Black Legion: 02 - Assault on Khorram (25 page)

“Where do you think they’ll go?” asked Roxana with a genuine feeling of concern in her voice.

“Who cares? They turned on us without even thinking about it. I hope Xenias left a present for them on board,” said Tamara.

Xenophon was surprised at her statement. Until the action on the command deck, he had always considered her to be somewhat lost at sea, more an orphan than a fighter. He was starting to see a vicious streak, and it was a change he didn’t like. He looked back to the long, thin window and watched the dromon as it used its manoeuvring thrusters to keep away from the ship. Movement caught his eye to the right, and he turned to see two of the defence turrets activate.

“What the hell is going on?” he muttered.

They were the smallest weapons carried externally on the ship, but they were still over four metres tall. They were point-defence turrets, part of the ship’s complex defence screen. Dozens of similar turrets were fitted all around the vessel and could provide a full three-hundred and sixty degree arc of fire if the ship was attacked. Unlike heavier weapons, these were built specifically to fire rapidly and to track fast moving objects, especially missiles, rockets and accelerated projectiles.

“Yeah, looks like the Dukas has bigger balls than you thought!” laughed Tamara, much to the discomfort of both Xenophon and Roxana.

Though the turret tracked the dromon, it did not fire. It took less than a minute for the ship to shrink in size until it could no longer be seen. As if to mark the small transports departure, the voice of Kybernetes Ezekiel Manus echoed through the narrow corridor.

“The traitors have started their long exile, and it is now time for us to continue on our journey. We are operating in complete lockdown, and communication blackout is still in effect. We will be jumping in four minutes and expect to rendezvous with the Legion in four more jumps, Kybernetes out.”

Those in the corridor started to disperse, and Glaucon seemed to voice the opinions of the rest in one simple line.

“I don’t know about the rest of you, but right now I could do with a drink, a serious drink.”

Xenophon nodded heartily at the suggestion, as did Roxana who was still looking for signs of the now vanished dromon. The only glum looking person there was the moody Tamara. Roxana spotted her and moved a little closer. There was definitely something odd in her expression, as if someone had just committed a great evil.

“Come on, to the rec room,” said Glaucon, and then he was gone.

It was a short walk, and in less than five minutes they were inside the hastily modified storage room. Over two dozen people were already in there listening to music, talking and generally trying to forget everything that had happened to them in the last few days. Normally, this room would be stacked with charge cartridges for the secondary weapon batteries, but with no weapons to resupply there were a number of similar sections now devoid of ammunition. They were among the few places not reallocated for use by the new refugees on the ship. Tamara jumped ahead and grabbed a table for the group just as two spatharii were about to sit down. One looked as if he would erupt in anger, but she faced him down until he walked away. Xenophon slid alongside her, and the others pulled over barrels and boxes to join him.

“Tamara, you need to watch that temper of yours. You aren’t making friends here.”

Roxana sat opposite the two of them while Glaucon walked over to a group near a pile of crates. It wasn’t the most sophisticated of locations, but it was large and big enough to house a full dromon inside and away from the bustle of managing the ship. It didn’t take Glaucon long to return with four large beakers of the same type used in the canteen. He dropped them down on the table and slid alongside Roxana.

“Scoot along then,” he said with a smile. She sighed and moved the short distance to give him the space.

“What is this stuff?” asked Xenophon, staring inside the beaker suspiciously.

Glaucon threw back a full mouthful of the liquid and swallowed it before slamming the beaker back down. He coughed almost immediately and managed to splatter Tamara with some of it across her shoulder.

“What the...” she shouted, but Xenophon held her back and stopped her from leaping across the table.

Roxana, ever the most sensible of the group, leaned over the table towards her.

“I don’t understand it. What’s got into you? Since we retook the ship, you’ve been getting more and more violent and bitter. Has something happened?” she asked.

Tamara sat in silence and said nothing.

“Okay, well in the meantime you need to sort this temper of yours out. You might be young, and you obviously have some things in your past you aren’t happy with, but we have new problems, right now. Okay?”

Tamara gave her the barest of nods and looked down at the table. Roxana shook her head in annoyance, turning her gaze back to Xenophon.

“So, I see you’ve been busy, then?”

Glaucon coughed and join in. “Yeah, we get banged up, and the next thing we know you’ve got a hot Median agent in tow. What’s that all about?”

“Nice,” he replied sarcastically. “It isn’t like that, as well you know. She was actually following you and Tamara when we were trying to find out what Andronicus was up to. It looks like she’s an Imperial agent but working for Cyrus and his high command. They have one like her on each of the major ships in the Legion.”

Roxana scratched her head slightly.

“Wait a minute. I know you, Xenophon. The minute a girl shows you any attention, you fall head over heels for them. Why do you believe a single word she has said to you so far? Don’t you think Clearchus himself would have to know about this?”

“True,” added Glaucon, “no way would he stand for Medes units hiding aboard our Titans, no way.”

Roxana took a sip of the liquid and pulled a face at the sickly feeling it evoked.

“It doesn’t make sense, and it also doesn’t seem very likely to me. Where are they all hiding?”

Xenophon listened to their complaints but of all of them, Roxana was the one he valued the most in this particular affair. She was certainly the most experienced with a significant portion of her adult life spent in the military. Xenophon trusted her judgement when it came to people or military affairs, above all others.

“One thing you need to always remember is that we have never been the friends of the Medes. Clearchus might be in charge of all Terrans, but he isn’t in charge of the campaign itself. Cyrus pulls the strings, and more importantly, he controls the purse. Do you think he is happy to have thousands of Terrans swarming through his ancient lands? You’ve seen some of our people, and they are just as likely to turn on us as them.”

The others had nothing to say immediately and continued with their drinks. It looked like it would stay that way until Tamara shocked them all with her next outburst.

“What does a Medes look like, then? I mean, when she takes all that tight fitting armour off?”

Xenophon just looked at her but said nothing, partially out of shock, but mainly because he simply had no idea what to say. Glaucon nearly choked on his drink, but this time managed not to splutter it all over the others.

“Naked you say?” he laughed, managing as always to completely miss the tone of the conversation. Roxana looked a little embarrassed at the direction of the discussion and like Xenophon, said nothing.

“Well?” asked Tamara, refusing to back down.

“That really isn’t a very civil thing to ask now, is it?” replied Xenophon.

He was obviously annoyed but also perhaps a little embarrassed. Roxana looked at him, trying to gauge exactly what was going on with him and the Medes agent, but he was giving nothing away.

“She helped free the lot of you, and maybe if we’d got to her sooner, we might have stopped the mutiny to start with,” he continued, and with that the conversation ended.

“What about Andronicus’ men? What do you think they will do?” asked Glaucon, doing his best to steer the conversation away from his friend and whatever potential liaisons he might have had.

Xenophon seemed to relax a little at the change of topic and took a short sip from the beaker. Another group of half a dozen spatharii entered the room. As they came closer, Xenophon recognised Dekarchos Julius of the elite 6
^th
Spatharios. His assistance during the evacuation of the crippled Olympia had made him a friend of Xenophon and the others. They owed him a great debt, and it wouldn’t be forgotten. He moved to the table but didn’t sit down.

“Will you and your men join us?” asked Roxana in a very polite manner.

“Thank you, but no, I’m still on duty. I just thought you would like to know that the Dukas has finished debriefing the Medes Artemas, and he requests you meet him in his room prior to her being released into the general population in one hour.”

“Released? Isn’t that a bit risky?” asked Glaucon.

Roxana looked over to Xenophon, curious to see what he would say.

“Yes, you’re right. I can’t see this crew being too keen knowing they have a Medes agent on board the ship.”

Julius was already turning back to the door before he replied.

“Then I suggest you keep it to yourself. It’s not like she looks that much different to any other women I know.”

“She doesn’t look like any of the women I know,” muttered Glaucon in a suggestive manner that resulted in him receiving a solid punch in the chest from Roxana. He feigned pain at her strike and looked back to Julius.

“Anyway, I have to go. There are rumours of booby-traps in the jump drive control room, and I think I speak for all of us when I say I don’t want to stay in this sector for a minute longer. I suggest you get to the Dukas on time. His patience isn’t what you might call, well, infinite, and something tells me you’ll be wanting some time with your lady.”

He smiled at Xenophon with his last line and turned for the door. Xenophon looked back to see the beaming grin from Glaucon and a stern expression on the face of Roxana.

“What?” he asked in mock surprise.

“If she told you, then trust she is of royal blood. She is the daughter of an Imperial Satrap after all, isn’t she?”

Xenophon said nothing, but the leering look from Glaucon was now starting to annoy him. He opened his mouth to tell him to stop, but Tamara surprised them all by standing up and making to leave the room.

“Hey, where are you going?” asked Roxana.

Tamara looked back to her, and it was clear she had been crying.

“I need sleep.”

Then she was out through the door and gone.

Glaucon coughed before spurting out his concerns.

“Is it just me that’s starting to find her a little annoying? What the hell is her problem?” he said, lifting up his hand to get the attention of those serving the drinks. A woman, one of the cleaners came over and dumped another beaker next to him and waited patiently for her payment.

“Anybody else?” he asked before paying, and they all shook their heads. Once the woman had gone, Xenophon spoke.

“It’s clearly something to do with Andronicus and his group. You saw how she dispatched him on the command deck. Even Xenias was surprised at her brutality. If you ask me, I’d say either he or his group had something to do with her past, probably something related to her becoming an orphan.”

“Orphan, yes, that’s it,” said Roxana, “I need to see her.”

She stood up and moved to the door, saying no more to the two men. In less than thirty seconds their group had halved, and just Glaucon and Xenophon remained at the table. Glaucon took another long swig and dumped his beaker back on the table.

“Okay, now the girls have gone, you can tell me all about her. Come on, all the details!”

Xenophon shook his head at his friend and did his best to hide his smile. They had known each other for a long time now, and even though their forced exile stopped them from returning, they seemed to be managing in this strange and strife ridden operation. He thought back to Artemas, the way she looked and the way she moved. Then it finally dawned on him. He really wanted to see her again, much more than he should.

You crazy little man, don’t tell me you’re falling for a foreign, no, not foreign, a damned alien noble.

* * *

Dukas Xenias’ quarters were far less salubrious that he was used to. On board the Olympia he had been treated more like a monarch than a commander. The smaller cabin on Vendetta was the largest cabin after the Captain’s but still only just adequate. He was dressed in his formal uniform, the combination of Arcadian military and Black Legion that gave all of them their dark and menacing look. Stacked along the one wall were the various parts of his elaborate body armour, some of it now over a hundred years old. Like the Laconians, the armour of senior officers was handed down over the generations, and it was a great honour to wear the equipment of those that had gone before.