Black Legion: 02 - Assault on Khorram (29 page)

“Indeed. Olympia is lost, and we are all that remain,” he explained as quickly as he could. Even as they spoke, he noticed the Legion’s formation was changing shape. The Median fleet seemed to be doing the same as both sides lengthened their lines wider and wider.

“I see, well, we can discuss this after the battle. I have sent the tactical plan to your tactical officer. What assets do you have remaining?”

Xenias nodded in reply and glanced over to the tactical officer who signalled he was receiving the encoded information on the battle plan. It was a much faster way of assessing the plan, checking ship dispositions and even the general strategy than relying on face to face communications. It was even more useful by the fact that the number of ships was so great.

“I have four destroyers and a large contingent of survivors from the Olympia, at least seven hundred fighters with more on the destroyers.”

Topoteretes Pleistoanax looked shocked at the news.

“Seven hundred?” he asked rhetorically. “Well, form up behind gamma wing. You will form part of the reserve in sector eleven, understood?”

Dukas Xenias glanced at the tactical screen that now featured a full battle overlay, including ship dispositions and orders. Sector eleven was out on the flank but also where a number of heavy warships were mobilising.

“Understood, Topoteretes, we shall await your orders.”

The video feed vanished and was replaced with a large image of the ships that were now facing off for battle. He could easily see the shapes of the three Titans in the Terran fleet, but what of the enemy? It looked like they were also equipped with a larger number of heavier ships, and some almost two-thirds the size of a Titan. He tried counting the number of half a kilometre long Elamite battleships but gave up as the number grew into double digits. He looked over to the plan and scanned through the possible scenarios.

Interesting!
So our military genius Clearchus is planning on extending our lines and then feinting withdrawal of the Titians towards our position. What is the next phase?

He didn’t have time to consider the next move though as every single display in the ship suddenly lit up.

“Dukas, it has begun!” shouted out Kybernetes Manus

Laconian Titan ‘Valediction’, Khorram shipyards

The Titan shook ever so slightly from the initial barrage of weapons fire from the Median skirmishers. Almost fifty small vessels, each not much larger than a handful of dromons welded together, had been thrown at the Legion; it wasn’t an attack in any kind of number. It was simply designed to force him to respond.

I see,
he thought.
So he’s worried I will not fight him. Perhaps his position is weaker than I assumed, and he needs a quick victory.

Cyrus examined the display himself before rubbing his brow.

“It is as I expected, my brother will be concerned that the regional satraps may see this as an opportunity. If they think for a moment that he is anything but a powerful Emperor, they will split from Median control. He has to win a decisive victory that implies we do not concern him.”

Then why rush to attack him?
 
Cyrus thought wryly.

On the main screen a cloud of projectiles, beams and plasma bolts exchanged between the heavy Terran ships and the skirmishers. Though some shields were beaten back, it was clear the attack was having little effect on the fleet. Clearchus checked once more on the dispositions and gave the order every single officer had been waiting for. He drew a slightly curbed kopis blade from its sheath on his belt. The weapon was an ancient one, and over a thousand years old his father had told him. It curved in the opposite way to a sabre so that the point angled forwards instead of back. The hilt was gold in colour and beautifully detailed with a relief of an unknown battle pitting Laconians and monsters in battle. He rested the sharp edge in the palm of his hand and pulled it quickly. The ancient blade cut a small wound into his hand that bled almost instantly on the floor. Several of the officers on the deck spotted him and watched in surprise at the ancient but famous blood oath carried out by only the oldest and noblest of the Laconian families. As the blood dripped, he pulled a cloth from his tunic and tied it around his hand while lifting it and tapping his head. Nobody else could hear him, but he clearly said something to himself, probably a prayer, and then with a quick wipe the blade was clean and returned to its sheath. He looked to the tactical screen and gave the order they were waiting for.

“Forward units advance and engage selected targets!” he ordered.

Almost immediately, a dull rumble could be felt through the mighty Titan as the engines built up to combat speed. It was subtle, but everybody on board, from the crewman to every stratiotes and spatharii, knew what was coming next.

“Fighter and bomber squadrons maintain position around the capital ships. Protect them. Do not pursue the enemy under any circumstances.”

Clearchus knew only too well the stories of the Median forces using feigned withdrawals to lure in ships. He was going to put into practice the tactics he and his comrades had practiced for the old enemy. The tall and wide formation of Terran ships advanced quickly towards the similar formation of Medes ships that were now drawn up to fight. Behind the Medes line were the scores of platforms, stations and shipyards, each looking static and harmless, but he was falling for none of it. Clearchus had no doubt the Emperor intended on withdrawing soon so that his pursuing Terran ships would smash through their rearguard and then be dashed on the substantial defences. The stations would be equipped with hundreds of fighter-bombers, missiles and beam weapons, possibly even enough to match half of the Terran fleet on their own. The image of Topoteretes Pleistoanax appeared on his communications display and drew him away briefly from the tactical display.

“Strategos, the Dukas Xenias has just arrived along with a small portion of his forces. I have placed them on the right flank, ready for the final phase of the attack. They have almost a thousand warriors still with them.”

He felt a brief surge of happiness that his old rival from Arcadia was back, but it grieved him to realise so few had made it. He wanted to know more but knew he had no time for such pleasantries. There were hundreds of ships, thousands of warriors and tens of thousands of crew depending on him.

“Thousand? What have they been doing? Well, good work, pass on the plans to them,” he said and then returned to the tactical display, watching the opening phase of the battle. The massive numbers of capital ships were almost in range of each other, and he knew from experience what would happen next.

Today will be a bloody day,
he thought solemnly, but the thought of such an event brought a grim smile to his face.
Let us ensure it is a glorious one.

The first line of Terran ships was made up of a mixture of the old heavy warships, many of which dated back nearly a hundred years. Sixteen battleships in total, with double that number of destroyers, mixed in for defence operations. It was a force designed for just one thing, to close with the enemy and engage them at close range. They had the armour, shielding and firepower to stand up in battle for a long time. Behind then followed the second wave of five battlecruisers and six heavy cruisers, ships that were slightly lighter armoured but faster. It was a small number, and mainly there to fill gaps in the front ranks if needed. What did make a difference was that the Titans Poseidon and Valediction were in the centre of this formation. The actual mobile reserve consisted of the Titan Herakles, as well as the light cruisers and the remainder of the destroyers. It was a powerful reserve, especially with the firepower of a Titan to back it up. Unlike the other Titians, the Heracles had been constructed to a very different specification. She was equipped with less armour but substantially more powerful engines and closer ranged weapons. The design made her less suited to the frontline, but she was the perfect reserve; fast and deadly.

Cyrus finished speaking with one of his recently arrived aides and looked back to the map with Clearchus and pointed to the force. It was clear to him the one thing the formation lacked was depth, but that was the plan and Cyrus was intrigued to see exactly what the old Laconian General had planned.

“They have more ships in their front than us, so what happens if they simply extend their frontage? We cannot continue to do the same. Is it even necessary to do so with such a gap between ships?”

Clearchus smiled but ignored him for a moment. He was too busy issuing orders via the implanted communications node. The warships were seconds away from firing, and he had just a few more orders to issue.

“We are in range, weapons are free!” cried Tactical Officer Coxand, her voice barely able to contain her excitement and apprehension. The virtual observation system transformed into a kaleidoscope of colour as dozens of capital ships opened fire with heavy cutters, pulse cannons and missiles. For the briefest of moments, the entire command deck watched in awe as enough firepower to level cities was brought to bear on the two sides. It was just a second though, no more, and then the crew were at their posts and managing their own small parts of the battle.

“Our frontline is engaged. Battleships are cutting through the Median destroyer wings and advancing,” explained Tactical Officer Coxand.

Cyrus watched the battle unfold like a game of chess between two grandmasters with a feeling of dread in his belly. He had always known it would come down to a stand-up fight, but now that the day had come, he wondered deep down if his hired soldiers would match and defeat the elite Imperial Navy of the Emperor.

The faces of the dozen most senior commanders ran along the higher parts of the displays, each of them commanding a division of the fleet. Topoteretes Kleandridas signalled for the attention of the Strategos.

“Yes?” barked Clearchus sharply.

“An additional wave of thirty-eight cruisers and destroyers has just arrived. They were sheltering in the cover of the shipyards. They are deploying on the right flank of the Median line and extending it by almost twenty kilometres. Should I transfer our reserve to match them?”

Clearchus looked at the display and spotted the formation of smaller capital ships streaming to extend the line. He knew immediately what the enemy planned on doing and allowed himself a nod of satisfaction.

They mean to envelope me, surround our fleet and destroy us from the outside.

“No, Kleandridas, keep moving forward. I need the entire battlefront fully engaged before we continue to the next phase of the battle. I will direct our allies to match their forces.”

“Ariaeus?” asked Kleandridas in surprise.

“Yes, he can send half his force to engage them. Would you rather he stayed to our rear?”

The implied insult made the deputy commander chortle before he saluted and returned to his duties. Clearchus tapped the image of the Medes commander and the face of Ariaeus enlarged. He nodded politely.

“Strategos Clearchus, my forces are ready for their part in this battle,” he stated clearly, but his tone suggests he expected the exact opposite.

“The enemy have mobilised a reserve of nearly forty ships against my left flank. Deploy your primary combat forces to match them.”

Ariaeus looked confused.

“Is there a problem?” asked Clearchus.

“Uh, no, Strategos, except my ships are guarding the troops transports.”

Clearchus shook his head at him.

“If we lose this battle, then your precious transports will be smashed to dust. Leave ten ships to protect them. I have already dispatched eight fighter squadrons to their defence. Send your remaining forty-one warships to the front, and keep them busy. Do not let them break through our line. Understood?”

Ariaeus nodded, but the pained expression on his face told Clearchus all that he needed to know. Unlike the Terran commanders, this Medes looked as though he was an observer, a man along to watch the battle, but to involve himself?

That wretched Medes wants the glory, and he wants the wealth, but does he want to dirty his hands doing it? I think not!

“Good, now to your men. It is your responsibility to defend the left flank. If you need more ships, then divert your heavy war transports to assist. Keep the conscripted civilian transports in the rear.”

He cut off the communication and looked back to his command deck. Though he was in charge of the running of the battle, he wasn’t required to assist in the actual running of the ship. Kentarchos Broge Monsimm was managing the thousands of crew with the skill and experience only a veteran Laconian would posses. He looked about him, the virtual observation unit doing a perfect job of making him feel as if he were floating outside in space. Dozens of bright streams of energy burned away from the Valediction at the nearest Elamite battleship. Each impact left bright flashes as the beams burnt slowly through the layers of shielding, much like the layers of an onion. No sooner was a shield penetrated than another generator would try and seal the gap.