The Colours of War: The Old Salts

by inverted1

This is the story of Captain Kolmya, commander of the Cruiser Sea Hawk in the Cadarian Sea during the Alara war. However, the apperence of the Orange Star battleship Karken theatens to cut Kolmya's career, and his life, short. Please Comment.

2. The Battle of Swordfish Bay

The Colours of War

The Old Salts

Part 2 of the Cadarian Sea Conflict (Max Strikes)

"What if the enemy send its subs under? That'll stop you cold."

CO Grit on the eve of the battle.

"Major Levitzky? He followed his orders to the letter and was posthumously disgraced for it. I consecutively disobeyed mine and was decorated for it."

Captain Kolmya on Major Levitzky

"The naval engagement at Swordfish Bay was won by the cool headedness, bravery and superior fighting skills of the Orange Star Navy. But if the Blue Moon Navy adhered to their original strategy or deployed a single submarine, they would've destroyed us."

Admiral Harris on the battle of Swordfish Bay.

The vehicle threw up splashes of oil-slicked water as it rounded another dark corner at break-neck speed. It was an all-purpose 4X4 GP car, or "Jeep", stripped of its front line reconnisance brethren's machine gun, with its folding canvas roof thrown up to offer some meagre protection from the unseasonable elements typical of the Cadarian sea. The driver, a young lieutenant of Zherdevka naval base's staff drivers, took another turn at deadly speed, but the passenger, wearing the dress uniform of a ship Captain next to him didn't stir. He kept his head turned away from the enthusiastic driver, looking out to BMN ships anchored in the port. The grim lighting showed rust streaks and some signs of battle damage, parts of their superstructure blown away, areas of hull covered with protective tarpaulins, welding sparks briefly illuminating the ship's looming features with flashes of light. It was a sorry picture of the once proud Cadarian sea fleet, the passenger mused. Were loosing. Everyone knows. The BMN hadn't yet fought a full scale fleet engagement, but the string of defeats the army had suffered, paired with a high number of ships sunk by OSN ships appearing out of the mist was taking its toll.

"Fleet HQ, sir." The young driver said cheerfully as the jeep pulled up in front of a well-lit building.

"I see you haven't quite killed us yet." Said the passenger as he wearily unfolded himself from the seat. For the first time, he turned to face the driver and threw the kid a half-hearted salute.

"Sir! Are you Captain Kolmya?" The lieutenant said, amazed.

"Good evening." Kolmya said and turned his back on the man and began to walk up the stairs to the headquarters.

"Well done, sir!" The driver called as the jeep pulled away from the HQ.

Mustering a little more enthusiasm, Kolmya saluted the two sentries posted on the entrance. He then took a deep breath and stepped inside the building. Immediately, he was swamped by the quiet bustle of the building. His feet rapped on the polished wood floor as he walked past the rolls of honour naming past naval officers and pictures of famous ships. He absently gazed at the legendary BMS Unyielding and the celebrated BMS Gallant, as well as the submarine BMS Predator and the cruiser BMS Tempestuous. His eyes came to rest on a new addition to the lines of heroic ships. It was a recent picture of a cruiser at anchor. His eyes flicked to the name plaque below. Then did a double take.

"The Sea Hawk!"

"Hahaha! I salute you comrade!" In a daze, Kolmya turned to see the grinning face of his old friend, Captain Nikolay Glasunov. Yet it barley registered against the numbing shock of seeing his ship pictured on the fleet HQ wall.

"That's right! You're a hero! How are you my friend?" Glasunov laughed again and embraced him. Kolmya tried to come to his senses.

"Like a pile of shite! My driver nearly killed me! Yourself?" He grinned despite himself.

"I've stayed alive somehow. Come, I must take you to the briefing."

"But damn! My ship is on the wall!" Kolmya's head was buzzing with amazement. He knew that his capture of the Orange Star battleship Kraken had been an excellent victory, but he hadn't expected his ship to be ranked amongst the greatest in the history of the Blue Moon Navy.

"Do not worry Alexi. My own Tempest will soon be alongside the Hawk. Now about this operation."

"I did wonder what high command had planned next." Kolmya couldn't keep the scorn out of his voice for the navy's senile leaders. Taking decisions based on strategies decades obsolete and detached from reality, Kolmya believed them largely responsible for the BMN's current failure.

"I reckon were gonna support the ground forces around Swordfish Bay. Apparently were going to pull a fair few battleships off patrols for fire support."

Kolmya considered this. "I could see that working if we do it right. That means sub protection patrols for us cruisers then."

"Well, we shall see. Here we are."

Glasunov pushed open a pair of doors and Kolmya went in the room. Rows of seats faced a central podium with a large-scale map of the Cadarian theatre of operations.

Kolmya had just taken his seat on the third row next to Glasunov when an officer called the room to attention. The assembled officers sprang to their feet as C.O Olaf entered the room, flanked by senior staff officers covered in trivial decorations. Olaf wore a simple uniform with no denotations of rank except for his peaked cap with its golden crescent. His hair ran from his head seamlessly into his large beard and moustache. He was not an overly tall man, yet he made up for it with his presence. His ice blue eyes effortlessly swept the room, quelling each and every officer. Kolmya could almost feel the temperature drop. The most powerful man in Blue Moon, under his driving leadership Blue Moon forces had swept into Orange Star, carrying all before them. Feared by his allies as well as his enemies, Olaf was a man who wielded incredible power.

"As you were." His gruff voice rang out across the room and the audience took their seats. The C.O nodded at one of his staff officers, who rose and stood in front of the map.

"Good evening gentlemen. This operation has been codenamed Operation Paladin. The objective is to provide support to our ground forces, who are counter-attacking C.O Max's forces around the Swordfish Bay area."

Kolmya nudged Glasunov. "You're Good."

Glasunov grinned. "I have eyes everywhere!"

Chortling, the two men returned their attention to the briefing.

"The ships that will take part in the primary stage are the Resilient, Ironclad, Valliant and Endeavour." A murmur buzzed through the briefing room.

Glasunov leaned over to Kolmya. "They're all battleships, no?"

Kolmya frowned. "I think so."

The rest of the audience must have been thinking the same. Commander Dmitriev, the celebrated submarine leader, sprang to his feet.

"Sir, will there be no Cruisers or Submarines in this operation?" He spoke directly to Olaf, ignoring the briefing officer.

Olaf spoke. "Submarines will be deployed to harass the retreating enemy. The Cruisers will be held back to deter enemy aircraft. The battleships will do the work in this operation."

Dmitriev was a brave man, and he persisted. "But sir…"

"NO!" Olaf shouted. Kolmya resisted the urge to shiver and tried to shake off the feeling of the room being much colder.

"I will have battleships!" Olaf's blue eyes bored into Dmitriev's and the sub commander sat. The rest of the briefing was a blur for Kolmya.

"So did you hear about Port Saphire?" Glasunov asked as they exited the briefing.

"Yes. No details though, like everything else." The Yellow Comet attack to Port Saphire had come as a surprise to the BMN, but Kolmya had been frustrated with the lack of real Intel, as he had nowhere near a high enough clearance level to hear more than propaganda.

"I hear the landings were a success. Our ground forces have been pushed off the beach."

"Dammit Nikolay, where are you getting your intel from?"

"I will tell you, I promise. Now is not exactly the time." Glasunov said solomly.

"Very well then." Kolmya dropped his voice. "Olaf."

"It worries me as well."

"What happened to tactics?" Kolmya tried to joke, but he was genuinly worried.

"I too worry for the navy. But what can we do?" Glasunov fished out a packet of cigarettes. They were getting quite hard to come by. "Now, what really scares me…" Glasunov paused as he lit his and Kolmya's cigarettes. "…is fighting alongside some disaster like yourself. I mean, you can't even steer! You keep hitting other ships!"

Kolmya laughed as he stepped back outside. Now, the grimmy docks didn't look so miserable. The roads glittered with water as a convoy of GP cars arrived to take the officers back to their vessels.

"Try and contain your jealousy, friend." Said Kolmya as they walked towards the jeeps.

"Captain Kolmya, sir!" A familiar voice called out. The young staff officer who had taken Kolmya to the HQ waved from behind the wheel of the lead jeep.

"Oh crap. You take that one." Kolmya pointed Glasunov in the direction of the driver. "Hopefully he'll kill you."

Glasunov nodded in recognision. "Your driver on the way in?"

"Indeed. I'll see you in a few days." Kolmya said as Glasunov's transport roared off at dangerous speeds.

"So what was the briefing then, sir?" Torin said shamlessly as he joined Kolmya on the walkway that ran in front of the Sea Hawk's bridge. Kolmya was wearing a hooded waterproof jacket as protection from the elements as torrents of rain lashed off the deck.

"That's classified commander."

"I got you this, sir." Torin showed Kolmya the mug of coffee he had been shielding from the rain with his own jacket.

"How are the crew shaping up?" Kolmya asked, stalling for time.

"Much better, sir. Capturing the Kraken really rose moral." Torin replied. That much was true. Despite rest of the navy's low spirits, the Sea Hawk's crew were in top form. Valmir's nervous enthusiasm was being gradualy replaced with solid proffesionalism and Kastyalma was becoming more confident every day.

"Excellent. Were going to need everyone on top of their game."

"The briefing, sir?" Torin prompted.

"It's a ground support operation, in Swordfish Bay. Battleship job." Kolmya said as he took the drink.

"Subs?" Torin asked.

"Were just there to stop a bomber raid from throwing a spanner in the works. I don't think the thought of subs occurred to him." Kolmya didn't need to say who.

"He's changed, hasn't he?" Torin couldn't keep the concern out of his voice.

Kolmya didn't know what to say.

Swordfish Bay was a body of water off Orange Star stretching from the city of Jefferson to the city of Ganton and their surrounding towns. The area derived its name from the thousands of fossils of prehistoric swordfish, wiped out by some unknown catastrophe millions of years ago before men had even evolved on Wars World, that could be found on the bay's beaches. From the southern city of Ganton, route 74 ran north alongside Ganton's beaches for miles, before curving to the west to stay with the sea. It then continued past the great cliffs in the middle of the bay untill it reached the city of Jefferson.

The area had seen little action throughout the war, yet this idylic peace had come to an end. A storm was coming to Swordfish bay.

Commodore Petrov tugged at his boots, but despite his labours, they remained too tight. This irritated him. An officer of the Blue Moon Navy who was to win fame and glory should at least do so in comfortable footwear.

"Well?" He snapped at the comms officer of the Resiliant's bridge crew.

"Sir, trackrad has picked up three enemy vessels at 459320."

"Enemy vessels? I was informed that they had nothing in the region, sub-lietenant." Petrov was careful to stress the man's lowly rank.

"Sir, I think one of them is the Behemoth, sir."

Suddenly, everything changed for Commodore Petrov. The situation dawned one him. The enemy had deployed a battleship. And not just any battleship, the Behemoth, sister ship of the captured Kraken. It would have to be destroyed before the taskforce could support the ground troops. A snag in the operation. But he could save the day! His young plump face quivered with barley contaned excitement at his plan. The Resilant could take the Behemoth before the rest of the Taskforce were slowed! As the lead ship, it was his duty to move forward, to lead the way. Besides, the credit must go to him, Sergey Petrov, and to him only. This would be his triumph. The Ressiliant would protect the mission and lead the way, and he would be a hero.

"Sir, what are your orders?" The comms officer prompted.

"Helmsman! Bearing 40 degrees to port. Engines to full power! Battle stations! Mister comms officer, alert Admiral Tachyov that the Resiliant is engading the Behemoth! Engines to full speed! Prepare the cannons!"

"Sir? What about the other enemy? I think that they're subs!" The comms officer stammered.

"Obey my orders or I will have you arrested man!"

The Resiliant's gargantum propulsion systems cycled up to full power and the ship surged ahead of the taskforce. The men rushed to man their stations and the five great guns began to turn. The hatches between the ammunition stores and the guns were opened. The first man sized shells were raised up to the firing decks.

Fresh to the battle for Orange Star, C.O Max's 2nd army were pushing along the coast from Jefferson as part of the overal liberation of Orange Star. Max's tanks had destroyed all before them with the expertise and energy that was the hallmark of the Orange Star leader. To counter this threat, Blue Moon had assembled sizable forces of their own to meet Max's offensive head on to defend Ganton, the Blue Moon regional Headquarters since the start of the war. Moving reserves from the Blue Moon interior reaches as well as throwing old units into the line, Olaf had twice as many Volk KW LG-22 tanks to put against the OS Mk 9 Bradshaw LBT equivilants and matched Orange Star's Mk 4 Marshall MBT medium tanks, or MDs, with an equal number of Medved MD-64s.

However, Olafs greatest strength at Swordfish Bay was the navy. Four of Blue Moon's largest battleships, as well as an escort force of crusiers and submarines, had steamed from their base at Zherdevka at full speed to take part in the battle. Hugging the coast in foul weather, their appearance took Max by surprise. All that could be thrown into line against them was the captured Kraken's sister ship, the Behemoth and two submarines pulled off hunter-killer patrols, a pitiful force to oppose the mighty task force of Operation Paladin. On the day of the battle for Swordfish bay, the lines of tanks drew up out of range of each other on route 74. Behind them, mobile artillery units and rocket delivery vehicles rolled forward. Infantry moved forward alongside them. The Blue Moon forces were deployed in two groups. As Max's tanks moved to engage the first wave, the battleships would bombard the weakened OS tank force and the second wave, led by one of Blue Moons greatest tank aces, Major Levitzky, would sweep in to annihilate the remains. They would then roll up the flank of the Orange Star army and break through the enemy lines, plunging the OSA into chaos and tipping the scales of the Alara campaign. At 0934, the lead Blue Moon battleship, the Resilient, steamed ahead of its counterparts and fired its first ranging shots against the Behemoth. The battle for Swordfish Bay had begun.

"Kastyalma! Whats going on?" Kolmya demanded as the sound of naval gunfire rolled over the Hawk.

"Sir! The Resilient has engaged the enemy!" Valmir called out.

"What! When did the battleships get in range?" Kolmya thought the battle was yet to start for at least another 30 minutes.

"The Tempest is hailing us sir." Kastyalma said.

Kolmya picked up a speaker. "Go ahead Nikolay."

"That kid Commodore Petrov has screwed up Alexi! He's broken formation and committed too early." Glasunov's voice was full of anger. "And it gets better! They've got two subs in the water!"

Kolmya knew immediately what needed too be done. Kolmya had a good idea how Petrov had got himself a battleship command, he had never seen any action and spent all his time behind a desk in Zherdevka, yet his father was a rich man with powerful friends, and that was all that was needed to elevate the young boy to a superior rank to Kolmya and earn him a position that the cruiser captain wouldn't achieve for another ten years. But that was irrelevant. Kolmya knew that without cruiser support, the battleships were scrap metal.

"Damnit, Nikolay, we are going to have to commit."

"Tell that to our Admiral friend." The transmission ended.

Admiral Tkachyov's head snapped up as he heard the sounds of naval gunfire for the first time. Even from a great distance away, the rolling punches could be felt in the gut.

"Whats going on, Captain?" Tkachyov demanded of his second in command.

"Sir, the Resilient has engaged the Behemoth, sir."

"The Behemoth? I thought that there would be no enemy battleships."

"Indeed sir." Captain Chigorin had ample experience in dealing with Tkachyov and the senior officers of this kind; he had a long mental list of perfectly neutral responses.

"And what is he doing out of formation?" Tkachyov demanded.

"Well sir, I couldn't-"

"And why did he not ask my permission before breaking formation?"

"I really couldn't-"

"Answer me man! We've had too much of this recently, you hear! I am appalled at the state of the Blue Moon Navy captain, appalled!" The Admiral snapped at Chigorin, as if he was personally responsible.

"Sir, incoming transmission from Captain Kolmya!" The Communication officer called.

"I hardly have the time for that." Tkachyov said acidly. He needed to make a decision.

For a 30 tonne piece of metal, the Bradshaw could move. Flanking their Marshall MD brethren on the road, the two OSA tank units rolled forwards. As the distance between the two sides closed to firing range, the OS tankers laid their guns. The Bradshaw had thinner armour than the Volk as well as a taller construction, but its targeting systems were far superior, with electrically powered turret traverse to acquire targets with ease. Suddenly, the Orange Star gunners were in firing range. Slewing to a halt, they opened fire. High explosive anti-tank, or HEAT warheads ploughed into the Blue Mooners. The thick sloping front armour deflected some, but the majority slammed home. Turrets were destroyed, tracks ripped off, crews roasted alive behind hatches fused closed. Fully half of the tank units had been knocked out. A handful of Mark 9s did not resume the advance, and one was spectacularly obliterated by two shots from different directions, but the majority continued unharmed. The Bradshaws, with minimal losses, had mauled the Volks; only the cover of the woods and town saved Olaf's tanks from crippling losses. Then the Marshalls began to move. More ponderous then their lighter brothers, their large guns almost lazily lined up on the Menved unit guarding the road. Route 74 was totally bare of cover. The only thing that would protect the heavy metal was their armour and each other. As they advanced into firing range, the Marshalls dropped into formation. The central tanks revved forwards and the rear vehicles drew in, forming a textbook wedge formation. Firing range. With a series of clanging retorts, the Menveds fired. One Marshall lurched and slewed off the road, spewing brown smoke. Another continued with a scar of bright metal exposed by a deflected solid shot. The rest continued, silent cannons menacing. Now that the Marshalls were well within firing range, Olaf's tank crews realised their predicament. The Orange Star boys had let their enemy fire early and advanced until they couldn't miss, until every shot would count. One Menved panicked and tried to reverse into the one behind it, another hopelessly started peppering the MDs with its machine gun. The Marshalls opened fire, all the tanks discharging their cannons at almost exactly the same moment. The Menved unit disintegrated in a storm of high explosive 120mm shells. The only survivors were the tanks that were in the rear rank. Within minutes, the supporting artillery and rocket units had moved up behind them. Max's tanks had moved in engaged the Blue Moon first line with minimal losses and the battleships were not even in position.

The earth shaking boom of the Resilient's monumental cannon could be heard from the headquarters of both armies, any passing submarine crew would feel it, as would every solider and sailor taking part in the battle of Swordfish bay. So for the crewmen of the Resilient, the noise was colossal. Rivets were sheared off bulkheads, glass shattered, and computer screens died. Commodore Petrov could barely restrain his glee at what such power could do to the enemy. Which was what was about to happen.

"Mister Nekrasov?" Petrov asked the Resilient's weapons officer.

"Cannons ready sir." Nekrasov was grinning with anticipation. Nothing could withstand the power of a full battleship barrage. Commodore Petrov drew a breath.

"Fire!"

Five powerful thumps threw Resilient's crew to the ground. The whole ship seemed to jump a foot backwards and warning sirens began to wail. Something had gone horribly wrong. Petrov cursed as he scrambled back to his feet, all composure lost.

"Report!" Petrov called.

"Hull breach through 7 decks! I've lost watertight compartments C through J! All engine power is gone! Numbers 3, 4 and 5 cannon out of action. We've been torpedoed." The blood drained from the engineering officer's face.

"Sir, the magazine has been damaged."

"Return fire!" Petrov brawled.

"We need to lock down sir!"

"Enemy submarine sighted to port sir!" The sub hadn't even bothered to dive. While the Resilient had been occupied with the Behemoth, the OSN submarine had struck. All 5 of its torpedoes had hit home, punching through the hull armour before detonating. In the engine room, superheated steam spewed from ruptured pipes as the turbines ceased to function. Ratings died in hellish conditions fighting to keep the great engines running, yet to no avail. The second and third torpedoes blew huge chunks out of the Resiliant's hull, letting in tons of water that overwhelmed the watertight compartments. The fourth torpedo burst through the ship's armoured skin into one of the crew living spaces, astonishing a 3rd class rating who had been hiding, terrified, from the combat. He barley had time to whimper before the weapon detonated, obliterating the boy. The armour actually managed to withstand the final torpedo, but the great dent beaten into the ship by the projectile destroyed the motors that turned the gun turrets, along with several crewmen, crushed by the tortured metal of their vessel. And, by some impossible chance, managed to damage the magazine, where thousands of rounds of small arms, chains of large calibre machine gun ammunition, and shell after shell of 16-inch cannon ammo was stored. The Resilient was on its knees.

"Return fire!" Petrov yelled at the top of his voice. As the Resilient died, the OSNS Behemoth prowled towards the stricken vessel, moving in for the kill. The subs slipped beneath for more prey. Someone actually did fire the Resilient's last two functioning cannon, and despite the locked traverse, one 16 inch shell plunged through the OSN battleships heavy deck armour to destroy the anchor winch, sending the anchor chain whipping away and the anchor plunging into the sea. The Behemoth was now at close range, all five of its cannons lined up on the crippled Resilient. To Commodore Sergey Petrov, it looked like all the guns were pointed at him.

The bridge of the Valliant was overwhelmed by warnings, updates, requests and messages from the rest of the taskforce.

"Sir, OSA forces have engaged the tanks!"

"The Resilient has been hit!"

"Enemy subs sighted!"

"Admiral, Captain Kolmya requests permission to engage the submarines." Captain Chigorin asked Tkachyov.

"Are you unfamiliar with our mission briefing, Captain?" Tkachyov said. "The cruisers task is to deter enemy aircraft. Kolmya will have to curb his heroics today. Tkachyov smirked triumphantly. Feeling that he had reasserted control, he turned his attentions back to the Resilient. "Order Petrov back into formation at once! And move us forward into firing positions!"

A dark shape moved beneath the waves. A single cyclops eyestalk slowly turned as the Orange Star Submarine Kharybdis quietly moved in towards the lead Blue Moon battleship, the Ironclad. It leisurely lined up its sights on the enemy. There was no rush, as the Blue Moon navy seemed unaware of their invisible stalkers, despite the mortal wounding of the Resilient. The Ironclad was in the periscope's sight. With a series of plush thuds, five torpedoes carved through the water towards their unsuspecting prey. Against all the odds, a pitiful thrown together unit of Volks from the first line had managed to slip through the advancing OSA units and wreak havoc amongst the artillery. With the lead OSA tanks encountering nothing but an open road, they turned about and finished of the first line's last spasms of resistance. From behind the artillery, infantry came with bazookas and from the other direction came Bradshaws and Marshals. 80mm guns sounded, and a Blue Moon Menved commander running from his vehicle was blown apart by several machine guns. The first line was destroyed. Commodore Sergey Petrov stared at the five loaded barrels aimed at him. Each one contained a shell with enough kinetic energy to pierce meters of deck armour and enough explosive power to blow a house sized crater in the earth. He was going to die. "Fire." He whispered.

The Behemoth fired. Commodore Sergey Petrov died. Along with over 2000 crewmen he had doomed. In a spectacular explosion, the stricken Resilient's magazine exploded and the battleship broke in half, sinking in minutes. The Resilient went down with all hands.

"Good grief, sir. They got the Resilient." Captain Chigorin said.

"That's not possible man! Talk sense!" Tkachyov snapped.

"Sir, call from Captain Kolmya." Chigorin held up a headset.

"Again?"

"He says its important, sir." Kolmya had done no such thing, but Chigorin handed Tkachyov the headset regardless.

"This better be good Captain." Tkachyov said reluctantly.

"Admiral?"

"Yes!"

"There are two enemy subs in the water Admiral, one at 546498 and the other in the vicinity of-"

"How many years have you served in the Blue Moon Navy Captain?"

"Sir?"

"You heard me. How many years have you served in the Blue Moon Navy?"

"24 years."

"…"

"Sir, I need permission to engage the submarines sir. Or the operation will fail."

"Well, what rank am I, captain?"

"You are an admiral, admiral."

"Damn right I am. That means I am your superior. So don't presume to tell me my business, you hear? You know that your mission is to deter enemy aircraft! Nothing more! Just because you pulled off some pathetic stunt does not give you the right to lecture superior officers! You're a jumped up, ignorant peasant! You don't even hold a real commission! Kolmya? Kolmya!"

Kolmya calmly handed the headset back to Kastyalma.

"Did you get him sir?"

Kolmya paused. "I didn't get an admiral, Midshipman." Kolmya took a breath before continuing. "Helmsman! 20 points to port! Midshipman, kindly signal the Tempest. We're going in gentlemen! Prepare to engage submarines!"

It didn't take an expert to tell how the land battle was progressing. The OSA were taking advantage of the minimal resistance and moving forward fast. Major Levitzky just hoped that they had gone beyond the range of their artillery and rocket cover. If they hadn't, his boys were in for a very short battle. Even if Max's tanks had outrun their protective artillery umbrella, it was only a matter of time until they caught up. Levitzky scolded himself for imagining otherwise. Levitzky's nearest support was still in Ganton, a hopeless situation. Yet he had no choice. Orders were orders, and the major had long resigned himself to death in battle. Still, he couldn't stop his mind from desperately racing from wild plan to wild plan, anything to escape with his life. He wanted to be stopped, for some sudden orders that would have him dragged home. But the battle was his home. It was too late. He had to go. This had always been his fate.

Levitzky had turned and slowly walked to his steed.

The name "Old Ironside" had been painted onto its flank. At first glance, it was a standard Medved MD-64. However, closer inspection would reveal a number of discreet modifications that gave it considerable advantage over its enemies. It had been his faithful companion throughout his career. And now it would dutifully take him forward one last time. Each footstep towards "Old Ironside" was a struggle of will, but around him were the ghosts of his brothers who had gone in battle before him. Levitzky looked up at his tank. It had never seemed so high up. A hand appeared.

"Never trust the navy eh sir. Ready?"

"Im ready." Levitzky accepted the proffered hand and swung himself onto the hull.

Drawn up around Levitzy's personal vehicle were Volk companies, and Menveds from the famed Guards Armoured outfits. All hardened, experienced, veteran troops, all of them had fought countless battles. He knew them all intimately. They had all come so far. They had gone together through some of the hardest fighting of the war, shared elation and sadness, killed for each other. Died for each other. Levitzky sighed as he pulled on his padded leather headset and flicked down the wire mic.

"This is Old Ironside to all units. I won't lie to you lads, its looking grim. I only want volunteers on this one. Over." Levitzky held his breath.

"When did you become such a miserable bastard sir? Im with you all the way."

"To hell and back Old Ironside. We're ready."

"This is what I call a target rich environment lead. Standing by."

"Lets make history sir."

"You lead and I follow. Standing by."

"Death or glory eh Ironside? Sounds like a job for the Blue Moon Army. Awaiting your command."

"With you to the end lead."

"Very well then. Lets give them a fight to remember! All units, advance!" Levitzky ordered.

As one, the combined forces of the second line went forward against overwhelming odds, above and beyond the call of duty. Not one crew faltered.

As the Kharybdis prepared to fire again on the Ironclad, the second OSN submersible, the Scylla, lined up on Endeavour. Its actions were hurried now, as the sub had detected two BMN cruisers moving forward. It appeared that their secret was finally out. No matter though, for there was ample time to send the battleships to the seabed. The Scylla fired.

"Admiral! The Ironclad and the Endeavour have sustained torpedo damage! The Resilient is gone! The first line is broken!" Chigorin couldn't keep the despair and anger out of his voice. A good plan had fallen to pieces and men had needlessly died.

"Captain! Order Petrov back into formation now! I have already given this order!" Tkachyov blustered.

"Sir! The Resilient is gone!"

Nonsense! Ensure that my orders are carried out captain. That is the basis upon which I-"

"Admiral! The Sea Hawk and the Tempest are breaking formation!" A trackrad lieutenant cried.

"What!?" The Admirals face flushed a deeper red. " Get me that insubordinate scum Kolmya now!"

"The Valliant is hailing us Captain." Even Kastyalma was aware what Kolmya was doing, and his young face was full of concern.

"Tell him to standby." Kolmya didn't even look away from the horizon.

"But sir!" Kastyalma pleaded.

Kolmya looked at him. His bridge crew weren't stupid. They knew how the battle was progressing, and Kolmya hoped that they saw the logic in his actions. But Kastyalma was still unhappy about lying to a superior officer.

"Whats he going to do Midshipman? Shoot us?" Kolmya grinned in an attempt to reassure the lad, but his face had suddenly paled.

"The Valliant is about to open fire if we do not resume our positions."

"Lay on and fire at will." Levitzky ordered.

The BMA phalanx opened fire. Scores of main weapons blasted fire and iron. Two Bradshaws sustained direct hits and a Marshall began to burn oily smoke. The enemy returned fire, lobbing tons of munitions into the enemy mass. However, despite their newer targeting systems, the Orange Star tanks were mostly overshooting. This was because they were gunning the throttles for all it was worth, while Levitzky kept his machines well below their maximum revs. Normally this would be foolhardy for the BMA, as a fast vehicle is harder to hit, yet today it was paying dividends in increased accuracy. But there came a moment in any tank brawl when a decision had to be made to halt or break through. Although he would be playing to the strengths of the heavier Blue Moon tanks by stopping and shooting it out, Levitzky didn't have the time. He needed to break the OSA before they could bring down some artillery. The two forces were closing as more ordinance screamed overhead. Levizky keyed his mic. "Old Ironside to all units. Prepare for breakthrough on my mark."

"Well lads, didn't I save something special for this occasion?" Levitzky laughed as he pulled out the RGL-7 rocket launcher from behind his seat.

"How many days have I spent in this tank sir? And you hid that?"

"It's a big tank Viktor. Range?" He asked as he flipped up the optical sights on the launcher.

"And its a bloody big rocket launcher sir. Range 20!"

"Alright. Showtime!" And with that, Levitzky pushed open the hatch and stood in the turret.

"Still getting me down there?" He asked as he swung the RGL onto his shoulder.

"Loud and clear."

"Ironside to all units. Mark!"

With that all the BMA tanks shot forward to full speed and fired off a massive salvo of cannon.

"We have two Marshalls tracking us Major." The gunner called.

"Gotcha Viktor. You take the left one. Fire!"

As the Old Ironside roared, Levitzky fired the RGL-7. The rocket trail snaked forwards and blew through the first Marshall's 180mm armour as Ironside's cannon knocked out a second. The tank vapourised in a colossal explosion. Levitzky's crew cheered as the tanks forces collided.

"Nikolay, we have a snag." Kolmya said.

"What is the problem Hawk? Bag a sub and dodge the battleship. Its an in and out comrade."

"Make that two battleships. Bloody Tkachyov is threatening to open fire on us for breaking formation."

"Say again Alexi?"

"The Valliant will fire on us."

"He won't do it! He doesn't have the balls!"

"Im not too sure Tempest. He's fragged. Be advised."

"I stand advised Hawk. Over."

Kolmya hung up and stared ahead. He thought he knew risks. In any engagement a ship captain must evaluate whether it was worth risking his ship before committing himself. Yet here he was, disobeying orders to engage a target that wasn't specified in his mission objectives. He reached for the mic.

"Torin? Give me 5 more knots."

Hit four times amidships, Rear-Admiral Markovitch of the Endeavour managed to dodge the second torpedo salvo with a dazzling sequence of naval manoeuvres that would have been the highlight of any lesser engagement. Coughing blood from a wound sustained from the first salvo, he took the stricken ship into cannon range of the Behemoth. Both ships opened fire on each other at once.

Old Ironside lurched as a Bradshaw 80mm round bounced off the front armour. Levitzky didn't take his eyes off the scope. The return 125mm shot sheared the turret clean off the OSA machine. The fight was brutal. The major had never known opponents so powerful. Every blow was crushing in force and delivered at lightening speed. Although Levitzky knew that the OS tankers were worn down after their confrontation with the first wave, they seemed to be getting more ferocious as the fight continued. Twice he thought his boys had found a weakness in the enemy mass, yet twice his thrusts had been destroyed. He could feel the initiative slipping. Pausing only to kill a Marshall with a spectacular shot under the track guards, Levitzky rallied his men and launched another attack.

"Lieutenant! I a warning salvo over the Hawks bows! NOW!" Tkachyov bellowed. The young Lieutenant at the fire control console obliged without thinking and before Chigorin could stop him, the five 17 inch cannons had blossomed fire and the shells were screaming towards the Sea Hawk.

A gasp was heard on the bridge of the Hawkas the Valliant fired. Eyes nervously flicked skywards as the massive projectiles closed on the ship. Only Kolmya didn't flinch as five giant plumes of water reached into the sky.

"Evasive manoeuvres sir?" the Helmsman asked nervously.

"No." Inside Kolmya cringed with terror, but he could not let it show. An officer had to be an inspiration to his men, and if he were seen to show fear then his crew would worry more. He remembered being under bombardment as a rating as seeing his officers stroll carelessly along the walkways as rounds pinged off the bulkheads and shells crashed into the sea meters from them, totally unconcerned, and believing that if they could ignore the fire, then so could he. Yet this wasn't hostile fire, it was from a battleship of the BMN. Kolmya knew he was betting his ship on a hunch, but to turn back now would be to loose the battle. And Kolmya wouldn't let his navy loose.

"They haven't turned back, sir." A nervous commander informed Tkachyov.

"Very well. Lieutenant!" Tkachyov said gravely. "Execute the Sea Hawk. Prepare to fire."

"Excuse me sir." Chigorin stepped in front of the Admiral, his face totally deadpan. Before Tkachyov could speak, Chigorin punched him in the face. The admiral sunk silently to the ground.

"The record states that Captain Yusuf Chigorin did that."

"Your crazy!" The bridge crewman spluttered before he could stop himself.

"Admiral Tkachyov ordered you to fire on friendly ships, lieutenant. That makes him insane, wouldn't you say?" Chigorin growled, before beginning to issue orders. "Mr Apakidze! Bring us to heading 243. Mr Troshev! Firing solutions on the Behemoth. And hail the Sea Hawk!"

"Sir, the Valliant's weapons are tracking toward the Behemoth sir!" Lieutenant Valmir called out. The crew cheered.

"Put him on loudspeaker please. I want everyone to hear this." Kolmya said warily.

"This is Captain Chigorin, now commanding BMNS Valliant. Tkachyov was unfit to command. Need I continue?"

Kolmya couldn't help but grin despite himself. A wave of relief washed over him. With luck Tkachyov was now overboard and a prudent officer was now in charge. "I hear you Valliant. What are your orders?"

"Take flanking position, Sea Hawk, and prepare to engage submarines."

"Understood Captain. Good hunting."

"Likewise Captain." The transmission ended.

"The Tempest, sir." Kastyalma said, handing Kolmya a headset.

"Lets buy this Chigorin guy a drink eh Alexi?"

"There on me comrade. You take the Valliant's port side."

"Gotcha Hawk. Starboard is yours. Good Hunting!"

"Alright lads, prepare for sub killing!" Kolmya urged the bridge crew. "Lets do what we can here to do." He was certain he felt the Hawk leap forwards a little faster. He was going to need it.

Captain Karelin and his Menved Chaos Crate were dead. And with them Levitzky's left flank went into the air. Most of his Volk units were torn to pieces, and the enemy were still not slacking off. The two sides were clawing furiously at each other, and Levitzky had used a few tricks, but the Guards Armoured were stunned by the brute force driving the OSA tank forces, their animal ferocity and incredible massive force. He had never fought a tank brawl like this. The Blue Moon Army was loosing.

Spewing black smoke, the Endeavour began to list. It had scored three solid hits on the OSN battleship, but the Behemoth had landed all five of its shells. Chunks of the battleship were blown away, the meters thick armoured plating twisted out of shape and whole decks put out of action. A 20-meter hole was blown in her port side. And water began to pour in. The damage control was overwhelmed and the water began to rise. Within three minutes the ship began to list dangerously to port. With a mournful creaking, the BMN Endeavour began to capsize. Blue Moon sailors cried out as they were pitched off the deck into the bay, but the desperate sailor's screams were quickly cut off as the hulking ship rolled on top of them.

"Ready Mister Valmir?" Kolmya asked.

"Yessir." Valmir's voice betrayed the relish he had for finally hunting some subs. He expertly flicked a series of switches and a small monitor lit up as the type 117 tracking radar system began to scan for submarines. In seconds the system had detected hundreds of metal objects and rejected the ones that didn't fit the rough dimensions of an OSN submarine. Valmir quickly narrowed the search down, eliminating a fleeing trawler a wreck and a piece of the section of the Resilient's hull plating. Two radar returns remained. The weapons officer quickly overlaid their position with the remaining ships. He swore under his breath.

"Captain!"

Something broke the surface of the water in the wake of the Valliant as a periscope's eyestalk rose above the waves. Some distance to the port side, a second tube rose up. Both tubes slowly centered their sights on the BMN battleship. Like knifes in the dark, the torpedoes slashed towards their target.

"Captain Chigorin, the is the Sea Hawk."

Chigorin snatched up the receiver.

"Go ahead."

"Two subs. 273 590 and 261 569."

The colour drained from Chigorin's face. He felt like he had been hit in the stomach by a club. Those locations put the submarines behind him, murderously close. He was about to order a hard turn to port, but it was too late. Far too late.

"Captain Kolmya, it was an honour."

The detonation from the 10 torpedoes annihilated the Valliant in a blossoming fireball of smoke, fire and water. Chigorin's mangled body was tossed into the air as the magazine detonated and the Blue Moon Navies last hope was destroyed.

With a hammer blow, an enemy round smashed into the side of Old Ironside. "Left tracks gone sir!" Victor wailed. They'd lost contact with the rest of the second wave a few minutes ago, but the Major hoped that was because a High Explosive round had destroyed the comms set.

"Keep firing lads!" Levitzky yelled as he opened the hatch. A scene of total devastation met his eyes. Burning tanks, mostly Blue Moon machines, littered the area, plumes of smoke rising from their wrecked frames. A Marshall rolled over the corpse of a shattered Volk to Levitzky's left, but a blast from Victor halted it. A Bradshaw closed in from the right, turret tracking for surviving BM vehicles. Fumbling, Levitzky raised the RGL-7 and pulled the trigger. The enemy slewed to a halt in a cough of dirty smoke. A second Bradshaw pulled out from behind its brother. Laughing madly, the Levitzky dropped the RGL and drew his sidearm. The pistol bullets sparked like fairy lights as the impacted around the vehicle's vision slit. The enemy vehicle's turret lined up on Old Ironside's open flank and fired. The round smashed through the MD's armour and exploded in the crew compartment. The men inside the tank were vaporised and the blast tore pieces off Levitzky's uniform as it vented through the open turret. Groggily, he tried to pull himself from the wreckage of his tank, until he realised his left arm had been blown off. He tried to laugh at the macabre situation, but all he could manage was to spit blood. Spewing exhaust fumes, the Bradshaw withdrew. Flames rose up around Levitzky's legs, but he couldn't feel them. Then he looked up and saw death. Although he didn't know it, the Behemoth had fired a full broadside on the last location of the Guards tanks. A unit of OSA mobile artillery had pulled up behind the tanks and added their own firepower to the barrage. As Major Vassily Levitzky's legs collapsed and he fell into the burning pyre of his dead steed, tons of explosives crashed into the ground. He ceased to exist.

A groan rose from the crew of the Sea Hawk as the Valliant died. Kolmya closed his eyes as the horizon was lit up by the monumental blast. As pieces of debris began to rain down, a mournful silence fell upon the seamen of the Hawk.

"Target locked sir." Valmir quietly informed Kolmya.

"Fire mister Valmir." Kolmya said.

Even the screech of the XHK guided torpedoes launching seemed muffled as the weapons sliced into the water. Without looking Kolmya knew that Glasunov was discharging his complement of anti-sub torpedoes at the second OSN boat.

"Target destroyed sir." Valmir reported. Normally the crew would be cheering by now, Kolmya thought. A certified kill was generally greeted by celebration, but the crew barley stirred. He too could not find the energy to praise their excellent work.

"Rally point Zulu please helmsman. Full speed."

Like a thieves in the night, the Tempest and the Sea Hawk turned and slipped away from the Behemoth as it victoriously began to shell the last survivors of the BMA's second wave into oblivion.

As the Behemoth ceased firing, Max's battered tankers rolled through the wrecks of Levitzky's Guards Armoured. As they cleared the area of charred machines, they came upon the two formations of Blue Moon infantry. The senior OSA commanders radioed the predicament back to CO Max. They were tired, low on ammunition and had suffered heavy losses in their fight against the Guards units. They requested fire support, assistance from infantry and battleship. But Max refused. On he said. Roll tanks, roll. Exhausted but without hesitation the Marshals and the Bradshaws roared forwards. The Blue Moon troops panicked. They were inexperienced troops all, poorly armed and tasked only with mopping up the remains of the Orange Star forces. Instead they were faced with victorious tanks rolling out from the smoke. As tank machine guns began to chatter, the troops ran. In minutes, thousands of men were fleeing for their lives, discarding arms and equipment in their desperate efforts to escape the metal monsters. The tankers kept on going, mowing down swathes of BMA troops. Some even expended their ammunition and simply drove on, crushing the men beneath their tracks. When the lead Bradshaws finally broke through, before them lay open field, miles of undefended territory and a gaping hole in the Blue Moon lines. On the seas, the Blue Moon Cadarian Sea fleet had been dealt a huge blow, four of its finest battleships either blown to oblivion or on the seabed. A counter attack to been repulsed and Blue Moon's predicament was grimmer than ever. But Kolmya would go on fighting, as long as he could bring himself to.