Muses of Roma (Codex Antonius Book 1) (42 page)

“You're not mad,” Petra said. Her voice had the same ethnic Indian lilt that overwhelmed Kaeso with sweet memories of her singing to an infant Claudia.

“I think I am,” he whispered. “You’re dead.”

“Yes,” she said, walking into the galley. “But I'm also here, with you. I always have been. I always will.”

Kaeso squeezed his eyes shut, then opened them again.

She was gone.

He slid down the wall and landed hard on his bottom. He pulled his knees up to his chest and stared at the empty corridor.

Recognizing his own madness proved liberating to Kaeso. Now that he knew this wasn’t real, he was free from any responsibility for his crew. He would not have to feed them or force water down their throats to keep them hydrated. He stopped worrying about the delta system—after all, the system was not really broken, and he was not really here. He didn't even attempt to inspect the way line engines. What was the point if he were sitting in a sanatorium somewhere?

His calf, however, would not heal, though it did not worsen either. He changed the bandages twice a day, and injected painkiller after painkiller, but nothing seemed to reduce the infection around the wound. Perhaps madness would eventually take care of the calf as well.

More
numina
came after Petra. One
numen
, the first face he saw outside his command window, appeared again when Kaeso went back to the command deck and sat in his couch to think. He recognized the Roman Senator he assassinated almost ten years ago. She had been his first. The Senator wanted to push through a law to ban Liberti goods from Roman vassal worlds. Liberti goods were already banned from Terra in a symbolic, rather than effective, embargo. But a ban on vassal worlds would have devastated the economy of Libertus. So Umbra ordered Kaeso to take care of the problem. Kaeso administered a subtle poison that made it appear the Senator died of a heart attack.

Now the Senator stared at Kaeso through the command deck window with accusing eyes.

“I'm not going to apologize, if that's what you want,” Kaeso told the floating face. The face stared at him, then disappeared moments later.

He saw more
numina
of the people he killed. In mirrors, reflected off the cargo hold’s glass walls, on tabulari displays. He ignored them all, knowing full well his madness was dredging up guilty feelings he never had after he killed them.

He didn't see Petra again until three days later.

Kaeso was taking a shower for the first time in four days. Even in his madness, he could still smell his own body odor. He had just cleaned the soap off of his head when he noticed the outline of a figure outside the shower. He opened the door and saw Petra standing before him. She was naked—goose bumps covering her olive skin, erect nipples on delicate breasts. By this time, Kaeso had grown comfortable with his madness. The sight of Petra did not shock him, only created a longing he hadn’t felt since her death. A longing mirrored in her brown eyes. He held his hand out to her and she took it.

The first time they made love was in a shower in a resort hotel in the Liberti capital city, Avita. It had been passionate, sweet, and filled with shy giggles. This time, on a starship beyond the known universe—or a dark corner of his insane mind—was every bit as passionate, sweet, and full of giggles.

Afterwards they wrapped each other in thick towels and Kaeso guided her to his bunk where they made love again. She responded to his touch and kisses with the quickened breath and goose flesh he remembered, responses that multiplied his own excitement.

He had missed Petra beyond all reasoning.

When they finished, they lay on the bunk, both exhausted with a sheen of sweat covering their bodies. Kaeso held Petra’s warm naked body tightly to his, afraid he would lose her again.

Afraid sanity would return.

“I'm still dead, you know.”

Petra’s chin rested on Kaeso's chest. Her brown eyes were bright and she wore the same dreamy grin she always had after they made love.

“And I'm mad,” he said. “What a pair we make.”

“You're not mad.”

“I'm either mad or dead. Am I dead?”

“No.”

“Ergo...”

She sighed. “You really don't understand what's happening, do you?”

“I understand I'm in a sanatorium staring at a crack in the wall.” He gave her a squeeze. “I'll take this kind of madness any day.”

She didn't smile. “You can't stay here forever.”

“Seems I don’t have a choice in the matter.”

“You do have a choice,” she said. “You've always had a choice. You just never had the courage to make it.”

“Insulting my honor now, are we?”

“I'm being honest,” she said. “Like always.”

“Do we have to talk about his? Can't we just...” He ran his fingers gently down her soft back and smooth thigh. She sighed contentedly, but continued regarding him with sad eyes.

“If that's your choice,” she said.

When Kaeso awoke, Petra was gone. He sat up straight in his bunk, the crushing weight of loss descending on him like the day he watched her ship explode.

He hurried to the open hatch.

“Petra!”

He charged down the corridor and then skidded to a stop in front of the galley. Petra sat at the table eating a freeze-dried meal. She wore one of Kaeso's merchant jumpsuits, the sleeves rolled up to her forearms. A strand of dark hair hung over her left eye, and she pulled it back behind her ear when she looked up at him.

“I can't believe you have red curry chicken in freeze-dried,” she said. She took another bite and sighed. “Not like the real thing, but it's still nectar from the gods.”

“I thought you left me,” he said.

“I'm not going anywhere. Unless you want me to.”

“No!”

She frowned and then turned back to her food. She acted as if he’d said something wrong, and he was about to ask when she laughed. “Aren't you cold?”

He realized he was naked. He grinned, then went back to his quarters and put on a merchant jump suit. When he returned, Petra was scooping out the last bit of curry gravy from the plastic tray. She licked her spoon clean and then placed it in the dish. Kaeso watched her, marveling at the detail of his madness. Her idiosyncrasies—from her soft moans when they made love to her eating habits, things Kaeso had not realized he'd forgotten—were on display. His love for her blanketed him in a warmth he had not felt since the day she died.

She smiled. “You haven't stopped grinning since our shower.”

“I missed you.”

“I could tell.” She stared at him a moment longer, then asked, “Why am I here?”

He shrugged. “I'm either mad or dead.”

“You're neither.”

“Then what am I? Because I know you're dead. I watched your ship die. I heard your screams on the com.”

She licked her lips. “Yes, you heard the dying screams of Petra on that ship ten years ago. The Sodalicium’s bombs were quite thorough.”

“You say it like you're talking about a different person.”

“Because I am. I'm not
your
Petra.”

Kaeso smiled. “You sure look and sound like her to me.” He reached across the table and held her soft, warm hands. “You feel like my Petra.”

She took his hands in hers and kissed them, but she wore the same expression as before, as if he had said the wrong thing. He knew she was trying to tell him something important, but he ignored it. She was all he wanted. To stare into her brown eyes, to feel her warm skin next to his, to take in her natural scent. He wanted to hear her voice, to feel her heart beating when he laid his head on her chest.

He knew she wanted to tell him something important. Something that might bring him out of his madness.

He just didn't care.

“When was the last time you checked on your crew?” Petra asked him.

They lay on his bunk in the darkness, the lights from the corridor illuminating the room in a soft yellow glow. They held each other beneath the blankets; Petra's warm naked skin pressed against his bare chest and legs.

“They're fine.”

“When?”

“I don't know. Two days ago.”

“Aren't you worried about them?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Because they’re not real. How many times are you going to ask me this?”

She put her chin on his chest, looking at him. “They are very much real. And they need you.”

He sighed. She had not said much about the crew or the reason she was here in days, so Kaeso hoped she had given up trying to “save” him. They made love, played games on the ship's tabulari, talked about old times, ate more freeze-dried foods. It had been this way when they first married—complete focus on each other. He wanted it to go on forever.

“How can I help them?” he asked. “Even if what you say is true, and I'm not mad and I'm not dead—which I still think I'm one or the other—then what am I supposed to do? I've already tried waking them up. I've tried engaging the way line engines. I've tried the com systems on all channels. Nothing works. Unless Mercury picks us up, we're stuck here for eternity. We might as well get comfortable.”

She shook her head. “The Kaeso I remember would not have given up this easy.”

“
Kaeso
didn’t exist when you knew me.”

“How is your calf?”

“Bandaged and numb.”

“But no better? Don’t you think it odd you’ve had that wound over two weeks, but it’s never gotten worse or better?”

Before Kaeso could respond, she asked, “Aren't you wondering why I haven't asked about Claudia?”

Kaeso stiffened.

“We’ve been together almost a week,” she continued. “Why haven’t we once talked about our only child?”

“We...we were distracted.”

“We never talk about her because you don’t want to,” she said gently. “Because you are ashamed of how you treated her after I died.”

He got up and started putting on his jump suit.

“Have you noticed we only discuss the things you want?”

He grunted. “If that's true than why are we having this conversation?”

“Because you know you
need
it. Even though you don’t
want
it.”

He zipped up his jump suit. “I don't
need
to be reminded I was a bad father.”

Kaeso left the quarters. His calf was throbbing again.

Petra was gone when Kaeso returned to his bunk. He'd been gone ten minutes; long enough to inject more painkillers in his calf and go to the galley to make some
kaffa
.

The blankets were rumpled and empty. He searched the crew quarters but did not find her. He ran up and down each deck, but she was gone.

After searching the entire ship multiple times, he went back to his bunk, sat down, and pulled the blankets up to his face, taking in her scent.

“Petra,” he said, a sob breaking through. “Petra...”

Kaeso stared at the two week’s worth of beard in his bathroom mirror. He briefly considered shaving, but didn't see the point.

“Ready to talk?”

He whirled around and saw Petra standing in his quarters. She wore the white robes and tan vest of the Prosecutorium where she once tried cases in Avita's criminal court. Her long dark hair was pulled back into looping braids that hung down her back. She looked exactly the same as the day she died.

“Why did you leave?” he asked. It had been two days since she disappeared from his bed. He spent those two days either sleeping or talking to his unconscious crew.

“Because you wanted me to.”

“I never—”

“You didn't want to discuss why you're here.”

Kaeso looked away.

“You can only stay here for so long before your way back is closed. Then you
will
be mad. And it certainly won't be like this.”

“So where are we?”

“You stayed awake during the way line jump. This is how your mind perceives the way line.”

“Who are you?”

She smiled. “I’m glad you finally asked.” She put her hands in the folds of her sleeves. “Your Petra is dead. I'm simply the memory you retain of her. You created the image that stands before you.”

Kaeso walked out of the bathroom and into his room. He stood before her, studying her. She returned his stare with a patient one. “Those memories should have been wiped out when I got my Umbra implant. How is it I remember you so vividly?”

“The implant does not wipe out memories. It only diminishes them so you may devote your full attention to Umbra.”

“So if you're a memory, how do you know all this?”

“I'm not just a memory. I am the vessel through which the Muses in your implant are talking to you.”

Kaeso scratched his beard. “The Muses in my implant aren't alive.”

“They are alive. They just don't infect your body. How do you think you communicated with Libertus from Roma?”

Kaeso was suddenly angry. “So you plucked an image of Petra from my mind to manipulate me.“

“No,” Petra said. “The Muses cannot read minds. No strain can.
You
created this image.”

“Nestor said staying awake during a way line jump would kill the Muses. Is that true?”

Petra nodded. “Ocella will control her body when she wakes up. The reason I am here is because your implant protected the Muses within it, to some extent, and the Muses within the implant protected your mind.”

“To some extent?”

“To protect your mind, they had to create a shelter for it. They do not have the strength to bring you out. Now you've turned that shelter into a prison.”

Kaeso glanced around. “Looks like my ship to me.”

“Like me, this prison is something you created,” Petra said. “If you're honest with yourself, you'll admit that's the only way you've ever seen this ship.”

“A starship is freedom, not a prison. It means I can go wherever I want, whenever I want.”

“A starship is responsibility,” Petra said. “Responsibility has always been a prison for you.”

Kaeso scowled at this “constructed image” of his beloved Petra. He did not see
Caduceus
as a prison. He bought the ship for the reasons he just told her. A starship was freedom. All he'd ever wanted since he was a child was to wander the way lines, see all the star systems colonized by humanity, and maybe discover an unknown way line terminus. Before Petra was murdered by the Sodalicium, a Liberti criminal syndicate angry at her prosecutions of its members, he’d commanded a small police cruiser in the Liberti system. But he'd always viewed the system-bound cruiser as a stepping-stone to an interstellar command. One that would give him his childhood dream of exploring the universe.