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The answer was stealth. Using a combination of human and Himmit stealth technologies a new generation of combat shuttles was being created that would be slightly less heavily armed and armored, but even faster and more maneuverable. Best of all it would be extremely stealthy.
The shuttles had a negative radar cross-section to human systems and only showed up as ephemeral ghosts on Galactic detectors; projectors even smoothed turbulence zones at subsonic speeds. The first prototypes had been fielded on Barwhon, where the humans were engaged in a desperate struggle in the swamps. While they continued to take losses, the rate was much more acceptable.
But until Terran Fleet Strike units received them, the battalions used a mixture of modern and futuristic equipment, such as the converted Humvee with a Galactic communications and battle pla
Colonel Hanson high-fived his Bravo Company commander with a resounding metallic clang! «Airborne, Captain! They're trying to find a fault to discuss!»
«Well, I think I should have salvoed the third fire mission just a little earlier,» said Mike soberly. «The wave that made it through the fire on that one caused about three percent higher casualties than it should have. I have got to find somebody to delegate fire control to.»
«Well, I'll just have to send you to bed without supper!» laughed the ecstatic battalion commander. All his other companies were performing well within expectations, but O'Neal's performance had definitely been the cherry on the sundae. He had exceeded every pretest estimate of the highest possible marks. «I don't think they're go
«I didn't think you could max an FSTEP, sir,» Mike said.
«I think you might have set a new standard. But that wasn't what I called you back for.» The battalion commander proffered a hardcopy of e-mailed orders. «Nightingale is going to have to deal with the ORS and IG on her own; you've been ordered to CONARC on temporary duty. Your master's voice, I guess.»
Mike glanced at the bald prose of the orders. It had Jack Horner's touch all over it.
«Yes, sir, it sure looks that way. Well, the company's as squared away as it's go
«There's an evening flight out of Harrisburg direct to D.C.; you're on it.»
«Yes, sir. By your leave?» he asked, saluting.
«Get outta here, Captain,» chuckled the colonel, returning the salute.
* * *
The flight into D.C. turned out to be a co
After the flight reached cruising altitude, the flight attendants came around with drinks. When the flight attendant passed him the requested Coke, she did a double take, but continued on, apparently dismissing the idea that Michael O'Neal would be on her plane. Afterwards, however, as the plane was just begi
«Excuse, me, sir. I was wondering something . . .» she said, diffidently.
«And that was?» Mike had cycled into a foul mood. Although the company was in good shape for an ORS and IG he wanted to be there to smooth out any wrinkles that might come up. He wanted the company to do as well on the inspections as they did in their readiness test. Although he respected Nightingale's organizational abilities, he was worried about how she would manage the «problem children» in the company, even with Gu
It was the very reason his tunic, against regulation, was totally unadorned with ribbons. He was wearing a Combat Infantryman's Badge, with one star, indicating that he had been in two major conflicts, and a pin that was still so unusual as to be nearly unrecognizable: a half starburst. The pin had been developed by Fleet to recognize persons who had been in the path of a nuclear blast. Despite the fact that it was authorized to both Fleet and Terran perso
«Are you the Michael O'Neal that was on Diess, the one who got the Medal of Honor?» she asked quietly.
«Yes,» Mike snapped. «Next question.»
«No question,» she said with an honest smile. «I just wanted to thank you. My brother is in the Seventh Cavalry. He made it back to the Dantren Perimeter, but he never would have made it out without your platoon arriving when it did. Thank you.»
Well, that was an entirely different matter. «Damn, I'm glad to hear that! You know, the armored forces hardly ever get any mention in all the fuss. They stacked the damn Posleen up like cordwood even before we got there and nobody ever gives them any credit. How's he doing? I admit I haven't kept up with the units on Diess.»
«They returned his division to the States. He's down with the Texas Guard units, getting ready for The Day.»
«Well, when you talk to him, wish him well from me,» Mike said with a smile.
«Okay, I'll do that. He'll be happy I stopped.»
«Good luck yourself.»
«Well, we're from Missouri. From what they're saying on the news, we should be hit lightly. I hope so, but I'm sorry for all the people on the coasts.»
«Yeah, most of my people are in the coastal plains. But no place is going to be completely safe, so get yourself a weapon. If they're swarming, you might not even be able to take one with you,» he said bluntly. «But if they've been whittled down, it might save your life. I recommend a twelve-gauge riot gun. They've got a kick like a mule, but it's hard to miss with a shotgun at close range and double-ought will take down a Posleen just fine. You may be in the safest spot there is and have the bad luck of a globe landing on you. So get a weapon.»
«Okay, I will. Thanks again.»
«Take care.»
As the stewardess walked away, the Fleet captain looked up from her papers.
«I thought it was you, but I wasn't going to be impolite and ask,» she said with a strong English accent. Mike, who had a fair ear for accents and had spent time with the British while developing the ACS program, placed it as Midlands.
«Yeah, well, I'm me, ma'am. I've never been anything else.»
«You're going to Washington?»
«Yes, ma'am, apparently General Taylor wants some advice on how to run the war.»
«Well, I can't think of a better source for Combat Suit advice. Might I ask you what is causing you to be so caustic, young man?»
Mike let out a sigh, much of his formless anger blowing out with it. The problems he was dealing with weren't the captain's fault. Nor was his own lack of confidence. «Well, Captain, my company is going through an Operational Readiness Inspection and an inspection by the Inspector General's office at the moment and I would much rather be there than giving dog and pony shows in D.C. I gave a bunch of them last year and nobody gave a shit, pardon my French, so I don't know that it'll be any different this time.»
«So you're really going to be telling General Taylor how to run the war?» she said with a chuckle.