Kransky lowered the binoculars with a frown and stared hard at the point he’d focussed on. Thinking carefully, he picked out a slightly closer point on the opposite wall and repeated the process. This time, the readout came up with the numbers — ‘52’ — in the same position directly below the aiming point.
“That’s the range!” He exclaimed, lowering the unit once more. “That’s not yards though… metres?”
“Very good,” Eileen nodded, obviously pleased. “Effective range up to twelve hundred metres, which should be more than sufficient for just about anything you need to do with the M107, and the batteries are good for about ten thousand range checks, although we’ll give you some spares all the same. I’ll teach you how to use the higher functions… at closer ranges it can even predict how much you need to adjust your aim at a given range to ensure a hit based on your weapon’s original zero. Think it might come in handy?””
“I’m sure it’ll come in real handy!” Kransky stated with certainty, impressed. “How the hell does it work?”
“Well,” Eileen began with a smile, “inside the unit is something known as a ‘laser’ — it’s what the scientific community in my time calls coherent light — light that travels in one direction, in parallel lines, rather than spreading out as it normally should. The word ‘laser’ is an acronym that stands for Light Amplification by Stimulated Emission of Radiation.”
“I’ll bet you say that to all the guys!” Kransky grinned sheepishly, his expression indicating that he had no problem with admitting the term had gone straight over his head.
“Only the cute ones,” Eileen smiled back, intending her reply be lightly humorous, but the subsequent silence that followed those words was anything but light.
“Are th-these lasers anything like the ‘Heat Ray’ in that War of the Worlds novel?” He asked with a slight hesitation, his embarrassment again making him desperate to change the subject all of a sudden.
“Got it in one…!” Eileen beamed, impressed by the man’s unexpected leap of logic. Truth be told, she was also a little relieved the subject matter was moving on. “That’s pretty damn sharp, although I guess I should expect that kind of lateral thinking from an ex-journalist!”
“Hey, that’s no fair,” Kransky protested lightly. “You know all about me, and I still know next to nothing about you.”
“Actually, it’s Max who knows about you, mostly,” Eileen admitted, sounding a little apologetic as the American placed the rangefinder back on the bench beside the MP2K. “He’s more of a nutter for historical bits and pieces than I am.”
“Oh, I’m ‘bits and pieces’ now… well that makes everything much better!”
“Oh for Christ’s sake, I can’t win, can I?” Eileen moaned theatrically, knowing Kransky was joking. “Hard as it must be for the ego of a man such as yourself to handle, the future of the world doesn’t actually revolve around you specifically.” That remark got her a chuckle. “While you apparently have some historical significance that Max is aware of, I honestly don’t know much more about you than what you’ve told me yourself…” she paused slightly “…not much more, anyway.”
“…except…?”
“Except that you’re honest and trustworthy to the core, an excellent guerrilla fighter and tactical planner, and are absolutely lethal with a rifle in your hands. Believe me, if I knew any more than that about you, I would remember it.”
“Ahh…” That sobered Kransky somewhat — he was a little dismayed by the idea that this woman, whom he was starting to like a great deal, knew the kind of ‘work’ that he actually did. He’d been deliberately circumspect regarding what he did while ‘in the field’ in his conversations with the commander, as the subject matter wasn’t something he considered appropriate for female ears. What he did wasn’t something he actually felt proud of in the cold hard light of day, regardless of how good he was at it, or whether he considered it a necessary evil. The reaction didn’t go unnoticed with Eileen, and it wasn’t particularly difficult to guess as to the reasons why. She gave him a kind and sympathetic smile.
“I don’t doubt what you do is unpleasant, Richard,” she began, her tone soft. “Nor do I think for a moment that you like what you do. Don’t think I think less of you for it either — don’t ever think that.” She stepped back apace, her senses telling her rather clearly that they’d hit on a subject that was very sensitive to him. She was also mindful that as a product of a far earlier age than hers, he was far less likely to deal readily with such issues as shame, embarrassment or emotions generally — issues still considered feminine things even in her supposedly more liberated times. Under the circumstances, instinct and intuition, female or otherwise, told her he needed a little ‘personal space’.
“They’re… they’re not things you talk about to anyone, really…” He said softly, hesitant but wanting to believe her. “Especially not to a lady…” He shrugged. “I guess women of your time are much more intelligent and learned than they are…” he corrected himself as an unusual thought occurred “…than they mostly get a chance to be in mine.” He shrugged faintly. “You have this incredible knowledge of weapons and technology that’d put most scientists of my time — most men — to shame. These pieces of equipment you have for me — the rifle, the sights, this laser gizmo — are as much an example of how far apart we are as those aircraft outside. It just seems so unlikely that people who came from what must be such a wonderful, advanced society as yours would have much to do with the kind of violence I’ve seen…” And Eileen could ‘hear’ that sentence finish with ‘…and committed…’ in his face and in the silence that followed.
The sentiment expressed in that statement made her feel more than a little sad for a number of reasons, and she turned slightly to rest her backside against the edge of the bench before them, her hands hanging by her sides as her shoulders sagged visibly. The serious turn of the conversation had started to affect her also, and over the weeks since their arrival there’d also been a build-up of feelings of loss and deprivation due to their displacement in the 1940s.
Similar feelings were being felt by many of the Hindsight members to varying degrees, although being men, none would’ve been as likely to admit it, and despite the company of their own fellow team members, it was beginning to produce underlying sensations of loneliness and solitude which went well beyond something as simple as culture shock.
In those moments following Kransky’s last sentence, she was also somewhat affected by his calling her a ‘lady’: possibly the first time in her life, having grown up in the late 20th Century and having spent her adult life in the military, that she’d ever actually been called a lady by anyone. The fact that it’d simply been an automatic assumption on his part somehow made it that much more significant, and his good-intentioned but misguided assumptions regarding the decency of the future they’d come from suddenly made her quite sad indeed.