The Vagabonds (The Code of War Book 4) Read online

  Rourke didn’t reply; his eyes were vacant of emotion.

  The Centurions pushed Joe along across the hanger bay. His mind had been constantly searching for a way out since arriving, but where could he go? For the moment, he allowed himself to be prodded on. Joe resolved to stay alive as long as possible. He would learn everything he could about this ship and in the event his luck changed, he would try to somehow contact the Peacemakers. The more probable endgame would be his death, but Joe wasn’t prepared to surrender to defeat just yet.

  * * *

  LOWERING HER head through the landing gear hatch, Orchid glanced around, taking in all the details of her new surroundings. She was in some sort of hanger bay that was curiously open to the hazy morning light outside. The area was crawling with Olympus personnel. Utility vehicles buzzed here and there, transferring equipment to the landed Hyperion aircraft parked around the bay. Reactivating the Whisper shroud, Orchid slipped down from the wheel well to the shadowed underbelly of the tiltrotor aircraft.

  She heard voices toward the rear of the aircraft. Looking around, she spotted Joe being taken away by a group of Centurions. Then, she sighted Rourke. He was talking with a white-haired Olympus Tribune, decked out in heavy combat armor. Beside him was the woman Orchid had sworn to kill.

  Agrippina.

  You just hold on, traitor. Your time is coming.

  A klaxon sounded. A moment later, a trio of Hyperion gunships landed in the hanger bay, across from her. Holding back for a moment, Orchid watched as the side-doors of the VTOLs opened. A large group of Praetorians filed out, followed by an Olympus bigwig—a man whose face was covered by an obsidian death mask.

  In his hand was a familiar looking Zero Halliburton case.

  The Code.

  Orchid’s heart leapt. At least she knew where it was and could plan to somehow retrieve it.

  The masked man was followed by a female prisoner, being led by an astoundingly beautiful blonde woman.

  Orchid recognized the prisoner at once.

  Jade!

  Rourke and his white-haired companion met with the new arrivals. After speaking for a few seconds, the masked bigwig passed the Halliburton case to the old man with the eye-patch. Together, he and Rourke left the tarmac, disappearing from Orchid’s view.

  Whatever was transpiring, Orchid realized she couldn’t stay hidden here for long. Waiting for an opportune time, she saw a technician driving past in a utility transport vehicle, much like what was found in airports. It pulled along a series of trailers, each loaded with shipping crates. It passed a mere dozen feet from where Orchid knelt.

  Not seeing a better opportunity, the stealth Peacemaker dashed away from the safety of the aircraft underbelly and into the light—leaping onto one of the trailers. Shoving herself between several of the hard plastic boxes, Orchid prayed she remained unnoticed—at least until she made it out of the open.

  Much of the Olympus personnel were far too busy to give the truck a second glance. As she clung to the trailer, a voice came over an intercom.

  “All Titan crew, prepare for submersion, repeat, all Titan crew, prepare for submersion.”

  Submersion?

  Before Orchid could wonder what that meant, she heard a loud grinding noise above her. The open-air bay began to close, like a baseball stadium receding in a rainstorm.

  Where the hell am I?

  When the roof had fully closed, she felt a sudden jerk, as if the ground beneath them had begun to sink. An incredulous thought entered her mind.

  A submarine. I’m on a submarine!

  As the realization sank in Orchid knew she had to contact Brick and the Peacemakers. But first, she needed to get somewhere safe.

  The utility truck left the main hanger and headed into an adjoining bay with a label reading MECHANICAL WING on the archway leading in. The lighting here was darker, intermittently lit mostly by stark fluorescents. The bay itself was loaded with repair equipment, as well as a partially deconstructed Hyperion. Techs moved about the gunship performing repairs, oblivious to the utility vehicle as it parked nearby. From her hiding place, Orchid searched for a way out of the room. Peeking out the other side of the trailer, she noticed a square hatch on the floor about ten paces away. A sign on the wall, with an arrow pointing down toward it, read LEVEL B1 MAINTAINENCE HATCH—EMERGENCY ONLY.

  With no other real option, Orchid crept off the trailer and moved as stealthily as she could toward the hatch. She checked that the coast was clear, then lifted the handle. The hatch gave way easily, opening to a ladder leading down. As quietly as possible, Orchid climbed in and shut the hatch after her.

  * * *

  TIBERIUS, LEGATE of the Olympus PMC, looked up from his computer console as the doors to the lab room opened wide. He’d turned the space’s lighting off, preferring to meet his visitor in a more fitting ambiance. The woman who he’d raised since a she was a little girl entered the lab, followed by two Centurion guardsman.

  “Well, my lovely macellarius has returned,” Tiberius said, standing up. “Welcome back, Agrippina.”

  He gestured for the Centurions to leave. They turned and walked out, leaving the Legatus and Agrippina alone.

  The woman with the alabaster skin looked around the room, “A bit dark in here, isn’t it?”

  Tiberius shrugged, “Conserving power. Besides, my work is finished, for now.” He walked slowly across the room, taking his time. “I heard you’ve brought me a gift.”

  Agrippina nodded, “Joseph Braddock, son of Leo Lennox.”

  Tiberius smiled, his wolf-gray eyes glowing in the ambient lighting, “Yes, I heard. I must admit, I doubted we would ever catch that man, what with Titus doing everything in his power to try and kill him, despite the Imperator’s orders to the contrary.”

  “What do you want with him anyway?” Agrippina asked, her eyes never leaving the Legate.

  Tiberius seemed surprised at the question, “You mean Lennox never told you?”

  “Told me what?”

  Tiberius chuckled in the darkness, “Why Braddock was so important?”

  Agrippina shook her head, “No. Why would he? He barely trusted me at all.”

  “Ah yes, trust,” Tiberius let the word hang in the air, “What happens to Braddock is only the first step in the ascension of Olympus toward a New World Order.”

  Agrippina snorted, “You always had a flare for the dramatic.”

  Smiling, Tiberius watched her walk in the moody lighting, admiring her catlike grace. She was so different now than compared to when he’d found her years ago. He’d never imagined she would grow to such a magnificent specimen.

  Agrippina slid a hand along one of the computer terminals, asking, “What have you been doing here?”

  “Oh, a simple science experiment I’ve been working on with Cicero. Nothing that needs concern you.”

  “Where is Danny Callbeck?”

  Tiberius smirked, “Ah, yes, the man of the hour.”

  “Is he alive?”

  “In a manner of speaking.”

  “Where is he?” Agrippina asked.

  Tiberius halted within six steps from the Olympus assassin, “First tell me why you came back.”

  “I wish to return...to Olympus.”

  “I see. That’s why you brought me Braddock, correct?”

  “Yes. It’s my payment for your trust once more.” Agrippina’s voice was soft, like a breeze in winter.

  “My trust. Of course,” Tiberius said, “You know it’s something I do not give to just anyone.”

  “You betrayed me, that day in the Ukraine,” Agrippina retorted angrily.

  “Yes,” Tiberius admitted, “Regrettable, but your actions necessitated it.”

  Agrippina’s red and green eyes gleamed in the dark, “I only ever wanted your respect.”

  “And you thought the best way to attain it was to join our mutual enemy?”

  They were now face to face. As he stood towering over Agrippina, Tiberius could see the assassin
shrivel in his formidable presence.

  You are still mine, girl. You always will be.

  The words were spoken with his cold, emotionless eyes. Agrippina understood him well.

  “I’ve been lost this past year,” Agrippina said, averting her eyes, “I didn’t know where else to go. Lennox thought that he could make me loyal to him. But he was wrong.”

  “Of course he was,” Tiberius said, reaching out to touch her perfect alabaster skin, “He was wrong because I am the reason you still have a purpose in this life. Only I say when you have permission to live or die.”

  “Yes...” Agrippina closed her eyes as his hand pressed against her warm skin.

  He saw the attack come almost a moment too late.

  The flash of steel from her hidden wrist sheath brought out a razor sharp knife. Agrippina shrieked as she thrust the blade at the Legate. He dodged to the side, avoiding the initial attack.

  But Agrippina wasn’t finished. She threw her arm back, ready to slash at him again.

  Only this time, she was stopped.

  A hand in the darkness lashed out and clasped her around the wrist. Surprised by the attack, Agrippina twisted around to meet her new enemy, eyes blazing in hate...

  ...only to be met with a man with no eyes.

  Tiberius dusted off his combat armor then stood back, “Let me introduce an old friend I think you’ll remember...”

  From the darkness, the thing stepped forward. Any remaining color drained from Agrippina’s face at the sight before her.

  “Danny...” she murmured.

  The man’s face was indeed Danny Callbeck—she recognized the high cheekbones, the crow-black hair. His sightless eyes were covered with a strange pair of mirrored glasses. His face showed not a shred of emotion. Below his still human face, Danny was encased in an incredible suit of iridescent power armor.

  Tiberius spoke, “Yes, ‘Danny’, though now you shall find he answers to a new name: Orion.”

  The door to the lab opened as a team of Centurions entered the room. They clustered around the woman as Orion released his grip. Rubbing her wrist, Agrippina looked at Tiberius and asked, “What did you do to him?”

  “We saved his life,” Tiberius said, simply, “Without us, this man would have died. We decided Danny Callbeck would make a perfect subject to house the next phase of our Prometheus project—a project that would complete the link between man and the Stream.”

  “Callbeck!” Agrippina shouted to the mute soldier standing beside Tiberius, “Danny, it’s me! Snap out of this!”

  Tiberius shook his head, his mouth a cruel grin, “I’m afraid he can’t hear you. He is my perfect human drone now—a hunter capable of destroying any prey we set him upon.”

  “What should we do with her, sir?” the lead Centurion asked.

  “Take her to the brig. I need time to think of a suitable execution method of this traitor.”

  Agrippina snarled, “You can’t do this! I want to see the Imperator. Take me to him!”

  Tiberius raised an eyebrow, “Didn’t you hear? With the completion of Orion, the Imperator has given me his patronage for succession. In all but name only, I am the Imperator now.”

  Agrippina’s alabaster skin grew even whiter.

  Tiberius nodded to the Centurions. “Get her out of here.”

  As Agrippina was led away she screamed Callbeck’s name several times. The lab door closed, drowning her wails out. Tiberius turned as Cicero, the Elder Architectus entered the room from a side door.

  Looking at the aged scientist, Tiberius sighed, “Not the reunion I had in mind.”

  Cicero moved over to stand by Orion. “You are certain you wish to test Orion so soon? If something were to go wrong when we activate the Stream A.I.—”

  “Nothing shall go wrong,” Tiberius interrupted the old man’s warning, “Everything has fallen into place perfectly.”

  The sense of victory was sublime—a faultless moment to be savored. While the obtaining of the second Code of War disc was an impressive feat, it was not enough to offset Titus’s failure in losing Sledge’s drone army, not to mention the massive backlash the American government would certainly have to an unprovoked attack on their soil.

  Tiberius smiled in the darkness.

  The young fool was finished, and he didn’t even realize it.

  * * *

  BEING LED through the hallways of the Titan was like a walk forward in time. Joe Braddock couldn’t imagine how such a craft was possible. The ship’s interior had a stark neo-industrial feel to its architecture—with neon track lights providing the dark halls with an eerie ambiance. The half dozen heavily armed Olympus Centurions marched him along at a brisk pace. Reaching an elevator, he saw the lead trooper press the button for DECK A1—BRIDGE.

  He briefly toyed with the idea of making an attempt at escape, but with his arms behind his back and totally outnumbered, he thought better of it. Besides, it wasn’t every day a man visits a colossal stealth submarine.

  Bide your time. Gather intel. Learn your surroundings.

  A brief ride later, the sliding doors opened to reveal a marvel of Olympus engineering.

  The bridge of the Titan spread out before Joe—a spectacular array of technology the likes of which he’d never seen, even on the most advanced American vessels. The room bustled with technicians, busy working at gestural interface terminals.

  The magnificence of the Bridge quickly wore off on Joe, as his eye settled on a figure standing at the center of the room, flanked by two Praetorian guardsmen. Upon hearing Joe’s party enter, the man turned around, leaning heavily on a cane. He was old—well into his late seventies. His body was hunched and decrepit, with a face of leathery skin that sent a pang of revulsion through Braddock’s gut. The man’s eyes gleamed with a malevolent intelligence.

  Something told Joe this was the man all things revolved around.

  “Ah, finally,” said his aged host. The man’s voice sounded like an inhuman echo lost in time, “The son of Leo Lennox. Joe Braddock—welcome to the Titan.”

  “I’d shake hands but…you know…”

  The man studied Joe with his intense gaze. “I must say, seeing you in person is something of a...letdown. Not quite what I expected of the man who bested Brutus.”

  Joe thought about correcting the old man. After all, it had really been Sandor Delacroix—the rebel Centurion—who’d succeeded in killing the Olympus super soldier. Joe left it alone.

  The leathery man spoke, his voice filling the entire bridge, “I’m certain you must know who I am.”

  “Emperor Palpatine?”

  The man chuckled, “Funny. I am Imperator Augustus, head of the Olympia Brotherhood and Consul of the Olympus PMC.”

  “What’s with all the archaic vocabulary?” Joe asked.

  “I’m sure you’ve noticed by now this company keeps traditional values dating back well over a thousand years,” the Imperator wheezed. He made his way toward Joe, closely followed by his retinue, “Traditions are important to us. They maintain a way of life long forgotten by the rest of the world. We may have adapted modern technology—surpassed it even—but the old ways still remain.”

  “I hope you don’t mind me saying this, but can we cut the shit?” Joe said, taking a big chance, “Agrippina didn’t bring me to you if I wasn’t somehow useful. What is it you want from me?”

  “A man of direct action,” the Imperator said, his cracked mouth smiling, “Admirable. I’m sure Lennox has informed you that you are a descendant of Honorius Marcellus, founder of the Olympia Brotherhood. Your bloodline, and that of your Father are all that is left of that lineage.”

  Joe stayed silent. He wanted the old man to tell him as much as possible before push came to shove.

  The Imperator went on, “Your father helped me design the Stream Viral A.I. from the data collected within the Code of War disc. When that traitor disappeared a year ago, he input a failsafe within the Stream’s infrastructure to halt the Viral A.I. from launch
ing, even if we found the second disc.”

  “What is the failsafe?” Joe asked curiously.

  A cracked smile broke across the old man’s face. “You haven’t figured it out? It’s you of course.”

  “Me?”

  “Yes. Or more appropriately, your bloodline. The failsafe requires the bloodline of Honorius to activate the Viral A.I. We had thought Lennox to be the only living descendent, ergo he was the only one capable of activating the Code of War. Tracking that man down was proving all but impossible. But, in one of life’s little twists of fate, we found out that Lennox had a son—you.”

  Joe was confused, “How did you find out? Agrippina?”

  The Imperator let out a violent cough.

  “No,” he said when the fit had passed, “Our lovely assassin was only serving herself bringing you here. And even though Lennox may have told her the truth of your lineage, he would never have trusted her with the knowledge that you were the key to the failsafe. We found out after your trip to Syria. You left more than your share of blood back in that country. A simple DNA exam told us all we needed.”

  “So why do you need me? If you have my DNA—”

  “The failsafe needs far more than that. It requires not only a significant sampling of blood from the ancestor but also biometric proof that he is not acting under coercion. The ancestor’s heart rate, cortisol, and glucose levels are measured to be certain the activation of the A.I. is solely by his will alone. Think of it as an advanced lie detector test.”

  Joe let out a long breath. Much of what he was told made sense. But he couldn’t understand why his father hadn’t told him the full truth.

  Wanting to learn all he could while the old bastard was in a talkative mood, Joe asked, “Why? What do you hope to do with all of this?”

  The Imperator, like a decrepit bat, moved in front of Braddock, “It is all about control, Joe. The world is on the brink, as it has been this past century, and shall one day rend itself asunder. As our ancestors wished, the Olympia Brotherhood’s purpose was to guide the world back to an era of complete control. Just as the great Suetonius Agrippa wanted, Olympia will use the information parsed from the Viral A.I. to induce our will across the world. We will play nations against each other like a chess game. We will raise the Fog of War and shape the future of warfare itself.”