“So how many jumps will it take to reach the Core Worlds at the other side of the Maelstrom?”
Tamara moved over to Xenophon and looked at the objects. She moved in an odd manner, her body twisting as she walked as though her joints were constantly seizing. Xenophon watched her and did his best not to laugh; it was an obvious ploy of hers to get the attention of the others in the room.
Such a petulant teenager, he thought.
“Even if we can make this long trip, how will we find the Legion when they are so far away? Do we even know their final destination?”
Xenophon was surprised at her intelligent observation. Even he hadn’t considered the problem of what awaited them at the other side. It was not as though the Core Worlds were even a handful of planets. The name itself was a misnomer, as there were hundreds, if not thousands of worlds in that part of space. They could spend millennia travelling the stars and never find the Armada.
“Good point,” he said.
Roxana nodded in agreement.
“That is a very good point. We have the last course of the Legion and a target, and that is it.”
Of course, the target!
Glaucon now decided to join in with the conversation. He remained sat on the floor, but the tone of his voice implied scepticism of the entire venture.
“So our entire plan is based upon finding the Emperor of the largest and most powerful Empire ever known?”
Roxana glanced over to him and threw him a grin.
“That’s about it.”
He looked directly at her, toying with her on the subject.
“So what happens if we arrive first, one little cruiser and a pocketful of destroyers, against a million ships and soldiers? It will be over in a matter of seconds.”
“Very true,” said a man who waited in the shadows of the doorway. Everybody in the room turned to look at him. He stepped forward, but the dim lights from the ceiling barely showed his features.
“That is why I have formulated an alternative, interested?” he asked mysteriously.
Tamara slinked over to him and placed her hands on the man’s shoulder in a provocative fashion. Xenophon watched her toying with the man but was more concerned at the stranger. He straightened his back and approached him.
“Who are you?” he asked.
The stranger stepped a little closer, and the light of the swinging lamp finally lit up his face and chest so that he could be seen. He wore the fatigues of the Legion, the dark grey, almost black material worn by all combat forces in the unit. His insignia had been removed, and in some places it seemed quite hastily added, based on the marks on his clothing.
“My name is Ezra, and I have friends on this ship who feel the same way.”
The room was silent as none of those present wanted to say anything. Xenophon distrusted the man immediately. His body language and vocal tone indicated dishonesty. Ezra continued before any of them could refute his suggestion.
“If you want to hear more of what we have to offer, meet us in one hour in the aft storage depot. It is being used to store used power couplings. Don’t bother coming unless you’re serious. Lives depend on keeping this quiet.”
He looked about the room, turned and left, moving into the darkness as quickly and quietly as he had arrived. Tamara moved back and slumped down next to Glaucon. Roxana and Xenophon moved close so that the others couldn’t hear them.
“What’s that all about?” asked Tamara.
Xenophon rubbed his chin as he considered the situation. It wasn’t an easy one.
“Well, it is clear our journey will be a difficult one. We need to know more, though. Is this Ezra looking for a different route home, or does he have a different plan?”
“Why not just bring this up with the Dukas?” suggested Glaucon.
“You saw his uniform. All of his insignia have been torn off. Either he did that himself, or somebody did it for him. Either way, he doesn’t represent the authority on this ship. The question is what do we do?”
The older soldier in the room stood up and walked to the doorway. He looked over his shoulder and back at those staying behind.
“That man makes sense. If he’s right, then we need options, so who’s coming with me?”
A handful of men wandered after him but said nothing. The soldier snorted in derision and then moved away.
“Look, we need to know what is going on, whether they have a useful idea, or they don’t. I don’t know about you, but I’d like a few options of my own.”
Tamara nodded eagerly.
“Yeah, definitely, are we going then?”
Xenophon placed his right hand on her shoulder, doing his best to calm her down.
“No, Tamara, just you.”
Tamara looked almost hurt at the suggestion, but a friendly glance from Roxana seemed to reassure her. The two were the closest in the group with Tamara treating the older ex naval officer almost like a surrogate mother, or possibly more an older sister.
“Your little show earlier certainly won’t have escaped his attention.”
“Yeah, and you do like the attention,” snapped back Glaucon.
Roxana grimaced at his words and chose to ignore them.
“You should go and find out what he is planning and also how much support he has.”
“What about the rest of you?” asked Tamara.
Xenophon looked about the room, checking nobody else was listening in or could hear them speak. Most were involved in their own discussion, and a small group were already fast asleep. He leaned in closer to Tamara.
“We will find somewhere nearby in case you need help. This is really important, you understand that, right?”
Tamara simply smiled back. Roxana reached out and turned the teenager’s head so that they faced each other.
“They might be planning something violent. If this goes wrong, we could end up trapped on a crippled ship. This is important, really important, okay?”
Tamara looked hurt at the suggestion she wasn’t taking any of the conversation seriously. Her face appeared to lose definition as she pouted in annoyance.
“Yeah, I know. I’m not stupid. I’ll find out what’s going on, you can count on it.”
Glaucon and Xenophon looked back at the others in the room and then to each other. It looked like most of them there had little interest in doing anything other than resting their bodies from whatever hardships they had suffered in the last day. Xenophon took a deep breath and then stood, moving slowly so as to not draw undue attention. A small group of perhaps five or six seemed to be watching him. He spotted them from the corner of his eye but did his utmost to avoid eye contact. Roxana moved back to her original position, and Tamara moved to Xenophon. He leaned towards her face and pulled her close. Tamara was surprised at his movement but went with it, worried that it might be part of the ruse. He placed his mouth close her face and whispered quietly.
“Let’s do this. You go first, and we’ll follow in ten minutes, somewhere we can watch the routes leading to the room. If you hit trouble, get out fast. We’ll be close to help you.”
She waited, still confused and unsure as to what to do next. Xenophon could see a number of people watching them, probably wondering what the hell they were doing.
This isn’t good, he thought.
He squeezed her arm, the pressure making her gasp a little. He then whispered.
“Hit me, and then go.”
Tamara looked at him and gave him the biggest grin he’d seen in a long time. She stepped back and slapped him across the face; the impact was loud and heard by everybody there.
“Bastard!” she snapped and stormed out of the room. Xenophon turned to find Glaucon looking right back at him with a massive grin on his face. Roxana shook her head in amusement at the turn of events.
“Shut up, both of you!” retorted Xenophon, but it was useless, they were already laughing along with half a dozen of the others in the room. He moved back to his friends and slumped down next to
Glaucon. His friend leaned in and spoke quietly.
“Well played, my friend, I don’t know what your game was, but they bought it.”
He rubbed his face, surprised at the continuing stinging sensation in his cheek.
Damn, she can hit hard!
* * *
Tamara entered the aft storage depot and instantly felt pangs of doubt and worry. She had been keen to do her part, especially as in the last few days she seemed to end up being more of a hindrance than a help to her friends. She wore, as usual, her Legion overalls but with her black leather jacket over the top. It was hardly regulation, but the Legion wasn’t like any other military force. She moved inside to find nearly thirty people, almost all men, and all of them grimy and angry looking. Once through the door, it slid shut with a clang. Her bright blue hair appeared almost dark grey in the low light, and it took several seconds for her eyes to adjust.
“Is that it?” asked an unseen voice at the far end of the room.
The sound of feet moving about threw her off before another spoke. She could now see their shapes and a few faces in the low red lights being used for discretion.
“Looks like it,” said another.
A ding of metal striking metal indicated the start of the meeting. The first man spoke, his voice low and serious. Tamara moved to the right and leaned against one of the dozens of cases, each one presumably containing a number of used power couplings.
“Thank you for coming here. I expected a few more, but this will do.”
He said nothing for a moment, but the red glow increased slightly until the room was lit well enough for her to make out the outlines and shapes of the others there.
“Dukas Xenias is on a suicide mission, and you are here to find out what alternatives we have to offer. We have people in the command staff as well as a number on the destroyers out there,” he said, lifting his right arm and pointing to the wall of the room.
“If we stay on this course, there are very few outcomes that will work well for us. We have a vast distance to travel, hostile forces all around us and what do we have? One ancient cruiser, packed with dead, wounded and infirm. Just one Median cruiser could take us on, right now.”
There was a murmur of discontent from the other side of the room. At least two, perhaps three men started to argue about what the speaker had been saying. A third man managed to prise them apart and turned back to speak to the man running the meeting. Tamara recognised his voice as Ezra, the man that had visited them in their quarters.
“We understand the problem, tell them, and tell them our plan,” he said in a firm, impatient tone.
The speaker paused, possibly for effect or maybe while he gathered his thoughts.
“We have checked our route and the state of supplies and have calculated that this ship, with its standard crew, could make its way back home.”
The room broke out into uproar as the myriad of figures started muttering, shouting, some even flailing about to strike the others. One of the men struck Tamara and she slid to the ground, unsure as to whether it was intentional or not. Ezra called out to the others.
“Stop this nonsense and listen!”
It took almost a minute for them to calm down and even then a few continued muttering in the background.
“If we follow the old slavers’ route, we can make it back to Bissus. It isn’t an easy run, but in two weeks we can be back in Terran territory.”
“Bissus?” asked another.
“Yes,” replied Ezra, “it is one of the old border worlds. From there, we can take transports to any planet or colony.”
A few seemed placated by the destination, but Ezra spoke again.
“There is a price though, and it is a steep one. We would have to move the wounded to the destroyers. We would need the space for extra fuel and supplies.”
Tamara was confused at his suggestion.
“What about those left behind?”
“What about them? If we choose this option, they will have to manage with the four destroyers.”
Tamara was beginning to see what he was getting at, and she didn’t like it. By leaving the wounded behind, they would essentially be abandoning half of those that escaped from the ambushed Titan.
“So we would leave them behind without the fuel, supplies or fit crew to command them? We might as well shoot them ourselves than leave them adrift in space.”
One of the men scoffed at her concerns.
“You think any of them would do the same for you? Trust me, little girl, in the end it comes down to survival. If Xenias won’t turn back, then we will have to make our own arrangements. I don’t know about you, but I like the idea of a warm bed at Bissus.”
Tamara bit her lip, and did her best to say no more. The rest continued their discussion with an emphasis on what exactly they would be doing once reaching the new destination. Their lewd comments seemed almost to encourage a response, but she did her best to remember what Glaucon, Xenophon and Roxana had said to her. The last thing she wanted was to say something stupid when stuck in a dark, secluded room and surrounded by dozens of angry, potentially murderous men. They carried on shouting and arguing, and she simply leaned back and let them continue.
Now I just have to wait, she thought hopefully.
She sighed in frustration and waited.
* * *
Laconian Titan ‘Valediction’, Aronton Sector
The sight that greeted Clearchus and the Legion was one of total confusion. The Aronton Sector should have been quiet, but it was anything but. Around the massive automated station were the scores of Median ships, most of which were now engaged in a bitter duel with the weapons systems of the station. Valediction was the first to arrive, and in a matter of seconds, the heavy cutters of the station were smashing away at the Titan’s thick shielding.
“What the hell has that idiot got into now?” muttered Clearchus.
“It’s one of our replenishment stations, and they are armed to defend themselves against raiders and pirates. It will only fire on unauthorised vessels within range of its weapons.”
In a series of bright flashes, the rest of the fleet arrived and positioned themselves around the Titans. By staying at a sensible distance, the ships were safe and able to observe the ongoing action in relative safety.
“Strategos,” called out one of the science team, “initial scans show the gas giants in this system are viable for refuelling. It’s what we need.”
Clearchus nodded, pleased at the news. He looked about and spotted Jeane Coxand, the Titan’s tactical officer.
“I need the tactical situation, fast!”
She nodded but said nothing, her hands moving quickly over her computer system. Pages of data flew past until with a final push, she moved the information to the main display. It showed the station and the large number of ships stationed around it.
“What do you think?” asked Cyrus.
Kleandridas gave the display a quick glance and looked to Clearchus for permission to speak. As usual he nodded, deferring to the wisdom and experience of his deputy.
“Ariaeus has positioned his ships too close. At that range, the stations defences are easily able to break through his shielding. I suggest a concentrated bombardment with heavy weapons against the station’s primary weapon systems. Once cleared, we can bring in warships to close range to release boarding parties.”
Cyrus looked surprised.
“What is the problem?” asked Clearchus.
“Ariaeus has walked into a trap, and it looks like combat drones are defending the interior. You suggest a boarding action into the heart of a site occupied by drones. Have you never faced them before? It is suicide.”
“Drones? They are powerful but dumb. They have to be, or else they might start getting ideas of their own. Why do you think we don’t use them?” he fired back with more than a hint of enjoyment at the Mede’s discomfort.
Cyrus looked at the main display; it appeared something had caught his eye. Clearch
us watched but was none the wiser. The tactical officer sent the revised data to the screen and waited for the word. Clearchus appeared satisfied with what he saw and tapped the unit to grant his audio access to all Terran ships in the fleet. He looked to the commander of the Titan, Kentarchos Monsimm.
“All ships are to stay at the allotted distance. Commence bombardment of the station’s defences.”
The Kentarchos nodded and turned to his kybernetes. It was just a few words, but it marked the start of the Terran battle of Aronton, and a battle that would last less than an hour. His announcement was what the officers on the command deck were waiting for. In seconds, the orders from the senior commanders made their way to each ship’s kentarchos and then down to the tactical officers and their gunners. It took less than ten seconds for the first of the guns to open fire.
“Show me,” he said with a calm tone to his voice.
The tactical officer moved most of the data to the right side of the display and brought up a high resolution video feed of the ongoing battle. The beams from many Terran ships were impressive, but it was the firepower from the Titans that dwarfed the actions of any of the other vessels. Even the shielding of the station stood no chance against such incredible power.
“Her primary weapons systems are down, shall we continue against the point defence weapons?” asked Kentarchos Monsimm.
Clearchus watched the destruction of large parts of the station with satisfaction. It was a minor victory but causing damage to Median infrastructure was no great loss to him. After all, the Medes were no friends of the Terrans. The heavy cutters on the Titan were capable of burning through at least six layers of capital ship shielding. He could see the massive puncture wounds went inside the station to a substantial depth. He almost forgot to reply, so enthralled he was by the carnage against the station.
“Take away her weapons, all of them.”
The kentarchos continued issuing orders, and even more firepower rained down from the scores of Terran ships. The Median vessels refused to move from the close orbit of the station and continued to take fire from the closer-ranged weapons. Clearchus walked from his position, and Kleandridas moved to him, waiting for his orders.
Black Legion - The First Trilogy Page 35
