Ashes

by Martin Allen

  As the ringing in the ears of the column dissipated it was noticeable the mouths of the prisoners were not open merely in shock, but they were crying, tears flooding their cheeks, washing the stain of the dust from their faces. Men attempted to comfort the women and children as best they could numb in the shock that such an attack had on their very psyche. This was not just an attack on them or their person, which could be borne as sacrifice to the God they worshiped - be they Jew Christian or Muslim - but was an attack on the very identity of their people and their beliefs.

  Balbus stared at the ruins of the city that had so captured the souls of the ancestors he was now atoning for by his service - those that had condemned him to have to earn his citizenship rather than being awarded it like those who were descended from over four generations of faithful followers of Sol Invictus. Inwardly he rejoiced for such a blot on Invictus had been eradicated. Now the unbelievers would know the true might and judgement of Sol Invictus himself was ranged against them and the futility of clinging to such outmoded and superstitious beliefs would be known. In his heart he saw the ascendance of the Empire joyful and resplendent. Never again would the old religions be in a position to challenge the true order of things. The Empire would be eternal and the souls of future generations would be saved; for the old religions were so dependant on structures and symbols to survive. With those symbols destroyed they would be powerless to hold man to their heretical beliefs. Balbus glanced around to see to the perimeter. The haunted hollow expressions of the prisoners hit him like a fist in the stomach. He could not understand the strength of his reaction, for was not this for the good of those that stood accusing him with their silence and horrified expression. Was not the will of Sol Invictus evident for all to see in the very destruction of the three religious sites? He saw the pain in his parents’ eyes as he left to join the Imperial Guard, the disappointment. He tried to imagine they would be proud of his involvement in this venture, glorified that their son was present at the salvation point of mankind. For some reason the image refused to come. He could just see the same expression over and over again; their faces did not change from that which he had seen when he left. Was this not a proud moment? Was this not the very pinnacle of his service to the Empire?

  Lieutenant Gratius also stared at the devastation in front of him. Why had this objective been set as part of a mass prisoner transport? Surely, this would provoke a reaction among the factions that remained uncontained. A reprisal attack would certainly be an operational hazard if it had not already been so. Lieutenant Gratius’ quietly calculating mind pored over the possible repercussions. The Empire had obviously wanted the prisoners to see the destruction of their spiritual heritage; but for what purpose? This action would only effect as provocation and would certainly not subdue the prisoners, for they had been subservient and easily directed to this point, not even seeking their freedom when the attack had come outside Jerusalem. If anything this would cause the prisoners to harbour resentment and make them harder to control. The factions around this area had always been too caught in the past to ever be a credible threat seeking the destruction or conversion of each other, while simultaneously hiding from the Imperial gaze.

  Cold sensations mad their way down Lieutenant Gratius’ spine as a realisation became evident. With the transport of the prisoners and their involvement, passive as it was, they were now the primary target of all of the factions who were not religiously loyal to the Empire. The action of destroying the sites at Jerusalem would serve only to unite the factions and force a confrontation. The column was merely bait, an affront to all the various factions believed in and now a primary target for vengeance. The Empire was seeking to bring the remainder of the factions into the open by their open assault on the very core of their religions. Lieutenant Gratius, despite his military training, could not see the resolution of his assessment of the situation. After the devastation of the forces ranged against them prior to the entry of the Black Guard to Jerusalem there could not be enough men left to perform an assault on the column. The firepower at the command of the Empire would require a veritable horde of men poorly armed, as they were to affect even a small breakout from the ministrations of the soldiers guarding the prisoners.

  “Better fireworks than even the Quirinal,” exclaimed the Black Guard nearest to the squad. “Pity we could only do it once”

  A prisoner was tackled by one of his compatriots as he sought to challenge the Black Guard for his comment. He hit the ground with a thud and remained pinned there struggling as the other man shushed him lest he came to the attention of the Black Guard. Sergeant Curtius swore under his breath. Up to now the prisoners had, with the exception of the sole attempted escapee, been easy to control. If they now felt like assaulting the Black Guard single handed then the duty which he was under would now be all the more difficult. He resolved to make it absolutely clear to his men that no taunting or baiting of the prisoners was now to be even perceived to take place; he did not want a riot on his hands.

  “Move out. These unclean bastards have seen all they are supposed to. Let’s not wait for them to get a supply of relics to hold on to in the camps.” Came the order from Colonel Marius over the comm.-link.

  The squad formed up into their previous marching formation and hustled the prisoners, who were still openly weeping, back into line between the various APC’s and started to move them out of the vicinity of the ruined city.

  The landscape of broken desert began to give way to lands that contained at least some semblance of farmland and industry. The arid desert air began to pick up some cooling breeze from the sea and with it came a sense of comfort for the Squad for it distanced them from the events at Jerusalem, which still held some indefinable unease for even the experienced soldiers. It was one thing to destroy an opposing force, but to destroy an entire city, wherein people had lived, did not sit well at all. Resources were at a premium on Sol Invictus, having been practically picked clean years before in a last ditch attempt to save the human race. The resources had been expended on interstellar travel and the vast resources the wealthy had access to all came from other planets in the Empire. To completely destroy an entire city was unimaginably wasteful. Rather than to make the Empire seem powerful, it did to the soldiery make the Imperial power seem diminished and empty, carrying out such an act to subdue an ultimately powerless people.

  “Is it not enough, Oh Lord that you punish us, the last of your people, with the persecution of the Imperials, but to destroy the last outposts that remind us of your mercy, what have we done to so offend thee?” came a prayer from the column to the ears of Sergeant Curtius.

  Lieutenant Gratius used the night camp to fill in the squad on what he feared was the true intentions of the mission. He was careful to stress that this was only one possibility and faithfully avoided any mention of the wastefulness of the destruction of the city. He also made it clear that the squad should maintain combat readiness at all times.

  “Sir, I heard one of the prisoners praying and he referred to themselves as the last of his people.” Sergeant Curtius reported.

  “Hmm, well, that may well be true but given the actions I have seen so far then I doubt that that is true. He is one of a number of factions in this area and he could have been referring solely to his own faction. The others may be preparing to attack as we speak. I cannot think of any other reason for the destruction of the shrines that does not include provoking the factions into an ill-considered assault with the prisoners and ourselves as bait.”

  “But Sir, he was in prayer, doesn’t that mean he couldn’t lie to his God or something?”

  “I am no expert in the ways of these prisoners, even if you could identify which faction this prisoner belonged to it would very well be a ruse to put us off-guard. He may have sought a special dispensation while you were not listening.” Lieutenant Gratius paused, “Remember, we are taught that their Gods do not exist, there is little punishment to be metered by a deity that does not exist, therefor
e he is free to lie to his God as he sees fit with no fear of retribution. He is not bound by the same constraints that we are.”

  The following day Mya followed the squad at a distance. She could sense the pain in the groups of prisoners as they shuffled along. She was at a loss to understand why the squad, the very one that had helped not only her but those others she had travelled with, was not now helping. They had given their food and water to the prisoners; they had let them take shelter from the storm. Why were they not helping now? Her people were sad and that made her sad. She was fed at least. After they had left that big city that had blown up the shipments of food had come regularly and the prisoners did find themselves passing wild bushes, which could yield some fruit, berries and nuts. These had been shared out mainly among the children but others had been allowed a share. Mya also did not understand the looks that the prisoners were giving the squad. She knew her people were heartbroken about the city being destroyed but the squad had not gone anywhere near it. The men who went into the city were the ones dressed in black and were cruel to the prisoners. The squad were different; they had been nice to her. It was all so unfair. She stamped her foot in frustration, keeping her distance part way between the squad and her people. She did not know which side of the glowering was the right side but she did know that she wished they could just make up. When she was younger, she had accidentally broken another child’s toy. She had been too ashamed to go near the other child for she knew she had done something wrong, not on purpose - she had not meant to step backwards without looking. She had also known the other child would miss that favourite toy terribly and be hurt that she could have been so careless with something that was so important. She had taken to hiding when the other child was around until her mother had asked her what was wrong. Mya had shook her head to indicate that she was not going to tell her mother anything, perhaps her mother would have been as hurt as the other child and would not love her anymore. Her mother had taken her into her arms and held her until Mya had realised that her mother would love her no matter what and had spilled out the tale over vast sobs and not a little mucus from her nose getting in the way. Her mother had wiped her eyes, and the rest of her face, and explained that love comes with an extra part that comes in useful.

  Mya had, with the encouragement of her mother, gone up to the other girl, and apologised the next day. The toy had been long forgotten along with the hurt that the girl had taken as she thought her friend was angry with her. The girls had become fast friends just as they had been before the toy was broken, picking up just where they had left off and the whole incident nothing but a vaguely recalled memory. Mya wondered why the grown-ups could not just say sorry. She realised that all the buildings were much bigger than that toy, but surely that just meant the apology had to be that much bigger. After that they could all apologise to her for making her feel uncomfortable, after all she had had nothing to do with the city and it was not hers so why should she be made to feel bad about it?

  As time passed and the fields grew green and verdant, the buildings that the column passed grew more opulent. As the largess of the surroundings grew so did the complaints of the persons that lived in the dwellings. They objected strongly to the passage of the unclean by their homes and only the presence of the soldiers managed to hold back the aggrieved residents. Mya hid in the middle of the prisoners when these deputations came to yell at the prisoners. They did not say nice things. They also threw things, nasty rotten things and hard things like stones. One had struck Mya and she had cried. The big soldier who yelled at the others a lot had seen what happened and he turned to the person who had thrown it and said a very nasty word, a word that Mya was not supposed to know. She did not know what it meant but she knew that it was a bad word to say. The person who had hurt her had not been happy, he had been even less happy when the big soldier hit him in the face. Mya had giggled when that happened and the big soldier had winked at her. The soldiers were not bad, they were her friends. She wished more than ever that everyone saw things the way she did. The big soldier had been in trouble for hitting the bad man, but afterwards he had winked again at Mya. He did not seem to mind being in trouble for stopping the bad man hurting her again. Why would not anyone see that they could all be friends again?

  Mya steeped in these thoughts for days, and the days became weeks and the days became months. The routine never changed. At daybreak, provisions would be distributed and then everyone would start marching. They would not stop until nightfall when they would enter another camp and more food would be handed out. Mya did not like the food but as she was very hungry she ate it anyway and soon it began to appeal to her, but that was only because she was so very hungry and did not remember many of the other foods she had eaten in the past. The prisoners still kept their distance from the soldiers unwilling to trust those who had had a hand in the destruction of that which was most dear to them. Mya grew used to this separation, but she still was able to steal a wink from various members of the squad and she would cheekily wave back when no-one was watching. She was not angry with them so she wanted to let them know that. She would be carried for much of the marching for the distances were so great she did not have the stamina to cover them. She was circulated around the prisoners so as to share the burden. She would have preferred to sit in the big vehicle again, but she had grown used to having little say in anything.

  Mya’s eyes widened in awe, the city that had blown up was nothing in comparison to the one that stood in front of her. There were marble buildings that gleamed in the sun. They looked like representations of heaven itself. She had never seen magnificence of this scale. The long straight roads that could be seen cutting through the labyrinth of smaller streets resembled canyons, not of nature, for their uniformity rendered them unnatural, yet fitting, for this monument to man’s advancement in the arts of civilisation. Mya was unaware of the history of the hilled city that lay in front of her, but the city of Rome was the inspiration for so many civilizations, good and ill, that it was in fact much more than a monument in said art. Although Greece, Persia and Egypt had contrived civilisations much earlier than Rome the Romans had generated a spreading, uniform system of governance that set the template for much of which followed. The Empire had of course damned it for abandoning Sol Invictus for the Christian God and had appropriated its’ largest religious palace for its own use, but fearing the toxic and apostolic influence of the city it had moved it to a small island on the northwest of the coast of the continent on which Rome was located. The Empire said that this was a result of the true religion coming from the ashes of the old. Since the world could never go back to the old ways, the temple had to be moved. To Mya, even with the lack of the Basilica structure, the city was glorious; surely this was a place of wonder. That the soldiers had brought her here surely meant that they were friends. Perhaps everyone would be able to put the other city behind them. This one was much better anyway.

  Chapter 11

  There was a shimmering in the Courtyard of General Hostilius’ Headquarters, he craned his head to see what fresh horrors the Investigator planned to loose upon the rebel soldiers. In the courtyard were several robotic tracked vehicles. They reached not to the height of a grown man but, clearly due to their squat tracked configuration, weighed at least twice as much. They did not appear to be armed in any way. For the second of the two plagues General Hostilius was confused as he was expecting something much more manifestly menacing for the plan of the Investigator was surely one of escalation. The gas had at least seemed unnatural and chilling prior to its effects being known. These automatons were not in the least threatening; they were almost, well cute, by Imperial machinery standards. They stood motionless as though they knew they were being inspected. Tracks lay at the bottom of the vehicles with a squat square body containing the electrical engine and battery. A series of small cameras’ sensors and antennae poked out from the almost cube-like body while a primary large pair of visual cameras, almost like eyes, sat on top of
the ensemble.

  The tracks ground into action crunching the gravel in the courtyard as the five automatons moved away. They moved ponderously, as though reading from an internal map, occasionally turning this way and that when faced with a new piece of scenery that appeared from behind another. They appeared to be getting their bearings from the visual markers rather than merely using GPS. Whilst this was more time consuming than the remote variant, if the GPS signal was disabled, either by attacking the satellites themselves or by scrambling the signal, these drones would continue to their target regardless.

  Investigator Celeris turned to the General with a smug grin on her face, her previous efforts to keep her joy at inflicting punishing agony on the rebel positions from her face was now abandoned.

  “The second horseman of Plague will shortly fall upon those impudent wretches. Each of those drones contains a virus that was feared in the pre-Imperial era. It was made airborne by scientists playing God, and they were rewarded by hubris. We found the complex in lockdown in an effort to contain the contagion. Everyone in the laboratory had died - their bodies eaten from the inside out by the virus they themselves had created. Samples of the virus were already secured within the remote release systems which are now attached to the drones you have just unleashed; your bow tipped with poison arrows. Lo how the unfaithful shall suffer, the weapons used by their kind turned traitorously against them, their petard rebounding its charge again’ them”