The cold metal walls gleamed with an inorganic sheen, and the cascading, eerie blue data on the giant screen was the only source of light in this underground space.
The air was thick with the unique odor of ozone, coolant, and solder. This was the deepest part of the "Galaxy" base, the nerve center of the National Sky Eye.
Mingzhao sat at the control panel in the corner, standing out from the busy, dark blue work uniforms around him.
She was wearing a faded old shirt, and her slender fingers were deftly manipulating precision tweezers and a miniature welding torch.
Before her, a military-grade signal amplifier, disassembled into pieces, was undergoing a complete transformation.
No blueprints, no hesitation.
Her movements were as precise as a pre-programmed sequence, each weld placed on a critical point almost invisible to the naked eye.
The dismantled, discarded capacitors and resistors seem to be given new life in her hands, being reassembled in a way that defies common sense.
A barely perceptible pale golden arc of electricity flashed past her fingertips, completing a molecular-level weld that surpassed current industrial standards.
On the main screen of the control hall, three satellites, "Galaxy-1" A, B, and C, covered with dark gold dragon scale patterns, are quietly suspended in geosynchronous orbit, steadily flowing with green data representing normal operation.
The hall was occasionally filled with low commands and the buzzing of instruments, everything was in good order.
This is the seventh day since the successful networking of this national strategic asset.
The glory belongs to the nation and the entire team, but the most crucial name is locked away in top-secret files under the highest level of confidentiality regulations, remaining unknown to the public.
Mingzhao, along with her name and the groundbreaking technologies she contributed to the satellite network and turned the tide during the Stardust crisis, have all faded into this underground gloom.
She completed the final step of assembling the signal amplifier, gently pressing her fingertip on a tiny interface.
A very faint, steady buzzing sound came from inside the instrument.
Performance improved by 37.8%, and energy consumption decreased by 15.3%. Her eyes remained calm, as if she had simply done something as natural as breathing.
She casually pushed the newly repaired instrument aside, picked up a thick book next to her, "Compilation of Basic Industrial Materials," and ran her fingertips over the rough pages.
——
The heavy, airtight alloy door slid open silently, and hurried footsteps broke the silence of the corner.
Zhang Mingyuan, this high-ranking and powerful scientific research manager, had a livid face and walked with heavy steps, as if he were carrying an immense burden.
He walked straight toward Mingzhao, the hem of his dark gray Zhongshan suit carrying a sense of oppression.
“Comrade Mingzhao!” His voice was low and hoarse, carrying a certain emotion that he was trying hard to suppress.
Mingzhao raised her head, her cool eyes looking at him. She didn't ask any questions, but simply waited quietly.
Zhang Mingyuan took a deep breath and pulled out a thin folder with the word "Top Secret" printed in bright red from the innermost layer of his briefcase.
His hand trembled slightly as he handed the folder to Mingzhao.
"This afternoon, in the northwest airspace."
Zhang Mingyuan's voice seemed to be squeezed out from between his teeth, each word imbued with grief, indignation, and humiliation, "They...are here again!"
Mingzhao took the folder and opened it. There were no photos inside, only a few lines of cold text and a simplified coordinate graph.
At 15:47 on [Date]: A new high-altitude, high-speed U.S. reconnaissance aircraft, codenamed "Falcon" (suspected to be an F-15 prototype or improved version), intruded into the airspace of my northwestern territory at an altitude of XX meters and a speed of Mach XX.
Our side intercepted three J-X fighter jets (serial numbers: Eagle Nest 07, Eagle Nest 11, and Eagle Nest 19) which were scrambled to intercept and drive them away.
Engagement Process: The enemy aircraft, leveraging their high-altitude, high-speed advantages and advanced radar/electronic jamming systems, maintained the initiative throughout. Our pilots fought bravely and tenaciously, making several unsuccessful attempts to gain advantageous attack positions.
At 15:58, Eagle Nest 07 fighter jet was locked on by enemy radar. During an evasive maneuver, it was unfortunately hit in the tail by an aircraft cannon and crashed out of control. Pilot Wang Hai heroically sacrificed his life.
At 16:02: Seeing their comrades sacrificed, Eagle Nest fighters No. 11 and No. 19, filled with grief and rage, executed an extreme "ramming" tactic, attempting to destroy the enemy aircraft together. The enemy aircraft urgently released high-intensity infrared flares and performed an extreme dive to evade…
Result: Eagle Nest No. 11 fighter jet failed to collide with the enemy aircraft and disintegrated under extreme G-forces. Pilot Li Weiguo heroically sacrificed his life. Eagle Nest No. 19 fighter jet was severely damaged; pilot Zhao Tiezhu ejected but was seriously injured and is currently receiving treatment. The enemy aircraft… successfully escaped!
At the end of the report were the names of the three pilots, their unit numbers, and a shocking number circled heavily in red: 3!
The report paper was thin, yet weighed over a thousand pounds. Mingzhao's gaze lingered for a moment on the three names and the bright red "3".
The hum of the instruments in the control room seemed unusually distant at that moment.
"perish together……"
Mingzhao's cold voice rang out in the quiet corner, "It failed."
She wasn't asking a question; she was stating this cold and brutal fact.
Her fingertips unconsciously traced the arrows on the report paper representing the enemy planes deviating from their course, and a glint of calculation and analysis flashed quickly in the depths of her eyes.
She was assessing the absolute gap in capabilities between herself and the enemy, and calculating the slim probability of the ramming tactic succeeding.
Zhang Mingyuan's fists were clenched so tightly that his knuckles turned white, and his teeth were clenched.
"The enemy is too arrogant! Their performance is completely superior! Our pilots... are risking their lives!"
His voice was filled with helplessness and overwhelming anger.
"They relied on their high altitude, high speed, and long radar range to roam our airspace as if it were their own territory! They sacrificed three outstanding comrades, and they couldn't even force it to land!"
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