***
Forty five minutes later, our column finally arrived. A simple stone cylinder, barely Doric in style, it was easily the width of a large oak tree, and twice as tall as Bordeaux. It would explode beautifully.
During that time, we were presented with our confiscated firearms, and had the opportunity to quickly inspect them and make sure they were ready for use. I had to admit, it felt good to have Penelope back in my hands, her reassuring weight doing wonders for my confidence. I pulled back the cocking mechanism and checked the ejection port for any kind of tampering or dirt buildup. It seemed clear, so I released the mechanism with a loud clank, resulting in murmurs spreading through the crowd. I turned to look at them, a nervous smile on my face, before returning my attention to my gear.
Caligula noticed our focused attention and returned to the railing. “While we are waiting,” he said impatiently, “why don’t you describe what these weapons do.”
Vincent nodded, pulling a magazine from a chest pouch, and extracting a bullet. “Of course. This,” he said, indicating his upheld M4, “is called a rifle. These are our primary weapons. Most of the ones we are using are of various designs and models, each having their own particular advantages and disadvantages. We all chose our particular rifles based on which one we felt suited us best. Each of our weapons fires a projectile, whose size is different depending on the rifle.”
He held up one of the bullets and demonstrated how he loaded it into a magazine.
“This small object is a bullet,” he said, always using the English terms to describe modern items. “We insert it into what we call a magazine, which holds multiple bullets. Then, to prime the weapon we insert the magazine thusly.”
He finished by ramming the magazine into the magazine well and pulled the cocking lever, feeding a round into the chamber. “The rifle is now ready to fire.”
“So, these… bullets,” Caligula said, having trouble wrapping his mouth around the foreign word, “are like the lead pellets used in slings? I ask, because while slings have their place on the battlefield, they are not the most effective projectile weapons. Additionally, they are only effective in mass barrages. What use are these bullets with only the six of you?”
Vincent smiled. “Patience, Caesar. Things will become very clear, very soon.”
Caligula mused over Vincent’s paternal tone, clearly annoyed. “What is that shiny object on your leg?” He asked, indicating his side arm.
“This is a pistol. We refer to it as a sidearm or secondary weapon. It too fires bullets, but with reduced efficiency. We use them as backups.”
“You carried that thing into my presence?”
“Yes, we did. Hopefully, the fact that we did not use them helps alleviate any fear or concern you may have toward us, for we could have at any time.”
“So you say, but I have yet to observe anything that leads me to fear these so called, ‘weapons’.”
Caligula was demonstrating more curiosity, tact, and intelligence than I had ever given him credit for, but that imperial arrogance was getting irritating.
When the column and legionary armor were finally in place, I couldn’t be more excited. Not because I thought this was a good idea, but because I really didn’t want all of Rome’s military might bearing down on us if we delayed too long.
Vincent walked over to the railing and held out his hands. “I suggest you wear these,” he said, holding small, foam ear plugs. “These will help muffle the noise of our weapons. They will be extremely loud.”
One of Caligula’s military men stepped forward and accepted the small gifts, nodding in thanks.
“Just squeeze them until they are flat, insert them in your ear, and allow them to expand. You will experience a slight drop in hearing ability, but trust me, you will appreciate it later.
The men and women struggled to insert the ‘foamies,’ which was understandable, since none of them had ever used anything remotely like them.
They were in for one hell of a surprise.
One of the men, a burly, older fellow, refused to use them at all, dropping them to the ground with a haughty laugh.
Content the spectators were adequately protected, Vincent joined Santino, Wang, and me in a firing line twenty feet from our targets. Helena and Bordeaux sat off to the side, saving their particular skills for later. We three shooters glanced over at Vincent’s position, waiting for the go ahead. Each of us made eye contact, acknowledging his unspoken question with smug looks.
Turning his head, he spoke to the grandstand. “With your permission?”
Caligula waved a hand dismissively.
Vincent offered a small smirk of his own. “All right. One magazine each. Don’t worry too much about accuracy. Fire in controlled bursts, but do it quickly. Understood?”
There was a chorus of affirmatives.
“Open fire!” Vincent bellowed.
A half second later, we unleashed a hailstorm of fire that echoed throughout the city. We fired in controlled bursts, as ordered, but it seemed like one continuous stream of rifle fire with the four of us shooting in tandem. The suits of armor, set up on stands that we requested be anchored to the ground, were permeated with a hundred little holes and one even fell over.
The Romans’ reaction was laughably predictable. Every single hand went directly to their ears, and the man who had thrown his earplugs on the ground went diving after them. Some of the men almost fled and most of the women did. Curiously, the extremely attractive blond did not, and instead sat there calmly with her hands lightly cupping her ears. Even Caligula had his hands to his ears, but did a pretty good job of maintaining his imperial demeanor.
Not twenty seconds later, with our magazines spent, we unloaded, put our guns on safe, and admired our handiwork. Not a bad clustering for a couple of Special Forces fellows. The dummies would have been dead a dozen times over. We gathered up the mutilated armor, and brought them before the Romans for their inspection.
Vincent described what it was they were seeing. “As you can see, our weapons are quite formidable, more so than a simple sling. Just one or two of these holes could kill a man. Additionally, we can carry at any given time at least three hundred rounds of ammunition each, and can easily wield more if necessary. The lethality of our weapons is also high at ranges far greater than those you just witnessed.”
Caligula inspected one of the gaping holes with a probing finger. His jaw was slightly ajar, amazed at our rifles’ stopping power. “What is the range of your weapons?”
“They can easily surpass the range of your arrows, which we will demonstrate next. If you will please, have someone place that large piece of fruit on the highest level of the arena, at the farthest end.”
“Impossible. That distance is too far to hit such a small target.”
“Are you sure?”
He thought about it for a second, glancing at the ruined sets of armor.
“No.”
Ten minutes later, the piece of fruit high above the rest of us, Helena and I sat down to take aim. We ran through the calculations quickly, and while she wasn’t using the Barrett, her DSR-1 was more than able to reach the mark. Another ten minutes later, the piece of fruit exploded in a shower of sticky fruitiness. This time, the Romans applauded. Even Caligula joined in.
Helena and I joined Vincent near the podium.
“An impossible shot! Miraculous. And from a woman! How is that a female has the same skills and status as a man in the realm of warfare among your people?”
“What did he say?” Helena whispered, clearly aware of his attention on her.
I wasn’t exactly sure, but I got the gist of it. “You don’t want to know.”
“Where we come from, pure strength isn’t the only prerequisite needed for war,” Vincent informed. “Many more aptitudes are required, and while women comprise only a small minority in our militaries, their presence is still noticeable and appreciated
.”
Caligula thought this over for a few minutes before nodding. I wasn’t sure if he simply understood or shared our sentiments, but considering what he just saw, he didn’t need to.
“And what are you to conclude with?”
“You have seen our primary weapons at work, but to facilitate our needs, we can call on many other pieces of equipment to aid us in battle. One is an explosive device able to obliterate extremely large and durable objects.”
“Are you referring to that small brick I saw your very large man place on the column?”
“Indeed, and if you would be so helpful,” Vincent said, holding out the detonation device, nothing but a small box with a trigger, “when I say all is clear, squeeze the two pieces of this box together, and you shall see.”
Caligula accepted the device, turning it over in his hand, before nodding to Vincent.
Vincent turned to Bordeaux. “Ready?”
“Oui, but I suggest we move everyone to the far end of the arena.”
Once Vincent requested everyone do so, we were ready to go. Vincent gave the go ahead, and Caligula squeezed the detonator. Across the arena, the column exploded in a plume of dust and debris. The explosion ballooned well above the walls of the arena, sending a shower of marble in all directions, and the sound was deafening. It seemed as though Bordeaux used a bit too much C-4, but I’m sure it was purposeful. He just wanted to make a big bang, something all demolition men took way too much pride in. I always figured they were overcompensating for something.
After the debris cloud settled, and a few of the Romans had returned from their hiding spots, some not returning at all, Vincent turned toward Caligula, a slight smile on his mouth.
“Well? Have we satisfied your interests, Caesar?”
Caligula continued to stare at the ruined column, barely recognizable after its explosive ending. For a second I thought he was going to declare us evil sorcerers and have us crucified, but soon his face softened.
His eyes met Vincent’s, his look of superiority gone. “You have, indeed. I will order a team to recover your fallen comrade, and then we shall talk about how you may best serve the glory of Rome.”
The Last Roman (The Praetorian Series - Book I) Page 37
