Black Legion - The First Trilogy

by Michael G. Thomas

  In the darkness, he could only make out the coloured shapes of the other Terrans through his helmet’s thermal imagining equipment. The greatest hit came from the remains of the destroyed drones and their weapons systems that were almost white hot from the sustained fire they had put down.

  “Komes, look out, there’s...!” cried one of the elite warriors before taking the impact of a guided missile fired by one of the remaining drones. The Komes shook his head angrily and surged forward along with the other Terrans as they pushed towards the breach. Pulse fire continued to rain down on them, but with the gap they were able to flank the machines, and in less than a minute the route was clear. Only two more casualties were sustained in the attack, and Clearchus could only hope they would recover in due course. But for now, they had to conclude the operation.

  “Keep moving, we need to secure the Medes traitors,” he ordered and stepped forward slowly. No more signals were showing on his thermal imaging, so he switched the gear off and swapped to the powerful shoulder-mounted lamp. Komes Artemis stepped near him, his own Asgeirr-Carbine ready for whatever he might face.

  “My brothers, switch to lamps and watch for friendlies. I don’t want any accidents down here,” he said quietly, doing his best to let the communication node do the work, rather than his voice.

  The area of multicoloured shapes transformed into a mixture of bright spots and moving shadows. It took a few seconds for the warriors to adjust their eyes to the change as they examined the area for signs of the enemy. It appeared clear, and the hallway expanded as they became nearer to their objective. The Terrans were now jogging, and keen to make it before any other surprises appeared. Clearchus ran with them and moved his head from left to right, looking for danger behind every container and bulkhead rib. His node hummed in his skull.

  “Kleandridas here, we’re still pinned down, what is your status?”

  Clearchus stopped, and the other Terrans slowed to a halt, dropping to their knees and moving their shields to protect themselves.

  Kleandridas, I have almost forgotten, he thought.

  “We’ve broken through and heading to the executive area. Stay where you are, and keep the drones busy. Do not assault them, I repeat, do not assault them.”

  “Affirmative.”

  Clearchus indicated with his hand for the spatharii to keep moving. Any other nation might be wary of giving such a simple, almost passive order to their soldiers. But Clearchus knew Kleandridas would obey and not do something stupid just for his own personal glory. For him and his Laconian people it was always about the collective, and not the individual. They moved a short distance further before taking a burst of pulse fire from an unseen assailant. The Terrans beat aside the gunfire and pushed on. It was much lighter fire than that they had sustained at the hands of the drones. Komes Artemis signalled towards entrance.

  “Strategos, they have erected a defensive screen at the entrance to the main executive lounge.”

  His announcement was met by a stream of pulse rounds clattering about the Terrans. Clearchus barely flinched at the sound and examined the entrance with great concentration. He counted the muzzle flashes and rate of fire before even speaking.

  “It’s a triple-barrel sentry mounting. Just hit it with heavy fire, it won’t last long.”

  The Komes nodded and passed on the order to the rest of his men. Though they stayed behind the shelter of the energy fields, they did fire from the sides or above with their carbines. The combined firepower of dozens of carbines quickly silenced the sentry. The Komes was up on his feet and through the door with seven other warriors before Clearchus could reach it. As he entered the room, he was surprised to find Menon sprawled on the floor with Ariaeus stood over him, holding a standard Medes combat pistol.

  “Strategos, I am glad to see you here, finally.”

  Clearchus said nothing. He had expected resistance, but not this. One of the dekarchos stepped closer and bent down to examine the form of Menon lying on the ground. It didn’t take long, and he looked back with a grim expression on his face.

  “He’s dead, multiple pulse wounds to the back of the body.”

  “You shot him in the back? A nobleman, of your own race?” asked Clearchus.

  Ariaeus stood motionless and did nothing when one of the Terrans pulled the pistol from his hand. Clearchus glanced around, but there was nothing else, not even a single combat drone to protect the room.

  “Why?” he asked, but in his heart he was convinced the treacherous Medes had killed the man just because their own scheme had failed. He connected to Cyrus who was still safe and secure in the main landing area.

  “Lord Cyrus, the executive lounge is secure, and I am sending a security detail to escort you here. I have Ariaeus. Unfortunately, Menon is dead. It looks like we arrived a few minutes too late.”

  There was a slight crackle and then the faint voice of the Medes commander came back. Clearchus was forced to strain his hearing to make out the words. He missed the first part, but the second was clear and simple.

  “...gain access to the command and control systems as fast as possible. We must...”

  The audio crackled again and cut completely. Clearchus tapped his head near to where the node was fitted. It wasn’t surprising, much of the station’s defensive arsenal was still working, and the shielding around the access hatches remained active. The most obvious side effect was that transmission distance was cut to a fraction due to the massed interference.

  Clearchus stepped up to Ariaeus and thrust his right arm forward. His armour and uniform covered up the bulk of his body, but even that couldn’t disguise the great man’s strength and power. He grabbed the Medes around the throat, and in one swift movement began to squeeze. Caught by surprise Ariaeus gasped and struggled, but Clearchus was vastly stronger than him and no matter how hard he tried, he could not break the man’s hold.

  A junior spatharios called over from near to where Menon had been stood. He held up a metal computer system. It looked very much like the reconnaissance drone control units used in the military.

  “Strategos, this might be the drone control pad.”

  Clearchus looked up, but at that very moment he was much more interested in squeezing the life out of his hated enemy than worrying about the drones. It was only when he thought of his friend Kleandridas and his men that he remembered his duty. He relaxed his hold just a little and turned to the man.

  “Good work, see what you can do.”

  The soldier nodded and moved to Komes Artemis who was very interested in what he had found. As they examined the unit, the other spatharii spread out and searched the lounge area for anything else of importance. Clearchus returned to Ariaeus who now looked suitable chastened.

  “Now, you Median slime. Tell me what were you doing here, and why did you murder Menon?”

  Ariaeus coughed and spluttered as the Terran leader loosened his grip. Rather than speak, he used the chance to try and escape his grasp. He was fast and easily slipped from the loose grip and made immediately for the doorway. Dekarchos Anton spotted him and swung his left arm with his shield still on into his stomach. The impact was heavy, and Ariaeus crashed to the ground and crumpled into a heap. Clearchus smiled and stepped closer.

  “I won’t ask again, answer my questions or I will be forced to...”

  “Do what exactly, Strategos?” said a familiar voice.

  Clearchus turned to see the shape of Lord Cyrus and his Median bodyguard entering. The nobleman examined the room and quickly spotted the body of Menon on the ground. He stepped forward and spoke quietly.

  “This is unfortunate, very unfortunate.”

  He knelt down and examined the fallen Medes before standing back up and marching to Clearchus.

  “This isn’t how we conduct business in my Empire, understood?”

  Clearchus smiled back at him.

  “Lord Cyrus, it isn’t your Empire yet, and this animal has not only turned on Menon here, but on the entire Legion.”


  Cyrus looked at the Laconian commander and tried to work out why his two most senior commanders refused to get along. Ariaeus had a long and distinguished record with the Median military, and he had no reason to doubt his loyalty. On more than one occasion in the past the nobleman had saved his neck, even when there was no obvious benefit to doing so. Clearchus, on the other hand, was the most experienced and courageous Terran commander in recent years. The Laconians had lost a great General in forcing his exile. He sighed, but did his best to keep it to himself.

  Perhaps their egos are just too big to work together, he thought.

  “Ariaeus commands my entire Median contingent, and as you know, Clearchus, this represents the bulk of the fleet. Without his eyes and ears, we would be trapped many weeks, possibly months, inside Imperial territory. Don’t forget, he is not a great friend of Artaxerxes, and they have sparred on many occasions in the past. Why do you think he was so keen to join my expedition?”

  Clearchus was about to speak, but something inside him told him to hold back. It was one of his greatest undoings, his passion and rage, and it had often got him into trouble, no more recently than his little problem at the border world of Bissus.

  Yes, I need to leave politics to those with an appetite for it. My job is the command of the military cooperation, and a job always best left to Laconians.

  “I will defer to your judgement and experience, Lord Cyrus,” he replied with as straight a face as he could manage. Cyrus looked confused at his words, and perhaps expecting more of an argument from the man that obviously saw nothing good in Ariaeus. He scratched his check and indicated with his hand for his bodyguard to help the fallen Medes to his feet. They quickly lifted him up and moved him closer to Cyrus.

  “Now, my friend, I assume you have a good explanation for what has happened on this station?”

  A clanking sound from out in the main hall alerted them, and in just a few seconds the machine was inside. It was one of the heavy combat drones, and it took up position directly in front of Clearchus. It lifted its right hand in a mock salute. Clearchus had his right arm and Asgeirr-Carbine pointed right at its head.

  “What is this?” he demanded.

  “Uh, Strategos, I’ve managed to reset the configuration. There are seven drones still left, and all are now under our control.”

  Clearchus kept his weapon trained on the machine and cast a sideward’s glance to the spatharios who had been working on the control unit. The machine certainly appeared docile, but could he take the risk?

  “Shut it down, shut them all down!” he growled.

  The soldier didn’t hesitate and started the power down procedure. It was fast and obvious, as the drone slumped and any moving parts frozen up. The clicking sounds from within stopped, and by all accounts, it looked just as though it were a robot-shaped sculpture.

  “Strategos, what’s happening? The drones have all deactivated,” Kleandridas called out on the communications node.

  Clearchus allowed himself a small smile and answered.

  “We have Ariaeus in custody, and the drones are now under our control. Take your team and sweep the secondary structure for anything we can use. Intel on the enemy movements is the highest priority.”

  “Understood,” was the only response Kleandridas gave.

  Clearchus turned back to the Medes and concentrated his attention on Cyrus.

  “My Lord, we should take him aboard the Valediction for questioning. My forces will secure this station and strip it of anything of use.”

  Ariaeus lifted his hand to object.

  “Wait, this station is Imperial territory. We shouldn’t...”

  Clearchus pointed his Asgeirr-Carbine at his forehead.

  “This isn’t a discussion, Ariaeus. You go back with my unit, and we will have a nice long chat in due time.”

  The Terran soldiers marched away, taking the Medes commander with them. Cyrus waved them on, either too tired to object, or perhaps he had more pressing matters to attend to. Once Ariaeus was out of sight, Clearchus looked to him.

  “My Lord, I have concerns about Ariaeus. How sure are you that you can trust him?”

  Cyrus smiled in a way Clearchus had never seen before.

  “Clearchus, my friend, I trust nobody anymore than you do. He has helped me in the past, but when you come from a background like mine, you quickly realise that everybody is your friend, until it suits them otherwise. He boarded this station with at least thirty warriors, all loyal subjects and good fighters. Where are they?”

  He stepped closer to Clearchus so that only he could hear.

  “Oh...there is one other thing. This body, it isn’t that of Menon.”

  “What?” demanded Clearchus.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Vendetta, Su’bartu Maelstrom

  Artemas waited to the right-hand side of the bulkhead door while Xenophon covered the other side. They both stood with their now fully loaded pulse carbines. On their journey to the core engineering plant, they had come across a number of discarded weapons and finally, some ammunition for Xenophon’s firearm. She glanced briefly at the display on her arm and checked the status of the command part of the ship.

  “All okay?” asked Xenophon.

  She nodded, satisfied that they hadn’t been discovered.

  “No change...not yet.”

  Xenophon nodded and with a quick twist, unlocked the door and jumped through into the brightly lit room. For the briefest of moments, he was almost blinded by the quick change from darkness to full illumination. As his eyes cleared, he noticed half a dozen crew, and all were working away on the computer systems. A man in military fatigues spotted him and raised his weapon. Artemas rolled to the right and threw a device that struck him in the chest. With a dull crump and a bright blue flash, he collapsed to the ground, his body writhing in the shock of the electrical charge.

  “Are there any more?” she asked in a stern voice.

  An older looking man with a grease-smeared face and a bloody mark on his cheek stepped forward.

  “Just us, but you’d better hurry. They call down to check about every ten minutes, and he is due a call in about half of that.”

  “Dammit,” muttered Xenophon. He leaned down to the fallen man and reached out to check him.

  “Don’t do that, the residual current will take a few moments to wear off.”

  He stood back up and walked over to the nearest computer system. The older man blocked his path.

  “Hey there, Mister, what are you planning on doing?”

  Xenophon accessed the first screen that brought up the details for life support and main engine power generation. As usual, there was the triple level security system, but he was already through the first two before the old man could stop him.

  “If you screw something up there, you’ll kill us all,” he said worryingly.

  “Don’t worry. I know what I’m doing,” Xenophon shot back. He was in no mood to discuss his plans in detail with a stranger.

  “Look, I can see you have some skills, but this is my post. I’m the Chief Engineer, in case you hadn’t noticed.”

  Xenophon stopped and looked at the man. This was not the usual location for such a high-ranking man; he should be on the command deck with the rest of the senor staff.

  “Why are you here?” he asked, curiosity getting the better of him.

  “The upstart soldier boy, the one that turned on my crew, sent me down here. He wants all localised control transferred to him. I tried to delay, but he had his men cut down two of my boys.”

  He shook his head, the bitterness and pain evident in his face and body language. Xenophon understood exactly how he felt; there was nothing worse than the betrayal of your comrades by those supposedly on your own side.

  “I’m sorry. We’re here to turn things around, though. We need to shut off the engines and artificial gravity.”

  The Chief Engineer nodded.

  “That’s not a problem. Here, take one of these.
”

  He handed over a portable communications rig. It was more substantial than the equipment normally used on ships and was designed to break through even the thickest radiation layers in the vessel; perfect for engineering teams.

  “You leave us a firearm, and let me know when you’re ready. I can redirect power from the engines and anti-grav to the weapon capacitors.”

  “Why not just shut them down?” asked Artemas.

  He looked at her carefully and turned back to Xenophon.

  “Who the hell is this? She isn’t part of my crew, and she doesn’t look like any Terran I’ve ever seen before.”

  She bowed slightly for effect and introduced herself.

  “My name is Artemas, and I am here on special assignment to root out potential problems in the fleet.”

  Another crewman moved from behind one of the tall, stacked computer units and looked around her. Once close enough, Xenophon realised it was a woman, quite young and badly cut about the face.

  “A Medes agent working on board one of our ships, why should we trust her? She is probably the reason we’re in this mess already.”

  Another of the crew joined her, holding up a wrench, but this one seemed less sure of his position. Artemas tensed her body, and Xenophon could see she was on edge and ready to fight.

  Come on, this isn’t the way it needs to be, he thought, now worried their plan would fall at the first hurdle.

  Xenophon stepped in front of her and blocked Artemas from the woman.

  “Believe what you like, but we’re letting you all go. I suggest you stay with the Chief and keep out of our way. Once the gravity is off, we’ll only have a few minutes before they send people down here. Can the systems be rerouted anywhere else on the ship?”

  Artemas moved her left arm forward so that the crew could see the display. It flicked between the different feeds from the bugs. The Chief examined it carefully and almost cried out when he saw one of the crew being dragged into the command deck by two gruff looking soldiers. He lifted his left hand up and touched his brow.

  “I…I don’t understand. He is one of the Legion, like you, so why would he turn on our own like this? What can he possibly hope to gain? We’re in Median space for God’s sake.”