When the Theater Command issued its orders, intelligence regarding the Pluto Fleet potentially possessing a T5-Class Carrier had been marked by the staff departments as "doubtful" or "exaggerated."
After all, strategic projection platforms like Aircraft Carriers were typically allocated only to higher-tier "mother" fleets or elite forces in core star sectors. How could a newly established border defense sub-fleet possibly merit such assets?
Jenkins himself was skeptical, even suspecting it might be a decoy released by the Federation or an exaggerated excuse fabricated by Obsidian to cover their failures.
But now, the overwhelming and astonishingly large Fighter Group surging toward him shattered his last shred of hope.
Only a professional stellar carrier—possibly more than one—could deploy and command such a massive group of craft at once!
This wasn't just an additional method of attack; it meant the enemy possessed battlefield control capability, sustained strike capability, and tactical flexibility far beyond that of a conventional sub-fleet!
"Damn it! The intelligence department bastards should all be court-martialed!"
Jenkins slammed his fist hard against the nearby control console, producing a dull thud. The pain in his knuckles was nothing compared to the frustration and chill in his heart.
To withstand those four heavy particle cannon barrages, he had already ordered the fleet to concentrate and expend a wave of Shield Energy. Many warships' shields were now in a low-energy recovery period or had outright entered overload cooldown.
Against the artillery of Capital Ships, thick armor might still hold out for a while, but facing these agile, lethal Space Fighters specifically targeting weak points...
"All vessels! Cease partial firepower suppression on the enemy's main force! Activate all close-in defense systems! Laser point defense, dense arrays—form a crossfire network! Destroyers and Escort Ships, advance and use your anti-air firepower to protect heavily damaged ships and the Flagship!"
Jenkins practically roared the commands, his voice distorted by urgency.
"Accelerate! Don't stop! Keep charging toward Neva Star! We only have a chance if we reach the planetary defense perimeter!"
However, the urgency of his orders stood in cruel contrast to the speed at which the Fighter Group closed in.
The "Swift" fighter craft had already begun dispersing into formation, approaching from varying altitudes and angles.
Like sharks scenting blood, they dove toward the Megalodon Fleet's dim shields and exposed armor—targeting their wounds.
Jenkins felt a profound sense of powerlessness.
He had initially believed this to be a support battle with superior forces, even fantasizing about crushing that Federation upstart named Qin Beiwang with his own hands.
But now, his fleet hadn't even fully confronted the enemy before being struck by a sneak attack, followed by a close-range assault from the Fighter Group.
An enemy with an Aircraft Carrier and one without were entirely different concepts.
At this moment, he truly understood the despair previously felt by Obsidian and Iron Curtain.
Jenkins' orders were issued, but under the storm-like assault of the "Swift" Fighter Group, execution became exceptionally difficult and came at a grievous cost.
The Megalodon Fleet's attempt to form an anti-aircraft fire net proved utterly inadequate and riddled with gaps against over eight hundred state-of-the-art T5 fighters.
Thump-thump-thump-thump-thump—!
Point defense cannons roared frantically, weaving a metal storm in a desperate attempt to shield the warships.
But the Swift fighters maneuvered through it like phantoms.
They climbed sharply, dove into rolls, and used enemy ship wreckage as cover, always finding attack paths through the intercepting barrage.
"Target locked, firing!"
A pilot's calm voice echoed over the encrypted channel.
A fusion missile detached from a Swift's wing pylon, trailing flames as it skirted the final barrage at an acute angle and slammed into the engine nozzle of an Imperial Destroyer's stern.
Amid a thunderous explosion, the destroyer lost power and began spinning helplessly.
Another Swift fired rapid bursts from its pulse laser cannon, precisely detonating several anti-aircraft missiles just launched by a cruiser. Useless fireworks bloomed above the hull, clearing the way for follow-up allies.
More fighters swarmed like bloodthirsty insects, singling out ships with failed or critically weakened shields.
They skimmed past warship superstructures, using autocannons and light missiles to shred turrets, radar arrays, and communication antennas.
An Imperial Cruiser, harassed by multiple fighters in succession, had its broadside weapon systems completely destroyed. Billowing smoke transformed it into a floating steel coffin.
Explosions flared one after another within the Megalodon Fleet's formation.
Destroyers splintered under direct missile hits; cruisers trailed black smoke, their hulls riddled with holes; fragile reconnaissance ships became easy targets, often obliterated in a single strafing run.
Each expanding fireball sent a jolt through Jenkins' heart aboard the flagship Abyssal Fang's bridge.
These weren't cold statistics—they were ships he had nurtured, crew who trusted him and warped here under his command! Watching them being picked off like lambs for slaughter, powerlessness and fury seared his insides.
"Accelerate!
Ignore those fighters!
If we reach Neva Star, we'll—"
He tried to rally morale over the communication channel, his voice betraying an unnoticed hoarseness.
Before he could finish—
Boom! Boom-boom-boom!
A series of not particularly violent but intensely concentrated explosions suddenly erupted in the airspace ahead of the fleet's vanguard—the Black Shark assault fleet!
The lead lightweight reconnaissance ships, as if colliding with an invisible, spike-studded wall, detonated without warning.
Some had their bows shattered; others suffered ruptured engine compartments, tumbling out of control.
Then, several destroyers following closely met the same fate—flares bursting beneath their hulls or along their broadsides, armor torn open to expose internal structures.
"Report!
Commander!
The forward airspace... is saturated with high-density trip mines!
It's a smart sensor minefield!
Coverage is extensive!"
The Black Shark fleet commander's voice was thick with despair and panic, his flagship shuddering violently from a nearby mine detonation.
"We've entered a minefield! The reconnaissance ships are finished!"
A minefield!
A chill shot from Jenkins' feet to his skull, his vision momentarily darkening.
Not only had the enemy accurately predicted their warp point, laying in ambush with the main fleet and carrier-based fighter craft, but they had even preemptively deployed such a massive intelligent minefield along their only escape route!
These booby-trapped mines were small in size with faint signals, blending into the cosmic background radiation and asteroid dust. Post-standard jump scans could hardly fully identify them in advance while traveling at high speeds!
Ahead lay an invisible death mine array, while behind them, the relentless Pluto main fleet and the clinging "Swift" fighter group pursued like maggots on rotting flesh...
A hopeless situation.
Utterly and completely hopeless.
Jenkins opened his mouth, only to find himself momentarily unable to issue any effective command.
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