Trials of Apollo 5

“Is it necessary now?” Gunther asked.
“No,” Lu said. “The princeps has plans for them. He wants them alive.”
The princeps. My mouth tasted bitterer than the bitterest Amtrak coffee.
Being marched through Nero’s front door was not how I’d planned to
confront him.
One moment we were rumbling across a wasteland of New Jersey
warehouses and dockyards. The next, we plunged into darkness, entering the
tunnel that would take us under the Hudson River. On the intercom, a garbled
announcement informed us that our next stop would be Penn Station.
“I need to pee,” Meg announced.
I stared at her, dumbfounded. Was she really going to follow Lu’s strange
instructions? The Gaul had captured us and killed an innocent two-headed
snake. Why would Meg trust her?
Meg pressed her heel hard on the top of my foot.
“Yes,” I squeaked. “I also need to pee.” For me, at least, this was
painfully true.
“Hold it,” Gunther grumbled.
“I really need to pee.” Meg bounced up and down.
Lu heaved a sigh. Her exasperation did not sound faked. “Fine.” She
turned to her squad. “I’ll take them. The rest of you stay here and prepare to
disembark.”
None of the Germani objected. They’d probably heard enough of
Gunther’s complaints about potty patrol. They began shoving last-minute
Danishes into their mouths and gathering up their equipment as Meg and I
extracted ourselves from our booth.
“Your gear,” Lu reminded me.
I blinked. Right. Who went to the bathroom without their bow and
quiver? That would be stupid. I grabbed my things.
Lu herded us back into the gangway. As soon as the double doors closed
behind her, she murmured, “Now.”
Meg bolted for the quiet car.
“Hey!” Lu shoved me out of the way, pausing long enough to mutter,
“Block the door. Decouple the coaches,” then raced after Meg.
Do what now?
Two scimitars flashed into existence in Lu’s hands. Wait—she had Meg’s
swords? No. Just before the end of the gangway, Meg turned to face her,
summoning her own blades, and the two women fought like demons. They