Black Legion: 05 - Sea of Fire

by Michael G. Thomas

  “Indeed,” replied Tirbazus, “All the Empire grieves with you at his loss.”

  The comments were once again loaded with intonation. There was little interest or love for Cyrus out here, no more so than for any of the other Satraps. The implication being that he was saddened that a traitor had died suggested a deeper, disloyal tone that he actually found amusing.

  “The Empire is at a turning point, and I am here to help maintain its integrity. The God King has given me Imperial authority to travel at will, and to requisition whomever and whatever I require to complete my mission.”

  He extended his hand to give a small piece of paperwork bearing the Emperor’s personal seal. Tirbazus read it and then lowered his head a centimeter and nodded.

  “Of course. The Great Satrapy of Hayastan would be honored to assist the God King in any way we can. I have arranged for the special guests that you requested.”

  The Satrap smacked his hand together three times, and four of his guards moved away from the walls and closer to him. From out of the two doorways came an odd assortment of creatures. They filed out until nine of them stood around the two nobles. After a short pause, another four entered the hall and moved to the flanks of Tirbazus.

  “Here they are.”

  Ariaeus looked at each of them in turn, soaking in the details, the clothing, the armor, the weapons, and their demeanor. Eventually, he finished and looked back to the Satrap.

  “These are your finest mercenaries and bounty hunters? I understood you were to be assembling dozens of them. Not just these?”

  Tirbazus feigned a low bow and nodded to the new arrivals.

  “These are not just finest warriors; they are the best at what they do this side of the Empire. The first nine are the leaders of their own mercenary warbands. Each of them commands hundreds of warriors and a number of ships. They have worked together before as the Ionian Corsairs, and will fight where you tell them, and when you tell them.”

  Ariaeus didn’t seem impressed, but he had at least heard of them.

  “Were they not responsible for the sacking of an Attican moon just three years ago?”

  Tirbazus smiled.

  “Indeed they were.”

  He pointed to the figure in the middle of the group. All nine of them were pureblood Hayastani warriors, and each wore a set of unique jewel-encrusted armor. Every one of them was male, and all bore scars and damage to their equipment.

  “This is Koni, the elected leader of the nine warbands. He leads the Corsairs.”

  Ariaeus blinked on hearing the name.

  “Yes, I know of you. Were you not the same Koni that bid for the contract with Lord Cyrus?”

  The mercenary smiled, baring multiple golden teeth.

  “Yes.”

  His accent was thick and dripped sarcasm.

  “He wanted us to commit to combat in the Empire, but he offered nothing in advance. My boys will not fight inside the Empire without some kind of...compensation. Last time I took ships into Carduchian space, I lost seven ships.”

  His mouth widened at the mention of the last word. Ariaeus looked at the other eight mercenaries, each of which seemed such as bloodthirsty and filthy as the next.

  “What kind of resources do you have access to? These Terrans are veteran warriors, experienced fighters from multiple engagements. Even the Great King found his soldiers suffered at their hands. They are deadly opponents.”

  “And we are no automatons,” hissed Koni, “We have met the Terrans many times before. They die like everybody else.”

  Ariaeus laughed.

  “Yes, and I have seen mercenaries die on both sides. Even so, you will be paid a year’s coin just for joining this operation. Understand that this means you will be required to stand, no matter the odds. It is my intention that you will assist Lord Tirbazus here to defend the border zone that you call the Sea of Fire.”

  The mercenaries turned to each other and began to speak. One complained at the mention of Carduchia, something Ariaeus was not surprised to hear. The region was infamous because entire fleets of ships had vanished in the past. Unlike other Satrapies, the Carduchians were scattered and as likely to fight each other as any other vessels coming through. Only Imperial Navy flagged vessels could expect a clear route through, just as he had. The mercenaries continued to talk until Tirbazus called out.

  “Enough!”

  He then pointed to the other four individuals that were standing apart from the rest.

  “The Ionian Corsairs under the command of Koni will provide you with the armed force you requested as well as your own legion of soldiers. These, on the other hand, are the four most prominent and successful bounty hunters in this sector of the Empire. They will give you a different solution to the problem.”

  He then pointed to a pair of similarly dressed Hayastani.

  “The first two are Bijan and Ramin, the infamous Hooshang Brothers. Between them they have captured or killed more than forty known criminals in the Empire. Their last foray, well, let’s just say that more than a few hundred died before they reached their targets.”

  Ariaeus looked at them but didn’t appear particularly impressed. Their armor was light, and both carried no more than daggers and pistols on their belts. Their skins were dark, much darker than even his, yet their facial characteristics were traditional Hayastani. They looked identical, and Ariaeus could only assume they were twins. He sighed and moved away as Bijan began to speak. His accent was relatively neutral, but his words were slow and slurred.

  “Lord Ariaeus. Unlike these mercenaries, we have military arrangements with all neighboring Satrapies. Even the Carduchians and the Robotic Domains grant us access, for a price, of course. Our ships await your orders in Carduchian space, along with a few of the vessels specially requested.”

  Ariaeus listened patiently and waited for him to finish. He noted with amusement that his mention of the word mercenary started some grumbling from the Ionian Corsairs. It was always good to know where the strengths and weaknesses of your allies were. The special ships was a surprise, and he could only hope it was what he had asked for.

  Bactrian ships, could they really still have them?

  He made a mental note and then nodded in acknowledgement.

  “Yes, that is good. If your relations are as you describe, well, then you will join my Carduchian diversion. I assume your forces are experienced in hit and run raiding tactics?”

  Both brothers grinned in answer to the question.

  “What is this? A machine?”

  “Yes, he is an exile known as Tir, from the Robotic Domains. The machine is fully autonomous and fought in the rebellion that saw two of its own worlds destroyed by our fleet.”

  Ariaeus shook his head in astonishment. The machine was of a similar size and build to the dreaded Taochi warriors. Its surface was dull metal, like unpolished iron but with a subtle green tint. The edges were heavily worn and hundreds of scratches marked it. It was bipedal and carried no weapons, though its forearms included large slabs much like heavy hammers. It lacked a neck, and its head appeared fused directly onto the torso, with no mouth, ears, or nose. Its eyes were simply a pair of craters on the head plate.

  “And why would you bring this thing...here?”

  Tirbazus gave him that knowing look designed to annoy.

  “Tir was reprogrammed by our own agents. Its program is a simple one, to follow out the orders of the Hayastani chain of command. It will not eat, drink, rest, or sleep until its mission is complete. Just give it a target, and it will never stop.”

  Ariaeus stepped back from the machine, sensing possible trouble.

  “The war robots of the Robotic Domains have never been fully controlled. Even if you can give it orders, it can still choose to override them if it interferes with its core programming. Everybody knows that.”

  He lowered his hand, ready to grab a firearm.

  “Show me this thing’s loyalty.”

  Tirbazus nodded politely.

>   “Of course.”

  He then beckoned to a pair of his personal guards. The fully armored warriors moved up to him with their lances resting on their shoulders. After speaking quietly to them, he looked back to Ariaeus.

  “These are two of my royal guards, warriors dedicated to follow out my orders, no matter where they might lead.”

  He then looked to the machine.

  “Tir, I order you to destroy these soldiers.”

  The machine lowered its stance and lifted its arms ready.

  “Affirmative,” it answered in a robotic, emotionless tone.

  The two soldiers stepped back, their weapons lowered and in two hands. They moved them like heavy spears, but the tips glowed with energy. The robot waited completely stationary, with only a hum from its motors as the eyes tracked their movement. They separated so that one faced each of its sides. Then with no warning it sprung to the left and brought both arms down against the first soldier.

  “Watch!” said Tirbazus with a laugh.

  The soldier managed to stab with his lance, but the machine bashed it aside with its flank just as the first of the hammer arms crashed into his shoulder. With a cry of pain, he fell to the ground, his weapon clattering down beside him. The second yelled an insult in his thick Hayastani accent and struck the machine in the back. There was a bright flash, and the lance burned a small hole into the plating. The machine spun about and snapped the weapon clean in two with a quick vertical strike.

  “Destroy,” it said.

  The soldier stepped back and drew a curved blade from his side. The machine lurched ahead and swung down both arms low and behind, then up above its head, and down directly in front to crash down onto the soldier’s head.

  “Stop!” Tirbazus cried.

  The machine froze in mid strike while the soldier held out his blade, waiting to parry, no matter how ineffective the technique might be. From the angle where Tirbazus and Ariaeus were watching, it looked like some ancient sculpture.

  “Tir, the kill order is revoked. Return to your station.”

  “Affirmative. Station.”

  The machine lowered its arms and moved back to its original position. With nothing more than a switch of his hands, Tirbazus gave the order for his soldiers to move in to help the wounded man. As they helped him away, he turned back to Ariaeus and then pointed at the fourth and final figure.

  “This is Kallinos, a mercenary from the Ionian Territories.”

  Ariaeus lifted his lip in a sneer as he looked at the figure. He went up to it and walked around while shaking his head. It was as tall as him but broader, with a large chest, thick arms, narrow waist, and long flowing white hair. Its head was covered with a brown, leather style helmet that left nothing to see other than the chin and mouth. A scar ran from the mouth and down the neck.

  “A half-breed? I thought they had been wiped out a generation ago.”

  Tirbazus’ expression stayed the same as he replied.

  “Elsewhere you would be right. In the aftermath of the Ionian Genocides, a large number of refugees made their way across the Empire. A small number reached the Sea of Fire. Very few made it further, but those that did, well...”

  Now Tirbazus appeared to delight in seeing the Median nobleman’s discomfort.

  “We have found their unique skills to be highly valuable. The speed and cunning of the Medes, with the strength, violence, and resilience of the Terrans.”

  Ariaeus spat at the feet of Kallinos.

  “This creature has no right to live in the Empire or anywhere else.”

  He hadn’t noticed, but as he’d been circling the mercenary, its eyes had been tracking him. Ariaeus moved nearer and then moved his hand close to touch its face. With a movement as quick as a cat, it grabbed his arm, twisted it back, and forced Ariaeus to the floor.

  “Never, ever touch me. Medes!”

  With a superlative effort, Ariaeus twisted away and leapt back to his feet. He brushed away the dust from his clothing and adjusted his cloak.

  “Just typical and exactly what I would expect from a half-breed, violent, angry, and easily baited. How can this...thing help the Empire?”

  Kallinos stepped back and into its position next to the machine. As it waited, it pulled of its helm to reveal the scarred face of a female. Her dark eyes and bright white hair mesmerized Ariaeus for several seconds.

  “Kallinos is a male name.”

  “...and Ariaeus is the name of a fool,” answered the half-breed.

  Ariaeus looked to her and then back to Tirbazus who was still busy smiling.

  “I see. Well, my mission is simple.”

  He then looked to each of them and indicated for his own guards to approach. They placed a chest on the floor and opened it to display the finest collection of rare jewels and metals any of them could ever have seen.

  “Each Terran killed in this so-called Black Legion will grant you a single talent of this wealth.”

  A murmur slipped from one of the mercenaries.

  “And the officers?” Bijan Hooshang asked.

  “Yeah, and their commanders?” added his brother.

  Ariaeus could see even the half-breed was intrigued by the riches on display before her. Only the machine showed no interest in the precious materials.

  “A hundred talents will be granted for every senior officer killed and a thousand for each ship.”

  He lifted his arms out to encompass the entire ship and then turned around to face the Satrap himself.

  “The God King grants unlimited rewards to those who end this group of Terrans. While the Imperial Fleet is engaged elsewhere, it is for us, the loyal servants of the Empire to prove our worth. By the time they reach the border and the Sea of Fire, they will be a shadow of their former selves. If any make it out of Carduchia, they will be forced to brave the storms and dangers of the Sea of Fire. Any vessels that make it through will then face everything I have mustered in Hayastan. I will lead the Ionian Corsairs against them and destroy what remains.”

  He turned to face Tirbazus.

  “I can expect your forces to be waiting here for them?”

  Tirbazus smiled that self assured, smug grin that made Ariaeus’ blood boil.

  “Of course. If any make it this far, they will be left to face the entire armed might of my Satrapy, the Royal Fleet of Hayastan, as well as whatever forces you deem to leave here.”

  Ariaeus was unable to hide his smile.

  Between the wasteland of Carduchia and the fleets of Tirbazus, I will end this. And sitting right in the middle of these two forces is the Sea of Fire, a place that could win this battle for me, all on its own.

  CHAPTER TWO

  Terran Scout Squadron, Carduchian Wilderness

  It was the third day of the fleet’s slow advance into the great Carduchian Wilderness. The Wilderness took its name from the vast asteroid field that covered a distance of more than fifty parsecs. Normally, this meant the fleet would need to take on fuel to carry out at least four jumps. It was much too risky to carry out long jumps in such a changing and dangerous place. Tales of greedy traders that tried to make fifteen parsec leaps in Carduchia were known as far away as Laconia. Lumps of rock the size of planets right down to the size of Terran fighters marked where the mythical realm of the Chians had been destroyed. Now the Wilderness was nothing more than a wasteland, with few moons, stations, or supply posts remaining. Its only purpose was to provide a buffer between the Carduchian Satrapy and the Imperial Core Worlds.

  “Bring us in slowly,” said Xenophon.

  Lady Artemas touched his shoulder and nodded.

  “Yes, we have to move around the cluster and on to the next waypoint.”

  The navigator on the command deck made minor adjustments to their course so that they could pass through safely. It was tricky due to the massive amount of debris, as well as the fact that chunks continued to collide and send out debris in other directions. With a burst of flame from maneuvering thrusters, the single light Cruiser
Antaeus passed a massive asteroid and twisted about to move past hundreds of smaller fragments. The ship was Theban and crewed by a mixture of men and women from throughout the Terran Peloponnese region of space.

  “I hate this place,” complained Kentarchos Cadmus of Thebes.

  Xenophon looked at the ship’s commander and smiled.

  Spaced out around the vessel were six Terran torpedo boats, each bearing the markings of different Terran states. Two of these bore the Arcadian symbols, and it was the Arcadian vessels that scouted out ahead.

  “Now roll,” said Artemas.

  The Kentarchos looked to Xenophon, but he nodded and refused to answer. Even now, after all they’d been through, there were warriors in the Legion wary of being around Artemas. With a grumble, he passed on the order, and they were soon barreling through the rock and ice with just meters to spare.

  “How many times have you done this?” Xenophon asked.

  They both watched the view as the modern vessel arched its way through the debris. Similar to the Titans, the ship was fitted with a partial VOB system that offered a virtual view of everything round them.

  “Six, all of them before I was nine years old.”

  An officer further back laughed, and Xenophon twisted his head about to find the man. It was a young stratiotes, perhaps nineteen years old, and wearing his Legion tunic and breastplate.

  “Got something to say, Stratiotes?”

  The man raised an eyebrow but said nothing in reply. Xenophon could see the man was a troublemaker, but he was also surrounded by a number of officers bearing the same marks from Thebes.

  Boeotians.

  The entire region was a hotbed of activity, and they had been one of the many Terran factions to side against Attica in the war. Like so much of Terran politics, their bitterness to Attica came from substantial Attican support for Boeotian border worlds. These planets had been supplied and supported by the state, with the moon of Plataea being one of the most significant. The Thebans in a long and bitter orbital siege and blockade had razed the colonial moon. Now the entire surface was nothing but a wasteland inhabited by mercenaries and criminals.