Black Legion: 02 - Assault on Khorram

by Michael G. Thomas

  “My dear, Strategos, I invited all the Dukas and their Komes to this meeting. It seemed only fair. These officers represent the entire Legion, from Pasion, the Megaran, over there to Menon and his two thousand warriors. We will find out very soon what they have to say.”

  Clearchus looked into the eyes of Cyrus and tried to imagine what further schemes or plans he had hatched. Cyrus was rich, undoubtedly, but how far could he be trusted?

  This isn’t good, not good at all. If he addresses the Legion, they will tear him apart for his betrayal. This needs a Terran. I need to take control of this announcement, and I need my topoteretes in here now!

  Clearchus looked out at the large number of Terran officers who were stood in a large horde in the open. As he glanced at them, he discreetly pressed a hidden button on his sleeve. It went unnoticed, at least he hoped so. Cyrus took a step forward, and it was clear he was about to speak to the assembled troops. The Dukas were all at the front with their contingents stood around them. It gave the effect of an ancient warband from the history of Old Earth. The Terrans wore their dark grey uniforms, and in the low light of the great hall it looked more like black. Some bore the symbols of their old states such as Arcadia or Attica on their chests, and others carried personal markings or even the symbols of their companies or families. It was a disparate group of men and women, but all of them shared a common experience in the violent work of the mercenary.

  The Median commander inhaled, about to speak when in walked Kleandridas and Pleistoanax. These were Clearchus’ two deputies, and his most experienced and loyal officers. These mighty warriors were the equal of Clearchus in close quarter fighting and looked both massive and powerful. As they moved down the hall, the assembled officers moved aside to create a corridor that led directly to the end and the antechamber. It was almost ceremonial and took nearly a minute for them to make the journey. By the time they reached the three commanders, the Great Hall was completely silent with every single warrior watching them. The two men wore their official uniforms as well as their traditional Laconian armour and crimson cloaks. They stopped in front of Clearchus and knelt down before him. He nodded to them, the signal for them to stand and move to his flanks. He took this as is his cue and stepped out ahead of Cyrus.

  He thought to himself: I need to make this good or this Legion is finished. No Legion, and I’ll have to return to Laconia, and they will want to know how I was able to commandeer a decommissioned Titan!

  It was time to speak, but there was little time to think of the treason back home and his violent struggle from his homeworld. It gave him little pleasure knowing he could not return, at least not until he had achieved great victories and trophies to bring back with him.

  “Men and women of the Legion, you have been brought here for a great announcement.”

  He held out his arms as if welcoming them all to the hall.

  “This mighty ship might be from old Laconia, but in this fleet we are all Black Legion. We have joined this endeavour for many reasons, some of us for money, others for fame, and perhaps even a little glory.”

  A low chortle rippled through the crowd. Clearchus grinned to himself, satisfied that he seemed to have their attention and support, so far at least. He took another deep breath and continued.

  “There are others, like myself that have found themselves forced from their homes. I have been away from Laconia for some time, and yet not one day passes where I wish I were anywhere else. Never in our history have so many warriors been assembled for such a bold enterprise.”

  Here it comes, make it good!

  “You joined to fight for Lord Cyrus here,” he waved with his right arm over to the Median Lord.

  “He sets the objective, and then we take care of it. I am pleased to tell you that we have not been assembled to simply deal with pirates and rebels. No, we have been assembled for a much nobler and much more dangerous campaign, and one that will be remembered for generations to come.”

  He looked back to Cyrus who was now smiling in his own discrete manner. Clearchus relaxed, if only a little when he saw him.

  All I have to do now is sell the plan and make it sound good.

  He pressed a button on the massive stone table. Above it appeared a projected model of the galaxy. A few deft gestures and he had programmed in the ultimate destination. The starmap started to pan across but slow enough that he could continue speaking without giving it all away.

  “Lord Cyrus is the brother of the Emperor, a man known to us as Artaxerxes. This man is a tyrant, worse than many of his predecessors. Since coming to power four years ago, he has made numerous enemies and even murdered most of his close family. He is no friend of ours and still claims our lands as his own.”

  He glanced to the starmap and noted the display had move passed Terran territories and was working through the borders of the Median Empire.

  “My friends, our objective will secure peace and stability for all our worlds and create a friend amongst the Medes. Our campaign will be to the heart of the Empire, where we will find and defeat Artaxerxes so that his brother, the noble Lord Cyrus can take his place.”

  The great hall erupted into noise as the scores of officers realised what their commander had just said. The talking and muttering quickly turned to shouting, and it took almost a full minute for the noise to die down. Dukas Kratez, the Achaean, stepped forward, resplendent in the insignia of his homeworld, and around him stood his personal guards, including a dozen Komes warriors. He voice boomed throughout the hall.

  “Strategos Clearchus, are you actually suggesting that a Terran mercenary force of just ten thousand can move through heavily defended Median space to strike at the Imperial capital? This is surely madness?”

  Dukas Xenias followed immediately afterwards without giving Clearchus even a moment to respond.

  “We have four Titans, enough to defend against a major Median attack, but surely not enough to survive in hostile territory for so long? My forces signed up for border wars against enemies of the Medes as well as enemies to our own Terran worlds. They did not sign up to join a Median civil war. This could have dire consequences for all Terrans.”

  Clearchus again lifted his hands for silence.

  “I hear your worries, but let me explain. Our intelligence over the last week has shown collusion between Tissaphernes and the Mulacs. He has contacted us to help suppress a revolt between him and the Psidian traders that are apparently blockading several trade routes. It seems that these are all ruses to blunt our combat power of the Legion and to reduce the influence of Lord Cyrus.”

  He pointed to each of the Dukas that stood at the front of the crowd.

  “Each of you commands a contingent that is more powerful than an entire Median army. This is what Artaxerxes fears, and he is using his local satraps to wear us down.”

  Cyrus himself moved closer and pulled back his robe to reveal elaborately detailed and jewelled armour. It was so close fitting it looked almost rubberised.

  “May I?” he asked Clearchus in a quiet, polite tone.

  Clearchus nodded and took a step back to join the others.

  “My comrades of the Legion, all this is a game to my brother. He is a tyrant and a warmonger and will stop at nothing until he exerts complete control over the border lands. Trust me, he will not stay there.”

  He paused and tried to assess the crowd, especially their mood.

  “The only reason I have been able to assemble a force of this kind was by playing along with this feud with Tissaphernes. He brought in the Mulacs I am sure, to try and break me and this Legion. But you all proved him wrong.”

  There was nothing, not even a gesture from the audience; they simply stared at him with empty eyes as he spoke.

  What is wrong with them?

  He waited, watching them but nothing changed. The longer he watched them, the more he thought he could see anger or disdain in their faces. Perhaps the ruse of recruiting them to deal with pirates and raiders had been a littl
e optimistic, but still, they were only mercenaries.

  Mercenaries, of course, he said to himself, all I need to do is to appeal to their most base nature.

  He nodded in satisfaction at his realisation. It was only when he could see one of the Dukas watching him that he caught himself and stopped the physical gesture.

  Okay, perhaps this will get their attention.

  “This is all politics and diplomacy, and for that I apologise. What is of much more importance is what I want you to do and what your rewards will be for doing it. You are mercenaries, the best I have ever seen and worthy of the greatest pay.”

  That seemed to make a change, and already a number of the lower ranked Komes were busy speaking quietly to their comrades.

  Yes, nothing gets the attention of a mercenary quite like the idea of money, now does it? He almost laughed to himself at his tactic.

  “For those of the Legion that follow me against my brother, I will offer you this. First, an immediate payment to the value of triple pay, plus...”

  He waited, letting the suspense build up.

  “Plus a percentage of the loot from the spoils of my brother’s defeated army, and this will be substantial.”

  Now this statement caught the Legion’s attention. Pay was one thing, but the chance to take a chunk of the loot from a defeated Median army could be enough to make a man rich. It was the dream of any mercenary to face such an opportunity.

  Dukas Xenias lifted both of his arms for silence, and most of the officers quietened down with the exception of a handful from the Boeotian contingent commanded by Proxenus. He called out, his booming voice echoing across the great hall.

  “I’m sure you are aware, Lord Cyrus, that as Arcadians, we have a treaty with Emperor Artaxerxes. It is not just us, but the Laconians also have the same non-aggression agreement with the Empire. If we join you then we, as citizens of Boeotia and Laconia, would be considered enemies of the Empire.”

  Cyrus smiled at the assembled warriors.

  “Only if we lose,” he replied with a mischievous grin that made even Strategos Clearchus smile.

  * * *

  Xenophon waited along with the many hundreds of other stratiotes warriors in the landing bay of the Arcadian Titan, Olympia. Like the rest of his comrades, he was armoured and equipped as a light infantryman. This meant he wore quality armour plus a variety of ranged weapons. Unlike the more heavily equipped spatharii, they didn’t carry the heavy energy shields that made the other troops so devastating at close quarters. To his right stood Pentarchos Glaucon, his faithful, if somewhat excitable, comrade from Attica. Tamara, still with her electric blue hair, stood further along the column. Xenophon looked across the open space to the other line of warriors and quickly spotted the rest of the stratiotes. They were part of the same unit and wore the patches of the Night Blades, the adopted name of the unit. Stood to the right of the group was Roxana Devereux, his close friend and one of their newest dekarchos.

  “She looks pretty good with ten men at her command, don’t you think?” whispered Glaucon slyly in his ear.

  Xenophon struggled not to laugh, but a brief splutter caught the attention of one of the more senior dekarchos. He swallowed and looked straight ahead as if nothing had happened.

  “Attention!” shouted one of the commanders. Every warrior stood straight and waited for their leader. The door hissed open and out burst Dukas Xenias and his retinue. It was clear from the shouting that something had annoyed him. Rather than speaking to his troops, he simply stormed off along the landing bay and to one of the many ramps that followed on up inside the Titan. Only Komes Pasion and a handful of his junior officers waited behind.

  “What the hell is going on?” muttered one of the stratiotes. The Komes heard the man and glared at him but said nothing. A colourful argument continued before he followed after the Dukas into the darkness.

  “Okay, people, dismissed!” shouted a woman at the end of the hall. It wasn’t clear who she was, but in a flash the landing bay was filled with the movement of hundreds of warriors. Xenophon walked over to Roxana who was busy speaking with the members of her own unit. She spotted his approach and finished up in time to turn to speak with him.

  “Xenophon, what’s going on?” she asked.

  He shrugged and glanced in the direction the Dukas had taken.

  “I know the Dukas was taking part in an operational meeting with the Strategos.”

  “He must have heard something that didn’t agree with him,” suggested Glaucon with more than a hint of his usual sarcasm.

  Tamara ran over and joined them. She looked almost excited and interrupted them all.

  “I’ve just heard about the Dukas, have you?”

  “Heard what?” Xenophon asked.

  “The Dukas is deserting the Legion.”

  “What?” snapped a tall, black dekarchos who was marching past with his own group. He walked over and looked at the blue-haired Tamara.

  “Who told you that crap?”

  “I heard from the transport pilot if you must know,” she replied irreverently and then turned back to Xenophon. “Apparently, there was a big argument, and the Dukas refused to continue on the campaign.”

  Roxana nodded in agreement as the young girl spoke.

  “That makes sense, you saw how pissed he was when he landed.”

  A high pitched whistle stopped their conversation. It was the warning that usually preceded a public announcement.

  “This is it!” said Glaucon.

  There was a short crackle on the speakers, and then at key points on the ship a number of holographic models of the commander appeared. About ten metres from where Xenophon stood the closest public address image appeared. They walked over and joined the dozens of other fighters as they crowded around. Dukas Xenias was an imposing figure and was now wearing his full parade dress, including tactical armour and weapons.

  “Crew and warriors of Olympia, it grieves me to inform you that this ship and her complement of warriors will not be participating in the campaign under the command of Lord Cyrus. The terms of our enlistment into the Legion have proven false and make my taking part illegal if I continue. All Arcadian warriors are also unable to continue. For the rest of you, the same is true. You have signed up to fight for me, and it is my intention to take this ship and our escorts back into Terran space. We will conduct our own operations against the Psidians and have been offered substantial rewards by Satrap Tissaphernes to participate.”

  Glaucon flashed a glance over the Xenophon.

  “Tissaphernes?” he whispered.

  Roxana moved closer to Xenophon, so close that he forgot what the Dukas was saying for a few seconds as he felt her breath on his face. Her quiet voice brought him back to the present though. He looked at her face and realised she had been speaking.

  “Xenophon, are you listening?” she asked. “Is he serious?”

  He looked at her and back to the holographic model. The Dukas gave the impression he was looking directly at him. It was of course nonsense, the communication system being used was one way, but the illusion was impressive.

  “Lord Cyrus intends to depose the rightful Emperor in a bloody civil war. He will use the Legion as the spear tip of this war and will throw our best Terran warriors into a conflict that could spread to every Terran world. He plans a full scale expedition into the heart of the Median Empire.”

  Glaucon unintentionally laughed. Xenophon pulled at his shoulder, but his noise had already spread and started off several of the others.

  “Is he serious? A civil war with Artaxerxes?” he asked, doing his best to keep a straight face.

  Xenophon nodded.

  “It looks that way. I hope Clearchus realises how long this could take. The Median Empire is over a thousand worlds that are spread out in the known galaxy. If he wants the Emperor, then we will have to travel to the capital to find him,” he explained.

  The figure of Dukas Xenias vanished for a moment and then reappeared.
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  “The plan of Cyrus will require a journey of almost a month. It will travel through the barren wastelands of the Su’bartu Maelstrom; a place so dangerous only one in three ships ever makes it through. At the Median side of the Maelstrom is the massive fortified Babylon Sector. The entire area is filled with bases, fortresses and factory worlds. As you all know, it is also the home of the Imperial Fleet. It will have to be captured, destroyed or bypassed just to clear a route to the capital and the Emperor. No ship can approach the Core Worlds until this area is neutralised in some way. Even if this works, the Legion will then have to face his personal fleet and ground forces. It is a suicide mission, and the Olympia will play no part.”

  A low rumble started to shake the Titan. For anything to have that effect, it would have to have been substantial.

  “FTL engines!” called out one of the junior officers.

  With a low hum, the Titan shook even more and then everything settled again.

  “This is our first jump on the return journey. All units will return to their allotted quarters and await orders. At our destination, a number of transports will be made available to take anybody that doesn’t wish to continue with this unit. Dukas Xenias, out.”

  Xenophon stepped back from the display and watched a small number of the Night Blades moving away. He looked back to the rest of his friends, and each appeared to be waiting to hear what he had to say.

  “Well, looks like we’re heading home, then.”

  “What?” snapped back Glaucon, “No chance, you know what will happen if we set foot on Attica. We’re wanted men now, and both of us are implicated in the bombings in the capital.”

  The speakers activated again, but this time without the video transmission. The voice wasn’t familiar, and the slight low level of compression in the signal suggested it was a pre-recorded loop of audio.

  “Security update for all personnel. Under the terms of our treaty, we may not offer or contribute services to any enemy of the Empire. Any member of this ship’s crew attempting to leave for the Legion will be considered a traitor and thrown into the brig. Report to your stations and await further orders.”