The Twice and Future Caesar (35 page)

As the firstborn walked up the front steps to the deep front porch, he heard a sullen adolescent male voice from inside.

“Oh, joy. The hero of Eta Cas is among us.”

That was followed by Mama's quick scold, “John John!”

Captain Farragut inwardly winced. They still called his younger brother John John. The sound of it had always grated. John Alexander Farragut didn't think it was right somehow. It was belittling.

But he was not going to fly in here and drop a lot of opinions and leave Mama to clean up the wreckage. Captain Farragut kept his observations to himself. He called the young man “John,” then walked into his mother's teary, breathy embrace.

Farraguts from all over swarmed into the old Kentucky home. There were twenty brothers and sisters, a flock of nieces and nephews, and seven years' worth of hugging and crying to fit into a short time.

There was a lull in the Hive activity in the Eastern U.S. for the moment. The Marines had cleared away most of the gorgons from the region. The outbreaks were elsewhere. It wouldn't stay that way. This was only a small space in which to breathe.

In which to finally come home.

An inner archway darkened.

His father.

A frozen moment Captain Farragut had been dreading. He was never sure how this would go. The frozen moment broke. His Honor stomped into the front room with wide-flung arms and a booming how the hell are you, boy! A whomp on the back. A firm hearty shake of his hand. Proud. So proud.

His Honor motioned in the direction of the quiet skies. “You run them out?”

“No, sir. Not yet.”

His Honor guided Captain Farragut out of the parlor under a heavy arm. Out of Mama's earshot His Honor said, “Sugar's for your mama. Give me the straight story.”

“It's Armageddon,” said John Alexander Farragut.

The old man nodded gravely, absorbing that. “We gonna win?”

“If I have anything to say about it. And I do.”

“Good man,” His Honor said.

Captain John Alexander Farragut found his younger brother, John Junior, packing for a journey.

“You're leaving,” Captain Farragut said, surprised.

John Knox Farragut Junior didn't look at his famous brother. “I've learned that the way to get respect around here is not to be here for years on end.”

“Where are you going?” Captain Farragut asked, reproach in his voice. “Mama needs you.”

“I'm enlisting.”

“You're too young.”

“Not for a Roman Legion, I'm not.”

Crack!

Before he knew what he was doing Captain John Alexander Farragut had hauled off and decked his brother. Remorse was immediate. “Oh, for Jesus. I'm sorry.”

He was more than sorry. He was horrified.
I just turned into our father
.

“I never wanted to be that, John.”

The words drew a hard smile from John Junior. John John spoke with soft wrath. “You don't need to
be
at all.” And he pulled a revolver from behind his back.

With only half a heartbeat to be startled, John Alexander Farragut batted the gun aside, doubled his brother over with a blow to the middle, and stepped on his wrist. He picked up the revolver.

He left John John gasping on the carpet.

Captain Farragut took the revolver out with him. He stalked into the front parlor and informed their father, “I'm going. Keep your blades sharp. It's still the only thing that works against the gorgons. I'll see that you get better top cover here. This shouldn't've happened.” He nodded out the window where gorgon scars were visible in the century oaks.

He didn't mention John John pulling a gun on him. Captain Farragut had called his younger brother's bluff. Called it hard. The incident was done. No point shaming the young man over a stupid flash of teenaged temper.

From His Honor, Captain John Alexander Farragut got a great thumping bear hug. He was the firstborn, the captain, the hero. Always and ever the favorite.

John Knox Farragut Junior pulled himself off the floor. When he got his breath back, he stumbled out the back door and stalked up the six-mile-long driveway, past all the century oaks, past the wide horse pastures, toward the front gate of the Farragut estate.

The number of John Farraguts back in that house had reached critical mass. It was impossible to breathe in there. John John felt himself diminishing into nothingness.

He marched, jetting breaths through his nostrils like an angry bull. Brittle fallen leaves crunched underfoot. He didn't know what he was going to do. He'd left his bag behind. He'd left everything.

He wondered how long it would be before anyone noticed he was gone. Would anyone notice? Ever?

He heard the Swift roar to life. He flattened himself against a stout tree trunk to stay out of view. And he didn't want to see it if John did a roll in his Swift over the house.

He didn't know if he'd been completely serious when he said he was joining a Roman Legion. It wasn't the worst idea he'd ever had. America really was a Roman colony, so his thoughts weren't actually treasonous. Romulus had invited him to join the Empire two months ago when he had visited the house.

John Knox Farragut Junior had studied history. He knew about the founding of America, the parts they didn't teach in U.S. schools—that Christopher Columbus and Amerigo Vespucci were Romans. That Thomas Jefferson was a Roman traitor. That the province of America belonged to its Roman founders.

The United States, the nation his father stood for, was in the wrong.

Truths you uncover for yourself are more powerful than what you are hand fed in school. Secrets held power.

The mottos of twenty-five U.S. states and the District of Columbia were in Latin.

America rightfully belonged to Rome. It was a revelation.

Rome never really fell. Rome had gone underground and persisted as a secret society for centuries. It lived in the Catholic Church until Vatican II. The fall of the church was a serious setback. But secret Rome still had
a grip on law and the sciences, especially medicine—any discipline conducted in Latin, the language of the Empire.

With the advent of the Internet at the end of the twentieth century, the widely scattered Roman sects regrouped. Latin returned to American schools.

The Internet exploded with sites on which Romans could converse, hiding in plain sight. Loyal Romans were taken for historical reenactors.

At the dawn of the FTL era, an American-based intellectual community founded the planetary colony Palatine in the Lambda Coronae Australis star system. And in the year 2290, Rome revealed herself and declared independence from the United States of America.

The new Rome fought a war of secession against the U.S. and won.

Palatine flourished. The new Rome engaged in a continuing race with its mother world to colonize hospitable planets. The Roman Empire now spread across one sixth of the Milky Way. There would be no reining Rome back in.

The best the U.S. could do was to keep her own independence and colonize more worlds, spreading her presence as wide as Rome's.

All the while, it was Rome's vision and destiny to recapture her birthplace, the terrestrial city of Rome, and to bring her most successful colony, America, under her rule.

Given that America was founded as a Roman colony, what was so terribly wrong with the idea of his joining a Roman Legion? Rome was united for a higher purpose than America's self-serving individualism. John's famous brother had no right to hit him for wanting to be part of something greater.

And there was no evidence that Romulus was sending gorgons to Earth.

John Knox Farragut Junior had come to the end of the eternal driveway of his father's estate.

The elaborate front gates parted at his command.

John stalked out to the country road.

The gates hadn't even closed behind him when a transport dropped straight down from the sky like an elevator without a shaft. A hatch opened.

John Knox Farragut Junior opened his mouth. He meant to say something.

Then there was nothing.

22 November 2443
Romulid Government in Exile
Beta Centauri
Near Space

J
OHN
K
NOX
F
ARRAGUT
J
UNIOR
wasn't where he had been a heartbeat ago. In fact, a heartbeat was too long a measure of time to describe what he'd just experienced. Clearly, time had passed, but he hadn't sensed any of it. In one moment, he'd been outside the gate to his father's estate, and now, instantly, he wasn't. A chunk of reality in between then and now was gone.

The chamber was grand, gilt, and ornate, overdone in an Italian Renaissance style. The night sky showed through the skylight in the high, vaulted ceiling. John John recognized a constellation up there—the familiar W of Cassiopeia. But the constellation was wrong. Cassiopeia had her cat at her knee. Cassiopeia's Cat was a star that didn't belong to Cassiopeia when viewed from Earth—because the star known as Cassiopeia's Cat was Earth's star, Sol.

John John wasn't on Earth anymore. He could see Sol in the constellation of Cassiopeia. That meant he was in the Centauri star system.

He had fallen down a very long rabbit hole.

He turned to find someone else with him in the ornate chamber.

This place could only be the Italian embassy on Beta Centauri, because
that
was Caesar Romulus.

Romulus was a physically beautiful human being, lean, athletic. He was dressed all in black here. His shirt had full sleeves and a high collar. A gilded oak leaf crown wreathed his dark curls.

John Junior stared, astonished to be here, alone in presence of the Imperator.

No doubt there would be failsafes in place to insure Romulus' security, but John John wasn't feeling violent. He kept a civilized voice. “You kidnapped me.”

“If you don't wish to be here, I can deliver you back to one of the other John Farraguts.”

That stung. Before John John could speak, Romulus went on. “You are a valuable, underappreciated man, squandered in your current circumstance. I want you in my Empire.”

John John's heart swelled, then collapsed in suspicion.
I'm being used to get to my father and my brother
. He wanted to believe this fairy tale too badly.

He answered in Latin. “Is it your empire,
domni
? I was led to believe that you are mad.”

“I have been imprisoned under the most violent torture you can imagine, so, yes, I suppose I was mad for that time. It was a temporary condition, not a character trait. I am well now. I am sane. Ask your other question.”

John John wondered if the man was reading his mind. “Do you actually think you're a god?” As soon as the question was out, John John winced. He wanted it back.

But it made Romulus smile. “Between you and me? Not exactly.

“But a galactic empire needs a god. So it shall have one. The unimaginable enormity of the thing demands it. You cannot have a fallible human being at the helm of an entity this vast without factions of every colony challenging every decision the man makes—from what tax he decides to cut to the color of his first lady's dress—as happens in our American colony. People need certainty.

“See how the pretender Numa Pompeii, who styles himself Caesar, struggles for respect. Half measures get one nowhere but cut in half. So I am a god. And you want to be part of something greater than yourself. I want you in my inner circle.”

John John wanted to believe this too badly. Common sense told him
he was being used to get at his father and his brother. “Why me? Because I'm a Farragut?”

“Because you are a being of great worth. I value you. Your devotion, once earned, is unshakable.” He sounded absolutely certain, wholly sincere.

John John stammered, bewildered. “It is. But how can you possibly know that about me?”

“I do know. Did I not tell you? I have seen your heart, and it is Roman.”

Romulus had told him so, at his father's house. Two months ago.

John John felt something moving inside him, a yearning to belong. Here was recognition of his potential by an astonishing, powerful leader.

“I am sending you to join a Legion.” Romulus wasn't even asking him. He was telling John John what was to be.

“A Legion?” John John blurted. “You have a Legion?”

“Multiple Legions. Of course I have. How does one maintain an empire without Legions? Don't believe the propaganda coming out of our province of America. You will receive training in your Legion. Kneel.”

There was no room for indecision here. John Knox Farragut Junior had been raised to know that a burning bush has no patience. A leap of faith was required. Uncertainty be damned. And he really had nowhere else to go. He knelt.

Romulus' voice sounded above his head. “From this day forward, be no longer John Knox Farragut Junior. Your name shall be Nox. Nox without the K. Nox as in Night. Your
gens
, your
familia
, shall be mine. I adopt you.

“Rise, Nox Romulus.”

18 December 2443
U.S. Space Battleship
Merrimack
Earth orbit
Near Space

The com tech turned from his console, startled. “Captain. Call from Senator Catherine Mays in Washington.”

“Put her on my box.”

“You have the Senator, sir.”

Captain Farragut spoke into the com, brightly. “Cat!”

His sister's voice came back. Not brightly. “John! What the hell!”

“What?”

“John John!”

“John—?” Captain Farragut felt like he'd stepped out an air lock. Lost. “What about him? Talk to me, Cat. Use verbs. Is John hurt?”

Captain Farragut hadn't thought he'd hit his kid brother quite that hard. He was going to be sick if he'd done him real harm.

“The State Department informed me that John John
renounced his U.S. citizenship!
What the hell happened?”

Cat didn't normally invoke hell, much. It was in order here.

“I—Well, I hit him,” Captain Farragut confessed. He left out the part where young John drew a pistol on him first.

“Nobody renounces his citizenship because his big brother hits him!” Cat said. “What's going on!”

“Is it a done deed? I thought it took a while to process those things. Expatriation takes weeks. Months.”

“John John told the consulate on Beta Centauri when he made his renunciation that he's not bound to fill out any more forms or jump through any more U.S. hoops. He doesn't recognize U.S. sovereignty. He's sworn to Rome and
Rome recognized him
.”

“Rome did? Rome can't. Rome needs to follow procedures. Where's Numa? I can hash this out with Numa.”

“John John didn't swear to Numa Pompeii,” Catherine said. “He swore to Romulus.”

Oh, for Jesus
.

25 January 2444
Centauri star system
Near Space

Caesar Numa's Praetorian Guard sublighted in the Centauri star system. The Praetorian Legion carrier descended straight down on the Italian embassy and hovered there, poised to crush it.

Numa demanded that the Italian embassy give up the traitor Romulus to Rome immediately.

But Romulus was not in the Italian embassy. Romulus wasn't in
Centauri space at all. He had disappeared and taken his eagles and his red, black, and gold flag with him.

25 January 2444
U.S. Space Battleship
Merrimack
Earth orbit
Near Space

Captain Farragut shouted at the tactical display. “Where is that weasel?!
He has my brother!
”

He knew as well as anyone that until Romulus came down from FTL and dropped his stealth mode, there could be no knowing where Romulus was.

Farragut's pounding footfalls shook the deck grates as he paced the command platform. “What is Romulus' end game? Augustus?”

Augustus stood in maddening calm, his gaze distant. He might have been watching a sunset. “I cannot pattern a madman. He is subject to misfire. Mister Carmel is your expert on things Romulus. I suggest you consult her.”

Calli's head turned sharply.

Commander Calli Carmel had attended the Imperial Military Institute with Romulus and Claudia during the peace.

“I can't ‘pattern' a crazy man either. How can Romulus possibly think to do anything without troops? No one can lead Rome without an army.”

“Then he has an army,” said Augustus.

Farragut came to an abrupt stop as if he'd hit a wall. “
Does
he?”

“He must,” said Augustus.

Calli gasped. Her eyes rounded. “He must,
ergo
he
does
.”

“Since Romulus is from the future—oh, close your mouth, John Farragut—Romulus came from the future. He will have a whole catalog of people he knows will serve him in the future. He knows where to find those people
now
.”

More gorgons displaced into the Solar System and found their way to Earth in damaged masses. The U.S. Fleet Marines flew round the clock patrols, trying to keep the monsters from making landfall. The gorgons
were becoming skilled at avoiding
Merrimack
and anything the ground batteries threw at them. Many got through.

Earth was the only Near Space world under Hive attack. None of the United States' Near Space colonies were under gorgon siege.

Two hundred light-years from Earth, Palatine, the capital world of the Roman Empire, was not under Hive attack.

None of Rome's many colonial worlds were under siege, and Rome had almost as many colonies as the U.S.

None of the League of Earth Nations' Near Space colonies showed Hive sign. It could only be that the Hive hadn't identified the other worlds as food sources yet.

Merrimack
's withdrawal from the Deep End had left no U.S. military units in the Sagittarius arm of the galaxy. Even the LEN expedition was pulling out of the Myriad and heading home.

The Deep End and the galactic hub now belonged to the Hive.

In the opposite direction—out toward the Perseid arm of the galaxy—there was no Hive presence at all. The Hive hadn't arrived in Perseid space yet. It would take the Hive swarms centuries or even millennia to make that journey.

First, the gorgons would eat their way through Palatine, Earth, and all the planets of Near Space.

Distant Perseid space had been colonized mostly by countries from Earth's Pacific region. The Pacifics had constructed the massive displacement facility called the Boomerang to provide instantaneous travel between Port Chalai in Near Space and Port Campbell in Perseid space. But the Pacific colonies hadn't any trained troops or warships to send home to defend Earth against the Hive. The Pacifics had no enemies.

31 January 2444
U.S. Space Battleship
Merrimack
Earth orbit
Near Space

Lieutenant Glenn Hamilton, Officer of the Deck on the middle watch, woke up the captain.

“Message from the Admiralty. Port Chalai has fallen to hostile forces.”

The captain's fast clanging footfalls sounded on the ladder rungs between decks.

“Captain on deck.” The Marine guard announced Farragut as he charged onto the command platform demanding, “What do we know?”

Lieutenant Hamilton moved out of his way. “Hostile forces simultaneously occupied Port Chalai in Near Space and Port Campbell in Perseid Space. They've taken control of the Boomerang.”

“Who are ‘they?'”

“Waiting confirmation, sir, but they're Romulus' forces.”

The port authorities hadn't even had time to get out an SOS. By the time the alert reached Earth, the takeover was done. Images streamed of Romulus' red, black, and gold flags posted on all the space stations in both ports.

Neither Port Chalai in Near Space nor Port Campbell in Perseid Space was a military installation. Both ports were Pacific Rim trading settlements, made up of many peaceful and prosperous space stations.

The Boomerang reduced months of FTL travel between galactic arms into a single instant. Control of the Boomerang would give Romulus a chokehold on all traffic between Near Space and the outer arm of the galaxy.