Baran-gut is a sharp tactician and a logistics expert.
Standing here in this high mountain cliff, he can take a little pride in his accomplishment. It is no small feat to gather one quarter count of infantry and thousands of battleships in less than a runk-year.
Nevertheless, he wants more.
The Quant may only be a fraction of his army size but the latter's technology and their defense satellites' strategic locations is no mediocrity. He will need all the arsenal he can get, because he wants a decisive victory over the opponent. He doesn't leave anything to chance.
Hence, this massive collection he is looking right now must be solid. No deserters will be tolerated.
After filling his eyes with the army scenery, the eight foot Baran-gut grunted in a large scary tone then hopped to his land speeder; and headed to base camp.
The huge parliament house of the old republic is now evidently converted to a modern war camp.
Baran-gut landed his speeder and stormed to the central station to find his master Pedro.
The minute he found him, he wasted no time to report. "Boss... two squadrons of Brahm fighters intend to go back to their original posts." Baran-gut said with much scorn and vim that commanded immediate attention, hence making the surrounding sentries and technicians to be quiet at once.
Baran-gut is a renowned warrior, and when he talks you better listen.
Pedro turned around to the urgency of the matter at hand. His hands folded behind his back and he remained calm opposite the apparently angry Brahm.
"Two squadrons.." he said confirming what the giant just mumbled. "They should not be permitted to leave." Or more will follow he added in his mind.
"Exactly my sentiments, boss."
Pedro sighed and walked casually to his private hangar followed by Baran-gut. The former asked the location of the two squadrons which the latter answered promptly; and within minutes, Pedro is at the site; in the middle of the whole battle regiment.
His patience started to grow thin.
"Where is the squadron that wants to go back to the cluster post?" the Runkan with the yellow-green hair, casually asked.
A heavy built Brahm pilot jumped down from his fighter cruiser. "We are right here." the tall beast snarled.
"And who leads you?"
A thin nine foot pilot came out from behind. "I am captain Buro. And we already made our decision." said the Brahm with the usual commanding voice.
"And what decision is that, exactly?"
Buro growled. "This war is illegal, and we will not be a part of it."
One by one the squadron boarded their cruisers while Baran-gut arrived at the scene.
When he reached Pedro's location, the fourteen fighter cruisers are already launching.
"You are letting them leave?"
"Of course not." The Runkan replied casually. "We are making an example out of them." he said, with that naughty sneer that is surely sinister.
When the deserting cruisers reached two hundred feet, Pedro began to float. Slowly he elevated himself reaching thirty feet where all of his battle regiment could clearly see.
He maintained altitude of about forty feet and confirmed that all of his army around him is looking intently.
He looked up at the fleeing squadrons and by a blink of an eye, he catapulted towards them in supersonic speed and suddenly disappeared.
Almost at the same time he re-appeared in front of Captain Buro's cockpit, directly looking down at the surprised Brahm pilot.
"Wrong choice, captain!" he said before disappearing again and hurling to the cruiser on the left with his sword drawn and ready to strike.
Much like the ideal speed of a wazikashi slicing thru bamboo, Pedro flew fast and cut the first cruiser in half. Too fast, that he appeared like a mere white line in the middle of the craft until it exploded piece by piece.
With no hesitation he flew to the next cruiser on the right and sliced it also into two, then the next, and the next, until all fourteen cruisers are exploding in the air with the pilots ejecting.
In less than ten seconds, all cruisers are blowing up like fireworks in the sky for everyone to see.
The thunderous sounds of exploding fuel echoed all around adding spectacle to the display.
Blue and pink flame fluffing into bubbles of destructive array.
As the sparkles of explosions fade, what's left are clouds of smoke and the fourteen pilots floating high in the air with their jet packs.
Right in their center is the Runkan.... smiling.
Buro drew his long knife and so does the other thirteen pilots; then Pedro's smile grew even larger. "Like I said captain.....wrong choice."
In one attack sweep, all fourteen Brahm pilots are dead by Pedro's blade.
From the ground, what happened looked like a kaleidoscope that finished where it started; and all of the squadron are either decapitated or sliced in half.
Their blood sprinkled into the open thin air that it was like spring time of green color.
For a very wide area of ground where the whole battle regiment stands, there is almost no sound to be heard as Pedro slowly descent from two hundred feet.
Slightly soaked in green blood of the Brahm, all of them stood motionless as their commander come down from above like the vanquisher that he is.
He landed softly in front of Baran-gut.
"We need to double ourefforts to mobilize." Pedro said, wiping his face. "We advance in six--twentyfour time."
YOU ARE READING
RIPE & DRAGGERS
خيال (فانتازيا)Silence first. Then the Brahm spoke. "Every object in the universe that is moving creates a drag in the space-time continuum. The bigger the object, the bigger the drag; and this drag creates an energy field that can be harnessed and manipulated." ...
