145: Infiltration successful

"Scout fleet No. 1, no Alien Fleet main force detected in the assigned area. Electronic reconnaissance records have been uploaded."

"Scout fleet No. 2, no Alien Fleet main force detected in the assigned area. Electronic reconnaissance records have been uploaded."

"..."

Several hours later, inside the Bridge of the storm.

Communication chatter echoed constantly.

15 out of the 18 scout detachments had completed reconnaissance in their assigned areas and uploaded their records to the cloud.

However, none of them found anything more than a few stragglers—either patrol fleets or transport teams.

Forget the main force; there weren't even many Warships to be found.

The staff of the First Mobile Fleet gathered around the holographic star map (sand table), reviewing the reconnaissance records.

These contained not only the movements of the Alien Fleet but also footage from the space station's internal networked cameras, various electronic communication logs, and more.

Some of this content caused the expressions of the staff members to grow increasingly grim—

"Bang!!!"

A slightly younger major slammed a fist onto the table and growled:

"Those damn aliens!"

"How... how dare they!"

Another lieutenant colonel, who looked slightly older than him, also cursed with a dark expression:

"They are using our compatriots who didn't manage to evacuate as consumables! As food! As tools for their own amusement!"

"What an utter desecration!"

Watching the restless staff members, the Chief of Staff slightly raised his right hand and pressed it down.

"Calm down,"

"The star marker in this system was destroyed by an Alien Fleet attack; our people had no chance to evacuate the civilians."

"By holding on under pressure to destroy the equipment, they lived up to the name of the Legion."

"Therefore, there will be a large number of surviving civilians. We already considered this when discussing the operational plan, didn't we?"

"The fire rain descending from the sky will bring punishment and death to those aliens, and you—"

"Are staff officers."

"Staff officers cannot be swayed by emotions. What we need to do is anticipate every possible contingency and formulate countermeasures, understand?"

"The more anxious we get, the easier it is for everything to spiral out of control."

"Now, compose yourselves, understand?"

The staff members all turned their gazes toward the Chief of Staff—his graying hair, the service bar on his chest symbolizing "293 years of service," and his rank of Brigadier General (Third Class), which was even higher than the fleet Commander, were incredibly persuasive.

"Yes!"

After receiving the affirmative response from the staff, he nodded—

"Then, now focus on monitoring those few squads that still haven't uploaded their results; they likely found something."

"As for those civilians—the aliens are indeed more excessive than we thought. I will apply for a more severe handling method from above."

"Get into work mode! I know you haven't undergone professional training! Neither have I!"

"But right now, Lord Chusiro is watching us! No one is allowed to drop the ball!"

"Yes!"

...

...

Meanwhile...

On that balanced anderson belonging to Scout fleet No. 7, the Pilot looked at the abnormal messages on the onboard computer and reported to the mothership:

"A992 calling 087, A992 calling 087."

"Due to overlapping flight paths with multiple Alien Fleet patrols, we arrived at the designated location approximately 2 hours behind schedule."

"Preliminary reconnaissance is now complete."

"A small amount of abnormal electronic signals have been detected inside Factory No. 7, and all internal camera equipment has been destroyed."

"I cannot confirm whether there is an Alien Fleet inside."

Soon, the reply from the mothership arrived—

"Message received. If conditions permit, please conduct close-range reconnaissance."

"You are authorized to use your own initiative in your actions."

"Received."

He replied casually, engaged the reverse thrusters, and maneuvered the decelerating fighter to slowly glide into the nearby asteroid belt—

Factory No. 7 had been physically isolated from information. He could guess with his toes that there was definitely something fishy inside, but this battle couldn't rely on guessing, let alone gambling. He had to know the specific situation inside that factory—

Looking at the small escape pod and the smaller, agile powered armor nearby, a bold idea gradually formed in the Pilot's mind.

...

...

Ten minutes later, Factory No. 7, at the entrance of the Starport Main Control Tower.

Two on-duty alien guards were sitting together chatting, occasionally glancing at the corridor.

Their weapons were leaning haphazardly to the side, and they were as lax as yellow dogs basking in the sun at the village entrance.

A: "Grr... (You guys busy later? I heard logistics just sent up a new batch of humans.)"

B: "Grr... (Those are brought up to work. You play with them every day?)"

A: "Grr... (Don't worry, just take two or three at a time and report it as an engineering accident. Those humans are so fun; they actually believe you when you lie to them!)"

A: "Grr... (You have no idea how funny they look when they get all desperate and crazy at the end! If I could go back and post this online, it would definitely go viral!)"

B: "Grr... (Then good luck. I heard the linear channel is really about to be laid here. Maybe we really can go back.)"

B: "Grr... (When that happens, we'll attack from inside and out, and break right through that whatever defense line of theirs! Hahaha!)"

A: "Grr... (That's a must...)"

B: "Grr... (By the way, look at that. What is that?)"

A: "Grr... (What?)"

A small white ball slowly rolled to their feet, immediately drawing their attention.

"Grr... (A... metal egg?)"

"Thump—!!!"

"Snap!!! Snap!!!"

The moment they looked down, a red figure dropped from the ceiling, grabbing the fat necks of the two aliens with one hand each and twisting them fiercely.

Instantly, the sound of breaking bones rang out, and the two aliens were granted a sleep like that of a baby.

That's right, he was the Pilot of the balanced anderson scout plane A992.

Just a moment ago, he had removed the electronic warfare core component from the plane, set the plane to self-destruct on a timer, and then put on the powered armor used for escape.

He boarded a small escape pod, slowly approached Factory No. 7, and crawled in through a pipe—then climbed all the way here through the internal pipes.

After simply dealing with the two slumped alien corpses on the ground, the A992 Pilot turned his gaze toward the door the two aliens had just been guarding:

"This must be the entrance to the Starport Main Control Tower, right?"

From here, he could see the entire Starport.

Without a moment's hesitation, he picked up the two electromagnetic guns leaning against the wall, checked that the ammunition was correct, and took out an access card he had casually swiped from somewhere earlier.

With a gentle swipe, "Beep beep!"

The door slowly opened, and then—

There wasn't even time for shock; a scorching metal storm instantly swept across all the living beings standing in the Main Control Tower.

A few seconds later, he dropped the electromagnetic guns in his hands, walked into the chaotic tower, closed the door behind him, and after finishing off the aliens lying in the tower, whether dead or alive, one by one, he finally breathed a sigh of relief and muttered to himself,

"Infiltration success."

Next...

He turned his gaze to the scheduling log of the Main Control Tower.