I Need A Weapon

Posted on 01 Aug 2026 @ 7:59pm by 1st Lieutenant S'earr

1,083 words; about a 5 minute read

Mission: S04 Episode 02 The Hackers Backdoor (Incidentals)
Location: Marine Deck / Quartermaster's Office

[ON]

The doors to the Marine Corps Quartermaster's Office slid open with their familiar hydraulic hiss as First Lieutenant S'earr stepped through. Conversation within the spacious compartment faltered almost immediately, not from fear, but from the simple reality that a Caitian of his immense stature was impossible to ignore.

Standing seven feet six inches tall and built with the powerful physique of a natural apex predator, S'earr filled the doorway before ducking his head slightly to pass beneath it. The white fur marked by bold black stripes contrasted sharply against the dark Marine duty uniform stretched across a frame considerably broader than any standard humanoid the quartermaster routinely equipped.

Behind a long operations counter, several enlisted Marines looked up from inventory padds while fabrication technicians paused in the middle of calibrating equipment destined for the ship's armoury. One young corporal blinked twice before quietly muttering something to a nearby sergeant, who answered with an amused shake of his head. News of the new Marine Commanding Officer had spread quickly throughout the Tomcat, but seeing him in person was something altogether different.

S'earr paid the attention no mind.

He had grown accustomed to it decades ago.

Approaching the counter, he offered a courteous inclination of his head to the senior non-commissioned officer standing behind it. "Hello." His deep voice carried effortlessly through the compartment without ever needing to rise. "I have a request regarding equipment fabrication."

The Master Gunnery Sergeant returned the greeting with crisp professionalism before consulting the padd in his hands.

"First Lieutenant S'earr, sir." A faint smile crossed the veteran Marine's face. "We've been expecting you."

He glanced briefly at the towering Caitian before adding with dry humour, "...and your measurements."

A low rumble escaped S'earr's chest that might have been the closest approximation to a chuckle. "I have been informed they are... atypical."

"A slight understatement, sir." The Master Gunnery Sergeant gestured toward a fabrication bay separated by transparent duranium partitions. "If you'll follow me."

The bay itself resembled something halfway between a medical examination room and an engineering laboratory. Precision holo-projectors surrounded a raised platform while articulated sensor arrays hung silently from ceiling-mounted tracks. Nearby industrial replicators stood ready to manufacture components to tolerances measured in fractions of a millimetre.

The Gunnery Sergeant stopped beside the platform.

"Starfleet uniforms we can usually tailor without much difficulty." His eyes wandered briefly over S'earr's powerful frame. "Marine combat gear..." He smiled knowingly."...takes a little more creativity."

S'earr stepped onto the platform as directed.

Immediately, blue sensor beams swept methodically over him from every angle. Tens of measurements appeared as floating holographic readouts around his body, shoulder width, limb proportions, paw dimensions, tail articulation, digitigrade stance, muscle density and skeletal structure. Every movement was catalogued with remarkable precision.

The technicians watched the display populate in growing fascination.

One of them gave a quiet whistle. "I've never seen shoulder measurements like that."

The Gunnery Sergeant raised an eyebrow as his stylus hovered over the padd. "Your requisition request comes with firearm requirements."

"My primary weapon will be a TR-116B precision rifle." S'earr spoke

Several technicians looked up from their workstations. The Master Gunnery Sergeant nodded. "A solid choice."

S'earr continued. "My secondary long arm will be a regenerative phaser rifle."

This time there was no surprise.

A Marine Commanding Officer capable of effective wielding of both platforms made perfect tactical sense. "And your sidearm?"

"A hand phaser." He opened one massive hand before the assembled technicians. "The dimensions of my hands prevent proper manipulation of standard Starfleet grips."

He curled his fingers around an imaginary weapon. "My palm overhangs the grip. The balance is poor. I compensate."

The Gunnery Sergeant gave a knowing nod. "But you shouldn't have to."

"Indeed."

The Gunnery Sergeant activated another fabrication console. Three holographic wireframes appeared simultaneously before S'earr. The familiar outline of a TR-116B. A regenerative phaser rifle. A Starfleet hand phaser.

Each slowly rotated in mid-air. "We'll start with baseline specifications."

The technician nearest the scanners gestured toward another platform surrounded by articulated holo-projectors.

"If you'll stand here, Lieutenant."

S'earr stepped into position.

Immediately, dozens of blue scanning beams swept across his body before narrowing their focus onto his upper torso and arms.

"Extend your right arm."

S'earr did so.

"Palm upward."

Another scan.

"Flex your fingers."

The computer generated a remarkably detailed skeletal model of his hand before overlaying musculature, tendons and claw extension arcs.

One of the engineers let out a low whistle. "Good grief..."

Another engineer zoomed in on the display. "Hand span is almost forty percent larger than Fleet standard." The Gunnery Sergeant wasn't surprised.

"Reinforced duranium-composite frame." He looked toward S'earr. "We'll increase grip circumference by twenty-two percent."

The Caitian examined the projection. "Slightly more."

The engineer made the adjustment. Another technician addressed the phaser rifle. "Length of pull needs increasing." The stock extended several centimetres.

"Again." S'earr spoke and it lengthened once more. S'earr shouldered the holographic weapon. His elbows settled naturally. His head aligned perfectly with the sight. "Acceptable."

The engineers moved to the TR-116B. Unlike the phaser rifle, the precision weapon demanded exact alignment with the user's stance. One technician frowned thoughtfully. "Your shoulder pocket sits almost eight centimetres higher than standard humanoid geometry."

"Correct."

"We'll redesign the buttstock." Another engineer added. "The trigger spacing also needs increasing."

"Optic height too." Suggestions flew around the room as quickly as they could be entered.

S'earr watched the process with quiet approval. These Marines understood their craft. Within minutes, the rifle no longer resembled a scaled-up weapon.

It looked purpose-built.

Elegant.

Balanced.

Entirely his.

The Master Gunnery Sergeant smiled. "I think we've got it."

The fabrication systems immediately came to life.

Industrial replicators began layering molecular composites while precision field emitters assembled internal components atom by atom. Status windows projected estimated completion times across the room.

"When they're complete, sir, we'll bring you back for live-fire calibration."

S'earr tilted his head slightly. "Calibration?"

"Every weapon leaves here unfinished." The Gunnery Sergeant smiled. "It isn't complete until it learns its Marine."

S'earr's ears lifted with quiet approval. "A philosophy I find difficult to fault." He looked toward the humming fabrication chambers where three custom-built weapons were beginning to take shape.

"The weapon doesn't make the warrior." A brief pause followed. "But a weapon built for its warrior can make all the difference."

[OFF]

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