Praetorian Series [4] All Roads Lead to Rome (49 page)

Emotion crept up on me now, and I felt my lips tug up in a silent thank you, but I beat it down.  Even if Titus forgave me right here and now as well, I wouldn’t change my mind, and there was no way I’d be able to forgive myself in time to change it either.

“Thanks,” I managed and looked back at Titus, but when he didn’t seem eager to say or do much of anything, I returned my attention to the floor, “but whether or not you’re right, there is still a lot I need to atone for, starting tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow?”  Artie asked.  “The wedding rehearsal?”

I nodded.  “Won’t be much of a rehearsal for anything by the time I’m done with it.”

“And what exactly do you plan to do?”  Bordeaux asked from beside Madrina.

It was nice to see her again, although her tall frame and red hair reminded me so much of Boudicca that I had to suppress a sudden urge to cry again.  I beat it down and focused.

I raised a hand and gestured at Merlin.  “You know who this is, or, at least, you think you know who this is.  His name isn’t Faustulus or Merlin or… Tim… for crying out loud, I’m not calling him
Tim
.”  I sighed.  “But like Tim, these names are simply guises.  They’re personas, identities he’s taken on for purposes all his own.  But who he is really doesn’t matter.  What matters is he’s prepared to help us.”

“How, pray tell?”  Santino said, and I almost smiled. 

It was impossible not to miss Santino.

Merlin stepped forward.  “You have two problems.  First, you don’t have the red orb.  Second, you must contend with Remus.”

Santino snorted.  “I can take him.  Sneaking up on gods is my specialty.”

Stryker threw up a hand and Santino blindly high fived it with a loud smack, a smug grin on his face, his eyes never leaving Merlin’s.

Merlin shook his head.  “Unfortunately, Johnathon, Remus would not be fooled, even by you.”

Cuyler, sitting on a bench with one leg propped up on its surface, held up a hand casually.  “I can put three in his chest from across the city in the time it’d take him to blink.”

“No, Alexander” Merlin answered evenly.  “You cannot.  You people do not understand.  For all your advanced weaponry and tactics, you are but insects in comparison.  Remus will hear your footfalls and gunshots no matter how careful you are, and his reactions are instantaneous.  You would achieve little.”

“Just who the fuck is this guy then?”  Santino demanded.

Merlin opened his mouth to speak, but I knew he would simply dribble on about how it doesn’t matter, how we wouldn’t understand, or how we’re not supposed to know anything about the past, typical bullshit from him, so I interrupted.

“He won’t tell you,” I answered, my voice strengthening, “but I’ll tell you what I’ve managed to piece together from his cryptic half-truths.  They’re all that’s left – maybe – of some kind of precursor civilization, an advanced society that predates modern history, and was, apparently, destroyed or removed from history.  Shit like Atlantis, ancient astronauts, Stonehenge, and all that other bullshit…”

“Doesn’t sound much like bullshit to me anymore,” Helena whispered beside me

I shushed her and continued.  “I haven’t a clue what happened to them or where they went, if they even still exist, but Remus showed me far more than this asshole did.  These orbs work through wormholes, activated by black holes, powered with quasars, nebulas, and God knows what else.  I’m talking quantum mechanics so obscure and advanced, we should come up with a new name for it.  They terraformed an entire version of Mars just to channel all of this energy through the orbs, for Christ’s sakes!  They did all this – or maybe it was passed down to them by an even older civilization, who knows – so is it any surprise that the people of such a civilization can be nine feet tall and have god-like abilities?”

The room was quiet, but it only lasted a few seconds before Santino had to ask, “So why aren’t you a giant too?”

Merlin, who stood at least six feet tall, shrugged.  “I’m an old man.”

An
aha
expression spread across Santino’s face, and he took a step backward, a clear indication that he was finally ready to shut up.  Silence set in again, and I finally took a moment to glance at their faces.  Most looked grim, or at least serious, but even Titus’ face didn’t appear outright angry, and he wasn’t staring lasers at me anymore either.  I wondered if they’d just walk out on me, but then Marcus sauntered into the atrium from the building’s front entrance, strolling in almost nonchalantly, completely oblivious to what was going on as he stopped for a second to remove his footwear.  Everyone turned silently and watched as the Roman unstrapped his boots, what most from the future would called sandals, and neatly placed them beside his feet.  He took a second to inspect his toes and picked at a piece of dirt or grime beneath one of his toenails, but then he took notice of something worse and started scrubbing away at his big toe.

Apparently satisfied a few seconds later, he straightened and looked up, immediately jumping back a foot or two in fright at the sight of everyone present.  Mild chuckles rumbled through those gathered as they turned away from the startled Roman, who in turn was just now catching his breath.  A moment later, he finally caught sight of me, and jumped again.

“Hunter?”  He asked.  “You are well?”

“Not exactly,” I replied, “but better than I was.”

Marcus beamed.  “That is most fortuitous news.”

“Explain,” Gaius demanded in a voice that would have seemed rude had he not been talking to his closest friend.

“I have just returned from the farm,” Marcus started.  “A note was placed at the dead drop location that indicated a large army has been seen north of the Rubicon and should be here in perhaps a week.”

I sighed.  “Do I even need to ask?”

He shook his head.  “It is unconfirmed, but I believe it to be Galba.  He indicated months ago he would march on Rome as soon as he was able.”

“It could be Vespasian,” Helena mentioned from beside me.  “I think he would object to this upcoming union as much as the rest of us.”

Wang shook his head.  “Two weeks isn’t enough time for him to even hear about it, let alone decide to march on Rome.”

“It would be if he was close,” I mumbled, mostly to myself, wondering now what kind of wrench could be thrown into our plans if one or both of them showed up uninvited and with a raging horde of professional warriors behind them.  If they got here too early, it could really screw things up, but it wouldn’t.  They couldn’t move as fast as us and would be too late to change the outcome of what I had planned.

The sound of flesh slapping flesh distracted me, and I looked up to see Santino with his hands on his face, slowly running them down his thick beard before sending them upward again to rub his bald head – a grooming style I couldn’t help but find amusing.

“Gods, and aliens, and giants, oh my,” he started, flinging his hands to his hips in frustration.  “Such problems we have.  And Galba too?  I guess we can throw him into the
aliens
category since he looks so much like one.  But we actually have
another
problem.  A big problem.  A mind bogglingly
huge
problem!  And I’m not just talking about her boobs, which are also big and… firm and soft and…”

Immediately, almost everyone in the room whispered, “Agrippina,” but then looked at each other awkwardly when they all realized they’d come to the conclusion based on Santino’s particularly crude and sexual description alone.

“Oh, yes!”  Santino yelled excitedly, spinning his head around in a large circle as he said it.  “The one, the only… Slutpinna herself!  Who the fuck knows what she has planned.  Are we all really so naïve as to think that she’s marrying Remus solely for his two foot long…”

“John!”  Artie yelled, interrupting him as though she was in on a joke or reference.

He winked at her and continued.  “Well, we all know she’s not simply marrying him because she intends to turn herself into a farm for baby gods.  She wants something out of this too, and we all know she’ll do anything to get it.  Like I said, we’ve got other problems.”

“Aye,” Wang mumbled, “like how to take out a god that even
you
apparently can’t sneak up on or Cuyler can’t put in the Earth from half a world away.”

“What about me?”  Bordeaux asked with a sly smile, rolling his large shoulders.  “I bet
I
can take him.”

Madrina smacked his arm, hard enough to cause the big man to wince and rub the struck spot, ending the conversation immediately.  More nervous chuckles emanated from the crowd but those too ended very quickly, and everyone settled into uncomfortable silence once again.

“So what do we do?”  Artie asked, seconds later.  “How do we fight a god?”

Merlin stomped his foot, almost angrily.  “For the last time!  He is
not
a god!  He is… a man!  Only more so.  But if you insist on referring to him as such, so be it.  I will indulge your simple minds if only because it will make the following question easier to understand: what does one need to fight a god?”

“Another god,” I answered, growing tired of everyone’s lack of insight.

“Exactly,” Merlin said, “and where might we find another god?”

Santino shrugged.  “Well, there’s one standing right in front of me.”

Merlin growled and turned to me. “In person, he really is not as humorous as he seems…”

I nodded but didn’t take his bait, deciding to end this game myself.  “Romulus,” I said.  “That’s who we use.  That’s our play.  We free Romulus and let him tangle up Remus while we find the orbs and deal with Agrippina.”

“And then what?”  Archer asked, the first words he’d said in a while.  “What if Romulus loses?”

I shook my head.  “It doesn’t matter, because the plan doesn’t rely on Romulus beating Remus down.  He only needs to distract him.  The only way truly out of this is for me to get Remus away from here.”

“Get him away from here?”  Artie asked, concern obvious in her voice.  “What do you mean, Jacob?  What are you…”

“It means I’m going to use the orbs to take him to some alternate world where he’ll never harm anyone again.  Some desolate world where he’ll be of no threat to anyone.  Somewhere he can die alone three thousand years from now if that’s how long it takes.  After what he did to me, and especially because of what he did to Boudicca, he’ll be lucky if I don’t drop him off in the middle of some ocean, just to see if he’s related to Neptune as well.”

“But…” Artie started, her head shaking in disbelief, “…what if he stops you?  Even if you manage to send him somewhere else, he might be too fast for you to make it back alive!”

“I’ll be fine,” I said.  “I’ll jump back before he even knows what hit him.  Even he’s not that fast.

“You don’t know that!”  Artie argued, and I found myself touched at how much she cared.  “He’ll tear your arms off before you even make it to the other side. Even if you make it, he might still kill you!”

I tilted my head down so that I could look at her.  “If that’s what it takes.”

XI

Sacrifice

July, 44 A.D.

Rome, Italy

Jacob/Diana Hunter

Another sniper hide.  Another mission.

The last sniper hide.  The last mission.

Regardless of how this turned out, I was done with all of it.  Whether I died here today or made my way home, I couldn’t imagine ever wanting anything to do with war ever again.  Helena and I had often spoke of what life would be like once we returned home, and often those discussions had been silly and far from serious, often describing a fantasy that could never be fulfilled.  Home was filled with death, destruction, and war, and it was only a matter of time before the end of everything, but something about that was appealing. 

If given a choice of staying here, even if we succeeded today, where I could live out my days in peace and tranquility, or go home where the risk of dying well before a natural death was exponentially higher, I would still choose to go home.  I would choose the life of perpetual fear and risk of death, because at least I wouldn’t have to be involved anymore.  If someone dropped a nuke on my house, it wouldn’t be because I had caused it or had anything to do with the consequences.  I wouldn’t be responsible for it.  I’d just be another nameless statistic in a casualty report, and that anonymity was what I wanted.

If we stayed here, peace was certainly an option.  I already knew the end times were well and beyond my lifetime here, and there was no chance of mass annihilation through fire and brimstone, divine or otherwise.  Living a long and happy life was certainly possible here.  But I was also known here.  I was a notorious outlaw, bandit, sheriff,
Vanus
, general, freedom fighter, and maniac.  I’d made a thousand enemies in the half decade I’d been here.  Most were nobodies but others were Agrippina herself, Empress of the Roman Empire.  Even if she was dealt with, she’d have thralls of sycophants eager and willing to avenge her.  Peace may be an option, but so was poison in my drink or a shiv in my back or, worse, a similar fate for Helena, Santino, or one of the others.  And unlike back home, where those things could happen completely by random, here they would be my fault.

I let in a deep breath and closed my eyes behind my binoculars, reminding myself that neither option seemed all that likely today.  The third option was far bleaker, but one I would take in a heartbeat if I could: self-sacrifice for the greater good.  I didn’t deserve it, but it was all I could hope for anymore.

But then there had been the plan, the plan everyone hadn’t had a problem with, all except Artie, of course.

“Are you insane?”  She’d demanded yesterday after I’d made my announcement.  “Even if Romulus has him distracted, he could still stop you before you’re able to transport away!  And if you succeed, he may still kill you!”

The ground had continued to be a comfortable place to stare at then.

“I understand that,” I’d said, “but it’s a risk I have to take.  The only way to get rid of him is to trap him somewhere else.  I’m the only one that can do it.”

She’d folded her arms and glared at me.  “That’s not true.”

“Come on, Artie,” I’d pleaded.  “You know I can’t ask you to do this.  I can’t ask you to even be involved.  It’s my fault you even…”

“I even what?  That I even
exist
?  Is that what you were going to say?”

“No, I…”

“I don’t care what you were going to say,” she’d interrupted.  “We’re here.  I’m here.  And I’m going to help.  We can figure out a way to remove Remus from this equation without you having to sacrifice yourself.”

I hadn’t had much of a choice on what to do next.  All I could think to do was nod and move on, hoping to convince her that I’d at least consider her words.  She’d quieted down and let Merlin and me discuss the plan.  It wasn’t particularly elaborate, relying mostly on chaos and confusion to get the job done, but timing was imperative.  Move too soon and Remus would sniff us out, move too late and we’d miss our opportunity to get him out in the open.

I shook my head and ignored the memory, glancing at my watch. 

Noon was quickly approaching, exactly when the festivities were planned to begin.  The wedding wasn’t scheduled until tomorrow, but even the rehearsal was drawing a crowd.  A royal wedding was one thing, but the royal wedding of the empress to not only a god, but a god who’d returned from the underworld to lead the city into the future, who also happened to be one of the legendary founders of the city, was another thing entirely.

I glanced to my right, finding Helena seated beside me in a cross legged position, her rifle balanced across her body, its butt stock fixed firmly against her shoulder.  Her back was to me as I laid prone beside her, but I could still see the side profile of her lovely face, and I allowed myself the luxury of just staring at her.  I drank in the details, her sharp nose and small chin, thin eyebrows that sat above eyes set firmly behind her scope as she stared through it diligently.  She’d grown very tan this summer, although I couldn’t help but imagine her sitting out in the hot sun, day after day, alone, hoping to find warmth in it since she hadn’t been able to find it in me.

Her eye peeked at me from behind her scope, and she flinched as she realized my attention was on her.  She recovered quickly and offered me a half smile as she looked through her scope again.

“How do you feel?”  She asked.

I took in a breath.  “Ready, I think.  You?”

She looked at me again.  “I’m just glad you’re here, Jacob.”

“Me too.  Even if this is the end.”

“Don’t talk like that,” she scolded.  “Everything will go exactly as planned.  And I’ll never leave you.”

I frowned.  “You’re not worried about me leaving you?”

She smiled slyly at me.  “I won’t let that happen.  Never again.”

I smiled lightly for her benefit.

I’d been doing that a lot since yesterday.

With a deep breath, I yanked out my radio from a pocket and looped its earpiece into my ear.  Setting the radio to its push-to-talk setting, I started the process of wrangling the troops.

“Eagle Eye, Sniper-1,” I radioed.  “Sitrep.”

“In position, Sniper-1,” Gunnery Sergeant Alex Cuyler reported.  “Hide secure, eyes on AO, nothing of interest.”

“Copy that, Eagle Eye.  Sniper-1 out.”

Cuyler was about eight hundred meters west of the area of operation, the AO designated as the wedding venue structure built about where the Colosseum stood in my timeline.  Cuyler had found a nice little hide on the roof of a tall building on the Capitoline Hill.  He’d spent the majority of the night maneuvering into position, and had been laying there as quiet as a mouse since 0500 this morning.

Helena and I, due north of the AO on the southern tip of the Viminal Hill, had been lucky enough to find an abandoned home to set up in.  Overlooking the
Subura
, one of Rome’s most eccentric and notorious residential districts, we had a clear sightline over hundreds of low rising buildings toward the AO, which, itself, was a tall structure that sat slightly above every other structure around it. 

One thing was for sure, while Agrippina’s Praetorians were doing a bang up job securing the immediate area and controlling foot traffic in and out of the venue, they hadn’t a clue how to set up anti-sniper security.  These guys clearly weren’t the Secret Service, and thank God for that.  Helena and Cuyler would have free reign to ply their trade as easily as if they’d been duck hunting.  Their job was to contain our quarry and sow confusion until the last stage of our plan was ready.

I, however, was only spotting for Helena, as all of my rifles had been destroyed.

I pressed the radio’s PTT button again.  “Ground Team-Actual, Sniper-1.  Report.”

“Ground Team-Actual here,” Santino’s hushed voice replied.  “We’re in the thick of it.  Ready to receive and deliver Package Alpha.”

“Copy, Ground Team-Actual,” I transmitted.  “Try not to do anything stupid.  Sniper-1, out.”

My last bit of advice wasn’t necessarily meant for Santino alone, and was certainly good advice considering the team consisted of every one of our goofballs – although one no longer seemed interested in shenanigans anymore.  Santino was in charge of Wang, Stryker, and Titus, and the only silver lining concerning that group was that Marcus wasn’t also with them.  Their job was to mingle with the crowd during the rehearsal until Romulus showed up and to make sure he knew where he was going.  The young god was bound to be confused by all this, and although we were certain he wouldn’t have a problem going toe to toe and mano e mano with his brother, we wanted to make sure he had all the help he could get.

I pushed the PTT button one last time.  “Extraction-Actual, Sniper-1.  Status.”

“Ready,” Bordeaux’s silky-French voice came through loud and clear.  He was paired with Brewster for this operation.  “HQ secure, gear relocated to the farmhouse, ready to bug out.  Over.”

I nodded.  “Copy that, Extraction-Actual.  Hold down the fort.  Sniper-1, out.”

I heard the quick, staccato double click of static, and I knew he was secure.  I took in another deep breath and turned back to Helena, who was already looking at me.

“Everything’s fine, Jacob,” she assured.  “Everyone knows their jobs and knows what’s at stake.  Nobody’s going to screw this up.”

I nodded, taking some comfort in her words, but also recognizing the underlying subtext as well. 
Everything
was at stake here.  We’d never get a chance like this again, and if we blew this operation completely, we’d never be as prepared as we are now.  Supplies were already thin, but if we ended up shooting our way out of here, we were more than likely to run through them completely.  Gear like claymores, mines, grenades, and demolition charges were mostly long gone.  Bordeaux was likely to have a little C-4 literally shoved up his sleeve for emergencies, and I think Santino had a flashbang or two, but that was about it.  More technical equipment like flashlights, NVGs, laser sights, and infrared optics were either on their last legs or completely useless.  Santino’s drone never recovered from the harsh winter spent in Britain, and many of our batteries, which we’d been able to recharge with solar power for years, had been completely drained in that environment as well.  They’d never recharge again.  Ammo was also tight, but we’d hopefully have enough for today’s operation, even if it turned into our Alamo – our last stand.  Weapons were in mostly working order, but my spare M-4 was trashed, as was my SR-25 sniper rifle, and poor
Penelope
was probably still in a million pieces back in Britain, a loss I still couldn’t believe when I thought of it… but it was a loss that paled in comparison to the loss of Vincent.

Or of my son. 

I’d nearly lost it completely last night when Helena had told me about how they’d buried him next to Vincent in an empty part of the world, devoid of any real kind of society or civilization.  But it had offered something of closure, as well.  I still blamed myself for killing Vincent, but Merlin had at least helped alleviate some of the blame for my son.  He had died because birthing a child was never full proof.  As joyous an occasion as it was supposed to be, often times it ended in misery.  Even back home in the year 2021, despite all its vaunted science and precious medical breakthroughs, it happened all too often – far too often.  But in the age when Rome was ruled by members of the Julio-Claudian family, unfortunate tragedies happened even more regularly.  I wasn’t sure if I’d ever fully recover from the stillbirth of my son, but I’d honor his memory by doing everything I could to right the wrongs of my past, and I would start by returning Helena, his mother, home.

Even if it was at the expense of his father’s life.

“I guess you’re right.”  I told Helena, clearing my throat and looking through my binoculars again, panning them to the right in a southwesterly direction.  The Capitoline Hill came into focus, and on its slope, I saw the Tullianum, a sort of prison used by the Romans that didn’t necessarily mimic the way such institutions operated back home.  The prison was only needed to hold those awaiting trial… or to lock people away in secret for other nefarious means.

Where better to house a superman, a god among men?

I hope Artie knew what she was doing…

***

What was I thinking?

What am I
doing
?

Creeping through a moldy, smelly, disgusting Roman prison facility, that’s what I’m doing.

Why, exactly?  Because I wanted to help?  Wanted to share in the joys of another clandestine, special ops mission like the rest of them? Wanted the thrill of sneaking around, avoiding death or dismemberment at every turn?

Wanted to feel useful?

Well, at least one of those reasons was true, but now I really regretted the way I’d stupidly opened my mouth yesterday.  Jacob and Tim had just outlined their plan, their cockamamie, ridiculously simple, overtly stupid, plan, and Jacob had just finished assigning roles for everyone to play: snipers, assaulters, extractors, the rescue unit, etc…  But my name hadn’t come up, and that had made me angry. 

Plain and simple.

“And what about me?”  I’d demanded.  “You expect me just to sit by and do nothing while the rest of you risk your lives?”