A Season for Slaughter (War Against the Chtorr, Book 4) by David Gerrold

By David Gerrold

As tenacious extraterrestrial beings remodel the wartorn Earth right into a copy in their personal terrifying global, a handful of scientists, infantrymen, and voters prepares to struggle again.

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Sample text

And I kicked at one of the rocks with my flex-boot, grinning proudly at the little puff of dust I raised. On impulse, I laboriously scratched an H next to the rock. Instant immortality. At least until the next windstorm. On the far side of the canyon a shield volcano jutted up a good ten kilometers, the scarp at its base within easy reach of the ancient riverbed. We would take samples from the creekbed and scarp, record the terrain, and then… I grinned. We would do all of that but we would also gawk, scuff our boots in the dust, and take only half as many readings as we should.

An average surface temperature of 210 Kelvin… The Rover jolted to a stop at the bottom of the creekbed. I turned around, startled. Either the Rover had made better time than I thought or I had been too absorbed in gaping at the landscape. Once more my headset crackled. I cocked my head and tried again to make sense of the words but couldn’t. One member of the team hoisted himself out, took a few steps, stretched, then trudged back for his sample bag. The sunlight glinted off his visor, turning it into a golden mirror speckled with worn spots through which I could glimpse the vague outlines of a face.

My fellow patients went on about their business, as oblivious of me now as they had been before. I held the mask before my eyes and once again was alone with Pipit. I was seventeen years old, I thought bitterly, a youthful mariner on an ancient ship bound for God only knew where. Pipit winced at the expression on my face. "You’ve forgotten the compartment falsies," she said. Then she burst into tears. I was young and cried too easily, but this time tears were beyond me. Chapter 4 I spent two more time periods in sick bay, most of it undergoing tests by Abel, who apparently wanted to make sure that my broken bones were healed and I was fit for duty.

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