Chapter1

Chapter2

Chapter3

Chapter4

Chapter5

Chapter6

Chapter7

Chapter8

Chapter9

Chapter10

Chapter11

Chapter12

Chapter13

Chapter14

Chapter15

Chapter16

Chapter17

Chapter18

Chapter19

Chapter20

Chapter21

Chapter22

Chapter23

Chapter24

Chapter25

Chapter26

Chapter27

Chapter28

Chapter29

Chapter30

Chapter31

Chapter32

Chapter33

Chapter34

Chapter35

Chapter36

Chapter37

Chapter38

Chapter39

Chapter40

Chapter41

Chapter42

Chapter43

Chapter44

Chapter45

Chapter46

Chapter47

Chapter48

Chapter49

Chapter50

Chapter51

Prologue

Legion Headquarters

Roma, Hellenic System

1/3206

“So what have we got today?” Legate Aurelius asked.

He had short cropped hair that framed his strong looking face, which looked like it should be one of the carvings on Easter island. He rubbed a calloused hand over his African features. He was of the original legionnaires from the Hellenic System.

“You know you don’t have to talk out loud,” NIEli said, directly through his optical nerves.

“I don’t have to, but I like talking more ,” Aurelius sighed.

“It’s faster to talk this way,” NIEli said.

“It would be if you hurried up with the report on the latest goings on!” Aurelius, thought-spoke back at the artificial intelligence he’d had attached to his arm since he was eight.

“See so much faster! The EMF carrier Reclaimer has reached Earth with Nerva. It looks like Nivad has plans to copy his ideas for Alpha company to the rest of the carrier - better tech, better training. In other news, it looks like there is a religious group in not only Masoul, but also Fernix, Osdal and Housapel,” NIEli said, as his playful tone fell into the background.

“Okay, and what are the intentions of this religious group?” Aurelius asked out loud, his face pensive.

“Do good by your fellow man, a very communist outlook on everything, sharing and all that,” NIEli said as Aurelius closed his eyes, and rubbed his brow with his right hand.

“So they’re completely against Earth and Her Colonies?” Aurelius asked.

He was pretty sure he knew the answer to his question.

“Pretty much. They’re a religion that thinks there is an almighty God that wants them to share what they have. The scripture comes from Judaism, Christianity, Islam, and Buddhism. It’s rather extensive and pretty damn brutal if people don’t do as they say. It seems that they took their techniques from every religious dark period. They also love to show their punishments to their faithful so they don’t go to the authorities,” NIEli surmised.

“Okay, we keep it from our operatives for now. This war will give us the opportunity to pull out more EMF personnel than we have in years. I just wish that it didn’t mean knowing that so many other humans were fighting one another, instead of the much bigger threat the Union has been fighting for the past five hundred years,” Aurelius said, sighing. The EHC had awoken the sleeping beasties. Roma nearly fell because of them fleeing instead of helping them.

The Union and EHC hadn’t come into contact with one another since that incident, at least that the EHC knew of.

“Send a copy of the information to Primus Legate Versanti, another to spymaster Wersho von Schmidt. It seems that Earth and Her Colonies are going to have a war.” Aurelius looked at his own reflection on the view screen.  The screen was made to simulate a window out of the office buried under two-kilometers of Roma and Legion headquarters.

The look in his eyes was that of someone who’d seen over a hundred and fifty years of war and death. They were barely holding the line. Every shred of ground they made had to be clawed away from the greater enemy.

He had ex-wives and children that would tell anyone where his soul belonged, and their answer would always be to the Legion.

Chapter 1

Westerly Complex

Earth, Sol system

1/3206

It felt like they had all been looking at Sacremon disappearing into the distance just five months ago, not the twenty-six years that the calendar now said.

“There’s our little red ball,” Tyler said, as they looked down on Earth’s red clouds that moved slowly around the tiny marble that seemed to hang in the darkness of space. The only difference of color from the massive dust clouds were the clear areas where the larger towers resided, or other towers that weren’t covered by massive electrostatic fields and twinkled as the sun’s light caught them. As they orbited Earth, they saw the dim lights of slums and the rail system that spread out from Mega-City.

It was the first time that they had seen Earth from orbit. When they had left, they were thrown into boot camp so fast that they hadn’t even thought about snatching a look back at the planet they had lived on for eighteen years.

Tyler looked over his family, thinking of them. Nothing else would make sense at this point. Jerome, Alexis and Mark had all filled out with their time in the EMF. The looks in their eyes showed their biggest changes. They had seen things that people shouldn’t.

Their battle across Sacremon was brutal, but Tyler would not belittle another fight to say it was any less or more brutal.

Alexis squeezed him gently as if sensing his dark thoughts. He smiled at her, and pulled her closer with his arm which rested around her shoulder.

Somehow they’d come together as boyfriend and girlfriend. He wasn’t going to mess with it.

The last of their merry group was Tyler’s brother, Mark.

They didn’t share a single drop of the same blood, yet they were closer than most brothers that did.

They had grown up in the slums, and on Tyler’s eighteenth birthday, they joined Earth’s Military Force to get out of the slums and try to make a life for themselves. Instead, they’d been dropped on Sacremon - one of a handful of colony planets that had actually fought the EMF instead of surrendering as soon as their carrier arrived in-system.

Tyler felt Alexis’ comforting heat as she coiled around his arm. His thoughts turned from the battles to the time he had spent away from Earth.

They met nearly sixty years ago for people that didn’t go into cryo-stasis. For them, it had been about three years since they left Earth.

They became close through basic training, and some training Mark had forced on them. Rather close in fact.

Then they woke up above Sacremon - a planet of seven million that supplied other planets with food. The locals didn’t like the Corporations lording over them, and they rebelled. The Corporation requested Earth’s Military Forces, generally called the EMF, and they answered.

Alexis never went to Growing City which was the first city Mark, Jerome and Tyler had assaulted. She went to Processing, her second city, which was an education for her. It was an education for all that survived it.

Jerome was lumped with Mark and Tyler through their time on Sacremon. They became close, as their friends died around them. They took losses that hadn’t been seen in seven decades.

None of them were returning the same people. Yet, it was hard to think that Earth had changed in any way.

“Force five will now start boarding shuttles for assigned leave,” said the professionally neutral voice of the carrier’s command center.

“Well, let’s go and see how Earth’s changed,” Mark said.

Tyler felt the seeds in his pocket as they walked through the familiar corridors to the shuttle bays.

No one had personal belongings, but they all grabbed the pistols they bought. They were allowed to use them anywhere they were deployed, including Earth. Their weapons’ attachments were stored with their armor rack. Everything else was stored in their personal lockers, or they would be re-issued when they returned.

They walked between the yellow lines of the shuttle bays, their engines opened as crews worked on them. The massive blast doors that opened up the length of Reclaimer were shut, as shuttles dropped into the lower hangar which allowed shuttles to take off and land without opening the entire shuttle bay.

No one needed the cargo master’s help as they got into their seats, and pulled their harnesses together with satisfying locking noises.

“What do you think Westerly complex is going to be like?” Tyler asked.

He never brought it up before. While they were training under Nerva, they mostly forgot about their destination.

Even after training with Nerva, they looked to improve their skills that they found lacking on Sacremon.

Over time, Mark and Jerome had lost themselves in the world of books and drinks. Thankfully neither allowed the other to think too much. And Tyler had spent a good amount of time with Alexis, who was now firmly in the ‘girlfriend’ category.

“I dunno,” Mark said.

There was a note of uncertainty in his tone.

“No matter what, we’ll have a good time,” Alexis said, daring for anyone to contradict her. Tyler hid his grin, knowing that Jerome and Mark didn’t dare to fight her on that point.

“Right, babe?” she said, with a twinkle in her eyes showing that she had somehow sensed his near-smile.

“Of course, babe,” he said, trying to keep his face straight.

“You are a terrible liar,” Jerome laughed, Mark joining him as the shuttle moved.

“Oh, well it looks like we’re on our way,” Tyler said.

“Thank you for the notice,” Mark said, pressing his lips together in amusement.

Tyler let the jab roll off with a smile. He was happy to see Mark and the others smiling.

The shuttle’s engines powered up as atmosphere was vented.that they were dropped in to Heavy doors could be heard opening, as the engine’s rose to full power and pushed forward.

Tyler pulled out his data slate, using his implants to access the shuttle’s cameras and have a look at Reclaimer.

The ship wasn’t pretty. Her hull showed where meteorites had smashed into her. Sparse and stubby arrays of weaponry poked out of the sides, and the missile tubes had an even more rare appearance.

The ship was a rough two kilometers long, and simple grey. There was no armor or defenses on her. No one had ships capable of leaving atmosphere or attacking long-distance ships, so the EMF didn’t look to armor panels or ways to defend the ship. There simply wasn’t anything to threaten them.

The mass of Reclaimer fell away as he was able to see Resolute station. It was the EMF’s home. The citadel was just the front door. Twelve carriers, including Reclaimer, were docked with the station like some kind of deadly metal flower.

Tyler looked at it in awe. When he was on Earth, he could see the glint of stations orbiting on a clear night. He always wondered which one was Resolute.

The ride passed quickly as they hit atmosphere. The shuttle bucked and shook, but after an actual combat drop, this was nothing.

Jerome could barely keep his eyes open. The shuttles movements lulled him to sleep. Mark sat back in his chair, and looked at the other side of the shuttle with an almost bored expression.

Alexis looked skeptical. Tyler squeezed her hand, and she gave him a small tight smile and a squeeze back as the shuttle’s ride smoothed out.

Tyler stowed his data slate as Mark pulled out his pistol and checked it. He raised his large arms, and checked that his blades were still there with a few movements. Tyler pressed his arms to his sides to do his own check. He didn’t want to alert Alexis.

“Coming down on the Citadel. We thank you for travelling Reclaimer shuttle services, and hope you have a good leave,” the pilot said. His tone wasn’t as fake as Tyler thought it might be.

The shuttle’s engines billowed as it came to a halt. There was a bouncing sensation, as legs took the shuttle’s weight. The cargo master checked the airlock as people unhooked their harnesses.

The cargo master declared the airlock’s seal good, and the shuttle disgorged anxious and bored people in a rush.

Mark let out a small hiss of a laugh.

“Back once again,” he said, as he looked at the same room that they came up the day they became troopers, and were loaded on shuttles for Reclaimer.

Now veterans filled the room instead of boots, all moving with purpose towards the lifts that shot downward.

They got to the nearest lift, waiting a few minutes for it to fill before it shot down. They got off on a different floor than the one they entered so long ago.

People walked up to a desk, putting the identification chip in their wrists on the receiver. They waited a few moments before boxes were shoved out towards them. The boxes contained the belongings that they stored.

.

Mark and Tyler donned their dusters, the large coats feeling odd on their wider shoulders. They actually filled them, rather than disappearing into them.

Jerome and Alexis just grabbed their scarves and breathers.

“I see why people bring their helmets down now,” Tyler said, putting on the ill-fitting mask and goggles. They didn’t fit the best, but if they worked for eighteen years, they would work for a few months.

“Let’s go see how westerly is doing,” Mark said, pushing onwards. Jerome walked with him as Tyler and Alexis followed.

It didn’t look like it changed at all in Mega-City. The buildings were still pristine, traffic still moved at a frantic pace overhead, and the train was pouring off people who just reached their sign-up date.

Tyler looked at them with new eyes, the same kind of eyes that he was subjected to when he started as part of the EMF. He wasn’t trying to be mean. He was trying to figure out if they were going to be an asset or liability – if it was worth having them beside him in a fire-fight, or get as far away from them as possible and be ready to take their position.

They got to the train. They didn’t have to wait long before there was a train going out to the rest of Earth.

They found a secluded corner of the train. No one looked to approach them. Most of them had an almost reverent look in their eyes as they turned to their friends, talked behind their hands, and tried to hide their pointing while failing badly.

“So what are we going to do with the ten mil if your gang isn’t around?” Jerome said with a heavy voice. Tyler felt shock at the suddenness of Jerome’s words, and confusion about why the hell he was talking about ten mil. He looked to Mark in alarm.

Mark’s back tensed with Jerome’s words, but didn’t put him in his place as he would have done with the majority of others.

“Then we’re going to have to go with just setting up the JV corporation, and then layer everything so far back that they don’t realize we’re in the EMF,” Mark said as his shoulders relaxed, hoping that any possible crisis was averted.

“What the hell is this ten mil about?” Tyler asked.

“You didn’t tell him yet?”

“I was going to, but stuff came up and there were too many ears about,” Mark said, opening his hands and shrugging in apology.

“What your brother didn’t tell you is that we got ten million for saving that CEO’s life. Your brother is a decent trader and liar. Pullo and Gupta got 2.5 million credits, as did we, with them not here anymore,” Jerome paused, his jaw working to cut back emotions before he continued. “Your brother and I now have five million apiece. I’ve thrown my lot in with his, and we’re going to see if we can’t set up something on Earth for us to retire to. If any of us survive the EMF, then we get a part of the business,” Jerome said, as Tyler looked between him and his brother with shock.

He couldn’t wrap his head around the amount of money that they were talking about. They all made nearly a hundred thousand credits on their tour. That kind of money was enough for families to live decent lives for at least a decade. With ten million, they could buy a whole damned sector.

“What business are you talking about?” Alexis asked, recovering faster than Tyler.

“Hauling, specifically hauling through Sol, but Mark here wants to get into long-distance hauling, and it makes sense when looking at how we’re going to be gone for so long. Having a bunch of independents working for us, and bringing in coin, is better than having a bunch of contracts all the time and no one there to sign off on them for some mysterious reason,” Jerome assented.

“Plus, those independents are going to get the best damned rate that they can find,” Mark said, slapping his knee to emphasize the point.

“Yeah, but their ability to take a little extra off the top is a bit high in my opinion,” Jerome said. The two of them were starting an ongoing argument.

“You have ten million credits?” Mark asked.

“And some change. We made the fund with Gupta and Pullo, so all their savings defaulted into the account when they died - including incoming pay,” Jerome said.

“Well that is a hell of a lot of money to start up a just-in-case fund,” Tyler said.

“What about the seeds then? Why did you get those?” Alexis asked.

Mark looked to Tyler who went red.

“I guess you were going to find out anyway, but they’re insurance. We give those to the gardens, and we get them backing us. They’re more powerful than any gang, and if they think about going against us, then we threaten to tell the corporations where the seeds and information came from,’’ Mark said.

She made a noise, indicating that she was rather impressed with the scheming that Mark and Jerome were doing already.

For the rest of the journey, they talked about how they were going to distribute the information to the gardeners, what to charge, and how they would sell the seeds as well.

They gamed through most scenarios by the time they reached Westerly sector.  They just needed to try it out on some real gardeners.

Everyone pulled their scarves on, and made sure that their eye and mouth protection was good before they went into the howling winds of Earth.

They walked in a slightly bent line, so it looked more like an arrow as they moved through the streets.

The buildings were the same. But the people were all different as they passed. The people stared at them as they went by. Troopers were a rare sight, and seeing four of them – two wearing dusters – were a much stranger sight.

They kept going. Mark and Tyler knew the sector like the back of their hand, and all the major streets were open with people moving back and forth in a mass. Even the rushed people from the Slums moved out of the troopers’ way, as they passed through on the way to W3C’s tower.

“Looks like the boss was right about it still being here when we came back,” Tyler said.

The gates were different, and armor panels looked uniform instead of the thrown-together look they had before.W3C was painted across the main gate in black paint, daring anyone to defy it.

Mark went to the door and knocked on it. Someone poked their head over the side.

“Who the fuck are you?” they asked.

“I’m fucking Mark Victor. Go and tell the boss that he owes me a beer,” Mark yelled back.

The questioner seemed to re-think yelling at a pissed-off trooper again, and Mark could hear a runner going over the main gate’s metal framework.

Tyler was beginning to wonder if the boss was even still alive when the main gate started opening.

Mark walked in first, his arm close to his pistol. Everyone else’s hands were suspiciously close to their weapons as well.

They went through the kill-corridor and were met by a ground of twelve armed W3C bodyguards.

“We’re going to have to take your weapons before you see the boss,” one of them said. His tone had all the confidence of a seventeen year-old, who thought the world only existed so he could flee it through the EMF.

“We’re troopers. We don’t answer to anyone but the EMF now. So let’s be about going up to his office. He won’t be happy if you kept us waiting,” Mark said, actively resting his hand on his holster.

The seventeen-year-old made a jerky motion with their head, and the bodyguards fell in around them and escorted them to the elevators. Inside the tower, it looked better than ever. Plus, it seemed to have air conditioning and some of those expensive electrostatic veils that kept the dust at bay.

Different faces moved through familiar hallways.

Tyler saw the tension in Mark’s back, as he felt his own face harden into impassable lines. He felt Alexis’ eyes on him and turned to see her. Her face was hard, but she gave him a reassuring glimmer of a smile. Their eyes darted apart as they continued to look at the gang members who were looking at them with curiosity. The gang members were assessing if they were who they said they were, and how much of a threat they presented.

A number of the bodyguards rested at the back of the elevator. The rest stayed on the first floor as the doors quickly shut behind Tyler’s party, and they rode the elevator all the way to the top of the tower.

The doors opened, and they found more guards waiting on the other side.

They were escorted into the boss’s office. Maps were splayed over the desk, and weapons lay on racks on the wall. The collection grew from when the brothers were last in the room.

An older looking bald man sat behind that desk, his hardened face melting into a smile.

“Mark! Tyler!” He stood up and came around the desk. He looked to be about fifty or so. But Tyler recognized the eyes to be those of someone much older, through experience and time.

“Boss,” Mark said with a grin. He offered his hand to the jubilant bald man with his scarred head.

The boss swatted the hand away and brought Mark into a hug. He was about a foot shorter, but Mark returned the brief gesture.

He turned, bestowing Tyler with another radiant smile as they too embraced briefly.

“Ahh, so I see that the rumors before you left were true, Alexis,” Quentin said. His lips pressed together in amusement as his eyes sparkled looking between her and Tyler.

“Silva, there’s no issue here. Grab them a drink and the good stuff. We have much to talk about,” Quentin said.

“Yes, sir,” said one of the guards, who was a swarthy and large but not overly tall looking man. He shooed the somewhat stunned guards out of the room.

“Come, take a seat,” Quentin said, bringing them over to a private room that many important and secret deals took place in.

They settled in, and Quentin looked to Jerome.

“Hello, you must be Jerome,” Quentin said as he flashed a smile, holding out his hand.

“Yes sir,” Jerome said, shaking his hand. “Thanks for looking after them.”

“They’ve done the same for me on occasion,” Quentin grinned, as Silva returned with a tray of glasses and amber-colored liquid in a bottle.

Quentin did the honors, pouring generous amounts in each of the glasses.

“For those lost, may we never forget,” Quentin said, as his eyes darkened and his smile faded. The others in the room raised their glasses, and tapped it together with the surface before they took a generous swig.

There was a companionable pause as they listened to the wind howling at the windows of the office, memories riding into the minds on that wind.

“So what was your planet?” Quentin asked, looking to them and sinking into his chair.

“Sacremon,” Mark said, as if the word was a curse.

Quentin nodded, and had a look of regret in his eyes.

“I got the basic idea of what happened. What a shit-show,” he said, taking a gulp as if to remove a nasty taste from his mouth.

The others silently agreed.

“So how has Westerly-three-complex done?” Tyler said.

“Pretty good, seeing as we control all of three, five and seven to twelve complexes,” Quentin said with a proud smile. He was just four complexes away from controlling the entire sector. “We’ve got alliances with two of the sectors, and the other two are probably going to surrender instead of face us. It’s made us the target of more attacks, but Westerly sector has never been better,” Quentin said.

“We have a little business we need to see to as well,” Mark said. The look in his eyes made Quentin sit-up a bit.

“What kind of business?” Quentin asked.

Mark reached into his pocket and pulled out a handful of seeds, as Quentin’s eyes went round.

“How the hell did you smuggle those off of the planet?” Quentin asked, looking at the seeds in Mark’s hand.

“They were with me in an emergency cryo pod,” Tyler said.

Alexis looked at him in alarm. He might have forgotten to tell her how close he came to not getting past Growing City.

“We’ve also got the planet’s library on growing stuff,” Mark said.

Quentin sat back, taking a slow sip of his drink to buy himself time to think.

“Damn,” Quentin said after a slow minute.

He leaned forward, his brow pinched together in thought.

“Well, we’re going to have to do this one under the radar. I can get my people to bring us a number of gardeners. We’re going to have to spread this knowledge further than just westerly complex. This is going to take a while to set up.”

His serious expression turned into one of pride.

“It does look like you’re building one hell of a backup plan though.”

“It’s not even the biggest part,” Mark said. He glanced to Jerome, giving him a reassuring look before he started to divulge his plans of opening a hauling company.

After some time, Quentin seemed to remember that Tyler and Alexis were in the room.

“I say that we let these two go and do as they wish, as we talk business,” Quentin said, looking to the bottle of amber liquid which had gone down considerably. “And get another bottle of this,” he added in a murmur.

“Suits me just fine,” Tyler said, standing. Alexis joined him.

“My people will watch out for you, so don’t worry about a thing. Have a good time, and don’t stay out too late!” Quentin warned, giving them a wink.

“Real subtle, boss,” Tyler said, seeing the alcohol was having an effect on the older man who let out a rumbling belly laugh. Tyler and Alexis clasped hands.

“They need more booze, might be an idea to get them some food as well,” Tyler said to Silva as he grabbed Alexis’ hand, and pulled her through the tower. She slapped his arm playfully but he held on, flashing her a smile. He had way too few moments like this, and he was going to enjoy taking her on a real date.

Chapter 2

Tower

Earth, Sol system

3/3206

Nivad Selvra looked over the reports from the carrier Reclaimer. His lips twisted in annoyance, as the people around the table waited in pure silence while he went through the report at his own leisure.

He had olive skin, with what might have been called sharp Asian features in another time. But in this day and age, it was called Eastern features. His hair was styled in an appealing way, but without the eccentricities that most CEO’s did to show their wealth. His suit was simple. Unless someone knew fabrics and tailoring, they would have thought it inexpensive.

He tapped his lips in thought, before he flicked through another page.

He swiped through a few more pages on the holographic table, before he pinched his fingers together and removed them from his view.

The people around the table were Nivad’s agents that kept an eye on the various colonies and other interests. The Commander of the EMF and his aides, and the first minister’s aides, all watched.

All of them waited on Nivad’s word.

“Give the carrier and the personnel a bonus for their efforts, and take it from the wages of those that won’t be collecting them. I want to show the rest of the EMF that this is the kind of thing I want to see. Approve all transfers they request from other units, as well as promotions they desire. We will see if they are capable of making a combat unit trained enough for use on even the worst planets. Upgrade their combat package from Charlie to Alpha loadout. Make sure that our agents are within their ranks. While this might be a new venture possibility, I do not want it coming back in our faces.”

His eyes found the EMF commander and the intelligence department heads as his finger tapped on the arm of his chair. He calculated their age with his own for measure.

He tilted his chair, looking to the wall which was changed to resemble a window that looked out onto a green lush planet – not one covered in dust. As he thought, others made notes on their slates..

He received his current position because he was there for the right people, and knew just where to bury the bodies of their issues. Of course, he never revealed that he remembered where they were buried afterwards.

His biggest strength was being a negotiator that could play both sides perfectly, creating a binding agreement through him and always gaining something from the experience. It was why he controlled the spy network that ran through Earth and Her Colonies, and the EMF at the same time.

He was the ultimate judge - the one who could tell corporations how things were going to go, with the might of the EMF and several uses of blackmail backing him.

“Now I want to know how these colonists got these abilities, making nerve toxin, bombs and weapon systems that took down Combat Shuttles. Someone had to be backing them. I want to know how we got to this point.” Nivad’s voice cooled, as people made sure to not look in his direction.

“Are there any other reports of interest?” Nerva asked.

“A new silent group have started up a transport business within Sol,” one of Nivad’s intelligence heads said, hastening to go on as Nivad’s eyebrow seemed to twitch. “The reason I bring it up is that it is nearly untraceable. There are no known owners, they’re running it through drop-box, and orders are going through the westerly-three-complex gang.”

“So a gang is looking to move goods around Sol. As long as they are paying the proper fees for whatever they’re transporting, we will leave them be,” Nivad said.

“Yes, sir,” his aid answered, quickly glancing down.

Nivad looked around the table.

No one raised their hand or indicated that they had anything to say.

“Very well, it looks like Sacremon has recovered in the twenty-six years since their uprising. I still want to have a Carrier on position in the area for the next twenty years.” That amount of time was trivial for him. He was a hundred and fifty years old, with science saying he was going to live for another five hundred years with current practices.

“Tell the president to cut down on the taxes on the traders. I want a plan to stimulate transport production. We’re moving more materials than ever, and we’re low on ships to move them. I want that to change,” Nivad said, as his eyes swept through the people at the table. He didn’t act to demonstrate his power. He was power. Making others wait for him was only the natural order of things.

Nivad pressed a button, and a white noise filled the room.

“Dalia,” Nivad said, as the woman pulled out file folders with papers.

“This is the latest information from Masoul. It looks like this group called Harmony isn’t going away,” he started, as people read through the folders being passed out.

Alarm was clear in their body language. More than one went pale with their new reading material.

Chapter 3

EMFC Reclaimer

Earth, Sol system

3/3206

“So let me get this right. From your sources, it looks like the fucktards running the EMF - primarily fuctardio Nivad Selvra him-fucking-self - is sending us to Masoul? Where Strike station, the only other EMF station, resides?” Ortiz asked, his eyes boring into Nerva who was smoking a cigar.

“Yes,” Nerva said.

Ortiz devolved into colorful swearing, Nerva passed him a stress ball he kept in his desk.

Ortiz barely noticed, his large arms flexing hard enough to make the veins in his neck pop out. The ball looked like it was struggling to not be a pancake under the man’s strength.

“So, we’re going to be put into limbo?” Captain Harold asked.

He was the only other person in the room.

Limbo was when a carrier’s troopers were kept in cryo while the carrier’s engineers, flight crew, and medical personnel were rotated in and out of cryo - keeping the ship functional, and waiting for orders to be sent at another battle.

It was one of the things that made carriers so insular. There were carriers that had been in limbo for nearly a hundred years.

“Looks like it, but then Nivad’s giving us all of this training time. Even if we go into limbo, I feel that we’re going to be at the front of battle in the near future,” Nerva said.

“So what do we do in the meantime?” Harold asked.

“We train. We make our troopers forget that there was such a thing as Bare Minimum. We train them to win, and make sure we’re ready to destroy whatever the EMF decides to send us at,” Nerva said, with no room for maneuvering. His words were calm and cold iron.

“Damn fucking right,” Ortiz growled, coming out of his swearing fugue. He was still mangling the stress ball to shit, but there was focused murder in his eyes. No more blind anger.

Harold nodded his agreement, looking to his trooper brothers. Their people relied on them to give them a plan to survive. It was their duty to see that Nivad’s plans fell squarely in the crapper.

“What’s the plan, Major?” he asked.

Nerva exhaled a stream of cigar smoke, his eyes reminding Harold why Nerva’s nickname was ‘Iceman.’

“We plan to attack Masoul. We don’t know the particulars of how the enemy will react, but we know they’ll be probably armed and there will be a lot of them. I want us to dictate the battle, so, traps, barricades, things to slow the enemy down as we pile fire into them. It’s going to be close quarters, possibly two close to use E-twelves. We’re going to train everyone to fight with blades.”

Ortiz paused his squeezing, and both he and Harold looked at Nerva in confusion.

“We have those vibra-blades. They can get through anything. If these things get in close, our service blades aren’t going to do it,” Nerva said as he looked to them both.

Harold nodded, and Ortiz grunted and went back to squeezing.

Nerva puffed on his cigar as Ortiz spat his dip spit into a bottle.

“We’ve been given five months to train our people up. I want to implement alpha company training to the entire Division. We’re also getting new tech in the shape of new helmets. I want everyone ready for anything as soon as we hit Masoul, or any other system for that matter,” Nerva said.

“Five months?” Harold said, as he got a nod from Nerva and looked to Ortiz. They nodded to one another.

“We’ll see to it,” Ortiz replied for both of them. “Though, who in the hell is going to be leading them in fighting with vibra-blades?”

“The devil himself,” Nerva said, as a flicker of amusement passed over his face.

“Who?” Harold asked, as he looked between Ortiz and Nerva.

“Mark Victor, sometimes uses his old nickname, Diablo. He and his brother are both in the same platoon. Gets a bit confusing if people are calling them both Victor,” Ortiz explained.

“So what’s the other called?” Harold asked.

“SWAS,” Nerva replied.

“Serviced with a smile, on account of his good looks and the fact that no one that’s pissed him off should be within ten kilometers of him and his E-12,” Ortiz said, as he looked to Nerva for confirmation.

“Sounds like a plan, as well as having Jerome on the Repulsor training. They were trained up to Alpha Company standards for Warrants while everyone else slept,” Nerva said.

Harold nodded. He never met the three, but he heard enough tidbits from the lower ranks to know that there was something to them. With so few survivors from Sacremon, he thought it was just wild tales to give the troopers hope.

With Nerva and Ortiz’s backing, his interest in them rose a couple notches. He still hadn’t made a decision on them. He would have to meet them first.

“I also have it on good report that we will be leaving sooner rather than later,” Nerva said.

“So we should start getting a plan sorted out,” Ortiz said.

“Quite,” Nerva said, as he pulled three tablets from a drawer and passed one to each of them.

Ortiz let out a snort of laughter and Harold sighed, taking the tablet anyway.

Chapter 4

Westerly Three Complex

Earth, Sol System

3/3206

“So, why are we here?” Kova asked. She was the effective leader of the greenhouses in the area, and linked to a number of others. She was the one that Mark and his group needed to convince.

She devoted her life to caring and growing the plants of her greenhouses. It was easy to tell since dirt was on her hands, and she had an earthy smell to her.

“My friends have a proposition for you, for all of you - one that could open a whole new door for the greenhouses on Earth,” Quentin said, as he looked to all the gardeners in the room. They looked skeptical, but Quentin had built up his reputation of being a fair businessman.

They would hear him out.

“Very well, let’s hear this growing miracle,” Kova said impatiently. She wanted to get back to looking over the results of her Ph testing on the soil sample from Sector five’s greenhouse.

“Come in,” Quentin said into a comm unit. Kova was getting annoyed with all this smoke and mirrors shit.

A big bastard walked in. His eyes swept the group in front of him, and assessed them in a way she hadn’t felt since she left her orphanage decades ago. The other shorter man did the same.

Their hands were down at their sides but ready. The dusters were open, and she could see the smart clothes underneath.

“What is the EMF doing here?” she asked.

“This is Mark Victor and Jerome Gomez. I guess I’ll leave this to them,” Quentin said, as he pointed to each before he sat back in his seat.

“Thanks. First, if any of this is breathed to anyone in the EMF or outside of the greenhouses, we will make sure it is the last thing you say,” Mark said, as his eyes looked over everyone to make sure the threat settled in.

People shifted uncomfortably and Mark nodded.

“Good, now this,” he said as he pulled out a data chip and put it on the table, activated it and pulled data from it, “is the holy grail of farming. I’ll give you five minutes to check it over and then we’ll continue talking.”

Kova was annoyed, but she pulled the files over to her side of the table and started opening them.

Holy shit on a stick. She wasn’t normally a person to swear, but it was hard not to as she went through the information.

The information contained in the book was decades of research. The implications of such processes could have dramatic effects on growing production as a whole.

The file suddenly disappeared to the annoyed sounds around the table.

“Looks like we have your attention then,” Mark said, as a smile formed on his and Jerome’s face.

“Where did you get this from?” Kova asked.

“Sacremon, the growing planet,” Jerome answered, as he stepped up to the table and grabbed something from his cargo pocket.

“We also got these.” He pulled out a bag of seeds and put them on the table.

“What are those?” Kova asked, as she took a point for the greenhouse managers.

“These are genetically modified seeds for trees and plants that have ten to twenty times the yield of our current seeds. The ones that form into trees take time. Though when they’re fully formed, they provide multiple kinds of fruits, grains, nuts and beans,” he said.

Kova’s hands itched to grab them, to plant them with care and see them grow.

“Even if what you say is true, it will take decades for them to grow,” she said.

She knew the expense for all of this was incalculable, and she needed to haggle them down.

“That’s where this will help out,” Mark said, shaking the data chip. “This will help you to grow the trees within the space of months, not years.”

“So what do you want?” asked Sasha, another greenhouse manager.

“A tithe of all the profits you make from these resources, your backing, and management when we need it and to spread this knowledge across Earth,” Mark said.

“How much of a tithe?” Kova asked.

“Fifteen percent,” Jerome answered firmly.

She winced on the inside. These might have been slum boys at one time, but now they were troopers. Once they named a price in that tone, haggling was gone.

“It’s not much when you think about the fact that you will have an increased profit margin of at least seventy percent,” Mark said.

“What is the management thing all about?” Sasha asked.

Quentin raised his hand. “I think I can take this one, boys,” he said. Mark and Jerome nodded.

“These boys are going to be travelling across the stars for possibly a few hundred years. When they come back, there might not be a Westerly three complex and all of us will be long dead. With their investment, they are gaining assurances. They can pass messages to the greenhouses, who can send their orders out to their other industries that they’re controlling,” Quentin said.

Mark’s face had gone tight as he avoided looking at Quentin.

This might be the last time he sees Quentin or any of us, Kova thought. For once, her heart went out to the young man. She studied him harder than before, and saw the scars on his neck that traveled under his smart clothes. There were more on his hands and face. Jerome had a scar running through his hairline, with scars on his hands and neck as well. They grew up on Earth, and became men in battle.

“What’s to say our later generations won’t betray them? Or run away with their money?” Kova asked.

“If they do, then we will take back our assets. There is an EMF station right above Earth, and troopers look out for one another,” Mark said, with quiet violence in his voice.

Kova thought on the deal, and looked for any major issues. As long as her people abided by the rules, then everything would be okay.

Plus we get all that information on farming! And those trees!

“On behalf of my greenhouses, I accept,” Kova said.

Mark nodded to her, and slid the data chip across the tables surface. Jerome took a cylindrical storage device and rolled it over the table. She grabbed it and looked inside. There were hundreds of seeds in different sections.

A contract appeared on the surface of the table. Jerome and Mark’s finger prints were already locked into it.

“Please finger print this. Every successor you will have will also need to do the same, to ensure there are no leaks,” Quentin said.

Kova looked over the simple one-page document. There was nothing in addition to what Mark and Jerome said.

She put her thumb on the surface, and a light flashed over it. The contract was returned to Mark and Jerome.

“Good doing business with you Ms. Kova,” Mark said, as a smile came to both his and Jerome’s lips.

***

“Mister Costa, it’s good to see you,” Jerome said with a wide smile on his face, as he entered the conference room and moved to the aged looking man. He was about twenty when Jerome left, and he was one of the foremen at the shipping center he worked for.

“Jerome, my god, boy,” Costa said. His eyes teared up at the sight of him. He grasped him from his seat. They hugged and pulled apart.

“Oh god it’s been so long,” Costa said. The tears in his eyes welled as he thought of the years that had gone by. His memories of a life - so far in the past - felt as if it was a different one from his own.

“Yes it has,” Jerome said, as he pictured the strong, healthy and fit Costa he once knew. It was hard to be met with the physicality of how long he was away.

Costa got himself under control, his eyes still damp with the past. “So Mister Quentin says that you were looking for me for something?” Costa asked.

“I’ve come into a bit of money, and I want to invest it into the ship building industry,” Jerome said.

“Don’t aim high, do you,” Costa whistled, chuckling. “You’re not going to get much for the few hundred credits you get as a trooper,” he added apologetically.

Jerome looked to Mark who nodded, and took a seat. Quentin grabbed cigars and left them to talk, as they did their own reminiscing.

“We have closer to eleven million,” Jerome said.

“That’s a good one!” Costa laughed for a few moments. The laughter diminished in his throat as he started to understand Jerome’s look.

“You aren’t kidding. Damn,” Costa said, as he stroked his beard in thought. “So what were you planning?”

“We want to start building ships, then lease them out to people in-system. We’ll be getting more money later on to increase its size. Eventually, we want to build freighters. The biggest in existence,” Jerome said, as his eyes lit up with boyish dreaming. Some of it infected Costa’s own eyes.

He used the table top, sent a few messages, and checked out some back channel areas of the net that dealt with large scale deals.

He started to walk Jerome through the different things he would need. There were the various contracts and such, overhead costs, the status of yards and factories to contract out, or to buy in.

They talked about different things for the rest of the day. Mark and Quentin left at some point, and food was ushered into the room as Jerome and Costa saw to building a space-going empire.

Jerome sent Mark a message in the early hours of the next day.

They figured out three prospecting yards that they could buy and control. They had a shuttle ride set up in a few hours.

Costa and Jerome found some drinks, and reminisced about a life that seemed so long ago. Costa had three grandkids now. He lived a healthy and long damned life.

Jerome told him as little about the EMF as possible. He didn’t want to trouble the old man with the issues of war and survival.

Chapter 5

Abandoned yard 3217A

Sector 12 of Kuiper Belt, Sol System

3/3206

“This is yard three-two-one-seven,” the chipper pilot and wholesaler Dill said.

A human pickle, awesome. Mark kept his thoughts to himself as he looked out of the shuttle on the massive view screens. They weren’t the small-low expense things of Combat Shuttles. Costa was looking at everything and anything. It was a rare treat to leave Earth’s orbit in a shuttle. His three grandkids were similarly jumping and hopping around.

Mark sat in the seat next to Dill, looking over the information slate. There were a lot of blank areas on yard three-two-one-seven’s various structures. The previous owners didn’t declare what many of their additions did, before running away and defaulting on their power-plant dues.

Mark spent the nights training with Nerva to read up on different yards. There were four things going for the yard. It wasn’t too far off of the main shipping routes. It was in the asteroid belt with plenty of resources nearby, and it looked to have everything they needed.

“Why are there so many unknowns about this yard?” Mark asked.

“When the evaluators look over a yard, they look to make sure that it has the basics, then they pass it off to us for a sale,” Dill said.

Dill worked for one of the massive fuel suppliers in the system. When Mark signed the contract, he would get a twenty percent reduction if he went with their company as the sole fuel supplier. It was a very lucrative contract for the fuel companies, and one of the reasons that not many people survived with anything that needed that fuel.

If Mark could grab this yard without the contract, it would take all of his and Jerome’s combined wealth, and put them in debt at about a million apiece. Though, they could then have fuel companies competing for a much reduced contract.

They came onto the station, and Mark and Tyler pulled their dusters off and put their helmets on. They sealed them, and checked one another before they checked Costa and all of the grandkids. They were teenagers, and Costa drilled into them that they would die if they didn’t do as the adults said.

They were good with their drills, and it only took about ten minutes before they were ready to get off the shuttle.

The ramp lowered, and Mark and Jerome went first. Their boots clamped to the metal of the yard as they walked. Their sensors were cranked up to full on their helmets as they gathered information.

“The yard can make ships from regular shuttles to inner-system freighters. The dimensions of the single yard are seven hundred meters long by one hundred and fifty radius. There is a fabrication factory, living quarters and berths for five shuttles and three freighters. There is one known smelter, and there are cranes and mobile equipment,” Dill rattled on, as he led them through the immense structure. It was eerily quiet and dead. The structural beams shone as they caught light. Rust never found their shining surfaces.

They walked through, the decompressed living spaces still had some of the last owners’ effects floating around. They moved through, up to the control office, that looked across the yard. The cylindrical dock rested in the middle, it’s skeletal beams wrapping around nothing. To the right, there was the smelter, then factory next to the living quarters. The freighter docking points were there to offload resources. The power plants were also housed there. To the left of the living quarters and command center, there was the shuttle landing pads.

Mark pulled a power supply from his pocket.

“Mind if I boot up some of these computers?” Mark asked, as he looked to the command deck.

“Go right ahead, I believe there is an external power port around here somewhere,” Dill said.

Jerome moved to a console, opening a panel. “Yup, here it is.”

Mark moved to it, and plugged in the battery. The kids milled around the windows, taking everything in.

The electronics powered up in vacuum silence, and their screens lit up Mark’s helmet as he bent over the main table that depicted the entire station. Jerome joined him. Costa looked over the kids.

Mark opened up a private channel with Jerome.

“Are those what I think they are?” Mark asked, as he pointed to several symbols at the side of the table. Jerome looked to make sure that Dill wasn’t too interested in what they were doing. He pulled the map down, and looked at the symbols.

“Well shit, looks like they were trying to build a second much larger berth, plus…” He slid the map again in another direction.

“They had all of these miners and refiners,” Jerome whistled in his helmet. Mark pushed the map back to focus on the station.

“Dill, what is the power plant situation?” Mark asked.

“There are five reactors listed for this site. They will get a full evaluation before start-up and be refueled for you by the Enerport corporation, free of charge with the sale,” Dill rattled off like a good sales rep, complete with a brilliant smile.

“Damn, that’s pretty good, thanks!” Mark said, faking his excitement. He knew all too well that after the first charge, Enerport would be on them like white on rice.

He used his implants to connect to the computers, and opened up the logs for fuel consumption. The station didn’t have five reactors - it had eight for the added miners stuck to the asteroids. That’s what killed the last station.

He brought up the prices on refined materials. An idea was forming in his head.

“It’s going to take a year or two, but if we get this station, we can survive if we mine our damned hearts out for the first few years of operation and make just a single freighter. Then we use the freighter to transport the refined materials, get more revenue. We also get the already-made parts of the second yard attached. Use the mines to support our ships, then start selling them. I don’t know the numbers, but if we keep increasing mining so that we can support ourselves and keep selling the resources out, we should be set to build this thing up,” Mark said excitedly.

“You might have a plan there,” Jerome said.

“We still need to check out the other yards. That way, we can maybe get Dill to go down on the price,” Mark said.

“Ahh, I knew there was a sly slum dealer in there,” Jerome laughed. “Though, I think it might be best if we let Costa have a crack at it. He’s probably the best heckler I know.”

“Sounds like a plan to me,” Mark answered.

Chapter 6

Resolute station

Earth, Sol System

3/3206

Mark walked through Resolute station. The EMF’s troopers and personnel moved with purpose, or lounged around on their free time. He felt tension that he hadn’t realized was there as he walked to the cafeteria. Mark and Jerome arrived at the station first. Reclaimer’s equipment was getting changed out. It seemed that the higher-ups were throwing everything at the crew, and troopers, to see if they could make them better.

He and Jerome took their meal trays and headed to their seats. One stripe rested over a single dot on their arm. It signalled their rank as Master Corporals to whoever looked at them.

“It’s odd you know,” Mark said. His comment made Jerome look up from his food.

“What is?” Jerome asked.

“This feels normal now - more normal than being on Earth, and going through the slums and dust while wearing goggles and facemasks,” Mark said.

“That was what you wanted to say?” Jerome said. He looked irritated as he dug into his food with annoyed scoops.

“That’s what it’s supposed to be like, makes us want to stay. But after this, they’ll kick us out just like everyone else, just you watch. Then all we’ve got are the plans we just put into place,” Mark said, as he pointed to Jerome with a loaded spoon.

“You gonna eat that or pour it on the table?” Jerome asked.

Mark put it in his mouth, answering Jerome’s question.

They each had more than enough to think about as they ate. In two days’ time, Reclaimer would be brought back up to full carrier strength - filled with the men and women that would train to become the most elite clean-up crew the EMF had ever seen.

“You know that the implanters and the armorers have been given new gear?” Mark asked a few minutes later. His eyes slid over to Jerome before they continued to wander around the room.

“Yeah, you gonna shove more crap in yourself?” Jerome asked. His eyes made Mark look at him.

“Yeah, anything that gives me an edge and keeps me alive is worth every cred,” Mark said as Jerome sighed and rolled his eyes. He paused halfway through the motions as his eye caught something.

“Hmm, you’re not getting them just because you want to get a certain someone’s attention?” Jerome asked, an eyebrow quirked in interest as his eyes seemed to shine. A grin pulled up the corner of his mouth.

“Huh?” Mark asked, completely blindsided by the question.

Jerome didn’t answer, but rather turned his head and tilted his head at something behind Mark.

Mark turned and looked around for what Jerome was pointing out.

He saw Lucille who waved to him with a grin on her face. He returned the wave and grinned himself. She had just grabbed her meal tray, and was looking for a place to sit. She took the gesture as an invitation, and headed over.

Mark turned back to Jerome who looked like he was eating real beef. Mark hadn’t seen him this happy in a while.

“Sadist,” he said under his breath, as he got a wink from Jerome when Lucille reached the table.

“Hey Mark, mind if I take a seat?” she asked. Her dimples came out as she smiled.

“Please do,” Mark said with a smile. Lucille was a good looking girl. She was also always smiling, it seemed. It was a change from the company he normally kept. Technically, Tyler was still a damned ball of energy and mischief.

“This is Jerome, Jerome, Lucille Watabe,” Mark said, making the introductions. “We were just having a conversation about implants. I was trying to talk him into getting some, though he doesn’t like pain much and blood makes him weak at the knees.”

Mark gave a perfectly consolidating smile towards Jerome.

Jerome’s curious eyes quickly flickered back in his direction, and it was just fast enough that Lucille didn’t suspect a thing.

"Good to meet you, Mark's told me about you keeping him alive," Lucille said with a blinding smile.

“Only good things I hope,” Jerome smiled.

“Mostly,” She laughed as she cut into her synthesized meat.

“And for implants or augmentsyou just get knocked out. You’ll never see or hear a thing,” she said, as she turned to Mark with a smile. “It’s what I do to Mark. He and his brother are my biggest customers.” She smiled, as her eyes crinkled in amusement.

Mark saw the ‘I told you so’ eyes from Jerome, who was chewing on something.

“Yeah, but I want to be all human,” Jerome said, as his throat cleared.

“You can always take the implants out. Plus they’ll keep you alive. Living and breathing because of some machines is better than not in my opinion,” Lucille said, her tone light but serious.

Jerome waved his head in understanding, ending it with a shrug.

“Well I have reports to fill out. Seeing as Mark already did them all, I’ll let you two have your meal in peace as my human ass finds some way to survive with just my rudimentary systems,” Jerome said. He clearly aimed his jab at Mark, who grinned at the joking comment.

“Good to meet you Lucille. See you later,” Jerome said as he nodded goodbye, and shot Mark another look.

“Jerome’s nice, I’m happy he has your back,” Lucille said in a light tone. But Mark sensed something more in it.

No? Is she interested in me? Well then.

“What, don’t think I can’t look after myself?” Mark said with a playful smile.

“Oh, I know you can’t. I get to see your medical records,” she said, as she looked his body over.

“That has to be an abuse of medic personnel record-checking,” Mark said with a broadened smile.

“Not with the amount of times I’ve seen you. It’s like my daily reading material at this point,” she said, as she pursed her lips together and turned to Mark. She cocked her head to one side as her eyes sparkled.

Something made Mark forget about where he was, and the things he had seen. He couldn’t help but laugh and feel drawn to Lucille.

“Seems like you do know me inside and out,” Mark said, as he rested a hand on her arm.

“I know a little bit about a few things,” Lucille said as she ate, and smiled at Mark.

“Ahh, well we should work on that. There’s not much time to talk before you knock me out most times,” Mark said, in a mocked serious tone.

She smacked his arm playfully.

“Make me sound as if I take a club to your head!”

“Wouldn’t be the first time,” Mark said as he rubbed his head, pretending to find the area where he was hit.

“You better try to keep that noggin in better condition,” she said, as she pointed to his head seriously.

“You concerned about the state of my noggin now?” Mark said playfully.

She bit her lip, looked to the ceiling and shook her head.

“As a trained medical professional, yes I do care about your noggin.” Her eyes sparkled, the corners of her eyes tight.

“Why, I am touched by your concern Ms. Watabe,” Mark said.

Suddenly, he heard a ping on his implants. The ringer was set to one person.

“Looks like I’ve got to go. Cap-Major Nerva needs me,” Mark said, as he stood up and became all-business.

“Swing by sometime,” Lucille said. The statement was more of a cautious question.

“Well I have to make sure that all my implants are working, after all,” Mark said, as his playful smile returned. “See you later.”

Both of them shared a look before Mark pulled away.

Chapter 7

EMFC Reclaimer

Earth, Sol System

3/3206

Mark made his way through Reclaimer’s once confusing hallways. A glance to the codes on the walls led him to the Major’s office, deep in officer territory. His arm seemed like a fan from all the officer high-fives he gave out. If there was something he hated the most about the military, it was fucking saluting.

He caught sight of Tyler, and quickly caught up with him.

“What’s up?’ Tyler asked.

“I know as much as you,” Mark shrugged. Jerome was waiting outside Major Nerva’s quarters.

Jerome knocked on the door as the other two got close. Jerome stepped inside when it opened, and Mark and Tyler followed behind him.

Jerome was already waved away from a salute.

Nerva’s office was Spartan as ever. Most officers - especially those at the rank of Major, the last rank in the field - had a ‘love me wall.’ It showed off everything they did to become the great and powerful people they were.

Nerva had his armor on one rack, and his E-12 on his desk. His pistol was in parts on the table, which faced a view screen that was surrounded by couches.

He also had a smoking cigar on his desk. Everyone had their vices in the EMF, and smokable stimulants were a big thing.

Nerva looked at them. His whole face could have been cut from granite, with all the emotion it conveyed. It was considered an almost momentous occasion if someone could get him to smile. Mark didn’t think that he ever heard the man laugh.

Even Tyler was beginning to think that the man might not be capable of it.

That said, he was one of the best officers and person Mark ever served with. They had one another’s backs on a few occasions. The Captain-turned-Major showed that he was capable of moving more than one plan ahead at a time, but he always had a clear goal. He was going to finish his mission, and he was going to make sure that he got as many of his people back alive as possible.

Everyone in Reclaimer’s third force second division knew that. They trusted their Major implicitly - something that was rarer than platinum in the EMF.

“You three have been accelerated through the ranks at a hellish rate. A fact that is going to make issues in your new chain of commands,” Nerva said, as he looked to them all. His icy blue eyes made sure they heard his words. “I want our Division to be the best in all of Reclaimer. To do that, I am going to need you three and all of the veterans of Second regiment to show what we do. You three are carrying my name, and the name of the regiment. You fuck up, you make us all look bad, got it?”

“Yes sir!” they chorused.

“Good. You’re going to have to show why you’re Master Corporal material. Mark, I don’t want anyone in the infirmary,” Nerva said. Mark looked unrepentant. If anyone came wanting a fight, they would find one some people from the slums didn’t learn unless there was violence.

“For too long,” Nerva amended.

“I’ll try, sir,” Mark said. There were a few people Mark would never lie to. The three other men in that room were some of those few people.

“You’ll be meeting your sections tonight. Get to know them, and work with them. Most have done more drops than you. Some will have things worth listening to. Others won’t listen to you. See that they do. Having people under your command that won’t listen to you is like carrying a grenade in your back pocket with the primer ready. You’re just waiting for a jolt to go off,” Nerva said, as he sat back in his chair. “Use that anger, direct it towards our enemies and show that you’re worth their loyalty.”

Chapter 8

EMFC Reclaimer

Earth, Sol System

4/3206

Jerome looked up from his book as the first person walked into his three-person section pod. The other nine berths were empty. Their occupants either didn’t make it back from Sacremon, or they were shuffled across the ship to try and get at least a few bodies in each section pod.

They were utilitarian and bland, but they were a home that Jerome never found back on Earth.

“How’s it going?” Jerome asked the Corporal that walked into the pod.

“Not bad. This second div, two-alpha-two-three?” he said, referring to Second division, second regiment, Alpha company, second Platoon Three section. He looked at the spare bunks, looked less than pleased with his new assignment. His nametape said Dushresznikov.

“Yup,” Jerome said, as others came in the room.

“Hey Dooks, you in two-three?” said another corporal, who came into the room. Her nametape read Rudkin.

“Hey Rud, don’t tell me you’re in here too.”

“Embrace the suck,” Rudkin’s voice flat as they tapped fists.

Jerome watched them briefly. As they bantered, he went back to reading his book.

Qi and Alvarez glanced at the newcomers and kept to their game. They were good troopers, but like everyone from Sacremon, they liked the company of fellow Sacremon veterans over all else.

In the past, Jerome played a few games with them and went over stories. Qi was a boot, and now he was a corporal. Alvarez was a private, and went to Corporal. He was offered a Master Corporal position, but he didn’t go for it. He was happy being a Corporal for his term.

Three more piled in short order.

Dell, Connolly and Cai came in and found their places. They started to pull their gear from their duffels, and stuffed them in their lockers.

Sergeant Reyes walked in. He had more olive to his tan, an angry eyebrow, and the stature of a boxer. He dropped his gear on his bed.

“Come with me,” he said through gritted teeth, as he flashed an angry look to Jerome.

Qi and Alvarez looked up from their game. Jerome gave them a slight negative tilt of his head. They didn’t serve in the same area of Sacremon, except for Processing. It was a large city, but they all went through a similar hell. There was still a bond with them, one he couldn’t explain that was summed up in that look.

They had his back, no matter what.

He walked into the showers, as he followed Sergeant Reyes.

“Close the door.” Jerome could feel the anger that Sergeant Reyes was keeping at bay.

Fuck, I don’t want to go through this, Jerome thought, closing the door.

“Alright, let me get one damned fucking thing straight. I don’t care who the fuck you are or the Major’s ass you kissed to get your damned position. I will only have people in positions of power if they deserve it. Sure you’ll be called Master Corporal, but I will find someone to actually take the position so we don’t all die like your last section,” Reyes snarled.

Jerome’s face twisted in anger.

“Serg…”

“Do I make myself perfectly fucking clear,” Reyes cut off Jerome, as he got in his face.

Jerome kept his fists at his side. “You want to punch me you little shit? Go for it. Make my job easier by just getting you out of my section.”

Reyes’ eyes seemed to glimmer with anticipation as he pushed his jaw out. “Right here c’mon, one shot.”

“Not worth it, and I earned this position. You get in my way Sergeant or do anything that puts our people at risk. Well, I know some people that are very good at organizing accidents,” Jerome said. As he spoke, he allowed the face of someone that killed - and did it well - to rise to the surface.  If pushed, this person was just the right kind of crazy to do it. It wasn’t far from the truth.

“Why I -”

“I earn…”

“I’m fucking talking,” Reyes said, as he slapped Jerome.

Jerome took the hit, and his anger rose.

Jerome pushed his anger down, and turned to remove himself from the situation.

Reyes went on about how Jerome should stay at attention. Jerome knew that if he was stuck in the room anymore, he would do something he regretted.

Reyes tried to pull Jerome back. Jerome was a lot stronger and more augmented. Reyes nearly fell over as Jerome left the room, and entered the section’s barracks.

All of the troopers looked at Jerome as he entered. It seemed that they heard Reyes’ yelling.

“Welcome to Alpha Company, Second platoon, third section. Get a bunk, stow your shit, the Major will brief us at dinner. Tomorrow we start training. My name is Master Corporal Jerome. I dropped onto Sacremon as a boot with these two,” Jerome pointed to Qi and Alvarez, who looked over the rest of the room with cool stares. Their eyes rested on Reyes.

“Yes, that is all very nice, Master Corporal,” Reyes said with a laugh on his lips, as if Jerome’s rank was laughable. The other corporals and privates in the room looked at their section commanders with confusion.

“Sorry Sergeant, I’m not finished,” Jerome said politely to Reyes, who didn’t say anything but clamp his lips together into an angry white line. “We landed on Sacremon with a full carrier, twenty-six thousand made it off alive. This ship and its crew are no longer looking to make the Bare Minimum. The EMF has picked us for a new training program. We’re going to be in the hottest damned drops the EMF can find for us. Over the next few months, we’re going to train harder than we have ever been trained in our entire lives. This training will save our lives if we listen to it. If we don’t, then we’re all going to be as fucked as a sleeper ship ramming into a star.”

Jerome looked over the people in the room. The clearly hostile relationship between their two main leaders, and what he just said, left an awkward feeling in the room. They didn’t know how to respond.

“Sergeant, did you have anything to say?” Jerome asked Reyes.

“No, be ready for the briefing,” Reyes said, a troubled look in his eyes now as he wandered out of the barracks.

“Fucking Reyes,” said Dooks, as he cursed his bad luck.

“What’s wrong?” Jerome asked.

Dooks back tracked.

“Nothing, Master Corporal,” he said.

“I ain’t gonna get you in shit, just tell me about him,” Jerome pressed.

“He stays in the rear with the gear, sending his people out to the front while he finds perfectly good excuses to stay safe. He buddied up with officers, and they got him his current rank. He was bucking for warrant when this gig came up. The officers thought that he was a good troop, and must have sent him on this. He’s probably pissed that he’s going to have to be a real trooper now.” Dooks shook his head. His blue eyes were sharp with intelligence - intelligence that Jerome felt was angled towards jokes more than anything useful.

“I heard about Sacremon, say it’s the worst battle in seven decades. Also restricted the shit out of the live feeds. Probably didn’t want to show us how bad it was before getting us over here. How bad was it?”

“The stuff of nightmares,” Jerome said, as he remembered the towers of Sacremon, and the constant fighting to push back the colonists who kept pushing on with near-fanatical determination.

“You want to see Sacremon, I’ve got some of the live feeds,” Alvarez said, as he pulled out a storage cube.

A few took him up on the offer.

Jerome settled back onto his bed, and wanted to send the recording of Reyes’ actions to Tyler. If he sent it to Mark, then Reyes would probably be stuffed out of an airlock within the hour.

Maybe later.

***

Mark looked over Sergeant Haas as he walked into his pod.

Sergeant Quiv Haas was about five-foot-five. All his height seemed to go into his bulky width. He had a tanned complexion, with hair barely bristled on his scalp and thick eye brows. His face and hands were leathery from hard work.

His eyes thinned and his brow furrowed as he looked at Mark. He flicked to his rank tab, and back to his face.

Even though he was five-foot-five, that expression made Mark’s spine do everything it could to get just a bit taller and straighter.

“Sergeant, I’m Master Corporal Mark,” he said, as he held his hand out to the Sergeant. The Sargeant’s brows came together at something he found odd in Mark’s words.

“Don’t use your last name Victor?” Haas asked, as he gave him a firm handshake.

“Ahh, well my brother has the same last name and the same rank. We’ve used our first names since basic so there isn’t any confusion. Plus he’s in two section,” Mark said.

“Yes, that would get rather confusing,” Haas said. “You know what’s going on?”

“Got a meeting with the Major at dinner and training will start tomorrow,” Mark said.

“That’s going to be annoying,” Haas said, as he dropped his bag onto a bunk.

“The Major won’t care if we’re eating or not, as long as we’re listening,” Mark shrugged.

“What’s he like?” Haas said seriously. He wanted to gauge Mark’s reaction on Nerva to make an initial judgement.

“He’s a good officer, leads from the front unlike most. He kept a lot of us alive on Sacremon, even in an NR situation,” Mark said. His face tightened as he remembered how it felt to be told that no reinforcements were coming. They didn’t come until the city was cleared enough to allow them to be safely inserted.

Haas nodded. His approval or disapproval wasn’t clear. But he understood.

“Well we’d best get there a bit early so we’re not stuck in a damned line for a few hours,” Haas said with a raised voice, so the rest of the section could hear him. “Get your shit stowed, or at least in the lockers, within ten minutes.”

Haas looked around.

“Yes, Sergeant,” the calls came back. They weren’t the scared shouts of recruits, but rather the respectful understanding of veterans.

Haas looked to unpack his bag, and Mark went back to lying on his rack.

When you can sit, sit, lie down, lie down, sleep, sleep. The age-old mantra went through his head, as he used his implants and the interactive paper to flick through his latest reading material that Nerva recommended.

“You on Sacremon?” Haas asked, just as his last page appeared above him.

“Yes, Sergeant,” Mark said, as he closed his hand. He tossed it sideways, removing the book from his view as he sat up.

“What wave?” Haas said, as he pulled things out of his duffel and slid them into his locker.

“First, on Growing City,” Mark said. He wasn’t able to keep his brow from pulling together in memory.

Haas looked around, and some kind of mental tally moved behind his eyes.

Thankfully, he left the subject alone after that.

Mark couldn’t get back to his book, and thought of Growing City and Sacremon again. He laid back on his bed. He didn’t need to turn his implants on as memories shifted.

He saw the faces of the rest of his section that were left on Sacremon in unmarked graves, so that the settlers wouldn’t screw with the troopers that were laid to rest.

People moved to the doorway. Mark got to his feet, and followed them. There were only three types of layouts for the carriers in Earth’s Military Forces. The changes to the areas, which the troopers operated in, were the same in all three variants.

Everyone knew where the mess hall was.

Mark tilted, flicked his fingers, or grinned to greet other original members of Reclaimer in passing.

Trays were grabbed, and food was slapped, poured, dropped and heaped onto them as troopers, medics, and techs filed through and took seats.

Haas led the section to their assigned table. Everyone slotted into seats, and made chit chat. They tried to get to know the people who, ultimately, would have their lives in their hands.

Nerva and a group of Captains sat at their own table. They ate, talked, and did the exact same thing as everyone else in the room.

“You got any augments?” Cpl Dominguez asked Mark, as he grabbed his spoon.

“Yep, why you ask?” Mark asked, curious rather than annoyed. A lot of people were freaked out by augments, but not Dominguez.

Dominguez wasn’t the tallest or prettiest girl. She was almost as tanned as Jerome, and had a build that reminded Mark of his good friend.

Definitely a fighter, Mark thought, as his eyes slid to her hands, arms and back to her face - which looked like it was put back in the correct order, unlike Jerome’s.

“No offense meant. I’ve got four, myself,” she said. She took his glances to mean he was sizing her up for a fight. “I heard that higher is opening up the really good ones?”

Her eyes held his in question.

“I heard the same. I’m hoping they have the new sixth sense,” Mark said with a grin. It defused any possible tension, and she grinned with relief and happiness to know that she found someone with the same interests as her.

“They might be doing the medical assists as well,” she said, as she dumped in a mouthful of food.

“I got one of those, fifth gen,” Mark said, as he tapped where the implant Richter gave him resided.

“Wah, ‘ow?” Dominguez asked through a mouthful of food.

“Don’t mind her, Master Corporal. She usually doesn’t try to cover you with her food all the time,” Private Ko said. He had long brown hair, odd purple eyes, and a companionable smile on his face.

Dominguez rolled her eyes, and her cheeks pulled back in a smile as she made sure to chew her food.

“We aren’t all Southern complex pretty boys with dainty manners,” Dominguez shot back as soon as she could.

The others watched the good-natured byplay with interest.

“Well, just having some manners might do Westerly complex some good,” Ko said with a smile that made Mark’s own cheeks tighten.

Before they could continue, there was a loud banging from Nerva’s table. The Major stood in the middle of the mess, rather than take the podium that was usually reserved for higher-ups who wanted to make speeches.

“We’re here to become the EMF’s best damned sledge hammer. We’re going to train until we make Spartans look down on us in respect. We’re going to be put in some shitty spots, so don’t slack off. You do and then you, or the person next to you, will be staying on whatever planet we are sent to. Yes, we are all going to get a pay increase, but that is only if all of you meet the standards that I set. You don’t make the cut, then I will drop you faster than a Kinetic Energy Weapon hammering a colony. Others will take your place, you will lose the pay and have a mark on your record.”

A mark on a person’s record was enough of a reason to get them kicked out well before they got to their retirement age.

Mark saw the faces harden around the room, as the same thought passed through their minds in the few moments Nerva looked around.

“This was not my recommendation, but I will not hesitate to get you the hell off of Reclaimer - for not only your health, but the health of your section.”

Again, he let those words settle in the troopers’ minds around him.

“Look after one another, and train like your lives depend on it. They will. I’ll be seeing you throughout training.” With that, Nerva took a seat and people began to talk again after a few seconds. It didn’t quite rise to its boisterous levels of before.

“A mark if we don’t make the cut, damn that’s harsh,” Corporal Tal said.

“All the more reason to make sure that we train like the devil himself was chasing us,” Sergeant Haas said. Officially, Earth and her Colonies were non-religious. Religion hurt the bottom line. It generally pissed off corporations because it caused bickering, and reinforced archaic thoughts.

Happy workers not fighting over religion was a better working atmosphere. Every thing came down to cost and benefit ratios.

Even with religion officially dead, someone that was around death so much always found a few religious sayings or sent silent plea bargains to a few idols.

A message pinged on Mark’s implants. He pulled out smart paper, and put it on the table as he ate.

Haas did the same. Both of them read with one eye as they put food in their faces. The rest of the table quieted down, as their leaders finished their reading and looked to one another.

Mark shrugged a shoulder and opened his hand, emphasizing ‘well it could be worse.’

Haas nodded, clearing his throat.

“Alright, we’ve got fifteen minutes before we’re due in medical. Then we’re over to the armory to get suited, booted and make sure everything is good to go. Then we’re on Resolute’s training grounds for the next week,” Sergeant Haas said, which was met with groans.

“What are we doing in Resolute’s training grounds for a week?” Cpl Harris asked her epithanic folds, thinned in curiosity over her blue eyes which contrasted against her lightly tanned skin and black hair.

“We’re going to be fighting the best troopers from EMFC Educator,” Sergeant Haas said.

“Awesome,” Dominguez sighed, tossing food back.

Mark’s eyes flickered over the mess and settled on Tyler, who was talking to his Sergeant Alvarez. She was built like a runner. Her blonde hair was cut shorter than Tyler’s,  and her back was ramrod straight.

Mark turned back to his paper. His implants were second-nature to him, now that he set the movements.

He looked at Lucille’s message. She sent him a list of items that might interest him. He caught sight of optical implants – which allowed him to operate his implants without the use of his helmet or smart paper.

I honestly don’t know why they didn’t have something like this before.

He placed an order for them, and looked to Dominguez.

“Looks like they have optical augments that allow you to use your HUD without your helmet or paper,” he said.

“Put me in for a pair of those. Who’s your implanter?” Haas asked.

“Lucille, sending contact info,” Mark said. His hand and fingers moved quickly for a half-second, and finished with a pushing motion towards Haas.

“Got it,” he said, as one if his hands moved. He returned to eating.

***

“So tell me about Mark Victor.” Lucille said, curled up in the crook of his arm as they sat in one of the observation lounges, looking at Earth.

“What’s there to tell?” Mark smiled looking at her.

“You always try to avoid making yourself seem anything less than the perfect trooper, why?” She asked.

“I’m not perfect by any means,” Mark sighed, looking to Earth.

“So tell me about you, I want to know,” She said.

Mark thought about saying some flippant, trying to throw her off of her line of questioning. He looked at her and her curious eyes.

She smiled and touched his face. There was comfort in those eyes and Mark felt his own heart start beating faster being around her.

He smiled and then sighed.

“Tyler and I are orphans. We’re brothers, but we didn’t start out that way. I first met Tyler when he was getting beaten up in a closet because the other kids saw he was different and picked on him. As you know Tyler and I are taller than average. People said that we were kicked out of the towers and all kids of shit. Kids are pretty vicious,” Mark said, his eyes unfocusing as Lucille just sat there, waiting and listening.

“I stepped in, gave those kids a good ass kicking. Tyler helped me out, I’d charged in head first and I nearly ended up on the floor with him. At first I shook off his thanks and went our separate ways,” Mark laughed.

“Though we got into too many fights and at one time liked the same girl, that was *interesting*.”

Lucille poked him, her eyes thinning as she frowned.

Mark kissed her, getting her smile back.

“She didn’t go for any of us and she got her boyfriend to beat up the two Tower Trash. That was the worst beating I had ever been given as a kid. Tyler as well,” Mark rubbed a scar on his ribs absently.

“So what, did you become brothers then?” She asked.

“We were like seven at the time. We didn’t know what the hell was going on. Though we made sure that we were sent to the same places. We looked out for one another. After that beating we started training, doing everything we could to get bigger, stronger and learn how to fight other kids. Gave one another a few scars just from toussling. When we were eight people no longer screwed with us. We were given space. It was the day before we were to pick our last names when we decided to call ourselves Victors,” Mark shook his head.

“What?”

“We were so punch drunk from fighting one another that we were just spouting random crap. The next day we were both tired as hell, when they asked me for my last name I gave Victor without thinking. Tyler heard and copied. Big Ole fluke, but it was sealed, we were brothers.”

“Classy,” Lucille laughed,

“Maybe not classy, but the best mistake I’ve made so far,” Mark smiled.

“So what about afterwards?”

Mark took a moment before continuing. “We turned eight and we were taller than most kids that were eleven. Even the adults in the orphanage started taking interest,” Mark’s face turned cold and hard. “They might be working for the government but they were from the slums. Everyone *hates *people from the towers. I found Tyler beaten up in the study room, one of the adults had turned their head and let it happen. From then on we fought *anyone *that came at us. The kids, we could handle. Adults? They had batons and a lifetime of hate.”

“What happened?” Lucille asked softly.

“We had to escape, to get free of it all. Out in the slums wearing a mask and goggles, your anonymous. We wanted to be anonymous. Tyler and I planned for months before escaping. We ran into four slavers. Our freedom was about to get cut short when Quentin Richter, the leader of the Westerly Three Complex Crew helped us. He gave us weapons and told us to come and see him for a job if we wanted it,” Mark shook his head and looked at Lucille. “Tyler wanted to go right away. Took him a few months to convince me.”

“So you were part of the Westerly Three Complex Crew at nine?” Lucille asked.

“Yeah, they trained me up, Richter had been a trooper with Nerva. I went from being able to beat people a few years older than me, to those that were twice my age. Tyler was a damn good shot. We found a home among the enforcers and killers of the crew,” Mark said.

“Wow, you must care a lot for Tyler,” Lucille said.

“Well he is my brother, even if it was a fluke at the start of it all,” Mark smiled.

Lucille hugged him.

“What’s this for?” Mark asked, wrapping his arms around her.

She pulled back a bit, her eyes watery.

“You’ve had such a hard life already and you’re just going to go charging into fight after fight while your here. It scares me that you won’t be coming back,” She said.

“Come here babe, I’ll do everything in my power to come back to you, if you want me to,” Mark said, pulling her to him.

“You better,” She said, her voice shaky with emotion.

Mark kissed the top of her head as she pulled him tight.

After a few minutes she reached up and kissed him.

“That’s the first time you’ve said that,” She said with a smile, wiping her eyes.

“What?”

“Babe,” Lucille kissed Mark. “I like it.”

Chapter 9

Tower

Earth, Sol System

5/3206

Dalia rushed in Nivad’s office, and kicked the door shut as she flicked items from her paper onto the various view screens.

The view of mega city fell away as the windows automatically polarized.

Nivad’s eyes flicked to the view screen. One showed a space map. One system was highlighted in red, and the other showed a report from Masoul Prime.

“We just got a report from our person on Masoul. It looks like they’re going to blow up the cryopod bunkers. They also seem confident that they are going to be able to damage Strike station,” Dalia said.

Nivad would have killed most others on the spot for charging into his office.

Instead, his mind worked with the problem in front of him. He looked to balance the universe - now someone was messing with his games, and throwing everything into chaos.

“What else?” Nivad asked. He made sure he knew everything before he acted.

“They reported that the religious group was much more extensive than they first thought. They think that the group is linked to other systems. They have weaponry that he would have found if it was actually made on the planet. He also reports that they expect ‘tools’ to help with their rebellion on an incoming freighter,” Dalia said, as she looked up from her surface.

“Activate our agents. I want to know more about this group, and which other systems they might come from. Trace the freighter, and see if you can see where they’re making weapons,” Nivad said, as his face tightened and he clasped his hands together. Anger rippled through him, honest-to-god anger. He hadn’t felt it in ages. He felt its seduction to cause pain, and wreak havoc.

He restrained his emotions, and knew how it would feel once he crushed Masoul and all those that tried to go against him.

“Have the Carrier Fearless leave port. Every hour, I want another carrier to act as if they are moving to another system. We’ll say that they’re on a training exercise. Write something up to the affect, and make it look like we’ve been planning this for months. I’m guessing that there is no way to stop them from blowing up the bunkers,” Nivad said as he looked to Dalia, who gave him a terse nod.

“Very well, draft a letter to the Masoul partnership. Also, pull up our old files on colonization. We best have a group of people from somewhere ready to fill their positions. Masoul keeps the sphere flying. Removing it will bring instability to the rest of the sphere. I want to have the latest numbers on the EMF’s refueling stations,” Nivad said. He wanted to prepare for every eventuality. The refuelling stations’ locations were top secret. They were only used in emergencies. It spoke to the trust Nivad had in Dalia’s assessment to go that far. The stations were only used if the normal fueling systems were in revolt.

He saw a flash of fear in Dalia’s eyes. The chaos that would be brought on with Masoul’s revolt was palpable.

“I will see to it,” she said. Her fear was replaced again with her neutral look of professional spymaster.

“Do keep me updated if anything else happens.”

“Of course, sir,” she said, as she bowed her head slightly to Nivad before she rushed out of the room.

Chapter 10

Landing City

Masoul Actual, Masoul System

5/3206

Moretti had never taken any chances. When he joined the defenders of Harmony, he didn’t pull in any of his agents to back him up. Instead, he found the kind of people that would be swayed by this kind of crap. Anyone above and below him thought he was just another mindless fuck that could be of use to the cause. He pulled people together for that fact.

They were all Chosen - the fighters that upheld Harmony’s edicts.

He laughed with his people as he clicked the detonator. The towers rumbled as the cryo bunkers were turned into nothingness.

Inside, Moretti winced with every shake. He didn’t care about the innocents that would be swept up in this fight. While he was an operative for Nivad, his cover was a middling corporation officer. He knew what kind of effect blowing up the bunkers would have on the system, and conglomerate, that owned it. The whole sphere could be thrown into chaos. Freighter fuel kept the universe moving. If fuel freighters stopped travelling, it would take a few years to hit. But the rest of the sphere would feel the pinch for a number of years.

They would turn to manufacturing their own fuel, or to importing it at an increased cost. That kind of economics would change the entire EHC economy.

He looked over the news channels. The others bragged and yelled in the warehouse.

The news people were going over the explosions. Everyone was in a panic, and people were confused as to why the bunkers were targeted.

A few news reporters were spouting Harmony lines. Moretti had no idea that the religion went that far.

It was meaningless. Dalia heard his report. Fearless was moving away from Strike Station. He could see it on the inter-system network.

“Holy fuck!” he said.

“What is it, boss?” one of the others looked over and asked.

“They just blew up Strike station!” Moretti said. He forgot who he was supposed to be for a second.

Others crowded around, and took his fear for shock.

He replayed the scene, and the others’ yells came out even louder than before. Flame came from the center of the station, and spread out in a ripple. The corridors served to focus the blast, and opened right into the hulls of the connected EMF carriers.

The station’s fire was gone as soon as it started. It fell apart, and started turning. The carriers attached to it were lifeless hulks, ripped into thousands of pieces.

Fearless moved out of its port twelve minutes ago. The corridor it had been attached to blew out with fire and debris, into the unarmored side of the hull.

It vented atmosphere, and its engines were dead as it went ballistic.

Harmony just killed nearly seven hundred thousand EMF personnel.

Chapter 11

Tower

Earth, Sol System

5/3206

Nivad watched the same scene as Moretti. He looked on with cool indifference. His plans were disrupted, and he would have his revenge. But it was time to put his back-up plan into motion.

“If the carrier Fearless is capable of it, I want them to get their people in cryo. I want all shipping to Masoul cancelled immediately. Fearless and Reclaimer are to meet up and be ready for operations in Masoul,” Nivad said.

“Yes, sir,” Dalia said, as she tapped out orders on her surface.

Chapter 12

EMFC Reclaimer

Earth, Sol System

5/3206

It didn’t take Mark long to find out what was going on in Masoul.

He didn’t really believe everything. When Nerva said something happened in Masoul and they were leaving, everything moved faster than he thought possible.

That fell away with the shock of seeing Strike Station get devoured in flames and destruction. Four carriers were destroyed outright, and Fearless looked like it was barely functional.

Mark sent it to the others in his section.

He felt numb as he kept going through the information. He couldn’t believe it. Sure, Nerva told them – but it was much different when he saw the results. It brought reality to Nerva’s words.

There was a video of someone who sat behind a desk and wore a nondescript workers suit, with rags that covered the person’s face.

“Hello, I have been given the honor of addressing you, the people. I speak to you as a member of Harmony. Harmony seeks to bring about equality to people. We will take the people’s power back from those that have been swayed by greed. We have killed the sons and daughters of this greed, the bastards of the EMF. Harmony is a way of life - it is not just an ideal. Join us in our fight for Harmony. Together my brothers and sisters, we will remove the scourge of the companies and cleanse the Earth. We will adopt Harmony and dispose of those that are tainted by greed.”

With that, the channel ended.

There was no confusion to his feelings now. Those troopers could have been him, or his section. They were from Earth. They were people just trying to get away from the shit of the slums. They didn’t deserve to be slaughtered like that, not for some religious fuck that just wanted to replace one system with another.

Mark didn’t care about the reasoning. He knew two things. If the cryo-pods were blown, it would mean more combatants when Reclaimer got there. It also meant Harmony didn’t care about people that didn’t agree with them. That could be because they were so confident in their position, or because they wanted examples to keep everyone in line – just like the inquisition kept people in line during the Middle Ages.

Learning history, especially military history, gave Mark a skewed look into others’ actions. This knowledge helped him see a potential threat from many different ways. Tactics changed. But people, their motivations, and their depravity didn’t.

Training for the day ended abruptly.

The troopers’ simulated shuttles opened their cargo ramp.

“Alright, get your gear stowed. Everyone grab a shower and some food. We should be getting a briefing soon. Sergeants, see to your people,” Lieutenant Kim said.

They walked across the deck, and got to the massive armored doors that led to the armories and elevators beyond.

The entire platoon moved past their fellow troopers who saw the videos and messages for themselves. Everyone either looked angry or scared.

They helped one another get out of the armor, ammunition packs and harnesses.

“That everyone?” Mark asked his section, as they removed their armor, weapons and ammo.

“Yup,” Tyler said, as he came out of the rearmost armory racks.

“Alright, you’re on your own time as far as I’m concerned. I would suggest a shower. Also keep your ears out for the meeting. Has everyone checked out the data package Nerva sent out?” he asked, as his voice changed from droll to tense.

The others nodded, and their eyes were hooded. There was confusion and questions behind those eyes, yet they knew one thing - no one killed EMF troopers and got away with it. Whether they knew the trooper or not.

“We can assume that we’re going to be in the middle of that mess. Nerva will have more for us,” Mark said, as he looked to them and saw understanding faces. “Dismissed.” Mark waited for them to get into motion before he headed for the bank of elevators that criss-crossed the carrier. He headed for one that would take him to his quarters.

“I’m gonna go see Alexis,” Tyler said.

“See you later,” Mark replied as he waved him off. Tyler disappeared into the mass of ambling troopers. Jerome appeared out from it.

“Smokes on the observatory?” Jerome asked.

“Yeah, gonna grab a shower quick,” Mark said. His pace didn’t slow as he got onto the elevator.

“You should, I can smell you even over my own stank!’ Jerome said as he joined Mark on the elevator, with a half-laugh that didn’t reach his eyes. He saw the same recording as Mark. This didn’t look like a battle that the EMF fought in their lifetime.

“Did you see the thing about Harmony?” Jerome asked, his voice quiet as they moved to the rear of the elevator.

“The video?”

“No their doctrine,” Jerome said.

“No,” Mark answered, and looked for Jerome to fill in the blanks for him.

“Looks like the rules cooked up in the crusades, and every other religious war. It’s going to get messy,” Jerome said.

“When isn’t it?” Mark sighed.

They got to their deck, and separated to shower. Mark got a new set of smart clothes on, and wandered over to Jerome’s section barracks.

“You good to go?” Mark asked as Jerome threw his shirt on, and pulled it into place. The shirt moved together, and arranged itself on his frame.

‘Yeah, lead on,” Jerome said. Mark pulled a cigar from his chest pocket, and handed one to Jerome while he grabbed another.

“Thanks.” Jerome struck it alight on his pants, puffing on the concoction. New cigars didn’t give off the smoke smell that coated everything. Instead, they only activated when they came into contact with saliva. A simple drink of water would wash even that taste away.

Mark lit his, and the smell of strawberries filled the corridor. The scented cigars didn’t have the same system. After all, who didn’t like strawberries?

They greeted those they knew, and wandered past others they didn’t. Salutes were almost automatic, as they got to the armored glass of the observation room.

Mark sank into a chair, and felt the tension draw away from his body as he looked down on Earth.

It didn’t disappear. Troopers traditionally got time off between planet drops, and went to either Earth or Masoul. It allowed them time to decompress, and get their affairs in order. Mark was working since he got to Earth, and they were already back to training and off to a new battle.

It looks like they’ve got some damned planning behind them with the way they took out the station and the cryo-pod bunkers.

“What are you thinking?” Jerome asked. He didn’t look at Mark. He couldn’t sense his friend’s thoughts.

“How this doesn’t look to be just some start-up rebellion. This had planning. Planning that isn’t making me happy with our chances. Especially in a system as developed as Masoul,” Mark said, his eyes dark.

“Then we’re going to have to try and mitigate those chances. I’ve already asked the techs to change the simulated decks over. It’s going to take some work, but they’ve brought it up to higher. We’ll get something to practice on before we get there. With our higher pay, hopefully most of our troopers will want to stay awake and train instead of sleep,” Jerome said.

“Yeah, but there are twelve million people in Masoul right now. We both know that number is only going to grow while we sleep,” Mark said.

“When we link up with Fearless then we’ll be two hundred troopers strong,” Jerome said.

“Yes, if we link up with Fearless,” Mark said. “If they can keep the ship alive.”

Mark and Jerome’s eyes met.

“We both saw how she was looking after that blast to her unarmored side,” Mark reminded him.

Jerome grunted and sank back into his chair. He put the cigar back in his mouth.

They stewed in their own thoughts for a while. Nerva’s summons brought them out of those thoughts, and to their feet.

“Mess, ten minutes,” Mark said, reading it out loud.

“Yep, let’s see what else he’s found out,” Jerome said, as they turned their backs on Earth.

***

Tyler slumped into a seat beside Mark. Jerome was on the other side, but deep into his paper work. Mark helped where he could, but he had his own paperwork to get through. Holm grabbed a round for everyone. Alexis and Lucille were there, having drinks and girl talk.

Alexis caught Tyler’s eye and waved to him. He smiled and waved back, as his headrest moved.

“Hey! I’m leaning here!” he said, as his brother looked to him with an almost exasperated look.

“Yeah I can feel your boney-ass shoulder in my arm,” he said, as he shifed again to annoy Tyler.

Tyler exhaled violently, but he was too tired to do anything about it. He had just been training on the sand planet, Ashkal.

Tyler thought it was the best kind of training. He knew how hard it was to run in sand. Fighting in it would be even shittier.Holm got to the booth, and slid in on the opposite side. He pinned Jerome to the rear.

Tyler grabbed the beer from his reclined position, and took a deep gulp. He let out a sigh, as the cold liquid made its way to his stomach.

“Thanks Holm,” Mark said, as he accepted a beer and raised it in thanks.

“No worries, I’m happy to just watch you three get through the miles of paperwork that I don’t have to do anymore,” Holm said happily. Jerome shot him a dirty look.

“Tyler, make sure that you’re near my drop point wherever we’re going. I’m stealing him as my second,” Jerome threatened.

“I’ll do my best,” Tyler grinned, as he looked over to Holm who rolled his eyes before he slouched into the couch.

“You hear something from up high?” Mark asked, as he sat back and shifted Tyler’s pillow.

“Seems that something’s coming down the pipe, and it’s causing some confusion,” Jerome said, as he looked up from his papers. “I don’t know where it is, but I know we’ll be hearing something about it soon enough.” He grabbed his beer and took a large gulp.

“I was talking to some of my old crew from Dominator. It looks like their mission was pulled when Reclaimer got back in system. Though, no one was given the new mission. Maybe we got it?” Holm said, as he looked to the others.

“We’ll find out when we find out,” Mark said. His age-old wisdom reminded him to not give a fuck until it affected him.

Alexis wandered over and Lucille went off to her shift. She waved goodbye to Mark. They were definitely an item, like Tyler and Alexis.

“Friggin Victors,” Jerome sighed, as he took another swig of beer and got into his paperwork once again.

“Hey babe,” Tyler said, as he moved for her to sit down. He twisted himself around so he could lay in her lap.

Mark had to shift down as Tyler’s boots poked his side.

The table shuffled around as Alexis looked down at his head that rested in her lap.

“That’s not nice,” she said, her eyes thinning.

“They’re used to it by now,” Tyler grinned.

Alexis shook her head, unable to hide her smile as one of her hands played through his hair. The other snagged his beer from the table, and gave it a big swig.

“Hey!” Tyler said, as he reached for the beer. Everyone else laughed as Alexis tried to sneak in a few more gulps from the mug.

“Briefing in two hours, all personnel are to report to their designated briefing areas,” the ship’s communications officer blared through to the entire ship. The message was repeated two more times.

A message pinged on everyone’s implants. They got the new optical implants, so they could access their HUD and implants at any time.

It was beyond Tyler why the optical implant wasn’t added to the standard implant suite. Though he, and everyone else, bet it was because the corporations just wanted to make more money off of the troopers. Especially when the implant was an extra thousand credits - the equivalent of ten days’ worth of field combat pay.

Everyone else around the table got it as well. Though, as Jerome was demonstrating, it was nice to have the paper’s tactile feedback once in a while.

“Looks like Captain Ortiz is calling a meeting in mess,” Mark said.

“Booyah! Don’t even have to move,” Tyler said, throwing a fist up in victory.

“Lazy,” Alexis accused him.

“Yup!” He was proud of the title.

“Is he always like that?” Holm asked

“Yes!” Everyone said as one.

“Well, let your real feelings out, why don’t you?” Tyler said. He crossed his arms as the others laughed. He couldn’t keep the act up for long, and joined in.

***

Jerome waved Rudkin over to the table as people started to gather for the meeting. Rudkin became his unofficial second in command.

“Everyone here?” Jerome asked Rudkin.

“Yeah,” Rudkin said simply.

“Good stuff, thanks,” Jerome said. “I guess I should introduce you to this lot. This is Mark, Alexis, that’s Holm and that lazy bastard is Tyler.” Jerome pointed to them as Mark and Alexis gave their own greetings. They returned to their conversation. Holm and Tyler were passed out on their bunks.

“Good to meet you,” Rudkin said as he looked at them.

There wasn’t time for anything else to be said, as Ortiz cleared his throat from his position on the stage.

Mark gave Tyler a jab, and Jerome called Holm’s name.

Both snapped awake, alert and looking around for a threat. Their gazes focused on the stage with everyone else.

“Alright fuckers, we’re going to sunny ole Masoul,” Ortiz said, as he confirmed what everyone had surmised.

“I want a full kit check before we leave Resolute. As soon as that is completed, you can finish up your leave, and make sure to see your section commanders.” With that, Ortiz stepped down from his platform, and other officers swarmed him to get their orders and pass them on.

There was nothing more that the troopers needed to know. People broke down into their forces, Divisions, Regiments and so on until everyone was in their right section.

Jerome looked over his section.

“Alright, the way I see it, we can get our maintenance done tonight, or do it tomorrow. We get it done tonight we can sleep in tomorrow,” he said, as he looked around at everyone. It had been two months since Reyes and Baek were kicked out of Reclaimer. His people did him proud, and helped him out a lot. This was their free time, so he would let them help to decide it.

“Those for doing it tonight?” Jerome said.

Only two hands didn’t raise.

“Well, let’s go and get started then,” Jerome said, as he put his papers in his pocket. He led them out of the mess, towards the armory.

***

“Leave always seems to go by so fast,” Ali complained, as everyone jogged on the massive track that went around the entire ship.

“Stow it Ali,” Alvarez said.Sounding like she agreed..

“Yes, Sergeant,” Ali said, as they continued their run.

It felt odd to be leaving Earth again. A part of Tyler felt like he didn’t really visit it. As much as Quentin Richter tried to make them feel comfortable and at home, it wasn’t anymore. He was leaving again, and it was hard to think about Earth once again. Even if Richter lived a good life - and was able to keep inside the tower instead of going out into the metal-dust of Earth - he would be dead without the expensive life-extending drugs that the CEOs made.

The world that Tyler grew up in would be dead. Reclaimer was a time capsule. Creatures of the past were stored for the future. They were awakened to exact a terrible price on those that tried to go against their masters, and the EMF’s.

Tyler tried to not think about it. When he was down on Sacremon, all that mattered was staying alive and keeping his friends alive. The colonists lived lives which were a luxury compared to people’s lives back on Earth. Yet, it wasn’t enough for them.

Tyler gritted his teeth against his thoughts.

Get your mind in the game, now’s the time to learn how to stay alive, not debate!

They were taught everything - from how to drive air-cars to Combat Shuttles, to working their gun systems. The shuttle pilots were kind of pissed, but the troopers in their cargo bays could see just how damned good they were.

The training level was broken into four different training areas. One was the Gas Planet Extractors located on Gas Planet in Masoul System.

Companies fucking suck at naming shit, Tyler thought. The other was an asteroid mining facility, and the other two were Masoul Actual’s underground towers.

Masoul Actual was plagued with the worst weather that humans ever encountered. The CEOs even gave up on claiming it, and lived in stations while the people lived underground. Their towers grew down, rather than up.

The simulated deck showed the inside of a station thankfully. The deck could simulate nearly any environment, most people liked to train with rain or lightning storms. The shittier the training on the simulation decks the easier it was to fight in those same conditions in real life. At least that seemed to be the training mantra.

Makes for great training, Tyler thought, as he heard the words of his training Sergeant Fredrickson.

He understood it, but when everything you’re wearing is soaked and you have to clean it all for hours. He wasn’t praising of the genius that came up with the training schedule.***

“What’s up?” Mark asked Lucille as she sat in his arms, and looked at Jupiter as it went past. He didn’t just see that something was on Lucille’s mind – he could feel it, too.

“I’m just sad,” she said. She looked ahead as her eyes started to water.

“Sad about what?” Mark asked. He wasn’t sure how he could make her feel better.

“We’re going to have about five months, and then we’re going to sleep. I’ll see you for about a week and you’ll be gone for a year,” she said. The tears fell more now, as she hid her face in Mark’s shoulder.

He held her, and his large arms cocooned her.

“Don’t worry, everything will be alright,” Mark said. He hoped he was right.

He had shared more with Lucille than he thought was possible for him to share with anyone else. They talked about things that made tears come to his eyes. He wanted to do anything he could to try and comfort her.

As it was, she was scared about the attachment she was forming. She was scared she might get hurt by caring for a man that was going right into the fight. She saw his scans and his medical treatment. He would have died without his augments.

Now, all of that inner turmoil made her sad about losing him. She distanced herself, as if more space would help her. Mark didn’t understand it.

There was little he could do but reassure her. He rocked her back and forth, and tried to make promises that he wasn’t sure he could keep.

Their lips kissed, and hunger filled her as she kissed him harder and with more passion.

They continued for a few minutes before Mark looked around.

“I think we should go and try and find a corner of the library,” he said, as he quirked an eyebrow to her in question.

She gave a small smile. Mark picked her off of his lap, and they went to the library. The nooks and dark corners made it the regular hook-up place for couples. The sex was hard and frantic. Lucille’s lips were hungry, as she seemed to try to pull something from Mark. Mark felt his own hunger - the hunger of a man about to go to war.

Some Veterans said that there’s no aphrodisiac quite like coming or going to war. In that library corner, Mark agreed with them completely.

Afterwards they sat there, their sweat cooling as they talked about random goings on. They tried to keep away from the inevitable truth of what was to come.

When they dressed, Mark reached for Lucille’s hand, but she pushed him away.

“I can’t. I can’t think of you being away from me. I’m turning into a wreck. I can’t handle it. We need to break up,” Lucille said.

Mark felt his body chill. He exerted control over himself, and objectively cut away his emotions. He didn’t need to deal with this right now. He had a war to fight. He didn’t need to be preoccupied.

“What’s wrong?” Mark asked.

“Nothing. You’re great, but it hurts so much you being away. I can’t handle it,” she said.

“Okay,” Mark said. His voice was soothing, but he wanted to beat his frustration out in the gym till his body burned.

“Maybe later, once I’ve got myself sorted out, we can get back together,” she said. She smiled up to him with tears in her eyes.

“Okay,” Mark said. Some of the hope hit him, with pain mixed in.

She hugged him, and Mark wrapped his large arms around her. He smelled her hair, and exhaled his frustration.

“Okay,” Lucille said, as she turned and walked away with tears in her eyes.

The EMF weren’t about to let a trooper get out of war, and Mark wasn’t going to let his friends go to war without him there to watch their backs.

Mark’s frustration turned into aimless anger. He focused it on his mission. He would survive, and then he would find out if Lucille wanted him back.

First, he needed to go to the gym and bleed off some of the anger inside.

***

Tyler waved Mark over, to his table. Alexis leaned against him as much as the table. Her warmth settled his nerves, even in light of the EMF and Reclaimer’s drastic moves.

Nerva walked onto the stage. First and second Regiment were in the mess, and Major Isalev just finished up treatment.

“Alright, it looks like a religious group of some sort has exercised control over Masoul System. Fearless is badly damaged, but they are exiting the system and heading towards us. Other carriers are being mobilized in Sol and sent our way.” His calm, measured voice made people look at the information in a new light.

“We are heading for the system within five hours. We will be training to take back Masoul. We will also be picking up the survivors of the Fearless enroute Fearless.”

Something dark shifted in his eyes.

“I have read over the files on this group. They might show themselves as a religion, but they use it as a guise to claim power over people. This is a war unlike any we have fought in the EMF for generations. Our mission will be to not only protect the assets of Earth and Her Colonies, but the people who want no part of this uprising,” Nerva continued. “This ‘Harmony’ group will do everything in their power to instill loyalty with them. When the people see through their guise, they will use fear and pain to gain obedience.”

The way he said the word ‘Harmony’ highlighted how far they were from their namesake.

Stuck between two devils, one that subjugates most of the population, but allows them to do as they desire outside of work with the promise of violence if they turn to violence. Or those that resort to lies first, then use violence to try and keep up the charade. I guess that’s how the companies differ. They don’t try to keep up the charade. There are rules. Follow them, and everyone gets along. You raise a weapon against the companies, the EMF slaps you. You talk it out, then the companies will listen. Wars cost them profits - keeping away from them is a win-win possibility.

It was screwed up to all hell. In a perfect world, one wouldn’t have to pick between the two. There was one thing everyone from the slums of Earth learned very early on - that the world wasn’t a perfect place, and never would be.

“We will make them regret ever thinking of using this twisted perversion of religion to attack our people,” There were hungry noises from around the room. Everyone saw the videos of Masoul. “You all have a week off. Deal with what you need to deal with. A training schedule will be up shortly,” Nerva said as he wrapped up his presentation, and walked off the stage.

“Joy,” Mark said, as he turned to Tyler who shook his head at the craziness of it all. Alexis sighed by his side.

Medic Qi walked over to the table, and had an unhappy look on his face.

Tyler tilted his head and waved in greeting to the platoon medic. He hadn’t seen him in a while. He was with the camp’s medical personnel, and back from the front lines.

“Hey Mark,” Qi said. Tyler paid half-attention to the conversation. Something about Qi’s eyes made him feel unconscious dread.

“Hey Qi, what’s up?” Mark said, as he stood up to go to the growing meal line.

“Umm, did you know about Keller?” Qi asked.

“Who’s that?” Mark asked, confused by the question. Qi took a moment before he responded.

“Lucille’s new boyfriend.” Tyler heard the tension and pain in Qi’s voice, but also the concern for Mark. Tyler closed his eyes, and felt pain in his stomach for Mark.

“No, no I didn’t,” Mark said. He tried to sound calm, but Tyler could read him better than that. Shock quickly became outrage.

“Yeah, I know you better than Lucille and I thought that you should know,” Qi said.

“She said that she couldn’t be away from me, that she needed time to sort her stuff…        well, that’s fast,” Mark said, as he covered over the pain he felt.

“Yeah, they started dating a few weeks ago, sorry I’m the one telling you. I thought that someone should,” Qi said.

“No, don’t worry about it, thanks for telling me. Better for me to know than run into it sometime,” Mark said, as he continued to conceal his pain.

“Alright, well talk to you later,” Qi said.

“See ya,” Mark said.

Tyler stood up, and Mark stood as he grinded his teeth. He was angrier than Tyler had seen him in years.

“Gym?” Tyler asked.

“Gym,” Mark said with a straight face, and eyes that were usually turned towards their enemy. The look sent a chill down Tyler’s back.

Mark didn’t trust many people, but those he did, he trusted wholly. He would do anything to protect or help them. Now Lucille had broken that trust. Tyler was scared to see what happen to Mark.

He looked to Alexis, and her look told him everything.

Stay with him and make sure that he’s okay, it seemed to say. While she and Tyler became close and intimate, Mark always treated Alexis like a little sister. She felt the same kind of sadness for Mark that Tyler felt.

***

“Alright!” Mark said getting his section’s attention. “We’re gonna get our gear sorted out. Anyone have any issues?” People shook their heads, and Mark stood with his tray. “Then let’s be about it,” he said.

Nerva made his announcement a week ago, and Mark wanted to get prepared for what was coming.

He learned he could trust three things - the fact life would keep going, himself, and the troopers he trained with. He didn’t try to meet new people. He spent his time reading, and getting lost in histories about other religious crusades. This knowledge helped him find an edge on Harmony.

He mourned for those they lost, the faces he would never see again. He buried that pain deeper, and used it as fuel to keep going and make sure that he lost less people. But he knew he would lose people. If he didn’t admit that, it could break him as a leader.

His section followed, and headed out of the mess. They already left Earth behind, and started the one hundred and seventeen-day cycle for them to get up to full power. The solar sails unfurled, and ringed the carrier with their gossamer-looking brilliance. The engines would help them get to forty percent the speed of light. When the speed was acquired, it would cut off.

Mark wasn’t focused on that. His mind was already turning to Masoul.

“Did everyone look over the information on Masoul?” he asked, as he looked at the section.

“Yeah, friggin heads killing me. Shouldn’t have had that tequila,” Dashtund said. He looked a bit rough, even with his detox. Mark grinned, and the others laughed as they got to the elevator. Mark passed out the schedule through the net.

“We’re to check our gear, replace anything that needs it. I want to get some shooting in, and some physical training to get the kinks of last week out,” Mark said.

Groans and complaints were muttered through the ranks.

“I know, don’t worry, it won’t be anything like the training here. It’s just to make sure that we’re all good. Along that thought, we’re going to get physicals done as well.” Mark hoped no one heard the catch in his voice.

The elevator stopped at the armories.

“Then we’re doing rounds in the different simulated landscapes of Masoul, from Platoon level up to Regiment level,” Mark said. The section listened, but they also greeted their friends in the area.

They came up to their armories, and walked up to the armorer’s desk.

Mark passed his wrist over the scanning area. The screen changed, and a new screen lit up the armorer’s face.

“This way,” the armorer said, as he took them to their rack. He unlocked it, and pulled it out on its runners.

Everyone had a cubby that held all of their equipment - from armor, to fresh packs, repulsors and their E-12s. The AMR’s were back in storage.

Tyler sighed as he pulled out his E-12.

“You still have all of those attachments to make that a sniper anyway,” Mark said with a grin.

“Yes, but this one doesn’t punch through armor like it’s paper,” Tyler complained.

“And when in the hell did you hit paper? All I saw was headless tanks,” Haas said, as he joined the section.

As the Platoon’s Warrant, he made sure the things in the background kept ticking.

The Section greeted their old Sergeant in their various ways.

“So what you doing down here? Missing us all?” Dashtund joked.

“I’m here to talk to Tyler and some of you. Now we’re not on Earth, it makes sense to remake two-section. Tyler you’ll be in command, Smith from Jerome’s will be your second, Sal, Iliev, Obe and Ali will round you out. When we get more people from Fearless, then we’ll patch the holes in our structure. Orders have come from Earth. We’re to put our people in positions of strength. A sergeant from Fearless might be under a Master Corporal from Reclaimer. It’s going to make things interesting, so we best look to showing why we’re getting that honor.” Haas looked to them all, and it reminded Mark of when he was in command of the section.

“When will I start working with my section?” Tyler asked.

“No time like the present! Jerome should be down here shortly. When he gets down here, I want you to grab your new section mates and get all of your kit onto your rack,” Haas said.

“Understood, Warrant,” Tyler said. He looked to the people who were being pulled into his section.

“Alright, if you’re with me, grab your gear and get it to second sections rack. I’ll get it opened.” He made sure everyone acknowledged his order before he headed to the armorer.

Mark wished they could just pull the racks out like they did when they were going to be dropped on the planet. When they were in-flight or training, they locked them up - probably to make sure no one got any really dumb ideas.

They checked their armor and harnesses, and pulled their weapons apart. They made sure that the cleaning machine had done its job. There was always a spot of rust, or dry surface that needed lubricant on it.

Target practice went well. Mark didn’t have to say anything to his people as Wen and Haas wandered around, and checked on everyone.

Then, all of Alpha Companies’ second platoon went to get checked over medically.

Mark forced his anxiousness down.

He couldn’t stop thinking about how Lucille found someone else so fast, and how she didn’t just cut it off with him. She strung him along with the possibility that she might come back.

He told her things that he didn’t share with anyone, and it left him vulnerable. Those vulnerabilities were tossed out the window, and it hurt. It hurt a lot.

“Please remove your shirt, and get under the scanner,” said one of the medics who tended Mark.

Mark followed their instructions, and heard a sharp intake of air as the shadowing medic saw the number of scars from various burns, grenades, explosives weapon fire, blades and everything else that tried to kill Mark Victor.

They hooked him up, ran tests, and checked with his augments.

“Everything looks good. The rest of your section will be done shortly,” the medic said.

Mark gave a terse nod, and muttered his thanks as he pulled on his shirt and walked out of the room.

He looked up and saw a group of medics who glanced at him and talked.

“That’s why you don’t fuck the monkeys,” one of them said, as he looked to Mark and gave him a disgusted look.

It said Keller on his shirt.

Mark’s right hand shot down and then out. A knife came out of the medic’s shoulder.

That medic, who was talking shit, stared at his white robe turning red in shock. He screamed like was just disembowelled. Mark had heard it before.

The others cried out in alarm as Mark walked over, and grabbed the blade.

“You have something to say POT?” Mark asked, as his face got within inches from the medic’s. Veins bulged from his neck as he spat the acronym at the medic.

“No, no, nothing at all!” they said, as their voice went high and tight.

Mark grunted and pulled the blade out, and flicked it up into its holster.

“Something the matter?” Haas asked, as he came around the corner.

“Called us monkeys,” Mark said, as he walked past him and out of the medical ward.

“I want to file a charge against that man!” yelled Keller, who was the one that had the knife buried in his arm.

“You’re alive, aren’t you? I’d be thanking your lucky stars at this point,” Haas growled. “Get him fixed up, and mind that you don’t start talking about my troopers that way again. Maybe you should spend some time in the field working with us, instead of fucking around in your high tower!” Haas spat, and turned away from the medics.

Mark found a place out of the medical ward, and leaned against the wall.

“What’s up?” Haas asked.

“Bit fucked up,” Mark said. He didn’t want to get into the acidic feelings that ran through his body and gut.

“See, that anger is turned towards Harmony and the fuckers that want to turn Masoul into a bloodbath,” Haas said, his voice gentle despite his message. Pull it the fuck together.

“Yeah, got it, thanks,” Mark looked to Haas, as they locked eyes.

Haas looked as if he was searching for something before he clapped a hand on Mark’s shoulder, and sighed.

“We’ve got a couple of months to get ready for Masoul. Focus on that. Once we’re done with Masoul, we’ll go back to Earth and I’ll buy a round,” Haas said.

“I’ll hold you to that, Warrant,” Mark said with a smile, even as his mind wondered if either of them would be alive by that time. Harmony didn’t look to be a pushover.

Other Divisions worked tirelessly through the decks that were changed, according to Masoul’s refining and mining facilities. It was a cross-section of a station, and the underground towers on Masoul actual.

Nerva had everyone go through the floors a number of times before he brought them in for lectures.

Those that were part of his earlier Regiment were tirelessly questioned as to why they were going to a damned lecture instead of training.

Now they would get their answer. The lecture halls were made like an old-fashioned stadium, and were primarily used by the training cadre when new recruits were brought onboard. Seats ringed around a central stage, and screens helped the people on the upper levels see the person who presented.

“As you have all been learning over the past couple of days, Masoul and its various environments are rather confusing and annoying.” A mutter of agreement rose from the people in the seats.

“In this class, we will look over the makeup of the stations, the basis of the refining facilities, as well as the underground tunnels.”

Confused and annoyed whispers went through the crowd.

Why the hell were they learning about how something was built? All they needed to know was how to get close to the bastards, and make them ever regret falling out from between their momma’s legs! Mark hid his grin, and remembered the long months that Jerome, Alexis, Tyler and he had spent with Nerva. Most people looked at a group’s tactics. That was good, but looking at their motivations - the thought process that brought them to those tactics - could make someone almost anticipate their enemies’ thoughts.

Nerva cleared his throat, and the whispers died as a hologram of an odd looking upside down tower appeared.

“To start, we will look at the towers on Masoul prime. Not only are they dug into the planet’s surface rather than on it because of the weather systems, they are also connected via tunnels across various levels. This means that people do not need to run across the surface. Knowing this maze of tunnels can get one from one side of the five cities to the other. Also the lower you are, the better respected you are, instead of up in all cities on the surface. While there are five cities on Masoul, they house more than twenty-one-million people. The CEOs live in the stations, and leave the people to care for their cities. It’s easier to dig where people already are, than move the equipment to a new site and start a city, or tower. Most towers are built as deep as possible before moving onto the next one. As one reaches a hundred stories, then the next one is started. They do not grow in tandem, and look to be shorter than the neighboring towers. Now while the further down the towers are, the more prestigious. At the bottom levels there are heat converters, exchangers, water processing centers and such. The towers use the planet’s natural heat to help power and heat the towers.” There were no whispers anymore as annotations filled the holographic representation of the tower.

And so the next few months passed. Nerva talked about every facility with a familiarity that made the troopers think he had been in the system before.

He talked about a fleet of massive freighters and shuttles moving the people of Masoul out to the rest of the system. Other than Masoul Actual people, there were the asteroid and atmosphere collection, and refining centers. Masoul G, which gained the nickname Gas planet before the end of lecture, had asteroids lowered into the atmosphere with massive collectors that grabbed the planet’s atmosphere. It was pulled into refiners that were stored and passed off to freighters. More asteroids were converted for holding and resting places for the workers. The CEO station rested above them, which was again made from an asteroid. It was identical to the stations over Masoul. Outside, they looked like spherical objects. The older a station, the smoother it looked. Inside they were a mass of artificial gardens, open areas of armored glass and synthetic metal - nothing at all like the dirty and dark conditions that the people of Masoul actual lived in.

More stations rested in the asteroid belt that was just within the gravitational pull of Gas planet. A CEO asteroid held position just off of the asteroid belt, close to the refiners and finished materials holding stations. Hundreds of shuttles and freighters moved from the mining projects happening on multiple asteroids, brought back raw materials, and dumped them into the refiners. Crews that did their few months of labour were given rest in asteroid stations nearby, or shipped back to Masoul.

Strike Station rested around Masoul E, with three other stations. The only other installations in the system were the progressing stations in the asteroid belt, or around Gas Planet. The last and biggest was Shipping Station.

The station was massive, with a twenty-kilometer radius. Super Freighters were built with the purpose of moving the sphere’s materials to Masoul’s Shipping Station. Even they were half the size of the station. The station could be filled within seven years of the system’s output. The freighters dropped off their loads from the other planets in the Sphere. That turned into four months. Super freighters, or their smaller brethren, constantly poured into the system. Refined materials and technology - the products that the Sphere poured out - were the lifeblood of the EHC. It was why Strike Station was in Masoul. All of that fuel and those resources kept the EHC moving. Without them, there would be some serious issues.

As they learned about the system they were going to, they ran through countless simulations on the various decks. It helped more than most would have assumed to knowing what pipes meant what, and the standardized layouts of the stations.

The best of it all was the time off.

***

Jerome slumped into the booth with Holm, Mark, Tyler and Alexis.

“Just a week to go until we’re in the coffins and put to sleep till we come up on Fearless,” Jerome said, as he nursed a beer in his hand.

“Yeah, then more training and we’ll be off to Masoul,” Alexis replied, with tiredness seeped into her voice from all the training.

The complaints reached the higher ups, and it was why they had the next week off before they filed into the stacks of cryo pods, to be lost to time. They would be waiting there until they were awoken to war.

“The joys of the EMF,” Tyler said, as he raised his beer in a faux toast. He got a snort from his girlfriend.

“I don’t like this Harmony group one bit,” Jerome said as he leaned forward. His eyes were dark.

“You talking about the freighters they seized?” Mark asked. It was a few weeks old, but it still unsettled a few. Harmony spread their influence across Masoul, to the gas planet. The asteroids were still unclaimed, but they took as much refined materials from Shipping Station and the storage stations around Gas planet as possible.

Harmony wasn’t as quick to get to shipping station. When they got there, there was little left. The Gas planet storage still had most of their resources. They stayed at the shipping station, and people thought that was it. A freighter came in, and people tried to warn it off but it kept coming. The followers of Harmony waited. There were no reports of fighting, but a few hours later, inner-system freighters headed for Masoual actual and Gas planet.

There was some fighting on Gas planet, as Harmony asserted control. Gas planet still had their cryo-bunkers. Those that didn’t want any part already climbed aboard them, hit the auto-pilot, and waited at a certain point outside the system for retrieval.

Once Gas planet was under Harmony’s control, communications stopped coming from it - as with Masoul. Freighters and shuttles moved across the systems, and there was a regular hive of activity between Masoul actual, the Shipping Station, and Gas planet’s stations.

Another freighter came in, and it too didn’t move from its place at shipping station. It was a damned mess.

“Yeah, either they’re pretty good and capable of stopping people from communicating with the freighters, or those freighters are being sent as aid,” Jerome said, as he looked up into the silence.

“Come on, that’s pretty damned elaborate. Maybe two systems could work together. Those freighters are from two different systems. There aren’t many crew on those things - just twenty people at a time and their families, maybe four hundred people tops. The Harmony bastards probably got a couple of thousand loyal followers on there. And those freighter workers aren’t going to put their family in Danger,” Tyler argued.

“Maybe, but Nerva tells us to look at all the possibilities,” Jerome said, as he sat back and drank his beer.

“Well, you’re a ray of sunshine today,” Holm said, as he shot Jerome a look and a grin before he took a swig.

Someone tapped Jerome on the shoulder. He turned and found a rather pretty athletic-looking woman.

She was smiling at him for some reason.

“Hello, can I help you?” he said, as his eyes fell to her nametape. He definitely wasn’t taking in the way her smart clothes gripped what lay underneath that nametape.

What? I’m a guy, ogling is my first function. Garcia - that name’s familiar. Why am I thinking of baseball?

“Hello Sergeant Jerome. Mind if I buy my savior a beer?” she said, as she enjoyed his confusion.

“Savior?” he asked. He looked at her in alarm, and his eyes twitched to the others in the booth to see if they knew what in the hell she was talking about.

“You don’t remember?” she said. She was clearly teasing him.

“Nope,” he said, as he shook his head. She laughed, and it was a rich. It made Jerome want to hear it again.

“The last time you saw me, I got hit in the side with the boulder and was freaking out. I believe you told me to ‘Calm down you twat.’” The smile was still on her lips.

“Oh,” Jerome said. The memory came back to him, and he wasn’t sure what to say to that little remark. He remembered how he raced around to get ammunition to people, and checked on his section when someone got bowled over with a boulder.

“So, what about that beer?” she asked, as her eyes danced.

“See you around,” Jerome told the others, and chugged the rest of his drink.

“Nice to meet you all,” Garcia said. She smiled to everyone and let Jerome out of the booth. She led the way to the bar, and the smart clothes helped him see all that was hidden under her armor.

They rested on the bar, and looked at one another.

“Sorry about back on Sacremon. I thought you were a guy,” Jerome said. He hoped that was the right thing to say.

“And now?” she said, as she flicked those deep brown eyes up to his.

“Most definitely not,” he grinned.

“Good answer,” she said, and let out a chuckle.

“What can I get you?” the bartender asked.

“Two beers, please,” Garcia said, as she passed her hand over the scanner and deposited the required credits.

“Coming right up,” the bartender said. He grabbed the squeeze bottles that every liquid was stored in, and put them to the taps. A bubbly brown liquid showed through their clear packaging.

Garcia made small chat.

“So, what unit you with?” she asked.

“Alpha Company, Second platoon, third section. You?”

“Bravo, First, First,” she said, as the bartender came back with their beers.

“Thanks,” Jerome said. He held it up and toasted her.

“Gotta thank my savior somehow.” Her smile was back in full force as she took a long drag off the beer.

“You were a squirmer,” Jerome chuckled.

“You said I had a broken arm!” she said, as she hit him lightly.

“You wouldn’t shut up, or stop moving,” Jerome shrugged. He hid his grin behind his bottle as he took a drink, and moved a bit closer as he brought it down.

“Took two days for them to sort me out up here,” she countered.

Jerome took another drink.

“And you got a nice vacation, look at that,” he said.

“I’m not going to win this argument, am I?” she asked, as she bit her lip.

“Nope I don…” Jerome’s words were stopped with Garcia’s lips. He stood there in shock for a moment before he melted around her. His hands moved around her back, and he pulled her to him. He had the pent-up need of a trooper to feel alive with another person, and it raged inside of him. They parted, and he felt the same hunger in her eyes. There was little time for niceties in the EMF.

“Library?” he asked.

“Look at you, such a gentleman,” she quipped, and bit her lip and smiled.

“Well I did save your life,” Jerome said, with his face split in a smile.

“I guess I should repay you,” she answered. Her lips came up to his quickly, and her hand snaked into his as she pulled him away from the bar.

They got to the door, and both of them downed their drinks. They weren’t allowed outside of the mess.

Girl after my own heart, Jerome thought. He thanked whatever luck that got him a night with this wonder of the opposite sex.

She let out a belch. Jerome, not about to be outdone, let one rip that made others look his way.

“Gross,” she said with a laugh.

“Hey, you did it first.”

She bit her lip, kept walking, and shook her head. They got to the elevator and he pressed her up against the wall. He pushed his body against hers. The smart cloth was a thin barrier between their hungered bodies.

Someone made a noise, and got on the elevator. Jerome and Garcia separated. They were a bit embarrassed, but not too much. The elevator got close to the library, and they jumped off.

“Have fun!” the other rider said after them. They laughed as the doors shut, and they sped off.

“Oh I think I will,” Jerome said, and got a look from Garcia. Then they were in the library, and headed for the darkest nook they could find.

Chapter 13

EMFC Reclaimer

In transit from Sol System to Masoul System

9/3206-1/3237

“See you on the other side,” Alexis said with a grin.

“You bet,” Tyler said, and kissed her before they went their separate ways. He fell in with the rest of his platoon, and headed down the spine of Reclaimer. Everyone found their pod and climbed in. They slapped the adhesive skin-contact leads, and hooked on their harnesses while the sedative took effect.

Tyler looked out through drowsy eyes, as the pod’s door shut. Then they opened.

Tyler checked his implants. It had been thirty-one years and four months since he went to sleep.

He stepped out of the pod, and his body felt like it was half asleep. It was hard to think that so much time went by. It felt like he had just closed his eyes.

His implants pinged, and he used the implants in his eyes to pull up the message. Instead of heading to the platoon’s barracks, he headed towards the armories. The rest of the Platoon did the same thing. Most of them wobbled, and looked more like zombies from old-fashioned movies than humans.

Wen and Haas headed down the cryo-pods for the higher-rank area.

By the time they got to the armories, they were mostly human. The armorer wasn’t around. He hadn’t been pulled out of cryo yet..

Thankfully, the racks opened for the platoon and they got their gear on.

“What’s going on?” Mark asked, as Wen and Haas joined them.

“We’re coming up on Fearless, and it looks like she’s drifting. Thankfully she’s on low power, but Reclaimer can’t dock with her, and we aren’t getting any response from our attempts to communicate. Our Division is going to conduct a reconnaissance of the ship, and determine what happened. We don’t have much time - a few hours to try and figure it out, wake up who we need to over there, and get Fearless moving. If we don’t get it done in that time, Reclaimer is going to keep going,” Wen said.

Get the ship moving before Reclaimer leaves us, or don’t and strap ourselves into cryo-pods and hopefully be revived this century. Sometimes I love being in the EMF.

Tyler kept his thoughts to himself, as he moved in his armor before he pulled his helmet on. He checked that all his seals were good, and pulled his rifle from its place.

“This job never gets old,” Dashtund complained. No one disagreed.

Tyler checked his display. Everyone showed as a green dot. They had a new display update that color-coded troopers. Green meant they were good. Yellow meant that they were injured, but still able to fight. Red meant they needed immediate attention. Blue meant they were in cryo-stasis. Black meant they didn’t have vital signs.

It didn’t take long before they were headed into the hangar. It was depressurized, and the ship just woke up from deep-sleep. A number of Combat Shuttles came online. Their lights illuminated the area around them, as crews worked to run a full check-up on them.

“Could have woken us up earlier to make sure the damned shuttles are good to go at least,” Jerome complained on a private channel. As a Sergeant, he couldn’t complain openly like Dashtund. Well, none of them could now. Mark, Jerome, and finally Tyler were all Sergeants now.

They marched up their shuttle’s ramps and locked themselves in. The Cargo Master went through, and took longer than normal to check them all out. The shuttle’s engines thrummed, and they rose off of the deck. The main hangars were open. The shuttles pulled out and away from their resting place in formation. The entire Division, which was just over eight hundred troopers under the newly minted Major Nerva, were headed towards the carrier. All of Reclaimer’s batteries were turned and aimed at the ship, just in case.

Nothing happened as the shuttles approached. They flew around the carrier, and found no life in the ship - even though their sensors registered the power plants as still working.

“Orders from high, we’re going to be going in through the access airlocks. Each Shuttle will get one, and try to make entry,” Wen said, as he cut the channel.

Tyler moved from his seat. He was with the weapons detachment. They swapped out their mortars for E-12’s, and breaching charges.

Tyler got into the pilot cabin, and looked between the pilots’ two seats to see the oncoming ship.

“How we looking?” he asked through a private channel.

“We’ll be on site in three minutes,” one of the pilots said.

“Good, I want to have us on the hull. If the airlock has an explosive decompression, I don’t want that to blow right out into your cargo hold,” Tyler said.

“Yes, Sergeant,” the same pilot responded. The other pilot’s hands adjusted something as the shuttle moved away from its initial route.

True to his word, the shuttle was down in three minutes and the ramp opened. Tyler walked out of the ramp, and made sure that his shoes were firmly stuck to the carrier’s hull before he went on. He looked up and around him. The vastness of space was all around him. It was as beautiful as it was terrifying. If he got disconnected from the hull, and his grapple gun didn’t work, it would be a bitch to be rescued.

Going for a walk on the wild side was a scary, but exhilarating time. Tyler didn’t have that much time to take in the sights. He moved with his and Zukic’s sections up to the airlock that blinked on his HUD.

“Zukic, breach it open. Tyler, flow in behind him. I’ll be behind. Zukic follow in the rear,” Haas said, as he came down the shuttle’s ramp and followed the procession across the massive carrier’s hull.

“Understood,” Zukic and Tyler said, as they passed on the orders to their sections.

Zukic’s people found the access port, and input their breaker.

“Breaching!” Givens said, the airlock opening.

“Move it!” Tyler said. No air blew out, and no weapons were fired from inside. The Troopers piled in from above and below the doorway, into the airlock. Some came in upside down, but the method was used to make sure that at least some of them were on their feet.

They quickly pulled themselves up. The gravity was weak here, so there were no major injuries.

The five-man airlock filled up fast and Tyler sealed it up. He pressurized it, and they moved through into the interior of the ship.

“Reading low atmo and low heat,” Tyler reported, as he and his people moved in.  Their weapons were up and ready.

The rest of the shuttle piled in.

“Let’s head for the bridge,” Haas said.

The bridge on all ships within the EHC was located at the front. It was usually raised up a little so that they could see better if they needed to eyeball something. View screens filled in the rest of the information. Tyler read military fiction, and all of those ships had their bridge in the center. The cost of doing so was immense, so the EMF needed medium-sized carriers with extra armor, weapons, and decks as their workhorses - instead of designing and building a purpose-built war machine.

“I’ll take the right, Smith left, double time to the bridge,” Tyler said, sending a waypoint to Smith.

A green light appeared next to Smith’s name, acknowledging the order.

The last of the troopers piled into the corridor, and Tyler took off at a sedate pace so that no one got all fucked up from the get-go.

The whole journey was boring as hell. Nothing changed on the readings, no one tried to contact them, and no one tried to talk to them. Well, until they were three decks away from the bridge, and they ran into blast doors with asphyxiated and irradiated people who floated about.

Tyler zoomed out on his map. It was being updated with the sensor readings from Reclaimer. They were next to the decks that were in the blast path of Strike station’s explosion. The radiation was higher in these areas. It was nothing to worry about if they took some drugs when they got back to Reclaimer.

“Guess we know what they used to create that explosion,” Haas growled. “Strike Station’s own power plants.” He answered the question that sporuted in everyone’s mind.

“Let’s go see what happened to the bridge, and why this ship is Dutchman,” Haas said.

“Finding us a new route,” Tyler said.

They ran into one more dead-end before they came to the bridge’s blast doors. They were sealed.

Zukic’s people used codes on the access port again, and the inner door opened. Air was pulled in towards the bridge.

“I think the bridge doesn’t have pressure. Let’s close the first blast door behind us, then slowly open the second,” Tyler said.

“Givens, see to it,” Zukic said.

Tyler’s section could fit into the space between the massive doors. The first closed behind them, and made a sort of tomb.

Haas joined them and waited. His weapon was up and ready, like all of the other troopers.

The inner door opened slowly, and the wind was pulled out quickly. There wasn’t enough pressure to pull the troopers off of their feet, but it was still annoying.

“Fuck,” Sal said. He summarized Tyler’s thoughts nicely.

Bodies drifted in the low gravity. The air that escaped with Two-section’s entrance pushed them around the bridge. A number of the windows that faced where the ship had been hit were bowed out, and told the story of depressurization.

Wen broke up the tasks.

“Tyler, fire up the main computer. Zukic, there’s nothing for you to do in here. Check the area, and see if you can find anything interesting,” he said.

“Warrant,” Zukic responded. Tyler was already moving to the communications console. He knew his environment, which was key to winning. He knew the EMF carriers inside and out.

He turned on the systems, and was rewarded with the console’s glows that came to life. He booted up communications, and the net across the ship.

He headed for the navigation console. It was a massive table with workstations all around it, and a single large seat at its peak. The chief navigator would sit there, pilot the carrier in-system, and make sure that it followed its necessary path through the black of space.

Tyler remembered his limited education on navigation, and started to run a systems check.

“You seem to know your way around the bridge,” Haas said a few moments later.

“Thought I might as well know the place I call home. Fearless is the same type of carrier as Resilient,” Tyler shrugged.

“You think you can get this thing moving?” Haas asked.

Tyler looked over the consoles. He saw the input flight plan, and the results that came in from the system checks.

“Yeah, I should be able to. It’s already headed in the direction we want to go. If I just power up the engines, put it on the right course, it’ll do the rest,” Tyler said.

“Good, do it. Reclaimer is willing to send a navigator over, but only if we get her moving. If we don’t, then Reclaimer is going to have to slow down more, and we won’t have much fuel to maneuver,” Haas said.

“Yes, sir.” Tyler put his gun on his lap, and started using the different consoles. He upped the power from the plants. He swore he could feel the thrum of the power plants, as they fed their power into the engines. The ship started moving.

“Very good, stay there. I’m going to connect the navigator to you,” Haas said.

“Who is this?” The Navigator asked, snappish.

“Sergeant Tyler Victor,” Tyler said.

“Very well Sergeant, what is going on?”

“We are heading three degrees off from Reclaimer’s direction star ward. I am correcting to run parallel at twelve thousand kilometers. Do you have Reclaimer’s thrust coordinates?” The Navigator rapped out a schpeel of numbers. Tyler had him repeat it a few times to make sure he had the numbers right. If he fucked up moving something the size of an EMF carrier, it would not look good on his record.

The navigator asked a stream of questions. Tyler fired off responses as he found answers.

He felt a tap on his shoulder, and looked up and saw the navigator. He was a middle-aged looking man, with a thin frame inside smart clothes with a large helmet. Instead of the armored and sleek helmet Tyler wore, it was made to give the user the greatest view possible - without the view screens on either side of their visor.

“Thank you, sergeant. I’ll take it from here,” said the navigator, who talked to Tyler for the last twenty minutes or so.

“All yours, sir,” Tyler said. He saw the Navigator was rated as a Captain.

The other stations were manned with a bare crew.

Haas moved over to a station that dealt with power.

“Looks like all of the Troopers that made it to the spine are okay. Two section on me. We’re going to check that the armories are secured, and that we aren’t going to have a blow-out if we pressurize the areas the troopers will need to get into their armor,” Haas said, as he led the way back to the bulkhead. It opened as two engineers walked in, saw the caved out window, and headed towards it.

The ship started to come to life. The troopers used ladders to move around as the elevators were still unpowered. They used the ladders to get through the ship.

“Well, that’s annoying,” Obe said, as they got to the armories.

“What?” Iliev asked.

“Elevators just got powered up,” Obe said.

“Always just a moment too late to be useful,” Iliev said, as they left the first armory. It was airtight. So was the second, and so it went. Troopers checked every armory and made sure that the spine was sealed up tight. Then, and only then, did Nerva give the all-clear and the area started to get pumped full of air. The medics went to the cryo computers.

“So we’ve got good and bad news,” said Mo, the Regiment’s medic. “Good news, the cryo pods are all still functioning. Bad news is the Troopers haven’t had their muscles worked for a few months, so they’re all dead-limbs. We’re going to have to wait a few days for their muscles to be good enough to wake them up. Or, it’s going to take weeks for them to get functional,”

Nerva relayed it to everyone in the Division, and to General Wai back on Reclaimer. Everyone else was muted.

“Very well. See to it in the meantime, Nerva, you are in command of operations on the Carrier. Lieutenant Colonel Price will be in contact with you shortly undoubtedly. Good work in securing the prize Fearless. It’s going to make the ledgers a little greener.” Wai cut the channel.

“For those of you that don’t understand what the General was saying - we captured this ghost ship. Ships that are returned to the owners, when they might have otherwise been lost, are entitled to receive compensation. About twenty percent the worth of the ship,” Nerva said. Tyler and the rest of the troopers around him broke out in whooping cheers, which drowned out anything else that Nerva might say.

***So they lived on Fearless, and in their armor for two days and loafed around. Then the medics said everything was good. More of them joined the group on Fearless. Cryo pods opened and troopers walked out. They were confused to see other troopers, fully ready for battle and with unfamiliar faces. Nerva’s voice came through the speakers on repeat.

“Crew of the Fearless, this is Major Nerva of the EMF Carrier Reclaimer. Fearless received damage to her bridge from the explosion of Strike Station. We are here to assist and get you back in the fight. Please don your armor and helmets. While the immediate area has been proven air-tight, we would rather not risk you breathing vacuum.” And so, it went on again and again. Nerva’s voice made Fearless’ troopers’ brows come together in memory. Their anger and fear were very plain to see.

Tyler could half-read their thoughts. They had been asleep. If Reclaimer wasn’t there, would they have ever woken up?

Instead of dwelling on the possibilities, leaders got their people together and got them into the armories and into their gear.

Engineers and techs flooded Fearless as the numbers started to come in. A third of the carrier’s strength was dead or missing - which included all of the officers in their separate spine. Something had pierced the ship’s unarmored side of it’s hull and carved out the officer’s cryo pods. They never woke up. A few of the pods were still functional but there weren’t many..

General Wai took over command of both ships and moved Reclaimer’s officers into both carriers’ command positions.

Units were pulled apart, which gave Fearless trained leaders and secured Wai’s authority.

Troopers were moved between Fearless to Reclaimer.

Nerva had Alpha Company shipped back to Reclaimer. Another platoon from a different force group took over, and helped make sure there were no issues on Fearless.

They came back to their barracks to find new troopers, who rested in or around their bunks.

They stood up and saw the new master corporal bar, and dot on Tyler’s arm.

“Dalhousie,” Tyler read. A tall, blue-haired girl - who actually suited the color and was not washed out by it - looked up. She had a perpetual scowl on her face, which made Tyler think she was fending off sexual attention much like a train would barrel through a thunderstorm. There were corporal stripes on her arm, and an air about her that said she would beat the hell out of anyone that crossed her.

Well, looks like this will be an interesting time.

“Kojo,” said a dark and tanned man, who looked perpetually tired and bored.

“Ma,” said a skinny, and nervous-looking private. He glanced around, and his epicanthic folded eyes flitted over the new arrivals.

“Evans,” said an equally skinny, and brand new private. He was pale and awkward, like most new privates.

“I’m Tyler and this is my merry band of idiots,” Tyler said, as he smiled to the rest of his section.

“Smith.”

“Sal.”

“Iliev.”

“Obe.”

Each of them rattled off their names in quick succession.

With greetings done, Tyler moved to his bunk. The rest of the section moved to their own, and told the new recruits which were empty bunks.

Tyler grabbed the gear on his bunk, and moved it to the bunk that had been Sergeant Alvarez’s.

He turned, and saw Dalhousie angrily flash her eyes at his actions.

“Why is there gear in the lockers?’ Dalhousie asked, as her face became angry. “I hope you don’t expect anyone to double bunk.” Her words were a clear threat instead of a question.

Tyler sat on his bunk. A wave of memory made it past the sea walls that he formed in his mind, to hold them at bay.

He took a moment and looked at the floor. He saw the barracks filled with the laughter. He remembered the jokes shared, and the crap they went through, as Alvarez pulled the best from them. It turned them from people, into a unit.

When the wave of memories passed, he found her tapping her foot with her arms crossed over her chest - probably done to minimize her looks. Sexual harassment was low with the Troopers, but people could still make unwanted advances.

“Master Corporal?” she asked, as heat entered her voice and her green eyes flashed angrily.

“They’re not here,” Tyler said quietly.

“They’ve been moved to another section? You must be hard pressed to get to Masoul not having half of your troopers,” she said. She was thoughtful, and looked a little annoyed at the EMF’s planning.

“We went from Sacremon to Earth. The cleaning crews didn’t remove their gear before we left for Masoul. Ali is the only one other than me that survived Sacremon,” Tyler said, as an edge entered his voice. She stopped her tapping foot, and her scowl turned into something else.

“I’m going for a walk,” Tyler said, as he stood and made his way out of the room. The memories were too fresh for him right now.

He sent a message to Mark. He got one back a few moments later, and headed for the gym. When he worked out, or hung around with people that were on Sacremon, it kept his mind centered and off of his section that was killed.

***

All four sections that made up four platoons were in a semi-circle around second Lieutenant Kim and Warrant Wen. They looked over the new arrivals from Fearless that didn’t look like part of the platoon yet. The look in their eyes made Mark think that they were going to change that shortly.

Introductions were made, and now Wen was looking over them all. His eyes drifted to the new members, who were the current unknowns.

“Reclaimer is unlike any carrier group before it, for two simple reasons. Here we compete to be the best. There is no doing the Bare Minimum here. If I catch you trying to pass BM, then I will let Warrant Haas have the pleasure of re-educating you. Some of you are fresh to the troopers. This is good. You have less of the issues that some of the more veteran stuck in the mud might have. This is Alpha company, Major Nerva’s favourite company in the entire fucking Division. We are the tip of the fucking spear here. I will not have anyone dulling our point. For the next four months we will train, will knock out the cobwebs and teach you skills you never knew were important. They will save your damned life in Masoul.” His eyes swept the crowd. There was a fire in them.

“We will begin with weapons draw and physical training to get those last cryo kinks out of your bones. Then, we’re going to train until we can’t think about anything but fighting. Here we will sweat, and then we will bleed in order to survive Masoul. They are unlike an enemy seen in generations. They are well organized and smart. They will bring the entire system into war, innocents and believers alike. We are going to make them see the errors of their ways. You will not underestimate them. To do so is to die.” Mark felt the people around the briefing straighten. Their faces were grim, and focused on their leader.

“Now, since we’re not going to fight anyone in our damned smart clothes,” he started, with his voice decidedly lighter and something humorous behind his eyes now, “we’re going to draw our armor and combat load to train in.” There were noises in the ranks, and a soft fuuuuuuuck that made Mark look to Dashtund. He got a ‘it wasn’t me’ shrug in response. Mark held his sigh as Wen continued.

“Major Nerva has accepted my request to use our equipment everywhere. We will deactivate our rifles, except for when on the range or training. There will be gear racks in your barracks by the end of the week. It seems that the entire Division will be doing the same, so the techs and engineers are having to fabricate a few extra,” Wen said with a certain amount of glee.

Mark knew it would be good to train in what they would fight in. But damn, he thought about the chafing and stank that would become his daily life.

“So, let’s be off to the Armories to collect our gear,” Wen said, as he turned and moved away.

“First section, to weapons detachment two ranks!” Haas barked. People already moved into position behind Wen. Two lines flowed back as they marched through the corridors. They were built to fit five people, side by side.

They got to their racks, and put their armor on. Mark watched how the new members of his section came together. There were three of them. Domo was a Southern girl, with a tanned-olive complexion. Bale was a big looking western lad. Repulsor gunner, Mark automatically thought. He looked at his size, as well as his armor and gear that were laid out to support more repulsor ammo boxes. Then there was the Easterner Sun, who had to be the geekiest trooper Mark ever met. The guy loved screwing around with tech, though he wanted to blow shit up instead of sit back like the rest of the techs in the EMF.

Mark just had to make sure that they understood how Reclaimer worked. Sun looked like he had the idea. Bale and Domo, he wasn’t so sure of.

Time will show.

Once suited and booted, they moved out of the armories and got glances and smirks from others as they moved through the halls to the training areas. They did physical training with their gear on, and cleared the mock-station.

The experience wound down a few hours later, as they piled out of the training area and into the mess hall. They shovelled down food.

“The damn chafing in these things is unreal,” Ko complained, and he rolled his shoulders and piled food into his mouth.

The salty buildup of sweat, and the armor that rubbed together, was rather unpleasant. The smart clothes would get rid of the salt, but it took a bit to time.

“Hopefully we won’t be soft as babies when we get in these for Masoul,” Dominguez pointed out.

Mark winced, and thought about the first time he wore armor for longer than a few weeks. It was damned uncomfortable to have straps where there were no callouses.  Skin that wasn’t roughed up constantly chafed, and rubbed painfully.

“There any word from higher about where we’re going to be headed to first?” Ishida asked, and looked to Mark.

“The asteroid belt it looks like, moving inward would be my guess,” he said, and shrugged before he continued to eat.

“Yay, low gee environment, then so much gas that a spark would turn it into a second sun. Onto an enemy controlled shipping station and a hell-planet, that is so fucked up that people buried themselves in it,” Dashtund said, as he used his spork as a pointing tool at all of them. “Sometimes, I just wonder what the hell people were thinking when they settled into these systems.” He shook his head and went back to eating. It was one of the rare times he shut up.

They finished off their meals and headed to the sparing rooms. They still wore all their gear, though other groups also wore armor and looked mildly annoyed.

“Sergeants, get them sorted out,” Haas said. He and Wen moved to a sparring circle themselves. The EMF was no place to let one’s skills get rusty.

Marcus got his people sorted into groups for training, and they proceeded to fight.

Sergeant Zukic crossed his arms. Jerome, Tyler and Mark gathered around him. He was a man of few words, and weapons detachment kept to themselves. They got to know one another more during their training, but there was still a bit of distance.

“You three have done well. Don’t fuck it up, and Mark, be sure to watch that Domo. She’s too cocky. You’re going to have to get that broom handle planted in Dalhousie’s spine out Tyler. Jerome, you’re going to have to make sure that you show you are the leader of your section. Having half of your section being new, means you’re going to need to hammer that into their skulls,” Zukic said, as his eyes lingered on Jerome. The rest of them looked over their sections, and thoughts moved behind their eyes.

“Thanks Sergeant,” Jerome said, as he nodded to Zukic seriously. He had two more drops than them under his belt. His advice was damned gold.

“No worries,” Zukic said, as he looked away.

Domo clapped Ishida in the ear, and drove a knee into her face. Ishida jumped away, and her combat senses kicked in. She was looking to warm up and spar, but Domo was looking to cause her pain.

Mark moved without thought, and his face was already like granite.

He walked onto the mat, and went right for Domo. She looked stunned for a second. She expected a reaction, but not this.

“Want to spar sergeant?” she asked, as he kept walking.

“Sure,” Mark said. Anger radiated through his muscles. He cut control to his augments, but he didn’t want to kill her. He never stopped walking. She walked up and tried to hit him. He used a hand, and batted away her movements. His pace slowed slightly, but he kept pushing her back.

A kick came for his head. He grabbed her leg with his left hand, and stabbed his forefinger and middle finger into the back of her knee.

She screamed out and dropped. A punch would have hurt, but he applied all of his strength into one tiny unarmored spot. Her tendons screamed in pain now.

He didn’t release her leg. Instead he turned, and his right hand also grabbed her leg. He promptly threw her, as if he was playing discus.

“Heads!” Tyler barked. People moved out of the way of a flailing Domo, who hit the next sparring matt and rolled over.

Mark moved as soon as she left his hands.

She lay on the floor, with fire in her eyes as he walked up.

“Don’t do that again,” he said simply. His eyes locked onto hers. She looked away first, and Mark looked to the two on the mat. “Dash, Tal, could you get these two to the medics?” Mark asked. He glanced at Ishida, who had blood coming from her ear and pain on her face.

“Sure,” Tal said, as he moved to Ishida.

Dashtund went to Domo.

“And this is why we can’t have nice things,” Dashtund said in a low voice that only he, Mark and Domo could hear. It didn’t seem to get to Domo. “You hit me, and I’ll let him put you in the ground. Who knows, he might even have to use two hands.”

“No fighting,” Mark said, as he looked to Dashtund. He was not going to have his people hit on one another for anything other than training.

As a Sergeant, he was out of their sphere slightly. Hopefully, they saw that he was giving a lesson.

A whistled pierced through the room. Zukic had two fingers in his mouth.

“No one said stop! Get to it, or do you need us to make sure you know how to fight again?” Zukic said. He indicated the Sergeants but didn’t say their name.

People got back to their fights.

Mark went back over to the Sergeants.

“We’ll have them moved to another unit by the end of the day,” Zukic said, as he looked at Domo.

Mark looked over to Wen and Haas who fought. They paused for a moment, and caught their breath. A look in their eyes told Mark they were watching. The nod showed they approved. Mark turned and joined his fellow Sergeants, who looked over the rest of the platoon.

Issues usually got a physical response. In the slums, that was the best educator. It showed that you were the best by hurting someone. It became part of the troopers’ lives.

The sparring went on, and people shifted around to new partners. They moved to fake knives, until dinner rolled around.

Then they got the night off.

Mark pulled off his armor, and put it under his bunk. Tal dumped his head in the corner between the bunk and the wall.

Tal sported a new Master Corporal dot and line as Mark’s second. He slept on the bunk above Mark.

“Want to go to the mess?” he asked.

“Going to see the Major,” Mark said. He asked the Major if they could talk a few days ago, and he agreed.

“Alright, well I think a bunch of us will be in the mess if you want to come and hangout,” Tal said, as he grabbed a towel from his locker and headed for the shower.

“Alright,” Mark said. Tal disappeared into the shower.

Mark moved through the others in the room. They talked excitedly, lazed about, and debated what to do with their free time.

It was a quick walk into officer territory, and to the Major’s door. His knock earned him an open door. Mark was about to salute, but Nerva waved it away.

“Come on in. Want a drink?” Nerva asked, as he moved to the cabinet next to his desk. Its contents were some of his only personal affects.

“Sure,” Mark said, as he walked into the room and let the door close behind him.

‘Cigar?”

“Well if you insist,” Mark said, as he relaxed and took a seat. Nerva passed him two cigars and a lighter, as he filled two glasses and put some ice in the cups.

Mark flicked a blade into his right hand. He trimmed the cigar, and exchanged it for a drink.

“Cheers,” Mark said, as he put the glass down. He lit his cigar, puffed it into life, exhaled smoke, and handed the cigar over to Nerva.

He took a sip of the drink. Its warmth spread through his body as he swallowed.

Nerva put down the lighter. His own cigar added to the room’s smoke.

“So, why are you here instead of using your free time to have a few drinks or get some sleep?” Nerva asked, as he sunk into his chair. His attention was focused on Mark.

“I thought you might have a better idea than me of what we’re going up against. I thought that information might be useful to my people,” Mark said, as he puffed on his cigar.

Nerva gave a rare smile. Lines that were usually flat appeared on his face. Mark could see that Nerva endured sleepless nights, as he made sure his people were ready to go.

“You’re learning, my boy,” Nerva said.

Mark grinned, and swelled with pride.

“So, it looks like Harmony is indeed some sort of religious group. They’ve made sure no one can escape the oncoming war and they’ve been given twenty-two years to prepare. Hopefully they’ll think we’ll take longer, and we’ll catch them with their pants down,” Nerva said. His previous smile fell away with his words, as he reclined more into his seat. His eyes were distant. He was either using his implants, or remembering it all. He took a sip of his drink.

“But plan for the worst, hope for the best,” Mark said, as he was rewarded with a snort.

“Seems you had a good teacher,” Nerva said dryly. “Yes, it looks that way. It also looks like the people in the asteroid belt and those on the gas planet aren’t going to come under Harmony’s control unless they force the issue. My money is on Harmony inflicting much violence to take those points.” He took a puff of his cigar, and Mark joined him.

“It’s kind of like the church and the revolution,” Nerva surmised.

“Revolution?” Mark asked, confused.

“The Industrial Revolution. People wanted to make things, great things and they found the freedom to do that. They found wealth in doing that. The church tried to regain control from them, but it was too little too late, at least in some areas. Those that had gained freedom from the system, gained a modicum of freedom. There was no pulling them back,” Nerva said. His eyes looked to Mark, whose brain whirred with that information.

“So the gas planet and the asteroids have been given a large degree of freedom from the corporations to do as they want, and they are not about to submit to having some religion tell them what to do,” Mark said, as he nodded his head. A new image of the tensions across Masoul filled the map of the system that he memorized.

“Bingo,” Nerva said, as he pointed his cigar at Mark.

“By the same logic, the people that are on Masoul actual aren’t all going to want to be part of Harmony,” Mark said.

“Not everyone likes how the majority are doing things. Here it looks like a minority are doing the shoving and pushing, but they have a plan and the ability to carry it out,” Nerva’s voice was dark, as he slugged the rest of the drink back.

Mark sensed something more behind that statement than just the basic reports he was given.

Nerva looked to him, as if he wondered whether to tell him what he knew or not. A decision was made, and he took a puff of his cigar.

“One of the freighters that they captured, it was carrying supplies for the EMF,” Nerva said. The room came into sharp focus for Mark, as his heartbeat climbed into his throat.

“They got a carrier’s worth of E-12 rifles and fifty million rounds,” Nerva said.

“Fuck,” Mark said. This mission had just got a whole lot harder.

Nerva simply nodded and drew in the cigar’s smoke, rolled it around and let it out in a rush.

“So we’re going to be fighting at least a carrier worth of Harmony assholes with our guns. Do they have grenade mags?” Mark asked, as the question rose from his mind.

“No,” Nerva said.

“Thank fuck, so a hundred and twenty-thousand-ish E-12-armed people, dug into defensive positions on a planet that has the worst weather possible, and the kind of tunnel system that would make a damn mole confused,” Mark surmised. He hoped Nerva would tell him that it wouldn’t be that bad. Now, dawned on him just how messy this whole thing was going to be.

Sacremon was a bitch, but there was only a million or so people that were part of the rebellion. Masoul’s population numbered fifty million - seven million on Masoul actual.

“That’s about right,” Nerva said.

“Well, this is going to fucking suck,” Mark said, as he threw back the rest of his drink. Nerva pulled out the bottle, and poured himself another drink. He pushed it over to Mark. He took it, and gave himself another measure.

“Now, what if I told you that only about five percent of both the gas planet and the asteroid miners were in cryo? The rest are active,” Nerva said, as he puffed on his cigar and watched Mark’s brain work.

“Then, I would say it gives us a place to start,” Mark said, confused. He got a head shake of disapproval from Nerva.

“It gives us reinforcements, and intel, never forget intel,” Nerva said, ever the teacher. “We’re it for the immediate future, one-hundred-and-seventy-three-thousand souls.  We need to end this fight and quick. That means getting them on the planet, cutting off their escape and buttoning them up like we did with Sacremon,” Nerva said.

Mark nodded. It was a solid plan, but he just hoped that the people of Masoul didn’t act faster than the people of Sacremon. The thought of possibly millions, maybe even a billion or so, rushing towards the nearly two hundred thousand troopers didn’t instill him with confidence.

“Now what battles does this remind you of?” Nerva asked. His impromptu lecture started.

Lectures like this continued over the next three weeks. Others occasionally sat in on the mini-lectures that Nerva hosted, and then he started to host them in the briefing room. They dissected the religion of Harmony, how the structure worked, and how that might relate to military options. They went through possible tactics, and opened up gaming nights where Divisions worked on massive interactive tables to take or defend the system Masoul.

Over the days, they trained for everything they thought they might need. And at night, they learned and planned.

***

“Shooting is not the act of hitting your target, it’s about putting a round where they will be, anticipating their movements, knowing the environment around you and making that connection that will lead to a kill. Yes, I know that most of our fights are going to be fast and heavy with the close quarters of Masoul. That said I do not want anyone getting sloppy. Say we get into a shopping centre or food court. A sniper might try to pick us off; you need to get accurate fire on them as quickly as possible. Knowing what the shooter knows will help you to kick their ass,” Tyler said as he looked at everyone before they went on the range for their marked shoot.

“Now, for you repulsors, just try and use less damned bullets. It’s a bitch carrying all those rounds,” Tyler joked, getting laughs from the platoon. They had come together well, the original crew of Reclaimer were still a little better, but the margin was damned slim.

And it might change with this little demonstration, Tyler thought.

“Get on the line and let’s get this shoot done. I hear they’ve got bacon cheeseburgers for lunch.” Tyler had never had a Bacon Cheeseburger before he joined the EMF. It was love at first bite and he made it a point to always get his sacred burger.

This got more smiles and amused headshakes as the troopers moved to their runs. They would be moving through a range built to mimic the different areas of Masoul and have live rounds shot in it.

Each Sergeant took up position at a door, four people waiting to go into each of the four ranges.

Tyler tapped Kauv’s shoulder, a buck new private in Jerome’s section. He almost shit himself and shot at the same time.

“We’ve done this before, don’t worry about it, just flow through and find the bastards in there,” Tyler said, his voice low and confident.

“Yes Sergeant,” Kauv said, taking a breath. Tyler could picture his Eastern features covered in sweat.

Tyler looked to Mcnara behind him, Gesturing to Kauv with his eyes.

She nodded ever so slightly. She’d make sure he was good to go. Tyler gave Kauv another tap and started the timer to start the course, once it hit zero the door opened and Kauv moved in, there was a burst of fire, followed by another, another went off as Mcnara flowed into the room, Kauv and her were flowing apart like waves through a breakwater.

Sasaki, also from Jerome’s section was third, Niemi from Mark’s was fourth.

“Right good, got a door straight, no movement, covering,” Kauv said, he was still a little shaky but less so than before.

“Left good, moving up to doorway,” Mcnara moved according to what she’d said.

They continued to communicate and move, getting through the course without anyone shooting anyone that wasn’t a target.

Tyler closed his visor and watched the cameras in the ‘kill house’.

“So looks like we’ll be getting the replacement for Domo today,” Jerome said.

“Hopefully you don’t have to kick their ass Mark,” Tyler chimed in on the private channel.

“Oh I think you will have a problem with that if I did,” Mark said.

“Something you’re not telling me?” Tyler asked, watching his team move down a corridor and breach into a new room.

“Why would you think that brother dear?” Mark said, enjoying stringing Tyler along.

“I swear you’re worse than bartenders and their regulars,” Zukic said, spitting into the receptacle in his helmet.

Tyler watched as Jerome leaned against the wall of the kill house, pulling a tin out and tapping it.

“I swear all you lot need to do is learn how to swing a bat and you could have yourselves a regular old-fashioned baseball team. Bunch of spitters!” Tyler accused, getting laughs from the others. Zukic had really grown on them, it seemed that he had his reservations about them when they had got their current ranks. Over time he had seen them at work and come to see them as professionals. Not the rank climbing assholes like Reyes.

Tyler no longer felt dwarfed by his rank, settling into it with calm ease. He knew his stuff, he knew his people and he could rely on them to help him out. Worrying about shit beyond his control was pointless.

It wasn’t long until the first team were done in the kill house. The next group moved in while the first talked to see how they could improve.

They sped through the day’s training.

Once they were all done with their run-throughs and the final after action was given, Wen and Haas dismissed them off to dinner with the night off.

Tyler dumped his armor on his rack, showered and walked over to Mark’s section. He wanted to know why the new member of his section was such a secret.

He walked in to find Mark on his back talking to someone.

“Yeah I know, but for now I’m going to focus on training this bunch of monkeys up,” Mark said, his voice firm, but with an edge of pleading. Tyler walked up to see who he was talking to.

“You only live once, need to get out to the mess and jump your bones. I know a few girls that would be happy to jump you,” Alexis said from the bunk opposite.

“Hey babe, what you doing here?” Tyler asked, leaning on the bunk she was sitting on.

Mark looked up to his brother from his back and gave him a shit eating grin. Tyler looked to Alexis seeing a similar smile on her face.

“I got transferred,” she said.

“Should have guessed,” Tyler said with a mix of trying to look annoyed, but also impressed.

“Now I get to bug him about going to see a girl instead of just working himself out like a man possessed,” Alexis said.

“Well he is possessed,” Tyler grinned.

“Shut up SWAS,” Mark said, turning the nickname into a plaything.

“Now come on Diablo, you mopey bastard, I think we should go get something to eat.” He looked to Alexis a wide smile splitting his face. “And then we can go to the gym.” Alexis rolled her eyes and tried to keep her lips in a line but couldn’t stop the corners from twitching up.

“Well, you two might be gym monkeys,” she said standing, “but the results aren’t bad.” She grinned wickedly, pressing against Tyler, they kissed as her hand snaked around squeezing his ass.

“Wow, now that will be five credits please,” Tyler said putting his hand out.

She laughed and shut him up with another short kiss. Tyler wasn’t opposed.

“Alright, well I’ll go to the gym. I have the feeling you two are going to studying your asses off in the library,” Mark said.

Alexis and Tyler laughed, they loved to bug Mark.

They made their way to the mess, talking about idle things as they grabbed food and downed it. They went through a simple gym routine more to get their blood flowing than push any actual weights. They were doing enough physical training every week that they didn’t want to burn out.

Then it was off to Nerva’s latest lecture on various processes used to make the different living areas in Masoul.

Mark headed back to his section’s barracks, bidding them a good night.

Chapter 14

Landing City

Masoul Actual, Masoul System

3/3240

Dan Moretti had aged a lot as Harmony had taken over the running of Masoul. He was seen as one of the lieutenants of the group. No one dared to go against him as he walked through the corridors of the buried towers.

He passed the ‘institutions’ places where people were taught the ways of Harmony, usually through pain and torture. There were two groups here, the believers and the dead. If you weren’t with Harmony you were against them. Mass killings had put down any that didn’t like Harmony. The rest had kept their comments to themselves. Moretti felt the E-12 that was slung across his chest, marking him as someone important and that had helped secure the freighters. The enforcers around him were his personal guard. Everyone knew him as Harper’s right had man.

The believers nodded to him in reverence as he passed. The none believers were in school; most would never make it out. The believers would do everything possible to extract the ‘greed’ that contaminated them.

He didn’t want to think about the number of people that were there just because their neighbors or someone didn’t like them. If he had read a history book he would have likened it to witch hunts in Earth’s history.

What he did know was that the EMF would come eventually and he could remove this disguise. He’d go back to work and worry about corporate back door deals instead of militarized religious orders taking over an entire solar system.

He went down a number of levels till he was at the command room where Harper, the man who still wore janitor’s clothes was waiting.

Moretti was still trying to figure out his past but it was murky.

“Ahh, Mark it’s good to see you,” Harper said, rewarding him with a smile that made his stomach turn. He’d seen that same smile after the victory on shipping station. He’d also seen it just before he executed someone. Harper was one of the few people that made Dan Moretti squirm.

Moretti hid his inner qualms and smiled at Harmony’s leader.

“Sir, for the sake of Harmony,” Moretti said, holding his hand up.

“For the sake of Harmony.” Harper returned the gesture and waved him over to a couch. Moretti sat, feeling it move to contort to him. The couch must have been a CEO’s.

Harmony might be all about sharing everything with the regular people and the troops, but the leaders don’t really seem to feel that same pinch, Moretti thought. It wasn’t an angry thought, just an analyzing one. It was how it had been with the CEO’s in control, just with torture and more draconian rules that limited the people in every way. That was the difference between Harmony and the corporations. Harmony looked to infuse themselves into the people’s lives. Using doctrine and teachings that they pulled from thin air, they looked to change the people’s minds to respect those that believed as they did and utterly hate those that didn’t. There was no middle ground with Harmony. The corporations didn’t care what people did with their personal lives as long as they met their profit margins and production levels.

Harper waved to one of his aides that was hanging around.

“A drink for myself and Mark,” Harper said.

Moretti didn’t know why he liked calling him Mark. Maybe it made him feel as if he was in control. He didn’t care. It annoyed him sure, but there were so many things that annoyed Moretti about Harper it barely mattered at this time.

Moretti took the offered glass with a short thank you and took the time to look around the room. It had been a working office of some kind. Now it had been turned into an area dominated with screens and massive touch tables. People moved through the room wearing identical blue coveralls to Harpers.

They were proud and they were good at their job, this only made Moretti uneasy.

Harper looked him over as if evaluating him. Moretti let him and continued to look around the room, sipping what had to be a few thousand credits scotch idly.

“So…” He started, his eyes snapping to him. He seemed to pause, drawing Moretti’s attention in.

“We’re going to take the gas planet and its orbitals,” Harper said in calm measured tones, like a janitor would talk about cleaning an office building. Nothing new, just something that had to be done.

“Tell me your commands and I will see that they are done,” Moretti said, holding Harper’s gaze.

Harper’s face creased into a smile.

“I knew that you would be the right one for this task,” Harper said. Moretti faked embarrassment, sipping his drink to hide his actual scowl.

I wish that Nivad would just give me a kill order already.

Harper waved the aide back over, this time they carried a surface. Harper knew how to make himself look powerful and like he had a handle on things. He also knew how to get people to do as he wanted. He was the perfect person for this uprising, which made Moretti and Nivad all the more interested in his hidden past.

The surface showed the gas planet in all it’s glory.

It was a paused screen, hiding the shuttles that were still plying their trade between the extractors refiners, storage areas and the asteroid mining colony.

Moretti hoped that the people out there were building up for Harmony.

“I will give you both of the freighters.You will bring the faithful into the arms of Harmony and help those that are unsure, to find their faith,” Harper said.

Moretti nodded, looking at the planet with new eyes.

I’m going to need to take the planet and try to get as many as possible to the asteroid belt to fight Harmony until the EMF get here, Moretti thought.

“I know that this will take time, but you have to complete it in a year,” Harper said.

Hope blossomed in Moretti’s chest.

“I’ll see to the preparations,” Moretti swore, If I can time this right… He thought at the same time.

“Very well I will let you get to it,” Harper said. Moretti rose opening his hand to him.

“For the sake of Harmony,” Harper repeated the saying and Moretti took the surface. He downed the remainder of his drink and gave it to the aide. He didn’t see the annoyed expression on their face as he wandered out, his mind starting to create plans.

First he needed to contact his true boss.

Chapter 15

Tower

Earth, Sol System

3/3240

“We have a message from them,” Dalia said, breezing into Nivad’s office.

“Ahh, Madame Sisola, we will have to continue our conversation at another time. Twelve percent is my final offer,” Nivad said, giving her a smile that never reached his cold eyes.

He cut the channel and gave Dalia a very different look.

With a command the door locked and sealed behind her. There was only one ‘them’ that would make her burst into his video-meeting. He did love to see CEO’s squirm.

Dalia didn’t wait for him to prompt her to talk.

“They’re going for the gas planet. They didn’t mention how long that they’ve been planning this and they’ve only given a rough timeline just in case the informations leaked. Though it looks like they will be using both freighters for the job.” Dalia stood in front of his desk as his mind worked.

“How many can they fit on the freighters?” He asked, looking to the fake wall of his office, seeing the system on his implants.

“About five million. They also aren’t running right into battle, they’re training them up before going,” Dalia’s voice tight as Nivad’s lips pressed together and he let out a slow, angry, exhale.

“There is a silver lining,” Dalia said, getting a nod from Nivad to continue.

“It looks like they don’t know about the status of Reclaimer, or that it’s on it’s way. With the proposed timeline both Reclaimer and Fearless will get to the system either while Harmony’s fighters are in transit, or when they have just reached the gas planet,” Dalia said, Nivad looked to her, nodding in appreciation.

“Our operative is also of the belief that this, ‘Harper’ is not originally from Masoul. His accent is a little off and his history is nearly nonexistent. It also seems that he is too perfect for the job to be spontaneous,” Dalia said.

Nivad interlaced all of his fingers except his forefingers which made a peak for him to rest his face against.

He felt a small smile grow on his lips. It had been ages since he had a good real game against a worthy opponent. It looked like there was a new player lurking out in the industrial sphere.

He needed information and quickly.

“Activate our other lead agents in the various spheres, have them go looking for Harmony and information on this Harper. If Harper is from a different system, then they might be doing the same to a new system already,” Nivad said. Dalia looked to her surface tapping away.

“Yes sir, I’ll see to it,” she said turning around, never stopping her tapping as she walked out of his office.

Chapter 16

Freighter Righteous

Gas planet, Masoul System

9/3240

“Sir, I’m seeing something on the scanners,” an aide said.

“Well what is it?” Moretti growled, clearly angry. The crew might think it was because they had taken such severe casualties as they moved through the orbital facilities, various collectors, and refiners. No that made him pretty damned happy.

It was the fact that they had even got to the Gas Planet that pissed him off. He had timed his journey to meet up with Reclaimer as it continued its flight to Masoul. Though it seemed that the timing had been off and he had spent three months watching as Harmony moved through the stations.

“A power signature,” the aide said. Moretti stood from his chair and marched over to the console, pushing the aide out of the way as he looked over the information.

Fearless must have survived. His anger from a moment before change to excitement and then dread in the space of seconds.

I need to get the fuck off of this ship and get as many Harmony fuckers in space for their cannons.

The dread did him good to make his reaction seem realistic.

“Recall all of our fighters and prep for immediate departure for Masoul actual.” People looked at him in askance.

“Do it!” He barked, the ingrained fear of going against Harmony pushing them to work.

He sent a message to Harper, detailing that he believed the EMF had arrived and that there looked to be a single carrier. He hid it in the message logs and sent it on a route that would take days instead of hours.

“You three,” he pointed to three guards on the bridge. “You’re with me, we’re going to get our people back. The rest of you focus on getting this ship ready to go as fast as damned possible.”

“What’s going on?” Someone asked, a blonde man with scars on his face.

“The fucking EMF are here,” Moretti said.

“We can fight them, show them the power of Harmony!” The blonde said. A shot rang out, Moretti’s E-12 smoking as he walked over to the now dead blonde.

“Don’t you ever fucking question my orders or my faith in Harmony,” Moretti spat on the man, raising his hand over the man.

“For Harmony,” he said, others echoing the words.

“I want every pilot out there bringing our people back, now!” He marched out of the room, the three guards following him.

It wasn’t long until he got to a fueled inner-system freighter clamped and attached by airlock to the hull of the ship.

He pulled his mask on, the others following suit, his rough spacesuit held as the airlock depressurized.

He jumped, gravity turning to microgravity as he dragged himself through the airlock and into the freighter.

“You three make sure everything’s locked up,” Moretti continued to the cockpit. He typed out a message, changed the transcoder in a way that no one but those on a very specific band would recognize and that many didn’t know existed.

He slotted a data chip into the freighter’s computer adding its contents to the file and sending it. He keyed the cube to destruct. It smelt of ozone and heat fizzing slightly. Some melted substance fell out from it as he threw it under the opposite console.

“How are we looking?” Moretti asked the three that were still messing around in the cargo bay of the ship.

“Good sir, the airlock isn’t disengaging,” one of them said.

Moretti input some commands and the freighter sagged slightly.

Idiots unclamped the landing feet before the airlock.

He was half a mind to shoot the morons. Instead he checked fuel levels and pushed power to his engines.

“Hold onto your lunches, this is going to be one hell of a ride.” Moretti pushed away from the freighter and aimed his bow straight at the gas planet. He needed a cover story and simply running away when the freighters were still warming up was not an option.

“Got to risk it for the biscuit,” Moretti said, pushing the power higher as adrenaline and fear drove his mind.

Chapter 17

EMFC Reclaimer

Moving to Gas Planet, Masoul System

9/3240

“Captain it looks like the intelligence was right. The Harmony freighters are powering their engines from full stop. The transports are racing down to the planet in order to gather their forces and pull out,” Lieutenant Denaski said from her position at tactical.

Captain Leonard Conti, hid his smile at Lieutenant Denaski’s obvious excitement. An Earth’s Military Forces Carrier had not been in direct engagement in five hundred years after the rim-ward fiasco.

He knew that General Wai would want to recover those Freighters no matter what, their worth was more than Conti could count on his and his crews fingers and toes.

“Captain, what do you want us to do?” Denaski asked. Conti held up a hand asking for patience.

“We have twenty minutes until we’re in engagement distance Leanne,” he said with a weathered smile.

He stroked his beard in contemplation.

The target coordinates had done well to make sure that the EMFC’s would be behind the planet as they crept into the system.

Otherwise they would have never got so close.

“Captain Ozols, would you and your crew be able to keep this track, coming in along the freighters and destroying any ships trying to reach them?” He said, on a channel to Fearless’ captain of the watch.

“Certainly sir, what will you be doing?” Ozols asked respectfully. She was a new Captain but a solid one.

“I will use the planet’s gravity to swing around, destroying any ships coming up from the planet’s surface and join your little shooting exercise closer to the planet’s atmosphere,” Conti said, drawing out his idea on a holographic model and sending it to the other captain. After the maneuver they would both be shooting into the direct path to the freighters. Hopefully they’d catch any ships trying to pull out Harmony members to the massive ships.

“I agree with the plan, but if I may suggest using the EMP warheads against the freighters as soon as their engines start working? Don’t want them getting away,” Ozols said with a wicked edge to her voice. She had become captain after the other watch crew had been killed and replacements were needed.

“I believe that would be a fine addition. I will also be sending word to my medical staff to begin the revival process immediately. I don’t want anyone trying to board my ship,” Conti said, sending his rough drawings to the navigator who would turn the idea into truth.

“Having a few hundred thousand troopers running around might not be a bad idea at all,” Ozols said, her voice dark. She was probably seeing the same images of Harmony’s vessels clamping on to the surfaces of the carriers. The heat signatures told of the breaches they’d opened up in the freighters hull to gain entry. If they could do it to a freighter, then they could to it to a carrier.

“I will have my communications officer make sure that our battlenet is secured. Let’s see about hunting some Harmony bastards,” Conti said.

“Damn right sir,” Ozols replied.

“Lieutenant Neves, make sure the medical staff are working to revive the troopers and make sure the armories are opened,” he said, pausing.

For the flight crew it had been three and a half years since they left Fearless, to the rest of the universe it would be four years. For the troopers, it would be minutes.

Conti sometimes wondered just why in the hell he’d applied to be a carrier captain.

“Understood,” Neves said.

“Also, make sure no one starts pressurizing areas of the ship we don’t want pressurized, don’t need a blow out,” Conti said.

“Yes sir,” Neves said, waiting a few seconds longer than necessary to make sure the Captain had nothing else to say.

Conti found Denaski looking at him with a strained expression, he smiled, drawing the moment out longer.

“Very well Lieutenant Denaski, power weapons and prepare for combat. I want reports on all systems.”

“Yes sir!” She practically yelled a bright smile cracking through her dark skin.

“Lieutenant Tamm, how are we looking on our course adjustments?” He asked his navigator.

“Already input the commands to the controls. Reclaimer is making adjustments as we go, time to engagement pushed back six minutes,” he checked his console briefly, “to twenty-four minutes.” He looked up to the Captain.

“Very good Lieutenant,” Conti said, rewarding the young man with a nod.

“Thank you sir,” Tamm admonished.

Conti looked to where the windows had been. Well they were still there, but they now had armor plates covering them both inside and out, with an extra band of armor on top. After seeing what had happened to Fearless, the captains of Reclaimer had agreed that not armoring the windows was just a bad idea.

Projectors showed more information than the windows anyway. They could also show the outside if needed. Right now they showed the mass of Gas Planet in front of the ship and their course around that bulk.

The carriers were based off of freighter designs. It was easier to keep the bridge in the same place than remake the whole ship with the bridge in the center. So they got windows instead of view screens. It also made them vulnerable as hell.

Company penny pinchers, Conti thought.

“Railguns are looking good, Seawhizz are online and functional. Only three railguns are bad and twelve of the sea whizz aren’t responding,” she said, talking about the main weapons and Close in Support Weapons Systems, shortened to Seawhizz.

“Very good, engage targets closest to the freighters and work down towards the ships coming up from the planet,” Conti said. The order was simple, the cold blooded logic behind it would make a number of people squirm in his seat.

Letting them go down and grab their people meant that there were more targets moving around. Waiting for them to try and get out of the planet’s gravity well made them easier targets. It also meant that they would be full of fleeing Harmony people. The more he killed in their light. The less the troopers had to fight and the faster they could be about securing this system.

It was damned cold, but to him Harmony was already dead. The EMF decreed it, and the EMF didn’t let people go. Even if Reclaimer and Fearless failed, more troopers and carriers were on their way and they would end Harmony.

“Targets are coming into range,” Denaski said, her eyes for her console only.

“Fire when ready, also see if the engineers and techs can’t see about getting more of those weapon systems online,” Conti said.

“Sir,” she answered her hands moving over the console with movements that came with years of practice.

Let’s see how that practice turns into reality, Conti thought as the railguns sent their rounds screaming towards the shuttles and freighters racing especially towards the larger freighters.

Tamm had the ship flip and go into a steady burn, there were no solar sails to help the ship, they were too delicate for combat.

With the ship only having one side filled with weapon systems, his flip turned them upside down. It didn’t matter to the computerized weapon systems.

They fired through out the maneuver.

“We have hits,” Denaski said, her excitement melted away into a mask of professionalism.

Conti felt pride towards her, then alarm as the rail cannon’s round didn’t just hit the intended freighter. It tore it apart, gouging deep into it’s unarmored hull. It looked like there was only a single hole in the ship, but Conti knew that kind of destruction must have been terrible. Atmosphere, flames and objects that could have been part of the ship, or the people in it were outgassed. Then it went up, the power plants careful equilibrium broken by the kinetic forces.

Other rounds landed, most with similar results. The ‘lucky’ ones didn’t turn into miniature stars.

“The Troopers are being woken up,” Neves reported, as the shock of the destruction they were reaping faded.

Fearless cleared the planet’s outer atmosphere and added their own fire into the mayhem. None of the Harmony ships had armor or more than simple machine guns. They valiantly tried to kill the EMFC but to no avail. They had armor and it would take millions of rounds to pierce their hulls.

“I have what looks like ships breaking of from the retreat and heading straight towards us,” Denaski said. “I’ll engage them with cannons and sea whizz,” her words turning to actions as sea whizz moved from their resting positions and fired tens of thousands of rounds at the oncoming ships.

“Neves, it might be an idea to tell the Troopers to hurry the fuck up,” Conti said.

“Yes sir,” Neves said, tapping something on his console before talking through his implants.

The sea whizz got through the shuttle’s outer skin, but their destruction was nothing like the rail cannons. They could take a number of hits and keep on. Their targeting changed and they aimed for the cockpits of the ships. A railgun finishing them off as they started drifting.

Conti opened his mouth to complement Denaski’s quick thinking. One look at her told him that his words would be more of a distraction than help.

“Welcome to fucking Masoul,” Denaski muttered under her breath. Conti didn’t know if she knew she’d said anything. Though he found no fault with her words. He was also feeling his ship in a way he had never felt it before, as the juggernaut of hellish fire and impenetrable armor that she was made to be.

If they get close enough, or get to our unarmored sides, it’s not going to matter what’s on the outside.

***

Mark got out of his cryo pod and it felt wrong. He fired up his implants, opening his important messages as he clawed his way down the spine. His legs were coming to life but they were taking their sweet time about it.

Though it was his fifth time coming out of cryo. He didn’t really have all that much understanding of it, or experience coming out of it.

Then his thoughts clicked together.

He realized what was wrong, the ship was shaking.

Which means we’re either attacking or under attack, or both.

He looked at the medics who were giving people quick checks before waking troopers up.

“Three section! Up and moving, we’re going to the armory,” Mark’s voice cut through the mumbling confusion of those around him.

He heard Jerome, Tyler and Zukic yell the same commands, all of them heading to the armories. It wasn’t a long walk and Mark’s augments got his body working by the time he palmed open his section’s gear panel.

“The hells going on Sarge?” Ko asked.

“We’re shooting on those Harmony fuckers. Seems the squids didn’t think to wake us before we came into contact and range where they can board us,” Mark said back, pulling on his vest and clamping it together. He’d been reading reports since waking up.

The word passed like wildfire and people shut up and got to the important business of getting their armor on and their weapons ready.

Warrant Haas and Second Lieutenant Wen came into the armories, ready to yell orders when they found their platoon already in their gear and making last minute adjustments.

“Sergeants on us,” Haas said, both of them turning to open their lockers and slap their gear on. Mark and Zukic being closest helped them get it on to speed the process up.

“What have you heard?” Wen asked as they pulled his armored shoulder plates tight to his arm.

Mark told him what he’d told everyone else.

“That’s about the gist of it,” Wen nodded, moving to make sure he wasn’t completely restrained by his armor. “Since we were woken up in the first batches, and we’ve actually got our shit together. We’re going right to the bridge. If Harmony gets on here, we’ll need the bridge to keep shooting the shit out of their ships,” Wen said hooking his arm covering armor on.

Haas was already done and moving about.

“Oi, fuckheads, get ready to move out, two lines!” Wen barked as he grabbed his rifle.

Kim continued to talk to his Sergeants as Wen made sure the rest of the platoon was ready to go. Making sure mag boots were on, they had space tape, extra batteries and air bottles.

“Unless the bridge or the surrounding area is breached we are the lowest of the low. Make sure your people don’t touch shit or get in the way of the command crew. If Harmony breaches, then protect their lives as if they were your own troopers. If they can do their job, we might be facing a hell of a lot less of these Harmony fucks then we would have, clear as mud?” He asked, looking to them.

“Yes sir,” they all replied, not with the quickness of ingrained reflex but of friends acknowledging their leader.

“Good, then let’s get moving.” Kim started for the door.

“Never understood that saying, ‘clear as mud’ dunno bout you but never found mud to be clear at fucking all,” Tyler ground out as Jerome haggled his people to get moving.

“Come on two section,” Tyler said getting his people after Jerome’s, all of them double-timing it out of the armories. More troopers were flowing in as racks opened.

Troopers flipped that little switch which made them stop being humans and turned them into weapons of armor, faceless helmets, E-12’s and repulsors. It was a reassuring sight to Mark, he didn’t think it would be so comforting to any Harmony prick that thought about trying to make an entrance.

People moved out of their way, flowing to the armories at a run. Other armed and armored platoons were heading off to the carrier’s strong points. Mark nodded to those he knew from being on the ship.

They passed through an airlock, exiting the spine and adjoining armories. There was no ambient noise other than their monotonous footfalls that resonated through the deck as they headed up to the bridge, which was in reality upside down from it’s usual orientation when in-system.

Mark hoped that the systems wouldn’t fail. He fucking hated free fall. He was good moving in it, but his guts and their contents, felt like they were being pushed out of his head.

They travelled through the officer’s equivalent of the spine, the carrier’s officers that is. Wen picked up the pace, getting some annoyed and angry looks. They probably wanted salutes and at least a few noses browned in their rears.

Then they were past and up where the elusive command crew lived. It was a lot nicer than the rest of the ship, but then they did spend anywhere from twenty-seven to fifty-two years between systems up here.

The command crew were wearing their full protective and sealed gear, teams of fifteen headed in various directions.

“Where are they going?” Mark asked Wen.

“In case the command crew on deck right now falls, we’re going to need replacements. Having them all in one area is not going to give us many fallback crew if Harmony gets to them,” Wen said.

They got the doors into the command deck Wen went up to the door as Haas started detailing people out to various locations.

“Weapons det, you’re going to be sitting pretty out here ready to shoot anything coming from either direction. Three, get in that room across the hall. You’ll be our surprise reinforcements, hold strong weapons det’s right flank. One and three you will be inside the command deck. Mark you’re in charge. Wen and myself will be here coordinating our efforts.

“One section, you will be support if we need it and making sure the command deck is secure. Qi, you will be with three section. If our people get hit, sort them out in the command deck. The doors will be closed unless support or wounded are moving around. Understood?” Haas asked.

Some were confused but they knew they’d piece it together or get put in the right spot. The command decks door opened to the bustling of the crew. They looked to the troopers with a mix of distaste, interest or barely acknowledged they were there.

Mark saw that they were all wearing their helmets and looked to be sealed up properly. This was acknowledged by the fact that no atmosphere had bled into the hallway.

There was one woman, all of her concentration focused on the console in front of her. Another officer was working the console from the other side.

“Looks like some of the fuckers are going to get through the sea whizz and rail cannons defense,” the woman said, her voice tight with anger.

“Neves, alert the troopers in the areas of where the ships look to be heading. Tamm could you help with figuring out where they’re going to breach?” The man who must have been the Captain said from his seat that was raised and close to the door.

“You take right side, I’ll take left,” Mark said to Tyler, they went about getting their people out of the way of the crew, dumping their ammunition packs and running through their checks they hadn’t been able to do on their rushed timeline.

“Seven have made it past the weapons front, they look to be heading for the hangars, and, us,” the man called Tamm said, he was looking up to the Captain. Mark caught the glance over to the troopers.

“Alright, looks like we have incoming on our position, looks like vacation is officially over?” Mark said.

“There was a vacation? Aww come on guys, why didn’t you tell me?” Dashtund complained, lightening the mood somewhat.

Mark moved up to a spare console and started manipulating it with his implants mirroring Tamm’s console.

“What are you doing, you’ll…” One of the crew yelled, coming over to reprimand Mark but stopped upon seeing that he had somehow mastered their prized console.

He fired the information off to Wen, looking to the crew member.

“Do you have a hatch to outside?” Mark asked.

“Why would you need to know that?” They asked, confused.

“Look here lieutenant! I am here to make sure that you and everyone in this room stays alive, helping instead of accusing and questioning my every move is going to help a lot more than being a useless fuck that would be more useful propping my door open!” Mark barked, he needed these people working with him and not against.

“Quan, see to their needs,” the Captain told the woman.

“Yes Captain,” Quan said, obviously not happy with the disrespect.

“This way, sergeant,” the way she said his rank made him doubt this would be the last he heard of this incident.

If we get out alive? Fun little saying that. Screwed if I do, and if I don’t it ain’t gonna fucking matter.

He followed her to the hatch, it was an airlock that looked like a closet with said hatch above.

“Ko, Niemi, grab some extra grenade mags and make sure Harmony thinks landing near the command deck is a bad fucking idea,” Mark said, picking the two skinniest people.

“Sarge!” They chorused, pulling extra mags from their bags, swapping out normal box mags and stuffing their pockets before climbing into the air lock. They opened up the hatch, there was no atmosphere to blow out behind them,

Their sensors served to update Mark’s on the platoon’s net.

They could see the blossoming balls of Harmony ships coming to meet the EMF’s firepower. They could also see a freighter coming in towards them.

“Incoming freighter, three o’clock from bow,” Ko said, his and Niemi’s grenade launchers were firing before the second word.

The grenades ripped holes in the armorless ship and things flew out, like the universes sick parody of a piñata.

The freighter’s engines fired and they dove away from Ko and Niemi’s fire.

They were the twosomes first customer, but not the last.

“Another, eight o’clock,” Ko called out an empty magazine dropping from the hatch as another was slapped in.

“Looks like they landed,” Niemi said another empty magazine dropping to the floor.

“Captain, I’m having an issue getting the information out, it looks like General Wai is still getting her officers sorted out,” Neves said, probably forgetting his was on the general channel.

“I am certain they will be online shortly,” the Captain said in a warning tone.

“Yes, certainly sir,” Neves said, obviously realizing his mistake. Mark opened up a private channel with the Captain who he found out was called Conti.

“Sir, I can relay that information to someone that will make sure it’s passed to the troopers to fend off our guests,” Mark said.

Conti looked to him as if weighing him, that same checking glance that all military types used when looking at the newer people joining their merry band.

“Very well, do it,” Conti said.

Mark opened a channel to Nerva, it was a lot shorter than he thought it might be before he was connected.

“Go,” Nerva said.

“I have someone here looking to relay all of the locations of the incoming boarders, can’t get the information where it’s needed,” Mark said, knowing Nerva was probably hellishly busy.

“Finally, send me his private channel I’ll get him sorted out,” Nerva said.

“Sir,” Mark bit off.

“And Mark, make sure that bridge stays safe,” Nerva said.

“On my life sir,” Mark said, surprised by the truth in those words.

“Good man,” Nerva answered, his voice tight with the weight of command and knowing what he had just commanded Mark, a man he saw as the closest thing to a son, to do.

“Niemi, what’s going on with that shuttle that touched down?”

“They’re too depressed for us to get rounds on them…”

“We have a breach from a shuttle touch down forty meters away,” Neves said into Mark’s helmet, he copied the sound byte and sent it to Wen.

“...I’d guess that...” Mark’s channel cut back to Niemi’s automatically.

“They’re inside, check to make sure none of them grew balls and took a walk along the carrier’s surface,” Mark cut her off as he talked to his and Tyler’s section.

“Yes Sarge,” she replied, climbing up the ladder she was braced against.

“Ishida, Sun, be ready to take their places and cover them if needed,” Mark said.

Ko followed Niemi, disappearing from view as Ishida and Sun ran up and started firing on any Harmony ships that came in too close.

“No sign of the enemy, looks like they’re all inside,” Niemi reported a few minutes later.

“Good, get back here on the double, Ish, Sun, be ready to get out of their way when they do. You’ll be their number twos if they need it,” Mark said.

“Got three flights coming in, Twelve, four and five,” Ko growled, giving it the beans with his grenade launcher, magazines dropped and flashes could be seen through the hatch. The lack of sound made it an eerie experience.

“Shoot that fucker,” Haas said, Mark saw the mini map go from green to blue to show the engaged friendlies. So far only the half-section facing towards the rear of the ship were firing. He knew that would probably change, the number of flights that Tamm predicted to land were now linked to the net. The flight paths headed for the bridge were climbing.

“Welcome to fucking Masoul,” Dashtund growled, the captain giving a half laugh.

“Exactly,” Conti said.

This is gonna be one hell of a fight, Mark thought.

Chapter 18

Combat Shuttle One-four-nine

Gas planet, Masoul System

9/3240

Yu knew that he was going through a rough wake-up.

He was the pilot and the defacto leader of Combat Shuttle one-four-nine.

Some idiot must have messed up the drugs because he was all kinds of fucked.

He shook his head and took a series of needles and put them into the port along his neck.

The IV inside his suit tapped his vein and his pounding headache subsided.

He knew he was going to pay for that later, but for right now he needed to be active.

“Fuck I hate go-go juice,” Yu said, tossing the spent needles into his leg pouch, having them floating around was a bad idea.

“Yeah, gets you going though,” Young said, looking over her screens to his right as his second.

They worked through the flight list in a number of minutes as noises came from behind.

“Good!” Bobbie their gunner and cargo master said, the cargo doors sealing.

“Flight control, One-Four-Nine good to go,” Yu reported as the last system came up green.

“Understood, cleared for launch,” Flight control said, sounding harried as they clicked off. The pad they were on descended, taking them to the armored blisters which allowed Combat Shuttles to leave and enter the carrier without opening the flight deck.

Yu powered out of the blister, red haloes filling their screens already being projected onto their reinforced crystal matrix that made up their screen.

“Alright Young, find me some targets,” Yu said.

“Be careful for what you wish for,” Young murmured.

Friendly contacts appeared from other blisters, coming together into wings as they came up under the carrier, to see Armageddon.

Reclaimer’s sides were a mixture of heavy cannons bellowing and metal storm Defensive turrets twitching into new positions firing millions of rounds into the darkness of space.

Those impacts showed themselves on the two freighters sides, their thin armor meant to stop meteors warped and blew out. Cannons hammered the civilian ships from both sides, Reclaimer and Fearless sending armor, atmosphere, and the freighters innards blowing out with every impact.

“Targets, two million K and closing,” Young said.

There was no need to bank and curve like Yu was in atmosphere, he simply redirected his engines and blasted towards the incoming contacts, taking in the battle being waged by the carrier and the smaller transports of the Harmony freighters.

Their tracers struck the carrier’s armored sides, missiles ripping from their launchers to be cut down with metal storm firepower.

Combat Shuttles formed up their pyramid battle formations without a single order. The Harmony pricks came in fat and happy, their firepower turning to the Combat Shuttles.

“Evading,” Yu said, over his battle-pyramid’s channel, one of their seconds had set it up.

The pyramid moved to get out of the way of incoming projectiles, it wasn’t hard, at this range they could see where Harmony’s rounds were going.

“Amateurs,” Bobbie growled.

“I’ll take amateurs any day of the week,” Yu said, looking over the display in front of him, anything that was capable of lifting people was doing so, grabbing them from the gas planet and hauling them to the freighters which were crash starting their engines in a panic to get away from the planet.

As the ships came up from the gravity well they were met with carrier firepower.

Whoever the Captains were they knew their shit, better to kill a ship filled with combatants instead of one with just a flight crew.

As the pyramids closed on the ragged line Yu had to start getting fancy with his maneuvers.

A CS went black on the plot, Yu grunted and danced across the skies, “Young, get me a fix on the fucker that shot three-two down,” Yu said.

Another shuttle went from green to yellow. The Troopers weren’t the only ones that had got the new display software.

“Three seconds,” Young said, watching missile targeting.

“Weapons green and good,” Bobbie said.

“Barrage of missiles, on my signal,” Dal, the impromptu leader of the pyramid said, “Fire.”

Missiles rippled from a dozen Combat Shuttles’ wings, accelerating lines tracked them.

The enemy mish-mash of ships reacted with panic, firing and diving, trying to put themselves behind their fellows, making them take the impact instead.

Lack of discipline and training for military operations put them at a disadvantage.

Combat Shuttles were like sovereign land, once they were in space, people could give them suggestions but they were master and commander of themselves. They worked well in groups, like a pack of wolves hunting prey, they were veterans of Sacremon and a handful of other uprisings. They had gone through the new training created in the lower ranks, they were the half that made the cut.

They knew their shuttles better than their own bodies, a thought many hadn’t believed possible.

That’s why when they got into range they weren’t just shuttles with guns on them. They were Combat Shuttles, machines of war and death.

Cannons ripped through the darkness of nothing, following on the heels of the missile barrage. Auto cannons added to the streams, their jobs to pin the enemy into a tight formation.

It worked, the outer edges were scared and moved in, to only find missiles racing into their forward sections.

Explosions ripped into the forward ships.

“Mark!” Dal called, another five tubes loosing their payloads.

Cannon rounds hit like sledgehammers, they smashed the ships, caving in forward sections and sending others into a spin.

Atmosphere and broken panels were left in their wake, Auto cannons stitched holes through their enemies thin covering.

The ship that had taken out Combat Shuttle Three-two was now drifting scrap.

Yu dodged heavy weapons fire, moving into lighter fire, the hail on a tine roof noise of rounds impacting his shuttle made his grim determination turn into a grin.

“Oh shit,” Young said, seeing that grin.

Yu punched more power to the engines and he did what fighter pilots had done for hundreds of years, he danced his fucking ass off.

The Combat Shuttle might be a twenty-ton machine, in Yu’s hands it was a ballerina, with big ass fucking guns and missile racks.

“WOOOH! THAT’S WHAT I’M FUCKING TALKING ABOUT!” Bobbie said, Yu could feel the rounds as they were spat into the Shuttle’s hungry chambers.

“Break!” Dal said, the Pyramid of massed fire opened like dust thrown in the wind.

Young fired missiles, Yu worked the Cannons, Bobbie used the turrets with Young jumping in when she wasn’t finding missile targets.

Missile lock warnings came through Yu’s helmet.

He sent himself into a spin jinking weaving and tumbling in a way that would have torn the shuttle apart in atmosphere.

Flares fired, but there were too many and they were gaining.

“Flipping!” Yu said, a burst of thrust had them facing their rear, their cannons and auto turrets got the last three, the last was close enough to pepper the hull with some debris.

Yu flipped again and headed for a new target.

It wasn’t the first time they’d battled missiles, and Yu had been doing this long enough to know that there would be more.

They came across a larger in-system freighter; someone had slapped turrets to the thing on all four corners.

Young let loose two missiles, the turrets diverted their attention from One-four-nine, they got one, but the second exploded sending burning hot metal shards into the freighter.

It turned into a nuclear furnace as Yu raked a new target with his cannons.

“Tail,” Young said as rounds could be heard on the rear of the shuttle.

Yu banked, something he didn’t need to do in space, and something that space-pilots didn’t think of, why bank when they could simply turn in the direction they needed to go and apply thrust.

Yu’s gamble paid off as the VIP quick shuttle tried to change to meet their new course but over shot.

Yu used thrusters, still ‘banking’ in space, putting Young and Bobbie on target.

Tracers connected the shuttle with their target. Rounds disappeared into and reappeared on the other side of the quick shuttle.

The back end of the shuttle burped flame and the shuttle drifted.

The note of hail on a roof changed as the shuttle shuddered with an impact.

Yu was reacting as soon as the sound started, there was another sound, this one further back.

“Find me that bastard,” Yu said.

“On HUD,” Young said.

“Got a new fucking skylight in my fucking cargo hold! Clipped the rear flaps too,” Bobbie’s voice hot and hard.

Yu found his target, turned and fired three missiles at the in-system freighter, it had a cannon and two turrets.

Yu broke off and ran, the thing had the angle and good gunners.

The missiles took out their wannabe designer. Young was finding a new target as Bobbie and Yu hammered anything not flashing a friendly IFF.

The skies were target rich and this was the shit they lived for.

Chapter 19

EMFC Reclaimer

Gas planet, Masoul System

9/3240

Jerome could see the flash of the repulsors firing and the incoming rounds and feel the floor shaking with them. They’d cut tables free from their bolts, slapping them together to make barricades for Zukic’s section to hide behind. They weren’t the best but Harmony’s shitty weapons pinged off of them or didn’t make it more than a few layers deep. Any of the shooters that had the time to take a pot-shot were riddled with holes.

That wasn’t to say no one was getting hit, people were going down, red, yellow and the rare black, they needed support and soon.

One of those black markers was Kim, Wen was now in command of the platoon with Haas as his second.

Jerome and his section focused on pulling the wounded in, filling in the gaps and helping Medic Qi to get the injured back on the line or out of their red status.

A gunner went down, a round nicking their throat between the helmet and armored shoulders.

Jerome grabbed them, dragging them back, seeing the gasping motions.

“Neck hit!” Jerome yelled.

“Open up their side, get a valve going in their lung and get clotters in the neck,” Qi said, blood covering his arms as he looked at his most recent patient.

Jerome pulled his blade out, cutting the armor off, stabbing the person in the side, he pulled a tube with a valve in it and put it in the trooper’s side.

“You’re going to be fine, sorry about the stabbing,” Jerome said, grabbing clotting needles and sealing spray. He used the spray liberally and injected the clotters around the injury.

“Should have been a fucking medic,” Jerome said, the extra training had brought his rudimentary skills from barely useful to knowing a medics bag intimately, he would make a good assistant.

He applied sealant to the tube, making sure the opening was free and attached an oxygen bag with a drain.

Blood came out, oxygen went in. Supplying air directly to his lungs instead of going down his mangled neck.

Qi was next to Jerome, his hands checking his work.

“Well done,” Qi said, his voice cold and clinical. A glance to Jerome’s HUD showed that Qi hadn’t been as lucky with stabilizing the last wounded.

There was no air in the carrier and while it meant explosive blow out wasn’t going to happen, basic medical aid became magnitudes harder.

“Gonna need help,” Zukic said, an explosion blew a hole in the barriers and two troopers went flying back, both red with suit breaches.

“Dooks, Huang, Bair, you good to advance?” Jerome asked.

“Yes sergeant,” they said while other similar agreements came back. “Huang, Dooks, your fire team two, Bair with me, move!” Jerome pushed through the opening in the barrier, Bair on his trail.

Jerome held down his trigger, the advancing Harmony rebels were caught off guard as the enemy advanced on them.

Fifteen dropped under Jerome and Bair’s fire as if they had been punched by bloody battering rams.

“Covering!” Jerome called the rebels off balance and reeling.

Keep the pressure up no matter what, when the enemy is attacking they only expect you to defend. No plan survives engagement with the enemy, make the enemy regret ever hearing that rule. Nerva had pressed that into them as they went through his tactical lectures.

Dooks and Huang moved to Jerome’s left, firing.

“Covering!” Dooks yelled.

“Moving,” Bair yelled as Jerome reloaded, then he was up running, but then falling back down onto the bodies of dead rebels.Jerome fired a burst from his gun, sending a grenade around the corridor.

Jerome didn’t need to say anything as soon as he and Bair were firing, Dooks and Huang were moving up.

A few brave rebels tried to get a bead on them.

Blue and red blood flew from them, holes appearing in their thin space suits.

Zukic and Mark rushed up next to Jerome’s right.

“Zukic, Daniels, high-low on that corner,” Jerome said.

Zukic and Daniels got up and moved to the corner, another rebel peeked out, rounds smashing through their helmet, gore flowing back out of it.

Daniels kneeled as he went around the corner, Zukic stayed high, right above him.

Red Haloes filled the corridor and started disappearing.

Daniels was hit on his plates a few times, but they were there for this very reason. He didn’t even pause as a ricochet hit his inner forearm, cutting a groove in it.

“Dooks, Huang, Bair, stack up behind,” Jerome said, getting to his feet and moving behind Zukic and Daniels, the red halos were in chaos.

Zukic switched from shooting the E-12 to it’s grenade launcher with a pause so slight that Jerome barely believed it to have happened. The halls shook and red halos evaporated.

“Got you covered, move past,” Zukic said, he and Daniels watching the hall to make sure no surprises followed.

Jerome flowed around them, Bair, Huang and Dooks flowed with him.

Huang’s gun was also up and searching for threats while the other’s eyes searched for anywhere a threat might come from.

They moved through the dull grey painted and utilitarian hull. Handholds were on the walls and ceiling, and on the rubberized decking and various systems below their feet.

Explosions had blackened the dull walls, warped it in places and opened a hole into what looked like a storage closet to the right.

“Huang, Dooks, right, simo,” Jerome said as they closed the distance to the end of the corridor that turned into a T-junction.

“Rog,” Huang said, moving off of Bair’s back and pushed to the left wall.

“Set,” Jerome said.

“Set,” Huang agreed.

“Three, two, one!” Jerome called, they stepped out, facing down their respective corridors, no reds appeared.

“Okay we’ll pull back, throw mines into the bodies and the fucked up decking,” Jerome said, pulling back into the corridor.

Mines were thrown over the ground as they pulled back.

Daniels had a strip of sealant on his arm, as soon as the foursome were to their side, their weapons came up, covering their backs.

They sowed mines all the way to the corridor that ran outside the bridge.

Techs were covering their rudimentary defenses with spray-ite, a sprayed on version of cermite that bonded to everything. It turned tables into bullet proof walls, as long as someone didn’t hit it with something frequent or powerful enough to crack it.

Like a repulsor or E-12 grenade launcher.

Just like that shipment they’re supposed to have.

***

On the outside Nerva looked as calm and collected as ever, on the inside he was in the mind to walk up to the bridge and deck the Captain in the face. Maybe it was easy for him to get his people and his ship under control what with their cryo-pods being so close to the bridge, but it took considerably longer for troopers to get up, get into their gear and start moving. It took about a day for the after-effects of being in cryo to wear off.

Apparently Fearless’ troopers were up a few days ago, though it looked like they assumed the crew of Reclaimer were already awake.

Now’s not the time to be thinking of how we got here, it’s time to figure out how the hell we’re going to keep this ship, let the navy pound the fuck out of Harmony ships and then move to secure the facilities within the gas planet. Sure Nerva was just a Major in the grand scheme of things but Colonel Nyugyen would back his plan, and unlike other Colonels he was right with his troopers getting them into armor and moving.

There was also the minor fact the Nerva was the reason they had all got extra training. If there was something that the staff didn’t understand they went to Nerva. He might be a Major, but one that all the others looked to for the go ahead. The colonels other than Nyugyen were too far away for them to truly respect.

Thus Nerva was the effective commander of all Reclaimer’s troopers.

Thankfully a few words in the right medic’s ears and the higher ups were feeling like they had just come to after a month long binge. None of them were going to be very effective in the near future. Giving Nerva the time he needed to set up a defense.

The flight deck was becoming a mess; thankful the Captain had got his shuttles out in record time.

Open battles raged there, shuttles that hadn’t been deployed or were waiting on the deck were used as cover or more likely wreckage as troopers and Harmony fought across the large expanse.

Ortiz was acting as Nerva’s eyes and ears in that situation. Majors set to the task of moving their forces through to secure the deck.

That took up the bulk of the troopers, the second largest grouping was over the rest of the decks that were next to the hull, they were roaming, cutting off any intruders that made it inside the hull.

Then there were the special teams which were looking over the vital areas of the ship, from engineering to the spine where troopers were still emerging to the bridge.

Which was his current problem, he’d sent techs up there to help Kim’s platoon, they’d added fortifications but the techs on coming back had run into a new group of Harmony that were now heading towards the bridge.

Nerva had sent word but he didn’t have the forces he wanted to push through to the bridge.

They’re just going to have to hold out for another forty minutes, he thought, his face showing none of the guilt he felt.

“Reactor three is engaged,” Division Sergeant Major Dalton said from his side, they were using the mess as their command room, screens that showed television or sports now showing maps of the ship.

“I want to pool all our troopers coming out together right now. Get them organized and detoxed, once we have a Company strength I want them moving to the bridge and the rest being used as reserve forces. We’ve holed up most of the positions, I want to get their reinforcements in the best state possible,” Nerva said.

Giving them just a handful of minutes to get themselves sorted out more would make them much more effective than their brothers and sisters already fighting.

“So what are you going to do?” NIDenise said inside his mind.

“Going to fight, now help me figure out where those bastards are going to land so I can move my forces to hit them as they get on board,” Nerva said, talking without saying a word or moving a muscle.

Information overlaid his eyes, being beamed right through his optical nerves.

“Major Jeon, I’m getting reports of a ship coming in at this location,” he heard NIDenise say in his ear in his voice. She used his voice to relay information to various people, sometimes multiple at once while Nerva looked over the battle plan.

Between his visor being down and the mess lighting no one could see he wasn’t sending messages even though he was transmitting on four channels.

The Captain might have fucked them, but it was still up too Major Nerva to engineer some of their own luck.

Chapter 20

Tower

Earth, Sol System

9/3240

Nivad looked over the information coming in from the two carriers now in Masoul. They had done well to catch the freighters off guard, fueled with the information from the highly placed source in the Harmony delegation.

It was a big risk and play, but it looked like it might pay off.

Even if the source died Nivad was taking away their freighters and a good portion of their lift capacity.

The carriers’ cannons bellowed, metal storm tracers reached out to oncoming missiles and small craft.

Combat Shuttles mixed with Harmony forces and it now looked like a good number of the ships were just trying to flee instead of return to the beleaguered freighters.

It wasn’t all good, the Captain of the Reclaimer was a good Captain, he knew his ship, but he didn’t know the troopers within his hull.

They were still doing better than all of the other troopers Nivad had at his disposal, their training and gear was proving its worth. The fact that they had been woken just hours before the first shuttle tried to breach the carrier however was fucking them over.

If the Captain was able to pull off this little action, then he would forget his idiocy and make sure that someone reminded him to think of more than just his ship.

Nivad looked over the situation and Dalia’s personal reports.

Someone was backing this, it was too big of an action to be taken by simple colonists, he would find them and he would destroy them and everything they held dear.

This small uprising was already having ripples across the area. Nivad was diverting carriers towards the system.

The people of the EMF served for thirty-five active years. If he didn’t have anything for them to do then there wasn’t much use of having them up, walking around, earning money and eating food when they had no purpose.

Nivad had husbanded his strength, holding it back, having entire veteran carriers filled with troopers, pilots and all the rest, then stuck them in some out of the way location.

As new weapons and gear came along he would find a reason to send them to a station to be trained up on it, or better yet, learn how to use it in an actual uprising.

On paper he had twelve active carriers, in reality there were five times that in ‘limbo’.

Earth’s Military Forces were in the process of sending the four closest carriers towards Masoul and moving in another twenty to support.

Nivad liked to play with his targets, to have a battle of wills, but he was not one to let his simple enjoyment cloud the necessities of his position.

If his games failed, then he would use the EMF to grind Harmony into nothing.

He stood, checking the time and putting his suit jacket on. Meetings populated his time more than they had before Masoul, people were scared. Harmony had blown up Strike station.

When the dilutes information was released in a week that tension should calm down. Nivad’s feelers were out looking for answers.

Nivad allowed himself a small smile, he so did love the hunt.

Chapter 21

EMFC Reclaimer

Gas Planet, Masoul System

9/3240

Alexis was not happy, she was pissed. If that Captain ever showed his face down in trooper country, he would not be in for a good time.

Everyone was feeling like varying degrees of shit.

People were getting go-go juice they’d be up and running for nine hours, after that they were going to crash harder than if they slammed Reclaimer into an asteroid at full speed.

Minus of course the fact that when this whole ordeal was over, their headaches, cramps and pains would be there to stay.

Alexis wasn’t just pissed because Captain fuckhead fucked up, hell that was expected with the navy bags.

No she was pissed that she was armed, armored and ready, but they were all waiting until more troopers got out of the cold and were at least somewhat functional.

Oh, plus her boyfriend and the closest thing she had to brothers were up and trying to protect that same Captain dumbass.

Sometimes it just fucking sucks waking up, she growled, looking to her people.

There was concentrated moment and Alexis’ anger was filled with anxiety at the unknown, her senses telling her that orders were coming down.

“We’re heading for the bridge to support. Everyone on your feet, break down into sections and move. We’re not going to be pausing for anything, those boys and girls are getting hammered and they need our help.”

That didn’t make Alexis feel better but she got to her feet, checked her rifle, made sure there was a round in the chamber anyway. She was ready to kick some Harmony ass.

***

Captain Conti watched as holes were ripped into his ship as Harmony ship after Harmony ship scored hits on Reclaimer’s hull.

While the armor side rang with impacts, the unarmored side was getting holed up badly. The EMF in all of their economic bean counting had deemed every carrier to only have one side armed and armored. Saved half the cost, but fighting someone in space. Well no one had done that for centuries.

Shuttles and ships barreled into the flight deck from the unarmored side, plowing into waitign Combat Shuttles.

He had underestimated the number of fighters Harmony had and the troopers were paying for it.

Explosions rippled through the view screens which were showing the outside of the carrier.

Conti gripped his armrests with white fists ad  one of the freighters finally get power to it’s main engines.

Something must have given way as explosions ripped through the massive craft.

“Concentrate fire on the second freighter and the fleeing Harmony forces,” Conti said, looking to the troopers as the two that had been looking out of the hatch dropped to the floor and the main door opened.

Tracer fire rushed past the doorway, troopers firing back into it.

Half of the group rushed out of the bridge and headed to support their fellows.

“We need them here!” Conti said, getting nervous about that hatch and people coming up from behind. He knew how to fight with his ship, but he didn’t know how to fight people up close.

“Don’t worry, we’re still here even though we don’t want to be, wouldn’t have this problem if you allowed us to wake up and get acclimatized.” The large one with Victors on his chest growled as people moved around, a few covering the hatch, the others prepared to rush out of the bridge’s door if needed.

Conti didn’t need to see the man’s eyes to feel the anger that was part of the young man.

He was the first to look away, he might be the Captain of Reclaimer, but he knew when it was better not to argue with the people that were looking to keep him and his bridge crew alive.

***

Mark looked away from the Captain, he might have added to his already growing list of problems with higher-ups, but right now he needed to focus on the immediate threat to his people.

The weapons detail had been hammered, the mines were still going off occasionally as rebels found one buried in the attackers that had come before them.

Warrant Wen was taking charge and Sergeant Haas had taken over the responsibility of the casualty area, freeing up Jerome to work with Zukic and watch both sides of the corridor.

Now they were fighting on two fronts and it was not going well. People on those lines were a mishmash of one or two greens with a sea of yellow and reds being hauled to the adjoining room.

Alvarez’s fresh section were being put to work, she worked Jerome’s side while Tyler helped out Zukic’s.

From the red halos that were disappearing they had killed more than their weight of rebels a few times over.

“Mark, going to need your ammo,” Wen said, Mark had been expecting the order.

“Understood, half or all?” Mark asked.

“Half, for now,” Wen said.

“On it,” Mark said.

Wen clicked off, the action showing his trust in Mark implicitly. Mark wasn’t a boot anymore, he could be trusted. Wen was putting his life and that of the rest of the platoons on his shoulders.

“Drop two ammo packs per fire-team, the rest of the platoon needs it,” Mark said, holding onto his as Dominguez and Ko pulled their packs off.

“Alright, those with ammo packs covering fire, those without, toss them to our people, ready,” Mark said, looking over them all as they moved to the door, throwers ready to toss and move for those behind them. Those with their packs still on their backs with their weapons raised. Three, two, one!” He hit the command to open the door, packs were thrown towards the two lines on either side of the doorway.

Mark opened up with his E-12, the recoil thudding into him as he let out quick short bursts centered on red halos in his vision. Even without atmosphere he ‘heard’ the battle through the decking, grenades went off amongst the rebels as rounds thudded into the sprayed barriers.

It was hell, it was brutal and terrible, and it was the biggest adrenaline rush that Mark knew to get. It was his drug, what he had trained for and lived to do for most of his life.

This was where warriors lived.

His gun jammed he ripped the bolt back, there wasn’t time for anything fancy as he ducked behind the wall for cover.

A round came tumbling out and he was shooting again.

“Ammo out!” Dashtund Tal said, as the last back thudded into the deck. Mark and the other shooters pulled back, the door closing them off from the rest of the platoon.

“Shit,” Lieutenant Tamm said on the channel that linked Mark’s section and the bridge staff together.

Mark was looking to his tactical overlay, seeing that two of his people were now yellow instead of green.

Niemi and Bale had been winged by shrapnel from the rounds, their wounds were minimal, they were already looking after themselves, their fire team looking to see if they could help in any way.

“Fucking shit, looks like they have the fourth of July going on in there,” Dashtund said.

“Fourth of July?” Ko asked unable to stop himself.

“A celebration held before unification by America, not the continent, the country,” Dashtund said. Not even trying to drag out the answer, they were all tired and feeling like shit.

Though none of them were going to complain, half the reason they felt like shit was because their Platoon brothers and sisters were fighting for their lives just centimeters away.

“Reinforcements are on their way, we just need to hold out,” Wen said.

Sounds so simple, Mark thought, checking his gear.

“Alright I want everyone ready to go, if those reinforcements come in behind the rebels then we’re going to have to be the anvil they smash these bastards into,” Mark said, most would have felt shivers go down their spine at the quiet violence in his voice, the bridge staff did, the troopers nodded in understanding, feeling a little violent themselves.

***

“Fuckers,” Alexis said, jumping for cover as Rebels fired down the corridor her platoon was walking up.

She wasn’t down for long, rolling, and getting her gun around the doorway she was hiding in, her gun bucked as grenades made the deck vibrate.

It felt like a bare quiver but a glance around the corner showed Alexis the truth.

She’d been advancing up a corridor that looked identical to any other in the ship.

Black decking, grey walls fluorescent white paint on the walls stretched the length of the ship, broken up every twenty meters with crossing corridors and hatches leading to all manner of rooms from quarters to lifts.

The crossing corridor’s corner the rebels had been shooting from was gone, the wall shredded and melting from the grenades impact.

Alexis saw her fellow troopers up and walking towards the corridor, their weapons up and scanning for targets.

She flowed with them, her gun pointed at the corner.

A rebel stepped out, a dozen E-12’s opened fire turning them into a pulped mess.

Several more stepped in from behind them, a grenade hit the first in the chest, the troopers firing into the mass.

The explosion was silent but it blew most of the ground to shreds, they hadn’t even stopped as E-12 rounds hit them.

The Troopers put them down with prejudice. Someone got to the corner before Alexis, they thumbed a grenade, whipping it down the corridor, there was a slight sensation in the broken decking.

Alexis and other troopers stepped into the corridor. E-12’s hit the dozen or so bodies on the ground.

They’d been hiding behind the corner, probably waiting for the troopers to appear.

One grenade and a bad day turns to your last, Alexis thought grimly as they moved onwards.

The fight to get to the bridge was a long one with over ten thousand troopers, the equivalent of a full force, spread out across decks heading from controlled areas to clear up to the bridge, making a supply line to their rear.

Troopers moved up, weapons trained wherever a threat might present itself. It was slow work, sealing the hatches as they went, ready for any rebels they might run into.

“Sixty meters and three decks up and you’ll be at the bridge,” Nerva said through the Force’s earpieces.

The troopers picked up the pace without racing forward.

***

Mark watched the red and yellow dots moving around in the corridor just meters away.

Too many black dots littered his HUD.

All of their extra ammunition had been pushed out to them.

“Mark we need your section, leave a fire team to cover the bridge and get the rest out here,” Wen said, his voice wet and catching, his yellow blip telling the rest.

“Understood,” Mark said, cutting the channel.

“Mcnara, Dominguez, Ko, hang back, rest of you on me, the rest of the platoon needs us,” Mark said.

His troopers rose or moved from where they’d waitedHunger, fatigue, it was all washed away with a pull of the trigger and the whizz of incoming rounds.

Adrenaline powered them and training dictated their actions.

Weapons  and kit were checked by practiced hands.

They weren’t happy, they weren’t sad, this was their duty and their brothers and sisters were out there.

“Troopers till the end,” Mark said.

“Fuck ‘em,” his section responded, if you weren’t a trooper, you weren’t anything.

Dominguez and Ko stood at the hatch, Dominguez’s hand over the hatch’s control panel.

Mark nodded to her, the section ready behind him.

“Split to the nearest cover and help as you can,” Mark said, the doors opened, showing the tracer filled air and rolling explosions that shook the deck, opened corridor and melted metal.

Mark was already moving, running out the door and firing his grenade launcher at the rebels to his left.

A green went black as they cleared the hatch.

Mark couldn’t dwell on that as he jumped and rolled through spent casings and used magazines. He hit the defenses.

He found a murder hole and put his muzzle through it.

The corridors didn’t look anything like the clean clinical lines from before.

The corridor went for about a hundred meters in either direction and Rebels were all up and down it. They used corridor corners, open hatchways, holes that had been blown through walls.

Red halos shimmered behind walls and bodies littered the ground.

You could walk the length of the corridor, never touching decking.

Mark took this in with a moment and started firing on the red halos. A few rebels pulled back, gearing themselves up and firing on the defenses with abandon.

Mark felt pain down his left side, a round had clipped his ribs and plates.

A red line spread down his side. He laid down, tracers ripping above his position as he grabbed sealant and sprayed it over his wound.

The pain told him that at least one rib wasn’t broken but had been turned into dust.

He stowed the sealant in a mag pouch, he felt he might need it soon enough, his rifle going back into it’s murder hole, tracking targets and firing on them.

I hope those reinforcements hurry the fuck up, Mark thought, knowing that his platoon was at their limit and the rebels were advancing down the corridor, using broken walls, decking and bodies to move up.

It was a matter of time until they reached the line. Mark put them down as he could, but some were too fast, or there were too many of them moving to get a good shot.

One made it to the barricades, they jumped over only to be hit by a hail of rounds, tossing them back.

“Close combat!” Wen warned, devolving into wracking wet coughs. His yellow light turned to red.

“Fire all you’ve got,” Jerome barked.

The rebels taken by their first man’s heroics were now rushing forward.

Troopers stopped trying to conserve their rounds and started firing on full auto, lines of tracers tossed rebels back, blood and gore marking the E-12’s impacts.

The rebels were thick and the troopers didn’t have much ammunition, guns clicked empty on their last rounds, pistols, grenades and melee weapons came free of their holsters.

Mark saw as more reds and black dots were added, a round skimmed his calf he fell screaming.

Sealant was sprayed on his leg and his augments worked overtime to fill him with painkillers, hormones, adrenaline and endorphins.

He got up, his empty gun falling to the floor as rebels crossed the barriers, he grabbed the pistol across his chest and started firing, backing away from the barricades.

“Pair up!” Wen barked.

Mark and Jerome went back to back. Mark tossed his empty pistol, staring at the rebels, the gunfire had stopped, even the rebels didn’t want to shoot their own people.

Mark and Jerome’s hands flicked to their sides, blades dropping into their hands. Mark and Tyler had taught Jerome all they knew about fighting with the deadly blades.

A rebel came into Mark’s reach their savage blade coming down at Mark.

Mark stepped into the attack, punching the kid in the face, with his left, stunning them, they didn’t even have time to stumble back as Mark’s right blade stabbed into his neck and ripped out of the front.

Mark saw the familiar panic, the pumping blood that colored his armor and clothes.

He was Diablo, he wasn’t graceful, he was savage.

Two rebels moved into range, Mark kicked, one giving him room as he moved into the second like a boxer. They slashed wildly, eager or scared he couldn’t tell which, it didn’t matter.

Mark moved in, his blades coming in fast and hard, the rebels didn’t have armor. The blood was only starting to come out of the rebels wounds as they fell, Mark turned and slashed the first opponent’s arm, kicking their knee and driving his blade through their ribcage, getting their heart.

His blade was out as he spun kicked another attacker in the head, using the momentum to jump to his other foot, the blade in his left hand spun from between his fingers to along his forearm as he drove it into a rebel’s helmet and temple.

It came free as his right darted into the one he'd kicked in the head.

Fighting was a mix of reactions, instincts, training and movement.

A part of his mind felt rather than saw a change in the rebels, along the other barricades the fighting was cruder and some were turning away from Mark’s platoon.

Interesting, but not useful to him as he stabbed a rebel in the leg, severing the artery. He shoulder barged them out of the way and stabbed the two behind them in the sides.

A blade sparked off of his armor. The one to his right didn’t go down, he stabbed their leg making them bend in, his blade came up and opened their neck.

Mark and Jerome touched backs, feeling one another panting as they faced their enemy. Their augments fought to clear out their cryo-addled brains and their helmets forced a mix of air and chemicals into their lungs.

They didn’t get long to rest. Rebels saw an opening and came at them. Mark and Jerome pushed off of one another and hit the Rebels, trading blows, blades and injuries.

At that moment neither Mark nor Jerome cared about their own lives, they fought for one another, if they went down then the other might.

They might be rebels but they had been the head honchos in Masoul, used to their power. They hadn’t fought to live everyday. They expected people to do as they said.

Guns and fear enforced their strength. Mark and the Troopers were born in a different furnace and honed by professional killers.

Panic and fear might fuel both sides, but the troopers knew their old friend and channeled into it with deadly effect. Melee weapons of all kinds were used, the decks were turning red with blood.

Mark saw Tyler and Dooks moving to support his line, he glanced to his HUD as he pulled out of a rebel’s blade. It showing the incoming reinforcements now flowing over the barricade and reinforcing the troopers.

New energy and hope filled him as he kicked his attacker in the junk, punched him in the helmet and stabbed where their neck met their shoulder.

They continued their path to the ground, life leaving them in spurts of blood, adding to the stains on Mark’s armor.

***

Nerva watched the fight with cold detachment, the bridge would hold.

His eyes fell on Mark, Tyler and Jerome. They were covered in blood, years of fighting and training had honed their reactions.

He was proud of them.

“Rebels at reactor four,” RSM Dalton said.

“Move reinforcements to them. How are we looking on the flight deck?” Nerva said, switching his feeds from the bloody corridor outside the bridge.

“The Combat Shuttles are stopping them from getting close. Most of them are low on ammo and fuel. Major Jeon was hit, he’s red. Major Ciao has taken over. They’re working on clearing instead of just holding. The deck’s pretty fucked up.” Dalton was not happy.

“What is the space battle looking like Lieutenant Gula?” Nerva asked the navy officer that was the liaison between the carriers and Nerva.

“Most of the Harmony ships are racing for Masoul actual. There aren’t any more ships coming from the planet. One freighter destroyed, second drifting, engines aren’t firing and power seems to have gone out,” Gula reported.

“What about the Combat Shuttles, are they engaged with Harmony forces between us, the freighters, or planet?” Nerva asked.

“No, they’re chasing the Harmony ships heading for Masoul,” Gula said.

“Get them back here and helping to get rid of the last ships fighting here. I don’t want them out there low on ammo and fuel,” Nerva said.

“I’ll pass on the recommendation,” Gula said. He would have refused passing on what sounded like an order to flight control earlier. After seeing the power Nerva wielded and the way the troopers jumped to do his bidding. Gula didn’t have nearly as many reservations.

“Dalton have the remaining units move to the clearing patrols, commit all our forces, let’s take back our ship,” Nerva said.

“Yes sir,” Dalton agreed, his gravelly voice making it low and hard.

***

Alexis moved through the fighting. Troopers and Harmony rebels were fighting off in groups all over the place.

Her section moved over the first barriers.

“Form a line, reload rifles!” The order came, Alexis’ HUD showed her rifles magazine was full.

Orders were passed and troopers disengaged from their fights.

“Fire!” Alexis and her section, shoulder to shoulder fired into the rebels just a foot away.

The rebels were simply cut down, helmets, torsos, chests and limbs were pulped as E-12’s and repulsors swept their ranks.

It was a slaughter, the section moving forward by inches, shooting right into the rebels.

Here and there a trooper went down, they were whisked off as another trooper took their position and fired.

“First rank, kneel, reload!” Someone yelled, the row behind Alexis let loose a hail of tracer fire and moved past.

Lines of troopers moved past her.

She reloaded and looked for a familiar set of armor.

She found it slumped against another trooper, both of them covered in blood with puffy sealant over wounds.

She ran over fear clawing at her as the helmet moved.

Please be alive! She thought, fighting tears.

His hand raised weakly, she fell to her knees embracing him, blood transferred from his armor to hers.

“Hey babe,” Tyler’s said, his voice was weak, like he was fighting not to pass out.

She didn’t have words for her relief, wishing they were free of their armor so she could hold and kiss him. Tears flowed over her face as she checked his wounds.

She looked up to the heavy thumping. Mark walked out of the supply room that the platoon had been using as a casualty area, medics were working on various people, blues were appearing as people were put into portable cryo-units.

Alexis forgot what she was doing as she saw Mark, his armor was covered in blood and gore. He reloaded his rifle, looking for targets.

“Alexis,” He said, lowering his rifle.aid in.

“Thought you might need a hand,” She said.

“Thanks,” He said, relaxing.

“You okay Mark?” Jerome asked.

“Yeah, bit messy is all,” Mark said relaxing slightly, apparently he was feeling the area was safe enough.

Bodies were piled all around, troopers and Harmony fighters intermingled, draped over barricades and slumped on decking.

Jerome grunted in response. They’d been fighting for three hours, but without any confirmation that they’d survive. Alexis knew that fighting like that could drain a person.

“Wen?” Tyler asked, shifting against her legs, revealing more sealant which she checked with a glance.

“No,” Mark answered.

Alexis could see the effect of the word on Tyler and Jerome, their forms dipped visibly in understanding and sadness. She didn’t need to see their faces to understand their emotions.

***

“Shit,” Young said, looking out of the main windows at Reclaimer’s armored doors.

Only a few were open, the others were a mess of impacts where ships had crunched into the doors, or made it through.

Rounds had punched through and missiles had left gashes in their surfaces. Entire sections had been opened to space.

Yu took their shuttle through the hangar doors, they had a few hundred rounds left for their auto-cannons, their systems were a mix of yellow and reds.

If anything the actual flight deck was worse than the armored doors.

Combat Shuttles that had never left the deck were broken hulks. The fighting had been fierce, walls were marred with bullet holes. Spent shell casings and bodies showed where the troopers and Harmony forces had fought.

Troopers moved their wounded into the heart of the carrier while flight crews moved broken Combat Shuttles out of the way and set to guiding arriving shuttles in.

Yu followed his flight plan coming to settle down on the deck.

“Cutting engines and power, opening maintenance hatches,” Yu said.

Young worked her screen as various parts of the shuttles armor opened for the flight crew that were already moving to work on the Combat Shuttle.

“Powered down and hatches unlocked,” Yu said, seeing that a few hatches hadn’t opened up.

“Clear,” Young said.

Yu sat in his chair, looking at the Harmony ships that were sprawled across the deck, bodies spread from their doors to various cover.

Holes stitched the walls, the flight deck was littered with impact craters where grenades had gone off.

One of the Harmony shuttles had been hit in it’s cockpit, from the gouges in the deck it looked like it had tumbled a few times before slamming into a Combat Shuttle and bursting into flames. It’s yellow and grey paint was blackened with the bodies around it, they were barely recognizable as human.

The flight deck’s crew had heavy machinery out which pushing Harmony bodies and craft out of the open armored doors.

“Let’s get a beer,” Bobbie said, he had been standing at the hatch for some time, staring at the sheer destruction.

“Yeah,” Young said, pulling her harness off.

Yu followed suit, feeling damn tired.

They trudged out of the cockpit. Yu saw the jagged hole that had pierced their cargo hold, there were a few more holes, but none as big.

Bobbie pressed the button for the ramp to open.

It dropped about half an inch before locking out.

Bobbie made a frustrated noise, opening the hydraulic panel. Rounds had pierced the system sending hydraulic fluid everywhere and destroying the command circuits.

“Well going to have to do this the old fashioned way.” Bobbie moved to the other hydraulic panel and he pulled and twisted something before grabbing the handles on the roof and kicked the ramp with all his strength.

The door tilted slightly and then released fully, clanging on the ground as hydraulic fluid squirted out of the second hydraulic panel.

The flight crew gave them dirty looks but Yu, Young and Bobbie were too tired to care.

They turned to look at their steed.

“Well fuck, looks like a goddamn mess,” Bobbie said as they walked around the craft, scorch Dents, shrapnel, bullet holes and dents covered the craft.

The wings had holes big enough for Bobbie’s fist to fit through and more bullet wounds on it’s armored panels, too many to count.

One of the flight crew was on the wings hitting a hatch with a wrench, the hatch was welded shut with the heat of a missile that was a bit too close.

Yu tapped the shuttle’s side with a fist, the old girl had brought them home and put up one hell of a fight.

Young and Bobbie did the same, taking in the sight for a few more seconds before heading towards the lifts. Troopers were throwing their help in with the flight deck, a few nodding to Yu and his crew as they passed.

They returned the gestures, two groups acknowledging the other’s efforts and capabilities.

It was one of the few times when they weren’t Troopers and Combat Shuttle Crew, they were all part of the EMF and Reclaimer was their home.

Harmony better watch the fuck out, we’re not going to take this lying down, Yu thought, names and faces passing through his mind’s eye, people that had gone on their last flight.

“I need a fucking drink,” Yu said.

“A-fucking-men,” Bobbie said, as they stepped in a lift, heading for the nearest mess.

***

Alexis grabbed medical supplies from a secondary med-bay, returning to Tyler’s quarters.

Armor made a trail into the showers, the flaky blood catching the water of the showers and coloring the water red.

People started coming out of the shower, Alexis scanned them, spraying open wounds and giving them injections to counteract cryo-sickness and the stim cocktail keeping them standing.

Tyler was among the last, there were cuts on his arms, sides and legs. Others helped out, allowing her to focus on Tyler as they helped the rest of their section get sealed up.

Few were talking, drained from the fighting and the cryo-sickness. The remedy would make them pass out for a few hours.

Tyler groaned and hissed with the closing wounds but he took the pain.

“Good?” He asked.

“Yeah,” she said looking over his body to make sure she hadn’t missed any wounds.

“Well let’s go check on the others,” Tyler said, walking to his locker and pulling on new smart clothes.

His movements were slow so he didn’t re-open his wounds.

They gathered medical supplies the section was sprawled over their racks, a few snoring already.

Tyler helped Alexis as they worked on two sections wounds.

Jerome followed them wordlessly, three section were already in their beds.

Jerome and Tyler got them up to make sure their wounds were good, most had bled on their beds a bit.

Mark was slumped on his bed in full armor still, red flakes of blood were all over his rack and floor.

Alexis pinched his armpit, he winced and moved.

“Get in the shower Mark,” she cooed, pinching him again.

He groaned and rolled over.

Jerome gave him a swift kick in his butt armor.

Mark groaned louder.

“Get up diablo, work to be done!” Tyler said.

Mark rolled out of bed and onto his feet. He was blinking and looking around.

“Nickname still works I see, go take a shower in your armor then get out here so we can seal you up,” Tyler said.

Mark grunted but stumbled off towards the showers.

Jerome went with him.

Alexis turned to sealing up the rest of the section. There were audible groans of pleasure as she injected the cryo-sickness aide.

Mark came back wearing just his boxers.

Alexis felt her breath come in a hiss.

Mark’s body was covered in scars, from the one in his stomach and lower back, to blade cuts, bullet holes, burns and shrapnel.

Tyler and Mark were a half-foot in size difference and two of the tallest people on Reclaimer. Unlike many tall people they had filled out, Tyler was a leaner build, but Mark was devoted to power. Corded muscles moved under the open wounds, burns ran up his side, there were clean patches of skin where his armor had stopped the heat from melting his skin.No less than two dozen wounds were open on his body.

Tyler, Jerome and Alexis went to work sealing them up.

“I wish you idiots used a different fighting style,” she growled.

“Take a small wound to land a killing blow, with our armor it’s less often that we have so many wounds, but then we’re fighting panicked people. Scared people can be worse than a trained killer. Their unpredictable and fueled with every fight and flight system their body has,” Tyler said, stepping back and admiring their handiwork.

“Can I go to sleep now?” Mark asked, his eyes screwed shut in pain.

“Yeah and we’ve got something for the headache, put some pants on,” Jerome said.

Mark grabbed pants and pulled them on lazily.

Alexis got two needles from her pack.

Mark slumped on his rack, the whole thing shaking.

Alexis stuck the needles into the port still in his neck.

“He looks like shit,” Alexis said.

“Yeah, killed over twenty people,” Jerome said, worry in his voice before leading the way out of the sections room.

Jerome disappeared off into his sections sleeping quarters while Tyler pulled Alexis into his and they curled up on his bed.

They kissed one another, just hours ago they were under the threat of dying. Each was lost in their own thoughts of what ifs and maybes.

It made them hold one another only that much more tightly.

Chapter 22

Landing City

Masoul Actual, Masoul System

10/3240

Moretti set down the freighter on it’s landing pad. It retracted into the station. They were taken through an air lock and into Shipping Station. Hatches opened, letting in cleaner air.

It had taken a week to get from Gas planet back to Masoul actual. The recycling system was pushed to it’s limits; forty people were breathing the air meant for twenty.

Not one of the most pleasant experiences.

Tired cheers came from the crew. They had survived where thousands of others had died.

Moretti peeled himself from his harness, looking at the water draining off the landing pad as it moved to a dock. People were already waiting for them. Moving onto the pad to help the wounded and assess the status of the craft.

They moved with interest rather than expertise.

Moretti had seen their work on other ships. He understood their people. The ships functioned, barely and the medics were just above average.

He pushed out of the cockpit, getting back slaps and thanks. Some that had embraced their death cried openly.

Moretti moved through it, letting the fatigue show instead of the hungry eyes that wished more of them had died on gas planet.

The EMF had arrived and Moretti was finally able to start pushing ahead with his plans. Gas planet had just been the start.

He got off of the freighter and headed towards the city.

Harper was waiting for him, a group of the better trained and drilled members of Harmony around him.

Harper was still wearing those janitor coveralls; part of the image he’d cultivated in an attempt to show him as one of the people.

“Moretti,” Harper said as if hearing the name for the first time.

“Sir,” Moretti said, bobbing his head, letting anger and apprehension enter his face. He needed to convince Harper he had nothing to do with the massive defeat Harmony had been handed. Even though it was mostly his brain child.

“We would have had the floating cities if we had just a few more days. I don’t know how those bastards were able to creep up on us. Those fucking asteroid miners must have let them know.” Moretti shook in what looked like anger, even though he actually wanted to laugh in the man’s face.

Harper studied him for a few moments before tapping Moretti on the shoulder.

“Your actions speak louder than words, I have heard of your actions,” Harper said, a thread of icy fear digging in Moretti’s gut.

“When the carriers appeared you gave orders to gather as many of our forces as possible and attempted a retreat back to Masoul. It is a hard thing to retreat but it was the right decision. We don’t have the fire power in Masoul to take down a carrier. You headed out in a freighter and rushed to our people’s aid. Seeing that there was no way for the dark space freighters to get their engines online you again gave the hard order, retreat if you could, attack the carriers if you couldn’t.” Moretti’s teeth ground together as the icy barb in his stomach disappeared and his breath came out of his nose.

“You did well, you are a hero of Harmony, never forget that. As our fighters return we will have a party in your honor and in honor of those that have fallen. The EMF have but scratched our surface. Once they learn of our true power even they will shake with fear, do not worry,” Harper said, again tapping Moretti on the shoulder.

“For the sake of Harmony,” Moretti said, holding the man’s eyes.

“For the sake of Harmony,” Harper returned the sentiment, looking like a proud but hard father.

God he’s a good talker, Moretti thought.

“Now get a shower and some food into you. The party will come sooner than you think and we still have to deal with the EMF forces that will no doubt be attacking the floating cities, and the other locations we hold. We must hold to give our other brothers and sisters the time they need. The EMF will fall brother.” With that Moretti was dismissed and Harper’s hand fell from his shoulder.

Harper moved to talk with the others that had escaped the gas planet, his thugs following him.

Moretti watched for a few moments before he headed for the lifts that would take him to one of the Harmony’s barracks.

As he walked he used his implants to access a backdoor he worked into the FTL communication system.

Chapter 23

EMFC Reclaimer

Gas Planet Orbit, Masoul System

10/3240

Mark drank his beer, absently, his eyes roving over the female troopers here and there. Thirteen of his platoon mates hadn’t made it back from their defense of the bridge, five were still fighting for their lives in med-bay.

Sergeant Haas was now Second Lieutenant Haas, Zukic was his warrant, Tyler was now in charge of his own section. Jerome might become the commander of the weapons detail and Holm would take his position as one section’s leader.

Mark pushed it away as he rose and walked to the bar, dropping off a beer.

“You’re Mark right, from Two-two-A-two?” A blonde with green eyes asked.

Mark’s thoughts fell away with the gorgeous girl in front of him, all curves, glam and toned muscles.

“Yeah,” he said, his voice had deepened from the under fed teenager to well-fed exercise freak. He put the bottle down and raised two fingers to the Corporal running the bar, they nodded stopping the order they were about to get from two others, and grabbed his beers.

“I heard you’re a damn good close combat fighter,” she said, grinning, she was definitely cute.

Though Mark was tired and focused on blotting his memories out with alcohol, he merely shrugged as two beers were deposited in front of him.

Instead of being annoyed with his actions she seemed to like it. They were all killers here, some people cried, others shut down. Mark drank and worked out until he passed into dreamless sleep.

She traced a finger down his chest.

“I’d be really interested in seeing some of your, techniques if you’re free,” she said, her eyes flicking to his. The offer clear as day.

Mark got pushed from behind, drinking and the surreal moment made him pause as he lost his balance and poured beer on the girl.

He went from talking to anger in a split second. The beers hit the ground, he turned, augments pumping him up anger fueled adrenaline whipped him around, pushing the guy who’d tumbled into him, out of the way, he grabbed the aggressor, one of the guys the corporal had skipped to get Mark’s beer.

Mark grabbed their collar with a meaty hand pulled them to him, then he dropped his forehead into their face, he felt their nose crack as they stumbled.

He let them go, dropping them.

Their buddy was moving in molasses, but his shock was turning to rage.

Mark’s right fist came up and socked him in the jaw.

The bar was silent as Mark looked over the two he’d dropped in a matter of seconds. The person he’d pushed just getting off of the floor.

“You okay?” The girl turned Mark, he let her pull him, the alcohol burned off in the flight of adrenaline fueled rage.

Troopers looked to those on the ground as Mark let his head be tilted so she could get a better look at his head. Putting him at around her chest height, not a bad place to be.

“Alright, let’s get you up to the medics, better make sure that isn’t a concussion,” she said in her trooper voice.

I like it more when she’s hitting on me, he thought. She checked his hand as MP’s came in and started talking to the Corporal behind the bar and the witnesses.

Jerome who’d been with Mark talked to them and gestured to Mark. Mark went over, the girl coming.

“I’m taking him to medical to make sure he doesn’t have a concussion. Those guys had some beef, pushed a dude into Mark. He kinda put them down,” the girl said, looking to Mark with something he couldn’t quite understand in her eyes.

“Happens around him, he’s Diablo,” Jerome said shrugging. The MP’s seemed to become more understanding after that.

“I was hoping that nickname died,” Mark growled.

“Not after the bridge defense,” Jerome assured him.

Mark sighed and rolled his eyes.

“Take him to medical, if we have any questions will talk to you later. I think this is the classic, drinking and someone set off a short fuse,” one of the MP’s said to the girl.

Mark wanted to argue the point, but he was too tired and now his brain was working, he had just reacted without thought. He was still wounded up from defending the bridge, still looking for a fight.

“Okay,” the blonde said, pulling Mark by the hand.

“Well that’s a shitty way to loose two beers,” Mark sighed.

She looked as if she was weighing the loss.

“Yeah, losing beer sucks, you’ll have to pay me back with one later,” she said, giving him a wink.

“So Bakker, what’s your first name?” Mark asked, seeing her nametape and admiring the swell under it.

“Oh yeah, you were checking out my nametape right?” She grinned, getting a small laugh from him.

“Names Sylvia,” she said, still pulling him by the hand.

“Nice to meet you Sylvia, so now you’ve seen my moves what do you think?” Mark asked.

“That you better get that concussion looked after and find somewhere for us to have some one-on-one lessons.” She was smiling and pulling ahead, her hips sashaying to capture his eyes.

She glanced back with a gleam of her own.

“If you know what I mean,” she said.

“Sex, closet, gotcha,” Mark smiled at her. Giving her the What am I going to do with you look.

“Better be a couch at least!” She said.

They walked into the med-bay and right into Lucille.

Shit. Mark thought, conscious of Sylvia’s hand holding his as his guts twisted.

Lucille looked them up and down, turning and going somewhere else, her tanned features getting redder.

“To warn you, that was my ex,” Mark said.

“Ehh, in this line we all got exes honey,” Sylvia said, looking to him.

He shrugged, if she didn’t mind he didn’t. He’d seen more than one person get angry seeing their bed buddy’s ex.

Sylvia watched as Qi found them, he made annoyed but understanding noises and stabbed Mark with needles.

“Fuck Qi, you and your damn needles,” Mark complained as Qi pulled the latest from his neck.

“Man with the amount of times you get fucked up you should be used to them by now,” Qi said.

“Make sure he drinks water and doesn’t get in another fight,” Qi said, opening the separating curtain and walking out.

Sylvia moved in front of Mark, grabbing his head and kissing him hungrily.

He returned the kisses, yearning to get somewhere less public.

They came apart, both of them looking at one another.

He grabbed her butt and squeezed.

“Yup, it’s real,” he said, grinning and picking her up.

She squealed and hit him playfully, they got a few hoots and hollers as he carried her out of the med-bay over his shoulder.

He set her down in the lift pressing her against the wall as they made out.

They came apart.

“Fuck you’re hot,” he said, getting a bubbly laugh from her.

“Remind me to thank your ex, she taught you well,” she said pulling him back down and making out again. The lift stopped twice, people getting in and staying to their side of the lift before they got close to the heating and cooling station three.

There was a set of four rooms for people that held watches here. In reality they were places to meet up and screw the night away.

For a few hours Mark and Sylvia forgot where they were, only caring about their desires and wants.

Chapter 24

Tower

Earth, Sol System

10/3240

Nivad held his chin with his hand, studying the various feeds and graphs that covered the wall.

All of the information was regarding the battle that had happened in Masoul was a week in the past. Even the tachyon systems took time to upload and send that much information, all of which had come from the one battle.

Nivad already knew that his rentals and sales of the videos were going to do nothing but climb with a space battle.

His mind wasn’t focused on that, but rather the understanding that Harmony was not going to be an easy enemy to clear from Masoul.

The two carriers had staved off the worst of the Gas planet’s invasion, but there were still thirty thousand Harmony fighters in the gas planet’s floating cities.

The carriers were pulling themselves back together and troopers were preparing to attack the cities in a day.

Casualties had been lower than Nivad was expecting after Reclaimer’s captains fuck-up.

Four thousand troopers had died in total, less than a ninetieth of the Troopers in-system.

The real loss had been the nearly fifty percent Combat Shuttles that were out of the fight. Their crews who hadn’t been cleared for flying because of the cryo-sickness. They had watched as the Combat Shuttles were destroyed on the flight decks of Reclaimer and Fearless.

There were more stored in the carriers holds but it still meant the carriers had thirty percent less lift capacity than usual. Flight crews were cannibalizing hulks to get more flight capable.

An alert jumped the mass of information.

It took a few moments to decode. When it did Nivad felt his mouth widen into a thin smile.

His operative within Harmony’s ranks had made it back to Masoul Actual.

He stood, leaving his office, his bodyguards moving around him. He passed cubicles that held personnel of all kinds, there was a tension in the air.

They understood how Earth and Her colonies worked, losing Masoul was a massive blow. There was freighter already moving towards the system that was being re-routed, billions were already lost in revenue. The estimated costs alone were going to be Trillions when it was all over.

Corporate partnerships who owned systems around Masoul were putting more money into Nivad’s pockets than ever before.

Their well oiled capitalist machine was getting messed up by these religious fanatics. It was Nivad’s job to see that the problem disappeared.

Twelve Carriers had risen to thirty moving towards Masoul. The troopers and their gear already paid for by bribes and favors.

The corporate world had been hit hard, now they were flexing their muscle. Nivad would work the system. He was the bridge between the corporations and the EMF, while everyone else was losing credits. He was making a good profit.

Private military personnel that looked after the tower’s protection opened the doors before Nivad. Unlike the troopers they wore powered armor, not simply armored plates strapped to their body.

He walked into the conference room of the day, it changed on a random basis, only revealed ten minutes before the meeting. Security was paramount and Nivad hadn’t got this far ahead without being more than a little paranoid.

Everyone was standing waiting for him.

He took his seat at the head of the table, there was no one at the bottom.

On his right there was Dalia, the old head of the EMF. He had retired after the destruction of Strike Station, for which he was appropriately blamed. But he was still useful and well connected so Nerva had kept him on.

The new head of the EMF was to Nivad’s left, with the head of the Navy, and Troopers past them. The rest of the seats were taken up by Nivad’s regional heads.

Nivad didn’t make it a point to know who was the current leader of the EMF. They would be changed out within a year or two. Same went for the first minister.

They were monitoring the information coming from their systems, trying to see if there was any connection to Harmony in any of their sectors.

Next to the head of the old EMF head was Paul Xiu, the man in charge of spies in Masoul.

He had proved to be a capable operative, Nivad had made sure to take a closer look into the man. He was hard working and driven, coming from the slums. Nivad needed to watch the man in case he didn’t start eyeing his seat before he was ready to leave his position.

“Paul, how are we looking?” Nivad asked.

“The asteroid claims are secure; it seems a few people from Harmony made their case there. We leaked the videos and information from Masoul across all networks. The miners spaced three hundred people a week later. We have reports from the gas planets of civilians actively attacking the Harmony fighters. It is my belief that we have the troopers fight with them, if they are fighting and dying alongside the troopers it will only drive them to help us clearing Harmony out. If we do the fighting for them, as they saying goes, they won’t have a dog in the fight,” Paul said, holding Nivad’s eyes.

“Good,” Nivad said, nodding. “Have we been able to find Harmony in any other system, the more information we get about them, the more their key players don’t seem to come from Masoul. I want to know where they come from before they have time to hide,” Nivad voice was level and cool. To the untrained ear he might have been discussing the fragrance of whine at nice little gathering.

This room was filled with trained ears, features hardened hearing the message under his actual words. I don’t accept failure.

“Dalia how are we on the public front?” Nivad asked.

“We’re looking the best we ever have. The ‘leaked’ videos of Harmony’s actions are driving people into a frenzy. The fact the videos are real will only help our cause,” Dalia said.

Nivad had seen the videos, they were brutal and nasty, nothing he hadn’t done a few dozen times before. Though they openly displayed violence brought down on their fellow man. Implied violence was a much more useful tool than outright fear.

“Kim?” Nivad said looking to the new head of the EMF.

“Recruitment is up across the board. The new training is being taken up by the lower ranks like you asked,” Kim said, she didn’t sound happy about having the people of the EMF trained by the veterans and lower ranks. It made them deadlier and less controllable.

Nivad didn’t care if they were hard to control, as long as he could point them in the direction of Harmony and they yielded results.

“I saw that Fearless and Reclaimer are down on the number of combat effective shuttles, will the carriers heading to the system be able to make up for this lack?” Nivad asked, his eyes coming to rest on the Navy head who shifted uncomfortably in his seat.

Kim looked to the man as well, making it clear for him to talk.

“It will take three carrier’s, extra shuttles, and parts to get the two carriers up to strength,” the man said, Nivad hadn’t taken the time to look up the man’s name, just another auxiliary whose function was to carry out Nivad’s orders.

“How long will that take?” Nivad asked.

“The first carrier will reach the system in five years, second seven, third eight. I provide the schedule for you with the timetables of all carriers if you are interested?” The man asked.

Nivad waved for the man to go on. His eyes unfocused, his right hand pinching something in his view and throwing it to Nivad.

Nivad saw the incoming message, it passed through his firewalls and checks before he opened it up.

“Make sure everyone has a copy,” Nivad said.

The man pinched and threw the information onto the table. People pinched the air above the table, and released it at their head, accepting the information.

“We also have the election coming up for President,” Dalia said.

“Very well, run the calculations and get me candidates. I think having one that is pressing for us to war against these savages will suffice,” Nivad said, elections were just another way Nivad balanced the interests of Earth and Her Colonies.

Private citizens didn’t even vote anymore; their votes were still accepted but then they thrown out. Earth and Her Colonies were a massive system, letting it rely on democracy was pure stupidity in Nivad’s eyes.

He kept the system running and the powerful corporations balanced. He was the most powerful person in known space not because he knew everyone’s secrets, which was a useful commodity in and of itself. No it was because he was in-between for all corporations.

When two companies needed to talk about a merger but didn’t want it getting to their competition, they talked to Nivad. Two of them were having issues, Nivad waded in and declared what they would do. He had the might of the EMF behind him, and those secrets hung over all their heads, his sword of Damocles.

“Yes sir,” Dalia said, making notes.

“Any other points that might be useful?” Nivad looked around, a private message arrived from Wallace. If Dalia was his right hand, then Wallace was his left.

Nivad didn’t even unfocus his eyes, that was a sure sign someone was using their implants. It was hard to read and look around at the same time. But it was a skill Nivad had mastered long ago.

“Good, then this meeting is over.” Nivad stood, the rest of the table rising with him.

He stalked out, the security guards behind his seat and at the door falling in around him and opening the door.

It didn’t take him long to get back to his office, Wallace was admitted a few moments later, the door locking behind him and a faint buzz filling the air as sound cancelling devices went to work.

“When we last talked it was about setting up new colonies in the systems around Luyten. What do you have for me,” Nivad asked.

“We already tried it once,” Wallace said his voice completely monotone, as bland as the man’s appearance.

Nivad waved for him to continue, moving to a liquor cabinet, grabbing two glasses, some ice and expensive bourbon.

“From all the information I was able to pull up, the majority of the systems have been surveyed, cities were planned out and all of the systems within three parsecs are ready to be inhabited. One of the survey ships went beyond and checked other systems. Most of the information has been wiped from the records.” Nivad passed the man a glass, holding onto one himself and grabbing a cigarette from a box on his desk. He lit it and sat down. Wallace took a sip while Nivad nursed his own drink.

“I went and checked the dates against the EMF’s records, three carriers went somewhere, and they didn’t come back,” Wallace said, holding Nivad’s eyes as he exhaled smoke and took another drink, his mind thinking.

“So the systems are ready for colonization, but something past three parsecs warranted a visit from no less than three carriers and not one of them returned,” Nivad said.

“Correct, it co-insides with the EMF’s period of mass recruitment nearly six hundred years ago. When the EMF went from private contractors to an institution controlled by Earth and Her Colonies governing body, they were recruited directly from Earth’s population. The EMF quadrupled in size in twelve years, carrier contracts were written up and forty were planned to be built. Strike Station was also built around that time. Not to be the strategic control point of the sphere, but to be a fallback position. Whatever that survey vessel found. I doubt it was friendly,” Wallace said.

There were too many holes, not enough information, it irked Nivad as he sipped his drink. Wallace did the same, waiting for his new orders.

“We need information. I want you to make a new survey ship, it’s purpose will to be find out what happened to the three EMF carriers.” Nivad took a drag, releasing it slowly, adding to the smoky quality of his office.

“I don’t want anyone knowing what you’re doing and I don’t want whatever’s out there knowing it was in-system,” Nivad finished, fixing him with a look.

“I’ll see to it,” Walalce said, standing and finishing off the bourbon in a gulp.

Nivad nodded.

Wallace inclined his head, turned and left.

Masoul had opened more than one bag of secrets and Nivad would find out just what that meant one way or another.

Chapter 25

Combat Shuttle one-four-nine and Extractor Thirteen

Gas Planet, Masoul System

10/3240

The mission sounded simple.

Fuck, when doesn’t it sound simple? Less to fuck up. Jerome thought as he secured his E-12 to his stomach and brought his harness around his armored plates.

A good shake made sure that it was sealed. He looked to his weapons detachment, Huang, Dooks, Sasaki, Ishida and Kojo were, strapped and packed with repulsors, breaching charges and all kinds of destructive goodies.

Tyler had taken command of two section after Alvarez had caught a round. Evans, Ma, Smith and Sal hadn’t made it either. Jerome had lost Kauv and Ohana, Sergeant Haas had become second-lieutenant Haas, his section had only lost Bale.

They were hurting but there was no time to stop and properly grieve, they pushed it down and away. They needed to focus on the here and now. Which was getting stuffed into the back of a Combat Shuttle that was more holes than armor and attacking Gas Planet’s Extractor.

There were thirty thousand Harmony fighters with nowhere to go. Sure the locals were helping the EMF out in a rare display of togetherness.

Jerome saw how having the population on your side could be helpful in war, instead of being constantly against it.

No one was stupid enough to think that this was going to be easy.

A burly cargo hold master ran a trained eye over the harnesses as they closed the Combat Shuttle’s rear hatch.

“Welcome to Combat Shuttle one-four-nine, my name is Lieutenant Yu. Gas planet’s atmosphere is going to be rough. Shouldn’t be expecting any hostile fire. But we all know how that shit goes right out the air lock when we’re actually getting close to the target. Jack into the sensors if you want to, we should be moving in five minutes,” Lieutenant Yu cut the channel. Jerome opened up the sensor feed, most Combat Shuttle pilots didn’t let troopers use them as they thought it slowed down their systems.

Reclaimer troopers and Combat Shuttle crews had become a lot closer than on other carriers.

Jerome looked at the other Combat Shuttles across the flight deck, the majority had battle damage of some kind marring their armored surfaces, still they were ready to go, the blue lights of their engines lighting the atmosphere free flight deck.

“Cleared for launch,” Yu reported as the first rank of shuttles rose from the flight deck and headed out of the mangled doors towards Gas Planet rotating just outside of Reclaimer.

Their row of shuttles picked up moments after the first had exited the flight deck. They moved forward, their thrust pushing them out of the carrier and angling towards Gas Planet.

“Well ain’t that a sight,” Tyler said on a private channel.

Jerome knew the other man was missing Alexis and Mark. Hell Jerome missed Garcia, but they didn’t have the kind of relationship Tyler and Alexis had.

Jerome and Garcia used one another to relieve their urges, to clear their head for battle.

Jerome was scared for what would happen if either one of them died.

He could hope it wouldn’t happen, but Earth and being a Trooper had shown him how fragile life was.

One second you’re alive, next you’re a mess of brain matter and blood.

“Yeah, kind of weird,” Jerome said, looking at the swirling and shimmering colors of the gas planet. Ribbons of different gasses were layered on one another, dictated by their densities and the planet’s gravitational pull.

Down there, massive electro-static storms could destroy even an Earth Military Force Carrier.

And some fucker decided to build extractors down there, Jerome sighed as the shuttle started shaking as it entered Gas Planet’s atmosphere.

Jerome looked to the scanners, Fearless and Reclaimer were close to one another. Fearless’ forces were moving to the stations in orbit, clearing out any Harmony forces there. Their secondary mission was to clear the massive drifting freighter.

Word had come from higher, they wanted the massive carrier intact. Some CEO was probably hoping they didn’t lose the billions of credits it took to build one of the things.

“We’re seeing something that is only in three other systems and you say ‘Yeah, kind of weird,’” Tyler said.

“What you want me to say, oooh, look it’s shiny,” Jerome said.

Tyler laughed, “you’re one uncultured dude.”

“Fuck man, I’m just here to go to different places, and say hello, E-12 first,” Jerome said, slapping his rifle.

Turbulence made them lurch wildly. Someone made a deposit into the puke trough, it looked like Ishida people whooped and cheered, the puker still bent over incase more followed.

Jerome chewed his gum violently, he knew Tyler was doing the same, it was a trick they’d taken from Mark and other veterans. It wouldn't be good if newly minted Sergeants were puking everywhere.

“Fuck, this is worse than Sacremon,” Tyler growled.

“Don’t you fucking curse me now Tyler Victor,” Jerome growled between angry chewing.

Tyler grunted as the turbulence picked up again.

“Sorry about this boys and girls, seems whoever made this planet’s atmosphere is a right fuck up,” Lieutenant Yu said through gritted teeth. “Ten minutes!” he called out, cutting the channel.

“Gear check! Remember we’re doing air-lock entry so I want those harnesses off as soon as possible,” Jerome said.

Green lights confirming they’d heard him went across the top of his HUD. No one was talking now because they were probably trying to retain control of their stomachs. Jerome saw their hands touching their kit, knowing where it all was by feel.

Jerome looked to the extractor facilities, they were identical to one another.

Anchoring lines snaked down from different points of the lowest platform, at the center there were extractor lines that dropped at various heights to gather the gasses at that level.

Above the lowest platform were massive tanks that the gasses were refined and pressurized in. Above that were maintenance platforms, offices, command centers and living quarters. Each platform would get smaller ending in a line that snaked out of the atmosphere. Freighters would hook up and draw various gasses to be shipped from the line extending out of the Gas Planet’s atmosphere.

It wasn’t long until they got the five-minute warning, they lost speed as the Combat Shuttle brought them right on target, it’s ramp also had an air lock in the middle of it.

Orange lights whirled through the cargo hold and harnesses released, only one needed to be jimmied open.

All of the troopers were on their feet and facing the airlock as it’s lights lit up confirming connection.

A few moments later it opened up.

Jerome moved first, the dual airlocks on the other side were open as well, allowing him to walk right into the living quarters of the Gas planet’s workers.

It was the same as any living space on a colony. Blank corridors and rubberized flooring with numbers printed to allow people to figure out where they were. Lifts, supply closets and doors leading to apartments spread out in an expandable grid pattern.

Each intersection had large airlocks where they’d been attached to their counterparts. They were all open as the station was pressurized. If someone holed the exterior, then the nearest airlocks would seal with the pressure loss.

Jerome’s section was first out of the shuttle.

“Dooks front, Huang, take longshot down the corridor, anything shoots at us, you kill them. Remember there are friendlies in the facility, don’t need to start pissing them off by lighting their buddies up, Sasaki, Ishida and Kaj, you’re with me, Kaj we’ll fire team up. Once we get to the first corridor we’ll split left while Tyler goes right, good?” Green lights appeared.

“Shuttle, cleared, thanks for the ride,” Zukic said, Jerome picking it up on the leadership channel.

“No worries, happy to help, let us know if you need support,” Yu said, the airlock’s closing behind Tyler’s section as they moved up to the right of Jerome’s.

“Tyler move right, I’ll move left,” Jerome said.

“Gotcha,” Tyler confirmed, moving his section into place.

“Rest of the platoon should be coming in ten. I’m going to pull Dooks and Obe to cover down the entry corridor,” Zukic said.

“Good by me,” Jerome said, coming to the first corridor and signalling for Ishida and Sasaki to take the corner when Tyler’s section was ready.

Dooks and Obe went to Zukic lying down to cover the corridor they had entered.

“Three, two, one,” Ishida called out the timing, Jerome and Kaj went right as Ishida and Sasaki went left.

They moved down their new corridors their section following after them as Zukic moved Dooks and Obe up to get better cover.

Jerome and Tyler coordinated clearing out rooms. It was a timely process but they didn’t want anyone coming in behind them.

Haas, Mark and Holm came in with the remainder of the platoon. Green dots showed the troopers moving in to the facility on all levels, clearing as they went, turning grey areas into green.

So far, so good,

Nerva moved up with the forward platoon, NIDenise pinged the first contact.

Greens went to yellows and two blacks as people moving through the mechanical areas of the facility were hit by Harmony fighters.

He saw as other platoons in the areas came across civilians, moving to support their lines with their own fire power. The civilians were using security shotguns and whatever they’d been able to convert into weapons.

Chapter 26

Extractor Thirteen

Gas Planet, Masoul System

10/3240

“You’re going to want to see this,” NIDenise said. Nerva pulled into a secured room, a section following him as he accessed the image.

There was a row of civilians ranging from teenagers to retirees strung up in the rafters.

Nerva knew violence, he could tell when a person was killed cleanly and when they’d been made to suffer. Everyone in the rafters had suffered for days before dying.

Nerva silently transmitted it to every officer.

“No mercy, kill them all,” Nerva said.

Green lights went across the top of his helmet.

Alerts from higher came in, orders to secure the processing tanks. It cut to a video of facility nine turning into a fireball.

Nerva passed on the orders, it seemed the fanatics were driven to the point of blowing themselves up instead of letting the troopers get to them.

He sent the message to all the Majors he knew. Some people wouldn’t send information to the ground troopers. Happy to sit up in their command centers, watching their screens in boredom.

He’d seen the feeds from the command center on Reclaimer more than once. Every time it made him want to go up there and clear out the useless fuckers with a repulsor.

Nerva used his HUD and implants to give different platoons and companies new way points, moving troopers to help where combat was and search for any altercations the bastards might have made to turn the whole thing into one big bomb.

A new marker went up as yet another platoon came under contact.

The marker was all too familiar.

“For fuck sakes, Triple Two’s!” He sighed. Haas had been a Sergeant just a week ago, but he was a solid officer. He knew how to handle his people, and his platoon was hungry to make the Harmony fighters pay. They had lost more than any other unit and the rumors and videos surrounding their fight made them something of a myth.

They were good at their job and having them engaged on the line was making other officers and platoons push forward.

They wanted to prove that they were as good as the Twenty-Two A Twos, that had been nicknamed the triple twos.

***

Tyler looked at the corridors and offices that showed evidence of battle.

They’d cleared the living quarters and command centers with the other platoons, but for the office spaces they’d spread out, there was only a few levels to go before they got the maintenance levels where the fighting was the hardest.

They’d heard the fighting in the offices before they saw it.

Haas got them organized and gave them roles.

Holm would lay in supporting fire, Zukic would get casualty point sorted out with Qi. Tyler’s section would go first, followed by Mark and Jerome’s. The aim was to overwhelm the Harmony bastards with firepower and run through their lines, they’d get in behind them and make a bad day worse.

“Go,” Haas said, Tyler turned the corner, red and blue halos started appearing.

“We’re behind Harmony not civilians,” Tyler said over the command channel.

“Deploy a fighting line, Tyler get down,” Haas said.

The sections spread down the office area they’d entered; weapons fire being traded just a few hundred meters away.

They formed a line behind the enemy, it wasn’t the best and could have led to the civvies or troopers shooting one another.

Thankfully the civilian’s weapons while good against vac suits and skin weren’t all that effective against trooper’s armor.

Well most of them, the one’s they’d fabbed together in the years since Harmony had made their play on Masoul Actual were simple airguns, but with the power to go through anything but a trooper’s main plates.

“Okay, stand and pick your targets, Harmony only. On my Mark,” Haas said.

“Now!” Haas barked.

The entire platoon rose, red tracers ripped into the Harmony fighters unguarded rear.

The Harmony fighters were thrown into disarray.

“Move forward!” Haas said troopers moved around their cover to new cubicles. Civilians seeing the troopers laid down, the Harmony fighters turned to their new targets at their rear.

“Grenades!” Haas said.

Tyler pulled up his launcher firing three grenades across his frontage, being careful to not hit the civilians past.

Red halos disappeared as the grenades made the floor shake and turned cubicles, office supplies, and hasty barricades into shrapnel.

The Harmony fighters didn’t even have time to react to the incoming fire, shrapnel piercing them and others turning to sprays of gores and grenades exploded on impact.

Tyler didn’t dare glance to either side, they advanced, the Harmony fighters fire had ended.

Here and there an E-12 barked, making sure their enemy wouldn’t get up.

Civilians started rising looking at the troopers.

Wonder what the hell we look like wearing full armor and loaded out for war, Tyler thought, deciding that the faceless quality of their helmets were probably the weirdest part of their setup.

They reached the civilian lines. Warrant Zukic looked to make a casualty area, getting security in both directions as Second Lieutenant Haas walked up to the civvies after a few moments someone came and talked with him.

“Check your ammo,” Tyler said, opening a channel to Zukic.

“Stay with Haas, they might be on our side but they ain’t troopers.” Zukic said.

“On it,” Tyler switched to his section’s channel. “Watch the civvies, nothing aggressive. We’re here to watch Haas’ back.”

Qi worked on the civilians, thankfully none of the Troopers had anything worse than a scratch.

A few of the civilians had been too close to the grenades and others had been wounded before the troopers showed up.

They didn’t have augments and were weak from the marginal food that was supplied by their company, it only lowered their chances of survival.

Tyler hoped they made it out of this alive, but they weren’t his responsibility. Tyler got his people watching the surrounding area, but ready to react if the civvies got aggressive.

Haas pulled out a tablet he and the group of civvies worked on it for a few minutes, circles appearing on the map.

“Okay, we’ve got three possible enemy locations. This group has been cut off from them since two days ago. I’m not expecting much but we need to check it out. Zukic get them ready to roll. I’m going to check with higher,” Haas said, his briefing over.

A location was highlighted on the map just a couple of offices over.

“Mark you have lead, Tyler, Holm and Jerome in the rear, move into it,” Zukic said, already pushing them out of the offices and towards their new target. Qi passed on medical supplies to the civilians and gave them a short talk before he slung his medical pack back on and was following Zukic, both of them getting into the formation.

Red halos appeared ahead of Tyler, weapons fire came from Mark’s section as their progress barely slowed.

Haas was with them as they exited the offices they’d cleared. They covered corridors, two staying as the others moved quickly, word would pass quickly among the Harmony fighters, they needed to move faster if they were going to be able to surprise them.

“Contact, large body of Harmony fighters, came in on their flank, move up fire support,” Mark called out as weapons fire escalated, the ground was shaking with explosions from grenades.

The sections continued to move forward spreading out into the new office space and putting fire into the Harmony fighters, tracers ripped through officers and grenades sent bodies flying.

Desks were flipped and used as barricades.

Tracer fire ripped through the air, the Harmony forces charged, yelling, screaming and crazy. After a week of solid fighting something gave in them.

Death was probably kinder than what the civilians wanted to do to them. Everyone had seen the pictures and videos of Harmony’s acts perpetrated against civilians when they didn’t do as they wanted.

“No mercy!” Haas barked.

Tyler’s round punched through Harmony fighters sending them tumbling to the ground. A few jumped over obstacles, rounds hitting them in mid-air and throwing them back.

The Harmony fighters were just meters away, wild and still charging. The troopers yelled and bellowed but they didn’t give up their ground, only stopping to reload.

Ali went down, Obe was already there, applying first aid. Ali showed red but he got Ma to put him against a wall so he could keep firing.

Mcnara, Bairamov, Jerome, Dooks, Niemi, their names went from green to yellow and red.

Even with their injuries many of them continued to fight the Harmony fighters. Tyler slammed a new magazine in as one of the Harmony fighters jumped out from behind a desk, sinking a blade into Dalhousie’s neck.

“Mother fucker!” Tyler said staggering and bringing his barrel between him and the Harmony fighter. The gun fired as the barrel matched up with the bastard’s head.

Gore and blood splattered on Tyler’s armor.

He pulled sealant from his hip, they’d learned to keep it handy. He sprayed the blade still in Dalhousie’s neck and went back to shooting the fuckers that had put another member of his section down.

Another platoon moved into support, taking the pressure off of them and breaking the Harmony fighter’s charge.

The tables turned and the hunters became the hunted.

Troopers threw tables and crap out of their way, moving forwards, their red tracers cutting down fleeing fighters.

They weren’t under-fed or new to the concept of war. They were Earth-born troopers.

“Even the devil screams when troopers come for him,” Mark said, the saying wasn’t in any official troopers training pamphlets. It wasn’t official but it was one of the many that the Troopers kept alive.

It had an effect on the Troopers.

They tightened up their formations, worked together even if they weren’t from the same platoon. Their fire cut down fleeing Harmony forces. It was chaos and it was fast, but troopers pushed up, covering one another before moving themselves.

People fell and they moved on. Medics and those detailed looked after the wounded in the rear. The rest concentrated on fighting. There wasn’t rank in their advance. It didn’t matter, actions and killing the fuckers that thought about attacking their homes did.

***

“Launcher left!” Someone screamed as the trooper’s fire shifted, finding the gunner and his launcher out in the open.

Rounds pulped them and caused the launcher to explode.

The catwalk the gunner had been turned to superheated debris raining down on the lower decks.

Alexis was in the maintenance areas on the lowest level, there were five floors in the place with machinery that went the length and intervals where there was nothing but catwalks above.

It was a maze, something that the Harmony Fighters were making great use of.

Motherfuckers. Alexis looked over her section and platoon, they were spread across the facility with half sections above them fighting to clear their overhead.

It was slow going but they took every advantage they might get.

“Move up on the left flank, that explosion might have fucked them up!” Captain Harold yelled, getting the side into motion.

They pushed on, covering and moving so that there was always rounds coming down on the Harmony fighters.

“Grenade!” A trooper tossed a grenade, disappearing under the whine of high-velocity rounds.

Alexis saw the tracers; they were all too familiar.

“They’ve got repulsors!” Alexis called out, marking the area and sending it up her chain of command.

The grenade went off on a higher level. Harmony fighter bodies were thrown away. With all the fighting they hadn’t even noticed the grenade.

Now they weren’t Alexis’s biggest concern, sure they were up there, but the enemy having repulsors, if they had a dug in position, it was going to be messy as hell.

“We’ve got two platoons moving in from the office spaces, they’re chasing the Harmony fighters,” one of the half-section leaders from above reported.

Something exploded, in these extractor facilities it was hard to know what the fuck was going to explode or not. There was a clear don’t touch a fucking thing policy.

It kind of went out the window as the ‘shoot those motherfuckers’ policy was in force.

Black’s reds and Yellows showed on the left flank of the force.

“Hold the line, move down to cover. We’ll get the fresh platoons to flank. Calling in aide,” Harold said.

Alexis ran down the line, her fire team being donated to cover the section of line that had been blown to hell. She passed writhing and burned bodies.

Other troopers were grabbing them and running off to the medic’s in the rear.

She passed a trooper, they went down with a round through their facemask.

She jumped and rolled into cover.

“High powered shooter in the uppers, aiming at helmets,” she said, confused by how calm and collected her voice sounded compared to the confusion, fear and anxiety that raged inside of her.

She got up and fired at where she thought the shooter might be, pumped a few grenades for good measure and took off again.

The lines were a mass of troopers firing and reacting to Harmony-fighters.

If they saw the enemy, they launched grenades into the area and shot it up.

***

Nerva moved out of the room he was coordinating efforts from and ran to Captain Ortiz, his long legs quickly outpaced the section.

“Ortiz, Demar let’s get in this shit,” Nerva said.

“Yes sir, all forces, move to reinforce Captain Harold, move out!” Captain Ortiz said over his company’s command channel.

Troopers that had been on reserve status waiting to be committed were now in motion. Ortiz, reading the situation had readied his people for multiple different missions.

By the time Nerva got to Ortiz’s position Ortiz and Demar’s reinforced companies were heading through the cleared areas. Advancing on the Harmony fighters.

“Harold,” Nerva said, overriding the man’s channel.

“Sir?” Harold asked, the sounds of battle audible behind him.

“I’m moving up Ortiz and Demar’s forces to reinforce, detail positions you want them to fill,” Nerva said.

“Fuck yes, sending waypoints,” Harold said, cutting the channel.

For one of the few times Nerva broke his stoic expression and grinned as he and Ortiz’s forces ran full out through the extractor.

There was something powerful about running with that many warriors at your back.

***

Haas checked the information on his HUD with a glance, putting rounds in a Harmony fighter trying to run.

He vaulted over a desk, tossing a grenade at a reinforced area that housed a repulsor and had claimed a half-dozen of his troopers.

The grenade went off, the fortification blowing apart as the repulsors ammunition went up as well.

“Move it troopers! We’ll clear these fuckers down to the maintenance floor and grind them down there. The rest of the Division is being committed to support,” Haas said while he was crouching low and cutting down some Harmony fighters which were hiding behind a cubicle trying to escape the troopers suppressive fire.

He saw Mark’s section running, guns up and shooting. They moved in on the enemy repulsor position which was now a smoking wreck.

Fire suppression foam came raining down as Haas’ HUD changed to Infrared.

“Use the foam for cover and move up!” Haas called, the troopers rose from their positions, working through the thick foam to take down the blind Harmony fighters.

“Section clear, let’s move on!” Haas said.

The troopers pushed out of the room, dropping on their stomachs and firing at the weapons teams setting up down the halls, they were still hidden in foam.

Grenades and rounds ripped the Harmony positions apart as troopers moved up, others went into the office complex across the hall and right into another firefight.

Infrared returned to normal for Haas who wiped the foam off of himself.

The troopers looked like they’d just come from the world’s biggest foam party. He shook that particular memory from a leave many years in the past as he moved into the offices.

Because they were chasing the Harmony forces they hadn’t set up anything, the fortified repulsor position was a new one.

Here grenade launchers were being used against them.

It seemed the Harmony fighters were finally breaking out the EMF hardware.

Haas would have preferred to have never seen it used against his own people. Grenades sent the troopers backwards, reds, yellows and a spattering of blacks showing where the grenades had been the closest.

Haas didn’t say anything as troopers from two platoons fired with their grenade launchers. The difference was hellish. Troopers had lived with and used their weapons for years.

They were damned accurate and knew how to use them to the best effect.

Explosions landed among the Harmony fighters, blowing them out in all kinds of directions, turning cover into shrapnel, starting fires.

Even as grenadiers fired, repulsor gunners combed the area like the universe’s deadliest scythe.

The whole time they advanced. Nerva had taught them the tactics of fighting a retreating enemy. They had to maintain contact for as long as possible, not giving the enemy time to make defenses, or do anything but react.

The Harmony forces, now panicked and scared were no less deadly, but they were broken into individuals. A single person can do a lot, but it is always outnumbered by the concentrated effort of many. Part of Nerva’s lecture came back to Haas as he saw an E-12 barrel moving above a cubicle. He aimed for the wall on his side, putting a grenade in it.

The weapon clattered to the floor and the Harmony fighter was not coming back from his wounds.

Haas looked to his right seeing Mark toss a grenade over a cubicle, it went off. He and Dominguez were running and jumping from opposite directions, red halos appeared and then dropped as they put rounds in the surprised fighters.

Mark got up and put a grenade into the wall of the offices, it came apart as Jerome moved around it. Fleeing Harmony fighters were cut down by Holm’s gunners. Haas’ platoon had worked together long enough to predict their fellow’s actions.

“Move to the next office-plex,” Haas called, looking to the medical reports and information that Zukic updated as he ran to the casualty collection area.

***

The maintenance areas of the extractor were a mess of fires, tracers, hand-to-hand combat and fire suppression foam.

Troopers reinforced by Demar and Ortiz’s forces were pushing through it all.

The half-sections above were getting some much needed support and clearing the overhead. Removing the E-12’s and repulsors hidden up there.

Command and control was limited. In here it was the trooper to the right and left against the enemy to your front.

“Lux get a grenade round!” Alexis called, up against some tall piping, covering the weaving corridor in front of her.

Lux tapped her back, thumbed the grenade and tossed it around the piping.

A Harmony fighter came out from behind the piping, as Lux was coming back on her throw’s back-swing.

Alexis pushed Lux, registering the Harmony fighter’s wide eyes as they wandered in on a trooper section. Then she didn’t see anything as her rifle fired, faster than the Harmony fighter’s sending them tumbling backwards with fist sized holes in their basic vac-suit.

Lux pulled out of Alexis’ grip their rifle up and ready as the grenade went off, shrapnel blowing out from behind the piping.

Alexis moved around the corner, three writhing fighters got a tombstone-touch from her E-12.

She dropped to a knee as Harmony fighters moved out of the recesses and passageways through the tubing piping from the industrial machines.

Red halos appeared as she pulled the trigger until the target went down, moving as soon as they faltered.

She felt spent casings fall on her shoulders as Lux fired over her.

The smart Harmony fighters got back into cover.

“Fuck this,” Alexis said her trigger hand sliding up the grenade launcher’s grip, she fired at the fighter’s cover.

It clicked empty.

“Reloading!” She called whipping her spent mag out of the grenade launcher, scanning and watching the corridor with her hand on the rifles trigger as she reloaded by feel.

She cocked the grenade launcher.

A fighter ducked out. Alexis’ rifle was coming up as Lux put a burst into the fighter, throwing them back.

The passageway of tubes, curling steam and gasses were mangled, spewing gasses everywhere.

“Moving up,” Alexis said, not giving herself time to think on the fact that if Lux hadn’t been where she was then she’d almost certainly be dead right now.

That was war, so many close calls that you heard death walking beside you. You were fighting to keep him at bay, but knowing that at anytime he would reach across and pull you down with him.

“Forces have pushed the remaining Harmony fighters into the maintenance areas, we end this here! No mercy, we are troope...” Captain Harold’s words were cut off by a gruesome noise.

“We are troopers!” Someone started the words rising above the firefight.

It took on like wildfire, yelled in savage growls and yells, a war-cry. They were declaring who they were and what they stood for. Fuck the rest of them.

Alexis was moving through the passageway, breaking off a group to go down a small recess that opened up into a maintenance corridor.

Harmony fighters ran past, not seeing them as the rest of the section pressed into the other passageways down the corridor they’d left.

Alexis saw two people moving a repulsor, it wasn’t that cumbersome as a piece of kit, but Masoul’s people were used to half-gravity so it was awkwardly heavy, especially with an ammunition pack.

She fired into them her gun slamming into her shoulder and dropping the gunners.

“Going Left,” she said, moving up on the gun with speed. She’d seen others moving up and down this corridor, more might be on her in seconds. She needed to seize the ground and that gun.

“Going right,” Lux said behind her.

“Set,” Alexis called, making sure Lux was ready to go so as to not fuck them both over.

“Good,” Lux said.

They moved out, turning in opposite directions.

Alexis had made the right call; Harmony fighters were just feet away about to fire down their maintenance hallway.

Alexis tensed up, firing before she had even settled into a kneeling position. Rounds pinged off of machinery and drew a line into the Harmony forces, making them jerk from the rounds and drop as their momentum was suddenly stopped.

A Harmony fighter jumped at her.

She let her gun go, remembering the training that Mark and Tyler had pressed into her. They stumbled as the gun came free in their hands.

She pulled a blade from her lower back, dragging it across the attacker’s shoulder, they yelled out in pain and turned to present their front.

Opening them up for Alexi’s back cut, putting her blade at the side of their skull, angled up.

The lights went out as Alexis pulled the blade free, blood now coating it as her next attacker came.

The Masoul forces might have weapons but they had grown up for the last thirty years scaring people with their fists, bullets were hard to make and Harmony only wanted to use them for the EMF.

It meant they were more comfortable punching kicking and biting than they were shooting, but it also meant that they were usually good at it.

Another fighter, punched Alexis’ helmet, her head whipped to the side, but other than being a bit dizzy she was fine.

He howled in pain, his fist broken. She drew her knife over his arms and body, keeping him between her and the other fighters trying to get to her.

She glanced to her HUD as she came back, the fighter with a new cut up his forearm and cried out from the kick to his hand.

Red halos filled the corridor.

Realization hit her like a brick, if she or Lux failed, they were both dead. If they fought more than one person, then they didn’t have good chances.

There wasn’t anyone around except for a few levels up.

They would have to fight.

The broken hand dude finally scrambled out of the way, a new fighter with a blade moved up; she was fast and darted in, stabbing at Alexis’ side.

Worry bout that shit later, win for now, she thought, trying to push the panic aside as she and her new opponent traded slashes and stabs. Thankfully she had armor, and she was stronger from being trained at one-point-three gravity and having her body frozen in two point four.

Her attacker, well she was fast and didn’t need strength as much as time to score a hit.

Alexis felt the blade bite into her side as she moved out of the way of a blade aimed at her head, bumping into Lux who was fighting her own battle.

Anger focused her as she moved forward, giving Lux room, slapping her attackers arm away and drawing a red line through her arm.

***

“Fuck,” Tyler said, feeling his heart twist in his chest as an alert he hoped to never come up appeared on his HUD.

“What?” Jerome asked, Tyler was on the command channel.

“You got this? I need to be somewhere,” Tyler said, pulling up a blueprint, using his hand implants to manipulate a hologram only he could see in real-time.

They were on the fifth floor of the maintenance area. The Harmony fighters had got creative with booby traps and gun positions hidden in the tubing which was the opposite of the precise and ordered offices they’d begun their fight in.

“The hell are you talking about?” Mark said.

“Gotta do something!” Tyler cut the channel as he took off from his position, firing his grenade launcher to confuse the Harmony fighters targeting.

He jumped off of a catwalk onto a pipe, he jumped off of it, rolling on a catwalk below. He rolled, coming up firing as red halos appeared.

He ran straight, cutting right, then left, eyeing his HUD and the tentative route he’d made.

He felt the catwalk shaking with others running on it.

He picked up his pace. He couldn’t get slowed down here, if he did then Alexis might die. He ran faster, firing bursts at any red halos or movement that wasn’t outlined in green.

He came to the end of the catwalk, not even slowing as he jumped, using the railing as a launch pad. He let his rifle dangle from his harness as his extra dense muscles threw him fifteen feet to a thin pipe. He caught it, wrapping his arms and legs around it.

He looked down, seeing Alexis and another trooper tagged as ‘Lux’ below.

He released his grip sliding down past floors until the pipe turned away, ending five feet above the fighting.

Tyler sighed, released the pipe and fell, right on top of the person Lux was fighting, his legs hurt with the impact but he grabbed his rifle, the stunned looking Harmony fighters getting a full magazine of rounds.

More were swarming and Tyler’s gun clicked empty, he didn’t have time to reload.

He heard twangs and noises of metal moving above him.

An all too familiar shadow was dropping down catwalk to catwalk. His bulk landed on the floor, he rolled onto a repulsor Tyler hadn’t seen.

Tyler whipped his arms to his sides, twin blades now in his hands as he took over for Lux who was bleeding from a dozen places and panting. She was listed as a yellow on Tyler’s HUD.

Tyler moved up onto the Harmony fighters, his left blade up his right along his forearm as he bobbed, weaved, landing harsh punches and opening blood vessels with his blades.

Tyler heard the sounds of a repulsor behind him. He didn’t have time to look as he dropped to his knee, under an attacker’s punch, stabbing into their leg and dragging it up to their groin.

Blood pumped out as the person fell screaming and holding their leg.

Tyler kicked them in the face and pulled back, using them as a barricade for the next fighter who tried to step over his buddy, focusing on his footing on the blood-soaked decking and squirming comrade.

Tyler tilted to his side and kicked the man in the chest, throwing him into his friends, winded and useless his friends dropped him, a new attacker moving up.

“Tyler, move!” Mark barked.

Tyler turned for the maintenance corridor which was the only real cover and dove, seeing Mark with the repulsor in his hands, only one of the straps holding the ammo pack on.

Behind Mark the scene could only be called an abattoir.

As soon as Tyler was clear, Lux was sitting on the ground, working on her injuries and out of the way.

Mark held the repulsor and fired, tracers ripped down the corridor, grinding anything and anyone in his way.

Shell casings fell at his feet as Tyler felt a sliver of cold pass through his spine.

Tyler got to his feet, spying his rifle, he grabbed it, pulling magazines as the shooting ceased.

Both hallways were clear on either side and fighting could be heard all around.

Tyler put his grenade mag back in place.

“Next time, give me some warning you idiot,” Mark growled, his own ammo pack had been used long ago as they’d moved through the offices.

He pulled the repulsor’s other strap on, glowering at Tyler before turning his attention to the gun.

“Sorry bro,” Tyler said, shrugging.

Mark sighed securing his rifle to the side of his pack and looking to Lux as Alexis jumped at Tyler, wrapping him up in a hug.

For a second they held one another, then she stepped back and punched him.

“Shouldn’t be down here you idiot, your platoon is five levels up,” she said, anger in her voice.

“Good to know you’re keeping tabs on me,” Tyler joked.

“This is war Tyler Victor, as much as I’m thankful you pulled Lux and my asses out of the fire, you should be leading your section, not down here. You even brought Mark down here, that only leaves your platoon with two section leaders, and we both know Holm is nervous since it’s his first turn as the section commander,” she said.

“I know, but they’re only slowly advancing and I trust Mark made sure that someone was leading our sections before he followed me,” Tyler said, wincing as he tried to fight her accusations but they were all too true.

He should be up there watching over his people, but he couldn’t have left Alexis to die.

“What’s done is done, Haas is gonna have your ass, now we need to clear this area out if we’re going to survive this,” Mark interjected, helping Lux to her fee. Tyler could see her wincing but as soon as she was vertical she was checking her rifle.

Alexis looked like she was going to say something else but simply nodded, “yeah.”

“You two lovers take left, Lux, you’re with me on the right,” Mark said, pulling the repulsor to his shoulder.

Tyler took the lead as they separated, Alexis at his back, his barrel looked for fighters coming out of any nook and cranny he saw between the piping.

The corridor angled to the right, Tyler slowed his pace, trying to see what was down the bend.

He saw five people scattered around what looked like a supply closet, red halos tagged them as he slowly moved back into cover.

“You hit the ones on the right with grenades, I’ll hit the ones on the left,” Tyler said, pulling his grenade launcher magazine and checking he had enough rounds.

“Got it,” Alexis said, doing the same before slapping it home.

“I’ll go low, you high,” Tyler said, facing the supply closet but still behind cover. He was wishing he could say so much more, but right now they just needed to survive, not think about the fact they were in love with one another.

“Good,” Alexis said.

“Three, two, one,” Tyler said, they both stepped out, grenade launchers ready.

They fired on their targets, the supply room’s door blew in and the decking got torn to shit, but so did the red halos which disappeared.

Alexis pulled Tyler to his feet and they moved up, looking for any of the fighter friends that might show up.

The piping opened up to show consoles but no other entrances.

“Well fuck, no wonder they were guarding this place, looks like an armory or ammo point,” Tyler said, moving to the door.

“Three, two, one,” he went in the room and to the right, seeing nothing but ammunition boxes and weapons. “Clear.”

“Clear,” Alexis said, letting her rifle drop as they looked over brand new E-12 repulsors, ammunition for all of it and a smattering of Harmony guns and their ammunition.

Tyler looked to Alexis, even covered in gore, her armor plates showing silver lines from impacts, slashes and ricochets. Her smart clothes were torn and stained with smoke, fire, and grime. She still took his breath away.

“Eyes front trooper, we get off this platform there’ll be plenty of time spent studying,” she said, smiling in her helmet.

“You do know what I mean by studying?” She asked, cocking her leg and looking at him with a raised eyebrow.

“Going to the library and getting a study booth?” He said as if he was guessing.

“Very good!” She smiled, shaking her head and grabbing magazines.

Tyler let out a snort and did the same, it didn’t take them long to fill their pouches and toss two ammunition packs they’d found.

***

Jerome had wanted to follow after Tyler and Mark, it had only been Mark telling him to stay and asking permission to follow Tyler that had stopped him.

He realized that the three of them had become brothers just as Mark and Tyler had. Not by blood but experience.

Haas had given Mark permission probably knowing that Mark wouldn’t be effective with his mind on other matters, plus Tyler needed back up.

He certainly wasn’t pleased about it but he’d done it, better to give an order he knew would be followed, than one that wouldn’t.

The Platoon was moving forward slowly; under their feet they could see all the way to the bottom of the maintenance area. Getting shot from below was a big problem as were avoiding broken catwalks. Most didn’t do too well after being hit by a few grenades.

“Huang, Kaj, move up through those machines in the center,” Jerome said, they were moving forward, wary since no one had shot at them in some time.

Huang and Kaj seemed to wake them up, weapons fire came from several directions where Harmony fighters had dug in.

The trooper’s response was immediate and destructive, grenade launchers thoump-ed their rounds away as streams of tracers outlined the firing positions.

Jerome checked his HUD as he moved up, firing burst after burst into Harmony fighters hiding behind a pipe. He saw a spark growing and being pulled towards the pipe.

Then he was five feet backwards, ash and dust slowly falling to the ground as the pipe he’d been shooting at and everything around it became melted metal.

“Fucking MOTHER FUCKER! This place is a fucking bomb making site of certified fucking idiot monkey fucks!” Dashtund yelled. Jerome saw him pulling himself up and shooting at Harmony fighters wandering around, they shell-shocked and stunned by the destruction.

Jerome couldn’t bring himself to his feet just yet, so he shot them from on his back.

His HUD showed Kaj and Huang as reds, medics and their helpers were already moving up.

Jerome’s ribs felt like they were broken, he and his people were a myriad of yellows and reds. Still they were doing better than the Harmony fighters.

It looked like the opposite side of the level had fared a lot worse, flames could be seen pouring out from other places the pipe had exploded.

Without armor and right in the middle of the destruction, the Harmony fuckers weren’t having a good day.

“Move in. No Mercy!” Haas yelled, his words getting Jerome to his feet.

“We are troopers!” Others responded, remembering Captain Harold’s words as they moved forwards, focused and determined. Fatigue from before forgotten, washed away with augmented combat pumps and all-natural adrenaline.

They jumped over broken catwalks, the Harmony fighters, stunned and confused, tired and scared were no match for the wave of troopers that met them.

Jerome grunted with the pain of rubbing ribs, augments pumped him with painkillers and stims to dull the pain but keep him alert.

Other augments did what they could to start healing the damage.

Jerome fired a burst into a moving group of Harmony, already troopers passed him as the last dropped to the ground. He caught up with the tail-end of the troopers and passed them seeing they had their situation under control.

So it went, clearing the fifth floor by overwhelming the Harmony forces in dozens of locations and pouring rounds into them.

Those behind them funneled down stairwells and ladders, pushing out right in the middle of Harmony controlled ground. Jerome got to the end of the floor meeting up with other troopers.

“Floor clear, linked up with One platoon,” Jerome said on the command channel.

“Clear your areas and move in sections down to the next floor,” Haas said.

Jerome looked to the leftovers of his section. Ma, Obe and Ali waited on him, checking their guns.

“Let’s go fuck some people’s days up,” Jerome said running to the nearest ladder using one hand and his feet he dropped to the floor below.

The other three thumped onto the catwalk.

More troopers followed as they picked a route through the machinery. Harmony fighters were reeling and Jerome was only too happy to capitalize on it.

They moved and fired down corridors.

“Got three on my right,” Jerome said.

“Got them,” another trooper said on the area-net. Tracers came from where the fighters had ducked behind cover. A body dropped in the corridor.

“Moving up,” Ali said moving forward the rest following.

Jerome checked his HUD as they moved, yellows and greens swarmed through the fourth and fifth floor, lines were still fighting on the third and second but troopers were starting to get behind them and turn a one-front fight into close combat.

On the first floor the troopers had moved through side corridors and were moving in on the last fortified positions. They’d had longer to build their positions but it was only a matter of time before it fell.

***

“Get me those screamers!” Ortiz called, Demar and Nerva were dealing with the fighting going on in the higher floors while he was commanding the reinforcements and Captain Harold’s forces.

The other Captain had been killed rallying his troops.

Ortiz didn’t have time to mourn on the man he had fought beside for most of his adult life. He could help to keep the man’s people alive however.

Three troopers with the one-meter-long tubes on their back were next to him within a few minutes.

“Crack those fucking fortifications,” Ortiz said, looking the two women and one dude in the eyes.

They nodded, faces serious even though they were all yellows, they were ready to do their duty.

“Good, go,” Ortiz said, ushering them towards the hardest fighting.

Nerva had given him strict orders to keep his ass in cover and out of incoming rounds’ way.

That said, he didn’t tell him anything about moving into a better position to see his people at work. At least that was going to be Ortiz’s excuse.

The screamer holding trio spread out. The pipes and machinery had given way to what looked to be a loading dock backed into the back corner of the maintenance level.

Industrial vehicles had been flipped, and metal plating put between pipes to make barricades.

They fired repulsors, E-12’s and their own brand of full-auto rifles.

Troopers were arranged around them, firing in on their defenses. Harmony and trooper bodies were strewn around the barricades. Tracers pinged off of the barricades, grenades left dents.

Harmony grenades turned piping, consoles, tanks and troopers into debris.

Ortiz set his jaw watching the destruction.

It took a few minutes of traded weapons fire before the first screamer was loosed.

As it’s namesake suggested it howled upon exiting its launcher, reaching hellish speeds before slamming into a barricade. It penetrated the weak armor and exploded inside. Ortiz ducked into cover as the vehicles and paneling blew out in a fantastic display of destruction.

Ortiz looked back, seeking a smoking ruin where the Harmony bastion had been, fire suppression systems were already coating the area.

Another screamer let loose, this one hitting a heavy hauler. It must have hit its gas tanks as it went up in a fountain of flames, sending debris into the second floor twenty feet up.

The third screamer got to their feet but they were hit from multiple directions.

Ortiz pulled back, looking on his HUD, seeing two scrambling to grab the launcher from the black dot that was the third gunner.

One got the tube Ortiz guessed as they moved in the opposite direction.

Troopers opened up, angered by the loss of one of their own. Grenades fell among the now open barricades and rounds kept the remaining bastions down.

Ortiz glanced around the corner, the new gunner pushed themselves up, missing a foot they used piping to steady themselves and fired into the biggest barricade.

Ortiz’s pride in his fellow trooper turned to astonishment as something turned the screamer’s cries into a flammable apocalypse, the barricade didn’t simply blow up. It fucking vanished and turned other barricades into flying shit.

“Fucking shit!” Ortiz said, dropping to the floor as a door went past his head and embedded itself in five-foot-wide piping.

There was a hole in the second floor, metal and shit was raining down everywhere.

“Seems that fucking fire suppression system’s finally given up,” CSM Ki said beside Ortiz.

“Fucking hell,” Ortiz said, looking over what had been the battlefield, just as the suppression system dumped suds everywhere.

Ortiz looked to Ki and then very quickly away to hide his smirk.

The CSM was looking up at the sprinklers as if to ask some higher power why they were doing this to him, and that he’d dearly love to murder those fucking sprinklers.

“Up and at them, no mercy,” Ortiz said, grabbing his rifle and moving from his position. Now there weren’t any incoming rounds he was clear to go where he belonged, on the front lines.

“We are troopers!” They responded, moving through the destruction. As they moved they made sure the Harmony fighters were dead by giving them the tombstone tap.

No one got up after two rounds were through their skull.

***

Nerva looked over the reports, above and below they were clearing out the last Harmony fighters.

Control was being reasserted as sections and platoons were reformed. There were holes in those sections and platoons, there was holes across the entire Division.

RSM Dalton was currently leading the platoons on the second and third floor against the Harmony fighters while Captain Demar was working with the forces dropping from the fourth and fifth floors.

Two was mostly clear and three was nearly there.

The Extractor was theirs but it had come at a high cost.

Nerva cast his gaze to the outside of the Extractor, others were still fighting, others had finished hours ago. Two more extractors had been sabotages. Their remains falling towards the planet’s core, it’s high gravity crushing the facilities.

Fearless had completed the takeover of the freighter. It had been worse than estimated. The Harmony fighters not needing to fight anyone had built defenses. While they weren’t the best they were still effective. Troopers had been mowed down with Harmony capture EMF weaponry. Booby traps lay across the whole ship.

Techs were still combing through the ship and asking for more help to get all of the surprises the Harmony fighters had left behind.

They were a determined enemy, even with a force numbering almost six times their own, they had fought annoyingly well.

Already he was getting orders to get the troopers together and ready for transport. They were going to Shipping station and then on to Masoul Actual. Fearless and Reclaimer’s drives were already spun up and their sails were being unfurled.

It seemed that someone higher was pressing buttons and they wanted Masoul secured yesterday.

It made sense in Nerva’s mind. Masoul was the center of the sphere. It was the main point where items were transported to Earth by only the biggest haulers.

Ships dropped off their goods, getting whatever their company had purchased from other companies. Shipping station wasn’t just a conduit of the sphere to Earth, it was the shopping center of the sphere. You sent a ship there with your one good and it came back with all kinds of goods from across inhabited space.

The only other place that could do that was Earth. While Earth had more items to sell, Masoul’s shipping station had the basics. It kept the sphere running.

Maybe they should have made a few other stations as backups, Nerva thought, sighing as he saw the first call for Combat Shuttles to not just move personnel into a new fight, but to extract them to the carriers.

Reports started filling his view, the leading sections were reporting their sectors as clear.

He listened, it sounded odd, there wasn’t any concentrated gunfire.

“Demar I want you and Ortiz to check the station again, get your units reformed as well,” Nerva said.

“Yes sir,” Demar said, sounding damn tired after the constant combat of almost two Earth-days.

Nerva slurped on his meal tube, realizing he hadn’t eaten in some time, the adrenaline had left his system leaving him feeling like he had a whole in his stomach.

He traced through reports landing on one that made him sigh angrily.

“Well he was off protecting his girlfriend, what did you expect, he’s motivated by emotion more than anything. At least Mark asked for permission and told Jerome to stay behind. Haas had to order the platoon onwards instead of chasing after them. Those two are leaders,” NIDenise said, reading his thoughts.

“They might be, but they won’t become leaders if they get their asses shot up running around trying to save everyone,” Nerva thought, waving the report away. He didn’t need to deal with it right now, but he would need to deal with it. Having a Section commander running off in the middle of a firefight was not good.

“They did cut the Harmony fighters off from what looks to be their main armory. Mark cut down about forty fighters by himself with a repulsor. All of them were badly wounded, Mark is currently getting sealed up, screwed up ribs, messed up side and they’re thinking it might be easier to just replace one of his legs. Seems that he was too close to the barricades when the third screamer went off. He shielded the others but got knocked out and fucked up as a result,” NIDenise said.

“That boy is getting himself in more pain than I’d like. Remind me to have them both report to me. Seems they’re in need of a little talk,” Nerva said, flicking through request for ammunition. Now the battle was won he didn’t have to worry about people running out of ammunition. In a firefight people went through rounds like they were oxygen.

Nerva refrained from pulling his helmet off, as a younger man he might have, instead he just looked over what had been the maintenance area of the extractor.

The organic lines of piping, machinery towering through multiple floors and blinking lights of control consoles were marred with black Dents and opened metal caused by explosions. Gasses whistle out of holed pipes and catwalks were twisted, warped or downright useless.

Command consoles had been blown to shit.

Blood and liquids dripped from the higher levels, thousands of bodies lay all across the station, from the living areas and command deck to the offices and down there in the bottom of it all.

Nerva looked over to a Trooper, shock on their face, an expression Nerva had seen too many times to be scared by it anymore. Still he knew that face would follow him into his dreams.

He stood and went over the trooper, a woman who’s name he hadn’t known but she was one of his, one of the people he had led into battle and wouldn’t be given the honor of leading again.

He reached through her broken helmet, his armored fingers closing her eyes, wondering if people did it to make them seem more at peace, or because their eyes seemed to dig around in your very soul. With their eyes open they almost looked human. Pressing firmly on human’s innate belief that they could survive no matter what. Other people died, but they wouldn’t.

“Death comes for us all. Life is but a brief flare of brilliance in the darkness, sometimes it might fade and fall back into darkness, and sometimes, oh the infinitely too few times, that flare helps ignite other flares into the future,” Nerva said, his face still stoic and unflinching, but his words were soft and precise.

None who knew Major ‘Iceman’ Nerva would expect that tone and heartfelt words.

All too many of them would understand the emotions warring inside of him.

To be a trooper was to defend your brothers and sisters lives. It was to stand against the anarchy of uprisings. They were the force that kept Earth and Her Colonies moving forward.

Life was so precious to them because they knew that it could be taken at any time. They lived their life to it’s fullest at every moment they could because of that knowledge. Once they were gone they were gone. It was a hard pill to swallow but one Nerva had come to accept a long time ago.

He took a deep breath of recycled air a new report of cleaner bots coming in to gather the EMF and Harmony fighter’s weapon tech. The workers would also be moving from orbit to help those that were left on the extractors to get the systems operational once again. The CEO’s had a ship coming in a year, they were still going to try and get their fuel to them in the meantime. War meant little to them, unless it paused their operations. Now the facilities were back under their control they’d push hard to keep up their end of a contract.

Hopefully Nivad or someone told their CEO’s to treat their people nicely, else there might be more than just Harmony rebelling in Masoul.

With that Nerva looked into the Combat Shuttles that had been moving wounded troopers from the extractors to Reclaimer and Fearless’ medical bays.

“All areas seem clear, I’m moving up to the upper levels to re-check them and talk to the locals up there,” Demar said, NIDenise linking Nerva into the command channel.

“Good work Demar. Ortiz, I want you to cut as many people free as you can to help the medical personnel,” Nerva said.

“Yes sir, on it,” Ortiz said.

“Dalton I want you coordinating the medical situation, if it’s working, don’t step on any toes,” Nerva said.

“Yes sir, got it, if it ain’t broken don’t fix it,” Dalton confirmed.

“We’ll have transport with us as soon as the medical cases are out of here. The carriers are warmed up and prepared to go to Shipping Station as soon as we’re all onboard. When more information comes in I’ll let you know,” Nerva said.

Green lights dotted the top of his HUD, his people getting his Division into movement.

His Division had been assigned the smallest of the extractors, some had warranted a couple of Forces. Most of them hadn’t even come under contact.

Nerva was proud with his people. Their target was supposed to be easy, when it wasn’t they didn’t complain much and they got the job done.

It also made him think that someone had it in for Third Force’s Second Division, the Two-Two was certainly getting hammered currently.

He also knew that reinforcements weren’t coming for a good long time.

“NIDenise, I want you to look in and see if someone is intentionally putting the Two-Two in Danger,” Nerva asked.

“I don’t need to, I already checked. The order came from General Wai,” she paused letting Nerva absorb the news. “Seems that while there is no evidence she thinks, correctly, that you wanted to keep her out of the battle so that you could fight it. From the reports made by Nivad he approves of your tactics. Something that looks good on her for bringing up someone like yourself, but also bad that it wasn’t her actions.”

Nerva shook his head, the rage building in him, because of her short-sighted attempt to undermine his position she had got so many of his people killed.

I wondered why my support requests weren’t going through, Nerva thought, his hand turning into a fist.

“One problem at a time, let’s get the hell out of here and save those that can be saved. We’ll be fighting soon enough, I don’t think she’s going to be as worried about little old me as she will about Harmony,” Nerva said, feeling rather than hearing NIDenise’s agreement.

Chapter 27

EMFC Reclaimer

Departing Gas Planet for Shipping Station, Masoul System

11/3240

The casualty list wasn’t pretty Jerome thought, he didn’t need to look at a surface or use his optical implants to know who was missing from the platoon or his own section.

Mcnara, Rudkin, Kauv and Ohana’s cots lay bare, their bodies on Extractor Thirteen, Huang, Dooks and Bair were in medical, Sasaki was crying on her bunk.

In all Second Division Second Regiment Alpha Company’s second platoon was down to nineteen people, ten of which were in medical bay, four more needed medical attention for when the medics weren’t getting run ragged.

Jerome looked at the cot above him, not seeing anything but thinking all too much for his liking.

He let out a sigh and rolled to his feet, pulling on the straps and catches that held his armor on his body.

Jerome hung his gear out, looking at Sasaki crying away.

“Get out of your gear and grab a shower, we’ll get some food afterwards,” Jerome said, adding enough command into his voice to get her moving.

“Yeah,” she replied, wiping her face, leaving blood and grime where tears it had already been cleaned

Jerome stripped out of his smart clothes tossing it in the armor box, shutting the door and turning the scanning and cleaning function on before heading for the shower.

He let the water run on two showers, bringing them up to temp, he wasn’t going to have a cold shower.

He got in, the water beating on his back, he stretched and moved, wincing as wounds opened. He was moaning and grunting as muscles were opened he cracked his back and popped his knuckles, closing his eyes and taking in that sweet release.

He heard Sasaki walk in the shower. He made a noise of greeting, getting a head bob in return.

They each just took in the shower, there wasn’t anything quite like it after two-days of fighting.

He touched his side, while they’d been waiting for a shuttle a medic had injected an epoxy between his ribs.

They weren’t scraping one another anymore at least.

I’ll go to the med-bay tomorrow, Jerome thought knowing that they were full of more serious cases.

Jerome lathered and cleaned off the three-day old grime of sweat and dirt.

He went through three water rations before finally stepping out of the shower, he grabbed a towel, chucked it in the bin and pulled his smart cloth pants on.

His muscles were tense and painful from fighting, falling on his bed he luxuriated in the feeling of the covers and mattress below him.

He was asleep in minutes.

***

Mark woke like a deep sea swimmer coming up for air.

He looked around seeing tubes connected to his neck tap, pumping him full of drugs.

His side was tense but it looked like the bones had fused together, the printer at the end of his foot told him he had yet another new limb.

The leg was hard and stiff but it responded to his thoughts. Someone had been kind enough to give him one with some muscle density, it was fucking weird when they gave you a chicken leg and you had to train it up.

He grabbed a water container from beside the bed, sticking the tube in his mouth he squeezed the zero-g rated water packet.

“Once the IV is completed then you are free to go,” Lucille said from the curtain.

Mark grunted, she was gone as he downed more water.

His mind rested on her for a moment before he remembered Extractor Thirteen. He squeezed the packet harder and looked to the drip going in his neck. He grabbed that pouch off of it’s rack, squeezing to speed up the drugs.

He took off his one boot, the other had been lost with his leg.

His Armor was in a reinforced bag.

Water pouch hanging from his mouth, armor in a bag over his shoulder and IV bag held in the sky he moved through the separating curtain.

More than one person stared at him as he left.

“Was wondering when you’d break out of here,” a voice came from his side, grabbing the bag from his hand.

“Hey Jerome,” Mark said, happy to see the man and giving him a one-armed embrace.

“You all sorted?” Jerome asked.

“Just need to get all of this in me,” Mark said, pulling the water container from his mouth and shaking the IV bag.

A message pinged on his implants, he checked it, finding it from Major Nerva, he wanted a meeting at Mark’s earliest convenience. It ended with, without the damn IV bag and a new set of clothes.

Mark snorted.

“Something up?” Jerome asked as Mark started walking again.

“Iceman wants to see me, wants this thing drained and me in new clothes,” Mark said as they left the med-bay. The medics looked at their passing, seeing the IV held aloft. After a shrug or a sigh, they went back to their work, it wasn’t the weirdest thing they’d seen.

“Yeah, Tyler’s got a meeting today as well, he might be at it already,” Jerome said.

They got on a lift and headed for their platoon’s area.

“Haas was called for a meeting for later tonight. A service is being held tomorrow if people want to attend, people can do their own services whenever on the flight deck, hangar Alpha-One,” Jerome said.

“Okay,” Mark said, his own thoughts and memories of Extractor Thirteen flashing through his mind.

They stepped out of the lift, Mark’s new leg moving awkwardly.

“Damn thing isn’t fully working yet, all seized. Needs to get some good blood flow through it,” Mark complained, shaking it in an effort to speed up it’s recovery. His complaining was getting a few looks, Mark and Jerome gave passing greetings, knowing more people from this area than anywhere else on the ship.

“Gym later?” Jerome asked, looking forward to the therapeutic aspects of pushing one’s body and letting the world melt away.

“Read my mind,” Mark said, grinning to the other and then squirting water in his mouth.

“You just want to stare at ass all day,” Jerome sighed as they reached Mark’s door, it opened letting them in.

“I’m an ass guy, I have enough staring at my own sculpted rear that it’s only fair,” Mark grinned.

His face became somber as he looked at the three cots whose owners wouldn’t be returning to them.

“Hey Sarge,” Dominguez said from her bunk.

“Hey you lot,” Mark said, people all over the place, playing cards, reading books, some were still in the med-bay and others were out wandering the ship.

Mark opened his locker using the door to hold his IV as he stripped. Jerome pulled armor out of his bag and put it up in Mark’s locker.

“Any word if we’re getting assimilated into a new unit?” Mark asked.

“None yet,” Jerome said, but he didn’t sound like he thought that they were staying together. There was too few of them all in brand new positions and so many units were missing people. It made sense to collapse their platoon and fill up the spots in other units.

No one wanted to do that, but they would if ordered to.

Mark threw his old smart clothes in the junk chute, they were holed, burned and the leg was missing on his pants.

“Time for a freaking shower! Thanks for putting my armor away,” Mark said.

“No worries bro, though I think you’re going to need a few new panels,” Jerome said, throwing some side armor, a shin and forearm section into the chute.

Mark looked at his battle-stained and scratched armor.

“Yeah I’ll get Joe to take a look at it soon when we’re done with all those meetings,” Mark said, wandering into the showers.

“Fire me a message when you’re done,” Jerome said as Mark turned a shower on.

“Will do!” Mark said hooking his IV around the shower head.

Oh I’m going to be happy to get rid of you, he thought staring daggers at the annoying bag.

“You playing euchre? Mind if I join?” Mark heard Jerome ask.

“Sure, grab a seat, Niemi was just about to go on a hot date,” Dominguez said.

“Yep, gunner from Charlie, the tongue on him, hot damn!” Niemi said.

“Have fun!” Tal called.

“Oh I will,” Niemi answered, the sections door opening and closing.

And to think she was so shy when she started in this section, what happened! Mark let out a laugh as unbidden memories of the others in his section rose up in his mind.

At one time they had been strangers, training and shooting the shit with one another had turned them into people willing to lay down their lives for eachother.

Silent tears fell down his face as he showered.

***

Nerva heard the knock at his door, his implants telling him that it was Tyler.

“Come in,” he said, a flick of his wrist clearing the latest report from his view and focusing his icy blue eyes on Tyler Victor who marched into the room, coming to attention and saluting.

Nerva returned the salute but left him at attention as he looked over the newly minted Sergeant.

His shoulder bearing the two lines over a dot that denoted his rank.

“The fuck were you thinking?” Nerva asked, seeing Tyler’s attempts to hide his wince.

“I...” Tyler started.

“We both know what I’m talking about,” Nerva said, cutting off Tyler’s possible actions to derail the conversation.

“I fucked up sir. I saw that my section was in a good position. I knew that they would be fine and let my emotions carry me,” Tyler admitted, his jaw firming up as he continued to burn a hole in the wall behind Nerva.

“Your section might have been in a good position, but losing their leader in the middle of a firefight isn’t going to be of much use if that situation changes.” Nerva held up a finger, making Tyler pull back the comment forming on his lips.

“We both know how quickly a battle can and will change. Yes, you might have a good section, but they need a leader to have their back and be on track, not someone that’s going to run off if his girlfriend is in danger,” Nerva said interlacing his fingers.

“Yes sir,” Tyler said, his tone making it clear that Nerva’s words were hitting home and his answer wasn’t just rote response.

“See that it doesn’t happen again, if I have to have this conversation again it will be inside the ring and I’ll be pulling those lines from your shoulder,” Nerva said.

“Yes sir,” Tyler said, swallowing hard.

“Now get out of here and apologize to your section and report to Second Lieutenant Haas,” Nerva said sitting back in his chair grabbing thin air and pulling it up, the report he’d been looking at before Tyler entered appearing in his vision again.

Tyler turned for the door and walked out.

The door closed as Nerva let out a sigh, rubbing his temples.

“It’s even harder when you care for them. Aurelius is asking for you to return to the Legion again. He says that you’ve been in the EMF too long. Other recruiters are now within the EMF and capable of taking up your job. With General Wai now looking to grinding down you and your Division it’s just harder. I agree that you should also fake your death and extract,” NIDenise said.

“What about the new recruits?” Nerva thought-spoke.

“Over three hundred Legion recruits are aboard the stealth shuttles and moving for the freighter,” NIDenise said, understanding that for now Nerva was closing down that particular conversation.

“Captain Harold?” Nerva asked.

“He’s alive and well, not too happy about the way he was extracted, thinks that he could have saved more people if he was still alive,” NIDenise reported.

“He’ll do well in the Legion, they need more people like him to win against the Maraukians. Even though Ortiz has agreed to join the Legion I need him where he is for the next little bit, Demar and Shultz are new to their positions. Until they get some more seasoning Ortiz is going to need to stay where he is. When it comes for him to be extracted he’s not going to be happy at all. That man lives for his people,” Nerva said, which was a big part of why he had taken a risk on the Captain when he had just been a Lieutenant.

The other recruits were picked by the three other recruiters across Reclaimer. Nerva had been doing this for much longer, he could pick out people that would join the Legion within the initial meeting.

Hell he was grooming Mark, Tyler, Jerome and his entire Division to join the Legion, but he was careful about who he picked. A few he had Chosen had flipped out at being pulled from the EMF, thinking that they betrayed those they left behind, that made them next too useless.

“For now we focus on destroying Harmony, with the sleeping-carriers coming into battle the Legion will be getting more recruits than ever before. Aurelius needs me right where I am whether he knows it or not. I’m in the perfect position to fake deaths and get people funneled into the Legion. Now when’s my next meeting?” Nerva asked.

“Ten minutes, Mark is hobbling up here,” NIDenise said.

“Good,” Nerva said out loud, finding where he had left off on the report and continuing on.

***

Mark saluted and hobbled his way through officer territory to Nerva’s door.

“Come in,” Nerva said before he knocked.

He opened the door and walked in, trying to hide his slight limp. He came to attention.

“Sit down,” Nerva said before he could salute.

“Thank you, sir,” Mark said, shuffling into his seat and stretching out his leg which was going through the pins and needles stage.

Nerva waved the sir away and reclined in his chair, making it clear that this was a relaxed conversation.

Mark in turn relaxed in his chair, shaking his leg.

“That treating you alright?” Nerva asked, pointing through his desk at Mark’s leg.

“Yeah just takes time as you know,” Mark said.

“Wonders of medical science,” Nerva said, pausing as if wondering how to continue on.

“First of all I know that it was probably hard for you to ask permission to go after Tyler, but it needed to be done. Making sure Jerome stayed and electing to have someone take over yours and Tyler’s command slots was also well done,” Nerva said, holding Mark’s eyes.

Mark fidgeted, not one to take praise easily.

“Thank you sir,” Mark said.

Nerva knew Mark well enough to tell when the big man had a question.

“Spit it out,” Nerva said.

“Are you breaking up the platoon, I know we’re under-strength and it would be best to use us to patch gaps in other units,” Mark said.

Nerva toyed with the idea of letting Mark wait until the meeting with his platoon later.

“No you’re not, instead because of your size and new orders you’re staying together.” Nerva raised a hand to forestall questions for a moment.

“Second Lieutenant Haas has the details, you’ll get it all from him,” Nerva assured him.

“Thank you sir,” Mark said.

Chapter 28

Tower

Earth, Sol System

11/3240

Nivad was going through the latest messages from the agents in Masoul while looking over the footage of the Extractors.

The viewership was the highest ever, people that weren’t even CEO’s were streaming it in bars and other places to watch the EMF kick Harmony fighter ass.

Nivad had a whole new viewer package created for the duration of the conflict, it was cheaper and gave less views, but it allowed more of the masses to gain access to the feeds. People from across Earth and Her Colonies were watching the EMF put Harmony down.

He flicked his personal account out of view, he had already made more money than most planets made in a year.

His best agent in Masoul wasn’t pleased with the operation he’d ordered, but they would carry it out.

Nivad wanted this fight to go smoothly, Harmony outnumbered the EMF in the system by nearly thirty times. There was four and a half million of them on Masoul Actual. Most had been indoctrinated since Harmony took over thirty-five years ago.

All they knew was how to fight and follow orders.

Nivad’s agent was good at getting technical details and was still weeding out who Harper was getting his orders from, but he didn’t have a clue about military matters.

So Nivad was going to have a few military personnel insert themselves into Masoul Actual. It was the task of the Agent to get them sorted out and let them go snooping for information that the carriers would need.

“Ahh Harper, you annoying enigma,” Nivad said as for the first time he saw Harper’s face, the picture wasn’t the best, taken from a recording but with three other views Nivad parsed together to resolve it into a clearer shot.

“Run facial recognition, all systems, excluding Luyten, Earth, and Masoul,” Nivad said.

That was nearly two-billion people it would take a few minutes.

While it ran he looked over the progress reports on the new scout ship that had just completed the blue-print stage. The hull and the heat sink system were new to keep the ship undetectable.

The crew selection was already underway with Wallace working on the project it would be completed as fast as it could be. The ship would head out towards the systems that had been left as an enigma past Luyten.

He would find out what made EMF carriers vanish and why there was a ban against all attempts to colonize the systems over there.

It was too much of a question mark to not look into.

The search pinged a result, Nivad looked up from his surface to the screen that dominated his wall, seeing the face of the same man entering a deep-space freighter some seventy-four years before.

He sent the file off to Dalia, with instructions to find out what he had done before getting on that freighter.

Then he looked to the communications records from the communication system, looking for any and all messages to Osdal. There were three from CEO’s talking about different traders. Nivad copied them to Dalia asking her to have code crackers over them.

In his gut he knew they weren’t the messages he was looking for, which made him curious.

How the hell was Harper talking to his masters if he wasn’t using the FTL systems in Masoul.

He’s using his own somewhere else. The thought made a smile spread across his face as he searched for extra relays in other systems.

He didn’t find any but he didn’t expect to.

The FTL network worked because it was untraceable, stealth satellites fired their messages to the hidden in-system relay which then fired FTL particles at identical receiver-transceiver models in another system which shot out the messages through a similar laser-satellite network.

They were untraceable, but they had to be deployed somewhere and they weren’t going to do that themselves. A ship had to drop them off. The crews that had dropped off the original FTL relays were long dead, Nivad was the only person that knew all of their locations and how to find them again.

He brought up ship manifests searching for ships that had a slow transit and didn’t have a full hold heading to Masoul.

There were hundreds of results, he added in extra search filters until he came to one ship, going from Osdal to Masoul.

He sent a message to Wallace, ordering him to meet him later.

He needed to know where the FTL relay was, who was using and then take it and the entire network connected to it, apart. A perfect job for the scout ships.

Controlling the networks was his best way for knowing what was going on with the people. Information was power, leaving that FTL relay out there was just a problem waiting to happen.

He pressed a button on his desk, connecting him to his secretary.

“Have the Commander of the EMF meet me for lunch at Cafe liberte,” Nivad released the button, ending the call.

He would move more of the sleeper carriers out towards Osdal, they would move in, ready for when Osdal stepped out of line.

For the first time in a long time, Nivad was enjoying his job as spy-master.

It is so much more interesting when people know how to play the game, he thought to himself, a smile that would never be called kind spreading across his lips.

He was looking forward to the reports from his operative in Masoul Actual. It wouldn’t be long before he and the EMF troopers started putting their own plans into motion.

Chapter 29

EMFC Reclaimer

Departing Gas Planet for Shipping Station, Masoul System

11/3240

The higher ups were taking their time in reaching Shipping Station, they could have been there a week ago but they were going slowly and carefully.

Jerome looked at the rest of the platoon which was pushed into the conference room meant for the higher ups.

The seats certainly feel like it, he thought. The chair once again moved to fit his body, it was softer than some of the beds he’d rented on Resolute station a few nights.

Nerva walked into the room, holding honest to god paper information packets, he dropped them in front of Haas who took one and pushed it down the table.

Nerva pressed a button a light buzzing filling the room.

“You’re all going to Masoul Actual instead of Shipping Station,” Nerva started, he held up his hand stopping the noises before they turned into words.

“You will be acting as Harmony fighters, moving to Masoul Actual and working to soften up the forces there. You may have noticed Lieutenant Yu, his second Young and cargo master Duncan,” Nerva said, pointing to each.

“Bobbie please sir,” Duncan said.

Nerva nodded and continued on.

“They’re not just here to look pretty, they will be your flight crew to get you to Masoul Actual. They will also be working with you to send us real-time information on the ground. You will be our eyes and ears, we will be doing an orbital drop on Masoul, we want to make sure we take the damn place. It’s estimated that there’s six million people on the planet, that’s nearly twenty-seven times our own forces,” Nerva looked to them all, everyone focused on him.

“We know that there are people that hate Harmony, we want to focus that hatred and turn them against Harmony, help spread their fall by turning them inside out. Your objectives are in the folders as well as how you can contact the operative on the planet. Unless there’s something of military importance, take everything he says as if it was coming from me. He’s been behind enemy lines since this all began and he’s done a hell of a lot for us. If you don’t remember the rest of the objectives on that sheet, remember this. Do anything and everything to gather the most information possible so we can get your fellow troopers and Combat Shuttles on the ground. Then fuck with everything and anything useful to the Harmony forces.” Hard faces nodded around the room, jokes and smiles were gone, all of them focused on the job at hand.

Nerva wasn’t just putting a lot of trust in them, he was putting the lives of two hundred and twenty-three thousand EMF souls at risk. They would succeed or die trying.

“Now let’s get you orientated with the situation on the ground,” Nerva said.

***

Tyler and Alexis wandered to the observatory. Alexis seemed to have something on her mind as they walked in and sat down.

“Something up?’ Tyler asked.

She looked to him, her face serious. Shit, what did I do now?

“Where do you see us going?” She asked.

Fuck.

“Umm, to Masoul?” He said, her face fought to break out in a smile.

“No, like do you see us as staying like this forever?” She asked.

“Could you get to the point, I’m a little lost,” Tyler asked.

“Do you want to get married?” She asked.

“Well that was not what I was expecting at all,” Tyler said his face creasing into laugh lines as he looked thoughtful. After a few moments she gave him a light punch.

“Sorry, zoned out,” he said with a laugh, getting another punch.

“Jerk,” she accused a nervous smile on her face.

He looked at her, seeing their lives together, the love they shared, the care. They’d fought like hell to survive and always come back to one another. That all fell away as he saw the vulnerability lingering behind those eyes. She was revealing all her weaknesses to him.

He was on a knee holding her hand before he knew what he was doing.

“Wha…”

“I love you, you are the person I lean on and come back to after every fight. Would you fight by my side for the rest of our lives?” Tyler said cutting her off.

Tears sprouted in her eyes as she used her other hand to cover her mouth.

“Be warned I, wait,” Tyler flicked an arm to his side, brandishing one of his blades with it’s ring-handle that slid on like a brass knuckle with the blade pointed up or down. “Will you look at that; I do have a ring!” He grinned and held it up.

She couldn’t help but laugh, the rich noise making his heart dance in his chest and the tension that he didn’t know was in his gut lighten.

She jumped on him, bringing him to the ground smothering him in hugs and kisses.

“Soooooo, yes?” Tyler asked after a pause.

“Yes you dolt,” she laughed, her eyes sparkling as he wrapped his arms around her and never wanted to let go.

***

The entire platoon was messing around; they’d come together in more ways than one. Tyler’s wedding to Alexis would be tomorrow and Jerome for one wasn’t going to miss it.

People talked and joked, eating and pushing the thoughts of what would happen in two days to the back of their minds. They had come together as sections, platoons and companies, all the way through the carrier.

“Fuck I love apple pie,” Dashtund said, on his third helping of the stuff.

“You like anything with sugar in it,” Bale said.

“And you aren’t on your fourth plate of food?” Dashtund shot back.

“Mans got to eat, don’t want to get all scrawny like you,” Bale said with a smile. Bale and Dooks parents must have some similar heritage to have two boys that size. They were muscle bound, strong and damned good at their job. They also ate more than any two other people, except maybe Mark and Tyler.

“How the hell do you put that all away?” Jerome asked Tyler.

“I chew and swallow,” Tyler retorted with a smile, shoveling more food into his face.

“Like the human vacuums around here,” Jerome said, slapping Ohana’s hand sneaking for his pseudo bacon.

“Oi! Mine!” Jerome said, giving her a dirty look but only getting laughs in return. His look transformed into a smile.

“Looks like someone is here for you Sarge,” Mcnara said, using a spoon to point behind him.

Jerome looked, seeing Garcia, they locked eyes and both grinned. She started excusing herself from her table and Jerome looked to his fellows.

“Well it seems that I must be going. See you tomorrow for the big day!” Jerome grinned to the blushing Tyler and Alexis sitting beside one another.

A few people weren’t happy with the arrangement, mostly higher ups, something about military discipline. They should know the number of relationships that went on between the troopers. Everyone was attached in some way.

Getting married was just a very official way of doing things.

If they had an issue, there was a company that would happily back up the two, maybe the division as Major Nerva would be the one presiding over the ceremony in the auditorium.

He left the table to a few catcalls and whistles before they found something else interesting.

“Hey,” Jerome said, feeling a tightness in his chest. He knew he needed to end whatever they had going on before tomorrow so that they didn’t have linger feelings before their drop.

“Hey yourself,” she said dimpling cutely as they dumped their trays.

“So, mess?” Jerome asked.

“Wanna buy a girl a beer?” Garcia asked.

“Sure,” Jerome grinned and they talked about what had been going on in the last days of their training. Off loading, relaxing, and pushing it behind them. They grabbed beers and sidled over to a cubicle.

“So, this has to be the last time,” Jerome said, finding it hard to meet her eyes.

“Who said anything about anything happening this time?” Garcia joked sipping her beer.

“It’s best for both of us that we clear our minds before we go to Masoul. We don’t need crap getting in the way before we touch down,” Jerome said softly.

“Yes, that might be true, but you’re forgetting one thing,” Garcia said her tone serious but not in a harsh way.

“What?” Jerome said as she took her time drinking.

“Look if we die, do we want to die stopping ourselves from doing something we both like? I think that’s a bit dumb. We all die at sometime, if we find something fun then we should do it. In our case that’s a little more literally, but you get the point,” she said a wicked smile hiding behind her beer bottle.

Jerome laughed and took a drink of his own. She had a point, what the hell was he trying to stop. He liked her, yes she was good in the sac, the best he’d ever had, but more than that, he could talk to her like a friend. They weren’t all over one another like Alexis and Tyler but different people liked different things.

“Alright, then it looks like I have nothing else I can say,” Jerome said, his own brain already working against him.

“Well what if I told you I had a room reserved for us tomorrow night?”

“I’d say, I hope you’ve got a few beers to go along with that,” Jerome said leaning forward.

“Now that’s the Jerome I know,” Garcia said with a grin. “Well that and the bastard that yelled at me, stuck my arm to my side, pumped me with drugs and told me to shut the hell up.”

“Well you were moving around a lot, plus you are loud. In all aspects,” Jerome said, his turn to hide his expression behind his beer, a wicked gleam to his eye.

“Well at least you know what’s going on, and it’s not my fault I’m always so loud,” she growled, leaning into the table.

Jerome laughed.

“Here I was thinking that people were supposed to be quiet in the library.” He got a kick under the table, the foot returning a few moments later and rubbing his leg. He looked to her with raised eyebrows.

“Something wrong?”

“Nothing, I was wondering if you wanted to disturb anyone trying to read a book,” Jerome said, the picture of innocence.

“Maybe,” she purred.

“Good, me too.” Jerome leaned in grabbing her hair and dragging her into a hungry kiss. They left the beers there. They were two Troopers that were going to make the very most of the next two days of freedom before they were put on ice.

Got to enjoy what you have, when you have it. You don’t know when it might all disappear, Jerome thought, for perhaps a millisecond before his brain turned to other things, and he moved faster down towards the library.

Garcia caught up.

“Having any second thoughts?” She purred.

Jerome looked to her, blatantly looking her over.

“Nope, not one, couldn’t understand what I was thinking,” he said, fighting away his thoughts to the contrary, grinning as they burst through the libraries door.

***

Mark watched as Alexis and Tyler came down the aisle of the auditorium, looking embarrassed, anxious and excited as hell. Mark could see the way their hands were white from gripping onto one another.

The Auditorium was nearly filled with people. Most of the Division had come out for the event.

“Well that is a good sight,” Nerva said out of the corner of his mouth to Mark.

“Your damn right Nerva,” Mark said unable to keep a smile from splitting his face wide open.

They finally got to the stage at the centre of the auditorium. Mark was on Alexis’ side and Jerome was on Tyler’s side.

“Alexis Xin will you look after this boy no matter what and try to keep him out of trouble?” Nerva asked.

“Yes, though I can’t guarantee the trouble thing,” she smiled, looking to Tyler who looked like his face would crack with the massive grin across his mug.

“Will you, Tyler Victor, treat this girl right and try to not make her a delinquent like yourself?’ Nerva asked.

“I will try,” Tyler smiled, his eyes only for Alexis.

“Mark,” Nerva said. Mark pulled out two rings.

“Alexis,” Nerva said giving her a ring, she put it on Tyler’s hand. Nerva handed the other to Tyler who did the same to Alexis’ hand.

“Let the records show that on this day, Alexis Xin and Tyler Victor were joined in marriage,” Nerva said, yells came from the watching crowd as they grabbed one another and kissed.

They muttered words to one another, their eyes lost in one another’s gaze.

Mark felt an itch in his eyes as the two looked to the crowd and then Jerome and Mark.

Mark wrapped them both in a massive bear hug. Jerome added himself to the mess. Nerva tapped them on the shoulder with an honest to god smile on his face.

“Get in here Major!” Alexis yelled. Mark and Jerome, not about to let the lady of the day not get her demands pulled the excusing Nerva into the embrace. Mark heard the rolling laughter as he felt Nerva’s arms wrap around them giving them a rough squeeze.

Then the hugging five some came apart and everyone else was there congratulating the two. Mark patted his side pocket.

“Damn, that was close,” he said, pulling out and displaying a box of Cohlean cigars from his side pocket. A twinge of memory as he remembered Gupta’s love for the smoke stacks.

“Those will do very nice in the mess,” Jerome said, Mark putting them away to the smiles of Nerva and Jerome.

“Food will be in the cafeteria, then drinks in the enlisted mess,” Nerva said, his commanding voice cutting through the commotion. People acknowledge the announcement and went back to talking.

“See you later,” Mark said to Tyler and Alexis, half-interrupting their talk with Holm and Ali.

Tyler grinned and nodded.

Jerome and Nerva trailed off to the cafeteria, a message came in through Mark’s implants, he checked it. It was a message from a lady called Madeline Costa.

Dear Mr. Victor and Mr. Gomez,

My grandfather told me to send you a report every fifteen years or when something had happened. I am writing this to tell you two things, first the company is succeeding and we are looking to adding another dock to the shipyard. We are continuing along the plan you outlined to create massive inner-system freighters and then move to system to system freighter.

The mines have expanded and we are doing good trade there.

The second reason I am writing this instead of my grandfather. Is because he has died. He meant to send you a message telling you that Quentin Richter has also died but two years ago his mind started to slip. I took over and it is only as I am going through his message logs that I realized he never sent the message.

The gang that Richter led is now under the command of a man called Damon Merles. He had a message for Mr. Victor that I have attached as well with the records for our operating years. I have also added a secured transcript from the bank detailing your account details.

Thank you for the opportunities that you gave my grandfather and my family. I will make sure that ‘the yard’ keeps running. Please let me know if you need anything else.

Sincerely

Madeline Costa

Manager of ‘The Yard’

Mark looked over to Jerome whose eyes were blank for a few seconds, Mark’s had sadness in his own.

It had been a few months for them since they had seen Costa and Richter, while setting up their plans for the future. For Costa and Richter, it had been thirty-seven years. Life extension treatments had kept them going, but it was late in the game for them and damned expensive.

Mark saw the rest of the message, other notes, various spreadsheets, blueprints and a data packet that contained the information of Mark’s account.

Jerome sighed and nodded, telling Mark he was okay.

“Something happen?” Nerva asked, watching the by-play as they got into the cafeteria.

“Two of our close friends back home have died, Quentin was one of them,” Mark said, remembering that Nerva and Quentin had been Captain’s together before Quentin reached his retirement age.

Nerva’s face became tight.

“It’s hard being out here as those that you knew wither away in what feels like years,” Nerva said tired wisdom in those words.

“Focus on celebrating the time you had with them, not being apart. Today of all days should be one of fun.” He brought himself up to full commanding height, his eyes chilling. “As your Major I now order the two of you to eat, drink, smoke and have a damned good day,” he glowered at them both.

They gave their agreements, their pensive frowns turning into smiles.

“Good, now get in front I want some damned food before the rest of them pile in here,” Nerva said.

They went through the lines grabbing food and seeing the cake that the cooks had whisked up for the couple. Jerome, Mark and Nerva grabbed a table, shooting the shit. Others of the party flowed in, most of them kept away from the table, having a Major hanging around probably made a bunch of them nervous.

Dashtund grabbed a seat.

“I think I should get married,” he started off with, shovelling food into his face.

“Just why the hell would you want to do that?” Jerome asked, others that were filling the table also looking at Dashtund in interest.

“Did ew se de ize of dat ake?” Dashtund said through a mouthful of food.

“Ahh, I guess this is the infamous Dashtund I’ve heard so much about,” Nerva said, looking to Mark.

“I believe so Major,” Mark said, seeing Dashtund squirm a little in his seat.

Alexis and Tyler came in through the doors, people all around them and cheers were coming from the people in the cafeteria. Tyler bowed and Alexis looked like she was going to melt on the spot.

Tyler planted a kiss on her lips, cheers turning into whistles and hollering.

It died down as the two made it to the food line, the cooks wheeled out a cake. Tyler and Alexis cut it, the cooks then started divvying it up so Tyler and Alexis could get some food into them. They sat down next to Nerva, people quickly filling the table. Everyone seemed to have something to say and smiles colored everyone’s faces.

Trays were cleared away and Tyler announced their next destination.

“To the mess!” He barked, pointing for the door. People laughed and joined the procession. They walked in, Mark and Jerome inviting Nerva, Captain Ortiz and Sholtz. They grabbed a table, Mark gave Nerva the box of Cohelans to distribute as he went to find Alexis.

He tapped her shoulder, pulling out a wrapped package from his pants pocket.

“Mark! What’s up?” She asked, Mark realizing that she was at a table of primarily girls and remembering what she had said about meeting more women.

“I have something for you,” he said, hoping to cut her off before she made the same connections he’d just made.

“Oh?” She said, spying the package. Mark handed it to her and she pulled it apart.

She pulled out the twin knives, identical to the ones that Mark and Tyler hid under their arms, complete with a smart cloth holster.

“Oh Mark,” she said, tears filling her eyes as she wrapped her arms around his neck. He hugged her.

“Welcome to the family,” he whispered, holding his sister tight.

***

It was the morning after the wedding, everyone was still buzzing about it. Mark was happy, it kept their minds off the fact that in less than twenty-four hours his platoon would be continuing their journey to Masoul Actual with Harmony dusters and guns aboard a captured shuttle. The rest of the troopers would be fighting their way across Shipping Station.

The taste of booze and cigars still coated his throat. No orange juice or mouth wash could fully remove the taste.

He’d been reminded how bad that combination tasted together as his orange juice sat by itself in an island of despair.

He shook thinking of that particular mixture.

He scrolled through his surface, he’d gone through the last minute checks for his section and now he was looking through the information that Madeline had sent.

Jerome and Garcia walked in, grabbing food and coming to sit next to Mark.

“Morning,” Jerome said.

“You two look chipper,” Mark grinned, Jerome sighed as Garcia grinned happily.

“What you doing?” Garcia asked.

“Looking over a message and doing last minute checks, pretty boring stuff,” Mark said, putting the surface to sleep, catching the thoughtful look on Jerome’s face. It looked like he’d reminded Jerome of the message from Earth.

“Though some people have other things on their mind,” Mark teased, smiling at Jerome.

“Well yes they do,” Jerome said with his own smile, looking to Garcia.

“Boys,” she laughed, Mark and Jerome quickly joining in

They talked about the topics of the day, mostly Alexis and Tyler’s wedding, the debauchery that had gone on in the mess. How Captain Ortiz had drunk three groups under the table and continued to drink just because he could.

“I swear that man was on a constant detox,” Jerome said, shaking his head. Alexis and Tyler came in looking like a million credits. People smiled and waved, they made quiet conversation as they made their way to the table.

“Did you give it to him yet?” Tyler asked as he sat down.

“Not yet,” Mark said, both of them looking to Jerome with smiles on their faces.

“What?” Jerome asked warily, Mark could see he was checking around to see if someone was going to prank him.

Mark pulled a package from his thigh.

“Do you want to tell the story?” Mark asked Tyler.

“Sure.”

“So Mark was getting extra blades for both of us and decided to get a few extras made for our newest brother,” Tyler said, Mark gave Jerome the package, he opened it, finding identical blades to the ones Tyler and Mark wore. Which now Alexis did as well.

“Oh you fuckers,” he said his eyes getting watery, as he reached across the table grabbing both of their necks and hugging them.

“There is a hell of a lot of hugging going on,” Mark said, laughing and tapping Jerome’s back. They released and Jerome played with the blades.

“So what do you think, bro?” Tyler said, leaning on an elbow and eating a piece of delicious bacon.

“I think these are some damned nice blades,” he laughed.

“We’ll show you how to use them, you’re going to get some uncomfortable callouses for the first little bit,” Mark said.

“Garcia can help you learn when to get them the hell out of the way during, uhh. Other activities,” Alexis said, she and Garcia sharing a smile.

“Well I’m off to check the gear some more and sort out some damned paperwork,” Mark said, excusing himself. “I should have that paperwork ready for you, if you want to do a fifty-fifty split?”

“I trust you, sounds good,” Jerome said.

“Mind you don’t nick your arms with those things, did that so many damned times before I got the hang of it,” Mark nodded to the blades.

“Thanks, makes them sound so much more fun,” Jerome said dryly.

Mark laughed and left the cafeteria, he was looking over the rest of the information Madeline had sent him. She had a number of ideas of how to expand, the biggest being retailors of cheap refined materials within Sol. They were making a brisk trade swapping ores for parts at certain manufacturers. They had five yards not just the one and the skeleton hidden in the asteroid belt.

She wanted to make a fuel refiner to turn some of the asteroids ice into fuel and make a solar farm to cut their reliance on the fuel companies. Though the start-up costs were a decent chunk of change.

She said that they could make freighters and they’d be good if they went with the standard size. Yet if they went with super freighters, measuring not three or less kilometers, but three or more. They could make a lot more money shifting that freight. Again massive upfront cost and fuel was going to be a pain.

She didn’t want to have engines and tech from other companies, she wanted to make it in-house. Which meant that reading between the lines she wanted to have a research and development team looking at speeding up the transport and making them a damned sight cheaper.

She had listed how much the initiatives were calculated to costs, along with projected profits in the twenty to fifty-year range.

Thankfully the one thing that didn’t need developing was the people. Well they could grow, but they were solid and reliable. Nearly all of them were descendants from the original workers. The additional workers had been pulled from EMF retirees that could stay off the drink long enough to function, then others from Westerly three complex and the greenhouses.

Mark totalled up the numbers as he got to the armory, he waved his greeting to the bored looking armorer that was reading a book.

“Hey Joe,” Mark said.

“Mark, what brings you about these parts?” Joe asked.

“Just looking for some peace and quiet,” Mark said.

“My armory is your armory,” Joe said, waving to the racks and getting back to the work of reading.

Mark grabbed a seat on some ammunition boxes and opened up the accounts tab. He had to use his thumb print with a series of questions and a recording, then it finally opened to show him his earnings.

He thought the ammunition had exploded underneath him as he looked at the numbers on the screen. The mining business in Sol was a Quadrillion credit mule.

Mark’s two-and-a-half million credit debt was replaced with a healthy twenty-seven billion profit. The greenhouses had spread their information across all of Earth. Adding a further ten billion to the pot.

He opened a channel to Jerome, using his new vocal cord implant.

“That wasn’t long,” Jerome said.

“Come to the armories, say you need to check your gear and bring your surface. You’re going to want to see this, and come alone,” Mark said.

“Be there in a minute,” Jerome’s voice became serious, almost anxious.

Five minutes later and Jerome was in the armories, looking like he’d run the entire way.

“How fucked are we?” Jerome asked.

“What?” Mark said, confused, before realizing that Jerome must have thought it was bad news.

“Open your account and check your numbers,” Mark said.

Jerome did so, his face grim as he went through the security checks.

“Holy fuck!” He yelled.

“Shut up will you,” Mark barked, looking around to see if anyone had heard him.

Jerome walked over to a bench as if his legs were lead, sinking down onto it. The numbers pulling his eyes into them.

“Not bad is it,” Mark grinned.

“You ass, I thought we were fucked in debt,” Jerome growled.

“Oh well, Madeline wants about twenty-four billion for all of her projects. If we want to get her starting to work on super-freighters then all of it will be gone again,” Mark said.

“All of it?” Jerome said, sounding almost pained.

“Well a few hundred million to spare,” Mark shrugged.

“That’s a hell of a lot,” Jerome growled.

“Look, we spent ten million and got a hell of a lot more. I say we put our faith in her and see what she can do. Plus a few hundred million is more than enough to do whatever we want when we retire. If we don’t make it back then we aren’t going to be able to spend the money, and who knows how long this campaign will take,” Mark said, sensing that Jerome wasn’t convinced yet.

“Look we’ve been in the EMF for a hundred and sixty years technically. We’ve been awake for three and a half of those years. We do this now and the next time we wake up will be in four years. We don’t know how long we’ll be in Masoul for. Though if we go straight from Masoul back to Sol it’s still another thirty-six years. In that time, even if the yard doesn’t make these projected earnings, we still have the greenhouses going and they’re expecting to explode with their new project to spread the trees across the system. We get fifteen percent of all those earnings,” Mark said, realizing as he went that they weren’t building a retirement fund anymore, they were building a small empire.

“You have a point,” Jerome said.

“I don’t usually like to waste oxygen,” Mark said dryly.

“Fuck it, let’s do it,” Jerome said. They spent the next few hours going over all the damned paperwork, firing funds off and preparing their own data packages, one for Westerly three complex, another for the greenhouses and one for Madeline Costa.

“Now let’s go and waste the rest of the day,” Mark said, standing.

“Sounds good to me,” Jerome said, standing.

Chapter 30

Bandit One

Shipping Station to Masoul Actual, Masoul System.

11/3240

“This thing is a piece of shit,” Bobbie said. Yu didn’t say anything. It wasn’t the first time Bobbie had said that, nor did Yu think it’d be the last.

He’s also not wrong either, Yu thought, looking at the repairs that had been done to the shuttle. It looked like someone had used a slum to put the craft together, there was space tape holding sections together, the second engine had an intermittent fault, and the inter-atmosphere flaps were tiny, making them all but useless if they were to enter atmosphere at any speed. Whoever had made the thing was a fucking idiot that had never flown before.

Yu couldn’t understand why someone would use the damn thing. Yet he was stuck with it. Nerva and higher didn’t want anyone messing around with the ship. The fewer people working on it, the fewer messages were passed around.

Thankfully, Bobby was handy with a welder and Young was gold at soldering. They’d beaten the shuttle into workable shape and fired up the reactors.

Their fellows wandered across the hangar. Their armor and weapons were staying on Reclaimer, now they wore dusters, and the weapons of the Harmony hit squads. They were the enforcers of Harmony’s mandates.

Under their clothes were weapons, hung off of cords, like gangs on Earth did.

“Welcome to the fucking dumpster hauler,” Bobbie grumbled, getting a few laughs and grins from the troopers. They had all gone to Tyler and Alexis’ wedding. A bit of booze and a good celebration brought people together as few things did. Everyone got into the shuttle, where the whining clunking hydraulics and quiet conversation could be heard from the back.

“Hey, Yu, Young,” Second Lieutenant Haas said, walking up the few steps to the cockpit and watching the two pilots as they worked their systems.

“Hey, Jonas,” Yu replied, one of his screens flickering. “Piece of shit,” Yu slapped it to bring it back into focus.

“I love this shuttle so much I could bark fucking rainbows,” Young said.

“You two had caffeine yet?” Haas asked, sounding worried.

“Yup,” Yu said.

“Two cups,” Young flashed a smile.

“Ah, shit,” Haas said, going from worried to an ‘I don’t get paid enough for this shit’ sigh.

“Yeah, you got it,” Yu said, checking the lights above his head, igniting the engines, and bringing them up to power.

“Doors are sealed, everyone’s helmets are on and tapped into the O-line. I don’t trust this shuttle at all and we’re going to pump out the air before leaving. Things a fucking shit show,” Bobbie said from the shuttle’s small cargo bay.

There weren’t any seats so troopers were spread out on the floor, using their duffels to get some kind of comfort.

Bobbie was checking out the single turret the shuttle had; it was welded into the right side air-lock, making the door useless and it’s range of motion absolute crap. Bobby had improved it some, but it wasn’t anything fancy, or particularly useful, unless Yu wanted to go side-to-side with whatever they wanted to kill.

“Flight control this is Bandit One, good for depressurization and awaiting clearance for departure,” Yu said.

“Understood, Bandit One, hangar depressurizing,” flight control said.

Air rushed out of the hangar and the cargo hold as Bobbie equalized them.

Haas continued to watch through the doorway as Yu and Young pushed the shuttle off the deck, the sounds of the shuttle falling away as oxygen failed to transmit the sounds.

The hangars armored doors opened to the black of space dotted with stars from across the universe.

“Bandit One, you are clear for departure,” flight control said.

“See you later. Bandit One, out,” Yu said, cutting the channel and heading out of the hangar.

“Heading on your implants,” Young said. The shuttle didn’t have the interfaces that the combat shuttle had so they were down to using their implants.

They could fly without, but why work harder when you could work smarter?

“Looks like we timed it well, the flight deck is opening,” Young said, looking at her screens showing the shuttle’s sensor readings.

“Morning, troopers. Right now we’re leaving Reclaimer, they’ve reached Shipping Station and are beginning the first landings. Second Lieutenant Young will have a feed up for you if you’re interested,” Yu said.

“Thanks, boss,” Young said.

“No worries, Young,” Yu replied, sending his shuttle on its course, and using his implants to watch Reclaimer while its flight deck opened.

One side pointed towards Shipping Station, the other the black of space.

Doors finished opening and combat shuttles headed out in their lines, those that came out on the dark-side flipped and headed around.

More were shot out from the self-contained hangars on the underside and top of the carrier, they looked like blisters.

Bandit One sped away from the carrier and the combat shuttles.

The first wave would reach the station in a matter of minutes. Lines of tracers peeled out of the station, and streaks of missiles added to the fray.

The combat shuttles responded in kind, but here and there a shuttle was hit. Yet Shipping Station’s damage was minimal compared to what the combat shuttles were unleashing. Shipping Station was a big target and their missiles were smarter than probably most people. They had one job, blow up what the co-pilot designated, and they did it well.

Heavy auto-cannons sheered at the stations hull, and explosive decompression blew entire sections of the station free.

Auto-turrets’ smaller lines of tracers hit the weapon emplacements head-on.

The first combat shuttles turned, their engines at full burn as they docked to the station. The fourth and fifth waves of combat shuttles were being issued from Reclaimer and Fearless, as weapons fire streaked across the darkness of the hard vacuum.

They watched as more shuttles landed and connected to the station, and sections of the station blew out in short-fireballs.

The fight for Shipping Station looked like it was going to be a nasty one.

And there’s nothing more I’d like than being in my combat shuttle right in the middle of it. Part of it was the adrenaline rush, but the real reason was because he cared about the people flying around him and the troopers that relied on his flying to get them on target.

If he wasn’t there doing it, it felt like something would go wrong, and if it did he would only blame himself. It was irrational and idiotic.

But hell you need to be fucking insane to do this job in the first place.

They watched their brothers and sisters fight for Shipping Station, whilst Yu made slight alterations to their flight plan. He hoped everyone had had a shower before they left, it would be nearly a month before they got to Masoul Actual.

Chapter 31

Tower Twelve

Masoul Actual, Masoul System

1/3241

Everyone was alert and after a month stuck together in such close quarters everyone was on everyone else’s nerves. Showers were a thing of the past and the crapper had been blocked twice.

Fucking Tal, bastard needs less fiber, Jerome thought shaking his head.

They well and truly looked and smelled like Harmony fighters now, pissed off at everything, irate and angry.

That said, Jerome was expecting the ride to make a good story once the other troopers got to them. He also knew he could rely on every single person around him, no matter the bickering arguments and harsh words that had passed between them.

They were all big girls and boys, and ribbing was part of what kept them entertained.

“Touchdown on landing pad,” Yu said, his voice in everyone’s helmets.

The shuttle dipped a bit as the landing struts took the weight of the craft. Engines dialed back.

The shuttle didn’t look like much and it handled worse than a brick. Jerome certainly didn’t much like it

“Going down,” Yu said. The landing pad they were on dipped below the hellish landscape that was Masoul Actual.

It took a few minutes for the landing pad to stop moving.

“Opening hatches and loading ramp,” Yu said.

The doors opened and they piled out, ready to meet any threat and happy to be free of the metal coffin with wings.

No one was waiting for them, which alarmed them more than anything.

An operation actually going off without a hitch! Fucking miracles do happen! Jerome thought as a bored looking tech wandered over.

“Fuck, you guys look ripe. We’ll take the shuttle, for the sake of Harmony,” the tech said tapping his fist to his chest and holding it high and proud.

“For the sake of Harmony,” Jerome returned, feeling that the man was only making the gesture because they were enforcers.

Harmony’s rule was a way of life here; thirty years was a long time for someone who wasn’t an icicle or couldn’t pay for anti-aging drugs.

The tech started wandering around the craft.

“Duffel bags and gear, then follow me,” Haas said.  “Mark, Dooks, you’re the biggest; stand next to me.”

The group grabbed their duffels, slinging them over shoulders or carrying them one-handed.

Mark and Dooks took their positions, as the flight crew joined them and followed.

Over the past month they had gone back to their slum habits, looking without seeming to, moving with weapons under their coats. Their reactions and ability to put someone down fast was better, but now they were used to showing open hostility instead of only showing it at the last moment when you buried a blade in your target.

They were the best and worst of both worlds. They headed for the nearest lift. Haas had a more complete set of orders.

Waiting for them was a brown-haired man, who looked simultaneously bored and important. He also looked better fed than any other Harmony fighter Jerome had seen so far.

As they got close he looked irate rather than interested at their presence.

“You mine?” he asked Haas.

“Dunno, just been holed up in that shuttle hawk for twenty-three days,” Haas said.

“Shuttle hawk? I always thought they were crows,” the man said thoughtfully, holding Haas’ eyes.

With a flick of Haas’ wrist the troopers and flight crew were moving to the left behind the man.

“You’re the muscle, keep your mouths shut and scare others away, so keep doing what you’re doing,” the man said, pressing a button on the lift.

Then they were descending a number of levels.

The tower was built into the ground rather than above it. It looked like troopers had been through it already. People on the upper levels huddled around garbage cans, burning stuff in them to heat themselves up. Graffiti and litter were everywhere, people wore rags, and many looked like skeletons. Fear had been etched into their faces and mannerisms. They were a defeated people barely holding on.

The air up here was ripe and the lights flickered. As they got to lower levels people were better nourished, the air didn’t smell as bad, and the lights didn’t flicker so much.

The doors opened a few times but no one tried to get in, though all of them said, “For the sake of Harmony,” their faces white with fear or lit up with pride.

The man returned the gesture for the group.

Jerome was getting annoyed with it already.

The lift finally stopped and the man waved for them to move.

A group of Harmony fighters around the doorway saluted.

The man returned it and then looked at the group, a sneer on his face, as if he was disgusted by them all.

Jerome felt for the rifle under his duster, ready for an ambush.

“You are some of the most useless enforcers ever,” the man spat, giving them all a stink-eye and giving the Harmony fighters a display.

The fact they were backing away looking scared of the man instead of moving closer to get a better shot made Jerome’s hand drift away from his rifle’s handle.

“Check every room I go into before I do, and check everything before I get there to make sure that I will be safe. You fail again and I will see that you are educated,” the man threatened.

“Yes, sir,” Haas said through gritted teeth. A flick of his head and Bairamov and Ali were in the corridor as Obe and Iliev moved ahead of them.

The brown-haired man snorted and walked on. They moved around him as if protecting him from the outside world. With terse directions they walked through offices that had been turned into barracks, training areas, weapon and ammunition making facilities.

Walls had been knocked down to make room for the facilities.

People stopped and saluted them as they passed.

The man returned the salutes and they continued down to lower levels.

Even lower down, litter and graffiti covered the walls. People sat in groups, lounging around but watching one another with a wariness that reminded Jerome of the slums

Harmony fighters were everywhere with their patchwork one-piece utilitarian clothes and simple rifles. There were a few enforcer dusters wandering around, but not many.

There were also people wearing white clothes. They were the educators, the most fanatical and sadistic Harmony followers. They gained people’s obedience with their blood and torture.

They lived to cause people pain and to believe as they did in Harmony.

Onwards they went through the facility - what must have been the base for thousands of Harmony fighters.

The man pressed a card against a door that they’d reached, and it opened, allowing them into a room which looked the opposite of the facility outside.

It was clean, and didn’t smell like too many bodies in not enough space. It was brightly lit and looked like a CEO’s living quarters instead of the racks of beds welded to one another that they’d seen elsewhere.

The man pulled something from his pocket, pressed it, and dropped it on the table.

“Alright, check the rooms. I’ll be waiting,” the man said lounging on the couch.

Duffels were dropped as Haas tossed glances and gestures at them. Jerome checked a bedroom, and with no one there he headed back to the main room.

Everyone else came back; the apartment was clear.

“Good, now down to business.” The man leaned forward, his eyes boring into Haas’.

“I’ve been here since the beginning, so if your being here fucks up my operation in any way, I’m dropping you as fast as a live grenade. Got it?” the man asked.

“Understood,” Haas said.

“Good. No hard feelings, but I didn’t want to have you here, but at this stage it makes sense. As my personal enforcers you’ll be allowed to go anywhere except for the education facilities and the command complex unless I’m with you. If you’re in the education facilities, well… we’ll all probably be meeting you there. Take my advice and shoot yourself before they take you down there.” The man looked to all of them, completely serious.

They nodded. They’d all read the brief; nothing good happened in those places.

“The name is Dan Moretti. I am the right or left-hand of Harper, the mastermind of Harmony in Masoul,” he said with a flourish, sitting back in his seat.

“Those three rooms are yours, that one’s mine. I expect two of you to be with me at all times, and at some functions I might request more.” He pulled out a piece of paper and gave it to Haas.

“Smoke if you want,” he said, imitating a lighter and pointing it at the paper. The man was paranoid as all hell. Not trusting enough to put anything into words.

Jerome couldn’t blame him. If he was found out then the educators would take an extra long time on him.

Moretti continued to outline their duties to him as his enforcers, as Haas passed the paper around; on it were names and locations.

Jerome took a picture with his implants and handed it off.

Mark got it last and pulled out a cigar and lighter, he lit the paper and used it to light his cigar. He put the paper in an ashtray as he puffed on his cigar, and all around him cigarettes, chew, and dip all appeared. They hadn’t been able to smoke on the airless shuttle.

Mark and Jerome made eye contact.

“Ain’t no quitters ‘round here,” Jerome said, getting a huff from Mark as he pulled out a packet of chew and started working on it.

“I have a meeting in a few hours. You, and you, should come with me,” Moretti said, pointing to Mark and Haas. “Look mean and pissed off until we get to the control room. Then try to appear amazed by it all. I will be meeting with Harper, the leader of Harmony there. Show deference, most people that meet him act like they’re going to piss themselves in joy, they would do anything for him. So whatever he tells you, do it immediately. Also, I want ‘For the sake of Harmony’ all over the place,” Moretti looked to Mark and Haas.

“Got it,” Mark said, exhaling.

“Simple,” Haas reassured Moretti.

“Those Cohelans?” Moretti asked, gesturing to the cigar in Mark’s mouth.

“Yeah,” he said around it.

Jerome didn’t miss the light in Moretti’s eyes.

“I think we’re going to be good friends...” Moretti trailed off, asking Mark for his name.

“Mark,” Mark replied, pulling out a cigar and handing it to the man, who ran it under his nose, sitting back on his couch with a smile.

“Fuck! Haven’t had one of these for, hell, years,” Moretti said, taking another good sniff.

“Alright, the rest of you do as you want. I would suggest that you start looking over the various towers, there is more than one way to get between them. Might be useful for the upcoming battle,” Moretti said, standing and putting the cigar into his own duster, and heading for the kitchen.

“Alright. Get a fucking shower,” Zukic said, looking at them all with a mildly disgusted face.

“I’m going to check the connection to the net,” Tyler said, his eyes blanking as he looked to connect to the communications satellite they’d tied into the planet’s communications systems. It allowed them to connect to Reclaimer where the higher-ups would be looking over their reports.

People hustled into the shower, and clothes were tossed in the cleaner.

Jerome looked around the place, claiming a room and dropping his duffel in it.

He pulled out magazines and weapons, laying them around the place and dragging out clothes due for a washing.

Moretti was munching on a food replacement bar when Jerome came out, looked over the food cabinets, grabbed a food bar, and got stuck in.

Jerome saw that Moretti was staring into the rooms, and watching the girls going into the shower.

“See something you like?” Jerome asked.

“Haven’t seen women that I’m attracted to in a very long time. The video versions can only sustain a man for so long,” Moretti said, glancing to Jerome.

He’d been in the middle of the shit for too long to care what others thought. Jerome could appreciate that and it wasn’t like he was guardian for any of the girls. What they did was up to them, if they beat the hell out of Moretti for unwanted advances, then he’d get involved.

Mark hadn’t had time to get a shower. Instead he’d stripped down, thrown some water on himself, towelled off and thrown on a shirt that didn’t smell terrible.

He walked ahead of Moretti and Haas as people cleared out of the way, Moretti returning salutes as they went.

They reached barricades that had been built into the floor and walls of the corridor, and weaved their way through, passing other enforcers. Mark nodded to a few here and there, and got to the main door where two large enforcers stood, both bigger than Mark in terms of mass and height, but not muscle.

Upon seeing Moretti, they opened the doors for them and saluted.

Moretti returned the gesture as they walked into the command center.

To the right there were screens of all kinds and a holographic representation of Shipping Station. To the left were conference tables with surfaces and projectors. People’s faces were illuminated by the lights of their consoles as people brought them food and water, or they whispered in short terse words.

Even with so much action going on the place was quiet, as if no one wanted to raise their voice.

Servers and computers hummed with fans and coolant.

At the rear of the room, chairs sat in front of an array of screens, with banks of computers in rows, and a command chair behind them.

An unassuming man stepped up from the chair, and Moretti moved past Mark to greet the man.

The man wore simple janitor’s coveralls and projected an air of confidence around him. If he hadn’t been in the command seat with Moretti walking towards him Mark wouldn’t have thought him important.

Moretti stopped and saluted the other man, who returned it, smiling at Moretti like a proud father.

“Come, Moretti, let us talk somewhere else so we don’t bother these hard working people,” the man said, his voice raised so that the others in the large room could hear him.

Mark saw smiles appear and backs straightened as they worked harder.

Between the tiered area and the part with the hologram to the right there was a corridor guarded by enforcers.

“Wait here, you two,” Moretti said to Mark and Haas as he walked past the other enforcers, the man who could only be Harper leading the way.

“For Harmony’s sake,” Haas said, both of them saluting Harmony-style.

Mark’s implants had been recording the entire time, and as he walked back into the room looking around at the computers, Haas joined him.

“Didn’t think I’d be doing this when I joined up,” Mark said.

“Makes two of us. This place is well organized,” Haas said, both of them careful not to talk about the EMF or trooper lifestyle.

“You see those newer rifles?” Haas asked.

“Look more like proper heavy machine guns to me,” Mark said.

“Yeah,” Haas said, his voice tight. Mark had only seen one or two on their walk down, but they could possibly breach a trooper’s armor if troopers charged them.

“That’s not the only trick Harper has for those trooper fucks,” an enforcer that had overheard them speaking said, interjecting himself into the conversation.

“Really? Those things look impressive as hell,” Haas said.

Mark stopped himself from twitching his triceps.,Killing the guy here would only complicate things.

“Yeah, but look.” The man pulled up his long-sleeved shirt showing a heavy plate of armor underneath.

“Damn, where the hell did you get that from?” Haas said, tapping the plate. It sounded heavy and the straps holding it to the man weren’t light duty.

“Special order, you can probably get them too being Mr. Moretti’s enforcers,” the man said proudly, pulling his shirt down.

“Have to look into that,” Haas said, looking at Mark.

“Yeah, would be pretty sweet to have armor, though how do you know those EMF guns won’t cut through them?” Mark asked.

“We’ve been shooting these things for years. Just took time to mass produce. Guess you don’t get much central talk from where you are?” the guy said.

“Nah, Tower Eights’ boring as fuck man - thing’s practically deserted after it got converted into a factory,” Mark shrugged, he’d made sure to memorize Tower Eight. If anyone had any interest in his background he had it covered.

“Yeah, I hear that, got a cousin that moved out, he’s an educator,” the man said, actually looking proud of the fact.

“Damn, he must know how to cut up a meat ration,” Mark said, with a forced grin.

“You would not believe it,” the man laughed.

Haas and Mark joined in.

The man leaned in, looking around to make sure no one was watching or listening.

“I heard that they’re building powered armor,” he said.

“Powered armor, how’s that possible?” Haas said, looking around as well.

“Harmony connects us all, we are but one small part of Harmony. Here we might learn the lessons to grow Harmony stronger,” the man said.

“For the sake of Harmony,” Haas said, nodding, Mark couldn’t bring himself to say those words.

If these mother fuckers have powered armor, then this is a whole new ball game, Mark thought.

Powered armor had only been used on Earth in the unification wars back when nations could actually get weapons smuggled in.

It carried more armor, weapons, and ammunition than any normal soldier could. They were hellish weapons that could turn anyone into a destructive force.

Since Earth had been unified, power armor was seen as a luxury, its expense outweighing its use in peaceful times. With the settling of the colonies, the companies did not want weapons in the hands of colonists, so when colonists rebelled they had to make their own. It was rare for them to get past making rifles and some meager kind of armor.

The EMF was trained to take down a rabble with pop guns and no armor.

Already the man had showed that they were past crappy rifles and insubstantial armor. That was going to make things difficult. If what the man said was true, then this battle was going from difficult to terrible.

“Sign me up, if there’s ever trials. I’d love to get my hands on a real set of powered armor,” Mark said.

“Sure thing, man,” the big guy said, nodding to him.

“Never got your name?” he said, holding his hand out.

“Mark,” Mark said, taking the offered hand.

“Jonas,” Haas said, using his first name, and shaking the man’s hand.

“I’m Tony, happy to meet you two. If any openings come round I’ll let you know,” Tony said.

“What do you do around Central for fun?” Mark asked.

“Not much to do, other than train, enforce, drink, and pick up girls, the Chosen love enforcers. Just walk through the barracks and you’ll have your pick,” Tony grinned.

Mark and Haas grinned too.

“Heard there were some gangs around,” Haas asked.

“Yeah,” Tony said, his grin souring. “People that never went through selection or don’t agree with Harmony. Fucking dissenters all over the place. Our job is to sniff them out. Most have tunnels that I don’t even know about. Smuggle goods all over the place, have a black-market of stuff; best to take a cut and let that slide. People don’t like it when they don’t have some options for food. Though some in that market are dissenters mark my words,” Tony said, not sounding like he knew what dissenters meant, but he’d heard it enough times to use it.

“We’ll keep an eye out,” Haas said, looking at Mark who gave him a dark look and a scowl, mimicking Tony’s anger.

Mark saw Moretti and Harper making their way back down the hallway.

“Catch you around sometime,” Tony said.

“Have to grab a beer man, I wanna hear more about that powered armor. Sounds fucking awesome,” Mark said slapping the man on the back.

“I’ll take you up on that, Mark,” Tony grinned, slapping Mark on the back in a show of budding bromance.

“Sometimes it’s hard to get good help,” Mark heard Moretti mutter to Harper.

“These boys have shown their worth or else they wouldn’t be wearing those dusters,” Harper said, his voice not reproving but more like a father stating facts.

Moretti made a noise that bordered on disagreement.

“Always a pessimist, Moretti, though it is fortunately a useful trait that makes you of great use to me. If these were not times of war, then I would do all in my power to get you out of that slump. Now, I just hope that your pessimistic outlook aids our Chosen,” Harper said, tapping Moretti’s shoulder.

“I hope that my service, however pessimistic is useful,” Moretti said, bowing.

Harper laughed, it was a rich noise for one that had sent seventy-thousand to their deaths already. Mark had no idea how many had died on Shipping Station, or would die on it and Masoul.

“You have, however, become much more exuberant in your displays,” Harper said, tapping Moretti’s back.

“For the sake of Harmony,” Moretti said, saluting.

Harper returned it, watching him leave, with Mark and Haas moving around Moretti as they made their exit.

Mark caught Tony’s eye, and gave him a nod.

If they do have powered armor, this just got way more complicated.

Chapter 32

Landing City

Masoul Actual, Masoul System

5/3241

Shipping Station was still being fought over, and it was a bad fight Moretti told them. The news outlets were pro-Harmony so they were only telling of great victories and mounting EMF casualties.

If they were to be believed, then the carriers held millions rather than just over a hundred thousand.

Mark let his arms fall closer to his body, feeling the blades under his arms. Weapons were a comforting touch to him.

There was no contact outside of Masoul so Mark and the rest of the platoon worked their asses off to gather as much information as possible. He’d finally got a lead from the black market on some tunnels that weren’t on any official records.

He’d befriended a gang of kids and teenagers, who didn’t want to be part of Harmony, but they knew something about fighting and could move goods around with ease. There were plenty of kids wandering around the tunnels, most of them were in classes that taught them the best way to kill a trooper in armor with everything from their hands and blades to assault rifles and the heavy machine guns that Mark and Haas had seen on their first day walking to the command center.

For five meal bars they’d updated his map. He’d also got their ears listening out for new machine gun placements on the surface and rumors about armor.

They were making their pay and then some.

Though he wasn’t about to let on that he had an almost inexhaustible supply of food and that he would gladly pay three times as much for the information they gave him. That kind of act would make them suspicious and more eager to tell others about the awesome deal they’d made.

Better to low-ball and keep them thinking he was just an enforcer trying to make his way up in the world.

Thankfully, since he’d been buying food and other goods from the black market, as well as taking his cut, he was seen as trustworthy. No one was going to rat on the thing that would also send them to the educators.

“Hey Lou,” Mark said, walking into the gang’s hideout. It was in a water recycling duct; they’d opened a panel and cut through the rock, making their own living area. It was the one place they hadn’t put any information on. From the way it looked there were a fair number of ways to enter the area and more than a few ways to escape.

“Mark,” Lou said, nodding to him and moving from behind the panel as it slid out of the way. Mark walked in, the panel closing behind him.

The tunnels and living area were rough with shoddy reinforcing posts and crossbeams, but it worked.

As Mark wandered through, people moved away, hiding their faces in the path of his black duster.

It didn’t take him long to reach Jolie, who was sitting in a large cavern. Tents and other hastily made structures made people’s sleeping quarters and homes.

“Hey Mark,” Jolie said, lighting up as he got closer.

She was about fifteen, perky, and had a crush on Mark like something else.

“Hey Jolie,” Mark said, sitting opposite her.

“Got these new pants down at market today, what do you think?” She said, turning and showing them off.

“They’re nice,” he smiled, knowing the action was anything but innocent.

Jolie pouted slightly before grabbing a data unit.

“Here’s the basic guide to the towers, including the normal towers. You got the food?” she asked.

“Yeah,” Mark said, pulling a pack out of his duster.

“You guys hide a lot of things in those dusters,” she said, taking her time to look him over and then glanced up to his eyes.

Mark shook the pack to move her eyes away from him.

She was a pretty girl, but he wasn’t going to hit below eighteen. He tossed her a pack, and she caught it. Ignoring her looks, he tossed her three more.

She threw him the data cube in return.

Jolie snapped her fingers and Daz appeared, grabbing the bars and taking them away, probably to Jolie’s stash.

“I’ve got more if you’ve heard anything about the armor and weapons,” Mark said.

“Well, I might have something on the anti-Harmony groups,” Jolie said, her face becoming serious as she tested the waters.

“Yeah?” Mark said, Jolie getting all of his attention as he wirelessly connected to the data cube, uploading it to his internal memory and sending it to the rest of the platoon.

She looked like she was deciding something as she sized him up.

“Thing is you’d have to leave your guns here and agree to be tied up,” she said.

Mark sighed, rubbing the beard that had grown since he’d stepped on the shuttle four months ago.

It was his first beard. He’d shaved when on Earth and the EMF had reinforced that practice, it was damn uncomfortable having stubble rub on the cheek pads, or get pulled out if you didn’t get it all in.

“Alright, I’ll do it, but no funny business,” Mark said.

“Fine, take all your weapons off and that duster,” Jolie snapped her fingers twice, and four people came out from tents, their faces covered, restraints in one person’s hands a blindfold in another’s.

“Don’t trust me to come peacefully?” Mark said with his deep voice and a grin.

“You’re the size of a small car and you have enough scars visible on just your neck and hands to say you’ve survived some shit. What would you do if you were me?” Jolie asked.

Mark laughed and pulled off the duster, blades, and weapons that were sown into the coat.

He put it down; a rifle and shotgun hung from him on slings.

The twin pistol belts joined the guns and duster.

Then there were blades in the small of his back and his boots. There was a small pile of weapons to his side, and wide eyes looking between him and the pile.

“I know every single weapon. One of them goes missing and I’ll hold you responsible Jolie,” Mark said, looking into her eyes.

“Daz! Get out here and put this in my vault,” she said. Daz was there in a few moments, gathering the weapons up in the duster and hurrying off.

The restraints went on as Jolie stood, and she ran her hands over him, checking for weapons. Mark didn’t miss her smile as she got close to some sensitive areas.

“At least buy me dinner first,” he growled, getting a few laughs from the foursome.

Jolie smiled and stopped her searching.

“Blindfold him and let’s get this show on the road,” she said.

“Fucking tall bastard,” someone muttered behind him. He bent a knee to make it easier for them. The colonists didn’t get much in the way of good food and with lower gravity the CEO’s and Harmony decided they needed less food, leading to them being short and wiry.

Mark was pushed and prodded, as they blinded and bound him.

Mark sent a message to Tyler, Jerome and Haas, with a recording of the situation, except for putting down his weapons. Haas would blow a gasket if he saw that.

They passed lots of people and travelled in so many odd directions that Mark knew it was being done to throw off his sense of direction.

He was stopped and something waved over his body. His implants read faults and he shut them down.

It seemed he’d passed as he moved on.

Finally, he was stopped and his blindfold removed. In front of him sitting at a simple table were three women and two men, all of whom wore items to obscure who they were, leaving only their eyes visible.

Jolie and the rest of the gang left, and a door closed behind Mark.

There were three guards toting weaponry, ready and waiting to put Mark down if he did anything.

“Fucking talkative lot aren’t you?” Mark said, looking at them all after a few quiet minutes.

“Why don’t we just torture him like they torture ours with their educators? Should get at the information,” one of the men at the table said.

The woman at the center rose, a hand silencing him.

“We are not Harmony, we are better than them and we will act accordingly,” she said.

“Can we get past the threats? Yes, you could shoot me, or kill me in some manner and make it look like a mistake. You want information and I want some cooperation,” Mark said.

“Fucking enforcers,” one of the guards spat.

“Real smart, spitting inside a mask, bet that feels awesome,” Mark said shaking his head.

The guard didn’t say anything, but the others moved awkwardly.

“You Madam Song?” Mark asked gesturing to the head-woman. The table moved in shock and the guard’s guns rose a few inches.

“Ahhh, good. That agent’s damn fucking good.” Mark admitted, he’d owe Moretti a few cigars if this worked. “The hand, says hello,” Mark said tilting his head.

There was a hiss of breath being released.

“How do you know the hand?” Song asked, still masked.

“We’re working together,” Mark shrugged. Though you wouldn’t believe who he is even if I told you, Mark thought. Moretti might be a spy, but he was good at his work.

“How can you, an enforcer, be working with the hand? He has guided us since the beginning, working to use us to fight Harmony, supplied us with the means to be prepared for the eventual trooper arrival,” she said.

Mark grabbed at his shirt, as the weapons in front of him started rising.

He ripped the shirt, showing his bare shoulder. Puckered scars couldn’t hide the tattoo he’d received from basic and the M&T over V tattoo that had been redone to have M, J, T&A over V.

The guns wavered as the five people started muttering.

“I think it’s about time we got the resistance organized. It won’t be long before my fellow troopers are here,” Mark fired up his implants and applied a cracker to the restraints. He tossed the restraints to the bodyguard who’d spat in his own mask and turned to face them.

“I’m an enforcer, just of a different type,” he smiled as saucer-sized eyes looked up at him in shock.

Chapter 33

Shipping Station

Shipping Station, Masoul System

5/3241

Nerva looked over the latest download from the communications satellite. The platoon had made contact with the underground and were trying to get as much training into them as possible. Harmony had armor plates on an industrial scale. They might not get all four million wearing the plates, but they’d get their enforcers and core Chosen, to wear them.

Chosen. Why is it that religious fighters always have some connotation that they are the select few able to do what they were told to do? He sighed as Captain Harold’s replacement, Captain Sholtz, informed him that their enemy was pushing through the refined metals storage area.

Sholtz had the situation under control so Nerva left him to it, turning to the last report he’d held, a reading from Masoul Actual.

It had been written up by Mark, and it seemed that he, Dashtund, Dominguez, and Ali might get an opportunity to see if the powered armor was a reality and if it was, then they might be able to pilot it and find out where the other sets were being held.

Haas and the flight team had wandered around checking out the various landing pads and terrain the troopers would have to cover to get into the towers.

Jerome was borrowing the shuttle crew and Iliev to go down to the various water reclamation, heat exchange, and atmospheric controls. They probably knew them better than the people that kept them running.

Zukic and the rest were out creating maps of the towers. They mapped the tunnels that connected them, the defenses across the inside of the towers, and those on the surface.

Nerva checked the message he’d been given from Colonel Sangh.

In five months they would start pushing up operations on Shipping Station once again. After that the team on the ground only had as long as it took to get back on the carriers and get to Masoul Actual.

“So, who is pulling their strings?” Nerva asked NIDenise, knowing full well that General Wai would have used this to push the troopers hard through Shipping Station just to hit Masoul Actual before they got any good intel from the platoon on the ground… just because they were Nerva’s people and she could blame it on him.

“Selvra,” NIDenise said.

That made Nerva tap the floor next to him in thought.

“Why?” Nerva asked.

“He needs us to show a definitive victory, he also thinks that this isn’t the end of Harmony. Harper seems to have come from Osdal,” NIDenise said anticipating his first question.

“But...,” he started.

“He’s willing to waste the resources because he wants more information. With the powered armor rumors he’s focused himself on this and this alone. If Haas and his platoon confirm that there’s powered armor on Masoul Actual, then in his mind it’s just a testing bed for what Osdal might have. He’s drafted up orders to have powered armor made up if it is the case,” she said.

“Is it?” Nerva asked. He knew that while on operation within the EMF he had to limit the amount of information that he couldn’t easily explain. This definitely fell in this category and NIDenise was waging an internal battle to protect her user and also uphold those mandates.

“You will find out soon enough,” NIDenise said, going with a neutral answer.

“Is this only linked to Osdal?” Nerva asked.

“Nivad believes so,” NIDenise answered.

“What does the legion know?” Nerva asked knowing that Earth and her colonies’ tech was several generations behind legion tech at the best. At the worst it wasn’t even in the same league.

“I cannot confirm or deny anything unless you choose to return to the legion,” NIDenise said, clearly not liking the answer she could not give.

Nerva tapped his fist on the floor a few times.

“Shit,” he said, reading between the lines. He knew that NIDenise could read his thoughts but she made no comment on them.

As NIDenise had evolved as all NIAI’s do, she had gained the ability to inflect emotions in her tone, Nerva had his answer whether she wanted to give it to him or not.

He glanced around at the troopers cleaning their guns, talking and eating, waiting to be pushed up to attack the Chosen. Killing time and taking their minds off of their task with idle chatter.

He had seen soldiers like them the universe over, he knew war better than he knew women. And felt that this one was only just beginning.

Chapter 34

Landing City

Masoul Actual, Masoul System

7/3241

Tony and Mark had hung out for the last six months, going from friendly enforcers to full on bromance.

Tony was an okay dude, well he would be if he wasn’t so wrapped up in Harmony talk, hated troopers for no reason other than being told to, and had a mean streak where women were concerned.

Mark swallowed his bile and repressed his usual somatic response, thankfully it looked to have paid off as Tony led him through checkpoint after checkpoint.

“Weapons,” an enforcer said, looking at Mark blankly.

“Sorry dude, them’s the rules,” Tony said, pulling out his own weapons. “It’s worth it though,” he said, laying his duster on his gear.

Mark shrugged and dropped all of his weapons except the two blades under his arms.

“Better be right,” Mark said, as the enforcer stepped forward and patted him down. “Watch it, pervert,” Mark said. Tony laughed, as the enforcer sighed, obviously he’d heard the line a few too many times for it to be interesting anymore.

“Good,” the enforcer said, letting Mark past, and the other enforcer let Tony go a few seconds later.

Mark was recording everything but not transmitting a thing, he didn’t want anyone catching onto the signal. It was a small chance but he wasn’t going to risk it with the possible importance of this mission.

Tony slapped him on the back as they entered armored doors that had been added to the tower. This whole facility looked like it had been cut out of the rock after Harmony had become a thing.

“Welcome to Research and Development,” Tony said, as they walked out into what looked like the maintenance facilities on Gas Planet’s extractors. Catwalks ringed three walls, above him, in front of him, and to his left.

While the catwalks in front and above ringed a large open area, the catwalks to his left extended backwards showing machinery similar to the extractors, but less cylindrical for gases, with more hard lines and corners.

Mark didn’t even try to figure out what it all meant as his eyes fell on the fifty or so objects that stood in the open area in front of those catwalks.

“Holy shit, you weren’t kidding,” Mark said, looking at the fifty suits of powered armor. They looked like human shells, cracked open to reveal padding and sensors below. Cords ran from them to various consoles and into different ports.

Techs moved over the suits, putting the final touches to them.

Guns were pointed at Mark. He looked behind - the wall without catwalks was a range.

“Course I wasn’t; think I’d lie to you buddy?” Tony grinned slapping him on the back.

Probably not, but I’d sure as hell lie to you, Mark thought, grinning at the other man who grinned back.

“Come on, they still need applicants to try out these things. I know you and the rest of Mr. Moretti’s enforcers are biting at the bit to try these things out, but we’ve got to talk to Stan the Man and then hopefully Mr. Moretti will let us test you guys. If you pass, we’ll be putting a whole lot of pain into the troopers,” Tony assured Mark. He was walking ahead so he missed Mark’s thoughtful look as, not for the first time, he considered putting a blade into the man’s neck.

Stan was a fat man behind a console.

Mark was actually surprised, but it seemed that from him stemmed the technical ability to get these projects from blueprints to reality. So Harmony kept him well fed, looked after all of his needs, and he built them toys to kill with.

Mark crossed his arms and leaned against the doorframe, touching the blades under his arms, as Tony talked to Stan.

It would be so easy to take out one of Harper's closest guards and his techie. Again Mark had to push down the murderous thoughts.

Stan sighed and turned, looking over at Mark. His eyes widened and he nodded in appreciation.

“Alright, Mark you’ll get your shot. I don’t usually give most wannabes a chance at my babies but Tony’s twisted my arm. If you can use a suit of powered armor and run a test my people will set out, then I’ll think about letting your group try out,” Stan said, his bored tone making it clear he didn’t think Mark had it in him.

“Thank you, for Harmony’s sake,” Mark said, saluting, the motion automatic and disgusting to Mark.

Stan tossed a salute back, he didn’t seem to care about decorum as he went back to his computer.

“Come on, Mark, let’s get you set up,” Tony said, heading for the door. “Thanks, Stan!”

“Don’t break my fucking suit, Tony!” Stan yelled, not turning from his computer.

They walked back down catwalks, getting out of the tech’s ways; enforcers didn’t faze them in here.

“You better damned well make Stan eat his boots in excitement. I just had to call in all my favors with him to let you try one of these beauties out,” Tony said, giving Mark a look.

“Thanks, Tony, I owe you man,” Mark said, meaning it, as he pictured putting a blade through his neck in his mind’s eye.

“Just don’t fuck up too horribly,” Tony said.

They reached the powered armor and a red-haired tech moved forward, she looked Mark over with disdain; bugs might have gotten more interest from her.

“Come on, we don’t have all day and my people are going to need extra time to buff out your fuck-ups. Get in,” she said, working on her surface and gesturing to a suit with her head.

Mark moved to it, walking around it.

It was new but crude. The armor panels seemed to have been hammered, welded, and ground into position. The matte black paint had scratches showing the grey armor underneath.

He could see the joints and servo motors, where armor had been left off in several places, and he eyed them up for his implant’s recording.

He turned around and stepped backwards into the armor, and under armor and sensor pads clamped down around him and his limbs.

It held him down firmly as the front of the armor sealed around his torso, bolts locking into position, and screws tightening.

The helmet came down locking over his face, there was a moment of panic as everything was dark. Then the helmet came to life, showing the room around him.

“Can I run a diagnostic?” Mark asked, reverting to his training of checking his gear.

“Yes, go into the menu and select run checks,” the red-haired tech looked up from her surface for the first time, quickly going back to it.

Mark ran the diagnostic in the background and ran through the suit’s information. He didn’t care to read it all, but recorded it for someone to play back later at a slower speed.

The suit showed all green lights.

Mark disengaged power and locking units from the armor, turning on the internal batteries.

They were rated to last eight hours unless changed out or recharged.

In combat they were rated for two hours. Both useful pieces of information.

Mark stepped forward tentatively, he’d dialed down the power amplification to just level one.

There was a little bounce to his step, but he adjusted for it.

“Okay, run along the proscribed route,” the tech said, sounding interested? Mark didn’t pay attention as a route, a series of wire boxes filled with semi-transparent screens, made his circuit around the open area. He moved, adjusting to the new bouncing steps, it wasn’t that hard to accommodate for. His body was acclimatized to nearly two gravities, and adjusting to using less of his power was a trick all troopers used.

He looked at his hand it was actually inside his forearm with a glove over it, but as he touched his fingers together, the hand responded.

“I’m upping the power on the suit,” Mark said, putting more into the legs, trying to get the balance between moving forward and keeping his height down so he didn’t go into the ceiling.

The route changed, weaving through the targets, and Mark used a wall to turn and headed through. The path turned towards the catwalks; he had to jump on a wall to get onto the catwalk, and people yelled and moved out of his way as he hit goal after goal. He was on the catwalk above the entrance, near the start of the catwalks to the left when his next goal appeared a level up on the wall opposite the entrance.

He jumped off the second-floor catwalk, using the railings to slow himself. He threw himself sideways, underestimating the powered armor as he went through the target and into the wall. The course evaporated, and as Mark looked back, the catwalk looked like it might need repairing.

He’d also gone into the wall, a human-sized impression crumbled around him as he extracted himself.

The red-haired tech was staring at him; hell everyone was staring at him.

“Could you come down here, please?” The red-haired one said.

Mark shrugged, finding he wasn’t able to in the suit. He dialed down the power again and stepped off of the third-floor catwalk. He crouched, the legs absorbing his impact. It seemed to him like there was an automated landing system, and he made note of it, trying to milk as much information from the suit as possible. He tried different view types, seeing in a greenish night vision - it was terrible and without depth, but functional.

He opened the helmet, looking to the tech and Tony.

“I’ll help out with fixing up the decking if you need it,” Mark said, seeing that he’d also winged the catwalk where he’d jumped to the second floor.

The railing was bent in; he’d hardly felt it.

“Fuck the catwalk, that’s the best we’ve seen yet, most people get cocky as hell and jump into the ceiling. I haven’t seen anyone run a diagnostic yet. Your ability to not only start off small, but know when to up the power output, that’s impressive. No one’s had the coordination to go through those targets, let alone those acrobatics over the catwalks.” She shook her head, and Tony who was standing behind her grinned at Mark.

“Tony, you said there were others like Mark interested in the powered armor?” she said looking to Mark and Tony.

“Yeah Mr. Moretti’s enforcers, just like Mark, all of them are interested in checking out the ‘bots,” Tony said.

The tech winced, rubbing her temples.

“Powered armor Tony, not robots, they’ve got real people in them, not some remote controller kilometers away,” she sighed, looking at Mark.

“Bring them down here when you can. If they can do anything remotely like that,” she gestured to the catwalks and Mark in one go, “then they’ve got a spot in the program. Sooner the better,” she said, her eyes boring into Mark. It was the only reference Mark had heard from someone in Harmony that the conflict at Shipping Station wasn’t going as well as the news outlets said.

“Yes, ma’am,” Mark replied, smiling.

Fancy new set of powered armor, information for the major, and if everything goes to plan, we’ll be in these beasties instead of Harper’s goons. Mark was feeling okay about not killing Tony and Stan now. The day was still young though.

“Now, how do I get out of this thing?” Mark asked.

“That can only happen with a harness or a cutting torch. If you can’t get out, then the troopers can’t get in, just step back in the harness and it’ll pull the armor off you,” she said.

“Gotcha,” said Mark, still getting used to his new walk. He didn’t want to crush a gear or go flying off.

He settled into the harness, locking pins holding him in position, and leaving him unable to move. Bolts unlocked and screws loosened, panels opened and tubes connected to hidden ports.

Mark stepped out looking at the inviting open shell.

***

“Well that certainly changes things,” Haas sighed. They were in the tunnels used by the resistance.

Sasaki and Ali were escorting Moretti around, leaving the rest of them off duty.

They’d gone separate ways, only to link up in an abandoned cave. Jerome had found it a few weeks ago and this was the first time using it.

Dooks and Tal were lookouts, making sure no one interrupted.

The information was sensitive and explosive. Harmony had at least fifty sets of powered armor. Mark had an in for them all, and with his tutoring Jerome felt they had a good chance to try out as powered armor users.

The problem was them having the powered armor in the first place. They needed to find out if there was anymore and get rid of it as soon as possible.

The plan was coming along nicely, everyone was working on their own section, and no one talked to anyone about it. That way unless they were all captured then the enemy wouldn’t know the full story.

“Yes and no,” Tyler said. “Yes, we need to take down more people and items. No, because it means that hopefully we’ll be in the heart of their secret. We’ll be able to gather more information there and maybe find out where Harper comes from so the higher-ups can go mess up the CEO playing this game.”

Moretti had impressed into them that this wasn’t the first time a system’s rebellion had been started by an outside player. Ten times out of ten it was some CEO that wanted to get an edge over the competition.

Since Nivad Selvra had come into power, it had happened twice. The two former CEOs were working the harshest mines in Mintran for all of their extended lives. Nivad had paid for them to be transported there and a hundred years of anti-aging therapies.

Moretti assured them that whoever had come up with this latest plan would not enjoy it when Nivad got to them.

Moretti had looked pretty pleased with himself when he’d let that little tidbit drop as Jerome and Haas had been walking through a warehousing district.

Moretti never talked about being Nivad’s agent or the fact they were troopers in his own home.

The man was paranoid as all hell, something that the rest had come to emulate. If he thought that the home was bugged, then it didn’t hurt to follow suit.

Which made these meet-ups and walking around with Moretti worth all the more.

“If we can get the rest of our plans in place, then having the powered armor or not they’re screwed. With it, it just means that we’ll have some more destructive power in our hands, instead of theirs and maybe we can use that to really mess with their plans as our people start raining down,” Zukic said.

“Nerva puts the timeline at five months. They’re pushing back the Harmony forces, letting them throw themselves at their positions, grinding them down. Harper has given his blessing for certain freighters of Chosen to make the trip. It takes a week and a bit to get to Shipping Station and the same back, so the whole evolution takes about three weeks,” Haas said.

“So they’ll get nearly seven rides up there,” Holm said throwing a rock against another wall.

“When do we start putting the plans into motion?” Mark asked, looking to Haas and Zukic.

“Four months’ time we start pushing the resistance to take on a role. A week before everything goes down we hit their machinery, raid their armor and weapons, and get the resistance ready to make a difference. I know the training is hard and annoying without the right gear but at least they’re motivated,” Haas answered.

“Carry out the plans in your sub-groups when you deem it right. We don’t need to share unless you think it might affect another person’s part of the problem. Anything else?” Zukic looked around.

“Have we got any word from higher, on whether they are going to follow our recommendations?” Yu asked.

“We haven’t got any indication. I hope they do, but it’s the EMF,” Haas said, shrugging.

Everyone had assumed that, but if they didn’t follow any of the recommendations then it was the troopers and combat shuttle crews that would pay for their ignorance.

Jerome didn’t need to look around at the anger simmering beneath their professional veneers. It was only out of respect to Haas and Zukic that no one started bad mouthing higher-ups.

Chapter 35

Tower

Earth, Sol System

7/3241

Nivad looked at the three orders before him.

One would put trillions of credits from the government coffers into the EMF for the purpose of running out ammunition capable of piercing the armor the Chosen were being issued and making vibra-blades available to every trooper.

The second gave incentives to companies to build Earth Military Carriers. He’d had recruitment ramp up and there were contracts available to whoever was able to provide EMFC’s. It would start the biggest ramp up in the EMF in centuries.

He signed and submitted them both.

He looked at the third order, which laid out a plan to provide the EMF with powered armor.

He wouldn’t be able to get it to Osdal in time. Masoul’s war wouldn’t drag on that long and the fleet would be ready twenty-four years after Masoul’s combat was wrapped up.

Shipping from Earth to Osdal would take forty-one and a half years. Too late to be useful.

It would take him a year to convert what he needed. It would take another five to start making carrier loads of it.

He wasn’t going to have the armor built anywhere else but under his direct control.

He didn’t think that Osdal was the end of Harmony, he felt another player was in the game, so he filed the order away, a provision for the future.

If the enemy did indeed prove to be in other systems, then Nivad knew he would need to get powered armor to the troopers that would fight them.

Which brought about another problem. The troopers, the most dysfunctional group of the EMF would be given weapons that could make them a true threat. He would work safeguards into the system but there was always a way around them.

His other option was to give a select group of troopers the powered armor and use them as a strike force.

He looked at other reports that seven carriers were moving to Osdal, and forty-five were moving into the sphere, ready to be deployed to any system.

The reports hadn’t changed in months. He stood and wandered over to his liquor cabinet.

He poured himself a double bourbon, ice clinking in the cup as he carried it back to the desk, pulled a cigarette out and lit it.

Relaxing agents stifled his nerves, but he rarely used this type of cigarette, preferring the stim-infused blend that kept him alert and active.

He smoked and sipped on the priceless bourbon, waiting on a message coming from nearly thirteen light years away.

How did they get powered armor? That question would hopefully be solved soon. Nivad drank and smoked, his eyes moving over the updating reports and graphs that covered the side of his office, the heartbeat of Earth and her colonies.

A reminder on his implants alerted him to his weekly meeting, so he tossed the rest of the drink back, took a drag of his cigarette, and threw the butt in the trash chute.

He stood and did up his jacket, running his hands over the fine material and flicking off some cigarette dust on the lapel.

He checked a mirror, making sure he was presentable. With medical treatments he looked like he was just middling twenties. The treatments cost as much as a freighter, but Nivad was happy to pay for the additional lifetimes he had earned.

With a snap of his fingers the screens changed to a view of Mega City as he strode through his office doors, his security detail ready and waiting for him.

***

Nivad looked around the conference table, his eyes resting on the head of Osdal’s operations.

They had had a private chat a few days ago and the woman looked like she hadn’t slept since. Nivad approved; there were things coming from Osdal that he didn’t like. She had traced Harper back to his roots, he was a middling CEO, real name Zhang Henry.

She had looked into his associates and it seemed that many of them were working with Harmony.

On Osdal, Harmony had taken their time in growing. There were agents throughout the ranks but the Osdal Harmony had been smart, they’d opted for creating cells.

Zhang Henry ‘Harper’ seemed to be one of those cells. A specially trained operative sent to Masoul for the strict purpose of raising hell and knocking out Strike Station and Gas Planet.

More information was coming in from the planet, but not at a rate that Nivad was happy with.

Nivad’s eyes left the Osdal head.

“From now on we assume that the enemy has the same capabilities as us in the area of information gathering. That was the reason screening took so much longer today, that, and because this information I’m about to tell you is not to make it into the public realm.” He looked around, and people paled under his gaze, trying to hide their fear. “Harmony have the ability to make powered armor and weapons capable of piercing trooper armor,” Nivad said, there were some knee-jerk reactions, but no one intentionally interrupted him.

Nivad snapped his fingers, and folders appeared from Wallace’s briefcase, which were distributed around the room.

Nivad paused to let his people take in the true weight of what he was implying. Plus, the fact that all of the information was on paper instead of electronic copy.

“The weapons can only be used in stationary positions, but we need to strike the enemy so that won’t matter and it will make things more difficult on Osdal. I expect them to take a toll on Masoul Actual as well. They’re not just using the planet to cut off the sphere from Earth and direct military action. They’re using it as a test-bed for their weapons,” Nivad said.

Only Dalia and Wallace didn’t look confused. He’d been working with them more closely than any other operatives under his control, even people he’d worked with for years.

And they didn’t look too pleased with that little fact.

“I have ordered the reserve powered armor in our storage to be sent to the front lines on the fastest freighter I was able to contract. With the powered armor goes three forces to protect it and the ammunition aboard that will allow trooper weapons to pierce the Chosen’s armor,” Nivad said, seeing a few confused faces look in his direction.

“Harmony call their fighters Chosen. It reinforces their religious ideology that they were picked to fight Harmony’s battles. That they were picked to fight the corporations,” Nivad said.

He didn’t care to get stuck in military matters or like to explain things to people. But with his need for expediency, he had to get this whole thing moving. He was playing on a different field, he had used the EMF as a hidden threat, a way to disperse favors and show his displeasure. Now it was not just a thinly veiled threat, it was his direct tool to change the balance of power. He had to back them to the hilt, at least the ones fighting against Harmony.

If the troopers lost and died, then there would be no one to stop them. Harmony wasn’t just a group of colonists thinking about rebelling. They had taken time to create, time to organize, and they were zealots. Their fighters went into a battle knowing that if they died they’d be rewarded.

You couldn’t make a deal with people that looked forward to dying for their cause.

Sure he had more troopers but he still needed to crush Harmony as fast as possible. Otherwise the military technology Nivad and the rest of Earth and her colonies had let stagnate would become inferior to the power of Harmony’s capabilities.

Nivad had learned everything he could about the EMF as fast as possible, and he saw it for the dysfunctional machine that it was; a machine that had been born from CEOs and their politics. It worked, but he now saw the need to have more than just politicians in the lower ranks.

He needed a military that didn’t just look good but could perform. In the higher ranks the leadership had been cultured to seek out corporation sponsorship. Nivad might be able to clean up the lower ranks, and with the old guard that were sitting in the higher positions, he would quietly force them out, filling the vacancies with capable and loyal personnel.

It was time for the infighting to stop for now. It could return afterwards; one didn’t want the EMF getting too strong to control.

Chapter 36

Landing City

Masoul Actual, Masoul System

12/3241

Mark looked over the fifty sets of powered armor in front of him. In that group Haas and Zukic rested. They might be Mark’s official leaders but Tony had picked Mark as his second.

Once the real fight started then Haas and Zukic would take over. In the meantime, they kept up the ruse and trained constantly.

Harper had come down all smiles and pride in the powered-armored Chosen that were capable of taming the power of the armor. Mark had wanted to punch the man in the face for all he had created.

Mark remembered walking through the barracks when a fight broke out. Mark and Tony had just been walking through, talking about the last time they’d gone drinking and making plans for that night when someone yelled out “Non-believer!”

Tony’s face turned from excitement at the coming night to instant anger, all of the enforcers flocked to the cry and grabbed a man being accused of being a non-believer.

An educator had been nearby and watched with interest as the accuser said that the other man had been in contact with the resistance and was trying to funnel rations and weapons to them. The accused cried and wailed his innocence, which had only increased as the educator walked into the fray.

“Well we shall find out the truth of these accusations,” the educator said, instructing Tony to pull the clothes from the man.

Tony did as ordered; the man bucking against him and another enforcer.

The man screamed out and writhed, yelling his innocence.

The educator made soothing noises taking their knife and drawing it down their chest.

The man screamed out as the educator asked him questions, skinning the man’s chest.

The man’s screams and tears dissolved into incoherence.

A matter of hours later and the man was talking about how the accuser was trying to make moves on his woman. The accuser looked shocked and hurt, saying that they were turning the blame on him.

The educator sighed, telling the accused that their lies would not help them here. More hours passed, blood covering the educator’s hands and the man looking more like a biology experiment than human, he died in agony. Mark was disgusted, he wanted to kill them all.

He had seen a good number of terrible things in his life, but nothing as crude or terrible. All because a man was accused of not believing.

As much as Mark hated it, he watched and went through it. If he killed them all then his people would have the same or worse done to them. It was cold hard math. He didn’t want this to happen to his friends so he did the only thing he could think of.

He slipped his blade along the man’s veins, quickening his end.

The enforcers nailed him to the wall and the educator wrote absolved in their blood. Then they walked away. Mark had heard them talk about various Harmony religious texts as blood covered their clothes. It was like nothing had even happened.

“Damn that’s thirsty work, let’s get a beer,” Tony said, unfazed by the violence.

“Haven’t seen anything that fucked up in a while,” Mark said.

“Yeah City Eight didn’t get many non-believers, here at central with a bigger population they can hide out, though we always find them,” Tony said, dark satisfaction on his face.

Mark had later followed the accuser, found him as he was breaking his way into a household. Mark heard a disturbance inside, the accuser was forcing his way onto a woman as a boy pitifully tried to fend him off.

“Get back or I’ll do to you what I did to your father!” The man yelled, pulling at the woman’s clothes.

She’d given up fighting when she saw Mark come through the door.

He’d grabbed the man by the collar and pulled him out of the doorway. The man struggled but Mark’s hand was a vice as he pulled him out of the house and down the street, and people spat on the man as he cried for mercy.

Mark saw the white of an educator.

“This one used the edicts of Harmony to kill a father and tried to rape his wife,” Mark had said.

The educators were a sadistic lot, but largely emotionless about their work. Mark saw a flash of anger in this one’s eyes.

The educator pulled up the man’s shirt, seeing the tattoo of Chosen.

“Was the man he had put to death Chosen?” The educator said.

The man was now crying, resolved to his fate.

“Yes,” Mark said.

The educator nodded.

“You have done well, enforcer,” the educator said, raising a communicator to their face, moments later, educators were walking through the crowd, and they took the man from Mark.

“For the sake of Harmony,” Mark said saluting to them.

They repeated the vow, solemnly, turning their attention to the man.

He lasted for days, educators moving through as they each inflicted their own unique brand of torture .

Harper and his followers had brainwashed the population and assured their rule through a combination of kindness and loving words, but when they were crossed they reacted with public displays of controlled violence. Enforcers were the cops and jury; educators were the executioners.

The system worked and made Harper’s words the words of a higher power, one that people believed they could never surmount.

“Today our great leader Harper will lead us on a parade of the city, I don’t want any fuck-ups. We are there to show the people of Harmony how we will beat the troopers, to inspire them with our strength and power, to assure them that their hard work has not been in vain,” Tony said, his helmet open as he looked at them all. His neck was covered by the bulk of the large armor, making him practically invisible.

Nods and agreement came back. They were nothing close to a military unit.

Most of them at least, Mark thought, his eyes falling on his people.

“Good, let’s go.”

Mark and the others had adjusted to using the powered armor. It had been slow going but Moretti’s enforcers spent every waking minute that the powered armor wasn’t charging, using the things or the weapons they were given.

They had hardened blades, rudimentary grenades, and a repulsor. There was no aiming assistance. Aiming was done by using the tracers to draw a line to their target.

They were getting better at hitting targets by feel, but it took practice. They were up to max strength whenever they could be.The training area was much too small to actually open up full throttle and truly run, but it was a freeing feeling. There were a number of issues with the command software and the internals of the powered armor.

Everyone cataloged the weaknesses and made sure to not work on them or raise them to the techs.

Don’t want Harmony improving the machines if they could help it.

They closed their helmets, screws and bolts sealing them, showing angles that were supposed to help deflect blasts and rounds.

The rest of the armor looked like an oversized human with long arms and shaped armor plates that were meant to take massive frontal damage. The back was hardly armored, another flaw that tank gunners a few centuries past were all too aware of.

People looked at them in awe as they marched through the testing area, towards the command center. They waited there; enforcers, Chosen and others looking at them and cheering, whooping, and yelling all kinds of Harmony propaganda.

Mark was thankful he was inside his armor and could openly show his disgust at them. He silenced the audio, scanning the crowds.

Harper walked out and people went wild as he stepped among the powered armor wearers. He was smiling and waving, saluting to a few, he was more celebrity than a leader. At least at this moment he was.

Mark looked around, they were safe here, but outside was different. If there was a threat he would have to react. He hated the need to protect Harper, but if he didn’t then the whole operation would be in jeopardy.

They exited the barracks and walked through not only Central Tower but also the other towers that made up Landing City.

They walked and walked, and after about four hours Mark was bored but watching the crowd when he saw someone move forward and bring a gun out of their jacket. Mark started to put his body in the way of Harper’s. Moretti who was also part of the procession, pushed Harper down, a pistol coming up in his hand.

Tony reacted, and the man’s rounds hit powered armor as Tony’s repulsor blazed, a five second burst turning the man and those unfortunate enough to be behind him, into clouds of gore.

Moretti had Harper up again, his pistol searching as pandemonium broke out and people scattered in every direction.

“Take us to the nearest barracks,” Moretti ordered.

“Spread out and cover them,” Haas said, over the private circuit with the troopers.

The powered armor troops fanned out around the group, taking off at a run. People ran away from them as their repulsors looked for targets.

A bomb went off somewhere, adding to the panic.

It wasn’t long until they reached the nearest barracks.

“A bomb went off in Tower Three’s barracks,” Moretti said, stopping before they entered the barracks.

“Let me send a few of the armored enforcers in to check the barracks out with their sensors,” Moretti said to Harper, who was looking shocked.

“Tony, check it out please,” Harper said, giving the man a weak smile.

“Mark!” Tony said, using his speakers. He and the other Powered Armor Chosen or PAC’s hadn’t got the hang of using armor to armor communications.

“Coming,” Mark said, following Tony, his sensors going to full as he looked around the room. His back had pretty clear blind spots as well as his sides so he had to compensate using his forward sensors to check the place out.

It was declared clear and Harper and the rest of the party hustled in.

“Powered armor cover the entrances. Tyler, Dooks with me, we’ll cover Harper. Mark see to the defenses,” Tony said, he and the two others following Harper into the medical facilities, the enforcers with him looking at everyone with stony eyes. Moretti was on his communicator talking to central control.

“Got it,” Mark said, making sure that people were at every entrance ready to fight anything that came along.

The resistance had been pushing for an operation to show their defiance of Harmony’s presence, but the troopers had told them to not go through with any such antics.  Doing so would only mess up their own plans.

So they’d compromised, the troopers taught the resistance, hiding their identities with masks and implants messing up their voices, and the resistance waited. The troopers kept their plans to themselves, not trusting the resistance. It seemed that their distrust was well founded.

Mark didn’t want to even imagine what could have happened if they had told the resistance about their plans.

Information started coming in, the barracks had been hit, but there had been no more attacks. At least it would make Harmony think that it was only a small group, but it also meant that Harmony knew the resistance could get a bomb into their barracks and if they could do that then they could get one into most places. Security was about to become tighter and Mark knew that the educators would be called out on more than one witch hunt. Maybe they’d actually get a resistance fighter. And if they did then they could start painting a picture that none of the troopers wanted painted right now.

“Sending message,” Haas said over the private channel. No one needed to be told what message he was sending.

Chapter 37

EMFC Reclaimer

Shipping Station, Masoul System

12/3241

Nerva got a priority alert as rounds whizzed around him and the company he had moved up with. He ducked behind cover and checked it out.

There was no shock, just his teeth tapping together in thought. It was a recording of the attack on Harper and a message from Haas. It was only two words.

Begin operation.

Nerva contacted the other majors on the field and in reserve.

“The operation begins, we push forward, slow at first, over the next three weeks I want to be at full strength. No Mercy,” Nerva said.

“We are troopers,” The other majors returned, green lights making rows on the top of his HUD.

He sent orders to his captains. It was time that they stopped pissing about and got to the real fight.

***

General Wai looked over the information with bored interest. She knew that reports were going to Earth and that someone was reading them, but other than orders to complete the operation, she was giving Nerva enough room to hang himself.

She wanted definitive proof of him stepping outside the boundaries before she jumped on him. She had ordered his lieutenant colonel and colonel to stop issuing orders, she’d had the others lessen the degree to which they held the reins over their pawns.

When he’d got the message from Masoul, he’d issued orders to the other majors. Yhat was something that no one other than her should have done.

At this rate she would have enough on him to get him removed before they reached Masoul. Then she might send a message to this Harper about Nerva’s prized platoon who were spinning up wild stories about powered armor and that this band of colonists were working with others.

Who the hell would believe such idiocy, she sneered. She’d long ago stopped reading the reports, chalking it up to Nerva’s people spreading lies to make themselves and their major look better.

Higher-ups told her to keep off Nerva’s back as long as he followed the rules. With his constant overstepping of his rank, she’d be doing those higher-ups a favor. They understood the need to cut down the commanders that got a bit too brilliant for their political masters.

She might even get a promotion for making such a display. It would keep the schemers and tacticians in the lower ranks.

She glanced at the reports on her desk holograms. One showed the cost to benefit ratio, the other the percentage loss.

Names, people, the troopers that died, they didn’t matter, she had bigger things to worry about.

Her private butler entered the room, putting down a tray of tea served in priceless porcelain from what had been the United Kingdom. It was centuries old.

The care the butler went through to pour the tea was an art in itself.

Wai took the tea, the butler standing off to the side of the room, nothing more than an expensive appliance, there to serve her needs.

She was looking forward to her next round of anti-aging treatments. With the end of this mission she should be recalled to the citadel where she could start building up her connections to the CEOs that called the planet home.

The military would allow her to go from a decent CFO to the higher echelons of CEOs.

With a wave she dismissed the reports on the troopers and instead pulled up the trading market, checking her stocks and balances. A few messages had come in from various CEOs wishing to buy her allegiance.

This was the real work. She kept the economy going, whilst the meat died out there. Sometimes they needed pruning like Nerva and other times they needed her intervention to keep her loss-benefit ratio from turning a negative.

***

Alexis looked over what had become her section.

Newly promoted Sergeant Donahue had caught a round and not even the medics could save him, turning the newly minted Master Corporal Alexis Xin to Sergeant Alexis Xin.

To say that she was anxious would be a gross understatement. Her new husband was somewhere with his platoon, apparently disappearing from all records as soon as the fighting on Shipping Station had started.

Then there were the new orders. They had been taking their time moving through the station, more time than most people liked, as booby traps were identified and Chosen killed.

The bastards liked to ambush them at every opportunity. With the slow pace that the leaders were pushing the troopers had developed better tactics for turning the Chosen’s ambushes against them.

It had taken them some time but eventually the Chosen had started giving up on the ambush tactic and instead went back to trying to use service areas to get behind the troopers, hitting them in the rear.

The people from Sacremon knew that tactic only too well - they also had mines and knew how to use them. It wasn’t unusual to hear yelling and then see a section of decking open up as blood colored the area.

Now the commanders were done sitting on their asses and they were pushing them forward.

They were taking their time bringing everyone into the fight. They were fresh, hell they’d been able to take bird baths with water, soap and a basin when they were pulled back.

The Chosen kept their people on the front lines and they wore down. They constantly made mistakes and generally fucked up.

Problem was that Harmony was getting good at getting people and supplies to the station. The carriers and combat shuttles had cut their numbers down, making it so only about half of those that got to the station or tried to leave it were able to.

Hell, they were getting more action than the troopers; well they were yesterday.

“Move it, Wiz! Malone get a fucking ‘nade in that gunner fuck!” Alexis barked to her section.

Wiz ran past her to the next position, his repulsor barrel red from shooting. His second, Feng, was attaching additional ammo boxes to his ammo pack to fill him up.

Malone popped out of cover and fired grenades into the heavy machine gun the Chosen had dug in.

The gun went silent as Malone ejected her mag, throwing in another and following the rest of the section.

Shipping Station was built in sections, each held about a hundred containers double-stacked, and between each five there were open corridors. No matter the cargo they were all stuffed inside the shipping containers that weren’t dissimilar to the shipping containers used since the twentieth century.

Different lifters lay all over the place, stopped in the middle of their activity, some holding containers, others blocking the corridors between containers.

Grapples hung from the ceiling, also in various stages of use or inaction.

The Chosen had turned the ordered sections into a maze, pushing down containers, making defenses and booby traps with them.

Alexis watched as one of the containers, held overhead a few sections over, dropped, its grapples blown away with small explosives.

It hit the floor and exploded, the entire section going up in a short fireball as oxygen was pulled out of the hundreds of holes in the station’s walls.

The heavy machine gun came back online, holing the container Malone had been shooting from. Alexis had her own worries as she followed her troopers.

Grenade launchers blew holes in containers.

Giuseppe went down in a hail of rounds, the rest of the section hit the ground or found some cover.

Alexis hissed in her helmet, Giuseppe was a black dot.

Wiz, opened up with his repulsor. Their other gunner Xiau had been cut down three days ago.

Horley was running the gun and she ran up ducking into an alcove. Rounds pinged the container but tailed off.

Horley’s gun appeared moments later, sending a stream of rounds into the target, as red halos appeared.

Alexis got to her feet and stepped out, landing two grenades among the Chosen fighters.

“Krank, get Horley patched. Wiz move up. I want supporting fire up there. Pedro see to it, I’m contacting higher,” Alexis said, a green light from Pedro on her HUD as she connected to Second Lieutenant Dang.

“I have moved up the right flank. Securing firing position within enemy fortifications,” Alexis said.

“Good, I’m sending Sergeant Hyunh and weapons det up to you,” Dang said.

“Yes, sir,” she said, cutting the channel. She could see the weapons detail moving from their over watch positions, the low gravity allowing them to fall from the top of two containers and run to her position.

Wiz was already hammering targets; Pedro had forces out checking their rear in case Chosen tried to flank. Other troopers were throwing grenades among the Chosen.

Rounds were flying in all directions and more than one set of lights were going out as they were struck and sent into a shower of sparks.

Tracers were even more apparent in the dark, someone was firing a repulsor against them, peppering the wall behind Wiz. The containers showed metal ingots, and rounds pinged around in there like in an ancient pinball machine.

Hyunh gestured to his people and then up, probably talking to them on a private channel.

“Hey, Xin, we’ll get some fire into the fuckers in no time, could your section provide cover?” Hyunh asked.

“Got it,” Alexis said, nodding to the man.

He nodded and pulling knives out from his lower back, he jumped, using the flat of his blades to pull himself up the container wall.

Alexis could already see a clearer picture of the fortifications on the other side of the containers.

The red markers disappeared under a wave of fire, and she could feel Hyunh’s guns going to work.

“Pull back in, fire teams. Pedro detail a fire team to stay with Wiz and Horley, the rest of you reinforce the other approaches. I want a two-fer up on these containers watching for possible Chosen container hoppers,” she said.

The section got moving, people pulling back from the front roles and moving to secondary ones.

Her two people on top of the containers tagged Chosen moving over the containers. They were Malone and Riccardo, both were on the good side of shooters. And they took their time sending Chosen tumbling off of their containers; some were blown back mid-jump.

Alexis acted as a conduit to her troopers, waiting for the inevitable order to move into the fortifications and clear out any of the Chosen fuckers left behind.

Chapter 38

Landing City,

Masoul Actual, Masoul System

12/3241

As soon as Harper was secured back in the command center and they were away from prying eyes, Tyler disappeared down into the tunnels that led to the resistance headquarters.

Dasan, the man that had said to kill him at the first meeting was celebrating.

“You fucking idiot,” Tyler said as he moved past him and into the audience chambers.

“What you say, you fucking enforcer fuck?” Dasan said.

Tyler felt the blade under his right arm fall into his hand. In one fluid motion he flicked the blade between his fingers and threw it.

Dasan screamed, dropping his drink as he put his hand to his shoulder, the blade lodged deep as blood welled around the wound.

No one moved to get in Tyler’s way, they had seen the trooper’s way of fighting, none of them were drunk or stupid enough to try anything.

“Because of your fucking stupidity, our plans are being moved up months, and you know what, more fucking people are going to die. You make me fucking sick, you’re no better than Harper, sitting down here, toasting the good fucking times,” Tyler said. His hands were shaking; he was doing everything in his power to hold himself back.

“Better than...” Tyler punched him so fast and hard in the face, Dasan only got two words out before his sentence came to an abrupt end.

He dropped like a sack of shit and Tyler pulled his blade back, cleaning it on the unconscious Dasan.

“Five people died cause of that little fucking act, and that’s just in the last few hours, the tunnels will run red with blood by tonight, and you didn’t even fucking kill him,” Tyler said, looking to the others that were drinking with Dasan.

“Fucking drink up boys and girls; it’s time for the fucking troopers to go to war. Then you’ll see a real battle. Then you can drink, but it will be to try and forget those that you knew, and the images that play like a slideshow in your head. Till then, I see one person in the resistance even fucking eye alcohol...” Tyler looked in all their eyes to make sure they saw his anger; all of them looked away and the chamber was silent, “then I’ll fucking deal with him. I’m not a fucking educator, I’ll just kill them.” Tyler looked at them all again, their eyes were cast to the ground but they could still feel his glare.

“Pass the word,” Tyler growled, pushing his arm above his head, the blade sliding back into its holster.

He walked away. Dasan was making noises on the ground, but no one made to help him to his feet, and cups and bottles were left on the table as the group dispersed as quickly as possible.

Tyler marched into the hall; the guards went to stop him but the look in his eyes made them open the door instead.

There was a wall of decrepit screens along one side, people worked consoles on the other side of the wall, and in the center there was a flickering hologram above a table that Song was leaning on.

“Tyler,” Song started, a war of emotions on her face.

“You fucked up all of our planning, Dasan was your man and he fucking kicked this shit-storm off. Now we have to work with what we have and get things started. I want you to call the resistance together, it’s time they had more than just a few popguns.”

Tyler opened a secret pocket on his enforcer jacket and pulled out several folders, throwing them on a desk near her.

“We should have had weeks to plan this out and have the people trained up, now we’re going to have more fatalities, but if we’re to succeed we need to hit hard and fast before Harmony starts reinforcing these positions,” Tyler waved to the folders.

“Tyler, we still have time,” Song argued.

“Not any longer, we don’t. The EMF is on the move. Pausing their advance only gives Harmony more time to reinforce positions and turn this FUBAR situation worse. These towers will become abattoirs if we wait much longer. The resistance needs to keep Harmony off balance until the EMF reaches us,” Tyler said, watching Song carefully.

She looked at the table, studying the folders.

“Right now, they’re in shock, and we need to press that advantage before they find their balance. Get your people armed and in the fight. If we don’t attack now it will only be worse for the resistance and the EMF. Hopefully, it will take some attention from the witch hunts that will be started because of Dasan’s antics,” Tyler said, his tone softer.

He waited, as she searched for an answer in that table top. The room was quiet, none of the people along the walls or throughout the room talked, all of them feeling the tension in the air; they stood on the precipice of war.

Finally, she nodded, the motion becoming harder and firmer as she did.

“The resistance will fight,” she said, looking up to Tyler with new fire in her eyes.

Tyler didn’t whoop or cheer, he simply nodded and advanced.

“Good, then we have a lot of work to do,” Tyler said, opening one of the folders in front of her.

***

Explosions started going off and the sound could be heard in the distance. Jerome, Kojo, and Huang looked to one another, nods passing between them. They turned from the market vendor, heading back to Moretti’s apartment.

It didn’t take them long to reach the apartment. They tapped on the door in a set code, and a slot opened; Jerome knew there was probably a gun pointed at his groin.

“Hey, Tal, want to let a guy in?” Jerome asked.

“Hey, boys,” Tal said, opening the door, as the three came into the room.

Minutes later there was more banging.

Haas came in, escorting Moretti, Bairamov, and Domo with him.

Jerome grinned, as the rest of the enforcers arrived.

Moretti was complaining about the noise, but he and Mark grabbed cigars and started puffing on the couch.

Jerome pulled out a cigarette and lit it.

Everyone was safe and accounted for. Jerome just hoped that the plan they’d cooked up for the resistance worked out.

Jerome took a long drag on his cigarette, flicking ash into a tray.

He didn’t particularly like the normal cigarettes, but the flavoured typed with stims and relaxants were pretty nice, plus the activity gave him something to do.

Some read books, others pulled out a deck of cards, a game of euchre was started in one corner, but most smoked and talked.

Tal and Iliev were at the door, their weapons ready. They talked about this and that, and smoked, but their eyes were always around the door.

“I wonder how long the resistance will take to beat down,” Mark said.

“Depends really, I wonder what the hell they’re going for,” Moretti said, looking to Mark and the others in the room. Maybe one day they would tell him, but for now it was best for his security and theirs if he didn’t know.

Moretti recognized that on a level, and grinned, sitting back in his seat and puffing on his cigar.

Jerome noticed the way it shook.

Not for the first time Jerome wondered how the man had stayed sane and kept doing his job through all of Harmony’s occupation.

Jerome had seen him among his ‘followers’. They might see Moretti as their guide to Harmony over Harper, they were enamored with him and he could do no wrong. They happily did whatever he asked.

He treated them better than any other unit, made sure they were fed, and then let them do as they wished. He had carried off missions of the highest importance, second only to Harper. They were all Harmony and they all trusted him with their lives.

What a shock that’s going to be when he stabs them right in the back, Jerome thought.

He had also wondered more than once if Dan Moretti would have liked them as much if they had met at the beginning of Harmony’s rise to power.

He showed his mean streak now and then, but with the troopers he relaxed. He didn’t treat them as equals, but they were from the same place, they had similar values and that was something he hadn’t shared with many in a long time.

Dan Moretti wasn’t a trooper by any stretch and he was a bit of a snot still, but he had become one of the few people that Jerome wouldn’t mind having a beer with once this was all over.

They watched one another’s backs in different ways. The way he had organized the freighters to be over Gas Planet when EMFC Reclaimer and Fearless arrived would get him a beer from any trooper he asked.

The fighting was still going when Moretti got a message.

“Seems that they are attacking weapon and ammunition vaults… used some rather interesting ways to enter the places,” Moretti said, as he looked around seeing the interest on all their faces. He smiled, scanning the contents of the file, making sure it wasn’t traced.

That done he sent it to all of their implants. Without the medical techs and implants available no one had received implants in years. Those that had them and longevity treatments were good to go, everyone else was down to using surfaces, earbuds and their mark one un-altered human body.

Jerome looked through the incoming reports, the battle was fluid but the resistance had hit a few hours after a shift change, late enough that the first shift had gone, the area had cleared out and the people had got bored.

Explosions in more barracks put people on alert and busy responding, which was perfect for the resistance fighters to swarm the various armories and holding facilities.

So the night went, people wasting their time away as the resistance hit Harmony again and again.

It lasted thirty-six hours, everyone staying inside as a war was waged throughout Landing City.

Then it ended and people started putting the pieces together.

Eight armories had been hit all over Landing City. After further investigation another twenty-three had been burrowed into, and groups had used the distractions of the attacks to haul away entire armories. When they were opened bombs exploded, destroying anything left behind and killing Chosen.

Jerome hadn’t seen his platoon this happy since Tyler’s wedding and before ‘that’ shuttle ride.

“Looks like those damned troopers are making progress on Shipping Station. Makes you think that the resistance and the EMF are working together,” Moretti said, flashing everyone a smile. There were a few grins but everyone was tense, the operation that they’d been planning for months, and wasn’t supposed to happen for a few more had been started.

There was no giving up or backing down, it was do or die, not for just them but for the people of Masoul, as well as the troopers and combat shuttle crews of Reclaimer and Fearless.

Jerome knew that more than one of them was going to have trouble sleeping over the coming days.

Chapter 39

EMFC Reclaimer

Shipping Station, Masoul System

3/3242

Alexis stepped off of her combat shuttle, waited for all of her section to make it off, then she followed. Ever since they’d reached Masoul it had been a hard fight to hold the ship, then Gas Planet, and finally Shipping Station.

Gaining entry to Shipping Station had been the biggest problem, but once they were aboard they pushed through Chosen’s lines with good speed. That was until they met the booby traps.

Higher-up agreed with the troopers on the ground in a rare display of common sense.

Progress had slowed to a halt, they’d dealt with booby traps, adapted to Chosen’s tactics and taken their time to move forward, then in the space of a few days they’d gone from making slow progress to bringing their full strength against Chosen.

Fucker’s didn’t like that much, Alexis thought as she remembered the troopers rushing the Chosen positions that they had thought to be impregnable. Troopers had moved over the hull and they’d hit Chosen from every direction possible.

It had taken time, as Chosen had numbers on their side and better weaponry than on Gas Planet but in the end they fell.

It had taken a toll but it was nowhere as bad as Alexis and others had feared.

A large part of that was due to the majors working together in the field.

Alexis looked up as she heard a commotion over near one of the combat shuttles that had just been raised up from its landing hangar to the flight deck.

A message came over Alexis’ HUD.

They’re trying to arrest Nerva, fuckers are saying that he went over their heads to cut orders that kept us alive!

The hidden chat rooms and networks were filled with angry words and clear annoyance.

Alexis wondered what idiot thought to arrest Nerva when everyone was coming back from Shipping Station. They were pissed and filled with anger, preparing themselves for the next battle and taking a moment to remember those that they had lost. Just as they were starting to relax they pulled this shit, when every trooper still had their armor and weapons on them.

***

General Wai looked at the reports coming from across the ship; armed and armored troopers were demanding information on Nerva and the other majors that had been taken into custody for being in violation of the EMF code of conduct.

She looked at the reports with disgust.

Pawns should know their place instead of making trouble for others, she thought.

A communications tech let out a breath in a hiss.

“I will not have any of that conduct in my command center,” Wai said.

The communications specialist ignored her and walked to the planning table where the lieutenant colonels hung out. The ones that were still attuned to the troopers on the ground.

The man walked right up to Colonel Domashev, the only colonel in the group.

“Communications tech! When the general gives you an order you listen; consider yourself relieved, get put back to sleep, another will take your place,” Wai said, waving at the man; she’d see that he had no livelihood once he was kicked from the EMF.

He had been Lieutenant Colonel Domashev on Sacremon but his work had got him an extra rank, though it hadn’t been enough to get his mind off of the troopers on the ground. Thus why he was at the kids table.

General Wai felt something was wrong with the way that the communications tech was bowing to the colonel deeply.

“Thank you, son,” Domashev said, as moving from the table, he pulled a surface from a charging drawer. He quickly crossed the distance to Wai’s seat and passed her the surface.

She was about to yell at him too when a seal passed over the front of the surface, it was from the commander of Earth’s Military Forces.

She pulled it from the man, wondering why the hell he would get the message before her.

General Wai,

Upon receipt of this message, consider yourself relieved from the service of the EMF, place yourself in storage until a time you can be revived. Colonel Domashev will be taking over your duties for the duration. With this the officers that you imprisoned are free to carry out their tasks for the coming attack on the EMF.

Do not anger this Ministry more.

There was no signature as one wasn’t needed with the seal; the message had been sent minutes ago. Though the part that scared her the most was the capitalized ‘Ministry’ that wasn’t a reference to the EMF, it was a reference to the Ministry of Intelligence.

The real power of Earth and her colonies ran through the Ministry of Intelligence. Nivad was the emperor and the ministry was his tool to command the people of Earth and her colonies. Including the corporations. No one else came close to that sort of power.

Her blood ran cold as she saw her future crumble and her past become worthless.

She sat in her chair, looking at the hologram that rested in the center of the room showing Masoul Actual. Communications personnel ringed it on the opposite side, facing her and the hologram. Four tables were on either side of the hologram with meeting rooms and lounges that the higher-ups and her favorites relaxed in.

Her thoughts of climbing the EMF ladder were gone, political positioning was gone. Messages started coming in on her personal messages, companies withdrawing their support from her. She stood numbly and walked out of the command center, barely hearing Domashev barking orders as the colonels moved from their tables to the hologram and started pouring over the reports from Masoul Actual.

***

“Seems that Mr. Selvra wants you to win this battle,” NIDenise said in Nerva’s head.

“What did he do?” Nerva asked.

“Called for Wai’s execution, but got her to step down, too many connections for that. As soon as the announcement went through the EMF’s back channels her backers disappeared. No one wants to piss Nivad off while he’s fighting this new war.”

A military police officer came down the brig and unlocked the doors, releasing some pissed off officers.

He opened Nerva’s pen.

“Sorry, sir, I was under orders and…” the man started. Nerva raised a hand and walked out of the cell.

“You were doing as you were ordered. Discipline and following orders keeps the EMF rolling, if we didn’t have that then we wouldn’t get anything done,” Nerva said, raising his voice so the other officers could hear him.

“So, what we doing now, boss?” Ortiz asked, spitting tobacco juice into a bottle.

“We get ready for Masoul Actual. I want reports from all your people by tomorrow night, same for you Demar and Sholtz. Take today and tomorrow off, our people deserve to sit this fight out, but we all know that’s not going to happen so we have to prepare as best as we can.” Nerva looked to his division’s officers and the other officers that had backed his play and would have been stuck in the brig with him if it weren’t for the fact Nivad Selvra needed them to fight his war for them.

This universe is a strange place.

“Tell me something new,” NIDenise said in his head.

Chapter 40

Tower

Earth, Sol System

3/3242

Nivad didn’t look at anyone from the EMF the entire meeting, instead he had the people from Osdal and Masoul lay out their information.

“They understand that this isn’t just another rebellion now. And they don’t know what to do with themselves,” Wallace said, smoking a cigarette in Nivad’s office. Dalia also smoked in her own chair. This was the inner circle deciding the fate of Earth and her colonies.

Nivad exhaled, back to his regular stim-cigarettes.

“Good, then they will understand your appointment to them as ‘advisor’,” Nivad said.

Wallace didn’t look pleased with the idea but he nodded.

That’s what Nivad liked most about the man. When given a task, he’d put his head down and do it, no matter what the task might entail.

“How is the supply freighter looking?” Nivad asked.

“It’s on schedule with thirty-six more years to go until it reaches Osdal,” Dalia said.

“Good, and the closest carrier?” Nivad took a drag of his cigarette.

“Eighteen years,” she said, checking her surface.

“Reclaimer is the best ship that we have right now, all forces are to reinforce them, so have the reinforcements slow down. I want Reclaimer to be the first on scene, they’ve shown that they’re capable of thinking outside the box. I expected that they would need to stop their advance already with numerical losses. If they can do this much with two carriers then I want to see what they can do with seven,” Nivad said, looking at the others. Reclaimer had already served more fighting hours than most other carriers had experienced.

Reclaimer and Fearless had more months of active fighting than the rest of the EMF combined.

Nivad wanted to use their veteran status as the core for the EMF in the upcoming war.

“Population projections for Osdal?” Nivad asked, looking to Dalia.

She exhaled slowly and looked at her surface.

“Forty-three million,” she said, looking back up at him. Osdal was a labor intensive world, and with their great natural resources they refined and shipped most of the EHC’s compound materials; everything from the crystal matrix that made up the towers to the cermite pads cities were built on, and special materials used in freighter and carrier’s solar sails.

It was one of the oldest colonies settled.

Their processing and shipping center was bigger than Masoul’s Shipping Station. Most of their materials were sold to the rest of the sphere, being turned into various goods before getting shipped off to Earth and the other colonies.

“I still don’t like the lack of information coming from Osdal. The population is big enough that Harmony operatives can hide in the general population and they have none of the command and control abilities that we have here on Earth. Something that I want to change as soon as possible,” Nivad said, looking to Dalia who was typing out a reminder with one hand, and holding a smoking cigarette in the other.

“Just three days until the EMF reach Masoul Actual,” Nivad said, looking at the screens.

“At least Colonel Domashev is listening to the advice of the operatives on the ground. They might be useful for further operations,” Wallace said, looking at Nivad.

“Yes, they might. Keep tabs on them, though. From reports, they already have quite the following, called the Triple Two’s, they’re Nerva’s people, and he’s groomed three of their four section commanders. If that man was given enough time he could turn Reclaimer into something terrible,” Nivad said.

“Knife edge,” Dalia warned.

“Quite, he is useful for winning this war, but he’s dedicated to his troopers. That’s useful for now, but if he’s still alive after the war then it could become a big issue. We don’t want people caring about those below them too much. If they started doing that then they might stop agreeing to missions. We will not make the mistakes of other intelligence ministries in the past. If we give someone power and means we must also have an option to remove them from the equation; we can’t have people thinking that they’re able to act without our orders,” Nivad said.

“That’s why General Wai was put on ice and relieved of her position but not removed from the EMF. She and the other officers are kept at bay for now, but if he acts out then you release their collars,” Dalia said, new understanding in her eyes.

“Exactly, we sharpen our blade because we must, but we make sure that there is something to stop the blade being sharpened on both ends and pointed towards us,” Nivad said.

Chapter 41

Landing City

Masoul Actual, Masoul System

6/3242

Moretti was in the command center with Mark and Ali standing behind him, and everyone else was with the powered armor, lounging around the development area.

Harper was looking over reports from his command chair and not looking at all bothered with the two Earth Military Force Carriers that were now in Masoul Actual’s orbit.

There was tension and anger in the air, and more than one fight had broken out in the Chosen’s barracks as the carriers moved from Shipping Station to the planet.

“The carriers are rotating,” someone said, sounding confused as everyone watched the main screen which showed Reclaimer in the planet’s sky.

Lightning crackled in the background causing the image to dull.

Mark fought to keep the grin and hungry look from his eyes; instead he was displaying a sneer that most Chosen and enforcers had adopted.

They might think that their dark looks and threats will have an effect on the carrier, I doubt anyone has ever seen a carrier do an orbital bombardment before a landing in years.

“We’re getting reports of weapons fire!” someone said, their voice squeaking in alarm.

As they talked, projectiles made lines through the planet’s atmosphere, connecting with the ground and hammering targets across Landing City.

The pounding could be felt in the command center as railgun rods as big as a table smashed into the ground.

“Weapon emplacements on the surface are being destroyed, our hangars and sensors are also getting pounded,” someone said, as if they couldn't quite believe the reports.

As if hearing their words, the sensor feed saw a flash of bright light, a high density rod from Reclaimer’s cannons turning into a meteor as it hit the sensor and cut it off.

The room was in panic as damage reports came in from the surface.

People were yelling and ordering others around, trying to get some kind of report out of the surface batteries and people.

Then the rumbling from the impacting rounds stopped as Reclaimer passed out of range.

People looked upwards, as if trying to understand what was going on.

Red lights and warnings blared on screens but people were stunned into silence, many of them probably hoping it was over.

It’s just started, Mark thought. Fearless took a few minutes to get into range.

Alerts doubled as more installations were rendered useless.

Mark saw Harper out of the corner of his eye; the man looked at the screens, his left hand holding his chin as chaos took over the command center.

Mark knew that they would get used to the bombing, people adapted quickly, but afterwards there wouldn’t be much left to threaten the combat shuttles, other than the planet’s really terrible weather. That would get cleared up as well if the higher-ups were finally listening to Haas’ ideas.

Mark almost laughed as he remembered the brainstorming session when they talked about how deadly the planet’s storms were. Their answer was on the destructive side of things, but if it worked then not many would be complaining. Well EMF people; the Chosen would be pretty fucked up.

“Go dark,” Haas ordered, using his sub vocals so no words came out of his mouth. Everyone turned off their implants and augments.

“We have reports of resistance fighters attacking sections of the city,” someone reported.

“Dispatch Chosen to hunt them down, tell people to report to their positions. From now on we’re on a war setting. I want enforcers out in the streets making sure that no one tries to go against the rules,” Harper said, still holding his chin and looking over everything, like a man might look out on a fresh new day that would turn out nicely.

***

Fearless and Reclaimer had been pounding the absolute crap out of Landing City; there weren’t any viable weapons emplacements left on the surface, sensors had been cut down, and shuttle bays were smoldering ruins.

Tyler looked over the information feeds from the computers in the tech wing’s control room.

All of the powered armor was charged, weapons ready, and loaded in their positions.

Tyler looked over to where Bobbie, Yu, Jerome, and Dashtund stood; those four were standing next to a supply closet playing euchre.

In the supply closet was a welder and extra armor plates. While they hadn’t told the techs of the changes they wanted to bring about, it didn’t mean they weren’t prepared to fix them themselves.

Tyler’s eyes looked over the techs, Chosen, and other powered armor users around. Everyone was tense, a few looking up while none of the carriers had a bead on Landing City.

Like clockwork another carrier rotated into position, firing over the horizon and hammering the ground once again.

The others complained that Moretti’s enforcers were able to sleep through it all.

Tyler put it down to nerves, they were anxious as the infamous troopers were finally coming down to Masoul Actual; the troopers that had taken two-hundred and twenty thousand of their own people and killed nearly six times their number on Gas Planet and Shipping Station.

Tyler and his platoon didn’t have those same nerves, they were excited to see their brothers and sisters. A few had trouble sleeping because they were so excited to be putting their plans into action.

Waiting for Reclaimer and Fearless to pound the shit out of Landing City’s surface ate away at them; it was almost time for them to get into action.

“What the hell?” Stan said, bringing Tyler’s attention back to the room they were in.

“Are those missiles?” someone else asked.

“But why would they be using… shit those must be nukes! And we don’t have a fucking thing that can shoot them down!” Stan said, his eyes widening as he stared at the screen in panic.

Tyler let his arms drop to his sides as he looked to Ali, Obe, and Kojo. They all nodded to him.

They pulled their weapons out from under their dusters, no one was watching they were so focused on the screens.

“Yeah, they are nukes, welcome to the reckoning, fuckers,” Tyler said, as the four opened fire. The techs and Chosen in the room didn’t have time to react as the silenced weapons fired. The door was sealed so no sound escaped the room.

“Check them,” Tyler said. Only the troopers were left standing. He moved to the doorway, opening it, and let out a high-pitched whistle.

***

Mark heard the whistle, and his hands that were resting on his pistols came up, shooting as soon as they were free from their holsters; the silencers made two phut phuts, and Tony and the other enforcer with Mark fell to the ground. Mark turned, aiming with his right pistol. Everyone was looking towards the noise, or at the enforcers that were pulling weapons from their dusters.

Mark fired at the non-troopers, his implants showing red halos dropping.

His right pistol was empty and he started firing with his left.

Mark saw light in the command room as weapons fired.

His second pistol ran out of ammo and he jumped for the doorway, dropping his pistols, and grabbing the E-12 he’d stolen from the armory just hours earlier.

His hands found the familiar weapon.

“Dashtund move right, Sasa…” Mark was cut off as fire clipped his cover. “Get me some covering fire!” Mark said.

Weapons responded, the familiar E-12s deafening.

Mark ran from his cover, firing and diving for a computer console, and tracers ripped through the air. The troopers controlled the area around the powered armor, but there were still Chosen in the catwalks to the rear of the powered armor’s training area.

Mark fired at Chosen, he was just meters from the training area really close to where they stored the armors.

Troopers were yelling all over the place, but his training enabled Mark to only tune in to what was important to him.

“Moving!” he barked, as his people’s firing rate went up, tracers ripping through the catwalks, red halos falling away, and others ducking.

Mark ran, pulling off his duster and dropping his rifle.

He went tumbling as his leg caught a round.

The thing was a mess, but it worked.

“Mother fuckers!” he said into the ground, pushing himself up, and ignoring the cuts on his arms and hands.

He got into the powered armor, locking it and powering up.

It took a few seconds, rounds pinging off his armor.

The armor plates locked around him and the cradle released, and he grabbed the repulsor on a wheeled cart in front of the powered armor.

He fired, and the repulsor beat out even the E-12s as a solid line of tracers connected him to the catwalks.

Chosen ran for their lives, and troopers cut them down as Mark changed from continuous fire to bursts.

Another repulsor opened up to Mark’s side. Dooks had a repulsor in his hands and was servicing targets.

“Fucking crazy man!” Mark shouted.

“Can’t all be using fancy armor like you, sarge!” Dooks shot back, not even looking away from his targets as he put lengthy bursts into any targets he could find.

Tyler and his people were now firing down from their position in the command center.

Mark’s implants showed that Holm’s section with Zukic and Haas had cleared out the armories and were pushing into the catwalks.

Weapons fire reduced as fewer red halos appeared.

“Jerome, take your section to clear out the catwalks. My section will support,” Mark said. He wanted to be in there and fighting. It would keep others out of the line of fire, but he knew he would be a liability with his busted leg.

“Understood, move up one section!” Jerome said.

They did so.

Mark glanced at the catwalks, they looked like a holed mess. Lights were broken, machinery smoked, and electronics gave off bursts of sparks. The bodies of enforcers, Chosen, and techs lay everywhere.

Weapons fire told of Holm’s section finding enemies within the catwalks.

It was a tense twenty minutes with bursts of ferocious close fighting. Mark felt useless as he held his fire, not shooting for fear of hitting his own people.

“Clear! Mark take care of the enforcers at the door,” Haas said.

“Ko, could you do that, I can’t walk right now,” Mark said seeing his closest section member.

“Gotcha,” Ko said, and moving to the door, he let his E-12 fall, the sling pulling it back under his duster as he pulled out a pistol, and checked it was loaded with the silencer on firmly.

Mark ambled over to the door. Ko went through; there were two flashes of light in the blacked out darkness of Central Tower.

“Can I get a hand?” Ko asked.

Mark made to help.

“I’ve got it, boss,” Dominguez said. “I think you’ll want to deal with that,” she said, pointing to Tony.

“Yeah, I do,” Mark said, ambling over to Tony whose eyes widened as he tried to grab a gun, blood coming out of his gut and side.

Each cough made his face screw up in pain, telling of a punctured lung.

Mark opened the powered armor, pulling a pistol from his side.

“Fuck you, Tony,” Mark’s gun barked. Tony’s limbs ceased to move and his chest deflated.

Mark turned, feeling eyes on him.

He saw Tyler looking at him. He saw the concern in his eyes. Mark had seen a lot of things that would stain his soul for a long time. Killing Tony would make him sleep easier. He might act like a good guy, but his fanaticism had made him sadistic.

With the stories Tony had told him about rapes and torture, Mark was only sad he hadn’t killed the piece of shit earlier.

Mark gave Tyler a thumbs up and went to the charging cradle he’d taken the powered armor from; his leg was hurting something fierce.

“You okay, sarge?” Niemi asked.

“God, it’s good to hear that,” Mark grinned, getting a smile from Niemi, who had blood on her face from her first kill. They’d been only just a few feet away.

To some she might have made them piss their pants, but Mark found it reassuring.

“Want me to have a look at that?” she said, lifting her chin to indicate his leg as he limped.

“Yeah, got fucking shot,” Mark said, as getting into the cradle, it linked up with the armor and unlocked the rest of the panels.

Niemi made him lie down in the repulsor casings and got to work on his leg.

Mark looked over his HUD, it had taken just ten minutes to secure the research and development area, he’d been the only one to get hit.

He let out a sigh of relief.

***

“All clear and tombstone tapped,” Ali said. Tyler nodded. Nothing but troopers alive behind him.

“Good, activate the bombs and send word to the resistance,” Tyler said, feeling his tension ease. Now they could stop with the spy crap and focus on being troopers.

The three pulled sheets out from their dusters, each claiming a station. The room smelt like copper and crap. Tyler hated dead bodies.

The three didn’t know what all of the codes did but they followed instructions and input them.

There was screaming now, Jerome, Bobbie, Yu, and Dashtund’s game of Euchre was spread across the crate they were using, the door to the supply closet was open, and they were dragging gear out.

Haas could be heard coordinating the other troopers, Mark, Ko, Niemi, and Dominguez moved through the main door leading out of the tech area, blades in hand.

Tyler watched it all, hoping that it was fast enough. They needed control of the area, and now.

Tyler felt more shaking, this time from around the tower and Landing City instead of above it.

“Seal the suits!” Tyler barked to the three working in the room, still checking that no tech or Chosen was going to try and walk up on them.

Mark came back into the room carrying two bodies, and dropped them on the ground.

Tony was still alive. Mark pulled out his pistol, dropping the bodies inside the doorway.

Tyler watched Mark look at the man and tombstone tap him, the back end of the man’s head a pile of mush.

Tony was no longer of this world.

Mark turned to Tyler, probably feeling his eyes on him. Mark held his thumb up and ambled over to Niemi who was pulling out a medical kit.

Tyler heard someone making their way up the catwalk, the stairs ringing with their feet, Tyler pulled his rifle up and turned the corner, pointing right at Haas.

“Hey, boss,” Tyler said, his rifle coming down as the officer approached.

“How we looking?” he asked, pushing past Tyler.

“Boys are getting the codes in; we clear?” Tyler asked, looking out on the rest of the tech area.

“Yeah, the rest are doing a final sweep,” Haas said, taking a sheet from Obe and working on inputting more codes; it shouldn’t be long now.

“Done,” Kojo announced.

“Do these ones,” Ali said, giving him more codes.

It took sometime before all of the codes were read out, sent to the right triggers and read as working.

“So, what did we just do?” Tyler asked.

“Took out power generators, and the sewage system is flowing backwards now, plus air recycling systems blown to shit. Multiple armories are gone, sensor grids out of action. Blew up the majority of the tunnels, destroyed the fuel containers and a ton of energy banks, the power plants are all on lockdown. Ammunition and armor manufacturing areas ain’t there anymore. Hit the food stores as well, gave a number of them a good dose of bacteria from the waste recycling systems,” Haas looked at Tyler with a grin on his face.

“We just took the feet out from under them and it looks like the second phase is just starting,” Haas said.

The others in the room grinned and laughed, it wasn’t a kind thing, it was the sound of a job well done and relief that they’d carried it out.

“Now let’s get down and help up-armor that powered armor and make some real war-machines.”

***

Dan Moretti looked pissed as hell, like he wanted to rip someone’s head off. He was actually enjoying the looks of panic in the command center.

He loved seeing Harper’s face whiten a few shades and the way he rubbed his hands nervously.

Oh, what was that, did we just cut you off from your masters so they’ll never know the results of the battle? Whoops! Moretti had requested that Nivad not show all of the battle for Masoul Actual, and his request had been accepted, the video would be heavily censored before going out. No one wanted Harmony learning more from the battle than necessary.

Some remote sensors were working, and their fuzzy videos caught the explosion that appeared above Masoul Actual.

“The hell?” someone asked. A few eyes watched the screen, but most of them still worked their systems.

Moretti knew that new ground was being broken here, nukes hadn’t been used against a colony ever, that he knew of.

He waited, time seemed to stretch and people stopped caring about the explosions in the sky, they were more concerned about the ones that were happening in their city.

Then systems started going blank. At first it was just a few, then it was all of them, as lights started to go out and the smell of burning and ozone cut through the air as the command center descended into darkness.

Moretti pulled out his lighter, flicking it on.

“The hell just happened?” Dashtund demanded, looking at where the techs were. “I can’t see a fucking thing, it’s darker than a witch’s asshole.”

That Dashtund does have a way with words, Moretti thought.

“You’d know,” Moretti said low enough that only Dashtund could hear him. It was hard for Moretti to not smile.

“Looks like the power is off,” someone said. Others were trying to get consoles working, lighters were coming on.

There was a WHUMP! As the crapper off to the side of the command center went up in flames and a person came flying out.

Flames erupted from the room, burning anything they could find.

Moretti remembered the reports on the waste disposal systems being reversed. Many people forgot how shitters were damned essential and dangerous. All those fermented goods travelling through the pipes to be separated were now being pumped right back into the population.

Most of those gasses were flammable, as the poor bastard trying to find their way out of the shitter just found out.

Moretti looked at his cigarette and quickly stubbed it out.

“Let us move to the secondary command center,” Harper said.

“Harper, if you don’t mind I want to go and check on the powered armor, if our electronics are down then they might be as well,” Moretti said.

Harper looked at Moretti for a moment before nodding.

“Good, go and send a runner back to report. Stay there and coordinate things from that position,” Harper said.

“For the sake of...” Moretti never got the words out as Landing City shook with an explosion that made the railgun rounds from before seem like love-taps.

“They’re bombing us!” Someone said hysterically. Panic spread through the command center.

Moretti took his leave, grabbing a flashlight that was working and taking an enforcer with him.

Moretti didn’t care and marched out of the command center. The barracks were even worse than the command center, they were rallying and running in every direction, but there was no control. It wasn’t panic but they were throwing themselves around and heading upwards, most of them believing that the troopers had arrived.

Moretti stayed out of their way and took back routes to get to the research and development area; there weren’t any enforcers around but lights were on down near the doors and armed figures stood behind barricades.

“Who goes there?” someone sounding like Domo said.

“Domo, that you? It’s Moretti, here to take command, seems something took out the electronics. Is the powered armor working?”

“Ahhh, yes, sir, sorry about that, sir,” Domo said, his gun lowering.

“Good man.”

“For the sake of Harmony!” Domo said, saluting.

Moretti hoped the enforcer with him wouldn’t pick up on the sarcasm in his voice.

“You, go back to Harper, tell him that I am with the powered armor and it looks to be functional,” Moretti said to the man.

He saluted, did the goddamn “for the sake of Harmony,” and fucked off. Moretti walked past the lights to where Domo and Niemi were.

“Holy shit, I’ve heard those fucking five words too much for a lifetime,” Moretti said.

“For the sake of—” Niemi started, raising her fist and laughing at his pained expression.

“No, for the love of all things holy,” Moretti shook his head, speaking freely for the first time in nearly fifty years. “God, it feels good to talk without worrying someone’s going to hear you,” he said, pushing open the doors to the lit development area.

“Amen, to that,” Domo sighed, pulling the armored doors shut.

Moretti looked at the powered armor. Plates were being added over their joints. Young was moving between troopers working command consoles next to the powered armor.

“Fuck, someone leave the lights on?” Moretti said, looking to Zukic, who was examining ammunition packs.

“Hey, Moretti, good to see you,” Zukic said, holding out his hand. Moretti shook it, as he looked around. There was blood splatter here and there, plus he could smell the bodies that had been thrown together. He’d smelled enough bodies in his time on Masoul that it didn’t affect him much.

“We cut off the external cables physically. We’re running on the techs’ genny down here; without lines to connect us to the EMP raging through the lightning collectors on the surface, we’re A-Okay. And seeing as everyone had to change over to that after the generators and power banks were out, well, let’s just say most of the city should be as dark as hell,” Zukic said.

“Color me impressed,” Moretti said, looking at the troopers working on their machines and checking weapons.

***

Madam Song’s parents had been killed by working themselves to the bone and then giving their rations to Chosen. Song had thought of them as liberators and hope for the future.

Her parents had died in a tunnel collapse and no one had been interested in helping the young girl that had been left an orphan.

When Song had got a bit older, Chosen took interest in her body. They were Chosen, and no one, not even the enforcers, cared what they did to her.

She had sunk into the tunnels, finding others that hated Harmony as she did.

They had plotted their revenge and stayed hidden. Hope had flared when the troopers had shown up. They had stayed in the shadows, not wanting to let their presence show in case Harmony came down on them. They knew they couldn’t win a war against Harmony without the troopers’ help.

It was one of the things that had surprised her so, when they had brought Mark before her and he had shown her the tattoo of a trooper.

Her parents might have wanted to escape the companies, but she saw them as salvation. They weren’t nice people and they weren’t gentle, but they had trained her and her people in the ways of war, had shown them how to make bombs and given her plans that allowed her people to gain weapons and armor that had been hoarded away.

Tyler had told her to keep electronics in metal boxes if she wanted them to work; the entire command center had gone down, but the things in those boxes still worked.

With the power going out, a new phase of attacks was put into motion. Resistance fighters put on their armor and grabbed their weapons and used the tunnels they had built and lived in for years.

Their grenades and bombs weren’t powered by electronics; they were simple gunpowder constructs and chemical formulas that exploded upon mixing.

They dropped them into barracks, threw them into moving groups of Chosen.

Chaos raged across Landing City, the resistance fighters hitting Chosen from the darkness and then running away as fast as they appeared.

“Go,” Song said to Henry. They stepped out between market stalls, hurling their grenades at the two groups of Chosen before ducking back behind cover and down a grate that led to the tunnels.

She heard an annoyed cry, then the explosives going off. Screams were cut off with weapons fire.

In the darkness, no one could see the smile on her face as she saw panicked Chosen being cut down as they tried to find cover.

“Let’s go,” Song said, looking to her band of fifteen people. They followed her through the tunnels, guided by fluorescent paint that marked their position—another thing that Tyler had advised her on.

With the right tactics and enough grenades, fifteen people could do a lot.

Chapter 42

Combat Shuttle Three-One-Seven

Masoul Actual, Masoul System

6/3242

“Here we fucking go, ladies and gents, time to give these fuckers a nice hello.”

The massive armored doors opened as the pilot talked. The shuttle, like the others around it, was sealed up, the engines primed and ready. The carrier was actually protected against EMP, as was the shuttle. They saw the first two missiles explode, their streams high above Masoul Actual.

It didn’t take long for them to fade to nothing.

They seemed kind of unimpressive, but they were supposed to knock out all of the Harmony forces’ electronics.

The shuttles pushed out of the carriers, flooding out through their hangar doors like a waterfall of shining beetles. Alexis’ shuttle joined the tide, then flipped tail over tip so it was facing Masoul, upside down from their original point. To those inside, the floor was still down.

Got to love gravity controls, she thought as the shuttle turned on the power.

It was time that they got rid of these fuckers once and for all.

Alexis checked the feeds that the combat shuttle pilot was streaming to the troopers.

She watched as a bright light made the sensors dial down. Missiles had gone off in Masoul Actual’s atmosphere, their purpose to clear out the storm coverage and push the massive cloud formations away.

“Wooo! That’s what I’m fucking talking about - clearing the skies trooper-style!” Wiz yelled, getting a grin from the others.

The grins were short-lived as the missile blasts cleared. The clouds pushed back as the shuttles headed for the storm and Landing City below.

They all knew what waited for them down there: a fight for survival.

Alexis checked her weapon and her harness, chewing gum as they hit atmosphere, her guts rolling about with the turbulence and choppy flight.

Turbulence wouldn’t kill her, but hell if it didn’t feel like she would just drop all the way to the ground. In a way, she was, streaking towards the planet in a man-made meteor.

The shuttle came in hard and braked hard; the chairs pulled up, and the troopers were held like livestock on a rotating belt. Trapdoors opened and the ground rushed past, air whipping around them as they watched the uninhabitable planet below.

Humans could only live in the planet’s crust.

Alexis surveyed her section, looking at the men and women that had fought over planets; they had each seen more than fifty people would ever see in their lifetimes.

She wished that they could leave and have normal lives. Being a trooper wasn’t a life; it was an action, it was a brotherhood and sisterhood.

They had joined the EMF to get a better lot in life, and they had. They had gained a family, and with that family, they had gained a new understanding of pain.

The people around her wouldn’t have cared if she died on the streets back home. They would have only been interested in what they could pull from her corpse.

The training and trials she had gone through to get her tattoo and the stripes on her armor, that had changed everything. They wouldn’t just watch if she was hurt, they would pick her up and fight her battles with her. Nothing was too small or big for them.

They would stand and fall together.

It sent a wave of purpose and emotion through her, all of it turning into fierce anger at Harmony.

Troopers weren’t good people. They weren’t the best of humanity; they were the motherfucking wolves, the price of the status quo. They came to assert power and return balance to the worlds they met.

They were hardened from the scars that lay under that armor, that lay on their very emotions. Revenge, anger, loss, pain, fear, all of it boiled into one thing.

They would give their lives for one another and make some other fucker die so that they could live.

Fuck the noble shit, that was what they were, the fucking wolves, the fucking hitman at the door.

The shuttle’s air brakes went to full power, opening up fully.

Alexis’ line whizzed out, her shoulders out of the craft as Horley’s legs started coming through the hatch.

They fell, lines of troopers, in a ripple onto a landing pad.

Alexis hit her harness; it fell off her as she grabbed her E-12. She didn’t need to cock the gun; she was already loaded.

She looked out across the landing pad. Thousands of troopers were raining down, and the air was thick with combat shuttles dropping off more troopers or returning to the carriers above.

Her HUD linked into a set of scans, information filling her helmet. With a glance, she saw that she had a full map of the entire city.

“Alexis, take the lead. The rest of you get into formation,” Dang said, the platoon down on the ground and just a few hundred meters apart.

“Contacts!” barked the pilot, who had just dropped Alexis off and was still connected to her net. The shuttle rotated, and its guns came alive and missiles fired as the first rounds started coming from an access hatch.

Other combat shuttles rained fired on any targets that showed themselves.

Alexis and her section kept running, spread out like the tip of an arrow. Only if someone started hitting around them would they start reacting; for now, they were pounding the ground. All this tech and they were fucking running.

Alexis’ momentary levity was lost as one of the new machine guns that she and all of the troopers had been warned about opened up on troopers charging across the landing pads.

Missiles blew the thing to shit, but the first reds, yellows, and blacks now dotted her HUD map.

Pedro was the first to reach the door that led to a stairwell into the tower below.

He kicked the door in, and it was nearly ripped off its hinges as Diez and Summers charged in, E-12s up and ready. No flashes could be seen.

“Clear! Hear motion, but moving down,” Diez reported.

“Move it, people!” Dang barked. The section piled in, the rest of the platoon following shortly after.

They spread into the stairwell and moved to the first level that they found.

Only brief rays of light penetrated to this level. Alexis’ view filled with red targets; Chosen waiting to move.

“Fire!” she yelled, rounds already leaving Summer, Diez, and Wiz’s barrels before she finished the command.

“Move in, secure a foothold. I want repulsors ready to move in right afterwards. Hyunh, you seeing this?” she asked, her brain working on adrenaline and the augments that Tyler and his brothers had pressed for her to get.

“Seen. Moving forces to you,” Hyunh responded.

“Good.” She cut the channel to go back to her section’s. “Pedro, I want this stairwell secure, then push past. We’re going to have those fuckers up here at some time. I want to be ready for them,” she said, climbing on a railing, jumping down a floor, and rolling as she landed.

“Shit, Alexis, you could have fallen all the way to the bottom,” Horley said.

“Sometimes shit ain’t so crazy in war,” Alexis said, hearing Mark’s words come from her mouth, and wondering where that mass of muscle and deadly intent was. She sensed that she would find out soon enough.

Horley seemed fine with that answer and pushed on, as Pedro and the rest of the section moved down to the next level.

Alexis’ view changed as her HUD started getting to work at making her able to see in the dark. Hyunh and the weapons detail had used the surprise created by Wiz, Diez, and Summer, pushing hard into the first floor.

The rest of the platoon was moving to assist, with a new group behind them pushing through to help Alexis.

“Pedro, how’s the second floor looking?” she asked.

“Chosen moving around. Not as bad as the first floor, but a build-up.”

“Alright, send it up to Dang, tell him to have a platoon or higher take the objective. I want to move down as many levels as possible and get as much…” A hatch opened, showing a girl sitting there with a flashlight. She looked over the troopers.

“Message from the Triple-Twos: welcome to the fucking party. My name’s Jolie. Tyler said that you would have sensor units; give them to us and we can put them up across the tower,” the girl said, jumping down from her hatch. Other kids were behind her, all of them looking skinny, but Alexis saw a fire in them.

“What’s Tyler’s nickname?” Alexis asked.

“SWAS,” Jolie said.

“Give her your sensor units and the mines,” Alexis said to those around her.

Alexis opened a channel to Dang as she stuffed mines into the bag Jolie had produced.

“Just met a resistance contact who comes bearing a message from Triple-Twos. They want sensor units,” Alexis said, her section pulling out sensor units as she and Horley faced down towards the stairwell where Chosen might come from.

Bags were produced and sensor bricks the size of a person’s pinkie and filled with sensors were tossed in, as well as the small disk mines.

They were shuffled back into the duct; Alexis could hear people moving off with the equipment.

“Got a resupply coming in with extras. Move your section up and keep clearing; as sections pass, they’ll hand off their sensor gear and mines,” Dang said.

“We’re going to clear lower. As sections pass, they’ll give you their sensor gear,” Alexis relayed to Jolie.

“Alright,” Jolie said. Alexis had already started seeing sections of the tower on her HUD showing red haloes of moving Chosen in real-time.

The troopers’ job had just gotten a bit easier.

Chapter 43

Landing City

Masoul Actual, Masoul System

6/3242

Nerva looked over the reports all around him; resistance groups had made contact, and a sensor grid was quickly being established. Colonel Domashev was pushing troopers and supplies out of the flight deck as fast as Combat Shuttles could be loaded.

The majors were dealing with the action on the ground, the lieutenant colonels giving advice instead of orders. The majors were the ones on the ground actually dealing with the problem head-on.

Even then, if a section was under contact and couldn’t follow Nerva’s orders, he expected them to tell him to go to hell instead of try and carry out his orders and put themselves in a position that would get them all killed.

There were no reports of powered armor yet; hopefully there wouldn’t be. Right now he was focused on getting people into Landing City, pushing down from every tower’s landing pad. The faster he could get enough people on a level, the more he could use the confusion and fear that was raging through Chosen’s ranks.

There was limited light in the city, meaning that Chosen had to do with the few lights that they had left—here and there a fixture on a secondary grid that hadn’t blown out worked. It was rare, but it happened in some sections.

Other Chosen had flashlights, but it was chaos in there; they wanted to close with the enemy, but it was pitch black beneath the surface, buried under tens or hundreds of meters of rock. Light never reached down there, and people didn’t know what to do.

Nerva needed to capitalize on that. In Central Tower, they’d gained access to the first floor, flanked them, and put a weapons detail right into their midst. You could walk across the floor without ever touching the ground now.

He looked to the adjoining towers; he knew that Haas had said that the tunnels connecting them should be down except for the ones that the resistance used, but Nerva wanted to be ready for the enemy factor. No matter what, one could never completely understand what the enemy might do. Sure, they could in broad strokes, but down on the individual and section level, no military leader was that good.

Nerva worked his way down to the third floor. Fighting was sporadic and across the level. Level five was the worst, while the first level was completely cleared.

He saw sections move through the remains of offices. A grenade went off, and it must have caught something extra, as suddenly a large chunk of the offices went up in a large fireball, the explosion throwing office cubicles in every direction and flattening the section moving up on the weapons fire.

Chosen were thrown, screaming, and a number of them were on fire and running.

“No mercy!” Nerva heard someone call.

“We are troopers!” the others returned, letting Chosen run burning to death. A few took the easy route out, putting their guns to their heads and pulling the trigger.

The troopers regained their feet and moved forward; medics moved to help those that had caught some kind of office appliance or Harmony renovation that had been turned into shrapnel.

Nerva played through the recording, trying to figure out what the explosion had come from. He looked at the oxygen levels; they were kind of low.

“It’s from the waste recycling systems; the bathrooms are now bombs,” NIDenise supplied.

Nerva sighed and shook his head, opening a channel to his officers.

“Seems that the Triple-Threes blocked the shitters, backed them up, and now they’re gas bombs. Watch out for them when you’re shooting,” Nerva warned, getting green lights on his HUD. He sent another message up to Domashev, who had the word passed around.

“Sounds like a bad comedy,” Captain Ortiz said.

“Quite,” Nerva said dryly, looking to the four other divisions that were moving to support him.

He opened a channel to the other two majors assaulting the central tower with him.

“Push on through us. I want to keep them off balance and hopefully leapfrog our divisions down. We’ve got resistance fighters on the lower levels making Harmony’s lives shit. Pass them your sensors and mini-mines; they’ve got ways to get a sensor grid up and running instead of going in blind. Also, watch out, the shitters explode if you so much as look at them with a spark,” Nerva said.

“That has got to be one of the weirdest sit-reps I’ve ever heard,” Major Duvall said, laughing in her helmet.

“Exploding fucking shitters, sounds entertaining,” Loa laughed.

“Masks and filters on, the gases will kill most who start sniffing it in. Seems that thirty years of gases and nastiness were pumped into the air,” Nerva said.

“Ughh, nasty,” Duvall said. Nerva saw her forces moving down past his own and deeper into the tower.

Sporadic fire came from his right; he saw the Chosen firing. He brought his rifle up and fired controlled bursts at the red halos. The three troopers with him joined in, one popping a grenade off in the direction. The Chosen, blind and confused, didn’t stand a chance.

Nerva went back to scanning, the grenade putting an end to the fight.

“What’s that old saying, better out than in?” Soo said with a laugh.

Loa groaned as Duvall laughed.

Might slap a rank on them, but they’re still troopers at heart, Nerva thought with a sigh, watching as troopers moved out onto new floors, sections fanning out and cutting down Chosen as they found them.

Greens changed colors as they pushed on, but the Chosen couldn’t shoot what they didn’t see. Troopers hit the ground, shooting from their stomachs, the Chosen firing over them, the rounds leaving their barrels blinding their night vision and making them useless.

Their city had turned into a prison; they couldn’t see their targets, their air was getting stale and used, and at lower levels, resistance fighters would throw grenades in their midst, usually making Chosen cut one another down.

This is planning, this is how war is waged, and how it shows you just how terrible it can be.

The Chosen were learning; in the dark, they couldn’t see their losses, so they were charging the troopers.

They were cut down, most times; other times they reached their lines.

Brawls were breaking out, coming down to blades and strength.

Again, the troopers had an edge, but the Chosen had numbers.

They had nearly thirty times their number; they could afford to lose a few to close with and kill the troopers.

***

Jerome flipped his face shield down and went to work with his welder, adding extra armor to the vulnerable joints.

A few were moving in their powered armor, others running tests as they tried to work out the kinks and bugs they’d noticed.

They were packing months of development into hours, maybe days.

Haas had set up a rotating list of people to work on the powered armor, some working to reinforce them, others that were made to rest, and those watching the doors.

They had lived together for nearly a year; they had become closer than they thought possible in many ways.

A look or gesture from one was all they needed; words were a bygone.

They might have hated one another after the shuttle ride, but now they were focused on the goal that they had worked for nearly a year to obtain: the fall of Harmony on Masoul. It was within their grasp.

Excitement filled them and pushed them to do more, to finish up the final steps. They worried about the EMF forces that were descending through the city.

They waited and improved, knowing that all too soon they would be called on, yet it would always seem like it took too long.

Haas moved across the floor. His control had improved in bounds in just a short time of practice. He wasn’t a pro—none of them were—but they acted more like kids going through an awkward growth spurt than walking on stilts for the first time.

Moretti was moving around the tech area, floating from terminal to terminal, unlocking their secrets, downloading them to his implants and making extra files that were uploading to everyone’s implants. As long as one of them made it to the troopers, then the message would get back to Earth.

The information was apparently vital to Earth and her colonies. As they were now able to talk freely, Dan Moretti had finally given them his story.

The man hadn’t had it the worst, but he had needed to hide his true self for so many years that it wasn’t until the troopers had arrived that he’d thought there was a possibility of him ever escaping Harmony’s control.

He talked of his thoughts that Harmony hadn’t come from Masoul, that someone else was using Masoul as a proving ground.

The troopers had come to trust the spy and took his suspicions seriously.

Jerome finished tacking the armor plate in place and started to get to his serious welds. The armor plate had been bent and formed to fit over the shoulder joint; it was already welded to other plates, which made armored shoulders like the ones the troopers used on their regular strapped-on armor.

It took him time, but it also took his mind off the fighting above him. He, like every trooper, wanted to get in the fight, to help out their brothers and sisters, but here they waited.

Jerome flicked his mask up a while later, checking his welds. He moved, his back aching from the concentrated and slow work; it took a lot of time getting the armor plates to melt and fuse to one another.

He saw Moretti standing with Haas and Zukic; no one looked happy as Moretti stopped talking and Haas rubbed his face, obviously having to make some kind of decision.

Jerome was impressed with the control Haas showed with that simple act; it would be only too easy for him to break his own jaw with his new strength.

Haas looked around, seeing Holm and Sasaki.

The two were wearing unaltered powered armor, all unarmored joints. At least their control systems had been fixed up.

The suits that the troopers were going to use were all in their cradles except for Haas’. They wanted to have them at a full charge as soon as they stepped into them. They’d been training every moment they could. They still weren’t the best at handling the machines, but they had the basics down.

With a glance and a wave, Holm and Sasaki stomped over to the group.

Jerome watched with interest as the two nodded, their helmets dropping over their heads and sealing.

They checked their weapons out of reflex and Moretti moved for the doorway. Holm and Sasaki walked with him, easily catching up.

They had done nothing but work on their control of the powered armor during every minute they hadn’t been planting bombs or inciting the resistance, and it showed.

Jerome caught Zukic’s eye. Haas was watching them leave; not many would see the tension in his jaw or the emotions that Haas tried to hide, but Jerome knew the man almost better than he knew himself. He could see the pain that lay there, the apprehension at sending two people he respected and cared for deeply, out into the madness that had consumed Landing City.

“Gather in,” Zukic said to the rest of the troopers watching the exchange. They finished off what they were doing and huddled around Zukic and Haas.

“Moretti’s going to head up to the command center Harper is holed up in, get us a better read of the situation. Holm and Sasaki are going to act as protection,” Haas said, looking at them all.

“Now get back to work, that powered armor ain’t gonna reinforce itself,” Zukic said, his look telling them he would brook no argument.

“Only two to go, for us at least. Shall we up armor the others in case we can get some more troopers down here?” Yu asked. He was technically a higher rank than Haas, but he was a combat shuttle pilot, no trooper, and he was a smart dude. Bit of an adrenaline junkie, but a good dude.

Jerome would take his shuttle any day of the week, but here on the ground, those smarts turned to common sense as he looked to Holm for guidance.

“I can see what you’re saying, but no, can’t leave the risk of the enemy getting them and using them against us when we get out of here. I want them stored in one of the armories; if we can, we’ll grab them afterwards. Booby-trap the place so only we can get in there,” Holm said, looking to Yu.

Yu nodded in understanding. He might not have been a trooper, but he could understand their line of thinking.

“Now git! Damn lazy bastards!” Zukic said, effecting a sour mood, but the smile that showed through took the bite out of his words.

They grinned and talked in their groups, moving back to their projects.

“Need a hand?” Mark asked, coming over to Jerome.

“Sure, I’m pretty beat,” Jerome admitted.

“You look it. After you up-armor Niemi’s, get some sleep. We need you ten by ten,” Mark said, tapping Jerome on the shoulder.

Mark didn’t show his feelings much, a tap here, a quiet smile there.

It was why the two blades he’d given Jerome meant so much. It wasn’t just two weapons, it was an admission—Mark and Tyler were brothers by their actions, and they both wanted to add another brother to that mix, and sister, in the case of Alexis.

“I will,” Jerome said, flashing a smile, but it didn’t last. His mind quickly turned to Alexis, who had become like a sister to him, and all of the other troopers he knew were fighting for their lives across Landing City.

***

Close to twenty-five thousand troopers had been dropped on Landing City.

In eight hours, they had secured the first seventeen floors before the Chosen either made a mistake or started rubbing brain cells together. They couldn’t see in the dark and electricity didn’t work, so they went caveman.

They set fires to illuminate the floors in yellow flickering light. The troopers’ HUDs had to compensate for the flames, making it harder to see Chosen in contrast to the pure darkness, though they still held an advantage in that area.

Alexis and her platoon were on floor nineteen; it looked to be an office area, with a large cafeteria in the center at some point.

All paths led to the cafeteria, so they moved through the offices.

Alexis opened a door slowly, throwing a sensor stick into the cafeteria.

They hadn’t had them on Sacremon, but they’d proven their worth on Shipping Station and Masoul Actual already.

Serving cubicles lay along the walls, and the center of the floor was filled with tables. Tables that had been ripped from the bolts in the floor and turned into a circle to create a crude defense.

Flammable materials had been thrown outside the circle, illuminating the space. The heat was high, as was the carbon dioxide; without the air systems on, they were burning up their oxygen.

Chosen were moving behind the barricades. Pallets of food had been used to bolster the defenses, and four of the large machine guns that were able to punch through trooper armor were facing down the corridors leading to the cafeteria.

“I want a firing line across these offices. Ready murder hole charges,” Dang said to the entire platoon. Alexis let the door close slowly. Wiz took up a firing position behind it, lying down with his repulsor.

The platoon spread down the length of the offices.

Alexis saw the other platoons and companies with them moving into position in the offices they were in.

She would have cleared the offices out, but the Chosen were ad-hoc fighters—lots of fanatics, not a lot of tactics.

Alexis placed the small charge about the size of a pack of cards against the wall. Green lights showed her section was good to go; she relayed that to Dang.

Everyone was doing their utmost to stop themselves from making noise. Once they were in position, they moved as if in molasses to avoid stepping on the broken glass or trash that littered the offices like the rest of the towers.

“On my mark, blow the murder holes and open fire,” Nerva’s voice was calm and reassuring, as if reminding them that they’d done this tens, possibly hundreds of times in training. Here was no different. They knew what to do; they just had to trust themselves as he trusted them. “Three, two, one… mark,” he said, his voice never rising or lowering, just calm and collected.

That’s why he’s called Iceman, Alexis thought as the murder hole charges went off across the offices. Her own blew out, giving her room to put her E-12 through.

It seemed everyone had the same idea as grenade launchers fired.

Cafeteria tables were made of aluminum sheet metal. They were pretty strong for everyday use; for barricades, they made good shrapnel.

Shards of super-heated aluminum tables ripped through the Chosen. Their new armor stopped it where it could, but unprotected limbs and heads were ripped apart.

Repulsors opened up and Chosen returned fire, ripping through the thin office walls. Troopers went down, but it wasn’t usually deadly.

Machine guns let loose. Moving from side to side, cutting down troopers.

A lucky grenade found its way into one heavy gun’s ammunition storage. Green tracers ripped through the Chosen around the gun; they shredded the defenses and mangled the gun.

It was one gun of tens, maybe hundreds. Chosen filled the gap left and fired with their rifles, moving forwards.

It made Alexis think of the fighters on Sacremon, advancing and pushing forward.

A grenade landed next to Wiz; he jumped on it as everyone dove away.

Nothing happened. After a moment, the troopers started to rise cautiously. Wiz grabbed it from under him and threw it out.

“Fuck, must be dead from the EMP,” Wiz said, the fear and shakiness in his voice clear.

“Lucky bastard!” someone called. Everyone started laughing as they got back to their positions. Alexis replaced her magazine, smirking in her helmet.

Death had landed at their feet, and now here they were laughing at it.

She wanted to pick Wiz up and hug his dumb ass. Without thought, he’d looked to saving them, even if it took his life.

No one did or said anything else; to do so would have been to admit that they could have died. Thinking on that could drive a person crazy.

If you don’t laugh, you cry. She slammed her fresh mag home and stood up in her murder hole, flicking to semi-auto, following Chosen halos and putting rounds into them.

Pedro grunted. Alexis’ eyes flicked to her section’s status and saw that he was red.

He’d taken a round in the leg, but someone was already with him, applying sealant and the necessary needles. A medic had already been called for, and her section was staying on task instead of focusing on Pedro.

She decided to take a page from their book and got back to nailing targets.

“Alexis, get your screamer into that thing,” Dang said in her ear.

“Okay,” she said, clipping her rifle to her stomach and grabbing the tube on the right side of her pack. “Wiz, move! Blowing a screamer.”

Wiz grabbed his gun and rolled sideways. He and his second got their blades out, making a new firing position on the wall as Alexis pulled the tabs off the front and back of the screamer’s tube, sent up an alert that she was firing, opened the tube, and checked into her back-blast.

Before anyone had time to walk into her back-blast, she had the tube up on her shoulder. She was braced for impact and facing through the door she had opened originally; it was now hanging by one hinge and sported fist-sized holes through it.

She sighted the defenses and pressed the firing stud. The screamer rocked and kept true to its moniker. An ungodly howl ripped through the air, drowning out the weapons’ fire making lines of light through the darkness. Air blasted back in its wake, washing over Alexis as she dropped the tube and saw the missile hit the defenses.

The first charge went off. Tables and barricades were thrown aside, tumbling through the air as a hole opened up through the defenses. The area shook from the impact. The second-stage accelerated shrapnel was ejected from the missile’s body, and anything near the missile’s impact or in its path turned to a holed mess. Not even armor could stop the screamer’s wave of destruction.

A section was moving to the hole. People stopped firing as they moved past; their weapons were up and ready, searching for targets.

Red haloes appeared, and the assaulting section’s guns blazed.

Weapons fire from the offices slowed down as two more sections joined the first. They moved steadily through the wreckage that had been the Chosen’s defenses. Bodies burned, and the fires they’d set before were everywhere; some offices were starting to go up in flames. Most fire suppression systems were broken, but a few still worked; they did what they could, but the troopers moved from the fire.

“Clear!” a second lieutenant called from inside the defenses, the sections coming out as platoons and companies formed back up.

“Good work, troopers. We have resistance fighters needing assistance on floor twenty-one,” Nerva said through all of the troopers’ helmets.

“Ammo and buddy check,” Warrant Noel said.

More than one person patted Wiz’s back for the earlier save. Pedro, Hiet, and Cho were with the medics; everyone else was good, although low on ammunition.

“Okay, I’m sending up an ammo request. Boxer, till later notice, you’re my second. See what the ammo situation is. I’m going to check on floor twenty-one,” Alexis said, and then turned and left for the stairwell, trusting her team to follow orders without her there.

***

Moretti didn’t want to have to leave the troopers and their powered armor, but he knew it would be suspicious if he spent more than eight hours down there. Fighting was raging all across Landing City and Chosen were everywhere.

The resistance might have been a small group, but they were a small group with grenades in a pitch-black city that they knew better than those they were attacking. They could turn the city into a living hell. Moretti looked over the fires that made the already stale air thick with smoke. He could smell the sewage and the fires that were raging untouched by Chosen or anyone else.

There was no order to Landing City; order was created with a gun, and power was given to those with a flashlight.

Interesting how the rules of power can change in an instant.

Chosen ran at Moretti, their guns brandished.

They didn’t even see the powered armor.

“Put your fucking ha…” a repulsor from Moretti’s right went off. Sasaki lowered it; the three Chosen fighters hadn’t seen her in the shadows.

Holm moved up, flames glancing off of his armor. What Moretti saw sent a chill down his spine.

The blackened armor was framed by fire; it looked human enough, but its deadliness was clear, with armored plates, powerful servo motors, and scratches that showed use already.

It wasn’t just the armor; the way Holm moved, the weapon in his hands, all of it served to show him as the fighter he had been molded into.

“Let’s get to the command center,” Moretti said. Holm’s helmet tilted slightly in assent. As people saw the armor moving with Moretti, they gathered around and followed them, as if seeking their guidance.

It didn’t take long to reach the command center, and with Chosen following them, no one else mistook Moretti’s identity.

Holm moved up first. The enforcers let them and Moretti through, while the Chosen milled around waiting for orders. Enforcers acting as runners rushed past them, spreading orders to Chosen fighters to try and organize them all.

The secondary command center didn’t have the offices and extra rooms of the primary center. Here there was what had been an auditorium, the stage now covered in screens as people worked consoles from the various levels. Some consoles were working, but in other areas, there were runners who rushed past the doors; some were returning to different areas, passing on their messages and preparing to run back out with new orders.

It was a simple system, and working flashlights illuminated the area somewhat.

Harper stood at an unpowered table at the rear of the auditorium.

“Harper, what’s going on? I’ve come back from the research and development area,” Moretti said.

Harper turned around. There were more lines on his face and his eyes darted to the armored door frequently. He was anxious, without the confident air he’d had for years.

“Moretti, it is good to see you. I was scared that you might have been hit by the resistance,” Harper said. An explosion went off, dust falling.

Everyone ducked, one person screaming out; a server bank had fallen on them.

An enforcer stepped over to them.

“We had one attack; most of the techs died,” Moretti touched Harper’s shoulder, his face grave. “Stan is dead as well, but most of the powered armor is functioning and working. Tony has secured the area. Seeing as I cannot pilot it and I would get a message to you the fastest, I told them to wait until they got word or wait another two hours before moving out,” Moretti said, removing his hand.

Harper nodded, looking to the floor. Moretti could see the cogs working behind his eyes.

He looked up to Moretti, a decision made.

“I want you to order them to destroy all of the equipment other than their charging stations. I don’t want the EMF getting their hands on it,” Harper said.

“What about helping out with the defense?” Moretti pushed.

“I will send a runner,” Harper said.

Moretti got closer and looked around to make sure no one could hear. Holm and Sasaki were far enough away to make it seem that they couldn’t hear. Moretti knew that their audio recorders would catch every word, though.

A gunshot rang out, drawing everyone’s attention to the enforcer that had gone to help the person under the server bank.

Moretti looked back to Harper, who looked saddened by the enforcer’s actions but understood it. Harmony didn’t have the capabilities to heal a person; better to put them out of their misery and get people back to work.

Over the years the technology had broken down and people failed to pass on their medical knowledge. Most of them had been killed when Harmony came into power.

“We have troopers in every tower; they didn’t take many casualties securing the landing pads.

“They’re moving hard and fast, securing different routes into the cities. It looks like the resistance is helping them. They must have guides or something; it’s as if they know the layout of the entire city and all of the towers.

“Combat shuttles have dropped all of their troopers. They continue to drop ammunition and supplies and take wounded back up to the carriers. We can only assume that most of the troopers that get to the carriers will be back to fight us in a short time.

“Our weapons are cutting them down, but the resistance has the same weapons; they’ve made rolling turrets, moving carts down hallways and firing onto barracks. Somehow they were communicating to the EMF, as they’ve got grenades and explosives that don’t rely on electronics.

“I never knew that there were so many that had strayed from the path,” Harper said, shaking his head sadly.

From the path, give me a fucking break. You told them to do what you said or you’d have them tortured. You thought that people were good, that those who were kept at the bottom, given the power of those at the top and weapons to secure it, would be happy. Moretti remembered the first weeks where the CEOs and those in higher positions that lived on Masoul Actual were captured by the Harmony forces.

The lucky ones had died right away; the unlucky ones had been used by the Chosen, discarded, or kept around for amusement. Harper hadn’t believed the reports. When he came near places where they were keeping the CEOs or their families, the Chosen would kill them. Saying that they had ‘strayed from the path’.

Moretti had known a number of them. Out of mercy, he had killed as many as he had found; those in his Chosen forces that did the same thing were summarily executed.

Moretti might have had blood on his hands, but he would happily do it again. The companies weren’t the greatest, but they gave stability. They did not depend on leaders that swayed groups with words and were in turn swayed by the words of liars and scum.

“Don’t worry, retribution will come, swift and terrible,” Moretti said. Harper nodded, but Moretti wasn’t talking about it coming down on the resistance that he had nurtured into being.

“Yes it shall, and Harmony will come out victorious,” Harper said, holding to his idiotic beliefs.

“What about the systems that were broken? Can we get power on - the air or the sewage?” Moretti said, pressing Harper for every piece of information he could get.

“Those systems are lost, that explosion from earlier was a result of the broken sewage systems. Our lower floors are filling with water; we have already lost five in central. The ninetieth floor with your powered armor will take some hours before it is flooded. Here on the hundredth floor, we have two hours until the water reaches us. Our air is becoming thin, and we will have to change to re-breathers and tanks soon enough,” Harper said, sighing. “If you do not hear word from me within four hours, you are to attack the trooper lines. There’s not enough oxygen for us all, and the fires are only helping with that. Either we will push through them or it will be up to our brothers and sisters in Osdal to take up our gauntlet,” Harper said, holding Moretti’s eyes.

Moretti couldn’t stop the shock registering on his face.

He had never thought that Harper might name those that were pulling his strings and the real backers of Harmony.

“They believe as we do?” Moretti said, his voice low.

“Yes, they are the originators of Harmony, though they are far from the only system. Fear not; even if we die here, Harmony’s systems will rise up and strike down the corrupt companies that call us workers in name but use our brothers and sisters as slaves.” Harper seemed to grow; Moretti didn’t think the message was just for him. No, Harper was saying those words to strengthen himself.

Moretti didn’t push to get more information, that would only have looked odd. Instead, he was supposed to be inspired and relieved that no matter if he died or not, they would win out.

Moretti stepped back. “For the sake of Harmony,” he said solemnly, swearing to himself that it was the last time he would fake the salute. Dan Moretti would not be claimed by this planet. No, he would be the thread that unraveled Harmony.

“For the sake of Harmony,” Harper said, repeating the solemn salute.

Without another word, Moretti turned and started to leave the room. As he did, he saw an enforcer runner coming in.

“Get word to my Chosen: they are to meet me at the research and development area on the ninetieth floor in three hours,” Moretti said.

“Sir,” the runner said, turning back around and running ahead of Moretti.

Holm and Sasaki were in front and behind him.

“Go, bring the fight to the troopers and show them the abilities of Harmony!” Moretti yelled to the Chosen around the command center.

Cheers rose from people as they rushed off to get into the fight.

Moretti felt bad. More troopers would die, but the crucial part of his plan was even more critical.

***

Tyler, Obe, and Ali removed the grate from the air vents. They sat back, watching the vent, and staying out of sight.

Tyler checked the time; the resistance was supposed to be there already. But he was used to timings getting fucked up.

Finally, Jolie’s head appeared.

“Holy fuck!” she said, turning back.

“Jolie, is that any way to greet a friend?” Tyler asked, grinning. Then he sobered up; they had a job to do. “Need those grenades.”

There were a few tense seconds and then Jolie’s head came back out, looking at Tyler, Obe, and Ali.

“How the hell have you got light on in here?” she asked, not getting out of the vent.

“Well, we did engineer this attack, so we took precautions to make sure we didn’t fuck ourselves over. You got those grenades?” Tyler asked.

She seemed to weigh something in her mind.

She sighed and got out of the vent, a bag in her hand. Tyler looked inside and grinned; there were tubes about the size of a water bottle with string out the bottom of them.

Tyler grinned, and then turned and started walking away from the vent. “Bring all of them, we’re going to need them,” he said, walking out from under the catwalks, through the machinery, into the open area where the powered armor and the rest of the troopers waited.

The adjustments had been made. A few people were sleeping; others were playing games, and more stood on watch.

Tyler looked back to see Jolie and fifteen resistance fighters look around the area in confusion. Nearly all of their eyes fell on the powered armor and the troopers no longer wearing their dusters but bearing armored plates and weapons.

It made them look less like bully boys and more like the professionals they were.

“Ali, show them the armory, let them take whatever they want. Obe, watch the vent, just in case,” Tyler said.

“Got it, boss. You two, hand those bags off and follow me,” Ali said, pointing at two stronger-looking lads and heading for the armories in the walls.

Obe simply nodded and jumped up on some kind of conveyor belt, holding his rifle.

Tyler continued on, the resistance fighters, nothing more than children and teenagers that were able to fit into the city’s vents, looking around in awe.

He glanced back as they exited the catwalks that looked over the testing area and the powered armor cradles.

“Holy shit, how?” Jolie asked, pausing. Everyone stopped with her, looking at the powered armor and the troopers wearing enforcer clothes and armor.

Tyler could see her mental gears turning and her eyes go wide.

Tyler watched, wondering if she would reach the right conclusion or jump to the wrong one.

“You lied to us!” Jolie said, and weapons appeared in a flash.

“Tell them they better put those away,” Mark said, leaning off of the catwalk and looking menacing as ever. Jerome cleaned his nails with the daggers Tyler and Mark had given him.

“Get down here and show them your tats,” Tyler said, looking to Mark.

Mark clearly didn’t think it was a good idea, but Tyler’s head-twitch and flick of his eyes apparently convinced him.

He didn’t take the stairs. instead jumping off from the second floor. Lower gravity meant he landed softly. Jerome followed.

Tyler saw the other troopers looked like they didn’t care about the exchange, but the distance between their hands and weapons reduced and their eyes glanced over casually.

Mark pulled down his shirt, revealing the EMF tattoo with a split red line, to show that he had gone into combat under a No Reinforcement order, and then displayed the one showing M&T over a V.

Jerome showed his as well and started cleaning the nails on his other hand.

“Okay,” Jolie said, lowering her pistol.

“Fuck, that’s nasty in there,” one of the two boys sent to grab ammo and weapons said, as they and Ali walked back to the group.

“Hmm?” Jolie asked.

“They killed all of the tech people, including Stan. The lunchroom is nasty as hell,” the boy continued, looking pale.

That seemed to seal the deal, and the others lowered their pistols.

The doors to the research and development area opened, Holm and Sasaki returning with Moretti.

The pistols came up once again.

“The fuck are you working with that piece of shit for?” Jolie said.

Moretti’s head swiveled over and locked on Jolie. He walked towards them, and Holm and Sasaki adjusted, following.

“I’ll let him explain,” Tyler sighed.

Jolie and the others held their fire as Moretti approached.

“Hello, Jolie, how’s the leg treating you? It’s been some time since I sent you the message and medical supplies,” Moretti said, stopping.

Jolie’s eyes went wide and her face drained of blood.

“No fucking way.” Her shock turned to anger. “You couldn’t be…”

“The Hand? Oh, well, I most definitely can. Why do you think you got warning about the latest raids, and people sent to you that were good with fighting but pissed at Harmony? I’ve kept far away from you lot. You’re passionate but not exactly the best at controlling yourselves. Look at what Dasan did,” Moretti said.

“I guess that kind of makes sense,” Jolie lowered her gun for the second time.

“Now let’s get to using my Chosen to blow these fuckers up. Those grenades good to go?” Moretti asked, looking to the bags.

“Yeah,” Jolie said hesitantly.

“Then let’s get this show on the road. Got three hours before the dumb fuckers show up, four before we’re deployed, unless Harper sends us word before. If we get it before then, the troopers are being stopped or advancing too fast. Either way, the Chosen will be piled up trying to get to the front lines. I just hope we have enough ammunition to get through the lines,” Moretti said.

“We’ll make it,” Tyler said.

Moretti gave him a small smile.

“I wish I had your optimism, Tyler. I’ve seen too much shit down here to be overly optimistic,” Moretti said.

Tyler saw the shadows move behind the other man’s eyes.

“Alright, I’m going to get something to eat. If you have any questions about Hand things, ask me. Pretty proud of you lot. Had to deal with a lot of shit, but you came out of it stronger than ever before. After all of this, contact me,” Moretti said, looking to all the resistance fighters. They didn’t all look convinced, but it mattered little if the plan worked out.

Moretti smiled; it was a sad thing.

Tyler thought he understood it. Moretti had played the devil in order to get where he was. He’d played the position well, and even those that he had directly helped couldn’t see him as their greatest aid when they’d only seen him as their second greatest enemy.

Moretti wandered off to the ongoing euchre game.

Holm and Sasaki walked off to get out of their powered armor.

“We’ll have all of our spare grenades to you as soon as possible,” Jolie said, looking confused by everything that had gone on.

“Thanks, we’ll be here. And take whatever you want from the stores; some of the grenades should work here, to make up for yours. We just need something that they won’t think of as grenades and will work no matter what,” Tyler said.

“Weird to think that for once we might have better weapons, with our low-tech options, than the Chosen,” Jolie said.

“They’re going to have to get used to nasty surprises,” Jerome said, finishing his nails and holding his right hand up, the blade slipping down to the holster around his triceps.

Mark let out a humorless laugh as Tyler smiled.

Not long now, Tyler thought, feeling the need to be in the middle of the fighting instead of sitting back on the sidelines.

It was hard not knowing how Alexis was doing. His smile fell away as he started to wonder if she was even alive. It tore at his soul, but he pushed that pain and those doubts away.

Soon his brothers and sisters would need him, and this time he couldn’t run off and leave them to fend for themselves.

Alexis wouldn’t want that, no matter his reasoning, and he would hate himself for it.

***

Alexis was following behind another platoon. They were spread out through the universal housing quarters, clearing rooms and pushing up into the center of the level.

The lead trooper opened a door and the second walked through. It was fluid and precise. The second trooper even got off a few rounds before the Chosen machine gun opened up. The lead trooper, the one through the door, and the one right behind them were all hammered with rounds; they didn’t even scream out as they dropped to the floor.

Alexis didn’t need to check her HUD to know that they were dead.

As they dropped, the troopers jumped into motion; those stacked up and ready to breach the door jumped for the nearest cover.

Someone threw a sensor through the doorway and red markers opened up. They were at the bottom of a T-intersection, the single path leading right to two dug-in machine guns.

“Pull back!” the commanding officer said. Troopers moved out of the housing unit as holes were ripped through the walls, furniture, and any troopers unlucky enough to be in the weapons’ path.

Pedro was hit in the leg, and he went scrambling. The rolling pick-up Mark and Tyler used had passed on like wildfire. A trooper behind him grabbed the good leg, rolled, and pushed on for the doorway.

With a glance, Alexis saw that Pedro’s leg was gone. The Chosen machine guns fired rounds as powerful as the anti-material rifles’.

Others were cut down. They needed to throw the Chosen off balance or else they might overrun the troopers’ lines.

“Follow me!” Alexis said, heading down the corridor they’d emerged into.

Her section followed as she kicked open a door to a room that had been cleared. She moved in, her weapon up and ready, not willing to trust that the room was still clear.

There were no signs of life.

She fired her grenade launcher. The main wall in the living room disappeared. Dust and crap filled the air.

Alexis moved for the new exit, and her section followed, coming out at the top right of a T-intersection.

She checked her HUD, seeing that there were machine guns along every corridor leading to the center of the level.

“Stack up,” she said, checking her map and heading away from the gun, coming to a stop outside a door opposite the housing unit they’d just blown through.

She opened the doorway and tossed a sensor stick as hard as possible.

Nothing happened. No machine guns opened up, and no new contacts showed up on her HUD.

“Follow me,” she said, heading into the doorway. Beyond it, a long corridor stretched down the length of the twelve housing units. The companies were nothing if not economical. All of their towers, with their offices, cafeterias, lifts, and housing units, were laid out the same.

The corridor branched off every fifty meters or so, leads and pipes connecting into the housing units. Alexis was in the maintenance corridor between housing units.

Her section moved forward, the platoon they’d been following now split up behind her and moving for the same maintenance corridor on the housing unit on the left side of the T-intersection.

They didn’t talk, focused entirely on their goal as they reached the end of the corridor and the door that led out of the maintenance area.

“Ready?” she asked. Green lights made rows on the top of her HUD.

She took a breath, then kicked the door open and went right. Chosen looked at the door, their interest turned to shock as Alexis sent bursts into the group of three.

She felt someone slam on her armor to tell her they were ready and good to go.

“Advancing right!” Alexis said. She heard weapons fire behind her, but trusted those troopers to deal with that threat as she advanced down the corridor.

A bank of housing units lay to her left, creating a wall; the housing units she’d run through to her right.

She saw movement thirty meters ahead, where the corridor ran between the housing units to her right.

A Chosen moved out; Alexis and a trooper behind her opened up. Alexis fired rounds, while her second threw grenades.

They never stopped moving, absorbing the Chosen’s shots and advancing.

Wild firing came from the corridor. They were now behind the machine gun positions. The guns that had dealt out terrible damage couldn’t be rotated to fire on the troopers to their rear and sides.

“Keep the grenades up, hopefully we’ll catch something,” Alexis said.

Fires burned to give the Chosen light, and worked to mess with the helmets’ feeds.

The grenades hit something useful; Alexis halted as the corridor shook with more than just the grenades’ impact.

The corner of the housing unit closest to the corridor was now gone, and the housing unit opposite was a shrapnel-peppered mess.

She moved up. There were few survivors; it looked like the grenade had landed on an ammunition crate. The rest was history.

Alexis changed to semi-auto, tombstone tapping the Chosen she could see.

New contacts filled her HUD as Chosen rushed in from lower levels and from the center of their current level.

They were a few hundred meters off to the left, but Alexis’ HUD did nothing but add more numbers.

“Pull back!” she said, raising her rifle and emptying her grenade clip into their front.

Her section listened and pulled back.

“Set!” Wiz said.

She ran, sticking to the wall to keep out of Wiz’s line of fire. He fired past her. Her grenades seemed to incite the Chosen; they were full-out charging as Wiz fired his repulsor into their midst.

Alexis was back in the corridor, passing another trooper.

They covered Wiz as the man ran back; he stumbled, screaming in pain.

Alexis dragged him in with the other trooper’s help.

“Grab his gun, I’ve got him,” Alexis said to the other trooper.

“Yeah,” the trooper said, scared but pulling the ammunition pack and repulsor from Wiz.

They turned back to the corner and fired. A sea of red contacts showed on Alexis HUD. The troopers had hit hard and fast throwing the Chosen off balance, giving the troopers the time they needed to pull themselves together.

Alexis hauled the grunting Wiz onto her back and ran.

The covering trooper wasn’t far behind, with her own section—and the rest of the platoon she’d been following—running down the maintenance corridor.

Alexis ran, one hand holding Wiz to her, the other on her rifle.

Wiz did his best to hold on.

Rounds pinged off of the walls and their armor. The trooper behind dropped to a knee and fired back, his onslaught buying them time.

They fired for a few more seconds before rushing after Alexis, who hadn’t stopped.

She got out of the maintenance corridor.

Rounds fired behind her. A yellow dot turned black as the trooper that had covered her and Wiz came sliding out of the maintenance area.

The troopers holding this position fired down the corridor. Others grabbed the trooper’s body and Wiz’s ammunition pack and repulsor.

Alexis cleared the housing unit she’d put a hole in and got Wiz to the medics.

The trooper whose name she hadn’t even known, and who had died giving her cover, was pulled into the hall, his weapons and ammunition stripped.

Alexis was going to make sure his sacrifice hadn’t been in vain.

She turned away looking at her HUD, something seemed to have kicked the Chosen into high gear and they were rushing up through Landing City’s towers.

“Pull back if you need to and take defensive positions,” Nerva said over the channel reserved for section leaders and the higher-ups. “We need to defeat the Chosen here.”

Chapter 44

Tower

Earth, Sol System

6/3242

Nivad watched the feeds on his walls carefully.

His people were making sure to edit out everything about the machine guns and other weapons that the Chosen were using. He didn’t want the people in Osdal using the feed to see what was going on. With the EMP, there weren’t any signals coming from Landing City. All of the receivers and communications equipment had been destroyed by the EMP blast.

While the troopers were learning to deal with the obstacles, the Chosen were also altering their methods. That was progress and knowledge Nivad didn’t want Osdal understanding.

Nivad wanted them to make the same costly mistakes the Chosen were making when the EMF reached them.

He checked the unaltered reports, looking for information on the powered armor. It hadn’t been deployed, and Nivad didn’t know if it was being controlled by friendly or Harmony forces.

They hadn’t told him their plans; nothing was truly secure, and Nivad understood the need to keep some things close to their chests.

The waiting was something else.

Nivad absently smoked, feeling the stims bring life back to his body. He hadn’t left his office since the bombardment had started. No one that was connected to Masoul in any way, or was head of any other system, dared to leave.

Dalia walked into his office. Nivad took a harder drag from his cigarette, sensing something wrong as she stopped in front of his desk, and he put his cigarette in an ashtray and pressed a button that created a noise-cancelling field and jammer.

White noise filled the room before he waved for her to go on as he exhaled smoke.

“We’ve got our first indications of Harmony in Osdal,” she said.

He nodded for her to proceed.

“The head of Osdal information took the feeds and set their people to searching for users that were sharing their feeds out and people that were looking at specific exchanges where the heavy weapons are being used. We got seventeen hits. I had Osdal check it against Earth’s viewership; there was a clear difference in viewing by the seventeen feeds,” she said.

“Good. Now check it against every other system,” Nivad said.

He saw the flash of confusion on her face.

“Yes, Nivad,” she said, drawing out his name, turning it into a question.

“I have a hunch,” he said, more than what he would have told others. He would’ve turned them into a cowering wreck for questioning his orders. Dalia had been with him since the beginning; she got a few perks.

“I will put the teams onto it. Discreetly,” she said, the two of them locking eyes in understanding.

“Very well. And we should cut back on having the heavy weapons even hinted at in feeds. In a few hours, I will want a large hint of the heavy weapons. We can use that as definitive proof of those interested in the capabilities of their weapon systems,” Nivad said.

“It will be done,” she said, making a note on her surface and heading for the door. Nivad turned off the jammer and noise-cancelling field as she opened and closed the door behind her.

Soon they will have enough rope to hang themselves, as the saying goes. Nivad pulled out another cigarette and lit it. Not even a hint of a smile touched his lips as his gut told him things were going to get worse.

Chapter 45

Landing City

Masoul Actual, Masoul System

6/3242

Moretti saw his Chosen move out of the way of their leaders. They walked to where Moretti stood before the armored doors leading to the research and development area.

Jerome and Dooks stood outside the doors in regular powered armor, looking like they were just waiting to get into the fight.

“For the sake of Harmony,” said Jaka, Moretti’s second in command, and leader of the Chosen when he was dealing with other matters.

The others joined and Moretti repeated those hated words.

“What are your orders?” Jaka asked, the others standing back in respect.

“We shall bring the war to the troopers and we will destroy our enemies,” Moretti said, his excitement at being so close to finishing his mission rushing through his veins.

Jaka saw it, as a cold grin spread across his scarred and hardened features.

“I was able to get presents from the research and development people,” Moretti said, waving to the tubes that lay on the ground behind him.

“What are they?” Jaka asked, picking one up and touching the cord.

“Don’t pull that just yet,” Moretti said, resting a hand on the other man’s where he touched the cord. “These are flares. Use them to get your people to rally to you before you go into battle. They will also work to mess up the troopers’ helmets, they won’t be able to see. When you get to the front lines, use them. Blind the enemy and bring Harmony its victory,” Moretti said. “I will be following your charge with the powered armor. We will hit the enemy with a wave of confusion and terror,” Moretti promised the man.

“Understood,” Jaka said, tucking the flare away.

“I want every leader to carry one. Spread the extras out to those that are good at following orders. Having them all detonate at the same time will only serve to intensify the dazzling effect on the enemy,” Moretti said, raising his voice so the other leaders knew he was addressing them, and waving to the tubes. Moretti looked to Jaka’s eyes. “Remember, do not use them before you join up with the other Chosen.”

“Make sure everyone has a watch that works, and start off the attack as one,” Moretti pressed. He needed to know that they would all use their flares in one round; it would make things easier.

“I will see to it,” Jaka promised. “For the sake of Harmony.”

“For the sake of Harmony and for victory,” Moretti responded, getting hollers and cheers from his Chosen.

Leaders for two hundred thousand men grabbed flares, spreading them to one in every fifty.

They were treated with care and honor at being given such a responsibility.

“Lead them well, Jaka,” Moretti said, taking a page out of Harper’s book and resting his hand on Jaka’s shoulder, and looking him in the eye to once again impress upon him the importance of his given task.

“We will not fail, Moretti,” Jaka promised.

“I will be right behind you. It is time that I got in my armor,” Moretti said.

***

The grenades had been passed out, the resistance had drained the armories, and all of the powered armor was up and running. Two extra battery packs rested under newer, thicker armor.

They looked like a metalworking project, all welds and rough edges. Metal showed where it had been cut by a plasma cutter, and new scratches marred their open shells.

“It’s time,” Haas said. Jolie had stuck around, coordinating the distribution of supplies and turning the research and development area into a resistance base. The empty armory holding the unused powered armor was locked and secured.

“Should get these things air fresheners or something. I come out smelling like sweaty balls and ass,” Dashtund complained.

“What else is different?” Mark said, smiling to Dashtund.

“Fuck, sometimes I forget you have a sense of humor in there,” Dashtund said.

Jerome felt himself relax with the banter.

“I need to find a new job, like a mess chief,” Sasaki complained.

“First, it’s mess chef, and why the fuck would you wanna do that?” Dashtund asked.

“Food whenever I want it, no sense of adventure, and I only have to see your face three times a day,” she said, sticking her tongue out.

“You realize you’d have to eat your own food, right?” Obe said.

“Yeah, and?” Sasaki asked, sensing a trap but not sure where it was coming from.

“Fuck, at least she can have a straight face—well, right before she actually tries it,” Ali said, his serious nod turning into a growing smile. He checked his extra armor plates by hitting on them.

“Dick,” she said, shaking her head and smiling as she interacted with her powered armor’s console.

“Hell, might get us a few days off with food poisoning,” Tal threw in, checking his armor.

“Ugh, as much as you’re a nice dude, Tal, your farts could fucking kill cockroaches,” Ko said matter-of-factly. Jerome couldn’t stop himself from laughing.

“Yeah, no way I’m spending two days in a toilet with you fuckers,” Dominguez agreed with her best friend’s opinion.

“How in the hell did I get stuck with these jackasses?” Haas looked to the ceiling.

Everyone finished up their own checks, grins on their faces and feeling better than they had in weeks.

They were nervous and scared for what might come, but they were together and ready for it. They were closer than ever, and with their powered armor, whoever would dare go up against them had a lot less than two brain cells, and they weren’t rubbing together.

Jerome stepped back into the armor, pushing his boots into their locks. He stretched out, his hands grabbing the actuators that moved his external hands. He sent a command from his implants.

The armor responded, closing around him and locking itself up.

He saw his diagnostics running through his implants.

“You guys are fucking weird,” Moretti said, where he was getting in his armor.

They all laughed and grinned. Their brother- and sisterhood wasn’t open to just anyone. They’d all paid a steep price for their membership.

Everything booted up, and the powered armor confirmed a good connection to Jerome’s implants.

He disengaged the cradle; plugs and tubes pulled out and he stepped free, sealing all of his ports.

“Hey, Dooks,” Jerome said, turning so his back was towards the other man that was walking out of his cradle.

Dooks looked him over, making sure he was all sealed up.

“Looking good, sarge,” Dooks said. Jerome turned around, facing the man.

“Turn around, yah big bastard,” Jerome said.

Dooks did so, Jerome eyeballing his powered armor and pressing a panel that looked open but was indeed closed.

“Good to go,” Jerome said, tapping the man’s shoulder lightly.

Unless in combat, it was better to hit with as little force as possible.

Others were doing buddy checks as well, making sure everything was good.

Jolie was looking at them all, her pistol still out and ready, looking anxious as hell.

The other resistance people milling around all watched them with interest.

“Time to get our guns,” Jerome said, moving to his enlarged and modified ammunition pack.

Dooks got him lined up and latched the main pack into place. It was twice the size of the normal repulsor pack.

He also got the smaller packs attached to Jerome’s legs; they had been armored and connected into the secondary feeder lines on the main ammunition pack.

Jerome tucked the feeder belt into the belt on his front and helped Dooks get his ammunition packs on.

Grunts, muttering, and the mechanical whir of servos punctuated the troopers’ work.

Everyone was ammoed up and checked over in ten minutes.

They grabbed repulsors, checking them with drills done so often they were instinctual. Feeding belts were checked and slotted into position. Repulsors were cocked and belts clicked as rounds were moved.

Jerome moved through his section. There had been eleven, including him, when they had entered Masoul System. Now there were just five. All of the sections were like that, but he was focused on checking their gear himself. He turned to face Haas and Zukic, who were standing near the armored door that led into Landing City. The other sections were checked by their leaders and moved closer to their officer and warrant.

Haas waited until they were all there, before looking at them all. Jerome stood straighter, seeing the pride in Haas’ eyes.

“Already we have carried out a mission the likes of which the EMF has not undertaken in its history. Each and every person here has done their duty and more. I am proud to stand among men and women such as yourselves,” Haas paused, looking at them all. They smiled, and a mix of feelings welled up in Jerome.

“Today marks the end of our mission. Our fellow troopers need us, and the Triple-Twos aren’t going to let them down,” he said, his solemn face splitting into a grin.

He looked to Moretti. “And just for today, I’ll say that you’re a Triple-Two with us.”

Troopers patted the man’s back as he blushed.

He might have still been a spy, and he would have cursed them all out for doing the same act some thirty years ago, but they were the only people with whom he felt he could be himself.

Jerome saw how much that meant to the man as he went red with embarrassment and also happiness. The man might not have been part of any group before, but here he had made friends with those that would lay down their lives for their comrades.

Nothing quite like that, Jerome thought with a smile, looking at his platoon, his family.

“Alright, Triple-Twos, let’s go and fuck up Harmony’s day,” Haas said. His helmet dropped forward with the sharp noise of metal striking metal. The rest of the platoon did the same.

The research and development area was replaced with darkness, the sounds of bolts locking, and then his HUD coming up.

Jerome’s implants laid over the most important information, while the powered armor’s HUD displayed the outside world.

It didn’t even seem that Jerome was wearing a helmet, other than his inability to move his neck sideways more than a few degrees.

Haas moved out first, Jerome to his right and Tyler to his left, their section trailing behind with Mark tagging behind Jerome and Holm behind Tyler. Yu, Young, and Bobbie were in Tyler, Jerome, and Holm’s sections, respectively. Zukic was to the rear with Moretti.

“Shut the door behind us, will you, Jolie?” Tyler said as they got into motion.

Haas opened the door and led them out into Landing City. Jerome’s filters altered and the world changed from full color to greenish tints.

It was a bit annoying, but he could still see better than any Chosen on Masoul.

Haas led, the powered armor racing over the ground even at their lowest power setting. Jerome couldn’t even feel the weight on his powered armor’s back.

He focused on looking at his HUD, checking the mini-map as they linked up with the sensor grids that the resistance had distributed across Landing City.

The seventy-ninth floor was a mass of engagements, the Chosen pushing up over their fallen and overtaking the troopers that had been thrown on the defensive.

“Blades,” Haas called.

Jerome pulled the blade from his side.

They passed a small group of Chosen with no one around. The platoon opened their ranks, blades catching the fire’s light.

The passing powered armor reached out, their blades passing through the Chosen, the servo motors barely registering resistance.

The platoon ran on, ten bodies looking around with shock still on their faces.

***

Jaka had followed Moretti faithfully for the majority of his adulthood. Moretti had taken him under his wing when he had been nothing but an angry child without a family.

Moretti had turned him into a Chosen, he had shown him the path of Harmony. Jaka had gained power and the respect of others.

Harmony was good and right; they had looked to bring Jaka to this stage.

He looked to his watch. Moretti’s Chosen had become washed up in the charges heading up towards the troopers.

The resistance had ambushed groups with Harmony’s own heavy weapons. They’d also gotten their hands on EMF weaponry and grenades.

They struck from maintenance hatches and vents, hitting the Chosen and running away before the Chosen had time to hit back.

They were infuriating, but nothing other than an itch compared to the troopers that were working through Landing City. With the access areas that connected the underground tunnels gone, central tower had the most Chosen at around half a million.

They needed to win here and press on to the other towers.

Jaka hoped that Moretti and the research people could get more devices like the ones Moretti had given him and his forces. They could turn the tide of the battle.

He had finally reached the forward areas of the battle, but he stayed back, checking his working watch and pulling free Moretti’s gift.

There were about fifteen minutes to go. He glanced around the corner; they were on a housing floor.

The housing units had been destroyed; holes from rounds and explosives showed the troopers just hundreds of meters away.

Forces were fighting in scrums here and there where Chosen had found a way to reach the troopers.

The troopers hid behind cover made from gray material. It stopped all but the heavy machine guns’ rounds.

The noise was deafening as hundreds of weapons traded tracers.

The floor was slick with blood; the smell of copper and death filled Jaka’s nose.

Bodies lay all over the floor, stacked three and four high in areas.

Jaka had seen terrible things; he’d taken more than one person to the educators. The cold and callous nature of the educators was understandable. The troopers fought with determination; they had fire to them.

A group of Chosen advancing past Jaka were struck by a grenade launcher.

No one else seemed to even realize they’d died. Each person was fighting their own fight.

Jaka felt explosions in the floor; he looked to his timer as it reached zero.

He raised the flare above his head and roared defiance at the troopers.

They would win, and he would remember the Chosen that had been ripped apart by the troopers’ weapons.

He grabbed the pull string at the bottom of the flare and pulled.

“For the sake of Harmony!” he bellowed.

Jaka had no time to realize that he wasn’t holding a flare or some device that might mess up the troopers’ helmets. He was holding a grenade above his head. He and four thousand others had been given flares. Some didn’t work, others had been lost, others had pulled their strings early or late.

One minute the Chosen were pushing forward, their leaders getting them moving and yelling encouragement. They knew that they would win with the new inventions.

Then explosions ripped through the ranks, cutting out the majority of that leadership. Thousands died or were maimed as shock spread through the ranks of Harmony fighters.

***

“That’s the signal,” Haas said.

Mark put his blade away. They’d killed fifty or so Chosen on their way to the front lines. Now the time for discretion was gone. He and the other troopers grabbed tape from the front of their chest plates, revealing their names or nicknames. Another strip of tape came off their shoulders, showing the insignia of troopers, their units and rank.

They ran up the last flight of stairs, and then they were among the rear guard of Chosen.

Haas backhanded a Chosen that got too close. The Chosen died with the scream still in their throat, the powered armor hand taking off their head.

Haas moved out into a large lobby that held lifts. Tyler moved out to the left, Jerome to the right, pushing out from the center of the Chosen lines.

Mark and his section moved to Jerome’s side, and Holm did the same with Tyler’s. They just didn’t have the people to have a section on either side. With two of them together, they still didn’t make up a full section.

Though now they had more firepower than two platoons.

Mark didn’t hesitate as his implants worked with his powered armor, identifying Chosen with red halos.

They were still confused as the lines opened up and the powered armor moved forward.

“Fire teams!” Haas said. It was clear that being in a line limited the powered armor’s abilities.

Mark moved, Dashtund following. Ko, Niemi, and Dominguez rushed off in another direction.

Mark saw Chosen in a housing unit. He didn’t slow his momentum, crashing through the wall and firing at the targets obscured by the wall and dust that was still coming off of his armor.

Dashtund jumped through the doorway and fired at the Chosen in the corridor. Mark followed and they advanced.

The platoon had broken down into two- or three-person fire teams. The idea was to move and hit the most Chosen in a limited time.

If there was a big target, they moved back together and hit it with everything.

Chosen were everywhere; thankfully the sensor network was still working, and their implants tied them to the troopers that were recovering from the shock of seeing their enemy explode across their line of advance.

Mark was moving behind Dashtund when he saw a group of Chosen were reloading a heavy machine gun and wheeling the thing in a cart towards the front lines.

They stopped. Mark fired and jumped at them. Some scrambled behind the corner, while the others died under the repulsors’ tracers.

Mark ran through the corner, catching a Chosen in the head with his knee. His left fist pulped another’s chest, and his right elbow shattered a third’s chest.

Rounds pinged off his armor. He jumped, turning in the air, and fired at the remaining two. They went down.

Dashtund moved up, covering down the corridor they had been advancing up as Mark got to his feet and cut down three runners in the corridor the heavy gun had come from.

“Cover,” Mark said, moving to the heavy machine gun. He grabbed the barrel and bent it into uselessness.

Mark checked the corridor and saw the rest of his section come barreling out of a section of wall.

Ko gave him a wave as they went right through another wall.

Mark turned back to Dashtund.

“These fuckers are about as dumb as a fucking brick,” Dashtund said.

Mark moved around Dashtund, his repulsor firing; he didn’t even feel the recoil as his and Dashtund’s lines of tracers moved from side to side, cutting down what had to be the beginning of the Chosen build-up to the front lines.

Chosen were running at the incoming fire, getting themselves cut down.

“Well hopefully they won’t get any fucking smarter. Moving,” Mark said. Two powerful steps put him fifteen meters up, his weapon firing the whole time.

“Don’t leave me behind.” Dashtund took an open door off its hinges as he misjudged his step and took out a housing unit’s wall. “Fucking—it was like that when I got here!” Dashtund said, firing on the Chosen, a few rounds sparking off his armor.

Mark laughed in his armor.

They got to the corner, and Mark used his repulsor as a deadly bat, crushing anything that it hit.

Dashtund fired and moved forward. Rounds fell from his gun as he toggled the trigger, focusing on groups that looked to be putting up a fight.

Mark cleared his area and added his own fire to the mix.

Anything within ten feet of him didn’t look human by the time they hit the ground.

Blood and gore now rested on the powered armor.

Chosen looked at the powered armor in confusion; many remembered them being beside Harper, their broadcasts showing them as the powerful rearguard, the tool that would lead to taking down even Earth’s Military Forces.

It led to hesitation. Ask any veteran trooper: inaction was worse than nearly any action at all.

Dashtund and Mark moved up, their armored boots not finding the floor once as they advanced through the Chosen pocket, their repulsor barrels cherry red and smoking hot as they moved on.

“Front lines aren’t too far now,” Mark said, looking to his HUD. None of the platoon had gone down, though Tal was showing mechanical issues. He was with Haas, Zukic, and Moretti. Their job was to get Moretti to safety; he was more valuable than all of them. He knew Harmony.

“No mercy!’ Haas yelled.

“We are troopers!” the rest of the platoon responded.

“We need a new fucking reply, sounds corny as fuck!” Dashtund said, even as he and Mark fired into the newest group of Chosen they’d found.

“I’m willing to hear suggestions,” Mark said.

“Come on, you fuckers!” Dashtund said, clipping a few that tossed useless grenades at him.

“That’s a good one,” Mark said, the hallway clear as they moved on.

“Huh, guess it is. Got caught up in the moment.”

***

Fighting had been just meters apart, but then the lines had gone up with grenades.

Alexis didn’t question it, she just added to the confusion. The troopers pushed the Chosen back, and holes opened in the Chosen’s lines as they were pushed out of the housing units that the troopers had occupied just hours before.

Positions were shored up, wounded were pulled to the rear, and barricades were given a liberal coating of spray-ite.

Ammunition flowed forward but the troopers didn’t advance; they didn’t want to overreach their positions and get hammered back into them. Their fire reduced as Chosen cleared from the easiest lines of fire.

More Chosen filled in from the rear, but it was a hard battle; the only way they got back to their positions was through piling their dead on one another.

Then weapons fire ripped through the Chosen from the sides.

Shooting an enemy straight on was good and all, but they could hide in depth and get nice positions to hit you. Fighting two forces to your front and side, you were leaving your sides exposed somehow.

For a few minutes, Alexis just thought that she was seeing things as lines of tracers ripped sideways instead of back and forth in front of her.

Then she caught a round in the knee. She screamed in pain and fell backwards.

“That’s my wife, you fuckers!” Tyler yelled.

She knew that voice anywhere.

“‘Bout fucking time! If you call this a fucking honeymoon, I’m going to kick your ass!” Alexis yelled, the pain and her relief making her not give a flying fuck about what channel she was on.

She pulled out sealant and sprayed her knee liberally, which was probably going to have to get replaced. She pushed herself out of cover again.

“What, don’t like old shit-tacular Masoul?” he asked on a different channel.

“Not without you. Fuck me, is that you in powered armor?” she said, watching a group of five heavily armored people that must have been powered or else they wouldn’t have been able to move that mass.

“Definitely a subject for later, and yup, hi honey!” he said, cheerful as ever.

powered armor opened up with their weapons, the whole group firing in concert. They advanced, streams of tracers suppressing the Chosen as they leapfrogged. It was a textbook maneuver as powered armor advanced, always firing, always pushing on.

The battle cleared away, troopers ceasing fire as the powered armor came into view.

Four sets of powered armor headed right up the corridor Alexis was in.

Tal, who Alexis only recognized because his name was written on his chest, grabbed her harness.

She felt herself being pulled up as if she was a child. Tal dropped her off with the medics. Nerva was there as well, his armor showing that he had just come back from the frontlines himself.

Haas walked up to Nerva and got talking. A medic came over to Alexis, checked her injuries, and applied painkillers.

“Get back to the aid station, they’ll cut out the crap and print it new,” the medic said, turning to deal with others coming into their care.

“All units, push forward. The Triple-Twos in their powered armor will act as support,” Nerva said to the section leaders and above within central tower.

Alexis got to her good leg and hopped out of the way. She saw the green markers of the powered armor moving from the Chosen lines, past the troopers that were now moving up to secure new ground and push their frontlines up.

The wall to her side fell apart, powered armor, a foot and a half taller than her, walking through it as easily as the door a few meters away.

SWAS was painted on its breastplate.

Its helmet opened, showing Tyler’s face. His concern was clear as he looked at her mangled knee, covered with white sealant, and all the blood on her clothes.

“I’m getting a leg redo,” Alexis said.

Pedro, who’d returned from medical only a few hours ago, walked through the door and looked at her.

“Get them moving up with the advance, I’ll be back as soon as can be. You’re section leader,” she said as officially as possible, looking at Pedro.

“On it, sarge,” Pedro said, nodding to her in understanding and giving Tyler a nod in greeting before leaving.

“I leave for a few months and you get that leg blown up,” Tyler growled, but his heart wasn’t in it.

He was now just feet from her.

“Take her up to the aid station, yah big mutt. I want you down here double-time, need you and that armor,” Haas said, hitting Tyler’s side, the metal making a dull thud.

“Yes, sir,” Tyler said, hooking his repulsor to his side and picking Alexis up.

She grabbed the back of his open helmet, and then pulled her own off. It was hard to see in the dark, only illuminated by the fires, tracers, and explosions that were now kicking off as the lead trooper units found bands of Chosen that had thought that they were the reserve but had quickly become the frontline.

She pulled herself up and kissed his lips. He was salty from sweat, but it filled her with new energy as tension released knowing that he was alive and safe.

***

“One package delivered. We’ve got a new mission,” Haas said. Mark jumped through a wall as he saw a large group of Chosen approach. The sensor net had been thoroughly fucked up with weapons fire, Moretti’s Chosen blowing themselves up, and the rampage of Triple-Twos behind the Chosen lines. “We’re to support the troopers to regain control of this floor,” Haas continued.

Rounds followed in, one cracking his left knee’s extra armor but not actually hitting the motor beneath.

“Motherfucker,” Mark growled.

“Mark?” Haas said.

“Enemy contact,” Mark quickly replied.

Troopers behind Mark opened up, and Mark used the covering fire to edge back out. He fired on the Chosen, but they were still far away and getting a heavy machine gun sorted out.

“Fucking dickheads!” Dashtund yelled.

“Through the housing units?” Mark asked.

“Sounds like a plan, boss, not your best, but fuck it’s fun running through walls,” Dashtund said. Mark and Dashtund were in opposite housing units and stepped back a few feet, aiming for the bathroom and sleeping areas.

“Looks like those old cartoons where they go flying through the wall with just their outline,” Dashtund continued.

Mark applied full power and pushed off with his right foot, the cermite flooring cracking from the pressure. He didn’t have time to care, as in two steps he barreled through a bathroom, water spewing all over the place. He then smashed through a bedroom, through a living room, and into another bedroom.

“Can you two hurry up? Trying to do a briefing here,” Haas sighed.

“Sorry, boss,” Mark said, smiling.

“Yeah, fucking right!” Haas said with a small laugh.

“Moving to assist, coming in from left side,” Dominguez said.

“Welcome to the party! I knew you couldn’t resist running through walls,” Dashtund joked.

“Keep talking and we’ll see just how many walls you can be thrown through,” Dominguez said.

Dashtund laughed, Dominguez letting out a snort.

Dashtund and Mark smashed through the last wall shoulder first and facing towards one another. Their guns were on an angle, pointing at the Chosen.

Mark and Dashtund fired; it was impossible to miss the Chosen milling around the three heavy machine guns.

Mark landed in a crouch. Neither he or Dashtund had given the Chosen time to react.

Dominguez showed up with Ko and Niemi.

“Down!” Ko barked.

Dashtund and Mark dropped without a second thought, and repulsor rounds went over them, hitting Chosen that had been moving to reinforce the group Mark and Dashtund had cut down.

The new group didn’t fare any better.

“Clear,” Dominguez said. Mark and Dashtund got up, covered in dust from running through so many walls.

Mark looked at the way he had come; he could see troopers jogging up through the holes he’d made.

“Finished yet?” Haas asked, sounding like a father that was just waiting for his child to wear themselves out.

“Looks like it,” Mark said. His section spread out, covering the hall. The troopers moved up at a run, a few of them giving them nods of thanks as they passed by.

“Alrighty, then! We’re on support for the troopers to clear the floor. Once that’s done, we’re tasked to secure Harper,” Haas said.

“What about the educators, who has them? Those fuckers can rally any group of Chosen,” Holm asked.

“Oh, there’s no need to worry about that, the resistance will deal with them.” Haas’ voice was cold, and even Mark felt a shiver go down his spine. He doubted the resistance’s treatment would be pleasant. Fighting your way out from under an abusive ruler did not usually leave you as a nice person.

Mark looked to his HUD, changing from a map of the nearby area to all of Landing City. Some towers were doing better, but many were doing worse. They needed to win here and move to support the other troopers.

Mark’s jaw tightened as he checked his ammunition count and moved to follow the troopers around him.

“Diablo, that you, Mark?” Captain Ortiz said, walking out from the ranks of troopers, two following him.

His helmet was open, internal lights illuminating his face.

The man was covered in the soot, dust, and shiny near-misses of those that had been at the front of the fighting. His left forearm looked thin and a new armor plating rested on it, evidence that it had been regrown.

“Yes, sir,” Mark said, turning to fully face the man.

“Good fucking work, you lot. Saved a lot of people.” Ortiz looked to them all, letting that sink in.

“Remind me to get you all a beer later. For now, I’m told that you’re our support?” Ortiz asked.

“Yes, sir, you engage them, we’ll hammer them,” Mark said, lifting his repulsor.

“Fucking-A.” Ortiz smiled. He looked tired, but there was a glint in his eyes. Mark knew to never underestimate his officers.

“Get a full ammo loadout, I want you in peak condition. How much running time do you have in those things?” he asked, getting professional again. One of the troopers must have talked to others coming by; a tech hauling a cart of ammunition stopped, another tech followed, and they pulled out ammunition boxes and started hooking them up to Mark and the rest of his section.

“Twenty-two hours,” Mark said. “We’re down to eighteen. The more we fight, the more power we burn through.”

“Okay, I’m going to use you in rotations, then. Organize into two groups; I’ll hold one in reserve and have the other hit any opposition we find, then rotate you around as soon as we’re clear of the Chosen,” Ortiz said, looking to Mark.

“Yes, sir, that should allow us all to be at roughly the same power levels. As soon as we’re done clearing this floor, we’re being tasked out,” Mark said.

Ortiz nodded. “Understood, Nerva already told me.”

More techs and their ammunition supplies fed into the three repulsor packs Mark and his section were wearing.

“You want some spray-ite on those cracks and dents?” one of the techs asked, pointing to Mark’s various scuffs and his cracked knee plate.

“Wanna coat the entire thing?” Mark asked.

The tech looked Mark and the others over.

“We’ll see what we can do,” the tech promised, heading to his supplies. He pulled out a large can of spray-ite and a metal plate.

***

Nerva winced as a trooper applied more sealant to his side. It was a nasty wound, and numbing agents were at work to reduce the pain.

He’d opted to forgo the painkillers to stay alert.

Major Duvall was in overall control. Loa was a blue dot on its way through Center City to the combat shuttles that were now punching through the angry Masoul Actual clouds for Fearless and Reclaimer.

Nerva scanned through his various views, NIDenise opening new screens for him as he thought of them. It was hard to oversee a battle even with the aid of an NIAI; without, it was easy to miss something.

All of the troopers were pushing hard.

Powered armor held back from the leading troopers’ lines and were using unconventional means to surprise the Chosen and put fire into their groupings.

Chosen, but they were bully boys, not professional soldiers. They couldn’t see, they hadn’t slept in at least a day, the air was getting thin, and most of the leadership had been ripped apart by the grenades along the Chosen frontlines.

The resistance fighters ambushed them and cut off supplies. More than one group of Chosen had fired on another thinking they were resistance fighters, or thinking that they were being fired on by them.

Communication was done by yelling, so few actually knew that the powered armor was fighting with the EMF.

A few even cheered as the powered armor came tumbling through walls or racing out of corridors to meet them.

Wherever the powered armor appeared, enemy dots started disappearing.

“Stairwell Echo cleared and secured, ready to move forces down to the next floor,” Captain Ortiz said in Nerva’s ear.

“Understood, move up. I’m pulling your troopers for their secondary mission,” Nerva warned.

A green light showed on Nerva’s HUD; Ortiz had already changed channels to talk to his people and pass on Nerva’s orders.

Other units continued to push across the level.

“Alright, so what can we expect Harper to do?” Nerva asked over his speakers, looking to the powered armor standing off to the side. A simple eye had been painted on its front.

Nerva had never met the man, or heard his name; none of that was sent in the communications.

Haas and the others vouched for the man, and he seemed to genuinely care for the troopers and combat shuttle crew that had worked with him for nearly a year.

Right now, Nerva wanted to know what way the leader of this enemy might jump and be ready to cut any initiative off at the knees.

“That is a good question. Harper is a good leader, good at getting people to do what he wants. Though I’ve thought for a long time that people were just using him as a puppet from somewhere. When I saw him in the command center six hours ago, he looked scared. He was a dog without a leash,” the man said before pausing to think.

“He will try to lead his people; he will order everyone to attack, might even use his remaining educators to motivate people. Though the one thing you can rely on is that Harper is a puppet; he isn’t any kind of tactical genius. That was why I was given command of the Gas Planet expedition. I knew how Shipping Station was laid out, and I got myself into the role of advisor for all things military. I’m no trooper. Harper will react like a man that’s in over his head, but will pass out orders rather than sit back,” the man finished.

“Would the ministry like him in custody, or do they want us to secure Masoul as fast as possible?” Nerva looked to the man.

He’d had Nivad Selvra’s ear for the last thirty years, something that Nerva didn’t think another person might have.

“Capture would be for the best. If that is not possible, killing him without hitting his chest would suffice. The information on his implants would be invaluable,” the man said.

“What would you advocate, smash and grab to get him, or keep grinding the enemy?” Nerva asked, looking right at the powered armor.

“Smash and grab. Harmony is leader-centric, at least here on Masoul. Harper is the spider at the center. Pull him, and people will start falling apart,” the man said.

“I’ll order the Triple-Twos to grab him if they can. Once they have him, we’re going to blow all access to the lower levels.” Nerva got to his feet, growling at the pain that still persisted. “I think it’s time I talked to the resistance; they’re going to need to pull their people back, and we need to use their tunnels to the other towers,” Nerva said. His protection detail and the man with an eye on his powered armor followed as he made his way to a corner housing unit where four resistance fighters were standing.

They didn’t look happy to be sitting there, but they perked up as Nerva got close.

Their eyes went wide seeing the damage to his side, but quickly moved to Nerva’s as he talked.

“I need a message sent to Madam Song. We’re going to try and grab Harper. No matter if we do or not, we’re going to blow the stairs and other accesses to the lower floors. My plan is to leave a group here to kill any Chosen that make it up. The rest are going to move to adjoining towers to assist our troopers there. I suggest that she pull back her forces as well. Also, we’re going to need guides to use your tunnels and come out into the fighting,” Nerva said.

“Daz, run to Madam and pass on the message. Tell her I will stay with the major,” one of the resistance members said, standing. Daz turned and ran through the housing unit, disappearing into one of the bedrooms.

“Roule and I will act as guides for now; more will come once word reaches Madam,” the leader said.

“What’s your name?” Nerva asked.

“Hock, sir,” the man said.

“Hock, I’m going to need to know where my troopers should go to get out of here and head towards towers”—Nerva checked his HUD for the worst fighting— “four, five, seven, nine, and fourteen.”

“Do you have a map? I just know the tunnels by memory, so it will be a little hard to put into words, but I can think of a few routes,” Hock said.

Chapter 46

Metal City

Osdal Actual, Osdal System

6/3242

Guy Castillo was still a large man from his time working across Metal City.

Anti-aging treatments kept him looking like a middle-aged man, when truly he was passing the century mark.

He was a well-known face with the population, the ‘people’s CEO.’ He had worked himself up to his position from the ground floor.

It had been hard work, but he’d done it.

Along every step of the way, he had been beset on all sides by CEOs that didn’t want him to climb up their ladder.

With Harmony, that had changed. Harmony had passed through the lower ranks of workers in Osdal. Castillo had been busted down to department manager again.

He had kept a smile on his face and looked after those around him, but in the quiet of his home, he’d cried, his dreams falling apart in his hands.

Then a messenger from Harmony had come to him. They had talked about the CEOs, the corruption that Castillo knew only too much about.

The messenger, Fah Tsiklauri and Castillo had become friends. Castillo listened to Tsik, scared that what he was proposing would constitute a religion and serve to destabilize the planet and the workforce.

He knew it was, but he didn’t want to admit it, as he and Tsik worked the lines together and talked. Talked in the way that few do outside of the nights they’ve stayed awake too long, had too many beers, and glanced up at the stars. Their thoughts of what lay outside them turning into thoughts of what lay inside.

Castillo wanted there to be a future for his three kids. Their mother had died in a work accident, the CEOs paying out a paltry fee and downgrading Castillo’s home, since he no longer warranted his larger housing unit as his financial income was reduced.

Then someone cooked up something to get Castillo struck down. He remembered when he’d stepped into the fifth-tier chief of operations’ office.

There had been a group of them there, all watching and laughing at his attempts to bargain with them. They paraded the evidence against him, knowing it was all faked and that all he could do was accept his charges.

They didn’t let him out of the office for two hours, laughing at his misery.

Tsik had found him getting raging drunk. Tsik had made sure he was safe and carried him home.

Even drunk, Castillo remembered his question.

“So why do you follow Harmony? They’ll get you killed for being a religion,” Castillo had said. He’d never talked about it being a religion, but it was, it was a new faith-based system.

“Harmony isn’t a religion, it’s an idea. The idea that something can be better than this,” Tsik had said, and he believed it. That poor bastard believed it.

Castillo, imbued with that knowledge, had started asking more about Harmony. He had seen the misery the CEOs brought and he knew there couldn’t be anything worse.

Castillo had been brought into Harmony, and they’d smiled. They had been happy. They were doing something to change their lives for the better.

They had been careful, staying to the shadows and growing through Osdal’s structure.

They had never attacked the CEOs; they’d played their game of secrets, deals, and blackmail.

Castillo had risen to the position of a second-tier CEO; he helped to make people’s lives better, and it worked.

The CEOs grumbled and plotted, but it worked for the higher ones; the second tier and lower didn’t have voting rights, and didn’t matter.

Then Castillo had found out about Metal City’s CEO and the fund he had been keeping from the Osdal partnership. He hadn’t reported it like he would have before; instead, he passed the information to Tsik.

That was when he’d met Luke. Luke wasn’t like Tsik; his eyes didn’t glow with the possibilities that Harmony could bring to Osdal. His eyes smoldered with anger and rage.

Tsik was the billboard, and Luke was the fine print of Harmony.

Osdal was controlled by Harmony. The workers looked to Harmony, who quietly blackmailed CEOs using their funds to make the people’s lives better.

Harmony gangs had formed but kept to the shadows, and they enforced Harmony’s rules. They weren’t terrible people; they were looking out for one another. Another seventy years and two of Castillo’s kids were Chosen leaders, while the other stayed working. Of them all, Castillo was proudest of the one that still worked. She did her job, her kids staying away from the gangs and their grandfather.

Their uncle and aunt sat back, fed by the money of the CEOs. Their care had turned from looking out for the people to terrorizing them. No one was there to stop them, and boredom and the belief that they were right were powerful agents of change.

“Either you die young, or live long enough to become the thing you hate the most,” Castillo said, turning away from his office’s window.

Harmony had been gearing up for their war against the EMF. Now it looked like it had come to Masoul at last.

He glanced at the feeds playing across his office’s view screen and the one in his living room beyond it that the Harmony personnel were recording. Thousands of people were dying, and they sat there watching their enemy, trying to find weaknesses and seeing how their weapons worked.

They weren’t out there making people’s lives better; they were preparing for war.

Tsik had kept telling Castillo to be patient. Once the war was over, then the Chosen could lay down their weapons and once again help others through labor instead of bloodshed.

They might be laying down their lives if the EMF came; a bit of relaxation was good for them.

All of Tsik’s platitudes filled his mind and all of them fell flat.

The system wasn’t better; Castillo had been naïve. He saw the light dimming in Tsik’s eyes and knew of the flask he carried now. Castillo opened the collar of his suit and drank his beer.

Luke grabbed a beer from the office’s fridge, dragging a seat to the side so he could see the view screen in Castillo’s office.

“We’ve given up hope of getting anything from Harper,” Luke said, drinking from his beer. Castillo hid a wince. Harper had been a great guy; he was nice, happy, a dreamer, just like Tsik. Just like Tsik, he’d convinced others to join Harmony, and now Masoul Actual had two carriers of troopers crawling all over them.

“Looks like the resistance did a number on them. Haven’t seen anything on the videos about the heavy guns, grenades, or the powered armor.” Luke pursed his lips, not pleased.

“Isn’t that good? Doesn’t it mean Nivad is too scared to show their effectiveness?” Castillo said. Luke looked to Castillo in thought.

“I hope so, but from the videos, it looks like the trooper slaves are still advancing, especially with those grenades going off across the Chosen lines. I don’t know how those fucks did it, but it looks like Masoul will fall after all. If not for those grenades…” Luke looked back to the view screen, taking a drink.

Castillo followed his lead.

“What has the council said?” Castillo asked. He knew of the operations on Osdal, but the operations going on in the other systems were Luke and Tsik’s field. They were Harmony’s conduit of information to Osdal.

“They know that we can’t keep the lid on our actions much longer. We planned for this. The Chosen are ready to fight and eager to do so. Already, there have been incidents in other systems. It won’t be long until all of the systems are fighting against Earth Military Forces’ troopers.” Luke sounded almost excited.

Castillo wanted to curl up and hide from it all, but he’d never been able to back down from a fight. He would look to help the people of Osdal as much as possible. He would not shirk that duty, no matter what.

He took a long drag of his beer as troopers cut down more Chosen.

Chapter 47

Landing City

Masoul Actual, Masoul System

6/3242

Jerome tried to not think of the panicked screams of terror those cheers had turned to as repulsors and bandoleers of grenades were tossed into Chosen’s groups.

Tyler was ahead. Alexis was drugged up and back at an aid station.

“Contact!” Tyler said, firing a burst.

Off to Tyler’s left, Holm did the same, tracers crashing into the Chosen’s lines.

Jerome and Mark’s sections ran into the walls, quickly coming out behind the enforcers. They came out in their midst.

Arms that were capable of denting armor swiped fragile humans, sending them spinning or dropping them to the floor.

A repulsor fired here and there as Tyler, Holm, their sections, Haas, and Zukic rushed up on the scene.

“Move it!” Haas said. Jerome and Mark’s sections followed them, new blood spattering their armor.

Now was not the time to stand around.

Fire came from multiple corridors. Tyler and Holm’s sections slid to a stop, sparks coming from the floor as their metal suits skidded. They fired as Jerome and Mark ran past with their sections.

“Clear!” Kojo called out.

“Same,” Ko said.

Tyler and Holm’s section peeled away from their firefight and caught up with the rear of the platoon.

Only the subjectively low ceiling and the tight turns they needed to take kept the powered armor’s speed down.

They turned, and Jerome slid as his legs looked to get purchase. The rest of the platoon followed, skating more than running.

Only Bairamov went through the wall they were turning in front of.

He came back out in a spray of dust and plaster panels.

“Fucking detours,” he said.

“Cut the pace. Coming up on the command center,” Haas said.

The platoon slowed and crashed through a new office unit.

Their pace stopped as Zukic pulled a ring of murder hole charges from his shoulder. Each section had one person wearing them.

They linked them together and made a circle twenty feet wide.

“Sections one and three, take a knee; two and four, stand in behind, just like we talked about,” Haas said as Zukic checked the ring of explosives.

Jerome and Mark’s sections took a knee, forming a circle. Holm and Tyler stood behind them, creating an old-as-fuck-looking firing line.

I can’t believe people just walked into battle wearing a big fucking ‘shoot me’ jacket and fired at their opponents like it was some kind of goddamn lottery whether or not you survive.

Yu, Young, and Bobbie had stayed with them. Jerome glanced at their signs on his HUD. They could have left for the carriers and been hauling ammunition and wounded, no one would have said anything.

Instead, they had stayed down with the Triple-Twos. That took balls, really big fucking balls.

“Good,” Zukic said, nestling next to Jerome and holding his repulsor out.

“Let’s go ruin their fucking day, Zukic,” Haas said.

The murder hole charges went off, the floor shook, and then everyone dropped.

Jerome felt his stomach lurch for the few seconds they fell. Before they had hit the floor, people were firing.

Jerome saw Harper looking from his chair with wide, shocked eyes.

He jumped, Zukic following him.

Jerome’s hand grabbed Harper’s janitor coveralls. This time they were actually dirty, and his usually kempt hair was a mess.

Jerome didn’t fuck about; he broke the man’s hands and legs without hesitation. He looked up, the flashes of weapons fire disappearing as powered armor moved to secure the room.

Harper was crying and screaming in pain.

Fucking rough day, man.

“Fuck, dude,” Zukic said, his helmet tilting from Jerome to Harper.

“Can’t fucking run now,” Jerome said.

“No shit,” Zukic said, sighing, but Jerome sensed a laugh under it.

Repulsors fired, getting others in the room.

Others were opening their hands and putting data cards into computer slots.

“Five minutes!” Holm announced.

“Alright, section two, cover the entrance. Three, you’ve got the prisoner; one secures the floor above. Four, I want you to prep an exit for us. We’re gone in five minutes,” Haas said. People were moving before he’d finished giving orders.

Mark and his section leaped through the rough hole in the ceiling.

Any threats were dead in the command center.

Jerome got off of Harper. He looked okay, other than the broken limbs and the screaming, and the crying, and—okay, he didn’t look good, he looked like shit, but fuck, he was alive.

It’s the small things that count, Jerome thought, hooking his repulsor and opening his right gauntlet. He opened a medical pouch that he’d grabbed from the techs.

He pulled out a needle and jabbed it into Harper; the crying and screaming stopped as Harper slumped into unconsciousness.

“Contact!” Mark called, repulsors firing on the floor above.

Ko screamed as a heavy machine gun went off.

He went to red, and someone pushed him down through the hole in the ceiling.

Dooks caught him before he landed.

Jerome moved to him. Ko had his shoulder and left side chewed up. He was in a bad way; his lungs looked to be right fucked up. Jerome stuck him with as many drugs as he knew, which knocked him out, and drained a bottle of sealant in the various bullet holes.

Jerome saw Mark moving on his HUD. Then there was a large explosion. A new heavy machine gun went off; Mark grunted and his indicator went red.

Shortly after, the second heavy machine gun stopped shooting.

“Good!” Holm said.

“Let’s go!” Haas said. One section fell from the roof, Mark heavily so; he had wounds in his stomach that could turn bad quickly.

Heavy machine guns opened up on the main door. Domo and Obe’s markers went black, tracers dancing inside their armor.

Breaching charges that had been rigged up on a wall went up in a spray of cermite dust. Holm’s section crashed through the remaining wall as tracers continued to rip through the command center.

Sasaki let out a cry but got free of the fire.

Jerome threw Harper on his back and followed Holm’s section out; the other sections followed, firing at the doorways which were coming apart as the door sprouted more holes and rounds ripped through the cermite hallways.

Then the section was in housing units, then out in a cafeteria. Weapons fired around Jerome and contacts blossomed; more heavy weapons fired.

Ma screamed, then his cries died mid-breath.

“Fuck!” Tyler growled as Ma’s black marker stayed in their wake.

Then they were back in housing units and on a landing.

Holm’s section, and Haas ahead of Jerome, used their limbs to clear a bloody path.

Up they went. Another heavy cannon ripped into a doorway.

Dooks let out a grunt.

“Grenade out!” Ali yelled. Jerome saw the bandoleer go through the doorway.

It went off, the Chosen’s screams reaching Jerome’s ears. No one in the platoon even slowed as they raced upstairs.

They found the tail end of a new Chosen offensive; it was nothing like earlier attempts. Repulsors ripped through Chosen at close quarters, and Holm led his section through the Chosen, kicking, swiping, and running upwards.

By the time Jerome got to the Chosen, not one Chosen was left alive on the stairs.

It was a nerve-wracking five minutes before they emerged onto the trooper-held floor. It felt like a fucking eternity.

“Blow the access points,” Nerva said as soon as they were all clear.

Fire illuminated the walls, the floor shaking as dust shot out of the stairwell. Only broken metal and a large hole remained.

Jerome panted, adrenaline making his mouth taste metallic and dry. He deposited Harper on the floor; the man looked alive, at least.

Jerome opened his helmet. Already, troopers were looking to the wounded. Jerome opened up his shell so that he was sitting in his powered armor. He grabbed a pack of cigarettes from his pocket, put one to his lips, and lit it.

The air was thin and it was hard to breathe, but still he puffed on that cigarette.

“Can I bum a cigarette?” Zukic asked, sitting down next to Jerome and opening his armor up.

Jerome passed the pack and lighter over.

The floor smelled fucking terrible, not even the cigarette could hide it.

He didn’t get long to think about it.

“Thanks,” Zukic said, puffing out smoke as Jerome tucked it all away.

“No worries, dude,” Jerome said. They weren’t a warrant or sergeant at that moment, they were just two troopers sharing a smoke together.

“Alright, wounded Triple-Twos, you’re to get sorted out as soon as possible. Ko’s heading for the shuttles now,” Haas said.

The man was on a stretcher, getting a medic and troopers. As they ran, the medic worked on Ko.

“Jerome, your section is taking Harper up to the landing pads. The rest of you make your way to the upper levels. More air, and we’re getting a bit of a break. It’s not going to be long; Nerva is just figuring out how to use us best, and we’ve still got about eight hours of juice left,” Haas said. “Alright, let’s go!” Haas sounded tired, but his people listened.

Some of the Triple-Twos needed help walking, but they passed through the lines. He puffed at the cigarette in the corner of his mouth and let out a stream of smoke behind him.

Chapter 48

Tower

Earth, Sol System

6/3242

Nivad looked like he hadn’t slept in weeks; in the end, it had been five days. Even with that, he looked happy, honest-to-God happy.

“It’s confirmed?” he asked as Dalia finished her report. He knew that it had been, or else she wouldn’t have brought it to him.

But it still feels good to hear, he admitted to himself in the privacy of his own mind.

She smiled slightly, obviously feeling the same way as she exhaled the cigarette smoke, looking to her surface.

“Our top agent has been recovered aboard the carrier Reclaimer. The operative known as Harper was also recovered alive. We have information from the secondary command center, data from the research and development labs, and a copy of information from the primary command center. We turned a nineteen percent profit. The Masoul partnership is working to meet their quota for the next freighters coming up. The Trasys company has agreed to our negotiated price for their recovered freighter. Bonuses will be distributed as such.”

“Shipping Station is expected to be up and running in four months,” she continued, holding the cigarette to her lips and taking a drag.

Nivad did the same and looked at his view screens.

“Good, very good. Express my gratitude to our agent, and make sure that they are suitably recompensed. Take into consideration that I will be telling them to remain with Reclaimer to act as a subject matter expert,” Nivad said.

“Yes, sir,” she said, making a note on her surface.

Nivad luxuriated in the feeling of victory, looking out over Mega City’s glass, cermite, and polished metal faces. This was the center of his power; it was immense and staggering. Few if any had wielded the power he now held. Other thoughts tried to sneak in as he smoked and looked over his empire.

The cigarette burned to a stub and he put it in his ashtray. His face tightened into serious lines as he let the thoughts he’d held at bay dance in his mind.

“What about the operation with Osdal and Harmony?” Nivad asked.

Dalia’s face soured and her own face tightened.

“Osdal is showing its hands; operatives that have inserted themselves into lower standings are seeing the corruption. The top CEOs seem to be working with Harmony, or at least supporting them. They already have Chosen across the planet and system. It won’t be a Masoul; there is little to no resistance. If that will hold true for the twenty-three years it will take Reclaimer and our other carriers to reach the system…” she shrugged.

“And Harmony is using the broadcasts?” he asked.

“We haven’t confirmed it yet, but four systems including Osdal showed similar viewing behavior,” she said, looking like she had a bad taste in her mouth. “It’s still unconfirmed,” she added; it was clear she didn’t like how it wasn’t concrete.

Yet we both know that it adds up. We’ve been in this business too long to not trust our gut instinct, Nivad thought.

“Which ones?” The question was light, belying the importance of the information.

“Other than Osdal, Mintran, Fernix, and Housapel showed similar viewing behavior. The users were logged and regional heads are looking into it. They haven’t figured out that we think Harmony is at work there,” Dalia said.

Nivad picked up on how she said ‘is’ instead of ‘may be’, or ‘could possibly be.’

“Move the limbo carriers into position without raising alarms or suspicions,” he said.

She didn’t try to argue, simply nodded. The amount of credits it would take to get those carriers moved, and the cost to wake up all those troopers, was more than some companies made in a decade.

I have a feeling that we’ll be needing only too many of them soon. This war has just started. Nivad stood; it was time he got a shower and some sleep. The next round wouldn’t be for another twenty-four years.

Chapter 49

EMFC Reclaimer

Masoul Actual, Masoul System

7/3242

Jerome looked around the room. None of the Triple-Twos wanted to be stuck in a briefing room, but they were.

As soon as their powered armor was on its last hour of charge, they’d been ordered back to Reclaimer.

The armorers were going over the powered armor as soon as they were out of it.

Their hair was still wet from the shower they’d been ordered out of.

Thankfully someone had had the insight to get real food delivered to them in the conference room.

The situation on Masoul Actual was stable; the EMF controlled their levels. The resistance was still running around harassing them, but for the most part they were staying with the troopers and helping out.

Troopers relaxed, watching their sensor feeds; if Chosen got too close to the blown-up access points, they threw grenades down.

It was a callous way to win, and there was little honor in it, but the troopers cared little for honor and all about getting away from Masoul with all its Chosen and Harmony sympathizers.

Most of the other towers outside of central had already blown their levels and were holding them easily.

The Triple-Twos had been tasked with helping the troopers in contested towers disengage from the fight and blow their access points.

Domo, Ma, and Obe’s bodies were still at Central Tower. After helping the other towers, there were only seven of the platoon not being seen to for injuries.

Iliev, Ali, Dashtund, Dominguez, Jerome, Kojo, Young, and Haas had only suffered small scrapes and bruises.

Zukic, Holm, Bairamov, Tal, Tyler, Ko, Yu, Niemi, Mark, Bobbie, Dooks, and Sasaki were in medical getting patched up.

Ko looked stable, but it was too early to tell. His organs—ribs, lungs, most of it had to be replaced.

He was alive through machines and sealant.

If anyone could save him, it was Reclaimer’s medics.

No one was as bad as Ko, but Bairamov and Sasaki had the worst.

Missing limbs, severe concussions, and broken bones weren’t a big issue when a printer could pump a new one out in minutes and a few painful injections would send you right on your way to healing.

The biggest injury was concussion; those helmets could stop rounds, but the force of impact fucking hurt.

Mark could barely see straight, that much was evident as he threw up on the shuttle back. The big man had kept himself in the fight three hours after getting his bell rung.

Jerome looked up as Moretti came through the door wearing blue smart-clothes without any nametape or insignia.

A few smiled and waved; Moretti did so as well, relaxing as the room filled with white noise.

He waved people to their seats and grabbed a sandwich from the food delivery.

“First, I’m going to ask that none of you use my name, and pass the word on to the others. Call me M or DM in the presence of others; some have started calling me Eye,” he said, shooting a glance to Dashtund, who’d painted the eye on Moretti’s powered armor.

“Can do,” Haas said, looking to the others. They nodded. Moretti had watched their backs, so if he didn’t want others knowing something, that was fine by them.

“Thank you,” Moretti said, giving them a rare genuine smile.

His hand went into his pocket and the white noise disappeared.

“All of you will be asked to give a recollection of the events; this will be recorded and sent to the ministry. It might take a while, so I would expect you to return to Masoul Actual until the fighting is over,” Moretti said.

“Will we be able to keep the powered armor?” Haas asked.

“Yes. I have been talking to the higher-ups and they want you to get better acquainted with them. We might need them for our next engagement,” Moretti said.

“M, where will this next engagement happen?” Iliev asked.

“We have confirmed Chosen and Harmony personnel within Osdal. I would think that would be our next objective,” Moretti confirmed, nodding.

He bit into his sandwich, whilst the others looked thoughtful.

“Are they as bad as Masoul?” Kojo asked.

“It doesn’t look like it, but a lot can change in twenty-four years,” Moretti said.

“When you going back to Earth?” Jerome asked.

Moretti finished his sandwich.

“For the foreseeable future, I am attached to the EMFC Reclaimer as a Subject Matter Expert, or Schmee, as you people keep reminding me.” He looked at them severely, the corners of his mouth twitching in amusement.

It was still too early for people to give him a full-on smile.

Ministry of Intelligence, but if needs must, I will be attached to your unit on excursions.” He looked to Haas, who nodded. “It looks like there will be some carriers meeting us along the way; instead of having Reclaimer’s units dissolve, they will be reinforced by the carriers. I’ve heard noise of promotions in the air,” Moretti warned, his eyes looking around the room.

“Fuck me, right?” Dashtund sighed, sitting back in his chair. “I like being a corporal!” he complained.

“There will be more than enough occasions for you to get your ass busted down to corporal,” Haas promised.

“There better be!” Dashtund said.

Jerome shook his head at Dashtund’s antics, the mood feeling lighter already.

Chapter 50

EMFC Reclaimer

Masoul Actual, Masoul System

9/3242

Mark headed through his section’s barracks before flopping down on his bed.

“That good?” Ko said from his own bed.

It had been two months since they’d been recalled to Reclaimer. The oxygen levels on the troopers’ controlled levels were too low for humans to survive for five days.

Troopers were moving down again, looking to make sure the towers were clear.

Gas Planet and Shipping Station needed workers, and the resistance were only too happy to leave Masoul Actual. No one wanted to live on the planet. Maybe someone would in the future, but until then it would be left in its current state.

Ko had made it through surgery; his side was a mass of fresh pink skin, but he’d escaped medical and spent most of his time reading or walking to the cafeteria. He was still too weak to use weights and try to recover his strength.

“Just amended my recording for the fifth time. M didn’t even try to tell me it should be the last one now. Those Ministry of Intelligence types have so many damned questions,” Mark said into his pillow.

“Did you get the message about combat operations?” Ko asked, looking over from his bunk.

“Nope,” Mark said. He opened up his implants and saw his messages and reports cascade; it was almost enough to make him turn it back off.

“They’ve secured Central Tower and the powered armor we left behind, all intact and just like we left it. The other towers are looking clear as well. Shouldn’t be long until we’re headed for Osdal,” Ko said.

“Yeah,” Mark said, that one word encompassing just how tired he felt. His life had been nothing but fighting for survival, and it didn’t look like it would change anytime soon. Only now he had lost people he saw as brothers and sisters; it took a toll that couldn’t ever be put into numbers or words.

“I’m gonna grab a beer,” Mark said, pushing away the images his brain dredged up from Sacremon and Masoul.

“Give me a hand, I’ll come too. Got to test out this new liver and kidney,” Ko said.

Mark picked himself up and helped Ko to his feet. He was good once standing; it was the bending at the waist that did him in.

“Thought the liver was regrowing itself?” Mark asked.

“Yeah, but the kidney is new,” Ko said. They made for the door in companionable silence.

The walk to the mess was a quick one. Troopers in the halls were just coming back from Masoul Actual. They needed a shower, but they’d been able to get sleep and food while they were on Masoul.

They nodded to Mark and Ko as they walked, most talking to one another in hushed tones and taking second glances at them.

“I even remembered to do my flies up,” he said, getting a weak laugh from Mark and grinning at his own joke.

They got to the mess to find troopers there already, and before they could get to the bar, someone passed them each a beer.

“Thanks,” Mark said to the regimental sergeant major.

“Yousaved a lot of people’s asses. Never seen anything like that drop. The Chosen would have crushed us if it wasn’t for your platoon’s preparations. I don’t know how you pulled off the grenade thing in the Chosen’s frontlines, but I have a good number of buddies that are around because of that.” The warrant held up her beer; Ko and Mark tapped it, accepting the praise and getting a good mouthful of their beers.

“I doubt you lot will be paying for beers for some time. You ever need anything, find me. Regimental Sergeant Major Kumar,” she said by way of introduction.

“Will do, RSM,” Mark said. Ko nodded.

With that, she gave them a nod and headed off, beer in hand and wearing grimy smart clothes.

Mark and Ko found a couch and sat down on it. They talked about their recordings, about what might await them on Osdal, and after another couple of free beers, they started talking about those they’d lost.

***

It had been a few weeks since the interviews had ended, and a week since the memorial services had been held.

Fearless and Reclaimer were heading out from Masoul at their fastest speed. Freighters and shuttles were shipping the last resistance fighters out across the system.

Tyler remembered the hope he’d seen in the eyes of Jolie and the other resistance fighters. They just wanted to have something steady.

Tyler saw all too much of himself in their eyes.

That was what he had hoped for when joining the EMF. Things were more regular: he woke up in a system, donned his gear, and went to war; his friends died, cleaner bots stripped them of gear, and he was shipped back to his carrier.

He sighed, finding a finger in his ribs.

“Stop thinking,” Alexis whispered, throwing popcorn into her mouth and giving him a look that she would not have been happy with if he’d done it in return.

“Sorry, babe,” he said, smiling at her and giving her a kiss. She melted and nestled under his arm.

He let out a small laugh. He was a killer, there was no getting around it. His wife, brothers and sisters, they were all killers.

They had come from gangs to the stability of the EMF.

Tyler had sleepless nights over Sacremon. General Orlav had fought with honor; he wanted to make a system that bettered his people. The problem was he’d used a system that looked to control the companies and had failed dozens of times before.

The rebels on Sacremon had had a great life, and they had given it up to fight for their beliefs for the better of all. Harmony only looked to empower the few, using colorful language and fear.

He remembered Madam Song’s story and clenched his fist.

“Babe?” Alexis asked, patting his knee and looking at him, her voice low.

“Sorry, I was thinking again,” Tyler admitted, the anger sitting heavily in his chest.

“What about?” she asked in almost a whisper.

“About killing all of those Harmony fucks,” Tyler said.

Tyler saw anger tighten her features, and she nodded in understanding.

“I suddenly understand why Mark spends so much time in the gym,” she said, raising her brow in question.

“Shall we?” Tyler asked, knowing their date night was ruined.

“Yeah.” They got out of their seats and walked out of the entertainment center.

They held one another’s hands and headed for the gym.

“Sorry,” Tyler said.

“Don’t worry about it, babe, I know the feeling. These Harmony fuckers stepped over a line, and I’m happy to bury them for it.” She glanced at him then, some of the anger dimming a bit. “You owe me a date night, though, and it better be damned good!”

“I will endeavor to do my best,” he said, giving her an extravagant bow.

Chapter 51

EMFC Reclaimer

Masoul System heading for Osdal System

11/3242

Nerva ignored the messages from Legate Aurelius and instead looked to the reports of his troopers. They had gone through three bad battles since entering Masoul.

All too many had died. Not even the legion ships could get through Masoul Actual’s atmosphere with Reclaimer and Fearless orbiting. The potential for being spotted was too high.

He looked over the information that interim General Domashev had passed on to him. It reported the transport of ten thousand powered armor units to Reclaimer. Now Domashev wanted Nerva to get a division ready to fight in powered armor without having it on hand.

He had looked over the powered armor currently hanging out in a cleared-out ammunition dump in Reclaimer. It was rudimentary compared to the armor he had used with the legion, but it worked.

It amplified the user’s power, had decent armor, and it wasn’t all that hard to use. It was more prone to breaking down than legion powered armor, but it would hopefully work.

NIDenise had told him that all information the legion was getting from Osdal was off limits. The reasoning was that Nivad was watching closely and Nerva needed to react to the information naturally.

Knowing information before it was given to him might make people suspicious.

Nerva understood it, and he hated it.

He sighed and stood, grabbing a box of cigars and throwing them in his leg pocket. He took a moment to send a message as he threw his beret on his head.

He walked out of the office. People saluted him as he passed and he saluted them back. Those that knew him gave him a nod in greeting; he hated saluting.

It didn’t take long for him to get a lift out of officer country and to his division’s area. No one saluted him down here, and he pulled his beret off, stuffing it in a leg pocket.

He greeted people by name, ignoring ranks as he breezed through, finally arriving at an out-of-the-way observation port that many might have taken for a maintenance closet for the tight squeeze into it and the electronic panels one was greeted with.

Once past that, it opened up into a large observation deck with couches spread out in a broken U-shape facing the massive glass sheet that looked out into space.

Masoul lay out there, a ball of angry mother nature. A small stream of ships’ lights could be traced to Landing City—resistance people leaving the horrors of the planet behind.

Nerva stepped out, seeing the Triple-Twos and Combat Shuttle One-Four-Nine’s crew partaking in the drinks produced by a still working in the corner.

Lieutenant Yu spat out his drink and his eyes bulged as Nerva walked in.

“Something the matter?” Nerva asked the lieutenant. Dashtund, the proud owner of the still, gave Nerva a drink, grinning the entire time.

Nerva’s face didn’t even twitch as he drank the drink, and Jerome shifted his ass on a crate so the Major could sit down.

“Uhh, nothing, sir,” Yu said, clearly expecting to get yelled at for drinking from an illegal still.

“Dashtund, get me a damn pouch, will you? I swear I got fatter since the last time I was in here,” Ortiz growled, shifting his short but wide bulk into the space.

Dashtund filled up another pouch and handed it to the man. Captain Sholtz, Division Sergeant Major Dalton, and most of the officers, their warrants and sergeant majors all grabbed a drink and took a seat.

Nerva pulled out the box of cigars he’d stuffed in his pocket.

He showed them to Jerome, opening the box with Cohelans branded into its lid.

“Don’t mind if I do,” Jerome said, pulling a cigar from the box. Nerva took one as well, as it made its rounds. Some grabbed a cigar, while others pulled out cigarettes or didn’t partake in tobacco products at all.

Nerva looked to Mark and Tyler, who each had cigars.

His eyes moved to Jerome beside him. They were no longer jumpy recruits; they were troopers hardened through war. The years had aged them. He saw that age and the fatigue not born from a lack of sleep, but from being at war for so long, in their faces and the faces in the observation deck.

Jerome had already chewed his cigar open and lit the tip, and was contentedly puffing on it. Nerva put his in his mouth, and Jerome held the light out. Nerva made sure it was lit tasting the smoke before letting it out in a sigh.

“Thanks,” Nerva said, sitting back into the chair and puffing on the cigar.

People had quiet conversations as they looked through the wide-open glass that showed Masoul slowly falling away.

Nerva slowly rose, exhaling cigar smoke and raising his drinking pouch. The others in the room took note and rose as well, conversation falling away.

“To the fallen, to our brothers and sisters. May we fight in honor of them.” Nerva held his pouch higher before taking a deep drink.

He looked to the others in the room. They took their seats, strong men and women letting out emotions that they didn’t let out around the lower ranks.

Nerva sat.

“So what will happen in Osdal?” Jerome asked, before holding his own cigar to his lips.

“We’ll wipe Harmony out there and anywhere else they show up,” Nerva said, his voice cold and hard.

“Yes, sir,” Jerome said, looking from Masoul to Nerva, trust and agreement in his eyes, which had been hardened already by too much war and loss.

Nerva drank from his pouch to hide his face and to buy himself a moment to collect his thoughts. Many more people would die in Osdal; too many had died already. He would not rest until Harmony was but a footnote in the EMF’s history books. He didn’t care about the losses; he didn’t care about the wins. He didn’t feel the anxiety or excitement that others felt. He was interested by the power he wielded as the head of the Ministry of Intelligence, with a bank account that rivaled a corporation’s.

He liked playing with companies and corporations. War was wasteful to his system. It was necessary to have the EMF, but to have war? For that, he would remove Harmony from existence.

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