Xenophon was a young midshipman of just twenty-five years of age, and this operation was already making him feel sick. This was his first assignment in the fleet of the Alliance Armada, and his nerves were already frayed. He was hardly one of the gruff infantrymen that swaggered through the ship, and each waiting for their chance to engage the enemy in some close ranged brawl. Xenophon was lean, almost slender in build. His fair skin was in stark contrast with the sunburned faces of the more seasoned crew who had fought on land, and in space, during their many years of service in the war. He spotted the nearest midshipman, a red faced man called Maxentius. He was sat waiting with his system ready and his guns online. Xenophon was captivated by the calm on the gundeck until he realised his was the only station not yet ready. He brought up the targeting matrix and focused on the Laconian cruiser that sat ninety kilometres away. The display showed the power levels rising in the gun battery’s power cells.
The communication node whispered to him, and once more distracted him from his work.
“Damned thing,” he muttered.
“Gunners, hold your fire.”
He checked the enemy ship again. It looked similar to their destroyers. The greatest different, as far as he could tell, was one of aesthetics. Whereas the Alliance ships were smooth and almost pretty to look at, the Laconian League ships were rough and angular, almost suggesting they were unfinished. They operated far fewer ships, but what they lacked in numbers, they made up for in ferocity. The Laconians might not be a great space faring colony, but they had won several devastating land battles, and their fleet had so far eluded the more experienced Alliance ships. Even more important was that the Laconians had sacrificed speed and living space for more weapons and armour. In a one on one fight they had the advantage unless the Alliance captains made use of their speed and longer ranged guns.
“Sir, guns are ready, power levels are correct and the targeting matrix is active,” said Private Loraine, a stern looking young woman in her early twenties.
Xenophon had tried to make friends with her and the other enlisted men and women in the crew. For some reason, he had never been able to break the ice. There was something about him they had issues with, and he wished he knew what it was. Private Loraine, for example, gave the impression she hated him and had done so from the first moment they met.
“Good, chain them for linked fire. We won’t have long to hit them. It is a small window of opportunity.”
The guns could be fired individually or in groups, one of the many benefits of this kind of energy weapon. No ships in the Alliance Fleet were allowed to make use of computer control systems for anything other than communications and navigation. All engineering and weapons control was under the strict control of its human operators. It seemed archaic, and even a little stupid, to require so many people to operate vessels in space. But as powerful as computers were, they were also vulnerable to all kinds of hacking. The reliance upon these professionals made the Alliance ships more powerful and flexible than the ships in any of the known empires in the Galaxy, but also far less numerous.
“Jammers are active,” said the Captain, his voice calm and collected through the communication node. Xenophon could almost make out his actual voice over the noise on the command centre, but it was easier to just listen to the electronic voice in the node.
The Alliance ships, like probably every military ship in existence, were packed with advanced and powerful electronic jamming and countermeasures equipment. Jamming weapons lock and communication systems was critical to combat in space, unless you wanted your ship destroyed thousands of kilometres away from the enemy. Xenophon had learnt on his first day of training that a computer system could lock onto and track a vessel thousands of kilometres away, and hit it with torpedoes or even solid fuel missiles. Through simple use of electronic counter measures (ECM), the enemy could be forced to use their weapons on manual operation. This made them slower and reduced their effective range when done correctly. He thought back to the class where had had tried to hit a simulated Empire frigate. The vessel had been fast, too fast. The computer could hit it, but as soon as the jamming started, he had to take over. No matter how carefully he led the target, it was just too hard to hit the small ship. He just hoped that when the time came to target and fire the plasma cannons, he would strike his target in a quick and efficient manner.
“Xenophon, you ready for this?” called out his friend and now commanding officer, Second Lieutenant Roxana Devereux. The confidant women stood tall. Her thick auburn hair and grey eyes betrayed wisdom after relatively little time in the military. She was almost the same height and build as Xenophon himself and that was no doubt part of her ability to sway the weaker minded in the crew.
Ready for this, are you kidding? I should be back at home and studying like the rest of the citizens my age, he thought angrily.
“Ready, Sir,” he answered as confidently as he could manage.
She spotted him looking about nervously and frowned at his discomfort. She was a tall, confident woman and had been his friend back when they both studied under the philosophical master, Kratez. He had tried on multiple occasions to get her interest, but she seemed completely unaffected by his advances; no matter how persistent he had been.
He watched her, but all he could think was how much she seemed to be enjoying her position on the ship. Unlike Xenophon, she had volunteered five years ago and already proven herself in three battles against the enemy. While she was busy fighting the enemies of the Alliance, he had continued his studies. For her performance at the battle of Arginusae, she had been promoted on the spot to that of Second Lieutenant. By all accounts, it had been a truly momentous victory, sullied by the loss of a number of famous captains who had vanished in the final hours of battle. She walked towards him and smiled, a grim expression on her face.
Come on, try and look at least half confident.
It was her job to monitor and command the starboard gundeck, an important responsibility, and one that could win or lose a deadly battle in space.
“Xenophon, watch your station. The enemy ships are preparing for battle, just like us.”
And again I crash and burn, he thought, once more.
“Aye, Sir,” he replied nervously and turned back to his tactical screen. The curved unit gave him a one hundred and eighty degree view of the space around his ship, and if he concentrated, it was as though he was actually outside and floating in space. Small coloured boxes flashed around the target, each giving him the status of the enemy’s shields, weapons and armour. It was just like when he had practiced on the simulators. The single difference being that he knew his life actually depended on his and others’ competency.
His mind drifted for a moment as the sight of Roxana reminded him of his last night back home. Xenophon and his friends from the capital had been drinking and ended up getting involved in a scuffle with some of the democrats. It was people like them that had voted year on year for the war to continue. None of his friends, with the exception of Roxana Devereux, had volunteered for the war. But after nearly twenty-seven years of war, it seemed the voting public wanted it to end. He had been conscripted to join the last Armada. This fleet was a collection of every remaining ship controlled by Attica and her allies with one simple mission, to find and destroy the primary Laconian fleet, and end the war once and for all. His thoughts were interrupted by an unfamiliar sound. It was the communication node again.
“This is Captain Agrippa. Enemy scouts are approaching our position. We are detecting at least six, possibly more, on an approach vector. Gun crews, check your weapons and open all gun ports. Locks have been removed.”
The locks are off. I can target and fire the guns whenever I want! The moment of worry and fear were gone, even if just for a few seconds. The feeling of power when given control of these weapons was not unlike the feeling he had when stood on a cliff edge or on top of a tall building. That brief moment when he knew he could easily fall or do something with devas
tating results.
Hey, come on. Get ready, he told himself, angry at becoming caught up in the moment instead of concentrating on what he should be doing. He looked at the multitude of screens and systems around him and went through a mental checklist.
Gun hatches open.
The response was instantaneous. The thought process from the implanted node gave him full control over all systems other than primary fire control. From the video feed on his curved display, he could see the multitude of other ports opening up. The ports were grouped together into batteries of two guns, each pair controlled by a man or woman just like him. As the ports opened, the barrels of the powerful 60mm plasma cannons pushed out so that the last metre protruded from the ship. These weapons were the standard armament of small warships, and also used as secondary weapons on capital ships. They were rapid firing weapons that hurled magnetically sealed bolts of plasma into space. The velocity of the projectile was higher than conventional kinetic weapons, but they were short ranged because the seal would break down after just a few hundred kilometres.
This is more like it. He started to smile, his confidence returning.
“This is the Captain. The enemy formation is shadowing us. I suspect they are scouting for their own fleet. Wait for the order.”
Here it comes.
Xenophon nodded to himself, double-checking his control system and the status of his gun battery. So far it was all looking good. The next ship in formation did the same, and he watched his screen in awe as the three batteries on the port side of the ship opened up to reveal the teeth of the scout ship. It might be a small ship, but for Xenophon, it was his first exposure to warships in an actual combat operation. He had seen the guns firing during training and was convinced nothing could withstand the power of the 60mm plasma shells. The last demonstration he had seen was incredible. The plasma shell had smashed into the simulated hull and vaporised nearly half the ship it hit. He became almost impatient to see what damage he could inflict with his own pair of plasma cannons. With eighteen of these plasma cannons in total, the ship was adequately equipped to deal with small scouts and survey ships. Though the class was considered the lowest class of vessel capable of fighting in deep space, it was poorly equipped to deal with a full size warship.
Xenophon glanced back to the command centre and watched the XO move to the Captain to speak about something. Although it was a matter of metres away, the command crew looked as if they were in a different world to him. Whereas they knew what was happening overall, Xenophon was only given as much information as he needed to do his job.
Come on, what’s happening? Tell us something.
There was nothing on his system that told him anything about the tactical situation or even the intent of the enemy. It didn’t seem to bother the rest of crew in this part of the ship, but it served as a constant source of irritation to Xenophon.
“Watch your screen. There are reports of a rogue fighter squadron in this sector,” said the XO loudly, choosing to ignore the communication nodes. His voice made Xenophon jump. He looked up towards the raised platform used by Second Lieutenant Roxana Devereux. Her viewscreen gave her a full display of the area of space around the ship, and she was seated at the periphery of the command deck itself. She had a perfect view of the rest of the gun crew, as well as the systems used to control the plasma cannons. Her job was to carry out the orders of the tactical officer who resided on the bridge along with the rest of the command crew. The gundeck was an important part of the ship, but there were also the more powerful anti-ship torpedoes. These devastating weapons were controlled by the tactical officer and resided in the armoured housing near the front of the ship. Xenophon had tried to be posted to the more prestigious gun crew in the bow, but so far he had been unable to leave his current position on the flank. It was of little importance to most people, but Xenophon wasn’t used to being so insignificant. With his knowledge, skills and family connection, he was still convinced he should have his own ship. The main lights switched to red, and an emergency tone flashed through the gundeck and the rest of the command centre.
Looks like trouble, about time though. Let’s get this over with.
A dull rumble shook the ship as it powered up its engines. The gravitic generators did their job well and maintained a standard one gee of gravity throughout the vessel. It was not critical to provide this on board a ship, but it did offer many benefits, the most significant the wellbeing of the crew. Bone development issues and muscle deformity had all caused problems for long-term travel and operations. Gravitic generators required larger ships, but it meant they could stay out for much longer duration operations.
Xenophon looked up to Lieutenant Roxana Devereux.
“We’re moving into range. Gunners, lock your weapons on the highlighted vessel. Target her engines and communications array. Wait for my command.”
Xenophon nodded and checked his screen. The nearest Laconian vessel was turning from them, and its engines glowed brightly. He used the two control sticks to track the vessel. The gunnery computer calculated the current course and projected position to help with him leading the target. Xenophon treated the system like a helpful friend that assisted him with his combat duties.
“All locked in, Lieutenant,” he replied smartly.
She continued looking at her screen, presumably watching the rest of the enemy formation and waiting for orders from the Captain. The emergency alarm quietened down and finally switched off, but the battle lighting stayed red. Xenophon noticed the Captain say something to the crew in the command centre, and she almost immediately turned to Xenophon and the rest of her gundeck.
“They are powering up their FTL engines, open fire!” she called out.
Xenophon exhaled in excitement and pulled the triggers. The vibrations from the magnetic launch tubes could be felt even this far from the power generators. He watched the burst of whitish-blue energy as it blasted from the twin guns and hurtled towards the enemy. Streaks of similar fire erupted from the other guns, all at the same target. With just a thought, the optical unit zoomed in closer to the target so that it filled his view. The first bursts of fire arrived, of which only four rounds actually hit home. He almost jumped up for joy as one of his projectiles struck eight metres from the port engine nacelle. A blue flash indicated a powerful hit from the weapon, and he smiled with pride as a section of at least fifteen metres tore away from the ship.
“Keep firing!” called out Lieutenant Devereux.
Xenophon pulled the triggers and fired another series of paired blasts. The rest of the gunners did the same, each of them pulverising the enemy vessel. Flashes of plasma lit up the hull until a mighty coloured pulse tore the craft apart. A cheer rang out through the ship, and Xenophon felt a surge of excitement in his blood.
“It’s a decoy vessel. All crews, charge your guns, it’s a trick!” shouted the Captain. His voice ran throughout the command centre and gundecks. The calm voice of Lieutenant Devereux spoke into his communication node.
“Gunners, recharge from the capacitors. Check for enemy vessels.”
Xenophon ignored the commotion on the command deck and did as he had been ordered. With his wide arc of fire, he could check his area of space. The other gunners did the same, and each checked their segment of space for an elusive ship that might have blocked their sensors. It was strange that so many hundreds of years after the development of direct energy weapons and reliable FTL technology, the crew were still forced to rely on using their eyes. As he looked for the enemy, he tried to understand why the Captain might think the enemy ship, now smashed to a hundred pieces, might be a decoy. Perhaps there were no life signs, or there was something it transmitted. The more he thought about it, the more he desperately wanted to know. Being stuck in a single role, without access to all the information around him, was proving to be stifling.
Then he spotted it. At first it was just a flicker of the stars, much like looking at astronomical objects from his home. The atmosphere
of the planet between him and space would cause the stars to flicker and change in the more subtle of ways.
What is it? It has to be them, it must be. He was wary of speaking out in case it was a false alarm. He couldn’t keep it quiet any longer though.
“Lieutenant, I think I’ve got something!” he called out.
Lieutenant Devereux connected to his computer system and looked down at the object Xenophon was looking at.
“Where is it?” she asked, a hint of desperation in her voice.
Please be something. He worried that he was wasting the crew’s time but also wanted to impress her.
Xenophon drew a mental box around the anomaly that was immediately added to her own computer display. It was a faster way of communicating than simply trying to point it out on a display, or even worse, attempting to explain with words.
“Good work,” she said and actually smiled at him.
Yes! Something right, for a change, he thought happily.
“Sir, something is out there,” she said, her tone of voice less convinced than Xenophon would have liked. As if to answer her, the Tactical Officer spoke quickly.
“Jump signature, something is coming in!”
Xenophon rechecked his display and spotted more shapes rush past their position. The blurred shapes took form as an enemy formation shut down its FTL engines. There was always a brief moment between the engines being deactivated and the ship approaching normal speed, where the subject would be blurred and indistinct. It lasted the briefest of times but could give those waiting an advantage, if only for a moment. At first, he couldn’t make out the shape, but then he recognised the silhouette from his training back at the fleet headquarters.
Black Legion: Gates of Cilicia Page 4
