"Where's the young fellow?"
The black woolen greatcoat, adorned with numerous medals, seemed out of place in the surroundings.
A salt-and-pepper, full beard—the white attested to his advanced age, while the black suggested he might not be that old... at least in spirit—stood out, as stiff and robust as a wild boar's bristles.
A captain's hat, a full two sizes too large, cast a shadow over the somewhat short and stout old man's eyes.
Although he was doing his best to conceal it, his sharp, hawk-like gaze was not something that could be hidden by mere physical means.
The surroundings were silent.
The others in the combat command room were not intimidated by the gold stars on the old man's shoulders, but rather held his name in reverence—although it seemed like a question, when it wasn't one's turn to speak, it was best to keep one's mouth shut.
One should not mistake being thrown into the sea to feed sharks as some urban legend.
The fleet's combat command room was usually located within the ship's hull; the bridge was currently being temporarily requisitioned. As for the reason... the old man had spent a lifetime drilling through "rat holes," and in his advanced age, he simply preferred places with an open view—although it was a bit crowded here, there would always be young people who would show a bit of respect for their elders.
A badly damaged F-35 was being dragged back to the hangar by "fully armed" damage control personnel.
"In solitary confinement."
Standing beside the old man.
The youngest staff officer on the entire bridge, holding the lowest rank, answered his question.
The thick eyebrows under the captain's hat furrowed deeply, forming a "王" (king) character-like wrinkle between them.
The pipe, made of briar root and meerschaum—the world's most expensive luxury pipe, one of the eight limited edition "Dunhill Sandblast 18K Gold Windproof Cap Pipes" ever made, and the only one currently known to exist in the world was the one he held clenched in his teeth—was "puffed" on forcefully by the old man twice.
Dispelling cold and dampness.
This was the reason pipes were so beloved by sailors.
But with advancements in medical technology, and the old man's perforated, less-than-durable lungs growing weaker by the day, he could now only savor the taste a little—once the expensive pipe tobacco was lit, it would become a life-hastening thing for him.
Apart from the sound of the bow parting the waves, the atmosphere on the bridge once again fell silent.
"I was the one who gave the order."
If it were in the past... no, even just five years ago, the old man would never have offered an explanation for anything.
"He was the one who executed the order."
He patted the young man's shoulder.
That somewhat youthful, "familiar" face.
It made the old man feel as if he had returned to the past—although he considered himself still full of vigor, at this age, humans always found themselves unconsciously reminiscing.
"You're a lot like your old man."
The Columbia-class strategic nuclear submarine.
A "near-future warship" costing 13 billion US dollars and displacing over 20,000 tons—the three Trident D5 submarine-launched ballistic missiles that had downed the Cruiser-class were launched from within it.
Strategic nuclear submarines did not travel with the fleet.
But due to the threat from underwater, most active strategic nuclear submarines now lurked not far from the fleet, facilitating rapid support from friendly forces.
Due to the different nature of its mission.
This particular Columbia-class strategic nuclear submarine was traveling directly with the "1st Fleet"—in order to swiftly achieve the strategic objective of "discover and destroy" against the Honkai, the commander of the 1st Fleet held a nuclear button that allowed him to bypass the upper echelons and act directly.
As for why the Pretty Country military dared to grant the "1st Fleet" such immense authority, one only needed to look at "their" configuration:
Although nominally, this special-type fleet was formed by drawing from and combining units from two other fleets.
This was merely a way to fool the taxpayers—all the capital ships of the special-type fleet were newly built!
One 100,000-ton displacement nuclear-powered aircraft carrier (Enterprise).
Two sister ships to the Enterprise—50,000-ton displacement amphibious assault ships (Yorktown and Hornet).
One 40,000-ton displacement large cruiser (Anchorage).
Three 15,000-ton displacement destroyers (Bailey, Radford, and Nicholas).
Eleven various frigates and support ships, each with a displacement of 4,000 tons.
One large replenishment ship.
One "antique" that would absolutely never appear in a modern navy—a Georgia-class battleship, armed with three twin-mounted 18-inch (457mm) naval guns.
This was a fleet where science fiction and classical elements coexisted.
Its naming came from the Fleet Commander.
Its composition was a consideration of both practical combat and experimental purposes.
Underwater threats, beam weapons, super-large Honkai Beasts, high-maneuverability aerial units, and so on.
Based on these reasons, the romantic and special ship class of "battleship" had appeared in this special-type fleet.
Returning the view to the bridge.
The old man's gaze was fixed intently on the distant sea surface.
To his left, blueprints piled on a temporary conference table, along with image data projected onto the wall, displayed the content of the recent meeting's discussion: all the intelligence humanity had gathered on Lu Xing.
This Honkai Beast was very dangerous.
Although the scientific advisors couldn't explain why a Knight-class Honkai Beast, which should have died after losing its mount, would suddenly possess such a degree of intelligence, this didn't prevent the fleet from raising its threat level by two grades.
The old man would not continue to focus on something already dead—no matter how powerful Knight-class beasts were, the upper limit of their "model" was, after all, set.
Nuclear weapons could, through sheer power.
Destroy all obstacles that stood in their way.
If not, then just use a few more until the target was destroyed.
Currently, it seemed.
Provided a hit could be guaranteed, no Honkai Beast had yet been able to withstand humanity's ultimate deterrent unscathed.
The nuclear strike from the Columbia was far beyond what a Knight-class could endure, not even the aftershock—not to mention the fleet had launched a full three of them this time.
The old man was actually thinking more deeply.
Dispatching a humanoid (Knight-class) Honkai Beast deep into the city to spread a plague, and arranging for a large Honkai Beast (Cruiser-class) to provide cover.
The former possessed strong infiltration capabilities.
The latter posed an immense threat—a single beam strike that could annihilate twenty thousand people was terrifying enough if it landed in a city; if such an attack were to hit the fleet... Fleets that had previously engaged Cruiser-class beasts had learned of the terror of these whale-type Honkai Beasts at an unbearable cost. This was the primary reason the old man had decisively used a nuclear strike.
Two threats, eliminated in one go.
The collaboration between two different types of Honkai Beasts, with vastly different styles, made it truly difficult for the old man not to think of something.
If there truly was some "mastermind" behind the scenes, then their decisiveness was likely not inferior to his own...
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The observer's voice interrupted the old man's thoughts.
"Spatial fluctuations detected in the sea area ahead!"
"According to observed values, the emerging target is... a super-large Honkai Beast!"