Junior set the experiment down on a table in a small room over a noisy tavern. The late afternoon sun shone and gay fife music floated in the window. He knew he wasn't supposed to come alone, but no one would think of looking for him here. Aunt Kathy was busy, and his parents didn't really listen to his tales, they had probably forgotten all about this place. It was perfect for his needs, and he needed some time to let the experiment play out.
The bald man found himself sitting on a cold, marble chair. A throne is more like it, he thought, as he looked around at his new surroundings. He was in what appeared to be a large marble hall with ornate columns flanking either side of the room. The throne he sat in rested on a raised dais at one end of the long room. Looking down at himself, he found himself in a toga of heavy cream-colored cloth with purple and gold trim. Reaching up, he felt a crown of some sort of leaves on his head. Sighing to himself over the folly of young children, he stood and inhaled deeply. "JUNIOR", he shouted into the empty room. He paused and waited for a response. When none was forthcoming, he bellowed the name again.
A boy with sandy hair came creeping out from behind a column. He was dressed in a one-piece outfit of red and black that made him look younger then he was. Red was the favorite color of his aunt and the bald man, so it was his favorite color now, too. While the bald man was technically beneath him and merely one of his father's old playthings, Junior had come to realize that these playthings were sentient and had feelings. Just like Aunt Kathy. He even liked and respected the bald man. Swallowing, the boy came up in front of the man.
"Sir?"
The bald man sighed again and tried to control his annoyance. He was uncomfortable with children, but tried hard not to show it now. This child had extraordinary powers, and it was unwise to provoke him or any of his kind. But Junior was still a child, none-the-less, and had to be held to some sort of standard. The man had been subtly trying to instill that standard into the boy ever since they had met. The boy had been curious to explore and the man was secretly happy to oblige. The man had always been interested in history and this was a way to indulge. Trying to look stern, the man looked down off the dais.
"Junior, where am I? When am I?" he asked firmly.
"Ancient Rome, sir! Don't you like it?" the boy couldn't contain his enthusiasm.
Gazing around the room in wonder, the man's expression lightened a trifle.
Seeing it, the boy started to smile.
Catching the look out of the corner of his eye, the man grew stern again. "We were in the late 20th century... and now suddenly we're here. We are all here, aren't we? You didn't leave any of us behind, did you?" Concern made his voice sharp.
The boy didn't notice the tone; he bounced on the balls of his feet, excitement oozing from him. "Of course not, I brought you all!" Pausing, he looked around, anxious. "I thought I put them in here with you." Realizing where he had left the others, he smiled and snapped his fingers, four more people appeared, all in various Roman costume.
The four new people consisted of two men and two women. The bearded male was tall and broad, his eyes twinkling as he looked at his new costume of toga and sandals, and his new surroundings. The bearded man turned to look at the dark, olive skinned woman standing close to him and pulled her in close, a playful leer on his face. She was beautiful in a Grecian way that was only enhanced by her new garments, a beautiful pale blue stola over an under chemise of darker blue, the female version of the toga. Her curly black hair was pulled up and away from her face by a bronze clip. Her dark eyes were lined with kohl. She, in turn, smiled back serenely, as she surveyed the new situation.
The other woman was a pale reflection of the dark woman. Where the first was younger, she was older. Where the first was darkly beautiful, the second woman was pale, lightly freckled, with fiery hair. Where the dark woman was lush and ample, the pale woman was lithe and athletic. She was garbed as finely as the bald man was, in fact, their costumes matched in color and trimmings. Her hair was piled high above her head, held there by gold threads and gem-encrusted pins. She turned and gave a wry look to the bald man that he did not catch immediately. He was too busy absorbing the details of her new outfit and what it showed off to him. The red head coughed slightly and the bald man came back to himself, flushing.
A clanking sound caused everyone, including the boy, to turn and look. Coming out from behind a column was a very tall, very broad dark skinned man, dressed as an Imperial Guard, complete with shining breastplate, armbands, scarlet cape, and helmet. The helmet covered the top of his face, leaving the man's mouth and chin visible. A growling sigh came from him as he stood before them, resignation in every line of his body. The bearded man grinned and clapped him on the shoulder.
The guard turned to look at him, then at the bald man who looked appropriately solemn, then at the boy. The guard sighed, and then ground out, "Really? Is this necessary?" His pointed teeth glinted in the torchlight.
The boy hemmed and hawed, not wanting to answer. The warrior man actually frightened him sometimes, although he tried hard not to show it.
The bald man, sensing an impending explosion in his large companion, tactfully changed the subject back to the original one, before his friends had come on the scene. Turning back to the boy he asked, "But why here? What made you choose this place?"
"My father started this experiment." The boy stated simply.
The bald man waited. Finally, he prompted, "And..." giving the boy a stern look.
"And, well, I borrowed it." The boy stammered. Then he protested, "He won't notice! I promise! He never notices what I do." The boy dug the point of one shoe into the ground, looking away, his face sad. The dark woman came behind him and set a comforting hand on his shoulder, giving the bald man a pointed look.
The bald man sighed. Looking at the boy's sad face, he felt a pang of something he didn't want to identify, then he asked, "What would you like us to do, who are we supposed to be?"
The boy's face lit up and he came over and explained what he wanted to do next.
Astra sat in the master's study, the tablinum, and blew a strand of sweaty hair out of her face. It had escaped the clip that held her hair up off her neck. Despite being centrally located between the open atrium courtyard to one side and the open peristylium courtyard to the other, there was no breeze blowing through at the moment, and Astra was unaccustomed to the cloying heat. Sighing, she set down the scroll that she had been studying. Pulling the clip out of her hair Astra contemplated it for a moment, smiling at the thoughts it brought to her. Repinning her hair she thought about her master.
She had been living at the master's Roman residence for almost a month now. When she had first arrived she had found the home strange and alien, but now she understood the reasoning behind its design. All Roman homes were built with two centrally located courtyards, similar to many of the larger homes from her island country. But that was the only similarity. Instead of mostly wood and paper, homes here were built with stone and clay tile with very little wood used. It kept the heat off during the day and radiated heat back out in the cool of the night. Her father's home had been very grand and had had a central courtyard she knew well. Astra had rarely been allowed outside of the walls of her home. Here too, she was not allowed out.
The Pict shifted his position. He had been standing near the front of the house in the alcove fauces, just inside of the front door vestibulum. Usually he was out with his master, being his silent guard, or guarding the few other female slaves as they went to the market for the daily shopping. But since the master had returned with this new slave, the Pict's job had been guarding the house, and in turn, Astra. Dressed as he was in a dark version of what all the master's slaves wore, a tunic with sandals, he was hard to see in the shadows. But he knew that Astra knew where he was. She seemed to sense him. The Pict thought about the first day Astra had been with them.
The morning after the master's return, Astra and the Pict had been called into the master's tablinum. Astra took a submissive posture, her hands folded, her head bowed. The Pict took his normal stance, ready for anything. Sagittarius had looked up from his reading to regard them both and then had started issuing orders.
Looking at Astra, he stated, "You are not to leave the house under any circumstances, unless I expressly tell you otherwise." Before Astra could have any reaction he looked down at the papers on his desk, and in a softer voice said, "I would like you to spend your time here in my tablinum. Learn to read Latin, and then I would like you to make some order out of all of this." Sagittarius gestured at the mess of scrolls and maps lining the two walls the open room had, a look of cultivated disinterest on his face.
Astra merely nodded, not meeting his gaze.
The Pict regarded them both. He was not surprised at Astra's behavior, she was a slave, but he was very surprised at his master's. Sagittarius was a good master, but was not given to asking his slaves for anything. Sagittarius was nothing, if not decisive and straightforward in his commands.
Sagittarius's head came back around and he regarded the Pict. The Pict unconsciously straightened under his master's gaze.
"You are to guard her. Let no one in this house, unless they live here or are accompanied by myself. Do I make myself clear? No one is to enter." The master was firm once again. He stood and got ready to leave.
The Pict could feel Astra, quite still next to him, her head bowed, her hair in her face. She was almost like a shy animal, hiding, trying to avoid notice.
The Pict saw Sagittarius glance at her briefly, several emotions chasing across his master's face, one after the other.
Sagittarius put on a neutral look and spoke again. "I'd like you to start today. When I return home, perhaps you can show me what you have accomplished."
Then Sagittarius stood and left, striding out of the room and across the atrium towards the vestibulum and the door.
That started one of the strangest relationships the Pict had ever had. Outside of the master's presence Astra had begun to blossom. She seemed to perceive her place in the standing of the household and was not the shy, diffident creature she was around the master. But neither was she lording her obvious preferential treatment over the rest of them. As Astra spent her days learning how to read both Latin and Greek, she not only organized the master's study, but also drew out the other slaves, including the Pict. The Pict couldn't even think of himself as impersonally as he had before Astra's arrival. She had even drawn from him his given name, something he had wanted to forget and leave buried with his painful past.
Over the course of the days and weeks, Astra had also pulled out his story. She had asked him to speak in his native tongue, and then had learned it in the course of a day. Perhaps it had been hearing his native Celtish once more that had lowered his natural reserves. Perhaps it had been Astra's teasing personality. Astra treated him like an older brother, a stubborn older brother. With anyone else he would have been annoyed, but with Astra he found himself relaxing and enjoying the banter.
Malcolm had been the eldest child of a local fisherman. His father had been a stern, overbearing man who had treated his only son with a heavy hand and harsh words. When he had been a small boy, Malcolm had fallen off his father's boat, nearly drowning. His father had dragged him home, waterlogged and half dead, with no sympathy for the tiny child. After that episode of near drowning, Malcolm's father again and again would toss Malcolm from the boat, telling him to swim. Despite the young Malcolm's best efforts, his rail thin body couldn't master the motions well enough or fast enough to please his father. When an older Malcolm resisted becoming a fisherman like his father, his father had turned him out, severing all contact with his only son. Malcolm wandered from town to town, doing odd jobs until he had made his way from the north of his island home to the southern shores. It was there that a Roman Speculatores unit had captured him. It had been the master's unit, and they had been scouting out new lands for the emperor. While Malcolm had been terrified at becoming a slave to an unknown race of conquerors, he had soon come to learn that his master was a benevolent man. Malcolm observed that Sagittarius was good with his men and inspired only loyalty amongst them. That loyalty was also inspired in Malcolm, and now he happily served his master.
Malcolm came back to himself, shaking himself out of his musings. He thought about the other slaves and their reactions to Astra. Where she should have inspired envy and jealousy, she instead inspired kindness and friendship.
Malcolm had been put in charge of Astra's safety for a reason, and he understood why. Keeping her presence a secret was a must in a city that loved novelty. Dwarves, mutes, colored slaves; anything new and different was highly prized in this city. The other slaves should have had wagging tongues, especially in light of the preferential treatment she continued to receive from the master, but instead, the other slaves closed ranks and protected her, too. Astra was thoughtful and courteous to them all, and the other slaves responded to her treatment.
Malcolm saw how, from the beginning, the master had treated Astra with gentleness and regard, almost as if she had been a fine born Roman woman. When the master thought no one watched he would slip small gifts to Astra, always making light of the acts, but they were always something that brought joy to the young woman, causing her face to light up. The items included a hair clip, lotion for her hands, sweet smelling perfume, and a beautiful scarf to keep the sun off her face. Malcolm knew the master saw each of her glowing looks, and Malcolm also saw the master's face brighten in response.
Astra completed her duties for the day and was now busy tidying her chamber. Her eyes caught the wall scroll and she smiled. One of the first things that the master had given her was pen, ink, and paper. While it was different than what she was accustomed to, she utilized them to make several wall scrolls that now hung around the house. One was of her island home, and it hung in her chamber where she would see it and be reminded of her family. Another, of the ibis in Egypt, had been given to T'Qur. The last one she had given to the master. It had been of a star filled sky with a dragon curled amongst the clouds. Somehow it reminded her of him.
Sagittarius was a puzzle to her, and while she loved a good puzzle, something made her feel timid around him. Before leaving home she had had suitors that had interested her. But she had never met anyone like Sagittarius. It wasn't only his appearance that was different, although his green eyes were very compelling. His personality, his behavior was so at odds with what she thought a barbarian was supposed to be. And he wasn't consistent in his behavior, either. At times he treated her like his slave, to do his bidding. At other times he was courteous and genteel. Still at others, he treated her like her older brothers had, like a little sister who needed guidance and occasional teasing.
Deciding she needed to distract her mind from its ramblings on the master, Astra got up to go find T'Qur and Malcolm. They would be better company than her confused thoughts. As she walked from her room, and through her master's, she paused and looked at the room around her. His room was spartan, but for a few ornaments from places visited. It was very masculine, with no hint of a woman's touch. She thought that he must be lonely in the life he led, and she pondered how she could make his life nicer, more pleasant. Pushing that idea from her head she berated herself as an idiot. She was just a slave and would now, always be one. Sighing to herself, she left and went towards the atrium. Perhaps Malcolm would consent to speak with her in Celtish. That was always amusing, and she loved his accent. With a smile, she left her room.
Much later Sagittarius came into his dimly lit chamber, tired, hot and dusty. He had been training with his men all day. The training had run long, and he had several issues with his men that needed to be dealt with. If the emperor would grant them leave to be off again, his men would not have so much idle time on their hands. Too much idle time meant young men that got themselves into trouble, which meant a captain that had to work hard to get his youngsters out of that trouble.
Also, Linus had turned down his invitation to dinner yet again and was still drinking himself into oblivion every night. Sagittarius was frustrated and concerned about his second in command. But Linus came to training practice every day and performed well, so Sagittarius had to let it go. Sighing, he lit a small lamp.
Sagittarius had also missed his daily evening meeting with Astra, something that he looked forward to. Almost every night they spoke about the progress she was making in his study. But the hour was late and Astra had already gone to bed. He wasn't fit company anyhow. He needed a bath. He would have to wait till tomorrow to speak with her.
One of the best things he had ever done was have his own bathing rooms built into his house. He didn't have to trouble himself with the public baths unless he wanted to. Standing in the middle of the room he began to strip off his practice armor, old and scarred. His leg guards and sandals came off next, revealing heavily muscled legs caked in dust and dirt. Tossing them to the side he unstrapped his sword belt, the belt and its sword, and laid them off to the side where he would tend to them later. Lastly his short tunic came off, tossed into the same corner with the rest of his sweat soaked gear.
Lighting a second lamp, his eyes caught the darkness in the rooms beyond his chamber. The doorway that separated his chamber from Astra's had no door; it was only an arch. The room had originally been meant as a ladies' sitting chamber off of the main bedroom. This was the only way in or out of it. The light from his lamp did nothing to illuminate what lay beyond. It only reflected off of his hard, sweaty body. His shoulders were knots of tension and fatigue, his hair matted from his helmet. His heavily muscled back and chest were streaked with dirt and sweat.
Sagittarius worked hard at staying at the top of his form. He was older than all his men but pushed himself to stay as fit as the youngest of them. All his work showed in his physique. He turned women's heads, and knew it, but it brought no one to his bed. He had never wanted to take a wife. A wife would mean children and responsibilities not suited with his life of exploration. Neither did he want to take a concubine. It wasn't his nature. When he chose to do something, he committed to it fully.
This is what troubled him. He had to obey the law and take a wife soon, but didn't want to. He wanted the creature that lay beyond in the darkened chamber but resisted the notion of taking her as a concubine. She was beautiful enough to tempt any man, she tempted him, but she was also so young, and naïve, and trusting. He was her master, so he could lawfully do with her as he wished. But he felt a master was also a protector. Her own father hadn't protected her, and he couldn't treat her the same way. He could see she trusted him, and he didn't want to see that look of trust leave her eyes.
His mind wandered to her beautiful, mysterious eyes. It then drifted to her other attributes and he grew hard at the thoughts he was having. As he shoved those thoughts from his mind, he was grateful he still wore his small clothes. For a reason he couldn't fathom, he knew he shouldn't be thinking about Astra like that. Somehow it was wrong. With a last glance at the dark chambers beyond, Sagittarius picked up his lamp, blew out the other one, and strode from the room and off to his bath. His troubled thoughts followed in his wake.
In the darkness that was left behind, two jet black eyes glittered in the chambers beyond. Sighing, the young woman rolled over and tried to sleep, thoughts of the master filling her head. These thoughts followed her into her dreams later that night. Her dreams became strange. She saw a small room, lit with strange blue light. She was barely dressed and the master wore even less. She saw herself rubbing a gelatinous substance all over the master's body...and having the same rubbed on her. Feelings ran through her that she knew she shouldn't be having. The master was not for her, and she could never have him. Astra woke with a start, sitting up in bed. A word lingered behind, left over from her dreams. It floated in her head, in a language she couldn't place.
Enterprise.
Junior held a look of intense concentration on his face. His brow was damp, his eyes tightly closed. The dark woman sat near him, concerned. The bald man walked up, with a query on his face, the woman held one finger to her lips. Standing up, she drew the man away from the boy.
"He's trying to hold all this together." She whispered, indicating the world around them.
The man was confused. "But he's never had a problem before. We already know we're here. He lets us retain our memories of all these...little jaunts through Earth's history." He paused, looking over his shoulder at the boy. "He has unlimited power, like his father. What's the problem?"
The woman paused and framed her reply. "First off, he's a child, for all of his power. Second, he needs to learn to use his power properly-"
The bald man cut her off. "But Counselor, he has always used it properly in the past experiments. We've never been injured, things have always run properly."
The woman looked up at him in exasperation. "I know this, sir. What is the one thing his father sometimes did to us that his son has never done?" She looked up, expectantly.
The bald man pondered this for a moment. "Junior has always allowed us to retain our memories, his father, only when it suited him." He thought a bit more, understanding suddenly blossoming on his face. "So you're saying Junior is concentrating because..."
The woman nodded. "Precisely, I think there are other real players here and Junior is learning to do as his father did. He's keeping them 'in the dark'."
The man looked worried. "But who could they be?"
The woman had turned to look at the boy. "I guess we'll find out when the time comes for this drama to play itself out. And then, only if Junior wants to tell us who they are."
T'Pol tossed and turned in her bed. Her dreams had changed and became disturbing. A sheen of sweat covered her brow, she moaned, but didn't awaken.
