The Eternal Fortress (Star Legions Book 6)

by Michael G. Thomas

  What the hell is that thing?

  He pointed to the bulbous dome behind the throne.

  “Open fire.”

  The Terrans came out from cover and put down a heavy volume of fire. Two more mercenaries were hit before the rest made it inside the dome. Glaucon gave signals, and the Terrans pushed on, keen to capture them before they could escape to wherever they were heading. They almost made it when the mercenaries vanished inside the dome, and it hissed shut behind them. Desma looked to him, her face showing signs of concern.

  “It’s an escape boat. We have to...”

  Xenophon had already worked it out and grabbed the nearest shattered pillar.

  “Hold on, she’s going to...”

  The dome vanished in a white flash, and then it was gone. The shockwave from the escape of the unusual vehicle was like another great energy blast, and few remained standing. It took a few seconds for them to get their bearings, but when Xenophon returned to his feet, he found the bridge empty of mercenaries and the ship his.

  “So, does this mean we have a new battleship?” Glaucon asked.

  Sound came from the side of the hall as a pair of oval doors slid open. A dozen Terrans took aim just as spatharii bearing the little known insignia of the Troas Territories entered and fanned out on each side.

  “Lower your weapons,” said Glaucon.

  The exhausted and blood splattered spatharii and stratiotes lowered their guns in time to see Timasion enter the Chamber. He marched in as if on parade and with a beaming smile on his face. The man made it ten more paces before he spotted the panting figure of his arch rival.

  “Xenophon, I thought you were...”

  “Dead?”

  Timasion considered his words, but instead looked back to his own men. The contrast in armour, damage, and fatigue could not have been more obvious. Nor was the fact that it appeared none of his men had even drawn their weapons yet.

  “Looks like I arrived just in time.”

  Glaucon took a step towards the man, his fists clenched and brow tight. Xenophon reached for his friend and pulled him back with his arm.

  “Yes, good idea. You should keep your dog shackled.”

  Timasion tapped his head, and Xenophon heard the message come in at the same time in his own helm.

  “Dukas, report. Is the Bactrian taken?”

  “Xenophon answered a fraction of a second first.”

  “Yes, Strategos. My forces are in control of the bridge. Timasion has arrived with reserves to help clear the rest of the ship.”

  Timasion breathed in hard through his nose, his expression stern and irritable.

  “Good work, Xenophon...You were right.”

  The last part came across as begrudging, but it was more than Xenophon had expected.

  “What about the rest of the fleet?”

  He looked to Timasion and was tempted to smile at the man. It would have been amusing to rub the man’s face in what had happened, but he also knew that such a short-term victory would come at a price.

  “All capital ships are captured or destroyed. The transports surrendered thirty minutes ago. One moment.”

  The audio alert altered, a subtle reminder that the Strategos had changed to a wide channel, one that all the Terran commanders could hear.

  “The battle for the Geghard Quadrant is over.”

  There was silence inside the Bactrian warship, not even a celebratory smile or cheer from the junior pentarchos. Xenophon looked to Glaucon, but it was Desma who caught his eye. He noticed the long gash running from her collar to her flank, a mark that could easily have been a deep penetration from a blade. By the way she was standing, he could only assume the layered armour had done its job. That, or the woman truly was as invincible as she looked.

  “The fleet can add four more battleships to our force, plus the entire squadron of heavy transports. This will more than make the operation worthwhile.”

  “Yes, that was why we were here,” complained Glaucon.

  “Early estimates show we have taken almost three hundred mercenaries prisoner, as well as more than a thousand Hayastani civilians. They will be divided amongst the Dukas for sale or ransom. Excellent work. Prepare your ships. We will leave as soon as the fleet is provisioned and ready.”

  * * *

  Xenophon waited patiently in the cavernous landing bay on the port side of the battleship. Already there were four dromons, and each seemed to vanish inside the great space. This was the only part of the ship that didn’t seem to represent a floating palace. It featured a flat, non-descript floor, painted in dull battleship grey. The ceiling was perhaps thirty metres tall and filled with metal framing, from which lights and cranes hung down. The whole of the one side of the hangar was taken up by a series of workshops and a single large control bay. Ten large windows filled the bay from where officers could manage and control the coming and going of various craft.

  “When properly crewed, she must have been one hell of a ship,” said Glaucon.

  Xenophon looked to his friend and then removed his helm. His hair was damp and matted from his exertion in the bloody battle.

  “The mercenaries on board are enough to manage her systems, but nowhere near enough to operate her as a full warship.”

  Glaucon raised one eyebrow with interest upon seeing the grin on Xenophon’s face.

  “What?”

  Xenophon pointed to the next dromon as it dropped down inside the hangar.

  “Why do you think I pushed for the taking of this beast? With the loss of Titan Olympia, we have more than enough spare crew going around, too many actually.”

  Glaucon did some quick calculations.

  “The crew from that one ship could manage half a dozen battleships.”

  Xenophon nodded in agreement.

  “So this Bactrian, and probably the rest of the vessels we’ve taken here today.”

  Though the Legion was known colloquially as the Ten Thousand to some, the name was definitely a misnomer. When arriving at Cunaxa, they had certainly brought roughly that number of spatharii and stratiotes. It didn’t include the crew and engineers that were needed to keep the scores of ships afloat, to manage the fighters and dromons, or even to look after the thousands of weapons and armour systems.

  “Interesting. And who might be commanding this ship?”

  Xenophon didn’t answer, but the expression on his face told him exactly what he was already thinking. Although the battleship was impressive, there were only a handful of people in the fleet that could truly appreciate the significance of such a vessel.

  “So, you fancy a Grand Battleship, all for yourself?”

  Xenophon shrugged.

  “It’s isn’t me. It is a statement. The Bactrian is a fusion of Medes and Terran design. We would be making the Legion, and anybody we run into, clear that we are something different. No Terran fleet has ever had a Bactrian in its number.”

  Glaucon looked confused and turned his attention to the newly landed dromon. The fight for the ship was over for Xenophon and his warriors, and now Timasion and his troops were busy examining every nook and cranny for signs of mercenaries or traps. They had turned from battle and destruction to the process of assessment and evaluation. Even as he watched medics take away his wounded, he could see they were about to be beset by a new scourge, the Black Legion’s small corps of engineers.

  “Look,” said Xenophon quietly under his breath.

  Anticensor Pericles had arrived, along with two score of his best-trained men and women. They filed out from the craft, each following an even smaller number of senior engineers. The Anticensor approached Xenophon and grimaced.

  “Dukas. I don’t understand why I am here, or why we are taking this ship. She has sustained substantial damage to her shielding and gunnery systems.”

  Xenophon let him finish before answering.

  “The ship is damaged, but we avoided hitting her engineering systems, habitation, or engine control. You should be able to get her re
ady for travel, quite quickly I would think.”

  The Anticensor did not seem amused.

  “Oh, you’ll be moving in less than an hour, but the only way this ship will be back to her factory spec will be six months in dry dock.”

  Another shape emerged from the dromon, and this time it was the beautiful face of Lady Artemas. Xenophon’s attention was immediately drawn away from the man and to her. She made her way down the ramp and approached before stopping alongside the chief engineer. Xenophon gave him his most charming smile, but Artemas spoke first.

  “I have brought some of the automatons we have collected along the way. At least twenty have experience serving aboard ancient Medes class warships, and many more were taken from Elamites.”

  Anticensor Pericles snorted.

  “Automatons, on a Bactrian?”

  Artemas sighed.

  “Yes, engineer, that is correct. This ship may be a mythical object to you, but the basic ship is modelled on the Imperial heavy Elamite class.”

  She looked to Xenophon.

  “With obvious aesthetic changes.”

  Xenophon tried not to laugh, especially as he could tell she was playing with the unfortunate man. When she looked back to him, she found his face was already beginning to turn a light shade of red.

  “The Strategos has offered a deal with all naval crew that are prisoners. They are to be given their freedom from the slave markets, if they elect to assist in crewing these new ships.”

  Glaucon rubbed his chin as he watched the first group of automatons, each wearing Terran Black Legion uniforms. Their smaller, less well-built figures left the clothes hanging off loosely on their bodies.

  “Why? We have enough crew already, don’t we?”

  Lady Artemas nodded.

  “Yes, but I have already spoken with them, as the senior member of the Imperial nobility in this fleet. They are keen to serve, and their knowledge will help get this ship, and the captured Elamites ready in less than a three days.”

  Again the Anticensor snorted.

  “Nonsense. The shielding units need replacing, and the hull.”

  He shook his entire body.

  “The hull is shot to pieces.”

  One of the automatons approached, stopped alongside Artemas, and spoke quietly. The androgynous form was far from the muscular figures of the Terran warriors, but this one still seemed confident, almost cocky in attitude. Artemas nodded politely and then looked to the Anticensor.

  “This is the chief engineer of the battleship ‘Sraosha’. He was in command of Darbabad Qahreman’s flagship and will assist you in your operations.”

  The Median engineer bowed slightly in the presence of the man.

  “I have identified breaches in three points, all near the secondary nacelles. They can be fixed with parts from Elamite Yutanga.”

  The accent was thick and the language slow. Yet the words made sense, and that seemed to irritate the Anticensor even more. He walked away with the Median engineer hot on his tail. Artemas reached out, grabbed Xenophon, and pulled him close to her. At the same time, a dekas of Terran warriors approached from one of the many elevators. The open platform was big enough to move a dromon-sized craft, and at the head of this group was a tall, heavily armoured warrior. They walked quickly and stopped alongside the embracing pair.

  “Dukas,” said the spatharios.

  Xenophon turned his head and found him looking at the figure of Desma.

  “Yes.”

  Lady Artemas released him and examined the Terran from head to toe. She seemed equally irritated and fascinated by the interruption.

  “We’ve secured the bridge, and one of our teams reached the ship’s computing core. Timasion was already there and has slaved the computer system directly to portable units from our stores.”

  “And?”

  “We have mapping data and ship movements for the last month.”

  She handed over a small portable access point, a hardened computer system with limited range that offered a mirror of the imagery on the bridge. Xenophon examined it, and Glaucon leaned over to look at the finer details. Finally, he looked back to Desma.

  “You believe this is accurate information?”

  She nodded warily.

  Xenophon turned to Artemas and Glaucon.

  “We’ve got much more than we bargained with here. We have the routes used by all military ships throughout this entire region of space, and also this.”

  Lady Artemas looked at the data briefly.

  “You have intercepted logs with Ariaeus and the Emperor?”

  Desma nodded slowly.

  “Apparently.”

  Lady Artemas read further and stopped upon examining the last section.

  “According to this, the Emperor himself has ordered all mercenary forces disbanded in Hayastan. They are abandoning Tirbazus to his war with the Carduchians.”

  She pointed at the point a third the way inside the old realm of the Taochi.

  “If this data is accurate, it means Ariaeus has lost his mercenaries and his chance to stop us. There is a recall order here.”

  “Recall order?” Glaucon asked.

  Even Lady Artemas seemed unwilling to explain further. Glaucon asked again, though, and she felt obligated to explain.

  “A recall to the Emperor can mean only one thing, and that might be why Lord Ariaeus has vanished from the record. He had been banished.”

  Those words surprised all of them. Xenophon looked to Desma who seemed almost embarrassed at having brought up the information.

  “Very well. We need to assemble the Dukas. It looks like we have an opportunity to get out of here once and for all.”

  Glaucon rubbed his hands together.

  “Hayastan and then the Shattered Systems. After that, it is open space and the voyage home.”

  Even as he said the words, he found them hard to believe. He looked back at the imagery and the shape of the final satrapy they would need to travel through. More engineers came through, and Xenophon stood to one side so that he could speak with Lady Artemas.

  “So what is the Shattered Systems all about?”

  * * *

  Scythian class battleship ‘Mithra’, Sector Seven, Shattered Systems

  Tir entered the deck, one step at a time towards Ariaeus. He moved with the poise and purpose only a pre-programmed machine could ever be capable of. Each time his feet struck the ground, a metallic echo spread around him. The crew either ignored him, or pretended not to notice the metal machine that Ariaeus had used so effectively to take control of the ship. He stopped and dropped down to one knee.

  “Ships are ready.”

  Ariaeus nodded and then turned his attention on the view outside. He was beginning to find the feeling of power and control to be intoxicating from here. Disconnected from the crew, he could watch the star systems, command ships, and make decisions that would end lives, all while not having to see a single face. It was perfect for him, the only part of the operation that concerned him being the Emperor. Every hour he’d been forced to send back status reports so that those higher up could manage his operation. For now it was just him, with Tir waiting just a few metres away.

  Almost time to go.

  He watched the cables detach from the second tanker in the robotic squadron. The vessel was almost as large as the Mithra, yet all it contained was the fuel he sorely needed to reach his objective. The rest of his small contingent of ships had already taken their fill and waited in formation for their orders. Ariaeus could hear footsteps and instinctively leaned to the side to get a look at the figure approaching. Since the betrayal of Lord Ruhollah, he was finding it hard, if not impossible to trust any of them.

  “My Lord, we are fully fuelled,” said the new Sarvan, “The tanker is dry, and her computer system reports they will be unable to continue with us.”

  Ariaeus smiled as he recognised the nerves in the automaton’s voice. The poor fool was an unknown officer on the ship, one of many Ariae
us had chosen from. He’d deliberately avoided the most experienced of them, for fear of yet more betrayal.

  “Good, it is time for our penultimate jump. We go, now.”

  From inside his obsidian command unit, he selected each of the ships in his small fleet, sent them the next location waypoints, and then gave the orders. In just a few seconds the first of the ships had already jumped. Some of the tankers moved with them, but two, the vessels that were now completely devoid of fuel were stuck, drifting in space with no way to move.

  “Ah, yes, what to do with you two?”

  He had already decided, but the feeling of making it a spur of the moment decision amused him greatly. A quick scan through his command options and he sent the signal. Then he sent the jump order, and with a loud whine the ship accelerated away to the next waypoint. As they rushed from the scene of the refuelling, the first of the tankers activated its scuttling charges. Ariaeus laughed aloud as he watched both of the large ships tear themselves apart in a serious of small blasts that crippled them.

  If I cannot use them, nobody will.

  The ship continued to accelerate, and he watched the nearest stars moving past at great speed. Off behind them were the stars that never seemed to move. Those that truly were unfathomable distances, even to him. Seconds drifted by, then minutes, perhaps even hours. The patterns of stars were like a drug but nothing, not even this journey could last forever. Finally, the engines sent a shudder through the ship, and he could feel the subtle changes of the deceleration process beginning.

  “My Lord,” said the Sarvan.

  Ariaeus sighed and then moved to the gap in the obsidian plating. The Sarvan had little role, now that he had taken control of the ship. The Sarvan operated as more of an executive officer, one that could keep the other crew in order.