Lowell sneered, his tone filled with disdain for the Federation hero.
"In my opinion, that Qin Bei Wang is nothing more than a beneficiary relying on his Marshal father's connections, just lucky enough to pick up a few achievements.
He's no different in essence from some of those in our Empire who rose through family influence!
Rather than worrying about such a far-fetched attack..."
He paused, his tone shifting to one of perfunctory concern.
"...you'd be better off having everyone keep their eyes wide open and pay attention to those randomly drifting meteoroids and asteroid fragments around our course.
The probability of colliding with them is far greater than encountering the Federation Fleet."
Lieutenant Holden listened to Lowell's extremely biased and lax remarks, his frown deepening.
He despised this kind of arrogance based on background and even more resented such underestimation of the enemy during a mission.
But he was just a small Escort Ship captain, while Lowell was not only the transport Commander but also had a family with considerable influence in the Empire's naval logistics system.
He could only suppress his displeasure and said in a low voice.
"Lieutenant Lowell, caution is never a mistake.
This is space; anything can happen.
All ships, continue executing alert procedures."
However, his order seemed feeble and powerless under the relaxed atmosphere created by Lowell.
On the escorting Escort Ships, many on-duty personnel still appeared lazy, and sensor scans remained at routine levels.
They firmly believed this was the Empire's absolutely safe backyard.
The Federation Fleet? That was a term that only appeared on the front lines several star systems away.
Qin Bei Wang and his Pluto?
They were merely background elements that would eventually be crushed under the Empire's iron heel.
Not long after Lieutenant Lowell's scornful teasing words fell—
"Woo—!!!"
A piercing, shrill Friend-or-Foe Identification Alarm suddenly blared simultaneously on the bridges of all three Escort Ships!
Crimson warning lights spun frantically, illuminating every face that instantly drained of color, making them look like ghosts.
"Report! Multiple unidentified high-speed mass reactions suddenly appeared at close range, port side seven o'clock! They are approaching rapidly!"
The sensor operator's voice was distorted by extreme terror.
"Energy signature scan... confirmed!
They are Federal Starship models!
Numbers... at least eight! No, more!"
Another officer nearly shouted, his eyes fixed on the cluster of light dots that had suddenly surged onto the screen, charging forward in an attack formation.
"What? Federal Starships? That's impossible!"
Lieutenant Lowell sprang up from the Command Chair as if his tail had been stepped on, the laziness and arrogance on his face instantly shattered, replaced only by extreme shock and disbelief.
He rushed to the monitoring screen, staring at those signals clearly marked as hostile red, his mind blank.
"This is... this is the Bushman Star System!
The Empire's heartland!
What are those idiots in the Early Warning Department doing!
How did so many Federal Starships infiltrate? Is their surveillance network made of paper?!
And the Patrol Team!
Where the hell are they?!"
Extreme shock rapidly transformed into violent rage, Lowell cursed incoherently as if he could dispel the nightmare before him with words alone.
However, reality would not change because of curses.
The red dots representing Federation assault ships were rapidly enlarging on the tactical screen. The enemy clearly had no intention of hiding or negotiating, heading straight for the heart of the transport fleet with unmistakable purpose!
"Lieutenant Lowell! Calm down!"
At the critical moment, the roar of the escort fleet commander, Lieutenant Holden, cut through the alarms and curses. His face showed no trace of panic, only the resolve of a soldier facing a crisis.
"Execute emergency protocols immediately!"
Holden's orders were clear, rapid, and brooked no argument.
"Lieutenant Lowell!
Order all your transport ships to initiate emergency pressure release immediately, evacuate all fuel from the cargo holds!
By any means necessary, reduce mass now!"
"Turn! Maximum emergency thrust, retreat toward the nearest Rock-7 Unmanned Outpost!"
"Communications officer!"
He whirled toward his subordinate.
"Transmit a Highest Priority emergency enemy contact report immediately!"
"Content: Our Silver Shuttle-7 Transport Squadron on the Abuja Energy Route, coordinates: [BSM (Bushman Star System)-185.358, 45.189, 32.653 (three-dimensional coordinates), V+18.72 (Stellar Motion Correction Value kilometers per second)]
Under Surprise Attack by Federation Fleet!
Enemy strength: 8 Starships, identified as high-speed models!
Transport ships conducting emergency evacuation, urgent support required!"
"Simultaneously, using my ship commander authority, transmit emergency distress signals to the Bushman Star System Garrison Command and all online Empire Patrol Fleets in this sector!
Repeat transmission until receipt is confirmed or our signal is lost!"
"Weapons officer! All ship cannons charge, Point Defense Systems to full activation!
Concentrate shield energy to the bow!
Prepare to intercept potential enemy missile launches!"
"Entire fleet, combat formation! Escort ships advance, buy time for the transport ships to turn!
Even if you have to block with your hulls, hold the line!"
The rapid-fire string of commands was like ice water poured over their heads, giving the chaotic Empire transport squadron a shaky sense of direction.
The piercing shriek of pressure release alarms sounded aboard the transport ships. Emergency valves on the cargo holds storing precious fuel were forced open.
Hundreds of thousands of tons of high-purity fusion fuel, like black blood, were mercilessly jettisoned into the icy void, forming a briefly spreading mist band.
It served both to reduce mass and, hopefully, to cause some minor disruption to the pursuers.
The cumbersome transport ships groaned with the strain of overburdened metal, beginning to turn and accelerate in a clumsy, panicked manner under the push of their emergency thrusters.
The three aging escort ships, without hesitation, swung their bows around, pointing their relatively vulnerable fronts toward the oncoming Federation assault ship group. Their shield glows flared brightly, and turrets began to rotate and charge.
Blinding distress calls and enemy contact reports transformed into streams of encrypted radio waves, piercing the false tranquility of the Bushman Star System at that moment, shooting out in all directions.
Lieutenant Lowell slumped pale-faced in his chair, watching the rapidly approaching silhouettes of the Federation ships outside, then glancing through the viewport at the cloud of precious fuel he had personally ordered jettisoned, now rapidly dispersing.
His lips trembled. The previous arrogance and mockery were utterly gone, replaced only by boundless fear and a sense of absurdity.
The Federation Fleet… had really come.
Right in the heartland the Empire believed to be absolutely secure.
And their small transport convoy became the first prey, the first spark to ignite the defense alarm across the entire Bushman Star System.
Lieutenant Holden stared intently at the tactical screen, his fingers clenched until they turned white.
He knew that with three aging escort ships against at least eight premeditated, swift Federation elite assault ships, the odds of victory were slim.
All he could do now was delay, to broadcast the news of the Federation Fleet's presence here as loudly and as quickly as possible!
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