Chapter 1

EMFC Fearless

Fernix System Moving to Sol System

5/3296

Mark looked over his three Regiments. He had come far since he’d joined the EMF. The rank tabs on his shoulder marked him as a major. The scars that lined his body and the rack of medals stuffed in the bottom of his locker were a testament to the battlefields he had survived.

He had fought alongside most of his Regiment for the better part of two years on Fernix. Some he had fought with since Masoul, two wars and over a century in the past.

To him it had been just a matter of years. Cryostasis had held him in limbo for hundreds of years, only awoken to fight the next enemy of the corporations that ruled Earth and Her Colonies.

He had fought on Sacremon, one of the bloodiest uprisings in the EHC’s history. That was before the war with Harmony had started. He had been on every planet, and in the middle of some of the worst battles against the politico-religious group that called themselves Harmony’s Chosen.

The nightmares and the missing faces from those battles plagued his memories every night. He looked at his second in command, Force Sergeant Major Dominguez, who had been beside him since Masoul. They had started off as master corporal and corporal.

Now they were leading an entire force of two Regiments.

“They look like shit,” Mark said, his voice gruff as his hard eyes swept over them. Captains Alexis and Ko were standing at attention in front of their companies.

“Sure you aren’t looking in the mirror?” Dominguez replied, looking over at her commanding officer.

Mark snorted, a rare smile spreading across his face.

They had been pulled off Fernix in a hurry, just as they had on Osdal. Mark was getting pissed off with not finishing what he’d started. He wanted to follow through and destroy the Harmony fighters that called themselves ‘Chosen’.

They had been given the best of the best, as their carrier and three others were travelling as fast as they could for Sol. Harmony had roped in the EMF to fight the systems that had openly rebelled and they were now heading straight for Earth.

It was the job of the Troopers to get to Earth, create a plan for defense, and destroy Harmony’s forces before they got a foothold on Earth.

If they didn’t, then the EHC could fall. If it did, then Mark knew the first order of Harmony would be to hunt down the Troopers.

“Alright you lazy bastards, my name is Mark,” he said, hearing whispers and mutterings of Diablo and Triple Twos in the ranks. They were quickly silent.

“We’re not here to look pretty or parade around like those fucks in Mega City. We’ve been given the honor of crushing what remains of Harmony,” Mark growled, seeing more than one hard face look at him in anticipation. They had all lost someone to Harmony and they were eager to pay the bastards back in kind.

“We will take the lessons learned from fighting all across the EHC, and I will turn you into the killers that you can be. You are going to fucking hate me. You’re going to wonder why I’m such a prick for training you this hard. You’ve proved yourselves on Fernix, right? You may have, you may not, I don’t give a flying fuck. You are now my Force. Some of you may have heard of my brother Tyler,” there were a few nods and eyes flicking in interest at him. “Well, seems that he’s got a Force too, and it seems that he wants to challenge us. He says that his people are better than you. I want to prove him wrong. I want to show Every. Single. Trooper. That Force Three is not to be fucked with. You do your best, you push yourselves, and I will do everything in my power to deliver you right into the heart of those Harmony bastards. Till then, we train, we learn. You thought you knew your Powered Armor before? I’m going to make you forget how to walk without Powered Armor. You will be Powered Armor. Do we have an agreement?” Mark asked, looking at those ranks, holding the eyes of those that looked back at him.

“Yes, sir!” they yelled.

“Holy fuck, is there a pair of ovaries and balls between the lot of you?” he demanded, in the kind of voice that he had learned from training Troopers as a sergeant.

“Yes, sir!”

“I thought you got me Troopers, not fucking cleaners,” Mark said to Dominguez.

“Alright you lazy sacks of wasted air!” Dominguez bellowed, her voice even outdoing Mark’s. “Use your fucking lungs like the Chosen are coming at you! Do you agree to the major’s offer?”

“YES, SIR!” They barked.

Mark looked them over, veterans to a person, all trained killers. He would take their skills and add to them, form them from their various units into a single cohesive force.

He smiled; it was a dark thing.

“I think I felt something tingle, might just have been a breeze,” Mark said. Like the men and women that had come before them, he would make them his own and he would become theirs.

“Leave is over, time to get back to work. Stand at ease!” The Troopers moved from their stiff positions to one where they could move more freely. “Captains, see to your Regiments,” Mark said, turning and leaving with Dominguez.

Alexis and Ko, Mark’s two captains, took over, pulling their people into a semi-circle. They all hated standing around doing parade shit.

“What do you think?” Dominguez asked, looking at Mark.

“They’ll make fine killers,” Mark said.

“That they will,” Dominguez said, a wicked expression spreading across her face.

Chapter 2

Tower

Earth, Sol System

5/3296

“The fleet from Fernix is on their way back to Earth, and they have begun training as well as outfitting their carriers,” said Dalia, Nivad’s second in command, sitting in one of the two seats that rested in front of his desk.

He was the head of Earth and Her Colonies, a good cover for the corporations that warred with one another behind closed doors and through the stock markets. He knew more secrets than any other man, and he used them and his position in the ministry of intelligence to accrue his own power. He was also the leader of Earth’s Military Forces.

Though he didn’t hold the position, everyone knew the truth. If you had a partnership that had a colony uprising, you requested a meeting with Nivad and hoped that he was lenient with his terms to reclaim your property.

Recently that had happened less and less, as Nivad dictated what partnerships would pay as he cleared their system of the rot that was called Harmony.

“Good, Fernix itself?” Nivad asked, smoking a cigarette from behind his desk.

“The fleet is holding position over the Blue Moon, and they are hitting targets of opportunity as they can. Half of the fleet and most of the Troopers are mining and working on making more ammunition so that they can assault the moon once again. Captain Hall has expressed to our Masoul agent that the fleet can hold in orbit and pummel the Blue Moon from there. More wreckage for the Fernix partnership to clean up, but it will mean lower Trooper expenses,” Dalia said.

“Use the forces that are moving to support. Those Troopers are better fighters and will be better in any future battles we might have. I heard that there was some trouble in Housapel?” Nivad took a drag of his cigarette.

“It seems that a decent force was able to hide from us for a number of months. It looks like there are a number of bases that are made out of the underground cryo-bunkers. Our intelligence people have picked it up and are building a proposal to remove them from the planet,” Dalia said.

“Good, we don’t want the new colonists running into any of the old when they arrive,” Nivad said. “I heard that the shipyards are finally working to make freighters, even without incentives.”

“That is correct, with The Yard producing their freighters, the other companies are now realizing that either they get into the game or they’ll be left by the wayside. The Yard is also changing its name to the Victor Corporation. Seems that they are enamored with the Victor brothers.”

“Those two have raised popular opinion in the EHC and EMF considerably. We will have to do something with them when they arrive on Earth… flash them around to the different corporations, make them feel at ease or something,” Nivad waved it away. It was another fifty years off. Nivad and Dalia didn’t even think of that period of time as considerable. Augments, anti-aging treatments, and power had kept them alive for much longer than many other heads of corporations.

“The colonists are on their way and the corporations are interested in the proposal to drop Troopers off at the planets they are at. Once the battles are complete, it would be best to offer them a discharge, and employment at the worlds that they have cleared of Harmony,” Dalia recommended.

“I agree, see to it. The battle for Earth; has our agent told us what our Troopers are thinking?” Nivad asked, stubbing out his cigarette.

“Right now they are only training, and groups of them are getting together and gaming out both how they would take the system and then how to defend against the attacks,” Dalia said, frowning.

“Upset that they are thinking of ways to take Earth?” Nivad asked, a small smile on his lips.

“It is concerning,” she admitted.

“They have no interest in controlling the EHC, they just want to get the war over with. I have been studying them for the same reasons, and I think that it might be an opportune time to offer some of them retirement. It will make them look forward to getting clear of war and any thoughts of taking Earth.” After years of studying people and coming to understand the ways in which emotions affected them, Nivad had become a master of reading others.

Dalia pursed her lips in thought, nodding as she agreed with Nivad’s plan.

“That should work nicely,” she said with a smile.

Nivad returned it, a twitch of muscles to console his second. “I want to know what they need immediately. We need to hold Earth at all costs and it will do good to add defenses that we might not need but will serve as warning to any others that might challenge our power.”

“Yes, Nivad, I will have all of that to you as soon as possible. Our agent has informed me that it will be another few months until the Troopers are finished training, and then they start focusing on their ships and working to defend Earth.”

“Once they have arrived in system I would like to meet them, discreetly. They have been of great service to us and I would like to see about them becoming advisors,” Nivad said.

“It will be done. I have also been surprised by their abilities.”

“Now, the biggest challenge we have is securing our position, both before the attack and then after it. We need to make sure that we come out on top. To do that, I think that it would be best if we move ahead with the plans to remove some restrictions on smaller companies entering the workspace. Competition will serve to throw the larger companies off balance, and also give a big boost to the economy.”

“Certainly, the small companies in Osdal have started producing, and are already selling products to the Victor Corporation. The Victor Corporation is buying all their materials, setting themselves up for rapid growth. They send one of their larger freighters that way every five or so years, the rest are going to Masoul. It looks like they will become the leading freighting company in the area. Fernix has a number of freighters in their system, but they have been pulled apart for the most part. Once the colonists get there, then they can start trying to get them back online. In the meantime, they will have less than a third of what was moving through the sphere,” Dalia said.

“I saw that it has already started to hit the markets.”

“Goods are down across the board, as are materials. It was easier for many companies to ship the materials to Earth than mine it themselves. Everything that was imported from the sphere is now making openings for more companies to explore and produce goods here on Earth. We have the people, so, if done right, Earth can become a large exporter of goods to the other systems that relied on the sphere,” Dalia was talking about the relatively close systems with habitable planets. They had supplied the EHC with raw materials, ships, and household electronics and parts.

“Good, that will leave plenty of room for small companies to start rising up.”

There was a knock at the door and Nivad and Dalia looked up. It took a few moments before a Powered Armor-wearing security guard walked in.

“I am sorry to interrupt, sir, ma’am.” the security officer looked from Nivad to Dalia. “You have an appointment.”

“Very well, we shall wrap this up later. I think that it should be a relatively interesting half-century.” Nivad stood and buttoned up his suit jacket.

Dalia smiled in agreement as he walked her to the door.

Chapter 3

EMFC Fearless

In Transit to Sol System

5/3296

“Do you even try to eat with your mouth closed? You sound like a pig that doesn’t know whether to breathe or choke,” Dominguez complained.

Dashtund looked at her with a glare as he swallowed.

Tyler smiled to himself as he ate his beef brisket and gravy. He felt a hand squeeze his leg, and looked over at Alexis to see her eyes sparkling in amusement.

He put his tongue out at her, her eyes thinning as she squeezed his side, and he shifted suddenly, ticklish as hell, bumping into Mark.

“I swear, since meeting you lot I haven’t been able to have a meal in peace,” Mark growled.

“Makes things more interesting, big bro. You know, like making nukes when you’re just supposed to kill one guy,” Tyler said.

“You blow up a reactor once for a distraction and suddenly you’re the world’s biggest disaster waiting to happen,” Mark sighed.

“That and no one will ever volunteer you to distract the enemy, ever again,” Jerome said, pointing with the ribs he was tucking into.

“There is that,” Mark said with a grin.

“The truth comes out,” Alexis shook her head.

Mark let out a rumbling laugh.

The five new people at the table were still getting a feel for the group.

Tyler and Mark were both majors, with Dominguez and Jerome as their divisions’ sergeant majors.

Dashtund, Alexis, Ko, and Essa filled out the captain slots, with Whyte, Kim, Liu, and Nguyen as their regimental sergeant majors. All of the regimental sergeant majors and Essa were new to the party. The rest of them had been together, or known of one another, since Masoul.

“Hey there, knuckle draggers, move down a bit,” Bobbie arrived at the table, a bulky-looking man with the symbol of a Combat Shuttle Cargo Master on his shoulder.

“Hey, you ugly bastard. You in for tonight’s card game?” Ko shifted down the bench to make room for Bobbie.

“Ah, I think that I can swing by,” Bobbie said. “Ready to lose all of that combat pay already?”

“I was just about to ask you the same thing,” Dashtund said with a grin.

“If he’s playing I’m out,” Young took her seat.

Tyler watched her out of the corner of his eye. Their old regimental leader, Captain Haas, had had a thing going on with her since Masoul. He hadn’t survived the Blue Moon, and she’d taken it as badly as anyone would.

Tyler thought her as much his family as the others around the table. He didn’t want to make his worry apparent, that would just make her angry.

“Don’t think you can play a real card player?” Dashtund taunted.

“I didn’t know a real card player was such a good cheat,” Jerome countered.

“Never any credit with you lot,” Dashtund grumbled, shaking his head in sorrow.

“Heard you lot are now true shuttle herders,” Alexis said.

Tyler watched her almost as much as Young. There had been a tense time after a bad injury that had left her sterile, but they had passed through that. Now, he was just happy to see that she was smiling, joking, and seemed to have left most of that shadow behind.

“Herders, fits,” Yu, the captain of the three crew Combat Shuttle said. “I swear, after having them trying to work in formations and get an understanding of how to fight fighters… I have no idea how the hell they survived. At least the ground crews are finally getting up to standard. Chief Masal is whipping them into shape. They’ve forgotten more than they remember and it’s going to take months to retrain them.”

“Well if you ever need someone to give them a push, let us know. We’re the ones riding in the damned things and I’m sure as hell going to make sure it all works before my boys and girls load into them,” Mark said.

“Thanks Mark, I’ll pass the word to Masal. I might need a few of your people to beat some sense into the Combat Shuttle pilots that feel they can take fighters on while loaded with Troopers.” Yu shook his head in frustration.

“You going to introduce us to your friends, or do I have to do the guessing game?” Bobbie asked, nodding to the new people at the end of the table.

“Don’t worry, they don’t bite, though they do smell bad and like to blow the shit out of things,” Tyler said.

“Makes me think of Tal and that fucking ride to Masoul. I swear, that guy and Taco night…” Ko reminisced.

A silence settled over the table as they remembered those who had gone with them to Masoul but had died there, or on one of the other planets that they had fought their way across.

It wasn’t as bad as it had been a few weeks ago, they’d had some time to mourn. It wasn’t enough but they needed to prepare for Earth, and the EMF wasn’t going to let them sit back and sort themselves out on their dime. Once they had a plan and were trained up, it was back into cryo.

The new people had the sense to wait before talking. They were all veterans too, with recommendations from people that the others knew and trusted. They wouldn’t be in their positions if they hadn’t earned them.

“I’m Essa, came from the EMFC Constitution.” Essa was a well-built woman who might have smiled at one point. She was more handsome than beautiful, simply due to her attitude and her demeanor. She was an officer and she would do her duty, but it was a duty that had worn on her heavily.

“I’m Whyte,” Dashtund’s sergeant major said.

“No shit, I wasn’t exactly going to call you tanned,” Bobbie said with a grin that showed it was a joke.

“Not many places to get a tan around here,” Whyte said with a smile. He was a lanky looking dude; calm, reserved, and a hell of a hand-to-hand fighter. But being in cryo for decades and then in Powered Armor did little for someone’s naturally pale skin.

Kim was a quiet fella with a deep voice, he didn’t seem to talk more than was absolutely necessary.

Liu was a poster-looking soldier, with strong features and only a short military regulation haircut.

Nguyen was confident, and laughed easily but, like the others, she knuckled down when the fighting came.

The first early bonds were being made as Tyler held Alexis’ hand under the table. She smiled at him as she squeezed his in return.

He put his tongue out again; she laughed shaking her head at her immature husband, and then stuck her tongue out back at him.

Tyler nearly snorted his food out as Mark and Jerome looked at the two of them.

“Goofballs,” Jerome surmised.

“Quite,” Mark agreed, smiling at his family.

***

Lunch had wrapped up quickly and Jerome was making his rounds through the various training areas. sections were coming together as they worked to bring their bodies up to Two Division’s standards.

As they had fought they had only worked when they needed to, conserving their energy and waiting. Here, they were getting back the conditioning lost over the nearly two years.

They were packing on the pounds lost from limited rations. Their leaders pushed themselves and their people hard, way past their limits. Jerome had seen most of them in the medical ward getting fitted with augments.

All of them had optical implants and at least one kind of medical augment. It showed in their recovery times. They could work faster and harder on less sleep and sustenance.

Though, for now, Mark made sure that they were packing on the calories, and that nausea-inducing physical activity took place well after meal times.

“They’re looking better,” Jerome said to Kim as they watched a platoon working with Powered Armor and training blades.

“We’ve started decreasing the power amplification on their Powered Armor, to make them really fight for it,” Kim said.

“Good. Captain Hall is also increasing the gravity of the ship, so it should be rated for just over Earth’s gravity before we finish training,” Jerome said.

“Here I was starting to feel tall,” Kim said, spitting into a squeeze bottle.

Jerome laughed, looking at the five-and-a-half-foot tall man.

Suddenly Jerome’s eyes caught a lethal motion in the fighting Powered Armor. He wasn’t the only one. A master corporal saw it, moving in and slapping the blade away.

A tussle broke out. Kim started moving forward, but Jerome rested a hand on his shoulder. Kim looked at him askance but held his place.

“Let them sort it out; if they need it then they’ll ask for us,” Jerome asked.

“Sometimes it really sucks having a higher rank,” Kim sighed, spitting into his bottle again.

“Yeah, it does.” Jerome had wanted to get in the middle of it and sort out what was going on. Instead he had to trust the section and platoon the offending corporal was in to deal with the attack. “I’m going to go and check on first platoon, want to tag along?”

“Sure thing, boss,” Kim said.

“You got any extra chew?”

“And the real reason you asked me on this excursion comes out,” Kim snorted.

Chapter 4

EMFC Fearless

In Transit to Sol System

6/3296

Mark moved through the sparring mats with ease, even in his Powered Armor. His people were tired, but still working hard to impress him.

He talked to a few people here and there, giving advice instead of treating them like children. They were all veterans here; they had proven themselves. Unless they started acting like idiots, Mark was happy to treat them in the same way he might treat one of his friends he was sparring with.

People listened to him and followed through with their attacks, blocks, and feints.

I wonder if any of them thought we would be training with swords more than blades when they joined the EMF? Mark thought, looking over a scene that someone might have seen two millennia ago. Men and women sparred in full armor, with practiced and deadly strikes.

More than once Mark had found himself learning something instead of teaching. All of the people had fought across a variety of battlefields, and their experiences only served to make them all better.

Mark was tired of fighting, tired of war, and he wanted nothing more than to leave it all behind, but he would not leave his people. The promise he had made to Caroline as the warmth left her body on Osdal was burned into his mind.

He would eradicate Harmony, and see his people through those battles. They might hate the constant drill, and be irked by the need to train when they knew that they were good fighters, but when battle came, he knew that they would thank him.

Training would pull them together into a single unit, a powerful force to be reckoned with. He and the other leaders had spent their time working out a plan to get them combat capable.

Recently promoted General Ortiz was leaning against a wall, watching the Troopers. Mark walked over, and Ortiz glared at him as he was about to offer a salute.

“You can take that hand and shove it, Mark,” Ortiz growled.

Mark’s face split into a smile. “Good to see you too, Ortiz.”

“I didn’t realize how much damn fucking paperwork there was as a general. Thankfully Moretti found me some bean counters to take it over. Need to plan to defend Earth, not waste time tallying up equipment costs and the like,” Ortiz complained.

“I wasn’t going to say anything, but it does seem that the weight has settled around your knees,” Mark said.

“Bite me.”

Mark spat into a squeeze bottle and offered Ortiz a tin from his pocket.

“You blessed soul, I don’t know what I would do without you,” Ortiz said, getting a laugh from Mark as he put in a decent sized pinch of the brown chew.

He tossed Mark the tin and pulled a bottle out of his pants’ leg. “Your Troopers are looking good, hell they all are.”

“Good, we’re going to need them.”

“Yeah, Earth’s gangs aren’t going to like it much when we walk all over their territories. I’ve got Moretti looking into Earth’s different gangs, and it looks like we’re going to have to assert our claim over Earth to just get the ground. They are, of course, going to try to do everything they can to get our supplies. Hell, a boot would be good enough to feed someone for a month,” Ortiz sighed, rubbing his face. His dark hair was showing grey and his face was lined with wrinkles from stress and a lifetime of battles.

Mark hesitated before speaking, wondering if it was the right time, or even if he should suggest it.

“Out with it boy; just watching those thoughts roll around your head is enough to give a man constipation,” Ortiz said.

Mark looked around, then activated the sound canceler that Moretti had made him.

“You knew Quentin Richter, right?” Mark asked, talking of the man who had raised him in the Slums and been the boss of the gang he had lived with.

“Yeah, course. Him and Nerva were like brothers,” Ortiz said. Nerva had been a mentor to Ortiz, Mark, and so many others. Mark believed it was actually his training that had kept him alive for all of his fighting years.

“When he passed away, he passed control onto someone else in the gang, but then he made a promise that if I or Tyler returned, they would accept us back and that they would listen to our advice. The gang is still around, and they’re pretty powerful. If we make a treaty with them then not many people will screw with us,” Mark said.

“Worth a shot. When we get to Earth it’s worth giving it a try. But, if it comes to it, then we’ll have to teach the gangs why you don’t screw with Troopers.”

Mark nodded, his face hard. The EMF had become his home a long time ago. He would do anything to keep his people safe, even take on Earth’s gangs.

***

Alexis looked at her Regiment, and she had to admit that they had made strides in returning to their pre-Fernix condition. In fact, many that had been only taught to do what was called the BM, or Bare Minimum, were actually in better shape than they had ever been in their lives.

They had packed on their weight, been passed through medical treatment. All of them now had augments; Mark had said proudly the other day that they were the most augmented group of Troopers in the known universe. All of the items that they had captured and then sold back to the companies through the EMF had lined their pockets nicely.

A few that had been hesitant to get the augments before now, understood how the little devices could literally save their lives on the battlefield.

Alexis took a breath, thinking of her own injuries that would never heal. It was like a shadow passing over. She had been deeply hurt, but Tyler had broken down her walls and reassured her.

She loved him even more deeply; no matter what, she knew she could never leave the big dolt alone. She smiled to herself as she watched the Troopers executing training moves under Mark’s tutelage. He was moving around in his Powered Armor, calling out training techniques, and the group was moving in one singular mass.

The moves would be ingrained into their minds, ready for when they were attacked by Harmony.

Or by the gangs, she thought, remembering her own time in the Slums.

They just had three more months, but Alexis could already see that the Troopers were all willing to learn. The frustration at all of the training was there, but they understood that they needed to do it.

They could already see the results in the fighting on the simulation floors, and in the gym, sparring. Even in the video games that they played, they were using real tactics to fight one another.

They had started off as people from across the fleet and from many Trooper Regiments, but in nearly two months they’d turned into a singular fighting force.

Their armor was battle-scarred, but no longer covered in grime. They had filled out with proper nutrition, and while the haunted look hadn’t left, it was now focused on the task at hand.

She moved for the elevators; she had set up a simulation with her leadership, and the best way to get used to her people was to throw them into some combat with her.

She’d taken the leadership from her platoons and companies, and formed them into one large section. They’d be going up against another Regiment’s leadership. It was meant to get them working closer as a team.

There was a certain degree of competition among the Regiments; if there wasn’t something on the line, then it wouldn’t be fun, she thought with a smile.

Chapter 5

EMFC Fearless

In Transit to Sol System

9/3296

Mark looked over his Division, at his three Regiments looking straight ahead. His trained eye passed over armor, Repulsors, and positioning.

It didn’t take him long before he was standing back in front of them.

“I guess you’ll do,” he said, a smile spreading across his face. “Alright, you’ve got a few weeks of leave, so make sure your buddies don’t get too messed up and don’t go into cryo with a hangover - or drunk! Feels like piss when you wake up,” Mark grumbled, getting a rumble of laughter.

“We are going to be waking up as we get closer to Earth to turn this carrier into a true warship. As we do so, we will all be going through training again to keep our skills sharp. It won’t be long until we’re waking up on Earth. Once we get there we will dig in, ready and waiting for those Harmony pricks. We have destroyed them in Masoul, Osdal, and Mintran. Our brothers and sisters will clear out those that remain in Fernix and Housapel. We will finish it with Earth,” Mark growled.

“I look forward to standing with you on the battlefield, Troopers,” Mark said, scanning their visors. “Captains, see to your Regiments.”

Mark left as the Regiments’ clean lines dissolved and the Troopers piled around their captains. There were none of the awkward movements of the first time they’d done it.

They were used to the briefing circles. Joking and talking to one another.

Mark knew they were ready as he walked away. All of them moved with the wider steps that characterized Powered Armor wearers, moving in their Powered Armor as if it was their own skin.

***

The mess was in full swing, but Tyler was watching Mark with a thoughtful look, sipping on his beer.

“Something wrong?” Alexis asked, pressed up against his side.

He thought about trying to cover it up but knew she’d see through him, even if they both were getting a good buzz on from their beers.

“Scared for Mark,” Tyler said.

“Why? He’s drinking a normal amount and he’s talking to others about plans. He’s chewing more than he’s drinking,” she pointed out, reminding Tyler of Mark’s alcoholic binge after Osdal.

“I mean; he’s been approached by several different women. The Mark I know would have taken some, if not all, of them to bed if he could,” Tyler said, wondering if she was the best company to share his observations with.

“He’s a hero and he’s also handsome, not like you, but women might be interested in his height and those muscles,” Alexis mused.

“Yes, but he hasn’t even batted an eyelid as he turned them away,” Tyler said.

“Caroline,” Alexis said.

Tyler winced; he’d only heard parts about the woman called Caroline, most of them when Mark had been pissed drunk after Osdal. They’d cared for one another and then, because of knowing him, the Chosen tortured her in front of him. He’d killed them, but it had been too late. She’d died in his arms. She had been someone that could take in all that Mark was, and not care. She had been a rare woman and the loss had hit Mark hard.

“I hope one day that he gets past it,” Tyler sighed, looking at Alexis.

“In the meantime…” Alexis grabbed two shots from a passing barmaid, the chip in her arm automatically billing her for the drinks. She passed one to Tyler, tapping the glasses together. “Cheers!” she said with a wicked smile.

Tyler tossed it back, the liquor burning down his throat. His implants informed him that his augments could clear the alcohol out of his system. He turned them off and let the alcohol take hold.

“Trying to get me drunk?” Tyler asked, their breath warm on one another.

“Maybe,” she said kissing him hungrily, her hand rubbing his leg. “Is it working?”

“Four more shots please!” Tyler called to the person at the bar, then turned back to Alexis. “Maybe a little.”

Chapter 6

Alezio City

Goulag, Demash System

11/3296

“The Earth’s Military Forces moving from Fernix to Sol have started their cryo-stasis schedule. They will be woken and then shifted to different duties until they reach Earth in half a century,” NIDenise said inside of Primus Legate Nerva’s head.

She was a Neural Interfacing Artificial Intelligence. Every person born into protection under the Roma Legions usually had one. They looked like simple silver bands on a person’s arm. Their nanites spread out over their user’s body and neural pathways to understand messages, look after their user and allow them to quickly access information.

To Legionnaires, they were invaluable for controlling their complex Powered Armor and for the control and coordination of the biggest military machine in the known universe.

Nerva rubbed his face in thought. He was a much older man than he had been when he had left the Legions to recruit from the EMF’s Troopers.

He had left it decades ago, but for the people he had left behind, and who had survived, it had been just a few short years.

He had been fighting across more planets than were in Earth and Her Colonies, but it didn’t mean that he had forgotten the people that he had thought of as his children.

He sighed, thinking of Tyler and Alexis’ wedding.

“Very well, see what their plans are. If we can, let’s try to extract them this time, without Mark breaking out of the extractor’s capture,” Nerva thought-spoke.

“I will update you as the situation continues,” NIDenise assured, stimulating his audio-sensory nerves instead of speaking out loud.

Nerva nodded and looked to his own charts and information. They had beaten back most of the larger Maraukian hordes. There were a few more moving in and Nerva’s people were tired.

He had been working with his people to not only push off the last remaining Maraukians, harassing their defenses, but also turning to repairing and rearming them. They had been pushed back to the third lines of Alezio’s defenses.

They had been just holding onto the planet’s defenses for years. The Auxiliary Legions from the planet’s own population had been cycled through as new people had taken up arms and the old had been pulled back to train. The Legionnaires had held the lines, no matter what.

More than once it had come down to shield and sword, using the tricks of their forefathers to shove the Maraukians back and claim back their lines.

That’s what Legionnaires do; we hold, we hold no matter what, Nerva said, pushing out of his seat and feeling his joints pop and crack. He turned, getting more kinks out, getting some relief as he walked over to his Powered Armor.

“Are you going to inspect the lines?” NIDenise asked, as if she couldn’t read his thoughts already.

“Reports are good and all, but there’s nothing quite like seeing the damned things close up, Nerva thought-spoke. The armor pulled around him.

He wasn’t some general that was going to sit watching the battle from his carrier in orbit. He’d be down in the trenches with his people until someone dragged him away.

It’s come down to that once or twice, he thought with a smirk, the Powered Armor responding to his movement as he pulled a helmet onto his head, and it sealed.

He wanted to be out in the world, pushing the Maraukians back aggressively with offensive operations. Sitting cooped up in defensive positions made him feel that he was losing his edge, that he was becoming dull to thinking of new ways to bleed the Maraukians.

He knew it was foolish, but he’d been the tip of the spear for so long that it grated on his nerves.

“Some things never change,” he said, his HUD coming alight with information as he moved out of his office.

Chapter 7

EMFC Fearless

In Transit to Sol System

5/3321

Jerome stepped out of his cryo-pod, and looked up and down the ranks. They had all done this before. His people were getting out of the cryo-pods along EMFC Fearless’s spine. Catwalks above and below showed the racks that held over one hundred thousand Troopers and twenty thousand support personnel, from medics to Combat Shuttle crews, maintenance crews or carrier engineers, techs or armorers.

It was one hell of a sight, seeing just a few Troopers pulled out of cryo.

There’s a reason people piss themselves when a Carrier arrives in orbit, Jerome thought to himself.

They had travelled decades but they were fresh, combat ready, and capable. They were hardened veterans of the past, woken from their slumber to tear a new enemy apart. It seemed almost fantastical; instead it was cold, hard, merciless science.

Jerome made his way out of the spine. People were getting into sections and moving out, but Jerome didn’t have any of that to deal with.

His implants pinged as new orders told him what he would be doing to help Fearless become combat capable, and the training he would be watching and undergoing to make sure that he was ready when he woke up next. By then he would be on Earth.

Other information and reports came in.

These were detailed and roughed-out plans for defending and attacking Earth, including the best data that had been collected as Jerome woke up.

He started looking through different ideas and scenarios as he wandered into an elevator, heading for his quarters.

He paid the reports some attention, glancing through them instead of giving them any in-depth attention. He would later, but the cocktail that had pulled him out of cryo was giving him a headache that was threatening to grow to epic proportions.

His augments worked away to clear his system of cryo-stasis drugs and get him at a hundred percent.

A shower, and then he was at his office table reading his orders.

“Space welding, awesome,” he sighed.

He’d get a few weeks of training and then he’d be in space or around Fearless tacking on the new systems.

A noise alerted him to someone at his door. He opened it and Tyler strode in.

“You had time to look at your orders?” Tyler asked dropping onto Jerome’s couch and tossing him a meal replacement squeeze bottle.

Jerome was starving, but the Slums and fighting through meal times meant that he was used to the pangs.

“Thanks and yeah. I’m getting trained to weld things in space,” Jerome said, squeezing the smoothie into his mouth.

“Well they’ve been working hard; they’ve stepped all of the reactors up. The weapons have been checked and worked over so that they are approaching our own normal cannons’ abilities. We’re going to be finishing the installation of guns, and shifting some of the larger cannons over to the new side.

Once that’s done we’re putting armor on. Mark’s Division and the other Divisions getting woken up after us will finish off installing the armor,” Tyler said.

“Good, sounds like we have quite a bit of work in our nine months.”

“Enough time to start working with people to make them good scouts. I’ve been looking at the plans. I woke up last week,” Tyler said, answering Jerome’s questioning glance. “Anyway, looking at the plans, we will only need the Powered Armor if we come under heavy combat, otherwise we have to pin them into place and hit them from everywhere and anywhere. We know Earth; the red dust gets into everything and those metal particles are bound to screw up the Powered Armor.”

“So, we go in with our normal equipment, use our knowledge of the place, and hit the Chosen hard and fast. Let them worry about their Powered Armor getting fouled by Earth’s atmosphere. Though, if they get into Mega City, that plan will go to shit,” Jerome said.

“Yes, though I’ve been looking at Mega City’s defenses, as have the rest of the leadership. That city is better defended than most systems. Little is getting through the air, though a lot more can get through the ground. Which is where we’re going to be, out and around, ready to react and move to wherever the Chosen go,” Tyler said.

“What if they go to another planet first?” Jerome asked. “Mars is still damn powerful and they have a ton of resources.”

“Yes, but we’ve got flight simulations. At the time that the Harmony fleet reaches Sol, they’re going to bypass, Saturn, Venus, skim the sun, and then hit Earth. Saturn has mining prospects galore and Venus has their floating cities, yes. Though Harmony can’t win their war with Venus or Saturn. This is their final play, they need to hit Mega City in order to, if not win, then to throw the EHC into chaos,” Tyler said.

“Sometimes I just love hearing ultimatums. Just makes me want to roll my eyes and go back to sleep. If they think it’s going to be that easy I guess we should educate the idiots good and proper,” Jerome said.

“You know it, brother. I’ve called a meeting in the mess in an hour, I’ll let everyone know what’s going on, get some food in and then start going about getting this Carrier ready to fight and our people ready to stick a blade into the Chosen’s backs.”

“After you, sir,” Jerome said, indicating the door.

“Jackass.”

Jerome grinned, following his brother out. It was the first time ever that he had been woken up in the EMF and he wasn’t going to be sent on a combat operation.

Feels weird, he admitted as Tyler started talking about different proposed plans of how to deal with Harmony on Earth.

Chapter 8

Tower

Earth, Sol System

8/3347

Dalia knocked and then barely entered Nivad’s office; he was entertaining a corporate head, smoking a cigar and talking business, and both of them were drinking from his finest liquor.

“Sir, ma’am,” Dalia said, nodding her head to Nivad and his guest. “The Earth’s Military Forces Fleet has returned from Fernix. They are moving through the Oort cloud.”

“Thank you, Dalia, let me know if anything else happens,” Nivad said, looking at her but seeing the corners of the corporate head’s lips twist upwards in amusement for barely a moment.

He could have had the information sent to him through his implants, but having Dalia report it to him personally with Miss Evers von Toff in the room, showed his close supporter that he trusted her, and it would give her something to talk about for the coming weeks.

It was a rare treat in the corporate circles that paid a high price for the latest information to hold over their competition. Getting it for free, or easily, would only tie Miss Evers to him.

“Yes, sir. I am sorry for the interruption,” Dalia said bowing her head and closing the door behind her.

“Shall we go and get a bite to eat? I find that I am quite hungry,” Evers von Toff said.

“I do think that will be interesting,” Nivad said with a smile.

“You will have to bring those delicious Victor brothers to one of my parties,” she said, sipping on her drink.

“I will see what I can do,” Nivad said, his smile growing. How little you know, Miss Evers von Toff, he thought.

Many people had already forgotten how he had climbed to power. He had not been a corporation head’s son; he had been a bodyguard, an enforcer.

He could kill easily and get rid of people’s problems. He had started recording the information in his mind and had gained his position by trading information and secrets for blackmail, in exchange for power.

The Slums were a tool, but he knew what they were: they were a war zone. It was why he made sure that there were always a number of well-trained Troopers-turned-enforcers that made sure no gangs got the idea of trying to extend their reach beyond the Slums in any sort of violent way.

The Victors, Mark, Tyler, Alexis, and Jerome, weren’t dinner guests, they were enforcers. Nivad felt a likeness with them. They were wolves in human form. He might have to force them into a few things to demonstrate his power, but he would need to be careful how he did it.

He would also need to keep them on a tight leash.

They might have made Nivad the most popular man in the EHC, but they could easily bring him tumbling down. The more he thought about it, the more he knew he needed to get them in line somehow.

If he had been capable of feeling emotion he would have smiled with amusement. Instead, he was thinking of how to manipulate the foursome; they could make capable and powerful allies if handled right. If not, then he would have to get rid of them in a hurry.

They are amusing, he admitted, a rare thought for him. For decades they had intrigued him, something that was hard to do. If he could, he would keep them around just to see what they would do.

Chapter 9

The Yard

Sol System

8/3347

Jane looked at the message on her screens again, then she leaned back, stretching her arms.

She was the only one that knew the secret of the Victor Corporation. Damien had died six short years ago in a mining incident, leaving behind his daughter, on whom he had doted. Esamai. She was a good and studious girl.

Smarter than me by far! Jane thought as she opened her implants, tracking her granddaughter down.

She was out working on the solar farms. A Costa didn’t rest, especially if they had shown an interest in trying to run The Yard.

Jane sent her a message to finish off her work when she could and then head to her offices.

She sent a short message to the Victors. A part of her, a part that had been told the stories of the Victor brothers, of how they had become the managers of The Yard, was excited and exhilarated to possibly meet the famous family. Another part of her was scared about what might happen with them back in the system. It had been one hundred and forty years since they had last been in Sol.

They were Troopers, they had fought across the stars and they had been Earth and Her Colonies’ iron fist.

They had become war heroes, bloodied by battles which had been censored for gore, something that had rarely happened in Jane’s age.

She sat there watching the EMF Fleet as it moved further into Sol; it would take a few months for them to reach Earth as they slowed their speed with their massive solar sails.

Jane had been building ships all of her life, and she could see the extra armor, the points that must have been weapon systems. The patches that covered battle damage. The Carriers were large, but no longer massive in Jane’s eyes.

The Yard was building freighters that could carry five EMFCs inside it comfortably.

These ships were clearly warships, they were battle tested and scarred. The modifications weren’t pretty but the Carriers now had weapons on all sides and extra armor.

They looked like the warships of old, where nations had competed inside Sol for Mars, Uranus, Saturn, Venus, asteroid belts, and resources.

Esamai walked into Jane’s office, her helmet, with her gloves stuffed inside, clipped to her chest. She was sweaty and tired, but her eyes were curious and alert.

Jane looked at her granddaughter, wondering what Earth’s coming war would mean to her. She was pretty and her poise indicated someone that was ready to get stuck in, and she was used to people listening to her. She had a spacer’s paler skin, but the tan that the Costa’s got through their genes rather than from the sun kept her from being pasty.

Jane felt a lot older as she waved Esamai forward.

“What’s up?” Esamai asked.

Jane pressed a button, locking the door and activating a noise canceler. Esmai looked even more curious.

Jane pulled out a cigarette, offering Esamai one. She shook her head and Jane lit one up.

“It’s about time I told you about the owners of The Yard and the Victor Corporation,” Jane started, remembering when Damien had sat in that very seat and she had told him the same story.

It’s time that she knew, soon they might all know, Jane thought, new questions forming in her mind for Jerome and Mark.

Chapter 10

EMFC Fearless

Oort cloud, Sol system

8/3347

Mark stepped out of his cryo-pod. His augments were working with the drugs that had brought him back to get him fully functional. He had only woken up once before to work on welding armor paneling to the carrier. He’d slept for nearly fifty-one years, with a nine-month period of work in between.

He looked around. He, like the majority of other officers, had decided to go into cryo in the spine. These were their Troopers and they wanted to be right next to them if they were woken up in the middle of battle. Mark moved towards his room and office combo. He rolled his shoulders, moving the armor he was wearing and shifting his E-12 out of the way.

All of the Troopers were wearing their armor and weapons, a precaution just in case the numbers had been off and they were arriving in-system with Harmony right on top of them.

His checks showed that the Harmony Fleet wasn’t supposed to arrive for another fourteen months.

Ortiz had called a meeting that all of the officers, majors and above, were supposed to attend in four hours. Plenty of time for Mark to drop off his armor, take a shower, talk to his officers and make sure everyone was good.

His inbox pinged with a new message.

Welcome Home.

-JC

It made Mark frown for a moment. Earth was where he had been born, and where he had lived for most of his life. But it wasn’t his home anymore. The EMF had become his home.

He thought about the promise he had made to himself about leaving the EMF as soon as Harmony was defeated. No more going into cryo, no more waking up to fight for his life.

He deleted the message, knowing that he would have to deal with a lot more than just Harmony if he wanted to leave the EMF, and he still needed to talk to his people to see what they wanted to do. They were all tired of war, but could they leave the EMF behind? It was all they had known since becoming adults.

A problem to deal with later, he sighed, once again moving for the elevator.

“Something on your mind?” Dominguez asked.

“Lots of somethings, and not a lot of answers,” Mark said.

“Well, there is a lot of room in there,” Dominguez said smiling.

Mark snorted, letting out a laugh.

***

Ortiz waited for everyone to pile into the room. Moretti was standing off to the side; they’d both been woken up a few weeks ago to make sure that they were up-to-date with the situation in Sol.

“Morning ladies and gents, good to see you out of cryo,” Ortiz said, facing them from the podium of the lecture hall. “Alright, Harmony are still coming on their predicted course, they’re braking now and we’ve got a pretty good idea of where they’re going. We’re still going to go on the assumption that they can hit anywhere in the system. Our job is to defend Earth. If Harmony hits any other planets or moons, those are secondary targets. Harmony won’t be arriving for another year, so we have plenty of time to get ready. First of all, we need to secure the ground.” The screen behind Ortiz showed Earth as a map. It looked odd, with actual continents being shown instead of the red-dust covering that Slum-dwellers knew.

“We all know the Slums, though it has changed since we were last in the neighborhood. Some gangs have fallen, others have risen and taken their position. None of them are going to like it when we walk in and piss on the lines they’ve drawn up. So we’re going to be vigilant. You and your officers will be going out there and talking to gangs; we want them on our side. Make it clear that if they kill Harmony, we will pay them for the armor and weapons. Either they’re with us or against us. They start trying to fuck us over or pushing back, we show them why Troopers are feared.”

There was a rumble of agreement throughout the room. All of the officers had been in the EMF for a number of years, and the Slums weren’t even recognizable to them.

“What will we be operating in?” Mark asked.

“We’re going to have Combat Shuttles, and positions in Mega City with our Powered Armor. Out in the Slums it’ll get screwed up with the dust, so we’ll be using our armor plates out there. Once we are engaged with Harmony, we’ll have scouts and gangs report on Harmony, and we’ll hammer them with our Powered Armor Troopers. There will always be a strong presence in Mega City. We will be based out of the citadel and will be patrolling in Combat Shuttles and Powered Armor sections,” Ortiz said.

“What are the conditions like on the ground?” Lieutenant Colonel Shultz asked. Ortiz had been the man’s direct commanding officer a number of times, and he was a good officer and field commander.

“It’s SNAFU as balls,” Moretti said. Ortiz and a few others grinned and laughed at the ex-middle CEO’s tone and words. Situation Normal, All Fucked Up, Ortiz thought, mentally translating the acronym. “The Greenhouses are still the controllers. A gang called the Westerly Three Complex now provides security for all of the Greenhouses. It has held for nearly a hundred years. Now the gangs are pushing back. They want more control and the money that the Greenhouses make. The Westerly Three Complex have seceded rights to some of the Greenhouses, but they aren’t gangsters any more. They’ve become weak. A war is brewing, and alliances are being made for and against the Westerlies.”

“Why does that matter to us?” a major asked.

“It matters because the gangs might use our own war to cover for theirs. We need it sorted out before we have to deal with that and Harmony. If the Slums start to annoy the corporation heads in the cities, or even Mega City itself, who do you think they’re going to send to purge the Slums?” Moretti said.

Ortiz noticed the way that the Victor family moved and looked at one another. The story that they had told him had shocked him in more than one way. Mark, being as paranoid as he was, had set up an empire, a secondary plan for when they were out of the EMF, or a way to escape it.

Ortiz had been proud instead of angry, and appreciated that Mark and Jerome had raised the funds to pay off the Troopers’ contracts, even Ortiz’s own.

He also knew that the Westerly Three Complex gang was integral to their plan. He didn’t know what they would do, but they were the best shot they had at stabilizing the whole thing.

He’d easily turn a blind eye to it as long so he could focus on Harmony.

***

“So what’s the plan?” Tyler asked Jerome and Mark, and Alexis leaned in, eager to hear the reply. It was just the four of them in the empty store room, and a noise canceler was working.

“Quentin said that we were to take over the gang when we returned; well, we’re back and we need to sort it the hell out. Either they can look after the Greenhouses and support us, or we rip it apart and build it back again. I’m not going to let Quentin’s work with the gang turn into nothing. Moretti will support us and Ortiz will turn a blind eye as long as we get it sorted out. We need to establish our control,” Mark said.

“What if leaving them to be picked apart by the other gangs puts us in a better position?” Jerome hated himself for having to ask the question.

“Then we let it fall, but we pick who comes into power; those Greenhouses were put under our protection and they pay their taxes to us. We will uphold our side of the bargain. Get in contact with Jane Costa, see what’s going on there, and then get her to organize a meeting with the Greenhouse leaders. We’ll land, get our bearings, and then start getting things sorted out,” Mark said.

“Let us know how we can help,” Alexis said, looking at her two brothers, and holding Tyler’s hand.

“Will do, little sis,” Jerome said grinning.

“It’s not going to be easy or simple, but we’ll get everything sorted out,” Mark promised.

Jerome looked at a man he could only think of as his older brother. The head of their little family. He wasn’t perfect, but Jerome trusted him totally.

“Jerome, you know more about space stuff than any of us. I want you to go and visit The Yard quietly,” Mark said.

“I’ll get something sorted out,” Jerome nodded, looking at Tyler.

“You have my permission,” Tyler said, tapping him on the shoulder.

“Thank yah, sir,” Jerome said, smiling at his own terrible pirate imitation.

“Let’s get our people training and ready. The gangs live by the rule ‘might makes right’. We need to show that we’re not going to deal with their petty crap. First thing, we take back control of the Greenhouses, then we exercise our control over the gangs. Crush those that don’t get in line and award their territory to those that support us,” Mark said.

Earth was one big Slum with pockets of cities and then the sprawling Mega City. Talking of controlling it all was a hell of an undertaking, but Jerome wasn’t even fazed by Mark’s words. He wasn’t day dreaming, he was planning, and few things could get in the way of Mark’s plans.

Chapter 11

Senate House

Roma, Hellenic System

8/3347

Nerva had been a man of the Senate since before he had left to recruit Troopers. He had gained the position through his feats defending the people of Roma against the Maraukian hordes.

With his return to the Legions, his position as Primus Legate had again improved his position. It entitled him to a plot of land where the people on it could come to him, or someone that he appointed, to hear out their troubles. Nerva dealt with most of the issues himself, with NIDenise acting as the intermediary. Most of the other infractions and smaller issues were dealt with by the magistrate courts that ruled over the Roma people.

A person had to gain the position of Primus Legate to be considered for the Senate. If they commanded more than five Legions at a time, and had carried out their duty to the Senate and the Roma people with honor, then they were given a position in the Senate.

Nerva was an odd case; he had been given a position even as he continued to serve with the Legions. There were only a few others that did this.

Nerva had been on Roma and he had fought across the planets Goulag and Erstal since the EMF had left Fernix. Two whole wars had left him in need of a rest. His Legions trained and gained strength. He was now in charge of ten Legions, which were ready to be deployed to any system if needed.

Nerva looked around the Senate house, it was built with Rome’s architecture in mind. It had grown over the years. People sat around, everyone intermixed with seating determined by picking a number out of a box. It made it easier than to have different sides bickering.

A few fights had broken out, but the Senate guards were used to them and adept at pulling people apart. Everyone served in the Legions from the age of sixteen to eighteen, bridging the gap into adulthood. These men and women, even if they had filled out in their extended age, had spilled Maraukian blood. They knew how to kill, and a few of them had even killed their fellow man when people had moved against Roma.

People wore white clothing with a slash of color which denoted their background. There were plenty of blood red sashes of the Legion among the green of growers, blues of medical care, purple of heroes, orange of mechanics. The list went on and on, making a sea of shimmering colors.

The Senate proposed bills and ideas, which they then argued over, though the vote went to the people. Everyone voted on what the outcome would be.

They were talking about various engagements, about sending the Legions to different places. The people of the Hellenic system and under Roma’s rule would vote.

If someone did not cast their monthly votes for a period of three months without a reason, then they were given a warning. The next year, if they missed more than three vote periods, then they were given their belongings and holdings, and told that they were no longer Roma citizens.

Plenty of people wanted to be citizens of Roma, their ancestors had forged their great empire. Before the Emperor had died during the Maraukian hordes’ attack on Roma, childless and fading quickly he had ordered that Roma was a privilege, that the people of the great empire must be worthy of calling themselves Roma’s citizens as their ancestors did.

It meant that the Empire’s subjects always knew what was going on, and the people’s rule was enforced. People complained that the economy suffered because of the monthly votes. They might suffer a loss of credits, but they were a much stronger empire, and people were proud of the empire that they had a hand in.

Even with the voting system, there were many that wished to join Roma to have the same rights that all citizens were privy to.

Roma expanded constantly, terraforming and, on occasion, taking down systems that they had freed and which turned against Roma.

When alliances were made, nations were given plots, usually a few floors of the mega towers on Roma to take up residence in, and Roma was gifted plots of land. While Roma got more, those that moved to the new planets created Roma embassies that worked with the people of the new planet.

They brought education, technology, and the promise that the Legions would stand beside them.

All of it was interesting and made Nerva proud of his home.

“Doesn’t change much,” the Legionary beside Nerva said, waving to the Senate House.

“Nope, though we’re still here and the empire is stronger than ever,” Nerva said.

The man nodded, he had a hard face and a no-nonsense attitude to him.

“Have you found out what your next deployment is going to be, Pullo?”

“Some backwater planet, all desert with a bit of water. They call it Tricticus,” Pullo sighed.

“Problems?” Nerva asked. Pullo had served under him in the EMF and had been the sergeant of Mark and Tyler Victor on Sacremon before getting gravely injured.

He was slated for recruitment into the Legion so they put him back together and put him to work.

Through the decades he’d worked his way up the ladder until becoming a Legate himself.

“The planet has a bunch of city-states instead of any true countries or real treaties with one another,”

Nerva winced. “That is not going to be fun,”

“I hate politics,” Pullo agreed, the two of them falling silent for a while.

“How is that Harmony War thing going?” Pullo asked. He might be a Legionnaire now but he had been a Trooper first.

“Getting messy, they’re all racing towards Earth to duke it out there.”

“Bunch of corporate bastards using a war to attack Earth and try to take over the EHC. Brings a whole new meaning to office fights,” Pullo said, shaking his head.

Nerva gave him a small smile, remembering some of those fights.

“Seems that they’re finally getting their heads out of their behinds though. I wouldn’t mind having a few of those EMF guys on our side. They’re going to give those Chosen a good thrashing,” Pullo continued.

“Here’s hoping,” Nerva said, not really wanting to dive into it. He didn’t want to think of how many of his friends would die from fighting on Earth.

A recess was called and the Senate House rose and started moving outside, and a few holograms here and there disappeared.

“Well I’m going to go and get my orders then go see the sights,” Pullo held out his arm.

“Look after yourself, Pullo,” Nerva said, bracing the man’s arm.

“Don’t I always?” Pullo grinned.

“I remember one time when a young sergeant got between the Victor brothers and their attackers,”

“Ahhh, they were still wet behind the ears! I would’ve been fine,” Pullo smiled.

Nerva gave Pullo a flat stare as they separated and Pullo chuckled, walking away.

The Senate House was one of the most guarded places in the entire universe. It wasn’t a physical building, even though it looked like it; it was a massive ship with the Home Fleet protecting it.

Nerva made small talk here and there but he couldn’t keep his mind off Earth, and NIDenise gave in to his thoughts and started displaying different information from Sol.

Chapter 12

The Yard

Sol System

9/3347

Jane walked into her office, looking up sharply as she realized that there was someone in it.

“Excuse me, can I help you?” Her voice was stern, and the large man sitting in front of her desk stood. She used her implants to call for security.

“I think you can, Miss Costa,” the man said, a cigar in his mouth as he looked at her levelly. He wore the armor and fatigues of a Trooper, with his helmet hooked to his hip.

His name tape declared him as a Victor. She’d seen all of the Victors on the feeds from the Harmony War.

The security guards came in, their weapons at the ready as they looked darkly at the man, moving to put themselves between Jane and him.

“Don’t worry boys, this is an old friend, though he just near about scared the piss out of me,” she said, her eyes flicking to Jerome who smiled wolfishly, still puffing on his cigar. “It’s all good, make sure the doors are locked. Also, you never saw him.” Her eyes were on her guards and the guns disappeared as Phil, the shorter one, nodded.

“Understood, Jak, I believe we were taking a nice long walk through the offices,” Phil said.

“Yes, sir,” Jak replied.

Phil sent her a questioning glance as they left, but she waved him away, reassuring him as the door sealed.

A sound told her that a noise canceler was working.

“I’m guessing you’re Tyler,” she said, extending her hand.

“Jerome,” the man corrected. His hand was calloused and strong, but he didn’t try to use it as they shook.

“Good, didn’t want to be dealing with an imposter,” Jane said, moving behind her desk as Jerome took a seat in front of it.

“So what can I do for you, Mister Victor?”

“Please, call me Jerome, would get too confusing with Victor.”

“Jerome then,” she amended.

“I need to set up a meeting with the heads of the Greenhouses. I also want to know what the situation is like here, in your words. I want to know how we can help, and we need to go over your future plans. I also wanted to have a frank conversation with you about Osdal and the company that is being set up there under the protection of the Victor Corporation,” Jerome said.

“Just a quick chat,” she smiled, not really believing that she was sitting across from the man who had talked with her great grandfather and first purchased what had become The Yard. “I take it from your words that you want to talk about the mining company based in Osdal’s Oort cloud?”

“Yes.”

“Good, your messages told us that they were willing to work with us and that they could supply the rarer materials that we are paying out the ass for in Sol.” Seeing Jerome’s look, she added, “People don’t like new blood out in the universe. We’ve had to pull heavily from your line of credit to stay afloat. It has only been in the last few centuries, as the Harmony War has been ongoing, that we’ve hit our stride. There’s a distinct lack of specialty materials, and the ones we’ve been getting are on the extremely expensive side. We’ve been pulling ships apart to get them back. Osdal gives us a new avenue.”

“Good, the Victor Corporation owns ten percent of the companies’ profits in that system, and we have agreements with them to take that in materials instead of credits for trading with you. That said, while they do give the Victor Corporation a portion of their profits, they are a separate company, and you will have to negotiate prices. As time passes I expect that they will be selling to more people, but hopefully they will have a high enough capacity that they can serve our needs and those of their other buyers.”

“Good, that will sort out materials in a few decades,” she said, rubbing her forehead. “Mind if I call in my granddaughter, she’ll be working by that time.”

“Certainly, but why don’t you just take an anti-aging treatment?” Jerome asked.

“They are rather expensive and, while this is a large company, we are running at a little over cost. In a few decades, when we’re shipping more goods, then we will be doing rather well. Maybe if I live that long I’ll get the treatments.”

Jerome simply nodded, and Jane couldn’t read his expression at all. She sent a message for Esamai to join them.

“Right, where were we?” she asked.

“What is going on with The Yard?” Jerome reminded.

“Alright well…” she leaned back and grabbed a cigarette, lighting it up. “We’re going big and we’re not going to say sorry for it.”

Jerome let out a laugh.

Even though Jane had only been talking to the man for a few minutes, she felt a bond with him that she hoped would turn into a friendship. He seemed like a capable young man, mature well beyond his years.

Chapter 13

EMFC Fearless

Sol System

11/3347

Mark looked down on the red-dust covered planet he had been born and raised on.

He spat into his squeeze bottle as another alert came up. Seeing the heading for half a second, he threw it into the trash again.

“Hey, Moretti.” Mark didn’t have to look at the man as he approached, his augments gave him better hearing. A lot of people might call him a cyborg, and he was. If the augments kept him alive, then they kept him in command and fighting the enemy.

“I honestly didn’t think that I was going to see Earth again,” Moretti admitted as he stood next to Mark and they looked down onto it.

“Me neither.”

Moretti paused, as if he wasn’t sure how to go about saying what he needed to say.

“You look like you’re going to go the way of that reactor if you don’t let it out,” Mark said.

“I need you to go and meet with Nivad Selvra,” Moretti said finally.

“The head of the ministry?”

“Yes.”

“Why?” Mark asked, confused. “I’m a Trooper doing a job, what the heck is so interesting about me?”

Moretti stared at him for a while, blinking. “Sorry was having an aneurism, did you go blind?”

“No?” Mark said, confused.

“Holy shit, it must be nice with that much space in there,” Moretti said staring at Mark’s head.

“I will punch you,” Mark threatened one eyebrow lowering as he spat into his tin.

“You, my friend, for some reason, are a war hero.”

“Damn stupid tittle,” Mark growled, looking back over the planet.

“Course it is; as a wise man said to me, heroes are made when someone fucked up. Or the enemy were a bunch of assholes and listened to Murphy’s Law and Sun Tzu. Now, like it or not, people on Earth think you piss victories and probably could shit out a four-course meal. Don’t try to imagine that, it’ll just hurt,” Moretti warned.

Mark spat again, trying to hide the fact that his imagination had started to run away with him.

“Nivad needs to secure his position and look, there’s you, look at that shiny... well, a war hero anyway. The guy has done a lot for us. If it wasn’t for him, then we’d have had some dipshit general that had had their brains addled from screaming like children and calling it politics and war fighting. He’s the one that gave me the authority to run around like a friggin’ kid with a whack-a-mole. Trust me, I wanted to hit more than one of those idiots in the head with something big. Preferably a shovel,” Moretti said, his tone thoughtful.

“Nivad,” Mark said, getting the man back on track. Dealing with the generals and higher echelons of the EMF had made Moretti appreciate the Troopers and their straightforward ways. It had also given him an interesting ability to express his growing annoyance with idiots and know-nothing generals and captains turned politicians, who shouldn’t be in charge of a garbage chute, unless they put themselves into it.

Moretti looked around and turned on his noise canceler.

“He’s fighting a war on all sides. Harmony coming here makes him look weak. He needs to solidify his position. Showing that he has the EMF firmly on his side will go a long way to make sure that someone else doesn’t start getting ideas about cashing in their political chips and the generals they’ve been buying to go against Nivad. If we don’t show that Nivad has a grip on the EMF and the EHC, then we won’t be just facing the Slums gangs and Harmony, we’ll be dealing with the personal guards of the most powerful corporations in known existence,” Moretti said, becoming serious.

“What does he need?” Mark asked.

“Just wants you to go to a dinner with him where you’ll be wined and dined and generally shown off to make the EMF and Nivad look good. Then he wants to have a talk with you. There will be other Troopers that are going to different events, but this will be the biggest and it is just one thing. You pull it off, and then you go back to running your Division.”

“I don’t know how to do parties or crap with higher-ups,” Mark growled.

“Give me some credit, I don’t try sniffing vacuum. I’ll be in your ear the entire time, direct feed through a wearable, and your implants. It’ll be like on a mission, but micromanaging the shit out of you. Just so we’re on the same page, this is a battlefield like any other. Fuck, dinner parties have caused more bloodshed than anything else in the human race.”

“Why do you say that?”

“With several different kinds of cutlery to eat food who wouldn’t snap? And there’s all those weapons right at your fingertips,” Moretti said with a smile.

Mark laughed, spitting into his bottle. “Alright, I’ll go to this dinner thing and talk to him. I warn you that I give no promises I won’t try to use the cutlery to end my own suffering.”

“Thanks,” Moretti said, his anxiousness falling away.

“No worries, you’re one of us, I’m happy to do you a favor,” Mark said, holding Moretti’s eyes.

“You big softie.” Moretti tapped Mark’s back.

Mark laughed and they looked down at Earth, the sight blocked out as the arms of Resolute Station came into view.

“I was able to find out some more information on the Westerly Three Complex,” Moretti said, his voice serious.

“How bad?” Mark asked.

“Drugs - the bad ones - slavery, not any of the good stuff, even some of the corporations are getting annoyed with them. The leader is a pig who cares nothing about the gang. He’s drug-addled and useless.”

“Why are they still in power?”

“She’s half metal and she’s not light on the whole killing off your enemies, or worse,” Moretti said.

Mark spat into the bottle, anger making his back twitch and warmth spread through him. “Quentin Richter made that gang to give us the best chance in the EMF, and we survived because of him. He was a mediator, and he tried to do something good for the Slums. Sure, it was violent, but he got rid of the slavery and the bullshit that made the Slums a shit hole. He wasn’t the best of men, but he tried.”

“What are you going to do?”

“We’re going to reform Westerly Three Complex,” Mark said, holding Moretti’s eyes.

“It would be easier to band together with some of the other gangs.”

“It would, but the Westerly Three’s are in position across Earth. Plus, I don’t have space on my duster for another patch,” Mark said, turning to Resolute, his mind made up.

“Alright, then you’re going to have to get to know the rivals and the rest,” Moretti sighed.

Mark looked at him in surprise.

“Shut up, I’m not going to let you go in there without knowing a damned thing,” Moretti said.

“Thanks,” Mark said smiling through his thick wad of chew.

“Give me a cigar and I’ll get it done,” Moretti said.

“I’ll get you a box,” Mark said, falling into silence as he thought. “You know that thing I asked you to sort out in Osdal?”

“Yeah, the corporation, so that they might be able to support themselves later on instead of replying on the companies,” Moretti said.

“Well there’s a little more to it,” Mark said. He flexed his arm, and one of his blades fell into his hand. He pulled a chip from the cloth wrapping on the blade and passed it quietly to Moretti.

“Might need someone of your skills if you want to retire some time,” Mark said.

Moretti’s eyes thinned as he hid the chip in his own sleeve. Mark scratched the back of his head, and the blade slipped back into place.

“Now I have to go give a speech about not spending all your credits on hookers and booze, while also telling the others that they will get leave soon enough. You going to the briefing with Ortiz?” Mark started walking away from the observatory’s view screen.

“Yeah, everyone ranked captain and above is supposed to be there.”

“Regular circus, though their Troopers seem to be the decent sort.”

“I’ve heard good things, but I’ve also heard that the Harmony ships are bigger than we thought.”

“Shit,” Mark said.

“Shit,” Moretti agreed.

Chapter 14

Tower

Earth, Sol System

11/3347

“Mark Victor has agreed to the dinner and social event,” Dalia said, looking annoyed.

“Something the matter?” Nivad asked.

“Sir, he’s a Trooper. We can just order him to do it and he would have to.”

“Yes, he would, he takes his duty very seriously, but if we have his active participation and if our agent has impressed on him the need to show that we are one united front, well, we will look all the stronger. Corporation heads might be all flare and gaudy fashion, but they have keen minds and they will know when someone is faking their interest in being there and when someone doesn’t really support us.”

“I understand.” She was still not happy with it, but she would do as she was commanded.

“Wallace, how are we looking on security?” Nivad asked.

“Well, everyone is holding their breath as the Troopers are moving into Resolute Station. Dalia can tell you this, but we’ve been broadcasting them moving around the station in their Powered Armor, arming and reloading themselves. It makes for quite a sight. There have also been re-runs of various people and groups that have been in combat. It’s serving to make people wary.” Wallace sat down next to Dalia and lit a cigarette.

“Good, and the Slums?” Nivad asked.

“They are tense; it looks like there will be a gang war there some time in the future. General Ortiz is sending out feelers with his Troopers to check out their old gangs. He’s getting a good idea of what’s going on and our agent has been reporting it back to us. It is General Ortiz’s thoughts that he wants to crush any gang war before Harmony arrives. Fight one enemy instead of two,” Wallace said.

“Good, how are the media outlets treating the Troopers?” Nivad looked at Dalia.

“They are welcoming them back like conquering heroes. We have had many attempts by people to access the Troopers’ communications systems and try to get comments from various people,” Dalia said.

“Has the security net held?” Nivad knew that Harmony would probably be listening to the media across Earth. They loved gossip. The Troopers’ arrival was big news and they were all over it.

“We’ve kept the media in the dark about a number of things, and we’re hoping that the social events will keep them focused on Mega City and the war heroes we’ll be parading around, instead of the ones that are securing Earth and preparing for its defense.”

“How long until the Powered Armor Forces are landed on Mega City?” Nivad asked.

“Within the week,” Wallace replied.

“Good, make sure they are treated well. We want them to defend this city and possibly lay down their lives for it. They’re going to be more willing to do that if we do something for them.”

“I have seen to it,” Wallace promised.

“Remember what we talked about, with regards recruiting a few of them for the ministry. They are capable men and women; there will be few like them in the coming years. It would be best if we kept them working for us, rather than the EMF,” Nivad said.

“I have been studying them. I will have the suggestions after Earth is safe,” Wallace promised.

“Good, am I forgetting anything?” Nivad asked.

“The agent from Masoul will also be available for a meeting in a few weeks,” Dalia said.

“Good, keep it quiet,” Nivad said.

“The corporations are messing around with arming their people. I have been wondering if we might use some of the Troopers to instill the point that they work for us, and make certain people think about altering their plans,” Wallace said with a smile that didn’t reach his cold eyes.

“Good idea,” Nivad said, remembering to smile. It’s so tiring to mimic others, though necessary, he thought, his mind already looking at the possibilities of having the Troopers send the message.

“We should head over to the meeting,” Nivad stood.

Wallace and Dalia did so as well, bowing and leaving. They would each go their own way; making one single target was just an easy way to behead the ministry’s leadership in one blow.

Chapter 15

Resolute Station

Earth, Sol System

11/3347

“Well this ain’t bad,” Tyler said as he walked around Ortiz’s room. It looked like an entire apartment floor with a bath the size of a small pool, a kitchen with a chef, entertainment rooms, a bed that a whole section of Powered Armor could get lost in and an office with the kind of gadgets that people in the Slums couldn’t even dream of.

The chef had been dismissed and, from the look of the couch, Ortiz hadn’t been getting lost in his bed much.

Ortiz snorted. “It might not be bad, but it’s about as useless as a vacuum cleaner in space. The fuck do I need a shiatsu massaging bed that acts more like a freaking bouncy castle than an actual bed?” Ortiz asked.

“To... play... in?” Tyler asked.

Ortiz’s eyes thinned. “I am not going to play in my bed.”

“You know, to each their own I guess,” Tyler shrugged.

Ortiz held his head in his hand, sighing, though Tyler could see the smile on his leader’s face. The man was stressed out, a few jokes would do him some good.

“You coming out this weekend? Gonna go get some drinks and see what an ass Mark makes of himself.”

“I have...” Ortiz started.

“We have fourteen months and you look like a paper bag that’s been used for a dozen people hyperventilating,” Tyler interjected.

“Tyler,” Ortiz looked tired.

“You don’t, and me and Jerome will haul your shiatsu, how ever the fuck do you say that, ass out.”

Ortiz must have seen Tyler’s resolution to get him out of his living quarters and Resolute’s command center. That, or he kind of wanted to go have some fun. “Alright,” he agreed.

“Good! Now, what did you want me here to talk about?” Tyler asked.

A sound canceler went on and Tyler’s smile fell away.

“I need to know if Mark is good, after Osdal he took a right bender. I need to know how he is,” Ortiz said, worried as a friend and as a commander.

“I want to say that he’s fine, but I’m not sure,” Tyler leaned on the planning table between them. “He will carry out his duty, of that I have no question. He hides it, but he’s all screwed up inside. He wants to protect us all and will do everything to see that through, though Osdal and the war has shown him that he simply can’t sometimes. Once he defeats Harmony, I don’t think he can be a Trooper anymore. He got too close to the colonists. Honestly, I think I did too. I think we all did,” Tyler admitted.

“Mark’s an angry man, and I need to know he has it under control.”

“He’s close to the brink. If he loses too many people, you’re going to have to sedate him and pull him back. I’ve seen Mark snap a few times. He stops caring about himself, stops caring about anything but revenge. Though he’s been like that forever.”

Ortiz rubbed the bridge of his nose.

Tyler didn’t envy Ortiz at all.

***

General Jones watched the four-man team enter his office. Two posted up at the doors, the other two moved to the seats in front of his table.

“You understand your targets?” Jones asked.

“The Victors.”

“Good. I want you to kill them in battle. Then, when it’s all over, I want you to bring Mark Victor to me.”

The assassins nodded. One held out a hand, and Jones passed over a credit chit.

“Good doing business with you, general,” the one taking the credit stick said, the token disappearing into his wrappings as they left the room.

General Jones had been relegated to a nobody who didn’t even have control of his own staff. Since Fernix, he had been left in his living quarters and told to not fuck anything else up.

Ortiz, the piece of shit, had taken his position. The Victors, who should have given Jones credit for the exploits for living on his carrier and then taking his gear and weapons to Fearless, had taken their glory and rubbed it in his face.

He should have been the one getting medals and being invited to parties with corporation heads. They were Slummers, nothing more. Jones had come from an educated and well-placed higher echelon Corporation Officer Family.

He had held in his outrage, kept it to himself, and built up his power base. When it was announced that they would be heading for Earth, Jones had barely contained his joy.

Mega City was his home. His contacts there would be more than capable of removing the Victors that had been a thorn in his side for so long.

It will also do well to put Ortiz into his place and let the accolades go to his better, Jones thought with disgust.

Chapter 16

Dourven’s Bar

Earth, Sol System

11/3347

“This is not a good idea,” Olly said. Mark was looking out of the small opening that allowed him to see the various Greenhouse managers that filled the bar’s underground complex. It was wall to wall with people. They had expanded a lot in the passing years, and they were not happy to be summoned to a meeting.

The fact that a representative of the Westerly Three Complex gang didn’t know what the hell was going on was just making them more agitated and annoyed.

If they were in gangs then they might have left sensing a trap. They were Greenhouse managers, which meant that no one was going to trust them. They fought among themselves, but you did not attack someone that worked in a Greenhouse. If you did, then you weren’t going to eat anything but the crap that came from the cities for the rest of your life.

The gangs sure as hell didn’t mess with them; they were the power in the Slums.

“It will be fine boy.” Mark assured him. He wore a robe and a mask so he could walk through the red-dust sandstorms of Earth.

Olly had been with him in the Westerly Three Complex Gang. He was a capable boy who had grown into a man. He was a sergeant now, like his friend Kal, who was acting as security on the excursion.

Mark knew about the Combat Shuttle of Powered Armor that was loaded up and ready on the citadel’s landing pads.

Olly sighed, knowing he wouldn’t get through his obstinate leader’s head. “Stubborn bastard,” he muttered.

Mark grinned as he moved for the entrance that would lead him into the basement.

The bartender gave him and his two guards a nod as they walked past. Guards in the room checked them over, but continued to focus on what was going on outside of the bar.

Kal and Olly went first, and conversations stopped as Mark reached the bottom of the stairs.

“Who the hell are you?” someone called out as he started walking to the front of the room.

Kal stayed at the stairs and Mark activated a noise canceler while Olly looked around for threats.

Mark pulled down his hood and pulled his mask off.

“Diablo,” someone said.

“He’s been dead for years, died with Quentin,” someone else said.

The W3C representative and his party looked concerned.

“You know who I am,” Mark said, looking around.

There were a few nods and a general murmur of discussion.

“I am Mark Victor, of Earth’s Military Forces, and I am the ‘tax collector’ as some of you say.”

This made the room’s volume rise.

“Prove it!” someone challenged, spitting on the ground.

Mark pulled out a holographic projector, and a signed document appeared in front of everyone.

“The original managers,” someone said, almost reverently.

“What the hell is this? We are the tax collectors, for the protection of the Greenhouses!” The W3C man was getting pissed.

“The original agreement was for the seeds and information that my corporation and I gave to the Greenhouses. We did not ask for direct payment, but a small tithe of outputs. The security was thrown in to see that the Westerly Three Complex gang could provide for the Greenhouses’ needs,” Mark said.

“How can we survive with the tax hikes you’ve added?” a Greenhouse manager asked.

“I have not put in any tax hikes. We have kept to the agreement, not changing it once,” Mark said. “While we were gone, you have prospered and grown in a way that we had not imagined at all,” Mark smiled at the Greenhouse managers.

“What about these taxes, up to thirty percent?” a manager asked.

“They will be refunded to you by the Westerly Three Complex,” Mark said simply.

That sent an excited murmur through the crowd.

“We will do no such thing!” The W3C man spat.

Mark’s hand moved so quickly it was hard to notice anything had happened, except that the man was screaming as blood ran down his face.

“Go tell your boss she’d better pick up the fucking phone and get her drug-addled mind ready for a meeting,” Mark said, his eyes burning into the W3C man’s.

“Y-you’ll pay for this!” The man stumbled out, his people moving with him. Kal made way, flashing an E-12 under his cloak.

“That’s not going to go well, she’s all screwed up on crap,” one of the managers said.

“So what do you want from us?”

Mark faced the speaker. “I want stability. Harmony are coming, and you are the backbone of the Slums. I need to know what is happening there. I know that there is a war brewing, and the EMF cannot have that. We don’t want to be fighting a war on two sides.”

“Are you going to get other gangs to protect our goods and such?” another Greenhouse asked.

“If I must, then I will. Think of yourselves as under the protection of the EMF. We will not be there physically, and there might be a few issues at first, but you can rest assured that they will not last long. Does that sound suitable?” Mark asked.

They grumbled for some time, but they finally reached an agreement. They accepted the EMF’s protection and Mark re-affirmed the initial contract with them and canceled any payments that were going to the Westerlies.

“That went better than I thought,” Olly said as they pulled their cloaks and masks on. Mark left a sizable tip with the bartender and they disappeared into the dark gloom of Earth’s night time.

“I want to go and see the old compound,” Mark said.

“Okay.”

As they walked through the streets, a group of ten circled them.

“Drop your monies and we’ll kill you quick,” one said through the rags that covered his face.

“I don’t much like their tone,” Mark said, using his sub-vocals.

“Piss off and you’ll live,” Kal said, his voice level and almost bored.

“See how well you talk when I cut your dick off and shove it in your mouth,” the leader said.

Mark raised his rifle, the other two sidestepping and doing the same so they were in a triangle.

Their implants added red halos, but there was little need at this range.

Mark let out four short rapid bursts, moving from target to target. The robbers were so stunned that they had no time to react before they were cut down. Mark got hit with a shotgun, the armor under his cloak taking the impact.

In seconds it was over.

“Just a nice late-night stroll,” Olly said, his rifle disappearing into his cloak. No one cried out or yelled in the surrounding buildings. They weren’t the first to die that day and they wouldn’t be the last. Mark could hear another fight happening not even a block away.

“Let’s keep moving,” Mark said. He needed to be at Nivad’s party the next day; he didn’t have time to wage a war at the heart of Westerly Three’s home.

They continued on their way, moving to the rooftops as they found W3C’s patrols. It didn’t take long before they were looking down over the compound. They’d pulled their helmets on and locked them to their smart clothes. Even through the metallic dust storm that was kicking up they could see the compound easily. It had grown to four blocks wide.

“Look at the guards, they don’t even care what’s happening. The businesses around are all shut down when they should be working overtime,” Kal said.

“Westerly put so much pressure on them they found it easier to move than stay. Those are all drug palaces now. They just push Westerly’s shit,” Mark said.

“Looks like shit,” Olly said.

For Mark, it was hard to look at what had been his home in such disrepair. Quentin would have been up on the walls telling the guards to get new jobs with the way they lounged around. Their discipline was gone. They were bullies. Mark saw a few of them going rounds with a group of what must have been prisoners or slaves.

“Let’s get back to the citadel. We’ll be back soon enough,” Mark promised.

Chapter 17

La Monte Terrace

Earth, Sol System

12/3347

Dalia looked at the man sitting in the back of the air-car. It was clear that he didn’t want to be there, though he seemed determined to see the dinner through.

It was also clear that he hated the medals that were displayed on one side of his chest.

The car was quiet, there was nothing for them to talk about as she looked out over Mega City passing below them. Just by looking at Mark Victor you could tell he was a dangerous man. This close to him and his massive frame, it was easy to feel small and scared.

Dalia was wary but she had her own mission. Every dinner was a battle, but this one would be one of the biggest and most important before Harmony showed up.

“You have been given the full briefing?” she asked.

“Yes ma’am. Your agent will make sure I don’t fuck up too bad,” Mark said, tapping his head.

She closed her eyes at the cuss words, centering herself against the crass and easy manner in which he’d used them.

“Good,” she said as La Monte Terrace came into view. It was on one of the largest towers, an entire five floor restaurant and conference area where only the most exclusive of parties were held. Hosting a party here for a night cost the equivalent of a complete EMFC and its accompanying Combat Shuttles and personnel.

They landed, and guards moved around their air-car. One opened the door, and Mark stepped out extending a hand for Dalia to grab. She took it, smiling for the cameras and other important people.

Mark even gave her a smile, but the twitch of his eyes told her that he was looking for threats.

She had met a good many people in her time, but few were as dangerous as Mark.

She was surprised at how gentle he was, knowing full well he could crush her hand in his grip.

He tucked her arm into the crook of his, smiling as they moved. A true smile broke through as she looked at him and the people that were looking at him. He was the center of attention, and she was on his arm.

He’s also handsome in a rugged sort of way, she thought. She wasn’t worrying about the night too much.

***

Mark stuck to juice as he was wheeled around by Dalia, meeting people, shaking hands.

“Alright, Nivad’s making his entrance. Be ready to meet him,” Moretti said through Mark’s implants.

“What is he, some damned prized horse?” Mark asked.

“Nope, but you are, just so’s you know, looking like you got kicked by one.”

Mark rolled his eyes. Moretti had been doing his best to keep his mind off the party. He also seemed pretty nervous, so Mark was on his best behavior to make sure that this thing didn’t fail.

Mark’s eyes caught something; decades of fighting in the Slums and for the EMF had made him trust his instincts, and something told him to look closer in the corner of his eye.

He turned and looked, finding a woman. She was calm, but her hand was in her purse as she looked and waited for Nivad to make it through the entrance and into the actual party.

Mark, who still had Dalia attached to him, moved with her. She looked up at him for a second, but settled in, letting him guide her.

She was good-looking, and even Mark was surprised by Dalia’s beauty. In a room filled with supermodels and plastic people, she still stood a bit higher because of her lack of alteration.

He would have been nervous around such a pretty woman just a few years ago, but now he didn’t bat an eyelid. War had numbed him to her.

“What you got?” Moretti asked, noticing he wasn’t following the plan.

“Hunch,” Mark said simply as they were intercepted by someone. Dalia talked to them and Mark contributed himself as Moretti told him to, a pinch or gesture from Dalia getting more out of him.

Out of the corner of his eye he watched the lady moving to see the entrance better. Nivad was just halfway through the people greeting him.

He was smiling and greeting people like they were long-lost friends, with an atmosphere about him of acceptance and joviality.

Mark sensed it was as fake as most of the people there.

Dalia excused them again and Mark continued to walk.

“We have to go see Nivad,” Dalia said.

“One second,” Mark said, feeling her tense at his side.

“You work for...” Dalia started but Mark tuned her out as the woman he’d been watching pulled out a grenade.

Mark’s augments went full blast, and in seconds and he was moving. Time seemed to slow as the drugs sped Mark up. Free of Dalia, his right hand flicked down, a blade in it.

He grabbed the lady’s hand with the grenade in it, and she looked shocked as his face hammered into hers. He felt her hard fake nose break against his forehead, and blood poured down.

She shrieked and people moved out of the way as Mark twisted the woman’s arm behind her back and put a knee between her shoulder blades. His left arm held the grenade hand, the other pressed a blade next to her face.

“Let it go,” Mark said, almost conversationally.

The woman was crying and making noises as she let go. Mark checked the grenade, then tucked it into his leg pocket. People began moving around him as he patted the woman over, looking for other weapons.

“Lower your weapons,” Nivad Selvra’s voice was calm as he waved the guns from around Mark to be pointed somewhere else. “Major, my people will take her to be questioned.”

“Yes, sir,” Mark said, looking to a security guard in fancy Powered Armor. They took the woman’s arms and tied them up. Mark stepped back and the security guards went about securing the would-be attacker.

“Could we have the grenade?” another asked, and Mark passed it to them.

It’s a damn grenade, don’t piss yourself, Mark thought, seeing the scared look on their face. They likely hadn’t ever used one, so they probably thought it could take out the entire floor.

“The famous Mark Victor; it is good to see you; I wish it was not over someone with a grenade. But once again, you have saved us against enemies both foreign and domestic,” Nivad said.

Mark felt that he wasn’t talking to just him. He also noticed Nivad didn’t seem to care about the woman’s blood on his forehead or chest.

“I was only doing my duty,” Mark said. If he had let the woman detonate the grenade, then Nivad would have gone up, and Moretti had shown him just how influential Nivad had been in letting the Troopers do their damned jobs and telling the politicking officers to go shove it.

“Of course,” Nivad said with a big smile.

Dalia came back to Mark’s side.

“Are you okay?” Mark’s asked her.

“Perfectly fine, much better than I might have been,” she smiled, looking shaky. Mark didn’t miss the look that she gave Nivad. He didn’t understand it, and he wished that he was anywhere but at the damn dinner.

“Well done, saved the head of the Ministry of Intelligence, and his second, and you made the EMF look like the iron fist it needs to be,” Moretti said through the implants.

“Thanks,” Mark sub-vocalized back.

“Fuck, I’m just happy that you didn’t get hurt, you okay?” Moretti asked seriously.

“Bit bloody but okay,” Mark assured him.

“There’s a bathroom over there, let’s get the blood off of you,” Dalia said, guiding Mark away from the press of people.

“We will have to talk Mark,” Nivad said, smiling before turning to others. The woman was getting hauled off and a crew was already cleaning the floor. Anyone who was anyone moved with Nivad as he headed for the large elevators that would take them up to the higher floors.

Dalia guided Mark to the washroom, and they cleaned the blood off Mark’s head, smart clothes and his rack of medals.

He’d never really cared for the medals.

Now at least they show the blood that was shared by those that died while I got these useless pieces of metal.

Instead of making them cleaner Dalia seemed to smudge the blood everywhere. Mark tried to clean it off but she stopped him. “Let’s go and mingle, not a word to anyone,” she said looking at Mark.

“Yes ma’am,” Mark said. Keeping all the other names he wanted to say in his mind.

“Wow that’s kind of fucked up to use it as PR. Not saying I wouldn’t use it as well,” Moretti said through Mark’s implants.

“Shut up and make sure there’s no recording,” Mark sub-vocalized, opening the door for Dalia.

“Never happened,” Moretti assured him.

Fucking dinners, Mark thought, as Dalia held the crook of his arm. He looked at her again, then away.

Chapter 18

Westerly Complex, Sector Three

Earth, Sol System

12/3347

George watched as Jamal walked into Mistress Pulonia’s office, in the tallest building of the Westerly Three Complex’s Compound.

“What happened, Jamal?” Pulonia asked from her place on the cushions, her voice as hazy as the drug filled room. The leader of the W3Cs was as naked as the day she was born, with someone's head between her legs.

“Some bastard who called himself Diablo attacked me,” Jamal said, his dark skin getting darker with anger.

George looked at the cut for what it was, a bare scrape. If someone had done it on purpose, then they were good with a blade. He’d been in enough fights to know when someone was making a statement as opposed to when they had actually tried to kill you.

“What are you doing here then?” Pulonia said, someone presenting her with a thin smoking device. Pulonia breathed from it, fondling the woman offering it to her absently.

“I am reporting the meeting,” Jamal said.

“Take that tone and I’ll have your knees broken,” Pulonia exhaled, her eyelids fluttering with the drug’s effects.

Jamal dropped to the floor, prostrating himself.

“I meant nothing by it my lady, I swear. I thought you might want to know what happened at the meeting,” Jamal said.

“Don’t assume that you can even think of what I want to know,” Pulonia’s voice would have been deadly if not for the drug-induced shake as she pulled the head of the person between her legs closer. “We will never show weakness, that was what made the old leaders fall. Go and destroy whoever attacked you. Make sure that nothing is left of their gang.”

“They looked to be from the EMF,” Jamal said into the floor.

George’s boredom fell away as he looked at Jamal.

Diablo. He remembered the name that Jamal had said as a chill ran through him and his eyes widened. He knew the tales of Diablo, the one half of the whole that was the Victor brothers, the brothers that had left for Earth’s Military Forces.

George was twenty-two, and he’d had a hard life in the Slums. As a young child the W3C gang had taken him in, and he had learned how to kill, how to fight.

They had wanted him to be strong enough to make it to the EMF. That had all changed when the older leadership had been killed off and a new leadership installed.

Anyone that wanted to go to the EMF was killed. They didn’t want to lose their capabilities, so George had stayed with the gang, not wanting to get a blade in the back.

They were one of the most powerful gangs, and Pulonia terrorized the other gangs and put her print on the Slums. Now she lived at the top of the tower. The power that she had gained had become her cage as she brought the gang down with her.

George used to fight for something, but with Pulonia it had all come crumbling down.

He’d forgotten his dream to escape into the EMF, but he hadn’t forgotten the Victor brothers.

“Fucking recruiters. Make them regret ever coming to the Slums, hit them everywhere and anywhere. Send them a message. The Slums are ours, they can fuck off,” Pulonia said, deflating into the cushions, grabbing them as she rode a heady mix of ecstasy and pleasure.

“It will be done,” Jamal said, leaving quickly.

George felt his stomach drop; he had watched the old videos of the Troopers. They were not the kind of people he wanted to piss off.

But they might reward me if I tell them that an attack is coming. If they do attack Pulonia, they’ll be the only force to defeat her. If I help them they might reward me. This was gang logic, even though he knew that a part of him, the part that had wanted to join the EMF, hoped that they would include him in their ranks.

If it would clear him of the stain that was Pulonia’s rule. He was fine with that.

He was just going to have to be very careful that Pulonia or her killers heard nothing of his intentions.

Chapter 19

Citadel

Earth, Sol System

12/3347

Jerome used his implants, his helmet opening as he walked into the storage room turned armory. It had been several lifetimes since he had been in the citadel, but it hadn’t changed in the slightest. The only difference now was that he was going into the citadel itself, instead of the training grounds.

More than one person was trying to complain about the Troopers that were cluttering up the place, but some other Regiment with a few threats and a little violence had got them to shut the hell up and leave them alone.

Now they just look at us with disgust, as if it will do something.

The Troopers and the leaders of the EMF were butting heads, and it seemed that Nivad Selvra cared little. Instead of telling them to stop, he seemed content to sit back and see how things unfolded.

Jerome didn’t get the guy.

“How was the patrol?” Tyler asked, moving into the room.

“Boring as shit like normal.”

“What about the scouts?” Tyler asked in a lower tone.

“Moretti is all over, building a map and all that. We should be good to go if we need to.”

“Can’t believe how fucked up the gang got,” Tyler shook his head.

“They had too much of a good thing, too fast. It also sounds like this new leadership came in from another gang when Quentin was gone and took out the old leadership, putting themselves on top.” Jerome stepped into a charger and opened the rest of his armor. “How’d the outposts go? Heard there was trouble.”

“Yeah, looks like the old gang didn’t like Mark dictating terms to them. They hit another outpost we were making in their area. The Troopers were pretty beat up. The gang members left them for dead, stole everything they could get their hands on in ten minutes. Stripped the armor off our Troopers as well.”

“Were they using the Slum guns we bought?” Jerome asked.

“Yeah, good idea using the Slum guns instead of the E-12s and that hardware.”

“Didn’t want some asshole running around with an auto-launcher,” Jerome said. “What do you think Mark’s going to do?”

“He’s talking to Nivad right now. I’m going to take a section or so. I’m going to tell one of the Westerly gang outposts to surrender, if they don’t, then we move in and clear the place out,” Tyler said simply. It might have been his gang at one point, but the EMF was his family now.

“Then what? They’re just going to do it more.”

“Three attacks, they do two more. Mark’s going to talk to them. We’ll be taking both of our Divisions and seeing how they like to fight a real battle. Either they become ours, or we destroy them,” Tyler said simply.

“You get more like your brother every day,” Jerome sighed, walking away from the armories.

“Thanks, bro,” Tyler said smiling.

“Jackass,” Jerome growled.

“Dick,” Tyler fired back.

“Poster boy.”

“Thanks, you think so? I’m trying this new cologne, called I-almost-smell-like-sweaty-ballsack. Basically I take a shower and stick myself in a Powered Armor can. Though it does smell like you went for the full I-am-a-sweaty-ballsack version,” Tyler smiled.

“I hate you at times,” Jerome said, shaking his head.

“Heard you had a new girlfriend,” Tyler provoked.

“How fucking bored are you?” Jerome asked, looking at his major. He quickly looked away from Tyler’s expression. “Never mind, forgot I ever asked.”

“I need you to check on the scouts in the eastern sectors,” Tyler said.

“Why can’t you do it?”

“Cause I got some stupid meeting shit with the dumb twats that work here.”

Someone made a scoffing noise; Jerome guessed it was their best attempt to show their anger.

“You, fuck off,” Jerome said, pointing to the piss-stain that had made the noise.

They looked like they were about to say something as Tyler tapped his pistol.

“Some people, no fucking manners,” Jerome shook his head as piss-stain ran off.

Tyler and Jerome looked at one another for maybe a whole second before they laughed and continued on their walk.

***

“So what do you want?” Mark asked Nivad as they settled into an office that had been cleared out for their use.

“Straight to the point,” Nivad said, studying Mark again. Most people would shirk away from his overt gaze but Mark sat there, clearly thinking of other things that he could be spending his time on.

“How would you like to retire?” Nivad asked.

“Still quite a few years off,” Mark said, but Nivad could read people, and he could see Mark’s interest and maybe a bit of hope.

“What would you say if I offered you retirement after you defeat Harmony?”

“What’s in it for you?”

“Makes me look good and keeps people in line,” Nivad smirked.

“Am I one of those people?”

“Yes,” Nivad said simply.

“Why?” Mark said, sounding tired and almost like he didn’t want to hear the answer, but he needed to.

“You are a war hero, you’re someone that the rest of the EHC can look up to and show that we’re one great entity,” Nivad said.

He is rather interesting, Nivad thought. He had been a fighter, a tool through the screens over the years, but here in front of Nivad, he was a curiosity.

“What about my family?” Mark asked.

“All of the Victors will be offered the same deal.”

“What about the Troopers that survive this? Would they be able to get honorable discharges if they want?” Mark asked.

What angle are you working? Nivad wondered, but nodded. “Yes, but they would need to confirm employment somewhere else, and they would not be given their retirement package,” Nivad said.

“What do we have to do?”

“Nothing, just stay out of the way, maybe attend something here or there.”

“Do you have anything else you would like to discuss?” Mark asked.

“It would be agreeable if you and your Troopers were to take over Westerly Three Complex’s position. I hope that we can attend to our own matters,” Nivad said.

“I stay out of your life and you watch mine to make sure I’m not being an idiot and going against the corporations,” Mark confirmed.

“I think we have an agreement.”

“I’ve fought for the corporations long enough, as long as I’m out of the way then they’re happy. Mess up the balance and everyone’s pissed. It might not be a nice balance, but it works,” Mark said.

“Certainly,” Nivad smiled.

“If you will excuse me, I’ll see that the Westerly gang is fixed,” Mark said with finality, standing.

“It’s good that we had the chance to clear the air. I will make sure that the EMF’s obstacles are removed from their path,” Nivad said, holding out a hand to Mark.

They shook.

“Thank you Mister Selvra,” Mark said sincerely.

Chapter 20

Westerly Complex, Sector Three

Earth, Sol System

2/3348

Tyler looked at the boy in front of him.

When in the hell did twenty count as boy?

“You sure about this?” Tyler asked.

“Yes, Pulonia wants Diablo to meet her and then her men will, well…” George said trailing off into silence.

“Kill him,” Dashtund said.

“Yeah,” George said, uncomfortable.

“Strike three,” Dashtund looked to Tyler.

“’Bout time, I hate this fucking about.” Tyler nodded to George. “Make sure that your people are ready, I’ll contact you.”

“Sir,” George said, standing and leaving.

Tyler stood, pulling his goggles and mask on. Dashtund and half the section that was their protection detail also stood. The patrons looked away; none of them would say a thing.

A Trooper opened the door and Tyler walked out. The scouts outside hid on rooftops or in alleyways, you wouldn’t even know that they were there.

As Tyler moved out, someone fired at them and reactions took over. Dusters were thrown away as Troopers returned fire. They weren’t using Slum weaponry, they had Powered Armor killing weapons.

Tyler ripped off his stupid coverings and pulled on his helmet, and tactical information overlaid his view as he pulled his E-12 around.

He fired on the gang members, and in seconds the attackers were dead, hundreds of rounds ripping into their cover.

“Transport coming in,” Dashtund said, his duster on the ground as his armor plates were revealed. People had cleared the area in a hurry.

A Combat Shuttle descended out of the heavens, its engines blowing rust dust out of its path, and Troopers piled into the cargo hold.

Chapter 21

Citadel

Earth, Sol System

2/3348

Jerome looked up from the table, and Ortiz and all of Tyler and Mark’s officers turned as Tyler walked into the conference room that had become the Troopers’ command center.

“I miss anything?” Tyler asked, rust dust falling off him.

“We’re going in tonight,” Mark said.

“Third strike?” Tyler asked.

“Third strike,” Mark confirmed.

“We will go with the plan that we’ve already worked up. Tyler, your division will secure the perimeter. Mark’s will secure the compound. Powered Armor is authorized. Shultz has his Force preparing, so they’ll be our eyes and ears in the Slums,” Ortiz said.

“Let’s go take over a gang,” Essa said.

“Fuck, they said that I would learn going out into the universe, but here I am taking over a gang,” Dashtund said.

Mark smiled but looked at the map. He’d never thought that he would have to do this, but the Westerly gang had gone too far and tried to kill his people.

The universe might have changed, but Mark’s people… he trusted them like gravity.

Jerome clapped a hand on Mark’s shoulder. “Time to suit up.”

“Yeah,” Mark said, standing as if the very act aged him.

Chapter 22

Combat Shuttle Four-Two-Seven

Earth, Sol System

2/3348

“Move in,” Mark said in Yu’s headset. He looked at Young and applied more thrust, banking towards the target compound.

“Good to go,” Young said.

“Locked and loaded,” Bobbie confirmed.

“Three minutes to target,” Yu heard Powered Armor standing as Repulsors were cocked.

“Ready to bring the pain,” Second Lieutenant Fali said.

“Fucking-A.” Yu watched his screens; a Regiment’s worth of Powered Armor was coming in on Combat Shuttles. Symbols converged around the target compound. Powered Armor was already walking out of the various stores around the place.

“Support, this is Wolf Regiment, need a door,” someone said, a marker showing on the map.

“Wolf Regiment this is Four-Two-Seven, we see the target one door coming up,” Young said calmly as a missile raced out of its tube.

Gang members that had been firing at Troopers from the walls ran for wherever they thought there was better cover.

Other missiles hammered the walls. Sheet metal and rust brick walls blew out, making Powered Armor-sized holes in the compound’s protective walls.

Yu banked the shuttle, cutting off his speed as his engines brought him into a hover above the compound’s buildings.

Wind whipped through the cargo hold as Yu felt the Troopers jumping out the rear. He could hear someone shouting at the Westerly gang to surrender on demand.

“Good,” Bobbie said, and the auto-turret below the nose of the craft fired as Yu put some power into the Combat Shuttle’s engines, taking them out of a hover and sending them away from the compound.

The cargo ramp closed. Bobbie and Young worked the auto-turrets, providing support as Yu flew a path around the compound.

It wasn’t long until the auto-turrets went quiet, there was too much risk of hitting Troopers instead of Westerly gang members that were fighting back.

“The hell’s that?” Yu asked, pointing to the new symbol on his screen.

“Oh, that’s prisoners,” Young said.

“Oh,” Yu said, they never usually took prisoners. They were Troopers, raining pain and death on any that opposed them. There were no prisoners, there were just combatants and dead combatants.

Chapter 23

Westerly Complex, Sector Three

Earth, Sol System

2/3348

Mark walked through the main gate of the compound. Inside it looked like hell, and the walls were pitted from being shot up. Windows and doorways had been pulled apart by Troopers smashing through them in their Powered Armor.

There were Westerly gang members all over the place, their faces covered in the rust dust as Troopers watched over them.

Mark looked over the Troopers and the markings.

“Impressive,” Dominguez said.

“Yeah, we got a good bunch,” Mark said. “Not a single person dead.”

“Well, on our side,” Dominguez amended.

“The only side that counts. After this we’ll find out if we’ve got some new meat. Till then, it’s just us,” Mark said.

“Same old,” Dominguez agreed as they walked to the elevator in the main building, riding it up to the tenth floor.

There were bodies all over the place. Walls were charred and torn up from Repulsor fire. Casings littered the hall as Mark moved through it all. He walked through a low doorway, ripping it apart even more as he stepped into the main office.

Richter’s office, he thought, looking around the room. He had been brought here the very first day he joined the W3C. He’d been here once a week or more thereafter, as he got told off or was taught something new. It was here that he had been given his very first augments. He turned to the conference room. It had been turned into some kind of living area.

It was so similar but different.

Sitting at the desk was a naked woman, eyeing everyone with scorn.

There was a group of people huddled in the corner, fear written throughout their body language.

“Yule, what’s going on?” Mark asked.

“This lot are slaves, bodies, thugs… though a few of them surrendered.” A tag appeared in Mark’s vision. “And that is Pulonia, previous leader of the Westerly Three Complex Gang.”

Mark looked at the woman.

“I’ll fucking kill you all. I’ll make you wish you had never heard my name! I’ll turn you into slaves - you’ll beg for death!” Pulonia shrieked.

Mark rolled his eyes, raising his Repulsor and shooting her. There wasn’t much left of Pulonia. “Some people just don’t know when to shut the fuck up,” Mark said, opening his helmet.

“Ruined the wall,” Dominguez complained.

“Good thing we’re going to gut it,” Mark said, looking at the slaves who whimpered and avoided his gaze. “You lot are free to go, take anything from the bodies in here or in the halls. Though I want you to pass on a message.”

Eyes looked up at him hopefully; if he wanted to send a message some must survive.

“Tell the gangs that we control Westerly Three now. Tell the slavers that they have two months to release their people, or I will be coming for them. The Slums are now under Earth’s Military Forces’ control,” Mark looked at them, hoping that they would remember that. “Pass it far and wide, now go.”

They moved slowly at first and then started sprinting away, their thin and beaten bodies hunched as if they expected to be shot on their way out.

“Tyler, we’re secure here, time to hit the outposts,” Mark said, turning and leaving the room, his helmet closing.

“Moving,” Tyler replied.

“Sir, what do you want us to do?” Yule asked.

“Get all of the gang members together, strip them of weapons and such. I want to talk to them when I get back. Get some techs around here. It’s time we turned this into a real Forward Base. Move the mobile support guns in,” Mark said as he walked.

***

Tyler dropped the first guard. Seconds later, Troopers in Powered Armor were jumping over the ten-foot fence. He watched the symbols as Troopers moved quickly to secure the outpost.

They had control of the compound, all of the Greenhouses were secure, and they were quickly snapping up outposts, which were basically small copies of the compound. They were blocks or collections of buildings with some kind of perimeter.

Tyler wanted to be in the middle of it, telling his Troopers what to do and closing with the enemy. Instead, he was watching it through his helmet and scope. “Fuck, this major thing kind of sucks.”

“Yeah this division sergeant major thing’s not that fun, either. Just have to listen to the major bitching all the time,” Jerome said.

“You know what I mean,” Tyler said.

“Yeah, but soon enough we’ll have all the action we could want and more. This, this is securing our rear and our future,” Jerome reasoned.

“Yeah.” Tyler tracked a runner, his gun barked and they dove into the dirt. Tyler watched them, they weren’t moving any more.

Chapter 24

Westerly Complex, Sector Three

Earth, Sol System

3/3348

Alexis woke to an alarm. It had been three weeks since they had taken the W3C compound.

The whole place was being ripped apart and rebuilt. It would offer fire support to anything within a few hundred kilometers and have defenses that would make the camps on Fernix look like sand castles.

She stood up, pulling out the charging cable hooked to her Powered Armor.

A gang was attacking the compound; they probably thought that they were weak from just taking the place.

She checked her support assets, the Troopers on the walls were holding them back easily, their Repulsors ripping the attackers apart.

“Combat Shuttle Seven-Three-Five, I’ve got some targets, cleared weapons hot,” she said.

“Understood, coming in.”

Alexis didn’t have to wait long. Five minutes later she heard the heavy fire of a Combat Shuttle’s auto-cannons and their buzz-saw auto-turrets.

The sounds of other weapons were drowned out. The Combat Shuttle’s weapons stopped as they disappeared up into the clouds of rust.

“Permission to hunt down those running?” Another Combat Shuttle asked.

“Permission granted,” Alexis said, and she saw three more Combat Shuttles diving in and raking those that were running for their lives.

Alexis was sending a message, don’t fuck with Troopers. It might take some time to settle in, but it needed to be clear.

“Since you’re up, want to join me for lunch?” Tyler asked.

“Trying to distract me?” she yawned.

“Maybe a little, and trying to get you out of that Powered Armor,” Tyler teased.

“Maybe I’ll let you.” Alexis checked her Troopers’ positions, biting her lip. It had been too long since they’d had some alone time.

“My room’s here still, definitely worth checking out,” Tyler said.

“Better than the cell I was stuck in?” Alexis quipped.

“I’d say so,” Tyler laughed.

“Does it have a shower?”

“Yes, and it will have food as well, breakfast in bed once you finish your watch.”

“How did I get so lucky with you?” Alexis smiled.

“I’m a sucker for a girl in prison,” Tyler admitted.

“Remind me to never take you to a prison.”

“Hey, I’m a one girl kind of guy, now hurry that cute butt up and go finish off your watch. I’m going to take a nap, wake me up when you get here.”

“Sweet dreams, babe,” Alexis said.

“Thanks, cute butt, love you.”

“You’re using the ‘I love you’ to cover up for calling me cute butt, aren’t you?”

“Maybe, but it is a cute butt.”

“You’re such a guy,” Alexis sighed.

“Ehh, sue me.”

“I love you too. Now get some sleep, this cute butt will be over to see you soon enough.”

“Mmm, now we’re talking,” Tyler laughed, and Alexis could hear that he was already starting to drift into sleep.

Chapter 25

Tower

Earth, Sol System

5/3348

“The Troopers have now secured Westerly Three Complex’s assets. The other gangs have come to them and made peace, securing the Slums under our control. Outposts and forward operating bases have been set up across the Slums in order to provide support,” Wallace told Nivad.

“Good, what about the fleet?”

“They have finished any extra preparations they needed and are ready for the Harmony warships. The fighters have been loaded into their ships and they are currently training with them.”

“And the Troopers that are still on Resolute Station…?” Nivad trailed off.

“They are being moved to Earth. Now that the Slums have been secured there is more room for them to spread out. Ortiz will spread them across Earth with a reaction force of a Carrier staying with the EMFCs, and half of it on Resolute Station to be deployed anywhere.”

“It looks like we are nearly ready,” Nivad said.

“Yes, sir.”

Chapter 26

Citadel

Earth, Sol System

10/3348

Ortiz looked over the faces in the room. In front of him stood some of the hardest bastards that he’d ever had the pleasure of serving beside. For the last fourteen months, they had taken control of the Slums, created a network of informants across Earth, Mars, and the various stations, and inhabited moons and asteroid belts.

They’d fought the gangs of Earth and ripped them apart with ease.

He walked up to the podium, admiring his officers. “Now the shoe is on the other foot, it seems. For the first time in the history of the EMF, we will be defending against an enemy force. We have created our support fire bases, our outposts, laid out the informant network, and prepared ourselves for this minute since we left Fernix. It hasn’t been an easy path, but it will serve as the backbone for the coming conflict.”

Few of them had played politics before, now none of them cared about that. All they wanted to do was defeat Harmony and their Chosen.

“The Harmony Fleet has passed through the Oort cloud. They are continuing on their predicted path. Admiral Hall and his forces are waiting for the Harmony forces to pass their position. Once they are in range, then the admiral will hammer the piss out of them, and he’ll chase the hell out of them back to Earth, harassing them as much as possible. The Orbitals will do everything they can to destroy the Harmony ships. Once they start dropping Chosen, it’s our turn. These ships are nearly a kilometer and a half in length. We don’t know how many Chosen they have aboard, so let’s assume it’s twice what a normal Carrier can hold. We’re going to hit them with everything we have. We think that Mega City will be their target. We will be protecting VIPs and holding them back. The gangs will be given free reign to hit Harmony as they desire. We will hold Earth no matter what,” Ortiz said. “Harmony dies here.”

There was a noise of agreement in the room, and it was hungry and dark. Anyone hearing that who wasn’t a Trooper would have felt cold to their bones.

Ortiz and the others in the room, they knew their hunger, their want to destroy those that had killed their people. There was no payment for that except death.

***

Mark, Tyler, and what was left of the Triple Twos walked out of the briefing. They had talked to the Divisions and units that were spread out around their own and that they could support.

They had trained and prepared for this moment for nearly two years.

“Send word to Jane and George, get the word out that Harmony is coming. Pass on that we will pay for Chosen’ heads,” Mark said as they moved.

They all knew about the Victor Corporation and its reach now. They’d been a bit shocked at the empire that had been created by Jerome and Mark, but they had become a part of it, trusted by the Victors.

“I’ll see to Jane,” Jerome said. It was clear that he enjoyed talking to the people of The Yard. Mark felt that he would leave for it as soon as Nivad upheld his part of the bargain. Mark just had to make sure that they all survived.

Chapter 27

HC Tempest

Oort Cloud, Sol System

10/3348

Peter Quinn looked at the cadre of medical personnel around his chamber.

“We are in Sol,” Peter’s aide said. Peter couldn’t be bothered to remember his name.

“Good.” He waved the people away; his security detail looked alert as ever, even on their own carrier.

Peter stepped out and looked around.

That will be the last time I go into stasis.

He’d been put into cryo-stasis when he’d been shoved out to Housapel to make his name and fortune, now he was back once again.

The security detail moved with him, opening doors and making people get out of the way. Chosen were waking all across the fleet. Peter looked over the racks and racks of Chosen stepping out of their cryo-pods.

An army waiting to crush Nivad and the old order.

Peter stopped in front of Miss Choi’s pod. The medical personnel and her own female bodyguards were there.

She opened her eyes, blinking a few times, and her smile was brilliant as she looked at Peter.

“I believe we’re one step closer, my love.” She held her hand out to him.

“Indeed.” Peter helped her out of her pod, making sure she was stable before continuing on.

“This all looks quite industrious,” Choi looked at the pods and the waking soldiers.

“Soon they will secure us our victory and all thoughts of cryo-pods, soldiers, and this wasteful fighting will be behind us. We will rule Earth and Her Colonies with an iron will, ushering in a new age of competition,” Peter promised.

“I can’t wait, though if we might take a moment in your room? I’ve been asleep for too long and I’ve missed you.” Her chest pressed against his arm, her groin against his leg.

To him it had been just hours since they had gone into the cryo-pods, only hours since he had been entertaining her before their deep sleep.

He should’ve been tired after the lack of sleep that he’d had before going into cryo, awake worrying about the smallest of details.

Now, he felt like he could run races by himself.

His eyes drew together in lust, his teeth playing on his lip.

“A true gentleman never leaves his lady with unfulfilled desires.” Peter led her towards his chambers. Victory was a few short months away.

He smiled, thinking about how they'd try to barter and escape his reach.

***

Admiral Hawking was excited. He was a gruff man, and he had been promised riches and his own freighter company if he completed this final task for Minister Quinn.

“Nice and easy, there aren’t any EMF for light years,” Hawking said.

“We’re now connected to the…” the communications officer frowned.

“What is it, girl?” Hawking asked.

“We joined it and then it rejected us almost immediately.” She looked confused.

There was a rumbling through the ship.

“Sir, we have systems shutting down across the ship!” said someone, panicked.

“Shut down the feed and close off our internal systems, they must have uploaded a virus!” Hawking said.

There was a tense forty minutes as things were shut down and the engineers tried to keep their ship going, as techs worked on clearing out computer modules for even a trace of malicious code.

“Make sure that none of the other ships connect to Sol’s communication network,” Hawking ordered.

“Yes, sir, message sent.” The communications officer sounded scared and sorry.

“Take that idiot and chuck her out,” Hawking pointed to the communications officer.

Two Powered Armor Chosen, or PACs, moved to grab her, and she screamed as they tore her way from her console.

“I didn’t mean to do it! I was following orders! Please! I’ll do anything!” The woman screamed as she was hauled out of the command center by the PACs, her screams cut off by the hatch sealing behind her.

“We have no room for fuck-ups. Someone take her position,” Hawking looked around the room before slumping into his seat.

Chapter 28

EMFC Fearless

Venus, Sol System

10/3348

Admiral Hall sipped on his coffee.

“Nothing beats the real stuff,” he sighed. He hadn’t had true coffee since leaving Fernix. He was still rotated with other ship’s captains on the way back to Earth, and not having the home comfort made him rather cranky in the mornings.

He let the smirks and eye-rolls of his crew go by. They’d been together through a lot of things and they’d all got used to one another’s quirks.

“So how’d the hack go?” Hall asked.

“Well, I think the ministry types are all slapping one another on the back, but they aren’t really giving out anything,” Lieutenant Guy said.

“Makes me miss M,” Hall sighed. He missed having Moretti around, he at least gave you a straight answer and he’d helped get the fleet in order in Fernix.

“We were able to get some messages from them, and it looks like they think that they’re the only military force in Sol. They think that their ruse to get us fighting in the sphere worked and there’s no one home,” Guy added.

It was a close thing, us being actually out there. Another thing that we have Moretti to thank for.

“Good, that will make things a lot easier for us when we come and hit them right between the eyes,” Hall said.

Chapter 29

Westerly Complex, Sector Three

Earth, Sol system

11/3348

Mark looked over the new Westerly Three Complex’s compound.

The haphazard walls were gone. Entrenchments, massive reinforced blocks, and weapon turrets dominated the compound. The buildings were larger and better than before.

It had taken time, but there were a good number of people and gangs that had seen what the EMF had done and wanted in.

W3C was the biggest gang in the Slums. The new law and order.

Everything that Quentin had thought of, and more.

The W3C gang members had been trained to EMF standards, to his standards. Those that didn’t cut it were given different positions. The gang was big and they had a lot of places for non-fighters.

Mark didn’t give them EMF weapons or armor, but they had the best of anything in the Slums. The Victor Corporation saw to that.

The Greenhouses were secured and producing at terrific rates. Mark had taken what the W3C had and poured it back into the Greenhouses for the extra taxes they had been taking.

It meant that there was little alcohol, artwork, or anything fancy in the compound - it was utilitarian as hell. The Greenhouses were appeased and happy to once again be treated with respect.

Mark walked into the compound and headed to the cafeteria. The Carriers were gone, but they were still getting supplied with food from Resolute Station. The compound was a central distribution point, and Combat Shuttles rested in the new underground hangar.

Ammunition, weapons, reinforcements… all of it could be moved from the compound, or people could be pulled back to the medical facilities or rotated in for some rest.

“Close the door, will you? They're shooting people down at the bar again,” Mark said as he passed the main hall, hearing the gunshots.

“Yes, sir,” someone said, grabbing the doors and hauling them shut as Mark continued into the real compound.

“Dashtund, what are you doing?” Mark cocked his head at the captain who was lying down on a mess table.

“Checking,” Dashtund said.

“Checking what,” Mark asked.

“Ceiling’s still there,” Dashtund made it sound obvious.

“There’s an idiot born every minute,” Mark muttered.

“You must get around a lot, boss.”

“Stop listening!” Mark protested.

“Stop talking,” Dashtund smiled, having fun.

“I would beat you with this tray, but I like food too much.” Mark put the tray down as food was shovelled onto it.

Mark knew that Dashtund was just being antsy. He wouldn’t have got to his rank if he was so outspoken with most other officers.

Mark knew he was a good Trooper and leader, but he had a mouth on him when he got nervous.

“What’s new, people?” Mark sat down at the table. Alexis, Liu, Ko, Nguyen, Whyte, and Kim were hanging around the table eating or shooting the shit.

“The techs are nearly finished with the real compound,” Whyte said through a mouthful of spaghetti.

“Good.” Mark started on his food.

The compound above them was for their day-to-day activities. Training, eating, and, if they were under siege, they moved into the collection of bunkers underneath.

“The Westerlies are looking good, got a few vibra-blades, and Tyler’s got some good candidates with the higher powered rifles.” Ko didn’t look up from what he was doing on his implants.

“Jerome’s off talking to Esamai; seems she came down for a bit.”

Alexis and Mark shared a look. No one’s going to come to Earth, unless they’re ordered to, or they want to.

“My idea’s working!” Dashtund pushed himself up.

Mark smiled and ate his food. People loved to watch something, anything. The problem was that there was nothing to watch, just the markets, news, and gossip.

The Troopers watched movies, shows, and all kinds of entertainment while they were on the Carriers. Dashtund had taken that idea and put it into the bars and the other places that the Westerlies owned, and people had flooded their bars and new theatres.

Dashtund was looking to make new movies. Mark was looking to provide clubs and music. He liked old rock music, just sitting there and listening to it.

He knew people liked dancing, but they were always listening to the same songs. He was going to get people to make music, he’d pay them for it and open up a few clubs that no other gang could compete with.

No drugs, no slavery, and violence would only be needed to kick people out.

They still needed to pay back the Greenhouses and pay those that were joining them. The Victor Corporation couldn’t do it all or they’d eventually go broke.

Mark’s mind turned to business, real business, as he looked at them.

“Hall’s going to hit them in two days,” Mark looked at them. People nodded and sighed; the steely glint that entered a veteran’s eyes when they knew they’d be in the shit was there.

They sat up straighter, as if they were going to be fighting the very next day.

“We’ve trained and prepped. We’re the hunted instead of the hunters this time, but I know I speak for Ortiz and Tyler when I say we’re ready.” Mark let that settle into their minds.

“One last battle,” said Alexis leaning on the table.

“One last battle,” Mark agreed, smiling.

“Can’t believe the first time we met you nearly shot me,” Alexis said.

“I was going to shoot you, good thing you didn’t look back,” Mark said.

“Yeah,” Alexis smiled, in her own thoughts.

It’s been two hundred and twelve years since we left Earth for Sacremon. And, it feels like it.

Earth might not be home yet, but Mark had promised that he’d make it into one for his people.

Chapter 30

EMFC Fearless

Venus, Sol System

11/3348

“Flush Fighters and Combat Shuttles.” Admiral Hall didn’t dare to look away from his tactical plot showing the Harmony ships heading towards Earth.

Looks like they’re good and confident with the pace that they’re setting.

“Bring us out of Venus’s orbit, nice and easy,” Hall said.

“Coming around.” Yeltsin sounded nervous as the fleet moved as one.

“They should be seeing us in a few minutes,” Rasalov said.

“Celik?” Hall knew the status of the weapons, but his nerves were making him cautious.

“Missile batteries are prepped, rail-cannons loaded,” Celik confirmed.

“Well, let’s see what happens.” Hall tried to project confidence and ease, but felt like he was being torn up inside by his anxiety.

“All missile batteries, on my signal,” Hall said.

“Ready,” Celik called out, communicating to the entire fleet.

“Fire,” Hall said.

Missiles pumped out of the Carriers, one after another, creating sheets of missiles.

“Harmony fleet has detected us,” Rasalov said. “No fighters moving out yet.”

“All of their systems are on missile defense,” Celik added.

Hall watched and listened to the wave of information, and the Carrier’s missile bays went silent as the last allotted missile was spent. They would get just one more opportunity to use them.

The Trooper’s quarters had been removed to triple the missile capacity of the Carriers. Hall kept the remaining third in reserve, hoping that his fleet would survive long enough to use them.

The Harmony close-in defense systems were cutting down scores of the missiles, but there were thousands. Unfortunately, these Harmony ships looked to have the same precision as the fleet in Fernix. They were working together to take down the threats that were inundating their space.

“We clipped one,” Rasalov said.

Damage updates rolled down the screens. Hall knew as well as anyone that it would take a lot more than even nuclear warheads to destroy a ship that size and with all that armor.

“Target five is also holed,” Rasalov said.

“We are coming into rail-cannon range in twenty-five minutes. Combat Shuttles and fighters will be on the Harmony fleet in ten minutes,” Guy said.

“Target four is getting hammered; we have internal detonation,” Rasalov sounded like some sadistic commentator.

Hammered? Rather technical today, aren’t we Rasalov?

“Shit,” Yeltsin shook his head at the destruction.

Target three buckled and shook as nuclear warheads ripped it apart from inside. Hall’s bet was that nothing or very little organic matter was going to be left alive in the wake of those weapons.

“Focus on the other targets,” Hall continued, watching as missile after missile hammered into and through armor across the Harmony fleet.

I might have caught them off guard, but they’re still quite capable.

“Barrages are complete,” Celik said.

“Target three is out of commission, targets one, five, and four are heavily damaged. They are rotating to provide new armor. All EMFCs report one hundred percent and ready to push the battle,” Guy said.

“Fighters coming into range, still no signs of enemy fighters,” Rasalov said.

“I don’t think that they have any, if they did we would see them in target three’s wake, or out defending the carriers,” Hall said.

“Harmony fleet is firing missiles at us, seems we have them spooked,” Rasalov said.

“Sea-whizz, defenses are online and combating missile launches,” Celik said.

Millions of rounds were spat out from the Carrier fleet as they worked together to make a screen of rounds to detonate the Harmony missiles.

“Fighters and Combat Shuttles proceeding with attack.”

The Fighters and Combat Shuttles weaved through the Harmony fleet, dropping missiles and every round that they could get out of their craft, aiming for the larger breaches that the carrier’s missiles had already left.

The Shuttles and Combat Shuttles were hitting targets six to nine with everything they had, but the Carriers were relatively untouched, hiding behind the rest of the fleet.

“Target one has internal explosions,” Rasalov said. They were hitting the Harmony fleet hard, but the big ships could take a pounding.

They scraped off armor and got the occasional round into the actual Carriers, but the Carriers didn’t take it lying down. Their close-in weapon systems sprayed the small craft.

The Combat Shuttles and Fighters had been training for nearly two years. Electronic flares fired out, obscuring the CIWS’s aim.

It was the mouse against the lion.

The two forces fought for everything they were worth, but the laws of physics were the ultimate ruler. The two groups of ships passed one another, their inertia sending them in different directions, bringing the battered Harmony fleet closer to the EMF fleet.

“Five minutes until we are in carrier weapons range,” Guy said.

“Link the fleet, bring all batteries to bear, formation forward bulwark,” Hall said.

EMFC Indomitable accelerated so that it was above EMFC Fearless, and they turned along their path of acceleration, presenting their flanks to the Harmony fleet.

EMFC Justice and EMFC Oathkeeper followed their example, stacking above one another and moved beside EMFC Indomitable and EMFC Fearless. All four sides aimed right at the Harmony fleet as inertia continued to push them along their path of acceleration.

“Weapons linked,” Celik sounded tense.

“Sensors are linked,” Rasalov didn’t look away from his screens as they moved forward into the heart of the Harmony fleet.

“Fleet in formation bulwark,” Yeltsin reported.

“In range,” Celik said.

“On my command.” Hall looked out over the fleet; all of those lives that depended on him. The lives of Earth and Her Colonies. This was not what he had envisioned when he had joined the EMF. He had been one of those CO hounds, using his position to get him in good standing with the corporations.

Who knew I would turn more EMF than corporation?

“Fleet is prepared and waiting for your orders,” Guy said. The room was tense, standing on a wire, the odd calm and tension before battle. Soon they would be committed to the fight and all their thoughts would be focused on beating Harmony. It was the only way to survive.

Kill the other bastard for his beliefs before he kills you.

“Let’s show these bastards what it means to come to our home, to our citadel: fire!” Hall’s voice turned cold as his screens seemed to ignite.

His chair rocked as Fearless fired. He might not be her captain anymore, but he still thought of the old girl as his ship.

Chapter 31

HC Tempest

Venus, Sol System

11/3348

Hawking’s command center was a wreck; even his own black and red accented uniform was tarnished with fire and smoke.

People were trying to yell over it all. It was chaos, and he knew the rest of his fleet was in the same situation or worse.

They hadn’t got any information from Earth, they’d had to work on their systems to make sure that there wasn’t a single line of code from the virus left.

Hawking swore to shove whoever had made the code out of an airlock when he tracked them down. He’d taken his time in getting across Sol. There was nothing to threaten him and it would serve to create just the kind of chaos Mister Quinn wanted to take control of Earth and Her Colonies.

Well, we were wrong and the reports were wrong.

The Earth Military Forces Carriers had emerged out of Venus’s gas clouds as his fleet had been using it to slow their speed as they made for Earth.

They’d taken out two of his carriers. Righteous and Valor had been mauled. Righteous was in bits and Valor’s internal damage was worse than it looked from outside.

The engines were still working and the surviving crew were powering out of the fleet and away from the EMF as fast as possible.

Hawking had hailed them and yelled at them, but there’d been no reply. They’d claim that they couldn’t get the communication systems working or something, and Hawking couldn’t blame them. He wanted to use the Carrier to suck up the damage to the rest of the fleet. Lose one ship to keep his others in decent shape.

A light blinked on his console. Only one person could directly call him in a battle situation.

I was wondering how long it would take him.

He pressed the blinking light, opening the channel directly into his implants.

“Hawking, what the fuck is going on?!” Peter Quinn yelled in his ear.

“We were ambushed by four EMFCs that were hiding in Venus’s clouds. We have lost one carrier, another is lamed and the others have various levels of damage,” Hawking reported faithfully.

“Get this situation sorted out or I will find someone else that won’t land us in a trap,” Quinn’s threat was clear.

“Yes, sir,” Hawking said, sitting straighter in his chair.

We wouldn’t be in this situation if you had just let me continue at the highest speed directly to Earth.

Quinn closed the channel and Hawking looked at his screens. “I want all weapons systems checked and ready to fire immediately. Those Earth Carriers are coming down right through our fleet. We can hit them from both sides and hammer them. I want weapons online in four minutes.”

The command center rushed to obey their admiral. Somehow Hawking felt as if he had less control over his life than ever before.

Then the Earth’s Military Forces fleet opened fire.

I thought we were out of range for another couple of minutes!

The EMFC rail-guns were firing as one, creating a wall of depleted uranium that crossed the distance between the fleets in less than ten seconds.

Before the first volley had hit the Harmony fleet, the linked computers of the EMF fleet worked together to create the best firing solutions.

Rail-cannons the size of a Combat Shuttle hurled human-sized projectiles.

“Fire back! Fire everything we have, get those fuckers!” Hawking yelled in a panic.

“Sir, the virus!”

“I don’t give a fuck about the virus, get our ships firing back, if we survive we can worry about it! Shoot those fuckers or else we’ll all be too dead to give a fuck!” Hawking yelled, spit flying from his lips.

Tempest shook with impacts as rounds hit her forward armor, denting it or sending it flying as armor plating was ripped apart.

Valor’s engines were fighting to get the ship out of battle, they weren’t looking at the incoming volley.

The Carrier staggered like a drunk as rounds ripped into armor, and passed into open breaches.

New light flared across the screens as Valor ceased to exist.

Tempest’s guns came online and started firing at the EMFCs.

It took time; the computers were just coming online and they weren’t expecting to fire for another ten minutes.

People were out of their element and it showed.

Hawking watched the few rounds that did hit the EMFCs get absorbed or strike off a few plates of armor.

How heavily armored are these sides?

It was clear to Hawking that the EMFC’s armor was stronger than his own, judging by the way that they shrugged off his own hits.

“Have the fleet stack like the other fleet, we need to present more guns. We’re bigger than they are and we have more guns, so let’s put that to use,” Hawking said.

They closed the distance, the EMFCs were getting hit harder the closer they got. The HCs were rolling with hits, presenting their sides to bring more weapons onto the EMFCs.

The EMFC Fleet moved as one, turning so that their forward bow faced forward, making a line of ships stacked on top of one another going right through Hawking’s fleet.

“Move to mimic their actions,” Hawking yelled.

“Sir, we’ve found out what the ships are,” someone offered.

“Well?” Hawking asked impatiently.

“EMFC Justice, Oathkeeper, Indomitable and Fearless. They’re from Fernix, and it looks like they’ve been upgraded, they’ve now got weapons on both sides as well as armor.”

Hawking didn’t hear much past Fearless’ name. As a boy he had heard of Fearless fighting its way across Masoul even as it was heavily injured. It had been beside EMFC Reclaimer since the beginning of the war. Its crew had led the Fernix fleet when Admiral Zeichner nearly stopped their fleet cold.

Shit.

Hawking remembered the way that the EMFC fleet had dismantled Zeichner the second time that they had attacked. Admiral Hall had led the fleet. There was no doubt in Hawking’s mind who he was fighting.

They must have known that we were going to Sol, somehow. Otherwise they wouldn’t have made it all the way from Fernix. I wonder if they brought Troopers with them and, if so, who?

Hawking was suddenly very anxious, as Tempest rocked with hits and fired back at the EMF fleet.

He looked over the screens showing the upgraded carriers.

“They’re Targeting Resolver!” someone yelled.

Hawking watched as all of the EMFCs fired on Resolver with their weaponry.

“HC Uplifting is also being targeted!”

“Fire all remaining missiles,” Hawking ordered. They were taking out the Carrier’s armor and weapons, though it looked like the Carriers had followed EMFC Reclaimer’s tactics. Sections that should have been dead were still firing as they plowed onward. The armored juggernauts were rocking with multiple hits.

The EMFCs CIWS spun up, lines of tracers intersecting with missiles.

“They’re launching missiles!”

“Shoot them down!” Hawking yelled.

He could do nothing but watch as missiles were fired and destroyed by each side. Rail-cannons fired rounds just a few thousand kilometers away. Armor and debris were left in both fleets’ wake.

“EMFC Oathkeeper is listing,” someone said. Hawking had never taken the time to learn their names or know what they did. Now he wished he had, so he could understand who was talking and why.

“Keep hitting it, focus on it and EMFC Fearless,” Hawking snapped.

Resolver was hit by three missiles that opened room for the seven behind it. CIWS caught all but two, which buried themselves in the Carrier’s side, ripping it apart.

Missile and weapons’ fire from the EMFCs tore into the carriers as it streamed atmosphere and debris.

“Uplifting is streaming atmosphere; Resolver’s engines are offline.” The aide had barely finished talking when Resolver shattered. Her superstructure was strong, but not strong enough to handle the pounding it was getting. The Carrier came apart.

The EMFCs barely paused, switching their fire to Tempest even as their own Oathkeeper was being shredded, holes showing through the armor.

Not even the EMFC’s CIWS could handle the incoming missiles, and they staggered under multiple impacts, their armor useless as they forced their way on.

The HC fleet were doing everything they could to get away from the EMFC. They were well trained, but the combination of shock and the losses they had already sustained were taking their toll.

The EMFCs were soaking up damage and continuing on.

Die you mother fuckers, die!

A missile ripped into Fearless’s side. Armor and weapons were thrown around in the missile’s wake. Though there was no loss of atmosphere, there were no sympathetic explosions. The Carrier continued onward.

More missiles hit the EMFC fleet, more armor and weapons were blasted apart.

Still they fired back with everything they had.

There’s no atmosphere in their ships.

He understood what the EMFC fleet was now. They were armored and armed juggernauts, meant to bleed the Harmony fleet for everything they were worth. Their tactics were made to keep them engaged for as long as possible, to fight it out.

“I want the fleet to go to full acceleration,” Hawking yelled as realization dawned on him.

“Where to, sir?” one of the aides asked.

“Anywhere! Get us away from those bastards; they want to bleed us to take out our Chosen so they can’t fight on Earth. We need to get away!” Hawking’s voice was frantic.

The Harmony fleet acted as if they had been expecting the order. They split and ran as fast as their engines could carry them, still the EMFC fleet fired on them. Their missile bays must have been nearly empty as they continued to fire on the targets in closest range, pouring in their fire.

Resolver’s engines died, their flight path taking them towards Venus.

HC Karma got a hit on Oathkeeper. The carrier went up in an explosion, and there was only debris left in its wake. The other EMFCs were badly wounded, with entire sections open to space.

Their guns were still firing as they turned to face away from their line of acceleration, firing their engines to continue shooting on the Harmony fleet.

Fearless’s engines cut out and the rest of the EMFC fleet seemed to shut down too as the Harmony fleet ran from their guns.

“Plot the least-time course for Earth, get the Chosen ready to land as soon as possible,” Hawking said. He felt drained as he looked at the three carriers that had been destroyed, and Retribution, whose engines were screwed. “Send out small craft to get back any Chosen we can find on Retribution or the other scrap.”

We need them to win on Earth, or the EMF fleet will hammer us into nothing. While they can rearm and refurbish their ships, we spent half of our ammunition on rail-cannons and all of our missiles.

Hawking felt like a dark cloud had settled over him.

Chapter 32

EMFC Fearless

Venus, Sol System

11/3348

“Search for survivors, call the resupply fleet. Pull in the small craft. Get us on a least-time course for Earth. Have EMFC Indomitable remain here to gather any people they can from Oathkeeper.” Hall’s brain worked on automatic as he looked at his screens.

His command staff got to work as he rested his helmeted head on his hand, looking at the status of his three remaining Carriers and their complement of small craft.

He sent out messages and read reports, but kept glancing at the screen that was filled with the numbers of dead, wounded, and missing.

He’d taken out three, maybe four Harmony Carriers, if target seven wasn’t able to re-start their engines and pull out of their flight path for Venus.

Their resupply fleet was really just one ship with a few tethers. Big Bertha had been made by the Victor Corporation, and it had barely come out of its yard when it had been requisitioned to supply the EMFCs.

“Admiral, Big Bertha’s Captain Keller is hailing us,” Guy said.

“On screen,” Hall said.

“Admiral, we are moving to resupply. We would also like to offer any space we have for your people and your shuttles, to help with collecting EMF personnel,” the woman sitting in the freighter’s bridge said.

I wonder just where you came from, Hall thought, as something in the back of his mind recognized her as a veteran.

“Thank you, Captain Keller. We will take any and all help. Fearless and Justice need immediate resupply before we move to Earth. I will have my people contact you with their needs.”

“We’ll have it ready,” Big Bertha’s Captain Keller promised.

“Thank you, captain, now I have to look to my fleet and report to Earth.”

“Certainly, admiral, I wish you luck.”

“You too, Captain Keller.” Hall closed the channel. “Guy, get me a channel to General Ortiz.”

Now it’s in their hands whether we hold Earth or not.

Chapter 33

Citadel

Earth, Sol System

11/3348

It had been a week since the EMF and Harmony fleets had fought. EMFC Fearless and Justice were racing on their way back to Earth, fixing their craft as they went.

Tyler had spent the time checking outposts by eye, checking that Troopers were ready, cleaning their Powered Armor of Earth’s rust, and being supplied with ammunition to bolster their spirits.

The battle between the two fleets had weakened the Harmony fleet. The Carrier Retribution had been evacuated and three other Carriers lay destroyed. There were still six Harmony Carriers heading straight for Earth. All of them were filled with Chosen.

Not a single fighter craft, and minimal missiles. If they weren’t using that space for weapons, then they were using it for something else. My bet’s on Chosen.

Tyler sat down in the office that had been given over to the Troopers. They’d used the desks to make various areas, with chairs all over the place.

“How are your people looking?” Ortiz asked, smoking his cigar.

“Ready, anxious to get into the fight,” Tyler said.

Ortiz rubbed his face; he looked like he had aged decades since Fernix.

“Nothing to do but hurry up and wait,” Shultz said from his seat.

“Patience is a virtue,” Tyler said.

“Patience is not a virtue - it is a waste of time!” Dashtund objected.

“Shut up, Dashtund!” Ortiz growled. Tyler could see the small smile Ortiz hid as he pulled his cigar out of his mouth. “They need anything? Ammunition, food, supplies, batteries?”

“Stop worrying yourself, old man. Our people are as ready as they’re going to get. You taught and trained us well,” Mark said.

Ortiz made to talk again, but Mark’s raised eyebrow cut him off. Ortiz was a higher rank, but they were friends here. Mark and the others could tell when he was turning himself into a bundle of nerves.

“Being a general sucks,” Ortiz sighed.

“I bet.” Tyler was nervous, even though he was hiding it as much as possible. He knew that people, his people, would die in the coming battles. It made him want to go to every outpost and help all of them at the same time. It was impossible, and it would lead to him micromanaging the people that he had trained to work with what they had to face: the enemy.

But I’d be lying if I said I still wished I could be in complete control.

“It’s a fine balance between giving your people the room they need to do what they do, while moving the other parts around to support them and complete the mission. I wish I was a damn sergeant again,” Ortiz said.

“I think the dinosaurs were still wandering around at that time,” Shultz said.

“No dinosaurs, but Richter and Nerva were my platoon officers. I was a little shit back then, thought I knew everything, ready to piss vinegar and spit fire. I was an angry little shit wanting to kill and destroy. Those two turned me into a real Trooper instead of some Slummer,” Ortiz puffed on his cigar, his eyes unfocused as he lived through his own memories.

Tyler remembered his times with Nerva and Richter, how they’d turned him from an escaped orphan into a gangster, then into a Trooper. They’d turned him into the man that he was today. They’d seen something in him, and they’d brought it out.

Thank you for having the faith in me to train me, Tyler thought, his eyes itchy as he thought of his two mentors. He hadn’t been there when they’d died, but every day their actions motivated him to fight, to push forward and teach those that looked to him for guidance; as they had taught him he taught others.

Chapter 34

Tower

Earth, Sol System

11/3348

Nivad looked at the agent in front of him, the man had been the second in command of the Masoul Harmony

He’d been Nivad’s authority at the front of the Harmony war. He had wielded the power of the Ministry of Intelligence to great effect.

“Once the war is over, what do you want to do?” Nivad asked him.

“Retirement on Earth, preferably. I’ve had enough of fighting wars and telling the EMF what to do. I’d like a nice position within a corporation, where I can spend my time on the luxury stations,” the agent who went by ‘M’ said.

“I could offer you a position as the Head of Intelligence of a system,” Nivad said. The man was capable indeed. His records showed that.

“No offense sir, but the heads grow old and useless as their skills dwindle. There’s little rivalry up there. I like to have a bit more competition, and I won’t be having to look for people trying to buy or kill me for having someone loyal to their system instead of the ministry,” M said.

Good analytical mind. Doesn’t want to get stuck in the politics of it all.

“So are you bored of the game?” Nivad asked.

“Not so much the game, as the fighting. I have seen a good many useful resources destroyed in war,” M said.

Does he care for the Troopers and the EMF?

It would bear later thought.

“Very well. From time to time there might be assignments where I would find your skills useful. Would you be interested?” Nivad asked.

“That would be agreeable.”

If I can hook you in with the contracts, then I could turn you into one of my advisers.

There was a knock at Nivad’s door. M looked towards the door as it opened moments later.

“Ah, this is the agent I have heard so much about,” Dalia said, walking over with a smile that seemed to light up the room.

M stood, smiling as he shook her hand.

Nivad studied them. Dalia was tense about something, and M was reading her. It looked like he felt the tension she was trying so hard to hide.

“Thank you for your kind words,” M bowed slightly, smiling.

Nivad stood and came around the table, offering his hand and smiling. “I look forward to working with you in the future.”

“Me too,” M said, shaking his hand. He was nervous but also intrigued.

Interesting, definitely worth keeping him around, Nivad thought. He could do a lot with skilled and interested agents.

M took that as his dismissal and walked out of the office.

The door closed and locked behind him.

Nivad’s fake smile slipped from his lips as he looked at Dalia. “What?”

“The Victor Corporation. It’s not just a name, it’s a shell corporation. I looked at the Westerly Three Complex crew, wondering why the Troopers would take it over. They aren’t the biggest gang but they provide security for the Greenhouses, which means that they have the most power. I wondered how they had got that contract with the Greenhouses. I found out that they were both connected by a contract, which tied them to the Victor Corporation. The same corporation that The Yard and their subsidiaries are part of, and that are supporting a company out in Osdal. The Victor brothers built themselves an empire, and now it’s all coming together into one corporation.”

Impressive.

“And?” Nivad asked, moving back behind his desk.

“It’s in the top one hundred corporations, at least. I don’t even know what kind of funds they have their hands on. I’ve only scratched the surface, but they gave back a few billion to the Greenhouses from the Westerly crew like it was nothing.”

“There must be something wrong if you’re here to tell me this,” Nivad said, sitting in his chair.

“When they get all of their people out of the Troopers, then they’ll be all under one banner. An entire trained Trooper force, sitting on our doorstep.”

They wouldn’t attack us, they don’t care for the corporations and the rest of it. They want their pay and they want to get out. Sure, they might not like us, but it will take a lot for them to go from not caring to fighting. They’re tired of war. Though, if she is seeing this problem then others might too, and they’ll think that we’re weak.

Nivad sat there in thought. It was a tricky decision, but it came down to the fact that he needed to appear strong in front of the other corporations. Looking weak would mean that they might try to take him over.

“What options do we have?” Nivad asked.

“General Jones is moving ahead with a hit on the Victor brothers. If we make sure that they succeed after Harmony is defeated, then we cut off the head. Take out the leadership and let it fall apart.”

“Do it,” Nivad said.

She turned and left the room.

They would have been useful to have around, but it’s too dangerous right now. It’s a shame.

Chapter 35

Citadel

Earth, Sol System

12/3348

Decades had turned to years, then months, weeks, and days, and now it was just hours until the Harmony Carriers were in Earth’s orbit. They had picked out most of the orbitals and hit them from a distance. A few of their rounds had hit the Slums, but none of them were close to the cities or stations that were around Earth.

It looked like Moretti had predicted correctly: they wanted to take control of the system. They didn’t want to wreck it.

Or they could piss off the rich at least, Ortiz amended. Plenty of places in the Slums had been hit and the damage was heavy. Thousands were dead.

Few cared except the people in the Slums. The gangs were mobilizing and preparing. They’d been crapped on for all of their lives, and now they were getting a chance to kill those who thought of themselves as superior.

Time moved slowly as Ortiz checked all of the bases and groups of Troopers.

All air traffic had been grounded, and people were in special bunkers that had been made because of the threats. No matter what, the rich would survive. The bunkers and offices under the citadel were filled with the most affluent people in the known galaxy.

Never in a million years did I think that I would be protecting a basement full of corporation heads.

“Carriers are coming into range,” Williamson said.

“As soon as they’re in range, start hammering them with orbitals. Let’s see that we get in as many hits as possible before they find them,” Ortiz said.

Moments later the automated orbitals were firing their heavy rail-cannons at the Harmony fleet.

The cannons were much larger than anything that was on a real warship, and they ripped armor away and opened holes in the Carriers.

“We’ve got shuttles leaving the Carriers,” McPherson’s voice was tight with nerves.

“Alert the Troopers,” Ortiz sounded almost lazy.

Smart little bastards. Instead of having them come all the way and maybe lose a Carrier or two worth of soldiers, they’re dropping them off so fast that even if we do take the Carriers out they will have boots on the ground.

More orbitals came online and started firing at the Harmony ships.

Fighters that had been kept in reserve came out of the stations and hiding spots.

The shuttles weren’t very well armed. It looked like they had two articulating turrets and no missile launchers. The fighters raked them, cutting them down and doing their best to plant missiles into the open flight decks that looked identical to an EMFC’s.

Well, so that’s what we look like when we drop onto a planet. Impressive.

Droves of the shuttles were pouring out of their larger carriers, which were hunting down orbitals as soon as they started firing. The ships were badly mauled. Some of them were leaving through holes in the Carriers’ armor.

“Looks like Admiral Hall gave us something to fight after all. Damn those ships are shot up,” Ortiz’s voice was just loud enough to be heard by everyone in the command center.

“Just have to show the navy what the Troopers can do,” Williamson said.

They were old hands at getting the best from their people. Ortiz saw spines straighten and people focus on their jobs.

“They rule the skies; we rule the planet. We’ve got some payback due with interest on Oathkeeper,” Ortiz’s voice was like hammered steel.

Chapter 36

Westerly Three Compound

Earth, Sol System

12/3348

“Alright you lazy bastards! It’s time to earn your retirement!” Dominguez voice rang out through the Westerly Three Compound.

Mark smiled as he walked into the command center.

It had a big table to the rear, a hologram in the middle of the room, more tables forward of that and then a main screen. Any hint of humor disappeared as he looked at the descending Chosen craft on the big hologram that was showing Earth.

“What are we looking at for numbers?” he asked.

“One point five million,” Moretti trailed off as he read something else. “Fuck, there’s a mercenary security group making a play for Mega City.”

Mark used his implants to call up Ortiz and then threw the link to his command center’s screen.

“Mark?” Ortiz asked.

“We’re detecting security contractors moving through Mega City; they have no reason to move and aren’t contracted out to anyone on Earth,” Moretti said.

“Pass along the information, I’ll have someone find out if we have any other contractors arming up that shouldn’t be,” Ortiz sounded like he could chew through armor.

“I will continue to look,” Moretti said.

Ortiz cut the channel - he was a busy guy.

“So, Chosen; how many are we looking at?” Mark asked Moretti.

“Million and a few hundred thousand. It looks like those Carriers take three hundred thousand Troopers apiece, then they took in more from the wrecks. Hell, I’d put it around nearly two million.”

Mark nodded.

“They’re entering atmosphere,” one of the controllers said as the holographic display of Earth in the center of the room showed incoming targets.

“We need landing areas,” Mark reminded them. As soon as the Chosen were down Mark wanted to make them regret stepping on Earth.

Predicted flight paths were projected all over Earth.

Mark looked at his command table, limiting the results to the flight paths that were landing in his sector. Every group of Troopers covered a zone, and they were spread out so that they could react and attack as fast as possible. It was the first stage of their plan.

As time went on, the flight plans made the regions smaller and smaller as Chosen came down.

“Looks like some idiots went straight for Mega City,” Moretti shook his head.

Mark watched the incoming craft. They flew better than he’d hoped. The dust in Earth’s atmosphere made things annoying, but they were carrying through. Until they met Mega City’s defenses.

These were corporations headed up by the most powerful people in Earth and Her Colonies. There were threats on their life every day, and it seemed that every tower in Mega City had some kind of weapon system as they opened up on the incoming craft.

They were ripped apart by plasma, rail-guns or even normal Gatling guns like the CIWS on the Carriers.

“Well looks like they’re having a pretty rough day,” Mark smiled.

“You could say that,” Moretti agreed.

“Send it to the Troopers.”

“Sending,” Moretti punched in orders to his surface. Mark knew that, being a basic Trooper, he was a jumble of nerves. He’d linked everyone into the tactical computers, and they knew everything that was going on around them. It was a lot of information, but Mark felt it would get them focused on the battle, instead of thinking about their own doubts and fears.

“We have the first landings in the Slums.” Diego threw something at the main board and the first landing showed.

Satellites allowed them to get some imaging on the ground, but Earth’s atmosphere obscured the satellites enough that the image was messy.

“People in the Slums are running out. Batteries are coming online.”

There was a shift in image as explosions started hammering the shuttles that were landing.

For now, there’s just a few of them on the ground where we can hammer them, soon there will be too many of them coming down. Once there’s too many of them then we’re going to start having Chosen all over the damn place.

“Moretti, I leave you in command, I’ll be out in the field,” Mark said. He unsnapped his helmet from his hip and pulled it over his head.

“Look after yourself,” Moretti said.

“Just point me in the right direction. Towards the Chosen,” Mark raised his AMR and tapped it.

Moretti rolled his eyes and smiled.

“Dominguez how are we looking?” Mark found her in the hall in her basic armor, with a Repulsor in her arms.

“Ki’s Regiment is loaded up into their Powered Armor, ready if needed. Alexis and Yule have their forces spread out and ready to jump on any shuttles that start getting through our fire support,” Dominguez stopped as the compound shook.

“Well it looks like our fire support is firing,” Mark said.

“I thought it was rain,” Dominguez’s voice was dry.

“Is Dashtund rubbing off on you?” Mark sighed.

“Maybe a little bit,’ she smiled.

“That’s all I need, two Dashtund’s running around.”

“Saying I shouldn’t have kids?”

“You talked about it?” Mark asked.

“Well we haven’t not talked about it. What about you, any little Marks planned for the future?” They wandered past a group of Troopers moving around them as they stepped into an elevator.

“None planned for,” Mark said.

“Whole bunch of possibilities if we get our retirement,” Dominguez said.

“First we’re going to win.”

“We’ve got Chosen landing in our sector, we’re going to be swarmed shortly,” Moretti said in Dominguez and Mark’s ears.

“Let’s go kill some Chosen,” Dominguez’s conversational tone turned deadly.

“Time to wipe them off the map,” Mark growled, looking ahead as the elevator stopped. They entered a massive area where Troopers in everything from their basic load-outs to their Powered Armor waited in groups. Around them in every direction were tunnels that exited throughout the sectors that they were assigned to.

Chapter 37

Central Sector

Earth, Sol System

12/3348

Tyler watched the shuttles come down.

“It’s nine in the morning. It’s way too early for manslaughter,” Dashtund complained.

“I don’t think that the Chosen are going to agree with your schedule.”

“Didn’t even get to finish my eggs,” Dashtund sounded pretty put out.

“People have been killed for less,” Tyler sympathized.

“Hmm, yeah, fuck these guys, was a full fucking omelette,” Dashtund said, his voice turning darker, and Tyler knew he’d found the Trooper behind Dashtund’s jokes and bluster.

“Fire!” The platoon waiting for them fired their screamers, and the launcher’s missiles ripped through the air, tearing the shuttles apart.

Across Earth, landing zones had Troopers waiting in ambush, there were too many of the Shuttles to hit them all, but it would thin their numbers.

He checked his overview, seeing Combat Shuttles racing through Earth’s dust, using it as cover as they cut down more Shuttles.

Tyler was perched on a tall building, and he had a good line of sight over his sector. He was behind his AMR, watching as screamers ripped Shuttles apart and sent them crashing to the ground.

Others were pounded flat by artillery fire.

A landing zone was marked out, but already the Troopers, except for the Regiment that was waiting in their Powered Armor, were engaged.

Repulsors on nearby buildings opened up. Their tracers cut lines into the Shuttles. One’s engines were caught, sputtering as the craft spun before crashing into the ground in a spray of dust and Slum houses.

A few Shuttles powered their drives and tried to run away. Tyler watched the chaos, his face grim. Here and there, Chosen were getting free of their craft. Eventually they would make landfall, then the real battle would begin.

Tyler saw a Shuttle coming in unmolested as Chosen jumped from its cargo hold.

He dialed in his AMR, firing at the PACs, not giving them time to recover from their falls as round after round smashed into their armor.

Tyler didn’t see any more targets and turned back to scanning for threats. There were Chosen all over the place. Troopers were spread across Earth, trying to cover the areas around the cities. Combat Shuttles covered the other areas in between.

Chosen’ Shuttles were making it down into the unprotected areas, landing in the hundreds of thousands.

“We’re going with plan Charlie,” Ortiz said in every officer’s helmet.

It meant that he was going to push Troopers out of Mega City and the other cities, to assist the Troopers in hitting the Chosen moving forward.

“Jerome, release the scout sections,” Tyler said.

“On their way out,” Jerome said.

The scout sections were wearing normal Trooper layout, but they moved in sections or smaller groups. They were to report on the enemy and do anything possible to slow the advance of the Chosen, and harass them at every turn. They knew the Slums as well as the residents, and would turn that knowledge against them.

Everyone had been trained to be in scout sections, but these were the best of them. They would make the Chosen think that they were fighting an army with just twelve people.

“Looks like the information network is working,” Jerome sounded impressed. He hadn’t believed that the various gangs would work with them when the Chosen came calling.

“We fought them in the Slums; these bastards think they can take it over. The gangs hate it when people try to tell them to do things. We have an alliance and we own a gang. The Chosen don’t have a dog in this fight and the gangs know that we’ll pay them for every Chosen they give us,” Tyler assured him, watching as information was taken in and the maps showed Chosen all over the place.

“I’ll keep to my spaceships and docks, you deal with the gangs,” Jerome growled.

Tyler smiled before seeing an outpost was getting attacked. “Need support fire on outpost One-Echo.”

“Calling it in,” Jerome said.

“Choi, situation?” Tyler asked, connecting to the second lieutenant in control of the outpost.

“We’ve got Chosen coming in from the unprotected areas. I’m getting my people into their armor. Support fire is coming in to give us time to change over,” Choi reported.

“Good work.” Tyler cut the channel, scanning for enemies with his AMR and watching his maps as Chosen and Troopers engaged one another.

“Another day’s work.” He blew air out of his nose and found new targets. He felt his AMR ram his shoulder as he took down three Chosen, others scattering before he could do anything.

A tone told him that Alexis was calling, and he accepted it as he caught a PAC trying to run for cover.

“I love you, babe, stay safe,” Alexis said in Tyler’s ear.

“I love you too, babe, keep that cute butt safe,” Tyler rocked as he picked off another PAC at distance.

Alexis laughed, cutting the channel. Tyler smiled sadly; he’d been doing this job long enough to not make promises about staying alive. Everyone died, and most of the time there was nothing you could do about the where, how, and why.

Chapter 38

Citadel

Earth, Sol System

12/3348

Ortiz’s plan was pretty simple; he’d learned from Nivad that simple plans were the best.

The outposts would offer a fight to the Chosen, and once they were attacked by overwhelming forces they would retreat via vehicles to the next larger outpost. Forward Operating Bases had artillery that would bring support fire down onto targets marked by the outposts or scout patrols.

The bases and outposts would offer strongholds that the Chosen would have to overcome as the scouts would harass their lines.

Their job was to do everything in their power to make the Chosen’s lives hell.

It was the same job as they’d had on Fernix, except this time they were already in the enemy’s rear and they knew the ground much better than the enemy.

Everyone was using their normal gear and only using their Powered Armor in emergencies or when they were in direct contact with PACs.

The rust dust got into everything, messing up the Powered Armor’s motors and moving parts. It took time, but with all of the incoming shuttles Earth was experiencing one massive rust storm. Sight lines were down to just a few hundred feet.

With the gangs and crews providing the Troopers with enemy positions, and the sensor-sticks sown across Earth, they could see the enemy wandering around blindly.

Ortiz watched a scout section ambush a platoon of Chosen. The Chosen were shooting everywhere. Artillery landed among them, and a bloom of heat showed, and then the scout section was running away for their next target.

It had been two days since the Harmony fleet had arrived at Earth, they had dropped all of their Chosen and were still dropping supplies.

“We’ve had five more security contractors looking to arm themselves,” Williamson said.

“Have they been dealt with?” Ortiz asked, rubbing the stubble which was growing on his face.

“Went with more permanent measures, the other security contractors haven’t done a single thing since.” Williamson and Ortiz shared a look.

“Good, we don’t need them playing hooky behind our back.” Ortiz looked at the boards, the Chosen were moving to attack the outposts in force.

“How many of the bastards are on the planet?” Ortiz asked.

“One point five million,” McPherson said.

To our eight hundred thousand. Though we hold the defensive lines, control the information and know the land.

“Well, let’s see what we can do about thinning out that herd,” Ortiz said. “I want all scout sections deployed. It won’t be long until the Chosen start taking measures to counter them, so we might as well hit them when they’re unprepared. Get the Fighters ready for another flight. I want them to thin out those Harmony Shuttles more. Give the gangs information on the smallest groups of Chosen that are in their regions. We’re moving to phase two.”

Messages were sent as bases, outposts, and gangs acknowledged the information.

“Well, it looks like they’re pretty enthusiastic to get some Chosen,” Williamson looked at the main screen where gangs and crews were flooding out of their strongholds, headed for the Chosen.

“You would be too if the bastards were bombing your home without a care. The people in the Slums have been pissed on by the cities all of their lives. Now they get to tear some of those bastards apart. The kindling was already there; we’re just throwing the match in.” Ortiz watched scout sections armed with their AMRs and light armor leave their bases or emerge from their tunnels, heading for Chosen groups.

Ortiz stretched and rolled his shoulders. He looked around the room; they might have been aides but like him they were first and foremost Troopers. The old general’s staff would have been petrified to even look at armor.

They wore their ceremonial trash and decided the fate of thousands of Troopers, yet they weren’t really Troopers. Everyone in the command center was wearing their armor and weapons, and had their helmets on their hips. All of them had seen combat.

It means that they’ll push themselves harder than any old CO fop. Ortiz looked over the screens again and turned for the Powered Armor resting along the walls.

“Is it time, sir?” McPherson asked.

“Armor up, we’ll be moving to the front lines shortly. I’m not going to lead from the rear, am I?” Ortiz said.

Ortiz’s staff didn’t need to be told twice, they split off and got into their Powered Armor.

Ortiz needed to be in the command center to coordinate attacks in the beginning. But now that the Chosen forces were on the ground, the bases and outposts would be working together. There was no need for Ortiz to be up in his tower for that.

Chapter 39

Westerly Three Sector

Earth, Sol System

12/3348

“Sir, are you sure about this?” Alexis asked.

“Really, you’re sir-ing me? This doesn’t even rate on the scale of dumb ideas I’ve had,” Mark was offended.

“Damn Victors,” she sighed.

“Aren’t you one of them?” Dominguez asked.

“Exactly, can’t really say no to my big brother can I?” Alexis grinned.

“That’s my girl,” Mark smiled, tapping Alexis’s armored shoulder with his fist. “You’re in complete control, me and Dominguez are just here as watchers. We need to know how the Chosen react. There wasn’t even much fighting with the Housapel Chosen, so we have no idea if they’re Fernix good or Masoul shit.”

“Alright, if you have any suggestions, fire a message to me. Or if there’s something right messed up, react and get me into the loop as soon as possible. I’ll put you off to the left flank, we’ll be moving in five.” Alexis’ playful tone was gone.

“See you afterwards,” Mark said. Dominguez tailed him as they moved through alleyways, and people peeked out at them from their meager houses. Troopers were hidden all over the place.

“They’re looking good,” Dominguez commented.

“Yeah, the Chosen aren’t going to know what hit them. This dust is fucked.” Mark stopped, looking around a corner. His HUD was connected to the sensor-sticks that showed Chosen three hundred meters away, but nothing in between.

The residents had left, no one wanted to be in the middle of two armies.

“Think of how the Chosen are dealing with it. Their armor’s going to get messed up with all of this dust,” Dominguez said.

“Yeah, so is ours though.” Mark ran for the other alleyway, and Dominguez ran with him. A Trooper moved out of their way so they could run through a main street.

“We can clean ours though, they’re not going to have many chances to do that,” Dominguez said.

“When did you turn into a bright ray of sunshine?” Mark asked.

“Oh, I’m thinking it’s all fucked, I’m just doing my job of saying the opposite of everything you say,” Dominguez sounded like she was smiling.

“Good work DSM,” Mark tried to stop himself but a laugh escaped his lips.

“Why thank you, sir.” They arrived at the far right flank of what looked like a big L. The base of the L was to move up, dig in and fire on the Chosen’s position.

The side of the L was to sweep in from the left, flanking and clearing out the enemy position as the base of the L cut their fire so they didn’t hit the flankers.

“Move!” Alexis yelled to her Regiment. The Troopers that had been hiding behind walls and in alleys shook off the dust that had settled on them and rushed forward.

A hundred meters from the target they got behind whatever cover they could find and opened fire. Mark slammed into a house, and the rust-brick wall came apart as he landed inside.

Dominguez followed, stepping over him.

Other Troopers flowed in as Mark got to his feet.

Smooth, Mark, smooth.

They took up positions at the windows and started firing at the block that the Chosen were using as a base.

Tracers ripped into walls and the thin shelters. Screamers tore holes in walls.

The Chosen fired back, a few people here and there at first, but more and more joined in.

They had caught them off guard but in minutes the Chosen were firing back.

They’re well trained and drilled, Mark thought, knowing that it would be a problem. Fighting a mob like the Chosen on Masoul had been like grinding down the enemy. The Chosen on Fernix knew tactics and had been hell to fight. They knew how to advance properly, what cover meant, and they were disciplined.

These guys look like they take after the Fernix bastards more than the Masoul.

The flankers moved up in a line.

Mark checked his Repulsor, punching a hole in the rust-brick wall. He lay on his stomach and fired back at the Chosen.

“Get low and make murder holes; techs, I want spray-ite,” a lieutenant yelled before Mark was able to make the suggestion.

“Shit, Heavies,” Dominguez said, using the slang for Harmony Heavy Machine Guns.

Someone over there was proving that they had half a brain. The heavy guns were as powerful as an AMR, but automatic.

Walls were ripped apart; Troopers were cut down. No one let up shooting. They would tend to the wounded later. Not returning fire would mean death.

The flanking Troopers advanced. The Chosen must have had people watching the flanks, because they fired back at them. The Troopers exchanged fire. Screamers opened walls and found Heavies.

Ammunition cooked off the tracers illuminating the houses, and one apartment building came down from the punishment.

“Fuck these guys,” Dominguez said. Chosen were picking themselves up out of the crumbled apartment building, firing back at the Troopers.

“Flankers, move by sections!” Alexis yelled. They were losing momentum to shock the Chosen.

Mark fired at the Chosen, keeping their heads down to give the flankers the cover they needed as they moved forward, section covering section, one moving and one firing at all times.

“Fire support, watch for friendlies,” Alexis said as Troopers stopped firing for fear of hitting the flankers.

Mark stopped shooting as the Troopers smashed through the Chosen-controlled block, clearing houses with their Repulsors. In ten minutes it was all over.

“Get the casualties pooled together. Flankers, check the buildings in case we missed anything, destroy any weapons and ammunition. The Slums will take care of the rest,” Alexis said.

“What you thinking?” Dominguez asked as Mark stood up. The house that they were in barely had any standing walls left.

“That these bastards are better than Fernix’s Chosen.”

“Same,” Dominguez said. The fact that she wasn’t trying to argue the point made Mark fear what was to come.

“We’ve got movement through our sector,” Moretti said in Mark’s ear.

“How bad?” Mark asked.

“Regiment strength, PACs with some of their Shuttles,” Moretti said.

“Send scout sections, knock out that air support. I’ll task Alexis to ambush them. Start rotating people to get their armor cleaned up. I’m already getting warnings on my armor,” Mark checked the mild yellows showing from his Powered Armor as he threw himself to his feet.

“Scout sections are pushed out. We have the medical Combat Shuttles coming in. They can hit the Harmony ships,” Dominguez said.

“Do it.” Mark’s voice was terse, knowing that he would be adding minutes to the Shuttles, and that would mean some of the more seriously injured Troopers dying.

A landing area was being cleared as Troopers that had been left as the attack went on were patched together. In all, they’d lost twenty Troopers, and another seven were badly injured.

Chapter 40

Combat Shuttle Four-Two-Seven

Earth, Sol System

12/3348

“We have new targets before the medical run,” Young told Yu, sending him a new flight plan and targets.

“Let’s get this done quickly, those people need us,” Yu said, banking onto his target flight plan.

“Three minutes to range, Bobbie, and there are some PACs on the ground,” Yu said.

“Firing,” Bobbie’s two auto-turrets sent twin lines of tracers, which cut into Chosen advancing through Westerly Sector to Central Sector and Mega City.

“Targets! Firing!” Young called as missiles left their wing-mounted racks.

“They’re firing back!” Young said as the Combat Shuttle beeped at Yu to tell him that the enemy shuttle’s missiles had a lock. He poured in power, going to the speed of sound, ripping Slum homes apart as he climbed and fired off emergency measures. The Chosen’s tracers followed him but Bobbie was firing at the missiles following them instead of at the PACs.

“Got them!” Bobbie said.

Yu checked his cameras. Four of Young’s missiles had been destroyed, twelve had made it to their targets.

The Combat Shuttles exploded, raining wreckage across the Slums, or dropping onto their own Chosen forces.

“Westerly command center, this is Combat Shuttle Four-Two-Seven. Harmony Shuttles destroyed. Moving to medical evacuation.” Yu banked the Combat Shuttle, using his flaps and engines to fight atmosphere, slow their speed, and send them at Alexis’ Regiment.

“Understood, after this run you’re due for a clean,” the flight controller said.

Yu wanted to argue but he’d seen how Combat Shuttles failed after too long in Earth’s dust.

“Got it, make sure our next ride is ready,” Yu said.

“Will do.” The flight controller cut the channel.

“We’re switching rides after this,” Yu said.

“Was going to suggest it, the turrets are getting gritty and the ramp’s hydraulics are gummed up,” Bobbie said.

“Sometimes I miss flying in space,” Yu complained.

“I remember a time when we had the Triple Twos stacked in the cargo hold, and all you wanted to do was fly in atmosphere,” Young teased.

“Grass is always greener on the other side,” Bobbie replied.

“Coming in to landing zone, prep ramp,” Yu said, and dust billowed out around them, making his visual sensors useless. He was just using his instruments to guide himself to the ground.

Red dust whipped into the cargo hold, covering everything. Yu looked back as Troopers rushed in, grabbing their seats.

They looked like phantoms as they appeared out of nowhere.

Wounded were deposited as the medics Yu was carrying got out of their harnesses and took over from the medics on the scene.

The Troopers were well trained in medical extraction, and in a few minutes they were filled with wounded.

“Sealing up!” Bobbie said, and the wind died down as Yu powered the engines, pushing them upwards. They got out of the worst of the dust and set off for Mega City.

He pushed the engines to full power, following the route Young had made, and he only saw the occasional roof and home in the Slums as he passed over.

Then he was descending again. They touched onto a landing pad and Troopers and medical personnel moved out with the wounded. The landing pad stopped next to the underground medical facilities.

As soon as the wounded were off the landing pad they continued on, Young communicating with flight control.

Yu sat back in his seat.

They had been flying for eighteen hours. Things were getting fuzzy around the edges but the augments kept him functional and alert.

“Grab what you need, let’s see our new ride,” Yu said, shutting down all of the controls and opening up the Combat Shuttle’s armored panels. Some of them didn’t open; damage from missile hits or weapons fire were holding them closed.

Dust was already coming off the Combat Shuttle, and they stepped off the landing pad as a maintenance crew got to work, clearing the dust out of the craft, repairing, refueling, and re-arming.

In ten minutes they were in their new Shuttle, checks done, and moving out onto their landing pad.

“We’ve got a Chosen base, the commander wants us to hit them, then they’ll continue with the attack,” Young said.

“Looks like we’ve got another job. You got a flight plan?” Yu asked.

“Working on it.”

“Weapons are good, loading them up,” Bobbie said as they rose back into Earth’s dust storm.

“If this storm keeps up, Flight Control is thinking about grounding flights unless they’re coming from Mega City,” Young said.

Yu opened his helmet to make sure it wasn’t transmitting. “Next time we get recalled, make sure we go to Mega City. I don’t want to be stuck on the ground twiddling my thumbs.”

Young nodded in agreement.

Yu pushed the engines to full power and climbed into Earth's atmosphere. Flying was hell with the dust storm that was now swirling in at full force.

“With this I don’t think that we can risk any landings outside of the sector’s compound,” Yu said.

“I was thinking that might be the case, informing flight control,” Young said.

Chapter 41

Central Sector

Earth, Sol System

12/3348

Jerome moved into position to get a better look at the area that the Chosen had turned into a base. There were ten thousand Chosen soldiers in the area; the people had fled and not even the gangs were trying to attack them.

They’d destroyed the surrounding buildings by simply smashing them down with their Powered Armor.

There were Heavies all over the place and Shuttles came out of the sky, dropping off more supplies.

Jerome looked as a Trooper climbed up next to him.

“The hell are you doing?” Jerome hissed. Even though no one could hear him outside of his helmet, being so close to the enemy made him want to whisper.

“It’s like old times. Don’t tell anyone I’m here, will you?” Ortiz asked.

“Damn it, you’re supposed to be back in the citadel.”

“I’m not going to be leading my army from that shabby tower. I’m no EMF general that sits on his Carrier and moves the pieces around on his tactical board,” Ortiz growled.

Jerome sighed, knowing that there was no getting rid of the man, and knowing he’d be doing the same thing in his place.

“So, what you got?” Ortiz asked, laying beside him.

“Heavies moving into position around us; the dust storm is too heavy for the Combat Shuttles to hit them with any kind of accuracy. If the storm doesn’t clear, then we should leave them. They’re in a position of strength. If we go in there we’ll take it, but we’ll lose people we can’t get back.”

“So what are we going to do?” Ortiz asked, as if he didn’t know. Jerome knew that Ortiz, like Nerva, was testing him and seeing if the lessons had paid off.

“We leave them be, have a scout section watch them, and we hit other groups. When we don’t have any other targets, we hit them with artillery. Once the storm clears up we hit them with rockets. With Earth, the storm might last for years. There’s little to stop it,” Jerome said.

“But they need to get to Mega City if they want to complete any of their objectives. They’re going to have to move and there’s no way that they have enough food to last for years.”

“That’s why we’re putting mines all around it. If they try to leave, they’re not going to have a fun time.” Jerome sent a map to Ortiz.

“Shit, I can barely see them.” Ortiz sounded impressed. The map showed scout sections that were working their way from the area the Chosen had secured, back to the rest of the Slums, dropping mines as they went. It was painfully slow work, but when the Chosen decided to run, Tyler was planning on turning it into a nightmare.

“Tyler trained them himself,” Jerome said.

“That guy is a ghost.”

“I’m not that bad,” Tyler said, and what looked like a rock shifted beside Jerome.

“You motherfucker, you owe me new underwear!” Ortiz growled.

Jerome and Tyler laughed as they crawled backwards.

“You planned that, didn’t you?” Ortiz asked.

“Ah, well, we thought you might wander around and Tyler was bored…” Jerome tailed off.

“This is what I get for promoting smartasses,” Ortiz complained.

“Now that the Chosen are going to ground, I’m thinking that it’s time to leave the Powered Armor at home and get in there with the scout sections and artillery,” Tyler said.

“You sure love your scout sections,” Ortiz said as they moved between buildings, away from the Chosen’s area.

“Well, it’s the fastest way to make someone be scared to take a shit,” Jerome said.

“Why’s that?”

“We hit two groups first, the officers and anyone around them, then those trying to take a dump. Have them take it anywhere but the bathroom, and you start getting dysentery. We might have augments to deal with diseases and that, but these people are from Housapel. Their systems aren’t used to our viruses and the stuff that likes shit, so that’ll get them sick as hell,” Tyler explained.

“That is nasty as hell.” Ortiz sounded like he regretted asking Tyler. “If they’re already half out of the fight with sickness, then it’s all the better for us.”

“I’ve heard that their command people are down on Earth. Is that true?” Jerome asked.

“The Chosen are well trained and disciplined. Almost as good as Troopers. They’re reacting faster and banding together. I thought it might take them months to do that,” Ortiz spat into his dip bottle. “So yeah, I think there’s someone that’s pushing them ahead, hell, they might be on the Carrier still. Though I doubt it, there’s too much interference.”

“Well if you find them, I’ll put a bullet between their eyes,” Tyler offered.

“I think the most spectacular thing that came out of that hit was how Mark blew up that reactor,” Ortiz laughed.

“Come on, I killed their general and a whole bunch of their leaders. His bomb didn’t go off for like thirty minutes!” Tyler complained.

“But when it did, I never even thought of doing that,” Ortiz said.

“Well that’s easy, no one’s as crazy as Mark.”

“That sounds about it,” Ortiz agreed.

Chapter 42

Westerly Three Sector

Earth, Sol System

12/3349

General Fusaro climbed out of his Powered Armor; the entire thing was gummed up.

Fucking cesspit of a planet. Covered in rust filled dust. It’s destroying my PA. It’s only a matter of time until they’re stuck solid.

He nodded to the officers that were waiting for him in the basement of the latest rally point that his people had put together. They were sorting out their units and preparing for their push.

They had lost some of their momentum, but rushing the Troopers in unorganized was just inviting defeat. He’d brought in supplies and sent orders that all Powered Armor was to be cleaned and serviced, ready to work at one hundred percent when he needed them.

The room shook as dust fell from the ceiling.

Fusaro looked at the swinging light and the faces of his officers. They were hard men and women. They might not have fought an enemy before Earth, but he was proud of them.

Housapel and Fernix were gone. All of them wanted to avenge their families and those that had been left behind.

We need to succeed. If we don’t then the sacrifices of our families and all of the Chosen will be for nothing.

“We have come far, a long way from being the colonists that the corporations ruled over. We became an army, and now an army at the heart of the corruption of humanity. Many of us might die, but we will take down a score of the corporation’s dogs.” He spread his arms encompassing the Slums that surrounded them.

“This, this is what corporations bring to our planets. They wish to make us like those that live in the Slums. That care nothing about the gain that they might make from killing their neighbor. From their ranks, the worst murderers, rapists, and sociopaths join Earth’s Military Forces. Rely on your Chosen brothers and sisters. We will prevail against these dark forces. For now, we wait, we grow in strength, and we prepare for our attack. I promise you all, we will gain entrance to Mega City. Our enemy, while blind to their own slavery, are fighters to their core.” He looked around the room, everyone was listening.

“They have come from Fernix, they fought on the Blue Moon and killed Fernix Prime. They might be mass murderers, but they are soldiers. They are good fighters, so do not underestimate them, destroy them. We have the numbers, we have the faith, and our cause is right. No matter what, we will prevail.”

It started quietly at first, then grew as the officers took up the chant.

“We will prevail!”

It rang through the base’s corridors; it rang through the blocks that the Chosen held. Chosen charged Troopers screaming those words.

That’s all they are, words. Though hopefully it will be enough to get the most bull-headed Chosen to wait until I command them to move forward.

Chapter 43

EMFC Fearless

Earth Sol System

1/3349

Hall looked over the reports from Fearless and Justice. They had been reloading their magazines, repairing their systems and patching up the holes in their armor.

We aren’t the prettiest things at the ball, but we can damn well dance.

“Let’s do this again,” Hall said.

“Fearless and Justice are both ready and capable of combat,” Guy said from his position at communications.

Yeltsin, Rasalov, and Celik were all looking to Hall and his command team, the heart of their two ship fleet.

“We’ll go for the weakest ones first. We move from target to target. Flush out the atmosphere, we can take more of a pounding than those Harmony bastards, so let’s put an end to them,” Hall said.

They looked back to their stations, and Hall looked at Guy, his eyes narrowed. “You sent that out, didn’t you?”

“Maybe, Admiral,” Guy smiled.

“Sir, uh, it looks like the Harmony fleet is moving,” Rasalov reported.

“Where to?” Hall snapped.

“Away from Earth and not towards us, they might be trying to pull back together, but I think that they’re running,” Rasalov looked confused.

What the hell is going on?

Chapter 44

HC Tempest

Earth Sol System

1/3349

“Start bringing the fleet together, we’ll give Hall a united front and hammer his two ships into nothing,” Hawking said.

“Belay that order, get us to Mars. There are people there that we can get some security from and then come back to help out our people on Earth. I want us headed for the planet at best speed,” Peter Quinn ordered, entering the command center like he owned the place.

Hawking wanted to yell at the man, to tell him that they could defeat Hall right here, it would be costly, but he could do it, damn it!

“Yes, sir, changing course,” the communications aide said.

If Hall wanted to yell at Quinn, he wanted to rip off the aide’s head and stuff it down a garbage chute.

Hawking looked at the aides as they bent to follow Quinn’s commands.

“Will there be a problem, Admiral?” Quinn sounded almost curious. His security were sizing Hawking up, their hungry looks sending a shiver down Hawking’s spine.

“Not at all, great leader. We will carry out all orders, for the sake of Harmony!” Hawking could have been an actor for the way he hid his feelings.

This is not the man to cross when he has security and is in the public eye.

“Of course, Admiral, let me know when we will reach Mars. I will be meditating in my rooms.” Quinn turned and left.

More like screwing Miss Choi and playing with the stock markets. If I had everyone’s credits and was using it to play the system there’d be more than a dozen Choi’s jumping over me.

“Once we have a flight plan for Mars let Mister Quinn know as soon as possible,” Hawking said.

Hawking had learned two things. The Harmony devotees were blind to any of Quinn’s wrongdoings, and Hawking needed more allies. Thankfully most of the forces on the ship were mercenaries of one flavor or another.

It seemed that Quinn trusted money more than people’s morals.

And so he should; look at how he manipulated all of these sheep. Hawking stared at the command crew, barely hiding his sneer.

Chapter 45

Westerly Three Sector

Earth, Sol System

2/3349

No amount of speeches or wandering through Chosen’s bases could get them to wait much longer.

Sometimes you must know when to give an order you hate, in order to remain in control.

Fusaro looked up from the planning table to his second in command. “Baashir, send the command. We advance for Mega City.”

“Yes, sir.”

Fusaro looked back at the table.

Fools, they could have cleared out two of the three combat capable ships in the system and then provided us with orbital bombardments. Now they’re running off to Mars on Quinn’s whim.

Quinn had promised that there would be forces to rise up and support Harmony’s cause. Behind closed doors he had talked about how he had secured the services of several security contractors.

The people of the Slums might hate Harmony, but enough money could buy any kind of information. Fusaro had learned who his enemy was and that they had stopped any security contractors from even thinking about grabbing a weapon in support of Harmony.

General Ortiz and the Troopers of Reclaimer and Fearless.

His mind kept coming back to one person that hadn’t been bought, one that had worn the patch of the Westerly Three Complex Crew.

The Troopers weren’t just fighting on Earth, they controlled the Westerly Three Complex crew.

“Come on then, kill me, kill me you fuckers! I’ll be seeing you soon enough on the other side. SWAS and Diablo will see to that, they bring the Triple Twos with them. Ain’t nobody that can stand up to the Triple Twos!” The teenager had said, grinning through blood, eyes crazy and maniacal.

That had stuck with Fusaro.

He knew that look, he’d seen it on the faces of his own soldiers. It was a following, a trust and belief. If Harmony was Housapel’s calling, the Troopers were the Slum’s calling. They had come from Earth, their best and worst, and they had shown the colonies what they could do.

Earth was a fight, the strong and smart survived, the lucky ones got into Earth’s Military Forces.

And it’s my job to pull it all down. Fusaro looked at the maps.

“The army is ready to move, they are arming and preparing themselves,” Baashir said.

“Good, we want to push forward as fast as possible. We need to keep up momentum and crack these bastards. I want the colonels to have their units rotated out regularly. Have the freshest units on the front. We will group together and advance as one unit towards Mega City. I want isolated units to wait until the first groups are moving before making a push. They will join with the already moving forces. The Troopers’ first goal is to defend Mega City and the VIPs.” Fusaro stood, nodding to himself.

“As we push to Mega City then the dog’s masters will recall them to defend their lives,” Baashir said, understanding the plan.

“Exactly. When that happens it will be us with the ability to move as we please, and the Troopers will be stuck in one position, right on top of the corporation officers.” Fusaro and Baashir shared a look.

“Then we’ll have them,” Baashir’s smile was cold and ruthless. His wife and child had been killed with the missiles launched into Housapel’s atmosphere.

As they died, Baashir’s family, and everyone he knew outside of the soldiers standing beside him, were dead.

Fursaro didn’t have many attachments, but he’d been a police officer once. He’d seen that same wild smile on serial killers’ faces. Now he saw it on all too many of his soldiers’ faces.

Maybe the reports of the rapes and killings of Slum dwellers weren’t exaggerated? Fusaro clamped down on that thought.

Chapter 46

Westerly Three Sector

Earth, Sol System

2/3349

“We have movement!” Dominguez announced.

Mark rose out of his bed, pulling his helmet on and checking his rifle without conscious thought.

Dominguez threw the report at his HUD, and he looked it over.

Mark’s augments worked better than any coffee. He was awake in moments.

“Form up the Troopers, Powered Armor,” Mark sent a command out and sirens started blaring through the compound as he sent the information to his officers.

“I was getting tired of sitting around anyway,” Dominguez said, walking out of the room.

“Prepare for operations, this is not a drill, prepare for operations,” the speakers yelled as Troopers formed up, sergeants and officers yelling Troopers into line and through the armories.

It was a hive of activity, their one purpose to react and destroy the threats coming for them.

Mark pulled his helmet off, hooking it to his Powered Armor’s back. His AMR went on the right side of his ammunition pack, and he checked his blade, making sure it came free with a tug.

He pulled on armor panels making sure they were secure and functional as he checked for rust dust.

“Well, time I started getting into the fight,” Mark sighed, bowing his head as he thought of the people he had lost. He shook his head and stepped backwards into the Powered Armor.

It accepted him, closing around him. It was like he had skin a foot thick. His helmet dropped down, locking into place.

“HUD live, power good, no major issues, ammunition full, Repulsor.” He grabbed the gun hanging by his side, checking it and pulling the cocking handle. “Good to go.”

An implant control disconnected the chargers, and armor coverings closed over the ports. People moved out of his way as he walked towards the command center.

On his maps, the Chosen were moving forward in some areas. All of them were advancing in one direction, towards Mega City.

“Mark! Was wondering when you’d show up,” Moretti said.

“Situation?” Mark opened his helmet. Most people couldn’t understand the information-riddled screens in the command center. Mark was one of the few who could.

“Seems that there is someone over there giving the orders. The Chosen in close proximity to one another are moving forward with all the supplies that they can carry towards Mega City. They’re linking together. They’ll make larger and larger groups the closer they get to Mega City. Out here in Westerly we don’t have many groups to deal with. Ortiz wants us in Central Sector, bolstering their numbers. We’re to leave a Regiment behind to harass the rear of the Chosen and move the artillery pieces if the area is free,” Moretti said.

“Very well, who do you want?” Mark asked.

“Ko, he has good scout sections. I can use them to gather information from the Chosen laggers,” Moretti said.

“Good,” Mark opened a channel to his captains. “Ko, your Regiment is to stay behind to assist in harassing the Chosen’s rear and gathering information that Moretti wants. When the Chosen move out of this sector you will be moving with the artillery we have to a new point. Alexis, Yule, get your Regiments loaded up and ready to move in ten. Grab everything and anything you need. We’re going to Central Sector,” Mark said, and green lights lit up on his implants. He closed the channel.

“See you on the other side M,” Mark said, his arm opening up so his hand was free.

“Better have a Cohelean for me,” Moretti grinned, shaking his hand.

“I’ll see what I can do,” Mark smiled, putting his hand back in his armor and closing his helmet as he marched out of the room.

Chapter 47

Central Sector

Earth, Sol System

2/3349

“Push the scouts out, we need to slow the Chosen as they advance, and put our Combat Shuttles out to move people and equipment. I want all artillery at the scouts’ discretion and on the biggest pockets of Chosen coming at us,” Tyler said to Jerome and the officers standing around the table which was their command center.

“We’re going to use the defensive lines. We pull back slowly, make them pay for every inch. Don’t bring them into close combat, if they get within a hundred meters pull back,” Tyler said. “Whyte, get your people on the line. Essa, your people will be reserve. You and Whyte give Dashtund your scouts. Dashtund, if there are opportunities to hit the Chosen with your Powered Armor, go for it.”

“Yes, sir.”

Tyler looked at them all. “Let’s get it done!”

They moved out of the room, their helmets closing as they started organizing their people.

Tyler looked at Jerome who was spitting onto the dust covered floor.

“Don’t look at me, we trained them. They’re the best Troopers I have ever served with. They’ll do their duty,” Jerome said.

“I just wish that duty didn’t mean putting down their fucking lives for my plans,” Tyler said through gritted teeth.

“We all do, that is what it means to be a leader,” Ortiz said, walking into the room.

Jerome tossed him a tin of dip.

Ortiz looked at it and then at Jerome. “You know me too well.” Ortiz opened the tin and started packing a lip.

“Hell, I could get to know a rake with enough time. Been stuck with you so long it’s like a dirty habit,” Jerome smiled.

“Like chewing,” Tyler said.

“Chewing isn’t a dirty habit. It just looks like one,” Ortiz said.

“He’s right little brother,” Mark said walking into the room, dust falling off his Powered Armor. “Now, where do you want me and my Troopers? It’s about time we gave them a good welcoming party.”

His helmet and arm opened as he held out his hand. Ortiz tossed him the tin of chew.

“Thought I’d find you bunch of degenerates together,” Alexis walked into the room.

Tyler smiled at seeing her, and they locked eyes, each happy that they other was there, but also unhappy that they had a job to do.

Ortiz spat on the floor.

“That was good dust,” Jerome said.

“You’re spitting on it,” Ortiz quipped.

“Well, it’s my dust,” Jerome grinned.

“Let’s get this battle sorted out, then we can get into ‘dust’ semantics later.” Ortiz spat on the ground again, smiling at Jerome.

***

Alexis had been given a section of Central Sector, right in front of the Chosen forces moving forward.

They’d taken losses from the mines that were outside of the areas they controlled, but there were a lot of them and they could soak up a few dozen casualties easily.

Her mission was simple: slow and bleed the Chosen. When they got close, her people would move back section by section, platoon by platoon.

The Chosen could easily push to either side and try to flank them. Central Sector was too big for the Troopers to try and control it all.

They would pull back in an orderly fashion, firing at the Chosen, killing and slowing them as the Troopers consolidated their forces.

If they broke and ran, then the Chosen would get a straight shot into the Troopers’ rear areas and then right to Mega City in the middle of it all.

“How is second Regiment’s Bravo Company?” she asked, looking over maps she’d seen a dozen times already.

“They’re good and ready, had some maintenance issues but they were cleared by the armorer,” Liu said.

“Are we sure?” Alexis asked.

“No we’re not sure, but there’s nothing we can do about it, so stop worrying about it and stay focused.” Liu’s stern voice made Alexis sigh.

“Yeah, thanks,” Alexis said. It was easy to get wrapped up in the stress.

“I also heard that your brothers might have found a way to the frontlines, they’ll make sure that the troopers fall back in order,” Liu assured her.

“Both of them?” Alexis felt the tension returning. Worrying about her two unofficial brother-in-laws.

“You think anyone is going to argue with Jerome and Mark?” Liu asked.

“You raise a good point.” Alexis shook her head.

“Chosen in sight,” Dashtund reported, he was forward with his scouts.

Alexis’ smile disappeared.

***

Mark looked at the buildings around him. The people had cleared out some time ago. He had never heard the Slums this quiet. The dust storm whipped at the buildings, and windows and unsecured doors banged.

He heard weapons fire in the distance.

He checked a map, a gang had holed up in their stronghold; unfortunately for them, their stronghold was in the Chosen’s path.

They were fighting, but the Chosen were tearing through them. Entire companies were moving past.

Artillery rumbled, raining metal down on the Chosen. The artillery was effective, if you were standing right underneath it.

The Chosen absorbed the minimal losses and moved forward.

“Chosen in sight,” Dashtund said.

Mark checked his Repulsor and leaned against the building he was using as cover, bracing the weapon.

Troopers raised their weapons as the first Chosen ran into the mines they’d laid.

“Fire!” Alexis said.

Repulsors fired, lines of tracers disappearing into the dust storm, and pinging off the Chosen’s armor. The Chosen reacted, jumping for any cover that they could find and firing back.

Mark ducked as rounds found his position. He lay down and fired back.

Troopers were dragged out of the way as they went down, wounded or dead. Others took their positions as they moved back.

“These fuckers are driven,” Dominguez said, clearing a stoppage on her Repulsor.

“Un-fucking-fortunately,” Mark growled as Chosen started coming into visual range.

The Troopers altered their fire, raking the crawling Chosen as artillery rained down on them from above.

The Troopers were slowing them, but they weren’t stopping them.

“They’re coming through the houses!” someone yelled out.

“Mother fuckers,” Mark turned, seeing his security detail. “Make sure that no one comes through this house.”

They punched holes in the wall, and moments later they were firing on Chosen that were indeed smashing their way through houses.

“Combat Shuttles incoming,” Alexis said.

Mark got down against the wall again, firing as rounds flew above his head. A few pinged off his shoulder.

That’s going to bruise.

He didn’t stop firing at the Chosen. They were just two hundred meters away and inching forward.

A Heavy opened up, raking the buildings and walls, taking chunks out of them, dropping the weak Slum houses. Troopers ran for better cover, and more than one was cut down as more Heavies fired.

“Hit the Heavies!” Lieutenant Giles shouted.

Troopers rose up with screamers, sending the rockets into the Heavies’ position. Two of the Heavies went down, but there were five already firing, with more working their way into range every minute.

Mark didn’t see or hear the Combat Shuttles, he just saw their work.

Missiles struck Heavies, auto-turrets cut down Chosen, and auto-cannons ripped apart anything in their path.

Their linked sensors cut through the dust storm as Mark started picking out targets and groups, instead of just any movement he saw.

A check on his map showed the scout sections were up to their tricks. They got sensor-sticks among the Chosen, clearing up the Troopers’ sight, and used their AMRs to shoot anyone that looked like an officer.

“Prepare to fall back,” Alexis said.

They’d killed possibly a hundred Chosen, but through it all they were still moving forward. They'd lost maybe twenty. If they got stuck in close combat, then the Chosen’s numbers would swarm and overrun them.

“Fall back!” Alexis yelled.

Mark stood up and ran with his security detail and the platoon he’d been attached to.

He ran for a few hundred meters; by then the rest of the company that had been on the front was moving back. Tracers passed Mark, the Chosen trying to find targets. As soon as Alpha Company was out of the way, Bravo opened up from their position.

Mark crossed the five-hundred-meter mark where Bravo Company were set up.

“I fucking hate cardio,” Dominguez huffed.

“You’re telling me,” Mark said, taking a breath and running again. He still had to make it past Charlie Company, then to the fourth line where they’d fight the Chosen again. The techs were working on the position, and the armorers were waiting to check them over.

Combat Shuttles were flying away from the battle, carrying the wounded and dead. They didn’t want to give the Chosen anything they might be able to use.

Mark was covered in sweat from Earth’s heat, the adrenaline, and his kilometer-long jog. He couldn’t open his helmet or else he’d get dust in his face.

“This fucking sucks,” Mark said.

“Welcome to Earth’s Military Forces, sir,” Dominguez said, slapping his shoulder.

***

“I’m getting calls from the high and mighties, they want you back at the citadel,” Tyler said.

“Stonewall the bastards, my place is here at the front. They can sit in their friggin’ tower watching the Chosen coming. We’ll fight their fucking war,” Ortiz said, holding Tyler’s eyes and working the table in front of him.

“Yes, sir,” Tyler sounded happy to stonewall.

“We have Fourth Force recalled to the citadel. They’re getting their Powered Armor checked and they’ll be available to move up. The remainder of Mark’s division are being pulled back to assist. They’re bringing their artillery,” Williamson said.

“Have the artillery deployed on the rooftops of Mega City. They’ll get more range there. Have the techs start siting positions for the guns,” Ortiz said. “I want all Powered Armor checked before it goes on the line. The Chosen won’t get a chance to work on their armor, so if we can hold the advantage there we use it.”

“Essa, Yule, switch out with Whyte and Alexis. Whyte, Alexis get your people’s armor checked over, get them fed and rested,” Tyler said.

They’d been taking delaying actions for the last day, switching Regiments on and off the line. The Chosen were trying to flank them. All of the scouts from Tyler and Mark’s divisions were also rotating to keep fresh. They had gone from harassing the Chosen to stopping them getting around the Regiments’ lines.

Dashtund’s Regiment was a mobile force, plugging holes and hammering the Chosen back.

“How long will it take for Ko to get here?” Tyler asked Williamson.

“An hour.”

“Good, tell him that he’ll be taking over from Dashtund. His people are worn out. They need rest.” The map was changing as orders were relayed.

The Chosen, like the Troopers, were rotating their people around so that they had fresh soldiers on the front lines. They’d progressed forty kilometers into the Central Sector, there were four hundred kilometers to go - a hundred days at their current pace.

Something is going to give, if it’s us or the Chosen I don’t know. Ortiz looked at the units. More were coming in every day, on both sides. The gangs seemed to have given up trying to attack the Chosen.

Ortiz remembered the reports and pictures of what the Chosen had done to the gang members that they had captured. And people who had got in their way. The Slums were angry, but they weren’t suicidal.

“How far back do we have to go until we can cover every square kilometer?” Ortiz asked.

“We’ll be inside Mega City, we just don’t have the numbers,” McPherson said.

“Once we get into Mega City then we lose the advantage of the dust,” Mark walked into the command center, dust falling from his clothes.

“You’ve got command, I’m going on the line,” Tyler said.

“Stay safe,” Mark said, the two brothers tapping arms. Jerome and Mark repeated the gesture. It took a special kind of trust to turn over management of your division to another.

For the brothers, there wasn’t even a question of each others’ abilities.

Dominguez stomped into the room, tapping Jerome and Tyler’s arms for good luck.

“That’s why we hold them for as long as possible,” Ortiz said, holding Mark’s eyes.

“Yes, sir.” Mark’s face was grim; he knew how many Troopers they had already lost.

The Chosen were pushing hard, no matter their losses they pushed forward. With their tactics and discipline they were losing less than Ortiz might like. It was more than the Troopers were losing, but they were continuing. The dust was jamming up their guns and their armor, and making them screw up.

Every little fuck up counts. Ortiz looked at the changing board as Chosen and Troopers clashed over kilometers. Four hundred thousand Troopers against triple their number.

Ortiz gritted his teeth, he wanted to pull them back to Mega City, to have interlocking units making a solid line against the Chosen. Doing so would save more of them now, but they would pay for it later. Here, he would trade their lives to whittle the Chosen down.

The bloody math of war and leadership.

Chapter 48

Combat Shuttle Four-Two-Seven

Earth, Sol System

2/3349

Yu watched his instruments as he lowered a collection of artillery pieces down on to a Mega City rooftop. Its perfect gardens were being ruined by Combat Shuttles bringing in artillery pieces and moving them into position.

“Hold,” Bobbie said, using the small winch on the Combat Shuttle to drop the artillery the last few meters and then release them.

“Clear,” Bobbie said, wheeling the winch back in. Yu powered away slowly, diving to get more speed.

“We’ve got units in the North Sector needing a lift,” Young said, as a flight plan appeared.

“Well let’s get to it,” Yu said. They hadn’t slept in days as the Chosen decided to make their push. There were a few air-cars moving around; the rich didn’t like being cooped up. Some were even having ‘war parties’, watching the videos of the Troopers fighting and dying, as they laughed, got drunk, and ate their fill.

The Troopers on the line hadn’t had a fresh meal in weeks, as the metal and other contagions got in their food. They were on drinkable slop, fighting these people’s war.

And the people don’t give a fuck. It’s just another form of rich person’s entertainment.

He flew over the air-cars, probably being reported every second as they were pushed away in the wake of his Combat Shuttle’s speed.

“Enjoying pissing off the local population?” Young asked.

“These rich fuckers are sitting out here living it up, laughing and joking about our friends dying. To them, war is a sport. They enjoy wealth and money. They’re numb to anything that happens outside their sphere of influence. I can’t think what’s going to happen when they’re stuck under the citadel while we’re fighting to save their lives,” Yu said.

“To them we’re not even really human; we don’t have the goods they do. Every month they get new tech, new clothes, redo their homes. It’s how their society works. Every day they must have the better thing. If they don’t, then they’re behind the curve, they’re old. It’s vain people believing in vain things. That’s capitalism gone rampant. To them this is the in thing, even if some of them might understand what’s happening in Central Sector on some level. Though, to stay relevant in this time, they need to have the best bunker, the best agreements with the Troopers. They’re paying more not because they want better protection, but simply because they can and to show others how rich and powerful they are,” Young said.

“That’s fucked up. There are people in the Slums that could live off those credits for years. Here they are spending it to look good in front of their friends.” Yu shook his head.

“Different kinds of surviving, people in the Slums need those credits to survive. Here in Mega City, not spending those credits make you look like some weakling. Different scales and while it might look wasteful to us, it makes them look better to potential contracts – and for getting even richer,” Bobbie explained.

“But we’re talking billions of credits,” Yu said.

“Economy of scale. No one said capitalism was fair, it’s convoluted and weirder the higher you get up in stature. The rich and the poor might be in the same system, but they could be different species.”

“Just give me a Combat Shuttle to fly in and a target to shoot. The rest of this I can do without,” Yu said.

“Doesn’t it fuck you up that we’re doing the corporations’ bidding, but we aren’t part of their system? We’re the slaves working to keep the other slaves in order.” Young shook her head.

“I try not to think about it, but at least with Harmony we know that we’re fighting something that won’t improve the system, their system is even worse than we’ve got. I think the reason we fight is a lot simpler than the corporations, the Slums, capitalism, and all that crap,” Yu said.

“How so?” Bobbie asked.

“We fight to survive. This is the only opportunity that we’ve got to improve our lives. We’re all bound together by that single desire. We care about the person to our right and left. I’d lay my life down for you two, and I know you’d do the same for me. That’s all there is to it. We’re fighting to survive, and we’ll kill the other bastards to do that. With Harmony we’re actually fighting an enemy that is screwed up. I didn’t take any pleasure in killing people on the colonies, but fighting Harmony feels cleaner than those fights. With those, I just wanted to survive and leave. I didn’t really want to kill people, but I had to because if I hadn’t they’d have killed me.”

No one responded, all of them were lost in their own thoughts.

Yu knew them well enough to know that they agreed, but they weren’t good people. They might be fighting the good fight against Harmony, but they had killed people that wanted nothing but a better life. They’d watched as Fernix was seeded with toxins, killing the population, no matter their beliefs or alliances.

I’m no hero. I’m not a good man, but I’m not going to just lie down and die, no matter my sins.

They sped through the electrostatic barrier that kept Earth’s dust storms out of Mega City.

Chapter 49

Tower

Earth, Sol System

3/3349

Dalia burst into Nivad’s office. “We know who’s leading them!”

She locked the door as Nivad turned on the sound canceler.

“Who?” Nivad asked, noting how his heartbeat had increased slightly.

“Peter Quinn, middling corporation officer from Housapel. Good orator and good at reaching agreements with various parties. The partnership expected good things from him. Seems that he didn’t want to wait the time it would take to get back to Earth with their recommendation. While the Housapel partnership thought of him as a great resource, the higher-ups were not interested in the idea of a fresh corporation officer upsetting their balance.”

“So he went to Housapel, kicked off Earth because they wanted to use his skills but not have their own personal power base affected by his dealings and rising stature.” Nivad nodded, Quinn was not the first corporation officer to have had this happen to him.

“He started spreading his influence to his people, got them to think that he wanted to build a utopia of people working together to push the human race ahead without the corporations reigning over them,” Dalia said.

“Did he believe it?” Nivad asked.

“Of course not, he just wanted to take power. He wants to make Earth unstable with the war, to put the blade to everyone that pushed him off to Housapel. Then he will take over as CEO of various large companies. His closest advisers, like General Fusaro, Admiral Hawking, and the leaders on Osdal and Fernix, are all capitalists. We have copies of some of the contracts that he sent to them.”

“How did we get the information?” Nivad asked.

“Someone in his personal circle. They haven’t told us anything, just given us information. They’re covering their back. If we want more information, we have to give them amnesty.”

“If they win they get power from Mister Quinn, if not then they are safe and free of our clutches,” Nivad said. “Write up a contract and agree to their terms. I want to know what Quinn is doing at Mars.”

“Yes, sir.” Dalia put a data cube on Nivad’s desk and left. Nivad accessed the cube and started going through the reams of information.

Smart boy, make a religious cult turned government to cover your actions. Put yourself at the head of it and ride it to Earth.

In the game of corporations, Peter Quinn was Nivad’s greatest contender to date. It had taken a considerable amount of Nivad’s resources and more than a little luck to stop many of Quinn’s plans.

Even now at the end it is a close battle.

Nivad looked at the screens that showed him the battles between the Chosen and Troopers happening just a few hundred kilometers away. If he changed the screens to see out of Mega City, he could see several artillery batteries firing day and night to try and stop the Chosen advance.

Chapter 50

Legate Nerva’s Estate

Orbiting Gardens of Ageia, Hellenic System

3/3349

Nerva looked around his estate. His apartments and living quarters were odd for someone of his standing: they were the same as any other apartments in the orbiting gardens he owned. The ones around it were the residences of his bodyguards.

The orbiting gardens were great rings that spun to maintain gravity. They had been built before artificial gravity was created.

With the creation of artificial gravity, a central sphere was placed in the middle of the rotating ring. This was what Nerva called his home.

The sphere was cut up into levels. Each one supported the one below, turning it into an entire eco-system. Apartments for those that worked the gardens ran through the center of the massive sphere. More gardens, and the small city that Nerva supported, rested in the center of the sphere. The ring comprised of automated gardens, with a few living quarters here and there.

The Hellenic system was one of the few systems that hadn’t been under Maraukian threat in centuries. They had massive defense networks and a sensor net that told them if anything was heading towards them.

The number one thing that the planets needed while fighting Maraukians was food; you could make ammunition from raw materials, but food took time.

Nerva had worked his estate since he had been given just a small plot on Roma Prime. He’d sold it when it had become valuable, and put all of his money into the ring gardens that were built around the world Ageia.

It was his sanctuary, his place to rest. He had no children, and hadn’t taken a wife after the Maraukians landed on Roma.

Upon his death, the council that ruled in his stead would take over his responsibilities.

“Nerva,” NIDenise sounded tense.

“We have a new mission?” Nerva thought-spoke.

“Nivad just okayed an assassination mission on the Victors.”

Nerva took a deep breath, the unnerving calm he felt before battle settling over him as he looked at the gardens without seeing them.

“Is there an extraction team on route?” Nerva asked.

“There are four teams on Earth recruiting Troopers. There are others in orbit, and personnel on Earth are working to secure the Troopers in need of aid.”

“Get me a ship going to Earth. Now.” Nerva started walking to his quarters to grab his belongings.

“This is Nivad, he always gets his targets,” NIDenise said.

“Then we’re going to have to make the cover-up really good. If he doesn’t kill them all, then they’ll hunt him down. They could destabilize Earth.” Nerva’s face had lost all traces of emotion.

“Nerva, they are just Troopers! What you’re talking about is them overthrowing Nivad, the most powerful and manipulative human on Earth!” Even NIDenise didn’t want to tangle with the man.

“The Victors command the respect of the Troopers, and General Ortiz would go to war for them. Nivad will cover his tracks well, but it takes one word, one screw up, and the Troopers will turn against the EHC. They’re at a crucial point and this could be the straw that breaks the camel’s back.” Images and thoughts passed through Nerva’s mind. NIDenise read it all, understanding the image that was coming together.

Nivad might know how to manipulate and read people, but he had been dealing with corporations and their officers all his life. He understood the Troopers to some degree, but he thought that money was their motivation, sometimes the occasional relationship.

He didn’t understand how the EMF had become a home for the Troopers.

Having the man that commanded the EMF killing Troopers would break any connection the Troopers held with the EMF.

NIDenise booked Nerva on the fastest ship. It would take five months to reach Earth.

Chapter 51

Central Sector

Earth, Sol System

4/3349

“We’re breaking through the flanks more and more, but there are these scouts like the ones on Fernix making it impossible to push through without larger forces,” Baashir walked into Fusaro’s latest command center.

“Counter them, get them to come out, and then ambush them. We need to get around their flanks. If we can force ourselves between their units, we’ll break them and get a line to Mega City.” Fusaro drew a line on his map from their position to Mega City.

“Every time we get through a gap, the Troopers pull back and establish a new line right in front of our new line of advance,” Baashir said.

“If we can take out these scouts, then they won’t have any warning of us coming past their flanks,” Fusaro said.

“With a few more units we might be able to start ambushing them, or group our people together, and flush them out. They aren’t heavily armored, but they’re using those AMRs which can pierce our armor,” Baashir said.

“Take two of our best companies, and try to force a route through the scouts. Kill any that are in your way. The more we kill now, the faster our advance will be.”

“It will be done, General. For the Sake of Harmony.” Baashir saluted.

“For the sake of Harmony,” Fusaro repeated.

Every day they were moving forward faster.

Fusaro was bleeding Chosen, but they still outnumbered the enemy three times.

Their armor was becoming a hindrance, already some PACs were having to leave their armor behind. They were too damaged by the dust getting into their systems. It didn’t function properly any more. Companies were working to try and maintain the armor, but it took time to pull units off the line, clean the armor, and throw them back in.

The Chosen hadn’t brought the tools they needed to clean their armor. It was an oversight. But then they had thought that they would be landing right in Mega City. No one thought that the Troopers might be fighting them through the Slums, switching out their Troopers and cleaning up their armor.

As we move forward, more and more PACs are going to shed their armor to fight. The faster we get into Mega City, the faster we can get our armor sorted. We need to get out of this dust. If Baashir can kill off those scouts and force the Troopers to retreat faster, then we might get into Mega City before we’ve got too many Chosen in their undergarments.

***

Dominguez was in the command center when Tyler got the call.

“I repeat, Captain Dashtund is down, we need fire support! The Chosen are coming in on all sides!” a Trooper yelled.

“Get me fire support on that location,” Tyler looked at Jerome, who was talking into his headset. “Lieutenant Mackarov, move your Powered Armor to open up a route for the scouts to escape through. Whyte, Ko, be prepared to move your companies back, and push them out to cover your sides. Scouts, keep an eye out for ambushes and watch for Chosen trying to flank.”

“No,” Dominguez’s breath escaped her as she looked at the units moving across the table’s dust-covered surface. “He can’t be.”

She opened up her implants, looking at Dashtund’s marker that showed him as a black dot.

The implants have to be lying, they have to!

She turned, finding Mark behind her, and she tried to run past, but his muscular arms held her steady.

She swore and yelled, trying to free herself. Mark winced as she hit and even bit him.

Eventually, she collapsed on the ground, tired, so damned tired of the fighting.

“Come on,” Mark said, helping her to her feet. She cried, tears leaving trails through the dust on her face.

All she could think of was Dashtund’s smile, the kiss he’d given her as he’d set out on his last shift, just hours ago.

Mark guided her into a room, and she slumped onto the bed as Mark took a seat.

She cried like she had as a little girl when her dad had been killed.

She’d never said it, but she’d loved Dashtund. They’d dated for years. Mark and Tyler had kept them separate, so that their relationship would never be a problem. Wen and Haas had done the same.

She cried and cried at the loss of her lover and her friend.

She didn’t see Mark as he leaned forward in his chair, rubbing his face as if weary of life.

Tears darkened the dust that lay between his feet.

***

Ortiz ate his food with the other Troopers. Few of them were talking and there wasn’t a smile to be seen. They ate food simply because they had to.

They had gone from people to machines, shutting down their emotions and feelings so that they could carry out their duties. Here and there, the facade failed, and tears rolled down someone’s face or they looked into nothing, living through memories of all of the people they had lost.

Ortiz ate his food quickly, not tasting it. In his mind’s eye he saw people around his table, laughing and joking. Some of them he couldn’t remember clearly, time and other ghosts had washed them out.

Though they were still there, the silent legions of people that had lived and died. He was one of the few people that remembered them. Like the Troopers around him, he wondered who was going to remember him if he died. Would there be anyone left to remember him?

Don’t you dare think like that, he scolded himself. Those are your boys and girls out there fighting right now. They haven’t given up the fight and you sure as shit aren’t going to give up!

He finished his food and pushed the ghosts from his mind. He put chew into his lip and went to the command center.

The Chosen were pushing hard and they had units working to find ways around the Troopers. So far, the scouts had been able to deal with them.

The skirmishers were smart, and they spread out, making it harder to find them. They didn’t seem to care about their losses as long as they got through. Their latest tactic was to entice the scouts in and ambush them as they tried to gather information on the Chosen, or kill skirmishers looking for a new route past the Troopers.

When the Chosen got through, the Troopers had to pull back.

They were losing ground faster and faster.

We don’t have long until I have to start pulling units back to Mega City.

Chapter 52

Combat Shuttle Four-Two-Seven

Earth, Sol System

5/3349

The order had been given: all equipment and Troopers, other than those specifically tasked, were to pull back to Mega City. The Chosen were pushing harder than anyone had thought possible.

They had captured artillery and used it against the Troopers. Heavy machine guns waited to kill any Combat Shuttles trying to take out the artillery pieces.

With the metallic content of the dust, it was hard to get a lock on the artillery’s position from less than a kilometer away. When a Combat Shuttle fired their missiles, there was a good chance that they were going to miss. The Chosen’s Heavies would light up the skies with tracers.

Yu had seen many Combat Shuttles not make it back from those missions. He also had a number of holes in his hulls from those Heavies.

They were on the advancing front lines as well. Combat Shuttles were constantly changing their attack angle to try and confuse the Heavies. They’d taken to watching everywhere.

Artillery was the best weapon to use against the Chosen. Many had shed their armor as the dust had got inside, fouling motors and joints.

Yu came down over a rooftop, hovering off the edge of a building. It was one hell of a balancing act in the dust storm.

Troopers rushed into the cargo hold, scouts that had been out for months collecting information and fouling the Chosen’s lines.

The Chosen had been actively targeting them.

After Dashtund’s death, the scouts had tried to be more careful, but the Chosen were constantly trying to cut their number down.

“Go,” Bobbie ordered, and Yu took off, headed for Mega City.

He glanced back at the Troopers that were pulling off their helmets and sagging in their harnesses.

They looked like hell, and no one spoke as a few fell asleep. Others stared off into nothing, trapped in their own minds.

Yu looked back at his flight plan.

“What’s our next pickup?” he asked.

“We’re picking up Powered Armor and supplies. Then Troopers.”

“Alright.” Yu had slept in small fits, most of the time in the cargo hold, or even in his flight seat.

He was so tired that he was mostly going through the motions. His augments got him alert when they were heading into real danger, but while moving people he just followed the flight plan.

“At least there’s some good news,” Young offered.

“What?” Yu wasn’t really listening.

“Indomitable and Big Bertha are moving into Earth’s orbit. Their Fighters and Combat Shuttles are already moving to enter Earth’s atmosphere. Should mean that we get some help.”

“We control the skies, but on the ground it’s hell. Look at these poor bastards, and they were hitting the back end of the Chosen,” Yu said, pointing his thumb back at the Troopers in their cargo hold.

“A hundred thousand Troopers dead, and what do we have to show for it? A few more hundred thousand Chosen lying face down in the Slums. This was the easy part. Here, we were supposed to bleed them before Mega City. Once they get there, they’ll get their PACs back online. They’ll start using artillery they stole, and advance through Mega City,” Yu sighed, the anger draining out of him.

“And once we get there, then we can’t support the Troopers. They don’t want us bombing Mega City, even though the Chosen are going to be bombing the hell out of the place. Our artillery could be fucking statues for all they’re worth. Bunch of rich pricks being idiots,” Bobbie complained.

“I heard that Indomitable might be cleared to fire on the Chosen,” Young said.

“It’s been cleared to fire on the Slums. The houses of the people that have helped us,” Yu drank some water.

“Its all fucked up.”

“Yeah,” Yu agreed, feeling tired.

Chapter 53

Central Sector

Earth, Sol System

5/3349

“Alright, when I give the order, we’re going to pull back five kilometers, in order. Drop mines behind you as you run, we don’t want the Chosen having an easy time of it.” Mark sounded calmer than he felt. The plan was risky, and could turn their retreat into a complete rout. If they pulled it off, then they would bleed the Chosen worse than they had throughout their entire advance, and give the Troopers time to get established in their new positions.

All of the Slum bases had been pulled apart, leaving nothing for the Chosen to use. The Westerly crew had got the word out and everyone had left the area in a hurry.

“On my word we start, so follow your leadership’s orders and stay in your sections,” Mark said.

All across the Troopers’ lines, stretching kilometers through Central Sector outside of Mega City, they were firing at the Chosen with everything they had. All of them were waiting for the order.

“Troopers, pull back in units,” Ortiz sounded calm. The frontline units dissolved, and Mark turned and ran with them. They moved through buildings and past the second line that were firing just seconds after the first. The Combat Shuttles had been flying for hours, whipping up a good dust storm.

By the time that the first line had got to the fourth line, the second was peeling back. As the first line got into their new positions a kilometer-and-a-half away, the third line was running back.

There were no more than a few seconds where the Troopers stopped firing to clear out of the way of those behind them.

Sometimes buildings in the way would provide the Chosen with cover as they inched forward. Combat Shuttles were firing wildly into the Chosen lines and raking them with fire from above.

Mark watched as the lines continued, and he looked for people lagging behind and problem areas. His people were picking up the issues before he could say anything.

“Looking good,” Mark said.

“Don’t jinx us now,” Dominguez replied.

“I’ll try not to.”

Dominguez should have got a few weeks off to have time to deal with her loss, but they didn’t have the time for that. They buried their pain deep, and continued with their jobs.

Mark closed his eyes, pushing the ghosts from his vision as he looked up. The sixth line moved out of the way and he fired past them at the Chosen a kilometer-and-a-half away.

Just a little further.

Chapter 54

EMFC Indomitable

Earth, Sol System

5/3349

Captain Remblant was a partially reformed man. He didn’t think of himself as one of Earth’s Military Forces’ dogs.

He did have a good understanding of who to follow and listen to when he was going into battle.

One of those people was General Ortiz; the man had gone higher than many before him. Riding his coat-tails up higher was a good idea for Remblant’s own rank, and staying alive long enough to appreciate it.

That was why, when General Ortiz asked for Remblant to strike the Chosen from Orbit, he pushed his people to do everything in their power to get him the best firing solution possible.

“How are we looking, Hule?” Remblant asked the weapons officer.

“Coming into range in ten minutes, Troopers are still closer than I’d like but they should have moved another half-kilometer back by that time.” Hule’s attention was entirely focused on her screens.

“How long will we have above the Chosen?” Remblant asked.

“Five minutes, if cleared to use engines I can get that to ten… maybe thirteen minutes,” Goi said from his place at helm.

“You are cleared to use engines. This might be the only opportunity we get to strike at the Chosen in orbit. I want a least-time path to come back over Mega City, and another for Mars to meet up with Admiral Hall.”

“I will have the plots in five minutes,” Goi said, bending to his task.

Remblant watched as the timer wound down and the Carrier started to tilt so that its heavily armed and armored side was facing down towards the rusty marble that was humanity’s birthplace.

“Path’s plotted and sent to your screens,” Goi reported.

“Good work. Helm, five minutes until we’re on target, everyone look lively,” Remblant said.

“One minute,” Hule muttered, more to herself than anyone else.

That time ticked down, and the Chosen and Trooper lines looked impossibly close from orbit.

Before Remblant could think of the idiocy of the whole plan again, Hule sent the fire command to the Carrier’s guns. The Carrier bucked as rail-cannon after rail-cannon fired depleted uranium rounds down into Earth’s gravity well.

Round after round followed as the Trooper lines started showing a slight separation between themselves and the Chosen.

The rounds cut through Earth’s atmosphere, and the targeting computers compensated for the entry and the dust clouds they cut through, turning the minor dust storm that the Combat Shuttles had created into a major one.

Rounds impacted the ground, leaving great craters and throwing more dust into the heavens.

Mega City’s electrostatic dome kept the dust at bay, the city appearing pristine and untouched by the ravages they had brought onto Earth.

There was no way to see Earth’s surface as dust moved across the planet. Still, the rail-cannons fired; they were locked into Earth’s GPS with targeting that should be able to hit within a few hundred meters.

Sometimes there’s nothing you can do but sit back and watch.

Chapter 55

Mega City

Earth, Sol System

5/3349

“Move it, Troopers!” Ortiz yelled.

Troopers stayed in their units, but the lines that they’d been holding seemed to rush toward Mega City.

“Incoming,” Williamson said from the command center at the citadel.

Sometimes I wonder just how sane I am.

The Troopers made one hell of a sight as they ran fully armed and armored. Some couldn’t stop themselves, so they barreled through Slum houses in their headlong sprint away from the impact zone.

They were a few kilometers from the Chosen as the orbital strikes started coming through Earth’s atmosphere.

The dust pulled at Ortiz’s armor as he fought onwards for Mega City.

“I can’t see a fucking thing,” Mark growled.

“I’ve only got the sensor-sticks to see anything,” Tyler said.

“Fuck sakes,” Mark sighed, but he never stopped running.

Ortiz snorted at the brothers’ banter. Then the orbital strike hit.

If they’d thought that the wind was bad before, it was impossible afterwards. Ortiz couldn’t see further than ten feet with all of his sensors dialed up. The dust captured the heat of the impacts, the whole area getting a nice burn as strike after strike hit.

The ground shook with tremors as sensor-sticks went offline and the Chosen disappeared. The Troopers were blind; they had no idea where the Chosen were, or what kind of state they were in.

But it mattered little right now, they just needed to get to Mega City. That one objective propelled them all forwards.

Vehicles that had been claimed by the Troopers waited for them. Ortiz got onto what looked like a dune buggy as the driver jumped in and three more Troopers climbed on the back. The vehicles rushed off towards Mega City, and the streets were filled with cars of all kinds.

The driver dodged a wall at the last second, ripping along too fast for Ortiz’s liking. They broke through a house’s opening and out the other side.

He looked at the driver, and he could swear that they were smiling as they drove like a maniac.

Give me strength.

They raced behind a column of cars, and Troopers were riding in or on vehicles of all types as they raced for Mega City at their best speed.

***

Fusaro looked up from his maps as the ground shook with an impact.

The hell?

“Sir, orbital strikes!” a Chosen shouted, coughing through their rag mask.

Fusaro’s eyes widened.

It made sense! The weird firing, how there were unexpected lulls in the fighting. The Troopers were pulling back.

More impacts shook the building.

There was nothing that Fusaro could do to fight orbital strikes.

Fucking Quinn, if he’d just stayed in orbit and crushed those EMFCs.

He ground his teeth, trying to think of what to do. They couldn’t survive this if they stayed in the same place.

“Order all units to advance, push forward towards Mega City, best speed. Spread our forces out, we don’t want them getting killed in one lucky hit,” Fusaro looked to Baashir.

“Sir!” Baashir spoke into his communication headset quickly.

Fusaro looked at his maps, hoping that he would have a military left when the strike finished. The building shook again as the orbital strikes started in earnest, rail-cannons hitting targets close and far.

Chapter 56

Mega City

Earth, Sol System

6/3349

Mark and Tyler walked their combined divisions’ lines. Defensive works encircled Mega City, just under five hundred and fifty thousand Troopers had survived so far. All of them were working on bolstering their positions. Mega City’s cermite pad would take too long to cut into to make defenses. Instead, they were turning the various towers and buildings into strong points.

Spray-ite covered walls, and murder holes ready to be used as ammunition and supply dumps littered the towers.

All of the Troopers had fallback positions. Here, they could slow the Chosen, but holding them wasn’t possible. Once again, they were going to bleed the Chosen and fall back.

Some of the ways to fall back had got interesting. They didn’t have Combat Shuttles to evacuate everyone, so a lot of people had rigged up their own ways to move between positions.

Mark felt the high tension wire that went from the twentieth floor of the Troopers’ first stronghold to their second. A block of explosive had been attached to the anchor point of the wire.

“Well, that is one hell of an idea,” Tyler grinned, looking at the zip line.

“I’d say so.” Mark sounded impressed.

“Thank you, sirs,” Warrant Hodges said, practically beaming with pride.

“How you looking for supplies?” Tyler asked.

“We’re stocked for a month, got charges on it all so that we can blow it if we leave before then,” Hodges said.

“How are the Troopers and their gear?” Mark asked.

“I have everyone going over their Powered Armor with their cleaning kits. They’ve learned how important it is to keep their gear in top condition. As for the Troopers, well,” Hodges sighed, looking tired. “We’ve all lost someone before this, some of them thought that we couldn’t fail with being the best trained unit in the known universe. It’s hitting them hard.”

“We’ve got hot food coming around, make sure all of your Troopers get some. We’re going to lose more people, though we’re going to stick it to those Chosen bastards and make them hurt,” Mark promised.

“Thank you, sir. We’ve got a lot of unfocused anger looking for a vent. I’ve got the Troopers doing every job I can think of, but I can only distract them for so long.”

“Ortiz has detected movement in Central Sector. It looks like we’ll be getting something to hit sooner rather than later,” Tyler said.

“Yes, sir.”

“If the Troopers need something to do, have them add booby traps, the Chosen are going to want a base of operations when they move into Mega City. Let’s make sure it’s a warm reception,” Mark said.

“Will do, sir.”

“Keep up the good work,” Tyler said, clapping Hodges on the shoulder. “I’m trying out this zip line.” With that, he jumped on the zip line, headed for the next stronghold.

“Excuse me, I have to go and catch my idiot brother,” Mark growled, grabbing the zip line harness and following Tyler.

Chapter 57

EMFC Fearless

Mars, Sol System

6/3349

Admiral Hall looked at the Harmony Carriers that were holding around Mars.

“New report in from the Ministry of Intelligence. It looks like the leader of the Harmony rebellion is a man called Peter Quinn. He has been using backroom communications to talk to security contractors on Mars. Ortiz made sure that none of the security contractors on Earth were able to help the Chosen,” Guy said.

“So, Quinn is looking for replacements,” Hall surmised.

“Exactly,” Guy said.

Hall looked at the screen.

And they call us mercenaries; these bastards will do anything for pay.

Hall’s eyes widened with an idea. “Connect me to Moretti, now!” Hall sounded as if he might lose the idea if he didn’t tell someone else immediately.

“Hall?” Moretti sounded like he had just woken up.

“Moretti, you got the report on Quinn?” Hall asked.

“Who?” The cobwebs of sleep were affecting Moretti.

“He’s the guy leading this shitshow. Anyway, not important. It looks like he is trying to hire security contractors to fight us,” Hall said.

“Asshole,” Moretti growled, waking up.

“Well, what do security contractors do?” Hall asked.

“They fight,” Moretti said, confused.

“Yes, they fight for credits.”

“Where are you going with this?”

“Talk to your bosses and get talking to the security contractors – use back channels. Whatever they get from Quinn they can keep, then give them something extra and get them to fight for us instead. We can’t defeat them with the Carriers that we have in-system. If there was a force that took them from the inside, then we might not need to scratch up these hulls,” Hall explained.

“So you want me to talk to Nivad, tell him to buy the security contractors’ contracts out from under Quinn, and once they’re aboard the Harmony Carriers, then they turn on Harmony and take the ships? Shit, that might work,” Moretti sounded thoughtful. “I’ll call Nivad.”

“Thank you, Moretti.”

“Thank you, Admiral, if we can pull this off then we’ll cut the head off the beast. It will also put those Carriers to rest. Even if we won down here, those things could just bombard us from the orbitals like Indomitable,” Moretti said.

“Here’s hoping,” Hall said.

“I’ll get back to you as soon as possible.’ Moretti cut the channel.

Chapter 58

Tower

Earth, Sol System

6/3349

“Sir, you have a call from agent M,” Rosalind, one of Nivad’s secretaries, said.

“Connect the call.”

M sounded breathless. “Mister Selvra, Admiral Hall has come up with a plan that might deal with the Harmony Carrier fleet, their security contractors, and getting Peter Quinn.”

“How?” If M was messing with him, he would have his head.

“We buy the security contractors out from under Quinn.”

So simple and so possible.

Nivad sat there for some time, tapping his desk in thought. Scenarios ran through his mind, but it kept coming back to one thing. The security contractors weren’t trying to hide that they were getting hired by Harmony.

Maybe they were looking for other interested parties and a payout?

“If you can negotiate a deal with the security contractors, I will okay the funds,” Nivad promised. Money was of little consequence if it could get him the leader of Harmony. It would also mean the informant in Quinn’s circle would be free to spill the other secrets they knew.

“Yes, sir, I will contact you with the details,” M said.

“Good, bring them to my office in person. Also, I want a plan to remove any of the security contractors that are deemed possible threats to Earth and Her Colonies,” Nivad said.

“I will have it prepared shortly. Am I allowed to bring my own staff in on this?” M asked.

Smart boy.

“You may bring them in as long as you are sure that they will not reveal any information,” Nivad said.

“Yes, sir, I will have it ready as soon as possible.”

Nivad closed the channel, wanting the agent to get to work.

If he can pull this off, then all we have to think about is the Chosen on Earth.

Nivad started writing up a message to send to Moretti. If the security contractors on Mars proved to be worth the credits, then they might be useful in bolstering his Troopers’ numbers on Earth. It would also weaken them if M found out that any of them were a possible threat.

Chapter 59

Central Sector

Earth, Sol System

6/3349

Fusaro looked at the latest report that was playing across his implants. “Order the advance.”

“Sir,” Baashir talked into his communications headset. Moments later, the Chosen’s lines started moving forward. Their armor had been worked on as much as possible, but their force of nearly two million Chosen had been cut down to nearly half.

They had around nine hundred thousand PACs.

They had needed the break, but now all of the PACs were armored and functional. The EMFC in orbit had struck them a few times, killing hundreds of thousands.

Fusaro had stopped the advance, using the dust storm to feed and rest his people. He didn’t know what to expect in Mega City, and he hated giving the Troopers more time.

Still, he knew that it was time well spent; his people were back in properly formed units. They were well rested, fed, and supplied.

They pushed forwards through the dust storm. Unit commanders had their units leap-frog like the Troopers did. Here and there booby traps were found; the Troopers never seemed to bore of the infernal devices.

Then the artillery started. The Troopers’ scouts must have been hiding and watching the Chosen. Artillery rained down on the advancing Chosen, killing anything in their blast radius.

The scouts targeted leadership. Anyone that looked to have any authority was hit with AMRs. The smart officers blended into their units, using their voices instead of their gestures to get their people to move forward.

“Well, it looks like the Troopers will know that we’re coming. No reports of Troopers yet though,” Baashir said.

“Let’s get armored up, it’s time that we moved up,” Fusaro said.

He had walked around, talked, and made his presence felt with the Chosen. He needed to be seen as a leader in the flesh, not just a voice in their ear.

It led to their loyalty and drove them to complete his orders.

“Yes, sir,” Baashir smiled. The Chosen idiot thought that Fusaro was walking, talking Harmony royalty.

What would they do if they found out I was only doing this for the corporation seat I’ll get at the end of it? Fusaro didn’t think that it would be a pleasant experience.

He got into his Powered Armor as aides broke down the command center. They were well practiced, with the Chosen’s advance they had moved forward constantly.

The armor locked around Fusaro. There were two reasons he wanted to move to the front: one, to let his people see him, and two, because he knew that the corporation heads wouldn’t allow orbital strikes in their city.

Fusaro didn’t want to die, he still had a lot he wanted to do.

Chapter 60

Citadel

Earth, Sol System

6/3349

“Here they come,” Ortiz said, looking as Chosen started appearing on the screens, the sensor-sticks and scouts seeing the Chosen as they moved forward.

“Can Indomitable get into position?” he looked at McPherson.

“No, sir, Captain Remblant is pushing his ship as hard as possible. It will be forty minutes until he’s in position. If we can keep them there, then he will be able to hit them,” McPherson said.

“Then let’s hope we can hold for forty minutes.”

Ortiz had been roped back to the command center. It seemed that Nivad Selvra didn’t like to have his general running around on the front lines. A few of the ministry people had come over to have stiff words with him. Ortiz had faced people trying to kill him all across the EHC, so their stiff words and glares were like water on a roof.

It seemed that someone had reported that Ortiz couldn’t give a flying fuck and thus Ortiz had got his own minder. His name was Wallace, and Moretti said that he was Nivad’s top enforcer.

Wallace seemed happy to let Ortiz do as he wanted and acted much as Moretti did, passing on information that Ortiz might find useful.

He stays in my corner and I’ll stay in mine.

Wallace held his ear, his eyes finding Ortiz’s.

What the hell is going on in there?

As if Wallace had heard his thoughts, the man walked over in his tailored suit.

“General, some information has come to light. It seems that Admiral Hall has a plan to deal with the enemy carriers,” Wallace’s voice was quiet, so that only Ortiz could hear.

“What is it?” Ortiz asked. He was worried about those carriers. If they won on the ground but those damn ships were still around, it would take a miracle for Hall to destroy them all. If the Harmony Carriers had full run of the system, then they could pound anything from orbit.

Ortiz felt it would only be a matter of time until they turned Mega City into a pile of rubble and said that Earth and Her Colonies were under their command.

“If we could go somewhere private,” Wallace said.

“I trust these men and women with my life; any information you tell me I’m going to tell them,” Ortiz replied.

Wallace seemed to stew over that for a few moments. “Very well. M is looking to buy up the security contractors that Harmony is trying to buy. If he does so, it is his hope that they will take the Harmony carriers from the inside.”

“Fucking mercenaries,” Ortiz sighed, shaking his head.

We’re no better. We just lie to ourselves and say that we’re fighting for something bigger.

Judging by Wallace’s expression, he seemed to be thinking the same thing.

“Thank you for the information. I’ll keep it in mind, but right now I’m more focused on dealing with the threat marching into Mega City.”

“I will inform you if I find out any more valuable information,” Wallace promised, walking back to the command table that he and his people had claimed.

It wasn’t a perfect working relationship, but it worked out of necessity.

“Chosen are moving past the wall into Mega City.”

“Commanders are to fire at their own discretion. Once the Chosen have moved in enough pull back the majority of the scouts, we’re going to need them in their armor soon enough,” Ortiz said.

Chapter 61

Mega City

Earth, Sol System

6/3349

Alexis hadn’t had much time to see Tyler, just a few snatched moments here and there. They had their own duties, and it was hard to have a relationship when there was a war going on.

He was looking over his division while she was looking over her Regiment. They were at half-strength, but ready to fight.

Red carats started to appear as Chosen walked through the electrostatic shield and into Mega City.

“Fire!” Alexis cried, leaning into her turret as she fired into the Chosen. They reacted like the well-trained bastards they were. They fired back and ran for cover.

Artillery was firing on just the other side of the shield. Pieces of the shrapnel were coming through and catching the Chosen in the back as they advanced.

All up and down the Chosen line, Repulsors, AMRs and Screamers let loose. The Chosen weren’t just taking it, and their own artillery started raining down inside Mega City.

Someone screamed as shrapnel tore through the murder hole they were using to aim, cutting through their helmet.

Medics ran up, hauling the person out of the way. Another Trooper took their place. Alexis didn’t spare them a second glance.

Her people knew their jobs, and she, just like the lowest private, was focused on carrying out her duty and cutting the Chosen down.

Vehicles burst from the electrostatic shields.

“Get the trucks!” Mark yelled, as Screamers left a blazing trail to the vehicles. The trucks went up in fireballs, but there were dozens of them. They got through and past the first line. The second started engaging them. The Chosen closed with the buildings that the Troopers were using as strongholds.

“Strongholds, move Troopers to watch all sides,” Ortiz said. The Chosen had penetrated their loose line and an attack could come from anywhere.

Cermite dust made the battlefield hazy as tracers criss-crossed between the Chosen and the Troopers.

Chosen hid behind benches, planters, abandoned air-cars, anything that looked like cover. Repulsors took chunks out of them as Screamers turned them into rubble.

Here and there, convoys of Slum vehicles came racing through the shield, Chosen firing wildly in every direction. Troopers with Screamers, high in the strongholds, fired at the vehicles, which were racing past the first line and into Mega City.

Alexis watched her tracers as they tore into what looked like a bus of some kind. There was a gang emblem on the side of it. It looked like fireworks had gone off inside as the tracers bounced around, tearing the bus apart.

Chosen jumped out of the vehicle, their armor saving them from the ricocheting tracers.

Alexis turned her fire on them, and her two mounted Repulsors tore into the PACs, the special rounds turning their armor into death traps.

Her Repulsor clicked empty.

“Reloading!” she yelled, pushing the spent casings out of the way as she hauled two ammunition boxes to her gun. She tore off the old ones, and attached the new ones to the belt feeder. It started pushing the rounds into the Repulsors. She grabbed the charging handles, ripping them back and then forward, then swung to aim at a new truck that revved as it caught air from what was left of a bench.

She pulled on the trigger, the twin barrels releasing rounds as casings fell around her legs.

“Back in!” She yelled. Techs were rushing all over the place, fixing Repulsors, dropping off ammunition, or patching holes in the walls with Spray-ite.

The Chosen were having a hard time of it, but they were advancing and firing back.

A new truck came through the electrostatic shield. It sagged on its suspension; armor had been tacked across it and Heavies shifted behind armor plates.

“Screamers, get that fucking thing!” Alexis tagged the new monster that had appeared.

It opened up with Heavy machine guns. Alexis ducked as it shot into the wall she was hiding behind, and holes the size of her armored head appeared in the walls.

Black and red symbols appeared around her as Troopers screamed out in pain.

One of the blacks was Liu, her sergeant major.

“Eriksson, you’re my sergeant major, check in with the medics and see if we can get any fire support,” Alexis said.

“Yes, ma’am,” Eriksson said.

Screamers hit the armored truck. It took multiple hits, but one finally got its power supply, turning the entire thing into an incinerator. Blue flames ripped through the truck bed where the Heavies were. Chosen ripped their own defenses apart as they tried to run, then a Screamer hit the bed and opened up the armor, killing any Chosen left.

The power source burned anything in its way and melted armor.

“We’ve got more trucks coming in,” Lieutenant Jovenko reported.

“Motherfucker,” Alexis hissed as she saw that one of her Repulsors had been hit by the Heavies. The entire mount was mangled and fucked.

Unfortunately, there were plenty of empty Repulsor turrets, and Troopers laying dead or yelling in pain around them.

Alexis moved to a different Repulsor, firing at the Chosen as they used the trucks to move forward.

More and more of the trucks were moving forwards, their heavy machine guns firing in all directions as PACs ran up.

The smaller vehicles raced forwards to hit the second and third lines.

All of Mega City was fighting to hold position.

A civilian air-car got close to the action, the people gawking at the war below, then a Heavy caught their engines, sending them cartwheeling out into the Slums.

Stupid motherfuckers.

Chapter 62

Combat Shuttle Four-Two-Seven

Earth, Sol System

6/3349

“Fuck this, we’re going,” Yu said, standing up in the section bay that he and three other Combat Shuttle crews had been given to live in. Young and Bobbie also grabbed their helmets and stood.

“We haven’t been given authorization. We’re not supposed to shoot in Mega City!” Ageada, another Combat Shuttle leader protested.

“I couldn’t give a damn. I’m not going to stay in here while our people are dying. The Chosen are using fucking trucks, our people can deal with a lot, but trucks? That’s something that Combat Shuttles were made for. You can stay here if you want, but I’m not going to leave our people out there.” Yu walked out, and Bobbie and Young followed.

“Talked to Chief Wallow, she’s got us loaded and ready. She’ll have our bird warmed up and ready by the time we get there,” Bobbie said.

“I’ve got flight plans and the latest scans of the perimeter,” Young said

“It’s like you two were planning on fighting the Chosen.” Yu commented with a raised eyebrow.

“I remember someone saying that it was a good practice to be ready for anything and everything.” Young tapped her chin as if in thought.

“Seems he was right,’ Bobbie smiled.

“Bunch of flatterers, now?” Yu smiled back; he couldn’t have asked for a better crew.

The elevator shot upwards to the landing pad, where Combat Shuttles, scarred from battle, were loaded and ready rested, waiting to be called into action.

Other elevators reached the flight deck.

They saluted Yu as they each made their way to their Combat Shuttles.

“Seems that we’re not the only ones with the idea,” Bobbie said, pulling on his helmet.

Chief Wallow was standing in front of her Combat Shuttle. She was a severe looking woman who was bulky from working with Combat Shuttles first hand. She ran a tight maintenance team who were grinning as they worked on the Combat Shuttles and ran checks.

“Bout time you flyers started getting up here. Wondered how long it would take before your adrenaline-addled minds got sorted out.”

“Sorry, chief.”

“Well at least you’re here now,” she said with a rare smile. “When they hear that you three are going into the sky, well, the rest are going to have to outdo you. You Combat Shuttle pilots are all nuts.”

“We aim to please,” Bobbie said, giving an exaggerated bow as he and Young moved to check the exterior of their Combat Shuttle.

“Try not to ding up my bird too much, Yu,” she said.

“Who me?” Yu tried to look shocked.

Yu might have been the pilot and Combat Crew leader, but Wallow owned the Combat Shuttle. Yu was only given the privilege of flying her if Wallow so deemed.

“Yes, you,” Wallow said.

“I’ll try my best, chief.”

“Good luck,” she said, holding out her hand.

“Thanks,” Yu took it, shaking it. He took a deep breath, turning to his Combat Shuttle. “Bobbie, Young how we looking?”

“Good to go,” Bobbie said walking into the cargo bay, checking the ammunition crates that were locked into the decking.

“Engines are purring, armors being fixed up, flaps replaced,” Young said, moving between the ammunition crates to the cockpit.

“Sealing her up,’ Bobbie said, the rear ramp coming up and the cargo hold’s lights coming on as Yu stepped into the cockpit. He pulled his helmet on and got into his seat. Outside his window he could see other Combat Shuttle crews getting into their rides.

A few landing pads were already being pushed up towards the flight pad on the floor above.

Yu flicked switches, the engines coming alive and turning on various systems. Checks started automatically cascading data down Yu’s vision.

He barely glanced at it, picking up the necessary information by the lights and lines.

“Flight path input, looking good on systems. Missiles loaded and ready,” Young said.

“Someone fucked with my seat, but we’re good on guns,” Bobbie said.

Yu laughed, nerves making his arms and hands tingle. He rubbed his hands together, clapping to try and return normal sensations to them.

His augments calmed him and focused him. “Okay, let’s go fuck some trucks up. Young, get us up a floor. Bobbie, stay awesome. Checking flaps.” Yu pressed a button, his seat sliding forward so he was in front of his command console.

The landing pad that they were on started rising up to the floor above.

Yu checked the flap controls around him, glancing at different sensor feeds to make sure that they were doing what they were supposed to.

He moved the engines around and tilted the flight stick.

“Everything’s looking good,” he said as the landing pad locked to the floor above. They were moved to the edge of the flight deck as other Combat Shuttles rose with them.

“Flight plan input,” Young said.

“Landing pad locks disengaged,” Bobbie reported.

“Let’s go shoot something.” Yu powered the engines, rising off the landing pad. Young retracted the landing struts as Yu powered forward, and his engines accelerated, but it wasn’t enough to get them the lift they needed.

“I fucking hate this!” Bobbie said as they tilted forward and went into a steep dive, building speed.

Yu pulled them out of it, the engines coming to full power as they shot away from the citadel, banking towards the edge of the electrostatic wall.

“Inputting targeting data,” Yu said.

“Go it,” Bobbie said.

“I see it,” Yu confirmed. Weaving around the towers that made up Mega City. There were so many of them that they were constantly banking one way or another as Yu curved around their glass and metal faces.

“Stupid bastards are just sitting at home watching it all,” Young said, sending Yu a feed from the sensors.

People were standing at their windows, watching the Combat Shuttles pouring out of the citadel and weaving through their city.

“Stay on task people,” Yu said.

“Coming on target. Five minutes,” Young said.

Yu weaved past another tower and banked hard, skimming the surface of the shield.

“Targets!” Young yelled, and in the same breath Bobbie opened up with the auto-turrets.

Missiles ripple-fired from their wing-mounted pods.

With the increased visibility, Young could hit a pin from kilometers away. Heavies mounted on the trucks fired back at the Combat Shuttles, but they were too far away to do any real damage unless Yu flew straight.

Yu wasn’t about to make it easy for the Chosen, he weaved and spun. Bobbie fired the auto-turrets, raking Chosen and the lightly armored vehicles. Young dealt with the trucks, missiles streaking down to meet the large behemoths.

“Fuckers are better armored than I thought,” Young hissed as she sent another barrage of missiles down. Explosions followed in their wake. Two Combat Shuttles came down over the towers, moving into position on Yu’s wings.

“Four-Seven-Two, this is One-Zero-Five and One-Two-Seven-Nine. Thought you could use some company.”

“Welcome to the party. I don’t know how long we’ll get out here but let’s make it count,” Yu said. He banked hard to his right and then cut over to his left.

The high-g maneuver threw him around in his seat, but the five trucks that were grouped together were too slow to follow him as One-Two-Seven-Nine came in low and deadly, its auto-cannons ripping through the trucks.

“Nice shooting, One-Two-Seven-Nine,” Yu said.

“Ortiz is on the line,” Young said.

“Patch him in,” Yu said. Young went back to shooting as Ortiz connected.

“Yu, what the hell are you doing?” Ortiz hissed.

“Our people can’t handle these trucks with just their Screamers. Combat Shuttles can though, thought we’d help out.”

“You fucking idiotic bastard. I could kiss you. Though officially this conversation never happened and I didn’t tell you to fly for as long as possible while I try to go tell the rich pricks to shove their shit,” Ortiz said.

“Yes, sir, I’ll do my best.” Yu laughed, smiling as he weaved around a tower and back out into the fight again. One-Zero-Five took the lead.

“We don’t have much time, let’s get as many of these fuckers as we can before we get court-martialed,” Yu said.

Green lights came from all of the Combat Shuttle’s crews.

Chapter 63

Tower

Earth, Sol System

6/3349

Nivad had stayed in his office, it was secure in the bottom of the tower with security that rivaled the citadel’s.

Dalia had set up in his office, on the large couches behind the two chairs in front of his wide desk.

“The Combat Shuttles are making an unauthorized run against the Chosen,” Dalia said.

Nivad had been honestly wondering what had kept them waiting this long.

“Good, now that they are fighting the Chosen we can keep the corporation types interested in watching the video instead of how they think the Troopers will rip their city apart. Have Wallace give Ortiz quiet authorization, but make it look to the people like we disapprove. The only condition is that they do their runs at the electrostatic barrier,” Nivad said.

“Yes, sir,” Dalia said, bending to work.

Nivad looked down at the report that had arrived in his personal mail. M was making progress, but it was slow going. Admiral Hall would reach Mars in two weeks, then it would be decided one way or another.

The security contractors are waiting till the last minute, when we’re desperate and they can drive the price up.

Nivad had seen it all the time between rival corporations.

The longer the security contractors waited, the better their bargaining position.

“Have your people on Mars been able to find out anything of importance about the security contractors?” Nivad looked at Dalia.

“They think that the security contractors will back our play. We have a few people ready to put pressure on the larger players.”

“We need to know what they’re thinking,” Nivad said.

“We have agents within all of the security contractors. I could activate them if needed.”

Activating them meant that they might be found out by their fellows.

“For now we wait; if we get to the last week and they have not made their decision, then it might be of use to activate them,” Nivad said.

“Yes, sir.” Dalia made a note on her surface.

Chapter 64

Mega City

Earth, Sol System

6/3349

“Prepare to move back to secondary positions,” Mark said.

The Chosen were closer than Mark liked, and they were moving faster than anyone had expected.

Those fucking trucks and them using cars to get past our first lines is a pain in the ass.

No one had predicted that the Chosen would use vehicles to move forward. Now it made sense to Mark. The Troopers had used them, after all.

Hindsight is always twenty-twenty.

Green lights on his HUD showed units that were pulling themselves together and preparing to move back.

It was slow, as they were under fire, and making sure everything was checked was no small task.

Mark fired his own Repulsor at a vehicle that was rushing right for his position on the second line. Ortiz and his own captains had made him promise to keep his ass off of the front line.

Well, it looks like the front line is coming to me.

A Combat Shuttle came down, its auto-cannons ripping the vehicle apart.

Mark looked for new targets. The front line was just a few hundred meters away with the Chosen not much further beyond.

Like in the Slums, they couldn’t get stuck in long drawn out fights. Here was not where they would hold. Their positions could be swarmed and they had little ability to support one another.

The last light went green.

“Dominguez, get that fire support going,” Mark said.

Artillery fired into the Slums as Combat Shuttles that had been holding back surged forward, throwing the Chosen off balance.

“Pull back!” Mark yelled. Troopers rushed for their exit plans, some racing to the roofs, others to zip lines, hurtling through the air. Mark heard them landing a few floors above his own position.

Chosen that had made it to the second line in their vehicles, fired up at the zip-lining Troopers.

Those on the second line opened up on them with everything they had.

The Combat Shuttles’ and artillery fire slackened, scared to hit their own people.

Combat Shuttles picked Troopers off towers and pulled them back to their next positions.

The Chosen moved into the first line buildings, moving through them to attack the second line positions.

Here and there explosions could be heard or dust and debris were thrown out.

“Well looks like they found our surprises,” Dave said, his face a cold mask as he checked the information on his HUD.

The Chosen weren’t just running across open ground, but had holed up in towers to bring fire down on the Troopers.

They were greeted with the overwhelming fire power of the entrenched Troopers.

“Look at this,” Dominguez said. She was several buildings away, just in case Mark got hit, because then she could take over easily.

Mark looked at the image coming from a Combat Shuttle.

Chosen were moving in larger numbers, and groups of them were running with Heavies.

“They were just trying to push us back, to get a foothold. Now they have it, the real fight begins,” Mark said.

“I fucking hate Chosen,” Dominguez spat.

Mark grunted in agreement, cutting down a Chosen who was firing around a planter.

A tower in front of him exploded outwards in smoke. Someone had tripped the Troopers’ booby traps and every piece of ammunition and usable gear had gone up in an explosion around the Chosen.

Fucking pricks. Mark spat into his dip bottle.

It was oddly quiet compared to the frantic firing of just moments ago. Combat Shuttles and groups of Troopers were still engaged. For Mark and the people on the second line, other than fighting the vehicles that had got between them and the first line, there was suddenly a distinct lack of targets.

“Sir, Captain Ko was stuck on the first line with a half section of others,” Ngyuyen, his regimental sergeant major said.

Mark felt his blood go cold, then he heard the screams.

***

Fusaro walked into Mega City. It had been ripped apart in the fighting, entire sides of the closest towers had been cleared of glass. Bullet holes showed through the windows and walls. Trucks and other vehicles lay burning across the cermite pad.

Even with all of the destruction, and the PACs lying across the ground, Mega City was beautiful and powerful.

All of the Colonies’ towers put together didn’t make up half of the towers in Mega City. None of them had the variety. They curved and weaved, some more art than building.

This was where the richest and most powerful people in the universe called home.

And it showed, every building was a massive palace, a declaration of the powerful demonstrating their power.

“Sir,” Baashir said, breaking Fusaro out of his thoughts and moving him forward.

“It’s quite a sight,” Fusaro said.

“Capitalism and the rich showing off their wealth to one another. It’s nothing more than a painted spaceship. It looks good, but none of it can hide the truth underneath. Corruption and brutality built this place and we will tear it down,” Baashir said.

You are more naive than you know.

Fusaro entered a tower, there were holes through the wall and the Troopers’ spray-ite covering it. Weapons positions had been destroyed by the Troopers, and mangled metal and empty casings littered the area. Chosen were quickly putting together Heavy guns on their large tripods.

Blood and dust covered the floor. There might not be any Trooper bodies, but it was clear it had been a hard fought battle. From the blood and gore, Fusaro knew that more than one Trooper hadn’t survived.

“We have captured some of the Troopers. We will make a display of them for the others. Teach them a lesson,” Baashir said, following Fusaro’s gaze to the blood.

“A display?” Fusaro asked.

“As we have been cleansed of our sins through Harmony’s purifying and uniting fire, we will now cleanse humanity of the Trooper dogs,” Baashir said, his smile cold and ugly.

Fusaro could tell them not to, though it would make him look like he was sympathizing with the Troopers. It would also make it look like he was going against Harmony scripture.

They might have twisted the words to their needs, but their fanaticism is why we picked them. What are a few Troopers to keep the Chosen happy?

“Of course,” Fusaro nodded. “See to the arrangements.”

“It will be my pleasure, sir,” Baashir said, bowing. “For the sake of Harmony!”

“For the sake of Harmony,” Fusaro said, relieved to have the man out of his presence.

***

“Sir,” one of the Troopers pointed up at another tower, sounding as if they couldn’t believe their eyes.

Tyler followed their finger, using his scope to follow it.

Tied up to desks were four Troopers, they were naked, their bodies scarred and bleeding. Their genitals and chest were bleeding. Two had had their eyes gouged out.

One was missing all of their limbs, and had had their jaw pulled out. Their head was pulled back to show their face.

Ko.

“Mark,” Tyler said.

“I see it. Let’s put them out of their misery, there isn’t anything else we can do,” Mark said. Tyler had heard that voice before when he’d rescued Mark from Osdal’s Mining Camp.

A fire started under the Troopers’ feet, the desks catching on fire.

Tyler stepped out of his Powered Armor and grabbed his AMR. He used a desk to steady himself, dialing in the range. He saw one of the four Troopers sag as a shot rang out. Mark had hit one, and their head dropped forward.

Tyler breathed out, stroking the trigger on his AMR. It slammed back, putting another Trooper out of their misery.

He fired again, hitting another who was smiling, knowing what was coming.

He looked at Ko. Despite his appearance, he looked proud.

A Trooper to the end, Tyler thought, as Mark’s round tore a hole in Ko’s chest, the man’s body slumping against his restraints.

A Combat Shuttle came in, its missiles ripping into the tower, all of its guns tearing through the floor.

It unleashed the full fury of the Troopers. Trucks tried to fire on it with their Heavies, and Screamers were let loose, even if they were at an obscure angle.

Tyler lowered his rifle, looking to the Trooper beside him.

There wasn’t anger or determination in those eyes, there was pure fury.

“No mercy.” Ortiz’s voice was like cold steel.

“No mercy,” Tyler agreed, with resolute promise.

Chapter 65

HC Tempest

Mars, Sol System

6/3349

Quinn sat back in his seat, rubbing his face. Choi, who had been lying on the bed, rubbed his shoulders, easing the tension between them.

“Anything a problem?” she whispered into his ear.

“Security contractors, they love to try and one-up each other and get the better contract. Finally secured their services. They’ll begin loading in a week. Admiral Hawking says that he is confident we will destroy the two Earth Carriers headed for us, and then we can finally claim our place on Earth. I do hate dealing with the small details,” Quinn sighed, Choi’s fingers were working their magic.

“Soon it will be over, my dear,” Choi said, nibbling on his ear.

“Oh?” Quinn asked, pulling her onto his lap as she started kissing his face and neck.

“We will have to be proper corporation elites when we arrive on Earth. It will not do for me to show up with a hickey,” she teased, kissing him.

“Oh, and it will be fine if I do?”

“A woman must claim her territory,” Choi said playfully.

Chapter 66

Citadel

Earth, Sol System

6/3349

Moretti was drained, he had finally got the contract with the security contractors. He sent it to Nivad.

Moments later he got approval. He sent it back to the four different contractors.

They’d been lower than he’d feared. They knew that their services were in high demand, but they weren’t stupid enough to try and piss Nivad off.

Moretti felt his head loll to the side in a need for sleep, but a ping woke him. It seemed that the security contractors were as efficient as Nivad.

Moretti sent a message to Nivad and opened a channel to Admiral Hall.

Hall came to the screen a few minutes later, pulling Moretti out of his tired loll. His head ducked and weaved as he fought to stay awake.

“Moretti?” Hall asked, sounding as tired as Moretti felt.

“Contract is ratified and agreed, if the contractors take it.” Moretti shrugged, using the seat rest on his chair.

Whoever made this thing is a genius.

“When will we know if it worked or not?” Hall asked.

“A week.”

“You look like shit,” Hall said.

“I’m going to bed,” Moretti stood. He’d done his duty, and he was practically asleep in his chair.

“Thanks for seeing this through, Moretti,” Hall said.

Moretti could tell he meant it, and smiled. “Your idea, but I’ll take you up on that beer.”

“You sly devil, you,” Hall smiled. “Fine, I’ll get you a beer. If we pull this off, then I’ll pay for all the beer you can drink in a night.”

“That I will hopefully take you up on. Good luck, Hall.” Moretti gave a tired salute.

“Night, Moretti,” Hall said, turning off the screen.

Moretti sank back into his chair.

I need to go to bed, but this is so comfortable.

Finally, he felt someone shaking him awake. He’d dozed off.

“Time to get you into bed,” Daher, his on again-off again lady friend outside of work, said.

“Only if you promise me a date,” Moretti replied, sleep-drunk.

“Okay,” she said smiling.

I am on a winning streak! Go, Moretti go!

Chapter 67

HC Tempest

Mars, Sol System

6/3349

“The mercenaries have finished loading,” one of the aides said. Hawking was having his afternoon tea.

The Harmony crew didn’t approve of using the mercenaries. Though it seemed that Quinn had made them see sense, and showed that the security contractors wanted to pull down the old regime.

I was wondering what he was going to do to remove what was left of Harmony.

The ease with which Quinn had called up the security contractors and started negotiations put Hawking’s mind at ease.

When he took his position in the leadership change, with Quinn becoming the Head of the Ministry of Intelligence, someone needed to deal with the Harmony forces.

Hawking sure didn’t want to deal with them.

“Very well, invite their leaders to meet with me if they might. I am interested in seeing how their loyalties lie,” Hawking said.

“Yes, sir.” The aide seemed to approve.

Little shit doesn’t know I mean to support our needs, not Harmony’s. Idiot.

Hawking sighed, trying to clear his mind as he sipped his tea.

***

Hawking was in his room when the security contractors arrived. They were all wearing armor and had impressive security details.

Hawking didn’t bat an eye. He understood that Harmony wouldn’t like them much and they would be killing off the Harmony serfs sooner rather than later.

“It’s so good to see you,” Hawking said. The security officers stepped into the room, studying one another as much as the man in front of them as the door closed behind them.

“You too, Admiral,” said a woman with her hair cut short and a scar down her face.

“It is good to get away from the rabble that’s out in Housapel. I was hoping that we could have a civilized conversation about how we will be dealing with the clean up after we take Earth,” Hawking said, waving them into his living area where he had couches arranged in a circle.

The officers followed him, pulling their helmets off and looking at one another with varying emotions.

Hawking led the way, suddenly feeling pain through his neck and into his body.

“The fuck did you do that for?” one of the officers asked as Hawking dropped to the ground, coughing up blood.

Why does it hurt so much? I should get a painkiller, and this cough! I must be getting a cold.

“You took Nivad’s contract too, didn’t you?” one of the others hissed.

“Of course, only an idiot goes up against that man. Though we could have given this idiot to him,” the woman said.

Hawking looked at the floor, his body was getting colder. He coughed again, seeing blood in front of him.

I’m hurt.

“Shit, well we’ve got a few hours. Let’s get a plan sorted out, and then we take this fleet. People are going to start wondering where this fucker is,” the second speaker said.

“We’ll split the bounty four ways, though whoever takes Quinn keeps that bastard alive. The bounty on his head is worth the entire job,” the woman said.

Hawking died listening to the security contractors bicker about how they would break up their bounties.

***

Quinn looked up from Miss Choi when he thought he heard something.

“Harder baby,” Choi said, pulling him back in.

“I thought I heard something,” Quinn said, looking around as he tried to pin down the noise.

Choi pulled him downwards, taking his mind off noises and turning his attention back to her.

She sighed with pleasure as he continued what he’d been doing.

She moaned and then Quinn heard another noise. It sounded tinny, but loud.

He shook it aside. He would make sure that whoever was making that noise was dealt with afterwards.

The door to his living quarters opened.

“Get out!” Peter yelled.

“Sir, the contractors turn...” the head of Quinn’s security began. He was interrupted by loud noises in the hallway outside Quinn’s living quarters. Weapons fire.

“We need to leave, sir,” the head of security said.

“Get dressed,” Quinn said to Choi, rushing to his closet and pulling out a one-piece of armored clothing.

He stumbled into it, almost falling a few times as he tried to get dressed.

The sounds were getting closer and closer.

“Let’s get going,” Quinn said, taking Choi’s hand and indicating for the security head to lead.

There was gunfire outside the room now.

“We need to go out the back way,” the security head said, changing directions. He’d started walking for the hidden hatch when his head exploded.

Quinn let go of Choi’s hand, covering his ears at the noise and cowering on the floor.

He looked at what was left of his Head of Security. He had seen violence on screens, but it had been distant. Other people dying. Idiots dying for causes that they didn’t understand. This man had been Quinn’s Head of Security for the last hundred years of service.

There were few people he’d trusted more, and they were dead.

He threw up at the sight of what was left of the man’s head.

“Seems that it’s easier for you to see it on the screens than in reality,” Choi remarked.

Quinn looked up at her, and she was holding a pistol, pointing it at him.

“The fuck, Choi? He was going to help us get out of here,” Quinn yelled.

“Stay there and don’t stand up,” Choi said.

“The fuck are you talking about?” he asked, getting to his feet.

Blinding pain struck him and he fell to the floor. Choi had shot him in the knee, and it was a wreck. The bones that were left were grating against one another, and against open nerves, tendons, and muscles. Quinn screamed in pain.

“Sorry, baby, but you taught me not to place it all on one bet,” Choi said.

Security contractors rushed into the room, their guns on Quinn and Choi.

“Don’t shoot, you idiots. Secure him; he’s Peter Quinn. I’m one of Nivad’s agents. Get me a line to Dalia, she will be expecting me,” Choi said.

“You bitch,” Quinn groaned.

“That may be, but at least I’m not scared to get my hands dirty. Don’t worry, baby. Nivad will probably be interested in getting his hands very dirty, making sure that he wrings every last inch of life out of you,” Choi smiled sadly. “A shame to ruin such a good looking face.”

“Kill her, I’ll make you all rich! You could buy a station all for yourselves!” Quinn yelled.

“And piss off Nivad? We’re not suicidal. Livie, tie him up and throw him into cryo. Miss, please drop the pistol; we will have you talk to Dalia, but until anything is confirmed we can’t be sure of your identity,” the leader of the security contractors said.

“Very well.” Choi tossed her pistol away and moved towards the security contractors.

Quinn cried on the floor as his world and plans came apart at the seams.

Chapter 68

EMFC Fearless

Mars,

Sol System

6/3349

“We have a signal coming from the Harmony Carriers,” Guy said as the EMF fleet continued to move towards Mars and the Harmony fleet orbiting it.

“Is it from the security contractors?” Hall asked, leaning forward in his seat.

“Yes, sir, connecting you now.”

There were four different security contractors, all wearing different emblems, and a beautiful woman.

“Report,” Hall said.

“We have secured the vessels. Admiral Hawking is dead, Peter Quinn is alive and in cryo,” one of the contractors said.

“Very well, we will come aboard shortly to take over command of the vessels. Once that is complete, your fee for taking the ships will be paid,” Hall smiled.

“Looking forward to it,” the contractor said. All of them were smiling, they were all probably millionaires now.

Not bad for a few weeks of work.

Then, the security contractors seemed to shift uncomfortably.

“Out with it,” Hall said.

“Sir, we need to contact Nivad, we possibly have one of his agents aboard the ship. Miss Choi here. We don’t have any direct way of contacting the Ministry of Intelligence. We were wondering if you would like to take custody and confirm her identity.”

“Very well, we will,” Hall agreed.

“We also have Harmony personnel fighting back across the ship. We have the major locations but not the force to secure it all.” They didn’t like having to admit that.

“Seal all of the sections that hold your personnel, and vent the atmosphere in the other areas,” Hall said.

“Sir, that would eject them into space!” One of the contractors looked appalled.

“This is war. Harmony won’t stop fighting until all of them are dead. By the end of Fernix, they were blowing themselves up to try and kill more of the Troopers and destroy Carriers. If left alive, then they will figure out a way to kill your people, at the very least. On Earth they tortured Troopers for a week before stringing them up for everyone to see, and setting them on fire. They know no mercy, and we will show them none,” Hall’s voice was cold.

“Yes, sir. We don’t know the controls of these things very well, so if your people could deal with that?” the leader asked.

Don’t want the blood on your hands.

“I am continuing at my least-time intercept, I will have personnel to take over operations of the carriers in,” Hall checked his screens as Yeltsin did a flight path, “just under two days.”

“Thank you, sir.”

“Once we have control of the Carriers, we will transfer your people over to Fearless and Justice to transport back to Earth. At best speed it will take us three months to reach Earth. I would like to get started sooner rather than later,” Hall said.

“As soon as the Harmony threat is dealt with here then we will be ready to board your ships,” the leader said.

“Very well, we shall see one another shortly,” Hall said, closing the channel.

Chapter 69

Mega City

Earth, Sol System

7/3349

Mark opened his helmet, his vision blurry. He could hear the fighting happening just meters away. He unlocked his Powered Armor, and with numb fingers he connected power leads to charge the machine.

He looked around the office. It was the heart of the corporations, the heart of the corporatocracy he lived in. Just another cog in the machine.

Something in him snapped; the tension, the anger, the pain, all turned to rage and he grabbed a desk and started using it like a club to break the cubicles around him. He punched, kicked and smashed the cubicles till his fists were bloody and the office had been thrown into chaos.

He slumped against a desk, his body shaking as he cried.

Why, why, did they have to die so that I could survive and throw more people to their deaths?

Mark cried, streaks running down his cheeks.

He felt a hand on his shoulder, and he flinched, hiding his face, his weakness, and pain.

“It’s okay,” Dominguez said, squatting next to Mark.

Mark looked up at her. The sadness in her eyes was overwhelming. The dam broke and tears fell down her face.

Mark didn’t say anything; he didn’t need to. He pulled her into a hug as the two of them silently cried. Two more broken people that had lost so much that they never thought they could get it back.

After some time, Dominguez and Mark untangled themselves, sitting against the broken cubicles, staring at nothing.

“I knew Ko from back on my old carrier, we went through boot camp training together. He was always a good friend. Saved my life too many times to count. Remember when he tried to breathe fire and nearly set that room in Osdal alight?” Dominguez said, laughing through the tears.

“Yeah, Dooks was so drunk he poured his liquor on it,” Mark said.

“Then Dashtund declared himself as Osdal’s fire department and tried to use his shirt,” Dominguez took a sharp breath.

“Set it on fire and then tossed it out of the room. I remember you came along and dumped a bucket of ice in his pants and then on the floor,” Mark laughed.

“Well, the first was funny and the carpet fire was starting to spread. I don’t remember you doing much to help,” Dominguez said.

“Oh, I was waaay too drunk to move. Nearly threw up from laughing too hard,” Mark chuckled.

“Damn, they were the best of the best,” Dominguez sighed.

“To the Triple Twos, to our people that live on through us,” Mark said, holding up an arm.

“Never forget,” Dominguez replied, tapping his arm in the Powered Armor way of agreement.

“Fuck, I need a drink.”

“Me too, we all do.”

In the distance, Mark heard heavy machine guns firing and Repulsors returning fire. Combat Shuttles’ engines tore through the air.

An explosion rocked the building, and some of the nearer sounds of heavy machine guns stopped.

“Get some sleep, and try not to break too many more cubicles,” Dominguez said, standing and flicking something at Mark. “There are some showers just down the hall. You look like you need it, and you damn well smell like it.”

“Thank you, Division Sergeant Major,” Mark said, stroking the beard that had grown as he had focused on fighting more than shaving.

“Any time, Major,” she said, rubbing his face clear of any signs of tears.

They had both just needed some time to figure themselves out. They still hadn’t fully, but it was enough to deal with what had to be done.

Mark stood, pushing a cubicle over.

“Oh, come on!” Dominguez said.

“It was like that when I got here.”

“You’re a terrible liar. Go get cleaned up and get some sleep. The Chosen have pushed through the first line. We’ve got a few hours until they get to the third.”

“Alright,” Mark said, pausing. “Thanks, Dominguez.”

“No worries, Mark, any time you want to talk memories or have a beer, I’m here.”

“Thanks, same for you,” Mark said.

“Well, if you’re buying, Mister Corporation Officer,” she smiled.

Mark shook his head and walked off in the direction of the waypoint she’d given him.

Chapter 70

Tower

Earth, Sol System

7/3349

Nivad lit up a new cigarette. Its stimulants eased his mind, and made him feel more alert as a channel request opened on his desk.

He checked the person, taking another drag.

“M,” Nivad said simply, again sucking on his cigarette.

“Sir, as you know we have recovered the person in Quinn’s employ. I have been going through the information. First, it looks like Quinn had support from many of the corporation officers on Housapel. They have been secluded away in cryo-pods,” M reported, as an attachment appeared in Nivad’s inbox.

Nivad went through the names, frowning.

“One of the people I have identified is the leader of the Osdal Chapter, known as Luke,” M said.

Nivad found the highlighted name. “Good work, M. I will have the carriers in Housapel brought out of limbo to deal with these threats.”

“Yes, sir. We also found out about all of Quinn’s purchases. I have brought over his accounts into the Ministry of Intelligence’s purview. Also, in the contract we signed with the security contractors, we now own the Harmony Carriers. Selling them might make for a nice retirement gift for the Troopers,” M suggested.

Nivad looked over the accounts. Quinn’s own resources were not inconsiderable. They would, in fact, pay for the training and building of half of the Trooper force that Nivad had created.

The retirement funds might be an idea, it would also give them the option to go to another planet and live comfortably. Reward for loyalty.

“Interesting ideas. Well done with the Carriers and the accounts. How is our agent?” Nivad asked.

“She is happy to give us any information that we want. She seems to be playing the corporation game with more than one person on Earth.”

“That is normal. Once she is on Earth she will not want to leave, and we have given her enough backing to make her comfortable and a possible asset in the future,” Nivad said.

“Yes, sir. Admiral Hall will arrive in two months with the security contractors and Quinn. It might be best to offload Quinn onto Resolute Station, so that we do not lose him in the action going on in the war raging in Mega City.”

“Very well, yes, we do not want him to escape our clutches,” Nivad agreed.

“Yes, sir.”

“Let me know if anything new arises,” Nivad said, taking a drag.

“Yes, sir.”

Nivad cut the call, looking at the information M had sent him. He exhaled the cigarette smoke, and sent a message to the Carriers holding position in Housapel.

Chapter 71

Citadel

Earth, Sol System

7/3349

Ortiz looked at the map. Troopers and Chosen were fighting from building to building. Sometimes the Chosen got a car and rammed it into a Trooper-controlled building, trying to gain entry.

It wasn’t the most effective tactic. So then they started strapping bombs to them.

The Chosen were advancing quickly, whittling the Troopers down to three hundred thousand strong.

“McPherson, give the order to prepare to pull back to the citadel,” Ortiz said, his jaw working.

The citadel was the last position that the Troopers could pull back to. They would make their stand there, no matter what the Chosen brought against them.

Either they held the citadel, or the Troopers and Earth and Her Colonies were doomed.

“The order has gone out,” McPherson said.

“Good, it’s time we ended this thing.” Ortiz felt much older than his forty something years.

There wasn’t anything that they could use to push the Chosen back to give the Troopers room to retreat. The towers were too close together to get artillery in. The Combat Shuttles couldn’t do anything but transport people and supplies this far inside the city.

They would be doing their best to pull back, but Ortiz knew it was not going to be pretty. It was the order he had to give to fulfill their mission.

Lose people in their little fights out in the city, or bring them together, and create a position of power. Have units capable of supporting one another and make a stand.

It was the best of the terrible choices.

Chapter 72

Mega City

Earth, Sol System

7/3349

Jerome looked over the Troopers, they were all fighting with everything they had, Repulsors barely stopped as ammunition was run to them.

Heavies fired back, but still the Troopers stayed in their positions.

Someone was hit by a Heavy, falling back, and medics were on them in minutes. Another Trooper took their place as the Repulsors tracked the Heavy. Screamers opened up new holes in the tower that had fired on them.

Ortiz had passed the orders to Lieutenant Colonel Shultz, who’d passed it on to his Force and divisions.

Troopers across Mega City were ready for what was coming next. All of the Troopers, except those on the first line, had packed up their gear and were ready to move.

“Second and third line, pull back,” Ortiz ordered. On Jerome’s map, he saw as the Troopers ran from their positions, sprinting for vehicles, or just straight running for the citadel.

He changed views, looking at the top of the towers that the first line was using. Combat Shuttles waited, ready to move.

Jerome found an unused Repulsor turret; there simply weren’t enough Troopers left to use all of the positions they’d set up.

He fired at the Chosen as the Troopers ran.

There was no change on the front lines. A car came flying around a tower, and Screamers ripped towards it, but it was moving too fast. It hit a building and detonated. Several floors of glass exploded and started raining down as Chosen and their damned trucks moved forward to try and enter the building.

Screamers tore off armor, but the trucks kept going, their heavy machine guns tracking Screamer vantage points and hosing them with rounds. Jerome aimed low, catching one of the armored truck’s tires.

It was shredded, and the truck stopped. Chosen ran from it towards the breached tower.

Jerome changed to fire on them, cutting them down, but there were too many, they were moving too fast, and they had armor that could shrug off a few rounds from the Repulsors.

They made it in as the Troopers in the building started pulling themselves together.

There was a frantic fight in the tower as Troopers and Chosen clashed. The Troopers seemed to get the upper hand, and then one of the Chosen bastards went up in an explosion. The Troopers were either killed or stunned, and Chosen flooded in.

“Fuck you!” Whyte yelled. An explosion ripped through the lower floors of the tower, killing any Chosen in or around it for twenty meters.

“Move to the Combat Shuttles!” Ortiz yelled.

“Move it Troopers! You heard the general!” Tyler snapped.

Troopers moved by groups to the elevators. They'd practiced it a few times. Panicking meant that they would die or leave someone behind. Mines and booby traps were laid as Jerome let go of the Repulsor, getting on the last elevator.

They rode upwards.

The Chosen, not about to lose whatever advantage they had found, moved forward. Jerome felt the explosions on the first floor as he shot upwards to the landing pad.

The elevator stopped and he poured out with other Troopers and onto the Combat Shuttles, the first of which were already dropping off the tower and heading for the citadel.

Jerome looked around, the sky was filled with Combat Shuttles departing with the last defenders of Mega City.

Fighters came in dangerously low, their auto-turrets firing as they rushed past, missiles leaving craters in the ground. To go that fast and low in Mega City was an impressive feat.

Jerome looked away as he saw the first fighter get clipped by a Heavy and it was sent cartwheeling through a tower in a fiery explosion.

Chapter 73

SLS Liberator

Falhor System, En Route to Sol System

7/3349

“The Troopers have pulled back to the citadel. Losses are high on both sides,” NIDenise interrupted Nerva’s breakfast, and it turned to ash in his mouth as he swallowed.

She brought up the list of casualties, highlighting the people that he knew.

Nerva held his hands, resting his forehead against them as he sighed.

“Thank you, Denise,” Nerva said some time later. People let him be as he ate his food in silence, not even tasting it, as his eyes saw people that he would never meet again.

He just hoped that there were some left for him to save when he reached Earth.

Chapter 74

Citadel

Earth, Sol System

7/3349

It took nearly a week for the Chosen to advance towards the citadel – they were being careful to look out for traps and ambushes.

Tyler had taken over the scouts that were left, and worked through the towers, using Combat Shuttles to get from position to position.

They’d hit any Chosen that they could find, and targeted any vehicles and trucks the Chosen had been using with Screamers. They’d even caught a few suicide cars. The Chosen shied away from them, making them easier to identify as targets.

While Tyler had been gone, Ortiz and the other officers had reformed.Regiments, but were barely two whole platoons.

Troopers were given new positions, and formed into new complete units.

They slept, ate, and worked on their positions. The citadel had been turned into a fortress. There was little remaining of the pristine floors and walls of the citadel’s lobby.

Barricades had been erected surrounding the entire citadel, and Repulsors were set up on the first three floors.

AMR shooters were sown throughout. The open area around the citadel had been turned into a killing field, with artillery targets dialed in to hit anything in it.

Planters were still dotted around in pleasant collections, as if they weren’t in the middle of what was to be the Troopers’ and Chosen’s last battlefield.

Trenches had been cut into the cermite here. It would have taken too long to do it at the other positions, so it had all been focused here. Bunkers and trenches extended around the citadel with entrances behind the Troopers’ front lines in the lobby.

Tyler tapped the Combat Shuttle missile pod that had been hooked up to a remote launcher. The entire floor had been cleared out to make room for the dozen homemade launchers.

“Well, this is it,” Mark said, smoking a cigar as he sat on a pile of desks.

“Yeah,” Jerome said, also smoking.

Alexis stood next to Tyler, shivering as she looked down at the ground below. “Ugh, I hate heights.”

Tyler smiled, putting an arm around her waist and pulling her to him. “Don’t worry I won’t let you fall.” He turned towards the others who were gathering for possibly the last time.

There were Yu, Young, and Bobbie wearing the armor of Troopers. They’d been issued Powered Armor, that they were decent at using. Thankfully, when they’d had extra time before all of this, they’d trained with the Armor enough to be proficient.

Ortiz, Mark, Jerome, and Dominguez were smoking cigars. There was no one else left from the Triple Twos any more.

Just five of us left.

Essa, Tyler’s captain, was talking to Jerome about Troop positions. Kim, her second, was listening in. Nguyen had replaced Ko, Yule was with the medics. Alexis’ new second, Eriksson, had stepped up and taken Yule’s spot until such time as she was fixed up.

Both Eriksson and Nguyen were passed out, sleeping across desks.

They were a sad sight, tired men and women with well maintained but well used Armor. They bore the scars of their battles on their bodies and their very souls. It showed in their eyes when they’d sink into the memories.

Alexis squeezed Tyler, bringing him out of those thoughts as he settled onto the pile of desks. It wasn’t that comfortable, but it was somewhere to sit.

“I’m taking a nap,” Alexis said, curling up.

Tyler kissed her forehead. “Okay, babe.” A part of his mind wondered if he would get to see her again tomorrow.

She kissed him back, smiling, and getting comfortable. In minutes she was asleep.

“Never thought that we’d be fighting from the citadel,” Mark said, still smoking.

“Me neither, this place has more secrets than I thought possible,” Ortiz said.

“And we’re going to use them all to make sure the Chosen have a terrible time,” Jerome said, pointing to Ortiz with his cigar.

“That we will, that we will,” Ortiz agreed, smoking and looking at the ceiling.

“Never thought being a Trooper would be like this. Thought it would all be cool-looking uniforms, advancing on the enemy that were so scared of seeing our Trooper greys that they’d throw their weapons down. Guess that’s why they wanted us so young and impressionable,” Tyler mused.

“Dumb kids who think they know the universe, that’s us alright,” Dominguez said with a small smile.

“Not much ever changes with that,” Mark agreed, smiling.

They lapsed into silence.

“Always thought that following the Victors would make us some kind of super soldiers, but we’re still people, and you’re still smelly as hell,” Essa said.

“Watch out, captain, I might try and give you a promotion,” Ortiz threatened, getting a few laughs. The losses were too recent and the tension for the coming fight too high to get anything more than chuckles.

“Just people stuck in extraordinary circumstances,” Mark said around his cigar.

The media and the Ministry of Intelligence might make them look like heroes, but the reality was that they were just people who had survived where so many others had died.

Moretti walked in the room, and everyone awake looked at him.

“Got a cigar?” he asked.

Mark snorted and tossed him a box. He opened it, sniffing the cigars before pulling one out. He cut the ends, lit it, and tossed the box back.

He sat down on the desks and looked out over Mega City.

“Everyone’s gone to ground, even the dumbest of the corporation officers have crawled into some kind of hole,” Moretti said.

“Even rats have brains,” Jerome sighed, letting out a stream of smoke.

“Yeah.” Moretti leaned back into the overturned desks and looked out over the city, past the Combat Shuttle missile pods.

“Don’t worry, it won’t roast us unless it’s firing, and we should get a warning before that,” Young said, smoking her cigarette. Yu had passed out and Bobbie was smoking his own cigar beside him.

“Well, that might be sooner rather than later. You should get some sleep. I’ll let you know when they’re a few hours away. Nivad wants me to be running reports instead of fighting. Probably wouldn’t be much help in a fight, but still wish I was with you all,” Moretti looked over them.

“We know,” Tyler said, speaking for them all.

“Thanks,” Moretti sighed, still not happy with the situation.

Tyler leaned against the desk. All of them were smoking, or watching the city, they were all tired and each had their own thoughts to deal with.

Tyler only realized he’d fallen asleep when Moretti shook him awake.

The others were standing up and Alexis looked like she really wanted to sleep another few hours as she stretched beside Tyler.

“The Chosen are about two hours away,” Moretti said.

Tyler felt his face harden as he opened his implants and started going through his mental list of checks.

“Well let’s go finish these bastards off,” Mark said, stretching and cracking his neck.

***

Alexis gave Tyler one long last kiss. She just wanted to run away from it all, just take the Troopers and leave the corporations to sort out their mess themselves.

She knew that it was impossible. If they didn’t do their duty, then the Chosen would win, track them down and torture them. If the corporations won, it would be much the same.

Even as she thought it she dismissed it. These were her Troopers. She wouldn’t leave them behind and this way she could get some payback for those that she’d lost.

She stepped into her Powered Armor. Yule had got out of medical a few hours ago, and Eriksson had dealt with that as Alexis slept. Now she had her second in command back.

Tyler smiled and turned to go find his Powered Armor.

Alexis’ armor closed around her, locking her in.

All throughout the citadel, Troopers were getting into their Armor, checking their gear and moving to their positions. Last minute modifications were made as Alexis walked out of the armory and to an elevator that dropped her to the first floor.

Her people knew their positions and were moving to them quickly.

She came out into the lobby as Repulsor turrets were being loaded. Gunners swivelled the turrets to make sure they were able to traverse. She passed the line set up at the elevators and stairs, then the one where desks had been.

She looked towards the big holes in the floor. She walked down and into the trenches under the line of spray-ite covered barricades that made the lobby’s first line.

The trenches were big enough for two Troopers to walk side by side. People split off, heading through the zigzagging features to the bunkers that lay around the citadel at key points. There were eight in the second line of trenches, and twelve in the first line.

Alexis worked her way to the first line of trenches. Every few meters there were steps that led to Repulsor turrets looking across the open space around the citadel.

Sensor-sticks were picking up heavy movement in the towers around the citadel. The Chosen were getting into position.

“Alright, Slummers, how are we looking?” Alexis asked.

“Alpha Company is good.”

“Bravo Company in position.”

“Charlie Company ready to bring the pain.”

“Good work, now we just have to wait for the Chosen to show up instead of hiding like a bunch of useless fuckers.”

Chapter 75

Mega City

Earth, Sol System

7/3349

Fusaro looked at the citadel, the iron fist of Earth and Her Colonies. Defenses ringed it, with bunkers and trenches sprouting Troopers and Repulsor positions. The there was the solid armored wall that covered the encircling lobby of the citadel.

He looked up at the impressive building. It really did look like a sword pointed towards the heavens. Just three letters were written into its surface.

EMF. Earth’s Military Forces. Three words, but they have trained some of the fiercest warriors in existence.

Fusaro had truly come to appreciate the Troopers. He’d actually felt relieved when the Troopers that the Chosen had tortured had been killed by their own friends.

The Troopers had fought harder and more viciously after that. The Chosen had responded by blowing themselves up while yelling “for the sake of harmony!”

Idiots, what is the use in killing yourself if you can’t appreciate the victory? What drives someone to kill themselves for a cause like that?

Fusaro rubbed his face.

“Do not worry, General, many of the Chosen have volunteered to go in first as true Chosen of Harmony,” Baashir said.

Oh goody, more fucking suicidal maniacs.

“Good, their sacrifice will allow us to strike the EMF down, once and for all.” Fusaro looked at the citadel, so that Baashir couldn’t see his face.

“For the sake of Harmony,” Baashir said.

“For the sake of Harmony,” Fusaro repeated, hating the words and the thing that Quinn had created. Soon enough it would all be wiped clean.

When Quinn and Hawking returned with their security contractors to clear out the Chosen, then Fusaro could rest. He was the only one among the Chosen on Earth that knew the real purpose of Harmony. He couldn’t talk to anyone about their plans. All of their communications were jammed outside of Earth’s atmosphere, and there weren’t any ships to relay messages.

“Baashir, I leave the honor of leading this battle in your hands,” Fusaro said, trying to distance himself from what Baashir and the fanatical Chosen were going to do.

“My General, it will be a great, true honor,” Baashir said, almost prostrating himself before Fusaro.

“Do me proud,” Fusaro said, knowing he was condemning the Troopers he respected to a death that he didn’t want visited on them.

“For the sake of Harmony, it will be so,” Baashir said, saluting.

Fusaro repeated the words and saluted back. The words felt like acid in his mouth, as if he was corrupting himself by saying them.

He left the observation post and went to find somewhere away from the violence.

Chapter 76

Citadel

Earth, Sol System

8/3349

“Here they come,” Ortiz said through every Trooper’s headset as the Chosen started moving forward. Heavy machine guns were moving into position.

Troopers opened up with Repulsors and Screamers. Heavies were torn apart, but there were too many of them to all be destroyed. They fired back, tracers ripping through the air as the first Trooper casualties were reported. Screamers continued to rain down from the higher levels, and AMRs fired as they took out advancing Chosen.

Chosen ran out, carrying ladders and ramps. They crawled and ran, finding mines that had been hidden in the cermite pad.

Many didn’t make it, but the fire was enough to get some to the planters and they put up the ramps that went over them.

Ortiz heard vehicles as they charged out from between buildings. “Fire missile pods,” he shouted.

Missiles erupted from the makeshift launchers, raining down on the incoming vehicles. Few made it to the planters, fewer still made it past.

The lobby and trench Repulsors focused on the Chosen who were using the vehicles as cover. The Screamers, AMRs and Repulsors on the higher floors shot at the vehicles as more missiles rained down to meet the vehicles.

They exploded with more than just the mere force of the missiles.

“They’re all fucking bombs,” Ortiz growled, looking at the frontrunner troops through his sensor feeds. One was hit with Repulsor rounds. They were wearing something across their bodies that went up in a flash, leaving a crater in the cermite pad.

A vehicle made it to the trenches, but its front wheels slid into the trench, stopping it from advancing. The Troopers closest tried to get to the driver, but it was too late. The vehicle went up in a fireball, the explosion focused by the trench as the vehicle flew backwards.

Ortiz watched reinforcements fill the blast zone, techs repairing what they could as the mangled guns were thrown away and new ones put in place.

It went on for twenty minutes, with tracer fire ripping across the battlefield. The vehicles seemed to have been spent.

No more Chosen ran out and the fight started to slow down as fewer Chosen targets showed.

“Looks like we won the first round,” Ortiz said.

Injured were funneled to the medical center, ammunition and supplies were passed forward, and units ran checks.

“The Chosen are shooting at the launchers,” Williamson suddenly announced in alarm.

“Shoot back at them with the launchers, then rake their positions in the other towers,” Ortiz ordered.

“Sir.” Williamson worked the console in front of him.

The launchers fired at the opposing towers, tearing the sides off them and diving deep inside.

No one was left to shoot back as the launchers turned and fired downwards. They swooped in, smashing into the base of the towers, killing Chosen that were working on defenses and preparing for their next offensive.

***

Tyler saw the offensive start off, with light shining off a heavy machine gun in the setting sun.

Someone stepped out, waving forward. Chosen once again poured out of buildings, firing, and moving. Guns that were on higher levels shot over them. Tyler breathed, hitting the one that had been waving. They went up in an explosion.

He hit another and another, barely feeling the recoil as he shot target after target, bringing them to the ground. He reloaded and fired by instinct, his muscles doing it by the rote repetition learned over the years.

Trucks came around the buildings, firing from beside the towers or from inside them. Screamer gunners had to open themselves up for attack in order to fire on the trucks.

A few Chosen made it past the mines and over the planters. None of them made it to the trenches.

Yet, Tyler thought as the Chosen’s second attack was pushed back.

They hadn’t used artillery or most of their tricks yet, but the Chosen were pushing hard enough that Ortiz would have to use them sooner rather than later, otherwise they’d get overrun.

Tyler shot retreating Chosen. He left the ones screaming and writhing on the ground to die.

Let them suffer like Ko.

He put in a new magazine, pushing spent casings away from his spot. A machine came around collecting casings and empty magazines and a tech dropped off extra magazines.

“Thanks,” Tyler said, sorting out the magazines so that they were in easy reach.

It wasn’t long until the Chosen went for their third attack. The sun set as Tracers, Screamer trails, explosions and weapons fire illuminated the night.

***

Mark moved to the side of the trench as the fallen Troopers’ bodies were pulled into the citadel.

Their armor was torn from the blasts of the suicidal Chosen that had leapt into the trenches and detonated themselves.

Not many had got into the lines, but those that had were brutally effective.

The trenches cut into Mega City’s cermite pad served to focus and channel the blast of the bomb-wearing Chosen.

“Mark, you’re not supposed to be up here,” Alexis said as he moved to a Repulsor position and looked over the battlefield that had been the citadel’s square.

“Well, I’m not going to be sitting behind those walls any more. I’m a Trooper, same as you. I’m a fighter,” Mark said.

“You’re a leader,” Alexis sighed.

“Yeah, but I’m not going to be doing much leading from back there, am I? You and the officers know your jobs; the Troopers know their jobs. There’s little need for leadership unless we pull back, and I don’t see that happening for a few days,” Mark said, stepping down from the position and looking at Alexis.

“It’s good to have you up here, Mark.” The two of them tapped arms.

“Just give me a hole to fill and I’ll give you dead Chosen,” Mark said.

Alexis sent him a waypoint.

“They’re coming,” someone said. It was more of a sigh instead of a yell. The Troopers had been rotated on and off the various lines, but they were all on edge and they hadn’t got much sleep over the last week.

Mark jogged to his position, watching as symbols started appearing. Troopers started firing, just a few at first, but then more as the Chosen numbers grew. It was the largest push Mark had seen yet.

He got into his position, stepping up to the Repulsor.

There were Chosen everywhere, firing their damned Heavy machine guns and Metal Storm rifles.

Mark focused on the turret, pulling the two charging handles on each Repulsor.

A round dropped out of both of them as he swung the gun onto target. All of the lines had opened up.

Mark fired, guiding tracers over the biggest groups he could see.

Trucks appeared, and their fire was coordinated. Half of them were firing on the trenches and the barricades, the others were shooting at the Screamer positions and weapon emplacements on higher levels.

A speeder, one of the unarmored but fast vehicles, shot out around the truck nearest Mark. He fired on it, but he couldn’t stop it.

It jumped the planters, coming down in a spray of sparks as it swerved for the trench line. Other tracers were ripping into the vehicle, tearing off paint, metal, and the bodywork of the car.

It didn’t stop as it passed over the first trenches, losing its front tires and flipping. It landed on the second trench, going up in a massive fireball.

There were four more cars using the first’s explosive end to race forward. Mark fired on them, but there were too many and the second line had been fucked up by the first explosion.

A car crashed a few feet away from Mark.

He turned, trying to grab the Repulsor at his side. The car went up and Mark was thrown backwards down the trench.

He woke up some time later.

There were more car wrecks over the lines. He sat up, hissing in pain, and looked down.

“Well, for fuck’s sakes,” he growled, pushing himself to his feet. His front was covered in holes as parts of the car had turned into shrapnel and cut through his armor.

His implants were flashing angry colors at him, and his augments were doing everything in their power to keep him combat capable.

He looked around, there were dead and wounded all over the place. Medics were working their way through them, hauling them to the rear.

Mark stepped up to the nearest gunner nest.

The Chosen were over the planters and working their way forward. They were just a few hundred meters away.

He grabbed the turret and fired back at the bastards that had blown him up.

The pain was hell, though everyone on the line would buy the wounded more time. He knew that the Chosen would make it into the first line of trenches.

“Prepare to draw blades!” Mark yelled to the Troopers on the front lines. He changed channels to Ortiz.

“We need that artillery support, or the Chosen are going to be in our fucking lines,” Mark yelled, something that had hurt more than he’d expected.

“Alright, I won’t give you artillery yet, but we have something else. We need to draw them in, though. Get as many of them out of their towers as possible. This will only work once,” Ortiz warned.

Mark knew what the man was asking.

Hold until you’re just about to be overrun, then we can kill a ton of the bastards, but you and yours might be dead before we can get to you.

“Yes, sir,” Mark said, closing the channel. He checked his blade with one hand, firing his turret with the other. He fired at the Chosen that were hiding behind cars, or in craters made by their buddies blowing themselves up.

“Ready grenades. Get in behind those fucking cars and flush the cunts out!” Alexis barked.

Mark checked her status, she was yellow, which was better than the yellow/red that Mark was showing.

Smart fucking lady that one. Mark grinned, pulling a grenade off of his belt, still firing with one hand.

Sergeant Balhauser would have my head for shooting with one hand like some fucking cowboy. Mark laughed, wincing with pain as he remembered his training sergeant.

Mark primed and tossed a grenade, missing his target and sending it rolling under a car.

It went off, flipping the car onto the Chosen behind it.

“Well fuck, that works,” Mark said, bringing his gun to bear on the fuckers that were trying to get out from under the car. Repulsor rounds cracked their armor.

They did the dead man dance as rounds pinged around inside their armor and Mark found new targets and grabbed another grenade.

The Repulsor went dry, and Mark tossed the grenade, opening the Repulsors up to cool them as much as possible. He threw out the empty ammunition boxes, grabbing new ones and locking them into the Repulsor. Rounds fed in as he closed the guns up and pulled on the charging handles. He fired at the Chosen making a run from just a hundred meters away.

“They’re getting close,” Alexis said in Mark’s helmet.

“We keep shooting for as long as possible, then we need to spread out and use blades. Most of these fuckers are walking bombs. If we clump together, then we’re one nice big juicy target.” Mark hit a Chosen hiding behind the still burning wreckage of a truck.

They went up in an explosion, further deforming the truck.

“Got it,” Alexis said.

“Yule, Nguyen, have your people spread out, get them ready to use their blades. We need to pull in as many of these fuckers as possible. Do not group together, it’ll just make us easier for these bomb fuckers. Try to get into groups of Chosen, that way they kill their own if they turn into flying fucking mince,” Mark said.

Two green lights said that Yule and Nguyen were passing his orders on.

Mark watched word pass through the Troopers as they spread out. Wounded were hauled to the rear and reinforcements took up positions. It wasn’t enough to make up for their losses but it meant that every other turret had a Trooper sitting at it.

“Come on, you motherfuckers, let’s party,” Mark said as Chosen continued to pour out. Trucks were still firing but now just at the barricades and upper floors, scared to hit their own people.

A Chosen made it to the line, and Mark saw an area of the map turn to red and black markers where there’d been greens and yellows.

The Chosen had claimed more of Mark’s Troopers.

He felt his anger building, and it continued to mount as he worked like a machine, killing anything that ran, cutting it down with the precision of a life-long veteran.

More Chosen made it to the lines, jumping, falling, doing anything they could to get into the trenches.

Mark continued to fire as the gunners around him fought with blades.

He cut down a Chosen running right at his position and Mark was thrown backwards as the explosion hit him.

I fucking hate bombs. Mark got to his feet, grabbing the blades on his ammunition pack.

“Come on, you fucking bastards!” Mark shouted, seeing the reds and blacks of his Troopers was too much. He’d get Ortiz the time he needed.

Mark jumped out of the trench, and dialed off his implant alerts as his augments went into overdrive.

He landed outside the trench among five Chosen. In seconds, he’d cut them apart. He took two steps, kicked a truck and went right back into the trenches into the middle of Chosen that were fighting the Troopers toe to toe.

Mark kicked those he landed on until their helmets were caved in and they stopped moving.

The Chosen looked at him and his blood stained armor.

“AHHHHH!” Mark charged them. They fought back with the hardened spears and daggers that could crack a Trooper’s armor. The smart ones did, the ones either too stupid or not thinking straight tried to use their rifles.

Mark’s vibra-blades cut through it all.

These Chosen had been taught disciplined fighting all their lives.

“Welcome to the Slums, you fucks!” Mark yelled through his speakers. He hadn’t been taught in a nice school hoping for war. He’d been born fighting to survive, fighting to fit into the Westerly Three Complex Crew and then fighting to be called a Trooper. He drove his foot into a Chosen’s crotch.

They howled, falling down. Mark guessed he’d just ruptured their genitals as he drove a blade through the back of their skull.

He wasn’t a clean fighter. He would use anything he had to kill Chosen.

He pushed off a wall, getting out of the way of a spear strike. He twisted and drove his sword through their neck and had pulled it back out before they had even begun to fall.

He kicked another back. The Chosen were packed like sardines as they stumbled.

Mark threw himself backwards, dropping his blade and grabbing his Repulsor hanging from his sling. He pulled the trigger, spraying the Chosen.

Bingo. A PAC’s bomb vest went up. Mark slammed into Chosen. He felt pain along his right side and something cracked near his neck.

The Chosen Mark had been fighting were dead, but the ones he’d landed on weren’t. Mark ignored his new injuries, the augments applying painkillers and adrenaline to make him forget.

He threw himself forward, earning a complaint from his broken collarbone.

“Well fuck,” Mark growled; it hurt like hell to move his right arm.

He faced his new opponents, gauging them.

A Chosen jumped for the trench, driving their knee into Mark’s right shoulder.

“You motherfucking son, of a fucking bitch,” Mark drove the blade in his left hand into the Chosen’s gut and stabbed them repeatedly “That fucking hurts! This is the second fucking shoulder I’ve had to get you useless fucking waste of oxygen.”

He looked at the Chosen, who looked like a perforated voodoo doll.

“Fuuuuuck!” Mark yelled, charging his new opponents who had moved forward and away from his frantic stabbing.

Mark heard what sounded like Combat Shuttle auto-cannons.

“More, give me more!” Mark hissed, and his implants registered the voice and pre-set commands.

Mark stopped feeling anything. Pain disappeared as he tore a spear from the Chosen trying to hit his wounded right side.

He felt the bones grating in his collar but they didn’t hurt any more. It was just an itch as he flipped the spear, cutting with his blade, driving the spear forwards, slicing stomachs and groins open.

Bloody and crying Chosen lay in Mark’s wake.

His implants beeped. Mark turned and hurled the spear with all his strength. It impaled a Chosen, driving them back in mid-air.

“Come on, I’m fucking Diablo!” Mark let himself sink into that dark well, his pain, his training. Past the morals that people placed on themselves.

Mark laughed and smiled, grinning like death itself as he drove a blade through a Chosen’s helmet, ripping their metal storm rifle from them and firing back at the Chosen at point blank range.

They died, leaving Mark without anyone to fight. He pulled up his map, and found new targets and a wounded Trooper.

He pulled the Trooper out from under Chosen carcasses, stabbing a few of them that twitched.

“Sir,” the sergeant said, looking at Mark.

“We have some Chosen to kill, sergeant, you with me?” Mark demanded.

“Till the end, sir!” the sergeant had murder in his voice.

“Very well, Hughes, let’s go hunting,” Mark said, taking off at a run. Hughes followed right behind.

Mark ripped a spear from the Chosen he’d killed. He drew it back and threw it at a Chosen running across the battlefield. Mark grabbed another from the ground, throwing it along the trench and hitting more Chosen in the back.

“Move right,” Hughes said.

Mark did so without question, and a spear went sailing past and Mark grabbed another from the ground as they ran.

He looked up to see Hughes’ target dropping to the ground.

“That’s what I’m talking about, sergeant!” Mark howled. They rounded a corner, finding Chosen filling the area, in a wild melee with Troopers.

Mark kept his spear and slammed into the Chosen’s rear.

Hughes stood beside him, making a wall as they used their vibra-blades and spears to cut down the Chosen.

The Chosen tried to turn but they were too close together with Mark and Hughes pressing hard.

“Don’t give them space, cut them down, Troopers! No mercy!” Mark barked.

“No mercy!” The Troopers who looked like they were on their last legs took the words to heart and fought with renewed and frantic energy.

Mark drove his spear through a Chosen’s lower back, driving it up into another’s back and out of their chest.

He let the spear go, the dead pinned the Chosen and pushed them forward into the Troopers to the front.

Mark cut and moved forward. He shifted sideways, opening the Chosen up. Hughes’ blade ripped through their side and back out, dropping them as Mark slashed a Chosen attacking Hughes where he’d left himself open.

Neither of them said anything as they continued on.

Mark kicked out a Chosen’s leg, punching their helmet, which he felt jar in his collarbone and fucked up shoulder.

He cut their arm off and slashed their chest.

He moved forward, ready to cut down the next Chosen, but only found himself facing one standing Trooper and another that was leaning against the wall, blood coming down their side.

“Get them sorted out,” Mark told the standing Trooper, pointing at the one with the nasty wound in their side.

“Sir,” the Trooper panted, helping the other to the ground and opening up their med kit.

“Ortiz has pushed back the Chosen. Bloodied them good, but our lines are fucked. He’s pulling us back to the second lines,” Hughes said.

Mark checked the map. The Chosen left in the trenches were too far away for Mark to get to them in time.

“Let’s give them a parting gift,” Mark said, jogging to a turret. Hughes moved to the closest one, and fired at the retreating Chosen.

Mark put his blade on the trench, clearing his throat in a growl as he drank from his water.

He found a group of Chosen running for cover and sent twin streams of death through them.

“Mark, what’re your orders?” Alexis asked, out of breath.

“Get the Troopers back up and firing; shoot the bastards in the back.”

“With fucking pleasure. I’ll pass the word. Nguyen and Yule are dead.”

“Shit,” Mark said, shooting at more Chosen.

There was nothing more to say and she closed the channel.

He moved his turret to shoot at more of the fleeing Chosen. The auto-cannon noise went off and the Chosen were turned into fine mist.

Mark traced the noise.

The plants that had been in the planters were now lying around them. Auto-cannons, turrets, and missile launchers were out and shooting at the surrounding towers.

Trucks were trying to pull back, to destroy the automated systems.

Missiles ripped through them and cannons holed their armor.

Chosen that hadn’t advanced were firing on the weapon systems even as the Troopers fired back at them from on high.

PACs, burning vehicles, casings, and weapons covered the square.

The trenches were torn up with what was left of vehicles stuck in them. Cermite had been cratered and left with black burn marks in the wake of the Chosen’s bombs.

Mark let the turret go as the Chosen hid behind their defenses and he couldn’t see anything else to kill.

“Sir, we need to get you some medical aid,” Hughes said.

“Yeah,” Mark said, drinking from his water tube again. It was like he was walking through his haze as he started to feel his injuries. He grabbed his sword, flicking it a few times to clean it.

He put it away as Hughes helped guide him backwards.

“Do you need aid, sir?” a medic asked as they came up from the second line.

“There are people worse than me. I can get myself to medical,” Mark said, feeling like he hadn’t slept in a month.

“Let me have a...” another medic started.

“Piss off, there’s others that need your help more,” Mark said, walking on with Hughes guiding him by the shoulder.

“Don’t like medics much?” Hughes asked.

“Fuckers always put a bazillion fucking needles in me,” Mark said, stumbling. Hughes caught him and kept him moving.

“Thanks,” Mark said, letting Hughes guide him out of the trenches and to the medical bay.

Mark didn’t really feel anything but pain.

Someone was making a lot of noise though.

“Will you please shut the fuck up?! Feels like I went on leave and Tyler got tequila shots,” Mark rambled. The words brought back memories he didn’t want to deal with.

The noise continued.

He was about to hit them when a hand held him down.

“Your armor is locked up, they have to cut you out, shouldn’t take long,” Hughes said.

“Fine,” Mark sighed, relaxing. He might have fought with Hughes only once, but he seemed like the competent sort. Not many made it past master corporal if they were an idiot.

Plus, they had fought together and saved one another’s lives.

That counts for something.

“Shit,” someone said as the helmet came off and the rest of the armor opened up.

“You mind, I’m trying to sleep here,” Mark complained. He didn’t get what the big idea was.

“How much of your combat aide did you use?”

Mark opened his eyes, finding a medic over him. She didn’t look happy. “All of it,” Mark grinned, and his face hurt.

When did I hurt my face?

“Well it explains how he’s conscious,” another medic, a guy said, shaking his head.

“We’re going to give you something so that we can get to work,” the woman medic said.

“My Troopers need me,” Mark turned serious, and started to rise.

“We’ll have you up and functional as soon as possible,” she said, holding her hand above his chest but not pressing. She made a face that made Mark think she didn’t want to press.

Ribs hurt, side hurts, shoulder fucked, hip wonky, knee, that’s weird. Mark frowned as he went through his injuries.

“Get me fixed as soon as possible,” Mark said, lying back down into his armor.

One of them came around with a shunt.

Mark caught Hughes’ eye.

“See what I told you, fucking needles,” Mark sighed. The medic was good, they got the vein in one try, then decided to put another into his ventricle.

I wonder if I bit her hand if she’d fuck off with that fucking bastard of a needle?

He thought about it but he felt something cold go into his arm. It warmed up and spread through his body.

“Fucking drugs,” Mark said.

Chapter 77

Freighter 12EF9X4

Earth, Sol System

8/3349

Legionary Asaul was reminded of a much younger man as he watched Mark Victor fight through the Chosen like a man possessed. It had been a lifetime since he had last seen the man.

Mark Victor didn’t look a day older, though he looked like he was finally stepping past the bounds that Asaul had seen in Legion veterans.

A thought made his NIAI show him Mark’s vitals, directly linked from the medical instruments.

The man was a mess. His body was broken and busted, though he would survive and once again be back out on the battlefield.

His latest exploits were already the talk of the rich and anyone else who had screens to watch the fighting happening on Earth.

His division had been cut down but they had held out long enough to draw the Chosen into a forward charge. Ortiz suckered them all in and turned on the citadel’s hidden defenses.

The weapon systems hiding underneath the planters had cut down or blown up anything Chosen.

Killing even five Chosen was an almost impossible feat in close combat. Mark had killed thirty with his actions, possibly more.

Asaul looked at the citadel’s cameras, showing Mark’s newly attached limbs and the various needles pumping his body full of things to heal him.

Asaul sighed and walked through the room that he was in. On the outside it looked like it was a freighter. Inside it was stuffed full of Troopers in trucks and Stealth Shuttles.

Troopers had been collected from all over Earth. They lay in healing trucks or were stored in cryo-pods. Once they were filled, then the freighter would move out of the system and disappear, they’d engage their jump drive, moving to the nearest Legionary station to offer the Troopers a new life in the Legions.

Nearly every Trooper that was on Earth had been selected for recruitment. As Asaul’s freighter departed, another would take its place and registration. When the Legion could hack through Earth’s security and firewalls with a thought, they could easily change records and tell sensors that they hadn’t moved.

Asaul wanted to see the end of the battle. The end of Earth and Her Colonies’ little war. Here it would be decided if the Chosen would rule, or if things would continue in their old ways.

Asaul turned on music with a thought, trying to take his old mind off it.

Chapter 78

Citadel

Earth, Sol System

8/3349

Dominguez tried out her new arm. She had scars down her side from a Chosen blowing themselves up; she’d been knocked out and her arm had gone missing.

Five days later and she was a whole woman again, with new scars from her head down to her hip on the left side.

“Alright, it looks like you have full mobility. I’m clearing you for service,” Medic Durand said.

“How’s Mark?” Dominguez asked, knowing that Durand was working on him as well.

“We replaced his legs and arms. The bones were broken and screwed up. Faster to print them than let them heal naturally. His other breaks were glued and screwed together. We’ve refilled his augments, so he can keep repairing himself. We should be waking him up in a day. Ortiz has been telling us how much he needs him back on the lines.” Durand didn’t look too pleased.

“We lost the trenches and now they’re knocking on the front door. Mark might be a big meat-head but when he puts his mind to it he can really fuck someone’s day up. The Troopers saw the videos, they know what he did and, from what Hughes said, the man’s not done cutting Chosen up,” Dominguez said, her eyes unfocusing as her new hand curled into a fist.

“Make sure that you look after that arm and try to see that Mark doesn’t mess himself up too much more,” Durand said.

“I’ll put in a good word when we’re done,” Dominguez smiled, tapping Durand’s shoulder.

“Huh, what?” Durand asked, confused.

“Well you like him, right? He might charge in in fights, but he’s a complete idiot when it comes to women,” Dominguez said.

“Oh, uh, well,” Durand blushed.

“Don’t worry ‘bout it, we’ve still got a war to survive,” Dominguez said, waving at the citadel’s windows, encompassing the Chosen.

“You are a ray of optimism.”

“I’m a realist, it’s in the sergeant major handbook.” Dominguez grinned, heading out of the medical area, which was really a cafeteria with medical computers and carts everywhere and Troopers laid up on tables recovering or being worked on.

“Move!” someone yelled.

Dominguez, even being a division sergeant major, flattened herself as medics rushed in hauling wounded and dropping them on tables, hauling them out of their armor as medics in just their basic armor talked and worked on the new patient.

“Fucking bloodbath,” Dominguez shook her head.

***

“You’re still too good looking, must still be alive,” Mark said, through half-closed eyes.

“You’re even uglier. I made sure that they kept the scars,” Tyler said.

“Thanks,” Mark said, lying there for a few more minutes. “Well, that’s enough sleeping; how long’ve I been out and what the fuck happened?”

There was the rumbling of artillery fire, and Mark cocked his head.

“Chosen destroyed the automated defenses, paid for it though. They overran the first and second line of trenches. We don’t have the Troopers to hold them any more. We blew the tunnels, guns, ammo, everything outside of the citadel. Artillery is hammering Chosen, though the little bastards are inventive and they found some Screamers. Been hitting us right in the barricades,” Tyler explained.

“Sounds like a shitty pun,” Mark said, looking at all the machines he was hooked up to.

“And you look like a fucking pincushion,” Tyler managed a weak smile.

Mark gave him a dirty look and rubbed his arms.

“Good to see that you’re awake!” Medic Durand smiled.

“Am I free to go?” Mark asked.

“Yeah, we want to do some check-ups later, but it can wait.”

“Sweet.” Mark started pulling out needles, and Tyler helped him.

“You might want to put some clothes on,” Tyler said.

“Who’s the older brother here?” Mark asked.

“Who’s the pincushion?”

“Get my pants.”

Tyler laughed.

“Make sure that he doesn’t move his upper body too much, he’s got a lot of broken ribs and his collarbone is a mess. We sealed it back together but…” Durand shrugged.

“I am right here,” Mark complained.

“Which is why she’s telling me instead of you,” Tyler said, grabbing pants and throwing them at Mark.

He got up, pushing himself off the sheet. Durand found something else to be interested in, her cheeks coloring.

Tyler watched in interest as Mark took his pants and got his legs into them.

“Gonna have to work these noodles up again,” Mark sighed, looking at his much thinner arms and legs. He looked like he had trained only his back and chest, without working out any other part of his body, for his entire life.

“Yeah, you look unsymmetrical as shit,” Tyler agreed.

“Thanks, dick,” Mark said, pulling on a shirt and his boots.

“Look after yourself, I don’t want to see you in here again,” Durand said.

“Thanks,” Mark said, giving her a smile.

“I think she likes you,” Tyler teased as they walked out.

“So?” Mark asked, walking awkwardly and moving his hands and fingers.

“So, it’s possibly the end of the world, might want to go talk to her sooner rather than later,” Tyler suggested.

“We have Troopers to lead and battles to fight; I don’t have time to go mess around.”

“Look, you could’ve easily died out there. So, what if you live a little before you die?” Tyler asked, anger working its way into his voice.

“We all go out at some time,” Mark shrugged.

“Look, you almost died being a fucking idiot, I can’t handle that shit, man. I can’t handle you dying. Fuck I thought I lost you and Alexis,” Tyler said, stopping.

Mark stopped as well. “Alexis...?”

“She’s fine, back on the line, still.”

Mark rested his hand on Tyler’s shoulder.

“I made a promise to Caroline, to Ko, to Yule, Nguyen, Haas, Wen, Dooks, everyone that died because of these Harmony bastards. I’m going to end them no matter what. I will make sure that their sacrifice wasn’t in vain. We’re going to defeat these fuckers. Maybe, when this is all over, I’ll look at getting a girl. Till then,” Mark raised his hand. “I’m going to do everything I can to kill just one more of these Harmony fucks.”

They stood there for a while. Tyler knew the pain that Mark had been through, that he tried to hide in front of everyone else, to appear like the perfect Trooper. He didn’t even know that he was doing it. After Caroline, he didn’t share his feelings.

“Hey, boss, looks like you finally got the set,” Dominguez said, looking Mark over.

“Ha ha, yeah, all of the limbs. Feel like a fucking stick figure,” Mark growled.

“Ah, it’s all part of the fun. Gave me a new hand, swear they grew it from one of the generals, it’s ‘bout as useless as shit,” Dominguez said opening and closing her left hand.

“I swear that they could make a whole ‘nother person out of what you two have lost,” Tyler said.

“Probably, and it would have more brain cells,” Ortiz said.

“What is this? Ambush the man trying to leave the medical ward?” Mark asked.

“Just coming and checking up on you – was told that you were getting out today,” Ortiz said.

“Same, and I knew that you’d want to be up to date,” Dominguez said.

“Okay, well I need a shower, to get back up to speed, and food. Cafeteria in thirty?” Mark asked.

“Good with me,” Tyler said.

Ortiz and Dominguez nodded.

“Dominguez, I need to know how we’re looking, you’re with me,” Mark said.

“Urgh, briefing in a shower?” Dominguez protested.

“It’s not anything you haven’t seen before,” Mark sighed.

“Yeah, plus those chicken legs must be fucking hilarious!” she agreed.

Mark held his face, shaking his head.

“See you in thirty,” Tyler said.

Mark turned and started to walk away, and Dominguez followed him. By her tone and the way they walked, she was already back into division sergeant major mode, giving him the most relevant information.

“Those two?” Ortiz asked.

“No, she’s as close as a sister, and Dashtund and her were closer than most thought. Would probably have married if they weren’t in the Troopers,” Tyler explained.

Ortiz clapped him on the shoulder. “We’ve lost too many good people, and we’re going to lose more. Seems that the Chosen are content with wearing down our defences and testing us, so let’s get some food.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Tyler said.

Ortiz’s eyes went unfocused as he read something. “Hall, you beautiful bastard.” A smile spread across his face, and he looked back at Tyler.

Chapter 79

EMFC Fearless

Moving from Mars to Earth, Sol System

8/3349

Being given Nivad Selvra’s ear meant that Admiral Hall’s orders worked on everyone. Meaning that instead of weaving through traffic, he could tell it to get the hell out of his way.

He could also demand their sensor data so he knew exactly what was in his way. That kind of thing was important when one unfurled their solar sails to accelerate at speeds that were not meant to be used inside of a solar system.

Hall was looking at reaching Earth in just eleven days.

The security contractors thought that they were insane. Hall could see it on their faces. He didn’t care, his people needed him and by damn he was going to do everything in his power to make sure that he was there for them.

They might be scared of us, but they also respect us for that.

In the beginning, the security contractors had tried to show off how tough they were. When they got put down by engineers that focused on weapon systems, they started realizing that Troopers weren’t the only ones trained to fight.

After Masoul, Hall and Conti had got the Troopers to train their people up so they weren’t completely defenseless if they were attacked when the Troopers were in cryo.

“We’ve been able to shave off a few hours with flight control, be a bit riskier but everyone agrees it’s the best plan,” Yeltsin said.

Hall looked the plan over. “Unconventional, crazy, and downright dangerous.” He flipped through a few more pages. “Approved.”

“Thank you, sir,” Yeltsin smiled.

We’re coming, just hold out for a bit longer, Troopers. Hall gripped his armrests as if he could will the carriers on faster.

Chapter 80

Mega City

Earth, Sol System

8/3349

The sight in front of Fusaro was barely recognizable from what he had seen just weeks ago.

The cermite was pitted and cratered and Chosen lay all over the ground. You could walk from the towers the Chosen had held to the front of the citadel without touching the Earth’s surface.

On one of the other sides, a Repulsor fired like a buzz saw.

Fusaro nearly jumped backwards but kept his composure, studying the vehicles that lay across the square, and the mangled weapons in the planters.

The trenches were rubble filled divots, covered in bodies from both sides.

A Screamer ripped out of the Chosen towers to strike the barricades in the citadel’s lobby. Repulsor fire was already hitting the source of the missile before it impacted.

The barricades were cratered and badly damaged, with spray-ite showing through here and there where repairs had been made. Slits showed Repulsor turrets searching for targets.

“We have no more trucks or vehicles nearby. The snipers and gunners on the upper floors of the citadel are still contested. We’ve driven them from their trenches, but they still have their barricades. How much can our Heavies depress?” Fusaro asked.

“Depress?” one of the aides asked, confused.

“Point down,” Fusaro amended.

“About ten degrees.”

“Find out angles. Get Heavies on the upper floors, have them aimed at the three floors of the citadel. Don’t have them at the edge, but ready on movable surfaces. When I give the say so, I want them in position and firing down on the Troopers,” Fusaro said, looking at the PAC leader.

“Yes, sir.”

“Good, go,” Fusaro urged, dismissing the woman.

“Those lines that the Troopers used to get from one position to another; get me those cords and get me someone good with engineering. Go search the buildings and find me an air-car or vehicles. I need twenty or so. Slow down firing of Screamers on the Troopers. I want people sent out to Combat Shuttle crash sites. Bring me their countermeasure pods, the flares. Have our people fed, get them out of their armor and relaxed. We’ll move in four days.” Fusaro looked from the building to his people.

“I am sorry that I have failed, general,” Baashir said.

“You got further than I ever hoped. I am impressed. When we get into the citadel, I will allow you to lead the charge.”

“Yes, sir. I am not worthy, but I will not deny the great honor,” Baashir said, lowering his head. “For the sake of Harmony.”

“For the sake of Harmony,” Fusaro and the others repeated.

“Now, let’s end this war,” Fusaro said, staying low as he moved away from the citadel and through the broken and burned tower.

Chapter 81

Citadel

Earth, Sol System

8/3349

“I don’t like it,” Jerome said as he and Alexis looked out over the battlefield that had been citadel’s square.

“The Chosen are off cooking up a plan to try and destroy us. What’s not to like?” Alexis said.

“Real optimist aren’t you?” Jerome looked at her.

“I get it from my fellow Victors,” she smiled, punching his shoulder.

Jerome shook his head side to side before nodding. “You may have a point.”

“So, what the fuck are they up to?” Dominguez asked, walking over.

“Hello, sunshine,” Jerome greeted her.

“Sit on it,” Dominguez said, flipping him the bird.

Jerome laughed.

If you can’t laugh, then you cry.

They tapped arms in greeting.

“No idea, but Moretti seems to have more information than us, we’ve got that briefing in a few hours,” Alexis said.

“What else is new?” Dominguez drawled.

“I’m out of chew and Mark swears he doesn’t have any,” Jerome said.

“Oh, that’s a lie and we all know it. Hell, I can’t think of you without dip. How the shit you screw that one up?” Dominguez said.

“I like the tabacca,” Jerome said, affecting an accent that was as terrible as it wasn’t southern.

“Holy shit, I think I just lost brain cells,” Alexis cringed.

“Fuck, it’s that Victor influence,” Dominguez shook her head sadly.

“Hey!” Alexis said, pushing Dominguez who broke into a grin.

“Well, at least Mark lost half of his armor. You didn’t lose an inch and you’re all out,” Dominguez said.

“Oh, he probably left a tin in his armor. Good deductive skills there, Dominguez,” Jerome said, narrowing his eyes in thought.

“You take my chew and I’ll put my boot in your ass,” Mark growled as he walked down the line.

Jerome saw more than one Trooper laugh or shake their head.

“So you do have chew,” Jerome said, a big grin on his face.

“No,” Mark said, stopping walking as if he wasn’t sure if he was about to walk into something unexpected.

“Come on, just one tin,” Jerome begged.

“You go through a tin in an hour,” Mark said.

“So? You and Ortiz do as well.”

“So go bug Ortiz.”

“Urgh, come on, he’s all like generally and stuff,” Jerome complained, living it up as the Troopers listened in.

Mark sighed and pulled out a tin, opened it and put in a chew. He closed it and tossed it to Jerome.

“Don’t say I don’t give you nothing,” Mark spat on the ground.

“With those new limbs you’ll get one hell of a head buzz,” Jerome said.

“Screw you, bro, screw you,” Mark replied, flipping the bird and continuing on his inspection of the barricade.

“You wish,” Jerome said to his back.

“You are terrible,” Alexis sighed.

Jerome winked, opening his armor so he could pack a chew.

“Little bit of a laugh will settle even the most nervous Trooper,” Dominguez said, looking around.

Sure enough, the Troopers were talking and relaxing. They were alert, but not to the point where it took all of their attention. If they were needed, they could react. Being tense all the time would only tire them out for when they were needed.

Whatever the hell they’re going to be needed for.

Jerome didn’t admit it, but it seemed that whoever had been commanding the Troopers’ advance had taken over once again. The replacement commander had pushed the Troopers back, though Jerome didn’t know if it would be enough to stop their real commander.

He spat on the floor. “Let’s get to that briefing. I for one want to know what the hell the Chosen are up to.”

Chapter 82

Freighter 37EF8X45

Earth, Sol System

8/3349

Jump space faded away as Nerva stood in the command center of the disguised ship. To scanners and the eyes, it would look like a freighter.

Only when one went inside would they see that things were not how they appeared. The Legions and Roma made sure that they were never inspected and their scans only showed a freighter filled with goods.

People hurried to do their jobs, and none of them knew what Legate Nerva himself was in the command center for. Hell, none of them knew why the hell he wanted to go to Earth.

“You’re making them nervous,” NIDenise said.

“If it makes us move faster, I’ll get out and damn well push,” Nerva spat back. His people were down there, the closest thing he had to family. They might survive the Chosen and Harmony, but the hit by General Jones was active and the assassins were lurking around to make sure that the Victors died on Earth.

Nerva wouldn’t wade into the war, but he would sure as hell wade in to warn them about a threat they didn’t know about.

“We’re two months from reaching Earth at our best speed,” the centurion of the ship said.

“Good, I hope that it is smooth sailing. I have reports to see to,” Nerva said. He might yell at his NIAI, but he didn’t want to step on toes. If the centurion of the ship hinted that it might be a better idea to be somewhere else, Nerva would listen to the advice.

Even if I want to set up a cot and watch the main screen as Earth gets bigger on the view-screen.

Chapter 83

Citadel

Earth, Sol System

8/3349

“Alright, let’s get into it,” Moretti said, rubbing his face. He’d been sleeping only when he was so tired that he couldn’t sit without passing out.

He felt wrinkles he swore hadn’t been there just a week ago. A command to his implants showed an image behind him as he looked at the weary but alert officers that were crowded into the conference room.

“Seems that the old commander has taken back over from the more bomb-centric leader. Hopefully this means less bombs in our future. Though it also looks like things are going to get more difficult. They’ve been scavenging a lot,” Moretti sent a new command and the screen showed Chosen over a Combat Shuttle, and gathering zip-line cable.

“They are collecting anything they can use: vehicles, air-cars, high tensile strength wire, plasma cutters, and pulling Combat Shuttles apart. Lieutenant Yu, if you’d tell them about the Combat Shuttles,” Moretti said, waving to the lieutenant wearing Trooper armor.

“It looks like they’re pulling the countermeasure modules, the flares that screw weapons targeting. If they can get them working, then they’ll have an effective moving flash bang, that’ll screw up most targeting systems. Each pod lasts for forty seconds, but they have twenty charges in them. I don’t know how many Combat Shuttles went down or how many pods survived, though it looks like the Chosen have enough pods to blind us for a few minutes,” Yu said.

“What will it do to our Powered Armor’s imaging?” Ortiz asked.

“Fuck it royally. It’s meant to screw with electronics. The helmets have so many sensors that it would be best to just turn them the hell off and use your eyes to watch what’s going on. Even that’s going to be a bitch, because it shoots off actual flares, which are bright as shit. While we’re being blinded, if the Chosen are behind them, they’ll be fine. They’re directional, so being in front of them will fuck you, and any sensors, up. If you’re close enough.”

“So they’ve got an effective smoke screen; what about the air-cars, what are they going to do, put PACs into the upper levels?” Tyler asked.

“I thought that first of all, but there aren’t enough and they’re so damned thin they might as well be paper,” Moretti said.

“So what, they going to mount the flares to the air-cars?” Jerome asked, looking around.

Moretti and Yu looked at one another.

“That’s what we think,” Yu shrugged.

“What about these cars, they filling them with bombs?” Ortiz asked.

“We don’t know; we think that some of them are. We can deal with that. What I’m more interested in is the hulks and broken vehicles that they’re hauling up and into the towers,” Moretti said.

“What?” Mark looked confused.

“I have no idea what in the fuck they’re doing, but they’re making collections of heavy stuff on the second or third floors, welding it together and leaving it there,” Moretti shrugged.

“Well it ain’t good, can tell you that for free,” Shultz sighed. The officers nodded and agreed.

“They setting up the zip lines to get across the square?” Tyler asked.

“That’s what we think, be fast, deploy their forces quick,” Moretti said.

“With the flares they’ll be hard to see,” Yu added.

“So be prepared for them to be right on our barricades without so much as a by-your-leave,” Ortiz said.

“If that’s the case then we have to be ready to pull back from the first barricades at a moment’s notice,” Mark said, his eyes hard as he held his chin with his left hand.

“Even if they get to the barricades, there’s no certainty they’ll take them,” Major Uleyov said.

“These fuckers are good with explosives and they have grenades. If I was them, I’d get to the barricades and start tossing grenades like they’re candy,” Mark said, looking at the other major.

“Fuck,” Uleyov sighed, nodding in agreement.

“Well, if they get to our barricades, then we should make it a point to say, hello,” Ortiz said, looking pleased with himself. “We’ll stab them through the barricades with the vibra-blades.”

Moretti saw a few people wince at the terrible pun.

“Sir, please, never ever try to make another joke,” Moretti implored.

“Bunch of critics,” Ortiz said gruffly, sitting back in his seat.

Moretti grinned at the general’s antics, and other officers were hiding their amusement behind their hands and coughing.

“What about those launchers?” Jerome asked.

“The missile pod launchers?”

“Yeah, have we tried reloading them?” Jerome said, the whole room focusing.

“Don’t think so, they got pretty screwed up,” Yu said.

“We got any in good condition? If the Chosen are fixing up for a good fight, then they might not be paying attention. If those countermeasures are close enough to us, maybe they won’t screw up targeting if we landed a few missiles behind them. We’re also going to need all the artillery we have to fuck the Chosen up as they make their play,” Jerome said.

“I want everyone to work in their Forces. Figure out what you would do with the resources that the Chosen have, and game it out how we can defend against them. We don’t have long, but let’s see that we’re as prepared as can be,” Ortiz said.

Moretti didn’t think that he’d be making up any of the sleep he’d been missing for the last few months.

Chapter 84

Mega City

Earth, Sol System

8/3349

Fusaro looked over the preparations, the guns were in place.

The Chosen’s defeated looks were gone, they were fed, rested, and ready. Fusaro made a point of having himself and Baashir tour around the Chosen, raise their spirits, and point out something to show that they knew what they were doing and reassure the Chosen.

They might be people with a cause, but they were still human. They had lost so many people. Only their cause and knowing that there was nowhere to run to kept them together. And, with Fusaro and Baashir walking around working with them, it tied them to the cause more firmly than before.

“Okay, I think it’s time that we started,” Fusaro said, as the sun climbed on the ninth day since they’d started working. It had taken longer than Fusaro expected, but he was in no rush. The better his people were prepared, the higher the chance of getting into the citadel.

“Baashir, give the order to begin the operation.” Fusaro stood in his Powered Armor in the staging area where Chosen were waiting with the tools and weapons they would need shortly.

Vehicles started moving forward, building up speed. Moments later, the Heavy machine guns that had been trained on the Troopers’ first three floors opened fire. Trooper Repulsors fired back as the vehicles crossed into the square. The countermeasures went off. A few Screamers hit them as the Heavies kept the Troopers’ heads down.

“Go, go, go!” Fusaro yelled. PACs took off at a run.

They hesitated, ready to jump into cover as the Troopers fired from their barricades. It was clear that they couldn’t see past the vehicles that were around the citadel, blasting the entire building with flares and electronic countermeasures.

PACs were cut down here and there as a lucky Trooper caught them with Repulsors. Fusaro glanced at the citadel; hundreds of Repulsors were firing, combing the area with thousands of rounds.

A mass of black armored PACs crawled forward inch by inch, doing anything to advance.

Fusaro was pulled back as Repulsor rounds pinged on the wall that he had been beside.

There was a familiar whoosh and Fusaro’s eyes went wide, looking at Baashir who had pulled him back.

“When the fuck did they get those things back online?” Fusaro demanded as the first Combat Shuttle missile struck the square.

Fusaro looked, seeing that a countermeasure had failed. The Troopers’ fire quickly cut down any Chosen that were standing and working on the ones in cover.

“Alexandria, get some Heavies on those fucking missile pods!” Fusaro shouted.

“Sir!” Alexandria, the leader that he had put in charge of the Heavies, had her gunners firing on the missile pods in seconds.

The missile pods seemed to sense that they were about to be destroyed, and fired everything they had. More impacts shook the towers as the missiles tried to get behind the vehicles and screw the countermeasures up.

Here and there, the cover was broken. The Chosen got behind cover or nearby countermeasures, and moved forward. The unlucky ones were cut down by Repulsors.

The first Chosen reached the Trooper lines and Fusaro almost jumped in joy.

Grenades started going off as the PACs tossed in their charges. Others pulled the zip lines that they had carried and bolted them to the barricade.

As soon as they were secured, PACs jumped on the lines and rushed towards the barricades.

One or two failed, dropping some PACs, but only one unlucky bastard died by landing on their armored helmet.

The line was re-bolted and the next people went down at a slower pace.

More grenades were going off behind the barricades, killing the Chosen stacked behind them.

The fuck? Fusaro thought, looking at it as PACs cried out in pain and dropped to the ground screaming.

He watched the walls, and saw a flash of silver.

They’re using vibra-blades, sticking them through the barricade and hitting the PACs!

“Where we’ve got grenades in, get the plasma torches set up. The Troopers are stabbing through the barricades. We need to get inside. Have the Chosen ready to fight in close combat,” Fusaro ordered.

“Sir,” Baashir passed his instructions on as Fusaro watched.

There was little else he could do. They would lose Chosen, but they’d get inside.

Chosen were welding massive bands of metal to the zip lines that were attached to the barricades, securing them completely.

Fusaro looked at his reports. Half of his forces were shooting at the Troopers or deployed against the barricade.

Seven minutes. Fusaro shook himself, trying to relieve some of the adrenaline rushing through his body to focus his thoughts.

Here and there, PACs were opening up the barricades, or cutting them open.

Counter measures started failing and vehicles were raked with Repulsor fire. Anything that was standing and not against the barricades was cut down.

“Hold the reinforcements! Pull the walls down!” Fusaro ordered.

He heard the vehicle some two stories above him rev its engine and strain against something.

Seconds later there was a groan, and the sound of something falling. Things on the second floor broke and what sounded like the universe’s largest guitar string twanged. The dumpster full of metal held there for a few moments before slowly dropping. The armored barricade that it was attached to, couldn’t take it as the dumpster crashed into the ground. Fusaro jumped sideways as the attached armored barricade came free of the citadel’s defenses and crashed into the tower.

The vehicle was straining against another welded mass. Fusaro went back to the larger hole that looked out over the battlefield.

Chosen were flooding into the citadel. The barricades looked like someone who’d had their teeth ripped out. The memory sent a shiver down Fusaro’s back. Repulsor fire across the barricades slackened, and the Heavies started shooting deeper into the citadel, trying to not shoot their own while keeping the Troopers’ heads down.

“Move it! Get in there, kill the Troopers!” Baashir yelled into his headset.

Fusaro watched as all the remaining Chosen charged forward. Fusaro wanted to tear the man a new one, but that dangerous glint was in his eyes as he looked at the citadel.

Fusaro was not about to get in Baashir’s way.

“Baashir, lead the charge,” Fusaro said.

“For the sake of Harmony!” Baashir charged off, with the other Chosen repeating his war cry.

Fusaro quickly found himself the only person behind the towers, so he took a deep breath and started running after them.

It was a terrifying experience. The Heavies’ shifted fire meant that the Troopers on the upper floors weren’t being pinned down as effectively.

A Chosen was blown up with a direct hit from a Screamer. Another was torn apart by Repulsor fire. Fusaro could see the tracers in their armor as he sprinted as quickly as possible.

An unlucky Chosen was torn in two by a mine that no one before them had found. Then Fusaro was at the barricade, and he’d never felt so alive, so scared, and so exhilarated all at the same time.

Though he wasn’t about to charge the Troopers inside the citadel; he might be a general but he wasn’t really a fighter.

Chapter 85

EMFC Fearless

8/3349

“Chosen have breached the citadel’s barricades. The Troopers are holding at their secondary line,” Rasalov reported.

“Ortiz thinks that they’ll overcome his defenses and they’ll be fighting hand to hand shortly. He can delay for maybe a day,” Guy said.

“Yeltsin, get us moving faster!” Hall demanded.

“Sir, with all of our plans, we’re going to take another two days…” Yeltsin’s voice was pained. He wanted to go faster.

“We use the atmosphere,” Hall said.

Yeltsin’s eyes went wide.

No one would have even thought of that in the old EMF. The cost for repairs would be astronomical. It would make Nivad’s bean counters come down on you like an orbital strike.

I don’t think that they’ll be caring about the cost too much, as long as they’re alive.

“If we use the Moon’s small atmosphere and gravity, then Earth’s atmosphere, we can shave off, maybe six hours,” Yeltsin said, shaking his hand as he looked at his console, inputting numbers.

“What if we had our sails deployed?” Hall asked.

“I do not want to be the person paying for that,” Yeltsin objected.

“Celik, Guy, get talking to engineering, how much mass can we eject? Have Big Bertha or Indomitable grab it,” Hall said. “Anything we think that can save us minutes, we do it.”

There was a chorus of ‘Yes, sirs’ while Yeltsin bent his head over his console. Celik and Guy started talking to their people, and Rasalov kept updating the forward screen with the feed coming direct from the citadel.

“Yeltsin, how much damage are we looking at?” Hall asked.

“It might be an idea to lose some of our mass through the escape pods,” Yeltsin didn’t sound like he was joking.

“Guy, Rasalov, schedule a drill on escape pods,” Hall said. Everyone else was stuck too deep in their work.

“Yes, sir.”

SNAFU.

Chapter 86

Citadel

Earth, Sol System

8/3349

“Will. You. Fuck. Off?!” Tyler said, his AMR firing with every word.

He didn’t even need to try to control his breathing.

It’s like shooting fish in a barrel. If the fish were trying to kill you with guns, and had armor and explosive fucking vests.

He was lying on an open stairwell that looked over the lobby, to make it look like the EMF was always moving and important to the new recruits who used to walk through its doors.

Four Troopers surrounded Tyler, all of them firing or reloading. It was barely making a dent in the Chosen. Not even taking out the leaders eased the Chosen’s forward push.

The first barricades were down. There were Troopers fighting in pockets. The Repulsors in the second barricade wall, where the lobby’s tables had been, were firing point-blank into the Chosen. It hadn’t taken the Chosen long to advance.

Some crafty son of a bitch had given the forward Chosen the rest of the flares. They tossed them in, fucking up the Troopers’ helmets, and rushed in.

They’d been fighting for hours. Troopers on the upper floors were just keeping watch. The majority were moving down to support their brothers and sisters on the first floor.

The Chosen were shooting, hitting, cutting, and tossing grenades around the barricades.

It was a bloody to and fro. Troopers were shooting and throwing grenades back, and the losses on both sides were terrible.

The first barricades had been torn apart or cut apart with plasma torches.

Chosen and Troopers lay from the first barricade to the second. Tracers fired through any open hole in the second barricades, back and forth. Both sides were fighting with everything they had.

More PACs were pushing into the citadel, like a black armored wave.

Tyler kept shooting, barely needing to aim. Every time a PAC went down, another replaced them.

Troopers held the line as their reinforcements and the EMF personnel-turned-Troopers built up the third line, passing supplies forward and carrying wounded backwards.

Medics were working right behind the third line, the number of dead mounting. If something got into your Powered Armor, you usually didn’t get back up.

It looked like an old rice paddy, with the first barricades lower than the second, which were lower than the third. It was fucking hell.

A Trooper grunted next to Tyler, and he could tell the man had taken a round.

Tyler fired at where the round sounded like it had come from. Another Trooper, higher, fired a Screamer into the Chosen mass. It left a hole for about a second before more PACs moved in and started firing back.

Someone had got a Repulsor turret from upstairs online, and they fired back down.

“Let’s move ladies and gents, let the Repulsors fight it out,” Tyler said, grabbing his ammo box and running for the offices that looked over the lobby.

Being in the middle of a firefight wasn’t the role of a sniper.

The other AMR gunners followed him as Repulsor turrets from the upper floors were slapped down in their positions, firing at the PACs.

Tyler cleared off a table, pushing it against the office windows. Troopers followed his example as a tech ran by, threw ammunition boxes into the room and rushed off.

Tyler got on the desk and fired at the Chosen. Then he saw it.

Enough time fighting battles and leading Troopers had allowed him to learn a ‘shit factor sense’. While it was currently off of the scale, something made him look at an area of the barricade where a plasma torch had just stopped.

“Ortiz, they’re coming through in less than five seconds,” Tyler said, firing on the group behind the barricade. He couldn’t kill them fast enough.

Officers and leadership corralled their Troopers back, throwing their last grenades and running for the third line.

The PACs broke through the second barrier, running after the Troopers that were back at the third barricades. The Repulsors opened up. Troopers turned, protecting their brothers’ rears.

Even through all of the firing and the explosions, Tyler heard a voice.

“Let’s show these Chosen fucks what Troopers are made of! You with me, Troopers?” An officer yelled, pulling her vibra-blade, and making a play to buy the other Troopers time to get through the small openings in the barricades.

The Troopers with the officer yelled their war cries, advancing and shooting their Repulsors. As the Chosen got within ten feet, their vibra-blades came out.

They held their ground, but there were too few of them and too many of the PACs. The Troopers cut down dozens of the PACs, but they were overrun. The last of the Troopers they’d been protecting made it through the barricades which were pushed back into place and sealed.

The officer was hit with spears, her arms and leg useless.

The Chosen grabbed her, pulling her armor off.

“Kill me!” she yelled. No, pleaded.

Tyler’s face hardened as he let out a breath, and his mind went to Ko and the other Troopers the Chosen had tortured. His augments ramped up as he opened his trigger hand and wrapped it back around the grip, taking in a deep breath.

The world seemed to slow as he let out his breath through his nose. He fired, hitting the Trooper. His aim shifted.

Head, shoulder, neck, torso, head, armpit. Reload. Tyler worked like a machine, identifying the best shot and taking it in almost the same thought.

He didn’t take his eyes off the Trooper officer and the dead PACs around her. The bolt slammed home and he continued firing. Any PACs surrounding the fallen Troopers were cut down.

All of the AMR gunners seemed to have the same idea, as the PACs were slain with brutal efficiency.

Repulsors were firing into their midst.

They fell back to the second barricades. Tyler kept firing and following them. He knew that if he didn’t kill them here, then they would just be one more PAC trying to kill his people. They’d attack the third barricade soon enough.

Chapter 87

Mega City

Earth, Sol System

8/3349

The Chosen and Troopers were still fighting. Artillery was raining down, but barricades and trucks had been stacked together to give overhead cover.

The trenches had been dug out.

Food and supplies were being funneled from the towers to the citadel.

Chosen were eating and resting. Fusaro didn’t want them tiring out as they fired on the Troopers.

It seemed like the Troopers didn’t need sleep. Fusaro was going to have to make a push with everything he had against the Troopers.

Alexandria was dismantling her Heavies. The air-cars they’d used to lift the vehicles up to push the weights off the towers were lowering the rigs to the ground.

Vibra-blades had been pulled from the Troopers’ dead, and used to arm the best units.

Preparing for the last battle.

Fusaro knew, that one way or another, they would either overtake the Troopers, fighting them to the death, or they would die trying. It might take hours or days, but one Force wasn’t making it out of this battle alive.

Chapter 88

Citadel

Earth, Sol System

8/3349

“This is it,” Jerome said.

“Yeah,” Hughes agreed. Mark had introduced the man, and he’d quickly become friends with Tyler and Mark’s leadership. His section and platoon was gone. Distinctions between units was minimal now. They were all just Troopers, fighting to stay alive.

Jerome looked at Mark, Dominguez, and Alexis. All of them were doing what they could to stretch or ready themselves for what was about to come. Tyler was still in his perch with a dozen other Troopers, trying to weed out the leadership.

Mark twirled his two blades.

Alexis checked her pistols and Dominguez rolled her shoulders.

“Well, once more right into the fight,” Ortiz said, his security detail moving out of his way.

“Good to see you,” Mark said, tapping Ortiz’s arm.

“Lead from the front, not from a Carrier. That Nerva was full of lessons,” Ortiz laughed.

Jerome smiled. They might be at death’s door, and his nerves were tearing his insides apart with anxious acid. He wanted to go and hide in the deepest hole he could find.

Instead, he checked his Repulsor again and stretched as much as his Powered Armor allowed.

“Watch it there, sleepyhead, you just wake up?” Ortiz asked.

“Sleeping in this thing is a cold bitch,” Jerome complained.

“Yeah, cold iron bitch,” Ortiz agreed.

“Why is it that you two are always on the lines together?” Alexis asked.

“Started on what, Masoul?” Jerome asked.

“Yeah,” Ortiz said. “Fuck, I’m getting old.”

“Well the general here didn’t like being stuck in the rear with the gear. So he decided to come and jump into the front line. Bribed me with chew to shut up and not tell the sergeant major,” Jerome laughed.

“Oh yeah, almost forgot,” Ortiz said, pulling out a tin of chew and tossing it to Jerome.

“Oh, you shouldn’t have,” Jerome laughed, trying to distract from how touched he was by Ortiz’s gesture and the history that had started Ortiz running away from his command staff to get on the front lines with his Troopers.

Jerome looked at the tin, memories, a lifetime of them, passing behind his eyes.

“It’s not going to pack itself boy, and those fuckers look like they’re going to try something soon,” Ortiz’s dark voice cut into his thoughts.

Jerome opened his helmet and arm, his eyes itchy as he put in a chew.

“Thanks, Ortiz,” Jerome said, thanking him for so much more than just the chew.

“You’re welcome, my boy,” Ortiz said, tapping him on the shoulder and smiling. “Best damned thing I did was teaching you lot.” Ortiz looked at them all and shook his head, looking years older as he scratched his watery eyes.

Mark opened his helmet and pulled out a tin.

“Ahhh, you dick, you told me you didn’t have any!” Jerome said, spitting and closing his tin.

“Well, I knew that you were going to steal it, didn’t I? Never could ration out your cigs and chew,” Mark smiled and packed a lip.

Ortiz laughed. “You two blockheads.”

Heavies opened fire.

Helmets closed and tins disappeared.

Repulsors, up high and along the last barricade line, fired. A truck roared and blew up, a hole opening in the barricades. Troopers plugged the gap, firing at the Chosen and trying to seal the breach with debris and spray-ite.

Another vehicle detonated.

Screamers fired on both sides. The Chosen’s hit the barricades, the Troopers’ aimed for vehicles and Heavies.

Jerome checked his blade again. All of them were waiting and watching for a breach in the area they’d chosen to cover.

Chapter 89

EMFC Fearless

8/3349

The flight deck’s doors were open as they skimmed over Moon City.

People were calling them with all kinds of shit; complaining about the debris, the low flyby.

The security people were losing their shit. Hall had not so politely told them where to fuck off to, and what to do with their useless fucking complaints.

The solar sails were open fully as Fearless and Justice followed one another in the universe’s version of tag.

Hall felt gravities he had never experienced before crushing on his body.

None of them could move as the extra gravities made breathing hard.

I really hope Yeltsin is as good with those computers as he seems to think he is, Hall thought as they dove into Earth’s upper atmosphere, engines first.

Fearless was torn at by gravity, inertia, atmosphere, and all of the joys that came with it.

The flight decks were torn apart with the winds and pressures.

“Hangars,” Hall grunted, trying to press the button that would move the loaded Combat Shuttles from their holding place to the hangars.

They and the flight deck had been left open as the doors might weld shut with the friction-turned-heat they were being pummeled with.

The flight deck was in worse shape than they thought, so it left just the hangars for the Combat Shuttles and their Fighters to escape with.

He got the button before anyone else.

I think I broke the fucking thing.

Combat Shuttles were dropped to the hangars and the launch system, that was rarely used, tossed them free of Fearless.

Hall watched as the Combat Shuttles and their Fighters pushed free of the Carrier and deeper into Earth’s atmosphere.

The Fighters had been attached to the Combat Shuttles, two big ass fucking booster rockets to get them where they needed to go.

Right in those fucking Harmony fucktards’ backsides.

The Carrier came out of Earth’s atmosphere, trailing debris, missing armor and weapons that had been torn off.

“Well, I fucking hope they don’t send me the bill for this one,” Hall said, finally able to get a full lungful of air.

Chapter 90

Mega City

Earth, Sol System

8/3349

There was an Earth-shattering boom from overhead. People ducked in response.

“The fuck was that?” Alexis asked, looking to her reports as there were more concussive cracks.

“Fearless, and…,” Ortiz looked at the sky, waiting for something. There was another massive boom that drowned out the weapons fire inside the citadel. “That, was Justice.”

“Well shit, that didn’t sound healthy,” Dominguez said.

“Oh fuck no, they used everything they could to get here, stripped the ships bare, rammed Earth’s atmosphere, engines first and going full blast. Seems Hall didn’t want to leave us to have all the fun,” Ortiz said.

“You have a weird definition of fun,” Alexis frowned.

“The fuck was that?” Tyler asked, jogging over.

“Reinforcements,” Mark said, watching the barricades.

“Well, that’s one hell of an entrance, when will they get here?” Tyler asked.

“No known time estimates,” Ortiz shrugged.

“What are you doing here?” Alexis asked Tyler on a private channel.

“I’m not about to let you and my family run into this shit storm without me,” Tyler said, ending any argument.

Alexis hugged him, scared to lose him and scared to die.

“I love you,” he said, putting his arm around her, the other arm holding his AMR.

“I love you too,” she said, tears coloring her eyes.

They’d gone through so much. When most people would have separated, they had come together. He had always been there for her, and she couldn’t have wished for a better husband. She just wished that they had many more years together, that they’d found one another sooner. She knew it was illogical.

Even with reinforcements, the Chosen were just meters away. She’d take as many of them down with her as she could, but in the end either or both of them might end up laying face down on citadel’s scarred and casing-covered floor, just another body among the masses.

She saw Mark move and Tyler tense. A Chosen climbed over the top of the barricade, only to be greeted by Mark stabbing them in the neck.

Jerome tossed a grenade over. It went off as the Chosen started throwing grenades behind the barricades.

Alexis and Tyler released one another, pulling out their blades.

“Troopers, cut these motherfuckers down! No mercy!” Ortiz yelled, using a desk and Mark to jump over the barricades.

“Over the top!” Mark shouted, sticking his blade into the ground and bracing his hands. Troopers ran as Mark tossed them over the barricades and into the Chosen.

Jerome, Hughes, and Dominguez did the same, a wave of grey Troopers bearing their vibra-blades and yelling their anger.

Alexis yelled and jumped at Mark. He tossed her up and over. She cleared the barricade and came down into the cleared area where Ortiz and the other Troopers were fanning out. She clipped a PAC as she landed, and drove a blade into their chest as she rose.

Her twin blades cut a rifle apart, slashing the user and stabbing the one beside him.

She felt a bump from the side as another Trooper with dual blades danced.

“May I have this dance?” Tyler asked taking off an arm, a leg, and a head.

“Most certainly!” They fought beside one another, moving sideways or across, as if they were one puppet guided by a single master.

Mark landed among the Chosen like a bull in a china shop.

His extra height and mass made him a big target. He moved liked a buzz saw, cutting down anyone that was reacting and a few that didn’t know what the fuck was going on.

Jerome, Dominguez, and Hughes made a line from the large group of Troopers to Mark, and another pocket of Troopers fought their way through Chosen.

Chapter 91

SLS Liberator

Sol System

8/3349

“The last battle has begun. EMFC Fearless and Justice have dropped off their reinforcements. It is unknown if they will get to the citadel in time. All of the Troopers and Chosen are engaged in close combat fighting. You trained them well,” NIDenise said.

“Do anything we must to get us there faster,” Nerva thought-spoke. He was so close, but things were spiralling out of control.

“Yes, sir.”

Nerva looked at the Powered Armor sitting in his room, contemplating the kind of things that would get Roma and the Legions chasing after him.

If it keeps them alive, then I’ll do it.

Chapter 92

Citadel

Earth, Sol System

8/3349

It was pure and utter chaos inside the citadel. Fusaro knew that any orders he gave would just be washed away. It was simply the Chosen and the Troopers against one another.

He watched as the Troopers leaped over their defenses, carving paths through the Chosen towards the heavy guns that were laying silent.

“Alexandria, get your people in there. There’s no way you can shoot them without hitting our own people,” Fusaro said.

“Sir.” The Chosen behind the Heavies charged in with abandon. More grist for the grinders.

Fusaro took cover behind the second barricades, watching the AMRs shoot down onto the Chosen. Repulsor gunners gave up their positions and jumped into the fray as their positions were covered in Troopers fighting the Chosen.

Something caught Fusaro’s eye.

Hours of watching every video about the Troopers had trained him to search for specific people. His eyes drew him to the group of Troopers that were making a line and advancing straight into the Chosen.

He knew the armor, the actions, the way that they worked together.

There was General Ortiz on the front lines, fighting the Chosen in close combat. To his sides were what remained of the Triple Twos.

They moved forwards, blades slicing as they traded blows and stepped over bodies. Troopers were hurled over the barricades, landing and then charging into the Chosen.

They were terrible killing machines. Training so ingrained it was a natural reaction, while augments turned off pain, and dialed up their concentration. A Trooper lost an arm, but continued fighting with their other, head-butting and kicking two more Chosen into submission until blood loss slowed them enough that they were cut down.

Fusaro watched the battle, new horrors over every inch. He had watched the battles from his screens and from afar, but now it was just meters from him.

He felt a trickle run down his leg as he saw the absolute hatred in the Troopers’ and Chosen’s eyes, doing anything and everything to kill their fellow men.

Fusaro pushed off the barricade in fear and horror at what he had brought to pass.

His armor rang like a bell as he sank to the ground, and he coughed, blood covering his screen.

Another round hit his helmet. Fusaro might have realized the horror that he had brought onto Earth and Her Colonies through Harmony, but no one was going to find out. He had a bleeding hole in his armor, and he dropped to the ground.

Chosen saw it and fought with renewed energy, fighting for the ideal that he and other greedy people had pushed for and lied about. Their lie lived on through them, for them it was real, their path to victory.

***

Tyler was tiring, but there was no time to think of his body’s needs. He was bleeding from a dozen points as he and Alexis fought side by side.

They savaged and tore the Chosen.

Tyler slipped on a Chosen. One behind brought a spear down, aiming for Tyler’s chest.

Hughes leapt forward, kicking the attacker back into his fellow PACs.

Alexis cleaved a red line through their armor.

Hughes pulled Tyler to his feet.

“Thanks, Hughes,” Tyler said, stepping back into his spot.

Hughes stepped to his other side.

“No problem, sir,” Hughes grunted, snap kicking a PAC in the helmet, stabbing them as they reeled. By the time his foot was back on the ground, he was fighting another PAC.

“Front line, hold! Second line ready. On my command, front line will take one step back. Second line will take one step forward!” Moretti yelled.

“Switch!” Tyler slashed and stepped backwards. On either side of him, Troopers and those that had been stuck in Powered Armor, stepped forward, hacking at the enemy.

Tyler drank from his water as he was pushed back behind another line of waiting combatants.

“Where the hell did you get that one from?” Mark asked.

“Ortiz and I have been talking about close-combat tactics. Turned to talking about the Romans and how they switched out their lines,” Moretti said.

“That was just looking at how other militaries operated to keep their troops fresh. Seems that you came in at the right time. I’m friggin tired,” Ortiz said.

“Must be all of that cafeteria food,” Jerome joked.

“Well we’ll be back in it soon enough,” Dominguez said.

Tyler looked around. They were twenty meters from the third line of barricades. The dead in their armor lay across the floor. Medics were hauling Troopers to the barricades and fixing them up as best as they could. The Chosen didn’t look like they were even trying to see to their wounded.

They were all swept up in a rage.

They were pressed forward, making it hard for the lead PACs to move. The Troopers who were sticking to their lines were making short work of them as they held their ground. They were a grinder being fed more meat.

Though how many PACs can we keep back?

There were many more PACs than Troopers, and every one of them was fresh as they got into the fight. The Troopers might have started rotating out, but they hadn’t slept in days. Ultimately, the strain would take its toll and people would fuck up.

“How long until those reinforcements?” Alexis asked.

“Five hours, maybe,” Ortiz said.

Fuck, Tyler thought into the tense silence.

“Well, looks like we’re going to have to do things the hard way,” Mark said, spinning his blade and flicking it clear of blood.

“Tip of the fucking spear,” Tyler agreed.

“Second line, prepare to change with first line!” Ortiz called. The Troopers out front were flagging with the pressure. Twenty minutes of fighting at the front was the limit of most people’s endurance.

An explosion went off along the line, a Chosen had blown themselves and their friends up to open a hole in the Trooper lines. It worked, and Troopers were cut down with the blast.

Chosen ran through the opening.

“On me!” Ortiz said.

Tyler followed as they moved to plug the gap. His body might be tired, but that wasn’t going to stop him.

He growled as Ortiz led them right into the Chosen black armor that was pushing past the Troopers’ lines, which had devolved into chaos.

Chapter 93

Tower

Earth, Sol System

8/3349

Nivad watched Trooper feeds parsecs away. A section entered what looked to be a fridge. It was declared clear and someone moved around the room as if looking for something. They stopped, tapping the floor with their foot.

Another Trooper moved up, placing charges on the section of floor.

Troopers stood back.

The room filled with dust as the floor blew up and metal doors below the floor blew open to reveal stairs under the freezer.

Troopers rushed down through the smoke.

Nothing moved as they pushed along a corridor. Another hatch, and this one was opened with a breaker. Again, the Troopers broke into a new room.

This wasn’t just a room, but a massive cylinder with cryo-pods stacked from the floor to the ceiling.

Troopers that were entering from other points spread out in the massive facility that looked identical to the cryo-pod bunkers under every tower in the colonies.

Thousands of Peter Quinn’s supporters lined those walls, asleep for five decades, hidden under Housapel Actual.

Troopers moved along, and Nivad watched as names and identifications were made as facial recognition pinged the people that were asleep.

The Troopers paused outside of a cryo-pod.

Luke Holden. It took a moment for the computers to make a match.

Head of the Osdal Harmony Chapter.

Nivad finished reading the message as gunfire suddenly lit up the trooper’s feed.

He looked back, to see Luke Holden’s corpse bleeding inside a holed and bloody cryo-pod.

Nivad typed in an order to the Troopers.

Open the bunker to Housapel’s air and open the pods.

Housapel was still covered in toxins, and only when the new colonists arrived would Nivad fire a warhead to clear the toxic air out.

Pods started opening a few minutes later. corporation officers woke up without any medical treatment, and a good number of them died from just that. They were the lucky ones, as the others had Troopers looking at them as they found they couldn’t breath.

They would be fully cognizant of what was going on around them, as their nervous system was disabled and they died from their lungs failing to understand the brain’s signals.

Nivad watched with cold curiosity, then opened up a channel to Wallace.

“Start destroying the Harmony FTL relays.”

“Yes, sir, it will be done.”

Nivad closed the channel, and pressed another command, so the view of Housapel was replaced with the citadel.

Troopers were engaged with the Chosen directly.

The Chosen were pushing the Troopers back across the ground, inch by inch. They were bloodied and taxed well beyond their limits as they fought for survival.

Nivad checked General Jones’ accounts. A final large sum had been sent from several accounts to an unknown party.

Pity, we could have used them.

Chapter 94

Citadel

Earth, Sol System

8/3349

Mark stabbed a PAC, and his blade cut their side instead of their belly. Mark turned as the PAC stabbed back at him.

Alexis cut the man’s arm off and Mark brought the blade he’d missed with across the PAC’s stomach.

They went down in a scream, their guts open to the world.

“Thanks,” Mark said.

“Stay focused!” she grunted, fighting her own battle.

Mark cut down a dagger-wielding Chosen. Another stabbed his leg, and he yelled as his combat pump filled him with chemical induced clarity.

“Front, second, switch!” Ortiz barked.

Mark stepped backwards two steps, leaving room for the Troopers behind to smash into the Chosen again.

Mark was breathing heavily; he felt like he would puke as sweat poured down his body. He bent over in fatigue as his armor forced oxygen and other chemicals into his face.

“You good?” Tyler asked, similarly panting.

Mark looked at his leg and the dagger that was sticking out of it.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” he said, trying to sound optimistic as he told his implants to stop bothering him about his injuries.

Alexis and Tyler were beside one another. Dominguez was looking over the line with Hughes and Ortiz. Moretti and Yu were on the front line. Jerome, Young, and Bobbie were in the medics’ care, their wounds too severe for them to cover up.

Mark looked up as there was a commotion. It was hard to pick up, just something alerted him to something wrong.

He stood up, looking over the Troopers and at the Chosen.

He heard a noise and a flash, then he saw the Chosen moving backwards.

Mark pulled up the maps that he had pushed aside so that he could see what he was fighting.

“Ortiz, the reinforcements are here!” Mark yelled, a new energy filling him.

“Thank fuck,” Ortiz said, ending the channel. “Troopers! Our reinforcements. I want everyone to the line ready to make a push forward!”

The Troopers moved forward. They had got maybe a few minutes to rest, though all of them felt more energy than they had in days. It came down to one thing: hope.

Mark could now hear the distinct noise of weapons fire over the Powered Armor melee.

The Chosen started to turn and look at their new attackers, removing the pressure on the front lines as the Troopers pushed forward. The Chosen fought like the rabid dogs they were.

Mark was more than happy to watch them cut down.

It felt like those that he had lost were watching over them as the Chosen moved to separate in two groups, one charging the security contractors, the others slashing and attacking the Troopers.

An explosion went off among the Chosen charging the security contractors. One of them had caught a bomb wearing PAC.

Holes started to appear in the Chosen’s formations.

It seemed that the Chosen were suddenly reminded that they had bomb vests, as more of them started to go off.

Mark threw his blade nailing a Chosen in the chest as they made to pull their cord.

“Troopers, move up!” Ortiz said.

Mark took five steps and cut down a Chosen engaged with a Trooper.

His blade almost cut them in two as he punched another in the head, kicking them back and spearing another in the armpit.

The Chosen line was falling faster and faster as the Troopers pressed forward. The security contractors were firing at big groups of Chosen. Others had pulled out their blades, engaging the PACs in combat.

It was a furious melee for a few minutes.

“Advance!” Ortiz barked.

The Troopers moved forward.

“No mercy!” Ortiz cried, and the Troopers yelled back with the same words.

“Advance!” The Troopers pushed past the mound of dead that had formed, and made the Chosen step backwards.

“Advance!” Ortiz called out the movement as the line moved forward.

There was a noise behind the Chosen.

“The security contractors are hitting the Chosen from the rear!” Tyler yelled out.

“Who are we?” Ortiz bellowed.

“TROOPERS!” The line yelled back.

“What do we do?” Ortiz yelled. Mark saw that his symbol was right in the front line.

“KILL!” The Troopers yelled back, pushing forwards.

Mark cut down a Chosen, and an explosion going off to his left peppered him in shrapnel.

Tyler and Alexis stood out from the carnage.

“Breakthrough!” Alexis yelled.

Mark cut down a stunned PAC, and watched the one behind them get a blade through their chest.

Mark saw a security contractor who looked like they were stunned at what they had done, at the sheer level of violence.

“On me!” Mark yelled, and Tyler and Alexis moved to his side as they turned like a wall to bring the Chosen under three sides of contact.

Other people were yelling ‘breakthrough’ as Troopers linked with security contractors and smashed into the Chosen.

The PACs fought hard, with everything they had, like caged animals trying to find an escape, but their exit had closed behind them and there was no escape any more.

Mark lowered his blade as Tyler cut down the last PAC.

He looked around, looking at the dissolving lines of PACs. There were enough Troopers to deal with that.

They had started with four hundred thousand Troopers, now there were less than ten thousand alive. None of the dots on Mark’s view were green, it looked like fall on Sacremon. Reds and yellows on a field of black. Behind the barricades, there were blues thrown in as people were being put into cryo.

Medics were everywhere, with Troopers doing what they could to help one another.

“It’s over,” Mark sighed, breathing, and standing, his blade held in his hand.

He couldn’t believe or understand it. Some of the Chosen tried to surrender, but the Troopers cut the last of them down.

“Yeah,” Tyler didn’t sound as if he believed his own words.

“Thought that they were going to take five hours,” Alexis said, standing next to Tyler and opening her helmet.

Tyler opened his as well.

“You look like shit,” Mark laughed, looking at Tyler’s hair as he tried to get it out of his eyes, sweat and grime covering him.

Mark pressed a command to open his helmet.

“At least I’m not too scared to open my helmet. Fuck, it smells bad out here,” Tyler said, putting an arm around Alexis, still holding his vibra-blades.

“Fucking thing’s broken,” Mark growled.

“It’s true then, you’ve just been hit in the head too many times,” Alexis laughed.

Tyler laughed as well. It wasn’t that funny, but they were alive and everything seemed so much better after being that close to death for so long.

“Thanks, sis,” Mark sighed.

“No problem,” Alexis winked.

“Now come here you.” She grabbed Tyler, pulling him down, kissing him long and deep. Tyler only had eyes for her as they came apart. They talked in soft tones, smiling and having a moment to themselves.

Mark smiled, thinking about the future.

Once Harmony had been confirmed dead and buried, then they could retire out of this life. Westerly Three Crew had a good ring to it. Mark was going to use Dashtund’s ideas and turn them into a security force and Quentin’s dream of a policing force.

He’d expand the Greenhouses and offer people money to get started on their own companies.

The future was exciting, and filled with possibilities.

A message told him Jerome, Young, and Bobbie would be okay, just a few new limbs, and Jerome was in cryo because they didn’t have the blood on hand to top him up.

Mark felt the tension slip from his body as he walked towards Ortiz and Dominguez. Towards his new life.

POSTSCRIPT

You can check out what I’m working on and upcoming releases through the following means:

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Thanks again for reading 

The Victor’s story will continue in Vanguard: Age of Elves

Coming 2017