Black Legion - The First Trilogy

by Michael G. Thomas

  “Gunners, copy the shield skipping routine of our new gunner. We jump in sixty seconds, keep those turrets busy. Each one that is destroyed or fires at us is another ship of ours that can get home,” said the XO.

  He looked back to the displays and watched the small number of the Alliance making for the beacon. It was only a short journey, but a necessary one to allow them a safe, direct journey back home. Two cruisers managed to jump, but two more were caught in a devastating crossfire between three Laconian battleships. He winced as he watched the vessels tear apart in a violent series of explosions that wracked the capital ships from bow to stern.

  “They’ve adapted already,” called out the XO. “The battleship’s shield phasing has changed to what seems to be a random sequence. Concentrate your fire on incoming missiles; leave the shields to our cutters.”

  Xenophon was disappointed by the news. He was convinced he had found a working solution to the superlative protection offered by the layered shielding. As he considered the issue, he concentrated on the scores of torpedoes and missiles racing through the battle. The computer system could quickly identify likely targets for the missiles, and any that were heading for Alliance ships were flagged red.

  Let’s take them out, he thought confidently.

  By reducing the power levels of his guns, he was able to fire long bursts of over twenty seconds in one go. Streams of small bolts poured from the barrels and the curtain of energy shredded dozens of the weapons.

  “Keep going, almost there!” called the Commander, this time completely bypassing the XO who was evidently busy coordinating the fire of the cutters and fighter crews. Xenophon caught him out of the corner of his eye talking to the CAG, the commander of the fighter group on board the Valiant.

  “Hold tight, we jump in twenty!” he shouted.

  Twenty seconds, come on, we can do it!

  It was incredible, but after so little combat, he was now excited at the prospect of an ignominious defeat, providing it meant they lived to fight another day.

  I don’t want to die, he admitted to himself.

  Three more warships jumped in and started to blast away at the depleted shields of the Valiant. The difference in sound was vast, as the lasers, plasma and other energy weapons cut and burned their way through the armor and hull of the ship. Shield impacts sent a concussive ring through the ship, whereas the impacts against the ship seemed almost insubstantial. The alarm warnings and alerts through the deck told another story however. Xenophon blasted more missiles and then turned his attention on a small group of four Laconian bombers. These small vessels were difficult to hit but were heavily armed and a serious risk to the small ships out there. He managed to destroy the first and hit the engine of the second before a bellowing tone hammered at his head.

  “Cease fire! Five seconds to jump!” called the XO.

  Xenophon spotted one final bomber making its way to one of the scores of transports trying to escape. For a second he hesitated, and then sent a single, final burst of laser fire to the target. The stars blurred and then with a flash they were hurtling through space using their FTL engines.

  “All stations report in, I need engineering and casualty reports ASAP!” ordered the XO.

  Xenophon moved to disarm his weapon system but it didn’t matter, the command staff had already deactivated the capacitors and weapons control from the gunners.

  I wonder if the Laconian ships have such a problem with crew and security on their own ships?

  It was a constant source of both surprise and disappointment to him that although those citizens serving in the Armada had proven themselves many times, they were never given enough responsibility to excel in difficult situations. Each person had a fixed task and limited access to anything else. It was hardly surprising that Alliance ships were so over crewed; they needed far too many people to carry out the smallest of tasks. From what he had heard of the Laconian ships, it was the exact opposite. Rumor had it that they carried less crew, far less. Each member was better trained and expected to be able to carry out any role from navigation or engineering through to targeting and battle tactics. Plus, of course, every single Laconian was an expert fighter with edged weapons and firearms.

  He turned around to look up to the rest of the command centre. The Commander and the XO stood in the middle and watched as dozens of reports and messages came in from different parts of the ship.

  “Good work, people. Get your systems and crew patched up; we are heading home at maximum speed. Tankers are due to meet us at the first rendezvous point in approximately fifteen hours.”

  Xenophon looked back to his own display and brought up a map of this part of the galaxy. It contained limited data, but he knew from memory where most of the main Alliance bases were.

  Okay, Fort Plymouth is about two hundred parsecs from Attica, so that would take about fourteen or fifteen jumps to get home. So about two weeks, maybe less depending on how many tankers were available. This is going to be one long trip home.

  * * *

  Grandcruiser Valiant, Attica Nav Beacon, 11 Days Later

  “Action stations, due for arrival in T-Minus five minutes. All crew to your stations. This is not a drill, all crew to your stations.”

  Xenophon rolled out of his bed and barely managed to avoid crashing off the side and striking the ground. His temporary quarters were inside the forward weapons battery, a cramped location that seemed to be the warmest and most uncomfortable part of the ship. He dropped to the ground and immediately felt the pangs of plantar fascia on the base of his foot. The ligament that ran from under his heel to the front of the foot had started hurting in the last few days. It wasn’t serious and was probably related to the increased physical work helping with the repair and engineering on board the Valiant. But knowing what it was didn’t make him feel any better. He rubbed the foot for a second before the sirens woke him up.

  What the hell are you doing messing with your foot at a time like this? Get your backside to your weapon station and fast!

  He grabbed his webbing that contained his sidearm, communications handset and various tools. It wasn’t essential, but after what had happened on the station, he never wanted to face trouble without having options on his side. As he moved down the corridor, he noticed many of the other crew was doing much the same. Some carried belts with regulation sidearms thrust inside, and other carried first aid injection packs and drugs on them. One man marched past with what looked like an ancient boarding cutlass hanging from his side.

  Weird, he thought.

  Xenophon moved to his station and sat down. The screen was active and the weapons capacitors already charging up. They showed an active level of sixty percent and climbing. He pulled the straps on and started his checks. Then the weird sick feeling arrived, and he knew immediately that this meant they were coming out of light speed and must be nearing their destination.

  “This is the Captain. I have received word that all remaining Alliance vessels are in position around Attica Homeworld. We are the last ship of the line to make it here. The Lexington was destroyed during refueling three hours ago. We are it, people. All that stands between our home and the Laconian fleet. Check your systems and prepare for battle. Good luck.”

  Nice speech, thought Xenophon sarcastically, gazing at the planet as it came into view. The blurred dot grew in size until the ship slowed to what seemed like a halt near to the Attica Nav Beacon. Lights flashed up on his tactical display and showed him the location of friendly and enemy vessels based on configuration and IFF (Identify Friend or Foe) systems. It took only a few seconds for the data to fully register, and the final figures left a sick feeling in his stomach.

  The last battle of the war looked like it was going to be one of extermination rather than glory. Xenophon watched his displays and sighed at the sight of so few warships being able to defend the last area of space between the enemy and the Homeworld. With the Alliance fleet annihilated at Aegospotami a week earlier, there were now only
seven warships left to defend against an estimated Laconian fleet of nearly four hundred. On his display unit he could see nearly a hundred civilian ships moving into position around the beacon. He recognized at least three long distance passenger liners as well as over a dozen tankers.

  This isn’t a fleet. This is going to be a massacre. His heart was heavy with fear and also disappointment. It was only just over a week since his first glimpse of a battle, and now he was about to participate in the fall of the Alliance.

  “This is the Captain, ready your stations. They’re coming through!”

  The red emergency lighting came on, and the entire command centre darkened with the change. Xenophon looked up from his own displays. The walls around him were decked with display units that gave the impression they all sat in a glass room. He could see space, his homeworld and the assembled armada. Next to his targeting matrix was a full list of all Alliance vessels down to the size of lunar ferries.

  One hundred and seventy two vessels in total, and of those, only seven were warships. What are the transports going to do? Ram the enemy?

  A glimmer of movement caught his eye; at first it was nothing more than a smudge in space, but it quickly changed. The shape transformed into dozens then hundreds of larger shapes. In less than five seconds, a vast battlefleet appeared. At the centre of the dark horde was a Laconian Titan, the mightiest warship known to man. A myriad of colored lights flickered along the ships as guns, torpedoes and missiles systems activated.

  “Open fire!” shouted the Captain.

  The sheer number of targets available dumbfounded Xenophon. The other gunners were already blasting away at the nearest Laconian cruiser, a ship that was two-thirds the size of their own vessel. He selected a dozen key areas and fired bursts of laser fire. The great cutting beams of the primary lasers arced down into the ship’s hull and cut great chunks of metal from them. More shapes appeared to the right of his vision.

  More ships, this is it, he said to himself, now realizing that the end was just minutes away.

  The shapes coalesced into the form of three titans. As soon as they arrived, a dozen cutter beams fired out and towards the pitiful Alliance Armada. A dull rumble in the bowels of the Valiant indicated the engines were building up power. They were noisier than expected, possibly due to the engineers pushing them way past their design limits in readiness for the desperation of the battle.

  “Keep firing!” called out the XO as he marched about the deck, watching over the officers as they directed turrets and weapons batteries against the horde. Xenophon and the others selected target after target until the area of space around the Nav Beacon was aglow with energy beams and pulses of light. It was almost beautiful, apart from the myriad of exploding ships and wreckage that was starting to fill the area.

  “Fourteen ships down, Laconian boarding pods are en route,” called out the XO.

  Xenophon shook his head as he continued to blast away. Flashes along the shielding of the Titan showed he was having no effect. He turned his attention to the smaller fighters, frigates and torpedoes. His heavy laser turrets fared better, but he was under no illusions that the Titan would decide the battle.

  How did it all come to this?

  “Incoming!” called one of the women, but Xenophon couldn’t see who was talking. It was too late. Half of the command centre vanished with a blinding blue light. Alarms flashed everywhere. Xenophon pulled at his straps to release himself, but another blast struck him and his vision turned to darkness. He was unconscious before he hit the ground.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Occupied Attica

  It was three months since the surrender of the Alliance, and the citizens of the colony were still moving about their day-to-day business. He might be from one of the older, more conservative families, but that didn’t make him invulnerable. Though he had requested no security, it was obvious to him that he had at least two plainclothes officers trailing him. They were good, though Xenophon could hardly justify them. Well, he was neither a security or surveillance expert. Whenever he moved closer to members of the public, they seemed to drift closer, as if they expected trouble. He looked away and concentrated on his short walk instead. They had been watching him since he had left the transmit vehicle at the station and made his way inside the civic centre of the city.

  It’s weird, but if you think about it, how much has the city changed?

  A large display board caught his eye, one of the few visual changes to the city since the occupation. Normally it displayed rules, curfews and arrest warrants, but this time it was something different. He stopped alongside a dozen other citizens as they watched the screen. It showed a series of explosions and a city collapsing into a great fissure.

  “What’s going on?” he asked.

  An older woman continued watching but called over to him.

  “Laconia, there’s something happening on their homeworld.”

  Laconia? It must be another earthquake. Either that or their automaton slaves have rebelled again, he thought.

  He watched the unfolding disaster for a little while but with no information, it was just a series of explosions, eruptions and death. Hardly something he wanted to stand and watch for the rest of the day. He turned to leave, but one of the other citizens must have recognized him and blocked his path.

  “You’re one of the survivors aren’t you?” he asked.

  Great, just what I need, a democratic acolyte.

  Xenophon glanced about, suddenly feeling vulnerable in the street. It looked safe enough, but he had heard rumors of resistance groups looking to restore democracy. Of course, there was no chance of removing the Laconians by force. They were too strong and too well equipped. His way of assisting the Thirty was the quickest and safest way, but he knew deep down that the average citizen would not see it that way. He thought back to one of Earth’s ancient leaders whom he admired greatly, the British Prime Minister, Winston Churchill.

  What was it he said? Oh yes, I remember. It was something like the best argument against democracy is a five-minute conversation with the average voter. He almost laughed out loud at the wit and truth of it.

  In the distance, the plainclothes security men moved into position, and one seemed to be reaching down to something inside his jacket. He looked back at the man, but his interest seemed to already be waning, as though he thought he had made a mistake. Even so, the security men looked like they were about to draw firearms.

  I can stop this.

  He took a deep breath, moved one step closer to the stranger and into the line of sight of his guards. It was a risk, but he didn’t want the blood of his own citizens on his hands.

  “Yes, I am Xenophon.”

  The man nodded, and a wry smile appeared on his face.

  “I thought as much, you spoke after the surrender. You spoke out against violence during the occupation by the Laconians. Difficult decision.”

  Xenophon nodded, but said no more. He was already starting to have doubts about that day, but it would make little difference now.

  “Any way,” the old man continued, “I just wanted to say thank you for not running with the herd. I know most people here wouldn’t say that. I’m not most people, though. From one old soldier, I can tell you the Laconians won’t just go away because we throw a few rocks at them. They are a hard people, and they are not easily beaten. It was a mistake to go to war with them, but time will work against them. They are always vulnerable at home and they lack numbers. They don’t want to be here, just as much as we don’t want them.”

  Xenophon was intrigued. It was unusual to come across any citizen who had even the slightest inclination as to what was going on in the real world of politics.

  “Thank you, friend. Indeed, that’s why I voted against going to war.”

  “Really? Well, you were in the minority, then,” laughed the man.

  “You said, fought them? The Laconians, I mean,” asked Xenophon, now genuinely interested. There were fewer and fewer v
eterans of the old wars, and in his experience, they had much to offer in terms of wisdom and general anecdotes.

  “Yes, I was part of the Armada that defended our planet in the Archidamian War, right at the start of the Civil War. They came in strong that time, but we smashed them in orbit. Back then our fleet was invulnerable. We had double the ships and were faster, more agile and better armed. Those were the days when Alliance ships ruled the space lanes, and there was peace.”

  Xenophon nodded, recognizing the battle from his teachings by Kratez.

  “My mentor, Kratez, fought at that battle also. He said it was an example of how careful judgment and a steady hand could change the future,” he explained.

  “That is true. Kratez, did you say?”

  Xenophon turned his head slightly, intrigued that the man seemed interested in his old mentor.

  “Indeed, he is a good friend of mine.”

  “Fascinating. Yes, I knew him. Actually, he was the XO of my ship. As for timing and judgment, he was all hell and high-water back in the day. Well, when you see him again, let him know Critios says hello.”

  Xenophon nodded politely.

  “I will. I must apologize, though; I have to return to the civic centre.”

  The old man nodded in acknowledgement and stepped aside to let him pass.

  “I understand. Watch your back, young Xenophon. I know your heart is in the right place, but most here will see you as one of the anti-democrats. You know what the mob does to enemies of democracy.”

  Xenophon nodded and moved past the old man. He knew full well what the mob would do, and it had little to do with law or democracy.

  If democracy returns, then at the very least I’ll face exile at a public vote.

  He shook his head at the thought of being kicked out of his home. Even so, he knew he had saved many lives already by intervening rather than letting Laconian forces carry out their duties in the city. His local security forces were infinitely preferable to heavy infantry on the streets; at least he hoped they were.