Copper Centurion (The Steam Empire Chronicles) by Daniel Ottalini

minutes or seconds, for all Julius knew. He watched the press of men before him, his legionnaires holding off a force twice their size.
    It was only a matter of time until they broke somewhere.
    I’ve got to get a message to the tribune. We need help. Gathering his wits, he looked around for a speaking tube. Spying one only a few paces away he stood, pausing as the world swayed, then staggered over to the tube and uncorked it.
    “This is Centurion Caesar of the XIII Germania on top deck. We’re being pushed back and need reserves.” He closed his eyes, praying that someone was listening on the other end. He heard a brief, but maddeningly unintelligible comment from the other end.
    Finally, someone responded: “Centurion, your men are on their own. The ship interior has been penetrated on B Deck and our forces are pinned down in hall-to-hall fighting. You’ll have to find a way to destroy their boarding equipment or force them back.”
    “I don’t have the manpower—”
    “Just do it, Centurion. Or die trying. We don’t have time to dawdle. Get those barbarians off this ship. That’s an order.”
    Julius didn’t bother to respond. Leaving the speaking tube uncorked, he returned to his men. Although exhaustion and confusion had overwhelmed his earlier enthusiasm, Julius now saw what was about to happen. Grimly, he tightened his helmet and shield, drew his sword, and waded back into the fight, steely determination and anger growing in his chest.
    “Push them, lads—all together!” Gwendyrn shouted from his position on the left flank. Julius could hear his deep bellow cutting through the sounds of battle. He watched the left flank began methodically pushing the boarders back, each step condensing the enemy troops, hampering their abilities to strike unencumbered. “Come on, lads, you’re going soft on me. We don’t want to take them on a date. We’re not inviting them over for wine. Push them off the gods-damned ship! ” Gwendyrn exhorted his men.
    Julius hurriedly gave similar orders to his men, as the Roman line began to stretch thin between the left and center. The left was advancing so quickly that the center would soon be unable to support it. Already the trapped men were sliding to their left, around the edge of the advancing shield wall, hammering at the thin line of legionnaires protecting the vulnerable side of the wall. If they gave way, Gwendyrn’s entire flank could dissolve. Jupiter damn him, if only he had told me what he was doing, we could help. Although Julius trusted his subordinates, Gwendyrn was far more willing to take the initiative than his other subordinate, Sub-Centurion Hespinus, currently commanding the squads on the right flank.
    Julius grabbed a wounded legionnaire, who gave a half salute with a bandaged arm seeping blood. “Find Hespinus. Tell him we need to push them back over the edge. Use the railing as a weapon. He has two minutes to prepare before we go.” The man repeated the message quickly and raced aft, navigating the press of bodies to find the officer.
    Julius turned and gave the order to his boys. He brought up all his reserve men, and even threw a few wounded warriors who could still hold shields back into the mix.
    It was all or nothing.
    He checked the pouches on his belt, finding the phosphorus flares right where they should be. Destroy the enemy ship, or die trying . Gripping them tightly in his hands, he mentally counted down the two minutes.
    “Alright, men of Rome, are you going to let the Gaul’s men do all the work? Are they the only real soldiers on this airship? Let’s show them how well real Romans can fight!” he bellowed. “Shield wall, push them on my mark.”
    His men moved closer together, filling gaps between the shields and interlocking their arms. Behind them, legionnaires packed together tightly, using their plumbata to stab out at any Nortlander who rushed the line. Now the legionnaires would not move from the wall, only stab their swords