Black Legion - The First Trilogy

by Michael G. Thomas

  Kleandridas grinned with a look of pleasure that Clearchus hadn’t seen since his exile from Laconia.

  Yes, this will be a battle, a great battle.

  * * *

  The first part of the space battle took place between the ten battleships of the Legion and the seven Elamite and three Terran battleships of the Zacynthians. Both sides were well matched. All the ships were equipped with thick shielding, heavy armour and powerful weapons. The Terran ships were optimised for close range battle, sustaining a full ten minutes of long-range gunfire from the Medes Elamite Battleships before being able to bring their own weapons to bear.

  The lead battleship, the aged Arcadian warship known as the Hood, accelerated forward, leading the column of warships directly at the heart of the enemy formation of eighty-three ships. Though a dangerous position, it was also one of great honour. Multiple rounds of laser and rocket fire slammed into her thick armour, but incredibly she kept on and closed the distance. From deep inside the Titan Valediction, Clearchus watched with a mixture of worry and pride as the ships moved ever closer. A freak volley from one of the Elamites slipped between two overlapping shield layers and struck the Black Legion battleship Hood. Clearchus watched in fear as a number of dull blue flashes indicated something serious had happened.

  Gods, no!

  Incredibly, the powerful beams cut directly into her plasma generator, setting off a series of internal explosions that tore the great ship into five massive chunks. That was the only fatality before the remaining nineteen ships reached close range. Now each vessel blasted away with every weapon in their arsenal, trying to destroy the nearest foe. Clearchus watched the movement of the ships and sent signals to the commanders of each ship via his communication node fitted to his head. He avoided using it most of the time, but occasions such as this required the speed that only this system offered. He could bypass entire chains of command and contact the commanders of each ship in an instant.

  Now it is time to destroy them, ship by ship.

  He connected to the leaders of each division of ships and gave them the go ahead to commence the second stage of the battle. With all the main ships engaged, the remaining forty-six ships of the Legion formed up into two long lines and proceeded to target a single enemy ship at a time. It was a plan devised by Clearchus after wargaming potential encounters during their long journey to Cunaxa. The effect was devastating, especially when the Titans Valediction and Herakles added their own massive volleys of laser fire. A dozen cruisers from the Zacynthian fleet were quickly destroyed, and the remaining seventy-one ships broken formation and scattered.

  I knew they’d run. Zacynthian cowards!

  The Legion reformed their positions around the damaged but still functional battleships, and with great disciplined performed a full one hundred and eighty degree change of direction. The fleet now aimed like an arrow towards Cunaxa Secundus and the second force of Zacynthian warships.

  “Tactical, what are their numbers?”

  Jeane Coxand, the tactical officer examined the enemy formation in great detail, as well as comparing the visual information with the radar scans of the area. It was common for ships to project ghosts of themselves electronically, or to use other decoys to sow confusion in battle. Once satisfied she had the correct information, she updated the tactical display used by Clearchus.

  “Strategos, I count a larger force. The frontline includes four Elamites with over seventy unknown warships in support. They are roughly cruiser class, and their signatures match the cruisers we encountered at Khorram. Some are carrying heavy lasers with a few using plasma weapons.”

  Clearchus raised an eyebrow at the news. Over seventy ships was an impressive number, but nothing he felt particularly concerned about.

  “Uh, there’s more, Strategos. Behind the frontline is a second force of approximate one hundred and twenty destroyers. They are much smaller, and their energy signatures suggest they are using a mixture of plasma cannons and missiles. The insignia on their hulls matches the Taochi territories.

  I see, so the Emperor really has brought warriors from every part of his empire for this battle.

  “Shields to maximum. Now is the time to launch the fighters. Punch a hole through the Zacynthians. We have to reach Cyrus!”

  His message reached the commanders of all fifty-five ships in his force, and as one they changed formation into that of a diamond. The front comprised the battleships and both Titans. Clearchus doubted any fleet, no matter its size, would be able to stop them. He started to laugh, much to the surprise of the other officers present and then pulled out his blade. As at Khorram, he slashed his hand, opening up a narrow wound so that he could make his blood oath. The fact that he hadn’t even bothered before showed everybody on the command deck the seriousness of what was about to happen. Kleandridas sensed the mood change and moved quickly to stand alongside his comrade in arms.

  “The Zacynthians think they can stop us with a mere two hundred ships? Four to one odds, this is an insult!”

  The laughter that spread through the deck was infectious, and the crew of Valediction readied their weapons and prepared to enter battle once more. Plasma fire and heavy cutters struck the bow of the massive Titan, but other than the dull shudders through the floor of the ship, they appeared to have a negligible effect.

  “Commanders, by division attack their weakest vessels and move past. I do not want a single ship to change course. Either they move, or we burn!”

  * * *

  Median Battleship ‘Rashnu’, Cunaxa Secundus

  The battle the Legion was currently embroiled in paled to insignificance when compared to the massive bloodbath around Cunaxa. The Emperor had held back over one hundred and thirty ships, including eighteen Elamites for the final battle. These Scythian Class battleships were half a kilometre long and easily capable of standing up to Terran warships. Unlike ships that Cyrus had faced so far, these were elite warships, crewed by the most loyal and well-trained warriors in the Empire. The orbital defence platforms and stations added their own tremendous firepower, as well as feeding scores of fighter squadrons into the fray. This was the first time in the campaign the Imperial forces had faced off against a similarly equipped fleet of Median ships, under the joint command of Lord Cyrus and his trusted lieutenant, Lord Ariaeus. Almost three hundred ships of every type circled over the planet in a confused and bloody battle that saw neither side gaining the upper hand. Lord Cyrus watched as four Elamites moved in close to each other and tore each other to pieces with volley after volley of gunfire. Several streaks of plasma gunfire missed one of them and slammed into the port side of the Rashnu. Cyrus was forced to grab the command throne as the massive impact sent shudders throughout the lightly damaged super-battleship. The command throne was a lonely place, but it was allowing him the perfect position from which to command the battle.

  Where are you, my brother? Let us end this!

  Of the ships in the battle, one had to be commanded by his brother. There were three super-battleships, each the size and power of Rashnu. He had been able to cripple one, yet the enemy formation maintained order. He had to find it and fast before he ran out of ships. All his fighters were busy looking for any sign of transports or shuttles that might take him to the surface and safety. His brother was arrogant, and he had no doubt that just as at Khorram, he would be standing comfortably in the middle of the most powerful ship in the fleet. Cyrus allowed himself a quick glance into the distance where the Black Legion was busy trying to smash its way through the newly arrived Zacynthians. Clearchus had warned him to keep the fleets together, and he was starting to wonder if the battle would have changed if Clearchus and his ships were with him right now.

  Terrans, of course!

  He turned around and looked back at the shapes well behind the battle. The outer defences had been abandoned some time before, but the shape of a single Terran Titan was easy to spot. A scan of those ships waiting in the reserve confirmed the size of the small fleet.
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  Twenty-two ships! That is enough to sway this battle!

  He knew that time was now no longer on his side. The battle could go either way and even if he won, it was critical he retained the bulk of his fleet to maintain control of the Empire. It would be futile to become Emperor with just a handful of ships to enforce order. He looked at the ship and sent the mental command to connect, but nothing happened. He waited patiently, and then remembered that the command system worked on the Median vessels only. He would have to send a manual connection request.

  “Brother, I see you,” said a familiar voice.

  He turned about, his mind now thrown from contacting Meno, to identifying that voice. Deep down he knew exactly who it was, but there was also the chance that it was simply his mind playing tricks with him. After all, the number of voices spread over the battle was substantial. Two more flashes announced the destruction of unidentified ships in the fight. He couldn’t find their names but did note his tactical roster that was displayed on the left-hand side had dropped several more ships. They must have been his. Then he spotted the flashing icon that marked the transmission source. He’d missed it because it wasn’t coming from a ship or even one of the stations. It was actually coming from the planet itself. He selected it with his iris, sending the mental signal to make a full-bandwidth connection. At the same time, the imagery around him changed to show an aerial view of the Cunaxa Secundus. The signal clearly came from a point in the massively fortified compound, known as the Royal Citadel. The face of Artaxerxes appeared inside what looked like an identical command throne.

  “My brother, so you finally show your face!” snarled Cyrus.

  Artaxerxes smiled, his face betraying no malice towards his brother.

  “Cyrus, my brother. You must learn to control yourself. Look what you have done. Instead of acting as a loyal noble in my court, you have turned to pirates and mercenaries to turn on me. You must realise that I have unlimited resources available to me. With one shake of my hand, another hundred ships will arrive.”

  Cyrus’ face contorted with anger at the arrogance of his brother.

  “If you are so powerful, why not bring them now? I think you lie, brother!”

  The emphasis and contempt on the last word seemed to get the attention of Artaxerxes. His face tightened ever so slightly as if he’d just heard terrible news.

  “Why would I scare you away? This is proceeding exactly as I had planned it. The outer defences were a decoy to boost your confidence and to show me your arrogance. You should have taken your time. Now your forces are scattered. The Terrans are surrounded and too far away to help you.”

  He paused, and Cyrus was left to watch the battle continue to unfold. More ships were being destroyed, and he could see the odds beginning to turn against him as the orbital defences started to turn the tables on his fleet. He needed to act fast. Artaxerxes spotted his hesitation and smiled at his brother.

  “How are you finding Rashnu? You must be enjoying the use of my command throne? It does provide an excellent view of the destruction of your fleet. My commanders tell me that your fleet has less than an hour, perhaps a little more if you can persuade your Terran friends out there to help.”

  Meno!

  In all this discussion, he’d forgotten about the Terran rearguard. The interruption of his brother had shaken the thoughts from his head. He turned about to find the group of ships and found the Titan quickly enough. With a simple mental command, he connected with his commanders on Rashnu and transferred the order via them to the Terran Titan. He waited patiently, but it was his brother that spoke, not Meno.

  “I have an alternative for you that you might want to consider. Surrender your fleet immediately, and I will make you Satrap of Khorram. You will have lands, money, women and status.”

  Cyrus turned to look at him. He had expected an offer, one more like the offer Clearchus had been given by his own people. Exile or suffer execution. Instead, he was being offered grandiose terms and that told him just one thing.

  He’s scared!

  It was the last thing he thought he would find. His brother was on the surface trapped and unable to escape. The only thing standing between him and total victory was the fact that his fleet was being taken apart, one ship at a time. He knew what had to be done and selected all of his ships mentally. At the same time, he sent audio messages to the commanders of all three Titans. For all of them it was the same though. It was time to turn from the space battle and to land every soldier he had on the planet.

  “The Royal Citadel, Cunaxa Secundus and the Empire are mine!” he growled.

  * * *

  Xenophon watched the hundreds of automatons as they boarded the lines of landing craft inside Rashnu. He’d seen the sight many times before on Terran ships, but this was the first time he’d seen such an event on board a Medes vessel. The automatons represented the majority, and he wondered how reliable they would be as their lightly armoured and equipped soldiers took their places inside the craft.

  “Not much space in there,” said Glaucon.

  It was true though. From what they could see, the automatons were crammed in very tightly, with less space than any other craft he’d seen. It seemed inhumane to treat them this way, but they were not considered the equals of the Medes or the many other tribes that made up the Empire. Lady Artemas watched them go, and she appeared to be the only one with any glimmer of sadness to her face.

  “You worry for them?” asked Roxana.

  “Of course. They feel pain and fear just like any of us. If they were Terrans, how would you feel?”

  More gunfire struck the armour of Rashnu, but the impact that knocked them all to the ground was very different to anything they’d come across so far. Glaucon was first up and helped the others to their feet.

  “What was that?” asked Xenophon.

  “Don’t ask me. I just carry the gun and shoot people,” laughed Glaucon nervously.

  Artemas was already at one of the display units, checking the external feeds.

  “Gods, no!” she whispered to herself.

  Xenophon approached her.

  “What is it?”

  She turned her head, but something caught her eye, and she was instantly drawn back in.

  “The Emperor, he must have given a last defence order. Look!”

  Roxana, Xenophon and Glaucon all stood around her, watching the bloodbath on the screen. Before, the battle had consisted of hundreds of circling ships blasting each other at different distances. Now it seemed to be mainly the ships of Cyrus withdrawing into a defensive formation while ship after ship rushed towards them. As they watched, two cruisers slammed into one of Cyrus’ heavy cruisers. All three were destroyed in massive explosions that sent their shattered hulks out into the path of the other ships.

  “Suicide ships? Is he insane?”

  Artemas shook her head.

  “Not at all, Xenophon. He just needs to hurt Cyrus enough so that he cannot attack the planet. He has more ships, and when they arrive this will be over. The only chance for victory is a ground assault.”

  Xenophon reached out to her shoulder and turned her around.

  “Are you serious? Why haven’t we heard this?”

  She shook her head angrily.

  “I am not part of the order of battle. It is my duty to stay on the Rashnu where I will be safe. Do you think my uncle would give me any information that might put me into the frontline?”

  Another massive impact shook the ship, and one of the landing craft broke free of its couplings and slid across the floor. It crashed into an ammunition locker. Two small explosions ripped the front of the craft, and dozens of burning automatons pulled themselves from their seats to avoid the flames. Others ran from their maintenance work to help with the fire. Xenophon pointed to the screen.

  “Look.”

  The image showed an Elamite battleship with half of its bow embedded into the flank of Rashnu. But more serious than that, two more were moving in the sa
me direction and firing continually into the super-battleship’s armour.

  A large group of Cyrus’ Anusiyan Guard marched into the landing area and fanned out, quickly followed by a dozen senior officers. Each was dressed in full battle armour. The larger figure of Cyrus then appeared, followed by yet more guards. They all moved with speed and towards one of the armoured landing craft.

  “Cyrus!” Artemas called out to her uncle.

  He turned his head but kept moving, his guards almost carrying him to the craft in a hurry. He beckoned for one of his junior commanders, spoke briefly and moved on to the landing craft. The officer ran over to Artemas and bowed. His voice was fast and clipped. Artemas nodded, and he then indicated towards the vessel that Cyrus was already stepping inside.

  “They are taking to the landing craft and attacking the surface. My uncle plans on assaulting the Citadel itself.”

  The ship shook again, and the computer display went black as it lost the external feeds.

  “What about us?” Roxana asked.

  Artemas pointed to another landing craft about eighty metres away.

  “That one has been made available to us. It can carry us as well as my escort unit. We must be quick!”

  None of them needed further encouragement. As soon as they moved, the unit of guards followed right behind. Silent and efficient, the survivors of the previous battle covered the ground to the craft and moved inside. Safely strapped in, Xenophon leaned past Glaucon to speak to Artemas.

  “What about Tamara, isn’t she still in the medical bay?”

  A bright orange explosion ripped though the far end of the landing area. It was like a starting signal to the other craft, and they quickly took the hint. The first moved to the launch positions, out through the airlock shielding and into space.

  “I don’t know. She’ll have to take care of herself for now.”

  Xenophon looked out of the windows, watching as the docking clamps and seals deactivated on the craft in front. Three of the craft had already left before they met their position in the queue. He thought about Tamara, and guilt washed over him as he realised he hadn’t even thought about her in over a day. She was young, injured and vulnerable, and he felt responsible for her. He also knew it would take almost fifteen minutes to reach her, and by the amount of damage the ship was taking, they’d all be dead.