Chapter 1392 - 451: Who Am I?_3

Chapter 1392: Chapter 451: Who Am I?_3

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After the air battle over the Florida Strait, both sides entered a period of rest and reorganization.

The losses on both sides were too heavy; they were practically too exhausted to keep fighting and both needed resupply.

But personnel transport never stopped. Civilians were continuously evacuated from cities across Cuba into ever-expanding underground districts, to prevent casualties from escalating further due to bombing.

As cruel as it sounds, sometimes the enemy hitting too hard is actually a kind of blessing: when it comes to getting out of the war zone, civilians everywhere show little resistance, terrified that if they run too slowly they’ll be slaughtered by the Alliance Army, and even more young people are enthusiastically enlisting.

Hatred is the best catalyst for courage.

But turning that hatred into actual combat power still takes time. On Cuba’s current ever-escalating battlefields, new recruits aren’t even qualified to be cannon fodder; only players can face off head‑on against these Europeans.

And over on Pig Bay beach, the Bora, the greatest war trophy and medal of merit from this battle, lay moored at the harbor.

The trucks unloading cargo beside the Bora looked just like ants in comparison.

Fortunately, a floating ship doesn’t care much about the harbor’s draft tonnage, otherwise they really wouldn’t have had anywhere suitable to berth a hundred‑meter‑class vessel like this.

Traces of Wildman and the others’ battle still remained on the deck, even the blood had dried and turned black.

"Can this ship still be used?"

On the deck, Wildman asked the ship engineer he’d recruited from Military Science.

The engineer was initially shocked at how intact the Bora was, and only later found out that the whole ship had been forcibly boarded and captured on the battlefield by this guy standing in front of him.

This was way beyond ordinary lunacy.

"It can be used, yes. The main structure is intact, and none of the systems have suffered serious damage, but the weapons systems are a bit of a problem."

The engineer said.

"Most of the shipborne weapons have basically been expended. Without resupply it’s barely better than a fire poker."

Back on the battlefield both sides had gone completely insane, flinging missiles at each other’s heads without a care for attrition. Worst case, you just rearm after you’re done.

"And intact doesn’t mean trouble‑free. The power system for the ship’s railgun is damaged, and the acceleration rails are slightly fractured. Cuba doesn’t have the maintenance capabilities; lots of parts would have to be ordered from Europe, and I don’t think they’ll sell them to you."

Wildman frowned.

"So what you’re saying is, this ship can only fly right now?"

The engineer nodded.

"Right."

Snatching a ship with that much effort, only to find it’s basically unusable—what a joke.

But Wildman wasn’t about to give up on the Bora. Times like this are when you have to squeeze every last drop of value out of what you’ve got.

After sending the Military Science engineer away, he dragged Steamed Bun out of the underground city.

"Hey, what are you doing? I’m busy, you know. Believe it or not, I’ll drop a big one on you."

Steamed Bun glared at Wildman in annoyance; she was still processing the precious data they’d gotten last time.

"I’ve got something I need your help with."

Wildman didn’t have any better options; he could only pin his hopes on Steamed Bun, even though her field of expertise and ship maintenance were about ninety thousand miles apart.

He pointed at the Bora’s deck and said,

"That infantry deployment cannon of yours, can it still be used? I want to mount it directly on the ship."

"Huh?"

Steamed Bun looked at Wildman like he was a complete idiot.

Could we please speak the same language here?

The last time I saw people being shot out of cannons was in a circus; even the clowns there weren’t as dedicated as you lot.

She’d grown up hearing of ships mounting water cannons, missiles, railguns, even tanks driven aboard and used as artillery, but she’d never heard of anyone wanting to use a ship to fire people off it.

Dare I ask, is this ship called the Alexander?

"You..."

Steamed Bun almost choked on her own breath and died right then and there.

But she didn’t say his idea was impossible; instead she said,

"I need to check whether this ship’s engine output can handle it, and... the internal space definitely isn’t enough. The cannon would have to be installed on the deck, and I’m not sure if that’d affect stability."

She wasn’t in this line of work at all; she could only wing it based on "I’ll just try and see."

"But..."

Even if Steamed Bun didn’t understand military science, some things were obvious.

"I think your plan is unreliable. Saint Soldiers won’t fall for the same trick twice. Those Europeans definitely won’t give you a second chance to board; they’ll just hose you down with autocannons."

"Mm..."

What she said snapped Wildman out of it. The NPCs in this game weren’t like the canned patterns in traditional PC games where one cheesy tactic could be farmed indefinitely.

But just leaving the ship to sit there gathering dust... Wildman couldn’t stomach that either.

"How about this instead."

Steamed Bun said,

"We do our best to refit the ship. The data from that previous railgun experiment showed really good responsiveness; with some improvements it should be able to fire proper railgun rounds normally. And I can use it to test the upper limit of the frigates’ force‑field shields."

"If we can penetrate them, then next time you encounter an enemy warship you’ll have some ability to hit back."

The technological barrier for electromagnetic railguns isn’t actually that high; the main challenges are materials and power supply.

On the materials side, players already have mass‑produced room‑temperature superconductors, with acceptable wear‑and‑tear costs. For power, worst case you just shut down the ship’s other systems and dump everything into rail acceleration.

As long as it can be made to move, then it’s fine!

Railgun + floating battleship.

The era of the battleship has arrived!

What should we call it?

Let’s just name it the Battleship Trump.