Black Legion: 03 - Warlords of Cunaxa

by Michael G. Thomas

  “Xenophon?”

  The group ran along the corridor and directly towards her. As they closed the distance, she recognised them and their Terran weapons and armour. Roxana, Artemas and Glaucon ran with him and reached her in seconds.

  “What’s going on here?” she demanded. Xenophon was pulling her back in the direction they had arrived. Glaucon spotted the difficulty with her leg and placed his arm behind her shoulder blade to help support her weight.

  “We’re in orbit over Cunaxa Secundus. Artaxerxes is sending his ships in with suicide runs against the capital ships. Rashnu is burning, along with half the fleet.”

  She looked at him in surprise. “We’re losing the battle?”

  Roxana was scouting ahead of the small group and looked back, shaking her head.

  “No. The Legion is on the way but right now, Cyrus and his forces are making their way to the surface.”

  They kept moving, but the increasing shudders coming up through the ship made their journey even more perilous. Roxana was thrown to the wall at one point and fell down in front of Glaucon. He then tripped, and the entire group fell to the floor. Xenophon looked to them as he lifted himself back up.

  “Come on, I don’t think she has long to go. You saw from the windows on the way here; the ship is on a decaying orbit to Cunaxa. We need to get off before she’s dragged into the atmosphere and burns up.”

  The others helped Tamara to her feet, and they pushed on through the damaged corridors. One screen was still active on their right, and Tamara grabbed at it, desperate to see what was happening. It showed the exterior of the ship just as if it was a glass window, but in reality it was repeating the view on an external camera mount.

  “Look at it,” she said with awe; perhaps even reverence in her voice.

  The other three gave the screen no more than a cursory glance. Above the planet the great columns of ships continued their death struggle while hundreds of smaller craft descended to the planet below.

  “What will happen to the fleet?” she asked.

  Roxana, the most experienced of them all in Naval matters, looked at the ships and quickly assessed the situation.

  “The sides are evenly matched, but Artaxerxes has orbital platforms and more fighters. Over time, he would win, but Clearchus is coming with the Legion. That’s why he has ordered most of his ships to launch suicide runs on Cyrus’ larger ships, like the Rashnu. He hopes to cripple the major vessels and potentially kill Cyrus. That’s probably what the boarding troops were doing here. Why else send mercenary Terrans aboard? So yeah, the fleet will survive, well, some of it.”

  Tamara rubbed her face, her body still wracked from the pain in her leg.

  “Cyrus, where is here? Is he on board?” she asked, already forgetting what she had been told in the last few minutes.

  Glaucon helped her away from the screen.

  “No, he got off the minute we were rammed. Most of the Anusiyans boarded landing craft twenty minutes ago. He is launching a full-scale ground attack on the Imperial compound. Cyrus means to end this war once and for all.”

  Xenophon stepped away and beckoned to the T-junction ahead.

  “Right leads to the weapons arrays and evacuation point, left goes further inside.”

  “So?” replied Glaucon. “We need to get off the ship, so take the right.”

  Xenophon paused, much to the surprise of the others.

  “I don’t know. We could stay on board, ride the ship through the atmosphere and then use the evacuation pods to escape.”

  Roxana looked at him and laughed.

  “Are you serious? Why bother? The chances of surviving re-entry are low, and we still have to get off the ship. Let’s stick to the plan and get out now!”

  Another heavy impact shook the corridor, forcing them to move. Xenophon followed Artemas. She had taken the right turn and was already well on her way to reaching the weapons array deck. The others gave chase and in less than three minutes, all of them were in the ruins of the deck. Boxes of parts and bodies from both sides lay around the gun mounts. Artemas lifted her hand and pointed to a series of dull yellow dots. They moved to the end and veered off into a poorly lit area.

  “That’s the place!”

  She ran towards it. Glaucon and Xenophon helped Tamara, and they all chased after her. The bend led to a line of circular entrances, of which only two remained open. The others were sealed up and showed signs of thermal scoring. A body lay near the entrance to one of the open doorways. Roxana ignored it and moved inside the waiting escape pod. The others followed her, placing Tamara into one of the thirty seats inside.

  “Why so big?” asked Glaucon as he helped Tamara strap herself in.

  Xenophon sat down next to her and pulled his own straps on.

  “You’ve seen these ships, haven’t you? Over crewed with more people than you could ever possibly need and crewed by people of dubious quality. They probably have a few thousand crew on this ship alone.

  “Few thousand?” said Roxana as she hit the sealant button. The entry door slammed shut, quickly followed by two internal airlock seals. With the final dull thud, the vessel started its automatic escape mode.

  “An Immortal class battleship has over six thousand crew, all automatons plus detachments of Anusiyans for security. Rashnu is bigger again.”

  With that, Roxana dropped into the nearest seat and strapped herself in. A loud clunk indicated they had broken the seal with the super-battleship, and then they were away. Unlike the larger ships, this small vessel was equipped with a number of photosensitive reinforced glass portholes. They were double layered and small, but did allow a view of the battle as the craft drifted downwards.

  “Look at it, have you ever seen a battle like this before?” asked Glaucon.

  Roxana shook her head.

  “No, not even the fighting at Fort Plymouth matched this.”

  The mention of the massive Alliance space station took Xenophon right back to his time in the Navy. He’d been conscripted like many others to fight in the hopeless war against Laconia. The ambush of the Alliance fleet and the subsequent terrible defeat had shaped all of their futures. Now it was simply referred to as the Battle of Aegospotami, after the region of space. It had been the final climatic battle of the war, with the result being the unconditional of surrender of Attica and occupation by Laconian soldiers.

  “At least this is a battle,” he added, still bitter about what had happened.

  “You were at Aegospotami?”Artemas asked. Until now she had seemed uninterested in their tales of battles past.

  Both Xenophon and Roxana looked to her, surprised at her interest and also suspicious of the tone in her voice. There had been rumours during the war about possible military assistance by the Medes on the side of Laconia, but it had never been proven.

  “Why the interest, Artemas?” asked Roxana.

  Artemas looked back to the window and the space battle. The beams of light lit up her face through the photosensitive glass and flickered in a kaleidoscope of colours.

  “My uncle told me about the battle. He spent a lot of time with Terrans after the death of his father Darius. That is where he came across people like Clearchus and the other Dukas. He told me it was your feelings of superiority over our people that gave him the idea to create the Black Legion.”

  Tamara turned from her view out of the window and to Artemas. She looked genuinely interested in the last part of what she had to say.

  “Cyrus’ father, Darius? Wasn’t he the Emperor?”

  Artemas smiled at her.

  “Yes, he was the God King, sometimes called the Great King or the Emperor. They are one and the same for our people. Cyrus and his brother were both there when Darius died. Tissaphernes the Betrayer accused my uncle of plotting to overthrow Artaxerxes, the new Emperor. He was to be executed, but his mother, Parysatis, persuaded him to send Cyrus to the border. That was where he met many Terrans, and once you had finished your wars, what did he find?”
>
  Glaucon nodded at this point.

  “Terran worlds occupied by the League, disgruntled citizens, exiles and soldiers without work.”

  “So that was how he started this whole expedition,” explained Xenophon to himself, loud enough for the others to hear. He looked back to Artemas.

  “I thought Cyrus had explained to our commanders that he had chosen his place on the border. It was something to do with an argument. Is this the same story?”

  She smiled.

  “Xenophon, you should know by now that the same event often comes with many different stories. The facts are simple. There was a disagreement with the brothers, and Cyrus travelled to the border with the Terran worlds.”

  Glaucon laughed.

  “And now we are in the heart of Median territory with a mixed army of Medes and Terrans to topple the God King,” he said, slowly but sarcastically.

  The windows of the module became darker as they reacted with the growing heat outside of the craft. Streaks of flame filled the view, and then they turned completely black. It was as though the glass itself had become scorched from the intense heat.

  “Re-entry, great,” muttered Glaucon.

  “Uh, where are we going, anyway?” asked Tamara.

  Her question seemed to wake up both Glaucon and Xenophon. They realised that none of them had even discussed where to go. Xenophon nearly panicked until he spotted Artemas pointing at the control unit in front of her.

  “I set the co-ordinates when we ran in here. The fleet has been making a large number of drops in one particular area. That is where we are going.”

  “What?” Glaucon said angrily.

  “Well, where would you suggest we go?”

  Glaucon shook his head but didn’t reply. Xenophon could see he was angry but probably down to the situation, not so much the actual decision.

  “It’s not like we could have stayed in orbit. We were too low anyway, and the escape pods don’t have the power to get away from the pull of the planet. If we stayed up there, we’d probably get picked off in the battle. Even a fighter could destroy us with a single attack.”

  They all knew she was right, but as the flames moved from the windows, they could see the clear skies around the pod and what lay beneath them. It wasn’t a world of trees, rivers and tranquillity. Instead, it was the heavily built-up planet of Cunaxa Secundus.

  “Have you seen this place?” asked Xenophon. He leaned forward to look through the small forward facing windows. Directly in front of them were majestic spires, some even larger than those on Kashan. Mighty buildings, towers and huge walls made the city look more like a massive fortress.

  “This is the Citadel of Cunaxa,” Artemas said proudly.

  As they moved closer, they could see that all of the buildings in the area paled to insignificance compared to the natural peak in the centre of the capital; it was surrounded by a dozen star-shaped fortresses and massive walls. Each one was fitted with towers and bristling with turrets. Even more terrifying were the hundreds of fighters and landing craft dashing about in the skies, as the transports of Lord Cyrus disgorged thousands of warriors outside the walls. Streaks of smoke trailed behind damaged fighters and dozens of explosions marked where the fighting was the most severe. Even the sky around the city had darkened from the volume of fires, explosions and weapons fire. Artemas turned from the inferno, looking at them with a grim expression on her face.

  “The Battle of Cunaxa has truly begun.”

  Xenophon nodded and unclipped himself to check on the equipment in the small craft. Like all escape pods and lifeboats, it was equipped with emergency supplies as well as spare equipment, armour and even weapons. It wasn’t perfect, but anything was better than landing unarmed. Upon finding the lockers, he stopped alongside Tamara and looked at her medical gown.

  “You should get ready. In a few minutes we’ll land, and I don’t think a gown is how you want to face Artaxerxes today.”

  She tried to lean forward, but the straps held her firmly in place. Glaucon motioned for her to stay there and opened up the lockers containing emergency provisions, food, flares and clothing. There were a number of Medes jumpsuits and overalls. He grabbed a few and threw them over to her. She grabbed the first and held it in front of her. It was light grey and baggy, like something a deckhand would wear while repairing an engine.

  “Are you kidding me?”

  Glaucon laughed, throwing over boots and a belt.

  “There isn’t that much in here. It’s mainly cold gear, layers and boots. You can stay with the robe if you want. I’m sure storming a fortress will be easy in that thing!”

  Xenophon opened up the last of the internal containers. He paused in surprise, lifting out a piece of chest armour. It was light but surprisingly strong. What was really unexpected was that it was shaped for the female chest.

  “Nice,” Glaucon gloated, enjoying Tamara’s discomfort; she so often jibbed and annoyed him.

  Tamara shook her head in amusement and unclipped her straps on the seat.

  “Nice, just keep passing it all back.”

  They continued dragging it all out until the small craft was filled with an odd assortment of gear. Most of it was useless, and even Roxana could find few uses for survival rations. The prospect of landing under fire was of far more concern to her than what she would be eating in a week’s time. Tamara, on the other hand, had already stripped off her gown to reveal nothing but her pale flesh and more than a few scars. Glaucon and Xenophon looked away, both embarrassed, but Roxana was unable to tear her eyes away.

  “Uh, Tamara. What happened to you?”

  The young woman pulled on the baggy grey overalls, pulling the belt tight across her waist. It was all less than flattering. She looked to Glaucon and Xenophon, but they had turned their attention to the weapons. On the floor next to her was the chest armour. She lifted it up, groaned slightly as the pain returned to her damaged leg. It wasn’t the perfect shape for her, but it at least looked more feminine than the overalls. She held it to her front and nodded to Roxana.

  “Can you give me a hand with this thing?”

  Roxana pulled the straps, and the armour moved into position. Tamara continued fitting on anything she could find of use before answering Roxana’s question.

  “You know the kind of work I used to do. Well, it didn’t always work out so well. In that business when things go bad, you get punished. I told you I was looking for something better.”

  She twisted her neck to look at the woman.

  “Don’t worry, though. Anybody that touched and hurt me got added to my list.”

  Xenophon heard the last bit as he slammed in a magazine into one of the Medes combat rifles. It was one of their standard issue pulse weapons, not particularly different to the Doru weapons used by the Arcadians and also by Roxana.

  “Your list?” he asked with raised eyebrows.

  Tamara tilted her head to the weapons, and Xenophon tossed the rifle over to her. She grabbed it and lifted the stock to her shoulder to check the feel. It looked oversized on her small frame and odd assortment of clothing. Once satisfied, Tamara lowered the butt of the weapon to the floor.

  “My list is up here,” she explained, tapping her head.

  “Everybody that has screwed with me so far has paid.”

  Xenophon wanted to laugh, but the look on her face, and his knowledge of what she was capable of, did nothing but send a shudder through his body. Only Glaucon seemed unperturbed by her words.

  “Hey, little girl, I take it we aren’t on your list?”

  She smiled back at him.

  “You’re still alive, aren’t you?”

  They all returned to their seats and pulled on their straps. The counter on the wall might not be in their language, but the dial clearly showed they would soon be on the ground. They watched through their nearest windows at the sight of ship after ship making its way down to the burning city and the great Citadel that pushed up from its core.

 
CHAPTER TEN

  Citadel of Cunaxa, Cunaxa Secundus

  The last kilometre to the surface was the roughest of the entire trip after escaping from the stricken Rashnu. Flak guns, pulse fire and missiles tore the skies apart as yet more craft swept down to disgorge their warriors into the fray; at least those that managed to avoid the gauntlet of firepower before crashing into the city as burning wrecks. Roxana had taken the controls; against the complaints of Glaucon who was convinced he was the better pilot. She’d manoeuvred them over the last hill range and brought them low of the landing grounds where so many craft had positioned themselves. Lines of tracer fire arced upwards, each stream seeking a target to cut apart. All the others could do was hold on to their seats and pray they would land in one piece.

  “Come on, put us down!” Glaucon growled.

  “Not yet, I’m taking us to the forward position where Cyrus has established his frontline. The IFF signals show that troops from Meno’s ships have landed as well. Cyrus must have persuaded him to help.”

  She paused for a moment before adding. “Unless you’re planning on waiting this one out in the rear?”

  Tamara chortled at the implied cowardice, looking away to ignore the glares from Glaucon. The craft shuddered as Roxana lifted the nose slightly to avoid gunfire and then dropped back down. Two rockets narrowly missed them, and then they were over the secondary landing area. They moved over three landed transport just seconds before one exploded in a massive orange fireball that sent metal and bodies flying in all directions. Xenophon watched the destruction as they screamed past.

  “Glaucon’s right. We need to get down. The numbers aren’t on our side.”

  Roxana banked the craft to the right and aimed directly at the outer walls of the Citadel.

  “Okay, I have a drop zone, three hundred metres ahead. Hold on!”

  She dropped the nose, jinking from side to side to avoid incoming fire as she closed the distance. It was incredible flying, and even Glaucon kept his mouth shut as they covered the short distance. Roxana said no more until they reached their glide path and started the landing procedure. The vessel deployed landing skids and the main engines reversed thrust at the last moment so that it feathered just before touching down. They made contact with the ground with a loud crunch and then off came their straps. Glaucon was first up and slammed his fist against the airlock seal. The first opened quickly, and he turned to help the others leave the craft. By the time he’d helped Tamara up, the warm air outside had wafted into the vessel.