The Last Roman (The Praetorian Series - Book I) by Edward Crichton
IV
War
Mediterranean Sea, Syrian Coast
July, 2021
The next day, we were once again in our wetsuits and awaiting the go ahead to get our feet wet, the past day having been relatively uneventful, a first for me these days. I spent the time chatting with Santino and my new teammates, exercising, resting, and making sure my gear was ready to go, all of which was once again safe in its waterproof bag.
To get off the sub, we were going out the same way we came in. Helena and I were first out, and were well on our way to removing the CRRC from the sub’s external equipment locker by the time Vincent and Santino pressurized the hatch for their use.
The Combat Rubber Raiding Craft was simple in design and nature, and had a legacy almost as long as the SEALs themselves. Stored, it was the size of a small sofa, folded around its high powered engine. When we disengaged the mechanism keeping the sub’s external storage area door closed, the CRRC shot out, inflating as it sped toward the surface.
Helena stared up after it, prompting me to give her a quick nudge. When I had her attention, I pointed upwards and waggled my hand in a swimming motion, indicating she should head up after the boat. She nodded and went on her way.
I waited a few seconds for the next group to come through the submarine’s hatch. As soon as I saw Santino’s head pop out, I began my ascension.
After breaking the surface, it was a quick swim to the boat which was conveniently deployed and ready to go, and a simple exertion of muscle got me aboard. Helena was already there, removing her re-breather and donning her combat armor. She cut a pretty sexy figure in the moonlight, as her wetsuit glimmered tightly against the curves of her body and her damp black hair shimmered in the subtle light given off by the moon
I couldn’t help but smile as she covered her hair with a backwards baseball cap and painted her face with a stick of black camo chalk. She went light with the chalk in areas that produced natural shadows like her eye sockets, and darker in places that reflect light, like her cheeks and forehead. Good training, and I had to admit the hat was rather fetching on her.
“What?” She asked, noticing my attention. “Does it work?”
She started performing poses with the hat and made goofy facial expressions as she modeled it for me.
I laughed. “It looks good. You may pass for a sniper yet.”
“Ha. You know, we never got around to finding out who’s the better shot. When we get back. You and me. On the range. Maybe then you’ll put your money where your mouth is.”
Her banter was calming and the playful inflection took all the sting out of her comments as she handed me the chalk.
“You’re on, sister,” I shot back.
As I took off my re-breather gear, Santino surfaced just off the starboard side.
“Hey! Quit smooching and help me up.”