@Kevin, any suggestions as to which mags I should try? Since I never considered the magazine route.
And I was using JK Rowling as my inspiration. I hope to eventually become the Yank version of her.
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 Centuria 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. ?Scout Centuria, 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 Centuria 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.
