“Incoming!” cried one of the stratiotes from further up the mountain.
The gunfire arrived at almost the same time as the man’s warning. It started as a few dozen pulse rifle shots, but then continued to include rocket fire. Tamara looked out from her cover and blazed away with her carbine. She must have loosed off an entire clip before Glaucon reached her.
“Save your ammo. You can’t do anything from down here.”
The eighty stratiotes moved on in two long snaking columns, each just a man wide to reduce the effect of the incoming fire. By the time they reached the halfway point, a dozen had been killed or wounded. Anybody that couldn’t make it any further was left behind. They could come back for them if, and when, they succeeded, the Komes had explained. Down below, the ten in the rearguard had been involved in a long shooting match with the following Mulacs. They were doing good work, but the number of Mulacs had increased by a factor of five. Soon they would crash through the rearguard and on their way to hitting them from behind.
The noise of massed heavy weapons drew Xenophon and Glaucon’s attention. It was much closer than the weapon mounts and appeared to be from a section of the mountain just thirty metres in front, not far from where Pasion was. Two stratiotes stumbled back and tumbled down the mountainside, and the rest of the unit ducked down to avoid any more gunfire.
“Report?” whispered Xenophon on his radio. The frequency was filled with continuous chatter from the dozen dekarchos leading the troops. None listened to him, for a mere stratiotes was low priority amongst the chain of command. One, an older woman that he recognised, was waving for them to fall back. A few followed her commands, but she was grabbed and pushed back by a large black dekarchos.
“We can’t go back!” he roared before jumping around the corner. Another burst of heavy weapons fire struck him in the chest. He took the full brunt of the attack and joined the other fallen. The remaining troops scattered. Their ascent now stalled by the hidden enemy.
“Xenophon, can we try that trick of yours again?” asked Roxana.
He shook his head.
“No, the overcharged weapon only works with the plasma cannons, unless you’ve got one spare?”
Nobody come forward with the required item.
“It doesn’t matter, anyway. The blast would probably blow up from the mountainside in the time we’d have.”
Jack clambered down the rocks and narrowly avoided a pulse round that must have been fired up from the pursuing Mulacs. Xenophon looked down to see them approaching at a distance, but there was no sign of their rearguard.
“Dammit, they’re through already. Anybody have any plasma grenades left?”
One of the dekarchos nearer to the front held up single grenade.
“Glaucon, with me,” he said, and then worked his way up the path to where the officer waited. He held out the grenade to Xenophon who handed it back.
“No, I need you roll it around the corner on my mark.”
“Why? I can’t hit them from here.”
“Just do it when I say, okay?”
The man nodded but looked completely unconvinced at his suggestion. More gunfire erupted along the rear of their group, and Roxana spread out the stratiotes into a skirmish line to hold them back. The concentrated fire from two-dozen of the Terran soldiers was withering and forced the Mulacs into cover. Xenophon leaned in towards Glaucon and the Dekarchos.
“Once the grenade goes off, we rush the place, got it?”
They both nodded.
“Do it!”
The man placed his hand on the rock and hurled the grenade towards where the gunfire had come from. There was short delay, followed by a flash of blue light and a loud vibration.
“Now!” cried Xenophon.
He jumped around the corner and charged into the dust, unable to see a thing. Behind him followed Glaucon, the Dekarchos and half a dozen more stratiotes who assumed the area was now clear. Xenophon reached within two metres of the fortified entrance before he was able to see inside. It was a thick stone archway. A tripod mounted heavy pulse cannon was fitted in the centre, around which four men operated it. Xenophon shouted out and jumped at them, firing from both of his Asgeirr-Carbines. Two of the men were cut down, but the other two were able to open fire. Glaucon and Xenophon were past the gun and inside, but two of the men following took the gun blast and vanished in the dust.
Unable to turn the gun far enough, the two Mulac gunners drew fighting blades and attacked Xenophon and Glaucon. The Dekarchos jumped inside and blasted away at the weapon emplacement with his carbine and moved into the darkness.
“Watch out!” shouted Glaucon, as he spotted the first Mulac driving a blade towards Xenophon. He parried it to the left and then stabbed his right hand with its extended blade into the alien’s chest. The monofilament point of the precision blade easily burst through the armour and embedded itself almost its full length inside. The two stumbled to the ground, leaving just one. Glaucon ducked past the creature’s attack and locked its arm, spinning it around. It was a classic move he and Xenophon had practiced in their training back home. He twisted the arm behind its back and then pushed down hard, neatly snapping the bone. It cried out, but its sound was cut short by the wounded shape of Pasion appearing. He jumped inside, his shimmering body shield on and his carbine in one hand. Blood dripped from two wounds to his shoulder.
“Animals!” he screamed and blazed away, and dozens of the rounds cut into the Mulac.
It was over in seconds, and the enemy strongpoint was theirs. From inside, it was clear that the doorway was one of many minor entrances that led into the heart of the mountain. A tunnel ran inside and into a large hexagonal room about fifty metres wide. It was difficult to see what else was there due to the blasts of gunfire. The Terran warriors, buoyed up by their success, rushed in and ran directly into the path of a dozen Mulac warriors. Gunfire moved back and forth as the weight of numbers prevailed.
Komes Pasion signalled for them to stay close to the walls. He tried to move forward, but whatever wounds he had sustained must have caught up with him. He slumped down, his breathing heavy and his face pale. Two of his bodyguards knelt beside him while a third connected a medical diagnostic device to the port on his forearm. The wounded Komes looked up to see Xenophon and Roxana nearby.
“Dekarchos!” he called out.
They looked at each other and then at those around them. The dekarchos were split among the rest of the group and none within earshot.
“Yes, you two. Come closer!” he snapped.
It wasn’t clear if he was dazed, confused or just being plain irritable. Even so, they both moved to the man. The gunfire had dropped to a trickle as the Terrans secured the level. The Komes was about to speak, but one of the senior Dekarchos, a man called Calum, approached and knelt down beside him.
“Komes. The lower level is secure. There is a large access tunnel leading up to the higher levels. There is only one way up.”
“We need to get up there, and fast,” added Xenophon.
A low rumble from further down the mountain signalled the approaching Mulacs. As if to emphasis the urgency of their situation, a volley of rockets exploded outside the archway into the lower level.
“I’ll hold them off down here. You go!” said Roxana.
The Dekarchos looked at her and then to his Komes who simply nodded at him.
“Assault the higher levels, destroy the weapon and get Clearchus down here, fast!”
His eyes fluttered and he passed out of consciousness. Roxana bent down to check his breathing. She waited a moment and sighed.
“He’s breathing.”
The Dekarchos signalled to the guards to help carry the wounded commander into the relative safety of the lower levels. Roxana and Xenophon followed them and into the large, hexagonal room that marked this level of the mountain stronghold. In the middle of the room was a pit that filled nearly half the space. Xenophon leaned over its precarious edge and looked down. It was pure black. Taking a small rock from the ground, he dropped it, only for it to take an age before a gentle clunk signalled its landing.
“Let’s not fall down there,” suggested Roxana.
The guards dragged the Dukas to the far side of the room and at the base of the tunnel. It was a more recent addition and in a much better state of repair to the entrance. At a point of fifty to sixty metres up the tunnel, it split into a series of corridors and rooms.
“We’ll need time to find the weapon or its power source,” said the Dekarchos. He glanced at Xenophon and Roxana.
“You’re the stratiotes that blew the wall, right?” he asked.
Xenophon nodded.
“Good, you’re with me. Roxana, you know your way around command, don’t you?”
“I was an officer with the Alliance.”
“Yeah, I heard that. Rumour has it you were at the last battle around Attica.”
“We both were,” added Xenophon.
“I need experience, and most of these are newly recruited commanders. I’m giving you a field promotion, Roxana Devereux. From now, you’re a junior Dekarchos in the unit.”
He stood up and waved over to the other leaders. Most of the stratiotes took cover and watched for any signs of the approaching Mulacs. Several of the commanders had already been killed on the ascent, leaving just a handful to move back. Once gathered around the wounded Pasion, he began.
“Stratiotes Devereux has been promoted to junior Dekarchos. She is the most experienced of you all. I want her plus half of the unit to stay behind and keep the Mulacs busy. Start in this room.”
He extended both arms and looked about the large hexagonal room.
“Use crates, junk, even bodies, and fortify the area. You need to buy us the time to get to the higher levels, and take out the weapons. Understood?”
They nodded in silent agreement and jumped into action. The room itself contained a number of crates and abandoned or broken down machines and equipment. With over thirty stratiotes on the one level, they made quick progress. Tamara and Jack threw themselves into work and helped barricade the doorway, and at the same time doing their best to avoid the sporadic gunfire from the Mulacs outside. Jack chanced a quick looked out of the door and barely made it back inside, as a dozen shots smashed around the arched doorway.
“They’re massing for an assault, so whatever you’re going to do, do it fast!” he shouted.
Dekarchos Calum nodded and moved to the tunnel, closely followed by Xenophon, Glaucon and almost thirty more stratiotes. Komes Pasion and his guards stayed where they were, helping to protect the commander and their position. Xenophon moved into the tunnel to feel a hand grab him. He spun around to find Roxana pulling him forward. He was taken so by surprise that he almost struck her with his Asgeirr-Carbine. She planted her lips firmly against his and pulled him against her body. It was a brief moment, and Xenophon was speechless. She stepped back and moved to her group, looking over her shoulder.
“Don’t do anything stupid. I’d like to see you again, and in one piece.”
Xenophon looked back to the tunnel to see his old friend Glaucon smiling, almost sniggering at him.
“About time, old son!” he laughed.
* * *
Multiple streams of pulse cannon fire blasted into the sky around the group of dromons. A single round was easily capable of tearing a metre-wide gash in any of them. The longer they stayed in the air, the greater the chance they would be struck. The lead craft was the command dromon crewed by Clearchus, and it already showed several sections of minor damage on its fuselage.
“How close are we to the landing zone?” asked Clearchus to the kentarchos of the dromon.
The officer checked his display. He pressed several buttons and checked the vessel’s navigation readouts. A green tunnel indicated their path through the energy field and down to their landing zone. With a final check, he twisted his head to look over to his commander.
“Seventeen minutes, Strategos. We hit the shield in just under a minute, and then we cut the electronics and glide on in. We can use our mechanical thrusters to provide extra thrust. It’s not enough for powered flight, but it does mean we can come in lower and faster.”
The pilot looked concerned, and that worried Clearchus. He wasn’t a man that left anything to chance, and the idea of crashing and burning was one he was keen to avoid.
“Can you do it?”