Hail Caesar
- Thread starter zeeterus
- Start date
Two wars were fought on the Italian homeland long ago. So long ago, in fact, that Ocatavian was just a small boy at the time. He did not remember the fear that struck people when first the Iroquois and then the Aztecs held lands in Italy.
To know that at any time violence could erupt in his lands was not a situation that Octavian had experience with. Certainly the Unfinished Isle and the Northern Provinces were dangerous in the past, but the people in those lands knew the dangers and were willing to live with them.
Home was a different matter entirely. Octavian tried to understand Roosevelt's position. The American president had much to deal with. At any moment he could be called to the situation room to discuss a bombing in his homeland. His people were torn over how best to end the violence.
Octavian looked out the palace window in Rome at the central courtyard. He remembered sneaking peaks at Caesar and Cleopatra while they sat talking in that very courtyard. Caesarian would play while they talked. That was a long time ago. A simpler time. Battle lines were drawn. The enemy was Hiawatha and Montezuma. Sometimes, Lincoln stood on the side of the enemy. Egypt and Rome were always friends. Out of necessity mostly. Egypt needed protection. Rome needed an ally.
Rome stood alone for decades against much of the world. They stood proudly, but it was costly. Each man that fell in their wars was Roman. The addition of Egypt helped save Rome by evening the playing field, if only a little. Now each man that fell could be either Roman or Egyptian. Suddenly the odds were more favorable towards Caesar.
Now Rome stood alone again, however so did its biggest adversary. While Rome and America were not quite enemies, they were rivals. The two countries respected each other tremendously. Each knew that the other wanted only what was best. Octavian hoped that Roosevelt's policy was still the same.
"We need to stop this violence," he said.
"The Americans are not the cause of the violence," replied Roosevelt. "We want it to stop more than anything."
"For almost ten years you've wanted it to stop, yet it still moves on."
"Hannibal's people will stop at nothing to kill Americans. They see it as their duty from birth," answered Roosevelt.
"Yes, Hannibal," replied Octavian. "He hides on the strees of Carthage, directing violence at his own whim."
"The man is pure evil," Lepidus interjected.
"Yet there is a peaceful solution," said Octavian.
"Octavian, my advisors and I have been over every scenario possible. There is no peaceful solution short of killing Hannibal."
"Bah. Killing Hannibal will only make him a martyr. Besides. You need him."
Roosevelt laughed. "Yes, like I need a hole in my head. I'm telling you, we've had our best people on this. Killing Hannibal will destroy their leadership. His brother is incapable of rousing the people like he is."
"His brother only needs to say Hannibal's name a few times. That's all the Carthaginians need to hear," Octavian retorted. "No, there is another option."
Roosevelt sighed. No doubt he was not keen on receiving advice from Octavian. "Ok, Octavian. What do you suggest?"
Octavian turned sharply and looked the president in the eye. "You can vote for me at the next General Assembly meeting."
Roosevelt's jaw dropped. He looked at Octavian in shock. "What...." he couldn't help but start to laugh. "I'm sorry. What did you just say?"
"Think about it, Mr. President," said Lepidus. "Hannibal will no longer be fighting Americans. He will be fighting the world. His power will be diminished."
Octavian agreed. "Should you take over Carthaginian lands it will only mean more violence against your people. If you vote for me at the UN I will ensure that the violence ends."
"First of all," said Roosevelt, "my people would never forgive me for electing you as Secretary General. They have pride in knowing that they are the greatest country on the planet.
"Second of all, if I may be so bold, I hold the same ambitions as you, Octavian. Wouldn't the same be accomplished if you voted for me?"
"No. In fact it would weaken you," said Lepidus.
"If I voted for you then the world would know that I did so only to stop the violence in Carthage. You would be a lame duck Secretary. The world would see me as a martyr, and you as a tyrant. By voting for me you would become a hero. You would be giving up great power to your rival for the better good."
"And let Hannibal get away with his actions? He shows up out of nowhere as a bumbling old man but he's sly. He know how to hurt Americans. Not by direct assaults, but by small, anonymous acts of violence. He is simply evil."
"Yes," replied Octavian. He turned around and looked out the window again. "He is evil. But the world needs him."
"The world needs him dead," said Roosevelt.
Octavian went on. "The world needs him so that we may move forward." He turned back towards Roosevelt. "Don't you see, Mr President? You and I. Our countries. We've always fought for what is good and right in the world. Perhaps our actions were misguided, but our intentions were always good.
"Without Hannibal what is good? Our rivalry will continue, and eventually either in our lifetimes or our successor's we will come to blows. One of us will be the evil in the world. Or Huascar or Rameses will take on the roll.
"We don't know what the future will hold, but we do know that there will be good and evil. They go hand in hand, for without evil there can be no good. Look at us. We consider ourselves the greatest nations on earth, yet we look down on the poorer nations.
"The Aztecs. We consider them mere pawns in the world. When they speak at the UN we're polite, but do their opinions matter? They're Aztecs. We look down our noses at them and assume that they will go along with whatever we say. They dominate nothing, and therefore are irrelevant to us. They know it. They live in a world where they are overshadowed by us. To Huascar I'm sure that you and I are evil. But Huascar needs your protection.
"Hannibal doesn't need protection. His people have followed him for generations, and will do so until they die. In a sense they are fighting for their independence. To be recognized by the rest of the world by saying 'here we are. You may not like us, but you have to deal with us.'"
"Hannibal wants Americans dead," said Roosevelt. "Not Romans or Egyptians or Aztecs. Only Americans. It's more than recognition that they want."
"Yes," replied Octavian. "It is more. But you cannot fix that. It happened long before you were relevant to the world. No matter what you do the Carthaginians will hate you. And I agree. To pull back now would be worse than finishing them off. It will validate what Hannibal has done. They'll push further next time, knowing that they'll get what they want."
"What has all of this to do with you?" asked Roosevelt.
"It has nothing to do with me. This is why you must vote for me at the General Assembly. The world will accept no other leader."
Roosevelt sat silently for a few moments, then began to wheel himself towards the door. Lepidus stood to assist the President. "I'll think about it, Octavian," Roosevelt said as a Secret Service operative wheeled him away.
To know that at any time violence could erupt in his lands was not a situation that Octavian had experience with. Certainly the Unfinished Isle and the Northern Provinces were dangerous in the past, but the people in those lands knew the dangers and were willing to live with them.
Home was a different matter entirely. Octavian tried to understand Roosevelt's position. The American president had much to deal with. At any moment he could be called to the situation room to discuss a bombing in his homeland. His people were torn over how best to end the violence.
Octavian looked out the palace window in Rome at the central courtyard. He remembered sneaking peaks at Caesar and Cleopatra while they sat talking in that very courtyard. Caesarian would play while they talked. That was a long time ago. A simpler time. Battle lines were drawn. The enemy was Hiawatha and Montezuma. Sometimes, Lincoln stood on the side of the enemy. Egypt and Rome were always friends. Out of necessity mostly. Egypt needed protection. Rome needed an ally.
Rome stood alone for decades against much of the world. They stood proudly, but it was costly. Each man that fell in their wars was Roman. The addition of Egypt helped save Rome by evening the playing field, if only a little. Now each man that fell could be either Roman or Egyptian. Suddenly the odds were more favorable towards Caesar.
Now Rome stood alone again, however so did its biggest adversary. While Rome and America were not quite enemies, they were rivals. The two countries respected each other tremendously. Each knew that the other wanted only what was best. Octavian hoped that Roosevelt's policy was still the same.
"We need to stop this violence," he said.
"The Americans are not the cause of the violence," replied Roosevelt. "We want it to stop more than anything."
"For almost ten years you've wanted it to stop, yet it still moves on."
"Hannibal's people will stop at nothing to kill Americans. They see it as their duty from birth," answered Roosevelt.
"Yes, Hannibal," replied Octavian. "He hides on the strees of Carthage, directing violence at his own whim."
"The man is pure evil," Lepidus interjected.
"Yet there is a peaceful solution," said Octavian.
"Octavian, my advisors and I have been over every scenario possible. There is no peaceful solution short of killing Hannibal."
"Bah. Killing Hannibal will only make him a martyr. Besides. You need him."
Roosevelt laughed. "Yes, like I need a hole in my head. I'm telling you, we've had our best people on this. Killing Hannibal will destroy their leadership. His brother is incapable of rousing the people like he is."
"His brother only needs to say Hannibal's name a few times. That's all the Carthaginians need to hear," Octavian retorted. "No, there is another option."
Roosevelt sighed. No doubt he was not keen on receiving advice from Octavian. "Ok, Octavian. What do you suggest?"
Octavian turned sharply and looked the president in the eye. "You can vote for me at the next General Assembly meeting."
Roosevelt's jaw dropped. He looked at Octavian in shock. "What...." he couldn't help but start to laugh. "I'm sorry. What did you just say?"
"Think about it, Mr. President," said Lepidus. "Hannibal will no longer be fighting Americans. He will be fighting the world. His power will be diminished."
Octavian agreed. "Should you take over Carthaginian lands it will only mean more violence against your people. If you vote for me at the UN I will ensure that the violence ends."
"First of all," said Roosevelt, "my people would never forgive me for electing you as Secretary General. They have pride in knowing that they are the greatest country on the planet.
"Second of all, if I may be so bold, I hold the same ambitions as you, Octavian. Wouldn't the same be accomplished if you voted for me?"
"No. In fact it would weaken you," said Lepidus.
"If I voted for you then the world would know that I did so only to stop the violence in Carthage. You would be a lame duck Secretary. The world would see me as a martyr, and you as a tyrant. By voting for me you would become a hero. You would be giving up great power to your rival for the better good."
"And let Hannibal get away with his actions? He shows up out of nowhere as a bumbling old man but he's sly. He know how to hurt Americans. Not by direct assaults, but by small, anonymous acts of violence. He is simply evil."
"Yes," replied Octavian. He turned around and looked out the window again. "He is evil. But the world needs him."
"The world needs him dead," said Roosevelt.
Octavian went on. "The world needs him so that we may move forward." He turned back towards Roosevelt. "Don't you see, Mr President? You and I. Our countries. We've always fought for what is good and right in the world. Perhaps our actions were misguided, but our intentions were always good.
"Without Hannibal what is good? Our rivalry will continue, and eventually either in our lifetimes or our successor's we will come to blows. One of us will be the evil in the world. Or Huascar or Rameses will take on the roll.
"We don't know what the future will hold, but we do know that there will be good and evil. They go hand in hand, for without evil there can be no good. Look at us. We consider ourselves the greatest nations on earth, yet we look down on the poorer nations.
"The Aztecs. We consider them mere pawns in the world. When they speak at the UN we're polite, but do their opinions matter? They're Aztecs. We look down our noses at them and assume that they will go along with whatever we say. They dominate nothing, and therefore are irrelevant to us. They know it. They live in a world where they are overshadowed by us. To Huascar I'm sure that you and I are evil. But Huascar needs your protection.
"Hannibal doesn't need protection. His people have followed him for generations, and will do so until they die. In a sense they are fighting for their independence. To be recognized by the rest of the world by saying 'here we are. You may not like us, but you have to deal with us.'"
"Hannibal wants Americans dead," said Roosevelt. "Not Romans or Egyptians or Aztecs. Only Americans. It's more than recognition that they want."
"Yes," replied Octavian. "It is more. But you cannot fix that. It happened long before you were relevant to the world. No matter what you do the Carthaginians will hate you. And I agree. To pull back now would be worse than finishing them off. It will validate what Hannibal has done. They'll push further next time, knowing that they'll get what they want."
"What has all of this to do with you?" asked Roosevelt.
"It has nothing to do with me. This is why you must vote for me at the General Assembly. The world will accept no other leader."
Roosevelt sat silently for a few moments, then began to wheel himself towards the door. Lepidus stood to assist the President. "I'll think about it, Octavian," Roosevelt said as a Secret Service operative wheeled him away.
General Brown
Go Boston Sports!
Excellent addition !
"And look at this one!"
Agent Sands was being entertained by young Alexander. He truly was a remarkable boy.
"See? The peas are just starting to blossom." Alexander was holding up a potted plant. "I've been feeding it a special formula."
Sands at first was trying to feign amazement, but as he looked at the plant he truely was impressed. "You really have a knack for this, don't you?"
"Naw. I just like it."
"You'll make a good farmer someday, Alexander," said Sands.
Brianna stood at the stove pouring coffee. "He's well on his way, Sands," she said, then turned to Alexander. "Ok, Alex. Take your plants and go in the other room. Agent Sands and I have to talk about some things."
Alexander took the plants that he was showing off with in the other room and began mixing up new feed formulas.
"He's a good boy," said Sands. "Very outgoing. Odd, since he's so far from civilization."
"Alex has his father's confidence and his mother's charm," Brianna replied.
"A dangerous combination," said Sands. No doubt the boy would make a good politician. No wonder Brianna brought him here. Octavian was a good man, but a smart man. He had eliminated all of his rivals save Lepidus, who was more or less a figurehead on the Unfinished Isle. While Alexander was not yet a rival, he could be someday, and his blood relation to Caesar would make him very popular with the Romans.
"Yes, it is dangerous. I worry about him all the time. I want to keep him out of Alexandria, both for his safety and to shield him from the politics of the world. We don't even have a television here."
"I see that," said Sands. "That means that you have no idea of what's happening now."
"I pick things up from time to time when we run in to Memphis for supplies. Rameses seems to be running things well. The people are happy with him."
"According to my bosses, they are too happy with him."
"What are you trying to say, Sands?"
"We've got to fix some plumbing in Alexandria." Fixing the plumbing was agent-speak for assasinating someone. This term was more common in Rome, but Sands liked the way it sounded.
"I see," said Brianna. "You seem bitter about something."
"No, nothing about you. I'm angry with the limo company. The dispatcher saved my car for me, but never assigned a driver. I had to drive over here myself. We had a big shouting match."
"You want me to kill the dispatcher?" asked Brianna.
"No, I'll do that. I have to return the limo anyway. What I need you to do is take care of Rameses."
"I can't do this, Sands. I've changed. I can't kill anyone anymore."
"I promise you, Brianna, that this will be the last that you'll ever see me. Nobody will know that you're here. You'll be free to live out your life in peace. I'll even arrange a scholarship for Alexander."
"What if I refuse?" Brianna asked as she placed a cup of coffee in front of the CIA agent.
Sands thought for a moment. He truly hated what he was about to say, and hoped that he wouldn't be the one to do it. "Brianna, I will have to tell my superiors that you refused to cooperate."
Brianna sat down accross from Sands and closed her eyes. "We have a long history."
"Yes, we've been all over. We worked together in Rome, Caesaria, and all over Zululand." Sands was brought back to a small, nameless town in Zululand. Both he and Brianna were on secret assignments. Both of these assignments were jeapardized when they saw each other. But their relationship began here. It was an odd relationship. Neither trusted the other, but that was what made it exciting. During that time Sands wasn't sure if Brianna would kiss him or shoot him. The feeling was exhilerating, and she was the first person ever to get between him and a mission; a fact which Director Ryan frequently reminded him. Since then Sands had not allowed another woman to interfere with his job.
There had been other women, but none of them affected him the way that Brianna did. The other women were temporary. Usually he met them in bars or strip clubs. Brianna was different. She could see through his bulls**t. In Zululnad, for once he had to be truly honest with someone about how he felt. He allowed himselft to be vulnerable,if only for a few weeks.
Sands was pretty sure that Brianna felt the same way. He had met her several times before Zululand. She was with Brutus at one point, and it was immediately clear to Sands that she was on assignment and had no feelings for the man. It was also Sands who let her know that the Roman intelligence agency, mostly criminals, was onto her. In effect, he saved her life. But in Zululand he offered her nothing. She had absolutely no operational reason to stay with him, yet she did anyway. No doubt, Sands thought, that she was happy not hiding behind a scheme anymore. She had nothing to hide from Sands in Zululand, and thus could be herself for once.
"My obligation is to Roosevelt, Brianna." Sands picked up his coffee to take a sip, then stopped suddenly, looking at the cup.
"Oh for heaven's sake," said Brianna irritably. She reached over, grabbed the cup from Sands, took a sip, and handed it back.
Sands waited a moment, shrugged, then began to drink his coffee. "Anyway, something very big is about to happen, and Rameses is in the way. The fact that I came here jeapardized the operation. I can't leave here without a commitment from you."
"I could get my shotgun out of the back and pretend you were never here. I can park your limo in the wheat fields."
"You could do that," said Sands. "But you won't. If I'm gone someone else will come to your door. Someone who doesn't give a s*** about you. Someone who would kill you and Alexander before you got done saying 'no'. Do you think that I was the first person assigned to this? I was in the middle of the whole Carthage thing when this plan was drawn up. I wouldn't let them send anyone else here."
"It seems then that I have no choice," said Brianna.
"I wish there was another way," Sands replied as he stood to leave. "Meet me outside the palace in two days."
Agent Sands was being entertained by young Alexander. He truly was a remarkable boy.
"See? The peas are just starting to blossom." Alexander was holding up a potted plant. "I've been feeding it a special formula."
Sands at first was trying to feign amazement, but as he looked at the plant he truely was impressed. "You really have a knack for this, don't you?"
"Naw. I just like it."
"You'll make a good farmer someday, Alexander," said Sands.
Brianna stood at the stove pouring coffee. "He's well on his way, Sands," she said, then turned to Alexander. "Ok, Alex. Take your plants and go in the other room. Agent Sands and I have to talk about some things."
Alexander took the plants that he was showing off with in the other room and began mixing up new feed formulas.
"He's a good boy," said Sands. "Very outgoing. Odd, since he's so far from civilization."
"Alex has his father's confidence and his mother's charm," Brianna replied.
"A dangerous combination," said Sands. No doubt the boy would make a good politician. No wonder Brianna brought him here. Octavian was a good man, but a smart man. He had eliminated all of his rivals save Lepidus, who was more or less a figurehead on the Unfinished Isle. While Alexander was not yet a rival, he could be someday, and his blood relation to Caesar would make him very popular with the Romans.
"Yes, it is dangerous. I worry about him all the time. I want to keep him out of Alexandria, both for his safety and to shield him from the politics of the world. We don't even have a television here."
"I see that," said Sands. "That means that you have no idea of what's happening now."
"I pick things up from time to time when we run in to Memphis for supplies. Rameses seems to be running things well. The people are happy with him."
"According to my bosses, they are too happy with him."
"What are you trying to say, Sands?"
"We've got to fix some plumbing in Alexandria." Fixing the plumbing was agent-speak for assasinating someone. This term was more common in Rome, but Sands liked the way it sounded.
"I see," said Brianna. "You seem bitter about something."
"No, nothing about you. I'm angry with the limo company. The dispatcher saved my car for me, but never assigned a driver. I had to drive over here myself. We had a big shouting match."
"You want me to kill the dispatcher?" asked Brianna.
"No, I'll do that. I have to return the limo anyway. What I need you to do is take care of Rameses."
"I can't do this, Sands. I've changed. I can't kill anyone anymore."
"I promise you, Brianna, that this will be the last that you'll ever see me. Nobody will know that you're here. You'll be free to live out your life in peace. I'll even arrange a scholarship for Alexander."
"What if I refuse?" Brianna asked as she placed a cup of coffee in front of the CIA agent.
Sands thought for a moment. He truly hated what he was about to say, and hoped that he wouldn't be the one to do it. "Brianna, I will have to tell my superiors that you refused to cooperate."
Brianna sat down accross from Sands and closed her eyes. "We have a long history."
"Yes, we've been all over. We worked together in Rome, Caesaria, and all over Zululand." Sands was brought back to a small, nameless town in Zululand. Both he and Brianna were on secret assignments. Both of these assignments were jeapardized when they saw each other. But their relationship began here. It was an odd relationship. Neither trusted the other, but that was what made it exciting. During that time Sands wasn't sure if Brianna would kiss him or shoot him. The feeling was exhilerating, and she was the first person ever to get between him and a mission; a fact which Director Ryan frequently reminded him. Since then Sands had not allowed another woman to interfere with his job.
There had been other women, but none of them affected him the way that Brianna did. The other women were temporary. Usually he met them in bars or strip clubs. Brianna was different. She could see through his bulls**t. In Zululnad, for once he had to be truly honest with someone about how he felt. He allowed himselft to be vulnerable,if only for a few weeks.
Sands was pretty sure that Brianna felt the same way. He had met her several times before Zululand. She was with Brutus at one point, and it was immediately clear to Sands that she was on assignment and had no feelings for the man. It was also Sands who let her know that the Roman intelligence agency, mostly criminals, was onto her. In effect, he saved her life. But in Zululand he offered her nothing. She had absolutely no operational reason to stay with him, yet she did anyway. No doubt, Sands thought, that she was happy not hiding behind a scheme anymore. She had nothing to hide from Sands in Zululand, and thus could be herself for once.
"My obligation is to Roosevelt, Brianna." Sands picked up his coffee to take a sip, then stopped suddenly, looking at the cup.
"Oh for heaven's sake," said Brianna irritably. She reached over, grabbed the cup from Sands, took a sip, and handed it back.
Sands waited a moment, shrugged, then began to drink his coffee. "Anyway, something very big is about to happen, and Rameses is in the way. The fact that I came here jeapardized the operation. I can't leave here without a commitment from you."
"I could get my shotgun out of the back and pretend you were never here. I can park your limo in the wheat fields."
"You could do that," said Sands. "But you won't. If I'm gone someone else will come to your door. Someone who doesn't give a s*** about you. Someone who would kill you and Alexander before you got done saying 'no'. Do you think that I was the first person assigned to this? I was in the middle of the whole Carthage thing when this plan was drawn up. I wouldn't let them send anyone else here."
"It seems then that I have no choice," said Brianna.
"I wish there was another way," Sands replied as he stood to leave. "Meet me outside the palace in two days."
looking forward to the next bit, though i am curious how you plan to bring an end to this. After all it has to finish before it can win the Apolyton Story Contest
General Brown
Go Boston Sports!
Superb, i had gave up on you lol
amirsan
King of all Kings
Is there a modern compiled version of this for MS Word? I want to provide it as a download story for SCC. 
General Brown
Go Boston Sports!
Wow we need to make this into a book, it would be a bestseller 
Globetrotter
...wherever i may roam...
amirsan said:Is there a modern compiled version of this for MS Word? I want to provide it as a download story for SCC.
I got one, as i started to add them into a word document ever since Zeeter started this story. I sent it to Zeeter a while ago, and i'm keeping adding each post as they come (i hope i did not miss any)
I will give it to Zeeter once it is done, and then, he'll decide whether to make it public or not
Sunlight crept through the clouds for the first time in a week. Roosevelt was feeling better. He had his aid wheel him hout to the balcony of the White House to enjoy the brief respite from the storm.
After a few moments, Dr. Jack Ryan joined him.
"Good morning, Mr. President," said the CIA director.
"Jack. How are you today?"
"Very well, sir."
"What do you have for me?"
"Carthage is still a mess."
"Yes, what else is new?" replied the president. "I don't know if even the American Flag flying over every Carthaginian city will stop the violence."
"Then why not pull out, sir?" asked Ryan. "We can't accomplish anything there."
Roosevelt looked at Ryan. He had long thought of this, but there was one thing that kept the troops there.
"Jack - we lose an average of a soldier a day in Carthage. Some days we don't lose any. Other days we lose five or six to truck explosions or some other kind of violence."
"That is my point, Mr President," said Ryan. "Americans are becoming angry that the violence continues and our boys are dying. And for no other cause than revenge for what they did here."
"Exactly, Jack," replied Roosevelt. "Revenge for what they did here. And our soldiers in Carthage are targets for all kinds of violence. Yet what you're missing is that the violence is all centered in Carthage. American civilians have not been targeted since that fateful day of the coordinated bombings. Eventually, we will get down to the very last terrorist. For every American casualty in Carthage we've captured or killed ten insurgents.
"It takes time to plan and coordinate an attack here in America. There's all sorts of red tape just to get into the country, not to mention getting the supplies they need. In Carthage it is easier. So why attack difficult targets here when they can attack easy targets in Carthage?"
"I see your point, Sir."
"I don't like it that our boys are dying over there. Don't like it one bit. Yet they are better prepared to handle violence than civilians here in America. They're trained for it. Every day they get better at preventing violence. Our people don't like the fact that our soldiers are dying over there, and we'll keep it that way. Lest we open ourselves up for attacks here."
Ryan stood awkwardly for a few moments. No doubt something else was on his mind, thought FDR.
"Is there anything else, Jack?"
"Yes, sir. The Egypt situation is moving along. Our man there has made contact with the old rule's agent and we'll have something set soon."
"I don't know anything about that," said Roosevelt.
"All due respect, best that you don't know, Sir."
--------------------------------------------------------------
"Who is this 'Sands' character," asked Lepidus. He was seated accross from Anthony Soprano.
"He's some dumb f*** who thinks he's a big shot."
"Is he a threat?"
"Maybe," replied Tony.
Lepidus wasn't liking recent events. Suddenly there was much ado about espionage in Egypt.
"Do you know what he's up to? Come on, Tony. Stop being so vague...."
"No. He's made contact with the old rule's underground is all that we know."
"I don't like what's going on here. Uncertainty could kill us all." Lepidus looked Tony in the eye. "Fix the plumbing."
-------------------------------------------------------------
Ptolemy saw what went wrong. He saw his sister's mistake. She had too much heart. Then when she lost her heart to Caesar's death she got desperate. Ptolemy wouldn't do that. He was in control. He was ambitious. He was also the true ruler of Egypt.
Who were the Romans to put Rameses in charge? That was Cleopatra's fault. She so desperately sought Uranium that she neglected to match the Romans military strength. There would be a stop to this. Sands was dealing with it, and soon Rameses would be out of the picture.
Ptolemy began to dream of taking the rulership of Egypt. First, he would purify it. Eliminate all those not of Egyptian blood. Then he would bring back the old ways. A king should be treated like a king, not a servant. This is what the Americans got wrong. All Roosevelt did was serve his people. Ptolemy would have none of that. As pharoah he would demand the respect that he deserved. The respect that Cleopatra had taken from him. The people should serve him, not the other way around.
Then, an alliance with the Americans. The Egyptian armies would conquer the Carthaginians and anex their lands for Egypt. Again, purifying the citizenship.
Cooperation with the other nations did not work. This was a testament to the fact that the only way to gain the respect of foreigners is to have them fear Egypt. Ptolemy would build a stronger Egypt. One that could withstand the test of time. One that wouldn't back down to Rome and America.
Yes. First would come Carthage. Then Mexico. Then Rome and America. No UN vote would stop him.
--------------------------------------------------------------
"A fleet of American ships is waiting offshore," said Agent Sands. "They're pretending to be conducting war games, but in fact they are standing by in case the Roman security forces try to interfere."
Brianna was trying to take all of this in. A coup-d-tat? And what of Rameses?
"I don't understand. How will the American ships deter the Romans?" she asked.
Sands looked at her and smiled. "The moment that Ptolemy takes the throne Roosevelt will sign an alliance with him. This means that any attack by the Romans will result in a war between America and Rome. Neither country wants that. After our jobs are over, the coup will be pretty much bloodless."
"P..Ptolemy?" Brianna was stunned. "He's to be the king?"
"He is the true ruler of Egypt...."
"He is a headstrong boy. That is all. Ptolemy does not know how to lead. He's been hand-fed for his whole life. He never learned what suffering truly is."
"Cleopatra was the same way. She was a delicate princess...."
Brianna cut him off. "Cleopatra was no delicate princess. She raised those boys from birth, when their mother died. She gave up her childhood to be with them. Cleopatra had her faults, but don't belittle what she did for those boys."
"Ok, you're right, Brianna," replied Sands. "In any event, though, with Ptolemy in the throne America has the votes it needs to win the General Assembly vote."
"Why would Ptolemy take the throne only to give up his power by putting Roosevelt at the head of the UN?"
"That is what our intelligence indicates."
"Your intelligence is wrong. I know Ptolemy. He has no morals. He stood by Arsinoe when she was to be queen. Then he stood by Cleopatra until Arsinoe returned. He switched sides so many times that Cleopatra didn't know who's side he was on at the end."
"Nonetheless, our intelligence is good. I've even spoken with Ptolemy. He seems reasonable.
Brianna wasn't liking this at all. Kill Rameses? Overthrow the government? What had she gotten herself into....
"Brianna," continued Sands. "All you need to do is pull the trigger. I'll get you out of there. Then we'll part ways and never see each other again."
"But why do I even need to be involved? Why don't you pull the trigger?"
"We need it to be an Egyptian. If I pull the trigger it will be an international incident. Plus, you're from the old rule. That furthers the perception of Ptolemy coming to power."
Brianna knew that she had to do this. For Alexander. "How do I know that this is it? That you'll never come for me again?"
"Because we will arrange for your death when you're done."
Brianna looked stunned.
"Not your real death!" laughed Sands. "We'll replace your body. My superiors do not know this part. It was my idea. This way nobody will ever find you again."
"It looks as if I have no choice..." said Brianna.
After a few moments, Dr. Jack Ryan joined him.
"Good morning, Mr. President," said the CIA director.
"Jack. How are you today?"
"Very well, sir."
"What do you have for me?"
"Carthage is still a mess."
"Yes, what else is new?" replied the president. "I don't know if even the American Flag flying over every Carthaginian city will stop the violence."
"Then why not pull out, sir?" asked Ryan. "We can't accomplish anything there."
Roosevelt looked at Ryan. He had long thought of this, but there was one thing that kept the troops there.
"Jack - we lose an average of a soldier a day in Carthage. Some days we don't lose any. Other days we lose five or six to truck explosions or some other kind of violence."
"That is my point, Mr President," said Ryan. "Americans are becoming angry that the violence continues and our boys are dying. And for no other cause than revenge for what they did here."
"Exactly, Jack," replied Roosevelt. "Revenge for what they did here. And our soldiers in Carthage are targets for all kinds of violence. Yet what you're missing is that the violence is all centered in Carthage. American civilians have not been targeted since that fateful day of the coordinated bombings. Eventually, we will get down to the very last terrorist. For every American casualty in Carthage we've captured or killed ten insurgents.
"It takes time to plan and coordinate an attack here in America. There's all sorts of red tape just to get into the country, not to mention getting the supplies they need. In Carthage it is easier. So why attack difficult targets here when they can attack easy targets in Carthage?"
"I see your point, Sir."
"I don't like it that our boys are dying over there. Don't like it one bit. Yet they are better prepared to handle violence than civilians here in America. They're trained for it. Every day they get better at preventing violence. Our people don't like the fact that our soldiers are dying over there, and we'll keep it that way. Lest we open ourselves up for attacks here."
Ryan stood awkwardly for a few moments. No doubt something else was on his mind, thought FDR.
"Is there anything else, Jack?"
"Yes, sir. The Egypt situation is moving along. Our man there has made contact with the old rule's agent and we'll have something set soon."
"I don't know anything about that," said Roosevelt.
"All due respect, best that you don't know, Sir."
--------------------------------------------------------------
"Who is this 'Sands' character," asked Lepidus. He was seated accross from Anthony Soprano.
"He's some dumb f*** who thinks he's a big shot."
"Is he a threat?"
"Maybe," replied Tony.
Lepidus wasn't liking recent events. Suddenly there was much ado about espionage in Egypt.
"Do you know what he's up to? Come on, Tony. Stop being so vague...."
"No. He's made contact with the old rule's underground is all that we know."
"I don't like what's going on here. Uncertainty could kill us all." Lepidus looked Tony in the eye. "Fix the plumbing."
-------------------------------------------------------------
Ptolemy saw what went wrong. He saw his sister's mistake. She had too much heart. Then when she lost her heart to Caesar's death she got desperate. Ptolemy wouldn't do that. He was in control. He was ambitious. He was also the true ruler of Egypt.
Who were the Romans to put Rameses in charge? That was Cleopatra's fault. She so desperately sought Uranium that she neglected to match the Romans military strength. There would be a stop to this. Sands was dealing with it, and soon Rameses would be out of the picture.
Ptolemy began to dream of taking the rulership of Egypt. First, he would purify it. Eliminate all those not of Egyptian blood. Then he would bring back the old ways. A king should be treated like a king, not a servant. This is what the Americans got wrong. All Roosevelt did was serve his people. Ptolemy would have none of that. As pharoah he would demand the respect that he deserved. The respect that Cleopatra had taken from him. The people should serve him, not the other way around.
Then, an alliance with the Americans. The Egyptian armies would conquer the Carthaginians and anex their lands for Egypt. Again, purifying the citizenship.
Cooperation with the other nations did not work. This was a testament to the fact that the only way to gain the respect of foreigners is to have them fear Egypt. Ptolemy would build a stronger Egypt. One that could withstand the test of time. One that wouldn't back down to Rome and America.
Yes. First would come Carthage. Then Mexico. Then Rome and America. No UN vote would stop him.
--------------------------------------------------------------
"A fleet of American ships is waiting offshore," said Agent Sands. "They're pretending to be conducting war games, but in fact they are standing by in case the Roman security forces try to interfere."
Brianna was trying to take all of this in. A coup-d-tat? And what of Rameses?
"I don't understand. How will the American ships deter the Romans?" she asked.
Sands looked at her and smiled. "The moment that Ptolemy takes the throne Roosevelt will sign an alliance with him. This means that any attack by the Romans will result in a war between America and Rome. Neither country wants that. After our jobs are over, the coup will be pretty much bloodless."
"P..Ptolemy?" Brianna was stunned. "He's to be the king?"
"He is the true ruler of Egypt...."
"He is a headstrong boy. That is all. Ptolemy does not know how to lead. He's been hand-fed for his whole life. He never learned what suffering truly is."
"Cleopatra was the same way. She was a delicate princess...."
Brianna cut him off. "Cleopatra was no delicate princess. She raised those boys from birth, when their mother died. She gave up her childhood to be with them. Cleopatra had her faults, but don't belittle what she did for those boys."
"Ok, you're right, Brianna," replied Sands. "In any event, though, with Ptolemy in the throne America has the votes it needs to win the General Assembly vote."
"Why would Ptolemy take the throne only to give up his power by putting Roosevelt at the head of the UN?"
"That is what our intelligence indicates."
"Your intelligence is wrong. I know Ptolemy. He has no morals. He stood by Arsinoe when she was to be queen. Then he stood by Cleopatra until Arsinoe returned. He switched sides so many times that Cleopatra didn't know who's side he was on at the end."
"Nonetheless, our intelligence is good. I've even spoken with Ptolemy. He seems reasonable.
Brianna wasn't liking this at all. Kill Rameses? Overthrow the government? What had she gotten herself into....
"Brianna," continued Sands. "All you need to do is pull the trigger. I'll get you out of there. Then we'll part ways and never see each other again."
"But why do I even need to be involved? Why don't you pull the trigger?"
"We need it to be an Egyptian. If I pull the trigger it will be an international incident. Plus, you're from the old rule. That furthers the perception of Ptolemy coming to power."
Brianna knew that she had to do this. For Alexander. "How do I know that this is it? That you'll never come for me again?"
"Because we will arrange for your death when you're done."
Brianna looked stunned.
"Not your real death!" laughed Sands. "We'll replace your body. My superiors do not know this part. It was my idea. This way nobody will ever find you again."
"It looks as if I have no choice..." said Brianna.
Alpha Infantry
Makin Ya Mans Clap You!
its boring without pictures.
Alpha Infantry said:
Read a comic book then. I feel sorry you are unable to appreciate good writing.
Vanadorn
Motorcycling Paladin
@ EQ&Civ - Excellent rebuttal. My toughts and sentiments exactly. Only difference is you beat me to the post.
V
V
Zeeter, I've just now read through the whole thing, and I adore it. Your writing has really improved over the course of the story -- it was never bad, but it's become tighter and you've found yourself a really effective style.
I particularly liked this:
Not many words, but it says so much, packs a punch, and caps off that chapter perfectly.
Another thing you're good at is leaving things unsaid; an example is Antony, whom we last see convincing a submarine captain to change course, but we don't know what his plans are until the UN is revealed. I had enough trust in you as an author to be able to enjoy the mystery, rather than worry about whether you were going to leave me hanging forever or, even worse, handle the resolution badly. Such was not the case.
Having said that, it would have been nice to see Octavian's struggle with Cicero dramatised more, that seemed to happen mostly off-stage. And one nit-pick: "coup d'état"
I was riding home yesterday trying to think of a market for this kind of story; and it occurred to me that if Elite (you young people may not remember, but trust me, it was big) shipped with a novella, then why not Civ4?
I particularly liked this:
Not many words, but it says so much, packs a punch, and caps off that chapter perfectly.
Another thing you're good at is leaving things unsaid; an example is Antony, whom we last see convincing a submarine captain to change course, but we don't know what his plans are until the UN is revealed. I had enough trust in you as an author to be able to enjoy the mystery, rather than worry about whether you were going to leave me hanging forever or, even worse, handle the resolution badly. Such was not the case.
Having said that, it would have been nice to see Octavian's struggle with Cicero dramatised more, that seemed to happen mostly off-stage. And one nit-pick: "coup d'état"
I was riding home yesterday trying to think of a market for this kind of story; and it occurred to me that if Elite (you young people may not remember, but trust me, it was big) shipped with a novella, then why not Civ4?
General Brown
Go Boston Sports!
Wewt, another great chapter
The Great War began with a collision of egos. No longer were wars fought over territory or resources. Revenge was only a sidebar. The quest for power was over. Now the goal was supremecy. Pride. Their place in history. Neither superpower would budge. Nor would either superpower be willing to await the next vote of the General Assembly.
The curious fact was, though, that both President Roosevelt and Caesar Octavian liked each other. Under different circumstances they could be friends. It was a war that both deemed necessary, though. For the good of their people, the two empires would fight. The winner was guaranteed the role of President of the General Assembly. They would control the world. More importantly, the other would not.
Early, the sides were drawn. The Aztecs, allied with their friends, the Americans, attacked first on the Unfinished Isle. They were slaughtered. Old war plans did not work against the Romans. Yet, decades of war plans drawn up and practiced by the Romans still worked on the Aztecs. Just like that, the Romans controlled all of Mexico.
Mobilization was one key. The Romans were able to take a city with their advanced armor, then quickly subdue the townspeople with their fast moving mechanized infantry. This freed up the armor to move on to the next city almost instantly.
The other key for the Romans was their advanced planning. Knowing of the Aztec's inability to keep up with modern progress, the Romans maintained a waiting army, ready to pounce on the almost third-world country at the first sign of aggression. Soon the Romans controlled all of the Aztec cities.
The Carthaginians were not so lucky. Tired of the terroristic bombings and their inability to maintain peace in the Carthaginian cities, Roosevelt gave the order. Forty-five minutes later the Carthaginian empire was anihilated. The Romans, due to their proximity to the Carthaginian cities in the former Iroquoisland, quickly took control of the lands there, yet this was a meaningless gesture, since the real fighting would take place in the Northern Province. Or in Italy itself.
No nation had ever successfully invaded America. Their continent was basically square that took up slightly less than one fifth of the entire world. Roads led to each and every mountain, river, plain, and field. There was noplace that the Americans could not counterattack immediately. No chokepoints. No natural defenses. Attacks on American soil with equal forces were pointless.
Now the Egyptians stood in the way of both superpowers. Their vote would decide the fate of the world.
-----------------------------------------------
The words stunned Octavian. "Wh...what?"
"Rameses is dead," repeated Lepidus. "Murdered."
"How?"
"He was killed in his palace by someone close to him."
"Didn't we have a man there? I told you to keep tabs on the Egyptians."
"I did. We put our best man on it. I haven't heard from him since the murder."
Octavian was almost speachless. He had counted on the Egyptians. They were the only allies of the Romans. He turned the television on to see the news for himself. An old, disturbing image came to view. Cleopatra's brother, Ptolemy, was speaking from the Royal Palace in Alexandria.
Ptolemy spoke of national solidarity. Of a nation coming together as one to get through this tragedy. He spoke of identifying the killers and making them face justice. He spoke of his dream of peace for all of Egypt.
When the former Prince was done a reporter came on the screen. He told a saddened nation that the Egyptian Senate had already approved Ptolemy for the interum Presidency.
"Is our army north of Alexandria on alert yet?" Octavian asked.
"Yes," answered Lepidus. "I took the liberty of alerting them just before coming in here."
"Alright. Let's stay calm," said Octavian, visibly flustered. "Let's not get emotional about this. We need to look at our options. There'll be time to mourn Rameses later."
"Ptolemy?" Lepidus asked.
"Ptolemy was always a pawn," answered Octavian. "He chose the side of power whenever pushed. He backed Cleopatra when their father died. Then he backed Arsinoe when she took power. Finally, he chose not to involve himself when Caesar gave the country back to Cleopatra. Probably because he knew that the queen would not trust him. And rightfully so."
"So who has the power now?" asked Lepidus. "If we can figure that out we can anticipate his move."
"That is what I need your man on the inside to find out. Get him. Now."
Octavian's demand was pronounced irrelevant a moment later when Anthony Soprano's face appeared on the television. The reporter identified him as a member of the Roman intelligence community and the man responsible for Rameses murder. According to the reporter, he had been shot and killed by Rameses special guard.
The two emperors of the Roman Empire stood silently for what seemed like an eternity. This spelled out their own doom.
Octavian looked at Lepidus. "He didn't....?"
"No," answered Lepidus. "We were set up."
Octavian went to the window and looked out at the courtyard. His thoughts went out to Caesar. He had already done what his former emperor would have told him. He had remained calm and looked at his options. Now there were no options. No choices to make.
After a while he spoke. "The Americans are behind this."
"How do you know that?"
"Egypt was our ally. Roosevelt would know that he cannot win a General Assembly vote while Egypt remains by our side.
"Ptolemy does not have the backing to do this himself," he continued. "He has been powerless for decades. Someone went to him. Someone who did not obscure his presence from us."
"Who?" asked Lepidus. "We know the Americans had agents there. But we watched them closely."
"How closely?" said Octavian in more of a statement than a question. "How difficult was it to find the agents?"
"There was one. I think his name was Sands or something. The man is a bull in a china shop. He couldn't conceal his presence if his life depended on it."
"And this is why we sent our men there?" asked Octavian. "To keep an eye on this agent?"
"Yes. We deemed him dangerous. In fact, I had just given the order to have him taken care of," answered Lepidus.
Octavian looked at Lepidus. "We got played," he said. "This guy, Sands was it? He wanted us to know he was there. He wanted us to send people. Now who are they blaming? Not Sands. I want him taken in. Find him."
Octavian watched as Lepidus dropped his head. After a few moments, he went over and put his hand on his shoulder.
"It's not your fault, Lepidus. I would have done the same thing."
"Thank you, Octavian," answered Lepidus. "What are we to do now? Surrender to the Americans?"
"Not yet," answered Octavian. "We have one card left to play."
------------------------------------------------------
Brianna placed the car in park and called to Alexander. "Come quickly, Alex! I need you!"
She opened her car door and quickly ran to the passenger side, nearly in hysterics. "Hurry!" she shouted at her front door.
As Alex came outside Brianna opened the passenger side door. Sands nearly lifeless body almost fell to the ground before Brianna caught him.
"What's wrong with him?" asked Alex.
"He's been stabbed."
Sands began to mumble. "My name is Sheldon Jeffrey Sands. I work for the CIA. I make the shapes and watch them fall."
"He's delirious," said Alex.
"No, he's trying to keep himself from dying. He's trying to keep his head. Here," she said, placing Sands arm accross Alex's shoulder. "Help me get him inside."
Together, the two of them carried the CIA agent to Brianna's bed.
"Sheldon Jeffrey Sands...I am a ..."
"Shhh," said Brianna once he was in the bed. "Quiet now. Let me fix your wound." She turned to Alex. "Get me some towels."
"Brianna...remember Zululand, Brianna? Remember Zululand?"
"Yes."
"I was happy there."
"I was too. I'm going to turn you over onto your side now."
Sands moaned in pain as Brianna moved him.
"I don't remember being happy too often.." Sands continued, once settled.
"Sheldon. You must relax. I need to help you."
"I don't need help."
"Yes, you do." Brianna stopped addressing his wounds for a moment and looked into his eyes.
"You saved my life last night. Now you're not going to die on me."
"You had a job to do," answered Sands. "You shouldn't have come back for me."
Memories of the previous evening crept back into Brianna's head. Everything had gone wrong.
------------------------------------------------------------
She was spotted by the Roman Mafia when she entered the palace. They knew her well. Brianna had eaten dinner several times at Tony Soprano's house. She tried to hide, but it was too late. Tony and her old boyfriend, Christopher, grabbed her and took her into a room.
They beat her, trying to get some information on Sands. Where was he? What was he up to? Why was she there? Brianna said nothing.
Soon, Tony took out a large knife and placed her hand on a table.
"Here's what is going to happen," he said. "I'm going to begin asking you questions. For every answer that I don't like, I'm going to chop off a finger.
"Where is Sands?"
Brianna knew that she was already dead. She wasn't about to help this man. Brianna spit in his face.
"That's a nice pinky you have there. I think I want it." Tony positioned the knife above her left pinky.
"Well, well, well," came a voice. "What have we here?"
Tony quickly lifted the knife and pointed it at the voice. Brianna looked up to see Sands' face.
"Isn't this a site? The three great minds from the world's intelligence community all together in one place. Plus you, Christopher!" he said that last part with feigned enthusiasm, waving a gun around haphazzardly for added dramatic effect.
"Agent Sands. Good to see you," said Tony.
"And you, Tony. It's been a long time. I thought you had left the industry, especially after Zululand."
"You ran away from Zululand before we could track you down. We'll finish this now."
"First the girl."
"No. She stays," answered Tony, now holding the knife at Brianna's throat. She could feel blood dripping down her back and over her shoulderblade.
Sands turned to Christopher and shot him square in the head without warning. He fell to the floor with a thud.
"You were saying, Tony?"
"You come at me and the girl dies."
"Always one for the dramatic, Tony."
"F*** you, Sands. I never liked you, you f***."
"Hey - watch your mouth around the lady."
Brianna decided to take her chance now. With all of her strength she forced her elbow into Tony's ribs.
Suprised, Tony swiped the knife at Sands just as the CIA agent shot him in the chest.
Brianna stood and watched the head of the Roman Mob fall to the ground dead.
"Go. Finish your job," said Sands.
"Are you alright?"
"I'm fine. Go get Rameses."
Brianna fled the room. She left too soon to see Sands fall to his knees, a knife sticking through his ribs.
-------------------------------------------------------
"You could have been caught. You shouldn't have come back for me. Don't they teach you Egyptians anything? The mission comes first."
"Hush, now," said Brianna, turning back to his wounds. "You're bleeding inside. I need to get a doctor."
Brianna called for Alex, who came in carrying some towels. "Alex, take the car and go to get Dr. Piat. Tell him to bring his medical bag."
Alex didn't ask any questions. He took the keys and ran out the door.
"No doctors, Brianna."
"Yes, doctors. Don't worry, I'll tell him it was a farming accident."
Sands closed his eyes and began to babble again while Brianna wiped his wound with a towel.
"I don't like this life, Brianna."
"I don't either. That's why I left it for this life."
Sands opened his eyes and looked at her. "And I brought you back to it. I'm sorry, Brianna."
"Hush," she replied. Don't even think about it."
Sands closed his eyes again. He seemed to be bordering on delirium. "I like Halloween, Brianna. It's my favorite holiday. Do you know why?"
"No, but I have a feeling that you're going to tell me...."
"Every year, for a few hours, at least, I can be someone else," said Sands. "And I'm happy. I'm not a CIA agent. I don't have to kill anyone. For a few hours I like myself again."
"You're a good man, Sheldon. Don't be hard on yourself."
"No, I'm not," answered Sands. "I'm not a good man. My life is deception, hiding and death. That is not a good man. I always wanted to be a good man. I want to like myself again."
Brianna looked at Sands. No, he wasn't delirious. He was making sense. Maybe a bit more emotional than usual for him, but then again he had an eight inch deep wound in his side. Brianna remembered Zululand. How their distrust for each other drew them closer. She remembered being happy there. Now, for the first time, Brianna was starting to trust someone other than Alexander, and she was happy about it.
"You're not going back to that life," she said. "You're staying here with me and Alex. I won't let you go back."
"I like it here," said Sands. "It's the middle of nowhere. There's nobody that I need to kill here. I think I can be happy."
"Then you're staying with me."
--------------------------------------------------------------
The curious fact was, though, that both President Roosevelt and Caesar Octavian liked each other. Under different circumstances they could be friends. It was a war that both deemed necessary, though. For the good of their people, the two empires would fight. The winner was guaranteed the role of President of the General Assembly. They would control the world. More importantly, the other would not.
Early, the sides were drawn. The Aztecs, allied with their friends, the Americans, attacked first on the Unfinished Isle. They were slaughtered. Old war plans did not work against the Romans. Yet, decades of war plans drawn up and practiced by the Romans still worked on the Aztecs. Just like that, the Romans controlled all of Mexico.
Mobilization was one key. The Romans were able to take a city with their advanced armor, then quickly subdue the townspeople with their fast moving mechanized infantry. This freed up the armor to move on to the next city almost instantly.
The other key for the Romans was their advanced planning. Knowing of the Aztec's inability to keep up with modern progress, the Romans maintained a waiting army, ready to pounce on the almost third-world country at the first sign of aggression. Soon the Romans controlled all of the Aztec cities.
The Carthaginians were not so lucky. Tired of the terroristic bombings and their inability to maintain peace in the Carthaginian cities, Roosevelt gave the order. Forty-five minutes later the Carthaginian empire was anihilated. The Romans, due to their proximity to the Carthaginian cities in the former Iroquoisland, quickly took control of the lands there, yet this was a meaningless gesture, since the real fighting would take place in the Northern Province. Or in Italy itself.
No nation had ever successfully invaded America. Their continent was basically square that took up slightly less than one fifth of the entire world. Roads led to each and every mountain, river, plain, and field. There was noplace that the Americans could not counterattack immediately. No chokepoints. No natural defenses. Attacks on American soil with equal forces were pointless.
Now the Egyptians stood in the way of both superpowers. Their vote would decide the fate of the world.
-----------------------------------------------
The words stunned Octavian. "Wh...what?"
"Rameses is dead," repeated Lepidus. "Murdered."
"How?"
"He was killed in his palace by someone close to him."
"Didn't we have a man there? I told you to keep tabs on the Egyptians."
"I did. We put our best man on it. I haven't heard from him since the murder."
Octavian was almost speachless. He had counted on the Egyptians. They were the only allies of the Romans. He turned the television on to see the news for himself. An old, disturbing image came to view. Cleopatra's brother, Ptolemy, was speaking from the Royal Palace in Alexandria.
Ptolemy spoke of national solidarity. Of a nation coming together as one to get through this tragedy. He spoke of identifying the killers and making them face justice. He spoke of his dream of peace for all of Egypt.
When the former Prince was done a reporter came on the screen. He told a saddened nation that the Egyptian Senate had already approved Ptolemy for the interum Presidency.
"Is our army north of Alexandria on alert yet?" Octavian asked.
"Yes," answered Lepidus. "I took the liberty of alerting them just before coming in here."
"Alright. Let's stay calm," said Octavian, visibly flustered. "Let's not get emotional about this. We need to look at our options. There'll be time to mourn Rameses later."
"Ptolemy?" Lepidus asked.
"Ptolemy was always a pawn," answered Octavian. "He chose the side of power whenever pushed. He backed Cleopatra when their father died. Then he backed Arsinoe when she took power. Finally, he chose not to involve himself when Caesar gave the country back to Cleopatra. Probably because he knew that the queen would not trust him. And rightfully so."
"So who has the power now?" asked Lepidus. "If we can figure that out we can anticipate his move."
"That is what I need your man on the inside to find out. Get him. Now."
Octavian's demand was pronounced irrelevant a moment later when Anthony Soprano's face appeared on the television. The reporter identified him as a member of the Roman intelligence community and the man responsible for Rameses murder. According to the reporter, he had been shot and killed by Rameses special guard.
The two emperors of the Roman Empire stood silently for what seemed like an eternity. This spelled out their own doom.
Octavian looked at Lepidus. "He didn't....?"
"No," answered Lepidus. "We were set up."
Octavian went to the window and looked out at the courtyard. His thoughts went out to Caesar. He had already done what his former emperor would have told him. He had remained calm and looked at his options. Now there were no options. No choices to make.
After a while he spoke. "The Americans are behind this."
"How do you know that?"
"Egypt was our ally. Roosevelt would know that he cannot win a General Assembly vote while Egypt remains by our side.
"Ptolemy does not have the backing to do this himself," he continued. "He has been powerless for decades. Someone went to him. Someone who did not obscure his presence from us."
"Who?" asked Lepidus. "We know the Americans had agents there. But we watched them closely."
"How closely?" said Octavian in more of a statement than a question. "How difficult was it to find the agents?"
"There was one. I think his name was Sands or something. The man is a bull in a china shop. He couldn't conceal his presence if his life depended on it."
"And this is why we sent our men there?" asked Octavian. "To keep an eye on this agent?"
"Yes. We deemed him dangerous. In fact, I had just given the order to have him taken care of," answered Lepidus.
Octavian looked at Lepidus. "We got played," he said. "This guy, Sands was it? He wanted us to know he was there. He wanted us to send people. Now who are they blaming? Not Sands. I want him taken in. Find him."
Octavian watched as Lepidus dropped his head. After a few moments, he went over and put his hand on his shoulder.
"It's not your fault, Lepidus. I would have done the same thing."
"Thank you, Octavian," answered Lepidus. "What are we to do now? Surrender to the Americans?"
"Not yet," answered Octavian. "We have one card left to play."
------------------------------------------------------
Brianna placed the car in park and called to Alexander. "Come quickly, Alex! I need you!"
She opened her car door and quickly ran to the passenger side, nearly in hysterics. "Hurry!" she shouted at her front door.
As Alex came outside Brianna opened the passenger side door. Sands nearly lifeless body almost fell to the ground before Brianna caught him.
"What's wrong with him?" asked Alex.
"He's been stabbed."
Sands began to mumble. "My name is Sheldon Jeffrey Sands. I work for the CIA. I make the shapes and watch them fall."
"He's delirious," said Alex.
"No, he's trying to keep himself from dying. He's trying to keep his head. Here," she said, placing Sands arm accross Alex's shoulder. "Help me get him inside."
Together, the two of them carried the CIA agent to Brianna's bed.
"Sheldon Jeffrey Sands...I am a ..."
"Shhh," said Brianna once he was in the bed. "Quiet now. Let me fix your wound." She turned to Alex. "Get me some towels."
"Brianna...remember Zululand, Brianna? Remember Zululand?"
"Yes."
"I was happy there."
"I was too. I'm going to turn you over onto your side now."
Sands moaned in pain as Brianna moved him.
"I don't remember being happy too often.." Sands continued, once settled.
"Sheldon. You must relax. I need to help you."
"I don't need help."
"Yes, you do." Brianna stopped addressing his wounds for a moment and looked into his eyes.
"You saved my life last night. Now you're not going to die on me."
"You had a job to do," answered Sands. "You shouldn't have come back for me."
Memories of the previous evening crept back into Brianna's head. Everything had gone wrong.
------------------------------------------------------------
She was spotted by the Roman Mafia when she entered the palace. They knew her well. Brianna had eaten dinner several times at Tony Soprano's house. She tried to hide, but it was too late. Tony and her old boyfriend, Christopher, grabbed her and took her into a room.
They beat her, trying to get some information on Sands. Where was he? What was he up to? Why was she there? Brianna said nothing.
Soon, Tony took out a large knife and placed her hand on a table.
"Here's what is going to happen," he said. "I'm going to begin asking you questions. For every answer that I don't like, I'm going to chop off a finger.
"Where is Sands?"
Brianna knew that she was already dead. She wasn't about to help this man. Brianna spit in his face.
"That's a nice pinky you have there. I think I want it." Tony positioned the knife above her left pinky.
"Well, well, well," came a voice. "What have we here?"
Tony quickly lifted the knife and pointed it at the voice. Brianna looked up to see Sands' face.
"Isn't this a site? The three great minds from the world's intelligence community all together in one place. Plus you, Christopher!" he said that last part with feigned enthusiasm, waving a gun around haphazzardly for added dramatic effect.
"Agent Sands. Good to see you," said Tony.
"And you, Tony. It's been a long time. I thought you had left the industry, especially after Zululand."
"You ran away from Zululand before we could track you down. We'll finish this now."
"First the girl."
"No. She stays," answered Tony, now holding the knife at Brianna's throat. She could feel blood dripping down her back and over her shoulderblade.
Sands turned to Christopher and shot him square in the head without warning. He fell to the floor with a thud.
"You were saying, Tony?"
"You come at me and the girl dies."
"Always one for the dramatic, Tony."
"F*** you, Sands. I never liked you, you f***."
"Hey - watch your mouth around the lady."
Brianna decided to take her chance now. With all of her strength she forced her elbow into Tony's ribs.
Suprised, Tony swiped the knife at Sands just as the CIA agent shot him in the chest.
Brianna stood and watched the head of the Roman Mob fall to the ground dead.
"Go. Finish your job," said Sands.
"Are you alright?"
"I'm fine. Go get Rameses."
Brianna fled the room. She left too soon to see Sands fall to his knees, a knife sticking through his ribs.
-------------------------------------------------------
"You could have been caught. You shouldn't have come back for me. Don't they teach you Egyptians anything? The mission comes first."
"Hush, now," said Brianna, turning back to his wounds. "You're bleeding inside. I need to get a doctor."
Brianna called for Alex, who came in carrying some towels. "Alex, take the car and go to get Dr. Piat. Tell him to bring his medical bag."
Alex didn't ask any questions. He took the keys and ran out the door.
"No doctors, Brianna."
"Yes, doctors. Don't worry, I'll tell him it was a farming accident."
Sands closed his eyes and began to babble again while Brianna wiped his wound with a towel.
"I don't like this life, Brianna."
"I don't either. That's why I left it for this life."
Sands opened his eyes and looked at her. "And I brought you back to it. I'm sorry, Brianna."
"Hush," she replied. Don't even think about it."
Sands closed his eyes again. He seemed to be bordering on delirium. "I like Halloween, Brianna. It's my favorite holiday. Do you know why?"
"No, but I have a feeling that you're going to tell me...."
"Every year, for a few hours, at least, I can be someone else," said Sands. "And I'm happy. I'm not a CIA agent. I don't have to kill anyone. For a few hours I like myself again."
"You're a good man, Sheldon. Don't be hard on yourself."
"No, I'm not," answered Sands. "I'm not a good man. My life is deception, hiding and death. That is not a good man. I always wanted to be a good man. I want to like myself again."
Brianna looked at Sands. No, he wasn't delirious. He was making sense. Maybe a bit more emotional than usual for him, but then again he had an eight inch deep wound in his side. Brianna remembered Zululand. How their distrust for each other drew them closer. She remembered being happy there. Now, for the first time, Brianna was starting to trust someone other than Alexander, and she was happy about it.
"You're not going back to that life," she said. "You're staying here with me and Alex. I won't let you go back."
"I like it here," said Sands. "It's the middle of nowhere. There's nobody that I need to kill here. I think I can be happy."
"Then you're staying with me."
--------------------------------------------------------------
The Lucky Seven wasn't exactly a criminal bar, but it had seen its share of incidents. Last year there was a drug deal gone wrong and two men were shot and killed. The year before that a bar fight spilled out into the street and six people were arrested. One person was hospitalized and was still in a coma.
It was the perfect place for Cicero's meeting. Not quite criminal enough to warrant constant surveilance by the police, but criminal enough that people minded their own business.
Cicero sat in a corner booth of the dive bar on the south-west side of Philadelphia. Things had gone according to plan. He had eliminated one of his rivals, and another was soon to be made irrelevant.
Finally, Jack Ryan came in.
"You're late," said Cicero as Ryan approached.
"The train was late. Why you couldn't come to Washington I have no idea," Ryan answered.
"I like it here. Nobody bothers me. Are you having a cheesesteak?"
"Sure, but let's get down to business."
Cicero gestured to the bartender to bring over two sandwiches and a beer.
"I did my part, Ryan. Now you do yours."
"We'll take care of you. It will take some time, though. I've got some reporters here working on it."
"I've got some in Rome now who are prepared to headline their papers with stories of corruption and political assasination. Octavian should be on trial at the UN within a couple of months."
"I thought you said that Lepidus gave the order for the Sopranos to go to Egypt," Ryan said.
"He did. But everyone knows that Lepidus is more or less Octavian's assistant. What I need to know from you is this - is there concrete evidence that Soprano assasinated Rameses?"
"We took care of that, Cicero," answered Ryan. "The autopsy doctor was paid off to plant evidence that the bullets that killed Rameses came from Tony's gun."
"And the doctor?" asked Cicero.
"He was taken care of."
"What about Ptolemy?"
"He'll do as I say. He wouldn't dare do anything to jeapardize his position."
"And your agent?"
"Presumed dead, although we haven't found the body yet."
"No body?" Cicero was getting upset. "Then where the hell is he?"
"I don't know," Ryan replied. "I had two men outside waiting to take him out when he emerged from the palace."
"Maybe he caught onto your scheme."
"I don't think so. Likely, some of Ptolemy's men caught up with him and took care of it themselves."
Cicero was quiet for a moment as the bartender brought over their cheesesteaks. As he began to eat he remembered his conversation with Tony so long ago. He had told the mafioso that he had friends in high places. Tony had just scolded him. Revenge was sweet. Even sweeter when the revenge on your enemy also implicates another enemy.
"Let me ask you," said Ryan. "You'll probably do away with Octavian and Lepidus now. What are you going to do about the implications that you were behind Caesar's murder?"
"Bah. They won't believe that now. First of all, I was nowhere near the killing. I made sure that Brutus and Cassius took the fall there. Second, who is going to believe Octavian now?"
"And why?" continued Ryan. "You know that this can only lead to a vote for the Americans at the general assembly. Even if you took power you'd still be answering to Roosevelt. What is the point of this?"
"My aims are my own. You don't need to worry about it," Cicero replied as he finished his sandwich.
"I have to go now," he continued. "Make sure you get it into the papers. The Roman citizens will pressure their own papers to report on this if they see it in your papers."
"Where are you going to go?"
"I still have a couple of friends on the senate. The ones who leaked it about your agent in Alexandria. I'll be heading to Rome now to stay with them. When the time comes I'll stand in front of the Roman people and demand the heads of Octavian and Lepidus."
-----------------------------------------------------
"You'll be implicated on this," said Lepidus.
Octavian was well aware of this fact. Once it reached the papers that he may have been behind Rameses' killing the Roman people might stand against him.
"I realize that," he answered. "But what earthly reason would I have for killing Rameses? He was our handpicked ally. Why would I kill him?"
His answer came onto the newscreen with impeccable timing. A reporter had just begun announcing that documents had been found in Rameses office that indicated Octavian wanted to begin a joint espionage assault on America. That this espionage would include setting off nuclear devices in several large cities, and inciting riots in other smaller cities.
"This is insane," said Lepidus. "We don't work that way."
Octavian was silent. The reporter went on to say that he had it on good authority from a member of the Egyptian council that Rameses was going to expose the plan.
"There's your motive," added Lepidus.
Octavian harshly turned the television on and walked to the window. He stood there silently for a few moments.
"Octavian?"
"Yes, Lepidus?"
"We don't work that way, right?"
Octavian was silent. Best that Lepidus not be involved with this.
"But why?"
Octavian turned to Lepidus finally. "It's not enough. Egypt and us...it's not enough votes."
"What's that got to do with us acting in America?"
"Have you ever heard of an invasion in America?" asked Octavian.
"Yes. The Egyptians did one just a few years ago."
"And how did that go?"
"They landed, but couldn't go anywhere," Lepidus answered.
"Every time they took an acre of land they were pushed back. Every bombing run they took was repelled by the American fighterjets."
"But everyone knows that their invasion was just a decoy."
"That doesn't matter," said Octavian. "Decoy or not, they still had nowhere to go. Even if they had landed on three sides of the continent it would have been the same. America cannot be invaded successfully. It is impossible. Even if we took a city, we'd have to put our entire invasion force in it just to defend it."
"What does this have to do with killing Rameses?" asked Lepidus.
"I didn't kill Rameses!" shouted Octavian, upset at the implication by his friend. "They used this information to set me up and give me a motive."
"I still don't understand. Why bomb the Americans if you're not going to invade?"
Octavian turned toward the window again. After a few moments he spoke.
"To eliminate votes."
"Excuse me?"
"If Roosevelt has less people then he has less votes."
"You were going to kill innocent Americans in order to get the number of votes you needed for election?"
"It was a proposal. Nothing more," Octavian replied.
"And if Rameses had approved?"
Octavian was silent for a moment. Finally he turned to Lepidus. "You don't understand. War between America and Rome would last decades. They cannot invade us. We have too many troops. We cannot invade them because their geography prevents it. Meanwhile, hundreds of thousands of Romans and Americans would die as our nations tried to do what is impossible.
"This plan would eliminate most of that death. And the Roman people would be safe."
Octavian was beginning to feel ashamed of himself.
"What happened to you?" asked Lepidus. "You're the man who helped the Iroquois in Keparta. You prevented an all-out nuclear war by giving the Americans our Star-Wars technology. What happened to you?"
"Times have changed, Lepidus. We're running out of time here."
"How is that? What kind of timetable are we on?"
"It's just something that Hannibal told me long ago. I never believed in soothsayers, but he got to me when he predicted Caesar's murder."
"What did he say?" asked Lepidus.
Octavian looked Lepidus square in the eye. "Our time is running out, my friend. In 2050 a new world order will emerge, making us irrelevant."
"What new order is this? What are you talking about?"
"Don't you understand? If we don't take charge by 2050 we're through. And not just us. Roosevelt and I guess Ptolemy, too."
"But what kind of new order are you talking about?"
"Hannibal didn't go there."
"And you believed that man? He was insane."
"Maybe, but his insanity was right more times than not. He anticipated the Aztec invasion. He saw Caesar's death. He even knew how to get to civilization when his people had no earthly method of knowing that there was something else out there."
"Too bad he didn't see the bombs dropping on Carthage earlier or his people would still be alive," said Lepidus.
"Well, I guess there's only so much he could have done about it."
"So what are we going to do? I don't necessarily believe in this type of thing, but 2050 is only thirteen years away."
"And the UN Charter dictates a vote every twenty years. In essence, we have three years to gain enough votes to take the General Assembly. That is the only thing that will prevent this new world order."
-----------------------------------------------------
It was the perfect place for Cicero's meeting. Not quite criminal enough to warrant constant surveilance by the police, but criminal enough that people minded their own business.
Cicero sat in a corner booth of the dive bar on the south-west side of Philadelphia. Things had gone according to plan. He had eliminated one of his rivals, and another was soon to be made irrelevant.
Finally, Jack Ryan came in.
"You're late," said Cicero as Ryan approached.
"The train was late. Why you couldn't come to Washington I have no idea," Ryan answered.
"I like it here. Nobody bothers me. Are you having a cheesesteak?"
"Sure, but let's get down to business."
Cicero gestured to the bartender to bring over two sandwiches and a beer.
"I did my part, Ryan. Now you do yours."
"We'll take care of you. It will take some time, though. I've got some reporters here working on it."
"I've got some in Rome now who are prepared to headline their papers with stories of corruption and political assasination. Octavian should be on trial at the UN within a couple of months."
"I thought you said that Lepidus gave the order for the Sopranos to go to Egypt," Ryan said.
"He did. But everyone knows that Lepidus is more or less Octavian's assistant. What I need to know from you is this - is there concrete evidence that Soprano assasinated Rameses?"
"We took care of that, Cicero," answered Ryan. "The autopsy doctor was paid off to plant evidence that the bullets that killed Rameses came from Tony's gun."
"And the doctor?" asked Cicero.
"He was taken care of."
"What about Ptolemy?"
"He'll do as I say. He wouldn't dare do anything to jeapardize his position."
"And your agent?"
"Presumed dead, although we haven't found the body yet."
"No body?" Cicero was getting upset. "Then where the hell is he?"
"I don't know," Ryan replied. "I had two men outside waiting to take him out when he emerged from the palace."
"Maybe he caught onto your scheme."
"I don't think so. Likely, some of Ptolemy's men caught up with him and took care of it themselves."
Cicero was quiet for a moment as the bartender brought over their cheesesteaks. As he began to eat he remembered his conversation with Tony so long ago. He had told the mafioso that he had friends in high places. Tony had just scolded him. Revenge was sweet. Even sweeter when the revenge on your enemy also implicates another enemy.
"Let me ask you," said Ryan. "You'll probably do away with Octavian and Lepidus now. What are you going to do about the implications that you were behind Caesar's murder?"
"Bah. They won't believe that now. First of all, I was nowhere near the killing. I made sure that Brutus and Cassius took the fall there. Second, who is going to believe Octavian now?"
"And why?" continued Ryan. "You know that this can only lead to a vote for the Americans at the general assembly. Even if you took power you'd still be answering to Roosevelt. What is the point of this?"
"My aims are my own. You don't need to worry about it," Cicero replied as he finished his sandwich.
"I have to go now," he continued. "Make sure you get it into the papers. The Roman citizens will pressure their own papers to report on this if they see it in your papers."
"Where are you going to go?"
"I still have a couple of friends on the senate. The ones who leaked it about your agent in Alexandria. I'll be heading to Rome now to stay with them. When the time comes I'll stand in front of the Roman people and demand the heads of Octavian and Lepidus."
-----------------------------------------------------
"You'll be implicated on this," said Lepidus.
Octavian was well aware of this fact. Once it reached the papers that he may have been behind Rameses' killing the Roman people might stand against him.
"I realize that," he answered. "But what earthly reason would I have for killing Rameses? He was our handpicked ally. Why would I kill him?"
His answer came onto the newscreen with impeccable timing. A reporter had just begun announcing that documents had been found in Rameses office that indicated Octavian wanted to begin a joint espionage assault on America. That this espionage would include setting off nuclear devices in several large cities, and inciting riots in other smaller cities.
"This is insane," said Lepidus. "We don't work that way."
Octavian was silent. The reporter went on to say that he had it on good authority from a member of the Egyptian council that Rameses was going to expose the plan.
"There's your motive," added Lepidus.
Octavian harshly turned the television on and walked to the window. He stood there silently for a few moments.
"Octavian?"
"Yes, Lepidus?"
"We don't work that way, right?"
Octavian was silent. Best that Lepidus not be involved with this.
"But why?"
Octavian turned to Lepidus finally. "It's not enough. Egypt and us...it's not enough votes."
"What's that got to do with us acting in America?"
"Have you ever heard of an invasion in America?" asked Octavian.
"Yes. The Egyptians did one just a few years ago."
"And how did that go?"
"They landed, but couldn't go anywhere," Lepidus answered.
"Every time they took an acre of land they were pushed back. Every bombing run they took was repelled by the American fighterjets."
"But everyone knows that their invasion was just a decoy."
"That doesn't matter," said Octavian. "Decoy or not, they still had nowhere to go. Even if they had landed on three sides of the continent it would have been the same. America cannot be invaded successfully. It is impossible. Even if we took a city, we'd have to put our entire invasion force in it just to defend it."
"What does this have to do with killing Rameses?" asked Lepidus.
"I didn't kill Rameses!" shouted Octavian, upset at the implication by his friend. "They used this information to set me up and give me a motive."
"I still don't understand. Why bomb the Americans if you're not going to invade?"
Octavian turned toward the window again. After a few moments he spoke.
"To eliminate votes."
"Excuse me?"
"If Roosevelt has less people then he has less votes."
"You were going to kill innocent Americans in order to get the number of votes you needed for election?"
"It was a proposal. Nothing more," Octavian replied.
"And if Rameses had approved?"
Octavian was silent for a moment. Finally he turned to Lepidus. "You don't understand. War between America and Rome would last decades. They cannot invade us. We have too many troops. We cannot invade them because their geography prevents it. Meanwhile, hundreds of thousands of Romans and Americans would die as our nations tried to do what is impossible.
"This plan would eliminate most of that death. And the Roman people would be safe."
Octavian was beginning to feel ashamed of himself.
"What happened to you?" asked Lepidus. "You're the man who helped the Iroquois in Keparta. You prevented an all-out nuclear war by giving the Americans our Star-Wars technology. What happened to you?"
"Times have changed, Lepidus. We're running out of time here."
"How is that? What kind of timetable are we on?"
"It's just something that Hannibal told me long ago. I never believed in soothsayers, but he got to me when he predicted Caesar's murder."
"What did he say?" asked Lepidus.
Octavian looked Lepidus square in the eye. "Our time is running out, my friend. In 2050 a new world order will emerge, making us irrelevant."
"What new order is this? What are you talking about?"
"Don't you understand? If we don't take charge by 2050 we're through. And not just us. Roosevelt and I guess Ptolemy, too."
"But what kind of new order are you talking about?"
"Hannibal didn't go there."
"And you believed that man? He was insane."
"Maybe, but his insanity was right more times than not. He anticipated the Aztec invasion. He saw Caesar's death. He even knew how to get to civilization when his people had no earthly method of knowing that there was something else out there."
"Too bad he didn't see the bombs dropping on Carthage earlier or his people would still be alive," said Lepidus.
"Well, I guess there's only so much he could have done about it."
"So what are we going to do? I don't necessarily believe in this type of thing, but 2050 is only thirteen years away."
"And the UN Charter dictates a vote every twenty years. In essence, we have three years to gain enough votes to take the General Assembly. That is the only thing that will prevent this new world order."
-----------------------------------------------------
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