204: Damn! I almost missed it!

"Ten minutes until we reach the designated position!"

"Final equipment check!"

The reconnaissance-type FG300 carrying Celius and his team of Special Operations Team Members sped through the void as if it had been fueled with the wrong propellant.

In the end, the actual arrival time was nearly ten minutes earlier than the estimated thirty minutes.

"The probes we deployed earlier have located that group of scholars!"

"According to the surveillance footage tracking, they have been split into three groups."

"Nearly 15,000 are in the B-2 cargo hold of that node fortification;"

"Over 2,000 are on that starship that just left the port;"

"And over 1,000 are in the... slaughterhouse in the A-3 area of that node fortification?!"

"Damn it!"

"Wait! Almost everyone Lord Chusiro ordered us to take special care of is among them!"

It was fine not looking, but once he did, Celius broke out in a cold sweat: those he had been instructed to specially care for sounded like VIPs, and now they were in a slaughterhouse?

"How much time do they have left!"

No... can't panic... panicking now is useless!

Celius felt his palms sweating inside his powered armor, but a chill rose in his heart.

"According to the estimate, they have about 15 minutes left before it's their turn."

Fifteen minutes? That meant once they landed, they would only have five minutes! There wouldn't be enough time for a leisurely infiltration!

"night lamp, can you control those machines???"

night lamp (Ship-borne abridged version): Cannot, they are mechanically actuated.

No, this won't work, there's no time... We have to assault them directly!

"Does the ship have warp escape pods?"

He immediately contacted the captain of the FG300.

"There are six, why?"

Warp travel triggers a certain range of spatial distortion at the moment of arrival, meaning if timed correctly, those warp escape pods could be used as landing craft capable of piercing any armor!

"We're borrowing them!"

"Put it on our account! We'll return them!"

After saying this, he hung up without waiting for the captain's reply.

Immediately, he shouted into the squad command channel:

"Infiltration method changed! Change equipment!"

"Group A and Group B, follow me to forcibly land outside the enemy fortification's A-3 area!"

"Group C is responsible for landing on B-2 and seizing the storage area!"

"Group D, execute Boarding Actions on that starship! Also, have the probes we deployed earlier immediately activate their gravity interference devices! Don't let it escape through the Gravity Conduit!"

"Yes!"

With mechanical assistance, in less than eight minutes, the Special Operations Team Members swapped their lightweight agile powered armor for heavy assault powered armor and switched to heavy firepower configurations.

It looked like the FG300 had once again pushed its limits—this time it was two minutes early.

"Everyone! Begin deployment!"

"Deploy in two minutes!"

"Yes!"

Meanwhile, at the navigation node fortification, Area A-3, the temporary slaughterhouse, two "production lines" were rumbling.

These slaughter lines were makeshift, immediately equipped to every node of the defensive fortifications.

The appearance of this contraption, ostensibly to respond to the Marshal's call to "strengthen the logistical self-sufficiency of all defensive fortifications," was actually the result of open corruption by certain officials of The Consortium—the fact that this thing stood out among a series of gadgets like "instant ecological culture pods" and won the bid was inherently suspicious.

"Hey! You old fart! Move faster!"

That batch of scholars, selected because of their age, were herded here like livestock.

Along the way, people kept stating their identities or asking if they could pay a ransom in the name of their company, but the latter was refused by low-level soldiers on the grounds of "not recognizing the diplomatic equal status of enterprises," while the former drew jeers at best and a beating at worst.

Perhaps paying a ransom through a company would be useful, but this argument had no value in front of the grunts: they were the ones running around, and they wouldn't get a cut of the final payout, so why would they add to their own workload?

Slowly, these old professors and researchers, most of whom were veterans in their fields, fully realized that in the eyes of these soldiers, they—and the knowledge they had spent most of their lives studying—were completely worthless.

"We're here!!!"

Suddenly, the soldiers in front stopped and shouted to the crowd still walking, "Everyone now, enter those cabins in an orderly fashion!"

"After cleaning yourselves, you will be assigned tasks!"

"Remember to strip! We are cleaning in groups!"

As he spoke, he grabbed an old man standing there in a daze and kicked him hard in the stomach, "Move it! This is a gift from the benevolent Marshal to you all!"

He was only halfway through when, suddenly, a man with a severed hand stumbled out from the back door. Looking at the group of old people and soldiers standing at the door, the man who ran out revealed a smile uglier than crying, before being gunned down by a burst of bullets.

But the scene behind the door had already been revealed to everyone: it was a slaughterhouse—a slaughterhouse specifically for slaughtering humans!

"They... they want to kill us!" The crowd erupted in panic.

"You old bastard! Shut up!"

In that moment of hesitation, the squad leader quickly raised his gun and aimed it at the old man who had first seen the scene behind the door—"Bang!!!"

But it wasn't the old man who fell; a high-velocity armor-piercing spike, along with the gun, pierced through the squad leader, shearing off his entire upper body.

Subsequently, a large number of red and white figures descended from the sky, and with lightning speed, coordinated with snipers in the distance to eliminate all the escort soldiers present. Everything happened in a flash.

When the old men realized what had happened, it was already over. After confirming the death of The Consortium soldier at his feet, Celius quickly stood up and looked at the group of old people—yes, they were the people in the photos!

Only then did he let out a long sigh—phew—thank goodness they made it in time.