Pov of Aaron kimball
The television broadcasted its storm of bad news, each word biting deeper than the last.
"Terrible news strikes the Republic: Caesar's Legion has shattered our southern lines. Reports indicate thousands dead or missing in action following the devastating assault on Camp Searchlight..."
"Kimball's war, as everyone knows it, has once again claimed the lives of our sons. Camp Searchlight has become the grave of thousands of young Republic soldiers, sent to fight for the interests of those who line the president's pockets. How many more must fall in this crusade for Hoover Dam?"
They call it Kimball's war, as if it were a bloody spectacle I orchestrated. The screen shifts, showing reporters with somber faces.
I clenched my fists, feeling the tension in my jaw.
"The Legion's attacks are spreading like a plague across the southern Mojave region. Experts claim the losses at Camp Searchlight are only the beginning of a mounting pile of bodies that just keeps growing..."
The broadcast shows images of wounded soldiers, destroyed convoys, faces covered in dust and fear. The cries of devastated families fill the screen.
"Numerous attacks hit our troops, who are led aimlessly. What is General Lee Oliver thinking? Thousands of young lives lost in senseless offensives..."
And then, the final blow, images of an imposing man in armor at the front of the battle.
"Breaking news... brave reporters have managed to bypass the media blockade and have captured, for the first time, the Legion general who led the attack. As you can see, the Legion leader personally oversaw the assault on the city of Nelson. Predictions indicate another defeat for our troops, another that the government will try to hide from the public eye."
The image fades, and the next report shows a sea of people gathered outside the Senate.
"Outside, thousands demand an end to the conscription. The new reports from the front, with horrific casualties, have led the people to call for an immediate end to President Kimball's war."
I grabbed the remote furiously and hurled it at the wall.
"Damn it... damn it... damn it!" Everything is falling apart. The journalists circle the Senate like hyenas, senators whisper behind my back, calling for my resignation, and people in the streets cry for an end to the draft and the weight of taxes. I've given Oliver everything he's asked for, everything! And in return, he's only brought defeats. That miserable...
"All to try to make Chief Hanlon look bad, with that desperate 'Hail Mary' at Boulder Town, just because Hanlon took the glory. And what did Oliver do? Sent the Rangers to Baja chasing ghosts while the Legion secured the dam and the scarce water... and now this. How did no one know anything?!" I shouted, my voice echoing in the solitude of the office.
"Three damn years... just three damn years, and those Legion fanatics went from wielding machetes to wearing power armor... and now they even have damn Vertibirds. God only knows how they got them. We barely managed to keep a few when we took Navarro and expelled the Enclave," I muttered through gritted teeth, feeling rage boiling in my chest.
The sound of the phone on my desk interrupted my thoughts. I picked up the receiver immediately, and hearing the voice on the other end, the fury returned with greater intensity.
"President," said Oliver, as if nothing had happened.
"Finally, you have the decency to contact me, Oliver," I spat. "Tell me, why the hell did I have to find out from the press what's happening on the front? Huh? Damn fool. Do you have any idea the position you've left me in? Senators are circling, demanding my resignation. They're ready to dismantle every effort for the Republic's expansion, all because you couldn't defeat the Legion at Hoover."
My voice rose, barely containing my frustration. "They struck us at the dam, and in the meantime, you allowed those savages to retreat, regroup... and come back stronger than ever. And now? Now we have no resources from the dam, our troops' morale is shattered, and we're facing a Legion that's nothing like the rabble we fought three years ago. Do you understand the disaster you've created?"
"I know, Mr. President..." Oliver replied, his voice heavy and tired. "The Legion seems unstoppable in the Mojave. They're using tanks, armored personnel carriers, Vertibirds... even power armor. They've changed their strategy completely, and we're facing a force entirely different from the one we knew. In the last hours, the Legion hasn't stopped pressing us. I haven't slept for days, but we barely manage to contain their advance."
I listened to his report with a mix of disbelief and simmering fury. The Republic was paying the price for his incompetence.
"We've lost Nelson, Mr. President, and Camp Forlorn Hope is under attack as we speak. It seems that the town of Novac will fall within hours, and we've already seen Legion patrols close to Nipton... We may lose control of the entire south in the coming days."
I listened to each of Oliver's words, feeling my fury building up inside me like a ball of fire. The Republic was paying the price for its incompetence, its arrogance, and its lack of vision—all for underestimating those barbarians, for thinking they were the same machete-wielding rabble from three years ago.
"Our casualties continue to mount and are immense, Mr. President. The Legion fights with a coordination our conscripts can't match. For every one of their men we manage to bring down, we lose ten of ours. And our lack of heavy equipment is... obvious." Oliver swallowed, and I could imagine the pallor on his face as he admitted it. "We can't stop those damn Vertibirds that cross our lines and carry out missions behind our positions, further weakening our morale and defenses. We have no way to counter them."
There was a long silence. The line was tense, heavy, until Oliver finally broke it, his voice now carrying a tone I'd rarely heard from him.
"We are facing total war, Mr. President. The Legion is coming for everything. They aren't just after the dam or the Mojave… they want to crush the Republic. I believe we need to focus all our forces on this front, halt all other campaigns, and fight the Legion with… everything we have. It's our only option."
I listened, gritting my teeth, feeling his request swirl through my mind, filling every corner with doubt and fury.
"We need to bring back the troops from every front of the Republic, Mr. President. We must mobilize every piece of equipment at our disposal, including the gear recovered from Navarro and the Enclave. Without it, we are bound to be overrun. Now, while we can still hold part of the line, is the time to use the emergency powers granted by the Constitution. If we don't… the Mojave will become a slaughterhouse for our boys."
The urgency in his voice was as clear as the fear behind his words. I knew what he was proposing was monumental, almost unthinkable. But he was right: the Legion had crossed the line, and the war was on the brink of catastrophe.
"Prepare a speech for the Senate, Oliver," I sighed heavily. "Try to hold the line until I've given it. Then, I'll handle mobilizing every non-essential troop to the Mojave," I replied, hanging up the call.
I spent a couple of hours preparing a quick speech, aiming to unite the people against the Legion while also targeting the senators who supported peace with the Legion or my resignation.
I signed the use of emergency powers and called an emergency Senate meeting. I presented myself, dodging the hundreds of reporters trying to get a word and the blinding flash of photographers' cameras.
I stepped onto the podium, feeling the weight of responsibility in each step. The Senate chamber was silent; the senators' faces and those of the citizens present watched me with a mix of expectation and resentment. Outside, the crowd swelled, thousands of voices clamoring, their cries reaching the Capitol walls as a distant murmur. I took a deep breath, letting the gravity of the moment fill the room before beginning.
"Senators, citizens of the Republic, we are here today at a critical moment. Caesar's Legion is advancing with a purpose we cannot ignore, a goal that threatens to destroy everything we've built. Some of you have questioned our actions, some have questioned this war, and some have even questioned my leadership. I stand here today to clarify, to be transparent, and to ask you to believe in the purpose that unites us.
"Since I took on this responsibility, I have made tough decisions, each with a single goal: to defend and expand the New California Republic. We have worked and fought to build a home where our children can live freely, a place where justice and freedom are the foundations of our future. But that dream is now in danger, and those who underestimate the Legion's threat do not understand the cost of such ignorance.
"This is not the same Legion we saw years ago. They have evolved. They are no longer just fanatics with machetes; they're equipped with tanks, Vertibirds, and power armor. We face an enemy with resources and ruthless cruelty, an enemy that operates with a precision our soldiers have never faced. Camp Searchlight, Nelson, Novac… every battle site has reminded us of their brutality and their capacity to adapt and grow stronger. They are not here to negotiate; they are here to subjugate us. Against that threat, our only option is to resist.
"Some have questioned my use of the emergency powers granted by the Constitution, and I want you to know that I did not take that decision lightly. I invoke them now because circumstances demand it. We must focus all our strength on a single front. This war will not be won with hesitation or doubt but with determination and unity. The Legion has regrouped and rearmed, and to counter them, we need every resource, every soldier, every weapon the Republic can muster.
"Yes, this is a monumental effort, but this is not just a war. It is a crusade against tyranny itself. This is the Republic's war, the war of all who have sworn to protect our land and our people. This is not about my ambition or my ego, as some have suggested; it's about defending the home we've worked so hard to rebuild.
"To those who have lost loved ones on the front lines, to those who question the cost of this war, I say: freedom always demands sacrifice, and though the price is high, the value of what we defend is priceless. To those who seek peace with Caesar, I ask: at what cost? In exchange for what? Our freedom? Our dignity? No, that is not an option. The alternative is submission, slavery, and death.
"Therefore, today I ask you to stand firm, not to yield to doubt. This war is our crusade, and I promise you that every effort, every sacrifice, will not be in vain. This is not just my fight. It is the fight of each and every one of you. The New California Republic will not kneel. Though one may fall, a hundred more will rise to defend what is ours. Today, more than ever, we need your trust and courage because together, victory will be ours. Together, we will show that no tyrant, no invader, will ever take from us what we have built.
"Senators, citizens, this is our moment. The Republic will prevail, and when this conflict ends, it will be clear that freedom is ours by right, and it will never be taken from us."
I finished, letting my words resonate through the room. I looked at the faces of those present; some still held doubts, but in others, I saw determination, a fire I had kindled.
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"Centurion Valerianus, this is Legate Gaius. Proceed with the bombardment of Camp Forlorn Hope. I want it leveled by tomorrow. You are authorized to use as much mortar ammunition as deemed necessary. I repeat, all available mortar ammunition. And if you find it prudent, use artillery. Understood?"
"Roger, Legate," Valerianus replied through the static on the radio.
I switched channels. "Centurion Aelianus, hold positions. I repeat, hold positions. Ensure your men do not advance beyond the established trenches. I want everyone in place, ready for further orders."
"Understood, Legate," Aelianus responded, his voice steady on the other end of the radio.
The radio crackled again.
"Legate Gaius, this is Centurion Lucullus. The profligates' defenses are crumbling. Now is the time to strike while they're disoriented. Requesting permission to advance."
I took a moment before responding. "Negative, Centurion Lucullus. Your orders are to hold position and await reinforcements from Centurion Marcellus. Repeat, hold position. Your cohort has been in combat for too long and is low on ammunition. We won't risk our men under these conditions. Proceed with waiting."
A brief silence followed on the line, then a "Roger, Legate. We will hold the position."
My orders were clear and precise: unrelenting bombardment of Novac, a steady push against Nipton, and a continuous advance northward. Each of these directives was relayed to my centurions, who executed my will on the battlefield as extensions of myself. The cohesion of the legions was absolute, every move calculated, every advance planned to weaken and exhaust the NCR without granting them any reprieve.
I had commissioned a detailed map of the Mojave, and each time I issued an order, I moved my strategic pieces across that map, maintaining absolute control over every active front. Thanks to this system, no detail escaped my oversight, and the Legion coordinated its attacks with precision few armies could match. The reports arriving at my desk detailed not only the movement of my own forces but also those of the NCR, thanks to a network of spies we had embedded within their ranks. One of those agents, an officer named Picus with the rank of captain in the NCR, provided us with critical intelligence. Every three days, Picus sent a detailed report on the NCR's actions and plans against us, allowing us to anticipate and counter their attempts to regain ground.
My strategy of manipulating the media to undermine General Lee had been a resounding success. The propaganda and constant coverage of casualties had sown discord in the NCR. Protests erupted in their major cities, and pacifist senators raised their voices, calling for negotiated peace or even total withdrawal from the Mojave. Public pressure on Lee struck indirectly at his leadership, affecting morale more than the war itself. Many NCR citizens now viewed the Mojave as a meat grinder, a cursed region where their sons were sent, never to return.
While these elements didn't decide the war in a tactical sense, they impacted the NCR soldiers' morale, which was a valuable tool. Public resistance to the war meant fewer reinforcements, fewer soldiers willing to face the Legion, and, ultimately, fewer parents willing to sacrifice their children for an increasingly inhospitable territory.
"A full ammunition convoy destroyed, Legate Gaius," Vulpes announced in his calm and calculating tone, entering my tent without making a sound, as always. "Though it cost the lives of three of my more expendable frumentarii."
I kept my gaze on the map spread before me, every marked point representing a planned action across the Mojave's vast expanse. The destruction of an NCR ammunition convoy was undoubtedly a victory.
"As expected," I replied without looking up. "With each calculated strike, we bring the NCR closer to exhaustion. Your frumentarii knew the cost, and they fulfilled their purpose with honor."
Vulpes nodded, his expression as unreadable as ever. "The NCR's morale is at a critical point, Legate. Protests in their cities and divisions in their Senate are hindering their ability to react quickly. The pressure on General Lee increases by the day."
"Although it's anticipated that soon, the general will receive thousands of reinforcements and advanced equipment in the coming weeks," Vulpes calmly reported, "Kimball intends to throw everything against the Legion."
A slight smile crossed my face as I analyzed the implications. "That would be ideal," I replied. "With so many new troops, it will take time to organize them effectively. Our spies will have the opportunity to embed themselves within their ranks and, with some luck, infiltrate key positions. It's only a matter of time before our advantage becomes apparent."
Vulpes nodded, grasping my intention to continue preparing for the final phase of the campaign. "Then, shall we continue securing the routes toward New Vegas?"
"Yes," I replied. "By next week, our forces should control all access points to the city. Once it's surrounded, we'll only have to wait patiently for the return of Legate Lanius. With his arrival, the fall of New Vegas will be inevitable."
Vulpes was about to deliver the latest report from our spies when the entrance to the tent opened. Lucius, the Praetorian Prefect, entered with his usual solemn and calculated authority, his martial stance underscoring the seriousness of his message.
"Lord Caesar wishes to know in detail how the front is progressing," Lucius said, his voice firm and respectful, conveying the importance of this update.
With a gesture, I invited him to approach the map, where all the Legion's positions and movements in the Mojave were plotted. It was evident that Caesar was tracking every step of this campaign, and I knew that my words would be carefully judged.
Lucius observed me with a penetrating gaze, reaffirming the order. "Lord Caesar wishes to hear this information personally, Legate."
I nodded, fully aware of what this request implied. Caesar desired a firsthand update, and any hesitation would be seen as a lack of confidence in our strategy. I glanced at Vulpes, who remained silent, understanding his report would have to wait until after my audience with Caesar.
"Very well, Lucius," I replied. "I'll meet with Caesar immediately."
Lucius gave a slight nod and followed me to Caesar's command tent, the place where the leader of the Legion himself directed the Mojave campaign, observing our every move with the precision of a chess master, calculating each next step.
Upon entering, Caesar sat before his own map, eyes fixed on the marked points and reports laid out on the table. The lamp light cast shadows that accentuated his severe, calculating expression.
"Lord Caesar," I said, bowing in respect, "I bring a detailed report on the situation at the front."
Caesar looked at me expectantly. "Proceed, Gaius. Tell me how our campaign progresses."
Calmly, I outlined each aspect of the operation. "Our forces are already securing the roads to New Vegas, and we expect to control all access points within a week. The NCR, though receiving reinforcements, is struggling with organization due to the influx of inexperienced troops. This delays their response capability, creating a window for our spies, embedded in their ranks, to spread misinformation."
Caesar nodded slightly, his face impassive as he absorbed each word. I continued.
"Additionally, we've begun strategic bombardments on key points like Forlorn Hope, weakening their resupply capabilities. The frumentarii have targeted several supply convoys, destroying them before they could reach their destinations. Protests in NCR cities and pressure on General Lee increase daily. Our spies have sown rumors of internal conflicts and distrust in NCR command, further weakening their morale."
Caesar leaned forward, a faint smile of satisfaction appearing. "Excellent, Gaius… soon I will have my Rome, the jewel in the desert…" he said, trailing off, his gaze fixed on the empty air, as if his thoughts had drifted to a place unreachable to others. He only blinked occasionally, his intense expression frozen, captivated by that vision.
I watched in silence, but when I glanced at Lucius, I noticed something that caught my attention: a faint shadow of concern on his face. His posture remained firm and martial, but his eyes betrayed unease. Seeing Caesar so lost in thought, almost disconnected from the present, had touched a nerve in the praetorian prefect.
I moved closer to Caesar with a mix of alarm and urgency. "Oh, shit…" I muttered, unable to hold back the reaction at seeing him in that state.
"Watch your mouth! You're in the presence of Lord Caesar," Lucius murmured, a mix of anger and fear in his voice as he saw our leader in that strange pause, trapped in distant thoughts.
Without wasting time, I began removing my power armor. Caesar, as if finally returning to himself, blinked and looked at me with confusion, the vacant intensity in his gaze fading.
"Where…? I will rule and bring order to… what are you doing, Legate?" he asked, his tone reflecting surprise as he saw me, visibly concerned and so close to him, stripped of my armor.
"Lord Caesar," I replied, steadying my voice, "I believe we should speak alone." I cast a firm glance at the praetorians around us, knowing the last thing we needed was for this conversation to be misinterpreted or to fuel rumors.
Caesar glanced around, his gaze scanning the faces of his protectors before nodding slightly. "Everyone, leave us," he commanded, his tone regaining something of its usual strength. The praetorians exchanged quick looks among themselves but obeyed without hesitation, leaving the tent in reverent silence, leaving only Lucius, Caesar, and me.
"How long have you had these mental lapses?" I asked seriously, as I took a small flashlight from one of my compartments and turned it on, shining it directly into Caesar's eyes to observe his pupils and any abnormal signs.
Caesar squinted, visibly irritated. "What is this about, Gaius? My mind is as clear as ever."
"With all due respect, Lord Caesar," I insisted, "if we want this vision of Rome in the desert to come true, we need you to be in the best possible condition." Lucius watched silently, his concern evident yet respectful of the moment.
Lucius finally spoke with cautious restraint. "Lord Caesar has had these lapses somewhat frequently in recent months. At first, we thought it was just the exhaustion of the campaign… but they seem to be occurring more often."
Caesar leaned back in his seat, exhaling a deep sigh, as if releasing a burden he'd been carrying in silence. "Very well, let's state the obvious," he began, his tone so direct that neither Lucius nor I dared to interrupt him. "There is something wrong with me. The headaches started a couple of months ago. At first, they weren't too severe… but now they come frequently, and they are… debilitating."
He paused, passing a hand over his forehead as if recalling the pain made him relive it in that very moment. "In the past two weeks, my left leg has been dragging. It's stiff, hard to move. And you've both seen me disconnect. Lucius says I stare into the void, blink a few times, and then continue speaking as if nothing happened." He looked at us with a mixture of resignation and determination in his eyes. "So, what's the diagnosis?"
Lucius and I exchanged a glance, and the weight of his words hung in the air. I cleared my throat, aware of the gravity of the situation. "Lord Caesar, based on what you've described, it could be a growth in your head—a tumor—that's pressing on certain areas of the brain and causing these symptoms."
Caesar gave a slight smile, though his eyes reflected a blend of defiance and acceptance. "Congratulations, you've just appointed yourself my personal doctor as well as my legate. Do you have what you need to treat my condition?"
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