Black Legion: 04 - Last Stand (22 page)

Xenophon stopped for a second and sighed happily.

“That is good news, Dukas.”

The node crackled before continuing.

“For the Legion...but not for you.”

That information felt like a heavy stone in his chest. He almost missed a breath before he could speak, but the Dukas continued.

“Phalinus’ fleet is smashed, and Chirisophus has captured his battleship. Seven Lelegian ships have broken contact and are moving in on you. I cannot send you any more help, my friend. They will be there in minutes, and you can expect Medes reinforcements all over you. I suggest...”

The node crackled and then went dead. Glaucon moved past and noticed his friend had stopped. He went back and placed his hand on his armoured shoulder.

“Xenophon, what is it?”

“We’re running out of time. They are going to counter board this ship.”

Glaucon needed no more information. He simply looked up the ramp and then to his friend.

“Then we’d better take her fast!”

Tamara heard their voices but didn’t wait and charged to the top. The rest were close behind, emerging from the partial safety of the ramp and into the wider upper level of the command deck.

“Stop!” shouted a Terran with a thick Zacynthian accent.

They rushed out into the open space, adrenalin surging through their bodies. It was similar to the command deck, covering an area of nearly thirty metres in length and about half again in width. Computer systems covered one side, along with a black obelisk arrangement with the shape of a Medes officer in heavy armour behind its protection. A line of ten Terran spatharii in similar armour and equipment to the attacking Terrans dropped to their knees, and another ten moved up behind them in a standing position, their Medes rifles all trained on the little group.

“Stop this madness!” roared the voice they had heard just moments earlier.

The form from behind the black obelisk emerged and stepped behind his line of Terran mercenaries. Glaucon now made it to the top of the ramp to join his comrades and the four other Terrans that had made it this far. They were now outnumbered by at least two to one. Xenophon didn’t hesitate and lifted Clearchus’ weapon to face the enemy commander. He loosed three rounds at his head in quick succession, and the first two struck him directly in the centre of the face. Blue flashes marked the impacts, and the rounds bounced off to strike the ceiling. He shook his body like a dog shaking water from his body.

“Terrans, lay down your arms. We can end this violence today!”

Glaucon then opened fire with his pulse cannon, but after the second burst, he stopped, especially when half of the Terran guards seemed to point their pulse rifles directly at his head. He half expected them to open fire and quickly removed his finger from the trigger, but remained with the muzzle pointing at their commander.

“I have been sent by my uncle, Tissaphernes, to offer you the chance to join our Terran ranks. Your commanders have hidden this offer from you.”

He extended his hand out and upwards, as if trying to encompass the open space. From the darkness of the rear at least two-dozen more warriors appeared; this time they were Median Anusiyan bodyguards. There were now over forty guards around their commander while the remnants of Xenophon’s force consisted of just eight of them. He threw a quick glance to his left as the shape of Artemas slipped past him and moved between the two groups of warriors. She began to speak, but the Median leader raised his hand and made her stop.

“In their tongue, so they might understand us.”

His voice was easy to understand, and his command of the Terran language was at least as sophisticated as that of Artemas. Xenophon suspected this nephew of Tissaphernes probably spent as much time on the border fighting Terrans as his uncle did. Artemas bowed ever so slightly in deference.

“Noble Lord Qahreman.”

Glaucon shifted uncomfortably, and Tamara fingered her kopis blade, making sure it was positioned and balanced exactly as she intended, ready for the inevitable fight that was to come.

“We are here to demand your surrender,” continued Artemas.

Qahreman took a step forward; his long pale face twisted just a fraction. Two of his nearest guards stepped to block his progress, and he pushed one out of the way before stopping. He muttered something in his own tongue before Artemas shrugged and turned her back on him to face her comrades.

“Qahreman is lying. He will not let us leave, not now.”

She turned to face the fuming Median leader.

“He is time wasting.”

One of the Terran spatharii began to laugh. It started slowly but then reverberated though the hall like an operatic singer. The Terran was positioned directly in the middle of their second rank, flanked by his comrades on both sides, and just as well armoured. As he spoke, the Median leader appeared to calm.

“I am Arkeisios, second-in-command to Dukas Phalinus. This is nothing more than a scouting party. Our primary fleet will be here soon. Halt your attack, or face the consequences upon the arrival of Tissaphernes.”

Glaucon spat on the floor at the mention of the hated Satrap. The Median commander moved a little closer, but the shimmering field of the shield generator was still slightly visible as he moved. The communication node crackled again, and Xenophon found he was able to reach the Dukas, though he had no idea for how long.

“Dukas. I need you to fire everything you have, right now at this ship.”

“Xenophon...Are you mad? If we...”

Again the node crackled and was quickly jammed by one or more of the surviving Median ships. He knew it was possible to bypass the jamming relatively quickly, but the line of guns opposite him proved more of an urgent concern right now.

We have to be ready.

Xenophon could only hope that his message had made it through. He lowered his weapons and moved alongside Artemas. She looked at him, and although she seemed calm and confident, he could make out the worry in her face. He whispered as he moved near to her.

“Get ready.”

A flicker in his eye sent a shiver through her body. The enemy in front may not have seen it, but Tamara instantly knew that look and again checked her grip on her second kopis blade.

“What the hell is...” started one of the Terrans that had come with them. Roxana swung her left arm and struck the side of his helm. The impact was light but instantly quietened him. He considered moving towards her, but his two comrades held him back. One of them leaned in and whispered something in his ear. Xenophon moved another step closer and pointed to his small group of warriors.

“We were paid by one of your own to come here. Now all we ask is for you to let us return home, peacefully.”

Qahreman looked at him carefully, trying to assess the Terran’s character.

“You entered our Empire under arms. What of Cilicia, Khorram, and Larissa? These are sovereign territories of the Median Empire, yet you sack, burn, and loot them.”

Median Battleship ‘Vairya’, Core Worlds

Tissaphernes swung his blade for the fifth time and embedded the weapon deep into the Navsarvan’s throat. The ship’s engineer slipped to the floor of the command deck, blood pouring from the terrible wounds. Even as he lay there gurgling, the blood continued to pump from the severed arteries. The Satrap roared in frustration at being delayed so long.

“Eight minutes, are you insane? Late is still late! We should be there already!”

He threw the weapon but managed to strike the fallen automaton with the hilt. It clattered off into the distance; his replacement waiting alongside the body with stoic determination. Tissaphernes moved close to him so that the officer could see the lines of his face. On the screen behind him he saw the massive formation of his ships that had decided to come to his aid, unasked for. They were following in a close formation, each waiting for the command to drop down to normal speed.

Those fools, I told them to stay at the assembly point.

It didn’t really matter now though. The ships were with him, and his communications with the small number of cruisers that had stayed behind were clear. The Terrans were gone; all for the loss of one, perhaps two of his own light cruisers. It was barely a loss.

“My Lord, we are receiving an urgent message from cruiser Zezal,” said the communications officer.

Zezal?

It took a moment for him to realise it was one of the unimportant light cruisers damaged in the fight with the Terran vessel. The light cruisers were ships that barely registered with him. They were small, weak, and ineffectual. They had their uses, of course, but not the ones that had engaged the Terran cruiser. The mere fact they had only kept the Terran busy for sometime was one of the reasons he’d refused to offer them much in the way of help. Those two ships were now a long way behind them, yet still they would not stop bleating for help. One of them was still able to engage its light-speed engines, but Tissaphernes had refused it permission to leave until it had recovered all Median casualties from the other ship. He looked at the automaton and shook his head angrily.

“Let me guess. They are still asking for help?”

The automaton nodded, but not a sound left its mouth. Tissaphernes looked at him with barely concealed contempt.

At least this one knows when to keep his eyes open and his mouth shut.

He recalled the massive blast that could have potentially destroyed his warship. It angered him that his own cruisers had been unable to stop that from happening. It was only the mistakes of the Terrans themselves by attempting the futile attempt to escape the fight. It irked him that he had travelled so far to find out what they knew, only to be foiled by their own engineering inadequacies.

Those Terrans have taken their secrets with them to the grave. I will have to be careful at Larissa.

“Send them one more message and be done with them. If they attempt to contact me again, block the channel. I do not want to hear from them until they have completed their duties. I want the wreck of the Terran ship thoroughly analysed.”

That made him smile. Performing a full forensic analysis of the ships would take days, perhaps even weeks. At least it would keep them away from him for now.

It might even keep them alive.

The capture of the scout would have allowed his interrogators to obtain critical battlefield information. More importantly though, it would have revealed the unknowns to him, and it was those that worried him the most. Tissaphernes was anything but a fool. With the Terrans gone, he had no way of knowing what their strategy for Larissa was. On so many occasions there had been catastrophic defeats for massive Median fleets that had simply marched into battle on the assumption that numbers would prevail.

Tissaphernes hadn’t swept the bulk of the Terrans from the Ionian Territories without learning the importance of military intelligence. He was convinced the vast array of warships he’d arranged to send into the battle would fail in winning. That might shock some, but victory had never been his intention, not yet in any case.

Where is that map?

He looked to his right and stopped upon spotting the model that had been created from the scattered reports coming in from the various forces at Larissa. Phalinus’ ships had sent in the most detailed reports yet, and while they begged for help, they implied only a small fraction of the Black Legion had engaged them, and this made Tissaphernes suspicious. He respected the combat power of the Terrans. That was one of the reasons he had spent so much on recruiting numbers of them in his own Satrapy, without informing the Emperor, of course. He had no doubts their loyalties lay purely in money, but unlike many of the other races he had come across, they were completely reliable, providing the money supply never ran out.

He recalled the occasions in the past where the Median Emperors had bought mercenary armies to fight on the frontiers, only to find their exorbitant pay requests had bankrupted the treasury. Losing their support was the least of the Empire’s troubles though.

Yes, there’s little more dangerous than an unpaid mercenary.

It was a simple maxim but one his ancestors had learnt the hard way. A force of hardened warriors at your doorstep waiting to get paid was a problem. After all, who would fight the mercenaries? More mercenaries? This was all irrelevant to him, as his own Satrapies were some of the wealthiest domains in the Empire. He had been forced to make use of Phalinus and his Zacynthians, but they were not without their uses. He’d sent as many as he could to his ships to beef up their internal security forces, but Phalinus himself was a special case. Prized by the Emperor, he had needed to give the Terran the impression of real combat command. That drew a smile from him.

Yes, the arrogance and pride of the Terrans can always be relied upon.

A battle at Larissa was the perfect opportunity to rid himself of his enemies at home and further afield. To give the impression the battle was real he’d been forced to sacrifice his own nephew and a sizable contingent of Carian ships.

“My Lord, they say the Terrans have...”

Tissaphernes lifted his hand to silence the automaton. He had been so busy contemplating his own short and long-term plans that the pathetic scouts had slipped his mind. The mere mention of them increased his blood pressure.

“Silence!”

When I arrive at Larissa, I will finish them off, and all of this will have been worthwhile. Who knows, that fool Qahreman might even survive this.

This seemed to calm him, and he tried to imagine how the fight might be going.

Ah well, if not...I can always get another nephew!

He looked back to his officers. They had pleaded with him before engaging the jump engines, but he had no time for their whining. The light cruisers were heavily damaged by the destruction of the Terran vessel, and he’d been sent requests for rescue parties, engineers, and even an assault party to help defend against a fully-fledged assault. He considered both of the Khanda class light cruisers to be lost; it was only a matter of minutes or hours before it would be decided.

I left them an escort. They should be thankful for that.

The thought of the Zacynthian warship put a smile on his face. It was one of the smallest ships in his fleet and nothing more than a token gesture for the survivors on the Khanda cruisers.

That will take care of yet another one of my Zacynthian friends.

He had tried to protest, but he had been given no leeway on this one thing. On the personal orders of the God King, he had been forced to make use of the Terran mercenaries. He had considered wasting them on scouting or patrols, but Dukas Phalinus had asked the Emperor for the opportunity for his forces to show their true strength. Tissaphernes spotted a chance and had offered him to lead the main contingent into battle alongside his own Leleges forces. By stripping out a number of the larger ships, he had reduced the effective power and chances for success for Phalinus. All under the guise of keeping a flexible reserve a short distance from Larissa. This left the primary fleet under strength for the job, but he knew the pig-headed arrogance of the Terrans would demand they fought, and hopefully died.

Either way, I win.

“I do not care. Tell them to deal with it themselves. I have a battle to win. Send a message to Darbabad Forouzandeh. I want her division of ships to meet with the rest of our forces at Larissa.”

The automaton almost spoke but quickly returned to his duties.

He then looked back at the new chief engineer for Vairya.

“Now, how soon until we arrive at the assembly point?”

The automaton bowed.

“Six minutes, My Lord.”

“Then ensure every crew member is at their station and ready.”

“My Lord.”

The Darbabad nodded smartly and then left to give his own orders. Tissaphernes watched him leave. As his eyes moved from right to left, he surveyed the damage on board his own ship, and it filled him with a bitter anger inside. At least a hundred automatons must have been killed or injured, due to the damage from the destroyed Terran cruiser and the large debris field it had created. That concerned him far less than the fact a mere light cruiser had been able to hurt his precious command ship. He looked down at the myriad of automatons and lifted his lip slightly.

“We will meet with the rest of the fleet in less than six minutes. We will stay no longer than is necessary to change course, re-spool our engines, and align the fleet. You will all fight at Larissa, and we will personally deal the final blow to their Titans.”

He expected something, a cheer, or a glimmer of pride. Instead, he saw nothing but emptiness in the eyes of his automatons. They carried out their tasks with no great pride or pleasure; it was a duty to them, nothing more.

Pathetic. When I claim all of Ionia, I will make changes,
he thought.

The border worlds of Ionia were regions of space long contended with the Terrans. Over hundreds of years both sides had settled and counter settled worlds and moons, only to be evicted by the next warlord. Tissaphernes had been commanded to calm the region by the personal decree of the Emperor.

Yes, I will take best of both and create something never seen before in the Empire.

* * *

Median Battleship ‘Sraosha’, Larissa System, Core Worlds

Xenophon waited patiently and began to wonder if Xenias had decided against his request. Communications traffic outside of the ship was becoming more and more erratic. That moment of doubt spread throughout his entire body, and he wondered what would happen to them now. If Xenias failed to act, then they would be forced to deal with this situation on their own, and he had strong doubts they could come out on top. They were outnumbered and facing a large unit of skilled, heavily armed, and armoured Terran mercenaries. The enemy commander was shielded both by them and an energy unit powered directly from the ship.

You fool, you should have stayed with Xenias.

He enjoyed the soldier’s life, much more actually than he would ever have expected. Nonetheless, his real skill came in strategy and tactics, not in the blunt end of combat. It reminded him of the last words of Clearchus on Cunaxa.

“Xenophon?” asked Artemas.

He turned his eyes to look at her, and for what must have been the first time could see fear there. They had been in difficult situations before, but this was different. They were completely exposed, high off the ground level, and facing a deadly enemy. But his thoughts vanished in a flash when he spotted a white light above him. He had time but not much, and he used it to throw himself down to the ground. Artemas began to do the same as the flash rushed through the ship. The shockwave was so great it knocked everyone standing to the ground.

Only Xenophon and Artemas had managed to grab onto the consoles nearby. Glaucon must have sensed it earlier because he’d held onto a pipe on the right while Roxana and Tamara had been knocked further to the side of the raised open space.

“Now!” called out Glaucon.

He was the first to break cover and rushed at the Zacynthians. Without his pulse cannon, he was forced to make do with nothing more than his pistol. He didn’t even bother withdrawing his kopis blade and dashed into the middle of the group, shooting dead the first three Terran mercenaries. He looked back to Xenophon and waved with his pistol.