Lt. Scott's first impression of the carnage that lay before him was that of a war zone. Bodies lay strewn throughout the streets of the small farming community. He began
to turn the corner, but was stopped by a firm hand on his shoulder. He turned to regard Sgt. Stauch who shook his head and motioned for him to stay put.
"You're in charge, Lieutenant", Stauch reminded him, "let us handle this."
Stauch turned back to his squad of commandos. They stood with their backs against the colonies outer wall, weapons at the ready, all save one. Corporal Broski was hunkered down near the wall, sipping
appreciatively from his canteen cup.
Stauch stepped over to the Corporal. "What the hell do you think you're doing, soldier?", he demanded incredulously.
Broski regarded him impassively. "Just takin' a break, Sarge."
"I didn't tell you to take a break, Corporal", Stauch said through clenched teeth. He eyed the amber liquid in the soldier's cup, "and what the hell are you drinking anyway?"
Broski looked up guiltily, "Uhh ... soup?"
Stauch shuddered, "Well, dump it out and get on point!"
Broski shouldered his pack and strolled to the front of the line of Space Fleet personnel. He glanced over at the Sergeant, winked and disappeared around the corner. Several seconds past with no shots,
and Stauch decided to hazard a look. Broski stood in the open, thirty yards from their position, weapon leaning casually against his shoulder.
"GET DOWN!", Stauch yelled waiting tensely for the Corporal to be shot down.
Broski turned back to look at the Sergeant, throwing his arms wide, assuming the posture of the perfect, human target. "There's nothing here", he called back, "everybody's dead." He prodded
the nearest cadaver with his rifle to emphasize his point.
Stauch brought the rest of his squad forward cautiously, taking cover beside a building near the Corporal's location. Stauch waved him over.
"What the hell is wrong with you?", he asked pointedly.
"There ain't no combat here, Sarge.", Broski replied.
"How do you know, Corporal?"
Broski cocked his head, "You can smell it."
The Sergeant looked perplexed. "You can smell what?"
"Combat, Sarge", Broski explained simply.
Stauch shook his head wearily, "And what does combat smell like, Corporal?"
Broski thought for a minute, scratching his chin. "Well", he said thoughtfully, "it smells a lot like barbecued chicken."
