As the Level 4 civilization fleet pressed deeper and deeper, although there was still no sign of the Zerg on radar, an oppressive atmosphere swept through the entire fleet like an ion storm.
Inside the command room of the Alvin flagship, Teresi stared at the radar and said in disbelief, "Have these fleets gone insane? They've advanced at least three thousand kilometers already, yet they haven't sent out a single scout craft. The Zerg have Ferrymen to conceal them. I've seen how powerful those giant bugs are—radar scans are completely useless against them. You can only rely on the most basic scout craft for reconnaissance. What the hell are they doing?"
Brady snorted coldly. "These people may look united on the surface, but every one of them has their own agenda. They're all waiting for someone else to send out scouts first. Stupid low-level civilizations. Using them to wear down the Zerg's combat strength and draw their attacks would be more fitting than anything else..."
Cibule took a deep breath. "But Lord Brady, if they suffer losses too quickly and too severely, it will also be a blow to us as a whole. I think we should still warn them. After all, the longer they hold out, the more Zerg firepower they can draw away for us..."
Brady's expression hardened. He waved a hand and said decisively, "No. Don't warn them. I'd be delighted if every last one of them were wiped out within ten minutes. Warn them? If they really put up a stubborn fight and battle the Zerg for half the day, wouldn't the military's carefully designed plan go down the drain?"
"A plan?" Prescott silently turned the word over in his mind. Still, they knew military protocol: don't ask what you shouldn't ask. Thus, the three of