“We’re … not sure why it does that,” Diamond admitted. “Or even how. The technology changes the bullet into a charged explosive.”
I felt a shiver, thinking about the tensors, the jackets—the technology used by the Reckoners. Actually, a lot of the technology we now used had come with the advent of the Epics. How much of it did we really understand?
We were relying on half-understood technology built from studying mystifying creatures who didn’t even know how they did what they did themselves. We were like deaf people trying to dance to a beat we couldn’t hear, long after the music actually stopped. Or … wait. I don’t know what that actually was supposed to mean.
Anyway, the lights given off by that gun’s explosion were very distinctive. Beautiful, even. There didn’t seem to be much debris, just some green smoke that still floated in the air. Almost as if the building had been transformed directly to energy.
Then it hit me. “Aurora borealis,” I said, pointing. “It looks like the pictures I’ve seen of it.”
“Destructive capability looks good,” Megan said. “That building was almost completely knocked down by one shot.”
Abraham nodded. “It might be what we need. However, Diamond, might I inquire about what you mentioned earlier? You said it didn’t work.”
“It works just fine,” the merchant said quickly. “But it requires an energy pack to fire. A powerful one.”
“How powerful?”
“Fifty-six KC,” Diamond said, then hesitated. “Per shot.”
Abraham whistled.
“Is that a lot?” Megan asked.
“Yeah,” I said, in awe. “Like, several thousand standard fuel cells’ worth.”
“Usually,” Diamond said, “you need to hook it up by cord to its own power unit. You can’t just plug this bad boy into a wall socket. The shots on this demo were fired using several six-inch cords running back to a dedicated generator.” He looked up at the weapon. “I bought it hoping I could trade a certain client for some of his high-energy fuel cells, then be able to actually sell the weapon in working condition.”
“Who knows about this weapon?” Abraham asked.
“Nobody,” Diamond said. “I bought it directly from the lab that created it, and the man who made this video was in my employ. It’s never been on the market. In fact, the researchers who developed it died a few months later—blew themselves up, poor fools. I guess that’s what you get when you routinely build devices that supercharge matter.”
“We’ll take it,” Abraham said.
“You will?” Diamond looked surprised, and then a smile crossed his face. “Well … what an excellent choice! I’m certain you’ll be happy. But again, to clarify, this will not fire unless you find your own energy source. A very powerful one, likely one you won’t be able to transport. Do you understand?”
“We will find one,” Abraham said. “How much?”
“Twelve,” Diamond said without missing a beat.
“You can’t sell it to anyone else,” Abraham said, “and you can’t make it work. You’ll be getting four. Thank you.” Abraham got out a small box. He tapped it, and handed it over.
“And we want one of those pen exploder things thrown in,” I said on a whim as I held my mobile up to the wall and downloaded the video of the gauss gun in action. I almost asked for one of the motorcycles, but figured that would really be pushing things.
“Very well,” Diamond said, holding up the box Abraham had given him. What was that, anyway? “Is Fortuity in here?” he asked.
“Alas,” Abraham said, “our encounter with him did not leave time for proper harvesting. But four others, including Absence.”
Harvesting? What did that mean? Absence was an Epic the Reckoners had killed last year.
Diamond grunted. I found myself very curious as to what was in that box.
“Also, here.” Abraham handed over a data chip.
Diamond smiled, taking it. “You know how to sweeten a deal, Abraham. Yes you do.”
“Nobody finds out that we have this,” Abraham said, nodding toward the gun. “Do not even tell another person that it exists.”
“Of course not,” Diamond said, sounding offended. He walked over to pull a standard rifle bag out from under his desk, then began to get the gauss gun down.
“What did we pay him with?” I asked Megan, speaking very softly.
“When Epics die, something happens to their bodies,” she replied.
“Mitochondrial mutation.” I nodded. “Yeah.”
“Well, when we kill an Epic, we harvest some of their mitochondria,” she said. “It’s needed by the scientists who build all this kind of stuff. Diamond can trade it to secret research labs.”
I whistled softly. “Wow.”