CHAPTER 11
One by one the fleet emerged from velocity, with Vanity pulling out in front, Dean is on all comms messaging the fleet, ordering them to forum up in groups as entailed by the plan. Gallant is to take the rear, as Vito flanks from the right side acted as covering fire. Fermont and Vindication is taking left the flank, leaving Vanity to plough through the front of the enemies’ forces.
With an onslaught of earth’s forces, rays bombarding the planet’s surface, as swiftly as possible, before their chances dwindled. But of course, it has a negative impact. Enemy forces began converging in unison, their mages starships vessels designed to mimic dragons’ physiques, menacing spikes dotted the end of the vessels rear, imitating scales of dragons, and its hull still made of metal plating. Their Foes foreshadowing their vision, started casting various destruction spells spawned from within their ships out into space, while also from their vessel’s rays, in all directions vast extent of flammable flames erupted, fireballs blasted in a cone arc, scorching the stars around. Its intended direction is appointed towards breaking earth's forces formations.
Dark Angels shields rapidly caught in the crossfire, was constantly drained until fully depleted, from the cinders blitz, the Belligerent speeds forwards to cover the Angel's flank. In the process it’s plating rapidly approaching critical heat, soon afterwards the armor dispatches like skin peeling off very effortlessly. Shards of the Belligerents debris continued to float across while scraping the Gothic vessel. Gallant and Vito attempt to take the upper flank, as they span to aft, right behind the fire that the mages starship caused. They unleashed their mighty strength in blind-fire, hoping to hit their targets, to their individual captain's surprise, the shots that did connected was considered effective, they notice the ship fading, implying even if the matter isn’t real or constant, their firepower is somehow achieving damage to these illusions.
But not for long, as cursed patterns formed around Vito, a large hexagon symbol aligned started to rotate, emitting a small electric charge, the energy sizzed as it crept up to its full potential, forcefully engulfing the vessels. An equivalent to an EMP shockwave shutting down all its components and systems, leaving Vito to lay bare, derelict, floating aimlessly. Alongside frying its second generators. Its crew is Motionless in complete disarray and useless.
The hell that accumulated can be seen clearly through the viewpoint window of the Vanity. Dean continues to struggle as he watches the battle unfold before him, as his allies fall, that fellow salutes the ships, one by one, ordering the repositioning of others. As his own ship was bashed about by the sheer force of enemy barrages. “Fire aft! Fire bow! Full spread” Its captain briskly ordered. “Unable to captain, bow rays are fried, aft rays are jammed!” The tactical reported as all the crew were very anxious. He grits his teeth. “Engineering crew, fix aft ray.”
Immediately through the lower decks of engineering Alyth, is already on the case, she strived ahead in a narrow, cramp tube, she found the system she was looking for and begun repairing it. “AYE, AYE! already on it, ya eejits, bloody hell.” Her restless tone heavily implied. The crawling outward of the compact complex was unpleasantly enough but in addition the shaking of the ship made it even worse, occasionally knocking her figure on the tiling of the floor and around the loose cable compartment troublesome.
As expected, the Vanity is taking the brunt, their deflectors supporting a steady limit at 75%. Although some skin of the plating has noticeably dented in its side, some major blast markings scatter throughout, it's a beast by anyone's standards.
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Their foes techniques advanced, as they summoned wisps, that are considered a circular elemental type of being, they surfaced from the atmosphere in groups as offensive formations. “Incoming fighters!” Blake yelled. “Deploy our own.” he exclaimed. As the rest of the capital ships engaged in combat, so did the fewer smaller crafts departing from vanity into the stray, dogfights galore followed suit. Their enemies nimbly, equipped with what could be considered a scaled-down circular patterns equivalent to laser guns, wreaking havoc on the empire's forces via various spells that can be exchanged anytime.
Intrepid fell much like its predecessors, in a magnificent explosion, the fiery shockwave shot outward like a tidal wave tilting any ships in its vicinities wake. Next was the “Gallant” serving the fleet well, its carcass of the hull was torn directly in half. Crew members caught in the middle were swallowed into the abyss of space; no one heard anything else after that. The remaining debris sling-shotted, colliding with other remaining ally ships, as exquisite interior opulent arts and deco were lost to the chill of the void.
Now more than ever the accumulated guilt of starting the war is more evident on the man’s consciousness, losing the edge to captain his own vessel, the flagship of the English navy, nay, humanity itself, the notion “Vanity” losing its sting.
“She’s up tae high doh, gon on fire away ya bunch of lavvy heid!” Exclaimed the Gaelic engineer. As she made her way to the escape pod bay.
In a pitiful desperation of any last dignity remaining, the once proud owner of vanity attempted to utterly scramble its firepower “Aft rays fire now! NOW!” Yet with the significant loss of his ally’s earth's fleet, the motion to fight is becoming futile, clearly outmatched by the enemy’s wits. Strike one for the dark arts. The Dark Angel too fell not long after with the possibility of its crew and captain obliterated. Belligerents spectacularly flared up as it too was heart wrenching to witness, its entire hull exterior frozen over in meteor ice.
All personnel aboard the Vanity were evacuated, the escape pods detached from the vessel as all but one, as Alyth discovered, clambering inside the last remaining pod, she notices the Finnish drunkard yet to eject the hatch, she settled into the pod, groaning adjusting herself as she settled. Looking at the cadet, the man sighed, sat up pouring the remaining liquor into two separate glasses he just so happened to have on him. Heikki then offered the Scots lass to drink as both clinked their glass, their mutual feelings under the English forced conscription rule. “To hell… with the English... kippis” (cheers) “Aye lad, I'll drink to that” ... the pod was ejected as it ignited sending them off into the hell-scape of the war and into warp safety out of the sector.
Blake rustled with Dean to evacuate before the loss of its most vital asset, to the survival of the Britannia imperials, his confession as he pleaded. “I cannot, don’t you see! I started this War! This blood is on my hands! I must see this through, I’m responsible for all the lives lost here.” the commanding Officer retaliated. “We can build more ships, but we can’t replace its captain if they're DEAD!” our allies fought well, but it’s clear we are outmatched, outgunned.” Dean stumbles back… another pause was insured, the rocking of the ship as it is buckling under its remaining deflectors reaching minimum as Vanity was the last remaining vessel, their shields rapidly decaying, their chances of survival was inadequate. Reasoning, Dean was still paralysed as he must decide to make a choice, then a thought occurred to him as a last-minute endeavor, his despair clearly turning into desperation.
“No-no no, not yet, humanity has one chance, them… they needs to be summoned.”
The Commanding officer this time was apprehensive as the idea. “You don’t mean? “That's a final… FINAL! resort, deploying it too early- “
Dean vulgarly attempted reasoning “Look around you Blake, this was a massacre, our arrogance blinded us. Blinded our judgment”
The fellow officer was now trying to reconcile. “But our arrogance is the driving force of the imperials, it's how we succeeded in warfare.”
“Perhaps.” Dean mentioned, as he is still struggling to get his point across “or wishful narcissism…” while the meaning isn’t completely lost on the commander, they attempt to communicate with earth. “Comms down.” By Deans sorrowfully acute observation.
Then he and Blake rushed to the captain's chair, both keying in an encryption lock on either side of the armrest as their final act. “Captain, Vanity, bravo, India, Sierra. “Commander, Zulu, Yankee, lima, papa.” a warning buzzed but a channel was open.
“Message for earth, we are outmatched, major casualties lost. Requesting immediate action”. All they could do now is look out into the vastness of space, a tear trickled down the captain's right eye, a small chuckle mange’s to touch his lips. Not evening turning to his friend “I really was an arrogant asshole, what did you ever see in me?” They both just stood aimlessly, spectating their last moments together, as a friend and as a crew, at the end of it all, camaraderie till the very end. As they watched sparingly, hoping their efforts were valiant.