Warhammer: Hail to the Void Lords!.

Chapter 833, page 08.832: "Moment of Galloping"

The approaching torpedo alarm ripped through the commotion on the bridge with a heart-wrenching shriek.

Faced with the sudden threat, the Swift Eagle continued to fire and fight the enemy ship that was trying to escape, while simultaneously executing an emergency evasive maneuver.

No one expected it.

The attack did not end with the destruction of several raiding ships.

The sheepdog bared its teeth as a warning to the Dark Eldar and killed the wolf pack vanguard that had dared to attack so recklessly.

However, the wolf pack's offensive momentum did not weaken as a result; on the contrary, the spread of blood sparked a wave of bloodthirsty counterattacks.

"Three torpedoes are approaching the stern!" The lookout officer's voice came through the ship's intercom. His voice was slightly distorted due to tension, but every syllable was crystal clear.

He never let up on the observation scope in his hand, the lens reflecting the glaring red light from the tactical display screen.

"Hard to right immediately!" Horatio made the decision immediately.

The helmsman shouted orders in a hoarse voice as he and several burly crew members worked together to turn the tall, fine gold steering wheel, wishing it could turn faster.

A deep, metallic groan emanated from below the deck—the protest of the 4.5-kilometer-long Dreadnought-class light cruiser's keel under extreme maneuvering.

Each steering engine, amidst the shrieking of the machine spirit, exerted its full power, abruptly pulling the warship's original trajectory to the right, drawing a lightning-fast S-shaped trail in the void.

“You cannot escape, Doggy.” A malicious voice, transmitted through some twisted alien communication technology, rang out directly in the bridge, carrying a nauseating sweetness and cruelty.

This was Ducarly's derogatory term for the Imperial Navy, viewing them as foolish and futile guard dogs.

"Multi-angle crisscrossing torpedoes detected! We are at the point where the trajectories of a saturation attack converge! By the Emperor's grace, we are about to be hit!"

On the tactical hologram in front of Horatio, a dozen new threat markers instantly bloomed, like a patch of blood-red poisonous flowers.

Each red dot represents an incoming torpedo, its angle, speed, bearing, and predicted interception path marked by the Thinker Array's logic engine.

As many as five of the predicted bright red trajectories precisely converged on the evasive path that the Swift Eagle had just forcibly swerved out.

The remaining torpedoes formed a net that was wide open but not leaky, blocking all possible escape routes and intending to squeeze the already precarious survival space of this fleet flagship to zero.

At the critical moment, the seasoned officers who had served Horatio since the Epic demonstrated extraordinary composure.

They remained at their posts, needing not to use their eyes to confirm the will of the man on the throne; orders were issued directly through neural interfaces or bone conduction communication beads, and they responded swiftly.

“Captain, in this situation… what can I do?” a reserve officer asked in a trembling voice, his forehead covered in cold sweat, his brand-new uniform soaked through.

He had just graduated from the Naval Academy, and this was his first combat voyage.

His faith in the Lord of Mankind was unwavering, and his admiration for the rising star Horatio Cochrane led him to board this legendary warship. However, the knowledge he had learned from books seemed pale and powerless in the face of the hellish scene before him.

“Do your job and trust the captain,” Navy Lieutenant Henry Harvey, head of navigation at HMS Swifthawk, replied without looking up.

His eyes were fixed on the holographic ship control diagram, his fingers flying across the holographic control panel, planning the engine output and attitude adjustments every second. His words were simple and cold, yet contained the composure of a seasoned veteran.

"Huh?" The young man was puzzled by the answer.

But Henry Harvey had no time for further explanation. The coordinated operational instructions from the command throne demanded his full attention, assisting the captain in securing a glimmer of hope in this imminent crisis. "Our situation in the Second Damocles Bay was worse than this... well, perhaps."

Newly promoted Navy Ensign David Betty von Ravensberg, mimicking the tone of a seasoned veteran, patted the young man on the shoulder, "Anyway, trust the captain, and trust us experienced officers!"
Young man, this is the first lesson you'll learn on board!

He finally seized the opportunity to play the role of a seasoned veteran in front of the newcomers, hoping to gain what he considered "the respect that Ravensberg deserved."

His feigned composure contrasted absurdly with the genuine fear permeating the bridge, yet strangely eased the tension of the reserve officer slightly.

"Navigation, execute evasive maneuvers, elevate our ship's plane, and move closer to the attack ships we destroyed. Their wreckage can provide us with temporary physical cover."

The power unit prioritizes energy delivery to the Void Shield and Close-In Weapon Group, and the Close-In Weapon System enters 'attack preparedness' mode.

The communications department, in communication with the Sisters of the Holy Rosary, broadcast a short prayer of "Emperor's Protection" to the entire ship to maintain morale, and ordered the Starfire and the Salokan Lion to immediately probe the enemy's approach angle at 80 degrees to our starboard side to provide escort cover for our ship.

"Yes, Captain."

Horatio's orders were quickly relayed and carried out.

This colossal vessel, stretching 4.5 kilometers, reacted with minimal delay thanks to the coordinated operation of tens of thousands of crew members, who worked like a precise set of gears.

The entire warship resembled an enraged beast, tumbling painfully yet gracefully in the void.

Jiong! Hmm—

The piercing alarm suddenly rose in pitch, mingling with the roar of the ship's close-in weapon systems firing at full power, pushing the tense atmosphere of the battle to a new peak.

Upon receiving the 'Prepare for Attack' command, the entire warship immediately entered a full-scale damage control procedure.

This is not just a technical process, but a religious ritual dedicated to the soul of the machine.

In the vast gun corridor, slave laborers, transformed by the Mechanicus, used heavy iron chains to firmly secure the mountain-like cannon shells to the deck under the command of the technical priests.

All loose items were collected by the nearest crew member and placed in the designated niche.

Everyone, from the highest-ranking officers to the lowest-ranking mechanics slaves, prepared themselves in their designated safe positions, whispering the "Prayer of Resistance."

This is a standard procedure that has been passed down for thousands of years and has been verified through countless bloody battles.

Data shows that in a typical engagement, ships that strictly execute the assault preparation ceremony can reduce hull damage and casualties by about 25%—a difference of nearly a quarter, which is no small number in the void battlefield where every strike can determine life or death.

More importantly, the well-prepared crew would not be easily swayed by an asteroid impact or a warship collision; their will was blessed by the God-Emperor through the ritual.

In light of the current crisis, this mode has another crucial effect: the firing rate and accuracy of the entire ship's close-in weapon system will be improved by 50%—by shifting the ship's computing power for the Thinker array from the main weapon to point defense, and by overclocking it appropriately, the calculation of interceptor trajectories can be made more accurate.

Bubbles were rising from the brain tanks on the central defense processor of the Thinker Array, which was immersed in human brains.

Dozens of close-in weapon systems opened fire simultaneously, weaving an impenetrable fire net around the Swift Eagle, composed of tracer rounds and laser beams.

Faced with a dense barrage of leech torpedoes, this 50% increase in interception efficiency is a life-or-death boost for the "Swift Skyhawk" and the entire RX-0371 fleet.

(End of this chapter)