Black Legion: 03 - Warlords of Cunaxa (35 page)

Then she spotted his helmet through all the smoke. The dromon moved until it was just a few metres from the wall they’d already breached. The crew on board opened fire with the door mounted guns and managed to kill two of the Medes plus shattering one of the machines. Roxana grabbed the intercom and called out through the external speakers.

“Get out of there now!”

The face of Artemas turned and looked directly at her on the dromon. She then turned away, presumably talking to those near her. Roxana’s heart skipped a beat as she watched Xenophon and Artemas both lift themselves up and return fire before rushing for the breach.

“Cover them!” shouted Glaucon from his position closer to the rear of the craft. He lurched over as he took aim, and his voice and movement suggested his nerves were at breaking point. Both pintle mounted weapon stations opened up with a terrible effect. Parallel lines of pulse rounds tore into the structure as machines and soldiers tried to intercept the two escaping people. The dromon moved in so close that the backwash from the engines started to pull at the loose masonry from the battle and cast it to the ground.

Roxana spotted Artemas leaping from the edge of the smashed building and was forced to lurch to her right to give her space to land. She made it with just a few centimetres to spare. As soon as her feet hit the metalwork, she spun around to check on Xenophon. He was right behind her but had neither the speed nor the agility of Artemas. He fell short by half a metre, and both Roxana and Artemas had to reach out and grab his arms before he fell away. Laconian soldiers inside the dromon grabbed both of them to prevent the entire group being plucked out of the craft, and then they were away. The roar of the engines and the tapping sound of rounds striking the metal armour signalled the danger they were still in.

“Hold on, we need to get out of here! Scanners show three groups of fighters on an intercept course,” called out the pilot.

Xenophon stood up and looked back at the tracer fire and explosions. Dozens of dromons were lifting off from inside and outside the Citadel while fighters swept in and bombarded any enemy positions that might try to prevent them from escaping. He turned back and nodded to his friends.

“Thank you, I thought we were dead there.”

The pilot then interrupted him before he could continue.

“Dekarchos, I have an urgent message from Topoteretes Pleistoanax. He says three Medes escort destroyers have broken through the blockade and are in the lower atmosphere. They’ve already shot down a rescue dromon and are coming this way with heavy fighter cover.”

He then looked directly to Xenophon.

“He needs the status of the Strategos and the others. Did they get out?”

Xenophon shook his head bitterly.

“No, every single one of them is dead. We were betrayed, all of us.”

A rocket exploded off to their right, and the dromon lost height for a few seconds. The internal alarms sounded. The pilot’s skill was exemplary, however, and he quickly righted the craft and made for the route taken by the other craft. A great aerial battle was underway as newly arrived Medes fighters tried to halt their escape. Xenophon saw Roxana looking at him with a confused look on her face.

“What happened down there?” she asked.

Artemas spoke first though.

“It was Tissaphernes and Meno. The whole thing was a trap, and they butchered them, right as we were discussing peace.”

“What,” shouted out one of the spatharii who was listening intently, “how did they kill the Strategos?”

Xenophon sighed.

“He died surrounded by his enemies. I can’t remember how many he killed, but he died with Kleandridas and the others at his side. Combat drones and Medes warriors overwhelmed them.

“Bastards!” snapped another of the spatharii.

“We have to go back!” called out another. “I’m not leaving this place until we have our revenge.”

The pilot could hear what was going on and nodded to his co-pilot. He then looked back to the men and women in the rear of the craft.

“We can’t go back. The entire Legion is either in the air or dead on the ground. Another ten minutes, and anybody not in space will join them there.”

With that short but brutal assessment, the dromon moved into position with three other similar craft. Two fighters pushed ahead of them to act as escorts, and the entire formation blasted upwards using every amount of available thrust. Glaucon was buffeted about, but the straps holding in position around the side-mounted gun kept him secure. He took aim at one of the enemy craft and called out to the others.

“I don’t like it. Look up there.”

He pointed to a dark cloud of fighters that must have just deployed from the light Medes’ cruisers. Small orange fireballs indicated missile impacts as they fell upon the Terran escorts. Xenophon counted at least fifty dromons in the air, and he knew that half of the Legion could easily be at risk.

Thousands of warriors are now completely defenceless.

“Here they come, hold on!” shouted the pilot.

Shapes from a dozen Medes fighters screamed past with their guns blazing. Terran fighters were hot on their tails, but a number still managed to get their sights on the dromons. Holes appeared on the left side of the vessel, and a number of the soldiers panicked as the air was sucked out violently. Two of the spatharii were struck by metal slugs travelling at hypersonic speeds before exiting on the other side of the craft. The internal repair system vented a gas inside the craft, plugging the breaches with a form of thermal resin. It was temporary but would do the job until they landed, and the damage could be properly fixed.

We’re screwed. The Legion is gone!
Xenophon thought bitterly.

It wasn’t fair. They’d got this far, only to be cut down as they escaped the grasp of Artaxerxes and his traitors. There didn’t appear to be any other casualties in their own dromon, just those unfortunate to have been killed on the last stage of their escape. He looked to Artemas and couldn’t hide his admiration, not just for her beauty but also for her stoic courage. He would be dead if it were not for her, and that made him even angrier at their predicament. The sky darkened as a massive black shape blocked out the light from the sun for a few seconds.

“Gods! It’s Damnation!”

Xenophon had no idea what she meant until he saw the shape of the aged Terran battleship dropping through the atmosphere. Its entire under surface appeared to be burning away, and it left a trail of fire and smoke like a shooting star heading to the surface.

What the hell are they doing?

Xenophon assumed, like most of the others, that the ship had lost power and been pulled down through the atmosphere. Instead though, this one seemed to be slowing down, and her weapons systems were busy launching projectiles in all directions.

“It’s Pleistoanax,” said one of the Laconian soldiers on board.

They all watched as the burning craft unleashed a torrent of firepower that cut a swath through the enemy craft, giving the dromons the window they needed to blast up and away from Cunaxa. Every single pilot took advantage of the respite they had been granted and accelerated away. As the flotilla of small craft rushed past the burning ship, Xenophon looked back. He felt both anger and sadness at seeing the burning warship as she fell ever downwards, her guns firing continually like a fallen beast lashing out at its attacker. Hundreds of small explosions surrounded her bulk and it was clear, at least to him, that the ship had lost its ability to pull back into orbit. His thoughts were answered when the ship broke apart just half a kilometre above the city of Cunaxa itself. Fuel, ammunitions and burning chunks of metal rained down upon the city and its mighty Citadel. The flames and flashes vanished as they moved up and out of the atmosphere and to the fleet of waiting ships. The Titans and the escorting battleships were drawn up in a defensive formation with hundreds of small vessels moving soldiers, equipment and survivors to safety.

“What do we do now?” asked Tamara, still nursing her injuries and until now, silent in the dromon. Glaucon looked over from his position at the gun on the flank and shrugged. Xenophon looked to Roxana and then to Artemas. Neither appeared particularly optimistic at their prospects.

“I’ll tell you what we’re going to do,” he said firmly. “We’ll jump to safety, leave the Empire, and then rebuild the Legion.”

“Leave?” asked Glaucon incredulously. “Do you know how many weeks, maybe even months that kind of journey will take?”

Xenophon nodded slowly.

“Yes, it will be long and dangerous. But, we either do that or we give up right now. We will have to work together. Laconians, Arcadians, even Thessalians.”

They sat in silence and waited as their dromon followed a group of other Laconian craft to the port-landing bay on the Titan Valediction. The landing was fast, much faster than normal. Many more craft were coming in behind them, and the turn around by the crew was efficient and very smooth. Artemas stepped out first, followed by Glaucon and Xenophon who both helped the wounded Tamara down the ramp. Waiting for them were a group of Laconian commanders, including Dukas
Chirisophus
as well as Dukas Xenias of the Arcadians. Xenophon tried to salute, but he needed his hands to help Tamara. A group of medics rushed over with two moving to her, and the others moved inside to check the other casualties. Dukas
Chirisophus
stepped up to Xenophon.

“Dekarchos. We heard about the Strategos. We will mourn him properly soon. I need to know, did he have a plan? What did he want to do next? Some of our people want to go back down, some want to leave for home, and some want to negotiate.”

Dukas Xenias nodded in agreement.

“My troops will follow the lead of the Laconians for this.”

Xenophon looked to Artemas. She did her best to smile, turning away to speak with Roxana.

“Dukas. Before he died, he said just one thing to me. He told me to protect the Legion.”

Chirisophus
looked confused at his answer.

“Protect the Legion? How exactly did he propose this?”

Xenophon was starting to become impatient. As the medics took Tamara away, the others moved to Xenophon’s side. Glaucon seemed especially annoyed at the Laconian’s tone.

“He didn’t have much time to say anything else. He was busy dying.”

Xenophon turned to Artemas and beckoned towards her.

“This is Lady Artemas, niece of Cyrus. She has knowledge of this part of the Empire, detailed local knowledge. With her help, I’m sure I can project a route that will take us home safely.”

The small group of bloodied and tired looking Dukas looked at each other and spoke in hushed tones. More craft continued to land, and the medics were hard pressed to get the wounded out and to the medical bays before another arrived. Finally, they stopped.
Chirisophus
took a step closer to Xenophon and looked down to the bloody weapon given up by his commander.

“Until we convene a full military council, I have been chosen to lead the Legion. As one of Clearchus’ warriors in his last battle, you have a place among my people. From today, you may consider yourself a true friend of Laconia. Now, the Medes fleets are converging on our own forces, and our situation is looking precarious at best. You were there when our Strategos fell, and you heard his words. You carry his weapon, and every commander in the fleet will take heed of your words...for now.”

That last part sounded almost like a threat, but Xenophon chose to ignore it.

“So, Xenophon. What would you recommend?”

Without hesitation, Xenophon answered.

“Choose any destination that will move us away from this place, and jump. When we are safe, we can rebuild the Legion and plan our next step.”

Chirisophus
seemed satisfied with this simple proposal and turned away from Xenophon. He looked one last time, almost longingly at the damaged weapon of Clearchus and then marched back into the innards of the Titan. The other Dukas moved to follow him, with the exception of Xenias, commander of the surviving Arcadians. He placed his hand on the Dekarchos’ shoulder.

“You’ve done well, Xenophon.”

He then looked around to the others. Glaucon was cut and bruised all over, yet still carried his pulse cannon across his shoulder. Roxana’s was covered in grime and blood still dripped from a number of cuts to her scalp. Even Artemas, the beautiful Median woman was bruised and scratched.

“I want you to know, you all have a place with Arcadia. You have friends here, and I suspect our journey home may be even more dangerous than the one that brought us here.”