Lost Legion- Blood and Honor Page 6

  “Can we request additional reserve elements?” asked Cassia.

  “Do you think that you will need them?” demanded Garibaldi. “I thought the legion prided itself on winning battles?”

  “We do,” said Aurelius, placing his hands on the table. “We do not, however, go into battle without intelligence and preparation. We know nothing of this enemy, its strengths or weaknesses, or their numbers. To go in blind is akin to suicide.”

  “What is that saying you people have?” said Garibaldi. “Ours is not to reason why? Or something like that?”

  “No one is saying that we will not accept the mission,” said Cyprianus. “We are being cautious and making certain we aren’t walking into a battle we cannot win. We win battles, not just die in them.”

  Garibaldi was growing impatient. He was showing more and more contempt for the legion with each passing moment. Aurelius wasn’t certain he could keep from saying something that might end his career or do something that might land him in prison. Garibaldi knew nothing of honor or discipline.

  “Sir,” interjected Cicero, “if I may.”

  All eyes turned towards the Praefect. Garibaldi fixed him with a gaze that would curdle milk.

  “What is it, Praefect?” said Garibaldi, his teeth clenched in anger.

  “The fighting on Haakon is over,” began Cicero. “There are not enough of the indigenous creatures left to mount any kind of offensive. I believe that your Praetorian Guards could hold the planet with the minimal security forces that are on the mining ships.”

  Garibaldi seemed to consider that thought. Aurelius wasn’t sure how many Praetorian Guards he had brought with him, but the number had to be considerable. It seems that it wasn’t just the Iron Legion that Garibaldi didn’t trust.

  “With the Praetorian Guards in charge of security,” said Cicero, “the Felix Legion could accompany the Iron Legion and act as reserves, deploying after landing zones have been secured by the dropship troops.”

  “With two legions, our chances of success are much higher,” added Cyprianus. “Having the Felix Legion as reserves allows us to commit more of our own troops to the initial drop.”

  Garibaldi frowned as he considered the information. All eyes were on him as he deliberated the idea. Cicero shot a quick glance at Aurelius, smiling with hope of a favorable outcome. After a long pause, Garibaldi spoke.

  “Fine,” he said, at last. “Both legions will proceed to the Hadrian System. Praetorian Octavius will be in overall command since he is experienced in dropship operations and deployments. Make your preparations. I want you underway in three hours.”

  “Yes sir,” said the group in unison.

  Cicero and his men looked excited at the possibility of going into battle. The four senior officers moved away from the table and began talking amongst themselves. Garibaldi picked at his teeth absentmindedly with his fingernail. Cassia stood and moved over to stand beside Aurelius, fear clouding her face.

  “Marcus,” she whispered. “If he agreed to send a second legion, then the situation is far worse than we thought. They know more than they are telling us.”

  “Is that not always the case,” said Aurelius. “We will make our plans and prepare for the battle. We shall be victorious.”

  “How can you be so certain?” she asked, a note of fear in her voice.

  “I am certain because it is our duty,” said Aurelius. “We were born for this kind of battle. Our motto says it all.”

  Cassia knew the motto as well as any legionnaire. It was driven into them since childhood. Cassia came from a family of high-ranking officers. They were always fleet officers, never serving the line of the legion. For Aurelius, it was very different. His blood was the blood of the legion. It had been the same for generations of his family. They didn’t just memorize the motto. They lived it.

  “Aut vincere, aut mori," said Aurelius. “Either conquer or die.”

  Chapter VII

  Dangerous Choices

  “Execute every act of thy life as though it were thy last.”

  - Marcus Aurelius

  Three hours later, all ships of the combined Legion Fleet were preparing for the jump into slipstream. The newer ships in the fleet could coordinate their power curves to match velocities. Although the newer ships could arrive at Hadrian much faster than the Agamemnon and her contemporaries, they would not be able to commence operations without the dropship carriers.

  Both Praetorians were on the bridge of the Agamemnon. Praetorian Octavius was giving the overall commands, while Praetorian Quintillus relayed the commands to the ships of the Felix Legion. It also worked better for them to coordinate strategy instead of relying on communications in battle. Communications could be jammed, but so long as Agamemnon remained in the fight, they would be able to continue operations uninterrupted.

  “All ships, standby for slipstream activation,” announced Octavius. “Prepare for combined top speed. Felix Legion ships prepare to match velocity.”

  “All ships showing ready and awaiting your command, Praetorian,” replied Cassia from helm control.

  “Jump, now!” called the Praetorian.

  Instantly, all ships accelerated into slipstream. The deck-plates shuddered with the sudden burst of speed, leaving the artificial gravity and the inertial suppression systems straining to keep up. The muted roar of the engines reverberated through the hull as Agamemnon reached her maximum velocity.

  “Full speed achieved,” announced Cassia. “Engine output within operational guidelines.”

  “How are the power curves holding?” asked Octavius.

  “Green lights, Praetorian,” replied Cassia without hesitation. “Engine power curves are stable and holding steady.”

  “Good,” replied Octavius, nodding. “Let’s keep it that way.”

  Most of the officers present had been there the last time they made the jump to slipstream. No one wanted a repeat of that incident. Aurelius found himself glancing around just to make certain that nothing was happening, keeping a keen eye on the engineering display. This time, there were no alarm bells. The gravitics had been stable and the engines were functioning perfectly.

  “All ships have matched velocity and are in assigned formation,” said Cassia. “Power curves are good across the fleet. Felix Legion ships report utilizing only sixty percent of available power. Estimated arrival time to the Hadrian System is nine days, seven hours and forty-three minutes at current speed.”

  “Excellent,” said Octavius.

  “We’ve made a few upgrades to the engines since you disappeared,” said Quintillus, smiling.

  “I can see that,” replied Octavius, nodding approval. “We shall have to see about getting a refit to our engines when this mission is complete.”

  “Gentlemen,” said Cyprianus, “if you no longer require our services, we will begin briefing the legion and preparing battle simulations.”

  “Make your preparations, Legatus,” said Octavius. “I want the legion ready to drop the moment we secure from slipstream. Let’s not give these bugs time to react to our arrival.”

  “Of course, Praetorian,” replied Cyprianus. “The Legio Ferrata will be ready. Praefect Aurelius will be leading the landing operations personally.”

  “Good,” said Octavius. “Praefect Aurelius will bring us the victory.”

  After delivering a crisp salute, Aurelius and Cyprianus exited the bridge and entered the lift-car. They rode in silence until they reached the Legion Command deck where Cyprianus’ office was located.

  “Marcus,” began Cyprianus, “please join me in my office for a moment.”

  The two warriors walked briskly down the corridor, scattering junior officers out of their way like a gust of wind scatters leaves. Cyprianus had long since stopped noticing the way the young officers cleared out of his path, but Aurelius still found it amusing. It showed that the younger officers had a healthy respect for their superiors.

  Once they had entered the office, Octavius took the com
fortable seat behind the desk while Aurelius awaited the invitation of his superior officer. He did not want to suggest informality when this could be a formal conversation. Out of respect, he stood until instructed to do otherwise. Instinctively, he felt himself coming to the position of attention in front of Cyprianus’ desk.

  “Sit, Marcus,” said Cyprianus with a wave of his hand.

  Since Cyprianus had used his first name instead of his rank, Aurelius knew that this conversation was more personal than official. Taking the offered seat, Aurelius still found himself seated in rigid posture in the chair. It was a habit he could no more break than he could change his eye color. It was part of who he was.

  “Relax, Marcus,” chided Cyprianus. “This is not legion business.”

  Aurelius tried to relax but found he could only lean slightly forward in the seat. Cyprianus leaned back into his chair and Aurelius could see a weight settle onto him. The Legatus seemed to age ten years right before his eyes. It was difficult for Aurelius to watch a man that he respected so much bear such a burden. Whatever was troubling the Legatus, Aurelius wanted to take that stress away from him.

  Rubbing the bridge of his nose as he looked down into his lap, Cyprianus sighed and reached into his desk drawer. Pulling out a crystal decanter and two glasses, he sat them on the table gently and forced a smile at the younger warrior.

  “Would you join me for a drink, Marcus?” asked Cyprianus.

  “Of course,” replied Aurelius.

  Pouring a generous measure of the amber liquid into the two glasses, Cyprianus replaced the crystal stopper in the decanter and sat it on the desk. Sliding one glass across the desk to Aurelius, Cyprianus picked up the other and brought it up beneath his nose to savor the aroma. The older warrior closed his eyes as a smile played across his lips. Clearly the veteran warrior was very fond of this liquid.

  “Ah, Marcus,” said Cyprianus, smiling. “You are in for a treat.”

  Aurelius brought the glass to his nose to smell it for himself. With surprise, Aurelius discovered that it was real alcohol and not the synthetic drink common in the bars on different space stations that he had visited. In fact, this one glass held more real alcohol than Aurelius had ever had in his entire life up until this point.

  “This is real alcohol,” said Aurelius. “Where did you find this?”

  “Your father and I bought this after I were first promoted to Praefect of the Iron Legion,” explained Cyprianus. “The last glass of this that I shared with someone was with your father when he was promoted to the Praetorian Guard.”

  “I am honored,” said Aurelius.

  Cyprianus took a sip from his glass and Aurelius could see the look of pleasure that filled his face. Taking that as his cue, Aurelius took a sip of his own. There was the familiar burn of the intoxicant effect, but that was the only similarity to the synthetic drinks he had tasted. There were so many layers of flavor to the real alcohol. Aurelius could taste a smoky hint of wood and something else. It was sweet and lingered on all parts of the tongue. He was certain that the look of pleasure on his face must have matched the one from Cyprianus.

  “See,” said Cyprianus. “Only the very best.”

  “What is the occasion?” asked Aurelius.

  “It is two-fold,” explained Cyprianus. “Parts good and bad.”

  “I see,” said Aurelius.

  “Allow me to explain, Marcus,” said Cyprianus. “I know that you would like to seek the hand of Centurion Gratiana, but under our circumstances you cannot ask her father’s permission.”

  “Of course,” replied Aurelius. “There is no one left for us to ask. Her father died nearly two hundred years ago.”

  “True, but there may still be a way,” explained Cyprianus. “We are all lost in this time, Marcus. We have all lost our homes, our families and our way. Yet we still have one thing that unites us all. We are all children of the Legion.”

  Marcus took another sip of the excellent beverage and pondered his words.

  “Cassia has proven herself to be a worthy child of the Legion,” added Cyprianus. “And as the Legatus Legionis, it is my honor to be the father of this Lost Legion.”

  Aurelius smiled. He was beginning to see where Cyprianus was going with his reasoning.

  “Honor is satisfied, Marcus,” said Cyprianus. “You both have the blessing of the Iron Legion. Your union will be forged in iron.”

  “How did you know what we were planning?” asked Aurelius.

  “I know your father’s Gladius as well as I know my own,” replied Cyprianus. “I saw it on her waist. I knew what you intended as soon as I saw the blade.”

  “I could think of nothing better to give her,” explained Aurelius. “I had planned on giving her my Legion of Honor, if I had won it on Haakon Prime. Now, in this time, I fear that Fabretti no longer honors the legion.”

  “It is a good thing that the Legion of Honor is not decided by Fabretti, then,” replied Cyprianus. “I showed the footage of the battle to Praetorian Octavius and Legatus Valerius of the Felix Legion. We all agreed that you more than earned the Legion of Honor. We have already submitted our recommendation to the Legion Tribunal.”

  “Have they made a decision?” asked Aurelius, leaning forward in his seat and placing the glass on the table.

  “Not yet,” said Cyprianus. “I will let you know as soon as we have an answer.”

  “Thank you, sir,” said Aurelius, rubbing his forehead distractedly with his left hand.

  “You will win your Legion of Honor,” Cyprianus assured him. “Your father would be proud of you. Since he cannot be here, then I shall be proud of you for him. You bear the sword of my son, which is only fitting since you are like a son to me. Congratulations, Marcus.”

  Aurelius didn’t know what to say. He couldn’t think of the words. Instead, he took a long sip from the glass and let the warmth of the liquid spread throughout his body. He closed his eyes and let everything sink in for a moment before speaking. When he opened his eyes, Cyprianus was leaning back in his chair waiting for him.

  “Thank you, sir,” began Marcus.

  “We are not on duty at this moment,” replied Cyprianus. “There is no need for the sir. Off duty, you may speak to me as if I were your own father. I owe him that much and more.”

  “Of course,” said Aurelius. “I am honored beyond words for this, father. If the Tribunal awards me the Legion of Honor, I will wear it in the name of both of my fathers and the name of your son.”

  “What would you do once you won it?” asked Cyprianus. “Most recipients of the Legion of Honor move on to greater things. They have their choice of duty assignments. Your father was offered the Praetorian Guards.”

  “I will stay here,” replied Aurelius. “My family is here. My blood is here. I will remain with the Iron Legion.”

  “That is why your men will follow you into the fires of hell, my son,” said Cyprianus, smiling broadly. “Your legion loves you and would die at your command because they know you would die with them.”

  “You said that there were two things you wished to speak to me about,” said Aurelius, changing the subject.

  “Yes, Marcus, although I fear the next part will not be welcome news,” said Cyprianus, the smile fading from his lips.

  “Whatever it is,” said Aurelius, frowning, “I will deal with it.”

  “We will deal with it, my son,” answered Cyprianus. “Together.”

  “Of course,” replied Aurelius, smiling.

  Reaching for the decanter, Cyprianus refilled their glasses.

  “There,” he said, “just one more. We shall save the rest for another time. I have something even better for your wedding day.”

  “Indeed,” said Aurelius, holding his glass out to be refilled.

  Once the glasses were filled and the decanter had been put back in the drawer, the two warriors raised their glasses to each other.

  “To the Iron Legion,” said Cyprianus.

  “The Iron Legion,” agreed
Aurelius, “and her Legatus. May the eagle of our standard never fall.”

  The two men clinked their glasses together and each took a long sip. Aurelius could feel the powerful liquid already working in his system. While far from drunk, he knew that his senses were clouded enough to allow him to relax. It was rare that he let himself feel this way, especially while in uniform.

  “Now, father,” said Aurelius softly. “What troubles you?”

  “You were not with us when Garibaldi briefed us about the T’kri’t’ek,” said Cyprianus, staring into the amber liquid as he swirled it around in the bottom of his glass. “You did not hear about them.”

  “They are our enemy,” replied Aurelius. “What more needs to be said?”

  “Garibaldi does not want the Legion to know what I am about to tell you,” explained Cyprianus. “They know more about the T’kri’t’ek than you were told.”

  “What do they know?” asked Aurelius, putting his glass down on the table with enough force to splash out part of the liquid.

  “They know what we are about to face,” explained Cyprianus. “Not every transmission was blocked by the missing colonies.”

  “Then why not share that with the Legion?” asked Aurelius, placing both hands on the desk.

  “Because Fabretti believes that we cannot win,” replied Cyprianus, slamming his fist into the desk. “They are expecting us to fight longer than the colonies, so that they can gather intelligence on the T’kri’t’ek. Nothing more.”

  “They are willing to throw away two entire legions just to gather intelligence!” boomed Aurelius. “What in the name of the GODS are they thinking?!”

  “They are,” said Cyprianus, his voice trembling with rage. “They do not believe that the T’kri’t’ek can be beaten without decimating the entire planet. They want to find a way to kill them without ruining the expensive terraforming that they have invested in the planets.”

  “We need to inform the legions,” snarled Aurelius. “Fabretti has no honor! The Legion deserves to know that they hold us without regard. We are less than pawns to these fools!”