Thanks for the word, Kij. (I borrowed it from one of your books.)
*
The hordes stood at a distance from the army, waiting, taunting. More than mere soldiers, the Kitlamianis were fanatics with one unified goal. To eliminate any trace of the human race from their planet. One body at a time.
Their carnage involved more than killing. They purged the dead, vaporizing their flesh for fertilizer to enhance their crops. The soldiers in Kelso's division knew what fate they faced if struck down in battle. Many of them clutched at their chests, feeling for their missing idents.
For the first time, the army changed policy on the dog tags they'd utilized for generations of soldiers. Against the Kitlamianis, no trace of a fallen soldier would remain, so all combatants left their idents on the transport ships. At the end of the fight, as they returned on the drop ships, they picked up their tags. Families were notified for all un-retrieved idents.
That's how Kelso learned of his brother's death. That's why he stood here on this battlefield instead of moving markers on a strategic map back on the HQ ship. That's how his last remaining sibling, his sister Tarina, would learn of his death if he fell today.
When he fell.
Their battalion was outnumbered and exhausted. He had hand-picked his men. Each had lost a family member in a battle with the Kitlamianis. Revenge hovered over the field like flies on carcasses. Kelso sniffed, inhaling the micro-fine particles of dust from the Kitlamian soil through his filter. Then, with resolve, he let out a slow breath. The filter vibrated, sounding like a dog growling. His men followed suit, adding their own rumbles to the war cry.
Their carnage involved more than killing. They purged the dead, vaporizing their flesh for fertilizer to enhance their crops. The soldiers in Kelso's division knew what fate they faced if struck down in battle. Many of them clutched at their chests, feeling for their missing idents.
For the first time, the army changed policy on the dog tags they'd utilized for generations of soldiers. Against the Kitlamianis, no trace of a fallen soldier would remain, so all combatants left their idents on the transport ships. At the end of the fight, as they returned on the drop ships, they picked up their tags. Families were notified for all un-retrieved idents.
That's how Kelso learned of his brother's death. That's why he stood here on this battlefield instead of moving markers on a strategic map back on the HQ ship. That's how his last remaining sibling, his sister Tarina, would learn of his death if he fell today.
When he fell.
Their battalion was outnumbered and exhausted. He had hand-picked his men. Each had lost a family member in a battle with the Kitlamianis. Revenge hovered over the field like flies on carcasses. Kelso sniffed, inhaling the micro-fine particles of dust from the Kitlamian soil through his filter. Then, with resolve, he let out a slow breath. The filter vibrated, sounding like a dog growling. His men followed suit, adding their own rumbles to the war cry.
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