Hail Caesar

[zeeter]

Agent Sands took one last look at the business card: Giraldo Rivera, Tenochtitlan Daily News. He then placed the card in the shredder.

Now on to more pressing matters, he thought. A meeting with Hasdrubal, King Hannibal's brother. Sands would just be sitting in on this meeting. Ambassador Fredricks would do most of the talking.

Walking down the halls, Sands wondered what was coming of America's relationship with Carthage. It had started out so well; Carthage was already a favored trade partner. Then the violence began. The bombings in American restaurants, and now this. Sitting at the conference room table, Sands wondered what would become of this.

"Agent Sands, remember: I'll do the talking. You are here only to observe," said Fredricks.

Sands looked at the ambassador. He a thin man with black, thick rimmed glasses. In fact, the man looked a bit squeamish.

"Gotcha," he replied, then made some notes on his notepad.

"He should be here soon," continued Fredricks. "You are the deputy ambassador. How should I introduce you?"

Sands looked up for a moment, then replied. "Uh...Ambassador Sands?"

"Yes, but what is your first name?" asked Fredricks.

"Agent."

"No, when I introduce you..." a knock came at the door. An aid presented Hasdrubal.

"Prince Hasdrubal," said Fredricks. "I am Ambassador Henry Fredricks." He gestured towards Sands. "With me is Deputy Ambassador Sands."

The prince and ambassador shook hands. Hasdrubal then turned to Sands. "Mr Deputy Ambassador, what is your first name?"

Sands was about to reply: "Ag-"

"May we get started, your highness?" interrupted Fredricks. The three men sat while the ambassador continued. "On March 3rd, a Carthaginian fishing trawler sent out an SOS claiming that they had lost their engines. The United States dispatched a submarine at great risk to rescue the fishermen. When we heard nothing from the Dallas nor the fishing trawler my government feared the worst, for both our sailors and yours."

"Yes," said Hasdrubal. "Is was a very unfortunate situation."

"Of course," continued Fredricks, annoyed by the interruption. "Yet this morning that very same fishing trawler, the Gorche, came in to port here in Carthage."

"It did," replied Hasdrubal. "We are conducting an internal investigation into this matter and will provide you with the results immediately upon completion."

"And when will this investigation be completed?" asked Fredricks.

"Two weeks. The investigators must examine the Gorche and interview the crew-members."

"I understand that there were only two crew-members on board when the trawler came in," continued Fredricks.

"Yes," replied Hasdrubal. "The captain and engineer were the only survivors. It was a tragic situation for both my country and yours."

Fredricks looked at the prince solemnly. "Your highness, the president wishes to send his deepest condolences to you and your countrymen for the lost crew of the Gorche. I await the details of your investigation."

"And King Hannibal sends his regards to the family members of the crew of the Dallas," replied Hasdrubal. Both he and Fredricks stood and shook hands as if to end the meeting.

"Was the trawler under its own power when she came in to port?" asked Sands suddenly. He was not one for this diplomatic protocol.

Fredricks turned to Sands. He had a worried look on his face for a moment, then turned back to Hasdrubal and smiled confidently. "I think that we can wait for the prince's report, Deputy Ambassador Sands."

Not good enough, thought Sands. "It's a simple question, Hasdrubal. Was the trawler under its own power or was she towed?"

"Mr Deputy Ambassador," replied Hasdrubal sternly. "You should listen to your mentor. He is much more wise in these matters than you. And you will address me as 'Prince Hasdrubal' or 'Your Highness' when speaking with me."

He was getting to him, thought Sands. "Well, at the risk of beginning a diplomatic incident, can you answer the damn question?"

"Mr Deputy Ambassador," said Fredricks. "You are excused."

"No need for that," interjected Hasdrubal. "I will take my leave."

"I want to be a part of this investigation," said Sands.

"I think not," replied the prince indignantly.

"Are you hiding something?"

"Sands!" shouted Fredricks.

Sands ignored the ambassador. "I want to inspect the trawler. I also want unsupervised meetings with the captain and engineer."

Hasdrubal looked Sands in the eye. "Where do you think you are, Deputy Ambassador Sands? This is not your country. You do not make the rules here. I will provide my report to the ambassador in two weeks. If you continue on this path I will see to it that your diplomatic status is revoked and you are expelled from this country." The prince stormed out of the room.

"Now you've done it, Sands," said Fredricks. "What on earth were you thinking?"

"Do you think that this report he's going to give you will say anything other than the engines died, then were restarted? They did something, and I'm going to find out what." Sands stood and left the room. Enough of this deputy ambassador stuff. He was a CIA agent, and it was about time he acted like one.

 

[zeeter]

"So much for the trial," Lepidus said, stating the obvious.

"It's sad," said Octavian. "We can put whatever we want into the newspapers here. But unless they were to hear it from the queen herself it will all be conjecture. As far as the Egyptian people know, we came here and overthrew the government."

"And still no nuclear missiles were found."

This was what bothered Octavian the most. He knew that Cleopatra had these weapons. They were in the country somewhere. But in a land that is mostly dessert where does one begin to look for them? The queen was wise to hide them. It made Octavian look bad. It made him seem an aggressor. His detractors on the senate were growing stronger and stronger every day that these weapons were not found.

"We'll find them. It is only a matter of time, Lepidus."

"How can our motives be questioned, is what I don't understand," said Lepidus. "She used these weapons on us. On the Americans."

"Yet she didn't succeed," replied Octavian. "Our goal here was to remove from power someone who has the capacity to anihilate the world. We removed her from power, yet the world now believes that she no longer had this power. Our people said that they saw the weapons. Now they're gone. Our oposition wants to use this against us. They know that the weapons were here, but the longer it takes for us the find them the more ammunition they have against us."

"Not only that," added Lepidus, "but we gave a state secret away to the Americans."

"We had to do that. It saved millions of lives."

Rameses entered the room. No doubt the man was frightened, thought Octavian, yet he stood proudly. Ready to receive his fate.

"General Rameses," Octavian began. "You were a part of the invasion of the Northern Province, were you not?"

"Yes, I was."

"Can you give me any reason why I shouldn't have you arrested and taken to Rome for trial?"

"No, Emperor," replied Rameses. "I fought for Egypt as all good soldiers did. It was my duty, and I would do it again."

"You're aware what happened to your boss, General Tut?" asked Lepidus.

Rameses lowered his head. "Yes. I am aware," he said. Tut did not go down quietly. He held out in his home for several days. On the third day the Romans convinced him to release his family. Two days later Tut came out fighting. He killed five Roman soldiers before falling.

"Why did you not take the same course of action?" asked Octavian.

Rameses looked up at Octavian sternly. "Tut fell like a criminal. And if I may say so, Queen Cleopatra did as well. They did not represent Egypt in the end. They represented themselves. They were cowards in the end."

"You find it more couragious to surrender to Roman soldiers than to go out fighting, like Tut did?" asked Lepidus.

Rameses turned to the junior Emperor. "What good did his death do? He was not killed in battle. The battle never began. He died as a criminal does. Desperate in the end. I stand before you now not because I wish you to judge me, but because you wish to judge me. I did not attempt to fight my way from your soldiers. It would have been futile."

Octavian liked what he heard. This man knew the value of human life. He knew honor and dishonor. Tut dishonored the men who fought for him by ending himself like a cornered rat. Rameses stood now for his men. Ready to accept Octavian's judgement.

"Rameses," said Octavian. "I will be establishing an interim government here in Alexandria. I will also leave your soldiers - and only your soldiers - with their weapons. They will be the country's security during the interim government. I want you to arrange for general elections to take place in six months. You will arrange for each of your territories to elect a representative. These representatives will create your constitution. After six more months you will hold an election for your president. During this period, you will lead the Egyptian people as their interim president, with my backing."

Octavian saw the suprise in Rameses' eyes. The man probably anticipated dying today, or at the least, being arrested.

"By the way, Rameses," added Lepidus. "I suggest that you run for the position of elected president. Egypt needs a stong president with morals and courage."

More shock and awe from Rameses. "We will take our leave back to Rome now," said Octavian. "I will leave a division here to help keep the peace. Do not be intimidated by them. They stay only to see that nobody interferes with your duties."

-----------------------------------------------

Agent Sands crept silently along the dark harbor. Just at the end of the pier some men were unloading materials from the trawler. It wasn't fish, thought Sands. He crept closer. There were three men. They were carrying what appeared to be log books and heavy boxes down the brow.

Sands walked slowly over to the men. As he came out of the darkness they stopped and looked at him.

"Hey, guys!" said Sands. "What are you doing?"

The three men looked at each other, perplexed. Finally one of them spoke. "This is a private dock."

Sands laughed. "I know. I'm agent Sands with the CIA." He held up his CIA identification to the dockworkers. "I need to know what you're unloading from that trawler."

"Do you have permission to be here?" the first dockworker asked.

"I told you," answered Sands. "I'm with the CIA."

The dockworkers again looked at each other, not certain exactly what to do. Sands decided to help them out.

"Here. Why don't you give me these books to look over while you keep pulling those boxes from the boats. Don't drive off with them yet. I need to see them," he warned.

The men continued to look at each other. Finally, the first dockworker put his box down, shrugged, and went back to work. Idiots, thought Sands. Where is the security in this country? He began to look through the logs. There was an engineering log and a ship's log. All with very good detail.

March 3rd was what he was looking for. Seeing the date in both logs, Sands found what he came for. No, the ship's engines were not giving them trouble. There was no record of them being shut down except for a thirty minute stretch beginning at 0900. Coincidentally, that was when the Dallas was supposed to be onsite to rescue them.

Sands knew that the boxes would contain plastic explosives. He didn't even need to look. Although he did anyway because he'd never seen plastic explosives before.

Taking the log books, Sands headed back down the pier.

"You can't take those!" shouted the dockworkers.

Sands turned around. "Yes I can," he held up his ID again. "I'm with the CIA." He continued to walk down the pier. Sands was not suprised that the dockworkers didn't follow him.

 

[jalapeno_dude]

"shock and awe?" Fruitless searches for WMD's? Interim governments? Do I detect a hint of current events?

It's getting even better!

 

[zeeter]

It had been many years since Octavian walked the streets of Caesaria. This had always been Antony's territory. Yet that was no more. Antony's funeral was held this morning. It was a solemn ceremony. Roosevelt attended, as did Rameses. Lepidus provided a heartwarming benediction. It had been suggested that Octavian himself give this benediction, however that was thought to be inapropriate due to the two men's relationship over the last few years.

Looking up, Octavian saw the cause of Antony's death. Without Antony's leadership the structure would have taken years to produce. Unfortunately, the tiring work and related stress took their toll on him. He passed several days ago.

This was Antony's monument to peace. The United Nations would forever be a place where great leaders went to solve their problems, rather than doing so on the battlefield. It was clear that Antony was remorseful of his actions with Cleopatra. This was both his apology and his plea to the world to stop the fighting.

There would be one more fight. This time, though, it would not be done on battlefields or at sea or in the air. This fight would be in the political offices throughout the world.

"Now is a time for action," said Octavian suddenly.

"What are your intentions?" asked Lepidus.

"Realistically, nobody but Roosevelt can challenge me for General Secretary," replied Octavian. "No doubt the Egyptians will side with us."

"Their vote will be cancelled by the Aztecs," Lepidus pointed out. "Without American involvement, Huascar would never have come to power."

"That leaves only Hannibal," Octavian said. "He hates the Americans, yet I wonder...does his hatred for them go beyond life and death? Would he abstain his vote so that he can continue to kill Americans?"

Lepidus looked suprised. "How could he? For every American he kills Roosevelt will kill a hundred Carthaginians."

"Does that matter to him?" asked Octavian. "My sources say that Hannibal cares of nothing but killing Americans."

"Why does he hate them so?"

"Hannibal is a proud man. The Americans defeated the French many years ago, killing his father in the process. Hannibal swore his revenge decades ago as a boy. Now he is acting on that anger."

"Can we get to him?" asked Lepidus.

"With what? We can't just attack them. They haven't provoked us. The senate will not allow a war for no reason."

"You control the senate, Octavian. They will listen to you."

Octavian stopped his walk and looked at Lepidus. "Times are different now. If I force the senate to declare war it will make a mockery of what we are doing in Egypt. We directed Rameses to create a representative government over there. We allied ourselves with them so that they would have assistance and security. If I were to force a war against Carthage we could lose Egypt's vote at the general assembly."

"Perhaps there is some other form of persuasion you could use."

"Perhaps. I will have to speak with Hannibal."

 

[General Brown]

Is this almost over?
I'd hate to see it end.

 

[Volum]

All good things must come to an end i guess

 

[EQandcivfanatic]

when it ends you could submit it to Apolyton's story contest. I think it could win.

 

[Moss]

Originally posted by EQandcivfanatic
when it ends you could submit it to Apolyton's story contest. I think it could win.

I think it would win by sheer scope and size alone. No other story that I have seen has ever been compiled of so many words, and over so long of time.

This story could be complete crap (which it certainly is not), and I would still give it an award for diligence and longstandingness.

 

[SSgtBaloo]

I loved the interaction between Agent Sands and the dockworkers! Hee-hee-hee! I saw similar goings-on during my stint in the military, though not to such an extreme. If you act as though you have every right to be doing what you are doing, especially when dealing with folks who are accustomed to imperious behavior from authority figures, you are apt to get away with d*mn near anything!

I found it both funny and believable.

--SSgtBaloo

 

[zeeter]

<snip>

 

[aneeshm]

Zeeter , a piece of advice . Copyright this thing before anyone else does . It is almost novel-length , and there are enough unscrupulous characters out there to steal this .

 

[zeeter]

Technically, this story may be the property of CivFanatics since it is their forum. I would hope that if they ever did anything with it they would involve me somehow.

 

[Moss]

No, it is copyright of the person who wrote it, which is you. And since this is the internet all you would have to do is prove that you are the in fact the zeeter on this forum, and you would have your copyright.

 

[General Brown]

Anybody think we should find Zeeter, capture him, and force him to finish the story lol. just kidding mate.

 

[CivsCivsCivs]

LOl hahaa so funny i love ur story Zeeter man so good

 

[General Brown]

Zeeter, i can't find the words to describe your story...
Marvelous!!!
(i even named a GL after you in one of my games!!!)

I made a civilization for you zeeter lol

 

[Globetrotter]

I made a civilization for you zeeter lol

LoL. Next steps will be books and movies!

 

[General Brown]

Worry about the finish here first lol

 

[zeeter]

Memphis was a pleasant place. The cradle of Egypt's agriculture, the city didn't have the expensive buildings of the bigger cities. The people there were poor, but they got along well. The streets were filled with performers of all kinds. Magicians thrilled the children with their tricks. Every corner had a guitar player singing old favorites. Clowns rode their unicycles up and down the sidewalks, stopping to entertain youngsters on their way. At the end of the day these street performers had little more than a few gold coins in thier purses, but that was enough.

It was a happy place, filled with happy people who didn't need stock exchanges or universities. They got by on their meager wages and didn't complain about it. There was crime in Memphis, but nothing major. The chief of police was reluctant to enforce the word of the law except in extreme circumstances. These people, far from the seat of power in Alexandria, could get away with skimming from the top of their grain shipments. They needed to feed their families, and Alexandria and Thebes were still getting more than enough grain to feed their populations.

Memphis was also an anonymous place. Outside of the city itself were vast fields of wheat as far as the eye could see. A person could get lost out there. The fields were like the middle of the ocean. Which way do you sail when everything looks the same? Someone wanting to hide could not do much better than to find a small farmhouse amidst these fields.

The citizens of Memphis were well aware of the anonymous nature of some if it's people. They were also well aware of the need to keep the government out of their back yard. Despite the vast populous of the city, the people kept to themselves. Outsiders were welcomed, but not accepted for a very long time. In other words, what happened in Memphis stayed in Memphis.

Brianna watched Alexander running with the dog in their back yard. He was a handsome young man; all of fourteen and with the look of his father. He was a happy boy, and each day Brianna loved him more and more.

Alexander remembered his mother, but only the good. Brianna was adamant in keeping his mother's position a secret. At the age of five the boy did not understand that he was a Prince of two nations. Now he didn't even think about it. He was Brianna's son, regardless of their blood differences. He called her Mom, and that was all that she needed.

There were no more secret meetings. No more dangerous missions. No more political games to play. There was just Alexander. The past few years had gotten even better. Now that Alexander was old enough to help in the fields they were able to double their grain production. It wasn't much; just enough to pay the bills and put some money away to send the boy to agriculture school.

Times had certainly changed from the elaborate parties held in great palaces throughout the world. Throughout her life, Brianna wanted to be a part of something. She wanted to be accepted by the Queen and her cabinet. She did what she could to remain abreast of world events.

Now these desires were mere memories. Brianna knew now that all along what she really wanted was to be accepted by herself. It took a mere boy to help her realize that. Alexander did not love her because of what she did in the past, but for who she was now. She did not have to earn his favor as she did for the elite in Alexandria. Brianna was there for him, and that was all that mattered. Not wealth or power. Just a reliance on each other and the knowledge that whatever happened, they still had each other.

"Mom! Look!" Alexander said as he and the dog ran back through the field. He was pointing to the dirt road that led to the house.

Brianna looked down the road and her heart sank. A large limosine was coming towards the house.

"Get inside the house, Alex," she said softly.

Alexander looked at Brianna, then back at the car. "But mom!"

Brianna looked at him. "No buts. Get in the house. Now!"

Watching the car drive up, Brianna thought of the shotgun that they used to drive birds away from the crops. It was in her room. There wasn't time.

The car drove up and stopped a few feet from Brianna. She waited a few moments for the back door to open. Eventually, the driver exited. Instead of opening the back door, he approached her.

"Brianna! It's good to see you!" he said.

Brianna recognized him immediately. He was American, and unforgettable. He wore a sportjacket overtop of a white t-shirt. The t-shirt said, of course, "CIA" in big, bold letters.

"Agent Sands," she looked longingly out into the fields rather than at the CIA agent. "It's been a long time."

"Yes it has," replied Sands with a huge smile. "Yes it has."

"What do you want?"

"Can't two colleagues visit one another without expecting something?"

"No, not you, Sands," replied Brianna. "What do you want."

"Ok, you've got me," said Sands. "I need your help with something."

"What is it?"

"It is a delicate matter involving someone of great importance in Alexandria."

Alexandria, Brianna thought. She hadn't been there in almost a decade. "I don't do that kind of work anymore, Sands."

"Yes, I know. You're a farmer now," replied Sands sarcastically. "I can tell by your house that you're doing quite well."

Brianna looked at her house. The paint was peeling from the walls and several of the upstairs windows were broken. Off to the side of the house the shed was still without a roof; the result of a tornado two years ago.

"We get by quite well," she said finally.

"Yes, yes," said Sands. "And how is your boy? Will you be sending him to school?"

"I don't know. Leave him out of this."

"I'm just saying, Brianna, that if you help me out here, I can see that Alexander goes to the finest farming school in America."

"We have plenty of farming schools here in Egypt. We'll get by. Please don't bother me with this. We only want to be left alone. I haven't been in the life for a long time."

"I understand, Brianna," said Sands. "In fact, I feel for you. Sometimes I wish that I could get away from all of this. The danger, the excitement, the women. It's a tough life. Awe, who am I kidding. I love it. But you, I only hope that my Supervisor understands your situation. I told him that you were a good girl now. Had a son. Living off of the land. It's really a Hallmark Hall of Fame type of life you have here. That's why it will be so hard when I tell my boss that I've found you and Caesarian."

Brianna's blood went cold. "His name is Alexander."

Sands looked at her for a few moments silently.

Finally he said, "How is Caesarian, anyway?"

-----------------------------------------------------

 

[Moss]

Glad to see your still writing...