The Swift fighter group surged forth like killer bees unleashed from their hive.
Trailing azure-blue exhaust flames, they pierced like arrows into the chaotic airspace outside the Abuja Stellar Ring.
Their appearance was undoubtedly the final straw for the already terrified Imperial Transport Fleet.
"Fighters! Federation fighters are out!"
"Evasive maneuvers! Now!"
"Don't block the way! Let me in!"
The communication channels were completely flooded with desperate shouts and frantic curses.
Although these transport ships carried no weapons, they bore the Imperial insignia and were tasked with military logistics.
They were not protected by the provisions of the Interstellar War Law regarding attacks on non-military vessels.
Thus, in the eyes of the Federation pilots, they were nothing but moving Merit Points, lambs ready for slaughter.
Some transport ships saw the Abuja Stellar Ring as their last lifeline.
They surged even more desperately toward the still-usable berths.
Or into the shadows of the ring structure.
The narrow guidance channels and dock entrances were instantly jammed beyond capacity.
Collisions became inevitable.
A medium-sized transport ship, frantic to secure a spot in the inner port, scraped heavily against the belly of another cargo ship that was adjusting its position laterally.
The screech of tearing metal seemed audible even through the vacuum.
Sparks erupted from the point of friction, and both ships lost control simultaneously, spinning and crashing into the nearby dock gate.
Boom!
The thick alloy gate was dented inward and shattered.
Debris shot inward, sweeping small service craft and ground crew inside the port who couldn't evade in time into the disaster.
More transport ships collided and rear-ended each other in the chaos, as if a traffic accident had been transplanted into space.
Transport ships with damaged hulls and failed engines continuously lost control, becoming floating obstacles.
However, another portion of the transport ships made the opposite choice. They pushed their engines to maximum thrust, blindly fleeing toward deep space away from the stellar ring.
Their bulky hulls and sluggish acceleration appeared clumsy and laughable in the face of the agile Swift fighters.
"Stinger to all squad members, free hunt. Prioritize targets attempting to flee."
Xie Zhixing's voice sounded over the formation channel.
"Watch for remnants of the ring belt anti-air fire. Don't get too close."
"Chick, follow me. Let's find a small target to practice on first."
Ma Xiaoyuan followed closely behind and to the side of Xie Zhixing's fighter. On his helmet display, countless light points representing transport ships moved erratically, like a school of fish startled into chaos.
His heart was still racing, but Xie Zhixing's steady voice and the clear targets before him gradually replaced that panic with focus.
"See that transport ship trying to slip away from the nine o'clock direction?"
Xie Zhixing's fighter tilted slightly, making a signaling maneuver.
"Its engine signature is strong, but its turning is clumsy. Follow me to intercept its escape path."
The two Swift fighters traced elegant arcs, like birds of prey on the hunt, instantly locking onto that desperately accelerating Imperial transport ship.
The transport ship seemed to sense the danger and began clumsily performing irregular zigzag maneuvers, but for fighter craft, such movements were far too slow.
"Lock onto it, kid. Use your eyes," Xie Zhixing said.
Ma Xiaoyuan took a deep breath and, following his training and the captain's instructions, fixed his gaze firmly on the transport ship's engine nozzles, which glowed brightly from overloading. The helmet's tracking system responded instantly. A red pre-aiming reticle steadily locked onto the target, with data such as distance and relative speed constantly refreshing beside it.
"Fire."
Almost instinctively, Ma Xiaoyuan pulled the trigger on the control stick as soon as Xie Zhixing finished speaking.
Zzzzt—!
A short burst of fire. The two pulse laser cannons beneath the fighter's nose spat out deadly beams. Several dazzling rays streaked across the void, most landing on the armor at the rear of the transport ship, carving out small molten pits and scattering fine sparks. One beam luckily pierced the edge of the engine protective cover, causing a small-scale leak and flames.
"Well done, first blood," Xie Zhixing praised, before his fighter executed a nimble roll. A small dogfight missile mounted under the wing detached from its rack and streaked toward the target, trailing flames. The missile precisely penetrated the breach Ma Xiaoyuan had created.
Boom!
A larger explosion erupted from the transport ship's rear, obliterating the entire engine array. The powerless hull immediately began to decelerate and tumble. Escape pods, possibly carrying struggling occupants, ejected from within, resembling tiny fireflies.
Ma Xiaoyuan watched the explosion's fiery glow, a complex emotion welling up inside him. But it was quickly interrupted by Xie Zhixing's urgent call.
"Don't space out! Next target! Two o'clock direction—that transport ship is trying to hide behind the large debris!"
There was no time for sentiment on the battlefield. Looking around, the entire airspace on the outskirts of the Abuja Ring had become a hunting ground for Swift fighters. Everywhere, scenes of pursuit and destruction unfolded.
One fighter swept a dense barrage of autocannon fire, turning a small transport ship's bridge portholes into a honeycomb, causing it to lose control and collide with a friendly vessel. Several fighter formations fired volleys of air-to-ship missiles, swarming like bees and enveloping a large transport ship in continuous explosions, ultimately tearing it apart. Other pilots showcased their skills by flying close to the surface of the ring belt, using precise shots to pick off isolated close-in defense turrets still attempting to resist.
Every transport ship destroyed meant another entry of Military Merit and another link brutally severed in the Empire's logistics chain.
Ma Xiaoyuan piloted his Chick, closely following Xie Zhixing's trajectory, weaving through the fiery blasts, flying debris, and chaotic electromagnetic waves. His trigger pulls grew increasingly decisive, and his target locks became quicker and more precise.
Stargate, Marbas and Abaddon Joint Fleet Command Headquarters.
The piercing emergency communication alarm delivered the grim news of the attack on the Abuja Stellar Ring like a bucket of ice water to Admirals Scott and Armstrong.
On the tactical star chart, the icon representing the Abuja Ring flashed with glaring red alerts, while catastrophic data labels—such as "under attack," "structural damage," and "energy core offline"—frantically refreshed beside it.
"Bastards!" Admiral Scott slammed a fist onto the control console, the hard alloy surface emitting a dull thud.
The veins at his temples throbbed, his eyes blazing with a fury that seemed almost materialized.
"Those treacherous Federation worms!
What else can they do besides sneak attacks?
If they have the guts, let's line up our forces and fight fair and square!"
On the other side of the communication screen, Admiral Armstrong's brows were tightly furrowed into a deep crease.
He stared at the star chart, his fingers unconsciously tapping on the desk.
Compared to Scott's explosive rage, he remained unusually silent, but beneath that silence lay even deeper suspicion and a chilling dread.
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