Almost immediately, David saw motion in the citadel and the ring beyond. Troops pounded the ground, the inner gate opened, and trucks rushed through it. The Berbers pressed the attack and the battle grew more intense.
“Command, Tower One. Tower Two is down, repeat Tower Two is down.”
“Copy, Tower One,” one of David’s men said. “We’re aware. Reinforcements are inbound.”
Almost a minute after David’s order, the area below the wall was filled with Immari soldiers, almost four thousand of them. This was the moment David had planned, their one opportunity to take the base. His hands shook slightly, and in that moment, he wondered if he could do it. What if he couldn’t? There was no turning back now.
The technicians looked back at him, each knowing what came next. Finally, one man quietly said, “Awaiting your order, sir.”
Mass murder. The death of four thousand men—soldiers. Enemy soldiers. Monsters, David told himself. But they couldn’t all be monsters. Just people on the other side of this fight, people who had been unlucky enough, whose circumstance had made them his enemy.
All David had to do was say the words. The tech would push the buttons, the mines below the wall would arm, the improvised explosives would detonate, and hell would break loose. Thousands of soldiers—people—would die.
“There will be no order,” David said.
Shock spread across the men’s faces, except for Kamau. His face was a mask that betrayed no emotion.
David stepped forward, to the primary technician’s station. “Show me the buttons to press.” This was his burden to bear; he alone should and would shoulder the responsibility. The man showed him the sequence of commands, and David memorized them. He entered the codes and the ring below the wall exploded into a sea of carnage. Blood seemed to pool like a moat. The radio erupted in calls and one of the techs instantly turned it down.
David activated his radio. “Ajax, Achilles. Outer wall is breached. Crack open the horse.”
“Copy, Achilles,” the soldier answered.
The screens flashed to the confinement wings. Three of David’s soldiers raced through, opening the cells, freeing the captured Berbers, arming them. The fight for the citadel and for Ceuta began now.
“Open the gate,” David said. “And make the call.”
He slumped into the “captain’s chair” and waited. The tech called over his shoulder. “You’re on.”
“Immari Fleet Alpha, this is Ceuta Command. We are under attack. Repeat, we are under attack. Our outer wall has been breached. Request immediate air support.”
“Copy, Ceuta Command. Stand by.”
David waited for the words. Sloane was in that fleet, and David knew him—he would command the air assault himself. For all his faults, Sloane led from the front.
“Ceuta Command, Fleet Alpha. Be advised: we’re scrambling air support now. ETA fifteen minutes.”
“Copy, Fleet Alpha. ETA fifteen minutes. Ceuta Command out.”
When he was sure the channel was closed, he issued his final orders to the techs. “I want you to wait until they’re deep in our firing range. Don’t take any chances.”
“Even if they fire—”
“Even if they fire everything they’ve got. Wait. And don’t position the rail guns until you’re ready to fire. Someone on the ground could warn them. You take those helicopters down, and we could change the course of history.” He walked over to join Kamau at the door. “It’s been an honor, gentlemen. Now we’re going to buy you some time.”
David reached for the door, but a tech called out. “Sir, we’ve got incoming—”
“Air?”
“A plague barge. It’s a little over a mile out. Inbound from Marbella. They just sent us their docking request and manifest.”
David spun to face Kamau. “How could we not know about this?”
He shook his head. “The ships come and go as they please, there’s no schedule. They can wait in the harbor to dock for days, so it doesn’t matter.” He crossed the room and punched the keyboard. The manifest scrolled across the large screen.
David looked around the room. “What’s onboard? Weapons capabilities? And for that matter, what the hell is a plague barge?”
Kamau spoke as he worked the computer. “This one’s an old cruise ship. Weapons are minimal: two fifty-four-caliber guns on each end. But… they’re carrying all the excess troops from the invasion of several cities in southern Spain.” He stood. “Almost ten thousand troops—plus new recruits, those that took the Immari pledge. Who knows how many. There could be twenty thousand enemy combatants on board. There would have been devolving on board, but this close to Ceuta… they’ve already been offloaded.”
David rubbed his forehead. “How long ’til it gets here?”
“Five, ten minutes.”
There was no choice. Twenty thousand troops, pouring in from the harbor, reinforcing the citadel from the rear. “Hit it,” David said. “Whatever it takes. Sink her.” He grabbed his gun and raced out the door, and Kamau followed close behind him.
When the shots were fired from the rail guns along the harbor—at an Immari ship—the remaining Immari troops in the citadel would know they had been betrayed. The final battle for Ceuta would start in seconds.
As David and Kamau reached the bottom of the landing, they saw shots launch from the batteries along the harbor. The towering cruise ship exploded, then buckled and burned, floating listlessly like a funeral pyre.
Kosta burst into the room, but this time, he didn’t retreat at the sight of Dorian and the woman laying there naked. “Sir, Ceuta is under attack. They’ve requested air support.”
Dorian was up, dressed, and out of the room before the woman even woke up.
CHAPTER 52
Immari Advance Fleet Alpha
Near Tangier, Morocco
Dorian marched down the cramped corridor. The hatch stood open, revealing the darkened deck. Four helicopters purred on the launch pad. Soldiers stood beside them, waiting for him, ready to fly into battle.
For the first time since he had awoken in that tube in Antarctica, he felt normal. He felt like himself. A soldier going to war. He felt at home.
Sailors poked their heads out of the intersecting passageways, hoping to get a glimpse of him—the chairman of the last empire humanity would ever see, the man who had died and arisen, someone more than mortal—a God or the Devil.