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enigmatic emplacement. Now Eilidh asked Stef if she would care to join her in a final aerial tour by
cetus
of the area around the
colonia
site.
    Stef guessed she was maybe fifty, a little older than Movena, but a good deal younger than Stef herself. “I might have taken you for a Roman with that belt.”
    â€œThe
trierarchus
, Movena, remains independent of the Roman military command. I on the other hand am officially a tribune, an officer subordinate to the centurion. I am a kind of liaison between the two command structures. Complicated, I know, but it seems to work . . . As to the tour, we seek to complete our mappings of this place. And we have photographers, artists, to capture the likenesses of the structures left behind by the indigenes. We want to leave with some record of this world as it exists before the children of these Roman soldiers breed like rabbits and dismantle the fortress-mountains for building materials for their roads. I myself am a command officer but serve the
trierarchus
as a
druidh
, a scholar, hence my own interest. I have undergone some of the training . . . Will you come?”
    â€œI’d bite your hand off.”
    Eilidh pulled a face. “A vivid expression and oddly Roman. This was Movena’s idea; we would be fascinated by your response. We’ll be gone a couple of days. Bring what you need. We leave in an hour.”
    â€¢Â Â Â â€¢Â Â Â â€¢
    So, in the unvarying light of Romulus, and as trumpet blasts roused the Roman
colonia
from its slumber for the first watch of a new day, Stef stood side by side with Eilidh before the big observation window of one of the expedition’s two
cetus
airships, as the ground fell away beneath them. Stef looked for the small barracks block where Yuri was resting, with the ColU for company; Stef would be supported in her translation by the buds in her ears, themselves smart little gadgets.
    Eilidh gestured to the west, where mountains strode across the landscape. The sky was clear, and Romulus cast a pearly light that spun shadows across the mountain chain, sharp and unvarying. “Most of the interesting structures are to be found in the mountains. So that’s where we’ll make our way. This expedition is only a final reconnaissance. The Arab navigation team with their farwatchers, working from orbit, have mapped much of the planet. And with our two
cetus
craft, we’ve completed two circumnavigations, one equatorial from substellar to antistellar, and the other pole to pole. The farside is, of course, masked by ice, as are the shadow faces of all worlds like these, huddling close to their suns. But the air remains breathable, and there is life, and some structure.” She smiled. “I have spent happy hours with Centurion Quintus Fabius and his staff studying these maps, plotting the routes of roads yet to be built, ports and transport nodes to be founded at river confluences and estuaries—sketching the provinces to be carved out of these silent landscapes someday. There have even been war games, military exercises, as Quintus and his boys have imagined how to counter new Hannibals marching through those sculpted mountains.”
    â€œYou are Brikanti,” Stef said carefully. “I understand that Brikanti is a distinct nation. Independent of the Romans and their Empire.”
    Eilidh looked at her sideways. “You really do know nothing of us. Yes, Brikanti is an independent nation. The heartland is Pritanike, an island separated from the mainland of Europa, and therefore from the Romans’ ancient holdings.”
    Stef hazarded, “An island the Romans called Britannia?”
    â€œWell, they still do, in their arrogance. For most of our history we’ve traded with Rome peaceably enough. The Romans are the better soldiers; we are the better sailors. We build on the expertise of our Scand cousins, who have always been expert shipbuilders, back to the days