however, and continued speaking.
“We leave in one hour for the Cilician Gates. Upon our arrival, we will show both the Medes and anybody that wants to try and stop us what we are capable of. This is the territory of Emperor Artaxerxes, and therefore by extension his siblings, who include Lord Cyrus. He has asked us to recover this territory, and we will do so as quickly as possible.”
Xenophon was surprised at the mention of the Median Emperor. He had only recently taken power. At least that was the rumour, since little information came from the heart of the Empire. As well as being immensely rich and powerful, the Empire was infamous for its use of agents, spies and assassins.
Are we working for Cyrus or Artaxerxes? he thought.
“We will immediately establish space supremacy in the system, and this will be provided by an advance jump by the Titans. If, as we suspect, the enemy is in the process of attacking Median colonies or outposts, we will assist by launching ground assaults against any of their camps. We do believe this is likely to be a Mulac operation, and it will prove a useful experience for our later campaign. Your commanders will continue your briefing.”
The image vanished, and the room fell silent. Dukas Xenias stood alone and looked out at the assembled troops. Everyone looked both eager and confused at the news. He nodded at them and smiled.
“Our previous experience suggests the Mulacs don’t rush their attacks. They use large numbers of ships and ground troops to blockade a moon, station or even an entire planet. Once secured, Mulacs then strip the site of everything they want. This includes loot, weapons and especially slaves. Assuming any of the inhabitants of Cappadocia are alive, they will have retreated to the royal fortress, the mountain Citadel, here.”
He pointed at the model the soldiers had brought in. The Citadel was gigantic, perhaps almost a kilometre tall when measured from the base. The rest of the city paled in significance to this imposing structure.
Xenophon looked to his comrades and spoke quietly.
“Look at that thing. Are they serious about attacking this place?”
“Who says anybody is there? I bet we’ll jump in and find nothing but the Median fleet wanting to know what we are doing,” answered Tamara.
Dukas Xenias pointed to a number of large industrial sites based around the Citadel.
“This is it. The lands of Tissaphernes are rich. This planet is critical to the Median Empire, and therefore to our paymaster. We will be greatly rewarded for helping to clear them of raiders. Get your gear and wait in the landing bays. I suspect we will be action as soon as we arrive at the Gates.”
He paused for a brief moment before finishing with a simple, “Good hunting.”
He turned and left, leaving the room to the assembled troops. As soon as he exited the door, a great din erupted from the scores of men and women. Glaucon shouted over the noise.
“This is it, then? We’re going to war.”
Jack beamed with excitement, and Tamara stood still, a look of dumbstruck confusion about her. Even Xenophon looked less than excited at the prospect of battle. Glaucon put his arms around the group and beamed.
“Come on, how much trouble can a few thousand Mulacs give us?”
Xenophon said nothing; he just looked directly at him and tried to remember what he knew about the Mulacs. Try as he might, he simply couldn’t find anything positive to say about them. All he could think about was the Citadel and thousands of heavily armed alien warriors.
CHAPTER TWELVE
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.
