Author's note
Hello there, I am the author of this novel, Ardorus, it's a pleasure to make your aquaintance. I hope you find this enjoyable to read as I do to write, but enough idle chatter, let me cut straight to the point as it were.
I want your commentary. I want you to tell me what I'm doing right, and what I'm doing wrong. I cannot imporive without the help of you dear reader, for this entire enterprise is for your enjoyment. If you're not enjoying this fiction, and there is something I can do to improve it, please let me know.
Additionally, this "prologue" takes place one year into the war, (post contact) I intended to give an idea of the scale which this will take place on.
My thanks for reading this
Ardorus.
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The soldier marched along an steel path under a metalic grey sky, the soft clanking of armored boots on the polished walkway echoed through the empty air as the sentry took their precise measured steps.
one thousand one hundred and forty one, one thousand one hundred and forty two one thousand one hundred and forty three...
Exactly two thousand paces to each side of the square, precisely one thousand meters to reach the edge of the tungsten carbide path. The soldier pivoted, doing a crisp, perfect left face and began to march again. The chilly autumn wind whispered in the air, blowing up the dust from the still scorched rust red earth. The soldier paid it no heed, but to slightly adjust the Accelerator rifle he had shouldered, it's matte black casing dully shining with lethal intent as the barrel stared up at the cold grey sky. The sentinel continued his march, two thousand paces, one thousand meters, left face, begin again.
Some may have found the task he performed tedious, but not the soldier. He had fought for this honor with every fiber of his being, he had bled for this duty as the purple heart he wore on his parade uniform and the cybernetic hand gripping the rifle stock would attest to.
Every step he took was measured to be the exact same length down to the millimeter, He would accept nothing less, even without anyone watching he never relaxed.This was the duty of one of the guards of arlington, the honor one of the watchers of the fallen.
His charges were forever in the corner of his eye, he would have it no other way. Each was once an individual, each was unique despite the veritable mountains of them. As the soldier turned the corner again he briefly had a full view of what he was here to guard.
Upon first glance each of the hundreds of hexagonal monoliths appeared to all be the same, but with his enhanced vision he could see the individual weld marks denoting each individual addition to every pillar, the soldier could even read the tiny script written on the closest welds of each the steel hexagons that made up the beheamoth metal constructs that towered over him.
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Haverson, Michael S, 665-98-723
Cartwright, Lila C, 751-33-592
Knight, Brendan F, 882-60-991
Freeman, Hannah L, 932-71-642
Alexander, Tyler V, 959-49-336
Xiao Long, Logan, 850-989-557
Chenkov, Pioter, 799-998-254
Carmine, Brandon C, 829-43-301
Sanderson Emily S, Henry Jonathan L, Williamson Lionel E, Parker Allison G, Guderian Jamie P...
The names went on and on, each and every single one originally inscribed on a small metal hexagonal dog tag, each had been painstakingly hand welded together one at a time to create each and every single one of the steel towers which reached upwards, defiantly into the heavens. The dead here were his charge, their memory entrusted to him, the unsung heroes of thousands of battles on hundreds of unremembered worlds in the desperate struggle to push the endless legions of the Ruk back. The survival of tens of billions, guaranteed by the sacrifices of hundreds of millions. They were why the soldier could march upon the steel path that he walked, the metal taken from the destroyed warships that had also been laid to rest here.
Enterprise, Lexington IV, Midway, Johnston, Tokugawa, Kuroshio, Valliant...
The list of slagged ships could make up a pillar of their own. The soldier continued onward unfaltering in his steps. Like every other member of his generation he remembered the day that THEY came... His grip on the rifle tightened slightly he remembered the simple demands that they had broadcast over every television set, to the backdrop of a burning colony world, "Surrender or die" they had demanded. He remembered even now what happened when they received an enraged humanities collective response, "No".
He remembered when the skies turned crimson, the ocean boiling and the world burning, he remembered the day he signed up to serve alongside his best friend, he remembered when they had taken her from him. He remembered them, and he did not, he could not forget. Brothers, sisters, aunts, uncles, mothers, fathers all laying here underneath the graveyard sky.
He looked over to the newest pillar as he marched. This one was responsible for the recent lull in the fighting, for the break humanity had used to catch its collective breath and prepare for the next wave. He looked up at the titanic steel edifice and hoped that their sacrifice had not been in vain, that their lives had bought enough time for the fleet above to finally take the fight to the enemy.
Far above the planet, the fleet exited the massive orbital construction ring around the once blue ball known as Earth and roared across the now perpetually grey Terran sky towards Ruk controlled space. Each warship constructed with loving care, their sleek swordlike designs bristling with heavy weaponry as they assumed formation. To the ground below, each appeared as a small twinking silver star in an otherwise gloomy sky.
Despite the sorrow, despite being the warden of a legion of the dead the soldier smiled to himself, because humanity had not forgotten any of the lessons they had paid for in blood, they had learned from the occupants of this place he guarded and they had not forgiven. Those who rested here had not died in vain.
Perhaps this bloody war would not end any time soon, and perhaps the fallen would have many more added to their number but humanity had learned much from the tales of the restless dead that rested beneath his armored feet, and they were prepared once more to put them into action.
This time it would be different, this time they would push the enemy back. That was what the soldier told himself anyway.
All the while, the clanking of armored boots carried on through the silence, inevitable as the turning of the gears of time themselves.