It only took two steps before she had something to say.
“Attack Agrippina when she could have her entire Praetorian contingent with her? Are you fucking crazy?!” She was almost yelling.
“No, I’m not crazy,” I answered calmly. “I’m opportunistic, not to mention verging on desperate. If Vespasian sent his army, the potential political ramifications may completely defeat the purpose of what we’re trying to accomplish. We, on the other hand, can sneak in and take her without anyone being the wiser, and maybe even grab the orb in the process.”
“Jacob, you’re getting cocky again. What if she’s expecting us? Sets another trap?”
I let out a slow breath. I wasn’t getting cocky. Not this time, but how was I going to convince Helena that this plan had nothing to do with the over obsessed one we’d acted on months ago?
“When we get back to the city, we’ll discuss it with everyone else, and only act on it if it’s agreed upon by all,” I said. “Besides, Vespasian is obviously on our side. If he wanted us dead, we would be. Agrippina may be expecting us, but she won’t expect all of us. We can do this, Helena. We can get home.”
She didn’t look nearly so convinced, and she moved her hand down to her stomach, wincing at perhaps another stab of pain. She still seemed very angry and I figured it was about time for another Jacob/Helena speaking hiatus.
“You’d better not be wrong this time,” she threatened, with a finality that told me that was going to be it for the near future.
I sighed, condemning myself to the fate of silence that was sure to come.
“I’m not.”
X
Recon
Mission Entry #10
Jacob Hunter
North of Caesarea, Judea - October, 42 A.D.
Pardon the handwriting as I’m writing this on horseback. It wouldn’t have been a problem had we purchased those camels I’d wanted, but everyone overruled me on that one. Something about them smelling and having a bad tendency to spit.
I argued that it was llamas that spat, not camels, but no one listened.
Oh, well.
So, guess who we finally met?
Vespasian.
Pretty cool, eh? I love how plans come together in the end. With the way things had been going, I wasn’t sure if we’d ever meet him. Apparently, I wasn’t very good at plans.
As for Titus Flavius Vespasianus (his Latin name), the man was an enigma. Easily the most confusing Roman I knew, he came off like Santino at times but Vincent at others. He was a tough read and it was to know what he was thinking, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t worth listening to. In fact, he was the reason I was here.
It seems Agrippina’s pissed off one man too many. No surprise, there. Vespasian’s been done with her for a while now apparently, and has tasked us with capturing her and bringing her to justice.
I had to admit that going after Agrippina felt great. It was time for a little payback, and it felt especially good having Gaius and Marcus with us. I guess it was just great to be working for someone again. Working for ourselves for the past few years had its benefits, kept our own hours, the pay had been good, but it lacked fulfillment. While we weren’t on Vespasian’s payroll, simply having him send us on a mission was a nice enough change of pace. It felt more purposeful having someone like him making the decisions for once.
Everyone shared my sentiment. Except for Helena. She’s never been a proponent of doing anything that put our lives in direct risk, but she’s been exceptionally cautious ever since Byzantium. Whatever her reasons, it bothered me. In the past, her bad feelings tended to manifest themselves in real life.
But while I’ve always trusted her judgment, we couldn’t stand down now. Home was just a melon sized ball away. If she had a bad feeling, then we’d take it into account and be more careful, but we weren’t giving up. Everyone else was on board, and she hadn’t been willing to offer anything that could sway the others.
And as always, it’s become a point of tension between us. She stopped talking to me about four days ago, just after our conversation with Vespasian. I swear. One day I will figure out what make women tick.
At least that one.
But I digress.
There isn’t much else to say right now. No news on the orb, except that Vespasian believes Agrippina may have it on her, but I still don’t have a fucking clue how it works.
I’ll have to get back to you on that someday.
Great… Santino’s radioing me. Some kind of roadblock up ahead. Just another snag to deal with.
I’ll try to write one more time before we hit Agrippina. No promises though.
Don’t miss me.
I quickly bound my journal and tossed it in my bag. Checking to make sure I looked as inconspicuous as possible, I signaled for everyone to hang back before double timing it to Santino’s position.
He was on forward recon today, scouting out the area a few hundred yards ahead of us. His swim buddy, Wang, was adversely on rearguard, a few hundred yards behind us. It may have split up the swim pair, but it assigned them likeminded tasks to keep the rest of the group stable, at least as stable as this group could get.
Gaius and Marcus had joined us after Vespasian had sent us the go ahead to leave. They were now 10-9 and 10-10 respectfully. Not only had they been integrated into our chain of command, and given call signs, but they were also given that which they’d always wanted.
The truth.
Now that the cat was out of the bag with Galba and Vespasian, we decided it was time to let our best friends in on our little secret, along with Madrina. We told them everything during our first night on the road. It wasn’t a surprise that they were initially shocked but quick to accept. In fact, since the truth had been Marcus’ guess all along, they’d even joked about it, Gaius grudgingly paying him some money as a result of the bet they’d had. Madrina, however, had not taken it as well.
She’d known Bordeaux hadn’t been a simple Gaulic local, but there was no way she could have guessed where he truly came from. She’d been pretty angry that night. She stalked off almost immediately, giving none of us any time to explain. Helena had gone to talk to her, but had come back a few minutes later, having little luck at consoling her. Bordeaux, the big snuggly kitten that he was, however, managed to calm her down rather quickly, and she eventually came around.
Her main concern must have been the orb and what it represented. Now that she knew what it was, it had to frighten her that her hulking meat slab of a man might choose to go home, instead of be with her. I had no idea what Bordeaux would do, but I knew he wouldn’t leave her behind. He may even chose to stay with her. It was his decision, but he’d have to deal with it later.
Gaius and Marcus, however, were an entirely different story. They practically demanded we take them with us to the future. I had no theoretical problem with them coming, but I had no idea if they even could. I hadn’t told them that, but it was just another thing we’d have to figure out later.
In the meantime, we decided now was the best time to get them more acquainted with how we ply our trade. So, we gave them some spare BDUs and boots, our extra com units, and even rifles. Our supply cache had come with my SR-25, Helena’s M82 sniper rifle, a few shotguns, just in case we had to face Roman zombies I suppose, a number of assorted M4-A1 carbines, your standard run of the mill infantry weapons, and we still had McDougal’s G36.
Unfortunately, ammo was now at a serious premium. Most of the 5.56mm ammunition used in the G36, M4s, and HK416s, was practically gone thanks to the siege of Caesarea. We only had enough for three full magazines each, barely one hundred rounds. Everyone else fared slightly better. Wang had plenty of .45 ACP ammo for his UMP, Bordeaux slightly less 7.62mm for his SAW, and Helena still had enough 6.65 for her P90 as well. Unfortunately, she’d given most of her ammo for the DSR1 to Bordeaux, so she wouldn’t be doing much more sniper work with it. At least she still had the M82, but she couldn’t lug that thing around everywhere.
After rationing out the ammo, Santino managed to find an extra box of 5.56 in one of our crates, so we went through the very basics of rifle shooting with Gaius and Marcus. Titus easily out shot them with the G36, but he’d had years of practice under Vincent’s tutelage. They did fairly well at medium ranges, each achieving close groupings at about fifty yards or so. Shooting wasn’t a hard thing to learn, but it took a certain amount of skill and time to practice. It didn’t hurt that they were consummate professionals, soldiers born and bred. They wouldn’t give up or stop trying until they were more than competent with whatever weapon they were given.
It was that same legion discipline that I respected more than anything else in this asinine and fucked up time period.
Each of us from the future also offered some skill set to help them fit in. Santino taught them how to move, Helena how to shoot, Bordeaux how to best cope with explosive detonations, Wang some basic medical treatments, Vincent to use the com system, and I instructed them to simply not do anything stupid.
Despite the crash course in modern Spec Ops, the two Romans were in nirvana. They were finally given the chance to prove to the rest of us that they could do everything we could.
I called out to the two of them as I passed by them.
“Remember, if this ends up in a firefight, short controlled bursts. Conserve your ammo.”
Both men saluted in a more modern fashion than their chest pounding standard, another thing we’d showed them. I hadn’t been sure if it was appropriate or not, but given the circumstances, I couldn’t care less. I returned their salute with an uninterested wave.
I nudged my beautiful Spanish horse in Santino’s direction, and we moved out in a trot. It took me five minutes to reach him, but about twenty yards out he was emphatically signaling for me to take cover. Instinct took over and I swiftly swung my left leg over Felix’s back and dropped to the ground next to him. In the same movement, I grabbed his reigns and gently tugged for him to fall into a sitting position. Horses didn’t like lying on the ground, but they did if needed. It just took a little coaxing.
Felix was a good horse though, very obedient, so he fell on his flank as though he did it all the time. I patted his mane, fed him a carrot and told him to stay. I wasn’t sure if he’d listen, but I didn’t have much of a choice. Leaving him behind, I bear crawled to the small sand dune separating Santino from whatever had his attention.
“What’s up?” I asked him, pulling out my binoculars. “A four star resort with comped room service and a pool shaped like a palm tree with lots of hot ladies in bikinis?”
Santino looked at me. “She hasn’t talked to you in four days, and already you’ve got ladies in bikinis on the brain?”
“I just want to see her in a bikini one of these days,” I said, peering through the lens. “Not much in the sexy-ware department in the stores around here.”
“You’re pathetic.”
I glanced at him with a mock frown on my face. “I’m so lonely.”
Santino chuckled.
“But seriously,” I said, returning my attention to my binoculars, “what have we got? Some kind of picket station?”
“That’s what I’d call it,” he replied, looking through his magnifiers as well. “I’ve seen about thirty guards manning the post, all acting unprofessional and lazy. Ten archers in the tower, ten guards on duty, with another ten milling about. Stables around back with horses for each of them.”
“Hmm,” I hummed. “Shouldn’t be too much of a problem.”
“We could just go around,” Santino pointed out.
“We could, but I’d rather not have anyone behind us. This post means we have to be pretty close to the AO. I don’t want anyone sneaking up on us while we’re reconnoitering Agrippina’s location.”
“You’re the boss.”
I nearly missed my next breath at the comment, but quickly recovered. “Any thoughts on a tactical approach?”
“I’d say the best way to take care of them is to have them come to us,” he suggested.
“Yep,” I agreed, squinting through my binoculars.
He glanced at me. “You don’t actually have a plan?”
“Well,” I said, meeting his look. “One could call it that.”
“Call it a plan?”
“Yeah.” I shrugged. “Sure. Why not?”
He snickered. “This should be good.”
***
Twenty minutes later, Santino and I rode our black horses towards the guard post, our pace innocent and nonthreatening. Before setting out, we’d radioed for the rest of the group to move up to our recon position and wait to receive the bad guys. Once they’d set up the perimeter, the two of us had set out.
“You ready for this?” I asked him.
He turned towards me and smiled.
“Try not to laugh too hard,” I said.
“Man, this should be really good.”
Only a few yards out, I gave the post a quick perusal and noted the posture and positions of each guard. Santino had been right. Most looked like they didn’t want to be there, while the rest merely let on like they cared. They were so out of it upon our arrival that those out front were visibly surprised by our presence, even though we had been in view for the past ten minutes. A centurion came out to meet us, one of his buddies not far behind.
“Halt,” the centurion called. “State your business.”
I gave him a warm smile. It was easy to smile. I’ve always wanted to do this.
“My name is Ben Kenobi,” I told the centurion. “This is Luke Skywalker. Let us through. We’re on a diplomatic mission to Alderaan. ”
“You’re on a diplomatic mission to…” the centurion looked at his companion curiously, “…Al-der-an?”
“You don’t need to see any identification,” I continued, waving my hand at him. I looked at Santino. He was staring at me, his mouth hanging open, no grin in sight. Even he couldn’t believe I was doing this, and he didn’t even seem to care that he was possibly blowing the entire ruse.
“We… don’t need to see any identification?” The guard repeated slowly, again looking towards his partner.
Was this actually working?
“These aren’t the droids you’re looking for?” I asked with an inkling of hope.
“What?!” The guard yelled, indicating to his comrades. “Seize these fools!”
He reached out to grab the reigns of my horse, but before he could grasp them, I pulled out my Sig and shot him in the chest.
“Boring conversation, anyway,” I said, my smile evaporating. I pulled hard on the reigns, orienting Felix back towards our convoy, enticing him to put on some speed. I turned to Santino, conveniently galloping at my side and offered him a toothy grin. “I’ve always wanted to do that.”
“Really?? That was your plan?”
“Don’t tell Helena.”
“Oh, you owe me big time, buddy,” he replied, his grin returning. “Big time.”
I didn’t think he’d say anything, but my impending romantic doom wasn’t nearly as important as the thing that had just struck my back. I craned my neck to see an arrow sticking out of my shoulder, luckily stopped from impaling me by my body armor. Santino looked over and noticed it as well.
“Move it,” he said, pushing his horse even faster for the last hundred yards to our waiting teammates.
Arrows started falling all around us and Roman soldiers mounted horses to give chase. We had a good lead on them, but sniper fire from our comrades was already picking the Roman archers off. By the time we reached the small recon dune, most of the Romans giving chase laid dead behind us. The half dozen remaining Romans noticed their predicament, and turned tail and fled. We couldn’t let them alert anyone of our presenc
e, so we picked them off as well, one by one.
From the time I shot the first centurion to when the last Roman fell from his horse, only four minutes had passed. Quick, clean and proficient. Once we were sure no one was getting up, the team moved quickly through the bodies and policed them. Only Helena neglected her duties, rushing over to me instead to examined the arrow stuck in my back.
I didn’t feel any pain, and I knew there was no way the primitive arrow could have penetrated the Kevlar that lined the combat fatigues I wore under my robe. Even so, she examined it carefully before diagnosing that it was clear for extraction. With a quick yank, she pulled it free from my MOLLE vest. Stepping around to face me, she broke it in half and threw it at my chest angrily. I knew what she was thinking. Another stupid mistake that could have ended much worse than it had. She stood there for a few seconds, just staring at me silently, and then she threw her arms around my shoulders and pulled herself in tight. She hung there for a while before pulling back, holding me by my arms. Her face revealed her concern, but she shook her head at me before turning to help the others.
I watched her go.
Women.
***
“I’ve got two guards in the Northeast cupola,” Vincent reported over the radio. “Two more at the base of the tower.”
“Copy,” I replied, making a mark in my notebook.
“Five more at the gate.” That was Wang.
“Uh-huh,” I mumbled, scribbling furiously.
“Three on the south wall.” Helena this time.
“All right, all right,” I commed. “Slow it down. So far we have forty Praetorians scattered throughout the perimeter. Keep going. Slowly.”
Their constant updates were disheartening. We’d arrived three hours ago around midnight, and had set up shop about an hour after that. All of us from Madrina to our former legion buddies were scattered around the decent sized seaside resort, counting and cataloging bad guys. We’d expected plenty of guards around the site, but things were quickly getting out of hand. No one had bought into Helena’s theory of their being thousands of guards, but we were at least expecting her Sacred Band of three hundred Praetorians. Granted, she’d co-opted many of those men into her new ninja battalions or whatever, and since we’d just got done killing fifty or so of them, I thought maybe we’d get lucky.
To Crown a Caesar (The Praetorian Series: Book II) Page 35