“On our [2 o’clock], their lines are fluctuating!” Gicerpt shouted excitedly, nearly losing his grip on the tank’s targeting scope. Baltvec grinned, a feral growl of excitement escaping his lips.
“Finally! What’s caused it? Is there any way we can exacerbate the situation aside from just charging in there and shooting everything to hell?”
“I think it’s those rovers again. Which squad do you think they’re from?”
“It doesn’t matter,” Blatvec cut in, “How are they still alive and what’s their current situation?”
“Honestly, I don’t know if they are still alive. There’s too many vehicles and Vulza – wait – the Vulza, they’re attacking the Celzi vehicles! They’re attacking their own team! Ha! I knew they didn’t have a firm control over those beasts; no one can control something that powerful. Now the only question is what set them off?”
“Does it really affect us right now?” shrugged Blatvec, “We can worry about how to get them to defect later. Right now we’re going to use the weakened lines on the edge of that skirmish to punch through and hopefully end this battle by outflanking them.” Relaying his orders to his sub-commanders, the Dominion horde, now containing more than 30 squads of repurposed Celzi vehicles, moved as one towards the outskirts of the swirling maelstrom where the lines were weakened due to the units called to assist with the Vulza uprising.
As Baltvec’s squad led the charge, coilguns blazing, he felt pity for any Dominion forces caught within the storm of metal and scales. Nothing could survive such bedlam unscathed.
Dear Journal,
Remember that whole military genius thing?
Yeah, more like prodigy,
Not that I’m going to go around bragging about it (I totally am).
What had started out as a friendly tussle between blood enemies had become a full-fledged war in and of itself, with an entirely new set of rules than the battle raging around it. Those I had previously thought were enemies were now fighting with my squad, or rather, for my squad. Their hover-hummers had been shredded, flipped, and pummeled from every side. I was surprised they were still large enough for my friends to use as cover.
Crouching beneath the remnants of their rides, my squad fired at any dragon that got too close. They seemed to have accepted the enemy’s assistance, and thankfully refrained from informing our new friends of our true allegiance by not attacking them. I still couldn’t believe that the enemy still thought we were on the same team – what else could be keeping them from attacking us – but I wasn’t going to complain.
I on the other hand, had no hover-hummer wreckage to hide under, not that I would have been content to do so if I had. My friends were basically helpless without the death ray cannons of their hummers, and I wasn’t about to let a stray dragon pick them off. Circling the smoking vehicles, I attacked any drake that got too close, and there were many. I was becoming genuinely exhausted, helped in no way by the ridiculously thin air, and my jumps were a mere fraction of their original length, my reflexes slow.
I was fortunate the dragons seemed to be faring even worse than I. They probably needed more air, so it made sense, but it was the only reason I was able to keep fighting so many when I had before so often struggled to kill only one. Now I waded through their attacks, dodging their drunken attempts to stop me with my lagging, yet still greater, strength. I wouldn’t be able to keep it up forever though. My squad’s vehicles, though in the same general area, were still too far apart for me to guard completely at the same time. Our fight seemed to be drawing every dragon from the battlefield, and despite the monumental effort on part of our new frienemies, the drake count continued to increase.
My fears were realized when two dragons attacked from either side, one going for Manthlel’s rover and the other attacking Rekt’s, one of the squad’s heavies. I was closer to Rekt, so sprinted – more like jogged at this point – to intercept his reptile. So intent was it upon its prey it failed to notice me until I stabbed it through the wing and in the side. That got its attention, and it bucked, throwing me with its wing, roaring with pain. I jumped back up, renewing my attack. Infuriated, it leapt at me, which meant the fight was over.
Dodging to the side in the now familiar maneuver I racked its neck and chest with my lava scimitars, cutting its windpipe and damaging its cardiac area. I wasn’t exactly sure where the heart was, but I assumed if I hacked around the general area where I assumed it to be I would achieve the same effect. Despite my quick disposal of the beast, I’d been too slow. The other dragon had reached Manthlel’s downed hummer, and I could already here shouts of alarm and panic through the monsters roars.
“NO!”
I had worked too hard, protected them for too long, to fail now! Raising my ragged, smoke-torn voice, I bellowed in rage and denial as I pulled upon my final reserves of strength, sprint-jumping towards the unfolding carnage.
Refusing to think on what I would find, I jumped over the flipped hummer, bringing the dragon’s back into view. I took advantage of my position to land on top of it, driving my blades as far into its back as I could, hoping one of my friends was still alive. It didn’t even react. The drake didn’t even move despite my burning weapons sticking out of its hide.
+What the –+
It was already dead. Shocked by this unexpected turn of events I slid down its back and into the do-it-yourself bunker underneath the hover craft. It was easy to scramble into since the dragon’s head was shoved into it, propping the hover-hummer with a foreleg, where it would have been able to bite and grind my squad mates into dust.
The inside of the fox-hole was a mess. Two squad mates lay on the ground, bleeding from wounds that had been instantly fatal, and a third lay unconscious against a wall, bleeding from the stumps of what had been two of his legs. Manthlel, however, was the focus of my attention. Orange skin the pale shade of Tang powder, he stood trembling, his arm attached by a thread, the other end clamped within the dragons mouth which was mere centimeters from his face. It had died in that position, but I still couldn’t tell you how or why. Then I saw it’s glazed, open eyes.
Every blood vessel within its slit irises appeared to have burst simultaneously, flooding its green eyes with blood as deep a red as mine. I looked at Manthlel in askance. Still shaking, he held up the pin to one of those grenades that were so effective against me. It took me a moment to comprehend what he was trying to say. When the light-bulb flickered to life my eyes went wide, and I immediately pried the beast’s jaws apart. There, cradled upon its tongue as its final trophy was Manthlel’s disembodied arm, its hand still clutching the brain-frying grenade that had ended the creature’s life.
I stared at Manthlel again. Raising his three remaining arms, he gave me a shaky thumbs-up.
Manthlel was trembling, but he didn’t care if anyone saw it. If anyone had asked he would have told them the truth in an instant: he was scared shittless. The only difference now was that he wasn’t even considering running away. Even if he had wanted to, he wouldn’t have been able to make it far in the confused disarray outside the cover he and the other squad mates had dug underneath their overturned rover.
They weren’t really doing anything from their position. The only weapons that were having any affect in this battle were coilguns or turrets, and without their rover, the only thing his group had now were anti-tank and heavy pulse guns, a few pistols, and one nervejam grenade each. With such paltry weaponry they wouldn’t be able to do a thing if anyone decided to attack them. Thankfully, Human did have a say in the matter, and he had Fusion Scythes, which were far more effective in his hands than any coilgun.
Manthlel had never seen him fight like in the way he did now. A blur across the battlefield, he shot from Vulza to Vulza, slaying each and every one that approached their impromptu entrenchment. Manthlel had seen him move fast before, but he seemed to be drawing upon an inner power source he had never before used. He was killing Vulza as though they were just as weak as any other being. The exertion was obviously taking its toll on him, however, and Manthlel could tell he was getting tired as his movements began to slow. Despite his growing fatigue, he still managed to stop every Vulza which threatened their position.
That was why Manthlel wasn’t worried when one started charging their position. At any moment Human would come charging in, slicing the monster’s head off with a single swipe or snap its neck with is bare hands. He had never actually see Human do that before, but Manthlel didn’t doubt he could.
When it had closed half the distance unimpeded Manthlel started to feel the first flutters of panic within his gut. Judging by the nervous shuffling of his companions by his side, they were as well. When it had closed two thirds of the distance and Human still had yet to make an appearance the group of four opened fire against the approaching beast, hoping to slow it while Human took his sweet time. An anti-tank pulse hit it square in the nose – which only served to enrage it – causing it to double its speed and traverse the remaining distance in two enormous leaps.
It was upon them before they could react. Lifting the rover off the hole the Vulza shoved its head into their improvised cover, instantly transforming their place of refuge into a deathtrap. One of their numbers died instantly, his upper body parting ways from the lower. Manthlel couldn’t understand.
+Where is Human? Why has he suddenly abandoned us?+
Panic threatened to overwhelm him completely as another squadmate met a similar fate as the first.
+I’m going to die I’m going to die I’m going to die . . . +
The same voice of paralyzing terror that had resounded within his head the same day he ran from the Vulza that massacred his first squad pounded once again within his mind until it echoed in his ears as well, his voice giving flesh to the most basic of instincts: self-preservation.
A roar shattered the air around him, but it wasn’t from the Vulza. It was an echo from the past, the brother of the challenge Human had thrown that first battle. It wasn’t the same, however. This was no herald of extinction. This was a scream of loss. A cry of failure and pain, but even more than that, it was the rejection of defeat, a disavowal of failure. It pulsed with an oath of vengeance and a pledge of retribution. It drove away the shackles of fear that had rooted his feet to the ground and replaced his trembling with the stiffened limbs of rebellion. As before, Manthlel found himself repeating Human’s shout, but for a different reason. He would not let this be his end, he would not die without a struggle. He would have his revenge upon this beast, not only for the lives of those it and its kind had already taken from him, but for making him forget that he was more than just its frightened prey.
He would be its downfall.
It struck again. Whether by some preternatural insight or because he had tripped a few moments before it struck, Manthlel’s only other living squad mate managed to keep anything vital out of the beast’s mouth. It was still quick though, and managed to catch several of the unfortunate soldier’s legs, reducing them to stumps. Distracted with its newest victim, it didn’t notice as Manthlel yanked the nervejam grenade off his belt and pulled the pin. It did notice him when he shot it in the head with his anti-tank gun. Blinded by the light, it roared in anger, changing targets with a speed that defied plausibility. Manthlel was ready though, and as it stuck, he stepped towards it, shoving this hand deep within its gullet.
Seemingly surprised to find such willing prey, the beast closed its jaws around his arm, removing it with the snick of teeth slicing through flesh. Manthlel’s bellow turned into a roar of pain. The grenade detonated. The Vulza’s skull acted like a resonance chamber, rebounding, containing, and increasing the deadly emission from the grenade. Every vessel, neuron, and membrane within the monster’s head exploded. Only because of its bones and scaled hide did its head itself not explode. It died with the same expression of victory upon its face.
A sound came from outside. Human had finally showed up. There was a moment of silence, then the biped slipped into the hole, pausing to take in the mess. He looked at the dead beast, did a double-take, then looked at Manthlel with a question in his eyes. Wordlessly, Manthlel held up the pin still clutched in his hand. It wasn’t until he saw the little ring and rod rattling up and down that he realized he was shaking uncontrollably.
Human seemed confused for a moment, until he pried the creature’s jaws open. Seeing his arm and the grenade still within its mouth, Human looked at Manthlel, for the first time in his memory, a look of shocked incredulity upon his features. Manthlel didn’t know what to say, so he just flashed that strange hand gesture, hoping it would suffice. Human took one look at it, then burst into a barking hiccup which Manthlel realized moments later was raucous laughter.
It had worked. Blatvec couldn’t believe it. The 74th, finding strength in the abandonment of the code, had demonstrated once again why they were considered an elite force. The Celzi forces had been routed, and the cyclone of traitorous Vulza and Celzi which had allowed such a feat had finally run its course, leaving only severely damaged Celzi and crippled Vulza in its wake.
The battle wasn’t over though. Even though the Celzi line had been destroyed, the sensor outpost which was the purpose for this fight still required attention. The only problem was its defenses. While the 74th may have managed to vanquish the mobile guarding force, the Celzi had controlled this station since the beginning of the war, giving them ample time to make its defenses nigh impregnable.
Artillery pulse turrets, coilguns, even a few plasma cannons dotted the landscape surrounding the compound. As large as their force was, too many from the 74th had died before they could commandeer a vehicle of their own. Blatvec doubted his forces would be able to punch through the Celzi defenses and survive with a force large enough to combat the token guarding squadron inside the station.
The battle plan he had been briefed on had told him orbital forces would destroy the compound’s defenses from a safe distance, making it so that all Blatvec had to do was stroll in and claim a victory. He had been told that, while the fighting on the ground would be difficult, the fighting above the planet would be a walk in the park, with friendly forces outnumbering hostiles four to one. The battle on the ground had taken even longer than expected. Admiral Licik, the commander of the armada that had acted as escort to the 74th, should have long ago finished his work above.
+What’s keeping him+ mused Blatvec. They couldn’t afford to wait long. Every moment they waited gave the Celzi more time to regroup and mount a counteroffensive. They were scattered for now, but if they managed to reformed they would pose a significant threat.
+I’ll give him two rics (one hour), then we’ll have no choice but to charge and hope for the best.+
I take back that whole military prodigy part.
These Xenos are just military idiots.
Manthlel had fainted while I was still laughing at the thumbs up he had given me. Really, it wasn’t all that funny. The absurdity of the situation had just struck me at an odd moment and I couldn’t help it. I guess all the blood loss did a spell on him, and I ended carrying him and the other guy who was missing his legs out of the hole for the squad medic to take a look at. Leaving Manthlel and Kecce – that was the other guy’s name – in Hectal’s capable medical hands, I sought out Turkey.
Trxcl was still in shock. He stood, transfixed, outside of the hastily excavated hole he and his other squad mates had created underneath their overturned rover.
+I’m still alive, right? Things got a little crazy at the end there. Maybe I got hit, but didn’t die right away, and the blood-loss has me hallucinating. Maybe I’ll be dead soon and this will all be over+ Then human walked around the side of the disabled rover. Trxcl groaned. It wasn’t over. If it was, and Human was in his hallucinations, then he hoped he would die quickly. But if it wasn’t a hallucination, then that meant it really was possible for a species like Human to exist, although after seeing him fight today, Trxcl would have sworn it to be a fever dream or the result of a soldier’s story gone too far, if such a thing were possible.
Human began to move his hands.
<What’s next?>
+Not what I want, unfortunately+ Thought Trxcl, but his hands flashed the orders he himself had only just received, <Nothing. We wait.>
<Why?> Shit. This would be hard. Human hadn’t been able to be briefed on the existence of the sensor station. They didn’t have a word for it, so how could they? Really, his only task had been to fight, and he’d gone well above and beyond the call of duty on that one. Trxcl decided to use the words available to him rather than try to teach Human new gestures.
<The enemies ahead are too strong. We are waiting for an orbital strike to weaken them. It is taking longer than expected.> At least, that’s what Trcxl hoped he had said. Really, their language was just a conglomeration of nouns and verbs and a few vital adjectives that they arranged in chronological order, with the verb coming after the noun. Trxcl didn’t know why such a strange sentence structure was used, but he guessed it made sense to Human. It seemed he had understood, because his next response made contextual sense.
<We can’t use the tanks?> Human gesticulated.
<We could, but with many casualties.>
<Why not use the drop ships?> Trxcl was surprised by the question. Such a thought hadn’t occurred to him at all, yet he wasn’t a strategist. After he thought about it for a moment though, he could see why the plan was flawed.
<The drop ships themselves *would* survive the charge, but when we got out of them we’d be torn apart.> Still, it was an interesting concept.
+Maybe if we used the vehicular drop ships from the 13th and 32nd to drop the tanks behind enemy lines?+
No, that wouldn’t work either. The vehicular drop ships were basically just a cockpit connected to a pair of clamps in the back. The clamps would lock onto the outside of the vehicle in question and then carry it, crew inside, to the necessary location. That meant, aside from a structural force field to protect the vehicle form the vacuum of space, its outer hull was exposed to energy based attacks, and the power from a plasma or coil shot would easily overwhelm the force field. Even if the stations defenses would have difficulties damaging the heavily plated hulls of the drop ships, they would still be able to shoot the vehicles right out from under their charges, resulting in an airborne massacre.
Trxcl had allowed his mind to wander. A whirlwind of action erupted directly in front of him, and he jumped back in surprise, startled as human almost hit him in the face trying to regain his attention.
An exasperated look upon his face, Human signed <That’s not what I meant. Why don’t we use the drop ships, not as drop ships, but as weapons.>
Confused, Trxcl guessed at Human’s meaning, <The drop ship turrets aren’t effective again->
With an abrupt motion of his arm Human cut him off, then started gesturing with short, frustrated signs, <Not the turrets, the drop ships themselves.>
Trxcl must have misunderstood. What his mind had translated hadn’t made any sense. The drop ships only had the one turret. How else could they be used offensively? <I’m sorry, I don’t understand.> Human gave him a flat stare, grabbed his hand, then, with a force Trxcl was scared would tear his arm off, started dragging him towards the nearest operational tank.
Really, why was this so difficult for Turkey to understand? Sure, he wasn’t the sharpest knife in the cutlery drawer, more like a spoon. Our gesture language was comprehensive to the point that I had assumed conveying my point would be elementary. Really, was my idea that unconventional that no one had thought of it before? Never mind Turkey, someone had to. Now that I thought about it, I couldn’t remember any indirect artillery fire during the battle. In fact, the tactics I had seen throughout the battle were essentially the same as seen in feudal Europe, just with ray guns. And tanks. And dragons. Yeah, just like feudal Europe.
Were the professional militaries of the galaxy really centuries behind the tactics of humanity? I’m not one for thinking about implications – in case you hadn’t noticed – so I decided to reign my thoughts back to the matter at hand. Maybe my idea was somewhat unconventional. After all, I was proposing we use a spaceship as a glorified guided missile. It had an autopilot, and I had even seen it used enough times over the last 6 months that I was confident I would be able to do what I had in mind without assistance. As far as being wasteful, I had seen the troopship use a massive alien 3D printer to spit a drop ship out every hour. They would be able to make up the loss. I had a feeling our division had lost a lot of men in the battle, so they wouldn’t need their drop ships to return to the troopships. Heartless, but practical.
It would have taken far too long to traverse the length of the battlefield on foot, so I dragged Turkey behind me as I walked to the nearest operational tank. Ignoring the soldier relaxing on its top, I jumped up the hatch motioning for Turkey to follow. As the soldier looked on in curiosity, Turkey, a familiar look of confusion upon his blue-giraffe face – really, I don’t think I’ve ever seen a blue-giraffe without that look – climbed into the tank after me. The inside was a mass of buttons and consoles I had no idea how to use, but the navigational array looked nearly identical to that of the drop ship’s. In fact, I think it was more simplistic, as it wasn’t equipped to move in three dimensions.
Thankfully it was already on and idling. Too bad turning one on wasn’t as simple as pushing a button. I think a lever was involved in there somewhere. Keying up the power – a touch-slide on a console is so much less satisfying than flooring a petal – the tank lurched into action. I may have overestimated the force of acceleration, because the shout of surprise from the top of tank seemed to fade in the distance after the initial lurch. That and I had difficulty maneuvering my sweet ride through the maze of rumbling vehicles despite my many years of navigating Chicago traffic. Actually, Chicago’s usually backed up, so those years were probably counterproductive.
Still, I had made my decision, and I wasn’t slowing down. Handling the tank like a 16-year-old male driving through the red-light district, Turkey was thrown about the cabin. Thankfully it seemed to have been built with the fragility of aliens in mind, and instead of the cramped labyrinth of sharp metal corners that are the cabins of modern tanks, it was far more spacious with padding over every surface. He’d be fine. Not only was my mad rush across the battlefield extremely satisfying to the testosterone driven beast within me, we made it back to the drop ships in record time.
Cursing the fact that the tank floated above the ground, making it impossible for me to skid to a stop in a shower of dirt and gravel, I slid the iPhone accelerator back to idle with a feeling of disgust. Aliens had no respect for the simple pleasures in life. Hopping out, I moved to the nearest drop ship, urging Turkey to speed up. By the time he joined me in the cockpit I was impacitantly tapping my foot as I stood by the navigation consol. Gesturing to an orbital rendering of a 20 kilometers radius around the drop ship, I moved my hands.
<Where is the enemy holding?>
Looking even more confused, Turkey pointed to a general area about 18 kilometers from where we stood on the map. I quickly started hitting buttons, racing to finish before he realized what I was doing. It took him a moment, but when I moved my hand to the red-button-of-engaging, he started spitting-clicking in his alarm at what I had done. Trying to undo all my hard work he struggled to cancel my commands, but I stopped him, dragging him from the console. I wouldn’t want him to miss seeing my idea in action. Depositing him outside the drop ships bay doors; I walked back to the console and hit the red button. I didn’t need a translator to know Turkey was enraged as I jumped from the slowly closing shuttle bay door to land by his side.
Trxcl hadn’t wanted to go with Human on his adventure of miscommunication. He had had one great idea, but that didn’t mean he would be able to think up another miracle strategy to make an orbital strike appear out of thin air. There was little he could have done, however, as human had all but forced him into a tank, driving with such reckless abandon Trcxl thought he may have survived the battle only to die at the hands of his squad’s most valiant hero. He hoped that 74th man was okay after being thrown from the roof of his charge. Trcxl felt bad for having told the soldier not to bother himself and that they were only going for a look. He had sincerely though it to be the truth when he had said it.
Now he stood, watching helplessly as the drop ship, doomed by Human’s commands, flew into the air on the last trip it would ever make. He knew he shouldn’t have been surprised that Human even knew how to enter the meanest of commands into the navigational array. He had shown that he was intelligent in both senses of the word. Well, in some ways. Lessons such as how to recklessly drive a tank and make a drop ship commit an elaborate form of self-destruct he learned with ease, but try to tell him it scarred the new recruits when he shout-growled in the showers – or whatever it was that he had been doing in the communal bathroom after his first battle – well, he still did that sometimes.
So it shouldn’t have surprised him that Human had been able to drive the tank or set coordinates for the drop ship; he had seen Trxcl himself do it for a standard cycle (6 months) now, but he seemed to have missed one crucial point. He had told the ship to go to a particular place as though it were floating in the vacuum of space. It would travel to that location then merely shut off the engines. He hadn’t specified that it was to travel to that location then land. Why he wanted to send the enemy a drop ship Trxcl couldn’t fathom. Did he really think they would just get in it and fly away? Was he really that oblivious? The Celzi never surrendered. Until Human had come they had rarely had any need to even considered it unless facing the 74th.
Whatever Human had thought the drop ship would accomplish, Trxcl knew what would really happen. It would fly a perfect arc to the location Human had specified – at drop speeds too boot, unless Trxcl had only imagined Human hitting that particular green button – then cut its thrusters mere borts (half meters) above the ground, impacting with a terrible destructive force.
Trxcl gasped as this though occurred to him, just as drop ships dark silhouette dipped below the treeline. Turret coil shot, artillery-pulses, and plasma bolts rushed up from the forest to stop it, but it was moving far faster than any pilot wishing to avoid crashing would have dared, making it almost impossible to hit. That was the point, Trxcl realized. The impact could even be faintly heard from where they stood, albeit long after the fact. The debris thrown from the impact was visible much sooner.
Blatvec was nearing panic. Too many men had died! Where was the orbital strike?! What was taking them so long? Were they going to waste this entire day, after all their sacrifice? And a sacrifice it had been. A Major had handed him a casualty report a ri (minute) ago, and it was just as bad as he had feared. Nearly half of the 74th was either dead or unaccounted for, which probably just meant death by Vulza. So intent was he upon the report that he failed to notice the small silhouette fall from the sky towards the enemy defenses.
“Sir! Is that it?”
Looking up excitedly Blatvec glanced up just in time to see a geyser of dirt and debris erupted from the forest canopy in the general area of the Celzi entrenchments.
“It’s about time.” Growled Blatvec, relieved that the 74th had not bled in vain. He looked to the sky, expecting to see a shower of plasma bolts and coil shots falling as rain. He was dissapointed.
“What? Was that all?” he said in disbelief.
“That’s what I asked, sir.”
“Shut it, Gicerpt.”
“I don’t think it was a plasma bolt or coil shot,” piped up Cliip. “In fact, if I had to guess and I removed all sense of logic, I would say it looked like a drop ship, but that’s ridiculous.” Blatvec agreed. Who would have taken a drop ship only to crash it into the ground? They weren’t difficult to fly. You literally told it where to go then pushed a button, and their systems were the opposite of complex, making mechanical failure almost unheard of. His thoughts were interrupted when Doarobihthla, the commander of Doa squad, caught his attention as he rushed to the side of his tank, blue with anger.
“You know those morons who were just transferred from the 109th?” he nearly screamed, spittle flying form his open mouth. “Their commander and that little freak just threw me off of my own tank! They tore off like maniacs and last I saw they were high-tailing it back to the drop ships. We need to stop them before they get there and steal a drop ship and run like the cowards they are! We need t-” Blatvec stopped him by holding one of his paws to the screaming squad commander’s mouth, more to stop the spit bath than the assault on his ears.
“I don’t need to do anything until you start speaking coherently. Now, where did you say they were heading?” Removing his paw, Doa continued as though he’d never stopped. “The drop ships, and if we don’t catch th-” Blatvec replaced the paw so he could be heard as he spoke to Cliip. “Take your squad and see if they were responsible for what we just saw. I can’t imagine why, but for some reason . . . a . . . uh . . .” his words trailed off as another shadow crossed the sky, hurtling towards to the enemy location, followed by the second a single re (5 seconds) later. Both fell with similar clouds of destruction. When the sound of the second impact reached their ears it brought screams with it.
The cries of despair from the enemy focused his mind as no technical lecture ever could. He made the connection. A grin splitting his face, Blatvec turned to Cliip again. “Forget what I just said. Get your squad and two others and follow me to the drop field.”
“What are we going to do when we get there?” Cliip asked. Blatvec sighed. A great mind, Cliip was not.
Bringing his tank to a life with the hum of an anti-grav drive, Blatvec popped out of the hatch once more to answer him, “To do exactly whatever the geniuses who are already there tell us.”