" `When the enemy is strong, retreat, when the enemy is weak, attack.' "
"Yeah, and `devise strategems.' But as to the weapons to be used?"
"A Posleen company will have about eight heavy rocket launchers," Mike continued, looking back to the briefing papers. "As far as anyone can guess, they are capable of going through an Abrams the long way. Several more three millimeter Gauss guns that will probably do a soft kill on an Abrams and will definitely screw up a Bradley."
"They're unaimed," the general pointed out.
"With all due respect, no, sir, they're not," Mike disagreed. "The weapons are sightless, that does not mean that there is no aiming. For all we know the Posleen are naturals for shooting from the hip."
"Good point," Horner admitted. "But firing from the hip is only a short-range answer. Are we going somewhere with this?"
"Yes, and that's the point. If we get in close they'll screw us using any modern system." Mike cocked an eyebrow.
"I had actually gotten that far myself," Horner noted. He gifted Mike with another cold smile and folded his hands in his lap. He had tired of complaints, it was time for ideas.
O'Neal nodded and reopened the briefing packet. "To stop them will require infantry. We can degrade them with artillery; air is out; we might be able to come up with a wonder tank, but if it's too big the production end will kill us. But we have to have something that can take the fight to them, not just fight in fortifications, stop them in place and survive even when being swarmed, call for fire . . ."
"I had two thoughts," Jack added.
"Hmm," Mike was back looking at the design of the God King's vehicle, a saucer-shaped anti-gravity sled with a center-mounted heavy weapon. The pictured system mounted a multibarreled heavy laser.
"I was thinking that walkers would be the way to go," said the general, leaning slightly sideways to see if the former NCO was listening. The slight contemptuous snort was sign enough. "What?"
"See this?" Mike asked, pointing to the laser.
"Yes."
"Says here the God Kings mount heavy lasers, heavy Gauss guns or multiple repeating Hyper Velocity Missile launchers. Now, unless you're talking about enough walkers for target overload, I wouldn't want to be in anything that stands out like a walker." Mike gestured again at the picture. "Five or six of these things would eat a walker for lunch and there are between fourteen and twenty per `brigade.' Not to mention that it would be some walker to survive these Hyper Velocity Missiles. Last, but not least, I think that cav would consider the walkers their system."
"I'll worry about turf fights," the general corrected, "you worry about systems. So, what about killing them before they get the chance to kill us? We should be able to engage at long range and take out the God Kings."
"Sure, under the best of circumstances, Jack, but what happens to you when they finally close? Or you suddenly find yourself in their midst? Come on! You taught me that one. I won't ask if you remember the Grenada jump."
"Well, then, combat suits, which was my other idea, would be out, too," said the general with a grimace. Facing these forces with unarmored infantry would make a butcher's bill beyond belief.
"Not necessarily," interjected Mike. He flipped to another page of the briefing packet. "Think of it this way. The Posleen fight in phalanx, right? Large blocks of normals with God Kings at irregular intervals, usually well back from the front."
"Right." The general's eyes narrowed as he watched Mike, working through the logic.
"And they basically can't be routed. You can't frighten them or hammer them into retreat." Mike scratched his chin in thought.
"The Galactics never have been able to," Horner pointed out. The possibility that humans might be able to was inherent in the correction.
"So you have to kill them, each and every one." Mike shook his head at the thought, tapping his cheek and scratching the slight stubble already arising. "But, even if you're at a terrain obstacle, and they're on a limited front, if you kill the first million, there's only two million behind them."
"Right," concurred Horner. "So you have to have something that is robust enough to kill them in the millions and survive getting hit by millions of them simultaneously." He thought about what he just said in terms of anything remotely "infantry-like." "You're right, it's impossible, we're fucked." The general shook his head, lips pursed, eyes focused in the distance on the problem.
Mike's eyes flashed wide and he snapped his fingers. "Right on the first constraint; wrong on the second. They don't have to survive being hit by millions of attackers simultaneously." He stabbed his finger at each point for emphasis. "If you have a classic walker, it will stand out above their formation and be a target for virtually every Posleen in range. But, if you have a suit of combat armor, it can be at their level, notionally, if the terrain is fairly flat, and only hit by the forces in the front rank. If a unit of suits is putting out enough hell on its own, it will suppress the fire directed against it, especially if it is heavily supported by artillery.
"In addition a unit will be able to pass through choking terrain, terrain that will be impassable to the Posleen and damn difficult for tanks or walkers, move faster than Posleen can and bring a world of hurt down on them at every contact. With the right Command Communication and Control systems a suit will be able to call for fire with pinpoint accuracy while simultaneously laying down close direct and distant indirect fire." Mike nodded in finality. "I was emotionally in favor of the suits from the beginning, I just wanted to ensure that my instinct met reality." He sat back and smiled, a feeling of relief flooding through him. The coming storm would be costly, but if the Galactics could supply powered combat armor humanity might yet survive.
"Okay," said Horner, thinking about the concept and nodding to himself. He began to frown, a sure sign that he was pleased. "I can buy that. If the Galactics can build it."
"And if we can afford it; they're gonna be expensive. Speaking of which, do you have anything on the budget and force structure discrepancy? It's not very well explained in the packet." Mike flipped to the back and searched the index but the only entry referred to a single uninformative line.
"Well," said Horner, his face turning even more grim, "this is what I was told. The Federation has been fighting this war since before our Civil War. At first they would contest each planet as a Federation, but after they lost planet after planet, they couldn't handle the mounting cost. So now each planet is on its own when it comes to planetary defense, while the Fleet is supported by the Federation. Planets that are under assault can normally raise funds through their corporate networks for defense. Since we have no corporate allies, where we are going to get the funding for our planetary defense is a major question."
"Well, if the Fleet is in gear, they'll never reach the ground," Mike pointed out.
"Right," agreed Horner, nodding, "but the Fleet right now is composed of fairly poor quality ships. That is what the Navy and Air Force guys are supposed to correct." He gestured at another flag officer, an admiral in this case, deep in conversation with another civilian.
"And guess who gets the Navy contract," snorted Mike, noticing who the civilian was. "So, we are going to be left here to rot on the ground," finished Mike sourly. "I hope we can at least get a hop in a combat shuttle out of it."
"Not entirely. The units that we envision here at this conference, the ones that are based around Galactic technologies, will first go to the Fleet. Some of them will be slated to `home' defense, but most will be deployed off planet." Horner's face was blank, waiting for the inevitable reaction to that statement.