To insult someone we call him "bestial." For deliberate cruelty and nature, "human" might be the greater insult. – Isaac Asimov

Chapter Fourteen: The Darkness

Col. Wu Shan, Power Infantry Regiment Commander, 3rd Army

Despite being locked up inside a shell of metal and wires, I was fully aware of the world outside in a manner that was almost intimate. The heads-up-display inside of my helmet gave me a variety of forms of intelligence about the enemy. With a few spoken commands and movements of the eyes I could manipulate maps, communicate with any forces within sub-light communications range, relay orders graphically, or initiate combat programming. In this instant, I was mostly concerned with two reports. Orbital imagery from our warships orbiting the Taxxon homeworld spotted pockets of resistance rising up against us. The Yeerk's new reptilian hosts, which we called 'reds' – short for 'redshirted dinosaurs' – due to their propensity for dying en masse. They were supposed to be the Yeerk's new preferred hosts. Too bad the Yeerk doctrine of war was millennia outdated. They didn't provide their foot soldiers enough firepower. Not only did human forces carry multiple weapons, we were never stingy with air support, intelligence assets, engineering battalions, special operations cells, and all the conveniences of modern warfare. But I digress.

The reds and Taxxon were coming at us overland. They were several miles away and travelling on foot. The imagery showed that they were armed with the smallest dracon weapons that were analogous to side arms. Most notably, the Taxxons outnumbered the 'reds' three to two. As this was the Taxxon homeworld, and the fact that Taxxons propagated quite massively, there should have been more Taxxons. Those bulbous slugs should have outnumbered their other half at least ten to one. From the intelligence gleaned from our Andalite allies, it was widely known that Taxxons could burrow underground. This made them undetectable by orbital imagery. Their metabolisms were unenergetic enough to produce a negligible heat signature as well. We had a countermeasure in place, however.

"Seismograph sensor buoys in place." The officer in charge of the engineering battalion reported over communications.

I quickly punched up the standby order to my unit. Our objective was to defend a drilling platform set up by the engineering battalions. There were numerous, identical installations across the planet. My heavy armored infantry was arrayed in a defensive perimeter around the installation. The terrain around us consisted of sizable, sight-obscuring sand dunes the color of rust. The mixed wave crested the dune as I ordered the unit to advance in unison. The minigun mounted on my left arm hard-point spat out projectiles like a swarm of biting insects.

I don't know if you know the true scope of battlefield weaponry. Gunfire, as antiquated and primitive as it seems in interstellar war, does not make neat, round holes. Bullets deform as they encounter solid substance. The kinetic energy is transferred to the target, making holes orders of magnitude larger than the projectile itself. A burst decapitated a 'red' in front of me and burst apart several more Taxxons standing behind the target. Occasionally, the Taxxons would pull a sled housing a sort of mortar weapon. On this, the unit would direct railcannon fire, tearing up the weapon and mount. Seismic sensors alerted me to the presence of the massed Taxxon wave passing underneath us. As they appeared behind us, we sprang our countermeasures.

Units of the air multi-role infantry were kept in reserve hovering about the cloud line in their gunships. As the Taxxons emerged, the gunships carrying the lighter infantry units emerged. The buzzsaw-like report of minigun fire, sonic booms from the coilguns, and the concussive sensation of rockets told the tale of the Taxxon's fate.

As our forces carried the battle, I surveyed the field. Occasionally, I would spot the downed forms of one of my men, their blue-grey armor looking like the wreckage of a machine rather than a living being. Their platoons – called squadrons in armored infantry parlance, well drilled, had already taken care of them as my tactical display reported the blue crosses representing medivac units coming to take the casualties back to the dropships for treatment. We gave no such care to downed enemies. Not that we could. Taxxon were soft creatures renowned for bursting apart like a steamed pork bun when hit with weapons fire.

"We're done here. Pull back your units." The word came back from the drilling platforms.

I acknowledged the message through my command and control programming and issued those same orders to my unit. All around me, the lumbering blue-grey forms of my subordinates fell back in an organized fashion. Though, to be honest, the enemy ranks were so decimated there was little to worry about. We boarded our dropships, accompanied by the engineers. Lifting off, we said our mental goodbyes to this planet as we knew what was coming.

Looking down from orbit, small blooms dotted the planetary surface like a sick man with a pox. The drilling platforms were made to punch a hole through the planetary crust at certain fault lines. We seeded the bones of the world with nuclear bombs. Whereas Hork-Bajir was a rescue operation, Taxxa was an extermination. The bright flashes were appealing in a way that belied the pure hell that was happening on the surface of the planet.

Nothing would live on this principal Yeerk world. Their own homeworld was next…