Black Legion: 05 - Sea of Fire

by Michael G. Thomas

  Now the Strategos was interested.

  “Then why have we not seen these ships?”

  Tamara muttered something, but Artemas answered before the Strategos could take punitive action against her.

  “Amyrtaeus of Sais has turned the Satrapy of Mudrya against the Empire. This rich territory is considered by some to be the equal of the Core Worlds. The Emperor will stop at nothing to end this threat. That is why he has sent somebody, along with access to unlimited funds, to make sure we never leave the Empire. He can afford whatever it costs. He just cannot afford to waste ships. Instead, he will buy whatever local forces he needs to do it."

  Glaucon nodded grimly.

  "As Xenophon predicted. We needed friends to get out of here. Now we have driven the Carduchians straight into the paymasters of the Empire, and they have deep pockets. The Carduchians could let every colony, outpost, and orbital city burn and still come out of this as winners."

  Finally, Tamara spoke.

  "So who is running this operation, if not the Emperor?"

  That was one question that not even Lady Artemas could answer. She looked to Glaucon and then to Tamara, who now seemed more interested in the artificial world that lay below them. One thing all three shared was a common distrust of the Strategos.

  “I do not know.”

  Chirisophus cleared his throat and growled a suggestion.

  “Maybe the answer is down there? Komes Artemis said he had survivors. I recommend you take a Dekas to the surface and investigate. With his skills and your local knowledge, you might be able to find something useful.”

  Artemas looked at him with emotionless eyes.

  “And what will you be doing in the meantime?”

  Again he licked his lips are though imagining some great pleasure. It made her shudder a little while she tried to turn her mind away from whatever it might be.

  “My dear. I will continue to prepare this fleet for our voyage out of this wretched place, and on through the Sea of Fire and beyond.”

  He then pointed at her entourage.

  “I suggest you pay a visit to the surface. See if you can find a way to ease our journey.”

  * * *

  Light Cruiser ‘Antaeus’, Terran Rearguard, Carduchian Wilderness

  One of the young men in front of Xenophon was struck in the face. He spun about, and a second shot glanced off his plumed helm and forced him backward. The man was alive, but the impact of the energy round had knocked him out cold. The fallen man created both an obstacle for the Terrans, as well as a gap in the shield wall. As he staggered back, he created a gap in the wall that Xenophon rushed to plug. He locked his arm into position, and the wall of energy returned.

  “Steady!” he said.

  Xenophon’s voice was calm and reassuring, even amidst the blood and carnage of the small battle. The two sides faced off at a close range and exchanged fire. Bullets glanced off the walls, leaving long black marks and craters. Chunks of metal broke off from the ceiling and crashed indiscriminately among them, and still the battle continued. Xenophon looked to his own line of warriors and then at the machines. He knew they were close enough, and also that they had to act before their numbers were too few. He opened his mouth wide and called out to the Terrans.

  “Attack!”

  From behind the cover of their wall, the Terrans surged ahead. The shield flickered as they moved out from its protection and directed against the wall of machines. Guns ripped into both groups of warriors, but at such close range, the brutal hand-to-hand weapons came into the fray. Blades stabbed and hammers swung; in seconds the hall was a mess of shattered machines and broken flesh. Xenophon found himself atop of a broken robot and looked ahead to the commander. It changed its stance and then brought its arms out in front.

  “Surrender,” it said again, the voice no different to before.

  Xenophon didn’t even bother to speak. He jumped down from the machines and left both sides fighting in a battle, much like Terrans had been fighting for centuries. From the corner of his eye he spotted the machines breaking formation, but the Terrans were already moving back into a strongly defended shield wall. He couldn’t go back, though; he’d gone too far ahead and was now technically behind their frontline.

  “Stay close,” said a familiar voice.

  The large form of Desma came from behind a burning machine and up close to his flank. She’d lost her blaster and instead carried the Taochi distortion knife in her right hand. Her energy shield flickered intermittently from the vast output it had been forced to exude in the battle.

  “Be careful,” said Xenophon.

  They moved as a pair toward the large machine. The odd pulse round struck around them, and a few even hit the machine, but none seem to do much more than add to the cracks and scars that covered the plating on it.

  “Why are you here?” Xenophon asked.

  He kept his shield up, protecting his legs and torso, and punched at it with the Asgeirr-Carbine. Though a standard model, it had clearly been improved and embellished by Clearchus at some point in the past and was tailor made for fighting at short to medium ranges. It made a thumping sound as it sent out round after round of explosive pulse rounds. At this range, they easily punched through most armor, but with this machine he could only see the sparks and flashes from the impacts.

  “To claim the bounty.”

  Xenophon was so surprised at the words that he nearly missed spotting the machine as it spun about from the waist up. Due to it being completely mechanical, it was able to twist and turn like a gun turret. The hammers extended out as it completed three full rotations. On the second time both hammers hit Xenophon’s shield with such energy the field collapsed. The next impact struck him in the chest, and he was propelled over a meter backward. He hit the ground and slid back a little further. His vision faded and pulsed, but his mind kept fighting.

  Get up! You have to get up!

  His eyes blurred, and the sound of battle faded in an out. Finally, his eyesight gave out, and he could only sense the battle through the sounds. Each of them stretched out until they became long, slow groans. Even in such a state, Xenophon knew he had to move. If he stayed down, they might lose the fight, but more importantly there was a good chance he would be killed by the machines; and that sent a surge of fresh adrenalin pounding through his body.

  I’ll be dammed if I’m going down with my eyes shut.

  Xenophon struggled to move, shook his head, and almost vomited at the sudden change in movement. He opened his eyes and found colored shapes but no discernible enemy.

  Up!

  With every ounce of energy remaining in his legs, he forced himself back to his feet. The sound of battle was still there, as was the clang of metal on metal. The Terrans shouted to each other and to their enemies while the machines fought in total silence. The Terrans had taken heavy losses, but so had the robots. Xenophon suspected there was a chance this fight would end up a draw, but this was no game of chess. Even if just a few remained, the robot commander would still waltz through the ship with impunity.

  We have to drive them away, or destroy them. We have no choice.

  He glanced at his right hand and checked the carbine part of his weapon was still loaded and ready. The battle behind was still a confusing mess, but the sight in front was like nothing he could have imagined. Desma danced around the large machine like a mongoose tackling a cobra, and even Xenophon found himself amazed.

  Who is this woman?

  She was big, and easily a match for any male spatharios he had ever seen. Even her size was nothing when compared to her foe, an enemy that made her merely an ant in comparison. While the Terrans continued their ongoing slugging match with the robot soldiers, only Desma fought and held off the powerful enemy commander. The machine swung its hammers about, yet every time it should connect, it missed. The machine refused to back down, but each time it missed, the crazed Terran would strike it with her looted blade. Sparks flew continually, but finally the ma
chine worked close enough to Desma that it was able to strike her in the forearm. She yelled and stepped back.

  Help her, you fool!

  Xenophon activated his shield, but the status indicator simply flashed a warning. The generator was out of power and had shut down. He hit the release button, and the heavy unit dropped from his back and landed on the ground with a meaty clunk. Freed of its weight, he grabbed a discarded pulse pistol in his left hand and rushed to Desma’s aid.

  “To the left!” he called out.

  Desma needed no encouragement and took a step to the left. Xenophon took her place and stabbed at the machine while opening fire with both hands. The machine pulled its arms apart so that it might strike at both of them. They ducked and twisted to avoid the strikes, but it was a powerful pulse cannon round that changed the fight. The machine shuddered and then staggered back. Three more rounds struck at it, and the machine was forced to lift its hammer arms to shield its body.

  “Terrans, clear the path!” cried out a familiar voice.

  Xenophon moved further to the left and pushed Desma to the protection offered by one of the fallen and partially destroyed robots. A fusillade of fire came from behind, and Xenophon glanced back at the sight of the new arrivals. One man stood out from the others. He wore parts of spatharii panoply, and around him were a dozen more.

  The Kentarchos!

  A mixture of Naval officers mixed in with the remaining spatharii and created a strong phalanx within the shielded area. Two men carried a large triple-barreled pulse cannon, a weapon normally fitted as a secondary weapon on an aircraft. One fired while the other rested its barrel on his right shoulder. The bursts of fire were powerful and tore chunks from the robot foot soldiers.

  “Advance!”

  Kentarchos Cadmus moved ahead with a Doru rifle in his arms. As before, the Terrans took careful steps while putting down considerable fire. At the same time, the commanding robot emitted a series of electronic noises. The remaining robots lifted themselves to their feet and positioned themselves in a moving wall alongside their leader. They quickly left the corridor and headed back toward their vessel. The Kentarchos made it to Xenophon and gave the order to halt.

  “Dig in and check your weapons.”

  Xenophon reached out with his arm and grasped the lead arm of the officer. It was the traditional Terran greeting between friends or equals.

  “Thank you. That was goddamn good timing.”

  The Kentarchos smiled.

  “That’s the difference between us Naval fighters, and you ground pounders. We’re all about the timing.”

  Another three shots were the last of the counterattack as the robots vanished from view. Xenophon looked at them, but Desma was already in front of him and pointing in the direction of the machines.

  “We cannot let them control their retreat. What if they find another way inside?”

  Kentarchos Cadmus nodded in agreement and signaled to the Terrans.

  “Advance to the hangar and drive them out!”

  * * *

  Bijar Prime, Carduchian Wilderness

  Lady Artemas walked through the abandoned facility as though she was on some grand state visit. At her side were Glaucon and Tamara and at her back a dozen Laconian spatharii. They were in a vast open garden filled with exquisite water features, long lines of plants and trees, and beautifully designed sculptures. Directly above them was the great dome, a structure so vast it could have contained an entire Terran Titan and still have room for dozens of smaller ships.

  “Have you ever seen anything like this?” she asked.

  Her tone was gentle, yet lacked the awe that might be expected in such a unique location. Glaucon was only partially listening and much more interested in scanning every shadow and piece of cover he could find.

  “I don’t like it down here. If we were to be attacked, we would lack numbers and tactical knowledge. This job could have been completed by the stratiotes. They are trained and equipped for high speed scouting operations.”

  “No, I need to see this storage site described by the Komes, personally.”

  On she marched through the gardens and deep into the urban sprawl. It took almost half an hour for them to pass a heavily damaged official looking building and toward a great pit in the ground. A crane and gantry system lay twisted and smashed to one side, leaving only the poorly maintained circular stairway as the route down.

  “Are you sure?” Glaucon asked.

  Even Tamara looked unconvinced.

  “Why are we bothering?”

  Lady Artemas looked to them both.

  “Xenophon was right. We need to scout ahead, seek out contacts, make friends, and attempt a careful withdraw from the Empire. That has fallen apart, and now we are floundering in Carduchia. Chirisophus believes we have all the time in the world to prepare. I suspect he would even like to turn around and take advantage of the internal troubles of the Empire.”

  Glaucon seemed surprised at this statement.

  “Really? He would turn on the Emperor, even in our current state?”

  They continued on downward, with even their Laconian bodyguard coming in right behind them. Each level took half a minute to navigate, but finally they reached the first of the primary levels, each of which was space ten levels apart. Artemas left the steps and went into one of the side tunnels. She was only a short distance inside and nodded toward a distant light.

  “Look, it’s Komes Artemis.”

  The shape of the Laconian officer was not far away. He spotted movement, gave an order, and then walked toward them. He stopped just in front of Lady Artemis and bowed politely.

  “Lady Artemas. I was told to expect your arrival. The Strategos asked me to...well he wants...”

  Artemas smiled at his discomfort. She reached out and touched the man’s shoulder.

  “It’s okay. I know why we are here. He wants me off the ship, and down here keeps me away from the fleet and the Legion.”

  The Terran grinned.

  “Yes. Our Strategos is a fine warrior, and my kin, but he is not the most...ah...politic.”

  Lady Artemas looked at him carefully. She had met him several times, and he struck her as being the epitome of the Terran warrior, strong, loyal, and brave. Yet for some reason, he also seemed to have a brain and an inquiring mind.

  “There is much more to getting the Legion back safely than simply knowing how to fight battles. The Strategos needs to be a leader, a general, and a warrior. He must know when it is time to fight, and when it is time to talk.”

  The Terran nodded slowly in complete agreement.

  “That is why I am not disappointed in your arrival. I know you and Xenophon are close, and the two of you have offered good advice since we reached Cunaxa. That is why I think you might find the stowaways of more interest than even the Strategos thought.”

  He pointed into the dark, damp tunnel.

  “For a start, they are not Carduchians.”

  Both of them were silent for a second. Tamara stepped past them and then looked back. Her expression was of wry amusement.

  “So what? I bet there are Carduchians all over the place. Why would it be different here?”

  The Komes nodded to both Tamara and Artemas before replying.

  “A good point. In any case, we have five of them, all survivors of an Imperial civilian transport that was hit six days ago.”

  Artemas looked over his shoulder but could not see the civilians.

  “I thought they couldn’t speak your language, Komes?”

  The Terran smiled and then leaned in close.

  “It took some time, but when we put down the weapons they began to talk. One of them is trader and speaks our language. He has worked the Ionian trade routes. There’s more, though.”

  His tone had dropped so much that not even Tamara or Glaucon could hear him.

  “They say their ship was stopped and searched by an Imperial battleship called Boubak making their way across the border to meet with
another ship. The vessel bore no Imperial markings and appeared to be operating as a corsair.”

  “Boubak?”

  Glaucon heard just the one word but recognized it immediately.

  “What about the Boubak?”

  The Komes looked to Glaucon and then back to Lady Artemas. She nodded. With that permission, the Komes explained.

  “She was identified by these traders.”

  “And?”

  “They were boarded, interrogated, and then set adrift two days from this location. What is more interesting is that they were questioned over and over about two people.”

  “Who?” Glaucon asked.

  Komes Artemis wiped his chin.

  “They wanted to know the location of the commander of another ship, one that is out here on some special mission. The commander of this ship is apparently Ariaeus. The second is Lady Artemas, the niece of the traitor Cyrus.”

  The mention of that name silenced them all. Even Tamara, normally the most vocal remained completely silent. Lady Artemas nodded, though visibly offended at the suggestion of her being a traitor.

  “Their words, not mine,” added the Komes.

  They then walked on through the tunnel with the Komes alongside her. The prisoners were a short distance ahead. They wore civilian clothing, but one was standing upright, almost to attention as he spotted her. She moved in on him, and he dropped to his knees and spoke in hushed tones.

  “He knows you,” said the Komes.

  He looked at them both with interest as they continued to speak. The others were silent, other than the one still kneeling. The conversation continued for almost a minute, and then Lady Artemas stepped a half step back. It wasn’t much, but it was odd. Glaucon glanced over to Tamara and noted she had already brought her hand down to her side, right where the hilt of her razor sharp stiletto blade rested.

  “What’s going...” started the Komes, but it was too late.

  “Artaxerxes!” yelled the Median male, and then from nowhere came a deadly looking blade. He stabbed it ahead in an upward thrust, aimed directly at Lady Artemas’ stomach. The blade struck just below her armored corset and pushed up behind her lower ribs.