Travis Starnes
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The Depths of Neptune - Chapter 23
🕑 Added 2023-05-01 03:51:39 +0000 UTCLegion Training Camp
“Consul, you made it,” Velius greeted, riding up to Ky and his small party.
“I said I would. I’m excited to see what you’ve done here,” Ky replied.
“I have my command up on that small hill, which offers a splendid view of the training field, especially for you. Let the centurion lead you up there while I get the men set for a demonstration,” Velius instructed, gesturing to the aide sitting on horseback beside him.
Ky and his group trailed the centurion as Velius cantered away enthusiastically. The legate was correct, the modest incline provided an ideal vantage point for observing the bustling activity below. Ky watched as the men scattered throughout the vast open field began responding to commands, assembling in orderly marching columns. One of the legate’s other aides galloped briskly towards the fortified camp in the distance, returning ten minutes later, accompanied by teams of horses hauling three cannons and a group of unarmored legionnaires sprinting behind them.
It wasn’t until Ky saw the artillerymen that he realized the lines of rifle wielding legionnaires still donned their armor. It was peculiar to see men clad in segmented armor while brandishing long rifles with their bayonets already affixed; a bizarre fusion of two eras coexisting in the present. He had grown so accustomed to the sight of men in traditional Roman armor that the incongruity hadn’t struck him until he saw the unarmored artillerymen, who appeared more in line with his expectations for men wielding such weaponry.
Ky and Sophus had extensively debated the subject of the legionnaires’ armor. If they confronted adversaries equipped with similar arms, it wouldn’t be a concern, as the armor couldn’t stop a proper rifle round, and shedding it would facilitate marching and fighting for the soldiers. However, for the time being, they would engage men still wielding swords and spears, against which the armor would undoubtedly offer protection. Sophus had contended that they should adhere to his historical files, arguing that the enemy was unlikely to engage in melee combat and, given the numerical disadvantage, the armor would be of little help in keeping the legion alive even if they did. Abandoning armor production would also free up foundries to manufacture more necessary weapons.
Though Ky believed the AI was likely correct on both counts, he considered the psychological aspect of the armor. The legionnaires were already grappling with numerous changes in their combat tactics, and their armor provided a sense of familiarity. Ky wasn’t concerned about the weight of the armor during marches, as these men had been marching in such gear for quite some time. Furthermore, there remained a possibility that they would find themselves in hand-to-hand combat, which was why Velius had incorporated shieldmen in the front rank. Ultimately, Ky conceded that they would have to abandon the armor at some point, but for now, he thought, this could work. He’d left the decision up to Velius, who’d clearly chose to continue using the armor for the time being.
It took nearly thirty minutes, but at last, Velius came riding back up the hill to rejoin them. Ky had to admit, the presentation was nothing short of spectacular.
The two columns marched forward, two abreast, until the piercing sound of a bugle call resonated through the air. With remarkable precision, the clusters spread out into battle lines four men deep. As promised, the first line comprised shieldmen armed with gladii, while the rear three ranks bore long rifles resting on their shoulders, resembling the spears of a phalanx as they advanced.
The line appeared considerably thinner than those that would have been employed before. Rather than tight cohort-sized units, they were more dispersed, with each century functioning as an independent unit and a slight gap between them—save for three spots where the break was more substantial. Additionally, there were three centuries positioned slightly behind the rest, evenly distributed along the line, seemingly serving as a reserve force.
Ky observed as the men halted, and the front shield line dropped to their knees, allowing space for the rows behind them to fire. The reason for the three larger gaps quickly became apparent when horse teams rode up and executed a tight arc, stopping when the cannons were roughly aimed in the direction of the imaginary enemy. As soon as the horses ceased movement, the artillerymen unlimbered the guns, leaving the wheeled caisson containing the guns’ ammunition and shells still attached to the horses. In under a minute, the men had rolled the guns forward into the gaps in the line.
A bugle call reverberated, and the front-rank rifles descended in a somewhat uneven line, discharging their weapons. The shots were not perfectly synchronized, as there were a few intervals between this or that century, but within a five-second window, the entire front rifle line had fired and then knelt as the second rank’s rifles lowered.
As the second rifle rank unleashed their fire, the cannons boomed, their thunderous roars nearly drowning out the sounds of the second line firing, followed by the third rifle rank’s discharge. Just as the first rifle line sprang back up, a bugle sounded, halting their fire. The entire sequence had taken perhaps thirty seconds, and it was evident that it could almost instantly recommence. For sustained fire, that was rather impressive, slower than the three rounds a minute rate indicated in Sophus’s records from their history, but noteworthy nonetheless.
“You chose to go with a lighter sustained fire over heavier volleys from the centuries as a whole?” Ky asked.
“Yes, I discussed it with Bomilcar before he left, and we’ve conducted trials with both patterns. Surprisingly, having the entire line reload and reset proved to be slower on a rounds-per-minute basis. We concluded that continuous fire would be more effective in repelling or slowing a charge than concentrated volley fire, which might be more advantageous against an enemy employing the same strategy and both sides experiencing the same lag time. Furthermore, to make that work, we’d have to abandon the front shield wall since it necessitates the front rank to kneel.”
“You understand this type of formation won’t endure for long. Once we have enough guns, the benefits of having additional men firing will outweigh the minimal protection offered by the shield wall. The ability to rapidly eliminate more of the enemy from a distance will be more valuable.”
“Yes,” Velius said, nodding thoughtfully. “That much became evident early on. However, the shield wall does provide some extra protection for now, and the alternative would be to have them waiting behind the lines to pick up fallen weapons. Once we have sufficient rifles, the transition will be simple enough for the men to learn, so there isn’t really a downside.”
“I see,” Ky replied, his tone neutral.
In truth, he thought Velius was likely correct. The tactics they were employing now didn’t deviate significantly from those they would use once they had enough guns. The legate wasn’t wrong there.
The artillerymen swiftly limbered up their cannons and moved them aside as the cavalry thundered through the gaps left in the cannons’ wake. The timing was impeccable, but a brief window of vulnerability emerged, as the rifles had to cease firing once the cavalry charged through and suddenly obstructed their aim.
“That seems like a risky maneuver,” Ky observed.
“This is only to be executed once their line starts to crumble, but they are still not close enough to exploit the gaps in our formation. We would initiate this if we noticed their cohesion deteriorating to the point where it was unlikely they could reassemble their ranks before our cavalry could strike. We have distinct signals for all left or all right flank attacks, where they maneuver around either side, or a split flank attack where they emerge on both sides. There are more nuanced commands, such as flank and drive for the center or slicing along their formation’s edges, allowing our guns to continue firing, for instance.”
“You’ve really done good work taking the tactics I gave you and adapting them to suit our needs.”
“Thank you, Consul. However, much of the credit must go to Bomilcar. The moment he witnessed the first rifles being test-fired and the devastation they caused, he was brimming with ideas on how to make that work for us.”
“Good. I’m glad to see you two have started working better together.”
“It’s more accurate to say that I’ve learned to work better with him. He has always been professional, and all I can do is extend my apologies to you for my stubbornness.”
“You’re forgiven. We all make mistakes, and you were genuinely doing what you believed was best. Though, you should probably apologize to him as well.”
“I already have.”
“Good, good. Well, I must say I’m thoroughly impressed with what I see here. Let’s go watch some of your men’s target practice and determine if they can actually hit their mark from these intricate formations you’ve devised,” Ky suggested, a hint of playful challenge in his voice.
***
Devnum
“Llassar, it’s a pleasure to see you,” Medb greeted with feigned warmth as she opened the door to the quarters she shared with Cormac. “Please come in.”
“We need to have a conversation about Cormac,” Llassar said firmly.
“Why? Has something happened?” She asked, her face a mask of false concern.
“You can drop the act,” Llassar said. “I’m not a naive young man you can lead around by his nose like some kind of prize bull.”
“You assume it’s his nose I’m leading him by,” Medb retorted, the sing-song voice she’d been using gone. “What do you want?”
“I want you to stop meddling in Cormac’s affairs. I know you’re behind all of the demands he’s been making, and I can only imagine what else you’ve been filling his head with.”
“I’m simply trying to adjust to this new life you’ve thrown me into. You could have left me to help my people, but instead, you marry me off and bring me to this place. I know I don’t have the power to get my life back, so all I can do is make the best of what I have now. You told me to be his wife, so that’s what I’m trying to do.”
“You’re also planting ideas in his head, pushing him to request a command for himself. I can only guess you’re trying to get him killed off to free yourself of him.”
“If you’re concerned about him being frustrated by not getting an opportunity to prove his worth, that’s your issue, not mine. I’m not implanting any notions. His father was a warrior who claimed his throne; do you believe he requires me to persuade him to take a more active role in his life? He’s a headstrong, young man. I’m simply supporting him, because he’s right. If I were in his position, I’d demand the same.”
“You aren’t going to rule through him,” Llassar declared.
“No. I’ll rule alongside him, and for that to happen, he must be alive, mustn’t he? Are you accusing me of attempting to control his throne through him or wishing him dead to escape this marriage? It can’t be both.”
“I’m accusing you of trying to influence him. I’m trying to teach him how to be a leader, and I can’t do that with you whispering in his ear. If you keep interfering, his father will find out and he will have your head. You aren’t going to control him for your own purposes, and the sooner you realize that the better your chances of survival will be.”
“I’m not trying to do anything but be a wife.”
“You’ve been warned, Medb. Stop now,” Llassar cautioned..
As he turned to leave her quarters, he could feel Medb’s eyes boring into him. Her message was clear. She had no intention of stopping. Llassar knew Cormac was smitten with his new bride, so having his father kill her would only make matters worse. That option would be reserved as a last resort, in case she went too far. Until then, he’d have to find another way to address this.
***
“You have to keep cleaning the surfaces with this antiseptic every time a patient is released,” Ky said, annoyed to be having the same conversation for what felt like the hundredth time. “Doing it once doesn’t make it completely clean for all time.”
“Then what’s the point?” the physician countered, clearly irritated. “IIf these small demons can be put here at any time, what’s the point?”
“They’re not …” Ky started to say and stopped, working hard to keep in his sigh. “They can come in on anything. Other patients, you, tools you might not have sterilized well enough, which can include the bedding. It can grow on its own if a wound starts to fester, or even come in on insects. We can’t keep it all away, but the more we do keep away the better chance the patient has of recovering. I’m tired of having this conversation. We have these new rules in place for a reason. The physicians who follow them have nearly half the number of dead patients as you do, and it’s because you refuse to change the way you do things.”
“Or it’s because they put a curse on me to drive away my business.”
“They didn’t …” Ky started, when Lucilla’s voice rang out in his head, drowning out whatever he was thinking to say.
“Ky, come to my father’s chambers now. He’s … something’s wrong.”
Her voice was full of terror.
“Just do it. I’ll send people to check on you, and if you keep this up, you will be barred from working on patients inside the Empire.”
Before the physician could answer, Ky turned and stormed out, breaking into a run as soon as he exited the cramped hospital. For him, it was closer to a jog, but he didn’t want to leave his guards behind. They already looked concerned at his sudden dash toward the palace and he didn’t want to cause them, or any other onlookers, to worry that something terrible was happening.
“Lucilla, what’s happening?” he asked as he ran, but she didn’t answer. “Lucilla.”
“Her comm unit is still active, Commander, and I am picking up other people’s voices very near her.”
“Do you know what’s happening?”
“It is unclear. She is talking to a physician, but I was not monitoring her unit until she contacted you. She has asked that I allow her privacy unless there is something urgent, you are trying to contact her, or one of a selection of keywords is said that might pertain to work she would need me for.”
“I see.”
Sophus had recently asked questions during one of Lucilla and Ky’s more … intimate moments, which had upset his wife greatly. Ky hadn’t known she’d talked to the AI about it directly, but it didn’t surprise him. Ky had no embarrassment about Sophus’s interaction, but he’d lived with the AI in his head most of his adult life and was comfortable with that, for Sophus, there was no emotional reaction, good or bad, from overhearing their activities. Lucilla had a habit of humanizing it, which maybe caused her to see Sophus as closer to human, as far as thoughts and emotions went.
It wasn’t a long run, even keeping his sprint at more or less a standard human level, and a few minutes later Ky vaulted up the stairs, three at a time, arriving at the Emperor’s quarters, Lucilla rushing to him as he burst through the doors.
“Ky, he’s … something’s wrong.”
“I’ll look at him,” Ky said, shooing away the servant who was mopping the Emperor’s brow.
The Emperor looked bad. Ky knew he’d been fighting some kind of illness recently and had to ask Lucilla to sit in on his duties multiple times over the last month, but all evidence had pointed to some kind of virus, based on the Emperor’s symptoms. Ky’s nanites regularly destroyed various viruses that attacked the respiratory and digestive systems, which was a testament to how many existed around them all the time. Seeing the Emperor now, however, Ky realized he and Sophus’s diagnosis had been wrong.
He was visibly sweating in spite of the cool fall breeze coming through the window and his skin had a distinct yellowish tint to it.
“Jaundice is a sign of kidney failure, especially when coupled with his other recent symptoms.”
“How is he having kidney failure?” Ky sub-vocalized. “The medical patch we applied should have fixed any damage to the kidneys while its nanites were still active, even genetic ones. There hasn’t been enough time for environmental factors to do this much damage after it was repaired or for something like cancer to grow.”
“Without access to a full medical bay, it is impossible to tell. It is possible that some small portion of the poison he was given wasn’t completely removed. Given its low dosage, or unintended alteration by the nanites, it could have remained in his system, slowly causing damage to his kidneys over time. That would explain his fevers, difficulty breathing, sleeplessness, and nausea prior to this incident. All are common early symptoms of kidney failure which, if left untreated, could fail rapidly once they reached a tipping point. Especially if the poison was still in effect.”
“How did the nanites miss some of the poison?”
“While the medkit is a powerful tool, the nanites are not tuned to a specific person’s genetics and would almost certainly not carry the base programming to identify an obscure ancient toxin. They isolated and removed anything that fits a broad profile, but if there were mutations or slight variations, some of the toxins could have remained. They also can only repair to a broad human template, but again, are unable to fix more specific problems that might not match that template. They are meant for emergencies. Any person treated with a medkit is advised to seek more directed medical assistance as soon as possible for that reason.”
“I thought you were monitoring the nanites,” Ky said.
“I was, but there was a limit to what I could do besides monitor their functions, and a limit to the types of information fed to me from the nanites because it is assumed to be unaided by AI control. They aren’t fitted with the necessary transmitters, which means there is limited access to the nanites beyond the informational data streams that are in place.”
“What about …” Lucilla started to say out loud, and then stopped as her eyes darted to their guards and servants gathered near the doorway of the room.
Sophus had included her in the conversation it was having with Ky, but she realized, almost too late that no one else was, which would have made anything else she might have said concerning.
“Leave us. All of you,” Ky said, adding the last part when his and the Emperor’s guards didn’t move to follow the servants out.
“It’s alright. Please give us some time to sit with my father,” Lucilla said to her father’s guards, who still looked hesitant.
Ky appreciated their sense of duty. They’d seen Ky with the Emperor innumerable times, and he was now the Emperor’s son-in-law, and still, they were hesitant to leave their liege’s side. Lucilla’s request, apparently, was enough to prod them to step outside, although Ky was fairly certain they wouldn’t have moved far from the doorway.
“Can’t you give him some of the small machines you put in me? They were able to heal my stab wound which, according to Sophus, should have been fatal.”
“I’m sorry, but no, Lucilla. If this is kidney failure, which the symptoms strongly indicate, even the introduction of altered nanites would not be enough to repair them. Ky’s nanites, which are grown with his genetic structure hard-wired into their core memory, would be able to heal his, but the ones passed to you are altered, with much of that core memory blocked, to allow them to repair you without causing damage by confusing your biological systems with his. While it is true your wounds would have been fatal, none of it was damage that your body couldn’t repair on its own if you were able to survive the blood loss. The nanites can speed up the repairs your body would already be able to do and minimize scarring, but they cannot replace your organs. Or in this case, your father’s.”
“But it could still help. Please, all you have to do is kiss him, right, and you’ll transfer the machines to him. They might be able to help.”
“Again, I’m sorry, Lucilla, but that isn’t possible. I cannot hold modifications of two subjects simultaneously, and any modifications would transmit to the nanites in your system. If we waited a few weeks for the nanites in your system to degrade and flush out, I could generate a new profile for your father, but I don’t believe we have the time for that.”
“But you have to help him,” Lucilla said.
“I’m not kissing Ky,” the Emperor, who had woken, said.
“Father,” Lucilla said, circling around Ky and dropping to his side. “How are you?”
“Like I could go win fame and glory in the arena,” he said, with a weak chuckle that devolved into coughs.
“We have to help him,” Lucilla said, a tear breaking free and rolling down her cheek.
“I know. There are some things I can try, but …”
“It’s not likely to work,” the Emperor said, finishing the statement Ky didn’t want to say.
“No, Princeps. I’m sorry. I thought the medkit would heal you completely, but I was wrong. It healed enough, but either there was poison left in your body or damage that was unhealed, and all it did was hide the symptoms for a while. If this is what it looks like, the technology doesn’t exist to heal it.”
“Then build it, damn you!” Lucilla yelled.
“I can’t,” Ky said as gently as he could. “I’m so sorry. If I could, you have to know I would. There’s nothing I wouldn’t do to try and help your father, but it’s just not possible.”
Her anger faded and she collapsed in his arms, crying.
“How long?” the Emperor asked.
“I don’t know. I can treat many of the symptoms. There are herbs and simple medicines that can act as ACE inhibitors, which should lower your blood pressure and reduce your kidney’s workload. Some diet changes, diuretics, and natural supplements. None of these are cures. Even if all of these work, six months, maybe a little more or less, until the organs give out completely. If none of the treatments work … less.”
“Well then, I think there are some things you need to do, Lucilla,” the Emperor said.
“Me?” she questioned, looking at her father and then at Ky. “But Ky needs to …”
“Do nothing. You heard him. Do you think Ky would hold back if he knew a way to heal me?”
“I can still think of something,” Ky said. “Just give me some time.”
“I know you’ll do your best, but if you don’t succeed we don’t have a lot of time,” the Emperor said, his voice trailing off into coughs. “Lucilla, I am an old man. I would like to stay and be with you longer, maybe even see a grandchild, if the gods are kind, but we do not have the luxury of wishing. Please don’t cry. I should have been dead last year. I would have been without Ky. I made my peace with death then. Instead, I got more time. I lived to see our people escape the thumb of the Carthaginians and actually take our land back. I got to see a mighty new Empire rise up that will keep our people safe well after I’m gone. And I got to see you find someone you love. You’ve always been too serious.”
“But I don’t want to lose you,” she said, burying her head into his shoulder.
“I know, but this is a part of life and was always going to happen. Now, enough of this. You have a duty, young lady, and you must do it. The Empire needs their Empress.”
“What?!” Lucilla said, sitting up bolt upright.
“You heard me. Who else would it be? Not your brother, that’s for sure. He is my greatest regret, but he chose his own greed and ambition over his people. And it can’t be Ky. Sorry, my boy, but as great of an asset as you have been and as much as you have given to us, you are still an outsider here. It also continues our line and makes your child, when you have it, more secure in their throne.”
“I’m happy it isn’t me. You and Lucilla have always been more cut out for politics than I have.”
“But I can’t rule. There has never been a woman Emperor.”
“No, but there’s nothing saying there can’t be one, and you have more support than anyone else. Our people are behind you and the Caledonians love you like one of their own. You might have issues with the Ulaid, although they’ve been known to support queens ruling them, so they might be more flexible on the subject than any of us. You’ve led the legions, or part of them, into battle. Everyone knows you are as big of a part of our amazing new technologies as Ky is. You’ve spent time in the hospitals, and worked with the new immigrants and the merchants. There isn’t a part of our society that you haven’t been the face of. If there was ever a woman the people would accept, it’s you. Moreover, you already know what to do. I might not have been able to guess this was how it was going to end up, but you’ve trained for this your entire life.”
“I’ll do you proud, Father.”
“I know you will, and I’m not dead yet. Even if Ky does find a way to heal me, I think it’s still best if I pass my reign to you. If he finds a cure, I will be able to continue helping you, offering advice as I can, but if not, I still have several months and I will not go out screaming to the gods about my fate. When I go, I want to know my legacy is secure.”
“It will be,” Lucilla said, reaching over and tightly grabbing his hand.
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Thomas Corbin
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