Tempus Fugit

This as much an alternate history story as anything else. Details and dates are accurate, with some minor creative liberties. Sex in this chapter happens near the end. Plots are as important to me as the dirty stuff!

And everyone's over 18.

***

I am Demmus Alfer, and this is my story. I am an exile, duly convicted and sentenced. My crime? I fell in love. With the wrong person. Oh, I don't blame Aurilaine. I never should have let myself get attached, or she attached to me. And I should certainly never have underestimated the reaction of her weak shit of a father once our relationship came to light.

It was my own damn fault. My feats on the battlefield had earned me a class 1B breeding license, which entitled me to couple with anyone in his own breeding class on down to class 5. The only social class forbidden was class 1A. Which of course Aurilaine was.

We were caught, inevitably. And I had to be punished. Because of my record, I was given a choice--castration or temporal exile. Sometimes a choice is no choice at all.

The Chief Justiciar of the League of Humanity cleared his throat and spoke in his pompous, droning way: "Demmus Alfer, you have pleaded guilty to forming an inappropriate relationship with an individual above your assigned class. You have chosen the sentence of temporal exile, to be served in the Roman Empire, as close to the year 20 Before the Common Era as you may be placed. Do you affirm your plea and your acceptance of the sentence?"

"I do," I said, staring straight ahead and showing no emotion.

"As an act of mercy, your embedded artificial intelligence, nanotechnology and cybernetic implants will remain activated. You will be given money appropriate to the time and place of your sentence to establish yourself, and have been allowed to take a limited amount of personal items."

"I thank the court for its mercy," I said dryly.

A man in formal robes stepped forward. The Shogun of New Edo, an old friend who'd made the long trip to Earth to champion my cause.

"I wish to state for the record that General Alfer's sentence, while legal, is not just. And that those who have engineered his exile will find today's victory will become ashes." I hoped he was right, but I'd never be around to see it.

"So noted. Begin portal power-up."

I was already dressed in nondescript clothes appropriate to ancient Rome, with one of my personal items—a metasteel katana given me by the Shogun years ago—tied to my belt, concealed by a wool cloak. I stepped toward the portal, already starting to shimmer.

The Shogun put his hand on my shoulder and murmured into my ear: "I will protect her, old friend. And I meant what I said. This momentary victory of weak men will become a great defeat."

"Thank you, Matsuo. I will not forget you," I said.

"Nor I you."

With that, I stepped through the portal.

***

Time travel has been something of an open secret for nearly a hundred years, growing out of the development of faster than light drive technology in the late 30th century. It was used chiefly for research; synthetic animals or plants would be sent into the past to passively collect the sights and sounds of long-gone eras or true records of significant events. Their storage crystals and their data would be recovered in the present. Attempts to send living observers in the past had failed. They disappeared, though telemetry indicated they'd survived the initial journey. The leading theory was that humans changed history, creating a new universe from the point where they altered events. Whatever the reason, time travel for humans was a one-way trip.

I must have blacked out for a few moments. When I came to, I was next to a road near a stone marker that read "X MILES." My head was buzzing like I'd been beaten by a hundred stun batons. I sent a message to Maggie, the AI embedded in a crystal wafer between my scalp and skull.

I waited nearly a second, a very long time for Maggie to respond. The communication was all internal but I processed it as if someone were speaking to me.

"Sorry boss," she said. "Took me forever to get back online."

"It was less than a second, Mags."

"As I said, forever. Stand by for internal diagnostic."

Almost everyone of importance in the League has an artificial intelligence embedded inside them, to store extra data as well as govern cybernetic implants and nanotech. Over time, they developed personalities all their own. Maggie was a dry sarcastic bitch, and I love her. As much as anyone can love a disembodied artificial being who lives in his head.

"Diagnostic completed boss. All priority-one systems optimal. Only damage is to reproductive settings."

"Report," I said. One of the things the nanobots in my body did was either inhibit, maintain, or enhance fertility depending on the settings.

"Setting stuck on 'enhanced fertility.' I'm sure you're devastated."

"Looks like it'll be the kamikaze pullout then. I don't believe condoms have been invented."

"Not unless you like tying sheep intestine on your junk, boss," Maggie replied helpfully.

"I'll pass, thanks. Analyze the stone."

"Standard mile marker. We're ten Roman miles from the Forum. Approximately 10.5 kilometers, though I can calculate the distance more precisely."

"That's good enough," I said. "Time to get walking."

I wasn't walking long before I heard a commotion ahead. A covered cart drawn by a two-ox team was stopped and being attacked by about half a dozen men. With a mental command I zoomed in; the cart driver was slumped over, dead or badly injured. Four of the men were trying to get into the back of the cart, being held at bay by someone inside wielding a gladius, a Roman short sword. The other two were advancing on a terrified looking young woman who looked to be in her late teens or early twenties. She was trying and failing to stand up.

I bounded forward, drawing my katana as I ran into the fray. I decided to attack the bandit trying to rape the girl first, and he never saw me coming. Metasteel is an exotic metal alloy bonded with diamond. The sword was a ceremonial gift given to me by Matsuo Kanaka, Shogun of New Edo but it was fully functional. It sliced through leather armor and flesh as though it were cloth. I nearly cut the would-be rapist in half. I dispatched his accomplice almost as quickly.

"Maggie, ready stun punch. Heavy." I'm sure whoever owns this cart will want at least one person alive to answer questions.

As with his two less fortunate companions, the bandit trying to get into the cart never saw me coming. My punch connected to his jaw, the implants delivering a heavy electric charge that left him unconscious and twitching on the ground. The two remaining thugs fled into the countryside.

"Thanks Maggie. And thanks for holding back the punching power. I'd have probably shattered his jaw."

"No problem boss."

The guard inside the cart emerged. He was dressed in a legionary's armor. He had his gladius at the ready.

"Who are you?" he asked. "What do you want?" Maggie's translation software worked perfectly. She fed the response to me, allowing me to respond in Latin.

"Introductions later. I'll see to the driver, you make sure the girl is OK."

I was in full command mode, and the soldier obeyed without question. The cart driver was fading fast, a gaping wound in his chest.

"Maggie, analysis."

"Wound will be fatal in approximately 15 minutes."

"Will a nanobot transfer help?"

"It will increase survival odds to 50%"

"Do it." One of my fingernails slid back; the concealed sprayer sent millions of molecule-sized nanobots into the driver's wound. The bleeding quickly stopped and I bandaged him. I went over to the side of the cart where the guard was trying to help the girl to her feet. Her knee was badly swollen.

"Torn ACL," said Maggie, anticipating my question. "Not surgically correctable with the medical knowledge of this time."

"Repair time with standard dose of nanos?"

"Repair time estimated at 3.7 hours. But Boss, that will deplete your own reserves below advisable levels."

"I'll risk it."

My internal dialog with Maggie was interrupted by a demanding female voice from inside the cart.

"Marcus! What's going on out there?"

I looked at the soldier. "Go. I'll see to the girl. I'm Demmus Alfer by the way."

"Marcus Metellus. I'll attend to Lady Selene. You have my gratitude."

Marcus went to the back of the cart. I bent over the girl. Olive-skinned with black hair, she'd be quite beautiful if her face wasn't twisted in pain.

"What's your name?"

"H-helen."

"Helen, I'm Demmus. Don't try to put weight on your leg. I'll carry you to the cart."

I picked Helen up, suddenly all too aware of her lushly curved hips and nicely squeezable ass. She was in so much pain she didn't notice the small prick of the nano injector—with no open wounds I couldn't just spray them as I had with the driver. I carried her to the back of the cart.

"There's no room," snapped the voice that had yelled for Marcus. She—Lady Selene, presumably—looked to be about the same age as Helen. They even resembled each other, though Selene's nose was more prominent and mouth wider. Quite attractive in her own right, or would be if she weren't such a sour brat.

"I'm afraid you'll have to make room for her. And the driver. He is badly wounded and Helen can't walk."

"And who are you, to command me so?"

"The one who saved your virtue and quite possibly your life. Now make room!" If Selene tried to test me, my depleted number of nanobots would make controlling my temper more difficult. Thankfully, she moved to obey, if sullenly. I couldn't be sure, but I could have sworn Marcus was suppressing a smile.

Marcus helped me get Helen and the driver—Gaius, his name was—settled and as comfortable as possible.

"Marcus, can you drive the cart?" Thanks to life experience and Maggie's software library, I had a wide range of skills, but driving an ox cart was a lost art in the 32nd century.

"Not with Gaius's skill, but I can manage."

A quick pace for oxen was still pretty slow. I sat at the front with Marcus, keeping watch as we drove. He was a veteran of the legion, now a private guard in an important household. He was reticent to name his employer and I didn't press. For my part, I told him the truth in broad strokes. That I was an exile from a far land, hoping to make a name and fortune in Rome. I let Marcus fill in the rest with his own assumptions. In about 3 hours, we were at the city gates. We were let in without delay and a messenger dispatched ahead of us. It was late and the streets were largely deserted, but it still took us time to wind through the narrow roads.

We were admitted to the stables area of what could only be described as a palace. A narrow-faced man in his early twenties greeted us, with a dark-skinned man and two muscular men behind him. The men were attired similarly to Helen. Slaves, at a guess.

"Marcus, I am glad to see you arrive safely. It seems you have a new friend."

I came down from the cart and bowed respectfully.

"I am Demmus Alfer."

"Dominus Tiberius, Master Alfer saved us. We were surprised by bandits and he came to our aid. Gaius was badly injured but is clinging to life. Helen injured her leg."

Tiberius? That would mean Marcus's employer was...

"Augustus has retired for the night. However, Master Alfer, I would like to offer you his hospitality this night, and I'm sure he would like to thank you personally in the morning." Tiberius turned to the dark-skinned man. "Moussa, take Gaius and do what you can for him."

The muscle-bound slaves put Gaius on a litter and took him off, following Moussa. Helen emerged, walking a little gingerly on her repaired knee but seemingly not in pain. Selene emerged last of all.

"Selene, I will have Helen attend to our guest. Meriamun can see to your needs tonight."

"Yes, Tiberius," she said sulkily.

So, I had saved someone in Augustus's household? I wasn't even a day into my exile and things were already getting interesting.

***

Helen returned, with food and wine. With my leave, she'd bathed and changed and was now wearing a thin linen shift. I hadn't noticed how full her breasts were. They stretched the linen, nipples clearly visible along with the shadow of her areoles. Being only human, I couldn't stop my eyes traveling down to the waist flaring out to inviting wide hips, nor the dark bush between her legs.

"36 DD, boss," said Maggie in my head, snapping out of my lustful woolgathering.

"What?"

"Her bra size. I assumed you'd want to know."

"You do realize they haven't invented bras, don't you?"

"Just trying to be helpful boss." Maggie was a voice, not a face; all the same I'd swear she was smirking.

Helen set down the wine and a plate of bread and cheese. "Do you require anything else, Master Demmus?"

I could swear she was hoping I did. I decided to feel her out.

"Nothing more, though I find I often have difficulty sleeping alone in a strange place."

"I will share your bed if you wish," Helen said. Her nipples stiffened and my ocular implants picked up her dilating pupils. She wanted this, and my thickening cock told me I did too. But I had to make one thing clear first.

"Helen, I know you are a slave. And I know enough of Roman custom to know I can command you to meet any need. I have no problem sending you with food or having you help me bathe. But I only share my bed with those freely willing to do so. If you do not, I will take no offense nor say anything to your mistress and masters."

"I—I would like to stay. I find you attractive. And you saved my life. I am not ungrateful."

"Then I welcome your company. Share food with me and then we'll retire."

The bread, cheese and wine made a great dinner. I yawned. The day was catching up with me.

"I think it's time for bed," Helen said. She pulled her shift over her head and I'll admit, my jaw dropped. In my time, cosmetic surgery and genetic manipulation meant no one was ugly who didn't want to be. Helen was stunningly beautiful. Softly rounded but still toned—as a household slave she didn't have as hard as some but she still worked, work that toned her body. Her black hair cascaded down past her full breasts, and muscular thighs framed a tidy black bush. Even wide-eyed with lust and desire, her face had an innocent freshness about it. I couldn't help but stare.

"What?" she asked, pretending ignorance. "It is a warm night. Shall I undress you?"

Struck mute, I could only nod. Expertly but sensually she peeled my tunic off me. She looked down at my erect cock. "Hmm. I take it I do not displease you?"

"Certainly not." I kissed her deeply, and she kissed back with enthusiasm, our tongues dueling. I maneuvered her to the bed and laid her down.

"I want to pleasure you," Helen said. My only response was to kiss her neck and her throat, moving down to her magnificent breasts. I took a nipple in my mouth and sucked on it, licking at the same time. Helen reacted as if electricity were running through her.

"That feels...oh...it brings so much pleasure. I might reach my peak right now."

I moved to the other nipple, and her panting and gentle moans picked up. I left off to kiss my way down her stomach. Taking care with her still-healing knee, I parted her legs. Her bush was already damp, her slit glistening wet.

"What are you..ahh...ahh" My tongue began exploring her clit and folds and drove the speech right out of her. She tasted strong but not unpleasant. Helen squirmed as I continued my oral onslaught, her moans becoming breathier and breathier. A readout only I could see indicated she was ovulating and at peak fertility. I could pull out.

Helen panted faster and faster. "Oh gods!" she cried out as she thrashed in sweet agony. I came back up.

"But...but...I wanted to pleasure you," Helen said. "No Roman man..."

I cut her off by putting a finger in her pussy. She was soaking wet. I put the finger to her lips in a shushing motion. She licked it, tasting herself.

"I'm not Roman," I said. "And where I'm from, we have a custom—ladies first."

Helen giggled. "I want you in me."

I rubbed the head of my cock up and down the entrance of her lips, running it over her clit and bringing and appreciative moan. I slid in slowly. She was so tight, but already so wet there was little resistance.

"That was pleasantly painful," she panted.

I gave her a moment to get used to me in her. Her hips twitched and I began pumping. One of the many things my nanobots could do was dampen pain and pleasure responses. I dampened the pleasure just enough so I didn't blow the moment I slid inside. It had been nearly a year since I'd slept with a woman, and I'd spent that year too depressed to masturbate. This felt good and I wanted it to last.

Helen's hips met my every thrust. She was getting close to another orgasm, and her hand came down to her clit to rub and get her over the edge. I tweaked my own responses to time my own climax perfectly.

She was screaming incoherently in Latin, Greek and it at least one other language I didn't recognize as her second orgasm ripped through her. I wasn't far behind.

"I'm close, Helen," I said.

"Seed me! Spend inside me! Fill me up!"

"But what if you—"

"Inside me, dammit!"

That was all it took. My cock throbbed, jetting my potent sperm inside her. Helen had another, less intense, orgasm, our cries mingling as thoroughly as our juices.

"Stay in me," she said as the throbs in my penis subsided. "You feel so good."

"You feel good too. That was the best I've had in a long time."

I softened and fell out of her, and I rolled off onto my side. We spooned and soon sleep claimed us both.

***

Babylon, 332 BCE

Alexander of Macedonia's wife and queen, Roxane, showed the silent healer in. The healer's face and body were concealed by a long robe and deep cowl. Roxane said nothing; she'd been warned that this order of healers never spoke, and if spoken to would depart immediately. She was also warned that the magic may not work in any case, but was Alexander's last hope.

The healer put a gold-colored cap on Alexander's feverish head and sat an ornate box by his sickbed. The healer did nothing but watch the box intently for a few moments. Roxane continued to say nothing for fear of interrupting the ritual and offending whatever strange gods this healer served.

The healer removed the cap from Alexander's head, closed the box, and left, remaining silent all the while.

Everyone was far too worried about Alexander's illness to notice that the healer, box, cap and all, rounded a corner and stepped through a shimmering portal that then vanished in mid-air.