"I thought you said WE HAD SPACE SUPREMACY!” Kilnix screamed over the continuous pounding of the orbital bombardment on his position.

“We do!” The communicator crackled, plasma from the explosions interfering with the connection. “The humans don’t have a singe ship left in orbit!”

“Well SOMEONE is bombing the hell out of us!" Kilnix cursed for the millionth time. "Is this bloody friendly fire?”

“You think I didn’t check that? There aren’t even any distortions in the upper atmosphere! No stealth ships, no delayed bombardments, Nothing!”

“I’ve already lost half my battalion, and if I can’t move this entire offensive is Dust! DUST! Do you want your severed head offered up as apology to the Emperor? Because mine is going to be pounded to bits and they’re going to blame SOMEONE.”

“I-I.. I can’t do anything! It has to be on the ground somewhere! Are you sure it’s not those spec ops humans? They love placing bombs everywhere.”

“If they were implanted bombs the shields wouldn’t be blocking FIRE FROM THE BLOODY SKY.”

“It has to be dirtside! It has to be!”

Kilnix snorted. “What kind of hatchling do you take me for? You can’t launch an orbital bombardment from a planet!” He cut off the communicator with a curse. Emperor protect him from incompetent subordinates.

“Artillery to E3, over.”

“Again? Aren’t those scale heads already full suppressed? Over.”

“Might as well hit them with another thousand shells. Judicious application of fire support hasn’t failed me yet, over”

“Eh, fair enough. Six minutes till inbound, watch your head, over.”

"Roger that. Out"