The Peacemakers

by Jim Roberts

  At the next crossroad, he made an immediate left turn and headed into the south section of the city. The buildings were denser there, packed tightly together by their Russian architecture in order to maximize population efficiency. He felt the fire from the VTOL subside momentarily as it moved higher to regain its firing line.

  He didn't know why he had saved Agrippina. The few seconds of freedom he'd felt after her defeat had vanished as soon as he saw the two VTOLs approach. He knew she was a pariah now−unneeded by her own kind. His innate sense of honor had forced him to act quickly, regardless of the consequence. She now held tightly to him, like a lost street cat.

  The rain pelted them relentlessly, pouring down in a brackish misery that seemed incapable of stopping.

  Whisper made one more left turn−

  −onto a dead end close.

  He skidded to a halt, a flame of sparks erupting under his metal boots. The VTOL roared into the close behind him, taking a stationary hover over the area−knowing full well its prey wasn't going anywhere.

  Whisper looked around for an exit−anything.

  There was nothing. All the buildings were too congested together, with no clear exit point.

  He had only bought them a few precious minutes.

  Agrippina stirred in his arms, turning to look at the hovering VTOL.

  "I guess we go out together, won't we hun?" She turned back and looked into Whisper's helmet.

  He said nothing. What could he say?

  The VTOL armed its cannons; Whisper could see them tilting towards their position.

  Agrippina held on to Danny tightly, bracing for the end.

  The sound of autocannon fire broke through the howl of the storm. The VTOL shook violently as it was rattled with multiple bullet strikes. Smoke began to pour from its starboard engine. It banked hard upwards, as if to try and flee the area, but it was for nought.

  Confused beyond reckoning, Whisper tried to focus through the blistering rain to see what was attacking it.

  The Spirit Walker! The belly mounted 30mm autocannon of the Peacemaker's new stealth jet was spraying the Olympus VTOL for all it was worth.

  A voice broke through on Whisper's comlink.

  "You boy's need a hand?"

  Packrat's southern accented voice sounded like music to Danny's ears.

  The Hyperion plummeted to the earth and erupted in a burst of fire and shrapnel, just one-hundred feet from Whisper and Agrippina's position. Ducking to avoid any flying debris, Whisper watched the CIA stealth jet swoop in low behind them and land on the asphalt. The side door opened and Doctor Yune stepped onto the rainy street, clutching his coat tight against the pounding rain.

  "We thought you guys had given up on us," Whisper said, sounding relieved.

  "The radiation in the city and surrounding areas must have caused the disruption in communications. When we heard the explosions in the city, we came as quickly as we could."

  Yune suddenly realized Agrippina was in Whisper's arms.

  "Danny−what are you doing with..."

  "It's a long story, Doctor. Where is Orchid?"

  Yune frowned. "We thought she was with you!"

  Whisper shook his head. "We got separated."

  "Wait−" Yune shouted, pointing behind Whisper. The stealth soldier turned around. A profound sense of relief flowed over him as he saw Orchid come jogging towards them, avoiding the blazing ruin of the Hyperion.

  "Thank God you're okay." Whisper said as Orchid approached.

  The sniper nodded, "I've never seen anything like that!"

  "Just another day at the office," Whisper assured her. "You did well, Private. Very well."

  As the group walked towards the landed Spirit Walker, Yune moved to speak with Whisper. "After we took off, we received a priority communiqué from the Colonel."

  "What did it say?" Whisper asked.

  "The fight in Zimbala is going badly. They need our help as soon as we are finished here."

  Orchid entered the Spirit Walker first, followed by Yune. The Doctor turned to help Danny load the exhausted Olympus assassin into the aircraft. They would find some form of manacles to keep her chained while they figured out what to do with her. Before entering the aircraft, Whisper turned to look at the wasteland of a city beyond.

  "There's nothing left for anyone in this place."

  With that, he shut the door. Packrat ignited the engines and the VTOL lifted into the rainy late afternoon sky.

  Chapter 21

  Raging On

  Sadoma, Zimbala, November 25th

  The acrid stink of smoke and helicopter fuel brought Joe Braddock back to reality. He tasted blood in his mouth from a broken tooth, dashed out during the crash. The sound of the Black Hawk's emergency alert signal was beeping incessantly in his ear.

  Joe had no idea how long he'd been out. His entire body hurt as he pulled himself up enough to look around the crashed helo. To his right, he saw Rourke, crumpled into a ball against the passenger seat. For a moment, Joe thought the SEAL was dead, but a brief bit of movement from the man's legs told him he was still alive.

  The entire helo was filled with clouds of dust and smoke. Joe coughed as he hauled himself up inside the crippled interior. A blast of pain radiated from his left hand. His ring and little finger were bent sharply back at a grotesque angle.

  "Godammnit."

  Joe crawled towards the cockpit. A stream of blood was sprayed across the canopy. The co-pilot, Angry Boy, was nothing more than a mound of grisly flesh−his upper body blown across the cockpit by the Hyperion thermal weapon. Joe swallowed a mouthful of bile as he checked on his other teammate.

  Isabella lay like a broken doll in her seat, her left arm bent backwards unnaturally. Her eyes were shut tight and blood oozed from her mouth.

  "Cordova...Izy!" Joe coughed as he checked Isabella's pulse. Her face was covered with glistening blood. Joe couldn't tell what was hers and what was her co-pilot's.

  He heard Rourke stirring in the back.

  "Chief, are you all right?" Joe asked, trying to prop Isabella's head up. At last he found her pulse, weak but identifiable. She was still alive.

  Rourke dusted himself off. "Yeah...think I busted a few ribs, but...I'm alright."

  Joe thanked his lucky stars for that. The outstanding design work of the Sikorsky engineers was to be commended for the relatively crash-proof construction of the Black Hawk.

  "Help me out here!" Joe said, calling to the SEAL. Rourke moved up to the cockpit, wincing as he looked upon the remains of Angry Boy. Joe steeled himself. There was no time now for grief. Between the two of them, they unhooked Isabella's harness and checked for any other wounds.

  Joe's comlink, that had until now been sending a hazy white noise signal, abruptly cleared. The voice of Colonel Walsh came through the haze.

  "...geant Braddock...come in...over?"

  Joe clicked the comm on, as he continued working to free the young pilot. "Colonel, this is Braddock, over."

  "Thank God! What's your situation, over?"

  "We've been shot down, somewhere in the downtown district. I...can't be sure where. Angry Boy's dead. Isabella is badly wounded."

  "Satellite imaging is showing massive Olympus presence in the downtown region! You need to get to safety now!"

  At almost the exact second the Colonel finished, a stream of bullet strikes tore across the front of the Black Hawk. Joe pulled Isabella down, trying to be as careful as possible. Jostling her too much could aggravate her wounds and kill her outright.

  "Dammit! Who's out there?"

  Rourke peered over the dashboard. "Looks like about...twelve or so of those Centurion guys you mentioned!"

  Shit.

  "Help me pull her out!"

  Together, both men pulled Isabella from her seat and into the passenger bay of the downed bird, doing their best to stay out of the gunfire wracking the exterior of the Black Hawk. Mindful of his broken fingers, Joe pulled his M4A1 off his shoulder and checked it. No da
mage. Lucky break.

  Joe hit the comlink, "Colonel, we are under attack by massed Centurion forces. Will attempt to defend, but we need help, over!"

  Joe was unable to hear the Colonel's response. He laid Isabella down on the floor of the aircraft as gently as possible, then motioned for Rourke to follow him to the edge of the open Black Hawk side door. Their only option was to fight. The SEAL's sniper rifle had been lost during the crash so Rourke had unslung the XM25 grenade launcher. The weapon would be of critical help in dealing with covered opponents.

  Outside, Joe could see the group of Centurions beginning to surround the downed bird. They were already nicely entrenched behind pieces of debris from the damaged buildings littering the avenue. Leaning against the bent fuselage for cover, Joe returned fire.

  * * *

  HATFIELD BURNED bright in the evening sky. The thermal bolts from the Hyperion VTOLs had set fire to much of the city. The inhabitants at first had mounted a desperate defense against the attack, but it was futile. RPG's could not be aimed properly at the hovering monsters, that could easily bank out of the way of the slow-moving rockets. In turn, the Olympus aircraft fired charge after charge of blazing heat into the moving crowds below. The flow of humanity below them had had enough fight. They were fleeing now to either the south perimeter of the city, or into the upper class areas to the east and west.

  It was a glorious victory for the Heir of the Olympus PMC.

  The pilot of his Hyperion spoke over the comm, "Sir, we have reports of over thirty percent casualties. Should we disengage?"

  "Negative! Continue to lay down fire! I want this district in ruins!"

  "Sir−call coming in from Mistress Octavia."

  "Patch it through."

  The image of Octavia's face flashed up in Titus's view screen.

  "Titus, we have to disengage!" Octavia's voice was shaking with worry.

  "Are you insane! I can take this district right now!"

  "It's Prometheus! He's malfunctioning! I no longer have any control!"

  "What? Explain!"

  "He's going on a rampage! He is slaughtering everything in sight, including our men! We've lost communication with two Centurion detachments!"

  Titus cursed, "I thought you had him under control!"

  "The Code is overloading his neural pathways. I am completely cut off from him now!"

  "Why should I pull back? I'm finally winning this war!"

  "If you don't he will kill everyone, even you."

  "That's ridicu−"

  Beside Titus, one of the lead Hyperion's abruptly burst into flame, crashing down on the district below.

  "What the hell?" Titus swore, staring out the window. He could just make out the form of Prometheus, leaping around the battlefield−launching himself through the air towards the hovering aircraft of the very military that was supposedly controlling him.

  "All forces, report!" Titus shouted into the comm.

  Hyperion Omega answered first, "Sir, the weapon is out of control! We can't...aahhhh*"

  The Hyperion to the left of Titus began to spin wildly. The Olympus Tribune peered out of the cockpit, his mind barely believing what he saw. Prometheus's dark shape had flung himself onto the cockpit of the VTOL, leaping almost 100 feet into the air. The cyborg smashed a hand through the cockpit window and yanked the pilot out from his seat. Titus watched as the poor man was tossed from the aircraft to his death. With no pilot, the Hyperion hurtled down and crashed into the tin buildings of the populace below.

  "He thinks we're the enemy!" Titus slammed on the comlink, "All forces, disengage the attack immediately! Return to the Home Base now!"

  The remaining Hyperion pilots communicated affirmatives. Titus could feel his victory ebbing away from him. The leaders of the URAF would have all the time in the world now to move to the other safe districts. He would never have another chance like this.

  He slammed his arm against the side of the aircraft, leaving a large dent in the fuselage.

  I was so close!

  As the Hyperion turned back towards the north, Titus watched his victory slip from his fingers. He may have caused the defeat of Colonel Walsh's group of heroes, but in doing so he'd lost at least five Hyperions' and Prometheus.

  Olympus would not tolerate a failure of this magnitude. Not even from the son of the Imperator himself.

  * * *

  THE PAST half hour had been hell for Brick Reynolds and his motley band. After he'd lost communication with Joe and his retrieval team, the entire district had erupted into anarchy. With the entire escape plan scrubbed, Brick had moved Krieger, Sarah and Jacob immediately into the old school, to plan a possible escape route from Hatfield.

  Bowser barked loudly at the floating black VTOLs that hovered over the district, spreading their fires of death over the hapless rebel forces and their families. No one was spared. Women. Children.

  Olympus played no favorites.

  Jacob clutched his Kalashnikov angrily. "I must go out there! My people need me!"

  "What do you think you can do out there, guv?" Brick said, pulling the young rebel leader back inside the door. "Olympus somehow broke through the outer defense. Them wankers are going to reduce this place to ash."

  Krieger leaned out the door, watching the carnage outside. "We should help, should we not?"

  Sarah stuck tight against the wall of the school, behind Krieger. The reporter was obviously terrified, but kept her cool. She had been in warzones before, after all.

  The comlink in Brick's ear chimed.

  "This is Reynolds, go ahead."

  "Brick, Joe's been shot down. The bird landed somewhere near the middle of the downtown district, over."

  Brick's stomach twisted.

  Isabella.

  "Colonel, what is the team's status, over?"

  Walsh's voice seemed to hesitate before answering. "Joe and Cordova are both wounded. Cordova is unconscious, over."

  NO.

  "Do you want us to make for the crash, Colonel?" Brick said into the comm, his mind racing as he thought of Izy, wounded.

  "Negative Sergeant. You need to get Anders out of the city immediately. Make for the south perimeter. It'll be tough, but it's all we can do now."

  "With all due respect Colonel, we can't leave Joe and his team there to die, over!"

  "They knew the risks Sergeant. You have your orders."

  Jacob pulled Brick's arm. Brick clicked the comm, "Hold on Colonel."

  "I have three units of guerrillas in the downtown right now−" Jacob spoke quickly and clearly, "−they are led by one of my most trusted lieutenants. I can radio her to reach your people, if the flying machines don't reach them first."

  "Her?" Brick was surprised. In this country, women were treated like second class citizens. It spoke much of Muzenda's integrity for trusting a woman with command.

  "Yes, her name is Jade Masters. A former UN Peacekeeper who joined my father's fight over a year ago. If anyone can help your people, she can."

  Brick thought it through. In order to get to Joe, he would have to risk all of their lives pushing through the warzone that was Hatfield. Brick would have to rely on the young rebel leader's word for the time being. He cursed his luck, but accepted it.

  He keyed the comlink, "Okay, Colonel. We're coming out the long way, over."

  "Copy that Brick. I'm taking the Barbarian into overwatch above Sadoma to provide Joe's team with any intel or support I can. Just make it to the border. I'll inform the South African military to expect you."

  "Copy sir, out." Brick threw a hard glance at Jacob. "Alright. Do it−send your people." Brick looked at Krieger and Sarah, "We need to find a vehicle−get to the border and over into South Africa."

  Krieger grinned, "It is getting boring here, my friend!"

  Outside, the hail of fire from the Hyperions' had moved away from them. The streets were filled with smoking bodies, turned black from the energy bolts from the Olympus aircraft. Across the way, Brick spotted a park
ed technical. The pickup truck had a mounted Browning M2HB .50 Cal turret machinegun attached to the back. If it was still running, it would be their best chance of making it out of the city in one piece.

  Jacob was speaking into the radio attached to his vest. Brick motioned for everyone to prepare to follow him out the front and into the chaotic streets beyond. Jacob lowered the radio.

  "Masters is on her way to the crash."

  "Good. You coming with us?" Brick asked, checking his rifle.

  Jacob shook his head, "No, my friend. My people will need me more than ever. I must stay and lead."

  "This war is lost, mate."

  "The war will never be lost while my people still live, Mister Reynolds."

  Brick shook his head, a wry grin tugging his lips. "You've got moxie, guv. Give the wanker's what for!" He shook the young rebel leader's hand. "Try to get to the east district if you can. It looks like that's where your people are headed."

  "I will, Sergeant. Good luck!"

  Sarah moved towards Jacob, embracing him. "Please be careful!"

  Jacob held the reporter close. "Do not worry for me. You have your own mission now. Tell the world the truth, and all of this won't be for nothing."

  Sarah nodded, wiping the unheeded tears from her eyes.

  "Alright," Brick announced, "Everyone ready?"

  Krieger smiled wryly, "Always, tovarisch!"

  Sarah nodded. The reporter was doing her best to swallow her fear.

  "Alright," Brick said, hefting his own FN FAL, "Move!"

  The group rushed into the burning streets, keeping low to stay out of view from the hovering aircraft. Bowser padded after them, keeping close to his new family. As they approached the vehicle, Brick noticed something that brought him to a full stop.

  "What is wrong, my friend?" Krieger asked, following Brick's eyeline into the sky.

  "The Hyperions...they're buggin' out!"

  "Good!" Krieger said, hefting his M60E3. "Maybe we can get to border without being blown to hell, yah?"

  Brick had only moved three feet towards the technical, when something landed behind him with a head splitting *boom*. The impact was so hard, a ground tremor knocked Sarah off her feet, and spent Brick and Krieger sprawling. All three companions turned to see a man taller than anyone they'd ever known standing behind them. His body was swathed in a thick, obsidian power armor that seemed to glow with a bluish tinge. In his right hand was a blood-stained blade that Brick didn't recognize. Behind the transparent helmet, was a sight the tough as nails SAS soldier would remember until the day he died.