Black Legion: Gates of Cilicia

by Michael G. Thomas

  “A lot of money. At some point, we both will want to head back to Attica, and I’m not doing that without a couple of bodyguards.”

  Tamara chortled to herself, apparently not in the slightest bothered that the others could hear her. She looked up to see Roxana, Xenophon and Glaucon staring at her with a stoic line of serious faces.

  “What?” she asked innocently.

  “You think our situation is funny?” asked Xenophon.

  Tamara straightened her back and was about to speak but was interrupted by the loudspeakers.

  “Docking procedure started, please remain in your seats,” said the dull voice. Tamara looked back at them, each awaiting her answer.

  “Look, I thought your world was supposed to be this glowing beacon of democracy and tranquillity. Hell, half the people I know keep telling me how they wish the Alliance would be reformed as it was. They are all desperate to reconnect with the old mother country.”

  “Yeah, well, it’s not like that anymore,” said Glaucon bitterly.

  Xenophon, however, leaned forward.

  “Tamara, they might think that, but in reality, Attica was never a place of tranquillity. Democracy can be dangerous, and our form put a lot of power into the hands of the citizens. They are fickle and volatile, quick to anger and vicious when pushed.”

  Tamara nodded, noting the passion with which both men spoke. It was clear the trouble on Attica were more than just a simple, local problem. Neither really wanted to be on the transport, and it was just as likely they had no real interest in being mercenaries.

  Maybe we have more in common than I thought.

  A loud crunch followed by several bursts of gas, probably steam, erupted from the ceiling pipes. Tamara looked worried, but Roxana placed her hand on the girl’s shoulder and spoke quietly.

  “Don’t worry, it happens quite often. A landing on a ship producing a gravity field this strong can put a lot of strain on the vessel as it lands. It isn’t like the old days of zero-gravity in ships.”

  Red lights flashed along the one door near the first airlock seal. Several more thuds and blasts of steam poured from various parts of the transport, but after Roxana’s explanation, they seemed unperturbed. The lights increased in tempo until staying fixed. A loud hiss erupted around the frame, and the airlock itself opened to a cloud of vapour. It took several seconds to clear before revealing the secondary airlock that was already opened. The speakers voiced one final message.

  “You may now leave. Please check you have removed your personal items. All transports will be leaving in four hours.”

  Xenophon released his strap and stood up. He stretched and grabbed his small bag containing all his remaining possessions. Several passengers moved to the airlock, and he fell in behind them. Glaucon followed, and several more passengers arrived, forcing the rest of their group to the back. It didn’t take long to move through the narrow doorway and into the landing bay inside the ship. Xenophon emerged from the door and stepped onto the solid floor. The bay itself was unlike anything he had ever seen before. It looked more like a giant cave than the bays he’d seen on other ships. He glanced back to find Glaucon stood staring at the same. The rest of the passengers continued past them both.

  “Have you ever seen anything like it?” asked Glaucon.

  Xenophon shook his head. The walls were rough in finish, but he knew this was a side effect of the hardened material used in its construction. A dozen transports, each of similar size to the one they had landed in, were laid out in a loose line. Scores of new arrivals moved out in long columns and made their way to what looked like a large security checkpoint. A group of half a dozen potential recruits walked behind them and back onto the ship. They looked bruised and tired as if they had just emerged from some gruelling ordeal. Roxana and Tamara reached them both and tried to get them to move.

  “Come on, we need to get through clearance. Apparently, they are turning some away.”

  “What?” asked Glaucon.

  “The one guy, him over there,” said Tamara as she pointed to the man in question. “He said they wouldn’t take him because he’s on a security risk list.”

  “That’s just great. What are the chances we’re on it?” muttered Xenophon.

  “Let’s go and find out. Either way, our transport is leaving soon. We need to know, one way or the other.”

  They moved away from the transport and joined the large queue of prospective mercenaries. It was a good opportunity to examine the interior of the mighty ship. The Titans were famous, not just for their rarity, but also their ability to operate as self-contained fleets. There were not just transports in this part of the ship. There were over thirty heavy fighters as well as landing craft, gunships and bombers. It was a veritable mobile fortress.

  “Where are you from?” asked a scruffy woman. She must have been in her late twenties and wore a pair of well-worn overalls. Her accent was thick, nothing like the gentlemanly voices of Glaucon and Xenophon.

  “Uh, Attica, you?” answered Xenophon, unsure as to the reasoning behind her question.

  “Ah, Alliance mercs then. We’ve got a couple of yours with us. I reckon we’ve got volunteers from every Terran system. You joining the infantry?” she asked.

  Xenophon glanced to Glaucon, and he just shrugged. Xenophon sighed at his friend’s complete lack of help. He looked back to her.

  “We don’t really know. I guess we’ll find out soon enough.”

  The queue was moving quickly, and from where they were stood, it was very clear that prospective mercenaries were being split into two main groups. Xenophon tried to determine what each group had in common, but it was very clear.

  “You thinking what I’m thinking?” asked Roxana.

  “The groups?” asked Glaucon, also concerned at what was happening.

  There was no more time to discuss it further as they were now at the security point. The guards were not regular military, but they were armed with a variety of heavy weapons. A man with the mark of a sergeant approached.

  “You all signing up together?” he asked as he glanced at the group of four.

  Xenophon nodded.

  “Yes, Sergeant, we’re looking for mercenary work in the expedition.”

  “No Sergeant here, son. I’m a Dekarchos in this operation. Now, do any of you have experience with the heavy infantry?” he asked, giving special attention to Glaucon who was undoubtedly the largest of the group.

  “No, most of our experience is with the Alliance Navy,” explained Roxana.

  “Alliance, huh? Well, I guess that means no to the heavies. We don’t need any more crew or technical staff. Right now, we’re looking for heavy infantry and a small number of skirmishers, light infantry and support troops. Interested?”

  Xenophon glanced back to the other three, but they clearly had no problem with his offer. He looked back to the Dekarchos and nodded.

  “Good, take the door to the right and drop your gear off. You’ll be issued with fatigues and prepped for your selection.”

  “Selection, I thought you’d given us the options?” asked Tamara.

  “Options? You misunderstand, Miss. We choose where to send you, and right now we don’t know what you have to offer. The transports leave in four hours. Before that, you’ll know if you’re staying or leaving. Dukas Xenias is looking for bodies to fill out his two thousand troops, and more than anything, we need front-line combat troops. If you can’t use a blade or fire a weapon, then we can’t use you, understood?”

  Tamara nodded, but there was a look of doubt on her face.

  CHAPTER NINE

  Arcadian Titan ‘Olympia’, Median space

  Xenophon moved to the door and glanced over his shoulder to spot the others moving slowly behind him. Out of all of them, Tamara looked the most concerned. Once through the door, they entered a narrow corridor that was filled with at least fifty other recruits. Each of them looked as bewildered as themselves. A faint voice much further inside shouted out towards
them, but it was too muffled to hear clearly. Luckily, they were moving at a walking pace and covering the distance at a reasonable speed. It was getting warmer the further they travelled. The corridor opened out into a wide-open space decked out with benches and fabric screen that must have only recently been set up. In the centre of the room were a number of crates containing overalls and equipment. Six soldiers stood to attention and handed them out to the new arrivals.

  “Get your fatigues here!” called out the nearest.

  Xenophon walked over and was about to speak, when he was blocked by a tall, black soldier. The man wore a grey uniform with several patches indicating previous tours of duty. He was obviously a man of experience, but Xenophon didn’t recognise his unit’s markings.

  “Move it. All potentials grab your fatigues and get into the training arena. Your trial starts in ten minutes.”

  A pair of fatigues was thrust into his hands, and he found himself pushed to the next person who held out a box. It was made of thin wood and already had his name printed on it. He was confused at first as to how they knew who he was, but then it was obvious. When they had originally signed up, they had been photographed. A full Alliance dossier would have been easy for them to access.

  “Your gear and personal items in here. No weapons, comms devices or sharp objects.”

  He emptied his pockets, but there was surprisingly little to give them. When finished, he was directed to one of the temporary booths to get changed. It seemed a little excessive, but then he remembered this was a mixed unit of men and women. It was probably a good idea to offer at least a little privacy to get started. In his experience, the military tended to not spend much time worrying about these kinds of details. He pulled off his clothes as quickly as possible and threw on the overalls. They were equipped with a series of small belts to adjust, and with a little effort they almost fitted correctly. Once satisfied, he emerged from the privacy of his booth to join the rest of the new recruits. Glaucon was already waiting, but there was no sign yet of the other two. The soldier with the wooden box took away his clothes and placed them on top of the rest of his belongings. He didn’t say anything but pointed further along the hall to where a man in tactical armour was waiting.

  Okay, I wonder what challenge they’ve set for us.

  He walked towards the man and waited. About twenty more people were also stood waiting patiently. With all of their gear removed, everyone looked roughly the same. Men outnumbered the women by about two to one, and there was a wide range of ages from late teens up to the sixties.

  “Are you ready for this?” asked Roxana as she appeared behind him. He glanced back to her, noting how calm and collected she appeared in this situation. A fraction taller than him, she was easily the most combat experienced of them all. She’d tied her long hair up into a bun. It was an odd look but hardly surprising due to their current predicament. Xenophon had said nothing yet, so she spoke again.

  “Look, these kind of tests are pretty common. They throw us in some kind of fight, and it will let them choose which branch to transfer us to.”

  Glaucon and Tamara arrived, both looking distinctly unimpressed with their new clothing. Tamara especially seemed irritated by the looseness of hers.

  “If we want to be in the same unit, we need to stay together, understood?” asked Roxana.

  They all nodded, apart from Tamara who was too busy watching the armoured soldier at the front.

  “Tamara?” called Xenophon, trying to get her attention. She looked and glanced at him.

  “Listen to her. If we don’t work together, they’ll split us up. Okay?”

  She looked away. Xenophon sighed in irritation but was interrupted by the soldier who had lifted his right hand to get their attention.

  “This little test is one of skill, fitness, speed and aggression. Your performance will determine which units and position you will occupy. We assume a basic level of skill and military knowhow. If any of you lack this, I suggest you leave now. We are a mercenary outfit, not a training camp. If you can’t work in one of our units from tomorrow, then we won’t be able to use you.”

  He bent down and lifted up a rifle.

  “This here is the Doru Mk II training rifle. It is the same weight and size as the battlefield versions our Arcadian infantry use. This is the standard weapon used by our light infantry for scouting and special operations. The Doru MK II uses a high velocity pulse round, is capable of long distance interdiction and can penetrate most modern armours. Almost a quarter of our contribution to the Armada will be equipped with this weapon. You will rely on stealth, cunning and accuracy to win. Light infantry do not carry personal shields, just one generator pack per ten man squad.”

  A murmur of discontent spread through the crowd, especially from those with Laconian or Alliance experience. Some tried to interrupt the man, but his harsh stare and silence stopped them.

  “As for heavy infantry, we favour the Laconian model and have developed a system that mixes our strengths with theirs. We use the lighter and more mobile deflector units.”

  He held up a metal gauntlet that was thickly padded with plates and wiring. A number of tubes and cables ran from inside the plates to a backpack. He slid it onto his left hand and tapped the button on the side. A dull audible pulse echoed inside the hall. From the gauntlet, a blue light expanded until it produced an oval energy shield of half the height and width of a man. It shimmered as it defused light travelling through it. The soldier lifted his arm so that the shield stood in front of him and towards the recruits.

  “Our body shields are half the weight of the Laconian designs, but they are nowhere near as powerful. Whereas a Laconian shield is built to absorb kinetic and thermal energy, ours merely deflect them. Our shields can only deflect small arms fire at long to medium distance. It allows out heavy infantry to close the distance to make use of our specialised weapons. The closer we get, the more we have to rely upon cover and firepower.”

  He switched off the shield with his right hand and lowered the gauntlet to the table. Next he lifted the projectile weapons. The first looked like a cut down battle rifle; the second was much broader, more like a grenade launcher or similar.

  “Plasma launchers and pulse carbines are our weapons of choice for the heavy infantry. The carbines are extremely effective at short to medium distances, whereas the plasma launcher provides firepower for armour and structural destruction.”

  He lowered the weapons and paused for a moment as the recruits watched in interest. It was clear that some were already familiar with the items on display, but a good proportion looked less than convinced. After they settled down, he lifted up the final item. It looked like a large metal fist with a series of bumps and fittings on its surface. He fitted it to his hand and lifted his fist to the ceiling.

  “These are on loan from our Laconian friends. They are rare, and in my opinion, pointless unless you have their shielding to go with them. They are the infamous Asgeirr-Carbines.”

  A murmur of recognition spread quickly through the crowd.

  “Nice, I want one,” said Glaucon in a hushed voice.

  Xenophon smiled and leaned in closer.

  “Actually, I think I’ll take a pair!”

  “This weapon incorporates an internal pulse carbine of a similar design to ours. Due to its reduced size and capacity, you will find it lacks both the ammunition and the range of our native firearms. Even so, it is deadly at close range. As well as the firearm, you also get this as a bonus.”

  With a swish sound, a wicked looking blade, much like that of a large bayonet or short sword, pushed out from the fist. Its edges and tip looked as though they could stab through any material.

  “Incredibly, there are some who still train to use this kind of weapon. In my opinion, if you can get close enough to your opponent to stab them, well, you can simply shoot them. We have training versions of all the weapons plus body shields for those that want them.”

  He motioned for them to look p
ast him, and a series of large doors opened up to reveal a training arena. It was easily the size of a major sporting stadium with a high ceiling and enough space for thousands of people. In the centre, taking up most of the space, was what looked like a ruined town. Buildings were partially collapsed and burnt out vehicles littered the mock streets. The ruins themselves were dwarfed by a large mound in the centre that was topped with a damaged turret or tower of some kind.

  “In the centre of the ruins is your objective. You will be split into two teams of fifty. The objective will be to capture and secure the tower. Whichever team controls the tower at the end of the time limit wins. You may use reasonable force in the exercise, but remember we need fighters, not casualties. Anybody causing permanent damage will be kicked out. If we can’t trust you now, why should we on the battlefield? You can divide yourselves up, one half of you will head to the blue light that is flashing to the left, the rest to the red on my right.”

  The group started to move before he interrupted them one last time.

  “The exercise will run for one hour, so use it as your job interview. What you do here will choose your path for months, maybe even years to come. Good luck.”

  Roxana didn’t hesitate and pushed ahead and towards the blue light. A number of other people followed her, each eager to reach the light and the soldier waiting to explain the details further. Xenophon, Glaucon and Tamara were close behind. It was only a short distance until they reached a sandbagged emplacement. Inside, a red light glowed brightly. The soldier inside stood silently, waiting for his full group of fifty to arrive before speaking. Xenophon glanced at his comrades briefly, checking they were all there. Each appeared calm, apart from Tamara, who once more seemed nervous, and even a little suspicious.

  “What’s up?” he whispered to her.

  She shook her head. “Nothing, let’s just do this.”

  Strange, she says she has so much experience, and we’ve seen her fight. Why the nerves?Something certainly isn’t right, he thought. Then he spotted her hand shaking slightly. Narcotics, it has to be!