“Is that you, Captain?” said Olson’s voice in his ear.
“It’s me,” said Jason. The soldiers were not close enough to hear Jason over the surf. “I’m tied up, along with Gutierrez, Pirelli and Nichols. Creed is dead. Don’t see any of the others.”
“Jesus.”
“What’s the status on Freedom?”
“We’ve got a bit of a situation, Captain.”
“The women didn’t make it aboard?” The pain in Jason’s head was momentarily overwhelmed by despair as he considered the possibility that they had failed even in saving the Jewish refugees.
“They made it, Captain. All two hundred of them. But we’ve got some other guests as well. While you were occupied with the main body of the legion, a group apparently broke off farther up the beach to the north. They commandeered several boats and got to Freedom while we were still bringing refugees aboard. They surprised us, sir. Forced their way onto the ship. Schwartz was so busy trying to keep the fishermen from fleeing to the south that she didn’t even notice them until it was too late.”
“Holy hell, Olson,” Jason groaned. “You’re telling me you’ve been boarded by Roman soldiers?” He resisted the urge to sit up to get a look at Freedom.
“Yes, sir. It’s not as bad as it sounds, though. They’re confined to the colonist areas. We still have control of the ship.”
“Then we have a ship-wide hostage situation.”
“The colonists and refugees are isolated on the garden deck. The elevators are disabled, and the doors between decks are all locked.”
“How many Romans are we talking about?”
“So far? Around fifty.”
“So far?”
“They’re still boarding, sir. Schwartz says there are at least ten more boats on the way.”
“Where is Schwartz now?”
“Still atop the ship, sir. I told her to hold her fire rather than reveal her position. There are too many of them for her to take on alone anyway. I don’t think the Romans know she’s up there. They banged on the door to the bridge level for a while, but couldn’t get through it, so they’re working their way down. Looks like they’ve got control of three levels.”
“You can’t close the hatch?”
“They’ve got it wedged open somehow, sir. Both the inner and outer doors. We tried locking some of the interior doors, but they just hack through them with axes. The bridges between levels give them a little more trouble, but they’ve learned to pry them open.”
Jason closed his eyes, trying to concentrate. The doors in the colonist area were lightweight; they were designed to provide a modicum of privacy, not to withstand battering. The doors to the bridge, engine room and all the other sensitive areas were reinforced with carbon steel. It would take a hundred years to bash through them with iron axes. The doors between levels were strong, but they were designed to stand up to extreme pressure, not attempts to pry them open.
“Are the colonists all right?”
“Yes, sir. We’ve got eyes on the garden deck, and everyone is unhurt and accounted for.”
Jason heard a snap, and he turned his head to see the flag of the Ninth Legion billowing in the breeze. The Ninth Legion, thought Jason. He had read about the Jewish rebellion before they had landed in Syria, but the historical record was unclear on exactly what Roman forces were deployed to the area and when. On top of that, there were so many Roman legions (sometimes two with the same number!) that they were difficult to keep straight. There was something important about the Ninth Legion, but he couldn’t remember what it was. “Can you patch me through to Lauren Foley?”
“If she’s got her personal comm on her, sir.”
“Stand by,” said Jason. “I’ve got to go silent for now.”
“Copy that, sir. Good luck.”
A young Roman officer, flanked by two soldiers, had approached. “You are the leader?” asked the officer in Latin. How he knew this Jason couldn’t begin to guess.
“I am the leader,” he acknowledged.
The officer made a motion, and the two men lunged forward and hauled Jason roughly to his feet. The officer walked away, and the men half-dragged Jason after him. They went fifty paces or so inland to a small tent. Jason was dragged inside and tied to a stake in the sand so he was forced to sit crouched over. The officer stood before him, while the two soldiers stood just inside the tent door.
“I am Flavius Decius, Tribunus Laticlavius of Legio IX Hispana,” said the officer. “You will answer my questions. You speak Latin?”
“A little,” said Jason. He struggled to remember how Roman Legions were organized. The legion commander was the Legatus Legionis. The tribunes were of slightly lower rank. Laticlavius meant broad band, which was superior to angusticlavius, or narrow band. So this man was perhaps second in charge of the legion? Where, then, was the commander?
The man asked him a question in a language Jason did not recognize, then tried a third language, which sounded something like German. Seeing no understanding in Jason’s eyes, he switched back to Latin. “Who are you?”
“I am Captain Jason of ship Freedom,” he said.
“Where is your ship?” He spoke slowly and clearly.
Jason nodded toward the opening of the tent, which faced the sea.
“Your ship is at sea?”
Not knowing how to answer this, Jason remained silent.
“You are a Jew?”
“No.”
“You take Jewish women as slaves?”
“No. Save women.”
Decius asked a complicated question, which Jason took to mean something like “By what right do you build a tower in Judaea?”
“Not a tower,” Jason said. “Ship.”
Decius sighed and spoke a brief command to the men at the door. The men took up positions on either side of Jason. Each seized one of his arms and held it tight. Decius stepped forward, having produced a small dagger. He spoke a word to the man holding Jason’s left hand, and the man pulled Jason’s arm straight. He clutched Jason’s hand tightly, straightening his little finger. Decius stepped toward Jason, took hold of his little finger with his left hand, and then carefully inserted the tip of the dagger beneath his fingernail. Jason screamed until his breath was used up, but the pain continued as the dagger sliced deeper and deeper into the soft flesh of his finger. At last Decius withdrew the blade and the pain faded a bit.
“You will answer questions,” he said. What is the purpose of the tower?”
“It is not a tower,” Jason said, his voice quavering. “It is a ship.”
Decius spoke again, saying something like, “It doesn’t look like any ship I’ve ever seen.” He sounded skeptical, but Jason’s insistence intrigued him.
“Not a water ship,” Jason said. “A sky ship.”
“Your ship travels in the sky?”
“Yes.”
Decius nodded to the man clutching Jason’s hand. Jason struggled, but the man once again straightened Jason’s little finger. The blade went deeper this time, and stayed there for some time. Jason screamed himself hoarse. At last the pain receded.
“Your ship travels in the sky?”
Jason nodded his head wearily.
“You come to save the Jews?”
Jason nodded again.
“Speak!”
“Some of them, yes.”
“But you are not a Jew?”
“No.”
Decius walked to the door of the tent and held the flap aside, staring out at the water. “It does not look like a ship.”
When Jason didn’t respond, Decius approached him, tapping his palm with the dagger, its tip coated with Jason’s blood.
“It is a sky ship. It is not made for water.”
“Where did it come from?”
“Another world,” Jason said.
Decius considered this, holding the dagger with its point up, watching a crimson bead run down its edge. “You have sky ships in this world?”
“Yes.”
“And weapons that throw slugs of metal?”
“Yes.”
“Where is this world?”
“It is….” How the hell was he going to explain light-years and hyperspace gates? He could lie, saying he was from India or China or Atlantis, but that strategy seemed unlikely to improve his situation. Decius would keep asking questions and eventually catch him in a lie or a contradiction. If he told the truth, he didn’t have to keep track of anything. “It is in the future,” he said. Did ancient people even have a concept of time travel? He couldn’t remember any myths about Roman gods going backwards in time, and the Roman gods did some pretty crazy stuff.
“You come from a place called Futurus?” Decius asked, misunderstanding Jason’s use of the world.
“Not a place. A time. The future.”
“You claim to be an oracle? You have visions of the future?”
“I live in the future.” Communicating the concept of time travel wasn’t made any easier by his lack of facility with Latin conjugation.
“What is my destiny, oracle?” Decius asked, either misunderstanding or ignoring Jason’s response.
“I do not know your destiny,” Jason said.
“Will I be Emperor?”
So, Flavius Decius was an ambitious one! Jason supposed it wasn’t beyond the realm of possibility. Decius looked to be in his early thirties, and he was already second in command of a legion. He tried to recall an Emperor Flavius Decius but failed. A comforting lie might be the best tactic, but Jason couldn’t bring himself to stroke the tribune’s ego. If only he could remember what was special about the Ninth Legion, he might be able to impress the man. “I don’t know,” he said.
Decius nodded to the man gripping Jason’s hand. “Wait, wait!” Jason cried. “Yes. Emperor Flavius Decius. I remember now!”
“Who will be Emperor after Hadrian?”
“Uh,” Jason said. “Marcus Aurelius?”
This was evidently the wrong answer. Decius couldn’t possibly know who the next Emperor was either, of course, but Marcus Aurelius was apparently not in the running. Decius brought the dagger to Jason’s finger. There was a shout outside, and Decius straightened. He sheathed the dagger and went to the door. A brief conversation with another officer ensued. Decius spoke an order, and the two men stood and followed him out of the tent. For the moment, Jason was alone. Suddenly he remembered what he had read about the Ninth Legion. A calm came over him. He knew what he had to do.
“Olson, you there?”
“I’m here, Captain. Are you all right?”
“I’m alive. Is Dr. Foley there?”
“She’s here, Captain.
“Stay on the line, Olson. I need to talk to both of you.”
“Aye, sir. Hold on.”
A moment later, Foley’s voice came over the comm. “Hello, Captain. Are you having fun?” In the background, Jason could hear other voices—scared, agitated, frightened.
“Not the word I would use,” said Jason. “I’m not going to make it back aboard Freedom.”
“My God. I’m sorry, I didn’t realize—”
“I know, you thought we were partying it up on the beach while you and the other colonists were trapped aboard the ship. For what it’s worth, I’m sorry you never got a chance to see it. It’s something to see, old Earth. Unfortunately the price of admission is steep. Currently I’m being held prisoner by an officer who seems to think I was sent from heaven to advance his political career.”
“Oh my God. What about your men?”
“Most of them are dead, as far as I know. If my treatment is any indication, the rest of them are going to be tortured for information.”
“I’m sorry, Captain. I don’t know what to say. From what Commander Olson tells us, though, our situation isn’t much better.”
“The Romans have no reason to hurt you, Dr. Foley. Make sure you don’t give them one.”
“What are you saying? You’re not giving over control of the ship to these thugs!”
“Not the entire ship, no.”
“Captain, you can’t—”
“We don’t have the weapons or manpower to eject those men from the ship. Moreover… Dr. Foley, could the human race survive with four hundred progenitors, half male and half female?”
“I don’t…. Captain, you can’t be considering….”
“I wasn’t able to get you your sperm samples. But you’ve got two hundred women of childbearing age, and I think I can get you close to two hundred fertile men.”
“Captain, this is outrageous. Absurd! We’re being boarded by bronze age ruffians, and you’re talking about… mating with them!”
“Captain,” said Olson’s voice, “I have to agree with Dr. Foley. You saw what men like these did to the Jews who resisted. You saw what they did to your own men. They’re bloodthirsty killers. They’re—”
“They’re human,” Jason said. “Most of them are just kids. They were conscripted or they volunteered because it was the only choice they had. The fact is, they’re human, and that’s good enough. Our mission wasn’t to select the kindest and most altruistic humans; it was to ensure the survival of the race. I don’t have to tell either of you that we’re all the products of war and rape. Our ancestors did what they needed to do to survive. And that’s what you’re going to do.”
“You’re talking about condoning rape,” said Dr. Foley.
“No. I’m talking about putting a group of men together with a group of women and letting nature take its course.”
“Forced sex will be the inevitable result.”
“No more inevitable than it is in any group of men and women.”
“Rape is endemic in wartime, Captain. You know this.”
“Yes, which is why it is critical to make the soldiers understand they aren’t at war anymore. They’re stuck with these women for the rest of their lives. These are their prospective wives, the mothers of their children. In circumstances like those, rape is not a good strategy, either for procreation or social acceptance. As soon as a few of the men realize that they’re in this for the long-term, they’re going to start to enforce rules against those who violate the community’s norms.”
“You’re telling me that we have an age of chivalry to look forward to?”
“That’s exactly what I’m telling you, Doctor. And the sooner you accept it, the less sexual assault you’re going to have. I’ve got a centurion headed my way, so you two are going to have to work out the details. Back to my question: will two hundred males and two hundred females be enough?”
“Under these circumstances? Unlikely.”
“Without stasis,” interjected Olson, “it’s going to be pretty crowded with more than four hundred people aboard.”
“Forget the politics and interpersonal dynamics for a moment, Doctor,” said Jason. “On a purely genetic level, is it enough?”
“Theoretically,” said Dr. Foley. “With careful pairing and ruthless enforcement. But Captain, a moment ago we were talking about trying to prevent widespread rape. The idea that we’re going to be able to take control of the reproductive faculties of—”
The flap of the tent was pushed aside, and the two men re-entered, followed by Flavius Decius.
“Like I said, you two work out the details. Olson, I’m officially transferring command to you. Captain out. Silence comm.”
“Who were you talking to?” Decius demanded, striding toward him.
“Jupiter,” said Jason. “Your mother says hello.”
Decius’s hand went to Jason’s cheek, and Jason flinched, anticipating a blow. But Decius pulled his hand away, holding the comm earpiece. He held it to his own hear for a moment, but it made no sound. He threw it in the sand.
“You will answer questions,” he said, drawing his dagger.
Chapter Fifty-six
Gleeson’s voice came over Olson’s comm. “Sir, the soldiers have breached the colonists’ quarters. I’ve got Taylor in an access shaft with a welder
to seal the door on the next level, but they broke through the last couple faster than we thought. He may not be done before they get there.”
“Forget it, Gleeson. Get him out of there.”
“Yes, sir. Should I send him to the garden deck? We can probably hold them there for a while.”
“No. Open the doors.”
“Sir?”
“We’re going to let them in. Captain’s orders. We can’t stop them anyway, so we might as spare the remaining doors. The Romans will be allowed free rein throughout the ship except for the crew-restricted areas. Is that understood, Gleeson? Just keep them out of the bridge and the engine room.”
“Understood, sir. Sir, do we have a plan?”
“More or less. You’re not going to like it, though. Hell, I don’t like it. Prepare to launch.”
“With the Romans on board, sir?”
“That’s the part you’re not going to like.”
“Oh. Okay, sir. Understood. I’ll get to work.”
Olson sat on the bridge, watching as men in bronze breastplates and iron helmets roamed the passages of Freedom. He wanted to laugh at the absurdity of it, but there was no time to be amused. The captain had put him in charge, and now the survival of everyone on board Freedom—and perhaps of humanity itself—was his responsibility. When he’d counted close to two hundred men, he tapped his comm. “Schwartz, you there?”
“I’m here, Olson. Just getting some Mediterranean sun.”
“We’re good to go.”
“You hit the magic number?”
“They keep moving around, so I may have counted a few twice, but yeah, we’re close to two hundred. Can you cut them off?”
“I think so. There’s nobody on the ladder now, and the nearest boat is about fifty meters out.”
“All right. Get to work. And don’t dawdle. Clear the airlock and then get to the bridge.”
“Roger that. Getting to work.”
*****
The Legacy of the Iron Dragon: An Alternate History Viking Epic Page 36