The Last Roman (Praetorian Series - Book One) by Edward Crichton Page A

numerous pockets
and pouches that were scattered around the stomach area, chest,
sides, and back.
    The back of my rig held a CamelBak water filtration
device that made hydration far more convenient than a canteen.
Alongside it was a small computer cleverly tucked away near the
CamelBak to keep it out of the way and ventilated. It was
wirelessly connected to an eye piece that hung in front of my left
eye. The eye piece, which was no more than a thin, translucent lens
operated as a GPS device, a screen to view videos, a compass, and a
rudimentary targeting reticule amongst other things. The computer
was synced to my teammates’, so I could intercept data updates such
as grid coordinates and targeting data.
    In order to send and receive these updates, a thin,
long touch screen interface would be attached to my left forearm.
It was covered by a protective sheath, which could be pulled off at
its Velcro seams so that I could view and interact with the screen.
It had a small, joystick, which had a directional stick and two
buttons. It acted like a computer mouse. I could extend the
joystick into my left hand with a quick flick of my wrist, making
the entire set-up fully functional with my left arm alone and
function just as well as the touch screen. Complete with Blue Force
Tracking Tech III software, updated only a year ago, I could upload
troop positions on a map with a simple touch of the interface,
overlay my own map over satellite imagery, or call in airstrikes
with a single tap of the finger. The possibilities were almost
endless. It was a handy tool, but not one a good soldier relied
upon in combat.
    My last piece of equipment lay alongside the back of
the locker, entombed in a solid protective case. As I placed it on
the bench next to me, I accidentally bumped into my companion once
again. I was about to apologize when I realized she ignored my
mistake and continued cleaning her own weapon.
    I opened the case and pulled out my closest ally and
true love, my HK416 Gen II assault rifle, Penelope, as I had named
her. Despite being decades old in design, thanks to the veritable
hold on military R&D, mine was manufactured only two years ago
with many new bells and whistles.
    Penelope had been the loyal wife of Odysseus in
Homer’s The Odyssey , my favorite epic. Despite her husband’s
absence for twenty years, and dozens of hopeful suitors hoping to
take his place on the throne, she remained faithful, waiting
patiently until he finally returned. I was a sucker for a good love
story, and I hoped that like the woman of myth, my weapon would
remain just as loyal.
    The weapon, based originally on the design of the
M4A1 carbine, had been a common sight amongst the American military
for the past half century. It was always a favorite, due to its
ability for customization, reliability, stopping power, and ease of
use. Few M4s and other variations of said gun, such as the HK416,
looked the same in the hands of U.S. Special Forces, as each
carried a unique mark of its owner.
    I reached for a cloth and rubbed its exterior,
wiping away the subtlest pieces of dust and lint. “It’s been awhile
Penelope,” I said to the gun, “I hope you’ve kept yourself out of
trouble while I’ve been away.”
    I only hoped Strauss didn’t overhear me. My theory
was that if you love and respect your equipment like you do a
person, it will in turn treat you with the proper respect and never
let you down. Although, some inferred it to mean you were a crazy
person, although I had no idea why.
    After field stripping and cleaning the rifle, as
well as inspecting the ACOG-II Scope, SureFire flashlight/laser and
bi-pod, I finished wiping down the exterior and gently put it back
in its case. “Goodnight,” I said quietly, hoping my companion
didn’t hear me. “Sleep tight.”
    I placed the case back in the locker, gave the
entire enclosure another look, tossed my Hawaiian shirt inside,
nodded in satisfaction, and shut the cage.
    Donning a more