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All Roads Lead to Rome

Posted on Wed Mar 1st, 2017 @ 12:56am by Lieutenant Lucius Scipio Minor

Mission: Blackout
Location: Runabout USS Nile


It had been four hours since Scipio boarded the runabout for his rendezvous with the Gladiator. Before that, it had been 72 hours since his journey began on Magna Roma to Starbase 718. From there, he was a guest of the USS Mandela until he eventually departed their shuttlebay as a passenger on the runabout.

Though he had ample time to converse with others in transit - some were far to eager - he had for the most part, refrained. Small talk was not his forte though the Bolian who had accompanied him a quarter of the way could have gotten hoarse from the constant string of words slipping pass his lips.

Instead, he took the opportunity to scan over the data of his latest assignment. As a Legionaire, he was impressed by the ordinance of the Excalibur class battleship. Nothing he had served before could even compare to such an impressive vessel as the Gladiator. The specifications, some were restricted, was still enough to realize that this was going to be a lot different.

The Olympia, his last ship, had a Sickbay of just three biobeds, an almost claustrophobic environment. Here, he could almost compare his new Sickbay to a hospital ward. He was replacing Doctor Borden, who instilled discipline and professionalism into the staff after inheriting a mess from earlier predecessors. He was grateful that this burden had not fallen on his shoulders for he was unlikely to be as patient as her when it came to reforming the department. What he read of the current staff's records was more than satisfactory for his needs. He would still evaluate them to his own standards. He was aware that some of the physicians may have coveted the position he was now given or resent him coming in and changing things. He simply waved that off for the moment because drama was best left to the Greeks.

He had enough time to skim over a data file on his PADD titled 'Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire' composed by an 18th century Terran. He was intrigued that Earth had a similar situation to his own. Scipio was aware of Hodgkins' Parallel Planetary Development but don't ask him to understand it. To him, Earth was the clone not Magna Roma. He considered sending the file to his father, considering Earth's Rome, in part, fell to the barbarians - a peoples the elder Scipio still resented after all this time. There were some differences, Varus' legions, for example, were not defeated by the Germanic tribes and in fact the Roman victory paved the way of making Germania a province of the Empire. Of course, the Earth historian was stating things from the point of a post-Roman period where all the flaws and hypocrisies can easily be scrutinized. Magna Roma never really had that opportunity onto the 1990's when serious reform took hold. Some said the seed was created by Federation personnel decades earlier but he wasn't entirely sure.

One of his personal crates contained his armor and gladius. Aboard the Centurion, crewed entirely by his countrymen, it had been a ceremonial uniform. Apart from that assignment, he was not sure why he still carried it with him when Starfleet's Class A uniform was the choice by protocol aboard every other vessel. Even among others, he still felt more Roman, more different. Even the SPQR banner was tucked away in these crates.

The data file was informative, especially when it broke from the history he knew of from his own world. He could point to historical figures and say 'that never happened or have a eye opening moment of clarity on certain facts he did not know about some of the emperors of old. The one thing about thinking of home was naturally going to lead to Aislin.

His wife had been a Celt, of the Veneti tribe, whom, like all in Gaul, fell to Rome 2000 years before. If it hadn't been for reforms, she would have been just another slave in his household and not his wife. She was constantly in his thoughts, her scarlet hair, how it curled over her shoulders, the gaze from her emerald eyes that could vanquish any unpleasant mood he might have. She had been his everything and now, was simply represented by a marble head bust in one of his personal crates aboard the runabout. The bust still had her youthful image, that fleeting 23 year old idealist he remembered, ripped away by the Borg. Was she still alive in some twisted form aboard one of their cubes, a prisoner of the Collective mind? He shook his head, such thoughts were more than pessimistic. They were destroying his soul, leaving ash in its wake.

"Aislin." He said aloud but shook his head as he had caught the attention of another passenger. After thirty years, her presence was never far from his thoughts.

"We will be rendezvousing with the Starship Gladiator in fifteen minutes." Reported the co-pilot, who could have been a Roman for his attention to his duty. "Please return to your seats and strap in for preparation for landing."

Scipio placed his PADD in his satchel, grateful that finally arriving at his destination, his mind would no longer have empty minutes to ponder on the past...On her.



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