Gates of Rome

CHAPTER 63

AD 54, Imperial Palace, Rome

‘I can’t let you in, sir…’ The optio grimaced uncomfortably at the thought of challenging his centurion’s order. He craned his neck to look through the iron grille of the gate to get a better look past Fronto at the soot-covered people behind him. ‘I can’t let them into the palace grounds, sir.’ He swallowed nervously. ‘Standing orders.’

‘Your orders, Septimus lad, are exactly what I say they are. Now open this gate!’

The optio looked unhappily at Fronto. Torn between the dressing-down his centurion looked like he was about to give him and fear of what would happen to him if ever Caligula discovered he’d opened the north-west gate and let in some uninvited strangers.

‘Is this on the emperor’s orders, sir?’

Fronto sighed. He was about to let rip at the optio with a blast of colourful language when Cato appeared beside him. ‘It’s all right. Let them in, Septimus. They’re my property. I just wanted to bring them into the imperial grounds for safekeeping.’

The optio nodded at his tribune. ‘Right, sorry, sir… I just — ’

Cato shushed him and smiled. ‘Quite all right, you were doing your job.’

The bolt slid back and the iron gate swung inwards. Fronto threw his optio a withering glare as he led his men and the others inside the gardens and the gate was slammed shut again.

Cato looked at his old friend Macro first, then at Maddy and the others. ‘What happened?’

‘A fire happened,’ grunted Macro. ‘It’s all gone, my investment. My retirement fund, everything.’

‘There are fires all over the city,’ said Fronto.

Cato nodded. The smell of burning was on the air, and a pall of smoke hung in the sky. He spoke to Fronto. ‘Best assign your men back to their posts immediately, Centurion.’

Fronto nodded. ‘Right you are, sir.’

Cato waited until Fronto had finished barking orders and the legionaries had dispersed to their deployment positions around the imperial grounds.

‘I can take you to the Temple of Neptune in the palace,’ said Cato. ‘I believe that’s where you may find what you’re looking for. The things belonging to the Visitors.’

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.