The Alba Longa

Gallus sat in a holding cell with Donald, his mind deep in thought. His options seemed dire; he would either bake to death on Mercury or take a railgun blast through the chest from a Bardian raider. Donald's normal jovial demeanor was still muted, and he seemed just as lost in his musings as Gallus was.

Donald eventually sighed and threw up his hands. "Fine. Fuck it. I'll die for the stellar guard. Better to die as a soldier than a slave. And at least I won't end my tour middle-aged. Even though I'll probably be dead way before my time's up." He turned to Gallus, staring at him with deep blue eyes. "What's your move, friend?"

Gallus remained silent for a moment, hoping to deny reality a bit longer. Donald nudged him gently. "You know you can't stay here forever. You need to choose." Gallus exhaled painfully. His voice choked, but he responded. "I think I'll look good in red." Gallus said, referencing the crimson uniforms of the Stellar Guard.

Donald forced out a small chuckle, shaking his head slowly. "Maybe they were right about you Gallus." He said softly. "You might be insane after all." Before Gallus could respond to that, the voice of a police officer called out to them. "Time to submit your decisions and say your goodbyes." He said sternly, approaching the cell door.

"I'll join the guard." Donald said simply. Gallus nodded. "Me as well." The guard laughed. "Figures. Judge didn't give you much of a choice, did he? Is there anyone you two need to say goodbye to before we send you off?" "No." Gallus said, choking on the word. Donald turned to him in shock. "Don't you want to say goodbye to Rachel?" "I do." Gallus said softly. "But I don't think I could take it. It's better this way. She's going to need to forget about me."

Donald shook his head angrily. "That's insane. What if you come back?" Gallus laughed, but his laughter was tinged with deep pain. "She deserves a fresh start at happiness. Waiting half a decade for a dead man isn't what she needs." Gallus turned to Donald, his gaze sharp. "What about you. anyone you want to see before we go?"

"Yes." Donald said flatly. "But I'm not going to see anyone either." Gallus opened his mouth to speak, but Donald cut him off. "Same reason as you. It'll just hurt. It won't change anything. You and I are most likely never coming back here, and it's best to cut our ties now." The guard coughed, as if to remind them that he was very much still in the room, and they both turned their attention back to him.

"Alright." The guard said. "Let's get you down to the recruitment center. They'll know what to do with you." Donald and Gallus were put back into cuffs and led into a police transport pod. Police transport pods were large circular pods, with seats for both police officers and criminals. They also had the ability to switch pod rails to avoid traffic or pursue someone in transit.

Gallus sighed and leaned his head against the wide clear wall of the pod as it accelerated. After a few minutes it zoomed past the city suburbs and into and underground tunnel. These tunnels were extremely low pressure, and the pod picked up more and more speed, eventually moving as fast as 600 kilometers an hour.

They spent a half hour in silence, moving in this dark underground tunnel, devoid of air and light. The supplemental air system kicked on, bathing them in what felt like a mild breeze. The pod was recycling the air inside the pod and scrubbing out the CO2 and reinfusing it with oxygen. This need for environmental control made trips through the tunnels costly, and Gallus rarely used them on his own time.

With the outside scenery gone, Gallus felt himself grow tired and introspective. The weeks of waiting and worrying about the trial had taken a lot out of him, and he lacked the energy for a fresh bout of fear. He almost felt resigned to his fate, as miserable as it felt. He felt a heavy pang of guilt for not saying goodbye to Rachel, but reassured himself that it was for the best. Neither of them could take any more pain.

In time, the pod emerged from the dark underground, and Gallus felt his eyes burn as the dim internal lights of the pod's interior were replaced by the full force of the sun. The sun didn't shine so brightly on Mars, as its atmosphere was thicker than Earth's supplemented with water vapor and inert gas to cause a greenhouse effect.

It was still much stronger than the subterranean lighting he had been exposed to though, and he winced in pain as his eyes adjusted. They must have travelled a good bit north, as the grasslands and light forests of New Brooklyn's region were gone. They were replaced by an arid steppe, lined with hills. Rolling mounds of dusty soil stretched out to the horizon, dotted with patches of waving grass.

In the distance, Gallus could make out the sprawling military complex they were approaching. It looked like a small city of ceramic walls and guard towers. It was half way between a prison and a fortress, and stood out starkly when compared to the barren landscape around it. This was the Alba Longa, the main Solar military encampment on Mars. Gallus had seen pictures of it, but approaching in person was something else entirely.

They circled around it, and plunged back underground for a minute or two. They emerged into a huge unloading area, where eight pod lanes ferried prisoners, soldiers, and personnel into and out of the grand complex. The two police officers nudged them out of the pod as soon as they stopped, the pod racing back out as soon as they left it.

The unloading area was insane. People ran across the tracks, practically jumping out of the way of incoming pods. It was worse than any air or spaceport Gallus had ever seen, on Earth or on Mars. The officers quickly turned them towards the large gated section for new arrivals, and they walked across the remaining tracks as quickly as they could in handcuffs.

About halfway to the arrival gate, a few men approached in the crimson red of the guard. They wore tall black boots, and long tunics, padded with ceramic plating. Rust covered bands across their arms showed that the uniforms were Martian, and the semi-circles on their lapels indicated their respective rankings. They didn't wear helmets, but donned darkened visors, so neither prisoner could see their eyes.

"Fresh meat?" One asked simply, gesturing towards Donald and Gallus. The officer holding Gallus nodded. "Indeed, straight from New Brooklyn." The guardsman frowned. "New Brooklyn dandies, huh?" He said, sizing them up. "Well, we need all the cannon fodder we can get. We'll take them from here gentlemen." The police and the guard shared a quick salute, and the guardsmen pushed them from behind, leading them into the bowels of Alba Longa.