Muses of Terra (Codex Antonius Book 2) (19 page)

Cordus laughed. “You’re suggesting a
quid pro quo
? I thought Umbra had a little policy against that.”

She opened her mouth, but closed it again and turned her eyes away.

“That’s what I thought,” he said. “Until you can tell me your secrets, then Pluto will hear my secrets before you do.”

He tossed the towel at the foot of the locker and left Cargo Two. He wondered why he was suddenly so angry with her. Was it that she had beaten him in sparring when only Kaeso could do so? Or that she knew who he was, yet she would not tell him anything about herself?
 

Or the fact he couldn’t string two thoughts together in her presence?

20

Cordus stalked through the corridor to the medical hatch, still musing on what to do about Aquilina. He’d been so lost in thought that Ulpius startled him at the entry to the medical hatch.
 

“The wound is stabilized,” Ulpius said, “so the thing now is to get his blood back up. Just finished another round of synth-blood, but he needs a real hospital with real surgeons.”

Cordus looked in at Blaesus, who lay on the bunk in the corner shirtless and with a white bandage wrapped around his mid-section. He looked frail and his skin was gray, but his eyes were open, and he smiled weakly when he saw Cordus.

“Don’t let this pleb talk you into dropping me off on some backwater planet,” Blaesus croaked. “You’re going after the Centuriae, and that takes precedence.”

Ulpius shook his head. “Is he always such a cranky bastard?”

“Only when he’s feeling better,” Cordus said, grinning. Then to Blaesus, “Whatever we do,
you
are going to stay right here. We’ll get you to a hospital once we have Kaeso and Ocella.”
 

Blaesus nodded. “Good,” he said. He seemed to have used up all his energy, for he eased his head back onto his pillow and closed his eyes.

Ulpius glared at Cordus, then motioned him outside the hatch. “A word.”

They exited the medical hatch, and Ulpius closed it behind him.

“If you don’t get him to a hospital, he will die.”

Cordus frowned. “How long?”

“Could be minutes, could be days. Depends on the gods, I’d say.”

Cordus sighed, staring at the medical hatch. One of his mentors was fighting for his life, while his
de facto
parents fought for theirs. “We have no time for side trips. We’ll have to trust the gods aren’t ready for him yet.”

Cordus went to leave, but Ulpius grabbed his arm in a grip that demonstrated his years of Legion service. “I don’t think you understand, Centuriae,” Ulpius growled. “You being Liberti and all, I don’t expect you to give a wit about a Roman, but I do. He will die unless he’s seen by a real medicus, and soon.”

Without turning, Cordus said, “Release me, Centurion.”

Ulpius held on a moment, but then released Cordus’s arm.
 

Cordus turned to face Ulpius. “Gaius Octavius Blaesus means more to me than you will ever know,” Cordus said in his own growl. “And I know full well his blood is on my hands if he dies here. Do your best, centurion.”

Ulpius scowled, then turned and went back into the medical hatch.
 

“He’s insubordinate,” Marcus Antonius said from behind Cordus. “You’re within your rights as centuriae to shoot him dead.”

Cordus turned quickly and strode toward Marcus. Before the Muse image could move, Cordus walked right through him. He was disappointed that it felt like walking through a holo. He had hoped for a cry of surprise from Marcus or a tingling sensation. Something.
 

Instead, Marcus just grunted in amusement. “We’re just an image in your mind, boy, remember?”

I’m trying not to.

“You should kill the girl, too.”

Cordus stopped.
Why?

“She’s trouble.”

She’s Umbra.

“It’s not just that. There’s something about her, something that makes us think she’s pretending to be something she’s not.”

Cordus turned around.
So she’s
not
Umbra?

Marcus shrugged his armored shoulders. “She seems Umbra, but…you should spend more time with her. It will give us more of an opportunity to observe her. That shouldn’t be much of a hardship for you.”

Cordus turned and strode back down the corridor. He knew his fumbling words around Aquilina made it obvious to any sentient human being that he was attracted to her. He hated being so transparent. He especially hated being mocked for it by Marcus.

He was about to climb the ladder to the command deck when Dariya called from the level below. “Centuriae.”

Dariya was looking up at him, the muscles around her jaw twitching as she clenched them. Something was wrong.

Cordus climbed down the ladder. “What is it?”

She waited until he was all the way down, then nodded toward the engine room. She entered the engine room without waiting for him to follow. Inside, Daryush was tapping at the engine tabulari, then turned around as they entered. Cordus had no idea how the big man knew they’d arrived, for the deep hum of the engines seemed to mask all but the loudest and harshest noises.

“‘Ush, watch the door, will you?” Dariya said. Daryush nodded, then walked over to the door and leaned against the wall outside with his arms folded. He tried to wear a menacing look. His first instinct was to avoid conflict at all costs, so over the years he figured out that looking as mean as possible was the best way to avoid a fight.

“You’re making me nervous, Dariya,” Cordus said in a tone just audible above the engine hum.
 

“You should be,” Dariya said as she tapped her tabulari. She stepped aside and then pointed at the display. “I found this an hour ago while I was searching our archives for tactics on how to use that crazy energy shield the Saturnists installed on my girl. I figured we may need it soon.”

“Good thinking,” Cordus said. He scanned the com diagnostics and they all looked normal to him. “You’d better tell me what I’m looking for, or we’ll be here all day.”

Dariya gave him an approving glance. “You admit your ignorance like Kaeso. I like that.”
 

She tapped the icon that showed the archives. The display expanded, and Cordus saw the system was operating normally. Except…

Cordus froze.
 

Someone had been searching through
Vacuna’s
log regarding its trip to Menota six years ago and the Muse archives it had found. That archive was locked, and only the ship’s Centuriae could access it. The archive had been opened eight hours ago, and Cordus had not done it.

He looked at Dariya.

“Right,” she said. “Somebody on this ship is a snoop.”

“How? Only the centuriae can authorize access, and I sure as Juno did not.” Cordus studied the display.
 

“I have spent the last hour searching the tabulari. All I can see is that the archive was opened last night, but there is no identification stamp. Whoever did this knew how to cover themselves.” Dariya leveled her eyes at Cordus. “Seems to me there is only one person on the ship who would have those skills…”

Cordus stared at the archive readouts. It didn’t make sense for Aquilina to do this. Umbra knew what
Vacuna
found on Menota. Perhaps they had not made that information available to her and she wanted it out of personal curiosity? If she was that curious, why wouldn’t she simply ask him for the information?
 

Cordus shook his head. “That doesn’t mean Aquilina did this. We have four other Romans on this ship who we know nothing about. Besides, if Aquilina was smart enough to get into our archives, seems to me she’d be smart enough to cover her tracks better.”

“She—er, whoever did this covered themselves well. Simply erasing the identity stamp takes skills. But to erase all access traces would require a system restart, and that would have drawn our attention quick.” She tapped the tabulari and closed the archive. “So what are your orders, Centuriae?”

Cordus gave her a sideways glare. “You ask as that as if you’re glad you’re not me.”

Dariya grinned.

“Can you set a trap to let us know if it’s accessed again?”

“Already have. The spy will not gain access without setting off every alarm on the ship.”

“Good. Keep me posted on any other unauthorized system access.”

Dariya nodded, and Cordus left the engine room. Daryush gave him a questioning look, and Cordus said, “All clear, big man?”

He gave Cordus an upturned thumb, and then returned to the engine room.

“There’s a simple way to deal with this,” Marcus Antonius said from behind Cordus.
 

Cordus turned to his ancestor. “I’m not going to shoot them all.”

Marcus snorted. “No, no. Too messy. Just gather them in Cargo One and open the air lock. Quick and clean.”

Cordus began climbing the ladder to the command deck. Marcus called from below, “You’ll need a harder spine if you hope to rule one day, boy.”

Cordus stopped climbing, but kept his eyes fixed on the command deck above.
I will die before I accept that destiny.
 

He continued climbing. Marcus was silent, but Cordus could somehow sense the Muse image smiling.

21

Bells chimed softly behind Ocella as she sat in a red, gold-trimmed couch on a covered patio before a calm, clear sea. The sky was blue, and the bright Liberti sun warmed the white sands around her. She held an infant to her breast, and she hummed a soft Roman lullaby to the child. She pulled back the white blanket covering the infant boy’s dark hair, and she gently stroked his head.
 

“Cordus,” she whispered with a smile. The baby’s eyes opened, full of innocence.
 

Ocella’s eyes sprang open when their cell door irised. The video wall above her illuminated the Lucia-golem in the opening. Kaeso had already risen from the gel bed where he’d been laying next to Ocella.

“You may explore,” the Lucia-golem announced, and then left the room. The door did not shut behind her.

Varo rose from the gel bed beside them. “Is it serious?”

Ocella glanced at Kaeso, who looked back at her with a frown. “Are you all right?” he asked.

“Yes, why?”

“You’ve been crying.”

Ocella felt her wet cheeks, and then wiped away the tear streaks. “I’m fine.” She stood up from the gel bed, blinking away the tears and focusing on the opening. “Should we leave before it closes the door again?”

Kaeso scratched his stubbly chin. “I hate doing what it wants.”

Varo approached the open door. “Well I hate sitting here. With all due respect, Centuriae Amelius, we’ve been locked in this cell days longer than you. I can’t speak for Centuriae Licinius, but I need to get out of here.”

Kaeso looked at Ocella again, and she shrugged. “They can do whatever they want to us locked in here,” she said. “I don’t see how exploring makes things worse.”

He grunted. “Things can always get worse.”

“Where’s the optimistic Kaeso I once knew?”

“There’s a difference between optimism and common sense.” He motioned toward the opening. “After you, Centuriae.”

Ocella strode toward the door and after Varo, who had already left the room. She stopped just outside the door and stared in shock. The walls were no longer black with blue glowing veins. The whole corridor now looked like the interior of a human-built starship.
 

Vacuna
, to be precise.

 
Kaeso sucked in a breath behind her. She followed his haunted gaze as it swept the corridor, right to left. From what she could see in the meager light, the corridor stretched in both directions until the ends became a faint point on the murky horizon. It must have gone on for a mile each way.

“Well this is different,” Varo remarked.
 

“They’re using Lucia’s memories,” Ocella said. “They re-fashioned this part of the vessel to look like
Vacuna
. Why?”

Kaeso walked to the closed hatch across from their cell. He tapped the lock pad to the right of the hatch, but it did not open. An “access denied” message scrolled across the pad’s display. He then went to the next hatch to the left, about ten paces down the hall. It also gave him an “access denied” message.
 

Varo tried several hatches down the hall to the right, but got the same results. “Great,” Varo said, walking back to Ocella and Kaeso. “We trade a one-room cell for a really long one.”

“Maybe this is where they’ll put all the ‘witnesses’ they keep talking about,” Ocella said.
 

Kaeso finally said, “No, they want our reactions to all this. The Liberti Muses traded their wisdom and technology for experiences. Experiences are their currency, food, and religion all rolled into one. The Terran strain was the same, and the Menota. It’s the one thing they all had in common. This strain is no different.”

Ocella looked up and down the endless corridor. “They want us to explore, to gain new experiences.” She gave a mirthless chuckle. “They were just as bored watching us in the cell as we were sitting there.”
 

Kaeso nodded. “Let’s assume it’s true that they want us to experience all this. Soon they’ll think we’ve had enough and will want to make a withdrawal.”

Ocella shuddered. She wondered what they had done to Lucia’s body to create the golem and extract her memories.
 

Careful, Ancile. Those thoughts lead to panic.

She still thought of herself as an Ancile, even though she’d left Umbra six years ago. The Umbra training changed her forever, as it was meant to, and she doubted she’d ever think of herself as anything other than an Ancile.
 

Albeit one that betrayed and shattered the order.

Varo looked between Ocella and Kaeso. “I can’t stay in that room any longer.”

Ocella felt the same. The cell was like a sarcophagus to her even though it was three dozen paces—she’d counted—from one end to the other.