"It looks like we'll have to go up and check no matter what."
The young man tapped his fingers lightly on the armrest and let out a scornful laugh.
"Have the troops ready to launch at any time."
"Whatever the outcome, we'll know once we try to seize it."
As he spoke, a greedy green light flashed in his eyes.
What he coveted wasn't the assets on that ship—after all, it was likely empty, and he wasn't truly a pirate.
But if he really found Fred, he could escape his current life and return to the homeland as one of the elite.
Moreover, with such a great achievement, his future would surely be meteoric.
Since the timing was right, it was worth taking a gamble—better to kill by mistake than to let anyone escape.
After all, they were just Coordinators.
Even if the person he was looking for wasn't there, killing them all would be fine.
They were just unlucky.
"Yes."
No one disputed the young man's words. The surrounding crew members bowed their heads with fervent nods.
"Then establish communication."
Satisfied with the submission of those around him, the young man sneered.
"Understood."
Without making the young man wait long, as soon as the communication connection prompt appeared, he spoke directly.
"Coordinator ship ahead, listen up. We are pirates. Abandon your ship and surrender immediately."
"..."
This is definitely not pirates!
The perspective shifted back to Andrew's ship. Having confirmed his suspicion, the veteran felt his hairs stand on end.
The other party's tone was cold and carried a confident, leisurely demeanor, like a cat toying with a mouse.
Was this normal pirate behavior?
At the very least, pirates weren't that bold.
This wasn't some TV drama—they were usually afraid of being caught. Why would they demand abandoning the ship? At most, they'd ask for cargo to be thrown overboard.
Whether everything was tossed out or not, they wouldn't care.
Without taking risks, what they got was the real gain.
And normal pirates wouldn't bother seizing an unloaded, likely empty cargo ship.
The opponent's transport ship could carry up to six Mistrals at full capacity, while they only had three operational on their side...
With performance roughly equal, an elite might barely manage one against two, but the problem was that the other side's rundown ship had likely been specially modified.
It wouldn't be surprising if the Mistrals or the cargo ship were equipped with missiles.
They were likely to be suppressed by firepower.
And now, only three minutes remained of the five Fred had mentioned.
Cursing the engineers who modified ships under his breath, Andrew's heart raced with tension.
"Confirmed modification traces of missile launch tubes."
As if the situation wasn't desperate enough, the radar operator added.
Simultaneously, the screen in front of them grew clearer as the other ship approached.
The focus then shifted to the skull's pitch-black, terrifying eye sockets.
Within those pure black painted holes, faint glimpses of exposed mechanical structures could be seen.
Reflecting the distant sunlight, they offered no warmth, only an icy chill.
Moreover, there were several suspicious marks on the hull as well.
"..."
Andrew didn't remain silent for long. He opened the communication channel and said,
"We're an empty ship—no cargo."
"Of course, we can offer a ransom in exchange."
Meanwhile, the ghost ship charging toward them at full speed showed no signs of slowing down.
"No need."
The young man coldly and mercilessly rejected the suggestion.
"This is the final warning. Abandon your ship and surrender immediately."
"Though, if you happen to have a thirteen-year-old boy aboard, we might be able to negotiate."
Of course, this was merely a ruse.
The young man had no intention of sparing anyone on the ship.
If not for needing to confirm whether Fred was aboard, he would have attacked long ago.
Yet he remained confident.
Especially now that the enemy had entered the locking range of his missiles.
His vessel far outgunned the opposing cargo ship.
What could a few Vulcan Cannons accomplish? Their interception rate would barely reach 70% at best. Three Vulcan Cannons couldn't possibly combine for a 210% interception rate. Once the missiles came in numbers, the enemy would inevitably fail to evade and meet their watery grave.
As long as they didn't allow close-range attacks on the Bridge, there was no threat whatsoever.
Andrew, hearing the thinly-veiled implication, felt his head spinning.
The other party was clearly trying to deceive them.
But even if he denied it or played dumb, the enemy wouldn't let them go.
With only one minute remaining until the time Fred mentioned, Andrew began frantically calculating in his mind.
Buying one minute wasn't difficult - the real challenge lay in escaping their predicament.
Assuming the enemy possessed missiles, they had likely already entered the locking range.
Escape seemed improbable.
As the skull emblem drew nearer, its hollow gaze fixed upon them, Andrew finally heard Fred's voice in his earpiece.
...
"Taking your sweet time."
In the ensuing silence, the young man let out a contemptuous laugh.
"Activate the fire control radar."
"Yes."
The scruffy man acknowledged.
Just then, the cargo ship that had appeared adrift suddenly blazed with brilliant lights.
Simultaneously, the Propulsion Unit at its stern ignited.
Witnessing this, the young man clicked his tongue in disdain.
"Fire missiles. Target their Propulsion Unit."
"Launch all Mistral-equipped missile launchers."
"Yes!"
As the young man issued commands one after another, terrifying flames erupted from the dark eye sockets of the skull emblem, missiles streaking toward their vessel with unstoppable momentum.
Inside Andrew's Bridge, the blaring alarms sounded like invitations from hell.
"Advance at 70% power. Switch Vulcan Cannons to automatic mode."
"Alec!"
Andrew shouted.
"They won't hit!"
Answering Andrew's call, Alec and two others swung their Work Pods toward the incoming missiles.
Vulcan Cannons mounted beneath the Work Pods traced faint orange trajectories through the dark cosmos.
Machine gun fire collided precisely with the missiles, resulting in silent explosions.
"Pathetic tricks."
The young man showed no emotion upon seeing the explosions.
Three Mistral-equipped missile launchers, coordinated with four additional missile silos located along the hull, began volleying fire at the merchant ship.
Watching six magnificent exhaust plumes ignite before him, the young man's lips slowly curved into a cruel smile.
However, this smile abruptly froze as a massive explosion rocked the void.
A sudden and immense blaze erupted from the Skull Head brimming with sinister aura, spreading like infernal flames in an instant before the entire vessel silently collapsed.
It resembled a spectacular firework display—the transport ship modified into a Battleship, which moments earlier had exuded the oppressive presence of a Ghost Ship, now transformed into cosmic scrap metal.