Chapter 3: Storm
-The Ace-
Odysseus Airbase, Vladivostok.
The narrow space in the cockpit was jam-packed with electronics, data gatherers, sensors and controls. A helmet with an oxygen mask and integrated HUD was fitted over his unruly onyx hair and brown eyes. The air was controlled by Nico D'Angelo. Sleepless eyes with heavy dark bags didn't impair his fighting capabilities in any way. He trailed his target: an inferior Nicholaz fighter of the Russian Nationalists front. He fired his machine guns, suppressing any counter-actions that the enemy could come up with. Keeping him preoccupied. His aim-locking sensors slowly locked onto his target. He fired his first heat-seeking missile.
Expectedly, the pilot launched flares, rendering Nico's missile useless. Nico veered his jet upwards, breaking through the clouds soon enough. Once he was above the clouds, he lowered his jet, racing towards the ground. His plane hummed with energy, something that wasn't felt in any way by the pilot. He wasn't humming with energy, he wasn't filled to the brink with adrenaline from the fight. He was just looking to defeat another enemy so that he could land and go for lunch.
There.
He spotted his enemy, flying at cruising speed. A shape within the sun, the enemy pilot was impaired in his visual fighting capabilities. Nico opened fire, his 40mm cannons tearing through the aluminium in the chassis of the enemy fighter plane. The jet exploded in a shower of fireworks, debris raining down to the ground. Nico felt a soul sniffed out, and enter the underworld.
Nico took a deep breath. He stabilised his jet and set the auto-pilot on. Opening his notebook stashed within a pouch on his vest, he scratched another line, adding to the fifty already present. He turned his plane around, making for Vladivostok Air Base.
On his way back to the airfield, he felt his thoughts drift into memories
"I'm sorry, son.". Those words rang out clear as yesterday. The day his father and mother abandoned him to the orphanage of Epirus. They had always been poor, and their family simply had no way to afford him, they justified. His new caretaker from the orphanage guided him towards the dull brick building, fake sweetness dripping from her voice.
It didn't take him very long to be shunned by the inhabitants. The orphans, those who were so much like him in uncountable ways, shunned him. The caretakers, who were supposed to make life bearable for people like him, shunned him. He felt so alone. So, so alone. Hopelessness plagued him on sleepless nights.
He was eventually adopted, at the age of ten, by the small and sweet Solace family. They had a son around the same age as him, Will. His cold demeanour developed over years of mental abuse cracked in the face of his cheerful character. They would play and interact with each other for countless hours every day. They started going to school together, scoring high grades and girls alike. Double dates and girlfriends became a common trait in their teenage years. His new family integrated him into their family. And eventually, his younger, turbulent years were pushed to the edge of his mind and memories.
The ground was shaken by a deadly explosion. The shockwave sent Nico sprawling to the ground, multiple scratches and cuts adorning his pale skin. His head rang, deafening his hearing and shaking his senses. He got up to his knees and saw people running about in pandemonium. Closely, he saw his family lying on the ground, unmoving. He got up, mindless thoughts addling his mind. He crawled over. His parents were lying on the ground, unmoving. Lifeless eyes showed that they were dead. Nico felt a tug in his stomach. He looked for Will.
There. Several metres away from his parents, away from the blast. He was bleeding from his head, and unconscious. Nico fished out his smartphone from his pocket, the screen was cracked, but still functioned properly. Wiping the debris away from the screen, he called an ambulance.
Everything afterwards was a blur. He faintly remembered the paramedics hoisting Will onto a stretcher and into the ambulance. He saw his adoptive parents wrapped in a black body bag, emergency workers closing their eyes and placing a golden drachma under their tongues. The ambulance sped along the highway, heading for the nearest hospital. He remembered Will's pulse flat-lining. And the paramedics performing CPR. He remembered the moment when they gave up and gave him their condolences. Absent-mindedly, he pulled out a golden drachma from his wallet, placed it under his tongue, and kissed his forehead goodbye. A minute later, they were at the hospital.
He didn't sleep that night. He couldn't. He lay awake on his bed in the Solace house, the TV in his house turned to the news feed on the bombing. He had the house to himself until Solace's relatives come to fight over it. He estimated that he had about three weeks. He cried himself to sleep that night. I'm an orphan again.
Three weeks passed in a blur. He broke up with his girlfriend, Marissa. He had learnt of the terrorist organisation responsible: The Liberators, with ties and funding from the Roman Empire and a goal to liberate Greek territories. It's hypocritical, considering how the Greek's colonies still had autonomy in its member states while the Romans annexed theirs directly. He had packed his belongings into two bags. Stuffing clothes and memoirs of his family and what could have been his family. He headed to the nearest enlistment centre.
His soul burned with revenge for his adoptive family. His high grades and near perfect eyesight allowed him to become part of Epirus' Air Force. Within a year of training, he was given his wings, and a year after, he became a fighter ace.
By the time his thoughts drifted back to the mission at hand, he was sitting in his cockpit, staring into space. He was on the ground again, and ground crews were already tending to his lightly damaged aircraft.
"Another one?" Marcus, the engineer asked, opening his cockpit.
Nico sighed, "yeah", stepping out of the cockpit.
Marcus nodded in understanding. "Boss is looking for you in the control tower, by the way."
Nico heaved a sigh. Another session of Antonius chewing him out for crowding the runway. He jogged to the control tower, a squat building four stories high. It housed the majority of the air base's electronic equipment, and were tasked with guiding pilots and commanding the air base's defences. He ran up the stairs running adjacent to the side of the building, two at a time. He opened the door, where air major Antonius Clytia was waiting, standing with his hands behind his back.
"Sir." He said, attaining the attention of the major. He raised his hands into a salute as the major turned towards him. He gave the obligatory salute, and Nico lowered his hand.
The major studied him, and said: "we'll talk in the office." Gesturing to the personnel sitting behind him.
Vladivostok airbase was not a large airfield. They operated two landing strips of about three thousand metres, one for landing and one for taking off. It houses two squadrons of Aelous fighter jets. Mainly used as an airfield for an escort from the heavier bombers flying from Tokyo, the air base didn't need to maintain a large contingent of aeroplanes. It also housed three hundred support crews and a hundred auxiliary defence personnel, mainly to defend against incursions from rogue forces near the airfield, holding out important structures before ground forces could be sent from the nearby Vladivostok military base, which housed two divisions of infantry and an armoured regiment.
Nico trailed five paces behind the major, careful not to intrude into the major's private space. Upon entering the Major's rather sparse office, he closed the door, glancing at the major take a seat on a cushioned chair, placing a large folder on his desk.
"Sit" he commanded.
Nico did as told, trying to make himself as comfortable as possible without looking disrespectful.
"Graduated top of the class of 2015. Experience in the Moscow front, Montreal, India and over the Hawaiian islands. Over fifty confirmed kills. Disturbing personal background, psychological issues and flying skills on the level of Hector, all at the age of eighteen and with two years of warfare experience." Major Antonius summed up, closing the file.
Nico sat unmovingly. He hated when people dabbled into his personal history. It said too much about him, and who he was. His face betrayed no emotions.
"You're being transferred. Greece needs you more than I do, Lieutenant D'Angelo. Your squadron is being posted to Epirus Air Field
-The Diplomat-
Athens
Annabeth's head was in turmoil. Her mind still on the events that took place two days ago. Even now, in her spacious office in The Acropolis in Athens. She stared blankly into the paintings adorning her white-walled office. Beautiful, less known art pieces from various artists such as Van Gogh and Henry Matisse. Annabeth was able to maintain an otherwise expensive art collection through her ingenious use of connections and determination for inspiration in her office. Her eyes were set on "The bombing of Guernica" by Picasso, which was based on the uprising of the people of the Iberian population, who were brutally put down by the legions of Rome, committing war atrocities that would be condemned by the Greeks.
Her secretary, Malcolm, looked at her in concern.
"Can't shake it, huh?" He inquired.
Annabeth just nodded her head. The Romans backing out of the talks and not communicating with them increased her anxiety. She could feel the tensions between their two sovereign states building up again.
Her buzzer rang, and Malcolm picked it up. She observed her secretary and noted his otherwise neutral facial expression turn grim. He put down the phone: " There's an immediate session for all Representatives starting in thirty minutes. I suggest you make your way down."
Annabeth's mind raced with apprehension. And yet, in the back of her brilliant mind, she could imagine what it would be about. She gathered her necessary items. Notepad, stationary, smartphone and thoughts and ideas. She made her way to the Court of representatives. She opened the engraved, heavy double doors leading to the grand room that is the Court of Representatives. The court itself formed a semi-circle, with a podium at the centre with a large screen behind it. It was equipped with a microphone attached to the podium stand and a large screen necessary for presentations to brief all relevant members of the Greek states.
The hall was already half filled with representatives. From all of the core Greek states and its allies, as well as its satellite states which had a place and a say in Greek politics. In total, there were about a hundred seats in the hall.
Previously, when the Greek states were disjointed and independent, they could hold literal democracy within the large amphitheatre within its city. All citizens were invited and they could all vote on important matters within the state. However, with the coalition forming, it would become impossible for this to occur as no one amphitheatre could hold all the citizens of the Greek states, given its large size and larger population. Now, individual city-states would elect Ten representatives into the Court of Representatives. Each representative would represent a certain demographic from the state. As a result, the Court had to be able to hold over a thousand representatives, who would meet and vote on important issues regarding what the Greek states should achieve.
Before she could reach her designated seat at the middle left of the hall, she was approached by a fuming Agatha Leonidas. Hot-headed and eager for war and the most prominent senator hailing from Sparta. He regarded her with disdain, and Annabeth's every instinct was to shrink in fear from the oddly unpredictable man.
"I heard you were the reason the Romans walked out of the meeting." He remarked.
Annabeth's first reaction was to retort. That she wasn't the one that caused the Romans to retire from the meetings impromptu. But she knew she could have influenced that decision with her rebellious attitude and by speaking out of turn from her more experienced colleagues. However, it seemed unlikely that they would forsake relations and all forms of diplomacy for the sake of a young representative who spoke out of line.
"We shall see what the Romans are up to. And if this precarious situation does result in war. We will know who is to blame when Spartan soldiers die on the battlefield." Leonidas remarked before walking to take his seat at the front of the hall.
As if on cue, Odysseus Diodes, chairperson of the court, banged a gavel on a flat wooden surface to create a loud noise. "If everyone would take their seats, this court is now in session." Annabeth took her seat, next to Ireneus Draco, a hardline conservative twenty years her senior. Ireneus gave her a cold look but said nothing. Fucking hell. Annabeth thought while taking out her notepad. It seems like everyone has something against me now. "This court is now in session. While it is in session, representatives of each state, protectorate or ally of the United Greek City States may raise any issue, disputes, claims or interests to the United Greek States. This claim, or otherwise, must be backed with sufficient evidence and a suitable explanation to back your stance."
The first issue that came forth was from the fifth representative of the protectorate of Los Angeles. A promising young woman called Katie Gardner who brought up an issue with the inefficient distribution of food in her state. She called for increased funding into distribution methods and technological advancements to mitigate this problem. It was accepted as a basis of an argument and proceeded to the voting floor, which is always held three days after a general assembly.
The next speaker was General Miltiades of Athens. A competent and highly respected general within the Greek states. Annabeth immediately noted his grim expression and slightly pale complexion. He started off with a greeting," Good afternoon, representatives." A chorus, which Annabeth didn't join, answered.
He cleared his throat, organised his notes, all in the deafening silence and apprehension from the court. "I've risen to the podium today, to discuss a very serious threat." He clicked on the first slide. I showed a grainy, photo taken from one of the Epirus spy-planes "Hades". "This, albeit grainy photo, shows us clearly that the ballistic missile silos located deep within the Roman territories of Neapolis on the Roman peninsula, Alexandria in Egypt, Munich in Germany, Oslo in Norway and New York in the New World. These silos, as you would know, have been recommissioned within these last few weeks. Our intelligence units claim that they will have to undergo multiple repairs before they can be used feasibly again, but it is in progress.
Miltiades continued onto the next slide. "This is the amount of money spent by the Roman Empire this past year. A figure of 50 trillion drachmas, or roughly 63.3 trillion Aureus, in conversion to Roman currency." Next slide. "Within this stagnating GDP growth of roughly 1.13%, Rome has increased spending on its military, going from roughly six trillion Aureus to a high number of seven and a half trillion Aureus, a striking twenty-five per cent increase. Second highest in this century since the reign of Emperor Nero.
Gasps of disbelief were heard throughout the Court. Emperor Nero had widely been considered to be one of the worst and cruellest emperors throughout Rome's history, far surpassing his namesake from Ancient Rome. He had largely been responsible for the last war in the late 1930s and had been the bane for Rome's highly paced industrialisation process that was occurring throughout the country at the time. Causing a stagnation in its economy as resources and manpower had to be pumped into branches of the military. Seven years later and with hundreds of millions dead, Rome ended the war with the Greeks in a white peace. Territories largely remained unchanged, with the only changes being that Greece had gained a large foothold in the New World with them acquiring the highly industrialised and popularised east coast.
Next slide. It showed a tactical map of Roman and Greek divisions, with Greek divisions highlighted by their iconic letter Omega, and the Roman's with an SPQR insignia. "The Romans have increased their presence in multiple border fronts and could be observed to bring in more armour and artillery divisions and regiments. Both of which are highly suited for an offensive war. This is in line with their increased economic spending as I have mentioned earlier."
The projector shut off, and General Miltiades continued, with a grim expression," I am afraid, representatives, so, very afraid. Because it seems like the Roman war machine has started again. And I am afraid, that this time, we will be caught off guard. Ladies and gentlemen, from the Greek archipelago to the Islands of Japan, from the old world to the new, we must prepare for war, once more."
Author's note: So, I guess this wraps this chapter. As always, thank you for viewing my story, and feel free to give your opinion in reviews, I will try to address them in the subsequent chapters.
SpartanBoy: not gonna happen, I feel that the "Percy the admiral" story arc has been overused in many different "mortals-only" storylines. In the previous chapter, Perseus A.K.A Percy killed the Emperor, and it would be pretty hard to tie those two knots together.
I kinda see the situation between the Greeks and Romans as the situation in the mid-30s between France and Germany. France became complacent from their victory in WW1. Obviously, I'm generalising about a lot of things, but that's just how I saw it, and why they surrendered within 6 weeks of the French Campaign. Greece is kinda like that, and the Romans, like Nazi Germany, spent large sums of money on war, both war equipment and manpower, and are looking for revenge for the past. (Treaty of Versailles for Germany, and the death of their emperor in this story)
Next chapter will probably be out within the end of the month. With all that said and out of the way. Thank you all once again, and see you soon!
-Ninjabuddhism.
Historical references:
Hector: The Hero, and prince, of Troy in their war against the Greeks, with fighting skills to match Achilles, the Greek's equivalent. It is implied in this story that he was the best fighter pilot before Nico.
Miltiades: The Athenian general responsible for the Greek victory against the Persians in the Battle of Marathon, where he and roughly 11,000 Greeks counter attacked the larger 30,000 Persians on the beaches of Attica, when they were unloading supplies to supplement their invasion of Greece.
"The Bombing of Guernica" by Pablo Picasso: A art piece inspired by the Spanish Civil War where the Germans bombed the town of Guernica extensively, killing vast numbers of civilians with the new air force. In this context, it will be applied to the previous war the Greeks fought against the Romans.
Agatha Leonidas: Reference to the Spartan King Leonidas. Best known for his stand in the pass of Thermopylae against the much more numerous Persian army. He and his army of 300 Spartans held the pass for 3 days, using the near-invincible Phalanx formation, and unwavering Spartan discipline. The force of 300 Spartans and 7000 Greeks were defeated when they were betrayed by Ephialtes, a local.
Odysseus: A famous Greek hero, and battle tactician. The tales of Odysseus by Greek Philosopher Homer was based on this hero. He participated in the war between Greece and Troy on the side of the Greeks, and the use of the Trojan horse was said to be his idea.
