"I'm a little confused," he said slowly. "I thought that weapon of yours merely threw a solid missile. The way you described it, I thought it was just ... well, something like a long-range throwing sling."
He looked out the port again, then pointed.
"But that weapons carrier was shielded. I didn't think you could touch one of those with anything but another inductor."
Don leaned the rifle against the wall.
"That's the way they figured it, too," he remarked. "But they forgot something.
"You see, rifles have been obsolete for so long everybody's forgotten their capabilities. Everybody, that is, except a few crazy hobbyists. And no one ever thinks in terms of long-range missile throwers."
"So?"
"So, I've been watching these clay pigeon shoots of theirs for a long time. They've had a lot of them on broadcasts, you know. And I noticed they always operate the same way. Actually ... well, you saw them. They're not too careful." He smiled.
"Remember you remarked that I could have potted a few of them while they were getting into position? Only reason I didn't was that I didn't want to give them a warning." He shoved his hands in his pockets.
"You see, they know they're going to use that projector. The rigged speaker just makes it look good—as though the blast were necessary and unavoidable. That way, the public is convinced that the whole affair is a heroic battle against evil. See what I mean?