Orson Krennic's furious roar reverberated throughout the entire control room. His gaze was sharp as he scanned the staff, each of whom lowered their heads, fearful of provoking even more of his ire.
The tense atmosphere, already strained, became even more suffocating, as if a storm were about to break at any moment.
Seeing this, the communications officer in charge of external contact immediately began manipulating the console in front of them, attempting to bring up the communication interface. However, the screen was filled with static, with various data jumping in disarray, and the information was completely indecipherable.
In that moment, the communications officer's expression became increasingly complex, a mix of deep anxiety and palpable fear etched across their face.
Their hands moved frantically over the console, desperately trying to restore communication, but despite their efforts, the screen remained nothing but a mess of garbled text.
Sweat beaded on their forehead as unease flashed in their eyes.
Krennic's fury was almost palpable; his cold, piercing stare locked onto the communications officer, freezing the room with tension.
Taking a deep breath, the communications officer's face drained of color. Finally, as if resigning to a difficult decision, they spoke, their voice trembling:
"Director, due to enemy interference, we're temporarily unable to contact the outside world."
The words were almost bitten out, filled with helplessness and fear, as though each word weighed a ton.
This statement caused the atmosphere in the control room to freeze, the only sound echoing in everyone's ears being the communications officer's voice.
Upon hearing this, Krennic's eyes blazed with uncontrollable rage.
"What are you all doing?!" His voice almost cracked the air, "Are we just going to sit here helplessly? A bunch of incompetent fools, and you can't even handle communications?!"
"Director... Director!" The communications officer's face turned deathly pale as they stammered, desperate to explain but unable to form coherent words. They could only respond in a shaking voice,
"Even though we've lost contact with the outside, according to procedure, if we fail to submit today's report on time, the Empire will send ships stationed near Scarif to investigate. Moreover, we attempted to send the intel as soon as the attack began. It shouldn't take long before reinforcements arrive."
"Shouldn't take long?!" Krennic's face darkened, his muscles twitching in anger.
He spun around abruptly, his finger pointing at the large screen next to him.
"How long do you think we can hold out?!" Krennic's voice rose, carrying an uncontrollable fury. "Look! Look at the screen! The numbers of our stationed forces are plummeting visibly, and our green zone is being rapidly overtaken by that blinding red!"
His finger was practically stabbing the screen, his tone sharp. "How long do you think we can wait? How long do you think you can wait?"
The communications officer's face went completely white, sweat pouring down their forehead.
As a mere "foot soldier," they couldn't withstand the oppressive aura of a senior officer, their throat tightening and their voice faltering.
Krennic's rage continued to pour forth, each word like a hammer strike to their chests, making the very air feel heavy.
At that moment, Krennic turned toward the control room's exit, his cloak swishing violently as he moved.
Before leaving, he hurled one last command, "This is your preparation? You want to sit back and watch everything crumble while waiting for the Empire's reinforcements? Hold your posts!"
With that, Krennic's figure disappeared from the room, followed by his black-armored death guards. Their steps were heavy and deliberate, the sound of their footfalls echoing ominously through the otherwise empty control room.
The atmosphere in the control room turned chillingly silent, suffused with an eerie calm.
The staff exchanged uneasy glances, unable to fully comprehend what had just transpired.
The usually commanding and authoritative Director, who was known for his unwavering decisions and relentless demands, had just turned and left in the middle of chaos without issuing any further orders?
The senior officers, used to hearing Krennic's orders like thunder and constantly preparing for his scolding, found themselves at a complete loss.
Today, however, the situation left them feeling more vulnerable than ever.
No one dared to speak, and no one knew what to do next.
However, as the seconds ticked by, the senior officers who had briefly held onto hope now began to realize the gravity of the situation.
Krennic's departure had undoubtedly been a signal.
The higher-ups had already made their choice.
The forces stationed both inside and outside the facility, including themselves, had been completely abandoned—pawns with no chance of confronting the mysterious enemy directly.
Their combat ability, equipment, and morale were no match for the invincible onslaught of the enemy.
It didn't take long for several senior officers to exchange looks and, in an unspoken agreement, make the same decision as Krennic: to escape and preserve their lives.
Without hesitation, they quickly gathered their belongings and hurriedly left the control room.
Their departure was swift, almost mechanical, a stark contrast to the tense and chaotic atmosphere that lingered in the room.
Once the senior officers left, the lower-ranking officials remained.
Though they, too, realized the severity of the situation, they could not abandon their posts.
Their faint hope that the higher-ups would handle the crisis had now shattered. They were left facing the brutal reality that the command center was fully out of control, and no one could give effective orders anymore.
The control room was left with only the hollow sound of footsteps and the rapid keystrokes of lower officers, trying to maintain the semblance of order amidst the crumbling system.
But within their eyes was a growing sense of confusion and fear.
Soon, the distant sound of heavy, rhythmic footsteps echoed from the hallway.
Thud, thud!
The sound was like a stone sinking into a lake, its waves rippling outward, growing closer.
Every lower officer in the room felt an overwhelming pressure, as if some invisible force was hovering over them, causing their bodies to tremble uncontrollably.
Then, a ghostly green light began to shine from the surveillance monitors, "tearing" through the atmosphere in the control room.
Several Scourged Children, clad in Titan-powered armor, appeared at the doorway.
Their facemasks were cold and impassive, their eyes glowing a sharp green as they scanned every officer in the room.
The green light from their eyes pierced through each officer's soul, seeming to sense even the smallest shifts in emotion or nervousness.
The Scourged Children moved without haste, their steps measured and deliberate, exuding an aura of relentless coldness and unyielding power.
As they slowly advanced, every second felt like an unspoken judgment for the lower-ranking officers.
Before the Scourged Children could even raise their explosive rifles, a shout rang out:
"Don't shoot!! We surrender!"
"Yes! We surrender!"
The officers, realizing they had been abandoned as pawns, immediately raised their hands in surrender, signaling that they posed no threat.
Seeing this, the Scourged Children didn't seem surprised at all. They maintained their stoic demeanor, standing tall and alert, scanning the room as they remained on guard.
One of the Scourged Children stepped forward with deliberate calm, approaching the control console.
The officer briefly lowered his head to examine the console before reaching behind his helmet and pulling out a strange module.
The module had a peculiar shape—square on the outside but circular within, and in the center, a faint red light pulsed from it.
The Scourged Child slowly placed the module on the console.
As the module made contact with the console, the red light suddenly flared, and then coalesced into the shape of a small figure.
The figure appeared as if from another space, moving lightly and silently, and immediately "slipped" into the console.
With the figure's disappearance, the entire system of the console began to change.
Soon after—
The shrill alarms that had been blaring throughout the facility began to fade, as if the monstrous creature responsible for the sound was dying, unable to make one final cry.
Then, the confused Imperial officers saw something extraordinary happen on their screens.
The garbled text that had filled their monitors cleared up, and the information became crystal clear.
However, to their growing unease, the files crucial to the Empire's fate were rapidly scrolling across the screen, moving so quickly that it was almost impossible to track.
It seemed as though some invisible force—or rather, a program—was continuously browsing and extracting these files.
The officers instinctively opened their mouths, their eyes filled with terror, as their gaze flitted over the screen in disbelief.
In that moment, some of them nearly succumbed to their professional instincts, reaching for the controls to stop the files from leaking.
Fortunately, they quickly regained their composure and restrained their frantic hands.
They had been abandoned... and they had surrendered. They weren't in any position to work.
The module taken by the Scourged Child, along with the figure that "slipped" into the console, was a copy of the 1st Division's smart AI data.
Although the data copy did not possess the same extraordinary abilities as the original, it was more than capable of breaching Scarif's system, transferring files, taking control, and locking in key targets.
Meanwhile, at the southern landing pad of the main facility, Orson Krennic was hurrying with an anxious, tense expression.
The massive Rampart-class shuttle sat before him, its heavy wings resembling the wings of a beast, its doors open and waiting for Krennic to step aboard.
Behind him, a group of death soldiers in black armor followed silently.
Death soldiers were the elite of the elite, carefully selected from the stormtroopers and sent to Scarif's death soldier training camp for even harsher training.
These exceptional soldiers had undergone physical enhancement surgeries, surpassing the physical limits of ordinary stormtroopers, granting them reflexes and strength unimaginable to others.
With advanced weaponry to match, death soldiers were the stuff of nightmares for any enemy.
And Krennic had never doubted their strength, but he wasn't about to hand his life over easily.
Instead of sending them to help the local stormtroopers fight, Krennic preferred to board the shuttle, escape the chaos, and head to Scarif's death soldier training camp, where he would summon more death soldiers and secure his chance to escape.
Truth be told, Krennic knew that his position, power, and reputation would plummet after this, but he didn't care—he just didn't want to die.
As long as he lived, there would always be a chance for a comeback.
If the attacking force at Scarif belonged to the Rebel Alliance, he would have fought with everything he had to destroy them and thwart their plans.
But now, facing enemies that filled him with absolute terror, he couldn't bring himself to consider anything else.
Those towering figures—over two and a half meters tall, their bodies resembling sculptures of steel—Krennic saw them as something beyond human.
In his eyes, they were no longer "people" but rather cold, lethal tools, perhaps a combination of flesh and machine.
The stormtrooper and vehicle defenses were like paper in the face of the Scourged Children, and sending his loyal death soldiers to help was a futile effort.
At that moment, just as Krennic was only ten meters from the shuttle—
Thud, thud, thump!
He heard the sound of something enormous charging toward him. As he turned to look, a blur passed over his head, heading straight for the Rampart-class shuttle.
Boom—!!
The shuttle was crushed by the blur, triggering a violent explosion.
!!!
Krennic was stunned, almost stumbling.
The death soldiers reacted swiftly, rushing forward to open fire on the wreckage of the shuttle.
Whoever or whatever had destroyed the shuttle was about to face their wrath...
------------------
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