AN: And here we go. Thanks to the 463 (seriously, what the fuck?) people who have read this story. That is still kind of unsettling, to open the traffic stats and see that people from places so foreign to me, like Slovakia, Trinidad, China, and Australia, to name a few, are reading my stuff. That's awesome. Props to all y'all! I own nothing, not a single thing.
Camp Life, Chapter Ten
Black Ops/Standoff
Steven reenters his sitting room from the walk-in closet in his bedroom, tosses Nico a shirt, and sits down on the sofa next to Drew, propping his grey western boots on the coffee table.
"Metallica? Nice one," says the son of Hades, holding up the shirt to examine it.
"Yeah . . . it's a few years old, so it should fit you. It's one of the few t-shirts I have; my dad never let me wear them. Said they made me look like a no-good hooligan."
"You look like a hooligan anyway," says Laurel, looking up from her Vogue magazine (She may be a total badass, but she's still a daughter of Aphrodite) and grinning.
Steven sneers good-naturedly. Nico chuckles, then takes another spoonful of nectar and sighs a little bit.
"Can demigods get addicted to that stuff?" asks Lily, watching him.
"I don't think so. I've had it once, and even though it tastes really good and heals you, it still makes you feel like your insides are going to explode," Jesse answers. He vividly remembers the one time Will Solace had tipped his head back and poured a few teaspoons of the drink of the Gods down his throat; he'd been stomped on by a massive fire-breathing horse during a monster-hunting exercise. He remembers the pain of the shattered ribs and shoulder and squirms uncomfortably. Amanda intertwines her fingers with his and smiles at him, obviously knowing what he's thinking about.
"I love that feeling," says Nico grinning and taking another slurping spoonful.
"Well, I think you're about ready to travel again," says Danny, their combat medic, studying Nico with a critical eye. "That should be your last dose."
"Speaking of which," says Jacob Van Isaac, frowning, "How are we rejoining the rest of the guys? We can't drive; and that wouldn't be very fun anyway. Your driving," he says to Amanda, who raises her eyebrows, "no offense, is terrible. I'm still carsick from getting here. And I'm pretty sure it's illegal to throw grenades out windows, even if it is at monsters."
"My driving's what?" Amanda growls. Nico flinches and drops his spoon.
"You've obviously never been to Texas," Steven replies condescendingly.
"Scaredy-cat has a point, though," says Drew, twisting in her seat to look at her boyfriend. Jacob glares at her (but only when her back is turned). "How are we getting to Greece?"
"Well," explains Steven, "The original plan was to call up some aura named Mellie, who would have first-class tickets to Athens, on the dime of one Mr. McLean, waiting for us. But I got an Iris-message from Percy last night; he said that the Argo II is expected to make landfall at Mount Olympus around one o'clock today. We don't have much time, and anyway, I want to bring some, ah, cargo, with us. That I couldn't take on a commercial flight. So I got our transport all arranged with my dad and Chiron. Our ride is waiting for us on the roof; it will take us to Camp Half-Blood, where we'll spend tonight, then we'll leave tomorrow."
"I don't even want to know what you're bringing," says Jesse, shaking his head.
"Well, what are we waiting for?" asks Laurel, throwing down her magazine (The cover, face-up, shows a close-up Keira Knightly pouting, but after a second shifts to a shot of Aphrodite, devastatingly beautiful, lounging on a maroon couch. The caption reads: 101 Ways To Keep Your War Helm Shiny All Summer Long).
"Seriously, lets go," agrees Nico, setting down his bowl. He still bears scratches and bruises from his time in captivity, but he stands smoothly and without any apparent effort, stretching his back easily.
"Alright," Steven agrees, glancing around at everyone, "Let me get some stuff, then it's off to the Batmobile."
Steven leads them to the throne room (highest the elevators go, he explains), which is empty, up several flights of stairs and out onto a platform thousands of feet above the ground. Sitting perched on the edge of this platform, posed to leap off and away at the tiniest signal, is a helicopter.
But it's like no helicopter Jesse has ever seen.
Painted in all grey, the letters USMC written in black on the fuselage, the sleek aircraft has two rotors on either side of the cockpit and a long tail with large stabilizer fins. It looks like some bizarre combination between helicopter and fighter jet.
"Our ride, ladies and gentleman," Steven says, looking satisfied with himself.
When the Argo II breaks through the clouds and descends, and Jason sees the army spread out on the riverplains to the south of Mount Olympus, he knows they are in for a rough time of it.
But this thought barely has time to flash through his mind before he sees the ancient home of the gods, the most important landmark in history, and all he can process is awe.
He's done his research; fifty-two peaks, not quite ten thousand feet tall, two small cities at the foot of the mountain, a long but not difficult hike to the summit. He's seen pictures on Leo's iPad, the one that sits in the pilothouse of the ship, displaying weather reports and the occasional episode of Tom and Jerry when Leo's bored.
He's even seen it in his dreams.
But none of that really prepared him for seeing their destination with his own eyes, right in front of him. He can feel it's power reverberating from here.
It's an amazing feeling.
Out of the corner of his eyes he sees Percy lean forward for a better look, not even wincing as his stomach muscles contract and his knife wound must blaze with pain; Jason knows it does, he's had stomach wounds before, and they hurt something awful. He was kind of pissed at Percy for a while, at first; the Greeks accepted him, he knew they did, but they were still a little uneasy around him, even though they'd met tons of Romans now. He'd expected to show back up at Camp Jupiter and find out they freaking killed Percy on the spot or something like that, but there the dude was, waving cheerfully, wearing his Praetor's toga. The legion and Reyna, staring at him all adoring- that had really hurt.
But then he had gotten to know the son of Poseidon, watched him fight - that was something else. Jason might have fought a Titan, but Percy had fought two, and won both times. He had fought fucking Kronos. Twice. And he wasn't an asshole, like Jason had sort of imagined him at first (Because seriously, some people at the Greek camp had freaking issues, man: Steven Rust, Clarisse LaRue, and Amanda Brooks, to name a few).
"Can you just fly us over them?" Percy calls to Leo, who is gripping his weird flight controls tightly, his tongue sticking out the side of his mouth, his face screwed up in concentration.
"No way," says Clarisse instead, peering over the side of the Argo II, "I can see scorpion ballistae, a couple trebuchets, a couple of big Phalanx anti-aircraft guns, and that tank has a rack of Stinger missiles on it. That big asshole there has what I think is a either a British Javelin or Starburst man-portable surface-to-air missile system. We try to fly over, those punks will fuck us in the ass. They knew we were coming from the air."
"Have you and Rust been comparing notes?" asks Piper, squeezing his hand tightly.
"Shut up, Sacajawea. We need to set down, before they put us down."
"Do it, Leo," says Percy grimly. "And Clarisse, don't call Piper that."
Clarisse is about to retort when Hazel, who's sticking her head over the side to watch the Giant army on the ground below, speaks up.
"Uh, guys? They have a big white flag up at the front of their lines."
Steven relaxes as best he can on the uncomfortable benches lining the walls of the V-22 Osprey's troop compartment. Drew lays her head in his lap and closes her eyes, falling asleep almost instantly. The others are sprawled out around the cabin wherever they can, trying to catch some z's. Steven strokes Drew's jet black hair and emulates them.
Steven bows his head before Zeus's throne. The King of the Gods studies him for a long moment, then rumbles, "You have fought well in my service, son of Aeolus, now and before." Zeus glances at his daughter, the Hunter of Artemis, uncomfortably, but she seems to find nothing odd about this statement. "What would you ask of me?"
Steven hesitates. "I require nothing of you, my Lord."
He sights the rifles crosshairs on the son of Hecate's chest. The man in the office building across from him is an enemy, raising support for the Titan cause. He has to go. Orders from his Father, who got them from Lord Zeus. Echelon Unit never fails. Neither does he.
Steven takes a deep breath, exhales, and squeezes the trigger. The bullet takes the target through the upper torso, blowing him backward. Blood paints the wall behind him.
He slips over the low wall, the rain of Detroit making him even more invisible to his target, who's trudging up the sidewalk, hood up, paying absolutely no attention to his surroundings. Steven walks silently behind him for a block, then collides with him, slipping the knife into the man's ribs. He quickly removes the wallet to disguise the assassination and disappears into the night.
He reads the slip of paper delivered by a raven earlier that night, his eyebrows climbing in disbelief.
"For termination," he murmurs. "Annabeth Chase. Daughter of Athena. Use any method, but make killing public. When cover is blown, report to 415 East 71st Street, NY NY, for debriefing. Signed, Echelon Operator, authentication Alfa-Echo-Oscar-Lima-Uniform-Sierra. Commence immediately."
He sits down on his bunk, running a hand through his hair. The first thing his eyes stray toward is the knife sitting on his bedside table, and he hates himself for it.
"I can't trust you anymore."
"Boy-"
He watches the scene on the bridge in the distance, his jaw dropping in awe as Percy Jackson manhandles the Titan Kronos to the ground. The Aura warrior next to him grabs his shoulder and tells him more enemies are coming, but he can't tear his eyes away from the spectacle unfolding a mile away.
The cold seems less fierce within the deep forest around Camp. A few bluebirds chirp nearby, and a chipmunk scampers from tree to tree, looking for food.
My mom-" Drew pauses, looking uncharacteristically worried. "My mom has been talking to me. In my dreams."
He idly wonders if that's how most Olympians communicate with their children. He knows he isn't exactly the norm when it comes to demigod parental relationships.
"She wants me to join your Echelon Unit thing . . ."
Steven freezes.
"Dover AFB Control, this is Victor-22 tilt-rotor aircraft out of Fort Carson, call sign Juliet X-ray one-one Actual. Requesting permission to continue onto final approach."
Steven wakes with a start. Rubbing his eyes, he feels the aircrafts rotors return to hover mode from flight mode.
"How did you get all this stuff?"
He looks over at Jesse in surprise. The other boy is sitting on the bench, little Amanda curled around him.
"I mean, I know you're like super-well connected and everything, but . . . still."
Steven chuckles. "It was my father, really. He asked Lord Hermes, your dad- God of travelers, which we sort of are. They worked it out. And all these guys are Romans anyway."
Jesse nods thoughtfully.
"Juliet X-ray one-one, we have you radar ten miles out, angels one-five. Permission to continue on flight path, permission to land at Terminal Charlie, granted. Be advised, VIP party waiting for you has arrived. Squawk when five miles out. Control out."
The crew chief who was just napping holds up five fingers, nodding at the son of Aeolus. The motion reveals the SPQR, winged Mercury symbol, and five lines tattoo on his forearm.
"We'd best wake everyone," Steven says.
Jason tries not to feel to excited when he's the first person Percy turns to for the parlay group. He's glad that his sort-of-Greek-counterpart respects his abilities so much. He knows Percy can't go; even with nectar and ambrosia and regular healing from Will Solace, the son of Poseidon spends pretty much everyday in bed, or in a chair for a few hours. Clarisse is chosen to accompany him; so are Hazel and Frank, Grover the Satyr, Lord of the Wild; and also Annabeth and Katie Gardner.
Several figures break away from the Giant group. At a distance none of them are really distinguishable, but one of them is clearly about twenty-five feet tall. A Giant. Which will be a problem.
Jason collects his little group, kisses Piper goodbye-for-now, and marches out to the middle of the plain separating the Giants and the Demigods.
The temperature is somewhere around sixty-five degrees Fahrenheit, which would normally be a nice and balmy, but the confining, heavy Roman armor Jason is wearing- and his nerves- are making him sweat. He suddenly wishes he was back in the shade, holding Piper's hand, and watching Percy lead the parlay group out away from the Argo II, and feels a little ashamed of himself. Children of Jupiter don't run.
As they get closer, the figures of the Giant representatives become more apparent. One, the biggest, stands about thirty feet tall: a Giant. He is rather thinner than Enceladus was, and dressed all in black, with greying mottled skin. As Jason gets closer, he develops a strong, horrifying suspicion that the Giant's clothes are made from burned human skin. The thing also has a scaly tail jutting from it's hindquarters and a scraggly beard. It grins, revealing blood-red teeth.
The rest of the Giant entourage is a mixed bag. Some are humans, some monsters, and two or three he can't quite place in either category. With a shock, he recognizes Lycaon, the wolf king he, Piper, Leo and Thalia had met in the Colorado mountains. And standing on the outer edge, away from the others, smirking at them, is Octavian.
Oddly enough, the figure in the middle of the enemy group is human, an African or Middle-Eastern girl wearing tan jeans and a dusty brown leather jacket, despite the heat. Her hair, a multitude of tiny black braids, falls carelessly around her face, and she's leaning on a tall spear with a sneer twisting her smooth, classically beautiful face.
When the Demigod delegation gets within twenty feet of the Giant representatives and stops, the girl walks toward them, Lycaon and a tall, bearded man with the look of a warrior two steps behind her.
The girl and her plus-two wait for them in the center between both groups. Jason glances behind him, nods at Annabeth and Hazel, and they move cautiously with him to the middle.
The leader smirks at them, leaning on that tall spear again. Jason absentmindedly notes that she's tied a few long white feathers to the haft of the spear near the point.
"Jason Grace, right? I almost didn't recognize you with that stupid armor on. And Annabeth Chase and Hazel Levesque! I hear my mum recently did your boyfriend a solid," She directs the last mocking comment at Annabeth, whos face darkens. The girl's British accent, mixed with a bit of something else he hasn't heard before, flavors the words oddly; he has to repeat what she said in his head to understand it fully.
"Octavian's your mother?" Jason asks, before he can stop himself.
"That explains so much," Hazel adds, snickering.
The girl glares at them, her eyes flashing. "Not that halfwit, you idiots. Gaea."
Jason stops short. Annabeth gapes in surprise. "Your mother is Gaea? You're a demigod?"
"Yes indeed, and a significantly more powerful one then you, if I had to guess," She answers placidly.
Jason sighs. "Can we get past this bantering bullshit? What do you want?"
The girl studies him. "I'm Ana, daughter of Gaea, and I'm in command of this army. These are Lycaon, son of Pelasgus and Meliboea, whom I believe you've met, and Agamemnon, son of Atreus and Aerope."
Not too bad, having a couple of kings in your retinue, Jason thinks. Former dead-a-million-years kings, but still . . .
Ana continues, "We are here to inform you that Mount Olympus is off-limits."
Jason exchanges looks with Annabeth and Hazel, then turns back to Ana. "Um . . . yes? I mean, that's what we kind of figured you were doing here . . ."
The girl sighs and inspects her nails.
"If you try to go for Mount Olympus in that shoddy flying boat, we'll blow it to pieces. If you try and break your way through us by force of arms, we'll crush you. My brother over there?" she adds, jerking her thumb over her shoulder at the Giant. "Graytion? He'd love that. Those are demigod skins he's wearing." The Giant grins that blood-red grin again. "But if you just stay over there, we're fine. We'll leave you be. But be warned, this isn't the only place around the mountain we have forces. So don't think you can just fly away and come from another direction."
Jason feels his fury rising. Demigod skins, huh?
"You can go fuck yourself. We aren't going to let you or your stupid mom destroy Mount Olympus."
Lycaon sneers and Agamemnon nods, a look of faint approval on his face, but Ana looks unimpressed.
"If you say so, son of Zeus. But you can count, you know we have far more soldiers than you. It would be suicide . . . and I don't see the Daddy Zeus or Mummy Lupa here giving you a hand."
When the Osprey touches down on the tarmac and they exit, Castor Hill, Gardner Peck, Lou-Ellen Hannity, Miranda Gardner, and Chiron, in his wheelchair form, are waiting for them. A few feet away a Delphi Strawberry Company Van idles, with Argus leaning on the drivers-side door.
No-one in the hanger seems to find this odd.
"Welcome home, heroes," Chiron says gravely. Steven resists the urge to roll his eyes.
Jacob Van Isaac and Lily Mérida stare around curiously at the sight of Camp Half-Blood, nestled in the rolling hills and bordered by it's thick dark forests. They probably aren't especially impressed after Camp Jupiter's magnificent New Rome, but Steven thinks he likes it here a little better. The forest, with its shady glades and miles upon miles of sprawling tall trees, makes him feel comfortable. Drew catches his eye and grins almost unnoticeably, and he smiles back.
"Stop flirting, Rust. It makes you look like an uncoordinated oaf."
Drew turns away, overcome by barely suppressed laughter, and Steven scowls at Gardner Peck, who's adjusting his tie fussily.
"Just keep it up, Peck," he says menacingly. "I brought a speargun back from my fathers palace, and I'd love to try it out on a moving target. Or better yet," he grins wickedly, "I'll lock you in a closet with little Lou-Ellen over there. That would teach you."
Drew completely loses it, draping on arm around Amanda and Laurel, who are laughing uproariously. Gardner squawks indignantly when Lou-Ellen waggles her eyebrows and licks her lips at him, displaying her magenta tongue piercing.
"Come on, guys," Jesse says to Jacob and Lily, "I'll show you around." They troop off, joined by Nico, Danny, Castor, Lou-Ellen and Miranda, heading for the cabins. Amanda and Laurel mutter something about long, hot showers, and follow them. Drew kisses Steven quickly, also whispers something, in his ear, about long, hot showers (but in a completely different context), and runs after them. Chiron says something gloomy about fate and electric-wheelchairs himself toward the Big House.
Rust and Peck watch them leave.
"Well," says Gard, adjusting his glasses idly, "As I'm sure you've guessed, you have new orders."
"Hmm. Hades?"
"Correct. But you're taking them with you, too."
"What?!"
"You heard me. You know that Hephaestus TV has already labeled your little posse the Bane Of The Two Hundred? I mean, it wasn't that impressive. Percy Jackson's killed way more than that in a single day, and he didn't have seven other warriors and a band of harpies with him."
"Still, though . . . I-"
"Don't be an idiot. Echelon or no, you need their help. This isn't just random inhumations of whoever happens to be bugging Lord Zeus at the moment. This is life or death. We can't afford to let you go off by yourself, guns blazing, and hope you actually manage to set up the portal. There's too much riding on this."
Steven sighs. "I suppose you're right."
Will rubs his eyes and leans back against the Argo II's hull. "This totally blows, man."
"What, did you think we were going to just sail in, beat up a few monsters, and everything would be okay? Real war isn't like that. You and I would know." Vinnie reaches for his water bottle.
"Yeah . . . but I though it might actually get fun. We're just sitting here."
He thinks back over the last couple of days. Astros had been loads of fun; they had still been playing the last notes of 'Tick Tick Boom' when the first monsters had swarmed out of the alleys and streets to get their slimy asses handed to them by the unamused demigods. And before that, they'd gone to the beach, had some funny Greek liquor, and had basically been on vacation. The Argo II wasn't too bad either, a little cramped maybe, but reasonably comfy - and there was always a chance to cuddle in a hammock with some cute Roman girl to 'stay warm at night'. That was awesome.
Now they were building a little camp, with trenches and defenses and unfolding artillery pieces from the ships's belly on the edge of a riverplain, facing their original destination, while the enemy did the same on the other side. It was going to get messy, Will knew. He hated messy. Messy was what got ole' Lee Fletcher killed. That had been the worst day of Will's life, hands down.
And now they were about to do it again.
He sighs. "Lets go give them a hand with those boards, little bro."
Before he can get to his feet, his path is blocked by Travis and Connor.
"Afternoon, Gents!" Travis says, beaming. Both Stolls have trays filled with cold water bottles, granola bars, apples, Cheetos, and various other snacks hanging around their necks. Accompanying them is a smaller, younger kid with messy brown hair, an elfin face, and a purple t-shirt.
"We have all manner of refreshments available to our hardworking demigods, both Roman and Greek - PB & J's, cold water, apple juice - though we might have something stronger if you ask nicely," Connor says, winking cheerfully.
Will and Vinnie exchange wary glances.
"Thanks, man," Will says, reaching for a water bottle, "It's hot as balls out here-"
"It certainly is," Connor agrees happily. "Five bucks."
Wills hand stops inches from the bottle. He can feel the chill from there.
"What?" he asks, wondering if he misheard (he knows he didn't). Vinnie sighs and rubs his brow wearily.
"Five bucks, friend," says Travis slowly, as if trying to explain astrometry to someone he's pretty sure doesn't understand fractions. "You give the money to little Kevin, there-" He points to the boy, who can't be older then eleven- "and we give you the water. It's how capitalism works . . . or something like that."
Will looks back at Vinnie, who shrugs. "I'd pay five bucks for a water and a front row seats to you guys getting your heads handed to you by Katie and Annabeth."
Will considers this, then nods agreeably. "Five bucks it is, then."
Steven wakes them all at a quarter to four. It's one of his favorite things to do, and he feels even less guilty then usual (which is not at all) because they all went to bed at like three p.m. yesterday. By four-thirty they are all lined up in front of the garage; Nico, Laurel and Drew awake, alert and composed, the others hangdog and yawning. Steven makes sure they have everything, then loads them into the van. Argus drives them out of the Camp and off towards Delaware.
When they are a minute or two away from the main entrance of Dover Air Force Base, Steven turns around from the passenger seat.
"Don't worry, guys," he says cheerfully, "This isn't a grenade." He takes the small crystal from his pocket and throws it on the floorboards at their feet. It shatters and a small puff of purple smoke rises into the air. They stare at him, bewildered.
Steven grins. "Look in the mirror."
Laurel whips out a little pocket mirror, opens it, and yelps.
"What is it?" Jesse asks, craning his head behind her to see.
"I'm ugly!" Laurel snaps, glaring evilly at the son of Aeolus. Jesse takes the mirror from her and examines his reflection thoughtfully.
"No, you look like a Special Forces soldier, which will be a lot less suspicious then a sixteen-year old girl when getting on a plane at a U.S. Military base. This was a little gift from Chiron; I'm not, alas, very talented with the Mist."
They are greeted by an officer in desert fatigues, who salutes when Steven exits the van. "Good morning, Captain. I have orders to escort you to Lieutenant Colonel Vance, who will brief you and your men."
Steven returns the salute crisply. "Lead the way, Lieutenant." Over his shoulder he adds, "Come on, you lot. Lets get going."
Lieutenant Colonel Vance, a stock forty-something with a greying buzz cut, leads them out onto the tarmac.
"Understand, Captain, that the 436th Airlift Wing is at your full service; but I don't understand what you need with an entire C-130 for your team of eight."
"Neither do I, sir," Steven shouts back over the sounds of a helicopter passing overhead, it's running lights turning the early morning mist light red, "I just do what they tell me!"
Vance chuckles. "Right you are, Captain. The crew you requested are onboard, the plane is already loaded . . . you need anything more from me?"
Steven shakes his head. "No sir! We have everything, sir!"
Vance nods decisively. "Very well then, Captain. I wish you and your men good luck. Happy Trails."
The disguised son of the Wind King returns the salute. "Thank you, sir. You've been very kind."
When Vance departs, he turns to his fellow demigods, points toward the C-130J Super Hercules turboprop transport aircraft and says, "Let's hop to it, ladies and gentleman! These Giants aren't gonna kill themselves!"
Percy sighs. "So basically, we have no other options but to wait here for the gods to do something, or commit suicide by Giant Army."
Jason nods soberly. "Yeah. And that chick wasn't bluffing. They have the force to back up their claims."
Leo leans in, interested. "A lady, you say? Is she cute?"
Hazel rolls her eyes. "She's gorgeous, Leo. She's also about as nice as a bull that's been teased by a matador's red cape all day, and she's Gaea's daughter on top of it."
Reyna frowns. "But you said she only has one Giant in her army, yes? That's a silver lining."
Annabeth shrugs. "One or a hundred, it doesn't matter, really. We don't have a god to help us."
The others nod grimly.
"Okay," says Percy, struggling to his feet with Annabeth's reluctant help (Seaweed Brain, Will said to rest! This isn't resting!), "We need to call the Olympians. Contact them somehow. Find out what the hell we're supposed to be doing. And meanwhile, we entrench."
The war council exchanges glum looks, then each goes off to start the preparations for a long-term engagement with a Giant army.
The inside of the C-130 would be spacious, but a number of steel crates are stacked in the center of the hold and held to the floor by thick cables, diminishing the available space. Metal benches line both sides of the fuselage, but don't look particularly comfortable (at all). A crew chief in a flight suit nods at them from the bench near the entrance to the cabin.
Nico looks around at the interior and sighs. "I really wish you would let us fly commercial. We could put our stuff in our luggage, they'd never notice. Or we could steal a plane. Anything but these benches again."
"Steal a plane? Yeah, that's a great plan. Nobody would notice that."
Laurel nods wistfully. "Pipes could probably do it, if she was here. Charmspeak us up a nice Gulfstream."
Steven shakes his head. "This will get us to where we're going, and fast. Don't worry, you guys; it won't be long."
"Says him," mutters Nico disgustedly. "He gets his nice Aphrodite snugglebunny to while away the hours . . . where's my- "
"Shut up, cabrón," says Laurel, smacking him around the head and dragging him toward an empty section of bench. "I need a pillow."
The cockpit door opens, and the copilot, his face covered by the dark visor of his helmet, glances around at them, doing a headcount.
Behind him the radio crackles and his partner says, "Control, Whiskey Romeo two-niner requesting permission for engine startup."
Once the plane is out over the Atlantic, Steven unstraps himself and stands up, pulling a small paper scroll from the pocket of his navy-colored jacket. Everyone looks at him.
"I know many of you are under the impression that we are on our way to Greece right now."
Nico glares at him suspiciously. The others exchange worried glances.
"But this is not so. We have been give a different task. As of yesterday afternoon, our mission is to assist Lord Hades, Nico's father, God of the Underworld, in preparing an invasion route for his army at Mount Olympus."
He lets this sink in.
"As many of you know, during the Battle of New York, Hades came up right out from under the street with his troops. But that was in America, where the gods currently reside. He can't do that elsewhere in the world. So, we have to help him with an Artifact. This artifact, called a Doorway, is currently in pieces, and we have to get them."
He pauses.
"Since recently Olympus has been closed off, but with the Battle of The Field Of Mars Lord Zeus has been preparing his fellow immortals for war. This won't be like New York; the Giants don't have anything nearly as powerful as Typhon. The things we need to watch out for are the Doors of Death and Mount Olympus. The plan is to use the Doors against the enemy."
"Use the Doors against the Enemy?" asks Nico, looking worried. "That's really dangerous . . . who is he going to bring back?"
"I don't know. But your father is dealing with it personally." Steven looks determined.
"To assemble the Doorway and assist Lord Hades in bringing the army out of the Underworld, we have to grab all three parts of the machine and assemble them in Greece. We are on our way to the first, in Greenland, right now."
The Camp Armorer hesitates, looking pensive. "I know you guys are wondering how I know all this stuff . . . and I'm going to tell you. I'm not really supposed to, but I am anyway."
The group waits, staring at him. Drew fidgets uncomfortably.
"The truth is," Steven says, "I'm not really a camper. Not an ordinary one, anyway."
"Well, I think we all knew that," Danny says, rolling her eyes, "I don't know any other campers who have enough firepower in their basement to rival the Death Star."
The tension breaks and everyone laughs. Steven sighs. "Again with the jokes. I'm not a maniacal, insane killer, guys! I'm perfectly sane."
He waits for the giggles to die down, then begins. "It's like this. The Olympians have used clandestine organizations for millenia, long before it was trendy in the U.S.; ever since Xenophon's Four Hundred, several hundred years before the birth of Christ. In the seventies and eighties it was Treadstone, which used single agents to spy and sometimes kill for the gods. They were disbanded after some problems with a rouge agent, but in 1977, 1st SFOD-D, also known as Delta Force, was created out of the best fighters among the ranks of the Demigods, with mission statements involved with counter- terrorism against rival groups, such as the Titans, and monster suppression. A son of Ares, Charles Beckwith, was given command. They still exist today."
He starts to continue, then hesitates. "What do you guys know of the U.S.'s ECHELON program?"
The demigods glance around and shrug. Current events aren't really their thing.
"The ECHELON project is a SIGINT, or signals interlligence, program. It's basically a massive computer that taps into phone lines, emails, text messages, Facebook; you name it, they can read it. It's used primarily to foil terrorist plots. The Gods take it several steps further to monitor their enemies, and then they dispatch people like me to deal with them."
"Deal with them? Deal with them how?" Amanda asks suspiciously.
"Don't be naive. You know exactly what I mean. But I am a member of Echelon. I work for the gods."
His friends absorb this.
"Well, we knew you were pretty weird," offers Jesse with a shrug.
"Yeah," agrees Laurel, "These planes and all the guns and everything . . ."
Everyone nods knowingly.
Steven looks a bit surprised, as though he'd half expected them to try and burn him at the stake, shouting "He's a witch! He's a witch!".
Drew looks thoughtful. "So we're gonna get help from dead people, old heroes, like . . . Hercules? And Theseus?"
"Maybe," Steven answers, "I really don't know who, exactly. But that's the general idea."
"Greenland sounds cold," Jesse mutters, looking despondent.
Laurel grins. "Don't worry, I'm sure Amanda know's exactly how to keep you nice and warm-"
As Amanda starts throwing things across the bay at the cackling daughter of Aphrodite, Lily Mérida asks, "So, how are we gonna get down there? I heard the pilot say something weird about halos?"
Steven's answering smile is absolutely evil.
Annabeth finds Percy standing on the prow of the Argo II, next to Festus's immobile head, watching the sun set and absentmindedly rubbing the bandages around his midsection. She wraps her arms around him from behind and kisses his neck.
"We're gonna be here for a little while, aren't we?" she asks.
Percy nods. "I just got an IM from Chiron. We're waiting for Rust's group. They have something to do. We just have to hold this position, and stop the other side from doing anything to the mountain."
She sighs. "At least I have you," she murmurs into his shoulder.
She seems to feel Percy grin even though she can't see his face. "So it'll be better than New York, you mean?"
"Yeah," she whispers huskily, tongue flicking his ear. He shudders with pleasure. Annabeth takes his hand and leads him towards their cabin, both of them smirking.
"Well, that was awkward," Will says from a few feet away, shaking his head. Kara grins.
"Just cause you had a crush on Annabeth all those years ago . . ."
"I was nine!"
Kara, Vinnie, and the rest of his siblings laugh. Will sighs, grinning despite himself.
"Look, guys, the next couple of weeks, or months or whatever, are gonna suck. But at least we have each other, and our other Roman siblings. Amanda doesn't. She's gonna be trekking hard around the world, trying her best to help us out. So we gotta step up! And make sure we help her out when she gets back!"
He lifts his soda can in the air. "To family!"
The children of Apollo raise their drinks. "To family!"
Rachel peeks out over the barricade sheet metal, sand and wood constructed all around the Demigod lines, then sighs and sits back down on the blankets she shares with Lacy, who snuggles against her. Bobby starts telling them about some awesome movie they should apparently be arrested for not seeing, while next to them Butch sets up a little sleeping area for him and his Roman friends (or lovers, if you want to get really specific), Nathan and Gemma. Resting her head on her girlfriends shoulder, she sighs again.
"What is it?" Butch asks quietly.
A little startled- he'd barely said a word all day- she answers, "Oh, nothing. I'm just starting to regret I insisted on coming so badly."
Butch nods, his mouth creasing faintly. "It gets easier."
Rachel frowns. "What does?"
The son of Iris shrugs. "It's just something Annabeth says sometimes."
Rachel considers this. It gets easier. "Well, maybe," she murmurs.
With a loud mechanical grinding, the ramp of the C-130 opens, revealing the grey and white blotches of land moving far, far below. A light on the wall near the ramp shines red. From in the cockpit, the pilot activates the radio. "Whiskey Romeo one-niner checking in, approx. twenty-three thirty, radar heading thirty six degrees, angels five plus five. On course. Preparing for HALO jump. Ramp activated. Coming over target area in ten seconds."
"This is absolutely crazy!" Jesse screams at Steven furiously.
"Bat-shit insane!" Nico adds over Jesse's shoulder, though he looks excited.
"Make sure you've got your parachutes on!" Steven shouts gleefully over the wind whipping noisily outside the aircraft. "Remember, only pull the strap after ninety seconds of free-fall!"
The light suddenly turns green, and a loud buzzing noise fills the bay.
"Go! Go! Go!" Steven roars.
Laurel charges forward. As she reaches the edge of the ramp, the wind seems to pull her out of the plane. She disappears instantly. One by one the rest follow (Steven has to push Jesse), until only the son of Aeolus and the Roman crew chief are left.
"Aren't you gonna need a chute?" asks the crew chief.
"Nah," says Steven cheerfully. They shove the big metal crates off the ramp and out into the cold. The chief checks his watch.
"You'd better hurry!" he shouts. "Any longer and you're gonna miss your insertion zone!"
Steven nods. "Wish me luck," he says, and leaps off the ramp and away from the C-130, dropping like a stone.
End Of Part One
AN: And that's the first part. For those interested in the V-22 Osprey or the C-130J Super Hercules, or the concept of High Altitude, Low Opening jumps, visit Wikipedia, that fantastic source of arcane knowledge. My hat goes off to the soldiers off the 436th Airlift Wing and 1st SFOD-D. The next chapter should arrive in a week or so. Later days. :)
Next Time: As Part Two opens, Rust, Nico, and their gang attempt to retrieve part of the Doorway from beneath several tons of ice and snow, while Percy tries to focus Travis and Connor's gift for mayhem on the enemy army.