another corner under another watchtower and came face to face with pandemonium.
It was an area normally concealed by the palace walls in the Square. Between government buildings, masses of people were ferrying trunks and boxes from the palace and throwing them into trucks and even construction equipment. Whatever vehicles were available, obviously.
Ahljaela stared at the dignitaries fleeing the doors screaming and carrying computers and papers. A few people ran from the palace without shoes. Large animals on leads were pulled from the emperor's menagerie and forced into cages. The sight confused him and he was startled from his gaze as one of the beasts growled and was yanked away. Thon turned and saw that Ares had dismounted and hitched his horse to a fence. He did the same.
Once the strap was secure, Ahljaela looked up at the palace. The marble walls were pristine white. Ledges storeys above had beautifully carved images of Caesars long past. Gold and silver lined the interiors of engraved letters. Ares snapped his fingers and waved him over. After another group of people ran from the building, they darted inside.
They bypassed the clamor and moved into a darkened and empty hallway. There was a single light at the far end from an emergency battery. Thon looked down at the tiled floor and then touched his belts. His gun, knife, sword, ammo … it was all there.
"Now," he said, "where's the Caesar?"
CIII
CAESAR
1 Day Before the End
He opened his eyes.
He took a breath.
His lungs filled with air and his chest swelled. After holding it for a few seconds, he began to feel his heart beating within. Then he exhaled.
For the first time in a century and a half, Maxentius was alive.
He struggled to sit upright in the pod that held his waiting body. He sloshed in the gel and then clumsily pushed open the thin plastic lid. He was still alone in bowels of the palace, of course, and the lights were flickering. He tensed his arm and looked down to see the muscle flex. Caesar smiled and slowly moved out of the canister.
The body's muscles were artificially toned but it had been so long since the emperor had to think about how to move in such a form. His robot bodies functioned very differently.
The Caesar looked toward the corner and saw his last machine vessel, slumped in a chair with cables connecting it to the transfer system. Gingerly, he walked over the cold floor. Cold! He was feeling cold through his feet. He stood above the empty robot and looked at it. Its metallic skin stayed in its usual flesh-like color and position. Its plastic eyes were open and staring at the ceiling. It had always been an idealized version of his adult self. But now … Maxentius took another deep breath … now he was his adult self again.
A man of twenty-five years old. Brown hair and hazel eyes. Thin, tall, muscular. He moved around the room, looking for a towel, before his eyes settled back on the robot. He yanked its cape off and wiped himself down. He shrugged and decided to strip the machine the rest of the way, putting its gray military uniform on.
The emperor walked out into the corridor and smiled. His nose filled with scents he hadn't smelled in almost two centuries. Subtle smells. His robot bodies couldn't do subtlety. His shoes clacked on the tiles toward the stairway and he bounded up them quickly. After three flights, he began to feel winded and he laughed. He stood at the top of a flight, holding a brass handrail. The apparent young man remained there for nearly a minute, simply breathing. And enjoying it.
An explosion in the distance grabbed his attention. His smile vanished and he continued up the stairs again. When he emerged on the main floor of his palace, the Caesar saw madness.
Senators, consuls, tribunes, and more were running up and down the halls, screaming. They carried boxes, some leaving long trails of paper. He turned and followed them for a while and found himself in a large ballroom, packed with people being herded by Praetorian Guards. The emperor looked around the room and then turned to the right. The large doors were opened and dozens crowded onto the balcony and looked toward the city.
It was a southerly view. The Caesar sidled between a subconsul and a servant and placed his hand on the marble railing. He squinted and looked into the distance as best he could. The bulk of the city appeared to be on fire or at least wreathed in smoke. High above, planes flew and carried out attacks on the approaching Cylon army.
A Praetorian approached him slowly and said, "My lord?"
Maxentius thought about ignoring him. He thought about pretending to be just another human. Then he remembered he was wearing the Caesar's uniform. He turned and said, "Yes?"
The guard saluted. He obviously wasn't sure this was the emperor until just now. "Lord, General Barbus is waiting for you in the war room."
Caesar nodded and glanced again toward the city. Anger swept through him and he stepped away. He stalked through the ballroom past wailing patricians and senators and then into the corridor. A minute or so later, he was in his conference room and saw Barbus standing on the balcony.
"Carry on," she said into a communicator. She turned and saluted. Caesar saw that she was wearing armor not unlike the Praetorian Guard. It was dirty and her face was smudged with ash. "Dominus, I have a status report."
The imperator nodded and said, "Proceed."
"Rebels have taken control of the lower hills and neighborhoods of the city. They have set fires and have successfully fended off any attempts by my men to restore order." She paused, waiting for a response, but the Caesar seemed distracted. "There are … tens, if not hundreds of thousands of them. They are rampaging and I cannot stop them."
"What about the Cylons?"
She glanced toward the large map on the wall. Labels and decals had been placed on it in recent weeks to mark the movement of armies. Now, the symbol for the Cylons seemed to have bred and their offspring dotted the world.
"The Port of Tiber has fallen. Two legions are still fighting there in an effort to keep them contained. Cylon legions are marching from both the north and south to Tiber. They should be here within hours."
The Caesar clasped his hands behind his back and moved toward his large wooden throne. "Their air force?"
"They've been held back for days. We don't know why. There are reports that they have been massing, but we don't know for what. A couple of hours ago, I received word that many of their planes launched. Their paths were erratic, so we can't say what their destinations are."
Maxentius' fingers danced along the antique laquer. He found a small, smooth crack in the armrest. His robot body put that there accidentally decades ago. He mashed his fingertip into it and smiled at the feeling of every nuance of the split.
"My lord," Barbus said, "Tiber will fall." She sighed and lowered her head. "I have failed you."
The emperor turned and looked at her. "No, you haven't. You've fought as well as could be expected."
She seemed relieved but confused. "Dominus, I don't undertstand."
Caesar walked from his dais toward the balcony. He stepped outside and looked toward the distant plumes of smoke. "Overwhelming odds, general." He tapped his fingers on the rim of a tall vase. "Those mobs have killed millions of optimates. They've destroyed datafarms and power stations. Millions of businessmen, senators, prefects … the patricians who transferred themselves … they're gone. If they were lucky enough to be in their machine bodies when the Matrix went down, they will be without power soon enough." Barbus didn't speak. She looked toward the burning city in the same direction as the Caesar. "My empire is falling."
The general looked down and meekly said, "What are your orders, lord?"
Maxentius turned toward her and asked, "Is the Phaethon Project's retaliation plan in place?"
"Yes, lord. The long-range jets are ready to fly when you give the order."
He nodded. "Send them up. Tell them … they'll know when to carry out their mission." Barbus saluted and began to walk away. The imp
erator grabbed her arm and said, "When that's finished, you are free, general." She furrowed her brow and tried to understand. "You may flee or fight … or whatever you desire. Do so with my gratitude." Barbus saluted again and with more reverence. Then, with a snap, she turned and stormed out.
Maxentius stood on the balcony for some time, listening to the commotion outside Viminal Square and within his own palace. He shivered in the night's breeze, smiling again at the small reminders of his newly regained humanity.
He left the room and moved down the hall to some abandoned boxes. Mostly paper there. He turned to a chest and found money, papers, and computer panels. The emperor kicked it and walked into the ballroom. Many of the people there had gone but there were packages and cases left behind. His footsteps echoed in the cavernous room as he walked across the floor to some baggage. The first two contained women's clothes. The third contained menswear. He lifted it and walked back down the hall.
A few minutes later, Caesar Maxentius IX was wearing a plain brown suit. He could have passed for any young man on the street. He adjusted his collar and walked back to the balcony and stared again at Tiber aflame.
To the east, beyond his vision, he heard the explosions of bombs. The Cylon battle at the Port of Tiber was not going well, he guessed. Cylons to the right of me, he thought, rebellion to the left of me.
Again, anger flashed inside him. For more
Lords of Kobol - Prelude: Of Gods and Titans Page 85
