Peace Keeper

by Greg Prado

  Greg Prado

  Peace Keeper

  A Futuristic Military Rescue Mission

  First published by Titanite Books 2020

  Copyright © 2020 by Greg Prado

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, scanning, or otherwise without written permission from the publisher. It is illegal to copy this book, post it to a website, or distribute it by any other means without permission.

  This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author's imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.

  Designations used by companies to distinguish their products are often claimed as trademarks. All brand names and product names used in this book and on its cover are trade names, service marks, trademarks and registered trademarks of their respective owners. The publishers and the book are not associated with any product or vendor mentioned in this book. None of the companies referenced within the book have endorsed the book.

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  For Mom and Dad: I finally wrote a story that you can show your church friends!

  Contents

  Want more great stories?

  1. Fourteen Kilometers

  2. Liability

  3. Effiges

  4. Edelweiss

  5. Disposable

  6. Evac

  Epilogue

  Did you enjoy Peace Keeper?

  About the Author

  Also by Greg Prado

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  1

  Fourteen Kilometers

  William Rutger stared up at the streaking fireball with dismay. He stood amidst a war-torn Berlin whose structures hadn’t been so rattled in over a century. Europe was losing the war. United against former allies, they were doing their best to withstand the Sino-Soviet assault. The Union’s defense was not succeeding.

  As he watched the smoldering hunk of metal re-enter the atmosphere, he was fully aware of what it contained. He’d heard the rumors and had seen the aftermath. The Americans, neutral in the conflict, had developed a super-weapon. It was unlike anything the world had ever seen. It was posited as a way to abate the freely flowing bloodshed that washed across both sides of the Third World War. He knew what was coming to Berlin, and for the first time in months, William was truly scared.

  Troops knew not to fire on field medics. It was against the Geneva Convention. Despite this, Peacekeepers seemed far less reliable. If the medic’s RFID tag was obscured or otherwise concealed by cover, they would be pulped alongside anything the robot’s intelligence viewed as a threat.

  The malevolent devil’s armament was bewildering. It sported an anti-personnel gatling cannon, an anti-armor rail gun that could pierce even the toughest of cover or armored vehicles. It was protected by several tons of reactive armor plating, which was designed to destroy damaging explosions before they impacted the robot chassis. It wielded a plasma caster, which served as crowd control when set to a widespread and infiltration tool when the super-heated stream of particles was narrowed. This demon was going to land a few kilometers from William’s position. He shuddered as the fireball dipped beneath the tops of the bombed-out cityscape.

  “Shit,” the thirty-something year old man sighed. He was running low on supplies. There would be no outgunning the monstrosity. Of course, even a battalion in its prime might have a difficult time taking down the lightning-fast mechanical titan.

  He noticed the impact in his feet first and then immediately felt a deafening shockwave that forced his mind to swim and his ears to ring.

  “My God,” he hissed. “That was like a bloody flash-bang.”

  William stretched his jaw, trying to force his eardrums to heal. A war-torn battlefield was no place for a chap to be off his game. William was many things, but he was never unprepared. His mind wandered to thoughts of Amelia as an awful rat-tat of machine gun fire filled the air, peppered by rocket explosions. He was sure the resistance would fall in short order after the peacekeeper’s deployment. He needed to find his target quickly.

  William was a medical doctor. His oath was to do his patients no harm. As such, when the prime minister had asked him to travel to Berlin on a personal favor, William could hardly say no. It wasn’t every day that a head of state phoned him. Minister Shandi had informed him that the patient was medically fragile but highly important to the Crown. His Majesty wanted the target smuggled out alive, however, the fact that the king didn’t trust his own soldiers with undertaking the mission definitely worried William.

  As he did his best to traverse Berlin’s demolished streets, William saw shredded carnage all around him. Torn vehicles had been tossed into storefronts by massive concussive blasts. Bystanders, who were unfortunate enough to take shelter in rooms that had been subjected to ion bombardment, had all fallen and rotted where they had once stood. William shuddered at the noxious fumes that spewed from the pharmacy but was actually thankful that those poor souls didn’t have to suffer in the same way as some of the others.

  The Third World War was brewed through the filter of a complacent and soft populace. There hadn’t been a truly massive conflict in over a century, and everyone was convinced that nuclear weapons would make war a thing of the past. In reality, major countries were hesitant to use them, even amidst a global conflict. Although, once that genie was awoken, it would lead to the end of it all. Even warring nations seemed to come to this realization as they threw everything but ‘the bomb’ at each other. Of course, that didn’t stop others from trying.

  “Eich-Weinert,” William muttered to himself as he flipped up his tablet’s navigation. The plan was to meet the mystery patient in a Deutsche restaurant called Zur Haxe. Apparently, the family had taken refuge there, along with a few others who managed to survive the firestorm, ion bombardment, and missile strikes. The toppled street sign clearly seemed to point to the left as he walked up Greifswalder. He turned and saw a pair of unidentifiable individuals with rifles strapped across their chests. He quickly dipped behind an upturned taxi while their backs were turned.

  William took a deep breath. He had a script for this very situation. Friend or foe, most people were pleased to see a medic.

  He gave a few raps to the hood while he remained crouched. He heard the men turn around and yell something in German.

  “Ich bin ein Arzt. Ich kann deinen Verwundeten helfen!” William shouted, as had become his routine. I’m a doctor. I can help.

  “Your German is terrible!” one of the men shouted back. “Come out, Englishman!”

  Taking a deep breath, William slowly and carefully rose to his feet. As he walked forward, he couldn’t help but notice that the distant gunfire had entirely ceased and, for the moment, all was quiet. He whispered a prayer for the brave soldiers and approached the smiling Berliners.

  “I am Friedrich, and this is Peter. We are part of the local militia protecting what is left of our city,” the taller of the survivors offered. Friedrich sounded downcast, which was something William understood. It was hard to be hopeful in the midst of being eradicated.

  “Dr. William Rutger,” he answered. “It’s a pleasure to meet you. I’m looking for—”

  “Yes, we got a message that someone was coming for the Fishers,” Peter spoke up. “We assumed a unit would be coming to escort them, not an unarmed doctor.”

  “I’m afraid arms won’t do much good in the coming moments anyway, my boy,” William sighed
. “I do believe a peacekeeper just landed a few thousand meters to the south. You and your fellow survivors would be advised to leave immediately. Any weapons might be taken as a sign of hostility to the construct.”

  “Where would we go, Doctor?” Friedrich asked, the man’s greasy unwashed blonde hair shining in the sunlight. “Are we to assume that the horrid beast won’t catch up to us? We have two dozen people here including women, children, and the elderly. I think we would be better advised to—”

  “Seventy-six infrared sensors,” William answered. “Over one hundred optical cameras with varying levels of zoom capability, eight hundred pounds of ammunition and ordnance, and innumerable other tools which the allies aren’t even aware of yet. That’s what awaits you if you stay. You are correct, mate, the chances of survival are slim if you move, but they’re certainly better than—”

  “The Fishers are in here,” Peter cut off the good doctor, his dark beard trembling. The young man was scared. He had put on a brave face, but William could tell he was shaking. The act was evidently for the good of the other survivors. He marched into the restaurant and pushed aside a Volkswagen commercial van that was serving as impromptu barricade after one of the survivors inside the restaurant shifted it into neutral. He dusted his hands off and turned to Dr. Rutger, “You do your best with what you have, yes?”

  William nodded at the man as he made his way inside the dimly lit restaurant. The windows had all been barricaded, so very limited sunlight found its way through tiny cracks in boards. Before the van was returned to its position, he saw frightened faces staring at him through bleary, marginally open eyes.

  “Good Lord,” he whispered, taking a look around at the malnourished bodies. They seemed to plead with him in the vain hope that he had brought something to eat.

  “We are few, but strong,” Peter spoke loud enough for the people to hear. “We gather supplies every day for those who cannot navigate the city. We are just trying to survive and hoping for peace.”

  “So do we all, my good man,” William nodded, speaking softly.

  They ducked under a fallen beam at the center of the room and made their way toward the kitchen.

  “Ich kann kämpfen Ich werde nicht wie ein kleines Mädchen behandelt!” a young woman screeched.

  “That, uh,” Peter laughed, his dark-brown hair bouncing along with his beard, “that would be Mieke.”

  “Das ist Blödsinn, ich sollte mich da draußen versammeln—” she yelled.

  “Mieke!” Peter called, motioning to Doctor Rutger. “This is William. He will be getting you and your family out of the city.”

  The other survivors didn’t seem to speak English, as none reacted, but all watched the pair as they disappeared behind the swinging door.

  “And what about the rest of you?” the young blonde woman asked. She looked much more fit and taken care of than the rest of the refugees. She hardly looked haggard at all. Her hair seemed meticulously coiffed, which was oddly out of place amidst the chaos and destruction. The curls fell to her shoulders in a stylish and attractive cut.

  William was a one-woman man, but he had to admit to himself that Mieke was stunning.

  “We will remain here. You know it is not safe to move a group of our size through Berlin,” Peter answered.

  “Mieke, it is a pleasure to meet you,” William began with proper British mannerism. “I’m Dr. William—”

  “Don’t take this badly, but I don’t give a shit who you are!” Mieke replied.

  William wasn’t quite sure how he could take that anything but badly.

  “Well, regardless, I have explicit orders from the Prime Minister to get you to London as soon as possible,” he explained. “We have a rendezvous fourteen kilometers to the west in twelve hours, around midnight. We need to be there with time to spare, and it’s almost midday.”

  “How do you expect my mother to make that kind of distance in her condition?” Mieke asked, gesturing to the woman who sat in the corner with a pair of crutches. She looked to be little more than forty, and to William’s keen medical eye, had an advanced case of scoliosis.

  “If we set off now, we might be able to find a vehicle along the way which could be of assistance,” William answered. “Either way, the trek is doable even with the help that will be required. Your mother is quite capable of making the journey.”

  “Yes, Mieke,” she replied, standing with the assistance of her crutches. “I’m not as fast as you, to be sure, but I’m not an invalid, either. We must do as the doctor says and leave right away.”

  The scars along the woman’s neck gave away the root cause of her issue. It was either a failed spinal fusion, or the curvature was beyond anything William had ever seen before the operation. William looked to the man at the immediate right of Mieke’s mother. He seemed to be the strong silent type. He nodded along with all the blissful ignorance of a man who didn’t understand the language being spoken.

  “We should leave—now,” William urged. “I get the strong feeling that we will need as much time as possible for our escape.”

  Mieke threw her fists down in protest as she stomped. Her black leather boot met the tile floor with such force that a clapping sound was heard throughout the room.

  “And what about them?” she blasted. “Are we to leave them to die?”

  “Mieke, please,” Peter urged with outstretched arms. “You are upsetting the others. You know that a group of our size wouldn’t be able to move through the city unnoticed. That would only mean further loss to them. They’re already shattered enough, wouldn’t you say?”

  “I’m sorry Peter,” Mieke relented, looking ashamed. “I just don’t want to—”

  “Mieke, go. Now!” Friedrich burst in, sending the wooden kitchen door flying so hard that it recoiled off the wall. “The explosions are getting closer, and I don’t want you to be caught in the crossfire due to this ridiculous indecision.”

  Mieke looked dismayed. She clearly respected the commonly dressed man. His greasy jeans and dirty hands showed the telltale signs of a man who was willing to fix any situation. In her case, Mieke was the one who needed adjustment.

  “Fine,” Mieke finally agreed to everyone’s demands, “I’ll just grab my things and we can—”

  A mechanical whine preceded an impossibly loud echoing stream of awful noises. Everyone in the kitchen flinched as artillery exploded at some indeterminate location nearby.

  “Are they here?” Mieke screeched.

  “Not yet, but close!” William added.

  “No time for goodbyes, mein Liebling,” Friedrich sighed as he ran a hand across her hair. It was unclear to William how long the two had known each other, but Mieke seemed to mean a lot to Friedrich. “Come quickly, now. Out the back. I will close it behind you.”

  “Dankeschön, Friedrich,” Mieke’s father whispered as he moved to assist with the removal of the oaken plank barring the rear door.

  Mieke sadly moved toward the rear of the room, obviously distraught that she needed to leave without time to speak with the others. She slipped a shoulder under her mother’s to help expedite her traveling speed. William watched the unlikely pair as he followed.

  Mieke’s mother was small in stature. Her plain green dress was loose and flowed almost to the floor. She looked as though a gentle breeze would have crumpled her. Mieke, on the other hand, was statuesque. She stood well over a head taller than her father, and her long legs were covered by dirtied blue jeans. Her purple short-sleeved top looked almost too small for her and hugged her form tightly.

  The four of them hastily made their way through the rear door of the restaurant. William shuddered as the unmistakable scent of gunpowder and a burning city filled his nostrils. The peacekeeper had been close; he guessed within a few hundred meters. The four moved quickly and quietly down the back alley that was peppered with shattered stone and ash. A tiny stream of jet-black rainwater ran down the center. It was as though someone had carelessly emptied a fountain pen in the middle
of the street.

  William flipped open his hand-held navigator, and a projected path equipped with cardinal compass signs illuminated in front of them. Fourteen point three-seven kilometers stood between them and freedom. He sighed deeply as he stuffed it back into his pocket. The alley would serve as a good cover for almost one of those kilometers. They were lucky enough to be on a straight path for a little while. William hoped to put some distance between the peacekeeper and the escaping gang.

  His hopes were dashed as another awful spray of gunfire roared out. It was a short three-second burst but was followed by an even more sinister sound. The weapon seemed to elicit a chorus of screams from whatever the monster was attacking. The sound wasn’t soldiers’ panicked hollering—women and children were wailing at the top of their lungs.

  Three quick whooshes were followed by a trio of deafening explosions. No one could hear anything after the concussive blasts, but William was almost certain that whatever the machine was assailing had been wiped out. It was at that particular moment his suspicions were confirmed.

  Peacekeepers didn’t kill civilians, except for the odd accident. They were marketed as a humane solution to an ugly and despicable war. They could surgically enter a location and eliminate a target with minimal collateral damage. Berlin was unique for two reasons. William had noticed that his communications array had no signal when he’d checked their path. Radio-frequency broadcast had come a long way since the twentieth century. Although the GPS signal was undoubtedly being jammed, the radio signal being down could only mean one thing. The New Soviet Republic wanted a blackout over Berlin for what they intended to do. The peacekeeper was sweeping the city and destroying everyone in its path.

  It was looking for the Fishers.

  2

  Liability

  “William that was close!” Mieke worriedly stressed. “Was it firing on the refugees?”