Olympus Rises (Book One of the Code of War) Read online

  Joe took a deep breath before issuing his orders, "Alright boys, we're still wide open out here so let's wrap this up. Make sure the area is well photographed and move back to the Humvees; we're movin' out."

  The men were relieved at that last part. As they went about their Sergeant's orders, Joe saw Danny motion for him to join them at the burned out home, "You'd better take a look at this Joe!"

  He hustled over. He immediately saw what the Afghani man had meant by 'something'. Lying amidst the rubble of the destroyed building was the remains of some sort of UAV or unmanned aerial vehicle. It was heavily damaged by the fire but was still recognizable. To Joe, it resembled a Sikorsky Cypher; an advanced aerial drone used for surveillance. Oddly, it was not the typical white color most aerial drones were painted, but a strange obsidian black that seemed to shimmer somehow.

  Joe looked at Danny, inquisitively, "What the hell is that?"

  "Some sort of UAV, I think." Danny reached in and tested the surface of the device. It was hot, but the Canadian's gloves were adequate to move the device for a better look. Danny asked Private Jensen to give him a quick hand. Together, the two men managed to haul the large machine up for a better inspection. The UAV was shaped like a pylon, with a circular engine built into the bottom which provided the lift through two opposing rotors. Danny noticed something on the inside of the pylon structure and squinted to get a better view.

  "What is it?" asked Joe.

  "Some sort of logo...very small. It looks like the letters..." Danny squinted harder, trying to read from the awkward position, "...O-P-M-C."

  "OPMC?" said Joe, "the hell is that?"

  Danny shrugged, "Never heard of it. PMC though...that could mean Private Military Company."

  Joe scowled. "Great. The last thing we need now is some ass-hat PMC making trouble along the border." Joe gave Corporal Jensen a command to photograph the UAV in detail, and then head back to the trucks. Joe stood back up and motioned Danny to follow him.

  As they passed the remains of the dead Afghani villager, Danny spoke quietly to Joe, "What do you think he meant about 'flew like birds'?"

  Joe shook his head, "Beats me. All I know is this is no way for anyone to die. This was our district and these people would have been under our protection if it wasn't for this damn withdrawal."

  A wry look spread across the Canadian's face, "It's not our fight anymore Joe. Command never really meant for us to find anything out here, you know that. Isn't this the Afghan military's problem now?"

  "Come on Corporal, you know as well as I do they wouldn't be able to deal with whatever did this. They'll just shunt it to the background and hope it goes away. "

  Danny sighed, "Ok then, what's your plan?"

  Joe sucked at his lower lip, a trait from childhood he'd never been able to give up. An idea suddenly hit him. He readied his M4 and jogged past Danny up towards the top of the hill the small village was perched on. Danny, thinking his boss had lost his mind, followed suit.

  "Joe, what are you doing? There might be snipers out here!"

  Disregarding his friend's warnings, Joe rushed up the remaining forty feet of the hill to stand at the top. Spread in front of them, to the north of the burning village, was the final wide expanse of the Northern Afghanistan steppe. Beyond it was the beginning of the Pamir mountain range. And from there...

  "Kazinistan..." said Joe, putting the pieces together.

  Danny reached the top of the hill to hear Joe say the word, "What are talking about?"

  "Let me tell you what I think happened here. I think the Kazinistanis have hired some sort of Private Army, maybe to protect its borders from Taliban infiltration or something, who knows? Remember those reports of Unidentified Aerial Objects? Well here they are," He jerked a thumb back towards the burned village, "these poor fools find one of their precious UAVs and take it back to the village. This 'OPMC', or whatever it is, rather than risk unwanted questions from the Afghanistan military, torches the village."

  Danny wasn't convinced, "OK Joe, let's say for a minute that's correct...why did they just leave the UAV here? And what PMC in the Middle East has access to napalm incendiaries?"

  Joe hadn't thought of that. "Well...OK, it's just a theory. We're not going to know more until we go and take a look." Joe started back down the hill towards the Humvee column.

  Danny suddenly realized what his friend meant, "Wait, Joe...take a look? What do you mean?"

  "I mean we check out the Kazinistani border. Maybe whoever did this is still around."

  Danny, always the cautious one, asked, "Why don't we just send the Predator to take a look?"

  Joe shook his head, "The Predator can't go within five miles of any country bordering Afghanistan. HQ would override control and we'd have hell to pay."

  "There's going to be hell-to-pay if we spark a border skirmish with another country over a hunch."

  Joe smiled, amused at his friend's reticence. It was a trait he admired in his Canadian comrade, but sometimes action was the name of the day, "Risk is part of the game Corporal Callbeck. We're Rangers and there ain't shit on this earth we cannot handle."

  Danny was about to say more, then thought better of it. Sighing, he fell in behind Joe as they picked up the pace towards the waiting Humvee column

  Chapter 2

  Storming the Desert

  Two Miles from the Kazinistani Border

  As the Humvee column approached the border of the neighboring country of Kazinistan, the endless steppe of Afghanistan began to give way to the mountainous crags of the red-brown Pamir Mountains. There was just enough of a dirt path for the Humvees to traverse to make the trip tolerable for the time being. Joe unhooked his binoculars and checked the fast approaching hills of Kazinistan. Nothing. Joe remembered a friend of his telling him the history of the legendary Pamir Mountain chain; how it had been traversed by Alexander the Great over two-thousand years ago in his quest to hunt down Darius, the defeated Persian king. It gave Joe goosebumps to be so close to a place so utterly steeped in historical antiquity.

  He glanced at Danny, who was focused on the road ahead. Joe noticed his left hand would sometimes move to his chest, presumably to remind himself of the charm he wore under his tunic.

  "What are you thinking Corporal?" asked Joe.

  Danny smiled grimly, and shook his head, "Nothing important Sergeant, just...a feeling."

  "Well knock it off with your 'feelings', they make me nervous."

  Danny hid a smile from the high-strung Ranger.

  Joe scanned the horizon again. Still no signs of any activity, human or otherwise. Well, it had been worth a shot. From the backseat, Private Gorman looked up from the Predator laptop, and said quizzically, "Sarge, there's something...." he trailed off, busy with the controls.

  "What's wrong Private?" asked Joe.

  "...I just lost the Predator feed!" the Private typed furiously at the laptop, even going as far to knock it with his hand.

  "What do you mean 'lost it'?"

  "It...it just cut out, Sarge! There's nothing coming through."

  Joe clicked the comm connected to his helmet, "Eagle Command, come in, this is Foxtrot Column, over."

  There was no answer. Joe repeated the phrase.

  Nothing.

  He looked inquisitively at Danny, who switched on his own comm, "Anyone reading on this frequency, come in, this is Foxtro..."

  In the blink of an eye, the Humvee directly behind Joe's vehicle erupted into a giant fireball, flipped through the air and landed with stunning force on its roof.

  The concussive power of the explosion was so strong, it blew out the bulletproof windows of the lead Humvee. Joe shielded his eyes, but several pieces of glasses scratched his cheek, opening a bloody wound.

  Private Gorman yelled out as the Predator suitcase flew from his hands, "Jesus Christ, what the hell was that?"

  Private Blackburn, holding a hand against a bloody shrapnel wound on his arm, yelled to Joe, "Was that an IED...Jesus,
was that an IED?"

  Danny reflexively hit the brakes. They had been traveling around thirty miles per hour, due to the rocky terrain, but the sudden stop shoved the men forward with alarming force. After the inertia caught up with them, Joe managed a quick breath before slapping the comm at his shoulder and barking out, "Fourth Squad Leader, was that an IED?"

  Corporal Jensen's voice came back, shouting over the comm. Whatever had affected the command communication was not affecting their local comlinks.

  "We've got men down Joe! We're in an ambush!" Jensen's voice was full of panic.

  Joe hit the comm to respond, "Lay down suppressing fire and find out what's out there!"

  A loud wooshing sound echoed above their Humvee. To Joe, it sounded like some sort of jet engine. The loud noise roared overhead and seemed to hold its position directly above them. Joe tried to look up through the busted windshield, but couldn't see anything.

  Suddenly a massive explosion rose from the rear column. Joe hit the comm, shouting "Corporal Jensen!"

  No response.

  "Corporal Jensen respond!"

  A plume of flame rose from where the tail Humvee had once been. Jensen and his squad were gone.

  Danny shouted to Joe, "They're boxing us in! Whatever's out there is picking us off one by one!"

  Adrenaline was charging through Joe's veins. He looked out the passenger window. They were currently in a shallow canyon of semi-steep hills. About one-hundred feet to the east, up the gentle slope, was a copse of trees; better protection than the weapon magnets they were sitting in.

  Joe hit the comlink and shouted, "All units, ditch the Humvees! Make your way up the east hill!" he opened the passenger door and got out, staying low, his weapon raised at the ready, "Stagger formation, don't give whatever's out there a clear target!"

  As Joe's boots hit the ground, a shape to the north caught his eye. A large aircraft was hovering over them, rotating around their position. The glare from the sun was making it difficult to discern the aircraft as anything more than a large, black glob in the sky.

  As Joe ran up to stand beside Danny, he placed a hand on the Inuit’s shoulder and pointed.

  "What the hell is that?" asked Joe. Danny was at a loss for words. Suddenly, the aircraft seemed to change shape and get larger...and louder.

  "Shit, it's coming back! Everybody run!" Joe pushed the Canadian commando ahead of him and they charged up the hill. The surviving Rangers leapt from their vehicles and made a mad dash up the knoll towards the temporary safety of the dense grove of trees. An ear-splitting crack split the sky as the aircraft fired again, this time sending forth a discharge of some sort of combustible fire that ignited the entire Humvee column in its wake. The cataclysm of flame and explosive force caught at least two of the Rangers, incinerating them in a rapid oxidation. The entire canyon pass they had been driving in only two minutes prior was now a blazing inferno.

  The shock of the concussion fire was enough to blast Joe off his feet, sending him face first into the rocky hillside. He could feel the intense heat ripping across his back. The Ranger helmet on his head was sent flying. He would later thank himself that he had neglected to fasten his brain bucket; else his head would have still been inside as it flew.

  Joe turned his head to see the inferno swallow up another of his Ranger brothers, scorching the hapless soldier as he tried to run. Joe squeezed his eyes shut, the rage of loss pummelling him relentlessly.

  It was so hot, he thought he must have been caught in the flames and that they were now encircling him; incinerating his body for his failure in leading his troops safely on a mission that should have been a cakewalk.

  Suddenly a hand grabbed Joe by the shoulder and turned him over onto his back.

  The hand belonged to Danny. His friend's face seemed from another world to Joe's addled mind.

  "Come on Joe! Get up!" Danny hoisted the Ranger roughly to his feet. He pushed Joe forward, towards the trees where the survivors of the platoon waited. Still out of sorts, Joe spun back to look at the Humvee column. The flames had risen and engulfed the entire canyon, melting everything in sight. The spectacle burned its way into Joe's soul. Turning back, he pushed himself up the hill where the survivors were regrouping under the copse of trees.

  Reaching the grove, Joe saw that a small triage had been set up by Corporal Tennyson, the platoon medic. At least five Rangers had been hurriedly laid out along the ground, covered with burns and shrapnel wounds.

  Danny peered out at the sky. The attacking aircraft was nowhere in sight.

  Private Gorman, his M-1 Carbine at the ready, looked at Joe, "Sarge, where'd it go?"

  Joe's head was still spinning from the fire put down upon them by that unholy machine flying above. He could barely stand, let alone think, "I...I 'm guessing it's bugging out for now."

  Gorman looked at Joe, anger gripping the young man, "What the hell was that Sarge? Why did it attack us?"

  Callbeck cast an angrier look at the Private from where he stood, "Does it look like he knows anything more than you, soldier?"

  "He's the one that led us through here! He should have expected something!" The Private dabbed at a bloody abrasion above his eye that drenched half his face in crimson red.

  Danny normally stoic exterior was becoming enraged, "Your Sergeant is not a mind reader 'Private' Gorman. Stifle the insubordination and concentrate on the problem at hand!"

  Joe snapped back to said reality. "This was my call Private," Joe, standing up to his full height, "I gave the order to come here and it's my job to get us out."

  Blackburn had settled behind Gorman, resting on one knee. His arm was slick with blood from the shrapnel wound he'd received in the Humvee. "Who the hell are these guys? Are they Taliban?"

  Joe shot an incredulous look to the Private, "Any Taliban you know have VTOL aircraft and incendiary weapons? Whoever these assholes are, we've pissed them off but good!" Joe went to switch on the comm but saw it was sparking, damaged from the force of the explosion, "Shit! Try the comm again, see if the reception's returned!"

  Bitterly, Gorman did as he was told. The private switched on his comm and hailed command. No response, "Dammit! Come in Firebase Foxtrot! Come in on all channels!"

  Static.

  Danny keyed his own mic.

  No response. Just dead air. The comms were still down.

  Joe shook his head. Not good.

  "Corporal," Joe said to Danny, "Do a head count and give me a sitrep."

  Danny counted up the remaining Rangers quickly. Of the forty Rangers in the initial platoon, only twenty-nine remained. Eleven men, thought Joe, You lost eleven men. There were three seriously wounded Rangers in triage and several others were suffering concussions from the explosion. They were looking at him to make the right call.

  But before he could do that, the whole situation went straight to hell.

  Callbeck yelled to Joe, "Sergeant, eyes up to the north. We have incoming!"

  The Rangers readied their weapons, preparing to finally take the fight to their ambushers. Joe knelt beside Danny, pulling out his binoculars to look at what his friend was pointing at.

  Coming towards them, very fast, were half a dozen soldiers dressed in heavy-looking armor, flying in the sky. Each soldier was strapped into what looked like a pair of wings, propelled forward by some sort of jetpack. In their arms were massive obsidian-black assault rifles Joe had never seen before. He dropped the binoculars and aimed his M4 carbine, using the trunk of a tree as cover.

  "What in the name of Christ are those?" he asked to no one in particular.

  Danny put his C-7 assault rifle to eye level, and said cryptically, "Demons that fly like birds..."

  The other Rangers readied their weapons as well, awaiting the order to fire from their Sergeant.

  "Easy guys. Let them get a bit closer. Easy..." Joe tried to assess the distance between the troopers and his men for an optimum firing range.

  The Rangers prepared for action. Joe
glanced briefly at Danny, who looked back - an icy look in his eyes. Joe nodded to his friend. Time for payback. As soon as it looked like the troopers were within several hundred feet, Joe yelled out his simple command:

  "Open fire!"

  The Rangers opened up with their weapons, gunfire exploding from the trees towards the invading force. Through the scope of his rifle, Joe could see his bullets finding their marks. Several flashes of metal ricocheted off the armor the flying soldiers were wearing but did not seem to harm them. What the hell were they wearing?

  "Keep up the fire!" yelled Joe over the din of gunfire.

  The Rangers discharged their carbines and assault rifles. Many hit their marks but did little to no damage. Danny squinted through the sight of his C-7 rifle scope, sucked in his breath and squeezed. The bullet rang out and hit one of the flying soldiers in the visor of his helmet. The trooper's weapon dropped from his hands as his body went limp. Without its operator, the jetpack began an unruly dance of insanity through the sky, propelling the man through the air like a champagne cork. Finally, the direction of the jetpack brought the soldier into the flat surface of the northern hills and exploded in a massive blue-orange plume of fire; incinerating the body of the hapless trooper.

  The Rangers gave a quick cheer. Joe smiled broadly, "That's how you do it!"

  Danny kept up the fire, simultaneously yelling, "Aim for the helmet, they're weak in the eyes!"

  The Ranger's moment of success was short lived. The jetpack troopers were now close enough to use their own weapons. Leveling them, they let loose a massive barrage of concussive gunfire that wracked the tree line, ripping apart the foliage with shocking force. Explosions detonated all around the Rangers, obscuring their line of sight. Behind Joe, a blast of gunfire smelted two more Privates, dissolving their bodies like wax figures.

  Joe realized what the flying troopers were planning. All they had to do was fly above the copse of trees, where visibility was almost nil for the Rangers, and rain down fire upon them until everyone was dead - or they gave up.

  That'd be the goddamn day.

  Joe knew they were rapidly running out of options. He judged the distance from their current position to the edge of the northern mountains as being around two-hundred meters; an eternity to run under fire towards. There was no other cover anywhere behind or beside them; the north was the only choice. They would stand a better chance of defending if they were in the lowland crags of the Pamir Mountains then they would clustered here ready to be picked off one by one. He decided to run it by Danny.