"Funny!" muttered Glaucon and he rushed forward. Sensing an opportunity, Xenophon ducked low and lifted his buckler up to protect his head. He stabbed forward and directly into the centre of his opponent's body mass. Glaucon smashed his blade down hard but was deflected by his buckler. The blade struck him just below the sternum and knocked him back almost a meter before he was able to stand upright. If it had been a sharp sword, it would have penetrated through his body and pushed out of his back.

The crowd cheered their approval, and Kratez stepped forward to intercede. The old man may have been too frail to engage in the same kind of activity, but he knew full well when a fight was about to move from a friendly exchange to something more serious.

"Screw this, let's get the real blades out," said Glaucon loudly. He dropped the weapons on the floor and marched to the case. He reached inside the blackness and pulled out two large metal longswords. The great two-handed swords were a weapon of brutality and skill. Weighing double the weight of the swords they had been using, it was carefully balanced to make it suitable for cutting and thrusting. Contrary to what most people thought, they were wickedly fast and capable of causing serious injuries from both cut and blunt force trauma. The sharp cutting demonstrations they had made were useful evidence for the deadly weapons and their use on the battlefield.

"Come on, that's enough," said Xenophon, as he did his best to discourage his friend.

"No, you wanted to fight. Let's show them what we can do."

He threw the blade to Xenophon and then chased after it, barely giving him a chance to prepare himself. They clashed metal blades together as both cut down from the right. The ding of metal caught the audience by surprise, as it was very unusual to see primitive metal weapons being used in this way. Glaucon lifted his hands and hilt upwards and drove underneath to knee Xenophon in the stomach. The blow was hard and sent him staggering back.

Is he mad? These are just bated blades, and we're not wearing armor!

Glaucon jumped forward and brought his blade down in a powerful vertical cut. Xenophon, still stunned by the strike to his stomach, was barely able to lift his sword in time and took part of the impact into his shoulder blade. His knees buckled, and he dropped to the floor.

"Enough!" shouted Kratez. Glaucon maneuvered for another cut, and it took three of the spectators to grab him before he realized how wild he was becoming. He stopped and dropped the blade to the floor, stepping to the fallen Xenophon.

"Sorry, buddy, I think I got a bit carried away there."

Xenophon coughed and lifted up to one knee.

"You're not kidding," he said, doing his best to laugh, but the pain in his shoulder was spreading to his chest. Glaucon reached over and helped the young man to his feet. He lifted his hand up high in the air and lifted Xenophon's as well. The audience roared in approval, and Xenophon wondered through the dripping sweat if it was the bloodlust of watching the fight, or genuine interest that drove them. He suspected the former.

"The result, they're announcing it now!" called out one of the women towards the rear of the group.

"Everybody quiet, put it up on the displays!" cried Kratez.

Part of the wall flashed with light, before displaying a wide, panoramic view of the Presidential Palace. The building was the most important political structure in the Alliance, and from where supreme authority in both Attica and the entire Empire was controlled. The President herself stepped into view, a powerful woman in her late fifties. She had been a Captain in the early years of the war and won the votes of many of the military community that had served over the years. In the Alliance democracy, however, her role was limited. The real power lay in the permanent members of the Boule; the veterans who presided over official business and decided what would be discussed and what vote would take place. The President was a mere figurehead who represented the Alliance and made long and boring speeches. At least, that was Xenophon's assessment.

"My fellow citizens. Today is a grave day indeed. As you know, we have been involved with border skirmishes and open battle with the Laconian League for nearly thirty years. Today a vote was cast by every single citizen member of the Alliance to make a decision, possibly the most important one of the century. Until now, our forces have assisted our allied worlds against the oppressive actions of the League. So far, we have avoided a direct confrontation with the Laconians themselves. With the mobilization of their entire military they have struck our friends, and they have been powerless to hold them back. It is one thing to provide military assistance, and quite another to put the lives of the men and women of the Alliance in harm's way."

Glaucon pulled Xenophon close to him.

"I told you, the people want it."

The people are idiots. If we did what they wanted, we'd all be poor and sitting around wondering what went wrong, he said to himself.

"The complete results from all voting stations through Alliance territory are in. I therefore announce the vote is unanimous, and with seventy-two percent voting in favor of the proposal. It is with a heavy heart that I announce the intention for a general call-up by lottery of those of service age, to serve for as long as is necessary to end this war once and for all. As you will all understand, this mass mobilization is for a single reason. The Armada will assemble and be used directly against the Laconian League. As of five minutes ago, we are at war with the League, and may the Gods save us all."

Xenophon shook his head at the news. Deep down he knew the public would vote for it, but it still hurt. As a young boy, he had visited with a number of the key Laconian families and had found more similarities than differences in their outlook on life. Just because they refused the so-called enlightened views of the Alliance, they were considered backward primitives.

War with the Laconians? They should be our allies, not our enemies. The fools! Look what they've done, he muttered inwardly.

Glaucon and most of the other young people stood up. Some shouted, but most simply cheered. Kratez also stood, but he neither said nor did anything. He had that look Xenophon was so familiar with. The one he reserved for when a particularly taxing problem appeared. Xenophon moved over to him, still only half dressed from the fighting display.

"You're not cheering, either?" he asked.

"Of course not. War has a sweet taste to the young, but as you gain in age and wisdom, it turns bitter. I fought in the border skirmishes with the Laconians. They are born to fight, and no sacrifice is too great for them."

Xenophon nodded in agreement.

"You think this is a mistake?"

"To go to war with the Laconians? Of course, and how far are we prepared to go? Will we keep fighting when half of the boys and girls sent to fight are dead or badly hurt? The one thing we know about the Laconians is they will not give ground. The harder we press them, the harder they will fight. In all my years, I know of only one occasion where the Laconians surrendered. The potential loss of just three hundred of their warriors was enough for them to come to the table. They may not have many citizens, not like the hordes that we have. The real difference is that one of theirs is worth a hundred Alliance citizens."

Glaucon stood up on one of the tables. He held one of the many glasses of wine up high and whistled loudly. He found it difficult to balance, and it took three people grabbing at him to keep him stable.

"Everyone! Today is a momentous day. It is the day we finally climbed off our collective ass and made the decision to wipe out the Laconians, once and for all. They have pushed us at every opportunity, and now they will see what the might of our Armada can do. A toast!"

He lifted his glass up high, and the rest of the audience did the same.

"The Alliance!" he shouted and threw back his glass. The rest of the assembled friends and strangers alike lifted their own glasses.

"The Alliance!" called out the rest as they joined in with his sentiments. Xenophon watched them all with a feeling of despair and dismay.

What are the odds I get called up to fight in this idiotic war? He thought.

CHAPTER TWO.

Gamma Squadron, Aegospotami Nebulae.

Xenophon gazed through his virtual windows and out into space. His plan hadn't worked out as expected. Instead of staying at home, he'd been forced to join the Alliance Navy. That was six months ago, and he was now on his first military posting. Six months had seemed like years, but he still felt far from ready to take part in the campaign against the Laconians. For a brief moment, he forgot he was looking at an electrostatic polymer display rather than the reinforced glass it emulated. The centimeter-thick unit was part of nearly thirty similar units installed through the gun decks and command centre. It gave the impression the ship was thin skinned and surrounded by glass. A shape like that of a glistening diamond, and the object gave off flickers of light of many colors. He looked at it carefully, and the display quickly altered the camera's level of magnification, detecting his gaze and interest.

Just more stars. Where are they? They are out there somewhere, he wondered.

They had been out in this part of space for almost an hour now, and the adrenalin pumping through his body was starting to make him feel sick. There were so many dots and smudges of light out there, and any one of them could be a ship with its own gunners watching down their own barrels. The thought sent a shudder through his body. The ship's sensor package was working at full capacity, but there was only so much space it could monitor. That didn't preclude the enemy from simply jamming the sensors themselves.

He looked at the configuration panel to his right and considered running another optimization subroutine. The plasma charging system was running at over ninety eight percent, and far more than was required to work well in combat.

Screw it, ninety-eight will do, he thought, but looked about to see what the rest of the gunners were doing. They appeared to be checking their systems, but they could equally have just been sitting, waiting as he was. He sighed.

Something happen, anything!

The small flotilla of six Hydra class Alliance destroyers moved from their defensive positions outside of the Aegospotami Nebulae. They were only twenty parsecs from their operating base, but it felt as though they were ten times that distance away. It was an easy trip of two jumps to get back, assuming resupply drones were waiting at the supply point.

We could do it in one jump though, he reminded himself.

The safe maximum jump distance was supposed to be limited to fifteen parsecs, but the emergency reserves could be used to boost the trip to twenty. The thought of being left stranded in space was a terrifying thought. As one of the many patrols looking for the Laconian fleet, they needed to travel far from their base to hunt for any signs of the dreaded flotilla. The Alliance ships were small, fast and lightly armored, but they could do little against a main warship. Their orders were simple; record the enemy disposition and course, then return to the designation jump co-ordinates and transmit the data back to fleet command at their base.

Can we make it out of here if they turn up? The fear of a major warship started to grow in his thoughts. I need to check the guns. It was his job, and returning to it might take his mind off the waiting.

There were rumors of a small battlegroup that was hunting scouts and escorts. The Captain had tried to quell the comments, but Xenophon couldn't be the only one keeping an eye on the casualty reports.

Come on. Show yourselves.

They had left their outpost, Fort Plymouth, a place of warmth and security. As one of the small number of Olympus class outposts, it was one of the most important parts of the Alliance military and both a major asset and target. As powerful as a capital ship, and the home to thousands of personnel, it was the heart of the war effort. Through careful planning and engineering, the base had been well hidden in the Nebulae and was ideally placed to provide food and supplies for ships that were so far from home. It needed to be, as they were so many jumps from home. It would take months to make the return voyage, and without a base they would be forced to abandon this sector to the enemy. The outpost itself carried over a thousand people as well as the all-important FTL beacon. Using this device, a ship could make a jump of almost ten light-years in a single trip. As the ships had moved away, Xenophon had spent almost twenty minutes looking at the fleet stationed in the sector, hundreds of ships, and all waiting for news on the enemy fleet. But it wasn't these vessels that interested him. No, it was the six Titans. These were the largest and most powerful ships he had ever seen, and the largest warships built by humanity. At almost twelve hundred meters long, these behemoths carried enough people and weapons to bring entire planets to their knees. Although only one had actually been constructed at the homeworld, the rest were from the scores of Alliance worlds. Each was held by a close bond to the mother city, as well as the fear of the Armada, a military force they were forced to contribute towards. The ships might not all originate from one place, but they were all crewed by loyal members of the Alliance.

Here we go again.

A low rumble came from the bowels of the ship. It was the main thrusters powering down. They were less violent than the FTL engines but still sent a shudder through the small ship. They shut down, leaving the ship to coast through space until they reached the designated location. With no other ships in the area, the small group of frigates pushed out on a wide search vector. Each of the ships left a small multi-colored wake in the cloud of gas and dust. They were spaced out at one hundred kilometers apart; a gap that was a mere hair's breadth in space. At a length of one hundred and fifty meters, and with a crew of one hundred and ninety five, the vessels were the smallest self-sufficient ships in the Alliance Armada. The destroyers had the look of large predatory fish from Ancient Earth, with large frontal sections and long tails that carried a multitude of antenna and sensors. The lead ship in the formation carried three white stripes that ran down the sides in a regular pattern. The rest carried their simple dull red blue finish as used on the rest of the fleet.

"This is the Captain. We have just received word from our sentry drones. A force of Laconian ships has been detected in quadrant alpha twelve. Check your systems, we jump in thirty seconds."

Thirty seconds and enemy ships detected. Is this it?

Xenophon gulped at the realization he was finally going into action. His mouth dried at the mere thought of the dreaded Laconian fleet. His training kicked in, and he ran his eyes along the lines of data, checking the power levels, plasma generators and targeting grid.

As the craft moved from the protection of the vast Armada, each one flashed and then vanished. The faster than light (FTL) engines of each frigate propelled them away at unimaginable speed to their patrol area. Inside the ship, Xenophon did his best to not retch. No other members of the vessel seemed to be adversely affected by the journey. He was certainly the most recent addition to the crew, but even so he would have expected other members to experience at least mild discomfort during the trip.

"Three minutes until arrival, charging up primary weapon generators. All stations report in," said the Captain.

Xenophon scanned from left to right, looking at scores of numbers and diagrams that showed him everything from the temperature of the barrels to the heart rates of his two assistants.

"Everything looks good," he said, partially to confirm, but also to reassure him that he had made no mistakes. The trigger locks were still active and could only be withdrawn by the tactical officer or commander of the gun deck.

"News coming in from Headquarters, a Strike force has been tracked by our primary fleet, and they are in pursuit. Arrival in sixty seconds," said the Captain.

Xenophon's pulse was now pounding. He could see his own life signs on the monitor suite next to him. The increase in heart rate simply made him more anxious. One alert message popped up. There was a slight anomaly in the targeting system. It wasn't serious, but it did throw him into a minor panic. The change in pressure inside the ship hit inside his skull, and the feeling of sickness quickly returned.

We must be there, he thought.

"Battlestations!" called out the Captain through the embedded communication nodes fitted to every crewman. The small device was fitted behind the ear and several millimeters under the skin. Xenophon reached out and touched the spot where it had been inserted. The doctors said he wouldn't feel its presence, but he felt it anyway. The ship FTL engine cut out, and his view of the stars shifted from streaks to a still, almost beautiful starscape.

"Enemy ships detected at mark three point five. Ready the guns. It's a scouting party."

Xenophon looked around to the rest of the gun deck and then up to the command centre. Dozens of crew moved about, and each carried out their duties as quickly as they could. He had two of the crew under his control, and they worked furiously to carry out their work of preparing the individual guns, monitoring their power levels and anything else needed to get the ship ready for battle. There were two other gun deck sections, and just like this one, they were arrayed in a crescent shape around the command centre of the ship. It meant the Captain, command crew and the gunners, were all in sight of each other. Each gun deck, and its weapons, had an arc of fire that covered a full third of the ship. His particular gun deck on the starboard side was tiny compared to the similar parts of the much larger capital ships. He imagined himself commanding a gun crew on one of the Titans stationed around the supply base. That was just a dream though.

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, 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 gun deck until he realized his was the only station not yet ready. He brought up the targeting matrix and focused on the Laconian cruiser that sat ninety kilometers 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 difference, 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 armor. 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 were under the strict control of their 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 kilometers 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 kilometers 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 they 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 confident 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 the position 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 with 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 gun deck, 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 colored boxes flashed around the target, each giving him the status of the enemy's shields, weapons and armor. 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 meter 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 kilometers.

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 vaporized 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 meters 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.