was wet and muddy and hungry and cold and he was fifty light-years from home. A foreign sun gave a cold blue light and gravity, twice what he was used, was in every movement an agony of effort. But
after tens of thousands of years this part of war had not changed. It was convenient to were fine with their ships are polished and overtook them, but when it came down to it, it was still the soldier on the ground, the infantry, take and hold it, with blood, inch by inch. Like this damned planet of a star never heard of it until we had landed. And now it was sacred ground because there too the enemy. The enemy, the only other intelligent race in the galaxy. Cruel, disgusting, repulsive monsters.
The first contact had taken place near the center of the Galaxy, after a slow and difficult settlement of a few thousand planets, and it was the war immediately, and those they started shooting without even groped an agreement, a peaceful solution.
Now, planet to planet, it was fight, with tooth and nail.
was wet and muddy and hungry and cold, and the day was raw with a violent wind that hurt his eyes. But the enemies were trying to infiltrate and every outpost was vital.
He stayed alert, gun ready. Fifty thousand light-years from home, fighting on a strange world and wondering if he would ever live to see home again.
And then he saw one of them crawling toward him. He took aim and fired. The enemy made that strange horrible sound they all did, then did not move again.
The sound and sight of the corpse made him shudder. Many, over time, they had become accustomed, there were more cases, but he was not. Repulsive creatures they were, with only two arms and two legs, the ghastly white skin, and without scales.
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