line and then found themselves caught in a viscous crossfire. The gunners on board the Elamites were starting to get hits while the torpedo boats worked in groups to saturate entire sections around the fighters. By the time the squadron had run the gauntlet, it had lost a third of its number.
“You see. Even with just the eighteen ships the Strategos left us with, we are more than capable of fighting them off. But we have to play this smart.”
“Look,” said Artemas.
She pointed to a trio of torpedo boats that bore Arcadian markings. They were busy chasing another group of fifteen heavy fighters out from the spherical formation. Xenophon tapped his earpiece and contacted the Kentarchos of the small force directly.
“This is the Topoteretes. Get back into position, or I will use your ships as an example.”
They moved perhaps thirty kilometres from their assigned position before slowing and then withdrawing carefully. Even as they headed back, the enemy fighter squadron split up and turned around in an attempt to encircle and overwhelm the outnumbered torpedo boats.
“I did warn them,” said Xenophon.
Roxana could hear the irritation in his voice. It was something she’d heard often before. Like him she also wore an earpiece, and while Xenophon continued to direct the rest of the force, she took over the micromanagement of the fighter and torpedo boat squadrons. Xenophon turned away from the trio of small ships and focused on the Elamites. More than forty heavy fighters waiting at maximum range were hitting both. Shot after shot hit the heavy shielding, and as the minutes rolled by, so did the strength of the shielding.
“Xenophon, they are almost back,” said Roxana.
He glanced over and watched the torpedo boats move back into the range of the rest of the fleet. They were not small vessels, and the name was something of a misnomer. They bordered on the size of the smallest light cruisers and could often take on the same role as their more powerful brethren. The principal difference was that the torpedo boat was primarily designed to launch capital ship crippling warheads. Some actually fired rocket propelled torpedoes, and others were equipped with a single large caliber plasma cannon as powerful as the main guns of a battleship. They carried a modest crew and were also fitted out with a wide variety of close ranged weaponry to deal with missiles and fighters.
“Kentarchos, what is our status?” Xenophon asked.
The man looked back at him.
“Shields are down to less than twenty percent. We can only take another few minutes of fire.”
“Understood.”
Xenophon looked to Roxana.
“This is it. We have to force them to move in. Are you ready?”
Roxana nodded. She knew exactly what he wanted to do. This was a tactic taught to history students throughout the Alliance. It was a risky endeavor but with such mismatched numbers, even she couldn’t come up with a better one.
“Yes, let’s do it.”
Xenophon nodded and then tapped his earpiece.
“All ships, on my mark move into the second Kyklos phase, by squadrons.”
He took in a breath.
“Mark.”
The light cruisers moved first, with some separating slightly to engage fighters. Their firepower dropped to no more than half of before, and in a matter of three minutes the Kyklos was loose and broken. Whereas before it was a coordinated sphere, with the bows of the ships facing outward to the enemy, now it was a confused mess. Kentarchos Cadmus threw Xenophon a withering stare.
“Xenophon, are you sure this will work? I have no intention of...”
“Sir,” called out the tactical officer.
“The enemy fleet, they are moving in from six directions.”
Xenophon and Roxana exchanged a look.
“It’s just like back in the Academy days,” she said, trying to remain calm.
The formation did give the impression of some inbuilt disaster. Half of the warships were low or critical on their shields, and the fighters were staying far back among the
“You see. Even with just the eighteen ships the Strategos left us with, we are more than capable of fighting them off. But we have to play this smart.”
“Look,” said Artemas.
She pointed to a trio of torpedo boats that bore Arcadian markings. They were busy chasing another group of fifteen heavy fighters out from the spherical formation. Xenophon tapped his earpiece and contacted the Kentarchos of the small force directly.
“This is the Topoteretes. Get back into position, or I will use your ships as an example.”
They moved perhaps thirty kilometres from their assigned position before slowing and then withdrawing carefully. Even as they headed back, the enemy fighter squadron split up and turned around in an attempt to encircle and overwhelm the outnumbered torpedo boats.
“I did warn them,” said Xenophon.
Roxana could hear the irritation in his voice. It was something she’d heard often before. Like him she also wore an earpiece, and while Xenophon continued to direct the rest of the force, she took over the micromanagement of the fighter and torpedo boat squadrons. Xenophon turned away from the trio of small ships and focused on the Elamites. More than forty heavy fighters waiting at maximum range were hitting both. Shot after shot hit the heavy shielding, and as the minutes rolled by, so did the strength of the shielding.
“Xenophon, they are almost back,” said Roxana.
He glanced over and watched the torpedo boats move back into the range of the rest of the fleet. They were not small vessels, and the name was something of a misnomer. They bordered on the size of the smallest light cruisers and could often take on the same role as their more powerful brethren. The principal difference was that the torpedo boat was primarily designed to launch capital ship crippling warheads. Some actually fired rocket propelled torpedoes, and others were equipped with a single large caliber plasma cannon as powerful as the main guns of a battleship. They carried a modest crew and were also fitted out with a wide variety of close ranged weaponry to deal with missiles and fighters.
“Kentarchos, what is our status?” Xenophon asked.
The man looked back at him.
“Shields are down to less than twenty percent. We can only take another few minutes of fire.”
“Understood.”
Xenophon looked to Roxana.
“This is it. We have to force them to move in. Are you ready?”
Roxana nodded. She knew exactly what he wanted to do. This was a tactic taught to history students throughout the Alliance. It was a risky endeavor but with such mismatched numbers, even she couldn’t come up with a better one.
“Yes, let’s do it.”
Xenophon nodded and then tapped his earpiece.
“All ships, on my mark move into the second Kyklos phase, by squadrons.”
He took in a breath.
“Mark.”
The light cruisers moved first, with some separating slightly to engage fighters. Their firepower dropped to no more than half of before, and in a matter of three minutes the Kyklos was loose and broken. Whereas before it was a coordinated sphere, with the bows of the ships facing outward to the enemy, now it was a confused mess. Kentarchos Cadmus threw Xenophon a withering stare.
“Xenophon, are you sure this will work? I have no intention of...”
“Sir,” called out the tactical officer.
“The enemy fleet, they are moving in from six directions.”
Xenophon and Roxana exchanged a look.
“It’s just like back in the Academy days,” she said, trying to remain calm.
The formation did give the impression of some inbuilt disaster. Half of the warships were low or critical on their shields, and the fighters were staying far back among the
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