by S. T. Boston
* * *
Behind the wheel of the Juke, speeding away from London and heading toward the next nightmare, Oriyanna tried in vain to push the sight of her fallen colleagues to the back of her mind. Her long years had helped her grow stronger, almost detached from certain situations, but here, as good as alone in this car as it sped down a dark road, a single tear broke free of her right eye and streaked down her cheek.
Chapter 12
Benjamin Hawker had once worked for DARPA, the Defence Advanced Research Projects Agency. It was a US program, designed for researching projects which aided in the technological advancement of the country's military. Now, however, he found himself sitting at the main console on the bridge of a spacecraft named Arkus 2, named after the sun that feeds its warmth and light to Arkkadia. He rubbed his hazel eyes and returned his focus to the holographic screen in front of him. The plug-in he'd helped develop over the last two months was working, and currently worming its way through a back door into Kwangmyŏngsŏng, the North Korean nuclear launch and defence system, named after the failed satellite the country had attempted to launch back in 2012. The satellite's launch had been a smoke screen for the secretive nation, to test its first long range nuclear weapon, a ploy that hadn't been lost on the United States and other NATO countries. In the years following, and during the run up to the events which had seen his creators and masters fail in their attempts to wipe mankind off the Earth, the country had continued to develop its program, albeit behind closed doors and hidden from the suspicious eyes and prying satellites of the western world. Then in the year before President John Remy met his demise in a Malaysian hotel room, the secretive country had carried out another supposed test launch, only this time, there was no smoke and mirrors act. Kwangmyŏngsŏng 4 had carried with it a nuclear defence satellite, a long-range detection machine capable of spotting any threat from the point of launch and retaliating with the states' own small, yet lethal, stockpile. Much to the disgust of the western world and despite several urgent meetings held by the world's superpowers, the country had refused to halt its program, arguing that it had as much right to the deadly power as any other nation. Although on paper and as far as anyone was concerned, Benjamin Hawker was a patriotic American doing his bit for the country he loved, he agreed with North Korea, and relished watching the pathetic squabbling between those he hated and ultimately hoped to see destroyed. He held no allegiance to any country, only his own kind.
For the past two and a half years, Kwangmyŏngsŏng 4 had been dormant, keeping to a perpetual orbit around the planet among all the other bits of junk which had been fired into orbit over the years. As its parent program was readied for action once again, Ben found himself watching every step its programmers took, completely unknown to them. As well as Kwangmyŏngsŏng, his programming work of art – nicknamed Enola – monitored the US defence and launch systems, the Russian equivalent and those of the United Kingdom, as well as China and the other two NPT (Non-Proliferation of Nuclear Weapons Treaty), nations. North Korea wasn't party to this group, but they had the tools he needed to use. Once they all came online, he'd have more power at his fingertips than any Earth-Human had ever known. The thought sent a chill of excitement through his body. At his command, he could set every nuclear bird free from its nest and heading for a target of his choice.
Of course, this wasn't ideal. Obviously, the ideal scenario would have seen the Reaper do its job and kill over ninety-nine-point nine percent of the population, leaving Earth virtually wiped clean of Earth-Humans. Even the best laid plans sometimes failed, and so it had been with the Reaper. But this was no longer about preserving the Earth, now it was about wiping out a genetic mistake, one which never should have existed.
For two years, he'd been forced to live in the broken world that was left, living with Earth-Humans, and in the early days, often going hungry or needing to fight for food. Thankfully, his masters and creators hadn't forgotten him. Six months ago, just when he thought all hope was lost and they'd surely been destroyed and wiped from Sheol, he'd been contacted by Asag, one of the few Elders who escaped the war-torn planet. From him, Benjamin had learned that Asmodeous was alive. And not only alive, but on Earth. For the next two nights he'd been unable to sleep, excitement over what this might mean for him running through his head constantly. He'd waited patiently for his next instructions, laying low and only too aware that numerous of his kind had been located and killed, discovered by those who'd been responsible for the virus's failure. He'd finally received instructions and a ticket buying him passage to Ecuador, and from there he'd travelled by land for two days, meeting with Asag and his brother, Namtar in Lima, Peru. From Lima he'd been transported into the Peruvian desert where Arkus 2 had appeared before him like a shimmering mirage, temporarily de-cloaked in all her glory.
During his conditioning and education in Allentown, he'd seen pictures and images of the craft his superiors had at their disposal, but nothing could have prepared him for the real thing. The ship was colossal, almost a mile long and half as wide at the stern. The craft dwarfed him like a New York skyscraper, one laid on its side that is. Its shiny onyx-like black hull glinted in the sunlight, making it almost impossible to look at directly. The craft held the appearance of a massive triangle, only chopped off at the tip and resembling a strangely shaped, angular bullet. The top of the behemoth was gently rounded, just enough to stop it from seeming like a flat wedge, and the front, which was raised clear of the ground, hung out over the sweltering desert like a canopy. At the rear, Ben could see no propulsion system; the flawless surface ran toward the aft where it ended in a wall of shimmering black, looming some six hundred feet into the hot, unforgiving desert sky. In stunned wonder, Benjamin walked the length of the craft, sometimes, close to the rear of the ship, where the hull still met the ground, he enjoyed running his hand along the smooth, metallic surface, wishing he could connect with the spacecraft and see where she'd travelled in her long, long life. Standing where he assumed the bridge would be, the sun's relentless heat was blocked out, leaving him in a vast patch of shade. Craning his neck, Ben tried to study the bridge area, suspended a few hundred feet above his head.
For the past six months, Arkus 2 had been his home. Ben had spent hours wandering the craft's endless corridors and exploring her common rooms and quarters. In her day, Arkus 2 had been a long-range exploration vessel, designed to accommodate a crew of two thousand for an indefinite period. She had her own ecosystem, which in her operational days was capable of growing fresh plant life for food as well as sustaining a continual cycle of livestock. In essence, she was her own city, and a man could live out his life aboard her and never need to set foot on Earth, or any other planet. It was aboard this craft where Ben finally met his master, Asmodeous.
Ben had a thousand questions in his head during those first months, but he'd waited patiently for Asmodeous and the Elders who'd escaped the planet to divulge their plan, for he feared them just as much as he respected them. One evening in June, they'd gathered in one of the craft's massive auditoriums, and here what needed to be done was explained to them. Not every Earth-Breed had been selected – only a finite number who were integral to the plan had been chosen. Much to his excitement, Ben, a computer and defence system specialist had become an integral, no – a vital part of the plan. Working with him on the project was Michael Braun, an unassuming, almost geeky-looking Earth-Breed of German nationality, who had a flare for systems hacking. His thick-rimmed black glasses made him look like a young Woody Allen.
During the past five months, Ben had been hard at work, learning the advanced computer systems aboard Arkus 2. Although cutting-edge, they had one thing in common with Earth's computer systems – the language of mathematics. It was universal, and in no time, he could navigate the ship's system as easily as he'd worked with other systems in the past. From there, he'd developed the plug-ins which saw Arkus 2's computers become capable of working alongside Earth's. His first upgrade had made the ship compatible
with the internet; although nothing like the animal it used to be, the web was still a useful tool to have and ultimately, the key to getting into the defence systems he needed to breach. Alongside this task, he and Braun had been asked to look at just how his Earth-Breed brethren were being traced and killed.
Navigating the web and searching under the names of Adam Fisher and Samuel Becker they had soon found 'Watchers', the book penned by Adam Fisher. It detailed just how the Earth-Humans had helped Oriyanna and aided her in thwarting the virus. It was a book Asmodeous and the Elders had studied with interest. The book got them no closer to tracking down Fisher and Becker, although it led them to believe the pair lived in the United Kingdom, somewhere in London. Fisher had been careful not to reveal too much about their location, obviously aware that people might be looking for them.
He was right, and it took more digging to locate their details, but as the 'net became increasingly functional, more and more personal information became available once again. To a systems expert such as Hawker, it had been a synch to eventually locate Fisher and Becker and place a watch over them, while they waited for the final part of the plan to fall into place. They'd also discovered it was Sam Becker targeting the Earth-Breeds who remained in hiding. Asmodeous issued orders that neither Fisher nor Becker be touched – he'd suspected a bigger player was behind the targets identification and selection and he'd left it to play out, in the hope that they could snare the bigger fish simultaneously.
Many weeks went by with the team having no luck in figuring out just how Samuel Becker was selecting his targets, but then they'd reached a breakthrough. A program Ben developed which kept an eye on people poking around in the old business files of Integra Investments had found a search program running, one that reported every payment made from the company's still active accounts, as well as old ones made before the virus. Although the originator's IP address was being bounced around the web like a rubber ball, the systems on Arkus 2 had easily traced the culprit, her advanced computer systems making it easy work to get through even the toughest of firewalls, a benefit that would also come in handy for Enola. With technical stealth he'd poked around the host computer and planted his own little bug, one which reported everything back to him and automatically copied all the system's files to his, including every update and saved file. From a distance they'd watched, waited and monitored their folly, completely unseen and hidden. The bug had found the files about Mathis Laurett and his pending appointment with Sam Becker. It gave them a time, date and location when Becker would be alone, vulnerable and easy to grab. In turn, it cemented the date on which they'd take them all. Becker, Adam Fisher and his sister, Lucie, would all be snatched at once, much the same as they'd killed the four Watchers at the World Summit.
A small team who'd been sent to London to survey the location of the host IP address sent photo files back which filled Asmodeous with rage. Four Arkkadian Elders were on Earth, operating out of an intelligence-style cell in Greenwich, London, and among them was Oriyanna. Ben's master didn't want them taken alive, he wanted them dead, out of the equation for good. A strike team would hit them simultaneously with the capture of Becker, Fisher and his sister; that way, no one had a chance to warn anyone. Once the Earth-Humans arrived on board, they would watch as Asmodeous poisoned the world, reducing its cities to nuclear dust and leaving enough radiation in the air to kill every living thing on Earth. After that, Ben suspected his master would end them himself, dole out death on a more personal level.
Once these tasks were complete, Ben and the other Earth-Breed would be given passage on Arkus 2, the opportunity to spend a lifetime travelling deeper into the universe than anyone had ever been, searching for other rare jewels of life where they might settle. The prospect filled him with nervous excitement as he imagined what wonders he would witness.
“Benjamin!” the exotic and steely voice snatched him from his daydream. “Ben, do we have any news?”
A hand clamped down onto his shoulder, twisting him in his seat, and Asmodeous' amber eyes fixed his with an expectant anticipation. Hawker's bowels dropped and he immediately needed the toilet, but he respected his master in a fearful manner, only too aware of his power and authority. “Sir,” he began, clearing his throat. “From what I'm seeing, North Korea will be the first to the table, I'd say within the next twenty-four hours. The Americans are balls out trying to catch up, they have several bugs in the system preventing them from going live; same for the Russians.” Ben stuck his hand into the holographic display and swiped it left, then from the bottom he pulled up a second screen which displayed a hacked satellite feed. “The Americans have been monitoring the North Korean silo closely.” He pointed to a slightly grainy image, his finger disappearing into the picture. “They're reaching a state of readiness, sir.”
“Let me know as soon as their systems are live,” purred Asmodeous. He seemed to ooze confidence and physical presence in a way Ben had never seen in anyone else. He was dressed in Earth-Human attire, an expensive grey suit which bore a trouser crease so sharp, Ben suspected you might cut yourself on it. The black shirt beneath his matching blazer was secured to the top button and contrasted against his sandy blonde hair. “I think a little test of your abilities might be in order.” He smiled and stepped back from the terminal. “And who knows, it might just set things in motion a little sooner than we expected. While I long to push the button myself, I would take a certain sense of enjoyment out of seeing the maggots destroy themselves. Proof positive they should never have been entrusted to live on this planet.”
“Of course, sir.” Despite his nerves, Ben relished working this close to the action. He brushed an imaginary speck of dirt from his GAP hoody, then straightened out his 501s.
“Also, have someone see if we can get any news from the field,” Asmodeous continued. “I want to know as soon as we have everyone in custody and the four kills have been confirmed.”
* * *
The acrid smell of gun smoke and hot metal clung to the air like an invisible fog. Nicolai Peltz, enjoyed the aroma; it was the scent of battle and death. His black Magnum tactical boots crunched across the countless shards of broken glass which littered the lounge room carpet. Crouching down, he studied the bullet-ridden bodies of Bliegh and Rhesbon, saw the multitude of hits they'd taken. The two that counted were the ones the M40A1 sniper rifle had inflicted. The pair had sizable head wounds, the rounds penetrating deep into their skulls and ending their long lives in a blink of the eye. Fresh blood still leaked from the wounds, dripping into the thick carpet which soaked it up hungrily. Peltz kicked a lump of shattered plasterboard out of the way and adjusted the belt on his black combat trousers. With the tactical boots and combat trousers he wore a tight black tee-shirt, a tactical vest zipped over the top and he knew he looked mean and purposeful. On the vest he carried some of his favourite tools, including a Glock G26 9mm handgun. The semi-automatic weapon was one of his personal preferences; at a mere 19 ounces, it was as light as it was deadly. Accompanying the Glock was a M26C Taser with four cartridges, for those occasions when he might need to take a subject alive. “What's the situation upstairs?” he called out sternly. His Eastern European accent added to the air of authority, and he liked it.
“One body in bed upstairs,” the soft southern US drawl of Jim Croaker drifted down the stairs, another member of his little team and his second-in-command. His feet drummed rhythmically down the stairs, followed by the third member of the assault team, Drew Richards. Both men were of impressive stature, toned and not one of them under six feet tall, with close, buzzed haircuts. Their matching attire gave them the appearance of a private army, and in truth, that's exactly what they were.
“Looks like he took a right peppering,” Richards said, a morbid smile on his face. Proudly, he flicked his phone's screen to life and present Peltz with a gruesome picture. Blood splattered the length of Taulass' body, the bullets seemed to have hit him in the legs first and then worked in a wave up his body.
“Hard to tell,” said Croaker, a vein of uncertainty in his voice. “There was so much blood.”
“I'll check on him in a bit,” said Peltz. “We can't leave anything to chance.”
Peltz had been on the clean-up team sent to take out Xavier, and although not in charge of that team, he'd been party to the cluster-fuck. He would have staked his life on the fact the Arkkadian was hiding in the panic room, and as such, he'd used a large amount of plastic explosive to take care of the matter. For years, he'd believed they'd killed the Watcher in that house, but thanks to the account written by Adam Fisher, it seemed he and the crew he'd been with had failed. Fury had eaten at him for days after reading that Xavier escaped the property before they'd even destroyed it, and not only that, but he'd gone on and made it all the way to the Pyramid, playing a part in stopping the virus. Peltz was sure that once his master had seen this evidence, Peltz would be killed. Instead, he'd gotten a second chance, a chance he wasn't intending to throw away. “And the girl – Oriyanna?” His voice was heavy with expectation.
“No sign of her,” Croaker replied, his soft southern drawl wavering a little.
“Then, as it stands,” smouldered Peltz, “this mission is a fucking failure!” His usual stone-cold grey eyes smouldered with rage. “When morning comes and we make contact with the boss, what am I supposed to tell him?” His eyes worked methodically back and forth, flicking from one man to the next.