Black Legion - The First Trilogy

by Michael G. Thomas

The ships partially damaged gymnasium was hardly the best place to be introduced to new people. With the shift change, the casualties still filling the infirmaries and many of the crew quarters, it was one of the few spaces left to be used. As the small group of five ships continued their jumps towards Khorram, so the mood had shifted in the ship. The makeshift bar had been closed and a temporary firing range erected so that the troops could train. Xenophon and Artemas were both there along with Glaucon and a dozen other spatharii, each of them working on weights, running or practicing their martial arts training.

  “Where are the others?” asked Xenophon.

  “Roxana is collecting some new kit for Artemas, and Tamara is gathering training weapons. They are due any minute,” explained Glaucon, surprised at the impatience of his old friend.

  Both Glaucon and Xenophon wore their training fatigues, a lightweight material that was closefitting and didn’t interfere with their movement. It covered all the skin up to the throat and was made of a special fabric that helped spread heat and perspiration. Artemas, on the other hand, had elected to remain with her more provocative Median clothing; and to the Terrans it had more in common with tight fabrics and corsets than military gear.

  “Can you fight in that?” asked Glaucon with more than a hint of scepticism.

  “Want to find out?” she asked with one raised eyebrow.

  Glaucon placed his towel on one of the crates and moved out into the open space towards the soft training mats.

  “Well, actually I would,” he said suggestively while glancing towards Xenophon. He was both please and surprised to see his friend nod, effectively allowing the bout to proceed.

  Artemas moved into the middle of the floor and took up a fighting stance. Her left foot was forward and her knees slightly bent. She lifted her elbows up to present the bones of her forearms to Glaucon. Xenophon’s friend simply walked out into the area and stood several metres away. He was relaxed and calm, but Xenophon knew that deep down his friend had speed and strength that had surprised many an enemy in the past.

  “So, what would you like me to do?” he asked with a grin.

  “You can try to do anything you want with me,” she said and blew a kiss at him.

  Xenophon instantly spotted the change in his posture, and in a flash he bounded towards her and lowered himself. It was one of his standard moves; the shoulder barge to the stomach that usually threw his opponent onto their backs and to the floor. Xenophon allowed himself a small smile, knowing full it was Glaucon’s plan to force her to the floor on her back. This was, of course, what he planned but nothing like the way it ended up. As he rushed in and lowered his head, she simply stood her ground. They almost made contact before she moved her weight and slid to the left and away from his attack. She lifted her right leg that was now in front of him and brought it up as high as her chest before bringing it back down onto his back. It was a light strike, but it easily knocked him to the floor.

  “Nice,” laughed Xenophon, much to the annoyance of Glaucon.

  He lifted himself up and wiped the dust from the floor. Artemas seemed to almost dance about in front of him. Her long legs moved with a grace and speed that Glaucon could never match.

  “You charge like a bull,” she said in a matter of fact tone.

  He rolled his shoulders, and the right one creaked a little with the movement. He adopted a fighting stance, similar to the one used by Artemas and then moved in, but this time slower and more considered.

  “Better,” she said, almost baiting him with her words, “you anticipate too much!” she added and moved in with a series of fast jabs towards his face. He easily batted them aside and moved for a powerful punch to the stomach. As his fist moved in, she twisted her hips and trapped his arm in her armpit. With a simple grab and twist, she had his arm locked behind his body. With a short push he fell down, twisting as he went until he landed on his back once more. She dropped down so that her knees where each side of his head and sat on his chest.

  “Is this what you had in mind?” she asked with a wicked grin, so wicked that even Glaucon had to laugh at his predicament. At that very moment in walked Tamara and Roxana, and both of them carrying the training gear and weapons they had set out to find. Roxana stopped when she saw Artemas straddling Glaucon on the floor. She was about to speak when she saw a grinning Xenophon stood to the side and watching.

  “I see you’ve been busy, then?” she said sarcastically.

  Artemas leapt up and reached down to help Glaucon up. His pride may have been slightly wounded, but he seemed happy with their little skirmish. She stepped up close to him so that she could see his face and eyes clearly. It was uncomfortably close for Terrans, but Xenophon had seen other Medes do it. It appeared to be a measure of respect.

  “You are a powerful man, Glaucon. That power, tempered with control, will make you formidable.”

  He smiled back and swung his arm towards her buttocks. She easily caught his hand, and instead placed her own hand in his and shook it.

  “You need to keep this guy under control.”

  Xenophon approached them and turned, pointing to the two new arrivals.

  “These are my friends and also your protectors. This is Roxana, ex-Alliance naval officer and expert in tech, weapons and flight management. You will not find a more experienced or intelligent officer like her in the Legion.”

  He then turned to Glaucon who was motionless and staring at her.

  “This larger than life character is my old friend Glaucon from back home on Attica. What he lacks in manners, he makes up with determination, skill and strength.”

  Artemas smiled at him, “I have no doubt.”

  She looked over to the young Tamara who was busy examining the Medes female from head to toe. Her attention seemed especially concentrated on her Median clothing.

  “And you must be Tamara?” she asked.

  Tamara looked at her but said nothing. Artemas glanced over to Xenophon as she tried to work out how she must have offended the young woman. He simply shook his head in annoyance.

  “Tamara is a special case. She is fast, agile and quite the specialist, aren’t you?” he said while doing his best to encourage her.

  Tamara shrugged but again said little. Artemas looked at her face and noticed the anger that was hidden behind her eyes. She’d seen the same look before, many years earlier on some of the worlds cleansed by the Taochi; a race of monstrous warriors that had swept through large parts of the Median Empire before being crushed by a vast Imperial Armada. The race was bipedal, and of similar shape and build of an upright bull, but with a strongly muscled upper torsos and arms. Some of the children she had seen in the aftermath of the war or liberation had the same look of fear that Tamara exhibited. She turned her head slightly and walked over to the stack of training weapons she had just brought in.

  “Do you like to fight?” she asked her.

  At this question Tamara’s face lit up. She cocked her head and followed Artemas as she examined the weapons. She withdrew two short swords, each no longer than a metre and looked back over her shoulder to Tamara. She smiled inwardly at seeing the young woman watching.

  So, you are interested in something, she thought.

  Artemas moved back into the centre of the room where she had recently fought Glaucon. She carried in each hand one of the synthetic training weapons, and each one was similar in size and weight as an ancient machete. She spun them in her hands with great skill and precision before stopping and pointing the tips of both towards Tamara.

  “Well, shall we dance?” she asked and hurled the blade in her left hand to Tamara. It was a perfect throw, and the weapon followed a curved course towards the young woman’s face. At the last moment she reached out and caught the hilt.

  “Sure, we can do that,” she answered with genuine pleasure on her face.

  Tamara walked out into the training space and noticed the small number of other people working out had stopped and moved aside to watch. It was a min
or crowd, but the extra eyes looking at her increased the tension and started pumping her heart faster and faster. She glanced at the weapon; it was nothing fancy and perfectly safe, providing they avoided the throat and eyes. She touched the tip with her left hand and checked the flexibility. It was enough to stop a major injury but hopefully sturdy enough to deflect a heavy blow.

  “Tamara, have you ever heard of the Taochi?” she asked.

  The two circled around each other, the weapons hung low and ready. Tamara shook her head at the question.

  “No, why?”

  Artemas kept moving but was intrigued by the footwork used by Tamara. She was slight and young, but her footwork implied significant training.

  Dance or martial arts? Artemas thought.

  They continued to move around each other, both watching and studying the movement of the other. Artemas was now being much more conservative with her moves, doing her best to give as little away as possible. Tamara, on the other hand, had the look of somebody that either had no idea as to what they were doing or were displaying a total disregard for the other as a ploy. She lowered her blade to the floor and stopped, almost expressionless.

  “I see, you wish to draw me in?” said Artemas in reply. “Fine, let’s go!”

  She took three steps forward and hacked in a horizontal slash that would have decapitated any other person. Tamara lifted her hilt but kept the point low so that she could parry in a hanging position. The blade easily slid off, and she flipped it around to deliver a counter cut to the back of Artemas’ head. The Medes woman neatly evaded the strike by bending down low to almost half her height and then took two steps to the side. The two spun their blades and faced off once more.

  “Interesting, very interesting, you’ve been trained in the old way. I thought since our great wars that only the Laconians bothered in this kind of training.”

  Tamara leapt forward, buoyed on by her success and delivered a withering hail of cuts. Most came from the left, but three struck low on the left, one almost striking Artemas in the forearm. They backed off once more. Neither seemed particular worn out by their action, and the look of concentration on their faces was marked.

  “I wasn’t trained. I learned from experience.”

  They moved again and delivered one cut after another, each parrying and deflecting, desperately trying to find an opening, but every time it was stopped. After a long exchange, they separated when Artemas lifted her hand for them to stop. She moved to Tamar and touched her hand.

  “May I?” she asked.

  Tamara looked back to Xenophon who simply shrugged. She looked back and nodded slowly. “I guess.”

  Artemas pulled her hand to her shoulder and placed it on the skin around her collar bone. Tamara shuddered slightly as their skin made contact. Artemas closed her eyes and concentrated for a few seconds before opening them again and releasing her.

  “I understand now. I am sorry for your loss,” she explained with a slightly lowered head. The others move closer and Roxana placed her arm around Tamara as though to protect her.

  “What the hell was that?” asked Glaucon suspiciously.

  Xenophon looked at Artemas’ face but could see no ill intent towards Tamara.

  “It is a gift, something a small number of those in my family have. We are able to sense the pain of others through physical contact.”

  She reached out to place her hand on Tamara again, but Xenophon grasped her hand and stopped her.

  “What do you mean, shared, you can read thoughts?”

  Artemas grinned at the suggestion.

  “No, of course not, just emotions, and a general feeling that goes with it. If I were able to read thoughts, I would never assume I could just do so at will. That would be, well...”

  “Immoral,” completed Roxana.

  A low whistle and buzz reverberated through the ship. It was the loudspeaker system.

  “Now hear this, our ETA for final destination is forty-three minutes. All crew and warriors are to report to their respective posts and commanders.”

  The small group were silent for a second as they realised their long journey through the Su’bartu Maelstrom was almost at an end. Glaucon was the first to speak.

  “So our new job is to protect Miss Artemas here, so where do we go, and what do we do?” he asked.

  Roxana nodded in agreement at the question.

  “That is a good point. Dukas Xenias said I was to report directly to Dekarchos Julius, the commander of his special operation unit. I suggest you all grab your gear, and we’ll meet with the rest of his unit.”

  Artemas looked at Glaucon.

  “No, my friend, as Xenophon knows, my official title in the fleet is Lady Artemas. It is my intention to be wherever I may be of assistance. I have some intelligence and combat skills that might prove useful.”

  Tamara smiled at the last part.

  “That is something none of us doubt.”

  It was the first sincere and pleasant thing she had said in days.

  * * *

  “This is Kybernetes Ezekiel Manus. We will be jumping in sixty seconds. All combat troops check the seals on your suits and ready your weapons. Crew, man your stations. We have no intelligence on Khorram, so we will assume we are going in hot. Gods willing, we should find signs of the Legion there.”

  The spatharii waited in their groups of ten, each led by an experienced dekarchos. In theory, the commanders would have a certain number of years training, but in this case the men had elected their own commanders where needed. Numbers were low as they had lost the good part of their warriors on the Titan Olympia. Most of the survivors were now waiting in the assembly areas, corridors and landing deck. Dekarchos Julius looked to his own group of heavily armoured spatharii. They were the elite warriors that had help extricate Xenophon and his people from Olympia in the first place.

  “The safest place for the Lady is in your care. Her knowledge of the enemy and this area of space could prove invaluable. I want you to go with one squad of my men and establish a strong presence on the command deck. This ship is vulnerable to boarding actions, and we will not lose it again.”

  Xenophon saluted and was about to move when he realised the Dekarchos was staying where he was.

  “What about you, Sir?”

  Julius looked to his veterans and spoke to one before turning back to Xenophon.

  “The rest of my team will wait here until called for. You defend the command deck. We will be on station to board enemy vessels or come to your rescue, if you need it...again!”

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Vendetta, Khorram shipyards

  Xenophon watched the rest of his squad of spatharii as they waited patiently for the hum of the jump engines to signal the start of the sequence. It was only a few more seconds, but the feeling of suspense was palpable in the command deck. Dukas Xenias stood motionless, his eyes on the display. The rest of the bridge crew monitored their stations, and the spatharii simply waited. Then it started. A low rattle that culminated in a short but powerful sense of nausea as the ship leapt between two points of space. It was fast, very fast and rougher than usual.

  Must be a longer jump than normal, Xenophon thought.

  The design of the jump engines was a closely guarded secret amongst all Terrans, especially as they had developed a system of longer ranged engines than even the Medes. It was one of the reasons that all Terran ships were equipped with reactor and engine destruction equipment should a ship ever be crippled or captured.

  “Five...four...three...two...one!” called out the ship’s Kybernetes. Then with a bright flash the blurred stars and shapes on the computer displays and main screen transformed into an almost pink vista. The dots turned to shipyards, planets, station and large ships.

  “What’s going on!” cried the Dukas as the crew checked the ship’s sensors. Around the Vendetta appeared the four Hydra Class destroyers, each of them pockmarked and scorched from the battle during their escape from the Olympia.

/>   Kybernetes Ezekiel Manus was fast, and in fifteen seconds had managed to isolate the key points of interest around them.

  “We’ve arrived in the middle of a standoff. Off there, is the Strategos, along with the Legion in full battle array,” he said pointing to his upper left.

  Xenias pointed to the massive formation of ships in the opposite direction.

  “And them?”

  Kybernetes Manus turned in his chair, swallowed and answered.

  “The Imperial Fleet, in full battle order.”

  Xenophon tore his gaze away from his spatharii and at the monstrous fleet facing them. It was not a mere few dozen ships. This was a larger number of vessels than he had ever seen in one place, and they had arrived right on the periphery of the Legion. Artemas laced her hand on his arm and leaned in.

  “That ship there, it is the flagship of the Emperor himself.”

  The ship’s auletes called over to Kybernetes Manus.

  “Sir, I have an urgent signal from Topoteretes Pleistoanax.”

  Xenias waved his hand to place it on the main screen. The face of the deputy commander of the Legion appeared.

  “Dukas Xenias, you have returned!” he announced in surprise at seeing the face of the Dukas.

  “Indeed. Olympia is lost, and we are all that remain,” he explained as quickly as he could. Even as they spoke, he noticed the Legion’s formation was changing shape. The Median fleet seemed to be doing the same as both sides lengthened their lines wider and wider.

  “I see, well, we can discuss this after the battle. I have sent the tactical plan to your tactical officer. What assets do you have remaining?”

  Xenias nodded in reply and glanced over to the tactical officer who signalled he was receiving the encoded information on the battle plan. It was a much faster way of assessing the plan, checking ship dispositions and even the general strategy than relying on face to face communications. It was even more useful by the fact that the number of ships was so great.

  “I have four destroyers and a large contingent of survivors from the Olympia, at least seven hundred fighters with more on the destroyers.”