Otaku Translation: Carrying the Bases of Starcraft C156

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Chapter 156: Finally, Some Perks

“Hsssss…” Lieutenant Colonel Gibbon sucked in a sharp breath. Battleship-grade cannons mounted on tanks? Where the hell had these monstrosities come from? The intel said nothing about heavy armor—just infantry! So why was this nightmare unfolding?

Poor Gibbon Daler felt like he’d swallowed two bitter pills. His entire being was steeped in regret and despair.

“Liaison officer, contact the garrison forces and demand an explanation!” He barked, then turned to the air corps commander over the communicator. “Deploy the attack drones, the helicopters, and those Raptor strike fighters outside the city. Take out those ten tanks at all costs!”

“Yes, sir.”

A minute later, a combined aerial assault team consisting of six helicopters, twenty-four unmanned attack drones, and nine Raptor strike fighters converged on the enemy tank position from all directions.

Pew-pew-pew! A hail of bullets erupted from the marines stationed at the frontlines, peppering the skies as the aircraft roared overhead. Eight drones, two helicopters, and one Raptor were struck, spiraling out of control before crashing into the ruins below, exploding in fiery balls of destruction.

Still, the main force managed to get through. The air corps commander exhaled in relief, ready to order the remaining aircraft to strike when something unexpected happened. A dark blur shot up from the factory ruins, moving faster than lightning. It slammed with pinpoint accuracy into a diving Raptor.

Kaboom! The northern sky lit up in a blinding flash as a mushroom cloud billowed outward. Ten drones and five Raptors caught in the blast were sent spinning backward like birds caught in a hurricane, plummeting to the ground in flames.

The remaining four helicopters, six drones, and three Raptors met their demise just seven seconds later, exploding into twisted heaps of molten metal.

“Hydrogen bombs… small-yield hydrogen bombs… where did they even come from?” The air corps commander collapsed into his seat, utterly defeated, as Gibbon’s enraged screams echoed through the command vehicle.

Boom, boom, boom! Plasma orbs rained down once more, turning the battlefield into sheer chaos. Soldiers screamed in agony, while junior officers shouted futile commands over the comms. Charred bodies littered the ground, their flesh sizzling under the relentless heat. The nauseating stench of burning meat mingled with choking smoke, saturating the air.

This was suicide. The marauders and marines defending the forward positions were now within sight—but to the frontline troops, the 200-meter distance might as well have been the gap between hell and heaven: unreachable, unattainable.

Then, suddenly, the plasma bombardment ceased. From the factory ruins emerged soldiers clad in unfamiliar powered armor, closing in on the vehicle groups with terrifying speed. Their triggers clicked relentlessly, cutting down infantry one by one.

Behind them came hulking juggernauts armed with flamethrowers. Streams of fire spewed forth from their arms, creating cascading walls of flame that rolled across the battlefield. The searing plasma melted armor plating, flooding into gaps and incinerating drivers alive.

Desperate cries filled the comms as Gibbon stared blankly at the carnage on the monitors. Fire… everywhere there was fire. Flames from the Hellions, flames from the flamethrowers, flames from Judicator grenades detonating against armored vehicles…

Whoosh-boom-boom! Massive plasma orbs arced over the tank line, landing squarely among missile launchers and artillery units. Superheated plasma splattered everywhere, tearing apart the support formations like a watermelon bursting open. Soldiers leapt from their operator cabins, fleeing in panic as explosions ripped through their ranks.

The plasma cannons hadn’t stopped firing—they’d simply shifted targets, threatening the rear echelons of the 2nd Brigade.

“Colonel, we need to retreat! If we don’t pull back now, we’ll be wiped out!” Deputy Commander Franklin Lester burst into the command vehicle, shouting at the dazed lieutenant colonel.

Gibbon turned mechanically toward him. “Retreat?”

“Yes! What other choice do we have? We can’t stop them—bullets can’t penetrate their armor, missiles can’t lock on, and our air support is useless. At this rate, it won’t take long for morale to collapse completely. Gibbon, give the order!”

“Oh… oh…” Reality hit Gibbon like a ton of bricks. Grabbing the communicator, he bellowed, “Retreat! All units of the 2nd Brigade, fall back to the Brave Bastion defense line!”

With the order given, junior officers on the frontlines scrambled to obey, shouting “Fall back!” as they turned tail and fled.

The retreat turned into a rout. No matter how many orders came down the chain, the rear units couldn’t organize an effective withdrawal. Fear had seeped deep into the soldiers’ bones. Escape was the only thought left in their minds.

In just over twenty minutes, a mechanized infantry brigade of 2,000 men had lost nearly half its strength. Dozens of armored vehicles lay smoldering as wreckage or pools of molten steel. Craters and flames stretched across nearly a kilometer of the battlefield, while thick smoke and the stench of death hung heavy in the air.

From behind cover, Housen popped up, glancing casually at the retreating forms of the 2nd Brigade’s vehicles. He gave a quick once-over to the steel hull of a nearby Hellion. “Ha-ha-ha-ha! That was satisfying, wasn’t it?”

A group of nurses approached from the rear, tending to injured marines. Thin beams of light emitted from medical modules on their wrist armor, healing wounds rapidly. Under the influence of nanobots, bloodied injuries closed up, scars faded, and even damaged power armor was restored to pristine condition.

“What… what is this? Are you kidding me?” Housen’s eyes widened. “Medics? Power armor repair specialists?”

A sultry voice crackled over the comms. “The doctor is in!” One medic hopped out of cover, rushing to treat a flamethrower soldier whose armor had sustained minor damage. A quick zap of the healing beam, and his CMC-660 suit gleamed as good as new.

“Wo-women?” Housen swallowed hard, looking like he’d seen a ghost.

“You rang?” A medic approached him, scanning him up and down. “Congratulations! You're my first patient. Ever. Please state the nature of your medical emergency?”

“I… I…” Housen found himself oddly flustered.

The medic aimed her light at him. “Ah, stimulant side effects. Drop your pants—don’t worry, if I do this wrong it'll hurt a little. If I do this right, it'll hurt a lot.”

As she spoke, two inch-long steel needles popped out of the wrist armor of her CMC-405 suit, gleaming menacingly.

“For-forget it! I’ll recover on my own,” Housen stammered, quickly stepping aside.

“Hey, don’t run away…”

“Tang Fang?! What are you doing bringing women onto the battlefield?!” Housen shouted into the communicator.

“What? Aren’t you happy? Forgot to mention—they’re not just medics. They’ve got another talent: surprise striptease performances. Interested?”

“OH, SHIT.” Housen froze for a moment, then burst into uncontrollable laughter. “Holy crap, after working with you for so long, finally some perks!”

On the other end, Tang Fang sighed. “…You’re hopeless.”

“How long has it been since you cleaned your power armor, Housen?” Arroz chimed in unexpectedly.

“Why are you asking that?” Housen frowned.

“I’m worried you’ll scare off the ladies with your stink, ha-ha-ha-ha!” Clearly, Arroz was in high spirits. Presumably, the government forces on his side had also retreated, tails tucked, back to Brave Bastion.

Housen’s face flushed red. “M-mind your own damn business!”

On the other side, Tang Fang couldn’t help but chuckle. Arroz’s jab was downright cruel—and hilariously accurate.

…

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