America's Galactic Foreign Legion - Book 20: Time Machine (23 page)

“I thought so, Persian dog. Too bad about your mutton girlfriend losing her head.”

Enraged, Bazariabi drew a razor from his boot and sliced Crowius across his shoulder and down the back. Crowius fell in his own blood, convulsing in shock on the ground. Roman soldiers rushed into the arena, savagely spearing Bazariabi. Persians tried to protect Godzilla, but were cut down too. The crowd went nuts, lynching Persians on the spot. Any survivors were hunted and thrown to the lions, or crucified.

Tonelli took his shot. Julius Caesar’s confidant, Publius Servilius Casca Longus, stood just as the shot was fired. He was struck in the chest, showering Caesar in a bloody mist of gore and body parts. Shaken, Caesar declared war on the Parthian Empire. Rome would be avenged. Those Persian bastards would be dealt with once and for all!

Chapter 31

Julius Caesar personally led his legions against the Parthian Empire, past Antioch and across Mesopotamia, along the Euphrates River north to Armenia and the Caucasus. Forty thousand strong, the Romans relied on superior tactics, armor, and organization. Caesar’s legions made good time, taking advantage of newly issued Nike running shoes. I tagged along. After Germania, Caesar considered me to be a good luck charm. He gave me a temporary job as his chief food taster.

Logistics crossing the deserts had always been a problem for both armies. The Persians relied on sheer numbers. They fell back, sucking the Romans ever further from home, waiting with a half million troops drafted from the far corners of Asia.

Finally King Pacorus made his stand on the plains of Transcaucasus. Their main phalanx and supporting archers met the Romans head-on, while cavalry attacked the flanks. Shock troops charged on war elephants. The Romans did an odd thing. They stood their ground behind wooden barriers, setting defensive spikes. At each end of camp, legionnaires erected siege towers.
What in the hell are they up to?
wondered Pacorus as his army advanced.
There are no cities to lay siege to out here!

As the phalanx engaged the Roman line, signal flags went up and horns sounded. Tarps were thrown off fifty-cal machine guns mounted atop the towers. The elephants died first. Gunners methodically raked the Persian ranks, sowing death and mayhem. Slingers tossed gunpowder and clay fragmentation grenades. A crude cannon blasted the Persians with grape shot, but they kept coming. At first, dust obscured the carnage. When the phalanx finally collapsed upon itself, anyone who did not flee was trampled by front ranks. A sniper killed King Pacorus, who had been watching from a small rise, adding to the confusion. Days later, the Persian capital city of Persepolis surrendered without resistance and was sacked.

* * * * *

“There’s not much difference between nuking a city and sacking it,” I commented, pouring wine as I enjoyed a victory dinner with Julius Caesar in his big luxury tent. “Was that really necessary?”

“Persia is a lot to digest, even for Rome,” explained Caesar. “An example had to be set. In the long run, sacking Persepolis saves lives. You need to see the big picture when managing an empire.”

“Now what? On to India, in the footsteps of Alexander the Great?”

“I follow no man’s footsteps, even Alexander’s,” bristled Caesar. “History will compare Alexander to me, not me to Alexander.”

“And India?”

“The Kushan Empire has nothing I want. It’s filled with malaria and dot-heads, as if I don’t have enough problems dealing with Christians. As long as they behave themselves, I’ll only extend Rome’s borders to deal with threats and barbarians.”

“You might think of being more tolerant with Christians,” I advised. “They could be the next big thing.”

“I’m the next big thing,” boasted Caesar. He paused and added, “But I have received that same advice before. Perhaps I’ll give the matter more thought.”

“I’ve heard grumblings from your troops,” I pressed delicately. “They want to return home.”

“Professional soldiers will do their duty. I made them all rich with loot. They just want to spend their gold. Once the loot is gone, they will thirst for more campaigns.”

“It’s more than that.”

“Yes,” said Caesar, gazing up at the stars. “I fear you are right. A simple soldier is reassured by Jupiter and Mars, always visible in the sky, always in same place. But, they don’t know what to think of the many lights now moving across the heavens. How can I tell them it’s only communications satellites bringing us wireless internet service and Google?”

“I see your point.”

“They balk at going further until Mars and Jupiter are right with the world. To go further would risk civil war.”

“So, we’re going home?”

“I will construct a victory arch on this very spot, rebuild Persepolis as my eastern capital, and return to Rome, triumphant. It’s what I do.”

“And the Senate? You still have enemies plotting your downfall.”

“Jealous fools,” sneered Caesar. “I’ll feed them to the lions!”

I raised
my eyebrows but said nothing, wondering if I’d ever get home –
really
home. Orders were that Caesar must die, but I wasn’t going to do anything now. Officially, I was still on vacation. Why spoil the fun with an assassination? Caesar would just have to die another day.

###

~BONUS SHORT STORY~

Robots

by Charles O’Keefe

As usual, Steve was late for work at Biebertech, International. He supposed his lack of promptness was caused by refusing to let robots do everything, but he hated robots with a passion. Relying so much on robots grated on Steve.

Most cars on the airway flew themselves, but not Steve’s. His 2099 Chevy Luffe looked more like a plane than a car. Since it didn’t fly itself, Steve had to pay attention in traffic. The law required all robocars now to take flight, but Steve would have just as happily driven to work on streets. He supposed it was for the best. People used that idle time on the way to work to nap, catch up on schoolwork or business calls, even getting inflight manicures.

Steve refused to upgrade his robocar. He could afford a payment plan but figured the Disney Corporation was rich enough; he’s contribute no more to that Merry Mad Rodent. At first, flying robocars seemed like a good idea. There would be no more horrendous airway traffic accidents. People can barely handle two dimensions, let alone going 3D. All that unused pavement left below could be given back to Mother Nature, making Earth greener. It was always a sunny day in Bespin City, orbiting high above the clouds. The God’s eye view was awesome. What was there not to love? Progress marches on.

Steve scratched his head and beard. Something of a Luddite, he hadn’t opted for the permanent hair removal
that was so much the rage now with young people. Embedded holo-hair emitters were not for him. Sure, it was hot to change hair color on a whim, but he enjoyed familiarity of haircuts and shaving. Personal grooming was a connection to the past not to be abandoned.

As Steve arrived for work, a robot waited patiently to park the car in underground storage. For reasons of insurance liability, employees
were not trusted to such complicated tasks.

“Good morning, Steve,” greeted the car
-parking robot. “Good job. You were almost on time. Was traffic heavy this morning?”

“Whatever.”

“Have a Bieberlicious day, Steve.”

“Kiss my ass, robot.”

Steve was especially creeped out by this particular robot. Its female voice was pleasant enough, friendly, even almost sensual, but the pale skin covering its face clashed with its gleaming silver metallic torso – shades of the Borg. Steve was determined to resist, even if it was futile.

Steve hated his job. Through sheer force of will
, he seated himself at his office of clear force-field walls, arranged by the hundreds like rats in some clear maze experimental lab. He faced another day of calling people to ask if they would like to sign up for a deluxe Bieber, or for just an abbreviated Biebercast. Either way, the customer was just helping amass more fortune for Justine Bieber Emeritus XII.

Logging in
to his computer, Steve submitted to a retinal scan. He was prompted to repeat out loud the corporate mantra, “I am a true Blieber.”

Begrudgingly he complied.

“And?” asked the computer.

“And ... if Anne Frank were alive
, she would also be a true Blieber,” added Steve, his shoulders slumping in defeat to the machines.

He had no idea who Anne was
. All trace of her existence had been purged from Disney records. Somehow that seemed even more degrading. Steve took solace in the fact that the computer could not detect sarcasm in his voice, lest he be reported for lack of corporate zeal.

The mourning progressed as usual. Steve lamented about what went wrong with his wasted life. At
forty-five, he’d never been promoted, had only accrued basic benefits, and did not even have a steady girlfriend. At least he no longer lived in his parents’ basement. But the average human lifespan had been extended well past one-hundred, so there was still time. But, damn it, there had to be a better way! Steve took his first allowed fifteen-minute break, eating his usual carrot cookie and Soylent Green shake, yum-yum. He daydreamed about getting off work. Tonight would be different. Tonight he had a date!

Steve had met Angela at the gym. She asked him out, such an unexpected surprise. Angela liked his retro ‘Battlestar Galactica’
tee-shirt, appreciating his taste in a show that had aired over a century ago. Steve smiled to himself as he got back to work. He could hardly wait for his shift to end. Maybe things were looking up. It couldn’t get much worse.

At lunch time Steve dug into his meal of sushi. Meat had long disappeared from the world’s menu, a result of the McDonald’s/Wendy’s planetary wars. Seafood was the only choice that survived. Steve had to admit he love cloned salmon. Finished, he gazed leisurely at his co-workers about the lunchroom. Most had phones glued to their ears. To be more precise, the phones were implanted into their heads with holographic displays. You’d think employees would have had enough of being wired into the grid from work, but no, that virtual madness extended into their off-duty time, too. Steve would have none of it. Soon, he would be enjoying an evening with Angela, a good old
-fashion retro girl.

* * * * *

At the Toy Story Eatery, the robo-valet took Steve’s car keys, holding out its scanner for a tip. Steve sighed as he swiped his card. Angela arrived minutes later. Angela had long natural blond hair and blue eyes. She wore a refreshingly modest Futurama T-shirt and silver diamond pants, spurning the Star Trek jumpsuits so popular nowadays.

Angela smiled and waved.
“Hi, Steve. Let’s go in, I’m starved.”

“You look great,” commented Steve, placing his hand casually at the small of her back as they entered. “I love this place.
” The holodoors faded as they passed. “You can get a real drink, not that synthehol crap.”

Once seated, Steve tried to be smooth by keeping up the conversation. “Have you seen that new ‘Man of Steel 33?’ I thought it was pretty good, though I wonder how many times they can re-launch Superman.”

Angela only smiled as she ordered from the inlaid program on the table. “When was the last time you were really happy?” she asked.

“I’m happy this very moment, with you,” answered Steve, caught off-guard. “Happier than I have been in years. I used to teach school on Mars for a small school district that actually wanted me present to teach the class, not this cyber-virtual packaged nonsense we have now. Back then, we had choices. I only had three students, but we had a connection that’s hard to describe. It was real. Then I sold out to Biebertech for more money.”

Angela nodded, reaching across the table to take Steve’s hand, while pushing buttons with the other to order an appetizer. “It’s okay,” she replied. “We all have our regrets. I never planned on being a door-to-door anti-matter salesperson, but that’s just how things worked out.”

“Ambidextrous,” noted Steve of her multitasking abilities. “I love that. I love everything about you.”

“I love everything about you, too,” said Angela, smiling seductively as she ordered another drink.

Steve’s heart pounded. This night was going to end well, he could tell.

* * * * *

Sure enough, after dinner, Angela suggested they go to Steve’s place. He was more than a little drunk, and certainly not inclined to argue. Angela drove his car. She was a natural. At home
, Steve led a now submissive Angela to his bedroom. He was glad he had cleaned up his apartment, hiding the childish collector Transformers he still played with.

Steve smoothly took out the Mind Sex hookup device from his nightstand. Mind Sex was the one technological advance Steve fully appreciated, and got much use. The popularity of Mind Sex made sexually transmitted diseases practically nonexistent, although there were still some viruses if you open
ed the wrong windows. And of course, unplanned pregnancies were a thing of the past.