Though riddled with holes and badly damaged, it was still bristling with enough firepower to make it seem like a porcupine. This classic glass-cannon enemy ship was naturally the first target any practical commander would want to eliminate. Sure enough, Colonel Campbell, a pragmatist, grew excited at the sight of the burning enemy ship, which blazed like a torch and lit up half the starfield.
"Right fifteen, advance four!" he barked.
The Barbarossa shifted into its fourth acceleration speed and once again turned sideways to dodge the enemy's main guns. The dense flak from one side of the ship wove a seemingly impenetrable web of fire through the dark. It was impossible to shoot down every missile the marauders sent hurtling toward them.
Of course, in a close-range ship-to-ship engagement where the distance between them was shrinking by the moment, it was impossible to emerge completely unscathed after giving the enemy the first shot. More than ten thermonuclear missiles still made it through the interception net and exploded at close range.
The energy shields on the Barbarossa's side were finally neutralized by the successive explosions. Scorching shock waves began hammering the hull, setting off bursts of fire. But perhaps because the ship was painted crimson, the damage left no visible marks on the hull.
The red dreadnought had taken some damage, but it continued charging at high speed, head held high. Its massive frame remained as nimble as a fiery phoenix beating its wings, tracing a graceful arc before them as it began another volley from its main guns.
To the marauders, it was a deeply unnerving sight. They hadn't expected to sink a dreadnought so easily, of course, but after all those attacks, surely they should have caused some structural damage? Yet the enemy's maneuverability, speed, and firepower all