Warhammer: Hail to the Void Lords!.

Chapter 817, 08.816: 'Enemy Torpedo Sneak Attack!'

"Hmm...maybe I should be more cautious?"

“The ‘Starfire’ will handle the long-range surveillance. Their advanced detection arrays have a much greater range than ours; that’s the job of the Cobra-Widowmaker class,” the captain replied, his fingers flying across the data panel.

"Captain, please, just once. I'm begging you. Otherwise, I won't be able to eat my meal properly." David Betty's voice carried a hint of pleading.

The captain finally looked up from the data panel and glanced at David Betty.

His weathered face was etched with helplessness.

He knew, of course, that this kid was the second son of the Ravensberg family, a troublesome individual who couldn't be easily offended.

But at the same time, he also knew that although this kid's theoretical knowledge was a complete mess, he had a beast-like intuition.

During a simulated combat exercise before departure, it was this guy's unfounded "premonition" that allowed the entire ship to avoid a deadly torpedo salvo from an "enemy ship" in an escort exercise.

In any case, activating a full-power probe wave once is within the scope of routine maintenance and combat readiness checks.

Between not offending the noble descendants and not violating duty regulations, the captain chose the safest path.

"I can't do anything with you. Hurry up and finish your food." He sighed and turned to a warrant officer in charge of the control panel.

"Warrant Officer, activate the active detection wave, perform a full-power scan once."

“Yes, sir.” The warrant officer’s fingers tapped on the rune keyboard, producing a series of crisp sounds.

Beep beep!

A loud pulse of sound swept across the entire bridge, as if it were the resonating heartbeat of the warship.

Around the "Swift Eagle," an invisible energy wave spread out at the speed of light, quickly sweeping across every inch of space within a radius of 13000 units centered on the ship.

The captain's gaze returned to the golden holographic screen of the bird divination device in front of him.

The scanning beam swept across the three-dimensional star map like ripples. At first, everything was normal, with only the green runes representing friendly ships and the occasional stray specks of space dust flashing.

But just as the scan was about to complete, he saw it.

On the plane directly below the ship, a faint, brief, yet incredibly clear small red dot appeared.

The confusion in his eyes was instantly replaced by horror and a chilling cold.

He almost instinctively gasped, the icy, circulating air filling his lungs and causing a sharp pain. He didn't even have time to think, nor to report to his superiors; he simply mustered all his strength and, facing the bustling, routinely busy command bridge, let out the most desperate and urgent roar of his service:
"torpedo!!!!!"
-
"Multiple hostile projectiles detected! Approaching from the lower ZL quadrant at an elevation of 45 degrees at high speed!"

The sharp, clear report from the sensor officer shattered the solemnity of the bridge of the "Swift Skyhawk".

The voice was devoid of any emotion, yet it carried more weight than any hysterical scream.

Instantly, a piercing alarm blared, and deep red emergency lights splattered like blood onto the Gothic ribbed vaults and the wire-covered bulkheads.

The server slaves emitted a monotonous binary chorus, their optical lenses turned to their respective consoles, and began processing the influx of data at a speed that surpassed human capabilities.

Captain Horatio whirled abruptly from his command seat, his movements swift and steady, avoiding the steaming cup of Reca coffee.

His gaze was already fixed on the holographic sacred image in the center.

Within that three-dimensional star map constructed of light, several red icons flashing with ominous runes were hurtling towards his fleet along precisely calculated trajectories. "Captain!" Horatio's voice, as hard as cold iron, echoed throughout the bridge via the ship's communication system.

"Cut off the docking point! Cut off the docking point for 10 seconds, then lower the bow by 30 degrees! Then use high-energy afterburner for 40 seconds, and use high-energy steering at 2/3 power on the port side! Attention all crew, prepare for the impact!" Although Horatio seemed excited, his professional and well-trained mind remained completely composed.

With the order given, the light cruiser, which was several kilometers long, began to respond to his will.

The ship groaned under immense stress, its structural frame seemingly protesting this sudden and brutal treatment.

Several plasma torpedoes hurtled toward the hull armor of the "Swift Skyhawk," their target being both the flagship and the transport ship that was supplying it with provisions through the massive umbilical replenishment channel.

At this moment, the entire fleet was alarmed by this sudden attack.

On the bridge of the USS Babel, the atmosphere was completely different.

The bridge here lacks the grandeur of a cruiser; it resembles more of a huge, oil-stained, and sweat-smelling factory workshop.

The alarm lights flashed wildly, casting flickering light on the captain's pale face, which had been exposed to circulating air for years.

The transport ship's crew lacked the training in dealing with emergencies that the Imperial Navy possessed. Faced with a sudden attack, the bridge became extremely chaotic, with people shouting and yelling, and only the sound array could help them get through the noise.

"Emergency evasive maneuver! Hard to starboard, high-energy turn to starboard!" the captain roared at the helmsman.

"But Captain, we are still supplying fuel and ammunition to the flagship!" The helmsman's voice trembled with hesitation.

"Move immediately!" the captain roared back, spitting as he spoke onto the brass communicator in front of him.

"This is an order! Execute it, or I'll find a helmsman who can carry it out!"

The helmsman stopped arguing and slammed his hands onto the control stick.

Snap!
As the massive hull of the "Light of Babel" began to swerve awkwardly, the supply tunnel connecting the two ships emitted a sharp, agonizing scream as metal was torn apart.

Immediately afterwards, a violent tremor, powerful enough to displace a person's internal organs, came, and the crew members and damage control team members in the passage fell to the ground amidst screams of terror.

They futilely clung to anything that could be secured, but the transport ship's terrifying acceleration soon left them behind.

"Quick! Back up! Quick!" Old Man Joe's eldest son, now promoted to junior boatswain, was yelling at the damage control team in the corridor.

He signaled to the armed sailors to activate their magnetic boots, firmly attaching themselves to the deck, and to evacuate towards the "Swift Eagle".

But it was too late.

After the violent shaking of the tunnel reached a critical point, accompanied by a dull thud, the section near the engine end of the "Light of Babel" suffered a structural fracture.

boom!
Like a giant beast opening its jaws, a tremendous suction force pulled everything in the passage outwards.

Air, tools, equipment, and even living people were all drawn towards the break in an instant.

Most attempts to resist or use the magnetic boots to hold the shoes in place have been unsuccessful.

The crew members who were connecting the water supply pipes to the light cruiser were the first to be thrown out of the broken section, one by one, like carelessly discarded garbage, into the cold, lifeless void.

(End of this chapter)