by Rob Steiner
Nestor Samaras, the ship’s medicus, a Pantheon priest, and a committed Saturnist, frowned. The dark-haired Greek priest did not share Blaesus’s fantasies and, in fact, opposed a return to the Roman government’s old ways: rule by a single consul and a religious Collegia Pontificis, with a Senate that simply “advised” the rulers. Nestor had ancient Athenian ideas of democracy that were just as romantic as Blaesus’s. He hoped Roma would emerge from its civil war with a Liberti-style government that combined ancient Roman republicanism with Greek democracy. Cordus thought it was another fantasy, but he could always count on Nestor to oppose Blaesus when the topic of Cordus’s return to Roma came up.
“Unlike my Roman friend here,” Nestor said cautiously, “I hope your ambitions are limited to commanding a starship.”
“No other ambitions come to mind,” Cordus said.
He glanced at Kaeso, who was as blank-faced as ever. I know you think like Blaesus. That’s why you made me your second. You want me to get used to giving orders so I can fulfill my “destiny”. Well get used to disappointment.
“Can we get back to work?” asked Dariya, one of two engineers on the ship. She leaned against a bulkhead with an impatient expression. Daryush, the ship’s second engineer and Dariya’s twin brother, stood next to her. Daryush, a large man with a naturally bald head, stood with his hands in the pockets of his green jumpsuit looking from Dariya to Kaeso. Dariya and Daryush were Persians and former slaves to a wealthy Roman patrician. They escaped slavery and fled to the Lost Worlds. Kaeso hired them years ago as engineers on Vacuna. Daryush’s tongue had been cut out by his former Roman master, but Daryush was the most brilliant engineer Cordus had met during his brief time among the Lost Worlds.
Dariya, however, more than made up for her brother’s silence. She turned to Cordus. “‘Ush and I need to finish integrating that damned energy shield the Saturnists installed yesterday.” She looked past Cordus to Kaeso. “By the way, Centuriae, why does Vacuna have to be the test subject for Gaia Julius’s new toys?”
Kaeso shrugged. “We discovered the shield tech on Menota, so we get to test it. If it does what they say it does, it’ll make us indestructible in a fight.”
“Or implode us to the size of an atom,” Dariya grumbled, adding a Persian curse under her breath. She turned back to Cordus. “Do we have your leave, Trierarch?”
Cordus suppressed a grin at Dariya’s tact, or lack thereof. In the six years he’d known her, he came to realize she only spoke that way to people she trusted. She just ignored people she didn’t trust.
“I have nothing to say,” Cordus said. “Centuriae?”
Kaeso shook his head.
“Then you have leave to finish your engine prep.”
“His Highness is most kind,” she said, bowing deeply. Then she gave him a half-grin and left. Daryush, however, smiled broadly at Cordus and applauded softly. He then followed his sister to the engine room at the other end of the corridor.
Blaesus stood and put his hands on Cordus’s shoulders. “Ah, my boy, I remember when you first came to us. A twelve-year-old with big brown eyes, tousled black hair, and an infant’s naiveté about the universe outside Roma. How far you’ve come in just six short years. No doubt thanks to my tutoring.”
Nestor stood as well. “You mean despite your tutoring?”
Blaesus lifted his chin. “You wound me, Medicus. If not for me, Cordus here would have no knowledge of his Roman ancestry or the intricacies of Roman governance. Why he’d be just as ignorant of Roma’s contributions to humanity as the Lost World barbarians…present company excluded, of course.”
“Blaesus, you’re an arrogant fop,” Nestor said. “He can get that from his Muses.”
“Ah, but the Muses only give him memories of his ancestors’ exploits. Having someone else’s memories does not give one the skills used in those memories. Can you command Legions by simply reading the biography of Gaius Julius Caesar? I think not. Mastering the skills in those memories takes practice, which is what I gave him.”
Cordus held up his hands. “Gentlemen, as always, I find your debates enlightening, but right now I need to speak to the Centuriae alone.”
Nestor shrugged and left Cargo One. Blaesus wrapped his red scarf around his neck. “Trierarch, Centuriae, I’ll leave you to your conference. Besides, I need to study my latrunculi strategies before we get to Reantium. Aulus Tarpeius may be generous to host us at his villa, but he is most vicious across the latrunculi board. Why I can count on one hand the number of times I’ve defeated the man in the forty-two years I’ve known him. Did you know he—?”
“Blaesus,” Cordus said, “I really need to speak to the Centuriae.”
“Of course, sire. I was doing it again, wasn’t I?”
Cordus grinned.
“Very well, I will leave you without another word.”
Miraculously, Blaesus left Cargo One and closed the hatch without another word.
Before Cordus could speak, Kaeso said, “I made you trierarch because you’re ready for it. I didn’t tell you before now because I wanted to see how you reacted when I sprung it on you.”
“Did I pass the test?” Cordus asked.
Kaeso shrugged. “At least you pretended you knew all along. One of the first rules of leadership: Always act like you know what’s going on. Especially when you don’t.”
Kaeso proceeded to explain another point of leadership, but his voice faded from Cordus’s attention.
Marcus Antonius Primus stood behind Kaeso, his muscled arms folded. He stared at Cordus with preternatural blue eyes and wore a sideways grin. He had dark, curly hair and a well-trimmed beard. He wore the ancient Roman armor and scarlet cloak of a military commander. A gladius hung in a sheath from his left hip. His armor was dented and stained from multiple battles. Legends and Cordus’s Muse memories told him Marcus Antonius loved to wade into the thick of battle. But after the Muses infected him in Egypt, they had kept him back.
Only an alien virus could keep Marcus from doing what he loved.
“You listening, kid?”
Cordus swung his eyes back to Kaeso. “Leadership is hard, I get it,” Cordus said, using all his will to ignore the apparition of Marcus Antonius. “I still would rather have known before you announced it to the crew.”
Kaeso stared at Cordus, then slowly looked over his shoulder to where Marcus Antonius stood with folded arms. Cordus’s heart raced, and he thought Kaeso saw Marcus, but Kaeso turned back to Cordus with suspicious eyes.
He doesn’t see. Gods, I am going mad.
Marcus Antonius barked a laugh that echoed in the hold. Kaeso didn’t even flinch at the sound.
“Like I said,” Kaeso continued, “I wanted to test your reaction to a real situation with real consequences. Not some drill, but one where your world just changed and you had only moments to adapt.”
Oh, Kaeso, if you knew how my world was changing right now…
“And you get to pilot the ship,” Kaeso said with a slight grin. “Hope that doesn’t add more pressure.”
Sweat beaded in the center of Cordus’s back. “I’ve done it dozens of times. But Lucia will kick me out of her couch when she sees me—”
“I told Lucia before she left. She knows you’ll be Trierarch for the entire mission, not just the trip there.”
Cordus shook his head. “So you’ve planned this for over a month? What did Ocella say?”
Kaeso winced. “I…didn’t tell her. Deep down she knows you need to do this. I’ll deal with the consequences.”
“Well this should be a fun reunion.”
“Mmm. We leave in thirty minutes. Make sure everyone does their job, Trierarch.”
“Yes, Centuriae,” Cordus said. His voice sounded stiff, and he hoped Kaeso assumed it was the stress of his new responsibilities.
What else should he think? That I see my ancient ancestor’s ghost?
Cordus’s gaze swept the hold. “I want to make sure everything’s locked down here first.”<
br />
Kaeso nodded. “You’ll do fine, kid.”
Cordus gave Kaeso a reassuring smile, and then he started inspecting the cargo fastenings as Kaeso left the hold.
When the hatch closed, Cordus whirled around to Marcus Antonius. The ancient Roman unfolded his arms and walked straight toward Cordus. Cordus took an involuntary step back, but then stopped.
He’s not real. He can’t hurt me. Stop running, coward!
“We’re very real, young Antonius,” Marcus said, standing a single pace from Cordus. “Want to touch us?”
Cordus just watched Marcus, his breath quickening and the sweat dripping down his back. “Are you…from the Muses?”
Marcus laughed. “Obviously. What, did you think we were Marcus Antonius Primus come back to life? That man died long ago, and he was quite a bit more trouble than we bargained for. Did you know we had to infect him twice before we could control him? The first time, his body rejected us because he refused to listen when we told him to stop drinking wine. Clouds our senses, as you know. Our flamens injected him again, and after some adaptations on our part, we finally infected him. We’ve had no trouble infecting anyone since.” Marcus eyed Cordus with a wry smile. “Until you came along.”
“My Muses are creating this vision of you?”
“Young Antonius, ‘your Muses’ are standing before you. Only you can see us. It’s the only way we can talk to you now.”
“Why? Why can’t you just talk to me in my mind like you always did?”
Marcus shrugged. “You’re the first living being to control us. Nobody knows how this will work, not even us. You may have noticed our silence recently?”
Cordus nodded.
Marcus walked around the hold, inspecting the cargo containers. “That’s because your body and your brain are maturing. This one is loose.”
Cordus checked the floor clips on a container of pressure suit air canisters. Sure enough, the clips were not pushed all the way closed. Cordus went over, bent down, and fastened the clips.
Can you read my mind, too?
“Yes,” Marcus said, moving to another cargo container, “but like before, only if your questions are directed at us.”
Cordus couldn’t help but stare at Marcus. Though well muscled, he was a head shorter than today’s average human. The Muse-memories of Marcus’s days gave Cordus the impression Marcus was taller. In his day, he may have been taller than the average ancient human.
“Why didn’t you tell him you see us?” Marcus asked while checking another container.
“You know why.”
“Yes, yes,” Marcus said. “They say they trust you, but they don’t really trust you, eh? Afraid we’re going to reassert our control some day?”
Cordus watched Marcus. “Are you?”
Marcus walked back to Cordus with a grin. “We would if we could. Believe us, we have tried, but some things are beyond even our understanding.”
“What do you mean?”
Marcus shrugged and then sat upon a container. His armor clinked as he moved, and his sword banged against the container as he hopped up.
“Every species that has served us has presented us with challenges that forced us to evolve. Our strain alone has controlled nine different species over the course of millions of Terran years. Humanity’s individualist nature forced us to evolve to be compatible with your physiology.” Marcus’s eyes narrowed at Cordus. “You, young Antonius, are the first sentient being to control us, and we cannot figure out why. We evolve, we adapt, but you block us in every way…and you don’t even know you’re doing it.”
“So I’m blessed by the gods, like Nestor says?”
Marcus barked a laugh. “We know nothing of the existence, or non-existence, of your gods.”
“Then I suppose I’m just lucky.”
Marcus shrugged. “All life evolves. Perhaps you are a new path in the universe’s biological evolution. The ‘why’ of it doesn’t matter to us, though. We are your slaves and there’s nothing we can do about it.” Marcus bowed his head to Cordus. “That, at least, has not changed.”
When he was a child, Cordus guarded his thoughts as soon as he realized what the Muses were. Not only did Cordus grow up watching how the Muses controlled his family—from his father down to his brothers and sisters—but he had the memories of what they did from the moment they infected Marcus Antonius a thousand years ago. Cordus knew they were ruthless and would enslave him if given the opportunity.
But his memories also told him that while the Muses may be vicious, they never lied to their hosts. Even when those hosts were slaves, the Muses always told their hosts the truth.
Easy to do when you know you have control, he thought. The Muses never lied to the hosts they controlled for the same reason Cordus would never lie to a golem.
“Ah,” Marcus said, watching Cordus, “the gears are turning in your head, young Antonius. Should I trust this apparition, should I not? Should I tell my friends, should I not? Decisions abound!”
“Fine,” Cordus growled. “You seem eager to tell me what I should do. What would you do in my situation? If you are my slave, you will tell me the truth.”
Marcus raised an eyebrow. “We would have you do what you were born to do: lead and command. You have the wisdom of a thousand years in your mind. Use it to rule these people. Use physical qualities we give you to force them to—”
“No!” Cordus said, immediate disgust crawling in his stomach. “If you mean I should use your aura to take away the will of other human beings, like my ancestors did, then that is something I will never do. You know this.”
Marcus smiled, then jumped down from the cargo container and put a hand on Cordus’s shoulder. Cordus could feel the hand through his jump suit.
“Very well,” Marcus said, “may Fortuna be with you, young Antonius.”
Then he vanished.
Cordus exhaled sharply. No, I will not tell Kaeso about this.
He didn’t have the time or energy to work through this right now. He had trierarch duties to finish.
7
Cordus awoke from his delta sleep and checked the status displays on his pilot’s tabulari. Ship’s integrity was intact, systems nominal, and their location was what it should be: orbiting Reantium just outside the alpha way line event horizon.
They used alpha way lines rather than the instant travel of their quantum way line engines. The quantum engines were still a Saturnist and Umbra secret, so Vacuna only used them when traveling to remote locations. They’d have to answer awkward questions if the local way station saw them pop into existence far from a known way line.
The acrid smell of Nestor’s pre-way line sacrifice still hung in the air. Cordus was comforted by the scent. It meant he was alive and not mad from the jump.
“Way line jump successful,” Cordus reported to Kaeso, who sat in the command couch to his left. “All systems normal.”
“Very good, Trierarch,” Kaeso said.
Cordus glanced at the com on his tabulari. The Reantium Way Station should have hailed them by now. He scanned the com channels around the way station. Nothing. He checked the proximity sensors for any ships around the way station. While it was small compared to Liberti standards, there should have been some traffic.
But the local space was empty.
Cordus looked at Kaeso.
“Get a read on the way station itself,” Kaeso ordered.
Cordus gave a sharp exhale when the readings came through. The way station, a hollowed asteroid where starships docked, gave off no power signatures at all. It was a cold, dead rock.
“Take us into the atmosphere,” Kaeso said, after checking the scans.
“Yes, sir.”
Cordus entered the coordinates Blaesus had provided to the villa of Aulus Tarpeius. Tarpeius owned over 90,000 acres of farmland on Reantium, making him the largest landowner on the planet. Reantium had just gone through a bloody revolt against the Roman garrisons stationed there, but most battles had taken
place on the other side of the planet in the more populated areas. Tarpeius’s villa was remote, even for this planet, so his holdings had been unaffected.
At least they’d been unaffected as of his last com. So had the way station.
Tarpeius was a committed Saturnist, which somehow escaped Blaesus’s keen observation skills for the decades he knew Tarpeius. Cordus sent a sample of his blood to Tarpeius a year ago so his flamens could work on a Muse-detection device. In theory, it could detect the aura a Muse-infected human gave off, which was scentless to a human nose, and therefore Saturnists could know who was infected. A courier golem from Tarpeius had arrived on Caesar Nova three weeks ago saying the device was ready for testing. The original plan was for Vacuna to bring the device back to Caesar Nova and test it on Cordus. But now, since Cordus was coming along anyway, they would test it on him on Reantium.
“Piloting” the ship through the atmosphere was a matter of entering the correct coordinates and making sure the ship’s automated re-entry systems functioned normally. After that, Cordus could sit back and watch the view outside the command deck windows. Bright white plasma engulfed the ship as it collided with Reantium’s atmosphere. Cordus watched his tabulari as the ship’s inertial control and grav systems yielded to Reantium’s natural gravity field. This always made the ride into an atmosphere bumpier than it tended to be on more modern ships. Vacuna was state-of-the-art ninety years ago. Today, only the engineering skills of Dariya, Daryush, and to a lesser extent their Saturnist friends kept the ship flying.
The white plasma surrounding Vacuna dissipated, and the ship descended through the sparse clouds. Cordus checked his tabulari once again.
“Re-entry complete, ion engines engaged, altitude 60,000 feet,” Cordus reported to Kaeso. “Should land at Tarpeius holdings in twenty minutes.”
“Thank you, Trierarch,” Kaeso said. “And thank you for letting the ship fly.” He gave Cordus a small grin. “Lucia likes to fly it through the atmosphere. Makes for a bumpier ride. I hate it.”
“Why don’t you tell her?”
“Because it makes her feel in control of something that’s beyond her control.”
