Alex Scarrow - Gates of Rome

Maddy glanced at Liam and Sal. ‘He’s found something!’

Sal looked heartened. ‘What? A time machine?’

‘Can you take us there right now?’ asked Maddy.

‘I can. But there’s a problem,’ Cato continued. ‘Three Stone Men guarding it.’

Liam translated that for Sal. She sighed.

‘Do you think your man could fight three of them at once?’ Cato looked at Bob.

‘They are lighter combat models,’ replied Bob. ‘I have a reasonable chance of success.’

‘And we’ll help you,’ said Macro, ‘if you need help, that is.’

All three units detected the faint signal at the same time; their eyes instantly locked on each other. It was weak and it flickered out of detectable range for a moment then was there again: an unidentifiable broadcast identification signal.

‘It is not one of ours. A different systems manufacturer.’ Stern narrowed his eyes. ‘The carrier signal’s ident tag has an older version packet header.’

The other two nodded in agreement. ‘V2.3.11.’

‘Agreed.’ Stern’s digital mind deconstructed the signal. [INFORMATION] Model Type — W.G. Systems Heavy Combat Model Batch number — 4039282 Activation year — 2054 OS — V2.3.11

‘Is this unit a threat?’ asked one of them.

‘If the unit compromises our user’s standing orders,’ said Stern, ‘it is a legitimate target.’

‘It’s a Heavy Combat Model, Stern,’ said the other. ‘Heavier than we are.’

He looked at his squad member, mildly impressed by the note of anxiety in the unit’s voice. An emotional stress indicator he must have picked up from a human and he was using quite convincingly now.

‘There are three of us. We have a significant numerical advantage.’

‘What if it has better weapons than us?’

Stern nodded. Certainly a concern. Although the three of them still wore their poly-graphene body armour, after all these years, their weapons were useless. It was strictly Roman-era swords and spears for them.

‘Unit-Chuck? Unit-Butch? I have an order for you.’

Both units stood to attention. ‘Affirmative.’

‘Locate and observe. Identify what weaponry the unit is carrying and report.’

‘Yes, sir.’ Stern watched them push past the drape and listened to their heavy-booted footsteps recede. His digital mind had some simple calculations to make. Several combat scenarios to evaluate should this newly arrived support unit attempt to prevent him and his men from carrying out Temporary-User-Caligula’s standing orders. But his actual mind, that tiny pink muscle linked by an umbilical cord of hair-thin data wires, was busy pondering how it was possible for another support unit, albeit a slightly older model, to be here in Ancient Rome.

AD 54, Imperial Palace, Rome

‘It’s off the main passage beyond the entrance portico,’ whispered Cato. ‘Hidden behind one of the Thracian drapes on the right.’ He turned to Maddy and Liam. ‘Could your Stone Man attempt to lure them away?’

Maddy shrugged. ‘It will depend on what orders they have. Won’t it, Bob?’

‘Affirmative. If guarding the doorway is a higher priority than attempting to eliminate a potential threat, then they will not attempt to pursue me.’

‘In which case we’ll just have to fight them,’ said Liam. He turned to Bob. ‘What do you think? Can we take ’em?’

‘It is possible.’

‘Possible?’ Maddy sighed. ‘OK… I guess I can go with “possible”.’

Cato nodded. ‘Shall we proceed, then?’

‘One moment,’ said Bob, cocking his head. His eyelids flickered.

‘What’s up?’ asked Liam.

Bob nodded, satisfied with something going on inside his head. ‘I am deactivating my local wireless communications system.’

‘Switching your Wi-Fi off?’ Maddy patted his back. ‘Good idea.’

Cato led them across the east gardens of the Imperial Palace, approaching a cordon of Praetorians guarding the eastern portico. The men stared suspiciously for a moment at the soot-covered people accompanying their tribune. But Cato snapped stiffly at them to remain focused on their duties and keep a watch on the perimeter walls for any looters attempting to take advantage of the city-wide chaos.

He walked them past the guards, out of the afternoon sun and into the cool, dimly lit labyrinth of Caligula’s palace, past marble columns and intricate, vividly coloured designs in mosaic tiles on the floor.

‘Wow, this is totally bindaas,’ Sal whispered softly, almost silently. Even so, her whisper echoed across the cavernous interior.

‘The palace should be entirely empty now, except for the three Stone Men,’ said Cato. ‘The slaves of the palace have been confined to their quarters; my men are all stationed outside the building watching the entrances. The gardens. It is just us inside.’

‘Which way?’

Cato nodded ahead. ‘This leads to the main passageway.’

The tribune led the way, with Bob by his side, a short sword clutched in each fist. Behind them Maddy and Sal, hands clasped anxiously. Bringing up the rear Liam and Macro, warily glancing behind them and into the shadows between columns. Their breathing echoed in the gloom, the tap of their feet sounding precariously loud.

Presently they looked out on to a broad passageway, almost as broad as any Roman thoroughfare. The walls towered to meet a ceiling of murals that depicted heroic scenes of — presumably — Caligula. It was punctuated every now and then with small skylight openings that allowed meagre shafts of sunlight to pierce the gloom and angle down on to the mosaic tile floor like muted spotlights.

Cato indicated to the right and cautiously led the way.

They walked slowly along the broad passage until finally Cato stopped and pointed at a gently shifting drape.

The others nodded.

Bob crossed the passageway until he stood beside the drape. A draught of cool air was teasing it. Liam could feel it on his skin as he, Macro and Cato stood, weapons ready, beside him.

And there it was again, the same thing that cursed him every time he faced the possibility of imminent violence, his legs trembling like the whiskers of a rodent. His mouth as dry as parchment.

He glanced quickly at Macro, his dark beard splitting with a grin of excitement. Beside him Cato, a foot taller, poised with a face almost as stone cold and impassive as Bob’s. Both men seemed utterly used to this — that moment of readiness before a fight. That final breath, that heartbeat before the calm became a bloody, thrashing chaos.

Liam sighed. Why can’t I ever look as ready as that?

Cato checked the others were ready then quickly leaned forward and pulled the drape aside.

AD 54, Imperial Palace, Rome

Maddy gasped at the sight of it. Standing there, legs planted astride, sword drawn almost as if it had been patiently waiting for them.

But it was the thing’s appearance that surprised her: the breathtaking historical contradiction. Standing there, in the flickering light of a pair of oil lamps with a gladius held ready in one hand and a gladiator’s shield in the other, was something quite unmistakably from the twenty-first century. A soldier in military olive green. A soldier wearing a polygraphene torso plate, shoulder and forearm armour plates, thigh and shin plates and black combat boots. At a glance — except for the sword and shield, that is — little different from the kind of special-forces guys she was used to seeing in grainy night vision sliding down ropes on to the terrace roofs of Al Qaeda hideouts.

‘You are not permitted beyond this point,’ it said almost politely. ‘Leave immediately.’

Bob met its gaze. ‘You must step aside.’