Black Legion: 03 - Warlords of Cunaxa by Michael G. Thomas Page A

I have already spoken with him and the other Satraps. I think you are about to learn your part in the defence of Cunaxa and the end of Cyrus and hit pitiful little band.”
    The Dukas looked into the eyes of the Median Lord, but all he could see were the cold, pitiless eyes of a Satrap. He felt a very real chill through his body and the news that very soon he could be facing the most respected Terran commander in living memory, and his old enemy, Strategos Clearchus.
    So, my old friend, soon we shall meet, and this time it will be Laconian blood spilt.

    * * *

    Thessalian Titan ‘Poseidon’, Gates of Media
    Dukas Meno, the commander of the Thessalian contingent of the Legion watched from his command deck deep inside the Titan Poseidon. This mighty ship had been built with the combined effort of every shipyard his homeworld had to offer. It had been a monumental effort to build her and therefore even more incredible that Clearchus and Cyrus had been able to procure her services. The warship wasn’t designed just to be able to fight in the line of battle or even to transport legions of soldiers. A Titan was the very soul of a colony with the architectural style, technology and equipment directly reflecting its home colonies and planets.
    Dukas Meno was very different to the other Dukas and Komes in the Legion. Unlike them, he’d spent most of his adult life as a mercenary. He had never served in the military but he had fought for a dozen commanders on a dozen worlds, and knew how to fight on land and in space. He had links to many important figures in the Thessalian Territories, and it was him that had enabled Clearchus to enlist the services of the warship. He looked the part of a mercenary commander with a rugged complexion, muscled body and a badly burned face on the one side. Most assumed it had been from battle, but very few knew the truth about his injuries. He’d led a mercenary contingent on behalf of Attica in the last stages of the war between Attica and Laconia. After a number of minor victories, he’d been sent on a suicide mission on the final day of the war to attack an undefended Laconian starbase. He had refused to fight and it was that decision that had made him something of a celebrity following the war. Most assumed he’d refused because of some kind of humanitarian spirit while others thought it was to save his own warriors from a pointless last mission in a lost war. Only his closest commanders knew the truth, and that there was no profit to be gained in terms of wealth, honour or casualties by attacking in the last day of a war. He might have been rich but that never seemed to improve his mood. It was rumoured that not one Terran had ever seen him smile. Another rumour said that he was one of the richest, if not the richest Terran.
    Olympia, a beautiful ship. How did that old fool lose such a prize? He wondered.
    Poseidon was an impressive ship and carried thousand of crew as well as fighting contingents of the Dukas, plus the warriors of Sosis the Syracusan and the survivors of Dukas Xenias’ forces from the Titan Olympia. There was a small force of native Navy crew, apparently part of the agreement for the use of the ship, but he had already moved most of them to less important tasks. There were few he trusted, and those in the pay of the state were not at the top of his loyalty list. As was customary on a Titan, the commanding Dukas stood in the centre with all other officers in their positions to follow his orders. There were slightly fewer officers in this ship compared to the others. This was mainly due to the technological improvements made to the ship by the Dukas over the course of their trip. Poseidon also had access to the largest contingent of engineers. The increased automation, power system improvements and modified weapons had made her into potentially the most powerful of the three remaining Titans. He looked at the view around the ship and shook his head.
    Stood next to him was