area was still calm, I made a quick detour to the assault bag I had thrown in the corner, and retrieved a small box of ammo. Walking over to the swim pair, I started reloading empty mags.
“What’s the situation on your front, Hunter?” Vincent asked.
“Between our sniper fire and claymores, I’d estimate around three hundred dead or injured,” I reported, securing one of my freshly reloaded mags back in my go-bag, and retrieving another empty one from my dump pouch. “Maybe another hundred have fled. Most of the casualties are Praetorians, and the deserters, civilians.”
“Anyone trying to sneak in?”
“No, sir. I think we’ve effectively scared the shit out of them.”
“So far, so good then,” he said offhandedly. “Wang says we still need to hold out for an hour or so before we can move Caligula. He’s breathing easier, but little else has changed.”
I nodded, apathetic.
Santino spoke up next. “When I was out planting claymores, only three by the way, I managed to send up my drone. We should be receiving aerial footage any second now.”
My eyepiece flashed indicating new intel.
“Bingo,” Santino said.
Sighing at my friend, I tapped my sleeve, and called up the information. Displayed on my lens was a thermal video of the street below. It showed a huge mass of whites, oranges, and reds, indicating live bodies, but trailing behind it was an intermittent string of cooling corpses colored green, blue, and black. We had done more damage than I thought, but I also saw there were many more bad guys than we had originally estimated as well.
“Shit,” I said. “I didn’t think the road was that wide. There may be twice as many men out there than we originally thought.”
Santino and Vincent were likewise looking through their lenses, their faces grim.
“We’ll deal with it,” Vincent said. “When Bordeaux reports contact we’ll…”
The radio crackled to life. “Sir,” Bordeaux’s voice came in strained and distant. “Enemy contact at the gate. The mob has a ram, but many are attempting to scale the walls. We could use Strauss and Hunter up here.”
I looked at Vincent.
“Go,” he said. “Strauss…”
“I’m on my way,” she called as she passed by, having already heard the transmission.
We passed through the atrium together, which we found packed with loyalist Praetorians. Most had worried expressions on their faces, looks of defeat and an utter lack of hope, but as we walked by, many perked up at the sight of us. While some of it could be owed to Helena’s presence alone, I would bet many found us to be more than just symbols of hope, but agents of the gods themselves, sent to protect them in a time of crisis.
Sadly, the truth wasn’t that we were sent to help stop the crisis, but that through our own blunderings, really just mine, we were one of the primary causes of it. No sense telling them that.
Near the entrance, I noticed Gaius and Marcus watching the ever growing mob of protestors outside the gate. Unlike many of the Romans inside, these two were stoic and confident. Their eyes still showed they were willing to fight to the death if need be. They saw us approach and turned to speak.
“Lieutenant Hunter. Lieutenant Strauss,” Gaius greeted, the slightly senior ranking of the two.
I smiled at their use of our ranks. Over the past few months, my friends and I had spent lots of time chatting with our Praetorian guards, mostly about each other’s cultures and peoples. One of the few things we did speak openly about was our military, along with our ranking system. Romans, no strangers to the chain of command, used a very similar hierarchy of command ranks. During our discussions, we managed to lay out the foundation that a lieutenant was of equal rank to a centurion, a captain was about equal to the highest ranking centurion in each legion, a colonel would be a tribune, and a general was known as a legate. Having synced up our chain of commands, the Romans insisted on treating us as though we were their own officers.
Flattering, to say the least.
Stopping a few feet from them both, I tapped a fist against my chests. Helena did nothing. A part of her still found this whole situation ridiculous, and scoffed at how the rest of us tried to fit in. Besides, it was even more of a boy’s world here than it was back home. Needless to say, she was finding it difficult to fit in.
“Marcus. Gaius,” I greeted them. “You two look like you’ve lost something. Forget your swords at home?”
The men chuckled, as they pulled their gladii half way out of their scabbards, proving they had in fact remembered them.
“No, sir,” Gaius answered. “We merely wished to speak with you before you went outside.”
“Battle’s not getting any younger.”
“With your permission, we would like to assist you in any way during the coming battle. Your weapons are indeed far superior to our own, but you cannot hold the enemy back forever. We would ask to serve as your sword arm when the battle gets too close.”
I looked at them. Any man willing to place themselves in one of the most dangerous parts of a battlefield, just to protect a superior, or a friend, was someone impressive indeed. I’d be a fool to turn them down, especially since the only sword handling I’ve ever done were the times my friends and I would hit each other with sticks back when we were kids.
It would be nice having someone cover our backs.
“Of course,” I answered. “Marcus, you’re with me. Gaius, don’t let anything,” I emphasized my point by jabbing a finger at him threateningly, “happen to Lieutenant Strauss.”
Marcus frowned ever so slightly, while Gaius smiled, nodded his head, and looked at my partner. She scowled at me.
It was only fair that I rewarded the guy who stepped up by letting him guard the prettier one, but I had more selfish reasons. Gaius was older, and a slightly better soldier. He’d be able to offer more protection, and I wasn’t going to take any chances with Helena.
Our bodyguards in tow, we made our way to the palace grounds to come face to face with the invading horde.
Bordeaux’s announcement of Romans scaling the walls became immediately obvious. Four had already reached the ground, while more were in the process of descending their rope ladders. The first man I targeted was the quickest on his feet, already approaching our lines. Taking a step forward, I sighted him through my ACOG, and shot him in the head. Another step, and two more men went down with three round bursts to their chests. The last man went down with a head shot from Helena. The immediate threat taken care of, we began picking off the rest of the unlucky souls descending into the courtyard or waiting on the ledges. Ten seconds later, the ropes were cleared of about twenty intruders. Smacking home a fresh magazine, I scouted the area for a good spot to post myself.
The large house boasted an equally large courtyard. Large, of course, being a relative term, as even though it wasn’t large by the opulent standards of many Roman nobles or celebutants back home, it was still big enough to easily accommodate two hundred Romans, three time travelers, and enough room for a bloodbath between twice that many.
The front facade of the home looked like a miniature version of the Pantheon, with columns, ionic in style, and a triangular centerpiece resting above. The entrance was wide, and there was a patio where the columns extended towards the ceiling, with six steps leading down towards a path through the courtyard. The gate acted as a natural funnel into the courtyard, easily the best place to bottleneck the enemy. The walls were a dozen feet high, and a foot thick of concrete, so unless the mob wanted to continue being shot off them, their best bet was to come through the gate. Once it was down, they might reattempt to scale the walls while we were distracted.
With no concealment in sight, and not wanting to use Romans as meatshields I made my way towards the nearest column, signaling Helena to follow me. Taking position behind the center-right column, I indicated Helena should stand behind the opposite one. Bordeaux came and calmly stood between us, ready to lay down suppressing fire while Helena and I chose our targets more carefully.
Even before we arrived in the courtyard, we’d heard the steady beat of a battering ram hammering against the gate. Made out of thick, wooden beams, it started to splinter at about the time we had killed the last of the climbers. By the time we took cover behind the columns, the gate faltered completely.
What took place before me was one of the most amazing sights I had ever seen.
