by Jim Roberts
Freezing rain began to pelt the aircraft as it exited the cloud cover. Ukraine had yet to receive a snowfall in the early winter, but the weather was still markedly cold. Whisper looked out the hull window at the countryside below. Ukraine was largely temperate and the foliage in the northern part of the country was mostly pine and yellow aspens. Whisper would be fine in his armor, but Orchid had to throw on an alpine ski-jacket for warmth. Yune had already discovered a suitable landing site and gave Packrat the coordinates where to set them down. The Spirit Walker's heat imaging sensors had shown a few scattered forms of life around the area, but nothing that resembled a human.
Yune switched his monitor setup to uplink with the CIA's current tracking satellite going over the North-Eastern Hemisphere. Danny swept the imaging results for any clues for current residents, but was unable to make any conclusive observations. There were around two dozen small farm-sized abodes surrounding the outer border of the town in a two mile radius from the city, but to the Canadian, none of them looked inhabited.
"It looks like we're pretty much alone out here, Danny." Yune said, after a few minutes of scanning the area.
Whisper nodded, checking one final time to make sure everything in the suit was as it should be. The fight in the Russian discothèque had not caused any noticeable damage, and so far, the suit was operating extremely well. He pulled the Mantis Staff from his thigh and gave it a quick once over before reattaching it. Danny was also bringing the Compound bow, readied in his right hand. For this mission−where he would be in wide open areas−he wanted the bow's stealth over his caseless rifle's bludgeoning power.
Packrat's southern accented voice came over the intercom system, "We're landing two miles north of the city, as you guys asked. Hitting the LZ in T-minus thirty seconds!"
Since much of the surrounding area was woodland, the stealth aircraft would be hidden from any Russian AWACs flights that−improbably−may be flying nearby. Yune had discovered a nice open patch of land in the midst of the expansive forest around the city, which would make a perfect landing zone for the Spirit Walker. During the length of the mission, unless Danny called for it, the modified stealth Osprey would stay here and provide the two Peacemaker's with whatever long distance support they needed.
With a loud bump, the VTOL aircraft landed on the fabled ground where twenty-five years ago, the world's worst nuclear disaster occurred. As Danny waited for the aircraft landing bay to open, he wondered to himself if indeed they would find in this cold, barren wilderness, the man who hopefully held the key to unlocking what the Code of War truly was.
"Now remember," Yune said, spinning his chair around to talk to the two soldiers, "Radiation in this area of Chernobyl is relatively mild. But even so, keep an eye on your Geiger meters, just to be safe. A reading of one REM on the counter carries with it a zero point zero five percent chance of cancer growth. If the meter reads anything over point five of a REM, double back and circle around the area. If it becomes too thick, exfil to the Spirit Walker and we will find an alternate path to the location. Questions?"
Danny and Orchid both shook their heads. The soldiers knew the score. Radiation was a silent killer and neither Danny nor Orchid would be taking risks around areas contaminated with it. Danny pulled the Whisper helmet on and snapped it into place. Yune opened the bay door. The smell of frozen country air swept into the cabin.
"Good luck." Yune said quietly, giving the two Peacemakers a supportive smile.
"Thanks, we'll need it." Orchid replied, hefting her PSG-1 onto her back. She readied the MP5 and followed the armored Canadian soldier down the loading ramp and onto the cold ground of the Polesia forest region of Chernobyl.
A profound silence swept over both of the Peacemakers after the ramp lifted back up. The freezing rain had stopped temporarily and, where in most forests the sound of animals and insects would be copious, in this place there was merely a morose silence. The clouds above pressed down oppressively upon them, casting everything in a dreary gloom. The trees surrounding them were twisted and deformed−adding to the pervading dread both team members felt.
There was nothing else for it. Orchid looked into Whisper's faceplate and nodded. The two moved into the forest to locate the elusive Doctor Mobus. Danny Callbeck had the distinct impression that they were heading into the hideout of an unknown ghost, long forgotten by the world.
He only hoped this ghost could talk.
Burakivka Station, Nine Kilometers from Pripyat City Proper
Ukraine gendarmerie Officer Mykola Petrushevych stepped out of Burakivka guardhouse two, cursing the miserable weather as he did every day. This day in particular had been typically boring for the forty-two year old guardsmen, who had spent the early morning swallowing a breakfast of deruny, or potato pancakes, and washing it down with a thermos of strong black coffee.
He would need the caffeine to get through another day stuck at this point of no return.
This was the armpit of the world, no mistake. Mykola had been stationed at the western entranceway to the no-man's land of Pripyat for the past three months and was starting to go absolutely stir crazy. He had begun to wonder if anyone would care about or miss him if he left. In the entire time he'd been stationed here, there had been only a dozen people he'd had to turn back the way they came. Mykola had been chosen to be the single guard of the western entry point into the city, for the singular reason that the he enjoyed the quiet.
That was then. This was now.
Mykola would sell his son, if he had one, into slavery if it meant getting out of this dump. The Burakivka station was a falling down mess filled with cockroaches the size of mice. His pay was always late, as if his superiors had forgotten him.
His wish for a cushy border guard job had turned into a purgatory: a ceaseless existence that, due to the increased budgetary problems of the Internal Troops of Ukraine, looked like it would continue forever. As Mykola stood on the porch of the ramshackle Burakivka station, he saw that a heavy fog was creeping in from the forest. He pulled his ushanka fur trooper hat down on his head and stepped out onto the road, trying to take his mind off his current predicament. A mechanically controlled barricade stretched across the street with a sign written in Ukrainian saying Halt, no further. Mykola walked over and placed a hand on the yellow barricade as he cursed the cold weather.
A sound from further down the west road made the middle-aged guardsmen look up. The thick fog obscured pretty much everything over 100 meters away, but he could vaguely make out what appeared to be a human shape, walking eastbound towards him.
Mykola was perplexed. It was a forty kilometer drive to the next station along the highway. There were no settlements he knew of between the two stations.
Why would somebody be out walking on the road to Pripyat on a day like today?
Mykola unshouldered his AK-74u Kalishnikov and held it at the ready.
"Who goes there?" he shouted in Russian.
The figure kept moving, gradually breaking through the barrier of fog.
It was a woman. Perhaps the most beautiful woman Mykola Petrushevych had seen in his entire life. Tall, athletic and clad in a long, black fur coat; she sauntered towards him as if on her way to the pub.
When the woman had reached within twenty feet of the barricade, Mykola shouted again. "Halt at once!"
The woman stopped as ordered. Her gorgeous face looked at the dejected station; a wry smile twisting her blood red lips.
"Beautiful day, yes?" She spoke in perfect Ukraine.
"Who are you?" Mykola asked, ignoring her question.
"Not important. Has there been anyone through the gates today?"
"No," Mykola answered, lowering his weapon slightly, but never taking his eyes off the strange woman. "It is quiet as usual. Who are you? Do you need help?"
"I am looking for a man, perhaps you know him. Hans Mobus?"
"Yes, I know the doctor. He is one of few residents inside perimeter."
"Could you tell me where he
is?" Her voice sounded like a sweet cat's meow.
Before he knew what he was doing, Mykola answered, "He lives north of Pripyat, small house."
"Thank you."
The beautiful woman moved her eyes slightly, as if looking at something past Mykola's head. Before the Ukrainian Interior Trooper could look behind him, a bladed weapon tore through his chest, gouging upwards in front of his eyes.
He had been speared from behind.
Mykola gagged on a gout of blood as he looked at the piece of metal protruding from his chest.
Whoever had attacked him abruptly ripped the blade back out, causing the soldier to fall to the ground.
The woman looked down at him, her smile turned rather sad.
"You've been a big help, sweetie. Dosvadonya." She switched to Russian for the last word.
As Mykola breathed his last few labored breaths, he saw several soldiers, wearing obsidian body armor and sporting odd, wolf-like helmets on their heads fade in as if from nowhere. To Mykola Petrushevych's dying eyes, it looked as if they had been invisible. The woman gave the ailing guard one last wink before walking on her way, ducking under the yellow barricade.
As Mykola Petrushevych slipped into the great mystery that was death, a single thought moved through his head.
What would anyone want with a useless basket case like Mobus?
* * *
WHISPER AND his rookie companion moved at a brisk pace through the increasingly fogbound forest. The sensors in the Whisper helmet allowed Danny to stay on track, despite the increasingly dense mist.
"Are you sure you know where you're going?" Orchid asked, trying in vain to squint through the heavy white fog.
"The Heads-up-Display in the helmet gives me complete directional awareness. There are three buildings in this direction which could be our Doctor Mobus."
After a twenty minute walk through the alpine forest, they finally came out of the trees and into, what appeared to be, a small acreage. A structure that could barely be called a shed stood up from the ground, half sunk in the dirt and badly decomposing. The remains of a fence stood nearby, also badly neglected. After a quick but careful search, the two Peacemakers deduced if anyone had been here, they'd left ages ago. They moved on.
The next area on Whisper's list of possible structures that could be home to their elusive quarry, was a small farm about 500 meters to the southwest. The two steered themselves in that direction, careful not to make too much noise as they re-entered the cold, fogbound forest.
"Why on earth would a man like this Mobus live in such a place?" Orchid asked, accidently stepping in a hidden puddle of murky water. Leaves scattered the ground everywhere, making walking slightly treacherous.
"Don't know. He obviously likes his privacy." Whisper answered, sweeping his head left to right. The forest was still deathly silent. The sensors of the helmet display were showing no movement in the area−at least where his sensors could penetrate the thick fog.
It was another twenty minutes of tough movement before the two companions exited the forest once more.
This time, the stealth soldier and the Asian sniper found themselves at the edge of an old acreage. Half forgotten in the middle of nowhere, the spread looked as if it had been a cow or sheep farm many years ago. But now, it was all but abandoned. A tiny farmhouse stood nestled against a demolished barn. As the two approached the structures, Orchid blanched.
"Ugh...you smell that?"
Whisper stopped and looked around. "I can't smell anything in this suit. A bit of a trade off."
"It's a rotting animal, I think."
Whisper clutched the bow tightly as they made their way around the acreage, looking for any signs of life. They soon discovered the source of the smell; a dead cow, bloated and rotting in a tiny pen. Danny judged it had died of malnutrition. Orchid looked around. The area was as silent as a funeral parlour.
"Let's check the house." Whisper said, gesturing to the rickety structure. The home looked as if it had stood for over a hundred years. The house was one floor high, with nearly all of the paint having chipped off years ago. Orchid hefted the MP5 to cover Whisper as he lead the way to the front door.
A sound drifted from the structure, barely discernable. Whisper amplified the suit's sound reciever.
Music.
Beethoven, if Danny had to guess.
"Should we knock?" Orchid asked.
"Well...it'd be the polite thing, I suppose." Danny reached out and knocked on the door twice.
No answer. He reached down and tried the door knob.
It was unlocked.
Danny gestured for Orchid to cover him. He pressed a button on the bow grip and the weapon retracted in on itself. Connecting the bow to his back, Danny pulled his Mantis Staff from his thigh, holding it tightly. He placed his hand on the knob and opened the door, moving inside slowly.
The interior of the house was in an equal shambles. Stacks upon stacks of books were piled waist high around the domicile. Almost every corner was filled with enough books for a small library. Several upturned tables and chairs were spread throughout the home.
And at the far end of the house, seated in a wheelchair, was the abode's sole occupant.
Orchid moved forward, lifting the MP5. "Don't move!" she shouted.
Whisper put a hand on the barrel of Orchid's weapon, lowering it.
"I don't think he can."
The man was facing away from them, slouched in a chair opposite the old fireplace on the side of the home. Whisper could only see the top of his head, a messy bird's nest of grey hair. The man was swathed in an old plaid housecoat, full of moth holes.
"Sir, are you Doctor Hans Mobus?" Whisper asked, holstering his staff.
The man didn't move. Whisper wondered if he might be dead. Everything else around here was. But then his shoulders seemed to stir and the man's head began to raise slowly.
"I've been waiting for you for a while now. You're late." The man spoke with an indiscernible European accent, Bulgarian perhaps.
Orchid shot a questioning glance at Whisper. "What do you mean late?" she asked.
"Beautiful music isn't it? Samuel Barber's Adagio for Strings."
The man's voice was wistful and rich with sorrow.
Danny smiled to himself. Beethoven. Right.
"It's very sad." Whisper replied.
"It is a masterwork of minor key lamentation. Passion and pathos. The music simply weeps for the future." The man reached down and gripped the tires of his wheelchair and turned it towards his guests. "I expected you months ago. Wasn't sure when you would get up the courage to come and find me."
Whisper wasn't sure how, but somehow he was certain this was Doctor Mobus. The man looked in his late seventies, but was probably younger. His face was ashen and unwashed. He was waif-thin and looked very sickly. But despite his outward appearance, the man's hard green eyes were alive and intelligent. They were the eyes of a man who'd seen much in his life and was now content to wait out the clock in the cold purgatory he'd purchased for himself.
"Yes, I am Doctor Hans Mobus. I'm ready to die now. Let's make it quick."
Orchid lowered her weapon completely. Whisper shook his head. "We're not here to kill you sir. We need your help."
"Hmm. I was hoping you were here to kill me." The doctor tossed a book he had been holding onto the ground in front of him with a grunt. He reached over to the small stereo unit that was piping out the music and shut it off. "You have no idea how boring this place is."
Whisper began to move towards the Doctor, slowly. "How long have you been here, Doctor?"
"Huh? Oh, about two years I think. Maybe longer. Can't really remember very well."
It was then that Danny noticed an IV bag attached to the wheelchair handle. A small needle was poked through the Doctor's hand.
"Are you sick Doctor?" Orchid asked, seeing the bag as well.
"Cancer. I don't recommend it." He looked at the IV bag, morosely. "Down to my last few bags. I guess
you got here just in time, whoever you are." The doctor didn't seem to care that the man speaking to him was dressed in an armored suit.
"We're with the CIA, Doctor." Danny said, "My name is Corporal Daniel Callbeck and this is Private Yuanza."
"CIA huh?" The Doctor snorted. He pushed his wheelchair roughly forward, overturning several stacks of books as he went. "Nothing good ever came out of those sanctimonious secret-keepers."
"Well," Danny said, smiling inside the suit, "We're more of a special ops unit. We've been investigating−and fighting Olympus for the past six months."
The Doctor didn't seem to be listening. He began searching through a massive stack of papers near what looked like a foldout table. The old man had to slap away several cockroaches before he found what he was looking for. Orchid grimaced.
Whisper tried to get Mobus's attention. "Sir...what are you−?"
"Looking for something...damn it, where is it?" The Doctor angrily tossed several large stacks of papers and books onto the ground.
"Sir, we don't want to take up too much of your time. We need to ask you some questions." Danny wasn't sure he was getting to the old man.
"Where is it...where..."
"We need to ask you about the Code, Doctor."
At the mention of the word, Mobus seemed to calm down. His shoulders hunched and it looked like he'd given up looking for whatever it was he needed.
"Yes...of course."
Danny cleared his raspy throat, trying to sound as clear and concise as he could, "Sir, I don't know how much you know or don't know, but my team recovered a disc eight months ago from an Olympus fortress in the country of Kazinistan."
Mobus slowly began to turn his chair around. His wrinkled face was an unreadable mask.
"Despite our best efforts, sir, we cannot break the encryption of the..."