Author: 唇亡齿寒 / Lips Gone, Teeth Cold
Translator: Kinky || https://kinkytranslations.com/
Chapter 120
On April 1, 1417 of the Standard Calendar, the governor of Sword Bow received an urgent report during his daily post-breakfast walk. The breathless communications officer informed him that a fleet had exited hyperspace just two light-years away from the Sword Bow system and was now heading toward them at full speed. The governor first seriously confirmed that this was not an April Fool’s joke—even though Old Earth had long perished, its old holidays were still passed down through generations. He then ordered the entire system’s military defense level to be raised to the highest level, which meant all residents would move into underground bunkers (though the three planets in the Sword Bow system had few residents, being primarily mechanized agricultural planets with few normal houses apart from large farms and food processing plants), all surface activities would cease, and the ground-to-space forces would prepare to deploy with their interstellar missiles.
In addition to the planet’s defenses, Duke Winnet had also left a space fleet patrolling the area and supply routes. Recently, the governor frequently received reports of enemy attacks on supply convoys, but these were small-scale, like flies buzzing around bloody meat. Having served in the military in his youth during the long wars between the Empire and the Federation, the governor found such small raids routine, almost a necessary ritual; the real surprise was when no attacks occurred. Therefore, the governor calmly issued his orders, then leisurely walked through the garden’s winding paths to the governor’s mansion’s unused command room, where the chief of staff and the ground defense force commander were waiting for him.
……
Alois held his helmet, his eyes wandering with the numbers changing on the elevator display. He had been living under enormous invisible pressure these days, and this pressure peaked the moment the elevator doors opened.
Ding—
“Good morning, Senior!” A loud chorus greeted him like an ion cannon blast. Alois staggered back a few steps, crashing into the giant poster of the Galactic Diva Camilla, which was posted in the elevator to boost morale. Under the eager gaze of twenty-six pairs of bird-like eyes, it was hard for Alois to calmly walk out of the elevator and wave like a leader inspecting a new project. “Good morning, everyone.” He could only pull on his helmet, disguising himself as an unrecognizable ostrich, and squeeze out before the elevator doors fully closed.
The twenty-six pilots, divided into four squads, stood in two lines like a double layer of bronze walls, blocking Alois’s path. The terrified senior was already sweating, and he suspected the temperature control system in his spacesuit was broken by the sonic shockwave… or so he thought.
The leader of the first squad stepped forward and gave a standard, but slightly exaggerated, salute. “Please give us a pep talk, Senior!”
“Uh…” Alois was glad he had put on his helmet. “Today is no different from yesterday. That’s all.” He had said the same thing yesterday and the day before had said, “Make sure to zip up your spacesuit.” Darius Bayes had assigned him as the squadron leader for the pilots, forcing him to give such pep talks daily, claiming it would boost morale and fighting spirit, though Alois thought it would have the opposite effect. However, reality often defied his expectations.
“Senior’s words are so profound!” Amazement.
“Senior, are you telling us to maintain a calm mind?” Moved.
“Senior’s daily talks are so philosophical!” Thumbs up.
Bathing in adoring gazes, Alois deeply felt his age at that moment—the generational gap was so vast… or perhaps their entire brain structures differed? Did they even come from the same universe?
With a profound sense of powerlessness, Alois walked to the deepest part of the hangar, where a silver-white machine stood, its flowing lines heartbreakingly beautiful. He had often admired its graceful form, marveling at the wonder of creation. Now, it was his to command. The day he boarded the Sword of the Queen, Darius had led him to the hangar and pointed to the silver machine, saying, “This is my gift to you, Senior. As a general, I only give it to the strongest pilot.” He had added, “Don’t disappoint me.”
The Bard. About a year ago, Alois first saw its silhouette between Neo Venice’s blue sky and sea. Even now, it remained the pinnacle of Neo Venice’s art and technology, the ultimate dream of every pilot soaring through the universe.
Alois slid into the cockpit, inserted the key, and retinal scan beams swept his eyes. With a matching “ding,” all the surrounding lights came on.
“Phantom of the Opera, the Bard, system activated.”
A year ago, Alois had piloted it once, escaping from Green Star Diamond Island with Joshua and Srosie. Now, he would ride it into battle again.
The Bard. Joanna had once piloted it. She had perished among the stars in that silver machine, like a falling meteor. They were going to avenge her.
Alois opened the public channel. “Listen up.” He lowered his voice, trying to sound calm and composed. “Today’s mission is to cover the transport ship Armart’s landing on Sword Bow Alpha. Protecting the Armart is the top priority. Don’t get entangled in fights.”
“Understood!” twenty-six voices responded in unison.
……
The governor felt a sharp pain in his stomach. His old problem flared up when he was anxious, and now his beard was almost on fire. The chief of staff had shown him the distribution of their military forces and estimated enemy numbers. Faced with overwhelming disadvantage, anyone would be worried.
“How did they get through our front line?” The governor lashed out at the chief of staff. “Are the frontline defenders idiots? The enemy is already behind us!”
The chief of staff was sweating profusely. “The fleet stationed in the Natya sector is rushing to reinforce Mist Port, which is under attack by the enemy’s main force.”
“What about Grisofin and Chast? Those two cowards don’t know how to protect their master?” The governor slammed the table, causing an ink bottle to jump, spill, and stain a large part of the desk. He quickly lifted his computer, fearing it might get damaged. A cleaning robot slid into the room and swiftly cleaned the desk.
“Damn it! Even the ink bottle is against me!” the governor thought angrily. He hadn’t joined Duke Winnet entirely willingly. He was discontent with a mundane life on a boring agricultural planet. He dreamed of excitement and adventure, like the ambitious Duke, but lacked the courage, relying on the Duke’s support to climb to the top. Although less thrilling, it was better than inspecting farms until death.
Now the real danger and excitement had arrived. He was on the front line, facing the Empire’s “Whip of Judgment” Admiral Darius Bayes. This was no routine raid. It was real war.
Seeing the governor silent, the chief of staff hurriedly said, “Don’t worry. In ten hours, the patrol fleet will reach Sword Bow Beta to support us. With their help, we might not lose.”
The governor stared at the military distribution map and sighed heavily. “Making a decision… does take a lot of courage…”
“You’re right!” Although confused, the chief of staff flattered.
“…Twenty years ago, when I became governor of the Sword Bow system, His Majesty told me the same thing.”
“……” The chief of staff decided not to speak too much in the future.
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