Black Legion: Gates of Cilicia (28 page)

Cyrus watched him, waiting before answering. The General knew the basic plan and the mission, but did he want to give him the details for his real objective? The longer he withheld the specifics, the harder it would be for the Armada to turn away. There was a chance they would simply turn and leave if he told them the truth.

A little truth will hide the lie.
A smile formed on his face. He knew well the strengths and weaknesses of most of the Terran factions. The Alliance was proud and easily angered. The Laconians were quiet, stoic but irresistible in battle and violence. It would be easy to goad them into battle when it suited him.

“We have a large fleet, but even the most foolish of enemies will have scouts and spies. The longer we take, the greater the chance he will have to bring in more forces. I am just worried we will increase the difficulty by waiting, that is all.”

“Numbers don’t concern me,” said Clearchus with a strong sense of pride.

They should, my young friend.
Cyrus almost felt pity for the man’s hubris.

“The Armada is in excellent shape. You have done your work well. The Terran contingents alone are already enough to provide over thirty bandon. I do not know of any ground force that could stand to their number or quality.”

“You think this, even of your non-Laconian troops?” asked Cyrus, somewhat surprised at his comments.

“They may not match my Laconians, but they are still strong, well drilled and trained. With your coin, we have sufficient quality weapons and armour to equip the entire force. Every Terran here has military experience and training and are more than a match for any Medes, Mulac or even Mycona.”

“I see, and your ship?”

Clearchus nodded at the question.

“As you would expect, my Laconian infantry are fit, trained and ready for battle. They are itching to get stuck into the enemy, my Lord. What of this contingent? Do we not already have enough troops?”

Cyrus smiled at the General.

These Laconians, they seem simple with their constant training and desire for conflict. Yet there is something about them, something simple perhaps to admire. Their courage, or is it the simple pleasure they take from doing something well?

“I’ve heard about your ship, one of the last twelve Titans still in existence amongst your people. My father tried to destroy them all, you’ll recall? They proved somewhat difficult. As for the contingent, they are a last minute addition from the Ionian Realm, and they have their own special talents.”

Clearchus smiled, but due to a small scar above his lip, it looked more like a snarl. He had no great vendetta against the Empire, but he did wear that self-satisfied expression worn by most Laconians because they all knew, man for man, they had no equal.

“I see. Yes, the Ionians are probably the best shipbuilders and engineers we’ve yet encountered. Still, I don’t see what use they will be in this expedition. I’m sure you have your reasons.”

He waited, but Cyrus said nothing. It was clear he was not interested in discussing it any further. Clearchus might be officially in charge, but Cyrus held the purse strings, and in a mercenary adventure such as this it was all about the money. He thought back to his comments about his ship.

“Lord Cyrus, your people in the Empire may have infinite resources, people and ships, but none are a match for a Terran Titan and her crew. A hundred
Median vessels would be hard pressed to even board a Titan. And why would you ever want to board one? Especially one protected by Laconians!
”

“Quite. You would do well, young Clearchus, to not become too smug about your position with the Terrans. Your people and your ships are strong, but nobody, not even Laconia, is invincible. Perhaps if you had a few more people of your own, your own planet wouldn’t be in such a poor position. A few earthquakes and a slave revolt, and suddenly you are without money or manpower. Remember my offer,
The Median Empire is prepared to make a sizable offering of our own automatons to help your people. They may not be as strong and durable as your own slaves, but they are numerous and loyal.
”

Clearchus snorted with derision at the prospect of having
Median automatons toiling the lands that his ancestors had protected and built.

“Never. We are not perfect. I will give you that. But we will rebuild, and with the money from this expedition, the Laconian League will become the strongest and dominant empire amongst all Terrans. Don’t misunderstand our use of indentured workers in our society. They are treated well and are able live long and stable lives on Laconia. The use of artificially created life is outlawed on every civilised Terran world.”

Cyrus nodded as if agreeing.

He cannot see it. The weakness that he feels is his people’s strength.

“The slave revolt on your planet would suggest otherwise, though?”

He watched the General’s reaction and quickly regretted his words. It was critical that the Laconian general would command his forces in battle. He might be an able politician and administrator, but there was no doubt who the true masters of war were. He looked at Clearchus and spotted the tension building in him.

They are so quick to anger, so passionate and so willing to fight.

“I’m sure your friends in the Alliance will be glad to hear that Laconia will once again be powerful and well resourced,” laughed Cyrus, doing his best to calm the situation and avoid a possible confrontation.

Clearchus was no fool and noted the change in Cyrus’ voice. The Median nobleman had clearly realised he had overstepped his mark. He avoided the earlier comments and smiled, at least as close to a smile as he could muster. Cyrus relaxed a little, glad that they were back on neutral territory, for now.

“It amazes me how with all of the worlds and empires run by you humans, you seem to spend more time fighting each other than a common enemy.”

He crossed his hands in front of his body and smiled.

“Not that I am complaining, of course. Because of your constant fighting, you have produced the finest fighting men and women in the known Galaxy.”

He turned and looked out through the thick, reinforced window.

“And that is no easy feat, when you see some of the warriors in my brother’s Empire.”

Clearchus laughed out loudly.

“Trust me, we’ve thought about that. Luckily for you, we have enough to worry about with the rest of the Terrans to have any designs on your own empire…” he said, and then paused for effect, “…for now!”

Cyrus laughed, but the comments did hit home. He was beginning to think the same thing. The Terrans were an asset, but they also posed a grave risk, and one he would have to manage carefully. He watched the ships for a moment, the number and size of them was impressive, but it was the Titans that really caught his eye. In his many years he had seen them, sometimes in battle, but most of the time waiting at some starbase. Only once before, had he been able to witness three in one place. Now there were four of them in formation, each surrounded by hundreds of smaller cruisers and destroyers. It was a force capable of destroying entire fleets, possibly even empires. He smiled inwardly as he thought about his plan and turned back to the General.

This will work. I will make it work,
he decided.

“Why did you think I hired so many of you? With four Titans and the best-trained warriors in the Galaxy, there will be none who can stand before me. When this is all over, it will lead to a lasting peace and I hope, a period of mutual trust and understanding between both our peoples.”

Clearchus nodded in agreement. Although many might doubt the intentions of one of the most powerful men in the Empire, he considered himself to be a good judge of character. Cyrus had always been clear with him right from the first time they had met The armada of mercenaries had been assembled from the rusting remains of a dozen fleets, and each thrown together into a hasty but well equipped armada. Only the Laconian ships were in decent shape, but like most things Laconian, they lacked the numbers to be able to go it alone. He just wished the Laconian League had the resources to carry out this mission for Cyrus alone, rather than having to involve warriors and ships from every part of the Terran territory.

A change of Laconian guards approached. They wore the grey uniform adopted by the Ten Thousand, but like Clearchus, they also wore their own Laconian armour over the top. This advanced equipment was relatively thick and provided strong protection against projectile weapons and thermal charges. Their helmets were tall, crowned with an imitation of an ancient plume to increase their height and foreboding. On the left arm of each warrior was the body shield device. Weighing nearly fifteen kilograms, it was often carried in a pack by other Terran soldiers. The Laconians trained to use it on their arm, so they could make use of the projected shield as both a defensive and offensive weapon. When activated, the device created a metre-wide disc of energy that was proof against all man portable weapons. They stood in front of the six men that were currently stood watching over Clearchus. Cyrus nodded in the direction of the guard party, and they moved through their standard procedure for the changing of the guard. It was partly practical and partly tradition, but it also maintained their position as the pre-eminent practitioners of war in the fleet.

“Your men carry their full panoply wherever they go? Even on board ships?” he asked in surprise.

Clearchus returned the salute from his men, and they formed up neatly around him and Cyrus, all waiting and watching for signs of danger.

“Of course. They are my personal guard, and a picked unit from my ship that follow me wherever I might go. Of what use would they be if unarmoured or armed? What about your guards?” he asked coyly, tilting his head slightly to the right.

Cyrus looked to the darker part of the ship where two men waited silently. They were Imperial agents but carried no visible weapons or armour.

“What guards?”

Clearchus laughed out loudly at the poor attempt to conceal armed guards on his bridge. He indicated with his hand and in less than a second, the six Laconian guards had activated their body shields on their left arms. The devices flashed and created a semi-transparent glowing shield that extended around the hand and into an oval that covered half of the body. At the same time, they raised their right arms, pointing their carbines directly at the Imperial agents. Almost as quickly, the two agents drew small metallic objects and pointed them at the Laconian soldiers. They were tiny, but Clearchus was certain they would be powerful and deadly weapons, especially if being used by the personal protectors of such an important man.

Cyrus laughed, “Okay, you make your point well. They are bound to me, and each is the newest son of their families. They have long provided guards to protect the sons and brothers of the Emperor and are completely loyal. They serve the same purpose as your own warriors.”

Clearchus indicated for his guards to stand down. They moved back to their positions and deactivated their carbines and shields. They stood still, almost like statues apart from their heads. Unlike most ceremonial guards, these men were always busy and checking the area around them. Also unlike Alliance soldiers, who usually planted the shield generators on the ground to provide cover to fight behind, only the Laconians trained to carry theirs into battle. In the right hand of each warrior was an Asgeirr-Carbine, the weapon that marked out any Laconian soldier. Though it was no more powerful than a pulse rifle of the Alliance, or any other Terran colony, it had advantages. It was half the length of a rifle. This reduced the effective range, but it made the weapon more manoeuvrable and combined with the built-in blade, it turned the right hand into a combined projectile and close quarter combat weapon.

A door to the side of the command centre of the ship hissed open revealing a three-man delegation. They wore the distinctive garb of the Ionian territories. A disputed area that had once been under Terran control, it had now been carved up into a dozen separate territories, each controlled by a powerful Ionian warlord. The high gravity world had helped breed a swarthy but short people who specialised in shipbuilding and high-energy weapons. The woman in the centre approached Cyrus and bowed down low.

“Lord Cyrus, our siege vessels are here and ready for work.”

Cyrus nodded in pleasure.

“Excellent, may I introduce you to the leader of our expedition, Strategos Clearchus of the Laconian League.”

The woman bowed again, though this time not quite as low.

“I had no idea we had the pleasure of Ionian troops on this operation,” he said with suspicion.