Stream of Madness

by Jim Roberts

  “What’s your sitrep out there, over?” Jade asked.

  “Not good. Turkish coffee is killing me and the asshole in charge of the landing strip is forcing us to leave. Something about landing permit revoked, blah blah blah, I wasn’t listening.”

  “Damn it,” Jade pounded her palm on the terminal, “Can you stall them any longer, Krieger?”

  “There are a dozen airport security men with guns outside the Spirit Walker who are telling us to leave now. I think answer is…no.”

  Jade looked at the hard-nosed Brit. Reynolds shook his head, “Shit timing, this.”

  “What’s shit timing, Sergeant?”

  Major Stanlin approached the group, his hands behind his back. Jade was about to speak when Brick took the initiative.

  “Sir, Headcase here has found conclusive evidence that our star Centurion is alive and well at a town in the south of Syria.”

  Headcase passed the Major a PC tablet with a map and footage of the location.

  Stanlin raised an eyebrow, “Is Braddock with him?”

  Jade shook her head, “No, sir, there’s no sight of him, but–”

  Stanlin held up a hand as he read the data. After a moment, he passed the tablet back. “This news would have been useful a day ago, Sergeant. As it stands, this mission is ended.”

  “With all due respect, sir,” Brick interceded, “This is the man we were in that country to find. If he is there, would it not be logical to assume that Sergeant Braddock would be as well?”

  “Assumption is the mother of all fuck-ups, Reynolds. I’d have thought a man of your background would know that,” The Major took a deep breath, “You’ve all done good work here, but this mission is finished. The financial cost of this operation has been astronomical for what we’ve got to show from it. It’s time to cut our losses.”

  Jade couldn’t contain herself.

  “And what about Joe? We leave him to die?”

  “That’s war, Corporal. He knew the risks and he played the odds.”

  “Joe should never have been there and you know it!” Jade exploded. Heads around the MOC looked up from consoles at the outburst.

  “Be careful Corporal! Don’t think I won’t snap you in half if you fling your insubordination at me!”

  Brick put a hand on Jade’s arm, “Come on, Masters, you’re pushing too hard here…”

  “Push nothing! Joe was mentally unfit for this mission, you could see that, anyone could see that! He should never have gone!”

  “That’s enough, Corporal! Under Article 91 of the Uniform Code of Justice, I am relieving you of duty,” Stanlin’s face was red with anger. His eyes went to Brick, “Sergeant, escort this woman from the building immediately!”

  The entire situation had blown up so quickly, Brick wasn’t certain how to react. Jade stood her ground, waiting for her NCO superior to do his duty.

  Breaking the silence, a voice that sounded like rusty sandpaper echoed through the MOC.

  “Can someone please explain to me what the hell is going on with my Unit?”

  Colonel Jackson Walsh.

  The Peacemakers stood to attention as the legendary war hero walked towards them through the crowded MOC. He was dressed in the command uniform of the Peacemaker Unit, consisting of a dress coat, tie and dark blue beret. An ocean of medals decorated his left breast. The Colonel had to lean heavily on a cane, but looked healthier than he had in weeks.

  Stanlin was the first to speak, saluting Walsh as he did, “Colonel, we didn’t expect you back so soon.”

  Walsh returned the salute, “No, I expect you didn’t, Major. Can someone care to explain what’s going on here?”

  “It’s simple, Colonel – Corporal Masters has shown grievous insubordination to a superior officer and I have relieved her of duty.”

  “Is that so? Can you explain yourself, Masters?” the Colonel asked, his good eye fixing itself on Jade.

  Masters took a breath, praying the Colonel would hear her out, “We received word from CIA intelligence that our missing Centurion has been sighted in a town thirty miles from the Jordanian border. I…we–” Jade gestured to Headcase and Brick, “–believed it to be enough evidence to send the Spirit Walker in to attempt an evac. Major Stanlin disagrees.”

  “Hmm.” Walsh nodded in understanding, “What about Sergeant Braddock? Was he sighted in the area?”

  Stanlin interrupted Jade before she could answer, “That’s a negative sir. The town the Centurion is located in was the sight of a recent attack by rebel forces. I made a judgement call to pull the plug on the mission. The cost of this Op has been exorbitant for the results and we cannot–”

  “Thank you, Major.” Walsh said, cutting Stanlin off, “You have no idea how glad I am that we have you looking out for the monetary interests of the Peacemakers. That’s why I chose you to help take this Unit forward.”

  Stanlin looked taken aback. He mustered a proud smile, “Well, ah, thank you Colonel.”

  “That being said, you are relieved. I am resuming operational control of the Peacemakers.”

  The Major’s eyes bulged. “Wha…Colonel, I don’t understand–”

  “Your services have been much appreciated. I have spoken with General Reimer, and he has told me to inform you that you are being transferred to Yokota Airbase in Japan, effective immediately.”

  “Yokota! Fucking Japan? Forgive me Colonel, sir, but there’s nothing going on in Japan–”

  “You have my deepest congratulations on your new assignment. A man of your candor and expertise will serve the Japanese Defense Force well,” Walsh saluted the Major, “God speed, Major.”

  Stanlin turned a bright pink. Flustered, he turned to look at Jade, his eyes filled with rage. “My order still stands. This woman is to be relieved, right now!”

  “That won’t be necessary, Major,” said Walsh, dropping the unreturned salute, “Corporal Masters’ abilities are required for this mission. Your order is canceled.”

  Stanlin met Jade with a withering look, “Count your fucking blessings, Masters. I don’t forget those who screw me over!” Stanlin turned back to Walsh and saluted, “Sir!”

  The Major stormed towards the elevator. As soon as he left, the group relaxed. Brick broke the silence.

  “Colonel, sir, may I say that we are overjoyed you’ve returned.”

  “The niceties will have to wait, Sergeant,” Walsh said, his tone all business, “We have an Olympus Centurion to find and a missing Peacemaker to bring home.”

  Jade could have kissed the old man.

  Walsh leaned against the cane, taking a moment to stroke his bushy moustache, “What’s the sitrep on the Spirit Walker?”

  “About to be booted from Incirlik any moment,” answered Jade, sitting down at her monitoring console, “They’re awaiting orders as we speak.”

  “Good.” Walsh checked his watch, “It’ll be ten o’clock over there. Once they’ve taken off, they are to head directly to the southern reach of Syria. If Joe is alive, and I were him, I’d attempt to get our defector across to Jordan. There are rebels along the Syria border working a thriving smuggling operation for refugees into Jordan. Still, it would be best if we could find him first.” The Colonel took a breath, looking slightly winded, “Alright, if that’s everything, I’ll leave you in charge of the details, Corporal.”

  Jade tried to hide a smile, but couldn’t help herself, “Yes sir.”

  Walsh looked around the MOC floor, his eye taking in the details of the techs and specialists, busy at their jobs. “Well, I must admit, Stanlin ran a tight ship.”

  The Colonel’s musings were halted by Bowser walking up to the Colonel and licking his shoe. Walsh gave Brick an ‘are you kidding me’ look.

  “Sergeant, why is there a mangy dog in my Operations Center?”

  Brick stood to attention, “Sir, I do not know, sir.”

  “Uh-huh. Kindly escort it back to the kennel if you would.”

  “Yes sir!”

  Walsh sho
ok his head and mumbled under his breath, “I hate vacations.”

  Jade busied herself with the task of relaying the Colonel’s orders, renewed hope flowing through her.

  I know you’re alive, Joe.

  I will find you.

  Chapter 18

  Resolute

  Twenty Miles North of Dummaya

  July 18th, 2015

  ABDUL RASHID Ibn Hamad sat in silence, staring into the campfire with an empty expression on his tired features. The remaining Riders of the Scorpion had gathered twigs from some old Myrrh trees to fuel a tiny blaze. The campfire provided little warmth in the cool desert night. Rashid wrapped his cloak tightly around him, trying to keep the chill out.

  The mission had all but crumbled before their eyes. The Men of the Scorpion had been soundly defeated by the Syrian Opposition, not to mention a few Shaitat tribespeople and a lone Peacemaker. They had been so close – had even seen the Centurion in their sights – and somehow, the entire plan had collapsed. Of the original forty members of the Scorpion who crossed the Euphrates, there remained only twenty-seven. It was the worst loss the Riders of the Scorpion had suffered in years. The survivors had withdrawn to this position, almost twenty miles north of Dummaya. They had set up camp near an old well used by desert travelers in the old days. Saladin had said they would be safe there for the night.

  Rashid looked up at his leader. Saladin stood just out of the glow of the campfire; a figure of melancholy in the desert night. Rashid knew his master bore all the responsibility of the loss. The Sand Scorpion would take the defeat personally, much more so considering this was to be his gateway into Olympus. Rashid wondered what they had done to anger Allah to curse them with such a defeat.

  After a time, Rashid stood up and walked past the other members of the Scorpion. The men were exhausted and bloodied; many nursing various wounds from the mortar shelling that had driven them from the town. Rashid moved to stand beside Saladin, wondering what he could say that would comfort his master.

  “My lord, you must eat something.”

  Saladin was silent. In the pallid moonlight, Rashid could see his lord’s eyes betrayed nothing of his inner thoughts.

  “My lord, please–”

  “Do you remember my words, Rashid?”

  Rashid blinked. “My lord?”

  “Back at Hijjâné, that day we witnessed true hate and loss. Do you remember what I told you?”

  Rashid searched his memory, “You mean the philosopher, my lord?” Rashid tried to remember the exact phrase Saladin had spoken to him, “…‘when bad men combine, the good must associate, or they shall fall…” Rashid stumbled on the final part, his memory not what it once was.

  Saladin filled in the rest, “‘–they will fall one by one, an unpitied sacrifice in a contemptible struggle.’” The Sand Scorpion turned to look at the remainder of his horde. Their faces were drained from defeat. Rashid’s heart broke, as he realized they had failed their master. Saladin took a long breath before looking into Rashid’s eyes. “I think I finally understand what Burke was saying when he uttered those words. We did not hold together as good men should. I watched as the Syrian Opposition blasted through the town, cutting us to shreds. Outside forces banded against us this day and we failed to stand against them.”

  Rashid swallowed a knot in his throat, “My lord, we should head to the west. Surely there are generals among al-Assad’s military that would be willing to hire us–”

  Saladin cut him off, “You think I am retreating, Rashid? You think after a loss such as this I am going to simply give up? How long have we fought together, old friend?”

  “Years, my lord. Good years, all of them.”

  “Yes,” Saladin said, looking his second-in-command square in the eye, “You have served me well, better than any commander could ask for. But don’t you see, my friend, this is only the beginning?”

  The Sand Scorpion’s voice grew louder, drawing the attention of his men, sitting around the campfire.

  “We have been given this one chance to become greater than we are. My rise to the Council Lords of the Olympus PMC shall give us greater glory than a thousand conflicts in this destitute waste,” Saladin turned towards his men, stepping into the firelight, his visage as tall and proud as a warlord of the Crusades, “We shall drive the ISIL scum from this land and liberate its people. We shall make America quake in its shoes when they hear the name of our band. Allah did not set us on this journey to concede defeat. We have taken one loss, yes, but we shall not take another. I swear this to you in the name of Allah the merciful. We will find the Centurion and bring his head back to Olympus! We will claim what is rightfully ours!”

  The speech drew the men out of their gloom, with many of them leaping up to proclaim Allahu Ackbar to the heavens. Their trust in Saladin was renewed, at least for a time.

  “Now, take a brief rest, for in an hour we shall–”

  Saladin’s final words were cut off by a call from one of the sentries on lookout. The entire group grabbed their weapons, preparing themselves for whatever was out in the darkness of the steppe. Rashid and Saladin rushed over to stand by the young sentry, a onetime al-Nusra soldier named Humam.

  “What do you see?” Rashid hissed to the man.

  “Over there…” Humam said, pointing directly in front of him, “Can you see it?”

  They looked into the dark, and sure enough, Rashid and his master spotted something moving towards them. Tall and dark, its metal parts shimmering in the moonlight, it shambled on two legs towards the camp.

  Brutus.

  As he drew closer to the campfire light, the men could see the Olympus tracker was badly damaged. Gruesome burn wounds spread across his exposed flesh and parts of the machinery and armor were sparking from the damage. The wolf helmet was bent and misshapen, but still kept the tracker’s head hidden from sight.

  But even with the horrible wounds, Brutus looked ready to kill. His entire body seemed to pulse with barely suppressed rage. The beast of war came to a stop before the three men, breathing heavily through his helmet.

  Saladin’s stone face changed to a mask of anger. “So you return. A failure in every way.”

  The man/machine made no response to show it understood. Rashid saw Saladin ball his hands into fists.

  “You are supposed to be the pinnacle of Olympus engineering. You were programmed to hunt and kill the Centurion, Sandor Delacroix. Why did you falter in your mission?”

  The creature stood a full foot taller than the Sand Scorpion, Saladin’s men watched breathlessly as the mercenary stood in front of the beast, berating its failures.

  “Talk you useless pile of steel and skin!”

  “Olympus orders were confirmed.” The beast spoke in a horrific tone that forced Rashid to take a step back.

  Saladin was unmoved, “What orders were confirmed?”

  “Order One: track and kill Sergeant Joseph Braddock, Peacemaker Unit. Order Two: track and kill Epsilon Centurion Sandor Delacroix.”

  Rashid drew up his courage and asked, “What do you mean ‘kill Joe Braddock’? How did you even know he would be in the country?”

  Saladin’s face became like marble once more, “The Centurion was not the reason you were given to us, was it Brutus?”

  The machine stood still, not answering. Rashid looked at his master, “My lord? I don’t understa–”

  “Don’t you see, Rashid? The Centurion was merely a ruse to draw the real target to Syria: our elusive Sergeant Braddock.” A smile spread across the Scorpion’s face, “Our employers are more devious than I could imagine. They still do not trust me yet. The Centurion was a lure for the real prize: the man that has been a thorn in the side of Olympus for over a year.”

  “Why did they keep this from us?” Rashid asked, still puzzled by the strange turn of events.

  “That I do not know, but when I have delivered the heads of both men to Tribune Falco, it will be the first thing I ask, be sure of that.” Saladin said, licking
his lips, “Brutus, are you capable of tracking our enemies?”

  The machine made a jerking motion that Rashid took to be a nod.

  Saladin smiled, “You have failed me once Brutus. Your use to me is finished. Do you wish to prove that you have merit in my eyes once more?”

  Brutus’s breathing became heavier. It nodded again. Saladin held out the small tablet Falco had given him a week ago. He dropped it to the ground and stepped on it, crushing it under his boot.

  “Excellent. Whatever previous orders Olympus has given you are to be deleted. You obey me now, in this and in everything from here on. I am your one true commander, is that understood?”

  “Yes.”

  “Good. You will hunt those two men down. You will inform me immediately of their exact location. If you prove yourself in this, I will give you the opportunity to tear their hearts from their chests. Go now and do not fail me again.”

  Without another word, the beast turned and blasted across the desert towards the south.

  Rashid shook his head, “I don’t understand, my lord. Why did Brutus even come back here?”

  “A machine requires a thinking mind, Rashid. The beast failed once and was programmed to inform its master of its miscarriage. Now that he and I are of the same mind, he will do exactly as I have ordered, with no more subterfuge from Olympus to cloud his judgement,” Saladin looked at Rashid and patted him on the shoulder, “Do not fear my friend; we will turn this defeat to victory!”

  Rashid took a long breath, going over the day’s events in his head. He knew they were at a crossroads. One path lead to the rise of his commander to the council of the largest Private Military in the world.

  The other lead to annihilation. They were heading deep into rebel territory. ISIL still prowled the southern steppe.

  Like it or not, this was the endgame.

  Chapter 19

  Parallel

  Rif Dimashq Governorate, Syria

  July 18th, 2015