“Xenias? You’ve not spoken. Speak.”
Xenias, the most wounded of the main command, looked unimpressed at any of the options.
“I don’t like any of this. I don’t trust these Medes any further than I can throw them. If we leave, we will go empty handed. I suggest we bargain, but from a position of strength. Until we leave, this planet is in danger, and we can use that.”
“What would you suggest we do instead, then?”
Xenias said no more. But Xenophon indicated he wanted to speak.
“Yes, Dekarchos. You’ve experience of the Medes and their ways. You have something to add?”
Xenophon swallowed, well aware of the precarious situation they were in. He might lack the speed of Artemas or the strength of Glaucon, but his great advantage came from his mental capacity. He’d always been a quick thinker, and he sensed great peril in this place.
“We need to leave, but as one. I suggest we forget treasure, loot or even food. We bring warships down into the atmosphere, those that are capable, and conduct a careful and secure withdrawal. There will be other times for plunder and loot.”
Clearchus nodded at his reply.
“Spoken like a true Attican citizen. How can I ask our forces to leave with nothing? Are you prepared to leave your woman behind?”
It was not the response Xenophon had hoped for, and for the first time, he felt hostility towards the famed Laconian commander.
“I suggest you join your comrades and prepare to leave. Artemas, you will stay with me for the duration of our negotiations. I will not take my heavy infantry away until I have something to show for it.”
He then turned to Xenias.
“I am placing the withdrawal in your hands. My junior commander, Komes Chirisophus will stay behind with his seven hundred spatharii. That should be more than adequate as a rearguard, don’t you think?”
The other commanders nodded, knowing that a number of Laconians like that could easily storm the Citadel against odds ten times their number, probably even more. Clearchus then spoke for a few moments though his command node. The response was almost instantaneous, as junior commanders redressed the ranks of the soldiers while others sent signals to the armoured units to pack up and leave. Sophaenetus and Kratez, two of the experienced Dukas, also left the main force to join Clearchus and the others. Between them, they represented the majority of the Legion. Clearchus looked to them.
“This is it, then. Dukas Xenias, I want you to complete the evacuation of our forces with haste. I want our troops packed and leaving within the next six hours.”
There was an audible gasp from the others at the suggestion. It was more reasonable to spend at least one or two days to conduct a full and thorough withdrawal, but six hours was barely enough time to leave with just the infantry.
“Use the heavy transports to bring back the armour and artillery. As for the troops, bring them all in here. Land the dromons right inside this Citadel. If the Medes try anything, we’ll be in the place to do the most good.”
Xenias nodded and turned to walk back to the assembled Legion. Clearchus turned on the steps, looking back at his army. They’d left with over ten thousand, and he suspected they had lost over a quarter already. Many of the losses had occurred with the destruction of Xenias’ Titan, but a good number more had occurred during the actual fighting on Cunaxa itself.
Clearchus, Proxenus, Meno, Sophaenetus and Kratez, five armoured and powerful figures, marched up the steps with a dozen Epilektoi, as well as Artemas, Xenophon and the rest of the senior commanders right behind them. As they continued onwards, they moved past unit after unit of Medes soldiers. Many of them were automatons, but there were also Terrans and Medes soldiers amongst their number. At the top the steps was a wide-open training area surrounded on three sides by tall marble columns. To the rear of this stood a grand entrance leading into the base of the largest spire. Flanking the entrance were six Taochi warriors. These great beasts wore the colours of Artaxerxes, and like most of their comrades, they carried edged weapons. Small groups of Medes warriors waited nearby, carrying either a rifle or carbine, and watching the Terrans carefully.
“Have you been here before?” asked Xenophon.
Artemas replied in hushed tones.
“Only once. This is where the Emperor resides when he is on this world.”
They approached the doorway, and the Taochi reluctantly stepped aside. Clearchus moved ahead, and the form of Tissaphernes appeared in the middle.
“Good, I see you have chosen the commonsense option.”
He then spotted Artemas and her guard.
“Uh, who is this?”
Xenophon thought he was looking at Artemas, but then realised he was actually looking directly at him. Clearchus moved his head slightly and could see where Tissaphernes was watching.
“That is Dekarchos Xenophon. He was charged by Cyrus to protect his niece.”
“Really,” replied Tissaphernes, with venom in his voice.
He took a step closer, but Xenophon blocked his path and lifted his right hand, brandishing his Asgeirr-Carbine. Tissaphernes simply smiled, turned and continued walking ahead of the group inside the base of the spire. In the centre of the great structure stood a glass elevator. The width of the massive spire was as large as some interior rooms. Tissaphernes had already reached it and stepped inside. Ariaeus stood alongside him plus two of the Anusiyan guards. Arkeisios the Zacynthian was also there with his pulse carbine held across his stomach. Clearchus and the others stepped into the elevator and waited in front of their enemy. None of them said a word as the group moved up the open space and towards the top of the structure. There were no floors, just lavish walls, devoid of windows or any other useful distractions. The transparent elevator stopped as it reached the high level. The door opened and out walked Tissaphernes, followed by the others. The walls sloped to a point directly above them, and the only one different to the four walls extended into a small tunnel that led to the side of a massive chamber. The walls in this section were filled with statues, artwork and artefacts from hundreds of worlds, some of which were certainly Terran of origin. In the centre of the room stood a great oval table, surrounded by two-dozen stone chairs. They looked as if they’d been cut from a single piece of granite. Tissaphernes beckoned for them to sit.
“Please, the Great King will join us shortly.”
The Dukas moved into position with only Xenophon, Artemas and Clearchus staying on their feet. Kleandridas did neither. Instead, he walked around the room, checking for sighs of danger to his commander and the Dukas.
Tissaphernes shook his head and sat on the other side of the table with Ariaeus and Arkeisios at his side. Clearchus looked all around the spacious room and directly upwards, but there was nothing in this place other than valuables, probably looted over the centuries, perhaps even millennia. The room was at least the size of a standard training hall, and as best as he could tell, it was suspended between four of the largest spires. There were large hexagonal windows cut into the walls on all sides, giving a perfect view of both the Citadel and the city. Columns of smoke continued to rise. The shapes of a dozen Terran heavy landers could just be made out in the city suburbs as they landed to take away the armour and troops still in position in the outlying parts of the city. A message appeared on his overlay. It was discreet, and nobody other than him would know. He glanced at it briefly.
Pleistoanax, good, I was wondering when I’d hear from you.
It was a short message, but the information was vital. His deputy had already deployed landers to the surface and confirmed that so far, he had recovered twelve percent of the Legion’s forces. Apparently, he’d requisitioned the landers used by Cyrus to speed up the process. Anything damaged or unusable, he’d set for demolition. By all accounts, they were ahead of schedule. Clearchus sent a short reply back to continue the evacuation and to coordinate directly with Dukas Xenias. He was waiting at the Citadel. Satisfied his message was received, he moved back
to the Median commander.
“Where is he? If your King will not show his face, then we will walk.”
The door on the opposite side of the room hissed open, and in walked a dozen Anusiyan guards. They marched in, two abreast, fanning out to form a wide wall of guards. Behind then came the shapes of several tall figures, dressed in exquisite golden armour, flowing cloaks and tall helms. Xenophon looked at Artemas. She was also watching and spoke quietly.
“Artaxerxes?”
* * *
Glaucon and Roxana had been searching the rubble and ruins outside the Citadel walls for fifteen minutes now, and still there was no sign of Tamara. Only a handful of the Night Blades had joined them. The rest were busy loading wounded warriors onto the constant stream of dromons leaving both sides of the Citadel walls. With the Medes soldiers now gone, it was just the Terran troops left, and they were more efficient and orderly than even the best Medes soldiers.
“Glaucon?” called out a voice above them.
They looked up to see a group of Night Blades, each with rifles and lying prone amongst the rubble and debris. They had their weapons trained on the Citadel buildings, though for what reason it wasn’t clear.
“Tamara, what are you doing still here?” asked Roxana.
She lowered her rifle and looked down.
“There’s something going on up there. We were helping move some of the wounded when Kantos spotted machines from the robotic domains near the spires.”
“What? Where?” Glaucon asked.
Tamara pointed to the structures in the distance; specifically a series of four mighty towers, surrounding what looked like a great metallic eye, the size of a small spacecraft. On the top of each of the spires were metal shapes. Only by watching them for several seconds was it clear that they were even moving, so slow and careful was their advance. Their size and position made them look as much a part of the peaks of the Citadel as machines.
“Uh, isn’t that where Clearchus and the others are?” asked Roxana.
Glaucon nodded and said nothing, but Roxana reacted instantly and connected directly to the staff of Xenias. As she waited, she looked back to the spires.
“They must have been up there right from the start of the battle. I don’t like this.”
“This is Dekarchos Roxana Devereux. We’ve detected possible hostiles in the vicinity of Clearchus and the command staff within the Citadel. At least twenty machines, possible combat drones, and they are moving around the spires. Please advise.”
There was a pause. She could hear the sound of people talking, and the booming voice of the Dukas appeared.
“Dekarchos Devereux. I see the targets, any idea what they are?”
“Machines, Sir. My unit thinks they might be machines from the robotic domains. I’ve seen similar models before. They looked a little like combat drones to me, and they are moving slowly enough our scanners won’t pick up their movement. If it’s true, they might be moving in to trap the Strategos.”
“Good work, Dekarchos. I’ll deal with this myself. Get your unit out of there!”
With that, he was gone. The small group were now alone and outside the walls.
“So that’s it? What about Xenophon and Artemas? Aren’t they going up to meet with the Emperor there?” Glaucon asked.
Roxana nodded and wiped dirt from her face. A heavily armoured dromon with Laconian markings had just landed nearby. No sooner as it hit the ground did a small group jump out to check for survivors. While waiting, a small groups of warriors clambered aboard. She looked at the vessel and back to the others.
“Wait, I have an idea. Glaucon, help them down. We need to get on that boat! We aren’t leaving without Xenophon.”
* * *
Xenophon moved back a pace and pushed his left hand in front of Artemas. It was a simple but clear signal that he was suspicious of what was happening. The group of warriors had deployed in front of them, with the golden figures of the Median nobility moving in behind them. There was something unsettling, and he couldn’t quite put his finger on it. The other Terrans watched suspiciously, expecting something to happen. It would of course be suicidal for the Medes. With the best and strongest Terrans in this room, they could easily overpower fifty Medes warriors.
“Good day, gentlemen,” said a smooth voice from the back of the group.
The Medes warriors separated to reveal those in the middle. Four golden clothed nobles carried an object between them. It was sculpted from a glazed metal, of a sort even Xenophon was unfamiliar with. It was almost a metre tall and shaped like a miniature altar. They lowered it to the ground and stepped back. An almost perfect three-dimensional representation of Artaxerxes appeared.
“I welcome you to one of my Imperial palaces,” he said, in the same voice as they heard when the group had arrived.
Clearchus took three paces forward so that he was stood just two metres from the guards. He turned, pointing to Tissaphernes.
“You said we would be negotiating terms with the Emperor himself, not some artificial representation. Where is he?”
Tissaphernes said nothing, and a gentle chuckle came from the model.
“Dukas Clearchus,” he started, deliberately choosing to avoid his official title within the Legion, “why would you think I was on this planet? Do you think me stupid enough to position myself in such a way that I would be left exposed and vulnerable? No, Cunaxa was always going to be the trap, and the end of the road if you will, for my dear brother.”
The other Terrans stood up, with the sole exception of Meno who seemed perfectly satisfied with what was going on. Xenophon had moved with Artemas away from the table and in the opposite direction to the Emperor’s image.
“Artemas, my dear,” he said, instantly forcing Xenophon to stop his progress. She looked at him, refusing to speak.
“Come now...there is a place here, even for you.”
“Never!” she spat out, and Xenophon had to hold her tightly to stop her pushing forward. It would have been a useless gesture, with the Emperor not even present in any meaningful way.
“I see. Well, that matters not to me.”
He then extended his arms and gestured to the table.
“I understand that my loyal Satrap, Tissaphernes, has already discussed some of my proposals with you? Let us sit and discuss them.”
Clearchus refused to move.
“What about my people? There is no discussion until this is resolved.”
Artaxerxes smiled.
“All Terrans are free to leave. If you look outside, you will see that I have already assigned automatons to assist in the loading of your vessels. Believe me, Clearchus. I have no interest in keeping you here any longer than is necessary.”
“And what if we decide we want to stay?” said an angry sounding Proxenus.
“Ah, you I do not know,” replied Artaxerxes, returning his gaze to the Terran leader.
“If for any reason your forces decide to stay, then I am afraid I will be forced to bring in my primary fleet.”
Xenophon looked to Clearchus for a sign. Instead, the Terran’s face was hard and emotionless as the Emperor continued to speak.
“Yes, I am sorry to say that the forces you engaged here were merely local forces, with some Terran mercenaries thrown in for a bit of colour. I will be arriving soon and with over a thousand ships. I will, of course, concede that there is no possibility of my ground troops beating your warriors in a fair fight. Instead, I will surround and destroy your little fleet, and then simply starve or bombard your troops still here. To be brutally honest, I haven’t really decided yet.”
Clearchus’ overlay unit displayed a notification of an emergency transmission from the orbiting ships. It was Pleistoanax, and his voice was almost in a panic, something very unexpected for a professional Laconian soldier.
“Strategos, you will not believe this. Two fleets have just arrived; we are counting nearly a thousand ships of different classes. They are close, and I expect they will
be here within the hour. There are over a dozen super-battleships, all with the markings of the Emperor. ”
Clearchus held his breath, trying his best not to give anything away to those present, especially the Medes that were watching his every move. He activated the communications node and sent his deputy a simple and clear message.
“Get everybody off this world in the next fifteen minutes. Abandon or destroy anything you can’t take. We are out of time.”
Kleandridas nodded with a movement that was barely discernible and moved off to the side of the room, acting as though he was still looking for traps or other signs of danger to his commander. Clearchus looked back to the Emperor, but it was clear the enemy leader was well aware of what was happening. He gave Clearchus a look that told him exactly who was in charge of the current situation, and it sent a shiver down his spine.
“Now, let us discuss some of your options.”
Clearchus moved back and made to sit sat back down, though with great care.
“We will not serve the Empire, in any capacity. All we have to discuss is how to get my people out of your territory with the least consequences for your own people. You are well aware I can order my Legion to sack any territory I point them at. They answer directly to me.”
At the same time, he sent a mental command to his communications node in his helmet. All of those present, including Xenophon, knew exactly what he had heard. He told them to prepare to leave quickly due to the imminent arrival of the fleet. Xenophon however was having none of it, and instead, tapped his left hand to check it was loaded with ammunition. He looked to Clearchus and then directed his eyes to the doorway behind him, leading back into the spire elevator. Clearchus nodded, but before he could react, Meno stood up and pointed directly at him.
“Now!”
With a crashing sound, the shapes of a four robotic combat drones tore their way through the roof and dropped down amongst those inside. These were the large, armoured models they’d all fought so many times before and were bristling with blades and other weapons. As soon as they hit the ground, Tissaphernes dashed through the nearest archway and only stopped when safely behind armed warriors. Two of the machines blocked the path behind him and turned to face the Terrans now trapped inside. The Emperor started to laugh, his voice distorting with evident malevolent pleasure at their predicament.
Black Legion - The First Trilogy Page 73
