A small group of the blue team appeared from the left as the survivors of the tower, led by Roxana, emerged from their cover. They were covered in dust, but the look of satisfaction showed they had won a good victory.
“Excellent work. You will be pleased to note that all of you have passed and are deemed of satisfactory standard to serve with our ad-hoc combat units. Most of you have shown you have the gumption to serve with our heavy infantry, please join the Komes here. He will give you your postings and information on your service aboard the Olympia.”
The recruits started to move but were halted by the commander.
“I want each of you to stay, please,” he said pointing at Xenophon, Roxana, Tamara and Jack. He then pointed to the prone shape of Glaucon on the ground.
“Him as well. Give him a hand up.”
Rexor glanced at them and nodded as he left. He didn’t seem particularly disheartened to be leaving. He was presumably off to join the others with the heavy infantry. Xenophon watched him walk away and wondered what that would mean for him. The commander waited until most of the others had left before inviting them over to meet an officer. This man looked even dourer than the rest of the Arcadian soldiers they had met.
“This is Komes Pasion, leader of my scout force. I think you would be ideally suited to serving with him.”
He turned and moved back to the platform without even waiting to see what they had to say. The Komes looked serious, with not even a hint of humour or compassion about him.
“My force is a picked unit of three hundred fighters, but we are down on numbers. We travel light and are expected to conduct all manner of missions from recon through to raiding and assault. You need to be able to fight with rifles, carbines and close quarter weapons. You’ve shown initiative, independence and improvisation. These are the three key criteria for being in my unit. Return to the changing area and collect your belongings. You will get your orders from the Dekarchos, he already has your information.”
He paused and then smiled, or at least that was what it looked like to Xenophon. It could equally have been a grimace.
“Welcome to the Night Blades.”
The small group looked at each other in surprise. The officer walked away to leave them in the middle of the training arena.
“Night Blades? Is that a good thing?” asked Jack.
Roxana nodded while Xenophon tried to support the dead weight of Glaucon. He looked unconscious, but Roxana seemed unconcerned at his state.
“Well, we will earn more credits, but there is a greater risk. They are the elite unit on this ship, so we’ve struck gold here,” she said with a very surprised look.
CHAPTER TEN
Scout Ship Odysseus, Cilician Gates
Kentarchos Anaxandros watched the distortion with interest. The Cilician Gates were one of the most famous parts of space, and he never tired of watching the strange optical effects in this region. This particular triple star system was one of the richest and most densely populated planetary formations known to mankind. With over thirty planets, it was the perfect supply, engineering and construction site for hundreds of light years. As kentarchos of his vessel, it was his job to keep the Armada notified of local traffic, celestial phenomena and any other issues that might arise prior to their arrival. It wasn’t the first warship he had commanded, but it was his first operation as a mercenary officer. His new rank of kentarchos was an odd one. In his home, in the Arcadian military, he had been a captain with a well-proven track record. Since forced retirement, he had hit hard times. The opportunity to spend time earning substantial rewards with the mercenaries, under Clearchus, was an offer he could not refuse. That still did not help him getting his head around the use of the archaic ranks used by the Laconians.
The Laconians, he thought, nodding his head in agreement with himself. At least with them in charge, we might actually have a chance of coming back alive.
It might be a pan-terran operation, but it was clear who was running the show. His thoughts were interrupted by a loud voice.
“Sir, engineering are experiencing an issue with the secondary propulsion controller. They want to take it off-line for assessment,” said Ka’Veras, the ship’s kybernetes, or executive officer.
“How serious is it?” asked Anaxandros.
The kybernetes moved his hands in front of his display as he made direct contact with the relevant crew. A number of figures appeared, and he moved quickly between them as he disseminated the information. It wasn’t a large vessel, no bigger than a Laconian frigate; the ship was small and lightly armoured. It still packed quite a punch with its array of plasma cannons. These weapons were more than capable of destroying civilian ships five times her size and even giving some military ships something to worry about. She was ninety-two metres long, capable of faster-than-light travel and carried a complement of one hundred and nine crew.
“Sir, not critical, but there is a low probability of an injector failure if we are forced to use all drive units.”
Kentarchos Anaxandros scratched his chin as he considered the options. The ship was equipped with three main propulsion units, all powered from the main core. The Primary engines were the FTL drive, and it was what allowed the vessel to jump great distances in the blink of an eye. The secondary engines were much like those used in conventional rockets and ships to change orbit and make low speed manoeuvres. These engines were critical for movement in battle or docking at stations. The final, emergency system was the gas projection system. Archaic by all standards, it was only ever used as an emergency if the secondary engines failed. The gas system could only be used to alter direction or make fine adjustments, and the ship couldn’t do much else with it.
What if I take the engines off-line and enemy ships jump in? Our only option would be to jump out of here.
“What about the FTL drive, will it be affected?” he asked.
“Either way the FTL drive will be taken off-line.”
He shook his head at the last comment.
“We’re a scout craft, so without speed we are sitting ducks. Our job is to report on any possible enemy movements in this sector and to report back to the Armada. We’ll get the system checked out when we get back.”
“Sir.”
He looked back to the displays and the odd light formations in space. Occasionally, a flicker of light would indicate the movement of one of the massive transports as it moved through the system. Light from the suns would glint from its hull as it passed by. He started to relax, and the muscle in his back easing for just a second before the storm hit. It started with a flash of light followed by the dimming of the ship’s interior lights. Alarms triggered throughout the Odysseus. He looked to his screen and spotted an object entering the system.
“What is it?” he cried.
Dekarchos Ezekiel, his tactical officer, checked his screen.
“It’s Imperial…give me a second…yes, Sir, it’s a Median battleship. Our database confirms its configuration as a Scythian Class heavy battleship. I think it’s the Elamite, Sir.”
He looked back to his own computer display and the projected design and configuration of the ship. It was massive, maybe half a kilometre long, but nothing as vast as the Terran Titans.
“Tissaphernes’ ship? I thought he was supposed to be off fighting the Lydian pirates, six systems away? What is he doing back here?”