Black Legion: 05 - Sea of Fire

by Michael G. Thomas

  “You want a way out? But we’ve got less than an hour before we reach the fleet.”

  Xenophon shook his head.

  “No. You need to change course.”

  He moved about and stopped in front of a small viewscreen. With a few hand movements he brought up the star map. Their location, along with that of the Strategos and the Legion were clearly visible. He looked to the right and the long ribbon marked as the Sea of Fire, the terrible border that separated the two Satrapies. He then placed his finger down hard in the middle of the Sea of Fire.

  “Send the signal to the fleet. I want all of our ships to redirect to this location.”

  Kentarchos Cadmus looked stunned.

  “But, Sir, that is directly in the middle of the Sea of Fire. There are no bases, supplies, or secure areas to operate from. Why would we go there?”

  Xenophon smiled and made for the door. He looked back at the man.

  “I will get more precise coordinates shortly. Just get us close to the border.”

  “But why?” insisted the Terran commander.

  Roxana had already worked it out, though, and tapped her hand on the screen.

  “He’s going to extract information from the prisoners. If we can find a way through, we can obtain a path and into Hayastan. Once there, we can try and negotiate safe passage through their territory.”

  Kentarchos Cadmus looked unconvinced.

  “So we keep on running, and talking?”

  Xenophon moved back two paces; his expression a mixture of frustration and irritation at being questioned on every single little point.

  “Yes. Or we can stop, fight, and die. We cannot survive out here indefinitely. It’s time for smarter heads to prevail before we lose this entire fleet. Don’t forget, the Hayastani may be no great friends of ours, but there is nobody they hate more than their neighbors in Carduchia. You recall the War of Tears? Only the direct intervention by the Imperial fleet, along with the threat of atomic weapons stopped that fight.”

  Roxana seemed happy at this line of thought.

  “We find a way to get the two groups to fight, that’s your plan, isn’t it?”

  Xenophon nodded.

  “It’s our only chance. But first we need a way through the Sea of Fire. If we travel through the unpredictable border, we could be torn apart.”

  Roxana went to follow him.

  “Then it’s time to question our prisoners. I’ll help.”

  Neither of them bothered to look back at the Kentarchos who simply waited in silence until his command deck was clear. As he watched, his second-in-command caught his attention.

  “Your orders, Kentarchos?”

  * * *

  The ship’s brig was optimistically named, as Xenophon and Roxana soon found out. Larger and more modern warships would be fitted out with dedicated facilities, but not this light cruiser. Instead of a custom facility, the crew had modified one of the empty weapons lockers. Inside were two long metal benches to use as beds.

  Xenophon noticed that all of the prisoners were sitting on them even though there were no pillows, blankets, or anything else to make the stay comfortable. A bucket was in the corner, and he could only assume that was there as a functionary toilet. As a previous high-security doorway, it was not sealed with a simple physical obstruction. Instead, there was a triple layered shield unit that covered the entire entrance. Small indentations in the floor and ceiling marked where the emergency barriers were located. In the event of an attempted breakout or power failure, they would drop down and block the entrance like that of a traditional jail.

  “Who is in charge here?”

  A spatharios appeared from the shadows to the side of the cell entrance.

  “My Lord. I am responsible for the prisoners.”

  Xenophon looked to the man, but there was nothing familiar about him. All of his rank, markings, and insignia had been removed, making him another faceless Terran warrior. It was standard practice, of course; a way to avoid the personal issues that could come of being the one that guarded the worst the fleet had to offer.

  “Xenophon, news from the Kentarchos,” said Roxana.

  He looked to his friend and instantly noted the pained expression on her face. This time it wasn’t as a result of any physical pain she was feeling. Xenophon could see this was a deep down concern, an expression he’d seen plenty of times before when they were in serious trouble.

  “What is it?”

  He almost dreaded her next words.

  “He says reports are arriving from the Strategos. The Carduchians have arrived in force. There is also a second group of ships; they are flying under the banner of a pair of mercenaries called the Hooshang Brothers.”

  Xenophon’s lip twitched at the mention of this well-known group of mercenaries.

  “Hooshang? I know them, pirates, mercenaries, and slavers. They will be there for the money, and they will be here in numbers. Where they travel, so does their pack of stolen ships.”

  He moved closer to her.

  “They are the worst kind of scum. They will wipe out entire colonies, if they get the chance and the opportunity to asset strip whatever they find. Last I heard the Hooshang Brothers had captured a complete, fully functioning Bactrian Grand Battleship.”

  Roxana looked surprised.

  “Surely not. The Bactrian ships are a myth.”

  Xenophon raised his eyebrows.

  “Do you want to take the chance?”

  The Bactrians was a general name given to a region now controlled by the Empire. The name had come to been associated with anything ancient and powerful that harked back to the days of old. Bactrian warships were rarely seen, with just the occasional fighter or transport in one of the many lavish museums throughout the Empire. The possibility of an entire battleship still existing was incredibly exciting to Roxana.

  “If you’re right, then Chirisophus is in trouble.”

  Xenophon nodded in complete agreement.

  “What if they have one, and it turns about after the fight is underway? With damaged ships everywhere, a weapon like that could dispatch a Titan one at a time.”

  She sighed as she listened to him.

  “I know, you’re right. Look, the last report said the mercenaries were standing off and hitting the fleet with long-range guns. The Carduchians are sending in waves of fighters, just like they did with us. Right now, there is no news on this ship. We could be there in thirty-two minutes.”

  Xenophon looked at the prisoners and then to her.

  “No. Either we find a way out of this trap, or we will all die inside it. They will cripple and bleed us. Time is on their side, not ours. We must have information.”

  He then looked carefully at the small group of prisoners. Upon spotting his attention, they all lifted themselves to their feet. One by one they moved closer into a group, but one of them pushed to the front. His features were smooth, impeccably groomed to such a level that he might have been mistaken for a pure blood Medes.

  “I am the commander of this sector. Why have you invaded our territory, and taken my people prisoner?”

  Xenophon loomed at him carefully, examining his face, hair, and eyes. The Carduchian’s expression was of anger, but there was something else. He looked past him and on to the rest of the group. The others were dressed roughly the same, with their locally made uniforms and armor. They looked more like an organized militia than an actual army. He looked to the guard.

  “Spatharios.”

  He then winked and made sure the man understood before continuing.

  “Shoot two of them, any two.”

  The soldier lifted his Doru rifle and clicked off the safety. The unit hummed for a second and then he was ready. The man walked in front of the entrance and put his hand to the panel that operated the shielded door. The unit pulsed, and the color quickly faded. The group of prisoners stayed where they were, but as the guard took aim with his rifle, Xenophon watched carefully, looking at each of them for signs tha
t would give them away.

  “You cannot do this,” said the one at the front.

  Xenophon looked past him and focused on the two at the back. As the Doru rifle clicked on an empty chamber, one of the officers edged in front of another.

  There, that one.

  Xenophon felt a glow of satisfaction at identifying the individual. Roxana noticed the look on his face, but had clearly failed to notice exactly what he’d been looking for. She leaned in close and whispered quietly.

  “What just happened?”

  “One of the officers moved to protect the shorter one, see, the one next to the warrior with the sash.”

  “They are protecting him.”

  Xenophon then beckoned to the guard. “Split them up. I want to see each of them in turn.”

  The Carduchian that called himself the commander tried to block the entrance.

  “What are you doing?”

  The guard pressed a button the wall, and the grav-clamps pulled each of them to the walls. He then walked in and looked at each of the prisoners. He walked between them until receiving the nod from Xenophon.

  “Any of them will do,” he said calmly, doing is best to hide his feelings.

  “Yes, that one is fine. Bring him to the room.”

  The guard detached the shorter Carduchian from the group and took him out of the brig. It was a short trip, but eventually they were inside the empty room with nothing more than a few chairs. The lighting was subdued and came from a single strip unit built into the ceiling. Marks and stains on the floor identified where crates had been placed until recently. The Carduchian turned around to face the three of them but focused his attention on Xenophon. He began to speak in his own language. Roxana spoke quietly.

  “Xenophon. We don’t have time for this. The fleet is taking a pounding. Either we get intel from this one, or we change course to help Chirisophus.”

  Xenophon knew what he had to do, but deep down he didn’t want to do it. He swallowed and then spoke in a slow, careful voice.

  “I know you are the commander of this sector. We have no interest in fighting with you. Tell me how we can navigate through the Sea of Fire, and you will be released. Fail to help, and I will be forced to expel you from this ship.”

  The Carduchian looked at Xenophon, examining his expression, just as Xenophon had done to him. Xenophon could see from his eyes that he was just as curious.

  “This is no empty threat, Carduchian. We are at a critical juncture, and your decision will determine our future, as well as yours.”

  He pointed firmly at him. Neither said a thing for a moment, not until another Terran banged on the door. Roxana went to it, spoke quietly with the man, and then signaled for Xenophon to approach. The guard kept his Doru rifle trained on the prisoner while they spoke.

  “What is it?” he asked.

  Roxana shook her head in amazement.

  “A general distress call has just gone out. You know you said the mercenaries had access to a Bactrian Battleship?”

  Xenophon nodded quickly.

  “Well, it looks like they have more than that.”

  He wiped his brow while his imagination filled with all manner of ships and creatures.

  “Tell me.”

  “They have an entire task force of ships from at least five mercenary units. According to the Strategos, there are more than sixty warships and the same number of fighters. There is also a single Imperial Battleship commanding the battle.”

  Tissaphernes!

  Xenophon’s first thought was that their hated enemy, the Median Satrap himself, would be commanding this fleet. The one doubt in his mind was that the Satrap never traveled without his own vast entourage.

  No, it must be another Imperial operative, one with official authority, but few ships of his own.

  A shadowy figure approached the doorway to the room and waited to come in. He was a Terran, but he wore no armor, just the dark uniform of the Legion and a long coat that went down to his calves. The man’s head was completely bald, and a thick scar ran down from his forehead to his neck. Roxana spotted him, looked at him from top to bottom, and then glanced at Xenophon.

  “You’re not serious? You’ve called in a Scythian?”

  Xenophon licked his upper lip.

  “Who else will get the information we need?”

  CHAPTER NINE

  Light Cruiser ‘Antaeus’, Terran Rearguard, Carduchian Wilderness

  Ten seconds passed and still nobody had moved or spoken. The warm, stagnant air was uncomfortable, and the cramped space was stifling. Roxana sniffed in the damp and then touched her temple as a spark of pain flashed through her body. The light was much poorer in the room and did much to emphasize the mysterious character. Roxana was already trying to put herself between the Scythian and the prisoner. Xenophon shook his head and wiped at his brow, wiping away yet more perspiration.

  “We must have a way out.”

  He pointed at their enemy.

  “This Carduchian is being offered every opportunity to help avoid a violent confrontation. If he does not help us, then I will be forced to take measures, terrible measures.”

  He considered his next words carefully.

  “Do you intend to cause my people harm?”

  The Carduchian remained silent, just as expected. Xenophon moved toward him and could already see beads of sweat forming on his face. He reached forward and touched his skin, feeling the warmth and sensing the fear. Deep down Xenophon knew he was about to commit himself to a course of action he had never wanted. He thought of the Strategos with the bulk of the fleet out there, trapped and with no options. They could not jump into the Sea of Fire without risking annihilation. And with no scouting of the next Satrapy, they could simply move from one danger into another.

  There is much more at stake here than just one prisoner. I can worry about ethics later. First I have to live, and so do my friends.

  It was the thought of Tamara, Glaucon and, of course, Artemas that proved the deciding point. For the sake of one man, could he risk them all? Deep down he knew he would do whatever it took, but something lingered near the surface that left him feeling uneasy.

  “I will ask you one last time, and then I will let the Scythian get to work. There is a reason we use them for internal policing in Attica, and why we have small numbers in our Legion. They are expert police and investigators, but they excel at information extraction and interrogation.”

  He looked to the shadows, and the figure lifted his upper lip to reveal a yellowing tooth. Xenophon shuddered a little at the ugly spectacle. He had never seen one of the Scythians at work, and as he examined the face of this one, he realized he had no intention of staying to watch. There was a reason they were so successful back on his homeworld.

  “Well?”

  The prisoner swallowed and said nothing.

  “Very well.”

  Xenophon walked to the door and signaled for Roxana to follow. She did, but only under duress. Once outside Xenophon looked back and whispered quietly into the Scythian’s ear. It took a few seconds before he nodded and then pulled the door shut behind them; his strange face replaced by that of Roxana. She moved so close their faces were just inches apart.

  “What the hell are you doing?” she demanded, “The Scythians are here as a last resort. You know what he will do. Is that what you want on your hands?”

  Xenophon shook his head, but he was becoming more irritated than sad at his own action.

  “Yes, I know exactly what I am doing.”

  A groan was quickly followed by a shout, and then a terrible scream that sent shivers through both of their bodies. Roxana looked into Xenophon’s eyes, her expression stone cold.

  “I cannot believe you would stoop this low. I really...”

  He lifted his hand and held back her arm.

  “If you want to go in and stop him, and leave our fleet to die over the next day, then go ahead.”

  He stepped aside so that there was nothing to
obstruct her approach to the door. Again came a scream, and she took a step toward the door.

  “Just remember. The ethical decision today will be the greatest crime against our people tomorrow.”

  Roxana looked at him, lowered her head in shame, and walked away. As she moved around the corner, another cry of pain reverberated through the innards of the ship.

  Get what we need, quickly. I can’t take much more of this.

  * * *

  Battleship ‘Zaal’, Hayastani border

  Ariaeus sat in the vast gold decorated chair alongside Tirbazus. It was the position of honor, and clearly a political point that was taken and acknowledged by Ariaeus. They had been there for some time when the doors to the vast Royal Chamber opened.

  “Ah,” said Tirbazus, “we have a guest.”

  The shape was unmistakable even at this range. It moved forward with a grinding clunk, one step after each tortured step. As it came nearer, the volume in the Royal Chamber reduced until the only signs of movement were the lavish shapes on the ceiling, and the approach of the machine. Finally, it stopped before the two nobles and performed a modest bow.

  “This does not look inspiring,” said Ariaeus.

  Tirbazus seemed much less concerned with what he could see. The machine was scratched and battered, but it was hard to tell if any of the damage was a legacy of the machine’s many battles, or from something more recent.

  “The Terrans are split. I led the diversion and have identified areas of strength and weakness.”

  Ariaeus laughed at what the machine said in its dull, droll synthesized voice. He rose to his feet and moved down the steps to the battered machine. Any other warrior might have shown concern, fear, or remorse. The machine showed nothing; it simply waited as Ariaeus circled it.

  “So you failed to defeat them?”

  “Yes.”

  Tirbazus lifted his hand but deliberately stayed seated.

  “Brutal honesty is something rarely heard today, wouldn’t you agree?”