Page 1 of Thawed Gladiator Thrax

Chapter One

Skye

If I could have turned down this assignment and still kept my job, I would have vehemently refused. My immediate boss said this order came all the way from the top, Dara Hobson herself. Why the world’s third richest person would get involved with a low-level programmer like me is far above my pay grade.

Luckily, NextGenTech sweetened their demand with a generous bonus, free room and board, plus a per diem that would let me live like a queen. I couldn’t refuse the command to leave the country to work “on loan,” even though the project is so hush-hush I have no idea what I’ll be doing or who I’ll be doing it for.

So here I am, climbing out of a limo in front of a hospital in Switzerland. I guess I shouldn’t be too angry. It’s beautiful here in mid-summer, the temp is nice, and in all honesty, I don’t have a lot waiting for me back home in the U.S.

Usually, I sit in my cube at the office, or, better yet, work from home Tuesday through Thursday. I try to stay removed from the blow-back zone, keep my head down, and do my job—staying out of office politics. If my department head didn’t sign my birthday card every year, I’d bet money he didn’t know I existed.

But a few days ago, I was half-ordered, half-coerced into packing my bags and leaving the country for this top-secret project. Although corporate espionage is common, especially in hightech, the amount of secrecy surrounding this trip and my new duties has been astounding.

Although they’ve kept me in the dark, the last thing I expected was to wind up at a hospital. My mind flies with wild hypotheses as the limo driver pulls my two roller bags out of the trunk. With no more clarity than I’ve had since they ordered me on this assignment, I decide I might as well march through the door marked “Ancillary Services,” and find out what I’ve gotten myself into.

Perhaps the driver radioed ahead, because the moment I’m through the double doors, a smiling woman strides toward me, reaches for a handshake, and asks, “Skye Carter?”

“Um, hi?”

“I’m Laura Turner, kind of the head of the operation. Well, co-head.”

My new boss doesn’t even know her title? What kind of business is she running? “At any rate, I imagine you’d like to see your room and either unpack or sack out. Sorry to tell you that before we get to that, you’ll need to sign a stack of non-disclosure agreements.”

If I wasn’t so tense, Laura would look like someone I could be friends with. Her blonde hair bounces as she strides with an open expression and warm smile. No professional suit for her, nor is she wearing hospital scrubs. Instead, she’s wearing jeans, a t-shirt for a band I’ve never heard of, and Converse shoes.

My head is spinning from how fast she’s talking. Perhaps I’m jet-lagged.

She nods to the armed security guard, who wears the same blank expression as a Buckingham Palace guard. Then she leads me down a no-nonsense hospital hallway and into an unimposing office, making it clear that aesthetics are the last thing on her mind.

“I know this is all very mysterious,” Laura says, her tone softening as she motions to a chair tucked next to the opposite sideof a desk covered with a stack of legal documents with those little yellow “sign here” Post-its sticking out from the edges. “But I promise, once your signature is on these NDAs, you’ll understand why all the secrecy is necessary.”

I breathe deeply as my mind flies with questions. Perhaps to calm me, Laura adds, “Once you sign these and I tell you about the project, you can walk out that door. But we’ll be assured you won’t tell anyone our secret. Please see it from our point of view.”

Okay. When she puts it like that, I guess I’ve got nothing to lose.

The signing process seems to take forever. As my signature and initials add up, excitement builds, speeding through my veins.

The moment I’m done and push the stack back across the desk to her, she leans forward, her eyes shining with barely contained excitement. “What I’m about to tell you will sound absolutely crazy, but I swear every word is true.”

My pulse quickens, partly in anticipation, partly in dread. What could possibly warrant this level of secrecy, not to mention a warning that I won’t believe her?

Laura takes a deep breath. “We’ve discovered—and successfully retrieved and revived—a group of ancient Roman gladiators who were frozen in ice for nearly two thousand years.”

The words hang in the air between us. I wait for the punchline, but Laura’s expression remains deadly serious.

“That’s… impossible,” I stammer.

“I thought so too,” Laura admits. “Until I met Varro.”

“Varro?”

“My partner,” she explains, a dreamy smile playing on her lips. “Both in this project and… well, in life. I’m an archaeologist, the one responsible for finding him in a shipwreck and having him chipped out of the ice at the bottom of a trench in the Norwegian Sea. Through a series of events…” She tries to hide herwince, but it’s obvious those events were unpleasant. “The body I expected to remain lifeless accidentally thawed—and then began to breathe. He’s a gorgeous, kind, brilliant man who fought in the Colosseum when it was new.”

My mind reels, struggling to process this information. “You’re saying there’s a real, living ancient Roman? Here? Walking the halls of this Swiss hospital? Right now?”

Laura nods. “Yes. But there were others nearby who we retrieved and transported here. They’re cryogenically frozen in this state-of-the-art facility. Our first intentional revival is happening right now. We’re worried sick, of course. We don’t know if Varro was a fluke. Don’t know if any of the others will survive their… resurrection. Varro’s sorry he couldn’t be here to greet you, but he needed to be there when—if—his friend, Thrax, wakes up.”

“This is insane,” I mutter, rubbing my temples. “And the need for this level of secrecy?”

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