Muses of Roma (Codex Antonius Book 1)

by Rob Steiner

  After another fifteen minutes of sophomoric jokes and unrealistic puppet sex, the show thankfully ended and the audience stood to leave. Cordus turned to her with a grin.

  “You have to admit that was funny,” he said. “They never had shows like that in the Palace.”

  “Let’s go,” Ocella said, then grabbed the boy's arm and pulled him down the street.

  They had gone several dozen steps before the boy yanked his arm from her grip. “I do not know why you are so angry.” He straightened his coat, but continued walking beside her. “I was only gone for an hour. Praetorians do not congregate on the Aventine.”

  Ocella pushed Cordus into a shadowy alley. She wanted to wait until they got back to Scaurus’s house before she screamed at him, but she couldn't hold her anger that long. She grabbed the boy’s shoulders and used all her will to avoid slapping him.

  “You heard what happened to Scaurus less than three blocks away! The Praetorians are watching the house, you fool, so what makes you so sure they aren't watching the surrounding streets? They have face-recognition cameras scouring the city for you! Every godsdamned camera on every godsdamned utility pole, taxi, or whorehouse peepshow can do that!”

  Cordus's eyes grew darker as she railed on him. Let him get mad. The boy had to know how much danger he’d put himself in by leaving the safe house.

  “Do not call me a fool,” Cordus said sullenly once Ocella had paused her rant to catch her breath. “I would have slit my own wrists if I had to endure another moment in that basement.”

  Ocella’s mouth opened for another tirade, but she stopped. She had felt the same way. It was why she had worked so hard to find Scaurus’s secret exit. Not only had she wanted to escape and find Scaurus’s contact, but she had also needed to get out of that stuffy, constricting basement where she’d spent the last two weeks. Even if it meant risking capture.

  She sighed. “You scared me, Cordus.”

  “Because you did not want to get caught.”

  “No,” she said, “because I was worried about you.”

  He looked up at her. “Me?” It seemed like the most foreign concept he'd ever heard. It made her more angry at the Consular Family for how they had treated this boy his whole life.

  “Yes,” she said.

  She surprised herself as she said it, because she meant it. She had been more worried about the boy's safety than her own fate. It stunned her, and she knew she had to stamp out that feeling. The boy was a mission, and her mission was to get him off Terra. She could not afford an emotional attachment to this child. It would compromise some hard choices she might have to make before this was over.

  Cordus studied his feet and tucked his hands in his toga. Then he lifted his chin. “I am sorry I worried you. That was not my intent. I...I should not have left the basement. You are right, I put us in danger.”

  Ocella realized she still held his shoulders, so she released him. “Just don't do it again. We’ll only be there two more days.”

  Cordus nodded, then brightened. “You found the contact?”

  “I think so. He wants us to meet him at in the Mars Trading Fields in two days. I think we can both survive the basement that long. And that means no more trips upstairs.”

  “Upstairs?”

  “In Scaurus's house,” she said. “No more exploring, understand?”

  Cordus's brow creased. “I did not go upstairs.”

  “But the pantry door was open.”

  “I only went through the tunnel and the hatch in the garden.”

  “Then why was the pantry door...?”

  Ocella’s palms moistened. She pulled Cordus further into the alley’s shadows.

  “What is it?” he asked.

  “I think someone was in the basement.”

  She scanned the crowds, searching for anyone who would stand out as a Praetorian or a hired lictor. Was that a Praetorian? She decided against the young man across the street. He guided his aged mother through the crowds, and Praetorians would not use old women for props. They might get in the way.

  “What do we do?” Cordus asked.

  “We can't go back to the house.”

  Two men burst into the alley from around the corner, one bumping into her. She pushed the man away, drew her pistol, and aimed at both. They stopped, their eyes wide. Then the man who bumped her vomited on his shirt and shoes. The other man burst into drunken laughter.

  “Easy, lass,” said the older man in a drunken slur, “we ain't trying to rob you. My nephew here’s just making more room.”

  He laughed again. The sick nephew, straightened, his legs wobbly. “That ought to do it. Let's go back before they run out of wine.”

  They both staggered from the alley and around the corner.

  Ocella holstered her pistol, then grabbed Cordus's hand and hurried down the alley.

  “What are we going to do?” Cordus asked again.

  She didn't answer him. Because she had no idea.

  Lepidus watched the woman and the boy run.

  “Should we follow them, sir?” Appius asked.

  “No. The tracker will do that now.”

  Lepidus glanced at his apprentice, who pulled off his vomit-stained tunic and tossed it in the trash. He fit right in with the rest of the Aventine’s half-dressed plebeian mob. Some of the passing women—and a few men—gave Appius appraising stares.

  “Well done, Appius. I didn’t believe you could vomit on command. Interesting talent.”

  “Been able to do it since I was a child, sir. Got me out of many meals I didn’t want to eat.”

  Lepidus smiled. “Just as long as the tracker is secure.”

  “I placed it behind her neck. She won't find it unless she's looking for it.”

  Lepidus nodded. The tracker was a recent gift from the gods to the Collegia Pontificis. A clear bit of adhesive no bigger than a fingerprint, enabling Lepidus to track the woman so long as she stayed on Terra.

  “Congratulations to you, too, sir,” Appius said. “I didn’t think they’d run after seeing the pantry door ajar.”

  “Subtlety is far more powerful with people such as Marcia Licinius Ocella,” Lepidus said, watching the woman and boy leave the alley at the far end. “She is not only a trained Praetorian, but a skilled foreign agent. She’d only leave the safe house if she knew it was too dangerous to stay. Let her believe we’re sloppy. It will be to our advantage in the long run.”

  “Now we follow her.”

  “Yes. She will lead us to her contacts, and then we will cleanse Roma of all foreign terrorists and assassins.” He frowned at Appius. “Find a shirt, will you? People are staring.”

  19

  The Umbra Navigator ducked through Caduceus’s connector hatch and smiled at Kaeso. He was a young man, maybe mid-twenties, with the blond hair and freckles of Germanic ancestry. Though his face did not shimmer, Kaeso knew he wore an Umbra cloak. All Ancile did while working.

  “Kaeso Aemilius,” the Navigator said, holding out his hand. “I am so honored to meet you. You're a legend. Your missions are still studied in the Academy.”

  Kaeso glanced around, making sure his crew wasn’t nearby. “Galeo, are you trying to kill me? Talk like that will turn my brain into garum.”

  Galeo’s eyes focused behind Kaeso. “This must be your engineer?”

  Kaeso turned, saw Daryush peeking from the engine room hatch. As soon as Kaeso saw him, Daryush withdrew.

  “Looking forward to meeting you,” Galeo called out.

  Kaeso scowled, then said in a quiet voice, “What’s with the new disguise?”

  “I couldn’t come as Dr. Pullo, could I? Your crew would suspect something odd about a medicus who also happens to be an engineer who can install these ‘magical’ upgrades to your engines.”

  Kaeso looked past Galeo and toward the empty corridor behind him. “Where’s your equipment?”

  “I'm on a scouting mission. I want to see what modifications you need to get the upgrades to talk nicely wit
h your ship.”

  Kaeso nodded, then motioned Galeo to follow him. “Some advice. You look like you’re two months out of the Academy.”

  “That green, eh?” Galeo’s eyes lost their focus, and then his face began to age. Slight creases appeared around his eyes and mouth, and his skin grew a bit looser around his cheeks. His hair went from bright blond to a duller tone with a stray white hair here and there. Galeo now looked to be in his lower forties.

  “Good?” he asked.

  “Good,” Kaeso admitted. “I couldn’t do that with my cloak when I was in. Not without shutting it down first.”

  “Many things have changed since then, old friend.”

  “Right,” Kaeso said, then turned to Galeo, blocking his entrance to the engine room. “Like you becoming an infectee?”

  Galeo stopped and narrowed his eyes. “Nothing gets past you does it?” he said in a low voice.

  “Even my semi-active implant can feel a Vessel in the room. I felt it when you were ‘Dr. Pullo,’ but there were other men in the cargo bay, so I wasn’t sure if it was one of them. Now you’re the only stranger on my ship.”

  “Interesting,” Galeo said. “Well to start, you know we don't like being called 'infectees.' Implies we have a disease, and that is not true. I know you said it to watch my reaction. Please don't test me again.”

  Kaeso nodded. “My apologies. Calling you 'Vessels' always seemed too religious.”

  “You're not a religious man? You were once very pious. Before Umbra, you attended all the rituals with your family.”

  “Get to your point.”

  “Easy, Kaeso. I'm just saying one man's faith is another man's nonsense. The Muses bless Vessels with their wisdom. And make no mistake; I consider it a blessing. You would too if you became a Vessel when you had the chance.”

  Kaeso frowned, remembering the offer just before he was blacklisted. To this day he was still unsure why he turned them down. It was what most Ancilia worked toward throughout their career.

  Except Kaeso had never been comfortable with it. He knew the ancient Muses gave Vessels the ‘secrets of history,’ but he never liked the idea that he’d…change if he accepted the offer. And not just his personality, but rumor had it the change was also physical. Vessels never left their private residence without their Umbra cloaks, so only other Vessels knew for sure what the physical change was. It never sat well with Kaeso, even when he was at his most loyal to Umbra.

  “What do you want to do to my engines?” Kaeso asked.

  Galeo smiled. “Not much. Just make them outrace the gods.”

  Before Kaeso could comment, Lucia dropped down from the upper level. “Centuriae,” she said, then stared at Galeo.

  He gave her a warm smile. “You must be Lucia Marius Calida, the trierarch. It is an honor to meet you, my lady.” He bowed to her like a Roman nobleman to a patrician matron. Kaeso stifled a smile as Lucia’s lips curled in abject contempt.

  When Galeo straightened, he also saw the look and frowned. He turned to Kaeso. “Is your entire crew as cynical as you?”

  “Who are you?” Lucia asked.

  “Call me Navigator,” he said. “I'm here to upgrade your engines.” Kaeso knew ‘Galeo’ wasn’t even Galeo’s real name, but it was his Umbra name, and not to be revealed outside Umbra.

  “What kind of upgrades?” Lucia asked.

  Galeo seemed confused. “Did your centuriae not mention it?”

  She kept her focus on Galeo. “My centuriae doesn't confide much in his crew anymore.”

  “Well,” Galeo said. “I can't go into the details, because they’re classified, but I can tell you there are few ships in existence that can do what Caduceus will do when I'm done with her.”

  “Wonderful,” she said. “Too bad the crew won't experience this.”

  “What do you want, Lucia?” Kaeso asked.

  “I wanted to see what our friend is going to do to our engines. Someone needs to know how to work them when you bring the ship back from Terra.” She looked at Kaeso. “You were coming back, right?”

  “If I may,” Galeo interrupted, “there will be no difference in how you run the ship from the command deck. So it’s not necessary for you to waste your valuable time watching me make modifications you won’t even notice.”

  “Lucia,” Kaeso said, “I’ll watch him. You still trust me, right?”

  She stared at him several moments, then turned and climbed the ladder back up to the command deck. Galeo was about to say something, but Kaeso raised his hand. Kaeso called into the engine room, “Daryush?”

  The large Persian peeked around the corner.

  “Give us the room, please,” Kaeso said. Daryush nodded, then squeezed between Kaeso and Galeo, and climbed the ladder. Kaeso turned and motioned Galeo into the engine room.

  Galeo studied the tabulari console and shook his head. “I never thought I'd see a Falcon 2.1.1 again. You have given me quite the challenge, Centuriae.”

  “It’s old, I know.”

  Galeo laughed. “Falcon 4's are old. This has been around since Marcus Antonius Primus took Roma.”

  “Can you modify it?”

  “We’ll see,” Galeo said, opening the ship’s engine specs.

  “What did you mean saying Caduceus will ‘outrace the gods’?”

  Galeo scrolled through the virtual pages on the tabulari with inhuman speed. “For one thing, the ship won't need to follow a way line for interstellar travel.”

  Kaeso blinked. “How will it travel if not by way line?”

  “Let me back up. It will still use way lines, but not the kind you and every other human being use. Without wading too deep into way line physics, the way lines you know are rare and powerful. That’s why planets with way lines are so coveted and fought over for centuries. Terra happens to be lucky enough to have a way line in its solar system, as does Libertus.”

  “I am a starship Centuriae.”

  Galeo smiled as he reviewed the ship's engine logs. “To put it simply, every speck of mass in the universe has a quantum level way line connecting it to every other speck of mass in the universe. Umbra has learned how to build an interstellar engine that can ride those quantum way lines. In other words, Caduceus will not have to ride known way lines to get from one system to another. It will ride the quantum way lines and go anywhere in the universe it wants to go.”

  “Delta sleep?”

  “You still need delta sleep during a quantum way line jump,” Galeo said. “We still haven’t figured out way line madness.”

  Kaeso had assumed Caduceus’s Roman infiltration would involve more fake identities and bribes. None of which would fool a competent Roman way station customs agent in the midst of a crisis. It was the main reason Kaeso didn’t want his crew coming along.

  But the quantum way line drives changed everything. Umbra had discovered the magical interstellar drive that humanity had sought since going to the stars. If this drive became public, it would make obsolete almost 800 years of colonial settlement and military strategies. It would open up for colonization whole new planets and systems without major way lines. Libertus—and Terra—were ‘protected’ by a buffer of way line jumps, with each jump guarded by heavily armed way stations that could send warning drones to the next waystation. These new engines meant any hostile fleet could appear above a planet at any moment without traveling the known way lines.

  Kaeso now understood why Galeo didn’t want anyone watching over his shoulder while he installed the new systems.

  “When will you tell them?”

  Kaeso blinked out of his reverie. “What?”

  “Your crew,” Galeo said. “When will you tell them you want to rejoin your old crew.”

  “I’d rather not have this conversation with you.”

  “Let me give you some advice, from one 'old' Ancile to another. It is better to be up front about these things. Your little stunt with my medicus yesterday showed you care about your crew. Don’t dishonor them by lying to them.�
��

  Kaeso wanted to laugh. “Don’t lie to them, you say. How can I not lie to them? How can I not keep things from them, when if I tell them who I was or what you are, their lives would be forfeit? I’ve done nothing but lie to them since I first met them.”

  Galeo looked at him, understanding on his Umbra-cloaked face. “Our vocation demands we keep terrible secrets. Do terrible things. Because if we don't, if we drop our guard for a second, the Romans would do to us what they did to Kaldeth and other nations throughout history. Libertus would become just another jewel for them to store in their Tarpian Vaults. A breeding ground for slaves and soldiers and drafted colonists. I know you're still a patriot, Kaeso Aemilius. I know you would give your life to keep that from happening to your countrymen. To your daughter.”

  A wave of grief hit Kaeso again. He swallowed hard and kept himself steady. The waves were weaker as his semi-active implant adjusted to emotions he had not felt since before he joined Umbra. He hoped the damned implant would keep the emotions in check while he was in Roma. The last thing he needed were the distracting memories of how he abandoned his own daughter.

  Once the grief subsided, a burning anger filled Kaeso at Galeo’s cheap ploy. “Stop,” he snarled. “You know what it does to me when you mention my—my daughter.”

  “I’m sorry, old friend, but I want you to remember what you’re fighting for.”

  I remember, Kaeso thought. That’s the problem.

  Kaeso glanced at the tabulari. “Are you done?”

  “Yes, I believe I have what I came for. The modifications should work even on this old girl.” With a grin, he said, “Let’s make her dance, eh?”

  20

  Lepidus and Appius sat in a ground car made to look like a common electric taxi. The Praetorians had modified this “taxi” so a person could drive it, giving its passengers a subtle disguise in the busy Roman streets.