Black Legion: 05 - Sea of Fire (8 page)

“I am Strategos Chirisophus, commander of the Black Legion, and I claim this outpost.”

There was no talking, no negotiation, and no attempt to even escape. Instead, the first thing that happened was a long rumble as the defensive turrets on the outpost activated. Xenophon ran to the doorway and looked up just as a dromon screamed past wreathed in flame.

“Stop this, now!” he screamed.

Chirisophus merely shook his head and tapped a button on his arm. An oval shield flickered and stabilized in front of him.

“Spatharii, to me!”

The Laconian heavy infantry moved into position around their commander and quickly created a loose block of fighters, each protected by the powerful energy fields. Chirisophus then gave the order, the one Xenophon had wanted to avoid from the start.

“This is the Strategos, begin the assault!”

Xenophon called out, “Chirisophus, stop this now. You are signing our death warrants.”

Chirisophus’ eyes narrowed as he looked back at his second-in-command.

“No, they fired the first shot, and I’m tired of banter, discussion, and trade. We are Terran, and these people are a pitiful excuse for barbarians. We will take what we want and do as we please.”

Glaucon and the others had moved off to the left to take shelter behind a stack of supply crates. Artemas waited there, and Roxana held her back, stopping her from intervening.

A bright flash marked one of the powerful Carduchian guns, and Xenophon rolled to the side and away from the Laconians who continued to control the center of the large room. The projectile struck Chirisophus’ shield and flashed bright red. He staggered back a single step from the impact. Xenophon could see the change on his face now that his blood lust was up.

“Kill them all!”

As one, the Laconians pointed their right arms toward the Carduchians and blasted them with their arm-mounted carbines. The volume of fire was devastating, and in seconds more than a dozen of their people lay dead or dying.

“Advance, and secure this facility.”

The Terrans rushed through the lower levels of the outpost like avenging furies. If a Carduchian approached with a weapon, he would be killed in a massed volley of gunfire, little different to a firing squad. Even those that lay prostrate were unable to avoid the deadly gunfire.

“Xenophon, look, it’s Xenias,” said Roxana.

He spotted the armored form of the Dukas rushing in through the breached doorway. He had brought only a handful of Terrans, and they all stayed close to him.

“The fool, he’s started a war with the Carduchians,” muttered the seasoned commander.

“What now?” Tamara asked.

Xenophon looked to Xenias and then to Artemas who appeared to be shaking.

“Artemas?”

“They will send out the call to their kin. Every single outpost, ship, and rock in this wilderness will know what happened here.”

Xenias shook his head.

“No, they won’t. I have the entire area on lockdown. All signals are blocked.”

Roxana approached and lifted her arm to show them a communications scanner. It showed an object a short distance away that sent a signal every few seconds.

“It’s a distress beacon, so what?” said Glaucon.

Xenophon counted the strobes to gage the timing.

“That’s Imperial. They must have an agent here.”

CHAPTER FOUR

Outpost Iraj, Carduchian Wilderness

The fight for the outpost was one of the most repugnant scenes Xenophon had seen so far. He lifted his weapons, but only when he had no choice. As the Laconians continued their butchery, he kept well away.

This will come back to haunt us,
he thought grimly.

Artemas reached out to touch his arm. She looked at him and could immediately tell how angry he was. With their blood up, there was little chance of holding the Terrans back. Now that Chirisophus had joined the battle, there was nothing he could do. The Strategos had spoken, and it would take nothing short of total victory to end the fighting.

Laconian soldiers streamed past and into the dome to continue the gun battle. Another squad of Arcadians ran past with their weapons raised, and he shouted after them.

Xenophon called out to them, “Stop this insanity!”

The closest, an older looking Dekarchos, simply snorted and moved on. Glaucon stepped two paces to intercept, but Xenophon was already there. He blocked their path and swung his right fist into the man’s face. If it hadn’t been for the armored helm, the man would have been unconscious. Instead, he spun about and fell to the ground. His comrades lowered their Doru rifles at him.

“You heard me,” snapped Xenophon, “As your elected Topoteretes you will follow my orders.”

The second warrior, a younger pentarchos lowered his head.

“Yes, Topoteretes. What is your will?”

Xenophon let out a long, pained breath and looked to his friends.

“We have to find a way to end this. We cannot allow a massacre at every area we visit.”

Xenophon had fought in battles at fortresses and aboard ships, but never in his life had he been on the side that had engaged in such a bloodbath. The Carduchians were tough, and he had little doubt they were powerful fighters, but in this fight they had little to no chance. He stepped past the bodies of three warriors and on to a long tunnel that ran deep inside the facility. A narrow, light rail system ran in parallel with dozens of partially laden carts upon the tracks.

“Where now, then?” Glaucon asked, “Chirisophus is storming the place.”

Artemas looked to the writing on the walls and the partially damaged electronic information system hanging from a pair of pylons from the ceiling. Most of the unit was shattered, but a segment of imagery still remained that showed key areas of the base.

“There is a security station at the center of the outpost, right here, where the three habitation domes are joined. It controls access to large areas of the facility. This tunnel bypasses most of the dome and circles around to the center.”

Artemas pointed to the damaged model of the site.

“This is a shortcut.”

The information was clearly for visitors to the outpost, presumably traders and travelers who were looking for a place to rest, purchase goods, or to resupply.

“That looks like the place,” said Roxana.

She looked down at the device on her arm and double-checked the data.

“Yes, its three, maybe four levels above our current position and right at the security station.”

Glaucon started to leave, but Xenophon held him back.

“Wait, have you seen what else is there?”

Each of them looked at the damaged schematic hanging from the ceiling. The symbols meant little to any of them, but to Artemas they were the common tongue, and it seemed to unnerve her.

“There is an Imperial guard unit stationed here.”

She pointed to one icon in particular, a short black symbol with the shape of two horns bending in to touch each other.

“Taochi. They have a squad stationed here.”

Glaucon gave her a stern look.

“You said there were no Imperials in Carduchia.”

Artemas shrugged.

“Times are dangerous. Maybe there’s been a deal with them, and part of it requires a small garrison.”

Xenophon began walking down the tunnel. The others ran to catch up. The ten-man Arcadian unit ran behind them in a loose group. Even their wounded leader came with them, although he said nothing to Xenophon or the others. Glaucon and Artemas reached his side first. Far off into the distance were dozens of civilians trying desperately to avoid the scenes of battle. Every step took them further from the violence occurring throughout the single habitation dome.

“I don’t understand,” said Glaucon.

“Me either,” added Tamara, “Why are we leaving the battle to go this way? Chirisophus will clear the dome in ten, maybe fifteen minutes. Then he’ll reach the center section and spread out through the rest of the outpost.”

Xenophon shook his head and pointed ahead.

“No. We will secure the security station and block access to Chirisophus. We will force the Carduchians to surrender. Once the outpost gives up, the battle will over.”

Even Lady Artemas raised eyebrows at that suggestion.

“The Carduchians will not simply give up.”

“Yeah,” Glaucon agreed, “and Chirisophus will kill you if you stand in his way.”

Roxana checked the ammunition feed on her rifle before joining in.

“Xenophon is right. We have to force them to surrender. If we don’t, every civilian here will be a target. They might not value their own lives, but what of the others here?”

The tunnel curled upward and into what looked almost like a public transport station. They went out into the open where great semi-circular airlock doors controlled the access to all three domes. One was still open that led back into the damaged area where the battle was continuing. Carduchian civilians ran through and into the center. In the middle of the space was an elevator built into a transparent cylinder that ran up into the complex. Roxana pointed up in the air.

“The security station is...”

The doors of the elevator opening interrupted her. From inside came a single Carduchian, armored from head to toe in ribbed plate armor. Around him were six monstrous Taochi warriors. They were twice the size of the Carduchian and with not a piece of flesh showing. Their armor was thick and covered in studs and extra plates. They carried energy shields and short maces in their hands.

“Spatharii, form a phalanx!” Glaucon yelled.

The ten Arcadians formed perhaps the smallest wall of Terrans in the history of warfare. Xenophon and his comrades joined them in tight ranks, with their weapons out in front. The Carduchian leader walked toward them as though he didn’t have a care in the world. The gun battle inside the distant dome was audible, yet had little effect on them.

“Cover me,” said Xenophon.

He moved out from the group and ahead by a few meters. With a thought, the blades in his arm-mounted weapons retracted.

“I am Topoteretes Xenophon, second-in-command of this force.”

The Carduchian laughed and replied in the same language, but with a thickly concealed accent.

“I do not care. You Terrans have assaulted Carduchian territory. You have declared war on the Median Empire and the Satrapy of Carduchia. Lower your weapons or face annihilation.”

Xenophon shook his head and kept his hands low.

“We do not want war.”

Artemas and Roxana were busily speaking to each other, while Glaucon did his best to hold Tamara back. She pushed him hard and then stumbled out to land right next to Xenophon. He looked at her as she straightened herself up.

“The distress signal, it’s coming from up there.”

She didn’t move her head and instead simply used her eyes.

“Good work.”

The door to the next habitation dome hissed open, and nearly twenty more Carduchians spread around the Taochi soldiers.

“Now, surrender your forces,” said their commander.

“No,” Xenophon replied firmly, “In seconds, the Laconians, with hundreds of troops will come through that dome and into this intersection. If you do not surrender, they will kill every soldier and civilian on this outpost. Do you understand me?”

The Carduchian looked to the Taochi soldiers who stood motionless, waiting for their orders. Another of his comrades stepped out from the dome and to his side. They spoke quietly for several seconds. Finally, the first looked back to Xenophon.

“Order your ships back and we will talk.”

The airlock doors to the damaged dome ripped open and in came the Laconians, closely followed by Chirisophus. He marched in like some ancient Terran God, right up to Xenophon as though on a stroll. His troops fanned out and filled one entire half of the open space.

“Topoteretes, I see you’ve located their leadership. Good work.”

He then looked away from Xenophon and to the Carduchians.

“You have ten seconds. Lower your weapons.”

The enemy commander spoke to his own people, but one of the Taochi disagreed angrily. A Carduchian pointed a weapon at the great beast, and it turned about, yanked the firearms from its hands, and then struck the Carduchian so hard he hit the ground and stayed down. Instead, the creature bellowed and pointed at Chirisophus.

“What is it saying?” demanded Chirisophus.

Lady Artemas, though still sheltering amongst the Arcadian shield wall, called out in reply, “The Taochi say they will lower their weapons, but only if we do the same and withdraw our forces.”

Chirisophus laughed and activated his arm-mounted weaponry. The cruel looking blade pushed out and was met with a growl of approval from the small group of Taochi.

“Xenophon, do something!” Artemas pleaded.

Both groups were well armed, but the defenders would have little chance in a firefight. Xenophon looked to Chirisophus and then around the open space. More of the spatharii had moved inside, and the shimmering of Laconian shields gave the place an odd, artificial hue.