Following her in, I pulled my gear bags in behind me, and shut the hatch. The space in the cylindrical airlock was cramped and tight, forcing us to float chest to chest, inches apart. I grasped the ladder with my right hand and right foot, while Helena did the same with the appendages on her left side. With my left hand, I grabbed a crowbar from its resting place and pounded the inner hatch three times, and waited until the water started to slowly drain from the compartment.
As the water passed my face I pulled back my hood and removed my goggles and breathing apparatus as Helena did the same.
“Tight squeeze,” I said, adjusting my position, accidentally bumping my elbow against her breasts.
She glared, and I looked around, trying to ignore her look while also trying to find any way to make the water go faster. Failing, we endured a few more moments of uncomfortable silence before the inner hatch finally opened.
“After you,” I offered.
Helena gave me a smirk before descending a few steps, lowering her gear to the deck, and dropping behind it. I followed quickly.
I landed in a crouch, stood and moved aside to let Helena close the inner hatch while I keyed my radio. In order to stay efficient and silent on the battlefield, instead of speaking into the radio to confirm orders, or signal an all clear, we simply clicked the PTT button twice in quick succession, an efficient way to indicate all was well on the other end of the radio. The double click could mean many things depending on the situation, but McDougal would understand that I had sent it as an all clear to send in the next pair.
After sending the transmission, I turned to face the two seaman emerging from the hatch to my left. The pair wore British naval uniforms, midshipmen according to their rank insignias, and had the look of men who spent way too much time under the water. Noticing my inspection, the pair halted and saluted.
“Welcome aboard the H.M.S Triumph, Lieutenant.”
I returned the salute. “Thanks for the warm welcome.”
After securing the hatch, Helena turned and stood next to me.
The pair’s immediate reaction was to salute a second time, but with obvious hesitation. These men probably hadn’t seen a woman in months, especially not one that looked like Helena, who was looking especially radiant with her damp hair and face.
“Welcome aboard the Triumph, Ma’am.”
“Thank you,” she replied.
“Our orders are to escort you to the briefing room after your team has had an opportunity to change out of your wetsuits and secure your gear. If you will just follow the corridor through the hatch we just came through, the second door on your right will be your staging area. You can head there now if you’d like.”
“Thank you,” I replied as I gestured to the hatch for Helena to go through first. “Lieutenant, after you.”
She offered me a cynical smile and bumped me playfully on her way to the hatch. The two midshipmen watched, tilting their heads to watch as she bent at the waist to fit through. I had to chuckle as I watched as well, a slight feeling of possessive pride passing over me. It reminded me of a time back in college when I attended a party with a foreign exchange student from France. She had been beautiful, and every guy there hated my guts because of it – even if the relationship hadn’t amounted to much.
My arms crossed against my chest, I glanced over at the two seamen who looked at me, jealousy in their eyes, the silent one of the two arching an eyebrow suggestively. I let out a quick laugh before placing a hand on the inquisitive man’s shoulder.
“I wouldn’t go there, my friend,” I told him, pointing at my black eye. “Trust me.”
Whether he thought I was threatening him, or merely reaffirming his fears that he had no chance, his shoulders slumped in defeat.
Releasing his shoulder, I followed after Helena.
Halfway through, I heard the inner hatch open and two men drop to the floor.
“Welcome aboard the…”
The man didn’t get a chance to continue before Santino cut him off. “Yeah, yeah, now where’s this ‘tea’ I’ve heard so much about?”
***
It took fifteen minutes for the last of the team to cycle through the airlock, and another twenty before we had our gear in lockers, had our wetsuits hung up, and had changed into duty gear the crew had provided for us.
Gathered in the small briefing room, the team waited and chatted while we waited for our briefing to begin. Joining the team was the sub’s skipper, Captain Billings, whose physicality could have in no way better fit the role of a sub commander. He was short in stature and thin like a runner, a perfect build for the cramped confines of a submarine. His square jaw and perpetual five o’clock shadow gave him a roguish look that the ladies probably loved. I couldn’t help but notice Helena’s interest, which was probably more annoying than it should have been.
Don’t be jealous, Jacob, she’ll probably never see him again.
Jealous? What the hell is wrong with you? She’s the one who almost knocked you out.
Shut up. Just shut up.
I tried to distract myself by probing my damaged eye, which was still black, and hurt like hell. At least Santino seemed to think it was funny.
The thought of my troublesome friend brought my eyes across the aisle towards him. I found him already looking at me, flicking his eyes in Billings’ direction, then over at Helena, giving me another one of his annoying smiles.
He’ll never let me live this down.
Still, despite his antics, I appreciated his attention. It reminded me that I had a friend. Someone I could rely on. Even if he was an arrogant jackass. So I did what any good friend would do and took a rubber band from my briefing packet, and loaded it around my fingers. Taking careful aim, I fired, nailing him right between the eyes. One of his hands reactively flung to his forehead to ease the sting, and he gave me the same glare he’d offered earlier when I kicked his chair out from beneath him.
I couldn’t help but chuckle.
“Something funny, Hunter?”
I glanced over at Helena, whose interest was now on me instead of Billings. “Hmm? Oh, nothing. Just Santino being Santino.”
She leaned forward to see him rubbing his struck forehead, mumbling.
“You two have a history don’t you?”
“Oh, yeah,” I sighed. “We certainly do.”
“Oooh, I feel a story coming,” she replied excitedly, clutching her hands together between her thighs and shrugging her head between her shoulders, giving me an uncharacteristically childish smile.
Cute. Annoying. But cute.
I sighed again, realizing I owed her a story. I was doubly annoyed because I knew I couldn’t just end this one with Santino. It was about more than just him.
“In a nut shell,” I began after taking a long breath, “his Delta squad was cut off from extraction while on an op in North Korea. We were assigned as their standby unit and were sent in to pull their asses out if they got in trouble. They did, and my team was ambushed in the process of rescuing them, and we were cut off from Santino and his men. Through a stroke of pure luck, our two positions ran into one other. The momentary confusion on the enemy’s part gave us the time we needed to get the hell out of there. But on our way out, I was shot in the leg. Twice. In the same damn leg. The wounds were pretty bad and I was losing a lot of blood. Possible arterial bleeding. I never knew and never asked afterwards, but I had known that I was done for when a bad guy blundered onto me as I laid there dying.”
I had to pause and close my eyes as the flashback forced me to recall one of the most horrible memories I had. My hand instinctually moved to my thigh to massage the area where I’d been hit. The scars on that leg remained, and were not pretty.
“He pointed his gun at my face and started to taunt me, laughing all the while. I’d lost my rifle after hitting the ground, and my pistol was inaccessible. A few seconds later, he shot me in the arm.” My hand now moved to massage the area just above the elbow on my left arm. “Just for the
hell of it. It was at that point that I knew I was going to die. Even thought I saw some angels. But, the next thing I know, Santino was there, ramming his knife through the back of the man’s throat, severing his spinal column. Guy died instantly. That’s where he does his best work, you know, up close. Santino’s as quiet as a ghost and even scarier than one with a knife.”
Helena nodded, waiting for me to continue.
“Anyway, we didn’t really know each other yet. We’d only met once during a cross training operation a year back. We were barely acquaintances. Even so, he came back for me. He slapped on a few field bandages, picked me up, and pulled my fat out of the fire. He even found my rifle for me.”
“For such a free spirited asshole, he seems like a good man to have your back.”
“He’s the best,” I said wholeheartedly. “I spent three months in the hospital where we ended up. Santino was assigned to a training detail on the base at the same time and he came to visit every day. I always wondered if he used some of that Delta pull to swing the training detail, but he’d never tell me if he did. We just sat there every chance we got playing cards and video games, cracking jokes at lame day time soap operas and shooting the shit. We became instant friends. I’ll never make a better one if I live a dozen lives.”
I smiled, remembering the days as Santino became one of my best friends, before sighing a third time, my mind wandering to the rest of the time I spent in the hospital. The time I’d spent in the company of someone else as well.
A few minutes ago, I’d thought about telling Helena the rest of this story, but now, I wasn’t so sure. The second half began the day I awoke from my surgery, and was assigned a very attractive nurse to take care of me. It was a story I hadn’t told anyone before, and even Santino didn’t know the full extent of it. That nurse changed the way I looked at my life.
After a few sessions of rehab where we had to work very close together, it was obvious the nurse was interested, and so was I. After a few weeks, our time together transcended the typical patient/care giver relationship and bloomed into something more. During my recuperation, we would go on long walks and spend hours in the gym together rehabbing my injury. I remembered how every day when she came to my room, Santino would just sit there as she completely ignored him, tending to my ever need.
I sighed to myself while Helena waited patiently for me to continue.
I’d never grown closer to a woman than I did during those few months. Relationships had never been my strong suit, but somehow she and I just clicked. I fell hard for her, and even though I couldn’t explain it, I rolled with it. I was completely unphased by the fact that I knew we’d probably never see each other again after I returned to active duty. The war had barely just begun and the average life expectancy of service men and women deployed in the field shortened every day.
I’d only known her two months by the time I’d thought about proposing. Thought about it, sure, but never really put much actual thought into going through with it. Deep down, I knew it couldn’t last. The world was too confusing and bigger than either one of us, and I knew we could never be together. Sooner or later, I would have to leave and she would have to stay. Even with thoughts of marriage in mind, I tried my hardest to keep our relationship to a minimum, but it grew too fast for us both.
After I was finally discharged, I knew it was over.
When she and Santino carted me out in a wheelchair, the nurse helped me out of it while Santino went to pack the taxi. Neither one of us knew what to say, and we just stood there looking at each other. After a few seconds, still not knowing what to say, she threw herself into my arms and gave me a kiss that held us there for minutes. When she pulled away, she told me she hoped to see me again, but I knew even she didn’t believe her own words. I said goodbye as strongly as I could, which only managed to be little more than a whisper. She put on a brave face, but as I watched her retreat back to the hospital, I noticed a trail of tears tracing her steps like fat rain drops on the pavement.
It had all been like a fairy tale until that point.
Thinking about those happy, but inevitably painful few months did little to lighten my mood now. Those days could have been better. It’s why I hated this story. It was like one of those dreams where everything was so perfect, and you felt so happy, only to wake up and realize that it was all just a dream and your life was everything but.
I had to live that dream.
In any other place, in any other situation, we could have had a kid by now, living a quiet life. I remember sending her flowers with a note that said to look me up if she was ever in Hawaii, but I knew I’d never see her again.
As I played the story over in my head, I found myself staring at the back of the chair in front of me. My gaze was interrupted by Helena waving a hand in front of my face.
“Hello… Jacob…” she said. “Anybody home?”
I jerked my head in response and turned to look at her.
“What?” I asked.
“I believe you were about to finish your story. You and Santino were in a hospital?”
I turned away and took a deep breath, letting it out slowly.
No. I couldn’t tell her quite yet.
“Sorry, Helena,” I said looking back at her, “but the rest of that story can wait for another time.”
Her eyebrows scrunched in confusion, probably wondering what could be so personal that I couldn’t tell her after she’d so readily offered her own story. She opened her mouth to inquire further, but she never got a chance to finish her question before Billings began his briefing.
“All right, mates,” his voice, from an American’s perspective, was a typical British drawl, “I’ll try and keep this short. I know you’ve already been briefed on your specific mission parameters, so I’ll key you in on the operational position of my sub.”
Billings pulled up a map of the Mediterranean Sea on a monitor, and zoomed in on the Eastern coast where we would be making our insertion. The map looked similar to the one McDougal had presented earlier.
“We’ll be dropping you off here,” he said, indicating a point on the map with a laser pointer, “a few miles off the shore line. Once you disembark, you’ll be on your own. Our presence here is completely off the grid. We’re not even supposed to be in the Mediterranean.”
He manipulated the map to show the satellite imagery of the port we were going to hit. The image showed a shabby town, looking typical for the impoverished area. The port had numerous ships docked, cargo ships mostly, but no military gear.
“This image was downloaded ten minutes ago from an Argos II Surveillance Satellite that will remain in geosynchronous orbit throughout the duration of the mission. The port has little to no military presence that we can see, and intelligence and satellite imagery confirms there won’t be any guards in the area. Your target ship just docked, but unloading isn’t scheduled until later tonight. Your contact in town is part of the crew, so our information should be accurate.”
He shifted the image again, zooming out and eastward towards the town.
“As you can see, the town is quite the opposite of the port and is crawling with armed guards, patrols, and picket points. Intel suggests this activity is normal for the area, so expect plenty of resistance should it come to a firefight. When it’s time to leave, you will need to get back to the port so we can pick you up. We’ll have a team waiting to bring you back to the Triumph. Chopper extraction is out of the question as resources in the area are negligible.”
That last part caused me to wince. Even if things go completely by the book, and we accomplish our mission goals without alerting anyone, extraction will still be the most difficult part. Commandeering a vehicle will be difficult without alerting any guards, especially if that image was right, and the bad guys had check points set up. Picking up Helena would only complicate matters, but if we had to come out guns blazing, having her covering our asses would be invaluable.
“If there are no other questions, we’re
done here. We’ll be arriving at our drop off point in thirty five hours. Until then, my ship is yours. Questions?”
The Praetorians were silent
“Well then. Good luck, chaps.”
IV
War
Mediterranean Sea, Syrian Coast
July, 2021
The next day, we were once again in our wetsuits and awaiting the go ahead to get our feet wet. The past day had been relatively uneventful, a first for me these days. I spent the time chatting with Santino and my new teammates, exercising, resting, and making sure my gear was ready to go, all of which was once again safe in its water proof bag.
To get off the sub, we were going out the same way we came in, through the top hatch. Helena and I were first out and were well on our way to removing the CRRC from the sub’s external equipment locker by the time Vincent and Santino pressurized the hatch.
The Combat Rubber Raiding Craft was simple in design and nature and had a legacy almost as long as the SEALs themselves. Stored, it was the size of a small sofa, folded around its high powered engine. When we disengaged the mechanism keeping the sub’s external storage area door closed, the CRRC shot out, inflating as it sped towards the surface.
Helena stared up after it, prompting me to give her a quick nudge. When I had her attention, I pointed upwards and waggled my hand in a swimming motion, indicating she should head up after the boat. She nodded and went on her way.
I waited a few seconds for the next group to come through the submarine’s hatch. As soon as I saw Santino’s head pop out, I began my ascension.
Breaking the surface, it was a quick swim to the boat which was conveniently deployed and ready to go, and a simple exertion of muscle got me aboard. Helena was already there, removing her re-breather and donning her combat armor. She cut a pretty sexy figure in the moon light, as her wetsuit glimmered tightly against the curves of her body and her damp black hair shimmered in the gentle moonlight.
The Last Roman (Praetorian Series - Book One) Page 9
