Counterfeit Hero

Chapter 1444: Chapter 128: No End

Auben’s prayer stopped abruptly.

He stood, lost and hollow, before the broad semi-circular control console at the command seat.

By his ears, a shrill alarm was suddenly drilling out from some unknown corner, the low sobbing wail rapidly sharpening into a hair-raising screech. At the same time, every electronic instrument on the SkyNet Control Console—radar, energy scanner, fleet coordination system, damage control system—burst into a cacophony of electronic warning tones.

Amid this maddening roar, the Command Room flared into sudden brightness.

The electronic lights studding the ceiling paled before the burst of brilliance from the viewports. It was practically a bolt of lightning, slashing open this enclosed space and tearing at everyone’s retinas—the entire warship was engulfed by the Energy Cannon barrage.

The massive hull of the Space Carrier Supreme Glory was shaking violently, like a tiny skiff rolling on the crest of a towering Giant Wave. Bursts of white explosion light rose and fell across the hull; the energy shield was like a pond under a storm, trembling, sending out layer upon layer of ripples. Wings, outer armor plating, external instruments shattered in the cannon fire, flinging off in all directions. Crewmen were hurled into the air, slammed into corridor bulkheads and the SkyNet Control Console, or pitched over railings... screams and wails overlapped without end.

Auben fought desperately to steady himself, and by instinct looked out through the forward-left viewport of the Command Room.

A Feiyang Fighter tumbled past his field of view, carving an S-shaped curve in the void as it locked onto a Jiepeng Fighter that hadn’t yet had time to build up speed.

Dozens of Energy Bullets from its light-chain-like energy machine gun swept across; the Jiepeng Fighter turned into a single blossoming spark in the void.

That spark stabbed at Auben’s eyes. As the glare faded, he saw thousands of Feiyang Fighters, like countless moths suddenly swarming through the bedroom window of his own home. They were threading at high speed through the corridors between warships, tumbling or gliding, weaving flight paths so dazzling they made the eyes blur.

The fleet’s dense anti-aircraft fire, rather than driving them away, looked more like accompanying their dance.

Each time they skimmed past a warship’s flank, a string of explosion flashes leapt eagerly from the hull, like fire sprites chasing at their tails—shooting far out in an instant, then falling back into silence.

The neat Battleship Main Formation was already in chaos. Ship after ship was being crippled and torn apart in violent blasts. Some vessels, having lost control, slewed sideways, slowly drifting into neighboring friendly ships. Others spun out of formation on one side, immediately dropping far behind, lonely and helpless as they were subjected to wave after wave of Feiyang Fighters’ destruction.

Blood drained swiftly from his face and lips; Auben’s complexion turned deathly pale.

”General!” Yamamoto called.

”Keep the formation stable,” Auben said slowly. ”Battleships shift into circular defensive formation and shield the carrier in the center. Open all catapult channels and accelerate fighter launch. Order Lightning Falcon squadron, Black-winged Kite squadron, Black Shoulder Kite squadron, Gray Song Eagle squadron to break off entanglements, advance at maximum speed, and forcibly strike the enemy Battleship Main Formation’s flank.”

”We still have a chance!” Auben turned to Yamamoto beside him, who looked as if his soul had fled, and spoke, enunciating each word: ”Also, send a communication signal to the other side. I want to know who he is!”

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”The enemy is accelerating fighter launch.” Margaret looked toward Fatty. Her spring-clear green eyes held a glint of affection and irrepressible pride.

”They have six carriers; we only have three.” Fatty stared at the tactical computer, fingers flickering as he ran simulations, then bared his teeth in a grin. ”In theory, even if they lose sixty percent of their fighters during launch, they can still force our fighter cluster to abandon its attack on their warships. However...”

”However, now that we’ve seen through it, they have no chance. The question now is,” Fatty raised his head, leaned back against the chair, and looked up at the main SkyNet screen, ”do we go left, or right?!”

Left or right... every General on the command platform felt their heart jolt hard.

By this stage of the battle, the situation couldn’t be clearer.

Back when the fleet was passing through the obstacle zone, Fatty had already ordered fighters released. The thick cosmic dust and the asteroid belt provided those fighters with a natural concealment belt. Thereafter—during both the missile strikes and the fleet melee—the Bandit Army Fleet’s Battleship Main Formation never moved more than eight thousand kilometers beyond the obstacle zone. It kept a constant one-bright-one-dark pincer stance with the ambushed fighter cluster.

This was a card Auben had never imagined, no matter what.

You must understand: in space warfare, fighter clusters usually operate only around their carriers. In high-intensity dogfights they don’t exceed a radius of six thousand kilometers; in pursuit actions, they still cannot range more than a hundred thousand kilometers from the carrier.

This distance is determined by fighter energy loadouts, survival supplies for pilots, and the rate of component wear during high-intensity operations. Beyond this range, carrier support for resupply and electronic command begins to degrade.

Without timely replenishment of energy ammo, without maintenance and pilot rotation, without detailed intel support and unified coordination, the combat capability of a fighter cluster is easy enough to imagine.

Thus, for the Bandit Army Fleet, releasing fighters early and maintaining only several thousand kilometers of separation from them was a gamble.