“Is there a problem?” asked Clearchus, instantly suspicious of Medes deception.
Cyrus looked from left to right, his eyes examining the area with great scrutiny.
What’s he up to? Clearchus, for a moment, suspected the Medes noble might be about to release some kind of weapon or machine.
“Something isn’t right. Ariaeus said he had taken the station, but look around you. How many casualties do you see?”
Clearchus looked off to his left where a series of black marks indicated the after-effects of a gun battle. Two combat drones lay in smashed heaps with chunks of metal and electronics scattered around them. He moved closer to investigate. Cyrus, as well as his bodyguards, followed close behind. Upon reaching the first debris, he bent down to examine it.
“Well?” asked Cyrus.
He looked at it, but at first glance it was hard to tell. The use of combat drones had been outlawed for a very long time in the Terran worlds. This particular unit seemed relatively old fashioned, especially by the account of its joints and motor units.
“Looks old, I’d say seventy years, maybe more. It looked similar to the sentry drones we encountered back in your last invasions, reliable, but poor on skills and intelligence. There is one like this in the state museum on Laconia.”
“So potentially black market units, then?” he asked.
Clearchus shrugged and looked back. There were blue markings amongst the shoulder mounting that looked familiar. He moved closer, but a sound caught his ear. None of the other Terrans picked it up, but it was one he was intimately familiar with.
“Capacitors!” he shouted and hurled himself towards Cyrus. The two crashed to the ground and their bodyguards rushed in, assuming the worst. The high pitched squeal became almost deafening until followed by a large crack. A blue energy field rippled across the entrance to the landing zone and anything caught in its path was sliced in half. One of the dromons and three spatharii were caught out.
“Strategos, to us!” cried one of the Dekarchos in charge of the combat unit. Six warriors rushed over to the fallen leaders and placed their own bodies and personal shields before them and the potential enemy. The expected weapons fire never arrived though, and they were able to stand and examine their predicament. The open landing space contained the single large unit of spatharii and the small squads of troops that had spread out to clear the area. Apart from Cyrus and Clearchus, the only others present were five Medes guards. Clearchus tapped his right arm and removed the safety from his Asgeirr-Carbine. As it powered up, the razor sharp blade fitted to the weapon extended forwards. In his right arm, his personal shield unit powered up and created a shimmering shield like those of the rest of the spatharii.
The large doors in front and to their sides opened up with a hiss. From their position in the landing bay, they were at least a hundred metres from each of the openings. The Laconian infantry altered their stances so that no man left his flank exposed to the potential threat. Clearchus marched to the largest group and stood on the right flank with his own weapon pointed directly at the door in the centre. Cyrus and his guard unit ran over to him and positioned themselves in the centre.
“Lord Cyrus, order your men to throw down their weapons!” came a familiar voice. Clearchus didn’t seem to notice, but to Cyrus it was as though the man was stood right next to him.
“Menon!” he spat out as though he had almost swallowed a mouth of venom.
On hearing the name of the Medes criminal, Clearchus realised they were in a serious situation. He looked back over his shoulder at the energy field that had cut off their escape route to any of the dromons.
Dammit, we’ve got ourselves into a stupid position, he thought before smiling to himself. At least it is as I expected, now we just need to turn this to our advantage.
Clearchus tapped the communication button on his arm and instantly connected through to the Valediction.
“Kleandridas, have you been monitoring our situation?”
“Of course, Strategos,” came back the instant response from his deputy.
Cyrus looked back to him, waiting expectantly for Clearchus to give the signal.
“Do it!” said Clearchus, barely able to contain his excitement.
Nothing happened immediately, and to the spatharii it appeared they might have done something wrong. From each of the darkened bulkhead doorways emerged the great hulk of heavy combat drones. These were not like the models they had seen smashed and broken around Ariaeus. Standing a metre taller than the Terrans, these bipedal machines were tough, slow and by the look of the weapons fitted to their shoulders, very well armed. More machines clanked forward until eight of the vast machines stood in a loose crescent formation to face off against the huddled Terrans. A voice boomed through the landing bay.
“This is Menon. As you can see, this station is under my protection. I have taken control of this sector, and you are here under force of arms. You will either leave or join me for a discussion on your plans. Either way, Lord Cyrus will stay here.”
Cyrus was about to say something, but Clearchus simply grimaced and indicated with his hand for him to stay silent. The spatharii waited behind their shimmering shields, the slight buzz from their generators betraying their readiness. Clearchus himself looked down briefly at his Asgeirr-Carbine. It was charged and ready, but even so, he had to be sure. A gentle tone in his ear announced another message from Kleandridas.
“Strategos, we are burning through, ten seconds.”
He nodded to himself but said nothing. The communication node was a useful and discrete way to communicate, but he wanted to give nothing away in such a dangerous situation. The nearest combat drone took a step forward and pointed its heavy weapons directly at the large group of Terrans. The weapon had the look of the heavy pulse cannons fitted to many fighters, yet this one consisted of a pod containing dual-linked weapons.
“I will not ask again!” said the familiar voice of Menon.
There was no need to reply though as a series of loud bangs and screams of metal tore through the landing bay. It wasn’t clear what was going on, but the shudder through the floor made it clear something major was going on.
“Strategos, we’re in!” said Kleandridas through the communication node. It was the message he had been waiting for, and Clearchus didn’t hesitate. He lifted his Asgeirr-Carbine in the air and cried out to his warriors.
“Forward!”
He pushed forward, but his warriors were already moving, like runners waiting for a starting pistol. Unlike any other Terran military force, the Laconians trained for war every day of their lives. Rather than practice their shooting from behind cover, they made it their mission to close with the enemy where they could use their greater skills, training and strength to their advantage. Leading from the front was the battle-experienced Komes Artemis, a renowned Laconian officer and the senior commander of the unit. He pushed ahead along with the entire main unit, each separated by about a metre. The loose formation surged towards the combat drones with speed and efficiency that impressed even Clearchus. The Strategos himself moved with them, barely two metres behind the leading warriors. Cyrus and his bodyguard moved to the large bulkheads along the left-hand side where there was more cover and provided light but effective weapons fire from range.
“To me!” shouted Komes Artemis as he reached the first drone. Menon must have been confused or distracted as the machines didn’t open fire until the Laconians were at their feet. The open space between the two sides was quickly replaced with fifty spatharii with Clearchus and the dozen heavy combat drones.
Two of the spatharii knelt down before the first drone and lifted up their energy shields for protection. The Komes jumped onto them and leapt up, his shield still active and moving with him as he jumped up the shoulder of the machine. He smashed his shield into the robot’s armoured head, sending cracking blue sparks of electricity around them both. Before he started to drop back, he slammed the monofilament tip of his Asgeirr-Car
bine into its collar. The engineering and precision quality of the weapon allowed its charged and powered tip to bury nearly ten centimetres inside. As he hung from the top of the drone, it opened fire, the heavy weapons mount blazing away at the group of Terrans. At this range most shields would be ineffective, but the Laconians carried the heaviest shielding known to the Terrans. Round after round bounced from their energy fields and then they were amongst them. Close ranged pulse carbine fire ripped holes in metal armour, and one by one the Terrans overwhelmed the machines.
“Bring it down!” cried the Komes as he pulled the trigger on his weapon. A dozen pulse projectiles ripped through the innards of the machine, yet still it kept fighting. A streak of blue energy erupted from the shoulder of the drone, and two Terran warriors flew back and to the floor. Before they could stand, a second drone tore them apart with a long, continuous volley of gunfire.
“Laconians, as one!” called out Clearchus, and he waded into the battle. He pushed forward and attacked the drone that Komes Artemis was still attached to. He stabbed at the joints in the leg and fired away with the carbine, doing as much damage as he could. He spotted one of the drones moving into the middle of the landing bay, its weapons firing in random directions while three Terrans stabbed and fired at close range. It collapsed, and in seconds they finished it off on the ground. He looked up to his own foe to find the head of the machine staring directly at him.
These are tough little machines.
He delivered a powerful uppercut that embed his blade in the top of the machine and emptied the rest of the magazine of his carbine into its head. The force of the gunfire snapped its head backwards and freed his carbine. Even so, it was able to swing with its left arm, and Clearchus barely managed to turn his shield before he was hit. The impact was like running into a wall, and he was thrown to the ground on his back.
“Strategos, look out!” cried one of the spatharii through his communication node. His vision was blurred, but he didn’t think and just used whatever energy and strength reserves remained. He rolled to one side, just as the bulk of the metal monster crashed down on top of his previous hiding place. Two of the Terrans helped him up, and as his vision cleared, he could see the shape of four remaining drones battling the large number of Laconians. His head pounded from the pain of the impact, but he allowed himself a smile at the fact his men were able to take on and actually defeat such powerful things. They had fallen back and were retreating to the larger of the doorways. To hold back the Terrans, the machines were firing every last weapon at them, creating a rain of fire that forced the Laconians to hunker down behind their shields. A wide burst of pulse cannon rounds forced him to his knees, and he ducked to avoid the fire. Only the shielding of the men in front saved him from a quick and ignominious death at the hands of the drones. He aimed at the nearest and tried to shoot back, but the defensive fire was too great.
“Strategos, we cannot move against firepower of that magnitude. We need to flank their guns,” said the battered but excitable Komes Artemis. His armour showed signs of scorch marks, and at least one of the cannon rounds had dented parts of the armour around his flank.
“Kleandridas, where are you?” he whispered, speaking to his deputy through the communications node. A streak of energy slammed into the front of the line and knocked three Laconian warriors down, creating a gap in the line. Clearchus was pushed back but was able to regain his footing only to see the weapons mount swivel to face him.
Gods, this is it, he thought.
A flicker of movement came from behind the machines, and two dozen heavily armoured spatharii, led by Kleandridas, surged from the darkness. They were unshielded and instead carried two Asgeirr-Carbines, one fitted to each arm. A great hail of gunfire hit the rear of the machines, and two were brought down by the explosive power of the pulse round. The warriors charged in and stabbed and blasted the other two at close range. Sensing victory was near; Clearchus lifted his arm and roared. The pinned Laconians jumped forward and joined their brothers in a brief melee that reduced the last two to smashed junk in seconds. In the middle of the heap of wrecked machines, Clearchus extended his hands to Kleandridas and to Komes Artemis.
“Good work, my brothers, now on to Menon and that back stabbing bitch Ariaeus. I want this station shut down and stripped of anything we can use in less than one hour, understood?”
The two men nodded in agreement, but both found it hard to conceal their pleasure at the use of the feminine insult to the Medes commander. The Medes were long regarded as soft and effeminate, especially when compared to the physically strong people of Laconia. Komes Artemis brushed the dirt from his armour, and after directing a small group of the newly arrived spatharii to treat the wounded, he signalled for the rest of the warriors to assemble. Clearchus turned to Kleandridas.
“What is your status?”
“We breached the support pylon between the primary and secondary structures. Assault dromons are in position around the secondary section, and two teams of spatharii are moving through the shield generator and living quarter sections.”
Clearchus nodded in satisfaction. The rest of the men were already moving out through the large door and towards the support pylon. The large transparent metals used in its construction allowed a limited view out into space, but the shape of the Laconian assault dromon was obvious. Sparks and flashes continued from where the vessel had landed on the right side of the pylon. As they approached it, another group of four warriors dropped out of the hole and into the station. Clearchus tapped Kleandridas on the shoulder.
“Excellent work, my friend, how soon can you seal up your breach?”
“Engineers will start work in the next few minutes. It will not take long once a containment field is established.”
“Good, come with me, I think it is time to have a chat with Menon and Ariaeus.”
Kleandridas followed Clearchus and the large group of spatharii inside the secondary structure. The light was off in most places, and they were reliant upon their helmets built-in thermal imaging or shoulder mounted lamps.
“Switch to thermal imaging, people,” called out the Komes over the communication node. Two of the warriors switched off their lamps; there was no sense in giving away their position in the dark by using powerful lamps. The equipment changed their vision into shades of colour to indicate the temperature or the area around them. The Terrans showed up quite clearly, especially against the coldness of the mainly deactivated station.
“Komes, how will we see the machines if they don’t let off heat?” asked one of the younger warriors.
“Don’t worry, kid, all of these battle drones are powered by small plasma power plants. At this distance, they will show up like small nuclear power stations.”
The group fanned out with the spatharii checking for any signs of the deadly machines. Komes Artemis remembered one of the last encounters he had faced with the machines. As they moved through the darkness, he recalled the industrial machine that had been modified by the workers on Laconia. It had been just the one machine, but over thirty warriors had been killed trying to bring it to the ground. That wasn’t the worst part though. His mind was brought back into focus as one of the dreaded machines appeared, and one of the Terrans was gripped in its iron fist. With a sickening scream, it tore the man in half, hurling his remains to the floor.
“Kill it!” shouted one of the Dekarchos, and the open space filled with hundreds of pulse rounds. An autocannon projectile glanced from one of the Terran’s shields and clipped his shoulder, almost knocking him back. In anger, he regained his balance and aimed carefully.
Just like back home, he thought bitterly.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Vendetta, Su’bartu Maelstrom
Artemas and Xenophon waited patiently as the two guards, presumably men loyal to Andronicus, walked passed them. Their hiding place was well chosen as it was a cramped storage area for empty storage containers. Inside, the small area stank of refuse, old oil and burnin
g. It was hardly a place anybody would choose to visit. The small glass viewport in the door was barely wide enough for Xenophon to peer through. Artemas pushed her face up close to him, and he had to make a conscious effort to concentrate on the corridor and not her.
“What?” she asked, noticing him looking at her.
“Huh, nothing, why?” he replied nervously.
What is it with her? She’s attractive, sure, but there’s something else.
He shook his head. He had more important things to do than spend his time looking at an unusual, if highly attractive, alien operative. He looked back through the glass and saw the two guards finally move out of sight. The command deck and the rooms being used to hold the prisoners were in the next section, but from the number of guards moving about, he calculated there must be at least half a dozen more inside.
“Okay, it’s clear for about twenty seconds, are they ready?” he asked.
She nodded and placed the small metal spheres on the ground. Moving as carefully as he could, he slid open the door to create a gap of just a few centimetres. As it moved, there was an ever so quiet creak that sent a shudder up his spine. Luckily, nobody seemed to hear it. Not yet, anyway.
“Do it,” he whispered.
Artemas tapped a button, and the small group of metal bugs activated. The sound their tiny monofilament wings made was almost impossible to discern. The first lifted up and moved to the gap, and the others did the same. As they quickly moved out into the corridor, Artemas lifted a small metal flap fitted into the close fitting clothing on her left arm. It revealed a touch based control unit and small screen. They both watched as the devices moved to the doorway of the command deck. A large group of armed men stood nearby, each carrying a carbine or a Doru Mk II Rifle. Xenophon sighed as he watched.
Black Legion: 02 - Assault on Khorram Page 13
