Black Legion: 04 - Last Stand (26 page)

A triple blast of plasma ripped into the dorsal gun batteries, triggering a series of explosions that tore a section the size of a frigate from the top of the battleship. Alarms sounded throughout the command deck, and those automatons that had been persuaded to stay at their posts began to panic. The impacts of heavy gunfire against the frontal armour of Sraosha proved devastating. For every impact, there was another breach, and more systems were knocked offline. The hits from the rear were far less serious, but even they were knocking down the shields faster than they could be fixed. Up on the highest level, Xenophon looked down at the consternation on the primary command deck and then returned to the black command section, now occupied by Lady Artemas.

“We can’t take much more of this. We’ll lose the ship before Tissaphernes can make a decision.”

If we lose this ship, then we will lose the battle and the entire Legion.

The responsibility to his people felt like a lead weight on his shoulders. It was a burden he would happily hand to somebody else. His plan was completely reliant upon swift action by Tissaphernes. The longer he delayed, the worse it would be for the Sraosha, and also increase the chances the Median commander would discover his true intentions.

Come on! Respond!

Xenophon watched the screen, as he stood right next to Artemas. They were so close in the confined section of the ship that their bodies touched. He felt his heart pounding away in his chest as he waited for his plan to come to fruition. The red indicators marked yet more sections of the ship that had opened up to damage. She looked at him with a worried expression.

“What if they are already in communication? It isn’t hard to bypass jamming at close range via line of sight.”

Xenophon’s lungs spasmed involuntarily and he gasped. The feeling was uncomfortable and nearly made him retch.

“It’s a possibility. We have to trust in their hatred more than their common sense.”

He tried to sound confident, but it was nothing more than a show, and Artemas could easily see that. Even so, she returned to the screen and redirected what energy remained to the shields in the most vulnerable parts of the ship.

“Ariaeus knows the weaknesses of this ship only too well. I would estimate we could take another minute, perhaps two, of this bombardment. Once he gets through to the lower decks, we are done.”

Xenophon looked at the screens and pointed to the less damaged underside of the battleship.

“Can’t we do a partial rotation to limit the exposure of our breaches?”

Artemas didn’t even need to consider the suggestion.

“No, our engines and manoeuvring thrusters are all gone. We’re dead in the water.”

Her words surprised him. The old expression was obviously irrelevant in space, but more importantly, it was a Terran turn of phrase, not something he would ever have expected a Medes noble to use.

“Xenophon?” asked a familiar voice on his communication node.

“Yes?”

“This is Chirisophus. My troops have just secured the shield generator rooms. You’ve got a big problem, though.”

Xenophon was having enough of a problem staying positive from the bombardment. An internal problem would be far more of an issue.

“What is it?”

“The coolant systems and transport couplings have been torn apart. If you keep the shields up for much longer, this entire section will vent into space.

And take half of the ship with it,
he thought.

He looked to Artemas; she shook her head grimly.

“Engines are offline, generators are overheating, and the guns are gone.”

That’s it then.

“There’s nothing I can do down here. I am getting my troops back to our dromons and off this wreck before it blows. I suggest you do the same.”

There was no offer of help or even discussion. Chirisophus had his own loyal unit of Laconians, and he would do whatever he pleased; Xenophon had no doubt of that.

“Understood, I suggest you return to Valediction.”

There was no reply from Chirisophus, and it took a moment before Xenophon recalled that there had been some trouble on board the Titan. If he lived to see another day, he would be fascinated to see how Chirisophus had lost control of a Titan.

He turned his attention back to the massive space battle and more importantly, the array of uncommitted Median vessels. He could see the long line of fresh ships that had just arrived. They had repositioned alongside Ariaeus’ forces, and already their fleet was beginning to look like a single homogeneous force. More impacts hit Sraosha as they sat in their exposed position between the fleets of the Terrans and the Medes. He closed his eyes and reached out to Artemas, turning her to face him.

“What have I done?”

With the damage sustained, there were only two things left for them to do. Either stay on the ship as she burned, or head to the lifeboats and abandon her before it was too late. He knew the latter was the only real choice, but trying to escape while under bombardment was almost as suicidal as staying and taking your chances on a wrecked vessel.

As he thought over his poor selection of options, he noticed Artemas had said nothing. She had no plan or words of encouragement but simply pulled him to her and then stopped. He felt her breathing increase, and he immediately thought she must have been shot or injured in some way.

Have they boarded us?

He looked past her and saw the first exchange of gunfire between the ships of Tissaphernes and Ariaeus. It almost took his breath away to see the combined fleet of almost two hundreds ships tearing each other apart with heavy gunfire.

“Tissaphernes has made his move,” she said gleefully and then pulled him to her lips.

Carian Battleship ‘Boubak’, Planet Larissa, Core Worlds

Darbabad Forouzandeh watched the final stage of the space battle unfold with nothing less than disappointment showing on her face. She had tried to make contact with Tissaphernes since her arrival, but he was blocking her transmissions as well as the rest of her division. Luckily, the rest of her group of warships remained in contact with her flagship. Twenty-two ships were now burning after a fight that had lasted little more than fifteen minutes. The bulk of casualties were those commanded by the unfortunate Ariaeus, and the same number again heavily damaged. She was pleased to see it was her own group of heavy battleships that had done the lion's share of the work. She watched as a triple volley of heavy cutters ripped through the last remaining shield of a cruiser and then burned right through its hull.

Beautiful.

“Bring us around for one more pass. And somebody get me through to Tissaphernes. I don’t care what it takes!”

Her officers did their best to attempt some degree of coordination with the rest of their ships. At short ranges they had made contact with focused laser transmitters, but Tissaphernes was either unwilling or unable to reply to the same.

That fool is obsessed with betrayal and scheming. It's more a judgement of his character than of anybody else. The first person usually to cry treason is usually the first one to think of it themself.

It was a throwaway thought, but as the fleet continued its bloody battle without any meaningful conversation between the groups of ships, she began to despair for her own kind. This wasn't the first space battle she'd been involved in where the commanders had completely ignored the reports from their own ships; she just hoped it didn't end the way these battles usually did. The only other option was that his own communications officers hadn't noticed their attempts to use the backup communications system, and that worried her even more.

“Darbabad, something is wrong!"

The officer brought down several more pages of data as well as an updated battle schematic of the action around Larissa. Most of the space was filled with the two large fleets of Median ships.

"It's Ariaeus’ ships. It seems they are closing their gun ports and presenting their flanks to us and the rest of Lord Tissaphernes’ fleet.”

Darbabad Forouzandeh angled her head as she considered the news. The imagery of the nearest capital ships confirmed they were indeed closing their gunports, something that would make their use now impossible in the battle.

"Their shields?" she asked.

"Uh...one moment...yes, they are dropping. Shields are down Darbabad!"

Darbabad Forouzandeh hit the button on the computer console.

"Cease fire!"

It was a short order and only sent to those immediate ships that were under her command. Even so, the effect was almost instantaneous, and she was unable to hide the smile of pride as her division of ships operated like a well-oiled machine.

If the rest of our Navy worked like this, the Terrans would have been our slaves a millennia ago!

She turned her attention back to the enemy ships, specifically the battleships of Ariaeus. Closing gun ports and leaving flanks exposed was only likely to have happened for one of two reasons. Either Ariaeus was attempting to escape, or it was a sign of surrender.

“What about the Terrans?”

Her tactical officer examined what little information was available to them before answering.

“Darbabad, they are withdrawing behind the planet and are being pursued by a small number of our Lelegian ships.”

Darbabad Forouzandeh turned quickly and looked at the imagery.

No, that doesn't make sense.

The information told her one thing but her instinct said otherwise, and she wasn’t convinced. With a simple hand movement, the display enlarged the feed showing the ships that were busily pursuing the Terrans. Small amounts of gunfire flashed back and forth, but the shielding on the ships easily deflected the projectiles with light flashes of blue. Something wasn’t right, and it took her a moment until she spotted it. On each side of the ship moved small shapes. It was those she concentrated on.

“What in the name of Emperor are those?”

The tactical officer ran a series of scans and then brought up an image that showed three of them in great detail. They were small craft almost three times the size of a fighter.

“Dromons!” she hissed before twisting about to speak with her communications officer.

They were craft specific to the Terrans and some of the border worlds, and definitely not in use with Tissaphernes fleet. It could mean only one of two things; either they were from the fleet of Phalinus, or much more likely they were craft of the Legion.

“Look,” said the tactical officer.

He had selected just one of the dromons and enlarged the imagery so that it filled the display. The craft bore a number of markings, but it was one simple upturned ‘v
’
that drew his attention.

“Laconians!” he said excitedly.

“Get me through to Tissaphernes within the next minute, or we will lose this fight. I don’t care what you have to do. Open fire on him if you must.”

She then moved her eyes to her Sarvan.

“Set course for the Lelegian ships. They have been captured, and this is a trap!”

 
The second-in-command of the ship gave his salute and moved to the small cadre of Carian officers. The Boubak broke from the main fleet in seconds and led a division of a dozen Elamite battleships on a rapid interception course with the Lelegian ships.

* * *

Median Battleship ‘Vairya’, Planet Larissa, Core Worlds

Tissaphernes watched the battle with barely concealed rage showing on his face. He had minimal control over his ships due to the jamming and had resorted to one-way traffic, via direct narrow band laser communication. It was less reliable but luckily almost impossible to jam. Another of Ariaeus’ cruisers vanished in a bright explosion, and like those before it, it simply wasn’t enough to sate his appetite.

I will have his head for this!

“My Lord, we have an urgent flash communication from seven ships, including Ariaeus and Darbabad Forouzandeh,” said the communications officer.

The ship’s Sarvan approached with a grim look on his face.

“I have told you already; I am not interested in what anybody has to say. Block their signal and repeat my last orders.”

The communications officer nodded without saying a word. Vairya was perhaps the single most efficient ship in the fleet right now, but there was no possibility of personal initiative, due to the regime of terror and control instituted by Tissaphernes himself over so many years. While the junior officer continued as instructed, the ship’s Sarvan reached the lower level step beneath the obsidian command structure, a look of terror barely concealed behind his eyes.

“What?” snapped the Satrap.

“The Boubak, she has locked onto us and has opened her dorsal gunports.”

Tissaphernes looked at the imagery inside his obsidian cocoon and quickly spotted the massive battleship. He immediately recognised the dated design and markings going back many centuries. Warning alerts triggered on the computer system, as the threat was assessed and then flagged as hostile. The Sarvan was nervous but he continued.

“Boubak is the next most powerful ship in our fleet, and her commander, Darbabad Forouzandeh is the most experienced Darbabad in the Empire.”

Tissaphernes knew all of this only too well, though he doubted Darbabad Forouzandeh would ever even consider turning her guns on him. After all, her family and reputation were firmly associated with his.

“Your orders?” said the Sarvan.

If he had been just a little closer Tissaphernes would have stepped out of the space, and struck him to the ground. Luckily for both of them, the distance was too great but that didn’t stop him deciding what cruel fate would befall this particular officer. The Darbabad moved up alongside him, bowed, and then gave an order to the Sarvan who moved quickly away.

“I see you have ingrained some common sense into the Sarvan. Good, another word and he would have been commanding a trash detail, or perhaps visiting the coldness of the void instead of commanding my starship.”

The Darbabad bowed again politely.

“My Lord, I have given the orders to our divisions, and we are making good progress against the rebels. They will not last much longer with the arrival of our battleships. Boubak’s wing has already turned Ariaeus’ flank.”

Tissaphernes’ lip quivered at this news.

“Good work, Darbabad. I see you were a wise choice to command this part of the fleet.”

Even as he spoke, a dozen flashes along the dorsal section of the other battleship indicated a volley of fire. For a moment he didn’t notice them. His brain recorded the event but filed it away in his subconscious. Something deep down must have identified them though because he quickly snapped about to see the continuous flicker of gunfire.

Treachery!

It took seconds for them to reach Vairya, but not before he had given the signal to return fire. The impact of the volley was massively underwhelming, and he barely felt the impact.

Is that all Boubak has to offer in battle?

He laughed to himself, wondering why he had been worried. He might even have ignored the tiny indicator in the bottom right of the battle near the Terran ship. It was nothing momentous, but it was worrying.

A jump indicator, the Terrans, they are escaping!

Tissaphernes was many things, but never stupid. All of the data quickly coalesced in his mind, the Terran ships, the Boubak, the fleet dispositions, and the rest. All that vexed him was the betrayal of Ariaeus. He signalled to the communications officer, completely bypassing the senior officers of the ship.

“Is Darbabad Forouzandeh still trying to communicate with us?”

The Sarvan of the ship nodded.

“Yes, my Lord, as is Ariaeus.”

Tissaphernes felt his heart burn in his chest at the mention of the treasonous dog Ariaeus. If he’d been allowed, he would have had the noble executed well before the Battle of Cunaxa.

“Accept their data requests. I will speak with both of them.”

The officer pressed a handful of buttons, and the images of the two nobles appeared on the left and right of him inside his obsidian cocoon.

“Lord Tissaphernes, the Terrans have tricked you,” said Ariaeus bitterly.

Before he could respond, Darbabad Forouzandeh spoke.

“It is true. The Terrans have captured Lelegian ships as well as the Sraosha.”

Tissaphernes trusted nobody, but the information matched the facts around him. He said nothing and looked back at the disposition of the fleet. The Terrans were definitely withdrawing and were followed closely by a small number of Lelegian ships.

“Why were you firing upon Sraosha?”

Ariaeus shook his head and sighed.

“Sraosha was captured ten minutes before you arrived. The Terrans moved other captured ships around her and then turned on my forces. I fought back just as you arrived.”

He inhaled, doing his best to stay calm.

“Before you attacked my fleet.”

Tissaphernes might have apologised if he felt any responsibility for what had happened. Instead, he laughed at Ariaeus. He looked out through the gap between the black vertical plates to where his Darbabad waited.

“Give the order to stand down. This fight is over. Set an intercept course for the Terrans before they can escape.”

He then looked at the two Median nobles.

“So, it would appear the Terrans have been more imaginative than we might have ever expected. Perhaps if you had thrown your fleet in at the start, we might have won this fight?” he said to Ariaeus.

His rival said nothing, however, as he realised he had actually survived what had been a bitter betrayal by Tissaphernes. He could see the look on the Satrap’s face, and at that moment found he had no idea who his real enemy was, the Terrans or Tissaphernes.