The Fleet Commander stared blankly at the virtual screen on the control console, murmuring, "Who are they, whose fleet is this?"
No answer.
The mottled and tattered hull had only a few large patches of blue and white, blurry and indistinct, making it impossible to identify any markings that could indicate its identity.
Even after being assaulted by Energy Cannons and torpedoes, the scrapped-looking vessels remained in a near-derelict state. After ramming into one sturdy Armed Merchant Ship and three Escort Ships, it still looked the same; even the rust on the hull seemed intact.
What could be more terrifying than this?
The Fleet Commander slumped dejectedly in his command chair. He knew that for the remaining two Transport Ships, a worse fate awaited—they had managed to turn around but had no time to accelerate and escape.
The attacking fleet had crashed in too close, and the main propulsion of the two Transport Ships was now fully exposed to the energy cannons of these wolves.
