Battles Beyond (Book 1: The Fleeing Saga)

Forces (6/#2)

This is the coolest one so far. I hope you enjoy it.

Cascachu noticed the threat of Wixin coming; he would obliterate them if he wasn't stopped. Therefore, they had to blast him out the sky.

Wixin saw they were preparing to shoot. He was prepared to change direction whenever necessary.

As he passed the trio whose descent was slowed by a bubble, General Ippe asked him if he was aware of them being a part of the Defence Force.

I don't know, bossman, Wixin was as clueless as him. I never seen them before.

"Zoom in on the uniforms. Let me see them." He wanted him to adjust his body camera. It was the size of a button and could easily attach itself to someone.

I can't bossman. I taking some dread fire so I have to touch down now.

Understood. "Everyone, get to work!" Ippe commanded the video specialists in the war room.

There were numerous rows and columns of white holographic screens under watch. Further from the centre, a slight curve was visible.

One of the seated specialists replayed and froze the image at the behest of Supreme General Ippe—his full title.

In a quick motion, many screens faded their borders and became one. The few lining the perimeter remained separate.

"Look at that." Ippe was intrigued.

"What, sir?" The specialist failed to grasp his statement. "The numbers?"

Annoyance got to him. "Yes, the I.D numbers."

They zoomed in more but they were still too vague. He demanded them to get even closer. "That's it. 0367...685978."

The realisation hit him like an oncoming freight train. Ippe needed those uniforms.

Another specialist wondered if he would ask Wixin to get it or another elite soldier.

"No. I'll do it myself. Call the Avian Division. Tell them to prep my favourite craft."

He took off his jacket, pulled up his sleeves, and removed his tie. Both articles of clothing were placed on a roundtable where many key military discussions took place before exiting the war room for the landing bays.

Once their general's footsteps faded into obscurity, ole talk passed from the subordinates' mouths. They were determined to voice their frustrations to each other.

A specialist grabbed his lunch bag to chew on some grilled meat covered in red sauce so he could listen to the behind-the-back insults as he ate.

"And the twelve hours shifts. Jeeeeezzz, that lifeform wicked." A rounded one at the far left got up to stretch, her body sore from prolonged sitting on her stool with steps.

"He does only be here eight hours a day, then he does go in his quarters,"

More threw themselves into complaining.

"Must be to play with himself."

Joyful laughter radiated from everyone, including the stuck-up head specialist, DooDao.

"Come on... everyone. Let... let's get back... to work." DooDao's laughter stalled his rigid demeanour that was usually highlighted by a bushy unibrow he bent sternly.

His charges shrugged him off before resuming work.

* * *

"Durin, what are we going to do now? We must have spent an eternity up here." Zazavin's words were clear despite holding onto them.