Black Legion: Gates of Cilicia

by Michael G. Thomas

  Glaucon might be down, but there were now less than a dozen of the red team remaining. Only the handful that had turned on Glaucon were left, and they stood to try and run, only to be cut down by the renewed weapons fire from Rexor’s own advancing position. It was a devastating crossfire from all involved, and as the gunfire stopped, Xenophon found himself in the middle of the defeated red team’s position. Rexor moved out from the centre of his unit to look at Xenophon and Glaucon, both of whom were dripping in sweat. He was about to speak when a single remaining red team member lifted herself up and aimed her plasma cannon directly at Rexor. The expression on his face showed that he knew his time was up. Two flashes from the container further away was the only signal that Tamara and Jack were still in position. Their carefully aimed shots hit the woman in the back and knocked her to the ground.

  “Not bad,” he said with a forced smile.

  A loud siren filled the arena, and the lights on the training weapons switched off. Large flood lamps flashed on, and for a few seconds all of those involved felt almost blinded by the bright lights. From above, a round platform of perhaps ten metres in diameter was lowered. It took almost twenty seconds to reach to the ground. In the middle stood an Arcadian senior officer plus an entourage of warriors, each dressed in full combat attire. A group of medics and technicians stepped down from the platform to tend to those that had fallen and to administer the drugs to allow them to stand.

  A small group of the blue team appeared from the left as the survivors of the tower, led by Roxana, emerged from their cover. They were covered in dust, but the look of satisfaction showed they had won a good victory.

  “Excellent work. You will be pleased to note that all of you have passed and are deemed of satisfactory standard to serve with our ad-hoc combat units. Most of you have shown you have the gumption to serve with our heavy infantry, please join the Komes here. He will give you your postings and information on your service aboard the Olympia.”

  The recruits started to move but were halted by the commander.

  “I want each of you to stay, please,” he said pointing at Xenophon, Roxana, Tamara and Jack. He then pointed to the prone shape of Glaucon on the ground.

  “Him as well. Give him a hand up.”

  Rexor glanced at them and nodded as he left. He didn’t seem particularly disheartened to be leaving. He was presumably off to join the others with the heavy infantry. Xenophon watched him walk away and wondered what that would mean for him. The commander waited until most of the others had left before inviting them over to meet an officer. This man looked even dourer than the rest of the Arcadian soldiers they had met.

  “This is Komes Pasion, leader of my scout force. I think you would be ideally suited to serving with him.”

  He turned and moved back to the platform without even waiting to see what they had to say. The Komes looked serious, with not even a hint of humour or compassion about him.

  “My force is a picked unit of three hundred fighters, but we are down on numbers. We travel light and are expected to conduct all manner of missions from recon through to raiding and assault. You need to be able to fight with rifles, carbines and close quarter weapons. You’ve shown initiative, independence and improvisation. These are the three key criteria for being in my unit. Return to the changing area and collect your belongings. You will get your orders from the Dekarchos, he already has your information.”

  He paused and then smiled, or at least that was what it looked like to Xenophon. It could equally have been a grimace.

  “Welcome to the Night Blades.”

  The small group looked at each other in surprise. The officer walked away to leave them in the middle of the training arena.

  “Night Blades? Is that a good thing?” asked Jack.

  Roxana nodded while Xenophon tried to support the dead weight of Glaucon. He looked unconscious, but Roxana seemed unconcerned at his state.

  “Well, we will earn more credits, but there is a greater risk. They are the elite unit on this ship, so we’ve struck gold here,” she said with a very surprised look.

  CHAPTER TEN

  Scout Ship Odysseus, Cilician Gates

  Kentarchos Anaxandros watched the distortion with interest. The Cilician Gates were one of the most famous parts of space, and he never tired of watching the strange optical effects in this region. This particular triple star system was one of the richest and most densely populated planetary formations known to mankind. With over thirty planets, it was the perfect supply, engineering and construction site for hundreds of light years. As kentarchos of his vessel, it was his job to keep the Armada notified of local traffic, celestial phenomena and any other issues that might arise prior to their arrival. It wasn’t the first warship he had commanded, but it was his first operation as a mercenary officer. His new rank of kentarchos was an odd one. In his home, in the Arcadian military, he had been a captain with a well-proven track record. Since forced retirement, he had hit hard times. The opportunity to spend time earning substantial rewards with the mercenaries, under Clearchus, was an offer he could not refuse. That still did not help him getting his head around the use of the archaic ranks used by the Laconians.

  The Laconians, he thought, nodding his head in agreement with himself. At least with them in charge, we might actually have a chance of coming back alive.

  It might be a pan-terran operation, but it was clear who was running the show. His thoughts were interrupted by a loud voice.

  “Sir, engineering are experiencing an issue with the secondary propulsion controller. They want to take it off-line for assessment,” said Ka’Veras, the ship’s kybernetes, or executive officer.

  “How serious is it?” asked Anaxandros.

  The kybernetes moved his hands in front of his display as he made direct contact with the relevant crew. A number of figures appeared, and he moved quickly between them as he disseminated the information. It wasn’t a large vessel, no bigger than a Laconian frigate; the ship was small and lightly armoured. It still packed quite a punch with its array of plasma cannons. These weapons were more than capable of destroying civilian ships five times her size and even giving some military ships something to worry about. She was ninety-two metres long, capable of faster-than-light travel and carried a complement of one hundred and nine crew.

  “Sir, not critical, but there is a low probability of an injector failure if we are forced to use all drive units.”

  Kentarchos Anaxandros scratched his chin as he considered the options. The ship was equipped with three main propulsion units, all powered from the main core. The Primary engines were the FTL drive, and it was what allowed the vessel to jump great distances in the blink of an eye. The secondary engines were much like those used in conventional rockets and ships to change orbit and make low speed manoeuvres. These engines were critical for movement in battle or docking at stations. The final, emergency system was the gas projection system. Archaic by all standards, it was only ever used as an emergency if the secondary engines failed. The gas system could only be used to alter direction or make fine adjustments, and the ship couldn’t do much else with it.

  What if I take the engines off-line and enemy ships jump in?Our only option would be to jump out of here.

  “What about the FTL drive, will it be affected?” he asked.

  “Either way the FTL drive will be taken off-line.”

  He shook his head at the last comment.

  “We’re a scout craft, so without speed we are sitting ducks. Our job is to report on any possible enemy movements in this sector and to report back to the Armada. We’ll get the system checked out when we get back.”

  “Sir.”

  He looked back to the displays and the odd light formations in space. Occasionally, a flicker of light would indicate the movement of one of the massive transports as it moved through the system. Light from the suns would glint from its hull as it passed by. He started to relax, and the muscle in his back easing for just a second before the st
orm hit. It started with a flash of light followed by the dimming of the ship’s interior lights. Alarms triggered throughout the Odysseus. He looked to his screen and spotted an object entering the system.

  “What is it?” he cried.

  Dekarchos Ezekiel, his tactical officer, checked his screen.

  “It’s Imperial…give me a second…yes, Sir, it’s a Median battleship. Our database confirms its configuration as a Scythian Class heavy battleship. I think it’s the Elamite, Sir.”

  He looked back to his own computer display and the projected design and configuration of the ship. It was massive, maybe half a kilometre long, but nothing as vast as the Terran Titans.

  “Tissaphernes’ ship? I thought he was supposed to be off fighting the Lydian pirates, six systems away? What is he doing back here?”

  The Kybernetes looked at a sequence of flashing symbols on the central computer display.

  “By the Gods, something is coming in, something even bigger!” he said excitedly.

  Almost as he finished speaking, the first of hundreds of smaller vessels arrived. No two were alike, but most were about the same size as the Odysseus. He unbuckled himself from his seat and moved to the main display in the centre of the deck. The Kybernetes and Dekarchos Ezekiel joined him, each gazing at the images in surprise.

  “Kentarchos, I have match on the audio channels,” said Auletes Sarjek.

  The ships communications officer spoke with a smooth, almost artificial voice that appeared from the side of the deck. She was the tall automaton, and a freed worker from one of the border worlds who had managed to wrangle a spot on his ship. Anaxandros hadn’t been keen to have her in his crew, but just a cursory glance at her resume showed she had immense skills and knowledge of language and dialects in this region of space. She was the perfect communications officer. A number of the rest of the crew were not happy at her being elevated to the rank of a junior officer without prior military training. This was a private venture, however, and the rules were, well, unique.

  I‘m still not sure I understand if Sarjek is male or female, he thought, distracted for a second by the exotic crewmember. She had expressed confusion at having to choose a sex and had asked the Kentarchos of the ship to choose. Based on her looks and soft voice, he had chosen female, but it still felt odd, prescribing something so private. He shook his head, annoyed at himself for taking his thoughts away from the task at hand. He had to think for second while he tried to remember what she had said.

  “Yes, the audio channel?”

  “Channels,” she corrected. “I have over twenty different languages, the most common one being use is a dialect of the Mulac language. I am also detecting some Terran languages plus Median.”

  “Why are they not encoding their traffic?” he asked, partially to her and also to himself.

  She looked at him as if to say he should already know the answer. Sensing he wasn’t sure, she raised an eyebrow and spoke, again in that mellow, almost soft voice.

  “Perhaps they weren’t expecting anybody to be listening in on them?”

  He checked the main screen, but the number of ships entering the system kept increasing. In all his time as both a civilian and a military commander, he had never seen so many ships in one place.

  This has to be an invasion force of some kind. Where the hell are they all heading?

  “I need information and fast. Where have they come from? What is their full disposition and more importantly, what are they doing?” he asked his bridge crew.

  They all nodded and moved to their computer displays. With nothing but large visual units in front of them, they checked all the data coming in from the ship’s sensors.

  “Sir, I have identified the ship with the most signal traffic. I think it might be their flagship,” said Dekarchos Ezekiel.

  Kentarchos Anaxandros smiled at the speed and precision of his deck crew. They had been well chosen, each of them the best in their fields and drawn from the military and mercenary forces of a hundred nations in the Terran territories.

  “Good work, put it on the main viewscreen. What do we know about her?”

  There was a short pause before the silhouette of the vessel appeared on the display. It was massive, a vast warship that bristled with antenna and weapon mounts. The shape from the side was like that of a deep-sea predatory fish. The front was squashed and gave the impression of a snout. Scores of lights lit up the exterior of the vessel, probably as much for safety as intimidation.

  Dekarchos Ezekiel examined the shape in detail but could make little headway in determining its class or origins. He looked over his shoulder towards the Kentarchos.

  “Sir, the ship has the same power signature of the larger Mulac vessels. Its origins, however, remain uncertain. My best guess is that the ship is a command carrier or battleship for this force. Most of the comms traffic is between this vessel and the other ships. The hull is heavily shielded, so I am unable to scan any deeper without being detected.”

  Anaxandros moved to the side, looking at the shape of the ship. It was definitely unfamiliar to him, and its shape and structure suggested military. The weapon turrets and ports were also unfamiliar to him.

  “Sir, new signals. The transport ships are lowering their shields.”

  “Really? Either they feel safe, or they are about to release something,” said the Kybernetes. “If we want to scan them, this might be our only chance.”

  Anaxandros listened to his executive officer. It was of course correct that this was the perfect opportunity, but it was also a great risk. If they were detected, they would have to leave the area, leaving the Armada without intelligence.

  What if they are preparing a trap or a weapon of some kind? The doubt built in his mind until he was convinced it was a danger to their own force.

  He tapped the communications node near his ear and below his skin. A faint click told him it was activated. Rather than selecting individual crew using the computer, he simply thought of the entire ship, the system automatically placed him on the internal tannoy system.

  “This is the Kentarchos, all crew prepare your stations for battle.”

  He looked over to his bridge crew.

  “On my command, I want a thorough scan of those ships. Do it fast and with minimal trace signatures. I want all stations ready for trouble. We might need to move fast.”

  They all nodded, immediately understanding the risk they were about to take. The Kybernetes checked the status of each department on the ship before looking back up.

  “Sir, all stations are ready. Shield generators powered and ready to activate, weapon system armed and engines on-line.”

  Anaxandros took a deep breath.

  “Do it!”

  The command deck flashed with new light as a dozen displays brought up detailed information on the enemy ships. With their shields down, they were able to scan right inside each vessel. Dekarchos Ezekiel moved the image of the large warship to show dozens of small vessels exiting the transports.

  “This isn’t right. I’m getting thousands and thousands of people on skiffs and barges preparing to leave the transports.”

  “People? Refugees?” asked Anaxandros.

  “No. The signals indicate small power sources from the people themselves.”

  He brought up a detailed model and scan of a small craft. Inside were thirty-two people, each giving off unusual readings.

  “This is strange, these are chemical readings, and they match firearms, weapons, they’re warriors!”

  Anaxandros knew what he was looking at right in front of him.

  “This isn’t a raiding force. We are looking at a full-scale invasion fleet,” he said.

  An alert flashed on the main screen that quickly spread through the command deck. On the main viewscreen, the scanners brought up two vessels, and they were turning and moving towards the Odysseus.

  “Sir, we’ve got a problem!” called out Dekarchos Ezekiel.

  A quick glance revealed the danger
. The two ships, both of at least cruiser size and configuration, were making fast progress towards Odysseus.

  “Have they detected us?” asked Anaxandros.

  “Weapons charging, they’re going to fire!” cried Ezekiel.

  That’s it, now we’re in trouble!

  “Battlestations!” shouted Anaxandros. “Get us out of here!”

  As soon as he called out the alert, the ship bustled with activity. Officers and crew moved through their routines with speed and precision. The small vessel was agile, and they were already pointing away from the other ships. Anaxandros watched the energy field indicator run along the perimeter of the ship, and the shields were now at full strength and the engines powered up. A shrill whine built up inside the hull as the FTL drive spooled up to launch the ship through space. Nothing happened.

  Anaxandros slammed his fist down on the side of the unit. The main display showed the enemy ships had already closed half the distance to them.

  “What the hell is going on? Why are we still here?”

  “Gravity well, they have an interdictor in their fleet,” called out one of the officers. He couldn’t see who it was, and right now he didn’t care.

  “Secondary engines, evasive action! Get us away from the well...now!” he barked.

  The conventional engines kicked in and pushed the ship forward at high speed. Compared to the movement of the ships in orbit, they were moving quickly. But in the vast distances of deep space, it would take millennia for them to reach even the nearest star at this speed. The enemy warships didn’t need to catch them, they just needed to line themselves up to use their forward weapons. Anaxandros watched in dread as two purple beams appeared from the front of both ships. They were powerful cutters and hit the Odysseus before they could take evasive action. The first struck aft and smashed into the engines. The shields absorbed over half of the energy, but it still wasn’t enough. One engine was cut completely off, and a dozen pipes and feed rods sheared off to leave a series of gashes in the hull. The second beam missed but then arced across to hack through the same section.