“Lord Cyrus. As you know, my local forces are engaged in a long and drawn out war on the frontier. We are making headway against the Lydian pirates, but they have enlisted the help of Mulacs to split my forces. Cappadocia has only one habitable island, and at its centre is the fortress city.”
Clearchus took a step closer to the screen, ensuring he gained the attention of the Satrap.
“Yet you are here, and neither fighting the Mulacs or the Lydian pirates?”
“My troops are more than capable. There were, however, rumours that the Mulacs might try and hit our undefended planets, but I was too late. When I arrived, they had already landed. The initial attacks were against the outlying settlements, and they have all been demolished by orbital bombardments. The animals used atomic weapons on the surface. The survivors are inside the fortress city and doing their best to defend it.”
“That is why we are unable to perform effective scans of the surface?” asked Cyrus.
Tissaphernes nodded.
“Exactly, but it is more serious than you might think. If the fortress falls, they will be able to hold it indefinitely. I cannot state how important it is to this sector that Cappadocia is kept under the control of the Median Empire. It isn’t just a fortress. It is also a massive foundry and manufacturing complex. Half the citizens of the planet work there. Ships, weapons and supplies can be built or assembled in almost limitless quantities. If the Mulacs are successful, they could establish an almost impregnable base here.”
Clearchus was becoming less and less patient. He interrupted the two leaders.
“Perhaps if you had garrisoned it with sufficient forces, this wouldn’t have happened.”
Lord Cyrus turned to his military commander and lifted one eyebrow.
“Strategos, perhaps you could monitor the operation on the surface. I will conclude this matter with Satrap Tissaphernes.”
It was perfectly clear this wasn’t a request. He nodded to both men and turned away from the display. The large three-dimensional model of the planet’s surface was in the middle of the command deck and the dromons were making good time. He stepped in closer and watched the progress of his forces. Kleandridas was busy giving orders and spotted his approach. He finished whatever it was that he was saying and turned to his commander.
“Strategos, our first wave, under the command of Dukas Xenias, has made planetfall, and they are due to land at the co-ordinates given to us by Tissaphernes in the next ten minutes.”
Clearchus appeared satisfied with the information, but something was eating away at him. He examined the landing site dispositions.
“Good. Do we have any intel on the region yet? I do not like sending in nearly two thousand troops to an area we know nothing about.”
“Nothing solid. Tissaphernes says this is one of the main camps for the Mulacs. We managed to burn through the radiation twice, and our scans confirmed there is a camp there. We don’t know much else.”
“I see.”
He lifted his right hand and moved it over the icon for the command dromon. It was marked slightly different to the rest of the small craft making their way down to the surface. A video feed appeared from inside and showed the Dukas and his immediate commanders.
“Dukas.”
“Strategos. We’re due to land shortly. I will send the signal once we have established a solid beachhead in the enemy lines.”
“Good work. How many troops do you have available?”
“I’ve brought half of my spatharii, so just under two thousand warriors plus all of my three hundred stratiotes. Pasion is commanding the rest as a reserve force aboard Olympia, should we need assistance.”
“That should be more than enough to secure the objective. My own troops are already on the way. They should be striking the higher levels in approximately twenty minutes.”
“Understood, Strategos. My forces should be able to occupy the besiegers on the lower levels so you can land unmolested,” he paused for a few seconds and the feed jumped a little. “We are in visual range, taking light anti-aircraft fire. Wait, I am detecting substantial air defences and counter measures. Wait, I can see…”
The signal decayed to the level that only the odd single word came through.
“Sir, the radiation must have blocked their signal,” explained one of the junior communication officers.
Clearchus felt uncomfortable. He had always been a front line commander, but this was not the kind of combat he was familiar with. Laconian Dukas and Strategos were famous for fighting in the front ranks of the ground forces.
“Signals don’t just vanish, and I’ve never come across radiation causing this much trouble. Something is wrong, and I’m not about to let us lose an entire tagma of troops to a mistake. Prepare my spatharii. I want them ready to leave in ten minutes.”
His officers rushed about, all sensing something sinister was going on. The loss of this many troops would stop the campaign, and their employment, before it even started. What rankled Clearchus the most wasn’t the casualties they might sustain. No, what really annoyed Clearchus was that the first battle of the Ten Thousand would be spearheaded by mercenaries, and under the command of an Arcadian, rather than a Laconian.
Something about this place doesn’t seem right, he thought, as he walked from the command deck and left the operation in the capable hands of his topoteretes. The further he got from the deck, and the closer he moved to his command dromon, the happier he felt.
* * *
The Night Blades spearheaded the wave of Arcadian dromons as they sped past the mountain range and on towards the Citadel. From a distance, the massive structure looked like a single mountain, but the mapping software showed it was actually a mountain range of at least a dozen peaks. The five closest had been used to create a fortified ring around the centre that contained the bulk of the manned structures. The group of nearly thirty spacecraft looked like a dark cloud of angry bugs. Each left a stream of vapour behind as they moved through the low level clouds. Columns of smoke on the ground were telling reminders of the devastation already done by the Mulac atomics. Small groups of fighters circled the fortress, but a surprisingly significant amount of defensive fire cut upwards. At least two fighters tumbled down in a black trial of smoke and wreckage.
“This is incredible,” said Roxana, as she watched the burning downs flash past them.
“Why nuke the place if they want to loot it?” asked Glaucon. It was a good question, and none of them appeared to have any kind of an answer for him.
All of this was new to Xenophon. He had never been in a dromon before and certainly never into battle. Unlike the ships he had served on during his brief time in the Navy, this vessel was completely different. It was an assault ship and decked out with thick armour and a large bay for the troops. It looked much like a beetle with its extended landing legs and multiple engines fitted. The nose bristled with six large calibre pulse cannons capable of shredding walls, vehicles and men. None of this compared to the dorsal turret that sat directly above them. It carried a pair of heavy pulse cannons, each one able to fire a projectile the size of a man’s fist. As well as giving the dromon substantial firepower during landing, it allowed the vessel to be used as a static defensive position once on the ground. At least, that was what Xenophon had been told. He thought a little more about what Glaucon had asked.
“Perhaps they only want or need the fortress?”
Dekarchos Maxentius looked through one of the tiny observation windows and back to his small team. The unit was divided up into ten man teams. An experienced dekarchos commanded each team.
“Get ready, we’re nearly there!” he called out over the din of the dromon’s engines.
“Remember, our job is to smash a hole in their line, and then establish a secure landing zone for follow-up waves. The Laconian spatharii can’t hit the higher levels until we have pulled enough of their defenders down to engage us. We are the bait, and the Laconians will be the hammer.”
; Xenophon and the rest of his squad sat in silence, thinking about the plan and the risk in the part they were about to play in it. The Night Blades were the lightest of the infantry being put on the ground and would be extremely vulnerable if not provided with the numbers and protection offered by the spatharii. He glanced at the rest of the men and women inside the vessel. There were fifteen squads armed with the best weapons, armour and equipment any Terran army had probably ever had access to. Following their success in the initial trials, he had experimented with a variety of different weapons, but he kept coming back to the dual Laconian Asgeirr-Carbines. Out of those in his ten-man squad, Dekarchos Maxentius stuck out more than any other. Whereas the rest of the squad were busy checking their gear, he was spending all his time either watching the rest of the unit or looking at their landing site. Xenophon glanced at him, trying to imagine what he was thinking as they hurtled towards battle. Maxentius was a hard teacher, a man with years of combat experience and an almost unfathomable sense of humour, but he was also an excellent shot and a skilled warrior. Xenophon was nervous, but serving under a man such as their Dekarchos gave him great confidence.
Tamara and Jack were busy arguing about something to do with weapons. It was a trifling point to have caused such a furore, but at least it was keeping them from worrying about the landing. A great vibration ripped through the craft, and at first it felt as though the vessel itself had been hit. The Dekarchos looked to his team and smiled at them.
“The heavy pulse cannons,” he explained with a pointing gesture above his head. He tapped the side of his helmet where the communication and telemetry unit was attached. It provided video feeds and tactical data between all the troops in the Armada. It would also let him check the on the tactical surveillance provided by the gun cameras fitted to the dromons. It took only a few seconds for him to establish what was happening.
“Looks like targets of opportunity. The enemy compound is close and already taking heavy fire from our fighters.”
He removed his hand and did a final check on his weapon, a heavily modified Arcadian Doru Mk II pulse rifle. As well as an improved optical sight, it was also fitted with a co-axial low-velocity plasma projector. Xenophon’s attention was taken by an image that appeared on the video helmet mount. It showed the leader of the Night Blades, Komes Pasion.
“Night Blades, we will hit the ground in sixty seconds. It looks like the enemy have already breached the fortress walls and are fighting along the perimeter. We will take their primary forward operating base and eliminate their siege artillery. This will allow the rest of the dromons to land near the ground levels of the fortress. Unit commands are being uploaded to your Dekarchos, good hunting!”
The video vanished and was replaced by a similar feed from Maxentius. It would allow him to stay in permanent contact with his immediate commander. The helmet also showed detailed tactical information on the helmet’s heads-up display.
“Ten-seconds,” he said with a firm tone.
The engines roared as the dromon altered its height to bring it down to the enemy forward base. It was almost deafening in volume and then stopped almost as soon as it had started. The four main doors blew open and ramps dropped from each to give them quick and easy access to the ground. Dekarchos Maxentius was the first out of the ship, closely followed by Glaucon and the remainder of the squad. Xenophon ripped off his straps and jumped out after them and into the open. As his feet hit the ground, he realised it was the first non-Terran world he had ever set foot on. He didn’t have time to take in the moment, as hundreds of projectiles were already smashing around the landing site. He looked up to see the low walls running in a ring around the Citadel. According to the plans, the Mulacs were trying to break in, yet the gunfire appeared to be coming directly from the walls.
“Get into cover, now!” barked Maxentius.
Xenophon ran after the rest of their group, only to see the two in front of him disintegrate from a high explosive blast. He had no idea who they were and ran past their crumpled remains, praying it wasn’t one of his close friends. Glaucon was already dug in behind a rocky ridge and returning fire with his plasma cannon. Unlike the training weapon, this one was hurling deadly glow orbs of white-hot plasma at their tormentors. Dozens more of the mercenaries were already dug in, doing their best to avoid the deadly barrage of fire.
“What’s going on?” he shouted, forgetting that their helmet communications ear was easily capable of sending clear audio signals. A series of unguided rockets rushed overhead and slammed into their recently vacated dromon. The first two rockets did little but tear holes into the fuselage, but the third must have hit a fuel line or ammunition store. It exploded in a bright red flash, sending large parts of its structure over an area of nearly fifty metres.
“Return fire, keep them busy till the heavies get here!” ordered Maxentius.
Xenophon looked over the ridge, being careful to not leave himself too exposed. He could see over a dozen dromons lined up almost as if on parade. The armed variants were blazing away at a series of improvised defensive positions along the outer wall of the Citadel. Along the parapets were hundreds of enemy soldiers. They were all wearing dull metal armour and using an odd mixture of pulse and conventional firearms. He took aim and fired a short burst from his right carbine. The bright muzzle flash partially obliterated his view, but he had the satisfaction of watching a number of the enemy duck down. But he couldn’t tell if he’d hit them, or they were taking cover. The image of Komes Pasion appeared, and he was partially obscured by a cloud of dust.
“It’s a trap! We have lost contact with the fleet since landing. Get into cover, we need to find…”
A bight flash cut the feed, but gave no indication as to what had happened to the commander of the Night Blades. All along the ridge, the remnants of the unit unleashed an accurate and deadly rain of fire into the enemy positions. Plasma shells tore holes in the thin walls, and pulse rounds picked off one Mulac after another. Another dromon landed, and from front its door spilled multiple squads of spatharii. These heavily armoured warriors switched on their shields as they hit the ground and formed up into a loose line, twenty men wide. Pulse fire glanced off the shielding, and for a moment it looked like they might have a chance. The Mulacs redirected their efforts against the new arrivals, and the gunfire striking the ridge cut back drastically.
“Now!” shouted a Night Blades Dekarchos, as he clambered over the ridge and made it ten metres before being struck by three unguided rockets. Half of his squad fell around him, leaving just four to drag themselves back. Xenophon reached out to his commander.
“Dekarchos, where are the rest of the spatharii?”
He shook his head.
“They have pulled back, and only one from the first wave made it. The rest are waiting to come in, but the defensive rocket fire is holding them off. We need to keep them busy before they can help us.”
Xenophon looked up to the enemy positions and tried to assess its strength. The wall wasn’t continuous, as it was constructed directly into the rock of the mountain. This particular section was the only part with enough flat ground around it to land dromons. The wall was roughly two hundred metres long and flanked by two rocky outcrops. The real problem was the centre of the wall where a small turret protected a rocket crew. Flanked by thick slabs of reinforced masonry, it was almost invulnerable from the ground. Around it were multiple heavy weapon emplacements, and then the hundreds of Mulac defenders.
These bastards knew we were coming. I bet that Median Satrap is behind the whole thing. He must have a plan, some kind of scheme to put us all in this situation.
He shook his head angrily and then looked along the line, checking who was left and trying to see what equipment they had brought. He could see mainly pulse rifles, but there were at least three plasma cannons and a number of shield generators being activated along the ridge.
“Sir, I have an idea about the wall. I think I can put a hole in it, right there!” he said,
pointing to the centre of the fortified section.
The Dekarchos fired a blast with his pulse rifle and ducked down to speak.
“To what end? A hole won’t bring it down.”
“Not just a hole, I can bring down a fifty metre wide section, knock out the rockets and give us time to land the dromons.”
Dekarchos Maxentius thought about it for no more than two or three seconds then nodded in agreement. Xenophon smiled, surprised at being given the chance to get them out of the situation.
“Give me half the squad and two generators, and I’ll keep them busy on that wall.”
The Dekarchos looked at him in amusement but could tell the young man had a plan, and at the rate they were losing men, anything was worth a try. He looked around him, checking on the gear and immediately picked out a dead soldier with a shield pack on the ground.
“Okay, Xenophon, whatever you’re going to do. Do it fast!”
He waved to Glaucon who was forced to crawl along the ground to reach him.
“Yeah?”
“I need you, Tamara, Roxana, Jack and one more to come with me to the wall.”
Dekarchos Maxentius leaned in close.
“Count me in, you can take this one, Komes.”
Xenophon almost smiled at the joke, but to him it felt like the greatest compliment a commander could give to one of his men.
“Okay, grab all the plasma weapons you can find and two shield generators. Meet me there, behind that dip,” he said, pointing off to the left where the ridge dropped a little in height. It was also the closest point between the position held by the Night Blades and the base being held by the enemy.
They split up, with all of them keeping down as low as possible. The gun battle continued along the ridge with streaks of gun and rocket fire moving back from both sides. It was tempting to join in, but Xenophon knew they could do little to alter the outcome of the battle. What they needed was to silence those heavy weapons to give the rest of the spatharii an opportunity to land in the open space. Tamara and Jack appeared, both already filthy and dishevelled from the dirt and muck on the ground. Tamar lifted up a plasma cannon, and its large size dwarfed her small frame. Jack, on the other hand, dragged one of the shield generator units and dumped it next to Xenophon.
Black Legion: Gates of Cilicia Page 22