The Last Roman (Praetorian Series - Book One) (13 page)

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.

I couldn’t help but smile as she covered her hair
with a backwards baseball cap and painted her face with a stick of
black camo chalk. She went light with the chalk in areas that
produced natural shadows like her eye sockets, and darker in places
that reflect light, like her cheeks and forehead. Good training,
and I had to admit the hat was rather fetching on her.

“What?” She asked, noticing my attention. “Does it
work?”

She started performing poses with the hat and made
goofy facial expressions as she modeled it for me.

I laughed. “It looks good. You may pass for a sniper
yet.”

“Ha. You know, we never got around to finding out
who’s the better shot. When we get back. You and me. On the range.
Maybe then you’ll put your money where your mouth is.”

Her banter was calming and the playful infliction
took all the sting out of her comments as she handed me the
chalk.

“You’re on, sister,” I shot back.

As I took off my re-breather gear, Santino surfaced
just off the starboard side.

“Hey! Quit smooching and help me up.”

***

Once the entire team was aboard and our combat gear
was ready to go, Bordeaux activated the engine and we sped away
quietly.

It was only during these few minutes before things
got interesting that I started to worry. It wasn’t that I was
afraid, just that I thought too much. People do it all the time. I
can remember nights before a big test back in college where I would
spend hours awake, trying to process the information, only to end
up confusing myself even more by morning. Same thing applies here,
only if I second guess myself now, I could not only get myself, but
my entire team killed.

I glanced up at the moon, thankfully only a quarter
full and dim, and wondered why I really transferred my service. I’d
just settled into my command as a SEAL team leader, and was working
with some of the finest operators on the planet. My team and I had
been deployed to Iran, Mexico, Siberia, Pakistan, North Korea,
Africa, Azerbaijan and countless other countries, and each time I
had made it out alive, and relatively unscathed. Except for Korea,
of course. I’d had some of the most qualified men at my side to
thank for that, and I remembered too many close calls that could
have ended in my death if not for them. So why, only a few months
later, am I sitting in this boat with two Brits, an aging priest, a
beautiful Ice-Queen, a Frenchman, and of all people, Santino?

I’d always lived by the tenants of God, country, and
family, only I’d never known what order to put them in. Up until
the war, I’d always considered myself Catholic because that’s how
my mother raised me. Granted, I understood the faith, believed in
it and appreciated the values, but I’d never really felt like it
meant that much to me. While I went to church when I could and
tried to lead as pious and noble a life as I could, but up until
maybe four years ago, I didn’t really care that much.

This goddamned war put things in perspective.

It was Muslims versus Christians again, but the
lines were nowhere near as clear as they used to be. We had
excommunicated Russians, South American extremists, African rebels,
Hindu Indians, Pakistanis, expansionist Mexicans, Chinese,
Japanese, Europeans, Koreans, and Americans, all involved in one
way or another.

When word came out concerning Russia’s involvement
in the biological attacks on Jerusalem, China started mobilizing.
They didn’t care much about Jerusalem, or any other Western
interest, but there had been growing tension with Russia over
natural resources, territorial expansion, and aiding terrorism.
Within weeks of the attack, China closed its borders permanently.
The only thing they continued was trade with the West, especially
America, but even that was in question thanks to tension mounting
over China’s near stranglehold on rare earth elements. Their
Eastern front was another matter, armed to the teeth, and
defensively entrenched; China was ready for anything.

As a result of their military buildup, the first
hostilities were over border contention near Kazakhstan. Blood was
spilt on both sides, but it also set a precedent for years to come
between the two nations of mere skirmishes, with no gains for
either side.

While China and Russia were at a stalemate, Pakistan
and India continued to wage a bloodthirsty land war. Europe and
Islamic forces in the Middle East were still fighting over the same
“promised land” fought over for a thousand years. African warlords
slaughtered anyone they could get their hands on. South America
warred within itself and Mexico fought against both neighboring
continents. There wasn’t a peaceful day that went by without
hostilities. Cities on nearly every continent lay in ruin, the
United States included. Cultures were devastated. Maybe two billion
souls lost already.

Nope, the world was pretty much fucked. The war had
no end in sight, and my two year stint away from the Teams wasn’t
going to hurt anyone… as long as I survived long enough to go
back.

“You all right, Jacob?” Helena asked cautiously.
“We’re going to need you sharp tonight.”

“I’m fine. Just reminiscing.” It was probably best
she got my attention when she did. I hadn’t had a chance to think
about my father yet, and all the bullshit that came with that
stream of consciousness.

“Well, wake up. The shore’s in sight. We should
reach the ship in ten.”

I gave her a quick thumbs up and got to work.

***

A short distance from the giant cargo ship, Bordeaux
cut the engine, allowing the small boat to drift idly towards its
target. The rest of us were crouched low in the boat, weapons at
the ready. Making contact with the ship, Wang attached a small, but
powerful, magnet to the hull, securing a rope between it and the
CRRC and anchoring them together. Next, Santino took an old
fashioned grappling hook, a device left relatively unchanged in
design since the Romans, and flung it over the edge of the railing.
Giving it a quick tug, making sure it caught, he turned towards
McDougal and smiled.

McDougal nodded and pointed up. Santino returned the
nod and started his ascent, Vincent not far behind him, ready to
take point. A few agonizing minutes later, Santino transmitted the
all clear double click over the radio.

Wang, Bordeaux, and McDougal followed. Once their
feet cleared the railing, Helena started up after them, leaving me
to deal with our little boat.

Making sure I had a firm grip on the rope, I pulled
out a stopper holding the air in the inflated ring around the boat,
and pulled a simple plug from the rubber hull, allowing water to
flow aboard. Within seconds, the boat started to sink, engine and
all. Normally, SEALs would take their CRRC ashore and hide it, but
our mission parameters made that difficult. When it was almost
fully submerged, I detached the line attached to the magnet and
pocketed the anchor.

Quickly pulling myself up the rope, I reached the
railing, swung my feet over the edge and dropped quietly to the
deck. I pulled up the rope, collapsed the grappling hook, and
handed it off to Santino, who efficiently reattached it to the
appropriate spot on the back of his rig. As the team’s lead scout,
he traveled light. His rig was more of a harness than a vest and
was lightly burdened, with only magazines, a few tools, the
grappling hook and rope, and a rather nasty looking knife that
belonged in a Rambo movie. He had a small pack attached to his
back, containing his computer hooked up to his eye piece, and as
our scout, he was in control of a small aerial drone that Vincent
carried on his back.

The UAV was basically a small helicopter, its
circumference no more than that of large dinner plate. It consisted
of three helicopter blades that jutted out from the circular
chassis to create a three points of a triangle. It was extremely
quiet, almost invisible, and very effective. It carried high
resolution cameras outfitted with night vision and thermal lenses
for use in the dark. It could climb a thousand feet in the air and
had an effective radius of two miles. It was solar charged and had
the shelf life of a Twinkie.

As soon as Santino secured his grappling hook to his
rig, he crept forward while Vincent kept pace with him. Santino
could stalk anything on the planet, so I imagined Vincent might
have trouble keeping up. He could tip toe over broken light bulbs
to sneak up on a prowling panther if he had to. Still, Vincent was
a veteran, and knew his way around. He’d keep up. Besides, Santino
could easily peel off on his own if McDougal thought it was
necessary. He probably preferred going lone wolf anyway, with
nothing but a knife in his teeth, and streaks of blood on his
cheeks.

As he crept forward, the rest of us followed at a
safe distance. I was rearguard in the formation checking our six
constantly to keep our rear secure. Thankfully, everyone must have
been asleep as we didn’t run across a soul. After a quick stroll
over the deck of the ship, we came across the stacked cargo
containers.

Santino pulled down his night vision goggles to scan
the containers. According to intelligence, our local contact had
tagged those going to the terrorists’ stronghold with infrared
paint, invisible to the naked eye, but brilliantly luminescent
under night vision.

Santino pointed to three containers, the first of
which we inspected was conveniently only half full, but still a
tight squeeze for any swim pair. It was a good thing I wasn’t
paired with Bordeaux, since we were the two biggest guys on the
team. He was with Wang, who was the smallest, but McDougal will be
with them too, making for a tight fit.

Granted, being in such tight proximity to Helena
probably won’t be the most comfortable thing either – only for far
different reasons.

I made sure not to look at Santino, who I knew would
never give up an opportunity to screw with me. I was saved from my
embarrassment when I saw him moving off to the side of the ship. He
looked for an infrared beacon that would point out our contact’s
position and would send a return signal to alert the local
resistance to our presence.

McDougal pointed to Vincent and then a container,
then Helena and a container. They nodded and headed towards their
assigned containers. I followed Helena. As she opened our
container, we peered inside, noticing it was even less spacious
than the last. Looking at each other, I gave her a shrug.

“After you, ma’am,” I whispered.

She gave me an indignant look, but went inside all
the same. She studied the layout, and after a few minutes, decided
on the position that would keep her close to the exit, comfortable,
and most importantly, as far away from me as possible.
Unfortunately for her, she had to get out, let me in first, and
basically lie next to me in a veritable spooning position to
achieve that goal. I couldn’t even have been lucky enough to be on
the outside, instead, I left all hope on my confining wetsuit to
contain any dignity that manages to sneak out. Thankfully, my mind
on the mission, I could focus on things other than Helena, but a
quick memory of her leaning over in her tight BDU pants and
sleeveless undershirt made me think otherwise.

I shook my head. Get your mind out of the gutter,
Hunter.

I felt completely uncomfortable. I knew there was
nothing to do but take the initiative and make the first smart ass
comment. “Keep your hands to yourself, Strauss, we’re on a
mission.”

She couldn’t turn to look at me after she shut the
door, securing it from the inside, but I knew she must have been
fuming. “Don’t get any funny ideas, Lieutenant. Remember, I’m
supposed to be covering your ass on this mission.”

Ouch, the innuendo was killing me.

“Well, just don’t take a nap, you’re going to need
some fancy moves to get out of this thing.”