Chapter 22: Siege equipment
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Repairing something in my refuge was much easier than having to work elsewhere, since here I had a large number of technicians who had been trained using the teaching pods to learn how to repair objects like the Vertibird. This time, I wasn't working alone and had the necessary tools to perfectly restore this ancient technology.
With my team of technicians, the repair process progressed rapidly. Each one applied their specialized knowledge, and together we disassembled and reviewed every component of the Vertibird. The engines were dismantled and cleaned; we replaced worn-out parts and updated the electronic systems. The control system, which was previously rudimentary and difficult to handle, was completely redesigned. Now, the controls were more precise and responsive, greatly facilitating piloting.
As we worked, I also considered the possibility of installing the G.E.C.K.'s cold fusion generator. Sacrificing one of them wasn't easy—it could terraform dead land into a paradise—but it would guarantee that the Vertibird had a practically unlimited energy source.
I consulted with my technicians, and we began adapting the Vertibird's electrical system to integrate the generator. This would eliminate our dependence on diesel fuel, which would eventually run out if I continued using the aircraft constantly.
Days passed, and the Vertibird started to take shape. The structural and technological modifications turned it into a more efficient and reliable machine. I decided to conduct a test flight to ensure everything worked correctly. I climbed into the cockpit, and this time, when I powered up the systems, I felt how the Vertibird responded smoothly and precisely.
The takeoff was flawless. The cold fusion generator provided stable energy, and the new controls made maneuvering easier. I flew around the refuge, performing various speed and stability tests.
Everything was perfect, and it didn't take me as much time as the provisional repairs I'd previously done just to make it work.
I then dedicated all the time I had left to preparing something so Lanius wouldn't kill me for "deserting my post." I had to bring along a couple of workers to the facility to be the face and deal with the Legion patrols that would pass by checking that everything was in order. I also needed to prepare a better production line for weaponry and fulfill my promise to Lanius regarding minor siege armaments.
Meanwhile, I had to improve the legionaries' equipment. I thought about introducing simple mortars that the common legionary could use before charging with machete in hand. Mortars between 50mm and 81mm would be the right choice. The smaller calibers would serve against lightly fortified enemies in trenches, while the larger ones would be effective against more resistant fortifications.
The 50mm mortars only require one legionary to operate them, which makes them even more suitable for our strategy. Being lightweight and manageable by a single person, they allow for greater mobility and speed on the battlefield. This is crucial since each legionary can carry their own equipment without relying on slaves or pack animals that could slow down the advance.
On the other hand, the 81mm mortars, although heavier, could be handled by small teams and are intended for more resistant targets like enemy fortifications. By integrating these mortars into our tactics, we could cause chaos in enemy lines before a charge, significantly reducing the casualties we would normally suffer in each battle.
With my technicians by my side, I began working on the mortar designs in the refuge's workshop. I decided to focus initially on the 50mm and 81mm mortars, as they were more practical for the Legion's current needs and didn't require a large investment in resources or labor. The 120mm mortars could be considered in the future but would depend on the Legion's acceptance and demand. I didn't want to allocate workers and supply lines to a product that the Legion might value at their whim.
I spent long hours refining the designs, ensuring the mortars were efficient, lightweight, and easy for legionaries to use, hoping none would explode in their faces due to mistakes. Each component was analyzed to optimize functionality and facilitate mass production.
Meanwhile, I maintained constant communication with McKinley to coordinate material acquisition and manage factory production. Her efficiency in negotiating with suppliers and securing necessary resources proved far superior to mine; she had managed to create a strong network with merchants that kept our operations running smoothly.
The slave laborers continued working to the best of their abilities, motivated by the promise of freedom upon completing the work. We knew that upon completion, we would offer them jobs that would barely allow them to cover their basic needs, which would keep them in a form of labor slavery but with more benefits than regular slaves.
A couple of days passed, and we finally had several mortars ready to be sent to Lanius. If they pleased him, his anger should diminish, and perhaps he would overlook that I abandoned my position and duties for almost two weeks.
I ordered the mortars to be carefully packed and loaded onto the Vertibird, along with the munitions. I also brought along the workers who had been in charge of being the visible face at the facilities once governed by Diana but which would now be controlled by a basic AI.
The return flight was incredibly calm. The controls no longer had that stiffness that prevented me from better handling; the trip lasted a little over three hours, and the energy generator I had installed seemed to work wonderfully with the engines.
I landed at the facility and let the group of technicians take charge of keeping the robots operational. At the same time, the robots themselves would monitor the technicians to prevent them from doing anything reckless, like attempting to escape or informing the Legion about what was truly happening deep within the facilities.
Then, I gathered my legionaries who were guarding the place and activated the robots I had repaired. Officially, we set in motion the marvel of ancient technology to do its job: generate tons of radiation-free food, feed the Legion and its subjects, and, of course, fill my pockets.
The facility came to life. Lights turned on in the long corridors, and the hum of machines filled the air. Robots moved efficiently through the sections, overseeing each process. The technicians, under the watchful eyes of the machines, worked tirelessly.
I watched from an elevated platform as everything operated perfectly. The hydroponic crops were rapidly growing under artificial lights, and the automated systems ensured that each plant received the exact nutrients it needed. The pure water, extracted and purified by the facility, flowed abundantly.
We once again took off in the Vertibird and headed to the Legion's camp, which should be in the area or already on the move to confront the Sundogs. The horizon was painted with the colors of sunset.
After a couple of hours of flight, we spotted the Legion's camp. The tents stood orderly, and patrols moved with discipline around the perimeter. I landed the Vertibird in a clear area, drawing the attention of nearby legionaries. Some watched us with curiosity, still not accustomed to the presence of this machine in our ranks, but fortunately, this time they didn't shoot at us like the last time.
Upon disembarking, a decurion approached quickly.
"Centurion Gaius, Legate Lanius awaits your report. To say he's angry is an understatement, but he hasn't ordered your crucifixion yet, so you might make it out alive," the decurion said in a serious voice.
"Yes, I have just the report for Lanius right here," I replied, tapping some crates that contained the mortars and munitions I had brought.
The decurion nodded and accompanied me to the command tent. Upon entering, I found Lanius standing, as imposing as ever, his mask of the god Mars reflecting the torchlight. His presence filled the space, and the officers around him remained silent.
"Centurion Gaius," Lanius pronounced gravely, not taking his gaze off me. "You have abandoned your post for two weeks without authorization. According to the frumentarii, you returned to your castra. Do you have anything to say in your defense?"
Without losing composure, I placed the two crates I had brought and opened them, revealing the mortars inside.
"I had to fulfill my orders, Legate Lanius. I promised siege weapons to the Legion. Here they are," I responded calmly, pointing to the weapons.
Lanius approached and examined the mortars carefully. His mask of the god Mars concealed any hint of emotion, but his posture reflected interest.
"Mortars," he murmured. "Explain how these weapons will benefit the Legion," Lanius said in his grave voice.
"These mortars allow us to bombard the enemy from a safe distance before our troops charge. We can weaken their defenses and cause chaos in their ranks, reducing our casualties and ensuring faster victories," I explained confidently.
Lanius crossed his arms, considering my words.
"The Legion has triumphed thanks to the strength and bravery of its legionaries, not by relying on weapons. The strength of the Legion is measured by the strength of its weakest link," said Lanius.
"I understand, Legate. But these weapons do not replace the valor of our men; they complement it. Mortars are tools that will enhance our effectiveness without altering our fundamental tactics. A massive volley of 50mm mortars at the enemy lines before a machete charge, and amid the dead and the dust, the charge will be much more effective—even deadly," I said confidently.
There was a moment of silence. The officers around him watched expectantly.
"Demonstrate their value," Lanius finally ordered.
"Of course, give me a few minutes, Legate, and I'll prepare practice targets," I said, maintaining my calm.
With a nod from Lanius, I hurried to organize the demonstration. I ordered my men to set up a series of targets in the nearby field. The legionaries worked efficiently, placing stakes and marking distances to show the mortars' range and precision.
Meanwhile, I personally checked the mortars, ensuring everything was in perfect condition. The Legion's officers began to gather around the practice area, observing with curiosity.
"All set, Centurion," one of my men reported.
"Legate, we are ready to begin," I turned to Lanius.
"Proceed," he crossed his arms, his gaze fixed on the field.
"Well, the 50mm mortar has an effective range of six hundred meters and only takes a few moments to set up to bombard a position," I said, assembling the mortar in front of Lanius.
"Cover yourselves... fire," I warned the group and covered my ears, even though I was wearing power armor.
The projectile soared through the air and exploded near the target, raising a cloud of dust and fragments. The officers exchanged looks of surprise.
I took out the 81mm mortar from its crates and began to assemble it, preparing to fire at a target almost a kilometer away.
The resulting explosion was more potent, completely destroying the designated target. Murmurs of approval were heard among those present.
"As you can see, Legate, these mortars allow us to attack the enemy from a safe distance, weakening their defenses before our charge. And considering that the 81mm mortar has a range of almost five thousand meters, we can hit them without them knowing where the strike came from," I approached Lanius, pointing to the mortar.
Lanius observed the field in silence before responding.
"The effectiveness is evident. How many can you produce?" Lanius asked, changing his tone.
"About two hundred of the small ones and a hundred of the large ones each month. I can even manage to produce some 120mm ones if they are to your liking. But how much can the Legion pay for them?" I said confidently.
"If you wait until the end of the year, I can pay you in coin or machinery—the usual: slaves. With the capture of over five thousand slaves from the Twin Mothers, there will be plenty of slave labor available," Lanius responded.
"Slaves are a good payment since we need to put the future granary of the Legion to work. And speaking of food, the facilities are already operating with expert workers. The Legion will have its tribute guaranteed this year, and above all, I can guarantee that the food and water will be completely radiation-free," I continued speaking confidently.
"Very well, Centurion. Regarding your punishment... train men in the use of mortars. I cannot ignore the abandonment of your post," said Lanius, who began to adjust the inclination of the mortar and test it.
"I will fulfill the punishment, Legate. I'll go unload the rest of the equipment I've brought," I said, heading to the Vertibird.
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Chapter 23: Incursion to the sundogs
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The punishment imposed on me by Lanius was clear and straightforward: train the new recruits in the use of the new weapons. At first glance, it didn't seem like a severe punishment, but the reality was different. It wasn't just about teaching them how to handle the mortar, load explosive charges, and recognize when something was wrong; it was about instilling in them the discipline necessary to avoid hesitation or mistakes in the heat of battle. The mortar system had been simplified into three parts to facilitate transport and assembly, but even the simplest operation could become a disaster if the men didn't know what they were doing.
The biggest problem wasn't the mechanics of the equipment but the time I had dedicated to developing these weapons, neglecting the proper training of my legionaries. Although many of the wounded from the last campaigns had recovered, I now had a new burden: training a hundred recruits, including those replacing casualties. These new legionaries had been recently recruited from tribes conquered by Caesar, and although physically strong, many didn't have the experience or proper training to survive in the Legion's ranks—I wouldn't allow them to die in vain, as it would be a waste of time and resources to equip them.
Lanius had entrusted me with a clear mission: prepare them to continue his expansion, with the objective of conquering more territories and capturing more slaves. These men, novices in organized warfare and accustomed to tribal skirmishes, needed to learn the brutal efficiency necessary to avoid dying in their first combat in the Legion.
I began the process by forming small groups and assigning my most trusted veterans to lead the recruits in training. They taught them the basics: discipline, teamwork, and, most importantly, the use of the rifle. Previously, ammunition was a scarce resource, but that was no longer a problem. The Vertibird allowed me to travel back to my refuge and bring thousands of rounds of ammunition in a matter of hours. Fuel wasn't an issue either since I had installed the cold fusion generator. However, using the Vertibird still required Lanius's authorization, which meant I couldn't abuse that privilege. I could only do so if I obtained something valuable enough for Lanius to overlook it... once again.
I had considered bringing more power armor for my legionaries, but McKinley, despite all her efforts, had only managed to manufacture five that were fully operational. Instead of allocating them to the legionaries, I was using them for construction tasks. It frustrated me, but it was necessary. The Vault-Tec power armors were significantly increasing the workers' effectiveness, allowing buildings to progress rapidly. As long as the city we were building for the Legion advanced, we could collect the rest of the payment and secure more contracts in the future.
I was observing the recruits during their training when I noticed one of them with his finger on the trigger while carelessly swinging his rifle. "If you're not going to shoot, take your finger off the trigger, idiot," I said in frustration, giving him an open-handed slap on the head. The recruit looked at me surprised but knew my warning was serious.
"If any of you die, let it be by enemy fire, not because some fool fired his weapon at his comrades," I said sternly, looking at the legionaries who were on the ground, aiming their rifles at the targets.
Basic training had to be repeated ad nauseam because I wouldn't risk a stupid accident decimating my ranks before even entering combat. I knew that many of these men weren't yet accustomed to the discipline necessary for handling firearms, but that was my responsibility. If they failed in the field, Lanius wouldn't hesitate to blame me.
My veterans closely supervised the new recruits, correcting mistakes and shouting orders. Every shot had to be precise, every movement measured. These recruits would soon face real situations where a single error could mean the death of more than one legionary.
"Keep the barrel down, don't point at the sky like idiots!" Cato shouted. The recruits responded nervously, adjusting their stances as they followed the instructions while moving in combat formation.
The time to train these legionaries was extremely short, barely a few days between my comings and goings to the refuge. My "escape" from Lanius's direct supervision had put even more pressure on me. I wasn't sure if these men were truly ready, but we were already on the move, entering Sundog territory.
Lanius gathered all the direct officers under his command, his imposing presence as always. The atmosphere in the command tent was tense, the air heavy with the weight of expectations and the history hanging over our heads.
"These profligates should not be underestimated," he began, his severe tone resonating in the tent. "They are fierce, like most of the tribes we've faced in Lord Caesar's conquests, but the Sundogs... they have already defeated us before." Lanius's masked face showed no emotion, but his voice made his determination clear. "I will not tolerate failure. I will not be another Paullus."
Paullus—a name that carried a stigma of defeat. He had been the centurion who led a failed attempt to subdue the Sundogs. Defeated and humiliated, his failure still weighed on the Legion's reputation in these lands.
"I will crush this tribe and leave nothing of their history behind. My predecessor's failure will be erased with the blood of the profligates," Lanius continued, his voice firm and authoritative, like a death sentence handed down from on high.
"You will show them no mercy," he added with calculated cruelty. "They will either kneel before the divinity of Lord Caesar, or I will break their legs myself to make them do so. Failure is not an option for any of us. We will march directly to their main settlements to force them into a decisive battle."
Lanius began distributing orders, his gaze fixed on the officers around him. "Nicodemus, you and your men will guard the southern flank. Ensure that no incursion from the river compromises our position."
The mention of the river made me think about how complicated the terrain would be. The Sundogs knew the region much better than we did and would use every corner to their advantage, especially the mountains and hills where they ambushed Centurion Paullus.
"Gaius, you and your men will be the vanguard of the entire operation. Use your flying machine to keep us informed about the Sundogs' movements. The frumentarii indicate that the profligates have captured many of our motorized carriages, so we anticipate numerous attacks," Lanius said, his tone severe as always.
Being the vanguard meant being at the point of greatest risk—the first contact with the enemy, the first to suffer ambushes and surprise attacks. But it was an honor I couldn't refuse. I knew that if I carried out my orders perfectly, I could earn more favor with Lanius and be the first to choose the spoils.
The Legate continued, addressing each centurion, delivering clear and precise orders on how to act during our advance. The campaign would be swift and decisive; there was no room for error. My men would have to be ready to move and react to every new report that arrived from the Vertibird.
The meeting ended quickly, and without further delays, the Legion's forces began to move with military precision, entering Sundog territory. My men, like those of other centurions, traveled in motorized carriages, ravaging local villages, killing tribal guards, and capturing those who surrendered or were left unarmed.
Meanwhile, I flew with a select group of five men in the Vertibird, watching from above. Every time we spotted a village or a tribal patrol, we reported their position to the ground forces so they could act. But what worried me most was whether the Sundogs had any improvised anti-aircraft systems. Even though they were tribals, I shouldn't underestimate them. They had already proven in the past that they could be lethal, and any ambush or trap could turn our flight into a deadly snare.
"Stay alert for any signs of movement on the ground!" I shouted over the noise of the engines, while one of my men observed with binoculars from an open hatch.
The desert and rocky landscape sped by beneath us. There were small villages, some already in flames where the legionaries were fulfilling their mission, but we had not yet seen any organized resistance.
"See anything?" I asked the observer as I turned the Vertibird to get a better view of the horizon.
"A lot of dust in the distance; looks like vehicle movement... but they could be ours," he replied.
I turned the Vertibird in the direction indicated by the observer, focusing my gaze on the horizon. A large group of vehicles was advancing rapidly, raising a wall of dust in their wake.
"Those aren't ours," I said firmly. "The force is too large to be just a vanguard group of the Legion. They must be the profligates..."
Without wasting time, I signaled to the radio operator. "Quick, inform our forces! Tell them to prepare for an attack. This isn't a skirmish; it looks like an organized force."
The operator began transmitting immediately, and I continued watching the column of vehicles in the distance. If the Sundogs had managed to organize a force of this size, then they were prepared to present much stronger resistance than we had anticipated.
"They're advancing fast. They might try to flank us or ambush us before we can regroup," I muttered to myself, trying to guess their strategy.
"Drusus, to the machine gun. I'll make a low pass; try to shoot at the tribals," I ordered, quickly turning the Vertibird and beginning to descend toward the enemy force.
The wind whipped the cabin as the roar of the engine intensified with increasing speed. Drusus, already in position at the mounted machine gun, adjusted the controls and prepared to open fire.
"Get ready! We'll be right on top of them in a matter of seconds," I shouted as the Vertibird tilted downward.
The enemy vehicles, although disorganized, continued advancing quickly, but the cloud of dust they raised made them easy to detect. They had no way to hide.
"Now, Drusus, fire!" I ordered, aligning the Vertibird to give him the best attack angle.
The machine gun began to roar, unleashing a rain of bullets toward the vehicles and the men running around. I could see how the shots hit the ground and the Sundogs' carriages; some staggered, and others exploded, sending pieces of metal and bodies into the air.
After executing the attack from the Vertibird, several sharp, loud sounds began to resonate on the fuselage.
"They're firing at us from the ground," I murmured, gripping the controls tightly. The sound of impacts on the armor was unmistakable.
"Stay covered!" I shouted, trying to gain altitude quickly to get us out of the direct line of fire.
Drusus, who remained at the machine gun, tried to locate the shooters, but the speed of the Vertibird and the dust in the air made the task difficult. "They're using long-range rifles!" Drusus shouted. "They don't seem to have anti-tank rifles, but they're aiming well."
"Alright, I'm going to gain altitude," I said as I adjusted the Vertibird's controls, moving us away from the enemy's line of fire. "We're returning to our forces. We've bought enough time for them to prepare for the enemy attack."
The Vertibird's engine roared as we ascended, leaving behind the dust and the danger of enemy fire. Through the window, I could see the Sundogs' vehicles disorganized and scattered after our attack. However, I knew this had only delayed them, not stopped them.
"What are they saying on the radio? Are the legionaries prepared for the arrival of the profligates?" I shouted to the legionary with the radio, adjusting the Vertibird's altitude as I awaited a response.
The legionary, wearing headphones, listened for a few moments before responding. "Reports indicate they are ready, Centurion! Decanus Cato says they are in position and have begun fortifying the defenses. They are awaiting the order to attack."
I nodded, relieved that our aerial attack had bought enough time for the Legion to prepare. "Perfect. Inform them that we'll be descending soon to join the ground forces, and that they should hold out as long as they can."
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