Chapter 1
"...Tis to Glory we Steer "
DuBois Station, Homeport of the 8th Fleet, Edge of the Attican Traverse
January 8th 2177
It was all he'd ever wanted, since at 12 years old he had been part of a tour of the Alliance cruiser SSV Manilia during Fleet Week back home on Bekenstein.
To serve on a warship, be part of something that mattered. Not just content in his own ambitions. All he had ever wanted since then was to make a difference. He had longed for a feeling of purpose . Now after four years of work at the academy he was certain he would find it as an officer in the Systems Alliance Navy.
And here it is.
Taking her in as he walked down the docking bay his sea bag carried over his shoulder freshly minted Alliance 2nd Lieutenant Paul Luckner took in his new posting with visible pride written across his face.
SSV Salamis (SP-39) was a squat, lean triangle in the dark azure hues of the System's Alliance Navy, who's blocky shape was broken up only by her softened edges and a pair of thrusters at her stern. Built like a lean pyramid she appeared almost to be a cruiser only scaled down to half the size. To someone who grew up dreaming of serving amongst the stars her identity was obvious.
She was a Waterloo-class frigate, built in the years right before the First Contact War. Twenty years later and the class was still a navy workhorse assigned to the frontier of the Attican Traverse. He'd trained on the class leader, SSV Waterloo (SP-1) during his third year of study at Arcturus. Long since retired from service in the late 2160s she was kept in flight conditions for short training cruises for cadets to familiarize themselves with shipboard operations.
Some of those cadets prayed for a posting on a newer class or even to a cruiser, carrier or dreadnought, but Paul had read enough on the Waterloo-class to come to respect them.
The first flight of 16 (with 4 under construction at the time) had all served during the First Contact War, either with Admiral Drescher's 2nd Fleet over Shanxi or afterwards when the 4th Fleet had skirmished with the Hierarchy Navy in a series of hit and run battles near Relay 914 shortly before the council had intervened and the war had ended.
They were respected for their reliability, built tough with thicker hull plating and structural support then more frigates, as a battle tested design.
Likewise however they were known to be cramped, lacking in amenities that newer ships had and now twenty years on starting to show their ages in areas. They were maligned by some as dinosaurs lacking some capabilities and amenities of the newer Lupanto or Tours class frigates like shipboard VIs or automated features like kinetic damage control barriers. It didn't matter.
Paul wouldn't have traded this posting for another. Not even an offer for a dreadnought or carrier. Salamis was perfect, the sort of ship he had dreamed of serving aboard since he'd been a child and here he was after all those years of effort staring at his prize, if this were a sappy vid he'd have pinch himself to make sure he was actually awake.
Striding towards the ship's "gangplank", the naval parlance still used to refer to her umbilical connection to the dock, he meet the gaze of the Marine on duty and with four years of efficiency honed at Arcturus academy clicked his heels, stood straight and snapped his smartest salute.
.
Private Thomas Pham returned the salute of the officer automatically, holding it for a moment as he studied the man in front of him the same way he had been trained to study terrain for the best ground to dig in or an enemy formation for a SALUTE report.
He was lean, not built up like some of the marines aboard but the way his dress blues were filled out said he took fitness seriously enough. He'd heard about a few sailors, engineers mostly who became lax in that department though he had yet to meet one himself. His sea bag was at his feet and the hand that had held it wore what had to be an academy class ring glinting in the station's artificial lighting. Raising his gaze Pham noticed that his head reminded him of nothing short of a orange toothbrush, bristle like hair shaved short on either side in a "high 'n tight" cut well shoved into a cap below his matching brows a pair of brown eyes that stared back at the Corporal.
He lowered his arm and the officer's followed, behind him Pham heard footsteps and had only turned his head a quarter of the way back as the ship's navigator, 1st Lieutenant Iqbal stepped next to him, the officer pivoted on his heels and saluted again, Iqbal returned it.
"Permissioned to come aboard, sir ?" He asked, a voice low with an accent barely detectable through his translator. Pham penned it for somewhere in Europe.
"Permission granted, 2nd Lieutenant Luckner, I'm 1st Lieutenant Sahir Iqbal, senior navigator, follow me. The XO will want to see you."
Lieutenant Luckner nodded and picked up his sea bag following hot on Iqbal's heels. Pham turned back towards the dock and began counting down the number of minutes left till his relief arrived. After a moment he frowned.
He didn't like how large it was.
Decontamination was standard procedure for anyone boarding an Alliance warship. The shipboard environment had to be kept as sterile as possible both for crew considerations, sickness or allergies didn't mix well with the close quarters of a spacecraft, and for the equipment, some of which was quite delicate to organic contamination.
Lieutenant Iqbal made conversation to try and make the wait bearable.
"Where are you from?" His smile revealed a set of white teeth in contrast to the small dark regulation beard that rounded his mouth. Paul had barely been able to grow a mustache all through high school, he doubted he could grow something like that in ten years.
"Bekenstein sir."
He'd grown up on the "Human Illium" the luxury goods capital of the Systems Alliance. Where the rich grew richer and the poor... well you didn't mention the poor. Few people from Beke enlisted, better opportunities were found planetside in the private sector. It was rare enough to find an enlisted man from the planet let alone a commissioned officer, however the head navigator didn't look surprised as some might at his choice though, only nodding.
"I grew up in Karachi, back on Earth. My father was one of the first men commissioned into Alliance service back in 2149. Was honored to carry on the tradition and make him proud when i graduated back in '70." As if to cap his point, with a short ping the process completely at the interior door's opened to let them inside.
Paul felt the cool relief of the ship's temperature control overtake him as they stepped out of the umbilical. He recognized the interior from his time aboard Waterloo, the same cramped hallways he trained in, with barely enough room for a man to stick out his arms without scraping them against the walls. Of course he supposed nobody did join the navy for space.
Well, not that kind of Space. He thought dryly.
"Forward is the bridge, sensor suite, arms locker and the cockpit. CIC is the deck bellow us." The 1st Lieutenant said as they started aft, they'd only taken a few steps when someone else's footsteps rang loudly on the deck.
"Coming through" an accented female voice rang out coldly, Luckner followed Iqbal's lead, pushing himself flat against the bulkhead as a blond woman, her hair cut as short as his own and dressed in the lighter blue working utilities squeezing past both men with a nod "Lieutenants" and kept moving towards the cockpit.
"That's one of our pilots, Flight Lieutenant Popov. As you can see she's quite dedicated. Of course I've yet to meet a flight lieutenant who isn't". His tone suggested a joke that Paul wasn't privy to, but he made no mention of it as they continued.
They took the elevator down a level, emerging outside the closed off CIC, the combat information center was the heart of the ship, dedicated to assembling a picture for the captain with the data from engineering, weapons, navigation and the helm during battle. Sound proofed and lit with lowlight conditions it was bad form to cut through the Salamis's nerve center, and Paul could swear he made the 1st Lieutenant smiled when he didn't try to.
A corridor ran around either side of the CIC to the ship's wardroom, beyond that the Captain's cabin. The wardroom was set up for a meal, with a single long table with eight chairs, four to either side, currently only one was occupied by a dark skinned woman with black hair tied off into a regulation bun. She watched them enter from behind a purple mug of something steaming hot.
"Lieutenant Luckner, this is Staff Commander Huff, the XO." Paul came to attention and raised his hand into a salute.
"2nd Leutnant Paul Luckner, reporting ma'am."
Commander Huff placed her mug down and stood, returning it as he winced realizing in his nervousness he'd let his accent seep into his translator. The woman's eyes looked him over from the top to bottom the way a cat might a mouse, but seemed to not notice his slip up instead asking cooly.
"So, your our new navigator. Fresh out of Arcturus"?
"Yes Commander, the Salamis is my first posting." He stifled a grunt a moment later realizing how enthusiastic he'd let that sound.
Your an officer not a cadet damnit, act like it!
Huff made no comment as she pulled up her Omni-Tool and looked over what became clear to be his personnel record. She made an indistinct noise as her grey eyes scanned over the lines of text as she scrolled through them with a flick of an ungloved finger. Has it been him he would have required a set of chipped gloves.
So she's skin chipped then? He killed the train of thought as she continued.
"Says you qualified EVA 1st class"? Her tone was steady but he swore he heard a hint of surprise.
The Alliance mandated any warship be staffed by personnel trained in extravehicular activity. This was tasked to engineers, marines or in his case, navigation crew familiar with the ship's rather sensitive electronic warfare sensors.
Training consisted of a series of five spacewalks, first tethered, then "free" with the use of a maneuvering unit. Proficiency was measured by a class ranking, 3rd-1st class with those few perfect experts earning the title of "Master EVA", a rarity he knew only two souls who held it, both instructors. EVA 1st class was not something often seen on a fresh from the academy butter bar.
"Yes 'ma'am. Grew up scuba diving a lot on vacation back home. Not so different really."
Huff closed her Omni-tool with a swipe of a finger and a small noise he hopped wasn't negative "noted lieutenant, Captain Cervera is currently ashore. He'll find you once he's back aboard. Till then we'll get you settled. Sahir, have someone give him the tour. I need you back here for one more look over the charts before we shove off tomorrow, i want to be certain they are up to date."
He saluted again and made his exit, breathing an unconscious sigh of relief at having survived his first proper encounter with a superior officer.
It was roomie he supposed.
A locker like the kind he'd used in school back on Bekenstein. A very far cry from the walk in closet his old room back home had or even the shared closet he and his roommate had at the academy. At least it was a sterile white rather then the dull scared grey 783# had been back in High School.
This was the extent of personnel storage space he had aboard. Back on DeBois station he was assigned a small flat, part of the officers quarters but when underway this was all he would have to call his own. Just enough space for his dress blues, an extra set of utilities and his civvies. A small draw at the bottom for his shoes and boots, and a shelf at the top for smaller items like his personnel effects.
With space a premium he had made his selection carefully, choosing to bring a Holo frame of him and his parents. It was of the three of them on graduation day. Him in his dress uniform with freshly pinned on rank insignia the woman on either side of him beaming with a mix of pride and love well he tried to look (and failed) stoic like a real naval officer should.
They'd come a long way from the shouting and crying that awful month before he left for the Academy.
Both of his mothers hadn't taken his choice to go to Arcturus lightly. Dora Luckner had expected him to attend business school or get a degree in technology if not both just like everyone else's kids. She worked for a major Omni Tool developer and was certain he could have been hired on with his grades if he'd committed. That day he announced his acceptance to the Alliance naval academy was when he had finally understood that old saying about a quiet so silent one could hear a pin if it were dropped. He hadn't told either of them he even applied till the notice arrived.
Evelyn wasn't happy about his choice either but unalike his birth mom, she hadn't felt he was wasting an opportunity or potentially, only that they hadn't discussed it. She had always been the softer of his parents and she told him she just wished he hadn't kept putting in his application from them, that it was a betrayal of both their trusts by keeping such a big decision to himself. That had stabbed through his heart.
He had always tried his best to be a good son, brought home good grades and as a teenager tried to stay out of trouble. Yet here he was sneaking behind his family's back out of shame or fear of what they'd think of his choice? He knew exactly why both women had such reservations about military service.
Both had lost their own parents on Shanxi during the First Contact War, having moved off world the year after his birth in 2156. They'd had go watche the news vids of the devastation with a nauseous familiarity at the sight of their home laid to wastes. Neither said it outright but both obviously worried what might happen to him serving in the Navy out in the 'Traverse.
The Attican traverse was considered a frontier, with pirates preying on commerce and slavers making raids almost ever other month on the still growing colonies trying to take root. Not even aboard a warship could be considered completely safe as the fate of the SSV Iwo Jima proved. Lost with all hands on the Batarian world of Camala eleven years earlier, after being targeted by alleged anti alliance extremists, although the Batarians exit from the Council that same year left many wondering if their government had more involvement then it let on.
With a sigh he ran a thumb over the image of them all together as he placed the frame upright on the small shelf so he would look at it every time he opened the locker.
Changing out of his dress uniform into shipboard fatigues he stared at himself in the small mirror attached to the interior of the locker's door.
Staring back was a naval officer. Assigned aboard a ship and commissioned. The image made it feel like a weight had lifted off his shoulders at last.
He had made it, abd he would make them proud.
Like every frigate in the System's Alliance Navy, Salamis carried the name of a famous battle from human history.
In her case it was that of the the great victory a unified Greece had won over Persia off the island of Salamis in 480 BCE during the ancient Greco-Persian war.
Fought in the narrow waters of the strait of Salamis, the Persian emperor Xerxes had watched his large fleet become too clustered to maneuver in the straits confines as it was set upon by a smaller Greek force, who's formation had swept through the disorganized masses sinking hundreds of ships in a deadly ambush that became the turning point of the war.
In the crew mess behind a glass case lay a model Trireme, the stubby, single masted warship propelled by three banks of oarsmen favored by the Greeks and an allegedly authentic bronze hoplon shield, above both hung a contemporary painting of the battle depicting two ancient warships clashing together as crewmen loosed bows and brandished long bronze tipped spears at each other in a bloody melee that was a far cry from the hundreds of kilometers distances most modern space warships exchanged fire from.
Paul could remembered back at the academy, SSV Waterloo had in her mess a full holo-rendition of Napoleon's final battle at miniature scale. He must have stared over the long but tiny lines of flickering soldiers projected shoulder to shoulder in the false gunsmoke for hours-
A low murmur snapped Paul from his thought over the artist's work, someone had cleared their throat.
"Lieutenant Luckner"? The voice held a hint of uncertainty in it's North American tones as a man his own age smiled slightly with a raise eyebrow.
It was Tom Sykes, another 2nd Lieutenant, who had spoken up. He had been the one roped into getting Paul aquatinted with the ship's layout. The junior gunnery officer had so far relished it, happily showing him everything from engineering and the cargo bay aft to his beloved gunnery station on the 2nd level at the helm.
And he'd just spent the last five minutes staring at a model ship and painting apparently ignorant of the time passing.
Hell of a first impression Paul he thought bitterly. The man though only smiled as he sheepish apologized for getting lost in his thoughts. "Don't worry 'about it" and continued the tour without another word spoken on the matter.
Despite his familiarity with the layout he had from training aboard Waterloo Paul appreciated getting a refresher although it was odd how empty the ship was with most of the crew ashore. They were shoving off tomorrow for a patrol of the Kepler Verge and with the prospect of the next month stuck aboard it seemed everyone wanted to make shore leave a memorable event.
He was surprised when he asked Sykes why he wasn't out there with them, that he just laughed.
"Me? I'm the FNG in gunnery right now. Sure I'm a Lieutenant but I've only been aboard a few months so people are ready for me to screw something up any time i lift a finger. I've been cramming in extra time up front so I can know the main battery inside 'an out. Show 'em i know my shit, 'ya know"?
He did indeed if his lengthy explanation of the ship's main gun was anything to go by.
"...she can put a 5 kilo slug out every 30 seconds. It's smaller then what a cruiser or dreadnought is shooting but we're 'gonna be much closer then them, so our shot's count a lot more, hitting critical areas between armor plates and full force into barriers. If we're operating in a Wolfpack then we can do nasty work to a cruiser with a salvo or two".
And of course any extra hands on time with the equipment made sense. Both he and Paul needed to pass their qualification exams.
Once aboard junior officers were expected to hit the books to earn their place by qualifying as a Space Warfare Officer. The SWO badge proved themselves adept enough to serve aboard a space warship and weeded out those who lacked it. If they failed to qualify they'd be shipped planetside for shore postings.
Some people excelled at that of course, working in supply depots or planetside clerical work that helped keep the Navy running smooth. Of course some people hadn't spent four years at the most prestigious military academy in the universe with a single goal in mind. That would be a fate worse then death as far as concerned him.
The ship layout was familiar. Three decks stacked atop each other. The bridge, navigation, and sensor suite on the first, CIC, crew birthing,sickbay, the galley and wardrooms on the second, finally engineering, cargo bay and storage on the third. Packed tight certainly but all there. Uncomfortable but practical, the military way through and through.
"Space is tight but you get use to it, she isn't a Dreadnought after all" Sykes said, and Paul agreed. Frigates were the smallest warships in the fleet, but their size meant a small elite crew, had to be that way when your pool of people was so limited.
"How's the tour Lieutenant. She everything you hoped"? A man asked as they entered the cargo bay. Paul turned and brought himself to attention recognizing the insignias on the man's collar. Captain's pips.
Captain Cervera was broad shouldered, balding with more hair above his lip then on his head, and had a mischievous smile on his face. His skin was a dark shade that indicated a life spent outdoors and off his ship.
"Yes sir, the Waterloo class are tough ships. I'm happy to have gotten a slot on one. Sir." He was proud of the fact he managed to answer without a hint of nervousness in his voice.
The Captain grinned "Glad to hear that Lieutenant". Paul clasped his own into it and they shock.
"We'll get you settled in Lieutenant. We cast off tomorrow so your going to have to hit the ground running." He added as their hands broke. Paul gave a small nod.
"Of course sir. I'll be ready"
"Good man. Welcome aboard Salamis Lieutenant. As you were gentlemen". With that he was off, the Captain heading aft towards engineering.
After a moment Sykes continued the tour, heading deeper into the cargo bay as he explained the catioukt system used to deploy their enbarked IFV but Paul's mimd was elsewhere running iver his encounter with his CO.
It was a small thing really just a few simple words, but in that moment more then anything else that had happened that day, the one that was to begin his career. 2nd Lieutenant Paul Luckner felt it was the start of something quite grand.
Wiping the smirk from his lips he began jogging to catch up to Sykes. If he was hoing to hit the ground running, he certainly had a lot more to learn.
Excerpt from Osprey Publishing's Warships of the Systems Alliance (1) 2154-2170 by Amada Smolet, illustrated by Tom Ferguson
The Waterloo-class was the brainchild of the Alliance aeronautical engineering and space architecture board headed by legendary Admiral Jon Grissom. In 2151 the first designs were prepared for armed spacecraft to defend future human colonies in the event of hostile first contact. Built in LEO (Low Earth Orbit) by the original 18 founding member nations of the Alliance, an strategic estimate was made that required a class size of between 25-60 vessels to patrol future colonized systems. After over a year of boardroom battles the designs for humanity's first interstellar warship was completed and construction commenced.
With a length of 220 meters from bow to stern and a mere 90 across, the Waterloo-class are the smallest frigates still employed by the Alliance Fleet.
For propulsion the class boasts Dassault-Areospace designed liquid hydrogen/liquid oxygen maneuvering thrusters allow her ample agility for quick course changes during combat or hazardous environments although a series of very rapid course corrections will overheat her drive core if left unchecked. A trio of diffuse radiator arrays (DRA) mounted on both side of the vessel allow for heat buildup to be released in such cases. At FTL she can travel millions of miles in mere hours well at normal cruise is capable of a steady 4000 miles per hour between two bodies. All of this is powered by a Mark I Hermes druve core, that feeds irs element zero reaction into a pair of anti proton thrusters.
The later Tours-class and Lupanto-class would be built with a more efficient droplet heatsink system but all member of the Waterloo-class had been completed by it's adoption in 2170. When compared to newer frigates the class are slower and less maneuverable. As such they are often assigned to dreadnought battle groups as escorts or make lone patrols where this won't force other vessels to match their lower speed.
Her crew compliment sits at 70, counting her 12 strong marine detachment. Unalike later frigates that feature full crew accommodations, the Waterloo class rely almost entirely on sleeper pods, with a three shift system in place that mandates hot bunking, space aboard having been a premium in the early days of spacecraft design. Her lack of a shipboard VI means more of her redundant systems are crew run like secondary scanners or elements of her electronic warfare suite.
For weapons they boasts a Unified Armaments spiral mass accelerator cannon between the second and third deck, running the length of the ship, four forward facing torpedo tubes with two aft facing, armed with Mark III Atlatl disruptor toroedos. Finally a pair of GARDIAN laser arrays provides point defense.
Waterloo-class vessels saw service during the First Contact War with the Turian Hierarchy, and were mainstays of Alliance forces during the anti piracy campaigns of the mid 2160s in the Traverse. Today they take lesser intensive duties like picket patrols or supporting plant side operations to free up newer vessels for more pressing duties.
The 2177 Systems Alliance Navy budgetary report states that the last Waterloo-class ships will leave active service by 2185.