Praetorian Series [3] A Hunter and His Legion (7 page)

I turned back to her and nodded.

***

Later that evening, Helena and I walked arm in arm through the city of Damascus.  The team had trickled into the city over the past hour, trying to keep our entrance subtle and unnoticed, and the two of us were the last to enter.  Using Santino’s UAV, we’d mapped out the city’s layout two nights ago and had determined a location that would suit our purposes: a wide, open public park with eating areas scattered around its perimeter.  It was a familiar atmosphere for anyone regardless of culture or time period, and we’d decided it was the best meeting place in town.

As we passed into the city proper, Helena moved to place
her cheek against my shoulder, and we took the opportunity to simply stroll and drink in the sights.  Having left our rifles and machines of war back at the camp, we tried to enjoy ourselves.  Cuyler had the city covered with his sniper rifle and a few of us still carried pistols as well, so barring the city coming under siege by a Roman legion, we felt fairly safe.

Much like
the city of Caesarea had been before it had been destroyed months ago, Damascus was a beautiful city, shaded in tans, whites, beiges, browns, and with green plants as vibrant as Helena’s eyes.  I’d never been to modern day Damascus, although the last place I’d visited in the modern world had in fact been in Syria, but I already knew this city probably looked nothing like its modern equivalent.

Narrow streets with cobblestone pathways connected
towering adobe buildings where patios jutted out into the streets and hanging gardens cascaded everywhere.  Green plants with yellow, red, and orange flowers littered the city in a beautiful mosaic of color and opulence.  Greek and Roman influences were evident in the architecture and fountains that sparkled in the bright sunlight, and combined with the chattering of locals and the selling of goods, the city seemed almost utopian.

These people probably had no idea the province of Judea was being razed to the grou
nd not all that far away, but I tried to not let myself think about that.  Instead, I glanced down at Helena as she clung to my arm and waited for her to look up and meet my eye.  When she did, I gave her a smile, which she returned sweetly before resting her head back in its original position as we continued on our way.

By the time we arrived at the large park area, the rest of our party
were already there, and had situated themselves around a fountain with a few stone benches.  Those who couldn’t fit on the benches sat on the lip of the fountain or sat on the ground nearby.  Someone had even thought to bring some wine, cheese, and fruit to munch on – a nice touch for our charade.  Vincent, Wang, Santino, Artie, Archer, Stryker, and Brewster sat in a tight cluster and even Bordeaux had managed to haul his massive frame away from his wife to join us.  I looked at the excessively large Frenchman, noting his sandy brown hair and sharp features that seemed almost different now.  As a warrior, he was as ferocious as they came, but was no more volatile than a kitten when at peace, a gentle giant really, but there was anguish in his face now, an expression I recognized in myself quite often these days.

Bordeaux
avoided my inspection as Helena and I found a place to sit, so I shifted my attention to Vincent, whose own weathered face seemed like it always had, if not just a smidge older.  He had to be in his mid fifties by now, but that didn’t mean he was any less capable than the rest of us.  Helena sat next to him, but as I took my seat next to her, I was distracted by Artie explaining something to Santino across from us.

“
So, an alternative known as the magnetoplasmadynamics thruster allows for denser plasma by forgoing the Hall current in favor of a current that is mostly aligned with the electric field, and far less prone to…”

I shook my head at whatever scientific mumbo jumbo she was trying to describe.  I was a pretty smart guy,
and knew a bit of rudimentary science and basic engineering, but my knowledge was insignificant in comparison.  Back home, when the two of us would get into conversations about the stuff, she often had to settle for describing her work as “
Star Wars
stuff.”

I wondered if this current Artie’s work had been nearly as advanced
, or if
Star Wars
even existed there for her to reference.

As for Santino, he had his chin in his hand and was staring at her intently, hanging on
to every single word she uttered, but his eyes told me better.  They were glazed and distant, and I knew he hadn’t really heard a single word she’d said.  He was probably fantasizing about a knife wielding vanilla smoothie with big boobs.

He
was just that kind of guy.

I settled onto the lip of the fountain and gave the soft cushion someone had left there an approving sigh.  I reached for one of three bottles of wine on the ground before me
, and Helena accepted a pair of goblets from Stryker’s helpful hands.  She held them out before me and I poured us helpful servings of the viscous liquid, but looked at me like I was an idiot, and I quickly remembered that she was pregnant.  I shrugged and downed half her glass before handing it to her.  While alcohol wasn’t great for unborn babies, water in the ancient world was probably far more toxic, and the girl had to drink something.

She shook her head at
me and turned away.

I utilized her distraction to study Archer, and tr
ied to make sense of not just the man, but his very presence.  I’d hated him well before I’d ended up in Ancient Rome, even if the two of us had begun our acquaintanceship as friends.  He too had been a SEAL officer, and I’d almost considered him a brother then, especially after he’d started dating my sister.  Their relationship had even built to the point where he’d considered proposing, but then he’d cheated on her and broke her heart, and that fairy tale had crashed to a halt.

I’
d never forgiven him for that.

And neither had my Artie, since he’d died in North Korea on a mission
not long before I’d ended up in Ancient Rome, but this Artie had, just another interesting, temporal deviation.

And now we ha
d to work together, trapped in a magical realm of treachery, despair, anger, literal insanity, and murder.  If there was one positive note I could take from Artie’s newfound friendship with Santino, it would be that he could stand up to Archer.  A few days ago, I’d gotten the feeling that Archer still felt something for my sister, and I just hoped his attitude didn’t elicit a stupid reaction from Santino that would force my friend to do something equally stupid.  They were both extraordinarily dangerous men, and I wouldn’t want to have to step into the middle of a scuffle between them – even for my sister’s sake.

I sighed
and took another sip of my wine, Helena’s body resting comfortably alongside my own, her touch a subtle reassurance.  Besides Artie’s love life, what made my mind whirl more than anything else was the fact that Archer, Artie, and their team were literally walking paradoxes.

A
simple contradiction of basic logic.

Five
years ago, I traveled two thousand years into the past and had, apparently, changed things.  Caligula and Claudius were dead years before their time.  Thousands of humans were dead who shouldn’t be, and hundreds of lives were saved that otherwise would have ended. The course of human events had changed.  That fact was clearly evident in Archer and his team.  Their gear was outdated by over seventy years, although in the grand scheme of two thousand years, that made even less sense than if nothing had changed at all.  If they were going to be different, why weren’t they still wearing plate armor and running around with swords? Why instead was their gear different, but still all too familiar?

What I
couldn’t understand was why Archer and Artie, whom I knew very well in my original timeline, were almost exactly as I remembered them in this new one.  The only major difference being that Archer had been MIA in my timeline and assumed dead, when in this new timeline he was still alive.  How could the grand scope of world history be so different, yet both these people were just as I remembered them?  Apparently, the Jacob they’d known had even fallen out of the same treehouse I had, breaking his leg just as I had.  Did that mean his college girlfriend as a freshman had been just as bitchy as mine had been?

Why were some things so di
fferent, but others so similar?

It didn’t make any
sense.

We’d learned within minutes of meeting Archer that
Helena was a major in this new timeline and that her father was a US Senator, as opposed to a newly commissioned lieutenant and her father a member of the German elite.  Archer had also spoken of a North Atlantic Federation, whatever that was, and of the Ottoman Empire still existing.  Another revelation was that both his team and ours had been sent to Syria by the President, not the Pope, and on a completely different mission that had ended with the same result: time travel.

They hadn’t yet elaborated on the lives of Wang, Bordeaux, or Vincent, but something told me their parallel lives would be equally odd but still strangely similar as Helena’s was.

All these contradictions simply did not add up when combined with the fact that everything about my childhood with Artie from this new timeline – Artie 2.0, for lack of a better term – synced up almost perfectly.  Our mother had bought me a puppy for my tenth birthday, although in this new timeline I hadn’t named him Argos in reference to Odysseus’ dog, but Rex instead.  How fucking original.  Other similarities included my dad and I still not getting along, I’d never once had a cavity, I went to the same schools, and my first sexual encounter was still with little Suzie Lu from across the street when we were sixteen.

How this Artie had known about that last point, I didn’t know, but I decided I didn’t want to know anyway.

But there were other minor differences as well.  The kid who’d beaten me up in seventh grade was named Jason in this new timeline, instead of Billy.  My college girlfriend’s name had not been Shannon – no word on her level of bitchiness, however – and my roommate freshman year at Dartmouth had been named Dan instead of Casey, but from what Artie 2.0 had said, was basically the same guy.  There were other small differences as well, but interestingly, nothing specific about the Jacob from her timeline had changed either.  Artie said I seemed like pretty much the same Jacob Hunter she’d grown up with.

I’d tried asking other questions concerning the world they’d left, but even Artie
had been pretty tight lipped.  Cuyler had seemed interested to learn of sports called Football and Basketball, and had indicated that the only sport played in the United States was Baseball, if only to keep troop morale up and little else, but I’d learnt little else from them.

Later that first night
after they’d arrived, Helena had let me in on a few secrets she’d discovered on her own.  Apparently, the idea of a sports bra was non-existent to Georgia Brewster and Patricia Martin, and they’d been extremely impressed with Helena’s wide array of under garments.  I’d had no idea how a conversation about underwear even got started amongst women, but I had been less interested in the content of the conversation as I had in the context.  In terms of world history, sports bras were a very recent invention, and it was still another interesting difference.

My musings were interrupted
when Santino’s chin slipped off his hand and his palm slapped loudly against his pants, silencing all conversations around me.  All that was left were the sounds of rustling leaves, the chirping of birds, and the passing of people in the park around us.  I half expected Santino to cover his embarrassment by starting things off, but it was Artie who spoke up first.

I groaned
, remembering she wasn’t one for awkward silences either.

“
I suppose it’s time for answers then, isn’t it?”  She asked simply.

“You invited us here
for exactly that,” I shot back.

She placed her hands
in her lap before continuing.  “Well, where should I start?”

“
How about at the beginning,” I said.

She gave me a stern look
and moved her arms to cross them against her chest.  “Why don’t
you
start at the beginning?  It begins with you after all.  Fill in what your journal missed.”

I opened my mouth to raise my voice at her, but Helena stepped on my toes
and answered far more politely for me.

“Our story begins with our mission to capture a biolo
gical arms dealer and scientist named Mushin Abdullah,” she answered, giving me an angry, sidelong look.  “He was a terrorist who worked for the Russians before going rogue and attacking the Vatican and Jerusalem.  When intelligence networks finally pinpointed his position in Syria, we were tasked with retrieving or eliminating him.”

Helena didn’t pause in her explanation, but I noticed Artie exchange a worried look with Archer
, while Stryker and Brewster shared a rare glance.  Anything that got those two to trade almost compassionate expressions had to be something important.

“
There, we found a blue orb that transported us to Ancient Rome,” she continued, simply enough.  “There’s no sense trying to explain it, because I have no idea how it works, and since you’re here, you already know about as much as we do.”