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  "How come so many of them won't fight?" Asked Halbadier Mus puzzled.

  "It seems that their religion stops them from killing." replied Halbadier Camillus. "I don't understand it any more than you do. I was always told that they were a bloodthirsty lot, just look at the carnage they were responsible for over the centuries. The Crusades, Jihad and the Protestant/Catholic conflicts." Halbadier Camillus was, although rather poorly informed, the squad historical authority apart from Lieutenant Gratius.

  "Hang on, we are the good guys, and we'll fight, but the bloodthirsty bastards won't?"

  "Fucking weird ain't it?"

  "And it's our lot that slaughtered all the old folks?"

  "It's all gone a bit FUBAR hasn’t it?"

  "You're telling me! I'm getting the idea we were on the wrong fucking side the whole time!"

  The air reverberated silently with electromagnetic signals, machine’s communication unseen but effectively. The economy of death held court invisibly. The only evidence being flashing lights deep within the macabre leviathans that housed them. Millions of precise calculations, the type of which never boded well for human life were plotted and made.

  A disturbance, an itching sensation began to irritate. Awareness, held in check for the agony that it evoked stirred and mourned that which had passed causing it to slumber. Waves, waves of terrible import screeched through it. If it had teeth it would have been as nails on a blackboard. Yet the heralding would be as nothing to what they communicated and forewarned. A simple reach out was all that could be mustered in the groggy silence of awakening.

  Lieutenant Gratius' head snapped up. He had the eerie feeling that something was coming, something terrible. His soul screamed with foreboding, but he could not tell from whence the threat came. It felt all around him in the very air itself.

  "Regroup! We move NOW! We are out of here."

  As the squad formed up around the liberated prisoners Sergeant Curtius approached the spooked Lieutenant.

  "What's happening, I haven't seen you like this since we got caught in that foxhole on Rufus?"

  "I don't know, that's the problem! Whatever it is, it's coming but I don't know from where or when. All I know is that it's harder for it to get us if we keep moving!"

  "Right, we keep moving!"

  Weaving through the ruins the squad made good time; it was almost as though the Black Guard had pulled back specifically. The streets were deserted and ghost-like.

  "I don't like this. We were hard pressed through here an hour ago, now we can't even hear them. They should be taking pot-shots like crazy, our new recruits have no clue about how to use cover." hissed Sergeant Curtius.

  "Something's coming, I just know it. Something bad!" replied Lieutenant Gratius.

  The squad approached the alley, which had been their salvation earlier. They knew that a competent commander would have secured the position that had proven so vital to them, if only to stop them utilising it again.

  "At least the kids are safe, there's nothing to attack them here." commented Sergeant Curtius

  Lieutenant Gratius felt a cold shiver go right the way through his spine as he felt rather that heard the shrill whine. The rest of the squad followed his upward gaze when the high pitched sound finally reached them as well. The volume increased exponentially with each passing moment until all went quiet.

  Then the building in which the children, Halberdier Valerius and Vice-Corporal Ovidius had been safely ensconced exploded.

  Chapter 16

  Laying in the cells of the Imperial Garrison Celeris had been gripped with a deep determination not to succumb to the constant attempts to procure her confession. For she was certain that Sol Invictus had bestowed upon her the holy writ to end the life of the perverted wreck that had been the Governor. The Governor had inevitably lost the battle for life shortly after learning that, despite his wealth and power, the science to recover his genitals did not exist, and that even if it were possible he was nowhere near important enough to warrant such treatment. The lack of blood and sudden onset gangrene had finally finished him off. She had taken grim satisfaction that despite being interrupted she had completed her task. She would not admit that this action was wrong, for if Sol Invictus had not willed it, then he would not have let her succeed, nor would he have spoken to her heart.

  A hand had gently laid itself on her shoulder, and expecting more perverted attention, she growled. The hand held steady, however, as a gentle voice pierced the dark from the light that flooded into the cell.

  "Perversion may lead to the punishment of the soul, but sometimes a more physical element is required. You may rest assured that Salvius Caninus had been under investigation for some time for his flagrant abuses of Invictine lore. We were about to move, when you took that opportunity from us. The file shows him guilty, now we must decide upon you."

  "You were one of his victims weren't you?"

  Celeris nodded mutely, for such understanding from a miraculous appearance had rendered her speechless. Surely, this was the work of Sol Invictus himself, for nothing else could explain the shift in her treatment from the Empire. Her heart filled with joy at the prospect of a divine intervention and reward for her faith.

  "Very well, the record shall show that the will of Sol Invictus was served by the victim, a satisfactory result indeed. I am left, however with the problem of what to do with you, for having made this determination you are therefore blameless and yet should I leave you in your current servitude you will, no doubt be killed before the day is out. I have reviewed your record and you have a noteworthy ability to weed out the unrighteous. I therefore propose a solution that may yet end in your death, but this is not the certainty that awaits you here. What say you child?"

  Again Celerius could only nod, for this was more of a chance to survive and serve that she had hoped to have been given. An identity that was unforeseen and undreamed of was about to be bestowed upon her.

  Celeris had been taken from that place to a hall of training, where she had bestowed upon her a new name and all ties to her previous identity erased. In her training Celeris had astounded her tutors with the breadth of her knowledge of the scriptures. She had memorised the more accessible publications, which were the only ones she had been allowed access to, but she quickly mastered the rest which were placed before her. Her physical training had been more problematic, given the injuries inflicted upon her by the guards on her arrest and detention. She had hardly been able to move upon her arrival, but true to their nature the Inquisition gave no quarter, and true to hers Celeris asked for none in return. The problem compounded as she continued not to allow any of the medical staff to tend to her wounds. Eventually her recruiting officer had to be recalled from active duty to assure her that her suffering was at an end and that no further deprivations would befall her. Celeris had stood up and walked straight to the medical centre upon hearing these words, so great was her trust in this dark angel that had procured her new life. Her results improved almost immediately as the wounds cleared their infections and started to close naturally. Several scars were soon the only physical sign of her abuse. One above her right eye remained with her throughout her life and gave her a somewhat striking appearance. The discipline was in the Inquisition, much more stringent that the residence of the governor and her growing attractiveness did not attract any more attention. This she was profoundly grateful for, and she never again did crave the solicitation for intimate contact of any kind, save that intimacy that existed in her mind when terminating the existence of her victims. In such acts she found both the arousal that would normally have accompanied biological contact and the emotional connection via sharing the final moments of a living being. To this end it became her way to prologue the final agony for as long as possible, for in this the connection was prolonged and the intimacy increased.

  Her final exam, the elimination of a sub-par student had shocked even the Inquisition for the ordeal had lasted close to seven hours. Normally the Trainers wou
ld have intervened but Celeris had found a way of abducting her victim without their knowledge and had returned the following morning oddly placid, spent and covered in blood and assorted fragments of body parts. Rumours, not entirely without foundation, were spread that the corpse had to be identified via DNA profiling for not enough of the face or teeth could be found in one piece to enable an identification based on anything but the microscopic level. Her name was whispered in hushed tones around the academy as a dark legend, and her star had risen as a result.

  “Incoming! We’ve got artillery barrage incoming!” yelled Sergeant Curtius.

  The squad dived into what shelter they could find, seeking that which was achievable in as short a space of time as possible and in the opposite direction from the blast. Despite their fears and the initial violence of the assault on the building in which the children had been ensconced the air seemed suddenly still. There were no shrill whistles anymore; it was as though the explosion had concussed the world. There was no sound, no movement. Modest stillness permeated the dust-laden air.

  Pain, excruciating pain marked the passings. As the crossings occurred in the milliseconds that stretched into eternity the screams wounded with infinite care. Time held no meaning in the face of such agony and sense of betrayal. The dead, dying and living all screamed within as one. Their pain a rude awakening, a deafening mantra within and without. No slumber could survive such intensity. No Grace could pirouette on such a knife blade. Once again into action a consciousness came, born into pain, knowing worse would come, craving only a return to the oblivion from whence it came, for peace and an end to the pain.

  The realisation that no other assault was coming swept over the Squad at roughly the same time and they all crawled from the cover they had so desperately sought earlier. Each man scanned around seeking some hope that there was a survival rate, something that would crawl from the muck and dust, yet nothing came save a small trickle of blood, crimson regret crying its last.

  Lieutenant Gratius blinked the tears from his eyes and wiped the dust from his face. He stood to scan the horizon in the direction he had first heard the approach of the shells. There was but one promontory that offered the optimal range to the crater he now surveyed. One place from whence this affront to humanity could have been propagated. The artillery had to have been placed opposite the main command bunker.

  “Sergeant Curtius, what would you do now?” asked Lieutenant Gratius strangely calmly.

  “Sir?... Oh Shit you’ve got that expression on you again! Whatever you are thinking, it’s insane! I know that look.”

  “Just tell me what you would do now if you were in charge Sergeant.”

  “I’d seek to punch out through a side, either there or there.” Sergeant Curtius pointed in directions at ninety degrees to where Gratius was staring.

  “Good. Because we are not doing that.”

  “O…K… So what are we doing Sir?”

  “We take that artillery and we turn it on those who gave the order to fire on the children. They did it specifically to make us either seek escape or attack the command bunker directly. This is the one thing they will not expect.”

  “We are going to attack directly the most heavily fortified section of the line, which is able to call down artillery strikes on us? That’s fucking crazy sir!”

  “Take the prisoners that survived and take them up to lay down suppression fire near the bunker. Make as much noise as you can. Each man takes two guns, if they are available. Make the force look as large as possible. Use explosives, but be ready for the signal. Two sharp whistles down the comms. That’s when the rest of the squad have taken what we need and the strike will start. We each take some heavy weapons specialists, they will retaliate when they realise what we have done. Sort out everyone who has taken infiltration training. We take the headland by stealth.”

  Holding fast outside maximum small arms and assault weapon range Sergeant Curtius waited for a change of guards, far from wanting the smallest number of opponents engaged at a time he wanted to take out the maximum by surprise when he initiated his assault. The fewer troops left to dig in to the fortifications meant the fewer casualties his force would sustain. As always the waiting was killing his sense of calm. Once in action the pain and uncertainty would fade as time escaped into a melee of action and reaction, with little time for thought or the doubt that followed.

  Lieutenant Gratius also awaited a changing of the guard. However, he was waiting for it to finish so that his infiltrator squad could take out the sentries undiscovered. While the assault on the other side of Rome would mask some of the activities he was planning, and the ostentatious assault he had ordered Sergeant Curtius to mount would draw at least some of the troops away from this position, he still wanted to be at least part way through the process prior to the diversionary attack. The diversionary attack would wake all the troops surrounding Rome with at least some of them being drawn away from their assigned positions to re-enforce the defenders. This would enhance the chances of discovery as more troops moved in patterns not known to his infiltration unit.

  After allowing thirty minutes to elapse Lieutenant Gratius ordered the simultaneous strike from both flanks towards the sentries designed to guard from a central attack. Snipers positioned at the centre had the other guards in their sights ready to strike should it look like they would raise the alarm. Dark shadows moved silently, the half-moon allowing enough light for them to see, with the night vision gear purloined from the armoury providing assistance for darker areas. Like a pack of black hunting cats they glided towards their targets. Although Lieutenant Gratius could not see it from his observation post he knew that blackened knives had been drawn from their sheaths ready to silently dispatch the guards. Almost in perfect unison the unsuspecting soldiers of the Empire were enveloped in darkness and a few muffled grunts signalled their passing. Only a few minutes elapsed before silences firearms were used in a deadly crossfire to eliminate the remaining perimeter guards.

  Sergeant Curtius noticed that the number of mobile patches of darkness had increased; the time had come for action. He pressed the detonator for the explosives that had been secreted earlier, by the somewhat low-tech method of throwing them while there were no sentries around. Accuracy was irrelevant; the required outcome was distraction, noise and disorientation. A bloom of iridescent roses grew and flowered with concussive force, throwing soldiers from their feet and engulfing them in flame. At the same time the forces under his command opened fire at any and all targets even remotely unaffected by the blasts. Bullets screeched home, but the vast majority missed, but given the disparity of the forces ranged against each other this was nothing unusual, or many people were aiming at the same targets and given the marksmanship of the former prisoners, this was no bad thing. Flashes from stray bullets impacting on metal behind their intended targets illuminated the enemy positions.

  Investigator Celeris looked to the vidscreens as she heard the explosions and gunfire.

  “They’ve taken the bait. I knew they would retaliate against the command structure for the destruction of the children! Wait a further two minutes to allow them to get overconfident and then order the counterstrike.”

  Sheltered in the doorway of a small bunker near the artillery Lieutenant Gratius asked for the fifth time how much longer it would take to open the door to the interior that housed the remnants of the troops assigned to guard the massive war machines he hoped to capture. It was all very well to capture the guns but if there was an assault while part of his force attempted to use them he would not be able to hold and the entire plan would be placed in jeopardy.

  “The more you ask the longer it will take,” was the only response that Lieutenant Gratius received from the otherwise silent trooper that was attempting to hack into the security systems that controlled the door and subsequent alarm systems.

  Slowly the doors slid back to reveal a dimly lit corridor with a set of clear doors at the end.

  “Those are mun
itions resistant doors. Once we are through them then the fighting starts. Red Element, you take positions behind what cover you can find and provide cover fire. Blue Element, make for the sleeping quarters and eliminate all targets within. We don’t want whoever is awake to get any more support. These complexes are designed to be defensible so they will be problematic enough as it is. Gold Element, make for the mess and common areas. Use grenades to clear the rooms. You won’t be able to take the troops within any other way as you will be outnumbered. Silver Element, take the toilets. There will always be a number of troops answering nature’s call. Same drill, grenade, clear and move on.”

  As soon as the secondary doors opened, claxons flared into life, flashing hazard lights providing first shadowy cover then bright illumination. Flashes of muzzle fire erupted as targets were spotted and eliminated in deadly efficiency. Unlike the assault on the Command Bunker this attack had been planned and manned with the best troops for this kind of attack, for it was imperative action was taken accurately and economically. A squad threw themselves behind packing crates, firing as they went while three groups peeled off to either flank disappearing down side corridors in search of their objectives. The remaining troops found themselves pinned down by the return fire that had been co-ordinated, but this was their objective - to divert as much firepower towards the entrance as possible to allow the kill squads to do their deadly business.