“Look, we’ve all been there. Do you think it was easy for me to leave everybody behind? My family, friends, even my career? I had prospects in the Alliance Fleet, promotion and decades of service ahead of me. Next thing you know, I’m on the first ship out of there and looking for work, just like those two.”
Tamara looked to Glaucon and Xenophon for a moment. They were both still engrossed in their discussion, but it seemed to be turning into an argument. That, or one of them was just being surprisingly passionate about something as mundane as a sword. She listened for a minute, intrigued by the detail and interest.
“Look, I’ll agree with you that the body shields are indispensible equipment. But you have to agree that the Laconian use of the shielding is much more efficient,” said Xenophon, the implication being they had already discussed this point.
“Yeah, but what about the weight? It’s not just the projector. The generator gear adds over twenty kilograms to the equipment carried. It will slow you down, so why bother with the close quarter weapons?”
Glaucon was watching with a bemused expression on his face. He was certainly bigger and stronger looking than Xenophon, but what he had gained in bulk he lacked in imagination or intellect, at least that was how is seemed to Tamara.
“I don’t understand. Explain again the difference between Laconian and Alliance soldiers,” asked one of the new arrivals.
Glaucon raised an eyebrow at the question. Tamara looked at him and back to Xenophon who seemed to relish the question. It seemed he was made to argue, or perhaps he just liked to hear his own voice, she thought.
“Alliance soldiers had similar armour and weapons to the Laconians. In battle, they would place a number of body shield generators on the ground to provide static defences. This gave them cover from high power weapons, including plasma and pulse rifles. To move, they would have to pack up the gear and take it with them, or leave it behind. This is why Alliance troops often take additional vehicles or engineers to carry and deploy the generators. The side effect is that Alliance troops need substantial support troops and are slow to move. They are powerful in defence but suffer against more mobile or powerful enemies.”
“And the Laconians?” asked the man.
“They train, all of the time. They are physically stronger and fitter than any Terran military. Their heavy infantry carry the shield generators with them, actually on their backs as they fight. They wear the projectors on their arms to create a half shield in front of their bodies. That’s why they can move into close range in battle without sustaining heavy casualties. In their left hand they carry the shield projector, and in the right, they carry the Asgeirr-Carbines.”
A woman, a short, stocky mercenary wearing a dark grey jumpsuit with an odd bandolier running along her shoulder, snorted at his comments.
“You’re telling me the Laconians go into battle carrying their shield generators?” They would collapse in an hour.”
“You obviously haven’t met one before,” said Glaucon.
“He’s right. If you’d met a Laconian warrior, you would see that they train all the time to carry this heavy equipment and not just carry it. They are expected to be able to fight in hand-to-hand combat with their pulse carbine at the same time.”
“But why?” asked the first man. “Surely with modern weapons it is smarter to pick off targets at range. Why bother advancing on them with all this heavy equipment, just to use closer range carbines. Why not rifles?”
Xenophon indicated towards one of the half tables near the window. The group moved towards it and sat down. Tamara watched with interest as Xenophon laid out a number of glasses.
“Okay, this is the Alliance defensive position. It is a fort, defended by a hundred soldiers. They are all armed with standard issue rifles. At points along the perimeter, the shield generator creates an impenetrable wall from which behind they can fight from. The Laconians arrive and advance on their position. They take heavy fire, but their body shields absorb the damage and allow them to close to point-blank range. That is when they move in and attack with their Asgeirr-Carbines. Have you ever seen them?”
Tamara smiled to herself, and she understood the point Xenophon was making. The group fell silent, none of them willing to admit they had never actually seen one of these fabled weapons. She strolled towards them and placed her hands on the table.
“I’ve seen a Asgeirr-Carbine. There was one for sale on the black-market a few months ago. It went for a very high price.”
“Really? What was it like?” asked the woman.
“It fits in the fist and lower arm and combines a razor sharp blade and a cut down pulse carbine. The entire unit is compact and very light. Apparently, the range is poor, but it is very powerful, and the blade can punch through most armour.”
She turned, left them to their discussion and approached Roxana who was still waiting along the glass. She looked out at the ships with her. She had relaxed a little, perhaps partially down to joining in with the conversation, or maybe she had just needed minute or two to think. She looked to the woman.
“I ran away, a long time ago. I fell in with a group of mercs from Arcadia, a rough bunch. But they did show me how to collect bounty on criminals. I worked with them until last month. Since then I’ve been looking for a new home.”
Roxana considered her comment for a second.
“Home? You chose to join a mercenary task force as your new home?”
Tamara shrugged, almost smiling.
“At least this is regular money, somewhere to sleep and food and clothing supplied. I was a few days away from having to offer my services to one of the pleasure barges.”
Roxana shook her head in irritation.
“Why not go back to your parents?”
She laughed in response.
“They don’t care. From when I was little, they sent me away to boarding school. They were never happier than when I was away. I promised I would never go back, not after the last time.”
“What happened?”
Tamara shook her head. It was obviously a topic she would not be discussing, not yet anyway. The two looked back to the window and the arrayed ships. They were now much closer and could see the details and weapons fitted to the Laconian Titan. They were interrupted by the sound of the ship-wide sound system.
“We are approaching the Valediction. Orders from General Clearchus are to bring in all new recruits to one of the assembled Titans for processing and selection. We will be docking with Olympia, the renegade Titan from Arcadia, commanded by Dukas Xenias. He has the largest contingent of warriors in the Armada. In seven minutes please ensure you have all your belongings ready for disembarkation.”
Xenophon said his goodbyes to the rest of the recruits and headed towards Roxana and Tamara, closely followed by Glaucon who was torn between joining them and gazing at the great shape of the Laconian Titan.
“We’re going aboard that thing?” he asked rhetorically.
“Looks that way,” answered Tamara. “What I don’t understand is how they managed to get a Titan in the fleet.”
Xenophon looked through the window before moving back to Tamara.
“A Titan? Haven’t you seen the roster? We have four Titans, including one from Laconia.”
Tamara looked confused.
“What’s the problem?” asked Roxana.
“Well, I was under the impression the Titans were some kind of epic ship, the kind of thing no government would lend for somebody else’s operation. Why are the Laconians giving one up?”
“Good question,” said Xenophon. “Either way, we’d better get ready. You heard what the Arcadians said yesterday about the tests when we get there. Last thing we want is to get stuck with cooking detail.”
The group moved away from the viewing area and along the corridor. It was wide rather than tall and designed to hide much of the internal ribbing and bulkheads. The ship was almost aesthetically pleasing from the inside, apart from the sections used to stow spare equipment and weapons. Like all other vessels heading to the Armada, this one was carrying both people and supplies. They moved into a larger waiting area where a larger group of recruits waited. There was an obvious distinction between the ex-military and those looking to make a quick bit of cash. It wasn’t just the physical size and fitness levels of the professionals, it was also the way they held themselves. Xenophon and his group entered the waiting area and found a place to sit and strap in.