“Whoever or whatever is in command, they will not go quietly.”
Xenophon clearly understood from the expression on his face.
“I know. That’s why we will hit them, and keep hitting them hard until they fall. Are you with me, Glaucon?”
There were no words, just a look that Xenophon had seen so many times in the past. It was the one that had got them into trouble all over Attica, and much more recently by joining the Legion. Glaucon did look back and point at the growing number of prisoners.
“What about them?”
Xenophon considered the options quickly, and for a brief moment contemplated the most awful of choices for prisoners. He might have chosen to torture a man for information, but he would not willingly kill prisoners, not unless it was the only chance he and his friends had for survival.
“They come with us. I want two guards, no more.”
Glaucon gave a quick signal, and two of the lighter armed stratiotes came forward. They were Arcadians, and though in similar attire to the Night Blades, they looked far more conventional. Both wore their dark grey Legion uniforms and light armour, and in their arms carried the long-barrelled Doru Mk II rifles. Xenophon nodded to the small group of manacled mercenaries.
“Watch them, and if one even considers trouble, you put a pulse round into their temple. Understood?”
Both men nodded in agreement. The large shape of Desma approached with one of the mercenaries in her vice-like grip. She pushed the figure in front of Xenophon, and Glaucon looked to her.
“You’re right. Their orders are just to slow us down; the others are heading for the bridge, to their commanders.”
Glaucon and Xenophon looked to each other.
“Commanders?” Xenophon asked.
Desma looked back into the ship, as though they might be right there in front of them.
“The Hooshang Brothers, this is their ship.”
The name meant nothing to Xenophon, but Glaucon looked as if he was at least vaguely familiar with them. He moved closer and lowered his voice.
“These are some of the mercenaries we met in Carduchia. They run a massive private outfit in the Empire.”
Xenophon was more surprised his friend knew of them, than of the actual specific details.
“What about them?” he asked.
Desma shrugged.
“That I do not know. The mercenaries say they are just one of many recruited by the Imperial agent.”
“Ariaeus,” said Xenophon, shaking his head, “The fool is financing a major force to combat us. He wants revenge for the defeats we’ve inflicted upon him. Come on, we need to hit them before we are surrounded.”
Desma pushed the mercenary away and towards the two stratiotes guards. The men grumbled at being landed with four of them, but Desma seemed little interested. She joined Xenophon and Glaucon on the top of the steps. The staircase expanded out into the grandest Royal Chamber any of them had ever seen. It was impossible to make out the ceiling; the ship was filled so deeply with complex architecture, archways, stonework, and more than two-dozen mercenaries. A pair of dark skinned, lightly armoured warriors lurked just behind the warriors. They looked very much like Hayastani nobility.
“Deploy, shield wall!” Glaucon ordered.
The Terrans moved into position with great speed and poise. The spatharii formed up in a loose line, and those with the two remaining generators behind them. The flickering shields gave them almost fifty percent coverage; the rest would be down to their helmets and body armour. Glaucon commanded from the centre, and Xenophon signalled for one dekas of Night Blades to go back to the steps. As they reached them, a volley of gunfire hit towards them. None were hit, but they were quickly scattered to cover on each side of the steps. They returned fire with accuracy and control, quickly pinning down their pursuers.
“Throw down your weapons, Terrans. You are surrounded.”
The voice came from one of the mercenaries in the Royal Chamber.
“Show your face,” Xenophon called out.
One of the lightly armoured mercenaries pushed through his line of warriors and removed his helm to show his face.
“I am Ramin.”
He then looked back and pointed to the other similarly dressed warrior.
“And this is my brother Bijan.”
Once introduced, the figure pointed to the Terrans.
“You have invaded sovereign territory and assaulted our forces at rest. This is not the act of a warrior, but of a pirate. Who leads this bands of terrorists?”
He looked at Xenophon with a wicked-looking smile. Xenophon stepped out from the shielded line and indicated for Desma to move with him. She kept her left arm butted against his body, but with her shield deactivated. In her right hand, and held down low, was her cut down Doru rifle. The gun was charged, loaded, and her finger resting alongside the main trigger. The only obstruction between the two sides was a low wall to the left, perhaps a metre high. A series of tall objects were displayed on both sides, each the height of a Taochian warrior and covered in glowing shapes. The mercenaries were on the widest of three steps that carried on deeper into the cavernous space. Something moved into the darkness, and Xenophon was sure he could see more warriors off in the flanks and in the shadows.
“”I am Xenophon, Dukas in the Black Legion and commander of this boarding party.”
A click to the side caught his attention. He checked with just his eyes, deliberately not wanting to move his head. It was only one of the spatharii slipping in a pulse round magazine. He continued speaking in the direction of the mercenaries.
“You and your people have blocked our progress and attacked us at will. We wish to leave the Empire. There is no need for further loss of life. Give the order to your forces to surrender, and this fight will be over.”
The one called Ramin began to laugh.
“Oh, this isn’t our fleet. If you want a surrender, you’ll need to speak to the money.”
Xenophon tilted his head a little to the right.
“You see we’ve already been paid a lifetime’s salary for this battle. Your words will not change our contract with Lord Ariaeus. Our transports have already taken our payment back to our base.”
He spread out his arms and extended his hands as though he was about to give a speech. Another dozen warriors came in from one of the many dark alcoves running along each side of the Chamber. The ship vibrated gently, but it was impossible to tell whether it was from the blasts outside, pieces of debris striking the ship, or the fighting going on inside.
“I have more than enough warriors to defend my prize. Try and kill me, and I promise you...”
“Very well,” Xenophon said, interrupting his speech.
Before any of them could react, he had lifted his right arm and activated the deadly Asgeirr-Carbine. It kicked three times, and two of the shots hit the mercenary directly in the face. A bright mist of blood followed the meaty thud of the pulse rounds, confirming the kill. He stumbled back, collapsing to the ground in a lifeless mess amongst his warriors.
“Ramin!” cried out his brother.
The distress and rage could not have been clearer. The Hayastani mercenary tried to reach the body, but four of his warriors dragged him back as both sides opened fire. The mixed weapons of the mercenaries were more powerful than the Terrans, but the energy shields gave them the advantage. The Night Blades vanished off into the flanks, and ever so quickly the entire bridge was aflame with gunfire.
“Xenophon, back here!” Glaucon shouted from the safety of the shield wall.
Desma was holding out her arm to keep her personal shield in front of both her and Xenophon. By the time they were back to the others, they had already been hit four times. Troops on both sides were now scattered and using furniture, sculptures, pillars, and doorways to engage in a slow and bloody gunfight.
“Can we hold?” Xenophon asked.
He spotted movement behind them, ducked down, and then fired a blast at the head
rising from the staircase. The mercenary stumbled back, but not before one of the spatharii was hit in the back from a powerful energy weapon. Xenophon looked to his friend.
“Glaucon, hold this place, and do not let them drive you back. I will hold the stairs.”
Glaucon turned back, aimed with his own weapon, and continued issuing orders. Only the spatharii were still out in the open, with all the Night Blades and stratiotes not with Xenophon now in cover.
“Forward, to the low wall!”
The spatharii edged forward, just a dozen warriors and a few shields to keep them safe. The mercenaries had increased in number to more than thirty, and their fire clattered about the Terrans like rain on a stormy day. Finally, they made it to the low wall, and projectiles immediately struck the tall multi-coloured obelisks.
“Hold them back.”
The spatharii put down suppressing fire on the mercenaries. Meanwhile, Xenophon and his dekas of Night Blades had dropped down five metres on the staircase. At this position they were safe from gunfire in the main chamber, but that didn’t help them against the growing number of mercenaries coming in from the rear. He blasted apart another of the enemy and then tapped his communications node.
“Roxana, do something, anything, and do it fast!”
* * *
Light Cruiser ‘Antaeus’, Fleet Assembly Point, Geghard Quadrant
Only one Elamite warship was still in the fight and was already surrounded by Terran battleships. Dromons swept in at high speed, the bewildering array of point defence turrets blazing away at their approach. Squadrons of Seafox fighters no longer had to protect the fleet and were moving in with the dromons to offer close escort to the boarding parties. One after the other the transports sent out their signals of surrender.
The interior of the light cruiser was as tense as it could be. Though a powerful ship, it was nothing compared to the monster just outside the main windows. Lady Artemas held her breath as she looked upon the Bactrian Grand Battleship. They were very close now, and each of the light cruisers in such a position they were effectively like a large ring around the forward third of the vessel. Gun ports showed the huge plasma cannons and weapons arrays for the devastatingly powerful heavy cutters. Yet as they moved alongside, not one of them opened fire.
“There, just to the left of where they boarded the ship.”
Roxana pointed to the section not far from the bow of the vessel. There was no sign of fighting, but the readings from both the ship and those inside marked out the zones occupied by Terran boarding parties and the large groups of mercenaries.
“Are you sure?” asked the Kentarchos.
Roxana licked her lips. There was no way to be one hundred percent certain. The Terrans were spread out and taking the ship section by section, but she knew the part of the fight that mattered was around Xenophon. In her communications node she could hear Xenophon calling out orders. Much worse for her was the sound of gunfire. It was clear he was in trouble.
“Help is coming,” she said and then turned to the Kentarchos.
“Do it.”
Kentarchos Cadmus was ever the professional. He lowered his head and looked back to his officers, each waiting for their orders.
“Take aim,” said the Kentarchos.
The guns along the port flank were already extended, and their energy capacitors fully charged and ready to fire.
“On my count. Fire one!”
The first battery opened up with a pulsed burst of low power plasma. The cruiser was capable of much more, but they had already decided to use the bare minimum of force. The energy slammed into the breaches in the hull and ripped through multiple compartments. As the second volley struck, she tapped her communications node.
“Xenophon, are you there? What’s your status?”
There was nothing for three seconds, but then came his familiar voice. She almost stumbled at the sound of him, half expecting her fire support to have been too close or too powerful.
“I’m here. There’s just one thing...”
Roxana felt her heart almost stop, wondering what he meant.
“Tell me.”
She spotted Lady Artemas watching. This wasn’t the time for the two of them to talk, but she knew the Median noble lady would want to know just as much as she did.
“Roxana. Light up those guns and keep firing. That is exactly what we need! Keep shooting.”
A smile grew across her face. She signalled over to Kentarchos Cadmus.
“The shots are on target. Light her up.”
The Kentarchos looked surprised.
“With how many batteries?”
Roxana pointed in the direction of the battleship.
“All of them. Hit them with everything we have.”
The cruiser opened fire with all of her port gun batteries, and the other three light cruisers did exactly the same. The gunfire was far from enough to cripple or critically damage the ship, but it was more than needed to kill or injure the defenders. In seconds, the battleship was lit up by hundreds of low power plasma projectiles.
CHAPTER FIVE
Bactrian Grand Battleship, Fleet Assembly Point, Geghard Quadrant
Time seemed to slow down as the mercenaries assaulted up the staircase. The wide open space gave no place to hide, so Xenophon and his dekas of warriors were forced to shelter behind the sculptures running up each flank.
Come on Roxana, open fire!
He could hear the reports as the officers under the command of Timasion had entered the ship from the underside. They were encountering fire, but clearly nothing to the level facing Xenophon’s forces.
Trust him to land far from the fighting. He will want a claim, but none of the fight.
As far as he was concerned, Timasion should have landed troops to support him. Instead it had fallen to a much smaller boarding party. Xenophon shook his head, clearing his thoughts from the man he found so pathetic. He looked down at the lower level. They were filled with gunfire, smoke, and dust that made it almost impossible to identify targets. A Night Blade took a round to the leg and dropped down. He tried to get back behind a sculpture, but a small anti-personnel rocket screamed overhead and struck the wall. The blast sent him stumbling to the stairs.
“Covering fire!”
Xenophon rushed out from cover to help pull the man back. The other Night Blades ignored the aimed fire and blasted away with everything they had. Pulse rounds smashed through the smoke, adding their own fury to the chaotic scene. Xenophon could hear the battle up on the bridge, but there was nothing he could do, not yet. A flash on the wall marked where a round had deflected and then struck Xenophon’s Corinthian helm. The impact was hard enough to spin him about. He stumbled and fell, landing right next to the wounded Night Blade.
Get up!
The sculptures on both sides of the staircase vanished in a series of incredible blue flashes. The bodies of several mercenaries disappeared; the energy exploded them as easily as a shotgun blast against a rat. Blood and bone splattered the wall, yet still the guns fired. The devastating fleet bombardment continued for twenty seconds, and then stopped as quickly as it had started.
“I’ve got you,” said a familiar voice.
The ground moved, and he found his arm dropped over the strong shoulder of Desma. They headed back to the top of the steps, the Night Blades following them, giving ground slowly and looking for signs of danger.
“If it moves, shoot it,” said Xenophon.
The Night Blades moved from cover and made their way up the staircase, or what remained of it. One by one, they looked back down at the shattered interior. Half of the steps were covered in rubble, and large chunks of stonework and metal were scattered about. At least a dozen mercenaries lay dead, with another handful crying out in pain. The rumble of heavy gunfire continued to shake the ship, but none of the guns were firing in close proximity to Xenophon, and that unnerved him.
“Cease fire,” Xenophon ordered over the communications node.
> “It’s already done,” replied Roxana.
Desma and Xenophon made it to the top and the scene of the massive battle. Glaucon and his squad were in cover off to the left. The stratiotes were spread from left to right, hiding behind cover and putting down fire on the small groups of mercenaries. Bodies littered the open ground, and he was sure he could see dead from both sides.
“Xenophon!” shrieked the remaining brother, upon seeing him emerge from the staircase.
Desma pushed him down and moved her arm in the way just as a fusillade of wild gunfire hit about them. Two rounds bounced from the shielding. A loud roar came from the left, and Bijan dropped to the ground, crying out in pain. The shots had come from near Glaucon, perhaps from his own hands. Xenophon spotted his friend stand up and point at the scattered mercenaries. Some were trying to pull back their wounded leader; others were rushing ahead in one last desperate rush.
“Advance!”
The order came from Glaucon, his words clear and loud over the din of battle. As one, the spatharii rose from cover and broke into a fast walk. Both of the shields were offline now, and the fight had turned to a mixture of close ranged guns and edged weapons. A spatharios went down from concentrated fire, and then both sides were embroiled in a mass melee.
“Night Blades, assault!” Xenophon shouted.
Though the Arcadian stratiotes were officially classed as light infantry, they were well trained and equipped for the brutality of close assault. They emerged from cover and raced across to give battle. Where the mercenaries were heavily armoured and slow, they were light, fast, and deadly. For every Terran cut down, five mercenaries were eliminated. In seconds, the fight turned until just a dozen of the enemy remained, and between them they dragged the wounded brother off to the far end where a grand throne waited.
“Stop them!” Xenophon called out.
Most of the guns had now fallen silent, but the mercenaries were already at the far end and past the throne. A great hissing sound filled the open space, and Xenophon found himself instinctively taking cover. The room began shaking as if hit by a minor earthquake, and then to everyone’s surprise, the entire wall behind the throne lifted up. Dust scattered, but immediately behind it sat a squat, glowing dome. It may have been solid, if it were not for the flicker of light when the first mercenary vanished inside. Xenophon lifted his right arm and fired. The projectiles bounced off the dome as easily as if it had been part of the ship’s shield.
The Eternal Fortress (Star Legions Book 6) Page 7
