align his nose with that of Gaius Marius'. For most of his life, after seeing his father's Triumph, Maxentius wondered what the red paint would feel like on his flesh.
Nothing. His "skin" wasn't sensitive enough to convey that to him. He felt a slight warmth, possibly a wetness … that was all. The Caesar was disappointed, but he quickly pushed that aside.
"In privilege you were born," the flamen said as he lightly pressed the back of Caesar's head down, "in honor have you ruled, in wisdom have you governed, in strength have you stood, in triumph shall you march!"
The priest withdrew the mask and Caesar slowly stood erect again. He kept his eyes closed for a few moments before nodding to the flamen. Then, Maxentius turned to the audience and opened his eyes. He looked across their faces and saw pride.
The crowd stood and lowered their heads in respectful silence. The emperor stepped down from the dais and moved through the center aisle to the temple's front door. Behind him, he heard the audience begin to file out through other exits so they could assume their places in the triumph or along the route. He blinked slowly and tried not to move his mouth. He didn't want to disturb the ceremonial red paint.
"Lord Triumphator," Toma Marcus said as he placed his fist over his heart. Next to him, Magister Marcia Camillus saluted also.
Maxentius smiled and returned the gesture, "Triumphator. Triumphator." Here stood the only three living triumphed citizens of Tiber. Camillus was fresh from her own Triumph just a month before. Having led the ground campaign into Nandia, the people grew to love her and her public addresses on their progress.
Caesar, however, ordered this Triumph for himself. After violating the "sanctitas soli," he unwittingly annexed Nandia in one fell swoop. It was something unheard of and bold. The people loved it. Their leader, seemingly in top physical form again, taking for Tiberia what was Tiberia's.
"I am about to return to Viminal Square, lord," Marcus said. "If there's anything else you require …"
"No, Toma. Thank you."
He stepped away and Camillus slid into his position. "Dominus."
Caesar smiled and said, "We meet again so soon." Maxentius turned and began to walk toward his heavily adorned chariot. "I assume you will be in the cohort before me?"
"I will, emperor," she said. "If such an occasion arises, I am more than willing to serve as your magister again."
Caesar nodded. "I will keep that in mind." As Camillus strode toward her own chariot, he realized that she didn't want the Triumph to be the end of her career. She is still very young, he thought.
He pivoted on his right foot and grabbed the handle on the side of his cart. The four white horses attached whinnied at each movement Caesar made. He mumbled, "Can you hear the whine of my metallic motors?" Despite the padding in his Cyclops body, he could hear them, too.
As he stepped into the chariot, he felt one of the servos in his right hip give out. His eyes widened and he clumsily slung that side of his body into position. He wanted to think a message to Ouranos, but this body didn't have Matrix access.
"Lord imperator," a young man said from the cobblestones of Avantine Square. "I am the scribe assigned to be your mementic."
Caesar tilted his head. "I see." He had forgotten about this part of the parade.
The fellow stepped into the chariot behind the emperor and held the side of vehicle. Maxentius looked down his side to see where the squire would be standing. He sighed and gazed ahead at the procession.
From atop the Synoptic Church, a horn was blown. The first of the musicians and flower children left Avantine Square and turned the corner to walk downhill. Caesar watched them disappear and smirked at the roar of the crowd. The bound Nandian prisoners were moved ahead next, followed by the carts loaded with captured goods ready to be tossed into the crowds. From the port several kilometers away, several battleship horns blew, echoing along the river and throughout the city. Once a sufficient space was cleared on the parade route, the three hundred ceremonially attired senators and the central government's consuls filed in. More musicians and flower children followed. A group of priests with activated censers joined them and waved their smoking wands about. Triumphator Camillus moved her chariot into the lane and the Cyclops cohorts left the edge of Campus Quirinus, marching behind her. The imperator smiled brightly and tightened his grip on the leather reins. After three legions of human soldiers left the field and began to march, Caesar urged his four horses forward.
When the chariot lurched, the mementic lifted the golden laurel into place above the emperor's head and said, just loud enough to be heard, "Remember, you are a mortal."
Caesar's eyes narrowed and he looked across the procession. Air crackled high above and Maxentius glanced up in time to see three squadrons of twenty-four fighters each fly overhead, spilling lengthy trails of purple, red and golden smoke. They blasted above the Triumph's route in the first of many such appearances today.
The emperor began to turn down Avantine Hill and the scope of the Triumph first hit him. As far as the eye could see, people lined every hill, field, building, and beyond. They were in trees, on rooftops, hanging from windows and streetpoles. Millions of people gathered in Tiber to see this, the first Triumph of a Caesar in nearly one hundred years. Attendants threw Nandian coins and food into the crowd. Children tossed flowers into the air where the petals were lifted by the breeze. Horns blared loudly and joined the cacophony of signals from the warships offshore. Once their leader's red face was visible, both to their naked eyes and to the hundreds of screens placed along the route, the crowd became more rambunctious than ever before.
Caesar's chest swelled and he felt the sensation of a lump in his throat. It was purely a mental illusion, but he could swear it was there. He smiled and lifted his hand only to have his reverie quashed by the squire again.
"Remember, you are a mortal," the mementic said.
The emperor ground his teeth and turned toward the boy. After snatching the laurel from his hand, he said, "Your services are no longer required."
XXXIX
CRONUS
144 Years Before the End
"This feels … pointless," Cronus said.
Ouranos lifted his eyes from a microscope and looked across the room. "How so this time?"
He shook his head and tossed a piece of paper onto the table. "Yet again, we lack some of the basic resources we need to move ahead on these things."
"I told you that when you first got here." Ouranos slid away from his position and rotated to look at the younger Psilon. "Caesar wants to make a living body for himself and we lack almost everything to get it done."
"In Doria, we could have," Coeus said. He rubbed his face and turned a datacube over to examine the base.
"We're not in Doria," Rhea said.
Cronus stood up and walked to the wall. He turned and pressed his shoulder into the corner. After scanning the faces of the Psilons and Ouranos, he smiled. "We're the best minds in the world. We can figure it out." He looked at Coeus again and thought, Today seems like a good day for him.
Oceanus nodded. "We will."
Coeus held up another datacube. "There's a problem, though."
"What?"
"If I'm right, when we finally do get the ability to create bodies, we will only be able to duplicate ourselves at first." Coeus set the datacube back in the receptacle and pressed buttons on the computer. He scratched his head furiously and leaned over toward the screen.
Cronus sighed. "Small favors." He looked toward Phoebe and asked, "What about reversing our sterilization?"
She shook her head. "No. Coeus is the only one who's unaltered, since he had an unscheduled death."
"Am I intruding?"
Everyone looked toward the doorway and saw the Caesar standing there. The Psilons stood and bowed toward him and the imperator stepped inside, motioning for them to sit back down.
"Please, carry on. I'm simply curious." He w
as using his Cyclops body again, as he often did these days.
Cronus nodded and glanced at Ouranos. He pulled himself from the wall and walked toward Maxentius. "My lord, may we speak freely?"
The emperor's eyebrows lifted. Ouranos glanced about nervously before his gaze settled on Cronus and Caesar. "Please."
Cronus took a deep breath and lowered his head. "We continue to study the … creation of organic bodies for the Project."
"Yes," Caesar said.
"Of course, we brought datacubes from BBM when we left, but, unfortunately," Cronus looked toward Coeus, "it seems that much of the data is only useful when applied to duplicating our own bodies."
Caesar stopped moving and his face went blank. He lifted his head a little and said, "I see."
Cronus lifted his hands and began to gesture, "Now, we can certainly extrapolate from that information the data we require. It will simply take a little longer."
Maxentius smirked and said, "I have time. I understand. Just get it right."
"Of course, lord."
The emperor asked, "How long until you are able to create these duplicate bodies for yourselves much as you had in Doria?"
Cronus turned his head as he thought. "A few years, at least. Once we have the materials, it shouldn't take long." The imperator turned to look at something Hyperion and Theia were working on. Cronus spoke up again, "I do have another concern."
Caesar turned back around and arched his eyebrows. "Yes?"
"Materials. Computing power. Tiberia lacks