by Jim Roberts
The CIA man driving the Ford made a quick lane change which was echoed by the following SUVs behind him. They were now close to the center of the bridge.
Jade looked down at the attaché case, tucked beside her legs on the floor of the SUV.
So much death, all for this little disc.
She had just enough time to raise her eyes back toward the road when, like a bolt of lightning from God on high, a blast of concussive energy slammed into the bridge ahead of them.
The CIA driver hit the brakes, sending everyone forward hard into their seatbelts. Jade saw the bridge ahead break apart and crumble into the Potomac below. A civilian car ahead of them attempted to brake, but couldn’t stop in time. Jade could only watch as it careened into the gap to fall seventy feet to the river below.
Jade keyed her mic to contact the Cottage, “Peacemaker Home, we’re under attack, repeat, we’re—”
Her sentence was cut off by a burst of autocannon fire slamming into the SUV on its left side, exploding the windows. The CIA driver was perforated with bullets, splattering blood and tissue across the windshield. Jade ducked down helplessly as more autocannon fire struck the SUV. The two Peacemaker security troops in the backseat were instantly killed—torn to bits by their unseen attackers.
Staying in the vehicle meant certain death. Jade grasped the attaché case with one hand while pushing the passenger door open with the other. Stumbling out, she ducked low, using the SUV as cover. Her eyes glanced back at the rest of the convoy behind her. Jade saw one of the remaining SUVs take a punishing torrent of cannon fire to the gas tank, turning the entire vehicle into a massive fireball—incinerating its occupants.
A set of floodlights turned on, illuminating the bridge. Jade could see they came from an aircraft hovering above them. From the sounds of it, there were more than one.
Jade didn’t need to guess what kind of aircraft they were.
Hyperions.
As her eyes scanned the remaining convoy, Jade could see several CIA security men had been able to escape their vehicles and were now firing into the sky at their attackers. Their brave defense was met with a barrage of autocannon fire that diced apart six men in less than three seconds. Another bolt of concussive energy spat from an unseen Hyperion, demolishing the bridge behind them, effectively boxing Jade and the remaining CIA men in.
Rats in a trap…
One of the Hyperions descended onto the bridge behind her to set down on the asphalt. Jade saw a half dozen Praetorian elite troopers stream out, gun blazing. The surviving convoy guards attempted to hold them off but were violently subdued.
With the attaché briefcase in her hands, Jade knew the Praetorians would find and kill her too. No matter what, they cannot get their hands on the Code. Jade remembered Walsh’s words to her. She got to her feet, dropped her rifle and hefted the briefcase in her hands—ready to chuck it over the side of the bridge.
Before she could throw the case, something pounded into her back with enough force to send her crashing to the ground. Jade’s brain registered that she’d been shot. The Halliburton briefcase fell from her hand and skidded across the road. Her body armor prevented the bullet from entering her body but didn’t stop the wind from being knocked out of her.
She lay there for a time, head down on the pavement, her lungs having forgotten how to breathe. She heard footsteps coming up behind her—the attackers coming to end her life and that of her unborn child.
No…keep fighting! You can’t die!
Jade pulled herself across the asphalt toward where her rifle lay.
A powerful boot came down on her back, pinning Jade to the ground.
She was helpless.
A voice that sounded strained through a filter spoke from above her, “The fight is over. You’ve lost.”
From Jade’s peripheral vision, she saw a stunningly beautiful woman walk up to the briefcase. Picking it up, she removed a small electronic device and scanned the digital lock. Jade was amazed to see the case opened up a few seconds later—its supposedly unbeatable encryption bypassed by the strange device.
“Well?” came the filtered voice above her.
The blonde woman turned to her companion and smiled, “We have it!”
“Excellent!”
Jade felt the weight lift from her back. Before she could do anything, a hand grabbed her hair and yanked her to her feet. Another hand clenched around her neck, holding her helplessly in its vice-like grip.
She saw for the first time, the face of her attacker—or lack thereof. The man wore an obsidian black mask that resembled something from her darkest nightmares. She could see the man’s eyes—cold and cruel—staring back at her from the recesses of the mask.
The blonde woman had to yell over the noise of the hovering Hyperions, “My Lord, we must leave now!”
“Wait, Vorena…I know this woman!” The man looked at Jade, his eyes observing her closely, “From Sadoma City a year ago. She’s the female Rourke spoke of. Braddock’s woman.”
Jade had no idea what the man was talking about. She clutched at the hand holding her by the throat, but could not break its grip.
The woman named Vorena closed the briefcase and said, “Kill her and let’s go!”
“Do you know who I am?” the man asked Jade, heedless of Vorena’s warning.
Jade sputtered to reply, but couldn’t.
“I am Titus, Secondus of Olympus. I saw you with Joe Braddock, a year ago when he killed someone I loved dearly.”
The hands began to constrict around her throat, threatening to cut off her air supply. Jade fought feebly against him, but it was no use—he was too strong. She began to see spots as the life was slowly crushed out of her.
I’m going to die.
I can’t…not yet…
Fighting with all her might, Jade managed to force out a few precious words—words she prayed would save her life—and that of her child.
“I…I’m pregnant.”
The hands suddenly relaxed, allowing Jade to take several deep breaths. For a moment, the man named Titus seemed unsure how to react.
“And you think that will save you?” he asked, still holding her immobile.
Out of the corner of her eye, Jade could see and hear the lights and sirens of police cars, approaching the bridge. They were met with several shots from the Praetorian’s railguns, blowing them to pieces.
There was no one coming now.
Jade felt a sharp blow to the back of her head. Before the world around her darkened, she felt her body lifted up by strong hands and carried away to an unknown fate.
Joe…
* * *
TITUS DROPPED the unconsciousness woman into the passenger compartment of the stealth Hyperion. After the remaining Praetorians loaded in, Titus informed the pilot to take off. Within twenty seconds the three supersonic stealth jets were soaring into the sky and powering over the landscape of the United States.
Victorious.
The strike was a resounding success. Just as the General had said, the convoy had taken the alternate route to the Black Site. They’d marked the convoy early on—watching it split off in a pitiful attempt at diversion. Titus had all the time in the world to wait for the three SUVs to place themselves in the perfect spot along the bridge before he boxed them in with concussion bolts. He would have to thank the creepy Siren, Claudia, when he next saw her for being so exact in her extraction of details.
The Praetorians quickly secured the Peacemaker woman’s hands and feet, making her as uncomfortable as possible for the flight home. Titus leaned across the RIO seat to speak to the pilot, “Get on the horn with the Titan. Inform the Imperator his son is returning to him with a great gift.”
Titus was almost drunk with triumph. His gambit had paid off in spades. Not only did he now have the second half of the Code of War, he also had Braddock’s squeeze, perfectly wrapped. After he’d handed over the Code to his father and received his endorsement for the leadership of the PMC, his first
command would be to hunt down Braddock like the dog he was.
Titus gestured for Vorena to pass him the Zero Halliburton. Once she did, he opened it up and gazed at the prize within. He was glad for the mask on his face, as it hid the boyish expression of giddiness he felt. He reached in and gingerly pulled out the obsidian Code disc.
“A year,” he said, turning it over in his hands to admire, “A whole year of not knowing if all of our work with the Viral A.I. was for nothing. And now…we have it. Unlimited battlefield awareness at our fingertips.”
Titus felt invincible.
Replacing the Code, he passed the case back to the Siren. Vorena looked troubled.
“What’s wrong?” Titus asked.
“The fallout of this will be…intense. Can Olympus handle such an enemy as the United States?”
“What will they do? We have a weapon that can access any military network on the planet. Once the Fog has been lifted, we will practically know their thoughts before they think them. Our allies in Africa, the Middle East, and South America are sick to death of the States policing the world like an itinerant cop. Once this disc is reunited with our own and the Viral A.I. is activated, we will hold the true power in this world.”
A voice from the floor called up at the duo, “You people are insane.”
Titus glanced down at the woman on the floor, who had regained consciousness. “So…back with us, are you?”
The woman sat up as best she could in her restraints. With things having calmed down, Titus had to admit she was quite beautiful, in a rugged sort of way.
“Do you people honestly think you can get away with this? The UN will crucify your fucking company.”
Titus admired her passion. “What’s your name?”
She didn’t respond.
Titus looked at the lead Praetorian squad commander, “Alpha One, pass me her dog tags.”
The Praetorian quickly relieved the woman of her tags and gave them to Titus.
“‘Specialist Jade Masters,’” he read, “I must say, Braddock has good taste.”
“Fuck you.”
Vorena leapt up from her seat, having heard enough. She slapped Jade hard across the face.
“Shut up! This is Titus, Secondus of Olympus you speak to!”
Jade spat out a mouthful of blood. “I’m sorry, I should have said ‘fuck you too.’”
Vorena snarled, “Alpha, hit her—hard!”
Without a word, the armored trooper stood up and punched Jade across the face. She let out a yelp as blood flew from a cut on her lip.
Titus could see a look of almost sexual lust in Vorena’s face, “Alpha, punch her again!”
He did.
“Again!”
The gauntleted fist struck Jade even harder.
“That’s enough, Alpha,” Titus said before his woman could go too far. The Praetorian stopped the attack and immediately sat down as if he’d done nothing. Jade crumpled on the ground, her face swollen from the repeated attacks.
Vorena cast an enraged look at Titus. “If this woman is Braddock’s bitch, I’ll see her dead!”
“This is no time for recklessness,” Titus said, his voice cool and composed. “This woman can bring Braddock to us. Leave her alone.”
Bitterly, Vorena sat back down opposite to him. Folding her arms, she sulked in silence.
From the cockpit, the pilot called back to them, “My Lord Titus, Legate Tiberius is on the uplink. He wishes to speak to you.”
I’ll bet he does.
Removing his PDA, Titus activated the communication uplink with the Titan. Immediately, the Olympus Legate’s face filled the small screen.
“Titus! Do you have any idea what you’ve done?”
“Nice to speak to you too, Tiberius.” Titus jeered.
“Who authorized you to attack American soil?”
“I did,” he answered simply.
“Your father is furious. Attacking the carrier was one thing, this is another.”
“We attacked at night. Traffic was almost non-existent. Our role can be disavowed.”
“I’ll disavow you, you scum-sucking—”
“Spare me, Legatus,” Titus said, enjoying every minute of this, “We have something in our possession that my father has wanted for years.”
The visage of Tiberius grew dangerously quiet. “What?”
Titus opened the briefcase and held up the disc for Tiberius to see.
The Legate’s face seemed to drop ten pounds, “The Code…”
“That’s right. I’m on my way to the Titan now. I know my father will be more than glad to see his son this time. Goodbye.”
With that, he shut the PDA off.
Inside the helmet, Titus smiled.
Life was good.
Chapter 29
The Scorpion and the Assassin
Corvo Tower, Caracas, Venezuela, October 7th
THE CHAOS within the courtyard surrounding Corvo Tower was reaching manic levels. Most of the city’s police and fire department had walked off the job when the civil war began in earnest, which left the tower’s surviving Olympus forces to attempt to contain the situation. Two hours after the top four floors of the tower disappeared in a thunderous explosion that shattered windows across the surrounding neighborhood, the building was still on fire. The lower floors were immediately evacuated for safety, leaving Olympus without a base of operation within Venezuela.
As Saladin, the Sand Scorpion observed the destruction from the courtyard below, he felt a tinge of sadness at the sight of the burning tower. This ridiculous loss of life and equipment could have been avoided, if only their young leader had thought his actions through with a modicum of intelligence.
In the span of the long night, Olympus had lost its primary intelligence hub within Venezuela, along with a solid group of Centurions and technicians, and one Siren. That alone would be a catastrophic defeat, but then came the news that Damien Sledge’s drone army, not to mention Sledge himself, were also lost—all thanks to the combined efforts of the Vagabond terrorists and the Peacemakers.
Saladin was a man who rarely became angry. He came from a culture that believed showing anger was a weakness of one’s character. A man should maintain his composure at all times, even in the shadow of failure.
But he’d never known failure like this.
The security within the tower had been grossly inadequate. Having been left out of discussions on the defense of the building, Saladin had only just now learned of the dire lack of protection on the rooftop and penthouse.
Incompetence. Sheer incompetence.
The Sand Scorpion’s smartphone had been ringing for the past hour with calls from the Venezuelan President, who was out of his mind with anger at what he called ‘Olympus’s lack of ability to hold down its own fort.’ Saladin couldn’t begrudge the man on that count. The President was also furious about the battle at Puerto Cabello, saying that Olympus’s dealings with Damien Sledge violated certain terms in their contract with the Venezuelan Government forces.
Saladin had taken all this bluster in turn, accepting full responsibility for the actions of his superior, Lord Titus. It mattered little in the long run, anyway. The President had hardly any real power anymore. His army, starved and unpaid, would soon begin to defect to the VPA. It was only a matter of time. The VPA rebels would push hard against the President’s power base, forcing him to rely more and more on the security Olympus provided. For all his talk, the man needed Olympus, more than ever and Saladin was prepared to milk that need for all it was worth.
Venezuela was a gold mine for the PMC. Oil, natural gas, resources—it could supply Olympus for years; a puppet country serving the whim of the Brotherhood. The Peacemaker’s actions were merely a small setback here.
Saladin smiled.
They would beat this. Olympus would overcome, as it always did.
In his peripheral vision, he saw Falco and the Peacemaker traitor—Rourke was it?—approaching him.
Putting
on his best face, Saladin greeted them.
“My Lord Falco, nice of you to join us finally. Care to tell me where you were during this incident?”
The one-eyed veteran grimaced. “I don’t like your tone, Scorpion. I was on the lower floor, debriefing our new friend here,” he gestured to Rourke. The SEAL nodded respectfully to Saladin.
“I hope it was worth it. Because of this failure, we are to prep our Forward Operating Base in Maracaibo as our new de facto HQ.”
The news caught Falco off guard. “Why Maracaibo?”
Saladin answered, “Our gracious Venezuelan Presidente thinks that, due to recent events, Olympus’s presence within Caracas has become a target for increased hostility. Tiberius agrees with him, as do I. The war can be run just as easily from there. For now, you are to return to the Titan. The Imperator is anxious to meet our mister…Rourke here.” Saladin pointed at a large tiltrotor aircraft perched in the landing area of the courtyard, “That Felix is leaving for the Titan within the next ten minutes. You are to be on it, both of you.”
The man named Rourke asked, “Would I not be of more use here?”
Falco cut the traitor off, “For now, you are to do as I tell you. Legate Tiberius will wish to meet you. It is he who will reward your services.”
The man named Rourke looked uneasy, but nodded all the same, “All I wish is to serve the Brotherhood.”
Saladin nodded, “And you shall.” His eagle-like eyes turned to Falco, “Much will be changing for us in the next few hours, my friend. Remember what I told you back in the Tower that day—of Fers and Kings…”
Falco cut him off, “I remember fine, Lord Saladin.”
Before the Sand Scorpion could bid them goodbye, the sound of an approaching Hyperion forced his attention to the skies above Caracas. He saw the lone VTOL circle around the Tower, descending toward the makeshift landing platform beside the Bremer walls where the other parked Olympus aircraft were located.
Saladin ordered a group of Centurions to join him. There were no scheduled Hyperion landings for the next hour. Reaching the obsidian jet, he watched as the side doors split open.
