Muses of Terra (Codex Antonius Book 2)

by Rob Steiner

  Cordus had memories of staring at maps and locating a valley through which Octavian’s forces had to travel to reach Alexandria. Marcus then set an ambush with the prototype muskets and cannons they had developed. They only had 1,000 soldiers, enough muskets for a squad, and four cannons to take on a force of 20,000 battle-hardened Roman Legionaries.

  But Octavian’s forces had never encountered muskets or cannon before. Marcus had waited for Octavian’s Legions to enter the valley, then fired his muskets and cannons at strategic targets within the mass of troops. The fire was not meant to inflict mass casualties, for the force was too big—the fire was meant to take out generals and tribunes and induce panic.

  And induce panic they did. With the explosive sounds and the virtually invisible death of musket balls, the Legionaries panicked and fled either up or down the valley, where Antonius’s meager army was waiting for them. In such a bottleneck, Octavian’s forces were slaughtered.

  It was the beginning of the end for Octavian, for he never again mustered a force that even threatened Antonius.

  “We’ll tell you what he did,” Marcus continued, answering his own question. “He used the power we gave him to surprise a foe that outnumbered him twenty to one.”

  I won’t use the aura.

  “Then you are a stubborn fool!” Cordus glared at Antonius, who quickly raised his hands. “The way we see it is you can either control your destiny or let it roll over you and take you where it wills.”

  You sound like a flamen of Fortuna. Since when did you become a philosopher?

  “We’ve existed for 20 million years. We’ve learned a thing or two during that time.”

  Cordus sat down on the cot beside Marcus and leaned his back against the wall. I spent so much of my childhood hating this place that, even now, knowing I’m in the Consular Palace turns my stomach into knots. Great Jupiter, my whole childhood felt like being stuck in this cell.

  Cordus brought his knees up and put his arms around them. I just want to be like Kaeso and Ocella. Be some anonymous Saturnist soldier, doing my part to fight the Muses. I spent twelve years as Consular Heir, and it was twelve too many. Being consul means being in a cage.

  “There’s no such thing as true freedom, young Antonius. Everyone has responsibilities. Some men must toil in the fields to feed their families; others have to rule an empire. Again, our point is don’t run from your destiny—grab it with both hands and bend it to your will.”

  Fine words from a virus that enslaved billions of humans throughout history, not to mention all the other species you’ve infected.

  “And that kind of success didn’t come from us moping in a prison cell with our arms wrapped around our knees.”

  Cordus stood and began pacing again. I will not use the aura. Aquilina should know that, especially after what I did to her. Why would she even suggest it?

  “She smells of desperation. What could make her so desperate that she would suggest you do the one thing she knows you would never do?”

  Cordus paused. Her mother is in danger.

  “Maybe. Could be a number of things. You may want to ask her next time.”

  Cordus realized he never did ask her what could make her so desperate. He’d been so angry that he hadn’t thought of it.

  He knew she was correct, along with Marcus Antonius, to some extent. Cruising the universe with his friends was something he wanted to do, but was it something he could do knowing he’d doom billions of people? The idea of one person—him—being so important was absurd. It was something he had scoffed at his whole life.

  But what if it were true? What if he could save lives by accepting the destiny people were constantly telling him to accept?

  He had wanted to be with Kaeso and Ocella and the rest of the Vacuna crew because they treated him like a normal human being. But he was not a normal human being. One look at Marcus Antonius beside him proved—

  He felt as if a gear had clicked into place in his mind. His heart raced with hope at his new insight, even though an old fear clawed its way into his thoughts.

  Marcus, tell me how the Muses communicate.

  35

  For the first time in months, Ocella felt the sun’s heat on her skin. She was on a Terran-class planet. She wore no EVA suit. She lay on her back in a large field beneath a blue sky, a warm breeze bending the tall grass around her. Peace consumed her, and all she wanted to do was stare at the wisps of clouds floating across the—

  She sat up quickly. The field in which she sat seemed endless. The grass stretched flat in all directions, from horizon to horizon. No cities or towns dotted the landscape, nor could she see any tracks indicating how she arrived here. And she was alone.

  She stood, turned around and around, searching for something—anything—besides tall grass. Nothing.

  “Kaeso,” she breathed. Then she shouted, “Kaeso!”

  Her voice seemed small and was swallowed by the infinite grassland, not even an echo to alleviate her sudden loneliness.

  She tried to remember what had happened just before she opened her eyes. The memories slammed into her with the force of an anti-matter missile. The pain. Stepping through the film of light. The dark corridor. Holding Kaeso. Varo, Claudia, the octopods, and their imprisonment on the alien vessel. Memories before that came back to her in a torrent so vivid she had to stop thinking of them before the crush overwhelmed her.

  She squeezed her eyes shut. “Kaeso!”

  “Ocella,” came Kaeso’s voice from beside her.

  She jumped, opened her eyes. Kaeso stood beside her looking as confused as she felt.

  “Where are we?” he asked.

  She ignored his question and wrapped her arms around him. He returned her embrace with equal strength. They held each other for a long time before Ocella pulled away and stared up at him.

  “Do you remember anything after the light?” she asked.

  He winced. “No. We walked in and then I was here. But when I try to remember things before the light…it’s too much.”

  “Like you’re reliving it again, with all your senses.”

  Kaeso looked uneasy as he scanned the grasslands. “This is like when I stayed awake during the way line jump. It all seems real, but it’s not.”

  “You think we’re in a way line? But the vessel has gone through the way lines before and we never…” A cold feeling gripped Ocella’s chest. “Do you think all this time we’ve been in a way line dream?”

  He shook his head. “I don’t know about before, but I’d wager we are now. Popping into existence right next to you doesn’t happen in the real world.”

  “Where’s Varo? And Claudia and the octopods?”

  Kaeso didn’t answer.

  Ocella scanned the horizons again. Nothing stood out from the endless grass. “I wish there was a landmark. A building, a hill, a godsdamned tree.”

  “What about that?” He pointed behind her, and she turned.

  A huge columned building stood a quarter of a mile away. It looked like the Temple of Jupiter Optimus Maximus in Roma. Its red-tiled roof gleamed in the bright sun, and Ocella could even make out the bas-relief scenes just beneath the roof.

  Kaeso stared at the building. “I was just thinking that I wanted answers, and then I saw that.”

  “Earlier, I was wishing for you and then you appeared. Wherever we are, it’s not the physical world. Maybe we’re…”

  Ocella didn’t want to think she was dead, but she thought that if this was Elysium, perhaps she would find Cordus—

  No, the boy is still alive. I can’t be dead.

  Kaeso didn’t respond, but there was eagerness in his eyes. If they were dead, then maybe the real Claudia was in that temple.

  Or Petra.

  A pang of jealousy swept through Ocella. If this is the afterlife, then it feels no different than real life. So petty things like jealousy still exist here? Perhaps stories of the gods’ human emotions were real after all.

  They walked side-by-sid
e toward the temple, taking their time, for they both seemed to feel like they had all the time they wanted in this place. The closer they got to the Ttemple, the more it made the real Temple in Roma seem like a shadowy counterfeit. This Temple glowed with white light that emanated from the very structure itself. It hummed with a soothing power that put Ocella’s fears and doubts at ease. The columns and architecture of the entire building were flawless, without scratch or blemish.

  It was exactly how she had imagined the home of the gods.

  Ocella and Kaeso ascended the white marble stairs to the temple’s open doors, two wooden behemoths two stories high and a story wide, each as polished and perfect as the rest of the building. Through the entrance gleamed columns and polished gray floors. Sunlight streamed through openings above, and terraces ran along the upper stories. Marble statues of the minor gods and legendary heroes lined the walls to her left and right. She found she could recall the names and histories of each god or person the statues represented. It was like she still had an Umbra implant.

  At the far end of the building stood three thrones, and each held a god of the Capitoline Triad.

  Jupiter Optimus Maximus, king of all the gods, sat in the middle. His back was straight in his marble throne. He had a well-muscled chest and an angular face framed by dark-brown hair and a beard. He wore a white toga that shone as bright as the temple’s marble columns.

  To his right sat Juno, goddess of war, Jupiter’s wife and chief councilor. Her braided auburn hair hung in loops over her shoulder, her complexion like alabaster.

  To Jupiter’s left sat Minerva, daughter of Jupiter and goddess of wisdom. She was just as beautiful as Juno, with similar features like the braided auburn hair and perfect complexion. But on Minerva’s shoulder stood a large gray and white owl as tall as one of Ocella’s arms. Its black eyes regarded Ocella with the same imperiousness as the three gods.

  Kaeso suddenly laughed. Ocella glanced at him and then at the gods. All three stared at him with narrowed eyes.

  “If you’re gods,” Kaeso said, “then I’m Romulus’s bitch mother.”

  “Kaeso,” Ocella murmured, putting a hand on his forearm. Perhaps they were in a way line dream, or perhaps not. She wasn’t about to insult these beings until she knew which was true.

  Jupiter’s hand clenched the armrest of the throne on which he sat, and he leaned forward. “A mortal with no faith,” he said with a rumbling voice. It did not boom throughout the temple, but Ocella could feel it vibrate every cell in her body. “Do you think you are the first to doubt us?”

  “Hardly,” Kaeso said. “But I’ve been awake through a way line before. I know how it plays with your mind. You’re not real; this temple isn’t real. You’re just the Muses doing what you’ve always done—pretending to be more important than you are.”

  Ocella wanted to stop Kaeso. She feared that if this was Elysium, then the gods would capriciously throw her into the underworld for all eternity, and she’d never see Cordus again.

  But a part of her wanted to see how they responded to Kaeso’s accusations.

  Jupiter stared at Kaeso for a long time, and then he turned to Juno. The beautiful queen of the gods shrugged. Jupiter then turned to Minerva, who gave him a knowing smile.

  He turned back to Kaeso. “Very well, mortal. We are not your gods.”

  We’re still alive, Ocella thought. She wasn’t sure if she was relieved or horrified.

  Jupiter turned his piercing gaze upon her. “No, mortal, you are very much dead.”

  Ocella stared at him. You can read my thoughts?

  “Of course we can, child,” Minerva said. Her owl fluttered its wings and shifted on her shoulder when she spoke. “We may not be gods in the sense you believe. But here, in this place, we are gods.”

  “What do you mean we’re dead?” Ocella asked Jupiter.

  He fixed her with a cruel gaze. “When you walked through that corridor, your bodies died. Now your mind is here, waiting.”

  When Jupiter said no more, Kaeso grunted. “Fine, I’ll play along. What are we waiting for?”

  Jupiter smiled. “Your new golem bodies. You will be centurions in our army when we invade Terra.”

  36

  Aquilina entered Cordus’s cell, shut the door, and then stood before him with her arms folded. Her gaze could have frozen a star. “You have something to say?”

  Cordus drew in a breath. “You said you have devices that mimic Muse communication. Can I see them?”

  “Why?”

  “Because I have an idea of how to stop the alien vessel.”

  “Tell me.”

  Cordus held up a hand. “First, what kind of interface do your implant communicators use?”

  “It’s neural. One person on this end wears a wired head net that captures brain waves and then transmits them to someone with an implant. But we can’t speak to each other like a normal com since there’s a com lag—they send a message to me, I hear it, then I send a message back. Lag time can be up to a minute.”

  “So only one person on this end can communicate with one other person with an implant at a time?”

  “Yes, but we’re working on expanding the users who can participate.”

  “Good,” Cordus muttered to himself. Perhaps the gods are with us after all.

  Aquilina looked at him expectantly. “And your idea is…?”

  Cordus explained what he wanted to do. She took it much better than he had expected—she simply stared at him with a blank face. “You’re joking.”

  “I know it’s a little desperate—”

  “‘Desperate’? Try insane. Nobody will agree to that.”

  “And if that vessel finds Terra, what then? You know what it did to Libertus.”

  Aquilina let down her Praetorian mask for just a second, and Cordus saw the terror in her eyes.

  “It has found Terra, hasn’t it?” he said quietly.

  She nodded. “We think so. Since it left Libertus, it’s taken the most direct way line route to Terra. It comes through the way line, kills the nearest planet, and then jumps through the next way line that leads here. Every ship that tries to attack it is destroyed. If it stays on its current course and speed, it will be here in four days.”

  Aquilina sat down on the cot, her shoulders slumped. “News has spread throughout human space about this thing. The Roman factions are gathering their ships for Terra’s defense, at least the ones they’re willing to give. Even the Zhonguo are sending ships, though it’s a token few. They’re keeping the bulk of their fleet for defense of their own worlds. Can’t say we wouldn’t do the same—”

  “Aquilina,” Cordus said, sitting down next to her. “We have no other choice.”

  She shook her head. “What you’re suggesting is like killing the patient to stop the disease.”

  “Yes, there are risks. But if that vessel gets here, there won’t be a Terra to salvage. You know all of humanity’s warships wouldn’t stop this thing. This is the only way.”

  He put his hand on top of hers, and she suddenly turned her hand over and squeezed his. She had the eyes of a drowning woman.

  “Promise me this will work,” she said in a shaky whisper. “Promise me you will make this work.”

  Cordus squeezed back. His heart raced at being so close to her, the scent of her hair, the warmth of her hands and body. He wanted desperately to tell her anything she wanted to hear, anything that would ease her fears and give her hope.

  But he knew his plan was desperate, suicidal, and probably wouldn’t work. Where was the hope in that?

  He licked his lips. “I promise I will do all I can to protect my people.”

  Her eyes softened. She put a hesitant hand on his cheek, and Cordus flinched at the jolt that went through his body. He had the sudden urge to kiss her with all the passion that had built up in him since he met her, despite being in a prison cell and talking about the possible death of the Roman Republic. None of it mattered at that the moment.

 
“Very well,” she whispered. Then she stood, suddenly all business. “First, we have to get you out of here.”

  Cordus wanted to weep at losing such a moment to his hesitation, but he gathered his wits and said, “Isn’t this cell monitored?”

  She shook her head once. “They didn’t want a record of you being held, especially if you ended up being consul. The only way you’ll be truly safe is if you publicly declare yourself now.”

  A shudder went through Cordus. He clenched his teeth and nodded slowly. “So how do I get out of this cell to do that?”

  Aquilina grinned. “I have an idea. By the time I’m done, they’ll be begging you to leave.”

  37

  The cell door opened, awaking Cordus from a rare moment of sleep. He sat up in his cot. Aquilina strode in, gave him a quick wink, and then stepped aside to let in Vibia Servillia Gemmella, Dictator of the Roman Republic. Up close, Cordus noticed she had the same piercing brown eyes as Aquilina.

  “This is what’s going to happen,” she said in a tone that would not allow negotiation. “When we leave this cell, we will go to the steps of the Consular Palace. There, among the news criers, senators, and assembled citizens, you will confirm that you are indeed Marcus Antonius Cordus.”

  News criers, senators, and citizens? Just how many people are out there? Juno have mercy…. Cordus suddenly felt sick, and it took all his will to keep from vomiting on the Dictator’s shoes.

  Gemmella continued, “You will also announce that in the interests of a smooth transition in these times of crisis, you will work with my administration on the legal path toward your ascension to the consulship. In the meantime, I will continue my duties as dictator until such a transition can occur peacefully. I’ve prepared your complete statement.”

  She raised a hand, and one of her assistants behind her gave her a slate. Without looking at the assistant, she handed the slate to Cordus. “I suggest you memorize this, as it will appear more authentic than you simply reading it. I trust one with your…abilities should have no trouble remembering six sentences.”