No sooner had the fliers left, then Sarge fired off orders. While the rest of us had been praying to whatever Gods we felt were listening, he’d been planning our revenge.

“This is how it’s going to go down. We backtrack to the cliff face where we first saw their camp, and then we’re going to dump our entire ordinance of thermite grenades down upon it.” He jerked his thumb in my direction, “If Peters here is correct, for once, then the ensuing fires might be enough to distract them while we get our job done.”

Each of us nodded grimly. We knew there was no running away from this fight. Either we completed the mission or we died. There was no middle ground allowed in the Imperial Numeri training regime.

There was much that concerned me about our new roles. I didn’t understand how these deadly missions could be considered training and why we weren’t being given access to better technology to fight with. Whatever our role was to be, it was unlikely to be as an elite troop.

The body of the arachnid was no longer present when passed by where it had died. Scorch marks and blood remained as reminders of the firefight and our loss, though. Their dead brethren retrieved, the fliers didn’t return, and the rest of the march back to the cliff was slow and uneventful.

We huddled at the cliff edge, preparing ourselves. Hundreds of feet below us, the camp was alive with movement and lights. The canopy obscured the details, but there was no doubt our skirmish hadn’t gone unnoticed.

“When I say, I want each of you to hurl your grenades as far into camp as you can. Robinson, take the left. Peters, you’re in the center, and Westcott you take the right. The idea is to cause chaos, so we want a widespread.” Sarge looked us each in the eye, “Ready?”

It wasn’t really a question, so no one answered with more than an inclined head. We were already concentrating on picking our targets. The center area where I’d been told to focus all looked the same to me; bland pale webbing covered everything. Deep within the center of the camp, I could see colored lights clustered more densely. Figuring that must indicate something of importance, I chose that as my first target.

“Fire away!” Sarge shouted, hurling the first grenade of our salvo deep inside the enemy camp.

Massive bright explosions detonated within the camp as grenades fell upon it. The phosphorus that fuelled the grenades was like Napalm. Igniting spontaneously, it burnt white-hot, producing intense heat and thick pillars of smoke.

The plan had been to flee once the grenades detonated, but the squad lingered, watching the rapidly growing devastation in shock. Flames raced quickly throughout the camp, eating hungrily at the covering webs. The canopies were collapsing throughout the camp, and it seemed the entire area was quickly turning into a huge bonfire. It wasn’t long until we heard high pitched screaming from within the maelstrom. Creatures were roasting alive down there.

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“Good work men. Time to go.” Sarge had no sympathy for the Arachnia as he turned away from the camp’s wreckage, and one by one, we turned and followed him.

The continued crackles of destruction mingled with cries of agony as we made our way down towards the communications array. Westcott refused to look over the edge at the burning camp as we descended.

My gaze drifted over the now smoldering remains frequently. It stunned me at how easily the expansive camp had been destroyed. My mood swung between glee that we had avenged Schmidt and guilt over the death and destruction which had been inflicted upon the Arachnia. This hadn’t been a battle, it’d been a slaughter.

“That is one sweet looking barbecue there,” Robinson commented with a smirk. He appeared to have no such qualms. Worse still, the psychotic bastard wasn’t wrong. There was a lingering smell of burning meat in the air.

The only Arachnia we saw appeared as we moved cautiously up towards the communications array. Stumbling out of the camp’s smoke, coughing horribly as he staggered forward, it carried a smaller alien in his front limbs. His body was covered in burns and coated with soot. As we leveled our guns towards him, he took three more steps forward then collapsed. Robinson walked over, kicking his thorax’s side as his legs curled into his body. “All the gear and no idea,” He muttered. Robinson had none of my concerns about killing; to him, the corpse was just another dead alien.

“Let’s destroy this thing and get out.” Sarge indicated. I nodded in agreement. The sooner we completed this mission, the better. I felt no pride in our accomplishment.

My sole remaining thermite grenade ignited the tower so quickly that we had to back up from its flames’ heat. As we stood there in their flickering shadows, I spoke of the concerns which taunted me.

“Why were we sent here, Sarge?” I waved a hand across the burning campsite, “Did these creatures deserve to die? What was the point of all this?”

Sarge shrugged, “Those questions are above my paygrade. I’m just trying to keep you, idiots, alive." His voice was strained. He sounded resigned.

Robinson threw in his tuppence, “Those alien freaks deserved to die. Have you forgotten what they did to Schmidt?” His voice rose dangerously as he glared at me. His hands balled into fists as he advanced on me.

Westcott shrank back into the shadows, waiting for this to play out.

Stumbling back, I kept my feet as I retreated. “Think about it, you ass. The Arachnia aren’t to blame for Schmidt’s death. It’s whoever sent us on this mission.”

For a long time, Robinson stood, large and threatening in front of me. I refused to back down and waited for him to strike me. Then Sarge pushed between us. “Enough, both of you. Now isn’t the time for this. We can discuss this when we’re safely back at base.”

Robinson nodded mutely, and as we headed back I knew this discussion was far from over.