Of the fallen warriors, all but three lifted themselves from the floor. Even Roxana appeared unharmed, the heavy spatharii armour having absorbed all but the smallest amount of thermal energy.
“You’re unhurt?” asked an almost tearful Tamara.
Roxana smiled grimly.
“I wouldn’t say unhurt, but I’ll live.”
Julius helped the wounded to their feet and moved over to Xenophon.
“Good work there. We’ve sealed the breaches, and we’ve got fighter cover now. Leave two men with the Dukas, and meet me down on the deck with anyone that can fight. I’ll explain when you get there.”
CHAPTER TWELVE
Strategos Clearchus watched with a tingle of dread as the frontline of the Terran fleet became completely enveloped by the Medes. The battle had now turned from a tactical game of cat and mouse to a massive brawl. Cruisers and battleships closed to use their most powerful weapons, and scores of hulks drifted uncontrollably throughout Khorram. The battle had now been raging for ninety minutes, and casualties on both sides were starting to mount up. Even so, with the confusion in the battle, not one Terran ship had moved any closer to the station or shipyards. Tactical Officer Jeane Coxand shook her head as another Terran destroyer was ripped apart by a heavy volley of laser cutters from the Medes flagship.
“Strategos, we’ve lost almost twenty destroyers so far, and over half of them are down to their flagship.”
Clearchus nodded. He was acutely aware of the danger posed by the flagship. He was also perfectly aware of the number of heavy Elamite battleships stationed around it. It represented the heart and core of the entire enemy force and would be a very tough nut to crack; the amount of red being shown on his tactical map was becoming a little disconcerting.
“What are the losses so far?” he asked, almost dreading to hear the words.
“Two battleships, one battlecruiser, two heavy cruisers and seventeen destroyers have been lost or are out of action. Twenty-three ships from our total of one hundred and one ships, Strategos. The damaged ships are falling back to the transports to assist in their defence.”
Twenty-three ships! The figure struck him like a knife to the heart. Even the smallest of those vessels carried crew in their hundreds. For a brief moment, he considered withdrawing the fleet, but he knew those numbers were not entirely accurate.
“What about our friend Ariaeus?”
Tactical Officer Coxand was fast, it took less than five seconds for her to bring up the full details for his forces.
“Slightly heavier for him, a quarter of his ships have been crippled so far, but he is holding the flank. His reserves have arrived from their foraging operation and that is rebuilding his fleet.”
About damned time!
Ariaeus actually commanded a fleet of nearly two hundred ships, but many had disappeared during the fighting at Aronton. Ariaeus had assured him they were away gathering more troops and supplies, but he was a Medes noble, and that meant he could not be trusted.
“Get him to move in his additional forces to put pressure on the left. I don’t want him to pursue, just overwhelm their line so that they are forced to put in all their reserves.”
She nodded and turned to her screen to pass on the information and orders. Clearchus returned to his small group of advisors as well as the very agitated looking Cyrus.
“Well, are we winning?” he asked impatiently.
“Winning? Well, we are progressing. War is no quick thing, as you know. I could try and rush this, but we have a plan, and it must be carried through.”
Cyrus shook his head in irritation.
“Perhaps you might share this plan?” he asked, almost pleading with his face.
Clearchus smiled back.
“No, the plan is not to be shared. You pay me to run this battle, and run it I will.”
“But the Legion is taking casualties in this attritional battle. At this rate, even if we win, we’ll be left with a shadow of a fleet.”
“Perhaps, you’ll leave that to me, yes?” replied Clearchus in a stern tone that surprised Cyrus.
Kentarchos Broge Monsimm shouted to the officers on the deck as the mighty Titan finished a long series of manoeuvres that brought her face to face with the first defensive line in the middle of the Median fleet. It contained eight Elamite battleships, the second largest ships in the Medes arsenal and more than a match for even a Terran battleship. Clearchus watched with pleasure as dozens of high power laser cutters burned into the enemy ships. Each impact cut chunks of armour and superstructure from the huge vessels. Terran destroyers and battleships swarmed around them and thousands of plasma cannon projectiles and railguns battered away.
It almost looks beautiful, he thought.
The image of Kleandridas appeared from aboard his personal battleship. Both of his deputies were currently on their own warships. It allowed him to split the risk if one of the senior commanders was killed and also allowed them to exercise individual control and judgement over their parts of the battle.
“Strategos, I have sustained minor losses and have withdrawn the damaged ships as requested.”
Clearchus nodded at the news.
“Good work, so it looks as though our frontline is starting to crumble under the weight of their numbers. How much longer do you think until it is time?”
“I received information from our scout destroyers. They have picked up signals three parsecs away, and there are more ships coming, but they cannot say how many.”
“I see. Keep fighting, when they are fully engaged we will start phase three. We cannot begin until I know all of their forces are fully committed. Perhaps release another battleship from the line, and really let them feel we are breaking.”
Kleandridas nodded and moved from the display to continue his efforts. Clearchus had only spoken with his deputies and the other Dukas present about his plan. He would not chance sharing the information with the Medes, not even Cyrus himself. It was a risky strategy he had no doubt, but they were behind enemy lines and certainly outnumbered. He had to have the enemy pinned before he could deliver his mortal blow. One thing he knew about Medes fleets was that they could melt away at any sign of danger. Cyrus would have had him charge headlong into a short, bloody battle. He needed to let Artaxerxes feel he could win. It was a battle of ego and wits as much as it was about warships and skill.
Indicators on the screen showed the arrival of the rest of Ariaeus’ forces. As ordered, they were moving in to reinforce the left flank. Not far behind were the mixed Medes and Terran transports, along with a sizeable number of damaged Terran warships. He smiled at the thought of those ships waiting patiently behind Ariaeus.
A perfect incentive to not stab me in the back.
He looked back to the efficient crew of Valediction. The commander of the ship and his executive officer were continually engaged with their crew. Weapons and shields were being well managed, and the tactical officer was keeping a tight pattern of air defence fighters around them. He felt safe, but more than anything he wanted to get involved. He reached down and grasped the hilt of his kopis sword, imagining the final phase of the battle. It sent a surge of excitement through his veins.
“Strategos, Medes reinforcements, another sixty-three ships, all heading for the centre of the line! They will be in position in less than a minute,” cried Kybernetes Ditha Artell.
Good, about time!
“Put me through to the fleet,” ordered Clearchus. “It is time to start phase three.”
Cyrus looked at him and prayed that whatever this phase was all about, it would mark the end of the bloody affair, once and for all. Clearchus looked about at the people around him and nodded with a look of pride and satisfaction on his face.
“Men and women of the Legion, you have fought long and you have fought hard in this battle. It has now come for that time, the high watermark that will define this day. It is my intention that in the next thirty minutes we will see the defeat of this fleet, so at your
posts, and fight harder than you’ve ever fought before. With the death of the Emperor, comes fame, fortune and the retirement you could only dream of!”
He paused for a few seconds before adding, “To victory!”
* * *
Xenophon and his friends waited along with nearly sixty other warriors in the landing area. This part of Vendetta had been cleared in the last thirty minutes to give enough space for the warriors to assemble. Half of them were fully armoured, and the rest were equipped with whatever they had been able to find. At another three points on the ship, the other groups of warriors were doing exactly the same. Dekarchos Julius spotted his arrival and marched over, grasping Xenophon and pulling him close.
“Good work, my friend. I’m sorry so many made it through, but they were able to create three breaches before we could hold them back.”
He stepped back and shook the hands of Glaucon, Tamara and Roxana but just looked at Artemas, still unsure exactly how to deal with her. Glaucon checked the magazine on the pulse-cannon he was still carrying and then spoke firmly.
“Why are we all waiting down here? Are we boarding one of the stations?” he asked.
Julius simply smiled but said nothing. Their attention was already diverted to the arrival of the Dukas and a dozen more heavily armoured spatharii. As he entered the landing bay, a volley of projectile slammed into the shielding. The sound rattled through the innards of the ship, but there appeared to be no obvious damage. The Dukas lifted his carbine high and grinned at the assembled men and women.
“I have just received word from the Strategos. The third and final phase of this bloody battle has begun. You may not be aware, but our forces have been guarding the right flank in the reserve line. We have been joined by all the remaining heavy and light cruisers, as well as Titan Herakles, and are withdrawing from the battle.”
A great cry of discontent and bitterness erupted, and for the briefest of moments it looked as though the warriors would revolt on the spot. Xenias lifted his carbine once more to get their attention.
“You know the Strategos better than that. You know me better than that. Do you think you would all be waiting here in full battle attire if we were going to just withdraw?”
“We are not abandoning Clearchus and the Legion?” asked a young red-haired woman. She wore just the body armour of the spatharii and was scarred down the left side of her face. She carried on her shoulder a tired looking Arcadian Doru Mk II Rifle, presumably a weapon taken during the evacuation of the Olympia.
The Dukas looked down to her and nodded.
“Pentarchos Hughes, is it not?”
The woman nodded reverently, evidently pleased at being recognised.
“Your unit defended against the first wave of Medes troops on Olympia, if I am not mistaken? How many of you made it off the Titan?”
The Pentarchos looked crestfallen at the reminder of the defeat on the Olympia. Only the sound of plasma charges burning into one of the upper decks seemed to snap her out of her morass. She looked back to the Dukas and noticed almost every other warrior in the room was watching her.
“Just me, Sir, the rest were killed during the retreat.”
Dukas Xenias nodded solemnly, and the rest of the warriors stayed silent at the comments. It wasn’t so much her individual loss; it was a reminder to all of them of how many had been left behind during the betrayal of Tissaphernes. He lifted his carbine for the last time.
“You will have your revenge, all of you. The smallest of the cruisers have a special operation to carry out in this stage of the battle. As I’m sure most of you will know, the shields of the Medes, in fact the shields of all capital ships are designed to respond to ultra high velocity or high thermal energy weapons. The more powerful the weapon, the better the shielding works, providing the generators can keep up. This is why we use continuous shield bombardment to overload the generators. The Medes flagship, known to us as the Rashnu, is out there, just four kilometres away now, and her shielding is even thicker than that of our Titians. The only way through is to not use excessive energy, but to close in and board her.”
The mood of the landing bay transformed at the news they might be involved in an action aboard the enemy flagship. They had no time to cheer though as the Dukas continued his speech.
“...she is named after the Ancient Medes’ divine angel of justice and last judgement, and the personification of righteousness. These barbarians believe Rashnu guards an ancient bridge leading to heaven where he weighs the souls at Judgement. We will explain to them today that Rashnu is no angel, just a hulk of metal that we will turn into a bar!”
The ship reverberated from more impacts, but they seemed to be hitting the rear of the vessel, indicating they were indeed moving away. A small fire started near one of the emergency doors, but a crewman put it out quickly.
“Now, I suggest all of you that pray, do so now. This is no minor assault I speak of, and it will be a first. As I speak, this entire flank is withdrawing, and we are taking a large part of their flank with us. When Clearchus gives the signal, we will reverse course and smash into the heart of their forces. We will not be pulling alongside her, no, sir! We will drive the bow of this mighty ship directly into her flanks. With the mass of this ship, and any other cruisers that can make the charge, we will smash her shields, drive into her landing bays and take her by force!”
Now he was answered by an approving roar. Xenophon looked to his friends and noticed even the jovial Julius seemed a little surprised at the plan. The rest continued cheering, but Roxana and Glaucon looked particularly worried. Roxana leaned towards him and shouted so that he might hear her.
“Ramming a battleship? Won’t we just breach our own armour and explosively decompress?”
Xenophon scratched his chin and looked to Glaucon and Julius, both of whom had stepped in closer.
“If we do this, we’ll lose Vendetta. This is a one way trip, you know that, right?” asked Julius.
Glaucon shook his head disapprovingly.
“I don’t like this, not at all!”
“Wait!” Xenias called out with one hand over his left ear. The crowd quietened down as they waited, each expecting to hear that the battle was over, that they had won or a deal had been brokered. Instead, he lowered his arm and grinned, the widest grin any of them had probably ever seen.
“Now, we go! Check your weapons, the attack on the Rashnu has begun! We have the honour of leading the attack.”
The roar of excitement was contagious, and even the recently dour-looking Tamara seemed to be caught up in the mood. There was little for the warriors to actually do as they waited, although if they could have seen what was happening outside, they might have preferred to stay deeper inside the ship.
The Titan Herakles had performed a complete direction shift and doubled back towards the gap created in the Medes line. It wouldn’t be there for long, and the fast Titan and her formation of heavy and light cruisers accelerated as quickly as they dared. They made it halfway before their plan was realised and the pursuing Medes ships changed course to pursue them, but by then it was too late. Herakles used all her power to keep her shields at full strength until within a kilometre of the enemy flagship. At this point blank range, it almost looked like the Titan would smash into the Rashnu, but at the last moment her engine erupted and slowed the ship until they were only a short distance away.
Flash after flash indicated the heavy weapons being blasted into them both and gave the impression the two great beasts were lashed together in some kind of mortal death grip. The cruisers moved in under the cover of the Titan’s own attack and wriggled though the skirmish line of fighters, destroyers and the escorting Elamite battleships. Of the formation, only half of the eight ships made it through without being forced back. Vendetta was the only one to make it to within five hundred metres before being hit by defensive fire. The reverse engines had been burning for some time as the vast hulk of metal smashed into the lower decks of the Rashnu. The meetin
g of the two shields sent a sound like a thunderclap through the innards of Vendetta, and every man and woman was thrown by the impact. The combined speed of the impact was modest, but even that was enough to ensure not a single Terran remaining upright.
“Everybody to your feet!” shouted Xenias as his bodyguard helped him up.
One of his men passed him his carbine that he had dropped during the impact. He turned to glance at movement in the smoke and sparks towards the hull of the Rashnu.
“Prepare yourselves!” shouted one of the Dekarchos, but it was hard to see who was speaking in the confusion of the injured. Most of the Terrans lifted themselves up, but a small number stayed down, either knocked out by the collision, or hurt in some way by fallen equipment or other stumbling people. Steam blasted from dozens of ruptured pipes, and the internal alarms echoed repeatedly throughout the ship. Glaucon was up and already had Tamara on her feet before Xenophon even realised what was happening. Roxana and Artemas moved over to assist him, and he was sure that even in that brief moment he sensed hostility between them. There wasn’t time to start a boarding action. The Rashnu must have carried thousands of Median warriors, and they were already swarming through the scores of breaches inside the structure of Vendetta.
There was no warning as a group of the Medes foot soldiers rushed inside. They were lightly equipped, and some appeared to be carrying tools rather than weapons.
“Engineering detail!” called Pentarchos Hughes, and without checking with her comrades she rushed forward and struck the first with the butt of her rifle. The Medes male dropped to the floor and lifted his hands in a pleading gesture. She was already past him though the smoke. The other spatharii watched her go in astonishment, and then with a cry rushed to join her. The handful of Medes panicked, but they were cut down with blades and gunfire.
Xenias looked in pleasure at the aggression being shown and moved to the door with his carbine held low and ready. His bodyguard stepped in close beside him with two carrying the heavy shield generators. Xenophon, Julius and his comrades moved towards their leader as the sound of combat could be heard further away.
Black Legion: 02 - Assault on Khorram Page 22
