Read Online Battle Station by B. V. Larson - Free Book Online Page B

specialized goggles built to fit over wide-set eyes. The helmet only protected their vision, not much else. It was equipped with a radio system however, so they could receive remote commands. The only other part of the system that mattered in combat was the projector itself, which they cradled in their stubby forearms. Connected by a thick, black nanite cable to the pack on their backs, the troopers were ready to go.
    Only, they weren’t. We tested them in person, and immediately found a critical problem. The individual Centaur soldiers weren’t strong enough to carry the newer, heavier packs and projectors. The systems weighed in around eight hundred pounds, and even their sturdiest rams had trouble walking with them. Smaller individuals buckled and staggered, toppling over.
    Frowning, I got out the com box and had Marvin translate my speech to the Centaurs in the staging area we’d set up inside their satellite. “Honorable people of the wind,” I began. It was always good to start things off by praising them. “We have a problem. Your warriors are not strong enough to carry the heavy weapons systems they need to destroy the machines.”
    “Our hearts are prideful and true. The rivers of our world may not lift a stone, but they will wear it down to nothing given enough years.”
    “That’s great,” I said, not having much of a clue what they were talking about. “But we need to kill Macros, and as-designed these systems will not work. Fortunately, I have a solution. It will require that we alter the people of your herds. They will have to undergo nanite injections to improve their strength.”
    The Centaurs made many oddly-worded inquiries as to the nature of these alterations and injections. As I explained them further, they became incensed.
    “Our people may subject themselves to allowing machines to squat upon our backs. We may even allow machines to transport us to our battles. But we will never conjoin with them! There is no greater dishonor imaginable! To become one with the machine is to join the enemy!”
    I grimaced. I thought about telling them that we’d done it, and that was how we were able to carry this equipment ourselves. I decided against mentioning these facts as I felt sharing that information might very well backfire. Who knew how they might react? They might rethink our entire tenuous alliance.
    “Sir,” Miklos said, standing nearby.
    I turned to him irritably.
    “I might have a solution. They say they are willing to be harnessed to carry the weapons. Perhaps we can build even larger projectors and have them drag the units on carts.”
    I considered the idea, but I didn’t really like it. They wouldn’t be able to move as fast that way. One of the big advantages of these Centaur troops was their natural agility on mountainous terrain. If they were dragging a cart behind them in teams, bumping along over the rocks, we’d be greatly slowed down.
    “I’ve got another idea,” I said. “We’ll put a repeller dish on every pack, countering that single crushing weight.”
    Miklos nodded. “That should work.”
    “It will work,” I said, “but it will cost us production materials and time. We’ll end up being able to field less troops per hour. But it can’t be helped, I suppose.”
    I relayed the plans to the Centaurs and after a few suspicious questions, they agreed with the plan. After all, it only involved altering the kit slightly, not the soldiers themselves.
    My next difficulty turned out to be more serious. The Centaurs were claustrophobic. This was something I’d known from the start, but I’d hoped that if they were willing to close their eyes and take a five minute drop-ship ride down to the planetary surface, we shouldn’t have much trouble. I was quite wrong on that point.
    Experimentally, we loaded up a squad of veterans into one of my deployable drop-ship containers. These were not all that different in design from their original configuration. Back on Earth,