Daniel Ottalini - Copper Centurion

“Sir, portside lookout reports a Roman castrum , still intact,” the communications officer called.

“I’ve got destroyed mechaniphants and mecha-wolves on the starboard side.”

“Topside lookout reports that there appears to be a siege caterpillar against the curtain walls; looks like it’s still active.”

“Wireless operator, begin sending messages,” Alexandros barked. “If that fails, get out the signal flags. There must be someone alive down there.”

Several tense seconds followed, the suddenly quiet cabin disturbed only by the beeps and clicks from the wireless room.

“Take us down to five hundred feet,” Alexandros ordered. The airship lost height as it vented gas and its tailwings forced the ship lower. Peering out the window, he saw figures moving within the Roman camp and between the camp and the fortress. But are they friend or foe?

The ringing of a bell announced the arrival of a wireless message. Again silence on the bridge as the crew turned as one to watch the operator scribble down the message, fold it, and hand it to the first officer, who walked it over to the captain. He read it once, then again, tears coming to his eyes. He read it aloud: “To: H.M.A.S. Scioparto. Stop. Message received loud and clear. Stop. Primus imperio alive and well. Stop. What in Mercury’s name took you so long? Stop. End Message.”

The bridge crew erupted into cheers. Alexandros sank into his chair, relief washing over him. Men slapped him on the back and congratulated him.

“Well done, sir!” Travins said, tears rolling down his cheeks.

Well done, indeed .