The Forge World of Shina
The air carried the smells of damp earth, gunsmoke, blood, and an indescribable stench, something like rust mixed with the sickly sweetness of rotting organic matter.
Major Leki leaned against a concrete wall that had been blasted down to half its original height. Its surface had peeled away, exposing twisted reinforcing bars.
He chewed a piece of Synth-Ration hard enough to chip a tooth, his gaze passing through a Firing Port cut into the wall toward the open ground outside, churned over by repeated bombardments, mired in mud, and littered with craters and wreckage.
"Sir," a Recruit beside him leaned closer. His face still held a trace of boyishness, but his eyes were already as numb as those of the veterans around him. He lowered his voice, his gaze straying involuntarily toward several grotesquely shaped corpses belonging to the Rangdan auxiliary forces beyond the Firing Port.
"Do you think... the meat on those xenos bastards... is fucking... edible?"
The trench was quiet, with only scattered explosions in the distance and the wind moaning through the ruins. The question reached several soldiers huddled nearby with perfect clarity. One swallowed, another frowned in disgust, and another's eyes flickered, as though he had been considering the same question.
Leki stopped chewing, slowly turned his head, and glanced at the Recruit.
There was neither reproach nor encouragement in his eyes, only bottomless exhaustion and an almost ruthless pragmatism.
He did not answer. His throat worked as he forced down the last dry mouthful of ration, then he reached over and picked up the Lasgun beside him, fitted with a simple optical scope.
Rather than answer the Recruit immediately, he settled his eye behind the scope and adjusted his breathing, letting himself become one with the cold weapon and this