The Eternal Fortress (Star Legions Book 6)

by Michael G. Thomas

  “No, of course not, my lord,” said Arteshban Qarz.

  He swallowed and looked uncomfortably towards Darbabad Forouzandeh. There was little in the way of solace to be found in that direction either. The Median noble was much more interested in looking out of her own window to the sprawling defences of the planet.

  “The weapon system is just part of the Fortress. Look around us and you will see.”

  Both of the Imperials looked out at the surface of the planet. There was little in the way of a logical layout, just a myriad of deep trenches, open spaces, towers, and grim-looking buildings. There were also a series of landing bays, deserted highways, and tall public buildings, none of which could match the style of the most desolate of Imperial planets.

  “This world is the ugliest I have ever seen,” said Darbabad Forouzandeh.

  Ariaeus nodded in agreement.

  “Yes. It is a metal and stone jungle, but I can see why it was done this way.”

  He looked back to the Arteshban.

  “So this trap, it will ensnare any force foolish enough to attack?”

  Arteshban Qarz smiled nervously.

  “There are no buildings or facilities on this world that do not have a military purpose. We have barracks, training grounds, runways for aircraft, and heavy weapons. I promise you, if ground troops try to do anything here, they will die here.”

  Ariaeus still seemed unconvinced.

  “Very well. I want a full threat assessment of this entire sector, and emergency drills starting in the next hour. Keep them random and work them hard. There must be no mistakes because trust me, the Terrans are coming this way, and they are cunning beyond words.”

  He then looked back out of the window and at the pyramid.

  If that thing is as good as they say it is, well, the Black Legion might be nothing more than dust minutes after they arrive.

  He thought of the Terrans and of the officers he had served alongside. Cyrus had been a wealthy donor, a man he benefitted from greatly in terms of status, power, and wealth. With the other officers dead he found he had little in common with those apparently in command. The only names he knew of for certain, was a low-ranking officer called Xenophon and one of Clearchus’ lackeys, Chirisophus. He nodded to Darbabad Forouzandeh, who at least seemed to be finally accepting his authority in this area.

  “Your ship, is it ready for combat?”

  She was quick to reply.

  “Of course, my Lord. My ship is in orbit and ready to assist regional forces in whatever capacity I can. Might I ask where your fleet has gone?”

  Ariaeus ignored her question.

  “There are thirty plus ships in orbit, most of them provincial cruisers and a few mercenaries. I want you to lead the perimeter defence around the Fortress. If anything comes through, you will keep them busy while the planetary weapon system destroys them, one ship at a time. Understood?”

  Darbabad Forouzandeh looked at him strangely before answering.

  “Of course, my Lord. I will command the defence of the planet to the best of my ability. The God King asked me to perform any task that was required to prevent the Terrans from escaping the Empire. I see this as the best way of completing this task.”

  Ariaeus scowled. Rather than simply accepting his orders, she had agreed to do so because it matched orders she had already been given. He considered saying something before remembering that he had already effectively given her marching orders.

  The Terrans will arrive, and soon. And when they do, they will be forced to deal with you. I can afford a delay before destroying all of their ships.

  A cruel smile formed on his face, one that even Darbabad Forouzandeh could not avoid.

  “My Lord?” she asked.

  Ariaeus might have said something else, but the thought of the battle was just too much.

  “I am just thinking about what is to come. The Black Legion is what they call themselves, and so far they have never known defeat. Is it possible we will do what the Emperor himself could never do?”

  Darbabad Forouzandeh lifted her eyebrows in mock surprise.

  “Perhaps. But did not the God King force them to retreat from Cunaxa, after defeating Lord Cyrus and his host. They may have not been destroyed, but the Emperor was able to halt them with merely his presence.”

  Ariaeus’ eyes tightened down at hearing these words. He had given the Darbabad an opportunity to come down on his side, and still she was incapable of doing so. He let her continue to speak while turning his attention to the walls and towers of the Eternal Fortress. Even when she began suggesting possible defensive formations for the orbital fleet, he said nothing. After the third approach to the pyramid, he looked back as politely as he could manage.

  “Darbabad, I will leave the defence of the space in your capable hands. Please stay in touch. I suspect the Terrans will arrive in due course.”

  CHAPTER TEN

  Trade Galleon ‘Paradiso’, Phrygian Convoy, Shattered Systems

  Tamara checked the timecode on her mobile communication unit for the third time. The pair of Laconian soldiers complained, but she ignored them and made sure she was certain how much time was left.

  “Ninety minutes. Is that going to be enough time?”

  The first Laconian, the one she had become friends with after he’d saved her from certain death, could do little more than shake his head in frustration. All three wore their military uniforms, but none had been allowed to carry major firearms with them. They’d been forced to take no more than pulse pistols and blades.

  “Tamara. It’s the same price, no matter how long we stay. The longer you stand around, the less time we get.”

  She shrugged and then turned to the Phrygian waiting at the brown semi-transparent door. Behind it was the flicker and flashes of light, but it was impossible to make anything out.

  “What’s the hold up?” asked his friend, “Are we going in or not? There’s not much of our leave left.”

  He then looked to Tamara.

  “The Strategos is giving each Pempas three hours leave for whatever we need.”

  Tamara laughed aloud.

  “Every other ship has granted a twelve-hour dispensation. You Laconians...”

  The second man lifted his hand and grabbed her arm.

  “Listen, child. Three hours is more than enough for us to rest our minds and bodies.”

  “The hall is ready for you,” said the Phrygian.

  He was small, even smaller than Tamara, and completely bald. His clothing was the most exotic, flamboyant, and foul-looking thing any of them had ever seen before. Yet his eyes seemed to spot everything. He extended his hand.

  “When you are ready.”

  The two Laconians handed over the required handful of loot, but for some reason Tamara remained hesitant. She looked at them both but fixated on the taller of the pair; the one that had become something of a friend to her, albeit as much a friend as any Laconian could be on a warship.

  “You’re sure this is going to be worth it? This is enough coin for me to buy anybody I want for a month.”

  The other Laconian laughed.

  “So what? The best you’ll get is twelve hours, and that will be nothing compared to the time you’ll have with us in there.”

  Tamara thought on it for a little longer and then handed over the coin.

  “Finally,” grumbled the shorter Laconian.

  The Phrygian smiled and then pressed a button. The door hissed open and was replaced with low lighting and a mist. The shorter Laconian entered, followed by his friend. Tamara grabbed him as he went ahead.

  “This had better be good, Dion,” she warned.

  He looked back at her for a moment, seeming almost affectionate towards her.

  “I promise you, this is something you will never forget. The Phrygians are famed for their elaborate scenarios. We paid a lot for this, and it will be worth it.”

  She followed him in, and in seconds the shopping mall-like interior of the massive
ship was gone, and she was moving out of a crag in a cliff and looking down to a small plateau upon which seemed to be a military camp. Off to her right were more cliffs, but at her current height she could just about see off into the distance.

  “There,” said Dion.

  He pointed to the right of the camp to where the cliffs separated into a tiny valley. The second Laconian looked down and sighed with pleasure.

  “It’s just as I imagined it.”

  Tamara looked at the scenery and the people moving about below. Though she could understand it was a significant scene for the two men, she still failed to see how the Phrygians had recreated something like this.

  “I don’t understand. Is it real?”

  Dion was already making his way down a narrow track to the camp just a hundred or so metres away. He looked at the confused Tamara.

  “It is and it isn’t real. All that matters is that is seems real to us.”

  The second Laconian swelled with pride at what he could see in the camp.

  “Tamara, this is a significant event in Laconian history. The story has been told so many times now that it has taken place at a hundred different times and in a hundred different ways.”

  Dion nodded in agreement, but Tamara seemed even more confused.

  “So why are we looking at men with primitive weapons?”

  They were at the bottom of the track and moving into the camp. Scores upon scores of men, each dressed in the full attire of the spatharii. They were almost identical to those she had met before, yet the differences stunned her. In their left arms they carried large round shields, and in their right, long wooden shafts tipped with iron.

  “This is insanity,” she said.

  Dion approached the first of the warriors and grabbed his arm in the Terran greeting.”

  “Brother. Is it time?”

  The man looked at him as though they had met a thousand times before.

  “The Argives approach. We are ready to fight.”

  Dion looked back to his comrade and to Tamara. At the same time a small group of spatharii approached and extended their hands to give them weapons.

  “Uh...what are these?” Tamara asked.

  The man opposite her was stripped to the waist and his body an entire history of cuts and scars.

  “This is your aspis shield.”

  He slid her arm into the straps, and she could immediately feel the heavy weight. From the inside it was clearly made from wood, yet the front was faced with a bronze coloured metal. She looked at the similar shield given to Dion. It bore the Lambda symbol seen on all Laconian equipment and ships.

  “And this will be your dory spear. I see you are already carrying your kopis.”

  The spear felt good in her hand, light but fast and tipped with the tiny metal tip.

  “And what is this?”

  She pointed to the other end of the spear where another heavy spike was fitted. One of the newcomers laughed at her question, but she was deadly serious.

  “Really?” asked the man.

  Tamara swung the weapon about and presented the metal spike to him.

  “Well, it is the sauroter, the lizard killer.”

  In demonstration the man lifted his spear to his shoulder, with the tip pointing up and the secondary spike slightly raised above the ground. With one quick movement, he struck the ground with the sauroter.

  “The sauroter.”

  Tamara lifted just her left eyebrow and then shook her head.

  “Uh, okay, if you say so.”

  The sound of a distant aulos echoed throughout the narrow valley.

  “Brothers, the Argives approach!”

  The aulos continued to sound, and one by one the spatharii marched out into the valley and beyond. Tamara and her two comrades joined a pempas of infantry in the middle of the formation.

  “Tell me again, why are we here, and why are the Argives here?”

  Another of the spatharii heard her and answered in a gruff voice.

  “Our commanders, in their eternal wisdom have come to an agreement. Instead of fighting a battle with our full strength, each side will present three hundred warriors to the battlefield.”

  “Exactly,” answered Dion, “This battle is not for land, or for honour, it is to be decided by the last warrior standing. Three hundred spatharii of Argos versus three hundred from old Laconia.”

  “Yes,” said the older warrior, “It will be a day long remembered.”

  Tamara continued to move one foot in front of the other, while the auletes continued to play the double flute known as the aulos. They were now out of the valley and moving into the open ground. With the higher ground to their backs, she could feel a cool breeze blowing through her clothing.

  How is this happening? We’re still on the ship, aren’t we?

  “Laconians, halt!”

  The spatharii were as one, a machine made up of flesh and metal. They were currently formed up in a long column, spaced apart, and easily able to move quickly on the battlefield. With the order to halt, the sound of feet vanished and was replaced by the distant sound of the enemy. Tamara couldn’t see past the men in front, but she could already feel the adrenalin beginning to build in her body, something she found immensely satisfying.

  “Eis bathos!”

  The formation changed quickly, with warriors shifting into a loose, open formation. More air pushed into the formation as the gaps increased in size. She looked behind her and gave up counting after spotting at least fourteen more people behind her. Turning back around there was only one man in front of her and there was a good gap between them. On her right-hand side was Dion, and to her left, the shorter form of Theras. Both could not have looked happier.

  “This is what you wanted?”

  Dion looked to her, a great smile stretching across his face.

  “Everything.”

  Tamara could see ahead and the shape of the approaching Argives. They were surrounded by dust, but she could still make out their spears and shields. Unlike the Laconians, they seemed to have different designs on their fronts. With a howl the Argives stopped, and the dust began to drift away from them. Shouting started, and then the Laconian commander called out just one word.

  “Ephodos!”

  Strange cries like a weird battle song increased in volume from the Argives, and they began to move forward. Tamara opened her mouth to join in but noticed none of the Laconians made a sound. Instead, they moved forward as one machine-like formation. The aulos started again, but this time striking a beat for the spatharii to march to. One foot followed the next, and then they were already halfway to the Argives.

  “Krousis,” Dion said to her as they marched.

  She looked at him with a confused look, but when she looked back, she could see the first four ranks of Laconians lowering their points towards the enemy.

  “Pycne,” called out the commander.

  Tamara looked to her friend who smiled and raised an eyebrow, though it was barely visible under his Corinthian helm.

  “Crunch time,” said Dion.

  Half of the rear ranks went forward, and in less than ten seconds the depth of the phalanx was cut down in size. The width stayed the same, but the frontage covered by each warrior dropped from two metres down to just under a metre.

  “Now!” Theras laughed.

  The front ranks of both phalanxes crashed together in a roar of flesh, metal, and blood.

  “Doratismos!” was the last word she heard as she stabbed ahead with her own spear. At the same time, the rest of the spatharii in the front four ranks did the same. They didn’t attack with single long strikes but presented a barrage of stabbing movements that were short but fast. Tamara reduced her reach and rather than trying to push the spearhead through her opponent, she pushed it no further than was required to strike a few centimetres inside her enemy’s armour.

  “Keep attacking!” Dion yelled.

  Tamara spotted the shape of a spearhead near her right shoulder, but th
e aspis shield of Dion lifted up and deflected the point at the last moment. Another scraped along the cheek plate of Theras. As it pulled back, she spotted blood dripping from the modest cut.

  You can be hurt here? I thought this was a game, a simulation.

  She looked ahead and found another spear coming her way. This time she took the impact on her own shield, and the head quickly snapped off. More attacks moved back and forth, and every few seconds another spear broke. One Argive came perilously close, and she stabbed the weapon hard into the man’s throat. He dropped down, pulling her spear with him as he went. Another struck her dory spear with the edge of his aspis shield and then it snapped.

  “Theras spotted what had happened and pointed at the rear butt spike.

  “Turn it around, like this.”

  She watched him raise his arm in a fist, lower it down to his side, and point the butt spike ahead. The reduced length of broken spear lay behind him.

  “Othismos!” said one Spatharii, and then the file commanders took up the word. Tamara had heard the word before, but it was an archaic term, and she had no idea what they meant for her to do. She beat aside another thrust and then looked to Dion.

  “Well?”

  He lifted his shield, moved his body close in behind it, and yelled to her, “Push!”

  The phalanx was already becoming ragged, and the fighting at the spearhead had now changed into a fight of a completely different character. The spears were being used, along with the shields, and even the bodies of the spatharii to push against the enemy. Those behind her pushed into her back, and she was quickly jammed in between her comrades. Leather and metal pushed against flesh, and she could hardly breathe.

  Stay up and on your feet.

  “Koprophage!” shouted an Argive.

  Tamara laughed out loudly at the man’s insult. It was something she might have expected from a child, not from a tall spatharios in the middle of a battle. She stabbed the man first in the upper arm and then under the nasal bar and into the face. She yanked back the broken spear, but somebody grabbed it and tried to pull it away.