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Lieutenant Commander Foster Nolan was crazy. No sane person would be standing against the wall, arms out to his side, naked from the waist up except for a pair of goggles, waiting to be shot.
On the other side of the lab, Alex Knox was loading a clear glass BB into the chamber of an air gun.
“Is it too late to back out of this?” Nolan asked.
“Yes, it is,” Paige Grayson told him. “If you back out one of us would have to volunteer, which may be classified as child abuse. That means some crazy adult is going to have to take a bullet for the team.”
Dallas Stone said, “And just for the record, you are probably the craziest adult on the ship.”
“That’s good to know,” Nolan said grimly.
Dallas turned toward the bookish man who ran the laboratory and asked, “Mr. Rugman, I don’t suppose you’d be willing to test out this new projectile rather than the lieutenant commander?”
“I would be happy to pull the trigger, if it helps,” the man deadpanned. That was as close as Rugman would get to cracking a joke.
“So that’s a no?” Dallas confirmed.
“Not going to happen,” Rugman, said. “But pulling the trigger, as I mentioned, that’s still a go for me, if required.”
Knox said, “If anyone gets to pull the trigger, it’s going to be me. I’m the one who came up with the new projectile. It’s my design so I should have the honor of shooting the lieutenant commander.”
The air gun next to Knox was more of a long thin tube with a valve on the end. It held a single BB which Knox had plucked from a case of 10,000 glass BBs set on the floor next to the air gun.
Standing next to Nolan were Jason and Sarah. Each of them held a spray bottle.
“Is this going to leave a mark?” Nolan asked, somewhat reluctant to hear the answer.
Knox said, “Not exactly a mark. More like a dent.”
Jason whispered to Nolan, “More like a pit,” and he smiled devilishly.
Sarah playfully corrected Jason and said, “More like an inside-out zit.”
Nolan made a face and called over to Rugman.
“How long will the mark last?”
Rugman pretended to calculate a figure in his head before saying, “If Jason and Sarah neutralize the acid quickly then probably until forever. Consider it a tattoo courtesy of science.”
“Are you ready?” Knox asked the test dummy across the room, turning to flip on the air compressor.
“Wait, wait, wait,” Nolan yelled. “Which do you think would be better? Taking it in the front or in the back?”
Grayson yelled over the noise of the compressor, “If you want an inverted third nipple, I suggest you take the shot facing forward.”
“That doesn’t sound good,” Nolan called back.
The air compressor hit 92 psi before it automatically shut off. The small tank would retain that pressure until Knox released the valve on the back of the barrel. At that instant, the glass BB filled with one of the world’s most powerful acids, a carborane acid, would be shot at Lieutenant Commander Foster Nolan.
Alex Knox began the countdown. “In five, four, three, two—”
“Wait, wait, wait,” Nolan yelled again. He took the opportunity to turn his back to the weapon, and then he said, “OK, I guess I’m as ready as I’ll ever be.”
Alex Knox began the countdown again. “In five, four, three, two, one, FIRE!”
Like the sound of a spit wad through a straw, they heard a tiny pop and hiss from the narrow barrel. A tenth of a second later, the BB hit Nolan in the back, just underneath his right shoulder blade. The glass sphere burst open and made a tiny red mark. The kids held their breath in anticipation of what would happen.
Nolan winced from the initial sting but he maintained his stance, his back to the gun and his arms at his sides.
“Feel anything?” Grayson inquired.
Jason and Sarah closed in behind the pilot and raised their squirt bottles ready to neutralize the wound, if necessary.
Nolan’s arms remained at his sides.
“No, nothing really. I mean the pellet hurt a little. But other than that...” and then he twitched as if a wasp had stung him.
Nolan arched his shoulders back, trying to squeeze them together, as though attempting to scratch an itch he couldn’t reach. A moment later, he cried out, “It’s burning!” Nolan fell to the floor and began to rub his back on the ground. He looked like a bear using the bark of a tree as a back scratcher.
“Stop it. Roll over,” Sarah yelled at Nolan.
“Get it off,” Nolan cried out and turned onto his stomach.
Sarah and Jason began spraying down his back with the solution containing baking soda. Once the liquid had penetrated the small smoking hole in Nolan’s back, the concoction began neutralizing the acid.
Nolan continued to curse, moan, and writhe on the ground for a full two minutes. Finally, well into minute three, the pain began subsiding.
When the beleaguered pilot finally rolled over to sit up, tears were streaming down his face.
Knox looked at Rugman and gave him a thumbs-up.
“I would call that a success,” announced Knox to the room.