“Molecularly it’s even stranger. Basically for the first run you set up a molecular lattice using nannites. After it’s formed the first time, it’s easier to work with. But on subsequent formings you have to convince it it’s ready to be worked.”
“Explains a lot,” Edward grinned. “I can look it up you know.”
“Go ahead then,” Angus replied with a broad smile through his beard. “One of the things the original researchers missed is that there’s a way to make it from other ores. Naturally occurring ones.”
“It’s still not useable in tourney,” Talbot said. “And it’s not the best material available for unlimited combats. So it’s cute, but that’s about it.”
“Not quite,” Angus replied, pointing at his mail. “Genie, disengage personal protection field. Now, Edmund, take a whack at me.”
“No way,” Edmund said, glancing around the forge. “I don’t have a finished blade.”
“Use my axe,” Angus argued. “Go ahead. It won’t hurt.”
“The axe will cut through the bloody armor, you idiot!”
“Nah, try it.”
“It looks like steel,” Talbot temporized, picking up the axe.
“You can make it look that way,” Peterka said. “Strike!”
“Shit,” Edmund said, drawing back the blade. “You asked for it.” He swung hard, aiming though the dwarf. Even in mail, even if the alloy held which, in all honesty it probably would, the impact was bound to at least crack a rib. At the very least, it would be painful as hell. But any damage he would do, the nannites would fix quickly enough.
The axe struck the mail and rebounded as if it had hit a wall of steel. He dropped it with a grimace at the harmonics.
“Bloody hell!”
Angus had been knocked backwards by the blow but he grinned nonetheless.
“When two pieces of the material in contact are subjected to lateral motion, basically when they experience friction, they form temporary carbon to carbon covalent bonds. I said it was designed as reactive armor. When you hit it, it turns into plate. Diamond plate.”
“Now that’s interesting,” Edmund said, poking at the now supple mail. One of the buggers about using plate was that it didn’t flex. A person wearing it was locked into the form of the armor, sometimes uncomfortably. “What about when you’re moving, bending arms, stuff like that?”
“The energy isn’t high enough to matter. It’s a tad less flexible than standard mail, but not much.”
“Interesting,” Talbot muttered. “How do you work it?”
“It’s a proprietary program,” Peterka said. “But since you’re such a good friend…” he added with a grin.
“You’re going to go off playing with this and not work on my thresher, aren’t you?” Myron said.
“Nah, I can do both. Bring me over the pieces you need repaired and the specs and I’ll do them for you.”
“Right, that’s settled,” Angus said. “Now let’s go get us a drink and celebrate my finding the first vein.”
“How much of this is there?” Myron asked.
“Not that much in the first vein, but there’s more,” the dwarf replied. “We’ll find the rest. It’s bloody deep, though. We’re at a depth that period pumps don’t handle well.”
“There’s period and there’s period,” Edmund said. “Buy me a drink, and what’s more important get me some of this stuff to play with, and I’ll fill you in on some aspects you might not have considered.”
“Deal.”
CHAPTER SEVEN
“Deal,” Daneh sighed, terminating the call.
The job was not her favorite; a person wanted an “original” Transfer into something very much like a manta ray. But it was for a worthy cause — the form was a deep-diver and the person wanted to do deep sea research “on site” — and there weren’t any serious problems like Herzer’s to work on.
Out of the corner of her eye she saw Azure lift up and shake himself, heading for Rachel’s room, which probably meant that she was back. Thinking about it, Daneh didn’t think she’d seen her daughter in a couple of days.
“Rachel?” Daneh called, and her voice was automatically transferred to the girl’s room.
“Yes, Mother?”
“Where have you been?”
There was a pause that caused Daneh to sit up and override whatever answer she was going to get. “Come in here for a moment, will you?”
“Yes, Mother,” Rachel replied with a sigh that was faithfully replicated by the transmission system.
As soon as the girl walked into the room, Daneh’s stomach sank. She’d already been feeling depressed about not having any projects to test her mettle. And now this.
“Rachel, I thought we had agreed no body sculpting?”
There wasn’t much, but to her expert eye it stood out like a lightbulb. Rachel’s eyebrows had been curved, her cheekbones sharpened and her nose slightly thinned. Furthermore, she had had her breasts reduced and her butt tucked even more than for Marguerite’s party.
“I didn’t agree, you agreed,” Rachel answered hotly.
“I’m your parent, it’s my decision,” Daneh replied coldly. “Where did you have it done?”
“I don’t have to tell you that,” the girl said, crossing her arms. “I… I don’t have to say.”
“You could have gotten it off the Net,” Daneh said, tilting her head to the side. “It’s the sort of generic junk you can find there,” she added with professional disdain. “But the Net has my specific prohibition against it. So how did you get it done?”
“I Don’t Have To Say,” Rachel repeated. “And it’s not generic junk!”
“Well, it’s very poorly constructed,” Daneh said, coldly. “Give me the benefit of my expertise here, daughter. The eyebrows are badly balanced, the cheekbones detract from the nose and the combination makes you look like a short-beaked bird. I mean, it’s not well done.”
“Well, you wouldn’t let me get a well-done job, Mother,” she spat, furiously. Then she slumped shaking her head. “But… you’re right. It does look awful, doesn’t it?”
“Not awful,” Daneh said, tightly. “But it’s neither fashionable, not that I like the current fashions, they’re very unhealthy, nor is it particularly good looking on you. Face it, dear, unless or until you get a complete body and face sculpt, and end up looking like your friend Marguerite and all the other kids who were stamped out of the exact same genetic modeling kit, there’s not much you can do to look like current fashions. You’re too…” Daneh paused, searching for the right words.
“Fat,” Rachel said.
“Not fat, womanly,” Daneh replied. “Nobody these days is fat. Fat is when you have flabby bits hanging…” She looked at her stomach and arms and shrugged. “You’ve seen pictures. You’re beautiful dear. You know very well that at times you would have been considered beyond beautiful,” she added with a sigh.
“Sure, Mom, but these days guys don’t think in terms of women who are built to survive minor famines.”
“You’re not exactly a Reubens model,” Daneh replied. “Do you want it undone? Or do you want to keep it until you can get a proper bod-sculpt? I know some people who do very good work.”
“When?” Rachel asked, surprised.
“When you turn eighteen,” Daneh replied. “In the meantime, you’re grounded indefinitely. If you can’t keep a promise like this one, I’m not sure what promises you will keep.”