Edward Crichton - To Crown a Caesar

The parties were irksome affairs. Any military commander worth his pay grade would never taunt an army with such shows of frivolity. Flaunting wealth and privilege in front of excessively underprivileged foot soldiers, paid in many instances with little more than salt, was an idea born from a mind steeped in madness. It was only because of their discipline and the threat of a centurion’s olive branch that the legionnaires hadn’t rebelled outright.

I shook my head as I remembered the gluttonous, drunken attendants of those parties. They were amongst the foremost reasons for Rome’s eventual fall. Corruption and apathy had spelled Rome’s downfall equally as much as the inefficiency of their military or the invading barbarian hordes, and certainly more than Christianity, despite what Edward Gibbon said. It was because of those ineffective leaders, leaders who spent more time drinking and finding new ways to stab their peers in the back, that the barbarian invaders had been able to extinguish the flame that was the glory and civilization of Rome, driving Europe into a time of darkness that regressed society hundreds of years.

I tried to push those thoughts to the back of my mind when Santino held up a clenched fist, signaling me to stop. The night was dark, and despite torches secured to the pillars, we were hidden deep in shadow. We had confirmed only one patrolling pair atop the deck, so we figured getting inside the ship would be the easy part, but we had no idea what we would encounter once inside and Galba’s description of its honeycombed interior didn’t inspire much confidence.

Santino kept his hand up for a few seconds before flicking his wrist, indicating it was clear to move out. We rounded the corner of the second building, which resembled the curia in Rome: plain and unremarkable. There was nothing left between us and the interior of the ship, so we slipped through a door and quietly descended a small flight of stairs.

We were greeted by complete darkness, forcing us to utilize our NVGs. Securing mine in front of my eyes, the world instantaneously brightened in a sea of green. A random memory surged into my mind, about a cheap night vision scope I had when I was a kid. Cheap was a relative term, because I saved my allowance for what seemed like forever to buy the thing. I vividly remember my mom reluctantly placing the order when I was thirteen, and every last penny of my hard earned four hundred dollars disappeared that day.

Needless to say, the NVGs had been garbage.

Its picture quality had been poor, manual focusing was required, bright flashes would wash out images, and it projected a small red beam that always gave away my position when my friends and I would shoot at cars with our BB guns. It probably hadn’t been the smartest thing to do, but it was fun, and boys will forever be boys.

But the goggles I had now would have made my thirteen year old counterpart piss his pants. These NVGs cost close to four thousand dollars, focused automatically, compensated for bright flashes, projected crystal clear images, and gave off no ambient light. There were the two, small, green circles around my eyes, a result of the green backlight displayed within the goggles, but they were hard to notice unless you were really looking for them.

I smiled in the darkness as another memory jumped to mind, of the time my SEAL platoon volunteered to play bad guys during a training exercise with a deployed Marine Force Recon unit. I remember sitting in compete darkness at one point, waiting for the scenario to end after I had been “killed” by a Blackhawk’s miniguns. It had been two in the morning, but I was wide awake and sharp, and I hadn’t noticed a thing until I heard the heavy panting of one of the unit’s K9s breathing heavily against my cheek. It was then that I finally noticed the small green glows around their eyes as the Marines traveled back and forth down the hall, searching for anything suspicious.

Those green eyes spooked me and probably will for the rest of my life.

The Marines themselves had been almost invisible in the darkness, little more than two green circles bobbing in midair. It wasn’t until after they’d left and the scenario had ended that I realized there had only been one entrance to the hallway, and that the Marines had spent at least ten minutes walking back and forth over my out stretched legs before I even noticed them. Those guys had been ghosts, and even though I was a Navy man and had inherited an intimate rivalry with Marines, after that moment, I had nothing but respect for that particular bunch.

I shook my head again to get myself back on task. I really had to kick the bad habit of letting my mind wander while on a mission. Santino glanced back at me, having to turn his entire head to do so. If NVGs had any drawbacks it was how they diminished your peripheral vision and decreased your depth perception. Minor annoyances, but it beat grasping around in the dark with our hands stretched out before us like two of the three blind mice.

Catching his look, I nodded, an exaggerated gesture as well. He turned back down the corridor and started moving. Like the caverns we had found ourselves in back in 2021, we didn’t know where to go, but like then, I wasn’t worried. Even if he didn’t know where he was going, Santino had a sixth sense that guided him instinctually. It was an interesting and almost supernatural ability, but it had served him well over the years. He was a born tracker, hunter, and scout, and he rarely missed a thing.

He didn’t really understand it either, but he theorized it was a skill he developed over the years as a kid. He’d grown up in one of the seedier areas of New York, and every day had been a quest just to stay alive. Gangs, pedophiles, rapists, and murders had been everywhere, and only a kid with a will to survive could make it home unscathed. He’d told me that not once over the years had he been beaten up or hurt because he had become adept at simply avoiding contact with those around him. He’d gotten really good at it, and had honed his skills by later tracking those he’d just as soon avoid.

However he received the ability, I was just glad he was here. It made my job easier. I technically could have been replaced by Helena on this mission, but Santino had to be here. All I had to do was follow him and cover his ass.

Galba had been mostly right. While I wouldn’t describe the ship’s interior as a honeycomb, it was certainly complex. Constructed similarly to ships of the future, it was constructed around long hallways and stairwells that took us between decks, offering a familiar environment to work in.

After discovering our first staircase, Santino descended three levels and headed aft. His logic probably centered along the notion that Agrippina’s stateroom would probably be near the middle and rear of the ship, the boat’s most secure part.

We passed room after room but saw nothing that appeared to be an entranceway to a room meant for an empress. We were just about to the stern stairwell when I saw a dim light coming around the corner of an adjacent hallway. Santino motioned for me to halt, and quickly flicked his hand towards the left side of the hall. He remained to the right, edging inside a door frame while I moved to the left, doing the same.

The candlelight grew brighter, and my NVGs grew dimmer to compensate for the increased illumination. When the figure holding the candle rounded the corner, my goggles compensated as well as it could, but the sudden brightness washed out my vision. I could still make out the target as a man, but his face was behind the flame, making it impossible for me to ID him. Santino, on the other hand, opted to act first and ask questions later, leaping on the man like a panther from a tree limb. He body checked him into the wall and pushed his forearm into the man’s neck, cutting off his air supply.