ORCS: Army of Shadows by Stan Nicholls

the Corps. Your sympathy could well be misplaced. The outcome
     of your mission is more important than mere individuals. You must use
all
means to achieve our objective. Is that understood?”
    “Yes, it is.” She mulled things over for a second and added, “There’s something I’ve been meaning to ask you. You gave me
     no orders about what would become of the warband once we’ve taken the instrumentalities from them.”
    “Assuming they survive their encounter with you and your superior weaponry.”
    “Yes, assuming that. Am I to return them to their home world?”
    If she didn’t know him better, Pelli would have thought the look Revers gave her was unduly hard. “You have no such orders,”
     he told her.
    Without further word he broke their connection.

5
    Like a chunk of ordure floating in the middle of a cesspit, the great fortress at Taress never failed to draw the eye.
    Its baleful walls and haughty towers subjugated the city as surely as the human invaders who had annexed it. Built long ago,
     by orcs when they were warlike, the pile had been turned from defensive to offensive by recent events. From a place of sanctuary
     to a place of dread. It stood as a perpetual reminder of the native population’s loss of independence and dignity.
    There was a great deal of bustle in its spacious central courtyard. A detachment of uniformed men, and some women, were square-bashing.
     Others were paired off in mock combat. Weapons were being issued, horses groomed, wagons loaded.
    From the balcony of his quarters high above, the stern figure of Kapple Hacher surveyed the activity. His aide and probably
     closest professional confidant, the young officer called Frynt, stood beside him.
    “Now we’re training clerks and medics to patrol the streets,” Hacher said.
    “I understand more reinforcements are due for despatch from Peczan soon, sir,” Frynt informed him.
    “I’m not sure there’ll ever be enough for Jennesta.”
    “Sir?”
    “Taress is to be entirely purged of subversive elements, to quote our mistress’s own words. How many troops do you think that
     would take?”
    “With respect, General, you’ve often said that the troublemakers are a minority.”
    “I still think that’s so. But it’s a question of definitions. Who
are
the dissidents?”
    “Isn’t it our job to weed them out, sir?”
    “Good question. But not one that unduly troubles m’lady Jennesta. Her view is that any orcs who arouse suspicion should be
     rounded up. And eliminated if they resist. In effect, they’re
all
revolutionaries to her. So we have this ever increasing clampdown.”
    “You can’t deny that incidents have increased of late, sir.”
    “Yes, they have. What do you expect when you prod a hornet’s nest? I believe the resistance, the actual core, is quite small,
     but I’ve never said they weren’t dangerous, and I’m all for coming down on them hard. But I can’t help but feel that Jennesta’s
     policy is only making matters worse.”
    “Perhaps this comet the orcs are so excited about is what’s really stirring them up, sir.”
    “And who’s putting the idea into their heads of linking it with omens and prophecies? No, we should be using a rapier here,
     not an axe.”
    “Regrettably, sir, your counsel is unlikely to sway the lady Jennesta.”
    “You’re telling me.” Hacher grew thoughtful. “Though there is one weapon in our armoury that could be useful in winkling out
     the real insurrectionists.”
    “Your… source,” Frynt said knowingly.
    The general nodded. “Although it isn’t entirely certain that I can keep that channel open, it might prove invaluable.”
    “But surely, sir, all this talk of rebellion is somewhat academic in light of the nature of the orcs we’re governing. The
     majority are passive.”
    “Jennesta doesn’t think so. She maintains the entire race is capable of something like savagery. Though what experience she
     might have had with them to reach such a