"They really changed the lock," said Clodius Afer, who had moved up to the tribune's side unnoticed at some point during the address. "He couldn't go through it himself now."

The old commander was noticeably careful to keep the armored bulk of a guard between him and even sight of the men who had been under his direction. When Vibulenus caught his eye, the slim figure ducked his head to ignore the contact. They were no more than a pace apart when the blue-clad officer skipped out of the room. The guard who had shielded him followed impassively.

"Bet his bosses don't need a sponge to wipe their ass so long as he's around," Clodius muttered.

"What do ye figure we do now, boss?" Helvius asked the centurion. The four of them were almost alone now at the front of the Main Gallery while the remainder of the legion shuffled out the rear. "Now," said Vibulenus clearly, "we go see the women." He wondered how badly the lower part of his abdomen had been injured, but nothing in the world would have caused him to lift the hem of his tunic now and see what was dyed red.

"Bad as when they first announced it," grumbled Clodius. "Line'd slimmed down by yesterday, and we'd be fine now 'cept for them making such a point in the assembly."

"Well, it moves real quick, the line does," said Niger.

That was true, for they had continued to advance at a walking pace even after they reached the end of the line of soldiers intent on using the women.

"How-" Vibulenus began. He meant to add, -'much farther are the rooms?' because the corridor curved and it was impossible to see the front of the line. But there were no landmarks on the vessel and possibly no fixed locations, so his companions could have no better idea than he as to how far they had yet to go.

Instead, the tribune said, "How many of the girls are there, then?"

The non-coms looked at one another with an unexpected furtiveness. "Sir," said the centurion with his eyes fixed on a point on the wall, "I couldn't rightly say, but it's a good number. Thing is, I like't' keep the lights down, you know, and-and anyway, it's the part of a woman that's the same that's important, not whatever little ways they may be different."

"That's so," said Helvius with a ponderous lift of his eyebrows. "By Apis and Osiris, that's just so."

"Look, just what-" Vibulenus said, falling into his tone of command without precisely intending to do so.

Clodius interrupted him, or at least thundered on when they began to speak together, with: "There, all right, there's the door."

The speed troubled Vibulenus. The line was moving as fast as men could pass two at a time through the open portal at the end of this corridor. Sure, horny soldiers… but not that horny by now, the men who had been alert for the three days he had spent in the egg-shaped room unconscious.

Unalive.

Thinking about that took the tribune's mind off immediate questions. His companions seemed happy enough to leave him in bleak silence, though Niger muttered something uncomfortably to the centurion.

The legionary directly ahead of Vibulenus stepped into a cubicle the size of those in the Sick Bay. Instead of a door closing, the opening dimmed as if curtained with silken gauze. The soldier did not move, but either the floor or the whole cubicle shifted to the left with him. Simultaneously, the identical unit in front of Clodius Afer slid to the right and the diffraction smoothed from the air. The cubicles were empty.

"Go ahead, sir," said Clodius Afer. He paused, then stepped off a half beat behind the tribune.

Vibulenus was familiar enough with the ways of the vessel that he did not expect to feel concern now, even though it was not the crib that he had expected. The cubicles' similarity to the Medic's array, and the baggage that memory brought with it, froze him into quiescence. Without the centurion's request, he might not have moved at all, though it was without fear that he obeyed what his mind took to be an order.

The screen that appeared behind the tribune did not affect the muted lighting he perceived within the cubicle. Instead of a feeling of motion sideways, the wall in front of him seemed to slide upward. He stepped into the room beyond, small but not the closet he had more or less expected. Military brothels were no more spacious than barracks accommodations.

The room was lighted by what was little more than a red dot in one of the upper corners, but it was enough to show that the woman reclining on her left arm was full formed and had hair long enough to spill over the edge of the couch. "Hello," she said in a throaty, feminine voice. "You must be one of the tribunes, huh? I'm Quartilla."

"I-" said Vibulenus. He glanced down at the striped hem of his garment, almost black in this light. It was a sign of social rather than military rank, but no member of the equestrian order would be serving as a common soldier. She was sharp, which made the business all the more confusing, and her Latin was far too good for anyone but a true Roman.

"You can come sit down with me if you like," Quartilla offered. She sat upright with a seemingly effortless sway that brought her knees around and lifted magnificent breasts while her dark hair swirled behind her. She patted the couch.

In a-business-like this one, serving the needs of men whose lust would turn to fury if frustrated by delay, there couldn't be leisure. There should have been a pimp outside the entrance of the crib, itself doorless to hasten the operation. Here of course there was no need to collect the money, a sesterce or two, in advance, but one of the toadfeced bodyguards should have hulked at the entrance to prevent jostling and to jerk out of the crib any soldier who made excessive demands on the whore or her time.

There was no jostling because there was no significant delay. And there was clearly no concern about time…

"How can they do this?" Vibulenus asked as he seated himself gingerly beside the woman. His intellectual curiosity was competing with his body's requirements.

His full erection proved that he need have no concern about that aspect of the repairs made to his body, and the dim, colored light hid the stain on his flesh.

"Are there so many of you?" he continued, reaching around the woman's shoulders. He was sure that if he touched her breast as he first intended he would lose at least his ability to hear her answer. She was wearing a garment after all, a hard fabric that fit like a second skin but which had enough irregularity to whisper when the tribune stroked her hair against it.

"Time passes more quickly in these rooms," Quartilla said, running a chubby hand over the skin of Vibulenus' throat and the neck of his tunic. "Aging too, of course, but that doesn't matter to you. Don't worry, we won't be disturbed."

She kissed the tribune's mouth while her gentle hand drew him to her. He cupped her breast-foil, of course, but not as heavy as expected-and wondered whether he could get out of his tunic.

The breast was covered by minute hard nodules.

"W-," Vibulenus said. He fumbled for her other hand, the one that was reaching under the hem of his tunic. "Wait."

He took a deep breath-it had no effect on his sudden dizziness-and asked, "Quartilla. What are you wearing?" With difficulty he raised his eyes to meet hers.

"Nothing at all, sir," the woman said, smiling as she moved her body again with amazing fluidity. Her knees spread wide and she rocked back on the base of her spine to lift her vulva. "What would you like me to wear? Anything can be provided."

The light was faint, but it was so close to being a point source that it threw a reticulated pattern across the female's skin when she moved. That net of shadows was caused by the tiny roughness the tribune had felt. Now that his eyes were adapting, he could see that Quartilla was covered by Vibulenus leaped to his feet, instinctively ready to strike the female if she tried to hold him. "Light!" he shouted. "Give me light, curse you!"