Author: 唇亡齿寒 / Lips Gone, Teeth Cold
Translator: Kinky || https://kinkytranslations.com/
Chapter 74
Lieutenant Leslie Faraday pulled up the radar, displaying four green dots and three red dots—the green dots represented allies, and the red dots enemies. He glanced at the optical screen, which showed a spacecraft floating quietly in space (one of the red dots). Facing the onslaught of enemies, it was eerily unresponsive—not out of calm, but truly unresponsive—as if it were a ghost ship that had drifted for hundreds of years, its crew long since turned to dust and ashes, with only its faithful computer still steering the ship through the endless cosmic path.
“How strange,” Lieutenant Faraday said into the team’s communication channel. “Is this really Joanna Begrel’s ship?”
“It can’t be wrong,” his companion replied.
“But there’s no response from them,” Faraday said distractedly. “Could it be that they’ve resigned themselves to surrender?”
His companion said, “I scanned the nearby star field and found that a few minutes ago, four small escape pods left the ship, heading toward Ansod G2.”
Faraday understood the situation. The Mad Queen, knowing she was outmatched, chose to abandon the ship and flee. Tactically, it was undoubtedly the right move, but—
“Joanna Begrel actually fleeing from battle—it seems the myths of the galaxy are just that, myths.” Faraday smirked with a mocking smile. “If I take her down, the title of ‘Ace Pilot’ of the Empire Army will truly be mine.”
“Don’t be so smug, Leslie,” the flight squadron’s captain warned. “You’re too young and haven’t witnessed Joanna Begrel’s capabilities firsthand. Don’t underestimate her.”
“Ah, ah, got it, Captain,” Leslie replied nonchalantly. He thought to himself, ‘The captain always puts her on a pedestal. Everyone worships her like a goddess.’ He didn’t believe in such “myths”. He would knock that mad pirate off her pedestal, use missiles and lasers to make her crawl in the dust, and let everyone know that he, Leslie Faraday, was the strongest pilot in the Empire Army.
The flight squadron approached the lifeless Dream of a Cold Night. Radar scans over the ship confirmed no life signs. “They really have all fled,” the captain said. “Catch up with the escape pods. We must eliminate them before they land on the planet.”
“Understood.”
Leslie turned his fighter towards Ansod G2. On his radar, four green dots formed a V-formation—he was the leader, with even the captain behind him, which gave Leslie a rush of exhilaration. The other two enemy red dots seemed to detect their aggressive intentions and also moved quickly, closing in on Leslie’s squadron.
The lieutenant’s lips curled up again in his characteristic smirk. The enemy had only two fighters, while they had more than double that number, with a whole fleet behind them. The Mad Queen was either incredibly brave or deliberately seeking death. Leslie leaned toward the latter.
The radar had identified the models of the two enemy fighters, one Godot II and one Bard. Leslie’s eyes were glued to the optical screen displaying the Bard; its bird-like graceful shape, streamlined beautiful lines, and its light, prancing stance were like a magnet to his gaze, drawing him in so much that he momentarily forgot everything else.
The expensive concept model from Neo Venice was only affordable to the high nobility of the Empire and those fools with mush for brains didn’t understand the beauty of a fighter jet. The Bard, in their hands, was a pearl cast before swine.
Leslie licked his lips, pulling his gaze back. He decided to capture that silver-white body as a war trophy for himself. Only he was worthy of the beautiful Bard.
As for the other aircraft, Leslie raised an eyebrow. The Godot II was such an old model it should be lying in a museum, not appearing on the battlefield. Alright, Leslie admitted it did have an advantage in speed, and some veteran pilots took pride in handling the Godot II. Leslie, however, thought they were just seeking glory in old memories to comfort themselves.
“Bring it on, whatever you are!”
The two enemy fighters were now within Leslie’s range. He launched two missiles, then glided downward to avoid the shock of the explosions. His teammates followed suit, their coordinated maneuvers making them look like a finely tuned instrument.
The brightness of the explosions obscured the optical screen. There was no sound of explosions in space; one had to compensate with imagination.
“It can’t be this easy, can it…?” the lieutenant chuckled lightly.
As if responding to his skepticism, a black and a white fighter jet burst out from the flames of the explosions like phoenixes reborn from fire, swiftly closing in from either side.
Leslie pulled up his fighter, maintaining distance from the enemy jets, but soon he was tightly marked by the black Godot II. The opponent, like a fierce cobra, clung to him relentlessly. The disadvantage in speed made Leslie scramble, but once his squadron mates joined the fray, the outlook improved significantly. The two against one compensated for Leslie’s lack in speed. However, the enemy jet wasn’t as weak as he imagined; its magical-like flying skills and the advantage of the model’s unpredictability kept Faraday on the run. He had just launched missiles when the enemy jet disappeared from view, only to appear behind him moments later.
“Is this guy even human?!” his teammate roared over the comm.
Leslie recalled his officer’s caution that Joanna Begrel’s ship had a formidable AI. Could the pilot of the black fighter really be an AI and not human? He quickly dismissed the thought. No AI could reach such a level. Piloting a fighter had turned into an art form, like a stroke improvised by a painter or a note casually played by a musician—simple yet full of endless power. Only a human could achieve this.
“Be careful!” the captain shouted. “The opponent is likely Alois Lagrange! Don’t underestimate him!”
Ah, so it’s him. Leslie’s inner rage erupted. Never mind Joanna Begrel, even the detestable Lagrange was here. More notorious than the female pirate, Lagrange’s name had overshadowed Leslie’s student days. “Lagrange used this tactic before.” “This is a simulator model Lagrange used.” “The records set by Lagrange probably can’t be broken.” Lagrange this, Lagrange that, as if Lagrange was an insurmountable legend! Whenever the teachers and students mentioned his name, their faces showed a mix of admiration and regret, as if losing him was a great misfortune!
Faraday gripped the control stick. “Whether it’s Joanna or Lagrange, I’ll knock you all down. I will carve my name on your tombstones, telling the world who you fell to!”
He shouted, dodging the attack from the Godot II like a swift shadow, ignoring his teammates’ support, and set up a one-on-one fight with his opponent. They tangled in the vast space, neither willing to let the other go, like two beasts fighting for territory, with the battle only stopping when one of them died.
“Faraday! What are you doing!” the captain roared over the comm. “You’re disrupting the formation! Get back in formation now!”
The radar showed the captain and the other two unable to contain the Bard anymore. The so-called formation was already unstable, so it was no wonder the captain was in a hurry to have him rejoin.
“No!” the lieutenant refused. “Captain, if you can’t suppress the Bard, let the second squadron provide support!”
“You…”
Before the captain’s reprimand could come through, Leslie turned off the communication channel, focusing in silence on the black fighter before him. The second squadron? Whether they came for support or chased the escape pods didn’t matter to him. All he needed was to defeat his enemy. He would prove his strength with real achievements.
Perhaps the captain had given up on disciplining him, allowing the second squadron to strike. The second squadron’s impeccable formation swept across the battlefield, chasing the direction the escape pods had gone.
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