Black Legion - The First Trilogy

by Michael G. Thomas

  “Come.”

  The door swung open to reveal Xenophon who stepped in smartly and saluted in the Alliance fashion. Xenias smiled inwardly as the double sign of respect and a reminder that he might be of the Legion, but never an Arcadian. It wasn’t surprising, really, the Alliance and the Arcadians had experienced a rocky relationship for years.

  “Dekarchos Xenophon, please sit down,” he said, indicating with his hand to sit next to Julius. He moved into position and lowered himself while throwing a quick look to Artemas.

  “Now, I have had a long chat with this fine young woman with regards to what she has been doing in our endeavour. I have assurances from her that from now on, she will report directly to the highest ranking Terran officer present. As of now that will be myself, and when we reach the rest of the Legion that will pass on to the Strategos.”

  He looked to Artemas who nodded slowly.

  “And the Dukas has agreed that I will be able to continue my duties aboard the ship to ensure no more troubles occur here. Neither you nor my people want to see rogue Terrans wandering through our planets.”

  Xenophon looked a little confused at the proceedings, however, and looked to Julius for guidance. The experienced Arcadian officer had an expressionless face, and said or did nothing that he could discern.

  “What is it?” asked Xenias.

  “Uh, it is nothing, My Lord.”

  Xenias appeared to be irritated at his refusal to answer.

  “Dammit man, speak your mind!”

  Xenophon looked at the three of them.

  “Well, Sir, isn’t it going to be dangerous having someone such as Artemas being granted full access to a Terran warship? Even Lord Cyrus is followed about by a security detail handpicked by Strategos Clearchus.

  “Indeed, you are correct. As of now, Lady Artemas has become our official Scout for this region. Her duties will be to assist in navigation and communication in this region of space. It is an official role and will mean she can come out of hiding, perhaps to ditch those...interesting garments,” he said as he looked at her from head to toe.

  “I see...but...” started Xenophon, but again he was silenced by Xenias.

  “Of course an important dignitary such as Lady Artemas will require protection by people she trusts, and also by people I can trust. I’m sure you know where I am going with this?”

  He looked to Artemas and spotted her gentle smile as she looked directly back at him. For the briefest of moments, he forgot where he was and gazed at her pale skin and bright eyes. Then he remembered where he was and who he was sat opposite.

  “You will select a team of three or four trusted members of the Legion and then Dekarchos Julius for your equipment and armour. I know you are members of the Night Blades, but this is a battlefield promotion, and you are to be transferred to the spatharii and will join my contingent. You will answer directly to the Senior Dekarchos here,” he added, pointing to Julius.

  Xenophon appeared stunned at the news. He sat there and said absolutely nothing.

  “Well then, I assume you have some people in mind. Notify them of their new position and meet Julius within the hour. You will be allocated your final unit and posting when we join the Legion. For now your job is simple, protect Lady Artemas at any cost. You are dismissed, Dekarchos Xenophon of the Spatharii.”

  He stood up and saluted though still dumbfounded at the news. The spatharii were the elite heavy infantry of the Terrans, and only those with substantial previous training and experience were permitted to join them. The guards outside opened the door and he stepped out of the room feeling like a changed man. The door shut before he even turned around only to see the beautiful form of Artemas stood there waiting patiently.

  “Well, isn’t it time I met your comrades?” she whispered coyly.

  CHAPTER TEN

  Laconian Titan ‘Valediction’, Approaching Khorram shipyards

  The arrival at the Imperial Shipyards at Khorram should have been the greatest tactical surprise in the history of the Median Empire. Thousands of elite mercenaries along with their transports, heavy warships and an even larger number of Median allies presented the greatest invasion force for hundreds of years. Instead of a great surprise, the Terrans jumped into what would be forever known as the Khorram Massacre and one of the bloodiest days in the history of both the Terran and Medes races. It started with the arrival of the Legion, with the Titan Valediction at the centre, and the first wave of Terran combat forces. Valediction arrived with little warning, only the blurred flash as she appeared just thirty minutes away from the Shipyards themselves and was then followed by the rest of the vast Armada; one hundred and one Terran ships and one hundred and forty three Median allies under the command of Ariaeus.

  “Battle stations!” came the order through the communication nodes installed among the officers of the great ship as well as through the loudspeakers fitted in every single room and corridor in the Titan.

  The crew were already waiting for trouble, but the view many of them saw through their virtual observation units or computer systems shocked every single person on the Titan. From his position on the main deck, Clearchus watched in astonishment at the great fleet moving out in a massive column formation. It looked like a crowd after a great concert as hundreds of ships jostled for position, each one moving slowly to the jump beacon situated at the farthest side of the system.

  “What is this?” barked Clearchus, instantly suspecting treachery.

  The Virtual Observation System gave him a flawless view of space around the Armada as well as the myriad of enemy ships, structures, shipyards and station. A light mist, faint pink in colour, gave an odd, almost alien feel to the entire region of space. Clearchus had seen the imagery for the shipyards, but the reality was something else. A dozen planets, none of which any more than barren rocks had been converted over a period of hundreds, possibly thousands of years into refineries, factories and assembly plants. It dwarfed anything he had seen before, even including the main Alliance shipyards that orbited Attica prior to them being partially dismantled after their defeat. What really interested him though was what was happening. This wasn’t a fleet deployed for battle; it looked to him like it was a fleet being sent somewhere.

  “I need a full evaluation of this entire area, fast!” he snapped to the crew.

  His words were not needed. As soon as the Valediction had entered the sector, the bridge crew had started their standard procedures by scanning every near object, plotting trajectories and scanning for weapons and signals.

  “Clearchus, do you know what this is?” asked Lord Cyrus with a tone of awe, almost reverence to his voice.

  Clearchus turned from gazing at the myriad ships to the Median noble.

  “A lot of ships, that’s what it looks like. I thought it was to be lightly defended? Didn’t Ariaeus say in his debriefing that the Aronton Station had already broadcasted news of our approach?”

  Tactical Officer Coxand turned from her display and took a deep breath before speaking.

  “My Lord, I’ve completed my analysis.”

  Cyrus smiled inwardly, impressed with the speed and efficiency of the crew. Although he was an exile, he still had friends back home, and they had done much to ensure he had the pick of the Laconian military that were on leave or retiring. Even the Titans in the fleet had been a major coup, offered for large cash stipends purely because most of the Terran colonies were having trouble raising funds to run such massive ships. He remembered the rumours that Arcadia was even considering scrapping her only remaining Titan, the Olympia, to raise money for social programmes. He shook his head; he had more important things to worry about right now.

  “Give me the short version.”

  “According to our databases this isn’t any collection of ships, this is the primary fleet of the Imperial Navy. I count twenty-eight Elamite battleships, nine battlecruisers, eight armoured cruisers, twenty-six light cruisers and nearly eighty destroyers. They outnumber our forces by f
ifty-percent.”

  Cyrus lifted his hand.

  “Wait, we have over a hundred of my allied ships under the command of Ariaeus. That will give us a substantial advantage in numbers. If we combine the fleets, we can descend upon them and destroy their fleet in one action.”

  Clearchus listened to him but wasn’t convinced.

  “I appreciate your enthusiasm to attack, Lord Cyrus. But I have my crew and warriors to worry about. This mission is not to destroy the Median Empire. It is to put you on the thrown, is it not? I could lose half my forces and then what state will you be in? You can’t run an Empire with two decimated fleets can you?”

  Cyrus walked up to the display and pointed to the capital ships scattered throughout the enemy formation. He aimed specifically at the largest battleship.

  “These are no ordinary ships. They are the Royal ships of the Imperium, and if we let them escape, well, we could lose a chance to end this war before it even begins.”

  The Tactical Officer pointed at the main ships as she described the details held on the ship’s database. As they continued discussing the plan, the ships in the fleet drew up into the final part of the prearranged formation. The Terrans adopted a narrow front with much of the lighter ships in reserve. With space being the vast three-dimensional void that it was, the ships were spaced out considerably. Partially to give clear fields of fire, but also to avoid taking damage from shrapnel of damaged ships or the massive explosions that occur with core reactor overloads on the larger ships. Contrary to what most people thought, there was no air in space, and therefore no shockwave from explosions. But that didn’t stop the ships from staying at a safe distance. The officers were still talking, but Clearchus’ attention was drawn by several small groups of ships breaking away from the main enemy column.

  What are they up to?

  Most of the enemy fleet was still in the long column, and Clearchus watched with satisfaction as in less than a single minute the entire Terran fleet was formed up into battle order. Behind the three-deep Terran formation, the Medes ships of Ariaeus were much further back, and most had taken up stations around the transports. Unlike the Terrans and their Titans, the bulk of the Medes troops were inside lightly protected vessels with little in the way of armour, firepower or shielding to look after them. He was about to speak, but the face of his hated opposite number appeared instead.

  “Strategos,” he stated politely.

  “Ariaeus, I trust your ships are in the correct formation?” asked Clearchus.

  Ariaeus nodded.

  “I think they are trying to bait us into attacking. This looks like a trap to advance our forces forward so we can be engaged by superior numbers,” explained Clearchus.

  “What numbers?” asked Cyrus as he waved his hands in the direction of the many groups of ships. Clearchus shook his head in annoyance.

  There is a reason your Empire failed in two invasions in a row against us, barbarian! He murmured angrily to himself.

  “It isn’t just what you see, Cyrus, it is what you do not. Your people have a well known reputation for subterfuge and feigned withdrawals. I wouldn’t be surprised if this is all a simple device to make us attack them.”

  Cyrus was visibly annoyed, probably due to the perceived lack of aggression shown by Clearchus. He had hired the man both for his skill and his connections. Without him, there would never have been four Titans to start with, let alone ten thousand of the finest Terran ground troops.

  “There is something else, Strategos. I have picked up the signature and silhouette of what looks like a Super-Battleship. I...I think it might be the Rashnu. She is turning and moving to the rear of the column.”

  That last description seemed to stop Cyrus in his tracks. His eyes gleamed at the mention of the infamous ship, probably the most famous ship in the entire Median fleet, perhaps any fleet. Clearchus spotted his expression, and it was clear the ship’s name meant something important to him. He waved his hand and brought up a detailed camera view of the brightly coloured Median battleship.

  “The Rashnu, you said?” he asked.

  Clearchus examined the shape carefully, and from the corner of his eye he made sure his own forces were manoeuvring as per his instructions. So far neither side had committed any forces or started any kind of violent action.

  “That is why I contacted you. The ship is indeed the Rashnu,” said Ariaeus as politely as he could manage.

  There was some commotion near the commander of the Titan, Kentarchos Broge Monsimm. His was in a heated discussion with the ship’s senior communications officer, Auletes Juda Bellee. Clearchus noticed the Auletes was trying to authorise a video communication of some kind.

  “What is it?” he called out.

  Kentarchos Monsimm turned in his chair. Beads of sweat were clear on his forehead, and he looked worried. No, as Clearchus looked more carefully, he realised it wasn’t worry, it was tension. The Kentarchos was ready for battle and knew what was at stake.

  “Strategos, we have been sent an urgent secure communication from the enemy flagship. They wish to know why we have entered Imperial territory. We are to lower our shields and allow boarding parties to search our ships.”

  Clearchus looked to the tactical display and checked the status of the ships. It would take considerable time for any of the ships to change course; powering up jump drives took time and energy, something that was often limited in a combat environment.

  Do I attack or let them withdraw?

  The Auletes turned back in her seat with a look of surprise, almost fear on her face. Clearchus, Cyrus and the Kentarchos all recognised the expression.

  “What?” demanded Clearchus, dreading what she might have to say.

  “It’s him!” she replied, spluttering out the words.

  Clearchus still wasn’t sure, but he needed to know.

  “Answer me, who is it?”

  “The Emperor, he is here,” she cried out and then turned back to her display.

  Cyrus stepped towards her, bypassing any of the other Terran officers on the deck. A number of Clearchus’ guard motioned to move, but he waved them off discretely.

  “Put him on!” he demanded.

  Auletes Bellee looked over to Clearchus who simply nodded in reply. It took only seconds and then the image of the Emperor Artaxerxes himself appeared. It was the first time Clearchus had seen the leader of the Median Empire or even the inside of one of their ships. Unlike Cyrus, who had adopted Terran speech and mannerisms, his brother looked completely different. Dressed in a bizarre gown, he was topped off with a flamboyant headdress and a completely exposed right shoulder.

  “Barbarians,” muttered Clearchus.

  He started to speak in the odd language of the Medians, and it took a few seconds for the computer translators to catch up and repeat a version the Terrans could understand. Harsh words had evidently been exchanged before Cyrus looked back to Clearchus, his faced taut with anger.

  “We must strike!” he hissed through his teeth before continuing.

  The computer tried to translate the first few lines, but nothing but gibberish came out of the system. The Auletes split the data to her assistants, but they seemed to be making no progress.

  “What’s happening here?” growled the Kentarchos.

  Auletes Bellee continued her work but called out from behind her desk.

  “They aren’t speaking standard Median, Sir. I think it must be a code or perhaps a family dialect. I’m cross-referencing with the ancient and classical Median dialects now.”

  Clearchus remembered reading about the Medes and their nobility. Unlike the Terrans, they weren’t into a single race but a mixture of conquered and assimilated societies that were rules by regional satraps that then answered directly to the Imperial Household. The true Medes were the Terran-looking humanoids in the Core Worlds like Cyrus and his brother. Their lands were filled with bizarre races and creatures, though he had seen very few of them so far. His attention was grabbed by the fact tha
t the video screen had shut down.

  “Strategos Clearchus,” called out Cyrus, “I beg you to begin your assault. My brother, the Emperor, says if we leave, he will forgive us. If we stay, then he will destroy us and not stop until every ship is left a hulk to be picked over by scavengers. He will take no prisoners here.”

  Clearchus looked back to his display and then to Cyrus. The Emperor was indeed the prize, and his plan would need just a few subtle changes for it to work.

  “What did you tell him?”

  “That I am the people’s Emperor, that he is a dictator, an imposter and an enemy of the Empire.”

  Tactical Officer Jeane Coxand moved her hand around the ships shown on the display so that they were highlighted in red. She waved her hand along the entire formation.

  “The enemy forces are deploying into a wide front, Strategos, and the shipyard and planetary defences are activating. Rashnu is deploying to the centre of the enemy fleet between four Elamite battleships.”

  “Yes, as I suspected, this was a feigned withdrawal. The column was laid out to trick us into attacking the rear where they would then turn and envelop our dispersed formation. The emplacements and shipyards would rake us on our approach.”

  Cyrus lowered his head slightly and nodded.

  “You were correct, Clearchus. I will stand by your judgement in this matter. All I would say though is that if we take the Emperor today, I will pay every member of the Legion triple their bounty for just this one day’s work.”

  Clearchus looked at him and grinned.

  “Auletes, put Cyrus on with the entire fleet.” He ordered before looking back to Cyrus.

  “Tell them what you just told me, and I’ll bring you his head as a royal souvenir.”

  Cyrus grinned and for possibly the first time, Clearchus was sincere.

  * * *

  Vendetta, Approaching Khorram shipyards