Black Legion: 02 - Assault on Khorram

by Michael G. Thomas

  “They have more ships in their front than us, so what happens if they simply extend their frontage? We cannot continue to do the same. Is it even necessary to do so with such a gap between ships?”

  Clearchus smiled but ignored him for a moment. He was too busy issuing orders via the implanted communications node. The warships were seconds away from firing, and he had just a few more orders to issue.

  “We are in range, weapons are free!” cried Tactical Officer Coxand, her voice barely able to contain her excitement and apprehension. The virtual observation system transformed into a kaleidoscope of colour as dozens of capital ships opened fire with heavy cutters, pulse cannons and missiles. For the briefest of moments, the entire command deck watched in awe as enough firepower to level cities was brought to bear on the two sides. It was just a second though, no more, and then the crew were at their posts and managing their own small parts of the battle.

  “Our frontline is engaged. Battleships are cutting through the Median destroyer wings and advancing,” explained Tactical Officer Coxand.

  Cyrus watched the battle unfold like a game of chess between two grandmasters with a feeling of dread in his belly. He had always known it would come down to a stand-up fight, but now that the day had come, he wondered deep down if his hired soldiers would match and defeat the elite Imperial Navy of the Emperor.

  The faces of the dozen most senior commanders ran along the higher parts of the displays, each of them commanding a division of the fleet. Topoteretes Kleandridas signalled for the attention of the Strategos.

  “Yes?” barked Clearchus sharply.

  “An additional wave of thirty-eight cruisers and destroyers has just arrived. They were sheltering in the cover of the shipyards. They are deploying on the right flank of the Median line and extending it by almost twenty kilometres. Should I transfer our reserve to match them?”

  Clearchus looked at the display and spotted the formation of smaller capital ships streaming to extend the line. He knew immediately what the enemy planned on doing and allowed himself a nod of satisfaction.

  They mean to envelope me, surround our fleet and destroy us from the outside.

  “No, Kleandridas, keep moving forward. I need the entire battlefront fully engaged before we continue to the next phase of the battle. I will direct our allies to match their forces.”

  “Ariaeus?” asked Kleandridas in surprise.

  “Yes, he can send half his force to engage them. Would you rather he stayed to our rear?”

  The implied insult made the deputy commander chortle before he saluted and returned to his duties. Clearchus tapped the image of the Medes commander and the face of Ariaeus enlarged. He nodded politely.

  “Strategos Clearchus, my forces are ready for their part in this battle,” he stated clearly, but his tone suggests he expected the exact opposite.

  “The enemy have mobilised a reserve of nearly forty ships against my left flank. Deploy your primary combat forces to match them.”

  Ariaeus looked confused.

  “Is there a problem?” asked Clearchus.

  “Uh, no, Strategos, except my ships are guarding the troops transports.”

  Clearchus shook his head at him.

  “If we lose this battle, then your precious transports will be smashed to dust. Leave ten ships to protect them. I have already dispatched eight fighter squadrons to their defence. Send your remaining forty-one warships to the front, and keep them busy. Do not let them break through our line. Understood?”

  Ariaeus nodded, but the pained expression on his face told Clearchus all that he needed to know. Unlike the Terran commanders, this Medes looked as though he was an observer, a man along to watch the battle, but to involve himself?

  That wretched Medes wants the glory, and he wants the wealth, but does he want to dirty his hands doing it? I think not!

  “Good, now to your men. It is your responsibility to defend the left flank. If you need more ships, then divert your heavy war transports to assist. Keep the conscripted civilian transports in the rear.”

  He cut off the communication and looked back to his command deck. Though he was in charge of the running of the battle, he wasn’t required to assist in the actual running of the ship. Kentarchos Broge Monsimm was managing the thousands of crew with the skill and experience only a veteran Laconian would posses. He looked about him, the virtual observation unit doing a perfect job of making him feel as if he were floating outside in space. Dozens of bright streams of energy burned away from the Valediction at the nearest Elamite battleship. Each impact left bright flashes as the beams burnt slowly through the layers of shielding, much like the layers of an onion. No sooner was a shield penetrated than another generator would try and seal the gap.

  We must take our time, combat requires patience. He reminded himself.

  * * *

  From the displays on Vendetta, it was clear the battle was now underway. The sixteen Terran battleships were heavily engaged at a distance of just a few kilometres from the opposing Elamite battleships. They were almost outnumbered two to one, and yet the broadsides continued. The opening part of the battle had occurred almost an hour earlier and so far two Elamites had been reduced to hulks. Another dozen destroyers had also been destroyed plus a handful of the Terran escorts. Xenophon and the other spatharii waited patiently on the ship, waiting for something to do. A bright flash caught his attention on the main screen.

  “No! That’s the Relentless, she’s burning up!” cried one of the junior tactical officers. He looked to his commander. “Shouldn’t we offer assistance?”

  He was answered by a bright blue and green flash, followed by the terrible sight of the battlecruiser being torn into four massive chunks of burnt metal. An audible gasp could be heard on the deck as the crew watched a ship containing a good many comrades be torn apart. Xenophon tried to remember if he knew any of the crew from the Relentless and thanked the Gods that he couldn’t. He looked down and checked his weapons once more. The added armour of the spatharii was odd, and far more cumbersome than what he was used to. The one benefit was that he was now much better protected and carried more ammunition and weapons than at any time previously. He felt safe, just as long as nothing happened to Vendetta.

  “Dekarchos Xenophon?” came the voice of Julius, his commanding officer.

  “Sir?” he replied.

  There was a short pause before Julius continued.

  “We are getting reports of boarding parties using empty pods and close range shield burners. Three made it through the shields of Valediction before being intercepted by spatharii. Make sure you’re ready.”

  “Sir!” he replied though the communications node.

  Why do they persist in boarding a Laconian Titan? It is probably better protected than any of ship in the history of space warfare, he thought.

  Minutes ticked by, and the Medes ships became even more intermingled in the frontlines of the Terran formation. Those vessels with heavier shielding and better weapons were starting to take advantage of the weaker vessels. It was only a matter of time before one ship after another would start to fall to the continuous volleys of weapons fire. He glanced over to his right to see Artemas and Roxana discussing the battle on one of the main screens off to the side. The other spatharii were located in three small groups throughout the command deck. He had tried to place them so as not to get in the way of the management of the ship. Even so, the space was looking very cramped. The emergency alarms sounded, much to the surprise of the crew.

  “Incoming attack, brace for impact!” called out Kybernetes Manus.

  Xenophon didn’t see the attack, but the impacts were substantial. The entire ship rattled violently as over a hundred projectiles smashed into her starboard flank. Alarms blared through the deck. One of the panels blew off the wall and knocked a crewman to the floor, dripping blood. The acting Tactical Officer shouted over the din of the impacts.

  “Shields are down on the starboard side. Boarding projectil
es have breached our hull!”

  Glaucon looked to Xenophon while grasping the hilt of his carbine. Like Xenophon, he was also carrying extra blades and lots of ammunition. They were ready, and all they needed was a foe to fight. The beep of his node alerted him to Julius.

  “Xenophon, we have assault drones onboard. My teams have taken out seven, but we’ve been pinned down by another group. I count five more on their way to you. Do not let them in. I have a team on its way in six minutes! I repeat do not...”

  The sound of gunfire on the device drowned out the sound of his voice before going silent.

  “Kentarchos!” he called out to the acting commander of the ship. Kybernetes Manus looked at him briefly, his attention more on the displays than on the group of spatharii in his command area.

  “What is it?” he snapped.

  “We have combat drones on board, and they are coming here.”

  He looked back to his computer systems and continued issuing orders to the men and women on the ship. He called out to Xenophon.

  “So? Deal with them, Dekarchos. I have a battle to fight here!”

  Xenophon moved to Artemas and Roxana who waited patiently to be given the news. Glaucon spotted the movement and leaned in to listen.

  “We’ve got trouble. We need to watch the access points to the command deck, come on!” he said and headed for the door. Glaucon waved his fist to the other spatharii who quickly followed them out of the room and into the corridor. On arriving, Xenophon was reminded of the zero gravity fight they had fought not that long ago in the exact same place.

  “They are battle drones, and that means armour and firepower. Who has the shield generators?” he asked.

  Two of the men leant to him by Julius stepped forward with the units strapped to their backs and ready for use. Unlike the Laconians, only a small number in each unit carried the shield due to the weight and energy requirements used by the devices. Only the Laconians with their intense training, strict physical regime and more advanced shielding technology, could ever hope to have one per warrior. Xenophon looked at the shields and checked that the rest of the unit was there.

  “There are two ways into this corridor. I want a shield here and one over there!” he said, pointing to the two places that would block access to the rest of the corridor.

  “Don’t forget the hatch access to the rooms there,” said Artemas with her hand extended. She was pointing to the place they had used to reach the command deck unnoticed the last time around.

  “You think they might use it?” asked Glaucon.

  Tamara was already at the door and checking inside. She moved back and poked her head out of the door.

  “Well, you did, didn’t you? Any of you have a spare grenade?” she asked.

  One of the new spatharii threw a grenade to her, and she quickly disappeared.

  “What is she doing?” asked Roxana.

  “What do you think?” replied Xenophon, “Making a booby trap I would guess, knowing her.”

  He looked back to the corridor and almost kicked himself for not taking precautions to make the place more defendable. He had assumed if anybody came aboard he would need to take the fight to them. The idea that the Medes would use battle robots to board ships was not something he had ever considered. The more he thought about it now, the more it made sense. They were impervious to g-forces and acceleration, plus they needed no oxygen or atmosphere to work in.

  The perfect boarding troops, he considered, and for a second was actually impressed with their plan.

  “Everybody, get into cover and get those shields up. Do not let them get past you. Glaucon, take two and wait inside the command deck. If any do get past us, you will finish them off, understood?”

  Glaucon nodded and selected the two largest and angriest looking spatharii to go with him. They moved inside and shut the wide double door behind them. Xenophon pulled his blade from his belt and held it in his left hand. It felt heavy and was noticeably top heavy. His attention was drawn not to the weapon though; it was the steady clunk of metal feet and a series of screams.

  “It’s them, get ready!” he shouted and then noticed that Artemas was with them and carrying a carbine ready for combat.

  “You shouldn’t be here. Wait in there with Glaucon!” he ordered.

  Artemas shook her head slowly.

  “No, Xenophon, that isn’t how it works. Just watch your back, and I’ll watch mine.”

  As she spoke, she pulled her long blade from beneath her clothing. Xenophon recognised it as the weapon she had placed before him the first time they had met. She looked back to see him watching and smiled, ever so briefly. They were interrupted by two men who ran right around the corner and towards where the spatharii were waiting patiently. With a flash, the shields activated and put up two thin shields at each end of the short hall area.

  “Get down!” shouted Xenophon, yet the two men kept running.

  From the same place turned a monster of a combat drone. This one was unlike any Xenophon had seen before. It was short, barely over a metre in height and equipped with at least six fast moving legs. There was no discernible head. It was just a metal shape with arms and legs covered in sharp edges and a number of close range weapons. A cloud of metal darts flew silently from its body, and then it surged towards them. The spatharii were all using every millimetre of cover the ribbed bulkhead offered, but it was too little and too late for the two men still running. Both were hit by the volley and collapsed, crying out in agony as they lay dying in pools of their own blood.

  The shields deflected the rest away from the three spatharii covering the route to the command deck on the same side as the machine. With an artificial scream, the thing clambered forward like some possessed metal demon.

  “Now!” screamed Xenophon, and from out of the cover emerged the group. Each took careful aim and blasted the machine with their pulse carbines. The armour piercing projectiles struck it, but the rounds deflected from its body. Only those hitting the limbs seemed to create any kind of damage.

  “That thing is shielded!” shouted one of the men nearest the machine before it reached him, striking him in the chest with one of its sharpened arms. The weapon easily penetrated his stomach armour and embedded itself so far that it punched back out of his back. Xenophon and Roxana moved from their cover and blasted away until both of their magazines ran dry. Only the continuous impact of the pulse rounds seemed to hold it back. The door to the command deck opened to reveal Glaucon who was carrying a pulse-cannon, one of the heavier weapons used by the Terran troops. It was massive overkill for ship defence, but right then it seemed perfect.

  “The legs!” shouted Artemas as she ducked to avoid another flicker of six metal darts.

  Glaucon needed no encouragement and holding the weapon at his hip, pulled the trigger. The weapon roared as it released scores of large calibre pulse rounds. Each one was capable of removing a limb or taking off a man’s head. He sawed through the machine’s legs until nothing but the rattling stump remained. He stopped and grinned, but their short lived moment of triumph was spoilt by the arrival of Tamara; who until now had been busy inside the small room previously used as a brig. She stepped into the corridor and was followed by a massive blast that threw her to the ground. One of the spatharii picked her up and helped drag her to cover. It was perfect timing, as from around the end of the corridor, another two machines entered. This time they were the more familiar bipedal models. Of a similar size to a Terran male, they carried carbines instead of arms, and blasted away at them in the corridor. Roxana was struck in the chest and flew to the ground under the impact.

  “Stop them!” shouted Tamara from her position to the side and simultaneously drew her pistol and fired at the nearest.

  “Behind us, three more!” called out another of the spatharii before being struck by the combined firepower of all three drones. In just a few seconds, four of them were down, including Roxana. All were moving, but it was hard to assess their injuries. Gl
aucon spun around, the massive pulse-cannon still hanging low to his hip.

  “Get down!” he roared. The muzzle flash lit the corridor as he emptied the weapon, the round shredding the three machines as a stray round clipped his leg and sent him crashing to the floor. Just two more of the bipedal models were left. They surged passed the fallen spatharii and their shield generators and made for the door, not even bothering to face the handful of fighters remaining.

  Xenophon ran at the first and slammed the edge of his blade into the right carbine arm. The deadly monofilament blade cut into the device and with a series of flashes and sparks rendered it useless. In his right arm was his carbine, and lifting it quickly, he fired away with what was left of the ammunition. Only a dozen rounds fired before the damaged machine struck him in the head. The heavy impact sent him straight to the floor. Artemas and Tamara kept low and fired away with their weapons, bringing the damaged machine to the floor in a heap of sparking chunks of metal. It was too late though, and the final undamaged drone stepped passed him and to the door. Artemas jumped from cover, but with a crash the thing was inside the door and stepping into the command deck.

  A massive blast forced them back, with Artemas rolling on the floor and Tamara slamming to the wall. Xenophon dragged himself to them, lifted to one knee and looked for a weapon, any weapon that he might use. Smoke started to clear from the doorway, and the hulk of the metal monster tipped backwards and fell to the ground, revealing the bulky shape of Dukas Xenias. In his hands he carried what looked like a large bore carbine but with two barrels. Smoke wafted from its muzzle, and on his face was the look of both anger and satisfaction.

  Xenophon heard movement and twisted around only to see the arrival of Dekarchos Julius and a dozen of his heavily armoured spatharii. He ran passed the fallen warriors and to the door where the Dukas was still stood.

  “Julius, you are not needed here. The Dekarchos has done his job,” he stated and turned back to where the rest of the crew were still running the ship.