By Gypsie-Ami Offenbacher-Ferris
It had gone all wrong! His Commander was going to have him court-martialed or worse, he’d have to face the firing squad at dawn.
The fledgling scientist, newly recruited into the Party, had assured them that he could and would double or triple the size of their army with his newest gadget, the Replicating Ray Gun. He had replicated hundreds of items so far, a car, a boat, a ladies high-end handbag, which had netted him thousands of rouble’s in sales. He had replicated a tank and even one of their most deadly weapons, the RS-28 Sarmat, which NATO dubbed “Satan 2,” all without a single glitch.
So why were there thousands and thousands upon thousands of rocks and boulders laying where there should be thousands upon thousands of Soviet soldiers?
He heard the jingle of handcuffs along with the heavy plod of his Commander’s footfalls and turned slowly to face his soon-to-be executioner.
Perhaps fate stepped in to save the innocents those soldiers were going to kill.
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