I stared into the Captain's eyes, and she stared at me expectantly. Although she was sitting in the driver's seat and I was squatting and she could be condescending, it was a gravity-free environment, and it didn't feel like there was a difference between up and down.

"I'm sorry, I can't give you the blessing you want." Her words disappointed her greatly.

Then I added, "I don't have that qualification." ”

"Huh?" Her dim eyes lit up again. Psionic energy is not necessarily required, and reasonable praise can stimulate a person's will.

"I don't know what world you're from, what your people believe. But myself, and my people, we are hunters of the wasteland, and we worship the earth, the mountains, and the rivers, but we rarely worship the sky and the storm. As you can see, I have the most primitive brute force, not the power of storm and thunder. I am a warrior who rules the earth, and your realm is in the sky, and a beast of prey, even the most powerful saber-toothed tiger, is not qualified to bless an eagle, right? ”

"Oh...... Okay......" She seemed to regain a bit of vitality and turned her head to pull the joystick.

"Wait," I stood up a little straighter, hunched over, rubbing the canopy above my head, and reached out to pat her on the shoulder. She didn't seem to be a little upset with my unsolicited contact, but she didn't say anything, just turned her head to look at me again, "What's the matter?" ”

"It was the first time in my life that I was fighting in the air, and it felt okay?"

"Not bad...... That's great," she seemed to struggle with how to phrase it, "it's the first time I've seen someone fight in space that way, and I don't think even a Thunderbolt squad is your match." ”

That's too conservative, isn't it? I have corps-level combat effectiveness, and it is impossible to describe it as a squadron. But I followed her words and said, "But you know what? I'm jealous of you. When I was your age, I was supposed to be serving in an infantry regiment, crouching in a trench or a crater, and shells could fall on my head at any time, and I could soak my feet in the water in the sinkhole on a rainy day. At that time, we were especially envious of the flying guys in the navy, whistling over, dropping a bunch of bombs on enemy positions, and then roaring away. At that time, I thought that if I could sit in an airplane one day, even if I didn't do anything and just look at it, it would be worth it for my life. But just now, I realized that flying is not such a happy thing, sometimes it is more uncomfortable than squatting in a mud pit. So I thought, you can do this as a girl, and I have to do it too. ”

"You did, and you did it better than me." She seemed reluctant to admit it.

"I don't have wings, do I?"

"But you have ......"

"No!" I interrupted her, "I've had psionic powers for almost twenty years, but why can't I fly until today?" ”

"Huh?"

"Because today I want to fly for the first time!" I stared at her and said, "My wings don't come from the psionic power of the subspace, but my mind, my will!" It is you who have given me this will, you are born to be an eagle to dominate the sky, and in front of you, I am only a flapping bird. ”

"Mind...... Is it? Sylvia murmured, her eyes as if something was burning and brightening, just like the projection of her soul in subspace, "Even if I lose my wings, my heart still flies!" ”

She became relaxed, grabbed my shoulders very hard, and slammed her forehead against me, "Thank you, brother!" ”

Hey, I'm better than you, okay? It's reasonable for me to touch you, but it's offensive for you to touch me!

Seeing her rejuvenated, I couldn't help but breathe a sigh of relief. The flattery just now not only failed to achieve the perfection of my tone and expression, but also used the low-level means of self-deprecation, which is really unqualified. But even this is better than using psionic means, and the best way to inspire and motivate her is to affirm her achievements, praise her abilities, and make the glory in her heart come alive, rather than simply erasing part of her feelings by supernatural means. …,

Suddenly, she changed to another smiling face and said, "Have you also taught yourself "The Self-cultivation of Political Commissars"? I think your rhetoric is so familiar......"

Hey? Debunked so quickly? I couldn't help but feel embarrassed for a while -- after all, the political commissar is not the exclusive breed of our defense forces, and the navy also has a political commissar!

When it comes to political commissars, people who don't know much about the military often think of shooting first. Of course, the political commissar does have the power to execute, including officers and soldiers of the same rank and below as himself, which is also one of the effective means of maintaining morale. However, it is not a good idea to use the fear of death against the fear of death on the other side, and it can only be used to maintain a minimum of morale, and political commissars who like to execute soldiers often suffer disappearance. In fact, the power of execution was not widely used, and most commissars were more adept at inspiring the courage of their soldiers with fanatical speeches and actions that led by example, while the former demanded a high level of eloquence.

The official political commissar came from the orphans of heroes and martyrs, and was born through the training of the Loyal Heir Academy, and was the backbone of the army's morale on behalf of the emperor's will. However, due to the problem of duty, the death rate of the political commissar is often very high, and in the case of not being replenished in time in wartime, the political commissar often promotes individual veterans with strong combat effectiveness, flexible mind, strong will, and high prestige as his successors, so that when he dies, someone will take his black hat and pistol, and regroup the army that is on the verge of collapse. This practice is not as specified by military regulations as the succession of command, but it is just some unwritten habits, but in many cases it does save the troops. In view of the fact that veterans often lack systematic education, the political commissars who were worried about the aftermath compiled the book "The Self-cultivation of Political Commissars", which was secretly and circulated in a small area in the army. Again, the book was not an official publication like the Infantry Handbook, but it was circulated by official acquiescence and became more and more refined by more and more excellent commissars.

As a dangerous person monitored by the political commissar, I naturally did not have the right to read this book. However, like the weapons in my space that are completely illegally possessed, there are very few legitimate ways for me to obtain things. The book "The Self-cultivation of the Political Commissar 1.13b" in my space is the same as the power sword I commonly use from a non-commissioned officer who died in battle. By the way, my blaster pistol and chainsaw sword came from a fallen commissar, and considering that I would definitely not have a chance to use it, I did not take his large-brimmed hat.

Fortunately, after debunking my trick, she didn't chase after me, but just put her arms around my neck again, "Anyway, thank you." But aren't you worried about our state now? ”

"It's okay, even if I don't believe you, can I still not believe myself?" I hit her on the forehead hard, too, "So trust me." After flying for so long, there's not much jet fuel, right? Save for last. Let me be your wings. ”

With that, I retracted into the corner next to my chair, focused, and raised my hand to point forward. Pushed and pulled by supernatural forces from subspace, the Thunderbolt fighters, as well as the torpedo warheads, began to accelerate slowly and steadily, heading towards the large Avenger-class cruiser that was already not far away.