The Eternal Fortress (Star Legions Book 6)

by Michael G. Thomas

  Got to keep moving.

  He looked back at the side of the heavily damaged keep and the wrecked raider. Night Scythe was one of the best-constructed light transports he’d ever come across, and the nearer he came to it the more he was surprised at what had survived.

  “No...please!”

  He looked back as a pair of mercenaries lowered their firearms and dispatched a wounded spatharios. It was hard to tell the colour of the armour, but he could see another Arcadian making a run for it. The mercenaries laughed, taking pot shots at him before finally hitting him in the back of the head.

  Butchers!

  Glaucon had assumed they were soldiers in the pay of Ariaeus, but when they looked back, he could see they were Terrans like him, and bearing the mark of Timasion and his treacherous troops. He desperately wanted to reach for his sidearm, but as they moved about looking for survivors, he knew they would kill him.

  No, not one or two of them. I want the whole rotten basket!

  Glaucon dragged his shattered body up the side ramp of the raider and fell inside. The raider had twisted about in the crash so that its nose pointed back into the compound and in the direction of the dead, wounded, and dying. As he hid from view, he heard shouting.

  “Dekarchos, there’s somebody in the wreckage!”

  The words were followed by shots into the fuselage. Few penetrated, and only those that found existing tears in the hull could punch through. He moved another metre and then stopped as lights began flashing from within the craft.

  The nose gun battery.

  Incredibly, the quadruple gun mount was still intact and somebody was at the controls. The guns unleashed an incredible roar, and the shouting outside quickly turned to panic. He grabbed one of the broken wall mounts and then reached the steps up to the cockpit. The pain was excruciating, but he fought it and climbed to the top and looked inside.

  “Tamara?”

  The red-haired teenager looked back at him. A thin line ran down her face, and her hair was matted and filthy.

  “What are you doing in here?”

  She turned back to the gun controls and opened fire. The wrecked craft shook and shuddered as the chin turret put down round after round. The return fire was increasing, and the clatter of projectiles grew louder and louder.

  “I came here with them.”

  Tamara pointed to the bodies of two Night Blades, both of whom had been cut down through a tear in the hull of the craft. Glaucon reached her and lifted his head up to look through the wrecked windows. Outside were scores of flickering lights as small arms were fired at them. Tamara tracked them and blasted away, ignoring any of the return fire.

  “Are you hurt?” he asked.

  She shook her head.

  “Just a cut to my head. They can’t hit me today.”

  She then looked to him, suspecting the worst. The bullet holes in his armour were the first thing she spotted, and then the trail of blood behind him.

  “We need to get you to...”

  “No. I’m here for the atomics.”

  Tamara stopped firing for just a moment.

  “They are still on board?”

  Glaucon did his best to smile.

  “The controls are to your left.”

  Tamara turned around and looked at the twisted wreckage to her side.

  “Uh, no. There is nothing here.”

  Glaucon forced himself closer, grunting as he struggled. Blood bubbled from the wound in his chest, and he coughed, sending a further spurt of blood against the back of her seat. He looked down at the wreckage and shook his head.

  “Yeah, that’s not good. I’ll have to trigger it manually.”

  Tamara shook her head and then took aim once more. She looked for targets while Glaucon reached down behind the weapon system and pulled out the power coils. There was a short spark, but the fusillade of shots hit nearby and drowned out the sound. Pieces of broken metal flew about the interior, and one struck him in the chest and ricocheted off into the bulkheads. Tamara pulled the trigger and nothing happened.

  “Dammit!”

  She yanked at the controls but nothing changed.

  Glaucon placed his hand on hers.

  “Get out of here, Tamara. You can’t do much good with the guns down. I will take care of this. You need to get the others to safety.”

  Tamara pulled herself out from the confines of the gun mount and grabbed him. They moved to the back of the cockpit and then down the steps. Glaucon groaned so much that she thought he would pass out. He refused to go down, though, and fought back the pain. They were now in the passenger compartment, and Glaucon dropped down near the left side. A quick pull revealed a panel filled with rubberised hoses. He pulled out his blade and cut back the rubber to the wires inside. More shots hit to the left.

  “They are close. I need you to give me a distraction. Can you run?”

  Tamara looked carefully at him. She leaned in close and kissed him fully on the lips.

  “Yes, I can do that.”

  He did his best to smile.

  “Good. Use the right ramp and hug the wall. Make sure they see you and head along the wall. Get as far away from this keep as you can. I’ll give you thirty seconds.”

  Tamara wanted to say more, but the sound of voices was louder, and her instinct for self-preservation, as well as the look on her friend’s face, was more than enough to encourage her to move.

  “Go!” Glaucon yelled.

  Tamara grabbed a cut down Doru rifle from one of the dead Night Blades and jumped out from the side of the craft. There were immediate shouts and then three short bursts of fire. The shots were controlled and precise, just as Glaucon would have expected from her.

  “Good work.”

  The sounds of shouting faded as more and more of the enemy gave pursuit. He could no longer tell what was happening, and could only hope she had survived. He looked down to the cable and pulled out more cables. The ones to the weapon controls were on separate circuits and coloured differently to those used by the raider.

  “Hands up!”

  Glaucon looked to his left and at the face of one of Timasion’s spatharii. The Terran held a rifle in his hands and pointed it at his chest. The man’s finger was on the trigger.

  “Up, I said!”

  The man turned his head a little so whoever was outside could hear him.

  “I’ve got a live one in here.”

  Glaucon lifted his hands slowly, keeping the knife mainly hidden behind the palm of his hand. The Terran soldier relaxed and lowered the rifle to repeat himself to his comrades. Glaucon nearly laughed in amusement.

  You idiot.

  He cast the blade at the man with the speed and precision of a circus performer. The blade struck just below the chin and bit down deep into the man’s throat. He instinctively dropped his weapon, stumbled over backwards, and fell from the craft. Glaucon considered for the briefest moment to grab his fallen weapon, but then looked back to the cables.

  It is time.

  * * *

  Tamara had never run so fast in her life. With the battle mainly over, there was no great confusion, and the automatons and soldiers of Ariaeus were busy marching their prisoners in long columns. The odd crackle of gunfire reminded her that there were still those fighting. She ducked and dived behind any cover she could find and then sprinted along the base of the wall. As she passed one of the large ribbed sections, a hand reached for her.

  “Get off me!”

  The hand came closer, and then a pair of automations tried to grab her. One carried a rifle and the other something resembling a double-bladed axe. The one with the gun aimed it at her chest, and she was forced to stop. A dark red hole appeared in his forehead and he collapsed. The second looked about fearfully, and then two more holes opened up his chest. Teresa was off before his body even hit the ground. Not once did she look back, ever fearful of what creatures or weapons would be arrayed against her. She heard a familiar sound in her ear; it was the communication
s node. Hers had been silent since the betrayal by Timasion.

  “This is Komes Devereux of the Battleship Aegospotami. All Terran units, if you are able, please respond. Help is coming; we will not leave you alone. Resist wherever you can. Show us where you are.”

  Tamara looked up into the sky and at the variety of shapes. It was still filled with the burning arcs of debris. They could just as easily have been a ship or piece of shipyard. It was simply impossible to tell. A number of flashes blinked in the sky, and she wondered if they were missiles or ships exploding.

  “Roxana, is that you?”

  The friendly voice came right back, “Tamara? What’s happening down there?”

  Tamara swallowed.

  “We’re in trouble, big trouble.”

  She slid behind a damaged section of wall and looked back, making sure she’d escaped. Small groups of prisoners were already struggling with their guards. One group was shot down in cold blood, but another had overwhelmed the automatons and was running to find cover near a broken dromon. Amongst them was a large woman, one that Tamara could easily recognise.

  “Desma.”

  Two shots struck the stonework, and a sharp splinter ripped out and hit her face. She turned back and ran as fast as her legs would take her. She’d almost forgotten about Roxana as she ducked to avoid more shots.

  “Get soldiers down here fast. We don’t have long.”

  The audio crackled and hissed, but Roxana quickly returned.

  “The weapon. We cannot land until the weapon is eliminated.”

  Tamara sucked in air as more shots hit around her.

  “The shield will be down soon. We’ve put measures in place. You’ll need to take care of the weapon.”

  She jumped out from cover and ran towards three bodies, all of which carried weapons and ammunition. She slid alongside the first, a dead Attican stratiotes. His Doru rifle lay on the ground, barely scratched and fitted with a shortened stock and heavily engraved. Tamara lifted it, activated the weapon, and raised it to her shoulder. She then twisted about, spotted one of her assailants, and pulled the trigger. A single pulse round struck the man in the neck, and he dropped down, blood squirting from the wound.

  Nice.

  “Understood, Tamara. Stay safe down there. Tell me anything you can about the landing sites.”

  * * *

  Bactrian Grand Battleship ‘Aegospotami’, Shattered Systems

  “Strategos Chirisophus has engaged the enemy reinforcements. Both sides are locked into combat and taking heavy fire,” said Dekarchos Leontius.

  Roxana was also watching the images coming in on the smaller screens that were still fitted in the ship. The great space battle appeared to be equal in numbers, but that was hardly new to her or the Legion.

  “That weapon on the planet will decide the battle, not these ships. Chirisophus can deal with them without issue. That is not what concerns me.”

  She looked at the planet, flinching as the beam licked up from it and was displaced by yet more of the broken shipyards. One particular section exploded in an impressive fireball.

  “We don’t have much time. If that thing can lock on to us and avoid the debris, we will be gone. Not even this ship can hold against firepower of that magnitude.”

  Her crew remained calm, and lights flashed all around them from multiple craft.

  “Shields at sixty-five percent and holding,” said Dekarchos Icarus, her chief engineer.

  The ship shouldn’t have been holding together, at least that was what Roxana thought. They were travelling too fast, and there was no chance for them to avoid entering the planet’s upper atmosphere rather than staying in low orbit.

  “And the missiles?”

  Dekarchos Leontius paused as he checked.

  “Coming into range...now.”

  “Fire!”

  The forward batteries opened up simultaneously. A mixture of heavy cutters and powerful plasma cannons that cut into the group of atomic weapons. She would liked to have seen the bow weapons battery involved, but that was something for the future, if at all.

  “Three destroyed. Two have entered the upper atmosphere.”

  Roxana swallowed and almost choked. There was nothing to do but watch as her crew targeted and fired at the missiles one at a time. She only blinked after another was eliminated in a small flash until one by one, they were destroyed, and in less than twenty seconds the immediate threat was over.

  “All targets accounted for.”

  Roxana exhaled with relief.

  “Good work, outstanding. That might buy a little time for our people down there. And maybe even a fighting chance to knock out that weapon.”

  “I can’t pull us out, not yet,” said the helmsman, Dekarchos Skiron of Plataea.

  The ship shook violently as their course took them into the thinnest part of the atmosphere, leaving a column of black smoke behind them as the friction increased.

  “All power to shields. Prepare our weapons and assault craft.”

  A bright light lit up the space in front of the ship, and the ground-based weapon obliterated another heavy cruiser. This time it took less than two seconds to destroy the ship in its entirety. The weapon had managed to strike between two large pieces of flotsam, scoring a direct hit on the fat belly of the Alliance vessel.

  This is going to be close.

  She tapped her own communications node.

  “Lady Artemas, are you ready?”

  It was a short pause before she heard a reply.

  “Yes, I am with the spatharii. Tell me when we can leave. The transports are with us, all of them, and they keep telling me they are ready for...what was it?”

  Roxana waited patiently, but it was only a pause of perhaps two seconds, three at the most.

  “Payback, they want to hit them, and hard.”

  “Understood. They will get their chance, I promise you. Just hold on. This is going to get rough!”

  As if to emphasise that point, an entire section of detailed architecture tore off the dorsal section of the hull, and although mainly for decorative purposes, it did take four turret mounts and a pair of shield emitters with it. The howl and groan from the ship made it seem as if the vessel had been stabbed with an ancient lance.

  “We’re going down. I can’t regain control!” Dekarchos Skiron complained.

  Roxana was having none of that.

  “Nonsense. Keep us stable and prepare to boost our engine power. We can climb out of this as soon as we release the atomics and our landers.”

  Dekarchos Skiron looked at her in astonishment. She could see his confusion.

  “This is a high-speed low orbit insertion. Nothing more.”

  He looked to Dekarchos Icarus, but the chief engineer just shrugged and turned back to his screen.

  All we need is Xenophon to do his part. Shut off that damned shield before we’re turned to toast! Tamara had better be right.

  * * *

  The Eternal Fortress, Shattered Systems

  Xenophon lost his footing as the powerful blast struck the transport. The first wave lifted it from the ground, and subsequent strikes tipped them over multiple times. By the time it stopped, the craft was on its side and most of the crew injured or dead. He pulled himself to his feet, grabbing the first carbine he could find. The weapon was neither Terran nor Medes, and presumably came from one of the mercenaries.

  Get out and do it quickly!

  He didn’t bother checking for signs of Ariaeus, and instead leapt on top of a broken crate and then up through the hatch that had originally been the side of the transport. He pulled himself through and then rose to his feet. The entire area was full of dust, but off into the distance and along the shield wall was a massive fire where the keep had been. The explosion was large enough that it had knocked down two towers, opening a hole a hundred metres wide in the shield wall.

  The shield, it’s down.

  He wanted to shout it out, but there was nobody of note around. Terrans
and other warriors lay about, knocked to the ground by the shockwave, but as they returned to their feet, a great brawl had broken out. Many of the captured Terrans had turned on their captors, and some had even grabbed weapons. Xenophon spotted a dozen automatons forming up into a line to shoot. He took aim with the carbine and killed two; the rest scattered to find cover. He found another group, but this time they were pointing up to the sky and then running.

  “What’s going on?”

  Xenophon looked up and at the shapes of eight micro-warheads. He recognised the pulsing engine signature as they accelerated down and directly at the pyramid. They came lower and faster before he even realised the danger he was in. Micro-warheads were the only type of atomics usually used by Terran warships. They were clean versions of the ancient atomic weapons but designed to create vastly smaller explosions. They were rarely used in space, due to them being slow and easy to intercept, as well as useless against the shielding of capital ships. Against an unprotected ground target they could vaporise an entire city block.

  Jump!

  Xenophon threw himself from the transport and hit the ground on the other side as the warheads struck their target. The explosions were as powerful as those that had torn apart the Night Scythe, except these were all around the pyramid. The explosions were like ripples and covered the area in clouds of thick dust and heat.

  Now!

  Xenophon came out from behind the transport, straight into a pair of Night Blades. Both were armed with rifles and keeping low.

  “Xenophon?” asked the first.

  He smiled and pointed to the flashes of light further along the shield wall.

  “We have survivors. Let’s help them.”

  There was no need to persuade them, and they covered the ground quickly, leaving the broken transport far behind. Other smaller groups of Terrans came towards them, even a pair of Timasion’s soldiers who blasted a small squad of automatons before running over to them.

  “What are you doing here?” Xenophon asked.

  The first bore a scar on the left side of his face.