Interdiction

by HistoricaAdept748

On the world of Trinada II, a Cadian Tank Commander is faced by a dangerous and pragmatic foe, one he is forced to contend with while dealing with a dysfunctional crew and the phantoms of his past. In a brutal war of attrition, he will be forced to fight to keep not only his crew together but also his mind.

Charadon Sector

Yelgos System

Trinada II

Ramelus Hive

Late M41

Tank Commander Lateji was no stranger to Tau. Nor greenskins or heretics. He knew his enemies well, he knew where to aim to knock down a Killa Kan, where to disable a traitor tank, and how to coordinate his men to duel a hammerhead. He knew the blue bastards and their vehicles as well as he knew his. The Biting Groxhound was a rare breed, a Metallica Pattern Rogal Dorn equipped with a single enormous oppressor cannon. It had been his ever since he left his Leman Russ burning on Cadia. His crew hadn't made the journey to the evacuation Lander, a fact that had haunted him throughout the mad dash from his shattered home. He had killed heretic tanks in their dozens. Then he killed orks, then tau. Today was no different from all the other long days of his thirty year career, eyes moving between tracking optics and periscope lenses. Hunting a despicable enemy, hunting in the name of a broken world.

Every advanced system and device on his tank powered off, he and his men relying on only their eyes and basic thermal and infared optics. The tank's enormous engine was quiet, there were no lights on in the crew compartments, they even stilled their breath. This was how Imperial tanks were forced to fight for the past few months, half buried in rubble, acting like ships attempting to evade detection in the void. He had not heard word from his squadron in two days, Victorious Cadia and Hell's Bells were in their own hiding spots overlooking wrecked streets and avenues. Lateji tried not to let his focus stray, but soon the boredom began to gnaw at him. His thoughts strayed to his life, to home, to what he lost. Discipline and nostalgia grappled in his mind, sapping his focus, and almost making him miss the smallest detail on his scopes and screens. Five city blocks away from the building Biting Groxhound was partially embedded into, there was a flash of blue light. Not a weapon discharge, nor a teleportation flare. It was the wash of tau propulsion technology. The almost haunting blue lights spread across the street, its source around the corner of an old hab building. He glimpsed through shattered windows and ruined walls the distinct camouflage of the tau war caste.

Slowly he tapped his gunner, Wrant, who with the slowest nod, acknowledged the silent order. The others, noticing the movement, readied. Their loader, Nathaniel, eased a krak shell slowly out of its holding, straining as he brought it into the loading sled. Using the manual pulley, he raised the dormant autoloader and carefully moved the shell in with one thickly muscled arm. A series of scrapes and clicks made Lateji cringe, but it was an admirable job. Normally the shell would have been preloaded, but Lateji did not trust that the shell would not corrode or be blemished while sitting in the breech. Trinada II had a strange proclivity for storms after all. Slowly the turret began to grind and squeal as it moved to align the gun with the target, they had done what they could to oil the bearings from inside. Still the great motors that span the turret whined from the dust and rock caking its outer shell. The ghostly blue light paused behind its shelter, like a prey animal stopping to taste the air. Sensing a predator nearby. The Biting Groxhound was no predator however, it was a tank, and the rules of nature did not always conform to the creations of man. Adrenaline began to pump through Lateji, sweat prickling his brow. Wrant for a few scant seconds did not move, did not even breathe. Until finally, the Oppressor cannon roared.

Ra'sha was young, inexperienced, but eager. An attitude that had landed him the honorable job of leading his column from the front. It was more than honorable he decided, it was his best assignment since entering the command of his Devilfish. He was transporting a squad of pathfinders as well, the brave soldiers resting in his hold. He eased on the controls of his vehicle, spotting an intersection ahead. Training instincts began to clamor loudly in his head, knowing that if he approached it the wrong way, his tank would be bisected by an imperial missile, or worse, another imperial tank. He had engaged imperial vehicles only once before, and had watched as stubborn metal boxes were ripped apart by precise railgun fire. He also watched as Hammerheads were blown apart by crude shells, the simplicity not diluting the effectiveness of imperial guns. His tank crawled forward, he subtly increased sensor range and watched as nil results returned. Save for the smallest echo of heat, he dismissed it as a small blaze in a burning city. He once again inched forward, enjoying the subtle hum of his engines before they were blown apart.

The Oppressor cannon belted its shell out at incredible speed, the mass of metal hurtling through ruined hab and straight into the Devilfish crawling on the other side. As a result of the massive force exerted by the shell, the hab's delicate balance was upset and the building came crashing down around the tau vehicle. It's occupants were killed instantly by the shells passing, the tank itself pummeled by falling debris, exploded shortly after. The report of the detonation passed through the city streets like rolling thunder. Behind the broken tank were three other devilfish, Their pilots swiftly locating the source of the danger and moving to counter. It was then Lateji made his move.