by West, Kyle
I reached for my canteen, finding it mostly empty. I chugged what remained of the water.
“I need a refill,” I said. “If anyone wants to come with me.”
“Hold your horses,” Ashton said, throwing his blankets off. “Let the old man get his bearings.”
A few minutes later, we had our boots on and were as ready as we were ever going to be. It had not been a good sleep, but we had to take it because it was the sleep we were getting.
That was when I remembered my dream.
“They’re in Oasis,” I said.
Both Anna and Ashton look at me.
“You saw this?” Ashton asked. “In a dream?”
“Yeah. I don’t know how I keep dreaming...”
I told them about what I had seen from Askal’s point of view, how the Recon sped away over the Great Blight, making for the walls of Oasis as it was chased down by hundreds of crawlers. I ended my story with the line of explosions outside Oasis, and Askal getting hurt.
“Will he be alright?” Anna asked.
“I don’t know...” I said. “And I don’t know if the others will be alright, in Oasis. That town must be under siege by now, and who knows what a man like Ohlan is capable of?”
We sat on our cots quietly for another moment, thinking.
“So, what are we going to do about it?” Anna asked.
“We have to get in there and rescue them,” I said. “Once we have the ship.”
“I know that,” Anna said. “But when do we do it, and without pissing off Augustus?”
“Small chance of that,” Ashton said. “We can’t leave them there, no matter what he says.” He looked toward the tent flap. “But we shouldn’t be discussing this here. Right now, let’s just focus on staying on Augustus’s good side. We don’t have that spaceship, yet.”
Ashton was right. At his nod, I opened the tent flap to reveal the slate-red sky. Long clouds hung low and wispy above the camp.
Two Praetorians still guarded the tent, different from the ones that had been guarding last night. If they had heard us speaking, they gave no sign.
Down the straight dirt path, Maxillo walked toward us. It looked as if he had already been heading this way.
“You can find breakfast and coffee by the fire,” he said. “The Emperor wants you by his tent in one hour.”
First, we took our turns at the latrine, after which we headed to the fire, where we found the same two legionaries from yesterday – Carlos and Horacio. They tended a large pot stewing over the fire. Eight other men were already lined up with wooden bowls and spoons. Even if they looked a bit tired, their backs were straight and their eyes alert.
Horacio, the short man who only spoke Spanish, addressed the men in line, gesturing toward us. The men gave a cheer as Horacio lifted the pot, letting out steam that smelled of sweet corn and pork.
Carlos translated. “He says: for breakfast today, these three are part of our siglo. Century. He says you are special guests of the Emperor and he wants them to eat with the best. El primer cohorte.”
“El primer cohorte?” I asked.
“The First Cohort,” Ashton said. “The most skilled fighters in Augustus’s army, besides the Praetorians.”
The men waited, not yet going for the food.
“They are waiting for you,” Carlos said.
I nodded my thanks to the men. Horacio handed me a wooden bowl and spoon. His cheeks were grizzled, where yesterday they had been clean-shaven. Dark circles underlined his brown eyes. I wondered at Horacio’s story. He seemed to be a little younger than Carlos, so maybe he was only on his fifth or sixth campaign. He seemed to be second-in-command of this group, of which I counted ten. I remembered Julian telling me, while in Nova Roma, that the legions were subdivided in sets of one hundred, called centuries. These centuries were further divided into ten groups of ten. Decades, maybe. These decades seemed to cook, eat, and share tents. They might have even fought next to each other in battle.
Augustus based everything off the Roman Empire for a reason; if it worked for the Romans, so he supposed it would work for him.
I held out my bowl, and Horacio filled it to the brim with corn porridge. There were bits of pork, left over from last night, along with chopped onion, tomato, and jalapeño. The wooden bowl was hot in my hands. I walked from the coals, setting my bowl on the ground for the moment. I went to refill my canteen at a cask not far from the fire. I filled my canteen, along with Anna’s and Ashton’s.
I sat back down and took a long drink of cold water. The fire warmed me in front while the morning air cooled me at my back.
Horacio approached, handing me a clay cup filled with steaming liquid. I smelt the aroma of coffee. I accepted the cup.
“Gracias.”
“De nada, mi amigo.”
After taking a sip of the hot, black coffee, I tucked into the porridge. It was good, but nothing could have topped the fajitas from last night. It was spicy and sweet at the same time from the corn and chopped jalapeño, while having the sharp taste of red onion and the savory taste of pork. Even though it was basically a way to get rid of the leftovers from last night, I still scraped the bowl clean. Horacio smiled and pointed to the pot, telling me to have seconds. He seemed pleased I liked it so much.
I filled my bowl halfway, and some of the legionaries went back for seconds.
The morning was quiet. All around the camp, other groups of men, usually of ten, ate breakfast around their own fires. Everyone’s schedules must have been similar. The young legionaries talked and joked in Spanish, though the old ones ate silently. They wore leather armor, mostly, something that would be useless against the Reapers, who had guns. Many of the men had machetes strapped to their belts. The armor was dusty and gritty, as much as the men themselves were.
I wondered why Augustus wanted us to see how his army operated. Maybe it was to give us a sense of his power? It was interesting to see how it all worked, whatever the reason.
In time, breakfast was over. The day had brightened, and Carlos told us that he and his men would clean up, and that we should go see the Emperor. After thanking the legionaries, we left the men of the First Cohort behind.
The sky was now a subdued red. There was a lot of dust here, mostly from the movement of soldiers. We passed groups of men, even an entire century marching toward the front gate. They carried long spears and shields of thin metal, the shield fronts painted red with the Roman numeral IV. I was beginning to wonder if Augustus’s army only had primitive weapons like spears and shields, when another group of soldiers passed, toting rifles. These men had purple plumes in their helmets, signifying a higher rank. Not all the soldiers got to carry guns, probably because their supply was limited, but I supposed even a soldier with spear and shield could be of use, with others in great enough numbers.
I didn’t know how many men Carin Black had, but at least a few thousand, counting all the gangs under his command.
We stopped in front of Augustus’s opulent tent. Maxillo went inside as soon as we arrived. We stood outside a moment before Maxillo ushered us in.
We walked inside, finding ourselves once again in the lap of luxury. The Emperor sat at the low-lying table, over which spread a detailed map of Los Angeles. Augustus stared at the map intently, holding a porcelain cup of coffee in his left hand. At our entrance, his eyes turned upward.
“I trust your breakfast was good?”
We said that it was. Zuma rushed to a cabinet standing against the left wall of the tent, and there filled three detailed, porcelain cups with coffee. He then took a small container, adding a dab of golden, viscous liquid to each. I realized it was honey.
Zuma carried one cup at a time, handing the first to Ashton. Ashton looked at its contents skeptically, but after a moment, took a sip. Anna was served next. She ignored the coffee. I took mine last of all.
Augustus, very carefully, began to roll up the map as I took a sip of the sweet coffee. He handed the map to Zuma, who held a cylindri
cal, leather tube. Tenderly, Zuma placed the rolled-up map inside the tube, where it would remain safe and unspoiled by the environment. He went to the cabinet and stored the tube on the upper shelf. He closed the door and locked it with a key hanging from his neck.
“Here we are again,” Augustus said, beginning the conversation. “Is the coffee good?”
“Yes,” Ashton said.
Augustus smiled. “I am glad, my friend. Grown only in the mountains north of Nova Roma. It is my favorite.” Augustus took another sip, savoring the flavor. “Let’s get down to business. I want you to see that I am genuine in my offer of friendship. I hope after a good night’s rest, you are still committed to working together as I am.”
“Whatever,” Anna said. “Let’s just get started.”
Augustus said nothing, taking another dignified sip of coffee. Zuma stared daggers at Anna for her lack of respect. Maxillo gave her a stony stare. Anna looked as if she didn’t care.
“It’s alright,” Augustus said. “In fact, I appreciate such bluntness, as it is very lacking among my own governors and advisors.” Augustus drained the last of his coffee and handed the cup to Zuma, who took it with a bow. “We are ready to leave, upon the arrival of Captain Sparks. We should have enough time to rescue Perseus and begin preparations for the Radaskim attack.”
As if his name were a summons, Jonas Spark entered the tent. His blond, spiky hair was wild and his black-rimmed glass hung askew. Duct tape held the frame together at the nose – after many years, the glasses had seen a lot of punishment, and it was surprising they had lasted so long. He wore khaki cargo pants and a white shirt overlaid with a blue vest.
“You called for me, Princeps?”
“Yes,” Augustus said. “Is everything ready to depart?”
Sparks nodded. “Yes, Emperor. Orion is ready to fly when you are.”
Sparks appeared even more disheveled than the first time I’d seen him; apparently, he’d gotten little sleep. Hard to imagine, since he had stayed on the ship, where the accommodations were more comfortable than the camp.
“In future,” Augustus said, “try not to carouse on the night before a major mission. Everything depends on this, as I’ve already told you.”
Jonas’s face blanched, but there was the hint of a smile on his face. “Yes. Sorry, Princeps. I’ll keep that in mind.”
Anna shook her head as Ashton stared at Sparks. The Emperor’s tone suggested that it wasn’t his first time reprimanding Sparks. Judging by Jonas’s unrepentant features, he didn’t care.
“It’ll take a couple of hours to reach Bunker Six,” Jonas said. “Everything’s ready.”
“Good,” Augustus said brusquely. “Then let us depart.”
***
We walked with Augustus, his Praetorians, and Jonas Sparks to the west side of camp, exiting through the gate we had entered yesterday. The gate was opened to reveal the airport terminal and its boarding tunnels outstretched. The legionaries had set up outposts around the massive building. Mounds of sandbags rose from the tarmac, behind which guards took shelter.
We walked until we arrived at the terminal’s entrance. While we had been sleeping, Augustus had set up a long perimeter of sandbags in front, behind which yet more legionaries were sheltered. There were hundreds of Imperial soldiers here. The sandbags would be more useful against bullets than crawlers.
Maybe, though, that had been the Emperor’s intent.
We walked inside the terminal. We weaved our way through the building, until we arrived at the stairwell we had come down yesterday. Most of the Praetorians stayed behind while Maxillo took the lead, followed by Augustus and Sparks. Ashton, Anna, and I came next, followed by six more Praetorians. This meant the blond, second-in-command Praetorian was in charge of the guards left behind. I still didn’t know his name.
When we reached the top of the stairwell, Maxillo opened the door, revealing red daylight. Orion was parked, just where Jonas had left it, on the large helipad. We walked onto the flat rooftop.
Jonas raced up the boarding ramp, and entered the code into the keypad. The door hissed open, letting out a stream of air. Everyone entered the ship. When the last Praetorian had gone in, the door slid shut.
We seated ourselves in the wardroom while Sparks, Augustus, and Maxillo made their way to the bridge. The rest of the Praetorians found handholds on the bulwarks they could grasp, in preparation for lifting off.
The ship vibrated as its fusion drive came online. Sparks’s voice emanated from speakers built into the wardroom’s corners.
“Prepare for liftoff.”
Immediately, the ship lifted. I heard the ship’s struts retract into its hull, and the boarding ramp slid into its slot. The ship turned, accelerating away from the airport.
We stayed seated as we gained in both speed and altitude. A few minutes later, we had reached cruising speed.
“What’s Bunker Six like?” I asked Ashton.
“It’s a small facility,” Ashton said. “One of the satellites of Bunker One. It held approximately 250 people, along with the United States Space Fleet. I know I said it wasn’t dangerous, but I was speaking relatively. Going into an offline Bunker is always dangerous. The hangar should be clear, though. At least, it was the last time I was there. It was sealed off back when the Bunker fell. Everyone who escaped, myself included, ended up in Skyhome.”
“If it’s clear, like you say, no problem then, right?” I asked.
“We’ll see before long.”
Chapter 7
It was two hours before Orion dropped in altitude. Within another few minutes, Orion ceased forward motion and began to lower vertically. We were descending into Bunker Six’s hangar. The struts gave a metallic squeal as they extended. Shortly thereafter, the ship touched down.
Ashton, Anna, and I stood as the boarding ramp extended. Sparks, followed by Emperor Augustus, entered the wardroom.
Maxillo handed Ashton a radio. Another Praetorian handed Ashton, Anna, and I our handguns. Anna also received her blade.
“When you get to the blast door, Jonas will give you the code,” Augustus said. “Once on board, he’ll walk you through the start-up sequence.”
“I know how to fly a ship,” Ashton said.
“Once the ship is online, we’ll be ready to head back to L.A.” Augustus paused. “Understood?”
Ashton nodded. “Let’s get this over with.”
Maxillo opened the door. A rush of stale, metallic air entered the wardroom. When I stepped down the boarding ramp into Bunker Six’s hangar, it was much colder than I expected. From above, red sunlight filtered down through a large, square opening large enough for spaceships to enter and exit. A wide, open area stretched between us and where Perseus was parked. The ship looked exactly like Orion and Odin, which made sense because the three ships had identical schematics.
The last two spaceships were in this very hangar, unless there happened to be another one out there we didn’t know about.
As we descended Orion’s ramp, I continued to take in my surroundings. Walls of rock rose before stopping at the opening above. Toward my right, in the back corner of the hangar, was a large, retractable door, barred shut. I assumed it led deeper into the Bunker. Faded yellow paint on its corrugated surface read 6.
As Orion idled behind us, Ashton struck out across the hangar. I felt Augustus’s eyes on us as we walked.
When we finally made it to Perseus, we walked up the boarding ramp. Ashton raised the radio to his mouth.
“Code?”
“7-4-6-5-Z-Z-8-0-0,” Jonas said.
Ashton input the code. The door beeped and slid open, revealing Perseus’s wardroom. It was identical to Odin and Orion in every regard.
“You and Anna scout aft,” Ashton said. “I’ll head to the bridge.”
Anna and I followed Ashton’s order. Once aft, we checked the two cabins on the left side of the corridor, and the clinic on the right. The lavatory was also clear, which left the engine room. It was als
o empty of threats.
We headed back to the wardroom, where we met Ashton.
“Cargo bay,” Ashton said. “I already checked the bridge, galley, and captain’s quarters.”
We headed down the three steps out of the wardroom, opening the door into the cargo bay. It was practically empty. There was a metal cabinet built into the wall, and several cords and hoses curled on the deck, but not much else.
“Clear,” Ashton said into his radio.
“Are you at the bridge yet?” Jonas asked.
“In a minute,” Ashton said. “About to start it up.”
“Hurry. The Emperor wants to get moving.”
We exited the cargo bay and headed for the bridge. Anna took the copilot’s seat while Ashton took the pilot’s.
“Code?” Ashton asked.
“3-1-5-8,” Jonas said.
Ashton keyed in the code on the LCD. Slowly, the ship rumbled to life. Its hull and deck vibrated as the fusion drive, dormant for thirty years, worked itself online.
“Thank God it works,” Ashton said. “Fuel levels full. Switching to inter-ship comm.”
“Copy that,” Jonas said.
Anna flicked a few buttons. “Should be connected.”
“Jonas?” Ashton asked. “You hear me?”
Jonas’s voice now came from the dash.
“Loud and clear.”
“Following your lead.”
“Copy that.”
Orion lifted from the hangar, its thrusters glowing blue. Ashton waited a few seconds before following. I strapped myself to the jump seat at the back of the bridge, behind both Ashton and Anna. The ship swerved as it rose. The hangar fell away as we lifted into the red sky above.
Before us spread a panorama of pink and purple mountains. Red mist shrouded the jagged peaks, and pink xenofungus extended as far as the eye could see. Swarms of birds flew in cyclones above the xenofungal floor. In the far distance, a massive Xenolith rose from the fungus, much larger than any I’d ever seen. More such Xenoliths dotted the horizon. We were deep into the Great Blight. The xenolife here would be more massive and exotic – and probably dangerous.
“Perseus...” It was Augustus’s voice. “We have just received word from Los Angeles. The Reapers are shelling my camp.”
