by Jim Roberts
Brick thought for a moment, then relented. Jade was right. It was too good an opportunity to pass up. “Alright, Masters. You have six hours. After that I want that disc on its way to the Langley Black Site. Until then, relay my orders and maintain high awareness.”
“Will do, sir,” Jade replied, “Are you taking command of the Unit?”
Brick hesitated. Orchid and Headcase looked at him, eagerly awaiting his response. He had hoped one day to receive command of the Peacemakers, but this…this wasn’t what he’d had in mind.
We will find the General. This is his Unit.
“You’re correct, Masters. I’ve taken command of the Peacemakers, at least until we get the General back.”
“Copy that, sir. Good luck, Lieutenant.”
Headcase ended the transmission. “What now sir?” she asked.
“Get on the line with Braddock. He needs to know what’s happening. Maybe our friend Lennox can be of some help after all.”
* * *
Vagabond HQ, Apure Province, October 7th
JOE BRADDOCK woke with a start from a fitful sleep. He’d been slouched over the table within the mission temple for hours, probably. Outside the crumbling Vagabond HQ, the sound of the jungle night was loud and rambunctious—a chorus of insects, birds and animals singing loud enough to rouse even the most tired visitors.
“Awake?”
Joe’s head snapped to the foyer entranceway. Leo Lennox stood leaning against the crumbling wall. His father hadn’t made a sound, even with the prosthetic limb.
“Sorry, must have drifted off,” Joe said, standing up.
Lennox smiled, “Understandable. You had a hard day.”
“Have you heard from the Peacemakers yet?” Joe asked.
The Vagabond commander shook his head, “No. I’ve suspended secondary operations for the time being. We’ll wait for the okay from your General Walsh. Hopefully, he’ll see that Sledge is not to be underestimated and that he’ll need our help.”
“I don’t know, the General can be stubborn in his ways.”
Lennox grinned, “It’s good to hear some things don’t change.”
A loud snore came from the adjoining room. Joe looked past Lennox and saw Krieger, leaning back in a chair, sleeping soundly—his AA-12 shotgun cradled across his lap.
Beside the Russian, Agrippina sat quietly at a small foldout table, cleaning a fresh pair of FN Five-SeveN pistols. The assassin had shed her black stealth outfit for a simple two-piece jumpsuit. Her alabaster skin reflected the candles lighting her work area. Her concentration toward her task was almost meditative.
Joe asked his father, “What time is it?”
“Zero two-thirty hours.”
Braddock sighed. He hated doing nothing.
Reading his son’s mind, Lennox said, “You need to be patient, Joe. War isn’t something to hurry toward.”
“We’re close now. Closer than I’ve ever been.”
“What do you mean?” Lennox asked.
“The Code. Danny. I feel like I’m close to ending this…this war with Olympus.”
“End?” an amused smile spread across Lennox’s face, “A small part of the war may end, but make no mistake, son, greater men than you or I have tried to do what we’re doing and failed.”
“What do you mean?”
“Joe, this war has been waged for over fifteen hundred years. Olympia has brought down dynasties with its power and reach. We may stop them for a time, perhaps even end the Stream and halt the Code of War. But while you and I still live, the echoes of the Honorius bloodline will live on, as will the Olympia Brotherhood.”
A small firefly buzzed inside the room to where Braddock stood. He held out his hand. The small insect alighted for a moment on his outstretched finger. Joe looked at it for a moment, admiring the simplicity of the tiny creature.
Lennox watched his son, his own face calm, “Peace in our time is impossible, Joe. All we can do is try to stem the tide.”
Joe watched the insect for a few seconds, feeling the warmth of its light on his face. After a minute, the bug flew up and out the nearest window. Lennox placed his hand on Joe’s shoulder, saying, “I never expected to meet you, my son. Never thought you would grow to the man you are. I want you to know that you have a place here, by my side, if you ever wish it. It’s a lonely war. I would fight it with my son at my side.”
Joe felt a tinge of emotion at Lennox’s words. In some way, he felt at home with this man—like he belonged beside him. Joe’s family in Kansas, they would always be there and he would always love them, but this man…Joe felt a kinship he had never before thought possible.
Could I leave my life behind? Join Lennox in a war against Olympus outside of the Peacemakers?
What about Jade? How would all of this sit with her?
There was much he needed to think on.
A beeping from the radio headset around his neck drew him back to reality. Across the room, Krieger awoke with a start. “No no, I hate borscht! No more—” he called out, as if still in a dream.
Shaking his head, Joe answered the call, “This is Alpha One, go ahead Harbinger, over.”
“Alpha One, this is Brick, over.”
Joe’s warning sense went off immediately. Why was Brick back on the carrier? “Go ahead, over.”
“There’s been an…attack, Alpha One. We’re in the red right now.”
Agrippina looked over as she eavesdropped in on the conversation.
Joe listened as Brick filled him in on the events of the past few hours. Fear for the lives of his teammates gripped Braddock, more so when Brick informed him that General Walsh had been the main target.
“It gets worse, Joe.” Brick went on, “Olympus had help from inside.”
Joe’s face turned a pale white. “Who?”
“I’m sorry Joe, it was Clive Rourke. Orchid saw him helping the Praetorians move Walsh from the ship. He escaped with them.”
Jesus Christ.
Joe knew something was wrong that day aboard the C-17. Rourke’s tearful speech about his expulsion from the SEALS was perhaps some veiled cry for help.
And Joe had done nothing.
He tried to restrain himself. How could he have known? Rourke kept his secrets close, did his job like a good soldier and never complained. The man was a cipher—unreadable even to those who purported to know him.
Joe shook off his inner doubts. He had to focus on the problem at hand.
“The General’s transponder signal led us to Caracas,” Brick said over the comm, “But it was disabled shortly thereafter. I need you to ask Lennox if he knows anything about a possible location they might take him.”
Joe glanced up at Lennox. The Vagabond commander shook his head, “I’m not sure. Olympus has several forward operating bases at various locations in the Libertador municipal district and surrounding areas. Any of them would be probable.”
Joe looked at Agrippina. “What about you? Any ideas?”
She shrugged, “If I had to guess, the likeliest place they would take Walsh would be Corvo Tower.” Before Joe could ask, the assassin explained, “It’s in the metropolitan core, in the banking area of Libertador parish. Olympus moved their intelligence gathering to that building a few weeks ago. It’s guarded like a fortress night and day.”
Joe spoke into the radio, “Did you get that?”
Brick’s voice came over the radio, “Got it, Joe, over. We’ll check it out.”
“What are you planning to do, Brick?”
“Not sure yet, but we have to get the General back. What he knows could threaten everything. We’re working on a plan right now to find him and bring him home.”
“Copy that.” Joe thought for a second before keying his mic. “Brick, we need to hit that drone facility. We can’t afford to wait anymore.”
“Things are pretty fucked on this end, Joe. I don’t know if I can be any help.”
“What about the new Blitzer aircraft the General was prepping on the carr
ier?”
“They’re still functional, but this place is a wreck right now. The Captain has pushed all resources to damage assessment and cleanup. I can maybe manage a helicopter, but that’s it for a while.”
Before he could respond, Joe felt Lennox’s hand on his arm.
“My men can handle this attack, Joe.”
“This is a fortified Olympus facility, sir,” Braddock replied, his voice deadly serious, “With their Hyperions, plus the drones that Sledge has guarding it, we would need a full-on airstrike to take it out—”
Lennox interrupted him, saying, “My Fenrir’s are more than capable of dealing with that place, Joe. Leave the logistics to me.”
Joe was about to object, but the look on his father’s face told him not to try. Joe keyed the mic and said, “Alright, Brick, the Vagabonds are going to hit the facility. If possible, try and send us anything you can.”
“Roger that, Braddock. No promises. I have a team already on site, marking targets. Coordinate with them for further intel. Good luck!”
“You too. Braddock out.”
The doorway to the mission opened and Curtis Walker, followed by Caedra, entered. Walker was back to wearing his dirty gray tank top, having ditched the soaking wet fatigues he’d been given hours ago.
“What’s going on?” the unkempt gunrunner asked Krieger.
“We are going on the attack, my friend.” The Russian hefted his auto shotgun onto his shoulder.
Lennox marched across the room to his tall second in command and said, “Gather the squad leaders, Caedra—we’re hitting Sledge’s drone facility.”
The powerful woman looked surprised at the order, “Sir are you sure we should—” She paused as a cool look from her commander told Caedra not to argue. Nodding, she said, “Right away, Commander.”
Lennox nodded. “Prep six Fenrir assault VTOLs and three Black Hawks. Get them ready to go within the next half hour.”
“Yes, sir.” Caedra nodded and took off to execute her orders.
Lennox looked at Curtis Walker. “You’re coming with us, Mister Walker.”
The gunrunner's eyes widened in shock, “What? Me…I—”
“I need veteran soldiers out there. If you wish to regain my trust again, you’re coming with us.”
Krieger let out a laugh, “Ha! See? Redemption, it is great thing, is it not?” He slapped Walker on the back. “You and me, like old times. Maybe we both die this time, da?”
Walker gritted his teeth, “I swear to Christ, Alexei, if I die out there, I’m gonna haunt you to the end of time!”
Looking back at Joe, Lennox said, “Are you ready for this, Braddock? Help me take Sledge down, and I swear we will find your lost friend together.”
Lennox held out his hand.
The vast was closing now, Joe realized. Olympus had thrown down the gauntlet. They’d attacked and killed his brothers, captured Walsh and were trying to move a massive army off Venezuela to their island in the Atlantic.
No more.
The war was coming to them now.
Joe Braddock would see it through.
He grasped Lennox’s hand.
The storm had finally arrived.
Chapter 24
Fire of the Mind
Corvo Tower, Caracas, October 7th
THE GHOSTS of a man’s past always hovered somewhere between dreams and reality. Right now, Jackson Walsh was right there in the middle, not quite awake, not quite asleep. He felt the echoes of the past rise up around him, as those he’d commanded during a lifetime of combat returned to greet him in this state of unconscious fantasy. The ghosts lined the path he walked, as they always had since the dawn of his fight with Olympus. A single thought swam through the haziness of his mind, telling him over and over again: death comes for us all.
Gradually, the dream world faded away and he found himself back in reality. Walsh could tell he was being dragged somewhere but had not the presence of mind to lift his head and determine his location. He was being gripped on both sides by two hulking Centurions. Ahead of him, a man in a bulky suit of body armor, with stark white hair, led the way.
Whatever the traitor Rourke had given him was finally wearing off. He was no doubt being led to his death but before he would be released from this life, it was almost certain they would interrogate and torture him. He would stay the course and play the staunch resister—not accepting defeat, even if it meant suffering from some ungodly coercion meant to break him.
He coughed violently—his chest was on fire. Spitting a mouthful of blood onto the floor, he realized he was in a building; some sort of posh office complex. He remembered being taken onto an elevator and that he was somewhere fairly high up.
Where am I?
The floor he was being pulled through was a collection of empty office cubicles, densely packed together. Here and there were computer terminals and tables with scattered papers strewn about. With his single good eye, Walsh could see large windows stretching along the periphery of the floor. He was quite high up—the brightly lit skyline beyond showed few buildings taller than this one.
I’m in Venezuela.
Judging from his memory of the overall layout of the metropolitan area of the city, he was in Caracas, no doubt about it.
With his mind working faster, now that the drug was wearing off, he began to remember the trip he’d made to get here. He’d been given a breathing apparatus before being flung over the side of the Harbinger like a ragdoll. In his condition, a lesser man would have died from being deprived of oxygen. God knows, Walsh thought he would. But he clung to life, wavering in and out of a dreamless state. He vaguely remembered being transferred to an aircraft in the middle of the water—a hovering VTOL pulling him aboard by a safety tether. After that, he’d blacked out.
And now, here I am.
Walsh’s tour of the high-tech floor ended as he was brought into a starkly lit room. There were no windows in here, just padded walls and a steel-braced chair like one would find in a dentist’s office. Several LED monitors and cameras stretched along Walsh’s right, for what purpose, he didn’t know.
“Strap him in,” the white-haired man said, “then leave us.”
Walsh felt himself be lifted by the Centurions into the uncomfortable chair. His hands, feet, and head were lashed down with painful straps as his body was immobilized. The Centurions left the room, closing the door behind them. Walsh lay on the chair, in only his blood stained trousers. Every rib on his gaunt frame could be counted; the direct result from the illness that had ravaged him over the past year. The General tried to hold in his coughing, but his lungs were burning like chimneys. He hacked several times, all the while knowing he was being observed by the quiet Olympus soldier.
When Walsh’s breathing had calmed for the moment, the man with the eye-patch spoke—his voice deadly serious.
“I remember hearing stories for decades about the legendary Jackson Walsh. It was spoken in hushed tones by my peers. They would always mark their words with the pretense that one day they hoped to meet you and end the legend.” The man moved closer until he was standing within a few feet to Walsh’s side, “I’m sure that all the while, these men prayed never to have to cross your path.”
Walsh looked away, trying to focus his mind. The man continued to talk.
“We’ve never met, but you can call me Falco. I serve the one who you will come to know as the Secondus of Olympia. For now, it looks like we have a few minutes together.”
“So go boil an egg,” Walsh replied.
“Sadly, that’s not what I had in mind. I know you’re thinking you’re tough; that even in this state you can somehow handle what we’ll do to you. I’m giving you an opportunity to bypass the pain.”
“Sorry, I don’t deal with shitheads.”
“This is no joking matter. You are an honorable man, General. You’ve done more for your country than it could ever do for you. Why fight this?” Falco slowly walked around the chair, speaking as he did. “Preser
ve the dignity you’ve fought all your life to obtain. Die with your mind and body intact. Because I promise you, when my Commander arrives, your pain will truly begin.”
Walsh’s eyes unconsciously moved down to his wrist, where the doctor had injected the transponder.
Falco noticed this. “You’re thinking your team will rescue you. Standard Olympus procedure—deactivate any tracking devices. You may remember receiving a stern voltage of electricity back on the Hyperion. Harsh, but not enough to do permanent injury, even to someone in your state. Just enough to knock out anything that may be transmitting within your body. No one is coming for you, General.”
“Well…I guess I have a long night ahead of me.”
Falco’s face stayed perfectly emotionless. The man reached forward and placed a hand on Walsh’s shoulder. “Please, General, I beg you. Tell me where the second Code disc is located. Tell me and I promise this ends with no pain at all. You’re a man of honor. From one man of honor to another, I give you my word it will be quick.”
“I’d rather bleed out like a pig than betray my men and my country. Let’s get on with this—hell ain’t getting any hotter.”
Falco shook his head. “You deserve more than what’s coming to you General. I’m sorry. I tried.”
They waited together in silence. Walsh sent his mind away from this place, recalling memories of the past to keep himself calm. Memories of his wife, dead almost twenty-five years now. He thought of his boy, Daniel, as the sweet child he was and the strong man he’d become. Olympus had stolen him, turning his body into the demented machine of war, Prometheus. The memories were cold to him now—a life of constant war had muted their colors to shades of gray. All Walsh had now was the knowledge that no matter what, his men, his Peacemakers, would continue this fight in his stead.
Suddenly, the door behind them flew open. A group of Olympus soldiers entered, taking positions around Walsh’s body. He saw a man, clad in dark blue armor, his face covered by an ominous death mask. Beside him was a woman, impossibly beautiful with long blonde hair. Behind them was another figure Walsh couldn’t see. Shorter than the others, with a gray hood covering its head, the figure ducked behind the blonde, as if scared to be seen.
