“Gracias.”
“De nada, mi amigo.”
After taking a sip of the hot, black coffee, I tucked into the porridge. It was good, but nothing could have topped the fajitas from last night. It was spicy and sweet at the same time from the corn and chopped jalapeño, while having the sharp taste of red onion and the savory taste of pork. Even though it was basically a way to get rid of the leftovers from last night, I still scraped the bowl clean. Horacio smiled and pointed to the pot, telling me to have seconds. He seemed pleased I liked it so much.
I filled my bowl halfway, and some of the legionaries went back for seconds.
The morning was quiet. All around the camp, other groups of men, usually of ten, ate breakfast around their own fires. Everyone’s schedules must have been similar. The young legionaries talked and joked in Spanish, though the old ones ate silently. They wore leather armor, mostly, something that would be useless against the Reapers, who had guns. Many of the men had machetes strapped to their belts. The armor was dusty and gritty, as much as the men themselves were.
I wondered why Augustus wanted us to see how his army operated. Maybe it was to give us a sense of his power? It was interesting to see how it all worked, whatever the reason.
In time, breakfast was over. The day had brightened, and Carlos told us that he and his men would clean up, and that we should go see the Emperor. After thanking the legionaries, we left the men of the First Cohort behind.
The sky was now a subdued red. There was a lot of dust here, mostly from the movement of soldiers. We passed groups of men, even an entire century marching toward the front gate. They carried long spears and shields of thin metal, the shield fronts painted red with the Roman numeral IV. I was beginning to wonder if Augustus’s army only had primitive weapons like spears and shields, when another group of soldiers passed, toting rifles. These men had purple plumes in their helmets, signifying a higher rank. Not all the soldiers got to carry guns, probably because their supply was limited, but I supposed even a soldier with spear and shield could be of use, with others in great enough numbers.
I didn’t know how many men Carin Black had, but at least a few thousand, counting all the gangs under his command.
We stopped in front of Augustus’s opulent tent. Maxillo went inside as soon as we arrived. We stood outside a moment before Maxillo ushered us in.
We walked inside, finding ourselves once again in the lap of luxury. The Emperor sat at the low-lying table, over which spread a detailed map of Los Angeles. Augustus stared at the map intently, holding a porcelain cup of coffee in his left hand. At our entrance, his eyes turned upward.
“I trust your breakfast was good?”
We said that it was. Zuma rushed to a cabinet standing against the left wall of the tent, and there filled three detailed, porcelain cups with coffee. He then took a small container, adding a dab of golden, viscous liquid to each. I realized it was honey.
Zuma carried one cup at a time, handing the first to Ashton. Ashton looked at its contents skeptically, but after a moment, took a sip. Anna was served next. She ignored the coffee. I took mine last of all.
Augustus, very carefully, began to roll up the map as I took a sip of the sweet coffee. He handed the map to Zuma, who held a cylindrical, leather tube. Tenderly, Zuma placed the rolled-up map inside the tube, where it would remain safe and unspoiled by the environment. He went to the cabinet and stored the tube on the upper shelf. He closed the door and locked it with a key hanging from his neck.
“Here we are again,” Augustus said, beginning the conversation. “Is the coffee good?”
“Yes,” Ashton said.
Augustus smiled. “I am glad, my friend. Grown only in the mountains north of Nova Roma. It is my favorite.” Augustus took another sip, savoring the flavor. “Let’s get down to business. I want you to see that I am genuine in my offer of friendship. I hope after a good night’s rest, you are still committed to working together as I am.”
“Whatever,” Anna said. “Let’s just get started.”
Augustus said nothing, taking another dignified sip of coffee. Zuma stared daggers at Anna for her lack of respect. Maxillo gave her a stony stare. Anna looked as if she didn’t care.
“It’s alright,” Augustus said. “In fact, I appreciate such bluntness, as it is very lacking among my own governors and advisors.” Augustus drained the last of his coffee and handed the cup to Zuma, who took it with a bow. “We are ready to leave, upon the arrival of Captain Sparks. We should have enough time to rescue Perseus and begin preparations for the Radaskim attack.”
As if his name were a summons, Jonas Spark entered the tent. His blond, spiky hair was wild and his black-rimmed glass hung askew. Duct tape held the frame together at the nose — after many years, the glasses had seen a lot of punishment, and it was surprising they had lasted so long. He wore khaki cargo pants and a white shirt overlaid with a blue vest.
“You called for me, Princeps?”
“Yes,” Augustus said. “Is everything ready to depart?”
Sparks nodded. “Yes, Emperor. Orion is ready to fly when you are.”
Sparks appeared even more disheveled than the first time I’d seen him; apparently, he’d gotten little sleep. Hard to imagine, since he had stayed on the ship, where the accommodations were more comfortable than the camp.
“In future,” Augustus said, “try not to carouse on the night before a major mission. Everything depends on this, as I’ve already told you.”
Jonas’s face blanched, but there was the hint of a smile on his face. “Yes. Sorry, Princeps. I’ll keep that in mind.”
Anna shook her head as Ashton stared at Sparks. The Emperor’s tone suggested that it wasn’t his first time reprimanding Sparks. Judging by Jonas’s unrepentant features, he didn’t care.
“It’ll take a couple of hours to reach Bunker Six,” Jonas said. “Everything’s ready.”
“Good,” Augustus said brusquely. “Then let us depart.”
We walked with Augustus, his Praetorians, and Jonas Sparks to the west side of camp, exiting through the gate we had entered yesterday. The gate was opened to reveal the airport terminal and its boarding tunnels outstretched. The legionaries had set up outposts around the massive building. Mounds of sandbags rose from the tarmac, behind which guards took shelter.
We walked until we arrived at the terminal’s entrance. While we had been sleeping, Augustus had set up a long perimeter of sandbags in front, behind which yet more legionaries were sheltered. There were hundreds of Imperial soldiers here. The sandbags would be more useful against bullets than crawlers.
Maybe, though, that had been the Emperor’s intent.
We walked inside the terminal. We weaved our way through the building, until we arrived at the stairwell we had come down yesterday. Most of the Praetorians stayed behind while Maxillo took the lead, followed by Augustus and Sparks. Ashton, Anna, and I came next, followed by six more Praetorians. This meant the blond, second-in-command Praetorian was in charge of the guards left behind. I still didn’t know his name.
When we reached the top of the stairwell, Maxillo opened the door, revealing red daylight. Orion was parked, just where Jonas had left it, on the large helipad. We walked onto the flat rooftop.
Jonas raced up the boarding ramp, and entered the code into the keypad. The door hissed open, letting out a stream of air. Everyone entered the ship. When the last Praetorian had gone in, the door slid shut.
We seated ourselves in the wardroom while Sparks, Augustus, and Maxillo made their way to the bridge. The rest of the Praetorians found handholds on the bulwarks they could grasp, in preparation for lifting off.