Mixed Fleet in Action

Once the reorganized force had finished preparing on schedule, they followed Amber's suggestion and found an open space outside the village.

They piled the bodies of their fallen soldiers and the Empire soldiers they could find into separate heaps, then used Plasma Grenades to cremate them quickly.

It was the most respectful way Amber could think of to handle the remains.

They could have dug graves instead.

But given the long-standing tensions between the villagers and the Federation government and military, Amber worried that some of the more radical villagers might dig up the graves to vent their anger.

There were plenty of scum in the planet's administration and military, to be sure.

But Amber did not want the soldiers under his command to bear the blame for that.

Under the villagers' indifferent gazes, several soldiers gathered the fallen soldiers' "ashes."

The superheated plasma fireballs from the grenades had reduced the remains to something like shards of glass.

As for the Empire soldiers' remains, Amber had them scattered across the field where they had just fought.

"Since you came here and can't leave, rest on your final battlefield."

After saying that, Amber confirmed that everyone and everything had been loaded into the vehicles, then gave the order to depart.

The convoy soon formed a long, single-file line and drove out of the village.

After their conversation in the village, the atmosphere between Amber and Isabel had grown a little awkward.

More precisely, Isabel did not know what to say to him for the moment.

Major Randall, who was riding in the same vehicle, found the silence embarrassing.

The navy major was hardly discreet in his private life. He loved chasing women, and his colleagues considered him an old hand at romance. Naturally, he imagined the two were having a lovers' quarrel.

Thinking himself both their senior officer and their elder, the major decided he ought to say something.

"Hey, in my experience, ninety percent of arguments between couples are unnecessary."

The atmosphere in the vehicle became even more awkward.

Perhaps their luck had finally turned. After fighting battle after battle in such a short span, Amber's group encountered no more combat once they left the village.

Guided by drones taking turns on reconnaissance and an updated map of friendly and enemy positions, Amber led the convoy through three days of hiding by day and traveling by night.

At last, they broke through the Empire troops' encirclement of the area and reached the outskirts of the wider battlefield.

They were not entirely out of danger, and pushing on would bring them into contact with other Empire forces.

But for now, Amber and the others had at least gained a chance to catch their breath.

Robert IV was purely an agricultural planet. Everything on it was geared first and foremost toward farming on a massive scale.

Cities had developed only around a few major transport hubs, spaceports, and ports responsible for shipping goods. Everywhere else, people lived in villages and towns.

In a way, the sparse population made it easier for Amber's group to stay hidden while moving.

The convoy finally reached the last waypoint Amber had set: a transfer center on the plains.

The center had once handled shipments from the many farms nearby.

But it had shut down after the Empire launched its surprise attack.

As the war progressed, its manager and the entire staff had vanished.

After locating the center, Amber repeatedly checked the surrounding area for signs of Empire troops, then sent the reconnaissance drones around it several times.

Finally, he went in himself, using Optical Cloaking to slip inside alone and take a look around.

Only after confirming that there was not a soul in the center did he let the main force drive in.

His authority as a Psychic Agent gave him extensive wartime access to civilian facilities, and Amber soon restored the center's basic operations.

The convoy rushed toward the charging area like a litter of hungry piglets.

The three tankers carrying fuel for the convoy could only replenish the vehicles' fuel supplies.

But for these hybrid vehicles, burning fuel to generate electricity when charging outlets were available would have been a waste.

Beyond recharging the vehicles and equipment, the main reason Amber had chosen the transfer center as their stopping point was its fairly large staff bathhouse.

Neither he nor the soldiers under him had found time to bathe after days of fighting and fleeing.

For the exhausted troops, a hot shower would go a long way toward easing both physical and mental strain.

It would also give their morale a modest boost.

Isabel, the only woman in the group, had been longing for a shower. Her eyes lit up when she saw the bathhouse.

Even so, she waited patiently until everyone else had finished before slipping off to bathe alone.

She asked Amber to guard the entrance for her.

"Hold on. If you're taking a shower, why drag me here and then not let me in?"

Amber was not entirely happy with Isabel's request.

I'm already here. It'd be perfectly reasonable to go in and shower with her, wouldn't it?

Isabel answered with an eye roll, then swayed into a private shower stall.

The joke finally dispelled the awkwardness that had lingered between them.

Amber stood outside the stall, listening to the beauty shower behind him while studying the tactical map and considering their next move.

At the edge of the Robert System, a Federation fleet was assembling in deep space.

Judging by their hull numbers and insignia, some ships came from the Planetary Defensive Fleet, some from the Robert System's Mobile Fleet, and others from a Deep-Space Patrol Fleet that happened to be nearby.

None of the fleets that had come to join them was at full strength. What they shared were hulls still bearing the scars of battle.

Some ships had even arrived with makeshift patches over gaping holes.

Aboard a Giant Kraken-class battleship at the center of this Mixed Fleet, the commanders of the various fleets had gathered after arriving by shuttle.

"The fact that you answered my call and came here proves that neither you nor the soldiers under your command are cowards."

Commodore Dewell, the nearly sixty-year-old commander of the Robert System's Mobile Fleet and the man who had called them together, looked around the conference room and spoke slowly.

"The Star Dragon Empire unilaterally tore up the Peace Treaty and launched a shameless war of aggression against us. As Federation soldiers, we cannot sit idle, much less retreat."

"We don't know when the main fleet will arrive, but we must fire the first shot of the counterattack! Even if all we can do is tie up the enemy fleet, that's better than fleeing to the edge of the system to cling to life!"

Dewell looked at the fleet commanders nodding around him. After taking a moment to steady his emotions, he continued:

"Nor can we forget the hero who warned us! Without that warning at the crucial moment, we could never have saved so many warships and assembled here!"

"Robert IV was a primary target of the Star Dragon Empire's fleet, so our hero has most likely fallen in service to the Federation."

"I propose that, before we formally begin the operations meeting, we observe a minute of silence for this hero!"

"Agreed!"

"Agreed!"

"I second that!"