There was no hope of victory here, only death, why did they keep fighting?

General Tolvik tried to fathom the human psyche as he glared at the ruined amphitheater, miles under the surface which was covered in blood and gore. The fighting on Jackson's Moon shouldn't have lasted this long, it shouldn't have happened at all.

Once the space was cleared of any opposing fleet, the planets were supposed to surrender, it was the only safe option as orbital bombardments would safely and easily kill anyone on or near the surface. Terrorism, skirmishes and raids by those who refused to surrender were expected, but that was a minority and could be dealt with by a small army that focused on keeping a few key areas open for exploitation.

After the war things would be ironed out, deals made, and the citizens would be relatively peaceful or they would be rounded up and dealt with.

But Jackson's Moon wasn't most planets. It was an airless moon that had been mined for over a century. The tunnels were seemingly endless, and after their fleet had retreated, the millions of humans living on the planet fled deep underground. That would have been acceptable, while the moons resources would be nice, they weren't essential.

What wasn't acceptable was how the humans had repeatedly shot several tons of iron ore at near light speed towards the shipyard in the nearby asteroid belt. The improvised weapon had destroyed a corvette and badly damaged a battleship that had been under repairs. After an orbital bombardment resulted in only superficial damage to the moon, General Tolvik and his men were called in.

For half a revolution around the sun, they had been fighting and dying in the cramped tunnels of the moon. The humans were taking heavy loses, but his soldiers were taking more, as the humans used their mining experience and knowledge of the tunnels to run rings around them while using a prodigious amount of explosives.

Now looking at the amphitheater where thousands of bodies lay he wondered when the humans would realize they couldn't win. He had a steady stream of reinforcements, they didn't. This last offensive had to have killed many of their soldiers, the humans were being bled dry.

“General, we have a prisoner!”

Tolvik motioned for the human to be brought to him. The soldier half carried a bloody and dazed human up the small ramp.

He looked at the small figure, it was filthy and its hair had grown long and wild during the long war. Skinny as all humans were, now that they were rationing their food, but not gaunt. It had a pack half full of energy clips. What surprised him the most was the humans age.

“What were you doing here, child?” he asked in the humans language.

The child, who hadn't even reached puberty looked up at him, dazed and confused, but defiant. “Giving soldiers clips. So we can kill you,” it said, its words slurred making it hard to understand.

“Get this child to a medic, then to a camp hospital,” he ordered.

Watching the soldier carrying the child away, Tolvik shook his body in wonder. The humans cherished their children to a nearly insane degree, spoiling them to an unheard of level. Yet here they were sending them into a battle.

He looked over the amphitheater once more and wondered how many of the bodies belonged to children.

“There is no hope of victory here, only death,” he muttered.

No Victory Here