“Now!” cried Xenophon.
He jumped around the corner and charged into the dust, unable to see a thing. Behind him followed Glaucon, the Dekarchos and half a dozen more stratiotes who assumed the area was now clear. Xenophon reached within two metres of the fortified entrance before he was able to see inside. It was a thick stone archway. A tripod mounted heavy pulse cannon was fitted in the centre, around which four men operated it. Xenophon shouted out and jumped at them, firing from both of his Asgeirr-Carbines. Two of the men were cut down, but the other two were able to open fire. Glaucon and Xenophon were past the gun and inside, but two of the men following took the gun blast and vanished in the dust.
Unable to turn the gun far enough, the two Mulac gunners drew fighting blades and attacked Xenophon and Glaucon. The Dekarchos jumped inside and blasted away at the weapon emplacement with his carbine and moved into the darkness.
“Watch out!” shouted Glaucon, as he spotted the first Mulac driving a blade towards Xenophon. He parried it to the left and then stabbed his right hand with its extended blade into the alien’s chest. The monofilament point of the precision blade easily burst through the armour and embedded itself almost its full length inside. The two stumbled to the ground, leaving just one. Glaucon ducked past the creature’s attack and locked its arm, spinning it around. It was a classic move he and Xenophon had practiced in their training back home. He twisted the arm behind its back and then pushed down hard, neatly snapping the bone. It cried out, but its sound was cut short by the wounded shape of Pasion appearing. He jumped inside, his shimmering body shield on and his carbine in one hand. Blood dripped from two wounds to his shoulder.
“Animals!” he screamed and blazed away, and dozens of the rounds cut into the Mulac.
It was over in seconds, and the enemy strongpoint was theirs. From inside, it was clear that the doorway was one of many minor entrances that led into the heart of the mountain. A tunnel ran inside and into a large hexagonal room about fifty metres wide. It was difficult to see what else was there due to the blasts of gunfire. The Terran warriors, buoyed up by their success, rushed in and ran directly into the path of a dozen Mulac warriors. Gunfire moved back and forth as the weight of numbers prevailed.
Komes Pasion signalled for them to stay close to the walls. He tried to move forward, but whatever wounds he had sustained must have caught up with him. He slumped down, his breathing heavy and his face pale. Two of his bodyguards knelt beside him while a third connected a medical diagnostic device to the port on his forearm. The wounded Komes looked up to see Xenophon and Roxana nearby.
“Dekarchos!” he called out.
They looked at each other and then at those around them. The dekarchos were split among the rest of the group and none within earshot.
“Yes, you two. Come closer!” he snapped.
It wasn’t clear if he was dazed, confused or just being plain irritable. Even so, they both moved to the man. The gunfire had dropped to a trickle as the Terrans secured the level. The Komes was about to speak, but one of the senior Dekarchos, a man called Calum, approached and knelt down beside him.
“Komes. The lower level is secure. There is a large access tunnel leading up to the higher levels. There is only one way up.”
“We need to get up there, and fast,” added Xenophon.
A low rumble from further down the mountain signalled the approaching Mulacs. As if to emphasis the urgency of their situation, a volley of rockets exploded outside the archway into the lower level.
“I’ll hold them off down here. You go!” said Roxana.
The Dekarchos looked at her and then to his Komes who simply nodded at him.
“Assault the higher levels, destroy the weapon and get Clearchus down here, fast!”
His eyes fluttered and he passed out of consciousness. Roxana bent down to check his breathing. She waited a moment and sighed.
“He’s breathing.”
The Dekarchos signalled to the guards to help carry the wounded commander into the relative safety of the lower levels. Roxana and Xenophon followed them and into the large, hexagonal room that marked this level of the mountain stronghold. In the middle of the room was a pit that filled nearly half the space. Xenophon leaned over its precarious edge and looked down. It was pure black. Taking a small rock from the ground, he dropped it, only for it to take an age before a gentle clunk signalled its landing.
“Let’s not fall down there,” suggested Roxana.
The guards dragged the Dukas to the far side of the room and at the base of the tunnel. It was a more recent addition and in a much better state of repair to the entrance. At a point of fifty to sixty metres up the tunnel, it split into a series of corridors and rooms.
“We’ll need time to find the weapon or its power source,” said the Dekarchos. He glanced at Xenophon and Roxana.
“You’re the stratiotes that blew the wall, right?” he asked.
Xenophon nodded.
“Good, you’re with me. Roxana, you know your way around command, don’t you?”
“I was an officer with the Alliance.”
“Yeah, I heard that. Rumour has it you were at the last battle around Attica.”
“We both were,” added Xenophon.
“I need experience, and most of these are newly recruited commanders. I’m giving you a field promotion, Roxana Devereux. From now, you’re a junior Dekarchos in the unit.”
He stood up and waved over to the other leaders. Most of the stratiotes took cover and watched for any signs of the approaching Mulacs. Several of the commanders had already been killed on the ascent, leaving just a handful to move back. Once gathered around the wounded Pasion, he began.
“Stratiotes Devereux has been promoted to junior Dekarchos. She is the most experienced of you all. I want her plus half of the unit to stay behind and keep the Mulacs busy. Start in this room.”
He extended both arms and looked about the large hexagonal room.
“Use crates, junk, even bodies, and fortify the area. You need to buy us the time to get to the higher levels, and take out the weapons. Understood?”
They nodded in silent agreement and jumped into action. The room itself contained a number of crates and abandoned or broken down machines and equipment. With over thirty stratiotes on the one level, they made quick progress. Tamara and Jack threw themselves into work and helped barricade the doorway, and at the same time doing their best to avoid the sporadic gunfire from the Mulacs outside. Jack chanced a quick looked out of the door and barely made it back inside, as a dozen shots smashed around the arched doorway.
“They’re massing for an assault, so whatever you’re going to do, do it fast!” he shouted.
Dekarchos Calum nodded and moved to the tunnel, closely followed by Xenophon, Glaucon and almost thirty more stratiotes. Komes Pasion and his guards stayed where they were, helping to protect the commander and their position. Xenophon moved into the tunnel to feel a hand grab him. He spun around to find Roxana pulling him forward. He was taken so by surprise that he almost struck her with his Asgeirr-Carbine. She planted her lips firmly against his and pulled him against her body. It was a brief moment, and Xenophon was speechless. She stepped back and moved to her group, looking over her shoulder.
“Don’t do anything stupid. I’d like to see you again, and in one piece.”
Xenophon looked back to the tunnel to see his old friend Glaucon smiling, almost sniggering at him.
“About time, old son!” he laughed.
* * *
Multiple streams of pulse cannon fire blasted into the sky around the group of dromons. A single round was easily capable of tearing a metre-wide gash in any of them. The longer they stayed in the air, the greater the chance they would be struck. The lead craft was the command dromon crewed by Clearchus, and it already showed several sections of minor damage on its fuselage.
“How close are we to the landing zone?” asked Clearchus to the kentarchos of the dromon.
The of
ficer checked his display. He pressed several buttons and checked the vessel’s navigation readouts. A green tunnel indicated their path through the energy field and down to their landing zone. With a final check, he twisted his head to look over to his commander.
“Seventeen minutes, Strategos. We hit the shield in just under a minute, and then we cut the electronics and glide on in. We can use our mechanical thrusters to provide extra thrust. It’s not enough for powered flight, but it does mean we can come in lower and faster.”
The pilot looked concerned, and that worried Clearchus. He wasn’t a man that left anything to chance, and the idea of crashing and burning was one he was keen to avoid.
“Can you do it?”
“No problem. It won’t be easy, but these birds are designed to make glider landings from breaking orbit. That’s what they were originally built for, back in the day.”
“Understood,” replied the Strategos. He nodded in satisfaction and turned to his personal unit waiting patiently inside the vessel. They were the best of the Laconians, and that meant they were the best that existed, at least in the eyes of the Terrans. The warriors wore the uniform of the Ten Thousand along with the armour, helmet and accoutrements of the Laconian infantry. Clearchus looked at them with a mixture of comfort and pride. He had no doubt there wasn’t a single obstacle they couldn’t overcome. He exhaled and thought about the Citadel, trying to imagine the battle that Xenias must have become involved in. His mind was so busy that he barely noticed Kleandridas indicating towards the mapping unit.
“Strategos, I have information from Pleistoanax. He says he has received reconnaissance data from high level probes that indicate something big is happening at the Citadel.”
“Big?” Clearchus asked.
“Energy output, radiation levels and communication traffic. So far he has been unable to pinpoint anything specific, but it looks like a massive ground operation is ongoing.”
“Dukas Xenias, he must be in trouble,” added Clearchus.
Kleandridas nodded and moved the map to show their landing area.
“Tactical analysis shows the main peaks around the Citadel would be ideal locations for aerial defence and artillery. My suggestion is to drive to the Citadel, and then attack the primary peak here.”
The lower peak filled the screen; it was small compared to its cousins around it but still a large structure.
“This is the source of the energy shield. Once eliminated, we can make use of the high ground at these points to mount temporary heavy weapons.”
He selected the open channel that would put him through to all the Komes and dekarchos in the force. He took a breath and a final glance at the skyline.
“This is Strategos Clearchus. We will break the shield barrier in a matter of seconds. Check your gear, and prepare for combat landings. Speed is paramount. We must reach the Citadel as quickly as possible. Xenias and his people are depending on us.”
Alarms triggered inside the dromon, followed by the lights dimming and the sound of the vessel’s system cut to silence. All that remained were the loud rumbles coming from the turbulence and friction of the dromon moving through the air. Kleandridas looked at him.
“This is it,” was all he said.
A bright red aura ripped through the interior, starting at the front of the craft and then moving to the rear. It was all over in less than a second. Clearchus felt the nose of the dromon drop as they countered the lack of power from the engines by sacrificing height. Luckily, they were of sufficient height and travelling at the correct speed to allow them to reach their destination without the use of the engines.
“Look!” shouted Kleandridas over the tremendous noise of the unstable transport as it hurtled downwards. With the electronic displays all out of action, they were forced to lift the blast shields behind the energy portholes; the tiny windows that all atmospheric craft were equipped with for such emergencies. Clearchus looked through his window and for the first time saw the Citadel and the surrounding peaks. Streaks of weapons fire flashed in all directions. The odd stray shot from the mountains also fired down at the dromons, but they were hard pressed to even find their range, let alone hit them.
What has Xenias run into? he asked himself.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Roxana and the surviving Night Blades had so far held off two assaults. The arched entrance had fallen nearly half an hour earlier, but they had managed to halt the Mulacs in the lower level. It had taken concentrated gunfire, and the use of their last few grenades to hold them back.
Jack, Tamara and three stratiotes dragged a heavy container into position. As they moved it, a dozen Mulacs rushed forward. At this distance, their heavy weapons and thick armour were proving extremely effective. Three made it to the container. The rest were cut apart by rifle volley fire. The first rolled over the top and dropped down behind the group. One stratiotes was decapitated in front of Jack, its blood spraying over his face. He lifted his carbine and fired almost a full clip of pulse ammunition into the second one, yet it staggered on and plunged the spiked bayonet into his chest. He stumbled back, crying out in pain.
“Get down!” cried Tamara, but Jack couldn’t hear over his own voice.
She swung her carbine over her head and smashed it down onto the creature’s arm. It barked in some strange alien language and knocked her back with its left hand. A blast of gunfire from Roxana struck it in the face, and the others withdrew to the nearest cover they could find. As Roxana was helping to drag Jack from the container, another wave of Mulacs charged forward. Roxana dropped the wounded Jack and raised her rifle.
“Stop them!” she screamed.
* * *
Xenophon crept out from the tunnel into what looked like a massive generator complex. Pipes, cables and machines seemed to be everywhere. The rest of the unit fanned out. They were all looking for the critical machine or item that would shut down the shield.
“What now?” asked Glaucon.
Dekarchos Calum moved out into the open along with most of the stratiotes. Without shields, they were vulnerable but also hard to spot in the gloom of the cold level. An icy chill blew in from the large arched windows running along the outer rim on one side.
“Wait,” said Xenophon as he spotted a series of massive power couplings. They were several metres thick and ran from a point in the wall to a large junction about thirty metres away. Many other similar couplings led to the same place. Above their heads, they could feel the throbbing of the generator. It continued to send out its deadly pulse that shielded the Citadel for kilometres in all directions.
“I see it!” called out the Dekarchos.
He rushed forward and into the centre of the room. Xenophon watched the direction he was moving in and spotted a structure the size of a ship. It was placed behind a dozen thick stone columns and flashed with red energy. In front of the device were dozens of figures busy working on the great machine. One must have spotted them because a line of yellow lights flashed. Dekarchos Calum and five more stratiotes were cut to ribbons.
“Come on!” Xenophon shouted.
He moved off to the right and hugged the wall. Glaucon and another half a dozen warriors followed close behind. The remaining stratiotes in the open were forced to take cover from the withering defensive fire. They were quick, and their accurate rifle and carbine fire proved effective against the small number of Mulacs. The group led by Xenophon made it around the outside and almost to the pillars when a large metal door hissed open. Stood in the centre was the massive hulk of a Mulac, but this one was different. At almost half a metre taller, he was evidently a commander, and perhaps even their leader. Like the other Mulacs, he was encased in armour but his more far more elaborate and much thicker across the neck and chest.
“Get down!” cried one of the stratiotes, but it was too late. The monster of a warrior leapt between them and swung a mace-type weapon. The first impact struck Glaucon in the shoulder, instantly dislocating the arm and throwing him to the groun
d. He swung again, and this time struck one of the younger stratiotes. Each impact rang out, and almost like a bar of metal striking a gong. The group of Terrans were poorly equipped to deal with such a beast, especially due to the preference for long-ranged weapons. More noise came from the tunnel as another dozen Mulacs, all carrying firearms and edged weapons, surged inside and overwhelmed the Terrans.
“Get to the pillars!” shouted Xenophon, instantly recognising the benefit the cover could provide. He rolled low and stabbed at the nearest Mulac. His Laconian weapon proved its worth and punched neat holes into the alien’s armour plating. Two more Mulacs spotted his success and jumped over to deal with him.
“I don’t think so!” he snapped and lifted both hands. The built-in carbines proved their worth and cut the Mulacs down in a hail of armour piercing projectiles.
Glaucon lifted himself from the ground and angrily barged himself into the wall. It was a savage and painful way to set his arm, but it worked. He grabbed a fallen Mulac’s mace and rushed into the middle of the melee. His skills, speed and strength quickly told as he felled the nearest two Mulacs. The remaining warriors in the rest of the level now met, and a sprawling melee spread throughout the structure. With roughly equal numbers, it came down to the speed and experience of the Terrans versus the strength, violence and brutality of the Mulacs.
Glaucon and Xenophon pushed as far ahead as they could but were stopped by the remaining Mulacs who blocked their route to the columns, and the prize that lay behind it. Xenophon used the last of his ammunition to cut down two more Mulacs, but there were enough the fill the gap.
“We have to get through!” he cried out.
One of the stratiotes fell near Glaucon’s feet, a Mulac landing on top and smashing away with a mace. Glaucon kicked the beast over and brought his own weapon down on its face. Blood sprayed up and hit him in the forehead and eyes. He twisted and spluttered.
Black Legion - The First Trilogy Page 25