He was about to give the order.
The front end of Alnitak One Fortress began to transform.
The sharp conical structure bloomed like petals, slowly spreading open in all directions.
All twelve Plasma Radiator Wings were fully deployed.
Inside, the barrel of the Starfall Cannon was revealed.
Twelve superconducting confinement rings were gradually activating.
A dark blue glow began to flow between the confinement rings.
It was charging.
Slate took a deep breath.
His voice exploded across the Bridge.
"Dispatch more reinforcements."
"To the Alnitak One direction, deploy the Orion Joint Fleet!"
"To the Alnitak Three direction, deploy the Ashes Joint Fleet!"
The orders were quickly relayed.
The Orion and Ashes Joint Fleets moved out simultaneously.
The number of ships in the Alnitak One direction surged dramatically.
The fleet in the Alnitak Three direction was also significantly reinforced.
Three fortresses, three directions.
A full-scale assault.
Slate stood on the Bridge, staring at the Tactical Screen.
On the screen, the gun muzzle of Alnitak One Fortress grew brighter and brighter.
As if it would finish charging at any second.
The deployment of the Orion and Ashes Joint Fleets completely shifted the balance of the battlefield.
These newly arrived warships poured out from the rear of the Imperial formation like two surging torrents, rushing towards the Alnitak One and Alnitak Three directions respectively.
Their hulls were brand new, their shields full, their Main Cannons already charged and ready.
They were utterly different from the older ships that had been fighting for so long.
The Vault Fleet's formation began to tremble.
Over sixty thousand warships.
Had to defend against attacks from both the Alnitak One and Alnitak Three directions simultaneously.
And facing them...
Two newly arrived Joint Fleets.
Plus the original forces of Ares and Pandora.
A twofold difference.
A full twofold disparity in numbers.
A single Federation warship often had to withstand simultaneous attacks from two, or even three, Imperial warships.
The port side had just withstood one volley when beams arrived from the starboard.
Shields had just begun to recharge when Missile swarms broke through the close-in fire nets.
The Vault Fleet was falling back.
Not in a rout.
But being pushed back step by step.
Those warships fought as they withdrew, their shields flaring and shattering, shattering and flaring again.
Some hulls trailed burning flames, some had half their Thrusters extinguished.
Some Bridges had long been pierced, their Command Systems completely Paralyzed, forcing the Executive Officer to continue directing from the damage control center using backup circuits.
But they were still returning fire.
Still firing their cannons.
Still dragging those Imperial warships down with them into the abyss of death.
Alnitak One Fortress.
The muzzle of the Starfall Cannon had reached its peak brightness.
Charged.
The next second, a blinding white light erupted from the muzzle.
This was no ordinary beam.
It was a sun.
A light of pure destruction, intense enough to sear eyes and devour everything.
The white light traversed the Void, slicing straight towards the Alnitak Two direction.
There, the advancing Imperial Fleet continued its push.
No one gave the order to Evade.
Because there was no time.
That light was too fast.
The white light swept past.
The Airspace in the Alnitak Two direction was instantly emptied by more than half.
After the white light passed.
Only a lavender ionization afterimage remained in that airspace.
The glow from that Starfall Cannon shot had just dissipated.
The Imperial Fleet from the direction of the Second Star, nearly a thousand warships, along with all matter in that airspace, had vanished.
The cost was heavy.
But the objective was achieved.
The remaining Imperial Fleet continued to advance forward, taking advantage of the fortress cannon's cooldown period.
Six million kilometers.
Five point five million kilometers.
Four million kilometers.
Closer and closer.
The gun muzzles of the Third Star Fortress had also begun charging.
Yet, at this moment, the battlefield was in complete chaos.
Imperial warships and Vault Fleet warships were entangled together, beams crisscrossing, wreckage drifting, and fighter craft weaving through.
Friend and foe identifiers on the tactical screen were jumbled together, almost indistinguishable.
If that Starfall Cannon fired now.
It wouldn't necessarily hit only enemies.
Third Star Fortress, Bridge of the Dragon Spring, flagship of the Dragon Spring Joint Fleet.
Admiral Wu Qianqiu stood before the command console, staring intently at the tactical screen.
On the screen, red dots representing the Imperial Fleet were rapidly approaching.
Simultaneously, blue dots representing the Federation Fleet were also closing in.
They were mixed together.
Tangled into a mess.
His brow furrowed into a knot, his fists clenched white.
On the screen, the blue dots of several more Federation warships went out.
They had been sunk by concentrated fire from Imperial warships.
If this continued, they wouldn't last much longer.
He abruptly turned around.
"Communications officer!"
"Here!"
"Connect me to the commander of the Third Star Fortress, Major General Xue Shaogong."
"Immediately."
The communications officer's fingers danced swiftly across the control console.
Three seconds later, the communication connected.
Major General Xue Shaogong's face appeared on the screen.
His expression was equally grave, with faint alarm sounds audible in the background.
Wu Qianqiu dispensed with pleasantries.
He spoke directly, his voice carrying an indisputable resolve.
"Fire the cannon."
Xue Shaogong was taken aback.
His gaze instinctively shifted to the tactical screen beside him.
On it, the identifiers of both friend and foe were already jumbled together.
"But..."
His voice carried obvious hesitation.
"Right now, our warships and the enemy's are in close combat. If we fire..."
He paused, then continued.
"We could easily cause friendly fire."
Wu Qianqiu didn't speak.
He just stared at Xue Shaogong, silent for a second.
Then his voice rang out again, heavier and more somber than before.
"I know."
Xue Shaogong opened his mouth.
Wu Qianqiu continued.
"But look closely..."
He reached out, pointing to the tactical screen beside him.
"How close have the Imperial warships already advanced?"
Xue Shaogong's eyes followed his finger.
Those red dots.
The closest were already less than three million kilometers from the fortress.
They were on the very edge of the Imperial capital ship main cannon's firing range.
Wu Qianqiu's voice echoed in the communication channel, carrying an indescribable complexity.
"If we don't fire now, and they continue to advance, entering the effective range of their main cannons..."
"That fortress cannon of ours will be targeted by their concentrated fire."
"By then, it will be too late to use it."
Xue Shaogong fell silent.
He looked at that screen, at those red dots drawing ever closer, at those blue dots entangled in combat with the red dots.
He knew Wu Qianqiu was right.
The Imperial Fleet's advance was too fast.
If they didn't seize this opportunity to deliver a fatal blow with the fortress cannon...
By the time they truly closed in, that cannon would become nothing more than a decoration.
But firing meant hitting their own people.
Those Federation warships fighting desperately in the thick of battle, those comrades still desperately holding back the Imperial Fleet.
They would be struck by their own artillery fire.
Xue Shaogong's Adam's apple bobbed.
He opened his mouth, wanting to say something.
But no words came out.
Wu Qianqiu looked at him, his voice lowering.
"I know what you're thinking."
"I also know this will hit our own people."
"But this is war."
"We have to make a choice."