Alexandros stared at the secure message capsule. He reachedunder his uniform and pulled out the Captain’s Key dangling on a thin goldenchain. Northern Command’s keys were shaped like snowflakes. Rotating thesnowflake until a key slid from one of the snowflake’s prongs, he inserted itinto the lock and turned it. A satisfying click sounded and thecontainer cracked open. He opened it fully, extracted its contents, and set thetube itself on his mahogany desk. He turned on the electric light next to him,leaned back in his chair, and began to read.
MESSAGE PRIORITY: URGENT
TOP SECRET CLEARANCE REQUIRED — FOR EYES ONLY
MESSAGE ORIGINATION: ROMA — FLEET COMMAND — MEDDITERANEAN HQ
MESSAGE RECEIVED: BRITTENBURG — NORTH CENTRAL OPERATIONS HQ
RETRANSMIT TO FORT TIBERIUS — XIII GERMANIA LEGION HQ
MESSAGE SENT VIA COURIER TO RECIPIENT
TO: CAPTAIN ALEXANDROS, H.M.A.S. SCIOPARTO
ASSASSINATION ATTEMPT ON EMPEROR, 23 OF SEPTEMBER
STOP
SUCCESSFUL ASSASSINATION OF PRIMUS CAESAR LUCIUS
STOP
SECURE SECONDUS CAESAR IMMEDIATELY UPON RECIEPT OF MESSAGE
STOP
RETRIEVE SECONDUS CAESAR CONSTANTINE IMMEDIATELY FOR RETURNTO ROME
STOP
USE ANY AND ALL METHODS TO SECURE SAFETY OF SECONDUS
STOP
POSSIBLE INFILTRATION OF SECURITY PROTOCOLS
STOP
DO NOT INFORM OTHERS OF SECURITY PENETRATION
STOP
MAY THE GODS’ SPEED BLESS YOU
STOP
SIGNED — AIR FLEET ADMIRAL IGNAEUS, AIR FLEET HIGH COMMAND
COMMUNICATIONS WATCH OFFICER — TRANSMITTER
BRUTUS SILENIUS, XIII GERMANIA LEGION
ORIGIN AND TRANSMISSION RECIEPT SHOULD BE DESTROYEDIMMEDIATELY AFTER ACKNOWLEDGEMENT OF ORDERS
TRANSMISSION LOGGED 13:45:12 ON 25 SEPTEMBER, 1856
END TRANSMISSION
After reading it for the tenth time, Alexandros finallylowered the paper with a trembling hand. Oh … my … gods.
An attempt on the emperor’s life, and the primus caesarwas killed? That meant that the secondus caesar, who happened tobe one of Alexandros’ new friends, was the next man in line for the LaurelCrown.
He pulled the plug out of the speaking tube protrudingthrough his desktop. “Officer on duty,” he called.
“Janus here, sir,” came the instant response.
“Do we know where the 13th Cohort is training? We need topick them up, immediately. Uh … urgent orders from HQ. And see if you canraise the cohort on the wireless. Let them know to be expecting us.” He wasn’tan exceptionally good liar, and in general preferred to be open and honest withhis men, believing that it was good for morale and built a tighter crew. Thiscase was a tad different, however.
“Right away, Captain,” Second Airman Janus responded.
Alexandros replugged the speaking tube. Then he reached downand slid out the drawer next to his left leg. He pulled out a glass bottle anda tumbler. Setting the tumbler on his desk, he unstoppered the bottle andpoured a small dose of fine, aged whiskey into the tumbler, then tipped it downhis throat. He poured himself another and drank it more slowly as he regardedthe missive from HQ. The background hum of the engines suddenly rose as theyincreased speed. Alexandros felt the ship adjusting course to a new heading.
A knock on the door prompted him to carefully fold themessage into a small square and tuck it into his breast pocket as he called,“Enter.”
Airman Yanis entered bearing a plate of food. He setthe food down on the desk in front of the captain and exited the room.Alexandros stared at his food, suddenly lacking any appetite. He replaced thewhiskey and the tumbler in the desk drawer, then closed the message container,locked it, and slipped the snowflake key back under his uniform. He lifted theplate of food.
He stepped out into the corridor, where Pilot Garius sat ona stool with a plate of food on his lap. “Yanis,” he said to the airman besidehim, “let the boy eat until he is full. He can have mine as well. Don’t let himleave yet, though. When we reach our destination, I’ll have a return messagefor him.”
Yanis nodded as he accepted the captain’s plate. Ignoringthe young pilot peering gleefully at this second helping, Alexandros set coursefor the bridge.
So this is what it feels like to be on guard duty fortwelve hours straight, Julius thought, his brain muzzy from lack of sleep.The cohort had been taking part in the required “extended wilderness survival”training, during which a cohort was left alone in a remote location for alimited time to practice how to establish a base camp and becomeself-sufficient. Tribune Appius had been placing some squads on extended guardduty rosters to free up others for hunting and reconnaissance.
Julius paused in his patrol route and leaned on hisplumbata, gazing at the rolling hills and copses of trees that surrounded “FortAltus,” named after the reconnoitering soldier who had sat down in the middleof the vast farmlands of Germania Inferior and declared, “We’re building herebecause I’m not walking anymore.” Julius’s eyes drooped and his nodding headsettled against the iron head of the plumbata. I’ll just put my head downfor a moment …
“Hey, Caesar! Don’t be falling asleep now! Less than an hourto go, my lad.” Legionnaire Horace called out to him from the tower.
Julius started, shook his head, and resumed his walk towardthe corner tower.
“Why don’t ye come on up and take a look at the view from mymarvelous wooden throne?” Horace joked.
Julius sighed. Horace was one of the new recruits who hadbeen added to their unit halfway through training. Several days ago, word hadcome down from the general that he wanted the 13th to be an over-strengthcohort, especially since it would be unsupported by the rest of the legion inits rapid assault role. So, sure enough, the other cohorts in the legion hadtaken advantage of the order by sending the most troublesome, argumentative,and lazy legionnaires they had. Horace was a castoff from 17th Cohort.
Julius looked up at him. “Sure, why not?” He climbed thelashed-together ladder that provided access to the tower and accepted Horace’sfriendly hand at the top.
Horace patted a gauntleted hand on one of the iron wallsthat enclosed the wooden frame of the tower. “The walls are just high enough tomaking sitting and leaning on them uncomfortable. You think theydesigned them that way?”
Julius shrugged. He walked over to the telescope set up on atripod in the middle of the platform. Each tower had a telescope, amodification suggested by Centurion Vibius. Tribune Appius had quickly agreedto the foresight, and now the tower guards were able to see for miles in anydirection, regardless of eye strength.
The two men chatted, careful to remain several feet apartand face in different directions so that any roving squad leader or centurionwouldn’t find fault with Julius’s new post. Of course, Horace would beblamed as well, since misery loves company in this man’s army, Juliusthought wryly as he stared out at the horizon. It really was beautiful.
Horace said something that brought his attention back fromthe landscape. “Sorry, say that again?”
“Geez, Caesar, got wool in your ears? No, wait, you’re afactory cog, so I suppose that would be grease in your ears.” Horace laughed.“I asked, what made you join the army, and how did you end up in this here‘experimental’ unit?”
He was an original member of the cohort, Julius told him; hehad joined the army out of a sense of duty, patriotism, and, he added with someembarrassment, because he was bored.
“And you aren’t bored now?” Horace teased.
Julius sensed an insult and countered with, “What about you?You got transferred in. Must have pissed somebody in the 17th off big-time.What did you do, sleep with the centurion’s wife?” So there! Juliusthought. That ought to shut him up.