'Fire!' His mind roared and his hands gripped the arms of his chair so tightly he nearly tore the dam things off. Especially with his Cybernetic forearm which was more than possessing of the strength to do just that. But fortunately the sharp booms of ionized energy being smashed against their hull. Whether by the grace of the last few remaining ounces of power left in the shields or sheer tenacity on the part of the Centaur as it simply seemed to shrug off the fire from the enemy frigate and continue barreling through the screen of Laser bolts upon it's foe. 

Michael's eyes were closed and he was all but deaf to the streams of information being thrown around and at him. He didn't need to hear from his commander that the shields were down, or have the crewman working at the engineering station tell him the enemy frigate was altering course. He could already see these things.... sort of. Not literally with his own eyes but through the eyes of the Centaur. He was viewing the battle from an almost first person perspective of his ship. It was a difficult experience to describe exactly and he doubted he ever could explain it properly with words. To merge minds with your vessel in such a way, more than the basic Neural link that all officers and the ungrateful receive so casually in this kingdom. But an enhanced connection, a deeper connection. One that transcended mere numbers and basic information. One that allowed him to feel the very essence of the ship to listen and work alongside it and understand how it was viewing the battle around it. 

Right now he new the Centaur was hungry. It wanted the blood of this arrogant little frigate who had the gall to try and damage it alongside it's two former brethren that lay strewn and pieced out all around them. The shots that were landing against the bow of the ship were starting to tell. Without the shields deployed they only had the hull to rely on. Admittedly the hull was thicker than most ships of it;s size and even thicker than some much larger but it wouldn't hold out forever. The crew new this and despite the fact that one layer thick layer of reinforced Steel was all that was currently standing between them and oblivion they continued working unworried. The ship rocked and shook around them as blast after blast landed and reports of light damage were starting to come in from the forward sections but still the captain kept his eyes closed and the ship on course. He felt the ships hunger, the need not just to fight it and blast it away from a distance but to close in and obliterate it utterly and completely. A tactic not often seen by HSR-2 class ships but beloved by this particular AI.

It was only when the Centaur was finally broadside to broadside with the frigate did Michael's eyes snap open and one barked order had the ten light laser batteries that were previously standing by awaiting the signal roar to life and tear across the surface of the enemy vessels. Followed shortly by dozens of point defense turrets and cannon that littered the frigates hull with countless minor explosions and lights. It was almost pretty in a morbid sort of way if one ignored the knowledge that they were extinguishing a few hundred lives in the process. 

Between these additional cannons and the five heavy batteries that were already being fired and used through this entire scenario they made short work indeed of the enemy shields and hull after that. He felt the immense satisfaction of the ships spirit as it watched the other ship crumple like paper under it's unyielding cannons. And only when the entire vessel was reduced to a pile of rubble so complete that nothing could possibly have survived he Michael order the weapons systems to cease firing. Even in the bitter cold of space the muzzles of the laser batteries would have been warm to the touch with the raw power and punishing speed they were unloading their deadly payloads with. And Michael felt something then..... even though he pulled himself out of the Centaur's mind to rejoin the mere mortal existence of his crew he could feel an deep satisfaction at having slain another foe and punished more unworthy for their insolence and violence against the kingdom that was now it's home.

“Praefectus” One of his Petty officers whispered just loud enough to try and gather his captain's attention. It was clear from the look on Michael's face that he was in personal commune with the venerable spirit of the ship and the crew always shied away from disturbing him from such a enviable connection. “The supply ships.” He reminded him as the captain looked down at his astronomical display for the first time since arriving at this region. Caught up with the blood fever of the Centaur at the promise of battle he almost completely forgot why they were here in the first place. The convoy they were sent to harass was trying to limp it's way to safety. Hoping vainly that enough damage was done to the Centaur to prevent it from turning back around and finishing what an earlier salvo from the heavy cannons started. 

As reports of real damage were being reported across the forward vessel he knew they would not be able to stand up to another fight if reinforcements came. There were two other Minotaur class vessels cleaning up the rest of the convoy. What few vessels of this class were left were at least being wisely used for their intended purpose. Michael noted happily. Hit and run, arrive quickly were they were least expected destroy everything possible as fast as possible and bugger off before reinforcements could be deployed. Both of the other vessels were far more injured than the Centaur. This convoy was a little more guarded than they were lead to believe and it took far longer to dispatch the various corvettes and escort frigates than anticipated. 

He had word sent to the other captains to return quickly and leave the clean-up to him. They seemed eager enough to oblige and as they turned and made ready to fire up their engines and depart this system the Centaur powered up it's cannons yet again.

******************************** (Six months later... Present day)

If there was one drawback to his captaincy it was being at meetings like these. He would much prefer to receive such briefings in the comfort of his chair or quarters, surrounded by the familiar smell of recycled air and cold yet welcoming embrace of the tight corridors and hard deck plates. He didn't know if it was a side effect of the deeper neural link he shared with his vessel. The more personal connection afforded to him as a Praefectus that made him constantly drawn to his ship and only leaving it;s side when absolutely necessary. Or maybe the naval life was just that ingrained within him after forty years of education and distinguished service that he felt more comfortable on his personal bunk aboard his personal ship than anywhere else. He supposed that wasn't that illogical or unreasonable.

Either way this meeting was a drain on his time but he refused to let it show on his face. He sat straight backed in his seat among-st the other captains and lesser mortals that were arrayed behind the commodores, admirals and generals. Beside him the major of his marine contingent, Viktor Tharkk was dressed splendidly in the crimson and black uniform of a marine officer. His chest was also covered in medals and badges earned over his lifetime of service but there was none he wore as proudly as the blue and silver pins on his collar displaying his loyalty and allegiance to the house Val'Holryn as a vassal and servant. The Val'Holryn eye, the symbol of the great house of his captain and Praefectus. 

Amongst most officers in the room he stood out not just for being the only marine officer invited to the briefing but also for the fact he was one of the few people that made no effort to hide his cybernetics. Between his right hand and respirator that covered his lower face and two Piercing blue cybernetic eyes that were by far the most visible and eye catching of his features. He had numerous other augmentations below the surface of his uniform. Far more than most people gathered here and certainly far more of them willingly and voluntarily received. Not to mention the hard scarring that covered the right side of his face and extended up to the scalp and down the back of the head it was hard to believe that he actually cut quite the handsome figure in his younger days.

One would assume a man of his rank and position would easily be able to afford the most expensive materials and synthetic skin to coat and hide his augments, especially a working lower jaw to replace the one he lost two years ago when this entire fiasco against the false Jihadists began. Instead of a simple metallic grate respirator like those the poor were forced to rely on. But he was far more proud of his robotic parts than his biological ones and refused to cover and hide them as if they were something to be ashamed of. Michael was very proud of his men for their piety and devotion. Most were like the major and bore their augments proudly and received them willingly.

It may seem odd to some to bring a marine commander (and he certainly received a raised eyebrow or two) to a naval briefing instead of his second but the major had more than just a few surface augments. He had hidden ones implanted into his mind and body. False organs, reinforced rib-cage and recorders that processed everything he heard and saw when he so desired. Perfect for a man who's entire duty was a eye for meticulous exactitude both in the standards of his men and the execution of orders and tactics. He recorded every face and his eyes recorded picts of every form and piece of information that came across him. These traits made him invaluable to Michael and while most may look down on such drastic augmentation and the deadly risks associated with so many internal and particularly head based implants and augments the potential benefits far outweighed such concerns. 

And so those cybernetic eyes zoomed and adjusted and took in every face and every image it could. Deciding what was worth capturing in picture or recording and discarding the rest. His brain was just as cybernetic as it was organic and used this power to filter through a dozen details at once. Knowing what his captain would want to be reminded and have record of for future referrals, he recording every word spoken by count Cezare and took in every inch of battle line and tactic being portrayed in the hologram around them. No detail was too small or irrelevant when it came to an invasion. And Viktor was nothing if not meticulous in his gathering of every possible scrap of information.