These had been the only officers on hand at the NAPD headquarters when he had noticed an inconsistency in some of the data Iaido had collected from the Major’s files. It was those discrepancies and his own insights to Major McDowell which had led them here so he answered, “We’re following a hunch.”
The officer who had asked the first question continued. “You want to explain that? The rest of the teams are off looking for bombs that are supposed to be spread out throughout the city and we are here on a snipe hunt.”
Kristopher checked the identifier; it was Ernspiker. For some reason that name rang a bell in his brain but he couldn’t recall it right off the top of his head.
“I found an anomaly in the information that Spartan shared with us that makes me think that one of the bombs isn’t on the original list and located here on the twenty-eighth floor.”
“We’re hoping to find a bomb here?” asked Spurgeon.
Kristopher nodded. “Hopefully, if my hunch is correct then we will be eliminating Major McDowell’s final component of his GOTH plan. If not, then we will be in position to assist Spartan.”
Sgt. Hamilton joined the conversation. “Roger that El-tee. Now, you three tighten up and get your minds on the mission. Muncy while we are enroute to the floor make sure you review all data concerning these bombs.”
“Roger that Sergeant,” replied Muncy. As a veteran officer of the NABS, New Atlanta Bomb Squad, he was already familiar with the general type of bombs that had been found at the other five sites but since his life, and those of his team, were on the line, he slaved his armor to follow the Sergeant and began pouring over the data the other teams had uploaded to the tac-net.
Arriving at the freight elevator, Kristopher used his police override authority to immediately call the car down to the lobby and they stepped on. Punching up the twenty-eighth floor, they felt the car begin to move. Since it was a freight elevator, it was nowhere near as fast as the main elevators but it was still faster than running up the stairs.
Kristopher smiled inwardly at the efficiency of his hastily thrown together team.
Sgt. Hamilton was accessing the schematics of the building and assigning roles and fields of fire to the rest of the team, which left him time to delve through the officer’s files and records.
Those that were assigned to SWAT-Four were the easiest since he had worked with them many times before. He knew from past jobs that Sgt. Hamilton was soft spoken and meticulous about details but refrained from micromanaging his team. Buchannan was a veteran of the team and a solid shooter. Muncy was the newest member to the team but his service record was exemplary and his bomb squad experience would especially come in handy.
The two officers from SWAT-Six were enigmas.
Even though Kristopher had known and worked with Lt. Brown over the years, he hadn’t worked many cases with his men. But then, the names of Ernspiker and Spurgeon were just too familiar. Running a quick search, he noticed that it had been SWAT-Six that had been the first team to breach the Safehouse on the night Iaido had knocked him out. That’s when he saw an odd notation in his file, T. Ernspiker – KIA.
Ernspiker. That was the name of the officer that had been killed by friendly fire during the raid. Kristopher glanced over at the man. If he had been killed in action then this must be a clone.
Quickly, he pulled up a query concerning the cloning option on all five of his escorts. Every single one of them had opted to be cloned in case of their deaths during the line of duty. Thinking back to his earlier conversation with Jay about cloning, he remembered Iaido’s comment about not knowing the difference.
Seeing his chance, he sent a secure com-link message to Officer Ernspiker.
Ernspiker answered, “Yes El-tee? What can I do for you?”
“Pardon the intrusion Officer Ernspiker but I noticed that you were involved in a recent raid at the Safehouse down near the airport.”
“Yes sir…that was me. I was on the breaching team.”
Kristopher paused. He didn’t exactly know how to phrase the question he really wanted to ask so he decided to ask a general question and see what came up.
“On that mission, your objective was to neutralize Spartan and now, I might be asking you to assist him. Is this going to be a problem?”
“Negative sir, I’ve been on the force long enough to understand how mission objectives change.” Ernspiker shifted his body slightly and pointed over his shoulder at another officer. “Now, if I can just keep Sponge Bob from shooting me this time, it will be all good.”
Even though Spurgeon wasn’t in their conversation, he must’ve realized what they were discussing because he blurted out on the team wide comlink. “It was an accident! How many times do I have ta apologize?”
Realizing that their conversation was now team wide, Kristopher switched channels. “So you know that you’re a clone?”
“Hell yes! I chose the full memory restore option just in case my death was caused by something I did. Of course, I didn’t expect to be shot in the head by a friend.”
“It was an accident!”
It was obvious that Buchannan was laughing when he added, “The whole force has been talking about it for the last few days.”
Before anyone could say anything else, Sgt. Hamilton barked. “At ease people! We have a job to do and we’re thirty seconds out. Look sharp!”
Kristopher saw that they were approaching their destination and brought his R-Gun to his shoulder and mentally prepared himself to follow his team into the unknown.
The elevator doors opened and the six police officers rushed into danger.
CHAPTER 31
Retired Staff Sgt. Scott DeJarnette was in hog-heaven. Seeing the Master Chief’s signal turn green, he began his entry.
Blowing the crater charge, he fell through to the floor below him. It was a hallway full of people. Judging from their suits, he guessed lawyers. Seeing them run away in full panic mode made him smile even more. To him, lawyers were at the very bottom of the ladder in human evolution, just barely above politicians.
Setting and blowing his next charge, DJ continued this process until he was falling through the last barricade to his designated coordinates. Having never used this breaching method before, the Marine was slower than the deadly Spec Ops warrior turned bounty hunter but still faster than the Galactic Marshals posted outside the Grand Rotunda. His HAVOC-V suit began to identify tangos and display them on his HUD. There were twenty-seven red circles, eight orange and twelve yellow in the overly large foyer he landed in. Luckily, the majority of the red tangos were clustered in one area at the far end of the hall.
Landing heavily, large cracks formed in the tile floor as the stone and metal rubble filled the foyer.
DJ engaged his external speakers and shouted, “Coalition Marines! Non-combatants hit the floor!”
Without waiting for an answer, DJ lifted his left arm in a sweeping motion which encompassed the entire room while he fired off a series of puck-like objects. Three seconds later, the flash-bangs began to go off. Not all at once but in the same order he fired them. The resulting explosions of light and sound rolled across the room knocking people down and blowing out every single window on the level.
This bought the Marine enough time to move the fifty feet to the only entrance to the auditorium.
Knowing he only had seconds until he was under assault, DJ kicked the only Marshall that was in his path. The Praetorian went flying across the room and crashed into the wall with a resounding thud. Reaching the doorway, he dropped the bag he had been carrying slung over his shoulder. Pulling out four black metal posts that were about three feet tall, each capped on both ends with a silver ball, he set them down in a semi-circle pattern; one on each side of the door and two in the middle. Powering them up, the portable shield generators filled the space in between the posts with a blue-white light which crackled with energy.
Sporadic blaster fire began bouncing off his energy barricade as the Praetorians slowl
y regained their senses.
DJ grinned and squatted down behind his barrier which protected the lower portions of his armor. Pointing his Typhoon Series 10 Gatling Gun at the offending Marshals, DJ squeezed the trigger.
* * * * *
Jay tried to wait the entire minute but failed miserably.
Even with numerous floors in between them, he heard and felt his friends’ entries. Following the plan, with the exception of the timing, the Master Chief began blowing his way through the floors until he was inside the auditorium of the Grand Rotunda. Since his entry was planned to be slightly covert, his fall was less than twenty feet as he landed on the top balcony, three floors above the battle raging below.
Moving to the edge, Jay involuntarily grimaced as the Praetorians fired their disruptors, hitting his friend. His first instinct was to help. He wanted so badly to shoot the Marshals but Iaido had been adamant; no shooting unless the General’s life was in jeopardy. He was to be overwatch and only act in defense of the President’s life.
Pulling out his Keres RG50 Sniper Rifle, Jay lay down and placed his deadly rifle on the bipod to help steady it. As he powered up the powerful railgun, he watched as his suit immediately interfaced with the enhanced optical scope mounted on the rifle. As he looked through the scope, his HUD reflected the movement and the target reticule popped up with corresponding data such as percentages of a kill shot and remaining ammo. With a flick of his eye and a simple thought, Jay engaged the inertial dampeners and doubled his mass. He knew from past use that the Keres had one hell of a kick.
Jay couldn’t help but reflect how the makers of the Keres RG50 Sniper Rifle had chosen such an appropriate name for such a deadly weapon.
Keres, the ancient Greek spirit of death, sometimes translated as violent death. Technically, Keres meant ‘choice’ as in the chooser of the slain. In Greek literature they were very similar to the Norse mythos deities known as the Valkyries, beneficial spirits who hovered over the battlefield waiting on the chance to choose who died. And here he was, posted up; ready to choose who lived and who died…just like the spirits of old.
Silently Jay watched as Iaido tossed the General to safety behind a nearby desk but took several hit from the Praetorian’s disruptors for his actions.
He reflexively scanned his HUD for any new tangos. There was nothing, except a faint echo nearby. With a flick of his eye, he shifted the ARC suit radar from passive to active. Every suit had the ability to actively scan in a fifty yard radius. Rarely did any of the SPEC OPS soldiers use this function since it would almost immediately give away their position but there was something strange about the echo and Jay thought it worth the risk.
Jay kept one eye on the ongoing battle below him and the other on the radar. Nothing unexpected came back in the first few seconds. He was about to switch back to passive scanning when proximity alarms went off in his suit and a large echo that was vaguely man-sized appeared right on top of him.
Jay’s combat instincts kicked in. He quickly rolled to his right and tried to bring his Graver Mk7 pistol to bear on the tango knowing the whole time that he would be too late.
He didn’t make it.
There was a flash of intense pain and the mental image of his left hand, still clutching his pistol, flying through the air. His ARC suit immediately sealed the wound with clotting agents and using advance biometrics technologies turned off the pain receptors in his left arm. All that took less than a second, he still had another hand and an enemy over top of him but Jay paused in his attack instead of grabbing his old reliable shotgun.
It wasn’t pain or fear or shock but wonderment at the black shadowy form hovering over him which actually caused the Master Chief to pause.
Jay’s analytical mind immediately slipped into overdrive to try and understand what he was looking at. He could tell that it was a man but his face and body seemed to be cloaked in black smoke. Jay tried to peer through the haze to get a better view of the creature overtop him.
That was right up until the shadowy figure plunged a silver sword through his armor and into his gut.
Then all he knew was pain.
CHAPTER 32
Iaido quickly scanned the entire Rotunda.
There were only the four of them in sight, the General, the Galactic Marshal, Aeneas’ clone and himself. Of course, that was ignoring the fact of the politician huddling behind the podium or two media people toward the back of the room or his friend in the overwatch position which he hoped was still a secret from the Praetorians.
Shrugging off the last of his ruined armor, Iaido readjusted the armband which contained his shield generator and calmly pulled free the ancient Blade of the Elements. Slowly he made his way around the podium until he was standing on the floor of the Grand Rotunda.
“Hello brother.”
The clone that was Aeneas rolled his shoulders and held out an empty hand to the Galactic Marshal standing beside him. Without a word, the young Praetorian placed a gladius in his hand. Aeneas bent down and pulled free another sword from the dead marshal at his feet and stepped into the opening.
“Hello Achilles.”
“I’m confused.”
Aeneas grinned. “Let me guess, Jagger Jax?”
Iaido nodded. “It’s obvious that you used a molecular realigner on your face to make your features match that of the criminal.”
Aeneas nodded. “I’ll admit; it’s more painful than I imagined. But if you figured that out, what’s your question?”
“The real Jagger Jax? What happened to him and was he really responsible for his crimes?”
“You would ask that.” Aeneas gestured to the bodies around them. “Even with all this going on, you’re thinking about how unfair it was that the Major and I framed an innocent man. Well, Jagger Jax wasn’t innocent. Granted…any of the crimes that he’s been accused of in the last year weren’t him but me. Of course, if he hadn’t already been on the Most Wanted list we would’ve picked someone else.”
“So you killed him?”
Aeneas shook his head. “Nope. He was alive the last time I saw him. But then, those working in the mines of Mercury tend to die a quick death.”
Iaido nodded. “You realize that all this is futile? The Major is dead and the FSA has teams sweeping through the city disarming the bombs.”
Aeneas hesitated for a second before asking, “You killed the Major?”
“No. He took the coward’s path out and killed himself.” Iaido saw a brief flash of anger in the eyes of his two opponents and pressed his advantage. “I guess once a coward, always a coward.”
Anger and rage washed all across the face of the young Praetorian. “Father was no coward!”
Before Iaido could goad him further, Aeneas tucked one sword under his arm and placed a calming hand on his younger cousin. “Don’t let him get to you Tiberius. He’s trying to make you angry. A true warrior doesn’t get angry. Anger leads to narrow thinking and target fixation. It will only make you easier to kill.”
Now it was Iaido’s turn to grin. “Very good. I guess you truly are Aeneas.”
“You had your doubts?”
“Yes. Judging from the ease that I’ve been able to kill the Major’s pet creations, it had crossed my mind that you were nothing more than one of his Praetorians made up to look like my brother.”
Aeneas smirked and began twirling the twin gladii in a complex pattern that Iaido recognized.
It was known as the form of Attica, an aggressive sword dance from ancient Greece that the Omega handlers had taught them many years ago. As far as he knew, there was no one outside of the original ten who knew this particular sword form. In the final move, Aeneas leapt high into the air and jabbed downward with his twin swords as he landed in a kneeling position. Both blades bit deep into the marble floor, as a testament to the cutting power of the deadly weapons and the skill of the wielder.
Aeneas looked up. “Satisfied?”
“Yes, but that doesn’t change the fact that this c
an end right here. We don’t have to come to blows.”
“We most certainly do.”
“Why? With the Major dead, you no longer have to walk this path.”
Aeneas readied his swords. “As long as the General is alive, we will not rest.”
Stupidly, the President took this moment to pop his head above the desk and asked, “But why? What have I ever done to you?”
Aeneas and Tiberius shifted their attention toward the cowering politician but it was the young Praetorian which said, “Father told us that it was you who was collaborating with the Confederates. It was you that was selling information to the separatists.”
The President actually stood up in his own defense. “Preposterous. That is a complete and utter lie.”
Iaido inwardly grinned as he watched the anger wash over the young Praetorian’s face. The General had been able to rile up the young soldier with just a few words.
Before Aeneas could calm or prevent him from doing anything foolish, Tiberius yelled, “Liar!”
As the Praetorian leapt to the attack, the President tried to dodge back under the cover of the desk but never would’ve made it in time. However, Iaido intervened.
Aeneas had been right about anger clouding the judgment during battle and it almost always caused target fixation. The situation when the attacker is so engrossed on their target that they are completely unaware of their surroundings. It happened an untold number of times in battle, causing pilots to fly into mountains or soldiers to fall off a cliff.
Tiberius had been so obsessed in his attack on the President that he didn’t see Iaido move against him. That was until the bounty hunter’s energy blade passed right through the young Praetorian’s gut, cutting him in two.
Aeneas just shook his head at the death of his young protégé. “Were we ever that impulsive?”
“No, but then we were surrounded by good, levelheaded people.”
Iaido turned his back on his brother, set his twin katanas down and grabbed the President by the collar of his fine silk suit with one hand. Lifting him to eye level, he said loudly, “Listen here General, your betters are going to have a conversation. It’s a family thing. I would appreciate it if you do not interrupt us again.”
The Last Spartan: Different Paths Page 27
