Table of Contents
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
EPILOGUE
HISTORICAL NOTE
SEA OF FIRE
By Michael G. Thomas
PART of the STAR LEGIONS SERIES
Copyright © 2012-2014 Michael G. Thomas
3rd Edition Published July 2014
Published by Swordworks Books
All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.
CHAPTER ONE
The Sea of Fire, Carduchian-Hayastani border
A tiny area of space flickered, flashed twice, and then expanded to reveal the gleaming hull of the Scythian class battleship Mithra. The vessel traveled slowly from her arrival point and directly toward the large border outpost. She looked like a great beast, bristling with iconography of the Empire and fitted out with weapons that covered from bow to stern. In contrast, the floating structure of the outpost looked defenseless. With few weapons, it consisted of a dozen segments, each spherical and protected by thick plating. In the center sat a large control station that matched the size of a frigate and provided the power grid for the layered shielding.
“Ahead slow,” said the ship’s Sarvan.
Ariaeus, once the second-in-command of Lord Cyrus’ host, and the now disgraced Median noble, paced back and forth on his command deck. In the past he had been calm, confident, and controlled an entire army of warriors alongside those of Cyrus. Now he was a general in name only, with no fleet, transports, or warriors at his call. His crew of automatons ignored him and continued their work, while a picked group of Medes waited nearby. He looked at them and scowled, but not one of them spoke. A single officer, one of the elite Anusiyan Guards nodded at him and then glanced back at the others. Ariaeus turned away.
“I hate this ship, and I hate them,” he swore under his breath.
He walked past the automatons and recalled the times where he had commanded fleets of ships, each one filled with loyal servants of the Empire. Now his failure seemed even more complete than it had back in the Core Worlds, back when he’d been made to suffer for crimes beyond his control.
The warship was a god among the hundred or so smaller vessels that moved around her from the nearby outpost. Everything from ore haulers to regional motor launches passed in wide orbits, each carefully avoiding moving too close, so that they could gaze upon one of the rare flagships of the infamous Imperial fleet. The wreckage of a single Imperial light tanker remained nearby as a reminder of the repercussions of passing too close to the outpost’s guns without permission.
The odd procession drifted silently past the last remnants of the asteroid and debris that littered the miserable Satrapy known simply as the Carduchian Wilderness and then away toward the Sea of Fire. This was the last outpost in the entire sector, and it was incredibly well armed. Sixteen Carduchian fighters moved about in four separate squadrons. They followed predetermined flight paths, and though they came close, they were never too near the battleship to be a threat.
The battleship was one of the vaunted Elamites, the name given to only the largest and most powerful of the Scythian class warships. Named for the Median divinity of justice and oaths, the ships were the finest and most valuable frontline vessels in the Imperial Fleet. The fact that the ship bore the markings of the Great King himself merely amplified the importance of such a vessel in this area. At half a kilometer long, it was substantially bigger than any of the cargo vessels and made the Carduchian warships look insignificant in comparison. A squadron of three locally produced cruisers passed in a show of force, but it was a gesture, nothing more. The fact they kept their gun ports closed clearly demonstrated the degree of fear brought on by the arrival of Mithra.
Ariaeus approached the obsidian command unit. It was the place where a noble such as he should be. Instead, there was the single unnamed Sarvan; another of the gifts granted to him by Artaxerxes before he had left the Core Worlds. Even thinking about the Great King made him remember the pain from the lashes he’d suffered.
Tissaphernes will pay for this, I promise.
He looked to the obsidian structure. It should have been a place where he commanded from, the heart of the ship, and the position of power aboard such a powerful vessel. Instead, there was nothing more than a nameless and faceless Median officer.
He called out, “Sarvan, is he here?”
The Median officer made some adjustments. If it had been the other way around, the answer would have been almost instantaneous. Now the Sarvan spent as much time as he desired before answering the question of his superior. It wasn’t a long delay, but it was enough to remind Ariaeus of the change in his status. And with each second, the rage inside Ariaeus grew greater. Finally, the Sarvan answered in a slow, hushed tone.
“Not yet. The outpost has prepared a warm welcoming part for us, and we are on course to approach the Sea of Fire, my Lord.”
That last word felt like a stab to Ariaeus’ heart. The great barrier that separated the Satrapies of Carduchia and Hayastan was the terrible region of space known as the Sea of Fire; and marked a violent neutral zone between the two parts of the Empire.
“We do have a welcoming party of Carduchian vessels. So far there is no sign of the Hayastani. I suspect they are waiting on their side of the border.”
Ariaeus waited patiently on the command deck and tried to imagine the body of Tissaphernes being dragged before the Great King. He licked his lips in the anticipation of the punishment his rival would receive.
I will succeed where you failed, and then what is yours will be mine.
He turned his thoughts back to the mission and of this terrible place in the Median Empire. Myth told of the Day of Reckoning, a time long ago when two titanic monsters fought for centuries. The destruction wrought by their battle was responsible for this terrible region of space.
“Your charts, are they accurate?”
The Sarvan grunted in answer.
“Yes, my lord. The Great King provided us with the latest charts and navigational routes. This is the fastest route known in the Empire.”
“You’d better be right. A course failure of just a fifty parasangs will see us cross paths with a tear in space-time. Have you seen what happens when a ship moves close to one?”
“No, my Lord.”
Ariaeus shook his head.
“Trust me, it is not a sight you will ever want to see.”
The ship performed a slow rotation, a movement so elegant that it was impossible to determine from the command deck. The Scythian class battleship drifted silently through the last of the debris and then away from the little group of Carduchian ves
sels. As the ship pushed out of the shattered rocks, it entered the out layers of the Sea of Fire. The first indication was a great shudder that shook the Elamite from bow to stern.
“What was that?” Ariaeus demanded.
The Sarvan looked at him through the narrow gap in the obsidian sections.
“We have entered the Sea of Fire.”
Ariaeus paced another five steps and then stopped.
“Enough, I have to see what is happening. I require an external view, now!”
The ship’s automatons continued with their work, with even those nearby doing their best to pretend they had heard nothing. Ariaeus walked toward them and reached for a short, curved dagger on his thigh. He pulled it out and held it close to the first female member of the ship’s crew.
“I said, I want...”
Another blade, this time from the sword of the Anusiyan officer moved to intercept his.
“My Lord, these crew are of the Imperial Navy. They are not to be injured or killed without the express wishes of Imperial command.”
Ariaeus looked to the officer and tightened his brow in irritation.
“My orders are to end this threat to the Empire, once and for all. Now, I must have access to systems, information, and controls, or we will all fail.”
He turned his head a little to the right.
“And if we fail, we can expect every single soul on this ship to pay the price.”
The Anusiyan considered his words for the briefest of moments. He then walked away from Ariaeus and to the Sarvan. They exchanged a few words, and the Sarvan nodded. The Anusiyan turned back and stopped directly in front of Ariaeus.
“I have the authority to redirect external data to one of the gunnery arrays.”
Ariaeus shook his head.
“Then do it. Either I am in command of this expedition, or I am not.”
They both walked to where four automatons were stationed. In front of the crew were banks of displays that showed data specific only to their roles. Two of the automatons lifted themselves up and marched away. Ariaeus and the officer took their places but remained upright. It took a few seconds to clear the ship’s security protocols, and then came the external video feeds. The largest was from the bow and showed the view into the Sea of Fire. Two small screens had wide-angle views to the sides and behind them.
“So, that is the last mighty fortress of the Carduchians? It looks more like a supply depot to me.”
Ariaeus snorted and looked to the forward view, completely ignoring the large number of local vessels that had arrived to watch them travel past. Several of the transports had moved back to allow the Elamite to travel through to the edge of the border zone. Great limbs of fire lashed out as though a god was striking them down from afar. Clouds of dust and gas filled every direction, yet even into this bizarre storm, he could see two small vessels heading in the same direction. Streaks of multicolored lightning lashed near but never came close enough to cause damage. He looked to the Sarvan.
“Do not stray from the course. Do you have the meeting coordinates?”
“Yes, my Lord. We should arrive at the marked location within six minutes.”
The remainder of their entry into the Sea of Fire was a trip that none of the crew would ever be able to forget. They were struck four times by the powerful blasts of energy, and each time the shields were knocked off-line. Communications systems failed, and all weaponry was deactivated to avoid premature detonation. By the time the ship reached the designation meeting point, even Ariaeus was dripping sweat from head to toe.
“My Lord, this is the marked meeting point. There is a single Hayastani ship, a battleship much like this one.”
“Show me.”
The gunnery display altered to a view slightly off the starboard bow. The waiting ship was of a similar size, but this one was looked like an ancient flying monster with short fat wings, talon like extremities, and huge engines slung over and under the wings. The nose drooped down to a curved beak like point, and a pair of massive plasma cannons extended outward.
“It’s a Vulture class battleship,” said the Sarvan.
“Fascinating,” said Ariaeus, “They were the ancient class of ship in the days before the Empire. This one must be hundreds of years old, maybe even older.”
His voice betrayed something close to reverence as he watched the ship that faced them. The small area of space was almost a bubble, devoid of the devastating lashing that was taking place throughout the rest of the sea.
“Sensors?” Ariaeus asked.
“Targeting is off-line, and our systems are having trouble detecting anything. The interference out here is making scanning and communications impossible.”
Ariaeus felt that cold sting of fear at the thought of being out there with no aid or ability to communicate. As he considered their situation, he also realized that it really didn’t matter.
Who would help, anyway?
He shrugged and then laughed to himself. The Sarvan ignored him and continued to watch the other vessel.
“My Lord. I can confirm the silhouette and markings. It is definitely the Zaal, the most advanced ship in the Hayastani fleet. The markings show her as the flagship.”
“Good,” said Ariaeus, “Prepare my shuttle. We will board her immediately.”
The Sarvan looked out through the gaps in the black obsidian shell, but Ariaeus had already gone. In his place waited the Anusiyan officer. They exchanged a quick look, but it was the officer that spoke.
“I will go with him. The Great King would not want anything to happen to him.”
The Sarvan nodded with great solemnity.
“Yes, Lord Ruhollah.”
The Median noble lifted the corner of his mouth just enough to bare his teeth in a smile. With Ariaeus gone, there was nobody close enough to listen to their private conversation.
“My father wants this dealt with, quickly.”
Again the Sarvan bowed just a little.
“As the Great King commands, we obey.”
* * *
Ariaeus walked into the Grand Royal Chamber aboard the Hayastani ship. In the short time it had taken for the transport to the ship, he’d been able to dress in his full regalia. Though lacking an official command position, he was still a member of the Imperial nobility, and therefore wore the purple, as was allowed in the Empire. His tall, narrow figure was shown off by the tightly fitted earthen shades in his clothing. His tunic was made up of a ribbing design that implied armor, but in a style rarely used outside of the Core Worlds. His cloak hung down from a pair of golden pins at his shoulders, and his head was completely bare. He wore tall boots up to his knees and long gloves, all covered in intricate golden embroidery.
As always, Ariaeus traveled with his full complement of guards. They were the Imperial protectors, picked men given to him by the Emperor and answerable only to their leader, the emotionless Anusiyan officer that went by no name other than his rank. The officer looked to Ariaeus and nodded politely. Ariaeus tried to smile, but it was little more than a grimace.
This wretched officer is starting to vex me.
“Come with me.”
Ariaeus increased his pace, but the guards had no problem in keeping up. They moved past the slaves and lower ranks and deeper still into the ship. Waiting along the sides of the chamber were lines of regional soldiers, each adorned in bright green breastplates and bare heads. They were shorter than the Medes, but broader in shape and completely hairless. Their skin was almost pure white, with not a hint of tan or coloration on any of them. Their eyes were a mixture of shades, the majority being bright green or blue, and he was sure they were watching him with disdain as he passed them by.
Hayastani primitives. They should be used for clearing minefields.
Ariaeus pushed on until he reached the far end of the chamber. It was rectangular, and works of art littered the tall red walls. He looked at them, noting that many were Terran, with the odd Median image thrown in. The majority was prov
incial, and far from what Ariaeus would consider as art. Out in front of him purple tapestries hung away from a pair of arched glass windows. They were made up of tiny segments of colored glass or some other transparent material.
This is too much for a provincial Satrapy.
Ariaeus hadn’t even noticed the ceiling, but as his eyes drifted up, he spotted the opulence of some great mythological design. White and blue clouds merged together with crackling electricity. Monstrous forms began to appear and then receded as they coalesced into shapes. Just as he could make out the shape, it then faded away. Ariaeus’ brow tightened as he noticed the imagery was moving much like the scene outside.
“What do you think? We took this from a Carduchian warship over a hundred years ago,” said the figure waiting between the two windows.
Ariaeus looked up at the figure and then continued forward. He reached the first wide step and began to move up. The figures on each side had now changed from the local troops into much more heavily armored royal soldiers. Though of the same build and race, these were armed in similar equipment to Terran spatharii. Each bore a long lance type weapon that rested on their shoulder, and with the rear placed to the floor. In contrast to the other soldiers, these wore helmets that obscured their faces.
“Very interesting. I can see why the enmity between your people still exists,” said Ariaeus.
His voice was dry, almost cool in tone. Waiting out in front was the figure of the Satrap Tirbazus, the leader of the Hayastan Satrapy, and a member of the Median Empire’s elite nobility. Ariaeus stepped right up in front of the figure and then lowered down to one knee.
“Lord Tirbazus, I bring greetings from the Emperor Artaxerxes.”
The Satrap smiled and beckoned for him to rise.
“Not from our good friend Cyrus, then?”
It was a snide jab at his role in assisting Cyrus and immediately put Ariaeus on edge.
“The God King is still grieving at the loss of such a great and noble warrior as his half brother Cyrus.”
Black Legion: 05 - Sea of Fire Page 1