Cilician Gates, Median Border Lands
The Titans were the first ships of the fleet to arrive. Each of the massive warships jumped into the system at key points around the main worlds. LLS Valediction and the Olympia, with their larger contingents of mercenaries, moved into position over the fortress planet of Cappadocia, the capital of this sector. Seconds behind the mighty ships followed another two-dozen warships plus scores of escorts. The planet was larger than the old human planet of Earth but from space looked similar. Three small moons circled the world, but none were inhabited. Inside the landing bay of the Olympia stood hundreds of mercenaries. All were in their matching grey uniforms and carrying a selection of weapons, shields and armour. Dozens of dromons were lined up, all waiting like a horde of angry insects. These were the standard swift gunboats used by the Terrans to move warriors into battle. At fifty-five metres long, they were slightly smaller than those used by the Laconians. At key points in the landing bay were map projectors showing the system they had arrived in.
“What’s happening?” asked Glaucon.
Dekarchos Maxentius pointed to the planet on the display.
“No intelligence yet, so we must wait. Show patience, stratiotes. When our commanders have established what is happening here, they will choose our targets and objectives. Just be ready.”
Xenophon reached out and placed his hand on his friend’s shoulder.
“Don’t worry about getting into action too quickly. There are more than enough enemies in this region. You’ve seen the reports, the same as me.”
As if to emphasise the point, the map changed to show the planet and a number of ships in orbit around it. There was at least one Median battleship a short distance away as well as dozens and dozens of unidentified vessels.
“What are they?” asked Tamara.
Roxana looked at them for a few seconds. She was by far the one amongst them with the most experience in terms of ships and naval warfare.
“I’ve seen these configurations before,” she said firmly.
Dekarchos Maxentius looked dubious.
“Really, I was an officer in the Alliance Fleet. These ships are Mulac cruisers, heavily armoured and filled with landing craft. We came across one on a routine patrol back before the Fall. One of the cruisers can carry hundreds of warriors and their gear. Trust me, if they are here, then they intend on putting ground forces somewhere.”
“Assuming they haven’t already,” added Xenophon.
As they watched the display, the Mulac ships powered up to escape. A volley of gunfire rippled along the flank of the Median battleship, but the Mulacs were already rushing away. Close behind them followed half a dozen Terran cruisers. In seconds, the orbit of Cappadocia was deserted of all but the Terran ships and the single Median warship. The Dekarchos was already on his communication unit, presumably to pass on the information from Roxana. It took only a few seconds before he lowered the unit and stepped towards her.
“Good work, stratiotes, that’s the kind of specialist knowledge we need in hostile territory like this. The Medes, the Mulacs, none of them can match the skills we have in this fleet.”
Roxana nodded politely and looked back to her comrades. She smiled, almost embarrassed at the attention. Something must have occurred to her, as her expression quickly changed.
“If these are Mulacs, they will be looking for loot and slaves. We will have to act fast to stop them.”
Dekarchos Maxentius stepped towards them and started to speak but was interrupted on his communication device. He stopped for a moment and turned to the projector unit. The map had changed to show the planet in more detail. He replied with an acknowledgement and then looked to his group.
“This is it, grab your gear. Briefing will take place on the dromon.”
From the command deck of the LLS Valediction, Strategos Clearchus and Lord Cyrus had a perfect view of the planet below. The Virtual Observation System could confuse an unwary officer into feeling they were actually outside the ship, if only for the briefest of moments. The other planets in the system were much too small to be seen this way, as they were hundreds of thousands of kilometres away. Below their feet moved a swarm of dromons blasting away from the ships and making their way down to the surface. As each craft entered the atmosphere, it created what looked like a fireball that transformed into a smoke trail down to the surface. Smaller escort fighters followed them down, each craft bearing the double stripes of the expedition. It was an impressive sight, even to an old veteran like Clearchus. His attention wasn’t on the ships making their way to the surface. It was to the wretched weasel of a man on the main screen.
“Thank you for your assistance,” said a smooth, almost silky voice.
Clearchus looked at the image of the governor of this area with distaste. Satrap Tissaphernes was everything that he despised about the Medians. He was thin, much too thin, and had the soft skin of a man that had never needed to do a thing for himself.
“We’re glad to be of assistance,” answered Lord Cyrus. He looked to the Strategos before continuing his conversation. The look he gave the General was an odd one, as if he was telling him that the Satrap was not telling the truth. Either that, or he was feeling constipated.
“You estimate that around five to ten thousand Mulacs have landed and are in the process of assaulting the outer walls of your fortress island?” he asked.
Before the Median governor could answer, Clearchus spoke, doing little to hide the disgust in his voice.
“Satrap Tissaphernes. We have already scattered the small number of Mulac vessels. Our escorts are in pursuit. What I do not understand is this fortress of yours. It has the capacity to hold over ten thousand warriors plus a hundred times that number of civilians. How can such a small number of Mulacs be causing so much trouble?”
Tissaphernes smiled with the kind of suave look that made a Laconian warrior like Clearchus burn with irritation. He looked to Cyrus, ignoring the Terran soldier.
“Lord Cyrus. As you know, my local forces are engaged in a long and drawn out war on the frontier. We are making headway against the Lydian pirates, but they have enlisted the help of Mulacs to split my forces. Cappadocia has only one habitable island, and at its centre is the fortress city.”
Clearchus took a step closer to the screen, ensuring he gained the attention of the Satrap.
“Yet you are here, and neither fighting the Mulacs or the Lydian pirates?”
“My troops are more than capable. There were, however, rumours that the Mulacs might try and hit our undefended planets, but I was too late. When I arrived, they had already landed. The initial attacks were against the outlying settlements, and they have all been demolished by orbital bombardments. The animals used atomic weapons on the surface. The survivors are inside the fortress city and doing their best to defend it.”
“That is why we are unable to perform effective scans of the surface?” asked Cyrus.
Tissaphernes nodded.
“Exactly, but it is more serious than you might think. If the fortress falls, they will be able to hold it indefinitely. I cannot state how important it is to this sector that Cappadocia is kept under the control of the Median Empire. It isn’t just a fortress. It is also a massive foundry and manufacturing complex. Half the citizens of the planet work there. Ships, weapons and supplies can be built or assembled in almost limitless quantities. If the Mulacs are successful, they could establish an almost impregnable base here.”
Clearchus was becoming less and less patient. He interrupted the two leaders.
“Perhaps if you had garrisoned it with sufficient forces, this wouldn’t have happened.”
Lord Cyrus turned to his military commander and lifted one eyebrow.
“Strategos, perhaps you could monitor the operation on the surface. I will conclude this matter with Satrap Tissaphernes.”
It was perfectly clear this wasn’t a request. He nodded to both men and turned away from the display. The large three-dimensional model of the planet’s surface was in the middle of the command deck and the dromons were making good time. He stepped in closer and watched the progress of his forces. Kleandridas was busy giving orders and spotted his approach. He finished whatever it was that he was saying and turned to his commander.
“Strategos, our first wave, under the command of Dukas Xenias, has made planetfall, and they are due to land at the co-ordinates given to us by Tissaphernes in the next ten minutes.”
Clearchus appeared satisfied with the information, but something was eating away at him. He examined the landing site dispositions.
“Good. Do we have any intel on the region yet? I do not like sending in nearly two thousand troops to an area we know nothing about.”
“Nothing solid. Tissaphernes says this is one of the main camps for the Mulacs. We managed to burn through the radiation twice, and our scans confirmed there is a camp there. We don’t know much else.”
“I see.”
He lifted his right hand and moved it over the icon for the command dromon. It was marked slightly different to the rest of the small craft making their way down to the surface. A video feed appeared from inside and showed the Dukas and his immediate commanders.
“Dukas.”
“Strategos. We’re due to land shortly. I will send the signal once we have established a solid beachhead in the enemy lines.”
“Good work. How many troops do you have available?”
“I’ve brought half of my spatharii, so just under two thousand warriors plus all of my three hundred stratiotes. Pasion is commanding the rest as a reserve force aboard Olympia, should we need assistance.”
“That should be more than enough to secure the objective. My own troops are already on the way. They should be striking the higher levels in approximately twenty minutes.”
“Understood, Strategos. My forces should be able to occupy the besiegers on the lower levels so you can land unmolested,” he paused for a few seconds and the feed jumped a little. “We are in visual range, taking light anti-aircraft fire. Wait, I am detecting substantial air defences and counter measures. Wait, I can see…”
The signal decayed to the level that only the odd single word came through.
“Sir, the radiation must have blocked their signal,” explained one of the junior communication officers.
Clearchus felt uncomfortable. He had always been a front line commander, but this was not the kind of combat he was familiar with. Laconian Dukas and Strategos were famous for fighting in the front ranks of the ground forces.
“Signals don’t just vanish, and I’ve never come across radiation causing this much trouble. Something is wrong, and I’m not about to let us lose an entire tagma of troops to a mistake. Prepare my spatharii. I want them ready to leave in ten minutes.”
His officers rushed about, all sensing something sinister was going on. The loss of this many troops would stop the campaign, and their employment, before it even started. What rankled Clearchus the most wasn’t the casualties they might sustain. No, what really annoyed Clearchus was that the first battle of the Ten Thousand would be spearheaded by mercenaries, and under the command of an Arcadian, rather than a Laconian.
Something about this place doesn’t seem right, he thought, as he walked from the command deck and left the operation in the capable hands of his topoteretes. The further he got from the deck, and the closer he moved to his command dromon, the happier he felt.
The Night Blades spearheaded the wave of Arcadian dromons as they sped past the mountain range and on towards the Citadel. From a distance, the massive structure looked like a single mountain, but the mapping software showed it was actually a mountain range of at least a dozen peaks. The five closest had been used to create a fortified ring around the centre that contained the bulk of the manned structures. The group of nearly thirty spacecraft looked like a dark cloud of angry bugs. Each left a stream of vapour behind as they moved through the low level clouds. Columns of smoke on the ground were telling reminders of the devastation already done by the Mulac atomics. Small groups of fighters circled the fortress, but a surprisingly significant amount of defensive fire cut upwards. At least two fighters tumbled down in a black trial of smoke and wreckage.
“This is incredible,” said Roxana, as she watched the burning downs flash past them.
“Why nuke the place if they want to loot it?” asked Glaucon. It was a good question, and none of them appeared to have any kind of an answer for him.
All of this was new to Xenophon. He had never been in a dromon before and certainly never into battle. Unlike the ships he had served on during his brief time in the Navy, this vessel was completely different. It was an assault ship and decked out with thick armour and a large bay for the troops. It looked much like a beetle with its extended landing legs and multiple engines fitted. The nose bristled with six large calibre pulse cannons capable of shredding walls, vehicles and men. None of this compared to the dorsal turret that sat directly above them. It carried a pair of heavy pulse cannons, each one able to fire a projectile the size of a man’s fist. As well as giving the dromon substantial firepower during landing, it allowed the vessel to be used as a static defensive position once on the ground. At least, that was what Xenophon had been told. He thought a little more about what Glaucon had asked.
“Perhaps they only want or need the fortress?”
Dekarchos Maxentius looked through one of the tiny observation windows and back to his small team. The unit was divided up into ten man teams. An experienced dekarchos commanded each team.
“Get ready, we’re nearly there!” he called out over the din of the dromon’s engines.
“Remember, our job is to smash a hole in their line, and then establish a secure landing zone for follow-up waves. The Laconian spatharii can’t hit the higher levels until we have pulled enough of their defenders down to engage us. We are the bait, and the Laconians will be the hammer.”
Xenophon and the rest of his squad sat in silence, thinking about the plan and the risk in the part they were about to play in it. The Night Blades were the lightest of the infantry being put on the ground and would be extremely vulnerable if not provided with the numbers and protection offered by the spatharii. He glanced at the rest of the men and women inside the vessel. There were fifteen squads armed with the best weapons, armour and equipment any Terran army had probably ever had access to. Following their success in the initial trials, he had experimented with a variety of different weapons, but he kept coming back to the dual Laconian Asgeirr-Carbines. Out of those in his ten-man squad, Dekarchos Maxentius stuck out more than any other. Whereas the rest of the squad were busy checking their gear, he was spending all his time either watching the rest of the unit or looking at their landing site. Xenophon glanced at him, trying to imagine what he was thinking as they hurtled towards battle. Maxentius was a hard teacher, a man with years of combat experience and an almost unfathomable sense of humour, but he was also an excellent shot and a skilled warrior. Xenophon was nervous, but serving under a man such as their Dekarchos gave him great confidence.
Tamara and Jack were busy arguing about something to do with weapons. It was a trifling point to have caused such a furore, but at least it was keeping them from worrying about the landing. A great vibration ripped through the craft, and at first it felt as though the vessel itself had been hit. The Dekarchos looked to his team and smiled at them.
“The heavy pulse cannons,” he explained with a pointing gesture above his head. He tapped the side of his helmet where the communication and telemetry unit was attached. It provided video feeds and tactical data between all the troops in the Armada. It would also let him check the on the tactical surveillance provided by the gun cameras fitted to the dromons. It took only a few seconds for him to establish what was happening.
“Looks like targets of opportunity. The enemy compound is close and already taking heavy fire from our fighters.”
He removed his hand and did a final check on his weapon, a heavily modified Arcadian Doru Mk II pulse rifle. As well as an improved optical sight, it was also fitted with a co-axial low-velocity plasma projector. Xenophon’s attention was taken by an image that appeared on the video helmet mount. It showed the leader of the Night Blades, Komes Pasion.
“Night Blades, we will hit the ground in sixty seconds. It looks like the enemy have already breached the fortress walls and are fighting along the perimeter. We will take their primary forward operating base and eliminate their siege artillery. This will allow the rest of the dromons to land near the ground levels of the fortress. Unit commands are being uploaded to your Dekarchos, good hunting!”
The video vanished and was replaced by a similar feed from Maxentius. It would allow him to stay in permanent contact with his immediate commander. The helmet also showed detailed tactical information on the helmet’s heads-up display.
“Ten-seconds,” he said with a firm tone.
The engines roared as the dromon altered its height to bring it down to the enemy forward base. It was almost deafening in volume and then stopped almost as soon as it had started. The four main doors blew open and ramps dropped from each to give them quick and easy access to the ground. Dekarchos Maxentius was the first out of the ship, closely followed by Glaucon and the remainder of the squad. Xenophon ripped off his straps and jumped out after them and into the open. As his feet hit the ground, he realised it was the first non-Terran world he had ever set foot on. He didn’t have time to take in the moment, as hundreds of projectiles were already smashing around the landing site. He looked up to see the low walls running in a ring around the Citadel. According to the plans, the Mulacs were trying to break in, yet the gunfire appeared to be coming directly from the walls.
“Get into cover, now!” barked Maxentius.
Xenophon ran after the rest of their group, only to see the two in front of him disintegrate from a high explosive blast. He had no idea who they were and ran past their crumpled remains, praying it wasn’t one of his close friends. Glaucon was already dug in behind a rocky ridge and returning fire with his plasma cannon. Unlike the training weapon, this one was hurling deadly glow orbs of white-hot plasma at their tormentors. Dozens more of the mercenaries were already dug in, doing their best to avoid the deadly barrage of fire.
“What’s going on?” he shouted, forgetting that their helmet communications ear was easily capable of sending clear audio signals. A series of unguided rockets rushed overhead and slammed into their recently vacated dromon. The first two rockets did little but tear holes into the fuselage, but the third must have hit a fuel line or ammunition store. It exploded in a bright red flash, sending large parts of its structure over an area of nearly fifty metres.
“Return fire, keep them busy till the heavies get here!” ordered Maxentius.
Xenophon looked over the ridge, being careful to not leave himself too exposed. He could see over a dozen dromons lined up almost as if on parade. The armed variants were blazing away at a series of improvised defensive positions along the outer wall of the Citadel. Along the parapets were hundreds of enemy soldiers. They were all wearing dull metal armour and using an odd mixture of pulse and conventional firearms. He took aim and fired a short burst from his right carbine. The bright muzzle flash partially obliterated his view, but he had the satisfaction of watching a number of the enemy duck down. But he couldn’t tell if he’d hit them, or they were taking cover. The image of Komes Pasion appeared, and he was partially obscured by a cloud of dust.
“It’s a trap! We have lost contact with the fleet since landing. Get into cover, we need to find…”
A bight flash cut the feed, but gave no indication as to what had happened to the commander of the Night Blades. All along the ridge, the remnants of the unit unleashed an accurate and deadly rain of fire into the enemy positions. Plasma shells tore holes in the thin walls, and pulse rounds picked off one Mulac after another. Another dromon landed, and from front its door spilled multiple squads of spatharii. These heavily armoured warriors switched on their shields as they hit the ground and formed up into a loose line, twenty men wide. Pulse fire glanced off the shielding, and for a moment it looked like they might have a chance. The Mulacs redirected their efforts against the new arrivals, and the gunfire striking the ridge cut back drastically.
“Now!” shouted a Night Blades Dekarchos, as he clambered over the ridge and made it ten metres before being struck by three unguided rockets. Half of his squad fell around him, leaving just four to drag themselves back. Xenophon reached out to his commander.
“ Dekarchos, where are the rest of the spatharii?”
He shook his head.
“They have pulled back, and only one from the first wave made it. The rest are waiting to come in, but the defensive rocket fire is holding them off. We need to keep them busy before they can help us.”
Xenophon looked up to the enemy positions and tried to assess its strength. The wall wasn’t continuous, as it was constructed directly into the rock of the mountain. This particular section was the only part with enough flat ground around it to land dromons. The wall was roughly two hundred metres long and flanked by two rocky outcrops. The real problem was the centre of the wall where a small turret protected a rocket crew. Flanked by thick slabs of reinforced masonry, it was almost invulnerable from the ground. Around it were multiple heavy weapon emplacements, and then the hundreds of Mulac defenders.
These bastards knew we were coming. I bet that Median Satrap is behind the whole thing. He must have a plan, some kind of scheme to put us all in this situation.
He shook his head angrily and then looked along the line, checking who was left and trying to see what equipment they had brought. He could see mainly pulse rifles, but there were at least three plasma cannons and a number of shield generators being activated along the ridge.
“Sir, I have an idea about the wall. I think I can put a hole in it, right there!” he said, pointing to the centre of the fortified section.
The Dekarchos fired a blast with his pulse rifle and ducked down to speak.
“To what end? A hole won’t bring it down.”
“Not just a hole, I can bring down a fifty metre wide section, knock out the rockets and give us time to land the dromons.”
Dekarchos Maxentius thought about it for no more than two or three seconds then nodded in agreement. Xenophon smiled, surprised at being given the chance to get them out of the situation.
“Give me half the squad and two generators, and I’ll keep them busy on that wall.”
The Dekarchos looked at him in amusement but could tell the young man had a plan, and at the rate they were losing men, anything was worth a try. He looked around him, checking on the gear and immediately picked out a dead soldier with a shield pack on the ground.
“Okay, Xenophon, whatever you’re going to do. Do it fast!”
He waved to Glaucon who was forced to crawl along the ground to reach him.
“Yeah?”
“I need you, Tamara, Roxana, Jack and one more to come with me to the wall.”
Dekarchos Maxentius leaned in close.
“Count me in, you can take this one, Komes.”
Xenophon almost smiled at the joke, but to him it felt like the greatest compliment a commander could give to one of his men.
“Okay, grab all the plasma weapons you can find and two shield generators. Meet me there, behind that dip,” he said, pointing off to the left where the ridge dropped a little in height. It was also the closest point between the position held by the Night Blades and the base being held by the enemy.
They split up, with all of them keeping down as low as possible. The gun battle continued along the ridge with streaks of gun and rocket fire moving back from both sides. It was tempting to join in, but Xenophon knew they could do little to alter the outcome of the battle. What they needed was to silence those heavy weapons to give the rest of the spatharii an opportunity to land in the open space. Tamara and Jack appeared, both already filthy and dishevelled from the dirt and muck on the ground. Tamar lifted up a plasma cannon, and its large size dwarfed her small frame. Jack, on the other hand, dragged one of the shield generator units and dumped it next to Xenophon.
“Good, that’s a start. Where are the rest?” he asked, looking out for his friends.
Maxentius arrived with no extra weapons, but he did carry two large magazines for the plasma cannon.
“Might come in handy,” he said with a grimace.
“Yes, that is perfect, the more the better.”
Roxana and Glaucon appeared behind. They dragged the body of one of their soldiers, his generator kit still strapped to his body. They rolled him alongside the group, much to the surprise of Xenophon.
“Why not just remove the generator?” he asked.
Roxana rolled the man over to show his front. He was carrying a webbing belt with four distinct pouches. Roxana reached down and opened the nearest. From inside she removed a small metal device with a glowing blue rim. Maxentius moved closer to examine the items. Overhead, a pair of Laconian fighters screamed past them and fired two streams of cannon rounds at the wall. Several Mulacs were blasted apart, but the defences remained strong. As the craft pulled away, a guided missile, as well as scores of tracer rounds closely followed them from the Mulac rifles and heavy weapons. Maxentius shook his head and looked back down at the small orbs.
“Plasma grenades? Where did he get those?”
“We’re too far away to use them though, aren’t we?” asked Jack.
Xenophon indicated for them to look at the wall. Flickers of light ran along the to from the muzzles of the dozens of weapons still blasting away at the Night Blades. His voice sounded almost calm through their communications gear as he explained his plan to them.
“The grenades, they could be useful, but not yet. Okay, here’s my plan. We will move when the next fighter attack starts. Jack and Tamara move to the front and carry the shield generators. The rest of the group will follow them closely behind, so the shields protect us. We rush the open ground to the wall, and I’ll do the rest.”
Glaucon lifted the plasma cannon and slid in a new magazine. The neon-blue ready light blinked along its side. He looked down to the weapons and equipment they had scavenged.
“I don’t understand. Those grenades won’t do much, even at that range.”
Dekarchos Maxentius placed his hand on Glaucon’s shoulder.
“It’s okay, I think I have an idea about his plan, let’s do this.”
They stayed low and watched the wall, waiting for the moment. The spatharii that had landed earlier were making slow progress, but at a distance of fifty metres, they had been halted by concentrated rocket fire. Not even the shields could protect them completely from such a continuous bombardment. They split into several small groups and joined the Night Blades amongst the rocks and cover. Xenophon looked up at the fortified Citadel. It was clear that on the planet this single structure was the most important location, possibly even the most populated. The short briefing on the flight down had explained that Cappadocia was hit frequently by heavy dust storms, rendering much of the planet uninhabitable on the surface. The fortress was built around a formation of five peaks that provided a natural defence against the elements.
“Here they come!” called out Jack.
Behind them, the two fighters were moving in for another strafing run.
“Now!” shouted Xenophon.
The six warriors jumped down from their position with Jack and Tamara at the front. The shield generators were heavy, but between them they were able to keep moving forward with the shimmering shields in front. As the rest of the group huddled in close, they gave the impression of an ancient mantlet being pushed up to a castle wall. Pulse fire bounced harmlessly from them as they moved closer.
“This is your plan?” shouted Glaucon, irritated at the constant patter of gunfire hitting the generator.
“Just keep moving. We need to get close to the walls,” answered Xenophon.
Gods, I hope this works, he thought nervously.
They were making good progress and reached the halfway mark when the Mulacs must have spotted them. A rocket hit the ground nearby and sent a shower of rock and metal at the flanks of the group. Their armour held, but the impact knocked them all to the ground, exposing them to pulse weapon fire. Maxentius was struck twice in the leg, and Glaucon used his great strength to drag him under the protection of the two shields. The wounded Dekarchos reached up and grabbed Xenophon’s arm.
“You have to keep moving. We’re sitting ducks out here. You’re in charge now, so move it!”
The group tried to continue, but more weapons fire continued to strike around them. Another rocket arced in, and this time heading for their left flank.
“Watch out!” cried Xenophon, but there was nothing they could do. The smoke trail seemed to travel in slow motion as it flew down. Xenophon tensed, waiting for the pain of the strike, but instead three armoured men blocked his view.
Spatharii? he said to himself.
More shields lit up around them as the survivors of the heavy infantry massed on their left to provide extra protection. More gunfire blasted them, but for now they had the protection they needed to push forward. In seconds, they pushed ahead and were even able to drag the wounded Dekarchos into cover behind one of the hundreds of boulders littering the ground. Once at the base of the wall, Xenophon grabbed the plasma cannon and aimed it at point blank range at the base.
“Keep clear!” he barked and then pulled the trigger. At this range, the weapon blew a metre-wide hole in the wall that travelled nearly half a metre inside.
“Tell me you’re not going to shoot your way inside?” asked Tamara, her patience starting to wear thin.
Xenophon ignored her and motioned for the rest of his team to hand over their gear. The spatharii continued providing protection, as well as picking off any Mulacs that leaned over the wall trying to hit the Terrans with their weapons.
“That’s it, and those grenades. Put them all here.”
Xenophon placed all the equipment inside the hole, as well as the spare magazines from the cannon. He then motioned for Glaucon to hand over the pulse cannon itself.
“What?” he asked, looking confused and little annoyed.
Xenophon reached out and grabbed the weapon.
“Just give it up. We don’t have time.”
He took it and pulled open the side panel to reveal the maintenance panel. It was small and consisted of a tiny readout that showed error codes and diagnostic information. He’d only done a few rudimentary sessions on the equipment, but from what he remembered, it used a standard plasma coolant core. With a few minor adjustments, he hit the overcharge button, closed the lid and then threw it amongst the rest of the grenades and magazines.
“That’s it?” asked Jack.
“Yep, it should blow in about thirty seconds,” answered Xenophon.
Roxana looked inside the hole and back at Xenophon.
“You’re kidding, right?”
He shook his head and pointed to the cover near where they had left Maxentius.
“Everybody back from the wall, now!” he cried.
They stepped backwards but continued facing the wall, each shield carefully positioned to try and avoid the worst of the fire. The spatharii did the same, but not even the shields could stop all the fire. By the time they had withdrawn from the wall, another five Terrans lay dead on the ground. From the safety of the rocks, Xenophon looked out at the wall, keeping as low as he could. The Mulacs were running about, evidently concerned at what they couldn’t see.
“Shouldn’t it have blown by now?” asked Jack.
A bright blue flash answered his question. The entire centre section of the wall vanished in a devastating pulse of energy that shook the very ground they stood on. The shockwave was immense, and anybody unfortunate to be exposed was hurled to the ground. Behind the blast came a thick cloud of dust, completely obscuring the Terrans.
“Inside!” shouted the commander of spatharii.
Along the line, the dust-covered soldiers picked themselves up and rushed to the breach. Visibility was down to less than ten metres, and whereas before they had been taking considerable fire, the enemy could no longer see them. Glaucon and Xenophon helped carry their wounded Dekarchos inside the walls and pushed on forward until reaching an open command post. By the time they reached it, the spatharii had already cut down the surviving Mulacs and secured the area. The gunfire dropped to just a flicker, and the dust cloud was already clearing.
“Good work, you might be a Night Blade after all,” said their Dekarchos through a grimace. The pain from his injuries was obviously substantial, but the effect of the drugs built into his suit seemed to be helping, at least a little.
As more of the dust cleared, the damage caused by the overcharged plasma cannon became obvious. A massive rupture had split the wall down through the middle and left a hole nearly fifteen metres wide. Smashed rock and crushed Mulacs lay all around from the force of the impact. Nearly fifty Mulacs were stood in a confused group, surrounded by Terran soldiers who were busy searching them for weapons.
“Look at this place,” said Roxana. She stood up to examine the inner section of the fortress. The wall was a good distance from the base of the fortress and open. Tents and various apparatus littered the area that clearly had been used as the Mulacs forward base.
“I don’t get it. Why did they camp out here instead of inside? Is this it? There can’t have been more than four or five hundred of them in the base, and most were on the wall waiting for us.”
Jack pointed to something in the distance.
“That’s why. If you look carefully, you can see their faces, and they ain’t no Mulacs.”
Xenophon tapped the button on his helmet to increase the magnification of the visual unit. He could see hastily erected defences at the windows and doorways of the fortress. The faces looked almost human, but they had the same thin faces and pale skin he had seen on their commander, Lord Cyrus.
“Medes, they must be the survivors.”
A number of Night Blades soldiers checked three tracks leading out of the base. Xenophon walked over to look.
“What is it?” he asked.
“They had some heavy wheeled vehicles here. The tracks lead out through the gatehouse there.” He pointed back to the wall. The gateway was heavily damaged from the battle, but the gate itself was still intact.
“If you ask me, I bet they send a force to attack another part of the Citadel.”
The man’s voice was nearly drowned out by the arrival of dozens of dromons, bringing the rest of the spatharii. With the wall breached, it was finally safe to land the rest of Dukas Xenias’ forces.