Waiving the Storm - 2

S.C. (Standard Calendar): 3283 - Mon - 24th - 8:53AM (24h/day)

L.T. (Local Time): 17:21 (36h/day)

Adbumeir State - Riveridge Galaxy - Fishergarden Planet - Main Continent - Highland 330

In the command post located slightly behind the second defense line, Sharr adjusted the numb arm of his powered exoskeleton, feeling the unpleasant signals from the friction of his left shoulder joint and still-healing muscles. His thumb twitched on the binoculars perched above the observation slit. 

Sunlight streamed into the observation port, and Sharr's loose camouflage combat suit had absorbed enough sweat to darken the fabric on his chest. Nevertheless, peering through the retro-style monocular telescope, Sharr continued to focus intently on the seemingly ordinary bombardment. With each explosion seen through the lens, the thunderous blast of fragmented projectiles reverberated in his ears, bringing his thoughts back to the months of warfare and the star cluster beneath his feet.

Anyone with discerning eyes could see that the defenses of Riveridge Galaxy were a construction site in progress. But no one could blame the builders: its development time was less than 70 years, and the decision to use it as a garrison location was made in the year 3241. Constructing defenses around a single star system with thirteen planets and countless asteroids was a headache for whoever took on the task. Fortunately, when Riveridge Galaxy was chosen to be a fortress galaxy, the appointed defense chief understood this well. The first phase of construction focused on Fishergarden Planet, which concentrated most of the galaxy's production capacity and population. The peripheral planets responsible for raw material supply and basic processing only had facilities built sufficient to defend against pirates.

Therefore, whether it was the builders of that time or current defenders, they did not consider the entire galaxy as a defense target. After the first attack last May, the Galaxy Defense Command calmly designated Fishergarden and the two adjacent planets as the core defense zone, while all the peripheral celestial bodies were classified as an intercept buffer zone. This strategy aimed to concentrate forces and resources, control the largest and most stable curvature navigation point in the galaxy to maintain communication with the outside world...

"Buzz!..."

The low hum of the surveillance drone passing by briefly pulled Sharr's consciousness back from his thoughts. The scorching sun still hung overhead, and explosions continued within the telescope's field of view.

"(Cough), how long has it been since the Fifth Regiment reported the bombing?" Sharr lowered the binoculars in his hand and cleared his throat, asking.

"Sir !The Fifth Regiment observation post reported enemy bombardment at 8:41! It is now 8:57, 16 minutes have passed!" The voice, clear but lacking the booming confidence of most signal corps soldiers in training and battlefield orders, indicated a youthful quality. The meticulous report revealed the speaker's relatively inexperienced background, but Sharr harbored no discontent. In the recent offensive, even his own chief of staff was lost. It was already a quite fortune to quickly conscript a soldier capable of maintaining the entire communication system.

"Well... any word from the front command?" Sharr turned to look at the tactical panel embedded in concrete, unsure if the movement of his body or the memories had triggered the twinge.

"No news yet!" The voice, with a youthful yet not piercing tone, responded once again.

With nothing else to discern, Sharr walked back to the observation port. The drone that interrupted his thoughts had turned into a speck in the smoke. Staring at the surveillance aircraft hovering on the front line, Sharr squinted slightly, as if eager to see himself hanging under the sighting device to find out what was hidden after this seemingly ordinary fireworks display.

"Sigh..." He sighed lightly, resigned, and through the roar in the lens, Sharr returned to the battlefield of thoughts.

Thanks to the correct strategy, the space defense system of Fishergarden was finally repaired before the galaxy was completely besieged. Although the control over two adjacent planets was lost during the four months' defense without external reinforcements, the loss of the entire surrounding galaxy and the hopelessness of external communication allowed the defenders of the galaxy to conduct guerrilla warfare freely without being dragged into a fixed defense by the gains and losses of the curvature navigation point. Moreover, with the stockpiled resources, fuels, massive populations, and a complete industrial chain, Fishergarden's surface was rich in water, constituting more than 70% of the galaxy. The planetary defense, coupled with the fleet's main force preserved through coordinated efforts, was enough to support another year...

It was supposed to be like this.

....... (Sharr's memories for a moment a few days ago)

"Summer sweating, insects biting," a phrase often mentioned by the locals, took on a deeper meaning for Sharr this night.

Under the night shrouded by clouds, the moist sea breeze and the steam from the heavy movement quickly soaked himself into the water bag. Annoying mosquitoes, attracted by the sweet scent of blood, persistently harassed his hearing, occasionally testing the sensitivity of their prey. Thanks to his posture, the sweat on his face quickly slid down his contours to his chin and dropped to the ground. A gentle tap with the back of his hand prevented a few drops from infiltrating his eyes. Yet, against these tireless pests, to avoid making more significant noise, he could only endure and let them be.

Of course, Sharr had no hobby of walking in the dark with a black lamp, even though the night was good for stargazing with the natural glow. However, 'the night is good' certainly did not include being chased by someone with a gun in armored pursuit.

"Hiss, whoosh..."

The clear tone of the illumination shell covered the murmurs of insects, and the magnesium-white trajectory behind the orange-red tail flame cut through the thick darkness. A chilling cold surged from the soles of Sharr's feet to his forehead, and in the sudden brightness, instinct took over decision-making. With a determined sideways lunge, he grabbed the slightly exposed figure, turned sideways, and rolled into a shallow ditch covered with bushes on the side. Even in bright conditions, only a combat suit issued to recruits at the time of enlistment could be seen on the person, with all identification removed. However, maintaining the formation's march forward, Sharr was well aware that this was his division's chief of staff.

Without asking or unnecessary movements, the two of them tacitly lay in the ditch, waiting silently for the flare to burn out.

The white light dispersed, and peace returned to the night. In the disciplined observation for a few minutes, apart from the usual annoying mosquitoes and the rustling of grass and trees, all was quiet. No footsteps, no sustained light sources, and the sentry dozens of steps away signaled that no pursuers had been discovered. The seemingly unexplained illumination shell was thus digested by the night, as if it had never happened.

The chief of staff propped himself up, his limp evident. He had been hit by a stray bullet during the withdrawal of the armored division the day before, luckily only grazing a piece of flesh from his thigh without injuring ligaments or bones. Sharr supported his chief's arm, and in turn, extended his left arm under his armpit. The chief of staff stopped Sharr, lightly tapping his thigh to indicate that he didn't need help.

Facing the determined insistence of this old soldier, Sharr did not insist. He withdrew his arm and gestured to the guards to continue forward...