A century ago, the Galactic Empire's Air Force had a standard fighter craft called the Vulture. The Vulture was equipped with a high-speed environmental identification weapon system, capable of supersonic cruising at altitudes between fifty meters and one kilometer. It carried sixty high-explosive bombs totaling six hundred kilograms and eighteen thousand rounds of cannon ammunition. At full firepower, it could level thousands of acres of conventional cities in a single sortie, leaving behind a sea of fire where even rocks were pulverized.
Each Vulture was piloted by a single person, but they often deployed in squadrons of ten. These Vulture squadrons were the most common units for occupying alien planets at the time. Four hundred and eighty million units were produced annually, filling the warehouses of forces across various star systems, much like you would see thousands of identical cars in a large port.
The alien races attacked at that time possessed a certain level of technological advancement. They could not defeat the Galactic Empire's fleet in space, so they established anti-air strike systems on the ground of their home planets. Take, for instance, the famous Yongnian Star. Its size was comparable to Earth, with barren, mountainous deserts being the most common terrain. The native aliens had constructed a total of 1.64 billion electromagnetic artillery platforms, hidden underground, with their muzzles pointed skyward. Normally, they were covered with earth-yellow camouflage cloths. As soon as the Vultures appeared, the cloths were removed, and they fired relentlessly. The shells could reach speeds of 3,000 meters per second, with a firing rate of ten rounds per second. These hidden platforms often gathered in groups, unleashing a destructive anti-air barrage that obliterated everything, with fire snakes soaring into the sky and the sound like thunder.
Under such intense and dense fire nets, the Vulture fighter craft suffered an annual loss rate of 120 million units. Hit Vultures often exploded in mid-air, their pilots turning into a rain of blood, then being vaporized by the flames, dissipating like flying ash amidst the earth-shattering roar of artillery. In other words, one out of every four pilots flying Vultures into battle would perish.
Remote control cockpits existed at the time, but the technology was immature and the cost was high. The compensation for a deceased pilot was twelve million, while installing a remote control system on a Vulture cost thirty million, with no guarantee of performance. Therefore, the military opted for sending real pilots into battle. Firstly, it saved money; secondly, it alleviated overpopulation; and thirdly, it accelerated the pace of expansion. Manufacturing remote control cockpits required time, whereas recruiting young, spirited men and giving them brief training before stuffing them into Vultures was much more time-efficient.
The soldiers of that era understood and supported the military's decision. They said that if their ancestors fought and died in such numbers, why should they, as cosmic beings, fear death? Some also said that trading lives for time was a last resort, a necessary bloodshed. If they could not achieve a series of victories in interstellar warfare immediately, humanity would completely lose its foothold in the galaxy, a consequence that humanity could not bear.
An orphan, at the age of seventeen, lied about his age, enlisted in the army, and went to the battlefield to pilot Vultures.
In his first battle, his assigned squadron was hit by enemy fire, and he was the sole survivor. As a raw recruit, he was promoted to captain the very next day, simply because all his teammates had died. For the next five years, he lost count of how many times he charged into the dazzling artillery fire, leading his team in relentless assaults. Many newly met comrades died, as did some old companions with whom he had fought for a long time. He also sustained severe injuries but miraculously survived. On Tomb-Sweeping Day, he wore medals pinned to his chest and visited the martyrs' cemetery. Looking at the urns of his old companions and new recruits, he would always sigh, thinking that even the ashes of a small tree held more substance than the ashes of these men.
On one campaign to conquer a new planet, his fighter was hit but did not explode; instead, it crashed.
The native aliens captured him. Instead of executing him, they provided him with food and medicine and even dug a cave for him to live in.
This surprised him greatly. These aliens were not like the low-level races with savage and man-eating tendencies that the military propaganda portrayed. Instead, they were simple and kind. He personally witnessed the aliens fighting together, holding gatherings for romantic dates, and weeping over their fallen kin. Some alien children even gave him small flowers from their homeland, their tender green stems reminiscent of spring. Apart from their appearance, these alien beings were almost identical to humans.
Human prisoners of war were sent to live with him one after another. He developed feelings for a girl among the POWs. They secretly experienced many beautiful things: their first embrace from the opposite sex, their first kiss, their first intimate encounter, and true love. They promised to marry if they settled down.
The POW life surprisingly lasted for over two years. Finally, one day, an alien native officer approached him and gave him a device. That device could communicate with human warships in orbit.
There had been no fighting for many days, and both sides were in a ceasefire. The alien natives wanted to take the opportunity to return the human captives, as maintaining a group of prisoners was also a drain on resources. The human side naturally agreed.
They arranged a time and place and agreed not to engage in combat during the prisoner exchange.
On the day of the prisoner exchange, he waited, holding his girlfriend's hand. Their palms were slick with sweat. They trembled with anticipation and happiness, looking up at the sky an hour in advance. But what arrived were not ships, but carpet bombing.
Tens of thousands of high-explosive incendiary bombs rained down from the clouds. Streams of fire erupted everywhere, their flashes like the sun breaking through the earth. Nearby alien positions were completely destroyed, and several regiments of alien soldiers were reduced to charcoal, their dismembered bodies flying through the air. All the prisoners were stunned. The human military had broken its promise and launched a shameless aerial bombardment.
Yet, even so, the human prisoners were still crammed into the lowest level bunkers by the alien soldiers, thus surviving the overwhelming bombardment. After the bombing, human troops landed and began firing indiscriminately, killing all remaining alien soldiers and rescuing the prisoners from the depths of the bunkers.
He stepped through the bloodstained ground from the lowest level of the bunker, seeing corpses of alien natives scattered everywhere. These aliens had protected and nurtured him for the past two years. Their kindness in not killing him was immense, let alone the grace of nurturing him for over seven hundred days. At that moment, he suddenly understood the role he was playing: a despicable invader, a faithless murderer! The soldiers who launched the bombing were of the same kind as him. In his five years of military service, he had countless times coldly pressed the trigger, turning fleeing aliens into masses of blood plasma.
He yelled at the rescue team officer, asking why they had done such a treacherous deed, why they had shown no mercy. The officer retorted dismissively, "You were raised by aliens for two years and forgot your mother? Do you really think aliens would be nice to you for no reason? They were merely seeking peace or using you as bargaining chips! War is a fight to the death, and all's fair in war. How can someone with countless merits be so naive? Think of your fallen comrades! They were shot down by these disgusting alien creatures!"
He countered, "It's not like that. These alien races have civilization; they have more morality than us!" The officer replied, "Then it's truly a pity. Such civilized and moral alien beings are almost extinct. Let us mourn them."