Our choice was simple: we could be cannon fodder, or we could
be...fodder. We could send our forces to fight and die (as only humans
can) against a ravening horde that was literally feeding on its
interstellar conquests--or remain as we were--virtually weaponless and
third in line for servicing.
Amazingly, thanks to a combination of raw valor and alien tech transfer,
in the first two campaigns Terrans fought the Posleen to a standstill.
The brief pause gave the survivors of the Barwhon and Diess
Expeditionary Forces a chance to get some distance from the blood and
misery of battle against the Posleen centaurs. With the Posleen invasion
only months away these shell-shocked survivors might be the only people
capable of saving the Earth from utter devastation.
If the veterans have time to lick their wounds. Because the Posleen
don't read schedules.
"...this novel should cement Ringo's reputation as one of the best new
practitioners of military SF." --(Publishers Weekly)