by Jim Roberts
The tarmac at Makhado airbase was extremely busy, and for good reason. UN forces had taken over a large portion of the base, flying in personnel and supplies for the past several weeks. Just thirty miles to the north, Zimbala stretched along the South African border. There, thousands of refugees streamed across looking for sanctuary from the war against David Musabe and his pet military, Olympus. A few miles from the border, the UN had set up several small MASH encampments to deal with the massive exodus from the country.
Joe's boots gratefully hit the tarmac and he walked out into the sunlight, putting a hand over his eyes to get a better view of the air base. A multitude of aircraft were parked throughout the airport as far as Joe could see. Two C-130 Hercules airplanes with UN markings were parked a few hundred meters away. Joe could see the maintenance crews unloading large supply crates marked with red crosses−supplies for the refugees, most likely.
Further down, on the runway opposite to the tarmac Joe was standing on, two Saab JAS 39 Gripen multirole aircraft were preparing to takeoff. A fairly small, rather accident prone airplane utilizing a delta wing design, it was the central aircraft in the South African fighter jet force. The South African military was running maneuvers along the border; keeping an eye on the emboldened country of Zimbala beyond.
It was a lot of show for nothing, Joe thought. Olympus had no interest in countries it didn't contract with. They would heed the limits of their current deal and go no further.
Joe checked his rifle quickly. It felt great to be buttoned up once again. A week away from the fray did little for his composure. Hunting was fine and all, but his place was here. On the battlefield.
Just another regular Joe.
He had chosen an old companion as his chief rifle; the M4A1 carbine. Joe had it equipped with an under mounted M-203A2 Grenade launcher and Elcan Spector laser dot sight. At his side was a Beretta 9mm handgun, and slung against his rucksack, a Mossberg 590A1 Tactical shotgun. Joe liked keeping a six-shot pump action nearby in case of close shaves or doors that needed a serious boot to open. He also sported several grenades on his belt, extra ammo and supplies, including food. The Colonel warned everyone not to eat anything while in the country. Sage advice, thought Joe. Everything from malaria to dysentery existed in the slums of Africa. His arm still smarted from the inoculation he'd been given before leaving the States−a prerequisite before visiting Africa.
All in all, he felt ready for anything.
The Peacemakers had been given another chance, and he was going to do everything to make sure things went right this time.
It took a good half hour for the Black Hawk to finish its rollout and prep. Isabella fussed around the aircraft, making sure the stealth modifications didn't interfere with the smooth operation of her helo. Joe, as always, was happy to trust himself to the young Marine pilot. Isabella was the best and there was no one else he'd rather have flying them into a shit-storm than her. As the hour dawned, and the prep crew finished their work, Walsh summoned the two mission operators over for a quick last minute pow-wow. Rourke and Joe had already gone over the intricacies of the mission before on their OpTabs, making sure they left little to nothing for chance.
Walsh just wanted the last word.
"Okay boys, first phase of the op is easy. The rebs in the Hatfield district have cordoned off an area for the Black Hawk to land. Brick's last transmission yesterday said he'd made contact with Miss Anders safely. Once you're set down, extract Anders, Brick and Krieger. Bring em back, we debrief the young lady, then the four of you are back in at night for the second phase."
Joe and Rourke both nodded. The Navy SEAL sniper was equipped much the same as Joe. He wore a desert camo Kevlar vest, with a set of dark brown fatigues. He had chosen a Barrett Model 82 .50 caliber anti-material rifle as his primary weapon. Capable of punching a hole the size of a golf ball in a car door, the weapon would also be affective if they came across any Olympus drones during their time in the city. In the holster on the SEAL's thigh was a SOCOM Mark 23 handgun. Firing the massive .45 ACP round, the gun was the weapon of choice for Naval Special Forces.
Lastly, strapped to his back, Rourke carried an XM-25 Counter Defilade air bust grenade launcher. The weapon was an experimental design that had meant to usher in a new support weapon capable of rooting out enemy positions from cover. Able to launch a 25 x 40mm explosive round up to six-hundred meters, the weapon could have been a boon to on-foot forces in Afghanistan. However, due to the weapon's expense and relative inefficiency, the Army mothballed it, but not before many units had already made it to preliminary production. Doctor Yune had ordered several for the Unit, as a side armament for dealing with Drones and other heavy weapon systems. It added fifteen pounds to Rourke's loadout, but it would aid immeasurably in a pitched battle against covered enemies.
During the flight, Joe had spoken with Walsh about the assassination. Walsh had told Joe that the rebels had a plan in mind to force the President to leave his barricaded home of the capitol building. With a proper diversion, a trained sniper would be able to take the President down. The URAF forces had already prepped such a diversion, but wanted the Colonel to send someone more experienced than the well-meaning amateurs of the rebel Zimbalan faction. Hence, that was where Rourke came in. The soldier had the best marksman scores throughout his time with the SEALs and would be the perfect choice for capping the dictator.
"Second phase puts you boys right back in at 22:00 hours. Your LZ will be the center of the city, in the gutted Downtown district. A group of rebels will RV with you and give you further details on the location of the assassination. Any questions?"
"What's the escape and evasion plan, sir?" Rourke asked, resting his free hand on the top of his anti-material rifle.
"Once Musabe is dead, Olympus is immediately in violation of its contract and will be legally unable to make any retaliatory move. The ANDU forces will almost certainly panic and begin to route without Musabe's leadership. Cordova will pilot the Black Hawk at the LZ marked on your OpTab and bring you home."
Rourke nodded, satisfied with the answer.
"Anything else?" Walsh asked.
Both men shook their heads.
"Ok, mount up and good luck boys."
Rourke and Joe saluted the Colonel before rushing to the open side door of the Black Hawk. Isabella ignited the engine of the stealth bird. Beside her was her co-pilot, one of the newer Peacemaker recruits, call sign "Angry Boy", a young Marine corps pilot recruited by the CIA. The two Marines worked in tandem to control the four and a half tonne beast of flight.
The sound dampeners muted much of the reverberating noise made by the spinning rotors. If all went well, Olympus wouldn't even notice they were in the country. The helicopter slowly began to lift into the air as Isabella maneuvered the aircraft towards the north.
It was a twenty minute flight to Sadoma. Rourke sat across from Joe, studying his OpTab−his rifle across his knee.
"What do you think?" Joe said to the SEAL.
"About what?"
"This whole mission?"
"This Unit is ass insane."
"Welcome to the Peacemakers, my friend." Joe responded, smiling.
* * *
Capitol Building, Sadoma, Zimbala
Titus jogged across the courtyard of the Capitol Building, spinning his finger in the air. The Hyperion pilots began charging their engines. The VTOL turbines roared to life as the obsidian black aircraft prepped for takeoff.
This is it. All things hinge on this.
It had taken Titus most of the morning to finish plans for the attack. It would be simple; blunt. A bold stroke of shock and awe.
This day would see the URAF utterly destroyed. Everything was in place; twelve Hyperion strike craft VTOLs and six Manticore helicopters, all under his command. He stepped inside the lead Hyperion, designated Zulu Alpha. Climbing into the RIO seat, he pulled up the holographic interface. He then switched the Bluetooth communicator on his ear to a closed frequency.
"Octavia, this Zulu Alpha, come in."
The Olympus Weapon scientist's voice came over the comm, sounding placid, "This is Octavia, go ahead."
"It is time. Activate Project Prometheus."
* * *
Olympus Blacksite, Sadoma, Zimbala
Octavia looked at her creation for a long moment before enacting her Tribune's orders. The weapon known as Prometheus stood at constant attention in his sedation unit. Once activated, her machine of war would follow the rigid set of commands she had programmed into him. He would destroy the Stinger missile defenses of Hatfield and enter the city, where he would kill all URAF forces he encountered.
The beautiful Olympus doctor was−for the first time since the mission began−having doubts. The tests of Prometheus so far had been inconclusive. His mind was behaving more erratically than ever. She knew her own command over his systems was weakening each time he left the Sedation unit. If they didn't apply the second half of the Code soon, his mental capacities would be rendered useless. His brain would cease functioning and everything, everything she had worked for would be destroyed. She knew Titus was being reckless. It was a trait in him she had tried to ignore, but his rashness only kept getting worse.
But...he is my commander. I am of the Olympia Brotherhood. We follow our commander. Even to our death.
Octavia closed her eyes for a second, offering a prayer to whatever deity was listening. When she opened her eyes, she had made up her mind.
"Activate Prometheus now."
The fluorescent armor of the ultimate soldier began to pulsate with energy as Octavia activated Prometheus from her control panel. Her heart was jack hammering, and she prayed she was making the right decision. The dark pits of the eyes behind the transparent helmet began to glow. The Sedation Unit was deactivated and Prometheus was now self sufficient. Octavia activated the mission timer on her holographic interface.
The towering cyborg stood rigidly at attention, awaiting his orders.
"You have your mission parameters," Octavia said to her creation. "Fulfill them immediately!"
"Yes, Mistress." The voice of the cyborg resounded through the Blacksite, deep and inhuman. Without another word, Prometheus bent low and used the hydraulics in the suit armor to propel it up through the roof of the Blacksite like a bullet. Smashing through the ceiling with no effort at all, Prometheus vanished from sight.
On her holographic interface, Octavia activated the observation drone that would follow the machine of war and observe everything he did−sending back detailed information on how Prometheus responded in combat.
I've unleashed my dog of war.
Octavia sucked her bottom lip nervously as she connected herself to Falco. The Olympus veteran had been fighting the URAF in the east area of the city, trying desperately to hold on to the contested district with the meagre forces he was given by his petulant commander.
Falco's voice came over the comlink, assured and calm as always, "This is Falco, over."
"It's Octavia. I'm sure Titus hasn't told you...but he's going to attack Hatfield."
"WHAT!" Falco's voice was livid, "Who gave him the authorization?"
"I think he gave it to himself. He's taken one squadron of Hyperions and a wing of Manticore helicopters. He is going to destroy the district."
"That's madness! I can't believe he would−"
"There's something else Falco." Octavia's voice faltered as she spoke.
"What?"
"He has activated Prometheus. He is going to use him to destroy the anti-aircraft emplacements."
The comm was silent. The old war dog was obviously thinking about what to do next.
"I have to alert Tiberius. Titus is taking this too far."
"He's doing what he thinks is right."
"He is going to ruin Olympus! The Imperator explicitly ordered that no civilian casualties were to be allowed. Hatfield is a civilian populace. International opinion will turn against us. Goddamn it Octavia, we are soldiers, not butchers!"
Octavia didn't know what to do. "Where are you know?"
"In the west district, on patrol. I'm heading back now!"
"Falco, he's...I hardly have any control over him."
"I'll talk some sense into the boy. Don't worry." The comlink disconnected.
Octavia rubbed her brow in fear, her eyes heavy with worry.
It wasn't Titus she was referring to.
Chapter 17
Few Answers, More Questions
Ukrainian Airspace, November 25th
The Spirit Walker skimmed atop the dark clouds hanging above the disputed country of Ukraine; making its way to the abandoned city of Pripyat. Having traveled the last several hundred miles above the cloud cover, Packrat had just informed his crew via intercom that he would begin to make his descent into the country in the next few minutes.
In the cramped cargo area, Danny was looking over Yune's shoulder at the makeshift computer terminal. The Doctor had confirmed that indeed Alexi Kiselyov, a famous Doctor of Nanotechnology had been found dead in a house in Minsk, Belarus. Now Doctor Mobus was the last survivor of the mysterious cabal of Olympus scientists who could very well hold the secret of the Code discs.
Doctor Yune read from the monitor, his face visibly uncomfortable. "...of the Doctor's six man security detail, all were found massacred with some sort of sharp edged weapon. Minsk police are working with Interpol in investigating a string of possible Russian mob revenge killings." He broke off, distressed at the horrific account. "This is really unusual for Olympus, Danny. The brutallity of these crimes just doesn't fit their MO."
Whisper stood up, stretching his neck muscles. He was still half-dressed in the Whisper suit, but was leaving off putting the helmet on until their reached Pripyat.
"I don't know what to tell you, Doctor. Either Olympus has hired a new sloppy hitman, or there's a killer out there with something to prove."
Orchid had been listening to the conversation for the past several minutes. Sitting off to the side on an empty cargo box, the JDF sniper had changed into her SWAT ensemble consisting of dark black pants and a black long-sleeved shirt with short sleeves. Around her torso was a Kevlar/Rynohyde vest given to her by Yune.
"It's a new design," The Doctor had said, "It utilizes spider-silk weaves along with tungsten disulfide nanotubes to protect from even a .50 caliber bullet. The packed interweaving helps mute the impact of a bullet, providing protection from bruising and internal damage. In fact, the material of the vest is so strong, it remains essentially unmarred after a bullet strike."
Orchid was making a final field strip of her PSG-1 sniper rifle, prepping it for whatever they would find when they reached Pripyat. For ammunition, she selected a box of armor piercing, teflon coated M61 150.5 grain cartridges. The armor piercing ammunition carried its hardened steel penetrator within a cupronickel jacket, similar to that which would surround the lead in a conventional projectile. Upon impact on a hard target, the copper case is destroyed, but the penetrator continues its motion and pierces the target. From what Doctor Yune had told her about the armor utilized by Olympus, this form of ammo would be the safest bet.
Beside her on the floor was a stripped MP5, fitted with a silencer; her main weapon of choice for close encounters.
Neither Orchid, nor Whisper had any idea what they would discover when they reached the abandoned city. In 1986, the Chernobyl nuclear reactor−at the time under the control of the Soviet Union−exploded, spreading nuclear fallout over much of western Russia and parts of Europe. It was a well known cautionary fable for the times against the danger of nuclear power, something echoed almost twenty-five years later in 2011 with the Fukushima meltdown after the Tōhoku earthquake in Japan.
According to the files Yune had pulled up about the city, Pripyat was supposed to be largely abandoned. The city that had held a population of nearly 50,000 people was now listed as having no current inhabitants at all. The once posh, beautifully designed city meant to represent the epitome of S
oviet state planning, had been reduced to a ghost town.
Until 2012, the borders of the city were guarded by members of the Ukrainian gendarmerie, known as the Ukrainian Internal Troops. They were a law-enforcement organization tasked with internal state security. In 2013, the Euromaiden protests that rocked the country, began to put a tremendous stress on the state's infrastructure. Now, nearly all guard forces of the city of Pripyat had been pulled and reassigned to riot control in the city of Kiev.
As Whisper read the briefing on his OpTab, he noted something. Although the city proper was indeed abandoned, there were still some holdouts around the fallout contaminated areas surrounding the city. Most were farmers and landowners who had refused to evacuate with the rest. Amidst untold radioactive fallout, it must take serious moxie to carve out a life amidst such unknown hazards. He wondered if they would find the mysterious Doctor Mobus among such people.
Packrat informed them they would be arriving at Pripyat in less than twenty minutes.
Whisper wagered he would find out soon.
* * *
Two Miles outside of Pripyat, Ukraine
The Spirit Walker dipped under the dark clouds on its descent to the barren countryside below. Much of the country surrounding the ghostlike Nuclear plant consisted of dead pine trees, turned a brackish red from the fallout spread downwind of the reactor, earning it the name 'The Red Forest'. They were now well inside the 'Zone of Alienation', a thirty kilometer exclusion area surrounding the Chernobyl plant. The radioactive contamination in the zone was some of the highest in the world. The Peacemakers would be landing several miles from that area, directly north of the city and far away from the worst of the radioactivity. Still, Yune had given Orchid a Geiger counter to attach to her wrist to keep track of any radioactive isotopes. He assured her that much of the radiation had cleared up and that the concentrations of radioactivity were well within acceptable levels for the amount of time they would be here.
