The Trumpets of Mars (Imperium #2) - Chapter 6

The Northern Road

They were a day out of town and making good progress, especially for this number of men on foot. He was far behind the progress he’d made on his last trip north, but that had been done in a panic and ended with several mounts being ridden to death.

Although most of the time riding at the head of the column of men had been spent going over the never-ending flow of documents Sophus supplied him with covering history, inventions, and tactics, he also spent time thinking about Lucilla and their last moment together before they’d left Devnum.

He’d decided that he wasn’t going to have his men set up a large command tent like they did when he traveled with the legions. That might have been standard among the Romans and seen as strange for their leader to somehow debase himself by sleeping as the common men. Among the Caledonii, the reverse was true.

Part of the goal of having all of these men travel south with him and bringing a portion of them back north was so they could spread the word about Rome, its people, and hopefully dispel some of the preconceived notions their countrymen might have. Ramirus, who was better at this kind of thing than Ky was, had said the hardest thing to getting disparate people to come together was getting them to see each other as actual people and not some kind of 'other' that they could graft all of their fears onto. He’d also said that the best way to get around this was by getting the people to intermix as much as possible, since familiarity was the only true way to bridge that gap. It was hard to see someone as a faceless 'other' once they’d met them face to face.

So instead of a large tent with a bed and carpets and braziers for fires to keep him warm at night, Ky was sleeping on the ground mixed in with the other leaders the Caledonii had selected for themselves. That, in of itself, wouldn’t bother Ky. The nanobots in his system were capable of regulating his temperature to some degree and he’d slept in equally uncomfortable places over the years, so he wasn’t worried about his own comfort. The main problem was the Caledonii liked to drink and be social, staying late into the night singing songs and telling stories of their bravest deeds, which made it difficult for Ky to contact Lucilla for updates, and to just hear her voice, before it got too late.

Tonight, he made the excuse of making the rounds of the men, during which he could spend some time circling the camps and not interacting directly, allowing him to focus on a conversation with her. He knew as time wore on, especially once they were with larger groups of the north men, he’d have to come up with better excuses to carve out time for these calls. Of course, he had to wait until it was late enough that she would be free to talk since, unlike him, she needed to speak out loud to communicate.

He pinged her communicator. A few seconds later she connected, giving him an oddly pleasing sensation at how quickly she’d responded.

“Hi,” she said, her voice sounding almost wistful.

“Hi. Is everything going well?”

“We’ve had some issues. It appears we missed some of my brothers’ supporters. One of the executioners was found murdered, his body hung up in front of the Coliseum in a not too subtle message.”

“Should I come back?”

“No. Ramirus has it in hand and you are needed more in the north. We need this alliance finalized and we need it now, if we’re to start merging our resources and having access to the additional labor and materials for the war effort. We’ve increased guards on the most sensitive operations to deter sabotage and Ramirus has people out gathering information, but he thinks it is unlikely we find them until they make more moves.”

“You’re keeping your guards with you at all times, correct?”

“Yes. Don’t worry, I’ll be fine.”

“The last time you said that you were kidnapped.”

“And look how well that turned out for us,” she said, her voice unhappy.

Ky made a mental note to control how often he mentioned those events. He thought it was important for her to remember what happened when she let her guard down, but he was probably doing it too much and she was clearly displeased with it.

“Sorry,” he apologized.

“Good. Beyond that, I’ve met with the Legion commanders and they are, as a whole, on board with your directives. The Picts are still being an issue and have made it clear they are not pleased with taking orders from a woman.”

“Llassar said something?”

“No. He’s been supportive and has kept them in line so far, but there’s only so much he can do on his own. I did make a breakthrough today though, I think.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, I fought one of them to I guess a draw, and it seemed to have a positive effect on the rest.”

“What do you mean ‘you fought one of them’?”

“Just that. They were having these wrestling matches and when one of them made a comment at me, I challenged him.”

“Are you alright?”

“Scraped up, but I made my point and he was left on the floor. You know I’ve been training with my guardsman. I wasn’t completely unprepared.”

“True, and I don’t doubt the training is helping, but these people learn to fight from the time they’re small infants. You’ve been training for a few months. It seems a risky balance.”

“They continued to underestimate me, being a Roman woman and all. It allowed me to get some throws over him early on and catch him unprepared enough to put him down, although I think I broke the rules to do it.”

“I guess congratulations, then.”

“There was something odd, though. On my first throw, I managed to get him out of the ring a lot further than I would have thought I’d be able to. He wasn’t as tall or as muscular as some of his fellows, but he was still a large man, and the last punch I gave him shouldn’t have stunned him like it did. All of the training has been building my strength, but not to this level.”

“I don’t know,” Ky said, not sure how to respond.

“I can explain that,” Sophus said, breaking in.

“You can?” Lucilla asked.

“It has been made clear to me that your continued survival is critical to Ky’s success due to your probable pair bonding, so I took steps to increase the likelihood of your survival.”

“What do you mean ‘steps’?” Ky asked.

“During your mating ritual, I passed a grouping of nanobots from your system into Lucilla’s system with specified tasks to increase muscle function, immune system, nervous system and to correct a possible genetic defect detected in the pancreas.”

“You gave me some of his powers?” Lucilla asked, sounding both surprised and excited.

“No. Most of Ky’s physical enhancements are either genetic manipulation done shortly after conception or post-pubescent surgical augmentation, neither of which you have access to. I reprogrammed your communicator to allow for a pulse burst signal similar to the method I use to control the nanobots Ky has. It doesn’t allow the same two-way transfer and I do not have the ability to receive updates, so all commands are one-directional. When you are in Ky’s presence, I can use some of his systems to follow their path, but not when you are not. They are uncontrolled, operating under stored parameters. There is a limit to the number of units I can control in this method, which is why the capabilities are less. Beyond the increased functions listed previously, there will be some accelerated healing, although not to a level that would be easily noticeable, as well as balanced hormone production and nutritional processing.”

“I’m not sure I understand what all that meant,” Lucilla said.

“Most of what I can do is because of things physically altered when I was very young. They cut me open and added in things that allowed me to do some of the things I can do,” Ky translated. “What this did for you, is to make your body more efficient, allowing your muscles to both operate and grow at peak levels, as well as make you extremely healthy. It won’t allow you to do things that seem supernatural, but it will allow you to maintain the same physical condition as someone who spent most of their time improving their strength and health, but without the actual work.”

“Ohh. Well, that’s something. Thank you, Sophus.”

“You’re welcome. I have come to enjoy having someone else to talk to besides the Commander, and I find your presence pleasing.”

“High praise,” Ky said sarcastically. “I thought the nanobots had a limited life span without the self-replication they get from my enhancements?”

“They do. I have increased their lifespan from the days normally available in med-unit nano packs through additional firmware alterations, but they still will only have a lifespan of months at best. However, the likelihood of additional opportunities to transfer newly created nanobots from your system to hers is very high and I am in the process of altering some of your production capabilities to produce a new design that will better operate independently. They will be less efficient than the ones you have, but more efficient than your current stock of nanobots when they are uncontrolled. When the pilot-designated internal medical system was originally designed, it was found that the self-replication rate was higher than needed for one subject. Instead of altering the PDIMS to lower that rate, they programmed in a regulator to increase the time span in between replications. I have run numerous simulations to determine the long-range effects of permanently removing that regulator to increase the self-replication rate to make up for the group of nanobots that will no longer work for you. All simulations indicate no adverse effects.”

“So I will continue to produce a set of nanobots you’re designing for her?”

“Correct. They will store until a transfer window is available, at which point they will move into her system and start their programmed routines. This has not been done before, so this is a testing phase at the moment. When you are together more often, I will continue to update their programming and track its detectable physiological responses to make these altered nanobots more effective, although they will never reach the efficiency of yours.”

“I still am not sure I understand most of what you’ve said,” Lucilla said. “Are you sure this won’t make Ky weaker in any way?”

“I am as certain as I can be, and I will continue to monitor him closely, looking for any lowering of his capabilities.”

“It means a lot, your doing this for me, Sophus. I wish I could do something for you in exchange.”

“You have done something for me. I have a name, the first one any of my type has ever received.”

“I’m glad you two are becoming friends,” Ky said. “But in the future, I’d appreciate it if you told me about experiments you are running, especially ones that require me to be part of the testing platform.”

“I will keep that in mind,” Sophus said.

Ky couldn’t help but notice that Sophus hadn’t said 'yes.' Considering how exact the AI always was with its words, that was almost certainly by design.

“Fine, it’s getting late and we still have a bunch to discuss,” Ky said, and started down the list he’d prepared in his head before they’d got side-tracked discovering Sophus’s little experiment.

Londinium

“What‽” Maharbaal yelled, rolling over to glare at the loud banging against his door.

It seemed unimaginable that someone would be at his door at this time in the morning. He had made it clear, partially through the brutal mutilation of messengers and guards who failed to understand the message, that he was only to be woken in the most extreme of emergencies.

Maharbaal climbed out of bed, over the sleeping form of the women he’d chosen for the previous evening, pulling on a long tunic as he stormed towards the door, finally flinging it open. The guards standing to either side of the outer doorway were making it obvious that they were not a part of this decision. As he stared down at the terrified young man whose eyes were locked on the floor, he considered whether he should start punishing some of his guards that allow interruptions to his sleep. He’d have to give it some thought.

“I’m sorry for disturbing you, my lord, but you have a petitioner who has demanded to see you now. He would not wait until the morning.”

“That is why you woke me‽” Maharbaal bellowed, before looking at one of his guards. “Take him below and teach him the error of his ways.”

As the guard reached out to grab the man, he said, “My lord, he’s from Rome and said his name is Caesius. I have heard his name mentioned before. He said that he has news of what is happening there that you must hear right away.”

Maharbaal held up his hand, holding the guards.

“Caesius is here?”

“Yes, my lord. He is road worn and dirty and says he rode here straight from their capital.”

“Tell him I will be with him shortly.”

“Should I have someone bring him food or clean clothing?” the man asked, trying to anticipate his commander’s wishes.

“Did I tell you to do offer him anything? He can stand before my throne and wait for me to arrive, and be happy that is all that happens to him.”

The man bowed and quickly backed away, turning and running as soon as he was far enough away, probably happy to have just escaped with his life. Maharbaal didn’t pay him any more attention, his mind focused on what Caesius being here meant. The Romans had been increasingly effective at rooting out their spies and the messages from Caesius and his supporters had slowed over the last few weeks. What messages he had gotten had not boded well for the hopes of defeating Rome without having to commit large forces.

He’d already had to send to Carthage for more soldiers, and it had been made clear to him that another such request would come with commands for his dismissal, which was usually fatal. He was confident that the army he’d been assembling was large enough to crush any opposition, but word of this new Consul had shaken him. It had seemed impossible that Rome would have been able to defeat the previous army he sent before winter, but they had and everything his agents had found suggested this man was responsible for it.

He’d put pressure on Caesius to do something about him, and the man had also seemed confident he could stop this foreigner, but the Roman always seemed confident despite showing his incompetence numerous times.

Maharbaal sent one of his guards to fetch his valet while he paced, trying to work out what the Roman’s sudden appearance meant. The small man who was his current valet, a position with a fairly short lifespan, showed up finally and helped Maharbaal get dressed in all his regal splendor. Even in emergencies, he had to maintain the air of authority and fear he maintained over the men in his charge. Governors who let that fear lapse often ended up with uprisings in their areas, which could draw the ire of the Emperor or his vizier.

Finally ready, he swooped out of his quarters and down the private hall to the old Roman forum, which he used as his personal throne room, his guards falling in behind him. Caesius stood in the center of the forum, looking around, probably wondering what it would have been like when the Romans still controlled Londinium.

Most Roman writing and statues were gone, slowly being replaced by Carthaginian reliquary. His messenger hadn’t been wrong, the Roman looked terrible, and not just from being road worn. His clothing was torn and Maharbaal could see dried blood in several places on his armor and draping, although it was unclear if that was from him or someone else.

“Why are you here? Your father’s agents will notice you, if they haven’t already, and reports could already be on their way back to his spymaster. I did not put all of the resources and manpower into supporting your bid for power for you to just throw it away.”

“It doesn’t matter anymore.”

“Why?” Maharbaal asked, his eyes narrowing.

“The senator that I had been cultivating to help me block my father’s moves, and those of the Hades be dammed Consul, grew impatient. With the new alliance being all but finalized, he didn’t see any choice but to try and depose my father through feat of arms before any of the new warriors could come south.”

“What alliance? That was not in any of your last reports.”

“It happened too quickly to notify you of it. Your agents managed to have the Picts capture my sister, as you promised, and the Consul traveled north to rescue her. Instead of defeating him and killing both, the Picts agreed to not only ally with my father, but to form a new alliance whose sole purpose was to counter Carthaginian expansion. My father signed the new alliance the day the Consul returned, which must mean it was pre-planned, but they kept it to themselves until it was accomplished.”

“The Romans have allied with the north men? Did they send warriors to join the Roman legions?”

“Yes. Almost five thousand returned from the north with the Consul. The alliance isn’t finalized, but before I left they’d already begun training to bring the Picts into the legions. This is partly why Silo, the senator I spoke of, decided to act. He had two legions loyal to him and his supporters and thought that, if he moved fast enough, he could get to the center of the city and imprison my father before the remaining legions could respond. He failed. His legions were defeated.”

“So, you ran?”

“Yes. Ramirus already had agents out looking for me. Silo, one of the legates was taken alive, and several other senators and leaders who knew I was involved were taken alive. It seemed prudent to think my father knew of my connections and would have me arrested. Had he been the only one making decisions, he might not have done anything more than imprison me in my quarters, but the Consul is ruthless. He would have argued that I needed to be removed, permanently. I felt that I could still contribute to your success and decided to come here, instead.”

“You did, did you? Not only did you fail completely to remove your father, but you also allowed this foreigner to gain a foothold and then rise to the highest rungs of power. Now you’re telling me you also allowed him and your father to create an alliance with the north men, all the while waiting and doing nothing, despite having two of your legions loyal to you. When you finally got the courage to do something, it was too late and you squandered all of that and were chased all the way to my throne room. And now you think that, despite your continued record of complete failure, I somehow need your help? Why shouldn’t I have you dragged out of here in chains?”

“I am the son and true heir to the Empire of Rome!” he said.

He tried to sound angry and haughty, but it was impossible to miss the quiver of fear in his voice.

“You are a failure and in control of nothing.”

“I still know of their plans and their capabilities. And I still have supporters in the city. I can coordinate with them. Using them I can help destabilize Devnum, weakening their ability to fight against you.”

Maharbaal’s first impulse was to have him just dragged to the dungeons, where he could rot out of sight. It seemed unlikely this fool could offer him any information his spies wouldn’t be able to get on their own. News of this new alliance worried him, however. He couldn’t imagine how it had happened without any word of it escaping until just now. While he was confident that his new, larger army could defeat the Romans once and for all, he wasn’t as confident as he had been before hearing the news. If this fool did have resources in Devnum still, it might not do to rush into making an example of him just yet.

He could always do that the next time he failed, which seemed to be an all but certain eventuality.

“You can remain here, under guard, for the time being. Get word to your agents. I expect to see results and I need to see them soon, if you want to prove you still have enough worth to be kept alive.”