Iron Grasper, Death Pioneer, commander of the Black Legion Expeditionary Fleet, was standing motionless on the command deck of the Ultimate Resentment.
He ignored the noise of the crew members on the bridge, but looked out at the last bulletproof observation window.
He straightened his back, as if he was reviewing a fleet of ships, but he was not looking at a fleet, it was part of the remaining fleet. The reimbursed ships formed a waste field full of fine things, drifting in the void.
The colorful violent wind enveloped the Pandora Galaxy, and it used its tentacles to inlaid it with a circle of borders, as delicate as an ice sculpture on glass.
Of course, it is not impossible to treat this as a pleasing and intoxicating beauty. He felt it was quite beautiful anyway, although Irongrasper himself could not touch the word "beauty".
Even though the opacity of the observation window was adjusted to the maximum, the dirty light generated by the subspace still blinded his eyes.
Despite this, he still motionless, glanced away, crossed the twisted tendrils of the storm, looked into the distance, and into the late night outside the asteroid belt.
He didn't know which idiot-killed mentally retarded wizard in the legion created a small subspace storm at the critical moment of their battle. He didn't know how much the empire suffered. Anyway, he was almost fucked, literally.
There were very few ships that could reach here without peeling the skin, and most of them turned in early.
He wouldn't blame them, after all, he was the one who lost the war.
Since the defeat in the first naval battle, the whole situation for Pandora has changed.
Now it is filled with the pitiful warships of the Empire, no longer a stagnant pool. Once the small warships of the Black Legion enter this galaxy and hibernate into the shadows, what caught their eyes was the endless stream of spacecraft coming and going between the planets and the clusters of new orbital platforms, and the messy lines of traffic-
Then, most of the warships belonging to the Black Legion War Gang would rush back to the subspace with their tails.
Those who have the courage to stay in the galaxy don't pay much attention to his commander.
Irongrasper has been trying to reshape his authority. He led his defeated generals to constantly deal with the Empire's fleet in the galaxy. At first, he achieved certain results through sneak attacks, but with the increasing strength of the Empire's fleet - now the Empire already has four battleships and twenty-one cruisers in the galaxy, and he is basically running away in a hurry for the rest of his life.
Even just now, he was attacking an imperial supply fleet but was ambushed. Finally, he barely escaped with the fleet in chaos, but hit the sub-space storm.
Now his poor fleet has only five broken ships left.
In the end, those who stayed here were hopeless people, Aingrasper thought reluctantly.
During these days, he survived many sleepless nights and waited for the wailing of the enemy's alarm, but the Imperial fleet did not come to him.
He became tired of waiting for them, just as he was tired of everything here.
At least for now, this asteroid-covered area is still a safe and hidden place.
Among the five ships left behind, only the flagship Wuxiu Resentment, the large cruiser Sacred Corrosion and the attack cruiser Wild Howling, which was added later, showed signs of activity. The rest were basically extinguished and fell into complete darkness, and all the people escaped.
Since all the lights are no longer activated, they have become silhouettes under the starlight.
Irongrasper wanted to know what was going on in these cold hulls, what kind of local snakes would ride on their heads after the servant's master ran away from the dark deck.
Will they stockpile declining food, water and air to maintain their temporary dominance?
Iron Graspell thought that things would be like this, and if he learned anything in his long career as a traitor, it was that humans usually return to a certain type, which was always unbearable.
As he sucked the sarcasm caused by all this, he amused him to a certain extent.
At least, this helps to pass away boring time.
The lack of sincerity control, these damn ships are slowly sliding towards each other, and their huge attraction drags them slowly through the quiet space.
There, they will soon walk their endings in a way of broken masts and spoiled hulls.
He doesn't like this idea.
Irongrasper has been here for half a month. He counted in his helmet timer, doing this almost like a demon, calculating the time when there was nothing to do every day with more and more worries.
It's incredible.
But there is no way, they have basically lost their combat effectiveness. If they are discovered before the new reinforcements arrive, then there is only a dead end.
Hiding here, at least the Imperial people will not come for a while.
Iron Graspell was able to create a picture in his mind: the Imperial Admiral in a funny uniform was in the command post full of slaves, and was furious and driven all small ships to search for them all over the galaxy.
In a sense, he at least won.
The Legion always wins-
Of course, when he is alone, he will also reflect on whether he is a little crazy because of continuous failures.
To be honest, the Wuxiu Resentment is only a little better than the ships that fall into the darkness. After all, it has been in the center of the battlefield, so there is really no fun here, even if Iron Graspell is a person who can find fun in things that others find bad.
The crew worked hard to heal it, a waiting that was so unreasonable that today would be a day that proved that their efforts were far from enough.
His authority was almost reduced to a level that was not as good as a slave at this moment, so that the remaining ships planned to abandon him.
Irongrasper felt a moment of uneasiness and thought about his destiny.
When he broke the ship from the battle with the Dark Angel, he realized that the Warmaster would be in isolation and helplessness, so he once proposed to take Warmaster off the planet without regard for everything else.
Iron Grasper cared more about glory than some of his blood relatives, but to others it was a self-destructive glory, and the rest of the fleet did not want to put themselves in.
So he saw the repairman doing monotonous work while working with plasma torches, rather than scum criminals lined up to send themselves into the crematorium.