by Rob Steiner
“I will tell you,” Nestor said. “But first you must tell us the whole story of Umbra. And do not forget the Muses.”
27
Kaeso stared at Nestor as if seeing him for the first time. He sat straighter in his chair, and seemed more confident. This was not the skittish medicus Kaeso had known for two years.
“Who are you?” Kaeso asked.
Nestor licked his lips. “I am the same man you've always known, Centuriae. I'm Nestor Samaras, a medicus from New Athens and a Pantheon priest. I also belong to a society that wants to free humanity from slavery.”
Blaesus grunted. “You’re an abolitionist?”
“Yes, but that’s not the slavery I’m referring to,” Nestor said, staring at Kaeso.
Kaeso narrowed his eyes. “You're a Saturnist.”
Nestor nodded once, then smiled.
Over 150 years ago, the Saturnists popped up on Libertus with stories that the government had aliens inside their brains. They were a joke to most Liberti, but Umbra took them seriously. Over the next few decades, Umbra systematically wiped them out so that now hardly anybody on Libertus knew what a “Saturnist” was.
Blaesus threw up his hands. “Am I the only one on this ship who's not in some secret organization?” He looked at Lucia. “Are you in a secret organization?”
Lucia turned to Nestor. “What is a Saturnist?”
“Centuriae,” Nestor said to Kaeso, “it would make more sense to them if you told your story first.”
Umbra conditioning taught Kaeso to distrust or ignore Saturnist propaganda. When Kaeso was in Umbra, they knew Saturnists still existed, but the group was so marginalized and scattered that Umbra didn’t think them worth the resources to hunt down.
Now Kaeso had a self-professed Saturnist on his ship.
“No,” he said.
Nestor shrugged. “I am going to tell them my side of the story, and it will leave them with questions you’ll have to answer sooner or later.”
“Jupiter’s cock,” Blaesus exclaimed. “Somebody start talking!”
Kaeso glared at Nestor. The Greek medicus returned Kaeso’s glare with a nonplussed gaze.
How fast could I kill him before he—?
Kaeso shook away that thought, horrified it even came to him. Why? the old Ancile in him asked. It’s what you were good at.
Kaeso ground his teeth, keenly aware Nestor and the crew were watching him. “If I tell you what Nestor wants me to tell you,” Kaeso said, looking from Daryush to Blaesus to Lucia, “then it’s possible you will have a permanent death mark on your heads. Umbra may track you down and kill you for hearing this.”
All three looked at each other. Blaesus asked, “What are the chances they won't kill us for knowing their name?”
“The deal I made with the Navigator might prevent that. The key word is might, especially after…” Kaeso glanced at Lucia again.
She slammed one hand on the table. “If I could take it back I would, but I can’t. He’s going to live, so could we just move past it and figure out what to do now?”
Kaeso knew she was right about focusing on their future plans and not the past. But he would not let her off as easy as she wanted.
“If I tell you the rest,” Kaeso continued, “I don’t know if my deal with the Navigator will protect you when they find out what you know.”
“How will they know?” Lucia said. “Who will tell them?” Lucia glanced around the room, her gaze resting on Nestor.
Nestor shook his head. “You have nothing to fear from me. Umbra would kill me too if I went to them with this. Never mind the fact they would kill me for being a Saturnist.”
“It’s me,” Kaeso said. They all turned to him, and Kaeso explained how his reactivated implant worked.
Blaesus sighed. “So according to you, our only hope to survive this is to extract the Consular Heir from Roma and hand him over to your Umbra people.”
“Yes,” Kaeso said.
“But even then,” Blaesus continued, “they may still kill us for knowing about these ‘Muses.’”
“Yes.”
Blaesus turned to Nestor. “And you, whoever you are, say we can avoid an assassin’s bullet and give the Heir to your ‘Saturnist’ friends.”
“I cannot guarantee against a bullet from Umbra,” Nestor said, “but, yes, you will be more protected by my people than if you work with Umbra.”
Blaesus sat back and folded his arms. “Well I don’t trust either of you.”
They all stared at each other for several long moments, and Kaeso didn’t have long before Nestor began spewing whatever Saturnist propaganda his people assumed about the Muses. Then Kaeso would have to refute those claims, but from a defensive position.
They’re going to know anyway, he thought. They should at least know the truth.
He looked at his crew and said, “The Liberti are no more clever than any other human nation. But we were lucky, because we colonized a planet with intelligent alien life.”
Blaesus and Lucia leaned forward in their chairs, while Nestor settled back with a satisfied smile.
“We call them the Muses,” Kaeso said. “They’ve never told us their real name. They seem to like being compared to the gods of inspiration.”
“How has Libertus kept this secret so long?” Blaesus asked. “Bona Dea, people have been searching for alien intelligence since before humans left Terra. What do they look like?”
“A bit like influenza.”
“Wait,” Lucia said. “They look like a giant virus?”
“No, they are a virus.”
Blaesus's eyes widened. “The Muses are an intelligent alien virus?”
“That's right,” Kaeso said. I pray to the gods I’ve not just killed you all.
“Fascinating,” Blaesus said. “So they infect people? How do they communicate? When did the Liberti discover—?”
Kaeso held up his hands. “It would take days for me to tell you everything. Here's what you need to know right now. Umbra's tech comes from the Muses’ ancient wisdom. The Muses infect human volunteers—we call them Vessels—and pass that wisdom on. The Vessels communicate tech designs to Umbra engineers who make it a reality.”
Lucia stared at him. “Are you a, um...”
“No I'm not,” Kaeso said, “but the Navigator is.”
“The Navigator has this alien virus in him right now?” Lucia asked. “Is that why he's healing so fast?”
Kaeso nodded. “Among other things, the Muses transform their host’s metabolism and cellular structure. Makes them virtually immune to other diseases, and helps them heal faster than normal humans.”
Kaeso turned to Nestor. “There. Now your turn.”
Nestor cleared his throat. “A succinct description of an intelligence that has enslaved humanity.”
“‘Slavery,’” Kaeso grunted. “I call it protection. You cannot deny that Libertus has enjoyed unprecedented freedom and prosperity with the Muses’ help.”
“Of course you're prosperous,” Nestor said. “For now. But you are not free. Have you ever asked what the price will be? Did you ever ask what the so-called Muses want from you? I can assure you they're not helping Libertus out of the goodness of their nucleic hearts.”
“They thrive on experience, on wisdom,” Kaeso said. “Every Vessel they infect gives them a lifetime of memories the Muses record in their collective consciousness. Experience to them is like gold to us. That is how we pay them.”
“Ah, Centuriae,” Nestor said, “you’ve bought the lie as well.”
“Fine,” Kaeso said. “What do you think they want?”
Nestor smiled. “That is the question we Saturnists have been trying to answer for the last thousand years.”
“I told you, the original Liberti colonists discovered the Muses when they settled the planet two centuries ago.”
“True,” Nestor said, leaning forward. “But the Muses have been with humanity a lot longer. My friend, the Muses infected Roma first.”
“You don’t believe me, do you?” Nestor said.
“It’s impossible,” Kaeso said. “The Muses would know if there was another strain on Terra. Umbra would know.”
Nestor shook his head. “Centuriae, of course the Muses know. Of course Umbra knows. How could they not? Why do you think a Vessel is forbidden to land on Terra? Because the Roman Muse strain would immediately detect them.”
Kaeso swallowed. It was true, Vessels were forbidden to land on Terra. Umbra said Vessels were too valuable, that it would be a disaster if they fell into Roman hands. Kaeso had accepted the Umbra explanation without question.
Or maybe his implant prevented him questioning it…
“Why then?” Kaeso said. “If what you say is true, why would the Liberti Muses want to fight the Terran Muses? If they’re the same virus—”
“They’re the same virus, but different strains,” Nestor said. “The Liberti strain is different from the Terran strain. They fight each other for the same reason humans fight each other. Aggressiveness is inherent to all intelligent species.”
When Kaeso stayed silent, Nestor continued. “Over the centuries, we’ve learned the two strains have different ‘personalities,’ if you will. The Liberti strain prefers working behind the scenes, secretly moving events to their liking. It makes them feel safer. Whereas the Roman strain prefers hosts that are worshiped like gods. That's why only the Consular Family and the Collegia Pontificis are infected.”
Blaesus leaned forward. “So it's these Muses that give the Consul and the Collegia the technology they pass on, as if it came from the gods?”
Nestor nodded. “It has been that way since Marcus Antonius deposed Octavian Caesar.”
“Antonius was infected?” Blaesus asked. He ran a hand through his thinning white hair. “How did this all happen?”
“We don't know for sure,” Nestor said, “but Saturnist legend says Antonius was infected while in Egypt during the Second Triumvirate years.”
“But how was he infected?” Blaesus asked.
“That is lost to history,” Nestor said. “As every human knows, Antonius returned to Roma after a decade in Egypt, his legions armed with the first crude muskets and cannons. He claimed he was the Voice of the Gods, who gave him this wondrous technology to bring Roma into a permanent Golden Age.”
Kaeso glanced at Lucia, who looked like someone whose entire faith was crumbling before her eyes. Blaesus was interested, but he also seemed uncomfortable, even for a self-proclaimed agnostic. Kaeso could not blame them. Everything they'd been taught their whole lives—things all Romans were taught—was turning out to be a lie.
Kaeso's stomach leaped. “That is the secret,” he said, without realizing he spoke aloud. Everyone turned to him. “When the Navigator first explained this mission, he said the Consular Heir had a secret that could bring down the Republic. If that's the secret, that the ‘Voices of the Gods’ are an alien virus, then it would cause complete chaos in the Republic.”
Blaesus nodded grimly. “Say what you want about the Republic, but it’s a stable institution that has lasted over fifteen hundred years. If Roma crumbles...well, a third of humanity would dissolve into bloody anarchy. And not just in Roma. Most worlds worship some gods of the Roman Pantheon, even the Zhonguo. This revelation would touch every human being, and not in a good way.”
“But humanity would be free to worship the real gods,” Nestor said. “Yes, the Muses have given us prosperity, but what if they go silent and stop giving us their technology? What if they do what every other deadly virus does and begin killing people? Do you think we could stop a sentient virus from doing what it wants to us?”
“You would reveal this horrible secret despite the cost in lives?”
“Of course,” Nestor said. “Because the only way humanity will be free is if we stand on our own, without these aliens. Maybe then we will rediscover the true gods of the Pantheon, not these viral pretenders.”
“Who's to say these ‘viral pretenders,’ as you call them, were not the inspiration behind the gods we worshiped?” Blaesus asked. “Who's to say the ‘gods’ were not always the Muses?”
Nestor shook his head vehemently. “No, the gods exist. This virus took them away from us by pretending to be gods.”
Lucia muttered into her hands, “This is insane.”
Kaeso glanced at Daryush, who stared out at the corridor, as if checking on Dariya just down the hall.
“Nestor,” Kaeso said, interrupting the argument with Blaesus. “You haven't told us what you want, and what you’re doing on this ship.”
Nestor said, “The Muses took the true gods from humanity. They made us turn to false gods like the Consul and his dogs in the Collegia Pontificis. Worlds who worship the Pantheon still see the Consul and Collegia as authoritative voices in religious doctrine, even if they have no wish to be part of the Republic. Saturnists want to free humanity from Muse domination, to return us to the natural order of things. Where humanity makes its own choices, without interference from these aliens who call themselves 'gods.'”
Nestor turned his brown eyes on Kaeso. “My people have been hunted since the days of Antonius. We've been called many names over the centuries, but Saturnist is our most recent. We are wanderers. We travel the way lines searching for a cure to this virus that enslaves humanity. That is our mandate from the true gods of the Pantheon.” Then he grinned. “For me personally, I signed on to your ship because I assumed your, ah, business would take me to some interesting corners of the universe. Corners that might have a cure. Turns out I was right.”
“So you want us to hand the boy over to you?” Kaeso said. “What good would that do us?”
“For one,” Nestor said, “an alien virus does not control me. Second, a Vessel of one strain does not up and move to a world infected with another strain. It has never happened. The strains hate each other. That is why this boy must be special. It suggests one of two things: the boy is not a Muse infectee, which seems impossible since he’s the Consular Heir, or the boy can somehow overrule the virus within him. Which suggests—”
“The boy himself may be the cure,” Kaeso finished for Nestor.
The recent actions of both Roma and Umbra now made perfect sense. Now Kaeso could see why Roma desperately wanted the boy back. And Umbra would do anything to get their hands on a way to control the Consul and the Collegia, not to mention hide any “cure” for the Liberti Muses. Kaeso’s implant ached with the knowledge and thoughts he was having. Sedition, Ancile. That’s what you’re thinking, and that’s what your implant hates. You know how Umbra repays sedition.
“It's a theory,” Nestor said, leaning back in his chair, “but it makes the most sense given the information we have.”
Blaesus said, “If you can use the boy to kill these alien viruses, how would it affect their hosts?”
Daryush raised his eyebrows and turned to Nestor expectantly.
Nestor shook his head. “I don’t know. The Vessels could gain control over the Muses within them, or the Vessels might die as the Muses die. The Muses are so integrated with their hosts that any attempt to remove them might prove fatal to the host.”
Daryush groaned.
“Fine, you want him because everybody else does,” Kaeso said. “Again, how does that help us? And by 'us,' I mean my crew who has not lied to me about their identities.”
Nestor laughed. “You're one to talk, Centuriae. But to answer your question, the Saturnists can protect you. How long do you think you'd last on your own with both Praetorians and Umbra chasing you?”
We’d live longer lives staying right here, Kaeso thought. But neither was he eager to jump into the arms of a third group that he thought just a few minutes ago was made up of crackpots at best, seditionists at worst.
“We've become good at protecting ourselves,” Nestor went on. “We have colonies in the Lost Worlds and in Roman space. We've even hid from Umbra, which is no small feat.”
“So
you can protect us,” Kaeso said. “What else?”
“My, you are greedy, Centuriae.”
“Nestor, you've been a part of this crew for two years. Aren't you the least bit concerned for Dariya?”
Nestor's eyes softened, and for the first time since he revealed what he was, he turned away from Kaeso. “Of course I'm concerned,” he said. “This crew is family to me just as they are to you.” He looked back. “That is why you must give the boy to the Saturnists. If you give him to Umbra, they will hide him in a hole so deep he’ll never be found. Then they will kill you. You know this.”
“Enough,” Lucia said, staring at Nestor. “The things you're saying... What proof do you have? How can we believe anything you say?” She looked at Kaeso. “Either of you?”
Kaeso realized how hard this must be for his crew to accept. He was used to outlandish stories, since he'd seen and done outlandish things with Umbra. It was easier for him to accept the plausibility of Nestor's stories. Daryush wasn't Roman, so these revelations did not seem to bother him, except where it concerned Dariya. For Lucia and Blaesus, however, Nestor’s allegations struck at their identity.
Nestor regarded her sympathetically. “I know this is all hard to take, and there's nothing I can say that will make you believe me. If anything, you should trust the fact that Kaeso can corroborate much of my story.”
Kaeso shook his head. “Much of what you just said is news to me, as well. How do I know you're not a Roman agent? An Umbra Ancile? A freelancer for the Zhonguo? You could be anybody, Nestor Samaras. If that's your real name.”
Nestor smiled sadly. “It is not the name I was born with, but it is my name for now.”
“I agree with Lucia,” Blaesus said. “How can we trust you both now? Seems I don't know either of you.”
Kaeso wanted to protest that the implant, and the threat of immediate death to anyone who learned about Umbra, always prevented him from revealing his past. But he knew mere words could not gain back trust. He spent the last six years building that trust with his crew. He had just destroyed it in the last six days.