by Jim Roberts
Lastly, the man Walsh had thought to be worthy of his trust, stepped in.
“Rourke. You goddamn traitor!” Walsh’s face was a mask of rage at the mere sight of the former SEAL.
Rourke’s eyes were guarded. “I’m sorry, General…for all of this.”
The man with the facemask interrupted, his voice muffled through some sort of syntheses device.
“Don’t be down on our man Rourke, General. He sacrificed that which he loved most. His honor has assured him a place within Olympus.” The man walked closer so Walsh could get a good look at him, “My name is Titus. Welcome to Caracas, Jackson Walsh.”
Walsh couldn’t hide the derision on his face. “Like I said to your friend here, if you’re going to torture me, let’s get to it. I’ve got places to be.”
“Funny man. No, there is someone that wishes to speak with you before we begin.” The man named Titus looked to Falco and said, “Patch him through.”
The white-haired Tribune nodded, then moved to stand by the LED monitors. Activating them, he stepped back out of the way.
A face from Walsh’s past, almost forgotten in the span of time, appeared on the screen. Leathery and pockmarked, the visage of the man who called himself the Imperator of the Olympia Brotherhood stared back at him.
“You…” Walsh said, his voice weak.
“Jackson Walsh. Finally.” The inhuman voice of the Imperator of the Olympus PMC sounded far away to the General. “Forgive my absence, as nothing would please me more than to be there to witness your end.”
“Fuck you.” Walsh spat.
The Imperator’s mouth curled into a sick smile, “It’s amazing to see a man of such will and fire be reduced to the shell I see now. A whole life laid bare of its failures and frailties.”
“I’d do it all again. A thousand times over.”
“There is little to be gained from false bravery, General. I merely wished to see with my eyes proof that you will soon be no more. Once you have given up the location of the second disc, the Code of War will be complete.”
“You know, I was hoping I’d see your face one last time,” Walsh said to the visage of Olympia’s commander.
“Oh? Why?”
“So I could tell you personally what an unholy asshole you are.”
The Imperator’s face shook with anger. When he spoke again, it was directed to the man called Titus.
“Make certain you don’t kill him before you get the location of the Code, my son. I trust I can rely on you for that much.”
Titus nodded, “Of course, father.”
The Imperator’s eyes rested on Walsh, one final time. “Goodbye, General. It was a good war while it lasted.”
The image of the old man vanished as the screens changed to the Olympus logo—the coyote head on a coat of arms.
Walsh turned to those remaining in the room. “So are you all just gonna talk me to death or what?”
Titus chuckled behind the dark mask, “I suppose we have been a bit long winded, haven’t we? We have no time for torture here. Instead, I would like to introduce you to someone.”
Titus and the blonde woman stepped aside. Walsh saw that the tiny figure was actually a young woman, not even in her mid-twenties. She was so small, he had thought she was a child. She removed the hood from her head, causing the General to wince at the sight. Her eyes were bloodshot and her skin was covered with gruesome varicose veins. Her hair was patchy and thin, adding to her wasted appearance.
Walsh noted that Titus seemed uneasy as the woman moved past him. Walsh could relate—the girl looked like a demented science experiment. What the hell were they going to do?
“General, this is Claudia.” Titus said, backing away from the girl, “She has an interesting set of skills. Don’t worry, this will only hurt…well, actually it’s going to hurt a lot.”
Rourke, who had watched everything in his trademark stoic silence, quietly said, “Goodbye, General. I…I’m sorry.”
“Traitor,” Walsh growled as he watched the man leave, followed by the one called Falco.
“I’m sorry, General,” Falco said, before excusing himself, “This really could have been avoided.”
The girl named Claudia held out a hand over Walsh’s body as she moved to stand beside him. The girl was so little, it was almost impossible to think of her harming anything. But as Walsh watched her, his heart began to beat faster.
At first, there was nothing. The girl stood quietly, concentrating on God knows what. Then he felt it—a voice, almost like an echo within the depths of his mind. It started low but soon became louder—increasing in volume until the sound drowned out everything else in his mind. He gripped the handles of the chair as the echo became unbearable.
Let go. Your secrets are now mine.
The girl was speaking, both out loud and within the depths of his mind.
“No…” Walsh muttered aloud, trying to push the intruding voice out.
You cannot resist me.
“I…I will…”
The pain increased tenfold. Walsh cried out, unable to contain his agony. He held on, forcing the voice away. The girl beside him concentrated harder, holding her hands over his body. Her eyes strained in her skull, blood vessels bursting in their whites. A trickle of blood poured from her nose.
Yet, she continued.
Open your thoughts, General. Let me see your heart.
“No!”
The pain was indescribable.
You are mine now.
The old General had given his best, but this girl—this thing was breaking him from the inside out. Whatever power she was wielding had ripped into his mind and was prodding its recesses for anything it could us. He tried to stop it—tried to concentrate and block the voice, but it was too much for him. In his weakened state and his advanced age, he just didn’t have the willpower.
Let go…let go…
He was pliable, now. He opened his mouth to speak, knowing it was fully against his will.
Where is the Code of War, General?
The voice had him. It poured into his mind, robbing him of his will.
He was hers now.
CLAUDIA COLLAPSED on the ground. Vorena rushed to her side, cradling the small Siren in her lap. Vorena tried to staunch the flow of blood pouring from the girl’s nose. Titus watched in apprehension, desperate for the answers they sought from the old man. On the table, Walsh was all but spent. With the mental link broken, the General slumped back into the chair, his breath coming in gasps.
“Well? Where is it?” Titus asked the Siren.
Vorena’s glared up at him, “Give her a minute!”
“I’ve waited long enough! Where is the Code being held?”
Vorena was about to rebuke him again, but Claudia touched her arm. Sitting up, the blood-soaked girl spoke, her voice weak, “Rosaryville, Maryland. Four miles south of Andrews Airbase.”
Titus’s heart leapt. “What are the defenses?”
“I don’t know, he wouldn’t show me.”
Vorena helped the girl to her feet, allowing Claudia to finish her report of her invasion of Walsh’s mind. “Within six hours, the CIA will move the Code disc to a secure location. The General did not know where.”
Titus clenched his fist. “He has to know! Why wouldn’t he?”
“He did not wish for the knowledge to be gained by coercion. I only saw a vague destination—somewhere across the Potomac River into Virginia.”
“Damn it!” Titus swore, angrily. There were no Olympus units within range of the Peacemaker HQ that could reach it in time. In six hours, he would miss out on the perfect chance to reclaim the Code of War.
Titus went over the variables in his mind. If what Claudia said was true, they didn’t have to attack the Peacemaker base. They could simply interdict the CIA as they passed into Virginia.
Placing the hooded cloak back over Claudia’s scarred head, Vorena said, “There’s still a chance, my Secondus.”
“How?” Titus said,
scowling behind his mask. He could see no way to move forward on this.
“We have three supersonic Hyperion stealth crafts stationed at the Caracas airport.”
Titus was confused. This was the first he was hearing this. “What? Why was I not informed?”
“They are still in the experimental stage. Saladin was planning to use them to hunt down the rebel Vagabond forces, but their pilots wanted more time for testing.” She approached Titus, her voice calm and collected. “The aircraft fly at Mach 1.1. Feasibly, they can reach our target in under three hours.”
Titus shook his head, “We’d be attacking the heart of the American military complex. It would be a suicide mission.”
“My Secondus…” Vorena said calmly, walking over to stand in front of him, “You’re standing on a precipice right now. You have never been closer to claiming what is rightly yours—your birthright.”
“Talk straight, Vorena.”
“What do you think the Imperator will say when he sees his own son, kneeling before him holding the second Code disc?”
Through the mask, Titus’s eyes flared as he began to follow what the Siren was saying. The Code was the only thing, really, that his father cared about. Sledge’s drone army was valuable, yes, but the Code—the Code was the true prize.
“No…it would be impossible.”
Vorena placed a hand against Titus’s chest. Her voice was ambrosia to him, “We are Olympus, my Lord. Nothing is impossible for us. Command your men and they will follow, as will I. The Code is your birthright. Claim it!”
Titus’s heart pounded in his chest as he listened to her honeyed words. With a woman like this behind him, Titus felt like he could do anything.
“Alright! Prep the aircraft immediately. Summon three squads of Praetorians.”
Vorena halted him, still thinking two steps ahead, “What about Damien Sledge, my Lord? If the Peacemakers attack the factory, we might lose the drone army.”
Titus thought for a moment. “Saladin and Falco shall stay here and look out for Olympus’s interests. Falco will not fail me. This is something I must do.”
Vorena lowered her smoky eyes in reverence to her commander, “Yes, my Secondus.”
The sense of power was palpable to Titus. He would lead an attack on America’s core and retrieve from the Peacemaker terrorists what was wrongfully taken from Olympus.
And then, he and Olympus would be unstoppable.
“You won’t succeed.”
Vorena and Titus turned to look at the immobile form of Jackson Walsh.
“Oh, I didn’t know you were still with us, General.” Behind the mask, Titus’s eyes were mocking.
“My team will stop you,” Walsh gurgled, “The Peacemakers will stop you. No matter what.”
Titus moved beside the old man. “I think it’s time we say goodbye, General.”
Walsh spat a mouthful of blood across Titus’s masked face. The Secondus was feeling too good to let such a gesture bother him. Wiping off the mess, Titus reached into the recesses of his long coat and produced a small combat knife.
“I grant you an end, General. One that is as inevitable as my ascension.”
With that, Titus stabbed General Walsh in his lower torso. The old man gagged at the pain but did not cry out this time. Withdrawing the blade, Titus wiped it clean before replacing it in his coat.
“Goodbye, General.”
Walsh coughed uncontrollably as the mortal wound seeped blood. Surprised that the old man had lasted as long as he did, Titus wanted the General’s last moments to be as painful as possible.
So be it for all who stand against the Olympia Brotherhood.
“Come,” he said to Vorena, leaving the padded room, “We’ve wasted enough time here.”
Vorena followed after Titus into the empty floor of the Olympus Tower. Stopping, she turned and said to Claudia, “Stay here, my sweet. Rest. I will return shortly.”
Claudia managed a weak nod. “Yes, mistress.”
Watching from the doorway, Titus rolled his eyes. He was impatient. It wasn’t every day that one’s destiny was a mere flight away. Besides, the tower was impregnable. Guarded on all floors by Centurions and bipedal drones, one would have to be insane to attempt to breach it. The thought warmed Titus as he headed to the elevator…
…and toward his destiny.
Chapter 25
The Silver Lady
Caracas Airspace, Venezuela, October 7th
THE SIGHT from up here was incredible.
The lights of Caracas stretched out below the Sea Hawk for as far as Kim Yuanza could see. Turning away from the window, she pulled on the last segment of her Whisper power-armor, clamping it in place. Flying high above the city at 15,000 feet in the Sikorsky helicopter, Orchid prepared herself for a mission that could likely spell the death of her.
In the year since joining the Peacemakers, Orchid had run the armor through a vast collection of tests. She was growing more and more confident in her ability to utilize the cutting edge technology Doctor Cairncross had perfected.
But this…this was to be the biggest test of all.
The mission had been put together on a hope and prayer. Learning what they could about Corvo Tower, located in the metropolitan region of Caracas, Brick initially wanted to wait until he could send a squad-sized strike force to infiltrate the tower. Orchid fought against the idea as infeasible, due to the many unknowns. They had no clue how fortified the building was, nor did they know if indeed General Walsh was inside. Orchid managed to convince her commander that sending a single operator to penetrate the tower from the air was the best course to take.
“Are you sure about this?” Brick had asked back on the Carrier, his voice full of reservation.
“I am,” Orchid responded as she’d looked at a satellite image of the building displayed on Headcase’s monitor. She pointed at the edge of the rooftop and said, “Get me to as high an altitude as possible and I can make a wingsuit drop.”
“That’s a pretty narrow margin of error. What if you miss?”
Orchid took a quick breath, “Then I guess I end up like a fly on a windshield.”
Brick exhaled, unsure of the plan, “It’s your call, Kim. I’ll have Packrat take you up in the Sea Hawk. Once you’re out, we’ll be calling it back immediately—the Captain wants all available helicopters to help airlift the wounded from the Harbinger and on to Puerto Rico for treatment. You’ll be on your own from then on.”
“Good,” Orchid had said. “That’s the way I like it.”
Recalling the briefing, Orchid thought she’d been a little too gung-ho. After all, there was no guarantee General Walsh was even in Corvo Tower or the country for that matter. They were shooting on empty luck right now, as there was little else to go on.
“Two minutes out, Orchid. Y’all get ready back there!” Packrat’s mild Cajun accent came through the comm unit inside the Whisper helmet. She gave the thumbs up and finalized checking her equipment. Orchid would need to pack light for the infiltration, so she’d selected two Heckler & Koch MP7A1s to act as her primary means of defense. Chambered with 4.6x30mm experimental armor piercing rounds, they would hopefully be enough to nullify the armor of any Centurions or Praetorians she met inside. She also carried an explosive compliment of thermite plasma grenades, developed especially by Cairncross’s team.
In the pouch on her back were several bricks of PETN Semtex plastic explosives. Even if the General wasn’t in the Tower, Orchid wasn’t going to leave without making some sort of impression on the Olympus scum inside.
Topping off her arsenal was the Electrolysis katana blade, held tight in a sheath on her back.
Within the passenger cabin of the Sea Hawk, Orchid stood up—clasping the safety tether on the aircraft’s roof. She keyed the gestural interface on her arm to activate the suit. It only took a few brief seconds for the start-up sequence to cycle through its list of priority checks. When the onboard CPU came online, she was fully in control of the most po
werful suit of stealth armor in the Peacemaker’s arsenal. The internal heads-up-display gave her full 360-degree visual acuity thanks to cameras positioned in strategic locations on the helmet. Making sure all systems were go, Orchid nodded to herself.
She was as ready as she’d ever be.
Her team was relying on her now. If General Walsh was alive, she was the only chance he had of finding him. She’d always looked up to the old man, respecting his strength of character and devotion to his Unit. If he was alive and in Corvo Tower, Orchid would move heaven and hell to get him out.
“Thirty seconds to jump point!” Packrat’s voice said over the intercom. “Good luck down there, silver lady!”
Orchid smiled inside the suit. Some of the Peacemakers had taken to calling her that due to the coloring of the Whisper armor. She liked it.
Sliding open the door, Orchid was greeted with a gust of wind from the pounding rotor blades of the Sea Hawk. Peering over the side, she looked out upon the city, searching for her target. Activating the suit’s internal GPS, she quickly located Corvo Tower amidst the chaotic urban sprawl. Charting a plan of descent toward it, Orchid prepped the suit’s internal patagium glide system. Designed around the concept that gave bats and gliding mammals the ability to fly, it used a powerful membranous fabric that sprang from the sides of the user. Once activated, the Whisper armor could be utilized as a wingsuit, allowing the owner to glide from great heights. The impact compensation gyros in the legs would cushion the landing, making the suit ideal for air infiltration ops, just like this one.
Orchid closed her eyes for a moment, gathering her thoughts. She had only attempted this twice during her time in Japan with the Doctor, and neither time had proven very successful. In fact, the second time, she’d ended up in a farmer’s field nearly three miles off target.
No time for second thoughts. Do or die!
