"The garrison fleet from the Serbonne Star System."
"The garrison fleet from the Bushman Star System."
"The garrison fleet from the Bedros Star System."
Bradley's breathing quickened slightly.
Four star systems.
Nearly forty thousand starships.
They were emptying the reserves from the rear.
Strauss's voice continued.
"All are to reinforce the Savannah Star System."
He paused, emphasizing his words.
"We must ensure the warp points in the Savannah Star System remain unobstructed!"
"We must ensure the Pandora Fleet and the Ares Fleet can withdraw!"
Bradley opened his mouth, wanting to say something.
After the four joint fleets were redeployed, those star systems would be left without defensive fleets.
If the Federation attacked now...
But as he looked at Strauss's face, he said nothing.
He knew.
There was no time to worry about that now.
Pandora and Ares—two sequence fleets, hundreds of thousands of warships, nearly ten million officers and crew.
If they couldn't withdraw, this campaign would be a complete loss.
Strauss's gaze shifted from Bradley to Crawford.
"At the same time..."
He paused before continuing.
"Compile a summary report of the current situation for the General Staff Headquarters."
"Tell them to dispatch reinforcements immediately!"
"Also, order the Himiel Fleet to warp immediately!"
Crawford immediately stood at attention and replied.
"Yes!"
With that, seeing that Strauss had nothing further to add, Crawford left.
Crawford's figure disappeared beyond the door.
The door slid shut slowly with a soft click.
The office fell silent once more.
Strauss sat in his chair, staring at the closed door for a few seconds.
Then he turned his head and looked at Bradley.
"Bradley."
He spoke, his voice somewhat hoarse.
"That Federation fleet causing havoc in the Bushman Star System..."
"Have they been found?"
Bradley's body stiffened slightly.
He lowered his head, silent for a second.
Then he raised his head, meeting Strauss's gaze, and shook his head gently.
"No."
His voice was soft, carrying an indescribable complexity.
"We've already raised the blockade level in the Bushman Star System to the highest."
"And increased the patrol teams to three times the previous number."
He paused before continuing.
"But we've still found nothing."
Strauss's brow furrowed.
Bradley went on.
"It's as if they..."
He weighed his words carefully.
"...vanished into thin air."
The office fell silent for a few seconds.
Strauss stared at him, unmoving.
Something burned in his eyes.
Then he slammed the table violently.
"Bang!"
The loud noise exploded in the office, causing the documents on the table to jump.
"Damn Federation bugs!"
His voice suddenly rose, filled with barely suppressed fury.
"Don't let me catch you!"
He gritted his teeth, enunciating each word.
"Or you'll regret it!"
At the same moment, in the Elvira Star System.
The Imperial Fleet was in retreat.
Over a hundred thousand warships, with no formation to speak of and no tactical coordination, simply pushed their engine power to the limit and charged forward desperately.
They were like a herd of wild buffalo chased by hounds, fleeing blindly, heedless of the cost.
The slower, heavily damaged warships began to fall behind.
Their captains screamed frantically, "Faster! Faster! Faster!"
But the engines were already overloaded to their limits. The tail flames shifted from blazing white to dark red, yet they still couldn't catch up to the fleet ahead.
Thus, the distance widened further.
And behind them, that Federation Fleet was closing in rapidly.
Over two hundred thousand starships.
Blanketing the sky.
Their formation was terrifyingly precise, like a giant net slowly tightening, gradually devouring the Imperial Fleet's last remaining space for survival.
An Imperial Destroyer lagging at the very rear was caught by a Federation Vanguard Cruiser.
Three particle beams struck its stern simultaneously.
The engine exploded.
The destroyer lost power, slowly spinning under inertia, and was swallowed by the pursuing Federation warships.
Even the sympathetic detonation's fiery glow was engulfed by the massive fleet, vanishing from sight.
The shield of another Heavy Cruiser was near collapse. The captain ordered the ship abandoned.
The escape pods had just ejected when they were picked off one by one by Federation interceptor fighter craft.
Not a single one escaped.
The Imperial warships running ahead didn't look back.
Not because they didn't want to save them.
They couldn't.
Anyone who stopped would die.
This was the iron law of a chase.
Bridge of the Flagship Ares, Ares Fleet.
General Slate stood before the command console, his brow tightly furrowed into a knot.
He stared at the tactical screen, watching the allied force markers representing those falling behind extinguish one after another, his face grim with fury.
"Damn Federation bastards..."
His voice squeezed through gritted teeth, carrying barely suppressed rage.
"Like leeches!"
He slammed a fist onto the control console.
"Sticking to us!"
The adjutant beside him kept his head down, not daring to speak.
The communication screen lit up, revealing the face of General Thatcher.
His expression was calmer than Slate's, but his eyes were equally filled with exhaustion.
Looking at Slate, he spoke slowly.
"General Slate."
His voice was hoarse, yet carrying a rare, almost light tone.
"We're almost at the warp point."
Slate's head snapped up.
Thatcher nodded.
"As long as we reach the warp point, we'll see hope for survival!"
Slate's gaze fell back to the tactical screen.
On the screen, not far ahead in the airspace, a green marker was blinking.
That was the warp point's coordinates.
If they could charge into it and initiate warp, they could leave this hellhole.
Slate took a deep breath.
"Entire fleet..."
His voice echoed through the bridge, hoarse yet clear.
"Full speed ahead!"
"Target the warp point!"
"At any cost!"
The orders were swiftly relayed.
The Imperial Fleet's engines roared once more.
Those warships already overloaded to their limits were forced to dredge up their last reserves of power.
Tail flames shifted from dark red back to blazing white.
Speed surged again.
Like beasts driven to the brink, they charged madly toward that green marker.
But the Federation Fleet behind them was also accelerating.
Over two hundred thousand warships, like a moving continent of steel, gradually increased speed in the void.
Not the frantic, reckless acceleration of the Imperials.
It was a steady, composed, and utterly controlled acceleration.
As if toying with prey.
Bridge of the Soaring Fleet flagship, the Yao-class Battleship.
General Jiang Yubai stood before the command console, his eyes fixed intently on the red dots accelerating to flee on the tactical screen.
His eyes narrowed slightly.
"Accelerate!"
His voice exploded across the bridge, carrying an unquestionable resolve.
"Accelerate!"
"We absolutely cannot let them escape!"
The command was swiftly relayed.
The Soaring Fleet's vanguard ship group ignited their engines simultaneously, their speed increasing once more.
Those warships shot forward like arrows released from a bow, trailing tens of thousands of blue tail flames across the void as they raced toward the direction of the Imperial Fleet.
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