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Chapter 71: Austin
"How does he know? How could he possibly know?" Hodgson's eyebrows trembled, his face quivered, and even his body shook.
Judging by the voice, the person on the other side couldn’t be older than 25 or 26. As a wise, proud, composed, and elegant quasi-nobleman, how could Hodgson tolerate being toyed with so thoroughly by some young upstart? How could he endure it?
On the other side, inside the command center, Hu Qing and Edward’s faces had darkened like storm clouds. Unless the enemy knew about the military’s ongoing decryption of Epsilon technology, there was no way they could have made such a pointed remark.
The existence of an Epsilon relic beneath the base was known only to high-ranking fleet officers and core personnel of the 3789th Division. Ordinary frontline soldiers and junior officers had no way of knowing about it. So how did he find out?
Hu Qing scanned the officers seated around him and shook his head. Impossible. Everyone who knew about this was right here under their noses. Hmm, perhaps his words didn’t refer to the Epsilon relic but rather to the frontline units currently retreating to the base.
While everyone in the command center was lost in thought, silently pondering the deeper meaning behind Tang Fang’s words, the standoff outside suddenly shifted.
A shadow streaked across the sky, and an unwelcome visitor landed on the communication tower linked to the orbital satellite.
The bloated and massive Overseer twitched its body, stretched its head forward, and spat a cluster of sticky bubbles toward the tower’s apex.
The spore casing burst open, and countless slime-coated tendrils rapidly spread around the satellite antenna and microwave communication equipment. In just a few breaths, the entire communication tower resembled a helpless lamb bound tight, waiting to be slaughtered.
Hodgson recognized that thing all too well. More vividly than anyone else, he remembered how this cursed thing had paralyzed his prized possession—his orbital artillery cannon. Without it, how could the frontline positions have fallen? How could the base have been breached?
But what was this act now? Cutting off communications? The retreat orders had already been sent. Wasn’t it too late to seal the tower now? After-the-fact measures were useless.
Hodgson finally found a sliver of psychological comfort. So that guy was just another fool…
But if he had seen Francis’s face at that moment—looking as though someone had died—he might have reconsidered his thoughts.
Thirty meters below the base, inside a mysterious hall, the upload progress bar on the operator’s PDA had stalled at 72%. The glaring "WARNING" icon pulsed like a half-blooded dancer performing an exotic routine, drawing the attention of everyone present.
"Damn it, what happened? Why has it stopped?" Francis sounded like an enraged ape whose butt had been scraped while climbing over walls—his voice sharp and irritable.
"Colonel, the tower has been sealed. There’s a malfunction with the communication equipment. Our connection to the satellite has been forcibly severed," a young officer reported after contacting the command center, his face grim.
"What is Hu Qing doing?" Francis roared.
"Colonel, should we send some people upstairs to help?" Simmons Evelyn, the platoon leader standing behind him, whispered cautiously.
"Would it make any difference if you went up?" Francis gritted his teeth, suppressing his anger, and turned to the flustered researchers nearby. "What are you all standing around for? If the upload failed, then manually copy the data."
After finishing, he turned to Simmons again. "Simmons, take a few men and guard the passageway. Remember, don’t let anyone in under any circumstances."
"Yes, sir." Simmons didn’t say another word. He turned and left with a few subordinates. As Francis’s personal aide, his loyalty was as clear as the sun and moon.
……
Hodgson remained steadfast in executing his stalling tactics. He firmly believed that reinforcements would arrive in time—a quality every nobleman must possess: trust in the empire, trust in comrades.
But clearly, Tang Fang had run out of patience. His target was the main control center and Francis. As for Hodgson’s noble qualities, they interested him as much as office gossip about bosses and secretaries from a past life.
Nine marines and eleven marauders had already been unleashed by Tang Fang, launching a sudden and utterly ruthless assault.
A grenade grazed Hodgson’s shoulder and exploded against the titanium alloy wall of the command building, creating a blinding flash.
Hodgson leaned back against cover, gasping for air. If not for the gunner beside him pulling him back at the last second, that grenade would have detonated against his chest.
Why? Why? Just moments ago, it was a three-person team. Suddenly, it became a group of over twenty. Where had those terrifying figures come from?
The bullets whizzing past him proved this wasn’t an illusion. The dented titanium alloy wall opposite him was real enough. "By the Emperor above! By the sacred 'Celtic' sword above! Why is this happening?"
No one could answer his confusion. The only thing that jolted him awake was a droplet of blood splattered on his armguard.
Hodgson mechanically turned his head. The gunner was already lying flat on his back. The visor of his helmet was shattered, and a metal spike had pierced through his left eye and into his skull. Blood gushed out like a bursting spring.
Hodgson felt a chill run through his body. Until now, he had always commanded battles from the safety of the command room, where the battlefield seemed like an intense and thrilling blockbuster movie. Casualties were merely numbers to him.
But now, for the first time, Hodgson abandoned his noble composure and embraced the fear that ordinary people feel. Because death was so close—it was almost within reach.
The firefight continued. The flashes of grenades illuminated the surroundings, and the vibrations shook the outer shells of their powered armor.
Through the communicator came muffled groans from men, screams from women, and the dull thuds of bullets piercing armor and flesh…
Death fermented like aged wine, brewing and intensifying…
Hodgson took a deep breath, tightened his grip on his M-505 assault rifle, and summoned what little courage he had left. Just as he prepared to counterattack, a shadow flickered to the right of his cover. When he instinctively turned his head, a grotesque six-legged crawler appeared in his field of vision.
He remembered these monsters—they sprayed acid that could melt missile launchers forged from metal-ceramic composite materials.
"Should I run? Or fight back?"
As the thought crossed his mind, a streak of emerald green flashed past.
……
The battle ended quickly. Indeed, the combat effectiveness of the reserve forces composed of clerical officers was pitifully weak. Not a single soldier was lost on Tang Fang’s side, while Hodgson and his dozen or so subordinates all became cold corpses.
On the battlefield, there was no distinction between men and women. Female officers who once walked tall and proud were now nothing more than lifeless bodies. Perhaps she had a delicate face; the mortician might give her extra care.
The doors of the command building remained tightly shut, like a chaste woman resisting violation, refusing to yield easily.
Tang Fang glanced at the emblem of the "Celtic" sword on the door and said indifferently, "Shatter it."
Five Spine Crawlers launched anchor-like spikes through the air, piercing the two-meter-wide titanium-reinforced door. Behind them, Roaches surged forward, spraying torrents of acidic saliva. The titanium door melted like snow under the warm sun, turning into a pile of slag.
"Haha, since the lady’s legs are open, boys, what are you waiting for?" Housen’s crude shout echoed through the communicator. He had waited for this moment for a long time—from the moment the 3789th Division betrayed them, he had been waiting to shove the K-12 quad-barrel grenade launcher up Francis’s rear end and make him bloom in agony.
His drawn-out howl faded as Housen’s swaying figure disappeared down the corridor. Tang Fang nodded to Arroz and followed him into the doorway.
The swirling airflow whipped up gusts of wind, and the oxygen concentration continued to drop. The environmental monitoring alarms in the corridor had already gone off, flashing red lights in quick succession.
"Quick, seal the safety gates and activate the modular emergency protocol!" Despite the overwhelming sense of desolation and helplessness, Hu Qing made one last effort. This persistence was something he shared with Tang Fang—never giving up until the very end.
"Clank, clank, clank…" Heavy doors slammed shut one after another, dividing the entire base into countless large and small sections.
Tang Fang and his companions remained unfazed. The base had been built using engineering ships and special-purpose command vehicles as its foundation, so having such functionality was entirely expected.
The winds subsided, and the oxygen levels gradually returned to normal. Housen, who had already turned a corner, suddenly doubled back. "Hey, Tang Fang, which way do we go?"
"Pfft." Tang Fang nearly burst out laughing. So this reckless guy didn’t know the way. He had charged ahead earlier with such enthusiasm, only to reveal himself as directionally challenged.
"Don’t laugh! Tell me quickly. What if Francis escapes while we’re delayed? Don’t you want revenge?"
Upon reflection, Housen’s concern wasn’t entirely without merit. Tang Fang didn’t know what kind of person Francis was. If he was a coward who fled at the first sign of trouble and escaped via shuttle, what then? After all, Overlord and Overseer lacked anti-air capabilities and couldn’t intercept anything.
"Hold on." Tang Fang contacted the Overseer hovering above the base. Using its infrared sensing abilities, he constructed a map of the base and located the central command room deep in the rear of the complex based on personnel distribution.
"Found it. Follow me." After signaling the others, he turned left and approached a carbon steel alloy gate. Summoning a Zealot, he effortlessly carved out a side entrance and advanced northward along the connecting passage.
As gate after gate was breached, fear spread through the base like a plague. The first to crack were the maintenance engineers in the engineering department. They weren’t officers or frontline soldiers hardened by combat. At best, they were mechanical engineers; at worst, they were drudges wrestling with wrenches, oil, and metal scraps.
To flee was to cling to a slim chance of survival. To stay meant certain death at the hands of those terrifying aliens. Rely on reinforcements? Heaven forbid! With Sulru Empire forces hot on their heels, the fleet could barely manage itself—how could it spare resources to protect low-ranking soldiers like them?
Storage rooms, under vehicles, exhaust pipes—any space large enough to hide a person became their refuge.
Inside the command center, panic reigned as well. The Grim Reaper wielding his scythe showed no hesitation, smashing through steel gates and heading straight for the command room.
The main connecting corridor, once bustling with activity, was now eerily silent. Only the muffled sound of Tang Fang and his companions’ footsteps echoed on the ground, accompanied by the faint hissing of the swarm trailing behind them.
…….
Meanwhile, in the outer space surrounding Planet Namie, an increasingly fierce naval engagement was unfolding.
Smaller escort ships darted about in front, while larger cruisers maneuvered in the rear. Their formations twisted and turned like braided ropes, performing seemingly random yet meticulously calculated evasive maneuvers.
The flames of automatic cannons tore through the void, filling the skies with torpedoes, missiles, electrified projectiles from railguns, and the rainbow glows of pulse lasers.
It was like stepping into a surreal world—no sound, no explosions, only continuous bursts of light and towering flames. Of course, there were also the scattered remnants of bodies floating in space, twisted and fragmented, alongside everyday items like toothbrushes, coffee cups, condoms, sanitary pads, and cheap pregnancy tests.
Deep in the rear of the Thunder Fleet, aboard the flagship carrier "Zeus," Lieutenant General Austin Scott of the Empire was in a rage.
"Communications officer, what did you say? Communications with the ground have been cut off? What exactly happened?"
Young Heloise trembled slightly, her voice trembling as if on the verge of tears. "General, s-someone disabled the communication tower of the 3789th Division. It caused the communication blackout and forced the data reception process to halt."
Austin Scott’s eyebrows furrowed. "So, the 3789th Division base has fallen?"
Heloise shook her head. Her slender fingers danced across the electronic keyboard, and a flash of blue light appeared on the side monitor, showing footage captured by surveillance satellites. A monstrous creature nearly forty meters long hovered above the base, and the communication tower in the southwest corner was covered in a thick layer of sickening gray-brown mucus.
"What the hell is that thing?" Austin’s gaze turned icy. "Heloise, what exactly happened at the 3789th Division base?"
"General, this footage was just transmitted by the satellite."
The image on the monitor shifted. In the frame, a man clad in "Guardian Knight" powered armor led a group of grotesque aliens and a mysterious force in a relentless assault, breaking through the defensive positions of the 3789th Division with ease.
"Who… who is this man?" Austin’s lips twitched slightly. His eyes held shock, confusion, and bewilderment. The man in the frame wore standard-issue imperial powered armor, yet he attacked his own side. What about those powerful alien attackers and golden warriors? Where did they come from?
"I don’t know." Heloise gently shook her head. "The sensor components have been destroyed, making it impossible to read the armor’s serial number. Earlier communications from the base didn’t mention his name either."
"How could such a major incident not have been reported to me sooner?" Austin roared, veins bulging on his forehead as he teetered on the edge of losing control. The fall of the logistics base, the interruption of data transmission—such a critical event, and he was only hearing about it now. What was this battle for if not the Epsilon technology? If the mission failed, who would bear the blame? Who could possibly shoulder it?
"General, you were discussing plans with your advisors to divert several cruisers for a surprise attack on the second battlefield near the equator to dismantle the enemy’s interception efforts. Y-you ordered that no one disturb you." Heloise felt deeply wronged, but her face betrayed no emotion. Whether male or female, young or old, once on the battlefield, one had to force themselves to mature and become efficient. This was both military discipline and a crucial survival skill.
"Huff…" Austin exhaled a lungful of stale air. "How long has the base been under siege?"
He didn’t apologize. He didn’t have the energy to apologize, nor did he need to. He was an imperial lieutenant general, and she was merely a lowly lieutenant.
"Uh… less than ten minutes," Heloise replied after glancing at the data transmission records.
"Only ten minutes?" Austin was stunned. "What’s the data upload progress? How far along is it?"
"72%."
Frowning in deep thought for a moment, he suddenly clenched his teeth. "Order officer, relay my command. Cancel the previous plan. Redirect Tiger Shark Squadron to target the 3789th Division base. I don’t care what method they use—even if they level the entire base—they must ensure that the Epsilon relic remains in our possession."
"Yes, sir." The order officer hurried off.
Austin slowly sat down on the sofa, lightly rubbing the already whitening armrests. Those who knew him understood that this was his signature move when anxious.
The scale of the second and third battlefields was growing larger, and the number of troops committed was snowballing. In space, because both sides still exercised some restraint, battleships and carrier-class units had yet to enter the fray.
However, skirmishes initiated by cruisers and destroyers continued unabated. Moreover, in the near and far orbits of the second battlefield near the equator, small escort ships from both sides engaged in tug-of-war battles for control of strategic drop points.
The tension persisted, and losses slowly mounted. Eventually, the conflict would engulf the entire fleet, and neither battleships nor carriers would escape unscathed.
Given the strength of both fleets, the outcome was destined to be mutually destructive. Austin took a deep breath and gazed through the porthole at the gray-brown planet below. Only by securing that research data could they secure an unbeatable position.
He was also deeply intrigued by the identity of that man—the biological warship over thirty meters long and that mysterious force. Where had they come from? And why did they follow his commands?
The Saint Violet Fleet and Thunder Fleet loomed in the void, spanning tens of thousands of kilometers. Within this range, not even a meteorite could pass unnoticed by the shipborne radar networks.
How had they infiltrated the ground battlefield? Why was that man attacking the base? What was he after?
Austin pondered for a long while before a spark of insight flashed in his mind. Could this man be a high-ranking officer of the 3789th Division, aware of the Epsilon relic beneath the base and the fact that the decryption process was nearing completion? If he intercepted the data, he could claim the fruits of Thunder Fleet’s operation.
This was a classic case of two parties fighting while a third benefits.
If that were true, then this man must be a spy planted by some faction within the military. But… who? It certainly wasn’t the Sulru Empire.
The Charles Federation? The Republic of Idah? The Turanics United Kingdom? Or perhaps the Solon Empire?
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