I gulped. I had a feeling where this was going.
He continued. “As we campaigned this past summer, he amused me with many stories, the particularly interesting ones revolving around events that occurred four years ago. The stories themselves weren’t of particular surprise, as I had heard them many times amongst camp gossip and with my legates over dinner.” His eyes drilled through mine as I tried to maintain my composure. He didn’t seem convinced that I had any idea what he was talking about. “Oh, you know the ones. The stories about Caligula and a group of people from… well… that part isn’t always so clear. However, what made this man’s rendition of these tales all the more interesting was that he seemed to know more than most. Do you know who I am speaking of?”
I cleared my throat and fidgeted in my chair. Helena didn’t seem particularly comfortable either. The tone in the room had shifted completely. How easy it had happened was unsettling.
“Galba?” I answered.
“Galba, indeed,” he said with a slow nod of his head. “You should know that when he first told me these stories, I did not believe him. How could I? Claudius a traitor? An orb of magical powers? Time traveling soldiers from an era of flying machines that can reach Luna and weapons that can destroy entire cities? Ridiculous! Yet…” He paused, leaning forward to rest his elbows on the table, his chin held up by his hands. “…here you are. Tell me; is it true your weapons can kill from miles away?”
I deferred to Helena.
She shrugged, smiling meekly. “Yes, but it isn’t easy.”
“It. Isn’t. Easy,” Vespasian responded, with a slow shake of his head as he straightened his posture. “A very interesting response. Humble, yet most would say it was impossible.”
“Galba’s told you more, hasn’t he?” I asked.
“Oh yes… far more.”
“Did he speak of Agrippina?”
“Ah, the lovely Agrippina,” he said, rolling his head as he spoke, “yes, well, we shall get to her soon enough. But first, I have a question for you. As I said, Galba has informed me of where you come from. I understand how you came to be here, at least, as far as anyone could honestly understand it, and wish to sympathize with you. However, your arrival is an accident, and if I truly understand everything, possibly a detrimental one. Now, choose your words very carefully, for your response is most important…”
Before asking, he leaned back in his chair and held the back of his head with his hands. I wasn’t sure if the posture was meant to throw us off, intimidate us or give us false hope. Considering the ambiguity the man had displayed thus far, I couldn’t even begin to guess. Even so, he stared me dead in the eyes, shifting his attention to Helena, and back to me.
“This is my home. Rome,” he said. “Flawed as it is, it’s one I care very deeply for. So I must know, what gives you the right to interfere with it as you have for the past five years?”
His question was steady, but strain was obviously evident. He didn’t sound angry, but there was sternness in the question. I felt Helena’s hand reach out and grip my own, giving it a tender squeeze. Vespasian noticed but didn’t comment. I looked at her and she gave me a supportive smile.
This was it. The question. The one I had struggled with and attempted to justify since we’d arrived here. I took a deep breath and tried to collect my thoughts before answering.
Vespasian waited patiently for almost two minutes.
“The right,” I started, glancing up from my thoughts. “A very interesting concept, don’t you think?” Vespasian didn’t respond, but I didn’t expect him to. “Well, I’ve always thought so. I mean, who really has the right to anything? Has God,” I paused, “or gods, ever come down and personally proclaimed anything for anyone? Maybe. I’ve spent my entire life in the belief of a supreme being, and I still do, but when I think of what ‘rights’ he has given me, my conclusions always draw me to a single thing.”
“And what is that?” Vespasian asked.
I paused and looked at Helena.
“To life,” I said turning back to him. “My government added extra little things like ‘liberty and the pursuit of happiness,’ but those are social constructs, created in the hope that people would strive for more with those principals beneath them. But life, well, there is no one out there who can deny me my right to live, and if they threaten it, I will defend it. I have the responsibility for self-preservation and a responsibility to protect those I love.”
Helena squeezed my hand again.
“Our arrival here was, as you said, an accident, and yes, a potentially detrimental one.” I took a deep breath. “And it was my fault. I have carried this blame on my shoulders for five years, and it gets heavier by the minute. At times I feel like Hercules taking the world off of Atlas’ shoulders for a while the responsibility seems so great. But because it was my fault, it is also my job to put things right.” I paused again, taking yet another breath. “Our interference, as you put it, has possibly changed your history, and very possibly the lives of trillions, but, honestly, I couldn’t care less.”
Vespasian opened his mouth to speak, but I defiantly cut him off with an upraised hand.
“In fact, I only care about one thing, and that’s getting me, my friends, and the woman sitting next to me home. They are all I care about. But we have to fix what we’ve broken first. Only we know what needs to be done, and only we have the means to accomplish it.”
My right hand started shaking in frustration upon my knee as I spoke. I looked down at it and clenched it into a fist to quell it, placing it in my lap before continuing.
“Where I come from, we have a saying. ‘If it isn’t broke, don’t fix it,’ but sir,” I said with half a chuckle, “we broke something. Something that could have ramifications thousands of years from now.” I paused, shaking my head at the floor before continuing. “It’s something we… I… have to fix it, and that gives us… gives me… the right to do everything I need to do. If I can’t do that we’re as good as dead anyway. The only real question is whether you’ll help me or not.”
Vespasian remained in his chair, his fingers now linked together in support of his chin. He seemed deep in thought. Perhaps he had already made a decision before we arrived and something I had said made him rethink his position. Or perhaps he’d had no prior thoughts on the issue at all, and was weighing his options carefully.
Whichever the case was, Vespasian had always been a thinker, and he had also been a level headed and compassionate man. In fact, one of his greatest characteristics, in my opinion, had always been his adherence to the codes and mannerisms of Augustus Caesar, who had preached careful management, thought before action, hard work, moral determination, and simply making rational decisions. He’d been an inspiration for Vespasian, and I only hoped it wasn’t a sentiment the man before me was still destined to develop later in life.
“You speak well, Hunter,” he finally said. “I feel the conviction in your words, as well as this burden you speak of. I have to agree that if I were in your situation, I would want nothing more than to find my way home as well. That is why I have decided to help you.”
“You have?” Helena asked skeptically.
“Yes,” he replied easily. “Even before Galba spoke of you, I had heard your stories. Everyone has. Vani, correct? I did not know you were these vigilantes at the time, but there isn’t a man, woman or child in the Empire who has not heard of you. What you have done for all those people is beyond reproach. You are noble and valorous, having had no reason to help them at all. With your abilities, you could have taken control of Rome itself had you desired, but you did not. You did the right thing. Meeting you both has reinforced what I already suspected: that you are worth helping.”