Warhammer: Hail to the Void Lords!.

Chapter 814, 08.813: "The Siren's Cry"

The fleet arrived at Mandeville Point, the westernmost point of the Gothic Sector.

Traveling between star sectors is like moving on an intricate, invisible chessboard.

Admittedly, the physical universe is vast and boundless, and theoretically, one can travel freely. The only way to reach a destination tens of thousands of light-years away within the finite lifespan of a mortal, and to do so in a replicable way, is to utilize subspace.

Only by temporarily freeing ourselves from the constraints of reality can we traverse unimaginable distances in an impossible time.

The route near Mandeville point, close to the core of the Gothic Sector, is relatively safe.

After three consecutive subspace jumps, Horatio's fleet encountered an Imperial Navy escort detachment patrolling a fixed route.

They fired a salute at the expeditionary fleet, a highly intimidating act that was enough to deter any predators lurking in the shadows, plotting their schemes.

After another violent spatial transformation, accompanied by a burst of lightning and thunder that seemed to tear the ship apart, the fleet returned to the real universe.

"Navigation report: We have arrived at Mandeville point near Planet Atorn III. Ship time has been calibrated. This voyage has lasted seven Terra weeks and two days, and is at 6:00 PM standard Terra time."

"Activating the full-domain target acquisition array to conduct a safety scan of the surrounding airspace..."

"The macro-cannon array is functioning normally, and the sub-light speed engine has switched to cruise mode..."

"We're out again."

Horatio looked at the armored partition slowly rising outside the main observation window of the bridge and said with relief.

"This feeling is like a diver who is about to drown and is about to run out of oxygen, suddenly breaking out of the water and greedily breathing in fresh air."

As he spoke, he ordered his adjutant beside him: "Archie, order all ships to conduct active reconnaissance and report the results immediately."

"Yes, Captain." Archie turned to the communications console. "Skyhawk Squadron, take off immediately to carry out perimeter surveillance and verify that all escort warships have reached their designated tactical positions."

"Skyhawk Squadron received." Anya Fasha's clear voice came through the ship's intercom, tinged with a slight static.

Multiple fighter jets from the Skyhawk Squadron roared out of the hangar beneath the hull of the USS Swift Skyhawk.

It was like a small nest city, filled with Averus landing craft, Valkyrie gunboats, various transport boats, shark assault boats, and Skyhawk shuttles.

These small aircraft, under the unified management of the Boat and Ship Department, are an indispensable component of any imperial capital ship.

Although its hangar capacity cannot compare with that of a dedicated fleet carrier, it is more than enough to accommodate an additional fighter squadron—after all, even without a dedicated launch bay, a ship without a place to park shuttles would be a joke.

Anya Fasha led the Skyhawk squadron to take off one after another from the air platform. The blue exhaust plumes from the fighter jet engines streaked across the portholes on both sides of the Swift Skyhawk like fireflies, leaving fleeting streaks in Horatio's eyes. Finally, they dispersed in front of the warship's huge plowshare bow, forming a sentry formation.

The pilots were responsible for checking the positions of the escort warships after they left subspace and urging those ships that were not yet in position to return to their posts as soon as possible.

Beep! —

Reports from the various ships began to come through the communication channels, and these experienced escort captains did not disappoint Horatio.

After entering their designated escort positions, they successively activated the ship's active detection equipment.

"Commander, the 'Loyal Hound' scimitar-class escort reports that no enemy ships have been detected in the airspace within a 2,000-kilometer radius of the KB-47 quadrant."

"Respected Commander Cochran, the Cobra-Widowmaker-class destroyer USS Starfire is reporting that no suspicious targets have been detected in the airspace within 2,500 kilometers of the KA-17 quadrant."

……

After a series of detailed reports, all the crew members on the flagship's bridge breathed a sigh of relief.

"A cup of Reca coffee, please. My eyes are getting tired from staring at the monitor screen for so long," a young lieutenant said to the orderly.

"Speaking of which, the captain is always so tense. It's exhausting for him. We haven't even encountered a single attack yet," another officer whispered. "Being cautious is always a good thing. Colonel Cochran wants to ensure all ships reach their destination safely. This fleet carries crucial equipment for forming the Imperial Navy's landing force. The high-ranking officials take this very seriously; any loss feels like a knife to their hearts."

"That makes sense. To be honest, I'm a bit tired, and I really hope my next shift comes soon."

Several junior officers who were about to be rotated out were chatting quietly in front of their respective control consoles.

Seven weeks and two days, thanks to the flagship's blessed engine and navigation system, as well as Horatio's 'Warspace Advancer' passive traits.

In just over seven weeks, they traversed eleven star sectors and reached the frontier far from the Gothic Sector.

This speed was nothing short of miraculous, leaving other escort fleets far behind.

Of course, speed has its advantages and disadvantages.

The Imperial Navy's theoretical doctrine held that the faster the speed and the shorter the range, the less time was spent exposed to the void, and therefore the safer it was.

The vastness of space is simply too immense; no civilization or race possesses the power to accurately track a high-speed detachment fleet within such a vast expanse.

Each fleet is literally a drop in the ocean; as long as they are fast enough, they have a high chance of evading the enemy's search.

But precisely because of this, Task Force RX-0371 has long since moved out of the support range of any friendly forces.

They are far ahead of the competition, and if they are attacked, they will have difficulty getting reinforcements.

Horatio chose to prioritize safety over speed and efficiency, at the cost of venturing deep into enemy territory alone.

But he was not gambling blindly; he had made the necessary preparations to deal with the conflict.
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Each time the task force passes through a sector, it must leave the subspace route and calibrate its relative position in the physical universe to ensure that it does not deviate from its course.

The fleet then needs to travel a distance of moderate length in the real universe to reach the next Mandeville point before it can perform another subspace jump.

This period of vulnerability exposed to the real universe is the most fragile and easily attacked time for the fleet, and is therefore referred to as "the Siren's Cry" by the charter fleets and civilian ship crews who travel between interstellar routes year-round.

Horatio gazed at the enormous holographic star map as the fleet passed through the Atorn III system.

He frowned, watching the blue cursor representing the fleet slowly move across the star map, lost in thought.

His memories of being a transmigrator vaguely surfaced; it seemed that there was a web portal connecting to the Dark Eldar city of Comoros in the vicinity of this star sector.

He glanced around the bridge and saw the slightly relaxed expressions on the faces of the officers and soldiers, which only heightened his vigilance.

Task Force RX-0371 may be in the most dangerous area, but the crew is completely unaware of it.

After eleven safe and uneventful journeys, even with the escort of friendly forces, people's vigilance often becomes numbed by this sense of security.

But Horatio knew that those vicious Eldar pirates had long since figured out this human mentality during their long careers of raiding.

A poisoned blade always emerges silently from behind the neck when the prey is most relaxed, swiftly and cleanly severing the throat.

"Let everyone be alert and wary of the void!"

Horatio's voice suddenly rose, breaking the somewhat relaxed atmosphere on the bridge, "We are now far from the Imperial Navy's key patrol area, and there will be no more patrols to accompany us. Now, we have to rely on ourselves!"

He paused for a moment, his gaze sweeping across the faces of each officer.

"This ship is now entering Level 3 combat alert!"

"Attention all ships, we are now entering Level 3 combat alert status."

"Repeat, the entire ship enters Level 3 combat alert status." Lord Captain Archie and Horatio exchanged a glance, and immediately issued and implemented the captain's order on the control panel.

(End of this chapter)