present

The military base is, as expected, flattened. The electrovores are known for their efficiency, after all.

Craters lay gaping along the concrete walls that bordered the outpost. Ivy creeps down the rubble that once stood to hold back the advancing vore legions. What had once been the main gate to Omaha military base had been blasted open by what seemed to be a vore siege cannon. The titanium frame of the entranceway is ribbed with the signature rings of their photon blasts. Inside, the buildings are no less destroyed. In addition to the craters created by the artillery bombing of the base, chunks of what looks like once was the HQ of the outpost seem to have created their own holes in the worn cement. Bodies of dozens of human and vore soldiers alike lay scattered on the ground. I order the rest of the platoon to spread out and look for documents, weapons, supplies, anything the resistance could use. There must be some things that the damn vores hadn't destroyed.

I peer inside one of the command buildings. Pitch black. That's not a problem. I tap the side of my left "eye", and the room fills with just enough light to see where I'm going. The interior looks like it had seen better days. A part of the roof had collapsed onto the floor, which seemed to have crushed a few vores, as evidenced by the plated arms sticking out from under the rubble. Hastily put together barricades made of toppled filing cabinets and desks are singed with photon blasts, and more fallen human and vore soldiers line the hallways in unnatural positions. I gingerly step over the corpses, careful not to impale my foot on the spikes on the backs of the dead vores. Against the back wall at the end of the hallway, it looks like human soldiers had made their last stand, as the bodies of about seven of them slumped close together, with a semicircle of at least two dozen vores situated around them. I kneel down next to one of them and squint at the small name tag on his blood-spattered armor. Marine Lieutenant Karlson. I had served with him a few times while I was in the G.U.A.R.D. He was a good soldier. I glance at the rest of the men laying beside him to see if I can make out who they were, but it seems there aren't enough of them left to tell.

I turn around as one of my men knocks once against the bloodied walls. He looks down at his gloved hand, and winces. "What is it, Jenkins?", I ask. His head snaps back towards me. "I found something you might recognize, sir." He hands me a small stack of worn documents.