Black Legion - The First Trilogy

by Michael G. Thomas

  One of the new spatharii threw a grenade to her, and she quickly disappeared.

  “What is she doing?” asked Roxana.

  “What do you think?” replied Xenophon, “Making a booby trap I would guess, knowing her.”

  He looked back to the corridor and almost kicked himself for not taking precautions to make the place more defendable. He had assumed if anybody came aboard he would need to take the fight to them. The idea that the Medes would use battle robots to board ships was not something he had ever considered. The more he thought about it now, the more it made sense. They were impervious to g-forces and acceleration, plus they needed no oxygen or atmosphere to work in.

  The perfect boarding troops, he considered, and for a second was actually impressed with their plan.

  “Everybody, get into cover and get those shields up. Do not let them get past you. Glaucon, take two and wait inside the command deck. If any do get past us, you will finish them off, understood?”

  Glaucon nodded and selected the two largest and angriest looking spatharii to go with him. They moved inside and shut the wide double door behind them. Xenophon pulled his blade from his belt and held it in his left hand. It felt heavy and was noticeably top heavy. His attention was drawn not to the weapon though; it was the steady clunk of metal feet and a series of screams.

  “It’s them, get ready!” he shouted and then noticed that Artemas was with them and carrying a carbine ready for combat.

  “You shouldn’t be here. Wait in there with Glaucon!” he ordered.

  Artemas shook her head slowly.

  “No, Xenophon, that isn’t how it works. Just watch your back, and I’ll watch mine.”

  As she spoke, she pulled her long blade from beneath her clothing. Xenophon recognised it as the weapon she had placed before him the first time they had met. She looked back to see him watching and smiled, ever so briefly. They were interrupted by two men who ran right around the corner and towards where the spatharii were waiting patiently. With a flash, the shields activated and put up two thin shields at each end of the short hall area.

  “Get down!” shouted Xenophon, yet the two men kept running.

  From the same place turned a monster of a combat drone. This one was unlike any Xenophon had seen before. It was short, barely over a metre in height and equipped with at least six fast moving legs. There was no discernible head. It was just a metal shape with arms and legs covered in sharp edges and a number of close range weapons. A cloud of metal darts flew silently from its body, and then it surged towards them. The spatharii were all using every millimetre of cover the ribbed bulkhead offered, but it was too little and too late for the two men still running. Both were hit by the volley and collapsed, crying out in agony as they lay dying in pools of their own blood.

  The shields deflected the rest away from the three spatharii covering the route to the command deck on the same side as the machine. With an artificial scream, the thing clambered forward like some possessed metal demon.

  “Now!” screamed Xenophon, and from out of the cover emerged the group. Each took careful aim and blasted the machine with their pulse carbines. The armour piercing projectiles struck it, but the rounds deflected from its body. Only those hitting the limbs seemed to create any kind of damage.

  “That thing is shielded!” shouted one of the men nearest the machine before it reached him, striking him in the chest with one of its sharpened arms. The weapon easily penetrated his stomach armour and embedded itself so far that it punched back out of his back. Xenophon and Roxana moved from their cover and blasted away until both of their magazines ran dry. Only the continuous impact of the pulse rounds seemed to hold it back. The door to the command deck opened to reveal Glaucon who was carrying a pulse-cannon, one of the heavier weapons used by the Terran troops. It was massive overkill for ship defence, but right then it seemed perfect.

  “The legs!” shouted Artemas as she ducked to avoid another flicker of six metal darts.

  Glaucon needed no encouragement and holding the weapon at his hip, pulled the trigger. The weapon roared as it released scores of large calibre pulse rounds. Each one was capable of removing a limb or taking off a man’s head. He sawed through the machine’s legs until nothing but the rattling stump remained. He stopped and grinned, but their short lived moment of triumph was spoilt by the arrival of Tamara; who until now had been busy inside the small room previously used as a brig. She stepped into the corridor and was followed by a massive blast that threw her to the ground. One of the spatharii picked her up and helped drag her to cover. It was perfect timing, as from around the end of the corridor, another two machines entered. This time they were the more familiar bipedal models. Of a similar size to a Terran male, they carried carbines instead of arms, and blasted away at them in the corridor. Roxana was struck in the chest and flew to the ground under the impact.

  “Stop them!” shouted Tamara from her position to the side and simultaneously drew her pistol and fired at the nearest.

  “Behind us, three more!” called out another of the spatharii before being struck by the combined firepower of all three drones. In just a few seconds, four of them were down, including Roxana. All were moving, but it was hard to assess their injuries. Glaucon spun around, the massive pulse-cannon still hanging low to his hip.

  “Get down!” he roared. The muzzle flash lit the corridor as he emptied the weapon, the round shredding the three machines as a stray round clipped his leg and sent him crashing to the floor. Just two more of the bipedal models were left. They surged passed the fallen spatharii and their shield generators and made for the door, not even bothering to face the handful of fighters remaining.

  Xenophon ran at the first and slammed the edge of his blade into the right carbine arm. The deadly monofilament blade cut into the device and with a series of flashes and sparks rendered it useless. In his right arm was his carbine, and lifting it quickly, he fired away with what was left of the ammunition. Only a dozen rounds fired before the damaged machine struck him in the head. The heavy impact sent him straight to the floor. Artemas and Tamara kept low and fired away with their weapons, bringing the damaged machine to the floor in a heap of sparking chunks of metal. It was too late though, and the final undamaged drone stepped passed him and to the door. Artemas jumped from cover, but with a crash the thing was inside the door and stepping into the command deck.

  A massive blast forced them back, with Artemas rolling on the floor and Tamara slamming to the wall. Xenophon dragged himself to them, lifted to one knee and looked for a weapon, any weapon that he might use. Smoke started to clear from the doorway, and the hulk of the metal monster tipped backwards and fell to the ground, revealing the bulky shape of Dukas Xenias. In his hands he carried what looked like a large bore carbine but with two barrels. Smoke wafted from its muzzle, and on his face was the look of both anger and satisfaction.

  Xenophon heard movement and twisted around only to see the arrival of Dekarchos Julius and a dozen of his heavily armoured spatharii. He ran passed the fallen warriors and to the door where the Dukas was still stood.

  “Julius, you are not needed here. The Dekarchos has done his job,” he stated and turned back to where the rest of the crew were still running the ship.

  Of the fallen warriors, all but three lifted themselves from the floor. Even Roxana appeared unharmed, the heavy spatharii armour having absorbed all but the smallest amount of thermal energy.

  “You’re unhurt?” asked an almost tearful Tamara.

  Roxana smiled grimly.

  “I wouldn’t say unhurt, but I’ll live.”

  Julius helped the wounded to their feet and moved over to Xenophon.

  “Good work there. We’ve sealed the breaches, and we’ve got fighter cover now. Leave two men with the Dukas, and meet me down on the deck with anyone that can fight. I’ll explain when you get there.”

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Strategos Clearchus watched with a tingle of dread as the frontline of the Ter
ran fleet became completely enveloped by the Medes. The battle had now turned from a tactical game of cat and mouse to a massive brawl. Cruisers and battleships closed to use their most powerful weapons, and scores of hulks drifted uncontrollably throughout Khorram. The battle had now been raging for ninety minutes, and casualties on both sides were starting to mount up. Even so, with the confusion in the battle, not one Terran ship had moved any closer to the station or shipyards. Tactical Officer Jeane Coxand shook her head as another Terran destroyer was ripped apart by a heavy volley of laser cutters from the Medes flagship.

  “Strategos, we’ve lost almost twenty destroyers so far, and over half of them are down to their flagship.”

  Clearchus nodded. He was acutely aware of the danger posed by the flagship. He was also perfectly aware of the number of heavy Elamite battleships stationed around it. It represented the heart and core of the entire enemy force and would be a very tough nut to crack; the amount of red being shown on his tactical map was becoming a little disconcerting.

  “What are the losses so far?” he asked, almost dreading to hear the words.

  “Two battleships, one battlecruiser, two heavy cruisers and seventeen destroyers have been lost or are out of action. Twenty-three ships from our total of one hundred and one ships, Strategos. The damaged ships are falling back to the transports to assist in their defence.”

  Twenty-three ships! The figure struck him like a knife to the heart. Even the smallest of those vessels carried crew in their hundreds. For a brief moment, he considered withdrawing the fleet, but he knew those numbers were not entirely accurate.

  “What about our friend Ariaeus?”

  Tactical Officer Coxand was fast, it took less than five seconds for her to bring up the full details for his forces.

  “Slightly heavier for him, a quarter of his ships have been crippled so far, but he is holding the flank. His reserves have arrived from their foraging operation and that is rebuilding his fleet.”

  About damned time!

  Ariaeus actually commanded a fleet of nearly two hundred ships, but many had disappeared during the fighting at Aronton. Ariaeus had assured him they were away gathering more troops and supplies, but he was a Medes noble, and that meant he could not be trusted.

  “Get him to move in his additional forces to put pressure on the left. I don’t want him to pursue, just overwhelm their line so that they are forced to put in all their reserves.”

  She nodded and turned to her screen to pass on the information and orders. Clearchus returned to his small group of advisors as well as the very agitated looking Cyrus.

  “Well, are we winning?” he asked impatiently.

  “Winning? Well, we are progressing. War is no quick thing, as you know. I could try and rush this, but we have a plan, and it must be carried through.”

  Cyrus shook his head in irritation.

  “Perhaps you might share this plan?” he asked, almost pleading with his face.

  Clearchus smiled back.

  “No, the plan is not to be shared. You pay me to run this battle, and run it I will.”

  “But the Legion is taking casualties in this attritional battle. At this rate, even if we win, we’ll be left with a shadow of a fleet.”

  “Perhaps, you’ll leave that to me, yes?” replied Clearchus in a stern tone that surprised Cyrus.

  Kentarchos Broge Monsimm shouted to the officers on the deck as the mighty Titan finished a long series of manoeuvres that brought her face to face with the first defensive line in the middle of the Median fleet. It contained eight Elamite battleships, the second largest ships in the Medes arsenal and more than a match for even a Terran battleship. Clearchus watched with pleasure as dozens of high power laser cutters burned into the enemy ships. Each impact cut chunks of armour and superstructure from the huge vessels. Terran destroyers and battleships swarmed around them and thousands of plasma cannon projectiles and railguns battered away.

  It almost looks beautiful, he thought.

  The image of Kleandridas appeared from aboard his personal battleship. Both of his deputies were currently on their own warships. It allowed him to split the risk if one of the senior commanders was killed and also allowed them to exercise individual control and judgement over their parts of the battle.

  “Strategos, I have sustained minor losses and have withdrawn the damaged ships as requested.”

  Clearchus nodded at the news.

  “Good work, so it looks as though our frontline is starting to crumble under the weight of their numbers. How much longer do you think until it is time?”

  “I received information from our scout destroyers. They have picked up signals three parsecs away, and there are more ships coming, but they cannot say how many.”

  “I see. Keep fighting, when they are fully engaged we will start phase three. We cannot begin until I know all of their forces are fully committed. Perhaps release another battleship from the line, and really let them feel we are breaking.”

  Kleandridas nodded and moved from the display to continue his efforts. Clearchus had only spoken with his deputies and the other Dukas present about his plan. He would not chance sharing the information with the Medes, not even Cyrus himself. It was a risky strategy he had no doubt, but they were behind enemy lines and certainly outnumbered. He had to have the enemy pinned before he could deliver his mortal blow. One thing he knew about Medes fleets was that they could melt away at any sign of danger. Cyrus would have had him charge headlong into a short, bloody battle. He needed to let Artaxerxes feel he could win. It was a battle of ego and wits as much as it was about warships and skill.

  Indicators on the screen showed the arrival of the rest of Ariaeus’ forces. As ordered, they were moving in to reinforce the left flank. Not far behind were the mixed Medes and Terran transports, along with a sizeable number of damaged Terran warships. He smiled at the thought of those ships waiting patiently behind Ariaeus.

  A perfect incentive to not stab me in the back.

  He looked back to the efficient crew of Valediction. The commander of the ship and his executive officer were continually engaged with their crew. Weapons and shields were being well managed, and the tactical officer was keeping a tight pattern of air defence fighters around them. He felt safe, but more than anything he wanted to get involved. He reached down and grasped the hilt of his kopis sword, imagining the final phase of the battle. It sent a surge of excitement through his veins.

  “Strategos, Medes reinforcements, another sixty-three ships, all heading for the centre of the line! They will be in position in less than a minute,” cried Kybernetes Ditha Artell.

  Good, about time!

  “Put me through to the fleet,” ordered Clearchus. “It is time to start phase three.”

  Cyrus looked at him and prayed that whatever this phase was all about, it would mark the end of the bloody affair, once and for all. Clearchus looked about at the people around him and nodded with a look of pride and satisfaction on his face.

  “Men and women of the Legion, you have fought long and you have fought hard in this battle. It has now come for that time, the high watermark that will define this day. It is my intention that in the next thirty minutes we will see the defeat of this fleet, so at your posts, and fight harder than you’ve ever fought before. With the death of the Emperor, comes fame, fortune and the retirement you could only dream of!”

  He paused for a few seconds before adding, “To victory!”

  * * *

  Xenophon and his friends waited along with nearly sixty other warriors in the landing area. This part of Vendetta had been cleared in the last thirty minutes to give enough space for the warriors to assemble. Half of them were fully armoured, and the rest were equipped with whatever they had been able to find. At another three points on the ship, the other groups of warriors were doing exactly the same. Dekarchos Julius spotted his arrival and marched over, grasping Xenophon and pulling him close.

  “Good work, my friend. I’m sorry so
many made it through, but they were able to create three breaches before we could hold them back.”

  He stepped back and shook the hands of Glaucon, Tamara and Roxana but just looked at Artemas, still unsure exactly how to deal with her. Glaucon checked the magazine on the pulse-cannon he was still carrying and then spoke firmly.

  “Why are we all waiting down here? Are we boarding one of the stations?” he asked.

  Julius simply smiled but said nothing. Their attention was already diverted to the arrival of the Dukas and a dozen more heavily armoured spatharii. As he entered the landing bay, a volley of projectile slammed into the shielding. The sound rattled through the innards of the ship, but there appeared to be no obvious damage. The Dukas lifted his carbine high and grinned at the assembled men and women.

  “I have just received word from the Strategos. The third and final phase of this bloody battle has begun. You may not be aware, but our forces have been guarding the right flank in the reserve line. We have been joined by all the remaining heavy and light cruisers, as well as Titan Herakles, and are withdrawing from the battle.”

  A great cry of discontent and bitterness erupted, and for the briefest of moments it looked as though the warriors would revolt on the spot. Xenias lifted his carbine once more to get their attention.

  “You know the Strategos better than that. You know me better than that. Do you think you would all be waiting here in full battle attire if we were going to just withdraw?”

  “We are not abandoning Clearchus and the Legion?” asked a young red-haired woman. She wore just the body armour of the spatharii and was scarred down the left side of her face. She carried on her shoulder a tired looking Arcadian Doru Mk II Rifle, presumably a weapon taken during the evacuation of the Olympia.

  The Dukas looked down to her and nodded.

  “Pentarchos Hughes, is it not?”

  The woman nodded reverently, evidently pleased at being recognised.

  “Your unit defended against the first wave of Medes troops on Olympia, if I am not mistaken? How many of you made it off the Titan?”