by Rob Steiner
At almost eighteen years old, Cordus could best most Saturnists in hand-to-hand sparring, knew how to disassemble and reassemble a pulse rifle in under two minutes, and could pilot a ship through the rocks and ice of a ringed planet.
Yet Kaeso still refused to bring him along on his Saturnist missions.
After Cordus spoke, Kaeso stared at him. Cordus did not look away. Kaeso rarely raised his voice to anyone. Why would he if he could just stare down people into obeying his orders?
“First, I don’t care if you’re a man according to Liberti law, or if you’re eighteen or a hundred and eighteen. I’m the centuriae of my ship, and I will take you on missions when I say you’re ready.”
Cordus clenched his teeth but continued to hold Kaeso’s commanding stare.
“Second, you know damned well why we need to keep you safe. Like it or not, kid, you’re humanity’s greatest chance at keeping the Muses from turning us all into cattle. Your blood won’t be much use if it’s floating in space or feeding the worms on some Janus-forsaken rock of a world.”
“Kaeso, this is all—”
“I’m not done.” Kaeso’s lip curled. “Third, you’re right.”
Cordus blinked. “Which part?”
“All of it.”
Cordus stared at him. It was the first time Kaeso ever told him he was right about anything. When Cordus answered a question correctly, Kaeso would nod without expression or maybe give him a rare smile.
“Which puts me in a dilemma,” Kaeso continued. “Yes, we can’t keep you imprisoned your whole life. Someday you’ll need to step out into the real world and take care of yourself. Maybe even return to Roma.”
Cordus cringed. He was the last Antonius and the Consular Heir. Even as a child, he had never wanted to be consul. All he ever wanted, and still wanted, was freedom: to command his own ship like Kaeso, to explore worlds he’d never seen or even knew existed.
The Roman consulship was another prison, with the highest walls in the universe. Let the Roman warlords fight for it.
“So here’s the deal, kid,” Kaeso said. “You can come with us to Reantium. Ocella won’t be happy to see you, but deep down she knows you need this. You will work on this trip. Are you ready for that?”
Cordus tried not to leap off his seat. “It’s all I’ve wanted since I left Roma. I want to earn my way, not be sheltered. I am ready.”
“Fine. I’ll tell the crew when we get back to Caduceus.” Then Kaeso studied him a moment and said, “Just remember you can’t run from your responsibilities, because they’ll always catch up with you and tackle you to the ground. I’ve learned that the hard way, and I’d rather you didn’t.”
“I’m not running, old man.” Cordus grinned. “If anything, I want more responsibility.”
Kaeso frowned slightly, as if Cordus had not understood the point. He did understand, though. Two responsibilities had been thrust upon him by something as unfair and arbitrary as birth.
One, the Roman consulship could be his if he declared himself. If the last Antonius arose from the dead, it could end a civil war that had raged for six years and claimed millions of lives. But that would mean an end to Cordus’s freedom.
Two, his mastery over the Muses—and his blood—could save humanity from enslavement to the whims of an alien virus. Yet even that ‘talent’ was suspect these days, especially after seeing Marcus Antonius Primus, something that could only have come from his Muses.
He didn’t want to think of those responsibilities now. He would finally test the skills he’d spent years practicing. Even if the trip to Reantium was simply a courier and rendezvous run, it was something real. Cordus would not ruin it by worrying about things he couldn’t control.
3
Marcia Licinius Ocella shifted in her command couch again. The rocks, ore, and ice floating outside the ship wore on her nerves. She glanced to her right at Lucia Marius Calida, the ship’s pilot. In the darkened cockpit, her face was serene in the white, blue, and red lights of her control panel as she steered the ship through the dangerous debris.
It’s the most relaxed she’s been in days. Too bad the entire trip here wasn’t through a debris cloud.
They had entered the vast spherical cloud surrounding the Menota system three days before. At first, the scraps left over from the formation of the Menota solar system were sparse. But three hours ago, the debris grew so dense—likely the aftermath of a planetoid collision—that Lucia took the ship off auto to fly it herself. While the ship’s tabulari could theoretically evade debris, Lucia—and Ocella, for that matter—trusted gods-given human piloting instincts more than the ninety-year-old tabulari.
If we had an Umbra ship…
Six years after she left Umbra and she still longed for the Muse-granted tech the Umbra Ancilia used in the field. Saturnists were an outlawed organization, so they made do with what they could scavenge or buy off the black markets. Not like the vast resources to which an Umbra Ancile—or a Roman Praetorian—had access.
As evidenced by the ship they now flew, which was old when Ocella’s mother was born.
“Just got a talaria hit,” announced Varo Ullup from behind Ocella. The young Saturnist, two years older than Cordus, operated the delta sleep controls and monitored the talaria scans. “It’s in and out, though. Hard to get a fix.”
“It’s this damned debris,” Lucia growled, betraying her affected serenity. “Can’t get a decent line of sight.”
“At least we know it’s out there, though,” Ocella said, then winced. She was trying to remain calm and useful, but knew obvious comments like that didn’t help. The command couch was the most useless position on a ship. Everyone else on the crew had a specific task. Centuriae, on the other hand, were bound by tradition and protocol to let the crew perform their assigned tasks. Centuriae had to focus on strategic decisions rather than minutia.
Which meant centuriae mostly sat in their couches wondering why they were even there.
Lucia scowled at Ocella’s comment but said nothing Ocella was grateful; she didn’t want another shouting match with Lucia during such delicate piloting maneuvers.
Ocella cursed herself once again for letting Kaeso talk her into bringing Lucia.
“She’s the best pilot I know,” he said as they held each other in bed the night before she left for Menota. “If that way line is in the outer debris clouds, she can get you through safer than any other Saturnist pilot.”
“But there’s still…tension between us,” Ocella said. “I don’t want distractions on this mission. It’s too important.”
“Every mission is important. It’s time you two found a peaceful solution.”
“Easy for you to say. She loves you.”
Kaeso sighed. “I made my feelings clear long ago. I’m her centuriae and her friend…but my heart is with you.”
“You’re so romantic. Doesn’t absolve you from listening to my grumbling.”
“You’ve kept your distance from each other for six years. One of you has to make the first move.”
“How would you feel if I wanted you to make friends with one of my unrequited lovers?”
“You have unrequited lovers?”
She jabbed him in the ribs, and he laughed. He pulled her to him, his naked skin warm against her body. “I’ll talk to her again,” he said.
“No, it’s my problem, I’ll do it. She is the best pilot for this mission. She’s been out there twice already. We’ll work it out.”
Ocella knew Kaeso was right…but he didn’t have to command a ship with a resentful pilot. Blasted man! All he sees is the loyal and brave Lucia, not the surly child next to me.
“Got another hit,” Varo announced again. “Stronger this time. Heading six seven point three.”
“Six seven point three,” Lucia acknowledged, then tapped the controls on her tabulari to redirect the ship.
The view outside the command deck window did not reflect the tight quarters through which they flew. The only sign of de
bris came when a dark mass blocked the stars, or when a rock floated through the ship’s running lights. Lucia didn’t look out the window, but stared at her anti-collision scanners to pilot the ship.
“Found it!” Varo exclaimed. “Sending the coordinates to your tabulari, Lucia.”
Ocella allowed herself a brief smile. Even Lucia grinned as she redirected the ship toward Varo’s coordinates.
For six years, the Saturnists searched for the hidden way line Kaeso saw in the Menota archive vaults before the Romans destroyed them. Six years of month-long missions piloting through planetary rubble, comets, and ice, looking for the talaria particles that identified way lines. They had scanned an enormous amount of space around Menota, probably the most detailed scan of a solar system in human history. Most system scans stopped with the planets and in-system asteroid belts. Nobody paid attention to outer debris clouds because they were usually so hard to navigate and far from a convenient way line.
But according to Kaeso's data, an unknown way line existed out here. A way line that other Muse strains could use to invade human space from anywhere in the universe. It had to be found and monitored to stop a Muse invasion.
Ocella tried not to think about what they’d do if the other strains had quantum way line engines like what Umbra installed on Kaeso’s Caduceus, before it was renamed Vacuna. Every speck of matter in the universe had a quantum connection. Umbra and the Liberti Muses had discovered a way to open way lines and travel those connections. The Liberti Muses had said it was new technology not known to other strains. Ocella prayed that was so.
Ocella could see little more than stars and shadows outside the window, so she monitored the proximity displays on her command tabulari. Varo marked the potential way line’s location with a green circle on the displays. They were less than a thousand miles from it.
Lucia eased the ship around asteroids and comets the size of small moons, along with all the ‘smaller’ chunks of rock and ice—the width of five-story buildings—that could destroy the ship. It was why they flew what was essentially a four-man shuttle packed with engines modified for speed and maneuverability. The debris cloud would pummel anything bigger.
Lucia passed beneath a dead comet, emerged on the other side, and found the way line signal directly ahead. The talaria readings showed a stable way line. Way line discoveries were rare during the last fifty years. Most explorers believed all the way lines available to humanity had been discovered, and that humanity was now limited to the systems within its way line network. The last way line discovered was twenty years ago, and it went to a binary star system with no planets. Had a government sanctioned Ocella’s mission, she and her crew would have returned to triumphs.
As Saturnists, however, this way line was one more secret they needed to keep.
“Prepare for delta sleep,” Ocella said. “Varo, proceed with the sacrifice.”
Behind her, Varo tore open a pack of freeze-dried falcon livers and dumped the contents into a small clay bowl. Ocella and Lucia closed their eyes.
“Oh, Jupiter Optimus Maximus,” Varo prayed aloud as he crushed the livers into powder with a stone masher, “grant us your permission to travel through your realm. Accept this offering from a beast of flight. If it pleases you, grant us safe journey through your way lines so we may arrive at…”
Varo paused. At this point in the prayer, delta sleep officers said the name of the destination system. Though Ocella planned to take the way line if found, it was only now the thought sunk in: we have no idea where it will take us. It was a thought both thrilling and frightening.
“…so we may arrive at our destination,” Varo finished. She heard the frown in his voice. ‘Destination’ was a vague term, and vague terms were never advisable when praying to the gods, who could interpret those terms in whatever way they pleased.
Despite her opinion that way line sacrifices were a quaint tradition at best, she added her own silent prayer. So we may arrive at our destination sane and alive.
She heard sparks as Varo used a small torch to ignite the powdered falcon livers, and then she smelled smoke as the livers disintegrated. Varo muttered a few more words in ancient Aramaic, the language of his Hebrew ancestors. It had been a dead language for 700 years since Roma atomized the entire Terran Palestinian region after a bloody revolt. Ocella knew a bit from her Umbra days when she and other Ancilia used it to communicate in situations where they might be overheard.
“Blessed are you, Adonai, who hears our prayer.”
The sacrifice complete, Ocella enabled the delta headrest on her command couch, as did Lucia and Varo. The delta device glowed green, indicating activation.
“Thirty seconds to way line,” Varo announced. “Delta sleep and crew couches activated. Transferring delta control to your tabulari, Centuriae.”
Ocella’s tabulari showed all three couches with a green outline.
Lucia set the ship on a heading into the way line entry point identified by the talaria particle sensors. “Delta pilot engaged,” Lucia said. “Twenty seconds to way line entry.” She leaned her head back into her couch.
“Initiating delta sleep on my mark,” Ocella said. Then she turned to Lucia with a smile. “Let’s make history.”
Lucia rolled her eyes. “Let’s pray we’re around to see it.”
Ocella shook her head, then turned back to the delta controls. “Mark,” she said, then engaged the delta sleep for her crew.
Lucia’s eyes closed, and her body sank further into her couch as all her muscles relaxed. Ocella watched the delta display on her tabulari to verify that the outlines of both Lucia and Varo turned yellow.
Satisfied, she watched the countdown to way line entry. Fifteen seconds. Her finger hovered over the control that would engage her delta sleep. She had taken on Kaeso’s habit of manually initiating delta sleep rather than letting the ship do it. It comforted her to maintain some control over a means of travel that was largely in the hands of the gods.
At three seconds, Ocella tapped the delta control for her couch…
…and found her gaze on the command deck’s dark ceiling. She blinked, raised her head, and scanned her tabulari. Five seconds had passed since she tapped her delta control. She checked her proximity display. They now orbited a planet and no system debris floated around them.
“Ship integrity stable,” Lucia said, running through her post-way line checklist. “Internal systems normal. Way line jump confirmed.”
“Where are we, Varo?” Ocella asked.
Varo tapped at his tabulari. “Orbiting a rocky planet approximately 1.3 T in size and mass. Minimal atmosphere—90% carbon dioxide with trace amounts of nitrogen, oxygen, and water vapor. No moons orbiting the…wait, one asteroid….”
When he said no more, Ocella said, “Varo?”
“Well it’s not an asteroid, Centuriae. Whatever it is, it’s in a stationary point above the planet’s equator. It’s 320,000 miles from us at heading eight nine point one. Thirteen miles long.” He paused. “Amazing…”
“Focus, Varo. Just tell me what you see.”
“Sorry, Centuriae. External composition analysis is saying ‘unknown’. It’s the oddest shape…like a tower with spikes.”
Electricity tingled through Ocella’s body, but she asked calmly, “Any power or heat coming from it?”
“Nothing. It’s as cold as the space around it.”
“The planet?”
Varo paused. “Nothing on the hemisphere below us, but we’ll have to do an orbit before I can say what’s on the other side.”
“Interesting,” Lucia muttered, staring at her tabulari.
“What’s interesting, pilot?”
“It’s not moving relative to the planet, or even rotating. If it has no power, how does it stay in a single point in space without even a wobble?”
Every artificial satellite had some power source to keep it in a stable orbit, or else it eventually crashed into the planet or flew off into space. What kept this object i
n place if it didn’t have a power source?
“Varo, can you get any internal scans?”
“Not from this range. We’ll need to get within 10,000 miles.”
Ocella bit her lip. Protocols for first-time jumps through new way lines always included procedures for contact with intelligent alien life. They were protocols that had never been used throughout human history, though Ocella knew from the Muse archives, and Cordus, that the Muses had infected dozens of alien races over millions of years. And those were just the Muses that found humanity. Kaeso said the Liberti Muses warned of more strains beyond the hidden Menota way line. Had a Muse-infected alien race built the object?
She turned to Lucia. “What do you think, pilot?”
Lucia raised an eyebrow. “You’re the Centuriae, why do you need my permission?”
“I’m not asking for your permission, I’m asking for your opinion. Do you think we should get closer to this thing?”
Lucia looked back at the object through her pilot-side window. “Kaeso would spend hours planning every possible scenario before taking his crew into an unknown situation like this.”
Ocella pressed her lips together. Kaeso was an Ancile once, too, so Lucia was right. It just annoyed her that she’d bring up Kaeso now.
Lucia turned back to Ocella with a grin. “Me, I like charging into a dark room without knowing what’s inside. More fun that way.” Lucia regarded her a moment. “So who are you going to be: a cautious Ancile or a reckless barbarian?”
“I vote barbarian,” Varo said from behind them.
Ocella smiled. She was also excited to discover an object that was obviously built by intelligent aliens. It was the first such object humans had discovered in the 600 years they’d been traveling the interstellar way lines. Varo and Lucia’s excitement only added to her own.