The Battle Was Going Badly for Our Soldiers (Please Follow and Bookmark!)

Amber's words brought Margaret up short.

She grasped the implication at once, but she still found it hard to believe.

"Just because they belong to different factions, they'll ignore a mission that could decide whether the Empire wins this battle?!"

"Please. As if factional infighting hasn't caused enough of this already."

Amber sounded unimpressed by Margaret's shock.

Factional infighting in the Star Dragon Empire had always been a favorite topic among players in Amber's previous life.

The struggle between the Regent Faction and the Princess Faction made the factional conflicts of the late Ming dynasty look tame.

The Empire's internal struggle had even shaped many of the major events that changed the course of history.

Whenever the game's many Empire loyalists brought up the crucial battles lost to factional infighting,

they couldn't help beating their chests in anguish.

Amber checked the rounds left in his Automatic Shotgun, then went to the door terminal of the Core Communications Room and locked the door completely from the inside.

He had no desire to see a pack of howling Federation Mobile Infantry burst in.

With that done, Amber returned to Margaret, who was still in a daze, and pinched her cheek.

"The Empire fleet attacking above us is the Eighth Expeditionary Strike Group, right?"

"Y-yes."

"And if I remember right, the commander of the Eighth Expeditionary Strike Group is Marquis Ascania?"

Margaret nodded mechanically. Amber's casual pinch had brought a faint blush to her cheeks.

(Amber: That's just how we cosmic charmers are.)

"Funny thing is, the marquis is one of the regent's men too."

Amber pulled off his Tactical Gloves and snapped his fingers.

"You mean...?"

Margaret had an inkling, but she wasn't quite sure yet.

"Believe it or not, once the Orbital Paratroopers land, they won't just be there to crush Federation resistance."

Amber paused and looked Margaret in the eyes.

"Their most important job will be to confirm whether you're dead."

Margaret's expression shifted. Then something seemed to occur to her.

"Wait. I'll admit what you're saying makes sense."

"But here's the problem."

"Didn't that guy shoot at you first?"

Margaret's question stopped Amber cold.

"Yeah! Why the hell did he shoot at me first?!"

"I'm not even with the damn Princess Faction!"

Amber suddenly realized things might not be as simple as he had thought.

In the space surrounding Robert IV,

the Empire's Eighth Expeditionary Strike Group had gained an overwhelming advantage.

The Federation Defensive Fleet had bought time with its Automated Defense Weapons and Deflection Fields,

allowing most of its ships to make an emergency departure from port.

But once the Empire's follow-up fleet jumped in, guided by a new Induction Beacon,

the hopelessly lopsided battle was effectively over.

With their numerical advantage, the Empire fleet gave the Defensive Fleet no chance to close in and board them.

After deploying into bombardment formation, nearly every warship shut down its main aft propulsion array.

Constant adjustments from their Vector-Control Engines and forward Reverse-Thrust Engines held them steady in Stationary Orbit above Robert IV.

They kept a straight-line distance of more than eight thousand kilometers from Lansford Naval Port.

At that range, High-Energy Lasers and Charged-Particle Beams had weakened enough for them to withstand direct hits.

Plasma Torpedoes and nuclear missiles coming around the flanks were repeatedly intercepted by the fleet's air-defense frigates on the perimeter.

Even so, a number slipped through the defensive net,

damaging four cruisers and several destroyers and frigates to varying degrees.

The losses remained within acceptable limits,

far below the Loss Threshold set by the Naval Staff before the battle.

Under those circumstances, the Empire fleet could conduct its bombardment almost at leisure.

Its superior volume of fire meant it could dispense with High-Energy Lasers and charged-particle cannons

and instead keep up a relentless bombardment with its most powerful Heavy Particle Cannons.

A volley every ninety seconds sent dense white beams sweeping across Lansford Naval Port and the surrounding Federation warships like a rain of light.

From his position in Lansford Port's combat command center, Randall

saw warships exploding in the space around the naval port almost every moment.

Now he watched one ship some 280 kilometers from the spaceport through the feed from optical observation equipment.

One of the first ships to leave port and join the counterattack, the Bulldog-Class Heavy Cruiser had finally run out of luck in this uneven battle.

A thick plasma beam struck its Deflection Field, setting off a blinding white flare.

The Deflection Field generator, pushed beyond its rated output for too long, finally overloaded and shut down.

Without that lifeline in a fleet battle,

a second plasma beam tore through the entire hull from the upper right of the bow.

The ship's automated damage-control system had no time to respond to damage on that scale.

Fire erupted along the beam's path.

The Fusion Reactor at the heavy cruiser's core detonated.

In an instant, the entire warship became a giant fireball.

And it was only one of the ships exploding around Lansford Port.

Major Randall sighed.

The Defensive Fleet's total destruction was now inevitable.

Throughout the bombardment, the Empire fleet had avoided the main structures of Lansford Port and the Space Elevator.

That meant they intended to seize this vital link between the planet and space.

Randall could do nothing about it.

Neither the naval port, the civilian port, nor the Space Elevator had been fitted with anything as deranged as a self-destruct mechanism.

Once all the defenders were gone, the Empire's occupation of the site would be only a matter of time.

Seeing that every warship still able to move had left port, Major Randall gave his final order:

"Everyone, get to the Escape Platform! Now!"

Dropping to Robert IV in escape pods and joining the ground forces was clearly better

than staying to be captured by Imperial troops.

As he dragged Tom, the Tactical Information Coordinator, out of the command center,

Major Randall took one last look at the main screen.

The Empire fleet was wrapping up its bombardment, its ships switching their main propulsion arrays back on.

As they closed in on Lansford Port, large numbers of flat, door-shaped ships broke away from the fleet and descended to lower orbits.

They were Orbital Assault Ships.

Their arrival meant orbital strikes and orbital drops were about to begin.