Lost Legion- Blood and Honor Read online

  “Wing commanders,” called Cassia, “go to full attack speed. Indigenous anti-aircraft fire is too slow to track you.”

  “Confirmed, Centurion,” replied the Wing Commanders, almost in unison.

  Squadrons I through IX entered atmosphere in close formation. They were the vanguard of Aquilinus Wing, commanded by Centurion Augustus Lucilius Flavianus. From the trajectory, Cassia could tell that they were heading directly for the beacon that Aurelius wore. Flavianus’ personal beacon was blazing on the lead fighter of Squadron I. He was young and brash, but a close friend of Aurelius. Flavianus would come to the aid of his friend or die with him.

  “All dropships,” called Cassia, “prepare for recovery operations.”

  There were gasps around the bridge. Everyone knew that recovery was another word for retreat and the Iron Legion did not retreat.

  “Praefect Aurelius,” said Cassia, toggling the command frequency on her board, “prepare for recovery.”

  “Negative,” snapped Aurelius. “There is no way to clear a landing zone. If we drop the shield wall, they will swarm us. We stand, or we fall behind the wall!”

  Cassia studied the tactical map of the area and saw what Aurelius meant. There were more of the creatures coming up out of the ground by the second.

  “Soon, they will number in the hundreds of thousands,” she thought, panic filling her. “There is no way to save the legion.”

  She fought hard to keep down the fear that was rising in her throat and it took all her training to keep it from showing on her face. Unless the attack fighters could change to tide of the battle, then the Iron Legion was lost. Cassia was going to do everything in her power to see to it that didn’t happen.

  “All Gunners,” she chimed, “begin targeting areas for orbital bombardment. Concentrate fire on large clusters of the indigenous life-forms and well away from our own troops. Fire when ready.”

  Space was bracketed with the glowing fusillade unleashed from the ship’s main guns. Every warship in the fleet unloaded with everything it had, completely decimating entire sections of the continent below them. The bombardment would undoubtedly destroy some of the planet’s resources, but the precious iridium ore was deep within the planet and would remain untouched from the onslaught.

  With the fighters providing close air support for the legion on the ground and the main guns of the fleet decimating large sections of the planet’s populace, they would turn the tide of this battle even if they had to crack the planet in half to do it. After all, it was just as easy to mine the iridium from an asteroid field as it was on a planet. The cost of the mining operations was not a consideration for the legion. They lived only for battle.

  The legion would take this planet, or they would march into Perdition’s Flames to the last man before they accepted defeat. To the legion, it all came back to the ancient adage: ‘Come back with your shield, or on it.’

  “Hold the line,” whispered Cassia, watching the battle readout on her screen with an intense gaze.

  Chapter IV

  The Orb

  “Courage, above all things, is the first quality of a warrior.”

  - Carl von Clausewitz

  “Hold the line!” bellowed Aurelius, landing in the middle of the formation with a resounding boom and a burst of his jump-thrusters.

  All around him, the legionnaires were following their orders flawlessly, just as they had been trained. The front ranks were locking their shields together and forming a circle around their Centurions and Praefect. Shield systems synchronized, and the harmonics cascaded through several different colors until the entire field energized with the same actinic blue. The shield-wall was complete.

  Glancing at his heads-up display, Aurelius could see that the rest of the legion was responding to his orders, as well. Casualty estimates were moderate, but there were numerous reports of damage to armor and control systems. These creatures might not be inflicting heavy damage on them, but nothing short of the heavier ordinance seemed to slow the things down. Projectile systems were almost useless against them and only the heavier energy weapons had any effect. However, swords were still very effective.

  “So be it,” muttered Aurelius. “All cohorts prepare to engage at hand to hand range.”

  Without hesitation, the Centurions began to bark out the orders to draw bladed weapons. Across the lines, the soldiers of the legion began to draw steel. The front ranks all drew the Gladius blades, while the second rank drew the Pilum from the scabbard on their backs. Modern technology had improved on the weapon, but the primitive effectiveness had not changed through the centuries.

  The initial configuration of the Pilum was only a steel cylinder about two feet long. When the system was activated, the tube telescoped outward to form a nearly two-meter-long shaft topped with a triangular head that was keenly sharpened for piercing armor and barbed at the ends to prevent it from being removed. It would bury itself into its target and become stuck fast, doing additional damage when it was either removed or when the target moved.

  All around the formation, the scorpion-like creatures continued to grow in sheer numbers until there was a veritable sea of the creatures surrounding them. Although they were staying back from the rippling energy field, it was clear that they were searching for a weakness in the field or a way through it. If the creatures broke through the wall, then the legion was lost. Aurelius was not going to let that happen.

  In the distance, Aurelius could see the fighters streaking through the night sky. They were dealing death down onto the creatures, but never straying too close to the formations of legionnaires. Although they all appreciated the damage they were doing, Aurelius knew that they were going to have to get much, much closer if they were going to break the lines of the creatures that surrounded them.

  “This is a good death,” called a voice to his left.

  Aurelius turned towards the armor that now stood beside his to see the smiling face of the Primus Pilus, Cassius Rufio Avilius: Casca to his few friends. Although his armor was battered and scorched, the old veteran was grinning like a cadet on graduation day.

  “It is good to see you, Casca,” said Aurelius, returning the smile.

  “The Gods are truly smiling on us, Marcus,” said Casca. “This battle will be worthy of song. You will get an opera, at the very least.”

  “Perhaps you will get one of your own,” replied Aurelius.

  “I am just an old soldier,” replied Casca. “I will settle for one good song.”

  “And a pretty girl to sing it,” chuckled Aurelius.

  “But of course, Praefect,” said Casca. “Is there any other choice?”

  “Not to my knowledge,” agreed Aurelius.

  “I hope the drones are getting good images from this battle,” said Casca, turning to look at the gathering horde of the enemy that surrounded them. “This will be one for the history books.”

  “Indeed,” replied Aurelius.

  “What is the plan, Praefect?” asked Casca, still staring out at the enemy.

  “The timing on this must be perfect,” said Aurelius.

  “It shall be,” replied Casca, glancing at Aurelius.

  “Then prepare your Centurions,” said Aurelius. “On my command, prepare to change formations. There must be no hesitation.”

  “It shall be done, Praefect,” said Casca.

  “Good,” whispered Aurelius. “Stand by for the command.”

  Casca switched to the sub-tactical channel and began relaying commands throughout the network to all the other Centurions. Although he wasn’t certain what the Praefect had planned, he was experienced enough to know that it was going to be difficult. Aurelius was a brilliant tactician and Casca knew that whatever he had planned, however dangerous, was going to work. He had complete faith in the young Praefect.

  “Aurelius to Agamemnon,” said Aurelius, switching to the command frequency.

  “Agamemnon control,” replied a cool voice. “Go ahead.”

  “Pat
ch me through to Centurion Gratiana,” he said.

  There was only a second’s pause before the voice of his beloved came like music into his ears. Despite the gravity of the situation, he couldn’t help but smile when he saw her face on the heads-up display screen.

  “Gratiana,” she said, trying to remain professional.

  “Cassia,” he said, feeling a lump in his throat just saying her name, “On my command, I want the fighters to come in directly on our position.”

  “What?” she said, clearly shocked. “You’ll be killed.”

  “I have no intention of dying this day,” he assured her. “I have a plan. Tell the pilots to concentrate their fire on the creatures that surround our position. I want sixty seconds of continued fire, and then the fighters need to clear the area.”

  “Firing that close will be catastrophic to you and your men,” replied Cassia. “Your armor cannot withstand that kind of assault.”

  “Leave that to me,” replied Aurelius.

  “Are you certain?” she asked, her voice almost pleading with him.

  Cassia knew that if Aurelius was wrong, then the sustained fire from the heavy cannons on the fighters would obliterate anything or anyone in the area. If he was wrong, then she was about to give the order that would kill the man she loved.

  “I’m certain,” he replied. “Trust me. The Iron Legion will not fall this day.”

  Cassia locked eyes with his for a long moment before nodding.

  “I’ll give the order,” she said, frowning.

  “Begin their run in exactly thirty seconds,” said Aurelius, smiling softly.

  Breaking the channel, Aurelius returned to the battle that was at hand. He knew that if he continued to talk to her, then his resolve might weaken. His plan was dangerous in the extreme. If their timing was off by even a fraction of a second, then everything would be lost. He would have to trust in the supreme discipline of his legion and the absolute accuracy of the fighters. He trusted his friend Flavianus with his life. The fighters would be on target and on time.

  The heads-up display began to count down from thirty and Aurelius could see the fighters were already forming up to begin their attack run. He could feel the eyes of Casca staring at him. The fate of the legion would depend on his orders. He held his breath and watched the sky as the fighters banked into formation. The timer was flashing down and had now reached ten seconds.

  “Fratres!” called Aurelius. “Ad testudinem[2]!”

  Instantly, the legion reacted to his command. The front ranks began folding in on themselves as every other soldier took a step back and raised his shield over his head. The next rank proceeded to do the exact same thing as the field began to grow. In seconds, they had formed a much smaller circle and the energy of the shields formed a dome over the formation. Even Aurelius and Casca added their shields to the formation.

  No sooner had the Testudo formed when the fighters began their attack run on the still-confused creatures. Powerful energy cannons blasted into the horde of creatures, sending pieces of earth and parts of bodies flying into the air in the wake of the massive explosions. The ground beneath their feet shook from the fury of the attack.

  “Hold formation!” screamed Aurelius. “Hold the line!”

  Aurelius watched the display as wave after wave of fighters brought fiery death and destruction down on their foes. The earth shook beneath their boots, but the Iron Legion held their ground. Not one formation dropped the Testudo. The heads-up display scrolled down from one minute in what felt like an eternity of bombardment. Without the audio dampening filters, every man in the legion would now be deaf from the sheer volume of the explosions. Despite the dampening of the sound, they could all feel the power of the blasts in their bones.

  “Ciringite frontem![3]” bellowed Casca.

  Although each blast felt closer than the previous wave, the legion held their position. Aurelius could only smile at the discipline of his beloved legion.

  “On my command,” called Aurelius over the command network, “drop the Testudo.”

  Indicator lights flashed on the display, showing acknowledgement by the individual cohorts. The legion was ready. Just as the display reached zero, the last of the fighters banked away and climbed high into the night sky. Just as requested, they were quickly clearing out of the area.

  “Cuneum formate[4]!” called Aurelius.

  Each of the Testudo formations on the screen consisted of four cohorts. When the formation dropped, each cohort broke off and formed into a wedge formation. The wedges lined up with the points facing outward like the points of a compass.

  Aurelius began frantically adding battle formation sequences into the computer so that every legionnaire would know exactly what he was planning. It took him only moments to quickly sketch the battle plans and the Centurions began indicating that the plan was understood, and they were ready to implement.

  “Ad dextram, depone[5]!” shouted Aurelius. “Ad senestram, depone[6]!”

  Instantly, the legions reacted to the command. The rear and right flanks began to march in sequence, shields remaining locked. The left flank began wheeling around the other direction until all four cohorts were in a direct line, facing the now decimated ranks of the scorpion-like beings. Once more, the crackle of energy cascaded along the line as all the generators synched back into one field.

  Once the line was formed, Aurelius held his command for a few seconds. This served two purposes. It gave all the different cohorts on his heads-up display time to fall into formation. The second was pure psychological. The scorpion-men were standing still and watching in shock at the supreme discipline of the legion.

  “Let them marvel,” thought Aurelius. “This legion knows no equal on the battlefield.”

  Glancing to his left, Aurelius looked into the visor of Casca. The grim smile and nod of approval indicated that the older warrior approved of the tactic. That one bit or recognition meant more to Aurelius than nearly anything. There were few living warriors with more battle experience than Casca. There were none living whose opinion meant more to Aurelius than the grizzled old veteran Centurion.

  “Parati[7]!,” called Aurelius.

  Aurelius turned and nodded to Casca. He would give the honor of the final command to him. Casca returned the nod and brought his Gladius up and thrust the tip into the air.

  “Oppugnare[8]!” roared Casca into the COMM channel.

  For the second time this day, Aurelius felt the low growl of the Barritus building in his chest. Although this time, when it burst forth from his throat, it wasn’t the lone cry of one legionnaire calling forth his fury to battle. It was the crescendo of thousands of legionnaires calling upon the spirits of generations of warriors who wore the standard of the Legio MMXIV Ferrata and bore it into battle. It was the resounding cry of Mars, the God of War himself, and it sent panic into the scorpion-men.

  The legion surged forward as one, never breaking ranks and never slowing down. They smashed through the ragged lines of the creatures with the relentlessness of a juggernaut. The wedge formations broke holes in the lines, and the angled sides drove scores of the creatures into the meat-grinder. Soon the field was slick with the blood of the fallen as the legion cut a swath of destruction through the heart of the enemy’s ranks.

  When they fought clear of the adversary, Aurelius gave the command to reverse direction and the legion went back through. The remaining creatures broke and ran, dropping weapons and leaving the wounded behind to fend for themselves. The continued roar of the Barritus sped them on their way. Few looked back and fewer still slowed down until they were well away from the field of battle. The might of the indigenous army was broken. The rest would be mopping up and containment. Although there would still be work to do, the real battle was over.

  The fleet controlled the skies and the legion controlled the ground. The battle for Haakon Prime was over. The harvesting was about to begin.

  “Victoria!” called Aurelius. “Ad Legio Ferrata victoria
![9]”

  The roar of the legion resonated through the COMM channel. It echoed through the armor and the shields, too; unquestionable through the hearts of the entire legion. Aurelius had turned a near defeat into a victory for the history books. It had been centuries since the legion won a battle with shield and sword. The Iron Legion would be legendary, their glory eternal.

  “Amat victoria curam!” shouted the legion. “Amat victoria curam!”

  Chapter V

  Consequences

  “Never was anything great achieved without danger.”

  -Niccolo Machiavelli

  Cheers rose on the bridge of the Agamemnon. No one noticed the weight that was lifted from the shoulders of Cassia, nor did they notice the tears at the corners of her eyes. Sure, they were tears for all the men and women in danger on the planet below, but mostly, they were for Aurelius. They were joyful tears. They had somehow survived what everyone thought was going to be a devastating defeat. Not only had they survived, but by some means turned it into an unbelievable victory.

  “Victoria!” called the bridge crew. “Ave Legio Ferrata[10]!”

  “Ave Marcus Gaius Aurelius,” whispered Cassia.

  A shrill beeping could be heard over the cheers on the bridge. One crewman began checking his control board. Suddenly, he looked up sharply at Cassia.

  “Centurion,” called the young officer. “Incoming message from Fabretti Control.”

  “On main screen,” snapped Cassia, silencing the bridge crew with a curt wave of her hand.

  Instantly, the view of the planet was replaced with an officious looking office and an even less friendly looking official seated behind a large wooden desk. It appeared to be made of real wood, which is almost impossible to find. Clearly, this person was much higher in status than the last person that they had spoken with from Fabretti Control.