Michael Thomas - Gates of Cilicia

Xenophon tapped the button on his helmet to increase the magnification of the visual unit. He could see hastily erected defences at the windows and doorways of the fortress. The faces looked almost human, but they had the same thin faces and pale skin he had seen on their commander, Lord Cyrus.

“Medes, they must be the survivors.”

A number of Night Blades soldiers checked three tracks leading out of the base. Xenophon walked over to look.

“What is it?” he asked.

“They had some heavy wheeled vehicles here. The tracks lead out through the gatehouse there.” He pointed back to the wall. The gateway was heavily damaged from the battle, but the gate itself was still intact.

“If you ask me, I bet they send a force to attack another part of the Citadel.”

The man’s voice was nearly drowned out by the arrival of dozens of dromons, bringing the rest of the spatharii. With the wall breached, it was finally safe to land the rest of Dukas Xenias’ forces.

The Citadel, Planet Cappadocia

It took less than twenty minutes for the rest of the ground troops to land their vessels and start unloading heavy equipment. The dromons were dusty and some damaged from incoming fire. Even so, they discharged their cargos of equipment and troops with great speed. Most had landed outside, but one had made the dangerous trip inside the Mulac compound. It was an incredible feat of flying and placed the troops on board directly into the heart of the operation. As it touched down, the door blew open, and a man in heavy Arcadian armour stepped out from the cloud of dust. Some of the spatharii nearby spotted him and knelt down.

“Dukas Xenias,” whispered Roxana.

The armoured man moved forward, closely followed by an armed bodyguard of elite spatharii. He moved into the compound, looked at the damage, and then up to the rest of the Citadel. His armour was far more impressive than anything worn by the regular troops and was covered in ornamental flourishes. A dozen dekarchos rushed up to him and updated him of their progress. Xenophon moved forward to try and hear what was happening but was stopped by another man in heavy armour; it was Komes Pasion, the commander of the Night Blades.

“Stratiotes Xenophon, isn’t it? You brought down the wall?” he asked.

Xenophon didn’t know what to say and simply nodded in agreement. The Komes was a warrior from a completely different background to himself. Whereas Xenophon was lithe, young and intellectual, the Komes was well built, strong and hardened by years of conflict.

“Excellent!” replied the Komes. He wore similar armour to the Dukas, and at this range the detail and inscriptions in his helmet and breastplate stood out. He was not just a mercenary; he clearly had substantial military experience. The Komes walked towards their senior commander and motioned for Xenophon and his comrades to join them. The Komes saluted, and the Dukas looked first at him and then over to Xenophon.

“So, with all the spatharii available to us, it was a simple stratiotes of the Night Blades that gained entry for us. Impressive.”

He looked about as though trying to find somebody else.

“This is your unit I see, but where is your Dekarchos?”

Roxana spoke in reply, keen to be noticed by the old commander.

“Wounded, Dukas. During the assault on the walls, he was struck by pulse rifle rounds.”

“Then I hope he will recover soon. This force has much to be grateful for. If not for this breach, we may have had to call off the mission and lose up to half of my troops.”

Lose? He would just leave his men behind? Xenophon thought, now not quite as impressed as he had been.

The Dukas turned back to his bodyguard and to the newly arrived Komes. They spoke for a while, and every few seconds one of the men would point up to the fortress. More fighters flew overhead, circling around the mountains. Xenophon watched them and almost smiled at the increasing numbers. The operation looked like it was all working well.

That is when it happened. When the operation moved from total victory into a great defeat. It began from the highest point on the low right peak, about eight hundred metres up. From what looked like an observation platform, a great blast erupted. It wasn’t an explosion, and the mountaintop wasn’t damaged. It was more like an area of effect weapon that sent a faint red distortion wave out in all directions. Sensors built into the troops’ armour on the ground instantly picked up the energy weapon threat.

“It’s an enhanced electro-magnetic pulse weapon!” shouted one of the junior officers.

The small number of fighters circling the mountain spun out of control. Their control systems were compromised by the close contact to the blast wave. Those aircraft that were further away altered their course to move well away from the mountains. He watched as one of the dromons that had already lifted off and accelerated up into the sky to start its return trip to the fleet. No sooner had it reached the height of the field than a series of odd occurrences started. At first a number of flashes ran along its stern. Seconds later, the vessel was falling from the sky. The Dukas watched in anger as it continued on its depressing course until smashing into a nearby rocky outcrop.

“The bastards have blocked us in with shields!” he snapped.

Komes Pasion checked a portable tactical unit that was still functioning. Xenophon looked at his hands and breathed a sigh of relief that both weapons were showing as functioning.

I can do without non-functioning weapons if we’re trapped here!

“It’s not just that, Dukas. We’ve lost all communications above the shield. They must be interfering with our digital traffic.”

A loud cry like that of a wailing banshee burst from the lower levels of the Citadel. The high-pitched scream caught the attention of all the Terrans. Xenophon felt a shudder run down his spine at the sound. Whatever it was, it couldn’t be good. He looked in the direction of the sound and spotted movement along the lower levels. It looked like people were breaking out from the structure. For a second it looked like the civilians, but then he saw the armour.

“Mulacs!” shouted a spatharios.

Like a kicked ant’s nest, the trickle of Mulacs quickly turned into a surge of thousands as they charged out of every doorway or shadow. The look on the face of Dukas Xenias changed from interest to near panic. Komes Pasion identified the threat immediately and took control. He rushed over to the nearest unit and pointed up to the Citadel.

“This is a Mulac trap. Form into defensive positions, now!”

Xenophon heard his voice appear inside his helmet’s communication unit.

“This is Komes Pasion. Mulacs are surging from the Citadel. Take up defensive positions, and prepare for assault.”

Almost as soon as he started to speak, the Mulacs slowed their progress and proceeded to spread out, creating a wide front that in a matter of minutes would surround the Terrans on three sides. The enemy artillery opened fire, some from the Citadel and more from the other peaks dotted around the fortress. The first shots were high explosive, and soon followed by the much deadlier plasma shells that dropped down from high weapon installations. The Terrans scrambled into cover, using everything from Mulac cargo containers to pieces of equipment or even the rubble from the smashed Citadel walls for protection. Hundreds of humanity’s best warriors, who until a minute earlier had been revelling in their success, now found their position reversed. They took shelter inside the part of the fortress they had so recently captured and awaited the terrible onslaught of the Mulac attackers. A group of the last four remaining fighters launched a series of missiles at the peak in a vain attempt to destroy the weapon. Before the missiles covered half the distance, they were plucked out of the sky by accurate automatic pulse cannon fire.