Xenophon.
“He’s right, you know. If we stay here, we’ll all be dead in a few hours. The only chance we have is to shut off that weapon so that Clearchus and the air support can come in. They’ll annihilate them.”
The Laconian flotilla spread out to avoid the ground fire around the Citadel. The energy field might prevent signals or electronics, but it did nothing to stop projectile weapons from firing through. One dromon took multiple impacts but continued flying, and a black smoke trail was the only sign it had been struck.
“What the hell is going on down there?” demanded Strategos Clearchus.
He looked at the visual display inside his command dromon, but nothing other than the red haze could be seen for up to a hundred kilometres in any direction.
“We can’t see through the field, or send craft through it, Strategos.”
“I know that!” he snapped back angrily.
Kleandridas knew full well that his anger wasn’t directed at him personally. The entire wave of Laconian troops was waiting to move in and assist the Arcadians. Three dromons had already gone down upon moving near the field.
“Can’t we just hit the transmitter from up here?”
“No, Sir. The equipment appears to be based inside the mountain and is protected by substantial turret and missile batteries. Our records show they match known Median configurations.”
“Okay, then we bring in bombers from the fleet, and destroy the mountain with atomics.”
Kleandridas nodded in agreement.
“Yes, that is a possibility, but we will not have them for at least three more hours. Also, what will Lord Cyrus have to say about Terrans using atomic weapons on their sovereign soil?”
Clearchus looked at him as he thought on the options. He knew that the Median Lord wouldn’t give him permission to use his most powerful weapons. If he did so without permission, it would mean his dismissal and possible breaking up of the Armada. Even worse would be the wrath of Tissaphernes and his fleet. Right now, it was one formidable battleship. His intelligence staff had already estimated he had access to just as many ships as the Terrans, but they had no idea where the ships actually were at present. He sighed to himself, angry that he couldn’t strike out at his tormentors.
“Show me the geographical data again, how close can we land?”
Kleandridas pressed a button and changed the view to one of the surface of the planet. A red dome appeared covering the Citadel and everything out to a hundred kilometres.
“We can land on the periphery, but it will take more than a day’s hard march to reach the Citadel. The last signal that came through said Dukas Xenias had cleared the outer wall, but not that the Mulac threat was over.”
Clearchus pointed to a range of lower peaks to the north of the Citadel.
“What about here?”
Kleandridas turned the map around and zoomed in. The lower peaks were only ten kilometres from the Citadel but well inside the shielded zone. He looked up, confused. Clearchus smiled.
“Look. We come in at the correct angle to intersect the shield. From here, we are protected from the tower weapons by this higher mountain range,” he said, moving his hand over the map.
“We cut the engines and glide in under manual hydraulics, to this point. We’ll set up a landing zone ten kilometres away from the Dukas and be only a few hours from the Citadel.”
Kleandridas looked dubious.
“Glide? Can it be done?” he asked.
“We’ll find out soon enough. Send the command, we’re going in.”
The first hundred metres had passed without incident on the mountainous peak. The rocky path must have been cut centuries before, perhaps millennia, and little now remained of the original work. Where before, there had been deeply cut steps, now there was crunched rubble and split stones. Even so, it was not as bad as it had looked from the Citadel. The Komes was still at the front, along with a handful of the fitter soldiers plus Xenophon and his comrades. Of the three hundred Night Blades that had landed, only ninety had made it to the base of the mountain. The rest were scattered either amongst the other defenders or among the casualties of the battle.
From his raised position, Xenophon glanced back to see what was happening at the Citadel. He was shocked to see the great horde of the enemy had now completely encircled the defenders. He tapped Glaucon’s shoulder.
“Look.”
He looked down and shook his head.
“They won’t last long against that,” he said firmly as something caught his eye.
“What is it?” asked Xenophon.
Glaucon pointed to the bottom of the path they were following. A group of shapes were moving in the same direction as the Night Blades. He tapped his optical unit and found his first close-up view of the Mulacs. They were of a similar build to Terrans but broader shouldered and encased in crude metal armour. Their heads were much shorter and wider than a human; almost like a thick disc fitted on top of a short but wide neck.
“They’re coming after us, come on!” called out Xenophon so that the rest of the unit could hear him.
Komes Pasion and his bodyguard stopped for a second and looked to see what he was referring to. Two small puffs nearby were the only signal that the Mulacs were trying to hit them with long-range rifles. A number of the stratiotes armed with the longer-ranged pulse rifles took aim and fired back. The Komes turned and continued up the steep and rocky path, and his voice appeared inside the helmet of each of them.
“Ten men with rifles stay here and hold them off. Everybody else keep moving. We have to stop them before it’s too late.”
None of Xenophon’s team carried such a weapon. Even the rifle now carried by Glaucon was just a standard issue device, and hardly suited to the sharpshooter role. They pushed on forwards, leaving behind two small groups of stratiotes. Xenophon glanced at them as he moved away, a feeling of fear and guilt as they left them behind. His attention was immediately drawn to the increasing violence back inside the Citadel. From his high vantage point, he could make out a concerted attack from the Citadel side of the enemy. Hundreds of Mulacs were trying to break through the thin lines of defenders. Though the Mulacs were quite hard to discern from a distance, it was much easier to spot the Terrans, especially the heavier armoured spatharii with their shimmering body shields. Flashes of blue plasma and yellow explosions ripped all around the battleground.
“Incoming!” cried one of the stratiotes from further up the mountain.
The gunfire arrived at almost the same time as the man’s warning. It started as a few dozen pulse rifle shots, but then continued to include rocket fire. Tamara looked out from her cover and blazed away with her carbine. She must have loosed off an entire clip before Glaucon reached her.
“Save your ammo. You can’t do anything from down here.”
The eighty stratiotes moved on in two long snaking columns, each just a man wide to reduce the effect of the incoming fire. By the time they reached the halfway point, a dozen had been killed or wounded. Anybody that couldn’t make it any further was left behind. They could come back for them if, and when, they succeeded, the Komes had explained. Down below, the ten in the rearguard had been involved in a long shooting match with the following Mulacs. They were doing good work, but the number of Mulacs had increased by a factor of five. Soon they would crash through the rearguard and on their way to hitting them from behind.
The noise of massed heavy weapons drew Xenophon and Glaucon’s attention. It was much closer than the weapon mounts and appeared to be from a section of the mountain just thirty metres in front, not far from where Pasion was. Two stratiotes stumbled back and tumbled down the mountainside, and the rest of the unit ducked down to avoid any more gunfire.
“Report?” whispered Xenophon on his radio. The frequency was filled with continuous chatter from the dozen dekarchos leading the troops. None listened to him, for a mere stratiotes was low priority amongst the chain of command. One, an older woman that he recognised, was waving for them to fall back. A few followed her commands, but she was grabbed and pushed back by a large black dekarchos.
“We can’t go back!” he roared before jumping around the corner. Another burst of heavy weapons fire struck him in the chest. He took the full brunt of the attack and joined the other fallen. The remaining troops scattered.
