Chapter 1029 The Failure of Death Vanguard
Ion Grasper, Death Vanguard, commander of the Black Legion expedition fleet, was standing motionless on the command deck of the Ceaseless Wrath.
He ignored the noise of the crew on the bridge and looked out at the last bulletproof observation window that was still intact.
He straightened his back, as if he was inspecting some fleet, but what he was looking at was not a fleet, it was part of the remaining fleet-the scrapped ships were gathered into a pile. A scrapyard filled with delicate gadgets floats idly in the void.
Colorful violent winds enveloped the Pandora galaxy, framing it with its tentacles, as delicate as ice sculptures on glass.
Of course, it is not impossible to treat this as a beautiful and intoxicating scenery. Anyway, he thinks it is quite beautiful, although Iengra Speer himself cannot be associated with the word "beautiful". .
Even if the opacity of the observation window was adjusted to the maximum, the dirty light generated by the subspace would still blind his eyes.
Despite this, he remained motionless, looking away, past the twisting tendrils of the storm, into the distance, toward the night beyond the asteroid belt.
He didn’t know which goddamn retarded wizard in the legion created a small-scale subspace storm at the critical moment of their battle. He didn’t know how much damage the empire had suffered. Anyway, he was almost beaten to death. , literally.
There are very few ships that can reach here without peeling off the skin, and most of them have turned in early.
He wouldn't blame them, after all he was the one who lost the war.
Since the defeat in the first naval battle, the entire situation in Pandora has changed.
Now it is crowded with the pitiful battleships of the empire. It is no longer a stagnant water. Once the small battleships of the Black Legion enter this galaxy and lurk in the shadows, what they see is the endless flow of water. The spacecraft traveled between the planet and the new orbital platform, as well as the messy traffic lines——
Then, most of the warships belonging to the Black Legion warband would hurriedly escape back to the subspace with their tails between their legs. .
Those who had the courage to stay in the galaxy paid little attention to him as the commander.
Iongraspeer has been trying to reshape his authority. He and his defeated troops continued to circle the galaxy with the Empire's fleet. At first, he achieved certain results through sneak attacks, but as the strength of the Empire's fleet continued to increase—— Now that the empire has four battleships and twenty-one cruisers in the galaxy, he will basically be running around in the next few days.
Even just now, he was attacking an imperial supply fleet, but was ambushed. In the end, he barely escaped with the fleet in the chaos, but ran into a subspace storm.
Now there are only five broken ships left in his poor fleet.
The last people left here are hopeless people, Iongra Speer thought reluctantly.
In these days, he spent many sleepless nights, waiting for the wailing of the enemy alarm, but the imperial fleet did not come to his door.
He grew tired of waiting for them, just as he grew tired of everything here.
At least for now, the asteroid-shrouded area remains a safe and secluded place.
Among the five ships left behind, only the flagship Unending Wrath, the large cruiser Divine Corrosion and the later-added strike cruiser Wild Howl showed signs of activity. The rest basically had their reactors extinguished and fell into a complete state of collapse. In the darkness, everyone escaped.
Since all the lights are no longer activated, they have turned into silhouettes in the starlight.
Ion Graspeer wanted to know what frightening scandal happened in these cold hulls, and what happened after the servants' masters ran away from the dark broken decks. A local snake comes and rides on their heads.
Will they hoard dwindling food, water and air to maintain their short-lived dominance?
Ion Graspeer believed that this must be the case. If he had learned anything during his long career as a traitor, it was that humans usually revert to a certain type, and this type always returns to a certain type. It's unsightly. The irony of it all amused him to a certain extent.
At least, this will help kill the boring time.
Due to the lack of sincere control, these damn ships are slowly sliding towards each other, their huge attraction dragging them slowly through the silent space.
There they quickly meet their end as broken masts and mangled hulls.
He didn't like the idea.
Ion Grasper has been here for half a month. He is counting in the timer on his helmet, almost magically doing this, taking more and more The troubles are counting the time when there is nothing to do every day.
It’s incredible.
But there is no way, they have basically lost their combat effectiveness. If they are discovered before new reinforcements arrive, there will be only a dead end.
Hiding here, at least the Imperials won't come for a while.
Iongra Speer has been able to construct a picture in his mind: an Imperial Admiral in a funny uniform, in a command post full of minions, furiously driving all small ships across the galaxy to hunt them down.
In a sense, he at least won.
The Legion always wins -
Of course, when he is alone, he will also reflect on whether he is a little bit crazy because of the continuous defeats.
To be honest, the situation of the Endless Wrath is only a little better than those ships stuck in the darkness. After all, it has been in the center of the battlefield, so there is really no fun here, even if Iongra Speer is A person who can find joy in things that others find terrible.
The crew worked nonstop to cure it, it had been an unreasonably long wait, and today would be another day that proved their efforts were far from adequate.
His authority was almost reduced to that of a slave at this moment, so much so that the remaining ships planned to abandon him.
Aingra Speer felt a sense of uneasiness, thinking about his fate.
As he was freeing his ship from the battle with the Dark Angels, he realized that the Warmaster would be left alone, so he proposed that the Warmaster be removed from the planet as a priority, regardless of everything else. Pick it up.
Irongraspeer cared about glory more than some of his blood relatives, but in the eyes of others, it was a kind of self-destructive glory, and others in the fleet did not want to get involved in it.
So what he saw were maintenance workers doing tedious work with plasma torches, not scum criminals lining up to be sent to the pyre.
I can only blame myself——
He thought with a wry smile.
Happy Winter Solstice everyone, eat more dumplings (#^.^#)
(End of this chapter)