In Flanders fields

Communication is the key!

"RETR'R FI'COMCEN! RET'R FI'COMCEN!"

Retreat? Why would we retreat to the command center? That makes no sense! Never before had we had to retreat, and especially now, we have been planning this opperation for months at least! No, the truly concerning thing was that the message was echoes by the opposing forces communicator. For what possible reason would both camps need us to retreat? this makes no sense...

"Ace! n'va fi'comcen!" (Ace! we are going to the command center!) yelled out Wolf, my captain. "Ima!" (now!)

In my confusion, I had forgotten that Cap was an ass kisser asshole. Don't get me wrong, Cap is a good guy and a good soldier, but he was military before the war, so to us who were roped in with minimal training, it just looks like ass kissing. What? Don't judge, we are all rebellious teens inside.

I roll my eyes, nod the the enemy soldier in the same dilemma as I - his name is Jace, we like butting heads when we have to fight - and jog to my team. Jace and I go way back. No way to know someone quite like intrepidly trying to kill each other.

Now, back to the matter at hand.

This is ridiculous, why would command center want us to retreat? We had barely begun the attack, we had no information, no prisoners, nor any materials or equipment to warrant such an action.  So why? Did the commanders finally loose the rest of their marbles? No, we are all crazy here...

A couple glances to my teammates gives me all the information I need. None of us knows why we are going back to command. Guess it'll be a surprise then.

~~~~~~~~whooo~~~~~~

"Sir, you called for me."

"Yes, I did. Take a seat." Pause. "I am sure you know of the situation with Earth, after the passage of "the Fall of Eden"?"

"Yes, Sir, communications were cut, all entry and exit became impossible."

"Very much so. Of course I am sure you know that all our scientists have been trying to explain and reverse this phenomena. While we have not yet been able to fully reverse it, we have been able to create... a breach, one would say, enough for communications and a ship." Pause. "We want you to go to Earth."

--------breakline-------

Three days, two planes, more hours in a jeep than I care to admit and not enough hours jogging later, and we finally cross the gates of command center. 

Immediately, people start whispering and pointing. I honestly can't say I blame them, it is rare to see such a large concentration of sexy nowadays. 

Nah, just kidding, they are probably exited to see us, we don't go to command often and have kind of a... reputation among the people of Earth. Still sexy though, black is definitely our color.

We keep our poker faces, hiding the fact we are all curious as hell, cranky, tired, and most important of all, our butts hurt like the devil himself started creating Hell in there. Don't judge, again, my ass bones are sharp as my knife and are the banes of my ass nerves and blood vessels. Hey, we may be able sustain cuts and  bullet wounds and torture easily, but it doesn't mean we like it.

So, we walk the cool walk up to the higher ups, ready to set such chaos in there they'll think we had tethered and trained a fucking thunderstorm.

So, let me tell you about my team. We are basically a strike force: small team, all jacks-of-all-trades, but with a preference for one certain thing, like medic or trackers. You know about my Cap, Wolf, an ass kisser, but all seven of us are the type to show our opinions in a chaos of sparks, even Cap: he'll obey, but give you Hell about it. Other than that we have a medic, Lab, a communications officer, Krypto, a weapons specialist, Rott, an engineer, Titus, and a tracker, Shep. I'm the information specialist, Ace. No, these are not our real names, and yes, they are all related to dogs, our team was name Mad Dogs for a reason I can not fathom, so might as well use make the full of it.

Our uniforms are jet black with minimal armor (if they shoot at us with big guns we'll die, armor or not, and we need to move easily), dog tags around our neck, hair tied or slicked back, and as all those on Earth, skin pale. I's hard to be tanned and sunburnt when there is no sun, just huge bolts of electricity coursing through the sky. 

Oh, now that I have the time, I'll explain the messed up language, like "retr'r" and "n'va fi'comcen". Wars are hard to fight, especially when no one understands each other. Now, we would make English our lengua franca but, them the enemy would understand us too and some people would have to learn a completely different language from their own and other no, ant that is not fair no is it. So we basically made a language up from a lot of languages. Never said we were smart.

So, after stalking the corridors in grace and beauty to the command center, where the higher ups work and are all the time, Wolf politely knocked on the closed door. With his foot. And a shit ton of force. Okay, he basically kicked it in, the door clearing a path halfway though the room, hopefully not killing someone (we do not need the paperwork, our asses hurt enough thank you very much). 

Our glorious scowling faces must have already sent the message, but Cap decided to be civil and let out a "Che?" (Why) so full of rage and killing intent I am sure the people on Mars got chills down their spines. That, assholes ans suckers, is why I love my Cap. 

The higher ups started shaking, some were on the verge of tears, but that did not stop us, just made us darkly chuckle. Marshall, the one who usually handles us, came to the front of the crowd, and, unfazed by our animalistic tendencies, started to explain.

"Jb'trjor, n'rectrnle. Gr'Mars. Co, n'sb bu, pr v'dofjle." (Three days ago, we received a message. From Mars. We do not know how, but they did it).

Well, crapadoodle-doo. 

"Sma f'estrn?" (What is the message?) came from Krypto.

"V'podobrk fi'ci, et v'trmle. War f'es trm" (They are able to make a breach in the sky, and they ended it. The war is over"

"Sma?"(What?) The War is over? How? Since when? Does anybody know?

"V'kulasa fi'Earth ps'n'vasa fi'Mars." (They are coming to Earth now, so we can go to Mars)

"V'sb? Otr gr'Terre?" (Do they know? The others on Earth?) I ask.

"Ima bu. Jb'ash" (Not yet. Tomorrow)

Now, it is not often that we are silenced of the sort, but in the course of less than five minutes  we learned that the eleven-year-war is over, and we will go to Mars. To use the slang a guy taught me a long time ago, we were shook. 

Que sera, sera, it seems us killers are a bit out of our depth right now. 

"Itu v'kusa?" (when will they come?) asks Lab.

"Jb'ash" (tomorrow). Well fuck.

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 Guys! Author here! 

So tell me if you like it or if you hate it or whatever! If you have constructive criticism, I am all ears and eyes! If not, well I like reading comments, so go for it! If you have ideas, please do not be shy!

By the way, that language was totally made by me, but does have rules and origins from different languages, you can try to guess them, I'll tell if your right or not!

Have fun!