by Jim Roberts
“This guy ain’t gonna make it, Alexei.”
Caedra pushed away from Krieger, ignoring her own injuries. “Tom, can you hear me?” she said to the pilot. The man stirred, his eyes barely focusing. Caedra knelt beside the dying Vagabond, wincing in pain. “You have to hold on, we’ll get you back home.”
But the man didn’t hear those words.
He couldn’t hear anything anymore.
Krieger lowered his head for a brief moment. He wasn’t one for sentimentality, having seen enough death and pain for three lifetimes. Still, he gave the man the respect in death he deserved as all who lost their lives against Olympus merited.
Caedra let out a long, halting breath as she tried to keep her emotions in check. Her iron-willed exterior returned and she reached out and closed the pilot’s eyes. Finished saying her goodbyes, she stood back up to address her two new companions.
“So…Krieger,” she said in her most commanding voice, “mind telling me what the hell you’re doing here in South Sudan?”
CHAPTER EIGHT
STARING BACK at the Vagabond warrior, Krieger folded his arms. “I could ask you same question,”
“I gotta admit, I never thought I’d see you again after the Caribbean,” Caedra said as she tested her bad leg. “You and those Peacemaker fools running around shooting everything with a pulse…no discipline at all.”
Krieger grunted, “Well that’s gratitude for you. By the way, you never did give me that date you promised.”
“What?” Caedra looked shocked. “I never promised you a date, you—”
“Bah,” Krieger said waving a hand dismissively. “Guess you have bad memory.”
“Christ,” Caedra said. “Just my luck to be stuck here with you.”
Graves looked confused, “Hey, is someone going to explain who she is or what?”
“This is Caedra…uh…” Krieger said, not knowing what her last name was.
The Vagabond soldier sat down on a broken tree trunk, wincing in pain. “Caedra will do,” she said as she reached down to check her leg. “Someone should check that Fenrir. There should be an emergency radio in the passenger area.”
“What the hell made you and your people walk into an ambush like that?” Krieger asked as he walked back to the crashed Fenrir. He began rummaging inside the passenger area, looking for anything salvageable.
“We’ve been helping the Sudanese rebels against Olympus for the past month,” Caedra answered, gritting her teeth as she attempted to pull her boot off. “We’ve been in all kinds of shit out here. What happened back there in the village…we just weren’t prepared for that.”
“You need some help?” Graves asked, eagerly looking at her leg.
“I’d sooner saw my leg off, if you don’t mind,” Caedra answered, giving the boot a hard yank to remove it.
As Krieger rummaged through the passenger area of the broken jet, he let out a cry of delight. He’d located the remains of a weapon locker near the aft section. After going through it, his excitement went overboard as he found something that made him immensely happy. Among several non-descript assault rifles and handguns was an AA-12 auto shotgun.
“Come to daddy, you beautiful bastard!” Krieger exclaimed, clutching the weapon like it was a warm puppy. Alongside the shotgun were several magazines of high-ex flechette rounds—shells full of explosive tipped projectiles capable of shredding armor like paper.
Excellent.
Also in the weapon locker was a Sako TRG-42 Magnum Sniper Rifle. The weapon was of particular interest to Krieger. The Finnish bolt-action rifle was capable of firing .338 super magnum cartridges at an effective range of 1500 meters. A solid standby for any contacts a person may run into in the open brush.
After a few minutes of additional searching, Krieger emerged from the Fenrir with several other useful objects. Each of the dead Vagabonds had held a Remington ACR Rifle—an American modular assault weapon favored by militaries and security forces around the world. He also snagged six hand-grenades, a set of binoculars with built-in night vision, several full canteens, and a first aid kit. Lastly, he found two charges of C4 locked in a special container marked Danger—Explosive. They each came with a remote detonator.
Sweet.
Krieger dumped the equipment on the ground and began to eagerly sort through it.
Caedra watched, her face changing in anger. “By all means, take whatever you want.”
“Thank you, don’t mind if I do.”
Caedra scowled. “Those were my mates in there, Krieger, you could try not to be the asshole you are and show them some respect.”
The Russian looked up as he checked the rifles. “They are dead. My mind is on the living now.”
Caedra looked as if she was going to say something more, but looked back at her leg, breathing in sharply as she checked it.
“How’s it look?” Krieger asked, gesturing to her leg.
“Sprained. Bad.”
“Hmm.”
“I can walk, though. Did you find the radio?”
Krieger shook his head. “No dice. It’s busted.”
“Dammit,” Caedra cursed, “The Vagabonds have been fighting hard against Olympus near the Ethiopian border. It could be hours—days before they can mount a rescue here. And that’s if they think anyone here is alive to save.” She shook her head in disbelief, “I can’t believe it was true all along…”
Krieger frowned. “What was true?”
“The Hammer of Mars. Olympus actually built it.”
Graves picked up one of the Remingtons. “What the hell is a Hammer of Mars?” he asked while nervously keeping an eye on the area for more drones.
“It’s exactly what you saw,” Caedra replied. “It’s an orbital weapon, designed by Sledge Industries’ aeronautic division.”
Krieger frowned. He remembered the name from Venezuela—the corrupt billionaire who attempted to sell a massive drone army to Olympus, only to be blown to hell by Joe and Agrippina.
Caedra pulled her boot back on, grimacing from the pain. “You see, after Venezuela, Olympus and their crack team of lawyers managed to seize control of Sledge Industries—all on the hush-hush. The Hammer of Mars was the final project put forward before Damien Sledge’s death. I don’t know much else than that other than what it does…and you saw that just as well as I did.”
Graves shook his head. He’d lit a joint and was busy smoking it like a chimney. “That kind of power…you mean they can launch something like that…from space?”
Caedra nodded, standing up shakily, “Yes. We don’t really know much about it. Is it a single satellite or collection of them—who knows? We do know it’s undetectable by sight alone and capable of multiple payloads. It’s up there right now, awaiting a single command to fire anywhere on earth—launching a swarm of drones that can destroy anything in their path.”
“This is just...crazy,” said Graves, shaking his head in disbelief.
“It’s the truth,” Caedra said in return. “You saw what it could do to a small village. Imagine what destruction it could cause in a heavily populated area.”
Graves looked dizzy as he continued to drag on his dope.
Caedra continued her story, “We heard reports a few days ago about a town destroyed just like this one. We found a sarcophagus—that weirdly shaped housing that carries the drones—just like the one back there. Everything within a three-mile radius was leveled. Everyone was dead—women, children, even the damn dogs. Before we were sent to this village, we’d just learned who was responsible for destroying the other villages—a man called the Praefectus.”
Upon hearing the familiar name, Krieger shot a glance at Graves.
Caedra took note of the reaction. “You’ve heard of him...”
Graves nodded as Krieger went back to checking the equipment. “He was at the village,” the gun-runner said, “Big guy in a set of silver armor. He was at the site with another dude calling himself Saladin.”
Caedra’s face turned a
shade darker. “I know both of them. If Saladin was there, it was only as an observer. It’s the other man I want. They call the Praefectus order ‘exterminators’—nameless commandants willing to commit acts of ruthless terror for the glory of the PMC. Lennox has a kill order out on him. I need to find him. If he’s the one that ordered this...” She looked over at the dead body of her comrade, her face twisted in rage.
Krieger stuffed the two C4 charges into a small rucksack he found while only half-listening to the Vagabond. Finishing up, he said, “Well, I hope you have good luck with that.”
Caedra shot Krieger a look. “Wait, you have to help me! Those Olympus bastards killed Tom—killed my men! You have to help me stop them. If they use that weapon again, there’s no telling what they can do.”
Krieger held up a hand, “Whoa whoa, we helped you out a bit back there, but that is it. Right now we’re on our way to Hashaba. So, good luck with everything—”
“What, you’re going to leave me here now?” Caedra’s face burned red.
“Well, ah, yes?”
Caedra scowled. “You’re every bit the scumbag I thought you were, Krieger.”
The big Russian shrugged. “Sorry, but I have problems of my own to deal with. I’m sure your people will find you soon. Right now, Graves and I need to salvage something to drive. So, good luck and everything...”
Having been silent for a while, Graves spoke up at last, “Oh, no way, I’m finished with this, Alexei.”
Krieger stopped in his tracks. He shot the gun-runner a penetrating glance. “What are you talking about? We have deal—”
“A deal?” Graves looked ready to laugh. “In the last twenty-four hours, you’ve destroyed my stockpile, ruined my business, got me shot at by killer orbital drones, and probably targeted by an Olympus big shot. There’s no amount of money on this planet worth working with you, Alexei.”
“I am man of my word, Graves.” Krieger said. “A hundred-thousand, that was the deal.”
“Deal’s off...and it was two-hundred thousand, you cheat.”
Krieger felt his anger boiling up. He reached over and grasped the man by the shoulder. “Damn it, you owe me. That time…those years ago…you owe me.”
“That may be, Alexei. One time I may have seen some honor in you worth dying over. That time’s long gone. You know, I always thought you might have learned a lesson in the years since I knew you. But all you’ve learned is how to ruin and use people. You haven’t changed at all and I ain’t wasting my life on you or this crazy search for Braddock.”
Caedra perked up at the mention of the name. “Wait, Braddock? Joe Braddock?”
Both men turned to look at Caedra. “Yes,” answered Krieger. “We think he’s somewhere near the village Hashaba. That’s where I’m going.”
Caedra shook her head. “No. He isn’t there. Not anymore.”
“How do you know that?” Krieger asked the Vagabond pilot, confused.
“Because,” Caedra replied, “after Hashaba was wiped off the map three days ago, Braddock was taken prisoner by Olympus.”
Krieger was dumbfounded. “What? Where is he now?”
Caedra clutched at her ankle. “From what we know, he was taken to an Olympus staging area a little ways from here, that they’ve named ‘Depot Casoria’. At least, that’s where he was the last time I heard any news about him. It’s also where the Praefectus and his crew of killers will most likely return to. They use it as a staging ground for all manner of shit they’re pulling in Eastern Equatoria.”
Graves threw up his arms. “There you goddamn go, Krieger. You destroy my life, ruin my business and I wasn’t even heading to the right place. You are the world’s worst luck charm!”
“I needed your help at the moment,” the big Russian said, trying to explain himself and knowing it was pointless. “It was all I could think of to get it.”
Graves snorted. “You never think, that’s the problem. Even that day in Baghdad, you betrayed your orders without thinking and got us both fired. You’re a goddamn wrecking ball. You destroy everything in your path and leave nothing behind. Well I’m finished with this. I’ll see you around, Alexei.”
Graves turned to march back towards the village.
“Where you going to go?” Krieger asked, following after Graves. “There’s nothing around for miles!”
“This is my country, Alexei,” Graves said. “Trust me, I’ll be fine when I’m away from you.”
“Alright!” Krieger said, exasperated, “What do you want me to say? I’m sorry I destroyed your place. I’m sorry I dragged you out here. I’m sorry about Baghdad. I need your help now. These things I do...I do, I don’t know why. You’re...you’re the only person I know that can help me.”
Graves stopped. Looking over his shoulder, he said, “You prove my point. You know, sometimes just it isn’t all about you, Alexei. Don’t try to find me again.” The gun-runner marched off without another word, disappearing into the jungle leading back to the burned-out village.
Krieger stood for a moment, rage burning him from head to toe. Even though he wanted nothing more than to squash Graves to pieces, a part of him knew he was right. His callous attitude would always get the better of him and now it may have cost him the chance to save Joe’s life.
As his guide disappeared into the brush, the grove became calm. Krieger stomped back and forth, cursing under his breath. “Goddamn Graves, no good sonova…should never have trusted him.”
Caedra, having watched patiently as the two men argued, said, “I know you want to get Braddock back. I’ve gotta warn you, even if he’s still alive and you somehow manage to bust him away from Olympus, your friend isn’t the same man you remember.”
“Friend?” Krieger said wryly, “You just saw the only other friend I ever had tell me to drop dead. Braddock…Joe is all I have left. My organization hates me, everyone near me usually dies. Joe is the only one who never left me behind and I will burn in hell before I let him die.”
Caedra seemed taken aback at the passionate response. Then at length, an idea seemed to cross her mind.
“That’s good. Then maybe we can help each other…”
CHAPTER EIGHT
Eastern Equatoria, South Sudan
April 23rd
A HALF HOUR later found the Peacemaker and Vagabond making their way back towards the devastated village. There was no knowing what they would find there, but since they were several dozen miles from any other civilization, Krieger had pointed out they would need to scrounge whatever they could find to help with that they had planned.
Caedra’s deal had been simple: she would lead Krieger to Depot Casoria and help him rescue Joe if he in turn helped her kill the Praefectus. Along the way they could hopefully find a way to stop further usage of the Hammer of Mars. To the big Russian, it sounded like an insane plan for just two people.
That’s why he liked it.
Limping along beside him, Caedra clutched the Sako TRG-42 sniper rifle. Krieger knew the Vagabond would be too much a liability in a standup fight with her wounded leg. She was a helluva soldier—he knew perfectly well having seen her in action during the Venezuelan campaign—but for this coming test, he would need her in support as he went in solo.
And that suited the Russian right down to the ground.
This time, there would be no one to get in his way. He would tear apart the entire depot himself if he had to. And after he was done peeling that scumbag Praefectus out of his armor, he would find Joe and bring him out of this damn country.
A stinking smell struck both of them as they reached the edge of the jungle—the acrid, bitter smell of pulse cannon mixed with the gruesome scent of burning flesh. Caedra gasped as they emerged to look upon the remains of the tiny Sudanese village.
Except for one or two tiny huts here and there, every single structure had been atomized by the drones’ energy weapons. Bodies were splayed everywhere across the scene—some burned far past recognition. The area was already attracting
scores of scavenger birds and bugs that were taking advantage of the grisly aftermath.
The massive sarcophagus responsible for launching the attack sat like a forgotten obelisk amidst the sea of destruction. Besides some remains of the drones the Fenrirs’ managed to destroy, the swarm was nowhere in sight.
“What did those little bastards fly to?” Krieger asked his companion.
Caedra shook her head. “No idea. There was no sign of the drones after the attack at the previous site either.”
Keeping their eyes out as they walked, Krieger kicked a vulture off of the meal it was making of a young child. The body was so burned, he couldn’t tell if it was a boy or girl. Caedra walked beside him, surveying the scene with an emotionless detachment that impressed the Peacemaker. As for himself, this was a scene he was far too familiar with to glean much sentiment from. War cared little for those caught in its wake, and Olympus waged its war with careless aggression and cruelty.
The numbness Krieger felt was a result of how he shielded himself from the horror of his everyday reality. He was comforted in the knowledge that the numbness would quickly be replaced by a burning desire to tear Olympus heads from their bodies.
Looking back towards the road alongside the village, Krieger saw the Hummer they’d left there was gone.
Graves, goddamn you. Krieger knew his former comrade must have taken it.
“Spread out,” Krieger said to his companion. “See if you can find anything useful. I saw a couple pickup trucks towards southern side of village. Maybe drones didn’t get them.”
Caedra nodded wordlessly. The two moved out, searching the detritus for anything at all they could use. Besides a few jerry cans of gas and some canned food, there was little left of note.
After a few more minutes of fruitless searching and avoiding bodies, Krieger found what he was looking for—a beat-up 2002 Toyota pickup truck. The vehicle seemed mostly untouched by the destruction. Checking inside, Krieger let out a grumble when he noticed there was no key. Opening the door and getting in, he began the task of hotwiring the vehicle. Giving the steering column a hard bash with his open fist, he yanked it off and grabbed the wiring harness connector. Inside it, Krieger located the bundle of wires housing the battery, ignition, and starter cords. He then set to work stripping the insulation from the twin battery wires and twisted them together. That done, he tied them to the ignition cord. Praying the vehicle had a decent charge still, he checked the dash.