Otaku Translation: Carrying the Bases of Starcraft C87

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Austin stared blankly at the monitor, his eyes fixed on the scene unfolding like something out of a disaster movie. A chill ran down his spine, and his hands and feet felt numb. The Tiger Shark Squadron was gone—every single one of the eighteen Tiger Shark-class destroyers and fifty-four Dogfish shark-class frigates obliterated.

They hadn’t completed the mission. They hadn’t rescued anyone. And now, they’d lost their own lives in the process. It was all his fault. As the fleet commander, the responsibility rested squarely on his shoulders.

Regret and frustration clawed at him for a moment, but Austin quickly shook it off. He was a seasoned veteran, after all, and he knew better than to wallow when there was still work to be done. There would be time for self-recrimination later. For now, his priority was clear: preserve as much of the fleet’s strength as possible.

“Robertson, is the engine preheating done yet?” Austin barked.

The head of the flight crew wiped a bead of sweat from his brow. “Y-yes, sir. Ready to go.”

“Well, what are you waiting for? Fire up the engines!”

“Yes… yes, sir!” Robertson stole a glance at the streaks of light flashing outside the viewport, each one resembling a comet hurtling through the void. His voice rose as he gave the order.

In moments like these, smaller ships had the advantage over their larger counterparts. While the Zeus, the carrier, and most of the battleships and cruisers were still warming up, several interceptors, special operations vessels, and frigates had already finished charging their warp drives. They were preparing to enter hyperspace.

At the stern of the Zeus, sixteen massive thrusters flared to life, their silver-white flames shifting to an eerie shade of blue. A series of warp fields began radiating outward, gradually enveloping the colossal vessel.

As a behemoth stretching over 700 meters in length, the Zeus required far more Zerion fuel than smaller ships to achieve warp speed. Its engine activation cycle was also significantly longer.

The blue flames spewing from the thrusters lit up the surrounding darkness like a fireworks display, igniting the void with bursts of color. The ship shuddered slightly, like a massive crocodile emerging from a swamp, shaking off mud and debris.

Around it, countless cruisers orbited like satellites, their hulls shimmering with streams of light as their own warp fields expanded. In just ten seconds, they too would vanish into hyperspace.

The thirty-two Whale Shark-class battleships—the fleet’s primary offensive force—had already retracted their weapons. The twin 1200mm cannons at the bow, the triple-barreled 420mm railguns along the sides, and the heavy missile arrays at the rear were all stowed away. Trails of blue flame erupted from their sterns, forming a dazzling matrix of light in the void.

Smaller vessels, such as geological survey ships and Pioneer-class research vessels, had already entered hyperspace ahead of the Thunder Fleet, safely escaping the impending catastrophe.

The energy eruption from Planet Namie had reached its peak. Finally, with a blinding flash that engulfed the entire tranquil star system, the planet detonated. What had once been a celestial body was now a swirling inferno, radiating endless heat and light.

Chunks of rock, large and small, shot out in every direction like shrapnel on a battlefield. A violent particle storm surged outward at near-light speed, spreading waves of energy across the void.

Even the Tranquil Star, usually so calm and unflappable, seemed enraged by the influx of high-energy particles. Plasma jets erupted repeatedly from its otherwise serene corona, solar flares burst forth, and powerful solar winds carried charged particles across millions of miles of space.

But Austin wasn’t worried about the solar activity—not yet, anyway. The Zeus’ magnetic repulsion field was fully operational, shielding the ship from harm. As the warp field stabilized, Austin began to relax. If he could bring the majority of the fleet back intact, perhaps the Prince wouldn’t be too harsh on him. After all, in the face of cosmic forces, humanity’s place in the universe remained unchanged—small, fragile, and insignificant.

Just as on the bridge of the Saint Violet Fleet’s Divine Revelation-class carrier, Austin received a report with similar implications, though phrased differently: “Gravitational interference detected in the warp field. Engine efficiency has dropped. Auxiliary propulsion units must be activated to counteract the interference before entering hyperspace.”

“What? How could this happen? Why?” Austin roared.

The intelligence officer hesitated, then pointed cautiously at the central monitor. Austin looked up. On the screen, Planet Namie resembled a fiery beast whose belly had been torn open, spewing cosmic matter in every direction. Meanwhile, Elizabeth—the planet’s former moon—had abandoned it entirely, spiraling away like a faithless lover fleeing with stolen treasures.

It was Elizabeth that was disrupting the warp fields of both fleets.

Though humanity had been exploring the cosmos for over two centuries, some scientists still considered advancements in space travel disappointing, especially regarding faster-than-light travel. Strictly speaking, the warp drives developed by reverse-engineering Epsilon technology were incomplete—a neutered version of what the aliens had created.

First, during the formation of a warp field, a ship needed to remain free from external forces to stabilize the warp reaction and create a spacetime bubble. Ignoring this requirement and forcing entry into hyperspace could lead to catastrophic consequences. For instance, miscalculations might cause a ship to emerge light-years away from its intended destination—or worse, inside a star or a planetary crust, dooming the crew.

Second, the compression value and warp factor of the spacetime bubble had to be calculated based on the distance between the ship’s current position and its target. Once in hyperspace, the warp factor couldn’t be altered; the ship was locked onto its course until it exited hyperspace. In other words, mid-flight stops or changes in destination were impossible.

These limitations plagued human-made warp drives—but not those aboard Epsilon ships. Their engines were nearly perfect, offering unparalleled flexibility and reaching warp levels far beyond humanity’s maximum of 7, achieving a staggering 9.99.

Elizabeth’s trajectory was erratic, almost taunting. Austin shot up from his seat, momentarily forgetting his noble demeanor, and muttered a curse under his breath. The rogue moon was affecting both Saint Violet Fleet and Thunder Fleet with its gravitational pull, playing both sides against each other.

“Navigation team, what are you waiting for? Activate the auxiliary propulsion units! If we don’t act fast, we’re all dead!”

Dennis, the navigator, responded with a look of helplessness. “General, the auxiliary units are already running. But balancing the external forces acting on the ship takes time.”

He added in a barely audible mutter, “And the Zeus is a carrier…”

Austin exhaled sharply, slamming his fist onto the armrest of the couch.

“General,” the intelligence officer interjected nervously, “the asteroid fragments ejected from Planet Namie’s explosion are rapidly approaching our fleet.”

This time, Austin didn’t move. His expression darkened further. “Alert all ships. Prepare for impact.”

“Yes, General.”

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