Short fiction: the last election

The last election

 There used to be rules in war. But that was then and this is now. The old no longer march to share the memory of their sacrifices, not since the soldier got replaced by the machines and the elected class did away with elections. When its about survival, rules are meaningless.
 I watched the drones dragging their deadly cargo across the sky, the human collateral huddled in their shanty towns breathing in the rhizome perfume that would grow in the lungs of every man, woman and child until it exploded out of every orifice and dug its roots into the earth. The shanty towns were nests for the next generation of terrorists. Thats what they said. Too dangerous to send soldiers. Couldnt even send robotic ground forces in case some overly smart terrorist hacked one and used it against us. So they sent the 'musk'. Of course the 'musk' didnt kill descent folks. All they had to do was surrender to get the vaccine. Problem was they were no longer surrendering.
 Thousands of Villages were becoming the seed beds for rhizome forests. One village said no, and suddenly it was a brushfire of self sacrifice. They were choosing death.
 Thats why I came: To watch them die that I might share the memory of their sacrifice. They were voting no with their lives.