Artemas moved back into the centre of the room where she had recently fought Glaucon. She carried in each hand one of the synthetic training weapons, and each one was similar in size and weight as an ancient machete. She spun them in her hands with great skill and precision before stopping and pointing the tips of both towards Tamara.
“Well, shall we dance?” she asked and hurled the blade in her left hand to Tamara. It was a perfect throw, and the weapon followed a curved course towards the young woman’s face. At the last moment she reached out and caught the hilt.
“Sure, we can do that,” she answered with genuine pleasure on her face.
Tamara walked out into the training space and noticed the small number of other people working out had stopped and moved aside to watch. It was a minor crowd, but the extra eyes looking at her increased the tension and started pumping her heart faster and faster. She glanced at the weapon; it was nothing fancy and perfectly safe, providing they avoided the throat and eyes. She touched the tip with her left hand and checked the flexibility. It was enough to stop a major injury but hopefully sturdy enough to deflect a heavy blow.
“Tamara, have you ever heard of the Taochi?” she asked.
The two circled around each other, the weapons hung low and ready. Tamara shook her head at the question.
“No, why?”
Artemas kept moving but was intrigued by the footwork used by Tamara. She was slight and young, but her footwork implied significant training.
Dance or martial arts? Artemas thought.
They continued to move around each other, both watching and studying the movement of the other. Artemas was now being much more conservative with her moves, doing her best to give as little away as possible. Tamara, on the other hand, had the look of somebody that either had no idea as to what they were doing or were displaying a total disregard for the other as a ploy. She lowered her blade to the floor and stopped, almost expressionless.
“I see, you wish to draw me in?” said Artemas in reply. “Fine, let’s go!”
She took three steps forward and hacked in a horizontal slash that would have decapitated any other person. Tamara lifted her hilt but kept the point low so that she could parry in a hanging position. The blade easily slid off, and she flipped it around to deliver a counter cut to the back of Artemas’ head. The Medes woman neatly evaded the strike by bending down low to almost half her height and then took two steps to the side. The two spun their blades and faced off once more.
“Interesting, very interesting, you’ve been trained in the old way. I thought since our great wars that only the Laconians bothered in this kind of training.”
Tamara leapt forward, buoyed on by her success and delivered a withering hail of cuts. Most came from the left, but three struck low on the left, one almost striking Artemas in the forearm. They backed off once more. Neither seemed particular worn out by their action, and the look of concentration on their faces was marked.
“I wasn’t trained. I learned from experience.”
They moved again and delivered one cut after another, each parrying and deflecting, desperately trying to find an opening, but every time it was stopped. After a long exchange, they separated when Artemas lifted her hand for them to stop. She moved to Tamar and touched her hand.
“May I?” she asked.
Tamara looked back to Xenophon who simply shrugged. She looked back and nodded slowly. “I guess.”
Artemas pulled her hand to her shoulder and placed it on the skin around her collar bone. Tamara shuddered slightly as their skin made contact. Artemas closed her eyes and concentrated for a few seconds before opening them again and releasing her.
“I understand now. I am sorry for your loss,” she explained with a slightly lowered head. The others move closer and Roxana placed her arm around Tamara as though to protect her.
“What the hell was that?” asked Glaucon suspiciously.
Xenophon looked at Artemas’ face but could see no ill intent towards Tamara.
“It is a gift, something a small number of those in my family have. We are able to sense the pain of others through physical contact.”
She reached out to place her hand on Tamara again, but Xenophon grasped her hand and stopped her.
“What do you mean, shared, you can read thoughts?”
Artemas grinned at the suggestion.
“No, of course not, just emotions, and a general feeling that goes with it. If I were able to read thoughts, I would never assume I could just do so at will. That would be, well...”
“Immoral,” completed Roxana.
A low whistle and buzz reverberated through the ship. It was the loudspeaker system.
“Now hear this, our ETA for final destination is forty-three minutes. All crew and warriors are to report to their respective posts and commanders.”
The small group were silent for a second as they realised their long journey through the Su’bartu Maelstrom was almost at an end. Glaucon was the first to speak.
“So our new job is to protect Miss Artemas here, so where do we go, and what do we do?” he asked.
Roxana nodded in agreement at the question.
“That is a good point. Dukas Xenias said I was to report directly to Dekarchos Julius, the commander of his special operation unit. I suggest you all grab your gear, and we’ll meet with the rest of his unit.”
Artemas looked at Glaucon.
“No, my friend, as Xenophon knows, my official title in the fleet is Lady Artemas. It is my intention to be wherever I may be of assistance. I have some intelligence and combat skills that might prove useful.”
Tamara smiled at the last part.
“That is something none of us doubt.”
It was the first sincere and pleasant thing she had said in days.
* * *
“This is Kybernetes Ezekiel Manus. We will be jumping in sixty seconds. All combat troops check the seals on your suits and ready your weapons. Crew, man your stations. We have no intelligence on Khorram, so we will assume we are going in hot. Gods willing, we should find signs of the Legion there.”
The spatharii waited in their groups of ten, each led by an experienced dekarchos. In theory, the commanders would have a certain number of years training, but in this case the men had elected their own commanders where needed. Numbers were low as they had lost the good part of their warriors on the Titan Olympia. Most of the survivors were now waiting in the assembly areas, corridors and landing deck. Dekarchos Julius looked to his own group of heavily armoured spatharii. They were the elite warriors that had help extricate Xenophon and his people from Olympia in the first place.
“The safest place for the Lady is in your care. Her knowledge of the enemy and this area of space could prove invaluable. I want you to go with one squad of my men and establish a strong presence on the command deck. This ship is vulnerable to boarding actions, and we will not lose it again.”
Xenophon saluted and was about to move when he realised the Dekarchos was staying where he was.
“What about you, Sir?”
Julius looked to his veterans and spoke to one before turning back to Xenophon.
“The rest of my team will wait here until called for. You defend the command deck. We will be on station to board enemy vessels or come to your rescue, if you need it...again!”
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Vendetta, Khorram shipyards
Xenophon watched the rest of his squad of spatharii as they waited patiently for the hum of the jump engines to signal the start of the sequence. It was only a few more seconds, but the feeling of suspense was palpable in the command deck. Dukas Xenias stood motionless, his eyes on the display. The rest of the bridge crew monitored their stations, and the spatharii simply waited. Then it started. A low rattle that culminated in a short but powerful sense of nausea as the ship leapt between two points of space. It was fast, very fast and rougher than usual.
Must be a longer jump than normal, Xenophon thought.
The design of the
jump engines was a closely guarded secret amongst all Terrans, especially as they had developed a system of longer ranged engines than even the Medes. It was one of the reasons that all Terran ships were equipped with reactor and engine destruction equipment should a ship ever be crippled or captured.
“Five...four...three...two...one!” called out the ship’s Kybernetes. Then with a bright flash the blurred stars and shapes on the computer displays and main screen transformed into an almost pink vista. The dots turned to shipyards, planets, station and large ships.
“What’s going on!” cried the Dukas as the crew checked the ship’s sensors. Around the Vendetta appeared the four Hydra Class destroyers, each of them pockmarked and scorched from the battle during their escape from the Olympia.
Kybernetes Ezekiel Manus was fast, and in fifteen seconds had managed to isolate the key points of interest around them.
“We’ve arrived in the middle of a standoff. Off there, is the Strategos, along with the Legion in full battle array,” he said pointing to his upper left.
Xenias pointed to the massive formation of ships in the opposite direction.
“And them?”
Kybernetes Manus turned in his chair, swallowed and answered.
“The Imperial Fleet, in full battle order.”
Xenophon tore his gaze away from his spatharii and at the monstrous fleet facing them. It was not a mere few dozen ships. This was a larger number of vessels than he had ever seen in one place, and they had arrived right on the periphery of the Legion. Artemas laced her hand on his arm and leaned in.
“That ship there, it is the flagship of the Emperor himself.”
The ship’s auletes called over to Kybernetes Manus.
“Sir, I have an urgent signal from Topoteretes Pleistoanax.”
Xenias waved his hand to place it on the main screen. The face of the deputy commander of the Legion appeared.
“Dukas Xenias, you have returned!” he announced in surprise at seeing the face of the Dukas.
“Indeed. Olympia is lost, and we are all that remain,” he explained as quickly as he could. Even as they spoke, he noticed the Legion’s formation was changing shape. The Median fleet seemed to be doing the same as both sides lengthened their lines wider and wider.
“I see, well, we can discuss this after the battle. I have sent the tactical plan to your tactical officer. What assets do you have remaining?”
Xenias nodded in reply and glanced over to the tactical officer who signalled he was receiving the encoded information on the battle plan. It was a much faster way of assessing the plan, checking ship dispositions and even the general strategy than relying on face to face communications. It was even more useful by the fact that the number of ships was so great.
“I have four destroyers and a large contingent of survivors from the Olympia, at least seven hundred fighters with more on the destroyers.”
Topoteretes Pleistoanax looked shocked at the news.
“Seven hundred?” he asked rhetorically. “Well, form up behind gamma wing. You will form part of the reserve in sector eleven, understood?”
Dukas Xenias glanced at the tactical screen that now featured a full battle overlay, including ship dispositions and orders. Sector eleven was out on the flank but also where a number of heavy warships were mobilising.
“Understood, Topoteretes, we shall await your orders.”
The video feed vanished and was replaced with a large image of the ships that were now facing off for battle. He could easily see the shapes of the three Titans in the Terran fleet, but what of the enemy? It looked like they were also equipped with a larger number of heavier ships, and some almost two-thirds the size of a Titan. He tried counting the number of half a kilometre long Elamite battleships but gave up as the number grew into double digits. He looked over to the plan and scanned through the possible scenarios.
Interesting! So our military genius Clearchus is planning on extending our lines and then feinting withdrawal of the Titians towards our position. What is the next phase?
He didn’t have time to consider the next move though as every single display in the ship suddenly lit up.
“Dukas, it has begun!” shouted out Kybernetes Manus
Laconian Titan ‘Valediction’, Khorram shipyards
The Titan shook ever so slightly from the initial barrage of weapons fire from the Median skirmishers. Almost fifty small vessels, each not much larger than a handful of dromons welded together, had been thrown at the Legion; it wasn’t an attack in any kind of number. It was simply designed to force him to respond.
I see, he thought. So he’s worried I will not fight him. Perhaps his position is weaker than I assumed, and he needs a quick victory.
Cyrus examined the display himself before rubbing his brow.
“It is as I expected, my brother will be concerned that the regional satraps may see this as an opportunity. If they think for a moment that he is anything but a powerful Emperor, they will split from Median control. He has to win a decisive victory that implies we do not concern him.”
Then why rush to attack him? Cyrus thought wryly.
On the main screen a cloud of projectiles, beams and plasma bolts exchanged between the heavy Terran ships and the skirmishers. Though some shields were beaten back, it was clear the attack was having little effect on the fleet. Clearchus checked once more on the dispositions and gave the order every single officer had been waiting for. He drew a slightly curbed kopis blade from its sheath on his belt. The weapon was an ancient one, and over a thousand years old his father had told him. It curved in the opposite way to a sabre so that the point angled forwards instead of back. The hilt was gold in colour and beautifully detailed with a relief of an unknown battle pitting Laconians and monsters in battle. He rested the sharp edge in the palm of his hand and pulled it quickly. The ancient blade cut a small wound into his hand that bled almost instantly on the floor. Several of the officers on the deck spotted him and watched in surprise at the ancient but famous blood oath carried out by only the oldest and noblest of the Laconian families. As the blood dripped, he pulled a cloth from his tunic and tied it around his hand while lifting it and tapping his head. Nobody else could hear him, but he clearly said something to himself, probably a prayer, and then with a quick wipe the blade was clean and returned to its sheath. He looked to the tactical screen and gave the order they were waiting for.
“Forward units advance and engage selected targets!” he ordered.
Almost immediately, a dull rumble could be felt through the mighty Titan as the engines built up to combat speed. It was subtle, but everybody on board, from the crewman to every stratiotes and spatharii, knew what was coming next.
“Fighter and bomber squadrons maintain position around the capital ships. Protect them. Do not pursue the enemy under any circumstances.”
Clearchus knew only too well the stories of the Median forces using feigned withdrawals to lure in ships. He was going to put into practice the tactics he and his comrades had practiced for the old enemy. The tall and wide formation of Terran ships advanced quickly towards the similar formation of Medes ships that were now drawn up to fight. Behind the Medes line were the scores of platforms, stations and shipyards, each looking static and harmless, but he was falling for none of it. Clearchus had no doubt the Emperor intended on withdrawing soon so that his pursuing Terran ships would smash through their rearguard and then be dashed on the substantial defences. The stations would be equipped with hundreds of fighter-bombers, missiles and beam weapons, possibly even enough to match half of the Terran fleet on their own. The image of Topoteretes Pleistoanax appeared on his communications display and drew him away briefly from the tactical display.
“Strategos, the Dukas Xenias has just arrived along with a small portion of his forces. I have placed them on the right flank, ready for the final phase of the attack. They have almost a thousand warriors still with them.”
He felt a brief surge of happiness that his old
rival from Arcadia was back, but it grieved him to realise so few had made it. He wanted to know more but knew he had no time for such pleasantries. There were hundreds of ships, thousands of warriors and tens of thousands of crew depending on him.
“Thousand? What have they been doing? Well, good work, pass on the plans to them,” he said and then returned to the tactical display, watching the opening phase of the battle. The massive numbers of capital ships were almost in range of each other, and he knew from experience what would happen next.
Today will be a bloody day, he thought solemnly, but the thought of such an event brought a grim smile to his face. Let us ensure it is a glorious one.
The first line of Terran ships was made up of a mixture of the old heavy warships, many of which dated back nearly a hundred years. Sixteen battleships in total, with double that number of destroyers, mixed in for defence operations. It was a force designed for just one thing, to close with the enemy and engage them at close range. They had the armour, shielding and firepower to stand up in battle for a long time. Behind then followed the second wave of five battlecruisers and six heavy cruisers, ships that were slightly lighter armoured but faster. It was a small number, and mainly there to fill gaps in the front ranks if needed. What did make a difference was that the Titans Poseidon and Valediction were in the centre of this formation. The actual mobile reserve consisted of the Titan Herakles, as well as the light cruisers and the remainder of the destroyers. It was a powerful reserve, especially with the firepower of a Titan to back it up. Unlike the other Titians, the Heracles had been constructed to a very different specification. She was equipped with less armour but substantially more powerful engines and closer ranged weapons. The design made her less suited to the frontline, but she was the perfect reserve; fast and deadly.
Cyrus finished speaking with one of his recently arrived aides and looked back to the map with Clearchus and pointed to the force. It was clear to him the one thing the formation lacked was depth, but that was the plan and Cyrus was intrigued to see exactly what the old Laconian General had planned.
Black Legion: 02 - Assault on Khorram Page 20
