“Assemble a boarding party, heavily armed for ship-borne assault. When the guns are silenced, you will take the landing area and provide a stable extraction point for Ariaeus and any of his warriors that are still left.”
Kleandridas grinned at the assignment, and with a firm salute marched off. As he reached the door, a small group of guards peeled off to join him. Clearchus watched him go, a feeling of emptiness drifting about his insides. It was a small matter, but he did miss the wrench of close combat and the thrill of fighting face to face with his enemies. For a brief moment, he considered calling back his deputy, but deep down he knew it was no longer his place to command small actions such as this one. No more than a hundred men would be required for this task; it would be foolhardy to risk the commander of the entire Legion for something so insignificant.
“Strategos, we have something. Six automated scout cruisers have arrived. They carry the same markings as the station and are powering up their weapons.”
Clearchus looked to Cyrus with a mixture of anger and confusion on his face. As far as he was aware, the Medes made use of their vast number to power their war machine. This interest in advanced machine intelligence posed a serious threat to the Terrans. In the past, they had dabbled with the technology, but the most advanced and independent the machines, the more dangerous they became if an enemy was able to turn them on their masters. The Laconians had suffered two major uprisings, and on both occasions their Terran enemies had managed to tap into the command and control systems of their armies, sending them back against the Laconian warriors.
“What is going on here? Since when have your people made use of automated armed forces?”
The Titan shook slightly as a volley of plasma shells hammered into the portside shielding. Kentarchos Broge Monsimm shouted to the crew, encouraging them to keep at the battle. From what Clearchus could see, there was little real danger to the Terrans from these ships. More plasma fire scattered amongst the ships, but according to the tactical display none managed to penetrate the shielding. Cyrus watched with amusement as the one-sided battle continued.
“These are nothing but toys. I heard my brother was investing in these systems at the less important staging posts, trading stations and scout locations.”
“Do you not have the manpower to garrison your own Empire? What if an enemy is able to force them to turn on your own forces?” asked Clearchus.
“Oh, we have more than enough. I think you will find these systems are programmed to repel any but those deemed fit by Artaxerxes. Once we have access to a working friend or foe transmitter, we will be able to shut them down. As for using them instead of Medes warriors, it is more a question of loyalty than one of numbers. By automating the less important, he can keep a close eye on those forces at key locations through the Empire. It is quite sensible if you think about it.”
Clearchus considered his comments but was still dissatisfied at being surprised by their arrival. If made him wonder how it might change their campaign.
“So this is his way of concentrating military forces at certain points in the Empire? I don’t like it. By doing this, he can maintain larger forces and respond more quickly. Are you sure this isn’t a response to our little operation?”
Cyrus laughed at the suggestion.
“If my brother used these machines at every starbase and station in the Empire, his Median fleet would still outnumber them by a hundred to one. As I said, they are a toy for the less important locations. This is good news for us. It tells us we have selected a route to the Core Worlds that he deems unlikely to be travelled by hostile forces. It is only a handful, and my brother would never use them in large numbers, just in case somebody could turn them against him.”
Clearchus looked back to the main screen and watched the volleys of energy beams and plasma rounds flashing back and forth. They might only be machines, but they were certainly putting up a good fight. He thought back to the stories of the machines and the great siege of Laconia nearly two hundred years earlier.
What if we can find a way to do the same as they did to us? A division of robotic ships with no supply requirements could be a major asset in the coming battle, he considered. Plus it would give me another weapon in this constant struggle for supremacy with that bastard, Ariaeus.
CHAPTER FIVE
Vendetta, Su’bartu Maelstrom
The corridor was dark, slightly damp and filled with containers and abandoned pieces of equipment. In this respect, it was similar to almost any other part of the ship. Smears of grease and oil ran along the floor, and at one end lay a large pool of mixed oil that had leaked from a broken drum. Somebody had covered it with rags, but they had been kicked away, helping to spread the muck and filth through the cramped space. It had been an hour now and still there was no sign of Tamara. Xenophon moved as quietly as he could, desperate to relieve the cramp in his right leg. Glaucon leaned against the wall, doing his best to look innocent, but to Xenophon he looked more like a guard. Roxana had stayed back so she could keep an eye on the main thoroughfare, just in case anybody of note turned up to cause trouble.
“I don’t like this, why is it taking so long?” whispered Glaucon from his position.
Xenophon shrugged and lowered his voice as best as he could.
“She’s a strong one. If there’s trouble, I’m sure we would hear something.”
Glaucon nodded at that, if anything she was a little too capable of looking after herself. Beneath her small frame and bright blue hair she was violent, sometimes aggressive and fast. In fact, the more Xenophon thought about what he had said, the more he worried she might get herself into a violent confrontation. A clunk around the corner and near the area where the meeting took place caught their attention. Glaucon looked back to him and nudged his forehead towards the direction of the sound. Xenophon nodded back and strained to listen.
“Someone’s coming!” said a concerned Glaucon. He leaned back to the wall and tried to look as nonchalant as a man of his size could. Footsteps became louder, followed by more noise from other people. Xenophon felt a mixture of worry and relief at the turn of events; the meeting must be over.
A man appeared at the end of the corridor. He wore military fatigues and looked nervous as he continued past Glaucon and off into the darkness. Another two appeared, the men whispered as they also passed by. Xenophon did his best to not move and managed to escape being noticed as they disappeared. More footsteps and then the form of a shorter, feminine figure appeared. In the dull light it wasn’t easy to tell, but when she moved to Glaucon and gently thumped him it was clear.
“Hey you!” she said nervously.
Glaucon grabbed her arm, pulled her away and then moved along the corridor. They passed Xenophon and took a sharp left towards one of the main intersections. Xenophon stayed in cover of darkness and waited, looking for signs of anybody that might follow her. It looked safe until he spotted movement. The person moved with stillness and precision Xenophon hadn’t seen outside of the best dance schools. It was a woman and she wore dark clothes, tight fitting that revealed no discernible sound. She moved to where Glaucon had stood, barely five metres from Xenophon and then stopped. She examined the hall, and for the briefest of moments, he was convinced she had spotted him. The shadows between the two crates seemed to vanish as he waited. Incredibly, she looked away and continued moving along the corridor. It took nearly half a minute for her to complete the journey along its entire length before finally turning off at the end.
Who is that, and why is she following Tamara?
Once he was satisfied there was nobody else in the corridor, he pulled himself out from the shadow. As he moved, his back creaked, and he was forced to move slowly as the cramp in his body slowly vanished. He didn’t have time to waste and followed in the same direction as the mysterious woman. He moved quickly until reaching the end of the corridor and the T-junction. He stopped and glanced backwards, checking for signs that he was being followed, but it looked clear. He turn
ed back and gasped.
“Why are you following me?” demanded the mysterious woman.
She blocked his path and stood less than a metre away. At this distance, he could see the close-fitting clothing and the hood that covered most of her head. A flicker of light from the dim lamps at the end of the corridor gave just a hint of her face and the whites of her eyes. He felt something touching his stomach and glanced down. He gasped at spotting a black blade, long and thin, pushed up to his body.
“I asked you a question. Who are you, and what do you want?” she demanded, and this time her tone changing to one of irritation. He thought about lying, but what was the point? It would be easy to find out who he was, and a lie could easily end with his death.
“Xenophon...” he spluttered, “Dekarchos of the Night Blades.”
He spotted the flash of a smile on her face at the mention of the unit’s unofficial name. He considered grabbing the weapon, but she was clearly no amateur. He needed to play this carefully.
“You are following a friend of mine.”
She tilted her head as if intrigued by his comments.
“The blue-haired girl?”
“Yes, she is part of my unit,” he added.
“Then you are aware she is colluding with traitors? You know the penalty, do you not?”
Xenophon pulled back, lowering his hands in a passive manner. The woman stayed where she was but kept the blade out in front of her, pointing it at him. With the change of angle, he could now make out her face more clearly.
“You’re a Medes agent!” he snapped back, now realising how she had moved so quietly. “What are you doing on this ship?”
She reached forward, grabbed his shoulder and threw him to the wall. She moved up closer and pushed him front first against the bulkhead. He tried to struggle, but the sight of the black blade appearing next to his eye forced him to be still.
“My purpose here is none of your business. Tell me, what was the meaning of this meeting? How is your friend involved?”
The knife was just a short distance from his eye now. It was dangerous, but the one good thing was that he could see it. He waited until she opened her mouth again to speak and then struck. He started with a simple elbow strike to her chest that knocked her back a short distance. Xenophon then ducked down to avoid an obvious counter stab and punched to her face. Even when surprised, the agility and grace of the woman was incredible. She managed to twist back and away from his fist.
Who are you?
He caught something in his peripheral vision, but before he could respond, it was over. His vision turned to darkness, and the last thing he felt was a numb pain to his forehead. He fell to the ground, a lifeless shape in the blackness of the corridor.
* * *
Glaucon checked one last time and bundled Tamara into the small storage room near the rumbling of the air circulation system. He was sure he could hear a patrol moving towards them. As they waited, a group of four men went past. They were not the usual crew. These were from one of the transports that had been lost in the ambush. They had removed their uniforms and were carrying improvised weapons. This was one of the least desirable parts of the ship, and an area usually only visited by engineers or security patrols. The only clue they had found so far was one of the crew who said he’d seen a couple heading into this part of the ship. According to the engineer, he had remembered the two because it seemed a slender woman was carrying the other, and it had surprised him. But not enough it would seem to actually tell anybody.
“Where is he? How could somebody drag him down here without being stopped?” asked Tamara.
“I don’t know, maybe he was drugged? There are some pretty unsavoury types here, you know.”
He lifted his finger to his mouth; the sound of somebody approaching forced them to keep still. The noise came closer until it was almost upon them. Glaucon leapt out and pinned the helpless person to the wall. It was Roxana.
“Hey, too close, Glaucon!” she yelped.
Glaucon relaxed and moved back, nodding in compliance.
“Any luck?” he asked.
Roxana shook her head and leaned back against the wall. She exhaled slowly.
“I’ve tried every section in this part of the ship. The only sign he was even here are the marks on the floor where we were waiting for Tamara.”
“You think somebody is holding him, ransom maybe?”
“Could be, but there’s another possibility.”
Glaucon gave her a look that was part confused and part nervous.
“Which is?”
“Bounty hunters, the two of you are wanted men still, aren’t you, back on Attica?”
Glaucon gave it some thought. It wasn’t likely, but there was a chance, even a minor one, that somebody had managed to infiltrate the Legion with the express aim of taking the two of them back. What if it was assassination, though? He exhaled nervously as he thought about it.
“What?” she asked.
“It could be an assassination.”
“True, that’s more likely than sending somebody all this way. How would they get back, otherwise?”
They waited and considered their situation for a little longer, and Tamara spoke up. She kept her voice low, but the concern in her voice was genuine.
“If they have him, then we need to speak to the Dukas.”
Glaucon looked at her and back to Roxana.
“She’s right you know? Xenias has the manpower and the authority to do whatever he wants on this cruiser. Let’s get there and fast, time could be critical.”
Both Roxana and Tamara nodded in agreement. Glaucon left the safety of their hiding place and moved out first. It was only a short journey back to the main access corridor. It took nearly ten minutes for them to make it, and not helped by the spatharii patrol that was busy grappling with thugs from one of the other ships. Once they reached the corridor, they mingled with the crowds of warriors and crew. The lighting was better there, and everybody seemed to have something to do. Glaucon stopped and turned to the other two.
“Do you know how to get to the command deck from here?”
“Of course, all cruisers of this era follow the same basic format. Follow me!” said Roxana with almost a laugh to her voice. She moved off down the corridor and took an immediate right turn into one of the main access shafts. Unlike civilian ships, this one was designed to operate with various degrees of damage. Using an elevator on board a ship of war was a risky business due to failure and also the space it wasted. Several wide ladders led to the floor above and below the current level.
“Are you sure about this?” asked Glaucon with a tone of surprise at finding something as archaic as a ladder.
“Follow me,” replied Roxana in a matter-of-fact voice.
She pulled herself onto the ladder and started the low climb up to the next level. As they climbed, Glaucon continued to question her.
“You’re telling me this is how the Dukas would get to the command deck?”
She climbed up further.
“No, this is a shortcut up through the engineering decks. This is a more direct route. You know what these ships are like. There are only a small number of elevator shafts at key areas.”
Tamara nearly laughed at their discussion.
“Let me guess, this isn’t one of them?”
They continued another few metres until reaching the level. Signs on the walls indicated the direction of the subsection. Roxana ignored them and moved off towards a series of oval doors, each sealed with mechanical locks. It was simple, but very effective in this day of advanced computers and communication technology. The last thing anybody wanted in space was a ship that could be controlled or modified by the enemy. They entered the narrow corridor, and Roxana pulled the door shut behind her. It was cramped inside, with thick bulkhead ridges running along its length and a continuous rumble through the walls.
“Where are we now?” asked Glaucon.
Roxana moved off ahead and ran her
hands along the thick metal to her right as she moved.
“These are the cooling chambers for the forward guns. In battle, this corridor would be double the current temperature. It gets pretty stuffy down here, so come on, we don’t want to linger.”
Glaucon kept his hands well away from the pipes and trailed close behind. It didn’t take them long to reach the next sealed door. Glaucon helped her with this one; it was substantially stiffer than the first and took great effort to unseal. Glaucon moved out first and was surprised to find himself in the forward engineering section. Nearly twenty crewmen were busily working on the equipment, and only one even noticed him in there.
“What are you doing here?” he called out.
Tamara and Roxana appeared behind him and forced the door shut. Glaucon turned back to them and called out in an urgent tone.
“Move it, now!”
Tamara didn’t even consider his words; she ducked low and rushed for the open door leading into a well lit corridor. One of the crewmen, a burly looking man that wore a primitive looking breastplate woke up from his boredom and blocked their path. Tamara crashed into him, but his bulk stopped her in her tracks. She stumbled and fell to the right only to be caught by Roxana who followed close behind. Glaucon, on the other hand, had no difficulty and shoulder barged the man to the wall.
“Quickly!” he spat out, using all of his strength to hold back the man.
As soon as the two women were through, he smashed his head into the man’s nose, and a spray of blood sprayed over the two men. In the confusion, he chased after the others. They had made surprisingly good progress and were already into the next corridor before the other crew had realised what was happening. Two sets of medics were busy moving wounded crew, so they were able to duck and weave their way through the groups of people until eventually reaching the main hub that connected four difference parts of the ship.
Black Legion - The First Trilogy Page 36
