The Twice and Future Caesar (19 page)

Sooner than Romulus expected, he was here. Amid the barrage of new thoughts and images, Romulus knew immediately that he had arrived.

If he hadn't been plugged into patterner mode, he couldn't have followed the events. Everything happened so fast.

He, in his Xerxes, had emerged from the Rim Gate and crushed the flimsy Arran messenger ship.

Romulus was in the Myriad. Now.

Now
was five years in his own past.

To one side of his Xerxes stretched the darkness of open space. To the other, the Myriad star cluster dazzled with the light of three million suns.

Romulus laughed and heard his own laughter echo back at him from the compartment's walls. As predicted, he'd slammed the Arran messenger ship away from the Rim Gate. The first thing he'd needed to do was already done.

He was feeling omnipotent.

He hadn't realized how much doubt he'd been holding in. He shouted for joy, a triumphant “Ha!” He took in great breaths. He was breathing.

“Ha!” He was alive!

“Ha!” He was here!

“Ha!” He was in his own damned past!

Mastery was intoxicating. He shouted to the overhead, as if his voice could carry across the galaxy, “Claudia! I am here!”

She was alive in this time. Far away, but in this existence, alive,
now
. And he could keep her that way. “I AM A GOD!”

He was aware that he'd already changed future history by destroying the Arran messenger. His certainty of coming events would diminish rapidly from now on.

He needed to get things in order here, fast, so he could start the long journey to Near Space, to Palatine and Claudia.

His first priorities were to neutralize Augustus and to take command of the two Legion carriers.

He took a resonant sounding of the immediate stellar vicinity. He sifted what he needed from the crush of data.

First: There was
Merrimack
, nine hours out and closing on the Rim Gate—exactly where she was supposed to be.

But there was something wrong with her. He brought up her image. There were great holes in her physical hull. Only her energy shell was holding her atmosphere in. Her hull looked like—he couldn't believe it—
chewed
. An empty spot gaped under one massive wing. It made her look off balance.
Merrimack
was missing an engine. She was showing five. She should have six.

That damage was not in the historical log.

The damage looked eerily like Hive work. But the Hive shouldn't be here. Not in the year 2443. Not ever.

In Romulus' memory the Hive had never come to the Myriad.

Romulus executed a broader resonant scan. He felt cold even before he sorted out the mashed-up results.

He found the Hive. Sphere upon sphere was converging on the Myriad.

That was wrong. This could not be.

The Hive shouldn't be here. The Hive had never been here!

How could his arrival have changed things so drastically already?
Backward
in time. It wasn't possible. He'd
just
got here.

He told himself that it could be explained. That it didn't matter. To hell with
Merrimack
. Romulus needed to find his Legions. That was an immediate priority.

Where were the Legion carriers? There should be two, closing in on the Myriad.

But the two Roman Legion carriers were not on their historical course. They should be
there
, headed toward the Myriad to challenge
Merrimack
for the star cluster.

And Augustus should be ahead of them, flying point in his Striker.

Augustus was not on his historical vector.

Might Augustus have detected the Xerxes and changed course?

No. Romulus had his Xerxes shrouded in perfect stealth. Augustus in the year 2443 would not be able to detect a Xerxes.

Romulus tried to crush down threatening panic.

He hailed the two Legion carriers on their resonant harmonics. He connected with nothing. In desperation he tried to hail Augustus.

Augustus wasn't just off course. He wasn't here.

Neither were the Legion carriers.

There were another sixty-four Legions out here in the Deep End. Were those off course as well?

Romulus had the harmonics of each of those Legions. He hailed them all.

Silence.

The panic he'd been holding at bay washed over him. Terror such as he had never known. His body vibrated. Sickness welled.

Things were different.

Where were the sixty-four Legions?

He tuned into the Imperial Fleet harmonic, the one that had been in effect on this date in history.

The Fleet harmonic was silent. No one was resonating on it.

They changed the harmonic!

No. No. No
.

The Roman fleet was using different harmonics
and he didn't have them.

There were infinitely many resonant harmonics. He could guess forever and not hit on one. This was a disaster.

And lurking in the back of his consciousness was a worse possibility.

The Legions were not using different harmonics.

The Legions didn't exist.

He trembled on a sudden even worse thought. All gods, was Rome still there?

He was lost in infinity.

He folded over to vomit.

He unplugged from patterner mode.

The moment of panic passed. He breathed deeply, clearing away the storm of wrongness.

He needed to focus on the vital goal.

Claudia. Claudia. Claudia.

Where was Claudia?

He held his breath, dizzy.

He cleaned the sick from his mouth. Steadied his breathing.

He turned off his video and entered Claudia's harmonic in the resonator. He knew that one by heart.

Claudia, if you are not there, I am lost
.

He waited.

The universe paused.

The voice of his goddess in heaven snapped, “Yes?”

Her bedchamber was in view, but she was not in the picture.

Romulus croaked, “Claudia.”

“Yes?” She sounded vexed.

In the long silence a lump thickened in his throat. His eyes misted.

Claudia demanded, “Who is this?”

“Romulus.”

“What's wrong? Where is your video?”

He was intentionally not sending any visuals. “I just needed to hear your voice.”

She laughed, baffled. “You just left! What is
with
you?”

She came into view.

She looked so young, not yet thirty terrestrial years. No fear in her head. His bright bird of paradise, his vain child. He would indulge her every whim. He should have made her empress when she asked. She need never ask.

He pressed his hand over his pounding heart. She was too beautiful.

She had gilded the tips of her eyelashes. They flashed and glinted with her blinks.

“Did I?” he asked.
I just left?
His stupid other self had just been with her. Had left her vexed. “It seems like an eternity.”

She laughed again. “That's very sweet. I forgive you.”

He wondered what that wretched Other—his younger
alter ego
—had done to her to need forgiving.

“Then I can go on living,” he said.

He clicked off. She was alive. His beacon in this darkness.

He scrambled to get his feet under him.

There was so much he didn't know. He needed to get into a current data bank, one with recent history and current events in it. He needed to tap into a military harmonic.

Whose harmonic did he know other than Claudia's?

It came to him in a flash.

Mine!

Of course he had his own old harmonics. Panic had been making him stupid.
Slow down
. Trembling, he entered his old harmonic into the resonator. Immediately his old database came up.

He could breathe again.
Me. My own idiot self. My stupid useless other self.
He needed to learn the state of the universe as it existed now.

He dove into his alter ego's records. They differed from his own memories.

Yes, Rome was still standing. Barely. Rome and the United States were not currently at war. There had been no Subjugation, but Rome was in an unholy alliance with the United States against the Hive. The remains of the mighty Roman military really were under U.S. command.

By any and all gods, how had that atrocity happened?

He had known he would change the future from the instant he arrived. Wholly unexpected were changes to the past.

His arrival had changed events that occurred before he got here.

The true horror in all this was the failure of his omniscience.
Knowledge was power, and he didn't have as much as he thought he did. Things he thought he knew were wrong.

He coughed. Retched.

There was no reason for him to stay a moment longer out here in the Myriad. Augustus was not where he ought to be. The two Roman Legion carriers were not here. And nothing here was vital or strategic—other than the damned Hive.

The center of all power and civilization was in the Orion Starbridge, Near Space, that dense band of stars that spanned the gap between the inner, Sagittarian, arm of the Milky Way's spiral and the outer, Perseid, arm.

Romulus needed to get back to Palatine, the capital world of the Roman Empire, and to Claudia.

The voyage would take him three terrestrial months at threshold velocity.

Merrimack
could get there sooner, only because she could use the Fort Dwight David Eisenhower/Fort Theodore Roosevelt Shotgun to cut thousands of light-years off the journey, and Romulus couldn't.

Displacing through the U.S. Shotgun required precise readings of a vessel and its contents. Romulus could not submit himself or his ship to that kind of scrutiny. Using the Shotgun would place him utterly at the mercy of the U.S. displacement technicians. He couldn't trust them. Small displacement mistakes were fatal. Intentional erasure of an unwanted traveler would be all too easy for the Yanks to do.

Romulus would need to take the slow road home, across the Abyss, the thinly starred darkness between galactic arms.

What of his secret weapon? Did he have that?

The Hive harmonics.

He thought he had the harmonics of the Hives. There were two.

He had just assumed the harmonics were still valid. The harmonics would give him control of the Hives.

Control of the Hives would make him invincible.

Without them—

He couldn't even consider being without them.

He plugged into patterner mode. He hesitated to resonate. What would the Hive make of his contact? His whole universe could turn on this butterfly's wing.

He entered the harmonic of the first Hive into the res chamber, but transmitted nothing. He only listened.

He heard, felt, noise. Almost a monotone. Steady as running water. The resonant life pulse of the Hive. It was vast. It was everywhere at once.

Romulus' contact didn't register in the Hive as an alien presence. Romulus was part of their whole.

He was hungry.

He disconnected. It was an unsettling sensation, being connected to the Hive. The entity spanned galaxies. It existed to feed.

Romulus tried the other harmonic.

The second Hive didn't recognize his otherness either. But now the first Hive noticed him, because he was resonating. He was the enemy.

One Hive did not tolerate the existence of the other Hive. The other Hive knew where Romulus was. Wanted him dead.

A Hive could locate the source of a res pulse. Several swarms of the first Hive were already converging on the Myriad.

And Romulus could harness and redirect all of those swarms whenever he wanted.

I am still a god
.

7 June 2443
U.S. Space Battleship
Merrimack
Globular Cluster IC9870986 a/k/a the Myriad
Sagittarian Space

T
HE
RACE
WAS
OVER
, but
Merrimack
continued out to the edge of the Myriad. There were hours left before she would arrive at the Rim Gate.

It was on the Hamster Watch, ship's night, that the Hive spheres nearest to
Merrimack
inexplicably changed direction.

The Hamster didn't need to wake up the captain. John Farragut wasn't sleeping. Hamster had to summon him off the basketball court.

John Farragut bounded onto the command deck, still carrying the basketball. Passed it to one of the Marine guards at the hatch.

Before Hamster could announce the captain's arrival on deck, Farragut was asking, “What's their new vector, Hamster?”

“The five closest swarms are converging on
us
.”

“And where are we?”

“Still a few hours from the Rim Gate.”

“Are we resonating?”

“Negative resonance since we detonated the Star Sparrow.”

“Then what makes us suddenly so interesting?”

Glenn Hamilton hesitated. “The spheres changed course toward us,
but I'm not sure that means
we
are what's interesting. Something's not right.” She tilted her head in a pose of listening.

Farragut picked up the meaning. “It's quiet.”

She nodded. “It's quiet.”

No Hive sign.

Farragut pulled back the cover from one of the terrariums on the command deck.

Insects became notoriously frantic under Hive resonance. Insects were always the first to announce Hive interest in the ship.

The ant farm was sleeping.

But the Hive spheres had definitely turned toward
Merrimack
, without warning or apparent reason.

“They've learned how to
sneak?
” Glenn Hamilton suggested.

Farragut looked to his IO, who hadn't left the command deck since he'd been sprung from the brig. “Augustus, you're frowning. Speak.”

“I'll speak when I have something to say.”

Augustus didn't speak for another two hours.

Lieutenant Colonel Steele arrived on the command deck at the turn of the watch, as
Merrimack
neared the
kzachin
known as the Rim Gate.

The primitive sublight Arran messenger ship was hurtling away from the
kzachin
from the force of an apparent impact. The Arran was dead flat.

Merrimack
overtook the wreck.

“Get a drone out there,” Farragut ordered. “I want a post mortem on the Arran ship. The Arran ought to be carrying trace molecules of the thing that hit it. Tell me what that thing was.”

The retrieval was done quickly, but the analysis and report were so long in coming that Farragut sent Augustus down to the lab to find the reason for the delay.

Several departments had sifted through the drone's recordings. All the specialists reported negative findings. Jose Maria de Cordillera was with them, as baffled as any of them.

Jose Maria and Augustus returned to the command deck to report in person.

“There is nothing on the Arran wreckage that doesn't belong to the Arran ship,” Augustus said.

“So it had to be an energy beam that struck the Arran,” Farragut said.

“Negative. There's no heat signature. No scoring. No melting. My conclusion—Your people don't like it. They are wrong—is that the Arran
was struck by an inertial field. It's the only thing that doesn't leave a signature.”

“Jose Maria?” Farragut prompted.

“I do not like it. But I have nothing else, young Captain.”

“Well, Augustus, that narrows down our actor to either your people or my people.”

“I'm all the people Rome has out here,” Augustus said. “And my Striker is secure inside your hangar deck. And point of fact, the evidence does not narrow it down to your people or my people. The unidentified force came out of the Rim Gate. We know that the Rim Gate leads to Origin.”

“Origin doesn't have that kind of technology,” Farragut said. “Donner's home world doesn't have heavy elements. Origin doesn't have FTL capability. There's something else out there. I need to know what it is and whether it will be gunning for my boat next.”

Augustus was already shaking his head. “I've been through all the input.” He looked drained and ill as he always did when coming down from patterner mode. “I can't find the pattern in that heap.”

“You honestly have no idea?”

“I have ideas. They're all trash.” Augustus looked deathly. “I'll tell you how messed up I am right now. Your idea about a time traveler coming out this gate from the future instead of from the past is starting to sound plausible.”

Augustus suddenly squinted, pinching the bridge of his nose, as if trying to hold his brains in. He said like a postscript, “You have a shadow.”

“A what?”

“A dark thing following you. Look for a powered object in
Merrimack
's wake. It's resonating. Find it nine meters behind the outer edge of
Merrimack
's inertial shell, straight back in line from the vent.”

Farragut turned to his XO. “Calli, find the shadow. What's out there?”

Tactical reported, “Negative readings. Negative presence.”

“Negative prox alarm,” Farragut noted.

“Something is there,” Augustus said. “In complete stealth.”

Farragut: “What
is
it?”

Augustus: “Don't know.”

“Then how did you know it's there?”

“Because the Hive knows it's there. The nearest Hive swarms are converging on a point nine meters aft of
Merrimack
, not at a point inside the
Merrimack
. That's why your ship's telltales are silent, John Farragut.”

That much was true. There was no Hive sign. The ants in their terrarium stayed snug in their holes.

“The Hive swarms are not converging on your ship. They're converging on your shadow.”

“And what is my shadow?”

“Not a friend of yours.”

Targeting offered, “Astronomically speaking there's an infinitesimal difference between the ship and a point nine meters behind the ship.”

“It's a critical difference,” Augustus said.

Farragut shook his head, baffled. “Why would the Hive target a point nine meters behind my
Merrimack
?”

“My guess is—and my guesses carry weight—you will find a powered vessel traveling nine meters behind this ship, transmitting a harmonic more interesting to the Hive than anything else. Whatever it's sending is irresistible to gorgons. There are five Hive spheres focused on that point, to the exclusion of all closer targets. The Hive is pursuing your shadow with a special anger.”

“Do we know anything about this—” Farragut was not sure what to call this. “—irresistible harmonic?”

“No.”

“Then how do you know something is resonating at all?”

“Pay attention. Because of where the Hive spheres are focused.”

Farragut told his XO, “Get the Wraith back in the saddle. Up here, on deck.”

The ship's drone wrangler was a young vee jock named Raytheon. Everyone called him Wraith.

Wraith reported to the command deck like a tall, skinny, awkward, pasty white mole dragged from its burrow. He carried his vee helmet under his bony arm. He was given a station next to Tactical. Wraith cast nervous glances back to Augustus, who lurked behind Wraith's station.

Wraith received his orders directly from the captain. “Mister Raytheon, I need you to collect a stealth object out there.”

Wraith's prominent Adam's apple made a long bob. “Sir? How can I collect the stealth object? I can't detect it.”

“Colonel Augustus will tell you where to go.”

The Adam's apple yo-yoed. “Aye, sir,” Wraith whispered.

Colonel Augustus was plugging into patterner mode. The towering
Roman looked like a grave monument but less cheerful, his haggard face gone slack, black eyes empty.

Even with floodlights, radar, and lidar, nothing showed behind
Merrimack
other than the Wraith's drone. Wraith drove the drone where Augustus guided him.

Augustus used the Hive spheres' infinitesimal changes in vectors to direct Wraith's drone to the exact point of the stealth vessel.

Wraith reached out a wide mechanical claw to the specified point.

Squawked. Astonished to actually close his claw on a solid object. “I got something!” Wraith cried. “I mean, target secured!” He still couldn't detect what he had except by the pressure of the claw's grip.

“Good job! Hold fast, Wraith!” Farragut looked to Augustus. “Merry Christmas!”

Augustus yanked out all his cable connections. Scowled at Farragut. “It's not a gift. Someone tied a raw steak to your leg while you were swimming in shark-infested waters.”

“But it's what I need. Someone just gave me a way to lure the Hive away from the planets! Wraith! Pull the thing's res chamber. Read off the harmonic.”

Even as he said it, the transmission from the drone went dark and Wraith gave a startled jerk. He lifted his visor.

Farragut: “What just happened?”

Wraith: “The stealth object destructed. It took out my drone with it. There it goes.” Wraith pointed at the enhanced image on the Tactical monitor which showed small pieces of wreckage flying in all directions.

“Helping you was not the intent,” Augustus told Farragut.

“Mister Raytheon, get another drone out there. Pick up all the pieces of the shadow vessel.”

Several drones were dispatched to collect the debris. There was nothing stealthy about the exploded bits, but they required chasing. The explosion had scattered the pieces wide, and there was nothing out there to slow them down.

“Mister Raytheon, can you salvage the shadow vessel's res chamber?”

“Not a chance, sir.”

“I have a patterner,” Farragut said. “Just find me the pieces of the res chamber.”

“I
got
the res chamber, sir,” Wraith said. “It's a solid melted glob. And
I got one big piece of the carrier vessel. Here, this piece has a Pacific Consortium mark.”

Wraith positioned a robotic claw to present the “big piece” for viewing on the Tactical monitor. The big piece was one centimeter long.

Enlarged, the broken bit clearly showed the Trademark kiwi wearing a bubble helmet—the Pacific Consortium's mark.

“Dead last thing I ever expected,” Farragut said, eyebrows lifted toward the overhead.

Calli leaned in toward the image. She looked betrayed. “I had no idea the Pacifics had any presence out this way at all. Much less planting bait on a U.S. battleship during a galactic crisis.”

Farragut worked up to a full roar. “Get me the embassy! No, get me someone to shoot at! If I had the power to declare war, I would.”

Wraith was squinting, reading the markings from another shard from the scattered remains. “Patent registered in 2446. That explains that.”

It made everything clear as squid ink.

Calli Carmel blinked several times. “Today is June the seventh, 2443,” she said, not sounding too confident about it.

“Yes, sir. Last I looked, sir,” Wraith said. He heard himself sounding disrespectful and stammered, “Sir.”

Farragut leaned toward the display. “This thing was made in the future? You're not serious.”

Wraith didn't know if that was a real question. He couldn't talk anyway.

Augustus said, “It does seem someone is having conjugal relations with your head. Just because a thing has a date on it doesn't mean it's actually from that year. I wouldn't declare war on the Kiwis just yet.”

“You mean they were
framed?
” Calli said.

Augustus shook his head slowly as if it hurt to move. “As frame-ups go, this is tenuous. It assumes we were meant to find that piece of debris. I don't believe we were.”

“Then what? What was the intent?” Farragut asked.

“In this case, I'm inclined to follow my idiot's original thought.”

Augustus' idiot? “Me,” Farragut said. “You've come over to my side.”

Augustus nodded. “When you've eliminated the possible, you're either missing a fact or you've misinterpreted the evidence.
That
is a real patent date.”

Farragut was just absorbing the shock when Tactical sang out, “Hive spheres have changed course.”

“Where? When?”

Tactical: “They changed the moment the stealth object destructed. It wasn't obvious right away. At these distances the angular differences are next to nothing. But it's definite. I confirmed it twice.”

“Where are the spheres headed now?”

“Back the way they were. Toward the nearest inhabited planets.”