Fallout:Industrial Baron in Caesar's Legion

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Fortunately, the call to arms didn't come so suddenly as to disrupt all my plans. Though I would have preferred to continue overseeing every detail of my lands personally, I knew I could trust McKinley. So far, she had proven herself a skilled merchant, securing deals and resources while I focused on other matters. Now, I had to rely on her to keep everything running smoothly as I headed back to the battlefield.

I had managed to equip my legionaries well. It wasn't the fully armored cohort in power armor I had initially envisioned, but I was satisfied nonetheless. Of the nearly five hundred men, I had armed a hundred with T-51B power armor, which we had either repaired or built through reverse engineering. They weren't perfect, but they worked. Additionally, the two prototypes I had designed were ready. One was fully perfected, while the other, still in an experimental phase, was waiting to prove its effectiveness—without exploding, hopefully.

We loaded the vertibird with ammunition, weapons, and the necessary gear for the upcoming battle. I decided to take a small group of legionaries with me, while the rest of my cohort, along with the heavy equipment, would arrive in three days by motorized wagons. Time was pressing, but we couldn't afford to be careless.

The journey to the battlefield was relatively short. Just a few hours, thanks to the advantage of flying over the hills and mountains that would slow the rest of the cohort as they had to go around them. We quickly arrived at the location where the radio signal had been sent, but what I found there wasn't what I had expected.

The first thing I noticed was how small the camp was. Compared to the imposing sights I had grown accustomed to, where endless seas of tents stretched as far as the eye could see, this camp seemed insignificant. Just a few tents and perhaps a couple thousand legionaries. To face the Hangdogs, whose mobility and knowledge of the terrain gave them a clear advantage, this force seemed woefully small.

We landed without issue, but the sense of unease lingered. My cohort was still on its way, meaning we only had the small group I had brought with me on the vertibird at our disposal.

After unloading the last crates, I headed toward Lanius' tent. The fact that most of the forces were dispersed concerned me. I knew the Hangdogs were not easy opponents, and if they caught us off guard, they could wreak havoc.

When I reached the entrance of the tent, I paused. The atmosphere was tense, a clear sign that Lanius was not in a good mood, but that was typical before a major battle. I took a deep breath and entered.

Lanius stood, staring intently at a map spread out over an improvised table, his eyes fixed on the paper as if trying to read the future in the lines and ink marks. When he saw me enter, he didn't lift his head.

"Centurion Gaius, it seems you reacted swiftly to the summons," Lanius said, his voice firm as his eyes remained on the map.

"Indeed, Legate. Always at the service of the son of Mars. How can I assist you?" I replied, stepping closer to the campaign table.

Lanius pointed to a river marked on the map. "We have about twenty thousand profligates on the other side. That river isn't very deep, which means they'll have no trouble using their numbers to cross. And according to our scouts, they're eager to do so. It's only a matter of time before they launch all their forces against us."

"How many legionaries do we have, Legate?" I asked, assessing the situation.

"Just over five thousand," Nicodemus responded from across the table.

"Correct," Lanius confirmed. "Most are veterans or prime legionaries. The rest of our forces should arrive in the coming days, though I doubt the Hangdogs will give us that much time. Frumentarii, give your report."

The frumentarius, clearly uneasy under Lanius' gaze, spoke quickly: "The leader of the profligates didn't wait for us to make the first move. He called upon his tribe and offered the scavengers from Dog City the rights to loot any technology they could take from our lands and their city. This has attracted many, and now they're accompanied by a large mercenary contingent from several tribes."

Lanius remained silent, processing the information. His dark gaze indicated he was already considering all the possibilities.

"So we're not just facing the Hangdogs, but also scavengers eager to plunder what they see as a gold mine," I muttered, my mind working through the situation.

"Exactly," Lanius responded, his tone calculated. "They want to take what belongs to Caesar, but we won't let them cross this river. Their blood will run in honor of Mars until the last profligate dies."

"Good. I've brought more weapons and ammunition," I said, raising my voice so everyone present could hear clearly. "I have around four hundred assault rifles to distribute and ten machine guns. Every minute counts. We need to dig trenches and set up machine gun nests at the ford they'll use to cross."

I looked at the gathered officers, my gaze passing over each face. "Does anyone know exactly where the ford is?"

Nicodemus was the first to speak, pointing at the map. "Here, Centurion. This is the lowest crossing point of the river. Their scouts have used it before. If they're going to attack, it'll be here."

I nodded. "Perfect. Legate, I recommend fortifying that position with everything we've got. Machine gun nests on both sides, well-covered and ready to open fire. We'll use the terrain to our advantage and dig shallow trenches or simply raise small mounds. This will give our legionaries an elevated position to fire from, making it difficult for the profligates to return fire effectively."

Lanius stepped closer to the map and studied the strategy, nodding slowly. "It seems sound, Centurion. I don't want any of their forces crossing that river. If they try, let it be their grave. Let them regret challenging Lord Caesar."

"What are you all standing around for? Get to work!" I ordered as I exited the tent.

The legionaries quickly got to work, gathering all the tools at their disposal. We began digging trenches in front of the river crossing, setting up machine gun nests in strategic positions. We left an ample supply of ammunition near each position, ready for when the battle began.

We distributed the assault rifles among the veteran legionaries, who were already familiar with them thanks to previous shipments. These rifles, which Lanius had designated to enhance the armament of his men, would now become a crucial advantage. Additionally, many of the veteran legionaries were already wearing the new armor I had designed, making them easily recognizable as the seasoned warriors under Lanius' command.

The discipline and organization of the Legion shone in these moments. The men worked swiftly, knowing every second was vital. I watched as the machine gun nests took shape and the trenches stretched across the terrain. Everything was being prepared so that our legionaries could hold back the onslaught of the profligates.

The dirt extracted during the trench digging was used strategically to build embankments, raising the terrain and allowing us to position a second line of shooters. These small mounds not only provided greater protection but also gave our legionaries a tactical advantage, allowing them to fire from an elevated position.

With two well-prepared lines of fire, machine gun nests positioned, and a solid supply of ammunition, I felt we had done everything possible to fortify our position. The profligates would face fierce resistance, and if they attempted to cross the river, they would be met with an unrelenting storm of fire from our elevated defenses.

"Gaius, where are the mortars?" Nicodemus asked, his gaze full of expectation.

"I only brought a dozen light mortars, and ammunition is limited," I replied seriously. "Unless Lanius authorizes me to fetch more equipment and my legionaries, this is all we have for now."

Nicodemus nodded, but his expression hardened at my words. "Keep overseeing the fortifications. I'll speak with Lanius to get you authorization to bring more men and equipment. An extra five men in power armor would make a huge difference in the battle to come."

With determination, Nicodemus headed towards Lanius' tent, while I continued overseeing the legionaries as they set up the machine gun nests and trenches. I knew every second counted, and each meter of prepared ground could make a critical difference in the impending battle. The tension in the camp was palpable; we were all acutely aware that the Hangdogs could launch their attack at any moment.

The wind carried the scent of freshly dug earth as the legionaries worked relentlessly. The trenches were taking shape, and the machine gun nests were well positioned, ready to mow down anyone attempting to cross the river. It was an ideal setup for an effective defense, but with limited men and resources, the odds were still stacked against us.

As I watched the men work, a shadow of doubt crossed my mind. If Lanius didn't authorize reinforcements, we'd have to make do with what we had, but with only five thousand legionaries against a vastly larger enemy force, the difference in numbers would be felt with every wave of attack.

"Centurion," I suddenly heard. I turned to see one of my men approaching quickly. "Nicodemus is back, and Lanius has given his authorization."

I sprinted to the vertibird, aware of the urgency. Time was of the essence, and every minute brought the Hangdogs closer to launching their assault. The first flight was short, but as we landed and I saw my men moving with the motorized vehicles, I knew we had a chance. I loaded all the men in power armor and transported additional ammunition and mortars for the battle.

I managed two trips before we finally saw the massive tribal army of the Hangdogs making their attempt to cross the river.

With my group of men in power armor positioned in the first trench and the mortars ready to fire, we waited patiently for the attack to begin. We were outnumbered; even with more legionaries arriving, the enemy forces remained overwhelming. Yet, the legionaries kept their discipline, each at their post, weapons ready, awaiting the first wave.

The first to attack were the vehicles, charging at our positions like a hammer wielded by clumsy hands. They lacked the armor needed to withstand our bullets, and within minutes, the drivers were dead, leaving many vehicles stranded in the river. The water wasn't deep, but the current and the bodies made the crossing chaotic, blocking those attempting to get through.

The few vehicles that made it past were forced to swerve erratically, trying to divert our fire. But we weren't falling for their tricks. The machine gun nests remained silent, waiting for their true target: the infantry. We knew their real strength lay in the numbers of men rushing our positions, and soon they would be visible.

While some legionaries finished off the survivors of the first wave, my eyes and those of my men stayed fixed on the real bulk of the enemy force, which was charging toward the river. I could see them from a distance, a chaotic mass of bodies rushing at us with fury.

"Wait until they cross the river!" I shouted through the speakers of my power armor, my amplified voice cutting through the air, reaching every legionary in the trenches. "That's when we open fire!"

My men stood ready, fingers on the triggers, keeping calm before the storm. They knew that patience was as lethal as our bullets at this moment. The machine gun nests stayed silent, waiting for the right moment.

The enemy began reaching the river, some trying to cross using the abandoned vehicles, others diving straight into the water. This was it. My hand gripped the firing control, ready for the final command.

At the perfect moment, all the machine guns and mortars opened fire simultaneously. The sound was deafening, and within seconds, dozens of tribals were torn apart by the relentless barrage of bullets. The combination of machine gun fire and mortar explosions turned the river crossing into a killing field.

Chaos spread among the tribals; some tried to retreat, while others pressed on, blinded by desperation or fear. But none of their attempts to break through succeeded. The vehicles they had hoped to use as cover became death traps as our bullets hit them, causing explosions or riddling them with holes.

The legionaries in the trenches needed no further orders; they knew exactly what to do. They fired with precision, targeting the enemies who managed to dodge the explosions, while the mortars continued to rain down on the enemy ranks. The air filled with screams of pain and the stench of gunpowder.

Then, enormous war beasts, trained for combat, charged toward our positions, followed by much more resilient armored vehicles.

"Take the rocket launchers! Don't let them through!" I shouted to my men through the power armor's loudspeakers.

Within seconds, several legionaries in power armor opened the weapons crates and quickly grabbed rocket launchers, aiming at the fast-approaching vehicles. A thunderous boom echoed through the air as the rockets launched, streaking through the sky with trails of smoke.

The first explosions rocked the ground, obliterating the armored vehicles. Some of the beasts were blown apart in the blasts, while others, luckier, continued their relentless charge, swimming across the river and dodging the gunfire, dangerously close to our lines. I knew they would be upon us in seconds if we didn't act fast.

Dozens of these brutal war dogs reached the trenches, and in the blink of an eye, chaos erupted within our ranks. Legionaries screamed as the animals tore through limbs with their powerful jaws, attacking without mercy. Each bite was lethal, and men fell quickly under the savage fury of those beasts trained to kill.

But amidst the carnage, my men in power armor held the line. The dogs tried to tear through the armor with their teeth, but the suits withstood the onslaught. Blow after blow, the legionaries in power armor managed to stand firm.

While we were focused on eliminating the dogs, a greater threat loomed closer. Hundreds of tribals had taken advantage of the chaos in our lines and crossed the river, their silhouettes barely visible through the constant barrage of machine gun fire. Despite the concentrated fire sweeping the riverbank, the overwhelming numbers of tribals were beginning to take their toll.

"They're crossing!" I shouted through the power armor's speakers, alerting the legionaries in the machine gun nests and the shooters in the trenches. The enemy was closer than we could allow.

The tribals, defying the hail of bullets, charged like madmen. Some wielded machetes and makeshift weapons, while others fired whatever they could. They threw themselves at our positions with no fear, their screams mingling with the thunder of battle.

"Burn them!" I ordered the legionaries equipped with flamethrowers, as the dogs and tribals continued their furious assault.

One of the power-armored legionaries, likely grinning under his helmet, responded with a mocking tone: "How do you like your dog, Centurion? Juicy or extra crispy?"

"Ash, quickly!" I shouted, keeping my focus on the battle.

The legionaries followed the order without hesitation. The air filled with a hellish roar as the flamethrowers came to life, spewing torrents of fire that consumed the dogs and tribals who dared come close. Within seconds, the enemies' screams were silenced beneath the flames, as the ground before us transformed into a burning inferno.

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