Shot 04 - written / audio

[easierdonethansaid]

[The neat, precise script reveals little, except, perhaps, that the writer is applying more pressure to his pen than is actually necessary.]

It seems I've got a window that's broken. Damage from the storm.

[Which he has iignored for a few days in the wake of the draft.

He's fought wars enough, but that... was new. To say the least.]

Could someone direct me to some supplies to fix it up? I can do the labour myself, but an extra pair of hands or two wouldn't go amiss.

Col S. Moran

[Now, he switches to speaking into the journal.]

Sharpe. [Friendly enough, though perhaps with some personal strain in it. Man to man, not colonel to sergeant.] Care for some shootin'? Jus' good target practice.

[He needs to shoot something to silence his thoughts. He doesn't have the patience to hunt today, and picking off fellow villagers won't do him any favours.]

Comments

[easierdonethansaid]

[Moran, the gun loaded and ready, just raises his rifle, aims, and takes a shot.

It's a very satisfying thing to hear glass shatter.]

Chaotic.

Never seen anythin' like that before. Those things they want us t' fight? Have methods I wouldn' have believed if I hadn' felt 'em.

[greenjacketed]

Methods like what?

[ with the piece primed and loaded, sharpe takes his turn to lift his rifle to his shoulder. he breathes out and...crack. the baker coughed up a cloud of smoke.

in the short distance, another glass shattered. sharpe smiled. ]

[easierdonethansaid]

It was like a dream.

[He pulls the bolt, ejects the cartridge, and the next one slides into place within the gun before he hauls it up again and takes another shot.

The crack of the gun is almost as soothing as the breaking of porcelain.]

Back in India. Everythin' I could've wanted 'round, an' the brute behind it? Looked like a friend in it. Had to shoot him to get out.

[It's presented passively enough. Like he's just relating action of a war. Glossing over the difficulty that presented.]

[greenjacketed]

Fever dreams. [ sharpe spat. he's still warring with his ability to accept magic and the supernatural. ]

Though...slick piece you have there, Moran. [ no biting! no pouring! so quick to reload! ]

[easierdonethansaid]

[Let's talk about the rifle. Talking about the rifle is easier than talking about the strange things that draft caused.]

Bolt-action rifle. First manufactured on a large scale in 1824, first used in combat by the Prussians in 1841.

[He turns the bolt up and pulls it back, revealing the bullets ready to fire.]

Stores a magazine-- set of bullets-- in a compartment under it. Five rounds to a magazine, this one.

[He pushes the bolt forward, hears the next bullet click into place, then turns the bolt down to close the breech.]

Makes for good, quick firing. Add a scope to it, an' you got an even better shot of hittin' what you aim for.

[He doesn't use his scope to hunt, but in war? He made damn good use of it.]

[greenjacketed]

...Christ.

[ he can feel his blood turn green with envy. it isn't that sharpe doesn't love; depend upon; appreciate his baker. the rifle is an extension of his himself, these days. but he's not blind to progress when he sees its advantages. ]

A bit bloody better than three rounds a minute. [ the mark of an excellent rifleman, in his time. ]

[easierdonethansaid]

You ought to see the pistols.

My employer? Acquired [through a bullet of Moran's, but] an arms fact'ry. Owner died, the pr'fessor had a considerable bit invested in it, so, he took it over.

Self-repeatin' pistols. Magazine attaches to the gun, an' ten shots before y' have to do a thing to reload. Not even with a bolt.

[greenjacketed]

[ he's still casually reloading his baker. don't mind him. ]

Our lot'd pay a pretty penny for guns like that. The war'd be over damned fast.

[ was that a good thing or a bad thing? for a soldier's soldier like sharpe, it could mean the end of his identity... ]

[easierdonethansaid]

[Moran smiles, not seeming bothered by the reloading at all. Sharpe can appreciate progress, he can appreciate history. Not a sharpshooter alive-- especially in the Army, let alone the Rifle Brigade-- who doesn't know how much they owe to the Baker rifle and the men who used them.]

Unless the other side got 'em, too.

Then both sides just pull in more soldiers.

Wars still last.

[greenjacketed]

I suppose I should take that as a comfort.

[ it's the sort of notion one could only ever voice to a fellow soldier.

sharpe lifts again and trains his eye on a metallic glint. something thin and tinny, he supposes. he squeezes the trigger and hears the triumphant screech of wrenched metal. the crack of wood splintering somewhere beyond. ]

[easierdonethansaid]

[And it's a notion Moran understands too well.

In war itself, he is exceptional. "The best marksman in the British Army."

Out of war... Well. He had a few scandals. Too hot blooded to take to peace well, so when he didn't have a war to excite him, he found trouble.]

Is to every soldier.

[He takes another shot himself.

This? This is what he knows. Talking with a fellow Army man, shooting.

Only a matter of time, he knows, before he gets himself into trouble. A few days in battle isn't enough. Not for him.]

[greenjacketed]

When I think about life after the war, I...

[ he doesn't know, really. but he has a line that he likes to give out. a line that's mostly a lie: ] I wouldn't mind buying a little farm.

[easierdonethansaid]

Make sure it's a new one. Or one stugglin'. Gives y' somethin' to do.

Nothin' worse for a soldier after war than havin' nothin' to occupy himself.

[greenjacketed]

And I'm not looking to be the bedraggled drunkard on soft duty at the Chelmsford depot. Something to do, aye. That's what's needed.

Here, too.

[easierdonethansaid]

Jus' a matter of time here, I figure. [Shift the bolt, put it back, fire.] 'Til trouble starts creepin' up on me.

Happened in India after the war, an' I haven' found much t' do here to keep it away.

[greenjacketed]

[ a harsh laugh. ]

My RSM hates to see me bored out of my wits for the same reason, I reckon.

[easierdonethansaid]

Y' always could [he's teasing] start a nice little farm here. Plenty of land t' do it.

[greenjacketed]

And make no profit off the fruit and vegetables of my labour? God no.

[ but he laughed some more. ]

[easierdonethansaid]

No' a man for charity? Quite unbecomin', I'll have you know.

[But he's grinning.]

[greenjacketed]

Charity is one beast, Moran. Given away every last drop of your sweat for no pay and little comfort is...well, bloody hell. It's the army all over again but without the chance to shoot at anyone.

[easierdonethansaid]

You find somethin' to do to keep yourself busy, Sharpe? Wouldn' mind hearin' about it.

[greenjacketed]

And you. Moran. Have you any plans?

[easierdonethansaid]

None.

God, if I don' need to make some, though.

[greenjacketed]

...Practice shooting'll only take the pair of us so far. [ he snaps his rifle up into place and -- after only a moment to check his target -- another harsh cough of smoke fills the air. ]

[easierdonethansaid]

Well, least this place doesn' give a man much way to ruin himself. [He sounds almost disappointed.]

No money, so no room to gamble.

[No cause to steal, either. Nothing worth stealing. Otherwise he'd do it just to not be bored. That was how he got started with Moriarty. Not in need of money-- in need of something to do. Here, there are no rubies or emeralds or diamonds. No temptation.]

Plenty to drink, but never been one to care for too much too often.

[And sex? He hadn't seen the slightest opportunity.

...Well, he'd seen one...

But not one he was desperate enough to take yet.]

Quiet when there's no war, an' a man doesn' need to find a livin' to support himself here.

Bad, that. Don' think the lot in charge here thought that one through much. Man needs a livin' if he's good for anythin', somethin' so he isn' just sittin' 'round idle.

Not good for anyone, that. Military men, especially. No good comes from us lot not doin' anythin'.