Title: Maxed Out, Part 5
Author: NurseDarry
Rating: XXIV
Disclaimer: Ridley, you're brill, Russell, you're a ponce.
Timeline: During "Summertime"

In the whirlwind that is my home, the gods are busy blowing angrily. Or so I thought.

Nothing that happens here is as it seems. Or rather it is, until someone begins to tell the tale of events. Then the facts become distorted and the truth becomes obscured. The whole occurrence becomes as tangled and twisted as one of the stories I might have told my son to send him to sleep.

That is how things are here every day. My Jael doesn't see things this way; she is clear-sighted and good-hearted. The rest of the women here are just a little different. That is to say while there may be goodness about many of them, there is nothing clear.

~*~

I sit in the Officers' Canteen with two whose acquaintance I had made in the previous months. One is a bureaucrat- haughty but with a good nature and quick eye. I learn he is from "another realm". There are many here who claim that origin.

The other is more relaxed yet a daring and brave man. I often see him dressed strangely-sometimes quite formally, other times he is covered in dirt. He favours a helmet of sorts, which he removes when he enters the room, though, the whip at his side never leaves him.

We smile at the barmaid, a short brunette woman, who scowls at my companion as dust falls from his sleeves to the bartop. I have learned to not place even my hands within her view, unless reaching for my ale.

A small spider skuttles out from the Dusty Man's sleeve and he flicks it away casually.

CRASH!

The bar mistress has flattened the creature with the weapon she keeps behind her. We back away slightly, holding our mugs protectively to our chests.

The barmaid is soon distracted though by the sight of her apprentice, looking upset and worried. The woman comes in and asks stringently for one of the beverages that is made in the "noisy machine".

The barmaid hands her a colourful drink, holds up the dead spider and passes it toward her companion. "Finish up, then go sell this to Dorotea."

The other woman doesn't hear her mistress. She drinks down the beverage and holds out the glass.

"Gimme another," she implores.

The girl at a table near us joins the conversation with the two women at the bar.

It is hard not to overhear what they discuss.

"The General *is* in bed, yes?" says the girl at the table.

I know they refer to the "President" here- General Kenobi- a fine man.

"I already thought of that," the barmaid's apprentice replied. "Darry said absolutely NO vigorous activity."

Darry is the name of the Medic married to my servant. She has obviously been called to tend the General for something and has charged that he rest and recuperate. I know this feeling well following battle, although in the field there was often little time for convalescence. It is different here. Whatever, he has been afflicted with must be serious. The Medic (and my servant, for that matter) is rarely seen.

And what these women were discussing was neither "rest" nor "recuperation".

"Well, what if it isn't vigorous?" the bar mistress asked her companions. "What if it's--"

The Dusty Man shifts nervously. "Hear there's a game on...someplace."

"Yeah, me too," I reply, grabbing something from the bar.

"Wait up," says the Haughty Bureaucrat.

I have picked up the weapon we use for forcing the machine on the wall to change the moving pictures it produces. We sit close to the machine and I point and engage the weapon. I do this until we find what we want- an arena event. This one involves men moving swiftly around in a cold chamber and hitting each other with long curved sticks.

Several of my men and the Dusty Man's woman, also in the bar, appear to be happy with my choice of moving pictures, although not with our choice of seat. The Dusty Man's woman reaches out and beats the Bureaucrat over the head.

I long ago learned not to get involved with any of these women's violent acts that did not directly affect me. I pressed another button on the weapon and the voices from the machine came closer.

The apprentice at the bar began to speak louder. "You know, nothing jarring! No high-impact boinking, gotta go easy on his head, so no hair grabbing or anything like that!"

The three of us shift in our chairs. We know very well what most days' activities here involve. Indeed, we are an integral part of the activity, yet we do not want to share in others' stories of passion.

However, at present it is becoming hard to ignore hearing about it. I bring the machine's voices even closer.

"He'll probably need to stay on his back, so you'll need to be on top and just take it nice and slow and--"

We've had enough. The three of us, along with my men, leave at speed for the Garden of Beer just outside the pub.

~*~

The fortress seems to be taking forever to erect. Motivating my men is half the problem. My Jael doesn't seem to realise that a campus full of drink and beautiful women plus she, dressing as she does- in metallic underclothes -distracts them.

I find my servant Cicero with the troops when I arrive at my tent later. He tells me that General Kenobi has been grievously injured by the Dean and that many of the women are upset. He thinks it best not to stay in the building, his wife being busy and her treatment regime making her very unpopular among her peers.

Based on the overheard conversation at the Canteen, this is not hard to understand. These women find it difficult taking no for an answer at the best of times.

Cicero and I are discussing his in-laws when two of my men walk toward us to bring me news. The Dean, my beloved Emmy, once my woman, but now estranged from me has been killed. My heart cries out in sadness, though I show no emotion outwardly.

Cicero starts up and begins to run toward his home and his wife. She may need him now. "If only tew stop her from throwing a party," he shouts over his shoulder.

I consider how I will tell my Jael this sad news.

~*~

Jael is not happy. First the men in the Red Chariot have abandoned her. They had been filling the fortress moat with water from a large snake-like instrument attached to the chariot. Now they have moved to the main building and were spraying water upon the drive where the killing must have happened.

Also, my men, too distracted by the recent events and Jael's choice of leather and silver garment, are shovelling earth into the half-filled moat.

I try to be as gentle with Jael as I can, knowing that instead of tears, I will get anger and determination. I will endeavour to support her through this.

She quickly sees the demise of the university stemming from such an event. She says words, like "press get winda this" and "outta a job". I know she will mourn later, and I will be there to hold her. But for now, she becomes the warrior I know and love.

~*~

Jael has gone to see the other General in order to confirm my report. I can see that trouble has already started. I have my men stationed around the campus perimeter. They may be adept at keeping people from getting, in, but alas, are not so good at keeping people from leaving. This is because they are usually threatened with bodily harm if they try to stop one of the women from departing.

Hence, they stand immobile as a strange man runs across the grounds, pursued by the barmaid's apprentice and the Leader of the Red Chariot's team. One of them implores the new archer to stop the man, but he shakes his head, his long hair flying. He has also learned not to meddle in the affairs of women that don't belong to him. Particularly this woman.

~*~

Jael runs toward me and I catch her in my arms. She looks happy.

I smile at her, awaiting an explanation.

"It's all a mistake. The General was just concussed cause Emmy threw a shoe at him, and Darry had to confine him to bed and he looks really cute except he has a big lump on his head and he's drawing on Darry's back for some reason, but I'm sure it's nothing, so don't tell Cicero, cause I know Darry would never be not Ungrateful and Emmy was walking around without clunky shoes which was really strange, cause I'm so used to hearing her clunk around and she was alive cause it wasn't her that got run over it was her clunky shoes, so everyone's okay except they're not cause Darry won't let the General...be...uh...Grateful with anyone until she says it's okay, and so now they're all mad at Emmy for hitting the General with a clunky shoe that got run over and they're mad at Darry cause she's not letting them see the General and she gets to sit with him and watch Price Is Right and now he's in there with Darry and Emmy and I'd rather be fighting a hundred Tigrises of Gaul than be in the same room with an injured General, an angry Diva and the Nurse."

I smile at her, still awaiting an explanation.

~*~

Days pass. The General recovers though, tempers are still high from remembered strife. Cicero reports that he can now type his name, whatever that means.

Jael announces that we are going on a journey. She also says I should prepare to battle tackiness, greed and Elvis.

~*~

We are riding in a big black chariot. I am formally dressed and sit with Jael and the men of the Red Chariot with their Leader. We also ride with the Librarian's apprentice and her dust-covered man, my second Quintus and his woman, a woman with her "Watcher" and several others.

My foe Commodus and his woman are in the chariot ahead of us with my servant and his Medic. Emmy and General Kenobi are leading this expedition.

Suddenly the chariot ahead of us stops short and our chariot lurches to a halt to avoid hitting it. Apologies are said all round for the disruptions to seating arrangements and hairstyles.

The barmaid's apprentice exits the chariot ahead of us and walks toward an edifice surrounded by a large and colourful moat. She does not see the chariots around her, though they see her and they complain. Loudly. Shortly the Leader of the Red Chariot leaves us and follows the other woman toward the moat.

The moat has begun to dance.

Commodus attempts to leave the chariot by the other side, but his woman pulls him in the opposite direction.

I notice something outside- a building that looks familiar. Not in itself, but by its design. I look more closely. C-A-E-S-E-R-S…

Jael touches my arm and asks if I would like our moat to dance. "Uh-huh," I nod distractedly.

P-A-L-A-C-E. Does this building belong to Marcus Aurelius? Surely he was the greatest of all Caesers in my lifetime. Lifetime. Strange I should think that, for surely Marcus was in Elysium. But then...so should I be and yet I was here.

I shall go and find him if he resides there. He was more my father than father to Commodus and it is only fitting that I should do him this honour. I touch Quintus' arm and point in the direction of the building. He looks astonished, but intrigued.

We walk to the chariot in front and I attract Cicero's attention. His Medic is busy reading a scroll that must contain information about this place as she is pointing and saying exotic words like "Armani" and "Bulgari". Perhaps it is an enchantment to lessen the intensity of the peculiar lights in this place.

I point to the Palace and Cicero looks up at. Then he looks to the Medic. She regards her scroll.

"Hell, yes. They've got Coach, Louis Vuitton, Ferragamo and Fendi!"

At these encouraging words, we break away from the others and march with purpose toward our destination.