Muses of Terra (Codex Antonius Book 2)

by Rob Steiner

  The com chimed, and Cordus opened the channel.

  “Vacuna, this is Roma Flight Control. Proceed to Terran flight path 001-001. You are cleared all the way to landing.”

  “Only the consul gets a path like that,” Aquilina said.

  Cordus ignored her and responded, “Acknowledged, Roma Flight Control. Proceeding to path 001-001. Vacuna, out.”

  The path would take them directly to the Palatine Hill and a landing pad within the Consular Palace grounds. Cordus remembered the flight path well. It was the one he and his family took when they returned from visiting Republic worlds.

  Cordus programmed the path into the tabulari, and then let the ship fly itself.

  “Your medical team will be waiting for us when we land, correct?”

  “Yes.”

  “And Dariya and Daryush—”

  “I told you, they will not be arrested.”

  Cordus nodded. “Because if none of those conditions are met, I will admit to being nothing more than a freighter centuriae through my dying breaths.”

  Aquilina gave him a severe look. “I know I haven’t given you much reason to trust me, but you have to now.”

  “You didn’t trust me with the way line codes. You entered them yourself, remember?”

  She shifted in the command couch. “Trust comes in small steps and is built over time. You will come to trust me once you see me honor the bargain we made. And I will come to trust you when you honor your side. I know that even now you’re trying to figure a way out of declaring yourself. But for my part, I swear upon all the gods of the Pantheon that I will honor my side of the bargain.”

  She sounded convincing to Cordus. Of course, she had said many things that turned out to be lies. But she was right about one thing—he had to trust her. If he didn’t, he might as well turn the ship around now.

  “So you’ve been communicating with Roma all along through your implant?”

  “Yes, but it’s one-way, like sending a letter through couriers.”

  “How? Umbra Ancilia had to use live Muses for their implants to work. I thought the Terran Muses were extinct.”

  The Muses in Cordus whispered in protest, saying they were not extinct, but he ignored them.

  Aquilina shrugged. “We figured out how to communicate like them. Think of it as tapping into a com channel on the far end of the spectrum that only had static before. We found it wasn’t all static, and that there were signals we never noticed. So we created implants that could tap into those signals.”

  “You’re saying you have interstellar com that doesn’t require Muses?”

  She smiled. “You’ll see when we get to Roma. Things have changed quite a bit since you left.”

  “Remarkable,” Cordus muttered. “Umbra and the Saturnists couldn’t figure that out.”

  She eyed him with annoyance. “You always discount Roman ingenuity. It was Roma that brought humanity out of technological darkness, after all.”

  “It wasn’t just Roma.”

  “Yes, the Muses gave the consul direction in their ‘Missives of the Gods’. But the thousands—millions—of engineers throughout the centuries who built those things were not infected. They provided their own innovations that took us in directions the Muses never described. The Missives were not detailed plans, just high-level theories. Human beings figured out how to build those things. Roman human beings. You should take pride in your heritage, Marcus Antonius Cordus. You’ll be leading us soon.”

  Cordus remained silent. He wished he could believe in Roma like Aquilina did. He wished he could trust her to ensure the safety of Blaesus, Dariya, and Daryush.

  He wished he could trust himself.

  The bumps that the ship’s inertia cancellers did not suppress brought Cordus back to the flight. White plasma formed around the command deck windows as Vacuna collided with Terra’s atmosphere. After several minutes the plasma dissipated, and Cordus could see out the window. It was night over Roma, and high, bilious clouds were illuminated by the full moon. Some clouds were heavy with storms, lightning flashing throughout them.

  He was a bit disappointed at the obscuring clouds. As a child, his favorite part of space travel had always been re-entry. On clear days he could see the European and African continents, and the deep blue of the Mediterranean, spread out before the ship like a vast latrunculi board. He would stare out the window of the shuttle and watch the ‘boot’ of Italia grow closer, and then the gleaming steel and glass buildings of Roman suburbas, which covered the middle third of Italia.

  Thanks to his Muses, he had the memories of his ancient ancestors and would wonder what they would think of the sight before him. But all he had to do was look at his parents and siblings in the shuttle seats next to him to know—complete apathy. While Cordus would marvel at Terra’s beauty, his family would either sit motionless in a Muse-addled trance or be giving orders to their secretaries. The Terran Muses never appreciated beauty, only power.

  Now, flying back to Roma at night and through dense dark clouds, Cordus couldn’t help but appreciate the symbolism of it—he was flying home, but into a dark storm he could not control.

  Winds buffeted Vacuna, and Cordus noticed Aquilina shift in the command couch. “This ship can travel to any point in the universe, but you can’t install a decent inertia canceling system?”

  “Not enough room. Turbulence make you nervous?”

  When Aquilina didn’t say anything, Cordus grinned. “Finally, something that scares the great Praetorian Aquilina Servillia.”

  “I prefer not to be pushed around by something I cannot see.”

  “Didn’t your Praetorian training include jumping out of aero-flyers?”

  “That’s different. I can control my parachute.”

  “So it’s about control?”

  She looked at him. “What does that mean?”

  “It means you and I are alike. We want to control our own lives. We don’t like to be buffeted by unseen forces. We prefer to work alone. Basically the exact opposite of being a consul.”

  She sighed. “I watched you lead my men on Reantium. They were not acting—they followed you because they wanted to, and they are not easy to impress. I see the way your crew looks to you, even though you became their centuriae through a field promotion. And they seem even harder to impress than my men. I know you don’t want to be consul and that it terrifies you to your bones, but I believe it’s something you can do.”

  Cordus stared out the command deck windows. “I have no choice in the matter anyway.”

  “For what it’s worth, I’m sorry.”

  “Thanks, I suppose.”

  “Too many people want to be consul, and they’re always the ones who shouldn’t be consul. Perhaps its time for someone to take the job who doesn’t want it.”

  “Makes me the ideal candidate,” Cordus murmured.

  When Vacuna emerged from a dense bank of low clouds, the lights of Roma spread out before them. They were two miles up, but the city’s lights still reached from horizon to horizon. Raindrops tapped against the windows, then flew off in streaks from the ship’s speed. Cordus’s tabulari verified they were still on course toward the Palatine landing pad in the center of Roma.

  “When we land,” Cordus said, “will they—?” He looked at Aquilina, but her eyes were glassy and stared at a point much farther away than her tabulari. Is that how I look when Marcus Antonius is talking to me?

  She blinked, and then a haunted expression fell over her.

  “What is it?” Cordus asked.

  “It was my mother. She wants to see us at once. She will meet us personally at the landing pad.”

  “The great Dictator herself will greet me? I’m honored.”

  Aquilina remained stone-faced before Cordus’s attempted levity, and he suddenly felt foolish. “Has something happened?”

  “She didn’t say, and that’s what worries me. She confides in me about everything, especially over implant com. She didn’t this time.”
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  “Do you think she no longer trusts you?”

  Aquilina scowled. “Of course she trusts me, I’m her daughter. What worries me is that she may no longer trust the implant com. If someone can tap into that, we would lose our most secure com.”

  “Who could do that?”

  Aquilina frowned. “One powerful warlord, a former senator named Quintus Arrius Wendatus, managed to buy off some Praetorian engineers who were close to our Muse-based research. Arrius is my mother’s biggest rival, and they’ve had many battles over the last two years, but none decisive enough for either to gain an advantage. If he can tap into our Muse com, or gods forbid use implants…”

  “We’ll find out either way in a minute. We’re at the Palatine.”

  Just as he remembered, the Palatine Hill was alit with multi-colored lights that illuminated the historic and massive Consular Palace. Beyond the Palace, on the Capitoline Hill to the northwest, sat the structures that were the heart of Roma—the ancient Senate House and the Temple of Jupiter Optimus Maximus, also gloriously alit. Each building had the iconic, towering marble columns and ornate bas-reliefs just below red-tiled roofs. A powerful nostalgia swept through Cordus at the sight. While his childhood was mostly a nightmare of feeling like a prisoner, the hours he spent exploring those structures were among the few bright spots.

  Vacuna landed in the middle of a landing pad surrounded by a vast garden within the Consular Palace’s walls. The pad was large enough to hold four ships of Vacuna’s size, but this night it was clear.

  Memories of the garden and the palace assaulted him with surreal intensity. The massive olive tree from which he had fallen when he was seven still towered over the lesser trees a dozen paces beyond the landing pad. The Fountain of Diana near the olive tree still spouted water fed from the ancient Aqua Marcia aqueduct that served the Consular Palace with water from the Valles Anio east of Roma. The palace columns and terraces surrounding the garden brought Cordus back to the days when as a child he would explore each one by himself, wondering why he was so different from his family. Wondering how he could escape.

  He glanced at the path that led through the garden to the palace. As he suspected, a dozen or so toga-clad officials and red-uniformed soldiers stood nearby waiting for the ship to land. Off to one side, a group wearing light-green medical suits with matching head covers stood near a stretcher. Before them all stood a trim older woman dressed in a red Legion uniform, a purple sash draped over her right shoulder and chest signifying the Dictator’s “temporary” post as the “first among equals”. She had more gray in her close-cropped hair than black. Her back was straight and her chin level. Cordus got the impression that despite her current role, Vibia Servillia Gemmella was Legion to her core.

  Vacuna touched down with a slight bump, and Cordus powered down the engines. The ship was suddenly quiet, something that always felt strange to Cordus after days and weeks on a starship. It would take him several more days on-world to get used to the lack of a background hum.

  Aquilina arose from her couch. “Let me talk to them first. I already gave her the details of our bargain, but the senators will probably have questions.”

  Cordus frowned. “Did she tell them who I was?”

  “I told her to keep it quiet until you declared yourself, just as you asked. But if implant com has been compromised, then anyone can know. Stay on the ship until I motion for you.”

  Cordus nodded, and they both left the command deck.

  They met Dariya and Daryush in Cargo One, along with Piso, Gracchus, and Duran. Ulpius was with Blaesus, preparing him for transport to the Roman medical facilities. The three Romans seemed eager to leave the ship, while Dariya and Daryush understandably looked nervous.

  Before Cordus could approach his two crewmen, Duran stopped him. “I think you’re doing the right thing,” he said. “A lot of people will follow you. Including us.” Piso and Gracchus both nodded once in agreement.

  Cordus wasn’t sure how to respond, given they were willing to shoot him yesterday. So he simply returned their nods and then went to Dariya and Daryush.

  Before he could say anything, Dariya growled under her breath. “That old man better live through this, or by Ahura Mazda I swear my spirit shall torment his after the Romans behead ‘Ush and I for being escaped slaves.”

  “They won’t kill you,” Cordus said, trying to sound more confident than he felt. “I’ll never cooperate if they do anything less than give you official amnesty. I’m too important for them not to cooperate.” He paused. “Still…monitor the Praetorian bands Aquilina gave you. The com chatter may give you warning if things go badly. If that happens, you leave as fast as you can. Don’t look back. Understand?”

  Dariya muttered something in Persian and then nodded. She took Daryush’s hand. Her large brother was pale and seemed ready to pass out at the slightest loud noise.

  Cordus had discussed the situation with his crew before releasing Aquilina and the Romans from their delta couches. He had made it clear that if they refused to go along, he would call off his bargain with Aquilina. They both agreed to it without hesitation. Neither one liked it, but they knew Blaesus’s life was at stake, and that allying with the Romans was the only way to rescue Kaeso, Ocella, and Lucia. Cordus couldn’t imagine the courage it took for them to come back to the heart of the Republic, the place where they had once been enslaved, the place where Daryush had lost his tongue and Dariya her innocence. He prayed he could display the same courage in the days to come.

  Aquilina approached her Roman men, and they all nodded to her. She looked at Cordus. “Ready?”

  Cordus nodded. Aquilina went to the door controls and tapped them open. The door ramp hissed, then creaked and groaned as it descended. Fresh air—the familiar scents of the gardens dizzying Cordus with memories—rushed into Cargo One. Outside, the medical crew waited with their stretcher. As soon as the ramp was still, the medical crew bounded up. The lead medicus asked Aquilina, “Where is he?”

  “Piso will direct you,” she said. Piso told the crew to follow him, and he led them into the ship.

  Aquilina said to Cordus, “I’ll be right back.”

  Cordus swallowed, then nodded. He watched her stride down the ramp flanked by Gracchus and Duran. All three approached the group of Romans led by Dictator Gemmella. Cordus couldn’t hear what they said, even with his Muse-enhanced senses, but he could tell by their rigid body language that not all was well.

  Marcus Antonius walked past Cordus and stared out at the gardens. He took in a deep breath and sighed. “Ah,” he murmured. “We missed this place very much. Here is civilization. Here is where one can live like a sentient being.”

  Cordus ignored Marcus and watched Aquilina. Several toga-clad senators behind Gemmella fired heated questions at Aquilina. She stood as straight as her mother, who didn’t speak, and seemed to respond with quiet restraint. However, Cordus could see even from this distance that she was tense.

  Dariya leaned close to Cordus. “I feel uneasy, Centuriae.”

  Cordus felt the same, but he didn’t want to shake Dariya’s confidence any more than it already was. What was the problem? Did they all know who Cordus was and about his bargain with Aquilina? Were they refusing to honor it?

  The medical crew entered Cargo One with Blaesus strapped to their stretcher. The old Senator seemed a pale shell of the larger-than-life man he used to be. Cordus widened his eyes to dry the forming tears.

  Ulpius strode behind them, giving the lead medicus the history of what he had done for Blaesus. “So the way I see it, he needs massive antibiotic treatments to kill that infection. I got the pulse pellet out, but he’ll need surgery to—”

  “We know what to do, Centurion,” the lead medicus said dismissively. The grizzled Centurion frowned and clenched his teeth. He slowed to a stop near Cordus.

  Cordus watched the medical crew take Blaesus down the ramp. “Thank you for all you did for him, Centurion. I won’t forget it. No matter what happens.
”

  Ulpius nodded slowly, watching after Blaesus. “He’s a tough old dog, ain’t he?”

  “He is.”

  “He’ll make it through. Just needs some Roman medicine. Yeah, he’ll make it through.”

  Cordus didn’t know if Ulpius was trying to convince himself or Cordus.

  Ulpius finally looked at Cordus. “You’ll make it, too, sire.” He then turned and walked down the ramp.

  Cordus sighed, then glanced at Dariya. She shook her head. “Do not expect me to start doing that. All that bowing, and ‘sire’ this, and ‘my lord’ that will give you a bigger head than you already have.”

  Cordus smiled. “Thank you, Dariya. I would hope for nothing less.”

  He turned to see six Praetorian soldiers stride up the ramp, all dressed in black body armor and with pulse rifles in their hands. Aquilina walked behind them, her face tight.

  Anger simmered in Cordus. “Aquilina, the bargain was that my crew would have amnesty—”

  “Your crew is free to go where they wish,” she said. The Praetorians stopped in front of Cordus and aimed their weapons at him. “It’s you they’re arresting.”

  33

  The octopods dropped to the floor. The golem octopod went to Claudia while the other four assumed their usual stances—four tentacles splayed above them, while they stood on their rear four. Ocella put her hands on her knees and tried to suck in as much air as she could. Kaeso and Varo also breathed hard. Even the four octopods behind the golems looked tired—the four tentacles splayed above them trembled, and their bulbous bodies squeezed in and out as they drew in quick breaths.

  Claudia and the octopod golem seemed about as weary as if they’d been sitting still the whole time.

  Claudia approached Ocella, Kaeso, and Varo. “The engine room is fifty paces up the corridor.”

  Through deep breaths, Varo asked, “How can they tell? This corridor is as unchanging as ours.”

  “They can still smell their own scent from the last time they were here.”