The troops are ready
Long live our God emperor!
Let the anthem play
By Nieske den Heijer
terror out of space
not alien invaders
but human troopers
By Aeronwy Dafies
Drop From Orbit
By DS Davidson
We ride the atmosphere
Down from orbit
Dropships filled with troops
Buffeted by the thickening air
And retro-rockets’ blast
That slam into the ground
We debark still dazed from impact
Firing wildly at anything
That isn’t a friendly
Return fire batters our armour
Nigh as thick as a tank’s
Artificial servo-muscles tighten
Providing speed and strength
Overwhelming the enemy
In terms of morale and militarily
We stride across the surface
Personifications of our God
Emperor of all space
Deities of adamantium
Lacking compassion and the capacity
To fail in our appointed task
Mal Galeef
By Harris Coverley
The poet said:
colonial troop
man and alien alike
assigned enemy —
fighting for Old Earth’s empire
that drive for cosmic conquest
The soldier replied:
my name is Galeef
first name Malko — Phobos-born
and on Deimos raised —
my true battles internal
I am much still my own man
The poet replied:
you are empire’s tool
imperial policeman —
a blood-soaked unit
whether blood is red or green
you still take your pay and drink
The solider replied:
yes this soldier drinks
and so would you if you’d seen
the things that I’ve seen —
don’t ramble proudly poet
no gun but I have my fists!
The poet replied:
that is all you have:
the threat of force against those
who stand in your way —
distilled into the one beast:
xenocidal human race
The solider replied:
I obey orders
for that is my sworn duty
I am a rough man —
I am so on your behalf —
something you don’t understand!
rough and ready men
visit violence on the dark
so you can sleep sound
On A Far and Distant World
By DJ Tyrer
In the lantern-light of bioluminescent cells
And the glow of a raging firmament,
A hero locks and loads his weapon,
Closing his polished-silver visor:
A fusillade of fragmentation shells
Clears his way of opposition;
H.E. blasts an entranceway.
Black armour like a beetle learnt to walk upright
Gives humanity’s saviour an alien anonymity.
Scuttling horrors of unearthly physiology appear
From all directions at once, overpowering
The hero, despite his rapid fire
And deadly, whirling blades:
Inhuman ichors mix with all-too-human blood
Creating unsettling swirls
With a soundtrack of pain.
Still twitching, not quite lifeless, dragged off
To provide a host in the birthing chamber…
Originally published in Handshake
It is almost time.
Who are we fighting today?
Never mind, let’s go!
By Nieske den Heijer
View From Atlantis 