The soldier straightened. “Yes sir, Your Lordship, sir.”
Constantine waved a tanned hand. “Don’t call me that. I’msimply a tribune-just plain Tribune Appius, a simple officer, newly assigned toa new legion.” He smiled, torn between amusement and relief at being able tosay those words.
“Well, sir, if you don’t mind me saying, we ought to getgoing,” the older man replied, tapping his wrist chronometer. “You don’t wantto make a poor showing on your first day.”
“And you are…?”
“Centurion Germanicus Horatitus Vibius, sir. ThirteenthCohort, XIII Germania Legion. I’m your second in command. I’ve got fifteenyears’ experience with the III Galitica and the VII Hispana. The new legionwill be based twenty-five miles northeast, at Fort Tiberius. We’ve beenawaiting your arrival. Legion specialties include-”
Constantine cut him off. “I’ve read my briefing files,Centurion Vibius. I know what the legion’s specialties are-or rather, what theywill be.” His fingers slipped under the neck of his tunic to absently fiddlewith the gold medallion resting against his chest. He had found himself doingthat frequently, the last few days, a nervous reaction to his first solo flightfrom Roma to Brittenburg via Massila along the southern coast of Gaul. Althoughhe was “in disguise,” he was certain that his parents had ensured the… acceptabilityof the other passengers and the crew, and probably had a few secret constabletypes hidden among them. Not that he cared; just not being waited on hand andfoot by the others gave him a sense of freedom. He was sure he would get overit soon enough, but in the meantime, he was enjoying it. A chuckle escaped hislips. His older brother would have been outraged by the lack of servants,fanfare, and general respect for his position that he believed he deserved.
Centurion Vibius looked at him quizzically. “Are you readyto take command of your first cohort, sir? The last officer I worked withthought he was Augustus Caesar in the flesh. He didn’t last too long. Herotypes tend to get themselves-and their men-killed pretty frequently; ImperialRoman history makes that clear, sir.”
Constantine understood the unasked question. The centurionwas simply trying to get a feel for Constantine’s thoughts about his ownmilitary prowess. He thought for a moment, crafting his reply. “Honestly,Centurion, I’m excited to be here, with the opportunity to learn the artof warfare from our more experienced officers. I believe I’ve got a few thingsI can bring to the table.” The centurion inclined his head, accepting theanswer.
“Besides, I’m sure that the legate has told you, in nouncertain terms, that if anything happens to me, there will be Hades to pay,”Constantine continued, smiling at the older man.
Vibius smirked at the comment, then reached forConstantine’s bag. “Are you ready to go, sir?”
“Yes, Vibius, I think it’s time we left this causeway.Although the view is stunning from here, I think we ought to see more of thisindustrial powerhouse, don’t you?”
Vibius sighed with the air of a long-suffering assistant andled the way into the terminal’s bright atrium, where they were swallowed in thecrowds.
Neither noticed the man wearing grubby, well-patchedoveralls who followed them at a distance.
The sun continued its daily ascent into the heavens. By nowit was almost ten o’clock in the morning, and the light was finally reachingthe lower parts of the city, piled high with tenements and apartment complexes.Julius raised a hand to shield his eyes as he walked around a corner intobright sunlight.
A high, clear horn blast echoed down the street. Pedestriansscurried out of the way as a troop of auxiliaries quick-marched past, led by anofficer on an ostrichine, the mechanical walker’s speakers squawking a generalalarm over and over again. Its odd bobbing movements looked realistic, as faras Julius could tell. Then again, he’d never seen a real ostrich, so what didhe know?
“Something must be going on,” a leathery old man next to himcommented.
Another passerby mentioned that a patrol had gone missingthe night before. The conversation flowed around conspiracy theories, invasionsby Nortlander sky pirates, and rumors of rebellions. Although Julius discountedall of those, it was rare that a fairly lawful city like Brittenburg would havea patrol disappear. There were the usual low-scale illegal activities, theoccasional murder, and racketeering, prostitution, and robbery, but rarely werethe actual police auxiliaries attacked. That tended to bring lots of unwelcomeattention down onto every criminal’s head. Brittenburgers were inventorsand tinkerers, not murderers and rebels.
While Julius pondered this, the last pair of auxiliariesmarched past, and he took advantage of the near-empty street to run most of therest of the way to the factory.
His footsteps echoed as he walked into the building. It wasoddly empty for a second shift on a Wednesday. The weedy paymaster stepped outof his office, and Julius saw a shadow in the room behind him that indicatedthe presence of another person. “Where is everyone?” Julius asked him. “What’sgoing on?”
“The factory owners have declared that today is a day off,”the paymaster said. “Go home and enjoy your freedom. They’ll even count todayas a full working day for you, so you’ll get your full pay.”
Julius stared at him as he digested this unexpected news. Asfar as he knew, the owners, whom he had never seen, had never given theirworkers a day off. They liked squeezing every ounce of productivity out oftheir employees, even at risk of their health. Even in his father’s time, hedoubted that there had been occasion for an unofficial day off. Well, hedecided, stepping forward, now he had a chance to end his time here at thefactory on a high note.
After securing his remaining pay from the paymaster, Juliusinformed him that he was leaving to join the army. The man’s brown eyes widenedand a muscle in his cheek twitched. The figure in the office behind himshifted, then settled back down.
“Well then, good luck to ya!” The paymaster shook his hand.His bones felt frail and thin within Julius’s calloused grip.
Julius left him to clean out his locker. Twisting anantiquated key in the lock, he swung the door open and removed from within hisutility belt, an oil-covered smock, and a small phonogadget he was building outof spare parts for Marciena. She loved playing with the odds and ends hemanaged to piece together into something new. He had been saving money to sendher to the Brittenburg Girls’ Academy, where they taught engineering andscience to girls, not just needlework and cooking. That is what a moderngirl needs to know, he thought as he regarded his handiwork on thephonogadget. With my army paycheck, it will be far more likely that she willattend.
He stuffed his things into his bag and turned to go, thenpaused as he noticed a large, canvas-covered shape at the back of thewarehouse. Had third shift completed a new mechaniphant that was now awaitingtransport? But no, the bulges and protrusions that would denote the contours ofa standard mechaniphant were missing. They must not have completed itentirely. It doesn’t have the horns, or the enclosed driver’s compartment inthe front. He frowned. But why would it be over near the doors, ratherthan in the middle of the assembly line? If it isn’t complete, it shouldn’thave been moved. Then he shrugged. He didn’t work here anymore, so hedidn’t really have to care.
The warmth of the noonday sun banished any further thoughts ofthe mysterious, canvas-covered object from his mind as he stepped out into thebright sunlight. He grinned at the shining city around him, Germania Inferior’sgear-studded jewel.
There was no sunlight on the day that Julius joined theGermania XIII Legion, only the gray smog from innumerable smokestacks thatblended seamlessly with the gray clouds overhead. The warm air was motionless;even the breeze off the ocean seemed lackluster. He was one of over twothousand new recruits; another one thousand men from the surrounding towns,villages, and sub-provinces of Germania Inferior would join the legion at FortTiberius. Standing with his fellows in a large clump at the center of theplaza, Julius listened to the droning speeches of various bigwigs, dignitaries,and important people of the city, too bored with their self-aggrandizement andbig words meant to inspire loyalty, strength, and moral fiber to be bothered bytheir hypocrisy.