Naero's War: The Citation Series 2: The High Crusade
all with stunned and surprised looks frozen on their dead faces. Millions of equally stunned defenders and civilians finally began to realize that they were not only free, but delivered from the foe.
    It was as if avenging spirits had walked about and among the invaders that night and stolen their lives away in silent waves of sweeping, whispering death.
    Throughout the gigacity of Kolovan, and three others, the defenders found countless enemies cut down where they had stood and fought. Eyes staring wide in shock and fear. Throats slashed, necks and spines severed, eyes stabbed out, lungs and hearts punctured, heads nearly decapitated and skulls crushed. Guts sliced open and ripped out.
    Bravo exhausted themselves, but they took out entire armies of invaders, struck down silently in the black.
    And the legend of the deadly ghosts of Bravo Command only continued to spread and grow. Across all sectors, the invaders were freaking out, big time.
    Naero walked among Company 36 and introduced herself once more, apologizing for slightly deceiving them the way she did. She had her reasons.
    Jonny Fox laughed. “So, Brighteyes. Does this mean we’re not really friends for life?” he asked.
    Naero smiled. “It doesn’t change that much. Hand me a cold Jett, ffl, and let’s talk about it.”
    They did so. That night after the battle was another Fifthday, the ancient Thursday named after some other god. Fifthday nights were Chat Nights, and the Marines broke off into groups and pairs to talk, gripe, or get to know each other better.
    Naero sucked down some more of her stash of Jett, sharing one of hers with Jonny this time. “So, you gonna tell me this long story of yours?”
    Jonny Fox laughed, still so young that he looked like a boy more than a man. “Oh, I guess it isn’t that long. Like I said, Chime and I are the only surviving members in our family besides our great-granny Farita. Everyone else died in the various wars. Great-granny Fari loves books, and always read to us when she was raising us. She made us read to her when we got old enough. If you haven’t noticed, Chime’s a little bit of a kook about books and reading and all that.”
    Naero chuckled. “Really? I had no idea. So, what do you want, Jonny?”
    “Me? Not that much. As soon as this war’s over, I’m done with the Marines. I’ll muster out like a lot of Marines do, and get a little ship, somewhere nice and peaceful on some milk run for great-gran and me, and Chime, too, if she wants to tag along. A simple life in the stars for a Spacer. Maybe track myself down a cute wife and have some kids for great-gran to fuss over.”
    Naero nodded, drained her borbble and reached for another. “That all sounds like a pretty good life, Jonny.”
    He belched real loud. “I thought so.”
    They stopped talking for a while and listened to the other Marines around them.
    Staff Sergeant Gerrold Donovan had three kids with his wife Kelly: Donald, age six, Mearal, age four, and Tarana, at one and a half. He showed pics and vids of his kids around for all to see. Corporal Poker Elkins and his wife Arrella had two children: Wilton, age five, and Karina, age three. Victoria Apache had a two-year-old daughter with her husband, Jim Williams. Everyone in the Marines was proud of their kids, if they had them, and liked to show them off to everyone.
    Everyone had something, or someone to live for.
    Trisha Marshall, their scrounge, had a Marine starfighter pilot named Jake Turner that she was crazy about. Vincent Fay had fallen nose over tail in lust with a medtek on a hospital ship, Shelly Baker, who apparently felt the same way about that gorgeous hunk of Marine.
    Everyone was either in the Marines for life or, after this tour or war, they were going to take it easy and live whatever they called “the good life” somewhere else somehow.
    Either way, everyone had big plans.

 
     
     
     
    3
     
     
    Zvigeny-7 was a special case. The local population of former Ramoran and

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