Black Legion: 03 - Warlords of Cunaxa

by Michael G. Thomas

  Meno looked first to Ariaeus and then back to Cyrus.

  “What?”

  He turned away and moved to the tactical mapping units balanced precariously on the metal crates and containers. The aerial view showed the Citadel, as well as the ruined city around it. To the right were a dozen landing zones; each marked in green. He then moved his hand to the top of the map.

  “Here. It isn’t just Clearchus and the Legion that have arrived. I’ve just received word from our scouts to the North that a secondary force has been detected three kilometres out from the city limits. They are advancing at speed and making for this point.”

  Ariaeus spoke quickly, but Cyrus lifted his hand and simply said. “Terran.”

  The Median noble looked unimpressed at being forced to resume speaking in the Dukas’ native tongue, but he had no choice.

  “Whose secondary force? Are they with us or against us?”

  Cyrus shrugged and stabbed his hand directly between the Citadel and the landing zones.

  “The scouts’ last message was that the vehicles were carrying the battle standards of Tissaphernes. Their estimates were eight thousand or more infantry and upwards of a hundred armoured vehicles. There is more though. Before they were attacked, the scouts said they’d also identified massive machines from the robotic domains. I suggest that he means to cut us off from our reserves. If he succeeds, then we’ll be the ones trapped here, and I promise you, my brother will want his revenge!”

  Cyrus rubbed his chin as he considered his options.

  “Machines from the robotic domains, is he insane?” muttered Ariaeus.

  Meno watched the display but only for a moment. He contacted his own forces. He did not so much look concerned, more suspicious of having his forces facing unexpected enemies. As he spoke, a group of automatons rushed past them, running as fast as their bruised and bloodied legs would carry them. A second group also ran past but slowed and finally stopped upon seeing their leader out on the frontline. They seemed surprised and also a little relived to see Cyrus out reviewing the enemy battle line rather than running back as quickly as possible.

  Cyrus noticed them stop but paid them no attention. A small group of automatons was useful but nothing compared to the battle he needed to manage. He looked to Meno, but he was still busy coordinating his newly arrived ground forces. He spotted Cyrus and stopped speaking for a moment. Cyrus turned his head and look up to the wall.

  “Where is the nearest breach?”

  Meno looked to the wall and quickly identified the position of his own forces and heavy equipment. The tactical display showed where impacts had occurred, as well as estimates to the damage so far inflicted on the old and surprisingly tough set of fortifications. One area in particular caught his eye. He raised his hand and pointed to a section two hundred metres further along the wall.

  “That is the weakest. A few more shots, and we’ll have a gap big enough to get an APC through. Why?”

  “Good. Bring it down and bring your forces forward. On my command, we are taking that wall and pushing through to Xenias. If we delay any longer, the reinforcements of Tissaphernes could be our undoing. Understood?”

  Meno considered his options for a moment. He would much rather wait for Clearchus. The Laconian commander and his vast numbers of heavy infantry and specialised equipment were their greatest chance of victory, but there were benefits to winning this battle without his help. If he was smart and managed to play the significant part in the battle, he might be rewarded to a degree even greater than that of his rivals, the Laconians. The possibility of coming out on top of his hated rival was the perfect motivation.

  “My Lord,” he said grandly and with a hint of a bow, “in five minutes, I will have a thousand spatharii and over a thousand stratiotes ready for the attack. That is more than enough when combined with your own warriors to finish this battle. We will swarm through the breach like water through a broken dam.”

  Cyrus allowed himself a slight smile at his change of heart. He was all too familiar with the rivalries and disagreements between the different Terran factions. He’d explained this to many of his compatriots in the past, and in his opinion, it was the source of both their strength and their weakness. The idea, that one day the Terrans might work together sent shivers through his body, even to this day. He looked back at his frontline and the hundreds, no, thousands of warriors, each waiting for his fateful order to commence another advance to the walls.

  Perhaps we might turn this around, after all.

  “Start the bombardment. I want that wall brought down!”

  Meno nodded and connected directly with the commander of the assault guns. He’d brought four with him, and they were already moving into position closer to the wall. Though classed as assault guns, this was not entirely accurate. They were actually fitted with quadruple howitzer barrels and designed to fire rocket propelled siege bombs. It was a peculiar technology, almost primitive, but perfect for destroying buildings, structures and thick masonry. But even better, he’d just received information that his air support had arrived. A fusillade of small arms fire pattered about the vehicles as they pushed inch-by-inch over the rubble and closer to the walls. The defenders must have realised the inherent danger presented by this specialist equipment, and as each second passed by, so did the increase in gunfire.

  Back inside the ruins of the city street, the small group of Terrans and the soldiers of Xenias watched the columns of smoke rising from the Citadel. Although only recently arrived, no one seemed particularly keen to rush out from their rather basic cover and directly into the line of fire of the walls.

  “This is insanity,” said one of the stratiotes. Xenophon looked at the young man but didn’t recognise him from his previous time in the unit. His tunic and armour were surprisingly clean, and his weapon looked like it was fresh out of its case.

  “You’re not wrong, kid,” laughed Glaucon.

  Xenophon’s friend lay down in the rubble and rested his pulse cannon on a mount of shattered bricks. The weapon was a powerful piece of equipment and generally only used in fixed positions. Glaucon seemed to be almost one with it and had made use of the oversized weapon in multiple engagements. He took careful aim to the top of the wall and fired a two second long burst. The noise at this distance was painful to hear, and the muzzle flash was bright and vivid. Two soldiers were cut apart from the wall and part of the masonry clipped off and dropped down to the ground outside the wall.

  “Nice shooting!” called out one of the stratiotes.

  At seeing the skill of Glaucon, the rest of the Night Blades took careful aim and put down a slow but accurate rain of fire that either suppressed the defender along a two hundred-metre stretch of the wall, or picked them off. It wasn’t the kind of thing likely to end a battle, but it did keep the men’s morale up and removed some of the defensive fire being put on the siege machines. Xenophon was tempted to aim with his carbines, but it seemed pointless. With their reduced range and accuracy, he would be wasting ammunition. He looked around. Missile after missile was fired directly upwards from the wall mounted turrets. They accelerated to supersonic speeds, and he almost cringed, waiting for their impact against one of the many Terran craft buzzing about over the battle. Much to his surprise, a barrage of anti-defence missiles slammed into the turrets. Xenophon spotted movement and pointed to the right.

  “Look!”

  Two more dromons, this time with the Lambda symbol of the Laconians, swooped down low over the battlefield. They moved with incredible precision and managed to avoid multiple lines of tracer fire. They unleashed their own cargos of shrike anti-turret missiles. Both ran parallel with the massive walls and sprayed the tops with continuous gunfire. Along the flanks of both craft were small turrets fitted with quadruple pulse rifles mountings. They performed terrible work on the defenders while dark shapes dropped from each side.

  “Stratiotes!” whispered Roxana in amazement.

  In seconds, they’d done what Meno
and Cyrus had failed to do so far. They deposited almost fifty lightly armoured warriors onto the highest levels of the wall. Both then banked left and accelerated to supersonic speeds to escape the gunfire reaching out for them.

  “How the hell did they survive that?” Glaucon asked in amazement. Xenophon pointed out to the right in answer to his question. A formation of a dozen gunships and even more armed drones were running a Wild Weasel mission over the site. The drones had already attracted the attention of the automated defences, and the fire from the gunships shredded any defensive system that attempted to target them.

  “Clearchus is what has happened. What you’re seeing is how a battle should be conducted. I think we might turn this around, after all!” Xenophon said.

  As if to answer his comments, the siege guns of Meno opened fire. Each shot released four low velocity rocket projectiles that followed each other a fraction of a second later. As each rocket smashed into the wall, another followed close behind and continued breaking a way through the walls. The actual shells themselves embedded deeply into the walls, then sent shaped charged into the metal and stonework. The ground shook with each blast, and those unfortunate to be too close could feel their teeth shake from the impact.

  “Turn on your communication nodes to Legion traffic!” Roxana called out from the cover.

  Xenophon checked the setting on the heads up display in his armour. It was on, but set to the open command channel being used by Cyrus and the other Medes forces. It hadn’t occurred to him to revert to the setting used when with his fellow Terrans. As soon as he selected the channel, he detected multiple streams coming in at different command levels. He bypassed the low-level material and went directly to the commander.

  “...destruction. Secure the walls and wait for Laconian ground forces. I repeat, do not move ahead further than the walls.”

  That’s Clearchus. He’s finally here!

  Xenophon spun around and saw the Night Blades were checking their weapons and preparing to move out. There was a marked difference between this unit and those of the Medes that were almost certainly terrified at the prospect of being sent back into the fray. He called out to the senior Dekarchos who was checking the armour of those nearest him.

  “What’s going on?”

  The man looked at him, instantly seeing the similar rank on Xenophon’s uniform.

  “We’ve just been given our orders. We’ve been selected to take that tower!” he said and pointed to the wall. Xenophon placed his hand up to block the bright sunlight and found the point he was referring to. It was halfway between their current position and where the siege guns were currently working. Part of the outer wall had fallen away to create a steep, potentially impossible surface to climb. It was the highest part of the wall and part of one of the tower’s strongpoints. Xenophon laughed and turned back.

  “Are you serious?”

  The stratiotes were already ready for the attack. They carried a pulse rifle or carbine as well as a mixture of close quarter weapons and even a few pulse-cannons. One even seemed to be carrying similar weapons to Xenophon, much to his surprise.

  “Very,” replied a familiar voice.

  Komes Pasion, leader of the Night Blades, appeared from out of the cover. Like most of the senior Terran officers, he wore elaborate Terran armour and a helmet of ancient design. Xenophon stepped out and approached the man who extended his hand in friendship. They grasped each other’s forearms, a symbol of respect and unity. Roxana and Glaucon lifted up slightly to see what was happening, much to Pasion’s amusement.

  “The tower seemed to be the most heavily armed part of this section of wall. In the last assault by the automatons, the majority were killed by enfilade gunfire from the flank gun mounts on the tower itself. It is very heavily armoured and also equipped with localised shielding. Our rockets and mortars are doing nothing against it. It’s protected front and back by crewed gun emplacements. It has to be eliminated.”

  Xenophon raised an eyebrow at his comments and looked back to the tower. It was certainly imposing and covered in bumps. A mixture of pulse fire and rockets reached out almost continually, making the surrounding ground a death trap to anybody wanting to scale the walls or move into the breaches. Komes Pasion checked his stratiotes were ready before speaking again.

  “I see you’ve been keeping the old crew busy, then? So tell me, Dekarchos. What is a Terran officer doing so close to the Medes’ frontline? Are you looking to die today?”

  Glaucon stepped out and Lady Artemas followed.

  “Lady Artemas? Why are you here?” Pasion asked with evident concern.

  Xenophon beckoned for her to approach.

  “We’ve been given the task of keeping her safe.”

  “I see. What about that young, wild thing that was always hanging about with you?”

  A hand appeared from inside the rubble, quickly followed by a grimacing Tamara.

  “I’m still here. Some asshole shot me in the leg.”

  Pasion laughed but then looked back to his unit. They were all dressed and armoured the same and looked very different to the bizarre mixture of gear being used by Xenophon and his friends.

  “I’ve got the soldiers and the equipment, but I’ve got no local knowledge of this place. I’ve called in drone support, but four have been shot down already. Who knows when I’ll have useful recon before we attack? Just look at that thing. From what I’ve seen, this is going to be one hell of a tough nut to crack, and that assumes we can even get near the thing.”

  Artemas nodded gently and then looked to the wall.

  “It doesn’t need to be that way. I’ve been here many times before, inside and outside the Citadel. I’ve been coming here since I was a child. I can help you.”

  Pasion looked to Xenophon, tempted by her offer but also wary of taking advice from a Medes. She could be just as likely trying to get him killed, as to helping him. Xenophon, on the other hand, he trusted implicitly. He’d witnessed the man in combat, and he knew too well how experienced the man was. He looked as though he was going to turn them down, but the sound of heavy gunfire from the tower in question caught his attention. From here on the ground, and hiding in rubble, the tower looked more like a fortress than a mere strongpoint on the outer wall. He sighed as he weighed up his options. Artemas spotted his trepidation and waved towards the front of the tower.

  “I’ve been inside it before. The outer part of the wall is all shielding and armour. You will not get through it.”

  The Komes shook his head, either not believing her or simply not wanting to accept the impossible task he’d been given. Artemas continued.

  “This is its weakness, though. The tower has no outwards facing weapons. Their firing arcs are for covering the walls on either side. There is just one shielded turret at the top with a single weapon mount.”

  “How would you know that?” asked Pasion, scarcely believing it could be true.

  “I used to hide up there!” she replied playfully.

  The Komes looked back to the tower and watched it carefully. He checked the gunfire, but he could find no telltale muzzle flashes from the front, apart from the very highest position.

  She’s right, he thought.

  “Very well. I could do with your help on this one, but bringing the Lady could be risky. Assaulting a tower filled with hostiles, and armed with who knows what, might not be good for our bonus situation.”

  Xenophon, Glaucon and Artemas looked confused. The Komes grinned.

  “If she is hurt or injured, who do you think will pay the price?”

  “Hey!” answered Glaucon. “If we don’t take this place, then we don’t get paid. She knows the area, and she can take care of herself, trust me!”

  Artemas looked at him and tried to work out whether to be pleased or annoyed at his suggestion.

  “Trust me, I don’t want to die any more than you do. I’m the best chance you have of getting inside, and the best chance of keeping you alive. Once we’re inside the
walls, we’ll be protected from gunfire on either side.”

  Pasion looked unconvinced.

  “My tactical scans show the walls are solid.”

  “That’s true. The outer skin is solid, but when you get through the two outer layers, you will reach the habitation segments. I used to play in them...a long time ago.”

  Komes Pasion looked at her and tried to imagine her as a child. She looked as if she was only in her late twenties, perhaps early thirties, yet she spoke as though these events had happened generations ago. She looked up to the tower.

  “Forget about trying to climb over it. The top is triple layered and shielded to protect the walls from aerial bombardment. Why do you think they’re still standing? To get inside, you need to move around the structure and drop back down from the side. There entrances on the battlements are reinforced but unshielded. We take the outer face with your grapples and then swing to the flanks to drop down to the walls.”

  Komes Pasion looked to Xenophon for support, but all he did was nod. He paused for a little while longer, but it was clear this was the single best chance they had.

  “Okay, we’ll give it a shot.”

  He turned back to his men and pointed to the tower.

  “Automatons assigned by Cyrus to our unit will provide covering fire for this op. They will keep the shooters on the walls busy. The top turret will be a problem only on the approach. They will not be able to use plunging fire if we stay close to the wall.”

  A series of groans and complaints echoed along the line of soldiers.

  “Listen! Would you rather they joined us on the assault or provided fire support?”

  Muttering and laughter came from the rear, and the Komes arched into the middle of the group to find out what was happening.

  “Come on then, share the joke.”

  A stratiotes with a filthy Black Legion uniform lifted his hand. The left sleeve was torn, and a bandage was tied loosely across a minor wound. Of all the warriors assembled, his beard and face looked the oldest. Xenophon looked at him for a few seconds, realising he’d seen the man before, back on Attica.