Black Legion: 02 - Assault on Khorram

by Michael G. Thomas

  Xenophon sighed.

  “That’s just great, so now we’re stuck here.”

  Tamara looked confused and reached out to grab his shoulder.

  “Bombings? You never told me about that.”

  “What?” replied Xenophon, confused by her question, but Roxana knew full well what she was referring to. Tamara was the most recent addition to their little group, and although they had worked together for some time, they didn’t have the bond of friendship that tied Roxana, Glaucon and Xenophon together. It wasn’t her fault. It was simply due to the fact that the three of them already knew each other from back home on Attica. She looked at Tamara and tried to calm her.

  “It wasn’t them, of course it wasn’t,” she explained.

  Tamara frowned at her comments, evidently not pacified.

  “Then why are they outlaws?”

  Roxana looked to Xenophon who nodded an unspoken agreement to let her explain what had happened to them back on Attica. It was a sad tale, and one that none of them liked to discuss.

  “Xenophon’s father was murdered in the coup after the occupation forces left. He lost everything, including his home, money and possessions. Since the coup, there has been a massive clampdown on anybody that opposes the new democracy.”

  Glaucon laughed at her use of the word democracy. She waited for him to stop before continuing.

  “Lots of citizens have been added to the lists, and apparently, a large number have been executed for treason.”

  Xenophon nodded in agreement.

  “That’s right, the two of us can’t return until either something changes back home, or we can guarantee our safety.”

  “And you can’t, right now?” continued Tamara.

  “Of course not, we would land, and security forces would take us immediately into custody. We need work, and right now the Legion is the single best hope for us. Mercs are not being used, so this is it.”

  Glaucon moved for the ramp first, and the others followed. It was wide enough for a wheeled transport. The last few soldiers came with them, leaving the landing bay to the deck crew and transports that sat patiently. Tamara stopped and looked back.

  “Hey, we could just grab one of those and get out of here now?” she said with more than a sense of mischievousness in her voice. The transports were mainly made up of the standard issue dromons, each waiting for a crew and a mission. These were the standard swift gunboats used by the Terrans. They could carry warriors, equipment or supplies both in space and inside an atmosphere. They were big, and at fifty-five metres long, they took up a large part of the landing bay.

  Interesting, thought Xenophon. What would happen if they stopped us, though? How far would we go if the guards became violent?

  He lifted his hand in a stop gesture. The others complied and moved to the darkened wall of the tunnel.

  “You’re not seriously thinking about doing this, are you?” asked Roxana.

  “I...I don’t know. A couple more jumps, and we’ll never catch up with the Armada.”

  Glaucon glanced at the dromons, especially one to the right that was being fuelled. The paintwork, like most gear in the fleet, was painted dark grey, almost black. The symbols of the Legion adorned its flanks as well as the insignia of the Arcadian Navy. Two men were busy working on the fuelling, and there were no others present.

  “Can you fly one of those things?” he asked.

  Xenophon shook his head, and Tamara did the same. Roxana looked at it for a little longer before speaking.

  “It looks like a standard issue Arcadian light dromon, used for utility work and transport. I’ve done a few simulated runs on the larger Arcadian model. It shouldn’t be too different.”

  Xenophon considered their situation for a few seconds, and the weight of the problem seemingly unaffected his judgement.

  “If we do this, we do it right. No injuries and we get out clean. We don’t want to leave behind dead or wounded Arcadians.”

  “True,” laughed Glaucon, “we’ve got enough enemies as it is!”

  A group of six spatharii marched passed them, each wearing full armour and carrying the standard weapons of the unit. The last man in the group carried the squad’s personal shield generator. It was built into a substantial back-mounted pack, and he looked exhausted carrying it about with him. Xenophon watched them move away and wondered why they might be carrying such heavy equipment. In seconds, they were towards the end of the corridor and disappeared into the bowels of the Titan. There were now very few people on the landing pad and only the two working on the nearest dromon were even remotely close.

  “What’s the plan?” asked Roxana.

  Tamara was gone, making her way across the open ground to where the two crewmen were busy working on the dromon. Her black leather jacket and electric blue hair always drew attention. She made it to within ten metres before one of the men stopped her. Xenophon, Glaucon and Roxana pulled themselves close to the corridor wall, watching from a distance as she started up a conversation with both of them. Glaucon pulled a blade from its sheath and held it out in front of him. Roxana spotted what he was doing and reached out, grabbing the blade and holding it low.

  “No, you heard what Xenophon said, no casualties.”

  He looked over to Xenophon to find him glaring back.

  “Don’t be a fool, we do this silently, follow me.”

  He kept low and moved along the corridor until reaching the mouth. Even though a number of the lights were off, the landing bay was still one of the better lit parts of the Titan. Dozens of loading vehicles, small wheeled buggies and locked tool racks filled much of the space. He dashed nearly twenty metres and took cover beside one of the heavy fighters. At nearly ten metres long, it was small but well armoured and capable of taking on all but the most powerful alien craft. Xenophon ran his hand over the gleaming metalwork as he passed close by. As a young boy, he had often dreamed of being one of the small numbers of elite fighter pilots in the Alliance Navy. However, it was probably the most competitive part of the military.

  “Nice, very nice,” whispered Glaucon. Xenophon looked to see his friend close behind and also keeping low to avoid being spotted. Roxana moved a few metres behind, and so far they seemed to have avoided attention. A noise ahead stopped them all in their tracks. It was a loud disagreement between Tamara and the crewmen of the dromon.

  “What is she doing?” called Roxana while remaining hidden against the fuselage of the fighter.

  He looked out and saw both crewmen now engaged in a very lively argument about something inside the craft. She pointed inside, both men moved in, and she followed close behind them.

  “Clever girl!” exclaimed Xenophon, and without even speaking to the others, he was gone. Out from the cover of the fighter, he rushed across the open space and to the left-hand thrusters of the dromon. A toolbox sat on a wheeled bench, and a number of tools lay spread out on the work surface. He took the nearest wrench and moved to the main access hatch. He waited for a second and listened to the conversation inside. It took a few seconds for him to make out their voices.

  “No way can a standard dromon make it through a gap that small, no way!” said Tamara.

  She’s baiting them, I like it, he thought.

  “Look, little girl. I know what the engines can do, and there ain’t no way you’ve put one of these babies through a space like this one,” said one of the crew.

  From his position at the main hatchway, he could now see the dark shapes of the three of them. Movement beside him caught his attention, and his pulse skyrocketed until he spotted it was his comrades waiting near the hatch.

  “Let’s go!” he said as quietly as he could manage.

  He was inside, and already halfway to the two crewmen, when he was spotted. They had no idea what was coming, but even as he approached, the young Tamara leapt into action. Her first move was a quick jab at the first man’s stomach, followed by jumping passed the second and putting him into an arm lock. Xenophon landed n
ext to her and jumped on the first man. They rolled to the ground, and it was then that the second man must have struck a panic button of some kind. The great roar of the warning klaxon almost burst their eardrums with a blast of sound.

  “Are we secure?” cried Roxana.

  “She’s ours, get her started!” replied Glaucon, who was already dragging the crew to the hatchway.

  “What...what the hell are you doing?” asked one of the men, a grimy looking fellow with a cut on his forehead from their scuffle to capture the dromon.

  “We’re not here to cause trouble, friend. We are leaving to join the Legion.”

  Xenophon reached over to help him drag the men out of the vessel.

  “You’ve got that right, no way are we going back to work for Xenias and his friends at the border.”

  The men looked at each other in surprise. They were clearly being paid to work on the ship and not in the slightest bit interested in the Legion or probably their mission.

  “You’ll never get out of here, the landing bay doors are all security sealed for faster than light travel.”

  Roxana could hear them talking and leaned out from the small cockpit to see what the commotion was all about. Xenophon and Glaucon were busy pulling the men out of the hatch, and Roxana was covering them with a pulse pistol. After the initial struggle, the two men seemed to have given up, and they certainly weren’t offering any resistance. She looked back inside the vessel and brought up the main status and tactical display. The first few columns were good until she hit the launch status indicators. She shook her head in irritation and leaned over to the others.

  “He’s right, you know. This place is on lockdown. I’ll need a security override to get out. If we don’t get those doors open, we’ll be stuck here.”

  Xenophon left the two to Glaucon who had now reached the door, climbed into the cockpit and was looking about at the controls. He knew all too well that if Roxana couldn’t do it, then they had no chance. The computer system showed the fuel and integrity status of the vessel, as well as the fact that both the magnetic clamps and landing bay door were still secured.

  “If we’re still here when security gets down here, we’ll be screwed.”

  “You don’t say!” replied Roxana.

  Roxana looked irritated as she pulled on her straps and started the pre-flight ignition sequence. Xenophon watched her as she went through her checks. It amazed him that she had learnt so much after such a short time in the Navy. As he continued watching her, she spun around and barked orders at him.

  “Don’t stand around! Get the doors and airlocks sealed. We need to get out of this place.”

  He stood up and moved to the side door. Like most access hatches, it was double layered with a built-in airlock. Glaucon had already shut the rest and was in the process of tying up their two prisoners on the landing bay floor.

  “Find out how to open the main doors!” he called out to his friend.

  Glaucon nodded and bent down, speaking loud and fast to the two men. The body language even from this distance showed they couldn’t help. Glaucon stopped and stepped back inside, pulling the door shut behind him.

  “They don’t know. You need to get the permission of the deck chief or commanding officer to issue the orders.”

  “Or bypass the computer system,” said Roxana happily.

  Red lights flashed at the end of the landing platform; the signal that she had already bypassed the system.

  “How the hell did you do that?” asked Xenophon.

  Tamara was strapping herself in. He grabbed the main handle to pull it shut when he spotted the security unit. They appeared unarmoured but were all carried pulse weapons and were covering the distance quickly. Another man stepped down to the landing bay, and it looked like their old commander, Komes Pasion.

  Damn, he is not going to be pleased about this!

  Xenophon pulled the clamps on the door and spun around.

  “Whatever you’re gonna do, do it fast!”

  CHAPTER TWO

  Landing Bay, Arcadian Titan ‘Olympia’

  Like many of Legion that was stationed on board, a growing number had started to announce their dissatisfaction at being forcibly removed from the expedition. It wasn’t just the loss of the opportunity, but it was the fact they would be returned with potentially nothing, while the others in the Armada would return with riches and wealth possibly beyond all their imagination. While some had managed to escape via lifeboats or small transports, most had either accepted their forced change in circumstances or been thrown in the brig until their return to Terran space. Xenophon and his friends had chosen to escape, but their attempt to do so from the Olympia was a disaster from start to finish. The trouble began with the engines on the dromon, and their refusal to even power up.

  “What’s the problem Roxana? Why aren’t we moving?” screamed Tamara, her frayed nerves now sending her young mind over the edge. Being the youngest and least experienced, she was prone to the odd breakdown when her stress levels were too high. She ripped of her straps and jumped ahead to the cockpit section where Roxana and Xenophon were busy trying to get the dromon off the ground.

  “The magnetic couplings are off, so what’s the problem with the engines?” asked Xenophon.

  Glaucon looked out through the small side window and started laughing. Tamara watched him with bemusement.

  “What’s so funny?”

  “Well, you know the power coupling for charging? It’s not connected to the ship.”

  Xenophon looked back at the main computer display and tapped the screen showing fuel and power. All the levels were still at maximum. He looked back to Glaucon.

  “Showing full power here, I don’t see what the problem is. The engines should be powering up.”

  Glaucon climbed over and landed next to him. He wasn’t as experienced in the use of engineering or computer management systems, but he had still gone through basic flight training on civilian light transports. He looked at the computers, looking for something that Xenophon or Roxana may have missed. He squinted as he looked at the main panel and leaned in, tapping the button to the side of the display, it switched to manoeuvring thrusters and life support. The fuel tanks showed zero percent fuel.

  “No, we only have fuel for the FTL drive, that’s it?” snapped Roxana.

  Xenophon climbed back to the side window and looked out at the approaching security unit. They were checking the dromons one by one. Two of the men were running to where the crewmen were tied up.

  “Hey, they’ll be here any second. Either we launch, or we get out, now!” shouted Xenophon.

  “We can’t jump from inside the ship. We’ll tear the Titan apart and kill hundreds, maybe thousands,” Tamara shouted.

  “Very well, everybody out, through the starboard escape hatch and away from the security patrol. Come on, we’ll find another ship.”

  Xenophon was first through the hatch, closely followed by the others. They dropped down beside one of the large landing legs and moved behind it, staying in the shadow of the craft. It wasn’t a second too soon as the guards were already inside the dromon and searching for them. The klaxon continued to blast in their ears and made talking difficult outside of the sound dampened spacecraft. As soon as it had started, the noise stopped, only to be replaced by the shouting of a familiar man. It was Komes Pasion, and he could only be a short distance away now. Roxana grabbed Xenophon and pulled him close to her face.

  “What are we going to do?” she demanded.

  “Uh, okay, see that transporter, the one with the containers inside?” he said and pointed off down the landing bay to a large dromon. It was sat alone with a number of machines nearby. It was one of the civilian models used to move freight between ships.

  “Do it!” said Glaucon without even bothering to check.

  They moved from the cover of the leg and ran to the next dromon, a battered looking military vessel with a number of holes the size of a man’s head running along its fusel
age. As they moved passed its battered structure, Xenophon couldn’t help but remember his experiences on the Plymouth Station prior to its capture. Heavy weapons had caused terrible damage, great holes and tears had ripped through its structure as he and a few other fortunate crewmen managed to escape. They moved to the end of the vessel and looked out at the space of nearly fifty metres from their position; and to the only viable craft that could take them from the Titan.

  “There they are!” shouted a man off into the distance.

  Near one of the fighters were a group of around a dozen guards, of which at least half were stratiotes, the light infantry used in the Legion. One fired a warning shot, and the rest ran towards their small group.

  “Now or never, let’s go!” shouted Glaucon.

  He ran forward and covered nearly a third of the distance before the rest gave chase. Tamara showed a rare burst of speed and managed to make it at the same time as Glaucon to the target, and the rest arrived a short distance behind them. Roxana glanced behind them, watching the approaching guards and soldiers and turned back, shouting as loudly as she could.

  “Move it!”

  As they started moving up the ramp, they were they hit by a volley of gunfire. The impact of the pulse rounds left small marks on the metal of the craft but penetrated no further inside. Xenophon moved up the ramp and jumped inside. A loud crack sound followed, and he staggered back and collapsed onto the ramp. The others stumbled over him, and Tamara managed to catch her foot and fell down next to him, groaning at a pain spreading up from her ankle. A large man appeared in the doorway. He was stripped to the waist and wore the overalls worn by some of the Arcadian spatharii, the heavy infantry of the Legion.

  “Nobody gets on board my ship!” he snapped and then stepped down the ramp. His hands were raised in a traditional boxing stance. Glaucon pushed ahead, not even thinking about what to do next. The massive man swung his fist, but Glaucon expertly dodge the punch and followed up with a quick jab to the man’s jaw. It was a strong punch, but it did nothing more than force the giant to shake his head and spit onto the ground.