by G. K. Lamb
“All units, this is Commanding General Antonius Neptus. The parliament is ours and the Prime Minister is in our custody! We’ve come a long way men, but here today, on this cold fall morning, the blood and toil of the last ten years has come due! Victory is ours, long live the Great Society!”
I return the microphone to the corporal with little enthusiasm.
“Corporal, get me transport to the parliament.”
“Yes, sir.”
He dutifully obeys, sending the call out over the radio almost immediately. Returning to the small window I look out over the ruins of the city. Taking deep draws from the cigar I keep my eyes fixed on the fires. A malicious smile curls up on my lips.
Dropping the smoldering butt of the cigar to the dirt floor of the shack I snub it out with my highly polished black boots.
“Transport is waiting outside sir.”
“Carry on, Corporal.” My response an automatic reflex of life in uniform.
I move to the back of the shack and stoop down through the short, wooden door. Stepping outside, I shiver in the cool wind. Standing where the sun does not reach, at the bottom of a trench that slopes up gently to ground level, the cool air feels even colder. As I reach the surface, and the rays of sun hit my old frame, the bitterness fades. A column of armored cars is lined up on the road headed into the city. In the middle of the column is an open-topped car fitted with small flags of deep blue. Sitting in the driver’s seat is a soldier wearing goggles. Beside him is another goggle-wearing soldier and sitting in the backseat is man who appears to be another officer. I advance toward the car, and the soldier in the passenger seat gets out. His pressed, brown uniform makes him look out of place on the battlefield. He opens the door for me. Taking my goggles down from my helmet I position them over my eyes. I slide into the empty back seat, its supple leather much more enjoyable than the hard stool in the shack. The car’s engine roars to life in chorus with the rest of the convoy. As we drive slowly into the rubble, I look over at the officer. I recognize him immediately.
“Nice of you to join us at the front, Daedalus.”
“You know me, General, I’m always around when there’s glory to be had.”
“So you’ve heard the news already then?”
“Why else do you think I left my drawing room at headquarters?”
I pause for a moment. This colonel is astute in the art of war, but when it comes to politicking and subterfuge he has no equal. He is a powerful ally, and not a man I care to cross, but his bullish comments can, at times, be almost too much to handle. Not wishing to argue with him, I divert the subject.
“What are the initial casualty reports?”
“Better than predicted, but still pretty grim. Most units are at seventy percent strength, however, many of the vanguard units are wiped out.”
“Well I wouldn’t have expected them to go down without a fight.”
Wanting to speak on other matters, I hesitate and look at the soldiers in the front seat. Pointing a finger at the two soldiers, I make eye contact with Daedalus.
“Colonel, can these soldiers be trusted?”
He smiles and nods.
“They’ve been handpicked. Both men have sworn their allegiance to you and the army.”
“Excellent. I’m glad the day has gone so well but what is troubling me is why they surrendered at the last minute? Doesn’t the Prime Minister realize we are going to execute him? He’ll be dead either way, so why go out like a coward? What is he hoping to gain? What’s his play here?”
Daedalus takes a moment to answer. His eyes are fixed on the side of the road which is starting to fill with debris and bodies.
“He must hope that now that the war is over, the soft civilian wing of our revolution will take pity on him. If Cornelius gets his way I’m sure he’ll be right. With peace looming, Cornelius will more than likely spare his life as a sign of good faith.”
“I’ll be damned if Cornelius can overstep my authority. He may be the spirit and face of this revolution, but I’m the one who slogged through the trenches for ten long years while he gave speeches! This is my victory, my revolution, and I want the Prime Minister’s head on a spike.”
“I couldn’t agree more sir, but we must tread softly. If you make Cornelius your enemy now it will wash away all of your success in the last decade. We both know he’s too radical. He dreams of a utopia, of peace and prosperity that can never exist. We have to steer him to our way of thinking.”
“And how do you suppose we do that? I’ve tried to get through to that man until I was blue in the face. He doesn’t see reality. He’s hell bent on his dream of a better tomorrow. The people don’t want more change. They want stability, they want normalcy after all of the bloodshed.”
“We’ll make him see it one way or another. Leave the details to me, but we’ll either convince him or eliminate him.”
“Eliminate him? How? He has too much popular support and abroad he holds a kind of mystic romanticism. If we killed him…”
“Who said we would kill him? We’ll talk to him first, but if, and when, he decides to start the implementation of his Great Society, we’ll get another player to take him out. Why send your knight to take out the queen when a pawn can do it?”
“And we’ll emerge with clean hands from all of this?”
“We’ll emerge as saviors! Trust me, when this is all over the people will throw themselves at your feet.”
“You better be right Daedalus, or it’ll be our heads on spikes.”
We both know the conversation is over for now. Looking at the soldiers in front of me, I make a mental note to have them killed, just in case their loyalties aren’t pure.
Progress through the city is slow. Every few minutes the convoy has to stop and clear a path through the rubble. Block after block, these once magnificent buildings, constructed of stone and wood, lay in burning heaps. How does Cornelius believe he can create his utopia from this rubble? The survivors don’t want the lofty promises of a dreamer. They want the cold hard reality only a warrior like myself can provide. I’ll rebuild their homes and put them back to work. Whatever liberties they lose along the way will be inconsequential to the comfort and stability I will provide. Maybe if Cornelius had succeeded with his plans of a peaceful transition, but that moment is too far gone. Dreams cannot grow in blood-soaked soil. Looking around, I see it clearly. Bodies litter the ruins in every form. The faces of the dead are locked in eternal agony.
Thick black smoke envelopes us as we drive further into the city. Pulling a thick cloth from my pocket I press it over my face to avoid inhaling some of the noxious fumes. The smoke is so dense that visibility has all but disappeared. The convoy crawls along through the smoke until at last it clears. Dropping the cloth from my face, I pull in a deep breath of clean air. The bittersweet smell of death hangs pungent in the air.
Before us is the shattered heap of the once glorious parliament building. The large stones supporting the roof have been shattered in a few places causing portions of it to collapse, but for the most part it looks able to stand, if just barely. Lines of trenches crisscross the crater-filled field surrounding the parliament. The burning hulks of tanks dot the field and bodies of innumerable soldiers litter the ground. The convoy comes to a halt. The driver turns around.
“This is as far as we can go, General.”
“Very good, soldier. Carry on.”
The soldier with the finely pressed uniform opens my door. I step out, the ground is soft under my feet. Daedalus exits the car then walks around the back to join me. Leading the way, I walk with slow, cautious steps across the still-smoldering battlefield. The moans of dying soldiers hit my ears while I step over body after body. Once we are out of ear shot of the car I stop and turn toward Daedalus.
“I want those soldiers relieved of duty.”
“Already on it sir, I’ll ma
ke sure their bodies are mingled in with the casualties out here. Great patriots sacrificing themselves for the revolution, you do them a great honor.”
“I’m glad you see it that way.”
Crossing the battlefield is slow and arduous but we emerge unscathed on the parliament’s white marble steps. Revolutionary soldiers have taken positions around the building. They salute us excitedly as we pass. With many eyes watching, I make sure to take each large step in full stride, shoulders back and chest held high. Cresting the top of the stairs, the once magnificently carved double doors that lead into the main foyer have been blown open. Only a few slivers of wood still cling to the hinges. Inside is a bustle of activity. Soldiers are hastily assembling a temporary command and control center. With the roof knocked in, the vast open-air hall dwarfs the small shack. This is the kind of space befitting a general, I think to myself. Noticing our arrival, a mud-covered captain rushes over to greet us. He snaps a sharp solute which I return in kind.
“Afternoon, General. I trust your ride over was smooth?”
“It was, Captain. Now tell me, where is the Prime Minister being held?”
“In the lower halls sir. Most of the building below ground is intact.”
“Take us there.”
“Yes, sir.”
Following the captain, we quickly exit the main hall and begin our descent down a long narrow staircase. The still-intact walls are illuminated by dim yellow lights strung along the ceiling.
“Where is the power coming from, Captain?”
“Generators in the basement.”
“What about water?”
“Plumbing is working in a few areas of the building, but most of it is destroyed.”
Reaching the bottom of the stair we enter another hall, but this one is much smaller than the one above and its ceilings are low. The dim yellow light gives the space an uncomfortable and cramped feel.
“Through the double doors at the end is a holding cell. The Prime Minister and the surviving members of his cabinet are in there.”
“Thank you for the tour, Captain.”
Snapping another salute, the captain turns and leaves. Walking into the room, the soldiers flanking the double doors pull them open letting us glide inside the holding cell without missing a step.
The Prime Minister and his cabinet look battered and broken behind the thick steel bars. I remove my helmet, handing it to one of the soldiers standing inside. Daedalus does the same then joins me next to the bars. The Prime Minister and his cabinet members sit silently. Their suits are ripped and covered in dust. I bang on the bars with my fist to grab their attention. Looking up at me, the greying Prime Minister makes eye contact. His green eyes are bloodshot and his hair is disheveled. Standing shakily, a younger cabinet member jumps up to help him to his feet.
“Antonius, I cannot say it is a pleasure to see you again.”
“If our circumstances were reversed I’m sure I would say the same thing. But standing on this side of the bars is exhilarating.”
“Men such as you always find pleasure in the suffering of others. Whatever you hoped to gain through your treachery and rebellion is beyond me. If it is power you’re after, I’m afraid latching onto some radical’s coattails is no different than when you took orders from me. You’re still someone’s lackey.”
“I prefer to call it a revolution. Rebellion leaves such an unpleasant taste in my mouth. And I assure you, I am no man’s lackey. Cornelius is not the one running this show. I am.”
“I wouldn’t be so sure about that. The people rally to his side. Not ten minutes ago he granted me full pardon upon my release. I know how desperately you wanted to see my head roll, but it appears your superiors have a much better understanding of what it takes to lay the foundation for peace.”
“You think you’re a free man? I think you’re living on borrowed time. We’ll see who’s right.”
“I’m looking forward to proving you wrong.”
I turn away from the cage and stride out of the room. Daedalus follows behind.
“What does Cornelius think he’s doing pardoning that man? And how dare he do so without consulting me?” I say.
Daedalus’ eyes twinkle. “Soldier, is there a private room nearby where the general and I can speak without interruption?” Daedalus asks.
The soldier standing on the left side of the double doors snaps to attention then points off to his left. “Through that door there is a sitting room sir.”
“Very good, make sure we are not disturbed.”
“Yes, sir.”
Following Daedalus into the room I close the door behind us. This room is small but well furnished. Polished oak bookshelves line the walls. Two doors on the opposite wall lead off toward other rooms. Daedalus walks over to them and with a quick motion locks them. In the middle of the room is a small round table surrounded by four high-backed leather chairs. I take one of the seats that allows me to see all three doors. Daedalus moves to sit then stops, a small smile on his face.
“Care for a drink?”
He motions to the small bar resting up against the wall.
“Sure. Make it strong.”
Daedalus pours an expensive looking bottle of brandy into two tumblers. Handing me one he takes the seat across from me. I take a sip; it’s strong with end notes of tobacco. It calms the bubbling rage in my chest. Daedalus takes his own small sip before he sets the glass down on the table. Leaning back into his chair, he crosses his legs.
“I think this business with the pardon will actually work in our favor.”
“How is that?”
“All we need to do is frame it properly. We’ve been fighting for ten years to overthrow the corrupt republic and build the Great Society. During each of those years Cornelius gave speech after speech about how we need to eradicate the old system in order to make way for the new. He has convinced the people that the Great Society can only be built from a clean slate. But now, when the fighting has stopped, he wishes to grant a full pardon to the very embodiment of the corrupt and immoral state he’s been trying to topple. He always wanted a peaceful revolution so I’m sure he never had any intention of actually killing off every single person who flew the republican flag, but his rhetoric in the context of protracted and bloody civil war can be easily misunderstood to imply that a clean slate means lots of headless bodies.”
“So all we have to do is convince people that he’s gone back on his pledge to clean the slate?”
“Exactly. People are expecting us to clean house and start anew, so when he calls for pardons and reconciliation they’ll be confused. The people want retribution for all the atrocities they have suffered. They want a return to normalcy, and you will give it to them. When he comes to pardon the Prime Minister, we will arrest him for treason against the revolution. He’ll admit to wanting to peacefully integrate those still loyal to the republic into the folds of the Great Society, and when he does he’ll sign his own death warrant.”
“How certain are you that this will work?”
“I’m more than positive. We just need to make it showy, twist his words for full effect, and broadcast it for everyone to hear. When you kill Cornelius and take the reins of power it will be to the sounds of jubilation.” Daedalus’ mouth curves up in a cruel smile.
“Now all we need to do is wait for him to arrive,” I say.
“And with this fine brandy, we can enjoy the wait,” Daedalus replies.
Daedalus and I spend a few hours sitting in the room sipping the brandy. The bottle is mostly empty when we decide to retire for the night. We find the captain, and he leads us to a remarkably undamaged wing of the parliament.
“There are rooms set up for each of you. I apologize in advance for the crudeness of the rooms but much of the finer linens were destroyed in the assault.”
“Nothing you can do about that, Ca
ptain,” I say.
“If there anything else you may need, let me know.”
“Actually, there is one thing. The command and control station you are setting up in the entry hall, does that have the power to broadcast to the nearest civilian relays?”
“I suppose we could manage that, it would require reallocating some of the building’s power away from lights and other utilities.”
“Make it so,” I say. “Try and get as many repeater stations in range as you can. I want to be able to broadcast to the whole nation.”
“I’ll make the proper calls and make sure the civilian stations are standing by to retransmit your message.”
“Very good, Captain.”
“Good night, sir.”
The captain turns and walks away down the hallway back toward the roofless entry hall.
“This is going to be easy Antonius. They pieces are starting to fall into place,” says Daedalus.
“Make sure they do.”
We exchange a hard look. I maintain eye contact with Daedalus, unwilling to blink. Tense seconds tick by, but his will breaks first. He disappears behind the door to his quarters. I stand alone in the dim hallway for a minute then enter my own room, closing the door softly behind me.
The room is paneled in dark wood with well-built, but simple, furniture filling the space. The bed is small, but it looks clean and comfortable enough. A wash basin sits on the night stand with a large glass carafe filled with clean water next to it. There is also a small wooden desk with a lamp. First, I remove my belt and set it on the bed’s banister. The weight of my pistol and ammunition lifting off comes as a relief. Removing my jacket and boots next, I pull the chair back and sit in it, placing my aching feet up on the desk. After the years of fighting and positioning to get the top spot in the army, my moment to finally seize total control is within my grasp. Daedalus’ plan seems sound enough. No doubt Cornelius will arrive tomorrow to give a heartfelt victory speech and pardon the Prime Minister himself and before the sun sets I’ll be the head of state. However, Daedalus’ duplicitous nature gives me pause. A man like him will not be content to dance while I pull the strings forever. He probably won’t try to take my power immediately; he’ll wait until I’ve let my guard down. That could be a month from now, or a year, but one day he’ll undermine me. You can always trust a snake to be a snake. I need to eliminate him, and I know the best way to do it. Tomorrow when the world comes crashing down around Cornelius’s revolution, Daedalus will be his unwitting accomplice and share his fate on the gallows. Excited about tomorrow’s prospects, I get up from the chair and lay on top of the small bed. My eyes close, and I drift off into a restful and dreamless sleep.