The Final Moments of Decanus Varus

Decanus Aquila Varus Quintus was not dying. That’s what the legionnaires around him kept saying, and he was starting to believe them. They told him he had only mistaken all that blood for his own and that he wasn’t really hurt all that badly. Slowly, Quintus stood up from where the legionnaires had dragged him, and, for the first time since the shooting began, Quintus looked at the faces surrounding him. There were only two legionnaires with him, and while he recognized them, he did not know their names. They were both from Decanus Numerius’s squad. Quintus started to move forward when he suddenly felt dizzy. He tried to steady himself on the nearest legionnaire. He was too slow.

The legionnaire reached down to help him up, and that’s when the pain hit him. The pain was familiar to Quintus, he had been shot before, but probably not so many times. Not at once. As the legionnaires hauled him up, Quintus realized it was his own fault. Before setting out, the centurion had quietly warned all the decani that morning to be wary of the synth units. Quintus didn’t think much of it at the time. It wasn’t until they were on patrol that the synths actually started behaving strangely. Just whispers and odd gestures at first, but then, in a once quiet moment, gunfire filled the air. Quintus was one of the first hit, and the legionnaires that were now practically carrying him had quickly dragged him away from the fighting. He wasn’t sure where they were now.

Neither were the legionnaires, apparently, as they started bickering about which street to take next. Quintus was about to scold them when he started coughing and spitting up blood. Eventually, they picked a path. Why was he the one to get shot first? Why not someone else? The legionnaires of his own squad needed him and he couldn’t do anything to help. In his head, his father scolded him for not becoming an officer, as if that would’ve prevented him from being shot. “Scions of House Aquila must lead,” the Legate Varus told him, “not fight amongst synths and raw recruits.”

But obviously his father had never said that. The late Legate Varus died 10 years ago on Hong Lu in a rebellion, years before Quintus had even decided to serve in the legions. No, he was alone. He would most likely die, surrounded by strangers, after being betrayed by his synth comrades. There was nothing he could do about it.

One of the legionnaires shook him to get his attention. He had zoned out, they told him. They started talking about how close the base was, and how he would be with the medics soon. Quintus didn’t really believe they were all that close to the base at first, but not long after, he saw the electric fence surrounding the base complex. They had made it back, he would make it.

As the medics came with a stretcher, Quintus tried to compose himself as best he could. He thought over everything that had happened, and he started planning everything he would put in his report. There would be more than just one report after this. There would be debriefings, hearings, and plenty of visits from the base’s quaestionarius, which gave Quintus shivers. He hated the Quaestionarius Corps. He didn’t understand them at all. They were supposed to be morale officers, but they were far too secretive and always digging around for dirt.

In any case, as the medics were rolling him through the doors of the base hospital, Quintus breathed a sigh of relief. He had made a mistake, and it probably cost his squad their lives. But he would live, and when he got the chance, he would find a way to make it up to his dead comrades. At least, that’s what he thought right before the hospital exploded.