To tell the truth, that baffling barrel roll just now—that pointless spin executed while running for his life with over two hundred Great Spike craft trailing behind him... rather than Yang Qingbai representing the Expeditionary Force to greet Mars and Pegmont, it was better to simply admit that he had just gotten high off piloting the craft.
It was a unique romance and passion exclusive to the battlefield, and especially to the fraternity of aerial combat pilots. Factors of excitement and euphoria now flooded every single cell of Major General Yang's body.
He and his ship, the CA117, had just successfully fought their way out of airspace blockaded by over two hundred Great Spike craft.
And provoked every last one of them into coming after him.
That thrill of life and death hanging by a millimeter, survival decided second by second; that sense that every maneuver, choice, and coordination determined fate and history; along with the crushing responsibility and pressure wrapped within it all... everything made Yang Qingbai feel incomparably thrilled and exhilarated.
Unlike Han Qingyu—who in his heart had only ever wanted to live a quiet, peaceful life, and had only been compelled to act because he had unknowingly reached this point—Yang Qingbai seemed born to love this kind of thing.
Yet, as one of humanity's source energy craft pilots, they had been accustomed to being protected so they could protect others for far too long. Even as the strongest among them, he was hardly an exception.
Therefore, under such circumstances and in this airspace, successfully completing such a thrilling and daring flight was nothing short of a fantasy fulfilled.
It was a fantasy Yang Qingbai had once harbored, and perhaps also the dream in the heart of every human craft pilot. These people, who on the battlefield were constantly told that safety had to come first at all times, seemed always more prone to, and fonder of, dreaming of wild adventure.
Besides that, there had been another feeling just now that was equally special and wonderful to Yang Qingbai—the sensation of holding the helm of a source energy craft and possessing formidable firepower for the very first time.
One had to know that humanity's source energy craft had never been mounted with offensive weaponry (save for a small portion retrofitted with dead iron battering rams), nor possessed any means of attack beyond direct ramming.
Of course, the Great Spike craft were largely the same in this regard, a reality dictated by the powerful logic of source energy and dead iron and their energetic peculiarities.
It seemed like a shortcoming—no, not "seemed"; to all human pilots who had chosen to join Azure out of a yearning for combat, it was undoubtedly an immense shortcoming.
Just moments ago, Yang Qingbai had finally made up for this shortcoming. For the first time, the CA117 possessed offensive firepower, and an incomparably formidable weapon configuration at that. "Its" name was Han Qingyu.
"Come on, haha! Daddy's gonna run you bastards into the ground today!"
In a sudden burst of childishness, Yang Qingbai blurted out his internal monologue, his face and eyes alight with excitement like an unruly kid who had just poked a giant hornets' nest at the village entrance, completely oblivious to the fact that the swarm was out for his blood.
"If I end up caught or cornered, I'll fire the cannons... no, fire the human! Hehehehe..."
Although he knew that Qingzi wasn't actually omnipotent, and that if the CA117 were truly boxed in, even Qingzi wouldn't be able to turn the tide, the feeling of being able to think like this was simply sublime.
Yang Qingbai grinned, eyeing the dense swarm of red dots pursuing frantically on his monitor while listening to the ultra-high-power planetary broadcast booming outside.
At the same time, the ship swooshed, banking sharply into a wide turn.
He threw off the intercept angles of two newly launched Great Spike craft ahead, and nearly made them crash headlong into the pursuing swarm behind...
The passion and adrenaline were still running high. A desperate, edge-of-survival flight like this was undoubtedly a rare experience in life.
What was more, the main fleet's flanking landing maneuver was not yet complete, and Pegmont might not even have heard the notice; the CA117 had every reason to keep stalling and maneuvering in this sector.
What was even more, Yang Qingbai had no clue at all how he was actually going to shake off the pursuit, or how this situation would ultimately wrap up.
He had considered this briefly before setting off, without mentioning it to anyone, and once operations began, he hadn't spared it another thought.
Because it seemed virtually unsolvable.
He would probably have to keep flying with them on his tail indefinitely.
No one could take his place at the controls. Not even another pilot; if someone else took over, the CA117 probably wouldn't last three minutes before getting obliterated midair.
"Wonder how many I can pull away in the end. It'd be great if they all followed me.
"As long as I can find a good opportunity to drop Qingzi off somewhere he can break away, that's enough.
"..."
A 1 vs. 200 battlefield, and the number of Great Spike craft was still rising. People usually described this as penetrating deep into enemy territory alone, or fighting a solitary battle. In any case, that word "solitary" always carried a tinge of solemn tragedy and desolation.
Solitude was a funny thing: it made some people terrified and panicked, yet set others' blood boiling in quiet fervor.
Just imagine: one man, one ship, parading across the skies of Mars trailing over two hundred Great Spike craft. Look down at the surface of this alien world, at the vast wilderness and rolling hills flashing past in a continuous blur.
And soon, you'll be leading a train of Great Spike craft all by yourself into the deep reaches of space...
This so-called solitude, at times, was actually magnificent and heroic.
Flap, flap! Following its turn, a small rear hatch on the CA117 suddenly popped open, and a giant piece of red cloth fluttered out (not ordinary fabric, but the same material as human source energy combat uniforms, or else at such high speeds it would not only fail to unfurl, but be ripped to shreds by the air in an instant). Strictly speaking, it was a flag.
The crimson banner of Stream Blades, emblazoned with a giant moth rushing into the flame.
Strictly speaking, reason dictated hanging Azure's flag, but unfortunately that thing was blue and nowhere near eye-catching enough, so Yang Qingbai had quite reasonably chosen the battle flag of Stream Blades instead.
Flap, flap! The enormous red banner whipped in the wind. This made the CA117—the only human source energy craft currently flying under the Martian sky—look all the more unique and conspicuous.
If the swarm of Great Spike craft in the sky hadn't been drawn over right away earlier, this was exactly what Yang Qingbai had planned to do.
As for now, he hoped Pegmont might see it.
He also let his mind wander for a moment, imagining himself piloting the craft alone afterward, trailing the red banner of Stream Blades and leading a swarm of Great Spike craft endlessly into the tranquil depths of the universe, on and on and on...
"That picture would look pretty damn good."
The transmission of sound on Mars seemed far less efficient than on Blue Star. Even using an ultra-high-power loudspeaker, Qingzi's words didn't travel very far.
By doing this, Yang Qingbai undoubtedly increased the chances of Pegmont learning that the human Expeditionary Force had arrived.
Well, let him know, and that would be that.
As for how he would find the army after learning this, Yang Qingbai—not being a combat freak himself—couldn't fathom it at all. He just figured that for monsters like Pegmont and Qingzi, it probably wouldn't be too hard.
"Qingbai," seeing the banner, Han Qingyu finally spoke up, asking, "Do you think any of these Great Spikes can understand our speech or read our words? I mean English. If not, once the fleet transmits their landing coordinates, should I include the location in the broadcast, or carve it into some stone mountain with my blade?"
In fact, during the silence just now, Han Qingyu had also been contemplating how this flight would ultimately end, and how Yang Qingbai and the other personnel aboard the ship were going to escape... He couldn't figure it out. (So long as the craft could not decelerate, no matter how low it flew, those who were not top-tier or super combat powers would certainly perish if they jumped; Yang Qingbai's spacesuit wouldn't be able to withstand it either.)
"I wouldn't bet on it. After all, there are quite a few Red Shoulders in there that spent over a year on Blue Star," Yang Qingbai said. "Better let him search on his own slowly. Truth is, we've got no way of knowing whether he can hear or see this, but didn't Plague Chicken say Pegmont is definitely near the Great Spike gathering area?"
"I'll find a way to circle around a few more times," he continued. At this, he paused for two seconds as the craft banked again, lowering its altitude... Dense swarms of Great Spikes were right beneath them. Yang Qingbai seemed to hesitate for a moment before speaking in a calm tone: "Qingzi, when the time comes, you go first."
"Pegmont," Han Qingyu said.
"Once we find a good spot, sneak down first. I'll keep leading them around outside for a few laps and figure out a way to shake them." Yang Qingbai rambled on, his farewell laden with deceit, when suddenly he froze. "Huh? What?!"
"Pegmont," Han Qingyu repeated, his tone complicated—partly excited, but even more annoyed and helpless.
Logically speaking, finding Pegmont so smoothly ought to have made him happy.
Yet at this moment, Han Qingyu couldn't bring himself to feel happy at all.
"He..." Yang Qingbai finally realized what had happened. In the rearview observation periscope, amidst the dense swarm of Great Spikes, what appeared to be a human figure stood upright, arm raised high, waving a battleblade.
In fact, if he weren't waving a blade, and if there were no Martians on Mars, nor any other human being, they wouldn't have dared believe that upright, long-haired creature was Pegmont.
"Is he fucking stupid?!" Yang Qingbai said blankly.
"Yeah," Han Qingyu agreed.
The guy had probably dug his way out from beneath the sand. He had been hiding there, scavenging food and scraping by... But because he had come out to wave this greeting, at least ten thousand Great Spikes on the ground were now frantically lunging toward him.
And according to earlier intelligence, Pegmont had long since run out of source energy blocks. He didn't even have a source energy device anymore.
Sure enough, he started running...
Yet from the aerial perspective, every direction around him was a dead end.
"So what the hell did he come out for?!" Yang Qingbai thought to himself, *What kind of fucked-up move is this? And this guy is supposed to be one of humanity's greatest hopes for the future?!*
"Maybe he thought we could pick him up. Or maybe he was just saying hello." Han Qingyu let out an exasperated breath.
Regardless of what that bastard was thinking, they had to go get him now.
Yang Qingbai: "How?"
Han Qingyu: "I don't know."
After a second's pause, Han Qingyu said, "Can you circle back?"
Yang Qingbai: "Yeah, but I'll have to make a huge detour first."
Han Qingyu: "Good. Watch your back."
Yang Qingbai: "Huh?"
Han Qingyu: "I'm jumping down first."
"..." Over the communicator, Yang Qingbai heard him leap off. Then, through the rearview observation periscope, he saw Han Qingyu land on the Martian wasteland and start sprinting toward Pegmont...
What the fuck kind of move was *that*? And this guy was supposed to be one of humanity's greatest hopes for the future too!
Chapter 910