Gates of Cilicia bls-1 Read online

  “Well, there are benefits to living there. But don’t forget that as citizens we’d be required to serve in the military. Somehow, I don’t see you as a Laconian heavy infantryman! Come on, we know what will happen here, so let’s vote and get on with something a little more interesting.”

  Xenophon moved to the nearest unoccupied display unit. At first glance, it could have been nothing more than a shimmer in front of the stone wall, but it was in fact a fully detailed visual display. He moved his hands in front of his body to operate the touchless interface. It worked by using a mixture of movement and gesture recognition.

  “Good day, Xenophon, please enter your citizen ID code,” said the machine in a gentle, female voice.

  With a few deft movements, he entered the data and was presented with three options to choose from. The first was to vote for the calling up of the citizen Armada, the second to vote against the proposal, and the third and final option was the abstain choice. He gazed at the three for a few seconds as he ran the idea over in his head.

  If we call up the Armada, then all of us, probably me, and most of my friends, will be sent off to fight the Laconians. To what end? The idiots! I’ll never vote for our citizens, my friends or my family to go to war, just so some liberal students can get what they want, he thought angrily.

  With a flick of his wrist, he selected the no vote and confirmed his decision. He turned back his waiting friend.

  “Okay, your turn, Glaucon. Make sure you select the correct option, want me to do it for you?”

  The young man stepped past Xenophon, throwing him a grin as he took up his position in front of the unit. Xenophon looked at the hundreds of citizens, and most were either using the machines or talking with their comrades as they waited. Most would have been proud of what they saw taking place, but Xenophon had nothing but distrust in his mind when it concerned his fellow citizens. They were quick to judge and would praise a man just as quickly as they would condemn him.

  “Okay, done. What say you come with me and join my family for a celebratory dinner party? My brother Polemarchus is back, and I’m sure he would like to meet you. Cephalus and his friends will be there if you’re interested. You’ll remember the last time we were all together, when you got into that argument about who was most wise.”

  “Yes, I seem to recall you all sided against the Admiral,” answered a slightly bitter Xenophon.

  “True. Still, you can’t win them all.”

  “Perhaps. Though if you recall, the messengers arrived a week later showing the Admiral was in fact innocent. If the citizen vote hadn’t been so hasty, the Admiral could have heard the apology rather than being sent into exile.”

  Glaucon looked to Xenophon and sighed.

  “Look, if this vote goes the way you think, then it might be the last time we will all get together, so come on, you know you want to. It sounds good, you coming?”

  Xenophon considered the offer for a moment, but shook his head.

  “Sorry, I need to get my books ready for next week. I’ve got some big tests coming up as you know.”

  “Kratez will be there,” said Glaucon, as if the mere mention of his name would sway him. He had obviously been keeping the man’s name quiet to hold it as a trump card in case Xenophon refused the offer. Xenophon looked surprised.

  “Really? I’ve not seen him in months. I thought he was teaching at the Academy.”

  “He was, but he has two weeks off for vacation and is spending two days of it with my family. Now, are you going home to look at books, or are you coming to my home for an argument with the smartest man in the Alliance?”

  Xenophon looked back at the Ecclesia and then to Glaucon. His friend had a pleading look that he simply couldn’t avoid any longer.

  “Okay, I need to drop my stuff off. I will be around in an hour.”

  “Excellent, don’t be too late!”

  Glaucon moved off along the path, and Xenophon stood silently, hoping, even praying that the vote would be a no. Most citizens didn’t seem that concerned as to which way it would go, but something deep inside him told him the vote would have greater repercussions than anybody could expect. He could only hope.

  Xenophon climbed out of the taxicab and handed the driver his identity card. With a light blue flash it confirmed the payment. With a polite goodbye the man closed the door and drove off, leaving him on the pavement. He was stood outside his friend’s house, a lavish home made of local stone and four storeys high. It had been in the hands of Glaucon’s family for six generations and was one of the tallest private homes in the city. Two statues of the ancient human goddess Athene flanked the grand entrance. They were symbols of the state and often present on public buildings. It didn’t surprise Xenophon to see them as Glaucon’s family had a long history of public service. He stepped past them and towards the double doors that led inside. As he approached, a young woman stumbled out. Her clothing was skimpy with her arms, legs and midriff all exposed. Xenophon caught her as she teetered on one foot and sent them both crashing against the statue.

  “Are you okay?” he asked with genuine concern.

  The inebriated woman tried to stand and almost collapsed again.

  “I’m fine. Who…who are you?” she asked and then fell limp in his arms. For a second he panicked, thinking there was a serious problem. Glaucon appeared at the doorway with a glass of wine in one hand and another scantily clad woman draped around his arm.

  “Xenophon, you made it…and only two hours late!”

  “I, uh, found her outside,” said a slightly embarrassed Xenophon.

  “Oh, yeah, she’s one of the dancers. Bring her inside.”

  Xenophon stepped through the two thick doors and into the dark, smoky hallway. Several young men and women were leaning and laughing at something. He moved past them, but no one seemed in the slightest concerned at their almost unconscious friend. He finally reached the end of the corridor and the open expanse of the reception area. To Glaucon and his family it was one of many rooms, but to the rest of them it was more like a great hall. Chairs and seating lay about, and almost twenty people smoked, drank or danced away.

  “Xenophon!” called out a familiar voice. He helped lower the woman to a reclining chair so she could rest. He then headed to the group of people and the man that had just called his name. As he approached, he recognised the beard and bald head of his old mentor, Kratez.

  “Kratez, you are here,” he said with genuine pleasure. He moved up to the old man and pulled him close. In years past, Xenophon had attended many of the old master’s classes and lectures. He had often pushed the young man to question everything. It made neither of them popular, but it had forced Xenophon to think about everything he did, and so he hoped it had made him a better man.

  “Of course, I couldn’t miss the vote now could I?” he replied with a smile.

  The two sat down in the long reclining seats. A young woman approached with a silver tray upon which sat a decanter and a number of beautifully carved crystal glasses.

  “Fortified wine, sir?” she asked them both.

  Kratez made a happy sound and grabbed the nearest glass. Xenophon waited until he was done before accepting a glass for himself. She poured the dark red wine until both were satisfied.

  “Ah, this is more like it. They’ve been getting quite stingy when it comes to drink at the Academy.”

  Xenophon took a measure, moving the liquid about his mouth before swallowing. It had a warm glow as it slid down, instantly calming him. He turned to Glaucon who seemed busy chatting with a group of young people.

  “Excellent wine, old chap, thank you.”

  Glaucon raised his glass but didn’t turn from his conversation.

  “So, Xenophon? Tell me about your studies. I assume you have continued your work on the classics as well as the more philosophical arts.”

  “I’ve also delved into work on machine learning,” Xenophon answered, doing his best to impress the old man but without sounding too co
cky.

  “Good, it is a good idea to keep one’s mind occupied with the myriad of subjects available to us. How about your study of the martial arts, have you been keeping busy?”

  Xenophon looked a little embarrassed at the question.

  “Well, boy, come on, tell me.”

  “The Boule discussed the martial arts academy I was helping to run, and they voted to shut it down.”

  “Why?”

  Xenophon shrugged.

  “We had a few injuries in the hand-to-hand weapons training, a few broken bones with the staffs. Nothing major, but the safety commission became involved and came to the conclusion our training was dangerous, and therefore shouldn’t be allowed.”

  Kratez sighed.

  “I see, this is perhaps one of the many reasons we suffer when forced to fight our enemies at close quarters.”

  “Have you tried to explain this to the Military Academy?”

  “Of course, my boy. The trouble is, there is still the opinion that our Navy is all we need to defend the Alliance. Providing no enemy reaches this solid earth, we will be safe,” he explained, as he reached down and tapped the ground. He tried to lift himself back up but groaned at the discomfort. Xenophon helped him back to his seat.

  “Thank you,” he said with genuine warmth. “Now, let’s see some of this banned training.”

  “Training?” asked Xenophon, now both a little confused and also dulled by the wine.

  “Yes, the hand-to-hand training you’re so fond of.”

  “Oh, I see.”

  Xenophon looked about the room until he found Glaucon with the two young ladies still draped around his arms.

  “Glaucon!” he called, but the man was far too preoccupied.

  Xenophon stood and moved towards him. As he came closer, he recognised one of the ladies from his classes at the university.

  “Aurora?”

  She turned and looked up to him. Her pale face looked pallid in the dull light, and her eyes rolled, the obvious consequence of excessive amounts of liquor. Still no reply, so he reached out, turning Glaucon around to face him.

  “Easy, Xenophon, can’t you see I’m busy?”

  “Kratez would like a demonstration of close combat.”

  “Would he now? Well, go and tell him I have other kinds of combat in mind.”

  He turned back to the two ladies, but something had caught their interest. Aurora swayed around him and placed one hand across his face.

  “Go on, Glaucon. We want to see you fight!” she said with a wide smile.

  He leaned forward and planted his lips firmly on hers. She stayed for a few seconds before pulling back.

  “Fight first, I want to see you.”

  He looked back to Xenophon and then to Aurora.

  “Okay, fine, but afterwards we get to do a bit of fighting on our own. Deal?”

  He stood up, and Aurora slid back onto her back, rolling sideways as provocatively as she could. He looked at her, waiting for an answer, but she gave the impression she had already forgotten whatever he had just said.

  “Uh, sure, baby,” she said with a smile.

  Glaucon stepped up to Xenophon. He swayed slightly, but was far below the levels of drunkenness he had seen at other dinner parties. He indicated for Xenophon to follow him, and the two moved to a pair of thick wooden chests. As they moved, the rest of the guests chattered excitedly. It was clear there was about to be some kind of display or demonstration. Glaucon pulled up the lid of the first chest to reveal a mass of training weapons and padding. He looked over his shoulder to Xenophon.

  “What did you have in mind?”

  Xenophon looked inside and reached in to withdraw a long, slender looking sword. The blade was over a metre long and tapered to a safety tip, so the weapon could be used without causing serious injury. It was a traditional weapon from the violent past of the seventeenth century back on Earth.

  “Really? You want to play with rapiers? How about something more manly?”

  “Like what?” Xenophon asked.

  Glaucon reached in and withdrew a short, broad bladed sword. It was specially designed to match the weight and handling characteristics of an actual sword but safe with both its edge and tip. It looked like metal but was in fact made from advanced polymers for longevity and safety. He held it out with his right hand and twirled it about. Xenophon looked on with a look of almost irritation about his face.

  “You finished yet?” he asked sarcastically. “Why don’t we use the bucklers as well?”

  Glaucon shrugged and moved to the second chest. He lifted the lid and pulled out a pair of bucklers. Made from hardened plastic, they looked like the original metal designs from which they were based upon. He threw one to Xenophon and placed the second in his left hand. Xenophon reached down and pulled out another of the training swords.

  “Come on, show us some skin!” called out one of the women.

  Glaucon needed no further encouragement and, in an impressive display of speed, pulled off his jacket and shirt so that he was naked from the waist up. Xenophon watched him with annoyance.

  “Really? Any excuse to rip off your shirt.”

  “Come on, Xenophon!” called out an unseen voice from the group. “Show us what you’ve got.”

  Xenophon refused and stood in the clothes he had arrived in. Taunts and jibes quickly spread about the group, and still he refused. It wasn’t that he was scared of Glaucon; it was just that he knew the man would play to the crowd. That, mixed with the large quantity of alcohol he had consumed, could prove to be a perfect combination of ugliness that might end with one or both of them being seriously injured, until he relented.

  “Okay, okay!”

  He placed the training weapons on top of the chest and carefully undid his jacket. Glaucon started to pace, but it was obvious to Xenophon he was just playing with the crowd. The two shared many interests, but in terms of character, they were a world apart. Where Xenophon was reserved and intellectual, Glaucon was passionate and extroverted. A cheer rang out as he removed his shirt and placed it next to his jacket. The two men collected their weapons and moved off to the middle of the room. More people arrived from the other room until there must have been over thirty spectators. At least half were inebriated with alcohol. Kratez moved to the two men and stepped between them.

  “Okay, gentlemen, give us a clean, honourable demonstration of your skills. How will you decide the victor?”

  Glaucon called over to them both, “Last man standing wins.”

  Kratez turned to Xenophon and lifted an eyebrow in question. Xenophon wasn’t happy, but he really couldn’t back down at the challenge. He nodded in agreement. Kratez stepped back and looked to the crowd. There was a reasonable amount of space for dancing or even fighting in the middle of the room, but it wasn’t massive. A number of chairs, seats and tables were dotted about. Drinks rested on many surfaces, and the dull light was darkened further by thick smoke.

  “Let’s do this!” called out Glaucon.

  Kratez stepped back, and the two men moved forward to start their demonstration. They were of a similar height and build with both just under two metres tall. Glaucon was slightly larger built, but both had the bodies of athletic young men who had never faced the hardship of physical labour. Xenophon lowered his sword behind him and to the right, pushing out his buckler in front. Glaucon, on the other hand, moved to an aggressive stand with the blade held up at shoulder height, and his hand protected by the buckler.

  “Ladies and gentlemen, this demonstration is of traditional European sword and buckler combat. It is an old fighting form used for hundreds of years. The sword would have been sharp on both edges and along the tip. Note the lack of hand protection, a major weakness of this type of sword. The buckler, or small shield, in the left hand is primarily for protection,” Kratez explained, before being interrupted by the first clash.

  Glaucon lurched forward and zigzagged towards Xenophon. As he came into range, he cut down and to his left.
The blade passed under his buckler and slid against the rim of Xenophon’s own buckler. He then followed up with a cut back along the same arc of attack but with the back of the sword. His final movement in his initial attack was a quick twist of the wrist. It delivered a deadly horizontal cut that almost connected with Xenophon’s neck. The young man leapt backwards and crashed into a table, sending drinks and glass to the floor.

  “Nice try, Glaucon!” laughed Xenophon as he straightened himself up.

  Xenophon jumped forward delivering a feint to Glaucon’s chest. As the blade moved in to parry, he lifted his hand and twisted the blade around to cut into his shoulder with the back of the blade. It struck hard, and the impact made Glaucon drop his own sword. The audience cheered lustily at the sight of the blow being struck.

  “Are you alright?” asked Xenophon, concerned that he might have hurt his friend.

  Glaucon lifted his blade and swung it around, flexing his wrist. He stepped in, saying nothing. Xenophon could sense the hostility and anger in the young man, so moved his sword and buckler forward. He’d been in this situation before, where one fighter had been struck and was keen to retaliate to try and wipe the shame. The attacks came in hard and fast. He was forced to use his buckler and sword to fend off a dozen strikes before taking cover behind one of the many floor-to-ceiling pillars.

  “You’re not making much progress are you?” he laughed, more out of nervous surprise at not being hit than from arrogance.

  “Funny!” muttered Glaucon, and he rushed forward. Sensing an opportunity, Xenophon ducked low and lifted his buckler up to protect his head. He stabbed forward and directly into the centre of his opponent’s body mass. Glaucon smashed his blade down hard but was deflected by his buckler. The blade struck him just below the sternum and knocked him back almost a metre before he was able to stand upright. If it had been a sharp sword, it would have penetrated through his body and pushed out of his back.

  The crowd cheered their approval, and Kratez stepped forward to intercede. The old man may be too frail to engage in the same kind of activity, but he knew full well when a fight was about to move from a friendly exchange to something more serious.