The range officers moved first.
They treated the machine like artillery, not a rifle. Two men knelt at the mount, checking the legs, pressing them deeper into the packed earth. Another unscrewed the cap on the water jacket and poured from a metal canister until the level mark was reached. Steam curled briefly, then vanished.
A fourth man lifted the ammunition belt.
It was long. Too long.
Brass cartridges were linked together in a continuous chain, each round identical.
The belt fed across the tray and into the side of the gun, disappearing into the housing.
Napoleon I watched the preparation in silence.
"This is crew-served," Napoleon II said, standing beside him. "Not because it's complicated. Because it changes how men fight when they're alone."
He turned slightly, addressing the officers behind them.
"A single soldier fires until he reloads," he continued. "This fires until the belt ends."
The range officer raised his hand.
Downrange, new targets rose.
