Chapter Text
Cassius
Cassius woke to a mouth full of ash and dust. He heaved air into his aching lungs only to instantly regret it instantly. There was something jammed into his chest just below his right shoulder. He tested that he could still move his arm, and much to his relief, he could. He was doubly relieved to find his razor still gathered at his hip
He felt vindicated in his decision not to wear his razor around his dominant forearm, as was becoming the popular fashion for his generation. Based on the way his arm had been half pinned beneath a stone when he woke, he could’ve likely sliced his arm off.
He’d considered wearing his razor on his forearm for all of three days before he saw Darrow wearing his razor in such form on some violet gossip rag, and decided he’d continue to wear it at his hip like some Arcosian knight of old. He’d scoffed at the idea of Darrow even choosing to wear a razor. It wasn’t like the traitorous bastard could use it.
It was occurring to Cassius that his current train of thought was ill suited to the considerable danger he was in. He must’ve lost a considerable amount of blood. Flashes of memory began to come back to him then. Panic and claustrophobia hit him in waves as he struggled to stand only to feel nothing but jagged stone around him.
He could feel his heart beating too quickly. Blood began flowing from his shoulder faster, and a voice in his head told him if he didnt gather his wits quickly he would die here from either blood loss or suffocation.
He closed his eyes and focused on the cool feel of the stone beneath him. He’d always loved the cold. He’d loved the bite of the wind as it rushed around him. He loved skiing, snowball fights, and flying through the snow covered mountains on a gray bike.
Slowly, he came back to himself and began to more properly assess his situation. A jagged piece of stone had pierced his right shoulder, but not gone all the way through. He could feel and move both of his legs and arms despite what was clearly a break in his left tibia. He couldn’t feel any difficulty breathing, but without anything to light this chamber he was unable to check for abdominal bruising that would signal internal bleeding. Based on the excruciating pounding in his skull and his loss of consciousness, he’d sustained a bad concussion. He hoped the darkness around him was simply because he was buried, and not due to blindness.
Now that he had assessed the damage he needed to discern the severity of his situation. Based on the cold around him he would probably not last a full day out here before hypothermia and or complications from his injuries rendered him completely unable to move or seek help. He needed to get out of under this rock and begin moving immediately.
This was all easier said than done. He tried to shimmy out from beneath the rocks but the rock fragment sticking into his shoulder was making this difficult. Futilely, he pressed up on the stone above him. He felt a slight shift but dust and small rock fragments rained down into his face.
It was his fourth attempt to unpin his shoulder from the rock fragment that he realized he hadn’t yet tried his comms. With his left arm he tried to contact Aurelius, but when he reached his ear he noticed there was. Warm wet feeling and what felt like fragmented metal poked him. Wonderful, his comms had been smashed into his ear canal.
He couldn’t hear anyone above, but at this point he had only one course of action at his disposal.
“Help! Please! I am Cassius au Bellona and I am trapped in this rubble! Help me please!”
He went on like that for what he was going to assume was an hour before his dry dust covered throat gave out on him.
Tears gathered in his eyes from fear and frustration. He felt so tired and alone. He had been feeling tired and alone for so long now, but this physical manifestation of the emotions he’d been burying since leaving Darrow to bleed out in the snow was too much.
He didn’t feel like a peerless scarred here trapped in the ruins of Eagle’s Rest nor did he feel like a Son of Ares. He felt like a boy who missed his brother.
The hollow silence where Julian’s voice should be was haunting him even now. Maybe it was finally time to give up and let the void take him.
He thought of the servants he’d seen burning. He thought of the low colors he’d sworn to fight for. House Bellona would not let this attack go unanswered. If they placed the blame on the Sons of Ares, then Karnus would be sent to terrorize the low color districts of Olympia till any hint of rebellion was squashed. Hundreds possibly thousands would die regardless of their involvement.
He needed to live, if not for himself, then for them.
The only problem was that whether he lived or not wasn’t up to him, and never had that truth rang so clearly than in this moment.
Narol
"Scan again, and ease up on that bloodydamn throttle or you're liable to cause an avalanche." Narol called over the comms
It had been two days since their favorite little gold had vanished under a pile of rock and snow that spread wide over several kilometers of the cliffs of the Olympus Mons.
Narol and the Pit Vipers had packed up and hauled ass the to tiny Sons of Ares base run out of the mines beneath Olympia and Eagle’s Rest. With a shitty old scanner and an even shittier older claw drill he was leading the boys as they scanned and drilled through what ruble they could while also evading the Bellona’s own search teams. With the Bellona searching above and the Pit Vipers searching below you’d think the pretty little golden prince would’ve been found by now, but the search effort was reaching its forty ninth hour. Soon, the technical term would change from search and rescue to search and recovery.
Narol kept his eyes on the bio scanners in front of him looking for even the faintest heat signature. He had expected they’d run into more interference from Bellona forces conducting their own search, but he’d found their efforts were solidly focused on the mountainside above. By the time it would occur to them to employ the help of a drill team, Cassius would be long dead. That was assuming that by some miracle, the man was still breathing now.
A ping lit up his data pad. It was Dancer. Narol silenced it. There was too much static around the subject of Dancer for him to focus in on the task at hand. He’d cross that bridge later.
“Sir, we’ve got a ping. It cold be another pit viper nest like the last two, but this is the only one we’ve found for two hours it’s worth taking a look.” Keefe said tiredly beside Narol.
He and the boys had been drilling for the better part of sixteen hours straight. None of them were experienced with mine work, and only Colm knew how to operate a claw drill. Operate was a generous term, if Narol was being honest. Colm was right shit at hell diving. Narol checked the map to see how close they could get themselves to the ping before they’d have to go in with the smaller manual stone cutters to get there.
When Colm was about as close as he could get before he shredded whatever was giving off the heat signature, Narol called for him to stop.
“Take a rest Colm. You’re as close as you should get to the signature without a proper ring and wedding.” Narol called over the comms from his seat in the cave crawler he was following him in
Chuckles echoed from the boys as Narol instructed Cashel, Arin, Ronin, and Declan to start manually cutting. They hadn’t been digging long before they opened a small opening under which was none other than their errant Bellona.
Narol only half believed what he was seeing from their helmet cam footage. Cassius was pinned under some of the nastiest debris he’d seen in all his years. “Vitals now!” He called to Declan who’d rushed to Cassius’s side first.
“Sir, he’s breathing, but he’d not got long. He’s lost more blood than I think I’ve got in me. Hey gold man, you need to wake up. I’m here to save your sorry ass again.”
Narol heard a groan on the radios, but not that arrogant aureate voice. “Can you four extract him?”
“No sir, even with the drill, we can’t safely excavate without disturbing the integrity of the debris above him.” Cashel called.
“We can’t just leave him. There’s got to be a way.” Declan objected. He’d been the only one of the group who’d actually been excited when the gold had been assigned to their crew. He felt some attachment to the man who’d saved his life that day in Olympia.
“I didn’t say we had to leave him. Yer more dramatic than a girl.” Cashel retorted.
“Oy what would you know about girls? You’ve been kicking with the Sons longer than any of us.” Was Declan’s snide reply.
This was part of why Declan was always in the field on mission while Cashel was solidly in a cockpit. This fight would go on till Cassius was long departed from life if Narol let it.
“Oy neither of you two idiots know piss all about girls, but if I hear one more word from either a ya that doesn’t pertain to keeping that bloodydamn Bellona alive I’ll leave you down here as a snack for the pit vipers.” Narol sniped over the comms.
The fighting ceased as they began troubleshooting ways to get Cassius out without crushing the lot of them under the rubble, until Keefe spoke up.
“Sir I just don’t think we have the equipment to get him out, but I’ll bet the Bellona do. We need a way to signal that he’s here without giving away that it was us who found him.” Keefe said confidently.
“That’s all fine and well,” Ronin finally spoke up. “But we can’t exactly hide our claw drill trail nor the evidence of the first aid we’re giving him now. If we signal the Bellona, and they suspect reds were here helping him, well it’d be kinder to put a scorcher through his skull.” Narol could always count on Ronin for his daily dose of dour pessimism.
The problem was that both men were right. The Bellona were Cassius’s best chance, but the evidence they were here was too great. Narol couldn’t puzzle their situation either way, and in the meantime, Cassius’s breaths were numbered.
Just then, a startled breath rang out over the comms followed by a scream of pain.
“What’s what?” Narol asked quickly.
“Sir he’s awake. Arin was applying some antibiotics but we ain’t got painkillers.”
“What’s happening? The children. Where are the children?” Cassius’s voice was slightly muted through the comm unit, but Narol could tell he was slurring his words. He was making some half hiccuping noise like he was gulping for air.
Arin’s voice rang out over the chaos. “Sir, on top of the blood loss his right lung is collapsed. We don’t have time to get him back to base. He’s dying.”
Narol sat back in the seat of his crawler. His mind was taking him back to all the times he’d been told words just like those over comms just like these. Fifteen boys and men. A small number when matched to the statistics of most head talks, but fifteen more than Narol could live with. It would be sixteen in a few minutes. This gold man was born to nothing but riches and luxury, was taught nothing but now to most viscously dominate the worlds, and wanted Narol’s nephew dead. All the same, he was a man under Narol’s charge, and he had failed him. Narol listened to the hiccuping half sobs of the dying man on the other side of the comms.
“My,” *hup*. “razor.” *hup*.
“Sir, what should?”
“Give the man his razor. Let em die in the way he requests.” Narol cuts Arin off. There was still a not small part of Narol who hated everything Cassius stood for, but in the end he’d died protecting his family’s children. Narol could respect that at least and honor the man’s final wishes. He didn’t know piss all about gold traditions, but if all he asked at the end was to be holding his razor, Narol would have his Vipers oblige him.
His… Razor…
“Arin! Is the spike impaling him all the way through to the ground beneath?”
“No sir. It stops somewhere inside him.”
“Keefe I need scans. What is that stone atop him made of?” Narol looked back at Keefe who was staring at him wide eyed and confused.
“Erm, it looks to be marble, Sir. Probably from the part of the palace that buried him.”
Narol nodded finally having a grasp on a course of action.
“Boys take that razor and slice through the spike. Durosteel is leaps and bounds stronger than marble, and if the spike isn’t pokin’ em all the way through then it’s not bearing the load. Get to it lads.” Narol’s mind was no longer back in the mines of Lykos. Cassius had a fighting chance.
With the sound of an Electric *thrum* the spike that was holding Cassius in place was carved through like butter.
“Moving with the Bellona now back to the crawler. He’s still fading fast, but we might save him yet if we can get some rezflesh on him and reinflate that lung while in transit.” Ronin announced.
Ronin had been the most vocally opposed to accepting a gold’s offer to join the rebellion, but at his core he believed in Ares more than anyone Narol knew. He’d follow an order from Ares even if he asked him to dance naked in front of Octavia Au Lune, because he’d trust it would serve Ares’s schemes.
When the boys finally hauled Cassius into the back of their cave crawler Narol thought he was already dead. Carrying him hadn’t been an easy feat for them. Cassius weighed twice as much as any red man, and they’d had to do their best not to jostle his injuries.
Arin started shouting orders for supplies. Narol switched with Cashel to let him take point driving them back to base. He hadn’t had the chance to explain to the haggard old geezer that was running group of no more than fifteen men that made up the Sons of Ares cell that operated under Olympia, that he had needed his claw drill and cave crawler to pick up a peerless scarred. He hoped Dancer had figured out his plan and gotten in contact with the man after they had left. Dancer was smart like that and loved ruining Narol’s fun.
Narol looked down at the man bleeding out on the floor and despite himself and all he knew about Cassius Au Bellona, he hoped he’d pull through.
Hours later, he and his Vipers were waiting as the best medic the tiny Olympian Sons cell could cook up was shaking over a still unconscious Cassius while he finished stabilizing the gold.
Narol had managed to bully the cell commander and his medic into keeping quiet about Cassius’s presence by saying it was a direct order from Ares, but he could tell they’d be getting twitchy soon. He needed to call Dancer. Hopefully he could convince these two not to go running their gobs to the rest of the cell. Most of these men came from Bellona run mines. Narol was sure that a mostly dead Bellona ripe for the vengeful murdering would make their day.
Narol stood up making it clear to the Vipers not to let Cassius out of their sight while he went and called Dancer. As he made his way out the door and into a common area where about ten men were all whispering and speculating on all the fuss. He considered asking for a share of the swill they were all enjoying. He didn’t.
Narol had by no means quit drinking in the days following the fight he and Dancer had had the other night, but rather than giving him a bit of relief, it made him feel a new sense of guilt and shame he wasn’t all that fond of. It was fraying his nerves. Put a man like him in stress like this and take away his primary source of comfort, well, Dancer really could be a cruel devil at times.
Narol made his way to a more secluded area in the vacant mine town, and caught his reflection in some old metal scrap someone must’ve left rotting around decades ago. He looked like some shite. He looked down at his comm unit and considered just going back in and wishing for the best from those jumpy sods, but he knew it wouldn’t be the best case. Cassius Au Bellona would not make it out of this mine alive unless either Dancer or Ares gave them the order to let him live themselves.
This whole day was beginning to piss Narol right off.
Dancer
Narol hadn’t spoken to Dancer since that night they’d fought. Dancer had known the truth would scare Narol off. He had hoped Narol would be willing to listen to him explain or at least have a fight about it, but no. Narol must’ve been so disgusted with Dancer once he learned the truth that he wanted nothing to do with him.
It shouldn’t hurt so much. Darrow had been down right nasty to Mateo when he’d learned he enjoyed the intimate company of men, till Dancer gave him readings on how the golds had designed red culture to hate homosexuality in order to maximize efficiency in the mines. He then had him read ancient poetry and writings by various queer writers from the time before the conquering.
It had taken a significant amount of time, but by the end of his tutoring sessions with Mateo, he had apologized to him for his jeers and cruelty. He had still had a long road of unlearning to walk, but he’d vowed to Mateo that he would walk it.
It had given Dancer hope that Narol would eventually come around as well. The silence in the last six days had proved that was not the case. It didn’t help his sorrow that Narol and the Pit Vipers had run off when the Eagle’s Rest had been bombed. Narol had left him a recorded messaged saying they were off the try and find the Bellona before their hard work was all for nothing.
Now Dancer sat in his office both sad and pissed, trying to figure out if the team he’d spent several months curating might’ve been captured by Bellona.
“Dancer, it’s Narol do you copy?” The voice came from Dancer’s comms he’d kept in his ears, hoping Narol would respond to his call requests for nearly two days now.
“Aye, Narol where the bloodyhell you boys been off to these past few days? Ya nearly gave me an aneurysm with the blinding headaches your stupid and pointless rescue mission has given me.”
“Listen, Dancer, before I continue I need to say somethin’ to you that I should’ve said the other night.”
Dancer braced for the words he’d hidden from his entire life since joining The Sons.
“I’m sorry. You were right. My drinking and self pity have gotten down right cancerous to my life and overall self. I know it’s killing me, and that’s not fair to those who don’t have the ability or know how to fight with us yet. I’m not the leader or the man I should be. If I’m being honest, I gave up on that man a while back.”
Dancer hadn’t expected that. He had expected slurs and hatred. He had expected questions or accusations. He hadn’t expected an apology.
“You called to… apologize to me?” The words were so quiet. Dancer was at a loss for what to say.
“Aye ya bastard. No need to get all smug about it, and I won’t be repeating myself.” Narol clearly thought Dancer was taunting him.
“You don’t want to, well.” Dancer stopped to swallow the lump that’d been stealthily forming in his throat since the fight. “You don’t wan’t to discuss… what I said. You know? The um.”
“Dancer, has your tongue run off with your ears, man. You can’t speak and you clearly haven’t listened. This is me talking about what you said. I’m telling you I know what you told me is true and I’m sorry for being such an arse.”
“No not that. I thought. I thought that you were avoiding me because of the other thing that I mentioned.” Dancer didn’t know where to bravery to mention his past to Narol had originated in the first place. It was probably just pure rage at Narol being well, Narol.
“What are ya on about what other… oh.” There was silence for a moment for both of them while Narol gathered his thoughts.
“Dancer you know I did actually read all those books you gave me years back. I know the way reds think about homosexuals is a tool of our evil overlords to keep us having as many babies as possible for their bottom line. I don’t…” Narol sighed. “That isn’t how I think anymore. Shit boyo, did you think that’s why I wasn’t talking to ya?”
There were tears running down Dancer’s face. He knew he couldn’t speak without letting Narol know he was crying so he stayed silent.
“Dancer I hadn’t thought of that. I’m sorry. You piss me off for about a dozen other reasons, but who you love will never be one of em.”
A sob broke from Dancer’s chest. He had kept that secret for so many years, and to know Narol knew, and didn’t care…
“I” Dancer cleared his throat “I haven’t told anyone that. Only Ares knows. Narol, most of the reds in The Sons don’t. They aren’t like you.” Dancer was so used to being able to shape worlds with his words but right now he could barely string together a complete sentence. Narol’s acceptance and apology had thrown him off kilter.
He’d been hiding for so long.
“Listen, Dancer, uh we can talk more about this another time if you want, but I ain’t got a lot of time for it right now. We found the Bellona but he’s in bad shape. He nearly died in our crawler on the way here. There’s a medic here in the Olympia cell who’s treating him, but the moment the wrong ears hear he’s here, he’s gonna die bloody.”
Dancer cleared his throat again. This he could do. He’d mastered the art of compartmentalizing in his years as a revolutionary. He locked all thoughts of this conversation and the last week of turmoil away. He would open the box when this was all over.
“Good work finding him. Is there any chance you can just dump his body on the surface somewhere the Bellona will find him?” Dancer asks already knowing that if that were a viable option Narol would’ve done it the moment he’d found Cassius.
“No. We used a drill team to get to him. If they discover that, he’ll be implicated in our activity, and they’ll kill him anyway. The Bellona think we tried to kill their babies. They’ll slaughter him if it looks like reds rescued him. As long as he’s still with us, the mission may still be salvageable until we figure out a way to get him back to Eagle’s Rest.”
Dancer was still shaken by their earlier conversation, but he’d recentered himself enough to gather a bare bones plan.
“At the very least we need to get him out of that cell so that his throat doesn’t get slit.” Dancer began to call up some of the other teams he had on site. Their cell was much larger and much more equipped to handle treating Cassius and keeping his presence a secret.
Cassius
Cassius woke to pain. He couldn’t remember where he was. He couldn’t remember what had happened. He could, however, remember that the children were in danger.
He gasped and sat up with a start “Daedalus! Daedalus where are you? Plutus?” His own voice sounded slightly muted, then he remembered the
comms unit that had smashed in his ear canal.
“Boss, he’s awake!” A red boy he vaguely recognized who was sitting in the in the corner of the room called. He was wearing beat up old armor with a sunburst helm on it. He was with The Sons of Ares.
“About bloodydamn time. Well princess how was your beauty sleep? We were beginning to wonder if one of us was gonna have to give you true love’s kiss to break the spell.” It was the disgruntled little man who’d first vetted Cassius when he’d met with The Sons, Narol.
“Oy, I’m sure Declan would’ve volunteered. He’s been sitting vigil for days weeping over your half dead corpse.” Said a taller red man who walked in behind Narol.
“Can it Ronin, or I swear on the Veil I’ll—“ The boy who’d been sitting in the corner reared up at Ronin. He must be Declan.
“That’s enough, the both of ya. Now Ronin go be useful for once and get Dancer. He’ll want to know his least favorite recruit is conscious.” Narol cut the bickering boys off.
Both Declan and Ronin appeared to be seventeen maybe eighteen. Declan was about average height for a red with a lopsided grin and bright, hopeful eyes. Ronin on the other hand had a prominent scowl and was the tallest red Cassius had ever seen. He was nowhere near as tall as a gold though, with the exception maybe of that goblin. While Ronin was tall, He was in that awkward stage of growth where his muscle mass hadn’t caught up to his growth and was all awkward limbs, like a half grown Great Dane puppy.
“Yes sir.” Ronin said without protest and turned to go fetch dancer.
“What happened?” Cassius asked, dazed and parched. “My family, the fire, the /children/.” Cassius needed answers.
“Calm down Cassius your family is all alive, and the children, as far as the news is reporting, are all just fine. Far as we can tell, you’re the only reported casualty of the attack.” Narol said it calmly. Cassius knew the man held no love for the Bellona, but he placed a comforting hand on Cassius’s shoulder all the same.
Cassius let out a half sob and grabbed Narol’s forearm to ground himself. He’d done it. They’re all alive. All of his family at least. He’d seen the corpses of various House Bellona staff as he’d been running to get the children to safety. The memories were coming back to him slowly but vividly.
“Who?” Cassius let go of the man as his vision turned red and he began to tremble in rage. “Who did this?”
“Her name is Harmony. She defected from The Sons of Ares some months back after deciding our methods weren’t… extreme enough. She’s the same woman who’s been bombing various sites around the globe, but especially Olympia in recent weeks” Said another red man Cassius recognized as he strolled through the door to Cassius’s room. It was Dancer.
Cassius remembered the cold woman’s voice as she’d stalked him in the H-3 Warehouse all those weeks ago. He would rip her apart if he ever got the chance. Then something Narol had said came back into his mind.
“What do you mean my family is reporting me as the only Bellona casualty?”
Dancer and Narol shared a knowing glance before Narol cleared his throat. “It’s been six whole days since the attack. You fell off a cliff while rubble rained down on top of ya. On top of all that, the blizzard that was raging during the attack only just let up two days ago. The Bellona search teams have deemed the conditions unsurvivable. They’re still searching for your remains, but your kin have declared you died in that attack. It’s hellfire in the low color neighborhoods. Your family has sent that brute Karnus out to ‘snuff out the insurgents.’ We’ve been laying low trying to figure out a way to resurrect you without tipping of your homicidal elder brothers that it was the Sons of Ares that found and rescued you”
Cassius leaned back into the pillows. The bed he lay in was far too small and wildly uncomfortable. He doubted that they’d hosted many golds.
“What of my family’s servants? I saw so many dead in the flames. I couldn’t save them and the children. How many did I fail?”
Dancer gave him a slight nod of respect, but his expression remained ever disapproving of Cassius.
“All in all, the low and mid color casualties were catastrophic. One hundred and sixteen dead reds, sixty dead browns, twenty six dead pinks, seventeen dead grays, three dead coppers, and more than two hundred wounded. There are also around seventy still unaccounted for and presumed dead like you. Like Narol said, The blizzard only let up a few days ago, and the full search and rescue efforts have only really just begun.”
Tears streamed down Cassius’s face. He knew that he’d never know all their names, but they’d died in his family’s service. He had failed all of them.
On top of that, Aurelius had brought down the mallet that was Karnus on the people of Olympia least capable of defending themselves.
“I know it’s a lot to take in, but we need to bring you up to speed on another situation. We have intel that Harmony is keeping at least fifty of those low and mid colors unaccounted for captive somewhere. We don’t know her plans for them, but I doubt she’s being a gracious host.” Narol said grimly.
“Why would she take captives? I can’t fathom how any of this serves her aims. She didn’t even kill any of the Bellona, but she’s destroyed hundreds of low color lives.” Cassius can’t wrap his mind around the wonton violence.
The red boy, Declan pipes up at that. “The bombs originated in the servant’s wing which just so happened to be right near where the children are housed. We believe the staff were the actual targets of the attack. Near as we can tell it was vengeance maybe against the people who benefit off the House Bellona money who aren’t stepping up to rise against them.”
“If she wanted to punish low colors close to Bellona, she succeeded. This violence won’t end with Karnus ripping through their neighborhoods in Olympia. House Bellona will be waging war on the Sons of Ares. My brother Aurelius will likely begin mustering troops any day now to occupy the mines beneath the Mons in an effort to show the full breadth of Bellona strength. My father is also likely returning from Luna right now.
There’s also a hight chance that they may blame Augustus for this, somehow. If that is so, there could be civil war across Mars. I need to return now to try and quell what I can before too many are caught in the crossfire.”
Dancer nods “Aye you need to get home as soon as possible, but like Narol said we can’t just send you back after you’ve clearly had medical attention without any explanation as to where you’ve been and how you were found.”
“How did you find me when Bellona search efforts failed, anyways” Cassius asked the question that’d been in his mind since he’d woken up. His chest ached where the rock spike had been embedded.
Declan chuckled as Narol answered. “We snagged a clawdrill and dug like hell. All that fancy gold tech and nobody thought to dig underneath the storm heh.”
Cassius gave a chuckle himself. These reds were constantly surprising him with their ingenuity. The fact they’d come after him at all touched him more than he was willing to say. Then an idea came to him.
“Do you know where Harmony is keeping the captives?” Cassius looked back and forth between Narol and Dancer.
“Not yet, but it’s in the works. Why?” Dancer answered.
A smile grew across Cassius’s face.
Aurelius
Aurelius looped the helmet cam footage of Cassius’s final moments for what felt like the hundredth time. He had seemed so sure of his decision to sacrifice himself for Aurelius’s own life and that of his infant daughter, Hera. There was peace in his eyes at the end. Aurelius tried to take comfort in that. It didn’t work.
“Dominus, there’s another call from your father. Would you like me to send it through?” The voice of his secretary called from his office’s speakers.
He closed his eyes and steadied himself. “Yes. Please do.”
A hollow image of his father sat before him in the middle of the room at his own desk. His father’s ship was still weeks away from Mars so the image was blurry at times, but he could see in his father’s eyes the weariness of several nights without sleep. His mother stood at his side, one arm on her husbands shoulder. She wore the simple black attire she’d donned since Julian’s death.
“Has there been an update on Cassius?” His father asked stoically. Aurelius had dreaded this moment since the official call had been made that the conditions within the debris field in the blizzard had been declared ‘unsurvivable’ and the rescue mission had been dubbed a recovery mission.
“Two days ago, the assessment team confirmed there is no evidence of human life signatures within the debris field. Cassius has perished.” Aurelius didn’t think about the fact it was his own brother of whom he was speaking.
His mother put a hand to her mouth and turned to walk off somewhere. Aurelius was grateful he couldn’t see her reaction in full. He didn’t want to show weakness and begin weeping in front of his father.
Tiberius’s back straightened and he worked his jaw. “I see.” His eyes blinked rapidly trying to stave off tears. He cleared his throat. “Has Karnus been successful in rounding up the perpetrators?
“As of yet, no. However, his methods have drawn some dissent from within the low color districts. In order to quell some of the riots, and keep the masses focused on the true enemy, we’ve put out some news stories on a few of the low colors killed in the attacks. We’ve interviewed their families and featured stories about their lives. It is viewed as a tragedy amongst the low colors. There have been vigils held in honor of the fallen.” He doesn’t say Cassius’s name.
His father stares blankly ahead at him as he listens to the reports. “Good. Keep things in line till I get back. I will contact you again in three days.”
The hollow image of his father vanished, and Aurelius felt himself trembling. He felt guilty that his grief for Cassius was dwarfed by his fear of disappointing his father.
“Dominus, there’s another call incoming.” His secretary called to him.
Decline all other incoming holograms for the remainder of the day. I need time to think.
“That is not possible, Domunus. This call is coming directly from the ArchGovorner’s line."
Aurelius snapped to attention, as the call came through. Nero Au Augustus stood flanked by his chief politico, and two of his lancers. The lancer to his left was none other than Darrow au Andromedus. Fury lanced through Aurelius at the sight of Darrow. He was on this call as a taunt to the Bellona, a mockery of their loss.
“Aurelius Au Bellona, I presume?” The ArchGovorner’s cold voice rings out in the room.
The ArchGovorner phrases it like a question, but Aurelius knows that Nero knows exactly who he is and why Tiberius wasn’t the one to answer this call.
“That is I.” It’s all Aurelius can bring himself to say.
“I am calling as a curtesy. A contingent from my Anti-Terrorist Task Force will be landing on your estates within the hour. They expect full cooperation from the Bellona Household as they conduct their investigation. They have also deemed it necessary to halt all rescue, excuse me, recovery efforts within the debris field in order to preserve any remaining evidence. Pliny here will forward you all the necessary warrants as they have just been approved by the martian senate. He pauses, and a smile grows across his face as he looks over to Darrow. “House Augustus would also like to offer our condolences for your family’s loss."
With that the hologram cuts off, and Aurelius is left reeling by the audacity of it all. Nero has simultaneously been given free rein to scour through his family estates, and made their search for Cassius’s remains impossible. If Tiberius were here, perhaps this would be different, but as it stands Aurelius can do nothing while Nero sends his goons to march in and scour his family’s home in their time of loss.
He closes his eyes and Cassius’s face in those last moments plays once more behind his eyelids, and he can’t help, but feel this is all his fault.