Muses of Roma (Codex Antonius Book 1)

by Rob Steiner

  Kaeso shook his head. “What is so awful about the Muses that made you turn away from everything you believed in? They've made Libertus prosperous and safe. They lifted Roma and humanity from a muscle-powered civilization to one that lives among the stars.”

  “But it’s not real. We have all this technology and prosperity because of them. We did not discover it ourselves.”

  Kaeso shrugged. “Well again, so what? I can live with the fact we got a little help from the Muses. You haven't given me any reason to fear them.”

  “I thought the same way,” Ocella said. “I thought we should be thanking the Muses for what they did for us. Then Scaurus showed me ancient testimonies from infectees. When an infectee dies, whether it be from trauma or a disease or anything, the Muses die first, giving the infectee his mind back for only minutes before his death. Over the centuries, the Saturnists gathered these testimonies bit by bit and discovered what the Muses have planned for us. And it is something you should fear.”

  Lepidus accepted the binoculars from Appius and trained them on the dark townhouse across the Tiber River at the base of the Aventine. From the Trastevere, he saw two figures standing in the townhouse’s gathering room, their heat signatures glowing in bright reds, oranges, and yellows.

  “Are you sure they're not opium addicts?” Lepidus asked.

  “No, Evocatus,” Appius said.

  Lepidus frowned. The Borum Meats wagon was abandoned in the Murcia Tunnel under the Circus Maximus. Public lictors obtained street camera footage of all the vehicles that left the Tunnel minutes after the Borum wagon entered. The lictors were identifying every vehicle that left within thirty minutes of the wagon entering, but progress was slow.

  But by the grace of the gods, a lone street lictor on the Aventine noticed a red van stop two blocks from the townhouse Lepidus watched. A woman matching Gaia Julius's description had exited the van, along with two men and a boy, and then made their way down to the riverfront. The lictor notified his commander, who notified Lepidus.

  And here we are, Lepidus thought.

  “It couldn't hurt to question them, whoever they are,” Appius said.

  “I don't want to send in a Praetorian squad just to round up drug addicts,” Lepidus said. “We might tip off Julius if she's hiding nearby. Disguise your men as beggars and have them scout the area.”

  “Yes, sir,” Appius said. He took out his com pad, but it chimed before he could place his orders. Appius listened for several moments, then ended the call.

  “There’s something else, sir.”

  Lepidus continued watching the two figures. “What?”

  “Terra Way Station Control reports a ship of Liberti manufacture docked early this morning, but their credentials say they’re a Llahsa ship.”

  “Liberti exports cargo ships to all Lost Worlds. So?”

  “The ship is eighty years old, yet its manifest records only go back twenty. Under normal protocols, the Way Station checks back ten years. With wartime protocols, however, they check thirty. They thought we should know this ship is missing its first ten years.”

  Lost World centuriae were notoriously poor record keepers, unlike professional and meticulous Roman centuriae. They traded, sold, and gambled away their ships all the time, usually without giving the new owner past manifests. This ship was likely one of those.

  Or it could be Ocella's escape.

  “Tell Way Station Control to send crew profiles and to maintain a discrete surveillance on the ship. Have any crew members left?”

  “Two.”

  “Get their pictures and give them to your recon team. Wouldn't it be interesting if they were in that house?”

  Appius smiled. “Yes, sir.”

  “Oh, any word from Lord Admiral Cocceius?”

  Appius shook his head. “The courier ship should have arrived at the siege fleet four hours ago. Won’t be long now.”

  “Good. Get up there now. Fortuna be with you.”

  “And you, Evocatus.” Appius took out his com pad again and relayed Lepidus's instructions to his recon team as he strode toward the waiting flyer.

  Lepidus brought the binoculars up to his eyes again and watched the two figures in the house. His job was about paying attention to the feelings the gods gave him. He had no evidence Gaia Julius was in that house across the river. Nothing proved the Llahsa ship docked at the Way Station was there to pick up Ocella.

  But he had faith the gods were with him tonight. He could feel it.

  39

  “There,” Lucia said, pointing to the security guard on her tabulari display. He wore civilian clothes and sat at a table outside the tavern across from Caduceus’s dock hatch.

  Blaesus squinted at the display.

  “And here’s the guard from an hour ago,” Lucia said. She brought up a split screen. One side showed the guard now, while the other showed the same guard two hours ago in his Way Station Security uniform, patrolling the corridor in front of the hatch. The guard’s face wasn’t clear, but she recognized his posture.

  “I don't know, my dear,” Blaesus said, studying one side of the display and then the other. “I suppose it could be the same man...”

  “It is the same man,” Lucia said. “Your eyes are old.”

  Blaesus looked wounded. “Maybe it’s the end of his shift and he likes that tavern. Maybe he's trying seduce the barmaid.”

  Lucia shook her head. “They’re watching us.”

  Blaesus sighed. “Maybe, but we can't leave Kaeso and Nestor behind. If they have us under surveillance, then Kaeso and Nestor are in danger.”

  “I know.”

  He looked at her. “Should we contact them?”

  “You know we can’t.”

  Kaeso gave strict orders to maintain com silence, since the Romans could track their com signal to him on Terra. But she had to tell Kaeso somehow that the ship was being watched. If he came back with the boy, they’d stop him for sure.

  The man in the tavern stood up from his table and strode toward the hatch. As he neared the hatch, a squad of way station security rushed into the camera angle wearing flak vests, black helmets, and pulse rifles held ready.

  Blaesus groaned. “Oh…”

  “Cac!” Lucia yelled, then lunged for the connector controls and closed the ship’s hatch. Blaesus jumped into the command couch to Lucia's left.

  “Are we leaving?” Blaesus said as he strapped himself in.

  “If we can.”

  She entered the commands to retract the connector, but they didn’t respond. She cursed again. Only the way station could retract the connector once the ship docked. When she hit the controls again, the com panel lit up.

  “Caduceus, this is Terra Way Station Control,” the Roman controller said. “You are ordered to power down your engines and prepare for boarding.”

  Lucia growled, “You can stick your orders—”

  “They're through the outer hatch!” Blaesus shouted.

  Lucia glanced at the camera feed on her panel. The security team had opened the locked hatch on the way station and was inside the connector working on Caduceus's hatch.

  “Daryush,” Lucia yelled into her collar com, “get the way line engines spooled up, now!”

  He replied with a grunt, which she hoped meant he was on it.

  Lucia fired the ion thrusters. If they couldn't disconnect from the tube she would tear the ship away and send the whole godsdamned security team into space.

  “Lucia,” Blaesus breathed, staring at the outside sensors.

  Lucia looked at her panel. Two Roman Eagles floated less than a half mile from Caduceus.

  “Caduceus, stand down,” the Way Station Control said again. “If you try to run, you will be destroyed.”

  Even if she managed to tear the ship away from the connector, she'd never make it past two Eagles. They'd turn the ship to plasma before she made it a mile from the way station.

  “Caduceus, acknowledge or we will fire.”

  “It's over
, my dear,” Blaesus said quietly.

  She glared at him. “It's not over.”

  The old Senator's eyes widened as she reached for her controls, but she entered the commands to turn off the thrusters. She tapped her collar com and said, “Daryush, power down the way line engines.”

  “What now?” Blaesus asked.

  A siren warbled throughout the ship. Lucia looked at her display. The security squad had bypassed the ship's locks and opened the outer hatch. They rushed into the ship with their pulse rifles against their cheeks.

  Lucia turned to Blaesus. “They’ll do everything they can to make us talk.”

  Blaesus swallowed. His pale skin turned even sicklier.

  “Everybody breaks,” she said, “but hold out as long as you can. Kaeso and Nestor might still be alive. They might still get away.”

  Blaesus gave her a wan smile. “I was a Senator, my dear. I can talk for hours without saying anything.”

  Lucia nodded. “There's still a chance we can... If you can get away without me or Daryush, do it. I’ll do the same.”

  Blaesus licked his lips. “May the gods—”

  “Command deck,” barked a voice from the ladder tube behind them. “Come down slowly. You have ten seconds before we toss in flak grenades.”

  Lucia closed her eyes. She reached down beneath her couch and put her hand on the pulse pistol strapped there. She swore to herself the Romans would never take her. She knew what they did to deserters—she was assigned crucifixion and flogging duty many times—and told herself a quick death would take her first.

  But now, faced with that choice, she found she was a coward.

  She let go of the pulse pistol.

  “Five seconds,” the voice yelled.

  Blaesus stood. “Let's go, Lucia.”

  She unbuckled herself from the pilot's couch and went to the ladder tube.

  “We're coming down,” she said, then climbed down the ladder with Blaesus behind.

  Three men in black helmets stood at the base of the ladder, two with their pulse rifles pointed at Lucia, the third with his rifle trained on Daryush. The terrified Persian knelt on the floor with his hands on his head. She stepped down, and put her hands on her head. Behind the security guards was the blond-haired man she'd seen in the tavern across from the ship. He held up a com pad, looking from the pad to Lucia. When Blaesus came down, he did the same thing.

  The man returned the com pad back to his vest. “Are you Lucia Marius Calida and Gaius Octavius Blaesus?” he asked with a patrician Latin accent.

  Lucia and Blaesus remained silent.

  The man frowned. “No matter. I think you're the people I want.”

  He took a pulse pistol from his vest and shot the first two guards in the back of the head. Their heads exploded in a spray of blood, tissue, and plastic. The third guard turned, but the blond man shot him in the face, the remains of his head splattering on the walls.

  Lucia stared in shock.

  The man put his pistol back in his vest. “I assume you want to leave?”

  She didn’t move. She felt her jaw gaping, but was too stunned to close it.

  “Close your mouth and get to the command deck. Engineer,” the blond man said to Daryush, “back to your post and ready your engines.”

  Daryush nodded, his face screwed as if waiting to be shot. He stepped around the bodies on the floor without glancing at them and went down the ladder to the engine deck.

  “Who are you?” Lucia finally managed to ask.

  “Get up there and I'll explain. You, too, Senator.”

  Blaesus lunged for the ladder and climbed as fast as his old legs could carry him. Lucia went next, followed by the blond man.

  Once on the command deck, the blond man pushed past Lucia and tapped the com panel on her pilot's tabulari.

  “Way Station Control this is the Centurion of Praetorian Guard Unit 202,” he said. “The ship is secure. Stand down your patrol Eagles and recall the men in the connector.”

  “Acknowledged, Centurion,” Control said.

  “By authority of the Praetorian Guard,” the man said, “I’m taking command of this ship and transferring it to a guarded facility on Terra. You will erase all records of this incident, as it is red level security status. Authorization code 988-89-WSW. Acknowledge, Control.”

  Control paused for a long time. Lucia watched the blond man. He stood before the com panel with a serene expression, despite flecks of blood on his face and light brown vest.

  “Authorization accepted, Centurion,” Control said. “You have the ship. We’re clearing a flight path for you. Do you need an escort?”

  “Negative, Control,” the man said. “Your Eagles are not authorized to know the coordinates of the Praetorian facility.”

  Control paused again. “Will Unit 202 accompany you?”

  “Yes,” the man said without hesitating. “They will guard the prisoners until I reach the surface. They’ll come back on the next shuttle.”

  “Very good, Centurion. Your flight path is cleared. You can undock at anytime.”

  The man turned to Lucia. “The ship is yours to fly, Legionnaire.”

  Lucia stepped into the pilot's couch and strapped herself in. The blond man went to the command couch, and told Blaesus, who continued to stand in the back slack-jawed, to take the delta controller's couch. Blaesus complied.

  “Undocking from way station,” Lucia announced. Once the ship cleared the connector, she checked the flight path the way station gave them. It took them right into Roma.

  “Where do we go once we get to Roma?” Lucia asked, setting the flight coordinates into Caduceus's nav port.

  “I'll let you know,” the man said.

  Lucia eyed him. The man tapped the command tabulari, reviewing the ships in the area. She had the sudden urge to throw him out of Kaeso's post.

  “Who are you?” she asked again.

  He continued to tap at the tabulari. “Someone who just threw his life away for you. So I’d appreciate some gratitude in your tone.” He raised his eyes to her and said, “My name is Gnaeus Hortensius Appius. I'm a Praetorian Guardsman, and a Liberti agent.”

  Lucia blinked. When she didn't say anything, Appius asked, “Where's your tongue, soldier?”

  She studied him, then asked, “Are you with Umbra?”

  Appius raised an eyebrow. “What’s ‘Umbra’?”

  Of course he wouldn’t say if he was. Damned Liberti and their secrets. “How did you get past the tests, the security checks, the—”

  “I did, and we'll leave it at that,” Appius said, watching Kaeso's tabulari. “All you need to know now is this ruse won’t last long. Way Station Control will eventually double-check my codes with the Praetorian Guard, and the Guard will say they issued no such order.”

  “How long do we have?”

  “Less than an hour. What kind of beacon does this ship have?”

  “Same one it had out of the docks.”

  Appius smiled. “Good. This bucket's age might just save your lives.”

  Blaesus said, “Ship beacons can’t be altered.”

  “The newer ones can’t,” Appius said, moving some sliders on his tabulari, “but the old ones can, if you know how.”

  “I suppose you do, Praetorian?” Blaesus said.

  Appius nodded, still searching the tabulari. “Among the first things they teach us in our sabotage courses.”

  Lucia asked, “So you can change Caduceus's beacon. Then what? We still can’t get off the planet without landing records. Roman flight controls are strict.”

  “Only applies to private or commercial traffic. Praetorian beacons are a different matter.”

  Lucia checked her tabulari. Appius scanned the way line plasma conduit specs, and paused on Umbra’s modifications. His eyes widened slightly, but he kept scrolling.

  “How will you give us a Praetorian beacon?” she asked.

  Appius focused on a schematic showing where the plasma way line conduit interse
cted the communications conduit.

  “Watch,” Appius said.

  Appius sent a surge of way line plasma into the plasma conduit. Lucia watched the surge drive up the power overload indicators to dangerous levels. A siren warbled from her tabulari.

  “You're going to slag our com! Shut it down!”

  “Wait,” Appius said as the indicators continued rising.

  “If you slag our com, we can’t replace it,” Lucia said. When he didn't respond, she said, “I'm shutting it down.”

  Appius pulled his gun and aimed it at her. “I said, wait.”

  Lucia froze. He was fast. She’d never get to the pistol under her couch before he killed her. She ground her teeth, clenched her fists, and watched the overload indicators rise to maximum levels.

  But before they hit catastrophic levels, the communications conduit overloaded and then shut down. When that happened, Appius reversed the plasma flow, and it fell back down to normal levels. Lucia checked the communications conduit and saw ship's com still functioned. She sighed. Then she noticed the beacon signal was silent. A window popped up on her display saying the beacon was disabled due to a power surge, and it needed resetting.

  She understood.

  “A power surge in the com conduit resets the beacon?” she said.

  Appius nodded, putting the pistol back in his vest. “Simple in concept, but tricky to implement. Timing has to be perfect, or, as you said, you slag the com system. And now a new Praetorian beacon code”—he tapped the keys on his tabulari—“makes us a covert Praetorian freighter with a commercial cover beacon. Your ship's new name is Vacuna. The way station won't bother us when we take off again.”

  “You're sure this will work?” Lucia asked. “Won't Way Station Control think it odd that our beacon changed mid-flight?”

  “No, because they took us off their sensors once I gave them Praetorian authorization codes. Officially we no longer exist. They cleared a flight path for us so no ships would wander into our trajectory.”

  Blaesus said, “Won’t other ships in the area see the change on their sensors?”

  “Maybe, if they were looking at us the moment we changed. They don’t know this trick is possible, though, so they’ll think it’s a glitch in their sensors. I’ve done this many times on other worlds.”