Black Legion: 02 - Assault on Khorram

by Michael G. Thomas

  “Ariaeus, I’m glad to see that you are well. What are you doing on the station and more importantly, where are your ships?”

  “Lord Cyrus,” he replied, bowing in an extravagant fashion, much to the amusement of the assembled Terrans. The Medes moved with the grace and elegance that every Laconian on the deck considered to be feminine.

  “Upon my arrival, we conducted a series of scans to establish the viability of harvesting resources for the fleet. We were about to contact you when the sentry fleet and base turned on us. I lost three ships in the first minute and was about to withdraw when I picked up the signal.”

  His statement surprised everybody, including Clearchus. Lord Cyrus looked to the Laconian with a raised eyebrow and then looked back to Ariaeus.

  “I see, go on.”

  Ariaeus signalled to somebody out of sight, and a few seconds later a Median nobleman appeared. Even the Terrans recognised the clothing and lavish decorations on the man that marked him out as nobility.

  “Menon?” asked Cyrus in surprise.

  The stranger bowed, though by no means as low and as over the top as the bow of Ariaeus. Clearchus racked his brain, trying as hard as he could to remember the lineage of Cyrus, but the name still made little difference to him. Cyrus continued speaking with him when Kybernetes Ditha Artell approached. He stood to the side of the Laconian leader and handed him a small electronic slate. Clearchus glanced down to see an image of the newcomer, along with critical information direction from the Laconian Intelligence Archive. The part that caught his attention was that the man was flagged as a rogue Satrap of one of the inner provinces. The last data said he had been operating a unit of Median corsairs out on the border. He looked to the conversation and listened carefully.

  “My Lord, the Imperial Fleet has been sent away for manoeuvres. I don’t know what is happening, but it appears they are massing for a major exercise.”

  Clearchus was already suspicious of Ariaeus, and this new character did nothing but heighten his doubts about everything the Medes said to him. He lifted his hand and jumped into the conversation.

  “Menon, what about the defence of this area? Why is it so insignificant? Surely a resupply station this far inside the Maelstrom should expect a reasonable defensive force?”

  Menon ignored him and looked to Cyrus. Clearchus fumed at the insult, but the Medes commander could see what was happening and instantly diffused the situation.

  “Answer him,” he snapped.

  “My lord, this site is insignificant to the Empire. We have hundreds, no, thousands of similar sites all around the Empire. Nothing more than remote sentries and combat drones are needed for their defence.”

  Clearchus snorted in derision.

  “Really? I suppose Ariaeus was unable to overcome them, though they put up little resistance to our forces. Even so, where is the rest of your fleet, Ariaeus?”

  Ariaeus looked about suspiciously, and Clearchus instantly detected a plan, a double-cross of some kind. It wasn’t just the look that he saw, it was the feeling of hidden contempt they showed, and not just for him but also Cyrus.

  “Strategos Clearchus, most of my forces were busy in pursuit of the retreating forces. We were able to stop most getting away, so the rest are engaged with their last few cruisers two sectors away. That is when I received the signals from Menon who had managed to escape from capture on the station and was calling for assistance.”

  Clearchus looked to Cyrus, and although the Medes commander said nothing, he could tell that he also didn’t believe a word Ariaeus was saying. He opened his mouth to continue pursuing this subject, but Menon interrupted him first.

  “Yes, your fleet is impressive in size. Even so, the Imperial Fleet will dwarf yours, and your attack on this station will have alerted high command. It would be advantageous, in my opinion, to reinforce this area and ready your forces for a confrontation that is more favourable to your, ah...diminutive size. Or, it might be advisable for you to withdraw back to Terran territory.”

  He glanced briefly to Ariaeus who whispered something quietly before continuing his short speech with Cyrus.

  “Whatever you are planning, the Emperor will now be fully aware that Ariaeus is in this sector and commanding a fleet. He knows that Ariaeus is a close ally of yours, and that makes him at the very least hostile to his policies, and perhaps even an enemy.”

  Clearchus burst into a rage at this suggestion. First the Medes insulted his forces, but then implied they would have to dig in or retreat.

  “Are you telling me the station was not jammed during your little foray?”

  Ariaeus didn’t seem remotely bothered at the accusation, and his indifference simply enraged the Laconian commander even more. Ariaeus looked to Menon before answering his question.

  “We were surprised, as I explained earlier. It wasn’t until your forces arrived that a containment area was successfully completed. Perhaps if you had arrived when I requested, this would not have happened?”

  Clearchus turned to Cyrus and pulled him back from the display.

  “This is treason. Your man has wilfully notified the enemy of our operation through his actions and...” he walked closer to the screen to glare at the men, he then looked back to Cyrus, “...indifference to the chain of command!”

  The tension on the command deck was palpable, and most of the officers tried to continue their work without drawing attention to them. It was perfectly obvious to all involved, however, that their commander was livid and liable to smash or break something. Menon looked to Cyrus and continued speaking; it was clear he was checking for agreement before going further.

  “My Lord Cyrus, it might be politic for you and your deputies to come aboard the station. We have managed to gain access to large parts of the Imperial Command Network. I can perhaps provide geographical and technical assistance to whatever your little enterprise is.”

  Ariaeus nodded furiously in the background, evidently very keen on getting Cyrus onto the recently captured station. It wasn’t easy to see what was happening behind them as there were at least half a dozen destroyed machines in view. Cyrus looked to Clearchus and considered his options carefully before speaking. It looked as though he winked at Clearchus before turning back to the screen.

  “I will come aboard within the hour. Please ensure you have a full and detailed briefing for me upon my arrival.”

  Clearchus indicated for the Auletes to cut the communication feed to the station, looking to Cyrus for confirmation. The look on his face was a mixture of contempt for the two Medes he had seen on the display and anger at their current situation.

  “Yes, I know what you are thinking Clearchus...and you are right of course, something isn’t right, and Menon is not to be trusted.”

  The rest of the senior officers returned to their station, apart from Cyrus, Clearchus and Kleandridas. The group of three moved away from the main display and towards a thickly reinforced bulkhead on the right side. Either side on the wall were two large hexagonal shapes; the entrances to escape tunnels for use in emergencies. There was also a command weapons locker that was locked. Only Cyrus paid it any attention when his eyes were drawn to the oddly curved blade that sat inside. He noticed Clearchus watching him and smiled calmly.

  “An odd set of weapons to have on the command deck?”

  Clearchus smiled back.

  “If they get this far inside, then it is going to be up close and bloody. These kinds of weapons are perfect for fighting on board a ship.”

  He rubbed his chin with the back of his hand as he thought about the conversation with the Medes on the station. Cyrus’ position wasn’t clear, that was certain, but neither did he seem overly keen on the two.

  “Well?” he asked.

  “Menon is an interesting one, have you heard of him?”

  Clearchus shook his head, and Kleandridas did the same. There was no sense in giving away what they already knew. At least that was what Kleandridas assumed his commander was doing.


  “This man is considered an enemy of the state in my Empire. For years he has run a lucrative slave trade out on the border. The trouble is he has been caught selling all races, even Medes to anybody prepared to pay.”

  Kleandridas looked highly confused at his explanation.

  “It still doesn’t make sense. What is he doing here, and why was he on an unmanned station with nothing but combat drones?” asked Kleandridas.

  Cyrus said nothing.

  What is he hiding? Clearchus wondered. He was starting to understand the histories he had read as a child. These people cannot be trusted!

  “They wish us to meet them on the station, and this sets a precedent whereby your deputy and my ally are starting to call the shots. What if he has his own plans, ones that are incompatible with our own?”

  Cyrus nodded slowly in agreement. He looked back at the deck and noticed how the Terrans returned to their posts and duties like insects. Each of them had a job to do, and nothing would distract them. He thought back to the two that awaited them on the station. It was odd, even peculiar, that he felt safer, even more at home on this human warship than he did with his own people. He was, after all, not even human. Kleandridas whispered into the ear of Clearchus. He didn’t say much, but whatever he said, the Laconian commander seemed to like it. Cyrus looked at Clearchus and tried to gauge the Terran’s thoughts. He couldn’t work it out, other than the man seemed to have regained his confidence.

  “Strategos, I take it you have a plan?”

  Clearchus was certainly never keen to show his emotions, but the wide grin on his face told him everything he needed to know. The Strategos had a plan, and the more he heard about it, the more he liked it.

  * * *

  Aronton Automated Station, Aronton Sector

  Ariaeus and Menon looked at the tactical display from the safety of the executive office on the secondary deck. The video feed from their communication with the Terran Titan was now closed, and they were both able to relax. Menon waved his arm, and two of the damaged combat drones lifted themselves up and stood motionless near the slaver.

  “There, you see, my drones are more than capable of functioning, even after multiple pulse impacts.”

  Ariaeus nodded in agreement. The machines were of a similar size to a Terran but much broader in the upper body. They lacked complicated hands, and instead were equipped with low velocity pulse weapons and blades. It was clear they were designed to be resilient but limited in their abilities. After all, who wanted machines that could turn on their own side?

  “Impressive, truly impressive. How many more did you say you have on board?”

  Menon seemed happy to have his personal forces considered so highly. He tapped a button on the computer system that showed a detailed schematic of the station. He waved with his arm at key points.

  “Well, your forces destroyed two dozen during your landing. They were just my scouts, and more for show than anything else. I have two companies of them throughout the station, and they are rather more impressive than these fellows.”

  He explained while waving his hand at the small number stood nearby.

  “The heavier models are slower but much tougher. Even Imperial Anusiya have had a difficult time facing them. They will be more than a match for your Terran friends. They certainly had no trouble when we arrived here.”

  The mention of the station reminded him of his surprise when he landed to find no living occupants, just a small number of scout drones that immediately opened fire. It had been a short fight and not least because Menon had contacted him via the station’s communications system to agree to a ceasefire.

  “You never did tell me what happened to the Imperial crew and troops stationed here. As I understand it, a station of this size should have in excess of over a thousand crew, plus a garrison of a hundred Median ground troops. Where are they?” he asked. Although he wanted to hear something positive, he knew deep down that Menon had no love for Imperial forces and would just as likely murder the entire garrison as set them free.

  “You heard me. They have been shipped off with the fleet.”

  Ariaeus considered pushing the question further but decided against it, that was a discussion for another day. He looked back to the schematic and examined the key points in case of trouble. He knew Clearchus too well, and though he had no respect for the human, he fully understood the man’s capacity to win infantry battles.

  “The first dromons are nearly here. I will prepare my drones, just in case,” said Menon.

  Ariaeus nodded and looked back to the display. The station was large and based around two main structures. The first was a large bowl-shaped construction with multiple landing bays and docking stations. The second was only a quarter the size and connected by a substantial support pylon that was wide enough for people or small vehicles to travel along. The executive office was situation high on the secondary structure and not far from the shield generator unit and living quarters. The large windows were unusual in that they were actually transparent material rather than the advanced electronic visualisation system used on ships. It presented a major structural weakness if hit from the outside, but the lips along the edges betrayed the hidden shutters that could whisk into position in the matter of a second. The station was solid and though damaged by the bombardment, was still fully operational internally.

  “What do you know of this human, Clearchus?” asked Menon.

  Ariaeus almost spat at the mention of the hated commander’s name.

  “He is like the rest of the Terrans, weak, arrogant and full of self-importance. When his species were busy fighting wars over water, we were busy spreading throughout the stars. I do not care what our scientists say, there can be no biological link that ties our species together, none!”

  Menon smiled at the anger of his fellow Medes. It was clear Ariaeus had more than a vested interest in what happened when it came to the humans. He had heard rumours about him but nothing conclusive.

  “Yes, but in my experience they do have their uses.”

  Ariaeus looked at him dispassionately.

  “Yes, your slaving exploits, charming. How soon can your forces be here?”

  “My corsairs are already on the way, and they will arrive within fourteen hours. All you have to do is keep them here until then, and this sector will be ours. Now, if I help you force back this Terran invasion, I will, of course, expect to be rewarded handsomely.”

  Ariaeus looked angrily at him. The implication that their prior arrangement was not enough was nothing but an insult to his honour. He shook his head and snapped back.

  “We already have an agreement. In exchange for your services, I will ensure you receive a full Imperial pardon for your involvement in some of your more regrettable actions in the past. This will grant you safe access to all Imperial colonies and facilities, even those you have previously had...disagreements with.”

  He stopped, but Menon lifted one eyebrow, waiting impatiently for confirmation of the rest of their simple arrangement.

  “Yes, and of course a licensed agreement to operate as a state sanctioned privateer, on the Terran-Medes border.”

  Menon looked happy with the arrangement and nodded in firm satisfaction.

  Ariaeus noted how pleased his opposite number looked with his bargain and was unable to resist the urge to add just one final barb, and one that he couldn’t wriggle out of, no matter how much he might want to. Menon might be somebody he needed to deal with, but that didn’t mean he had to like it.

  “Of course, as a citizen with a record of violence against the state, you will be required to pay a tithe of twenty percent of all recovered material direct to the local satrap of whichever region you are in. Ten percent stays locally, and the other ten goes directly to the Emperor.”

  “Twenty? Our agreement was for ten.”

  Ariaeus smiled back at him.

  “Nobody forced you to start your little operations against both our territory and that of the Te
rrans. You are required by Imperial Law to made reparation payments. You are, of course, welcome to stay and explain your actions to Cyrus. He will be here shortly.

  “And my station?”

  Ariaeus paused, knowing full well that his new partner had little bargaining space left. He needed the freedom to travel through the Imperium, but not as much as he needed his own neck.

  “We will discuss the station after we have dealt with Clearchus and his friends. Now, are your drones ready?”

  * * *

  The first dromon swept in passed the atmospheric shielding and landed deep inside the main landing area. It was a perfect example of precision flying, with the dromon itself landing in half the time it would take for even a small shuttle to normally do the exact same job. No sooner had the skids touched metal were the honour guard of spatharii unloaded. A full fifty-man unit, each an elite warrior from the Titan Valediction and dressed in Laconian armour. Against the bright crimson was the dark grey uniform of the Legion. They pushed out in a thirty metre wide arc in front of the vessel and activated their shields. A bright glow flickered in front of the formation that was now rendered almost impenetrable by the power fields.

  It took a second craft to bring in Clearchus and Cyrus, and even then only after the first had left and the landing zone was considered secure. As the next vessel arrived, another thirty warriors stepped out, but this time they moved out ahead in small skirmish groups of five. Cyrus and Clearchus stepped from the starboard door, both wearing their full regalia for the visit. Clearchus was taking no chances and was fitted out as if he expected a full-scale battle. The combination of thick armour and his large build marked him out as a monster of a man. In contrast, Cyrus was lithe and almost weak-looking in comparison. He also wore armour, but his was the close-fitting material worn by most senior Medes. Rumour had it that the armour could withstand even close range pulse fire, but Clearchus was dubious. He moved forward, but Cyrus held back, waiting for his own unit of Median bodyguards to move around him before stepping away from the dromon.