"Boom—!!"
The second ship.
The third ship.
The fourth ship.
Explosions erupted one after another within the formation of those eight hundred Civilian-converted Military ships.
Only at this moment did they truly realize.
This was a battlefield.
They were truly on a battlefield.
At this moment, on a modified Starship.
Arnold crouched on the floor, head in his hands, his body trembling violently.
He kept repeating one phrase, his voice hoarse and choked with sobs.
"I want to go home..."
"I want to go home..."
"I don't want to be captain anymore! I quit!"
His tears and snot mixed together, streaming down his cheeks and dripping onto the cold metal floor.
The crew around him watched, their expressions extremely complex.
Some lowered their heads, not daring to look at him.
Some bit their lips, their eyes flickering.
Some stared out the Viewport at the exploding Friendly Ships, their faces as pale as paper.
The atmosphere on the Bridge grew increasingly tense.
Those gazes began to hold something strange.
It was wavering, fear, mixed with an impulse to flee.
A star police sensed the shift in the atmosphere.
He abruptly raised his gun, aiming it at the crew.
"What do you think you're doing?"
His voice exploded across the Bridge, carrying a hysterical sharpness.
"Planning to disobey orders?"
The crew flinched back a step, frightened by the gun barrel.
No one spoke.
But those flickering eyes remained unsettled.
Another star police strode over to Arnold, grabbed him by the collar, and hauled him up from the floor.
Arnold stared at him in terror, tears still flowing.
"I... I really quit... let me go..."
The star police didn't answer.
He swung his fist, smashing it hard into Arnold's face.
"Thud!"
The punch was powerful.
Arnold was thrown backward by the blow, crashing heavily to the floor.
Half his face instantly swelled, blood trickling from the corner of his mouth onto the front of his uniform.
He lay sprawled on the floor, gasping for breath, letting out pained groans.
The star police drew his sidearm from the holster at his waist, pointing the barrel at Arnold's head.
A blue light gathered at the muzzle.
The glow grew brighter and brighter.
As if in the next second, the beam could pierce through his forehead.
The star police's voice was icy, devoid of any emotion.
"Continue forward."
He paused, then sneered.
"Or, I'll execute you right now."
Arnold lay on the floor, staring at that dark, gaping muzzle, his pupils contracting violently.
His lips moved.
Wanting to say something.
But nothing came out.
He just lay there, trembling all over like an abandoned dog.
A deathly silence filled the Bridge.
Only the hum of energy gathering at the gun barrel.
"Forward."
A voice suddenly spoke, not loud, yet clear enough for everyone to hear.
"Charge the Federation Fleet."
Everyone turned to look.
Brooks stood at the Bridge entrance, still wearing that crumpled, torn crew uniform, half his face swollen, dried blood at the corner of his mouth.
But the look in his eyes was completely different from before.
There was no fear in that gaze, no despair, only an indescribable, icy calm.
The star police officer was stunned.
He looked at the gun in his hand, then at Brooks.
Then he smiled.
That smile held a trace of surprise, and a trace of appreciation.
"It seems the old captain is still the smart one."
He holstered his gun and waved to the other two star police officers.
The three of them took a few steps back, clearing the space in the center of the Bridge.
"From now on, command is yours."
Brooks nodded.
He didn't look at the star police officers again.
Instead, he walked straight to the Command Console and stood in the spot where Arnold had just been standing.
Brooks's gaze swept over every person on the Bridge.
Those crew members, those old subordinates he had led for years, were now looking at him.
In their eyes, there was surprise, confusion, and a faint trace of expectation.
Brooks took a deep breath.
Then he spoke, his voice steady, carrying an unquestionable authority.
"All hands, return to stations."
He paused, then continued.
"Prepare for combat."
The crew froze for a second.
Then someone moved first.
He quickly walked to his Combat Station, sat down at the Control Console, and began checking the instruments.
A second.
A third.
Everyone moved.
On the Bridge, that deathly, despairing silence was replaced by a quiet, focused bustle.
Arnold stood in place, holding his swollen cheek, watching Brooks.
His lips moved.
He uttered a whisper so soft it was almost inaudible.
"Brother-in-law..."
Brooks turned his head and looked at him.
"As for you."
He spoke, his voice calm.
"Go to the close-in defense laser cannon position."
Arnold was stunned.
The close-in defense laser cannon position?
Those cannons were temporarily welded onto the surface of the hull.
No reinforcement, no protection, their connection to the hull was fundamentally unstable.
If they suffered a violent impact, the entire Turret could detach.
And those gun positions were the primary targets for the fighter craft.
Every Federation fighter craft that charged in would make clearing out any close-in defense cannons that dared to fire their first priority.
Going there meant what?
Arnold's face instantly turned deathly pale.
His lips trembled, wanting to say something.
"Shoot down those damned Federation fighter craft."
Brooks's voice continued, terrifyingly calm.
"All of them."
Arnold still wanted to say something more, but seeing the star police officer's hand move towards the sidearm at his waist...
He ultimately accepted his fate.
He obediently walked towards the location of the close-in defense laser cannon position.
Meanwhile, as they were struggling...
The formation of the eight hundred Civilian-converted Military ships had completely fallen into disarray.
The Swift fighter group darted between the ship clusters like hummingbirds, missiles and lasers pouring in from every direction.
Every second, a Starship was hit; every second, explosions of fire erupted.
But what was truly deadly, besides the Federation's Firepower, was themselves.
A modified cargo ship, while trying to Evade a missile, had completely lost its sense of direction.
Its captain was a civilian ship captain who had just been conscripted; the most complex maneuver he'd ever performed in his life was entering and leaving a port.
Now, staring at the red alert on his screen growing larger and closer, his mind went blank.
"Hard to Port!" someone shouted.
He turned the helm to port.
But it was too late.
The missile had already struck.
The explosion's fire erupted on the side of the hull. Although it didn't pierce the Armor, the Shockwave caused the entire ship to lurch violently.
It was out of control.
Spinning, it crashed into a friendly ship that was also evading nearby.
"No!!"
The two ships collided violently in the void.
Laser turrets on the hulls, along with the people inside, were crushed.
Immediately after, the hulls twisted, armor tore apart, and compartments were flattened into iron discs.
The blaze of a sympathetic detonation erupted from the point of impact, engulfing both ships and everyone on board.
In another airspace, a civilian ship that had just been equipped with a close-in defense laser cannon finally seized an opportunity.