The initial shock and despair felt like ice water poured over his head, but Jenkins had not climbed to the position of Fleet Commander through bravery alone.
The extreme crisis acted like a bucket of cold water, instantly dousing the panic and searing pain in his heart.
All that remained was the near-ruthless clarity forged by a veteran of the battlefield.
He stared fixedly at the airspace ahead, which had just devoured the vanguard reconnaissance ship and now appeared deceptively calm yet teeming with lethal threats.
He glanced at the rear screen, where the Swift fighter group was continuously whittling away at their forces, and the Pluto main fleet was readjusting its formation, preparing to press forward.
Time.
They were most lacking in time.
Use the Main Cannons to bombard the minefield?
Too inefficient, a waste of time, and a drain on precious energy.
Use Close-in Firepower to pick off obstacles?
A drop in the bucket; against such a dense smart minefield, it would be nothing but a fool's dream.
A brutal yet the only viable plan rapidly took shape in his mind, cold and clear.
"Orders!"
Jenkins' voice regained its usual roughness and decisiveness, even colder than usual.
His words cut through the various screams and chaos in the communication channel caused by the mine detonations.
"All reconnaissance ships and light destroyers, advance immediately!
At standard cruising speed, follow the current course, deploy in a fan-shaped formation!
Your mission is to detect and clear a passage through the minefield!"
The command was clearly conveyed. After a brief silence, came the suppressed, trembling confirmations.
"Repeat!"
Jenkins added, his gaze sweeping over the identifiers of the ships about to be pushed to the forefront, his voice unwavering.
"For the main force of the fleet, for the honor of the Empire.
Heavier vessels, follow the paths of the forward ships, maintain a safe distance.
All firepower, prioritize intercepting enemy fighters from the rear and any incoming fire, buy time for the forward ships!"
This was about using the hulls of light vessels to forcibly carve out a path!
The few remaining reconnaissance ships and two relatively intact destroyers of the "Black Shark" fleet were the first to execute the order.
The glow from their engines seemed so dim, like moths drawn to a flame, as they altered course, accelerated again, and plunged into the airspace that had just erupted with flames of death.
The first reconnaissance ship advanced for less than twenty seconds.
Boom!
A burst of fire erupted violently beneath its hull; a smart trip mine, sensing the approach of metal mass, instantly detonated.
The fragile belly of the reconnaissance ship was torn open, breaking into two sections.
Almost simultaneously, the bow of another destroyer on the flank triggered a proximity mine; the explosion directly blew off its forward turret and part of its armor, sending the hull spinning out of control.
But with their sacrifice, they marked two boundaries of death for their comrades behind them.
"Second echelon, follow up!
Fill the gaps, widen the passage!"
Jenkins' voice grated like steel.
More light vessels advanced silently, exploring, triggering mines, and exploding along the narrow, twisted "safe" edges bought with their comrades' lives.
Boom! Boom! Boom!
Each explosion meant the destruction of an Imperial Starship, the instantaneous demise of dozens, even hundreds, of Imperial officers and crew.
Those brilliant or dull flashes of light bloomed one after another in the dark starry sky, cruelly outlining an escape path paved with steel and flesh.
Jenkins clenched his fists, his nails nearly digging into his palms, his knuckles turning white.
He forced himself not to watch the moments when the ship identifiers dimmed, not to imagine the fear and confusion of his subordinates in their final moments.
His face showed no expression, only a tense jawline and eyes as cold as the abyss.
"To sacrifice oneself for the Empire is the highest honor of a soldier."
He repeated this maxim, passed down through the Imperial military, over the internal communication channel, his voice dry and strained.
It was both a consolation to those who had gone to their deaths and a forceful suppression of the last trace of wavering in his own heart.
The main fleet—the Battleships, Cruisers, and still-combat-ready heavy Destroyers—followed silently and cautiously behind these "pathfinders," who had carved out a winding passage with their lives, pushing their speed to the safe limit.
Watching one light vessel after another turn into fireballs in the minefield, the winding passage forged with lives grew clearer and clearer.
The pursuing main force of the Pluto Fleet, as expected, slowed its advance due to the minefield obstruction, forced to rely on "Swift" fighter craft for harassment.
In Jenkins' heart, chilled and weighed down by heavy losses, a flicker of relief at having survived the ordeal emerged, along with an almost instinctive mockery of the enemy commander's tactical oversight.
"Hah!"
He stared at the "path of life" paved with death on the Tactical Screen, then glanced at the blue cursor lagging behind in the minefield, a grim, twisted smile of pain and scorn pulling at the corner of his mouth.
"This minefield trapped us, but it also became our talisman!
That kid named Qin is still too green!
He only thought to use the minefield to hinder our advance, but didn't realize it would also impede his own main force's pursuit!"
A more sinister thought surfaced.
Since the minefield could block the pursuers, why not make it even more impenetrable?
"Order all Cruisers and Destroyers in the rear to immediately deploy their mobile trip mines!"
Jenkins' voice carried a ruthless, desperate edge.
"Lay them densely along both sides of the passage we just carved out, especially at the rear entrance!
Seal this 'path' shut completely!
I want those annoying 'Swifts' and their Capital Ships to gaze at the mines in despair!"
The remaining Imperial Cruisers and some Destroyers turned their sterns, opening their specialized mine deployment ports. One disc-shaped smart mobile trip mine after another was ejected.
These small mine devices possessed weak propulsion capabilities, quickly dispersing and silently drifting to the edges and rear areas of the passage, merging with the previously laid minefield—even becoming denser.
Watching the minefield schematic, where the "safe passage" they had just traversed was rapidly re-covered and thickened with new red danger markers, the sting in Jenkins' heart from sacrificing his subordinates seemed replaced by a twisted sense of satisfaction at having "turned the tables."
He even muttered to himself on the Bridge, as if lecturing his unseen opponent.
"A twenty-two-year-old graduate...
Might be impressive on paper, but on the real battlefield, tricks and luck alone aren't enough.
If the opponent were a seasoned veteran, they'd surely be waiting for me at the minefield exit, attacking from both front and rear—that would be the true checkmate."
"What a pity, young man. You're still a bit green, too focused on interception and forgot to block the exit."
He could already picture the Pluto Fleet trapped by the reinforced minefield, forced to watch helplessly as they fled toward Neva Star.
Once they reached the planetary defense perimeter, relying on orbital batteries and ground firepower, he could regroup and recover...
However, this blood-tinged relief and sense of superiority did not last long.