Muses of Terra (Codex Antonius Book 2)

by Rob Steiner

  24

  Cordus sat on a crate in Cargo One as Piso and Duran pushed Dariya and Daryush into the hold. Dariya glared at the two Romans, but they had already sealed the hatch before her glare caught them. Daryush looked more annoyed than fearful. Cordus couldn’t decide if that was good or bad.

  “I’m sorry, you two.”

  “Stop right there,” Dariya said, turning her glare on him. “Whining is the last thing I want to hear from you. I want to hear a centuriae with a plan, not a guilt-ridden child.”

  Cordus stared at her a moment, then broke into laughter. It had been a long time since he’d laughed, and it felt good. It did not make him any less angry or frustrated, but it did seem to clear his mind.

  Dariya watched him with narrow eyes until he brought his laughter under control.

  “Fine,” he said. “Would you feel better if I said this was all part of my plan?”

  “No, because I know you would be lying.”

  The Cargo One hatch opened again. Duran and Piso entered with their pulse rifles aimed at the three of them. Ulpius and Gracchus came behind, each holding one of Blaesus’s arms. The old Senator looked frail and tired, but his eyes were clear and he had a firm set to his jaw. A blanket was draped over his naked shoulders, and a faint bloodstain showed on the white bandages around his mid-section. Ulpius and Gracchus let Blaesus down gently onto a cot in one corner of the hold.

  Gracchus, the Roman closest to Cordus’s age, refused to meet his eyes as he took up a position near the Cargo One door. Ulpius ignored Cordus, but said to Blaesus, “There you go, old man. Best we could do on such short notice.”

  Blaesus turned away from Ulpius with a scowl.

  “You probably don’t remember me,” Ulpius said. “My father worked on your Tribune campaigns before you became a Senator. I was just a kid then, but he brought me to your offices. You paid me five sesterces for every bundle of pamphlets I passed out, even though the going rate was two.”

  Blaesus continued staring at a corner of the hold and didn’t say anything.

  Ulpius frowned. “Don’t like doing this is all I’m trying to say.” He then turned back to the Cargo One hatch.

  “I remember Vitus Ulpius quite well,” Blaesus said with a scratchy voice, still staring at the corner. “Tireless campaigner. Brought many votes to my slate that I never would have gathered on my own. Loyal man.” Blaesus turned his eyes to Ulpius. “Too bad those qualities were never learned by his son.”

  Ulpius whirled around. “I am loyal to the Republic, old man! Unlike you, who sold yourself to these Liberti mercenaries. Do you believe in anything anymore?”

  Cordus stood. Piso and Duran held their pulse rifles higher, the barrels pointed at Cordus’s head.

  “Easy, sir,” Duran said quietly. “Don’t want to shoot you, but I will if you get foolish.”

  “I believe in loyalty to my crew,” Blaesus said, ignoring Cordus and the others. “The young Centuriae over there saved your miserable lives on Reantium, and this is how you repay him?” Blaesus started coughing. When he gained control again, he gasped, “Nothing more to say to you.”

  Ulpius shook his head and then strode out of the hold, followed by the three legionaries. When they left, Cordus saw Aquilina standing in the hatchway.

  “Come with me, Centuriae,” she said. “We need to chat.”

  “I’m not leaving my crew,” Cordus said.

  She sighed. “Come with me now or I shoot one of your friends.” To emphasize the point, she drew her pulse pistol and held it at her side.

  Cordus looked from Blaesus to Daryush to Dariya. They all wore defiant expressions. He felt both proud and humbled that people he respected so much would have so much faith and loyalty in him. He loved them all and would do anything to protect them.

  Even ignore his pride and follow Aquilina’s orders.

  He strode toward the hatch. Aquilina stepped back to let him exit, but she kept her pulse pistol at the ready. The Romans in the corridor behind her also maintained their aim on Cordus.

  He stopped in front of her. “Where should we chat?”

  “Galley,” she said, and then motioned him forward with her pistol. Cordus climbed the ladder up to the second deck, the Romans following him.

  When he reached the galley, he sat down at the small table facing the door. Aquilina handed her pulse pistol to Ulpius and then entered the galley. She shut the hatch so that only the two of them remained.

  “So let’s chat,” Cordus snapped.

  Aquilina folded her arms. “Aren’t you the least bit curious as to who I am and what I’m doing?”

  “Sure. You destroyed the one chance I had at rescuing the two people I love most. So yes, I’m a bit curious.”

  “I understand your frustration, Marcus Antonius—”

  “My name is Titus.”

  “You are Marcus Antonius Cordus, the Consular Heir to the Roman Republic.”

  “I never claimed such a thing.”

  “Your crew thinks you’re Cordus, as confirmed by your ship’s tabulari. And your former Centuriae was Kaeso Aemilius, the same man held at the Praetorian South Pole Detention Center six years ago. Who was chased to Menota by Quintus Atius Lepidus, a respected Praetorian veteran. We don’t know what changed Lepidus on Menota, but we all know what he did when he returned to Roma.” She raised her eyebrows questioningly. “Any of this knocking loose a memory?”

  Cordus leaned forward. “And just who are you, Aquilina? Some traitorous Umbra Ancile who sold herself to the Romans? How did you keep your little side project from Umbra? I’ve heard they deal harshly and swiftly with traitors.”

  Aquilina smiled, creating a small dimple in her cheek. “I’m not an Ancile. I’m Praetorian.”

  “You have an implant—”

  “I do. But never discount Roman ingenuity.”

  And then it hit Cordus. Ocella’s betrayal…

  When Ocella had helped Cordus leave Roma, she had to protect him from not only the Romans, but Umbra, who wanted him dead for the same reasons the Romans wanted to keep him—because he could control the Muses infecting him. She had infiltrated the Praetorian Guard to assassinate Cordus, but was convinced not to do it by a Saturnist Praetorian she respected. To protect Cordus from Umbra, she betrayed her oaths and her fellow Ancilia by giving the Praetorians the names of all the Ancilia in Roma. It was a coup that earned her the appreciation of Cordus’s father…and her choice of Praetorian assignments. She chose Cordus’s security detail, which enabled her to smuggle Cordus out of Roma.

  Her betrayal had cost Umbra not only the lives of its Ancilia, but apparently the implant tech in their brains. Implants were no bigger than the tip of a fingernail and were supposed to dissolve upon the deaths of their hosts. The Praetorians must have salvaged some of the tech to create their own implant network.

  And Aquilina was one of them.

  “Yes,” she said, seeing his understanding dawn. “Ocella’s betrayal was quite the boon to the Praetorian Guard. While we don’t have the experience of our Umbra adversaries, we now have the same tech. It’s only a matter of time and practice before we achieve field parity as well.”

  “All this time when you said you were in contact with Umbra—”

  “Lying.”

  “And the others? All that tension between them and you?”

  “My team is well trained in the dramatic arts. Helps with deep cover assignments like this one. It made you trust them a bit more, eh?”

  Cordus didn’t say anything. He was too angry and humiliated to come up with something intelligent.

  “But somehow you can communicate with my implant,” Aquilina said in a thoughtful voice. “So either you have one, or…”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m a Liberti merchant who just wants to rescue his friends and go home. Just tell me what you want so I can spit in your face.”

  She stood straight. “Come with me,” she ordered, then opened the galley hatch. The Romans outside t
he hatch aimed their weapons at Cordus. He followed Aquilina to the deck ladder, which she climbed toward the command deck.

  On the command deck, Aquilina motioned to the command couch. “Sit. Don’t worry, I’ve disabled all the controls in case temptation gets the better of you.”

  A weapon prodded his back, so he sat in the command couch. Aquilina sat in the pilot’s couch and tapped the controls on her tabulari.

  “These images came in through the long-range scopes ten minutes ago,” she said, nodding to his tabulari.

  The display showed a long-range image of Libertus. The entire, sun-lit half filled his screen. It did not have the fine detail of a short-range scope, but Cordus could make out the continents and cloud patterns—

  Slowly, almost imperceptibly, thousands of dark-gray dots formed on the continents. They seemed more pronounced in the green regions. The dots expanded until they became circles of gray. The circles expanded until they met each other, covering all the continents in a gray color that could only signal death.

  “The vessel released a toxin into the planet’s atmosphere,” Aquilina reported. “From what we can tell, it took less than ten hours to destroy all life on the surface of Libertus.”

  Cordus could imagine the horror of it as vividly as if he were experiencing it first hand. Most of the three billion people on Libertus were so surprised by the suddenness of the toxin that they died where they stood. Some heard of the toxin via com networks before it reached them and chose to spend their final moments huddled together in the arms of their loved ones. Crying parents held frightened children in the cellars of their homes; elderly spouses grasped hands while sitting outside watching the sky; complete strangers huddled in bomb shelters listening in horror to announcers on the emergency com channels scream and then die, one by one.

  “Libertus is dead,” Aquilina said quietly.

  Cordus stared at the expanding gray, his body cold. He swallowed, and then whispered, “The vessel?”

  “Com from the survivors say it left through the alpha way line above Libertus.”

  All those people…the symbol of freedom…gone within hours. The vessel had taken on the strongest fleet of warships humanity had ever produced and swatted it away like flies. Now it was gone and could be anywhere in human space now. The Libertus way line went to Radiatus, which had multiple way lines to other Lost Worlds and Roman space.

  “You can’t save Libertus,” Aquilina said, “but you can save other worlds.”

  “By doing what?” Cordus asked, still staring at the dead world on his tabulari.

  “Give us the codes to your quantum way line engines. I can reprogram the coordinates, but I can’t engage the engines without the centuriae codes. We’re stuck here unless I can do that. We can go to Terra and gather a force that can—”

  “Wait,” Cordus said. “Wait, wait, wait. Why are you asking this now? Why not days ago when we could have gathered that force to fight for Libertus?”

  Her gaze was locked on a point over his shoulder.

  “Because you wanted Libertus to die,” Cordus whispered. “Gods…”

  “I was under orders,” Aquilina said, but she didn’t sound convinced. “My loyalty is to the Republic. I wouldn’t expect you to understand that.”

  Cordus shook his head. “It’s as if the Muses still control you. Nothing has changed. Roma is still infected with monsters.”

  Aquilina’s eyes blazed. “You have no idea what it’s been like in Roma and Terra for the last six years. It’s been a non-stop series of vile warlords trying to create their own dynasties. They come to power and then use the Praetorian Guard to kill off their rivals. Even the Praetorian Guard has had its own civil war. But two years ago a strong leader came to power and ended all that. She has brought order to Roma and Terra. I am fighting to keep the monsters out of the Republic.”

  “Vibia Servilia Gemmella,” Cordus scoffed. “She’s strong because her enemies killed each other off.”

  “Regardless, Roma has a strong leader that can bring peace to the Republic. But Libertus never wanted a Roma at peace. The more Romans fought each other, the more Libertus profited. From weapons to food, Libertus filled the markets vacated by Roma. Umbra wanted Roma to die. This alien vessel was just the gods-granted opportunity Roma had been waiting for to protect itself from Umbra and Liberti plots.”

  “Libertus never wanted Roma to die! Umbra was the only weapon Libertus had to defend itself against Roma. It was the only thing that kept Libertus free for two hundred years, or it would’ve fallen long ago. Libertus had every reason to fear Roma, not the other way around.”

  “How do you know?”

  “Because my—!”

  Cordus was so angry and grief-stricken at the moment that he couldn’t concentrate on holding his tongue around Aquilina. Because my Muses told me. He stopped himself, but realized from Aquilina’s face that it was too late.

  “Which brings us to the second problem with which I need your help,” Aquilina said quietly. “You are Marcus Antonius Cordus, the last of the Antonii. And your people need you now.”

  Marcus Antonius Primus appeared between Cordus and Aquilina. “Finally, a worshipper. Give us the word, and she will be groveling at your feet.”

  I swore I’d never do that again.

  Marcus sighed. “Then get used to life in the cargo hold.” He stepped back and sat in the delta couch behind Cordus.

  “Why do you think I’m—?”

  “Please, just stop denying it,” Aquilina said. She exhaled an exasperated sigh and then stared at him. “Do you know what I’ve been doing the last year? Tracking down Antonii pretenders. They pop up every now and then like weeds, claiming to be you. They try to raise a legion or gain the support of a warlord. Some get so far as to become a threat.” Her voice turned hard. “It’s been my job to track them down and eliminate them before they become a threat.”

  Cordus snorted. “Gemmella doesn’t want any competition, eh?”

  “It’s not like that. She wants to eliminate pretenders, yes. But she’s also searching for you. She believes in the rumors that you still live, and she thinks you can unite the Republic if you return. So my mission has been two-fold: Kill the pretenders, but bring you back if I find you.”

  “You trust Gemmella’s word? That she would give up power to the last Antonius? She only says that because it makes her sound like a reluctant ruler and a patriot. She’s just another dictator who wants to cement her status in the hearts of the people.”

  Aquilina shook her head. “She’s different.”

  “How can you be so—?”

  “She’s my mother.”

  Cordus paused, his mouth half open, then said, “Mothers have been known to lie to their children.”

  “Not in this case. I’ve watched her obsession with you over the last six years. She’s a believer.”

  “Well it doesn’t matter. What makes you think I’m not just another pretender?”

  Aquilina’s voice blasted in his mind. “BECAUSE PRETENDERS CAN’T HEAR THIS.”

  Cordus flinched at not only the power behind the voice but at how it felt like a hot dagger in the base of his skull. Aquilina watched him with a materializing smirk.

  Behind him, Antonius grunted. “Gods, the girl has a set of lungs on her.”

  Aquilina leaned forward. “If you should return, the civil war would end almost instantly. Every major player, from my mother down to the petty warlords, claim they are the true inheritors of the Antonii. So if the last Antonius should appear and claim the consulship, after every one has paid your family such homage, then they’d all bend their knees to you whether they want to or not. My mother certainly would.”

  Cordus abruptly stood up from the command couch. Piso and Duran stepped forward, their pistols aimed at his head, but Cordus ignored them. He stared down at Aquilina. She had not flinched when he stood, but the muscles in her face had tightened, and she was still.

  Through clenched teeth, Cordus said, “I’m
not going to help you.” He turned to Piso, who continued to aim a pistol at him. “Take me back to Cargo One.”

  “I’ll kill your friends if you don’t help,” Aquilina said from behind him.

  Cordus turned and studied her. She continued to stare at the empty command couch.

  “Will you?”

  “I just let three billion people die,” she said quietly.

  Cordus stared at her for a long time. Marcus, can you get into her implant? Can you tell if she’s lying?

  Antonius turned and studied Aquilina. “Hmm. Her thoughts are not integrated with her implant, so we cannot see any specific deception. But we do hear conflict outside the implant. For what it’s worth, young Antonius, she’s struggling with something, but she is determined to follow a course of action.”

  Cordus learned all this in an instant, and it took only another instant to come up with a plan. “Release my crew. Swear they will not be harmed…and I will give you the centuriae codes. And then we will get Kaeso and Ocella. And then you can do with me whatever you want.” He leaned forward and said, “But I am Titus Aemilius Cordus. I am not the last Antonius.”

  “Well,” she said. “This is progress. You have a bargain, Centuriae.”

  Marcus grunted. “Show us what you’re planning, young Antonius.”

  When Cordus did, Marcus smiled.

  25

  Ocella lay on the gel bed staring at the opening to the endless corridor. No sound came from the corridor. No sound came from anything in the room besides Kaeso’s breathing beside her and the occasional stomach growls from them all. The opening had not closed since the Lucia-golem entered.

  Its body still lay on the floor where Kaeso had beaten it to death hours ago.

  Had it been hours? Days, weeks, months? She had no idea, and she was at the point where she didn’t care.

  Apathy was dangerous and led to defeat, yet how could she not feel defeated right now? Libertus was dead, Kaeso was as non-responsive as a way liner who had stayed conscious during a jump, and she was stuck inside an alien prison with a corridor outside that went to infinity in both directions. She knew the corridor simply went in a circle around the vast ship, but even that logical explanation held no reassurance.