Been awhile, but here's a shortish entry into the flash fiction meme:
The Centurion awoke, relaxed.
Without opening his eyes, he knew his setting. The room would be his cubiculum, set off the atrium. The soft linen drapes would be swaying gently, messaging the cool, salty, breeze as it rose up from the sea below. To his left were his weapons: a sword, the shield and a grenade launcher he’d picked up somewhere and taken into his affections. To his right, a bowl of fruit filled with the plenty of a midsummer’s Mediterranean harvest.
At the head of the bed, the medicus printer; salving his wounds, and stitching in the last of his new body.
At the foot of his bed, the Patavian would be sitting.
“I know you’re awake, Centurion. Business awaits.”
The Centurion opened his eyes a slit, and took in the image of Senator Zorzi Barbo. To the Centurion’s Roman sensibilities, the Senator was all the image of a fop: dressed in breeches, knickers and far too many capes. Senator Barbo’s face was obscured by a mask held in place by some artifice the Centurion neither understood nor asked. The Patavian indulged in so much complexity of dress, when a simple toga would do. The Centurion opened his eyes fully.
“What news, Uncle, from the Truce?” asked the Centurion. This was always his first question, upon awakening.
The Senator winced: “The Truce holds, but thinly. Rousseau’s bastards observe the same limits we do.. No large scale incursions detected. Some skirmishes: the Democracy, the Populares as you call them, overran your Observation Post. This is why you are back here, Centurion.”
“I remember. Some place called Saigon? A bomb, I think?”
“No matter; the Optimates have new instructions for you. We have new information which may break the stalemate.”
The Centurion smiled; the war was long and he was tired.
“Really,” the Centurion said.
“Yes. It is long past due. Come, get ready. The Senate Sub Committee on the Prosecution of the War meets within the hour; the Dutch are preparing The Hague for their purposes.”
“Good. Perhaps we will finally be able to staunch this rising tide of democracy before it drowns us all, Zorzi,” said the Centurion.
“Yes. For Venice,” said the Senator.
“For Rome,” replied the Centurion.
“For the Republic of Kant,” they concluded, in unison.
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