waiting for my arrival?” asked Cyrus with a smooth, elegant voice.
“Yes, Tissaphernes implied that the situation at the gates required our attention, and that you had already promised our services to him. We were attacked by a number of raiders before you arrived.”
“Yes, that is what I heard. I will be discussing this with him shortly. Tissaphernes is a strong friend and ally of my brother, the Emperor. But do not let this fool you. He is a lord and mighty ruler in his own right. My brother may rule the largest domain in the galaxy, but he does so with the co-operation of his Satraps. Each has control of many worlds, soldiers, even ships. It is through the support of the local Satraps that he wields his power. But Tissaphernes is something else. Do you know what he did when my brother became Emperor?”
Clearchus fidgeted uncomfortably. Court and political intrigue was something he really didn’t enjoy. He’d come from a state that valued military service and loyalty above all else. That had not stopped him being exiled from his own people after his victory over the Alliance. It seemed the one thing they feared back home, even more than defeat, was a victorious general. He’d managed to miss the end of the war with the Alliance and been left to rot in one of the League’s many border stations. Strategos Lysander, one of his archrivals, had won acclaim in that war, and he wouldn’t forget the betrayal. Cyrus watched him, intrigued by the man’s change when the subject shifted from combat to politics.
“Well, the short version is that Tissaphernes implied that I was against him becoming Emperor. We almost came to blows, even as my father lay dead but still warm.”
“That is why you forced yourself into involuntary exile to your own borders?” asked Clearchus.
“In part, yes. Watch Tissaphernes. His interests lie in one place only, himself. He would sooner kill either of us than see his own position affected.”
He looked out at the assembled Armada. It was a mighty force, but he could also see the precarious position they were in. Unlike the Terrans, he knew the size of the enemy. Even Clearchus couldn’t comprehend the numbers arrayed against them if they were not quick. He turned back to Clearchus.
“As it stands, we cannot start the campaign along the border until we have established a series of staging posts. We are not fighting one fleet but a co-ordinated series of attackers. The last thing I want is to end up trapped and with limited supplies. We need substantial fuel and supplies before making the next series of jumps, and this area is the only place within ten jumps that can provide this.”
“Why the urgency?” asked Clearchus.
Cyrus watched him, waiting before answering. The General knew the basic plan and the mission, but did he want to give him the details for his real objective? The longer he withheld the specifics, the harder it would be for the Armada to turn away. There was a chance they would simply turn and leave if he told them the truth.
A little truth will hide the lie. A smile formed on his face. He knew well the strengths and weaknesses of most of the Terran factions. The Alliance was proud and easily angered. The Laconians were quiet, stoic but irresistible in battle and violence. It would be easy to goad them into battle when it suited him.
“We have a large fleet, but even the most foolish of enemies will have scouts and spies. The longer we take, the greater the chance he will have to bring in more forces. I am just worried we will increase the difficulty by waiting, that is all.”
“Numbers don’t concern me,” said Clearchus with a strong sense of pride.
They should, my young friend. Cyrus almost felt pity for the man’s hubris.
“The Armada is in excellent shape. You have done your work well. The Terran contingents alone are already enough to provide over thirty bandon. I do not know of any ground force that could stand to their number or quality.”
“You think this, even of your non-Laconian troops?” asked Cyrus, somewhat surprised at his comments.
“They may not match my Laconians, but they are still strong, well drilled and trained. With your coin, we have sufficient quality weapons and armour to equip the entire force. Every Terran here has military experience and training and are more than a match for any Medes, Mulac or even Mycona.”
“I see, and your ship?”
Clearchus nodded at the question.
“As you would expect, my Laconian infantry are fit, trained and ready for battle. They are itching to get stuck into the enemy, my Lord. What of this contingent? Do we not already have enough troops?”
Cyrus smiled at the General.
These Laconians, they seem simple with their constant training and desire for conflict. Yet there is something about them, something simple perhaps to admire. Their courage, or is it the simple pleasure they take from doing something well?
“I’ve heard about your ship, one of the last twelve Titans still in existence amongst your people. My father tried to destroy them all, you’ll recall? They proved somewhat difficult. As for the contingent, they are a last minute addition from the Ionian Realm, and they have their own special talents.”
Clearchus smiled, but due to a small scar above his lip, it looked more like a snarl. He had no great vendetta against the Empire, but he did wear that self-satisfied expression worn by most Laconians because they all knew, man for man, they had no equal.
“I see. Yes, the Ionians are probably the best shipbuilders and engineers we’ve yet encountered. Still, I don’t see what use they will be in this expedition. I’m sure you have your reasons.”
He waited, but Cyrus said nothing. It was clear he was not interested in discussing it any further. Clearchus might be officially in charge, but Cyrus held the purse strings, and in a mercenary adventure such as this it was all about the money. He thought back to his comments about his ship.
“Lord Cyrus, your people in the Empire may have infinite resources, people and ships, but none are a match for a Terran Titan and her crew. A hundred Median vessels would be hard pressed to even board a Titan. And why would you ever want to board one? Especially one protected by Laconians!”
“Quite. You would do well, young Clearchus, to not become too smug about your position with the Terrans. Your people and your ships are strong, but nobody, not even Laconia, is invincible. Perhaps if you had a few more people of your own, your own planet wouldn’t be in such a poor position. A few earthquakes and a slave revolt, and suddenly you are without money or manpower. Remember my offer, The Median Empire is prepared to make a sizable offering of our own automatons to help your people. They may not be as strong and durable as your own slaves, but they are numerous and loyal.”
Clearchus snorted with derision at the prospect of having Median automatons toiling the lands that his ancestors had protected and built.
“Never. We are not perfect. I will give you that. But we will rebuild, and with the money from this expedition, the Laconian League will become the strongest and dominant empire amongst all Terrans. Don’t misunderstand our use of indentured workers in our society. They are treated well and are able live long and stable lives on Laconia. The use of artificially created life is outlawed on every civilised Terran world.”
Cyrus nodded as if agreeing.
He cannot see it. The weakness that he feels is his people’s strength.
“The slave revolt on your planet would suggest otherwise, though?”
He watched the General’s reaction and quickly regretted his words. It was critical that the Laconian general would command his forces in battle. He might be an able politician and administrator, but there was no doubt who the true masters of war were. He looked at Clearchus and spotted the tension building in him.
They are so quick to anger, so passionate and so willing to fight.
“I’m sure your friends in the Alliance will be glad to hear that Laconia will once again be powerful and well resourced,” laughed Cyrus, doing his best to calm the situation and avoid a possible confrontation.
Clearchus was no fool and noted the change in Cyrus’ voice. The Median nobleman had clearly realised he had overstepped his mark. He avoided the earlier comments and smiled, at least as close to a smile as he could muster. Cyrus relaxed a little, glad that they were back on neutral territory, for now.
“It amazes me how with all of the worlds and empires run by you humans, you seem to spend more time fighting each other than a common enemy.”
He crossed his hands in front of his body and smiled.
“Not that I am complaining, of course. Because of your constant fighting, you have produced the finest fighting men and women in the known Galaxy.”
He turned and looked out through the thick, reinforced window.
“And that is no easy feat, when you see some of the warriors in my brother’s Empire.”
