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  The Praefectus nodded. “Yes, my lord. What about them?”

  Saladin considered the question for a moment. “Restrain them. Let them witness Olympus’s retribution for their destroying the Code of War. The Hammer will take care of them both.”

  The Praefectus seemed unhappy at not being able to personally execute his enemies. Holstering his gun, he removed the computer tablet and made a quick adjustment. “Yes, lord Saladin. Activating the Hammer now. ETA to destination, sixty seconds.”

  “Good,” said Saladin, “Order the men to fall back. I must bid you a fond farewell, Peacemaker. Rest assured that even without your help, we will find Braddock.”

  “I hope he eats your heart, shitball,” Krieger muttered as Saladin left.

  The Olympus troops, their jobs done, kept their weapons raised upon the villagers as they retreated towards the vehicle column. Krieger watched as Saladin disappeared inside one of the Hummers and proceeded away from the village towards the west. He noted that they left the Hummer he and Graves had arrived in sitting off to the side of the road.

  The villagers, too afraid to do anything but huddle together, made no attempts to move.

  The Praetorians behind Krieger and Graves quickly bound their hands behind their backs before shoving them hard to the ground. Finished, they bolted to the remaining Hummers. Craning his head around, Krieger watched the Olympus soldiers start their vehicles and head away along the road to the east.

  The last to leave, the Praefectus spoke through his helmet, his voice sounding like grinding glass through the modulator. “Enjoy the show, my friends. I promise it will be quite the bash.” With that, he turned and joined the last remaining Centurions in fleeing the area.

  Graves writhed on the ground, trying to break the plastic zip-ties the guards had used. Having no luck, he said, “Well, if you have a plan, Alexei, I’d love to hear it.”

  Krieger growled, “I’m going to kill that Praefectus asshole, I swear to god.”

  “Come on, focus! What are we going to do?”

  Before Krieger could respond, he spotted in the distance toward the east around a dozen Vagabond Fenrir aircraft soaring low across the Sudan jungle. The light ducted-fan VTOLS skimmed along at a brisk clip towards the village. Ahead of the two men, the Sudanese people were rushing away, either into their homes or the safety of the trees beyond. Whatever Olympus was planning with this Hammer of Mars, they seemed to be betting on those Vagabond crafts to come to the aid of their rebel friends.

  It was then both men became aware of something above them—something rocketing down to the earth at an extraordinary speed. Kreiger raised his eyes and had a fraction of a second to see a massive object impact into the ground just beyond the eastern edge of the village. The impact sent a shockwave through the area, blasting homes off their thin foundations and trees from their roots. Villagers were sent flying in all directions, many caught in the initial impact and incinerated by a blast of flaming energy and debris. Krieger and Graves were lifted by the shockwave into the air and thrown back several yards.

  For a moment, the world went back for Krieger.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  TIME HAD lost all meaning for the big Russian. His ears echoed like someone had smashed them with a sledgehammer. Shaking off the dizziness, he pulled himself awkward onto his knees, looking over at where the explosion had impacted. Many of the structures in the village were gone, turned to debris strewn across the area. There were intermittent groans from the villagers who survived as they attempted to make sense of what hit them.

  It was at that moment, Krieger saw what it was that had fallen from the sky.

  A large metallic object, about thirty feet high and shaped like a giant wedge sat burrowed into the ground beyond the edge of the village. Smoke wafted from its surface as it started to cool, leaving an odd luminescent sheen on its dark exterior.

  Looking past the strange object, Krieger spotted the wing of Fenrirs approaching, undeterred. The light ducted-fan aircraft zipped along at a solid clip toward the village.

  Beside Krieger, Graves groaned as he came to. Both men’s hands were still fastened behind their backs. The big Russian thrust his arms under his legs and brought them up in front of him. With a hard jerk, he managed to break the plastic zip ties.

  He leaned over to help Graves onto his knees. “Come on, get up! Whatever is happening isn’t finished yet!”

  Just as he said that, a loud grinding noise emanated from the object. Some villagers, rather than running, simply stared at the device, wondering what it was. Then, abruptly, the object broke apart. The steel structure slid back, revealing inside what looked to be a collection of racking. From the network of racks, dozens, then what seemed like hundreds of small objects broke away and flocked into the air. The objects swooped out around the village like migrating birds.

  Krieger recognized them immediately.

  Drones.

  Each one of them about the size of a large bird, they moved with dizzying speed, synchronized into a massive swarm.

  A feeling of dread washed over Krieger. Grasping Graves by the collar he pulled him to his feet. “Get up, we have to go!”

  “What the hell are those things?”

  “What do you think? Drones!” Krieger pulled Graves along as he made a run towards the edge of the village, where a long brace of trees marked the beginning of the wilderness beyond. The villagers, terrified at the sight of the machines swooping through the air like flies, began running in all directions in sheer panic.

  And it was at that moment when everything really went to hell.

  The drones began firing on the people with what looked to Krieger like pulse weapons, similar to those Olympus utilized on their Hyperion aircraft. The blasts ripped across the village like meteors, tearing through earth and flesh with machine-like precision. Villagers died by the dozens. Krieger saw one mother attempt to shield her child, only to be caught in a blast that incinerated both of them into burning meat. A ways off, an old man was caught by a pulse beam and reduced to a grisly collection of smoking limbs.

  As the half-dozen Fenrir aircraft swooped into the area, a large segment of the drone swarm changed directions and headed towards the incoming threat. Seeing the swarm, the Vagabond pilots banked their aircraft, probably to allow the wing gunners better firing lines against this new threat.

  It did little good.

  The drones swarmed into the sky like locusts, opening up with their pulse weapons. Three Fenrirs were immediately caught by the blasts—erupting into fireballs as they fell to earth.

  The entire scene was utter chaos.

  Beside Krieger, Graves stumbled on the uneven terrain of the destroyed village. Helping him up, Krieger had to duck as a pulse blast destroyed the hut nearest him—sending a rain of fiery debris into the air. Smoke spewed across the area, making it difficult to witness the battle between the Vagabond Fenrirs and the drone swarm. Through the clouds, Krieger saw the drones tag another VTOL, sending it crashing to earth in a messy explosion. Bodies strew the area, blasted apart, or contorted into gruesome shapes burned beyond identification.

  Amidst the hell of war, Krieger’s scattershot mind focused.

  Through the fire and smoke, he spotted the tree line, a good hundred feet away. If they could get there, perhaps the drones would have a harder time maneuvering among the foliage. The drones were consuming the entire area in a reign of pulse fire. In another few seconds, Krieger knew he would be tagged and eliminated as well.

  “Get to the trees! Go!” he said, pushing Graves along. The gun-runner ran with everything he had, trying not to lose his footing amidst the mayhem.

  Above them, a Fenrir roared across the sky as its doorway gunner attempted to engage the drone swarm with his side-mounted minigun. Several drones were caught in the ensuing barrage and destroyed, but there were hundreds more to take their place, each one capable of raining relentless pulse fire. It was only a few seconds later that the drones spat multiple waves of pulse ene
rgy into the fuselage of the aircraft, blowing it out of the sky.

  Krieger and Graves had almost made it to the edge of the jungle when that Fenrir came crashing down behind them. It missed by a good twenty feet, but the thunderous discharge of energy threw both men forward as they entered the jungle, knocking them into the brush. Chunks of burning fuselage and jet fuel rained across the area. Krieger felt his back suddenly get very warm. Looking behind him, he saw he’d caught fire. Without panicking, he ripped off the Centurion armor as fast as he could—dropping the remains into the ground to burn. Bare-chested now, he had nothing else on save for his armored leggings.

  Hearing a groan beside him, Krieger checked on Graves. The man had several cuts along his face and there was blood leaking from his left ear.

  “Now is not time for nap, my friend! Keep moving!” shouted Krieger as he helped Graves up.

  The gun-runner placed a hand to his head. “I…I can’t fucking hear anything—”

  “You don’t need to hear, you need to run!”

  Behind them, Krieger noticed several drones break through the smoke and swoop towards them.

  “Oh shit,” the Russian muttered as he broke into a run. “Split up, make it hard for them to target us!”

  Graves’ battle senses seemed to return and he followed Krieger’s plan, splitting away from the Peacemaker. Krieger eventually lost sight of him as he ducked and dodged through the wild undergrowth of the jungle floor.

  Behind him, he heard the screeching sound of a drone zeroing in on him. Looking back, he barely had time to dodge as the machine spat a pulse blast in his direction. It impacted against a tree beside him, scorching it from its roots. Knowing he probably wouldn’t be lucky a second time, Krieger forced himself to run faster. He noticed the ground below him start to incline. Ahead, the wilderness broke away into an escarpment that led down to a small brook—probably the village’s water source.

  It’s now or never.

  Krieger leaped hard over the escarpment, thrusting his body into the air. He flew down the hill just as the drone let off another pulse blast. The ridge behind him burst into flame, scattering dirt and napalm across the area. He felt fiery bits of debris tear into the skin on his back. Gritting his teeth in pain, Krieger landed hard against the hillside and proceeded to tumble down towards the jungle floor. The heavy rain had churned up the ground near the brook into a muddy swamp. Splashing into the mire, Krieger felt the cold mud envelop him. He managed to half-run, half crawl to a collection of brush, where he laid flat against the ground, playing dead.

  He waited, scarcely risking to breathe, keeping an eye out to see if the drone had followed him over the ridge. A moment later, he saw it—floating above the jungle. It was only the size of a small dog, with twin swivel rotors powered by an unknown propulsion system. It seemed so small and harmless away from the swarm, but the pulse cannon mounted beneath it was capable of more than enough damage on its own.

  The drone seemed to be making a quick sweep of the area. Krieger held still, sinking as much as he could into the muddy earth.

  Satisfied, the drone swung around and zipped up into the sky and out of sight.

  Letting out a breath of relief, Krieger pulled himself out of the mud. Inspecting his body, he was relieved he’d only received a few burns on his back and a handful of abrasions on his arms. Collecting his crop of muddy hair behind his head, he stepped out into the open jungle, looking around. Knowing he had to find Graves, he moved over to the brook and quickly attempted to wash some of the dirt off. It occurred to him that however those drones picked their targets, they weren’t able to spot him drenched in the cold mud. He decided to keep some of the mud on him, in case another drone came back to finish the job of its buddy.

  He made a quick check of any equipment he had on him. Besides the small combat knife he’d stashed in his belt that his Olympus captors had failed to remove, he had no weapons or useful gear.

  Sighing, he got up and looked around. The sound of the devastation from the village several hundred feet back had ceased. Whatever the drones were doing now, they were nowhere in sight. Moving carefully back into the brush, Krieger kept his eyes out for his old friend.

  Climbing up the other side of the escarpment, Krieger grasped at several heavy vines in an attempt to pull himself through the dense foliage. Getting to the top, he moved through thick scores of shrubs and branches as he searched for Graves.

  Suddenly, he felt two strong arms wrap around his neck. He thrust a hand up to pull them away, but the grip was too tight.

  “I was always good at sneaking up on you, wasn’t I, Alexei?”

  Graves.

  The grip didn’t loosen. Before Krieger could try and speak, Graves’ voice hissed in his ear. “I should fucking kill you right here! We could’a been fried back there, all because of this goddamn friend of yours.”

  “You’re still alive, aren’t you?” Krieger managed to gasp.

  “Yeah, and for how long? Give me one good reason I don’t kill you right now, you amazing asshole.”

  “I’ll give you two,” Krieger managed to croak, motioning with his head for Graves to look down. Following his gaze, the gun-runner saw that the Peacemaker held his combat knife perfectly positioned against the tenderness of his crotch. Krieger tried to smile beneath Graves’ grip, “How about I remove your two friends there and then see how you feel about things?”

  “Bastard,” Graves said, letting him go.

  Krieger rubbed his throat. “Nice to see you’re okay too, tovarisch. If that’s the end of your little tantrum, it’s time we got out of here.”

  Graves almost laughed. “I’m not going anywhere with you, you crazy fucking Russian! No amount of money is worth this shit. I may be a fool, but I’d rather be a live fool than a dead idiot.”

  A flash of anger rippled across Krieger’s face. “I need you to guide me to Joe’s last position. Then the money is all yours.”

  “Choke on it, Alexei. I ain’t going anywhere with you and that’s th—”

  The last word was drowned out by a sound coming from above the jungle canopy. Both men looked up and spotted a single Fenrir moving above the jungle canopy. Gunfire spat from the side-gunner position as it took evasive action, trying to avoid something the two men on the ground couldn’t see. A few seconds later, a blast of pulse fire smashed into the left ducted fan-engine, sending the VTOL into an uncontrolled spin towards the jungle below. The Fenrir broke through the canopy, heading straight toward Krieger and Graves.

  The two men turned on their heels and bolted, leaping at the final second before the Fenrir crashed into the ground. Krieger landed headfirst into a collection of brambles, while Graves hit the earth hard, protecting his head with his hands. The Fenrir—it’s engines still activated—moved uncontrollably across the ground, tearing apart vegetation. The ducted engines, similar to those of a typical household drone, hungrily sucked in air—buffeting both men with intense winds. Krieger saw the blades rip toward where Graves lay, spinning at nearly 30,000 RPMs.

  Reaching out, Krieger grasped the gun-runner by the shoulders and pulled him to the side a second before he could be sucked into the engines and diced to ribbons. After another minute of death throes, the broken Fenrir slammed hard against a large tree and finally ceased moving. The engines were still going at full blast, pummeling the area with a heavy updraft.

  Still holding Graves by the shoulder, Krieger gave him a quick pat. “Never say I didn’t do anything for you, chum.” Before his friend could respond, the big Russian was on his feet and rushing over to the Fenrir. He checked the sky above the jungle for any further signs of drones, but mercifully he saw nothing. Reaching the smashed VTOL, Krieger peered inside.

  The passenger area was a broken mess. There were three people in it, all dead. One was bent nearly in two against the minigun, the others were splayed across the seats, bodies broken. Knowing he had minutes—maybe seconds—before the Fenrir caught fire, he leaned across and checked the front s
eats. The pilot, a man, was still breathing as he was pressed between his damaged seat and the flight controls. Beside him in the co-pilot seat was a woman, judging by the blonde ponytail flowing from her helmet. She groaned as she started to move.

  Krieger shouted to Graves over the noise of the engines. “There are survivors! Give me a hand here!”

  Together, both men managed to remove the pilot. He was badly injured, probably internally. Passing him off to Graves, Krieger squeezed himself into the crumpled pilot seat to check on the other survivor, who was slowly regaining consciousness.

  “Where…who…Krieger?” the woman managed to say.

  Surprised didn’t even describe what the Russian felt at that moment. There was something about the woman’s voice he recognized, but couldn’t put his finger on it. He reached over carefully and removed her helmet.

  It was a face he remembered back all those months ago in the dense wilderness of Venezuela.

  Caedra.

  It was the Vagabond leader, Leo Lennox’s aide-de-camp. Her tall, lithe form looked relatively unharmed from the crash.

  Krieger was astonished. “Caedra! Just hold still, I am getting you out!” He worked quickly, helping her to unhook her seatbelt before pulling her free. Caedra gave a painful yelp as her right leg jarred against the instrument panel.

  He was about to pull her free when Caedra stopped him. “Wait, just give me a second.” She pressed a few buttons on the Fenrir controls. Almost immediately, the ducted-fan engines powered down. Satisfied, she said, “Alright, that should keep things from going nova. Let’s go.”

  Gingerly, Krieger helped Caedra from the cockpit. Outside, Graves had the pilot’s arm clasped over his shoulder. Together, they led the two Vagabonds to a safe distance from the aircraft. Graves helped lay the badly injured pilot against the bulk of a large tree, propping the man up as best he could. The pilot’s breathing came in gasps as blood leaked out from his mouth. The gun-runner gave the man a quick look, then turned to Krieger, who was helping Caedra over to him.