The weight of his decision pressed upon his psyche greatly. The weight of how what he did next affected not just him, but hundreds of lives aboard his ship. The Vengeance had been his home for 3 years. In that time, Tarik had come to meet and befriend so many of his crew. They’d become his family, friends, and lifeline. Not all shared his vision today of a united, concerted Tau, but if his network of listeners were true, most of them did. It was maybe a couple dozen that he knew for sure would not go through with it so his core group had made, accommodations for them. Circumstances that would allow them to retain their dignity. He could not hurt the Republic that he served, and though his plans of leaving the service as prematurely as this, would without doubt be seen as treason, he would never betray Crayter. He did this for Crayter. For all the people of the Tau’s. Very few would ever see it that way though….
He’d been pacing the quieter corridors of his Deimos-class dreadnought for a while now, avoiding higher traffic areas as much as possible. He wanted to absorb his last moments here. It gave him clarity of thought as well, and there was much to consider for the coming times. Every now and again an ensign or marine would pass by and salute him or smile. He returned the gestures with sincerity and continued his wandering….
…”Captain, multiple impacts on the port forward third!” Torren:“Helm! Roll now! 12% to starboard! Execute immediately!”The bridge was the chaotic cacophony of battle. Alert beacons were blinking on multiple panels as frazzled ensigns relayed information to CIC command.
The final battle in 44 had been so slow to materialize. Day after day, swarms of Maltese snub craft would press forward, seemingly dragging in the hulking, bloated forms of Ranseur-class Outcast dreadnoughts with the patchwork of Hasta and Storta war cruisers dotting the sweep around them. The volleys of initial Nightmare Torpedoes would spit forth and though the bulk of them would be extinguished by the darting Crayterian and Guild gunboats and snubs, a few would find their deadly mark and spit flame and fury on their prey. Though not an assured defeat, getting pounded by early swipes of Nightmares usually meant early destruction of your shields capabilities on any capital ship, no matter the size.
It was like a fine art to see the massive juggernauts of Crayterian war might hunt in packs like beasts of the forest. Deimos packs. When executed properly, the tactic was near unbreachable. Throughout this invasion, it’d been their salvation. Over and over, Maltese caps would crawl across the field and unleash their wrath, largely unorganized at the tight bundle of steel and hatred that made up the Deimos packs. Their heavy ordinance that made it past the snub screens would detonate on the lead members and once they could bear no more, they’d fall back into the cord and allow the less damaged vessels to surge forward in their places. With this, they had been victorious. The snubs were a different matter. Most engagements, the Maltese fielded more, and higher skilled pilots thant the allied forces could muster. This was a simple law of survival. Maltese pilots existed by their joysticks, wits, and Cardamine on the edges of space, and often had done so far longer than the service of any snub pilot house military forces fielded.
But today was different. When the lines were formed, Tarik Torren and the Vengeance took position at the back of the pack. The usual exchanges occurred, slowly favouring Guild/Crayterian forces until the front began to buckle on the Maltese line. Taking their turn, the Vengeance surged forward to the head of the pack, but didn’t slow. Not all his command staff were aware- or confident of his plan, but he knew what she could take. “Captain, sections B7-E13 report fires and critical damage.” “Keep the roll. How long till the mortars are back online?” “13 seconds sir” “Target all pulse on the port Rans. FIre….now!”
The brief flickering of the bridge lights showed the massive discharge of the pulse cannons coming to life and sending bright bursts of raw energy to envelop the Outcast vessels shields. The Vengeance was moving forward at max impulse, breaking away from the pack towards the last 2 dreadnoughts, defying all logic and strategy.
The commanders of the other allied cap vessels making up the pack could be heard barking at them through comms. Only one mattered to him now.
“This is Admiral Atreides, get your ass back here Tarik!” He smiled, thinking of Anton Fomin’s comment the other day about “ramming everything”.
A massive impact shook the bridge and threw a couple marines guarding the bridge entrance to the floor. “Sir! We cannot withstand this!” “Mortars!?” “Online sir” “All fire portside target! Roll immediately and fire primaries and hellbores on starboard target!” “But sir their shields!” “-will be down!” he snapped. “Charge jump drives immediately and set jump target Epsilon.” A look of disbelief showed on several faces, staring back at him. “Do it now” “Yessir” The massive ship continued to shake as it was bombarded briefly on both horizontals. This only last a few more seconds as the portside Ranseur blew apart in a brilliant blast of light and debris, washing over the Deimos as the mortars melted, buckled and blew apart her unshielded hull. In the scant few seconds, so many thing happened at once. As the first Ranseur died, multiple pulse and mortar blasts came from somewhere behind their ship as the Styx angrily charged forward, raining hell on the remaining Outcast battleship, dispersing her shields in seconds, quickly followed by Torrens order to fire their remaining batteries on it. The Maltese commander must’ve sense imminent danger as every weapons bore along her exposed flank lit up, arcing towards the Vengeance. In this withering gale that lit up their hull so brightly you could barely see the vessel beneath, the jump drives of the war vessel came to life and the metallic voice crackled through the bridge comms announcing its readiness. “JUMP NOW”