Authors: Mark Henrikson
Hastelloy stood on
top of the senate house steps along with the other elected officials. Down below lining the streets, climbing statues, and even hanging from trees must have been every citizen in the city of Rome. They were clambering over themselves to get even the slightest glimpse of Caesar as he triumphantly marched his men down the paved road leading to the senate building.
Thousands of men in full armor and shield marched in formation with trumpet and drum bands dispersed intermittently. Behind a cluster of twenty chariots, Caesar sat in the saddle of his towering
white stallion. Usually the guest of honor in a parade such as this rode a chariot drawn by four white horses. Hastelloy could see why he chose to forego that tradition in favor of riding his mount. The animal managed to be terrifying and magnificent all at the same time.
As Caesar came to a stop at the base of the senate steps
, he raised his right hand to salute those in the crowd. He made a deliberate effort to acknowledge every major cluster of citizens as he turned and rotated in his saddle to demonstrate his love for the common man. The crowd gobbled it up and lavished him with deafening cheers and showered him with rose petals.
Finally Caesar dismounted his steed and
made his way to the top of the marble steps. The crowd seemed almost disappointed by the sight of the great man actually having to walk up the steps rather than levitate as a god might. He was a great man, but alas, he was just a man after all.
“It’s remarkable,” a senator standing next to Hastelloy commented. “I’ve never seen a turnout like this before, and I have
it on good authority Caesar didn’t pay a single one of them to show up to cheer on his behalf. They genuinely adore him. How does he do it?”
Hastelloy leaned over to the man. “
Everybody loves a winner, and he won.”
When Caesar reached the summit of his climb
he turned once more to acknowledge the crown and then proceeded into the senate chamber. The crowd was in such a frenzied state that any attempt to give a speech was impractical and to be honest pointless considering the popularity the man already carried. Any public words spoken might actually do more harm than good.
On his way into the senate building Caesar gestured for everyone else to follow. Obediently
, the senators filed in behind. The knot in Hastelloy’s stomach was back and tighter than ever as he witnessed the power Caesar had over everything: the military, the people, and now the government.
Caesar didn’t hold an elected office and yet he summon
ed those who were elected to follow him into their own house of conduct. The only saving thought Hastelloy carried onto the senate floor was that Caesar’s two closest advisors were on his side, at least he thought.
When Hastelloy stepped onto the senate floor, his ears
failed to detect the usual low murmur that always filled the hall before a session was called to order. The dead silence almost carried a physical presence in the room. Hastelloy stole a brief glance around the perimeter to see that there was indeed a physical presence. Dozens of armed soldiers ringed the senators as they sat in their marble stadium seating arrangement.
These soldiers were not the ones for show outside
in the parade. These were warriors who meant business and most definitely had the ability to carry out that business. Hastelloy longed for the potent presence Gallono and his mastery of hand to hand combat would have provided in this situation. He could not be certain, but the commander was probably talented enough in the trade to take out every one of Caesar’s guards all at the same time. Alas, Gallono was gone so Caesar’s domination of the chamber would stand.
The magistrate
banged his staff on the marble floor calling the session to order. The blows in reality were gentle taps, but they reverberated off the walls and filled the silent void within like a blacksmith pounding out a sword. The senators took their seats in good order and Hastelloy noticed Caesar struck the unassuming position of leaning against the back wall. Apparently he was content to be a simple spectator for the moment.
“I call this s
enate session to order,” the magistrate announced. “First order of business . . .”
“Point of order,” a bold senator from the
Populares block interrupted. “I object to the presence of armed soldiers in the senate house. They are a blatant attempt at intimidation to influence any measures that will be debated this day.”
The magistrate paused to look at Caesar, who sent a gentle nod back. With the order given, the magistrate continued. “You misinterpret their presence Senator. These men are here to provide
protection in case the traitor Pompey has any violent designs against his former countrymen.”
“Of course they are,” the objecting senator responded
in a voice that trailed off into the apprehensive silence of the hall. He had no evidence to the contrary so the senator meekly took his seat again and allowed the magistrate to continue.
“Peoples Tribune, Mark Antony, has a few measures he wishes to propose for debate and vote,” the magistrate gestured for Antony to come forward. “Tribune, you have the floor.”
The man Hastelloy knew as Tomal paced to the center of the floor before he spoke. “Senators, in the interests of the common citizens of Rome, who I humbly represent, I submit the following measures for immediate vote by this body.”
Tomal
took a few moments before continuing to visually acknowledge each soldier standing at the ready behind the senate body. Then he held up a list that must have contained several hundred of names. “First. The men on this list, who are known to support Pompey and his forces, will have their assets confiscated by the state and be stripped of their titles and citizenship. They will be considered enemies of Rome and subject to summary execution when found.”
Tomal took fifteen minutes running through the exhaustive list of names.
As a wealthy man who once opposed Caesar in the senate and in battle, Hastelloy was quite relieved not to hear his name mentioned. Death meant nothing to him, but the disruption to his plans and the subsequent need to reestablish his wealth and place in society would have been devastating.
Hastelloy aside, the list was extremely thorough at calling out every family of wealth in the Republic that either backed Pompey, or didn’t thoroughly support Caesar with all their heart. The list constituted an
open ticket to remove anyone Caesar felt was a threat to his rule.
When Tomal finished the list he looked to the magistrate who obeyed the implied order. “I now call this measure to a vote.”
“You are out of order Magistrate,” the same Populares senator objected. “Debate has not been opened or closed on the matter.”
Hastelloy followed the magistrate’s eyes as they met Caesar’s. The general casually flicked his index finger to the side. Instantly
, one of the soldiers moved in behind the vocal opponent.
“Senator”
’ the magistrate said. “I believe you have urgent business outside this chamber demanding your attention. Would you please follow your armed escort out and tend to your private business under his protection.”
“Protection my eye,” the senator said on his way out of the chamber under the close escort of Caesar’s soldier. Every eye in the house watched the pair leave. An extremely satisfied
grin filled the faces of half the hall, while the other half saw their features run pale. They all understood the situation.
“As I was saying,” the magistrate went on. “I now call this measure to a vote.”
The measure passed without difficulty.
Tomal took the floor again. “My second measure concerns the position of Consul. As you all know
, one of the two elected consuls was tragically killed up north at the city of Samarium while following Pompey’s illegal orders to attack Caesar and his small group of men who sought to escort me, the people’s Tribune, back to Rome.
“This situation leaves the lone Consul a de facto dictator.
My second measure to support the people’s interest is to install Gaius Julius Caesar into the vacant Consul position.”
Once again the measure passed without opposition
, allowing Tomal to move on to his third proposal. “In the interest of finishing the rebellion Pompey and his fellow traitors present to the Republic, I propose fifty million sesterces be removed from the treasury. These funds will be put under the care of Consul Caesar who will use the funds to lead our armies and destroy the threat posed by Pompey and his allies once and for all.”
As before, the measure received no debate and passed by an almost unanimous
majority and allowed Tomal to continue. “The final vote I humbly propose for this body to contemplate is the appointment of the people’s Tribune to the position of Prefect. Thereby allowing the Tribune to run the city of Rome while Consul Caesar is away and enforcing the prior measure.”
Groans and grumbles rippled across the Populares side of the hall, but in the end the measure passed and Tomal was granted complete control over the city. Then the magistrate tapped his staff to the marble once again.
“With these measures passed, I hereby draw this senate session to a close.”
The soldiers
immediately moved to form ranks around the newly appointed Consul and escorted Caesar out the front door of the senate chamber to an explosion of cheers from the citizens of Rome who stayed to greet their champion.
**********
“Wow, the speed with which Caesar took total control of the Roman Republic is simply breathtaking.” Dr. Holmes commented.
Hastelloy
slowly rubbed his temples while delivering his reply. “Yes, with his military victory achieved in the field, Caesar returned to Rome and within a matter of minutes procured a legal hit list to take out anyone who opposed him and could add their wealth to his own. Moments later he ascended to the highest political office in the Republic, without the effort and expense of a public election. And to top it all off, Caesar managed to drain the entire contents of the Republic’s treasury. In short, through Caesar the Alpha had complete dominion of the civilized world.”
Jeffrey shook his head in disbelief. “I don’t buy it. You’ve already told me the Alpha have been reduced to a life force with no body. You cannot tell me they can command so much influence without a physical presence to back it up.
Yes Julius Caesar has complete control over the Republic, but that does not translate to the Alpha.”
“Oh it most certainly does,” Hastelloy fired back with uncharacteristic frustration. “Soldiers charged entrenched machine gun positions in World War I for the honor of their country; a formless idea.
In the Medieval era noblemen left their families and opulent estates for the Crusades. They fought to reclaim the holy land for their church; a formless idea. Islamic extremists strap bombs to their chest and blow themselves up in shopping malls for the promise of gifts in the afterlife; a formless idea.”
“Alright, alright,” Dr. Holmes interrupted. “You’ve made your point. The Alpha had complete control of the Roman Republic through the blind
devotion of Caesar to them.
“It looks to me like controlling Caesar is a toss up between you and the Alpha,” Jeffrey went on. “They pose as his Gods while Tomal and Valnor
are his most trusted advisors. Heck, Tomal was just appointed Prefect, so he is in charge of the city of Rome itself.
“Ah, but is that truly a good or bad thing?” Hastelloy asked. “The lingering questions are could Tomal be trusted and how much of his new found power would go to his head.”
Professor Russell watched
the flat display screen just outside his captivity cage. Onscreen he saw the strike team making their way up the ramp and into the chamber that sat only a few feet away from his spot of captivity. So close, yet so far away.
Both he and Alex sprung to their feet to shout warnings at the top of their lungs in the hopes the sound would somehow escape the vault
holding them. Both knew all too well what was about to happen, having experienced the sensation of being paralyzed by the antenna’s blue ray only a week before.
Alas, their warnings did not escape the soundproof walls of the chamber and they watched helplessly as one of the soldiers entered the chamber only to be captured in the clutches of that mysterious security device.
“That is enough,” Dr. Andre protested as he walked over to the cage to bring the display into his line of sight. “No sound escapes these walls, so please spare our eardrums and just watch in silence.”
Dr. Andre’s younger companion paced over to watch the action as well. “Ah, they've encountered our security sy
stem. Let’s see how my favorite NSA agent deals with that little obstacle.”
The professor saw a soldiers belly crawl up to the top of the ramp and bring a high powered sniper rifle to bear on the antenna. He would have shouted for them not to bother, but to do so was useless. In a moment of déjà vu, reminiscent of when Frank fired his rifle at the antenna, an energy shield of some sort deflected the bullet away from the target. Two more rounds fired by the sniper gave the same results and the frustrated soldier then slithered back down the ramp.
“Why does everyone try to destroy the emitter rather than disable it,” Dr. Andre asked to no one in particular. He then turned and looked at Frank. “I am seriously asking. Shooting it was your first instinct as well, why? Is it just in your nature to be so violent, or was that drilled into you as part of your NSA training?”
A frustrated huff was the only answer forthcoming before they all watched a fist sized cylinder get tossed up the ramp. It came to rest a few feet away from the vault door and unleashed a blinding burst of light which
the view screen automatically dampened to keep it within a tolerable visual spectrum.
“Oh now that was just cruel,” Dr. Andre said in great disgust. “Throwing a flash bang grenade into a room you know one of your own men is trapped inside - despicable.”
“And ineffective,” the other man commented while pointing to the still functional blue beam.
Another fist sized object came up the ramp. This one was spherical shaped, and rolled into the far corner against the external door access terminal. The ball emitted a strobing blue pulse that started off almost imperceptibly faint, but soon grew in intensity to the point it looked like a bolt of lightning striking the room every couple
of seconds.
The paralysis beam soon started cutting out as the electromagnetic interference from the grenade took hold of the room. Soon the camera feeding the image to the view screen also began flickering in rhythm with the pulses.
“That EMP grenade will do the trick,” the younger man commented. “We don’t want to lose our eyes in the room so let’s shut down the beam before that device does it for us.”
On screen the action appeared to move in slow motion as an image flashed through the white static every half second. It reminded Professor Russell of watching a
Claymation cartoon with his children, but this was as real as it got. Their success outside the room held his potential freedom in the balance.
He watched the soldier once held in the clutches of the paralysis beam collapse to the ground in an unconscious heap. The instant that happened, two men stormed up the ramp. One took the butt of his assault rifle and bashed the antenna until nothing functional remained.
“Yes!” Frank, Alex and Professor Russell collectively shouted.
The second man ran over and deactivated the flashing sphere, resulting in the image on screen instantly changing back to a fluid, real time picture. Slowly, and with great trepidation, five more soldiers and the NSA agent crept up the ramp and entered the outer chamber.
As soon as they gained confidence that the defenses were down, the soldiers went about setting up their lighting equipment while their engineer took a closer look at the door locking mechanism and took his time evaluating the likelihood of forcibly opening the door.
“Almost there,” Professor Russell sighed, but didn’t really believe the words considering his captors were the ones to shut down the beam. Things were still progressing according to their plan he feared.