Black Legion: 02 - Assault on Khorram (28 page)

“You need to keep this guy under control.”

Xenophon approached them and turned, pointing to the two new arrivals.

“These are my friends and also your protectors. This is Roxana, ex-Alliance naval officer and expert in tech, weapons and flight management. You will not find a more experienced or intelligent officer like her in the Legion.”

He then turned to Glaucon who was motionless and staring at her.

“This larger than life character is my old friend Glaucon from back home on Attica. What he lacks in manners, he makes up with determination, skill and strength.”

Artemas smiled at him, “I have no doubt.”

She looked over to the young Tamara who was busy examining the Medes female from head to toe. Her attention seemed especially concentrated on her Median clothing.

“And you must be Tamara?” she asked.

Tamara looked at her but said nothing. Artemas glanced over to Xenophon as she tried to work out how she must have offended the young woman. He simply shook his head in annoyance.

“Tamara is a special case. She is fast, agile and quite the specialist, aren’t you?” he said while doing his best to encourage her.

Tamara shrugged but again said little. Artemas looked at her face and noticed the anger that was hidden behind her eyes. She’d seen the same look before, many years earlier on some of the worlds cleansed by the Taochi; a race of monstrous warriors that had swept through large parts of the Median Empire before being crushed by a vast Imperial Armada. The race was bipedal, and of similar shape and build of an upright bull, but with a strongly muscled upper torsos and arms. Some of the children she had seen in the aftermath of the war or liberation had the same look of fear that Tamara exhibited. She turned her head slightly and walked over to the stack of training weapons she had just brought in.

“Do you like to fight?” she asked her.

At this question Tamara’s face lit up. She cocked her head and followed Artemas as she examined the weapons. She withdrew two short swords, each no longer than a metre and looked back over her shoulder to Tamara. She smiled inwardly at seeing the young woman watching.

So, you are interested in something,
she thought.

Artemas moved back into the centre of the room where she had recently fought Glaucon. She carried in each hand one of the synthetic training weapons, and each one was similar in size and weight as an ancient machete. She spun them in her hands with great skill and precision before stopping and pointing the tips of both towards Tamara.

“Well, shall we dance?” she asked and hurled the blade in her left hand to Tamara. It was a perfect throw, and the weapon followed a curved course towards the young woman’s face. At the last moment she reached out and caught the hilt.

“Sure, we can do that,” she answered with genuine pleasure on her face.

Tamara walked out into the training space and noticed the small number of other people working out had stopped and moved aside to watch. It was a minor crowd, but the extra eyes looking at her increased the tension and started pumping her heart faster and faster. She glanced at the weapon; it was nothing fancy and perfectly safe, providing they avoided the throat and eyes. She touched the tip with her left hand and checked the flexibility. It was enough to stop a major injury but hopefully sturdy enough to deflect a heavy blow.

“Tamara, have you ever heard of the Taochi?” she asked.

The two circled around each other, the weapons hung low and ready. Tamara shook her head at the question.

“No, why?”

Artemas kept moving but was intrigued by the footwork used by Tamara. She was slight and young, but her footwork implied significant training.

Dance or martial arts?
Artemas thought.

They continued to move around each other, both watching and studying the movement of the other. Artemas was now being much more conservative with her moves, doing her best to give as little away as possible. Tamara, on the other hand, had the look of somebody that either had no idea as to what they were doing or were displaying a total disregard for the other as a ploy. She lowered her blade to the floor and stopped, almost expressionless.

“I see, you wish to draw me in?” said Artemas in reply. “Fine, let’s go!”

She took three steps forward and hacked in a horizontal slash that would have decapitated any other person. Tamara lifted her hilt but kept the point low so that she could parry in a hanging position. The blade easily slid off, and she flipped it around to deliver a counter cut to the back of Artemas’ head. The Medes woman neatly evaded the strike by bending down low to almost half her height and then took two steps to the side. The two spun their blades and faced off once more.

“Interesting, very interesting, you’ve been trained in the old way. I thought since our great wars that only the Laconians bothered in this kind of training.”

Tamara leapt forward, buoyed on by her success and delivered a withering hail of cuts. Most came from the left, but three struck low on the left, one almost striking Artemas in the forearm. They backed off once more. Neither seemed particular worn out by their action, and the look of concentration on their faces was marked.

“I wasn’t trained. I learned from experience.”

They moved again and delivered one cut after another, each parrying and deflecting, desperately trying to find an opening, but every time it was stopped. After a long exchange, they separated when Artemas lifted her hand for them to stop. She moved to Tamar and touched her hand.

“May I?” she asked.

Tamara looked back to Xenophon who simply shrugged. She looked back and nodded slowly. “I guess.”

Artemas pulled her hand to her shoulder and placed it on the skin around her collar bone. Tamara shuddered slightly as their skin made contact. Artemas closed her eyes and concentrated for a few seconds before opening them again and releasing her.

“I understand now. I am sorry for your loss,” she explained with a slightly lowered head. The others move closer and Roxana placed her arm around Tamara as though to protect her.

“What the hell was that?” asked Glaucon suspiciously.

Xenophon looked at Artemas’ face but could see no ill intent towards Tamara.

“It is a gift, something a small number of those in my family have. We are able to sense the pain of others through physical contact.”

She reached out to place her hand on Tamara again, but Xenophon grasped her hand and stopped her.

“What do you mean, shared, you can read thoughts?”

Artemas grinned at the suggestion.

“No, of course not, just emotions, and a general feeling that goes with it. If I were able to read thoughts, I would never assume I could just do so at will. That would be, well...”

“Immoral,” completed Roxana.

A low whistle and buzz reverberated through the ship. It was the loudspeaker system.

“Now hear this, our ETA for final destination is forty-three minutes. All crew and warriors are to report to their respective posts and commanders.”

The small group were silent for a second as they realised their long journey through the Su’bartu Maelstrom was almost at an end. Glaucon was the first to speak.

“So our new job is to protect Miss Artemas here, so where do we go, and what do we do?” he asked.

Roxana nodded in agreement at the question.

“That is a good point. Dukas Xenias said I was to report directly to Dekarchos Julius, the commander of his special operation unit. I suggest you all grab your gear, and we’ll meet with the rest of his unit.”

Artemas looked at Glaucon.

“No, my friend, as Xenophon knows, my official title in the fleet is Lady Artemas. It is my intention to be wherever I may be of assistance. I have some intelligence and combat skills that might prove useful.”

Tamara smiled at the last part.

“That is something none of us doubt.”

It was the first sincere and pleasant thing she had said in days.

* * *

“This is Kybernetes Ezekiel Manus. We will be jumping in sixty seconds. All combat troops check the seals on your suits and ready your weapons. Crew, man your stations. We have no intelligence on Khorram, so we will assume we are going in hot. Gods willing, we should find signs of the Legion there.”

The spatharii waited in their groups of ten, each led by an experienced dekarchos. In theory, the commanders would have a certain number of years training, but in this case the men had elected their own commanders where needed. Numbers were low as they had lost the good part of their warriors on the Titan Olympia. Most of the survivors were now waiting in the assembly areas, corridors and landing deck. Dekarchos Julius looked to his own group of heavily armoured spatharii. They were the elite warriors that had help extricate Xenophon and his people from Olympia in the first place.

“The safest place for the Lady is in your care. Her knowledge of the enemy and this area of space could prove invaluable. I want you to go with one squad of my men and establish a strong presence on the command deck. This ship is vulnerable to boarding actions, and we will not lose it again.”

Xenophon saluted and was about to move when he realised the Dekarchos was staying where he was.

“What about you, Sir?”

Julius looked to his veterans and spoke to one before turning back to Xenophon.

“The rest of my team will wait here until called for. You defend the command deck. We will be on station to board enemy vessels or come to your rescue, if you need it...again!”

Vendetta, Khorram shipyards

Xenophon watched the rest of his squad of spatharii as they waited patiently for the hum of the jump engines to signal the start of the sequence. It was only a few more seconds, but the feeling of suspense was palpable in the command deck. Dukas Xenias stood motionless, his eyes on the display. The rest of the bridge crew monitored their stations, and the spatharii simply waited. Then it started. A low rattle that culminated in a short but powerful sense of nausea as the ship leapt between two points of space. It was fast, very fast and rougher than usual.

Must be a longer jump than normal,
Xenophon thought.

The design of the jump engines was a closely guarded secret amongst all Terrans, especially as they had developed a system of longer ranged engines than even the Medes. It was one of the reasons that all Terran ships were equipped with reactor and engine destruction equipment should a ship ever be crippled or captured.

“Five...four...three...two...one!” called out the ship’s Kybernetes. Then with a bright flash the blurred stars and shapes on the computer displays and main screen transformed into an almost pink vista. The dots turned to shipyards, planets, station and large ships.

“What’s going on!” cried the Dukas as the crew checked the ship’s sensors. Around the Vendetta appeared the four Hydra Class destroyers, each of them pockmarked and scorched from the battle during their escape from the Olympia.

Kybernetes Ezekiel Manus was fast, and in fifteen seconds had managed to isolate the key points of interest around them.

“We’ve arrived in the middle of a standoff. Off there, is the Strategos, along with the Legion in full battle array,” he said pointing to his upper left.

Xenias pointed to the massive formation of ships in the opposite direction.

“And them?”

Kybernetes Manus turned in his chair, swallowed and answered.

“The Imperial Fleet, in full battle order.”

Xenophon tore his gaze away from his spatharii and at the monstrous fleet facing them. It was not a mere few dozen ships. This was a larger number of vessels than he had ever seen in one place, and they had arrived right on the periphery of the Legion. Artemas laced her hand on his arm and leaned in.

“That ship there, it is the flagship of the Emperor himself.”

The ship’s auletes called over to Kybernetes Manus.

“Sir, I have an urgent signal from Topoteretes Pleistoanax.”

Xenias waved his hand to place it on the main screen. The face of the deputy commander of the Legion appeared.

“Dukas Xenias, you have returned!” he announced in surprise at seeing the face of the Dukas.