Ulpia Noviomagus Batavorum, Roman Empire
121 A.D.
Three days earlier, the Legio IX Hispania, or Ninth Legion, had arrived from Britannia with thousands of followers under their care to escort back to Rome. Among these followers were wealthy merchants, a handful of members of the Senate of Rome on a fact-finding mission, the Flamine or Priest of Portunes, and hostages taken from newly allied tribes in Britannia. After several years of service in the Britannic highlands far to the north in the troublesome and distant Roman province, the Ninth was returning home.
The Ninth was the most storied legion of Rome. Formed by Pompey the Great during his term as Proconsul of Spain, the Ninth soon moved into Gaul. There, the Ninth came under the command of Gaius Julius Caesar, where it remained during his conquest of Gaul during the Gallic wars. Facing prosecution and exile following the Gallic war, it was the Ninth that marched with Caesar on Rome, securing his rule and political survival. Lacking a second thought, the Ninth crossed the Rubicon River, their belief in Caesar's fabled luck firmly entrenched.
In the turbulent wake of Caesar's entry of Rome, the Ninth remained at his side. Into Africa Province they marched, all to secure Caesar's rule. The victories of Dyrrhachim and Pharsalus might never have been without these battle-hardened veterans. Following these victories, the veterans of the Ninth were discharged from service, and granted land belonging to the fallen Pompey in his native Picenum.
Following Caesar's assassination, Octavian, his nephew and heir, recalled the retired veterans. Back under the sword, these men took their fight to the rebelling son of Pompey, defeating him handily. From there, they marched on Macedonia, into battle with the forces of Mark Antony and Cleopatra. During the Battle of Actium, the men of the Ninth put to rest Mark Antony's hopes of wrestling away control of Rome forever.
Much later, the Ninth served as the vanguard force for the invasion of Britannia. Led by Emperor Claudius and his able Legate Aulus Plautius, they soon made their mark on the landscape of the island province so far from Rome. The largest mark made could be seen by all in the fortress outpost of Eboracum. Once again, the Ninth was returning to Rome, for discharge and retirement on land gifted from the Emperor.
Four hours before the first light of the day, the Legion commander Lucius Fabius Maximus, with the settlement Auger, sat in the small Temple of Fortuna. Sitting in silence, the two men watched everything around them. An owl screeched three times, and a distant thunder could be heard. These omens did not portend a good journey. To offset these ill omens, Fabius Maximus ordered that a calf would be sacrificed to Fortuna.
Unwilling to argue the point with one as wealthy or powerful as a Fabius Maximus, the Auger complied wordlessly. A young calf of jet-black hair was brought forth. Making his contract with Fortuna, Fabius Maximus brought down with force the ceremonial mallet between the calf's doe eyes. Falling to its knees stunned, the Auger's assistant cleaved off the animal's head with a razor-sharp axe. Crimson-colored blood, black in the dimly lit temple's interior, flowed across inner paving stones. The contract promising the Legion a safe march was sealed with the blood of sacrifice.
For three days, the local merchants, tavern keepers, and pleasure women of the city had profited greatly from the legionaries' open purse strings. Wine had flowed in great abundance. Trinkets were purchased, to remind the young men of their time so far from home. In those three short days, the economy of the small city brought in more than it normally did in a month. The departure of the Ninth was not something those in the city wished to see.
Informed the night before of their departure at first light in the coming day, the legionaries were already breaking camp. As horns sounded, the legionaries fell into formation along the road that would lead them to the Via Belgica, and their path towards Italy. In the front of the winding formation were the leading cohorts of the Ninth. In the formation's center were those under escort. At the rear were the remaining cohorts, the Legion's baggage train, and their attached Gallic cavalry.
The column began its march while the rear half continued to form. Three miles long, this column slithered off into the distance like a snake composed of men and armor. The rhythmic clack of caligae, or Legion hobnailed boots, carried across the countryside. Known throughout the middle sea, as the Mediterranean was known, this cacophony of noise was the sound of the Roman military machine on the move. Joining this symphony was the clattering of hooves on road stones. Flags fluttered in the breeze, while sunlight glinted off Legion armor. The men broke into song as they marched.
"Gaius Fabius, the men are weary from wine and women." Quintus Servius stated.
"A hard day's march will cure their ills. An army on the move is what Legion rankers do best. We will sweat the wine out of them before midday." Fabius replied.
"Our Senatorial charges were overheard discussing bringing your orders of an early morning departure to the Emperor's attention upon our return to Rome." Quintus Servius warned.
"Let them! I am a patrician Fabius, and in good stead of our Emperor. Their complaints will fall upon deaf ears." Fabius promised.
"How can one be so sure?" Quintus Servius asked.
"Our Emperor has a soldier's constitution, and his heart yearns to be at the head of a Legion on the march. Of this, I am sure." Fabius assured his underling.
For five hours, the Legion marched on. Moving at a fair pace, the miles passed effortlessly. Each step taken brought the veterans one-step closer to home. It was that knowledge that propelled them forward. Like any good commander, Fabius had deployed his horse-mounted scouts out ahead of the oncoming Legion. Eight in total, these scouts ranged miles ahead, searching for any possible threat. On the Via Belgica ahead, Fabius took note of two scouts racing towards the formation.
Reporting directly to Fabius, the scouts neatly bypassed the body of the formation. Instead, they raced directly towards the commander who rewarded them for performance. Falling in beside him, Fabius took note of the fact that the scouts' horses had run at full speed. Clearly, their message was important.
"What have you to report, Centurion?" Fabius demanded.
"Along the Via Belgica ahead, six balls of fire plummeted from the sky." Centurion Flavius reported excitedly.
"Balls of fire? Is that all? Tell me more." Fabius pressed.
"As the balls of fire fell, thunder claps rang out. This must be a sign from Jupiter Optimus Maximus!" Flavius continued.
"The Gods favor you! Consider yourself lucky to have seen such a sight as this. Jupiter Optimus Maximus must have great things for you in the future." Fabius replied soothingly.
"What if it is an ill omen?" Flavius asked timidly.
"Fear not Centurion. I have made the proper offerings and contract with Fortuna. Let not fear consume your heart." Fabius assured his underling.
"More of our scouts approach, Gaius Fabius." Quintus Servius announced.
Looking off into the distance, Fabius saw that indeed two more scouts were racing back towards the formation. Perhaps they had seen the same sight. Fabius knew in his heart that along the Via Belgica, within the heart of the empire, he and his men had nothing to fear. Were they closer to Germania that might have been different, but not here he was certain. Racing faster than Centurion had, these next scouts arrived minutes later.
"Have you come to report great balls of fire and flame in the sky?" Fabius asked lightly.
"No Imperator. Four miles to our front, along the Via Belgica, troops are straddling the roadway." The scout stated.
"Who's troops, boy?" Fabius demanded.
"I do not know, Imperator." The scout demurred.
"The Gauls. It must be the Gauls. It could be that another tribal chieftain has it in his mind to become another Vercingetorix." Quintus Servius mused.
"Well, boy? Were these troops Gallic? What color is the pattern of their shawls?" Fabius demanded.
"No shawls, Imperator. They wear armor, and carry long walking staffs. No shields or swords could be seen." The scout replied.
"Archers?" Fabius asked.
"None, Imperator." The scout answered.
"Insanity! This enemy dares to challenge the Emperor's Legions, and not bring proper weapons to the fight. Insanity!" Fabius exclaimed.
Acting on instinct, Fabius began to issue orders in rapid-fire fashion. Orders went forward for the lead elements of the formation to halt, and begin forming a square. At the same time, orders raced towards the rear to instruct the tail elements of the formation to advance at the run. On arrival, these men would form the rear half of the square defensive formation. Each legionary took their long shields from their back, while checking their scabbards for swords at their waist.
For twenty tense minutes, Fabius waited for the rear of the formation to arrive. The baggage train and those under escort soon found themselves safely ensconced within the defensive square. That complete, the rear cohorts completed the tail of the square. Archers rushed to ready bows, and quivers of arrows. Ready, the archers assumed position behind the leading edge of the defensive square. Outside of the formation, the Gallic cavalry stood ready on the left wing. Seeing all was as it should be, Fabius began to speak to the men. Centurions would repeat this speech at all corners of the formation.
"When you arrived in Britannia, you were boys. Forged in the kiln of battle, you will return home as proper Roman men! I know not who stands in our path. If they wish to meet us in battle, so be it! You are the Ninth! In the name of the Emperor, you will lay this enemy low. Long ago, the Ninth laid low the best of Gallic warriors. We will do so again! Do your duty for the Emperor, and know that Jupiter Optimus Maximus watches over you." Fabius yelled confidently.
In formation, the square moved forward. Expecting battle to unfold at any moment, two miles passed effortlessly. In the distance, a line of men could be seen clearly standing across the Via Belgica. Not a sword or shield was in evidence, nor were javelins. What sort of enemy was this? One thing that does stand out is what appears to be tattoos or paint on the enemies' foreheads. Seeing nothing standing between the Ninth and an easy victory, Fabius gives the order for his Gallic cavalry to charge headlong into the enemy formation.
Seeing the flag that was the order to charge, the four hundred cavalry troopers spurred their horses on. Swiftly, the cavalry gains speed. Swords drawn, the Gallic riders scream and whoop as they close in on their prey. Instead of scattering in the face of the determined cavalry onslaught, the enemy formation wheeled to face those who approached. Each of the men leveled their long staffs at the oncoming cavalry. Strangely, the tips of the enemy staffs snapped open and gave off a golden light around the tip. Before the cavalrymen could consider this sight, energy bolts, different from anything the cavalrymen had ever seen before, flew towards them.
Man and animal were torn apart. Those lucky enough to have been in the lead of the cavalry charge died a quick death. Men flew through the air as legs buckled on stricken horses. The screams of man and animal carried in the breeze. In less than one minute, the Gallic cavalry was no more.
Pyramids like those known in Egypt passed overhead of the skirmish below. Beams of light similar to that which had just destroyed the Gallic cavalry flew towards the fields surrounding the Via Belgica. Each impact brought a resounding boom and left flaming trees and grass in its wake. The jarring impact of these bolts of light could easily be felt vibrating the paving stones of the road on which the Ninth stood.
From the enemy formation on the road ahead, a lone figure stepped forward. At the run, he sprinted towards the Ninth. Unexpectedly, he stopped. In the middle of the road, he set a metallic cylinder on the center of the Via Belgica. Quickly, the man with the golden tattoo on his forehead retreated to his formation.
From the cylinder on the roadway, a sight unlike any the Romans had ever seen appeared. The image of a man, fifty feet tall, appeared. Egyptian of dress, with glowing gold eyes, and a booming voice, the figure began to speak in a volume surely reserved for a God.
"I am Khepri. Bow to your God, mortals." Khepri demanded.
A wave of fear rushed over those the Ninth escorted. To the battle-hardened veterans of the Ninth, this was simply an enemy to be overcome.
"The Egyptians are a conquered people. That means their Gods stand conquered as well. I would rather slave in the afterlife of Elysium for eternity than spend one day in the chains of a God who fell before Rome's might. God though he may be, even he will bow to the Legions of Rome. Signal the Archers to open fire." Fabius Maximus ordered.
Releasing their bowstrings, two hundred archers unleashed their arrows to flight. Soaring through the air in a parabola, twelve arrows found their mark. In each case, a Jaffa fell to the roadway. Howling for battle, the legionaries beat their drawn swords on their shields, hoping to draw their enemy into battle. The Jaffa ranks began to advance forward, as arrows continued to fall among them. A moment later, a flying craft smaller than the others passed overhead. As its shadow cast over the Ninth, a metal object fell from its belly. Hitting the Via Belgica with a crack, this object erupted in a display of golden light. As this light spread, the men of the Ninth and those with them fell unconscious to the ground.
Unexplored Planet
Perseus Arm, Milky Way
Current Day
Had anyone been present to witness the event, they would have taken note of the appearance of space beyond the planet seeming to bulge while pulling away, before snapping back into place. In the wake of now normal space, a stupendous craft appeared in the distance. Dull gray, metallic in appearance, and triangular in shape; the craft was incredible in size. From corner to corner, the craft measured fully ninety miles in length.
As the immense craft ventured closer to the planet in its path, it slowed. Coming to a halt four thousand miles outside of the geosynchronous threshold, aquamarine-colored beams of light swept over vast tracks of the planet. For one full rotation of the world below, the aquamarine-colored beams coursed over every crevice of above and below water landmass. When the beams ceased, forty identically shaped triangular craft, each two miles across, unlocked from the underside of the craft they had arrived within.
Each of these craft moved to separate points around the planet, before descending into the atmosphere. Slowly, they lowered to a stopping point ten thousand feet above ground level. There, they waited. From above the large triangular mothership, three cylinder-shaped craft released. These descended to standing bodies of fresh water at different points on the planet. Lowering arrays of metallic piping, fresh water was pulled into large storage chambers aboard these cylindrical-shaped vessels. The process of water collection and delivery to the larger craft in orbit continued for twelve hours, until complete.
The next process began. From the belly of each of the forty triangular craft floating noiselessly over the landscape, dagger-shaped emitters lowered fifty feet. Lightning-like discharge surged through the emitter, as it gathered strength. For two minutes, power levels in each emitter climbed steadily. As one, the forty triangular craft discharged their emitters together. In each case, blinding beams of energy raced towards the ground below.
On impact, the beams tore deep craters into the planet. From these craters raced shockwaves through the soil strata in all directions. To a depth of five hundred feet, in a diameter of one hundred miles, the crust of the planet tore apart. Shockwaves cursed through the soil, toppling hills and mountains alike. Planet life ripped free of the ground fell in heaps. Tilled soil was left in each beam strike's wake.
In space, another large triangular craft similar to the first arrived. Ejecting forty smaller craft of its own, these craft joined those tearing the planet's surface apart. These hovered above the impact sites, and disgorged hundreds of ground vehicles each. Immediately, these began to churn through the dislodged soil, extracting metals and minerals in large quantities.
Though the process was far from complete, this world was already dead. Never would this world bear life. As had many worlds before, this world too had perished while offering up its treasures. In the coming week, every useable resource of this world would be collected, for removal to another location. In the wake of the triangular craft, all that would remain would be a hellish field of destruction. Yet another world in the Perseus Arm had fallen.