Blood and Dust
The sky above Mars was a deep, endless crimson as the transport shuttle sliced through the atmosphere, its hull trembling from turbulence. Kale stood at the head of the cramped troop bay, silent, helmet clipped to his belt, his gaze fixed on the flickering display showing their drop zone.
It wasn't a simulation this time. No safe resets. No oversight from instructors behind one-way glass.
This was war training—live fire, real consequences.
Around him sat a dozen cadets, a patchwork of different squads pulled together into a temporary strike team. Most of them were veterans of the academy's brutal culling, but few had tasted real combat. Their eyes darted between one another, some filled with excitement, others with dread.
Ox sat to his left, helmet already on, checking his weapon. Kora was across the aisle, quiet, focused, fingers tracing the edge of her knife. Even she looked uneasy. That alone said everything Kale needed to know.
Lie Cadence wasn't here—assigned to a separate unit for the operation. A small blessing.
The comm crackled. "Drayen, you're greenlit. You're the ranking cadet officer. This one's on you."
The mission was a standard recon and elimination op. A mining outpost near the southern pole had gone dark. The assumption was a xeno raiding party. But assumptions got people killed.
Kale scanned the team. "We drop fast. Secure the LZ, sweep the lower tunnels first. No one goes off alone. We move in pairs, triangle sweep formation. You see movement, you call it out. No heroics."
A few cadets nodded, some stiffly. Others avoided his gaze.
He didn't blame them. He wasn't their friend. He was just the one with the burden of command. The one they'd blame if things went sideways.
The shuttle jolted. The red light flicked to green.
"Drop!"
The rear ramp slammed down, and the howl of Martian wind swallowed the bay.
They descended into hell.
---
The outpost was a skeletal shell half-buried in red sand, its structures warped and half-destroyed. Kale led the first squad through a broken gate, weapon raised, eyes scanning every shadow.
Ox was behind him, silent and solid. Kora flanked the opposite side, checking angles with machine precision.
No bodies.
No blood.
But there was movement.
"Contact right!" someone shouted.
Gunfire erupted.
Kale turned on instinct, unloading two shots into the writhing form that lunged from the sand. It wasn't a raider.
It was something else—taller than a man, four limbs ending in blade-like claws, its skin black and chitinous, eyes glowing a pale green.
A vassal race, one they hadn't seen before.
The thing shrieked as it fell, and two more took its place.
Kale snapped orders. "Fall back to cover! Focus fire! Don't get surrounded!"
The cadets scrambled to obey, some hesitating, some reacting too slow. One was dragged screaming into a side corridor before Kale could reach him.
Blood sprayed across the walls.
The squad was unraveling.
Kale moved to intercept another xeno, firing point blank as it lunged at a younger cadet. The creature died in a twitching heap, but the boy didn't stop shaking.
"On me!" Kale shouted, dragging the survivors into a tight defensive circle inside the central operations building. He slammed the door shut behind them, breathing hard.
Ox was bleeding from his shoulder, Kora's armor was scratched, but she was still standing.
"Three dead," someone muttered. "We didn't even—this wasn't supposed to be—"
"It was never supposed to be easy," Kale cut in, voice sharp. "But we adapt. That's why we're still breathing."
Silence.
Then Kora spoke. "We need to clear the tunnel network. That's where they're nesting."
Kale nodded. "We do this methodically. Burn them out. No room for mistakes."
No one argued.
The fear was still there—but so was something else.
Resolve.
---
Hours later, the tunnels stank of ash and death. They burned the nests, cleared the last chamber, and carried out their wounded.
The cadets who survived moved like ghosts—silent, hardened. Changed.
Kale walked out last, face streaked with grime and blood.
When the recovery shuttle landed, Gavril and two officers were waiting.
The commander looked at Kale with something new in his eyes.
Not approval.
But recognition.
"You kept them alive," Gavril said quietly. "That's what separates you from the rest."
Kale met his gaze. "Three died."
"You can't save everyone. You saved the rest. That's more than most do their first time out."
Kale didn't reply. He didn't need praise. He didn't want it.
He just wanted to be better next time.
---
That night, Kale sat alone in his bunk, helmet on the floor beside him. The smell of smoke still clung to his armor.
Kora walked in, tossing him a protein bar. "Eat something."
He caught it, but didn't open it.
She sat across from him, elbows on her knees. "That wasn't your fault."
"I know," Kale murmured.
Kora studied him. "But you still feel like it is."
He didn't respond.
"I've seen a lot of leaders crack after their first blood. You're not one of them."
Kale looked up. "No. I'm not."
She stood, heading for the door. "Good. We'll need you standing when this war hits our doorstep."
The door hissed shut behind her.
Kale leaned back, staring at the ceiling.
The war had only just begun.
---
Border War Feed – Xeno Frontline (Secure Military Transmission)
Location: Gorgon Pass – Human Forward Outpost 117
Status: Overrun
Transmission Begins:
> "They're inside the wire! We didn't see them—God, they were burrowed! Tell command—tell them it's not just raids anymore! They're coordinating! Pull back to Outpost 115—"
[Transmission Ends]
---
Quote of the Chapter:
"No battle plan survives first contact with the enemy." – Helmuth von Moltke the Elder
---