Muses of Roma (Codex Antonius Book 1)

by Rob Steiner

  “We can call up the maps and proposal from Caduceus's network.”

  “Maybe the maps, but not the proposal. I wrote it long-hand on scrolls and now they’re floating around with all my clothes.”

  “You were a Roman Senator, for Jupiter’s sake. You can make up a speech in your sleep.”

  “Yes, I am a brilliant orator. But that’s only after I've studied my material, practiced counter arguments—”

  “Cac.” Kaeso unbuckled himself from the pilot's chair. “I'll be right there.” He floated to the hatch, then said over his shoulder to Lucia, “Don’t pester Dariya. I don't want another hissing match between you two while she fixes the gravity.”

  “I'm your trierarch,” Lucia said. “First officers are supposed to pester the crew.”

  “And stop pouting. Ping me when Vallutus is at the hatch.”

  Kaeso floated down the ladder well, pulling himself hand over hand down the rungs. As he neared the bottom, he felt the second level gravity tug at him, so he swung his body around and climbed down feet first. The full single gravity held him when he hopped down onto the corridor floor.

  Now in a normal grav corridor, Kaeso’s head did not pound as much as it had in the command deck’s zero grav. It did not improve his mood though. His ship was breaking down minutes before he met with the biggest client he ever had. He needed that client’s job to pay for docking fees at Reantium’s way station. And fuel, air, food, water...

  Nestor Samaras ducked his head through the pressure hatch just as Kaeso entered.

  “Blaesus just said the gravity is off.”

  “Dariya’s working on it.”

  Nestor was about to speak, but closed his mouth and stepped back to allow Kaeso to move past. The quiet Greek medicus was good at reading Kaeso's moods, for which Kaeso was grateful at the moment. But he didn’t want the medicus keeping a potential surprise to himself just to avoid Kaeso's ire.

  “What is it, Medicus?”

  “I wanted to request a line of credit to buy more raptor gizzards for the way line jump rituals.”

  “We're out?”

  Nestor nodded. “We used up the last one for our jump here.”

  Kaeso sighed. “How much?”

  Nestor pulled on his short, black beard and licked his lips. “Five hundred sesterces for a ten-canister case.”

  “Five hundred—!”

  “Centuriae, raptors are not native to this star system so they are hard to come by on the waystation. They must be imported from a Roman aviary, or a Lost World. The closest Lost World aviary is four way line jumps away.”

  Kaeso rubbed a hand over the coarse stubble on his head. “Can't we just this once skip the ritual?”

  Nestor paled. “We cannot jump without the gods approval or protection, Centuriae. We could get stuck between realities, thrown off course into unknown space or a star or a planet—”

  “Fine,” Kaeso said. “Talk to Lucia and she'll send the funds to your tabulari. But only buy enough for this jump. We'll need the rest of the money in the ship's purse for bribes when we get to Menota.” If Vallutus still hires us once he’s seen the ship.

  “Yes, Centuriae. Thank you.”

  Kaeso walked on, then turned. “Don’t go into Bay Two. Gravity's out there.”

  Nestor stopped. “Do you know when it will be fixed? I need to get a new delta generator battery.”

  “Why not recharge the one already in the machine?”

  “It's not taking a charge anymore. I just checked.”

  “The one in Bay Two is our last battery.”

  “Do you want me to buy a new one when I get the raptor gizzards?”

  Kaeso thought a second, then shook his head. “We'll just have to take our chances for this job. We can't afford it until we get paid. Maybe luck will be with us for a change.”

  Nestor smiled. “There is no such thing as luck, Centuriae. Only the will of the gods.”

  “Right.”

  Kaeso squeezed around a corner and arrived at the crew compartments. Blaesus stood outside his quarters staring inside. The former Senator wore the usual outfit he wore for potential clients—a ceremonial white toga over his white Liberti merchant jump suit. Kaeso thought he looked dressed for a funeral.

  “You almost got it, boy,” Blaesus said.

  “This one?” a voice responded from inside.

  “No, the one next to your left foot. Yes, that one. There you go.”

  A scroll flew out of the room, hit the wall behind Blaesus, and then dropped as it encountered the corridor’s gravity field. Blaesus picked it up, unrolled it, and sighed.

  “I knew that boy was good for something,” Blaesus muttered to Kaeso, “besides the arena.”

  Kaeso stopped next to Blaesus. Flamma Africanus floated in the zero grav inside Blaesus’s hatch, reaching for the maps and scrolls bumping around the room. The tall, lanky Egyptian cursed every time he knocked his head on the walls or ceiling.

  “At least there’s more room in the arena,” Flamma grumbled.

  “You never set foot in an arena, my boy. Your golems did.”

  “I saw through their eyes. I felt their pain— Cac!” Flamma rubbed his head where he’d slammed it against the bulkhead. “Need anything else? I’m more beat up grabbing your scraps than I ever got in the arena.”

  Kaeso grinned. “You boys have things under control here. I’ll check on that gravity fix.”

  “Please do, Centuriae,” Blaesus said. “I’d like to sleep in my quarters tonight.”

  “Oh, and Blaesus, don’t wear the toga around Vallutus. Romans make him nervous. Especially politicians.”

  “Centuriae, the toga is who I am. You might as well ask me to cut off an arm.”

  “I'll do it,” Flamma said, landing in the corridor. “Ax or saw?”

  Blaesus frowned. “Your bloodlust knows no bounds, gladiator. Centuriae, a toga shows I respect a client enough to wear the best clothing I have. Lucia is wearing her old Legionnaire uniform, am I right? Now that would make any barbarian nervous.”

  “She's wearing her Liberti merchant whites,” Kaeso said. “Quite different from Legion red.”

  “Still too militaristic for my taste,” Blaesus said.

  “Stow the toga, Blaesus.”

  The old Senator heaved a great sigh. “Very well, Centuriae. But only if you get the gravity back on in my quarters. I won't go in there again until I can walk in.”

  “Working on it,” Kaeso said. He brushed past Blaesus and headed to the back of the crew deck.

  “Because I will not store it in anything other than the sacred box it came in when I was voted into the Senate,” Blaesus called after Kaeso. “It would be blasphemy to do otherwise.”

  Kaeso waved a hand over his shoulder as he reached the end of the crew deck, and then climbed down the ladder well to the engineering deck. He was greeted with metallic clanking and Persian curses. While Kaeso's Persian was limited to simple greetings and requests for directions, he had no trouble understanding Dariya's shouts.

  In the engine room, Daryush worked at a tabulari, his large hands deftly moving windows and components around the interface. Behind him, Dariya swung a large wrench at a compartment door. The clang upon impact was deafening even in the noisy engine room.

  “What are you doing?” Kaeso yelled over the humming engines and Dariya’s swings.

  Dariya looked up, annoyance plain on her dirty face. He almost wanted to back up and leave the room before she came at him with the wrench.

  “I told you we have it under control, sir,” she said.

  “Looks like it. Why are you beating up my ship?”

  “This son of a whore compartment door is corroded from the leaking grav fluid behind it. I cannot open it to fix the leak. Thus, the beating.”

  She took another swing at the door and the clang was even louder. Daryush didn’t flinch, and kept moving windows on the tabulari interface.

  “Use the torch,” Kaeso said. “Grav fluid won’t catch fir
e.”

  “Your ignorance would amuse me if it would not kill us all. Sir.”

  “Then educate me.”

  “The fluid is not flammable, but the torch could damage the generator itself. I do not recall any spare grav generators laying around,” Dariya said. “Or spare anything.”

  Daryush grunted from the tabulari, then raised both arms in triumph. The white teeth in his big smile contrasted with his dirty face. His grunts and gestures told Kaeso he’d done something for which he was proud.

  Dariya went and checked his readout. “'Ush, you are amazing. We have gravity, sir.”

  “What did he do?” Kaeso asked.

  “He shut down the grav generator and redirected the inertia cancellers to simulate gravity. We should be fine as long as we don't make any sudden accelerations.”

  “Shouldn't be a problem while we're docked at the way station.”

  Daryush turned to Kaeso with a proud smile.

  Kaeso clapped him on the back. “Very good.” He turned to Dariya. “When can you get the grav generator leak fixed? We'll need the inertia cancellers once we undock.”

  “As soon as I can open this son of a whore compartment.”

  “Fine. Just make sure Daryush's fix doesn't short out any other systems.”

  Dariya looked at Kaeso as if he just said he could breath in space. The fraternal Persian twins had been aboard Caduceus little over a year, and Daryush's fixes had never made things worse. They had made an old, broken-down star freighter run well past its expiration date. Despite Dariya's gruff attitude and Daryush's lack of a tongue, Kaeso thought they were the best engineering team in the Lost Worlds.

  Especially for their price, which was virtually nil compared to other engineering teams he’d interviewed when he first bought Caduceus. Kaeso hated paying the twins a tick higher than indentured wages, but he had to pay his entire crew the same. It was a condition of working on a ship that specialized in smuggling services amidst tight competition from criminal syndicates in both Roman and Liberti space.

  Kaeso's com chimed. “Centuriae?” Lucia asked.

  Dariya's lips curled in disgust, and she turned back to the compartment she'd been beating. Kaeso ducked out of the engine room before she could start the earsplitting “repairs.”

  “What?”

  “Vallutus is at the entry hatch.”

  Early…

  “Tell him I'll be right there,” Kaeso said. “Have Blaesus report to the galley with his maps and proposal. Make sure he's not wearing that toga. Tell Flamma to heat up some spiced wine. And it wouldn't hurt for you to—”

  “I'll take care of it, Centuriae. Now go meet him before he walks away.”

  Kaeso stayed on the engineering deck and made his way through the cramped corridor to the main entry air lock at the ship’s nose. He passed the two cargo bays, Bay One on the left and Bay Two on the right, both depressingly empty. At the airlock between the bays, the external monitors showed Vallutus in the way station connector. He was a short man, bald, with a paunch hanging over his jump suit’s belt. His gaze furtively swept up and down the waystation corridor. Kaeso supposed his nervousness was natural considering the job he had for Caduceus.

  “Salve, Vallutus,” Kaeso said into the speaker. “I'll have this door open in a moment.”

  “Salve, Centuriae Aemilius. Thank you.”

  Kaeso pointed at a few buttons on the tabulari interface. Red warning lights flashed near the door, and a buzzer sounded as air pressure equalized in the connector. Kaeso then moved a slider on the tabulari, and the Caduceus's entry hatch slid open. The way station hatch at the other end of the connector also opened. Vallutus hurried in, and Kaeso went to meet him.

  “Welcome aboard Caduceus,” Kaeso said, extending his arm.

  Vallutus took his arm in a firm grasp. “I cannot stay long, Centuriae, but I thought I should tell you in person. Honor demands it.”

  Kaeso did not like the sound of that.

  “We can talk in the galley.”

  “No, I cannot stay long. I'm breaking the contract. You will get your cancellation fee, as we agreed.”

  Kaeso stared at Vallutus. “I don't understand.”

  “Centuriae,” Vallutus said in a hushed tone, “I was foolish to hire you to go to Menota to begin with, no matter how many marques are still there. It is a dead planet with a violent, tragic history. If radiation from the Roman diraenium bombs doesn’t kill you, the Cariosus plague will. Now Libertus has its no-landing treaty with Roma.”

  “What? When did this happen?”

  “Newscriers announced it over the system bands two hours ago.”

  Kaeso shook his head. “That doesn't change anything. Landings have always been illegal. Roma patrols the entire system.”

  “I have no problem crossing Roma. But Liberti numina…”

  “My friend, Liberti numina do not exist.”

  Vallutus's eyes widened. “You should not say such things! Of course they exist. They are what has kept Libertus free since its founding. How else do you explain the Roman fear of conquering Libertus, the one world that has made so much trouble for them for centuries? It's the Liberti numina. Everyone knows that. You would do well to respect them yourself—you’re Liberti.”

  “Yes, but—”

  Kaeso didn’t know what to say. How could he explain to Vallutus the “Liberti numina” were not what he thought? That they were not god-like spirits protecting Libertus from the Romans or the Zhonguo Sphere or the other tyrannical empires and governments that coveted its prosperity? How could he explain it to Vallutus in a way that would not kill Kaeso on the spot?

  “Vallutus,” Kaeso said slowly, “the Liberti numina are a myth. They do not exist. They are just a story concocted to scare off anyone who would threaten Libertus.”

  Vallutus scoffed. “Do you think the Romans are afraid of a story? My friend Aemilius, I have personally seen how those who cross the Liberti end up. I have seen ships explode carrying men or cargo wanted by the Liberti authorities. Some of my less savory associates were assassinated in places protected by trusted men and solid security systems. The numina are real, my friend.”

  “Vallutus, the numina are not real. They're—”

  Light and pain exploded in Kaeso's eyes and behind his right ear. He shut his eyes and leaned against the connector wall until the pain subsided. When he opened his eyes again, Vallutus stared at Kaeso fearfully.

  “Centuriae, are you well?”

  “Fine,” Kaeso grunted. “We need this contract, Vallutus. I promise you, with your resources we can bribe the Roman patrols to let us land on Menota. We can get into the vaults. My crew has the skills. We can handle the radiation and any Cariosus. The money is just sitting there, Vallutus, waiting for someone who’s not afraid of shadows to take it.”

  “No, you proved it just now, Centuriae. You insulted the numina with your denial, and from a son of Libertus. They tried to strike you down.”

  “No they didn’t. It was just a headache.”

  “I'm sorry, Centuriae,” Vallutus said. “I will deposit the cancellation fee into your ship's account within the hour. Good day to you.”

  Vallutus turned and hurried out of the connector. Kaeso watched him leave with anger, sadness, and a little bit of fear.

  “Centuriae,” chimed Lucia's voice from Kaeso's collar. “Why did I just see Vallutus leave?”

  Kaeso swallowed. “Have the crew meet in the galley.”

  “Blaesus and Flamma are already there. I'll call Nestor.”

  “And the twins.”

  Lucia paused. “I doubt Dariya will listen to me if she's got a leak to fix.”

  “Then tell her it's an order from me,” Kaeso said. “You're my damned Trierarch, Lucia, the second-in-command. You shouldn't need the threat of me to back you up. This feud between you and Dariya is wearing on me.”

  Lucia paused again. “Centuriae, what just happened?”

  “We lost our contract with Vallutus. We have some decis
ions to make.”

  3

  “So that's it,” Kaeso told his crew in the galley. “Vallutus is out. Our funds for the way station docking will run out in three days. We need a contract now.”

  The crew’s grim faces reflected Kaeso's mood. Blaesus sat at the table drinking the warm spiced wine Flamma had set out for Vallutus. Flamma and Nestor sat on either side of Blaesus, staring at their cups. Dariya and Daryush leaned against the far wall of the cramped galley with their hands in the pockets of their greasy jumpsuits. Lucia stood beside Kaeso, her arms folded over her Liberti merchant uniform, now unbuttoned at the collar.

  Blaesus responded first. “I for one never believed in the Liberti numina. Whole lot of rubbish meant to scare Roman kiddies before bedtime. You were in the Legions, Lucia. I suppose you told a good numen ghost story around the campfire, eh?”

  Kaeso glanced at Lucia, who shifted on her feet uncomfortably.

  “Sure, stories,” she said. The set of her jaw told Kaeso she knew more than just stories.

  “I am not so sure they are stories,” Nestor said, his quiet Greek accent ominous. “My previous employer once told me he had a partner who killed a Liberti lictor when they raided his slavery stable. He bragged about it, and scoffed at the Liberti numen tales. One night, in a tavern filled with over sixty loyal men, he went to the latrine...and never came out.”

  Flamma leaned close. “He died on the cac pot?”

  “No, he just never came out. He disappeared. Many saw him go in, my employer included, but no one ever saw him leave. When my employer went to check on him, all he found was a single drop of blood on the floor.”

  Blaesus downed his spiced wine. “Perhaps he crawled down the cac pipes.”

  “You mock,” Nestor said, “but these things happen to people who cross Libertus. The Liberti have powerful patron gods.”

  “Latin myths do not scare me,” Dariya said. She pulled a pendant with a winged disc from beneath her collar. “Ahura Mazda, Lord of Wisdom, protects me and all who acknowledge him.”

  “Ah,” Blaesus said, pouring more wine into his cup, “your gods can beat up our gods, eh?”

  “All right,” Kaeso said, “before we get into a religious fight, let’s talk about our options. We need money to keep flying. Otherwise, I can't afford to run this ship, much less pay you.”