Otaku Translation: Carrying the Bases of Starcraft C138

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Chapter 138: Flowers of the Battlefield

Using the communication equipment on the armored vehicle, Montgomery successfully contacted the command center at Makanda Arsenal. After learning the full details of what had transpired, he couldn't help but sigh deeply and once again expressed his gratitude to Tang Fang.

Next, Montgomery briefly outlined the situation on the Diromos Plateau. Upon receiving news that Kabuto Air Force Base had fallen, the 408th Division stationed in the southern part of the plateau—tasked with containing the Northern Sunaru Alliance—had remained relatively inactive. However, the First Legion’s 108th, 208th, and 308th Armored Divisions, positioned along the Dhem corridor, each dispatched approximately three battalions moving southwest along the Gunter Mountain range towards their location. But given their pace, it would still take them a full day and night to arrive.

Thus, the special ops team had ample time. Montgomery's orders were clear: before noon tomorrow, they were to transfer as many operational attack helicopters, drones, fighter jets, and bombers as possible to the air transport docks occupied by the rebels in the northeast. The rest were to be destroyed—nothing left for the government forces.

Additionally, he urged Claire to repair the base's anti-air defenses to prepare for potential airstrikes from the government forces tonight.

After issuing his commands, he exchanged a few casual words with Tang Fang, Nehemiah, and others, then ended the transmission.

Tang Fang had initially planned to set out immediately under cover of darkness to reach Droznyr Naval Port as quickly as possible. However, Broad, Xia Yuanhua, and others clearly weren’t willing to let him leave so easily. Under the enthusiastic persuasion of the group, Tang Fang reluctantly abandoned his original plan, deciding instead to stay overnight at the airbase and depart early the next morning.

The base's inventory was abundant, stocked with all kinds of food, drinks, and beer. Broad, Xia Yuanhua, and a crowd of rebel soldiers whose lives Tang Fang had saved surrounded him, passing cups back and forth, expressing their heartfelt thanks through shared drinks.

Tang Fang accepted every toast, drinking late into the night with these men who radiated warmth, sincerity, and hearty laughter. Perhaps due to the side effects of his accelerated regeneration, he didn’t succumb to drunkenness like Broad, Xia Yuanhua, and the others.

Arroz and Housen fared similarly—they hadn’t gotten drunk—but after a day of intense fighting, exhaustion overtook them both. They slumped onto the couches in the lounge and fell into a deep sleep.

Finishing the last sip of his drink, Tang Fang stepped around the sprawled bodies of sleeping rebel soldiers, grabbed an unopened bottle of beer, and walked out of the room.

No airstrike came that night; perhaps the government forces realized that assaulting a base armed with anti-air missile systems would only result in unnecessary casualties.

In this battle, including the special ops team and the insurgent miners, the rebel forces lost 289 fighters, with over 300 wounded—nearly one-third of their total numbers. By midnight, the injured were tended to, and the dead laid to rest. Thanks to the regenerative properties of the queen larva serum, most critically injured soldiers had recovered. Even those who had lost limbs were reattached after their severed parts were found.

Whether medical personnel or officers like Iyeta, everyone was profoundly intrigued by Tang Fang. His mysterious origins, his group's unmatched combat prowess, and his so-called "ancestral secret recipe"—just who exactly was this man named Talosal? His appearance seemed like a divine gift to the rebellion. If they could fight alongside him indefinitely, what was there to fear?

Tang Fang actually wished he could stay longer. The rebels had left such a positive impression on him throughout their journey. But alas, more pressing matters awaited—he needed to retrieve Tang Lin and Tang Yun. He wasn’t sure if the military might connect his presence to the Zzerg units that appeared on Planet Namie after the battle. The stakes were too high to take any risks. His immediate priority was to reach Rector and bring Tang Lin and Tang Yun to safety. For now, all he could do was silently apologize to the rebels in his heart.

The moonlight poured down like liquid silver, brushing softly over the uneven surface of the runway, casting a gentle glow across the landscape. The night air was cool, punctuated occasionally by the crisp chirping of summer insects—a sound that brought comfort amidst the chaos.

A distant wail pierced the silence as an aircraft disappeared into the horizon. The blinking signal lights on the runway stretched like a glowing rail, merging with the starry expanse above. Beneath this tranquil night sky, shadows moved between planes and hangars—the special ops soldiers following Montgomery’s orders to relocate combat aircraft.

Facing the chilly breeze of the plateau, Tang Fang gazed northward. About three kilometers away lay a small plateau lake, no more than two square kilometers in size. According to Xia Yuanhua, the comrades who fell in this battle would be buried there. A serene lake, lush green grass, and cool mountain winds—it truly was a perfect resting place. Determining his direction, Tang Fang began walking toward the lake.

Half an hour later, he reached the lakeshore. Rolling green meadows stretched before him, dotted here and there with clusters of purple wildflowers. Occasionally, a bug scuttled by, creating faint rustling sounds. In the distance, tree branches swayed, and a soft breeze stirred the forest canopy, sending waves of murmuring leaves rippling through the air.

Through gaps in the dense foliage, a shimmering line of water reflected the moonlight—it must have been the crescent-shaped lake.

In the knee-high grass outside the woods, someone had cleared a patch of land. Fresh, loose soil formed neat mounds, each marked by irregular stones serving as gravestones. On them were carved names, genders, birth years, and brief epitaphs—for instance, “Lancelot loved rum,” or “Colum loved horseback riding…”

At the foot of each mound lay a bouquet of white flowers, pure and untainted. It was evident that whoever placed them had put great care into selecting matching blooms—an effort not easily achieved, considering the variety of flowers growing nearby.

Tang Fang noticed a figure standing at the far end of the cemetery, facing away from him, gazing toward the wooded area. Judging by the silhouette, it was likely Iyeta.

“Iyeta, did you gather all these flowers?” Tang Fang asked casually as he approached Sam’s grave, popping open the beer can.

“Huh?” Startled, Iyeta turned around. Recognizing him under the moonlight, she smiled slightly and walked over. “What are you doing here? Didn’t they get you drunk?”

By then, Tang Fang had already sat down, pouring the beer gently over the grave. “Because I suddenly remembered there was one person I hadn’t toasted yet. After leaving here, I don’t know when—or if—I’ll ever return…”

His voice trailed off. Iyeta’s expression darkened, and she spoke softly. “This white flower is called ‘White Cloud Flower’ in our Krotan culture. It never grows alone; other flowers always accompany it. So don’t feel too sad—Sam won’t be lonely. He has everyone with him.”

Tang Fang paused, nodding slightly. “There’s the scent of flowers, a clear lake, a refreshing breeze, and friends who share the same ideals… And his older brother. Sam, wherever he is, he won’t be alone. I just wish he could grow up and witness the downfall of this decaying empire with his own eyes.”

“Will we succeed?” Iyeta’s tone carried a hint of melancholy. Could people as insignificant as ants truly overthrow such a colossal empire?

“We will,” Tang Fang replied, his voice low but resolute.

“Do you want to know who picked these flowers?” Iyeta abruptly changed the subject.

“Who picked them?”

She raised her arm, pointing toward the lake nestled among the trees. “Sometimes, what we see isn’t always the truth.”

“Oh?” Tang Fang stood up, the empty beer can in hand, and looked toward the lake. “I meant to place flowers on little Sam’s grave myself. Since someone else did it, I should go thank them.”

Iyeta nodded, waved goodbye, and turned back toward the base. Watching her disappear, Tang Fang slowly made his way into the wooded area.

“Rustle, rustle…” The gentle breeze stirred the pine trees, and the sound of flowing water echoed nearby. Tang Fang lifted his head, peering through the gaps in the trees to see the shimmering surface of the lake.

Small ripples danced across the water, the lapping waves whispering like lovers exchanging secrets. A thin layer of moonlight coated the sandy shore, delicate wisps swirling like nocturnal sprites dancing to the rhythm of the waves.

Near the edge of the lake, leaning against a smooth rock worn down by years of rain, wind, and sun, stood a lone figure gazing silently at the rippling waters.

“Is that her?” Tang Fang frowned almost imperceptibly. The person leaning against the stone was none other than Claire Lockhart, the commander of the special ops team. Would a woman known for her iron will and tactical brilliance spend hours gathering flowers for fallen soldiers? Had Iyeta lied to ease tensions between them? Hesitating briefly, Tang Fang decided to approach anyway.

“Crunch, crunch…” His boots crunched against the gravel. Claire, thinking it was Iyeta, kept her gaze fixed on the lake. Her voice, softer and gentler than usual, drifted through the night. “Is that you, Iyeta?”

“It’s me.” Tang Fang’s voice came quietly.

Claire turned, surprised to see him. Gone was the icy glare that usually filled her eyes; instead, a complex mix of sorrow, melancholy, and faint longing lingered in her gaze—like the calm, reflective surface of the lake itself.

Moonlight bathed her cascading hair, which flowed over her shoulders like a waterfall, casting a warm, radiant glow. Her hands rested lightly on her chest, fingers still holding the faint fragrance of the White Cloud Flowers.

For a moment, Tang Fang thought he saw a rare bloom—a moonlit beauty (a night-blooming cereus) pushing its way through cracks in the stone, quietly unfurling its tender petals under the nourishment of the night breeze and dew.

Was this really the cold, unyielding officer who had pointed a gun at her companions earlier? Try as he might, he couldn’t reconcile the two images. Yet the familiar uniform, voice, and face confirmed they were indeed the same person.

The Claire before him now was a melancholic young woman burdened with grief, gentle as water, evoking an overwhelming sense of sympathy.

Tang Fang had intended to thank her and leave, but seeing her like this, he unconsciously sat beside her and murmured, “Thank you for the flowers.”

“Hmm…” Claire shook her head, gazing deeply at the center of the lake. Her voice was soft, almost a whisper. “It’s me who should thank you. You saved so many of us.”

Was this really Claire?

The moonlight cast a pale arc across her gaunt face, her long lashes fluttering slightly. Her clear, luminous eyes shimmered like pearls—pure and transparent, like the crystal-clear waters of the lake.

“I know what you’re thinking,” Claire said softly. She drew her knees up, straightened her back slightly, and wrapped her arms around her legs. She looked like a fragile girl trembling under a thunderstorm.

“Do you want to hear a story?”

The Claire before him now was a sorrowful girl weighed down by years of suppressed pain and confusion. What she needed most was someone to listen—to hear her pour out the grievances and uncertainties she’d carried for so long.

Tang Fang nodded. “I’m listening.”

“Twenty-four years ago, a little girl was born on a beautiful planet filled with oceans, lakes, mountains, and plains. She had parents with bright smiles, grandparents who doted on her, a small yard with a lawn, flower beds, and an old banyan tree. And she had a spotted dog named Gigi, who loved licking her nose.”

At this point, Claire suddenly smiled—a radiant, heartwarming smile like a rainbow breaking through storm clouds.

“She was supposed to grow up happy, carefree. But when she was seven, disaster struck her homeland—a planet called Sosia, known for its calming blue seas. A monstrous shadow loomed over the skies, the ocean wept, the wind howled, and rivers ran red with blood… Dad, Mom, Grandpa, Grandma…”

Here, Claire seemed to recall something horrifying. Her body trembled uncontrollably, like a helpless girl standing alone beneath a tree on a rainy night, staring into an empty world.

Tears streamed down her face, falling like strings of pearls onto the polished stones at her feet. “Plop, plop.” Each drop splashed, scattering tiny droplets.

Tang Fang’s heart softened. Unable to resist, he reached out and gently patted her shoulder. “It’s over now. All of it is over…”

He remembered a historical event—the Great Cleansing of Sosia, officially termed the Holy Judgment. Before Colcrav I ascended the throne, he had fought bitterly with his brother, Bartholomew Stuart, for the right to inherit the crown. In the treacherous court intrigues, Colcrav emerged victorious while Bartholomew fell from grace, reduced to being a prince of a distant frontier.

Later, when the old emperor passed away and Colcrav ascended the throne, he relentlessly persecuted Bartholomew, repeatedly reducing the size of his fiefdom until their feud reached a breaking point. When the people of Garcia rose in revolution under the influence of the Charles Federation, the conflict between Bartholomew and Colcrav escalated irreparably.

Following the Garcia uprising, Bartholomew launched a rebellion. Colcrav hastily mobilized his forces to suppress the threat posed by Bartholomew’s insurgents. Eventually, under the combined assault of numerous princes and dukes, Bartholomew was defeated and fled to exile in the Sulru Empire. Enraged, Colcrav vented his fury on the civilians within Bartholomew’s territory, initiating the infamous Great Cleansing of Sosia to set an example and prevent future rebellions.

Anyone who hadn’t escaped—whether commoners, government officials, or minor nobles loyal to Bartholomew—was sent to their deaths. The purge lasted for months, resulting in billions of deaths across Bartholomew’s territories. On Sosia, the capital planet, the population plummeted from 1.3 billion to 500 million. This massacre served as a grim warning to other lords, solidifying Colcrav’s grip on the throne.

To think that Claire was one of the few survivors of the Great Cleansing of Sosia. Tang Fang felt a surge of pity and instinctively moved closer, wrapping his left arm around her shoulders.

Claire’s body trembled slightly, then relaxed. Tang Fang’s hand was thick and warm, reminiscent of her father’s comforting embrace during childhood moments of fear.

“When the fires of war extinguished and the smoke cleared, a starving and freezing little girl collapsed in the ruins. She was rescued by a passing caravan, joining the countless refugees who willingly abandoned their homes to become wanderers among the stars.”

“The man who saved her was Marion—Marion Duncan, a scruffy-faced old man with a kind temper and a love for alcohol.”

“As the girl grew older and wiser, like many survivors of that catastrophe, she vowed to overthrow this corrupt and decadent dynasty and restore peace to Monya.”

“As for the big-bearded man who always drank too much and overslept on important tasks, he consulted with the teenagers who had turned eighteen about their aspirations. He sent some of them to military academies run by the Charles Federation. Among them was the now-grown girl.”

“Four years later, they returned. The once dreamy-eyed girl who loved staring out at the vast starry expanse beyond the window had matured. She resolved to shed her inner fragility, becoming strong, calm, and capable of bearing the heavy burdens on her shoulders.”

“She became a commander, responsible for the lives of hundreds of comrades. At no point could she afford to be weak, retreat, act rashly, or give up lightly. No matter how hard, how tiring, or how heavy the load, she had to carry it herself. Even if her heart bled and her soul cried, she wouldn’t show a trace of weakness in front of others. Everyone else could flee or shrink back, but not her.”

“She had to suppress her vulnerabilities like a man, facing enemies, choices, and death head-on…”

“Do you know? Actually… she’s so tired, so tired. Though it’s only been two years, it feels like a lifetime. How wonderful it would be to fall into a deep sleep…”

Listening to Claire’s voice grow softer and softer, Tang Fang felt as though a needle had pierced the tenderest part of his heart. He realized he had misunderstood her earlier that evening. Beneath her tough exterior lay a heart far more sensitive and fragile than anyone else’s.

As a commander, she had simply forced herself to pretend to be strong.

“Talosal, tell me—do you think we’re doing the right thing? The road to rebellion is strewn with piles of bones. Those who sacrificed, those who died—both friend and foe—they haunt my dreams, shouting, ‘Why… why…?’”

“If it were you, how would you answer?”

Tang Fang looked up at the night sky. Krotan’s two moons hung like mischievous twins, endlessly playing hide-and-seek year after year, day after day.

“Why? So that more people like us can sit quietly by a mountain lake, gaze at a starry sky unmarred by the flash of artillery, and listen to the chirping of insects without the roar of warships.”

For a long while, there was no response. Tang Fang glanced sideways and saw that the tranquil, elegant moonlit beauty had fallen asleep, her head resting gently on his shoulder. A soft breeze brushed strands of her golden hair across her cheek, carrying with it a faint, sweet fragrance.

“Sweet dreams…”

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