BATTLE FOR STARS

A short while later, Pierre arrived at the Carrier's flight operations section aboard a transport pod.

The entire area was already on full alert.

In emergencies, pilots could transfer directly from the transport pod into their Fighters through a dedicated access corridor. Under normal circumstances, however, Pierre preferred getting out and walking the rest of the way. It gave him a chance to see his aircraft before launch.

The Hill Empire's standard Fighter looked very different from the Confederation's sleek, rounded designs.

Its shape was closer to a cone.

More accurately, it resembled a sharp, pointed pyramid—almost like the Eiffel Tower.

The design served a practical purpose.

It allowed the aircraft to carry more Missiles.

After all, a Fighter's primary role was to close in on enemy Starships and unleash massive missile salvos, overwhelming defensive screens and destroying the target.

The design philosophy reflected the Hill Empire's belief that offensive firepower mattered more than defense.

Of course, even Confederation Fighters couldn't withstand a direct hit from a thermonuclear missile at close range. Their armor could only survive a handful of electromagnetic cannon rounds at best.

A female equipment technician stood beside the Fighter, its blue-black metallic hull gleaming beneath the hangar lights.

She was responsible for final inspections and had personally overseen the aircraft's last round of checks.

Although most inspections were now performed by robots, a human technician still conducted the final verification.

The purpose was simple—to guard against computer malfunctions or tampered software.

Not far away, several ground crew members directed swarms of robots as they completed preparations on the remaining Fighters.

Once the battle began, the flight deck would become far busier.

This forced transit operation would only allow a limited number of units to cross.

According to intelligence reports, the available transit window would be shorter than in previous operations because Epsom's defenses had been significantly reinforced.

News that the Hill Empire was preparing a full-scale invasion of the Confederation had long since reached its destination.

A war of this magnitude was nearly impossible to conceal.

The scale, complexity, and logistical activity involved far exceeded anything seen in earlier conflicts.

In the end, the mixed task force chose to send only Fighters through the forced transit.

A Fighter was barely over a hundred meters long, while Starships measured several kilometers in length.

Fighters could accelerate faster, maneuver more easily, and pass through the Stargate in less time.

Naturally, that gave them a much higher chance of success.

Pierre nodded his thanks to the technician before climbing into the cockpit.

The cockpit was located near the center of the aircraft and shaped like an oval capsule.

Much like the mechs piloted by Lina, the entire compartment would be filled with buffering fluid after entry.

The fluid helped distribute the immense stresses generated during rapid acceleration and deceleration.

Pierre settled into his seat and secured his helmet.

While waiting for the cockpit to fill, he activated the Fighter's main computer and began a self-diagnostic.

He had heard that the latest Fighters produced by the Kramic Kingdom were already controlled entirely through brainwave interfaces.

The Hill Empire, limited by its technological level, still relied on a combination of manual controls and neural links.

Not that Pierre cared much.

Even if brainwave controls were slightly faster, they wouldn't help much against a sky full of incoming missiles.

In his opinion, Fighter combat in interstellar warfare depended far more on luck and courage than technical skill.

Skill came second.

Once the diagnostic was complete, Pierre flexed a finger lightly.

The Fighter glided smoothly into the launch corridor.

Moments later, the catapult system fired.

The aircraft shot out of an opening beneath the Carrier and burst into space at tremendous speed.

As squadron leader for the assault operation, Pierre would command five additional Fighters during the crossing.

Like him, every pilot in the formation was a seasoned veteran.

The six Fighters formed a triangular pattern and began circling the space above the Stargate.

As they approached, their flight radius tightened.

Their speed increased steadily.

Their path resembled a descending spiral.

Passing through a Stargate was a fundamental skill for every Fighter pilot.

For Pierre, it wasn't merely routine.

It was enjoyable.

Shortly before transit, an automatic injector would administer a dose of military stimulant.

The drug dramatically enhanced both mental processing speed and physical reaction time.

The stimulant wasn't addictive.

Its only drawback was the exhaustion that followed.

While under its effects, a pilot experienced an almost euphoric state.

It felt as if one had become an invincible god of war.

For men and women whose profession carried such extreme risks, it was one of the few perks the job offered.

Other military personnel didn't get access to combat stimulants whenever they wanted.

As the Fighters continued their descent, lights gradually illuminated around the military Stargate.

When every segment blazed with brilliant radiance, the gate would open.

For Pierre, the route and velocity had already been programmed into the onboard computer.

There was nothing left to do except wait.

The wait wasn't long.

Every department involved had spent months preparing for this moment.

Soon, the entire Stargate was glowing.

"Prepare for Stargate transit. Countdown commencing. Three... two... one..."

His Personal AI Assistant's voice echoed through the cockpit.

An instant later, Pierre and his Fighter plunged into the Stargate.

Beep! Beep! Beep!

"Enemy vessel detected! Enemy vessel detected!"

The warning sirens erupted.

Red alert lights flashed throughout the cockpit.

This was the highest-level combat warning.

A Confederation Starship had appeared directly ahead of him.

Pierre couldn't help cursing under his breath.

His luck was truly incredible.

The moment he entered Confederation territory, he ran straight into an enemy vessel.

It was completely unexpected.

At first glance, forced transit into enemy space seemed extraordinarily dangerous.

In reality, it was often less risky than actual fleet engagements.

Fighters were usually inserted into remote regions of enemy territory, where their primary mission was simply to eliminate nearby Warp Mines.

The most critical factor in that mission was speed.

The faster the mines were cleared, the sooner another forced transit could be initiated.

And the sooner reinforcements would arrive.

There were certainly situations where the first wave of Fighters or Starships had to hold off enemy attacks.

But those cases usually occurred in heavily patrolled central regions of Confederation space.

Out here, in a remote sector, the odds of encountering an enemy were extremely low.

That was one of the main reasons Pierre had never considered this mission particularly stressful.

Yet somehow, he had managed to run directly into a Starship.

Under normal circumstances, a Fighter's chances of defeating a Starship were virtually zero.

A Starship carried many times the firepower of a Fighter.

And most Starships also carried Fighters of their own.

They could simply launch interceptors to deal with the threat.

But this time, the Confederation vessel he encountered wasn't a warship.

It was a Minelayer.

A Minelayer was only a quarter to a fifth the size of an Assault Ship or escort vessel.

Its armor and weaponry were also far inferior to those of frontline Starships, only slightly stronger than those of transport ships.

After all, Minelayers weren't built for combat.

They were built to deploy mines.

For Pierre, however, the biggest problem was something else.

He had emerged directly in front of the Minelayer.

And the forward arc was where virtually every Starship concentrated its strongest firepower.