Aimee let out a long sigh. “Your prisoners, Augustus? This is my town. I own every prisoner. You’re only welcome as long as you understand that.”
He leaned forward on the table. “Jackson is my property.”
“We’re not in ancient Rome, and your mother ship is gone,” she said, looking down her nose. If they were alone in the room, he wouldn’t think twice about slitting the bitch’s throat. “Unity has no slaves, only prisoners.”
Aimee backed away and stood behind the two men and large creature at the end of the room. Baliska hopped a couple of steps forward. Jackson scowled at Augustus. They would pay for this contempt.
“Who’s the freak?” the man with the red hair asked Charlie.
Augustus smashed his fist on the table and pointed at the newcomer. “Who is this cretin?”
“I’m Denver Jackson. Who are you?”
“Jackson… you must be Charlie’s bastard.” Feeling betrayed and out of the loop, he couldn’t contain a sudden surge of extra anger.
He picked up a wine cup and threw it against the wall.
Orange wine splashed everywhere as the goblet bounced off and landed by his feet. “His son!? Why wasn’t I informed of his presence?”
The conniving went way deeper than Augustus expected. These people would pay with their lives.
Charlie put his arm around Denver. “Son, meet Augustus. A supposed Roman emperor, chief croatoan ass kisser and loser of empires.”
Augustus thought about picking up a china plate and throwing it at Charlie’s face, but decided against it. He brought muscle with him, no need to get his hands dirty by fighting the peasants. “Is he really your son, Charlie? Gregor told me he’s a bastard. The red hair leads me to believe that lazy piece of shit told the truth.”
Denver made to launch forward, but Charlie held him back.
“You’re testing my patience,” Aimee said. “Do you know anything about an attack on me this morning?”
Augustus sneered. She had already tested his patience to its limit. “I can think of at least a hundred people who would like you dead. You may not realize it, but you’re not as universally liked as you think you are, nor half as clever. The underclass listen to me. I keep them content instead of letting them revolt.”
Aimee’s brow furrowed. “How is that even possible? You’ve only lived here for a few weeks. Before that, you were just an occasional visitor. Most have never even mentioned your name. I think you’re letting your ego get to you again.”
He may have exaggerated his position, but he would convince more of the population of her meddling and duplicity.
After the failed attempt on her life, he needed more time and leverage.
Charlie Jackson would do for now. If she had any respect for ancient law, Aimee would not resist. “I’m taking my prisoners back to their cells. You know it’s my right to do so.”
Aimee said, “If you want them so much, I will allow you to fight for them in the arena. You versus Charlie or Baliska.”
If she had any noble blood, she would fight him in the arena. Her suggestion proved her low breeding.
Augustus snapped his fingers and pointed at Charlie. “Take him back to the ludus. He’s my property, and I claim him back.”
His two guards moved forward, either side of Augustus, their sickles raised.
“This is your final warning,” Aimee said. “How dare you come in here with armed men and threaten my authority, especially after your little stunt earlier.”
“You threaten authority by dismissing tradition and respect. Do the right thing and make me an offer for your new ally. Until then, he remains under my control.”
Both Jacksons picked up pieces of cutlery from the table and hunched in anticipation. Baliska reached for his thigh.
“Grab him,” Augustus said.
His men slowly approached Charlie.
“Baliska, now,” Aimee said.
Baliska drew his sword from his thigh and leapt forward, raising the blade. Augustus fumbled under his robe for his dagger while backing away.
Doctore lifted his sickle to meet the blow. The weapons clanked against each other. Baliska reacted first, taking another quick swing before Augustus’ man could raise his weapon. The sword buried deep into the side of his neck and he fell sideways.
Doctore briefly gurgled and twitched while a dark red pool quickly formed around his top half.
One of the ludus guards staggered back and looked at Augustus with a blood-freckled face and fear in his eyes. “What now?”
Baliska advanced.
Augustus pushed the guard forward and fell back. His heel caught the bottom of his own robe and he lost his balance. He gasped for air after his back slammed against the stone surface.
The dagger slipped from his hand and skidded away.
The guard cowered behind his sickle as Baliska hacked at his leg. He screamed, dropped his weapon, and crumpled to the floor, clutching his calf. The alien strode over to him, held up its sword with both hands, and thrust it down into his chest, killing him instantly.
“Enough,” Aimee shouted. Baliska returned to his position behind her.
Augustus scrambled to his feet and repositioned his mask. He edged in the direction of the entrance. “I never meant for this to happen. The weapons were just for show. I gave my men strict orders not to use their weapons. This wasn’t my fault.”
“Baliska, take Augustus to the courtyard cells,” Aimee said. “I’m sick of hearing his bullshit.”
Augustus stood up straight. No matter what happened, he vowed to keep his dignity. “There’s no need for this. Think of what I’ve done for Unity. I protected it. I’ve provided entertainment. What has Charlie Jackson ever done?”
Aimee encouraged Baliska forward with a casual wave of her hand. “He’s going to do more than you ever could. You’ll appear in the arena tomorrow against three croatoan harvester drivers. They came in fresh today.”
The alien bounded over and grabbed Augustus by the shoulder. He briefly struggled against the revolting beast until a glove clamped around his other shoulder, holding him firmly in a vice-like grip.
“If you aimed to humiliate me, it’s worked,” Augustus said, still hoping he could talk his way out of it. “Can we put an end to this silliness?”
“Do you mind if I walk with them to the cells?” Charlie said. “I’ve got a bit of unfinished business with him.”
“Be my guest,” Aimee said.
Baliska ripped Augustus off his feet and dragged him out of the room. He couldn’t believe how they treated him. The oldest surviving member of the human race, a former emperor, no less!
If he got out of this in one piece, Aimee, the Jacksons and Baliska would end up in several pieces and tossed into the garbage dump behind his ludus.
As his feet scraped along the stone, one of his sandals fell off.
Charlie, strutting close behind, picked it up and smiled down at him. “What was it you said? Did you really think you’d get the better of me?”
Augustus attempted to spit through the mouth hole in his mask. “They’ll see you for exactly what you are, and I’ll be waiting. Birds will peck out—”
Aimee and Denver left her chamber and followed along the corridor.
Baliska dragged him into the courtyard.
The croatoans on the rampart looked down and clicked with excitement. A man opened a door to one of Aimee’s cells. Baliska shoved Augustus toward it.
“Wait,” Charlie said. “Put him on his knees.”
The creature forced him down. He winced after his knees buckled and slammed against the cobbles. Charlie approached in front of him and held out his sandal. “Here’s your sandal back.”
For a terrible moment, Augustus thought the bastard would inflict the humiliation on him that he carried out during their first meeting in Unity. He slipped the sandal around his foot, nodded and said through gritted teeth, “Thank you, I suppose.”