The Vagabonds (The Code of War Book 4)

by Jim Roberts

  “Alexei…Krieger—” the gunrunner began, but stopped himself.

  “What?”

  “I…that day, back in Lebanon…”

  “What about it?”

  “I swear, I tried to wait for you…I tried my damnedest. I didn’t want to leave you behind.”

  Krieger sighed, “Well…we can’t go back in time, can we?”

  “I guess not.”

  The Russian nodded, “If this is it, Walker my old friend, live good life, da?”

  Without another word, Krieger left to join Brick and Lennox, who were standing among the various Peacemaker and Vagabond aircraft. They had called over the pilots and other soldiers taking part in the operation for a quick word before the mission began in earnest.

  “Alright, everyone listen up!” Brick said in his best command voice, “You all know your part in this. Once the Titan is forced to the surface, the real fight begins. From what our friend Lennox here has told us, this ship is equipped with major offensive capabilities. Focus your attack on aerial defenses first. The ship’s armor is nearly impregnable. In order to stop the Code, we’ll need to destroy it from the inside.”

  Brick looked to Lennox to continue the brief. The Vagabond commander stepped forward and said, “The Fenrirs are designed for fast penetration of enemy defenses. While the Blitzer aircraft engage the Hyperions, the Fenrirs will descend to the ship’s exterior. Six teams made up of my Vagabonds will enter the hanger bay and place semtex charges at key areas. We’ll cripple the ship’s ballast systems and force it to sink. The resulting ocean pressure will do the rest.”

  “Krieger, your team is leading the charge,” Brick said.

  The Russian nodded, “Today is good day to die, indeed.”

  With that said, Brick wrapped things up. “Alright, time’s a wastin’. Mount up!”

  The Peacemakers and their Vagabond allies rushed to their assigned aircraft. Caedra and Gator stepped aboard what would be Lennox’s lead Fenrir.

  Krieger hung back a moment to speak with his CO. “So what happens if Orchid cannot raise the Titan in time?”

  Brick took a breath of the crisp Caribbean air, “Then Olympus wins all.”

  Lennox said to Krieger, “If Orchid does as I told her, this should go off without a hitch.” Giving each man a final nod, Lennox marched across the tarmac toward his Fenrir.

  Krieger watched him leave. “Nothing in Peacemakers goes off without hitch.” He turned to look at the acting Peacemaker CO.

  “Find Joe, Krieger. If he and Jade are alive, get them the hell out, know what I mean?”

  Krieger nodded, his face serious for a moment. “For General Walsh.”

  Brick saluted back, “Hooah.”

  Krieger turned to board his Fenrir. Before he could step aboard, a voice behind him made called out. “Wait, Krieger!” Turning around, the big Russian saw Curtis Walker running after him. The boyish gunrunner halted in front of Krieger, a determined expression on his shaggy features. “I’ll be damned if I leave you to hog all the glory.”

  Krieger smiled, “That is friend I remember.”

  Walker grinned.

  “Get on board,” Krieger said, “I saved you a seat.”

  “You knew I’d come?”

  “What can I say? I’m sentimental.”

  Walker leapt up into the open passenger area of the Fenrir. Sliding the door closed, Krieger attached his radio headset in time to hear the air-traffic Controller’s voice say, “All Fenrir and Blitzer aircraft prepare for takeoff.”

  Krieger felt the Fenrir lurch into the air. As the aircraft yawed into position, he looked out the window and saw Brick standing on the tarmac. The Peacemaker commander would remain onboard the Harbinger to coordinate the attack.

  As the wing of aircraft soared into the sky—the far quicker Blitzers matching speed with their Vagabond allies—Krieger took a breath.

  During the time he’d been with the Peacemakers, the big Russian had wanted a chance to truly take the fight to Olympus—to make them pay for their atrocities. But now, he found he was part of something bigger than himself—a war spanning centuries of time.

  It would all end today, one way or another.

  They would stop the Code and end the Stream.

  But above all, he would find Joe, Jade, and any other Peacemaker still alive on that thing.

  And he would get them the hell out of there.

  Chapter 32

  Insurrection

  The Caribbean Sea, October 7th

  PACING BACK and forth in the spacious quarters belonging to his father, Titus fumed up a storm. He’d removed his mask, as it was stifling to him. It now sat on a table against the bulkhead. Just beside the table was a magnificent marble statue of the great General Suetonius Agrippa, carved thousands of years prior by the man himself. It had been saved from ruin by forward thinking members of the Brotherhood when the General’s villa was sacked fifteen hundred years ago.

  Upon arriving back onboard the Titan, Titus had expected to be embraced by his father for the retrieval of the second Code disc. He’d pulled off an attack on American soil with pitch-perfect accuracy and no loss to civilian life. He’d even captured Joe Braddock’s woman, for whatever good that did. He half wished he’d killed her back on the Potomac, as she’d been hustled away from him the moment they arrived on the sub.

  He’d been stunned to learn that Braddock was actually onboard the Titan. Falco had told Titus the Imperator wished to speak to the Peacemaker scum first.

  It was times like this when the Secondus of Olympia truly wondered if he was cursed.

  Sitting on the bed behind him, Vorena watched as Titus wore a groove into the ground. “Relax. The Imperator’s a busy man.”

  “Too busy to greet his own fucking son?” Titus snapped, “Too busy to see the man who brought him the greatest prize in Olympus? I can’t believe this!”

  “You’re letting it get to you.”

  “Get to me?” Titus barked, “This is my birthright! I have done more than anyone else to make the Imperator’s dream a reality. And instead, I’m relegated here like some pathetic child!”

  Vorena sat up and moved to Titus’s side. Placing a hand on his arm, she said, “You are no child, my Lord. You are the rightful heir of the Olympia Brotherhood.”

  “Then why can’t my father see that?” He broke away from her touch.

  Vorena watched him for a time before saying, “I want Braddock dead just as much as you, but you must be patient. Your father will—”

  At that moment, the mechanical door to the room slid open.

  The Imperator was here.

  Titus halted his pacing, his heart beginning to pound. “Father, this is a great honor.”

  The Imperator stepped into the room, flanked by his two Praetorian bodyguards. He motioned for them to leave. His pitiless eyes came to rest on the blonde woman standing behind Titus.

  “Ah, my lovely Vorena. Forgive me for not seeing you sooner.”

  Vorena bowed in front of the old man, “My Imperator.”

  The leader of Olympus looked at his son, his leathery face darkening, “So, Titus. You wished to speak with me. Here I am.”

  Titus felt his mouth go dry. Here he stood in front of the most powerful man he’d ever known and he could hardly put a sentence together.

  “Come on boy, I don’t have all day!”

  Titus spoke with all the confidence he could muster, “Father, I…I wish to ask you for your patronage. I believe I am the person most capable of taking on your legacy and leading the Brotherhood into the future.”

  “Do you?”

  Titus nodded, licking his scarred lips, “I do.”

  “And why is that?”

  “Because, Father, I returned the second Code disc to you.”

  “And you think this small act somehow makes you worthy of the title of Imperator?”

  “Yes,” Titus said, “Yes I do.”

  “I’m sorry, my son, but I have already granted my patronag
e to another.”

  Titus blinked. “Another?”

  “Yes.”

  “Who?”

  “Tiberius, of course.”

  Titus’s mouth went dry.

  This can’t be…

  “Tiberius…why?”

  “He is the one most capable of leading Olympus when I am gone. He shall guide Olympus until my true heir is born.”

  “But…I am your son,” Titus said, his voice sounding small and pitiful.

  “You have my blood, but you are not my son. Did you honestly think I would hand Olympus to an inept failure like you?”

  “I…”

  “Shall we not forget how you fouled up the deal for the drone army? Not to mention how you allowed Leo Lennox to slip away? I have watched your failures pile ever higher these last few years. No more.”

  The world around Titus began to spin. “My only purpose in life was to serve you, Father.”

  The Imperator smiled, “And you shall. Once Joe Braddock has activated the Code, I’ll kill him. I’ll hunt down Lennox and kill him too.” The Imperator leaned on his cane as he turned away from Titus to admire the statue of Suetonius, standing tall and regal against the bulkhead. “The seed of Honorius’s pathetic bloodline will be wiped from history. Once done, Tiberius will shepherd Olympus until the new heir comes of age.”

  Titus didn’t understand, “New heir?”

  “Yes…the progeny of my own loins, born from my son—” The Imperator turned to look at Vorena, “—and my daughter.”

  “Daughter?” Titus looked at the blonde Siren, standing apart from him. Vorena averted his gaze.

  “My beautiful Vorena,” the Imperator said, gazing at the woman with true adoration. “Loyal beyond all measure. She followed her role in this like a perfect daughter of Olympia.”

  A sick, dizzy feeling struck Titus as he listened. He wanted to speak but couldn’t.

  The Imperator went on, “She is the daughter of a woman I took after your mother died.”

  “My…sister…” Titus managed to babble, “w…why?”

  “I ordered her to get close to you—mate with you. With her, you will found a new, pure bloodline that will rule over the Olympia Brotherhood into the future—untouched by weakness.”

  “You’re crazy.” A cold rage had seeped into Titus’s voice.

  His father’s eyes narrowed, “I assure you, my son, this is as it should be. You will learn your place, even if I have to prostitute you to my own daughter to do it.”

  Titus glanced to Vorena. The woman’s face was an emotionless mask.

  “You…you knew about this?”

  “I did my duty, as I have since I was born,” Vorena replied, brusquely, “I am loyal to Olympus first and foremost.”

  The sickness began to swirl in his core, churning into a boil of rage-filled hate. “I only ever wanted to please you, Father…to make you proud.”

  “You are a failure, Titus,” the Imperator said, half turning to leave the room, “and you always will be. You are to return to Ascension. I have no further use for you.”

  The boiling rage writhed like some great and evil beast within Titus’s innards. The world turned red and in an instant of pure madness, he acted.

  Bolting forward, Titus grabbed the Imperator by the throat. The old man’s cane fell from his hand as he was held tight in the steely grip of his son.

  Vorena’s voice was calling to him, screaming his name, but he couldn’t hear; his sole focus was on the face of this withered old madman.

  “I would have burned nations on top of nations for you, Father!” Titus gritted his teeth as he held the Imperator immobile with his brute strength, “I only wanted you to see me for who I was!”

  His hands moved to clasp the old man by the side of his head.

  “Can you see me now, Father?” Titus said, increasing the pressure of his grip, “Can you see now the man your son has become?”

  The Imperator let out a high pitched scream, blocked by the sound proof doors. Titus heard Vorena calling to him—pleading.

  But it didn’t matter.

  He was outside himself now. He felt his thumbs move toward the eyes of his Father.

  “Can you see now, Old Man?”

  The Imperator screamed as Titus plunged his thumbs into his eyes. Blood spurted across Titus’s face as he gripped the head of his father and crushed it in his hands. Brain and bone burst forth in an explosive orgy of red carnage.

  No more than a lifeless husk, the body slipped from Titus’s hands to fall in a heap on the ground.

  The world slowly returned to normal. Titus stared at his hands—completely covered in viscera. The body of his father lay at his feet, pouring blood across the floor.

  My father is dead.

  The Imperator is dead.

  The realization shocked Titus back to life. The man who had led Olympus for over fifty years was dead by his own son’s hand.

  “What did I just do?” Titus asked out loud. He looked at Vorena. Her eyes were wide with shock, but he could tell she was thinking things through—making sense of the senseless.

  Emotion gripped Titus as the enormity of what he’d just done dawned on him. What now? Olympus was on the edge of proving its dominance on the world stage and now their leader—their Imperator—was dead by his hands.

  Vorena’s voice spoke out to him, cutting through the terror, “Titus…Titus, listen to me.”

  “I killed my Father,” Titus said, his voice shaking. “I killed the Imperator!”

  “Titus, we need to act now!”

  “I…I…”

  “You know what will happen. Tiberius will have you put to death for this!”

  “Ww…what should I do?”

  “Call Falco. Tell him to bring twelve of his most trusted men. But first, clean yourself up.”

  Titus didn’t argue. Her voice was the only thing keeping him sane just then. He decided to do exactly as Vorena asked.

  IT TOOK two minutes for Falco to arrive in the room, followed by a squad of Centurions. By then, Titus had cleaned himself up as best as he could in the adjoining washroom.

  Falco’s eyes went wide at the sight. He hunched over the dead body of the Imperator.

  “My Lord…” the one-eyed Tribune said mournfully. He glanced at Titus, then to Vorena before asking, “What happened in here?”

  Before Titus could respond, Vorena answered, “It was Tiberius! The Imperator proclaimed Titus the true Secondus of Olympus and Tiberius went mad with rage. He did this before we could stop him.”

  Falco looked at the crushed head of the Imperator, a dubious look on his face. “Tiberius did this? I don’t understand—”

  “It’s as she said, Falco,” Titus interjected, “The man became a monster—he crushed my father’s head as you see now.”

  Falco looked at the body, then back to Titus, “But…why didn’t you try to stop him?”

  “Do you question your Imperator, Tribune Falco?” Vorena said in her most commanding voice.

  The old Tribune seemed unsure what to do.

  “Can we rely on you, Falco?” Titus asked. Everything rested on getting Falco to go along with this.

  There was a moment where it looked like the one-eyed Tribune wasn’t going to accept the explanation. Titus admitted to himself it looked pretty bad.

  But this was Falco…the man who raised him since he was a young child.

  His old nursemaid.

  Falco took a long breath of air before saying, “Of course my lord, I am at your service, as always.”

  Titus nodded, “Good. Then find Tiberius and arrest him.”

  “Arrest Tiberius?”

  “He murdered my father! Find him now!”

  * * *

  LEGATE TIBERIUS, flanked by a retinue of Praetorians, marched through the hall toward the Stream Core. Even with his trademark frosty composure, he was in very good spirits.

  Secondus, he thought. Such a wonderful ring to the word.

  With the impend
ing announcement of his succession as Imperator of Olympus close at hand, the Legate’s mind was on the future. He would force Braddock to bypass the Viral A.I. failsafe. Once done, he would take his leave and think up a suitable execution for Agrippina.

  It was turning out to be a lovely day.

  The sound of heavy footfalls ahead pulled his focus away from the PDA he’d been studying. From the far end of the corridor came a large squad of Centurions, led by Tribune Falco. Heavily armed, they approached Tiberius, blocking the hallway.

  “What the hell is the meaning of this?” Tiberius’s voice boomed in the narrow space.

  “You are under arrest, my lord Tiberius,” Falco said as he gestured for the Centurions to detain the Olympus Legate.

  Tiberius’s face twisted into a mask of anger, “Are you insane, Falco? Who ordered this?”

  “Imperator Titus, my lord.”

  “Titus? That fucking child? You will do no such thing. Where is the Imperator?”

  “Where you left him, Tiberius. Dead, on the floor of his room.”

  The Legate blinked, unsure if he heard Falco right, “I don’t believe it! I saw him only a few moments ago. I have been declared the new Secondus!”

  Falco pointed at Tiberius and said, “Take him. If he resists, kill him.”

  For a moment it looked like blood would be spilled. The Praetorians—loyal to Tiberius—squared off with the Centurions.

  Tiberius held up a hand, knowing he’d been outmaneuvered, “No. There is no need for violence here. But rest assured, Falco, this will not go unanswered.”

  * * *

  THE PDA at Titus’s side vibrated. He and Vorena were both waiting in his quarters, a deck below the Imperator’s room. Answering the personal communicator, Titus heard Falco’s voice on the other end.

  “My lord, Tiberius is in custody.”

  “Excellent, Falco,” Titus replied, “Take him to the brig for now. I’ll deal with him later.” Shutting down the PDA, he glanced across at Vorena. “What now?” he asked, “Do we kill him?”