Sifu strolls by...
Guns made by a company called TrackingPoint, which include a special computer and targeting system built into the gun itself, could make already-trained snipers and sharpshooters even better; the point of the gun is to make the first shot count.
have a seat, friends...
FROM novel TERRAN EXODUS
FROM story SECOND TIME AROUND --- A 'MYRADE ORBITAL' STORY
A cool breeze brought in a slight bit of relief from a mid-day
sun that threatened to boil him in his own sweat. Most people
would have been profoundly uncomfortable in his situation, but
mere physical distress did not concern him at this point. All
that mattered now was success.
Starting with a standard contract, negotiations had gone
quickly beyond that. His unknown employer insisted that any
target briefing must take place after insertion. Even when he
doubled his already substantial fee, they flatly refused to
yield on that point. Okay, it’s your money.
Someone had decided that a certain person was a liability to
their future plans. His function was to eliminate such
liabilities, with extreme prejudice. He had already proved with
previous successful missions that he was worth the almost
astronomical fees he charged.
This was his third and final trip to an ideal observation
point. From here he had carefully performed initial scouting
and decided on what items could be required. Efficient and
thorough, he left nothing to chance.
Four weeks before his insertion he had shipped a cargo
container to Myrade, now in secure retinaprint ID storage under
an assumed name. It turned out that his calculations and
previous experience were both very accurate. He did not need to
purchase either an infrared chameleon suit or photosensitive
camouflage netting.
Another item, which he had only recently purchased, also
enhanced his chances of success. A Maxwell target memory module
would assure him that after he sighted in to his target, no
guessing would be required. His target would stay locked in,
regardless of light or weather conditions.
He had been motionless under his camouflage for over three
hours. With slow, careful movements he pulled up a small
spotting scope and checked to see if it was time to act. No,
the man he was waiting for is still not present.
What other procedures did he need to review?
Through his mystery contact, he had been given access to a
secure working space and whatever materials he requested. After
his initial scouting task he ordered some chemicals and
processing equipment. In his few off-duty hours each day he
spent much time preparing chemical blends, careful measuring,
use of weights and balances. This formula is close to one he
had used before, though not for many years. Very soon he would
field test the results and see if his clandestine manufacturing
efforts were successful.
When he could no longer stand the cloying chemical smell,
he spent time in his quarters, filling pages with logic
symbols. It was an almost unbreakable code that helped ensure
that he covered all his options.
From his contact information, he knew that his target, named
Villari, would usually spend the entire day in his penthouse
suite. With a staff specifically hired to provide him with
tailored on the spot high fashion clothing and prepare choice
off-world cuisine, he could nibble on delicacies to his heart’s
content. While dining, he would give orders controlling his
share of a multi-world criminal empire.
Briefly he wondered what had happened to put Villari on
someone’s target list. Perhaps an internal power struggle among
members of the Marsicano family? Some law enforcement effort
using clandestine means to blunt their organized crime
infestation? There was talk in whispers that a major effort is
underway to eliminate any trace of Mafia activity, no matter
where it is.
It was idle speculation, since he really didn’t care what
reasons his employers had for hiring him. If you don’t know the
reasons why you were hired, you tend to live longer.
Now he focused his attention again on the immediate
environment. Again he deployed his spotting scope and checked
the target area. Ah, it is time for action! It was difficult to
miss such a resplendent figure. Yes, he had studied Villari
well. With his privately owned building, restrictive computer
controlled access and the security of double layered enhanced
duraplas, his target probably felt quite secure. It was
unfortunate for him that countermeasures were available.
In his hidden workshop he had assembled fifty cartridges. From
them, five of the highest quality and identical weight had been
selected. With slow, careful motions he inserted an already
loaded magazine into his booster rifle and settled back into a
relaxed prone position. A small smile was his only overt sign
of pleasure at having nullified Villari’s primary security
feature.
What he called a ‘booster rifle’ was a low recoil weapon
inspired by an obscure twentieth century Terran design.
Developed for zero gravity assault troops, it used a caseless
propellant to launch a forty millimeter projectile at one
hundred meters per second. An integral solid fuel booster
ignites after one tenth of a second, increasing projectile
velocity to six hundred meters per second.
Booster rifles proved to be very effective against lightly
armored vacsuits used in the Terran Exodus, but limitations
were soon evident. Most noticeable was a position signature, or
a cloud of smoke from the solid rocket ignition. Another
limitation was that any warhead on the projectile had of
necessity to be small and therefore of limited destructive
value. A brief attempt to market a pistol length version failed
spectacularly.
With better alternatives available to well equipped mercenaries
or professional quality planetary militia, this weapon soon
became one rarely seen, even among backwater colonies. It was
unknown what caused this man to select it as his weapon of
choice. His modifications had resulted in a tripling of final
velocity, increased warhead yield and almost no firing
signature. Would it be effective?
After placing his target memory module on active, he emptied
his mind of all other thoughts. He held crosshairs at an aiming
point fifteen centimeters below Villari’s chin, then made
slight movements to align his rifle to the Maxwell’s presets.
He observed his target making typical expansive arm movements,
jewelry flashing in the spotlights. What did they used to call
it in the old days -- 'bling' or something like that? He
laughed, nibbled at food, and continued to speak as
subordinates were either praised or condemned.
In a Zen-type state of contemplation, he waited patiently for
the moment to be right. So effective was his technique that it
was always a surprise to him when he actually fired his first
round. Long hours of practice and his now interactive target
memory module enabled him to smoothly fire four additional
rounds, all of which were on identical trajectories.
Round number one produced a spider web of cracks in that so
called ’bulletproof’ srtface. Number two made a ham sized hole.
Round three impacted Villari and blew him apart into several
greasy burning fragments. Rounds four and five created a
firestorm that rapidly expanded to engulf the entire penthouse.
Perhaps Villari should not have insisted that his cooks use a
flammable hydrocarbon gas as fuel when they prepared his meals.
So confident was our shooter in his skill and intensive
preparations that he saw none of these events happen. He had
begun moving away from his concealed position as soon as his
magazine was empty. While walking, he picked at his wrists,
soon pulling away what looked like a layer of skin. It started
to smoke, and he tossed it downwind just as it flashed into ash
and powder.
Reaching the door of an enclosed stairwell, he covered his
chameleon suit with a standard worker’s paper coverall. All he
had to do was blend in to a crowd and make his way out of the
kill zone.
Time-outs should be a thing! Change the batteries, reboot the system, there will probably come a time when you have to wait for updates to your rifle's OS to download. 
THAT truly scares the bee-jeez-sis out of me.
