Black Legion: 05 - Sea of Fire Page 5

  “What will you do?”

  Xenophon looked at him and shook his head.

  “Whatever I can.”

  * * *

  Seconds passed by as the cruiser left its position among the fleet and headed toward the outpost. The nearest Median transporters moved out of the way, but not one shot was fired, much to Xenophon’s amazement. A pair of Attican fighters followed them down but left when remote gun turrets locked onto them. The cruiser was ungainly, yet managed to maneuver between the lines of ships, past two gantry arms, and down to the landing platform. The large flat section was hexagonal in shape and connected to the central structure via a long walkway of nearly five meters in width and almost fifty meters in length.

  “What if they open fire?” Glaucon asked.

  Xenophon raised his eyebrows in an optimistic gesture.

  “Let’s hope that doesn’t happen, for all our sakes.”

  The ship groaned as it twisted about for the final approach. He checked the status indicators for his squad and then on his own weapons. As they waited, they continued forward until it was the single closest craft to the landing platform.

  “Sixty seconds,” said the Kentarchos’ voice over the ship’s speakers.

  Xenophon looked to Artemas and then to the massive blast doors. They were protected by a secondary set of doors that while much smaller, were able to lock bars into place in case of an emergency breach. The exterior of the doors led directly into space, and nothing remaining but the single layer of the protective energy shield at that point.

  This had better work.

  Xenophon knew he was doing the right thing, but the nagging thought in the back of his mind was that when the doors opened, the Medes would cut them down. There was an argument for just heading to the outpost with all guns blazing, but unlike Chirisophus, he knew exactly where that would leave them. Assuming they were forced into battle, there was a good chance the entire outpost could be crippled or even destroyed. His body tingled as he anticipated the pulse round impacts.

  Just pray they aren’t that stupid.

  Even though there had been no sign of a battle, he was still sure this aggressive move by the Strategos would backfire. There was little doubt they would win a stand up fight, but the repercussions for the fleet could spell disaster. He just hoped the Strategos was beginning to understand that.

  “Topoteretes,” said the Kentarchos through his earpiece.

  “What is it, Kentarchos?”

  “Strategos Chirisophus wants to know what you’re doing. His landing party has been forced back to avoid striking us. He wants to speak with you.”

  Xenophon coughed as he cleared his throat.

  “Tell him I am taking a landing party to the platforms. I will negotiate safe passage through the Carduchian Wilderness; obtain a guide, and a trading agreement. Make sure he keeps the Legion back.”

  “But, Topoteretes, I don’t think it...”

  “Don’t think,” Xenophon interrupted, “Just do it.”

  Xenophon could tell Kentarchos Cadmus was not happy at having to deal with the Strategos like this. The two, while not enemies, were also not exactly the greatest of friends. The Boeotians and Laconians had fought as allies in the past, just as much as they had fought as enemies. A greater problem, however, was that the Boeotians were becoming more and more aware that with all of their combined territories, they actually controlled more land and had a vastly larger population. This growing confidence was something that all Laconians were beginning to worry about.

  Always the same; we have a job to do, and instead we fall to internal politics.

  He almost cut the connection but decided to say one last thing.

  “Kentarchos. We are Terrans, and together we can make it out of Median territory. You saw what happened with Tissaphernes. He almost destroyed the Legion, but we worked together and survived. We can do that again, but only as Terrans. If we separate, they will finish us all off, one group at a time. It is better that we all do the wrong thing together, than just one of us does the right thing.”

  He licked his lip.

  “We negotiate and trade our way through Carduchia, or we fight. There is no middle ground, and every Terran contingent must understand that.”

  “Understood, Topoteretes.”

  Xenophon wasn’t entirely sure he believed the man, but he didn’t have the time to pursue this particular line of argument anymore. He cut the connection and looked at his comrades.

  “Not long now.”

  He wore his Legion uniform, along with his full Spatharii armor, all except for the portable shield generator. His armor, while similar to that worn by the others, had been modified and embellished as a man of his rank was entitled to. The breastplate and greaves were normally dull and plain, but his were marked with iconography from Attica and also Laconia, something of a recent addition. The breastplate was a replacement for the one that had sustained damage on Cunaxa, and had been given to him, along with a new helm as a gift from Chirisophus on his promotion to Strategos. The helm was a traditional Corinthian, with nose and cheek protection. More importantly, it was topped with a black and white plume of stiff horsehair. On his left arm he carried his prized Asgeirr-Carbine and on his right, the Asgeirr-Carbine given to him by Clearchus during his fall on Cunaxa.

  “You look such the soldier,” said Artemas.

  The sarcasm was obvious enough that Tamara burst out into laughter. All of them apart from Artemas wore the same equipment, but Roxana and Glaucon only bore the icons of Attica, a mark of their connection with the homeworld. Tamara fidgeted as she adjusted her tightly molded chest armor.

  “What’s wrong, pup?” asked Glaucon while grinning at Xenophon.

  “This armor. You can tell it was made by a man, how are you supposed to move in it?”

  Artemas had grabbed her Imperial regalia as they’d made their way down to the hangar. Though she wore her modified Terran armor, her clothing was Median. The long gown was skin tight and bright white. Her long black boots matched the armor, and her head was unadorned so that everybody could see her face and her long hair.

  “Are you planning on subduing them with your looks?” Glaucon asked.

  Artemas looked to the blast door and answered without bothering to show him any attention.

  “These are border worlds people. They may appear primitive, but they can survive out here with minimal supplies, and the Imperial Fleet has never been able to control them. They will negotiate when pushed, but they will pull back if threatened. Terran power and Imperial authority should do the trick.”

  “No purple?” Xenophon asked.

  She smiled and lifted her hands to adjust the back of her collar. As she removed her hands, both of which were clad in long black gloves that run to the forearms, something moved at her neck. A light, silken cloak fell down behind her to barely touch the ground. It was dark purple with hints of crimson. Depending on the light, it could have been taken as the red of Laconia or even purple.

  “Nice,” said Tamara.

  She was evidently impressed.

  “Where have you been hiding that?”

  Artemas shook her head left and right and straightened her hair out. It now ran in equal measure down her shoulders and to the middle of her back.

  “That’s a secret.”

  She then turned her head around to look at Xenophon.

  “The Imperial Purple is the last touch. Let’s hope it helps. I’m not one for reminding others of my connection to...”

  Xenophon nodded.

  “We know. It’s okay.”

  The ship settled onto the platform, and the blast doors opened up. The view greeting them was of a long, empty docking arm that was shielded right up to the outpost structures. Xenophon stepped out first, Roxana and Tamara flanking him. Artemas followed; Glaucon right beside her with his pulse cannon resting up against his shoulder.

  “What do you think?” he asked.

  Xenophon kept moving forward, deliberatel
y not wanting to look concerned or nervous. Although nobody was there to greet them, it would have been extremely unlikely for them not to be observed from another position.

  “Keep going forward. We need this to look official.”

  The small group of five made it halfway across the long, slender platform before they spotted movement. A door opened in a corkscrew fashion, and out came a single Carduchian male, tall, regal, and dressed in his finery. The cloth was cut tight and in brown tones. He wore a pair of crossed bandoliers across his chest and a soft cap underneath a Carduchian helm. He was little different in build to Xenophon and carried a curved blade on his flank. Xenophon looked behind him to Artemas who gave him a nod and stepped to the front of the group.

  “Leave this to me. I know their people.”

  They stopped just as another four Carduchians emerged. Each was dressed in variations of the tribal clothing worn by the first. The difference with this group was the weaponry. Much like the Medes, they carried long rifles, yet these were even bigger. Each weapon was at least the same height as the person carrying it.

  “Some nice fowling pieces, there,” said Glaucon dismissively.

  Artemas threw him a withering glance.

  “Those are no hunting rifles. They are Carduchian Banduqia. You want to stay away from them.”

  Xenophon raised his right arm slightly in salute.

  “We bring greetings from...”

  “Why do you bring war to our domain?” the Carduchian asked in angry tones.

  The other four lowered their weapons and pointed them at the group. Artemas ignored them and pushed ahead so that she was an equal distance between both groups. They exchanged words that were far from pleasant. The arguments went back and forth several minutes.

  “What’s the problem?” Tamara asked, “I thought Artemas had authority.”

  Roxana shook her head.

  “Nobody has authority out here. Carduchia might be part of the Empire, but the Medes don’t control this place. Last time an Imperial army came through they vanished.”

  Tamara looked up to Xenophon.

  “And you think this is safer than the Core Worlds?”

  Artemas looked back at them and sighed.

  “They were warned by agents of the Empire before we arrived. The Great King has been calling on Satrapies to send their tithes to the Core Worlds.”

  “Why?” asked Roxana, “Because of us?”

  Artemas shook her head.

  “I don’t know, and they aren’t giving up the information. All I do know is that he says ships from every corner of the Empire are assembling for something big.”

  Glaucon nodded toward Tamara.

  “At least we know we chose the right course. The Core Worlds would have been a death warrant. Do you know how many ships the entire Empire can raise?”

  Tamara said nothing, giving little away. Xenophon moved closer to the Carduchian leader and then turned his head to Artemas.

  “What’s his name?”

  “Hakim, he would give me no other details.”

  Xenophon’s brow tightened. Hakim was a common enough name in these parts, but it told him nothing of his background, family, or position. He looked at Hakim and did his best to size him up. The clothing and weaponry suggested he was a Carduchian warrior, but the way the other four were subservient, suggested he was one of their leaders, if not the leader of the outpost.

  “I am Xenophon, second-in-command of this expedition. We are on our way home and seek food and supplies. We would also...”

  Hakim snapped back at him with few words. Artemas stepped closer to Xenophon and whispered into his right ear.

  “He says he will not trade with bandits and mongrels from Terra. They will not be friends with the mercenaries.”

  Glaucon went to his side, and two of the Carduchians grumbled at the sight of the weapon on his shoulder. He purposefully kept one hand well away from the deadly looking device. Hakim muttered and then spat on the floor as Artemas explained what they were saying.

  “They don’t like us, but they like you even less.”

  He nodded to Artemas.

  “Didn’t they fight against the Empire?”

  Xenophon looked to his friend and then to Artemas.

  “He’s right. They are hardly your friends, are they?”

  Artemas spoke quietly so that only Xenophon and Glaucon could hear.

  “The Empire maintains control over this region, but they have never stationed military forces out here. Ships and soldiers just disappear weeks after arriving. There is an unwritten agreement. The Imperium stays out of Carduchian affairs, and Carduchia grants free passage to Imperial forces and a tithe of warriors in return.”

  Xenophon and Glaucon must have come to the same idea at exactly the same moment because both began to speak. Glaucon stopped and indicated for his friend to continue.

  “Perfect, so we might have a friend after all.”

  Glaucon nodded, and Xenophon looked back at the Carduchians.

  “We have just fought a battle against Artaxerxes and Tissaphernes. We fought them and beat them. That is why we have so many of their ships, prizes we took in battle.”

  He waited as Artemas translated. The very mention of captured Median ships put a smile on Hakim’s face. He looked to Artemas and spoke just a few words.

  “He said to go on.”

  Xenophon did his best to hide his satisfaction.

  “We first fought Tissaphernes at the Cilician Gates. Then we smashed their shipyards at Khorram.”

  The other four stepped closer to listen to the translation from Artemas.

  “After that, we landed on Cunaxa...”

  “With Medes allies,” added Glaucon.

  Xenophon nodded gently, immediately appreciating the useful set up.

  “We fought Artaxerxes in a ground battle and smashed his troops, even breaching the walls of the Citadel. Our Median allies failed in the final attack, so we decided to leave.”

  That was the part where the Carduchians appeared less impressed.

  “And then?”

  Xenophon took in a long breath before explaining their victory over the fleet under the command of Tissaphernes. It took nearly two more minutes, but by the time he’d finished, the Carduchians were more than impressed. Hakim beckoned toward the large blast doors back at the entry point into their facility. Xenophon nodded politely and indicated for Lady Artemas to join him. They walked with the group toward the doors. As they approached, Hakim spoke into a device on his arm. The door pulsed blue and then swung open. Bright lights inside almost blinded him, and it took him a moment for his eyes to adjust. He heard a noise and looked back. The cruiser’s thrusters were active, and dust bellowed around it.

  “Xenophon?” said a voice in his earpiece.

  Chirisophus, you fool, show patience.

  “Strategos, we are making progress.”

  The Carduchians looked to Artemas for a translation, but none was forthcoming. At the same time, the main engines from the light cruiser powered up, and it began to move well away from the platform. The doors and ramps lifted to leave the small group of Terran on their own.

  “I’m coming down. This is taking too long,” said Chirisophus.

  The five Carduchians went back inside their partially damaged domes. One of them lifted his weapon and took aim at the cruiser but was shouted at by Hakim. The Carduchian looked directly at Xenophon and swore. At least Xenophon assumed that was what he was doing. With a final unfamiliar gesture, he moved inside where he was enveloped by the bright interior lighting. The thin doors twisted back shut, and the energy field reappeared.

  “What’s happening?” Glaucon asked.

  Tamara and Roxana went to the edge of the curbed platform that jutted out like a small ledge from the entrance and out to the connecting bridge. Tamara looked down and then staggered back, as a feeling of vertigo hit her.

  “Weird.”

  Roxana pulled her back a step and then flinched
at the sound of engines. All of them looked up at the shape of four Black Legion dromons, two baring the markings of the Laconians, and another two with Theban markings. As might have been expected, they came down in a fast circle to move in right behind the cruiser as it lifted up.

  “Wait! They are here to trade,” said Xenophon.

  Artemas translated, but the Carduchians were already at the opposite end of the platform. They waited near the doorway and watched as the first two dromons landed. The craft hit the ground hard, too hard. With a squeal and a burst of sparks, the first slid to a stop. The doors hissed open, and out came the large form of the fully armored Chirisophus. As usual, he wore the full Laconian panoply, including armor, weapons, cloak, and shielded left arm. As he stepped out, his cloak flowed behind, making him seem even larger. Laconian spatharii deployed around the platform, as well as an entire ten-man unit of his crimson-cloaked Epilektoi, led by Komes Artemis. Xenophon signaled to them.

  “Strategos, we have this under control.”

  Chirisophus ignored him and marched off the platform and along the bridge. The dromons lifted up, and more came down to deposit troops from the Boeotian contingents. Above them a group of three more dromons were looking for another landing place. Seafox fighters were amongst them, and soon the entire facility was surrounded by a mixture of craft from the different contingents, each desperate to get their hands on much needed supplies.

  “Xenophon, take me to their leader, now,” said Chirisophus.

  Xenophon shook his head and then continued along the bridge, with the other Terrans close behind. Glaucon caught up with him; Roxana and Tamara remained closer to Lady Artemas.

  “What’s the plan? This isn’t going to work out well for us.”

  “Do you think I don’t know this? We have to stop this thing escalating.”

  In seconds they were off the bridge and at the main shielded doorway into the complex. The Carduchians had withdrawn inside and vanished from view. The blast doors were tall and shimmered a dark blue with the energy from an internal generator. Chirisophus looked at it and then to Lady Artemas.

  “Tell them...they have thirty seconds to open the door, or I will open it myself.”