The Collapse of the Female Soldier

Fatty felt extremely aggrieved in his heart.

Tears streamed down his face as rain poured from the sky.

This was an unbearable situation.

They wouldn't let him leave without a fight, and when he wanted to leave, he couldn't. In the end, they gave him a way out, but abandoned him here. Despite his tears, Jake Tenorio was no fool. He picked up his gun and turned to run deep into the jungle with swift movements, like a fat rabbit.

As long as the Imperial mechas didn't enter the jungle, Fatty had an 80% chance of escaping and returning to the camp. If these mechas chased after the Federation mechas, it would be even better.

Fatty could run at a fast speed across open terrain. Once he plunged into the not-so-rapid Golden Glade River with his fat and well-armed body, he could easily swim back to the camp with the best record in the whole battalion. He could enjoy some big chunks of roasted meat, drink a cup of hot chocolate or tea, and if he was lucky, maybe even find some alcohol. Jake quickly shook his head to dismiss these foolish thoughts. Thinking about these things when he was tired, hungry, and heartbroken only made him feel more desperate.

He had to find a hiding place first. If the heavy mechas that arrived on the battlefield didn't chase north, but instead stayed to mop up the scattered single mechas, then this forest would unintentionally become their base camp.

The fatty could almost imagine himself being caught and then skinned alive like a sheep, suspended from a tree and whipped mercilessly for his excess weight.

It was truly a pitiful sight.

He vaguely discerned the direction and ran frantically. To increase his chances of survival, he needed to obtain some tools.

The former base of the Federal Armor Corps was not far from the woods. The fatty arrived quickly at the camp. He rummaged through some crates and found a few individual grenades, a large compressed solid energy block, and a disassembled energy cannon.

The most important item was a mechanical arm used by a maintenance engineer. With it, the fatty could assemble all sorts of vehicles from any parts he could find in a short amount of time. In the previous 20 escapes, he had used this method to run away 15 times. The materials he had this time looked much more abundant than before.

However, the weight of these items was too heavy for the fatty to carry alone. He quickly dug a hole with the mechanical arm used for maintenance and buried everything except for the grenades. Then, without hesitation, he set a fire and ran away.

When the fire ignited the ammunition and caused an explosion according to Jake's plan, the poor and lonely mechanical maintenance engineer had already arrived at a smelly swamp in the center of the woods.

It took him only a few minutes to bury himself completely. He left only a hollow tube protruding from the grass to the edge of the swamp to avoid infrared and biological radar detection. Relying solely on the anti-detection combat suit on his body was not enough. The fatty lowered his breathing and heartbeat to a dangerous level. This was one of the many strange techniques taught to him by his bear-like instructor in reconnaissance training camp.

Jake Tenorio had an extraordinary talent for these strange techniques. He always thought that if he could stay buried like this until the end of the war, he wouldn't mind burying himself a little deeper.

As the fatty had anticipated, the Imperial Mecha Squad outside the woods did not pursue him. Instead, they contacted the scattered individual mechas and began to converge on the fatty's location. According to their operational plan, this would be their forward base for attacking Rome. This meant that if the fatty wanted to crawl out of the swamp after they left, he might as well carve another tombstone for himself.

Poor Jake was unaware of this. As soon as he relaxed, fatigue swept over him like a tide, and he quickly fell asleep in the swamp.

At this time, the command center of the Lumina Federation was in chaos. Phones rang incessantly while the central computer processed thousands of pieces of frontline information. The military staff looked lifeless as they inputted one war-related message after another into a virtual sandbox.

The virtual image of the Nebulae star above the floating hall was riddled with holes, and the red color representing the Empire was rapidly spreading at an alarming speed. Out of the sixty-plus immigrant cities, more than forty had been surrounded, and sixteen of them had already been captured. There was one city that had turned completely black, a sign of its complete destruction.

Meanwhile, the Federation's ground defense forces were left in disarray and fighting independently after losing their aerial capabilities. Large blocks representing the Federation's military strength were being separated by the red Empire, disappearing quickly.

Inside the command center, General Gunter, who was in charge of commanding the troops, was reporting the situation to the President who had arrived at the headquarters.

"Up to this point, the Federation has completely lost control of five immigrant planets. The 11th and 12th space fleets stationed in the Cassiopeia Galaxy have been almost entirely destroyed. The only ones who managed to escape were a Dreadnought-class battleship, several light cruisers, and a Dominator-class carrier that survived due to a rotation in duty. The Nebulae local fleet stationed in the Newton galaxy, after losing 50% of its warships due to the disparity in power compared to the enemy, has been evacuated from the Pegasus galaxy with the approval of the command center."

General Gunter's voice was a little hoarse. From the unannounced war with the Celestria Empire to the present, it had been half a year. Due to the Federation's lack of long-term war preparations, it was unable to organize sufficient defense forces, making it impossible to counterattack. The Lumina Federation, which possessed three major star domains and eight galaxies, was facing a severe test.

In the face of the well-prepared Celestria Empire with overwhelming military power, the Lumina Federation has always been at a disadvantage. The dovish government and parliament, which dominate the Lumina Federation, have been too complacent towards the Celestria Royal Family with a history of aggression and bloodline. Proposals from the military to increase the budget have been repeatedly rejected.

With a shortage of funds, outdated ships, and inadequate training, Gunter feels helpless. A large number of academic commanders in the military have never experienced the baptism of war, as Lumina Federation has been at peace for too long. The brilliant stars of the older generation in the revolutionary war have become names in history textbooks and statues on the lawns of military academies.

Now, what the Lumina Federation needs is time. A nationwide mobilization order has been issued. Factories and shipyards are working at full capacity to produce mechas and warships. Waves of soldiers are entering the military camps for training. Will time bring the dawn of victory to Lumina?

"The First Combined Army Group of the Fourth, Sixth, and Seventh Space Fleets has assembled in the central star field of Lumina. Due to the space jump points being blocked by the Celestria Empire's space fleet, it is no longer possible to forcibly jump to reinforce the Orion Galaxy. Therefore, the Command has issued orders to block the jump points between Lumina and the Pegasus Galaxy, and the First Combined Army Group will defend in place," Gunter said, looking at the President, who was frowning while holding a teacup, without any expression.

"Meanwhile, the First, Second, and Eighth Space Fleets, which have been withdrawn from the Astralis Star Field, are assembling in the rear. Maintenance of the ships and replenishment of ammunition personnel will take some time. The Third and Ninth Space Fleets have already set out as ordered, detouring through public star fields to search for jump points to the Pegasus Galaxy. The Fifth and Tenth Space Fleets are still responsible for guarding the security of the capital star," Gunter continued.

"The local fleets have begun comprehensive reorganization, and with the addition of ships and personnel, it is expected to expand by five to six mixed fleets."

President Dalton finally put down his teacup and waved his hand, saying, "Tell me about your difficulties. What do you need me to do? As long as it's what the military needs, I will support it unconditionally."

Pausing for a moment, the President continued, "The situation domestically is very unstable. With five immigrant planets, nearly 300 cities, and billions of people, if we lose any of them, the public demands a counterattack. The opposition party is also fanning the flames. If we lose Nebulae again, we will be completely passive, and there will be no base for a strategic counterattack."

Seeing Gunter about to speak, the President raised his hand to stop him and stood up, pacing to the window with his back to the general. "I know what you want to say, but we have no retreat. If we can't hold onto Nebulae, I will become the first President in federal history to resign in disgrace, and you will become the first general to be dismissed. Without sacrifice, there is no victory. Even if it's a gamble, we can only fight to the death and live on, taking this one chance."

Turning around, the President gestured for his secretary to hand a document to Gunter and said, "This is all the strength that the federal mobilization can accumulate within three months. I believe that as long as we can hold on for these three months, we can achieve a strategic balance and rely on our resources and production capacity, which are nearly double that of the Celestria Empire, to launch a comprehensive counterattack within a year."

"No sacrifice, no victory," Gunter repeated this sentence over and over again.

"Even if it's just one city, one armed force, we must resist to the end. Nebulae must not fall completely into the hands of Celestria. The people need victory, and we will give it to them. The media needs heroes, and we will give them heroes." The President's gaze was much calmer than his tone. "Seize the jump point, quickly reinforce Nebulae, unify the ground resistance forces, shape the federal heroes, and strive for local victories. Do you understand what I am saying?"

Gunter nodded heavily. He suddenly realized that he was no longer just a soldier. He had to consider political needs more than military ones.

"I hope that the choices we make are all correct," he said quietly.

Watching the President's back as he walked away, the general thought to himself.

Jake Tenorio slowly crawled out of the mud pit, the discomfort of being buried in the stinky mud for half a day and night evident on his face.

In the mud pit, Jake Tenorio knew he had messed up this time.

Imperial mechs, transport vehicles, and soldiers were constantly shuttling back and forth in the jungle. It seemed like the Empire was planning to establish a base here until the end of the war. They had even cleared a small patch of land in the forest to serve as an airstrip for small transport ships to land. Troops and supplies were constantly gathering here, piling up like mountains.

Even though he was in a mud pit, the rotund man had a keen sense of the type and size of the Imperial forces stationed here, just by listening to the sounds around him. It was the only pastime he had while hiding in the mud. Jake Tenorio remained motionless, "observing" the dreaded Empire.

In the past day and night, the Empire had been struck twice by the Federal Air Force, but they seemed to have concealed themselves well, as their resources and manpower did not suffer significant losses.

As the Imperial Air Force strengthened its air blockade, nothing made Jake happy in the jungle anymore. Disguised as a huge clump of mud in the grass, the fatty's brain kept spinning.

"Damn it, if this keeps up, I'll either be discovered and killed or starve to death."

If it weren't for his patriotic education since childhood, fear of torture, and reluctance to leave his flying car in the villa back home in the capital, the fatty would have almost walked straight over and surrendered to the Empire.

"No matter what, I have to escape from here." The fatty thought fiercely, "If I keep up like this, I'll probably be blown to pieces before I can run out of this forest."

After much thought, the fatty was at a loss. It seemed that he wouldn't be able to escape without taking risks.

As a reconnaissance soldier, in such a situation, he would normally resort to methods such as assassinating enemy officers, blowing up targets, disguising himself, locking onto targets with guided missiles, poisoning water sources, and creating chaos to survive. But for the fatty, these were too dangerous, and he almost didn't want to think about them.

Assassinate an officer? If the officer dies, the fatty dies too.

Blow up a target? If the material explodes, he'll be dead too.

Disguise himself as an enemy soldier? Is he watching a movie? The fatty only knows a few words in the Empire's language and has heard the password, but what if he can't find suitable clothes? He usually has to go to a special store for big-size clothes to buy his clothes.

Guided by the Air Force? Are there any surviving Federal aircraft left, even if they are ace pilots, breaking through the blockade of the Imperial Air Force is not easy.

Poison the water source? The fatty is only a mechanical maintenance soldier now, not a special soldier with a little bit of everything in his treasure trove. Poison?

The fatty felt like his brain was going to explode, caught between a rock and a hard place.

"Damn it! Let's do it!" Once pushed to a desperate situation, the fatty's single-man temperament emerged again.

Jake Tenorio didn't know if he was lucky or unlucky.

He had just made up his mind and was encouraging himself when he saw a group of tall and sturdy imperial soldiers escorting two federal prisoners into the jungle. It happened to pass by the fatty's side.

What a rare opportunity! Without thinking too much, the fatty acted on impulse. With a leap, he grabbed the imperial soldier, twisted his head with a crisp sound, and the whole person fell down like a ragdoll with his neck twisted into a twist by a child. It was his first time killing someone, and it wasn't as simple as the fatty had imagined. He quickly stabbed the soldier's throat with a dagger in his other hand and followed up with a knee strike, fiercely hitting the soldier's groin.

When he laid down the corpse, he still couldn't help but give the unlucky soldier's head a butt with the gunstock, and then he dragged the body into the bushes like a thief.

It took less than five seconds from start to finish.

The fatty's legs were trembling non-stop, and his heart was pounding so hard that it almost jumped out of his chest.

He had killed someone, and it was no joke.

In just a few moves, he had taken care of the imperial soldier. The two female prisoners, a pilot and a medic, who were watching dumbfounded, were beautiful and stunning.

The fatty didn't have time to care about these two stunned female soldiers. He shamelessly stripped off his clothes and put on the uniform of the imperial soldier.

The two federal female soldiers felt like they were about to collapse.

Who on earth was this white and fatty? Was he some kind of monster?