Median Battleship *Rashnu', Cunaxa Secundus The battle the Legion was currently embroiled in paled to insignificance when compared to the massive bloodbath around Cunaxa. The Emperor had held back over one hundred and thirty ships, including eighteen Elamites for the final battle. These Scythian Class battleships were half a kilometre long and easily capable of standing up to Terran warships. Unlike ships that Cyrus had faced so far, these were elite warships, crewed by the most loyal and well-trained warriors in the Empire. The orbital defence platforms and stations added their own tremendous firepower, as well as feeding scores of fighter squadrons into the fray. This was the first time in the campaign the Imperial forces had faced off against a similarly equipped fleet of Median ships, under the joint command of Lord Cyrus and his trusted lieutenant, Lord Ariaeus. Almost three hundred ships of every type circled over the planet in a confused and bloody battle that saw neither side gaining the upper hand. Lord Cyrus watched as four Elamites moved in close to each other and tore each other to pieces with volley after volley of gunfire. Several streaks of plasma gunfire missed one of them and slammed into the port side of the Rashnu. Cyrus was forced to grab the command throne as the massive impact sent shudders throughout the lightly damaged super-battleship. The command throne was a lonely place, but it was allowing him the perfect position from which to command the battle.

Where are you, my brother? Let us end this!

Of the ships in the battle, one had to be commanded by his brother. There were three super-battleships, each the size and power of Rashnu. He had been able to cripple one, yet the enemy formation maintained order. He had to find it and fast before he ran out of ships. All his fighters were busy looking for any sign of transports or shuttles that might take him to the surface and safety. His brother was arrogant, and he had no doubt that just as at Khorram, he would be standing comfortably in the middle of the most powerful ship in the fleet. Cyrus allowed himself a quick glance into the distance where the Black Legion was busy trying to smash its way through the newly arrived Zacynthians. Clearchus had warned him to keep the fleets together, and he was starting to wonder if the battle would have changed if Clearchus and his ships were with him right now.

Terrans, of course!

He turned around and looked back at the shapes well behind the battle. The outer defences had been abandoned some time before, but the shape of a single Terran Titan was easy to spot. A scan of those ships waiting in the reserve confirmed the size of the small fleet.

Twenty-two ships! That is enough to sway this battle!

He knew that time was now no longer on his side. The battle could go either way and even if he won, it was critical he retained the bulk of his fleet to maintain control of the Empire. It would be futile to become Emperor with just a handful of ships to enforce order. He looked at the ship and sent the mental command to connect, but nothing happened. He waited patiently, and then remembered that the command system worked on the Median vessels only. He would have to send a manual connection request.

"Brother, I see you," said a familiar voice.

He turned about, his mind now thrown from contacting Meno, to identifying that voice. Deep down he knew exactly who it was, but there was also the chance that it was simply his mind playing tricks with him. After all, the number of voices spread over the battle was substantial. Two more flashes announced the destruction of unidentified ships in the fight. He couldn't find their names but did note his tactical roster that was displayed on the left-hand side had dropped several more ships. They must have been his. Then he spotted the flashing icon that marked the transmission source. He'd missed it because it wasn't coming from a ship or even one of the stations. It was actually coming from the planet itself. He selected it with his iris, sending the mental signal to make a full-bandwidth connection. At the same time, the imagery around him changed to show an aerial view of the Cunaxa Secundus. The signal clearly came from a point in the massively fortified compound, known as the Royal Citadel. The face of Artaxerxes appeared inside what looked like an identical command throne.

"My brother, so you finally show your face!" snarled Cyrus.

Artaxerxes smiled, his face betraying no malice towards his brother.

"Cyrus, my brother. You must learn to control yourself. Look what you have done. Instead of acting as a loyal noble in my court, you have turned to pirates and mercenaries to turn on me. You must realise that I have unlimited resources available to me. With one shake of my hand, another hundred ships will arrive."

Cyrus' face contorted with anger at the arrogance of his brother.

"If you are so powerful, why not bring them now? I think you lie, brother!"

The emphasis and contempt on the last word seemed to get the attention of Artaxerxes. His face tightened ever so slightly as if he'd just heard terrible news.

"Why would I scare you away? This is proceeding exactly as I had planned it. The outer defences were a decoy to boost your confidence and to show me your arrogance. You should have taken your time. Now your forces are scattered. The Terrans are surrounded and too far away to help you."

He paused, and Cyrus was left to watch the battle continue to unfold. More ships were being destroyed, and he could see the odds beginning to turn against him as the orbital defences started to turn the tables on his fleet. He needed to act fast. Artaxerxes spotted his hesitation and smiled at his brother.

"How are you finding Rashnu? You must be enjoying the use of my command throne? It does provide an excellent view of the destruction of your fleet. My commanders tell me that your fleet has less than an hour, perhaps a little more if you can persuade your Terran friends out there to help."

Meno!

In all this discussion, he'd forgotten about the Terran rearguard. The interruption of his brother had shaken the thoughts from his head. He turned about to find the group of ships and found the Titan quickly enough. With a simple mental command, he connected with his commanders on Rashnu and transferred the order via them to the Terran Titan. He waited patiently, but it was his brother that spoke, not Meno.

"I have an alternative for you that you might want to consider. Surrender your fleet immediately, and I will make you Satrap of Khorram. You will have lands, money, women and status."

Cyrus turned to look at him. He had expected an offer, one more like the offer Clearchus had been given by his own people. Exile or suffer execution. Instead, he was being offered grandiose terms and that told him just one thing.

He's scared!

It was the last thing he thought he would find. His brother was on the surface trapped and unable to escape. The only thing standing between him and total victory was the fact that his fleet was being taken apart, one ship at a time. He knew what had to be done and selected all of his ships mentally. At the same time, he sent audio messages to the commanders of all three Titans. For all of them it was the same though. It was time to turn from the space battle and to land every soldier he had on the planet.

"The Royal Citadel, Cunaxa Secundus and the Empire are mine!" he growled.

Xenophon watched the hundreds of automatons as they boarded the lines of landing craft inside Rashnu. He'd seen the sight many times before on Terran ships, but this was the first time he'd seen such an event on board a Medes vessel. The automatons represented the majority, and he wondered how reliable they would be as their lightly armoured and equipped soldiers took their places inside the craft.

"Not much space in there," said Glaucon.

It was true though. From what they could see, the automatons were crammed in very tightly, with less space than any other craft he'd seen. It seemed inhumane to treat them this way, but they were not considered the equals of the Medes or the many other tribes that made up the Empire. Lady Artemas watched them go, and she appeared to be the only one with any glimmer of sadness to her face.

"You worry for them?" asked Roxana.

"Of course. They feel pain and fear just like any of us. If they were Terrans, how would you feel?"

More gunfire struck the armour of Rashnu, but the impact that knocked them all to the ground was very different to anything they'd come across so far. Glaucon was first up and helped the others to their feet.

"What was that?" asked Xenophon.

"Don't ask me. I just carry the gun and shoot people," laughed Glaucon nervously.

Artemas was already at one of the display units, checking the external feeds.

"Gods, no!" she whispered to herself.

Xenophon approached her.

"What is it?"

She turned her head, but something caught her eye, and she was instantly drawn back in.

"The Emperor, he must have given a last defence order. Look!"

Roxana, Xenophon and Glaucon all stood around her, watching the bloodbath on the screen. Before, the battle had consisted of hundreds of circling ships blasting each other at different distances. Now it seemed to be mainly the ships of Cyrus withdrawing into a defensive formation while ship after ship rushed towards them. As they watched, two cruisers slammed into one of Cyrus' heavy cruisers. All three were destroyed in massive explosions that sent their shattered hulks out into the path of the other ships.

"Suicide ships? Is he insane?"

Artemas shook her head.

"Not at all, Xenophon. He just needs to hurt Cyrus enough so that he cannot attack the planet. He has more ships, and when they arrive this will be over. The only chance for victory is a ground assault."

Xenophon reached out to her shoulder and turned her around.

"Are you serious? Why haven't we heard this?"

She shook her head angrily.

"I am not part of the order of battle. It is my duty to stay on the Rashnu where I will be safe. Do you think my uncle would give me any information that might put me into the frontline?"

Another massive impact shook the ship, and one of the landing craft broke free of its couplings and slid across the floor. It crashed into an ammunition locker. Two small explosions ripped the front of the craft, and dozens of burning automatons pulled themselves from their seats to avoid the flames. Others ran from their maintenance work to help with the fire. Xenophon pointed to the screen.

"Look."

The image showed an Elamite battleship with half of its bow embedded into the flank of Rashnu. But more serious than that, two more were moving in the same direction and firing continually into the super-battleship's armour.

A large group of Cyrus' Anusiyan Guard marched into the landing area and fanned out, quickly followed by a dozen senior officers. Each was dressed in full battle armour. The larger figure of Cyrus then appeared, followed by yet more guards. They all moved with speed and towards one of the armoured landing craft.

"Cyrus!" Artemas called out to her uncle.

He turned his head but kept moving, his guards almost carrying him to the craft in a hurry. He beckoned for one of his junior commanders, spoke briefly and moved on to the landing craft. The officer ran over to Artemas and bowed. His voice was fast and clipped. Artemas nodded, and he then indicated towards the vessel that Cyrus was already stepping inside.

"They are taking to the landing craft and attacking the surface. My uncle plans on assaulting the Citadel itself."

The ship shook again, and the computer display went black as it lost the external feeds.

"What about us?" Roxana asked.

Artemas pointed to another landing craft about eighty metres away.

"That one has been made available to us. It can carry us as well as my escort unit. We must be quick!"

None of them needed further encouragement. As soon as they moved, the unit of guards followed right behind. Silent and efficient, the survivors of the previous battle covered the ground to the craft and moved inside. Safely strapped in, Xenophon leaned past Glaucon to speak to Artemas.

"What about Tamara, isn't she still in the medical bay?"

A bright orange explosion ripped though the far end of the landing area. It was like a starting signal to the other craft, and they quickly took the hint. The first moved to the launch positions, out through the airlock shielding and into space.

"I don't know. She'll have to take care of herself for now."

Xenophon looked out of the windows, watching as the docking clamps and seals deactivated on the craft in front. Three of the craft had already left before they met their position in the queue. He thought about Tamara, and guilt washed over him as he realised he hadn't even thought about her in over a day. She was young, injured and vulnerable, and he felt responsible for her. He also knew it would take almost fifteen minutes to reach her, and by the amount of damage the ship was taking, they'd all be dead.

Get out of there, Tamara!

He turned and looked at Roxana and Glaucon. Neither looked happy at the situation. Artemas was busy speaking to the commander of the their craft as the pilot tested the engine manifolds prior to releasing the clamps. He couldn't leave her behind.

"I can't!" he announced and then unbuckled himself. Glaucon turned in his seat, looking at him.

"You're serious? The ship is burning. We have to go!"

Roxana nodded in agreement with Xenophon.

"No, he's right. We can't just leave her here."

Artemas reached for her buckles, but two of the Median guards moved in and blocked her path. She shouted at them, but they instantly drew their sidearms and pointed them directly at Xenophon. Artemas stopped struggling, but her rage failed to settle down.

"They have orders from my Uncle. If anything happens to me, they are to shoot you," she paused and took a quick breath. "Go back and find her. There are escape pods throughout the ship. Find me on the surface. I will be with my uncle."

Xenophon considered fighting, but more of the guards had unclipped their straps and were moving into position around Artemas. He shook his head angrily and hit the door release. As soon as his feet hit the floor outside, Roxana and Glaucon followed.

"You remember the way?" asked Glaucon, as they jogged back inside the shaking warship.

"Kind of!" Xenophon replied with a nervous laughter.

Behind them the craft started to move as it followed its automated trajectory. From this point, the onboard computer would ensure the craft left the ship safely. It moved several metres when the emergency airlock blew open; out jumped three people. Xenophon turned to watch the commotion.

"Artemas?" he shouted. Two of the soldiers tried to hold her back, but she kicked the first in the stomach and smashed the palm of her hand into the second. As they staggered about, she ran across the open ground to join her comrades. A burst of gunfire rattled from the doorway, but a stern voice stopped the shooter. A single shot followed, and a body dropped from the craft. Its door hissed shut, and it continued on its escape course.

"I know a quicker way!" explained Artemas. With no further explanation, she ran to the left, disappearing through a service door.

"Crazy bitch!" Glaucon smiled and chased after her.

CHAPTER NINE.

Laconian Titan *Valediction', Cunaxa Nebula.

The Titan shook as the volleys of missiles exploded against the layered shielding. By all account, they had taken over two hundred missiles so far, and still the shields were holding. The screen of light Median warships had used a mixture of proximity and plasma based warheads in an attempt to break the Legion up. The defensive firepower from the battleships and Titans had been devastating. For every ten missiles that approached the Legion, over half were destroyed by focused bursts of fire from the defensive turrets. Even Clearchus appeared impressed by the display of engineering and shield management being conducted by his crew. Even so, the stupendous amounts of weapons fire were taking their toll on the other ships at the front of the formation. Already two cruisers and a battleship had been crippled and reduced to nothing but hulks. A cloud of escape pods and smaller craft surrounded each vessel. They were trying to take off survivors. Some of the officers had urged him to assist them, but Clearchus had rightly refused. Their only chance of survival was to smash through to Cyrus.

"What's our status?"

The Titan's tactical officer checked the screens full of data. There was a lot to take in even after the computer disseminated the data. Shields, hull integrity, airlock seals, security posts and energy levels were all critical to the management of the ship in battle. All of this ship-wide data was duplicated to her system as well as to Kentarchos Broge Monsimm and the ship's executive officer.

"Strategos, shields are down to eleven percent and holding. All stations are functional, and there are no reported breaches. The rest of the fleet is in formation and following us through."

Clearchus nodded to himself, satisfied that the Titan was doing its job. He looked to his tactical display and watched as the full weight of the Black Legion moved through the centre of the Zacynthian lines. For many it might seem madness, but by forcing their way through its centre, they had selected the most direct route. Confusion and distraction were also weapons to be used if they were to reach Cunaxa rather than stay and fight a protracted battle with the Zacynthians. The number of cruisers facing him was incredible, and the continuous broadsides they'd unleashed fell upon the bow of the two Titans and the remaining battleships like rain. He'd never seen anything like it in his lifetime.

"Maximum combat speed, we need to rejoin Cyrus!" he shouted to the Kentarchos who instantly relayed the orders to the crew. A dull rumble shook the vessel, as even more thrust pushed it forward at greater speeds. In an ideal world, he would follow the classic pattern of smashing the line with his armoured colours and then tear the forward and rear sections apart with his own close ranged attacks. But these Zacynthians were much better tacticians than the Medes. As the ships approached, their formation changed to bring their vessels alongside the Legion. Even so, the ships smashed through and were enveloped by the cloud of warships blocking the Legion's path through to Cyrus. The Virtual Observation System gave him the perfect view of thousands of streaks of energy as every ship used its weapons. Every few seconds a number of flashes announced a missile impact or the demise of one of the many smaller vessels.

"Strategos, Herakles is already through."

Clearchus allowed himself a grim smile. The Titan was the fastest of their remaining three and had been designed from the onset to be faster and more agile than the others. Clearchus didn't think much of the idea, but today was different. Right now, he needed speed over firepower. Kybernetes Ditha Artell spotted the changes in the enemy deployment and pointed to a group of six cruisers that were in pursuit of the Titan.

"Strategos, they are targeting her engines. There is a chance."

He's right, thought Clearchus.

Leaving their sterns vulnerable was an issue, and one that could cost the fleet the battle. He looked back to their dispositions and the distance remaining to Cunaxa Secundus. If they stopped, the battle would take hours.

No, we have to keep moving.

"Contact Proxenus on the Herakles. I want him to position a dozen vessels around him to protect the vulnerable area. He can select the fastest remaining ships in the Legion."

He turned to the Kentarchos. The commander of the ship was acting as if in a trance, every second sending an order to an officer or checking the streams of data coming directly to him. Clearchus doubted there was any of Kentarchos in the Legion, perhaps in the Terran territories itself, that could match his skill and speed under fire.

"Everybody keep to the plan."

Auletes Juda Bellee transferred a request directly to Clearchus' main display. It sat in the queue of requests in the corner with nothing but a flashing green icon to get his attention.