Free Strength and Honor by R.M. Meluch Page B

had since used Pompeii’s overweening pride and disdain against him. She had embarrassed the Triumphalis more than once in battle.
    Another of her instructors at the Imperial Military Institute had been Gaius Bruccius Eleutherius Americanus. Gaius was not a native Roman. He had been born on Earth, christened Dante Porter, an impoverished, ill-educated U.S. citizen. He had attended a school system that passed students out like bilge water. It had scandalized and mortified the U.S. when an American citizen renounced his citizenship to sell himself into slavery in the Roman Empire just to get an education.
    “Property rights” on Palatine often referred to rights of the property. Dante the slave had the right to food, shelter, and a Roman education. Roman education was uniformly excellent. Dante earned his education, his freedom, and his Roman citizenship.
    Renamed Gaius by the Bruccius family who adopted him, he rose from the bottom of society’s birdcage to become a Senator, Consul, and right hand to Caesar Magnus.
    Gaius Americanus had been young Calli’s mentor at the Institute. He had seen in her a sharp intellect and a fellow outsider. He had been willing to help someone driven to learn.
    Calli never stopped adoring him.
    She wished like hell she could just lose this message. She would have, except she had been entrusted by John Farragut to deliver it. Farragut’s trust had a nearly magical force that made people risk anything not to disappoint him.
    She could only pray that Gaius would refuse Numa Pompeii’s invitation.
    Gaius Americanus had not come to Fort Eisenhower for his own safety. Gaius came to the Deep to keep his family out of reach of Romulus’ long knives.
    Gaius knew that a man who would kill his own father would not hesitate to do the same to the wife and children of his chief rival if it served him.
    Coming out here had been a political mistake. But Gaius valued his family above all else. If he had to do it over again, his decision would be the same.
    He recognized immediately—even before Magnus was declared dead—that Romulus had been ready and waiting to seize control out of the chaos. Romulus had anticipated the chaos.
    Gaius immediately knew he was the next target, and he moved his family out of Romulus’ range. He tried to keep in mind the words of Philip II, upon a retreat: I fall back like the ram, to charge again harder. But this ram was finding the footing too slippery to mount any kind of charge.
    It did not help that Romulus was an effective leader. Gaius had been asked, “If he’s a good leader, why would you want to overthrow him?” The question amazed him. How could a patricide be a good leader? Foul was foul. Was Hitler a good leader except for the Holocaust? He had also been told, “If it ain’t broke, don’t fix it.” To which he tried to explain, “It’s broke.”
    No one wanted to hear that. The expedience of evil allowed decent citizens to turn blind and deaf when it served them.
    “What does it make you when you allow a man without morals, without ethics, to lead you?” Gaius said.
    “Roman.” That was the American answer.
    The report of Augustus’ death came as a blow to Gaius’ efforts to assemble a power base. Without Magnus, without Augustus, Gaius was the sole witness that Magnus named a successor in his last testament. That Gaius was the named successor made him an unconvincing witness.
    Then came the invitation to leave the shelter of the U.S. fortress to go out and talk with Numa Pompeii.
    The Triumphalis had never been Gaius’ political ally. Numa Pompeii was a hawk, a grandiose, bread-andcircuses sort of Roman. A charismatic politician, an opportunist. A bully. But Numa Pompeii was loyal to the empire—his own vision of the empire—but still his loyalty lay with Rome.
    Trust him, Gaius did not. Gaius could not risk his family. But he could risk his own life. He accepted Numa Pompeii’s invitation to come out and talk.
    Even before the declaration