Authors: John Ringo
"That must thrill the hell out of them," Mike said. "Tam, this is massively fucked up. How in the
hell
did an organization like that exist right under our noses? And they were . . . Good. Jesus Christ, they were good. They stayed true to their salt in a way it's almost impossible to find these days."
He was still coming to grips with the feelings he'd had at the last of the battle. The feeling that even though it was insane, stupid, pointless and even dishonorable at a level, he couldn't think of anywhere he'd rather be.
"Well, they're dead, now," Tam said.
"Yes," Mike said, grimly. "But you'd better find out who survived. Dammit, Tam . . ."
"Mike," the general said softly. "It's not your problem anymore. You need to get out there and make sure we don't have to face the Posleen as well. I'll be back here rolling in the pig pit. That's . . . my job."
"And I leave you to it," Mike said, rolling out of bed. He looked at the hospital gown and snorted. "I take it you brought some clothes."
"Lieutenant!"
The Ghin removed an aethal piece from the board, looked at it for a moment, then set it aside. He moved another and faintly smiled.
"Let the ever-be-damned Aldenata consider
that
."
Like a whisper to the dusk
An oath against the shadows, denying the dark
FIGHT FIGHT FIGHT 'til the break of dawn
Like a prayer unto the dawn
In arms against the shadows, destroying the dark
FIGHT FIGHT FIGHT 'til the break of dawn
—Atreyu, "Honor"
THE END
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