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 devastating 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
