Muses of Terra (Codex Antonius Book 2)

by Rob Steiner

  The holo image above the floating disc flickered and then solidified. It was an image viewed from the perspective of the octopods. It showed what appeared to be an engine room with serpentine pipes of all sizes and colors weaving around each other. Large banks of tabulari sat at one side of the room.

  But it was the aliens that made Ocella freeze. There were dozens inside the room. Several brought up hand weapons and fired at the octopods, which quickly closed the hatch and ran back down the dark corridor.

  All the aliens had looked like Lucia.

  30

  The Liberti gold mining colony was built below the surface of a moon called Lucubro, which orbited just above the icy rings of the Libertus system’s lone gas giant, Cerberus. The only indications of its existence were the moon’s beacon on Cordus’s tabulari and the landing lights upon the moon’s black, rocky surface.

  That and the hundreds of refugee ships orbiting the moon. There were so many that Cordus could easily see their running lights with his own eyes. Ships of every size and configuration flew in a one-way orbit around Lucubro, awaiting their turn to land and receive either medical attention or supplies. There were other colonies across the Libertus system, but this was the closest to Libertus Primus.

  The former Libertus Primus, Cordus thought. With the death of the first one, Lucubro was the now largest human settlement in the system, and therefore, Cordus supposed, deserving of the title “Primus”.

  “Vacuna, Lucubro control,” announced a tired-sounding controller. “Proceed to the coordinates I’m forwarding to you now.”

  “Any word on when we can land?” Cordus asked. “We have an injured man who’s dying—”

  “You’ll receive landing instructions when it’s your turn,” the controller said. He sounded like he had explained this hundreds of times before.

  “Hours? Days? Please, my crewman could die if he doesn’t get medical—”

  “Days, Vacuna. I’m sorry. Lucubro control, out.”

  “Cac,” Cordus swore, then terminated the connection.

  From the pilot’s couch next to him, Aquilina said, “You could tell them you’ve worked with Umbra. I’m sure that would get their attention.”

  She was still strapped into the couch, but Cordus had loosened the straps a bit to let her shift her body and avoid cramps. He doubted she’d have any trouble escaping the straps if she wanted to, but it would take some effort, and he’d have a pulse pistol aimed at her before she got too far.

  “Assuming they even knew what Umbra is,” Cordus said. “Umbra is still an organization that will literally kill you for saying its name out loud.”

  “Do you really think they can do that now?”

  Cordus was silent. He had no idea what was left of Umbra Corps. Had some elements survived? Likely, since Umbra Ancilia were spread throughout the human universe.

  But what kind of leadership existed? Did they influence the remnants of the Liberti government? Cordus had tapped into the system bands for news and had learned that “elements” of the Liberti government had fled to Lucubro, but he had no idea which “elements”. Were they from the consular levels, senators, or bureaucrats from the sewer magisterium? How much control did they actually have?

  The bands said surviving units of the Liberti Defense Force were searching for survivors. But every survivor they’d found was from a short-range shuttle that had escaped the planet before the alien toxin had taken full effect.

  They detected no survivors on the planet. In fact, no life could be found anywhere, not even plant life.

  Aquilina said, “A Roman medicus team could help Blaesus.”

  Cordus snorted. “Yes, just before they arrest him for violating his exile. And then arrest Dariya and Daryush as escaped slaves. Then arrest me. No thanks, we’ll wait here.”

  But Cordus was desperate. He had visited Blaesus a half hour ago, and the old Senator did not look good. It seemed his efforts in reprogramming the delta systems had weakened him. His wound was festering, he was feverish, and he could barely talk. Cordus had awoken Ulpius from delta sleep—the Roman centurion had cursed at the turn of events—to look at Blaesus while Dariya kept a pulse pistol aimed at him. Cordus didn’t need Ulpius to voice the situation’s severity. His grim face had told Cordus everything.

  “The infection is spreading,” Ulpius had told Cordus outside Blaesus’s room. “I pumped every antibiotic into him this bucket of a ship has, but they ain’t making a dent. He will die in two days if he doesn’t get something stronger.”

  Cordus had wanted to try Lucubro, hoping the gods would grant him a miracle despite every indication the moon would be flooded with wounded, desperate people. But denying his own intelligence had cost them more time Blaesus didn’t have. They would have to fly to another Liberti colony, but it would take days with just their ion engines. They would need the quantum way line engines to get anywhere quickly, and Aquilina still refused to give him the codes unless he agreed to return to Roma.

  Aquilina’s voice brought him back to the present. “You’re the Consular Heir. If you declare yourself, you could pardon them.”

  Marcus Antonius appeared in his usual spot in the delta couch behind Cordus. “She speaks the truth, young Antonius. People will jump to follow your orders. It’s one of the perks of being a god.”

  I’m not a god, and neither were you.

  “True. But if people think you are, isn’t that just as well?”

  Cordus turned to Aquilina. “You’re killing Blaesus by not giving me those codes.”

  “No,” she growled, “you are killing him. Along with billions of Romans because you’re too selfish to take on your responsibilities. If you unite the Republic, we can defeat these alien demons and save lives.”

  She paused, and then said in a calmer voice, “You’re afraid. Gods, I wouldn’t want to be consul either. I know how crushing the responsibility is just by watching my mother attempt it as dictator. But if you want to save your friends—all of your friends—not to mention several billion human beings, you must go to Roma and declare yourself. It is the only way.”

  It can’t be the only way, Cordus screamed in his mind.

  Marcus was suspiciously quiet behind him, and Cordus almost wanted to turn around to see if he was still there.

  “We’re still here, young Antonius,” Marcus said softly.

  I…I don’t know what to do…

  Marcus sighed. “You know what we want, so we won’t pretend to be an impartial judge here. But the promises you make now can be broken later.”

  Save Blaesus, but sacrifice my honor?

  “Or save your honor and sacrifice Blaesus. You may not like those choices, but there they are.”

  Oh, Kaeso, how did you make these command decisions look so easy?

  Marcus chuckled. “If your Kaeso is like every other human commander in history, then the decisions were never easy. He made a decision because he had to make one, all the while praying to the gods he made the right one. And then forever after, he either felt the guilt of making the wrong decision or relief that Fortuna was with him. So many humans credit the gods for their successes, but are quick to whip themselves over their failures.”

  So what do I do when all decisions are the wrong ones?

  Cordus couldn’t see Marcus, but he could sense the Muse-image shrug. “Make one that’s less wrong.”

  Less wrong?

  “Marcus Antonius Primus was not the most eloquent man, but he was decisive.”

  It was one trait Cordus admired about his ancestor. And it was one trait he desperately needed now.

  He sighed. I suppose I can’t wait for the gift of such a trait.

  He could sense Marcus’s smile.

  Cordus turned to Aquilina. “We will go to Roma, and you will get the Dictator’s own medicus team to heal Blaesus. After he is recovering…I will declare myself.”

  A slow smile spread across Aquilina’s face. “Very good, sire.”

  Cordus shuddered, then growl
ed, “I’m not the consul now, so call me ‘Centuriae’ or ‘Cordus’.”

  Aquilina laughed. It seemed genuine and made Cordus’s heart flutter. In a throaty voice, she said, “Very good, Cordus.”

  31

  The corridor through which the octopods led them was octagonal in shape, six feet wide, and covered in a black, spongy material. Each flat surface had what looked like ladder rungs. Ocella wondered about the rungs until she saw the octopods use them. Each one leaped up to the rungs on the ceiling and then swung from rung to rung like monkeys in a jungle. It enabled them to almost fly down the corridor and forced the humans to jog to keep up.

  Kaeso cursed many times as he struck his head on a rung. He was over six feet tall, so he had to run in a crouch to avoid the rungs. Varo was a foot shorter than Kaeso, but with a stocky build—a symptom of growing up on a planet with a relatively high gravity—so he had no trouble jogging in an upright position. However, he couldn’t breathe well through his crooked and blood-clotted nose, as each breath came in gasps and nasal wheezes. Claudia, in front of Ocella and immediately behind the octopods, had no trouble keeping up. In fact, her golem body helped her run at a steady pace while she barely breathed heavy.

  “Claudia would have been amazed at what I can do,” the golem remarked without missing a stride. “She was not one for exercising. Did Umbra make you this strong?”

  “Not like you,” Ocella gasped. “Could you ask them to stop for a rest or at least slow down?”

  Claudia gave her an apologetic glance. “Oh, of course. Sorry.”

  She stared at the octopods a moment. They hooted and whistled, and then all stopped. They dropped to the spongy floor and skittered back to the humans. The golem octopod went to Claudia, while the others stood on four tentacles, their upper four in the same splayed formation as when the humans found them. Ocella sat down and leaned her back against the soft wall, her chest heaving. Varo and Kaeso also leaned against the wall while sweat poured down their faces.

  The octopods were still wary around the humans, which was understandable—Ocella felt wary around them. They were so strange. They were a pace tall when standing on all eight tentacles, but were as tall as Varo while swinging from the rungs. The four ‘fingers’ at the end of each tentacle would look human if they weren’t all gray and had an extra joint. Ocella had first thought they were naked, but quickly noticed that each wore a gray, form-fitting fabric around their bulbous heads that matched their skin. She wondered if the lack of color anywhere on them meant they were colorblind. Their glassy, black eyes blinked occasionally, and their beaked mouths looked strong enough to tear through flesh and bone. And when she got close to them, she caught the faint scent of that awful stench from the octopod breeding room.

  But with all their strangeness, she tried to appreciate the fact that she was looking at a living, intelligent alien species, perhaps the first one any human had ever met face to face. Yes, the Muses were intelligent, but few humans knew they existed. And when most people imagined aliens, they thought of ones they didn’t need a microscope to see.

  Judging by the condition in which they had found this ancient vessel, Ocella wondered if these octopods were the last of their species. Had they been kidnapped like they said and then put into the vessel’s blue ovals? Had their species been wiped out millennia ago? Was that what the vessel had planned for humanity?

  Ocella felt as if she were flailing, that she was reacting to what happened to her rather than coming up with an actionable escape plan. Running through this corridor and the Vestal-numina act she put on with Kaeso were just attempts to do something, but without an end goal in mind. She had to have faith that sooner or later these vessel Muses had to make a mistake. And then they’d be ready.

  Her thoughts turned to Cordus as they did every other minute. Had he survived Reantium? What was he doing now? She prayed he had done the sensible thing and returned to Caesar Nova, not Libertus like Kaeso had suggested.

  But if he was the stubborn Cordus she knew, he was doing something stupid to try and rescue her and Kaeso, likely egged on by Blaesus and Dariya. She almost smiled at the thought of Blaesus reciting a speech to Cordus from some past senator extolling the virtues of Roman bravery and honor. Dariya would have rolled her eyes and spent three seconds telling Cordus something like, “They are our friends, so we go.” Nestor would have—

  Her stomach twisted. Nestor and Lucia. Both gone.

  Ocella looked at Kaeso sitting on the floor with his eyes closed. He had kept his distance from the group during their jog through the octopod-sized corridor, but never too far. She couldn’t imagine what he must be going through now. Lucia had been his pilot for almost ten years and Nestor the closest thing to an advisor he’d allow himself to have. They were part of the family he had adopted after he left Umbra. The family that replaced the one he had abandoned.

  Now Nestor and Lucia were dead. She desperately wanted to go to him, talk to him. Not only did she want to comfort him, but she needed his comfort as well.

  But their Vestal-numina act had to be maintained for now, and it was one of the things Ocella found most unbearable about this godsdamned vessel.

  As if he could sense her thoughts, Kaeso opened his eyes and looked at her. They stared at each other without expression, their eye contact conveying emotions their act would not allow.

  Claudia passed Ocella, breaking her gaze with Kaeso. Claudia stopped before Kaeso and seemed about to say something, but then turned around.

  “What?” Kaeso said. He didn’t look up at her, only stared down the corridor.

  She stopped, still struggling, but finally said, “She forgave you.”

  Kaeso didn’t react.

  “Well, not at first, but eventually. When you…died, it took her a long time to forgive herself because she thought she caused it. I know how silly that sounds, but I was—er, she was a child. Then you showed up on Libertus six years ago…”

  Kaeso’s eyes narrowed, but he still wouldn’t look at Claudia. Before he went to Libertus, he had assumed Umbra’s facial augmentation would have masked his old self from Claudia. Claudia’s suspicions came as a shock to Ocella as well, since her face no longer looked like the one she had before she joined Umbra.

  “She never knew for sure, of course,” Claudia continued, “but she suspected. Like I said before, you have her son’s eyes.” Her voice caught, and she paused as she tried to keep herself from crying.

  This time, Kaeso blinked once, and his jaw clenched. Yet he still wouldn’t look at her.

  She calmed herself, and then said, “Anyway, I just wanted you to know that she forgave you.”

  Claudia waited for him to say something, but he just stared down the corridor.

  She frowned, then turned to Ocella. “I think they want to get moving. This corridor makes them uneasy. They say it’s too long.”

  Varo grunted. “Glad we’re not the only ones who think so.”

  Ocella nodded, then stood. She looked back at Kaeso, who sat motionless. She crouched down and put her hand on his. He flinched and then looked at her with glistening eyes. Ocella could not tell if it was the corridor’s strange light or if Claudia’s words had affected him.

  He stood without saying a word. He gave her hand a squeeze before pulling away.

  “Golem,” Kaeso called out.

  Ocella tensed. Claudia glanced back from her position behind the octopods and watched Kaeso approach her. Though she seemed to pale the closer he got, she didn’t back away from him.

  “I would know more about my daughter,” he said. “If you would tell me.”

  Relief spread across Claudia’s face. “I would like that very much. I have so much to—”

  “No,” Kaeso said coldly. “You are not Claudia. You are a golem with her memories. As long as you remember that, we’ll get along fine. Do you understand?”

  Claudia’s reaction couldn’t have been more pained if Kaeso had punched her. “I understand,” she whispered.

 
; The octopod golem behind Claudia whistled and cooed. She turned around, wiping her eyes with her sleeve, and nodded. All five octopods leaped to the hand rungs on the ceiling and began their swinging sprint down the corridor.

  As they jogged, Kaeso asked the golem about the real Claudia’s childhood in a cold, clinical voice. The golem answered in the same tone without looking at him.

  Oh, Kaeso, Ocella thought as she jogged behind them. How can you listen to that voice and look on that face—the voice and face of your daughter—and still be such a cold bastard?

  32

  Cordus had always thought it ironic that his last memory of Roma was its sewers.

  He had been a scared child fleeing for his life with Kaeso and Ocella through the ancient Cloaca Maxima beneath the streets of Roma. The Praetorians chasing them had filled the dank, water-filled tunnels with a gas that had knocked him out. When he awoke, they were in a Praetorian facility on Terra’s south pole, from which they eventually escaped to space.

  Now, he was about to return to Roma. He had vowed it would never happen, but here he was.

  Vacuna came out of the quantum jump near the alpha way line above Terra. Cordus expected startled queries from the Terra Way Station, but the com was silent. He gave Aquilina a questioning look. She sat in the command couch, unrestrained. He had released her, along with her Roman team, once he agreed to come back. He was giving them what they wanted, so he didn’t see the point in keeping them prisoner.

  Aquilina tapped the back of her head behind her right ear. “I told them we were coming. You should have a clear flight path to Roma.”

  “We’re not docking at the way station?”

  “You want Blaesus to have the best and quickest medical care possible, right?” Aquilina said.

  Cordus wanted to take back his question as soon as he uttered it. It was the centuriae in him speaking. Docking at a way station, per standard procedure, meant disembarking with Blaesus on a stretcher and rushing him to the way station’s nearest medicus. While the facilities on the Terra Way Station were good, they were no match for the Roman Dictator’s own team.