The raider fleet's main force above New Lushun had been under the greatest pressure from start to finish. Despite having the advantage in numbers and ancient drones at their disposal, they'd still managed to make a complete mess of things. Now they were caught between advancing and retreating, under fire from the Thirteenth Fleet, the spaceport, and the planet's surface. The strain was more than they could bear.
They'd held out this long only because they'd been counting on Gorsi's squadron to seize the Throne and hurry over to help them surround the enemy. But now they knew there would be no reinforcements. The troll warlords, who had been running on sheer courage, naturally couldn't hold together any longer, and began to break and flee.
Watching the warships start to retreat, Warlord Sazaka let out a long sigh.
"...You see? They're falling apart all on their own. You don't even have to play the coward who gives the order to retreat. Isn't that just what you wanted?" Dr. Warren said, puzzled.
"That's exactly why I'm so melancholy!" the troll sighed. "However you look at it, I built this fleet with my own hands. I thought I had a firm grip on all the warlords, great and small. I never imagined my authority would crumble so quickly after just one defeat. They're fleeing without even bothering to tell me!"
You're such a glutton for punishment, aren't you? Dr. Warren might have been thinking, but at least he didn't let it show.
"...Enough. I suppose this is why we interstellar nomads have spent one or two thousand years squatting in the galactic core and fighting humanity without making any progress, while always being called raiders. We've brought it on ourselves!" As he spoke, the troll general's gaze grew ever more resolute, as