Marksman's Rifle
Although the Balboan Armed Forces have two heavier sniper rifles, the .34-caliber LRSS and the .41-caliber VLRSS, both of which fire more conventional, brass cased, ammunition, both Zion and the Legion felt that there was a place in the rifle platoon or squad for a more than normally accurate battle rifle capable of firing the same ammunition as the F-26 and M-26. This rifle, called the F-26FT (francs tireurs) is almost exactly the same as the F-26, differing only in having a longer and heavier barrel and a better and longer ranged (and much more expensive) sight and range finder combo. This rifle weighs 5.4 Kg and has an effective range of 1300 meters. Match grade ammunition is available and issued.
Developmental History:
Although it is sometimes jokingly said that the F-26 began over drinks at the Zion Embassy in Ciudad Balboa, the better truth is that it is the result of several developments, none of them major in themselves, coming to fruition in different parts of the world at about the same time. For example, the semi-cased ammunition is a clear development of two varieties of caseless ammunition, one conventionally primed and one electronically primed, developed independently in Sachsen and Ostmark. The rammer which is so critical to the very high rate of fire and effectiveness of the burst feature is similar to, albeit simpler and sturdier than, that developed for the Volgan Abakanov. The snail drum magazine clearly owes its parentage to the sturdier but much more expensive double snail drum magazine developed for the FSC's Wakefield rifle. The miniaturized computer which controls the rate of fire was a development of Nihon Teppu Jutsu, Inc, of Yamato.
However informally the project may been initiated, very quickly a consortium between ZMI and BAC had been formed to begin development.
The 6.5mm projectile was an early, and happy, compromise between Balboa, which wanted something more in the 6mm range to suit its jungle conditions, and Zion which wanted something closer to 6.8mm in caliber but of great cross sectional density to suit its more commonly found desert and urban environments. Testing and simulation showed that the 6.5 was possibly ideal for neither but certainly more than adequate for both.
Thus, the caliber of 6.5mm was agreed upon.
Development thereafter becomes a very murky and perhaps even sordid subject, with charges of industrial espionage, pirating of personnel, and illegal reverse engineering being raised frequently. Certainly it is true that some design engineers from Volga and chemists from Ostmark and the Federated States of Columbia did emigrate to Balboa and Zion in the few years before the rifle was finally prototyped. It is also true that the magazine bears a suspicious, but apparently superficial, similarity to the double snail drum in use by the FSC (some copies of which, apparently, found their way to Zion).
International Sales:
Although acknowledged to be a superior battle implement, the F-26 and its cousins do only marginally well in international sales. This is for two reasons. The first is that the rifle is extremely expensive, at least twice the price of its next nearest competitor. The other is that both the Legion del Cid and Zion absolutely refuse to sell the rifle to Salafi and certain other states at any price, though the Legion does issue it to its Islamic mercenary battalions, the Pashtun Scouts.
PART III
Chapter Nineteen
La vengeance est un plat qui se mange froid.
—Pierre Ambroise Francois Choderlos de La Clos
12/6/469 AC, Camp San Lorenzo, Jalala, Pashtia
Fernandez shook his head ruefully and placed the report from Mahamda, his chief of interrogators, down on his disk. The intelligence coming from the von Mises had dropped alarmingly. Mahamda's report was clear on why, too. He picked the report up again and reread the key paragraph.
"The Pashtun are simply too tough," Mahamda had written. "They're not like the soft city boys from Sumer and Yithrab we were used to dealing with. Oh, yes, we can break them; but it takes three times longer. That's no different, in practice, from cutting my interrogation staff by a factor of three. And when they do break, the intelligence we gain is almost always old, too old to be useful tactically, though it usually retains its strategic value. Only when we have family members to threaten do they turn quickly. Nor will simply giving me more men do much better. This is delicate work, work that requires great talent and much training. Simply inflicting duress is rarely enough."
"And I don't have a solution to that," Fernandez muttered. "Patricio is still too delicate about threatening innocents; though he has made great strides. I wonder if we spoiled ourselves a little by going for the easy route and not developing enough tactical intelligence capability. Something to think on, anyway."
North of Jalala, Pashtia, 12/7/469
Alena sat up abruptly. She'd had another of her visions, this time in a dream. It hadn't been a particularly good one, nothing like when she had seen her husband presenting the calf's carcass to her on the playing field, nothing like the vision of their first night together (though the reality of that had far surpassed the dream). In fact, it had been downright horrible, all smoke and fire and screams and struggling, dying men.
She glanced at the horses, hobbled and guarded, a hundred meters away. No . . . it wasn't them.
Alena's eyes looked overhead. No, no aircraft.
Alena herself wasn't sure whether her visions came from somewhere else or if they were just the result of having a mind that could take and match a great many disparate bits of information and come up with probabilities from that, probabilities that that same mind imagined into visions. It didn't really matter which it was, she supposed, since the visions turned out to be right, more often than not. Best of all, unlike most men, her husband—she looked down warmly at the sleeping form beside her—listened. How could she not love a man who listened?
This vision was different from most. She sensed that the action she had seen was not to be immediate, nor close by.
What could have caused it? she wondered.
Her conscious mind was at least as good as her subconscious. She began to tally what she knew.
Point: the war is going fairly well, with new information coming in every day and deserters from the Ikhwan giving themselves up regularly. This will make the other side desperate. Point: I have seen my husband's higher commander. He is a tired man, breaking down and unwilling to admit it to anyone. He is desperate, too. Point: the action has mostly moved to the border, but is stuck there because we can't cross to where the enemy shelters. Point: support for this war among those who fund it is waning. They, too, are desperate for it to end.
She, too, shook her head. No, those are not the keys. It was something else, but what?
"David," she said, nudging the sleeping form beside her. "Husband, awaken. I have a prediction. Let me see the map."
With a grunt David sat up next to her. He'd learned, over the past two years, one hundred and fifty or more firefights, several awards and decorations, and a promotion, that when Alena wanted to see the map he'd be well advised to deliver. He reached into the saddle bags beside his sleeping roll and took the map and a blue-filtered flashlight out, unfolding the map in front of her and focusing the light for her to see by.