Glaucon stepped back and looked down. Xenophon was out cold, and Roxana was helping to lift Tamara to her feet. He looked behind them and spotted the guards who were now almost on them.
“Too slow!” he muttered and hurled himself one last time at the man. This time he judged it right and crashed into the man’s stomach. He forced his shoulder hard into the soft flesh, and the two men collapsed inside the dromon. They rolled about on the floor of the craft, knocking over a small table covered in machine parts. He managed to put in two punches before the man was able to respond. The first return punch struck Glaucon on the chin and sent him spinning to the floor. He was sturdier built than Xenophon, and with a shake of his head leapt back onto the man. He lifted his hand to strike only to feel cold steel pressed against his head.
“Pentarchos Glaucon, I presume?” asked the man, and then with a single strike, one of the men hit him hard in the face with a rifle butt. He dropped back down, knocked out cold by the powerful blow.
Roxana and Tamara turned to face their adversaries; it was Komes Pasion and his guards. The senior commander wore most of his combat armour and had evidently not changed since his return from the briefing with Clearchus and Cyrus.
“I take it you were thinking of running?” he said angrily.
“No, we are returning to the Legion, just like we signed up to,” snapped back Tamara. Roxana tried to rein in the young girl, but her passions took the better of her. She continued her rant.
“We aren’t Arcadian, and we have not made an agreement with the Medes, just a contract to fight in the expedition led by Cyrus.”
Komes Pasion smiled at her.
“No, you have a contract to serve with the Olympia. Perhaps you should have read your paperwork a little more closely. You work for Terrans, not alien filth like Cyrus and the rest of his mongrel family.”
He looked to his guards.
“Bind them, and then take them all to the brig!”
Arcadian Titan ‘Olympia’, Thapsacus Sector
The three friends sat in silence along with another half a dozen stratiotes who had refused to return with the Arcadians. In the twelve hours since the return of Dukas Xenias and his commanders, it was clear there was a great deal of unrest on the ship. Normally, the Olympia would be crewed by an Arcadian military crew, but for this expedition only a skeleton crew had been supplied by the government for a substantial price. Over half of those on board were from other colonies and planets, even including some of the Arcadians rival such as the Atticans.
Xenophon lay against the wall alongside Glaucon, both of whom were nursing sore heads. Roxana sat nearby and was busy speaking with Dekarchos Maxentius, one of the warriors they had fought alongside with back at the Cilician Gates. He wore a scruffy uniform that was torn along the shoulder and had evidently been caught up in one of the many skirmishes on board the Titan.
“How many of you tried to get out?” she asked him.
“Get out? No, this was a meeting with our Komes. We explained we were unhappy with the plans of the Dukas and intended to leave. Next thing I know we are getting jumped on the way to meeting him. One ended up with a broken leg. He’s still in medical, and the rest of us were thrown in here.”
A younger fighter with a cut on his cheek interrupted them both.
“We should have kept our mouths shut. Now we won’t get paid by Cyrus or the Arcadians. We’ll be lucky if we get transport fare to even get home now.”
Roxana and Maxentius sat in silence, watching the crew as they moved about. Their cell was easily big enough to house thirty prisoners, and there were another five rooms, each facing towards the middle security section in a hexagonal shape. A groan from the right caught their attention; it was Glaucon. He groaned again and lifted his hand to his head. He must have touched a painful bruise because he moaned at the touch.
“Bloody hell, what happened?” he asked, more to himself than to anybody else in the room. Roxana lifted herself up and moved over to him. All were still wearing their combat fatigues just as they had during their abortive escape attempt.
“We screwed up. The Komes and his security detail threw us in here along with anybody else who had the same idea.”
“Same idea, so it’s not just us, then?” he added in mixture of surprise and annoyance.
The noise must have woken Xenophon because he shuddered and slid over; almost knocking his head on the floor before one of the other stratiotes grabbed him.
“Hey, easy fella!” he called out.
Xenophon flailed about until he regained his bearing and managed to sit up. His first view was of Roxana, and for a second he looked reasonably relaxed. Then he saw the bruised Glaucon sat along the wall, and it all flooded back to him.
Oh great, we’re still here, he thought angrily.
The familiar feeling returned; the strange free-floating feeling that occurred just prior to an FTL jump. Xenophon forced himself to stay still and try to avoid vomiting at the sickening feeling. With great effort, he managed to keep it down until with a dull thud the ship completed one of many FTL jumps away from the Armada. He looked around and locked his eyes onto Roxana.
“How many jumps is that now?” he asked.
Roxana looked at him, pleased he was finally conscious but also less than happy at their predicament. Every minute they spent away from the Armada was yet another obstacle between them returning to the Legion.
“I don’t know, at least seven, maybe more,” she answered.
He shook his head and slumped back down into position with a grim expression on his face.
Seven jumps. That could easily put us at least half the way back to the Terran border, assuming that is where we are being taken.
“You know the real reason we have left the Legion, don’t you?” asked a gruff old warrior. He sat in the corner of the brig and kept his head low. The rest of them ignored him and kept talking among themselves. The man continued, even if nobody could be bothered to listen.
“The Laconians are back on the warpath, and the Medes are worried. Artaxerxes might even fund a coalition to keep them occupied. We never should have fought them you know!”
Only Xenophon paid attention when he heard mention of the Laconians.
“What do you know about this? You’re just a soldier, like us.”
The old man looked at Xenophon and spat on the floor.
“I’m nothing like you, boy. I fought in the Alliance Navy for over twenty years until idiots like you back home sent us to war with the Laconians.”
Xenophon shook his head in disagreement.
“No, I never voted for that. I pleaded for people to vote against war. It was a war we would never win.”
Glaucon came over and sat with them both.
“It’s true. Xenophon went on and on at the time, and people didn’t believe him, not even me.”
The man looked at them both for a short while, and it was clear he was remembering something but he couldn’t quite work it out. He looked at Glaucon and then back to Xenophon.
“Wait, you’re Xenophon, son of Gryllus?”
Xenophon nodded.
“You were the Prefect of the Inner Ward if I’m not mistaken, after the war? Your father served with the Thirty during the reconstruction.”
Glaucon nodded to him.
“That’s right, and for their service his father was murdered by one of the Thirty. Now we we’re both on the watch list and can’t return home.”
Xenophon nodded miserably.
“All because of that bitch...”
“Montoya?” suggested the man with a questioning tone.
They both looked to the old man with a mixture of surprise and interest on their faces. Xenophon pulled himself closer to the man. Before any of them could speak, the door to the brig opened, and another two men were thrown inside.
“Stay in there with your friends!” snapped the guard. He locked the door shut behind him and walked away.
Xenophon waited until the guard ha
d gone before speaking.
“How do you know all this?”
“I told you, I used to be in the Alliance Navy, intelligence division.”
“What about Montoya? You heard about her?”
“Of course, in the last few weeks before the fleet was broken up, and the Alliance was disbanded, we saw her at Headquarters. There were rumours she was working with the Laconians before the surrender order was given. She’s a powerful figure in the civilian government now. It was clear then, either you worked with her, or you got out. I knew your father.”
“My father?”
“Yes, Gryllus and a small group of senior officials worked with us on a peaceful accord between Attica and the Laconians. It was a simple plan to allow a transition from a wartime state to one committed to peace with Laconia.”
Xenophon nodded in agreement.
“It’s true. I spoke with my father about this on several occasions. Most Attican officials wanted to fight a war of resistance after our defeat. Gryllus and his friends persuaded them on a course to avoid conflict. Montoya was always against this plan, for her it reduced her power. That’s probably why they made her one of the Thirty, a compromise to keep her quiet.”
The old man tilted his head as if to say that Xenophon might be right.
“Anyway, I heard a group of representatives from most of the main powers have been in talks with the Satrap Tissaphernes.”
Roxana now seemed intrigued.
“You mean the idiot we just helped at the Gates? Why would they be meeting him?”
The man smiled.
“That’s a good question. I do know that Secretary of State Montoya is there, as well as people from a dozen other states. The rumour is that he is assembling a coalition to buttress up against Lysander.”
Glaucon sighed.
“Old man, you seem to have a lot of information for a man that is now an imprisoned soldier on an Arcadian warship. Why would a regional Median commander be looking to fund a coalition of Terrans? Isn’t Cyrus already doing the same thing?”
“A good point, but this isn’t to do with what is happening here. It is to do with the Laconians. Have you not heard the news about Lysander?”
Two guards approached the door and looked inside. It appeared they were trying to find somebody. They were about to leave when one noticed the conversation between the group in the corner.
“Hey, shut it!” he barked.
They stopped and looked at him as did the many other prisoners, all of them looking at him and waiting. He looked at an electronic report in his hand. The corner of his mouth twisted upwards into a smile of satisfaction. A few more seconds and he looked back inside the brig.
“Calm down now, just a few more jumps and then we’ll be getting rid of you. Apparently, there are some people waiting to take a few of you back to your homeworlds. Who’s been a little naughty?”
The familiar feeling of the FTL drive started up again, much to the surprise of the guard and the prisoners. This time it was different, and a series of shudders shook the massive vessel followed by a loud grinding sound. It was similar to the rubbing of heavy metal together. Almost immediately after, the sound of the emergency alarms activated and the lights dimmed.
“Stay here!” shouted the guard and then he was gone.
Red lights flashed on, and the Titan quickly transformed from its sedentary state to one of a ship at battle stations. The brig was quickly deserted, and just a couple of guards stayed to stand at their posts. The rest grabbed armour and weapons from the lockers and exited through the single entrance to the brig quarter.
“What the hell is going on?” shouted one of the prisoners.
“Maybe it’s a mutiny. There’s a lot if dissatisfaction on board.”
Tamara leaned against the wall and placed her ear to the solid surface. She winced several times as she listened as best she could. Roxana moved towards her and started to speak. She was interrupted by a group of crewmen rushing in to check the firearm lockers. There was just one pulse pistol left, and the first woman to arrive grabbed it.
“Is that it?” asked one of the men with her.
“Yeah, come on, we need to get out of here!”
Another peered inside at them.
“Let’s go, they are coming this way!” he cried.
The group moved to the door before any of the prisoners even thought to speak. It came down to Tamara to get their attention as the woman with the pistol started to disappear through the gap.
“Hey, what’s happening out there?” she shouted.
The woman vanished but reappeared, peeking back inside. Her look suggested she hadn’t even noticed them in the cells, let alone had given them more than a few seconds consideration.
“We don’t know. There’s fighting on the ship and fires in the landing bay.”
She looked around the brig and slapped a large red button on the wall with the palm of her hand. She then vanished and left the prisoners to their fate.
“That’s just great!” muttered somebody in one of the adjacent cells.
A hiss reverberated through the brig and in perfect synchronisation, every single cell door slid open.
“Yes!” shouted Glaucon.
Xenophon reached out and held him back.
“Don’t be too excited my friend. Why did she release us?” he added.
“Who cares? Let’s go!” said Tamara excitedly. She was at the door and moving out into the corridor before the rest had even moved. Dozens of other prisoners rushed out, and in less than half a minute, the entire place was deserted. Xenophon, Roxana and Glaucon joined Tamara in the corridor. The sight that greeted them all left them speechless. A dozen bodies littered the ground, and splatters of blood covered one side of the corridor. Two men at the far end were dragging a third wounded soldier after them. A powerful blast shook the Titan with such a force that all of them were thrown hard against the wall.
“Uh, guys? What the hell can make a Titan do that?” asked Glaucon.
Xenophon said nothing, but his expression was all Glaucon needed to see. A clatter of small arms fire rattled out in the distance, but there was no easy way of telling quite how far away it was. As they stood against the wall, the old man from the brig appeared. Another violent shake threw them about, and he stumbled towards Xenophon. He grabbed him and pulled him to the side before he almost fell to the ground.
“You okay, old man?” he asked in an amused fashion. The man looked up and grinned.
“Kid, you can call me Marcus. You know those sounds are heavy pulse weapons, don’t you? This ship is in big trouble.”
Glaucon moved off down the corridor and vanished into the smoke but quickly reappeared. Several bright flashes behind him gave the impression he was jumping back from a violent storm.
“We need to get out of here, let’s do it!” he cried.
He turned back to the smoke and vanished, quickly followed by Roxana. The others did the same and left the brig behind. As they moved their way along the corridors, they passed many more dead or injured crew. Some were badly burned but most showed firearms injuries. Marcus knelt down and examined one of the casualties of whatever battle seemed to be raging.
“This is odd. He’s carrying webbing and ammunition but no weapons.”
No weapons, what happened here? Xenophon thought.
Tamara jumped back, looking in vain for somewhere to hide. She looked at the others with a desperate look on her face.
“Somebody is coming!”
There was nowhere to hide, and even as they looked about, a stream of dozens of the crew dashed past at the end of the corridor and kept moving. One collapsed to the ground not far from Tamara, and then they were gone. The clatter of gunfire continued. Xenophon spotted a weapon on the floor and reached out to grab it. He pulled the sling towards him and lifted the carbine up to his face, checking the safety was off and there were rounds still in the magazine.
“Anybody got a suggestion?” he asked.
&nb
sp; “I know the way to the evacuation deck. It’s about eighty metres from here, one level up and near to the port observation deck. But there’s one problem.”
Xenophon leaned in closer.
“Yeah, why am I not surprised?”
“There is one armoury on the way, so we might run into trouble.”
Glaucon nodded in agreement.
“Maybe, but we’ve already run into trouble. We might even get our hands on some weapons. I say we do it and fast. We need to get somewhere safe, arm ourselves and then try and find out what the hell is going on.”
Xenophon pulled back the bolt on the carbine and locked in the first multi-pulse round. The weapon was now ready for use. He looked up to the others.
“Good point. Is this a prison revolt, a coup or is the ship breaking apart?”
“I suggest we get moving and find out for ourselves,” suggested Roxana.
With unspoken agreement, they moved out from the corridor and took the first turn to the left. Marcus moved close behind with Xenophon and their single firearm. The sound of gunfire and battle continued along with the occasional blast that shook the Titan. It took several minutes for them to reach a wide open space that was the main level hub with elevators, ramps and staircases leading to a dozen different levels. The damage from battle was everywhere. Pulse rounds, discarded magazines and dozens of bodies lay scattered. It was one of the more attractive parts of the ship. At least it had been prior to the recent violence. The elevators used tube like tunnels to move about the ship, whereas the ramps were more oval in shape and ran like arteries through the vessel.
“Which way?” asked Xenophon. He dropped to one knee, lifting the weapon to his shoulder to better to stabilise himself in readiness for the inevitable attack on their position. The sight used a special overlay system that incorporated a simple optical sight as well as a projected tactical overlay. Sadly, it seemed to be non-functional, so he was forced to use just the mechanical optics.
“That way!” replied Marcus, pointing to one of the oval entrances that led up. He grabbed one of the many discarded weapons and moved for the ramp. The others did the same, picking up the nearest weapons they could find. The sound of battle became louder the closer they moved to the next level. Another two blasts shook the ship before they reached their destination. It was more spacious than before, and a number of fires were spreading smoke. Glaucon looked around the corner and pulled himself back.
Black Legion: 02 - Assault on Khorram Page 4