The Vagabonds (The Code of War Book 4)

by Jim Roberts

  “You will have our aid when you have given me what you promised, Damien.”

  “The drone army is not fully optimized yet. I need more time and to get that time, I need Olympus to find and destroy these goddamn Vagabonds!” The industrialist was barely hiding his disdain for Titus now.

  “Just remember our agreement, Sledge. Deliver your side, and I promise Olympus will deal with Lennox and his Vagabonds. Now get some rest. You look like you could use some.”

  Before Sledge could say anything more, Titus hit the Disconnect option on the laptop. The screen flicked back to the floating logo of the Olympus PMC; that of a coyote head amidst a coat of arms.

  The Olympus Secondus sat back in his chair. His deal with Sledge would be the linchpin to securing the Imperator’s patronage for succession.

  Damien Sledge was one of the richest industrialists living in South America, and probably the world’s leading independent designer of drone technology. A self-made billionaire, the man was a genius in the field of robotics and A.I. research. Many of his concepts had been adapted for use within the Code of War. He also owned Sledge Aeronautics, a private space transit manufacturer that provided many nations around the world with satellites and rocket technology.

  Titus had been chosen by Tiberius to helm Olympus’s negotiations with Sledge. At first, Titus had been insulted at the notion of having to act as a lowly diplomat, but soon warmed to the idea when he learned of a plan Sledge had been hatching. Titus had quickly found out that Sledge was paranoid about almost everything. The man saw enemies in his cereal and kept all of his business dealings close to his chest.

  While negotiating for the use of Sledge’s aeronautics company, Titus learned the billionaire was developing something in secret—a drone army. After constructing a secret location several hundred kilometers west of Caracas, the capital of Venezuela, Sledge had shored up enormous amounts of resources in preparation to sell the army to the highest bidder on the world stage.

  Titus had managed to get the first bid.

  The cost was exorbitant, but Sledge had agreed to sell the drone army to Titus if Leo Lennox and his group of Vagabonds were driven out of Venezuela. It had seemed like a fairly simple request and Titus had gladly taken the deal. It was only in the weeks after that Titus learned how difficult it was to swat the flies calling themselves the Vagabonds. And now, with the Vagabonds coming closer to sniffing out Sledge’s partnership with Olympus, Titus would soon have to take care of things personally. Otherwise, Sledge and his company may be erased from the equation.

  And that absolutely could not happen.

  A knock at the door pulled Titus out of his thoughts.

  “Who is it?”

  “It’s Falco, my Secondus. May I enter?”

  Titus shut down the laptop and stood up. He opened the door to reveal his one-time nursemaid, the old war dog Falco. Now a Tribune, after his efforts during the Zimbalan campaign, the man had donned his traditional obsidian battle armor. His white hair was immaculately combed and his beard and goatee well groomed.

  “I’m sorry, my lord, but the Imperator’s aircraft will be arriving in five minutes.”

  Without another word, Titus closed the door and followed Falco through the personnel quarters.

  It was time to face the music.

  STANDING ON the Ascension Island airport landing pad, Titus anxiously awaited the aircraft carrying the Imperator of the Olympia Brotherhood. Beside him stood Falco and nearly the entire 2nd Olympia Cohort. All non-essential personnel had also been called to witness the arrival of the man who had shepherded Olympus into the world force it was today. This would be the fourth time in his life Titus would meet his father and he was fully prepared to give his all. He would not allow Tiberius to show him up on such a grand stage.

  The sound of a vehicle pulled Titus’s attention from the sky. A small utility vehicle drove up to park beside Titus and Falco.

  Tiberius, Legate of the Olympia Brotherhood, stepped off the vehicle to join the welcoming procession. Titus was glad for the mask he wore, as it hid the scowl of hatred for the Olympus Legate. The man may have saved him as he lay dying on the field after the destruction of Prometheus, but Tiberius never let him forget it. The Legate’s cold eyes always seemed to sparkle with the knowledge that if it had not been for him, Titus would have been left to die.

  The idea of him owing his life to the Olympus Legate sickened Titus.

  “What is the Imperator’s ETA?” Tiberius asked, taking his place slightly in front of Titus within the procession.

  “Any moment now, my Legatus,” Titus spoke quietly. Tiberius barely managed a nod in reply.

  In the month since making their arrival on Ascension, Olympus had transformed the once laid-back island paradise to something more agreeable to a professional army’s standards. With the British having bigger issues to deal with domestically, thanks to the recession caused by the European Union withdrawal, Olympus was now free to begin construction on its new home in the south Atlantic. Engineers had been working overtime to convert the substandard buildings into state of the art fortifications. Ships sent from their allies in Africa and South America landed daily to deliver supplies and equipment. Olympus maintained contracts with over fifteen countries the world over and in order to pay for the protection the PMC provided, tithes were sometimes in order.

  After a moment of waiting, an aircraft appeared over the horizon. Long and sleek, it was similar in size to the old Lockheed Blackbirds of the Cold War. The Olympus Empusa craft swung low over the island and came in for a landing in front of the procession. Falco turned to the Cohort of fully armed Centurions, Legionnaires, and Praetorian soldiers and barked, “Attention!” The armed procession immediately snapped to.

  The side door of the aircraft opened.

  Titus felt his stomach tighten. The thought of meeting his father in the flesh for the first time in five years made him excited and nervous all at once.

  After the gangway had lowered, several Praetorian guards—the coyote helmed elite shock troops of the Olympus PMC—marched off and onto the tarmac.

  They were immediately followed by the Imperator, Undisputed Supreme Commander of Olympus. Dressed in a simple obsidian black uniform, the leathery-skinned man that exited the craft resembled a shell of a human being.

  Beside him—helping the old man down the gangway—was a beautiful blonde woman Titus had never seen before. She was small, perhaps just over five feet, but with a strong athletic body packed into a suit of form-fitting Olympus combat armor.

  Despite the presence of Titus’s father, he felt his eyes constantly drift toward the woman. She was stunning—a goddess made flesh and blood. Walking with an athletic, feline grace, the woman held the Imperator’s hand as they made the slow walk toward the welcoming procession. The 2nd Cohort, at the sight of the old man, ordered arms and flung their hands over their right breast in the traditional Olympus salute, bellowing out as one, “Imperator, we salute you!” The phrase was repeated over and over as the procession declared its loyalty to its commander.

  Titus noted several other arrivals leaving the plane after the Imperator. Two women marched down the gangway and followed after the Imperator closely. Unlike the blonde, Titus recognized these women very well.

  The Sirens.

  Olympus’s elite female crack unit of field operators, they mostly stayed in the shadows, working whatever dirty job Tiberius or the Imperator required of them. The first woman was tall, easily six and a half feet. Dark skinned, thin as a blade of grass and decked out in a tight bodysuit, she strode across the tarmac like she owned the place. Her bald head was held high—her expression coldly neutral.

  Fausta.

  Titus knew of the woman’s fearsome reputation. Commander of the elite group of female shock troopers known as the Secutors, she was trained by Agrippina herself.

  The other woman was night and day different from her towering companion. Wrapped in a black cloak and hood, she walked behind Fausta, h
er scared eyes glancing around the tarmac nervously. What little could be seen of her face showed several grisly scars that etched their way along the sides of her head.

  That would be Claudia, Titus told himself.

  The Legate marched forward to greet the Imperator. Titus and Falco followed closely behind.

  Tiberius struck his hand over his breast in salute.

  “Salve, my Imperator. Welcome to Ascension Island.”

  Falco and Titus followed suit, each saluting the most powerful man in the Olympia Brotherhood.

  The Imperator nodded, leaning heavily on the young blonde woman. “Ad Manus Fratrum, Legate Tiberius,” he said in his deep voice. Titus noted that his father’s sickness had not affected his extraordinary ability to strike fear into a man with only the sound of his demonic voice.

  “You must be tired from your flight, father.” Titus gestured to the Command Tower, “Please allow me to accompany you to your quarters.”

  The Imperator waved off the suggestion, “No need. Vorena here is quite capable of that duty. Thank the men for me personally. I will meet with you and the other Lords at the Tower in half an hour.”

  Titus moved up to speak, “Father, I—”

  The Imperator interrupted his Secondus, “There will be time for formalities later. Dismiss the men for me, Tiberius. I must take my leave.”

  “As you wish, my Imperator.” The Legate bowed and stepped aside. The woman called Vorena led the Imperator to the waiting Utility Transport and helped him onto it. Before joining him on the small vehicle, Vorena’s eyes landed on Titus. The young Secondus felt suddenly cowed at the sight of those piercing blue eyes. The moment ended as Vorena turned away to help the Imperator sit. After the other two women stepped aboard, the vehicle trundled off to the Command Tower, the makeshift hub for the Olympus military on Ascension.

  Falco dismissed the Cohort, who dispersed back to their original jobs. Tiberius, saying nothing more, joined his own entourage, leaving Falco and Titus to converse with each other on the tarmac.

  “So that is Vorena,” Titus said, the look the woman gave him still hot in his mind’s eye.

  Falco nodded. “The leader of the Sirens. No one has ever seen her before. I certainly haven’t. Why would she show herself here—now?

  “No idea. I didn’t know the Sirens were so…close to my father.”

  “Your father…I’ve never seen him so frail,” Falco said, worriedly.

  ‘I know,” Titus admitted, “I don’t have much time…”

  * * *

  THE IMPERATOR set down the wine glass and dabbed his lips with a napkin. A table had been laid out in the top floor of the Command Tower of Ascension Island. Built with prefab components from the ground up near the old Wideawake base, it was the home to the Olympus Commanders. The tower overlooked much of the airfield and its location had been specifically chosen due to the old RAF bunker located underneath. While still far from being completed, the tower was more than capable of providing the PMC with all of the support it required to control its many operations around the world.

  On the top floor of the tower was a stark, but skillfully designed formal room, where the Lords of Olympus could meet and discuss details about operations in some semblance of comfort. A table had been set and a dinner served for the attendees. A lavish meal of pan-fried marlin caught off the shoreline of the island was laid out, along with roasted corn and tomato relish.

  Not that Titus cared. He refused to take off his mask in the presence of Tiberius.

  Little was said during the meal. Titus noted his father ate very little. The Imperator, looking little more than a sunken bag of leather, attempted to eat with the aid of the woman, Vorena. Titus felt his eyes constantly slip toward the woman. For once, he was glad for the mask he wore—allowing him to hide his interest. The woman was beautiful in a way he’d never read about. Her high cheekbones belied her smooth, almost impossibly perfect skin, tanned a delicate brown. Her blonde hair cascaded around the obsidian body armor like a stream of spun gold.

  The woman was exquisite.

  Tiberius, who sat opposite Titus at the stainless steel table, broke the silence of the meal.

  “The Venezuela operation has so far been proceeding according to plan, my Imperator. We’ve landed another cohort at our Caracas HQ to help maintain the, ah, ‘peace’ of the city. With good luck on our side, we will soon cow this People’s army that stands against the government.”

  The Imperator seemed uninterested in the news, “Fine, fine. What about Leo Lennox? Has he been found?”

  Titus, with no small amount of satisfaction, saw Tiberius flinch at the question.

  “Our attempt to capture Lennox was met with...complications.” Tiberius fixed Titus with an angry stare, “Apparently, the order to not harm the man was met with deaf ears. Lennox has disappeared again. For all we know, he’s dead. I have Praetorians disguised throughout the country searching for the Vagabond’s base of operations. It will not take long—”

  “It has already taken far too long, Lord Tiberius. Lennox must be found. As a descendant of Honorius, his bloodline still serves a purpose. Spare nothing in returning him to Olympus, understood?”

  “Yes, my Imperator.” Tiberius lowered his eyes.

  Titus decided to make his play, “Father, there is something I’ve been working on for the past month—something I know you will be proud of.”

  The Imperator fixed Titus with a withering glance, “Do you mean the drone army that maggot Damien Sledge promised you?”

  Titus felt the next words dry up in his mouth. It took his brain a moment to catch up with his mouth. “I…yes. How did—?”

  “Do you really need to ask such a question, boy? I was informed the day after you made that deal. Did you really think you could hide such a thing from me?”

  Titus stammered, “But…I…father…”

  There was a glint in the Imperator’s dark eyes as he spoke again, “Hush, boy. For now, your foolish ambition may actually be of some use. Olympus has stretched its resources to the maximum over these last few months. The Sudan, Yemen, Syria and now Venezuela. We have much on our plate. This drone army could alleviate our strain, at least for the near future. You have done well, Titus.”

  Titus was confused by the sudden praise. “Thank you father,” was all he managed to reply.

  Tiberius seethed in his chair opposite Titus. “My lord, I was completely unaware of such a plan by the Secondus here. I should have been informed the moment this deal was made—”

  The Imperator raised a hand, silencing the Legate, “Well now you have been informed, Tiberius. My son made a decision on his own, one that is in the best interest of Olympus. And as such, it is fitting that he should leave tomorrow and see that everything goes smoothly.”

  Titus felt his stomach churn. “Ah…I don’t understand, father. The deal is struck. All that Sledge requires now for payment is to see the Vagabonds be wiped from Venezuela.”

  “Yes indeed,” the Imperator replied, his deep voice filling the room, “and you shall go there and fulfill that request personally.”

  Tiberius, his mood changing abruptly, sat back in his chair, “Yes, I agree, my Lord. A mission of great honor, well worth the time and effort of Olympus’s Secondus.”

  Titus was glad for the mask just then, as his scowl would have withered plants, “Father…there are others far more capable than I to take this job. I should remain by your side. There is much you need to teach me. Perhaps Saladin could find these terrorists—”

  “Saladin is already in the country, aiding the urban pacification of Caracas. I need someone I can rely on to take this mission.”

  Titus slumped in his chair. “Yes…of course father, I will—”

  The Imperator cut Titus off with a gesture, “I was not referring to you, Titus. Vorena and her Sirens shall lead the hunt for this man Lennox and his group of Vagabonds. You shall act as her second in command.”

  Titus felt a burst of rage explode in his
chest, “I am to be her second? Father, you can not—”

  The mood of the room turned cold. Titus caught himself before he could say more. In the corner of his eye, he could tell Tiberius was smiling.

  The Imperator struggled up to his feet. Vorena leaped up as well, helping the old man.

  “You will do as I say, boy! I have watched you fail again and again these past years. Your ineptitude has proven to be a boon this time and I will not see you foul it up with your idiocy. Vorena has as much field skill as any man here. You will follow her orders, is that underst—” The Imperator was wracked with a fit of coughing that almost knocked him off his feet. Vorena attempted to set the old man back in his seat, but the Imperator waved her off, “No my dear. Take me to my quarters. I must rest.”

  Titus, along with Falco and Tiberius, stood up from the table in respect as the Imperator moved toward the door.

  Before he left, the Imperator turned to address his son, “A true son of Olympia follows the commands of his Imperator. Can I rely on you, son of Olympia?”

  Titus nodded, lowering his masked head to the ground, “Yes, my Imperator.”

  “Good. Leave tomorrow. I shall be making my inspection of the Titan the day after. Lord Cicero has promised that patient Orion will soon be online. I do not wish to miss seeing that. Come, my dear, help this old man to his bed. Oh, one last thing, my son—” The Imperator fixed Titus with his penetrating eyes, “—there is a very good chance you shall run into the Peacemakers in Venezuela. If you should meet Joseph Braddock there, he is not to be harmed, is that understood?”

  Titus felt his rage overtake him. Swallowing his anger, he replied simply, “Of course, my Lord.”

  “Good.”

  With that, the Imperator—along with Vorena and her two female companions—left the room, leaving behind the remains of a very uncomfortable dinner party.

  An audible ring came from the PDA device Tiberius kept on his person. Giving it a quick check, the Legate smiled. “It appears I shall be accompanying the Imperator tomorrow. Cicero requires me on the Titan for further tests on patient Orion.” Tiberius tossed a napkin on the table and reattached the cloak around his neck that he’d removed for dinner. “I’m sure you will have no problems in Venezuela. A nice country. Bit hot for me, but you’ll adjust, won’t you Titus?”