by Jim Roberts
Her heart was pounding. She felt alive. As she lifted her boot off the remains of the Praetorian, she heard a voice near the entranceway of the gym.
"You didn't have to kill him."
Agrippina whipped around, her jet black, shoulder length hair flailing about her, like the mane of an unkempt stallion. At the entryway stood Legate Tiberius, arms folded.
"How long have you been standing there?"
"Long enough. Why did you have to kill him?"
"He failed his duty."
"You mean he lost the battle."
"It means the same thing. To lose in battle is punishable by death."
"That's a rather...callous way to look at it." Tiberius walked towards the beautiful assassin, his eyes never wavering on her lithe, sensual form. Agrippina wiped the bottom of her boot on the floor, trying to remove the blood from her heel.
"It's the only way I know how."
Tiberius changed the subject, "How is the eye doing?"
Her cybernetic eye. Her real eye had been gouged out during the fall. In fact, much of her body had been burned, nearly beyond healing. Countless skin grafts, as well as some liberal bio-manipulations at a cellular level had replenished nearly all of her severely burned skin. Her face, apart from a few small scars, had reclaimed the alabaster perfection of before. The only thing that stood out now was her right eye. Designed using the same technology that gave Danny Callbeck the ability to see, she now had a prosthetic eye that was directly linked to her brain, providing her with immediate tactical analysis during combat. The eye was a stark red, contrasting mightily with her other luminous green eye.
"Fine. Needs adjusting from time to time. I'll get used to it. I just need a mission." She walked over to the small bench where a stack of towels lay. The artificial legs moved with extraordinary grace, giving the assassin back much of her lightness of step.
"What if I say you aren't ready yet?" Tiberius moved to stand behind Agrippina. Sweat streamed down her body, following the curves of her back and disappearing into her training shirt. She could feel the cold stare of the Olympus Legate. The veteran of countless campaigns cared little for such trivialities as pleasures of the flesh, she knew full well. The fire of combat and glory of victory was all Tiberius desired. Sating a man such as this required victory on the battlefield.
Agrippina's voice was hard with menace. "Then I say you haven't learned anything yet."
With lightning speed, she twirled around−her fist striking towards Tiberius in a tai-chi drop punch.
In the flash of an instant, he caught the wild blow with his hand. The strength of the punch caused a loud crack in the gym. Agrippina's eyes blazed with rage, her teeth clenched tight−trying to break through her opponent's defense. Tiberius didn't flinch as he met her wild eyes.
"Save your strength. You will have your chance."
She broke off her attack, not understanding his meaning.
"What are you talking about?"
"Just what you want...a mission."
Agrippina's eyes danced in excitement, "Where? When?"
"Come with me. We'll talk on the way." Tiberius turned and walked towards the door, his cloak streaming behind him, giving the Olympus Commander the look of a conquering king. Agrippina wrapped a towel around her shoulders and ran after him.
She didn't give a second glance to the dead body of the Praetorian.
* * *
THE ASSEMBLY hanger in the HQ was the length of a football field. Completely enclosed, it allowed for the maintenance of the Hyperion fleet; the VTOL aircraft used by Olympus as its foremost strike vehicle. The assault strike craft, powered by thermite jet fuel, was the great equalizer for the Olympus Private Army. To date, there was no other jet in the world capable of matching it for speed and firepower. Funded by one of Olympus's many dummy corporations, the jets were built in secret locations within the small countries the PMC had tight control over.
As Tiberius led Agrippina along the observatory dock, the rushing of air from the jet intake of the nearest Hyperion drowned out all sound. The test lasted for a few seconds. When finally able to hear again, Tiberius said, "The Imperator believes you're ready. It's time to prove you are again worthy of your position as Olympus High Executioner."
Agrippina smiled. Her body was buzzing with anticipation.
"I'm certain by now you have heard of what happened in Pakistan?"
Agrippina nodded. Octavia had informed her shortly after news hit the PMC radio channels. It had caused her little grief. Decimus was a hot-headed idiot. She was surprised he survived so long, with that cavalier attitude of his.
"The idiot was carrying his personal noclist with him when he died," Tiberius said, watching the work going on below with vague interest, "It is almost certainly in the hands of Jackson Walsh's special Unit."
Agrippina leaned against the guardrail, pretending to hide her excitement at this fresh opportunity.
"What was on the noclist?"
"The names of every senior scientist and technician who worked on the Code. All had been paid and released from their contracts, months before the Kazinistan debacle. It was Titus who convinced the Imperator not to eliminate them. He said there would be further use for their services in the future." Tiberius's voice was becoming increasingly strained. Agrippina knew full well the hatred the Olympus Legate held for the son of the Imperator. She allowed him to continue.
"The assassinations must be carried out as soon as possible. The targets are located throughout East and Western Europe, so you will have to move fast and light."
Tiberius reached into the pocket of his uniform and pulled out a small cell phone. Activating it, he tossed the device to the assassin.
"That contains all the details of the operation. I'm giving you two stealth Hyperions, and three squads of Praetorians," he turned to look at her, his eyes filled with mocking amusement, "Try not to kill them all before the mission is complete."
Agrippina gave the cell phone a cursory glance. Something about this whole thing was confusing her.
"What's so important about these scientists? The two halves of the Code are completed, aren't they?"
Tiberius didn't respond immediately. Agrippina sensed that whatever he was about to tell her wasn't the complete truth.
"The Code implementation in the Centurions is nearly finished and Project Prometheus is also nearing its testing phase. If we allow an outside organization to find the creators of the Code, everything we have fought for will account for nothing."
Agrippina searched Tiberius's chiselled features, looking past his cold exterior for the truth he was holding back. Tiberius turned away, looking out over the assembly hanger.
Agrippina hesitated before asking her next question.
"Who killed Decimus?"
Tiberius raised an eyebrow, as if he thought the question a foolish one.
"Who do you think could kill him and two Cerberus drones?"
Agrippina's breath caught in her throat, "Danny Callbeck."
Tiberius nodded. "I understand the anger you bear the man, but for now, you must stick to your mission. Find the names on that list and eliminate them. Are we agreed?"
Agrippina clutched the cell phone, "I swore I would kill Callbeck. Nothing will stop me when I meet him again."
Tiberius grabbed her arm suddenly, his vice-like grip clenching off the blood flow.
"Is what I ask in some way confusing to you?" Tiberius's cold-blooded eyes drove their way into Agrippina's soul. "You will follow my orders to the letter, woman. Need I remind you that I found you those years ago? Lost...devoid of purpose and use. You would have died a dog's death if not for me."
He did not need to remind her. The memories surged forth within her at the mention of her past. Agrippina had long suppressed those images of a time long lost to her. But as she writhed in the grip of this cruel warrior, she thought she could see the shadows of her past, just for a moment, in the cold eyes of Tiberius.
The Legate gripped her wri
st harder. "I could have left you there. I gave you a purpose. I brought you to the Imperator, told him I saw strength in your heart. You owe everything to my mercy. Focus on your mission, and you will once again have a place in this Brotherhood."
Her fingers were turning blue. Even with her extraordinary physical conditioning, the strength of this cold hearted warrior was too much for her.
"Do I have your understanding?" he said, his pallid eyes burrowing into her soul.
"Yes." She cried out in agony.
With that said, he released her.
"Good. The Imperator thinks you are his Carnificus Supremus, but I know your heart belongs only to me."
Without another word, he turned and marched back towards the door leading to the central HQ. Agrippina was breathing fast, shaken by the show of domination. She could try all she wanted to show she was stronger than him, but no matter what, Tiberius always maintained his control over her. Slowing her breathing, Agrippina turned to look out at the maintenance area and the multitude of dedicated troops and technicians. They were like ants to her−milling about to further Olympus's goals.
Danny Callbeck. The Imperator. Tiberius.
She would show them all. This little wasp still had her sting.
Chapter 5
Two Hunters, One Spirit
Nunavut, Northern Canada, November 19th
Joseph Braddock squinted through the scope of his Remington 30.06 high powered rifle, trying to steady the weapon as he rested it on a decaying fallen oak tree. Getting a decent bead with the gun would have been easy had it not been for the snowfall, which had crept up on them so suddenly. He had to constantly brush the heaping snow from his gun barrel as the falling white besmirched his aim, making it impossible to get a clear line of sight.
The snowfall had snuck up on them so quickly, that it had managed to dump well over twenty centimeters the night before, adding to the already hefty amount from the day before. Joe scoffed as he wiped at his gun barrel for the umpteenth time.
To his right, Danny Callbeck leaned against the log, clad head to toe in white camouflage winter cold wear. The pair of Optic Nerve Glasses were perched on his scarred face. The cold didn't seem to bother the Canadian Special Forces soldier one wit. Figures, thought Joe. For a guy born and bred in this inhospitable land of perpetual cold, why should this be anything but fun for him?
Joe snorted as he tried to focus through the rifle sight. Danny spoke up, very quietly.
"He's gonna get away. Take the shot."
Joe grit his teeth as he glared through the scope. Despite the cold, large beads of sweat were forming on his forehead. His cold-weather gear was more than decent in cutting out the minus thirty degree weather. In fact it was too good. The tension of the shot was making his heart beat faster and he was starting to perspire.
"Stay calm Joe," said Danny reassuringly, "Focus. Breathe."
"I am focusing," whispered Joe angrily, "I am breathing."
Out of the corner of his eye, he thought he could see Danny repress a faint smile. Glad you're enjoying this!
Joe returned his attention to the scope. He closed his left eye and focused. The world became inconsequential. There was only the crosshairs of the gun and his quarry on the other end. Taking a short breath, he held it.
He rested the crosshairs on his target.
With a loud crack, the rifle fired.
The male caribou bull six-hundred feet away lurched as the bullet ripped up the tundra beneath him. The beast reared and bolted at full speed towards the safety of the tree line some two-hundred yards behind him. Danny let out a short guffaw. Joe sighed as he lowered the rifle.
"You broke my concentration. I could've had him."
Danny dusted the snow off his jacket and stood up from their hunting blind. "Not my intention, Sergeant Braddock."
Joe pressed on, "Sure it was! You just wanted me to miss so you could have a chance to try out that contraption!" He gestured at the compound bow strapped to Danny's back.
Danny helped his friend to his feet, "How does your missing that bull help me at all?"
"I...don't...know." Joe was at a loss. Trying to save face with a man like Danny Callbeck always seemed to backfire on him. He lifted the rifle to flick the safety on and slung it over his back.
The last few days of this relaxing little vacation hadn't gone quite as well as Joe would have liked. He hadn't hunted since he was a child; shooting gophers on his adopted parent's cow farm in Kansas. He hadn't even had a reason to shoot an animal during his time in the military. The opportunity just never came up. Upon arriving at Andrews last Tuesday, Colonel Walsh gave every member of the Peacemakers a bond of cash for living expenses. The past six months had been so chaotic, Joe had hardly even thought about money; a luxury he had taken for granted.
Despite the death of Decimus, everything was quiet on the Olympus front. The CIA had received no new intelligence about current operations. Colonel Walsh ordered everyone to stay in contact, no matter where they went. He also stipulated that until he had further information, no contact was to be made with the Unit's families. Joe wasn't happy with that. He'd long wanted to at least speak to his adoptive parents again, living in retirement in Kansas. 'Would it really matter now?' he had thought to himself. Joe was currently unemployed, with only a tentative attachment to the CIA. The Rangers wanted nothing to do with him and now the Peacemakers were disbanded.
Trust the Colonel. He'll get the Unit up and running again.
So, two days after they had disembarked at Langley, he had found himself on a small Air Canada flight towards Winnipeg and from there, a four hour charter flight north to Arviat, a tiny hamlet of less than 2000 people nestled against Hudson's Bay.
Danny had to reapply for a hunting license, while Joe had to spend the better part of a day taking a ludicrously simple hunting test to obtain a non-resident alien licence to hunt for the next six months.
After renting snowmobiles and a tiny hunting shack about ten miles away over the tundra, they had set out on their expedition. As usual, Joe was amazed at Danny's competency in the hunt. Despite his handicap, the Inuit warrior had the nose of a blood hound, managing to pick of the tracks of a large caribou bull almost immediately.
Before they had left for Canada, Doctor Yune gave Danny a present to test: a highly advanced overdraw bow. The weapon was a new development from the good doctor's team of engineers back in Langley, who had just finished preparing the weapon for testing. Yune realized this would be a perfect opportunity to field test the new bow. Due to Canada's extremely restrictive gun registration laws, Danny was required to fill out a nightmarish amount of paperwork for the bow in order to allow it into the country, ditto for Joe, who's simple 30.06, borrowed from the Colonel, had to practically be dusted for fingerprints before the customs people allowed the gun through.
Danny gripped the Bowtech Overdraw Compound in his right hand. A quiver of half-a-dozen graphite arrows was slung on his back overtop the knapsack filled with survival equipment and supplies. Joe inwardly hoped his friend would have more luck then he himself had had these past few days. Lord knew Danny needed it.
Although his friend put up an outward show of his usual strong-will and peaceful nature, Joe could tell Danny was not his usual self. He had hoped that upon reaching Canada, his friend would snap out of this funk and return to his usual, stoic self. With all they had been through these past few months, and the hair-raising incident at Darra Adam Khel still a fresh memory, Joe knew his friend was anything but fine. Danny hadn't said more than a few dozen words the entire trip here, no matter what Joe tried.
Agrippina. That woman is all he thinks about now.
This strange fixation that Danny seemed to have on the woman who twice tried to kill them (and in Joe's case almost succeeded) was tearing the Canadian up inside. The harlequin assassin had left Joe his own scars, physically anyway; but what she had left Danny was eating him away from the inside out.
For the next few hours, they tramped
across the vacant tundra, eyes and ears out for any signs of caribou. Until today, Joe had never even seen a caribou. Also known as reindeer, they had made a strong impression on the ex-Ranger. The animals he had seen already were tall and magnificent, with heavy brown hides and white patches on their chests, along with monstrously large antlers. Danny had mentioned both males and females grew antlers, but the truly large sets belonged to the males. The caribou of the southern region of northern Canada had been declining in population for several years. Danny, as a First Nations citizen, was allowed to hunt as many animals as he wished, while Joe as a visiting alien, was only allowed two per month.
As they trudged through the ankle deep snow, Danny began to recount a fable he had learned as a boy. Joe listened earnestly, glad his friend was finally opening up somewhat. He told Joe that once many years ago, there were no caribou on the earth. One day a man, who wished for there to be an animal like the caribou, cut a hole deep in the ground, and up this hole came many, many caribou. They poured out until the earth was almost covered with them. And when the man thought there were caribou enough for mankind, he closed the hole again, like fixing a scar on the world's face. Thus the caribou came to exist on the earth.
Joe was always happy to listen to his friend's stories. His own upbringing in Kansas had consisted of chores, chores and more chores. When he wasn't working, he would read comics, watch TV, or listen to music. Fairly normal as American kids went.
He could only imagine the early life his Canadian brother had.
* * *
AT MIDDAY, Danny had managed to pick up the trail of a large bull. The animal's tracks lead straight into a small forested area, full of weak looking brambles, dead spruces and hefty pines. Joe shouldered his rifle, wanting his friend to try his luck with the bow. If they did manage to catch a bull, they would take the animal back to Arviat to be butchered at the local meat house, by one of the friendly Inuit meat workers. The Canadian knew Joe would love the taste of caribou steak. They would also donate the head and antlers to the local taxidermist, not wishing the animal to go to waste.
