With slack jaws and wide eyes, Demo, Streak and Nightshade sat on their respective bunks in a stunned stupor. What their commander had just offered them defied all logic.

Colonel Black bit hard on the squirming grub and frowned as he chewed. It was too sweet, he much preferred bitter bugs. He set the remainder of his meal back on his plate and scowled at the blabbering fool who sat across the desk from him.

Ziro was dead. Again. It was the second time this week and it was only Wednesday. The whole thing was starting to get on his nerves.

Evening’s last light clung desperately to the horizon, unwilling to surrender day’s final breath into the choking grip of night.  It was a colorful death. Red gave way to purple and finally to a deep indigo blue, framing the edges of the rugged terrain like an artist frames a masterpiece. Like clockwork, the ancient war between day and night continued on, but this battle belonged to the night.