A low rumble from further down the mountain signalled the approaching Mulacs. As if to emphasis the urgency of their situation, a volley of rockets exploded outside the archway into the lower level.
“I’ll hold them off down here. You go!” said Roxana.
The Dekarchos looked at her and then to his Komes who simply nodded at him.
“Assault the higher levels, destroy the weapon and get Clearchus down here, fast!”
His eyes fluttered and he passed out of consciousness. Roxana bent down to check his breathing. She waited a moment and sighed.
“He’s breathing.”
The Dekarchos signalled to the guards to help carry the wounded commander into the relative safety of the lower levels. Roxana and Xenophon followed them and into the large, hexagonal room that marked this level of the mountain stronghold. In the middle of the room was a pit that filled nearly half the space. Xenophon leaned over its precarious edge and looked down. It was pure black. Taking a small rock from the ground, he dropped it, only for it to take an age before a gentle clunk signalled its landing.
“Let’s not fall down there,” suggested Roxana.
The guards dragged the Dukas to the far side of the room and at the base of the tunnel. It was a more recent addition and in a much better state of repair to the entrance. At a point of fifty to sixty metres up the tunnel, it split into a series of corridors and rooms.
“We’ll need time to find the weapon or its power source,” said the Dekarchos. He glanced at Xenophon and Roxana.
“You’re the stratiotes that blew the wall, right?” he asked.
Xenophon nodded.
“Good, you’re with me. Roxana, you know your way around command, don’t you?”
“I was an officer with the Alliance.”
“Yeah, I heard that. Rumour has it you were at the last battle around Attica.”
“We both were,” added Xenophon.
“I need experience, and most of these are newly recruited commanders. I’m giving you a field promotion, Roxana Devereux. From now, you’re a junior Dekarchos in the unit.”
He stood up and waved over to the other leaders. Most of the stratiotes took cover and watched for any signs of the approaching Mulacs. Several of the commanders had already been killed on the ascent, leaving just a handful to move back. Once gathered around the wounded Pasion, he began.
“Stratiotes Devereux has been promoted to junior Dekarchos. She is the most experienced of you all. I want her plus half of the unit to stay behind and keep the Mulacs busy. Start in this room.”
He extended both arms and looked about the large hexagonal room.
“Use crates, junk, even bodies, and fortify the area. You need to buy us the time to get to the higher levels, and take out the weapons. Understood?”
They nodded in silent agreement and jumped into action. The room itself contained a number of crates and abandoned or broken down machines and equipment. With over thirty stratiotes on the one level, they made quick progress. Tamara and Jack threw themselves into work and helped barricade the doorway, and at the same time doing their best to avoid the sporadic gunfire from the Mulacs outside. Jack chanced a quick looked out of the door and barely made it back inside, as a dozen shots smashed around the arched doorway.
“They’re massing for an assault, so whatever you’re going to do, do it fast!” he shouted.
Dekarchos Calum nodded and moved to the tunnel, closely followed by Xenophon, Glaucon and almost thirty more stratiotes. Komes Pasion and his guards stayed where they were, helping to protect the commander and their position. Xenophon moved into the tunnel to feel a hand grab him. He spun around to find Roxana pulling him forward. He was taken so by surprise that he almost struck her with his Asgeirr-Carbine. She planted her lips firmly against his and pulled him against her body. It was a brief moment, and Xenophon was speechless. She stepped back and moved to her group, looking over her shoulder.
“Don’t do anything stupid. I’d like to see you again, and in one piece.”
Xenophon looked back to the tunnel to see his old friend Glaucon smiling, almost sniggering at him.
“About time, old son!” he laughed.
Multiple streams of pulse cannon fire blasted into the sky around the group of dromons. A single round was easily capable of tearing a metre-wide gash in any of them. The longer they stayed in the air, the greater the chance they would be struck. The lead craft was the command dromon crewed by Clearchus, and it already showed several sections of minor damage on its fuselage.
“How close are we to the landing zone?” asked Clearchus to the kentarchos of the dromon.
The officer checked his display. He pressed several buttons and checked the vessel’s navigation readouts. A green tunnel indicated their path through the energy field and down to their landing zone. With a final check, he twisted his head to look over to his commander.
“Seventeen minutes, Strategos. We hit the shield in just under a minute, and then we cut the electronics and glide on in. We can use our mechanical thrusters to provide extra thrust. It’s not enough for powered flight, but it does mean we can come in lower and faster.”
The pilot looked concerned, and that worried Clearchus. He wasn’t a man that left anything to chance, and the idea of crashing and burning was one he was keen to avoid.
“Can you do it?”
“No problem. It won’t be easy, but these birds are designed to make glider landings from breaking orbit. That’s what they were originally built for, back in the day.”
“Understood,” replied the Strategos. He nodded in satisfaction and turned to his personal unit waiting patiently inside the vessel. They were the best of the Laconians, and that meant they were the best that existed, at least in the eyes of the Terrans. The warriors wore the uniform of the Ten Thousand along with the armour, helmet and accoutrements of the Laconian infantry. Clearchus looked at them with a mixture of comfort and pride. He had no doubt there wasn’t a single obstacle they couldn’t overcome. He exhaled and thought about the Citadel, trying to imagine the battle that Xenias must have become involved in. His mind was so busy that he barely noticed Kleandridas indicating towards the mapping unit.
“Strategos, I have information from Pleistoanax. He says he has received reconnaissance data from high level probes that indicate something big is happening at the Citadel.”
“Big?” Clearchus asked.
“Energy output, radiation levels and communication traffic. So far he has been unable to pinpoint anything specific, but it looks like a massive ground operation is ongoing.”
“Dukas Xenias, he must be in trouble,” added Clearchus.
Kleandridas nodded and moved the map to show their landing area.
“Tactical analysis shows the main peaks around the Citadel would be ideal locations for aerial defence and artillery. My suggestion is to drive to the Citadel, and then attack the primary peak here.”
The lower peak filled the screen; it was small compared to its cousins around it but still a large structure.
“This is the source of the energy shield. Once eliminated, we can make use of the high ground at these points to mount temporary heavy weapons.”
He selected the open channel that would put him through to all the Komes and dekarchos in the force. He took a breath and a final glance at the skyline.
“This is Strategos Clearchus. We will break the shield barrier in a matter of seconds. Check your gear, and prepare for combat landings. Speed is paramount. We must reach the Citadel as quickly as possible. Xenias and his people are depending on us.”
Alarms triggered inside the dromon, followed by the lights dimming and the sound of the vessel’s system cut to silence. All that remained were the loud rumbles coming from the turbulence and friction of the dromon moving through the air. Kleandridas looked at him.
“This is it,” was all he said.
A bright red aura ripped through the interior, starting at the front of the craft and then moving to the rear. It was all over in less than a second. Clearchus felt the nose of the dromon drop as they countered the lack of power from the engines by sacrificing height. Luckily, they were of sufficient height and travelling at the correct speed to allow them to reach their destination without the use of the engines.