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tongue now. Can you understand me?”
    Stef heard this only indistinctly, from Yuri’s earphone; Movena’s natural tongue, sounding like Danish with a lilt, dominated her hearing.
    Michael said, “Say something in your own speech.”
    Stef grinned. “If you damage that earphone, I’ll break your arm.”
    â€œHa! Remarkable.” He passed back the earphone, which Stef quickly replaced in her ear.
    And Yuri coughed, suddenly. Stef saw that he was leaning on a low rampart wall, and she felt a stab of concern for him.
    Michael pushed forward. “Please, let me see if I can help you . . .”
    Movena turned to Stef. “Is your companion ill?”
    â€œNot that I’m aware of.”
    â€œThe Greek is an excellent physician—far better than these Romans deserve. He will help, if help is possible.” As the doctor approached Yuri, Movena drew Stef aside. “Now listen to me.”
    â€œYes?”
    â€œI command not only the ship on this mission. I am senior woman. Quintus Fabius has agreed to this.”
    â€œSenior woman?”
    Movena sighed. “Do you know soldiers?”
    â€œI was one myself.”
    Movena raised her eyebrows. “Very well. Then you will know how soldiers behave—how they have always behaved. The men, anyhow. In the Roman system, you see, the army is all; their navy is essentially a branch of the army. Whereas in our system it is the other way around. Which is why our systems mesh together so well, when we aren’t arguing, Romans and Brikanti.
    â€œBut you need to understand that these Romans are primarily soldiers, and that is how they think of themselves. Most of these legionaries, especially the older ones, have served in war, on conventional military missions—most will probably have seen service in the last Valhallan campaigns against my own people in the northern continent, a war ‘concluded’ with the latest flawed attempt at a treaty, but probably flaring again by now. And in the south the Romans’ uglier wars with the Xin grind on . . . In such wars, women are booty. Or targets, their bodies a battleground after the men have fallen. Do you understand? Now,
this
is not a war of conquest; there are no enemies to defeat here, human or otherwise. Nothing to rape and kill. And of course the men have been able to bring their wives and sweethearts, even their children. Such is the way of it—for if you sent a shipful of Roman soldiers off on a year-long mission, alone without women, they’d have buggered each other senseless before killing each other over the favors of the prettiest standard-bearers before they got past Augustus.”
    â€œAugustus?”
    She frowned. “The seventh planet of the sun . . . Where
do
you come from? But, look, even with female companions available, men are men, soldiers are soldiers—and women are targets, the slaves, the celibate servant girls of the
vicarius
of Christ, even their comrades’ wives and daughters. You, my dear, are not so old nor so ugly that you are safe.”
    â€œThanks.”
    â€œAnd so we protect each other. As I said, I am senior woman. If you have trouble of that sort, come to me.”
    â€œI can look after myself.”
    â€œGood. Do so, and come to me when you fail. Is that clear?”
    â€œYes. Thank you.”
    â€œVery well. Now we should pay attention to these little boys with their quarrel . . .”
    â€¢Â Â Â â€¢Â Â Â â€¢
    Quintus Fabius’s voice boomed out, cutting through the arguments. “Titus Valerius, you old rogue! At last you show your face. I might have known you were behind all this trouble.”
    Through the crowd, Stef could see one of the legionaries being pushed, apparently reluctantly, to the front of a mob of unhappy men. He was burly, with his bare head shaved close, a grizzled gray—and, Stef saw, one arm terminated in a stump,