by Jim Roberts
The Peacemakers
Book Two of the Code of War
By Jim Roberts
Smashwords Edition
Copyright 2014 Jim Roberts
Cover Designed by David Roya
Smashwords Edition, License Notes
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Adagio for Strings by Samuel Barber, 1936
Acknowledgements
As always, thanks to David Morrell for his advice. A special thanks to Ava Armstrong for her invaluable input. And thanks Mom, for everything.
This book is dedicated to Warren Ellis and Larry Hama.
The Peacemakers take on the cruel private military known as Olympus. The battle for the Code of War has only just begun...
Ex-Army Ranger Joe Braddock and his unit of Peacemakers take on the mysterious PMC known to the world as Olympus. The cruel Military will stop at nothing to bring down Braddock's team of elite military operators, while at the same time trying to recover the enigmatic Code of War: a disc containing immense power that somehow holds the key to Olympus's ascension...
Praise for Olympus Rises
Olympus reveals itself to the world. Joe Braddock and Danny Callbeck steal one half of the Code of War. All epics must have a beginning...
"PULLS NO PUNCHES . . . exciting for fans of militaristic action!" − Adam Knight, author of Overdrive: Cowboy Ending
"SMART, EFFECTIVELY WRITTEN . . . it's (like) G.I. Joe mixed with Die Hard" − HeroicFantasyWriters.com
"FAST PACED SPECULATIVE FICTION . . . a worthy addition to any book lovers’ collection!" −John Reinhard Dizon, author of The Kingdom
"THIS IS WHAT G.I. JOE MOVIES SHOULD HAVE BEEN LIKE!" − M. Joseph Murphy, author of Council of Peacocks
"NEVER A DULL MOMENT . . . there are moments when the story is frightening in its realism!" − Ava Armstrong, author of A Sense of Duty
"Never in the field of human conflict was so much owed by so many to so few"
-Winston Churchill
Table of Contents
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Epilogue
About the Author
Prologue
Undisclosed Olympus Location, March 17th, 2014
"Stop prancing about and hit me, boy!"
Tribune Titus, heir to the Brotherhood of Olympia, lunged towards his Krav Maga instructor, a wiry, but very athletic man named Aurelius. With the ease of a practiced master in the martial form, Aurelius blocked Titus's solid, but ill-timed lunge, twisted his arm back and used the young man's forward momentum to hurl him onto his back. Titus landed hard, letting out a loud grunt. His instructor lunged down, thrusting a powerful fist down towards Titus's outstretched neck−stopping a hair's breath away from crushing the young heir's windpipe.
"Not bad, but still dead." Aurelius helped his pupil up. Titus yanked his hand away, revolted at his own moment of weakness. Both men were dressed in dark knits used for close quarters battle, colored in the traditional Olympus obsidian black. The training space they occupied in the Olympus HQ was spartan at best; only containing a padded floor and a few racks of practice weapons. The walls were a polished obsidian paneling, with steel ridging, in keeping with the rest of the HQ interior.
The training had been going on for the past four hours. A relentless perfectionist, Aurelius was the best hand-to-hand instructor in the entire Private Military of Olympus. As one of the world's deadliest practitioners of the Israeli martial art of Krav Maga, Aurelius had trained men and women all over the world in organizations as diverse as Mossad, Shin Bet, and even America's own Delta Force. The violent, bone-crushing martial form emphasized preemptive counter attacks, brutal targeting of vulnerable points on the body, and speedy neutralization of an enemy. Only just in his late forties, Aurelius was highly sought after and was now currently employed as the primary teacher of the Imperator's own son.
The young heir, having spent the past ten years of his life training, knew he was better than this fool. At only twenty-seven, Titus was at his absolute prime. Standing nearly six-feet, his face was devastatingly handsome and admirably defined; like a slightly smashed Greek statue. His nose was long and hawk-like, adding to his chiselled looks. On his naked right forearm was a black colored tattoo, consisting of a coyote head silhouette amidst a chevron coat of arms.
The symbol of the Olympia Brotherhood.
Titus was breathing heavily. These training sessions were starting to become tiresome to the ambitious heir. It was time to start moving forward.
Titus picked himself up and returned to a fighting stance.
He thinks he has me...
The Olympus heir narrowed his pale blue eyes as he searched for the weakness in his instructor's defense. Aurelius made his play, lunging forward−arms outstretched to grab his pupil.
Titus saw his opponent's flaw, clear as day. With stunning ease, the heir caught the lunge perfectly. Aurelius's smile turned to a look of shock as his own arm was twisted across his chest into a brutal headlock. Titus held the man, completely immobile. All he needed to do was pull a little harder and he would break his instructor's windpipe.
You think you understand me?
Titus smiled as he held the man's life in his hands.
I am Olympus. I am the son of the Imperator himself. And I will not be defeated by a fool like you.
His powerful, conditioned physique held the martial arts expert completely stationary; Aurelius being unable to find a weakness in the hold. Titus could feel his enemy starting to lose consciousness, his strength ebbing away.
Olympus needs no weaklings like you...
He was about to snap the man's neck when a voice at the entrance to the sparring room stayed his hand.
"Titus! The Legate has ordered you to join him. Olympus is in a crisis right now!" The voice belonged to Titus's bodyguard and aide-de-camp, Falco.
The elation of victory ebbed from Titus. He yanked the instructor's arm hard, dislocating the shoulder. Aurelius cried out in pain, falling to the floor in agony. Titus moved to the bench and grabbed a towel. As he made his way over to join Falco at the door, he stopped and turned back to the man writhing on the ground.
"Olympus does not allow failure. Count yourself lucky, Aurelius. As it is, you are out of a job."
Titus joined Falco as they stepped into the narrow hall of the HQ. Every bit as sparse as the rest of the home base of the world's largest and most secretive Private Military, it was a twisting labyr
inth of corridors−dimly lit by narrow fluorescent lights on the floor and ceiling.
Titus wiped his face and arms with the towel. "What's happened?"
"I don't know all the details, my Lord. Apparently it has something to do with the Kazinistan operation."
Kazinistan. The Code. Titus had only been marginally attached to that operation, but had believed it well taken care of in the capable hands of Commander Dante.
Titus's bodyguard picked up the pace. "We should hurry, my lord. The Legate hates to be kept waiting."
Falco. My glorified wet nurse. One of Olympus's longest serving soldiers, Falco was once a decorated, powerful PMC merc. Now, he was long past his prime. His dark hair was heavily streaked with grey. An eye patch sat forlorn over his left eye, lost on some forgotten battlefield in North Africa years ago. He wore a suit of night black battle armor. He carried, at all times, a Japanese Katana blade, sheathed on his back.
Over the hill perhaps, but still deadly.
"Do I have time to change?" Titus asked.
"Tiberius was most insistent you join him as soon as possible, my lord."
"Mmm." Titus muttered, caring little what the Olympus Legate thought. Tiberius may be the second in command behind the Imperator, but that didn't mean Titus had to respect him. "No...I will change first. Tiberius can wait for me."
He could feel Falco sigh as they walked, but the Olympus veteran said nothing.
Like a good dog.
TWENTY MINUTES later, Titus arrived outside the Olympus HQ Operation and Logistics Room. He was now dressed in a long, dark-brown trench coat that covered the traditional obsidian black uniform of an Olympus Tribune. Pulled over his medium-length brown hair was the red beret of the Olympus Private Military. Two fully armed Olympus Centurions stood guard outside the room, clad head to toe in the dark crimson Reactive Armor worn by all Olympus shock troops. The Centurions saluted the heir of the Olympia Brotherhood. Titus saluted back, touching his left breast with his right hand.
The door slid open.
The Ops room was dark and crowded. Numerous technical personnel were hunched over holographic monitors and interface systems, correlating data and intelligence between the dozens of Olympus operations around the globe. Mission handlers moved frantically between monitor stations, providing intel to war operations everywhere from Angola, Africa to Venezuela, South America. Against the far wall was a massive view screen which included one of the world's largest and most advanced multi-touch gestural interface screens. The screen could project an image of nearly anything within reason, and the holographic interface allowed a handler in front of the screen to manipulate the image, just by using his hands alone.
Wave of the future.
As Titus walked through the Ops room, his eyes fixated on the man inside he had grown to loathe over the past few years he had been serving in the PMC.
Legate Tiberius.
Although he was not afraid of the man, Titus had to admit that being in his presence was anything but easy.
The man radiated cold authority. He was tall, in his late fifties and always well groomed. His receding dark hair was always neatly trimmed. As all Commanders in the Olympus PMC did, he wore a fine obsidian black cloak, covering his suit of rynohyde body armor underneath. The Commander wore his armor all the time. Titus had learned that the Legate was fond of quoting Sun Tzu, the legendary Chinese tactician. There was a rule Titus knew the Legate chose to take to heart:
When at peace, prepare for war.
Tiberius turned away from the massive holographic projection of, what appeared to be, a satellite relay image of a burning fortress. His eyes came to rest on the young heir before him.
If there was one thing you remembered about the Second in Command of the Olympus PMC, it was his eyes.
Tiberius's eyes were steel grey, paler than wolf fur. Cold and cruel, they were the first thing anyone noticed about the Legate, and for his enemies, often the last. Titus swallowed as he looked the Legate straight in those eyes; eyes that had seen more death and destruction than Titus could even imagine.
"You are late, Tribune."
"Apologies, Legate. I was detained."
Tiberius looked back at the blown up image. "Do you know what we are looking at here?"
Titus took an educated guess. "Kazinistan, sir?"
The Olympus Legate nodded. "Yes. To be specific, Fortress Liberatio. It was destroyed six hours ago."
Titus's brow furrowed. Who would dare...
Tiberius spoke without looking at the young man. "I hope I'm not incorrect in assuming you heard about the destruction of fortress Bellum less than a week ago."
"Of course, Legate."
"Well, this terrorist attack against Fortress Liberatio has lead to the death of the President of Kazinistan himself. Olympus has been ousted from the country completely."
Rage boiled up in Titus's throat.
"My lord, what about...the Code?"
Tiberius continued to stare blankly at the screen. "Safe, but still incomplete. Agrippina managed to save it."
Agrippina. Leave it to that psychotic bitch to be the hero of the day.
Tiberius made a movement with his hands. The image of the fortress moved away to a series of headshots of people Titus did not recognize.
"Agrippina was badly wounded. The Imperator was with her a few hours ago."
Father...
The thought that his own father would take the time to see that insane woman over him, enraged Titus to the core.
"We have reason to believe Colonel Walsh was the man behind the destruction of Fort Liberatio." Tiberius spoke with a muted anger behind his voice. "He was seen by our contacts at Bagram Airfield, speaking to these men..."
The Legate keyed in another command and one by one, the headshots filled the screen. The first was a Caucasian man, with strong, handsome features and a mop of sandy brown hair; the next was of a Native man, whose face had been badly burned; and the last was of a very large, diversely ethnic man, most likely of Arabic ancestry. A mane of dark black hair gave the man a feral, brutish appearance.
Tiberius introduced the men to Titus, speaking as if reading off a rap sheet, "The man on the left is Joseph Braddock; Staff Sergeant of the Platoon of Army Rangers wiped out on the border of Kazinistan."
"What do we know about him?" Titus asked, folding his arms as he scrutinized the faces.
"There isn't much to know. Our background check showed a decorated history in the Rangers; two Purple Hearts, Silver Star. This was to be his last tour in Afghanistan. By all accounts, he is said to be an absolutely exemplar soldier; reckless and naive, but duty bound and devoted to his men."
"Mmm...and the Native?" Titus asked, greatly interested in what he was seeing.
"Corporal Danny Callbeck, Canadian Special Forces member of Joint Task Force 2. On loan to the Rangers as an observer. Inuit ancestry on his father's side. Blinded during the border attack. Agrippina told us it was he that nearly killed her." Tiberius paused before giving the bad news, "She says he is in procession of the Stealth Suit designed by Doctor Yune."
"Yune...that traitor..." Titus said, chewing the bottom of his lip.
Tiberius went on, "The technology in the suit allows him to see. We have reason to believe he is the one who stole the Tactical Code."
"A resourceful man this...Callbeck. And the last?"
"This man, there is little information. Goes by the name Krieger, though little to nothing else is known personally about him. Of Arab-Russian ethnicity. Extremely skillful with weapons and hand to hand combat. Agrippina said he was the one that killed Commander Dante."
"How did he manage to kill Dante?" Titus asked, perplexed that anyone could bring down Olympus's key field commander.
"By a grenade. In the mouth." Tiberius seemed amused by his own answer.
Titus shook his head.
Not a way for a devoted soldier of Olympus to go.
Titus watched the Legate for a moment. Tiberius had paused his commenta
ry to scrutinize the images of the three men.
Titus wondered what went on in the Olympus leader's cold, calculating mind.
After a length, Tiberius spoke. "A curious trio, is it not?"
"Yes sir." Titus answered a bit too quickly. "Sir...how does all of this affect Project Prometheus? Without both halves of the Code should we not delay−"
The Legate turned suddenly, his cold eyes burrowing into Titus's soul. "Nothing has changed. Integration of the Code into the Centurions will be halted for the time being, but Project Prometheus will proceed as expected. The Imperator has already grown impatient. We shall continue looking for a suitable location for testing. Even if the Tactical Code is not found, we shall proceed, is that understood?"
"Yes, my Commander." Titus stood to attention. The young tribune knew that the Legate took failures to heart, and those that failed in his presence seldom had the chance to fail again. It was best not to press the issue.
Tiberius regarded the young man with an angry glare in his eye. "I want you to continue to search for a suitable location for the test. I shall make the report to the Imperator. Hopefully we can mitigate the damage these terrorists did." Tiberius turned back to the screen interface, waving Titus away with a casual wave, "Dismissed, Tribune."
And that was it. All Titus merited as the future heir to the largest private military in the world, was a 'dismissed.'"
Titus saluted, then turned and walked out of the operations room, pausing as the sliding mechanical doors opened into the corridor beyond.
WAITING FOR him in the corridor beyond the Ops room was Falco, his ever present watchdog.
"I take it the news was not good, my lord?"
Titus ignored the comment. "I'm going to see Agrippina. Where is she?"
