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           Sandanddirtfollowedthesmokeintotheair,andchunksofMimicfleshweren’tfarbehind.Werushedintothecraterandtookouteverythingthebombsleft.Root’emout,mow’emdown.

           Evenwhenyouwerejustrepeatingthesamedayoverandover,lifeonthebattlefieldwasanythingbutroutine.Iftheangleofyourswingwasoffbysomuchasadegree,itcouldsetoffachainofeventsthatwouldchangetheentireoutcomeofthebattle.AMimicyouletslipthroughoneminutewouldbemowingthroughyourfriendsthenext.Witheachsoldierthatdied,thelinegrewweaker,untiliteventuallycollapsedunderthestrain.Allbecauseyouraxeswungatforty-sevendegreesinsteadofforty-eight.

           ThereweremoreMimicsthanIcouldcount.DotsfilledtheDopplerscreen.TheruleofthumbwasthatittookasquadoftenJacketstobringdownoneMimic.Eventhen,tomakeitanevenmatchthesquadhadtobefannedouttospraythedamnthingwithbulletsuntilthereweren’tanybulletsleft.

           Ritawasinconstantmotion.Sheswungheraxewiththeeaseofachildswingingaplastictoysword.TheairwasthickwithMimicparts.Anotherstep,anotherswing,anotherlimb.Wash,rinse,repeat.

           I’dneverseenanythinglikeit.Javelinscarrieddeaththroughtheair.IwascloseenoughtoreachoutandtouchhalfadozenMimics.Inspiteofthedangerallaroundme,Ifeltanuncannycalm.Ihadsomeonetowatchmyback.Ritawasafilterthatdistilledandneutralizedthefear.