"…Let's go back and wait for news from Captain Miller's other team." Brian Carter's gaze grew even deeper. He looked at everything before him, then turned and left without hesitation, leaving behind only a few teammates still in a daze.

(Someone is sabotaging the city's vehicles, and they're quite skilled—there's a military feel to it. Why? Could it be…)

(Other than me, is there anyone else who knows about that coordinate? And they're also in this city?)

Chapter 4: Emergency Repairs

That night, after the members of George Miller's team also returned to the basement of the small shop by the street, everyone present looked grim. Even though the two groups didn't communicate, just by looking at each other's faces, they knew for sure that neither had found an intact plane—especially a medium or larger one that could carry more than a dozen people.

"No, none at all. Either blown up or smashed to pieces, all the planes have been destroyed," George Miller reported grimly.

Brian Carter's expression grew even darker. He stared at his laptop, and after a long pause finally said, "We must head to Tennessee, USA immediately. I suspect we're not the only ones who know about these coordinates. I was careless—I should have thought of this earlier. Since that code expert was able to find out the coordinates and send them to me, it's possible others know as well. This could very well be the last spaceship on Earth. We absolutely cannot let anyone else get to it first… By the way, you said you were attacked by the Longxing Squad during desert training? When did that happen?"

George Miller was momentarily stunned. A very cold man beside him suddenly spoke: "It was twenty-seven days ago. Before that, the Longxing Squad was training just like us and didn't make a move. But on the twenty-seventh day, they suddenly attacked. We lost three people on the spot, and two were seriously injured—those two later died as well. But they didn't get off easy either; they lost about six people and have around twenty left."

"Twenty-seven days ago?" Brian Carter's face turned grim. He said, "Although the Longxing Squad isn't directly tied to the top brass, they still have some backing and wouldn't be abandoned easily. The higher-ups disappeared about a month ago—maybe even earlier, but the information was blocked. Yet the Longxing Squad attacked you twenty-seven days ago. In other words, they must have received orders from above. Even though the Longxing Squad is made up entirely of orphans raised by the state, people are complicated. In a situation where death is almost certain, it's impossible for all of them to stay loyal to the top. That means they must have a way out, which is why they would follow orders to attack you…"

George Miller suddenly realized, "So, they know about the coordinates too? Were they the ones who destroyed the planes? To stop us from going to Tennessee? And then they plan to seize the spaceship?"

"That's very likely… But maybe not just to stop us. First, they don't know I have the coordinates. Second, they don't know we're in this city. It's probably just their usual behavior. Among the four special forces units with 'Long' in their names, the Longxing Squad is the most violent—they often cause massive destruction… So actually, we might still have a chance."

Brian Carter recalled as he spoke, "If it really was the Longxing Squad, then their sabotage wasn't for any particular purpose, just out of habit. Given the current situation, they're also in a hurry to get to Tennessee. They couldn't have carefully destroyed every plane, so among the wreckage we saw—some blown up, some smashed, some shot up—that's our opportunity…"

At this point, Brian Carter suddenly looked up at everyone and said, "Tomorrow we'll clear out a street, find a truck, and head to the southern civil airport to look for the best-preserved plane or some key aircraft parts. Then we'll go to the northern civil airport to check the wreckage there. As long as they didn't systematically destroy everything, we might be able to repair one or two planes. They don't have to be perfect—just able to fly to the US. If that doesn't work, we'll have to risk going to a nearby military base."

Everyone was quietly calculating. They were special forces—the elite kind. Although they were sometimes suppressed for political reasons, that didn't change the fact that they were highly skilled soldiers. They all had basic mechanical knowledge, and several could repair most weapons and machinery. While they'd never fixed a medium or large civilian plane, they had done emergency repairs on helicopters and fighter jets during exercises. So, thinking it over, this might really be their best chance.

The night passed without incident.