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Face of the Enemy — Richard Fawkes
THE PLEASURE OF THE KILL
They strike without warning out of the interstellar depths, their only communication a burst of static--and then death. They are called the Remor, and they kill for the pure joy of killing.
The brave fighting men and women of the Interstellar Defense League eagerly take up the call to arms against the Remor and their grinders--monstrous war machines that leave a trail of death and desolation in their wake. But to win, the League warriors must get inside the machines--and the mind of their foe. Who--or what--is this mysterious enemy? Where do they come from? And why are they determined to destroy humankind?
Mere courage won't uncover the Remor's secrets. Something else is needed. Something that can only be found in the untamed spirit of a renegade who long ago "went native" with the most primitive species in the known universe... .
They strike without warning out of the interstellar depths, their only communication a burst of static--and then death. They are called the Remor, and they kill for the pure joy of killing.
The brave fighting men and women of the Interstellar Defense League eagerly take up the call to arms against the Remor and their grinders--monstrous war machines that leave a trail of death and desolation in their wake. But to win, the League warriors must get inside the machines--and the mind of their foe. Who--or what--is this mysterious enemy? Where do they come from? And why are they determined to destroy humankind?
Mere courage won't uncover the Remor's secrets. Something else is needed. Something that can only be found in the untamed spirit of a renegade who long ago "went native" with the most primitive species in the known universe... .
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