The fighting in this war zone went on a full half month after that.
In that half month,
the flight squadron Zhao Chen belonged to,
went from excitement and eagerness at the start,
to numbness now, and even fear.
Their stretch of the void battle had become a meat grinder of interstellar air war.
Over a hundred million fighters and ten billion drones had by now been committed to this one battlefield.
By the information Zhao Chen could gather,
on average, each day on this battlefield,
at least a million fighters were destroyed.
So far the Star Alliance's losses here came to nearly twenty million fighters.
The other side's figure was much the same.
The loss ratio was all but one to one.
And both sides kept sending more fighters into this region.
Zhao Chen sat in the starship canteen by a floor-to-ceiling window; this seat cost extra.
An ordinary interstellar soldier would hardly spend so lavishly.
But to Zhao Chen it was only a string of numbers.
He ate a simple meal and watched the view beyond the window.
He could see a supply ship replenishing the mother ship.
In one half-transparent docking gallery, folded fighters were being brought across to make up the losses of these past days.
At the same time a transport had docked with the mother ship, and a body of troops was coming aboard.
Those were the newly arrived fighter pilots.
Beep, beep, beep.
Just then a message came to Zhao Chen's handheld terminal.
It was from the newly appointed group leader, ordering all squadron leaders to a certain compartment.
After this half month,
Zhao Chen's standing was wholly different from before.
However much Zhao Chen wished to keep a low profile,
he was now a squadron leader.
Leader of the Eighteenth Flight Squadron.
The establishment had been set at ten flight squadrons.
But because it was wartime, temporary expansion was allowed to keep fighter sortie rates up,
to be adjusted after the war.
For his excellent showing over this half month, Zhao Chen had not only been promoted to warrant officer.
He was also leader of a squadron of three hundred fighter pilots.
About this reward Zhao Chen himself felt rather helpless.
He finished the food before him quickly.
Then went to the compartment named.
In the compartment sat rows of people.
They wore uniforms and carried packs, and most looked rather young.
And at the front the squadron leaders were gathered together.
"Little Zhao." Lieutenant Zhang, seeing Zhao Chen come, waved to him.
The other leaders greeted Zhao Chen as well.
After fighting shoulder to shoulder this while, everyone had accepted this pilot who had transferred over from ground-air fighters.
And admired his flying on the battlefield besides.
"These are the newest batch of replacement pilots. In a moment we each pick and take ours. The group leader wants them able to fly fighters into combat within a day. Most of them are cadets from the various fighter academies." Lieutenant Zhang, no, he should now be called Lieutenant Zhang the First.
He had been promoted, as expected.
Most likely, once this campaign ended, he might even become a group leader if the chance came.
"A day, to teach these fresh eggs what a real battlefield is. Heh-heh-heh… In a week, three in ten of this lot alive would be lucky," a middle-aged squadron leader beside them said coldly.
'Newcomers' just made fighter pilots had the highest death rate.
Above all in their first five combat sorties.
Nearly half of all 'newcomers' could not pass that barrier.
"Here's the roster; by the old rule. Squadrons pick in order. Once a squadron's establishment is full, it drops out of the picking." Since the group leader was not present, Lieutenant Zhang was in charge here.
They began picking the newcomers.
And the newcomers sitting on the floor raised their heads like so many chicks, waiting to be chosen.
Zhao Chen picked the most.
For his Eighteenth Squadron was the newest, raised only just now.
One might say it had been raised precisely for his promotion to warrant officer.
An establishment of three hundred.
Apart from ten veterans assigned to Zhao Chen, all the rest had to be picked from these recruits.
A flight squadron like this was often called a death squad.
Its death rate on the first sortie would be very high.
Zhao Chen looked over the roster he had chosen.
The squadron leaders began calling the names on their lists.
Those called followed their leaders out.
Zhao Chen was in no hurry.
He had the most people anyway.
Once the other leaders had taken theirs away,
Zhao Chen looked at the nearly three hundred left, craning their heads at him, their leader.
Zhao Chen stepped forward, looked them over, and pointed at his rank badge. "My name is Zhao Chen, warrant officer. Leader of this mother ship's Third Flight Group, Eighteenth Squadron. You are all now members of the Eighteenth Squadron. Everyone, on your feet; come with me."
With that, Zhao Chen walked ahead without looking back.
The fresh recruits followed behind.
And among them, no few began grumbling under their breath.
"How rotten our luck is. We've landed in a death squad."
"We're recruits and a death squad both, a double helping… ah…"
"What does 'death squad' mean?" asked one guileless recruit.
"You don't even know that? So many people joining our squadron at once means it's newly raised, or rebuilt. Nobody knows anybody; there's no understanding between us at all, so on the battlefield our chances of living naturally drop. The others at least have veterans to look after them. And us? A death squad and recruits both. In the records, a squadron like this has a death rate as high as seven in ten in its first battle! Only after that battle is such a squadron truly established. And we're the foundation stones it's built on."
The recruits heard this.
Fear showed in no few of the recruits' eyes.
Soon Zhao Chen brought them to a ready room.
This one was rather cramped, being a reserve room.
Zhao Chen looked at them all, seated now.
He folded his arms and said calmly, "A death squad… all newcomers… a death rate as high as seven in ten… I know most of you are well aware of that."
As Zhao Chen spoke, a presence came off him outright.
Wholly unlike a moment before.
The veterans beside him looked at this leader in some surprise.
How was it that this leader's presence felt more daunting than the group leader's?
"In theory, that is indeed so. But so long as you obey my orders and my dispositions in the fighting. I can promise that in your first battle to come. Your death rate will be under two in ten! I will see most of you come back here safe and sound."
Zhao Chen's gaze was keen. "I, Zhao Chen, promise you that!"