There was little the United States administration could protest about given Star Wars, so the entire matter was kept classified. When the Cold War ended, the rockets were still up there along with their warheads and it became the thing no one talked about among those in the know. The danger of bringing the warheads back to Earth was considered too great, so that section of Mir was sealed off. The United States invested considerable time and money into making sure Mir stayed operational and in orbit while the Russian Space Agency deteriorated and was unable to provide the maintenance required.
Mir’s current crew consisted of three Russians and one American. Upon receipt of a highly classified and secure communication from Moscow, the senior Russian had the American locked in a storage area and then the three began unsealing the missile compartment.
Three hundred and fifty-five kilometers below the space station, lay the blue of the Pacific Ocean with the western coast of South America rotating into view.
CHAPTER 10
Leonidas entered his home to be greeted with the site of Cyra holding his daughter on her lap, bouncing the squealing girl up and down. His mind was swirling with all the preparations to be made for the march-out in the morning and for a moment he was taken aback at this strange site.
“Husband.” A hand was on the small of his back, just below where the armor ended.
Leonidas turned. His wife, Thetis, stood in the shadows of the entryway. Her hair was pinned up and she wore a white robe fringed with gold, a gift he had brought her from the sack of a neighboring town many years previously. He recognized it for more than that though — it was what she wore the night their son Amphion had been conceived. Or had been wearing, he realized as a flush spread across his tanned cheeks. Her hand was still on his back and he glanced at Cyra in embarrassment but the priestess was focused on Briseis.
Leonidas took her hand in his, removing it from his back. “Wife,” he acknowledged. He could see the smile on her face and the sadness in her eyes. Word of the assembly’s decision and the morning muster would have made it here, even though he had left the assembly and headed straight home. It was the way it always was and Leonidas had never figured out how the women knew such things as quickly as they did.
“Xarxon has prepared your equipment for travel.” Leonidas had not had time to tell his squire to get things ready, so he was grateful for his wife’s intervention.
“Greeting, King.” Cyra had finally acknowledged his presence. She stood, holding Briseis in her arms.
“Priestess.” Leonidas felt uncomfortable. He suddenly realized that if the Oracle’s prophecy were true, tonight would be his last with Thetis. He turned to her. “We march in the morning.”
“I know.” Thetis was a slight woman, her hair prematurely gray as befit one who had waited out so many campaigns. She reached down and picked up a wicker basket that Leonidas had not noticed. “I want to go up the mountain. To our meadow.”
Leonidas frowned. “It is late and—“
“I know it is late.” There was a sharp edge to Thetis’s voice. “Cyra will watch Briseis. Amphion is at his agoge and will see you in the morning on the field. Tonight, I want you to myself. Under the stars. On the mountain.” Her hands were on the clasps that held his armor, unfastening it.
Leonidas looked at Cyra and the priestess gave the slightest of nods and for some strange reason he stood still and allowed Thetis to remove the metal from his body until he was clad only in his short tunic.
“King?” Cyra seemed reluctant to interject herself between husband and wife.
“Yes?”
“What was the decision of the council?”
“We march on Antirhon to secure our west, then to Thermopylae.”
Cyra put Briseis down in her cradle. “How long will this campaign against Antirhon take?”
“That is something no one can predict.”
“How far away is this city?”
When Leonidas told her, Cyra shook her head. “There is not time. Xerxes is marching quickly. He has already crossed the Hellesponte. He will reach the Gates and be through them before you arrive.”
“We are sending three hundred troops directly to the Gates of Fire to prepare the defenses and hold the pass.”
“Three hundred? What can three hundred men do?”
“Three hundred Spartans,” Leonidas corrected her. He held up a weary hand as Cyra started to say something. “We may indeed be too late, but the council has spoken and it is law. I must obey.”
Thetis took his raised hand and led him to the door. “We will be back at dawn,” she called over her shoulder to Cyra as she pulled Leonidas through the door. Once outside, she continued to lead the way, heading toward the mountainside where they had spent the first night of their marriage so many years previously.
Cyra stood in the doorway, watching the couple disappear into the darkness.
King Xerxes looked down from the mountain at the glow of lights ahead. It was a small town, the eastern-most outpost of Macedonia, a kingdom that was in search of an identity. North of Greece proper, Macedonia was the invasion route for both the Persians from the east and the barbarians to the north. He thought so little of the small kingdom that Xerxes had not even bothered to send emissaries to the Macedonians to smooth his passage through this land.
“My Lord?” The commander of the Immortals waited for his orders.
“Destroy the town. Kill everyone.”
A female voice cut in. “That is not wise, King.”
Xerxes was tired. The army was marching hard and despite all the comforts he was provided, it was taking its toll on the King’s body. “Why?” he asked wearily.
“There is no need to destroy the town, King,” Pandora said.
“There is no need,” Xerxes acknowledged, “only my desire that it be so, which supersedes need.”
“Yes, lord.” Pandora remained quiet, which irritated Xerxes even more.
“You have a reason beyond it isn’t necessary, don’t you?” he demanded.
“Yes, lord.”
Just as Xerxes was about to explode in anger, Pandora continued.
“Time is like the ocean. It ebbs and flows. Much like kingdoms. Today one is powerful and can destroy. In a generation the power goes the other way.”
Xerxes nodded as if he understood. “True. But today—” he jabbed his finger down at his throne—“I am the one with the power.” He turned to the commander of the Immortals. “Do as I order.”
“May I go with him, Lord?” Pandora asked which surprised Xerxes.
The King waved his hand. He could care less.
Pandora followed the commander down a slope where a battalion of the Immortals waited. She was ignored as the troops moved forward. The rest of the Persian army had halted for the night, the glow of the thousands of campfires lighting up the eastern horizon like a false dawn.
The gates to the city were open, the inhabitants clearly aware of what approached. A cluster of men stood in the open gates, waiting. As the Immortals approached they held their hands up and called out entreaties. Pandora began moving her way up in the column of troops. There were screams as the Immortals cut down the men.
Belatedly the soldiers in the town jumped into action. They tried to shut the gates, but it was too late. The Immortals surged through, overpowering the defense. Men, women, children and animals were cut down wherever they were found. Pandora stepped over bodies, pushing her way toward the vanguard of the Immortals. She saw merchants, hands full of offered gold, have their heads lopped off.
Unerringly Pandora stalked through the streets. Immortals continued to ignore her, knowing her as the right hand of the King. Of course, none of them seemed concerned about her safety either.