Empire of Man 01 - March Upcountry by David Weber, John Ringo Page A
Authors: David Weber, John Ringo
Tags: Science-Fiction
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if we have to, but all the trade goods in the ship won't keep us alive without supplements. The order of priority is fuel, supplements, food, the suits for Third Platoon, power, ammo, trade goods. Each person may bring ten kilos of personal gear. How many kilos of supplements do we have?"
"Only three hundred," Kosutic answered.
"Damn. I'd hoped for more. We'll have to eke it out with rations. We go on short rations from the moment we board the shuttles. And confiscate all the pogie bait. Most of it won't have much in the way of nutritional value, but it's something. No more than one ration per day, and we hope we have one a day all the way through."
"Understood," Kosutic said. "Out here." She raised her eyebrows at the lieutenants. "Does that clear the air, Sirs?"
"Yes, Sergeant Major, it does," Jasco said. "I still don't think we're going to run out, though."
"Sir, may I make an observation?" the sergeant major asked, and Lieutenant Jasco nodded.
"Of course, Sergeant Major." He was an Academy graduate, with a previous stint as a platoon leader and four years in the IMC under his belt, but the sergeant major had been beating around the Fleet long before he was born. He might be stubborn, but he wasn't stupid.
"In a situation this screwed up, Sir, planning for the worst is just good sense. For example, I would strongly suggest that you not put all the supplements on one bird. Or any other point failure source, such as spare ammo or power. Spread it across the shuttles. When the shit hits the fan, there's no such thing as being overparanoid."
She nodded and stepped lightly out of the shuttle bay, and Jasco stood shaking his head as he looked at the pad in his hand.
"Do you think she was looking at the load plan?" he asked Gulyas.
"I dunno. Why?"
"Because I had all the spare food, ammo, and power on Shuttle Four!" the logistics lieutenant said angrily, and shut the pad with a snap. "It would have carried the heavy weapons platoon in a standard drop, and since it was empty . . . What a cherry mistake! Damn, damn, damn it to hell! Time to start cross-loading."
* * *
"And that, Your Highness," Pahner said, gesturing towards the memo pad, "is why I don't consider it advisable for you to bring the three cartons of personal gear."
The wardroom was empty, except for the two of them, although Doctor O'Casey was expected soon.
"But what am I going to wear?" the aghast prince asked. He pulled at the chameleon fabric of the uniform he'd changed into. "You can't expect me to go through each day every day in this ? . . . Can you?"
"Your Highness," Pahner said calmly, "each of the military personnel will be carrying on his own back six spare pairs of socks, a spare uniform, personal hygiene equipment, five kilos of proteins and vitamin supplements, rations, additional ammunition and power packs for their weapons, additional ammunition for squad and company level weaponry, a bivy tent, his multitool, a rucksack fluid pouch with six kilos of water, and up to ten kilos of personal gear. The load will total out at between fifty and sixty kilos. In addition, the entire Company will be switching off carrying powered armor and additional trade goods, ammunition, and powerpacks."
He cocked his head and regarded his nominal commander steadily.
"If you order the Company, in addition to all these necessities, to carry your spare pajamas, morning clothes, evening clothes, and a dress uniform in case there's a parade, they will." The company commander smiled thinly. "But I find the idea extremely . . . ill advised."
The prince looked at the officer in shock and shook his head.
"But who's going to be carrying all that stuff for me ?"
Pahner's face became closed and set as he leaned back in the station chair.
"Your Highness, I've already made arrangements for the support material for Doctor O'Casey to be distributed and field gear to be issued for Doctor O'Casey and Valet Matsugae." The captain regarded the prince steadily. "Am
"Only three hundred," Kosutic answered.
"Damn. I'd hoped for more. We'll have to eke it out with rations. We go on short rations from the moment we board the shuttles. And confiscate all the pogie bait. Most of it won't have much in the way of nutritional value, but it's something. No more than one ration per day, and we hope we have one a day all the way through."
"Understood," Kosutic said. "Out here." She raised her eyebrows at the lieutenants. "Does that clear the air, Sirs?"
"Yes, Sergeant Major, it does," Jasco said. "I still don't think we're going to run out, though."
"Sir, may I make an observation?" the sergeant major asked, and Lieutenant Jasco nodded.
"Of course, Sergeant Major." He was an Academy graduate, with a previous stint as a platoon leader and four years in the IMC under his belt, but the sergeant major had been beating around the Fleet long before he was born. He might be stubborn, but he wasn't stupid.
"In a situation this screwed up, Sir, planning for the worst is just good sense. For example, I would strongly suggest that you not put all the supplements on one bird. Or any other point failure source, such as spare ammo or power. Spread it across the shuttles. When the shit hits the fan, there's no such thing as being overparanoid."
She nodded and stepped lightly out of the shuttle bay, and Jasco stood shaking his head as he looked at the pad in his hand.
"Do you think she was looking at the load plan?" he asked Gulyas.
"I dunno. Why?"
"Because I had all the spare food, ammo, and power on Shuttle Four!" the logistics lieutenant said angrily, and shut the pad with a snap. "It would have carried the heavy weapons platoon in a standard drop, and since it was empty . . . What a cherry mistake! Damn, damn, damn it to hell! Time to start cross-loading."
* * *
"And that, Your Highness," Pahner said, gesturing towards the memo pad, "is why I don't consider it advisable for you to bring the three cartons of personal gear."
The wardroom was empty, except for the two of them, although Doctor O'Casey was expected soon.
"But what am I going to wear?" the aghast prince asked. He pulled at the chameleon fabric of the uniform he'd changed into. "You can't expect me to go through each day every day in this ? . . . Can you?"
"Your Highness," Pahner said calmly, "each of the military personnel will be carrying on his own back six spare pairs of socks, a spare uniform, personal hygiene equipment, five kilos of proteins and vitamin supplements, rations, additional ammunition and power packs for their weapons, additional ammunition for squad and company level weaponry, a bivy tent, his multitool, a rucksack fluid pouch with six kilos of water, and up to ten kilos of personal gear. The load will total out at between fifty and sixty kilos. In addition, the entire Company will be switching off carrying powered armor and additional trade goods, ammunition, and powerpacks."
He cocked his head and regarded his nominal commander steadily.
"If you order the Company, in addition to all these necessities, to carry your spare pajamas, morning clothes, evening clothes, and a dress uniform in case there's a parade, they will." The company commander smiled thinly. "But I find the idea extremely . . . ill advised."
The prince looked at the officer in shock and shook his head.
"But who's going to be carrying all that stuff for me ?"
Pahner's face became closed and set as he leaned back in the station chair.
"Your Highness, I've already made arrangements for the support material for Doctor O'Casey to be distributed and field gear to be issued for Doctor O'Casey and Valet Matsugae." The captain regarded the prince steadily. "Am
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