The World of The Gunny

Chapter Twenty Five

(L + 57 days)


Labienus leaned closer to the holo projector trying to make out the Legatus Augusti’s words among the static. “Say again Cincinnatus, repeat your last.” Labienus turned to the young comm officer who was running the console in his ready room. “Can you do anything to clear this up son, I need a clear communications feed.”

The Centurio fumbled some switches and looked back at the Legatus. “Best I can do Sir, between the jamming and the interference from all the weapons fire, we’re lucky anything is getting through. I can try to pull more of the voice and less of the image in.” The holo image wavered a moment and then broke up even more as the young officer manipulated his controls.

There was a high-pitched squeal and the image almost disappeared completely. Cincinnatus’s voice however rang out clearly from the speaker for the first time. There were numerous sounds of explosions in the background that occasionally drowned out his voice.

“Legatus, I hope you are hearing this. I am ordering an evacuation of all landing zones. The enemy’s weapons are too strong and there are just too many of them. They have overrun the XII Manipularii and the LV Infantry at LZ Thor and LZ Anhur is holding on by a thread. My staff calculates that our perimeter here in LZ Shi Wan Lo is going to collapse within 8 hours.”

“They begin moving to hit the beachheads as soon as we begin the landings Legatus. They are rolling over our positions even before the second wave gets on the ground. I am going to hold on to LZ Shi Wan Lo long enough to evacuate all the wounded and support troops but I can’t pull any of the combat elements off the line for evacuation or the whole perimeter will cave in. We may have to write off the northern continent until we have more troops Legatus.”

Labienus’s mouth was a pulled into grim line as he spoke to the faint holo figure. “Hold as long as you can Cincinnatus, between my report and Tribunus Curio’s, we have help coming. We have at least four Consular Armies coming; three of them are Median."

There was a huge wash of static before Cincinnatus’s voice returned. “Understo… …miral, looks like they are coming again. We will hold as long as we can. Cincinnatus out.”

The weak holo image faded away and Labienus turned to the Centurio. “Son, prep me a comm pod, I want all data from the landings as well as any information that we have from the intelligence units that are still transmitting from the southern continent loaded on it. I want the units that are coming to have the most up to date info we have. There will be a few other messages to add to it from me before it goes, so don’t launch it before I send you the ok.”

The Centurio stood up and exited the ready room. Just as the doors closed behind him he heard the Legatus’s fist hammer down on his desk. The doors sealing cut off Labienus’s words. “FUC…”

***

The First Median Incursion that invaded human space had begun a war that left the Roman Republic in a curious situation. After the Median fleets were smashed at the Battle of Lan Zhao VII, the Republic’s Fleets pushed on to secure the Leonidas chokepoint in what has come to be known as the Ten Systems Campaign. This counter offensive placed ten Median colonized systems under Roman control. Twenty-two worlds with some twenty five billion Median inhabitants that were now part of the Roman Republic.

It had been feared that a species that had been ruled for so long by a hivemind-like system of government that the Medians would be unable to adapt to the self-determination that characterized the Republic. Those fears were unfounded however.

Once the newly occupied planets had assimilated the information about the government they found themselves under, they clamored to be part of the Concilium Plebis, Plebian Council. Instances of resistance and rebellion dropped to zero after the news that they were to elect Plebian Representatives from their own people and not have rulers imposed from above. Due to the quick assimilation, and the army’s recognition of the potential the Medes represented troop wise, the first Median Plebes were voted into the Concilium Plebis only two years after the Senate granted the Mede worlds citizen status, ten years earlier than expected.

The success of the assimilation can be observed during the Second Roman-Median War several years later. Median ground troops were met and destroyed by the ‘Republican’ Medes who fought their brethren with such ferocity that the leaders of the Median Network decided that the cost would be too high to re take the ‘lost’ worlds. The Median leaders were also fearful of the ‘infection’ of the Republic’s ideals into their people and decided to pull back to the border and write off the ten worlds as hopelessly infected.

That isn’t to say that there weren’t difficulties and adaptations that needed to be made in the mixing of the two races; the dominance of the Medes in the computer and electronics fields caused friction in some quarters, as was their ability to quickly adapt and change human technologies for the better.

The filibuster was eliminated in the Plebian Council after Median Plebe Bin-402’s marathon 21 day blocking of Resolution RK9273.

Initially however, the gravest concern of the Humans of the Roman Republic about their new members was the Median ability on the battlefield.

Pat-142, commander of Consular Group North, was the first Mede to achieve the rank of Pro-Consul in the Roman Ground Forces and he was aware of the burden he carried for his people. Even after three generations of Medians having been born under the flag of the Senatus Populesque Romanus, Imperial Command still balked about putting a Mede in command of Human troops.

***

Pro-Consul Pat-142 looked at his gathered Army Commanders and Staff. There were times he wished he had an all Mede Staff so they could set up an electronic interface and discuss these things at a faster level, but he knew if he had chosen only his own kind for support, the Magister Militum, Commander of the Army, would have come down on him with both feet.

He paused a moment before activating his speaking unit. “We have received a new data feed from Nova Cartago. The initial attacks by the Manipularii and Legionarii have failed. We will have to create our own landing zones in the northern hemisphere, or land on the relatively safe southern regions still under our control and fight our way across the ocean to land on the northern continents. Input?”

Consul Fabius Belisarius, commander of the III Ala Consular Army and the most senior of his Army commanders spoke first. “Sir, being a whole ocean away from the enemy is not going to help us clear one inch of that planet. The logistics in trying to move all my men and equipment across that much ocean just to make a forced entry assault onto one of the northern continents without proper landing craft… well Sir, I just don’t feel like making some half-assed beach assault when we could land intact where we are going to fight.”

Pro-Consul Pat-142’s eyes blinked the green of assent and rotated his head to face the commander of the MXXI Mechanized Consular Army. Consul Fabius was an enigma to Pat-142, he had been wounded in battle five times and had almost as many mechanical parts as the Median troops he lead. He was known to burst into immense rages and even more intense periods of quiet. All brought on, some said, by the titanium and polymer plate covering his brain.

His troops referred to him as Crazy Fabian, but only in private burst transmissions to each other. Only the flashes of incredible brilliance he showed at precisely the correct moments kept him from being retired long ago.

Consul Fabius looked at his commander with unblinking electronic eyes. “I’m having all my boys refitted with rotary gauss cannons. All Legionarii are being outfitted with light anti-vehicle weapons packages that should crack their infantry armor well enough. All vehicles are being retrofitted with Hasta rockets. They should have enough penetration to take out their Loricas.” He stood unspeaking for a moment before realizing more was expected. “Oh, land in the north, without question. The sooner we get into combat with them, the better.”

Pat-142 looked at his two other commanders; Consul SFX-525 commander of the MXXXIII Mechanized Army and Consul TFN-869 commanding the IX Manipularii Army. Consul SFX-525, never one to waste words, sent a burst transmission indicating assent with the two previous speakers.

TFN-869, still wearing a prototype biped assault body, flexed a power claw and rumbled static that passed for laughter among the Medes. “My Manipularii will carve out a landing zone for the rest of you. I have studied the download and I have a plan to prevent the enemy from entering the LZ before we consolidate it. My troops will hold the outer lines long enough for the rest of you to land. I have pulsed files to you all outlining my plan. If you have any suggestions or special requirements, please contact me.”

Pat-142 blinked green three times in assent. “It appears we are all in agreement. I will forward a message to Legatus Labienus and tell him that we will be making a direct assault to liberate the north. Have all troops and vehicles prepared, I do not wish to be inside these thin-skinned coffins any longer than we have too. I want the whole Consular Group ready to assault any time after we enter the Nova Cartago System.” The four Consuls saluted him and left to rejoin their troops. His Staff gathered around the command board and began to sketch out the assault plan.

***

The Medians are an unusual species. While most races strive to keep their identity amid a furious race for technology, the Medes embrace making their technology part of their identity. While the other races of the galaxy look upon their bodies as the vessel of ‘self’, the Mede see their bodies as simply tools to be changed as needed for their job.

The derogatory term some Romans call the Medians is somewhat of an accurate description. ‘Brain in a jar’ is close as the internal anatomy of a Mede was almost literally that simple. The greatest part of the Median physiology was the brain, sending enormous nerves to the eyes, ears, and tactile tentacles, which the Medes use for manipulation. Besides this were the bulky lungs, into which the mouth opened, and the heart and its associated circulatory system.

This was the sum total of the Median organs. Strange as it may seem to a human being, all the complex apparatus of digestion, which makes up the bulk of our bodies, did not exist in the Medians. They were heads, merely heads. They had no entrails what so ever. They did not eat, much less digest. Instead, they took their nourishment and injected it directly into their own circulatory system to be absorbed directly from the blood. Everything else is mechanical.

For that reason, Principale FTP-975 showed no discomfort in seeing his disconnected arms lying on a tech cart. The lead tech was attaching an Mk55 Gatling Gauss to his left arm. Without looking up from her work, the tech sent a query. *What would you like on the other arm Principale? Plasma cutter, power claw, light rocket launcher or another gauss?*

The Principale pondered a moment before pulsing back, *Power claw I think, just be sure to add a few extra power packs, I have a feeling that it may get a lot of use.*

FTP-975 detected the disconnection of his light transit legs and a mobility tech pulsed a question. *What sort of movement package would you like Principale, high-speed movement legs, evasion legs, wheeled chassis or tracks?* And so on it went as the transports moved closer and closer to Nova Cartago II.

***

Sempronius’s face was pale as he approached the field where the first Contubernium was practicing and motioned for the Principale to follow him. Metellus signaled Varus to continue the bayonet training. Sempronius stopped under the shade of a tree, squatted down on his heels and the Principale followed suit.

Sempronius pulled out a small comm pad. “Just got some bad and worse news from the Tribuni, some of our Electronic Warfare techs managed to hack into one of the Siliconate satellites. They picked up a huge fleet entering the system. They were unable to decode the transmissions, but they didn’t remain in orbit very long before heading towards the Apollonian Gate passage to Nova Londinium.”

Metellus chuckled and spit a brown stream onto the ground. “So what’s the worse news?”

He tossed him the comm pad and motioned for Metellus to check the data. “Intelligence has estimated that they have landed four fresh legios. By their landing patterns, they estimate that one will land in the southern region, one will land on the far side of the planet and two are landing at the Ducorum spaceport, so we will soon have some new friends to play with. The Tribuni isn’t sure how long it will take the new units to get organized before we start taking them on, but have your men ready to move out at a moments notice.”

“The one piece of good news I have for you is that you are getting a couple of more men, Manipularii this time.”

Metellus spit against the trunk of the tree before speaking. “What makes you think that’s good news Decurio?”

He looked at him curiously. “I would have thought that you would be happy to get some real Manipularii to replace your losses.”

Metellus looked at him. “With no new replacements coming in to us, the only reason I would get Manipularii is if the unit they were a part of was so under strength and without any experienced leaders that they disbanded the unit and gave the orphans to me.” He said bleakly. “Either way, I’d be a fool not to take them, but it just makes me aware at how chewed up we all are.”

They both looked out from under the tree and watched as Optio Varus smack Magnus on the helmet for over thrusting into the straw dummy in front of him. His voice carried over to them. “No, no, no, knucklehead! If you screw up like that in combat, you are a dead man. Magnus, do that one more time and you are numero uno on my garum list!”

Sempronius looked over with concern when he heard Metellus choking. He pounded him on the back until he realized he was laughing. “What’s so funny?” He asked.

Metellus coughed and spit out the tobacco he had almost swallowed. “You would have had to have seen Varus a few months ago to understand Decurio.” He stood up, still laughing. “Lets go get those replacements Decurio, before someone else steals them for mess duty or something.”

The two moved off towards headquarters while the sound of Varus’s cadence followed them. “Guard! Thrust! Buttstroke! Buttstrike! Guard!”

***

Division Commander Blue-Tentacle-Writhing entered the Headquarters of the Siliconate Ground Forces-Nova Tarentum, flanked by its bodyguards. Staff beings and support personnel made way when they saw the Black Rod of Judgment in its fist. The guards outside the commander’s door bowed and stepped back. Forward-Ever-Onward looked up from its desk as the intruders entered its office. It was about to snarl for the guards when it saw the black rod in the fist of the interloper.

Blue-Tentacle-Writhing announced in formal tones. “Forward-Ever-Onward, you have failed your orders, for that I strip you of your third name. Forward-Ever, you have failed yourself, for that I strip you of your second name. Forward, you have failed the Assembly, for that, I strip you of your prime name.”

Blue-Tentacle-Writhing stepped up and pressed the end of the rod against the being with no name. The high-pressure hiss drove the chemicals into the nameless Siliconate. Tentacles blackened and fell limp. The host experienced a moment of awareness before he too slumped over dead.

The new commander of Ground Forces-Nova Tarentum stepped into the command center. “Apathy and cowardice have their price. The nameless thing that once lead you paid the ultimate price for failure. Any others that will not follow orders step forward now and accept judgment.”

It looked around at the assembled Staff. “I have been appointed to take over this abomination of a campaign. Now, show me the troop dispositions of the Human holdouts in the mountains so we may crush them.” It threw the black rod to one of its bodyguards. “Keep that nearby, from the look of these pathetic beings, we will need it soon enough.” It leaned forward as a holo image of the mountains began to appear.

Chapter Twenty Six


(L + 71 days)


Ever-Conquering-Planets, Commander Siliconate Forces - Nova Cartago II, reviewed the troop strength estimates of the transport fleet that had arrived in orbit two days ago. They are brave, but foolish to send more of these troops to slaughter against my divisions. Even with the numbers that they have, their soldiers are no match for ours. No matter, as long as we can hold their attention here long enough to allow reinforcements to arrive from the Assembly, then we can sweep space clear of those annoying ships and we can get back to the conquest of these meat beings.

It was checking troop dispositions and supply reports when an aide ran in clutching a message. “Commander, it has begun. Sensors report that landing craft are inbound now. It appears they are landing on this continent again.”

Ever-Conquering-Planets’ face took on a puzzled expression. “Against all of our predictions, they chose to strike the areas we have defeated them once already. They learn slowly these Humans. Well their arrogance will be their undoing. Order all divisions to full alert; each division will prepare to send seven of its nine regiments to strike the landing zones wherever they are. They are foolish to think that sheer numbers will win this battle for them; they merely provide us more fit hosts when they inevitably surrender.” The Commander turned to the planetary map display on the wall behind its desk. “Their landing zones will become graveyards that will serve an object lesson for future generations. They will learn the price of their foolishness!”

***

The smell of hydraulic fluid, fresh paint and ozone in the troop compartment was nearly overwhelming to the human crew of the troop transport ‘Sea of Heracles’ as the ship entered the outer atmosphere of Nova Cartago II. The Median troops seemed immune to the odor as they performed final checks on each other. The few Humans who were needed in the bay were amazed at the actions of the Medes as they prepared for battle. Some were in almost completely shutdown as they ‘dozed’ before landing. A few were in ‘local area nets’ as they discussed last minute plans and actions. Here and there some could be seen sharpening power claws or performing final weapons checks. There were even few of the more artistic Medes touching up the Manipularii emblem on the outer bodies of their companions.

***

Iulius Bruttius, a young nauta of the ‘Sea’, passed a circle of Medes who were singing the Manipularii Corps Hymn in 8-part harmony; he shook his head as he walked away from them. Manipularii are just weird, doesn’t seem to matter what race. He had come across Human Manipularii during shore leave on several planets and they acted exactly like these whacked out Medes. The ship shuddering as it hit the thicker atmosphere nearly knocked him off his feet. A large metal claw from a nearby Mede caught him with surprising gentleness and steadied him. He looked up into a set of red eyes above a white painted sharks mouth. A slight shudder went through him as he looked into the cold metal orbs.

An unexpected level of concern showed through in the mechanical voice. “Careful there Nauta Bruttius, it would not due for you to sustain injury before you have performed your required function.”

The nauta’s eyes widened. “How did you know my name… umm…” He looked at the chassis of the Mede searching for his name and rank. “… Principale Fire/tron. I don’t think we have met before, have we?”

There was a rumble of static that was Mede laughter. “I have a download of all crewmen on this ship Nauta Bruttius, I simply matched your face with my files. It would be difficult for us to disembark if you cannot perform your function. Just try to be a little more careful in the future young man. We all have our jobs to do.” Iulius looked startled at the level of emotion showing in the metallic voice. He nodded as he turned and headed to his position.

He halted and turned back toward the powerful Median marine. “Principale, I just wanted to say… well… from all of us… good luck and… take care out there.” All the Median marines within earshot paused in their conversations and dozens of electronic eyes swiveled to face the young Human.

The Principale received several burst transmissions from the nearby troops. Some were disparaging, but others recognized the sincerity in the voice of the young sailor and Fire/tron replied for them. “We appreciate it Nauta Bruttius, we truly do, we will see you when the job is finished.”

The young man nodded and moved to the controls for the massive cargo ramps. He quickly ran his checklist and called over his shoulder. “THREE MINUTES TO LANDING.”

The ship shuddered and rocked as it approached its landing zone. The roar of the thrusters caused the deck to shake terribly and the ship felt as if it was being torn apart underneath the troops. The firing of the landing thrusters increased the g forces till it seemed an invisible hand was pressing everyone down.

The whine of the cargo bay doors lowering preceded the ship touching down hard on the surface. The Medians were already hitting the ground and spreading out through the fires lit by the ship’s retros.

Nauta Bruttius watched the Medes roll out into the first light of dawn onto the planet. He recognized the Principale that he had spoken to a moment ago rolling past and flipped him a salute. He was startled when the entire Median squad returned the salute in perfect synchronization. As he watched them roll into the smoke he reached under his shirt and pulled out a small cross.

He didn’t know what the God of the Carpenter would think of a prayer for people more machine than flesh, but he bowed his head anyway. “God, please look after them. I never believed it before today, but they have souls and I pray that you keep them safe in doing your work.” He watched the last of the Medians move into the fiery hell surrounding the ship and retracted the cargo ramp. Once it was secured, the ‘Sea’ took off to make room for the next set of ships. Nauta Bruttius didn’t stop praying until they re-entered orbit.

***

Consul TFN-869 watched his Manipularii spread out towards their assigned positions. Several track and wheeled chassis Medians rolled past him pulling small trailers loaded with mines. A feeling of satisfaction washed over him as he thought of what was going to happen to the Siliconates if they tried to just roll over his positions. He was receiving several burst transmissions a minute updating him on the status of the landings. All three LZ’s were reporting only sporadic resistance, but the overhead images he was downloading from the Classis showed the enemy closing in from numerous directions. He evaluated his options after checking the status of the follow on Mechanized legios. He was already getting reports of his cohorts and legios digging in and placing their mines as he watched the clock countdown to the first landings of the heavy units.

***

Armored Commander Grinds-To-Dust, lead scout in the vanguard of the 3rd armored regiment of the 7th division, scanned the horizon looking for the first of the enemy units. It checked the forward scans before glancing behind it to ensure that the APC’s were keeping up with its tanks. The reports it was getting from the scout tracks just ahead showed no contact with the Humans yet. The tank’s mapboard showed other units nearing the suspected outer perimeter of the landing areas. A pair of explosions from directly ahead preceded the loss of the data feed from the scouts. It keyed the throat mike. “All units spread out, infantry deploy and recon forward. Advance to contact and report all enemy encounters.”

Commander Grinds-To-Dust grounded its tank behind a rock outcropping and shut down the anti-grav coils. The gunner began to sweep the turret left and right scanning for any targets of opportunity. The infantry advanced across the broken fields and it heard the rest of the tanks taking position behind any available cover. The apc’s were further back, their missile racks having greater range than the main tank guns. The armored troops of the infantry moved from cover to cover as they approached a small ridge.

All eyes were drawn to the twin pillars of black smoke that marked the resting places of the destroyed scout g.e.v.’s. With all attention forward, none of the Siliconates noticed several oval, six-legged objects emerge from the soil and start to move towards the grounded tanks.

***

Technical Principale #5 Can/C9 interfaced with the small mine’s sensors and maneuvered towards the looming bulk of the enemy lorica before him. He hoped that the mines stealth ceramic casing would help it avoid detection on approach to its target. The sensor eyes and segmented legs made the mine resemble a huge cockroach. It scuttled across the open ground to the rear of the lorica. Metallic claws grasped the side of the lorica and pulled itself onto the upper deck. TP #5 Can/C9 evaluated the shape of the lorica and positioned the mine under the rear overhang of the turret. Once in position, the mine lowered its belly to the lorica’s deck placing the shaped charge directly against the lorica’s skin. The Principale pulsed a ready signal to his commander. As one, the signal was given to detonate all the mines at the same time.

***

Captain Marches-Always-Forward motioned for its Company to spread out. It glanced behind to ensure that the tanks and apc’s of the unit were covering their approach.

There was a crackle on the comm that brought its attention forward. “Captain, possible contact 12 degrees 500 ground units.”

The Captain activated its helmets image enhancers and looked in the direction marked on its helmet. At 8x magnification the Captain saw what appeared to be a small, wheeled vehicle hidden in the shrubbery. Might be a scout drone of some sort, It thought.

The Captain was about to order the heavy weapons troopers to engage the target when a series of huge explosions detonated from behind. Marches glanced back to see a pillar of fire and smoke marking the location of each tank and many of the apc’s. A moment later, a mass of fire from the front began to flay them. The Siliconates of the Scout Company hit the ground and took cover among the broken ground.

The Captain watched with shock, as the troops of its Company were being accurately targeted and killed at almost half a grand ground unit as they tried to return fire. A salvo of missiles from the remaining apc’s arced towards the enemy positions.

Capt. Marches’ face took on a feral grin. “Scout Company, when the missiles impact among the enemy, advance and destroy the Humans.” The missiles were passing directly over the Siliconate troops when a mass of fire came from the trees and intercepted the missiles, detonating them over the pinned down troops.

The Captain stared in shock at the accuracy needed for such shots. Checking the heads-up display, it saw how few of its troops remained. It keyed the comm, “Seventh Armored Command, this is Scout Company Three, we are pinned down at Phase Line Octagon, section eleven. Need support immediately, enemy fire is powerful and extremely accurate. We are setting down a base of fire but are unable to advance.”

There was a long pause before a reply came. “Heavy Armored regiment is on the way to your position Captain, stay in contact until reinforcements arrive, do not retreat under any circumstances.” The Captain looked at the fire hammering around the positions of each of its troops and thought to itself, as if we could retreat, even if we wanted to.

***

Centurio SDC^20 watched the sun slowly set. The enemy scouts were still pinned down in front of his platoon. He had gotten the signal that the 133rd Mechanized legio was disembarking on the LZ. The shadows lengthened on the torn ground ahead and the Centurio automatically engaged his infrared, ultraviolet and sonic imaging to maintain a perfect picture of the ground ahead.

He received a burst transmission from headquarters. “Heavy lorica units moving out from LZ Scipio, to Perimeter Line Castra. All Manipularii units manning PL Castra, advance to Perimeter Line Musculus. Army tormenta assets available in addition to our own so mark your targets and call fire as needed.”

The Centurio fed the notice to his men. “Principale #6 Fire/tron, take your squad and one more to clear out those infantry. The rest of us will get rid of those apc’s. Once you have finished them off, rejoin us at PL Musculus.” At the Principale’s pulse of assent, the Centurio and half the century moved off to the flank towards the Siliconate apc’s.

***

Principale #6 Fire/tron signaled his two squads to move forward. His tracks bit into the soft earth propelling him forward. The other members of his squads advanced across the ground while pouring fire into the locations where the enemy was known to be. Overhead, he saw the streaks of tormenta shells heading toward the enemy apc’s. With his enhanced vision, he saw the laser designators ‘lighting up’ the enemy for the guided rounds.

***

The scream of artillery caused Captain Marches-Always-Forward to duck to the bottom of its hastily dug fighting position. Several explosions marked the demise of what was left of the apc’s and tanks of 3rd Armored. A growl filled its throat as it heard the whine of motors and the clatter of tracks. Now we will have something to destroy as they come out from cover.

The Captain watched a nearby soldier roll from behind cover and fire, only to be shot to pieces by a fusillade of projectiles. It peered from around the rocks that had provided cover for the past several hours and keyed its comm, “all units stand to and prepare to engakkkk…” Its voice cut off as a viselike claw clamped around its throat.

The Captain looked up along the length of a metal arm and into a pair of cold glowing eyes. A set of gleaming white predator teeth that were painted on the faceplate of the things helmet were the last things that the Captain saw before the claw closed and its head rolled free. The tracked being fired a series of shots into the armored breastplate to kill the parasite before Principale #6 Fire/tron moved towards the next objective.

***

Centurio SDC^20’s Manipularii were rolling and running towards the next perimeter line when they burst through a small copse of trees to encounter a dozen Loricas and over a score of Papilio’s. The lightning quick reactions of the Medians allowed them to fire first. Their guns and missiles destroyed several loricas and papilio’s in the opening seconds, but they were still only infantry and the Siliconate regiment had firepower on their side. The firefight lasted ten minutes before the Siliconates destroyed the Median unit. The regiment rolled on toward the Landing Zone only to be ambushed by the lead units of the 133rd Mechanized Legio as they advanced to their next objective.

The smoke and fires from numerous vehicles climbed skyward as the killing went on.

***

Nauta 3rd Class Iulius Bruttius didn’t expect to have to land back on the surface only 3 days after dropping their troops off, but from the scuttlebutt that was making the rounds on the ‘Sea of Heracles’, the casualties were truly horrendous and they wanted to evacuate the dead and wounded back to Nova Cartago I. The ship grounded in a temporary spaceport that had been carved by the Combat Fabrii.

As Iulius opened the cargo bay doors the sounds of ships and vehicles in the landing zone was like a hammer echoing in his ears. He looked out onto the mass chaos that the landing zone seemed to be. Numerous Human Fabrii and support troops were moving back and forth across the field. A truck rolled up to the bay and a tired looking Optio stepped out.

He looked at Nauta Bruttius and pointed. “This the ‘Sea of Heracles’ kid?” At Iulius’, nod he activated his comm, “They’re here on the southern edge of the field Principale, bring ‘em all.”

Several minutes later, there was a rumble as a group of trucks and a front-end loader rolled up to the loading bay ramp. A dozen men started pulling the canvas off of the trucks and lowered the sides. Iulius saw what looked like piles of scrap metal piled high in the truck beds. The front-end loader scooped a large bucket of the cargo and rolled up the ramp and dumped the scrap on the far end of the cargo bay. It backed up and returned for more.

Iulius saw the troops leaning against their trucks watching the loader do its work. He walked over to the nearest pile of scrap and froze in his tracks. Arms, legs, power claws, wheels, optics, and tracks lay scattered across the deck. The loader deftly moved around Iulius and dumped another bucket load of parts on top of the first pile.

Iulius’s blood went cold as a shark toothed faceplate rolled off the pile and fell to his feet. He slowly leaned down and picked up the charred and melted object. The sound of laughter carried to him and he turned to watch the drivers smoking and joking while their partner unloaded their trucks.

The loader rolled across the deck and deposited another load and rolled back. The cold fire in Iulius’s veins brought a clarity that hot anger wouldn’t have. He looked among the bodies of the Medians and located an intact rapid-fire laser. He picked it up and was relieved to find a standard power coupling on its bottom. Carrying it to his duty station, Nauta Bruttius connected an emergency bypass cable into a nearby power coupling and plugged it into the power socket of the laser.

***

Principale Tanicius and his fellow drivers were taking a break while their trucks were being unloaded. He heard a high-pitched whine behind him and the engine of the loader shut down. He and his men turned towards the sound and his bowels turned to water as he saw a young nauta pointing a rotary-barreled weapon at them with a murderous look in his eye.

The Principale moved slowly and spoke very quietly. “Kid, you better put that weapon down before someone gets hurt. I don’t know what your problem is, but…” His voice cut off as barrels began rotating.

***

Iulius felt detached from what he was doing, but his voice rang out crisp and clear. “Principale, if you say one more word, I’m going to kill all of you. You will listen to me very carefully. These are the bodies of Roman Manipularii, not a bunch of scrap to be unloaded like garbage. Now you and your men are going to back those trucks into this bay, you are going to unload these Romans carefully and with respect or they will be sending your bodies home in very small boxes.”

The drivers looked into the eyes of the nauta and realized that they were seconds from death. The Principale motioned his man off the loader and a few minutes later, the first truck backed itself into the cavernous bay. The legionarii worked for the next few hours carefully unloading the Median remains.

When the last of them had been gently laid on the deck, Iulius motioned the legionarii out of the bay with his weapon and reached over to hit the ramp retract switch. Once the massive door had closed and showed a positive seal, he activated the bay clear switch. Twenty minutes later, the ship lifted off and activated its system drive towards Nova Cartago I. The slow engines meant a long trip until they entered orbit around the nearby planet.

Iulius spent the next several hours praying over the shattered bodies. The laser weapon lay forgotten on the deck near his station.

He had never found a manual trigger on the weapon.

Behind the ship, the killing on Nova Cartago II was just beginning.

Chapter Twenty Seven


(L + 4 months)


Interlude:

Legatus Labienus looked up from his holo as his aide walked in the door. Centurio Maximus came to attention. “Sir, Pro-Consul Pat-142 is here.” Labienus nodded and placed his holo reader on the desk in front of him. The Centurio stepped to the side as the Pro-Consul rolled through the door. The Mede Pro-Consul’s metallic body still showed the red dirt of Nova Cartago II and there were some obvious dents and plasma burns on his outer casing.

Labienus’s mouth took on a grim line. He could have changed bodies before he got here, he thought The Medes don’t do anything by accident, so he must be trying to make a statement by coming here like this. He looked at his aide. “Thank you Centurio that will be all.” Centurio Maximus nodded briefly and pulled the door shut as he left.

Labienus met the cold metallic gaze of the Mede opposite him. No words were spoken between the senior officers.

Finally it was the Pro-Consul who broke the silence. The voice carried a weariness that Labienus had never heard in a Mede before. “Legatus, I came to inform you that without a greater influx of troops, we will be unable to achieve all the objectives outlined in the Battle Plan. The enemy continues to remain strongly entrenched in four of the major cities. Without fresh troops, there is no way my forces will have the strength to take them while we are restricted as to the weapons and firepower we are allowed to bring to bear on those targets.”

Labienus rubbed his eyes and sighed. "Pro-Consul, you have already received five extra Consular Armies, including one of the first Ala Consular Armies. I don’t have any other troops to give you without stripping the forces gathered for the Nova Londinium and Nova Tarentum operations. The restrictions on allowable firepower came straight from the Imperator and are not within my power to alter. The Senate suggested to the Imperator that due to all of the civilians still held in those cities, full release of all heavy weapons should not be allowed. They do not want the extreme levels of civilian casualties that chemical, nuclear or even heavy tormenta fire will bring. The lives of those millions of civilians...”

“Are EXACTLY the problem Legatus!” The Pro-Consul interrupted. “I do not think that you realize Legatus, every time that we kill a host body without killing the Siliconate parasite along with the host, they merely attach themselves to another one of those ‘civilians’ and they instantly have a 100% effective warrior again. I do not think that Classis Command, or the Imperator for that matter, understands how difficult it is to guarantee a kill on the parasite. Their body armor is designed to protect the Siliconate inside above all other concerns.”

The Median gave a static sounding sigh. “So my men fight with restrictions on which buildings they may fire upon, unable to call for sufficient firepower to suppress the enemy, all the while, knowing that 80% of the ‘kill shots’ they make, will only result in the death of the human host and the parasite will be back on the line the next day. I cannot sustain such losses and carry out my mission. Here is a readout of what I will require for the re-taking of Nova Cartago II given the restrictions that have been placed upon me.” The Mede gently placed a crystal on the desk.

Labienus took the data crystal and loaded it into his reader. He quickly paged through the various pages and addendums until he came to the pages he needed. His eyes widened as he saw the numbers of troops that the Por-Consul was requesting. A vein throbbed on his forehead and he felt a massive headache coming on.

When he saw the bottom line he all but exploded. “Pro-Consul! You are requesting ALL the troops assembled for the Nova Londinium and Nova Tarentum operations as well as another two Ala and two Legionarii Consular Armies from the Strategic reserves? Do you realize that will constitute almost 25% of the entire ground forces of the Army of the Republic?”

“Even if I could get as many troops as you ask for, there is no way that the Imperator or the Magister Militum would release even more troops for any operations on Nova Tarentum, let alone Nova Londinium. It would take years for enough troops to be raised for those ops and the Gods only knows how deep the Siliconates will be dug into the outer worlds. It sounds like you and your Staff are being somewhat pessimistic in their appraisal of the enemy strengths and plans. This represents the ‘worst case’ scenario I assume?”

The Median shook his head in the negative. “Legatus, the plan before you reflects a somewhat positive scenario. There are those on my staff who believe that even after we destroy all Siliconate ground units, we will be fighting a guerilla war against Siliconate holdouts for the next 20 years or more until we destroy the majority. That alone will require the permanent stationing of a large garrison just to protect the vital emplacements on the surface.”

Labienus growled as he waved the reader. “I can’t go to the Magister Militum, let alone the Imperator, with this, Pro-Consul; it would be the end of your career.”

The Median pointed at the reader. “If you can not acquire the forces that are required for this operation and require me to carry forward with only the forces I currently have Legatus, you can turn to file ‘RES01’. In it, you will find the resignations of every Median officer involved in the current operation; you will also find the resignations of 78.9% of all human officers under my command.”

“This is blackmail” Labienus growled.

The Median again shook his head and spoke very clearly. “Legatus, I have served proudly as a Roman Legionarii for the past forty years, I have carried out every mission assigned, succeeded where many have failed and have endured endless slights against myself and my race as I climbed the ladder of command, but I will not carry out any further orders without sufficient support.”

Labienus clenched his fist around the reader and motioned to the door. “I will take a look at your numbers with my Staff before I make my recommendation. I will want you close at hand if any questions come up Pro-Consul.”

Pat-142 raised his torso and saluted. “I await you decision Legatus, thank you for seeing me.”

Labienus returned the salute and went back to his reader. A few moments after the Mede left, a small side door to the room opened and Tribunus Curio stepped into the room. Labienus looked up from his reader as the Imperial Intelligence Agency Tribunus took a seat opposite him.

Labienus, still reading, spoke wearily. “You heard it all?”

Salonius nodded. “Was it as bad as you expected then?”

Labienus paged through the reader. “Worse, but Pro-Consul Pat-142 is an absolute military genius and I was hoping that he might have been able to change the numbers we have been seeing in the simulations. Classis Command has given me all the ships I requested thanks to your influence Tribunus, but there is no way the Magister Militum or the Imperator will assign us all the ground forces we will need to re-take all the outer arm worlds. That leaves one option…”

Salonius pulled out his own reader and pulled up some data. “I have managed to get all the items you requested, but there is no way the Imperator will authorize this plan. The Senate will debate endlessly and set up study committees and continually recommend the Imperator do this or that, but in the end, he will never make that kind of call. Too many Romans would die along with the Siliconates.”

Labienus sighed. “Then it is up to me again to do what is needed before they can issue me orders to the contrary.”

Salonius gave him a hard look. “You do know what they will do to you for that; they will claim that you carried forward without orders and that there was an alternative. You are taking a lot on yourself Legatus.”

Labienus brushed a bit of non-existent lint off his shoulder boards and grimaced. “It goes with the rank Tribunus."

He pressed a button on his desk and Centurio Maximus came in quickly. Labienus tossed him a data crystal. “Have the Staff review that and do all they can to make it happen. Send my complements to Pro-Consul Pat-142 and tell him that I am releasing all troops in system to his control immediately. Tell him I would be grateful if he were to return to Nova Cartago II as soon as possible. And have my personal shuttle readied to rendezvous with my flagship.”

As the Centurio turned to carry out his Legatus’s orders, the voice called him back. Centurio Maximus turned back to see a pained look on his commander’s face. “Once you have carried out those orders Centurio, report to Personnel for reassignment, your services as my aide are no longer required.” The young officers face turned pale and he was about to speak when Labienus’s voice cracked out, heavy with emotion “Carry out you orders Centurio, immediately!”

After the shaken officer left the room Salonius looked at Labienus. “It was the best I could do to protect him, he is going to be tainted enough as it is for being my aide.”

Salonius made no comment as he studied the numbers for the upcoming campaign, Labienus had taught him more in the past few weeks about military operations than he had learned in the past forty five years. He was using all his considerable power as I.A.A. second in command to assist Labienus, but once this battle plan was begun, he knew it would only be a matter of time before he received the order he knew he would have to follow.

He looked at Labienus over the top of his reader. “You know what I will have to do, don’t you? And you are still going forward with this?” Salonius sighed as he looked over the folder marked Battle Plan: Ragnarok. With all the death contained here, one more death shouldn’t bother me, but it does. While he paged through the plan, a thought kept moving through his mind, too old, just getting too old and too sentimental for this job.

***

The cloying heat was oppressive as the group of figures moved along the riverbank. The seven members of the group walked in single file. A tall, slender individual led the way, followed by six much smaller figures. All seven were bent under the weight of the packs they carried. Both of Nova Londinium IV’s moons had almost set and there was only a pale glow to light their way.

Their objective loomed before them as they carefully moved through the brush. To some of the more sharp-eyed members of the group, armored figures could be seen patrolling on the bridge itself. The group came to a section of chain link fence and the smallest of the figures took off his pack and wormed his way under. He furiously began digging out the earth from under the fence bottom. Several minutes later, a passage sufficiently deep had been opened. The others passed their packs under and then slid under the fence themselves.

The tall figure held a finger up to her lips as they got close to the support girders of the highway bridge. She motioned the first two up the main support columns and they both scurried up the rock-crete pillar. The other four followed while the tall woman started planting the charges on the lower portions.

Every few moments she would look along the underside of the bridge to catch glimpses of the small figures moving from place to place under the great bridge. The small figures squirmed between narrow areas, which would have stopped a larger individual. Nimble fingers carried out recently practiced tasks as they emplaced the explosive charges.

Every now and again, all would stop moving as a heavy vehicle passed over the bridge. In just over an hour, all the charges had been set and the seven members of the team were moving back along the riverbank for home.

The tall woman looked towards a distant star and whispered. “I’m glad you left before this happened little brother, but I wish you were here now so I wouldn’t have to do this alone.”

As the group arrived at the edge of a small town, she gathered them around her. “I am SO proud of all of you, you all did so well tonight. Someday, people are going know how important the things we did here are. Now go home and remember not to tell anyone what we did, it’s our secret.”

Six faces smiled up at her and the smallest held up his hand. At her nod he spoke. “Will we still need to have our homework on Monday?”

One of the others punched him in the shoulder and whispered fiercely. “Of course you will dumbo! This is extra credit remember?”

He looked at his shoes sheepishly and smiled a sorry to her. The six figures moved off to their homes. Sabina Flavius didn’t head to her apartment until she watched the last of her fourth grade class make it safely home.

***

She was just finishing her lesson plan for the next week when she heard a shattering BOOM in the distance. The smile on her face was terrible to behold as she marked an A+ next to each of 6 names in her class book.

***

Praefectus Classis Horatius looked at the holo projection of his Classis gathered around Nova Londinium IV. To say he had been shocked when Labienus placed half the assembled ships under his command and told him to push out to the Nova Londinium System would have been the understatement of the millennium.

Horatius originally believed that he was being sent out as bait until he had gotten the readout of the squadrons assigned to him by Labienus’s Staff. All the most modern vessels in system were placed under his command and he pushed out to rendezvous with Navarchus Helvius’s Task Force, which had been in orbit over the world for months. He had been holding the system for over a month now himself, waiting for Labienus to join him with the troop transports needed to re-take the world below. The only excitement had come when a small scout group of Siliconate ships had come out of the Apollonian Gateway to Nova Tarentum, but they had retreated before they could be destroyed.

Helvius had sent some of his shipboard Manipularii down to the surface to gather some intelligence and a few prisoners, and now Horatius was observing the product of one of those raids behind the quarantine barriers aboard the Hospital Ship Salkius. The figure behind the glas-steel window wore the tatters of a Roman Army uniform, but Horatius’s eyes were drawn again and again to the rocky, pulsing mass attached to the mans chest.

Horatius turned to the Medicus in charge with incredulity. “Are you saying he is lucid and knows who he is? I thought you said that once they got their tentacles into you, your brain was shut down for the duration?”

The Medicus looked somewhat embarrassed as he spoke. “There is so much we don’t know about these creatures, but I can tell you that this man IS who he says he is and he has answered enough questions for me to believe that he is in control of his own thoughts. He has a few moments now and then where he will go into a semi catatonic state, but at no time, do I believe the creature to be in control of his actions.”

Horatius shook his head and pressed the communications button. “Pro-Consul Renatus, can you hear me?”

The gaunt figure turned towards Horatius. “I can hear you Praefectus. Forgive me for receiving you in this state, but I can’t seem to find my dress uniform and my orderly was killed during the attack on my Headquarters. He was running on fire… three blind mice, three blind mice, see how they run… ” his voice wandered off as his eyes glazed over.

Horatius turned back to the Medicus. “You call this lucid? I think he is totally insane.”

Before the Medicus could reply, Renatus began speaking. “I’m sorry Praefectus, sometimes I wander off, it is very hard keeping control over my little ‘hitchhiker’ here, he knows I’m in control and he is very pissed off that he can’t dominate me.”

Horatius leaned forward. “Why isn’t it able to control you Renatus? Do you know what it is thinking? Can you tell me anything about the force disposition of the Siliconates on the planet? I need anything you can give me Pro-Consul.”

Pro-Consul Renatus breathed heavily as he leaned on the bed. I’d like to think that it was my indomitable will that prevented me from being controlled, but from what I have been able to gather from the thoughts I can pick up from my ‘friend’ here, the Siliconates call this the ‘awakening’ and it happens in about one in a million ‘joinings’.”

“The Siliconates think of it like we think of some of the nastier social diseases. Sometimes the host becomes aware for a moment or two and other times, like myself, the awareness becomes full. They normally kill both the host and the Siliconate in such cases, but I was lucky to be on guard duty when it happened and I used my knowledge of the territory to hide. I was trying to cobble together some communications equipment from my old headquarters when your boys found me.”

“My complements on their conduct and control Praefectus, I don’t know that in their place, I would have checked my fire. I know I’m not a pretty sight.”

“As to the disposition of forces, I’m not too sure; I was possessed by a relatively low ranking Siliconate. It was somewhat humbling to be a private and standing guard over an ammo dump after being a Pro-Consul for all those years.” Renatus doubled over and began repeatedly punching his thigh. After a few moments, he straightened and coughed harshly.

Praefectus Horatius’s voice carried a note of concern through the speaker. “Are you alright Pro-Consul, is there anything we can do for you?”

Renatus grimaced and met Horatius’s eyes. “You can bring me a pistol or have one of your Manipularii come in here and end it. I don’t want to live like this and I don’t want to be sent back to Terra to be poked and prodded by every scientist in the Republic. That’s no way for a professional soldier to die. I have already written down the disposition of all enemy forces as I remembered them as well as specs on everything I can recall. That’s all I can do for you Praefectus, now please… I don’t want to take the chance that this thing will take over again.”

As Horatius turned towards the door the Medicus stepped in front of him. “Praefectus, you can’t do this, this is an unprecedented opportunity for us to study a Siliconate with a cooperative host. We can’t just throw away a gift like thi…akkk.”

Horatius grabbed the doctor by the throat and pressed his face against the glas-steel and growled. “Does that look like a ‘gift’ Medicus? To me, it looks like a step below the lowest plane of Hades itself.”

He released the doctor and turned to the senior of the pair of Manipularii guarding the door. “Primus Pilus, your sidearm please.” The Primus pulled the pistol from its holster and handed it to the Praefectus.

Primus Pilus Sho Khan motioned for Horatius to wait a moment and palmed the door open switch. He and the Optio entered the room with rifles at the ready. Horatius entered behind them.

Pro-Consul Renatus straightened up and tried to smooth his uniform somewhat. He ran his fingers through his hair to neaten it. Renatus pointed to the holo pad. “There are letters for my wife and son, could you see that they receive them please?”

At Horatius’s nod, he came to attention. “Kill them all Praefectus, for all my dead boys, just kill all of them.” The pistol fired several times into the Siliconate and a final time into the head of the Pro-Consul.

Horatius passed the pistol back to the Primus Pilus. “Once the doctors have removed that… thing, from the Pro-Consul, see if they can find an Army dress uniform somewhere and …”

“We will take care of it Sir.” Primus Pilus Sho Khan replied.

Horatius walked out of the room and started keying in data to his pad as he headed to his shuttle. Once he landed on the Retiarius, he headed straight to the bridge. He walked over to the Comm. Officer and growled. “Prep a pod, I have some data for Legatus Labienus. Get a full download from the CMO of the Salkius and I will have additional messages to go out.”

He turned to the Classis Gunnery Officer. “Tribunus Yamashiro, I want a bombardment plan to hit anything that can be confirmed as exclusively military. I want to avoid civilian casualties if at all possible, but I want them to know we are up here. I’m tired of hanging up here like a string of Saturnalia lights, waiting for something to happen.”

A few hours later, the first pilas began raining down on Nova Londinium IV.

Chapter Twenty Eight

(L + 5 months)

Principale Metellus peered through the darkness and into the rainy Nova Tarentum sky from his hastily dug fighting position. Numerous bolts of fire streaked overhead from the Siliconate positions surrounding him. A tired growl was the only sound he uttered as he tried to spot the positions of his manipularii.

I knew things were going to well, he sighed to himself. They fell back just a little too easily during the attack and we fell for it. Metellus tightly gripped the wet stock of his gauss rifle, the knuckles standing out white with his suppressed rage. If we can’t get out of this damn pocket before long, they are gonna roll over us come morning and there won’t be squat we can do about it.

He looked to the right, hoping that Optio Varus hadn’t left the place he had taken cover when the Rocks sprung their trap. “Varus!” he whispered urgently into the darkness. There was a brief pause and a tired voice came back to him.

“Yeah Principale, what’s the plan?”

Metellus smiled for a moment to himself and thought, part of the problem with having a reputation is that everyone always assumes you have all the answers. He moved to the forward slope of his muddy fighting position and in a few moments, sketched out his idea to Varus. After a moment of confusion, the Optio grasped his Principale’s plan. He began to pass the information to what was left of the assault teams. The troops, in their hastily fortified perimeter, were just too tired of taking fire and too exhausted to argue with their new orders.

***

Decurio Longinus’s fist slamming on the table caused several of the coffee cups scattered about it to nearly overturn. “Damnit Tribuni, you HAVE to let me lead a relief force down there and get those men out of there! We can’t just leave them down there to be annihilated! With all due respect Tribuni, but we can ill afford to lose that much of our remaining combat power. We have to at least make an ATTEMPT at a rescue.”

The slam of Tribuni Khitai’s calloused palm on the table decided the matter of the cups and coffee ran over the maps and overlays on the table. The spreading liquid reminded one of the staff officers of blood running across the map surface.

The Tribuni’s voice brought the whole headquarters tent to silence. “Don’t you think I know that Decurio?” Khitai’s voice hissed out. “And don’t you think that the Siliconates know that to and will be waiting to hit any relief force that heads out there to punch through to them? I need those troops, yes… but I can’t afford to lose even more men and equipment on some half-assed rescue attempt.”

The two officers glared at each other over the mapboard, neither giving an inch. The gathered staff officers were careful not to draw attention to themselves as the impasse continued.

Finally, realizing that neither would yield, Sempronius drew himself to attention and saluted Khitai. “Forgive my impertinence Tribuni, my concern for those men overrode my judgment. Do I have the Tribuni’s permission to prepare my Maniple to carry out whatever orders he decides to make?”

Tribuni Khitai gave him a baleful glare and nodded. “Make them ready Decurio, I will pulse you orders when we have an acceptable plan.”

Sempronius moved out of the tunnel and marched briskly to his Legati command apc through the driving rain. With well-practiced hands, he pulled himself on top of the armored personnel carrier without conscious thought and he lowered himself into the small turret with no wasted effort.

He keyed his comm as he settled into his seat and keyed his mike, “Decurio to Maniple, lets make sure all vehicles are 100%, we are moving out to Phase Line Colonia. Once there, we will wait for orders to rescue those poor bastards trapped down there. Fire Support Team, I want a tormenta fire support plan uploaded for any possible scenario, including a frontal assault through the Rock lines, you got me?”

There was a long pause before Principale Gallenus, his FIST commander, transmitted back a quiet “Yes sir.” It was a tribute to the quality of his leadership and the professionalism of his people that eight minutes after he gave the command, the Maniple was rolling towards their objective.

***

Normally a meeting between Praefectus Classis Horatius and Legatus Classis Labienus would have produced much betting and speculation among the officers and men of the fleet as to which would kill the other first. A few months earlier and that would have been the case for this meeting, but circumstances and realities had changed things.

Praefectus Horatius moved across the Aratus’s cavernous docking bay to greet his commander. “Legatus, glad to see you and your ships out here, we had a little excitement when some Siliconate ships decided to make an appearance. Luckily for us, they came through the Apollonian Gateway in three separate waves. It looks like they have the same problem that we do keeping different speed ships together. They still took a chunk out of my squadrons before we took them down.”

“Also, we have managed to gather some good intelligence as to the main Siliconate troop concentrations that should give us some tactical advantages when we land our ground troops. How many Consular Armies did you bring for the initial landings?”

The gathered staff and Manipularii in the landing bay watched Legatus Labienus guide Praefectus Horatius to a far bulkhead and begin speaking quietly to him. The Staff Officers of both Commanders watched as Labienus continued to speak with a face like iron. They saw the blood fade from Horatius’s face and it seemed as if whatever goodwill had built up between the two officers was draining away rapidly.

At one point, they saw Praefectus Horatius’s hand twitch towards his holstered sidearm, but he seemed to get control over his emotions. There were a few words spoken between the men before Horatius, his fists balled in rage, marched back to his shuttle. His staff scrambled aboard as the hatch began to close without warning.

Labienus watched the shuttle take off with Horatius on board and sighed with regret. He didn’t notice the quiet figure appear alongside him until the man spoke. “That could have gone better,” Salonius commented.

Labienus shook his head sadly. “It will take him some time, but he understands what is required. He is just pissed because he can’t come up with a decent alternative.” He sighed. “He’s also angry that I ordered his Classis to escort the troop transports through the Apollonian Gateway immediately so he won’t be here when it happens. He hates the thought that I’m protecting his career by ensuring that he’s out of system when I give the order. He’d feel obligated to attempt to stop me if he was here.”

The two officers walked in silence to the flag bridge of the Aratus. The bridge crew was unnaturally quiet and tense as the Legatus and Tribunus entered.

Labienus looked at his sensor tech. “Principale, status of Praefectus Horatius’s Classis?”

The Principale paused a moment as he checked his board. “IV Classis is beginning their jumps through the Nova Tarentum Apollonian Gateway. Estimate the last ship will jump in 10 minutes.”

The Legatus barely nodded. “Let me know when the last of his Classis has left the system, then have all ships begin the englobement of the planet according to Plan L55K.

The lighter ships of Legatus Labienus’s Fleet scurried away from their larger brethren and formed a picket globe outside the orbits of the heavies. The ponderous Quinquiremes and Sexiremes of Labienus’s Fleet slowly positioned themselves above the surface of Nova Londinium IV.

***
Quetzalmantzin, the former Praetor of Tlacopan, wrestled another broken piece of rock-crete from the destroyed main highway bridge onto the nearby sled. He waved at the two figures on top of the riverbank and they began dragging it up the slope. Several Siliconate soldiers stalked around the area, keeping a tight watch on the workers for any signs of laziness or rebellion.

The sled was lowered again to him and Quetzalmantzin grabbed another piece of rubble. This piece was too heavy and he waved another worker over to assist him. An older man, still showing the remains of a potbelly, moved over to him and between the two of them they maneuvered it onto the sled.

The older man, formerly the Quaestor of Vigiles, whispered quietly. “Any clue who pulled this one off Praetor? Whoever it was, did a magnificent job. The Siliconates were really pissed about losing this bridge. I hear that the main supply route for their southern army ran over it.” At a sharp glare from a nearby Siliconate, the two men moved to another large piece of rubble and maneuvered it out of a crater in the ground.

The whispers of the two men continued as they worked among the ruins of their town’s main bridge. “I heard a rumor from one of the people who work in the Rock Headquarters that our classis is in orbit. We should have legionarii landing any day now.”

The Praetor sighed. “Quaestor, we’ve been hearing that rumor for months, don’t you think that if they were going to land, they would have done it by now?”

The Quaestor shrugged his soldiers. “Takes time to plan an invas… …uffffffffff.” The Quaestor collapsed to the ground as a Siliconate soldier rammed the butt of his rifle into the kidney of the big police chief.

It’s voice rasped out angrily. “No talking, you are here to work. Serve and live. Disobey and die.”

The Quaestor got to his feet with teeth clenched against the pain and glared into the faceplate of the armored soldier using the look that had backed down many a troublemaker over his thirty-year career as a vigiles. He turned it into a grin and a rough chuckle as he saw the Siliconate back up a step and level its rifle at his belly.

Punks are punks no matter what star they were born under. He thought to himself. He drew himself up into what his men used to call ‘Boss Mode’ and looked right where the Siliconate soldier’s eyes should be and projected his anger from the depths of his belly at the poor bastard in front of him.

“You had best remember exactly WHOSE ships are sitting overhead right now, boy. When my people come knocking, we’re gonna remember guys like you and hold a special party for them. So if you don’t wanna end up for the slow, 2 week burn over hot coals when all this is over, you had best back off and let us get back to work.”

The Siliconate soldier looked at the big officer, then up at the sky and then back at the Quaestor. In a subdued tone it stammered. “Work… get to work… you must work and serve.” It backed up the slope still muttering to itself.

The Praetor looked at his friend of many years and shook his head in amazement as they wrestled another large chunk of rock onto the sled. “You take too many chances Flavius.”

“Maybe so Praetor, but when my boy and his friends come back the Rocks won’t know what hit ‘em.” The two men chuckled a bit as they moved another piece of rock-crete from the pile. They both suddenly felt a general uneasiness for some reason.

***

Deep in the bowels of the ships overhead, armament specialists carefully unpacked the black warheads under the watchful eyes of the ship’s Manipularii. The careful mating between pila and bomb was done according to a manual that none had ever seen before, and by the look of the yield specs, none wanted to ever see again.

Once the weapons were assembled, 3 red flagged safety lockout pins were removed in specific order from each of the weapons. Pila Techs loaded each pila into their tube with the delicacy of surgeons. Once each pila was loaded, a key sequence next to the tube was entered and the signal was sent to the Flag Bridge of the Aratus where a counter recorded another pila ready. Aboard each of the ships, men began assembling the pilas of the second wave.

***

“Now children, what is the square root of 9?” Sabina Flavius asked her fourth grade class. A chorus of “Three” came from her students. “Correct” she told them with a faint smile. Her class had noticed that she didn’t have her normally cheery disposition and it worried them. They watched their teacher move to the classroom’s window and look off in the distance as she asked very distractedly. “And the square root of 25…”

***

The Communications Officer looked at the Legatus. “All ships report in position Sir.” Labienus looked at his pale and nervous looking Weapons Officer who nodded briefly.

“All tubes loaded Sir, all stations report that reload should take no more than 10 minutes.”

Labienus got up, straightened his uniform, and walked to the Weapons Station. He looked at the young officer. “Centurio, I relieve you. Please take up station at the point defense console.”

The young officer looked at his Legatus and stammered. “Bu… but Sir, it’s my duty… I shou… d be the one.”

Labienus shook his head sadly. “Not this time Centurio, this is my duty to carry out and it will not reflect on you as a lack of confidence. It is my responsibility.”

Labienus looked around at the bridge crew. “Ensure all extra recorders are on and as soon as this is finished, get a copy onto the communications pod for transit to Imperial Command.”

Labienus cleared his throat and spoke as his hands danced across the Weapons Station controls. “Due to the nature of our enemy and after examining all relevant data on the requirements for re-taking the planets occupied by Siliconate forces, I am forced to conclude that re-taking the worlds currently occupied by the enemy would prove impossible with the forces available to the Roman Republic."

"I have also concluded that bypassing intact, enemy occupied planets would be risking the Classis and the safety of the Republic. As a consequence, I have made the decision as Theater Commander; to destroy all enemy forces on Nova Londinium IV by strategic bombardment, this is to eliminate any possibility of forces being constructed behind us as we advance upon the enemy. I do not take this action lightly and I am the only one responsible for its implementation. Legatus Classis Labienus out.”

Labienus made one last check to ensure that all ships were tied into his console and pressed the main firing switch. From every ship in orbit around the planet, dark missiles spat forth from their tubes and arced towards the planet’s surface.

***

Corporal Thinks-Too-Much glanced towards the sky from the doorway of its barracks; a hot gust of wind blew against it, and for some reason gave it a cold chill despite the heat. It re-entered and watched the soldiers of its company still playing their game of Zac’d’tri.

Shaking its head, it wondered which race that the game had been stolen from. We steal too much and invent too little, it thought for the hundredth time. Watching its fellow soldiers play the game involving small plastic pieces, dice on an ever-evolving map surface and changing rules normally brought a relaxed frame of mind to its thoughts, but not this time.

An ill wind was coming and it gave voice to its nervousness. “I wish these humans would get on with it an land already… this waiting with them hovering over us like Labrania after carrion is frustrating. I don’t know what they are waiting for.”

Sergeant Blood-From-Stone chuckled at Thinks-Too-Much’s discomfort as its deft fingers moved its pieces before the map or rules changed again. “The one thing you will learn when you have been through as many hosts as I have is that battles come when they come and we can’t change it. Why borrow trouble by wishing them here sooner?”

“When the humans land, we will crush them like we did their defensive forces and we will hold the surface until our Fleet gets here and chases off that great flock of Labra overhead. Until then, we wait…”

The Sergeant rolled several dice and removed pieces from 3 of its opponents, “…and I win… again. Pay up all, and no promissory notes, cash only. “ It grabbed the money its opponents threw on the board and snarled as the wind whipping through the door blew several bills across the barracks floor.

“And close that thrice damned door before you find yourself assigned to bridge guarding duty.”

Thinks-Too-Much began to pull the door shut when a glowing streak overhead caught its eye.

***

For many decades after, those who were there and those who claimed to be there would try to describe what they saw. Some would describe it like the flashbulbs of hundreds of photogs snapping pics of a holo-vid star. Others would compare it with rocks being dropped into a pond, the flashes slowly rippling outward. Still others likened it to the slow ignition of a star, crawling across the surface of a once green and beautiful world.

***

The Flag Bridge was silent for many minutes after the impacts. Labienus looked over at his Sensor Tech. “Principale? Talk to me.”

A pair of bleak eyes lifted from his detection board. “Nothing Sir.” He whispered. “There’s nothing alive down there bigger than a cockroach. The people… they’re all… gone.” The crew watched as the blackened globe slowly rotated beneath them.

A voice cut through their musings. “Have all Weapons Techs secure the pilas of the second wave, it looks as if we won’t need them here. Navigation, have all ships of the Classis gather at the rally coordinates and ready a course from there to the Nova Tarentum Apollonian Gateway. We aren’t done with this yet.” The bridge crew looked to him in horror as they realized what was ahead of them.

Labienus walked off the Flag Bridge and marched slowly to his quarters. To the nautas who passed him in the passageways, he radiated control and calm. Labienus palmed the switch to his quarters and entered. The sound of the hatch closing behind him was the signal for him to sprint to the head as his stomach began to turn over. He made it to the toilet just in time.

Chapter Twenty Nine


(L + 5 months)

Praefectus Classis Horatius was not a happy man. To have his career saved by that drunken Gaul was the utmost in insults to him. He had almsot pulled his sidearm and put Labienus out of his misery, yet, in the deepest parts of his mind he knew Labienus was correct, and it burned to not be able to come up with an alternative option. He knew it had to be done...

"Praefectus! We have detected signs of combat on the planet Nova Tarentum II! All indications are that the remnants of the combat forces dropped several months ago are still actively resisting the Siliconates!" The Sensor Centurio shouted out.

Horatius immediately knew what he was going to do. "You do not get to slag this world Labienus," he muttered under his breath. He began to quickly record a message to Labienus. "Legatus, we have detected signs of combat on the surface of the planet, which indicates to me that the forces originally dropped here are still in active resistance. Therefore I have ordered the deployment of the IX Manipularii Army and the XXIV Consular Army to be dropped immediately to assist the forces still in active resistance.”

Horatius paused a moment and hit the record button again. “Legatus, I firmly believe that if we act swiftly enough we will not have to implement the 'Damnatio et Memoriae' directive on this planet. So I urge you to proceed to Nova Tarentum with all haste and bring the reinforcements to retake this world.”

“You may relieve me but as soon as the manipularii carve out a drop zone, I am going to send down the other two Consular armies to reinforce the forces on planet. Praefectus Horatius out.” He turned to his Comm Officer, “Get that sent out now!”

He turned to the Classis Gunnery Officer. “Tribunus Yamashiro, I want a bombardment plan to hit anything that can be confirmed as Siliconate. I don't care where it is located, if it is Rockhead, we kill it. I want them to know we are up here, to stay, and our vengence will be terrible. The look on all the faces in the CIC showed that all were in agreement with Horatius. The Siliconates would find out just how deadly Humanity can be.

***

In the end, even with the artillery fire, there was nothing Sempronius' Maniple could do.

The Siliconates, having found a way through the flank, had attacked without pause, wave upon wave of the rocky bastards, climbing over the bodies of their dead to close with the human defenders. With only 140 troopers and 5 papilio's, including his legati, left. There wasn't enough fire pressure to stop them cold and they came on, yard by yard, against a relentless tide of fire.

"I'm running dry!" one of the legionarii cried as even the seemingly inexhaustible supply of gauss rounds started to run low. "I need resupply!"

The cry went up all down the line as legionarii after legionarii found his ammo supply running lower and lower, the counters going from the hundreds to the tens and then zero.

"Breakthrough on the left!" Saturninus called, standing up out of the driver's hatch and lowering his rifle to fire. The group of Siliconates had forced their way through to the remnants of III century and broken the center by the simple expedient of swarming the legionarii.

With the sundering of the line the beleaguered Roman legionarii seemed to give up hope. legionarii after legionarii lifted himself out of his fighting position, stepping to the rear, those with remaining ammunition firing to try to keep the Siliconates at arm's length.

"NO!" Sempronius cried, scrambling out of legati. "INTO THEM!"

"Centurio's down!" a legionarii from III century called out and was cut off in mid cry.

"By Iuppiter's Bloody balls, Decurio!" Saturninus cursed, sprinting forward to the side of Sempronius while laying down blasts from his gauss rifle. "GET BACK IN THE LEGATI!"

"I Am Not Going To Give Up On Those Men!" Sempronius snarled, shooting to his left. But the tide was irresistible and even he could finally see that. II and III centuries were either falling back or just gone. The Siliconates had the line and nobody was left to defend it. The legionarii still in the line were dying far too fast.

"Fall back!" he called, glancing at his surroundings. "Fall back on the base!"

***

Metellus was firing as fast as he could line up the targets, flipping out magazines one handed and reloading as each expended mag dropped from his rifle. But nothing seemed to help. The remaining legionarii were running from the oncoming tide of Siliconates and no firepower in the world was going to stop them.

"Manipularii, prepare for short-ranged final protective fire," he called as the Siliconates passed the line of fighting positions that had once been filled with Roman manipularii and legionarii. He didn't even bother to try to figure out who was left. It was him and his manipularii and that was more or less that.

"Have to die someplace," he muttered. He flipped another magazine in as Varus slithered over the side of the fighting position followed by Macer.

"Hit the deck and continue firing!" Metellus called out, flipping around and starting to lay down fire.

"Ammo! I'm out!" One of the legionarii scrambled into the supply cache, tearing open boxes, and then cursed. "triari ammo!"

"Triari, open fire!" Metellus called as the front of the Siliconate assault came within thirty yards.

The four Triari, early Roman Powered Armor, were each mounted with four gauss mini-guns, and the hail of metal slivers opened a huge rent in the Siliconate mass, even checking it for a moment. But the pressure from the rear pushed the front ranks forward against the tide of fire and the down side to the horrendous amount of fire the mini-guns could put out was that they ran dry fast.

"Dry!" Antipater called. "I'm running dry!"

"Gotcha," a legionarii said, popping open the ammunition container and opening the triari's reload bin. "Ammo coming up!" he said, tipping the container up and dumping the contents into the bin.

"Feed me!" another triari called, laying down a wall of fire to the north.

But as the triari went through bin after bin, and the remaining legionarii, most of them commanders, laid down their fire, the ammunition ran lower and lower and the wall of Siliconates closed in on the surrounded fighting position.

"I'm dry!" Antipater called, then looked around at the person behind him. "Hey, Met."

"Then use those mini's as fancy clubs!" Metellus snarled as his magazine dropped into the fighting position.

"Boxes are empty!"

"I'm out!" Varus called as his last magazine dropped free. He reversed his rifle and swung it into the face of the first Siliconate to the fighting position. The heavy duty stock smashed at the impact, leaving him holding only the tritanium barrel. Which he then used to smash the next skull in line.

Metellus smashed two of the Siliconates before the first melee weapon caught him on the shoulder. He hardly noticed it but then another descended and then another and he could feel himself tiring, trying to slash and crush in all directions, but it was no use, the triari were backed up to the rear of the position, trying to beat the Siliconates back with their fists and Macer and Antipater were down under a tide of bodies and Varus was nowhere to be seen and...

The sky lit in fire. For just a moment he could see the pupils of the possessed human's bloodshot eyes tighten down to a pinpoint and the reflection of the Thunderbolt of Iuppiter in their irises. And he hit the deck just in time.

He dug his hands into the ground and focused all his effort onto holding on as, again, the hammer blows descended on his back, lifting him up and slamming him down over and over again. He felt himself lifted up and slammed against the wall of the fighting position and his arm cracked backwards, painfully. He could feel that it was broken. He waited and waited, for a moment, for an eternity, but finally the last echoes of the Thunderbolt died away and he could look around.

For a time, it seemed like hours, he could not determine anything in his surroundings. But then slowly the dust settled and he could get some sense of what was around him. he took a look around and there wasn't much. A legionarii here. A legionarii there.

***

"Metellus?"

"Decurio?"

Metellus scanned his surroundings but the Decurio was nowhere in sight. Varus and Macer were both heavily injured and no officers were alive. Even with an arm so dislocated and broken, he was as good as it got. But he had less than half of a century left so it wasn't a particularly heavy burden of command.

"Yeah. I'm alive. I'm in contact with the classis overhead. That blast was a friendly love tap from them, hope you didn't mind?" Sempronius said, imagining the look on the principale's face.

"Nah, I don't mind Decurio, but next time do you think you could move the aim point just a wee bit further away?"

"I will take that under advisement principale." Sempronius said with a chuckle. "Meanwhile I've contacted the Retarius; it's prepared to deliver on-call fire from now until the local Siliconates overrun us or somebody comes to save both our asses. You look like you're in the clear."

"Yes, sir. No Siliconates in view."

"They seem to be trying to reconsolidate by Dionysopolis. I'm calling for fire. But it shouldn't affect your position. Hunker down and hold what you got. You look to be clean for the near future."

"Yes, sir."

"Longinus, out."

***

"Retarius?"

"Go, Decurio."

"One pila strike, UTM North 496506 East 284965."

"Roger that. Ah, what's your position, over."

Sempronius looked down at scorched legati; "Secure. Please launch the pila."

"Launch, out."

Sempronius smiled as the nuclear fireball consumed the gathering enemy host.

He waited until the majority of the dust had dissipated then looked around for more targets.

"Relief commander, we can reach the surrounded legionarii. And we'll be there sooner."

***

The voice Metellus heard on the comm frequency was in metallic-accented Latin and in the background a song was playing, just too faintly for Metellus to pick out. As Metellus watched a streak of fire like a meteor descended from the heavens and a nuclear fireball, followed by a mushroom cloud, erupted over other Siliconate positions.

In the distance he could see beams of light leaping into the sky and more beams, and streaks of fire, coming down. He looked around and the same could be seen in every direction into the distance.

"Defenders of Nova Tarentum, hold what you got," another voice entered the comm net. Presumably all the nets. "This is Praefectus Classis Horatius, Commander IV Classis. Heavy fire incoming. Stand by."

In the distance a wave of fire seemed to leap from the ground as fireball after fireball erupted into the sky. It was clear that energy weapons were taking out every single Siliconate position and settlement for as far as the eye could see. And undoubtedly beyond. Around the whole globe.

Metellus looked up and half shook his head as a line of transports and shuttlecraft, seeming half matter and half fire, dropped out of the sky. Manipularii began spouting from the sides, dropping on pillars of fire then assembling at impossible speed. They were Median, and like the ships, seemed only half there, as if one with the land and sky. The air was filled with music and he shook his head and laughed hysterically again as the strains of "Galerius Orianus" poured through the air.

He lifted himself out of the fighting position as a shuttle approached and an armored figure dropped to the scorched and blackened ground. He waited until it approached and then saluted the figure with the Double Eagle of a Roman Pro-Consul on its metallic shoulders.

"Pro-Consul," Metellus said, dropping the salute as it was returned.

"Principale," the Pro-Consul replied. The face was hard, metallic and very familiar.

" Sorry we took so long, we had a bit of trouble on the way," Pat-142 said, then wrapped the smaller human in his arms as he collapsed from exhaustion.