Black Legion: 04 - Last Stand (15 page)

“Yes!” answered one of them men excitedly.

Xenophon looked to Artemas.

“I need the widest route to the deck. We need numbers there and fast.”

Artemas considered his words but only for a moment.

“There are dozens of levels, but the main passageways all run front to back. We can take multiple routes to the top deck and then rush the length of the ship.”

Tamara jumped up at a hatch and it swung open. A ladder slid down and stopped just centimetres from the ground.

“Like this?”

Artemas smiled at her.

“Yes, there will be access ladders on every floor in case the lifts and transport platforms are damaged. Either we take those or the ramps to the next level.”

Tamara climbed up and vanished above them. Several gunshots rang out, and Xenophon felt his pulse quicken as a body tumbled down from the hatch. The face of the young woman appeared upside down and looked at them with a wide grin.

“There’s a circular room up here with ramps on both sides.”

“Excellent,” answered Artemas, “That means we’re right next to the aft access bay. We can take the ramps up from there.”

“Do it,” said Xenophon and then moved to the ladder.

Five more armed automatons appeared from a dozen metres ahead, but when they spotted the large group of heavily armed Terrans, they quickly turned tail and ran. A few of the Terrans shot at them but none were hurt.

“Let them run,” Glaucon muttered, “They will spread fear deep inside her. It will make our job easier.”

* * *

Tissaphernes watched the ships from inside the dark interior of his secluded section of the command deck. The raised screens hid him from view, yet he could still make out the shapes of the crew all around him. He watched his fleet as it continued on its faster-than-light journey to meet with the rest of the ships he had assembled to execute the coup de grâce on the Terrans. It was a small fleet, no more than twenty ships though; a dozen of those were Elamite battleships, the feared heavy warship of the Empire and more than enough to conduct the final attack on the fleet.

And how is my little battle proceeding?

With nothing more than a movement of his eye, the imagery shifted and showed the latest reports coming in from his commanders at Larissa. He looked at the shapes of the Terran Titans and almost giggled at what he could see. The Terran ships had been caught while they plundered the planet, just as he had predicted.

He recalled the argument that had taken place before the Emperor himself as he, Ariaeus, and Phalinus had debated the merits of their different strategies. Phalinus didn’t seem to care what the plan was, providing he was paid while Ariaeus thought it best to provide food and supplies to the Terrans to get them to leave.

Tissaphernes had a different idea altogether, however. He had great plans and to do so he would need resources and support from the Emperor. This victory could guarantee him a free hand to smash the remaining Ionian Territories and finally do what no Medes had ever done before, to wipe out the Terrans once and for all.

So, pulling away the garrison did the trick.

The three Titans were separated, and he could see the Terran ships had been swamped by the greater number of his own ships. The smaller fleet of Phalinus had lost a few ships and was giving ground, but even they were dragging the entire thing out.

This is a wondrous work of art.

The images of the fighting ships reminded him of the enjoyment he experienced when watching the caged animals fighting in the pits back on his own worlds. The uncertainty and the savagery fed something inside him, something raw and animalistic. It made him want to rush directly into the battle, yet he knew more than most that you never showed your hand to the Terrans. He could be patient.

When they have just a few ships remaining, I will jump in to finish them.

He looked back at the battle and noticed the number of smaller Terran ships moving in around the larger battleships. The only fear he’d had about the operation was that the Terrans would unite and form up to present a devastating wall of fire, as they had done on multiple occasions at Cunaxa. Now they were spread out and weak. It was the perfect ending for them.

When it is all over, I will commission a painting of this exact moment; the one where I will be personally responsible for the annihilation of three more Titans and ten thousand savages!

“My Lord,” said the Darbabad.

Tissaphernes deactivated his viewing unit and waited as it lowered to reveal the nervous face of his Admiral. It was only then that he realised the ship had stopped moving.

“Yes?”

“We have reached the assembly point, My Lord.”

“And?”

The automaton swallowed quickly before speaking.

“Our scouts caught a scout cruiser attempting to leave the system. We suspect it is the same ship that fought its way from our fleet six hours ago. I have despatched additional ships to destroy them, and they have been jammed continually since being identified.”

Tissaphernes didn’t move, to all intents and purposes he might have been a golden statue sitting silently at the heart of the great battleship. Only when he lifted his hand to wipe his lip was it clear he was even alive.

“What was this Terran ship doing? Do they know how many ships we have in reserve?”

“I...uh, we suspect it was a scout watching the rear of the Black Legion.”

A scout? They must have failed in their mission. If the Terrans knew we were coming, why were they not ready?

A glimmer of doubt slipped into his mind, and he began to imagine the disasters that he knew of when his people fought the Terrans. The days of delay while fighting the Laconians at the Hot Gates, just so the Terrans could mobilize their ground and space forces for the final battle. Even their trick at Plataea, in pretending they were giving up the field of battle. The more he gave consideration to the scout, he realised he wanted to know more.

“The fleet is engaged and my reserve is ready?”

The Darbabad nodded quickly.

“Yes, My Lord.”

The Darbabad bent down and tapped a panel on the ground. It flicked three colours, and then a slightly distorted image of the battle at Larissa appeared. It wasn’t a video feed but rather a stylised representation of the battle, with colour blocks representing the divisions of the ships from the three factions.

“As arranged, the primary fleet of Phalinus is heavily engaged with the Laconian division. Your diversionary forces from Leleges, under the command of Darbabad Qahreman, have enveloped their remaining forces and are now heavily engaged also.”

Tissaphernes was happy to hear this. Darbabad Qahreman was one of his more experienced commanders and hailed from one of the ruling families in the Caira Satrapy. Technically, he was his nephew, although the marriage had fallen apart and severed the ties to his own noble house years earlier. He had chosen him to lead this part of the battle, due to his experience of leading the troublesome Leleges. The Leleges region was one of the ancient territories managed by his Satrapy of Caira. Though his two regions covered a substantial amount of space between the rest of the Empire and the Terran worlds, he still managed many different civilisations. The Leleges were conquered long ago, but their worlds were a rich source of slaves for his war machine, and its factories churned out cheap cruisers for the fleet. They were no match for professional soldiers and their ships some of the worst in the Empire, yet they served a purpose.

“Good.”

He looked at the list to the left of the battle display of his reserve fleet waiting with him in deep space. Unlike the vessels engaged, these were all Lydian ships, each commanded by Median nobility that were completely loyal to him. Their ships were the most expensive and lavish in his fleet.

“Who is winning?”

The Darbabad wiped his brow, nervous at giving the wrong analysis to his master.

“My Lord, the Terrans have suffered only a few losses so far. They have moved their ships close to the Lelegian forces, and it has reduced their weapons effectiveness. They are unable to engage them easily without risking harm to their own ships.”

Tissaphernes bit his lip as he considered his situation.

They should be breaking already, what’s going wrong?

“This is taking too long. I want the Terrans destroyed once and for all. Is every ship fighting?”

The Darbabad bowed his head for what felt like the hundredth time.

“The Terran jammers have denied us direct contact with Darbabad Qahreman, but we are still receiving regular updates from Phalinus.”

“Pah!” muttered Tissaphernes, “Let me guess, they are under pressure and urgently need help?”

Again the Darbabad bowed.

“They have lost a third of their forces, and the Laconians are pressing ahead hard.”

Tissaphernes smiled.

“Good.”

The arrogance of the Laconians will be the Terrans’ downfall. While they waste time fighting Phalinus, I will move in between their forces and smash the remainder of their fleet.

He looked to his automaton commander and sighed. The Darbabad looked desperately uncomfortable, but at least he could sense no attempt at hostility or arrogance from him.

It will come, eventually.

Tissaphernes had already identified the next likely candidate to take his place. As he looked to the crew on his ship, he noticed there was nobody there he could ever trust. Only the Median nobility with direct blood ties to his family could be relied upon, and they were either back home or commanding other parts of his forces during this campaign. The Darbabad waited patiently, unwilling to ask to leave.

Still, there might be something they can tell us.

“Do they have information about the performance of our own ships in the battle? I need to know what is happening before I commit my reserve.”

The Darbabad pointed to the map.

“My Lord, Phalinus says the Terrans have sent a large part of their fleet directly against Darbabad Qahreman, and his flagship is being boarded.”

Tissaphernes leaned back as he listened.

“Boarded? He knows to avoid engaging the Terrans at close range.”

It wasn’t so much a question, more a statement. Even so, he didn’t like entertaining even the smallest possibility that the Terrans might be doing something unexpected. He looked back to the imagery to reassure himself that their fleet was indeed separated and surrounded.

I need confirmation before I risk my personal ships. I need to interrogate their scouts.

He looked to Darbabad and noticed the shudder in the automaton’s body.

“This scout cruiser of yours, how far away is it?”

“Two jumps away, my Lord. I can have another ship there in less than an hour.”

Tissaphernes expression turned to anger.

“I know how long it takes to make two fifteen parsec jumps, you fool. Set the coordinates and activate the engines. I want to see this ship.”

The Darbabad’s face contorted; fear wracking his body. Tissaphernes lifted himself from what looked more like a throne than a seat and moved towards the terrified automaton. His race had been bred to be less impressive in both height and overall bulk, and due to the raised plinth the Median Satrap towered over him. Even as he moved, the automaton signalled to his junior officers to carry out his orders. Once done, he looked up to his Satrap. Tissaphernes smiled that short, cruel smile that put fear into the face of those around him.

“The fleet will remain here, of course. The battle around Larissa will take many hours, perhaps even days to be conducted.”

And I will not put myself at risk, unless I know my plans are unknown to the enemy.

“I will deal with this scout personally.”

The Darbabad didn’t even consider arguing with his commander and dutifully nodded in agreement. Only a fool would question the Satrap, especially when in the middle of a battle. The stories he’d heard about the dozens before him ensured he thought as little about planning and tactics as possible. Victory or defeat in space meant nothing to the Darbabad, only that he obeyed his orders.