Michael Thomas - Gates of Cilicia

“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.”