Then came a fierce pursuit and annihilation campaign. The Helljumpers' Marines had been briefed from the start: if there were any prisoners, they could spare the Sandfolk and leave them in the custody of the local militia following behind. But the raiders had to be executed on the spot.
There was no helping it. The raiders had earned such a terrible reputation throughout the galaxy, and the Meishanda Trolls were a warrior race whose fearsome name had shaken the galaxy for nearly two thousand years. Even unarmed, they could kill several armed young men. One mistake, and the consequences would be unthinkable.
They had limited manpower, and there was no room for misplaced mercy on the battlefield. They could only take extreme measures.
Besides, raiders didn't really count as people. They weren't protected by any interstellar conventions, so killing them on the spot wouldn't land anyone in legal trouble.
Fortunately, perhaps because that irrational fervor hadn't completely faded, the raiders who were cut off either resisted to the death or killed themselves on the spot. Few surrendered, so they didn't leave everyone with much of a moral burden.
Before long, they found their so-called "big fish." A Troll raider, dressed far more lavishly than the soldiers around him, was gesturing and shouting orders as his men assembled an ion cannon for a counterattack. Summers reacted swiftly and blew him away with a single shot. He and his men were caught in the flashless shock wave. The ion cannon, which they'd only just begun putting together, was reduced to twisted parts.
By the time the others reached the scene, only the Troll officer remained. He was covered in grime and blood, and the splendid sashes wrapped around him had been reduced to scraps of cloth. Gripping a double-ended battle blade, he