Today was the last practice that the Super Conqueror crew would undergo before the lots were drawn for the tournament. To spice things up, Earl Gray took Rosehip with her, leaving Darjeeling and Rukuriri to fend off against them in a classi skirmish. And to make things even more interesting, Earl Gray was using her trusty Cromwell, leaving the FV4005 Stage II in the workshop as its loading mechanism was being tinkered on. And that was where they were now. Sitting in some bushes, waiting to spot the enemy.
The atmosphere inside Rosehip's Crusader was stifling, despite the shade the trees provided. Earl Gray's Cromwell was driving up a nearby hill in an attempt to spot the two heavy tanks on the enemy team. Everything was going well. They'd managed to outrun their opponents and were using their superior stealth to avoid detection, at least for now. The radio crackled.
"Rosehip, Ruki's alone on the other side of the hill. Rush her!"
The Crusader's engine roared, propelling the light tank out of the brush and across the small plain with breakneck speed. And then the Cromwell was alongside her, both of them out of their cupolas, hair flying wild and crazy in the wind, drunk and intoxicated on the thrill of the hunt. The two tanks leapt over the crest of the hill, startling Rukuriri.
"Dammit! Fire! Fire!" Rukuriri screamed down at her gunner. The first 20 pounder shell exiting the barrel of her Caernarvon fell into the ground just short of Rosehip's Crusader, sending a spray of dirt into her face and into her pink hair. Instinctively, she ducked into her cupola, slamming it shut before peering out of the vision blocks. The Crusader was still moving at top speed.
"Fire a shot into the track to immobilize them!" Both commanders barked at their crews. The turret of the Action X swiveled around, hydraulics whining. As she stared down the barrel of the opposing 20 pounder, Rosehip felt time slow down. This was it. The adrenaline, the rush, the thrill of the hunt. She saw all the blades of grass snap into sharp focus, felt the vibrations of her steed underneath her. The acrid stench of gunpowder, exhaust and 105-octane gasoline stung her nostrils. She felt her heartbeat in her neck, heard the blood roaring in her ears. After what felt like an eternity, Rosehip yelled down "STOP!"
The tracks of the Crusader locked up, gouging a deep trench into the soft soil of the Gloriana training field as the tank came to an abrupt halt. Nearly banging her head into the side of the cupola, Rosehip saw that the sudden stop had worked. Rukiriri's shell had missed its mark and hit the ground where the Crusader would have been if it hadn't stopped.
"Go!" A shot rang out from the 6 pounder. The shell flew true and slammed into the left track of the Action X. The flag didn't pop. Our penetration isn't high enough to "penetrate" at that angle, Rosehip thought. Her thought was interrupted by the metallic rattling of the track falling off of the heavy tank, almost immediately followed by a shot from the Cromwell's Vickers High Velocity 75mm which took off the other track.
"Rukuriri, we're immobilized! We can't move!" Her driver yelled up. Sweat beaded up on her forehead as Rukuriri saw the two enemy tanks move to flank her, but she knew what she had to do. "On my mark. One, two, three, MARK!"
"Rosehip, you fire the killing shot. You did well back there." Earl Gray's voice crackled over the Crusader's radio as the two of them raced around the sides of the immobilized heavy. Rosehip's heart soared. Her hero, the one who she idolized the most…...okay, maybe besides Assam…..had acknowledged her Sensha-Do skill!
"I can see why Darjeeling sees potential in y-WATCH OUT!" As Rosehip snapped out of her daydream, her senses slowly coming back online, she heard it before she saw it. The Action X's engine roaring at maximum RPM, black smoke billowing from the exhaust stacks. The turret hydraulics screaming, the 20 pounder keeping pace with her tank. A flash of light. An all too familiar yet terrible sound of a shell hitting the tank. The impact jolted her harshly, in the end cracking her head against the inner ring of the cupola. As she faded away, the last thing she hard was the familiar pop of the white flag…..
"Damn!" Earl Gray slammed the radio receiver against the turret wall, the plastic cracking. Next to her, the Crusader slowed to a stop with a groan, white flag fluttering in the wind. She hoisted herself out of her Cromwell's cupola. The Action X hissed. A spray of black fluid erupted from its turret ring, some ending up on her Cromwell's famous green paint. She touched a finger to it and sniffed. Hydraulic fluid. They must have put everything they had into the turret hydraulics in order to take out Rosy there. She wiped her finger on her famous silk handkerchief, examining how the fabric discolored where the hydraulic fluid had ended up. Well played, Ruki. But was it worth it? The Vickers HV fired again, striking the Action X in the engine. Dutifully, the white flag erupted from its canister.
The Cromwell roared off into the distance.
"Darjeeling, we've been taken out! We managed to get Rosehip before we went down though, boy does it stink in here…."
Darjeeling stirred her tea, expertly prepared by Pekoe in the boiling vessel. On the outside, she was as calm, cool, and collected as ever. On the inside, she was panicking. Being one versus one against Rosehip was fine, but against Earl Gray? Even with the huge gun and armor of the Super Conqueror, she wasn't sure if she could pull it off. Presently the Super Conqueror was parked in a hull down position at the summit of a small hill. They had been too slow to help Ruki, and if they had gone to her after she was taken out, the heavy tank would be a sitting duck in the open.
All they had to do now was wait.
What seemed like hours passed. Suddenly, a ping as a small caliber shell bounced off the well-sloped armor of the Super Conqueror, perking everyone up. There's no way she can penetrate us in this position.
"Assam, please fire a HE shell at that stack of trees over there." Darjeeling ordered, taking another sip of tea. Pekoe retrieved the nearest HE shell from the rack and loaded it into the gun. Assam's purple eyes gazed through the sights of the 12 cm cannon before locating the target in question and sending the shell downrange. The high explosive shell struck the ground between several trees, carving a crater into the earth and felling one particularly large tree.
Then another shell ricocheted off the Super Conqueror, this time from the opposite direction. The heavy tank slowly traversed around to face the other way. Another HE shell was sent downrange with similar results. Darjeeling felt a pain in the small of her back that couldn't be ignored. She emerged from her cupola and looked around, only to see that to her horror the Cromwell was rushing them from behind!
Ruhuna slammed the traverse levers hard against their stops as soon as she heard Darjeeling's command, and the Super Conqueror slowly swung its massive bulk around to face this new threat. Assam fired, but the Cromwell dodged it as easily as a flamenco dancer sidestepping. "Pekoe! It's time!" came Darjeeling's command. Steeling herself, Pekoe began to load shells at a frantic rate. Every time Assam fired, the nimble Cromwell would avoid the shell as easily as if brushing away a web of air. Despite this, the measly penetration values of the Vickers 75mm meant that the Cromwell would have to close to point blank range and aim for the weak lower plate or go for the sides or rear in order to guarantee a kill.
Suddenly, Darjeeling saw the Cromwell move in a matter that was all too familiar to her. The last time she'd seen it was when Miho Nishizumi had successfully taken out her older sister's Tiger in a duel much like this one. The Cromwell raced in from one side, before braking its outside track hard, the inertia carrying the medium tank into a skid which would carry it around to the weak side and rear armor of the Super Conqueror. It was over.
Well, it would have been over.
Pekoe grabbed the nearest shell to her, no longer caring what type it was. Sweat poured from every pore, stinging her eyes. Her muscles were on fire, she couldn't keep this up much longer. The shell entered the breech, and she was already scurrying to grab the next one. Assam took a deep breath, staring out the sights as calmly as she could. Electronic beeps and alarms rang out in the turret all around her alongside the sounds of the crew. Her purple eyes stared, calculating a trajectory as fast as she could and she pulled the trigger. The shell exited the barrel at 1 kilometer per second, which normally would have rendered all Assam's calculations irrelevant as this shell was 300 meters per second slower than a normal armor piercing round. But at this range, it didn't matter.
The high explosive shell hit the ground and detonated, forming a crater ahead of the Cromwell's drift path. With a horrendous crashing of metal, the medium tank fell into the hole formed by the shell sideways on, rolling onto its other side before coming to rest in the hole. Darjeeling heard the Cromwell's fuel cutoff engage and the engine seize up abruptly before the little white flag popped out from its canister. She sighed.
Earl Gray was covered in oil, grease, and hydraulic fluid in her now-sideways commanders seat. Dirt was leaking into the turret through the viewports. The tracks and road wheels were trashed on the right side. The engine was probably wrecked and needed another full rebuild. All the ammo was littered around the interior, thrown from the racks when they'd rolled over. But she was grinning like a Cheshire cat. They were ready for the tournament.
