In that instant the Eighteenth Squadron seemed to be roasting over lava.
And sinking slowly into it; being ground to powder was only a matter of time.
But Zhao Chen had no other course now.
He could only use his command to get what coordination he could out of his own side.
The rest he could leave only to fate.
"Squadron Leader! More than half our fighters have spent their star-shield energy. The other half average only three tenths left! Each craft has fewer than three missiles on average," Deputy Leader Li reported anxiously.
Zhao Chen was silent a moment, then said calmly, "Keep fighting."
Deputy Leader Li knew very well that however able their leader was, he could not turn this round.
They could only wait.
"Reporting, large numbers of enemy fighters on the battlefield's left flank. They will threaten our formation shortly!"
"Reporting, enemy fighters on the right flank as well. Our craft at the battlefield's edge are under attack."
Listening to the channel, Zhao Chen said nothing.
Was this truly the end?
Had Zhao Chen been a commander, he might have had many means.
But now he was only a petty officer a little above the lowest soldier.
Commanding a few hundred fighters, thrown into this battlefield, he could raise only a splash.
And after the splash, nothing but ripples fading away.
"Little Zhao, hold on. Your brother's coming!"
Suddenly a familiar voice came over the channel.
The corners of Zhao Chen's mouth turned up.
"Brother Zhang, any later and you wouldn't have found me here."
The newcomer was Lieutenant Zhang, who had looked after Zhao Chen all along.
"Ha-ha-ha-ha. Can't be helped; I haven't your fine talents, lad. Out of the belt and into their warship positions in under five minutes. The General even commended you and your squadron on the open channel. When this battle's over you'll be a field officer. And I'll have to call you 'sir' when I see you."
Listening to Lieutenant Zhang,
Zhao Chen said, "Stop talking; talk any more and I truly will be finished."
"Right you are. Second Squadron, go in and kill! Don't leave all the glory to the Eighteenth!"
Listening to the channel, Zhao Chen looked at his radar.
He could see great numbers of friendly fighters charging out.
Not only Lieutenant Zhang's Second Squadron, but other flights as well.
A hundred… three hundred… five hundred… a thousand…
Only now did Zhao Chen truly breathe again.
And just then a video window popped up before him.
He had supposed it was only a superior calling.
But the man before him was, of all people, the general who had first made him an interstellar fighter pilot.
"Good day, General!"
"Zhao Chen, you have done very well this time. You saved time for our offensive and greatly lessened our casualties. Now you and your squadron may stand by where you are, or choose your moment to withdraw to the temporary base in the rear to rest and resupply," the General said in praise.
"Thank you, General!" Zhao Chen said formally.
In truth, more than any reward, having his squadron pulled out of the fight was what he most wanted to see.
"Rest well. After the battle I will summon you myself."