That is one ugly bird.
He walked around her and did his best to keep out of the way of the scores of people rushing about. He’d seen it after it had crashed during the escape from Bijar Prime, but this was the first time he’d looked at it in any great detail since it had been repaired, patched, and modified. This particular type of craft was one of the many used by mercenary forces throughout Terran and Median space, but the markings on this one had been removed; presumably by the Terran workers on the ship. It was a little larger than a normal dromon class vessel and fitted with high-slung engines, a small stubby cockpit, and a fat cargo hold. Four gun ports had been hastily modified along each flank, and double-mounted pulse cannon were attached to each of the ports. He reached the nose and stopped to touch where damaged plates had been replaced.
"Have you ever seen such a hybrid before?" Lady Artemas asked.
Xenophon looked at her and shrugged, but was clearly happy to see her.
"After a while these craft look the same. Still, it didn’t take long for them to make changes, did it?"
Lady Artemas walked slowly, much more so than normal. Xenophon was glad to see her moving about under her own steam, with no stick or people to help. He’d seen the reports on her recovery, and incredibly, she was almost back to normal. He looked back at the craft as spatharii carried their equipment inside. The chin of the raider was originally fitted with four short-barrelled pulse cannons, but now each of them had been removed and replaced by much more powerful Terran automatic cannons.
Though technologically the same, these units were fed by auxiliary ammunition packs slung under the hull of the raider. Motors drove the ammunition to the guns, which would give it far greater hitting power, as well as standardising it with the rest of the fleet.
“Glaucon told me they’d been making these modifications. I’m still surprised they chose to use her. An armoured dromon could do a similar job.”
Lady Artemas touched the craft and smiled at him.
“Perhaps, but this one is special. I made a special request to Kentarchos Cadmus to keep her.”
He spotted a small group of Night Blades at one end, each carrying their long pulse rifles.
"Still, this one has quite the reputation. According to the computer, she's more than thirty years old and has crashed five times. Every time they rebuild her, she's stronger than ever. I can’t imagine how many mercenary crews have used her."
Lady Artemas grabbed his collar and pulled him close. She planted her lips firmly on his until finally releasing him.
"Don't make this the sixth, understood?"
Glaucon arrived, along with a handful of his guards. He still looked uncomfortable in his new role, but at least he was carrying weapons and ready for battle. He stopped alongside Xenophon and waited as Artemas released him.
“Glaucon, you’re looking ready for battle...as always,” said Artemas.
He nodded politely and then turned back to Xenophon.
"They're all loaded up, and the spatharii are carrying additional generators, as you requested."
"Good."
Xenophon could see something was bothering him. It wasn't even his face that gave him away; it was the way his body moved.
"What is it? Come on, Glaucon, spit it out."
He sighed as he answered.
"This Bactrian warship we're going up against. Are you sure trying to board the thing is a good idea?"
As he spoke, Xenophon looked to the raider behind him. He hadn't noticed before, but a beautifully painted wicked-looking blade, and the italicised letters that spelt out ‘Night Scythe’ covered the left side of the nose. The colours were layered in such a way that the weapon almost seemed to glow in the light.
“Beautiful work,” said Glaucon.
Lady Artemas leaned in close and brushed her hands along the hull. The layered metalwork was rough to her skin, even where there had been no damage. She continued on until touching the dried paint.
“This is the work of a calm mind. I would like to meet whoever was responsible.”
“That would be me,” said a gruff female voice.
Xenophon, Artemas, and Glaucon all turned about to see the large figure of the woman from Bijar Prime. Artemas showed no sign of recollection even though she had shared some time with her in the medical bay. Xenophon extended a hand to her, but she simply moved in closer, ignoring his help. Glaucon raised an eyebrow both in surprise and amusement. Xenophon shook his head before introducing her.
“This is...”
“Desma of Mantinea,” she added.
All three were equally surprised at her not letting Xenophon finish. She then looked directly at her Dukas. Her armour was even more battered than before, and her hair pulled out from her backplate as she moved. She was forced to lean a little forward under the massive weight of the generator unit that she carried. On her left arm was the activation unit for the shield, and in her right a cut down Doru carbine. Though technically the same weapon as those carried by the stratiotes, this one was half the length and could be fired one-handed. At her flank hung a short scabbard and a heavy looking kopis blade, the standard sidearm of all the Terran units.
“I requested transfer to your assault unit, under the command of Komes Glaucon.”
A high-pitched whine drew their attention to the speakers.
“Ten minutes. Corsair squadron has entered the system.”
With those words Xenophon clambered inside the craft, and Glaucon and Desma did the same. Four more spatharii followed them, and then they were full. Glaucon pulled on the lever to close the door, and Artemas watched as the craft sealed itself ready for the void.
“Good luck,” she said quietly to herself.
The deck chief did one final check and then called out to the crew, “Off the deck. We hit the void in nine minutes.”
CHAPTER THREE
Mercenary Corsair ‘Sanguine’, Fleet Assembly Point, Geghard Quadrant
The forty-two transports waited in groups of seven while hundreds of smaller craft ferried crew and supplies between them. Amongst them was a single Super-Elamite, the flagship of the fleet. The huge craft bore the markings of a regional Darbabad and was protected by four frigate-size ships. Much further away were six battleships moving in slow elliptical patterns around them in lazy arcs. These were regional ships, not the traditional Median vessels and lacked the thick armour of their Imperial cousins.
Thousands of kilometres away were two small fighter squadrons. They continued their patrol as they had been for hours, days, and perhaps even weeks. They were probably looking for signs of raiders, pirates, or anything else that might threaten the fleet. A short distance away sat another squadron of twelve Hayastani cruisers, each one gleaming from their shipyards and eager for battle. Yet no part of the fleet was more impressive than the battered shape of the mighty Bactrian Grand Battleship. Following the heavy fighting at Bijar Prime and the Sea of Fire, she was withdrawn for repair and rearming; her current weakness made obvious by the three transports and a single Hayastani oiler attached via long umbilical cords. These long, flexible shafts would allow the crew to travel between ships in relative safety.
Kallinos and her small crew of mercenaries watched through the tiny vision slits on the prow of the corsair. Each was polarised and safeguarded by shielded slats that hung down over the slits like metal plates. These protected the vulnerable section more than any other part of the ship. With a final howl the engines blasted, and the ships swept in exactly as planned. Kallinos watched the view with interest as the enemy ships moved from dots to filling her view. The engines were now screaming until finally they had slowed to combat speed.
“Shields up, attack!” Kallinos said.
The eleven ships fanned out and forwards on an attack vector towards the six escort battleships. They were fast and caught the enemy completely by surprise. Unguided rockets pounded the two closest ships, and then came the volleys of ion cannons. These energy blasts were short-ranged, yet
could not be stopped by point-defence systems. Each impact sent surges of power through the shielding and knocked down power grids one at a time.
“Kallinos, they are preparing to counterattack,” said her number two.
Unlike the Terran ships, these smaller mercenary ships were far less dependent on technology, and instead made use of archaic equipment such as manual thrusters, gun controls, and navigation. The bridge contained just the handful of senior mercenaries, each of whom had a specific role. The interior was dark, with just small amounts of light bouncing off from the ceiling-mounted pin lights, and even less from the dull green glow of the tiny computer screens. These small circular units could easily have been from a ship a hundred years earlier, but unlike the more advanced systems on Terran and Median ships were designed to be simple. Whereas a complex system could fail under pressure, these more manual pieces of equipment proved completely reliable in the domain of direct-energy weapons that could knock out systems with a single ion blast.
“They are lowering their shields to launch fighters.”
Kallinos listened to her number two while carefully watching through the narrow windows. She could see the great battleships and also the dark shapes that marked the opening of hangars. There would be a short moment of opportunity.
“Attack pattern Gamma,” she said, without even considering the man’s words.
The order spread through to the other corsairs just as the return gunfire began. It was slow at first, and many of the capital ships missed due to the high level of jamming. In reply, the corsairs unleashed more rockets against the capital ships. The weight of fire, combined with the change in formation, meant the corsairs were now moving in two columns above and below a pair of battleships.
“Rotate and fire.”
One by one, the corsairs performed a quick barrel roll so that the guns on both sides were given a clear view of the battleships. They hammered the shielded sections while continuing to strike with rockets. By the time they reached the final battleship, the enemy vessels had broken formation to pursue. Dozens of fighters blasted out of launch pads to give chase. A heavy cutter ripped into the dorsal armour of Kallinos’ ship, and an alarm howled through the bridge.
“Shield the breach.”
She snapped loudly to one of the mercenaries and then took the controls herself. With a twist, the corsair spun about to bring the lower side of the hull that was still fully shielded to face the gunfire.
“Focus lower shielding and fire.”
The gunner took aim at the three nearest fighters and then opened fire. The automatic pulse cannons made short work of them. Streaks of red energy licked their hulls and knocked down the light shields. That smashed them apart with repeated hits. Another managed to spin out of the way and launch a pair of missiles, both of which bypassed the electronic countermeasures and struck near one of the already damaged solar sails.
“Power down eleven percent, shields failing on quadrants three and seven.”
Kallinos looked to her number two and swallowed. She had seen the look on his face before, and it was one that told her she needed to act, and fast. A quick glance of the battle schematic showed the enemy vessels were breaking formation, with fighters and warships changing formation to protect themselves from the corsairs, or in the case of the closer craft, to pursue them.
“Where the hell are...”
“There!” said the number two.
Off to the left, right behind the large group of battleships were the massive shapes of newly arrived Terran ships. At first it was just a few cruisers, but then came the battleships, a handful of computed Median battleships, and finally swept in the mighty Titan, Herakles. The ship was unlike anything else in this part of space; something that looked more like a giant kraken, bristling with weapons and hangar bays. To the uninitiated it might have easily been a streamlined starbase than a ship of war.
“Impressive.”
“It’s time to leave. Activate the...”
A burst of plasma fire from a nearby cruiser struck the damaged corsair beneath one of the engine nacelles. Though not devastating, it did knock out the faster than light engines, immediately removing their ability to escape the battle. Kallinos wiped her brow, skimmed over the damage status screen, and then began issuing orders.
“We’ll move to the other side.”
It took some careful manoeuvring, but in less than a minute the eleven corsairs were back into a loose group and heading away from the Titan Herakles. The battleships of the Hayastani tried to give chase but were already heavily engaged by the Titan’s escorts. Even so, as they continued onwards, they ran directly into the path of the second wave of Terran ships. This time there were two more Titans, plus the rest of the primary fleet. Their weapons lanced deep into the enemy ships, and in seconds it was looking like a rout.
“Kallinos, the transports are breaking formation.”
The personal Titans of Xenias and Chirisophus came in so close that one of the Hayastani frigates was cut clean in half. Both sides opened fired, but the transports carried a pitiful selection of weapons. The Titan kept on moving until it reached a position on the other side of the line of battleships. Now it came down to the few fighters and warships still combat effective to defend the transports. The only large warship amongst the transports was the Bactrian Grand Battleship, and not one of her guns opened fire. Kallinos spun them about so that they were protected by the gunfire of the newly arrived ships.
“Put me in touch with the Strategos. We’ll see where he wants us.”
“Yes, Kallinos.”
More and more ships jumped in, but Kallinos was much more interested in the swarms of smaller craft rushing out from the lighter Terran cruisers. She immediately recognised the shapes of the light cruisers under the command of Xenophon and Timasion.
“Wait, change that. I want to speak with him.”
She pointed at the prow of the aged and heavily worn-looking vessel.
“Antaeus?”
Kallinos nodded slowly to her number two.
* * *
Mercenary Raider ‘Night Scythe’, Fleet Assembly Point, Geghard Quadrant
The craft rocked violently as they were ejected from the hull of the light cruiser. Rather than making use of their engines, the raider had been cast out from the ship by its rotating action. This centrifugal force was something often done with the smaller capital ships and had been used in the past for archaic classes of Terran carriers. Three dromons exited the ship in the same way and joined the squadrons of craft heading for the Bactrian warship. The bulk of the vessel was taken up by the heavily armoured hold, a space perfectly designed to protect any form of precious cargo, from soldiers to crates of gold ingots.
Xenophon looked at the countdown on the inside of his helmet visor. There was no way to see what was going on from in the cargo hold, and as the craft began to shake, he found his impatience getting the better of him.
“Hey, where are you going?” Glaucon asked.
Xenophon looked back at him.
“Just make sure they’re ready. It won’t be long now.”
He moved up the small set of steps and into the rear of the cramped cockpit. Although the damage had been repaired following the escape and crash, there were still plenty of signs of the event. He passed a completely smashed computer mount that had been welded over with armour plates. It was good quality work, but added little but storage space to the craft.
“What’s wrong?” Tamara asked.
Xenophon was surprised the teenager could have even noticed him from this far back. He edged a little closer and towards the bulbous cockpit. The pilot occupied the space on the right while Roxana was wedged into what may have been the co-pilot’s spot in the past. Now a complicated looking gunnery unit had replaced the space that Tamara barely fitted inside.
“No problems here. Just checking on our progress.”
The one-eyed pilot looked back at him and yelled over the sound of the intercoolers powering u
p again.
“We’re clear. On approach to the target.”
Xenophon approached the man, grabbing a safety handle as the raider buffeted. It couldn’t be wing or turbulence in space, but the impact of rockets and guns on the shielding did affect their movement.
“There it is.”
Xenophon looked upon the ship with clear admiration showing. The vessel had taken a heavy beating in the Sea of Fire, yet for all the impacts she’d taken still looked relatively unscathed.
“What about her escorts? There were seven other Bactrian style ships last time we saw her.”
The raider twisted about just as a single powerful beam struck nearby. The heavy cutter could have easily knocked out their shielding with a single hit. Worse would be once the shields were down. Unlike the rockets and plasma weapons, the heavy cutters were incredibly powerful laser arrays. These guns would fire long bursts of energy capable of burning and cutting through the thickest armour. For a moment they lost track of the ships. A few more rolls and they were back on course, with a flight of dromons right beside them.
What are you doing out here? Roxana could have done this, or Glaucon. You should be commanding from the ship.
It was pointless, though. He was not a ship’s kentarchos, and had little interest in being one. As for the assault on the battleship, the plan had been made, and it was a simple one. They would have to board her and kill or capture her crew. The Strategos wanted the ship, and Xenophon for once agreed with him.
The Eternal Fortress (Star Legions Book 6) Page 4