The trigger, where is it?
“Why aren’t we firing?” shouted the XO.
Xenophon turned around, embarrassed to ask but more concerned with the battle.
“The trigger, Sir?”
“Your head, son. This is a Grandcruiser. You’re controlling a quarter of the heavy weapons on the ship. Select targets with your eyes, fire and control the weapons with the communication node.”
He turned back, feeling stupid for asking. The communication node was only used for oral communication on the frigates, a quicker way for the commander and the officers to stay in contact during the confusion of battle. This level of integration was a feature of all capital ships. The realisation he was now in command of enough firepower to cripple a heavy warship, sent his heart pumping almost uncontrollably.
“Shields are down to thirty percent, minor damage to secondary power systems. Incoming torpedoes,” said one of the senior officers.
Xenophon had no idea who was doing the talking, but he immediately recognised the flashing indicators on the display. A group of five heavy torpedoes were shown in he centre as well as at least two-dozen heavy fighters. He tasked the gun mount with the torpedoes and sent the mental signal to loose off a volley. It was the first time he had seen, let alone fired, this kind of weapon. The name laser was something of a misnomer, as the weapon was only vaguely related to the ancient Terran technology. The turrets fired a sequence of a dozen shots, each following right behind the other in a bright burst of red energy. Each turret fired at a separate target and struck in a matter of just two seconds. The five torpedoes exploded in a brilliant blue crackle of energy and power. Xenophon almost jumped up with excitement from the success, apart from the arrival of a Laconian battleship that filled his entire display.
“What!” he whispered.
Two bright beams came from both sides of his displays. It was the heavy cutters being unleashed. These massive weapons were the most powerful weapons fitted to the Grandcruiser. Each beam connected with the battleship and cut an arc of almost fifty metres through the hull before stopping.
“Gunners, concentrate your fire on the battleships turrets,” said the voice through the communication node.
Xenophon concentrated on the port side of the battleship and zoomed in. Its entire flank appeared to bristle with weapons, and most were already blazing away at the myriad of Alliance ships trying to break out to the beacon and safety.
Here we go.
His first salvo struck multiple turrets, but there was no visible damage. The shield easily deflected the energy. Instead, he targeted one section of the ship where a small battery of missile tubes were located and watched for the timing. It was something he had read about weeks before. The shielding of capital ships was multi-layered with separate generators producing fields at different points on the ship. Gun turrets and antenna could not be completely shielded as the signals or projectiles would be blocked. The shielding systems were designed to flicker to allow signals to move in and out or at the split second a shell or beam weapon fired. He had postulated the idea of programming the weapon systems to automatically fire on turrets as they fired. It wasn’t easy. The timing was an issue, but it might work.
He took careful aim at a single missile tube and counted the gap between shots. It didn’t take long, and he timed it as two seconds between the fifth and sixth missile. As he ran the numbers in his head, another missile launched. It was the first in the sequence. In the blink of his eye the turrets opened fire, each sending a salvo of powerful bolts towards the target. The first arrived too early and once more glanced off the shields. The last two managed to strike in the window of opportunity. A flash of energy erupted around the target, and two turrets and the missile system blasted from the superstructure of the ship.
“Good work, son, you must have hit a launching missile,” said the XO.
Xenophon grinned to himself, and pleased he had achieved something of note. He moved to the next weapon system and counted the weapon launches.
“Gunners, copy the shield skipping routine of our new gunner. We jump in sixty seconds, keep those turrets busy. Each one that is destroyed or fires at us is another ship of ours that can get home,” said the XO.
He looked back to the displays and watched the small number of the Alliance making for the beacon. It was only a short journey, but a necessary one to allow them a safe, direct journey back home. Two cruisers managed to jump, but two more were caught in a devastating crossfire between three Laconian battleships. He winced as he watched the vessels tear apart in a violent series of explosions that wracked the capital ships from bow to stern.
“They’ve adapted already,” called out the XO. “The battleship’s shield phasing has changed to what seems to be a random sequence. Concentrate your fire on incoming missiles, leave the shields to our cutters.”
Xenophon was disappointed by the news. He was convinced he had found a working solution to the superlative protection offered by the layered shielding. As he considered the issue, he concentrated on the scores of torpedoes and missiles racing through the battle. The computer system could quickly identify likely targets for the missiles, and any that were heading for Alliance ships were flagged red.
Let’s take them out,
he thought confidently.
By reducing the power levels of his guns, he was able to fire long bursts of over twenty seconds in one go. Streams of small bolts pours from the barrels and the curtain of energy shredded dozens of the weapons.
“Keep going, almost there!” called the Commander, this time completely bypassing the XO who was evidently busy coordination the fire of the cutters and fighter crews. Xenophon caught him out of the corner of his eye talking to the CAG, the commander of the fighter group on board the Valiant.
“Hold tight, we jump in twenty!” he shouted.
Twenty seconds, come on, we can do it!
thought Xenophon.
It was incredible, but after so little combat, he was now excited at the prospect of an ignominious defeat, providing it meant they lived to fight another day.
I don’t want to die,
he admitted to himself.
Three more warships jumped in and started to blast away at the depleted shields of the Valiant. The difference in sound was vast, as the lasers, plasma and other energy weapons cut and burned their way through the armour and hull of the ship. Shield impacts sent a concussive ring through the ship, whereas the impacts against the ship seemed almost insubstantial. The alarm warnings and alerts through the deck told another story however. Xenophon blasted more missiles and then turned his attention on a small group of four Laconian bombers. These small vessels were difficult to hit but were heavily armed and a serious risk to the small ships out there. He managed to destroy the first and hit the engine of the second before a bellowing tone hammered at his head.
“Cease fire! Five seconds to jump!” called the XO.
Xenophon spotted one final bomber making its way to one of the scores of transports trying to escape. For a second he hesitated, and then sent a single, final burst of laser fire to the target. The stars blurred and then with a flash they were hurtling through space using their FTL engines.
“All stations report in, I need engineering and casualty reports ASAP!” ordered the XO.
Xenophon moved to disarm his weapon system but it didn’t matter, the command staff had already deactivated the capacitors and weapons control from the gunners.
I wonder if the Laconian ships have such a problem with crew and security on their own ships?
he thought.
It was a constant source of both surprise and disappointment to him that although those citizens serving in the Armada had proven themselves many times, they were never given enough responsibility to excel in difficult situations. Each person had a fixed task and limited access to anything else. It was hardly surprising that Alliance ships were so over crewed; they needed far too many people to carry out the smallest of tasks. From what he had heard of the Laconian ships, it was the exact opposite. Rumour had it that they carried less crew, far less. Each member was better trained and expected to be able to carry out any role from navigation or engineering through to targeting and battle tactics. Plus, of course, every single Laconian was an expert fighter with edged weapons and firearms.
He turned around to look up to the rest of the command centre. The Commander and the XO stood in the middle and watched as dozens of reports and messages came in from different parts of the ship.
“Good work, people. Get your systems and crew patched up, we are heading home at maximum speed. Tankers are due to meet us at the first rendezvous point in approximately fifteen hours.”
Xenophon looked back to his own display and brought up a map of this part of the galaxy. It contained limited data, but he knew from memory where most of the main Alliance bases were.
Okay, Fort Plymouth is about two hundred parsecs from Attica, so that would take about fourteen or fifteen jumps to get home. So about two weeks, maybe less depending on how many tankers were available. This is going to be one long trip home.
* * *
Grandcruiser Valiant, Attica Nav Beacon, 11 Days Later
“Action stations, due for arrival in T-Minus five minutes. All crew to your stations. This is not a drill, all crew to your station.”
Xenophon rolled out of his bed and barely managed to avoid crashing off the side and striking the ground. His temporary quarters were inside the forward weapons battery, a cramped location that seemed to be the warmest and most uncomfortable part of the ship. He dropped to the ground and immediately felt the pangs of plantar fascia on the base of his foot. The ligament that ran from under his heel to the front of the foot had started hurting in the last few days. It wasn’t serious and was probably related to the increased physical work helping with the repair and engineering on board the Valiant. But knowing what it was didn’t make him feel any better. He rubbed the foot for a second before the sirens woke him up.
What the hell are you doing messing with your foot at a time like this? Get your backside to your weapon station and fast!
he said to himself, with more than a little embarrassment.
He grabbed his webbing that contained his sidearm, communications handset and various tools. It wasn’t essential, but after what had happened on the station, he never wanted to face trouble without having options on his side. As he moved down the corridor, he noticed many of the other crew were doing much the same. Some carried belts with regulation sidearms thrust inside, and other carried first aid injection packs and drugs on them. One man marched past with what looked like an ancient boarding cutlass hanging from his side.
Weird
, he thought.
Xenophon moved to his station and sat down. The screen was active and the weapons capacitors already charging up. They showed an active level of sixty percent and climbing. He pulled the straps on and started his checks. Then the weird sick feeling arrived, and he knew immediately that this meant they were coming out of lightspeed and must be near their destination.
“This is the Captain. I have received word that all remaining Alliance vessels are in position around Attica Homeworld. We are the last ship of the line to make it here. The Lexington was destroyed during refuelling three hours ago. We are it, people. All that stands between our home and the Laconian fleet. Check your systems and prepare for battle. Good luck.”
Nice speech,
thought Xenophon sarcastically, gazing at the planet as it came into view. The blurred dot grew in size until the ship slowed to what seemed like a halt near to the Attica Nav Beacon. Lights flashed up on his tactical display and showed him the location of friendly and enemy vessels based on configuration and IFF (Identify Friend or Foe) systems. It took only a few seconds for the data to fully register, and the final figures left a sick feeling in his stomach.
The last battle of the war looked like it was going to be one of extermination rather than glory. Xenophon watched his displays and sighed at the sight of so few warships being able to defend the last area of space between the enemy and the Homeworld. With the Alliance fleet annihilated at Aegospotami a week earlier, there were now only seven warships left to defend against an estimated Laconian fleet of nearly four hundred. On his display unit he could see nearly a hundred civilian ships moving into position around the beacon. He recognised at least three long distance passenger liners as well as over a dozen tankers.
This isn’t a fleet. This is going to be a massacre.
His heart was heavy with fear and also disappointment. It was only just over a week since his first glimpse of a battle, and now he was about to participate in the fall of the Alliance.