The transport ship landed at the military airport in Kato City. As the hatch opened, Tian Xingjian jumped out; he was the only passenger. This transport ship was responsible for material supplies, carrying some mecha parts and munitions. Tian Xingjian's mecha and luggage were also on this transport ship.
Hundreds of various ships floated in the sky above the airport, mostly transport ships, with a few aircraft responsible for aerial surveillance. In the distance was a space battleship repair dock with four berths, densely packed with I-beam structures. Four gigantic battleships under repair were quietly suspended within the berths, with thousands of workers bustling around like ants, working hard to repair these ships shimmering with black metallic sheen.
Ground transport vehicles and mecha responsible for loading shuttled back and forth, transferring the mountains of materials from the gaping transport ships. These materials would be distributed to the frontlines or other units in urgent need through the Federation's vast and efficient logistics department.
The sound of whistles filled the air as over a hundred signalmen in white signal uniforms waved red and green triangular flags to direct the takeoff and landing of ships and the passage of transport vehicles.
The grand scene left Tian Xingjian in awe. When a country with three star domains fully mobilizes, the power it unleashes is immense. This power does not disappear in its dormant state in peacetime. When it is threatened, this power will erupt like an uncontrollable volcano, impossible to stop. Even if there is a stronger power to counter it, the final result will inevitably be mutual destruction.
This power belongs to every Federation citizen. Perhaps an individual is just a tiny speck of dust in this vast universe, but when millions of people come together to strive for a common goal, this power becomes immeasurable. Over time, the passion contributed by these individuals, whose lives are fleeting moments in the river of time, accumulates. This accumulation has built human civilization and conquered the vast universe.
And I exist among them. This existence will eventually be forgotten, but it will forever be a wave in the sea of human civilization. When death truly comes, is fear of any use?
Since it can't be avoided, facing the grand life head-on may be the right choice.
Facing war, facing life and death, how many people have thoughts similar to mine? What choices will they make? Reality tells me that these people are fighting, throwing themselves into a war to defend the country, ready to give their lives at any moment. Each one of them is a hero.
Perhaps they, like me, also fear becoming floating dust in the universe, or wind-blown sand on the earth. But they still hold their positions, at all costs.
And I have no retreat. The Federation, this country that gave birth to and raised me, doesn't it have something worth defending?
What is that thing? Is it the smile of the beautiful girl I secretly admired, or the rusty swing I fell off from and cried bitterly during childhood, or the sad face of the young soldier's mother who died painfully on TV...
I've been on the run long enough, twenty-one escapes over six months. I no longer want to taste that despair. Forget about life and death; it's an unsolvable riddle. Fate will eventually give the answer. Before that, I should truly integrate into this great era.
Three hours later, Fatty drove his shabby mecha named "Logic" to the headquarters of the 16th Armored Division of the Federation Air Marine Corps.
This was a military base located southwest of Kato City. The base was surrounded by anti-detection jammers. If satellites were to take photos from above, they would only capture a pitch-black area. Tʜe source of this ᴄontent ɪs N(o)vᴇl(F)ire.nᴇt
Tian Xingjian handed his electronic soldier ID card to the guard standing at the gate. A minute later, he was allowed to enter the base.
Passing through several rows of guard barracks filled with various standard mechas, his seemingly falling-apart mecha attracted the attention of everyone along the way. Quite a few female soldiers covered their mouths and laughed in astonishment at the sight of this thing.
Fatty maintained his composure, deliberately making the mecha walk with difficult, shuffling steps. When he saw a pretty female soldier, he would jump down, pretending to ask for directions with a lecherous smile.
Just a hundred meters away from the Division's Special Reconnaissance Battalion, Fatty suddenly saw a beautiful female soldier with a graceful figure on the side of the road. He walked up with a cheeky grin, continuing his trick of asking for directions. But this beauty was not as friendly as the others he had encountered; she had a cold face and a dismissive attitude.
Fatty thought to himself, "Oh, not going to respond, are you? Well, I'm going to pester you today."
Being a quintessential rogue by nature, a model of sleaziness and shamelessness, his favorite pastime was always causing trouble. His thick skin made him relentless. Apart from Milan, the violent girl, no woman could escape Fatty's advances without him making a fuss.
Moreover, Fatty detested those who looked down on others with an air of superiority. To him, anyone who acted high and mighty deserved to be knocked down.
The cold female soldier, unable to avoid Fatty's relentless pestering, sighed and, gritting her teeth, drew a detailed map and explained it for a long time. Just as she saw the annoying man seemingly understanding, he asked again, "Still don't get it. How exactly do I get there? Is this even a map?"
The soldiers watching from the sidelines were laughing so hard they were doubling over, all silently cursing that Fatty was truly impossible.
Seeing the female soldier's anger boiling, the Fatty nonchalantly poured a bucket of cold water on her wrath, saying, "Lieutenant, remember to salute when you see an officer next time. I'll let it slide this time; I won't pursue it further."
After speaking, he turned around and jumped onto the beat-up mecha and left in a hurry. A black, dense smoke, reminiscent of an antique diesel engine, spewed from the tail of the mecha, coiling around without dissipating.
This female soldier named Alice was originally pampered and arrogant since childhood. She had never met such a shameless and despicable Fatty nor suffered such mockery and bullying. With her rank being lower than his, she couldn't hit or scold him, and the grievance hit her so hard that she almost burst into tears, feeling both angry and hateful: "Fatty, I will never coexist peacefully with you!"
The news that the Fatty hadn't even reached his unit yet had already angered Alice, the third most proud beauty in the entire division, spread rapidly through the camp. Everyone was guessing what the background of this Fatty was. Some soldiers who had been ridiculed by Alice face to face or disliked her were gloating, while Alice's supporters were furious, vowing to make this Fatty, who humiliated their goddess, regret it.
Arriving at the Reconnaissance Battalion headquarters, the Fatty was informed by the guards that Commander Nadal was holding a wartime intelligence briefing.
After waiting for a while, the meeting ended, and the tall, gaunt Nadal walked out with a frown, ready to see what kind of character this Deputy Company Commander, forcibly assigned by the frontline command, really was.
"Lieutenant Tian Xingjian, Deputy Company Commander of the 1st Company, Special Reconnaissance Battalion, 16th Armored Division of the Federation Air Marine Corps, reporting as ordered. Please give instructions." The Fatty's salute was standard and forceful.
"Damn it, a Fatty coming to be a reconnaissance soldier, and a cowardly one too." Nadal, who had already learned some information from his friends at the frontline command, struggled to control his disdain for the Fatty in front of him.
"At ease, Lieutenant. Follow me." Nadal turned and led the Fatty into the office.
"Take a seat, Lieutenant. There are chairs over there." Nadal pointed with his hand.
"Thank you, Commander." The Fatty maintained his standard military posture, sitting with his back straight and hands placed on his knees, staring straight ahead.
Nadal bypassed the desk and sat in his chair, taking a cigarette from the box on the table, lighting it, and taking a deep drag. He asked as if talking to himself, "I heard you used to be a mechanical repair soldier?"
"Yes, Commander." The Fatty felt a bit guilty. His heightened sense of awareness from the special training suggested that this direct superior's tone was not very friendly.
"I heard you were in the special training team? The first training was for reconnaissance soldiers?" Nadal glanced at the Fatty through the circling smoke with a scrutinizing gaze.
"Yes, Commander." The Fatty cursed in his heart, "Damn it, my records clearly state everything, yet this guy keeps repeating 'I heard' in a sarcastic manner."
Nadal smiled slightly, still slowly asking, "Since you received special training and performed quite well, how did you end up as a mechanical repair soldier?"
"Fuck, I can't tell you that I'm afraid of dying and didn't want to join the reconnaissance team, right?" The Fatty cursed inwardly but spoke without hesitation, "It's purely a personal interest, Commander."
"Interest?" Nadal viciously extinguished the half-smoked cigarette and shouted angrily, "Lieutenant, war doesn't care about everyone's interests. If everyone chose based on their interests, I would damn well be a carpenter now."
"Finally exploded." The Fatty wailed internally. He jumped up from his chair as if electrocuted, stood at attention, and shouted:
"Yes, Commander. Sorry, Commander."
Emotional, Nadal jumped up and yelled, "I don't know why the frontline command decided to put you, a Fatty, here, or why your records show all those inexplicable achievements. Aside from being good at running with your tail between your legs, I don't think your fat body qualifies to lead a company here! Fatty, I don't care what you've done before, or if you're proud of those kiddie games' achievements in the special training team. But I have to tell you, there's no room for lazy freeloaders here. Remember, I'll only say it once, remember the full name of this battalion. It's not just any reconnaissance battalion; it's the Special Reconnaissance Battalion of the 16th Armored Division of the Federation Air Marine Corps."
"The only Special Reconnaissance Battalion in the entire Federation! Got it? Get lost!"
The Fatty fled in disarray.