“Is Stragenia under siege?”     “Stragenia is gone, Error Nuker.  What remains of its soldiers entered our gates moments ago.”  Jupiter glanced toward the door.  “Commander Priscianus will explain.”    Vectis stared at the old, bushy-browed commander swaying in the entranceway.  His right arm dangled at his side, his hand twitching.  A surgeon stood behind him, supporting his weight.    “He insisted on walking,” the surgeon said.    Priscianus pulled his arm from the surgeon’s grasp, took a feeble step forward, and straightened his back.  In a wavering voice he managed, “Prefect, you have been betrayed.”  That said, he wilted like a dandelion in a fire.  They propped him up on a couch and gave him sips of hot Celtic beer.

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