Muses of Terra (Codex Antonius Book 2)

by Rob Steiner

  Varo was silent at the images Ocella sent them, so she spoke first. “Wonder if these aliens are part of the crew or part of the menu.”

  Lucia said, “I hope they didn’t bring you there just to freeze you, too.”

  The same thought occurred to Ocella, which was why she kept her helmet’s motion sensors at a high sensitivity. If something came at her, or an oval opened, at least she’d have time to react.

  And do what? the practical side of her mind asked. She had no answer.

  The blue veins on the floor pulsated in intervals into the crescent room, like a wave of blue light rushing away. Ocella followed the blue lights once again, glancing left and right at the strange aliens caught in the frozen ovals. As she came around the curve of the crescent, another opening appeared ahead toward which the blue lights pulsated.

  “Entering another corridor,” Ocella reported.

  She noted the time on her helmet display. She’d been wandering the object for almost twenty minutes. With all the twists and turns, she judged she had walked perhaps a mile. But she couldn’t tell if she was farther into the object or just going in circles.

  Lucia said, “Another one? This is getting boring.”

  Varo laughed. “If this is boring, I shudder to think what you’d find exciting!”

  “I’m just saying you’d think they would have met Ocella at the hatch. They’re making her run around like Theseus in the Labyrinth.”

  Thanks for making me think of a hungry Minotaur, Ocella thought with a frown.

  She entered the corridor. “Again, we may not understand—”

  As soon as she stepped into the corridor, the opening to the room behind her irised shut and turned into a blank wall indistinguishable from the rest of the corridor.

  “The door just closed behind me,” Ocella said, panning her helmet camera at the wall. She kept her voice calm, but her heart thudded even louder in her chest and ears.

  Silence in her com.

  “Lucia, Varo, do you read me?”

  More silence.

  “Cac,” she breathed.

  She looked around the corridor. The blue veins pulsated to an opening ten paces to the right. She glanced one last time at the wall where the door to the alien room had once been and then followed the blue lights.

  Once she entered the room, she froze. A naked human woman stood before her.

  It was an exact copy of Ocella.

  On the command deck, Lucia ensured her pulse pistol was ready to fire. She shoved it into her holster, and then climbed down the ladder to the hatch level.

  Blasted centuriae, Lucia thought. Never listen to their trierarchs. Ocella learned too much from Kaeso.

  She suppressed a jealous wave with tremendous will. Ocella’s my centuriae on this mission. Even if she stole the man I’ve loved for ten years. My duty is to keep her from killing herself…if only to save her for myself.

  “Don’t suppose it would help to remind you,” Varo said, following her down the ladder, “that the Centuriae ordered us to stay here until she called for us?”

  “No, it wouldn’t help.”

  “And that a little pulse pistol won’t do much against whatever’s inside there?”

  On the hatch level, Lucia stopped and glared at Varo. “Your point?”

  Varo shrugged and then drew his pulse pistol. “Just confirming you were aware of the situation. Let’s go find our centuriae.”

  Lucia shook her head inside her helmet. Every time she thought she figured out Varo, he did something that changed her opinion of him. She turned and approached the hatch.

  The connector was just like what she saw through Ocella’s camera feed—blue-lit, biological, and thoroughly alien.

  “You said you wanted to know what I found exciting?” she said. “This.”

  Varo sighed. “Wonderful.”

  Lucia stepped into the connector.

  5

  Ocella faced her naked self. It was a three-dimensional, color holo that was remarkably detailed, yet it had a metallic tint indicating it was not a real person. An irrational part of her mind cringed. You’re standing in an alien spacecraft and you’re worried how your naked body looks?

  “New species. Curiosity.”

  Ocella’s own voice reverberated throughout the room, which she detected with her helmet’s external sound capture. While the voice sounded like hers, its cadence and tone were halting and golem-like.

  “Its communications enable us to learn its language. Difficult. Time needed to learn correct sounds. Annoyance. New species will learn more efficient communication methods. Benevolence.”

  When Ocella could think again, she put her hand on her chest and said, “My name is Marcia Licinius Ocella. What do you call yourself?”

  Ocella’s holo stared at her. “‘Name.’ Implies individuality. Fascination. Rare for sentient species. Hesitation. Perhaps infected by rivals. Hatred.”

  “I’m not infected by your rivals,” she said quickly. “We are explorers.”

  Ocella’s holo stared at her as it processed her words. “Difficult to ascertain rival infection. Curiosity. Marcia Licinius Ocella must remove its helmet.”

  “I’d rather not,” Ocella said.

  “Impatience.”

  A terrible screeching filled her helmet, driving Ocella to her knees. She screamed, but could not even hear herself over the screeching.

  The sound abruptly stopped.

  “Marcia Licinius Ocella will remove its helmet. Impatience. Air in this room is breathable for Marcia Licinius Ocella. Reassurance.”

  Ocella reached for her helmet clasps with shaking hands and flipped them open. Best not to annoy it further. Her ears still rang from the shrill sound.

  She pulled her helmet off. The room temperature was cooler than in the helmet. She forced herself to inhale. The air had an iron scent to it, like that outside a cattle slaughter yard, but she had no trouble breathing. After a few more breaths, she unclenched her muscles from the anticipation of choking to death.

  “Analyzing breath of Marcia Licinius Ocella,” hologram Ocella said. “Analysis confirms no rivals. Satisfaction. However, Marcia Licinius Ocella is aware of rivals. Suspicion. We would know the relationship between rivals and Marcia Licinius Ocella. Curiosity.”

  Ocella paused, gathering her thoughts. How to make an alien understand human history? The Saturnists never prepared her for this. Neither did Umbra for that matter.

  “A thousand years ago—” she began, but the holo cut her off.

  “Desire for information not directed at Marcia Licinius Ocella. Impatience. Communication methods too inefficient for data retrieval. Impatience. Information will be extracted from your species’ drones. Impatience.”

  Ocella tensed. “What drones?”

  Lucia and Varo followed the pulsating blue vein lights in the walls and floor. Lucia hoped the lights took them in the direction in which Ocella had gone. Ocella had likely entered a room that cut off com signals. Perhaps a door closed behind her, blocking the signals.

  Or perhaps she lay injured somewhere in this labyrinthine vessel, trying to call for help, but unable to get through.

  Or perhaps something had awakened and taken her captive.

  Lucia always assumed the worst. In this case, she assumed Ocella had been captured.

  And just what are you going to do? Kaeso’s practical voice asked in her mind. You have a pulse pistol and a green kid on his first mission. You’re going up against an unknown alien intelligence and you don’t even have a plan.

  Lucia retorted to the Kaeso practicality. And the time you’d waste coming up with a plan against an unknown alien intelligence—which, by the way, is unknowable and therefore a waste of time—you could be saving your lover. Why I’m doing this for you is a mystery greater than this godsdamned vessel.

  “Lucia!” Varo screamed behind her.

  She whipped around to see Varo gaping at his feet. They were sinking into the chitinous floor, the blue veins brightening an
d coalescing around his feet as if trying to get a better grip.

  Lucia lunged forward and grabbed Varo’s hands. She tried pulling him out, but the floor was too strong. She couldn’t get good leverage because the chitinous surface was too smooth. Only the area around him had turned viscous, for Lucia could step within a pace from him and stand on solid floor. But no matter how hard she pulled, he continued to sink.

  “Cac!” she cried through clenched teeth.

  Varo clutched at her, his eyes wide. He was down to his chest and the sinking accelerated.

  “Lucia!” he screamed one last time before his helmet went below the floor’s surface. His com cut off, but his hands grasped frantically at hers. She continued pulling, even as her arms went under the floor. He was suddenly yanked from her grasp. She felt around the viscous liquid under the floor, but couldn’t find him. She pulled her arms out.

  “Varo!” she yelled into her com.

  Nothing.

  “Varo!”

  When he did not respond she rose to her feet. She stomped the floor through which Varo disappeared, but it was solid again.

  “Gods below, what do you want with us?” she yelled at the walls.

  She stomped the floor with her heel several more times. The only answer it gave was the pulsating veins leading down the undulating corridor. She licked her lips, then held her pistol in a firing position and followed the lights.

  After more turns, hills, and dips, she entered the crescent room Ocella had walked through just before they lost her com. The hairs stood on her neck and arms. It was not the alien physiology that disturbed her, but the way their limbs seemed to flail, as if they had fought against their captors until the moment they froze. Even the algae-like substance she passed seemed to have been panicked, for it looked like a pyrotechnic starburst trying to escape the oval.

  Focus, soldier. Mind current threats, not ancient ones.

  But she didn’t know if an ancient threat would suddenly become a current one. This object continued to surprise them. She watched the aliens in the ovals as if they would jump out at her at any moment. She kept her helmet’s motion sensors—calibrated to compensate for her movements—on their highest setting. The bottom left corner of her helmet display showed the view behind her in case anything snuck up.

  She rounded the curve of the room. The wall ahead had no ovals but was layered with a thick web of glowing blue veins. She saw no exit.

  “Ocella, Varo, do you read me?” She didn’t expect it to work, but she had to try. Perhaps the com signals would work this close to—

  Her helmet’s motion sensor blared. One of the algae ovals reached out with a gelatinous tentacle and engulfed her torso. In a panic, she tried pulling free, but more tentacles wrapped around her body. The tentacles snaked around her chest, her arms, and then a gelatinous mass poured over her head. She struggled to move in a massive bubble of viscous fluid as she screamed non-sensical curses and pleas in her panic.

  The bubble pulled her backward into the oval from which it had emerged. Once inside, the outer layer solidified. Her panicked terror mounted when the algae darted forward and surrounded her.

  Suit integrity alarms blared as algae began eating away at the suit. The air in her helmet sputtered and stopped, then quickly grew stale with her own exhales. Her faceplate turned opaque, then multiple cracks formed across the surface.

  Her imminent death seemed to shatter her panic. A sudden calm came over her, and she didn’t know if it was the algae or perhaps the gods granting her supernatural strength to face her death. Regardless, she used the last seconds of breath for one final message. She eye-tapped the deteriorating helmet display to start a recording.

  “Kaeso,” she said in a ragged whisper. “Be happy…”

  Her helmet issued a final loud crack, then imploded. The viscous fluid poured onto her face, burning and freezing at the same time. It entered her lungs with the same horrible agony.

  She thanked the gods it ended quickly.

  A rumbling, suctioning sound reverberated through the room. Ocella whipped around to see what looked like a large drop of water form on the ceiling. A figure in a pressure suit slipped into the drop, and then the drop eased down until it touched the floor next to Ocella. The drop retreated back into the ceiling, leaving the figure to collapse on the floor.

  Ocella rushed forward and turned the person over.

  “Cen-Centuriae?” Varo said.

  “Varo, what happened? Where’s Lucia?”

  “Gods, Centuriae, I have no idea what they did. I thought I was dead. It pulled me through this—”

  “Varo,” Ocella said, holding his shoulders, “where’s Lucia?”

  He blinked. “She was right in front of me. We were in a corridor—”

  “You left the shuttle?”

  “We lost com with you. We thought you might be hurt.”

  Ocella turned to the holo. “Where is my other crew member?”

  The holo stared at her several moments. “Drone of Marcia Licinius Ocella species is under analysis. Curiosity.”

  “What do you mean, ‘analysis’? Where is Lucia?”

  “Marcia Licinius Ocella species concerned over drone. Sympathetic. Drone will be replaced after analysis complete. Benevolence. New drone will enable more efficient communication with Marcia Licinius Ocella species. Anticipation.”

  Ocella didn’t know how to respond to this alien holo.

  Analysis? Replacement?

  She swallowed once. “Did you kill Lucia?”

  The holo processed this question, and then said, “The drone’s existence, as it was, is no more. Self-evident. Marcia Licinius Ocella species will be compensated with improved drone. Generosity.”

  Ocella exhaled once, then wanted to scream at the holo. What good will screaming at it do? It thinks it’s doing me a favor.

  “I would have preferred,” she said slowly, using all her will to stamp down her panic, “that you had not…ended my crew member’s existence. She was important to me the way she was. I do not want a…replacement, nor do I want you to do the same to my crew member here.”

  The holo stared blankly for almost a minute. Ocella wondered if it was unable, or unwilling, to understand her request.

  “We do not understand why Marcia Licinius Ocella species prefers flawed drones. Confusion. We wonder why Marcia Licinius Ocella species does not appreciate our services. Insulted. Besides, preferences of Marcia Licinius Ocella species are irrelevant. Dominance. Only experiences valued. Anticipation.”

  The blue-lit veins in the room pulsated quicker, and then the entire wall behind the holo turned gray. The holo winked out, and then a 3-D image of the space around the vessel displayed on the wall, complete with the brown-clouded planet below. The view swiveled around to the left until it faced the empty space that held the way line.

  “Oh, gods,” Varo said, “are they taking us through the way line? If we go through without delta sleep—!”

  The view flickered, and then the Menota debris cloud appeared. The vessel plowed through the debris as if it weren’t there, turning rock, metal, and ice into atoms when the debris struck the translucent, blue energy shield surrounding it.

  After ensuring her sanity—if I were insane, would I know?—she sat next to Varo. “You might as well take your helmet off. Better to save your air until you really need it.”

  Varo took off the helmet, revealing his sweaty, matted black hair. It took him several deep breaths before his eyes returned to a normal size and he set his helmet beside him. He stared at the display wall. “Where do you think they’re going?”

  Only experiences valued.

  Ocella stared at the wall. “Menota.”

  If they were like the other Muse strains humanity had encountered, they valued experiences—the memories and emotions all intelligent species generated—above all else. The archives Kaeso and Cordus retrieved from Menota had taught the Saturnists that “experiences” were their gold, religion, and sustenance all rolle
d into one.

  Ocella wondered what they would do when they learned the Menota archives were gone.

  6

  “Cordus will be my second on this mission,” Kaeso said to Vacuna’s four other crew members in Cargo One. “Questions?”

  Cordus struggled to keep his face impassive as shock roiled through him. Second? I only wanted to come along. He wants me to be his Trierarch? Granted, this was a simple courier mission: pick up a device that could detect the scentless aura of Muses in any Muse-infected human. A Saturnist named Aulus Tarpeius had developed the device on the Roman agricultural planet Reantium. They would also meet Lucia and Ocella there after their month-long mission to Menota. But as Kaeso had drilled into him for six years, there was no such thing as a ‘simple’ mission. Anything could go wrong once you step outside your door, and you had to prepare for it.

  Gaius Octavius Blaesus, a white-haired, exiled Roman Senator and patrician, sat in a spare flight couch. He clapped his hands and beamed at Cordus. As always, he spoke first.

  “It’s about time you gave this young man responsibility, Centuriae. As I've always said, he needs the practice. Congratulations, Trierarch Antonius.”

  Cordus frowned. “You mean ‘Trierarch Aemilius’.”

  Only the crew of Vacuna, Gaia Julius, and select members of the Saturnist upper echelon knew Cordus’s real identity. To everyone else, he was Titus Aemilius Cordus, nephew of Kaeso Aemilius and Marcia Licinius Ocella. After he escaped Terra, he had “disappeared” to Caesar Nova, a Lost World with geography and weather similar to northern Britannia—rocky, wet, and cold.

  But Cordus knew what Blaesus meant by “practice.” He tried his best every day to avoid thinking about it. Blaesus believed the romantic notion that Cordus should return to Roma, declare himself the Consular Heir, and then the civil war would end and all humanity would be united under a single ruler, as it was meant to be.

  There was nothing in the universe Cordus wanted less.