Hoplite Ridge is an electrifying tale of gods, warriors, and the relentless struggle between fate and free will. As the cosmos teeters on the edge of collapse, ancient deities stir, empires fracture, and warriors must choose between loyalty and survival.
In the heart of a dying empire, two brothers, Mars and Ares Augustus, fight to uphold a system they no longer trust. One clings to the past, the other questions everything. Meanwhile, Neptune, a rebel once revered and now condemned, prepares for a final battle that could reshape the destiny of civilizations. As Osiris, the god of death and renewal, awakens, the Vulture—an eternal observer—must break his vow of neutrality to restore balance.
At the crossroads of myth and science, the Hoplite Battalion—once enforcers of imperial might—faces a reckoning. Do they uphold the empire that forged them or embrace the chaos of change?
With breathtaking battles, shifting allegiances, and existential dilemmas, Hoplite Ridge is a gripping fusion of mythology and science fiction, where gods walk among mortals, and the choices of a few will decide the fate of all. In a universe ruled by power and resistance, the greatest struggle is to define what comes next.
In the cold darkness of his bedroom, Ares Augustus clicked the projection button on his holo-watch. He already knew it was 04:30 but checked anyway. It was his daily ritual, regardless of holidays, weekends, or vacations. Ares watched as the holo screen materialized a few feet from his face, displaying weather, news, net-mail, and messages in a ghostly blue apparition. The information floated above his chest on the light blue menu screen, subtly shifting in color tones.
Ares scrolled through the various work net-mails, perusing the action items and mentally creating a to-do list for the day ahead. It was all mundane, everyday minutia that his job had become over the past year. Retirement constantly occupied his thoughts, and Ares secretly counted the days until he could break free from the Legion. As his tired eyes strained against the ever-brightening holo-band screen, he saw the subject heading of a late-night net-mail. Ares muttered, "Ragnarök," and gritted his teeth as a wave of deep foreboding and sorrow washed over him.
When Ares Augustus was a seasoned lieutenant, he struck a deal with a group of friends across different services and networks as the Second Punic War escalated. They established their own early warning system in case they were left out of the loop during a major crisis between the Northern and Southern Continents. Ragnarök was the code phrase to be used only in a situation of complete and imminent catastrophe. Seeing that the message was already six hours old was more of an issue than the unfamiliar name of the sender. The network has grown in the last thirty years, Ares thought and tapped the open function.
***URGENT: RAGNAROK
All,
I, Dr. Julia Agrippina, a nuclear particle physicist at the Aeolis Mons facility, write to you with utmost urgency and gravity. With great regret and profound sorrow, I must inform you of the untimely death of Dr. Philo Quintus, a distinguished member of our scientific community. Tragically, he died in a catastrophic incident at the facility earlier today. While attempting to halt the operation of the theoretical particle collider, he was obliterated by a pressure wave resulting from a containment failure. We mourn the loss of an exceptional individual and brilliant mind.
Philo Quintus. That's a name I know, Ares thought, realizing that this was a legitimate message.
The purpose of this communication is to convey to you the distressing news of an unfolding crisis within the Aeolis Mons facility. Regrettably, all attempts to regain control and terminate the cataclysmic chain reaction set in motion by a particle beam experiment have proven futile. Consequently, we are witnessing perplexing oscillating magnetic field anomalies and electromagnetic pulse (EMP) phenomena, which are anticipated to intensify in the coming days.
Our comprehensive analyses indicate that the magnetic interference emanating from the facility may reach magnitudes up to 100,000 times greater than the planet's magnetic field. This is due to the uncontrolled release of energy from the particle accelerator experiment, which has created a rapidly expanding magnetic field. The collider, designed to manipulate and control particles at an atomic level, is now generating a magnetic field that is exponentially stronger than anticipated.
Our leading theory as to why the magnetic field is oscillating involves incursions into extradimensional space. The collider was designed to probe the boundaries of our universe and potentially access other dimensions. However, the uncontrolled reaction may have inadvertently opened a gateway to an otherworldly domain. This could be causing an interaction between the magnetic fields of our dimension and the other, leading to the observed oscillations.
While the exact cause of this perturbation eludes our current comprehension, conjectures also encompass the generation of miniature singularities or interactions with dark matter.
The consequence of our planet’s magnetic field distortion induced by these oscillating gravitational waves are cataclysmic. Our models predict an inevitable and substantial EMP event if the magnetic fields precipitate a polar shift. The paradoxical nature of our pursuits, aimed at facilitating interstellar voyages, has abruptly thrust humanity into an era of abject darkness.
Yours faithfully,
Dr. Julia Agrippina
***END COMMUNICATION
Ares read the net-mail a few times, absorbing the information. Aeolis Mons facility, he thought, going through the mental list of projects he had accumulated over thirty years in the Legion. Ares recalled hearing rumors about the facility but dismissed them as conspiracy theories. He pressed the power-off button on his holo-watch and sat in the dark solitude of his small, cell-like bedroom, contemplating the "what-ifs" and deciding on his next course of action.
After a few minutes, Ares got out of bed and proceeded with his usual morning routine. This included pushups, taking a hot shower, shaving, and savoring a steaming cup of Medusae Fossae's finest coffee. Ares needed time to think.
Then, precisely on schedule, Ares dressed in his uniform and stepped out the door, his mind pondering what it would be like to be obliterated by a pressure wave. Dr. Quintus's round face and cheerful smile appeared in his mind. It had been over ten years since Ares last saw Quintus, but they had shared a memorable night of debauchery. Now, Quintus was reduced to trillions of atoms, and the world was on the brink of being swallowed by a black hole or thrown into an age of darkness.
"Hey, Ares!" Prima, the neighbor from the next-door townhouse, called out. Prima was standing by her electro-car, watching Ares Augustus lost in thought. She noticed he had left his house unlocked and stopped halfway to his electro-truck. Concerned, she hurried across the narrow patch of lawn that separated their properties. "Ares! Are you okay?" She asked in an excited, shrill tone, placing a small hand on his broad shoulder, nearly a head taller than her.
Ares blinked and looked down at the petite redhead. "Good morning, Prima," he grumbled, attempting a smile.
"Are you alright, Ares? You've been standing here for a while." He looked exhausted to her and seemed slightly older compared to their brief chat at the mailbox a few days ago.
Ares stood upright, feeling the weight of the Agrippina net-mail. "Yes," he said with a deep exhale. "I am fine." He straightened himself and glanced around. "I was thinking something through." Ares gazed into Prima's deep green eyes and felt a tinge of sadness. She was in her late twenties and worked as a grade four teacher. A wonderful person, he thought.
"Okay, big guy," Prima patted him on his bicep. "Well, there's a reason why you're where you are," she tapped the rack of battle ribbons stacked on his chest. "I'm sure you'll figure it out, and people will be grateful for it." Prima smiled. "I'm having some friends over tonight if you don't get home too late. You should join us. I'm cooking a soy roast, and we'll have a few bottles of wine."
Soy roast. No one can afford meat anymore, Ares thought about the last time real meat was available. It doesn’t matter. Ares tried to return the smile but found himself gazing off at a distant passenger shuttle jet, wondering if it might fall from the sky. After a moment, he felt Prima's childlike hand squeeze his arm and looked back into her eyes. "Sure, Prima. That sounds nice."
There was a moment of silence between them as Ares turned away, scanning the sky for the shuttle jet or any signs of smoke on the horizon. "Hey, Prima, keep your holo-watch active today and check your net-mail a few times. In fact, set your holo-watch to alert you if I send you a message." Ares's tone grew low and cold. "If I do, keep it to yourself and take it seriously." His eyes were devoid of warmth or kindness.
Prima saw the creases forming across Ares's forehead as he stepped closer. She unexpectedly felt scared of Ares Augustus and didn't know what to do. "Okay," her voice cracked, and she stood there, paralyzed in the shadow of his hulking figure.
Ares nodded. "Good. Good, Prima. Hopefully, you will not receive that net-mail from me." Ares saw her trembling and realized he was looming over her. He stepped back, his gaze shifting from his high gloss polished boots to his holo-watch. "Thanks for checking up on me. I will see you later."
Prima forced a smile and hurriedly walked away.
Ares watched as Prima quickly entered her house, disappearing through her overgrown bushes and locking the door. He shook his head and climbed into the electro-truck. After a few minutes of contemplation and reflection, he thumb-printed the ignition on. Then he checked his holo-watch, opening the net-mail menu to see if anyone had responded to the Agrippina message. No new messages. Ares closed the holo-watch, shifted the truck into drive, and pressed the accelerator.
Suddenly, Prima appeared at his door, causing Ares to slam on the brakes. The electro-truck came to a jolting stop, the emergency auto-lock engaging. "What's going on, Ares?" She called out through the window.
Startled, Ares cranked the truck into park and cancelled the emergency override. "What in Tartarus?" He yelled back, his anger suddenly surfacing. Ares regained his military bearing, realizing that Prima wouldn't stand a chance if things were unfolding as Agrippina had warned. Ares roared through the window, "Check your net-mail every thirty minutes. If I do not come home tonight, pack a bag, and expect a centurion to pick you up."
Pack a bag and expect a centurion? She chewed on her lip, frowning, as Ares slid the truck into drive, overriding the computer's second attempt at a safety stop, and pulled away.
Ares stole a quick glance at Prima in the rearview monitor as he drove down the narrow road, his thoughts consumed by the people who would be left behind if this situation turned out to be real. The average citizen wouldn't survive what was coming.
The drive to work was short and he passed through the base gates and arrived at his Battalion’s designated parking lot. His mind was lost in thought as Ares checked his holo-watch once again and then opened his net-mail screen. There was a slight lag before the net-mail opened, but there was a reply-all to Ragnarök. Ares hesitated, then scrolled down and began reading.
***RE: URGENT: RAGNAROK
ALL,
The loss of Dr. Quintus is indeed a profound one. His brilliance and contributions to the field of particle physics were unparalleled, and his absence will be deeply felt. Our hearts go out to his family, friends, and colleagues during this challenging time.
I write to you as an administrator from Space Command stationed at the Near Lunar Observatory. We have recently detected significant anomalies in the magnetic fields. These anomalies were initially suspected to be the result of a large celestial body or a gravity well passing near our station. However, after a thorough investigation, we have determined that the source of these magnetic distortions is the Aeolis Mons facility.
Our instruments have detected not only the increased magnetic field strength but also a minor shift in the magnetic poles. This shift aligns with the predictions made by Dr. Agrippina regarding the potential for an electromagnetic pulse (EMP) event. Such an event could have catastrophic implications, disrupting electronic systems on a global scale.
The science behind this is rooted in electromagnetism. An EMP event is a burst of electromagnetic radiation that can disrupt or damage electronic equipment. This can be caused by a sudden release of energy in the planet's magnetic field, such as that which might occur due to the uncontrolled reactions at the Aeolis Mons facility.
The shift in the magnetic poles is also a cause for concern. The planet's magnetic field is generated by the movement of molten iron within its core. Changes in this movement can cause shifts in the magnetic poles. If the magnetic field distortions from the Aeolis Mons facility are strong enough, they could potentially influence this movement and cause a polar shift. This could have far-reaching effects on everything from animal migration patterns to our planet's climate.
We have alerted our superiors to these findings and are working to formulate an appropriate response.
May the Gods be with us.
***END COMMUNICATION
Ares closed the net-mail and took a moment to survey his surroundings. Only a few cars were in the parking lot, mostly belonging to junior officers who preferred to beat the traffic. Good people. My people. My families. His gaze fell upon a small silver station wagon, which he knew belonged to Centurion Captain Lucius Barca, whose wife had recently given birth to twins. What would happen to them? Ares had never had children; he almost had a wife. The Legion was his family. But his people had families too. "Okay," he said aloud, a clear understanding of what he needed to do and what lay ahead.
Ares ascended the short steps to the old block building that housed his offices and entered through the door. "Captain Lucius Barca!" He barked. " Lucius Barca, Decius Socellius, and find Caeso!" His voice echoed through the office. Rosa, his weathered secretary, let out a shrill cry and accidentally knocked over a cup of café express coffee, spilling it across her meticulously maintained desk. She glared wide-eyed and shaken as Ares disappeared into the small conference room. Within seconds, two square-shouldered, square-jawed legion officers hurried into the main office. Rosa pointed towards the conference room, and the two men galloped away.
It was 06:30, and Ares stood in a dark corner of the conference room, peering out of an old single-pane window across the parking lot. "Thank you for joining me, gentlemen," he said, returning their salutes. "Where is Caeso?" Ares asked, his tone somewhat calmer.
Captain Lucius Barca stood at attention, clenching his jaw and tightly balling his fists at the seams of his pants. "He has not reported to work yet, Sir." They were not usually this formal with each other, but something was wrong, and Lucius Barca was on his best behavior.
"Fine," Ares glanced at his holo-watch once more. Time. Is there enough time? He wondered. "Okay, guys, here is the deal," Ares paused, fully aware that if he was wrong, he would be court-martialed, dishonorably discharged from the Legion, and then executed. They will hang my body from the gates. Ares was quiet for a moment, remembering the mass executions in the officer corps after the Republic fell and the Empire was established. "I need to see the other company commanders at 0800. I need all junior officers and all NCOs. Cancel all leave and get everyone back here ASAP. We have 470 troops that I need ready for action immediately. Do whatever it takes to get them here, but we must be discreet about it."
Lucius Barca frowned and shifted uncomfortably. "Discreetly?" He asked.
Ares nodded briefly. "That's right, Captain. Discreetly. We do not have a choice in this matter." Ares squared his shoulders, planting his hands on his hips. "We must not alert Brigade. This is outside our regular chain of command. That means you cannot use the regular ALERT system. You have to do this the old-fashioned way. You have to call them or find them.”
Lucius Barca and Decius Socellius exchanged glances before looking back at Ares and smiling. "More asymmetrical training maneuvers, Sir?" Decius Socellius asked, wondering if it was best to remain silent.
"Gentlemen, you will receive a full briefing once everyone is assembled. I cannot stress enough how grave the situation will become." Ares paused, giving both captains a stern look. "If Brigade catches wind of what we are doing," he cleared his throat, "it will be the end for all of us. Misery and suffering will be all that is ahead. Do you understand what I'm telling you?"
"Sir?" Caeso spoke, entering the conference room with his favorite coffee mug in hand. He could see the stress written on Ares's face and the widened eyes of the other men. "Um, Rosa mentioned you were asking for me?" Caeso stood awkwardly in the doorway, his bald head reflecting the flickering fluorescent light.
"Alright, guys, make it happen. We are counting on you," Ares said, tugging at his collar. The two officers swiftly exited the room, leaving Caeso wondering what was happening. Ares dragged a creaking, decrepit office chair away from the cracked and stained conference table. As Ares settled into its thin, yellowed seat, the chair protested with a squeak. Caeso watched Ares closing his eyes and running a hand through a tuft of grey hair. "How long have you been working here?" Ares asked Caeso, adopting a more casual tone than his conversation with the officers.
"Forty-six years, Sir."
"I need something from you, Caeso. Something that very few people have nowadays. I know you have it, and we need it right now." Ares modulated his voice, though Caeso couldn't fully grasp the gravity of the situation.
"Yes, Sir."
"Good." Ares rechecked his watch. "Caeso, I'm going to share something with you. I will share this information because I need you to understand the magnitude of the impending disaster. I need you because we do not have time to go through the records room and sift through paperwork in a cramped, dust bunny-infested closet."
Caeso hesitated and cleared his throat. "Yes, Colonel."
"We're going to be hit with a massive EMP. It is something this Empire is completely unprepared for." Ares's jaw moved back and forth as he sat back coolly in the old metal office chair.
"Yes, Sir. I understand exactly what you're telling me." Caeso sipped his coffee and closed his eyes for a moment, recalling the civil alert broadcasts during the Punic Wars. Ares allowed him the time.
"Caeso," Ares abruptly stood. "I need to know the location of every Punic War stockpile hidden on this base that was not properly documented. I need to know where everything is. Apart from our Hercules Corp suits, I need anything that might withstand an EMP." Ares leaned precariously on the table. "Time is running short."
Caeso took a long sip of his coffee and nodded. "I'll get you a map and a description of each stockpile within the next hour."
"Good. Thank you."
Caeso was about to leave the small dimly lit conference room when Ares stopped him. "Caeso, I will take care of my people. That includes you and your family. Get this done, but remain discreet."
"Thank you, Sir." Caeso's voice broke slightly as he walked away. Ares remained seated in the small conference room, under the buzzing fluorescent lights that served as a constant reminder of the Empire's failing economy. I had a thousand soldiers just five years ago. A full Battalion. Those days are over. Ares ran his finger across the sleek holo-watch and opened the net-mail screen, curious about timelines and new developments. There was another reply.
***Subject: Urgent: Ragnarök Update: Escalation in Volcanic Activity and Potential Climate Impact.
Dear Colleagues,
I am Dr. Tiberius Tullius, a geologist representing the esteemed Tharsis Volcano Directorate. I write to you with a sense of urgency regarding the alarming developments unfolding on our planet.
Our team stationed in the Gale Crater has reported a significant escalation in volcanic activity. This increase is not isolated; we are observing corresponding spikes across the Ring of Fire, a major area known for its high seismic and volcanic activity due to tectonic plate movements.
However, the gravity of the situation deepens as we witness massive volcanic events occurring in multiple critical locations within the southern pole. Adding to this, one of our observation stations in the Samuel Crater Sea recorded an extraordinary venting event. Based on our assessments, this points towards an imminent eruption of a potential supervolcano beneath the eastern ocean.
To provide absolute clarity, should this heightened level of volcanic activity persist or result in a supervolcano eruption (or both), we must prepare ourselves for significant climatic changes. An eruption of this magnitude could lead to an extended period of freezing conditions lasting at least a year, if not longer, due to the large amount of ash and sulfur dioxide released into the atmosphere blocking sunlight.
Following this period of cooling, we would likely experience a warming trend due to the greenhouse effect. The carbon dioxide released by the eruption would remain in the atmosphere for a longer period, trapping heat and causing temperatures to rise. This could lead to the melting of the ice caps, which would have further implications for our planet's climate and ecosystems.
We are in the midst of a truly cataclysmic event.
Best regards,
Dr. Tiberius Tullius
Tharsis Volcano Directorate
May we find the strength and resilience to face this impending catastrophe.
***END COMMUNICATION
Ares closed his net-mail and slowly sank into the old chair. He surveyed the conference room, the humming lights, and the yellowed block walls, contemplating their next moves. Was there enough time to organize? The loss of power, followed by a nuclear winter. Dr. Tiberius Tullius called it a cataclysmic event. Ares strengthened his belief that no government could withstand such a disaster.
A soft knock on the door interrupted his thoughts, and Rosa peered in. "Sir?" She asked tentatively, noticing Ares lost in thought and staring at the blank wall. "Sir?" Rosa entered the small conference room, accompanied by the wafting odor of stale black-market cigarettes.
Ares didn't turn from the wall; he sat bathed in the flood of light streaming through the large windows. "What is it, Rosa?" He glanced at his watch once again. Rosa hesitated, recognizing the look on Ares's face. Something huge was happening.
"It is not a drill, Rosa," Ares said, aware that Decius Socellius, Lucius Barca, and several centurions were out in the office, working furiously to recall what was left of his Battalion. He rechecked his watch before craning his neck to peer out the window.
"I figured that out, Sir." Rosa possessed the distinctive voice of someone who had spent years indulging in whiskey and cigarettes. She nervously massaged her hands. "Are we about to get nuked, Sir?" Rosa knew she shouldn't have asked the question, but she couldn't suppress her curiosity or her fear.
Ares turned back to Rosa, who stood in the doorway, and offered a slight smile. "No, Rosa. I think we will be just fine. What we will rely on is loyalty. Hopefully, there is enough." Rosa frowned, failing to grasp his meaning, but she would understand eventually. Ares stood abruptly from the wobbling chair. Together, they hurried through the cramped office, dodging enlisted legionaries and junior centurion officers in a controlled frenzy. Their once quiet and subdued office had transformed into a chaotic madhouse. As long as it appears calm on the outside, Ares thought. Rosa felt a nervous unease churning in her stomach, struggling to suppress the anxiety-driven nausea as she followed Colonel Ares Augustus into a dark-paneled office. Rosa stood back as Ares opened a safe, similar in size to a dorm refrigerator, tucked away in a corner. Squatting down, he spun the antiquated dial and pulled on a lever. Ares reached inside and carefully extracted a stack of folders, placing them reverently on a desk. From the pile, he delicately retrieved a blue file folder. "Blue Sparrow. This will be our course of action when Brigade sends orders. But I am making all of the decisions today," he said just above a whisper, reading a labeled tab before opening the envelope. The folder contained a single document with one paragraph. Great. What a plan, Ares thought.
***Catastrophic Non-Nuclear Electromagnetic Pulse Imminent. Expect non-hardened equipment, communications, transportation, and supply chain failures. Anticipate civil unrest. Take all necessary measures to secure facilities and assets. Do not attempt to quell civil unrest. Further instructions will be sent via courier. Expect several months without communication from senior command. ***
Forgetting about Rosa momentarily, Ares rechecked his holo-watch before opening his net-mail. There was nothing.
"Colonel?" Rosa's gravelly voice faltered as Ares made eye contact.
"They are not ready for this, and they only know half of it." Ares handed the blue folder marked TOP SECRET to Rosa. She hesitated momentarily, reading the brief paragraph, before placing the folder on a deeply scarred desk. Unnoticed by Ares, she quietly exited the room as he began composing a net-mail message.
Rosa calmly navigated the busy office, as streams of young centurions hurried down the hall towards the large conference room. She nonchalantly sat at her desk and retrieved a tin of black-market unfiltered cigarettes from her top drawer. As the next group of senior enlisted entered the office, they saw Ares's secretary casually smoking at her desk, instantly realizing something big was happening.
Ares stood near the small window in the dim office and dictated a net-mail to his favorite contacts. He made sure to add Prima.
***ALL - URGENT
This morning, I received word that a large-scale event will occur in twelve to thirty-six hours. This event will destroy our civilization. It is survivable. Head inland, away from coastlines and population centers. Be prepared for... Ares hesitated, one to six years without government or supply chain. Expect civil unrest and a collapse of the government. You absolutely must keep this communication secret. Good luck, and may the Gods be with you.
***END.
Before hitting SEND, Ares wanted to add his brother to the list. They had been estranged for years, and his brother held the rank of consul. His net-mail was undoubtedly monitored by the intelligence services. Ares thought for a moment and realized that if he sent his brother a net-mail, the intelligence services would initiate a second-party query and gain access to his communications. They would know everything. Ares also realized that someone on his contact list was likely under state surveillance, which meant that queries were being conducted on anyone sending or receiving messages to or from them. I can't risk it, Ares thought, and he deleted the email. I'll send a centurion to find Prima and call my brother from the office. I'll leave him a message, saying it's Top Secret Urgent Legion business, and he should call me back ASAP. That way, the intelligence officers must request a special warrant, which could take a few days of bureaucratic processing. But I need him to call me and not the Brigade. How do I ensure that? Ares exhaled, realizing he needed a code phrase his brother would recognize. Lizard Breath! He remembered how that phrase was used when their father fought in the First Punic War. Ares recalled his father gathering them at the dinner table and instructing them to head to the bunker if they ever saw the words "Lizard Breath" anywhere. Mars, being a decade older, would surely remember. Ares thought to himself.
"Colonel?" Lucius Barca's broad frame filled the doorway. "They're all here and assembled in the large conference room."
Ares powered down his holo-watch. "Let us go." As they made their way through the bustling office, Ares picked up a hole punch and forcefully struck it several times into a metal trash can. The loud, jarring noise captured everyone's attention. Ares looked at the young centurions with their smooth whiskerless faces. Most junior officers were hunched over desks, holding archaic landline phones, while the older, weary senior enlisted personnel searched through files. "Hang up your phones and head to the conference room. I want everyone there to be in the loop. You all need to understand the big picture and be ready to organize." Without hesitation, a chorus of phones clattered as they were placed back on their receivers. Ares and Captain Lucius Barca followed the troops down the hallway and entered the conference room through double doors.
The four company commanders were seated in pairs at the front tables, with notepads open before them. Clusters of centurions and sergeants occupied the remaining chairs, engaged in hushed conversations that blended into a constant murmur. Silence fell over the room as Ares entered, save for the shuffling of junior centurion officers and senior enlisted finding seats. Ares moved to the front of the room, standing in the stream of dusty sunlight pouring through tall windows. He uncapped a dry-erase marker and inscribed a single word on a defunct holo-board.
Ragnarök
Ares turned away from the vintage holo-board to face his troops. They sat in silence, embodying professionalism in every aspect. The conference room was packed, filled with soldiers seated shoulder to shoulder. In front of Ares, four first centurions, eight second centurions, and a dozen noncommissioned officers awaited his words. These were men and women he had fought alongside, bled for, and nearly died for during the Southern Continent Uprisings. He hoped that they remembered and respected the sacrifices he had made for them. Everything from this point forward depended on their loyalty. This gathering represented the leadership of their Battalion, and Ares needed to convince them to commit mutiny.
"Good morning," Ares began quietly, receiving a chorus of "good morning, Sir" in response. A fleeting smile crossed his face but quickly vanished, leaving behind a stoic facade. It was a look his troops recognized as the worst imaginable sign. "At some point in the next twelve to twenty-four hours, we will receive an alert. We will not be told why. Roughly fifteen thousand service members from this base will be mobilized for immediate deployment approximately six hours after the alert is issued." Ares glanced at his feet before returning to the word Ragnarök. "I do not intend for us, our immediate families, or any member of our Battalion to be here when that happens." A few young centurions exchanged nervous glances.
"Because if we are, it will be too late. By the end of next week, the Empire, the government, our society, and our way of life will cease to exist. The Empire will only exist within the decaying pages of the books we abandoned for our tech pads and holo-watches."
The room fell silent.
"During the first battles of the Second Punic War, we believed a nuclear attack was imminent and knew many of us would be left in the dark. We established a network and code phrases. It served as our own early warning system and a means to ensure the safety of our families or find a way to convey our love to our children," Ares explained, his gaze shifting toward the young fathers in the room. Locking eyes with Lucius Barca, he continued, "They wanted to see their kids one last time, if possible." Ares saw the reassuring nods of understanding across the room. " Ragnarök was the code phrase for maximum readiness. At 4:27 AM this morning, I received the first communication under the subject of Ragnarök. By the time I saw it, several hours had already passed." Ares glanced at his holo-watch. "At this point, it has been ten hours since the first communication. On a conservative timeline, we are rapidly approaching zero hour."