by T. C. Edge
"They have the greater numbers," says Commander Hendricks, joining in, his voice similarly impassioned. "I don't think this is a fight we can win, not outright. However, we can do enough to strike a fatal blow to this venture of theirs. We can do enough to force them home. Give us time, at least, to regroup."
I feel the adrenaline beginning to flow through my veins at the thought of it. By my side, Marcus's entire body seems to be buzzing with anticipation for the fight. Yet across the room, sitting dourly, Adryan cuts a despondent figure.
And though I hate him right now, it makes me so sad to see him like this.
This isn't what I want, Adryan, I think, my eyes softening as they look across it him. I don't want this...
His own expression changes as he meets eyes with me. As he hears my words in his head. I look at him, though refuse the impulse to look into his thoughts, to see his mind. I'm frightened of what I might see.
"We will have to use my Stalkers." I turn back to the conversation, to see Colonel Hatcher adding his voice. His eyes fix themselves on President Orlando. "If this plan is to be successful, we must use all assets at our disposal. It is time to unleash the Stalkers, Madam President. There are few more lethal and elite forces in this world that them."
Slowly, my grandmother nods her agreement. "You're correct, Colonel," she says. "There is no time for half measures here."
"I..." squeaks a voice to one side. All eyes turn to look upon Katherine Marr, her hand raised aloft once more. "I...I have a question," she says, her own gaze shifting around nervously.
"Yes, Katherine," says my grandmother. "What is it?"
"Well, um, this all sounds...well, I have no expertise here, of course. But...how exactly are you planning to leak the location of the entrance to the...the underlands? It seems that everything is predicated on that."
Burns lifts up a smile. He still struggles to make it entirely natural at times, but does his best. "I'm glad you asked, Katherine, and you're quite correct in what you're saying. The enemy need to find out where the entrance is, and they need to do it without knowing that we have fed it to them. That is the challenge."
"And?" asks Smith, slightly impatient. "What is the answer, Leyton?"
"Isn't it clear enough?" comes the smooth voice of the President, drawing the attentions of the room back to her. She smiles. "We merely need to ensure that some of our men are captured," she informs us, getting a nod from Burns. "We will make sure our soldiers know of the location of the secret entrance to the underlands. When captured by the enemy, they will be interrogated and have their minds examined and excavated, allowing the Olympians to discover the exact location, as well as a map of the underlands that will lead them directly to the core of the city. Is that what you had in mind, Leyton?"
Burns nods once more. "Exactly that, Madam President," he says.
"And how do we ensure they are captured in the first place?" queries Smith. "I assume you'll arrange further raids for this to happen?"
"Precisely," says Burns. "We will need to make sure that enough soldiers are harbouring the knowledge. Many will likely die, of course. That is a risk we will have to accept."
"It is acceptable," says the President. "Yet we don't want to lose good men. We shall send out the Con-Cops, then. We have been wondering whether they might have a use. Well, here it is."
The room nod in unison, barring Ares and Marcus who, perhaps, don't truly understand the significance of the Con-Cops of their historical creation and use. It's not something I particularly like, of course, but in this case it is, as my grandmother says, acceptable.
"Brie, you and I will need to get working on this immediately," Burns says, looking to me. "We will filter in the appropriate knowledge, though subtly, to the Con-Cops selected for this mission. Make it hard enough for a Mind-Manipulator to find, though not so hard that they cannot unearth it. If it's too easy, they may smell a rat. If too hard, well, it defeats the entire purpose."
"Of course," I say. "Not a problem."
"And we will need to make sure that the entrance to the underlands is under watch," Burns continues. "We can assume they will put this plan into motion as soon as possible, so will need to be ready with our own troops to enact our counter-measures. We will meet with the enemy tomorrow, and set up the raids for that very night. We can assume that they will attack soon after, should everything go according to plan. And, in the meantime, it will give us plenty of time to evacuate the population."
He looks around the room, so often taking charge in moments like this, though always keen to get the final word of consent from my grandmother.
"Does that all sound good?" Burns finishes.
Everyone nods and hums their approval.
Burns looks to my grandmother, who also bows her head.
"Good," he finishes. "Then let's get to work."
23
Kira
"Land ahoy!"
As I sit upon the rear deck, trying to catch up on some much needed rest, the two words I've been longing to hear for days finally reach my ears.
I immediately find myself on my feet, turning, and rushing towards the bridge. On the deck outside, I find one of the more gifted Hawks among Commander Maximus's assembly looking out towards the distant film of land invisible to the eyes of anyone but those with highly advanced vision. I rush to his side, narrow my weary gaze, and with my heart beginning to pace, feel a smile broaden on my face.
Land indeed. Finally...
I step through the door and onto the bridge, Merk in his usual spot at the controls, Dom and Max standing at the front window, engaged in conversation.
"Right on time," says Merk, looking over at me. "Even with that storm we've made it without much delay. A decent crossing, all told."
"If that's decent then I'd hate to see a bad crossing," I say to him.
He grins in his affable old way, the lines upon his face deepening. "Maybe you will one day, my Lady," he says. "You cross this stretch of water enough and you're always going to run into some trouble eventually."
"Worse than that storm?" I ask, raising my eyes.
"Oh, sure. That one got a little hairy at times, but it didn't last long. It can be a lot worse, for a lot longer. You'd never believe how many boats go out, never to come back. Then there's pirates to consider."
"Pirates? In these waters?"
"Sometimes, sure," he says. "Not gonna be a huge issue with Commander Max and his lot around, but for other vessels, can be a serious problem."
"I'd much sooner meet a bunch of pirates than another storm, I'll tell you that," I say. I shudder a little at the memory, recent as it is. In fact, half the boat are still trying to catch up on their rest.
"My thoughts are the opposite," Merk says. "Pirates can be grim folk. They're well adapted to life at sea, and are ruthless when they get a sniff of any loot."
"Well, good thing we have Merk 'the Mighty' for our own captain then, hey."
The old man's face tumbles sourly. "Wish I'd never let you in on that," he says. "I'm never going to live it down, am I?"
I smile at him, so happy to be nearing the coast. "Probably not," I say.
I see Dom waving me over, and step towards him as the ship presses quickly towards the coastline. I've done this trip enough, now, to know the procedure. Ahead, in a well protected cove, is a small dock that we use to land, and moor, the ships. From there, we get access to a small facility, recently built by the Neoromans, where a number of overland jeeps and vehicles are stashed, allowing for a quick transfer onto more suitable transports.
It is, currently, a relatively small collection of jeeps and personnel carriers, intended for the Neoromans when they come and visit on diplomatic missions. The idea is to enlarge the facility, and permanent fleet, so that a larger force of Neoroman soldiers can quickly provide aid to New Haven when required. It's another part of the treaty that is being finalised. If recent events are anything to go by, it probably never will be.
I reach Dom's side, steppi
ng in to join them.
"What's up?" I ask.
"Just talking about an old friend of yours," Dom says. His eyes turn off down the coastline toward the south. "Finn. I'm wondering if we might want to invite him along?"
I smile at the thought of the young man, the sailor's son who fought alongside me during the Imperial Games. He had his powers truly unleashed by the great telepath Polus, and has only improved since then. Even Dom says he's never encountered such a wildly skilled telekinetic, Finn's powers as an Elemental enabling him to control all natural forces with almost equal skill.
We've visited him several times during our journey's back and forth, and have found that his abilities become more pronounced, more developed, each time. And during that time, as his village's protector, he's seen a bit of action too. I think, by now, people have learned not to venture there if they're looking for an easy meal. Word travels fast among the bandit world, it would seem. And word is, there's a kid of obscene power living in that coastal village, so don't even bother trying to attack it.
"I don't think we have time for that," Commander Max says. "However gifted the boy is - and yes, I do remember watching him last year in the Imperial Games - we cannot divert for a single individual. It would not be worth it."
Dom smiles wryly. "You haven't seen what he's become, Max," he says. "It might well be worth it." He turns his eyes back to me. "It's not too far, as you know. What do you think, darling?"
I consider it for a few moments, though the answer doesn't take long to arrive. As much as I'd want to see him again, and have him in the fight beside us, I know it would never happen.
"He wouldn't leave his village," I say. "Not after being away for so long before. And he's got Dana, his daughter, to consider. He'd never risk leaving her without a father, Dom."
"Ah yes, of course," says Dom, seeming to remember.
"In any case," I add, "I don't think I'd want him along anyway. We don't know what we're going to face out there, and I wouldn't want to drag Finn into a fight we might well lose."
"Fair point," says Dom, drawing a deep breath and nodding. "Yes, a fanciful idea, perhaps."
"If we wanted extra support," Max says, "then perhaps Polus himself should have been recruited. You've both told me about this Brie from New Haven, and how she's becoming quite the telepath. Even learning mass control, I hear. Well, if she is just learning such powers, Polus has well and truly mastered them."
I glance at Dom as Max speaks. He knows my fears about Brie, and her endless desire to develop her gifts, realise her full potential. Yes, it's great that she's taken it upon herself to become the protector of the city, a post that Zander would likely have taken if he were still alive - and, well, sort of is, if her continued connection with him is to be believed - but she needs to be careful.
Progressing too quickly, without learning the proper controls and limitations, is extremely dangerous. And that is particularly the case with telepaths, a fact that Dom is only too aware of, given his mother's history.
He's ever been concerned about falling into the same traps as she did, descending into the same madness that engulfed her. In many ways, that's why he's sought to share power within Neorome, not only with Lucius, but with the senate. He didn't have to do that, of course. He could have had it all for himself. Only, he knew the possible costs of such an action. He knew that such power might only corrupt him, and his mind, as it did Vesper.
My concerns for Brie are similar.
"Polus wouldn't have come even if I'd dropped down to my knees and begged him," says Dom, smiling fondly with thoughts of the eccentric old telepath, and legendary gladiator himself. "He still lives off in those woods outside Neorome most of the time. He likes the quiet life. His days of fighting are over."
"Well, that's a shame," says Max sternly. "Polus was the only man your mother feared, Emperor Domitian. He could win a gladiator bout against twenty men in mere moments, setting them all against each other while he merely stood back and watched, never even lifting a finger." He raises a rare smile at the thought, shaking his head. "A few of those and they could wreak havoc to any army. Perhaps, one day, this Brie will be the same."
Dom and I share another look.
"It's possible," I say. "But only in many years time. So long as she develops at a reasonable pace."
Ahead, the coast begins to rush up quicker than ever, the boat slowing as it does so. I see the small cove in which we always moor, the seas lightly lapping at the rocks and little beaches collected along this stretch of the shore. Merk begins manoeuvring the ship into place, slowing as we prepare to make harbour.
It's our cue to get moving, Max stomping off to get his men into line, Dom and I heading for our cabin to gather our things. I pull out the box he made sure to bring along, my combat robes from the Imperial Games inside, now augmented and adapted slightly to be suitable for battle beyond the sand.
I smile as I look at them. The Red Warrior, I think.
"You going to put those on?" Dom asks me, glancing over as he shifts into something more suitable for the onward journey. His own armour is similar to that of his guard, though rather more magnificent and grand, with the most staggering level of detailing upon the metal I've ever seen. "We'll be there before you know it. Might as well get prepared now."
I look again at the robes and armour, what has become my signature outfit now. It's odd, almost, that that's the case, given how I came to wear it in the first place. But, it does feel right on me now. And I do rather like the title it affords me. No, if scouting or spying, or on a mission to assassinate, I'd wear something a little more appropriate, less conspicious.
But here, among all these dashing Neoromans, I'll fit in just fine.
I begin stripping off my clothes, and donning the armour that gives me such strength.
Ready, should it come to it, to rush straight into a war.
24
Brie
I stand at the edge of our small leadership group, staring across the plains at the enemy encampment. Beside me, Secretary Burns watches on, his eyes cold, staring, waiting for his plan to be put into action.
Next to him is my grandmother, dressed in her dark, austere garments, her grey hair neatly arranged, her acerbic tongue primed for its own, verbal, war.
On the other side of her is Adryan. Still, we haven't spoken since that strained conversation three days ago now, sharing only glances and darting looks, sometimes pained, sometimes angry, sometimes soft and melancholic. It's as though we've decided to not speak of things until this is all done. As though neither of us wants to waste the energy it will take discussing this break, of the possible ending of our marriage.
One that started as a sham, and evolved into something real. And now, well...who knows.
The last man among our forward group is Ares, looming above us all, shimmering and shining in his great silver armour and red robes. He is alone in his costume, the cohort of Neoroman guards to our flanks dressed in the regular garb of the City Guard. Among them is Marcus, along with Rycard, leading the two flanks. Commander Hendricks and Colonel Hatcher remain within the city, behind the gates, prepared with a more significant force should this meeting break out into something more aggressive.
My eyes stare across the grasslands, zooming in towards the wall, built of mud and logs and sheets of strange metal. I can see soldiers on top of it from here, buzzing around like ants. And down towards its base, five or so metres from the ground, the small holes through which several of their cannons have been firing their energy shells down upon the city.
Right now, those cannons have gone on hiatus, sending the world silent as we gently amble forward through the foggy mist of the early morning. I feel a thrill standing there alongside my allies, staring towards the enemy fortress ahead, so eager to meet them first hand, to see if I can creep into their minds.
I've been told already by my grandmother to stay calm and in control. She knows my experience of these people, and is fully aware of my disdain
for what they do, what they represent. My anger over them has had a tendency to boil over at times, and right now, if words are shared and things get heated, she needs me to stay on my best possible behaviour.
Still, I can't help but narrow my eyes when I see several figures emerging from the distant wall, a gate seeming to be drawn aside at its base. They come, as we are, a central leadership group of their more powerful warriors, flanked by a number of other guards. I scan them all, focussing on those at the front as they march towards us, trying to ascertain just who is who.
The Heralds of War, I think. And the Chosen. These are their so-called legendary warriors. The very best of the best among their classes of Enhanced...
One immediately stands out to my eyes. Even those beside me - Secretary Burns, my grandmother, Adryan, all with regular, Unenhanced vision - will be able to see him from here. A staggering giant, quite possibly the biggest I've ever seen. I've had my experience of Brutes here in Haven, and remain friends with Titus to this day, under whom my dear adopted brother Drum serves in the City Guard, but this man marching towards us now is simply titanic, a veritable giant among giants and, I'm certain, their Chosen Brute. Or, as I know they call them now, 'Titan'.
If he draws the eye as the most conspicuous of the bunch, others appear clearly too, most notably the two Fire Elementals, or Fire-Bloods, walking side by side along one edge of the group. They glow radiant hues of orange, yellow, and red, a quite fascinating sight, their armour seeming to augment and contain their powers somehow.
I look upon them, the girl in particular, zooming in with my eyes. There's something in her face, even from here, some conflict that confirms what I sensed, what I saw in Perses's mind only yesterday. This isn't the path she anticipated. This isn't the life she expected to lead. No, she doesn't know what truly lies in store for her. She has no idea that her purpose, her true role here, is to burn our city down, kill all who dwell within.
