Chapter 52
"Hey, junior, you interested in a firearm that automatically reloads on firing?"
"...Like a revolver..."
The junior's response to Brown's words trailed off into silence.
'Different from a revolver, huh.'
He'd said a firearm that reloads automatically upon firing. A revolver rotated its cylinder and chambered the next round when the hammer was cocked.
"Not like that."
Brown pinpointed the distinction and continued.
"I'm talking about a system where the gun's action automatically chambers the next round when the bullet is fired. So, how might we implement that?"
At Brown's question, the junior pondered deeply.
"Could we use recoil to make it work?"
Brown nodded at the junior's answer.
"Exactly."
But utilizing recoil came with challenges. If the bolt recoiled at the moment of firing...
"Gas might not fully propel the bullet and could leak back, potentially injuring the shooter."
"Then how do we compensate for that..."
As Brown outlined the issues, the junior furrowed his brow in thought. Brown watched with a relaxed demeanor. With memories of his past life, he already knew the solutions.
Recoil operation was the way. After firing, the barrel and bolt recoiled together. Depending on when they separated, it divided into long recoil and short recoil methods. Long recoil had strong recoil, poor accuracy, and low durability, so it faded quickly. But short recoil...
'It was used in early machine guns.'
The Maxim gun, someone's chainsaw—plenty of examples. Once gas operation became dominant, short recoil vanished from most firearms except pistols. But right now, it was still viable.
As Brown mulled it over, the junior spoke up.
"If the bolt and barrel move together..."
"Oh."
'Is he a genius?'
Smith Warren. An ordinary man of this era. Sure, he had a higher education, but unlike Brown with his past-life knowledge, he lacked deep expertise in guns—only what he'd learned from the lab's developed or ongoing projects.
Yet he'd intuited the basic principle of recoil operation. Brown was impressed once more.
"Haha, Warren. You busy at all?"
"...Not busy!"
"Then let's chat more. So, about when the bolt and barrel separate..."
"Oh... oh ho..."
Brown explained recoil operation to his junior.
"...But it has strong recoil, low durability, and accuracy issues. Simple structure, but those flaws too..."
"Hmm... then... if the bolt separates from the barrel midway..."
"In that case, how would we..."
"..."
"Haha, well now."
Every time Brown explained, the junior grasped it perfectly, like dough sticking to a pan.
"So... we could use that to fire rounds in rapid succession."
"Yeah... that's right."
But the junior's follow-up halted Brown's thoughts. Automatic fire. A major leap for firearms. One problem needed solving first, though.
'Gotta fix the lead bullet fouling.'
Lead, the material for bullets, was cheap, soft, and didn't damage rifling. But each shot left traces in the barrel. Repeated firing packed lead between the rifling grooves, turning it into a smoothbore. Even single shots were a headache; full-auto would be disastrous.
The fix? Jacket the bullets in metal like copper.
'Wonder when that'll be ready.'
Brown had commissioned metal-jacketed bullet production alongside regular metal bullets. By now, the technicians were probably figuring out how to coat the projectiles.
'Eh, it'll happen eventually.'
Researching short recoil would lead to machine guns. Gas operation could yield even more advanced designs later. But Brown planned to focus on short recoil first. And...
"...We could make a rapid-fire gun right now, you know. Interested?"
"...Yes!"
He'd introduce a machine gun first. That was Brown's original intent.
A Gatling gun: crank the handle, barrels rotate, unleashing a hail of bullets. Simple to build now, and devastating against magic beasts.
"Oh... this is relatively straightforward. A gun that pours out bullets by cranking the handle..."
"Right?"
"Could I design it? I'll work hard!"
"Go for it."
"Thank you!"
The junior bowed deeply in gratitude and returned to his seat. Brown watched his back, looking forward to the man's growth.
"Tch, that face again."
McCallson grimaced at Brown's expression and muttered.
"What? What's wrong with my face."
"The one you make every time you dump work on me. I call it your ugly slacker grin."
"Bullshit."
"..."
Brown brushed off McCallson's slander and headed back to his desk. As he was about to resume work, another junior approached.
"Um... Mr. Brown? You have a visitor."
Megan Rockefeller. Researcher at the alchemy lab. Rank: research officer.
By chance, he'd taken on petroleum research. That's when his career went sideways, you could say. Stagnant progress. Shrinking funding and staff. Burns scarring his right arm from an accident. And the mockery from colleagues.
Still, he persisted. He felt success was just around the corner. But funds dwindled and eventually dried up.
As he was about to give up, help arrived: John Brown, weapons lab researcher. Rank: research assistant. But his work had propelled the empire forward.
One had to wonder why he wasn't promoted to officer yet.
Speculation pointed to insufficient seniority. Two years as assistant wasn't enough for officer rank.
Anyway, with Brown's aid, he continued. And finally...
"At last..."
Resuming with support, success came. Distillation separated petroleum into fractions. Three main ones.
But Rockefeller pushed on, refining further.
"Got it..."
Six substances from distillation, seven including initial gases.
"Congratulations. You've finally borne fruit."
His assisting researcher, Mary Klein. A research assistant herself, she offered her felicitations.
"Can't ignore your help. Thanks."
"No need. You did the heavy lifting, Officer."
Memories of the ordeal flashed by.
'Wasn't easy...'
But success at last. A shiver ran through him.
"Oh, right. I'll step out for a bit."
The first to tell sprang to mind. He'd reported the initial success in writing, but today he'd tell in person.
"Sure, I'll finish the report."
Leaving the alchemy lab, he headed straight to the weapons lab. And...
"Ah, long time no see, Mr. Rockefeller."
"We succeeded!"
"...! Come in first."
They moved to the weapons lab's reception room. There, he explained the results to Brown.
"Thanks to you, I finished. Appreciate it."
"No, no. Glad it worked out."
"Haha. And the petroleum yields seven substances total..."
Listening, Brown thought:
'Now for internal combustion engines...'
Cars, planes. Tanks, fighters. And more from petroleum derivatives.
But focus on engines first. Brown didn't know designs intimately, but grasped basics.
After Rockefeller left, Brown sketched on paper: basic engine structure and principles. Then he moved.
"..."
McCallson eyed him askance.
"Tch. Find someone else..."
"Hold on. Weren't you gonna ask a favor?"
McCallson stopped him as he turned.
"You look busy."
"...Not busy. What's up."
"Petroleum research succeeded."
"...Ah."
"Thought about machines using it as fuel."
"Hmm..."
McCallson questioned as Brown explained.
"Got the principle. What're you planning?"
"Ever thought about horseless carriages?"
"Hmm..."
McCallson perked up at Brown's words.