Oyonale - 3D art and graphic experiments
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The General looked out the porthole. He squinted, trying to make out the telltale signs of war, a few thousand feet below. He saw nothing, and felt relieved.

Not that he didn't enjoy making war, of course. He had no qualms about killing millions of beings, provided that he could do it from the safety of his office, or even from home, thanks to telecommuting. Nuking folks for breakfast... How he loved the lovely smell of coffee in the morning, that sweet smell of victory. But war at close range, that was different. The bloody thing was just too dangerous.

Unfortunately, someone above had wanted a General on the battlefields, so here he was, planet-hopping around the galaxy at relativistic speed, visiting every single United Humans platoon that was busy kicking alien butt. There were so many bug-eyed freaks who dared to resist the path of human enlightenment that he had lost count of the ongoing wars. He no longer knew where he was and against whom the troops were fighting. It's not like the voters at home cared that much either. All aliens looked alike to them. The truth was that some gory filler material was needed between the commercials, otherwise people kept switching channels.

The ship landed on what seemed a peaceful spaceport. The local Commander who greeted him was quite cheery. No, the war wasn't over. Yes, the troops were doing great. Yes, the enemy was being turned into pulp. Zero UH casualties so far, apart the usual drunken accidents. And would the General be interested in wiping out a few enemy holdouts?

The General wasn't sure. But how could he refuse? The Commander pushed him in a car, where a couple of girls in rather civilian clothes were already waiting. Then began an hour of greyish, boring alien flat ground strewn with small boulders, during which the General had trouble keeping himself awake, even though the girls and the Commander chatted excitedly about the war he couldn't see or hear.

I think the enemy's over there, said the Commander, pointing at a larger rock. He stopped the car next to it, the girls turned their spiked heels into heavy boots, and the little party climbed out of the vehicle.

Here, said the Commander. If you want to be first, Sir.

The General looked at the rock, then at the ground. He couldn't see anything, apart a couple of darker spots that looked like lichen. The Commander and the girls were expecting him to do something. But what?

OK, I'll show you, said one of the girls. And she stomped on the spots for a few seconds, ending the gesture with several circling, and rather inelegant, movements.

Don't forget to wipe your feet, she said, otherwise you'll get enemy goo in the cracks of your soles, and it smells. This was just a little army I just crushed, but don't worry, there'll be much