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Authors: Michael G. Thomas

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She then pointed to a single spot near one side.

“This is Iraj, the border outpost and the largest in this sector.”

With a subtle movement, dozens more outposts lit up at every conceivable point through the Wilderness.

“These are the other outposts with a size large enough to support more than ten ships.”

Chirisophus studied the imagery with confusion showing on his face. He looked a little while longer and then to Xenophon and Xenias.

“I understood you had actual intelligence taken from the enemy? This is a map. All it does is confirm there are plentiful support locations for the fleet. I assume from the dour expression on your faces that this isn’t the case.”

Xenophon pointed to the open sector of space on the opposite side of the vast area of debris.

 
“Outpost Iraj received an open message from an operative with Imperial support. The message was sent through the Wilderness and direct to Tirbazus, out in the Hayastan Satrapy. Our next destination and an area we cannot bypass.”

Xenophon gave the nod and almost all of the dots vanished.

Since our arrival, a signal has been sent to each of these positions, and they are no longer communicating with Iraj.”

Chirisophus looked confused.

“So?”

Dukas Xenias, who had been silent until now, pointed at their destination.

“Our attack forced them to send out an alert or signal. Either they were already communicating with this entity, or our actions forced them to act. In either case, they have now gone dark. Either they’ve shutdown, or they are evacuating.”

Chirisophus looked back at the map from left to right, tracking the route he knew from memory.

“But if they are abandoning these outposts, we will have no route through to reach Hayastan.”

Artemas said something in her own tongue; something clearly designed to offend. Chirisophus had no idea, but Xenophon picked out enough words that he had heard before and tried hard not to laugh. Xenias noticed his amusement and also the fact that their Strategos had seen it, too. He attempted to bring the subject back into focus, knowing only too well the mood of the Laconian.

“We need Carduchian guides to help us through the deadliest parts of this territory. More importantly, there is little chance of breaching the border between the two territories without local knowledge.”

“The Sea of Fire,” added Artemas.

Chirisophus’ lip trembled at the mention of the border region. It wasn’t fear, no Laconian would ever suffer from such a trait, but it was at the very least trepidation. Even among the Terrans, it was known as a place best avoided. He leaned back and looked to Xenias and Xenophon. He lifted his hand and made a dismiss gesture.

“The rest of you can leave.”

One by one each of them left until only Artemas remained with the trio. Chirisophus looked at her with impatience.

“That includes you, Lady Artemas. I wish to speak with my Topoteretes.”

Artemas began to speak, but his booming voice drowned her out.

“In private!”

Xenophon gave her a nod, and then the Great Hall was silent. As the door shut, the expression on the Strategos transformed. He changed from looking just a little annoyed to something bordering on rage.

“How dare you both defy me? This operation is under my command, and the two of you are my deputy commanders.”

He stepped closer to Xenophon. His hands waving about as he spoke, immediately unsettling him.

“I decided to capture this site, and instead you stopped my advance and allowed them time to prepare their defenses.”

He then looked to Xenias.

“By your own admission, they were able to contact their comrades, and perhaps even this Imperial operative.”

His eyes shifted back to Xenophon.

“All because you gave them the time to do this and demonstrated that we were weak.”

He shook his head and smiled, as though he’d just understood some great secret.

“From now on, there will be no negotiation in Carduchia, or anywhere else. We will follow a direct course to the next two major outposts and then on to the border.”

“And how will we refuel and resupply? The fleet doesn’t have the fuel to make the last three jumps.”

Chirisophus moved closer to Xenias, his lower lip trembling with barely controlled rage. There was no love between the two men, and even though Chirisophus was nominally in charge of the fleet, he was technically the equal of Xenias.

“I will not take advice from a man that lost his Titan, or to a man that thinks diplomacy and other distractions to be more important than the Legion.”

He looked to the doorway. The implication was as clear as his tone.

“That creature has no place in this fleet. We are Terrans, and the Medes have proven themselves...unreliable at every stage. I would not be surprised if she is the one that has been feeding information...”

Xenophon moved his hand to his flank where his traditional, short kopis blade was slung.

“Watch your mouth, Strategos. Lady Artemas is the only one that can get us out of this mess. Or do you want to navigate us through the Wilderness yourself?”

He nodded to the starmap that was still activated. Chirisophus walked toward it and indicated a number of points.

“It’s not difficult. We plot jumps to the next two outposts, and then a final jump to the border.”

Xenias sighed.

“Then you have killed us all with your rank stupidity.”

Chirisophus looked back at him, his eyes positively glowing with anger.

“What did you say?”

“He’s right,” added Xenophon, “Lady Artemas has explained this part of the Empire to me in detail. Assuming the outposts are still supplied and not deserted because of our attack, we still have to reach them.”

Chirisophus looked confused.

“We just plot a course and jump. How difficult is that?”

“Xenophon rubbed his eyes with frustration.

“The asteroid and debris fields are unlike anything we’ve ever seen before.”

He pointed to the walls of the chamber.

“Just this area alone is nothing compared to the deep core of Carduchia. Lady Artemas says there are sections where not even a Titan can fit without maneuvering under conventional engines. FTL drives could put us in the middle of a rock.”

Chirisophus licked the side of his mouth and considered what he had heard. Then he grinned as though they’d just shared some great story.

“Very well. Get her in here now, and let’s chart the first jump. I want to be at the next outpost and loading up on supplies within thirty-six hours.”

Xenophon looked to Xenias who gave a barely perceivable nod. He then looked back to Chirisophus.

“Very well.”

 

CHAPTER FIVE

 

 

Light Cruiser ‘Antaeus’, Terran Rearguard, Carduchian Wilderness

The view of the fleet never ceased to impress Xenophon. Any ship, even one as small as a frigate was still a wonder of science and technology. The ability to survive and travel in space was one of the great advancers made by the Terrans. He recalled the history books he’d read where vast metal ships had plied the trade routes in the past, but across water, not space. He looked out at the ship and smiled.

“What is it?” Roxana asked.

“Could you ever have imagined a fleet like this one?”

She looked back at the view and wondered quite how deep the question really was. Sure, she had never imagined such numbers so far into Median territory. But she had also never expected to be in a fleet where the number of alien vessels now almost matched the number of Terran ships. Even worse, the people within the fleet were some of the most irksome and troublesome warriors she had ever met.

“I really don’t think I could have,” she answered quietly.

Even after multiple setbacks and pitched space battles, the fleet still looked impressive. Many of the warships had been crippled or lost in the campaign, but the manpower losses were still modest in comparison to the struggles they had been through. For every ship lost, there was at least one captured ship to replace it, and the longer the journey home took, the greater the change in the fleet’s disposition. As before, the wide variety of ships was grouped around the three mighty Titans, the most powerful vessels known to have ever been built. The floating cities were a testament to the skill and ingenuity of Terran shipbuilders. Even so, the remaining three was a constant reminder of the loss of Olympia many weeks earlier.

“Not long now,” said Roxana.

There were no fighters in sight, as all of them were now aboard the capital ships. The ability to travel such massive distances required incredible energy and powerful propulsion units that were beyond small craft. Only capital ships carried the equipment and fuel required for such journeys. The number of shapes and designs in the fleet was as varied as the color schemes. Thessalian and Laconian ships, though similar and sometimes identical in design still bore their own markings. The Lambda symbol of Ancient Laconia, much like an upturned ‘v’ was present on every ship from that territory. Whereas those from regions previously under the control of the Terran Alliance tended to bear iconography from their own worlds or colonies, sometimes even those of their most prominent families. There were even a number of captured transports, some bearing the markings of the Carduchians.

“Woe for democracy,” said Xenophon.

Roxana looked at him and grinned. She was all too familiar with his political opinions. It was one of the first subjects the two of them and Glaucon had ever really discussed. She wasn’t entirely sure which part of democracy he was referring to, but assumed it was likely to be the fleet’s choice of leadership.

“If we didn’t vote, well, then Chirisophus would be leading this fleet by default.”

She looked at him carefully and nodded.

“And you know what that would mean?”

Xenophon didn’t answer, but she knew he understood. They waited in silence until the first of the ships began their final alignment for a light speed jump. Alignment was critical, as was the timing. When traveling at those kinds of incredible speeds, it was critical they avoided moving into the paths of anything that could damage them. An incorrect calculation could see the fleet destroyed in a millisecond.

“You’re right, of course. Chirisophus would have made us turn back weeks ago. We would have faced Tissaphernes and the Emperor, as well as the entire Imperial Fleet. The Satrapies would have sent in their own forces so that for every ship we had, they would match us with a hundred.”

“Yes,” said Roxana, “By now we would all be dead...”

“More likely slaves,” continued Xenophon.

A bright light marked the exit of the first ship, and then one by one the fleet jumped away. First to go were the four light cruisers. They were followed seconds later by the eight captured Zacynthian cruisers and fifteen torpedo boats. Already that was a major contingent, but Chirisophus was holding little back. Against Xenophon’s wishes he had demanded that two thirds of the fleet would jump to the next location. They would seize control of the outpost and then report back with an all clear. Xenophon would then follow with the remaining third of the fleet.

“So Artemas gave him all that information, and this was the plan?” Roxana asked.

Xenophon looked at her and shrugged.

“I warned him of the dangers of this place. Being as we have alienated their entire race, we will have to tread carefully. I wanted scouts to go first, and the Titans would stay as the rearguard. We cannot afford to take chances with what is left of the Legion.”

“And what did he say?”

Xenophon moved away from the view and looked toward his friend.

“What do you think? He has plotted the route, and the bulk of the military vessels will move ahead to seize outposts, ships, and resources. When secure, he will call for us to follow with the transports and prisoners.”

Roxana shook her head in frustration and then noticed a strange look on one of the nearby officers.

“What is it?”

Kentarchos Cadmus went to the screen and looked at it carefully while speaking to his junior officer.

“Are you joking?” demanded the ship’s commander.

Roxana leaned in closer and looked at the imagery of one of the recently captured Carduchian transports. At first glance there appeared to be no problems, but a slight mist off the starboard engine assembly told a different story.

“That’s a fuel leak, I promise you.”

The Kentarchos shook his head.

“You see, what did I say?”

Xenophon wasn’t looking at the screen. Instead, he was busy looking around the ship using the VOB system. The modest collection of eighteen ships and a dozen transports was large enough to present him with a ship in nearly every direction. Even so, he was sure he had seen something off into the distance.

“Kentarchos, I saw something.”

The commander looked over to Xenophon, his brow narrowed in concentration.

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