by Jim Roberts
“More than anything in my life.”
The harpy smiled that playful smile she was so good at giving. “Then don’t let me stop you, Joe. It’s your rabbit hole to tumble down.”
She took her hand away. Joe looked into her eyes, trying to guess her meaning. After a moment of hesitation, he turned the knob and opened the door.
Joe stepped into a large atrium, where the Spanish missionaries would have greeted their visitors, he guessed. While the room was lit by low-power lamps, he could see tables full of candles spread throughout the interior. On each side of him were two Vagabond soldiers, standing guard. They let him and the Olympus assassin proceed through the atrium. The small meeting area opened up to a vast interior that in years past was probably used by the church’s adherents as a worship area. This room was loaded with multitudes of high-tech monitoring equipment and flat panel LED screens, all powered by the generators outside. A giant flatbed multi-touch terminal sat in the middle of the room.
Standing in front of the terminal was a man, his back turned to Joe.
He spoke, “Agrippina, welcome back.”
The voice had a strange accent Joe couldn’t place.
“It’s good to be back, Commander,” the assassin purred, bowing her head slightly.
“And this…” he said, turning around, “…would be Joseph Braddock.”
The man that looked at him was in his early sixties, maybe younger. His hair was cropped short and speckled with gray. His face was heavily lined—each wrinkle a testament of survival. He wore a perfectly maintained mustache and goatee like a medal of honor. It was hard to tell in the dim light, but his eyes were a light brown and shined with intelligence. He was dressed in a simple black long coat and underneath a fairly plain dark blue uniform.
The man seemed somehow familiar to Joe. As he walked toward Braddock, Joe noted the man seemed to hobble as if hurt in the left leg.
“Sergeant Joseph Braddock, former Army Ranger,” the man said, reciting Joe’s military history as if from memory, “Enlisted in the service in 2003 by lying about his age. Amassed more citations than any man in the 76th Ranger regiment. Awarded the Silver Star for meritorious services during the Iraq War.”
Joe was dumbfounded, “Yessir, how did—”
“I’ve been waiting for this moment a long time. I know everything about you. I know you were raised in Kansas by Tom and Liza Braddock. I know you watched your Ranger platoon be massacred by Olympus two years ago and you’ve dedicated yourself to ending them for that. I know that you are caught in an everlasting war that has raged in the shadows for over fifteen-hundred years.”
The man stopped only a few steps away from Joe; his commanding presence sending a chill down Joe’s spine.
“I know you because my name is Leo Lennox. I am the descendant of Honorius Marcellus, co-founder, and patron of the Olympia Brotherhood.”
He paused, then held out his arms and clasped Joe by the shoulders.
“And you, Joe Braddock…are my son.”
Chapter 21
Lennox
JOE BLINKED as Lennox said the words. “Son? What do you mean son? What’s he talking about?” he asked, looking at Agrippina.
“I know it is a shock, but it’s the truth, Joe,” Lennox said, lowering his hands.
Joe stepped back, his heart quickening in his chest, “Nobody knows who my father was. Is this some sort of trick?”
“It’s no trick Braddock,” Agrippina said, gesturing to Lennox with her chin, “He’s your father.”
“Come, Joe, there’s much we need to talk about.” Lennox held out a hand to lead Joe through the atrium “It’s only natural you would be confused.”
“There’s no confusion about this!” Joe said, angrily. “My father was some drunk who died in a gutter.”
Of all the things awaiting him upon meeting Leo Lennox, this was not what Joe had expected. It felt more like some cruel joke.
This can’t be real!
His mind raced to try and figure out how such a thing could be possible. His parents had told him years ago he’d been adopted from a Wichita nursery after his birth-mother had been forced to give him up—why, he’d never found out. Joe had never questioned who his real father was; it didn’t matter to him. Tom and Liza were the only parents he’d known or wanted to know—that’s just the way it was.
Agrippina spoke, her voice calm but serious, “Look at him, Braddock. Anyone can see he’s your father.”
Joe looked at Lennox’s face, really looked at him—saw past the wrinkles and scars of age. Agrippina was right—Joe saw himself, thirty years from now. The shape of the jaw, the tall brow.
But mostly it was the eyes—the cool light brown eyes that matched his hair.
Whether Joe wanted it to be true or not, this man was his father.
“How?” he stammered, “I mean, I…this is…”
“Trust me, Joe, this isn’t easy for me either.” Lennox put a hand on Joe’s arm and led him through the open command area of the mission. “We have your dear Colonel Walsh to thank for all of this.”
Agrippina followed behind them, saying, “It’s actually General Walsh now, Commander.”
“Really?” Lennox seemed surprised, “Didn’t think the old warhorse had it in him to take the plunge that far up the chain.”
Joe was still reeling from the news. A thousand questions filled his mind, but none could be formed on his lips. My father…my real father…alive. Here.
“Sit for a minute, Joe,” Lennox said, indicating toward a set of table and chairs in a room off to the side of the command area. This section of the mission was mostly bare of people, as it appeared to be Lennox’s private office.
Joe did as he was asked and sat down in one of the chairs. A collection of fruits from the surrounding jungle were collected on a plate in the center of the table. The room was plainly decorated, as befit an office of a military commander, with few comforts other than the necessities. An open window let in the racket of the jungle; the animals and insects settling in for a long night’s symphony.
Lennox collapsed with a grunt in the seat across from him. Joe could see the man was in pain. The Vagabond Commander noticed the look of concern and said, “Sorry, it’s an old complaint that’s acting up again.”
Agrippina took a papaya from the fruit basket, “You should have sent me to recon Sledge’s factory instead. I don’t know why risked yourself to do it personally.”
“Pssh,” Lennox waved the comment away, “It was a risk I needed to take. Besides, I learned what I needed to know.”
Agrippina took a bite of the fruit, chewing slowly, “About Damien Sledge?”
“Yes. I was correct—he is working with Olympus. Bipedal drones, Centurions—the man is under heavy guard.”
“Why?” Agrippina asked.
“He’s building something out there. I’ll be sending a squad soon to—” Lennox glanced at Joe and saw the look of confusion on his face. He grinned behind his mustache, “Hmm, I think business can wait for later. I promised you answers, didn’t I, Joe?”
Braddock swallowed. “Just tell me one thing—how? How can you be my father?”
Lennox tapped the table with his fingers as if he were trying to find the right place to begin.
“There’s no easy way to tell you all of this, Joe. We live in a strange time. The world knows Olympus as a Private Military Company—a group of mercenaries who stomp around the world sowing war like it was their own commodity. But there is…much more to it than that.”
Agrippina took another bite of the fruit, chewing quietly as she listened.
Lennox continued, “I was born in what is known as the Olympia Brotherhood. From a young age, I was brought up by my father, who at the time was the Olympia Imperator, or Consul, in the old speak. Olympus existed in a different form then, more like a shadow organization functioning much like a terrorist cell would today. My father—your grandfather—was at one time the head of this Brotherhood.”
> The Vagabond leader leaned back in his chair, his eyes never leaving Joe. “You more than anyone else knows the power of Olympus’s technology. I daresay you haven’t even seen a fraction of its true strength. Through the ages, by intrigues and assassinations, the Olympia Brotherhood gained secrets of technology. I was trained to be one of those entrusted with those secrets—an Elder Architectus. I aided in the creation of some of the technology you’ve seen Olympus use, I’m sure.”
“Like what?” Joe asked.
“Oh, the Hastati flight packs for instance. They utilized a design we stole from the CIA back in the 60s and simply perfected.”
Joe felt his stomach clench. The memory of his Ranger platoon being slaughtered by the airborne Olympus soldiers was still painful. Nevertheless, he kept his calm and allowed the man to speak.
“Your grandfather died in battle, making me the rightful one to take the position of Imperator. But…there was a coup, within the order. I was shunted aside by another—more experienced man who claimed the right of succession. At the time, his popularity within the Brotherhood far outweighed my own. In the interest of self-preservation, I moved aside and renounced my claim as heir to the Olympia Brotherhood.”
Joe saw Agrippina stir as she listened to the story.
“In the end, I wanted out. This was thirty-three years ago. My wife, your mother, was another Olympus Lord. She became pregnant just before all of this happened. A child in the Brotherhood invites more than its share of difficulties. The Tribunes vie constantly to one-up each other in an elaborate game of intrigues. I didn’t want my child to be a target of those sadistic games. So, I sent my wife away in the care of the only man outside of Olympus I could trust: Jackson Walsh.”
“The General…” Joe said, his mind racing to keep up with what he was hearing.
“Yes. I met him a few years before you were born, while the Brotherhood was working for the Soviets in Afghanistan. Walsh was a Special Forces prodigy then. He was helping the US government funnel weapons to the mujahideen rebels, long before it was made public that the United States had a vested interest in that war.”
A smile crossed Lennox’s face, “The old man was still a force to fear, even back then. Nearly killed me. Gave me this—” Lennox reached down and pulled up his left pant leg. Joe looked and saw it was amputated at the knee. A high-tech prosthetic remained in its place.
Lennox spoke quietly, “Walsh had been fighting Olympus for years and years by then. He’d made it his mission to kill as many of us as he could. But that day, for some reason, he spared me.”
“Why?” Joe asked.
“I don’t know. Perhaps he saw a way into my organization—into Olympia. I didn’t want to die, so I offered him anything in return. All he asked for was information on the Brotherhood’s actions. I agreed. For years thereafter I fed him intel about Olympia. I became Walsh’s number one source inside the Brotherhood. But…” His eyes seemed to darken. “Soon after, a young Tribune within the organization discovered the leak—a man named Tiberius.”
Aggy stiffened upon hearing the name.
“Tiberius…” Joe repeated.
“Yes. Currently, he is the Legatus, or Executive Commander of the PMC, one notch below the Imperator. Tiberius believed it was my wife who was the leak.” Lennox’s eyes seemed lost in memories, “At the time, we were beginning to experiment with the ideas that would eventually lead to the Code of War.”
Joe sat up, mesmerized at what he was hearing.
“Before Tiberius could act, I decided to get my wife and soon-to-be-born child out of the Brotherhood. I asked Jackson Walsh to help me. He did. After you were born, Walsh and his team made good on his promise and took you and your mother to the States. I never learned where and I didn’t want to know. It was only after that I learned your mother had been killed.”
My mother…my real mother…dead.
Lennox looked straight at Joe. “Tiberius hunted her down and killed her like she was nothing. You were only maybe a month old. Jackson Walsh protected you. He gave you up for adoption in the most out of place location possible.” Lennox allowed a slight grin to cross his worn face, “Kansas was as good a home as any for you. You would never know the life you left. You would grow up as a normal child…a foundling tied to no specific fate.”
The grin faded as Lennox continued, “However, your General Walsh had other plans. He intentionally gave you to Tom Braddock.”
“Walsh knew my fath—Tom?” Joe didn’t believe it.
Lennox nodded, “Yes. They were old war chums. They’d served together in the last days of Nam when Tom was just a kid. Walsh trusted him, knew he would raise you with values of a soldier.” Lennox shook his head, “I never wanted that life for you. But you chose differently. Growing up in the heartland of America, the son of a veteran, it was almost natural that you would follow his footsteps into war.”
Joe reflected on what he’d heard.
Could this all be true?
He remembered back to several days ago when Walsh and his father met outside the barn. Joe had dismissed it then, but there was a moment between the two men—as if they’d spoken without words.
Lennox sat up from the table and went to the small window that looked out to the jungle beyond. “Don’t blame your parents, Joe, I’m sure they loved you. But Walsh knew how important you could be some day. I think, perhaps he thought you could intercede to take Olympus from within. The Honorius bloodline is alive in you still. On my death, you would be the rightful heir of the Olympia Brotherhood, and by extension, the Olympus PMC.”
Joe placed a hand to his forehead. His mind was numb from all that he’d heard. His life had literally been turned upside down within a matter of minutes.
The heir of Olympus.
Me.
“I don’t understand,” Joe said, his voice cracking, “I’ve been a soldier for years. I could have been killed…dozens of times. Why would Walsh have risked that?”
Lennox moved back from the window, sitting back down. “To be honest, I don’t know. I learned some time ago that he’d kept an eye on you during your career. He wanted you to grow and learn on your own. Perhaps he saw in you one he could groom to take over his legacy.”
“Legacy?”
“Walsh isn’t going to be around forever. He needs someone he can trust to take over for him when he’s gone. Someone who has a stake in this fight. When you proved to be a better soldier than even he could imagine, it was the logical choice.”
Joe shook his head, “I don’t think the General sees that in me anymore. He’s got another man tapped for that job. But there was nothing making me do this. If I hadn’t run into Olympus that day in Kazinistan, all of this may not have happened.”
“That’s true,” Lennox agreed, “But as fate would have it, you did.”
Fate.
Joe was more than a little sick of that word.
“How long did you stay with Olympus before you left?” he asked his father.
“Yes, I was getting to that,” Lennox said, “I stayed with them, playing the obedient lapdog. I served Olympus for years, not knowing they’d murdered my wife—not even knowing if you’d survived. It was a year ago when Walsh finally told me she was dead…and you were alive.”
“Why did he wait so long?”
“Walsh had found out he had cancer. I think he was worried about time catching up with him. He decided to go against our deal and tell me the truth. Back then, I’d been working on perfecting the Code of War for activation.”
Agrippina took an apple from the table and began twisting the stem slowly. The woman had stayed mostly silent through the conversation, listening with great interest as the Vagabond Commander laid everything out.
Lennox said to Joe, “It was around that time when the Imperator told me the true purpose of the Code of War.”
Joe’s heart pounded. This was it. This was what he had waited so long to hear.
“I know you’ve heard of the Stream, correct?” Len
nox asked.
Joe nodded, “Sandor Delacroix, the Centurion I met in Syria, told me about it.”
“The Stream is our verbal shorthand for the Code of War. It’s a signal beamed across the world from three triangulated satellites. All those connected to the Stream via cortical implants gain tremendous combat awareness—allowing them to act faster with one another. The Stream was synthesized from elements of the second Code disc, currently held by Olympus. But that’s only one-half of the true Code of War.”
“What’s the other half?” Joe asked, hanging on every word Lennox said.
“A genius within the Brotherhood named Cicero managed to convert elements of the Code of War into an A.I. That’s what the Stream is, essentially—an A.I. capable of linking soldiers in combat with absolute battlefield awareness. But what we discovered after that gave birth to something far more insidious. The brainchild of the current Imperator, the Code of War is—in truth—a viral artificial intelligence, containing all of the practical knowledge of warfare going back to the dawn of recorded history. If it were activated, the Viral A.I. could feasibly infect every defense network on the planet. It would then act as a carrier, a parasite if you will; transferring back to Olympus every single drop of knowledge contained by every military on earth. Olympus would know what these nations thought before they could think it themselves.” Lennox’s eyes narrowed, “They will have effectively lifted the Fog of War.”
“Lifted the fog…” Joe repeated.
Agrippina took a bite of the apple, chewing it quietly.
“Correct. They will know everything. Troop movements, submarine positions, defense firewalls and more. The A.I. will sit within the networks like a spy, transmitting secrets upon secrets back to Olympus HQ. There will be nothing they won’t know once the Code has been activated.”
“Sweet Jesus.” Joe sat at the table, staring vacantly in front of him. He’d never imagined in a thousand years something like this could be possible. “Why haven’t they activated it? What are they waiting for?”
“The other Code disc, of course,” Lennox replied, “And, I also input a failsafe to prevent the activation.”
