The Guardians of Sol Read online

  “Hold!” Telamon ordered, and slammed a fist on his desk for emphasis. The intruder immediately dropped his hands to his side, even going so far as to turn off his active camouflage. Eric took a few more moments before he stood down, though he was still wary of the other man.

  “Take off your helmet, Barak.” The old man commanded. “And learn to knock. My son-in-law, Eric, could have killed you just now.” Barak raised an eyebrow, for indeed, he was a very dangerous man himself and not accustomed to anyone else being much of a threat. Telamon smiled. “May I introduce you to Major Eric Reynolds, Vindicator , and Swordmaster of the First Tier.”

  “Oh, yes, Reynolds… I’ve heard about you,” Barak said. “Promising career, then you took a teaching job. Very odd if you ask me.”

  “I have my reasons. And who hasn’t heard of the Sentinel’s Hound?” Eric retorted. “You only made it to the Fourth Tier of Swordmaster training, didn’t you?” Barak made a face, not quite a sneer, but definitely not friendly. They all knew that Barak was closer to the second or even first tier.

  Telamon cut in before the two young men came to blows again. “Alright Barak, why are you here? I know you don’t make social calls so what did Michael send you to me for?”

  “Just came off an intelligence mission over in Hungary. Uther has an army gathering there before they move on down to Greece. From there, I’m sure only Uther really knows. But uh… one of his advisors seems to have misplaced a few files into my care.” Barak grinned and pulled a data crystal from his gauntlet. “I’ve already sent a copy to the Sentinel. He said that since these will concern your defense of Greece I should give them to you.”

  Telamon took the crystal and eyed it. “Thank you; this information will be put to good use. Have you eaten yet? I’d be a poor host if I didn’t offer you a meal.”

  “I have to be in Athens in a few hours if I’m going to make my shuttle… but I haven’t had a decent meal since before this last mission. Thank you for your hospitality, Sir.”

  “No problem.” He hit a button on the wall panel and a servant came in. “Take Commander Simeon to the kitchen and make sure he gets his fill. Barak, I still have a few things to talk to Eric about. We will speak later.”

  *****

  Three days later, Telamon stormed out of the Acropolis, Eric trailing behind him struggling to keep the dismay and the urge to laugh that were warring in him from showing on his face. “I can’t believe you broke his jaw! Well, okay, I can because you’re you… but still!”

  “That Sheep-Shagging Twit insulted my daughter! Insulted your wife! Insulted you! I can’t believe you weren’t the one to break his jaw!” the older man yelled over his shoulder. They rounded a corner, coming into sight of their puddlejumper, a short range personal air transport produced by the business.

  “I’m a Swordmaster and a philosopher; I’ve long since gone beyond the need for retribution because of words. Now, if the moron had actually hurt Faye in anyway, he would even now be dying slowly and painfully.” He put a hand on Telamon’s shoulder to stop him for a moment, “Are you still going to take command of the Larissa defense?”

  “Yes, I’m still going to command it. But if Leon assigns that… that… if I have to ever see that pissant of a general again he will die. And then Leon will get maimed.”

  “Jolly good and all that. Don’t forget to look over the geography and consider tactics. I’ll be – Telamon, calm down damn it! – I’ll be looking over the same things so I can help you with strategy and tactics, but you’re still the general and you have to keep a cool head. You’re the only one who can lead, Tel. And keep in mind that we’re only going to have about three-thousand men for the job.”

  Telamon finally took a deep breath. “Alright, I’ll focus.” He smiled. “You impudent pup.” He sat down and started the jumper. “Let’s go enjoy what few days we have with the family, shall we, son?”

  *****

  Two weeks later, with most of Larissa evacuated, Telamon had set up listening posts around the city, with the majority of them concentrated to the north of Larissa. For two weeks he had kept the men busy cleaning equipment, digging ditches, and building walls. During that time, Eric had worked himself overtime coming up with a sound defensive strategy, and almost beating Telamon bloody several times when the man wouldn’t listen to common sense. It wasn't that Telamon lacked strategic or tactical sensibilities; it was just that he hated defensive battles and had so little regard for his current enemies.

  Overcoming his father-in-law’s insistence to ‘meet the enemy head-on,’ Eric had gotten the walls and ditches dug across the best northerly routes into Larissa, rubble strewn across any open ground to make vehicles impossible to drive on it. Metal spikes hidden in covered holes. Even a few surprises like auto-gun emplacements in the canyon walls and floor. Most of it was make-work to keep the men busy, but it was truly amazing what could be done in such a short time with a few thousand men in power armor.

  Telamon and Eric were pouring over maps and technical readouts when a harried looking Venator ran into the command post, inside the town hall. After identifying the two men, he rushed over, placed a data crystal in their hands and went back out without so much as a word of greeting.

  The old Spartan pushed the crystal into the receptacle of his data pad. Images and maps fluttered in procession before finally setting on an encrypted message that, once decoded, bore the date from two days past. He frowned as he processed the information. Eric knew that face, knew it as well as if it were his own father’s. That is, before his father had died defending civilians in one of the many skirmishes constantly taking place around the world.

  Telamon finally looked Eric in the face, “We have two days to finish getting ready. It would seem that Uther’s going to hit all of our defensive positions instead of just one or two like we had thought.” He started changing into a more functional uniform as he spoke. “Get the unit commanders together; we have some last surprises to set up for them.”

  *****

  First contact came before the sun had even risen. The enemy gave no warning, and received none, sneaking in through the routes Eric had projected. The scouts were quickly captured or dispatched by sentries on the mountainous walls overlooking the roads. Telamon sent out a troop of Sciritai rangers to double-check the disposition and location of the enemy while the scouts were interrogated.

  Unfortunately the... gentle touch... of the Spartan interrogators were so far getting nothing out of the captives, and it was all Eric could do to keep them from killing the helpless men. It wasn't that the Spartans were barbarous as such, more like they were congenitally short-tempered and impatient. Only age seemed to mellow these traits somewhat, but as with Telamon, age didn't always help that much.

  About half an hour before dawn, the Sciritai began reporting back in, and the captain of their Twenty went to Telamon, taking off his helmet as he entered the office.

  "Near as we can figure, Uther's sent perhaps a third of his army at us, say... thirty-five thousand. They have outriders but we managed to slip past them long enough to see that they set camp in a standard layout. There wasn't any slacking off that we could see, and there were sentries all within eyeshot of each other. Sir, this General doesn't seem the sort to be taking chances... this isn't going to be a walk."

  Telamon grinned as he usually did at the prospect of a good fight. "We didn't expect it to be a walk, nice as it would be to get back to the family soon. With the passes the way they are though, we should be good for a long time with how many men we have. Now, did you see any banners or crests with symbols on them? Anything else that could be important?"

  "Well, nearer the center of the camp, and this was at maximum enhancement mind you, but there were some pennants or some such thing with what my boys thought looked like a wolf's head on them. Could have been a bear."

  "Not the bear. The man is a slob. So, the boy king has sent his Wolf Knight after us... maybe this fight will be harder than I thought. I've known
Marcus for years you know, he's a good man and there's a reason he's been the Pendragon's champion for so many years," Telamon raised an eyebrow. "You have more to say?"

  "A couple of my boys had a run in with some of the Royal Assassins. We won, mind you, but you know... precautions and all that." The man began to turn away. "Oh right, they were starting to mobilize when we left so they'll probably be an hour or two after sunrise." The man grinned, "Good luck with that."

  After the Sciritai left, Eric stepped out from a side door. "Why did it have to be Marcus? It’s not just that he's one of Uther's best strategists, but... he's our-"

  "He's our friend, too. But sometimes things you don't like happen and you still have to follow through. That is just part of the crazy world we live in. Remember the first time we had him over to the manor? Never thought we could get anyone so nauseous, even after some of that stuff we got him to eat."

  "Heh, wasn't too bad in that bar fight either. Although that part of the night is still a little fuzzy for me. Why on earth were we even on that side of town in the first place?"

  "I may have been... bored and in need of a drink... But that is the past. And now we need to be prepared for anything. Now get the men out to the walls. We have a battle fight and old friends to kill."

  *****

  Two hours from the dawn, Telamon was on the front line of the defense, at the center and in full armor. Around him were Eric and the rest of his twenty from the Sentinel Guard. They were in the narrowest part of the main pass, in front of all the other defenses. It was a very imposing sight, or so the AEU messenger thought as he came within earshot of the Greek forces. Fifty across, in burnished gold. The centermost ten were slightly bigger with black helmet plumes and black plate skirts. Among them was a somewhat smaller figure in silver, and all the more intimidating for standing so confidently in the middle of all those Spartans.

  The messenger swallowed, "My lord, the King Pendragon commands you to lay down your arms! Let his army pass and you will keep your lives! Let all of Europe finally be united in a common cause!"

  Telamon turned to Eric, "Sheesh, I think somebody has been watching too many old movies. Do we have any Sciritai within range of that pompous blowhard?"

  "Actually we do... you're not going to kill the messenger are you? Because that's just bad taste, old horse."

  "Nah, just going to give him a shot across the bow, so to speak. Link the Sciritai to my HUD for a moment." He relayed what he wanted to the man before calling back to the messenger. "We stand here as free Confederate citizens and Greeks! Free men! The time of European dominance in the world is long since over! We make our own destiny now, and it’s not with the house of Pendragon!"

  On that last word, a shot from the Sciritai’s coil gun blew through one of the messenger's guards. The messenger practically squealed with terror as he got his driver to turn around and make with all due speed to the waiting host.

  "A bit overdramatic, don't you think old man?" Eric asked, exasperated. Telamon just shrugged.

  “I didn’t kill the messenger, did I?”

  Among the European forces once more, the little messenger fell over himself trying to relate Telamon's words to Marcus. Hearing them, he laughed a small sad laugh, for he expected no less from Telamon, or from any Spartan for that matter.

  Back at the line, Telamon was relaxing with his men. “So, how was my little speech?” he asked.

  Eric answered first, “It was a bit too… I don’t know… movie-ish. It didn’t seem to come out very natural. Have you been practicing that in your spare time?”

  “Yeah!” Arkadios cut in, “Why didn’t you just tell them to go to hell?”

  “He did, Arka, more or less. Between his words and having that guard killed, Telamon has pretty much forced Marcus to attack.”

  “Oh… Man, I hate politics. Fighting is so much simpler.”

  “Ha! That’s an opinion I can back, pup.” Telamon agreed. “How’s that new arm treating you?”

  “It itches from time to time,” the younger man grinned. “But it sure does have a lot more features than that old one.”

  The older man was about to say something else when off in the distance the enemy troops began moving toward the canyon highway. A rumble of so many heavy feet thrummed through the high, steep walls.

  “Your surprises are in place?” He asked Eric.

  “You know they are, Old Man. Are you thinking what I’m thinking?”

  “I’m thinking it’s about time we pulled back to the first wall.” Telamon said thoughtfully.

  “Good thinking.”

  *****

  The canyon to Larissa is nine kilometers long with four choke points. Two kilometers in, at the first choke, was a wall, three meters tall. This was where Telamon was determined to meet the enemy. But first Marcus had to get his troops past the surprises the Greeks had left for them.

  At the point where Telamon had met the emissary, automated turrets popped out of the canyon floor and walls and began spraying AEU troops with twenty milimeter long spikes of depleted uranium. Men were mowed down in their dozens despite armor until finally a few well-placed explosives destroyed the turrets. Before the enemy came to the wall, they had faced many traps, including mines and spikes; not many were killed, though a good number were injured.

  Before any assault on the wall, Marcus himself came forward to try for a peaceful resolution (in the AEU’s favor, of course) one last time before the true bloodshed, no matter how unlikely.

  “Old man! You know I have you outnumbered by more than ten to one. Do you really want to sacrifice your men in so meaningless a defiance?”

  “Marcus, you know I like you, but I have my orders, and your men are trespassing on sovereign territory. Go home, boy. You’re like a son to me, and I’d hate to have to kill you.”

  Marcus sighed, “I have my orders as well… Despite my objections, my King has ordered this war, and so I must obey. Death before dishonor, my old friend.”

  “Death before Dishonor.” Telamon returned.

  *****

  Even in war, Marcus revealed his sense of humor and his prejudices. The first wave was composed of the French special forces, modern “Musketeers.” The rounds from their powerful long rifles merely bounced off the thick shields of the defenders. The poor men never even made it to the wall to try hand to hand. More auto-guns popped out from the wall and the canyon. Those who weren’t cut down by the guns, were instead impaled by plasma tipped javelins launched from above.

  Next knights from Germany and Austria came; who fared better only in that they destroyed the auto-guns before they died. Marcus didn't order any more attacks for this first day, even though he was on a timetable put forth by his king.

  *****

  Three days, and it had been a hard fight day and night. Still, they had been pushed back to the outermost edges of Larissa. Marcus was ruthless in his duties, and the Spartan forces had faced night attacks, dawn attacks, and even attacks by long outlawed and generally ineffective autonomata weapons.

  However, they persisted. It didn't matter to the Spartans that they were outnumbered, that they were technically outgunned. It was a battle that every man felt that he had been waiting his whole life for. Even Telamon felt the energy, and couldn't resist cracking jokes about European forces.

  Despite the high moral and relatively low losses, Eric was going crazy trying to keep all the soldiers supplied. Every Spartan armor was equipped with twenty beam-tip javelins. To his dismay, even older Spartans had trouble using these wisely. He had seen more than one European become a pincushion. Additionally, power packs for plasma spears were running out at a frightening rate. Ammunition for wrist cannons had run out during the first two days. He could have sworn that he had planned better and stocked more supplies. Even worse, he couldn't get any trucks to bring in anything more. He suspected Leon's hand in this. You would think that in the middle of a war and after nearly four decades Telamon and the King could put their feud behind them. />
  Eric didn't have a high enough security clearance to know the exact details, he was only a major after all, but Leon had requisitioned all supplies to the other two battlefronts with nothing left for Telamon. Fortunately, Barak Simeon and other Venators stopped in often enough for Eric to get messages to the Sentinel arranging air drops for supplies. With the fleet currently in control of the airspace above Greece that was mercifully possible, but that could change at any time as the European fleet kept making a push. When he tried to discuss these problems with his father-in-law, the man stubbornly replied, "It doesn't matter, we can take them." Eric was not a happy man.

  *****

  "Throw them back boys!" Telamon roared. "Make them run with their tails between their legs!" Following his own advice he grabbed up a knight by throat and groin and threw the man into the milling forces below this final wall before the city.

  Another squad of knights began to jump to the top of the wall. Telamon opened up on them with his wrist cannon, hitting three before the gun finally clacked empty. The thought occurred to him that Eric had mentioned something about short supplies. Not that it mattered much at the moment. He pulled his short sword from its sheathe in his shield and slammed it into the nearest enemy.

  The sword punched through the knight’s armor as the blade glowed red slipping out just as easily as it had gone in. As an officer, Telamon was lucky enough to have a heat blade made of adamantine instead of the vibrating blade used by the lower rankers. He took a swing at the next nearest foe, who tried to block the glowing blade. Telamon’s sword sliced through its counterpart like butter, eviscerating the man behind it.

  As the space around him was clear for the moment, Arkadios grabbed Telamon’s attention, pointing to an object that had begun to glow at the far end of the canyon.