Mars calls

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April, 2276, and everything was going according to plan. Today marked the first harvest, the culmination of six months of nonstop labor. The crops, cultivated in the fertile soil now under my control, had thrived without issue. The climate, unusually stable, remained warm and consistent throughout the year, which worked in my favor. This stable climate was likely a consequence of the ecological chaos left behind by the bombs.

Seeing the slaves working in the fields, harvesting the fruits of their endless efforts, filled me with a satisfaction that words couldn't express. It was the first of many harvests, and although the irradiated soil of the past had once been a curse for those living here, now, thanks to Diana's work and the G.E.C.K. I had activated, the land was fertile and free from contamination.

As the sacks of harvested crops piled up, I began visualizing the next step. This harvest would not only feed the Legion's troops but also secure me a steady source of income. I already had contacts with merchants in Phoenix and Flagstaff, eager to buy non-irradiated food. With this first large-scale production, the contracts would be secured, and my pockets fuller than ever.

Lettuce, carrots, and broccoli made up most of this initial harvest. I had decided to follow an agricultural calendar similar to the one the United States had used before the bombs. This would allow me to manage the land efficiently and maximize yields. Once this harvest was complete, the fields would be prepared for the more important crops: wheat and corn. These would be essential, not only for basic sustenance but also for expanding mass food production.

The next step was to ensure that all the prepared land was ready for the upcoming planting season. The slaves, under the direction of my overseers, worked tirelessly, using mechanical seeders and electric tractors that sped up the process. With the current harvest secured and the future looking bright, every piece of fertile land would be utilized to its fullest, transforming this region into the granary of the Legion.

With this new phase, I unleashed a surge in labor expenses, something I had kept in balance for a while thanks to the food production from the hydroponic farms and greenhouses. The balance between what I produced and what my slaves and residents consumed had been perfect, but now, with the first large-scale harvest and the land ready for more planting, my vision expanded. The gold I had accumulated in recent months allowed me to start buying more slaves again, increasing the region's population and, in turn, its productive capacity.

Each new purchase of slaves meant more hands in the fields, more workers in the factories, and more fertile land being cultivated. Exponential growth was inevitable. The plan was clear: populate these lands until they became the agricultural heart of the Legion, a place that would not only feed the troops but also supply the markets of allied cities. The more cultivated land, the greater my income, consolidating my position not only as a centurion but also as one of the Legion's principal resource providers.

I was able to afford all of this because my gamble with the Legion had finally paid off. Selling them automatic rifles at rock-bottom prices, even lower than bolt-action rifles, had been a risky move, but it turned out to be a smart one. Not only did I make massive profits from the sale of weapons, but with the increased use of automatic rifles, the demand for ammunition skyrocketed, both in training and in battle.

Each shot, every emptied magazine, was another opportunity to keep my pockets full. The more these weapons spread, the higher the demand for ammunition. I knew the Legionnaires would need a constant and growing supply, and I was more than ready to provide. The real profit was in the bullets. After every battle, the need for resupply was immediate, and I was the only source capable of meeting those demands.

"What are you doing, working with them?" Andrea asked, helping me assemble a power armor exoskeleton.

"Working with them?" I repeated, without taking my eyes off the servos I was adjusting on the armor. "What do you mean, Andrea?"

"I mean the Legion," she said, her tone accusatory as she held a component of the exoskeleton. "You're not a tribal… not even close. You have knowledge that rivals the brightest minds in the Brotherhood, yet you work for those bloodthirsty killers."

I stopped for a moment, sighed, then looked at her directly. "Andrea, survival is all that matters here. The Legion may be brutal, sure, but they offer me something the Brotherhood or any other group couldn't—autonomy, unlimited resources, and slaves to build my cities and fertile lands. Everything I need to advance my plans. Do you think if I weren't with them, I'd have the freedom I have now?"

"At what cost?" she countered, setting the component aside. "You're helping them strengthen their power, oppressing and enslaving more people. With your knowledge, you could do something much bigger, something fairer."

"Justice," I muttered, returning to the work on the armor. "Andrea, justice is a luxury I can't afford. My goal is to survive and thrive, and that means playing the game in front of me. If that means arming the Legion to stay afloat, then that's what I'll do. Maybe one day that will change… but for now, this is the world we live in."

Andrea looked at me with a mix of desperation and hope, as if her words could somehow change the course of my life.

"Fly to Lost Hills," she insisted. "One of the key Brotherhood bases is there. Your ability to understand and improve power armor could change the tide of our fight against the New California Republic. It's not too late."

"And what happens after that, Andrea?" I finally asked, as I adjusted the last piece of the exoskeleton. "Suppose I drop everything and fly to Lost Hills. What awaits me there? Another endless war over technology, another fight between factions that can't see beyond their own power?"

She frowned, stepping closer to me. "The Brotherhood fights to preserve what remains of the world before the bombs, to protect knowledge and keep it from falling into the hands of the ignorant."

"I know," I replied, leaning against the armor I was assembling. "But the Brotherhood is so obsessed with the past that they can't see the present. Here, with the Legion, I have control. I can build something. Not just survive, but thrive. If I join you, I lose that freedom. I'll just be another tool."

Andrea sighed, disappointed but not surprised. "You could be so much more than that."

"Maybe," I admitted, "but here, I'm too important a cog in the machine."

Silence settled between us. I knew she wouldn't stop trying to convince me, but my decision was made.

"Alright, stop frowning and help me fit these plates. I managed to make sure the grenade feeder system doesn't interfere with the exoskeleton servos," I said while adjusting the components.

"I can see that," she replied with a slight smile, though there was still a hint of frustration. "I'll give you credit for that—it's not easy synchronizing a system this complex without overloading it."

"It is overloaded, Andrea," I commented while making final adjustments. "The armor doesn't have the same autonomy as a standard T-51B. I'm modifying it to run for at least four hours, during which its killing capacity should be devastating. This idea came to me after almost dying to a Sentry Bot. Equipping one of these suits with a grenade backpack and having the servo arms function as grenade launchers will be extremely effective against large groups of enemies."

Andrea stared at me, processing what I had just said. "A short-term killing machine? That sounds... excessive, even for the Legion."

"Excessive, maybe. But lethally efficient," I replied with a grin. "Imagine the chaos it could cause in battle. Not only would it be a weapon of mass destruction on the field, but also a symbol of terror for our enemies. Facing this means you're prepared to die."

"And how do you control such a beast in the midst of chaos? If the system fails or goes haywire, it could be just as dangerous to your own men as to the enemy."

"I know," I responded calmly. "That's why we're here, adjusting every little detail. I need this to function as an extension of the user's body, with no room for error. It can't fail, especially when the battle is at its peak."

This new armor needed to complete the set of models I had been working on. With four suits equipped with flamethrowers, I already had a perfect unit for close combat. Now, all that was missing was a demolition model—something that could break through fortifications and cause massive destruction. The idea of an armor connected to a backpack filled with hundreds of grenades, much like a Sentry Bot's arm, kept circling in my mind. Such armor, capable of continuously launching grenades, would cause absolute chaos in any enemy formation or structure.

"Centurion," one of my legionaries said, entering with determination, though his tone reflected unusual urgency.

"What's the situation, legionary?" I asked, without taking my eyes off the servos I was adjusting.

"Legate Lanius has called for your cohort to return to the frontlines."

I paused for a moment, taking in his words before asking, "Why? Lanius said the campaign would be paused for a year."

"We received a radio alert, centurion. The frumentarii have observed movements among the Hangdogs. They're mobilizing and preparing for an incursion into Legion territory. That's why the Legate is calling us back. He wants to honor Mars with the massacre of our enemies," the legionary reported gravely.

I stood silent, processing the sudden shift. War waited for no one, and while I had hoped for more time to prepare my men and their new armor, the reality was that battle could call when least expected.

"So, Mars demands blood sooner than expected..." I muttered. Finally, I set the armor aside and stood, facing the legionary. "Notify the decanii. I want everyone ready in less than an hour. Load the heavy equipment onto the motorized wagons, and the rest of the cohort should prepare to march."

Andrea, who had been working with me on the power armor, watched quietly, her face tense. "You haven't finished equipping everyone with the new armor yet... Are you really sending them out like this, without complete gear?"

"Ha, ha, did you forget how the Legion fights?" I replied to Andrea, a smirk on my face. "A machete and devotion to Mars are enough for most legionaries, but mine... mine are better equipped than any other cohort. We'll be fine."

As I left the tent, I saw how the legionaries were already mobilizing. Motorized wagons were loaded with weapons and provisions, while my decanii gathered the men for the upcoming battle. The energy in the air was palpable, as it always was before an important fight. There was tension, but also determination.

I approached the legionary in charge of the vehicles. "I want the mortar and machine gun teams up front, ready to support the advance. We won't let the Hangdogs take the initiative."

"Yes, centurion," he responded without hesitation and swiftly moved to carry out the orders.

"Well, back to the front... peace was nice while it lasted," I muttered to myself.

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