Muses of Terra (Codex Antonius Book 2) (6 page)

Ocella exhaled once, then wanted to scream at the holo.
What good will screaming at it do? It thinks it’s doing me a favor.
 

“I would have preferred,” she said slowly, using all her will to stamp down her panic, “that you had not…ended my crew member’s existence. She was important to me the way she was. I do not want a…replacement, nor do I want you to do the same to my crew member here.”

The holo stared blankly for almost a minute. Ocella wondered if it was unable, or unwilling, to understand her request.

“We do not understand why Marcia Licinius Ocella species prefers flawed drones. Confusion. We wonder why Marcia Licinius Ocella species does not appreciate our services. Insulted. Besides, preferences of Marcia Licinius Ocella species are irrelevant. Dominance. Only experiences valued. Anticipation.”

The blue-lit veins in the room pulsated quicker, and then the entire wall behind the holo turned gray. The holo winked out, and then a 3-D image of the space around the vessel displayed on the wall, complete with the brown-clouded planet below. The view swiveled around to the left until it faced the empty space that held the way line.

“Oh, gods,” Varo said, “are they taking us through the way line? If we go through without delta sleep—!”

The view flickered, and then the Menota debris cloud appeared. The vessel plowed through the debris as if it weren’t there, turning rock, metal, and ice into atoms when the debris struck the translucent, blue energy shield surrounding it.

After ensuring her sanity—
if I were insane, would I know?
—she sat next to Varo. “You might as well take your helmet off. Better to save your air until you really need it.”

Varo took off the helmet, revealing his sweaty, matted black hair. It took him several deep breaths before his eyes returned to a normal size and he set his helmet beside him. He stared at the display wall. “Where do you think they’re going?”

Only experiences valued.
 

Ocella stared at the wall. “Menota.”

If they were like the other Muse strains humanity had encountered, they valued experiences—the memories and emotions all intelligent species generated—above all else. The archives Kaeso and Cordus retrieved from Menota had taught the Saturnists that “experiences” were their gold, religion, and sustenance all rolled into one.
 

Ocella wondered what they would do when they learned the Menota archives were gone.

6

“Cordus will be my second on this mission,” Kaeso said to
Vacuna’s
four other crew members in Cargo One. “Questions?”

Cordus struggled to keep his face impassive as shock roiled through him.
Second? I only wanted to come along. He wants me to be his Trierarch?
Granted, this was a simple courier mission: pick up a device that could detect the scentless aura of Muses in any Muse-infected human. A Saturnist named Aulus Tarpeius had developed the device on the Roman agricultural planet Reantium. They would also meet Lucia and Ocella there after their month-long mission to Menota. But as Kaeso had drilled into him for six years, there was no such thing as a ‘simple’ mission. Anything could go wrong once you step outside your door, and you had to prepare for it.

Gaius Octavius Blaesus, a white-haired, exiled Roman Senator and patrician, sat in a spare flight couch. He clapped his hands and beamed at Cordus. As always, he spoke first.

“It’s about time you gave this young man responsibility, Centuriae. As I've always said, he needs the practice. Congratulations, Trierarch Antonius.”

Cordus frowned. “You mean ‘Trierarch Aemilius’.”

Only the crew of
Vacuna
, Gaia Julius, and select members of the Saturnist upper echelon knew Cordus’s real identity. To everyone else, he was Titus Aemilius Cordus, nephew of Kaeso Aemilius and Marcia Licinius Ocella. After he escaped Terra, he had “disappeared” to Caesar Nova, a Lost World with geography and weather similar to northern Britannia—rocky, wet, and cold.

But Cordus knew what Blaesus meant by “practice.” He tried his best every day to avoid thinking about it. Blaesus believed the romantic notion that Cordus should return to Roma, declare himself the Consular Heir, and then the civil war would end and all humanity would be united under a single ruler, as it was meant to be.

There was nothing in the universe Cordus wanted less.

Nestor Samaras, the ship’s medicus, a Pantheon priest, and a committed Saturnist, frowned. The dark-haired Greek priest did not share Blaesus’s fantasies and, in fact, opposed a return to the Roman government’s old ways: rule by a single consul and a religious Collegia Pontificis, with a Senate that simply “advised” the rulers. Nestor had ancient Athenian ideas of democracy that were just as romantic as Blaesus’s. He hoped Roma would emerge from its civil war with a Liberti-style government that combined ancient Roman republicanism with Greek democracy. Cordus thought it was another fantasy, but he could always count on Nestor to oppose Blaesus when the topic of Cordus’s return to Roma came up.

“Unlike my Roman friend here,” Nestor said cautiously, “I hope your ambitions are limited to commanding a starship.”

“No other ambitions come to mind,” Cordus said.
 

He glanced at Kaeso, who was as blank-faced as ever.
I know you think like Blaesus. That’s why you made me your second. You want me to get used to giving orders so I can fulfill my “destiny”. Well get used to disappointment.
 

“Can we get back to work?” asked Dariya, one of two engineers on the ship. She leaned against a bulkhead with an impatient expression. Daryush, the ship’s second engineer and Dariya’s twin brother, stood next to her. Daryush, a large man with a naturally bald head, stood with his hands in the pockets of his green jumpsuit looking from Dariya to Kaeso. Dariya and Daryush were Persians and former slaves to a wealthy Roman patrician. They escaped slavery and fled to the Lost Worlds. Kaeso hired them years ago as engineers on
Vacuna
. Daryush’s tongue had been cut out by his former Roman master, but Daryush was the most brilliant engineer Cordus had met during his brief time among the Lost Worlds.
 

Dariya, however, more than made up for her brother’s silence. She turned to Cordus. “‘Ush and I need to finish integrating that damned energy shield the Saturnists installed yesterday.” She looked past Cordus to Kaeso. “By the way, Centuriae, why does
Vacuna
have to be the test subject for Gaia Julius’s new toys?”

Kaeso shrugged. “
We
discovered the shield tech on Menota, so
we
get to test it. If it does what they say it does, it’ll make us indestructible in a fight.”

“Or implode us to the size of an atom,” Dariya grumbled, adding a Persian curse under her breath. She turned back to Cordus. “Do we have your leave,
Trierarch
?”

Cordus suppressed a grin at Dariya’s tact, or lack thereof. In the six years he’d known her, he came to realize she only spoke that way to people she trusted. She just ignored people she didn’t trust.
 

“I have nothing to say,” Cordus said. “Centuriae?”

Kaeso shook his head.

“Then you have leave to finish your engine prep.”

“His Highness is most kind,” she said, bowing deeply. Then she gave him a half-grin and left. Daryush, however, smiled broadly at Cordus and applauded softly. He then followed his sister to the engine room at the other end of the corridor.

Blaesus stood and put his hands on Cordus’s shoulders. “Ah, my boy, I remember when you first came to us. A twelve-year-old with big brown eyes, tousled black hair, and an infant’s naiveté about the universe outside Roma. How far you’ve come in just six short years. No doubt thanks to my tutoring.”

Nestor stood as well. “You mean
despite
your tutoring?”

Blaesus lifted his chin. “You wound me, Medicus. If not for me, Cordus here would have no knowledge of his Roman ancestry or the intricacies of Roman governance. Why he’d be just as ignorant of Roma’s contributions to humanity as the Lost World barbarians…present company excluded, of course.”

“Blaesus, you’re an arrogant fop,” Nestor said. “He can get that from his Muses.”

“Ah, but the Muses only give him
memories
of his ancestors’ exploits. Having someone else’s memories does not give one the
skills
used in those memories. Can you command Legions by simply reading the biography of Gaius Julius Caesar? I think not. Mastering the skills in those memories takes practice, which is what
I
gave him.”

Cordus held up his hands. “Gentlemen, as always, I find your debates enlightening, but right now I need to speak to the Centuriae alone.”
 

Nestor shrugged and left Cargo One. Blaesus wrapped his red scarf around his neck. “Trierarch, Centuriae, I’ll leave you to your conference. Besides, I need to study my
latrunculi
strategies before we get to Reantium. Aulus Tarpeius may be generous to host us at his villa, but he is most vicious across the
latrunculi
board. Why I can count on one hand the number of times I’ve defeated the man in the forty-two years I’ve known him. Did you know he—?”
 

“Blaesus,” Cordus said, “I really need to speak to the Centuriae.”

“Of course, sire. I was doing it again, wasn’t I?”

Cordus grinned.

“Very well, I will leave you without another word.”

Miraculously, Blaesus left Cargo One and closed the hatch without another word.

Before Cordus could speak, Kaeso said, “I made you trierarch because you’re ready for it. I didn’t tell you before now because I wanted to see how you reacted when I sprung it on you.”

“Did I pass the test?” Cordus asked.

Kaeso shrugged. “At least you pretended you knew all along. One of the first rules of leadership: Always act like you know what’s going on. Especially when you don’t.”

Kaeso proceeded to explain another point of leadership, but his voice faded from Cordus’s attention.

Marcus Antonius Primus stood behind Kaeso, his muscled arms folded. He stared at Cordus with preternatural blue eyes and wore a sideways grin. He had dark, curly hair and a well-trimmed beard. He wore the ancient Roman armor and scarlet cloak of a military commander. A gladius hung in a sheath from his left hip. His armor was dented and stained from multiple battles. Legends and Cordus’s Muse memories told him Marcus Antonius loved to wade into the thick of battle. But after the Muses infected him in Egypt, they had kept him back.

Only an alien virus could keep Marcus from doing what he loved.

“You listening, kid?”

Cordus swung his eyes back to Kaeso. “Leadership is hard, I get it,” Cordus said, using all his will to ignore the apparition of Marcus Antonius. “I still would rather have known before you announced it to the crew.”

Kaeso stared at Cordus, then slowly looked over his shoulder to where Marcus Antonius stood with folded arms. Cordus’s heart raced, and he thought Kaeso saw Marcus, but Kaeso turned back to Cordus with suspicious eyes.

He doesn’t see. Gods, I
am
going mad.

Marcus Antonius barked a laugh that echoed in the hold. Kaeso didn’t even flinch at the sound.

“Like I said,” Kaeso continued, “I wanted to test your reaction to a real situation with real consequences. Not some drill, but one where your world just changed and you had only moments to adapt.”

Oh, Kaeso, if you knew how my world was changing right now…

“And you get to pilot the ship,” Kaeso said with a slight grin. “Hope that doesn’t add more pressure.”

Sweat beaded in the center of Cordus’s back. “I’ve done it dozens of times. But Lucia will kick me out of her couch when she sees me—”

“I told Lucia before she left. She knows you’ll be Trierarch for the entire mission, not just the trip there.”

Cordus shook his head. “So you’ve planned this for over a month? What did Ocella say?”

Kaeso winced. “I…didn’t tell her. Deep down she knows you need to do this. I’ll deal with the consequences.”

“Well this should be a fun reunion.”

“Mmm. We leave in thirty minutes. Make sure everyone does their job, Trierarch.”

“Yes, Centuriae,” Cordus said. His voice sounded stiff, and he hoped Kaeso assumed it was the stress of his new responsibilities.
 

What else should he think? That I see my ancient ancestor’s ghost?

Cordus’s gaze swept the hold. “I want to make sure everything’s locked down here first.”

Kaeso nodded. “You’ll do fine, kid.”

Cordus gave Kaeso a reassuring smile, and then he started inspecting the cargo fastenings as Kaeso left the hold.

When the hatch closed, Cordus whirled around to Marcus Antonius. The ancient Roman unfolded his arms and walked straight toward Cordus. Cordus took an involuntary step back, but then stopped.
 

He’s not real. He can’t hurt me. Stop running, coward!

“We’re very real, young Antonius,” Marcus said, standing a single pace from Cordus. “Want to touch us?”

Cordus just watched Marcus, his breath quickening and the sweat dripping down his back. “Are you…from the Muses?”

Marcus laughed. “Obviously. What, did you think we were Marcus Antonius Primus come back to life? That man died long ago, and he was quite a bit more trouble than we bargained for. Did you know we had to infect him twice before we could control him? The first time, his body rejected us because he refused to listen when we told him to stop drinking wine. Clouds our senses, as you know. Our flamens injected him again, and after some adaptations on our part, we finally infected him. We’ve had no trouble infecting anyone since.” Marcus eyed Cordus with a wry smile. “Until you came along.”

“My Muses are creating this vision of you?”

“Young Antonius, ‘your Muses’ are standing before you. Only you can see us. It’s the only way we can talk to you now.”