"Hey, there seem to be very few personnel aboard these vessels."
When the networks of the two fleets connected, soldiers aboard the Winunder fleet discovered that the opposing terminal count was remarkably low. The entire fleet, comprising 44,000 warships, registered fewer than 500,000 terminals.
Theoretically, the enemy possessed fewer than 500,000 active personnel.
On average, each ship carried just over ten individuals.
Even accounting for ships, these numbers seemed incredibly low. Typically, a single vessel required between 200 and 500 soldiers to be fully crewed.
"Does that even warrant discussion? Those soldiers are outright cowards. Fearing they might be caught in the crossfire, the majority didn't even report for duty."
"Damn it, they clearly had no intention of reinforcing us. They're just going through the motions."
"Are these guys trustworthy? Is this the full extent of the Rusty Star Nation soldiers?"
"The ones who fought us previously must have been the elites. If all Rusty Star Nation soldiers are like this, then I think I can finally get a decent night's sleep."
There was a substantial number of personnel aboard the Winunder fleet.
A standard military vessel's full complement was set at 500 people.
In prior engagements, ships were heavily damaged, but the soldiers aboard each vessel survived. These scattered soldiers acted as independent combat units. During battles, they would attempt to board enemy ships.
Soldier mechs were not only designed for robust defense or offense; they also boasted powerful decryption capabilities.
If they managed to latch onto an enemy ship, they could attack it by interfacing with its network, and could even breach the hull to infiltrate and inflict internal damage.
This was a recognized tactic, albeit one with a relatively low probability of success.
The true operational role of these soldiers involved securing Star Systems post-engagement and conducting ground-level combat within Star Cities.
Some of these surviving soldiers would inevitably be launched in uncontrolled trajectories, inadvertently carried away from the primary battlefield. The resulting outcome was drifting through space, with luck allowing them to eventually return to their assigned vessels.
Normal ships were equipped with specialized retrieval apparatus to collect these stray soldiers.
Thus, after a battle concluded, the soldier count on each ship would not decrease but often increase, sometimes reaching 600 after recovery efforts.
The exposed enemy ships were even louder in contrast.
A stark dichotomy formed between the two fleets' vessels: one side sparsely crewed and quiet; the other teeming with personnel, chaotic and noisy.
In this process, time ticked by minute by minute.
After flying on parallel courses, the two fleets drew steadily closer.
"Ha ha, they actually showed up. Are they here to bring us some comfort?"
"It must be a direct order from the higher-ups. Ensuring we won't be lonely, seeing as it's still 10 years until Bmen."
"Once we reach Bmen, we'll have to properly unwind. I traveled to Bmen before; there are crowds, and all manner of basic entertainment are limitless. And, of course, plenty of financial rewards."
The ships neared each other, yet no one detected anything inherently suspicious.
Soldiers waited, anticipating reprieve.
Officers paid little attention, offering only cursory glances. Everyone let their guard down.
Approximately 5 days later.
The modified ship fleet finally completed its full integration with the Winunder fleet.
Each ship found a corresponding vessel to dock alongside.
Aboard the flagship:
A soldier rushed in, shouting excitedly: "The ships are connected! I heard that because time was tight, some entertainment facilities haven't been fully dismantled aboard them yet. Once networked, you can enter the virtual world!"
"Really?"
"Of course it's true! The people on the opposing ships sent word. Those private vessels are truly luxurious inside!"
Some of the calmer officers also headed towards the docking ports.
At this moment, Binom, deeply engrossed in complex calculations, was interrupted. He intended to return to his concentration but still managed to ask: "Who authorized you to go enjoy yourselves?"
"Can't you even endure 10 years?"
The entire journey spanned over 200 years, and these two centuries demanded constant, unwavering vigilance. It was perfectly normal for soldiers to crave relaxation.
If this was an official directive from some high-ranking military authority, Binom would only issue a warning later; he wouldn't make an issue of it now.
Who knew, the person he questioned seemed stunned for a moment.
He asked back: "Wasn't it your order, sir?"
"That's what the personnel on the opposing ships communicated."
Binom's liquid body instantly shot toward the main control console. He observed dense red dots saturating the huge screen.
The red dots signified the other ships, while their own vessels were marked with green dots. He noticed that every red dot was situated immediately adjacent to a green dot, practically touching.
"This is catastrophic!"
The very moment Binom registered the danger, the entire warship boomed, shaking violently.
Binom's surface rippled intensely, and his internal consciousness experienced even greater agitation.
"It's over!"
"The time-delay tactic was merely the first phase of the performance. The actual assault is here."
"Duming, you have utterly deceived me!"
Binom's resentment was immense. His deeply ingrained conviction that Bmen had been completely secured stemmed from Duming's continuous, reassuring indoctrination.
Duming had always insisted that Bmen was fundamentally safe, having managed it personally for hundreds of years. Even under attack, Bmen could ostensibly hold out for over a century.
Consequently, Binom maintained virtually no defenses against this fleet arriving directly from Bmen.
Of course, this negligence was also his own willful evasion.
Because he knew that no matter what command he issued now, it could not alter what had already transpired.
These arriving ships were not meant for tactical engagement; they were sent merely to detonate.
A completely unprepared fleet would lose at least 40,000 military ships instantly. This represented another staggering loss.
A combined deficit exceeding 160,000 ships—how could such a catastrophe ever be rectified?
After finally securing Bmen, they would have to advance with fewer than 50,000 vessels remaining—a feat as challenging as scaling heaven itself!
At this juncture, Binom lacked the fortitude even to press the button that would reveal the external view; he did not wish to witness the unfolding tragedy.
But a soldier pressed it for him.
On the command room's enormous screen, flashing lights and the wreckage of ships danced, all in stark silence, within mere moments.
A soldier's body streaked across the lens, but his terrified face was still captured. They likely never imagined, even in death, how such a disaster could strike.
Hadn't the battle concluded?
Weren't those modified ships supposed to be friendly reinforcements?
Some among them might have harbored doubts, but they trusted these were all necessary strategic decisions from higher command. Thus, their suspicions remained buried within their hearts, shattering instantly upon impact.
"Commander, what are our orders now?"
The soldier asked blankly.
Binom was rendered speechless. All his meticulously laid future plans dissolved once more with this wave of explosions.
He even felt a pang of self-reproach.
"No matter how flawless a plan might be for the future, without addressing the immediate present, I am truly a sinner."
He held this thought privately, yet life demanded continuity.
"Proceed toward Bmen. Prepare for combat deployment. At the very least, we must secure Bmen."
This was Binom's final, desperate decree.
...
In the Bmen Star System.
A gigantic interstellar super-antimatter displacement device lay across the border of the star system, surrounded by countless starships and cargo vessels.
In the macro sense, or even on the battlefield, warships seemed to be the eternal theme, while ships could barely play supporting roles, serving merely as units destined to perish in combat.
However, within a proper star system, the sheer number of ships was pitifully low.
As stated in the report, all types of ships in Bmen combined amounted to fewer than 100,000. This number was simply meaningless for an entire star system boasting a population numbering in the tens of billions.
A far greater number were actually small craft, which formed the mainstay for most ordinary citizens.
Even a several-hundred-meter-class starship is a behemoth when compared to living beings.
Consider that the Ford-class aircraft carrier is only 332.85 meters long, 40.84 meters wide, and has a displacement of 100,000 tons. If you include the flight deck, it might be slightly larger, perhaps by only a few tens of meters.
Yet, a vessel of that size is actually considered small among starships.
Most private starships might measure 300–400 meters in length, weighing 900,000 to 1.2 million tons. Cargo starships and passenger starships commonly fall into the 600-meter class, weighing 1.5 to 1.7 million tons.
Bmen possessed a total of 8.78 million starships.
This might not seem like an overwhelmingly large quantity, but if these vessels are restricted to specific, fixed corridors, the congestion becomes substantial.
It's akin to comparing the number of cars to a country's land area and concluding it doesn't seem excessive. So why does everyone experience daily traffic jams? Because cars, most of the time, must adhere to roads. It is the same for starships; most of the time, they must travel within interstellar passages.
Such a volume of starships would create massive congestion in these interstellar passages, a scene stretching as far as the eye can see.
Starships could, of course, travel outside designated interstellar passages. This wouldn't violate any traffic regulations. However, outside these passages, there are no acceleration rings or energy replenishment rings, compelling starships to accelerate independently—something they are fundamentally unable to do.
Why does war only requisition "ships" and not "starships"?
It is not due to spatial limitations; after all, even fighters measured in tens of meters can play a role on the battlefield.
The primary reason starships are unfit for direct combat lies with their engines!
Starships typically accelerate at 2–5 km per second, with a maximum cruising speed between 500–1000 km per second. It's not that they cannot go faster, but because starships primarily operate within star systems where they benefit from acceleration rings, allowing them to boost over 10,000 km per second. Therefore, they do not require excessively powerful internal engine systems.
Of course, they could be modified, similar to the 'improved ships,' but that necessitates designing an engine meeting the requirements, then designing it to accommodate weaponry, and spending significant time enabling mass production. Ultimately, even if the final design is minimized, the effort invested would prove that the benefits do not outweigh the astronomical costs.
Therefore, on the interstellar stage, starships are somewhat marginal figures.
...
Inside Bmen Star City.
Central Plaza.
On the gigantic cross-shaped frame.
The nearly desiccated "corpse" heard the sound of starships descending from the sky and was growing impatient.
He suspected that the daily nutrient solution injections were providing less energy than his body was currently burning. That devil hoped he would slowly perish this way.
All internal prosthetics had been removed from his body. He could neither use the power of technology to sustain his functions nor to mitigate his pain.
He had once considered that he should never have come to this place.
But ultimately, his powerful will overcame these self-doubting thoughts. Regret was futile. He craved the sound of Luna's defeat; that was his deepest desire at this moment.
"Luna… very soon, very soon!"
He muttered, but even he wasn't sure if his words carried any distance.
Just as his consciousness was about to dissipate, the sound from the sky intensified, becoming immense, like rolling thunder.
He listened carefully.
This was neither the sound of starships nor the sound of ships; this was the sound of warships.
"Have they arrived?"
"Has the Flaorse fleet arrived?"
He heard the people below the cross beginning to panic. They were fleeing in terror.
And his last shred of doubt vanished.
His awaited moment had finally materialized!
Duming had once assured him that as long as the Flaorse fleet reached Bmen, this war could be declared concluded.
"Haha, this is my victory!"
"Luna, do you see this?"
Simultaneously, he felt greatly invigorated, as if receiving a final surge of life force.
The booming sound finally subsided onto the ground. The rumbling gradually faded, replaced by a low-frequency electronic hum. As a Gargleblast, he was highly sensitive; he could perceive too many frequency bands, and these specific sounds did not escape his awareness.
After a long interval, he heard footsteps approaching.
He called out, "Director Duming, is that you?"
"I knew it, I knew it. You secured the victory."
A group of figures stood before him, looking up at his elevated position.
After a prolonged moment, a voice finally broke the silence.
"Where are the Bmen people?"
That voice was thick with tightly suppressed anger, like a volcano on the verge of eruption.
He heard the words but struggled to grasp their meaning. He asked, "Which people?"
The next moment, he seemed to grasp the grim implication.
"I apologize, I couldn't hold Bmen. Luna took Bmen, but since you are here, the war must have been won, correct?"
His apology failed to dissipate the anger emanating from the voice's owner.
There was a commotion, and someone flew closer, arriving right in front of him. Something was removed from his body, and at the same time, he felt a profound silence settle over the area.
It wasn't that the distant warship electronic hum had ceased, but the human voices. Previously, he could discern the distant shouts of many people, but now, that auditory input was gone. There were only the clear, close breaths of about two dozen individuals.
Then, someone connected a mechanical eye to him, allowing him to perceive this world visually with light.
He opened his eyes wide.
He saw the two dozen or so people nearby. Their species varied; Duming was not among them, but he still recognized Binom. That Xenian was too conspicuous to miss.
It seemed to be that Xenian who had just spoken to him, his voice saturated with fury.
He still wanted to offer an explanation, but his eyes were immediately drawn to his surroundings.
This was a plaza. In the distance stood structures tens or even hundreds of thousands of meters tall. It was night, yet the entire locale was devoid of light. He saw no populace, no starships, no shuttles, not even flying vehicles.
The city was eerily deserted.
"What… happened?"
He clearly remembered hearing countless people just a minute ago.
It wasn't until the person beside him threw a device onto the ground that he instantly understood.
He had been profoundly deceived.
That device had corrupted his senses, lied to him. Everything he had heard and felt was fabricated.
After Luna arrived at Bmen, she had broadcast the message that the enemy was coming and that they could not be stopped.
Nearly a century was sufficient time for everyone in a star system to evacuate.
In reality, this was somewhat trivial; humans played a very small role in this era. However, the departure of the populace served as a clear signal. Luna intended to destroy the industrial facilities and main servers here, leaving Bmen as merely a celestial body.
The Winunder fleet, upon arriving at this location and requiring repairs, would only be able to utilize equipment from their own warships or attempt to rebuild a factory within this Star City. Either option would consume a significant amount of time.
Decades?
Over a century?
Neither timeframe was acceptable to Binom.
If the fleet hadn't sustained such heavy losses, time would have been on their side. But now, that advantage was gone. Delay would become a double-edged sword, increasing their anxiety and compounding their fatigue.
This was undoubtedly yet another crushing piece of bad news for Binom.
"One setback after another, truly one after another."
"Why? Why did every single plan proceed so smoothly for the opposition?"
"If there had been even the slightest error, even a flicker of caution, none of this would have happened."
Binom felt utterly helpless.
Among the vast number of personnel in the entire fleet, he was the only one capable of meaningful thought. Everyone else seemed entirely devoid of strategic insight.
Duming was an intelligent man, but he was excessively arrogant—so arrogant that he pre-planned everything down to the last detail and then stubbornly refused any later modifications.
Tourmaline's initial attack forced a shift in his thinking, but swiftly, upon discovering the distant assault, he reverted to his original stubborn stance.
This supposed war, ostensibly a military conflict,
was in reality a protracted chess match between Binom and Luna.
Binom was not as boastful as Duming. He maintained a self-assessment of inadequacy, necessitating extensive deliberation, meticulously planning every detail before execution.
And this time, he had lost.
Not just once, but three times in succession.
"Officer Binom, I truly had no alternative. Although the entire Star City was compromised by a virus, Luna still held absolute authority. Within the Star City, I possessed absolutely no power to resist."
"I also never anticipated that she would personally lead the charge here."
Simultaneously, upon realizing the dire nature of the situation, he immediately appealed for clemency.
After all, he was now entirely dependent on Flaorse and the Ynun Star Nation.
"So, it was at this precise moment that she deployed a clone body."
Binom had originally assumed Luna wasn't present from the outset, never conceiving that Luna had already plotted to seize Bmen directly.
She never truly believed her own fleet could halt their advance. Even if they hadn't seized Bmen simultaneously and cut off all communication for the Rusty Star Nation, Luna would have eventually arrived at Bmen and ambushed them. The ultimate result would likely mirror the current outcome.
Theoretically, Luna achieved the same result by executing the original strategy through a different sequence of actions.
Or, to put it in less diplomatic terms: Duming's and Binom's carefully laid plans had zero impact on Luna.
"Is this the difference?"
"As anticipated from Luna, the legend of the Rusty Star Nation."
Binom felt a profound sense of inferiority for the first time.
"However, this war is not yet concluded. I will not surrender, even in this compromised state."
The evacuation of all Bmen's people and the destruction of key infrastructure would only waste time and diminish their potential spoils. The true damage inflicted was spiritual. Whether it was him or the soldiers, witnessing this abandoned city would inevitably lead to weariness.
Binom would then need to establish entertainment facilities quickly to distract the soldiers and salvage their morale.
"Issue the following orders: Survey all remaining assets within the Star City. Present a comprehensive plan. The absolute top priority is establishing shipyards and entertainment facilities. I expect to see these within 50 years."
Binom resolved to develop their position here first, planning to personally oversee the reconstruction.
With that thought, he led his remaining personnel away.
Meanwhile, the Gargleblast was still pinned to the cross, staring wide-eyed at the departing Binom.
"Officer Binom, me, I'm still here! You forgot to release me!"
The Gargleblast shouted.
But Binom and his contingent did not look back, seemingly too distant to hear anything.
The vast plaza became empty once more, then plunged into absolute darkness.
The Gargleblast now understood he had been utterly abandoned. He felt resentment, yet remained powerless.
After the mechanical restraints on his body were forcibly removed, his physical form succumbed to cold and starvation.
He had believed his resolve could sustain him for decades or centuries, as it had in the past.
But alas.
This was merely a fantasy.
The true him, mere hours later, grew overwhelmingly sleepy. He felt his consciousness clouding over, and then, early the next morning, when soldiers arrived, they discovered his body affixed to the cross, his blood frozen like ice—already deceased.
The bewildered soldiers even felt a degree of pity. He could have served as a vital working slave for their star nation!
...
In a region of profound darkness.
One voice spoke: "Do we really have to wait here idly? Could we be discovered?"
Another voice replied: "No, people's vigilance will not remain high forever."
"Do you know why I was so absolutely certain the fleet's ambush would succeed?"
"Why?" the first voice inquired.
The second voice then answered: "Because the casualties are now quantifiable. They will focus their attention more on calculating their next steps, rather than contemplating whether Bmen might have already fallen."
"Human cognitive inertia will overlook this crucial point. Or perhaps, people's minds naturally avoid contemplating such devastating realities."
"That's too mentally taxing. Once someone is unbearably exhausted, they will naturally gravitate toward simpler matters. This truth has remained constant throughout hundreds of thousands of years of evolution."
The first voice was filled with admiration.
Then he inquired: "Then, CEO, when can we deploy?"
Luna replied: "When the conclusion is reached!"
Had this war truly ended?
In Luna's perspective, absolutely not.
Luna knew perfectly well that, despite the seemingly flawless victory achieved in this engagement, it still failed to fundamentally alter the overall course of the larger conflict.
Currently, Flaorse and the Ynun Star Nation still possessed multiple strategic options. Their probability of ultimate victory had dropped to 50%, balanced precariously, but still a chance. This battle alone would not conclude the war.
In the protracted stalemate she foresaw, she calculated that the Rusty Star Nation's winning odds would only continue to decline.
Because their void-class ships had been entirely annihilated.
They possessed no final trump card.
Ships are ultimately just ships, expendable assets. This reality is immutable.
Their production capacity could never sustain them through the next major campaign.
Therefore, there was only one method left to significantly broaden their odds of winning.
That was to...
End this war here!
And where was "here"?
Bmen!
Luna looked around.
In the darkness, figures milled about.
This was a world devoid of light, intentionally designed to evade signal detection, rendering them inconspicuous.
"Are you ready?" Luna asked those around her.
Everyone nodded.
"Then let's head out."
Next, a large door opened.
Light poured in from the exterior.
A group of figures emerged, clad in Flaorse mechs.
"Finally… I thought you would employ a more elaborate tactic."
The man accompanying Luna was named Pavarro, an employee of Supernova Technology Corporation in Bmen.
In Bmen, the Gargleblast's ability to control the area was inseparable from the assistance provided by the local branch of Supernova Technology Corporation.
There are always individuals who make poor choices.
And when Luna pinned that individual to the cross, Pavarro reported everything about the surviving Supernova Technology Corporation branch personnel to her.
Luna kept him by her side.
It wasn't that she believed Pavarro possessed the courage to resist; after such an extended period of occupation, Pavarro must have colluded with those people to attain his current status.
The sole distinction was that Pavarro recognized the shift in power early on. He understood Luna would certainly investigate the Supernova Technology Corporation branch.
He surrendered proactively, and while he wouldn't receive accolades, his outcome wouldn't be excessively harsh.
Facts proved his calculated risk was correct.
Everyone involved in the previous betrayal had perished decades ago. Only a few personnel from that branch managed to survive.
Most of them were newcomers who hadn't been involved long enough, making Pavarro the only remaining veteran.
Pavarro was an intelligent opportunist.
Perhaps he was constantly indecisive, but he at least retained competence and utility. Thus, Luna retained him by her side for decades and included him in this current operation.
"Impressive?"
"It's not that I shun impressive methods, but the current approach is simply easier. People who highly value ceremony are like those obsessed with saving face; they all live excessively exhausting lives."
"If a problem can be solved with the simplest possible method, why engage in needless complexity?"
Luna gave Pavarro a meaningful glance.
Because Pavarro was precisely the type of person being described.
Pavarro greatly enjoyed a sense of ceremony and fanfare.
Pavarro understood the implication of Luna's look and quickly stated: "I am merely average. I can still distinguish between what is important and what is trivial."
At this moment, the two entered a ship.
What was strange was that the ship showed absolutely no reaction when the intruders arrived.
Pavarro instinctively took a step forward, then halted, making an inviting gesture.
Luna remained still, observing him.
The scene became profoundly awkward.
"If someone inside the ship were recording and witnessed our appearance right now, they would instantly become alerted. Then we would be surrounded, our identities compromised, and we'd be pinned to this very cross I personally constructed, just like that other individual."
"What would you say to me then?"
Pavarro retracted his hand movements. He no longer possessed the earlier relaxed demeanor, replying with slight unease: "I apologize."
Luna shook her head.
"Do you know what I would say?"
This time, it was Pavarro's turn to shake his head.
"I would say, perhaps we can remove the nails from our bodies; we can still escape."
"Even if that were impossible, I would still devise any method, consider every possible avenue."
"Never surrender hope. Let despair only arrive after death."
"I hope you commit that statement to memory."
While the two were conversing, the others had already disappeared from behind, heading toward other ships or warships.
They arrived at the cockpit entrance.
Pavarro spoke: "We are outsiders. What if our identities are exposed once we enter?"
"The Captain might be inside, and he knows everyone in this cockpit."
Luna thought Pavarro was overly cautious.
"Such concerns should not be primary issues now; they should have been considered from the very beginning."
"You need to provide yourself with a definitive answer. If you believe a course of action is viable, proceed. If not, then do not execute it."
"Whether the Captain is present or absent matters little, because life is inherently self-focused. Except when encountering novel stimuli, individuals rarely pay excessive attention to one another."
"When you enter a new classroom for your studies, you will look up at everyone who enters the room."
"But once you have been in that class for a semester or two, you only check if your few close friends have arrived. As for the rest, they could already be seated in the classroom, yet you wouldn't even register their presence."
Perhaps because she hadn't discussed non-work-related matters with anyone for too long, Luna spoke extensively.
Another reason she retained Pavarro might be that he was actually quite talkative. He would intentionally or unintentionally initiate conversations on any topic, sometimes quite bizarre ones.
Luna appreciated young people like this.
Too much meaningless and repetitive interaction during mission deployment, even if she adapted to it, still felt inherently restrictive.
At this moment, the door opened.
The polished, charcoal-grey metal hatch slid sideways, and a single person emerged. Pavarro instantly tensed up.
Luna, however, strode in naturally.
Pavarro glanced at the person exiting. That individual didn't notice him at all, instead being completely engrossed in their own virtual screen.
He breathed a sigh of relief, quickly catching up with Luna's footsteps.
"We are clearly strangers, so why did he fail to notice us?"
Luna surveyed everything in the cabin.
There were only 76 people in the command room, occupying roughly three to four hundred square meters.
They were all preoccupied with their individual duties.
"They didn't notice we were outsiders. Perhaps you should try speaking up now, yell 'Hey,' and then everyone's gaze will shift toward us."
"A shout in the cockpit is highly unusual. They rarely—if ever—hear one, so everyone would definitely look over here."
"Would you like to attempt it?"
Luna encouraged Pavarro, but he quickly shook his head, indicating a strong preference not to.
Luna smiled, then spoke up clearly: "Hey!"
At this, Pavarro's heart immediately leaped into his throat. Just as everyone prepared to turn their attention, Luna called out a name.
"Igus, you cannot keep waiting in the cabin."
Hearing this, the others suppressed their urge to look over, and only one individual turned to face them.
That person was Igus.
He sighed helplessly and stated, "I have work I cannot finalize. What is happening outside? Are those people too occupied to handle matters? What benefit would accrue from me joining?"
"Leave me out of it. I only wish to remain quietly here, awaiting the next departure."
After speaking, he deliberately chose silence, effectively blocking external sounds from reaching him.
Pavarro was extremely surprised: "He didn't suspect us?"
"Of course."
Luna affirmed: "We called out his name and pointed out his known habit."
"His station is piled high with all sorts of debris; clearly, he is someone who dislikes eliminating clutter."
"With those two obvious characteristics, his habitual thought patterns will lead him to assume we are familiar colleagues."
"Do you know what essential advantage this era provides us?"
"Species. The segregation between different biological groups is immense. This further enables him to overlook the fact that I don't recognize everyone he knows."
"The Captain is here. Let's proceed."
Luna guided Pavarro toward the Captain's station.
Pavarro felt immense fear. Exposure meant certain death.
He could not maintain the composure Luna exhibited.
"Miss, I retract my earlier statement. That was not an unimpressive plan. In fact, it was far more audacious than I could have imagined."
Luna did not look back.
"That is even better. Realization, even if it arrives at the final moment, is never too late."
The two spoke as they reached the Captain's station.