by David
Tenaran children, sitting attentively at desks
arranged in rows, being taught by Magna
Romans dressed as Marcus was--although without
the purple edging to their togas or the silver and
gold stitching on their sandals.
Marcus smiled at the look of shock on
Gaius' face as he passed by the open doors
of both classrooms.
"By the gods, Marcus, you've gone too
far," he said through clenched teeth. "You have no
authority to assign these personnel here."
Marcus said nothing, merely nodded through an
open door at one of the classes. In answer
to a question from the teacher, a boy of about six slid
from his desk, jumped to his feet, stood at
military attention, and recited, "Nomen
Romanum refers to the Roman power, which is
supreme all over the world of Magna
Roma."
"Very good, Tullius," the teacher said. The
teacher was a middle-aged woman, very erect, very
patrician. "You may sit down."
Tullius smiled happily and sat in his
desk again, like all the other children sat, erect,
stiff-backed.
The teacher called on another child.
"Antonia, finish this sentence for me, and then
translate it into Tenaran "Roma
locutaest ...""
A little girl, no older than five,
jumped to her feet and stood just as
stiffly as her classmate Tullius had and
said in a singsong, "Roma locuta est;
causa finita est. It means, "Rome
has spoken; the case is ended.""
"Excellent, Antonia. Anyone, what
does that really mean?"
Gaius turned away.
"Come," Marcus said. "There's more."
Now he led the way behind the building. There a
high wall blocked their way. It also
protected whatever it enclosed from observation.
The wall was made of the same metal used
aboard starships for interior walls.
"The Tenarans build with stone and wood,"
Gaius said.
"Correct. We added the wall ourselves, for
privacy."
As if to emphasize the off-planet origin
of the wall, the door set into it stayed closed
until Marcus said to it, his Aperi to was At
his command, the door slid to one side, admitted
the two men, and then slid shut behind them. Beyond the
door was a flat space entirely surrounded
by the wall. On that dusty field, Roman
troops were drilling.
"From the ship?"
Marcus grinned. "Look again."
Gaius did. The trainees were boys and
girls, of whom the oldest was fifteen or
sixteen. Then it struck him. "Tenarans!"
Marcus laughed in delight. "Exactly!
Young Tenarans! And they take to it, Gaius,
they take to it! Watch them."
Before them, the ranks dressed in archaic
Roman armor and armed with ancient Roman
weapons marched and wheeled and turned in
response to shouted orders--always in Latin--from
a Magna Roman officer. At his order they
stopped with a simultaneous ground-shaking tramp
of booted feet. Another yell in Latin, and
they all turned to face Gaius and Marcus,
struck their fists to their chests, and then shot out
their arms in a Roman salute. In one
voice they cried out, "Salvete!"
Gaius turned and stalked back to the door.
When it didn't open for him, he said,
"Open!" There was no response. He tried
the same command in Latin, imitating Marcus
his aperi to was Still there was no response.
Behind him, Marcus chuckled.
"It's not set to recognize your voice,
Lieutenant."
Without turning, Gaius said quietly, but in
a deep rumble that carried across the parade
ground, "Then open it for me, or I'll break
my way through it."
"I'm planting seeds. We're doing this
all over the planet. In time, these children will reach
the age when they begin to play a role in shaping
the destiny of Tenara. Some of them will enter the
saavtas. Others will create a native armed
force."
"An armed force?"
Marcus nodded. His eyes shone with pride.
"Modeled after the Roman legions. They
won't need our help to repel attack the
next time. More important, however, they and their
comrades in the saavtas will ..." He
paused, searching for the right phrase. "They will
alter the nature of this world and perhaps the Federation
as well."
"Marcus, you fool." Gaius shook his
head sadly. "I don't know where you got the
idea for this, but it stops now. You'll dismantle
your schools immediately, and you will return to the ship
and bring all of your teachers with you."
Marcus shook his head. "You still don't
understand, do you? I'm not under your command. I'm
Sejanus' cousin, I'm here at his invitation,
and I take my orders from him. What I'm
doing now, in fact, is by his orders.
Furthermore, if I were a plebe like you,
I'd be more careful. Life can be most
uncomfortable for those who insult members of
certain families--even in these democratic,
republican days."
"The captain would never approve of what
you've done."
"Do you really think so, Gaius?"
"We'll see what Lucius Aelius
Sejanus has to say about this!" Gaius
slapped his communicator. "Centurion!
One to beam up, and be quick about it!"
When Gaius Aldus materialized on the
platform of the Centurion's transporter
room, the technician standing behind the console
instantly straightened to attention and slapped his
fist to his chest, then snapped his arm out, hand
straight, palm down, in the ancient
Roman salute.
Gaius did not even notice. He leapt
from the platform and rushed from the room, down the
corridor to the nearest turbolift. He
ignored greetings and salutes from those he
passed. He was unaware of the people along the way.
He was preoccupied with what he'd seen on the
surface of Tenara, and what it implied.
Marcus, of course, was right Gaius was a
plebe. In the old days, that would have meant that
he was nothing, that his family name meant nothing,
that he was not considered to have such a thing as honor.
In these times, he was still unimportant and his
family name still meant nothing. But now he had
honor, and he would protect it. It was all
he had--except for Jenny.
In his quarters, Gaius used the
communicator screen on his desk to contact his
captain. The computer found Sejanus in his
ready room, busy with some of the mundane
details that running a starship required. He
lo oked annoyed at being interrupted, but brightened
somewhat when he saw who was calling him.
"Gaius! What are you doing on board?
Aren't you supposed to be helping that
Enterprise security team with--"
"Captain," Gaius broke in. "I
need to see you. Immediately."
Sejanus frowned. "I'm rather bogged down
at the moment. Can it wait until this evening?"
"I'm afraid not, Captain."
Sejanus nodded, instantly serious at the
undertone in his first officer's voice. "Then come
immediately. The ready room."
The communications screen went dark.
Gaius sighed and pulled off his Starfleet
uniform. Slowly, and with great care, he put on
his dress uniform, reserved only for
ceremonial occasions. This had changed little
since ancient times; it was the garb of the Magna
Romans who had set out to conquer a world--and
succeeded. First came a tunic. Over that, he
put on a heavy breastplate with armored
epaulets. He added a skirt onto which
plates of metal armor had been sewn, a
helmet, and a cloak. Finally he strapped
to his waist a belt from which dangled a short,
broad sword--ceremonial, but sharp-pointed
and edged.
He examined himself in the
full-length mirror set upon one wall. He
adjusted his armor, hiked up his sword belt,
and then, satisfied, stood to attention and gave
his image the Roman salute.
Now he felt ready for what was required of
him. Gaius left his quarters and headed for the
bridge.
Once again, the crew members Gaius
passed saluted him. Before, they had done so because
they respected him and because of his high status on
the ship. Now they did so for both of those
reasons and also because of the ancient, revered
uniform he wore. And this time, Gaius walked
more slowly, noticed the salutes, and returned
them gravely. "Salve," he said
quietly. "Salve."
The turbolift doors slid open, and
Gaius Aldus stepped onto the bridge, the
embodiment of Roma Aeterna, Eternal
Rome. Conversation on the bridge stopped, and the
crew watched in fascination as Gaius walked
across the bridge with great dignity and entered the
ready room.
As the door slid shut behind him, Sejanus
looked up from his desk. "Gaius. Be
welcome." Then the uniform registered on him,
and he raised his eyebrows. "Such ceremony with
me, Gaius?"
"Captain, you paid me the compliment of telling
Jean-Luc Picard that I have long protected
your honor as well as your life."
Sejanus nodded. "Quite true. Not a
compliment, but the simple truth."
"Then it is my duty to warn you that that honor
is in great danger."
"I'm not sure how that can be." The words were
neutral. The voice was cold. This was not
Sejanus speaking to his lifelong friend; this was
a Roman patrician reproving a plebe for
speaking out of turn. "Perhaps you can explain it
to me."
Gaius deliberately ignored that.
"Marcus Volcinius is in Zhelnogra.
He is overseeing a program to turn the children
of Tenara away from their traditional ways and
toward our Roman ways--pre-republican
ways, in fact."
"I see," Sejanus said. The captain
stood, and crossed the ready room to stand in
front of the great window. "Go on."
"Marcus implied that these ... these new
Romans he's creating might play some
important political role in the future,
involving more than just Tenara. He even went so
far as to claim that he was following your orders."
"Indeed."
"Does that mean that he is following your
orders?"
"Are you questioning me? Are you requiring me
to explain my motives to you?" More than ever,
Sejanus was the patrician reproving the
plebeian.
"By our friendship and our history, yes."
Sejanus stared at Gaius for a long
moment. "Very well, then. Marcus is acting in
my interest--mine, and that of Magna Roma."
"I fail to see how that can be, Captain,"
Gaius interrupted. "What Marcus is doing
is against the laws of the Federation and against the laws
of Tenara. It is dishonorable."
"Dishonorable?" Sejanus shook his head
angrily. "No, it is not dishonorable. It
is necessary."
Gaius folded his arms across his chest.
"Explain."
Sejanus sat back in his chair and offered
a smile. "Do you remember the war games we
used to play, Gaius? When we were children? I was
the emperor, and you my general?"
Gaius nodded.
"We could act with impunity then, with utter
disregard for the consequences. We could make
mistakes--die, even--but it was all
make-believe." He looked into Gaius'
eyes. "Do you remember?"
"I remember."
"Well, my friend, this is a game no
longer. The M'dok, the Romulans, the
Ferengi, follow no rules," Sejanus
said. "They will destroy us unless we destroy
them first. Using any method we can."
Gaius shook his head. "Any method?
No, sir. A battle won without honor is
a worthless victory. You knew this once--when
we defeated the Romulans at Adhara.
Then, you let the survivors escape, with
dignity. You showed them true Roman
honor."
"Escape to attack us again," Sejanus
said. "I was a fool."
"No, sir. You were a hero. And now you have
changed. You fight for personal glory, for your
own selfish ends. Not for the good of the Federation."
Sejanus rose from his chair. "No! Now
I act in the interests of the Volcinii gens
and our world. Support me, Gaius Aldus!
Join me! You'll be rewarded." He smiled.
"I'm not asking you for anything new. Continue
to serve me as you always have."
"You say we must destroy our enemies,"
Gaius said carefully. "How will you accomplish
this? Picard has command here--and he will not go to war
against the M'dok."
"True," Sejanus said, eyeing his first
officer carefully.
And then he told Gaius what he planned
to do with Captain Picard and the Enterprise.
"It is a bold plan," Gaius agreed
when Sejanus was finished.
Sejanus turned toward him, smiling.
"But it is the plan of a madman with a
callous disregard for life. I can serve you no
longer, Captain," Gaius said fiercely.
"You have no honor."
Sejanus stiffened at the rebuke. "And you
are no Magna Roman. You disgrace the
uniform you wear."
"Disgrace this uniform?" Gaius asked.
He quickly drew his short sword, and
Sejanus stepped back, hand moving toward his
chest insignia and his communicator. Gaius'
short sword darted out and flicked the
captain's ins
ignia to the ground.
Gaius stared at him for a moment--a clear
look of contempt. Then he lowered his weapon.
"On the contrary, it is you who disgrace this
uniform, Captain. I go now to inform the
Magna Roman government of your plot."
"I am ruined," Sejanus said, distress
spreading across his features.
"No," Gaius said, his voice softening.
"You are saved."
He reached out to take Sejanus' hand--
--and his captain reached inside his guard,
drawing the short sword, and plunged it
into Gaius Aldus' belly.
The first officer groaned once, a horrible
noise like a giant animal gasping for breath.
He grabbed hold of Sejanus' wrist,
trying to loosen his hold on the
sword. But Sejanus stepped forward again,
putting his weight underneath the sword, and lifted
Gaius off the ground.
Gaius' eyes rolled upward in his head,
and Sejanus lowered his body carefully to the
ground.
"I will miss you, old friend," Sejanus
said, kneeling down by his first officer's side.
"But this is war."
He loosened Gaius' fingers from around his
wrist and wrapped them one by one around the hilt
of the sword. He held them there until
Gaius' grip stiffened and his hand grew
clammy.
Sejanus stood and wiped his hands clean on
a towel. He picked up his communicator
insignia and attached it to his chest, then touched
it once, lightly.
"Security here, Captain."
"There has been an accident in my cabin.
Send someone in to clean it up."
"Yes, sir."
Sejanus thought a moment. "And then get me
Jenny de Luz on board the Enterprise."
"Captain Sejanus?" Jenny's
surprised face filled the screen. "I was
told you wanted to speak with me, sir."
"Yes, Jenny, I do." He paused,
choosing his words carefully. "I regret
to tell you that Magister Navis Gaius
Aldus has dedicated his life to Magna
Roma."
Jenny looked confused. "Sir? I
don't--"
"I mean," Sejanus said gently, "that our
beloved friend Gaius Aldus has taken his own
life. He has given his soul to the state."
Slowly the meaning of the strange formal
phrasing sank in. Jenny's mouth opened.
No sound came out. She stared at Sejanus,
and tears filled her eyes.
"I understand your grief, child. Gaius was my
oldest, closest friend," he said softly. "I
am here if you need me."
Sejanus gestured, and the contact was broken.
And you will need me, he added silently.