Che Ruwen left the conference room with his subordinates, striding down the corridor with a breeze in his wake.
In the bright corridor, he asked calmly, "Does anyone want to go home? This is your last chance."
"No..."
"...No..."
"Aren't you going back, sir?"
Their scattered replies came quietly.
Without looking back, Che Ruwen said, "Don't try to tough it out. Go home if you need to. I have to get into space right away and inspect the fleet, find out exactly what our warships are... made up of, and draw up battle plans."
In the end, he swallowed the word "junk." Did this hastily assembled human fleet even have any fighting capability?
This time, it wasn't savages piloting mechs to fight other savages. This was a real interstellar war that would decide the survival of all humanity, and humanity's first war with an alien power.
A glimpse was enough to reveal the whole picture. Their opponent had taken a direct hit from the Prototype Battleship's main cannon without a scratch. That alone meant this war would not be fought on an equal technological footing.
At least among the human warships hovering overhead, none could claim they dared take such a shot.
"Then I won't go either. As an intelligence officer, I have to record all relevant critical information," a man in his thirties replied earnestly.
"All right! You're coming with me. The rest of you have half a day's leave. It's noon now. I expect to see you at eight tonight!"
Che Ruwen checked his watch and decisively cut off anything else they might say.
Ultimately, they still wanted to go home. Even Che Ruwen wanted to see his wife and children, to savor the warmth and happiness of being with his family.
They left the River Domain Alliance's