"Target acquired, 72°32'24.558 West, 27°13'33.298 North, target: Hood, altitude 750 meters."
Electromagnetic signals spread and propagate underwater; they're completely unafraid of being picked up by Hood's detection radar.
When the huge red dot appeared on the holographic map in the players' cyber command center, everyone inside immediately got restless, ready to mobilize players to launch the next boarding operation.
Wildman, having just hung up on Mongolian Toplaner, stared worriedly at the data sent back by the radar mines. It wasn't that he was afraid of false intel—those guys didn't even know they'd lost control of the Artificial Intelligence mines, so they had no reason to fake anything.
"There's only one ship—if we make a move now, will we spook the snake in the grass? Or should we drag it out and lure the other warships over as well?"
Family Joy patiently talked him through it.
