it started with a pitter patter inside our borders

Some said it was nothing

Command told us to ignore it, hope it goes away without incident

"its just the pipes acting up" "The neighbors are just being loud"

I knew better

Holes started appearing where none were before

the scent of death was hanging over sector 7, the basement as it has come to be known

We had fought the insectoids before without incident but this was something new

Something almost human

this new enemy was smart, adept at hit and run tactics

they would clear our food stores and leave their droppings without a sound

They would weaken our strong points to let more of their stlealthy breathren into the breach

An adversary without honor

When it was realized we were under attack we had thought to scare them

A weapon was aquired using new sonic frequencys designed to drive the menace away

It only made them bolder

Soon they were heard scurrying around every corner

night and day they did not relent

they knew of our plot and hatched one of their own

our men would be woken up only to find darkness greet them

search partys were formed yet all they saw were the droppings of the enemy

mocking us with their disregard for sanitation

They had gotten as far A9, our cooking area, when it was decided a new method was needed

Consulting the oracle, traps were devised

Snappers were a dime a dozen on the battlefield

A simple spring trap ready with bait would crush the monsters neck

those never had much success against the intelligent beasts

Next were the cloppers

round black prisons that would slide close when it detected one of the horde

It was thought that the creatures would go mad in there

all it did was make them angry

Finally it seemed our salvation would combine with our damnation

The inhumanly brutal sticky traps were placed with care in tactical locations around our perimeter

These things were nasty but highly effective

The poor souls that came upon them never had a chance

Thier bodys would twist themselves apart trying to be free from the infernal glue

The image of one of the corpses with its arms torn from its sockets still haunts me

Some of us saw it fit to free the things, let them go back to the wilds where they came from

For such intelligent beings they still had a weakness

Pride

they had stook claim to our home and stubborn pride would not allow them to quit

Peace would never be reached now, it was us or them

The point of no return has come and gone

As of the time of this writing a few of the mouze? mise? have gotten wise and started avoiding the traps we lay

We have called for feline reinforcments, as stalthy as the rodents but twice as ferocious

I hope they arrive soon, i hear the pitter patter growing closer

War is Hell