Otaku Translation: Carrying the Bases of Starcraft C117

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Chapter 117: Ashes

"What use are you worthless scum to the Empire?" Nakamura Neji’s curse swept over everyone in the room like a bitter wind. "If we know the enemy attacked from underwater, what are we waiting for? Where are the escort submarines? What have they been doing?"

The communications officer raised his head timidly. "C-Commander… the submarine fleet has lost contact."

"What?" Upon hearing this, Nakamura Neji seemed to collapse inwardly, as though every ounce of strength had been drained from him. He staggered backward several steps—three heavy thuds—and slumped against the weapons rack.

At such close range, if the submarine fleet had lost contact, there was only one explanation: they too had been ambushed.

The surface ships were nearly annihilated; the submarines had been struck; and the skies above were now barren wastelands. Of the more than thirty aircraft that once patrolled the skies—early warning planes, attack helicopters, anti-submarine warfare craft—only a handful remained like scattered leaves on an autumn breeze.

After suffering such devastating losses, they still knew nothing about their enemy—not who they were, where they came from, or even what they looked like. The sole piece of intelligence gathered was that these foes could strike from beneath the waves with firepower overwhelming enough to crush the Krotan Navy.

It was over. Everything was over. The Antolin tilted precariously into the last rays of sunset, its shadow stretching long across the deck of the Izumo.

In just over ten minutes, the Tiagalara missile destroyer had sunk to the depths, followed by twelve frigates. Now it was the Antolin’s turn. It didn’t take much imagination to see that soon the Izumo would follow them all into the abyss, reduced to little more than scrap metal at the bottom of the sea.

"Communications officer, compile all available data on the enemy and transmit it to headquarters," Nakamura said hoarsely. Turning to the assembled officers, he added, "Gentlemen, the time has come to sacrifice ourselves for the Empire and serve Lord Marquis with our final loyalty."

As if to punctuate his impassioned speech, a phase-splitting projectile streaked toward them, shimmering like a fragile bubble of water before landing with a soft pop on the satellite antenna of the communications tower.

The charge film shattered, unleashing torrents of antimatter energy that crackled outward like lightning. With a blinding flash and searing heat, the entire communications tower crumbled into ruin, as though devoured by some colossal beast. All progress on compiling data ceased instantly, and every system tied to communications lit up with alarm lights.

Meanwhile, the Amaterasu-AP5 early warning aircraft, which had just received orders to retreat eastward, was struck by a particle beam fired from below the surface. The precision of the shot tore through the tail-mounted vertical takeoff propulsion unit. A muffled explosion roared, sending thick plumes of smoke billowing into the air. Like a wounded bird losing its ability to fly, the plane plummeted straight down, crashing onto the aft landing pad of the Izumo in a fiery inferno. The intense heatwave spread outward, accompanied by the agonized screams of sailors.

Before the aftershocks of the crash could subside, five laser beams erupted from beneath the waves, carving jagged gashes along the ship’s hull, each cut slicing deep to the keel.

Crack-crackle… Boom. Boom.

Fist-sized sparks burst forth alongside continuous explosions. The Izumo was like a fat fish laid out on a butcher's block, being hacked apart piece by piece within moments. Wherever the disintegration beams passed, the cross-sections of the ship glowed crimson, melting machinery into molten slag. Human bodies fared far worse—if someone happened to be directly in the path of the cutting trajectory, death came mercifully quick, as extreme temperatures vaporized flesh and bone instantly. But those unlucky enough to be caught farther away suffered horribly. Much like Commander Nakamura himself, their skin would first redden, then blister, sweat mingling with blood and oils dripping grotesquely onto the deck.

For nearly half a minute, earsplitting cries filled the air until flames consumed clothing, hair, and finally flesh, leaving behind charred remains—or worse, corpses cast adrift in the water, bloated and blackened by fire.

When the last desperate helicopter fleeing westward was obliterated by a returning Stalker particle shattering cannon—a triumphant hunter finishing off its prey—the lopsided battle finally drew to a close. Twenty-four nuclear submarines, twelve frigates, three missile destroyers, and over thirty aircraft lay destroyed, not a single soul surviving among their crews.

The wind calmed, and debris drifted aimlessly across the waves. Among the wreckage floated countless bodies swollen by seawater. Blood flowed with the current, drawing schools of fish to feast amid the refuse.

---

Tang Fang sat astride Overseer, slowly approaching the battlefield, lost in thought. Part of his forces—Stalkers, Dragoons, Sentries, and Zealots—had been dispatched to scour the seabed once again, seeking the data storage centers of the sunken submarines and warships. Their mission was simple: erase every trace of this engagement so thoroughly that even if the government salvaged the wrecks, no useful information would remain.

With the mixed naval squadron wiped out, much of the Northern Sunaru Alliance’s crisis had already dissipated. All that remained was to eliminate the remnants of the Sea Falcon Commandos, securing Montgomery’s rescue. This act would repay Grant and Stivie for their alliance while also serving as a gift to Marion—one substantial enough to warrant asking for a starship cruiser without hesitation.

But the benefits went beyond mere gratitude. The crystal count in his system space had surged to 36,195—a staggering increase of 17,290 since the start of the battle. A single naval skirmish had yielded both victory and resources, recouping much of the cost spent producing Stalkers, Sentries, and Dragoons.

He couldn’t help but fantasize further. If he continued trailing the rebels and engaging in full-scale battles against the government forces, how many more resources might flow his way?

Lost in these thoughts, Tang Fang received confirmation from his Protoss units that their cleanup mission was complete. With a mental command, he recalled them to his system space. Gazing at the formidable Protoss warriors, he allowed himself a small smile. Powerful though they were, they shared a critical weakness with Zerg units—they couldn’t be revealed publicly. Doing so would invite suspicion and complications.

Facing the might of the Empire, he was still weak, lacking the means to stand toe-to-toe just yet. Concealing the strengths of the Protoss and Zerg factions was essential—for now. Should their existence draw unwanted attention from Imperial high command, he’d face relentless pursuit without adequate anti-air capabilities.

Using Terran units alone posed fewer risks. Marines and Marauders were, after all, unmistakably human. Even if spotted, they wouldn’t raise eyebrows in a society teeming with nations and factions, each experimenting with new technologies. Who could say whose prototype power armor was responsible?

Only the Thunder Fleet harbored partial knowledge of his secrets. But with the Zeus-class carrier capable of reaching nearby star systems in twenty days at best, by the time the lumbering military bureaucracy reacted, he’d already have spirited away Tang Yun and Tang Lin to parts unknown.

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