M-PATS and MANPADS, man-portable air-defense systems”
“Damn! I wish we'd had those…” The General trailed off, but Richard knew what he was thinking. If they’d had the weapons they had now, back when the Empire invaded, a lot of people would still be alive.
“They’ll pay the debt soon enough, General. By the way, what’s our failure rate?”
“So, so.” Marks answered, looking pensive. “Those we find that get ‘killed’ too many times in combat we recycle to the rear. An army needs fitters, armorers, cooks, and an assortment of REMF to keep everything moving in the right direction.”
Penn nodded, understanding the logic. There were always people in combat who just seemed to have no luck at all, and no matter how much they tried, they just didn’t have whatever it was to stay alive in combat. Call it luck, brains, or a death wish. Even so, their services could still be used in the rear as part of the HQ Company, and rear area supply, maintenance, and sundry support positions.
“How are we doing overall?”
“I’d say great. We are still receiving a steady stream of volunteers from around the planet, so our training staff is working around the clock. This new training program works well, as by the time they get to the end, so to speak we’ll have fully integrated, and battle trained Marines. With luck, I’ll have ten to fifteen thousand of them ready by the end of the year.”
“Which year?” Richard asked with a smile.
“Shit! I keep forgetting that we’re in a damned time bubble.” He laughed. “Damn! Won’t the Imperials be surprised when they come back.”
“They’ll probably wonder where we got a fully equipped army from.”
“That little wrinkle still takes some getting used to. Even if it takes the Empire five years to get back here, it won’t matter. By that time the Sol System will be one big trap. Their chances of getting boots on the ground again are slim to none, which makes me wonder why I’m building you an army in the first place?”
“Simple, we are going to go out there and kick some ass, General, and carve out a bit of the universe for ourselves.”
“Too right, we are.”
* * * * * *
Lieutenant Lewis looked at the fortified Thrakee position through his HUD with tired eyes. To him it felt like they’d been fighting forever and they still hadn’t pushed the damned lizards off planet.
“Fly-eye up, Lt.”
“Thanks, Ben.” Isaac Ben-Sharon smiled. Even after explaining to the Lt that ‘Ben’ in his name, as in many Jewish names means ‘son of’, he couldn’t get people out of the habit of calling him ‘Ben’. Not that Ben-Sharon minded, he was kind of getting used to the kid, as he listened and learned fast, unlike some others he’d tried to train.
“Now let’s see what we have.” Not much, as the first cloud of fly-eyes were flash burned out of the sky.
“Shit! Those effing mother-loving lizards are getting too smart for their own effing good.” Lewis snapped, turning his head to one side and spitting. “You’d think they couldn’t tell the difference between real bugs and our fly-eyes.” Thankfully the bug repellent spray they were issued with actually worked against real bugs that swarmed around them.
“So, what do we try next, Lt?” Ben-Sharon asked.
“We have any hawks left?”
“We do, two in fact.”
“Good, get them aloft and have them start from a long way off at high altitude. If we’re careful they won’t be able to tell the difference between them and the other hawks circling over them.”
“Unless they shoot them down for lunch.” Ben-Sharon laughed.
“There you go, raining all over my nice parade… again” Lewis sighed.
Ben-Sharon slapped him on the shoulder and slithered off through the wet underbrush to check on the rest of the squad. Lewis tracked him for a few moments but with the chameleon suit on active, he quickly vanished into the surrounding vegetation. If he couldn’t see him, it was doubtful
“Damn! I wish we'd had those…” The General trailed off, but Richard knew what he was thinking. If they’d had the weapons they had now, back when the Empire invaded, a lot of people would still be alive.
“They’ll pay the debt soon enough, General. By the way, what’s our failure rate?”
“So, so.” Marks answered, looking pensive. “Those we find that get ‘killed’ too many times in combat we recycle to the rear. An army needs fitters, armorers, cooks, and an assortment of REMF to keep everything moving in the right direction.”
Penn nodded, understanding the logic. There were always people in combat who just seemed to have no luck at all, and no matter how much they tried, they just didn’t have whatever it was to stay alive in combat. Call it luck, brains, or a death wish. Even so, their services could still be used in the rear as part of the HQ Company, and rear area supply, maintenance, and sundry support positions.
“How are we doing overall?”
“I’d say great. We are still receiving a steady stream of volunteers from around the planet, so our training staff is working around the clock. This new training program works well, as by the time they get to the end, so to speak we’ll have fully integrated, and battle trained Marines. With luck, I’ll have ten to fifteen thousand of them ready by the end of the year.”
“Which year?” Richard asked with a smile.
“Shit! I keep forgetting that we’re in a damned time bubble.” He laughed. “Damn! Won’t the Imperials be surprised when they come back.”
“They’ll probably wonder where we got a fully equipped army from.”
“That little wrinkle still takes some getting used to. Even if it takes the Empire five years to get back here, it won’t matter. By that time the Sol System will be one big trap. Their chances of getting boots on the ground again are slim to none, which makes me wonder why I’m building you an army in the first place?”
“Simple, we are going to go out there and kick some ass, General, and carve out a bit of the universe for ourselves.”
“Too right, we are.”
* * * * * *
Lieutenant Lewis looked at the fortified Thrakee position through his HUD with tired eyes. To him it felt like they’d been fighting forever and they still hadn’t pushed the damned lizards off planet.
“Fly-eye up, Lt.”
“Thanks, Ben.” Isaac Ben-Sharon smiled. Even after explaining to the Lt that ‘Ben’ in his name, as in many Jewish names means ‘son of’, he couldn’t get people out of the habit of calling him ‘Ben’. Not that Ben-Sharon minded, he was kind of getting used to the kid, as he listened and learned fast, unlike some others he’d tried to train.
“Now let’s see what we have.” Not much, as the first cloud of fly-eyes were flash burned out of the sky.
“Shit! Those effing mother-loving lizards are getting too smart for their own effing good.” Lewis snapped, turning his head to one side and spitting. “You’d think they couldn’t tell the difference between real bugs and our fly-eyes.” Thankfully the bug repellent spray they were issued with actually worked against real bugs that swarmed around them.
“So, what do we try next, Lt?” Ben-Sharon asked.
“We have any hawks left?”
“We do, two in fact.”
“Good, get them aloft and have them start from a long way off at high altitude. If we’re careful they won’t be able to tell the difference between them and the other hawks circling over them.”
“Unless they shoot them down for lunch.” Ben-Sharon laughed.
“There you go, raining all over my nice parade… again” Lewis sighed.
Ben-Sharon slapped him on the shoulder and slithered off through the wet underbrush to check on the rest of the squad. Lewis tracked him for a few moments but with the chameleon suit on active, he quickly vanished into the surrounding vegetation. If he couldn’t see him, it was doubtful
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