Daniel Ottalini - Roma Aeronautica

“So, aspirant, you come before us seeking entrance into the Athenae Roma Aeronautica to join in the service of the emperor as a member of our grand airfleet,” Chief Judge Florentinus Amelius said solemnly to the mostly empty room.

To his left and right, four other judges sat in semi-boredom. No doubt the stifling heat of the midsummer afternoon wore upon their mostly overweight and corpulent forms. Overhead, the weak breeze blowing down from the wheezing fans provided no relief from the temperature. The judges were tired, cranky, probably half-drunk, and looking for any excuse to leave early. The boy was the last applicant to the now-famed Aeronautica , the training school of all Roman aviators, and everyone was eager to go home.

“Aspirant, do you have anything to say for yourself before I read your application?” the chief judge asked sternly, looking down on the scrawny, tow-headed child standing before him.

The boy fidgeted, fingers playing at the hem of his neatly arranged toga. His hair had not survived his mother’s attempts to straighten it. Amelius had seen the boy and his family in the hallway when the large doors were pulled open, his mother running a comb through his hair in a last ditch effort to smooth it out.

With a slight shake of his head, Amelius looked down at the file before him. Although he knew that the other judges had the same file and were most likely reading it now, he chose to read aloud for everyone’s benefit.

“Aspirant Rufius Tiveri Cassi Alexandros, descendent of Garus Nero Cassi Alexandros, descendent of…” Amelius paused, double-checking his file as one of the surnames rang a bell.

“Is this correct?” he asked the court secretary incredulously. He pointed to the questionable statement.

The man sifted quickly through his notes, the sound of his shuffling parchment all that could be heard over the fans and shallow breathing of the judges. “Yes, Your Judgeship, that is the correct notation,” the secretary intoned.

Pompous bureaucrat, Amelius thought as he continued reading, glancing at the child to see his reaction.

“You are a descendent of Gaius Cassius Longinus. Well, my boy, that is quite a lineage. A descendent of the traitor of Rome himself, seeking entrance into our august institution.” He looked down at the child. “Tell us why you think you should be allowed to serve,” Amelius stated flatly.

The boy froze up for a moment, although the question had probably been on his mind from the moment he applied to the academy. His voice was quiet as he spoke his reply.

“I… I wish to serve the empire. It has been hundreds of years, more than a thousand, since my ancestor rose up against what he perceived to be tyranny. I understand why my family has been blacklisted for so long, but I am not my ancestor.” His response revealed a child with intelligence and understanding beyond his years.

There’s spirit there. Carefully controlled, but there.

“Pah! Absurd. The Cassi must keep their surnames so that all Rome may know and remember who tried to destroy our empire in its infancy. Surely, Florentius, you’ll not break with tradition?” Pentus Astoragas’s nasally voice pulled Amelius’s attention to the right end of the bench. The former airfleet captain leaned back, boots on his desk, as he lackadaisically fanned himself with a sheaf of paper and yawned. “Dismiss the lad and we’ll finish the day ahead of schedule.”

“The seed of treachery can take many years to bloom,” came the voice of Garus Miletosinos, the white-haired historian of the panel. “While not present now, treachery, ambition, and vengeance have a way of returning at the least expected, and most disastrous, moments.”

Amelius looked at the child. The boy stared at the panel, then down at his feet. His face was a mix of embarrassment and frustration. Finally, he looked up and locked eyes with the chief judge.

“Sir,” he began. “I believe I would be an excellent candidate and cadet. I am familiar with the latest airship technology, have stellar remarks from my instructors at my academia, and would be an exceptionally motivated cadet.” He colored again slightly before looking back at his feet.

Amelius returned his gaze to the sheaf of papers before him.

“Your marks are exemplary, and your recommendations are glowing,” he stated grudgingly. The room was silent for a moment, then something shifted slightly to Amelius’s left. Quintus Heratus quietly scribbled on one of the many pieces of paper on his desk before passing him a note. Amelius scanned it quickly.

“Are you sure, Quintus?” Amelius asked sotto voce.

Quintus nodded.

“Before we take a final vote, I must ask you one last question, Rufus Tiveri. Let us say you are on a ship, as a captain. You are tasked with saving the life of a legatus , a lord of the empire, perhaps even the primus imperio himself. For some reason, the crew mutinies, demanding the head of the officer. What do you do?”

The boy looked thoughtful as Amelius sat back slightly and waited.

“First, it would never happen with my crew,” the boy stated. “My crew would be treated with respect and trust, not with harshness and punishments. Second, if such a situation were to occur, I would have the legate escape using one of the emergency drop lines. Or, I would crash-land the ship in an effort to allow the lord to escape.”

Amelius was impressed. He does not sound arrogant at all when talking about his crew, but I wonder how a real ship would do under him .

“Sir, if I may?” The boy seemed to have gathered his courage for one last comment.

Ameilus nodded.

“I know that my ancestry can be a mark against my family’s honor. But I implore you to give me a chance to prove myself. I will pass whatever tests you require, just for that chance.” He bowed low, then thanked them.

“All right, all right, let’s vote already,” Astoragas said impatiently. “I vote no. Can’t have little Cassi brats infiltrating the airfleet. First one, then more!”

“No,” Garus Miletosinos said, hardly looking up from his paperwork.

“Yes,” Quintus Heratus said forcefully, smiling warmly at the boy.

The room was silent for a moment as the small group of bureaucrats waited for the last two votes. By tradition, the chief judge voiced his opinion last, so it could be said he was not influencing any of the others.

“Vorentius?” Amelius turned to his right and prodded the sleeping judge with his foot.

“Who? What? Vote? Yes… of… of course!” Vorentius Ilsotus said with a flourish before closing his eyes and beginning to snore again. Sighing, Amelius realized it was once again up to him to be the deciding vote.

“You put this panel in a difficult situation. You are right in the idea that all men ought to have a chance to forge their own destiny. But you are wrong in thinking that your family name should be discounted. Take my advice lad, do not forget that name, but turn it into something to make you stronger. Quintus here has vouched for you, and this does carry some weight with me. I’m still convinced this is a mistake, but I do believe in chances.”

He signed his name on the line at the bottom of the application, then handed it down to his secretary.

“Welcome to the Athenae Roma Aeronautica , Cadet Alexandros. And remember: there are no second chances in the Athenae , for once you are out, you are out. Rome does not forget.”

The boy bowed deeply, then turned smartly and left the hall through the same doors that had granted him entrance. He thanked the guards as they opened the doors for him. Even Amelius could see the pep in his step as he exited the hall.