Black Legion - The First Trilogy

by Michael G. Thomas

  “Well, boys, are you ready to follow a woman into battle?” she asked wryly and nodded towards Komes Pasion. He threw her a magnetic grapple unit. She then turned from them and sprinted off. The rest of the Terrans were left stunned, and even Komes Pasion appeared lost for words. He pulled the bolt of his own rifle and waved it forward.

  “Night Blades, to the tower!”

  From total inactivity, the frontline transformed as dozens of lightly armoured stratiotes broke cover and rushed through the killing ground towards the tower. Xenophon, Roxana and Glaucon chased after her, but her speed was greater than even Roxana could manage. Tracer fire from the hundreds of defenders poured down at them but was quickly answered by the gunfire from the hidden automaton soldiers. Xenophon saw Artemas vanish into a great blast of dirt and smoke as three mortar shells dropped down directly into the attacking formation. The force of the blast threw him to the floor, and he felt the impact through the armoured legs of his spatharii armour. Glaucon staggered but managed to stay upright. His friend grabbed at him and lifted him to his feet. Scores of Night Blades streamed past them and to the base of the tower.

  “Come on, we need to get up there!” he growled and then jumped ahead.

  Xenophon peered through the smoke and saw the shape of Artemas. She had miraculously avoided the blast and was aiming the magnetic grapple up the tower. With little noise, the device launched a projectile up and over the defences until it locked into something on the other side. She tugged at it and then ran at the wall. With speed and grace, she jumped and landed feet first on the wall. The grapple wound in, and she ran up the wall as though she was on the horizontal surface.

  Insane woman!

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Citadel of Cunaxa, Cunaxa Secundus

  Three Terran fighters jinked to avoid their pursuers. The advance forces of Tissaphernes had now arrived, and the growing air supremacy of the Terrans had been turned around completely. Even the autonomous drones used by both sides were shot down the minute they approached within several kilometres into the warzone. But more horrendous was the thick black smoke that had settled through parts of the city. Most was coming from the scores of destroyed buildings, but some came from the smouldering wrecks of dromons and armoured vehicles that had been torn apart by the violence in the city.

  Tamara watched the unfolding battle from the relative safety of the broken rubble in front of the Citadel walls. One of the powerful siege machines burned with great intensity, but the other three continued to launch their deadly projectiles against the thick walls of the Citadel. She lowered her eyes down to the sight on her Doru MK II rifle. She’d already adjusted the optical sight to two hundred metres and watched the tower for signs of the enemy. Just as Artemas has said, the outer wall was clear and free from weaponry. She checked for the shapes of the Night Blades, but the greatest movement came from Artemas herself. She was already halfway up and increasing her lead with every step. About twenty of the stratiotes were also on the tower, lifting themselves up using the ropes from the grappling equipment.

  “To the left,” whispered one of the men to her side.

  A small group of eight Night Blades had stayed behind to assist the automatons in the overwatch gunfire. Four were expert shots, and the others performed the vital role of spotter. It was a job perfectly suited to the lightly armoured Night Blades. Tamara kept her eye on the scope and panned the weapon slowly to the right, looking for the potential target. The wall was almost two-thirds the height of the tower and covered with crenulations like something from the ancient past of a hundred different races. Small sections jutted out at fixed intervals with gaps for soldiers to fire from. They were covered with metal plating to stop being hit by bombs and missiles from above, and even sported low power energy fields. They flickered on and off to give the defenders an opportunity to shoot. It was these gaps that the Night Blades watched for, the times when they were vulnerable to attack. It was there that she saw two Medes warriors moving a heavy pulse cannon into position. The larger of the two seemed to be carrying most of the weight. The second carried a drum with cables running to the weapon.

  Got you.

  Tamara took careful aim at the larger figure and squeezed the trigger. The Doru rifle punched into her shoulder, accelerating the projectile at super high speeds. At the same time, it loaded in another two rounds and fired them off in almost the same moment. The first struck the Medes in the head, and the other two scattered nearby with one striking his throat. There was a slight puff of red mist, and then he instantly vanished from view. But most importantly, the dead man dropped the heavy weapon. It fell about a metre before the second man reached out of the gap to grab it. A second Night Blade shooter managed to strike him in the arm, and the weapon dropped from the wall and clattered amongst the rubble on the ground.

  Yes! She thought happily.

  It was a minor victory by all accounts, but with her injury and the maelstrom of battle raging all around her, it felt good to be back in the fight and doing something useful to help her comrades. She moved the sight back to the left and watched Artemas. The lithe and agile lady had made it two thirds up the tower and was now running to the left as though swinging on the rope. Tamara watched in awe, and she changed direction and ran. It was as if she wore magnetic boots. Just as she reached the right-hand side, her feet lifted up, and she sailed around the tower to the side. Then she let go. Tamara’s heart felt as it had stopped, as she watched her fall down and disappear onto the wall. She tracked the spot where she expected to find Artemas, but the shape of the wall hid everything from her. Movement on the tower caught her attention. It was somebody dressed in the same attire as her.

  “Xenophon!” she uttered in both surprise and concern.

  He was swinging along the tower, much like Artemas had been, but with a little less speed and grace. His left hand held onto the narrow wire, and his right hand was raised and pointing to the wall. Streaks flashed from the muzzle of one of his Asgeirr-Carbines. He then let go and vanished inside the wall structure, along with Artemas. Tamara let out a sigh at the sight of her two friends vanishing into the unknown.

  * * *

  Five kilometres from the Citadel came the main assault wave; squadrons of dromons with gunships and drone escorts swept in low and fast over Cunaxa’s urban sprawl. Even from this distance away, the gunfire and missiles launched from the primary defences reached out to strike them. The drones functioned much like ablative armour and rushed out in front to take the attention of the tracking systems. Some were shot out of the sky, but a surprising number made it through.

  Right behind them came multiple formations of dromons, all of which were led by a single heavily armoured command dromon. Though superficially similar to the other craft, this one had been purchased by Clearchus from the substantial funds paid to him by Lord Cyrus. It had slightly less interior space but carried thicker front armour and even shielding. It was something never used before on dromons, though he suspected it would soon become common practice. Once activated, the shield unit had functioned much like an airbrake. It was one of the many reasons they were not normally used. Some cunning work by the Ionian engineers on board his Titan had allowed them to modify three separate units to create a crude cone of protection along the front of the craft. It was far from perfect, but their calculations made the craft proof against projectiles up to pulse cannon sizes. Two shells struck the nose and glanced off the shielding, sending streaks of multi-coloured energy from the craft. A small piece of armour tore off from the impact as a low amount of kinetic energy managed to break through the many gaps in the improvised shield.

  “Damn, that was close!” called out Clearchus.

  The dromon shook from the impact but continued forwards on its course. Four more dromons formed up behind him in a wedge formation and deployed their ground attack arsenal. Dromons were usually unarmed, but the Laconians made use of both transport and gunship variants. The first wave, led by Clearchus, carried the best troops
and also the dromons with the greatest number of weapons. Clearchus watched the sight of the battle through the toughened glass of the nose of his command dromon. The great bulk of his armour made anything but a modified vessel such as this useless to transport him and his elite bodyguard into battle. For this, the final and perhaps greatest battle of his life, he was wearing his best and most lavish armour. Like all Laconian military equipment, it was both effective and a sight like no other. The chest armour was muscled like a bronze cuirass of old, and his helmet was only slightly different to those his people had used back when shields and spears were the main weapons of war. His personal shield generator was built into his left arm. Although heavy, it would be able to provide him with full body protection in any direction he placed his forearm. His long crimson cloak looked black inside the darkened confines of the dromon. He turned back to his comrades. They were handpicked to be his elite bodyguard. There was no doubt in his mind that his unit could take any objective, no matter how well protected.

  “Strategos, we’re moving over the Arcadian landing zones.”

  Clearchus nodded at the news and watched from the small windows. They screamed past a number of dromons that were busy bringing more troops to the battle. They were not far from the Citadel now, and his body ached with anticipation of the epic battle he’d imagined for so many months. Looking ahead, the sight that greeted him was like one of the many paintings he’d seen back home of the greatest battles of ancient legend. Back when Laconians fought bloody, epic battles against the Medes. He checked the tactical overlay that was being projected inside his helmet. Signal traffic between the Terran units was substantial but proving effective. Every single unit from dekas sized squads right up through to tagmata were in contact and moving quickly to their respective fronts. He expected the main Terran effort to be ready for battle within twenty or thirty minutes.

  All I have to do now is to get Cyrus to calm down and wait! He mused.

  He sent a simple thought to his communications node and connected directly to his junior commanders. Each of the Dukas, including Proxenus, Kratez, Sophaenetus the Arcadian and Sosis, returned their current status and dispositions. Only Meno and Xenias were notable by their absence. Xenias was understandable. The last information he had was that the old Dukas had crash-landed inside the enemy compound and was trapped in a battle at the tower complex. His communications could have easily been damaged or jammed that close to the Emperor. After finally confirming their status, he turned his attention back to the primary battle zone around Cyrus. It was clear that although Cyrus had managed to bring enough of his troops to bear, he was having a hard time breaking through the outer defences. Meno had brought a number of troops, including some siege equipment, yet he was refusing contact. More ground troops from Xenias had arrived, and in that, he was thankful. Now in much smaller numbers, the Arcadians were, in his opinion, at least reliable and trustworthy. He was already regretting letting Meno and his Thessalians come on the operation. He instead connected directly to Cyrus.

  “Lord Cyrus, I need a full report on your operation.”

  “Clearchus?” came back a crackling voice, barely identifiable as being that of the Median commander. “When will you be here? I need protection for my flank.”

  Clearchus shook his head angrily.

  “Cyrus, please answer my question. What is your status?”

  It became even harder to understand Cyrus, as gunfire and explosions seemed to drown out much of the sound. The helmets built-in filtering tools delayed the sound long enough to perform as much error checking and repair work as it could. It sent the butchered results to him a second later.

  “Clearchus. Meno and his siege equipment are creating breaches, and more forces are already heavily engaged. On Meno’s advice, I will take the walls first.”

  Clearchus sighed with relief.

  Thank the Gods. Maybe Meno isn’t as much of an idiot as I thought.

  “Lord Cyrus, it is imperative that you do not push any further. Secure the walls and await my arrival. My reconnaissance drones show he has formidable gun emplacements and additional troops within the compound. The main buildings are also very heavily shielded. It will need to be taken room by room with heavy infantry. This is a job for the spatharii. Understood?”

  “Yes...yes!” answered Cyrus impatiently. “There is more, though. Tissaphernes has brought a large army, and it is heading for our right flank. I’ve despatched scouts, but they were eliminated just after sending their report. Scout drones show they are less than three kilometres from my position.”

  Clearchus looked to the tactical overlay and noticed the movement off to the top. It was a region that was being guarded by a large contingent of six thousand automatons. There was no reason why he needed to get involved. At the very least, Cyrus’ forces should be able to hold them off.

  The worst case is they would need help, but not yet.

  Right now, he wanted to get his best troops into action before the enemy had time to react.

  “That doesn’t matter, Cyrus. I will be on the ground in minutes, and we will take that wall. We’ll take care of Tissaphernes and his troops later.”

  “No, you don’t understand. They have brought up machines from the robotic domains, vast machines, as well as thousands of troops and hundreds of vehicles and legions of Mulacs. Most of them were already in hiding. That’s why they are not showing on your overlays. Here, add this to your tactical data. It is the latest data from my forward units.”

  Clearchus looked back to the overlay and tracked their progress. It appeared they were heading for a point that would split Cyrus off from the landing zones, but they were much further away than Cyrus was suggesting. The data attachment from Cyrus arrived, and he added it to the overlay. In an instant, the red colour that represented the enemy’s Northern forces increased to five times their size. Even more serious, there were a number of small units almost at the flank of the Citadel itself.

  “Gods! How did this happen?” he muttered involuntarily.

  If they succeed, the forces at the front will be trapped, and the Legion will be forced to defend the landing zones or risk being stuck here. I have to hold them back.

  Clearchus selected the commanders on the overlay and sent tactical commands to them directly. It was efficient, and they each acknowledged the change of plan in seconds without the need for voice communications. He thought of Cyrus and his troops stuck outside the Citadel.

  “Very well, Cyrus, maintain your current mission. Secure the walls and stabilise your flank. I have revised orders to the Boeotians, Arcadians and Megarans to assist you. They are bringing over four thousands Terrans to your aid. Proxenus, the commander of the Boeotian contingent will command them and help secure the outer section of the Citadel. He will take command of Meno and his forces upon his arrival.”

  A missile exploded nearby and sent shards of red-hot steel into the left flank of the dromon. A small number of holes appeared but luckily, none of the ammunition was able to penetrate the metal skin. Clearchus glanced at the damage and turned his attention back to the warriors inside the dromon. Kleandridas turned away from the damage and back to Clearchus. He’d been following the conversation with interest, and he looked unimpressed.

  “I’ve seen the reports from Cyrus. Can he take the walls without us? It will only be Proxenus and his combined forces trying to take the Citadel?”

  Clearchus nodded but was stopped from speaking by the sound of a dromon exploding nearby. It had been packed with dozens of Laconian spatharii, men and women that Clearchus knew individually. His heart felt heavy, but as always, the battle had to come first. A fighter screamed past them with thick black smoke trailing from its engines. It quickly lost control and spun upside, tumbling to the ground; he looked away and then back to his deputy.

  “Yes, it will be enough to take the walls, but Cyrus will need our Laconians to finish the job. My worry is that we need the ground troops to link up with Cyrus. By the time the rest
of Proxenus’ troops are in position, Tissaphernes will hit them. We need to smash him and fast. After the flank is stable, we will reinforce Meno and Proxenus at the Citadel for the final push.”

  Kleandridas nodded in agreement at this revised plan. Clearchus took a long breath, filling his lungs with air.

  “We have a small window of opportunity, and Tissaphernes is right where we want him. This isn’t the way I wanted it, but it could be to our advantage. Cyrus’ early attack has drawn out Tissaphernes. If he’d waited, we might have already been fully engaged. With one swift hammer blow, we will scatter his troops. Then we will return and explain to Cyrus how Laconians besiege cities.”

  Kleandridas grinned at this last comment. He’d fought in enough battles alongside Clearchus to know exactly what happened when Laconian heavy infantry were used, and it was anything but pretty.

  “I will coordinate our dromons for a combat insertion. We’ll be on the ground in less than a minute, two thousand, seven hundred spatharii and a thousand stratiotes. Tissaphernes will never know what has hit him!”

  As the commanders of the Laconians issued new orders, the force of dromons and their escorts broke away from their advance on the Citadel. The large formation split up into three separate divisions, with the bulk of the drones and fighter cover staying with the larger, central division that was led by Clearchus himself. One made directly for Tissaphernes and his massed forces, and the other two sped off to the flanks. Directly beneath them, moved the vanguard of the rest of the Legion. The fastest were the eight-wheeled armoured personnel carriers of the Arcadians. Behind them moved an array of tracked and wheeled vehicles, all bristling with weapons and covered in thick armour. Each contingent flew the colours of their respective regions, but the armour of the vehicles maintained the dull grey, consistent with the rest of the Legion. It was a great sledgehammer with one simple goal in mind, the reduction of the fortified Citadel. Clearchus and his airborne reinforcements were the scalpel, a force of almost four thousand warriors, and all being carried into battle by the large numbers of dromons.