"What are you doing, General Officer Duke!"
With Augustus's cautious nature—one who only acted after planning and weighing everything carefully—if he were the one commanding the Norad III, he would never have charged in so recklessly.
Whether in firepower or in numbers, the Protoss fleet held overwhelming superiority. Aside from Duke, there was probably no one else among the Terrans who was always ready to charge straight in like this.
Duke was rough and overbearing; once he set his sights on a direction, he would never look back. If Alpha Squadron were facing a block of butter, then of course they could smash everything before them. But if what lay ahead was an iron plate studded with steel spikes, Duke would still fight to the death.
This Old Family noble with an utterly terrible temper seemed not to understand what fear even was.
And as Duke's commander, one had to possess the ability to rein in a wild horse and point it toward the right path.
"Exactly as you're seeing, Marshal—we're going to stop them!" The man whom Raynor and the others called Snake now wore a resolute expression, his gaze sharp as fire. Whether it was foolishness or ignorance, he truly had a kind of fearless courage.
This detestable Old Family noble, Duke, did not particularly care whether there really were several million lives on Mar Sara waiting for him to save them. He fought only for merit and other things tied to personal gain.
Someone like Raynor genuinely cared for the people he wished to protect. Duke loved only himself, and he cared only about himself.
"These Protoss warships have just destroyed a planet. Their ships must have already exhausted their energy and lack the capability to engage us." Duke calmly analyzed and drew his conclusion.
"No ship would challenge a massive fleet alone without support. They must think our support fleet will arrive at any moment, so they'll have no choice but to retreat."
"And have you ever considered that they might not care whether we have a support fleet at all—or haven't even thought about this?" Augustus exploded with rage. "You idiot."
Although Augustus was almost certain that the Protoss Executor commanding this Protoss fleet was very likely the future Protoss hero Tassadar—and this Executor at least bore no malice toward the Terrans and would not casually slaughter them—Augustus could not gamble on something uncertain.
While Augustus was shouting at Duke, the Norad III kept advancing at maximum speed toward the Protoss fleet in Mar Sara's orbit. Even if Augustus ordered Duke to retreat, the Norad III had already plunged straight into the Protoss fleet's attack range.
Before Augustus could scold Duke any further, a technician's urgent shout came from the bridge of the Norad III.
"General Officer, the Protoss fleet has disappeared."
"Patch the image through immediately," Augustus said.
The Norad III was already very close to the Protoss fleet, and the massive Protoss formation looked like a grand golden city floating in the blackness of deep space. It was an incredibly awe-inspiring sight, as if humanity were sailing toward a lost city suspended in the sky.
But as the technician spoke, the Protoss warships on the screen began vanishing one after another within distorted light and shadow.
"The Protoss have withdrawn." Augustus was momentarily stunned, but soon a smile appeared. "They've done us a huge favor."
The situation in the Sara system had originally been extremely chaotic. Whether it was the Jormungand Swarm or the Confederacy Navy's Omega Squadron, neither could be easily defeated by the Revolutionary Army. It was nearly impossible for them to carry out a large-scale evacuation of the Mar Sara refugees caught between these two threats.
But now the Jormungand Swarm had suffered a heavy blow under the Protoss fleet's attack, and Augustus felt much less pressure. Even so, the Protoss fleet was still a threat, because Augustus had no idea when they might suddenly jump back into the Sara system and burn Mar Sara again—the Protoss were simply too unpredictable.
"Hahaha, they were scared." Duke took only a moment to adapt and accept the reality of the "Protoss' hasty retreat." He burst into loud laughter. "Not worth mentioning. Whether the golden Protoss or the Tal'darim, they're all the same."
"The moment they face an enemy capable of striking back, the Protoss immediately flee with their heads in their hands." Duke spoke proudly, laughing nonstop, as if he had never been this pleased in his entire life.
"Well done, Duke. Facts prove your decision was correct." Augustus praised him briefly. "I will award you a medal."
"Yes—a brand-new design, with a new emblem and a new name, and shining gold, completely different from those hundreds of medals you already have. At the same time, I will consider granting you the rank of Major General after this campaign. The people of Mar Sara owe their salvation entirely to you. Unexpectedly, you turned out to be the one who saved Mar Sara."
"General Officer, the Protoss still haven't responded to our hails?"
Augustus did not remain pleased for long; his sharp mind quickly turned to matters of greater importance.
"No." Duke had originally thought Augustus would praise him a few more times to satisfy his vanity, but he did not care. What mattered was that the power in his hands had once again increased—and that was what Duke was most addicted to.
"Take a look—those arrogant pointy-heads can't even be bothered to speak to us. In their eyes, we're nothing but monkeys and savages," Duke said. "But it doesn't matter. In my eyes, they're not even on par with monkeys. They're just a pile of dung."
"We don't know whether they'll come back, or whether they'll destroy Mar Sara after they return." In the central command room of the Revolutionary Army fortress, Augustus paced back and forth.
"General Officer Duke, your ship is the only warship still in the Sara system." He stopped and thought for a moment before continuing.
"I need Alpha Squadron to land on Mar Sara immediately and complete the preparations before we evacuate the refugees—our guerrilla units left there will coordinate with you," Augustus said.
"Then you must establish contact with the refugees across Mar Sara and get them to move to the designated landing sites for the transports and prepare for evacuation. At the same time, you must also deal with the Jormungand Swarm units that have already invaded Mar Sara, as well as the Omega Squadron Marines currently enforcing control there, and protect the refugees following us."
"Why do we have to do something like this? I don't understand how saving that many people helps us overthrow the Confederacy." Duke frowned, but he did not want to defy Augustus's orders. "The Confederacy has never allocated funds to rescue any refugees, let alone save an entire planet. Usually, things like this rely on donations from civilian organizations."
"I know all too well what kind of scum those people in the Confederacy are. Of course, I'm no more noble than they are."
Duke was not someone who thought far ahead. Most of the time, his attention was focused squarely between his eyes.
"Precisely because the Confederacy won't do it, we must," Augustus said.
"We have never claimed to be saviors or messiahs. It's simply that no one else will step forward to do this. And the people of the Terran Confederacy will, in time, remember everything we have done—remember that the Revolutionary Army is a force of righteousness."
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