Muses of Roma (Codex Antonius Book 1) (16 page)

The Umbra Navigator ducked through
Caduceus’s
connector hatch and smiled at Kaeso. He was a young man, maybe mid-twenties, with the blond hair and freckles of Germanic ancestry. Though his face did not shimmer, Kaeso knew he wore an Umbra cloak. All Ancile did while working.

“Kaeso Aemilius,” the Navigator said, holding out his hand. “I am so honored to meet you. You're a legend. Your missions are still studied in the Academy.”

Kaeso glanced around, making sure his crew wasn’t nearby. “Galeo, are you trying to kill me? Talk like that will turn my brain into
garum
.”

Galeo’s eyes focused behind Kaeso. “This must be your engineer?”

Kaeso turned, saw Daryush peeking from the engine room hatch. As soon as Kaeso saw him, Daryush withdrew.

“Looking forward to meeting you,” Galeo called out.

Kaeso scowled, then said in a quiet voice, “What’s with the new disguise?”

“I couldn’t come as Dr. Pullo, could I? Your crew would suspect something odd about a medicus who also happens to be an engineer who can install these ‘magical’ upgrades to your engines.”

Kaeso looked past Galeo and toward the empty corridor behind him. “Where’s your equipment?”

“I'm on a scouting mission. I want to see what modifications you need to get the upgrades to talk nicely with your ship.”

Kaeso nodded, then motioned Galeo to follow him. “Some advice. You look like you’re two months out of the Academy.”

“That green, eh?” Galeo’s eyes lost their focus, and then his face began to age. Slight creases appeared around his eyes and mouth, and his skin grew a bit looser around his cheeks. His hair went from bright blond to a duller tone with a stray white hair here and there. Galeo now looked to be in his lower forties.

“Good?” he asked.

“Good,” Kaeso admitted. “I couldn’t do that with my cloak when I was in. Not without shutting it down first.”

“Many things have changed since then, old friend.”

“Right,” Kaeso said, then turned to Galeo, blocking his entrance to the engine room. “Like you becoming an infectee?”

Galeo stopped and narrowed his eyes. “Nothing gets past you does it?” he said in a low voice.

“Even my semi-active implant can feel a Vessel in the room. I felt it when you were ‘Dr. Pullo,’ but there were other men in the cargo bay, so I wasn’t sure if it was one of them. Now you’re the only stranger on my ship.”

“Interesting,” Galeo said. “Well to start, you know we don't like being called 'infectees.' Implies we have a disease, and that is not true. I know you said it to watch my reaction. Please don't test me again.”

Kaeso nodded. “My apologies. Calling you 'Vessels' always seemed too religious.”

“You're not a religious man? You were once very pious. Before Umbra, you attended all the rituals with your family.”

“Get to your point.”

“Easy, Kaeso. I'm just saying one man's faith is another man's nonsense. The Muses bless Vessels with their wisdom. And make no mistake; I consider it a blessing. You would too if you became a Vessel when you had the chance.”

Kaeso frowned, remembering the offer just before he was blacklisted. To this day he was still unsure why he turned them down. It was what most Ancilia worked toward throughout their career.

Except Kaeso had never been comfortable with it. He knew the ancient Muses gave Vessels the ‘secrets of history,’ but he never liked the idea that he’d…change if he accepted the offer. And not just his personality, but rumor had it the change was also physical. Vessels never left their private residence without their Umbra cloaks, so only other Vessels knew for sure what the physical change was. It never sat well with Kaeso, even when he was at his most loyal to Umbra.

“What do you want to do to my engines?” Kaeso asked.

Galeo smiled. “Not much. Just make them outrace the gods.”

Before Kaeso could comment, Lucia dropped down from the upper level. “Centuriae,” she said, then stared at Galeo.

He gave her a warm smile. “You must be Lucia Marius Calida, the trierarch. It is an honor to meet you, my lady.” He bowed to her like a Roman nobleman to a patrician matron. Kaeso stifled a smile as Lucia’s lips curled in abject contempt.

When Galeo straightened, he also saw the look and frowned. He turned to Kaeso. “Is your entire crew as cynical as you?”

“Who are you?” Lucia asked.

“Call me Navigator,” he said. “I'm here to upgrade your engines.” Kaeso knew ‘Galeo’ wasn’t even Galeo’s real name, but it was his Umbra name, and not to be revealed outside Umbra.

“What kind of upgrades?” Lucia asked.

Galeo seemed confused. “Did your centuriae not mention it?”

She kept her focus on Galeo. “My centuriae doesn't confide much in his crew anymore.”

“Well,” Galeo said. “I can't go into the details, because they’re classified, but I can tell you there are few ships in existence that can do what
Caduceus
will do when I'm done with her.”

“Wonderful,” she said. “Too bad the crew won't experience this.”

“What do you want, Lucia?” Kaeso asked.

“I wanted to see what our
friend
is going to do to our engines. Someone needs to know how to work them when you bring the ship back from Terra.” She looked at Kaeso. “You were coming back, right?”

“If I may,” Galeo interrupted, “there will be no difference in how you run the ship from the command deck. So it’s not necessary for you to waste your valuable time watching me make modifications you won’t even notice.”

“Lucia,” Kaeso said, “I’ll watch him. You still trust me, right?”

She stared at him several moments, then turned and climbed the ladder back up to the command deck. Galeo was about to say something, but Kaeso raised his hand. Kaeso called into the engine room, “Daryush?”

The large Persian peeked around the corner.

“Give us the room, please,” Kaeso said. Daryush nodded, then squeezed between Kaeso and Galeo, and climbed the ladder. Kaeso turned and motioned Galeo into the engine room.

Galeo studied the tabulari console and shook his head. “I never thought I'd see a Falcon 2.1.1 again. You have given me quite the challenge, Centuriae.”

“It’s old, I know.”

Galeo laughed. “Falcon 4's are old.
This
has been around since Marcus Antonius Primus took Roma.”

“Can you modify it?”

“We’ll see,” Galeo said, opening the ship’s engine specs.

“What did you mean saying
Caduceus
will ‘outrace the gods’?”

Galeo scrolled through the virtual pages on the tabulari with inhuman speed. “For one thing, the ship won't need to follow a way line for interstellar travel.”

Kaeso blinked. “How will it travel if not by way line?”

“Let me back up. It will still use way lines, but not the kind you and every other human being use. Without wading too deep into way line physics, the way lines you know are rare and powerful. That’s why planets with way lines are so coveted and fought over for centuries. Terra happens to be lucky enough to have a way line in its solar system, as does Libertus.”

“I
am
a starship Centuriae.”

Galeo smiled as he reviewed the ship's engine logs. “To put it simply, every speck of mass in the universe has a quantum level way line connecting it to every other speck of mass in the universe. Umbra has learned how to build an interstellar engine that can ride those quantum way lines. In other words,
Caduceus
will not have to ride known way lines to get from one system to another. It will ride the
quantum
way lines and go anywhere in the universe it wants to go.”

“Delta sleep?”

“You still need delta sleep during a quantum way line jump,” Galeo said. “We still haven’t figured out way line madness.”

Kaeso had assumed
Caduceus’s
Roman infiltration would involve more fake identities and bribes. None of which would fool a competent Roman way station customs agent in the midst of a crisis. It was the main reason Kaeso didn’t want his crew coming along.

But the quantum way line drives changed everything. Umbra had discovered the magical interstellar drive that humanity had sought since going to the stars. If this drive became public, it would make obsolete almost 800 years of colonial settlement and military strategies. It would open up for colonization whole new planets and systems without major way lines. Libertus—and Terra—were ‘protected’ by a buffer of way line jumps, with each jump guarded by heavily armed way stations that could send warning drones to the next waystation. These new engines meant any hostile fleet could appear above a planet at any moment without traveling the known way lines.

Kaeso now understood why Galeo didn’t want anyone watching over his shoulder while he installed the new systems.

“When will you tell them?”

Kaeso blinked out of his reverie. “What?”

“Your crew,” Galeo said. “When will you tell them you want to rejoin your
old
crew.”

“I’d rather not have this conversation with you.”

“Let me give you some advice, from one 'old' Ancile to another. It is better to be up front about these things. Your little stunt with my medicus yesterday showed you care about your crew. Don’t dishonor them by lying to them.”

Kaeso wanted to laugh. “Don’t lie to them, you say. How can I
not
lie to them? How can I
not
keep things from them, when if I tell them who I was or what you are, their lives would be forfeit? I’ve done nothing but lie to them since I first met them.”

Galeo looked at him, understanding on his Umbra-cloaked face. “Our vocation demands we keep terrible secrets. Do terrible things. Because if we don't, if we drop our guard for a second, the Romans would do to us what they did to Kaldeth and other nations throughout history. Libertus would become just another jewel for them to store in their Tarpian Vaults. A breeding ground for slaves and soldiers and drafted colonists. I know you're still a patriot, Kaeso Aemilius. I know you would give your life to keep that from happening to your countrymen. To your daughter.”

A wave of grief hit Kaeso again. He swallowed hard and kept himself steady. The waves were weaker as his semi-active implant adjusted to emotions he had not felt since before he joined Umbra. He hoped the damned implant would keep the emotions in check while he was in Roma. The last thing he needed were the distracting memories of how he abandoned his own daughter.

Once the grief subsided, a burning anger filled Kaeso at Galeo’s cheap ploy. “Stop,” he snarled. “You know what it does to me when you mention my—my daughter.”

“I’m sorry, old friend, but I want you to remember what you’re fighting for.”

I remember,
Kaeso thought.
That’s the problem.

Kaeso glanced at the tabulari. “Are you done?”

“Yes, I believe I have what I came for. The modifications should work even on this old girl.” With a grin, he said, “Let’s make her dance, eh?”

Lepidus and Appius sat in a ground car made to look like a common electric taxi. The Praetorians had modified this “taxi” so a person could drive it, giving its passengers a subtle disguise in the busy Roman streets.

It also had the tracker controls built into its console.

Lepidus watched Marcia Licinius Ocella and the boy walk up to the Temple of Empanda, both wearing dirty cloaks with their hoods up. They blended with all the other stinking beggars waiting for their daily ration of soup and bread.

Appius shifted again, which annoyed Lepidus. “What is it, Appius?”

“Nothing, sir.”

“Speak, boy. Apprentices learn by asking questions.”

“I’d never question your wisdom, sir, but...”

Lepidus glared at the young man. “If I wanted a slave who took orders without thinking, I would have brought one. What is your question?”

“Well, sir, it's been two days and all they've done is go from one beggar’s temple to another. Perhaps we should just arrest them now and rescue the boy before the woman hands him over to the Liberti.”

Lepidus grunted. “Have you no fear of the gods? That’s a Temple of Empanda. They have sanctuary as long as they are within its walls. Yes we have the power to storm in there, but it would not be proper.”

Appius nodded, but Lepidus could tell he still wanted to enter the temple nonetheless.

“Patience, Appius. They won’t go from one beggar’s temple to another for the rest of their lives. They're wasting time until they find a way out of the city. Once their contact has made all the necessary arrangements, they will attempt to leave. In the meantime, they need to eat.”

Appius frowned. “It just seems like an awful risk, sir. She could hurt the boy any time. I won’t lie, sir, but my first instinct is to save the boy.”

“Your instincts are honorable,” Lepidus said, watching the woman and boy enter the temple. “But what makes you think the boy
wants
to be saved?”

“You still think he wants to defect?”

Lepidus shrugged. “It’s a theory I won't ignore out of religious piety. The Consular Family may be touched by the gods, but they are still human. If the boy wants to defect to Libertus, than that means the gods have abandoned him, for whatever reason. Which means he is just another boy.”

“And if he does wish to defect? Will you be able to...?”

Lepidus turned to Appius. “Your hesitation is admirable. He is the Consular Heir. This
should
be hard for you. I would doubt your faith in the gods if it weren't.”

“It's just that—with respect, sir—the thought does not seem so difficult for you, yet you are the most righteous I know. Will you kill the boy if necessary?”

Lepidus sighed, and looked back at the Temple of Empanda just as the boy and the woman entered its open doors and disappeared among the other beggars.

“Did I ever tell you I fought at the Battle of Caan?” Lepidus asked. He turned back to Appius, who’d gone pale. The young man shook his head once.

“It was as bad as the stories and holos say,” Lepidus said. “Never mind the disaster occurred because incompetent generals decided to land our dropships right in the middle of the Kaldethian strongholds. Wanted to end the war in one blow, they told us. Surprise the Kaldethians. We just had to show them the might of the Roman Legions, and they'd drop their guns and flee into the hills, they said.”

Lepidus remembered the pompous General Aulus Pontius, his fat face glistening with sweat in the cold Roman flagship as it orbited Kaldeth. The staff officers had cheered his naive little speech, sure of victory over the Kaldethians. There wasn’t a
soldier
among them. If there were, they wouldn’t have cheered.

Lepidus, a tribune at the time, had clapped politely, but doubt grew in his belly. He had exchanged a glance with his wife, Triaria, a centurion in the cohort Lepidus commanded. She had the same wariness in her eyes. He remembered the conversation they'd shared the night before as they lay naked in each other's arms, the sweat from their love still cooling. Why not bombard the strongholds first, Triaria had asked. Reduce them to rubble and let the Legions mop up the survivors. Lepidus said that was not an option, for it would destroy most of Kaldeth's wealthy cities. That was the real reason Roma wanted Kaldeth. Roma needed her in one piece. Triaria had still doubted, despite Lepidus's assurances the gods and numbers were on Roma's side.

“Needless to say,” Lepidus continued, “it did not turn out that way. This race of soft, Lost World merchants were waiting for us, and they were prepared. I lost a third of my cohort in less than fifteen minutes after our dropships landed. The other centuries in my legion fared the same. So it was
we
who dropped our guns and fled into the hills.”

Lepidus regarded the tracker console. Ocella moved slowly, perhaps in the bread line.

“Once we regrouped and reorganized, General Pontius gathered all the tribunes and railed against the cowardice of our cohorts; how they had not only humiliated Roma but had dishonored the gods. He told us the Consul and the Collegia Pontificis had ordered a punishment. Or rather, received a Missive of the Gods, to be exact.”

“Decimation,” Appius said.

Lepidus stared at the console without seeing it, remembering that day. “A Missive of the Gods only comes when the gods make new technology and wisdom available to the Consul and the Collegia. They are rare these past generations. The gods were truly displeased.

“I had everyone in my cohort line up in formation, officers included, as the cohorts from the legions who had
not
dishonored themselves leveled their guns at us. I counted out each soldier, one to ten. I shot the tenth soldier in the head. Most cried and begged when I got to them. They were the easy ones, for they were the cause of the order. It was the honorable ones that were hard, the ones that stood their ground, their eyes forward as I put the gun to their head and pulled the trigger. I couldn't have been more proud of
them
.”

Lepidus sighed. “My wife accepted her fate that way.”

Appius was quiet, then said, “Sir...?”

“My wife's number turned out to be ten.” Lepidus chuckled. “I’ll bet Fortuna got a laugh out of that, eh? I admit I hesitated when I got to her. But she looked at me, her chin raised, and she gave me a quick nod. She knew what I had to do. She was a soldier and a patriot. I loved her more in that moment than I had in the five years we'd been married. I pulled the trigger and sent her to her honorable reward in Elysium.”

“Evocatus...I don't know what to say.”

Lepidus turned to Appius. “Why the pity, Appius? The decimation worked. The gods were pleased. We took Kaldeth. Granted, we did not take it in the pristine condition we had hoped. The Kaldethians had to pay
some
price for Caan. I have no doubt my wife's sacrifice, her honorable death and her advocacy for our cause in the afterlife, is what brought the gods back to our favor.”

Lepidus turned back to the console. Ocella was stationary in a different part of the Temple now. Likely eating her meager dinner.

“I am a pious man,” Lepidus said, “but the gods have revealed to the Pontifex Maximus that Marcus Antonius Cordus may be a traitor. If he is, my duty is to kill the traitor. Even if he is the Consul's son.”