He pointed to the wall, but nothing appeared. He looked about until he spotted two technicians who were rushing to set up a device.
“Whenever you’re ready,” he said impatiently.
Luckily for them, the device flicked on, displaying a three-dimensional model of the area of space around the Median Empire. The hundreds of worlds were impressive, especially when compared to the modest number of Terran worlds arrayed against it.
“Now, if you look here, you will note that there are people in our galaxy other than our two peoples. The Median Empire itself is a confederation of hundreds of races, yet their core systems are inhabited by the Medes themselves. The Core Worlds are secured and guarded by the elite troops of the Emperor himself. The worlds outside of Medes control are something else, however.”
He pointed to a section of the map near the border of the Empire. It zoomed in to show the planets in detail.
“This part to the top of the map is one of the most sparsely populated but richest parts of the Empire. A regional governor called Tissaphernes controls it. The Medians call these leaders Satraps, and they exercise full control over their territories. This region in particular has come under a number of attacks in the last few months. So far, their military has been able to hold off most of them. That was until the capital was virus bombed three months ago. Most of Tissaphernes’ troops were killed, and they have been fighting a holding action ever since.”
He pulled back on the map to show other areas of the Empire.
“Other Satraps are experiencing similar problems, especially with the newer, more aggressive races here, and here. One in particular, the reptilian Mulacs have been attacking almost continually. Their empire has never been explored by either the Medes or us. We do know they are able to strike with scores of raiding parties, each containing thousands of warriors. These are our primary targets for this campaign.”
He paused for a moment, letting the news of the enemy, the target and their operation sink in. He was well aware that many of the mercenaries would have been expecting, potentially hoping, for an easy ride through this fight. He nodded to the two technicians who proceeded to bring up a model of the Median Lord Cyrus himself before adding one last comment.
“Lord Cyrus and Strategos Clearchus have received new intelligence, and I will let them explain it to you directly.”
He moved to the side, but not before making the map zoom out slightly to show more of the area of space they would be campaigning in. He ensured that one area in particular was centred. It was an area of space where the Median worlds extended, with one sticking out like a spearpoint directed towards the Terran worlds. The frozen image of Cyrus flickered and then burst into life. He wore the same clothing as the rest of the Ten Thousand, but there were minor alterations including insignia, headgear and a sash.
“Greetings from the Median Empire to all members of the Ten Thousand. You are the best-trained, equipped and motivated military force seen in this region of space for a hundred years. It was my intention to move through my Empire’s lands, so that we might collect additional forces on our way to the border regions. Our Satraps in these areas are suffering greatly at the hands of pirates and raiders. This will have to wait, however, due to an unforeseen crisis. You will note that on the display is a system known as the Cilician Gates. Some of you may be familiar with it. This area is the closest Imperial system to any Terran world. It is also the first point in a series of jumps that can take us to throughout my Empire. Whoever controls this area of space, also controls the gateway into my Empire. A few hours ago, a massive invasion force of Mulac raiders smashed through the defences and started a full-scale ground invasion of the Cilician homeworld. We cannot proceed with our campaign if this enemy blocks the path into my Empire. They are stopping our movement but also blocking all trade and communications in and out of my lands.”
He stopped and motioned to somebody out of sight. Unlike the normal video streams, the three-dimensional transmission could only show one object and not its surroundings. He disappeared and a distortion field replaced him. Roxana pulled Xenophon and Glaucon to her, taking advantage of the lull.
“I’ve heard of this Tissaphernes. He’s a powerful warlord in his territory and definitely not on friendly terms with Lord Cyrus. There are rumours he has fired on Terran and Median ships.”
The image coalesced into the shape of Strategos Clearchus. He also wore the uniform of the Ten Thousand, but over the top were the various parts of Laconian armour that he was rarely seen without. He even wore his archaic military helmet.
“This is a serious and worrying encounter before our expedition has even started on its course. To clarify, our scout ship, the Odysseus, was destroyed in a co-ordinated attack by more than one unidentified ship. We suspect that everybody on board was killed in action or taken prisoner. That is over one hundred crew, and people that were due to travel with the fleet and take part in our grand adventure. This part of space is supposed to be heavily guarded by Median forces, but it would appear the rot of raiders and slavers has already pushed this far out into the frontier. We are being paid by Lord Cyrus and by extension, the Median Empire, to help restore their border territories and to drive out all and any hostile forces. Back home most of us would be without work, but out here we are well paid and have the potential to provide for our families and ourselves for years to come. Whether these enemies are Terran pirates, Mulac raiders, Medes rebels or even the Mycona, it makes no difference. We have been paid well to fight, and we will eliminate them all.”
Two officers entered the hall followed by four men struggling under the weight of a much older projection unit. They lowered it carefully in place and then stepped back. It wasn’t Terran technology; it had the effeminate look of Median equipment.
“Ever seen anything like that?” asked Roxana.
Xenophon simply stared at the item, enthralled by the exquisite detail along the shape of the unit. Carved figures of many different creatures ran around the lower part. General Clearchus continued his briefing. A beautifully detailed model of the planet appeared with emphasis on a large mountainous landmass. The largest mountain was covered with antenna and small towers that betrayed its design as something much more than just rock.
“Regional information has been provided by Lord Cyrus with regards to the defences and standard dispositions in this region. The main world is Cappadocia, and it is the home of the regional grand fleet plus at least one royal army. Lord Cyrus has information on at least three Mulac raiding fleets that have travelled through here in the last year, so there is a good chance this is one of them. We could bypass this region, but it will slow us down by many weeks and leave us with a hostile enemy behind us. I have therefore decided the Cilician Gates will be the first test of the Ten Thousand. We will secure this region, collect additional supplies and show Lord Cyrus we are worth every credit we are charging him.”
A quiet murmur of agreement travelled throughout the space. The General couldn’t see their reaction, however, and continued speaking.
“We leave in one hour for the Cilician Gates. Upon our arrival, we will show both the Medes and anybody that wants to try and stop us what we are capable of. This is the territory of Emperor Artaxerxes, and therefore by extension his siblings, who include Lord Cyrus. He has asked us to recover this territory, and we will do so as quickly as possible.”
Xenophon was surprised at the mention of the Median Emperor. He had only recently taken power. At least that was the rumour, since little information came from the heart of the Empire. As well as being immensely rich and powerful, the Empire was infamous for its use of agents, spies and assassins.
Are we working for Cyrus or Artaxerxes? he thought.
“We will immediately establish space supremacy in the system, and this will be provided by an advance jump by the Titans. If, as we suspect, the enemy is in the process of attacking Median colonies or outposts, we will assist by launching ground assaults against any of their camps. W
e do believe this is likely to be a Mulac operation, and it will prove a useful experience for our later campaign. Your commanders will continue your briefing.”
The image vanished, and the room fell silent. Dukas Xenias stood alone and looked out at the assembled troops. Everyone looked both eager and confused at the news. He nodded at them and smiled.
“Our previous experience suggests the Mulacs don’t rush their attacks. They use large numbers of ships and ground troops to blockade a moon, station or even an entire planet. Once secured, Mulacs then strip the site of everything they want. This includes loot, weapons and especially slaves. Assuming any of the inhabitants of Cappadocia are alive, they will have retreated to the royal fortress, the mountain Citadel, here.”
He pointed at the model the soldiers had brought in. The Citadel was gigantic, perhaps almost a kilometre tall when measured from the base. The rest of the city paled in significance to this imposing structure.
Xenophon looked to his comrades and spoke quietly.
“Look at that thing. Are they serious about attacking this place?”
“Who says anybody is there? I bet we’ll jump in and find nothing but the Median fleet wanting to know what we are doing,” answered Tamara.
Dukas Xenias pointed to a number of large industrial sites based around the Citadel.
“This is it. The lands of Tissaphernes are rich. This planet is critical to the Median Empire, and therefore to our paymaster. We will be greatly rewarded for helping to clear them of raiders. Get your gear and wait in the landing bays. I suspect we will be action as soon as we arrive at the Gates.”
He paused for a brief moment before finishing with a simple, “Good hunting.”
He turned and left, leaving the room to the assembled troops. As soon as he exited the door, a great din erupted from the scores of men and women. Glaucon shouted over the noise.
“This is it, then? We’re going to war.”
Jack beamed with excitement, and Tamara stood still, a look of dumbstruck confusion about her. Even Xenophon looked less than excited at the prospect of battle. Glaucon put his arms around the group and beamed.
“Come on, how much trouble can a few thousand Mulacs give us?”
Xenophon said nothing; he just looked directly at him and tried to remember what he knew about the Mulacs. Try as he might, he simply couldn’t find anything positive to say about them. All he could think about was the Citadel and thousands of heavily armed alien warriors.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Cilician Gates, Median Border Lands
The Titans were the first ships of the fleet to arrive. Each of the massive warships jumped into the system at key points around the main worlds. LLS Valediction and the Olympia, with their larger contingents of mercenaries, moved into position over the fortress planet of Cappadocia, the capital of this sector. Seconds behind the mighty ships followed another two-dozen warships plus scores of escorts. The planet was larger than the old human planet of Earth but from space looked similar. Three small moons circled the world, but none were inhabited. Inside the landing bay of the Olympia stood hundreds of mercenaries. All were in their matching grey uniforms and carrying a selection of weapons, shields and armour. Dozens of dromons were lined up, all waiting like a horde of angry insects. These were the standard swift gunboats used by the Terrans to move warriors into battle. At fifty-five metres long, they were slightly smaller than those used by the Laconians. At key points in the landing bay were map projectors showing the system they had arrived in.
“What’s happening?” asked Glaucon.
Dekarchos Maxentius pointed to the planet on the display.
“No intelligence yet, so we must wait. Show patience, stratiotes. When our commanders have established what is happening here, they will choose our targets and objectives. Just be ready.”
Xenophon reached out and placed his hand on his friend’s shoulder.
“Don’t worry about getting into action too quickly. There are more than enough enemies in this region. You’ve seen the reports, the same as me.”
As if to emphasise the point, the map changed to show the planet and a number of ships in orbit around it. There was at least one Median battleship a short distance away as well as dozens and dozens of unidentified vessels.
“What are they?” asked Tamara.
Roxana looked at them for a few seconds. She was by far the one amongst them with the most experience in terms of ships and naval warfare.
“I’ve seen these configurations before,” she said firmly.
Dekarchos Maxentius looked dubious.
“Really, I was an officer in the Alliance Fleet. These ships are Mulac cruisers, heavily armoured and filled with landing craft. We came across one on a routine patrol back before the Fall. One of the cruisers can carry hundreds of warriors and their gear. Trust me, if they are here, then they intend on putting ground forces somewhere.”
“Assuming they haven’t already,” added Xenophon.
As they watched the display, the Mulac ships powered up to escape. A volley of gunfire rippled along the flank of the Median battleship, but the Mulacs were already rushing away. Close behind them followed half a dozen Terran cruisers. In seconds, the orbit of Cappadocia was deserted of all but the Terran ships and the single Median warship. The Dekarchos was already on his communication unit, presumably to pass on the information from Roxana. It took only a few seconds before he lowered the unit and stepped towards her.
“Good work, stratiotes, that’s the kind of specialist knowledge we need in hostile territory like this. The Medes, the Mulacs, none of them can match the skills we have in this fleet.”
Roxana nodded politely and looked back to her comrades. She smiled, almost embarrassed at the attention. Something must have occurred to her, as her expression quickly changed.
“If these are Mulacs, they will be looking for loot and slaves. We will have to act fast to stop them.”
Dekarchos Maxentius stepped towards them and started to speak but was interrupted on his communication device. He stopped for a moment and turned to the projector unit. The map had changed to show the planet in more detail. He replied with an acknowledgement and then looked to his group.
“This is it, grab your gear. Briefing will take place on the dromon.”
From the command deck of the LLS Valediction, Strategos Clearchus and Lord Cyrus had a perfect view of the planet below. The Virtual Observation System could confuse an unwary officer into feeling they were actually outside the ship, if only for the briefest of moments. The other planets in the system were much too small to be seen this way, as they were hundreds of thousands of kilometres away. Below their feet moved a swarm of dromons blasting away from the ships and making their way down to the surface. As each craft entered the atmosphere, it created what looked like a fireball that transformed into a smoke trail down to the surface. Smaller escort fighters followed them down, each craft bearing the double stripes of the expedition. It was an impressive sight, even to an old veteran like Clearchus. His attention wasn’t on the ships making their way to the surface. It was to the wretched weasel of a man on the main screen.
“Thank you for your assistance,” said a smooth, almost silky voice.
Clearchus looked at the image of the governor of this area with distaste. Satrap Tissaphernes was everything that he despised about the Medians. He was thin, much too thin, and had the soft skin of a man that had never needed to do a thing for himself.
“We’re glad to be of assistance,” answered Lord Cyrus. He looked to the Strategos before continuing his conversation. The look he gave the General was an odd one, as if he was telling him that the Satrap was not telling the truth. Either that, or he was feeling constipated.
“You estimate that around five to ten thousand Mulacs have landed and are in the process of assaulting the outer walls of your fortress island?” he asked.
Before the Median governor could answer, Clearchus spoke, doing little to hide the disgust in his voice.
“Satrap Tissaphernes. We have already scattered the small number of Mulac vessels. Our escorts are in pursuit. What I do not understand is this fortress of yours. It has the capacity to hold over ten thousand warriors plus a hundred times that number of civilians. How can such a small number of Mulacs be causing so much trouble?”
Tissaphernes smiled with the kind of suave look that made a Laconian warrior like Clearchus burn with irritation. He looked to Cyrus, ignoring the Terran soldier.
“Lord Cyrus. As you know, my local forces are engaged in a long and drawn out war on the frontier. We are making headway against the Lydian pirates, but they have enlisted the help of Mulacs to split my forces. Cappadocia has only one habitable island, and at its centre is the fortress city.”
Clearchus took a step closer to the screen, ensuring he gained the attention of the Satrap.
“Yet you are here, and neither fighting the Mulacs or the Lydian pirates?”
“My troops are more than capable. There were, however, rumours that the Mulacs might try and hit our undefended planets, but I was too late. When I arrived, they had already landed. The initial attacks were against the outlying settlements, and they have all been demolished by orbital bombardments. The animals used atomic weapons on the surface. The survivors are inside the fortress city and doing their best to defend it.”
“That is why we are unable to perform effective scans of the surface?” asked Cyrus.
Tissaphernes nodded.
“Exactly, but it is more serious than you might think. If the fortress falls, they will be able to hold it indefinitely. I cannot state how important it is to this sector that Cappadocia is kept under the control of the Median Empire. It isn’t just a fortress. It is also a massive foundry and manufacturing complex. Half the citizens of the planet work there. Ships, weapons and supplies can be built or assembled in almost limitless quantities. If the Mulacs are successful, they could establish an almost impregnable base here.”
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