Muses of Roma (Codex Antonius Book 1)

by Rob Steiner

  “Because the gods gave human beings free will and an intellect. Why would they order us not to use either gift? To obey them without thought? Why they might as well have made us all ants. All I say is let human beings use their free will and intellect to handle the minutia of the Republic.”

  Lepidus nodded, considering. “So you think the Consul and Collegia are lying to the people regarding the gods’ demands for complete obedience?”

  “Not lying,” Scaurus said carefully. “Just misinterpreting.”

  “Interesting ideas, Scaurus. I've heard them before like any student of discredited theories, and I’d love to debate governing philosophy with you all night. I mean that, but I’m afraid I have other business with you. Do you know a Praetorian named Marcia Licinius Ocella?”

  “Of course. How can you be a Praetorian and not know who she is. It was I who sponsored her. Why?”

  Lepidus was impressed with Scaurus's poise and the way he put pride into his response, as if he didn’t know the woman had kidnapped the Consular Heir of Roma.

  “Well, it appears she spread some rather dangerous ideas around the Consular household.”

  “I only sponsor the most honorable and loyal Romans to the Praetorian Guard,” Scaurus said, acting insulted. “Ocella is a patriot from a proud family. If you are in the know as much as you seem, then her recent actions should prove that. So what if she reveres tradition, including Roma’s democratic past?”

  Lepidus smiled. The man is a good actor indeed.

  “Her recent actions were a boon to the Republic’s security. Liberti agents will no longer infiltrate Roma as they used to. But I was not referring to democracy.”

  Scaurus looked at him. “Then what, Quintus Atius? Stop wasting my time and get to your point.”

  Lepidus leaned forward. “Your woman convinced the Consular Heir to defect to Libertus.”

  Scaurus stared at Lepidus. And then he laughed. Lepidus joined in the laughter. They were like old friends sharing stories of their younger, wilder days.

  Scaurus wiped a tear from the corner of his eye. “Ah, Quintus Atius, for a moment I thought you were serious.”

  “My dear Scaurus, I am serious.”

  Lepidus drew his pulse pistol from his cloak, turned, and shot Scaurus's slave in the heart. The slave stumbled backward, dead before he fell to the ground, a pulse pistol tumbling from his right hand. Lepidus then aimed the pistol at Scaurus, whose own pistol was halfway out his sleeve. Scaurus froze.

  “You disappoint me,” Lepidus said, snatching the pistol out of Scaurus's hand. “How can an old professional like you lose his skills so quickly? You've only been out of the service, what, five years?”

  Scaurus stared at him, his jaw clenched. Lepidus produced wire bindings from his cloak and tossed them in Scaurus's lap. He examined the couch.

  “This seems sturdy enough,” Lepidus said.

  Scaurus didn't move. “What do you want?”

  “Bind yourself to the couch and I will tell you.”

  “I'm not shackling myself to—”

  Lepidus fired into Scaurus's left foot, obliterating the big toe and the two next to it. Scaurus screamed.

  “Shh, Scaurus, calm down. Surgeons do wonderful things with prosthetics these days. More gifts from the gods you want our Consul to ignore. Now bind yourself to the couch or I’ll shoot your other foot.”

  With shaking hands Scaurus weaved the bindings around his hands and then through the couch's metal armrest. Lepidus tapped the com on his collar and said, “Appius, you may come in now.”

  “I have rights,” Scaurus growled as he finished wrapping the wire around the armrest. “I am a Citizen of Roma. I’m a patrician from a noble family. The Consul has named me Friend. You will suffer for this.”

  Lepidus leaned over and engaged the lock on the wire, then sat down on the couch facing Scaurus. He holstered his pistol and stared at Scaurus. The old man stared back defiantly several moments, then looked away.

  “I thought so,” Lepidus said. “Where is Marcia Licinius Ocella?”

  “I have no idea,” Scaurus said through a clenched jaw. His eyes were red from the pain in his foot. “I'm not her paterfamilias. Go talk to him. I need a medicus now.”

  The front door opened behind Lepidus, and he turned to see his apprentice, Gnaeus Hortensius Appius, enter the house. The young man was dressed in a black cloak and had the blond hair and angular face of his Nordic ancestry.

  “Sit down, Appius,” Lepidus said, “and watch a master liar spin his tales. He was Praefectus of the Praetorian Guard for twenty years, and the Consuls never suspected he was a traitor.”

  Appius sat down without a word, staring at Scaurus like he was a rat under the dissection knife.

  Scaurus trembled. With pain, fury, or fear, Lepidus couldn't tell.

  “You have no right to do this to me,” Scaurus said. “If you have charges, bring them.”

  Lepidus took a small knife from his cloak and placed it on the table next to Scaurus. “There will be no charges, no tribunals, no pleas for mercy to the Consul. No one will save you.”

  Lepidus leaned forward, inches from Scaurus. “You will tell me what I want to know, and then I will kill you. It is up to you whether your death is quiet, or your agonized screams echo throughout the Aventine.”

  Scaurus stared at Lepidus, anger and pain contorting his face...and then his features sagged. He looked like a man resigned to his fate. Lepidus was a little disappointed.

  “You would break me,” Scaurus said.

  “I'm glad you see reason. I don't have time to play with you. Where is Marcia Licinius Ocella? Where did she take the Consular Heir? The gods will receive you quickly if you confess your crimes now.”

  “The gods. Yes, they will take me. But what of you, Quintus Atius Lepidus? Do you serve them or the Consul?”

  “There is no difference. They are both divine.”

  Scaurus shook his head sadly. “If you only knew your true masters.”

  Then he bit down hard. White foam gushed from his mouth and he began convulsing. Appius leaped off the couch, grabbed Scaurus's head, and stuck his fingers town the man's throat to get him to gag up the poison. Scaurus choked, heaved once, and then was still, his eyes staring vacantly at Lepidus. Appius continued digging his fingers around in Scaurus's mouth.

  “Enough,” Lepidus said. He grabbed the knife from the table and sheathed it in his cloak. “He's gone.”

  Appius shoved Scaurus down onto the couch. “Gods damn him,” Appius growled. “He knew the boy’s location.” Then he turned to Lepidus. “How did you know it was him, sir? There was no evidence to suspect him.”

  Lepidus regarded Scaurus’s body. “I followed a guess inspired by the gods, no matter how improbable that guess may have seemed. Licinius earned the Consul’s trust by rooting out the Liberti agents in Roma. But she is also the only Praetorian not to report after the boy’s disappearance. Scaurus was the one who recommended Licinius to the Guard. Therefore I concluded he might know her best.”

  Appius shook his head. “I never would have had the courage to interrogate a man as powerful man as Scaurus based on a guess.”

  Lepidus smiled. “Sometimes you need to listen to the gods when they whisper guidance to you.”

  “He was a legend, a hero of the State. To think he was a traitor.”

  “Only the Consul and the Collegia are infallible,” Lepidus said. He glanced around the house. “Call in your team. All evidence of tonight’s events must be removed. The public will be saddened to hear Numerius Aurelius Scaurus died of a heart attack. He will be remembered as a legend, a hero of the State.”

  Appius scowled, then nodded. As he stood to leave, Lepidus said, “Ensure your men search this house from the weather vane to the foundations.”

  Ocella and Cordus huddled on the couch in pitch-blackness. When Ocella heard Scaurus's screams, she immediately powered down everything in the underground sanctuary—the tabulari, the visum, the lights, the ve
ntilation unit. Anything that might give off a power signature the agents upstairs might detect once they began their search. Scaurus had said the sanctuary was shielded from power leakage, but it was best not to test its effectiveness with their lives at stake.

  “Will they find us?” Cordus whispered, huddled next to her. She could not see him, couldn't see her own nose, but she heard the tremor in his voice.

  “I don't know,” she whispered back.

  “What will we do if they come down?”

  She could barely hear him speak over her heart pounding in her ears. “We'll fight them.”

  “I cannot go back,” Cordus said. “They will tear my mind apart looking for—” Ocella felt him shudder. “Will you make sure they do not take me?”

  Ocella clenched the pulse pistol in her right hand. “They will not take either of us.”

  The boy tucked his head into her shoulder and was silent. They both sat in the dark, waiting for the sound of stone grinding on stone.

  16

  Kaeso had barely awakened from his delta sleep after Caduceus left the way line, when a stern voice came over the ship’s com.

  “Caduceus, this is Libertus Way Station Control. Proceed to cargo docking port 1201. Any deviation from your course and you will be fired upon. Acknowledge.”

  “Acknowledged, Control,” Kaeso said. “Setting course for cargo docking port 1201.”

  The stars shifted in the command window as Lucia reset Caduceus' heading. She growled from the pilot seat, “I'm tired of hearing we’re going to be fired upon.”

  Kaeso shared her feelings, but said nothing. The Centuriae was always in control, always knew what to do. Especially when he was not in control and did not know what to do.

  One more mission and I may be back in Umbra working alone. And not responsible for seven other lives.

  It had been a long time since Kaeso last visited Libertus. He gazed at the familiar sunlit northern continent with longing and dread. He grew up in the continent’s center, in a province called Fabricium near the provincial capital Alexandria Novus. As a young man he'd made his home there with Petra and Claudia. At least until Petra's death, and the day he abandoned his daughter.

  “Sir?” Lucia said.

  Kaeso blinked at her.

  “I asked for your orders after we dock. They're going to board us, right?” Her tone was all business. She’s still mad.

  “We do what they say.”

  Lucia nodded slowly. “Yes, sir.”

  Kaeso went back to watching Libertus grow larger in the command window.

  It had been ten years, Kaeso decided. Yes, ten years since he last walked on Libertus. His last day on the planet had been the day he joined Umbra. The day he died to his family, friends, and his old life. After that day, Umbra had secreted him away to the moon of a gas giant in the Liberti system. He still didn't know—or remember—the moon’s name till this day. His implant made the details hazy, but he remembered the moon was a cold, barren rock with no atmosphere. Most of his training was underground in air-filled caverns. During surface drills, he remembered staring through his EVA helmet past the red gas giant above toward the bright blue light of Libertus. And he would wonder what his daughter was doing.

  Kaeso squeezed his eyes shut, then quickly opened them. The pain had not abated since Galeo mentioned Spur— Ocella. He welcomed the chance to return to Umbra, to clear his name. But now he saw his daughter every time he closed his eyes. It was always that last image of her, with a red face and tear-streaked cheeks, cursing him. And he knew he deserved it.

  “Approaching way station, sir,” Lucia said.

  Kaeso tore his gaze from the planet and watched the approaching Libertus Way Station. It started as a speck of blinking light, turned into several specks, and then tiny starships flitting to and from the wheel-shaped way station. Unlike the hollowed-out asteroids of Roman way stations, the Libertus Way Station was entirely artificial, like a silver, rotating wagon wheel. It was built from the abundant ores mined from the lifeless moons and asteroids in the Libertus system. It had been a monumental effort often criticized in the Liberti Senate for its cost and scope, a project taking over twenty years to complete. Its saving grace, though, was the rotation it used to simulate gravity rather than expensive gravity generators that required fuel Libertus had to import from other star systems. The way station made Libertus the crown jewel of the Lost Worlds, and the center of commerce and culture for worlds that refused Roman rule.

  While all eighteen Lost Worlds were different in culture, religion, and language, they were all united in their desire to be left alone, to live their lives without interference from Roma or any other human empire. It was a Roman Consul that first called the Lost Worlds “lost”—since they refused the benefits of Roman rule—but they kept the name over the centuries as a proud display of independence. Libertus became their de facto capital. While there were no official political ties, the Lost Worlds were a trading bloc that gave them the economic openness of a nation without the entanglements of a unified government.

  A ripe fruit such as Libertus would have fallen long ago to Roman or Zhonguo dominance but for one thing: Umbra Corps, an organization few Liberti knew existed. Oh, there were rumors and conspiracy theories among the Liberti—most invented by Umbra—of a secret army keeping Libertus free. How could there not be such an army? Though Roma grew weaker each year, its Naves Astrum far outnumbered all the warships in the Lost Worlds combined. In a one-on-one fight, Libertus and the Lost Worlds would never stand a chance. It was a common assumption that something protected Libertus from Roma and the Zhonguo Sphere.

  That something was what kept conspiracy theories clogging up the tabulari bands. Kaeso smiled inwardly at the theories, anything from the gods’ intervention to economic blackmail. Some theories even suggested the Zhonguo secretly protected Libertus, since Libertus was a lucrative market for their goods.

  Kaeso wondered how the Liberti would react if they knew the only thing standing between them and Roman slavery was a thousand patriots allied with a sentient alien virus Umbra called the Muses.

  Not even Kaeso had believed it when he was first recruited. A thousand Umbra Ancilia against humanity's greatest empires? All with the help of an ancient alien virus that infected the first Liberti settlers when they colonized the planet? Kaeso had never been a religious man, but he had found it easier to believe in the entire Roman Pantheon than an intelligent alien virus. A virus had helped Libertus not only gain the prosperity and technological superiority she now enjoyed, but ensured her safety through means that made “clandestine” a description too laughably mild.

  The proximity alarm startled Kaeso. He glanced out the window, saw the way station’s docking port a quarter-mile away.

  Lucia reached out to a control pad between them and tapped a button. The wailing stopped. “Sorry, sir. Forgot the alarm.”

  He noticed her set jaw and furrowed brow.

  “You need to smile more.”

  Her eyes widened, and Kaeso saw the reddening skin around her neck. “Yes, sir,” she said.

  Kaeso hadn't meant to make her feel uncomfortable, so he added, “The whole crew needs to smile more.”

  She nodded and then hurriedly said, “Ion drives disengaged. Docking thrusters online.”

  Lucia completed the docking procedure flawlessly, as usual. The moment the ship switched over to the way station’s power and air, a stern voice came over the com.

  “Centuriae Aemilius, you and your crew will proceed to the cargo hold with your infected crewman. You will remove all clothing and await decontamination teams. Acknowledge.”

  Kaeso gritted his teeth. “Cargo One is not a private or warm place for decontamination.”

  “This is not a negotiation, Centuriae. If you and your crew are not there when the decontamination teams board, they will forcibly move you there. Acknowledge.”

  “Who do they think—?” Lucia growled.

  “Acknowledged,” Kaeso said. “Ca
duceus out.” He thumbed his collar com. “All crew report to Cargo One and remove your clothes for decontamination. Let's go, Lucia.”

  Still grumbling, Lucia unlatched her couch belts and followed Kaeso off the command deck.

  When he and Lucia reached Cargo One, Daryush was the only one there. He stood naked, his hands on the sleeper crib containing Dariya. Kaeso stood next to Daryush, and looked at Dariya through the frosted window. Her eyes were closed, her mouth slightly open, and her short black hair floated around her head. A single bubble escaped her nostril and floated to the sleeper fluid surface.

  Daryush turned to him with pleading, teary eyes.

  “We're going to help her,” Kaeso told him. “I swear it.”

  Daryush turned back to the crib, sighed, and continued to stare at his sister.

  Behind Kaeso, Blaesus and Flamma entered the bay.

  “Not that I'm opposed to displaying my prominent manhood,” Blaesus declared, “but isn’t there a better place for this? It's freezing in here.”

  “It’s not up to me,” Kaeso said, walking to the connector hatch.

  Nestor followed behind Blaesus and Flamma. “It makes sense,” the Greek medicus said. “The cargo bays have the most room for their decon equipment.”

  Blaesus grunted. “I’m not removing one article of clothing until they get here. Otherwise they'll find a frozen old man with a huge—”

  “Get undressed,” Kaeso ordered. “They're here.”

  Kaeso watched on the external cam as seven decon crewmen filed into the docking tube. All were dressed in white decon suits with helmets and faceplates covering their heads. Five carried metal cases, and two held each end of a metal trunk. Kaeso unlocked Caduceus's connector hatch, which opened with a hiss. The two men in front dropped their cases and aimed pistols at Kaeso.

  “Into the cargo bay, Centuriae,” a man said from behind the two gunmen.

  Kaeso turned and walked back to Cargo One. His crew stared at the decon unit as they stormed onto the ship.

  “Your whole crew here?” the leader asked. He and the others—besides the men with guns—set down their cases and opened them. Each contained expanding trays of electronic instruments, syringes, tubes, bandages, and other medical supplies. The two carrying the large trunk set it down, opened it, and began removing what looked like a portable shower.