Extinction (5 page)

As Augustus and the Praetorians broke away, we followed them back to the Novan encampment. At the same time, Carin ordered his men back to their Recons.

I didn’t trust Black to keep his word. It was obvious he resented his more powerful “ally” and that he worried about the aftermath of the battle. Augustus had been surprisingly blunt about how Carin Black would be treated. He had acted less like an ally and more like a bully, but Augustus had to know that Carin would stab him in the back if he got the chance.

We reentered the gates of Augustus’s camp. At Augustus’s order, the majority of the Praetorians disbanded, leaving only six to guard the Emperor, Maxillo included. We walked the rest of our way through the camp as evening settled into night.

We stopped outside the Emperor’s large tent. He turned to Maxillo.

“Have them wait inside for now. I’ll be back shortly. In the meantime, make yourselves comfortable.”

And with that, the Emperor walked away; Maxillo and another Praetorian peeled off from the original six to stand guard over us. Maxillo gestured toward the tent flap.

There was nothing left to do but to follow the order and go inside.

***

T
he Emperor’s tent was a world within a world. Inside its thick, canvas walls, the bustle of the camp had dimmed. However, I could still hear men shouting, hammers tacking, the wheels of carts squealing, horses neighing, and feet stomping. The air inside was thick, scented with some spicy fragrance. Intricate Persian rugs of purple and crimson covered the ground so thickly that none of the grimy tarmac of the runway was visible, or even felt, beneath my boots. Lamps and candles radiated yellow warmth, sending shadows dancing on the canvas walls bedecked with the furs of jaguars, bears, and other exotic creatures. The lavishness of the entry area made this feel less like a tent and more like a palace.

A richly clad man stood within a curtained partition that led deeper into the tent. I recognized him from Augustus’s palace, back in Nova Roma. He was the butler who had seated us during our first audience with the Emperor. He introduced himself as Zuma, and offered us chilled wine to drink. After we declined, he withdrew to the corner and stood silently.

Maxillo stood by the tent flap, his demeanor as hard as stone. The other Praetorian must have been guarding outside.

At last, Augustus returned, startling me as the tent flap whipped opened. I caught a glimpse of a few Praetorians standing outside, armor flashing by the light of torches. The flap fell, shutting out the night.

Augustus adjusted his steel breastplate. Quickly, Zuma stepped forward, to take off the Emperor’s rich, purple cape. Augustus cleared his throat as the cape was unclasped. The butler hung it by a hook along the far wall.

As the butler set to work on helping Augustus take off his armor, the Emperor faced us.

“It’s clear Black is nervous. Why wouldn’t he be, when my whole army is camped outside his walls? When I have a spaceship? I can’t predict what he will do, and that’s what’s bothering me.” Augustus paused, shrugging off the breastplate. Beneath, he wore a white, linen undershirt. “That makes reaching Bunker Six quickly all the more important.”

“Are you serious about wanting to ally with us?” I asked.

Augustus gave a small smile. “Never doubt my words, Alex. Many men have, to their peril. What I told you by the wreckage of
Gilgamesh
remains true. We must work together to ensure the future of humanity. Whoever controls this world, in the end, is a less important question. The important question is how we can
save
this world.” Augustus gestured with his head outside the tent. “Those barbarians don’t understand that, and they can’t be
made
to understand that. They only understand blood.”

None of us responded to Augustus. It had been a long day, and all I could think about was eating and sleeping.

Seeming to sense this, Augustus turned to Maxillo. “Take them to the First Cohort and see that they’re fed. I want them to see how this army works. After that, show them to an empty tent.”

Maxillo nodded, holding the tent flap open for us to walk out.

“We’ll head for the Bunker tomorrow morning,” Augustus said. “It shouldn’t be long, now.”

We headed out of the tent and into the night.

M
axillo led us outside to a campfire that wasn’t far from Augustus’s tent. Around the fire, several legionaries were eating. A table was set up nearby, upon which food was spread out: roasted pork, corn, rice, bell peppers, sliced onion, and some flat, round bread that folded. I watched the other soldiers, who wrapped the bread around the rest of the food and ate it that way. I followed their example and started to eat what was quite possibly the best thing I’d ever had.

We were allowed as much as we wanted, so I stuffed myself. It was fully dark now. Most of the legionaries were done eating and were cleaning up what remained of dinner. That left Ashton, Anna, and me sitting around the campfire while Maxillo stood a few feet off, eating his own food. I asked him what it was called. He said fajitas.

Two of the legionaries stayed behind while the rest went to their tents. They sat on stools across the fire from us. One of the legionaries had a lean face and wide eyes. The other was short, with a thick beard and a wide face. The wide-faced man offered us some cobs of corn he had been roasting on the coals. I accepted, and he tossed it to me. I caught it in the air, bouncing it around to avoid getting burned.

I quickly unwrapped the corn from its charred husk. It was yellow, almost white, in the firelight. Even though I was already full, I wanted to try it. I took a small bite. The corn juice was hot, and its flavor sweet.

“Is good?” the tall man asked.

“Yeah,” I said.

I’d had corn before, both in Bunker 108 and in Skyhome, but not roasted like this. The man nodded at Ashton and Anna, pointing to the fire. They each got some corn still roasting on the coals.

“Where are you from, friends?” the tall man asked.

“You know English?” I said.

He nodded. “Most of us...can’t. But...many...how do you say? Bosses. We know.”

“The officers, you mean.”

The man nodded again. “Yes. Officers. We speak a little.”

“You are an officer?”

“Sí,”
he answered. “This is my tenth
campaña.”

“Your tenth campaign, then. You have seen a lot of war?”

The tall man gave a bitter smile. “Yes. Too much war.
En el imperio, la guerra es eterna.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means ‘in the Empire, war is eternal.’”

“Then why don’t you quit?” Anna asked, biting into her corn.

“You mean, stop?”

With a smile, the short soldier said something in Spanish to the tall officer. They both chuckled.

“What’s so funny?” I asked.

“It’s different here,” the tall man said. “A man must give ten years of his life to the legions. Every
imperial
must.”

“Why?”

“It is
ley.”

“Ley?”

“I do not know English word for this. It is the order of Augusto
.”

Ashton explained. “It is the law in the Empire for each man to serve ten campaigns in the legion.”

“That seems like a lot,” I said.

The tall officer nodded. The shorter man just listened.

“Yes, it is harsh,” the officer said. “But Augusto protects us. Helps our families. Gives us food and...land...to give for our time here.”

“You will farm after all this?”

“Farm?” the man asked, unfamiliar. “I do not know this word.”

“You will work on the land?” Anna asked.

“Ah, yes. My wife and children, they work on the land. We have no land to...name to us. But after
esta campaña,
I will go home and the boss of the land will give land for me.”

“That is good,” Anna said.

“Yes, very good.” The man smiled. “I must only survive one campaign more. It is a hard life. My wife tells me: as long as there are men, there are wars.”

“Will there ever be peace in the Empire?” Anna asked.

“La paz?”
The man shook his head. “No. We have another...
dicho
...in our land:
Sólo los muertos han visto el final de la guerra.”

“What does that mean?” Anna asked.

The officer flashed a rueful smile. “Only the dead have seen the end of war.”

“That’s a little dark,” Anna said.

“A little dark, yes. Also, much true.” The man smiled again. “You must forgive me. I am something of...a philosopher. I think. Too much, I think. When you march, you only think. And yes...I know something of war. More than most men know.”

It grew quiet for a moment before I asked the campaigner another question.

“Do you ever get to see your family?”

The man shook his head. “In spring and summer, my life belongs to the Emperor. In fall and winter, my life belongs to my family. Is... same for all men in the legion.”

“You campaign only in spring and summer?”

“Yes. Every year is the same.”

I looked at the Praetorians guarding us, staring into the distance, never breaking their stance.

“What about for
them?”
I asked.

The man laughed.
“Los pretorianos?
They are not men. They are machines. They do not have families, they do not have women. But they are rich. Yes, very.”

“What good is being rich if you cannot enjoy it?” Anna asked, finishing her corn.

The tall officer smiled. “You have much wisdom. But
los pretorianos...
their promise is twenty years. They train from a young time for...honor. After twenty years, they earn many riches and live like kings. There are few who live for twenty years. Maybe some. Many...many have girlfriends. Secret families. They do not have permission for this.”

“What happens if they get caught?” I asked.

The officer laughed. “You ask too much, little
americano!”

He took a swig from his canteen. The way he coughed afterward suggested it didn’t hold water. He held the canteen out to me, but I shook my head.

“You must have seen many things in all your years on campaign,” Anna said.

The man’s eyes lightened in remembrance. “Yes. Many things. Most bad.” He looked at the both of us. Ashton looked on silently. “I am Carlos. This man...” He nudged the shorter soldier, whose eyes were closed. He woke with a start. “He is Horacio.”

We introduced ourselves. Once we had, the man began to tell us his story in his broken English: of far-off jungles southeast of the Empire’s borders, how Augustus wanted to conquer the wild tribes there, but could never break through the trees. He wanted the forests for the medicines he could find inside. He wanted to go south, to the Canal, wherever that was.

“What is south of the Canal?” I asked.

“No sé,”
the man said. “Nobody knows, but maybe Augusto does. Yes. I think, maybe, he does. Other countries, I would guess.
El imperio...
we are the biggest and the strongest. Augusto has even mastered the art of building ships, for the water. He could not ride them here. Too many storms.”

The man talked about the wars he’d fought in – of foreign cities, high mountains, dark forests, and the beautiful women he had met. The food he had eaten. The riches he had won. The deep blue of the Pacific, and the bright blue of the Atlantic. Crystalline white beaches, stained with men’s blood. He talked about a tribe he called
los salvajes,
who lived in the Yucatan, and how they fought with bows and arrows, and even with such primitive weapons, it had taken two campaigns for Augustus to conquer them.

“The Empire is big,” Carlos said. “Bigger than even I know. I have seen much of it, but not all.”

I would have told him of our foray into the Empire, but Maxillo held up a hand, interrupting our conversation.

“It is time for you to sleep.”

We bid our farewells to Carlos and his silent friend, Horacio, who had fallen asleep by the light of the fire.

“It was good to meet you,
americanos,”
Carlos said.

We followed Maxillo past several tents. The dirt roads were mostly empty. Most of the legionaries would be exhausted by this time of night, leaving only the watchmen. We passed Augustus’s tent, which was dark. Even the Emperor was asleep.

Maxillo led us away from the tents, toward the far wall.

“I am taking you to the latrines, where you can relieve yourselves,” Maxillo said. “After that, I will take you to your tent.”

We did just that before we regrouped to head back to the center of the Imperial encampment. We passed a couple dozen or so large tents before we came to one that had two purple-caped Praetorians guarding its entrance. They parted upon seeing us approach.

“I’ll wake you at dawn,” Maxillo said.

The chief Praetorian left us behind. There was nothing left but to enter the tent. Once inside, I saw in the dimness that three cots had been made up. It was chilly within, and already the heat I had absorbed from the fire had escaped into the surrounding air. Thick wool blankets had been provided for each of us.

We settled in for the night. I shut my eyes. As the minutes passed, the noise from the camp outside dimmed.

***

I
was flying.

It was night, and below I could see a Recon speeding across a fungal plain. Behind, a swarm of crawlers surged, clipping at the Recon’s tail. Light flashed from the turret. Some of the crawlers were felled, but it wasn’t enough.

I swooped down from the sky. I realized then that I wasn’t the one flying, but Askal. I was seeing the world through his eyes.

The mass of crawlers approached the Recon, oblivious to the death from the sky. With a roar, Askal outstretched his legs. I could
feel
him curl his long claws in preparation to skewer his first victim. With a crash, Askal swept two crawlers from their scuttling legs. They shrieked as they were tossed upward, sailing through the air and landing with thuds on the fungus below. The fungus seemed to absorb their impact, and the crawlers rebounded into the air, landing once more on spindly legs. Both gave themselves shakes before turning around and chasing after the Recon once again.