The Eternal Fortress (Star Legions Book 6)

by Michael G. Thomas

  A grunt from one of the fighters caught his eye before he continued speaking.

  “The only reason he has for coming back is for his share of the loot. If he fails, we’ll be forced to make one last emergency jump. And then what?”

  Glaucon looked to the mock battle before them and tried to forget the troubles of the fleet. This was the first break any of them had had since capturing the fleet at the Fleet Assembly Point in the Geghard Quadrant, and it was a good opportunity to see the warriors under the command of the mysterious Kallinos.

  “I assumed they would be, well...” started Glaucon.

  Xenophon looked at him and laughed.

  “What?”

  Glaucon just shook his head and looked back to the fight.

  “More alien!”

  Xenophon almost choked with amusement. Most Terrans had a much better, or certainly more liberal attitude towards those born in the Ionian Territories. This swathe of space covered the border between open space and that of the Median Empire, and in the past only the ancestors of the Medes had lived in the entire sector. But in the last half a millennia there had been much immigration, some of it intentional, the rest due to the taking of slaves or long-term trade.

  “Ionia is not exactly that far away, you know? Hell, there are as many Terran worlds on the Median side of the border as there are in the old Alliance. You can thank Achilleus and the rest for that.”

  It was the first time in months that Xenophon had mentioned those great characters from the old Terran histories. A time when Terran mercenaries had spent a decade besieging the ancient, almost mythical world of Illium and though it was now Median again, there were still hundreds of thousands of Terrans living under the Median yoke.

  “I don’t know. Only Chirisophus would think putting us in a fight together would somehow mend bridges. They are mercs, just like us. As long as they get paid, they will be happy.”

  Glaucon shrugged and focussed his attention on where one of the Terrans had just fallen. It was an older man, perhaps in his late forties and with whip marks all down his back. Like all of them, he was stripped down to just his training kit, bare from the waist up. A mercenary moved in close and spun about, quickly throwing the man flat on his back.

  “They are fast, much faster than us,” said Glaucon.

  “True, but our people are resourceful. Just watch them.”

  In the middle of the fight was a knot of the largest and strongest Terrans. Their hands were padded with straps, but other than that, they were all completely unprotected. Six of the alien fighters came in close and exchanged blows, and although they landed the majority, not one Terran fell. The rest of Kallinos’ mercenaries were spread out on the flanks, trying to isolate the Legion fighters.

  “Watch Desma,” said Xenophon.

  Glaucon turned his attention to the large woman who had just beaten aside the punches from a much broader-looking male. Another, a dark skinned fighter with hair that ran down to his shoulder jumped ahead. His comrades tried to assist, but two were beaten aside. The first ignored his lack of support and moved on to strike the Terrans. One of the alien warriors went a little too close and into uppercut distance.

  “Here it comes,” said Xenophon.

  Desma had taken position in the middle of the group, directly into the approach of the mercenaries. She ducked to the right only a fraction, and then delivered an explosive attack. It was a single powerful punch, and she struck her foe under the chin. The impact could be heard throughout the hall and seemed to lift him from the ground. He stayed airborne for what felt like minutes, and then hit the ground hard, knocked out cold. A series of claps and cheers echoed all around.

  “Close up!” Desma shouted.

  Until now the other warriors had been listening to several of their number. But having seen the effectiveness of Desma, they flooded around her. A chorus of laughter erupted from nearby, and both of them had to lift themselves a little to see where four fighters had broken from the group. Two of them had a Terran on the ground and were forcing the man down. The rules of the melee were simple; a warrior was out either through knockout or from submission. Try as he might, the Terran could not move and began to raise his one free arm to submit.

  “No! Fight it!” yelled a familiar voice.

  A red-haired figure leapt out and kicked one of the Ionians in the face. Blood sprayed out from the impact, and the unfortunate soul stumbled backwards. She chased after him while shouting at the fallen Terran.

  “On your feet!”

  The man rolled about on the ground, groaning and gasping for air. Though he was now free, the force on his body and throat still made it difficult for him to move. Tamara jumped up and locked her legs around the wounded Ionian’s upper body, spun him about, and then both crashed to the floor.

  “Help her!” Xenophon shouted.

  The second Ionian was already on her and struck her back with his elbow. The blow caused her to cry out, and he took that as an opportunity to move in closer. Though clearly in pain, she wasted no chance to kick out and struck him firmly in the stomach.

  “Desma!” Xenophon hollered.

  He’d already risen to his feet, and Glaucon had to hold him back. Desma must have heard him call out because she chose that moment to look away. A nearby Ionian seized the opportunity and rushed in to shoulder barge her. The impact was hard, and both fell to the floor in a heap of sweat-covered bodies. Desma took a blow to the face and chest before rolling him over and climbed on top of him.

  “Enough!”

  The booming voice might just as easily have been enhanced with amplification. The sound was as loud as the shouting and cheering, yet even those busy fighting managed to hear and quickly stopped. The only ones still moving were Tamara and the two other Ionians. At some point they had separated, but now the two larger figures had moved apart and were circling her warily.

  “Come on, what are you waiting for?”

  Instead of waiting, the young woman hurled herself at the larger of the two. The Ionian laughed in surprise, and then she was in front of him. His first kick missed, so he sidestepped, avoided Tamara’s punches, and then struck her in the face. It was a hard impact, and Tamara staggered back, blood running from her mouth. She licked her lips and then spat on the floor.

  “Now you’re in trouble.”

  The second Ionian reached her from behind and tackled her with a lunge. They fell to the ground, but Tamara wriggled free, twisted about, and kicked at his face. The shouting and excitement had now reached a crescendo. Chirisophus moved to the edge of the arena and called out again, his voice reaching every corner of the open space.

  “I said that is enough!”

  Tamara looked at her opponents and then to the Strategos. She clearly wanted to continue the fight even though the blood dripping out of her mouth seemed to have increased. She spat another globule to the ground, and one of the Ionians took a step closer. Kallinos appeared from a position near Chirisophus and snapped out a single word. The response was as though a switch had been pressed. As one, the Ionians still on their feet lowered themselves in a bow towards Kallinos. The Terrans meanwhile regrouped but offered no form of subservience to their elected leader.

  “Brothers and sisters of the Legion, we have just received news. Timasion has returned.”

  A murmur spread, but there was no sign of great excitement, not yet. The large double doors opened and in filed four of Timasion’s spatharii. As usual, they were all immaculately dressed, their polished armour resting atop their Legion uniforms. They were crests and cloaks in clear imitation of the Laconians, something Chirisophus was probably most amused by.

  “Here he comes,” said Xenophon.

  Timasion entered as though expecting some kind of great honour, but one of the Thespians said something that was quickly followed by a chorus of laughter. A few Arcadians made some disparaging remarks, and the laughter increased. Timasion ignored them, walked through the centre of the arena, and stopped in front of Chir
isophus.

  “My Lord.”

  He bowed, but in such an extravagant fashion, it might have as easily been a curtsy.

  “Report,” said the Strategos.

  “We have dealt with three transport convoys and have found one that is interested in what we have to sell.”

  His voice was quiet, and Chirisophus lifted his hands, encouraging him to speak louder.

  “This is important news, Timasion. Let the entire hall hear you.”

  Timasion sighed quietly, turned to face the assembled officer, and then continued.

  “The Phrygian traders are on their way back from the new colonies of Phoenicia. They bring with them goods, including food and unprocessed fuel.”

  “How much?” Dukas Xenias asked loudly.

  Timasion looked to the senior officer and acknowledged him.

  “The convoy is over a hundred ships, with a dozen escorts. They also have three super tankers, each carrying enough fuel for our entire fleet. They can provision us to the edge of the Taochian territories and the border.”

  The mention of the edge of Taochian space caught so many of the Terrans’ attention. It wasn’t that they were excited at the prospect of crossing yet another region, it was that this would mark the end of Median territory. That, for a Terran was a return to open space, the vast openness that fell under no great powers’ control. This area included many trading posts, areas where the Legion could sell off their wares, loot, and slaves in exchange for great wealth. There was a word for this almost indefinable region, and Xenophon could already hear a few of them muttering it.

  “Thalatta.”

  Xenophon looked for the one speaking, but another continued the word, and soon it was spreading like a disease through the training hall. Several of the Komes began to argue, but Chirisophus lifted his hands for silence.

  “Enough. There is little time to think of Thalatta or anything else but getting out of this rat infested Empire.”

  He looked back to Timasion who seemed to be greatly enjoying all the attention.

  “And what about payment, Timasion? Did you discuss terms?”

  Timasion nodded.

  “Yes, my Lord, the Phrygians need labour. They have more than enough currency, but manpower is worth more than gold, fuel, or guns.”

  Chirisophus was clearly making a point. By having the officers in one place, he was confirming his position of authority, as well as giving the men and women of the Legion the illusion of involvement. He pointed to each of the Dukas that were visible.

  “Dukas of the Legion, I seek your wisdom. But first, Timasion, what is your suggestion? Based upon what you have seen.”

  Again the man bowed before speaking.

  “My Lord. The Phrygians trade with the Medes, the Chanani, and the Romani, as well as our own Terran worlds. Their escorts are powerful, but by my assessment, we could take them by force.”

  He looked over to Xenophon and back to the Strategos.

  “They offered us something else as well. Something we cannot just obtain with money.”

  “Really? What is that?”

  The many officers listened intently to this last part. As always, there was a catch, something that would make their lives more difficult.

  “The Phrygians say the final border of the Shattered Systems is equipped with a vast jump disruptor network. There is only way through the net, and it requires ships to pass close to a Median customs gate. They describe it much like the Cilician Gates, a strong trade point where the Imperials can monitor travel through the Empire.”

  Xenophon looked to Glaucon.

  “Cilicia. You remember what that was like?”

  He hardly needed to ask the question.

  “Of course. That, combined with Cunaxa, is more than enough ground combat for me. Hell, that’s enough for a lifetime.”

  Timasion paused for effect, at least that was how it seemed.

  “This place is monitored by a world known by them as the Eternal Fortress. Transit taxes must be paid before any vessel can pass.”

  The murmur of dissatisfaction became louder still at the mention of taxes, especially those inflicted by foreigners on their ill-gotten gains. If there were anything the free thinkers and warriors of Terra hated more than anything, it was taxes.

  “To hell with taxes!” said one Komes.

  A mutter of agreement followed and then a great eruption of laughter.

  “If the Medes want to tax me, they are welcome to try,” added an Arcadian.

  Timasion used that as his opportunity to move to his next point.

  “Strategos, they will give us the details of the Fortress, for a price. They say they can show us its weaknesses and its strengths.”

  Kallinos walked across the arena and stopped beside the much smarter dressed Timasion. She was clearly a hardened warrior, something the impeccable clothing and mannerisms would never demonstrate for Timasion.

  “I have heard of the Fortress. The Terran is correct. It is rumoured to be death to all ships that come near it.”

  Chirisophus rose to his feet and walked closer to Kallinos. He wasn’t rude, but there was something about him that seemed off. He looked at her, starting at her feet and then working his way up to her face.

  “Tell me more of this Eternal Fortress.”

  He looked to his audience of Terran and roared with laughter.

  “I’ve come across nothing in this bloated Empire worth of the name Eternal. Have any of you?”

  The laughter was contagious, and even Glaucon found himself joining in, but Xenophon was far too busy watching Timasion. The Terran had turned to look at him, and he was sure there was amusement, perhaps even pleasure showing on his face.

  What is he up to?

  Kallinos stepped towards the Strategos and then reached down to her thighs. Immediately, the Laconian bodyguards rushed out with their blades extended. Even Chirisophus activated his personal shield on his left arm. The shimmering field created a powerful oval shape in front of him, but Kallinos pulled out two small objects. Before the Terrans could reach it, she held them up and light flashed between them. The light changed to show an image.

  “This was my previous flagship.”

  The guards reached her, but Chirisophus waved them back. He deactivated his shield and looked sheepishly at the mercenary. Luckily for him, she acted as though nothing had happened.

  “Nine months ago one of my junior officers took a bribe on one of my ships. The fool left our formation and tried to make it out of the Empire, right under the noses of this so-called Fortress.”

  There was silence in the hall, especially as each of them could clearly see the vessel was a variant of the standard Elamite battleships. There were changes, but this was no local escort; it was a powerful and heavily armoured ship of the line.

  “Well?” Chirisophus asked.

  “The last we heard was a mayday and then a partial evacuation order. My officers believe the ship was destroyed in less than sixty seconds.”

  She looked to the rest of the Terrans.

  “I would advise keeping the fleet well away, not unless you want to see your ships burned. My corsairs never travel through the Shattered Domains. The Taochi are...unpredictable. There is no order out there. It is a dangerous sector.”

  Timasion laughed at her.

  “Really? You are scared of the brutal Taochi? What would you suggest instead? We divert through the much larger Robotic Domains? They will attack us on sight, their programming will give them little other choice.”

  Kallinos shook her head and spoke several words in her own tongue before continuing in the common Terran language.

  “Stupidity is the virtue of the fool. I would recommend intelligence. Make the trade and obtain information on the Taochi, their trade routes, and this Fortress.”

  Xenophon leaned in close to Glaucon.

  “I have to say something.”

  He lifted himself up and instantly felt a pang in his left leg. He’d forgotten how
long he’d been sitting down, but it made him feel slow and old. He straightened his back and then caught the eye of the Strategos.

  “Strategos Chirisophus. I recommend we make this trade with the Phrygians, and then use the information to make a detailed plan. Clearly, we will need to be careful to leave the Shattered Systems without sustaining heavy losses.”

  Timasion scowled and used his closer proximity to the Strategos to block off Xenophon.

  “My Lord. I will be happy to lead an advance party to prepare the way for our forces. When the route is secure, the fleet will follow and on to open space, and its rewards.”

  Xenophon cleared his throat.

  “Perhaps before we start making plans, we should meet with these Phrygians and get local intelligence.”

  Chirisophus nodded contentedly as the two men made their arguments. He looked as if he was going to speak again, but noise from off into the distance distracted him. As he watched, a shape appeared far off between two columns. The shape moved aside, and Lady Artemas appeared. She must have been waiting in the shadows because this was the first he’d seen of her. Lady Artemas’ clothing was as always, impeccable, glamorous, and formfitting. She moved with the grace and precision never seen among the Terrans, something closer to a dancer than a warrior.

  “Lady Artemas, it is good of you to join us,” he said.

  She finally arrived next to Timasion. He seemed flustered at her arrival. To Chirisophus’ approval, she lowered herself on one knee before he spoke again.

  “I see you have recovered well.”

  “Thank you, Strategos. The medical skill amongst the Legion is incredible, a testament to their knowledge and ability.”

  Chirisophus looked at her with a polite expression.

  “To what purpose are you here?”

  Artemas looked to Timasion, and then back to him.

  “I have heard enough. Perhaps you would like to hear my own counsel?”

  Chirisophus opened his mouth, paused, and then spoke. It was as if he had intended on saying something, but at the very last moment had found himself with a change of heart. He used his hand to indicate for her to speak.