their honor I would question—it is their aim that worries me. With a hundred goats behind me—I fear they would burn my butt off.”
I laughed. “In that case, it is your mission as First Sergeant to train your troops well.”
“Excuse me, Colonel,” Captain Miklos said. “How many of these Centaur troops do we have?”
I turned to Marvin, who had been in communication with them on my behalf. “How many volunteers are they reporting, Marvin?”
“About thirteen million, sir,” he said.
I snorted. “Sounds like that will do it. Our shortage will be in terms of transportation, armaments and supplies.”
“The Centaurs wish to ensure us that once they reach their world,” Marvin said. “Their troops can subsist on wind, rain, sunshine and grass for an extended period.”
“Hmm,” I said. “I suppose they could. They probably won’t even require us to dig latrines, will they?”
A general chuckle swept the group.
“Weapons then,” I said. “Are we churning them out?”
“Yes Colonel,” Marvin said. “The Centaurs had two factories in each satellite. Hundreds of packs and projectors are being constructed every hour. They are cannibalizing parts of their habitats for the purpose. Our factories are working on the latest upgraded suit designs.”
I nodded and stood up. “Meeting is adjourned. Marvin, accompany me to the bridge. The rest of you return to your stations.”
I’d made a significant alteration to our battle suit design after my experiences with the Crustaceans and the Nano ship. I didn’t like the limited field of fire that having twin arm-mounted projectors had given me. In close combat situations, a marine could be rendered helpless by the bulk of his own suit. I felt a free-swinging laser rifle was superior, attached only by a cable to the suit’s generator. You could aim it anywhere and more importantly with a single large projector I could jack-up the wattage the system could output. I had a feeling that before we were done in this system each man was going to have to blaze his way through quite a bit of Macro hardware, and one big projector was better than two smaller ones for that purpose. We had so few marines, only about three hundred in the system, that this alteration didn’t strain our overall production.
“What is the immediate plan, Colonel?” Miklos asked.
“Our sole factory is the one aboard my ship,” I said. “I’m going to stop the production of mines. After our battle suits have been upgraded, we’re going to use our one factory to modify our ships. We need to make them more comfortable for the transportation of—what was it, thirteen million Centaurs?”
The meeting broke up and my staff shuffled out. They were accustomed to vague orders and incredible plans. I was proud of them. No one shouted with laughter at my insanity. No one questioned that we could do such a thing. At the height of U. S. deployment of troops in World War Two, they’d had about thirteen million men in uniform. Why couldn’t Star Force field that many mountain goats?
In truth, I had no intention of using all thirteen million Centaur volunteers. The reality was without weapons systems they would be worse than useless against the Macros. The real challenge would be to maximize the number of trained, armed troops I could assemble and transport to the battlefield in a timely basis. And time was against us in this regard. I felt sure that once our campaign started, Macro Command on the target worlds would start digging in. They would realize as soon as we struck that we were coming for every planet eventually. Since they could out produce us, they would be very hard to take out without drastic measures.
When everyone else was gone, Marvin and I took stock of our operational situation. I didn’t like what I saw. On every target world, there were three main factories under domes—at least, that’s what we could see. There might be more domes hidden in the seas or underground.
I
I laughed. “In that case, it is your mission as First Sergeant to train your troops well.”
“Excuse me, Colonel,” Captain Miklos said. “How many of these Centaur troops do we have?”
I turned to Marvin, who had been in communication with them on my behalf. “How many volunteers are they reporting, Marvin?”
“About thirteen million, sir,” he said.
I snorted. “Sounds like that will do it. Our shortage will be in terms of transportation, armaments and supplies.”
“The Centaurs wish to ensure us that once they reach their world,” Marvin said. “Their troops can subsist on wind, rain, sunshine and grass for an extended period.”
“Hmm,” I said. “I suppose they could. They probably won’t even require us to dig latrines, will they?”
A general chuckle swept the group.
“Weapons then,” I said. “Are we churning them out?”
“Yes Colonel,” Marvin said. “The Centaurs had two factories in each satellite. Hundreds of packs and projectors are being constructed every hour. They are cannibalizing parts of their habitats for the purpose. Our factories are working on the latest upgraded suit designs.”
I nodded and stood up. “Meeting is adjourned. Marvin, accompany me to the bridge. The rest of you return to your stations.”
I’d made a significant alteration to our battle suit design after my experiences with the Crustaceans and the Nano ship. I didn’t like the limited field of fire that having twin arm-mounted projectors had given me. In close combat situations, a marine could be rendered helpless by the bulk of his own suit. I felt a free-swinging laser rifle was superior, attached only by a cable to the suit’s generator. You could aim it anywhere and more importantly with a single large projector I could jack-up the wattage the system could output. I had a feeling that before we were done in this system each man was going to have to blaze his way through quite a bit of Macro hardware, and one big projector was better than two smaller ones for that purpose. We had so few marines, only about three hundred in the system, that this alteration didn’t strain our overall production.
“What is the immediate plan, Colonel?” Miklos asked.
“Our sole factory is the one aboard my ship,” I said. “I’m going to stop the production of mines. After our battle suits have been upgraded, we’re going to use our one factory to modify our ships. We need to make them more comfortable for the transportation of—what was it, thirteen million Centaurs?”
The meeting broke up and my staff shuffled out. They were accustomed to vague orders and incredible plans. I was proud of them. No one shouted with laughter at my insanity. No one questioned that we could do such a thing. At the height of U. S. deployment of troops in World War Two, they’d had about thirteen million men in uniform. Why couldn’t Star Force field that many mountain goats?
In truth, I had no intention of using all thirteen million Centaur volunteers. The reality was without weapons systems they would be worse than useless against the Macros. The real challenge would be to maximize the number of trained, armed troops I could assemble and transport to the battlefield in a timely basis. And time was against us in this regard. I felt sure that once our campaign started, Macro Command on the target worlds would start digging in. They would realize as soon as we struck that we were coming for every planet eventually. Since they could out produce us, they would be very hard to take out without drastic measures.
When everyone else was gone, Marvin and I took stock of our operational situation. I didn’t like what I saw. On every target world, there were three main factories under domes—at least, that’s what we could see. There might be more domes hidden in the seas or underground.
I
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