Black Legion - The First Trilogy

by Michael G. Thomas

  “She looks pretty good with ten men at her command, don’t you think?” whispered Glaucon slyly in his ear.

  Xenophon struggled not to laugh, but a brief splutter caught the attention of one of the more senior dekarchos. He swallowed and looked straight ahead as if nothing had happened.

  “Attention!” shouted one of the commanders. Every warrior stood straight and waited for their leader. The door hissed open and out burst Dukas Xenias and his retinue. It was clear from the shouting that something had annoyed him. Rather than speaking to his troops, he simply stormed off along the landing bay and to one of the many ramps that followed on up inside the Titan. Only Komes Pasion and a handful of his junior officers waited behind.

  “What the hell is going on?” muttered one of the stratiotes. The Komes heard the man and glared at him but said nothing. A colourful argument continued before he followed after the Dukas into the darkness.

  “Okay, people, dismissed!” shouted a woman at the end of the hall. It wasn’t clear who she was, but in a flash the landing bay was filled with the movement of hundreds of warriors. Xenophon walked over to Roxana who was busy speaking with the members of her own unit. She spotted his approach and finished up in time to turn to speak with him.

  “Xenophon, what’s going on?” she asked.

  He shrugged and glanced in the direction the Dukas had taken.

  “I know the Dukas was taking part in an operational meeting with the Strategos.”

  “He must have heard something that didn’t agree with him,” suggested Glaucon with more than a hint of his usual sarcasm.

  Tamara ran over and joined them. She looked almost excited and interrupted them all.

  “I’ve just heard about the Dukas, have you?”

  “Heard what?” Xenophon asked.

  “The Dukas is deserting the Legion.”

  “What?” snapped a tall, black dekarchos who was marching past with his own group. He walked over and looked at the blue-haired Tamara.

  “Who told you that crap?”

  “I heard from the transport pilot if you must know,” she replied irreverently and then turned back to Xenophon. “Apparently, there was a big argument, and the Dukas refused to continue on the campaign.”

  Roxana nodded in agreement as the young girl spoke.

  “That makes sense, you saw how pissed he was when he landed.”

  A high pitched whistle stopped their conversation. It was the warning that usually preceded a public announcement.

  “This is it!” said Glaucon.

  There was a short crackle on the speakers, and then at key points on the ship a number of holographic models of the commander appeared. About ten metres from where Xenophon stood the closest public address image appeared. They walked over and joined the dozens of other fighters as they crowded around. Dukas Xenias was an imposing figure and was now wearing his full parade dress, including tactical armour and weapons.

  “Crew and warriors of Olympia, it grieves me to inform you that this ship and her complement of warriors will not be participating in the campaign under the command of Lord Cyrus. The terms of our enlistment into the Legion have proven false and make my taking part illegal if I continue. All Arcadian warriors are also unable to continue. For the rest of you, the same is true. You have signed up to fight for me, and it is my intention to take this ship and our escorts back into Terran space. We will conduct our own operations against the Psidians and have been offered substantial rewards by Satrap Tissaphernes to participate.”

  Glaucon flashed a glance over the Xenophon.

  “Tissaphernes?” he whispered.

  Roxana moved closer to Xenophon, so close that he forgot what the Dukas was saying for a few seconds as he felt her breath on his face. Her quiet voice brought him back to the present though. He looked at her face and realised she had been speaking.

  “Xenophon, are you listening?” she asked. “Is he serious?”

  He looked at her and back to the holographic model. The Dukas gave the impression he was looking directly at him. It was of course nonsense, the communication system being used was one way, but the illusion was impressive.

  “Lord Cyrus intends to depose the rightful Emperor in a bloody civil war. He will use the Legion as the spear tip of this war and will throw our best Terran warriors into a conflict that could spread to every Terran world. He plans a full scale expedition into the heart of the Median Empire.”

  Glaucon unintentionally laughed. Xenophon pulled at his shoulder, but his noise had already spread and started off several of the others.

  “Is he serious? A civil war with Artaxerxes?” he asked, doing his best to keep a straight face.

  Xenophon nodded.

  “It looks that way. I hope Clearchus realises how long this could take. The Median Empire is over a thousand worlds that are spread out in the known galaxy. If he wants the Emperor, then we will have to travel to the capital to find him,” he explained.

  The figure of Dukas Xenias vanished for a moment and then reappeared.

  “The plan of Cyrus will require a journey of almost a month. It will travel through the barren wastelands of the Su’bartu Maelstrom; a place so dangerous only one in three ships ever makes it through. At the Median side of the Maelstrom is the massive fortified Babylon Sector. The entire area is filled with bases, fortresses and factory worlds. As you all know, it is also the home of the Imperial Fleet. It will have to be captured, destroyed or bypassed just to clear a route to the capital and the Emperor. No ship can approach the Core Worlds until this area is neutralised in some way. Even if this works, the Legion will then have to face his personal fleet and ground forces. It is a suicide mission, and the Olympia will play no part.”

  A low rumble started to shake the Titan. For anything to have that effect, it would have to have been substantial.

  “FTL engines!” called out one of the junior officers.

  With a low hum, the Titan shook even more and then everything settled again.

  “This is our first jump on the return journey. All units will return to their allotted quarters and await orders. At our destination, a number of transports will be made available to take anybody that doesn’t wish to continue with this unit. Dukas Xenias, out.”

  Xenophon stepped back from the display and watched a small number of the Night Blades moving away. He looked back to the rest of his friends, and each appeared to be waiting to hear what he had to say.

  “Well, looks like we’re heading home, then.”

  “What?” snapped back Glaucon, “No chance, you know what will happen if we set foot on Attica. We’re wanted men now, and both of us are implicated in the bombings in the capital.”

  The speakers activated again, but this time without the video transmission. The voice wasn’t familiar, and the slight low level of compression in the signal suggested it was a pre-recorded loop of audio.

  “Security update for all personnel. Under the terms of our treaty, we may not offer or contribute services to any enemy of the Empire. Any member of this ship’s crew attempting to leave for the Legion will be considered a traitor and thrown into the brig. Report to your stations and await further orders.”

  Xenophon sighed.

  “That’s just great, so now we’re stuck here.”

  Tamara looked confused and reached out to grab his shoulder.

  “Bombings? You never told me about that.”

  “What?” replied Xenophon, confused by her question, but Roxana knew full well what she was referring to. Tamara was the most recent addition to their little group, and although they had worked together for some time, they didn’t have the bond of friendship that tied Roxana, Glaucon and Xenophon together. It wasn’t her fault. It was simply due to the fact that the three of them already knew each other from back home on Attica. She looked at Tamara and tried to calm her.

  “It wasn’t them, of course it wasn’t,” she explained.

  Tamara frowned at her comments, evidently not pacified.


  “Then why are they outlaws?”

  Roxana looked to Xenophon who nodded an unspoken agreement to let her explain what had happened to them back on Attica. It was a sad tale, and one that none of them liked to discuss.

  “Xenophon’s father was murdered in the coup after the occupation forces left. He lost everything, including his home, money and possessions. Since the coup, there has been a massive clampdown on anybody that opposes the new democracy.”

  Glaucon laughed at her use of the word democracy. She waited for him to stop before continuing.

  “Lots of citizens have been added to the lists, and apparently, a large number have been executed for treason.”

  Xenophon nodded in agreement.

  “That’s right, the two of us can’t return until either something changes back home, or we can guarantee our safety.”

  “And you can’t, right now?” continued Tamara.

  “Of course not, we would land, and security forces would take us immediately into custody. We need work, and right now the Legion is the single best hope for us. Mercs are not being used, so this is it.”

  Glaucon moved for the ramp first, and the others followed. It was wide enough for a wheeled transport. The last few soldiers came with them, leaving the landing bay to the deck crew and transports that sat patiently. Tamara stopped and looked back.

  “Hey, we could just grab one of those and get out of here now?” she said with more than a sense of mischievousness in her voice. The transports were mainly made up of the standard issue dromons, each waiting for a crew and a mission. These were the standard swift gunboats used by the Terrans. They could carry warriors, equipment or supplies both in space and inside an atmosphere. They were big, and at fifty-five metres long, they took up a large part of the landing bay.

  Interesting, thought Xenophon. What would happen if they stopped us, though? How far would we go if the guards became violent?

  He lifted his hand in a stop gesture. The others complied and moved to the darkened wall of the tunnel.

  “You’re not seriously thinking about doing this, are you?” asked Roxana.

  “I...I don’t know. A couple more jumps, and we’ll never catch up with the Armada.”

  Glaucon glanced at the dromons, especially one to the right that was being fuelled. The paintwork, like most gear in the fleet, was painted dark grey, almost black. The symbols of the Legion adorned its flanks as well as the insignia of the Arcadian Navy. Two men were busy working on the fuelling, and there were no others present.

  “Can you fly one of those things?” he asked.

  Xenophon shook his head, and Tamara did the same. Roxana looked at it for a little longer before speaking.

  “It looks like a standard issue Arcadian light dromon, used for utility work and transport. I’ve done a few simulated runs on the larger Arcadian model. It shouldn’t be too different.”

  Xenophon considered their situation for a few seconds, and the weight of the problem seemingly unaffected his judgement.

  “If we do this, we do it right. No injuries and we get out clean. We don’t want to leave behind dead or wounded Arcadians.”

  “True,” laughed Glaucon, “we’ve got enough enemies as it is!”

  A group of six spatharii marched passed them, each wearing full armour and carrying the standard weapons of the unit. The last man in the group carried the squad’s personal shield generator. It was built into a substantial back-mounted pack, and he looked exhausted carrying it about with him. Xenophon watched them move away and wondered why they might be carrying such heavy equipment. In seconds, they were towards the end of the corridor and disappeared into the bowels of the Titan. There were now very few people on the landing pad and only the two working on the nearest dromon were even remotely close.

  “What’s the plan?” asked Roxana.

  Tamara was gone, making her way across the open ground to where the two crewmen were busy working on the dromon. Her black leather jacket and electric blue hair always drew attention. She made it to within ten metres before one of the men stopped her. Xenophon, Glaucon and Roxana pulled themselves close to the corridor wall, watching from a distance as she started up a conversation with both of them. Glaucon pulled a blade from its sheath and held it out in front of him. Roxana spotted what he was doing and reached out, grabbing the blade and holding it low.

  “No, you heard what Xenophon said, no casualties.”

  He looked over to Xenophon to find him glaring back.

  “Don’t be a fool, we do this silently, follow me.”

  He kept low and moved along the corridor until reaching the mouth. Even though a number of the lights were off, the landing bay was still one of the better lit parts of the Titan. Dozens of loading vehicles, small wheeled buggies and locked tool racks filled much of the space. He dashed nearly twenty metres and took cover beside one of the heavy fighters. At nearly ten metres long, it was small but well armoured and capable of taking on all but the most powerful alien craft. Xenophon ran his hand over the gleaming metalwork as he passed close by. As a young boy, he had often dreamed of being one of the small numbers of elite fighter pilots in the Alliance Navy. However, it was probably the most competitive part of the military.

  “Nice, very nice,” whispered Glaucon. Xenophon looked to see his friend close behind and also keeping low to avoid being spotted. Roxana moved a few metres behind, and so far they seemed to have avoided attention. A noise ahead stopped them all in their tracks. It was a loud disagreement between Tamara and the crewmen of the dromon.

  “What is she doing?” called Roxana while remaining hidden against the fuselage of the fighter.

  He looked out and saw both crewmen now engaged in a very lively argument about something inside the craft. She pointed inside, both men moved in, and she followed close behind them.

  “Clever girl!” exclaimed Xenophon, and without even speaking to the others, he was gone. Out from the cover of the fighter, he rushed across the open space and to the left-hand thrusters of the dromon. A toolbox sat on a wheeled bench, and a number of tools lay spread out on the work surface. He took the nearest wrench and moved to the main access hatch. He waited for a second and listened to the conversation inside. It took a few seconds for him to make out their voices.

  “No way can a standard dromon make it through a gap that small, no way!” said Tamara.

  She’s baiting them, I like it, he thought.

  “Look, little girl. I know what the engines can do, and there ain’t no way you’ve put one of these babies through a space like this one,” said one of the crew.

  From his position at the main hatchway, he could now see the dark shapes of the three of them. Movement beside him caught his attention, and his pulse skyrocketed until he spotted it was his comrades waiting near the hatch.

  “Let’s go!” he said as quietly as he could manage.

  He was inside, and already halfway to the two crewmen, when he was spotted. They had no idea what was coming, but even as he approached, the young Tamara leapt into action. Her first move was a quick jab at the first man’s stomach, followed by jumping passed the second and putting him into an arm lock. Xenophon landed next to her and jumped on the first man. They rolled to the ground, and it was then that the second man must have struck a panic button of some kind. The great roar of the warning klaxon almost burst their eardrums with a blast of sound.

  “Are we secure?” cried Roxana.

  “She’s ours, get her started!” replied Glaucon, who was already dragging the crew to the hatchway.

  “What...what the hell are you doing?” asked one of the men, a grimy looking fellow with a cut on his forehead from their scuffle to capture the dromon.

  “We’re not here to cause trouble, friend. We are leaving to join the Legion.”

  Xenophon reached over to help him drag the men out of the vessel.

  “You’ve got that right, no way are we going back to work for Xenias and his friends at the border.”

&n
bsp; The men looked at each other in surprise. They were clearly being paid to work on the ship and not in the slightest bit interested in the Legion or probably their mission.

  “You’ll never get out of here, the landing bay doors are all security sealed for faster than light travel.”

  Roxana could hear them talking and leaned out from the small cockpit to see what the commotion was all about. Xenophon and Glaucon were busy pulling the men out of the hatch, and Roxana was covering them with a pulse pistol. After the initial struggle, the two men seemed to have given up, and they certainly weren’t offering any resistance. She looked back inside the vessel and brought up the main status and tactical display. The first few columns were good until she hit the launch status indicators. She shook her head in irritation and leaned over to the others.

  “He’s right, you know. This place is on lockdown. I’ll need a security override to get out. If we don’t get those doors open, we’ll be stuck here.”

  Xenophon left the two to Glaucon who had now reached the door, climbed into the cockpit and was looking about at the controls. He knew all too well that if Roxana couldn’t do it, then they had no chance. The computer system showed the fuel and integrity status of the vessel, as well as the fact that both the magnetic clamps and landing bay door were still secured.

  “If we’re still here when security gets down here, we’ll be screwed.”

  “You don’t say!” replied Roxana.

  Roxana looked irritated as she pulled on her straps and started the pre-flight ignition sequence. Xenophon watched her as she went through her checks. It amazed him that she had learnt so much after such a short time in the Navy. As he continued watching her, she spun around and barked orders at him.

  “Don’t stand around! Get the doors and airlocks sealed. We need to get out of this place.”