Black Legion - The First Trilogy

by Michael G. Thomas

  “My Lady. Information I have received from my...uh...contacts within the Emperor’s circle indicate a number of important decisions have been made. After your victory here at Khorram, at least three Satraps revolted and turned on Imperial garrisons out on the borders.”

  “What happened?” she asked.

  “The usual for revolt. Within three days, the Emperor despatched war fleets to their territories and firebombed their homeworlds. He ignored their fleets and military bases. The losses on both sides number in the billions, but the Satraps have already reasserted their support for him. News has spread fast. It appears the other Satraps are now more concerned at his vengeance than the warriors your uncle commands.”

  “I see.” It was her only response.

  Xenophon had his own question and lifted his hand to his shoulder.

  “May I?” he asked.

  She nodded, curious to hear his thoughts.

  “First of all, how accurate and trustworthy is this information?”

  Lady Artemas intervened before the offended Medes noble could retort.

  “Any information you hear can be considered fact.”

  Xenophon wasn’t particularly satisfied by that explanation, but it was evidently clear that there was neither the time nor the stomach for discussing anything over than the details of what this man had to say.

  “With this revolt over, do we have any information on Artaxerxes’ intentions?”

  The nobleman nodded to Xenophon.

  “The Empire is, perhaps, more secure than it has been for years. Satraps from the border worlds to the Ionian Territories, and even the robotic domains, have been quick to send tributes, hostages, and their messages of support to the Emperor. In the last three days, his fleet has grown to triple its size and is growing.”

  “Triple?” asked Roxana.

  Of all those present, she was the one with the most experience of Naval command, having served in the professional Navy of Attica. The idea of a Medes fleet that had swelled to triple its last size was something that sent shivers through her body.

  “At Khorram we crushed their fleet, and even then they were able to escape with about a hundred warships. If what you say is true, then they could be operating with a force of three hundred ships. They will outnumber by at least four to one.”

  He motioned with his hand, and the image quickly changed to show colour shapes all heading to one particular area. It was marked up as the Cunaxa Nebula. The model changed shape drastically until it brought up a number of systems in the Nebula. A large number of icons clearly showed a major Imperial fleet. Many more coloured shapes were moving in the same direction as well.

  “This is the place where the Emperor is assembling a force of massive proportions. He is also preparing two more similar sized forces under the command of his deputies at two other Imperial capitals. If my sources at the Royal Court are correct, the Emperor intends on creating a combined force of a thousand ships. They are coming from every quarter of the Empire and bringing thousands of warriors as well. When they are ready, he will unleash three columns at your uncle.”

  He inhaled slowly before adding one last piece of information.

  “He does not intend on just defeating Lord Cyrus. This time he intends on wiping out anybody attached to him. He will not stop until the entire Legion is burned to ashes for their blasphemy.”

  Xenophon and his friends looked at each other in disgust. Lady Artemas looked equally troubled at this last piece of information. She turned and stared at the painting of the Battle of Marathon that Xenophon had been so interested in examining.

  “The painting, it showed the great battle at Marathon, yet I fear we will see a battle soon that will make Marathon look nothing more than a regional dispute.”

  She then looked back to the Median noble.

  “Do you have any idea of a timescale?”

  He nodded slowly.

  “Yes, my Lady. The orders have already been given to the commanders in the field. Based on the commissions of array, it is expected that the three divisions will be ready in nine days. I think you can now see why I sent the communiqué with Lord Cyrus. Time is running out and contrary to expectation, the regime of Artaxerxes is hardening, not breaking apart.”

  Lady Artemas lowered her face into her hands as she contemplated the new information. She had little interest in the dynastic struggles of her uncle, but she certainly didn’t want to see him or his people killed. She lifted her head, looking at her new Terran friends. The more she watched them, the more she realised how fond she had become of all four.

  “Thank you. I will pass on this critical information to my uncle. How long do you intend on staying at Kashan?”

  “I must leave within the hour, my Lady. I will leave the datasphere with you, along with the current fleet dispositions of the Imperial Fleet. I have chartered a place aboard one of the refugee vessels. I will be back at court within six days from here. Take care, my Lady. I wish you and your uncle the best with this campaign.”

  He then rotated slightly and faced Xenophon to whom he nodded to, and then he was gone. Making little noise, he was through the door in as little time as it took for Glaucon to start complaining.

  “Is it me, or did that entire speech sound like a pile of dung?” he said angrily.

  “Dung?” laughed Tamara. She had thrown off any pretence of being the good little guard and was now jumping about the apartment to examine the myriad of fine art. She also managed to find the wine rack that was nestled neatly behind a life-size sculpture of a Median warrior locked in some kind of mortal battle with a monster. It was as though the words of Lady Artemas had taken nearly twenty seconds or so to sink in before she looked back at her.

  “Wait, you don’t trust him?” she asked. “Why are we here, then?”

  The other three stopped, intrigued by her comment.

  “Of course I don’t trust him. He is the brother of Menon. You remember him?”

  Xenophon and Roxana both nodded at this statement. With their service with the Navy, they were all too familiar with the reputation of Menon.

  “Yeah, I’ve heard of him, alright. That piece of filth is a Medes commander, the one we found at the Aronton station. I checked about him after the battle because I was sure I’d heard something about him back at the Academy. Apparently, he took a Terran name after defeating a task force sent against him.”

  Xenophon nodded in agreement and slumped down into one of the reclining chairs before continuing.

  “A foolish Terran officer, now known as Menon the Fool, was sent to clear out a band of corsairs nearly twenty years ago. His family were rich, and he wanted battle command desperately. This Medes corsair managed to trap him and picked off his ship one at a time until just his ship remained. He boarded the cruiser, took the head of Menon and took his name.”

  “I never heard that story before,” replied Glaucon.

  Xenophon laughed dryly.

  “Of course not, why would you repeat a story of epic and humiliating failure? Much better to focus on our finer moments.”

  “Like the little dog beating back Medes warriors at the battle of Marathon?” added Lady Artemas with obvious sarcasm.

  She stood up and walked to a barren wall a few metres away. It was clear, save for a small table with what looked like a partially damaged Terran urn sat upon it. The others watched as she moved. Only Xenophon wondered why there appeared to be so much taken from Terran culture for a people that officially despised what they called violent primitives.

  Lady Artemas held one hand over the urn and spoke a few quiet words. It glowed and five large displays, each one over two metres wide, appeared on the walls. The urn seemed to be projecting them, but the quality and detail was outstanding. Each one showed parts of the Median Empire, and one was screen dedicated to the Core Worlds of the Empire. Xenophon noted how far into this part of the enemy territory they had already advanced. It sent a chill through him as he considered how long it would take to
return home, assuming unlimited supplies and no hostile interruptions. It was clear that victory for Cyrus was the only way he or the rest of the Legion had of staying alive in the long run.

  “A great deal of space, don’t you think?” asked Artemas as she gazed upon the maps. “What you need to understand is that this is a game within a game. The nobles of the Empire are always interested in just one simple thing, the safety of their own necks and houses. Menon and his family will fight for Cyrus or Artaxerxes; they really don’t care which one they follow. What they are concerned about is ensuring they do not side with the loser. Survival is the game, and our Satraps are the masters of this game.”

  She moved her hands in front of the displays, altering each one to show the areas of space where the fleets were apparently being assembled.

  “You can see here the strategic information available to me suggests that at least part of what he said is true. Yes, a massive number of ships are being sent to these three assembly areas. What this data doesn’t tell us is, why they are there and what their plan is?”

  Roxana and Xenophon stepped to her side and examined all the displays in detail.

  “It can’t just be me that is surprised at the massive amount of information available to you. Where is it coming from?”

  “You’ve got a point there,” Xenophon added.

  He pointed to the display on the left that showed the worlds near Khorram.

  “We could use this information to avoid most of their forces, and either withdraw to safety or strike with speed and precision. So where is this all coming from?”

  Lady Artemas smiled and changed them to show a view of the entire Empire.

  “Directly from the military high command on Babylon Prime.”

  “What?” Glaucon snapped. “Why would they still be sending this kind of data here? Don’t they know we could gain access to it?”

  Xenophon nodded, now understanding what was happening.

  “All of this information is being given freely as bait, isn’t it? Artaxerxes is that confident that he wants us to know where his forces are. He wants us to tremble and fear his next move. This is how he will win, by making us react to his predetermined plans.”

  Lady Artemas nodded slowly.

  “Not freely. This information is only available to Imperial command locations, like this one on Kashan. As soon as I accessed this data, it will have been passed on to all other sites. Artaxerxes knows this has been viewed, and my uncle wants him to know this. Artaxerxes attempts to scare us, and my uncle wants to let him and his supporters know that Khorram, the shipyards and the Imperial facilities here are under his control.”

  Glaucon, Xenophon and Roxana looked at each other in confusion. They had all now spent considerable time with their Medes guests, and yet not one of them fully understood how their minds worked. The political intrigue and plots they had encountered made the troubles in the Terran territories seem insignificant.

  She then turned to the orb and tapped it three times. The centre screen altered to show a hierarchical tree of several Median families. She moved quickly through the faces and selected what appeared to be Cyrus. The image turned black and then flickered before a detailed model of the pretender to the throne appeared.

  “Lady Artemas, have you made contact?”

  She bowed down politely in front of the image of Cyrus.

  “Yes, Uncle. As you expected, your brother is preparing a substantial force. Shall I transmit the data directly to you or bring it back via the datasphere?”

  “Send it to me now, my Niece. There is no...”

  His image cut out, and all the displays went dark.

  “What’s happening?” asked Xenophon, immediately suspicious.

  Lady Artemas waved her hands, and the images on the screen altered to show the space around the apartments, as well as the exterior of the spire.

  “Look!” she said in horror.

  All of them watched on as a group of tall soldiers, wearing the uniforms of Laconians, blasted their way past a small group of Arcadian soldiers and entered the lower levels of the spire.

  “The inside, can we see that?” asked Roxana.

  Lady Artemas shook her head.

  “No, internal recording is forbidden for the privacy of anybody that visits. Who would come here if their images were public knowledge, as well as their interests? Why are Laconian soldiers coming here?”

  Xenophon was already moving back the footage of the attack outside. He moved back almost ten minutes until he could see the arrival of a local transport. The figure of the recently departed brother of Menon stepped inside, and a group of Laconian soldiers emerged a few second later.

  “They aren’t Laconians!” he said loudly. “They are Medes troops in fake uniforms. Look at them. They are too tall, and they have the wrong crests. They are coming for you, my Lady!”

  At that mention of deceit, both Xenophon and Roxana pulled out their pulse carbines and rushed to the main archway, checking for signs of danger. Artemas, however, remained and brought up a number of internal video feeds of the apartments.

  “Do you have any weapons or armour here that we can use?” asked Glaucon.

  Tamara had already beaten him to it and was stood in front of a series of glass cabinets containing more captured Terran relics. There were eight manikins, each one full dressed in mint condition clothing and armour of the ancient Terrans. The helmets were of the old style with full-face protection other than the eyes and mouth. Reinforced breastplates with multilayered polymers for projectile protection and magnetised hand shields. It was all from an age of primitive kinetic weapons and edged weapons. Only a few large calibre rifles were on view along the bottom of the cabinet, but there were a variety of knives, axes, swords and bayonets. Some ceremonial, most were military sidearms. She smashed the butt of her carbine at the glass and it shattered, giving her full access to the contents inside. She whistled loudly, and Glaucon turned to look.

  “What about this stuff?”

  She held up one of the helmets and a long, slightly curved sword that gave off a golden hue on its blade.

  Xenophon heard the commotion and stepped back to look. The sight of the blade instantly aroused his imagination.

  “Equipment from the Attican soldiers at Marathon? How did you get those?” he demanded angrily.

  Lady Artemas marched from her position and grabbed the sword, pulling the helmet over her head. It looked strange to see an antique helm mixed with modern Terran armour and Median clothing. Even more so, it was strange for Xenophon to see this attire on a beautiful Medes princess.

  “What are you waiting for? Grab what you can and get into position. They will be here in less than three minutes, and the only way out is either through the elevators or out there!”

  She pointed back to the smoked windows running along one side of the floor. Tamara lifted her carbine and aimed at the glass, but Artemas lifted her hand to stop her.

  “No, you saw how far the drop is, and I can promise you they will have sniper drones in position outside. Once the armoured glass is down, they can pick us off.”

  She stepped to a panel on the wall and banged her fist on it. A dull rumble reverberated through the massive room as a series of thick protective shutters rolled down, sealing off the interior from any external threat. Even the archway was sealed as a double-layered barrier came down from the ceiling with a thud. In just a few seconds, the Royal Apartments had transformed into a fortified bunker.

  “My uncle knows we are in trouble. He will send a rescue party to this level. We just need to hold until then.”

  She moved back to the displays and brought them down to focus on the water features and gardens in front of the apartments. At the far end the doors to the elevator opened, and two naked forms were thrown out. Two-dozen or more Laconian dressed soldiers rushed out and spread out. More soldiers rappelling inside through the breaches followed two bright flashes along the glass exterior. All were dressed the same and carryi
ng what appeared to be Doru style Arcadian rifles. She looked to the smashed cabinet to see the curious sight of her four Terran companions. Each was dressed in a motley collection of faded and heavily worn antique armour and carried both their modern carbines and blades taken from the cabinet. She held up the curved blade in her hand and performed a quick series of diagonal strikes to check its balance.

  Not bad, she thought.

  Movement caught her eye on the displays. She turned to Xenophon who was busy tightening the strap of his slightly rusted helmet. She pointed at the display where a group of soldiers were now moving across the open ground and towards the sealed archway.

  “Get ready, here they come.”

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Pleasure House of Anahita, Khorram Shipyards

  Tamara and Roxana took up position behind the thick stone display units a few metres from the archway. Both had dragged multiple weapons into position there and aimed their carbines at the expected entry point to the apartment. Tamara threw a glance back to the throne and spotted the three of them dragging heavy objects into position around it. As each second slipped by, so their defensive position improved. The first sign of the enemy’s approach was when Artemas shouted out.

  “They are aiming something at the arch. Take cover!” she screamed.

  There was no hesitation, and all five of them ducked down behind whatever solid object they could find. Simultaneously, a heavy armour piercing projectile slammed into the outer plate of the arch’s shutter. Glaucon popped his head up to take a look, but Xenophon forced him back to the floor.

  “Stay down, you fool. It’s probably a timed charge.”

  In answer to his comments, a massive rumble shook the room, and one of the paintings tilted and fell from the wall, smashing onto the ground. Xenophon glanced quickly over the cover and back down again.

  “Well?” asked Glaucon.

  “Not enough, they will need more than one to get through.”

  Glaucon nodded, turning his head to smile at Artemas.

  “Your people make good doors.”