Chapter 6

Well I finally got this one done. A bit shorter than the rest, but it's important nonetheless. If you've been waiting, awesome. So read it, comment, and give me some feedback.

Chapter 6

He was not sure why he had gone there, if only to turn right around and leave. It would have saved time if he had simply gone with his two friends to begin with. No difference had been made. His former subordinates would be just as dead had he not come. The Empire would be as unrelenting whether he had chosen to accompany his comrades to the docks. So why had he set out in the first place? Nostalgia? Some part of him still wanting to die in vain, defending his brothers-in-arms?

Cassius's hand felt the letter inside his coat. That was why he had set out. He needed a copy of what was inside. He needed to make sure that the Empire was winning the attack, so that none of his fellow soldiers in the Republican Guard had the chance to read the contents of the papers. Cassius could tell, from his encounter earlier, that everyone from Optio and up would have the letter. The Guard was well trained so several of the thousands with the letters would be killed. It would be simple for a surviving Guardsman to loot a corpse and find the letter. So Cassius had to be sure that no one would see it. Only he, out of the remnants of the Republic should see what was on it. After all, it involved him.

The rain had ceased it drizzle so the sky had turned from rainy, depressing, and cloudy to simply depressing and cloudy. It was noticeably darker than the morning, although Cassius still had to check his pocket watch to tell that it was approaching midnight. No stars, no streetlights, and no windows bright with the light of their occupants would light the streets tonight. He would be forced to make his way to the docks in almost total darkness. No matter, Cassius could deal with it. He took out a small lighter, light a cigarette, and then used the lighter to help guide his way.

The shelling had ceased a while before the rain so no new craters had formed. Although the carnage was recent, Cassius felt as if he had always known his country in this state. A destroyed wasteland, destined for failure. The pitch black dirt seemed to call to him, reminding him of the failures he had supported, the men he had believed in now dead. Cassius could simply lay down in that dirt, letting his troubles slip by. No one was forcing him to stay. No one forced him to live by this code. Only his family's honor and the curse of his ancestor kept him from following his own path. Vengeance must be wrought.

Sighing, Cassius continued along the road, gazing at where his favorite stars would be. He pictured, in his mind, where the planets would be too. How glorious would it be to sail through the sky, landing on Mars. To be in the realm of the God of War, fighting for something true: war itself. With a war for the sake of war, he'd know what he was doing. There would be no subtle meanings, political scheming, or territorial disputes. He would fight for the sake of fighting, and die for the sake of it too. It would be a heaven worth going to.

He decided to run then. As invincible as they claimed to be, the Republican Guard could not outlast an everlasting tide of the world's finest soldiers. No cries of, “One Guardsman for every one thousand Imperial Pigs!” would turn the course of the battle. Calling it a battle was even a stretch. Massacre, slaughter, butchering, and other words such as these sprang to the troubled mind of Cassius. He had partaken in such events before; he would not lie to himself about that. Yet when he had done it, he was the one butchering. He was the one cutting down ill-equipped Carthaginians, or mowing down mounted Mongols with a machine gun. Never had he thought to be on the losing side.

The night was warm and humid like every night in the Mediterranean. He wished, just for a moment, to have a cold night like back home. Not home in the Empire; that was never a home. But back home in the Tribal Nations, back in the Briton Isles. There he could share a warm cup with his old hunting friends. He could swap war stories, talk about scars, and be a human being. Not a political soldier for one Rome or the other.

These thoughts kept in his mind until the minutes turned to an hour, and the broken road turned into a dock. He walked along the wooden structure, wondering how such a flimsy construct could manage the force of a dreadnaught? Irrelevant, of course, but he wondered. His thoughts always turned to metaphors. How could the Republic have thought that it could resist the Empire? Even as he called up to the deck, yards above his head, these thought pounded his brain. Luckily, when the net was thrown over the side and be began to climb, his thoughts turned to something else.

He would finally be leaving the failed nation and sailing off with his friends. Valencia had a small, private crew for the flagship. Instead of thousands of slightly experienced workers running around with solo tasks, she had spent her entire career in the New Republican Navy gathering the best sailors in the nation. The result would be just under nine hundred salted men and women. The men had the joy of the more technical jobs (fixing leaks, repairing broken machinery) while the women enjoyed cooking and cleaning. Both genders, though, worked the sailing of the ship. Both could be found in the massive engine room, shoveling coal. Men worked alongside women in reading the gauges and navigating the behemoth at sea.

When he slipped over the side wall, he was immediately picked up and almost crushed. Two massive arms in crimson were hugging him, it seemed. A few moments after the breath had left his body entirely, he was released. Cassius leaned with one arm against the siding, chest heaving and face panting. He could not help but laugh though. A rare, but genuine, occurrence.

“Damn Cali, don't do that. I just ran here straight from the capitol. Please don't do what the Empire dreams of and finally kill off this sod.”

“Sorry lad. It's just that it has been such a hectic day. I can barely recall what I did to get here. I remember a lot of wine, and some argument about bees. I do hope I won.”

The deck lit up and Cassius could see he was part of a group of five, not three. His heaving bulk of a friend Caligula stood to his right, wearing a freshly pressed jacket and trouser combination. A little ways in front stood his companion Valencia, covered in dust, balancing on a crutch, and still damp from the rain. All he saw was her smile.

“Vale, you look terrible.”

“Oh, you're too kind. Melting the hearts of women like always. Nice to see you in one piece. This mouse is Optio Dante.”

Cassius glanced over to the short man glancing shyly at his feet. He looked dirty as well, but Cassius could tell that his uniform was usually shined and ironed daily. The small spectacles resting upon his nose helped him to see why he was a mouse. Timid, shy, and seemingly intelligent. He hoped it was more than seeming.

The other man walked over from where he was chatting with a couple of engineers. Lighting a fresh cigarette, he gave a lazy salute.

“Howdy, Legate. Nice to see you again. Nice to see you don't have any extra holes either, hah!”

Smiling, Cassius did not return the salute. Instead, he grasped the man's hand and shook it.

“Augustus! Old dog still kicking? Why the hell can't you ever die? Aztecs, Mongols, Carthaginians and now Romans. I'm starting to think you're invincible. Glad to have you and the Optio. Might make this voyage a bit tolerable.”

Placing one arm around Augustus's shoulders and the other around Caligula's, Cassius directed them towards the command center towards the middle of the ship. Their quarters would be inside the massive tower, and Cassius had a large desire to catch up with his friends and get some sleep. Valencia's men knew that the only way to sail was west towards the straight of Gibraltar, so for a few days he need not worry about where to go. He would tell his comrades later. For now, he could be happy without fighting. No reasons to spoil the moment.

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The midday sun beat down on the three bodies standing on the shore. The corpse of the war elephant sat only a few yards away, but vermin and buzzards paid no heed as they feasted. The girl sat with her feet in the water, boots lying carelessly to her right. The waves slowly washed, and then dirtied again, her bare feet. The big man stood behind her, facing not the ocean but the crumbling walls of Dakar. In his hands he held a small, dark tan device. He held it to his mouth as he pressed a button on the side, causing it to give a crackling noise.

“Decurion to away party. Decurion to away. Make report, over.”

A few seconds passed without a response. The only noise coming from the waves and the feasting beasts. After a few more minutes, the device crackled again.

“Away party to Decurion. Away to Decurion. Reporting. Recon group wiped out. Ran into elephant patrol. Repeat, recon wiped out. No survivors. Three army KIA in brief skirmish with foot patrol. Repeat, three army KIA, foot patrol. The scientist, and we two remaining officers have made contact with the defenders. Repeat, remaining made contact with defenders. Standing by for orders, over.”

Caligula gave a grunt and dropped the hand holding the device to his thigh. He placed his other hand behind his back, and began pacing. His boots left large footprints in the sand, just out of reach from the water splashing to shore. He did not speak, did not murmur, and did not acknowledge the second man when he approached.

The third body, who was Cassius, had been back in the landing craft. He had finished taking out the ammunition and supplies, and packed them into three backpacks. Each pack weighed around fifty pounds and each were filled with enough food, water, and bullets to last three days. It would take only an hour or so to reach the defenders, if they went unhindered. Yet once they arrived, it was doubtful that they would leave so easily, or that the soldiers would have enough food to spare for a total of six more mouths. Cassius was many things, and ready was one.

“Decurion, sir. The bags are ready, and it's getting hot on the beach. Course of action, sir?”

Caligula did not notice Cassius until he turned face in his pacing. He rubbed his chin and tapped the device on his thigh.

“Action...action...action...” Caligula muttered, to no one in particular. “Of course we need action. War is action. Why else would we have it? So boring and dull, the politics.”

At that last thought, he snapped up and looked at Cassius and Valencia, who was now standing behind Cassius. He folded his hands together behind his back and walked sharply to the pair.

“Optio Cassius, how old are you?”

The man snapped a quick salute and replied, “Twenty years, sir.”

“Right. You joined up after that incident in the Saxon territory, correct?”

Cassius looked a little uneasy at that, for a moment. Valencia had moved away from the soldiers, so she could see his face. A flash of pain, mixed with regret? She could not tell the man's emotions very well. After all, she didn't know him yet, and she was quite scared of him.

“Aye sir. I was given a commendation by the Legate, and since my family is Roman, technically, work was made to allow me in.”

Caligula rubbed his face some more, and looked off in the distance.

“Yeah, yeah. Publicity mostly. 'The Benevolent Emperor Sevarius'. 'He Who Redeems the Banished.' Sure, you've proved yourself over and over. But no one knew that then. All they knew was that you saved my life from some rabid beast, and that was the best way to save face. Anyway, I have a course of action.”

Valencia could see more clearly the shock on Cassius's face. Clearly he did not expect such harsh words from the man he, apparently, saved. Sweat dripped past his wide eyes, swarming together at the edge of his chin. When the drops hit the dusty sand, they faded to nothing in an instant. No matter how large the drop, or the speed of which it hit the ground; they all vanished as soon as they made contact. It gave Valencia a sense of hopelessness as vast as the beach and the bodies.

Snapping back to herself, she asked, “Um...Decurion Caligula, sir? What, uh, action is it you have, sir?” She stuttered and tripped over her words like the child she felt like. Asking a Decurion (and such a magnificent one!) directly what his plans were felt like madness to her. Valencia felt as if he would unleash such harsh, blunt words onto her like he did to Cassius. She braced for impact and winced.

“My dear, calm yourself. If you are ever captured, you'll have no chance of hiding your pain. Practice, Miss Valencia. But listen to me, first. Our few remaining men are inside. This is good. But it is grand that the scientist fellow made it with his case. So we must make absolute haste into the city, and contact him personally.”

His smooth voice and demeanor were unexpected. This might have been the first time he surprised her with a mood swing, but not the last. Their future was tied and tangled with irrational behavior and words. She would learn to react accordingly, in time. For now though, Valencia was as confused and puzzled as she had been all day.

“Why didn't we just go with the scientist, sir? We'd be there right now!”

Caligula chuckled and walked next to her. He towered over her small frame as a giant. She didn't see him as a terrible giant, unlike the elephant. More of a gentle one to his friends, but harsh to their foes. He placed a finger under her chin and lifted her face. Looking her in the eye he said, “I had some business out here to do. It was also expected for them to die. Sure, that would have messed up our plan but they knew the risks. Losing Dakar is worth losing a few thousand or so men over. Hell, we've already lost hundreds of thousands by now. The main landing force must have made contact. So now that I'm back from my business, we can continue. Cassius will continue to do his job, guarding you. Or me. I'm not sure of his entire orders.”

So with that, the trio began their first real adventure together. Across the smoldering, rotting beach of Dakar they marched. The city remains were situated half a mile away, dotted with patrols of the besiegers and their siege lines. It would be perilous, dangerous, and all together an unpleasant journey. They would grow on each other though, and save them from the Carthaginians and themselves.

Author's Note

If you've read this one, but not the rest of the book, go now. Read the rest. And give me criticism. Also if you can draw concept art well, I'd love some work done for the cover of Cassius. I'm a freeloader so I won't pay you. Unless you want pretty words. I have those.