Why Humans Make Bad Pets!

Check that, I'm a military prodigy IV

“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.”