The Last Roman (The Praetorian Series - Book I)

by Edward Crichton

  ***

  I spent the next few hours chatting with Varus and comparing notes on the situation, but I kept my theories to myself. By the time I left, Varus had learned little more about Remus’ message, but at least we had ended on good terms, and I found myself starting to like the little man. He was sharp and curious. He asked if I would teach him English, and in return, he would help me with my Latin. I told him I would enjoy that, and that I looked forward to the opportunity. When my escorts arrived to take me back home, I excused myself and left with them.

  Arriving at the house, I tossed Gaius and Marcus a quick salute, which they respectfully returned before opening the door and gesturing for me to head inside where I found a full house.

  The away team had returned.

  The team was sitting on the floor in a circle with a spot left for me. Noticing my arrival, Santino threw his arms in the air in a childlike greeting. “The prodigal son arrives,” he squealed.

  I looked at him squarely. “You realize the word, ‘prodigal,’ really only means that someone is bad with money, right?”

  Everyone looked at Santino, smiles on their faces. He glanced at his squad mates, wearing an embarrassed expression of his own.

  He looked at me. “I fucking hate you.”

  I smiled. “Love you too, buddy.”

  “If you two are done,” Vincent interrupted, trying not to grin, “we were just about to begin our after action report. Maybe you can fill us in on where you’ve been when we’re done.”

  “I’d be delighted, sir,” I said, sitting between him and Bordeaux.

  I noticed Helena sitting across from me, a downtrodden expression on her face. I made eye contact with her, and gave her a welcoming smile. Her expression brightened at my attention, but her face remained dour.

  Shifting my attention, I started things off. “So, you guys are back early.”

  Vincent nodded. “Our guide was very proficient. Thanks to his direction and the location of the camp residing well inland of where we expected it to be, we made much better time than planned. Upon arrival, we scouted the camp from a distance, identified the high value target and his tent, and located key points to lay our explosives. Early the following morning, we made our way to the camp, and rigged it to blow. Our goal was to create more confusion than casualties as well as direct their attention away from us. We had to eliminate two guards during our insertion, whom we hid in a tent. When first light hit, we synchronized the assassination with the triggering of our explosives. At 0535, Lieutenant Strauss fired upon the HVT, the bullet penetrating the target’s cranium. Lieutenant Bordeaux simultaneously triggered the explosive charges set around the camp, programmed on a timed sequence to detonate at random intervals.” He paused, taking a sip of water from his CamelBak. “We lingered only long enough to confirm the HVT was down and that hysteria had erupted in camp. Satisfied, we left at 0545, encountered zero resistance, and made our way back.”

  I nodded. A perfectly successful mission. The only negative outcome I could think of was some random archaeologist in two thousand years discovering what looks like a manufactured rifle bullet that was dated to have existed during the Roman Empire. I can only imagine the book he’d write trying to prove that time travel existed by theorizing that modern soldiers were sent back in time to fight history’s wars for them.

  I was sure he’d be considered a crack pot.

  “So, Hunter,” Vincent continued, “did you discover an answer to our problem with Caligula’s man?”

  I looked around the room again, meeting each of their gazes in turn. Each was expectant, hoping I had somehow learned how to get us home.

  “Well,” I began, “I’m pretty sure I’ve confirmed my theory on how we got here.”

  “Maybe you should start at the beginning,” ordered Vincent.

  So I started with Varus, and how he had contacted me to discuss our arrival in the city. I told them about the document, Remus, the she-wolf and Mars, how Varus and I were related, and how we were both descended from Remus. I ended with how my rubber band sphere theory still seemed the most likely cause of our arrival.

  Santino quickly spoke up. Wait, wait, wait,” he said, rubbing his head in confusion. “So, if what you’re saying is true, you’re…part… she-wolf? Or are you part god? It’s so hard to keep up with your stories sometimes, Jacob.”

  Everyone just stared at him.

  Bordeaux rested his head in a hand. “Merde,” was all he said

  “Santino, you really can’t be that stupid,” Wang ridiculed.

  Santino simply smiled.

  “He’s kidding,” I said. “But there’s more. As always. I also met Claudius, Caligula’s uncle and next emperor of Rome. It know that sounds backward, but that’s how it turns out. The important thing is that he is nothing like history paints him. History remembers him as sharp mentally, but weak, feeble, and physically twitchy, but he’s nothing of the sort. Tall, blond, good looking, but mentally deranged at best. He’s basically the Lex Luthor of the Roman Empire. Just with hair. I don’t trust him. The guy’s evil.”

  “Who’s Lex Luthor?” Helena asked.

  Santino rolled his eyes. “He’s Superman’s arch nemesis: billionaire, evil, scheming, plotting, bald. He’s the ultimate bad guy.” He sighed. “Women…”

  She shifted her attention back to me. “Why didn’t you just say that?”

  I tossed my hands in the air.

  “Whatever,” Vincent interrupted before I could say anything else. “We’ll keep him on our short list, but until we see him do something that contradicts what we know about history, we respect him like the rest of our benefactors.”

  “I like evil bad guys,” Santino offered. “Their inflated egos make for big targets.”

  “They’d need to be, considering how you shoot,” Wang quipped, another sign he was feeling better. Santino pushed him playfully, and laughed at his own expense.

  “An interesting day, then,” Vincent commented, “but we’ll worry about Roman politics later. Bordeaux, break out the MREs.”

  The Frenchman smiled, his look indicating he was famished as well. “Yes, sir.”

  I wasn’t hungry. Varus had some cheese, bread, and wine for us to snack on during our talk, so I headed to the small room I had been sharing with Helena. Finding my way to my bunk, I glanced around the room. Even though it was small, it had enough room for a few amenities, but I couldn’t help from smiling. While my uniforms were folded neatly, the rest of my stuff was disheveled and unorganized, whereas Helena’s gear and personal effects were neatly stacked, arranged, folded and organized. I guess it was a universal fact that no matter where you lived on Earth, or when, women were neater.

  I heard Helena’s voice from the doorway.

  “Isn’t it time you cleaned the house, dear?”

  I continued smiling. “Sorry, honey, but there’s a game on the TV and I can’t be bothered. Why don’t you go do the dishes?”

  She laughed. “Men. You’re all such lazy pigs.”

  “Can’t fault that logic,” I declared

  Helena moved into the room and sat on the edge of her bunk. She placed her meal in between our beds and waited as it cooked in its self-heating pouch. Like the flickering of a fire, the magnesium ignited water boiling within generally had a hypnotic property to it, but I ignored it, and turned toward Helena.

  “So how did the mission go? Really?”

  She shifted uneasily. “Do you always know when something’s wrong with people?”

  I shrugged. “I’ve had a lot of insecure girlfriends.”

  “I bet you have,” she said, retrieving her cooked meal. It smelled like the chicken with salsa entree, my favorite. She ate quietly, but quickly. What she had to say must have been important, but she needed her nourishment. I could understand why she didn’t want to be distracted. Finished, she placed the rest of the MRE’s contents in a pack, took a sip of water
from her CamelBak, folded her hands in her lap, and looked me square in the eyes.

  “I’m… sorry I didn’t tell you this before, and please try to forgive me, but I think there’s something else you should know.”

  “Oh, this should be good,” I said, sitting on my bed, propping myself up with my hands behind me.

  “Adminius was my first and only confirmed kill. In fact, he was the first man I’ve ever shot in cold blood…” she paused, “and up until that day in Syria, I had never even killed another human being before. I’m sorry.”

  She had to be joking. She was too good a shot to not have had years of practice. Every sniper knew shooting immaterial targets was completely different from shooting real people. It’s not just something you can pick up in a day. I had to call her bluff.

  “Yah right, Strauss. Next thing you’re going to tell me is that you were never even in the military.”

  She just looked at me, her expression completely deadpan. There was nothing amusing in her eyes.

  “You’re kidding, right?” I asked tentatively. “There’s no way… you couldn’t…you’ve been in for years. Killed dozens of targets.”

  Her eyes continued to stare right through me.

  I reclined onto my back, and started laughing. There was no other reaction I could think of. We’d gone into combat with a completely green rookie covering our backs, and still managed to survive. The situation was nothing, if not funny. I thought I was going to start crying from the laughter when my inappropriate reaction must have struck a chord with her.

  “This isn’t funny, Jacob. I was given my commission eight months before I came to Rome, and thrown into an accelerated basic and then KSK training program. My government knew they wouldn’t be able to get one of their own on the team, unless they could offer something no one else could. The Pope was only taking the most select people. That’s where I came in, a female who was also a good enough shot that they could mold me into a sniper, something no one else wanted to offer. They even shipped me off to the States to participate in one of your sniper schools. I don’t know why they did it all, since our identities will never be leaked to the public, but that’s what the Pope wanted, and that’s what he got.

  “When the GS9 agents came to my home and offered me the opportunity, I leapt at it. Like I told you, it was the first chance I had to get away from my life. I’m so sorry. I was forced to secrecy, but considering where we are, I felt the need to come clean. Everything else we’ve talked about is completely true. My father, hunting, Oxford, the Olympics, my fiancé. Everything.”

  Her speech left me with little else to do except stare at the ceiling, unsure how to respond. How could I trust her now when she had been so blatantly lying to me for so long? She was a stranger now, someone who’d broke the bonds of brotherhood and was someone I couldn’t trust or rely on. I rolled onto my side and faced away from her.

  “What do you want me to say?” I asked. “I forgive you? You didn’t do anything wrong? How can I do that? Any reason I may have had to trust you is gone.”

  It’s been my experience with women that they generally do things in unexpected and unpredictable ways. Many a time in a conversation, a woman will do something crazy. One comment will lead to reaction A, while a seemingly identical comment will result in reaction B, and at the end of the talk a completely different comment ends up eliciting reaction A again. It was completely insane and was pretty much the main reason I’d given up trying to understand women long ago. It was why, with my back turned away from Helena, I was completely unprepared for her unwarranted attack.

  Her body check rolled me off the bunk, throwing me against the wall and forcing me onto my back once again. She followed it up by leaping over my body and situating herself in the door frame, straddling me as she sat on my stomach. She then grabbed my head in both hands and pulled me close, as she in turn leaned in, her face inches away from mine.

  She stared at me, her eyes glistening like a cool beverage on a warm summer day. I tried to look away, but she pulled me even closer. With nothing else to do, I stared up at her and waited for what she had to say. I saw sadness there in her eyes, real sadness, the kind I had never seen there before, and my heart sank. It wasn’t fair of me to tell her I couldn’t trust her. Accelerated training or not, she’d still taken an oath. An oath she was now breaking. To make matters worse, her breaking of orders was nothing when compared to her emotionally sheltered life. To learn to trust me the way she did, only to have me turn my back on her now, must have been devastating. I was already regretting my flippant words.

  A minute passed, every second of silence devastating.

  “Jacob,” she whispered. “You have to trust me, because you…” she paused, choking back tears, “…because you’re the only person I trust. There’s no one else left.”

  She lowered my head back toward the floor, but the pain in her voice was more than enough to keep my eyes connected with hers. Her words were a plea for help from a girl, no, a person who’d lost control of her life. It sounded more familiar than I cared to admit, but it was true. She was lost here in ancient Rome and needed to hang on to whatever felt familiar. I felt the same way, only I was too proud to admit it.

  She hadn’t done anything wrong. She’d been under orders and it wasn’t fair of me to ridicule and berate her for it. She was right. I needed her more than I thought, and I wasn’t about to throw that away now.

  “Helena, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have been so flippant. I…” I tried to find the right words, “… I want to trust you, or at least try to for now. I hope you can forgive me.”

  Her green eyes continued to stare, but I felt her entire demeanor change as she let more of her weight sit on me.

  “I can,” she assured in a whisper. “Thank you.”

  With those words she brought her face closer to mine, hesitating only slightly at first, her wonderfully full lips puckering ever so slightly.

  This was it.

  The moment in all the movies where the hero finally scored and got the girl.

  It had to be.

  Boy, it was my lucky day.

  As our heads came together, my mouth centimeters from hers, so close I could feel her breath on my lips and the heat radiating off her cheeks, I heard the most annoyingly ill-timed commotion I had ever heard. It sounded like someone had broken down our front door and was pillaging our home.

  I looked up at Helena as she strained her head toward the door, trying to see what was happening. Gently, I placed my left hand alongside her cheek, shifting her face back toward mine.

  She smiled as she looked down at me and my mind went blank. I could only think of one thing to say. It was the most cliché line I had ever heard.

  “Rain check?”