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“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, Captain,” 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.

Chapter Sixteen

Still living General Neptus’ memories, my eyes open at four in the morning sharp, a consequence of living a soldier’s life for this long. The sun will not rise for a few hours so I prepare for the day in the dim yellow light of the room. Stepping out of the bed, I smooth out the few wrinkles on the clean white sheets. Moving to the wash basin, I strip off my undergarments and give myself a quick rinse with the cool water from the carafe. My old body shakes from the chill of the water and the nipping of the air.

Clean, I walk over to the small chest of drawers. Opening its top drawer, I find a fresh, neatly folded uniform. I remove it and set it on the freshly made bed. Opening the dresser’s other drawers, I find the remainder of my uniform. Pulling on the clean clothes feels good against my taut, clean skin. I finish putting on my uniform by returning my gun belt to my waist. The buckle claps together securely. Looking down at my pistol, I get the feeling it will be in my hand today.

As I exit the room, the stillness fades. The hall is bustling with soldiers. The swarm stops for a moment to stand at attention and throw me a salute as I walk past them. They go back to their myriad tasks as quickly as the stopped them.

When I enter the main hall, the cold morning air rushes in through the cavernous opening in the room causing a dramatic drop in temperature. Keeping my bearing in front of the soldiers, I suppress the shiver. The communications appear to be fully connected and established. The captain is standing in the middle of the room checking over a list in his hand.

“Good morning, Captain. I see you’ve set up the communications array already.”

“Yes, sir, my men had that done a few hours ago. Now we’re trying to get the place cleaned up for when Cornelius gets here.”

“What time do you think he will arrive?”

“I’m being told noon.”

“Typical civilian, the day is already over by then. Have a phone brought down to the sitting room next to the holding cell. I will wait for him there.”

“Very good sir, I’ll have that done right away.”

The captain disappears into the swarming soldiers to carry out my task. Impatient, but without the power to do anything until Cornelius arrives with his entourage, I make my way back into the sitting room. Sipping on brandy, I light a cigar. Sitting in the high-backed leather chair, I fill the room with grey smoke.

Not long after I arrived in the room and began puffing on my cigar, soldiers arrived with my phone. Within moments of them connecting it, it rings.

I am consumed in details of troop movements and crushing the remaining pockets of resistance, and the hours until noon pass quickly. Daedalus walks through the sitting room door. Setting the receiver down, I sit up in my chair, all the while tracking his movements with my eyes.

“Seems you got an early start this morning, I haven’t had a chance to speak with you yet, but I went ahead and took care of those soldiers from yesterday.”

“How?”

“I ordered them to follow me out into the rubble. I told them we were looking for a lost encrypted radio. They ate it up. No one should ever find the bodies, and if they do there won’t be anything suspicious about finding two dead soldiers in the middle of a battlefield.”

“What were their names?”

“What does that matter?”

“What were their names?”

“With all due respect I don’t see why…”

I rise from the chair with ferocity. The table topples over. The phone crashes to the floor with an ear-splitting clang.

“Answer the damn question, Colonel! Or have you forgotten you are speaking to a superior officer?”

Daedalus is taken aback, but his indignant tone remains the same.

“Of course not, sir. Their names were Private Graffe, and Corporal King. They shouldn’t be missed. I took the liberty and assigned them to one of the units sweeping for pockets of resistance. Even if somebody follows the paper trail it won’t lead back to you.”

“You’d better damned well hope so.”

Daedalus pours his own glass of brandy then works his way over to the fallen telephone. Setting it and the table upright, he sits down from across where I’m standing.

“The preparations for Cornelius’s arrival are almost complete. He should be here within the hour. We should talk about our game plan.”

“Our game plan? Don’t you realize that if this goes south the ax will fall on my head? You’ll be able to get off on the defense that you were just following orders. I don’t have that luxury. I’ve thought through my course of action. Thank you for helping me get to this point, but these last steps are mine, and mine alone, to take.”

“Then where do I end up when this all shakes out?”

“If everything goes to plan you’ll end up ahead, don’t worry about that.”

“Well then, best of luck to you sir.”

Daedalus knocks back the rest of his brandy then stands abruptly.

“Come on sir, your moment awaits.”

The entrance foyer was cleaned of loose debris. Large blue banners of the Great Society hang around the room attempting to cover the blast holes and scorch marks. Nothing has been done to hide the large stones from the roof that crashed to the floor. Too little time, I suppose.

Stepping through the entryway, I see the battlefield in front of the steps has been significantly cleaned up. The hulking wrecks of tanks have been dragged away. The many craters pocketing the clearing surrounding the parliament have been filled in. The bodies must have been piled into the trenches and covered over. The bodies of revolutionary and republican soldiers mounded on top of each other. If the city surrounding the field were not a smoldering ruin, and the parliament building itself gaping from fresh wounds, it would be hard to tell a battle took place here less than a day ago. The soldiers, finished with their cleaning, have washed the blood and dirt from their faces and now stand at attention throughout the entrance hall and on every step of the marble stair leading to it. At the top of the step, a small wooden platform has been hastily assembled, a steel microphone its lone adornment. Connected to the communications setup inside and an array of hanging speakers in the parliament, the microphone hums with power. Whatever is said in that microphone will be heard throughout the nation.

A strong wind blows across the field. It carries with it the smell of burning and death. The wind blows past the parliament and through the thick black smoke still billowing from the city. Through the momentary clearing, the revolutionary convoy appears, bringing Cornelius to give his victory speech. Two dozen cars are draped in banners. Camera crews have set themselves up in the field eager to snap a picture of the revolution’s leader. Standing near the microphone, I watch as they pass through the smoke and roll slowly over the covered-up battlefield. Cornelius rides in the first car. Standing up so the photographers can better find him in their frames, Cornelius slows the convoy to allow the photographers to swarm in. Ceaseless flashes add to the spectacle which continues for a few minutes, until even at their snail’s pace, the convoy reaches the parliament steps.

Cornelius steps out of his car. Followed by a dozen handlers and crony politicians, he begins to climb the steps. As his foot lands on the first step I move to the microphone, ready to make my move.

“How dare you stroll on this hallowed ground? You are nothing but a charlatan who walks over the graves of the revolution’s true patriots.” I say the words into the microphone.

Two soldiers standing by the door rush over to me, rifles leveled on my chest.

“You aim your weapons at the wrong man, soldiers. You should be aiming at the man who would derail our great revolution at the very moment our Great Society is poised to spring to life from the fires of war. Ask him yourself if you do not believe me.”

Visibly angry, Cornelius finished his ascent up the stairs and uncomfortably took a position beside me at the podium.

“Stand down soldiers,” Cornelius says. “I would love to hear what General Neptus has to say. Please, General, tell me upon what are you basing these assumptions?”

The soldiers both lower their rifles and step back to either side of the door.

“Cornelius, great scholar, the man who inspired us all to dream of a Great Society. For ten long years I have fought to bring about your vision. But I have recently discovered the truth. Through every victory and every defeat you told us that in order to build the Great Society we would need to do so on a foundation free from the corrupting legacy of governments past. You promised the oppressed and downtrodden people of this once-corrupt republic that none who supported the old order would live long enough to see the creation of our Great Society. You promised them, and you lied. Cornelius the great revolutionary is here today to give you a victory speech, but also to pardon the Prime Minister and his surviving cabinet of all their past crimes. What do you say for yourself, Cornelius?”

Cornelius’s face soured but his lips remain sealed. A few of the members of his entourage seem genuinely shocked and appalled by my allegation. Taking a deep breath, Cornelius steps closer to the platform, and speaks into the microphone.

“Let us all take a moment and remember the many fallen patriots of the revolution. It is through their sacrifice that we stand here victorious today. I do not approve of the manner in which general Neptus has brought about this revelation, but it is one you all must be made aware of. What he says is true. I have already signed a full pardon for the former Prime Minister and the remaining thirteen members of his cabinet. I have done this not because I want to go back on my promises to you, but to show you a better way. We have emerged from a decade of bloodshed. Can we not start the next one with mercy and forgiveness?”

Shouts of “betrayer” and “liar” come from too many mouths to count. Stepping back into the microphone I carry the momentum.

“This charlatan speaks to you now as if you are children. He would free men who upheld a corrupt state with the edge of a sword. He offers you mercy and forgiveness when what you desire is retribution and revenge for a lifetime of grievances and sacrifices. He may have led us into the light all those years ago, but now he’s leading us onto a path of weakness expecting all of us to follow. I, for one, will no longer follow this swindler. I was once in servitude to the Prime Minister and his corrupt goons. I am familiar with the feeling of being in the presence of a snake. So believe me when I tell you that, with Cornelius standing here now, I sense his devious nature.”

“This is preposterous,” says Cornelius. “You are staging a coup in broad daylight without a cohort of supporters standing at your back? Soldier, detain the general until we can provide him with a court martial.”

The soldiers lining the stair and standing guard in the hall fidget with uncertainty. Enlisted soldiers look to their officers, the officers look to each other and then to me.

“Arrest this man for treason at once!” Cornelius shouts. His calm façade crumbles away.

No soldier moves. The air is tense. Cornelius glares at me with rage-filled eyes.

“Soldiers of the Revolutionary Army, brave patriots of the Great Societal Revolution, mark my words,” I say. “The Prime Minister of the former republic will hang by the neck until dead for the crimes he has committed against us all. I will personally lead the hunt for all of the republic’s supporters. None of the old order will stand when we begin to rebuild our society. And the first subversive I would have you take out is this traitorous back-stabber!” With as much drama as I can muster, I turn my body and extend my arm and index finger like a sword thrust at Cornelius’s heart.

Many of the soldiers and politicians remain frozen, but enough of them act to turn the tide. A soldier rushes forward and grabs Cornelius’s arm. Cornelius pulls back in defense. The soldier reaches in again to grab him. Leaning back to avoid the grasp, Cornelius slips on the edge of the slick marble step.

A sickening crack issues from his neck as he lands on hard white stone. Seeing what he has done, the soldier freezes in panic. Politicians swarm around Cornelius’s writhing body like vultures.

“Step aside!”

My voice is commanding. The politicians jump back and the soldiers snap to attention. Head and shoulders held high, I descend the four steps to Cornelius with a slow methodic pace. Looking down into Cornelius’s face, I see bewilderment in his now teary eyes. The snap on my holster pops open loudly in the stillness of the scene. With a smooth motion, I draw the pistol from my holster and level it at Cornelius’s brow.

“Long live the revolution! Long live the Great Society!”

My finger squeezes the trigger. The shot echoes over the freshly tilled field then bounces down the shattered corridors of parliament. For a moment all is silent. The shock and nature of what just transpired leaves those who witnessed it stunned. Stepping through the door, Colonel Daedalus stands behind the microphone.

“Long live General Antonius Neptus, savior of the revolution!”

The throng gathered echo his rallying cry. Far off, in ten thousand homes, I can almost hear the people shouting it too.