Brigadier General Mando returned in a towering rage to report the matter to Major General Sulmer. He believed the fleet providing support from orbit had been negligent. Unless they'd been smoking too much weed, there was no reason they couldn't find the enemy artillery positions.
But the crew felt terribly aggrieved. Ever since the attack yesterday, the radar operators and lookouts aboard the support fleet had been working around the clock in three shifts. Forget weed—they hadn't even had a proper hot meal, for fear of letting the enemy slip past.
And yet, they really hadn't found the enemy artillery.
"Fine! First you failed to find the enemy tunnels, and now you've failed to find their artillery. So what, were the ones bombing us ghosts?" Brigadier General Mando bellowed.
"I can say it as many times as you like! Not a single soldier in the fleet slacked off. We did everything we could." The captain spoke quietly, but his resolve was firm.
"You chattering scarecrow!"
"You yapping mad dog!"
And so the Wolfgan werewolf marine brigadier general and the Kieyang destroyer captain began glaring murderously at each other across Major General Sulmer. If either of them had been a noble or a psionic, they would probably have been preparing for an honorable duel by now.
Major General Sulmer felt as if his head were splitting. In a fit of frustration, he stood up, swung his cane, and rained blows down on the werewolf brigadier general until the latter could only huddle on the floor and cover up.
He then swung his cane at the Kieyang captain, but the captain was much more alert. He ducked behind the table and began loudly begging for mercy.
Only then did Major General Sulmer, a product of the academic school, feel a little better.