New Dawn

This was the future she helped create. This was the future that Sophie Williams had helped usher in. A new age of weapons and warfare. Something in her stomach flipped at that. Made her think of her time back on the front lines of Camber, hands-deep in the guts of various vehicles and armour. Trying her damndest to get them to work again.

Medics saved lives directly. Technicians tried their best to make sure their work in the field could save a few more. Now, the war was over. She was old, old enough that she could put her knowledge to use in other ways.

Thumbing the badge hanging around her neck, she picked it up and looked into the face in the picture on it. Golden hair, vibrant eyes, she wagered she looked a lot different now. The words ‘Chief Engineer’ were printed in red, above name, age, and all the other necessities of working in Hannibal Weapons Systems. Including, quite morbidly, blood type and next of kin.

She took a deep breath from behind the curtain. A looming shadow behind her almost made her look back, but there was no time for that, now. On the other side of the curtains, the buyers waited, the cameras rolled, and her bosses were no doubt watching.

Putting on her best smile, Chief Engineer Williams stepped out from the red curtain, and approached the stage. A spotlight shone on her, and she walked up the three steps to stand behind the metal podium.

Men and women, decorated with medals and campaign badges, waited for her. The chatter hushed down, and the wait staff stopped handing out the champagne as the lights and displays around the perimeter of the wall dimmed. Logos and previous Hannibal products disappeared from the screens, replaced with a dim grey glow.

Sophie looked up at the assembled crowd, and smiled as she put the headset microphone on.

“Welcome, everyone!” she said with as much sincerity as she could muster. “We are so glad to have you here at our unveiling. I’m sure all of you want to know just what exactly you’ve sunk so much of the UNSC’s budget into,” she paused for a second. Good-natured laughter, devoid of mirth, filled the room. A formality, really.

“Well,” she continued, “I’m happy to be the one to announce the results!”

The curtains opened, and the cameras stepped forward, clamouring for the best shot and angle as the automatic systems in the new tank switched to automatic, rolled it forward ten feet into the room proper, and left it rumbling there, lights on, weapons thrumming a vibrant blue.

“Hannibal Weapons Systems is proud to present the latest model in ergonomic defense solutions: the XM82 Main Battle Tank.” Sophie motioned at it while the cameras and drones snapped and whirred. The chatter increased in volume, at least until she spoke up once more.

“Our goal at Hannibal Weapons is not only to create better defense solutions for our brave servicemen and women, but to better secure mankind's future on the battlefield.”

Sophie would prefer if that future was fully automated, but the program she had written to automatically roll the tank forward was about as close to that as she would ever get.

“Through the implementation of ever-increasingly accessible technologies, safety protocols, and efficiency benchmarks, we have combined a modular, adaptable design with firepower and force multiplying capabilities, to produce a truly unrivalled anti-armour and direct assault platform.”

She scoffed to herself. Under no circumstances could a Tank be considered safe. Particularly not the death machine sitting next to her. A true marvel of engineering. Of her engineering.

A man stood up. Aged, wearing a black uniform. “Excuse me, Mrs...?”

“Ms Sophie Williams,” she stressed.

“Mrs Williams.” The man repeated, taking off his spectacles. Sophie gripped the podium tighter. The force of her grip stung her fingers. Her skin bristled just from looking at him.

“How is this tank any different from the ones we currently field?” He gesticulated with his spectacles towards the tank. “We gave Hannibal very specific project outlines, how does this compare to something like a Wraith, say?”

“The main drawbacks of the Wraith fielded by the Covenant was its limited capability as a multi-role armour platform.” Sophie said. This was all rehearsed, of course. A show put on by the cameras. People had to see that the UNSC were reluctantly adopting this new tank. She had to sell it, not to them, but to the people watching.

The UNSC had already accepted this Tank. They had already seen it. They were impressed by it, but, that’s where the theatrics began.

“The Covenant had many specialised vehicles, each with their own roles and unique advantages, and disadvantages outside of those situations.” Lies. Their technology more than made up for those disadvantages.

“The Wraith excelled at close to medium ranges due to the speed of its projectile, but fell flat at longer ranges unless they were used to bombard stationary targets.” Sophie took a breath, steeled her heartbeat, and continued.

“The main reason why the Wraith saw such effectiveness against the UNSC’s scorpion was purely because of the Scorpion’s low speed. This problem is addressed in the XM82. It is faster, highly resistant to plasma fire, and with its directed energy main armament, and the mounted gauss cannon repeater, this platform’s range is virtually unlimited.”

“How does it perform in combat?” Someone else asked, while the first man sat back down.

Sophie turned to him and smiled. “An official field test has not yet been carried out.” More lies. Seven had been constructed, and only one was currently on the planet. “However, lab results show it is highly effective, even against Covenant and non-Covenant armour.”

“What about cost?” He continued to press. “Is this viable as a long-term replacement for our current models?”

No. “This variant of the Scorpion does come with cost-associated drawbacks.” A whole lot of them, too. “The main armament alone is almost half the total cost. But, I can assure you, new manufacturing techniques allow us to forge armour plating with twice the heat threshold, and ten times the durability.” That, and it was packed with heat-resistant layers beneath, as though they would act as any sort of substitute for having being halved in weight.

“And,” she winked. “Remember, with a directed energy weapon, ammunition is almost a non-issue.”

“Well, Mrs Williams—”

“Ms.” Sophie broke character for a split second. It was enough for the whole room to stop.

The man who had spoke blinked, and breathed in enough to make Sophie uncomfortable, “Ms Williams, I think we’ve seen enough. Congratulations.”

The men and women of the UNSC Command smiled at her, and stood up, applauding. The cameras started up again, and Sophie was forced to endure almost three minutes of applause and snapshots of her strained face.

No doubt she would pay for her outburst.

“Do feel free to stay,” she said to them, once the applause died down and the chairs were cleared away for the party to resume. “We have an open bar, refreshments, and the full specifications will be sent to your datapads.”

The displays switched to more showcases of their new product. Blueprints with the same information she had recounted, almost word for word at points, glorified and professional photographs, renders, and artist’s impressions of the tank in battle.

More than anything, Sophie wanted to slink back to her office, but before she could, she stepped over to the tank and ran a hand along the front left tread. It brought back memories. “Poor thing,” she whispered to it. “What bhave the nasty Jarheads done to you…”

“I believe congratulations are in order.” The voice made Sophie start, holding onto the lanyard around her chest. The man was young, had a camera around his neck, and smiled at her. “I heard you worked on the project?”

“Well, lead engineer, at least.” Sophie held up her lanyard. He leaned forward to look at it, and hummed. She kept her face covered, didn’t need anyone to notice she hadn’t bothered to update her current photograph.

“The further you go up the ladder, the less time you spend getting your hands dirty,” Sophie joked. She did miss it. She missed the visceral feeling of oil and grease on her hands. Then again, she was pushing sixty.

“Indeed,” the journalist, for what else could he be, said. Sophie paused. She had never heard a Journalist say ‘indeed’ before. “I am excited about the new possibilities such a formidable weapons system affords us.”

Sophie guarded her response, considered it, before settling on something neutral. The man’s appearance, and manner of speaking, was a bit too spooky for her tastes.“Yes, it will be an exciting time for us all here at Hannibal, as well.”

Sophie turned towards the polished metal of the armour plating, catching a reflection of herself. The man put a hand on her shoulder. The grip would’ve made her wince in pain, if she had the ability to care about what the UNSC thought anymore.

The future, it seemed, would be just more of the same, in a different delivery method. That method, be it directed energy, or 150mm shells, would have someone’s name on it. Right now, it was hers.

Smiling a strained smile, she turned around to mingle with the party guests. After all, this was the future she helped create.