Fernix
Author: Michael Chatfield
Date: 2016-09-28 04:00:00+00:00
Keywords: Science Fiction
Description: Mark and Tyler Victor have fought Harmony from Masoul to Osdal. They've lost friends, shed blood and tears and now they're headed for one of Harmony's strongholds-Fernix. Osdal left Mark a changed man, a man not just looking to keep his people alive, but a man looking to avenge the only woman that cared for him. He has nothing to lose but his life, something he would gladly give to destroy Harmony.

Chapter 1

EMFC Dauntless

Osdal System, fleet shakedown moving to Fernix.

11/3267

Mark Victor rose from his bed, his body feeling as heavy as the memories he’d carried into his sleep.

“He wakes,” Second Lieutenant Lucy Amber said, and her disdain was audible.

Mark paid her little attention. She wasn’t from Reclaimer, she didn’t know him and he didn’t care for her jabs. He had been willing to be amicable in the beginning, but Second Lieutenant Amber wasn’t going to let him crawl into his bottle without daily ribbing.

He just wanted to suffer in peace. Every day he went to the gym, he worked his body into a sweat, tiring himself out as he shot with weapons, and trained with blades and his hands.

At night the pain came out, and he found himself looking at the newest bottle. He’d find a quiet place to sit and drink in an attempt to push his memories down. Instead, the alcohol seemed to make them more vibrant. He would cry silently, hidden away from everyone.

He was Mark Victor, ‘Diablo’, the hero of the Harmony War. No one wanted to see a war hero’s pain. They thought heroes were better than everyone else: they didn’t feel pain, couldn’t shed tears. It was all a lie, and Lieutenant Amber had seen that pain and dismissed him as a hero.

Mark got to his feet and walked to the bathroom they shared.

She shook her head, disgusted at a man who she had thought was so much more than human.

“I think you drank all of the mouthwash last week.” She was still trying to find his hot button.

Mark couldn’t give a rat’s fart in a vacuum.

He closed the door, dropping his clothes and stepping into the shower. Then he swigged down a few hangover curing meds that he’d got from a medic who had been transferred from Reclaimer.

He looked over his body in the small mirror. Scars covered him from head to toe, and he touched them with reverence; a cut on his leg from Earth’s slums, a line a bit lower where he’d had his leg regrown and re-attached in Sacremon, burn marks from an explosion that had nearly killed him and his brother Tyler on the same planet.

He had another scar on his neck from a near miss on Masoul’s gas planet. He turned, seeing his latest scars, which were less than a few months old, ragged puckered things along his back and arm.

The door opened and Hall stepped in, her mouth open, as if she’d stopped mid-yell.

Mark’s head turned to face her, his eyes like the barrel of an E-12. “Get out.” His voice was cold and harsh.

“I, uh, I didn’t…” she started, her eyes looking at the wounds.

He pushed her out. She stumbled, still staring as the door shut.

Mark pulled on his smart clothes, and they clung to his body. He was tall at six and a half feet, and a dense mass of muscle at two hundred and twenty pounds.

The drink had added some flab to his frame, but for the time being Mark would hold off on the drink. Today was not a day he could crawl into a bottle and try to forget what he’d seen. Today was the memorial for all of those who had died.

Mark stepped out of his room, and people stared at him; they’d probably seen the videos and pictures.

Mark and his old Platoon, nicknamed the Triple-Two’s, had risen to fame by being the tip of the EMF’s attack at Harmony. Someone in the Ministry of Intelligence had turned them into heroes with the right touch-ups on films, and creative licensing.

Mark didn’t care. He was a Trooper; he’d signed his life away to Earth’s Military Forces nearly a hundred and thirty years ago. For eleven years he had fought on different planets, the rest he’d been stuck in cryo-sleep, like freighted cargo to the next battle.

Earth and Her Colonies was a nice title for what should have been Earth and Its Companies. Corporations owned everything, down to the individual planets that colonists lived on. Colonists worked for the corporations, churning out whatever product the system specialized in, and everyone was happy.

That is, until some colonist starts getting pissed with the status quo, throws a hissy fit and rebels. That’s when the EMF come wading in. They’re the corporations’ guard dogs.

Many colonist rebels gave up their fight as soon as a Carrier entered their system. If they didn’t, then the Troopers would come down and ‘clear’ the planet of any aggressive forces.

When Mark and his brother Tyler joined up it had been a neat idea; join the EMF, tour the universe, get paid, maybe get a retirement, and fight less than he had back in the slums.

Their first drop had been on Sacremon, one of the rare engagements that the EMF had had with the colonists they kept in line.

By the time EMFC Reclaimer, his Carrier, had left the system, more than eighty percent of their original Trooper complement were dead on Sacremon. They’d gone back to Earth, thinking that they would never see anything like Sacremon again.

It probably would have gone that way if Harmony, a group that promised to overthrown the corporations and put the people back into power, hadn’t started shaking their sabers at Earth and Her Colonies.

“Hey, Jerome,” Mark said, walking up on his friend as he stepped out of his quarters. He’d made second lieutenant, and got his own Platoon to command. Mark knew that he hadn’t achieved the same rank because people were making noises about his drinking and his comments. Telling a colonel to go fuck himself did not go down with the upper ranks.

It will also get you banned from the officers’ mess - and their better booze, Mark thought.

“Hey, Mark,” Jerome looked him over, nodding to himself, assessing that Mark was sober and looking presentable. Jerome, like Tyler, was Mark’s brother, even though none of them shared a drop of the same blood.

“You with us from now on?” Jerome asked, as they continued on towards the flight deck.

Are you going to be crawling into the drink again?

“For today,” Mark said. Tomorrow, or after midnight, he couldn’t make any guarantees.

Jerome nodded, he didn’t judge. Mark had seen more than most people. He slapped Mark on the back, telling him that he was there if Mark needed him. Saying the actual words would have been embarrassing for them both. They were Troopers, they’d drop into hell if their paymasters whipped them enough, and after their friends at a moment’s notice. Admitting something was wrong would allow one to start seeing the cracks in the EMF establishment.

“You hear about the new training schedule?” Jerome asked, pulling away from the touchy subject.

“No.” Mark checked his implants, skimming through the regular junk to see if there were any important updates.

“Exactly; there aren’t any. They want us to take them into Fernix with virtually no training in the powered armor. Seems that someone wants to save credits by putting us under,” Jerome snorted.

“Fucking credit pinching fuckers,” Mark said, sighing and shaking his head.

“Got that right. So any training we do is now coming out of our pay. Bastards are making us pay for being awake. If it’s for more than a month, then we have to pay an additional fee as they say they will need to do more medical procedures on us. As if they don’t already grow all the supplies they need to put us back together in the growing tanks.”

It wasn’t like the Troopers could argue, they had to suck up and shut up, otherwise who knew, maybe the next time they needed an ammunition supply run, some bean counter would deny their request.

“Just have to stick together,” Mark said.

Jerome took a sideways look at the other Troopers in the lift, and most of them were looking at Mark, laughing and gossiping.

“Yeah,” Jerome agreed.

***

Tyler saw Mark come out of the lift with Jerome, and the two of them looked like they had something sour in their mouths.

Mark’s movements were sure and his eyes were haunted but alert.

“Hey, Warrant, good to see that you could make it out of the bathroom today! Sure you don’t want me to grab you a drink?” a corporal asked, he and his friends laughing at Mark as he walked through the flight deck’s massive airlocks.

Tyler felt heat rising from his gut as he turned towards the trio.

Mark walked past them, no emotion on his face until his arm whipped out, snagging the talker. He slammed his head into the corporal’s nose, the crunch making Tyler wince. Before the man hit the ground, Mark hit the man on one side and connected with the woman to the other. Their legs went out from under them, knocked out cold.

The man Mark had cracked in the face with his forehead was on his knees moving back and forth, looking at his hands as blood poured from his nose.

“Sorry, I didn’t quite hear that. Did you say something?” Mark asked the man.

The corporal said something, spitting teeth onto Mark’s front, so Mark punched him again, dropping him to the ground.

“Fucking premium grade A Harmony fodder, fucking barely worth the armor,” Mark hissed, shaking his head and moving towards Tyler and the group of EMFC Reclaimer’ Troopers who had been transferred to the Dauntless. Their old Carrier and home no longer existed.

If they had still been on Reclaimer, then Mark would be expecting to have the military police collect his ass and drag him away to the brig. But here on Dauntless things were a bit different. They had never really gotten away from the slums, and most of the people still hung out with the gangs that they had been a part of back on Earth. Those that didn’t have a gang were shamed by others, no matter their rank or position.

The one thing that the people of Dauntless seemed to agree on, was the fact the people from Reclaimer didn’t belong on their Carrier. Five of Dauntless’ people were still recovering in the medical ward after their attempt to beat up one of the Reclaimer’s corporals.

What Dauntless’ people didn’t understand was that the Reclaimer people stayed together. They’d segregated themselves as much as possible, teaching those who were willing to listen, and leaving the others to their own devices. Reclaimer’s Combat Shuttle crews were the same way.

Tyler wouldn’t trust the combat crews from Dauntless if they swore on their mothers’ lives. Those birds were nothing compared to the Combat Shuttles from Reclaimer, they were the same model but Tyler doubted that they’d had maintenance done on them in their entire lifetime.

The Combat Shuttle pilots and the Troopers from Reclaimer worked together, making sure that their rides were good, and they looked after one another.

The Dauntless people were less likely to fuck with them now, though Tyler could sense the tension, the whispers and dark looks. Sometime, maybe soon, that tension would boil over. There were too many people on Dauntless that had thought themselves top dog, and then Reclaimer’s people had come in and run all over that. They were the strongest group on the Carrier and the gangs didn’t like it.

Mark approached, looking at Tyler, and the Reclaimer people moved out of his way, nodding, greeting, smiling. Mark did the same. As soon as he passed they closed ranks, their eyes looking outwards for signs of a threat.

“Hey,” Mark said, reaching Tyler and Alexis, a small smile on his lips, though it never really reached his eyes.

“Hey,” Tyler replied, tapping Mark on the shoulder. It was good to see his brother sober for once.

Mark looked around, greeting the other Troopers; there was the remainder of the Triple-Twos and others that had been stationed on the Carrier. Haas made his way through the group, he had been the Triple-Two’s second lieutenant up to Osdal, when he’d climbed to Company sergeant major, and now captain.

“You with us?” Haas asked Mark, cutting right to the point.

“Until Fernix is over,” Mark said. Tyler tried to hide his wince, but Alexis must have seen it, because she squeezed his hand in reassurance. It was hard for Tyler to see his brother like this.

Sure he had drunk before, but now it wasn’t just drinking for fun, it was drinking to forget.

Mark had told Tyler about Caroline, and while another man might have told Mark to get his shit together, Tyler instead nodded and got him another beer. He hated seeing his brother like this, but the war had cracked him wide open. And Tyler had the horrible feeling that he wouldn’t see his brother for much longer; either the war, the people on Dauntless, or he himself would pull him away from Tyler.

A trumpet sounded, and the room went quiet. Not even the gangs tried to do anything as everyone faced the coffins with the Trooper emblem stamped on them.

For a long painful minute, memories of the fallen ran through the minds of the Troopers, then the trumpet went off again.

People started walking from the room, speaking in low reverent murmurs.

“Let’s go to the observation deck, we have some things to plan,” Tyler said, looking to the warrants and above around him.

“Lead the way second lieutenant,” Haas said.

Tyler did as he was ordered, and the Reclaimer’ Troopers walked off in their groups of no less than three.

Tyler glanced around, searching for threats. It felt like he was back in Earth’s slums, or on one of the undercover missions in Masoul or Osdal.

Dauntless wasn’t home, and these weren’t friendly forces.

Chapter 2

Small Electronics Factory Station Thirteen

Oort Cloud Housapel System

11/3267

Small Electronics Factory Station Thirteen was unremarkable, but what it worked on and the reason that it was in the Oort cloud instead of being around Housapel Prime was much more interesting.

Fifty-seven Peace Bringer Carriers rested around the factory and a nearby station.

The Small Electronic Factory did what the name suggested, except these electronics weren’t meant to power someone’s sonic shower or surface assistant. These electronics powered the Carriers outside.

Raw materials from Osdal’s shipments over the years were funneled into the station, churning out the speciality electronics. It would take years until the factory was finished installing everything on the Carriers, but Peter Quinn had time.

“How goes the integration, Melanie?” he asked the robust looking woman that greeted him at the airlock.

“We’re hitting our quotas. Got some messed up parts, but the quality control is doing a good job, so we should be good to go in time.” Brisk and businesslike, that was Melanie to a T. She was also a staunch believer in overthrowing the companies.

To her, Quinn was just part of the war council, and it was a useful cover which allowed him to continue on with his life, as his puppet politicians took the attention.

“Very well, I heard that there was an issue with the cryo-pods?”

She didn’t look too pleased to talk about the pods.

“Yes, sir, we’ve corrected the issue now. Would still prefer to use the room as an ammunition magazine,” she said, turning and walking into the station.

The place was filled with presses, 3D printers, blinding welders and sparking welders.

“If we are to win the war, we do not need to simply fight them in our own system, we must pressure them in theirs,” Peter said, bestowing a knowing smile on her. It was a conversation that they had had before.

“Yes, sir,” she sighed, knowing. like all the other times, that Peter was just a mouthpiece. The real leader, President Joshua Toen, was a fiery man with powerful convictions, and he led with a passion that the people believed in. Peter was just the man seeing that the president’s mission was carried out.

“As you should believe, my dear Melanie,” Peter said, his smile becoming genuine.

“We’re still applying the armored panels we got from Osdal, and we’re putting weapons in, along with the integrated bridge. I still don’t understand why the bastards put the thing on the front of the Carrier instead of putting it under all of the armor. It’ll make it easier to kill their Trooper dogs,” she said, the words of a woman who had worked hard to get to her position.

“All the easier to kill them,” Peter said.

“Give me some of that fancy powered armor and those new guns, I’ll give you some Trooper corpses to put up,” she snarled.

“Maybe when we’re done with this project, Melanie.”

“I’ll hold you to that, sir.”

Chapter 3

The Yard

Sol System

11/3267

Jane Costa sat back in her grandmother’s seat, the seat of the owner of ‘The Yard’. Her great grandfather had started the station off. He’d lucked out with getting a half-built refinery, and putting it to work in order to support the yard’s needs. At first they had made small ships, enough to eek out a profit. Then they had succeeded, and funding had come in from private investors and The Yard had flourished.

They grew in size and ability. They mined their own resources and fed it right into their factory and yards.

Solar farms grew to remove their reliance on the power plant fuel that the companies were charging a premium on, in order to cut them out of the market. There had been threats, issues with the corporations, and companies messing with them.

Slowly, through it all, they had grown, hiring people from Earth, from the EMF, Troopers, pilots, mechanics, engineers, all of them came. Madeline Costa seemed to have a good relationship with the EMF.

People couldn’t go back to being in the slums, so The Yard became their home.

It was slow but they did okay, then companies put the pressure on their buyers and they stopped selling inter-system transports.

Jane laughed, remembering the meeting.

Madeline had heard the reports, and the room was full of angry tension, a powder keg of emotions.

“Why don’t we set up our own transport business?” Madeline had asked, shrugging in her seat at the head of the conference table. The tension had seemed to burst like a bubble.

People looked confused, interested and then there was excitement, laughter and joy. They could do it! The problem was that they did it damn well.

Companies that needed items shipped were always looking for good people to move them; to have freight waiting was to lose money.

Companies, corporations, anyone with freight and credits found a new shipping option.

Companies that had pressured them to use their resources, instead of mining their own, became good friends. They had goods to ship and needed trustworthy shippers. Madeline smiled to their faces, cursed them in The Yard and made credit hand over fist. The Yard stepped into its prime, and everything flourished.

Soon, they had too many customers and not enough freighters. Why didn’t they just make them bigger?

Jane had joined when the last of the large inter-system freighters came out.

The Yard grew to make the Big Freighter, and the Bigger Freighter; people weren’t about fancy long names, and it went well with The Yard being called just what it was.

It was as if Madeline had read the future. Osdal was a warzone. A few years after that and the EMF was putting out contracts to have people make Carriers.

The Yard signed on, and any issues they were having with corporations and companies disappeared overnight. The EMF was controlled by Nivad Selvra, and no one wanted to piss him off.

The Yard, unhindered and with money being thrown at them by contracts meant to entice corporations with more money than sense, exploded into activity.

They started pushing out one every year, then two, then three. At the peak they had been putting out seven a year.

Madeline was old and frail, because the companies had kept medical aid from her in her younger days. It was only in her later years, when the EMF needed their Carriers, that she’d found out that life extension treatments wouldn’t work on her. Madeline had shrugged it off and continued working.

A dozen years later and the exploits of her younger life were catching up with her body.

Madeline had summoned Jane to her bed in the medical ward; Jane was already running the day-to-day business of The Yard, waiting for someone to take over, maybe one of her brothers, maybe her mother.

Madeline had told Jane that Earth and Her Colonies were going to need freighters to carry supplies between planets that hadn’t been shipped to in decades.

“Why don’t we make the biggest Carriers in Earth and Her Colonies?” Madeline whispered in her ear. It was quiet but strong. With those words, Jane saw the woman who had asked why they didn’t set up their own transport business reflected in her eyes.

“Why don’t we do just that,” Jane said into the dead air of her grandmother’s office, no, her office.

A tear rolled down her cheek as she looked out onto The Yard. It never stopped working. Refined ore was deposited, factories churned out parts, machine shops checked them out and transports took them to The Yard, turning empty space into ships.

There were now three other yards under their control, all of them dotted around close by.

They made everything from shuttles to the Madeline Classed Freighter, the first of its kind at three kilometers wide and two kilometers’ long.

Jane pulled up a hologram showing the boxy ship. The crew quarters rested along the spine of the freighter, and it had holds that could be divided, breaking off shipments.

It was wider than it was long for two reasons: more drives could be added to its rear and more solar sails could extend around the craft. It was ugly as all hell, but while it was planned to be the largest freighter in existence, it was also meant to be one of the fastest.

The slowly spinning hologram of the ship disappeared and Madeline’s face appeared in its place.

“Alright, well, looks like I’m going to be punching the clock out of this place sometime soon so I made this recording to tell you who the owners of The Yard really are.” Madeline wasn’t one for small talk, even in her old age. “Don’t you get teary-eyed and all that messiness on me, listen up and listen good. If you got ‘em, smoke ‘em,” Madeline said, following her own advice in the feed.

Jane laughed. It was a sad thing as she knew that Madeline was dead and gone. She grabbed a cigarette from her arm pouch and lit it up as Madeline started her story.

“Your great grandfather was one of four people who started The Yard. The others were Quentin Richter, Mark Victor, and Jerome Victor, though Tyler and Alexis Victor are also part of the contract now,” Madeline sighed, looking into the feeds. “Family’s messy, anyway. Quentin Richter was the leader of a gang called the Westerly Three Complex - you might know them. We have a number of their people working up here, after they found they couldn’t hack it in the gang. Hell, the gang screens everyone that comes up here. He provides security and a funnel from The Yard to the Victor Corporation, which The Yard is a part of. The Victor Corporation is not only the gang, but the greenhouses on Earth… they have an agreement with them, a tax. That tax has kept the lights on more times than I would like to admit.” Madeline smoked, Jane mimicking her grandmother’s motions.

“So, the Victors,” Madeline said, looking wistful. “They should be around twenty-eight or so now. They’re my bosses, your bosses, and the owners of the Westerly Three Complex, the greenhouses and The Yard. They also own the system to system freighting business.”

Twenty-eight? How, The Yard was bought over sixty years ago!”

“They’re also Troopers,” Madeline said, pulling Jane right out of her line of thinking.

“What?” Jane asked Madeline, who was smiling as if she had heard Jane’s question.

“They’re Troopers aboard the Earth Military Force Carrier Reclaimer. I’ve never met them in person, though I’ve seen them fighting on the military streams the ministry sell. They’re wrapped up in the Harmony mess. I don’t know if they will make it out alive, but no matter what, you will keep the lights on and you will keep the family’s promise to them. The Yard and everything else is their retirement, it’s their plan for if they get out of Earth’s Military Forces alive. The Costas will not break that promise,” Madeline said, her eyes boring into Jane’s. “Now, all the finicky little bits, like how we break up profits and how you can apply for a discretionary fund if something goes bad. Hopefully you won’t need it, but all parts of the corporation, from the gang to The Yard, have a reservoir of cash that we can use if we get into a tight spot. No, I don’t know how much there is, all I know is that it is considerable. Don’t go and buy fancy things with it! We’re not going to keep this thing going by running the people that gave us this chance out of their savings,” Madeline said, talking to Jane as she had when she had wired a power closet on an inter-system freighter wrong. Right amount of scolding, understanding, and hope that she’d learned her lesson from the whole thing.

Jane smiled once again; her grandmother had been one hell of a character, and she hoped that she could do the old woman proud.

Even if her eyes were getting itchy with hidden emotions. She’d known that there had been something going on in the background. She knew too much about the yard and her grandmother to know that there was something going on and that a portion of their profits seemed to drift away.

“Okay, get out a surface, or one of those gizmos that you like to use and listen carefully,” Madeline said, lighting up another cigarette.

Jane felt like a kid again, listening to her grandmother tell her late night stories.

Madeline let out an exhale of cherries and vanilla.

SLS Furtim

Heading to the Hellenic System

12/3267

Legate Nerva.

Nerva looked himself over. He was wearing the tanned, almost leather looking, fatigues of The Legion, and they weren’t all that dissimilar to his Troopers’ smart clothes.

The only major difference was the medals that appeared on his chest, and the fact that the clothes connected to NIDenise, his Neural Interfacing Artificial Intelligence.

If he took the shirt off, then he could see her liquid-like metal housing on his left arm. While he had been undercover in the EMF she had spread her mass out, so she wasn’t a solid bar on his arm.

Now they were surrounded by people of The Legion and Legion recruits from the EMF, there was no need to hide the armband.

There was a stack of medals showing his deployments, timed served, wounds. On his right shoulder an image of a shield and two swords showed that he was powered armor capable. His view was augmented by NIDenise, and she related everything through his optical nerve, just like the EMF’s implants.

He looked at himself; it had been a lifetime since he had last worn the uniform of The Legion.

He looked away from the mirror and headed out of his quarters towards the bridge. He heard the whispers and saw the legionnaires giving him sideways looks. With their augmented view they could see his rank and name, but his bio he had taken out of the public sphere.

“Can’t they just use the net?” Nerva asked, hearing another person talk about Legate Nerva, the Ice Man that had held the gates to Roma Prime closed to the Maraukian horde.

NIDenise was wise enough to not comment on his thoughts. He had a less than cordial relationship with her, as it had become clear that she had played a role in his removal from the EMF, and his return to The Legion.

“Permission to enter, Centurion Exceter,” Nerva called out, catching the centurion’s eye.

“Certainly, Legate Nerva,” Exceter said, waving Nerva in.

Exceter was ranks below Nerva, but Nerva wasn’t going to bust the man’s balls. He was the cap… centurion. He corrected himself in his mind.

Nerva moved into the bridge. It wasn’t like the EMFC bridges. It was buried in the center of the Carrier, and people weren’t sitting at their stations, they were reclined in them, their hands manipulating controls down at their sides as holograms flickered in front of them.

There were manual controls, but they didn’t need them, a thought through an NIAI could control their station. Many of them were probably checking out news streams or playing games or doing tests in their heads.

The bridge looked like a curved arrow with the centurion of the ship at the rear, helm to his right and weapons to his left. His second in command was the ships artificial intelligence, Furtim, called AIFurtim to differentiate between him and NIAI’s.

It was like having Mister or Miss ahead of your name. Coming from the EMF, Nerva found it weird, but it was also comforting.

They faced forward with the lower deck housing communications, the helm, sensors, and engineering from left to right in their reclined couches. The chairs around the outside of the arrow, pointing into the wall were feeder stations; they pooled information from the ship and sent it to the seven stations that were the brain of the ship.

The front screen showed the blurring stars of being in jump. On the side screens it showed their intended destination. Roma, within the Hellenic System. The heart of The Legion, and where the war with the Maraukians had started.

Where it had all started for Nerva.

What would have taken Earth and Her Colonies decades using sub-light engines and solar panels to get from system to system. The SLS Furtim would take weeks, their jump drives breaking past the barriers of physics and FTL travel.

Aurelius hadn’t told him what he was going to be doing yet. He wished that he was still back with his people and heading for Fernix. Though there wasn’t any way he could go back to that now; him coming back from the dead would raise too many questions.

For now, The Legion needed to remain a secret from humanity. They were still too violent, caring only for profit. The Union of Human Worlds was already fighting one war with the Maraukians. They didn’t need to fight another against the greedy corporations of Earth and Her Colonies.

Nerva sighed, thinking of his forces, that were spread over EMFC Dauntless and Fearless. It wouldn’t be long until they got underway for Fernix, to attempt to catch up with the freighters hauling Osdal’s processed materials.

Another thought brought up Fernix again. NIDenise read his mental thoughts perfectly, he didn’t even need to move his hands as images and data flew across his ocular nerve.

Fernix would be harder than anyone thought, and it wasn’t even the real battle. No, Harmony were too smart to have the fight on just their own soil.

Chapter 4

Tower

Earth, Sol System

12/3267

Nivad Selvra looked at the feeds coming in from Osdal. There were still two Carriers, the Indomitable and Prudence, above Osdal Actual. Their Troopers now controlled the processing stations holding orbit over Osdal Actual.

The Chosen were being segregated in their cities along with the civilian populations.

If any shuttles or craft tried to leave those cities, they were hunted down by Carrier weaponry or Combat Shuttles. The tactic was simple: weaken the people by starving them a little, then roll in and smash them down with the combined strength of both Carriers. All of the Troopers on those Carriers were wearing powered armor and knew how to use it.

Nivad was hoping that they could clean up Osdal quick, in order to join the rest of the Troopers leaving the system for Fernix.

He changed to different reports. The asteroid miners were happy with their fighting; they’d handed over their weapons and headed back to their stations. They’d had their taste of war and it was enough for them, it seemed.

The Troopers were keeping an eye on them, but the asteroid miners seemed to be getting back to work instead of sitting around.

Nivad had annulled all debt in the system and given away some incentives to the asteroid miners. It seemed to have inspired them, and they were busy hauling asteroids into their refining stations by the freighter-load for cold hard credits.

The colony ship with the CEOs and higher management was still a few decades away, and by the time that they got to the system, the asteroid miners would have filled the processing stations and the Osdal Partnership’s resource bunkers, and then some.

He looked into freighter services that were able to go to Osdal, nearly all of them were running around the Harmony controlled area to keep the rest of the EHC going. They were already behind on deliveries, as freighters were in high demand and Fernix wasn’t exactly going to help make more of them.

He saw a notation on The Yard connected to Osdal. He looked into it and felt a smile cross his lips. The Yard had proved to be more resourceful than Nivad had given them credit for. They were becoming a major player in Earth’s inter-system freighting business.

They were outbidding other companies, and their people cared about getting the cargo where it was supposed to be, on time and without damage, unlike the larger companies.

Now, with their larger yards that they had developed since they had taken on the contracts to complete Earth Military Force Carriers, they were working to make the largest freighters in known space.

It would be a matter of months until the freighter was complete, and its inaugural trip would be to Osdal. It looked like they were in negotiations with the Osdal Partnership to haul personnel to the system, as well as machinery and equipment, and they were also talking to Masoul about moving that freight to their system, and setting up a trading hub there.

Masoul would never have thought about signing a trading agreement with a freighting Company with just one freighter before Harmony had happened. Now, they needed every freighter possible moving goods in and out of their system.

Nivad looked at the production rates for The Yard; they were aiming to have a Carrier produced every year for the next five years, but judging by the plans for expansion on their various building slips, they were going to be making much larger freighters a lot faster. The wall of his office went from showing Mega City outside the tower in which he resided, to a graph showing viewership of the feeds of the EMF that the ministry sold to the rich for entertainment.

It spiked abruptly and Nivad smiled. He’d had Wallace come up with a program that looked through people’s records and their commander’s reports. It would determine whether Troopers deserved a medal for their actions in the war against Harmony. It was just another way to instill a sense of pride in the EMF.

Harmony gave Nivad a perfect way to portray the companies in a good light and use it to create peace, for at least some time. War was good for many Company’s profits, at least those based around Earth who hadn’t joined Harmony.

For Nivad it was wasteful, and it messed with the market. It made it unstable and messy. It also showed a rival to his own power.

His smile disappeared and his eyes dulled as he looked at the view screen without seeing it.

Few had seen behind Nivad’s mask and, of those, none of them had lived past seeing the psychopath that lay beneath the thin veneer of humanity.

He honestly didn’t understand why people cared whether others lived or died. He cared about money, and about pulling one over on the most powerful people in the history of humanity.

Harmony went against his game, but it didn’t make him angry, and it didn’t make him sad or pissed off. It made him toy with the idea of letting them win. It would only be too easy.

Only one thing stopped him: letting them win would be losing. This was a game of subterfuge, he might see people as pawns, but he couldn’t deny a good game. When his life was on the line, well, it made his heart actually speed up for once.

He would destroy Harmony for fun, and to return to the much more interesting political games of Earth and Her Colonies. One battle was boring, but controlling an entire race without them ever knowing it, that was interesting.

He continued to watch his various news feeds, not caring about the broadcast of the medal ceremonies and the highlight reels that the people in the Ministry of Intelligence had put together.

It was a meaningless exercise, but it would incite the people to believe in the companies, and the Troopers to fight harder and return Nivad to his life of Company politics and maneuvering.

Chapter 5

EMFC Dauntless

Oort Cloud exiting Osdal System

12/3267

“Sir, I request that we get more training time with the powered armor,” Haas stated, staring at the wall behind Captain Yosef. It was filled with commendations, letters of reference, pictures, and an odd looking rifle that had been taken from some group of colonists. From the look of it, it had never been used in real combat, it was too clean.

Captain Yosef was a thin man with dark hair that added shadows to his pale face. It was a face that had spent too much time in cryo, or onboard a ship, and not enough time in the field, unlike Haas’ tanned face.

“Lieutenant, your request is denied for the last time,” Yosef said, a warning note in his voice. “If we are to engage in ship to ship hostilities, then we will be using Charlie Company with the powered armor, there is no need for you to train in it.”

“Captain,” Haas started.

“We are finished with this line of request lieutenant,” Yosef emphasized.

“Yes, sir,” Haas saluted.

“Get out of my sight.” He reclined in his custom seat and curled his lip at Haas, not bothering to return the salute.

Haas walked out of the room knowing very well why the captain was having Charlie Company use the powered armor. They were loyal to the captain, with their own officers attaining their positions because of the captain’s favors. They made him look good in the situations that looked hard, and that reflected well on their Regimental captain.

Alpha Company was filled with people that the captain didn’t trust, and Bravo consisted of gangs that worked well together. The Reclaimer crew were stuck in Bravo.

Fucking idiot, Haas thought as he made his way out of officer territory.

Bravo Company had been basically told as they left the system that they were on leave. Haas had turned that into training; they needed to work the kinks out. Most of the officers and non-Reclaimer people had turned it down, and had gone off to go do their own thing. A few had stayed.

The Reclaimer crew were reaching out to their old gang affiliations and quietly having people transferred out of Bravo and replacing them with others that were worth a damn and wanted to learn.

They had all been issued powered armor that was locked up in storage rooms across the Carrier. Bravo Company needed time to work in the armor, not only to maintain their skills, but to learn how to work with one another on a large scale.

Haas pulled up the textbook of tactics that Nerva had started and that Ortiz was now developing, with the help of the Reclaimer and Fearless Troopers.

He knew the situation going on in Dauntless, and there was little that he could do. It was infuriating.

A message jumped up over his reports, coming direct from General Jones.

Shit, Haas thought, opening the message. The sinking feeling in his gut was replaced with confusion.

Medals, really?

***

Mark saw the message pop up on his HUD, and he looked at it a few times to check that it was real, before grabbing his beret.

“Off for a beer, warrant?” Jane asked.

“Off to see the general,” Mark said, pulling his beret on. A small smile passed over his features at the confused look on her face.

He sent messages to the rest of the Triple-Two’s. It was a nickname that Haas and his Platoon had been given on Masoul and it had stuck. The people from Reclaimer still knew them as Triple-Two’s, the hard-nosed bastards that were willing to do anything to fuck up the Chosen’s day.

Tyler had already got the people gathered together, and they were moving through the halls amid an interested murmuring.

Mark caught up with the Reclaimer group, and they walked through the crowd, where a few people tried to make their life more annoying. They usually found a vicious kick or punch awaiting them, but the Reclaimer crew moved on like they hadn’t seen anything. These were slum rules; someone fucks with you, you throw it right back in their face or else they’ll do it again and again.

They moved out onto the flight deck which was clear of the coffins as it had been two weeks since they had said their last goodbyes to their fallen. Now, there was a grand stage with the command staff of the entire Carrier standing on it. People filed in, with officers organizing them into formations.

Floating cameras were moving around the flight deck, and a number of them were looking at the Reclaimer crew.

“Our fight against Harmony has been a long and hard one. Through it, many valued Troopers have died for the sake of the colonists’ protection. Let us not forget them,” General Jones said, sounding actually saddened as he bowed his head.

Good actor, Mark thought, wondering what the hell was going on.

“Through our challenges fighting Harmony, many of you have stepped up and gone well above your duty. Command has realized this, as have the people of Earth and Her Colonies. A bill has been passed by government, allowing me the privilege of bestowing medals to those who have served the EMF and the EHC proud.” General Jones looked out over the flight deck.

Troopers wearing a piece of white ribbon saying Osdal on it ran down, handing out identical ribbons. Mark got one for Sacremon and Masoul.

A ping registered on Mark’s implants, and from the way a number of people twitched, a good amount had also got the same message.

“Those of you who have received a message, please step forward and make a new formation,” General Jones said.

Aides who had been waiting to the sides moved in as a good half of the Troopers stepped forward. Small red ribbons with a bronze cross on them were slapped on people’s chests as the aides ran down the formations.

Mark looked at it in confusion.

“These medals are for your wounds that you received in the line of duty,” General Jones said.

Mark got another ping on his implants, and different people stepped forward and more moved back, leaving just the Triple-Two’s. They moved into a crisp formation, taking their old positions with Zukic and Haas in the front and the Section commanders standing in front of their people.

General Jones looked over the Troopers and back to his lectern. “This group infiltrated Masoul and Osdal, gathering vital intelligence, and causing chaos behind the enemy lines. It is due to their efforts that many of the people here are alive. If they hadn’t done their duty, then there would have been more coffins laying on this flight deck just a few weeks ago.” Aides came out with boxes. “For your service you have been awarded the Distinguished Service Medal.” The aides pinned a blue ribbon with a white and red slash on its center to the Triple-Two’s chests.

“Warrant Mark Victor, front and center,” General Jones said once the ribbons were pinned and the boxes with the more ornate looking star medal were in the Troopers’ pockets.

Mark walked up to the stage. Jones was taller than him and well built. Mark had more muscle mass but his smart clothes were large to hide that fact. Jones’ clothes were tight, to show the well crafted physique below.

A new box came out, this one with an ornate looking star on it with a red ribbon meant to hold it around his neck.

“For your services to the EMF and EHC, I present to you the Medal of Valor,” General Jones said, turning from his podium and gathering up the medal.

Mark bowed, the medal going over his head, and General Jones held his hand. Mark took it and shook it.

Mark knew that all these medals and fanfare were just political maneuvering. He wanted to rip the medals off and throw them away, but they were like his scars, another way to remember the people he had lost.

Buck up son and get it done, Mark heard the voice of his first Section commander, Sergeant Pullo, in his head, and he touched the Sacremon ribbon in memory. It was almost too much.

“Smile for the cameras, lieutenant,” General Jones said, turning and looking away from the stage, allowing the cameras dozens of angles.

Ah shit, Mark thought, knowing that the general hadn’t slipped up.

***

The medal ceremony passed and then promotions came down. Mark and the others had thought that they were only going to get the one, but it seemed that the powers that be wanted to use them as role models or some kind of shit.

Haas became a captain, Zukic was his second in command as Regimental sergeant major. Jerome was the lieutenant of Alpha Company, Mark got Bravo, and Tyler got Charlie.

Jerome looked at the new breakdown of the unit; on paper they were under strength. They’d begged, borrowed and stolen the people that they thought were worth a damn and thrown them into the Company. Few seemed to care what they were doing.

Haas was still trying to get time with powered armor, but nothing was working. It seemed all of Dauntless, except those that had stayed on the Carrier, were pissed at them for getting medals.

They were a target, and everyone was looking to make their lives difficult. The Troopers that the Company had pulled in seemed to understand this. A few weren’t happy being associated with the Reclaimer Regiment, but the majority understood that either they worked together or they were screwed.

Jerome had a room all to himself. It was an odd luxury, but most of the time he and the other officers of the Company hung out in Mark’s room, trying to get training sorted out and figuring out what the hell they were going to do with their new Company.

Right now, Jerome wasn’t working on anything that was related to the Troopers. Instead, he was looking at the reports coming from The Yard. Jane Costa had taken over running the place and she seemed to be doing well. Jerome had never talked to her, or seen her in person. Madeline seemed to have passed on The Yard’s secrets and Jane had sent him an update as soon as she was established.

He sent a message to her with the contact details of the Bandit Corporation, including information about all the contracts with the various processing crews and such. When the first Madeline-classed freighter made it to Osdal, then they wouldn’t just be working for the other companies. The Yard needed specialty materials and making them themselves was a big expense. The resources for the Madeline-classed freighter were astronomical, as it all came through companies.

With the Bandit Corporation, then The Yard would be able to get some processed materials a hell of a lot cheaper.

He created a new stipend for the Bandit Corporation, sent off paperwork for Jane to sort out, and then sent messages to the people in Bandit Corporation, from Felicia aboard Gold Runner to Carly who was running the fleet of ships and their mining equipment.

Jerome sighed, rubbing his eyes; they were tired from the surface’s light and from using his implants for so long.

Niemi, Dashtund, Ali, and Ko were all playing a game of Euchre on Mark’s desk. Mark was talking with Wes, the armorer that they’d stolen from the armories.

They had got together and started instituting the changes that were already happening on Fearless.

Every Section was an assault Section, but because none of them would be using the E-12 rifle, separating them into assault Sections and weapons detachments was useless.

Each Platoon was given a medic, and Haas was pushing for armorers. The powered armor was a complex machine, and a lot could go wrong with it. The Troopers were learning as much as possible, but the armorers lived and breathed the stuff. They could fix guns, exoskeletons or pretty much any of the tech that the Troopers had.

They each got an ammunition pack and a Repulsor like everyone else, but the lower half of their pack could be pulled off and opened up to show the tools inside.

Every Company got two techs who could make spray-ite barriers, carry around the heavy explosives to breach rooms, or blow up what was needed. They were also getting a Combat Shuttle on call at all times. It wasn’t official by any means, but Ortiz said that either they would have Dauntless’ shuttles, or the Fearless would supply them.

Haas wandered into the room. “Hey, boys and girls.” It had taken some time to get the other people from Reclaimer to get past their knee-jerk reaction to come to attention with a higher rank in the room.

The officers and warrants sitting around the living room waved and continued with their conversation.

“Ah fuck,” Dashtund said.

“What the hell did you go in with?” Ko asked as Niemie and Ali high fived, putting their cards on the table.

“Right, Bauer, a card of the same suit and two aces,” Dashtund said.

“Just let me put you on my back with no cards of suit,” Ko sighed, slumping back in his seat.

“The more things change the more they stay the same, friggin card rats,” Haas said with a smile as he grabbed a seat and sat facing the table, leaning back and moving his hands to open his implants.

“Any luck?” Jerome asked.

“Nope,” Haas said, flicking the air above his head and moving through screens only he could see.

Tyler walked into the room, and Alexis followed.

“We’re going into cold storage in a week,” Tyler said, cutting off any greetings.

It soured the mood immediately, but people kept going about their business. They needed time to integrate the units and people. It had been just days since they’d started working together, and it took longer than ten days to get a Company working as one.

“Looks like we’ll be hunting Harmony ships after all,” Mark said, him and Wes joining the circle forming around the main table.

The payout from capturing a freighter was nothing to sniff at, and they all had enough to retire on from what they had got from the freighter in Masoul.

Can’t spend credits if you’re dead though, Jerome thought.

“We know who is going to be used for the boarding operations?” Haas asked, looking to Tyler.

“No idea, I think we should be ready though; be an easy way to get rid of us,” Tyler said.

“Fucking Dauntless,” Jerome sighed.

“Let the medics know there’s some credits in it for them if they make sure to wake us up on time,” Haas said, looking to Medic Florence.

“I’ll pass it along,” Florence agreed.

“In the meantime, we continue with running our people through simulations wearing Repulsors and working as a powered armor Company. Second is fighting with the vibra-blades. Those Harmony bastards might get better armor, but hopefully they don’t get vibra-weaponry. It’s an advantage we need to press,” Haas said.

“Well, we might have another advantage,” Mark said, looking at Wes.

Everyone looked at the rotund man with pale skin, thick arms, and a severe expression.

“With the help of Mark, we were able to secure some materials that many people - other than the powerful corporations - don’t get.” Wes pulled out a round with a dark tip. “This is the Excalibur round. This puppy will penetrate the armor on the Chosen’s powered armor units. Once it penetrates, it twists and splits into lots of high powered fragmentation to churn up the poor bastard that went up against you.” He handed the round to Jerome, then took out more and put them on the desk. People grabbed them, looking at the odd striations down the rounds’ sides.

“Wouldn’t want to be getting hit by that,” Jerome said, putting the round down.

“Or a dozen of these,” Wes said, pulling out smaller rounds. They looked to be Repulsor rounds but they were made of a different material. “Repulsor rounds with a little know-how from the Ministry of Intelligence. These will take down someone in our modified powered armor with a decent enough burst,” Wes said proudly.

“Good. Hate it when they get up after I’ve put five rounds in their helmet, fucking freaky,” Dooks said.

There were sounds of agreement in the room.

“Well, this should even things out a little bit,” Tyler said, holding up the AMR round.

“I don’t think we’ll be as lucky as to go up against the metal storm and bolt action rifles from Osdal,” Mark said.

“No, but at least we’ll have something to put them down faster with, not just swords,” Jerome pointed out.

Mark nodded; none of them knew what the hell waited for them in Fernix. They needed every advantage they could pull out of their asses.

***

General Jones shook his head at Major Fernandez.

She was a loyal woman, one that was his firm supporter on Dauntless.

She was also now in charge of the Reclaimer Regiment that contained the most decorated Troopers in the entire EMF.

“Fernandez, I can’t allow you to have your people kill them. I know that they’re a pain in your ass and they’ve messed up the power balance, but without good cause we’re all going to be in the shit,” Jones said, looking her in the eye.

Her eyes thinned. She knew that he would have okayed having the Reclaimer Regiment have a few accidents when they got out of cryo to get rid of them and return balance to the Carrier, if he could.

She’s probably surprised that she had to come and ask me about it, instead of getting an order.

“Someone is watching them closely. Hell all of the CEOs are watching them closely. They have the greatest viewership of any group in the entire EMF. The CEOs love them, and some of our own Troopers have broken ranks and gone to fight with them! I’m hearing noises on other Carriers too. Those Fearless Troopers are some of the deadliest bastards I’ve ever seen. Their scores are well above the BM. The Reclaimer Troopers are careful to block all of the feeds while they’re training. I can only imagine that they are as bad as the Fearless bastards,” Jones took a breath, calming himself.

“All the more reason to kill them, and get the CEOs looking for other Carriers with the ability to put on a good show,” Fernandez said.

“The Ministry is watching them,” Jones said, watching as her posture changed from aggressive to thoughtful in an instant.

“Why?”

“Because someone has the ear of Nivad himself. I don’t know who it is, but it might be one of the Troopers, or it might be someone on Fearless. All I know is that they called in a strike on Mining City Twenty-One. I didn’t listen, and I got a message from Nivad Selvra himself.” A shiver ran down Jones’ back.

“Holy shit,” Fernandez said, the fight going out of her as her lightly tanned skin paled.

“Whoever they were, I could never trace back to them. They cut themselves out of official channels and the back doors I tried to use. They’re good, and they might know that I was looking for them,” Jones warned.

“This is getting better,” Fernandez sighed, shaking her head.

“Yeah, so if you plan for them to have accidents, you better damn well be sure that they won’t be traced back to us,” Jones said, his eyes holding hers.

But if it doesn’t come back to us, then we’ll be just fine.

“Yes, sir, understood,” she said, looking into his eyes, and understanding the thoughts behind his stare.

“In the meantime, we keep the armor out of their hands for as long as possible,” Jones said.

Chapter 6

EMFC Fearless

Heading for Fernix

12/3267

The situation was delicate.

Moretti wanted to help out his friends, but he also didn’t want to show who he was to more people than he needed to. There was also the fact that if anyone asked him for orders, then Moretti would have to run to Nivad to get clearance. Nivad wasn’t going to care about why people were training in powered armor or not.

What he was going to care about was why Moretti was so invested in having a group, that he had helped save, train in powered armor. It was not something that Moretti wanted the head of the ministry of intelligence thinking about.

So instead he bided his time, waiting for a report or something that would allow him to send an anonymous message to someone on Dauntless and get them to provide the Reclaimer Regiment with powered armor to train in. But it looked like the window for that was already diminishing. There was less than a week to go until they were all put into cryo for their trip to Fernix.

Moretti looked at the telemetry that the Carriers were tracking; they could see the engine trails of the freighters. With the projected routes it was easy enough to find them. It would take years to catch up with the ones headed to Fernix, but they could.

Moretti wished that they were in Fernix already. Harmony were just getting more time to build up their forces. The EMF got the same thing, as evidenced by the Carriers that were already starting to arrive outside of the system’s Oort cloud.

He sighed. He had a major’s cabin all to himself.

Daher’s hands found his chest. It was the middle of the night cycle and his worries had pulled him from his bed and from her.

“Come back to bed,” she murmured in his ear, tired and enticing.

Moretti thought to argue but he knew that he would get little done staying awake and staring at reports in the hope that he could change their cold analyses.

“Okay.” A swipe of his hand cut off the holograms around his desk and he allowed himself to be pulled back to bed.

Something was gnawing at him, he knew it was nerves and the knowledge that Fernix would be a battle the likes of which had not been since governments were in power on Earth.

Chapter 7

Legion Headquarters

Roma, Hellenic System

12/3267

Legate Nerva walked through the headquarters with purpose. The place had changed since he had last visited it. When he had first seen the headquarters, it was just red rock being carved into a building. Now, it was a sophisticated nerve center for the entire legion, that spanned over the union’s protectorate.

People walked around with holograms floating in front of them, elevators threw people up in the air and brought them down from the two hundred floors of the headquarters. Only forty of the floors were above ground.

Powered armor troops moved around the area in packs, changing or roving guards.

They weren’t the crude armor that the EMF or Harmony were using, it was powered with tech that was generations ahead of anything in Earth and Her Colonies. They weren’t just rough exoskeletons with armor slapped on, these were tried and tested war machines.

Nerva continued his walk, people turning and looking at him as he walked through the main foyer of The Legion headquarters and stepped into a lift.

It sent him flying downwards but it felt as if he was standing still. NIDenise had already input the destination and overlaid a route to Legate Aurelius’ office.

He stepped out of the lift and towards two legionnaires behind armored glass wearing powered armor. Nerva didn’t miss the murder holes in the glass.

“Please step into the scanner,” one of the legionnaires said through their armor’s speakers, indicating a tube with doors open to him.

Nerva sighed and stepped in. It whirred for a few moments, the door on the other side opening.

“Have a nice day, Legate,” the legionnaire said.

“You too, Legionnaire,” Nerva replied.

The place was a maze, filled with people walking around and not talking. Nerva found it weird, having been around people that needed to talk to communicate. Someone with a good control of their NIAI could think their words and sentences at one another.

The perfect silent communication. Few actually used it regularly, people liked talking too much.

Though these aren’t your regular people, you’re in spy territory now, Nerva thought to himself, arriving at Aurelius’ office.

The door opened as he reached it and Nerva stepped in. Immediately his old friend wrapped his arms around him in a bear hug.

“Watch it there, you might hurt something,” Nerva warned.

“Hurt something, how could I hurt the grand Legate Nerva, defender of Roma itself?!” Aurelius said, a wide smile on his face as he stood back and took Nerva in. “Keeping in good shape, I see.”

They were a good number of stories below ground but the screen showed the red stones, purple grasses and blue lakes of a country in one of Roma’s more exclusive underground caverns.

“Thank you, shall we get to work?” Nerva sat on the couch, taking an offered cigar from Aurelius’ hand.

“Feels like a lifetime ago that we last met face to face,” Aurelius lit Nerva’s cigar and then his own.

“For me it’s not nearly as long,” Nerva said, letting the fragrant smoke rise from his cigar.

“We didn’t all have the luxury of being in cryo-sleep for the majority of the last six hundred years. Damn, that’s enough to make anyone feel old!” Aurelius complained.

Nerva cracked a rare smile as he puffed on his cigar.

Chapter 8

EMFC Dauntless

Heading for Fernix

1/3268

Tyler and Alexis were both awake, holding onto one another and making the most of their remaining time.

A message came across their implants that it was time to get into the cryo-pods.

“Why do I have a bad feeling about this?” Alexis asked, her eyes focusing again as she looked back at Tyler.

“Because Fernix is one of the planets where Harmony came from; they’ve got solid supporters and they’re making a true military. One that has discipline and is liked by the people, instead of the sadistic twisted bastards that we’ve been dealing with on Masoul and Osdal,” Tyler said, sighing.

“Forgot to add that our own Carrier is actively trying to fuck us over,” Alexis added.

“Thanks, forgot about that one.”

“Well, we’ve got a few hours until we go into the freezer, so I’m going to take a shower and grab some food,” she said. Che, now Tyler's warrant, had been kind enough to give them a night to themselves.

Tyler watched Alexis walk to the shower, not a speck of smart clothing on her skin.

“Well? You coming, or am I going to have to wash by myself?” she asked.

He jumped out of bed and followed her into the shower. He sure as hell wasn’t going to let that invitation go to waste.

This married thing is awesome, he grinned to himself, Alexis laughing at his boyish joy.

***

Jerome opened his eyes to look at the damned pod that he was going to be stuck in for the next twenty-five years.

He rolled his shoulders in his armor; all of the Reclaimer Regiment were wearing their full armor, with helmets, ammunition packs, and their personal weapons attached to them.

If they were needed to attack another ship then they would be ready as soon as they came out of cryo, even if the ship wasn’t pressurized.

Jerome looked at the others getting into their pods, helmets on, as harnesses locked to their armor and pulled them in tight. Medics hooked lines up to their bodies and injected chemicals that would put them into a cryo-state.

“Once more into the freezer. I should get a new job,” Dashtund complained.

“Oh, shut up you big baby,” Dominguez said, pushing him lightly.

Dashtund grinned, swinging her to the side, like a dance move Jerome had seen in some old holovids.

“What!” Dominguez said, and Dashtund planted a kiss on her lips. She tensed, and then melted into his embrace.

Dashtund pulled her up again, beaming as the obstinate Dominguez turned an interesting shade of red.

“Jackass!” she said, punching him lightly, her other hand wrapped up in his.

“Ahhh, I feel better already!” Dashtund grinned.

The Triple-Twos and leaders of Reclaimer Regiment shook their heads.

“Bout time you two just came out and said you were together,” Alexis said, holding Tyler’s hand. “Means we can go on double dates now!” she beamed, but Tyler winced and Dominguez looked horrified.

“Oh, we have got to do some planning on that little idea,” Dashtund said.

“Haas!” A woman’s voice called out, one that the Triple-Twos knew well. They turned to see a smiling Second Lieutenant Young running through the spine.

Haas turned, part of the circle of leaders and Young jumped, wrapping her legs and arms around him and kissing the confused man.

She pulled away looking around at everyone, still a limpet on Haas’ armor.

“Heya, guys,” she smiled victoriously, and Haas blushed deeply.

“Hey, Young,” Jerome said, the others greeting her with nods and smiles.

“Triple date?” Dashtund asked.

“Well, that is an idea,” Alexis nodded, her thoughtful look turning into a mischievous grin.

“All of your Troopers are sealed in their pods,” a medic said to the group.

“See you on the other side,” Mark said, pulling his helmet on, sealing it and heading for his pod. The other leaders seemed to take that as their signal.

Jerome pulled his helmet on, and the smart cloth on his neck sensed the helmet, snaking up to connect with it to make a full body seal.

He followed Mark, the two of them walking in silence.

“See you on the other side bro,” Mark said stepping backwards into his pod, and pulling the harness down around him.

“You too,” Jerome breathed as he walked, clearing his head. The next time he woke up, they would be fighting Harmony’s Chosen.

Chapter 9

Fabrication Plant Four

Fernix Prime, Fernix System

5/3270

Akani looked over the moon as it passed below; it had more people living on it than all of Fernix Prime which it orbited. It was a rocky land mass, with a lower gravity than Fernix Prime. The whole surface was covered in factories that machined out specialist parts for every type of ship. It still produced a number of ships’ parts, but many of the sprawling factories below were manufacturing ammunition, weapons, powered armor, and the tools of Harmony’s war.

The shuttle came down to land on Fabrication Plant Four. Six of the massive factories made up the entire surface of the moon, which had been turned into a cube.

Akani checked his suit and walked out of the shuttle as its ramp came down. He was used to the magnetic boots that kept him attached to the planet’s surface.

A grim looking man bowed as Akani stepped onto the landing pad.

“Come, Charlie, let us get this done,” Akani said.

“Yes, sir.” Charlie’s voice was deep and gravelly. He wore a black spacesuit with built in armored plates, and red accent lines cut up the space suit, making the man wearing it appear fierce and deadly, as if his large stature wasn’t enough to give that away.

“How is production?” Akani asked, moving towards the airlock that led away from the landing pad and into the factory.

Six Chosen, wearing powered armor with the same color pattern as Charlie, moved in around Akani, forming a circle of protection. Few knew that Akani was Fernix’s head of Harmony; that was what the politicians were for.

Charlie was one of the few people who knew Akani’s real identity, and he was also the commander of the Chosen forces on the Blue Moon.

“Everyone is meeting their quotas, most are exceeding. Having the EMF coming for us has lit a fire under their asses,” Charlie said.

“Good. What about the weaponry?” Akani asked.

“The heavy machine guns should punch through the powered armor plating, the bolt action rifles certainly will. The metal storm, we’ve added in the burst function so people don’t unload in one go. It’s pretty much useless on the powered armor, so we’ll be giving them modified bolt action rifles with large magazine capacities, with metal storm rifles for if they come upon non-powered armor wearing Troopers.” Charlie walked with Akani into the airlock, and it quickly cycled and they stepped out into the factory. Akani opened his mask, smelling the metal and heat of a functioning factory, an aroma he always associated with productivity.

“The launchers?” Akani asked.

“We’ve had some success with them, but for the most part they’re fucked.” Charlie sent Akani a video, and he saw someone with a tube on their shoulders which was pointed at a suit of powered armor. They fired the rocket and it promptly exploded, the person disappearing.

“After that we started using dummies to fire the weapon system,” Charlie said.

“Will we have anything functional by the time the Troopers get here?”

“Probably, but I don’t know how effective it will be. I was hoping to get something like a tracking ability in the holovids to take down the Combat Shuttles,” Charlie shrugged at his own words.

“Very well, what about the space forces?” They were walking through the production area keeping within the yellow lines. Workers looked up as they passed, saluting. Akani smiled and returned the gesture. His dour looks returned as soon as they were back in automated areas of the factory.

“They’re going to make the EMFC’s lives living hell,” Charlie promised, his smile anything but kind.

“Good,” Akani said, pulling up the newest reports on Harmony’s own Carriers, the fighters they held and their armaments. There would be ten of them completed by the time the EMF reached Fernix.

“I never understood those EMFC’s just armoring their freighters on one side. They even have their bridge on the outside. We’ll smash the bastards,” Charlie promised.

“I will hold you to that, Charlie.”

“Yes, sir.” Charlie accepted the challenge with a slow smile.

Chapter 10

SLS Savior

Heading for the Crecy System

7/3279

It had taken Nerva years to get away from Roma, and when he returned he’d been treated like some kind of celebrity coming back from the grave. He hated it, and turned to training with new legions that went through The Legion headquarters.

He had built up connections within the legions and he met up with those that were still remaining. It had taken a lot of maneuvering, but he was finally going out with a reinforcing legion to help a human-occupied system repel their Maraukian invaders.

It would take a matter of months to cross a distance that would have taken him centuries while asleep in cryo with Earth’s Military Force.

“Well, this is looking more fucked every time I see it,” Nerva said to himself as he looked through the EMF’s information. They had quantum computing, but for AIs there was little protection against their interest.

“It is quite the mess,” NIDenise agreed. Things were still not the best between the two of them, but they both inhabited the same body, so they had come to a new relationship.

“Yeah, so far other Carriers have taken freighters, but Dauntless is up next and it looks like they’re all trying to get rid of the Reclaimer Regiment,” Nerva sighed, rubbing his face.

While it had been years since he had last seen the people from Reclaimer, it had been weeks for them. There was no denying his feelings, he had never had children or taken a wife; he, like Aurelius, had turned his life towards serving The Legion, to helping his brothers and sisters in arms. That had taken him to Earth’s Military Forces.

At first he had hated his work, but after a while he’d started to work with the people of the EHC. He wanted to recruit people that were good at fighting and smart. A number of dead Troopers ended up serving as legionnaires.

While training them, he became close to them, none of them closer than the Victors. Mark, Tyler, and Jerome were the sons he’d had never had, Alexis his daughter.

He cared for them, hell, he cared for everyone in his division, he’d got to know them and that was what made watching their battle so hard.

He knew what was coming, and it could change Earth and Her Colonies forever.

A new report came across his vision; the Reclaimer Regiment was being woken up to capture a freighter. There would be five more freighters before they reached Fernix, it would slow them by two years but when they got there, the rest of the assembled fleet would be moving into the system.

Another report entered his vision. The scouting vessels that Nivad had commissioned had found Harmony’s FTL node outside of Masoul.

Why did they have a scouting vessel? Nerva thought.

“Unknown, but four others were sent out to scout the Luyten system and the other uninhabited star systems within twenty light years of Earth,” NIDenise supplied.

“What happened with the others?” Nerva asked.

“They were captured with the majority of their crew in cryo. They are now sending Nivad false reports on what is in that area. As the ships go a fault will be found in their manufacture and they will start disappearing. The crews were recruited into The Legion and are being watched by Aurelius’ people,” NIDenise said, answering questions he hadn’t yet thought of. It was times like these when Nerva thought that she knew him better than he knew himself. It was also eerie as hell.

“Alright, that’s enough looking at the past,” Nerva said, standing. “Show me the holograms of the planet Cela in the Cerey system and send out an invitation to all of the leaders from Centurion above for an informal dinner.” Nerva tried to push the thoughts of the EMF away.

“Yes, legate,” NIDenise paused, catching up on his thoughts. “They’ll be okay,” she said, trying to reassure him.

“They’re already not, Mark’s broken, I’ve seen it too many times before. He will fight and so will the rest, but Fernix will be their hardest battle yet, even with the extra sixty-seven Carriers,” Nerva said, not saying the words aloud, lest they might come true.

Chapter 11

EMFC Dauntless

Freighter Vera

7/3279

Mark woke up in his cryo-pod and the door was closed. He checked his implants and his augments. He had a message that ordered him and the rest of the Reclaimer Regiment to assault and take a freighter.

Mark twitched his triceps, his blade falling into his hand, and he turned it around, the small blade on the hilt pointing at the glass door. He pressed a button on the blade to make it vibrate slightly. He pushed it through the glass of the cryo-pod and cut a hole for his hand to fit through, then he cut upwards, clearing room for his arm to get out.

He turned the vibrating function off and grabbed the handle at the side of his pod and pushed it down, opening his pod. He stepped out as someone else shot their pod. Troopers that had been laughing and watching winced and ducked as the Reclaimer Regiment got out of their cryo-pods, shooting, cutting or smashing them open.

Mark went down the length, pulling on handles and opening up any of the Troopers that weren’t able to find their own way out.

Haas got out, and Mark could see the anger in his face as he shook glass off his armor.

“Want me to take care of them - wouldn’t take long,” Mark said on his speakers, tapping the pistol on his left hip.

The Troopers that had been recording, trying to make asses of the Reclaimer Regiment, quickly got the idea and fucked off.

“Remember their names for later,” Haas said, slapping Mark’s shoulder.

“Will do, sir.”

“Get your people moving to the armories, I want everyone wearing powered armor soon as possible. Check out the situation, we’ll do a briefing in fifteen,” Haas said over the Platoon officer channel.

Waz, Ko, and Niemi, Mark’s Platoon officers, got their people organized and moving. Mark trailed behind them, checking the information on the freighter they were approaching.

“Ko, go and make sure the Combat Shuttle pilots are good,” Mark said.

“On it.” Ko took a Section and went off down the spine to where the Combat Shuttle crews cryo-pods were. “They’re all stuck in their pods, opening them now,” Ko said.

“Understood,” Mark said, opening a channel with Haas.

“They fucked with our Combat Shuttle’s crew as well,” Mark said.

“Fucking idiots. Alright, we’re going to check all of our gear, including the Combat Shuttles. We’re not going until everything is one hundred percent. These bastards have had years to fuck with our shit,” Haas said.

“Understood, I’ll pass it on,” Mark said, typing out a message through his implants and fingers, and sending it to the officers.

“We’re not getting armor, apparently they’re undergoing maintenance,” Tyler said over the command channels.

“Then we do it in normal armor,” Zukic said.

“Yes, RSM.”

Mark moved with his Platoon, filing past a weapons rack of E-12 rifles. Mark pulled one off, checking it over. The Troopers slapped on the extra attachments they’d gathered through the years to make them better killers. Mark put his own on and headed out onto the flight deck. The Combat Shuttle crews were just entering the deck and moving to their craft.

Mark could tell from the way they were walking they weren’t happy.

An alert came from higher, and they had ten minutes to get loaded up and headed for the freighter. Thankfully, they’d at least come to their senses through a gradual awakening, instead of the sudden pull from cryo like in Masoul.

The augments were taking off the edge that came with waking up from cryo.

“There’s no way that we’re going to have these shuttles checked over and ready to fly in ten minutes,” Lieutenant Yu, the Triple-Two’s usual pilot said. He was now in charge of all the Combat Shuttles that transported the Reclaimer Regiment.

“Until you give the all clear we’ll take a nice sit down,” Haas said. “I want everyone to break their weapons down and put them back together. Full diagnostic on your helmet and your boots. Anything you think that someone could have fucked with while we were in cryo, I want checked,” Haas didn’t sound like he was pleased with the order.

“Have them checked by the primary user and their buddy just in case,” Mark said to Dominguez, Ko, Niemi, and Waz.

Green lights went across his HUD. They found a few issues, enough to know that someone had been messing with their shit, and wanted to make them look bad. The armorers moved around checking people’s gear, and the medics checked people’s vitals and they were cleared to go. The flight window came and went.

Haas called a briefing, warrants and above grouping around him.

“Okay, you’ve all looked at the freighter’s plans. Alpha Company, I want you to hit the command area, Bravo you have the cryos, Charlie take out the people flying the damned thing,” Haas said, looking from Jerome to Tyler and Mark.

The three Platoon leaders greened up, sending a confirmation signal to Haas without having to say anything.

“I want your people to look through the plans, get them to know where they’re hitting. Quick and fast so they don’t have time to react,” Haas said.

Mark and the others greened up again.

“Let’s get to it.”

The Troopers had memorized the areas they were to attack and more by the time the Combat Shuttle crews started sealing their ships up, happy they wouldn’t fuck up mysteriously.

“Alright we’re good to go, flight control’s having a fit right now with us not launching in the right flight window,” Yu said.

Mark had seen enough parts replaced and fixes made by the Combat Shuttle crews that he was happy they’d done the full check. Flying on a Combat Shuttle that had been fucked with, in between solar systems, was not his idea of a good fucking time.

“You heard the man, get loaded up!” Haas shouted.

Mark walked with his people; it was a lonely position being an officer, he had to make the big decisions. Sure, he had his Platoon officers, but they were busy seeing to their Troopers.

“You ready to go and take a freighter?” Jerome sounded bored.

“Ready as I’m ever going to be,” Mark said, stepping onto a Combat Shuttle, and taking a seat next to the door so he was first out.

“Wish we had armor,” Jerome sighed.

“Might not do us much good, these freighters are smaller than our Carriers. A lot easier to concentrate fire on a PA-wearing Trooper than one running around in their base armor,” Tyler added.

“Fair point,” Jerome said.

“I just wish we were in Fernix, these freighters are just slowing us down,” Mark said.

“Allows the EMF get more ships into position. They’ll only have been there a year before we show up and move into the system,” Tyler said. The Combat Shuttles’ ramps closed as the landing pads dropped, heading for the hangar blisters on the Carrier’s underside.

“Yeah, but it gives those fuckers more time to build up their military,” Mark pointed out, the ambient noise of the Combat Shuttle drifting away as the air was pulled out of the shuttle.

“We’ve had the argument more times than I can count, it’s gonna happen the way it’s gonna happen, can’t do nothing about it,” Jerome said, wading into the conversation.

“Doesn’t mean that it sucks any less,” Che added.

“No, that it don’t,” Zukic said.

“Good for launch.” The hangar door opened, and the twelve Combat Shuttles pushed off their landing pad.

“Those motherfuckers. I’ve been welded to the deck!” one of the Combat Shuttle pilots said.

“Just ripped off my front left landing strut,” another added.

“Continue the operation, we’ll deal with the Combat Shuttle issues later,” Haas instructed.

Mark felt the hot anger in his gut as ten shuttles pushed out of the hangar.

“These fuck heads are playing with lives,” Dashtund said.

“We make them look bad, they want to get rid of us,” Alexis explained.

No one else said anything after that; they all agreed with her.

Mark checked his HUD - just a few minutes until they closed with the freighter.

“Get your minds in the game, focus on the freighter,” Zukic said.

Green lights covered Mark’s HUD, his own joining them.

“Alright, you all know your jobs, you’ve got the training and the Troopers on either side of you to get this done,” Haas said, Regiment-wide.

Mark checked his harness and watched as the distances between the Combat Shuttle and the freighter dropped.

It was a normal bulk freighter, the same model used throughout Earth and Her Colonies, one of hundreds of thousands that were the lifeblood of the EHC.

It was a series of containers secured to a system of catwalks with powerful engines to the rear with solar sails fanning out around it, armored bulwark to the front, and living quarters on the relative top of the freighter. When loading it came in ‘upside down’ for ease of loading and unloading.

The solar sails made it so that the freighter wouldn’t have known that the Carriers were even behind it, and any sensors pointing in the wake of the freighter’s engines were blocked by the solar sails. They were using them as cover as they caught up with the freighter.

“Passing over the solar sails, say hello to the freighter Vera,” Yu said.

Mark felt the shuttle come down over the solar sail and turn around to cut their forward acceleration, matching the freighter’s.

The harnesses snapped upwards.

“On your feet!” The cargo master barked. Troopers had their rifles and Repulsors strapped to them as they grabbed the hand rails above the aisles to steady themselves. Mark got a clear and unobstructed view as the ramp started opening before they touched down.

They were facing the forward Sections of the freighter; it was marked with micro-meteor impacts and use. Light from the shuttle’s engines bathed the area in blue light, Mark’s helmet dimming against it.

The shuttle settled onto a container and Mark could see other shuttles coming down around them.

“Go!” the cargo master called, and Mark let go of the rail and pulled his E-12 free, pushing out of the Combat Shuttle.

There was so little gravity it barely registered. Mark got low and used the magnetic pads in his boots to push himself along, as if he was jumping up a cliff.

It was eerie listening to only his breath as he moved. There were no sounds other than his feet moving as he rushed out of the shuttle and turned around to face the living area that the shuttle was pointed at.

He checked his HUD; the companies were all moving for entry points that would allow them the best access to their targets. He picked two entry points into and around the bridge, and sent them to his Platoons. His HUD cleared as he continued to move.

A few people were going Dutchman, spinning off into the void of space, and a Combat Shuttle had been detailed to take care of them. Mark didn’t want to think about spinning off wildly into space.

“Mark, let Two Platoon take point,” Niemi said.

“Sorry, Niemi, used to being first in,” Mark said, cutting his pace so that the two Sections he was with could get in front of him.

“I know, sarge,” Niemi said.

Mark grinned in his helmet. He was okay at being an officer, but he really missed being a sergeant; small unit tactics, being on the front, not sitting back and letting other people take lead while he decided objectives and overall direction.

“Very well, corporal,” Mark said, getting a laugh back from Dominguez, Niemi, and Ko. Waz hadn’t spent enough time around to understand it yet.

Three Platoon’s two and four Section’s techs unlocked the airlock with their gadgets, their Sections rushing into the bridge. Weapons fire came out as the first Troopers stepped in the doorway, and two greens turned red and yellow on Mark’s HUD, but other greens were already in the bridge.

The red halos of enemy combatants disappearing, shone.

Without atmosphere, those two wounded could turn into dead in seconds.

The Troopers cleared the bridge and moved on.

“Dominguez, get a casualty area going,” Mark said as he moved into the bridge coming down on his feet. The gravity was on and more Troopers were rushing in.

“Use the airlock, need to get these Troopers stable,” a medic called out.

“Niemi, seal the airlock. Waz try entry on second point, we’ll make the bridge a casualty area,” Mark said as green lights appeared on his HUD.

He moved through the bridge; it was simple with one captain’s chair and two chairs for communications and helm. Five bodies were on the floor. The wounded Troopers had been pulled off to one side and they weren’t looking too good after a few minutes of being exposed to vacuum with some nasty wounds.

“Niemi, report,” Mark said, Ko’s people coming in through the airlock.

“We’ve got some Chosen, look to be rattled up. Moving through the awake crew’s quarters,” Niemi said.

“Good.” Bravo Company was in the engine compartments, clearing them, which was a large undertaking in an area that big.

Alpha Company was moving like a plasma cutter through butter, going straight from their entry point into the living quarters, to the cryo-pods four levels below where the crew not on duty were resting.

“Second entry point secured, moving for the kitchen area and offices,” Waz said.

“If Waz has those areas I’m good to move to the second deck,” Niemi said.

“I’m good to support her,” Ko said.

“Do it,” Mark said, moving out of the bridge and heading for the second deck’s entryway down into the remaining living areas, and the heart of the freighter.

He found himself in a corridor, a Section following him.

When you fight close quarters it don’t matter who you are, Mark heard Nerva’s voice, happy to be fighting instead of HUD watching.

Mark kept his rifle up as he walked forward, and someone moved up ahead, too fast for the HUD to pick up. Mark held off on firing until a metal storm rifle came around the corner, then he fired into the wall where the shooter must be, before they even had a chance to pull the trigger.

He never stopped moving, advancing upwards as the gun dropped to the floor followed by a body.

“I’ve got longshot,” someone said behind Mark, watching the length of the corridor as Mark turned and looked into the supply closet where the shooter had been.

No targets jumped out at him and he advanced, moving around food stuffs in crates which filled the area.

Mark turned along the crates as they stopped, and the Chosen fired as he turned the corner. Mark fired back, cutting the Chosen down.

Mark made to move forward and found that his left leg had failed him. He went sprawling, still keeping his rifle up and aiming down the crates.

“I’ve been hit,” Mark sighed, the pain coming in a burst.

“Medic! Moving up!” A Trooper stepped around Mark, moving into the crates, and more followed them, allowing Mark to start spraying himself back together.

He rolled over and saw he’d been hit in the side of the leg and his stomach. He was also bleeding from the inner thigh. He sprayed the outer wounds, sealing them up.

A medic rushed to him, pulling out their bigger medical kit.

“Possible artery in the left leg,” Mark said, getting his gear out of the medic’s way. It wasn’t the first time he’d been shot. The pain was really annoying now that the initial adrenaline had worn off and the augments’ battle chemicals were being switched over to other drugs to keep him alive and functional.

The medic examined it, pulling out tongs.

“Ah shit,” Mark said laying back and looking at the ceiling, dialing up his pain meds and looking at his HUD to take his mind off his artery.

His augments were keeping him alert and functional, but the medic needed to get ahold of the artery that had been pulled back up into his leg, or he would die of blood loss.

“Come her,e you fucker, just come to mommy,” the medic cooed.

“Please stop talking to my artery like that,” Mark said through gritted teeth.

“Shut up and let me… oh, you sneaky fucker.”

Bravo Company had cleared the engine areas out, Alpha had the cryo-pods under control and they were moving to assist Charlie in securing the rest of the living quarters. They owned the freighter, they just had to make sure there were no rats left.

“Got it!” The medic said triumphantly. Mark didn’t feel too hot with the blood loss. His augments were doing everything they could to supply him with more blood.

The medic kept messing around in his leg as someone took a knee by Mark’s head.

“Hey, boss how yah doing?” Ko asked, sounding worried.

“I have someone using fucking kitchen implements in my goddamn leg, and I can fucking feel it,” Mark snapped, looking at the second lieutenant. “You linked up with Alpha Company yet?”

“Yeah, Jerome’s coordinating,” Ko said, glancing at Mark’s leg.

Mark tilted his head down, looking at the medic who was covered in blood. She was doing something in his leg.

Mark laid back down. “Hope my balls are alright.”

***

“Mark got hit, but he’s good to go,” Ko said on the command channel.

“Just a bit low on the old blood count,” Mark added.

“Will you stop getting shot?” Alexis sighed.

“Glad you’re okay,” Tyler said. Green lights filled Tyler’s HUD as the others agreed.

“Making me blush, guys. Captain, orders?” Mark said, putting them back on mission.

“Good to know you’re okay, lieutenant. Bravo, I want you to start pulling out with the wounded and anyone left in the cryo-pods, I think M will want to have a few words with them on Fearless. Alpha and Charlie can clear the remainder of the living quarters. Once that’s done, I’m going to send word to the Carrier that we have secured the freighter. Alpha, I want a Platoon for security once the freighter is cleared; transfer back once the EMF’s flight crew takes over the ship,” Haas said.

Tyler and the other officers greened up.

“Well let’s get this wrapped up,” Haas said.

There weren’t any other Chosen left alive on the freighter. Tyler had medics pull the Chosen out of cryo with minimal recovery time, and they looked like crap as they were stuffed into space suits and cuffed.

The Troopers dragged them out onto the waiting Combat Shuttles. The two wounded Troopers had already been transported back to Dauntless, with one needing priority medical aid.

Mark didn’t need to be immediately evacuated. His artery was reattached, sealed and then the leg closed up with sealant. Some needles, a patch of smart cloth, and he was airtight and mobile. He would need a bit of time in the medical bay to finish it off, but he was good.

Tyler was the last of his Company to leave.

The replacement crew was already being shipped over by the time he landed.

Mark came with the last of his Company as well; he was limping and there was blood everywhere, but he was alive.

“You are an idiot,” Tyler sighed, putting an arm under Mark’s shoulder and taking some of the weight off his leg, helping him through the hangar’s airlock and to a lift to get patched up.

“Shit happens, man. Thank God for medics and drugs. Should probably apologize to the one that put me back together,” Mark grumbled.

“What did she do to you except keep you alive?” Tyler said, his voice taking on an edge.

“Used tongs in my damned leg to find my artery. Don’t get shot in the leg, bro,” Mark advised.

Tyler sighed and shook his head, it was funny, but Tyler knew how bad an arterial bleed was. Mark’s drugs had fought the blood loss and kept him active, but he could have easily died.

This is what we signed up for, to be Troopers, the corporations’ enforcers. Some days he wished he had just turned around and left the Citadel.

Tyler looked to his Company and Regiment as they walked in from their shuttles.

And some days you don’t know how you could do anything but be a Trooper.

“Let’s get you to medical before we get stuffed right back into cryo,” Tyler said.

“Next stop, Fernix,” Mark said, and some of the heat and hatred that had come from his time on Osdal was audible in his words.

Chapter 12

System Freighter Kelas

Oort Cloud, Housapel System

1/3283

Luke woke from his cryo-pod slowly, his body responding perfectly as he walked out and into his room. The medical personnel that had revived him took their gear and left, and his security guards followed them out.

Luke checked his reports and the ship’s progress; they were just a few weeks from Housapel Prime.

Soon I’ll be back with educated and socialized people, instead of the apes and idiots of Osdal, he thought. The two decades that it had taken him to reach Housapel felt like minutes as he ordered a meal from his private chef. That done, he sent a message to the head of Harmony, Peter Quinn himself, making sure it was through one of the secure messaging systems.

The freighter Kelas would not be heading straight into Housapel, not even her materials were to be known by the people of the system. Instead, she was going to a region of space where there should be nothing but a thick gathering of asteroids in Housapel’s Oort Cloud.

Luke took a deep breath, tensions leaving him as he smiled.

He was home; here power was not brutally enforced but rather politically maintained. He had played his part out and for it his reward would be great.

With Kelas’ arrival, the last pieces for Peter Quinn’s plan would be put into place.

Chapter 13

Tower

Earth, Sol System

6/3294

Nivad had been in and out of these conference rooms for decades now.

He looked out at the people around the table; many of them were different faces, but the intelligence heads of Osdal and Masoul were still there, Dalia and Wallace still sat on either side of Nivad. The EMF delegation had gone through a number of changes in the years.

“Let us begin shall we?” Nivad said, looking to the intelligence head of Osdal.

The bald man bowed his head to Nivad. “As you all know, the fighting in Osdal finished around twenty years ago, and the system is starting to get back to its normal production levels. A number of companies have started up to fill a void that the Osdal Partnership has been unable to do, due to their travel time. All of the freighters captured so far have been bought with their contents and sold off. The two Earth Military Force Carriers are rotating Troopers on and off duty to mitigate operational costs.”

“Masoul,” Nivad said.

“The system has recovered and they are working to fix up the shipping station once again. Freighters are moving to and from Masoul. Harmony seem to have the majority of the freighters in the sphere under their control. Keeping up with demand is hard on the economy, and we are starting to see the issues now. There are fewer people with higher classed goods, more with simplistic ones,” Masoul said.

“Dalia, would you like to talk about timeline?” Nivad asked.

“Certainly,” Dalia looked at the rest of the table. “As it stands, we believe it will take the sphere a century or two to recover. In that time, we are going to have issues all across the board, most notably in places furthest from the sphere. Like Earth.” She let this sink in. Nivad continued to look at her but was really studying people out of the corner of his eye.

“Companies that are in Sol are slowly starting to make more freighters as we put out incentives. We need to speed that up as much as possible as we should assume that Fernix will not be producing ships for a couple of decades.

“Which brings me to another point about colonies and their attempts to monopolize one sector. Having looked over the information from Harmony’s rebellion, we need more systems able to make things in different sectors. One system one product has shown its ugly head. If we can foster new growth, we can also open up colony drives again, shifting our population out to the colonies and reducing the drain on the shipments arriving in-system,” Dalia said, her eyes moving back to Nivad.

“Understood, I want a report on that,” Nivad said.

He already had it, but it emphasized the importance to the others in the room.

“Certainly, sir,” Dalia said, making a note on her surface.

“Wallace?” Nivad asked.

“Within the week the fleet assembled to attack Fernix will cross the system’s Oort Cloud. The fleet at Housapel will also enter their system. We hope to hit both systems at once, to create the most confusion. The forces at Housapel will have reinforcements coming in for the next fifteen years as the later model Carriers were fitted with higher powered drives. If needed, they can be diverted to help against the forces in Fernix,” Wallace said.

“Good. How are we looking on the broadcast network?” Nivad looked at Alice, the head of communications within Earth and Her Colonies. The woman had plain features with her brunette hair pulled back in a severe bun.

“We have the highest subscription rate ever seen, and every system is watching the events of Fernix. Many people are re-watching the fighting in Mining City Twenty-One. The released content from Masoul, with the Triple-Twos hitting the Chosen from behind, was a hit. People are all looking for Mark Victor’s feed. They haven’t been happy with the lack of content, with only one boarding action in some twenty-seven years. We’ve been showing the old footage for the last few months. People are excited to see Earth’s Military Forces destroy Harmony,” Alice said, barely a flicker of emotion on her face.

“Then I guess we only have to sit back and watch the show,” Nivad said, tapping his fingers on the table. They were so close to the end of it all.

The biggest thing that annoyed him was that he didn’t know who the leaders of Fernix and Housapel were. They had to be there, but the politicians’ smoke screen hid them well. It was why Earth and Her Colonies still had a government, to give the people someone to blame and a body to come down on them. Separating them from companies who were pulling the strings but wanted to appear good and untarnished to their consumers.

Not many people wanted to buy goods from the people that were taxing, arresting, and policing them.

Maybe they’ll be lucky and escape me, but even if they do, the Troopers won’t have mercy on them, he thought. The order had gone out: all except Harmony’s prisoners were to be killed. There was no knowing who the leaders were, or who truly believed in Harmony. So Nivad needed to clear house.

Chapter 14

HC Bulwark

Patrol Fernix System

6/3294

Admiral Zeichner was an older looking woman, more regal than beautiful, with her hair cut short and out of the way. Her black and red accentuated Harmony uniform emphasized her power.

She was admiring the Fernix system on the center holo as alerts started coming in; the sensor network was picking up inbound targets.

Her seat was to the rear of the command center, and her aides were positioned around the main holographic display, with secondary personnel along the walls.

“Admiral, we have fourteen plus objects entering system, and the number is growing,” Baike, one of her close friends and communications aides reported, just like if they were in a simulation.

“Make sure that General Ando is alerted, and bring the fleet to full readiness. I want a course plotted to the EMF fleet and another to Fernix Prime’s orbit,” Zeichner said, calm and controlled even as she felt her heartbeat in her ears and her adrenaline pumping through her veins.

“I want a time estimate and flight plan for the incoming fleet.” The fourteen had risen to thirty-one and more sensor ghosts were appearing.

“Yes, ma’am,” Navigator Wazny said, and moments later a line was leading from the Earth Military Carriers to Fernix Prime.

“From their power outputs these ships look like they’ve been hiding outside of the Oort Cloud,” Wazny said.

“How long until they reach Fernix Prime?”

“Two and a half weeks at their current rate of speed, I don’t know their thrust output, so it’s an estimate.”

“Very well, get me a channel with General Ando,” Zeichner said.

Moments later and the hologram of Fernix system was replaced by General Ando of Harmony’s Chosen ground forces.

He was a young looking man, with long hair tied back in a braid. Grey hairs were visible in his goatee beard. While he had the body of a twenty-year-old, he was well over eighty.

“Admiral,” Ando said in greeting. The two of them butted heads, but they understood and respected each other’s abilities.

“My aim is to go out and engage the Earth Military Forces’ Carriers at my best speed. My hope is to weaken and throw them into chaos before they attempt a landing on Fernix,” Zeichner said.

“Understood. I wish you best luck Admiral. We will stay in contact. I am stepping up the ground force units, so we’ll be ready for the bastards when they come down,” Ando promised.

“Understood; good hunting, general.”

“You too, admiral,” Zeichner said, cutting the channel. “Have us move to intercept the enemy fleet. Wazny, get me a time estimate on how long until we cross their formation. If we have enough time, I’d like to do a simulation.”

Now that she saw the enemy, all she wanted to do was close with them and get the whole thing over with. The weeks it would take would be a practice in patience.

Chapter 15

Revival City

Housapel Prime Housapel System

6/3294

Peter Quinn looked up from his desk, drinking his coffee as reports came in about Earth Military Forces Carriers entering the system.

Housapel’s news networks were buzzing with the news. Quinn looked at different reports coming from the Harmony military and everything looked to be proceeding as planned.

The numbers put the EMFCs at sixty strong and, judging by their trajectory, they had come directly from Earth.

The CEO messages started coming in moments later, all looking for assurances that they and their possessions were secure. Peter consoled and assured them, inviting them to a war party at his home to take their minds off the events.

We’re the rich and wealthy, nothing can happen to us! Peter thought with a smile, putting his coffee down and heading out into his living area.

“Good day, Bodro,” Peter said to his head of security, a dull man who kept his mouth shut and knew how to quietly eliminate Peter’s rivals.

“Sir,” Bodro said nodding to his patron.

“Are we set for our expedition?” Peter asked.

“Yes sir, Admiral Hawking is ready to get a move on. Admiral Gorbachek is holding his leash and moving his forces to intercept the incoming EMF Carriers, as per our original plans.”

“Very well, I will be having a party in two days, see that things are arranged. Check with Admiral Hawking as to when we will be boarding.”

“Certainly, sir,” Bodro said, standing and leaving the room. Peter stepped out onto his balcony. Special bafflers stopped the air from whipping at his clothes and air jets made it so he could breathe properly.

He looked out over Revival; air cars and traffic weaved between the buildings, shuttles dropped and climbed from the orbiting facilities. Peter used his implants to track down the fleet that was holding in orbit. The three-hundred-meter-long ships were hidden by the cloud cover, but they were up there, ready and waiting to attack the Earth Military Forces.

Fernix had fourteen Harmony Cruisers, Housapel had fifteen in their main fleet.

Though the real fleet only has nine. Peter felt a smile cross his lips.

“Soon I’ll take a nap and wake up with all of this mess over.” He looked over Housapel again, taking in the view he had seen for more than a hundred and fifty years. It would be one of the last times he did.

He turned and walked back into his apartment, sending a message to Miss Choi. She was a rare gem in the CEO circles, and an unrivaled lover.

“Peter, my dear, what may I do for you?” she purred in his ear.

“I’m feeling rather vigorous and I have a function I need to plan for,” Peter said.

“I’ll be over within the hour,” she said, and a shiver of excitement ran down Peter’s back.

“I look forward to it,” Peter said.

“So do I.”

Maybe I should take her with me to Earth. Peter’s smile widened, the last phases of his plan were coming into play.

Chapter 16

EMFC Dauntless

Fernix System

6/3294

“Wake them up,” General Jones said, an agitated flick of his wrist erasing the message he had got from the Carrier Fearless from his view.

“Yes, sir.” The chief medical officer who was in his office turned and left.

Jones looked back to the holographic map showing Fernix System. The EMF fleet was coming in from every direction, all sixty-seven Carriers. There were fourteen ships just a third the size of the EMFC’s, but they were covered in weapons and launch bays. Unlike the EMFC’s, their weapons and armor were on both sides of their hulls. They didn’t have large bays for storing solar sails.

These were in-system fighting ships.

Jones wasn’t scared of them, but they seemed eager to close with the EMF fleet. Tomorrow they’d get to see just what they were capable of.

***

Tyler woke up, and this time his cryo-pod was open. He walked out, firing up his augments, running checks on his gear.

The rest of the Regiment was already out of their pods and moving.

He looked down the length of the spine with its cryo-pods on either side. The ones that weren’t occupied by the Regiment were open, their occupants out and about.

“Why do I get the feeling that they have a grudge?” Che asked, slamming her pistol magazine in and pulling the action back, checking there was a round in the chamber.

“Cause you have a brilliant set of deductive skills,” Tyler said, his words falling away as Haas opened a channel to him and the other officers.

“Seems that it’s about to get interesting in here. We’re a week and a half in-system, and the Harmony fuckers have some weaponized ships coming out to greet us. We’ve been given clearance to check our gear. Higher wants us to try and take one of the Harmony ships if we can,” Haas said.

“Fucking awesome,” Jerome sighed.

“Welcome to Fernix, boys and girls.”

“I want gear check by the end of today, have someone on watch at all times. Make sure everyone gets some hot meals and rack time. Don’t know the next time we’ll get some down time,” Haas said.

Tyler greened up with the rest of the officers.

“Let’s get this shit-show on the road,” Haas said.

“Che, get a rota sorted out for people to get food and rack time, I’m going to head down to the armories,” Tyler said.

“On it, SWAS,” she said, their joking from earlier forgotten.

Time to get to work, Tyler thought, pulling his helmet off and hooking it onto his shoulder straps.

“Hey, babe, see you later,” Tyler said as he passed Alexis.

“See you later, hot stuff,” she said with a smile, kissing him.

Tyler grinned and winked, continuing to the armories.

***

Jerome pulled on his powered armor’s armor plating. The rattling was gone and the work he’d done with the welder seemed to have sealed it up nicely.

The powered armor was stored in a supply room filled with food crates and it had smelled terrible as the rotten food had been heated for weeks.

They’d tossed it out of the airlocks and got to work. It seemed that everyone on the Carriers was trying to fuck with them.

Jerome grabbed a burrito he’d got a few hours ago, looking around the room. Weapons and armor were all over the place, and people were working on their powered armor. They moved with the casual professionalism of veterans that had seen combat so many times before that they had become numb to it. To them, war was their day job.

Some sported beards, others were working shirtless. To an outsider they might look like a bunch of misfits, to one another they wore their beards and tattoos with pride. They worked on their machines with practiced efficiency. Armorers and techs wandered around dispensing their information, the Troopers working with them to make the powered armor as deadly as possible. Their armor had already changed a lot in the few hours since the Regiment had got their hands on it.

Mark wandered over to Jerome, nodding in greeting.

“Sup, man?” Jerome said, holding out a hand, and Mark slapped his hand into it, sighing.

“Just working on these things like you, man,” he tapped Jerome’s armor.

“Things are a mess, they need a week to get them combat capable,” Jerome complained.

“Preaching to the choir,” Mark said, shaking his head. “Well I come bearing good news. You and yours are headed for the rack, so get some sleep.”

“Sweet, I’ll try,” Jerome got to his feet, feeling more tired than he’d expected.

“You need all the beauty sleep you can get,” Mark said with a grin.

“Smartass.”

“Dashtund must be rubbing off on me!”

Jerome snorted. “Don’t tell him that.”

“Not planning on it, go get that rack, I’ll grab you if anything happens.”

“Will do, see you in a bit. Alpha Company, get your shit finished and grab some rack,” Jerome said, pitching his voice so that it could be heard throughout the storage area.

Troopers put down what they were working on and followed him out. Jerome looked at them; he’d known them for a couple of weeks as their lieutenant, and it still felt like he was in someone else’s shoes and that they’d bust him back down to sergeant.

Yet until they were smart enough to do that he would do everything in his power to look after his people. He sighed, shaking his head, and went in search of a rack, responsibility weighing heavily on his mind.

Chapter 17

Asamau City

Cela, Cerey System

6/3294

It had been a long and hard battle, and there were still Legion patrols heading off into Cerey’s wilderness hunting down the last remaining feral Maraukians.

Nerva sat in the center of Asamau city in the Legion’s headquarters. The entire city had been turned into a defensive structure, and massive armorite panels now lay open letting sunlight drift into the city.

It was one of thirteen such structures, bastions that had stayed controlled by humanity as the Maraukian Scourge raged at their gates. Massive acceleration tubes lay dormant. There had been weeks where Nerva had wondered if they would ever stop. Firing day and night, hundreds of rounds an hour, had turned the wooded area around the city into a cratered ruin.

“The battle for Fernix is about to begin,” NIDenise said.

Even through the years as he had fought a war that Earth and Her Colonies didn’t know about, he had stayed updated on the events unfolding against Harmony. He made himself watch, even though it hurt him and made him want to go back, but he couldn’t.

“How are they looking?” Nerva asked, getting the unfiltered reports coming from Fernix. Unlike the EMF, he could see what Harmony was doing. A Legion ship was monitoring the situation with stealth shuttles, staying away from the forces, ready to move in and claim those that had been earmarked for recruiting into The Legion.

A few would be asked if they wanted to join The Legion, purposefully faking their deaths so that The Legion might be able to recover them and pull them into the real war for humanity’s survival.

Nerva hoped that his people were among those that were recovered. He knew what Harmony’s plans were and they could very well shift the power of the EHC and EMF. It could turn into a purge of the EMF.

If that happened, Aurelius had told Nerva about The Legion’s plans to have those Carriers disappear, and their crews transferred to The Legion while their derelict Carriers would show up, in time.

Nerva looked around the main command center; he wasn’t the only one watching the feeds of Fernix and Housapel.

These would be the first engagements in space between Earth Military Forces Carriers and an opposing force. Already Nerva could hear people comparing the two ships and those of the Space Legion and the Maraukians barges.

“Shit, it looks like they’ve got fighters,” one of the legionnaires said.

“So the battle of Fernix began,” Nerva thought-spoke, feeling impotent, just another observer of a battle in which he couldn’t intervene.

Chapter 18

EMFC Dauntless

Fernix System

6/3294

“I’m not liking the look of those ships one bit,” Yu said to Haas. They were off in a corner of the storage closet where the Regiment was getting their armor ready and hanging out. There was just a matter of hours until the Carriers intersected with one another.

“I know, but what can we do?” Haas said, his voice low, using the noise canceller that he and the other Triple-Twos had received as a gift from Moretti.

“We get the Regiment loaded up on the Combat Shuttles,” Yu said.

“Higher isn’t going to like that.” He’d listen to Yu’s advice, but he wasn’t going to have his ass thrown in the brig right before they got into a battle without damned good reason.

Yu pulled up a diagram of the Carrier on his surface. “That armor is the same as what we have on one side of our hull. We don’t know how much armor they have, but they’re burning hard to close with us. I think they’ve got more armor, and those rail guns, they’re taken from orbital launchers that heavy grav planets use. They’re obviously streamlined, more so than our own cannon. I had a talk with a gunner’s mate. He was getting himself well and drunk. He says that it’s all over if those cannon get a bead on our unarmored side. It has twice the missile capacity and those hangar doors we’ve seen; they look like a flight deck to me. Hell, they look like a fighter catapult.”

“How bad is it going to be?” Haas asked.

“Worse than everyone except Fearless is thinking. I had a talk to Moretti on a secured transmission. Fearless is holding back, citing mechanical issues, because they know that they won’t be able to defeat the Harmony ships. They’re just hoping the EMF fleet can slow them up so that they can get their Troopers down on the planet. The fleet commanders know that nothing can defeat their Carriers. Too much time with caviar and high class escorts, and no time in combat.” Yu shook his head, painting a grim picture.

“Alright, then we go with your plan, let’s get talking with the Regiment. We’re going to pull as much as ammunition as we can get, and load up the Combat Shuttles. Have them ready and good to go,” Haas said, putting a plan together.

“We’ll be ready.”

“It’ll only be four days in the shuttles,” Haas sighed.

“Much better than Masoul or Osdal,” Yu grinned, turning and leaving.

“For once I want to get to the planet’s orbit by Carrier!” Haas yelled at Yu’s retreating backside, and he heard Yu’s dry laugh.

“Laugh or fucking cry,” Haas said, opening a channel to his officers. “Alright boys and girls, plans be-a-changin.”

***

“Those dumb bastards.” Yu was strapped into his Combat Shuttles alongside the Regiment, with ammunition, medical supplies and everything that the Troopers might need pressed against cargo nets in overhead bins or in the lockers between the central drop seats.

The shuttles were resting in an empty hangar, and most of the crew were looking at a view screen that showed the fleets closing together as if it was some kind of sporting match.

Few, if any, were in armor; most had a beer in hand at the mess or were hanging out in their quarters, secure in the knowledge that no one could defeat an Earth Military Force Carrier.

Though Yu’s comments weren’t for them, they were a forgone conclusion. No, they were directed at the forward elements of the Carrier group. The Harmony fighters were out and in their formations, spreading away from their mother Carriers.

“They’re well trained, too well trained for my liking,” Young said from her co-pilot seat, staring at the feeds on the fighters.

“Yeah, better than our dumb bastards that are just walking in fat and happy, not a single fucking Combat Shuttle in the sky,” Yu spat.

Not a single Combat Shuttle moved out to offer battle against the fighters in the EMF vanguard.

The EMFC’s Fearless, Liberty, Mighty, and Solace were as far from the Harmony ships as possible, in their own small formation. It seemed that someone on those ships understood about never underestimating the enemy.

They had their own roving Combat Shuttles flying around them. Yu had heard the transmissions between the Carrier captains. The lead ship, EMFC Terra, the most sought after and prestigious Carrier in the EMF, held the only admiral in the EMF that wasn’t on Earth. Admiral Everrett, commander of the EMF fleet and, in Yu’s opinion, an absolute and utter waste of fucking oxygen.

“Bobbie, how are those codes looking for the hangar doors?” Yu asked.

“Just give me the word, take thirty seconds till launch,” Bobbie said.

“Keep your finger on the button,” Yu said, wishing there was more that he could do, but also knowing that he had done all he could without having himself thrown in the brig, because then this attempt to at least save something would have gone up in smoke.

Chapter 19

HC Bulwark

Fernix System

6/3294

“Other than the five Carriers that are away from the main fleet, the enemy haven’t flushed any Combat Shuttles,” Sensor Aide Fernandez said.

“Well, I’ll take any luck we can get,” Zeichner said. “They might have one hell of a ruse going on, there’s a reason that we’ve been stuck under the companies for so long.”

She didn’t need her people getting all cocky, she needed them focused and anxious. It would give them an edge. Hopefully the training would kick in and they would do what needed to be done.

“Coming into engagement range,” Baike said.

“Connect me to the fleet,” Zeichner said.

“You’re connected, admiral.”

“Here, today, Fernix joins the battle with Harmony’s Chosen, who have given their lives in order for us to show these Company dogs just what we’re capable of. I am proud of you all; trust your training and prepare for combat.” Zeichner looked to Baike and nodded, cold fear pooling like acid in her gut. “Bring the fleet into formation, begin firing. Let’s knock and see if anyone is home.”

FTL communications meant that the Harmony Cruisers turned and fired their batteries as one. Rail cannon to auto-turrets added to the wall of metal headed right into the teeth of the EMF fleet. They could move and try to dodge, but there were rounds everywhere, no matter where they went, unless they hid behind another Carrier, they’d be hit.

The lead EMF Carrier turned to present its side, firing back.

“Are they idiots?” Baike yelled.

The Carrier fired back, but it didn’t have the mass of fire as the HCs. Their massive flight deck limited their armament and, if that wasn’t enough, the Carriers were made to budget, not because they were the best of the best. Their weapons were meant to scare the enemy, maybe take out a shuttle or two, or hit a planetary target.

Their rounds were faster and heavier than the HC’s, but there were nowhere near as many of them.

“Have the fleet start evasive maneuvers,” Zeichner said, calm, cold, and collected.

So far it was no different from any one of the thousands of simulations she had lived through in preparation for this moment.

The Harmony fleet moved to evade the incoming weapons fire. Some of the EMFCs were either smart, or incredibly lucky, as they fired their missiles, creating a temporary hole in the oncoming Harmony rounds.

The lead EMFC ship wasn’t as smart or lucky.

Rounds hit its armor in hundreds of places. The EMFCs were big. Big enough to make Zeichner grind her teeth with nerves.

Round after round hit the Carrier, a Harmony ship was hit by an EMF round, and she looked at the damage; the armor had held under a direct hit by an EMF rail cannon.

“Stupid bastards,” Baike scoffed.

Zeichner looked up, the lead Carrier was fighting to try and reduce its profile. Rounds were denting and deforming armor and a few rounds made it inside.

More and more rounds pierced the armor; it was tough, but they weren’t as tough as the Harmony ships.

Something was hit mid ship. An explosion ripped out the Carrier’s side, opening it to space.

“Get some fighters on that,” Zeichner said, the Carrier was still fighting, but it looked like this Carrier wasn’t as good as the one that had died over Osdal. Their weapons were failing, their connections had been cut and no orders loaded into their targeting computers.

Combat Shuttles were starting to flee the lead ship.

“Make sure they keep those Combat Shuttles off us too,” Zeichner said.

Cold and efficient, she thought, channeling a woman who had trained for war for too much of her life, instead of the young woman who had started down this path in hope of defending her home. That young woman flinched at the number of Combat Shuttles that were fleeing the Carrier.

“Incoming missiles. Fleet is reacting,” Fernandez said, glued to her monitor.

Zeichner looked at the fighters that fell on the first Carrier that was expelling atmosphere, a few remaining guns were blown into uselessness.

The fighters had auto-cannons and in-close missiles. They weren’t as advanced as the Combat Shuttles, but they were nukes, not conventional explosives.

Three missiles made it inside the Carrier, and the fighters pulled away, raking the Combat Shuttles which were running like hell, firing only as the fighters got close.

The nukes blossomed, breaking the Carrier into four massive, spinning Sections. The engines went out on the rear panel before exploding.

“Turn fleet to face line of acceleration,” Zeichner said.

The ships moved from presenting their sides to their forward bows, and any guns on the bow fired, but the weapons fire was less than a tenth of what it had been.

The Harmony fleet fighters were now among the Carriers, which were reacting with shock and confusion.

Looks like they weren’t expecting fangs as sharp as ours, Zeichner thought, smiling. “Missile launch, flight plan alpha.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Baike said.

Moments later the Harmony ships were firing missiles out of all of their tubes. They dropped out and accelerated faster than a human could expect to live through.

The Carrier’s defensive measures fired back, lines of tracers playing a game of tag with the smart missiles.

While they were dealing with missiles they couldn’t fire on, the fighters darted into the unprotected sides of the Carriers, free of any armor or weaponry.

Four more EMF Carriers were spinning debris and spewing Combat Shuttles by the time the Harmony fleet crossed the first ships.

The Harmony Cruiser shuddered with hits. Being this close to the EMF it was nearly impossible to miss their rounds. The opposite was also true, and the Cruisers gave out worse than they received.

Missiles launched from the EMFCs.

“Harmony Cruiser Freedom has lost engine, they are moving out of the battlefield,” Fernandez announced.

“Missile spread coming at Freedom!” Baike said moments later, and the Cruiser shuddered as lights changed color, switching to backups.

“Get them to pull in close to the fleet so we can give them aid!” Zeichner snapped, tasting copper in her mouth. She’d bitten the inside of her mouth with the last hit.

“Captain wants us to seal up,” Aide Tipperary said.

“Helmets on ladies and gents, we’ve got work to do! Captains are to fire missiles at their own discretion. Have the fighters get in there and mess up their plans, leave their secondary fleet alone,” Zeichner said, looking to the four Carriers that were staying far away from her and her fleet, but still heading for Fernix Prime and the Blue Moon. She saw a flight of Combat Shuttles heading from one of the Carriers in the main fleet and heading for the secondary.

“Freedom lost structural integrity on their starward side,” Baike said.

“Have them flip and angle themselves to use their dark side as much as possible,” Zeichner said.

Her fleet was getting the piss knocked out of them. Rounds were being spat between each fleet, missiles populating the skies, their warheads coming in close enough to tear at weapons and armor, or throw the crews around.

Another twelve Carriers were broken, and by now the EMF were getting the idea and flushing out their Combat Shuttles to try and deal with the fighters that were getting in their unprotected sides to get more fire on the Harmony fleet. But at the speed that the two fleets were heading past one another, it would matter little.

The EMF fleet was breaking apart, running, their belief in their Carriers had been shaken and they were trying to save their own asses.

There was little that Zeichner could do; as the Admiral of the Harmony Fleet she needed to look at the overall battle, the captains would fight their ships. It gave her too much time to see as two of her Cruisers were hammered with rail cannon rounds and missiles as they neared a Carrier.

The Cruiser fired back at the EMFC, armor shredding off of both of the vessels, holes appearing underneath. Missiles exploded between them, and tracer fire connected the two ships. Then they were past one another, their automated systems firing their weapons to get an advantage at their closest point and then fire as they passed.

The Carrier launched missiles, a full spread right at the Cruiser, and the Cruiser tried to angle away, but they were too slow with too much damage. At least one missile hit the rear engine compartment, and it disappeared as the ship’s automated weapons kept on firing like a wounded wild animal.

Other Carriers seemed to sense the Cruiser was badly wounded, firing their own weapons and missiles at the craft.

There wasn’t enough converging fire from the Cruiser and its fellow ships to stop all of the missiles, and one hit near the bow, clearing the armor and exposing the interior of the ship.

It took a dozen more missiles to open the Cruiser up. Zeichner stopped counting as missile after missile rammed into the craft, turning it into floating debris.

The EMF were focused on the one Cruiser, but Zeichner’s people were better trained, she could see that now. They fought with everything they had, following the plan they had been working on for nearly a decade.

Fighters dove in towards the Carriers with reckless abandon, swatting down the Combat Shuttles that rose to greet them and piling round after round into the Carriers, their missiles targeted at the Carriers’ flight decks.

The Harmony fleet gave the EMF’s aggression back in spades. Another missile barrage ripped free of Cruisers here and there.

Their terrible battle colored the once peaceful darkness of Fernix system. The whole event was over faster than Zeichner felt possible. The Cruisers were rotating to face their line of acceleration, putting their engines at full burn to counter their acceleration.

“I want a report from all of the Cruisers, and I want shuttles ready to gather up any Harmony personnel out in the area of operations,” Zeichner said.

“Yes, ma’am,” Baike’s voice was hard, trying to cover up his shock. The simulations had prepared them for this battle, but nothing had prepared them for the aftermath.

Zeichner was damned happy to be alive, but guilt wormed its way in, knowing that many hadn’t survived and there were still thirty-seven intact Carriers headed for Fernix.

Even when the enemy had been too cocky, their abilities lacking, and their Combat Shuttles hidden away, they had taken out two Harmony Cruisers and a third of the fighters.

We took out nearly half of their number, she thought, looking at the viewscreens, she should feel elated, but tens of Combat Shuttles were transferring out from broken Carriers to others.

Even only half armed and armored, the Earth Military Forces Carriers were behemoths. Whole Sections were missing and carved out, but still there were plenty of pockets where personnel had survived.

The Combat Shuttles that were patrolling around the second Carrier fleet were moving in towards the debris. There were a hundred thousand combat capable Troopers on each of those ships and, while not all of them had survived, it looked like their buddies were picking them up.

Her console blinked at her with urgent information. She checked it, her jaw flexing with the new information, looking at the second Carrier group.

They were led by the Carrier Fearless, the other three had all been at Fernix. They were veteran Troopers and ship’s crew and it looked like their captains knew what they were doing.

“We’re getting reports from the other Cruisers,” Baike said.

“Very well, send them to my console, let’s take everyone down from battle stations and look to working on wounded and the ship,” Zeichner said.

“Yes, ma’am,” Baike said.

Zeichner gave the secondary fleet another glance before flicking to the color coded reports of her fleet, which updated as time went on.

Chapter 20

EMFC Fearless

Fernix System

6/3294

Major Ortiz walked over to the twelve Combat Shuttles that had just landed in one of Fearless’s hangar blisters.

The hangar door was closing as the shuttle’s ramps opened. Ortiz saw someone step out of the shuttle, trip on something and roll down. Their Repulsor was always pointed at the ceiling, despite their fall.

At the bottom, they got right back up, tapping the deck with their armored foot.

“Yeah, that’s a fucking floor alright,” Dashtund said. “Heya, major, nice armor.”

“I see why they didn’t want to give you armor, scraped the damned deck just walking down the ramp,” Ortiz said.

“Umm, it was like that when I got here, major,” Dashtund said, the excuse weak.

The smile he was wearing did nothing to prove his innocence as he held out a fist to the major, holding his Repulsor in one hand.

Ortiz grinned, spitting into his dip pouch in his powered armor. Touching his fist to Dashtund’s shaking hands was a risky proposition so they made do.

“I wouldn’t listen to him if I was you, Ortiz,” Jerome said, stepping off one of the other shuttles.

The Regiment of Troopers was milling about, following their leaders over to Ortiz.

Ortiz could pick out the other miscreants that made up the Regiment, the mass of the Triple-Twos and a good number from his own Company from back when he’d been a lieutenant. Ortiz was damned proud of them.

“Ahhh of course not, known the cheating bastard too long, brother,” Ortiz grinned, bumping fists with Jerome.

“So, you’re in for the poker game later?” Tyler asked.

“Couldn’t miss that now,” Ortiz looked around, bumping fists with his people.

“Well it’s good to be on a ship of professionals,” Jerome said.

“Amen to that,” Mark agreed.

“Follow me. You’re camping out in some storage rooms, didn’t want you messing up the place. Yu?” Ortiz asked, looking at the Combat Shuttle’s windows.

“Yeah, major?” Yu waved from a Combat Shuttle’s cockpit.

“Coordinate with flight control, there’s a lot of supplies floating around out there, we need every Trooper, bullet and ration we can get our hands on,” Ortiz said.

“Will do.”

“Mark, have your Company offload our extra supplies,” Haas said.

“On it,” Mark looked to his people. “One Section per shuttle get the kit moved over to the far airlock, fast as possible, let’s see how well you can use that powered armor!” His Company moved into action, Sections spreading out, Mark jumping in to help out.

Ortiz nodded in appreciation, they hadn’t had it easy, but it looked like they’d done the best they could with what they had.

“Now, let’s go get those quarters sorted out,” Ortiz said, turning and leading the way.

There wasn’t much time to go until they made planet fall. They were heading right for Blue Moon.

Ortiz got them up to speed on everything that was going on; their chain of command had kept them sorely in the dark.

Chapter 21

Harmony Forces Command

Blue Moon, Fernix System

6/3294

“Admiral Zeichner is reporting that her fleet is heavily damaged, but she believes that they will be able to hit the EMF fleet again before they make contact with Fernix Prime or the Blue Moon,” Colonel Kroetch said, looking to General Ando. “If they do, then they will not be available for assistance for a few days as they cut speed and come back about.”

The command center had been a manager’s office, but the entire factory had been turned over to a staging area for the Chosen. On the floor below, Chosen were lounging around their powered armor. Markings depicted rank and they were painted flat black with red accents, just like Harmony’s uniforms.

In the room, view screens covered walls and a large table displayed the area around the factory; a hologram in one corner showed the enemy fleet, another in the opposite corner showed Fernix and Blue Moon that was orbiting it.

“Very well, I want a readiness check, have all units with full stores,” Ando said, glancing at the timer on one of the view screens. There were just two days left until the EMF arrived in Fernix’s orbit, then they would be able to strike the planet, the Blue Moon orbiting it or the shipyards and machine shops that littered the planet’s orbitals.

He didn’t know what the EMF’s plan would be, but he’d stationed the majority of his personnel on Blue Moon and a quarter on Fernix Prime. The land masses were too small and they were too open to give him much advantage.

He had twenty million Chosen under arms, including those that were in the fleet, and over two hundred million civilians that were under his protection. The EMF had started off with just under six and a half million Troopers when they had entered Fernix. He had no idea what the count was now, but it had to be closer to four million.

Half of his Chosen had powered armor, the rest had normal armor. All of them had been trained for years. They were ready for the EMF.

Chapter 22

Tower

Earth, Sol System

6/3294

“So it looks like all but four of the captains and their generals at Fernix thought that it would be a good idea to take the enemy seriously,” Nivad said, looking to the view screen that turned the wall into a window.

“Captain Hall of EMFC Fearless will be given overall command of the fleet in Fernix. Only his force of four Carriers took the threat seriously, instead of getting nearly half of their force destroyed.

“General Attia will assume command of the ground forces; he might not be much better than the other generals but his people have survived through Masoul and Osdal. He hopefully had the sense to listen to the same advisors as before and pull a victory out of Fernix.”

Wallace held his hand up. Nivad pointed at him, bowing to allow him to talk.

“If Osdal showed us one thing, it’s that we can’t fight them all at once. We have more biological warheads and not many Troopers. If we hit the planet with the biological weapons, we can have our Troopers fighting on the Blue Moon and the other infrastructure. I also vote that we bomb the Blue Moon with any biologicals we have remaining after hitting Fernix Prime,” Wallace said.

“Agreed, do it,” Nivad said.

“So, as we’re tapped into Harmony’s FTL relay, we’ve been picking up connections, and we assumed that they were the systems and their ships. We’ve still got a number of them in the direction of Housapel. We think that most of them were in the fleet that was destroyed, because they blinked off the map. Harmony might have more than light communications systems in Housapel,” Wallace said, his face hard.

“Track it as best as possible, have a half-decent captain head up the entire force and look out for the other fleet,” Nivad said, pointing to Alice.

“Our numbers are showing the biggest growth yet. People loved the fight for Housapel. We’ve censored the feeds from Fernix, and we have feeds of Mark Victor avoiding battle in case we need to pull him down later.”

“Good, how are the replacement colonists going?” Nivad looked to Dalia.

“They are being transported. Freighters are at Masoul, getting the sphere trading once again.”

The representative of Osdal put her hand up and Nivad pointed at her.

“The Osdal Partnership is getting annoyed at the private companies that are starting up. They are trying to cut them off, but the companies are finding a way to work around it, causing more companies to be created. The Company,” she checked her surface, looking like she didn’t quite believe her own words, “The Yard, located here in Sol, is a large supporter of a mining Company, and they’re setting up a trade with just the system.”

“We need competition to keep the companies on their feet. Makes the people think that they have some kind of control over their lives. There will be outliers, but not many of them. Enough to give the people hope, so make sure that you build a file on the companies. If they overstep their boundaries then we will give the Osdal Partnership a gift,” Nivad said.

“Yes, sir,” the representative said, writing notes on her surface.

“Wallace, how are the scans from our scouting forces?” Nivad asked.

“The systems are looking good; with a bit of terraforming we can have another seven habitable worlds over three systems. We are pushing further to look at more opportunities.”

Nivad nodded. Now we just need to know where their predecessors went and where three EMF Carriers disappeared to, six hundred years ago.

Another man might have been excited, but Nivad was working through possibilities and wondering what games he could play with each one.

Everyone and everything was a pawn.

Chapter 23

Fearless

Blue Moon, Fernix System

7/3294

“Well, this is going to be shitty,” Jerome said, packing his lip with chew, and spitting into the one-way valve in his powered armor.

“Always a ray of sunshine, Jerome,” Tyler said chewing on gum.

“Chew?” Mark asked. Jerome tossed the tin, and Mark grabbed it out of the air with his armored hand, showing the dexterity of the thing.

Jerome put his hands back in his powered armor, fitting them around the actuators that allowed him to move the PA’s fingers. A command from his implants sealed his armor up.

Mark packed a lip and checked his own spitting rig, making sure it worked. “This thing back fires I’m going to be pissed.”

“You’re not the only one,” Ortiz said, coming through the racks to find them all.

“Need a lip?” Mark asked, holding out Jerome’s tin.

“Thanks for offering my chew, dick.”

“Pssht, had a chew in since I woke up,” Ortiz grinned.

“You owe me like, three tins from Masoul, still,” Mark said.

“I got you cigars afterwards,” Jerome said, happy for the bantering to get rid of his pre-drop jitters. It didn’t go away the more drops you did. You understood what was going to happen more and more and knew there wasn’t a whole fucking lot you could do about your Combat Shuttle getting hit or not.

“I guess,” Mark said, handing the tin back to Jerome, his heavy PA making the floor shake.

“You two done with your squabbles? It’s time to get loaded. The fine people of the EMFC Fearless want us off of their flight deck,” Ortiz said.

“Present Company excluded,” Zukic looked at Ortiz, grinning.

“Telling me I’m not your type?” Ortiz said, looking shocked.

“Ahhh, like them a bit more round around the chest and butt, not in the middle,” Zukic said grinning. Jerome couldn’t help but grin as well.

“Fucking everyone’s a critic, diet, go to the gym, stop chewing, bunch of fucking perfectionists,” Ortiz sighed, shaking his head.

“Was some time that a man could just be plump, chew, and no one would give a rat’s fart,” Haas came up beside Ortiz, tapping his armored shoulder with his own hand.

“Amen to that bro… wait, you calling me plump now?”

“Like a fucking pincushion,” Haas said.

“Prick.”

“That an invitation?” Haas deadpanned.

“Fuck, you lot were wasted on those fuckers over at Dauntless,” Ortiz said, smiling at them all. They’d been through a lot and they’d missed one another.

“Need someone to keep you in check, major,” Alexis said wandering into the group.

“I’m guessing we’re ready for boarding?” Jerome asked.

“Yep.”

Jerome nodded.

“See you on the ground, fuckers,” he said, sealing his helmet.

“Leave something for the rest of us,” Ortiz said.

“Got my people on rations, none of those officer banquets,” Jerome said, grinning and spitting.

“Smart arse,” Ortiz smiled, shaking his head.

Jerome moved out of the armory and to his Company with Alexis and Tyler behind him, and he let them have their moment. He knew how hard it was for the two of them. They were braver than him, getting married as Troopers.

“Alright you lazy bastards, it’s time we went and said hello to the neighbors and make them regret ever thinking themselves as Chosen for anything more than a bullet catch.” Jerome’s Company, were all geared up and ready in their armory, checking gear, and waiting for the order to move out. “Let’s go and catch our ride.” He headed for the large airlock that led from the armory to the flight deck.

The Company got themselves ironed out, and one Platoon with Sasaki leading them stepped into the airlock with Jerome, her name carved into her breastplate.

“Finally a battle where we aren’t in a fucking shuttle for four weeks,” she said.

“Don’t you like it when Tal breaks the shitter?”

“That was one time!” Tal objected on the Company leadership channel.

“Smelled fucking horrible. Nearly burned through the fucking ship’s armor,” Dooks added.

“Taco night is not the night you go balls out, especially when you’re cramped together with everyone on a shuttle,” Jerome agreed as the airlock cycled.

“Man, I couldn’t say no to burritos,” Tal said.

“Could have said no to the fifteen litres of hot sauce, though,” Sasaki said.

“May have a point there,” Tal laughed.

Jerome grinned, spitting into his rig.

He and Sasaki’s Platoon stepped out onto the flight deck. It was open to space, and filled with Combat Shuttles, their ramps open and waiting for their Trooper payloads. Here and there, flight deck techs were running around fixing last minute issues.

Jerome followed his markers, heading for the Combat Shuttle that would deliver them into the heart of Blue Moon’s Factory Complex Three.

“Let’s go remind these fuckers why they don’t mess with Troopers,” Jerome said on the Company wide channel.

He moved out, seeing other Troopers moving out to their shuttles, both PAs and the unlucky bastards that had survived the first battle of Fernix and their ships being blown up, only to lose their powered armor.

The Blue Moon promised to be anything but a clean fight. Normal Trooper armor just wasn’t going to cut it.

Chapter 24

Combat Shuttle Two-One-Four

Blue Moon, Fernix System

7/3294

Tyler chewed on his gum as the ramp sealed closed. He’d lucked out and got Yu, Young, and Bobbie as his Combat Shuttle crew.

“Good morning, Lieutenant Tyler, ready to embrace a new day?” Bobbie asked, closing the hatch.

“Always ready with you around,” Tyler said grinning in his helmet.

“Aww, good to know you still care, Tyler,” Bobbie said, patting his armored shoulder and smiling as he passed and got into his seat behind the cockpit.

“Alright ladies, gents, and Lieutenant Tyler, we’re going to have a shitty day. Expecting lead and missile filled skies, with a side of possible nuclear payloads. Please remember the puke trough is to your front and this is a non-smoking flight. Make sure your weapons are on safe and that your powered armor is dialed down. We don’t need you ripping out your harnesses or more holes in the frigging carpet or ceiling. My cargo master keeps complaining about my DIY skylights,” Yu said even as the shuttle started rumbling to life and heading out of the flight deck.

“We will be holding around this here big bastard we call the Carrier Fearless and I am expecting a brilliant light show. It is available to you all if you want to look at shiny tracer fire and that weather I was talking about earlier. Thank you for flying Combat Shuttle Air, and I remind you to run as fast as that armor can carry you as soon as we set down. I do so love seeing Troopers run so I can get moving again.” Yu cut the channel.

“Been working on your pep talk I see,” Tyler said jacking into the Combat Shuttle’s crew circuit.

“Well, with more hazards more talk, and this one’s going to be as hairy as Bobbie’s balls after a week without shaving, so longer talk,” Yu explained.

“What makes you think I shave my balls?”

“It was more hope than knowledge. I feel sorry for the bastard that cleans your clothes - if you don’t probably burn them,” Yu said.

“I’d go with the burning,” Young said.

“I’d take that bet,” Tyler agreed. “So, what is this rumor I’ve been hearing about the rest of the fleet going in ahead of us?”

“Captain Hall put the rest of the fleet ahead of our four Carriers, the hope is that they suck up the damage,” Young said, the humor from moments ago vanishing.

“Also to use their missiles before they get screwed over by that Harmony fleet,” Yu added.

“Nukes?” Tyler asked.

“Bios. They’re going to wipe the planet clean of everything and everyone. Going to drop some of it on the Blue Moon to see if it can get in the factories,” Bobbie said.

Tyler felt a shiver go down his spine. It was heavy handed as hell, but it would work. They were going to purge the entire system. It had never been done before, but people had talked of it. No one but those in the cryo-pods would survive. Tyler just hoped that enough of the people who fought against Harmony made it to those cryo-pods. Any that supported Harmony would never wake up.

This wasn’t just a war; it was an extermination. It made Tyler feel dirty.

“We’ve got a new flight plan to get out of the missiles’ flight path,” Young said.

“Altering,” Yu said.

Tyler jumped into the sensors and had a look around with his HUD. There were hundreds of thousands of Combat Shuttles exiting their Carriers, with more coming out every minute.

The lead Carriers were grouped together, their flight decks shut, and damn close by normal standards in space, as their unarmored sides faced one another, their weapons pointing out. Tracers started firing from the lead ships, hammering weapon emplacements and sensor buoys.

The Carriers behind them were also side to side and added their fire. Explosions rippled over the Blue Moon and the orbitals of Fernix Prime.

It went on like that for a few minutes, then Harmony returned fire. Missile batteries, machine guns and all manner of weaponry fired on the Carriers. Many of them wouldn’t even scratch the armor of the Carriers.

Harmony seemed to care little. Tyler was looking at the weapons fire and, while it seemed that everyone and their sister was firing at the Carriers, their fire was controlled and focused. It might not take down a Carrier, but that smaller weapons fire could sure as hell take down a Combat Shuttle.

Carriers and Harmony fought, missiles struck the Carriers and made them shake but they kept going, their sides covered by their sister ships.

“Looks like they’ve got more of those fighters,” Yu growled as new contacts sprouted into Tyler’s HUD. They flew from the Blue Moon and ran towards the Carriers. Combat Shuttles that were heading towards the Blue Moon opened up on the fighters. They weren’t as nimble, but they were better armed and their missiles hunted them down.

The fighters didn’t need missiles, their tracer lines hammered Combat Shuttles as the two groups crossed one another.

“And we’re headed right into that mess,” Tyler said to himself as the Combat Shuttles rushed towards Blue Moon.

Missiles sprouted from the Carriers, heading for fighters, weapons, Blue Moon and Fernix Prime.

Tyler stopped chewing his gum and started grinding his teeth, knowing that among those missiles were biological weapons that would kill anything but Troopers.

Fighters were getting through the Combat Shuttles and heading right into the Carriers. His HUD was a mess of contacts; he didn’t know how pilots even started to understand it. Young was passing information to Yu, going through the reams of knowledge that Tyler couldn’t even begin to understand as they entered the battle.

“First shuttles have made it down,” Bobbie said. “First missiles have hit too,” he said a moment later, as large explosions ripped through the factories on Blue Moon.

It was a hellish scene with factories burning in the low atmosphere, fighters tangling with Combat Shuttles and battling to get past one another. Carriers and weapons’ platforms filled the sky with heavy missiles and lines of tracer fire.

There was a noise of tin on a roof that Tyler felt more than heard in the depressurized cargo hold.

“We getting shot at, sir?” the man beside Tyler asked, his face white with fear.

“Certainly feels that way,” Tyler said, chewing his gum. The cannon and auto-turrets opened up as missiles streaked free of their ports.

Tyler looked at his HUD; somehow, through all of the chaos, the rest of his Company’s Combat Shuttles were holding position to Yu, and plowing through the Harmony fighters. One Combat Shuttle blinked out and Tyler inhaled, shaking his head.

Time moved slowly as they fought through fighters and dodged fire coming from the ground. It took minutes, and every time Tyler heard weapons fire hitting the Combat Shuttle he thought that they were done for.

“Drop in ten! Up!” Bobbie barked. With his words, the harnesses unlocked and everyone got to their feet. They grabbed onto the bars above their heads in the walkways, stumbling as Yu took evasive maneuvers.

The ramp lowered and Tyler saw the battlefield in all its fury-filled glory. Tracers shot into the sky or into the factories. Explosions ripped through buildings here and there. Combat Shuttles raced over factories, firing their weapons and missiles, leaving destruction in their wake.

A Combat Shuttle was hit, and it swung hard to the right, going into a spin and crashing into a factory. Fighters sprouted from their hangars, racing to meet Combat Shuttles. The forces were battling it out for air superiority.

“Move it!” Bobbie said as the shuttle hit the ground heavily. The shuttle was vibrating with fire. The companies’ other shuttles were coming in and firing at the surrounding buildings.

“We’re not in Kansas anymore,” Tyler said to himself, scanning his HUD.

“Push your people out into an all-around defense, we’re the first ones down so we need to secure this landing site for others. Operate in Platoons to move out, and secure the surrounding buildings once you’re formed up,” Tyler said to his Platoon commanders, rushing down the ramp and moving away from the Combat Shuttle that was already taking off, its turrets hammering a target to its front.

Tyler found a gap in the line of Troopers that were lying down and firing into the buildings around the landing pad. Enemy icons seemed to be everywhere.

Tyler fired on those immediately in front of him, his Repulsor adding to the angry red tracer lines, sprouting outwards from their drop-off. One Platoon started moving forward off of the landing pad and into the factories to Tyler’s left. Three moved into the ones behind him.

“Okay, Two, let’s get moving,” Dooks said, putting up way points. “Advance in Sections, supporting fire.”

One and Three Sections got up and ran, jumping back onto the ground, Two and Four running past them, never stopping their fire as they moved.

Tyler checked his HUD, finding Che was moving with Three Section. As he watched, a new flight of Combat Shuttles came in, they’d barely come into a hover when Troopers started peeling off.

“Sorry we’re late to the party,” Jerome said.

“Good to have you, my three Section’s looking kind of weak, and One and Two could do with support in between,” Tyler said.

“Moving to help,” Jerome said, clicking off and passing the necessary orders.

Tyler ran for a few meters and dropped back to the ground, firing on the factories. The wall was a shredded mess, with the new rounds turning it into flying shrapnel.

“We’ve got PACs coming from One Section’s direction,” Sasaki said.

“Get them pinned, we need to secure these other sides before we can get anything to assist,” Tyler said.

The noises of battle were dim with the nearly non-existent atmosphere. Still, Tyler could hear the whistle of the screamers and, denied air, they sounded like deflating balloons.

Well that has to be the weakest sounding screamer ever. Tyler shook his head, the other Sections had passed the one he’d attached himself to and were firing again.

“I’m getting to old for this shit,” Tyler grunted, running again.

Jerome’s shuttles took off.

“Declaring CCP over with Three Section,” Zukic said, a new marker on the HUD. “Incoming support fire on One Section’s front.’’

As he talked, a Combat Shuttle came in low and deadly, and its weapons ripped the factory a new skylight as missiles disappeared inside, blowing the factory’s walls out and sending debris everywhere.

“Move it!” Sasaki barked, and the dust hadn’t even settled before people rushed in.

Low gravity, might take fucking decades for that dust to settle. Tyler grunted as he was up and running again. They were just fifty meters from the buildings now.

A glance at his HUD showed the last flight of shuttles coming in; Mark and Charlie Company had arrived for the show, but they were missing a shuttle.

Tyler pushed his doubts aside, he needed to focus on the fight. Either Mark was dead or alive, he wouldn’t want Tyler distracted and dead.

“Take an extra bound and use the wall to fire inside!” Dooks called to his Platoon. Tyler moved with them, using the sorry excuse for a wall they’d been shooting into ever since they’d gotten out of their Combat Shuttle to stop himself. He came up over the wall, using it to rest his Repulsor on. Carats appeared.

“PACs!” He yelled, it seemed that Harmony’s reinforcements had arrived.

Tyler was firing even as he yelled, he didn’t realize the first was dead before he moved on. The new ammo was effective as hell.

We’re going to need all the small miracles we can get, Tyler thought, his augments pumping him up as he moved from target to target firing short controlled bursts with deadly precision.

Chapter 25

Factory Complex Three

Blue Moon, Fernix System

7/3294

Mark rushed off the Combat Shuttle, moving towards where Bravo Company’s third Section was moving inwards.

Both Bravo and Alpha were pushing into the factories that surrounded their landing pad. Blue Moon’s atmosphere was chaos.

Mark looked to his HUD, moving out way points for his Platoons, putting them as reinforcements for the lead companies. It was their job to fill any gaps that appeared and exploit any holes that showed in the enemy’s lines.

“Keep moving forward, I have other personnel coming down at this location so I’m going to push them towards Bravo and Alpha Company’s positions. I want to collapse us down to a single front before making a major push,” Haas said to his lieutenants and CSMs.

“Moving into support position,” Mark said, watching the Combat Shuttles take off as his people took whatever cover they could find.

“You see any of those fighters running around, send them a few good bursts,” Haas said.

Mark greened up and changed to his Company wide channel. “You see any of those Harmony fuckers flying around, shoot them.” Mark slumped down behind a reinforced barricade that had been hit by Combat Shuttle missiles and Repulsor rounds.

More Combat Shuttles came in and dropped off more people.

“Waz, move up to support Alpha Company Two Platoon,” Mark said, seeing that they were showing a mass of PACs hammering their position.

“Sir,” Waz clicked off, his Platoon moving out. Dominguez got the other Platoons moved so that they still maintained an all-around defense beyond the landing pad.

People were forming up behind them, preparing to carve out their own line of advance. The Company of Troopers in mis-matched powered armor had not set off. Those without powered armor had the AMRs, and Mark knew that Tyler had snagged one of the rifles from Fearless. The man was a damned good shot and he loved the AMR.

The Reclaimer Regiment was getting a good foothold in the exterior factories and the arrival of the new Company was allowing them to compress their forces and focus them.

“Mark, push up to the factories,” Zukic called out after a few minutes of fierce fighting. Two more Combat Shuttle drops had come in, and the second one was barely two Platoons instead of a Company. The Harmony bastards were cutting down the incoming reinforcements.

“Ko, Niemi, move up to the factories,” Mark said, and two twin green dots filled his vision. He waited until his people were moving before he started forward. They reached the walls of the three factories around the landing pad and the Reclaimer Regiment was pushing into three of them.

Mark fired at the fighters that flew across the landing pad and they seemed to get the idea and pissed off.

Mark spat into his makeshift container. He wanted to be in the fight, not sitting back and supporting it. Something had changed from his want to defend the people he cared about to destroying those that had hurt someone he had tried to protect.

Caroline was gone, but he was going to do everything in his power to make these bastards regret putting people into camps and claiming that they wanted nothing but freedom, while enslaving others. Harmony was supposed to be for the people, yet on Masoul and Osdal the people were second rate citizens, little more than slaves. The Chosen were rabid dogs.

These ones were prettier and maybe they weren’t the same Chosen as those that were on Masoul and Osdal, but they were something for him to vent his anger and his frustration at. He knew how to kill, he knew how to lead killers, and he was good at it. He would tear Harmony down for Caroline, but he would not do it in a way that would get his people killed.

While he wanted to close with and destroy the Chosen, he held that darkness at bay; that same darkness that he had allowed to envelop him at the camp outside Mining City Twenty-One on Osdal Actual.

Chapter 26

EMFC Fearless

Fernix Prime’s Orbit, Fernix System

7/3294

“Missiles have entered Fernix Prime’s Orbit,” Lieutenant Celik reported from Weapons.

Captain Hall simply nodded. Fearless’s Troopers and the crew that kept her running had become close over the years. He couldn’t help but think of the imagery he’d seen as the biological weapons had hit Osdal’s Mining City Twenty-One, killing hundreds of thousands.

That was little compared to the hundreds of millions on Fernix Prime. The system had over two hundred million and now there were undoubtedly more as people had had more kids as the EMF had been racing for the system.

Hall had received the order, passed down from Nivad himself. They weren’t just going to stop Harmony here, they were going to wipe it - and any indication that there had been a rebellion on Fernix - out. New colonists would reseed and get the system back online.

The EMF had the job of butchers.

Hall felt something dark and twisted in his gut having to give that order, as he thought of his family that had grown up without him back on Earth. His wife and his children were long dead, but his grandchildren were about his age now. He was killing people that supported Harmony, but they were blind to the truth. He wished that he could have denied the order, but he knew that saying no to Nivad would result in a painful death.

He’d talked to M, who had given him the target coordinates. The man had always been a bit distant unless he was with the Triple-Twos. When he gave Hall his orders, he was practically despondent, knowing that he was instigating the deaths of millions.

Hall checked the trajectory of the biological weapons that would coat Fernix Prime, making it uninhabitable until Nivad sent another spread of missiles to clean up the mess.

The Carrier shook with impacts and missiles. The EMF fleet was now flying in partners, they each had one armored side and they were showing that to the planet and the moon, and computers were linked between the two, giving them full screen coverage and making them seem like one Carrier instead of two.

Combat Shuttles had been split between dropping Troopers off, providing support to the Carriers and hunting down Harmony fighters, loaded up with rail guns and missiles.

There was little that Hall could do. The orders had been given and they were fighting their ships. Fearless had taken a page out of EMFC Reclaimer’s book; they had linked the computer, weapons systems, power, and sensors together. They ran independently, but found targets and fired on them faster than any human could react. There was a small chance that they could clip a Combat Shuttle and had done a few times, but there was a Neural Net that was learning from the ship’s mistakes and clearing up better firing solutions.

The more the Carriers fought the fighters, the better they got at fighting them. The Neural Nets started anticipating their movements and understanding what the human pilots would do. They weren’t perfect, as not all humans were alike, but it was ironing it out.

Hall looked to his sensors, the Harmony Cruisers were doing full combat burn for him. They had even been bold enough to squawk their identifications.

He now knew all of the names of his enemy ships, but he had stopped his fellow captains from doing the same. He knew that they would use that to try and track down the Carriers that had been in combat before.

He knew that dying was a possibility. He also knew that losing Fearless could see the EMF fleet going back to being a squabbling mess of slum dwellers and EMF politics.

“We’ve lost the bridge,” Rasalov said as the Carrier shook again.

“Well, that is a shame,” Hall said, dryly.

While they had been moving from Osdal to Fernix, they had run all of the bridge’s communications lines to a storage closet deep in the heart of the Carrier. Now, the bastards would have to get through some twenty decks before they could hit the bridge.

Hall had told the other captains to do the same. Some had, others had loafed. Many of them had been evaporated with a missile impact to their bridge.

Secondary bridge staff had taken over, and they had listened to Hall. Seemed that they didn’t want to go the way of their predecessors.

“Spin the fleet and point us towards the Harmony fleet. It’s time that we ended this,” Hall said.

“Yes, captain,” Guy said. The communications officer was the heart of the fleet.

“Yeltsin, how long until we intercept the Harmony fleet?” Hall asked.

“Five hours.”

“Good, I want Blue Moon as a backdrop. If they miss us, then they’ll hit their own people.”

“Yes, sir!” Yeltsin had an understanding grin on his face as he altered the Carrier and fleet’s flight plan, and sent it to the other Carriers.

Hall looked around the room; his bridge staff had changed since they had fled Masoul. They had lost friends and they had come close to losing their own lives more than once. They were one of only two ships that had ever fought ship to ship. The other was the late Reclaimer crew. Those that had survived had filled Fearless’s positions, and they were the most fighting capable ship in the EMF fleet.

“Let’s show them what Fearless can do, for Reclaimer,” Hall said, broadcasting to the entire ship.

The determined faces turned grim and Hall forced himself to stay seated instead of leaning forward as if he could make the Carrier move faster.

He looked at the support fire that was raking marked enemy positions down on Blue Moon. They were a moving artillery battery, controlling the orbitals and putting them to work.

They’d lost five Carriers; their shells were evacuated as they spun in space. Their weapons systems had been linked together and were still attacking anything that came close to them and didn’t have an EMF call sign.

Their people were being pulled and sent to Blue Moon.

Hall was down to thirty-seven Carriers. It would have to be enough to defeat the Harmony fleet.

Chapter 27

Free City

Fernix Prime, Fernix System

7/3294

Omoti Akani looked at the skies as hundreds of meteors seemed to enter the atmosphere. It was debris from the fight above Fernix Prime. He could make out the nuclear explosions and the night sky was lit with angry tracer fire ripping between the Blue Moon and the EMF fleet.

He had looked at the reports on his screens and tablets. Now that it was here, he felt something stir in his guts akin to panic and fear. He knew what those Troopers could do. He knew that they would have no mercy for him, the man who had helped Harmony come into existence. He could only hope that his Harmony fighters defeated the Troopers and their Carriers before they descended on his planet.

His implants beeped with new information. He ignored it, they had been beeping all day. He turned off all the alerts except the ones from Peter Quinn.

Akani wondered for the first time if his plan had been worth it. He didn’t care about those who died, but about the industry that was being destroyed. The possibility that he could die. He tried to push that last thought from his mind, but he couldn't. The Troopers were here for him and his creation. He had helped make Harmony. It was a way to accelerate his and Peter’s positions. They wanted to be the leaders of the EHC and to do that they needed to defeat the EMF.

So what was the best way to incite people to rebellion? Tell them that they can get out from under the companies. Tell them that they can have a future under their own government, make it look like you are building a real government. Start to give them more power and get them motivated to defend their homes, and then sit back and watch it happen.

Of course, they had assured their victory, Harmony was just the distraction to keep Earth occupied.

Soon they would have victory.

Akani turned and walked through his ultra-modern house to get something to eat.

He found his throat was itchy. He grabbed water and took a drink, but now the itch was in his eyes, in his nose, in his throat and armpits.

His implants beeped frantically.

He opened them up and they indicated that he’d been exposed to a toxin. He fell on the floor, his eyes bugging out as his nervous system rebelled against him.

He had never got physical augments, he thought they were ghastly things. People thinking that they were going to get hurt; they weren’t even proper Company officers if they thought that.

Akani had kept his body clean of them, like many other Company officers. He kept a real doctor on retainer to appear higher class, instead of using the robo-docs or having the augments heal him.

Now he wished that he had allowed himself to become a partial cyborg. Slightly less than human.

He was burning up from the inside out, and the toxin was turning his saliva and water into acid. His nervous system had shut down, and now he was choking on his own blood as his throat and mouth dissolved.

Chapter 28

HC Bulwark

Fernix Prime’s Orbit, Fernix System

7/3294

Admiral Zeichner did not like the reports that she was getting from Fernix Prime. It looked like the EMF had deployed toxin weapons like the ones on Osdal. People were dying across the planet.

It also seemed that someone with half a brain was running the fleet. The Carriers were linked together, covering one another’s weaknesses, and they were using the Blue Moon as a backdrop to the advance. She would get one pass, but if she missed then she would be hitting the Harmony forces fighting on the planet. Hopefully she would get the Troopers, but it was a force of twenty to one. No matter what, she would be hitting Harmony Chosen or their dependents that were hiding on the moon.

The command center was unusually silent as they pushed their engines to maximum speed to hit the Carriers. Everyone knew what was happening to the people on Fernix Prime, no matter if they were combatants or civilians.

They wanted blood, it was easy to see. She had trained with them for two decades, and she could tell what they were thinking with just a glance.

“Prepare the fighters, we have an hour until we close contact. I want to go with a full spread of missiles, flush all of them. When we get up and close, hit them with railgun rounds. Make sure those damn computers are accurate; I don’t want to hit our own people on Blue Moon.” She passed the word on, knowing that they were going to get hammered for holding their rail fire until the last possible moment, so that they didn’t hit their people. The captains and the crews needed to know the plan before they went into battle. There was a high chance that she would get destroyed before they closed. Taking that much punishment from those Carriers was going to be a real fucking pain in her ass.

You didn’t take this job because it was easy, she thought, letting out her breath through her nose. Once they were past the EMF fleet then they could hammer the absolute crap out of them. They just needed to get past them.

“Battle stations,” she announced, and the lighting changed as the fighters flew out of the Cruisers, hiding behind them.

“Incoming fire,” Fernandez said from sensors.

“There’s a time to dance and a time to weather the storm,” Zeichner replied. Today they would either win their freedom from the EHC, or they would once again be folded into it.

If she died, it was a small price to pay for her people’s freedom.

Democracy is paid for in the blood of patriots. She shook her head at the old quote, but it made sense.

A wall of rounds reached out towards the Harmony fleet.

“Fire missiles to clear a path, flush out magazines, a straight line so they clear these damned rounds out of our way,” Zeichner said.

“Understood.” Baike passed on the orders to the fleet. Missiles thumped out of their tubes and rushed forward to meet the wall of rounds. It took a few minutes for the first ones to reach the rail gun rounds, then they exploded, leaving holes in the rail round’s screen.

The others followed through, hitting other screens and pushing through towards the Carriers. Missiles continued to fire in rote repetition. By the time the last missile had left the fleet, the first was reaching the EMF Carriers. Their close-in weapons systems sent out frantic lines of tracers, hitting the incoming missiles.

Shit, Zeichner thought as the CIWS ripped through her missiles. A few got close enough to make the Carriers buck a bit, but they weren’t getting close enough to crack the bastards apart or open up their armor.

Her Cruisers were racing in now. They were just minutes from engagement range. The EMFC’s main guns fired, four or five Carriers working together to make a screen of the heavier rounds.

“Cruiser Demask is hit!” Baike called out. The Carrier was hit with tens of rounds. It shook them off, cutting its engines and rotating to present its armored belly to weather the storm.

The Carriers didn’t stop. They continued to fire and the Demask continued to shake with hit after hit.

“Cruiser Liberty is also... fuck, she’s gone,” Fernandez said, helping Baike out.

Just a little bit more, Zeichner thought, listening to the frantic reports coming in, the sounds of her fleet getting ripped apart. It was almost too much but she listened, looking to the main plot and watching as they closed with the Carriers.

“Fire everything!” she cried as they reached eighty percent hit possibility. The EMF Carriers were now hitting Bulwark, causing the ship to shake and armor to buckle. She could hear the incoming rounds smashing into armor and then through it. She could feel it through her armrests.

The Harmony fleet was down to six Cruisers. They opened fire on the Carriers and the fighters that had been hiding behind in their wake moved out and rushed in to engage the Carriers.

Combat Shuttles that had been hiding behind their Carriers rose up, firing hundreds of missiles at the fighters and the Cruisers.

Rail rounds ripped through space, smashing into armor and into ships. Missiles rushed to close with their targets and CIWS blazed, trying to cut down the missiles.

It was chaos, with touches of what looked like order and a plan thrown in.

They were seconds from crossing the EMF fleet, practically over them.

“Missile launch!” Fernandez screamed as missile pods along the sides of the Carriers opened their hatches, ripple-firing missiles. They rushed out to meet the Harmony fleet.

“For Harmony, for freedom!” Zeichner yelled, watching her Cruiser crews give everything they had, pushing themselves beyond their limits to fight the EMF.

One Carrier went dead, its engines stopping but its weapons still fired. These bastards had listened to someone and followed the Reclaimer’s tactics.

Even dead in space the Carriers fought on. They were a valid opponent, they were people trying to escape Earth and the slums.

Zeichner could understand that, she was also trying to escape Earth and its choking companies. She wanted to see her children go on and have freedom from the companies.

Rounds broke through Bulwark’s belly armor, and people were ripped apart or disappeared into the mangled metal of the ship.

More rounds slammed in, turning the protective armor into shrapnel shards.

Zeichner was thrown out of her seat and onto the floor. She picked herself up, steadying herself on the railing that she’d hit. Blood was coming from a cut in her forehead and alarms were going off all over the place. Then she saw the tactical plot. The Cruiser was fighting the oncoming missiles, but there were too many. Fighters tried to help but the EMF were throwing everything at Bulwark; somehow they knew that she was here. They wanted to cut her off and throw the Cruisers into chaos.

The missiles started shaking the ship.

One made it in, and Zeichner didn’t even feel the end.

It had happened in seconds; space was filled with chaos. The Cruisers were still pushing onward, while the Harmony fighters and Combat Shuttles were dog-fighting in space. The Combat Shuttles had numbers and more weapons, the Harmony fighters had maneuverability.

One fighter started it, the others following. They rammed the Carrier Guardian and, with their built up speed and their missiles, they opened a hole in the Carrier.

The EMF fought back with everything they had but twelve more Harmony fighters smashed into different Carriers.

Three Cruisers were left intact. Only one still had operational weapons.

The damaged Carriers and their secondary Carriers that had acted like their opposite sides stayed where they were, helping one another. Those with operational pairs headed after the three Cruisers. All of them were firing on the three, there was no escaping the EMF’s fire.

The Cruisers’ inertia pushed them on, despite rocking with more hits. The EMF now controlled the Blue Moon, Fernix Prime’s Orbitals and Fernix System’s space.

Chapter 29

Factory Complex Three

Blue Moon, Fernix System

8/3294

They’d been fighting for a month and it had been hell. They were low on supplies, and low on power - problems that Harmony didn’t seem to have.

“Ah shit, I’ve got what looks like a whole friggin’ Regiment moving up on us,” Tyler said. The Reclaimer Regiment had grouped up and were advancing through the factories. Scouts had run up and seeded the area in front of them with sensor sticks, making the mass of red no more intimidating.

“Why is it that you always find trouble?” Mark asked Tyler.

“Trouble just has a way of finding me...”

“Move into defensive positions,” Tyler said to Ali and Dashtund. Che was in command of Iliev’s Section, he had been hit and was getting patched back together by the medics. His armor was also messed up and the armorers put him at ten hours before he was back in the fight. It had taken a direct order from Tyler to get him to not grab an AMR and run up to join them.

Tyler looked at the AMR wielding Troopers that were moving through the rafters of the factories. The catwalks couldn’t support powered armor, but they could hold a Trooper in normal armor.

Tyler looked at his AMR where his screamer should be.

“More like, you run headfirst into trouble while screaming ‘Geronimo, Fuckers!’” Jerome said.

“Geronimo? I’d never say Geronimo,” Tyler objected. Techs came around and sprayed the defenses that the Troopers were hiding behind; having them around was damn useful. Others topped up ammunition packs, and threw mines over the Troopers’ fronts. Little blue dots showed the explosives.

“Probably just swear… wait, what did he say on Gas Planet?” Alexis asked.

“Crap, ummm, swore and then I think he said ‘Shit, I bruised my tailbone,’” Mark said.

“Well it friggin’ hurt!” Tyler growled.

Screamers ripped through the thin atmosphere and smashed into the leading PAC forces. All across Tyler’s line they opened up. Alpha Company held the left and Charlie to the right.

These PACs understood tactics a little too well for Tyler’s tastes, and they scrambled for cover instead of charging ahead like the PACs on Osdal had.

“Alright, I want to bait these bastards in. Our tech boys and girls were nice enough to lay down a mat of mines, so I say that we put their hard work to the test. Pull back and make it look like a hasty retreat. I’m getting the techs to make up a secondary position,” Haas said, marking a new position. “I want a Platoon from each Company to the secondary position. Have a Section from the Platoons stay on the line at the secondary position, they can mark out fire positions for the rest. I want this smooth and fast. Twenty minutes.”

“Well then, Che, your Platoon is going back. Ali, Dash, pick a Section you want to send back there,” Tyler said.

Three green lights came back. Tyler knew that Che probably wanted to stay on the front line, but she had the most experience leading people other than him, and she would make sure that everything was set before the rest of the Company moved back.

The Platoon and other Sections got situated, and techs ran around with their spray-ite. Tyler started sending back other Sections until there were just two left, all of them firing at the Chosen in powered armor.

They were using their metal storm rifles from Osdal, but these had a burst function to conserve rounds and they had the training to be able to reload the damn things.

Seven of Tyler’s Troopers were black, and twelve were wounded and being hauled back to the medics.

“Pull back!” Haas said to the entire Regiment. Tyler fired and turned to run. His powered armor smashed through pipes and he jumped over a low wall, rising ten feet in the air with the low gravity. He pushed off a pipe to get back down and he saw a Trooper turn yellow below him. He let the Repulsor drop and grabbed his AMR. He landed, his boot clamps digging into the ground as he crouched and fired.

The round smashed through a PAC’s helmet and exploded inside, but Tyler didn’t have time to admire the weapon’s destructive capabilities.

The PACs were rushing out of their positions and heading right for him. He fired and moved towards the downed Trooper who’d been hit in the lower back. Their legs were, non-functional.

“Grab onto me, Trooper!” Tyler said, firing into the advancing PACs with the AMR gunners supporting him from above.

“I swear to fuck!” Mark said bowling through pipes and factory machines like the tank he was, firing as he moved to cover Tyler.

“I’m latched,” the Trooper said through gritted teeth to Tyler, his magnetic line attached to Tyler’s torso. It was supposed to be used to pull them back down if they jumped too high in the low-gravity moon’s atmosphere.

“Well, we shouldn’t let the lieutenant get his ass shot up, both of them!” Che barked. The Company was only too happy to open up, firing around the trio.

“Moving!” Tyler said, his rifle empty. He jumped for the defenses, hauling the powered-armor-wearing Trooper with him. Mark jumped backwards, still facing the PACs and firing at the same time. It made his trajectory odd, but the pings of incoming rounds made Tyler pucker right up and wish he had ten times the covering fire.

“Reduce fire!” Haas ordered. Tyler’s Company reduced their volume of fire; the others were holding their fire and waiting. Mark’s line sunk into a pile of machinery and he returned to the ground, taking off in long bounds for his Company.

The PACs, sensing blood, were running full-tilt for the Troopers’ new line that they couldn’t see through the factory machinery. Medics pulled the Trooper from Tyler and he looked along the line. His people were ready and waiting. Explosions ripped through the PACs’ lines as they found the mines.

Tyler reloaded his rifle and slapped it into his clips. He grabbed his Repulsor and used the bipod to put it on what had been a conveyor belt. It was covered in grey bumpy spray-ite.

“FIRE!” Haas barked, and the PACs that were just figuring out they were in a minefield were met with overwhelming fire power. They couldn’t see the Troopers but the Troopers’ sensor sticks were faithfully showing where they were.

Rounds tore intervening machinery apart and ripped into the Chosen’s powered armor.

A tech came by and resupplied Tyler and patched up his armor with spray-ite. Armorers moved down to fix a control circuit that had been busted up.

“Artillery coming in!” Zukic yelled.

Mortars that had been brought down to the planet ripped through the roof, and hammered the rear guard of the PACs advancing up towards the front lines that were engaged with the Reclaimer Regiment. They were boxed in with weapons fire.

No atmosphere blew out; there weren’t many sealed buildings left on Blue Moon.

“Fire support coming in!” Zukic said. A benevolent Combat Shuttle fired missiles through the now open factory roof and into the PACs.

“Advance!” Haas called.

“One, Three Platoon, support, Two with me!” Tyler yelled, his armor back to full condition as he jumped over the conveyor belt and used his line to pull himself to new cover. It was a trick that they had learned in the first week. His line reeled in and he fired, Two Platoon following him. Dashtund was riding their asses to get them moving. They had blunted the PACs’ motion, now it was time to push back while they were off balance.

“One moving up!” Ali said, his people jumping up, their lines lashing out and hauling them forward.

“Three coming in,” Che said, her people doing the same.

Platoon by Platoon, they gained their lost ground. Tracers continued to rip through the air and they moved forward even as Troopers were hit. The PACs were disorganized and scared. They might have trained forever, but the Reclaimer Regiment were veterans. They’d seen death before.

“Haas is hit!” Mark yelled.

“Mark take over, Dominguez run Charlie Company,” Zukic snapped off. He was running support with incoming mortars as well as the techs, medics and armorers.

“Continue the advance!” Mark yelled.

Tyler focused on the advance; as the Company commander he saw as people were hit, being killed or wounded. They pushed through the minefield and onwards. Tracers ripped into powered armor; the Harmony fighters were more acclimatized to the reduced gravity, but their weapons needed to be reloaded.

“Blades!” Mark called out across the Regiment.

Tyler fired on a PAC just twenty meters away. They went down, adding another iron carcass to the many that littered the floor. He didn’t even touch the floor for the bodies as he let his Repulsor swing on its strap and pulled his blade free.

Tyler yelled wordlessly as he closed with a PAC, smashing their rifle away with his left hand and plunging in his vibra-blade.

He ripped it out and moved past, cutting and hitting those close behind his first kill. They were too close to use their rifles without shooting one another.

Some drew reinforced blades that could pierce the exterior armor but couldn’t slash through it like a vibra-blade.

“Show them what Troopers can do!” Mark yelled through the Regiment’s channel and through his speakers. “No mercy!”

“No mercy!” The Troopers yelled back, angry, frustrated and scared.

Chapter 30

HC Tempest

Oort Cloud, Housapel System

8/3294

Peter frowned at the information coming in from Fernix on his bedroom displays. It was a large room with a bed that would fit five people comfortably. Instead it just held two.

“Something the matter?” Miss Choi asked, nuzzled in at his side.

“Seems that the EMF launched biologicals at Fernix,” he said, looking at the reports from Housapel Prime. They had launched biologicals at Housapel Prime as well. There were twenty remaining Carriers, and there were still five operational Harmony Cruisers looking to hit them again.

As Housapel’s Harmony forces were reeling from the biological attack, the Carriers had been hammering Harmony strong points and then inserting their Troopers.

They’d come in on a shocked enemy and they were rushing the Harmony forces with everything they had. Housapel’s Chosen were putting up a good fight, but now Housapel was a toxin-filled pit. The Chosen would have to live in their armor or spacesuits for the rest of the fight. The Troopers had been trained in their powered armor, they would have few problems living in it all the time.

“Akani?” Choi asked, tracing outlines on his chest.

“Seems that he is dead. No matter though, we have all the parts of our plan.”

“Good, let them fight our battles, it will not be long till we are waking up to victory,” Choi said, kissing his chest and his neck, distracting him from the feeds coming from across Harmony’s home planets.

He dismissed them with a wave, unable to keep his desire for Choi contained as he rolled her over, looking down on her. She giggled, her eyes shining at him as she smiled.

The war was happening out there to those that didn’t have the power to change anything. The Company officers were hidden away in safety.

They were pawns, to consolidate Peter’s power, and Harmony was a means to an end. It was all business, just in a different currency; blood instead of credits.

Peter didn’t have any trouble pushing it aside as he leaned down to kiss Choi, kissing down her neck, biting lightly as her naked body moved against his, her touches electric, her moans and shudders making him smile at his power over her.

Chapter 31

Factory Complex Three

Blue Moon, Fernix System

9/3294

Ortiz looked at the screens; they were halted. The Harmony forces were throwing people at them and the Troopers didn’t have the numbers to push through. He was thinking about pulling his forces back into a main body, currently they were too spread out with bad supply lines. They needed ammunition and charged batteries constantly.

Thankfully, the Carriers had won the Blue Moon’s orbitals. Everything was dead or dying on Fernix and the hope was that the shipyards and such that had been shut down, with just a few stragglers left on them, would die out in time.

None of them were trying to attack the Carriers or make it to the factory complexes on Fernix.

With the Carriers controlling the orbitals, it meant that they could get quick resupplies, and call in direct fire from the ships, or have the Combat Shuttles hammer close in targets with missiles and rounds.

Captain Hall had issued orders, sending a number of the Carriers to the asteroid belts and storage facilities. They had more Troopers than they could support, and the ships from Osdal were low on ammunition.

They had the plans for the new ammunition types and could fabricate it on the Carriers. It was the one thing that was making the Troopers’ lives a hell of a lot easier. The powered armor only leveled the playing field. The armorers were pulling apart the Harmony armor; it seemed that they had multiple generations and they were taking the best alterations that they could and using them on the Troopers’ armor.

The Troopers weren’t the only ones with fire support, though. The Chosen had mortars and artillery batteries. In the first month they had lost a good number of them when the Carriers hammered them into the dust. Now, they were figuring out less complex rigs that ran on timers or by remote. The Carriers still shot them up, so they didn’t get more than a few shots, but few if any were getting sleep on the Blue Moon.

The Troopers with augments were doing the best, but even they had limits. Ortiz’s people were tired and they needed a break. This was why he had called the meeting, and got his leadership together in an armored bunker.

They took off their helmets, tired men and women with the determined look of warriors bent to a task. They had passed their normal bounds weeks back, but they would do what he said without blinking an eye.

“Our people are tired, and we’re starting to see issues from sleep deprivation.” Ortiz looked around the room, and no one argued. They were supposed to be fighting machines, but they all knew that wasn’t the whole truth. “Armored bunkers are being fixed up, and I want to start rotating people off the line. Get a few people back on the Carriers for a shower, food, rest, and back in. Three days only.”

“As much as I want to fight you on this, I agree,” Haas said, throwing his support behind Ortiz. The others nodded, their weariness showing.

“Good. Now, once everyone is a hundred percent, I want to start sending raids into these bastards,” Ortiz said. “We’re going to hit them everywhere and anywhere. These groups will move into enemy territory, and their job will be to hit vital points, to call in our fire and hit them where they sleep, where they piss. I want them scared to fucking fart together.”

“Once we start they’re going to come back to us and do the same,” Captain Sholtz said.

“You know it, and that’s why I want us at a hundred percent so we can have people crossing our lines that we know and shutting down anyone else’s entry. This is going to be a long fight. We’re going to dig the fuck in like a goddamn tick and hit them everywhere,” Ortiz said.

“Now, that is something I can dig my teeth into,” Haas grinned.

“Good, because I want you and your Regiment spearheading it. You’ve done operations behind enemy lines, so I want your people to work out a plan. The other companies will be doing it as well. Listen to Haas and his people. For those that don’t know the Triple-Twos - start reading,” Ortiz said.

“Any word on resupply? We’re running low on screamers and we’re starting to use Harmony’s heavy machine guns,” Captain Obdalhi said, his dark features strained.

“I’m doing what I can, the screamers are an issue but I’ve got more AMRs in the pipeline. Captain Hall is pulling ammunition from everywhere, we might have to do combined loads of regular rounds in with the new rounds for the Repulsors,” Ortiz sighed.

“Fuck,” Sholtz said, rubbing his tired sweaty face.

“How long until we’ve got that resupply from the asteroids sorted out?” Haas asked.

“A month, maybe your boy M is up there whipping people into shape and getting things working,” Ortiz said.

Haas nodded, a small smile on his face.

“Then as soon as we damned well can get it,” Haas said with approval.

“That’s what I’m hearing,” Ortiz said, looking over the table, which had a drawn out map on it. Dust shook from the ceiling as rounds impacted nearby. No one in the bunker even flinched; they’d got used to incoming fire a long time ago.

Ortiz was thinking about Moretti. He might be a Ministry of Intelligence type, but he was good at his work and, while he wasn’t on the front lines, his work behind them was bearing fruit. While the captains had been arguing about who got to stay around the planet and walking over Captain Hall’s authority, Moretti had talked to their staff behind the scenes.

After one meeting with Hall, they took a recess and were practically begging to be told what to do. Captain Hall’s command was secured and they started acting something like the soldiers they were supposed to be, instead of the piss-ant politicians that they were.

“Now, I’m sending you the rotation of who’s going on leave when, then your side operations once we’re back at full functionality. In the meantime, Sholtz and Haas, I put in a special order with the cafeterias. I’ve got hot meals and drinks coming in,” Ortiz said.

“The Troopers are going to be happy with that,” Sholtz said, grinning.

“I hope the Victor brothers don’t eat it all,” Haas complained.

Ortiz smiled; the Jerome, Mark, and Tyler brothers were yin and yang in many ways, but they were good Troopers and they’d created a cadre of good Troopers.

A few of Obdalhi’s lieutenants, the only ones that were in reserve and able to get away from their Platoons and companies looked confused, or as if they had heard the reference before and didn’t quite get it. Most did. The Triple-Twos’ achievements were well known through the Troopers’ ranks.

Few actually believed that they or their exploits were real. One of the few times that the Ministry of Intelligence hadn’t needed to expand the stories was where the Triple-Twos were concerned.

Chapter 32

Tower

Earth, Sol System

10/3294

“The ships that we sent out to scout have stopped transmitting,” Wallace said without preamble.

“All at once??” Nivad asked.

“Periodically, over a period of several months, they’ve been falling off. We think that it might be a functional issue. We had hoped that they might try to get communications back, we even had the other scout ships bounce the signal. We don’t know what happened, but it will take at least another seventy years for them to get back to Earth,” Wallace said, his jaw tightening in annoyance.

Nivad, if he was another man, might have been storming around his office ranting and raving. “How long would it take to build more scouting ships?”

“Five more years,” Wallace said.

Even if they went out, if they too were lost then it would only prove that there was something out there. If Nivad was annoying something out there, then it looked like they had more power than him. Nivad did not want to deal with something like that. Humans he could manipulate, something else, not so sure.

If he let it lie then something might come for him, but he had his own avenues of escape. He might not have many EMF around, but he had options. Messing with something he didn’t know about didn’t give him many options.

“I want sensor nets over the nearest systems in that area. I also want the sensor net around Earth pushed further out. Make sure that it is done quietly. I don’t know what happened out there, but it is best if we assume the worst,” Nivad said.

“Yes, sir.” Wallace didn’t even blink an eye at his boss’s orders or the possibilities his words opened.

“For now, we need to focus on getting the EHC in line. Once Harmony is dealt with, there will be corporations looking to push their power. I want to make sure that we know who is plotting against us. Make sure that the squads are ready for work.”

The squads dealt with issues by making those that were talking out or being loud in their protests, disappear.

“I will see that they are ready,” Wallace said, a cruel smile marring his cold features.

I wonder why these humans care so much about their emotions? It just makes them illogical and annoying, Nivad mused.

“Fernix is turning into a long and drawn out fight, and Housapel is reeling from the biological weapons. Even though the EMF fleet in Housapel was able to defeat the Harmony fleet, I am still picking up a number of transmitters in Harmony that are receiving information from Housapel and are tied into our own markets,” Wallace said.

“Find out who it is, we might have found the real head of Harmony.” Nivad tapped his finger on his desk in thought. “I will see you at the meeting.”

Wallace bowed and Nivad ducked his head to the man. Wallace was resourceful, and making him feel appreciated was a paltry price to pay for his services.

The man also knew how to give Nivad the most information possible in a short time. He was not one for small talk and trying to make a connection. He was blunt and that was something that Nivad treasured greatly.

Chapter 33

Factory Complex Three

Blue Moon, Fernix System

10/3294

Mark stepped out of his powered armor, and his eyes and mouth closed as someone slapped his helmet on. Air rushed into his face and his smart clothes connected to his helmet.

“Well that’s a fucking terrible idea, why didn’t we do this in the bunkers?” Jerome asked, whilst putting Mark’s helmet on.

“Cause we’re hard charging motherfuckers, and who the hell else is going to say, ‘oh yeah, I took off my respirator on a moon while we’re fighting for our lives?’” Mark asked grabbing Jerome’s helmet.

“We have some of the worst fucking ideas,” Jerome complained.

“You gonna stick your head out? I’m not holding this thing to look good for the ladies,” Mark said.

“Jackass.”

“Glass hole,” Mark grinned, psyching his buddy up. Instead Jerome started laughing as he closed his eyes and mouth and undid his powered armor.

Mark slapped the helmet on Jerome and tapped it twice so he knew it was attached.

“Fucker,” Jerome said, shaking his head.

“Fucking proper comedian me, should get a show when we get back to Earth,” Mark said, moving to the armory that had been brought over by the Reclaimer Regiment.

“That was moving,” Dashtund said, still in his powered armor.

“Get out of there, yah big mutt,” Jerome said, pounding on the armor.

“Grab my helmet.”

“Fucking house maid, am I?”

Mark smiled and grabbed rifles from the armory, checking them over. The rest of the Regiment were spread out all over the place. A few other units had advisers, like Mark, Jerome, and Dashtund, but the rest were already beyond the lines and starting to throw sensor sticks all over the place to get a better image of the Blue Moon.

An explosion ripped through a roof a few hundred meters away.

Everyone seemed to jump except for the Reclaimer crew. Jerome put Dashtund’s helmet on and tapped the man. The others that would be going out with them looked at them like they were idiots as they went into a small reinforced bunker to take off their powered armor and get their helmets on.

“Catch!” Mark said, tossing AMRs to Jerome and Dashtund. They grabbed the weapons, checking the action and adjusting the buttstock to get it comfortable.

Mark pulled on a belt filled with sensor sticks, AMR rounds and a few grenades. He tossed more mags into his leg pocket.

“What do you need grenades and all that ammunition for?” the captain that they were heading out with asked.

“Just in case,” Mark said, shrugging.

“This is supposed to be just a recon mission.” The captain’s eyes thinned as if he had some way to intimidate Mark.

“Hopefully it will stay that way, but if shit goes sideways, be better to have something to fuck those Chosen fuckers up with,” Jerome said.

“We better not run into any Chosen. If we do then this whole thing is a waste of time,” the captain snapped.

“Can plan things out, but sometimes lady luck isn’t on our side. She’s a bit of a fickle bitch,” Dashtund said, clipping on his own ammunition belt and throwing things into his pocket, perusing the small armory like it was a damn retail store.

“You want matching mines with those sensor sticks, to match your grey coveralls, or do you think those spectacular grenades would accessorize your outfit better?” Mark asked dryly.

Dashtund gave him the one finger salute and Mark laughed; the captain looked like he was going to lose his shit.

“Ten creds he starts dressing down Dashtund,” Jerome slung his rifle and grabbed a belt, using his sub-vocals so his mouth wasn’t even moving.

“How long?” Mark asked.

“Ten minutes.”

“Five, maybe.”

“Dressing down, you fuckers, just admiring the full package, eh? Fucking pervs.” Dashtund lowered his finger and grabbed his final bits of gear. “So how we breaking this shit down?”

“We each take four out, get the lay of the land, see if there’s anything important out there. Eight hours,” Mark said, turning businesslike.

“I thought it was to be an entire Section? This will take forever with just twelve people,” the captain said.

“No offense, but going past the line is like crab-walking your balls over fire. First time is probably going to fuck up. Takes time to get good. If we go out there with a squad, it’s like you added a hundred pounds on top of yourself and tried it for the first time,” Dashtund said.

“So fewer people, less possibility of a fuck up, gotcha,” captain forgot-his-name said.

Wilkins, fucking Wilkins, that just sounds weird. Mark thought after looking at the man’s breastplate. No matter the man’s name, Mark’s appraisal of the man behind it went up.

“Our aim is to train these four rug rats to be the best you’ve got, then we can go back to our Regiment and they can pass their skills onto others they recognize in your units,” Mark said.

“You got dip?” Jerome asked.

“How in the fuck are you going to pack a lip?” Mark asked incredulously, pulling out a tin.

“Up the air to full, pop visor, put lip in and start going. Got an empty water back in my powered armor.”

“You’re a fucking addict,” Mark handed the tin to him.

“Aww, thanks man,” Jerome said, trying to make himself look flustered.

“Let me know if it works then I’ll give it a go.”

“Makes sense,” the captain said, getting past whatever had annoyed him about the trio’s antics and trying to get back on task.

“I like him; can we keep him?” Jerome asked in sub-vocals as he took Mark’s tin of dip. He took his glove off to grab a pinch from the tin and tossed it back to Mark. With a shaking hand he opened his helmet and shoved the pinch of chew into his lip, then closed the visor and pushed his hand back into his glove.

“That is fucking cold,” he said, holding his hand in his armpit even though it wouldn’t actually heat the hand up. His smart clothes were already doing that for him.

“I’m good,” Mark said putting the tin away. Jerome’s expression was enough to stop him from doing it.

“Sometimes I even start looking like the smart one,” Dashtund said.

Mark looked over at him, the idiot was smoking a cigarette with his visor open.

“How?” Mark asked.

“Electric lighter,” Dashtund said, holding it up.

“Cig me,” Mark said.

“I don’t know whether to be impressed, or dreading this outing,” Wilkins admitted.

“We’ll do our best, though I dunno if our best will be good enough against the Chosen?” Mark shrugged, taking a cigarette from Dashtund. He opened his visor so air was blowing on him and fighting the light atmosphere that was dragging it away.

“Sure you should be smoking next to the ammunition?” Wilkins asked.

“They’re only fired by electric pulses, and there isn’t enough oxygen to start a fire,” Mark said pulling the cigarette from his mouth and holding it up for Wilkins. In seconds it went out.

“Light!”

“I just put it away before your friggin’ science experiment,” Dashtund sighed, lighting Mark’s cigarette up again.

He couldn’t take it from his lips, otherwise the visor’s oxygen wouldn’t keep it alight.

Careful balance, probably pretty smart for someone smarter than me, Mark thought proudly as he smoked.

“Should pick out your eleven best instead of getting them all out of their armor only to get back in it again,” Jerome said.

“Why didn’t you say this before?” Wilkins asked.

“Because it’s funny to see them getting out of their powered armor like a bunch of new boots going into the coed shower,” Dashtund said.

“Right,” Wilkins said, taking a breath. He wasn’t their biggest fan, but he seemed willing to put his emotions aside for the good of his Regiment.

Wilkins started talking on a channel, and two people got out of line and went to the front. The rest dispersed and walked away, sending sullen glances at the trio who smiled and waved mockingly.

“I win,” Jerome said.

“Dick,” Mark said, transferring the credits.

“Win what?” Wilkins asked.

“We thought you’d have blown your gasket at Dashtund by now.”

“Fuckers,” Dashtund said.

“Cause of his lack of ability to remember command structure, or because he palmed a screamer rocket?” Wilkins asked.

“Didn’t think you saw that,” Dashtund said, impressed.

Wilkins grinned. “I heard the stories and I saw the videos, but unlike some others I have enough brain cells to see that most of your activities are real, not some made up ministry shit. For this, I know I’m going to be the guy doing the learning. You have the lead and authority. Do not make me take it back from you.”

“We’ll teach you as best as we can, you have our word,” Mark said, standing and holding his arm out.

Wilkins went to shake but Mark grasped his forearm, something he didn’t do with those outside of the Reclaimer crew, or those he didn’t respect.

Wilkins must have seen some of that in Mark’s eyes as he held his gaze. “Thank you, I’ll be happy to send these fuckers to their deaths. I had a cousin on Strike Station I’d like to pay them back for.”

“Oh, we’ll be killing plenty of Chosen,” Mark said, letting the rage and anger he kept hidden rise to his features. At first Wilkins looked scared, then the expression in his own eyes matched Mark’s.

Chapter 34

Asamau City

Cela, Cerey System

10/3294

Nerva was looking at the scans coming in from Harmony. One Carrier of possible legionnaires had already come and left the system and six more were on their way or already picking up possible candidates.

There were ten ships in Housapel and they were rushing to grab as many of those that wanted to be in The Legion. The EMF fleet was trying to get them, but they didn’t have the forces left to get them all. Nerva felt his mouth twist in distaste. All too many of them would die because the EMFC captains had been caring about looking good, more than they cared about killing the Harmony bastards.

Nerva felt sorry for the people caught up in the middle of all of this. They believed that Harmony could do better. Peter Quinn and Omoti Akani with their fellow corporation heads had played them. Creating a government and a religion that were intertwined, promising all that the people could want. The people had jumped for it, devoting everything for the cause. They were all pawns in Peter and Akani’s plan.

The real heads wanted power. Nerva wished that he could go in and help get the people to Roma, to save them, but it was too late. The EMF would destroy Harmony, slowly and surely, as long as they got their reinforcements and the tools.

With a few good surges, the Blue Moon in Fernix could be retaken. Thankfully, Housapel had been submitted. Their reinforcements were heading for Fernix, as the biological gas had killed millions.

The EHC needed stability, and to get that they needed to remove everything that had been Harmony. The companies gave stability, and to have their system pulled apart by governments would turn it into chaos.

Neither Harmony nor the EHC were willing to budge on their beliefs; they were just shells for competitors battling each other and trying to win.

Both sides were right and both of them were wrong. It was a fucking mess, and Nerva’s people were right in the middle of it.

He had grown a good Legion out of the forces he had been given. Cela had been living in peace for decades now. Many of the Legion had stayed for him, and their brother and sister legionnaires. Their transport was coming in days. They had been using Cela as a forward operating base, heading to the Demash System with the planet Goulag dealing with three Maraukian transport barges.

They had done five tours and still they were willing to go back into the fray. Nerva would now be heading back not as just a legate, now he would be a prima legate, the commander of all of The Legions on the planet. It was a rank he had earned hundreds of years ago.

He was a man living two lives. It was confusing, it was hell, and he hated it. He might have been forced to leave his Troopers behind, but now he also had his legionnaires to think about. He had marked all of his Troopers for possible recruitment. They had proved themselves time and time again and now they were working behind the enemy lines, in just their normal armor, and hunting down Chosen leaders.

The Chosen had a new name for them: Company Dogs.

They had taken the name to heart and painted rabid dogs on their helmets.

Nerva sighed. He was old now, and his anger and hatred were harder to rouse from his depths. The reason he used to be so cold was that he had been at Roma when it had been attacked by Maraukians for the first time. He had watched as millions of his people, including his own family, were torn apart and used as Maraukian feed as they charged the old city. It was there that he and the Troopers of three Carriers, and any other that had taken up arms, had fought off the Maraukians. It was where they had made their last stand in the five-year war.

He had been a happy family man, but he could now only remember Deliah, his daughter, and Esai, his wife. His family were grim shadows in his mind. Yet the men and women he had fought with, he saw them every night. They had been burned into his mind, as deep as his daughter and wife.

He had been cold, knowing that they were going to die as they fought Maraukians. Then he was cold as he recruited Troopers to be legionnaires. He knew that they were mass murderers, but he also knew that they were the hope for the future. The shield against the Maraukians.

With time he became cold not because of the losses at Roma and against the Maraukians, but because he knew the motivations of the companies as they were sent to slaughter colonists. He could see the mindless dulling of the Troopers as they killed because they had to, lest the companies’ ire turn on them.

He was the Iceman, because letting his emotions rule him would have driven him to tears, to madness. He still felt, and it hurt so damned bad.

Though now I know how to control it, how to reconcile that pain. He took another look at Mark’s face as he looked at Captain Wilkins.

Nerva knew those eyes; they were the ones that had looked back at him in the mirror after Roma. They were the ones that he hid from his legionnaires as he looked at the Maraukians.

He felt more free than ever: his mission was to kill a threat that would kill him and the people he protected. It felt as if it was cleaner somehow. More honorable. His people weren’t dying for companies, they died for the people at their sides and the people at home.

“Prima Legate, we are ready to depart,” NIDenise said in his mind.

Nerva stood from the chair he’d been sitting in for the last few hours, NIDenise relaying the latest information from the EHC.

Nerva wore the sand-colored fatigues of The Legion. His sleeves were rolled up to reveal his powered armor wearing white skin. On one arm was the tattoo of a Trooper, on the other was his legion brand. Both barely peeked from under his rolled up sleeves.

People walked in. Another legionnaire off to war, this one older than his muscled body looked. The dropship cargo master looked at Nerva, and nodded his head as if sensing a warrior beneath those fatigues.

“Let’s get this thing on the road, I have a Maraukian horde to repel,” Nerva said.

“That you do.” Legate Harold was previously Captain Harold of the EMF, a man who had died on Masoul’s gas planet.

They braced arms and Nerva sat down as the dropship’s ramp closed and the engines pushed them away from Cela.

“You been looking at the reports coming from the EHC?” Harold asked.

“Yeah,” Nerva said darkly.

“We’ll get them into The Legion, they’ll beat those Harmony fucks.”

“They’re just people trying to have a good life,” Nerva countered.

“People that allowed others touting their name to rape, torture and murder until they controlled a population that didn’t want Harmony there in the first place?” Harold’s voice was hard. “They might not have known everything, but they blinded themselves to the truth. They didn’t care.”

“So for that it’s okay to kill them all?” Nerva was more curious than accusatory.

“Leave one of them alive and it might happen again. That’s why we fight wars, that’s why we fight the Maraukians: to kill all the bastards and stop what they do from ever happening again. Some things can only be solved with violence. Maybe in the beginning this could have been dealt with peacefully, but now? Now they’re both too dug in to do anything about it. Hatred runs deep once the bullets start flying.”

“Yeah,” Nerva nodded, sighing.

“Plus, once they get out here, then maybe they can stop using that terrible frigging chant I died to.”

Nerva couldn’t help but smile. He might be Iceman but, every so often, a bit of emotion seeped through his mask.

Chapter 35

Factory Complex Three

Blue Moon, Fernix System

10/3294

General Ando stood from his bunker. His people had tried to stop him from walking the lines and talking to his people. They had tried and failed. He needed to keep his people’s hopes up. Having them out there and him cowering behind defenses while they had the numerical superiority wouldn’t work for him. They knew the land better than any of these Troopers, and he needed to show his faith in them.

They had been working their way into the Chosen’s lines. He didn’t know how they were doing, but artillery strikes were more accurate than ever and his people were dying all across Blue Moon. They couldn’t sleep, and they couldn’t get out of their armor to get some sleep without being scared that they were going to get bombed. The Troopers might just have mortars, but their Carriers had heavy rail-cannon that could punch through any defenses.

I wish I had been able to help Admiral Zeichner more, he thought. They had butted heads and he had pulled funding from her. It had been short-sighted. Now his people were paying for it in the worst way.

It was the least he could do to walk the lines.

“Alright Clarence, let’s go and say hi to our people,” Ando said rolling his shoulders and stepping into his powered armor.

It was the least he could do to try and comfort the Chosen that fought for Harmony’s cause.

****

Tyler hadn’t seen Mark in a while. After they had got a few days’ rest, they had been working on getting together people who were capable of going into what was no-man’s land to hit the Chosen.

That was still ongoing, but Ortiz had come up with a mission for Mark and Tyler.

There was some kind of commander checking out defenses in an area. Ortiz wanted him taken out; Tyler was the best shot and Mark was the best at close quarters.

He’d been hesitant, but the brothers had caught wind of the operation and he’d given it to them.

Now they were moving across catwalks as the lines raged below. Heavy machine guns sounded like they were miles away instead of right below as they stepped over broken Sections of the walkway.

Mark slung his rifle and grabbed the catwalk’s railing and ambled over to the other side of the walkway. He pulled himself up and brought his rifle around.

“Seems that our times fucking about trying to get recon on gangs’ strongholds are coming in useful,” Tyler said, using the catwalk railing hand over hand to get to the other side. If he let go, it was a hundred-and-fifty-foot drop to the war-torn landscape below. Explosions showered dirt that hadn’t been seen in decades underneath the factories, sending cermite ships everywhere.

“Just a bigger game,” Mark said moving forward. He was silent and watchful, looking out for anything and everything that might be a threat.

“Do you ever wish we stayed?” Tyler asked as they entered a broken pipe and Mark picked up his pace. His AMR was up and ready, but still silent.

“Sometimes, but no. I would never let go of this life for the existence in the slums. We might still be fighting and killing, but we have a family here, even if too many of them have died.” Mark couldn’t hide the harsh tone in his voice. “Yet, we have a life here; on Earth we would have simply existed. As fucked as this sounds, I’m happy that we have Harmony to fight. I can feel good about killing these people. On Sacremon, I just felt dirty. Those people were fighting for their freedom, these people are just fighting for a new kind of slavery.” Mark waved his arm at the Chosen below, his trigger hand never leaving the gun.

“Yeah, I think you’re right,” Tyler said. “For a time I thought I’d lost you to the anger.”

“I nearly was. Only you, Alexis, Jerome, the Triple-Twos and now the Dogs kept me from going over the edge.” Mark paused, and Tyler could see the muscles in his back moving his armor as they flexed and relaxed. “That isn’t saying that I’m not looking forward to killing every last Chosen. I’m going to enjoy killing those bastards. I might have nightmares from those that I’ve lost, and I’ll have nightmares of the battles to come, but killing the Chosen, I will never regret that.”

Mark continued moving faster than before. Tyler didn’t try to change his mind. No, he thought instead of what he would do if someone took Alexis, skinned her, was about to rape her before they had been married. Even then, without any of the experiences he’d had since, he knew that he might not be able to control himself. Mark was a stronger man than him in many ways, but he was also the angriest bastard. He loved him and admired his self-control. He also feared the day that self-control snapped.

“Let’s go find that commander fucker; you want his lackeys?”

“I’d be happy to.”

***

“You see him?” Mark asked.

“Of course I see him. I also see the twenty or so bastards crowding around him like he’s just hit retirement and he went to a goddamn brothel,” Tyler said.

“A simple yes would’ve done.”

Tyler hit his brother in the shoulder and Mark laughed,

“You’re a real pain in the ass,” Tyler said, feeling the tension he hadn’t known was creeping in, fall away. It seemed that Mark had seen it.

“Should have figured that out by now bro.”

They were in some kind of office, and Tyler was lying on a table three feet from the window. Mark was next to him, using some kind of console to steady his aim.

“Did you get the diversion ready?” Tyler asked.

“Yes…” Something in the slow way Mark said it made Tyler want to look at his brother.

“Anything I should know?”

“I hope you have your running shoes.”

Mark had taken seven hours to figure out his ‘diversion’, and set it up.

“Okay,” Tyler said, taking an extra breath as the commander started moving away from the rallied Chosen.

“They look pretty good in those uniforms, eh?” Mark said.

“Yeah, better than our dull gray asses,” Tyler said, knowing that Mark was talking to cut off their nerves.

“You got a shot?”

“Nearly,” Tyler said, the word sub-vocal as he circulated air through his lungs slowly and carefully, lowering his heartbeat. The shot was a kilometer away. They had been waiting five days, watching a ten kilometer stretch of defensive works and factories that had been opened by indirect fire. A few times they’d nearly been hit by their own people.

They’d carefully mapped all of the enemy positions, and Moretti was holding onto them.

“Ready,” Tyler said.

“Good to go.” Mark’s conversational tone cooled, his own breathing becoming slow and rhythmic.

Tyler let out his breath, his heartrate so low his vision was dimming, and his finger pulled on the trigger, slowly, as his heart paused between beats.

The gun bucked into his shoulder and he rode the recoil, the muzzle brake throwing dust and debris back in a cone. The free floating barrel came back with the force of a battering ram, and the air ejected from him in a slow breath. He registered the casing ejected from his gun and he saw its round smash into the commander’s neck. The helmet came off in a spray of blood.

“That’s my brother!” Mark cried, and he fired, twisting his point of aim and firing again. Tyler looked for new targets; they’d each marked their own victims. Tyler sent rounds down range as Mark slapped in a new magazine and reloaded. Mark wasn’t as skilled, but he could hit someone closer than eight hundred meters with decent accuracy. Tyler took out the further targets.

The area turned to chaos as people started running for cover, their peace and safety shattered as their leader’s armor was punctured and torn apart. Tyler slotted in a new magazine and saw people looking in their direction.

“Time to move!”

“Moretti, send those fucking fire orders!” Mark barked, pulling Tyler off of the table. Tyler got his feet under him as rounds started hitting the office. They moved like the slum dwellers they were, jumping over obstacles, falling and rolling to their feet as tracer fire ripped around them. Mark dropped and turned as someone got on the catwalks and three rounds boomed as they went flailing back into their buddies. Tyler ran on as Mark ran to catch up.

“Move into position, and run you dumb bastards, you’re still in the fucking impact area!” Moretti hissed, his voice pitched low for wherever he was, but his feelings were clear.

“We’re fucking trying!”

Tyler grabbed his rifle in one hand, vaulting over a pipe with the other, and explosions went off behind them as mines slowed down their pursuers.

“That your distraction?” Tyler asked.

“Oh, not yet,” Mark said, sounding rather pleased with himself.

“You going to activate it any time soon?” Powered armor was moving underneath their catwalks to fire on them.

“Nope, roof!” Mark said, grunting. He showed red; he’d been hit by the tracers ripping up into the catwalks.

They came to an open Section of factory roofing, and Tyler jumped. He hadn’t used his full strength in months, and he felt like a God as he was thrown out into the Blue Moon’s sky. He used his mag-cord to bring himself back down.

“Incoming,” Moretti warned as a Carrier’s hulk moved over the two of them.

Tyler waved at the Carrier and Mark jumped past him, his cord coming out of his belt and slapping a roof, pulling him back down. So they moved, jumping forward across the roofs and using their mag-cords to pull them back down.

The rail gun rounds shimmered, entering the Blue Moon’s slight atmosphere, and they crashed into the defenses Mark and Tyler had recorded. At first it was the small rail cannon, then the large ones came down. They didn’t simply rip into factories, they tore them apart, they disappeared, and their contents exploded upwards and away from the small planet.

“Watch this,” Mark said, sounding pleased with himself even with the wet noise of his breathing. He’d been hit in the leg, so they paused on the roof tops and Tyler sprayed Mark’s wounds.

“Polarize those lenses,” Mark said.

“I can’t see, dick,” Tyler said, putting the sealant away by feel.

Seconds later, an explosion the likes of which Tyler had never seen before made several factories simply evaporate in a ball of fire. The air around them, even as thin as it was, whipped at them as it was sucked in and then thrown out.

“Shit, for the record I blame you,” Mark said, jumping the hell away.

“What?! I never told you to make a fucking nuke!”

“You never told me to not make a nuke,” Mark replied.

“How the hell did you do it? Why did you do it??”

“I turned it back on with command controls, then I used some of the explosives and a few armor plates, and shaped charge right through the heavy water lines. Seems the Chosen knew that the companies shut down reactors. They didn’t fucking think we’d turn it back on. That was some kind of command center. I tracked our commander dude to it.”

“Fuck sakes.” Tyler glanced at the destruction that had been left behind by the nuke. There had to be some twenty square kilometers cut out of the surface of the planet.

“Mark, did you have something to do with that nuclear blast?” Ortiz asked through the channel, sounding as if he knew it was Mark, but he was waiting for his petulant child to admit it.

“Sir, I have it on good authority that the Chosen are going to be rattled in their fucking cages right now. Tyler took that commander out,” Mark sidestepped the whole nuke thing.

“Tyler, you agree?” Ortiz asked.

“Yeah, they’re pretty screwed up, we’ve got all of them in that area pretty rattled right now. Might have just eviscerated their command and control,” Tyler said, switching from being Mark Victor’s brother to his fellow lieutenant. They needed every advantage possible, and this was a biggie.

“Mark said as much before, the Troopers are ready. Dogs are taking the center, hurry it up!” Ortiz said.

“Why didn’t you tell me that you told Ortiz to assault right after we took the shot?” Tyler said.

“Didn’t want you to start thinking about it,” Mark said, his voice sincere.

Tyler knew that he would have been wrapped up in his own head if he’d known, and thinking about whether his people were ready, instead of taking the shot. Or thinking about the nuke his brother had made. Mark didn’t lie to him normally, but if he did then he had damn good reasons. “Thanks, bro.”

“Nah worries SWAS,” Mark said, dropping through a hole in the roof. They just needed to make it through the pipes and they’d be back in safe territory.

Tyler looked at his HUD. It looked like the festivities had already been kicked off; the line was a ragged mess of tracers, and Combat Shuttles were coming in closer than was healthy, laying cannon and auto-turret fire into the bastards.

Chapter 36

EMFC Fearless

Fernix Prime’s Orbit, Fernix System

10/3294

Moretti watched as the Victor brothers escaped the possible impact area of the incoming Carrier’s rounds. That calm was replaced with shock as a nuclear explosion ripped through factories, throwing what was left of them into the atmosphere or outwards into other factories. The destruction was brilliant and quick. Debris shone in starlight as they tumbled away from Blue Moon’s low gravity.

Moretti sighed and rubbed his face.

“Something the matter?” Captain Hall asked.

“No, captain,” Moretti said, his head coming up as he looked at the big crater in Blue Moon.

“Those Trooper boys seem to be having a lot of fun down there wrecking shit,” Captain Hall observed.

“That they do,” Moretti agreed.

Hall’s eyes unfocused as he accessed something on his implants. “Well it looks like we’re on close support for a rush. Our people are going to use the Chosen’s unfortunate disorganization to attack them. Get all of the Combat Shuttles on standby crewed. Have the guns run out and ready to fire.”

“We’re still low on ammunition, captain,” Celik at weapons said.

“Guy, make sure that we have one of the Carriers over this place at all times. I want the Carrier with the most ammunition overhead after us. They’re to level targets with prejudice,” Hall said.

“On it.”

“I think I’m going to go to the Trooper command center,” Moretti said.

“Certainly, M,” Hall said bowing his head to Moretti. Moretti bowed his head back and left the storage room. He needed to make sure that Fearless’s Troopers weren’t the only ones making advantage of whatever Mark had done.

Sure as hell wasn’t Tyler that made a nuke, Moretti thought, keeping himself from shaking his head and sighing around the other people in the Carrier.

Chapter 37

Factory Complex Three

Blue Moon, Fernix System

10/3294

Mark barely touched the tube, kicking off it and throwing himself forward. He checked his HUD and saw that the ships that were moving into position already.

More strikes were coming in as the sensor sticks that the scouting parties had put out identified Chosen targets.

Combat Shuttles rolled low and dangerous, their thrust making the factories shake, their auto-turrets and cannons stitching lines of tracer through the thin cover that the factories offered.

Missiles sent out short-lived fireballs.

Mark got to the end of the tunnel and Tyler was right behind him.

“How are you?” Tyler asked.

“Just a bit of shrapnel,” Mark said, his words belying his injury.

It wasn’t nearly as bad as some of the injuries he’d had, and he could keep going. He wasn’t going to let his Company out into the field without their lieutenant.

Mark jumped over a railing and pushed against it with his legs. “Incoming devil dogs!” They came in from forty feet above, and the gravity was low as all hell. He used catwalks and machines to slow his descent, coming out over the dogs’ lines. They were all formed up and ready, while techs and armorers rushed around to make sure that they were functional.

“Bout damn time!” Haas yelled.

Mark and Tyler laughed as they shot their lines out of their armor, being pulled towards where their powered armor was being stored. Mark dropped and rolled, releasing the cable. A dust cloud rose around him as he pushed off for the armory bunker. His armor was next to Tyler’s, ten feet away, but he turned around and pushed against the wall. Techs and armorers got out of his way as he flew backwards and landed in his armor. A tech put a hand on his chest to keep him in it instead of flying off. Mark pulled off his AMR and slapped it into his ammunition pack’s clips.

A tech attached AMR ammunition to the outside of his powered armor, and an armorer checked the readings.

“How we looking?” Mark asked, opening a channel to the armorer as he looped his fingers into the powered armor’s hands.

“Good to go,” he said, pulling out their cords from the powered armor’s internals.

“Ammo? Power?” Mark asked. Tyler was putting his AMR on his pack next to him.

“Good on both counts, got an emergency face mask in there too,” the armorer said.

“Good, can you take my helmet off before I seal up fully?” Mark asked, his armor sealing and locking around him.

“You Devil Dogs are fucking insane,” the armorer said, though he didn’t say no as he put his leads and surface away, ready.

“Well this is going to suck,” Tyler said, his armor closing around his arms and chest.

“You know it,” Mark replied, his armor all sealed up except for his helmet.

He grabbed his Repulsor from its rack beside the powered armor, stepping out of the charger. The power leads disconnected and took a knee so that his head was chest height with the armorer.

“Ready?” Mark asked.

“Fuck no.” The armorer held onto the sides of his helmet.

“Three, two, one.” Mark closed his mouth and eyes, breathing out of his nose. His helmet came off, and he used the implant screen he saw on the inside of his eyelids to close his powered armor’s integrated helmet.

It closed and locked with a loud metal on metal sound in barely a second.

Fresh air filled Mark’s breathing area, and heat flowed in as well. He opened his eyes; they hurt from the cold and his nose felt like he’d sniffed napalm.

Mark’s HUD was coming online, showing the armory, and he was green on all of his systems.

“Next time you have a brilliant idea, please remind me to knock you out,” Tyler said.

“Please do.” Mark was not having the best record for great plans today. He moved for the armory entrance, and people moved out of the way; obstructing powered armor was a quick way to have a shitty day.

None of them could see the smile on his face as he thought of the nuke he’d made, or the fifteen kilometers of destruction it had left in its wake.

Mark jumped once he was clear of the armory, and with a few long bounds he got to the Devil Dogs that were ready and waiting.

“Good luck and watch your back, Tyler,” Mark said.

“You too,” Tyler said. Neither of their words were empty. They couldn’t directly watch one another’s back, like they had just minutes ago, yet they trusted that one another’s Troopers would do the job. That kind of trust wasn’t given out every day.

“Dominguez! How we looking?”

“Dumb, ugly, and ready to fight… oh wait, you were asking how we’re looking not how you’re looking! In that case, we’re a hundred percent, all accounted for, full charge, full ammo.” Her joking tone turned serious.

“Damn upstart, Company sergeant majors,” Mark muttered, smiling.

“We have good hearing, lieutenant. Heard you set off a nuke.”

“Fucking saw it,” Niemi said.

“Took out half the factory complex,” Ko added.

“I might have had something to do with a nuclear reactor losing stability,” Mark said, reviewing his messages and commands and checking the condensed report Dominguez had ready for him.

In minutes he was up to date with everything that had happened to the Company. They were down another five Troopers and eight more were wounded too badly to come along.

Another explosion seemed to rip through the moon in the direction of the nuclear reactor.

“Looks like a few of the rods weren’t out in the open fully. Just had another nuke go off right as the Harmony fucks were looking around for their buddies,” Waz said.

Mark grunted.

“Looks like some of the nuke rods made it to the moon’s actual surface. Some of those rods are melting their way through the ground. If they hit some ice, well, I hope you lot are ready for a firework show,” Ko said.

“Listen up!” Ortiz said overriding everyone’s channels. Everyone promptly shut the fuck up and waited.

“Devil Dogs, you will be the vanguard. We’re going to run through Chosen’s lines and push deep into their territory. Our aim is to sow sensor sticks across the battlefield. I want to know everywhere there’s a Chosen. Hit the enemy and move on. Do not get stuck into any long conflicts. Priority targets are command areas, armories, and supply dumps. All Platoons will have Carrier and Combat Shuttle support, so you see a nice target, send the coordinates higher and someone will fuck it up. Do not stop, do not pause, and do not have mercy,” Ortiz said, his voice raw and hungry.

“No mercy!” They all chanted in reply; the Devil Dog Regiment, the five other Regiments that were pushing out, and the twenty others that were staying behind in their main position. It was a terrifying noise for those Chosen that heard it. For the Troopers, it was a cold promise as they checked their weapons.

“Ko, Niemi, Waz, I’ll set a general direction, you operate your Platoons accordingly. If I see something that needs to be done, I’ll point it out. You see something interesting, let me know and I’ll look into turning it into a pile of dust and bringing the Company on target,” Mark said. He wanted them all on the same page.

Three green lights showed on his HUD.

“Two minutes!” Zukic yelled out to the Regiment. Last checks were made, and powered armor moved, their footsteps throwing up angry dust into the air.

Mark checked his Repulsor’s belt feed, taking it out and putting it back in and cocking the action on the big gun. It worked smoothly. He grabbed his blade on his left side, it came free easily, was fully charged and, while it had scratches on it, there were no chips in its edge. He slid it back home and checked the AMR. It moved easily and he was good.

He let out a breath to calm himself, his augments caught onto his actions and pumped in chemicals and hormones that would calm and focus him.

He breathed through his nose, taking in the cold air and chemicals. He smelled like sweat and his armor smelt like oil, metal, and plastics.

“Fuck, I hate waiting,” Dominguez said on a private channel.

“Me too, luxuries of a higher rank,” Mark replied dryly.

Dominguez snorted and Mark grinned, his own nerves making his stomach a soup of acid and nausea.

“Move out!” Zukic said.

“On me Devil Dogs!” Haas yelled, his powered armor pushing out ahead in the odd ground-eating lope of the powered armor working in low gravity.

He was tilted just above the ground, his footsteps throwing him forward at alarming speed. He looked more like a racing bike instead of a person.

“Move it!” Mark growled, and as one the entire Regiment surged forwards.

They were all tilted and pushing off of the ground whenever they came in contact. They rushed through torn up factory equipment. They had started a few kilometers from the actual lines that had been drawn through the factories and Combat Shuttles were still coming in across them, hammering the Chosen that were holding onto that line with everything they had.

Mark looked around. It felt more like they were horse riders rushing towards their enemy than mortal men. Their armor hit pipes and debris, sending it flying as they accelerated faster and faster.

“No mercy!” Haas said.

“No mercy!” The cry ripped out of Mark and the other Troopers’ lungs as they came out into the open of the lines. Five hundred heavy powered-armor-wearing men and women, Troopers to the last soul.

Red carats filled Mark’s view.

“Watch your fi...” A gurgling filled the channel as Zukic’s powered armor tumbled.

Mark’s Repulsor fired, but it wasn’t the chainsaw it usually was. The recoil dampener stopped it from throwing him backwards or sideways.

“Make sure you don’t hit any friendlies!” Mark said, taking over for Zukic who was showing red on his HUD.

Others were falling as they rushed forward.

Mark fired and moved, checking his HUD. He’d got to the point where he watched his HUD and let his training take over for fighting the battle.

They didn’t pause, and their tracers ripped into powered armor or made the Chosen dive for cover.

It took minutes for them to cross the line, where they jumped over the Chosen and continued on.

“Rear rank give those fuckers some grenades,” Jerome said.

Mark had his Company around him as they moved forward, smashing through the factory like human shaped bulldozers. They shook off walls and debris, and tossed pipes into space.

“Contact!” Ko called out, and red carats appeared. Mark saw the Chosen reinforcements that were making up a second line for their friends to pull back to. They were hastily building it and hadn’t yet got the message that the Troopers had smashed through the first lines.

“Incoming support!” Juarez, his warrant, said, as auto cannon opened up the factory roof, diving low and firing into the Chosen. Missiles made Mark’s visor tint darker as streams of tracers were traded between the Regiment and any Chosen that had a weapon nearby.

These weren’t even PACs, just regular Chosen. Their wearable armor was little protection against the Repulsor and its rounds.

Mark checked his HUD; the Regiment was fanned out in a half circle surging forward and firing outwards at any Chosen they found. Techs and their sensitive powered armor were covering the area in sensor sticks as they moved. They didn’t pause or slow.

The Carrier Fearless was kilometers away in support. Combat Shuttles were flying directly above the Devil Dogs in an arrowhead formation. As he watched, the Combat Shuttles pushed outwards more so that their wings were outside of the Regiment’s lines. Their auto-turrets lanced fire down around the Regiment, taking out any clusters of Chosen that appeared on the Troopers’ HUD and their sensors.

Four groups of two shuttles were back and above them. Two split off, coming in on a gun run, laying auto-cannon and missiles into the Chosen that someone had targeted.

Mark fired on a Chosen hiding up in the catwalks. They were one of the bolt-action rifle users. They were good and their guns could punch through PA if it hit the right spot. Mark’s rounds ripped the person and their cover apart as he looked towards the front. They were still rushing ahead. His Company had lost twenty people already, but the armorers had fitted booby traps to the armor. The Chosen weren’t going to get their remains or their armor.

“Mark, you’re Regiment sergeant major if I go down,” Haas’s voice was harsh, talking to the Company sergeant majors and above.

“Yes, sir,” Mark said, not even thinking about hitting the green light as his jaw worked.

Rounds pinged on Mark’s armor, and he side-stepped, getting himself out of the heavy machine gun’s line of fire. Other Devil Dogs fired back, and the machine gun went silent.

They had sporadic contact, they were behind the Chosen lines.

Platoons started peeling off as they found armories and supply depots.

“Got a defensive position, calling in fire,” Waz said.

“Understood, rest keep moving, we need to find as much to fuck with as possible,” Mark said. Red carats were appearing on his map as they started finding the rear areas with resting Chosen that had come back from the lines or were preparing to go up to them.

The Combat Shuttles’ fire picked up as they spread out again and raked through the Chosen before the Devil Dogs came into view, leaving them scared and confused as the Troopers fired on them.

They fought back, but it was like a sandbar in the ocean. Many were regular Chosen instead of PACs. Even the majority of the PACs were out of their armor.

“Niemi, take that armory, Ko with me, let’s get that cafeteria,” Mark said, indicating the two larger facilities that had been erected in, under, and through the factories floor.

Two twin green lights came back on his HUD.

Chapter 38

Combat Shuttle Two-One-Four

Blue Moon, Fernix System

10/3294

“Coming in, low and fast,” Yu said to Bernice, the other pilot on his wing.

He felt his shuttle’s weapon systems as Young and Bobbie fired the auto-turrets, ripping through factory roofs and flooring.

Targets were everywhere. Yu fired his auto-cannon, raking a Chosen line.

Yu fired missiles on present targets. They smashed through roofs, turning them into ragged open metal. The targets below were hit by the following Combat Shuttle.

Yu rolled up and away as Chosen heavy machine guns with sights set in the sky started filling it with tracer fie.

He heard the chilling noise of rain on a tin roof; they were being hit by the Chosen.

“Missile launch!” Young yelled as alarms went off.

Yu rolled the craft down, just meters above the factories, and debris that was floating away from the moon’s surface was ripped into the air with the passing of his Combat Shuttle. The auto-turrets went on point defense.

Yu was flushing missiles out, trying to hit marked targets and give the enemy missiles less to detonate.

Yu didn’t need to look back to feel the massive ammunition lockers that took up Bobbie’s cargo hold. There were hundreds of thousands of rounds back there.

He skewed right and spun, letting out flares as auto-turrets took down two missiles. Fire from the Combat Shuttles above the Devil Dogs’ formation got the other two as Yu brought the craft around.

“Fucking hell,” Bernice said, sounding breathless and scared.

“Damn straight.” Yu dropped the throttle as he looked for more targets; he didn’t have time to think about how close he’d been to death. There were still Troopers down there and Chosen to kill.

An armory went up under a barrage of auto-cannon fire. Its fireball ripped up into the air, and it was short-lived but it still pushed Yu’s Combat Shuttle to the side.

He rolled with it, angling his flaps and using his thrusters.

“Damn, I hate flying in this almost space, almost atmosphere,” Yu muttered.

“My damn stomach agrees!” Bobbie yelled back.

“We all know that you have that augment to deal with nausea,” Young quipped. Her hands were flying over the console, identifying targets and working with their sister combat ship to take down targets and conserve ammunition.

“Fine, well I am friggin cross-eyed looking at all this crap sideways and upside down, and fucking twisting around like a fucking tornado,” Bobbie complained. “I need a beer.”

Yu couldn’t help but laugh as he threw his Combat Shuttle into another dive. “I’ll get you one if you can get those heavy machine gun fucks off of my right side.” Yu targeted the guns with his implants.

“Never just a yes with you, is it?” Bobbie commented. Moments later, auto-turrets were ripping angry tracers at the heavy machine gun positions that were lighting up the sky with their own angry tracers.

“New coordinates, we’ve got an armory,” Young said.

“If I worked this hard back in the slums I’d own the friggin place!” Bobbie spat.

“You dipping?” Yu asked, taking them on the track for the armory.

“Yeah.”

“Nasty fuck,” Young complained.

“Haas does it too!”

Yu tilted the craft downwards, and rounds hit off the Combat Shuttle’s armor. He returned their fire, auto-cannon style. The Combat Shuttle shook as he fired, the deep bassy thump of rounds ripping into the positions he could see through the opened roofs of factories. Cermite, dirt, metal, and people were hit with exploding shells.

There were considerably fewer red markers when he pulled up and tilted slightly, coming high to get Young a better firing solution.

Bernice came in from the left, bleeding speed, all of her guns firing and her auto-cannon getting whoever Yu had missed.

“Not when he’s with me!” Young said back.

Bobbie sighed and spat again.

“Fuck this is one hell of a job,” Yu said, chewing on his gum violently.

“Firing solution, firing,” Young said. “We’re going to need more missiles.” Four missiles streaked out from the under-wing missile launchers and their angry red trails hurled them towards their target.

This one was a factory that had had its roof removed by some kind of ordinance.

Yu looked to the ammunition magazines; they had a ton of rounds, but they were down to half of their missiles.

“Let me know when we’ve got ten missiles left,” Yu said.

Two of the four missiles impacted, and they dug deep into the bunker. The factory disappeared as munitions went off and debris was thrown into the air.

“Course!” Yu yelled, focusing on his piloting as he started dodging metal plates, pipes, bits of machinery, cermite, and people.

Young didn’t respond, she was quickly sending him information and a new flight path.

“Fuck,” Bobbie cursed as a new alert flashed through Yu’s HUD, but he didn’t have time to look at it. It was taking all of his piloting skills to miss and swerve around debris. With some of it he could do no better than plow through what looked to be the least damaging.

The auto-turrets started firing on defense.

“Talk to me, Bobbie,” Yu said, flying as if his life and his friends’ lives depended on it.

“Fucking missile launch.”

“Fuck,” Yu hissed, as near-alarms started going off.

An explosion made his back end kick out as he started to see the end of the debris field. He saw the effects of rail-gun rounds, and the moon throwing factories into the air with the impacts of Carrier weaponry. Tracers tore into the sky and down towards it. Missiles followed suit.

Combat Shuttles were hit and turned into fiery explosions, or swerved away from the planet. The unlucky ones dove into the factories, ripping through machinery and storage until they were torn apart or destroyed.

Another explosion sent debris shifting all around him.

“Our wing mate is gone,” Bobbie said, his voice dull.

“Coming out of the debris field,” Young said, as another explosion buffeted them and alarms rang out for damaged systems.

Bobbie turned them off as Yu cleared the debris field, but the auto-turrets caught the last few missiles. Yu took them high and towards the arrowhead Combat Shuttle formation over the Devil Dogs.

“Report,” Yu asked, even as Young was sending missiles at a new target and auto-turrets were raking Chosen positions. The Devil Dogs had barely slowed as they moved through, designating targets, shooting up Chosen, and generally rolling through the Chosen’s rearguard.

“Left wing’s fucked up, thrusters are a bit screwy. Wouldn’t want to fire the missiles out of those tubes, got shrapnel. The cargo hold has got skylights.”

“I’m running on a few primary control runs, mostly secondary and tertiary systems. Moving missiles from left tubes to right,” Young said.

Yu listened and looked at the HUD of his shuttle with highlighted damaged areas. He pulled the shuttle side to side to test its control and winced. “I’m calling it. Young, talk to flight control, get us a new Combat Shuttle and get this one ready to be stripped of ammo and patched up. You too, Bobbie.”

More missiles fired out of their right tubes and they drained their right missile rack. Hopefully it would help the people on the ground.

“New track, going to Fearless, they’ll have a new ride ready for us,” Young said as squares made a path to the Carrier looming overhead.

“Got it,” Yu said, pushing up for the Carrier through the flight plan’s squares.

Chapter 39

Factory Complex Three

Blue Moon, Fernix System

10/3294

“Fuuucking shit,” Jerome said as missiles hit an armory nearly five kilometers away. It tore up factories and sent people sprawling. Jerome rolled, and came up with his Repulsor. He moved forward with his boots clamping to the floor as he fired at the Chosen, raking their ranks with fire.

A Combat Shuttle came overhead, the fire opening up new skylights in the factory ceiling and cutting down Chosen below.

“Tal, get your people up high!” Jerome shouted. Dooks and Sasaki’s people were moving up on either side, firing at the Chosen.

An blast went off as a machine exploded and four Troopers were killed, three were wounded.

A red light lit up Jerome’s HUD as he heard a grunt.

Shit. Jerome thought, and already the Company was advancing ahead of him. He released his Repulsor, letting it dangle as he moved to the wounded. Medics were heading up but they were slower and keeping out of the line of fire as much as possible.

He found Alexis; she’d been hit with shrapnel that had carved into her torso and up into her stomach.

There was a blood mist coming out of her, as the thin atmosphere meant her blood and internals were being pulled out.

“Stay still,” Jerome said, as she started moving and yelling. He stuck a line to the floor, reeling himself in as she pulled a modified sealant can, designed for his PA hands. He sprayed it liberally over the wound.

“Fuuuuuck!” she screamed through gritted teeth. Jerome finished and she grunted. “Get the others.”

“Damn straight, you ain’t a Victor for nothing, keep it together,” Jerome ordered, moving to the next wounded who was knocked out, with a bad concussion. The other had bled out too much through their leg and their face was mangled up.

“Kill me, please, hurts so much,” she asked.

“Go in peace sister,” Jerome said, his blade coming down in one quick motion and stabbing up into her skull.

He flicked the blood off the blade, his face like stone.

The medics took a few more minutes, and got to work on Alexis and the knocked out Trooper.

Jerome turned and headed forward, checking his casualties and dead. It was a telling number and it cut him to his soul.

A missile - by design or by sheer luck on the Chosen’s side - hit Tyler’s Company, and Jerome’s HUD changed to show Ali as a black mark on his HUD. They were doing damage, but they were getting torn apart.

“Haas we’re going to need a Combat Shuttle to get our wounded out of here,” Jerome said.

There was a pause.

“Find an evac point and call them in,” Haas said, sounding out of breath and as if he was talking through his teeth. A glance showed he was yellow; walking wounded.

“Yes, sir,” Jerome said, moving up to the forward elements of his Company. Without Alexis, he had no sergeant major. “Dooks, take command if I go down.”

“Yes, sir,” Dooks said. Tal and Sasaki displayed green lights to show that they understood.

Jerome looked at his HUD and found an open looking area, and he marked it as a possible evac point and sent it to the Combat Shuttles. They could figure out the best place for an evacuation area, he needed to be with his people and organizing them.

“Up in the catwalks now,” Tal said. His entire Platoon spread out and covered the rest of the Company from above.

Jerome greened up, watching as Tal’s Platoon rained tracers and their remaining screamers down on the Chosen positions.

Mortars started coming in, and their rounds ripped through roofs, machinery, catwalks, and people. A few caught Chosen or nothing, others got Troopers.

Jerome gritted his teeth against the pain of seeing his friends and fellow Troopers get cut down in droves as if they were wheat.

Tracer fire from heavy machine guns and metal-storm rifles only added to the destruction. Still, through it all, the Troopers’ momentum carried them. They were bloodied and at half of their combat strength, but still they charged forwards, cutting into the PACs and regular Chosen.

***

Ortiz looked at the maps of the Troopers. They were pushing heavily into the Chosen’s area, and they were getting cut down, but they were getting the Carriers and the Combat Shuttles coordinates that the scouting patrols hadn’t been able to get.

They were moving through, capitalizing on Mark’s nuke. It was vicious, but nowhere as bad as it could have been. The Chosen were reeling from the attacks. The original lines were getting reinforced, and when the Chosen came again they would run into spray-ite walls and stationary Repulsor positions.

He saw as the Devil Dogs called in for a medical extraction. He winced looking at the numbers; they were being bled by his orders. He knew when he gave them that they would probably bleed themselves dry, just so that he could buy his lines some time and wreck the Chosen’s lines of supply.

Trading with the devil and hoping that the dice come up in our favor, Ortiz thought.

He wanted to be out there, on the receiving end of his own orders, not stuck behind the lines making sure that they were reinforced, turning the area into a bastion for the Troopers that had been left behind.

New Combat Shuttles came in, supporting those that were already above the Devil Dogs.

A missile landed among another one of the advancing Regiments. The nuke went off above the factories, ripping a crater down into the moon below the factories. Troopers seemed to disappear, black marks scrolling down his vision as his bunker shook angrily.

There were wounded and a few Sections still alive.

Ortiz watched as someone got control of them and turned them into an all around defense, and pooled their wounded together. Their Combat Shuttle support was thrown around and taking their time coming back to the area, as the heavy machine guns had taken control of the air for the time being.

“I want fire on these coordinates,” Ortiz said, directly to Lieutenant Celik on the Carrier Fearless.

“Sir,” Celik said. Moments later, rail cannon were brought to bear, their weapons thumping, and the machine gun emplacements disappeared as the factories they were on turned into spinning debris.

“Permission to move in support of Fox Regiment,” Haas asked, talking about the Regiment that was trying to pull themselves together after having a nuke go off in their midst.

Ortiz waited a few moments, knowing what he was consigning the Devil Dogs to.

“We’re not going to leave them behind,” Haas said, his voice soft as if he knew what he was asking for and telling Ortiz.

“Do it, I’ll get you any support I can,” Ortiz said.

“Yes, sir,” Haas said.

The Devil Dogs’ direction changed and they tilted towards Fox Regiment. They called their medical extraction for the Fox Regiment instead.

“Devil Dog is moving to support Fox. I want them to have every piece of fucking support we have on their position. Get me some medical evac shuttles! Get me an overlay of Tiger and Panther Regiments,” Ortiz said. He didn’t know why the captains were allowing their people to name their companies, but they seemed to like it. In war he was willing to let a few things slide; it was a lot easier than referring to them by their Alpha numerical code.

Chapter 40

Factory Complex Three

Blue Moon, Fernix System

10/3294

“We’re moving in to support Fox Regiment; I want everyone to be ready to dig in. Once we get there, we will evacuate all of the wounded via Combat Shuttle and push towards our final objectives,” Haas said.

Tyler felt himself green up on his HUD. He knew what Haas’ order really was. They were going to get all of the wounded onto the Combat Shuttles, spending their lives to save their brothers and sisters.

“Move it Troopers! I thought you knew how to use powered armor!” Tyler yelled at his Company, and they surged forward, moving for their new objective.

They ran and fired, and the wounded were dragged by magnetic cord. If someone fell, they were hauled up by their brothers and sisters. They were juggernauts hurtling through the factory complex of the Blue Moon.

Tyler felt an odd calm come over him as he ran. They might die, but they weren’t going to go easily.

“I want an all-around defense, use any and all cover you can find to get dug in. Techs, I want you ready with that spray-ite!” Haas yelled.

It didn’t take long for them to exit the factories and find themselves in the crater left by the nuke.

The factories had been flattened around, others had collapsed. There were three kilometers of cleared factories before the crater dug into the planet.

Mortars were raining hell down onto the Troopers. Rail cannon and CIWS from Carriers hit targets in the distance. Combat Shuttles flew over the opening, wildly, their various weapon systems firing on the surrounding factories.

Combat Shuttles moved around the Fox Regiment like flies, hitting anything that wasn’t a Trooper. A Combat Shuttle came out of the sky, its engines flaring madly, and it bounced on the cermite pad crashing through machines, its ramp opening to the Fox Regiment. Wounded were dragged and stuffed in the shuttle, there was little time to be careful as people were piled in. Once the Combat Shuttle was filled, it took off across the crater, tilting away from the Blue Moon and towards the nearest Carrier. Another Combat Shuttle came in to land, but its engines were hit and they had to pull away.

The Devil Dogs moved around the Fox Regiment, using breaching charges to make holes to hide in. Others used machinery or whatever was still standing. Tyler slid into a hole that had already been made.

Two more casualty evacuation shuttles landed, ammunition was tossed off and wounded tossed on. A tech hooked Tyler up with ammunition before rushing off to spray-ite a machine that was being turned into a defensive position.

Tracers ripped out of the direction the Devil Dogs had come from. Tyler fired back, but it wasn’t necessary as five Combat Shuttles in arrowhead formation tilted forward, their missile racks jet engines and smoke as their auto-cannon made solid tracer lines to the edge of the factories, turning their already torn facade into slagged metal.

It was an awesome and terrifying display of firepower.

Tyler checked his lines.

“Dashtund, Iliev, pull in a bit, we don’t have enough people to cover all of our frontage,” Tyler said. Che was dead, as well as Ali. So many others were dead or wounded that Tyler had voted to collapse his Company into two Platoons instead of three.

Already there were more Chosen coming out of another location around the crater, their tracers aimed at the Troopers’ lines.

Tyler wasn’t facing them, but watched as rail cannon rounds made five more craters, the fire dying down as the Troopers cut down the last of them.

They were holding for now, but Tyler had been fighting in the EMF for eleven and a half years. Nerva had taught him tactics, how to read a battle, and he could read this one. They didn’t have enough ammunition, enough power, or enough air.

“Let’s make these bastards understand who the fuck they’re dealing with!” Haas yelled.

The Troopers let out a wordless cry, a few yelling “No mercy!” as they watched their areas. More Combat Shuttles were taking wounded and rushing off as Chosen ran for them from every direction, then mortars started raining down. The Carriers were taking them out as fast as possible.

A Combat Shuttle was hit with a mortar, turning it into a fireball of falling wreckage over the dead ground between the Devil Dogs and the advancing Chosen. The Troopers held their fire, as many of the Chosen were too far away to hit.

The Chosen were new to fighting and were wasting their ammunition shooting at distances of a few kilometers.

“If you’ve got an AMR, use it,” Tyler yelled, letting his Repulsor hang and grabbing the rifle clipped to him. Just hours ago he had pulled the trigger on this very rifle and put all of these actions into motion.

He checked it over, the scope linked to his powered armor as he looked for a good target. He saw a Chosen throwing their arm forward, leading a group of PACs.

He fired the round, which pierced the PAC officer’s armor and exploded inside.

But Tyler was already looking for a new target, and he fired as he saw another that looked like an officer type. He fired again. Other AMRs along the lines were firing, and PACs dropped to the ground, their armor punctured, and the Chosen inside were turned to mush by the AMR’s round exploding.

Combat Shuttles rushed over, their guns blazing as they lit up the sky with missiles and weapons fire before disappearing so heavy machine guns couldn’t fill them with holes. A few were unlucky as they were hit with multiple heavy machine guns, exploding or going dead as the crew were killed and the shuttles plunged into the factories.

It wasn’t war, it was chaos with people fighting to survive in its midst.

Chapter 41

EMFC Fearless

Fernix Prime’s Orbit, Fernix System

10/3294

Captain Hall had seen the same events unfold as Ortiz. He could see what it meant for the remainder of Fox Regiment.

Celik and Yeltsin were talking to one another, moving the ship and bringing down fire on the priority targets that Guy called out. Rasalov was working to get the best sensor picture from the sensor sticks to the Troopers powered armor, the Combat Shuttles, and the Carriers themselves. There was a lot of data to sift through, but he and his assistants were able to find Celik and his gunners even more priority targets. Armories exploded beneath their guns, food storage areas disappeared, and Chosen positions were rolled up and destroyed by weapons fire.

The Blue Moon was burning, but Hall knew it wouldn’t be enough to save Fox Regiment.

He was about to turn off the feed because he didn’t want to see more people die, when he saw that the Devil Dogs were moving in to support them.

Yes, go, go you beautiful bastards, he thought, hope welling up inside him as the Devil Dogs’ Combat Shuttle moved in to support the Fox Regiment. The medical evacuation shuttles they’d called in for their own wounded moved to assist Fox Regiment and get their people out.

They settled into a defensive position around the Fox Regiment. Hall looked to his various screens, examining the eighty or so bases that the Troopers controlled over the six factory zones of the Blue Moon.

Only three of the bases had pushed their forces out to take advantage of the massive nuclear explosion.

Most were too far away for the explosions to give them any relief, and a few others were playing political games that Hall knew was going to cost more lives than it was going to save. Those commanders didn’t care as long as it wasn’t their lives and that they got to line their pockets with credits after the fact.

“Yeltsin, let’s see how good you are at flying this damned thing. Take us down there, I want us providing in-close support for the Devil Dogs and Fox Regiment. Guy, I want you to see if we have any Combat Shuttles that could get their wounded the hell out of there,” Hall said.

“Yes, sir!” Yeltsin said, almost welcoming the challenge.

Guy just raised a thumb as he walked into his implants.

There was little else that Hall could do as Fearless moved down towards the two Regiments’ position.

Well this has got to be one hell of a sight, Hall thought, hoping to put the fear of the EMF and firepower into the Chosen. If it gave the Regiments even minutes, then it was worth it.

“We’ve got incoming contacts,” Rasalov said, his voice dark and annoyed.

“On screen,” Hall said, and it only took him a few seconds to understand what he was seeing.

“Fuckers. Okay, flush Combat Shuttles and put all the close-in support weapon systems we have on fighter defense.”

Looks like I won’t be able to help them much at all, Hall thought, his jaw working. He needed to have a Carrier to command if he was going to be able to save anyone else.

Chapter 42

Factory Complex Three

Blue Moon, Fernix System

10/3294

A shadow passed overhead, blocking out the stars above. A Carrier’s side showed, its kilometer-long face firing CIWS and every kind of weapon at their disposal to hammer anything around the Devil Dogs and Fox Regiment. Combat Shuttles took off, new ones replacing them just seconds later.

Some heavy machine guns fired on the Carrier, and the Carrier seemed more than happy to return fire with their much heavier and faster guns.

Jerome could see that more Combat Shuttles were rushing out of the Carrier’s hangar blisters, aiding those on the ground, and hitting anything that was trying to hit the Carrier.

“Fuck,” Jerome said as he saw new contacts on his screens. He had hoped that the Harmony bastards had lost all of their fighter craft, but it seemed that they had been hiding for a chance to hit Carriers up close and personal.

Fearless looked to be giving them that opportunity.

CIWS lit up the sky, millions of rounds rushing out to hit the Harmony fighters that were sprouting out from hidden landing pads and coming in low across factories to obscure their sensor read.

Combat Shuttles fired missiles and the Carrier moved away, unable to give support as the Harmony and EMF forces clashed above the Blue Moon.

Jerome turned his sights to what was happening on the ground; there were still more wounded to go, but there were few Combat Shuttles able to lift them. The Troopers couldn’t move from their positions as the Chosen were now getting close enough to pose a real threat to the Troopers if they moved out into the open.

“Well we’re pinned royally and truly,” he said, tilting his Repulsor and putting a line of tracer into PACs that were getting too close for his liking.

“Haas is wounded, medics have him,” Mark said, assuming command. “Get those mines out across our frontage, we hold here, we get the wounded out then extract ourselves.”

He left out how badly Haas was injured. His suit showed him as a black unresponsive marker.

Jerome greened up as he saw Tyler, his Platoon officers and warrants doing the same. There was no time to pause, or to stop. If they did, then the PACs could pin them down and tear them apart.

The Troopers’ rate of fire climbed as the PACs got closer. The Troopers focused on them as the regular Chosen ran behind, using their distraction to close with the Troopers. Some of them were hauling heavy machine guns. The AMRs were taking them out as quickly as possible but these bastards knew how useful those guns were. They’d been trained to get that gun in position and operational no matter what.

Jerome had known for a long time that these Chosen were not like the ones on Masoul or Osdal, these were a professional military.

They might be green, but they had been trained for years, and now that training was unfortunately paying off as two Trooper forces’ worth of Chosen were moving to engage the Troopers up close. Nearly twenty thousand Chosen.

Another Combat Shuttle gunned its engines and pushed off, a new load of wounded stuffed into its cargo hold.

A mortar went off close to Jerome, right between two Troopers; they were ripped apart, and shrapnel dug into Jerome’s side. He grunted as pain flared up. His augments got to work to keep him alive and combat capable.

He fired burst after burst into the nearest clusters of Chosen.

The ground was constantly shaking with explosions from both sides but still they were fighting with everything they had.

Combat Shuttles dropped in, and the Fox Regiment piled in.

“Jerome. I want your Company out next,” Mark said.

Jerome greened up, not pausing his fire. He continued to fire, seeing his Platoon leaders running around and making sure their people knew what was going on.

“Jam!” Jerome said on the local chat, ducking into the crater he found himself in, and pulling on his charging handle to clear the busted round. He heaved on it and it pulled back, the round dropping into the spent cases at his feet. He looked up, and saw Sasaki suddenly jerked back and fell. Jerome didn’t need to see his HUD to know what had happened; some bolt action fuck had picked her off.

He pushed the memories of her from his mind, anger, sadness, and frustration filling him as he rose, yelling incoherently as he fired on the Chosen, cutting them down as he gritted his teeth. Trying to push the emotions away to deal with the situation instead of grieve over Sasaki

Chapter 43

Combat Shuttle Seven-Six-Nine

Blue Moon Fernix System

10/3294

“Shit,” Young said as the shuttle cleared the factories to show the battle that was raging off to one side with the Devil Dogs and Fox Regiment fighting off the Chosen that were surging forward.

Tracers ripped out of the Troopers’ position at the surrounding buildings. Chosen fired back wildly, and heavy machine guns nearby were targeting Combat Shuttles. Multiple guns had been cut down, but there were so many Chosen and their damned guns that they were replacing their guns and gunners faster than the EMF could take them out.

Mortars, artillery, rail guns, all of them left holes in both sides, as soldiers tried to claw victory.

“Yeah,” Yu said, his mouth dry as he picked out targets and unleashed his new racks. Missiles flew free from the under-wing launchers, pasting more explosions across the Chosen advance.

Fearless and a third of her Combat Shuttle compliment were fighting the two hundred fighters that were trying to bring the Carrier down. More than one had tried to ram the Carrier.

They knew that they would only get one chance, as they had limited missiles and rounds. Their take-off positions had been hammered by other Carriers stationed around Blue Moon.

Yu dove low, his cannon sowing lines through the Chosen, leaving wrecked PACs and tearing people apart. Auto-turrets added their own fire as he climbed and banked away, and he flipped the craft, the limited atmosphere letting him treat it like a shuttle instead of a plane.

“Have that ramp ready to drop,” Yu called out.

“Ready on my side,” Bobbie said.

“Incoming left side,” Young said, rounds hitting their armored sides as they came in low. Yu banked side to side to throw the shooters off and cut his speed.

He flared his flaps out, but the thin atmosphere did little as he fired thrusters and brought the craft down. They bounced before coming to land, more rounds hitting them as powered-armor-wearing Troopers ran aboard.

“Go!” Bobbie said, the ramp closing up.

Yu gunned the engines, coming out over the Chosen that were now reaching the Troopers’ positions. Their backwash melted PACs and regular Chosen armor into their wearers.

Young and Bobbie controlled the turrets as he dodged tracer lines and turned for Ortiz’s camp and came in, passing four other Combat Shuttles. The Troopers ran out as fast as they’d run on.

“Go!” Bobbie said as they took off again to rush right towards the Regiment that was still trying to hold out.

He could see the destruction from the power plant to his left, the secondary from the nuke missile on his right, all lit up with the lights of battle.

Nukes warred in the skies, and Yu caught the back blast from one, the Combat Shuttle rattling as he drove it as hard and fast as he could.

He pushed it past its regulated limits as he turned, flaring engines, dropping the forward inertia as Bobbie opened the rear hatch, and they dropped to the ground. Troopers took seconds to run over and pile into the cargo hold before Bobbie’s words sent them hurtling back towards the drop-off point.

Chapter 44

Factory Complex Three

Blue Moon, Fernix System

10/3294

Mark used his Repulsor like a bat, hitting a regular Chosen and sending them thirty feet, impaling them on a girder that was jutting out.

He slashed a PAC, firing his Repulsor one handed, and the rounds sank into the armor.

Mark had trained and understood the armor for nearly a year, and he had learned it out of a need to survive. It was why he was one of the few people that could use the sensors that looked in a full circle instead of just ahead of him.

He threw himself to the side, skirting across the ground, grunting at the pain from his previous injuries as he shot the PAC that buried a sword where he’d been.

The PAC dropped, but the Repulsor ran empty. Its ammo belt was broken.

“On and moving!” Jerome said, as the last person from his Company loaded on the Combat Shuttle.

The Combat Shuttle took off as two more came in, and there was just Tyler and Mark’s companies left, barely larger than a Platoon a piece.

Niemi had had one of the blades hammered through her helmet by a PAC, and Mark had taken control of her Platoon.

“Tyler!” Mark barked as he threw the Repulsor at a Chosen, caving their chest in as he rushed three PACs. They pulled out their blades, which were suited to stabbing instead of slashing. Mark grabbed a vibra-blade from a fallen Trooper.

The first choreographed their attack, going right for his chest, Mark blocked with the left blade, slicing the PACs side, opening armor and the Chosen inside. They dropped, holding their side as red mist colored the air.

The two others didn’t pause as they moved in. Mark moved sideways, his left blade coming across to block the blades, raking one of his attacker’s legs, and they stumbled, more red mist pushing out into the Blue Moon’s atmosphere.

Mark saw that Tyler’s Company and some of his own were onboard the shuttles and heading away, and other Combat Shuttles were waiting to land. They moved around the areas, their weapons putting tracers into the Chosen, who were firing back with their heavy machine guns or whatever they had at hand.

Time was running out.

“Yu, the next shuttle run will be the last,” Mark said, knowing what had to be done as he moved in towards the PACs. Their friends moved to join them, and a kick sent a Chosen flying with bone crushing force. Mark danced in his powered armor, cutting the uninjured PAC’s leg, making them tilt in pain as he raked his blade across their neck. He jumped forward into the PAC with the bleeding leg. They tried to stab Mark, but he shoved it away with his armored shoulder, driving his left blade through their skull.

A green light showed Yu had got his message.

Mark turned, ripping the blade free, and new PACs lunched at him, stabbing at his head.

Mark pushed away from the blade, reversing direction, and coming in close, slicing up on the PAC’s stomach. They dropped, hands going to their guts. A vicious elbow laid them out of the way, Mark fighting above them as he used the quick movements he’d learned on Earth and modified on the battlefields of Sacremon, Masoul, and Fernix.

He jumped over a swing, magnetic cord pulling him to a PAC, and his knee crashed into their helmet, ringing their head as they tumbled. Mark released the cord, slicing their neck as another PAC jumped at him to attack. He defended and sent out his magnetic cord again, pulling himself to the ground, crushing a Chosen.

Five quick attacks and four more Chosen lay dead around him.

“Mark, we need to go!” Tyler shouted. The rest of the Devil Dogs were moving back to the Combat Shuttles hovering above the battlefield, their cannon and turrets cutting down Chosen that were trying to take them and the Devil Dogs down.

Mark turned and jumped for Tyler; the rest of his Company had evacuated as he fought. Tyler fought with the same flowing blades and movements that Mark did.

Their attacks were vicious and fast, designed to take their opponent down quickly as possible.

Mark saw a space clear between PACs and Chosen as tracers ripped from a heavy machine gun towards Mark and Tyler. Mark dropped his blades, feeling his armor crack from a PAC’s hit.

He grabbed Tyler, eyeing the Combat Shuttle above, and his augments filled him with chemicals hormones and drugs. He might die, but Tyler had a future, he had a reason to live, and Mark would do anything to make sure he survived.

Mark threw a shocked Tyler at the Combat Shuttle’s open ramp, and he made to jump but a blade pierced through his leg and rounds hit his chest, the impacts making his head hurt from the concussive forces.

“Yu, get them out of here! Look after my Troopers!” Mark called, his head reeling even as he removed the limiters on his augments.

He felt the blood leaking out of his leg but he didn’t care any more, he was going to take as many of the bastards down as possible.

He moved; his head might hurt but his body knew how to fight. He had been molded by fighting, by losing, and fighting again until he came out on top. He hadn’t had an easy life, but he had learned one thing: he’d learned how to kill.

PACs, Chosen, regulars, they closed in as if sensing Mark’s end. He crushed three regulars and moved for the PACs that had thought him defeated.

They stabbed and moved in to drive their points home. Mark slapped and moved, taking the blades, using their movements and driving their own blades back against them as he battled into the fray. He reacted to everything within three hundred and sixty degrees.

There was no thought, there was just purpose, reaction, and action. He got a vibra-blade, dancing in the low gravity as he jumped tens of feet, and used walls and machinery to crash into regulars, and move through PAC attacks with blinding hand movements that confused the mind. It all allowed Mark to sink his own blade in for the kill.

He felt the blood loss making him woozy, but the augments made up for it as he laughed, it was a grim thing, almost silent in the thin atmosphere.

He had protected Tyler; he’d protected those of his Troopers that had survived. Too many of his friends and people had died over the years, and now he was finally at the end. He knew this was it.

He felt the armor crack as a round hit him, and he stumbled, coughing. He saw the blade fall from his hands as he looked at the Chosen before him.

“I’ll fucking kill you all,” Mark said, coughing as his eyes felt heavy. A second round hit him and he fell slowly in the low gravity. Tears ran down his face as he looked up at the sky. This was his end.

Maybe the pain will stop now, the memories, the people I lost. He coughed as he thought about just going to sleep. He would be free of the pain, the inner turmoil. He wouldn’t have to take sleep aids to make sure he didn’t have nightmares. He’d gotten stuck into the bottle before to try and escape the memories, only to have them come back stronger, worse than they had been, when he’d been sober.

He didn’t know how long he stayed like that. He saw the Chosen moving away quickly, and there was light and rumbling moments later. He was lifted up with the impact, and he saw others around him, both Troopers and Chosen. Among the dead were Zukic, Sasaki, Ali, Iliev, Niemi, Waz, Che, and too many people that Mark had worked with, talked to in the halls of the Carrier, had a beer with, and made plans with.

He coughed again and shut his eyes, a smile on his face.

At least I’ll have good Company where I’m going, he thought sluggishly. He turned off his implants that were telling him to seek out medical aid as his augments overtaxed themselves. There was no aid coming, and his augments were nearly spent. Only the ones that were meant to keep him combat alert had anything left.

Darkness took over as Mark Victor died.

Chapter 45

Combat Shuttle Seven-Six-Nine

Blue Moon, Fernix System

10/3294

“No!” Tyler cried as he crashed into the shuttle’s cargo hold. He tumbled into powered armor Troopers as the shuttle fired off. Tyler watched, waiting to see Mark appear on the ramp.

“What are you doing?” he demanded, getting up as the ramp started closing, the shuttle pushing away from the area.

Troopers held him back as he tried to claw his way to the ramp. It sealed as he connected to the shuttle’s sensors. He searched through them, hoping that Mark had got onto another shuttle, that he was safe. He looked to the ground, and there was a powered armor Trooper crashing through Chosen. He moved with quick precise strikes, getting in Chosen’s guards, planting his blade in them. He’d been hit in the leg and was using his other to make up for it.

Tyler didn’t need to see the blood stained and scarred Diablo written across his chest to know who it was.

He watched, his body shaking as tears fell down his face, watching as Mark fought like a man possessed. Mark’s blades floated, an extension of himself as he elbowed, struck, and turned his enemy to open them up for his thirty blade.

He looked at a circle of Chosen, then something hit his armor and he stumbled as if drunk. Still none of the Chosen tried to get within his reach. The vibra-blade hit the cermite pad as another round hit Mark.

Tyler yelled out, tears flowing even faster than before as Mark dropped to the ground. Rail cannon opened up on the area.

The Chosen forgot Mark to save their own skins as Fearless, now done with the fighters, piled rounds into the open area where the Chosen were milling around.

Tyler didn’t stop crying; he didn’t even move as the Combat Shuttle landed. Few of the Troopers made to leave; they’d lost friends that were closer than anyone they knew on Earth.

They hadn’t just lost one or two, they only had one or two remaining.

Tyler let the pain come over him, he knew that Mark was dead.

Chapter 46

Factory Complex Three

Blue Moon, Fernix System

10/3294

Ortiz slumped down into a seat as the casualty numbers started rolling in. He looked at the black indicators. All too many of his friends, people that he had shared a cigar with after Osdal, would not be leaving Fernix.

Many more were wounded, but only a few that were risky cases were being sent up to the Carriers.

Ortiz felt hollow. The Troopers had followed his orders; they had done more than he had hoped to achieve. Yet the cost…

The fucking cost never seems worth the results in the end, he thought, rubbing his grime-covered face with calloused hands. He had to live with the pain of his decisions now, even as his decisions had led to his friends being killed.

“How are the defenses looking?” he asked, sighing.

“They’re secured, the spray-ite is taking hold, Repulsor positions are set up. The techs are working on the secondary positions,” one of the aides said.

Ortiz looked at the floor, nodding numbly, going through the motions of command. “Good, how much ammunition do we have?”

“Not many of the new rounds, but we have the old ones for the emplacements. With their higher rate of fire, they should punch through the PACs faster. Intelligence thinks that Harmony don’t have too many PAC units to send our way. They expect that Harmony will start sending regular Chosen.”

“Have those that went beyond the defenses rotated to the Carriers for rest, get them as much time as we can,” Ortiz said.

The aide nodded, understanding. “I’ll see to it personally.”

“Good,” Ortiz said, his voice hollow as he felt all of his forty-eight years, thirty of them spent with the EMF.

***

Jerome pushed his feelings down as he got the Devil Dogs organized to be transported up to Fearless. Alexis was in surgery, Dooks was injured, Tal and Sasaki were gone. Of the original Triple-Twos there was only Tyler, Dominguez, Ko, Dashtund, Dooks, and Jerome left.

Sergeants were filling the spots of warrants, but they were a mess, having lost over half of their people.

He made sure everyone was on the shuttles and settled into the flight. He bent against his harness, pain moving through him, not only from the shrapnel he’d caught in the side.

Those were his Troopers that had died down there, that had given up their lives following his orders. His mind was filled with doubts, and possibilities.

He somehow hoped it was a joke, but he knew it wasn’t; he knew that his friends and Troopers that had followed him were gone. They’d died saving their fellows, yet Jerome couldn’t help but wish that they hadn’t needed to die for that.

The Combat Shuttle settled down on the Carrier and Jerome stepped off numbly. The Troopers followed. There was little joking or talking as they walked to the armories, stripping out of their perforated, scarred, and charred armor.

Jerome took a sharp breath as he stepped out, blood running down his side, shrapnel poking out.

A medic came over, getting to work as Jerome felt his pants. He pulled a familiar object out of his pocket. That tin of dip brought more pain to him than anything the medic could do as he laughed, his eyes wet with unshed tears.

He thought of Haas sneaking a chew, of how Mark constantly shared his dip. How Niemi had spit it right out when she’d put it in. They’d given Tal some once when they were good and drunk after Masoul, and he’d thrown up everywhere.

The medic guided him to medical and he put the tin away. He remembered his friends, people he had come to think of as family. Now all of them were gone, all of them were dead.

He didn’t feel human, he felt as if something had ripped out his organs from inside. Physical pain could be dealt with, emotional pain, the loss of brothers and sisters… that needed time.

Time we’re not likely to get in the middle of a war, so you better pull it together and officer on. Haas, Nerva, Mark, and Zukic didn’t groom you to be an officer for you to lose it when they’re gone. The Troopers need you, and you’re going to have to be there for them, now more than ever, Jerome thought, blinking away his tears as the medic led him into the medical bay’s ward. The usually quiet, sanitary area was filled with yelling, crying, shrieks, and all number of sounds of pain and suffering. There was blood over the floors and the medics. There were wounded everywhere with sealant on their wounds, others were having their limbs reprinted. More were getting bones set. Battered and broken bodies of all types took up the medical bay.

“Take the shirt off, and take a seat,” the medic said as they pulled tools off a cart and pointed to a bed where a Trooper was having an arm and a foot reprinted.

Jerome sat next to the Trooper’s good leg and the medic went to work, injecting things, pulling shrapnel out and sealing him up.

Jerome pulled up his implants, checking over the state of the Regiment. If there was even one of the Devil Dogs living, then they would make the Chosen pay ten-fold for their losses.

Chapter 47

HC Tempest

Oort Cloud, Housapel System

10/3294

Quinn looked at the latest report from Fernix. General Ando had fallen and the Troopers were pushing out an offensive that was hitting many strong points.

He checked the reports he had bought from Earth companies, telling him all about the Carriers moving out of the system.

Should work nicely, Quinn thought, opening a channel to Admiral Hawking. The man responded moments later.

“Sir,” Hawking said, sounding as if Quinn had just woken him from sleep.

“Admiral, I believe it is time that we were on our way. Time for part two of our plan,” Quinn said.

“Certainly, sir. I will rouse the captains and see that we are on our way as soon as possible,” Hawking said, energy filling his voice.

“Very well, admiral, keep me appraised of the situation,” Quinn closed the channel.

All of the pieces were in position, now he just had to see if he was able to wrestle control from Nivad. He knew the spymaster was not likely to give up his control easily.

Quinn’s face broke into a thin smile.

I know what I’m willing to do to get that power. To hold it. Nivad will be willing to do whatever it costs. I just had to make sure that he had nothing else to try and stop me. Now all of the Troopers are entrenched in fighting on Fernix, and there isn’t enough lift capacity on Housapel to move all of them. It means pulling them back towards Earth in time to save it from me, and my fleet has passed.

Quinn thought of his fleet sailing into Sol System. No one would dare defy their cannon and purpose built ships as Quinn laid claim to the Ministry of Intelligence seat and gave Hawking the seat to the EMF.

He would take control of the EMF, and once the dust settled the officers would care little who was in control as long as they were paid and they could play their games. Quinn’s fleet, his true fleet, was crewed by people that understood money. They weren’t Harmony fools. They were corporation fighters. Mercenaries.

They were Troopers, Housapel’s own brand.

Chapter 48

SLS Gladius

Demash System

10/3294

“They have him,” NIDenise said, in Nerva’s mind.

“Who?” Nerva thought, panic setting in as he looked away from the maps of Goulag.

“Mark, we do, they’re stabilizing him, he took severe wounds, but he will be fine,” NIDenise said.

“What happened?” Nerva thought.

“Tyler shot the commanding general of the Chosen forces. Mark blew up a reactor. Ortiz used the distraction to push out his units. Pushed back the attackers and allowed him to reinforce his defenses. Six Regiments moved out to hit Chosen forces and mark high priority targets that the scouts couldn’t get eyes on. One of the Regiments was nearly wiped out by a nuclear missile. Devil Dogs moved to support. Chosen piled in, a lot of them died and more of them were wounded. Mark was the last one standing, he meant to save Tyler with his last action. One of our operatives hit him with a nanite bullet, put him out and into stasis so that we could recover him. The EMF bombarded the area with artillery and the Chosen ran. We recovered a good many of the Troopers. Here is a full list. Mark is still in a nanite tank. The operatives put down those that looked like they were going to die, for extraction. They’re going to need another Carrier,” NIDenise said.

Nerva scanned through the names, he knew them, some of them for all of their military careers, and others had been marked by other Legion recruiters in the EMF.

Nerva looked through all of the lists, looking at who had died and those that had lived, or were wounded. His features hardened as he saw more names of those that he would never see again.

He went through files, reading up on those that he had seen a lifetime ago, remembering a smile, a laugh, a joke. How they’d helped him in the field, or had a quiet conversation with him. He might be an officer, but to many he was a confidant. People had confided in him; he knew some better than some knew themselves. Now they were gone.

He sat there for hours, looking back on a life that was now seeming distant and dream-like. The pain of losing those people was anything but distant.

Chapter 49

Factory Complex Three

Blue Moon, Fernix System

12/3294

Mark gasped for air as he pulled himself out of what felt like a bathtub.

He looked around, and he was in some kind of medical area. Instead of beds there were coffin-looking boxes with leads connected to them and what looked like mercury in them.

He looked down, seeing that he was in a vat of the same stuff and he pushed himself up, healed and naked.

“Shit,” Mark said, not quite believing it as he found the bullet hole where his shoulder joint had been, and there wasn’t a second hole on his skin.

He got out of the silver-mercury bath and, as he stood, not a single bit of the silver water stayed on him. There wasn’t even a stain left behind as he stood on the floor.

“Well, not dead, weird ass silver bath tech.” Mark shook his head. He didn’t have time to think on that. He needed to get armor, a weapon, and he needed to go to his Regiment. This wasn’t a Trooper medical bay, so it had to be a Harmony one. How they’d got this tech he didn’t know.

Maybe it’s a CEO medical bay. Though why the hell would they want to fix me up?

Mark pushed that to the back of his mind, and took in the room. Beside his bed was a Trooper uniform, so he pulled on the smart clothes, then looked around again and made for the nearest door.

It opened as he got close to it, so he checked both ways, waiting and listening for noise. He heard something coming from his right, so he went left, looking back to see if anyone came out behind him as he moved through the facility.

He kept moving forwards and to his right. He saw an airlock that looked like it went out to Blue Moon.

Well, don’t want to be breathing nothing, need a damn helmet, and some kind of armor and weapon. Mark tried the doors around the airlock finding a supply closet, one that was locked and then a large room.

Bingo, Mark thought as he stepped into the room. There was Chosen powered armor, Trooper powered armor, regular armor for both groups, and there were weapons of all kinds in boxes.

Mark moved to the Trooper powered armor, checking the two in the best condition. One powered up, the other didn’t. It was about four inches smaller than Mark would have liked, but it was powered armor. He strapped Repulsor ammunition boxes to the powered armor’s ammunition pack.

He pulled the Trooper armor on, and it was reassuring to have it against his skin again.

What I would do for a pair of friggin underwear.

“Mark Victor, this is Legionary Asaul, I do not wish you harm. We healed you in hopes that you might listen to our proposition,” someone said through the facility’s speakers.

“No can do, bud, got people counting on me and I’m not about to let them down,” Mark muttered to himself. His combat augments kicked in to get him fully functional, and he dropped to the floor, holding his head in agony.

He grunted through it and pushed himself into the powered armor, and with a message from his implants it closed around him. He checked the controls and cocked the Repulsor, and a round dropped out of the bottom.

“Fuck, this is uncomfortable,” he growled, his head still reeling from the headache.

Legionary Asaul was still going on about wanting to talk to Mark.

Mark moved to the corridor, there was nothing in it as he moved for the airlock. It cycled fine and he quickly found himself outside.

He was out in the factories; his map showed him as being in Factory Complex Three, but sixty kilometers from the Trooper base.

He looked at the facility. It wasn’t a facility, but a ship, about the size of four Combat Shuttles. He’d never seen anything like it. It looked like it was meant for war with its weapons. Purpose built-like the Harmony ships, but Mark knew that this was generations ahead.

“Well shit, maybe he wasn’t lying,” Mark said, turning and jogging away. He wasn’t going to stick around and find out. Out here he knew how things were, so he took off in the direction of his camp.

Chapter 50

SLS Gladius

Goulag, Demash System

12/3294

Nerva checked that his seat was good on the dropship. They would be hurtling through the planet’s atmosphere for the rudimentary camp that was building around the city Farei. The first Maraukian scouts had already made contact with the defenses and a horde was moving towards the city turned Legion camp.

There were eight cities, and all of them were closed up. The first dropships had already landed in them and their legionnaires were spreading out to take over the defenses. The centurions were reporting to the legates, who were passing word to Nerva.

The campaign to secure Goulag again did not look like it would be a pleasant one.

“So, Mark escaped.” NIDenise said.

Nerva sighed and closed his eyes, his armored hand rubbing his face. “Of course he did. Any damage?”

“He was being given a nanite mapper for his Neural Interfacing Artificial Intelligence. He’s now working his way back to the Troopers. Should look like he escaped something and that he somehow crawled home,” NIDenise said.

“How the hell is he going to do that in a single suit of powered armor? It’s going to take him months to get through those Chosen!”

“Yes, but he’s a resourceful man. You don’t pick them stupid and useless.”

“But still, getting through all of that?” Nerva let out a breath and shook his head.

“If anyone can do it, it’s Mark Victor. Now, get focused on your mission. I’ll keep you updated if the situation changes.”

“Gotcha, thanks.” Nerva closed his helmet and checked the M19 next to him. It was no E-12. This was a proper rail gun with rounds that hit so hard that they could rip through Trooper and Chosen armor like it was paper. For a Maraukian, they’d take a decent burst.

Fucking Maraukians, Nerva thought as the lights signaled that they would be leaving SLS Gladius shortly.

Chapter 51

EMFC Fearless

Fernix Prime’s Orbit, Fernix System

1/3295

“Hey, babe,” Tyler said as he entered the medical room. Alexis was waiting for him, a smile on her face, and Tyler reached out for her and they grasped hands, looking at the doctor.

She had been laid up for three months for surgeries, and waiting for specialists to look her over. Alexis hadn’t told him what it was about. He knew that they could regrow organs and fix her up. She was eating fine and she looked healthy, though there had been a shadow to her eyes in the last three months, a shadow that was more than just the loss of so many friends and those they thought of as family.

Alexis had been there for him, as they cried and talked together. They had used one another to prop the other up. The rest of the Devil Dogs’ leadership had been in to see her and the two times they’d got a break from the front lines they’d all met up in Alexis’ squad pod.

She’d been released for two months, but the medics seemed to be waiting for results on something.

“The results have come back, and we’ve checked them a few times,” the doctor started in a tone that made Tyler brace himself for the worst.

“When you were hit with shrapnel, it dug into your stomach ripping up your guts, your womb and ovaries. We were able to print you a new womb, but we cannot print new ovaries. You would need more specialized medical assessment to know for sure. But I think that even artificial insemination would not be possible,” the doctor said.

Alexis cried and covered her face, pulling her hand from Tyler’s.

Oh, no, you don’t take this pain on yourself! Tyler thought, turning and picking her out of the chair as if she was a baby, putting her on his lap and hugging her. She melted into him, crying on his shoulder.

“Will it lead to any health complications?” Tyler asked, his voice soft and caring as he held Alexis with one arm and rubbed her back with the other.

“No, there shouldn’t be any. I will let you have the room,” the doctor said, standing and moving for the door.

“Thanks,” Tyler said, cradling his wife as he held a hand over her lower stomach.

Tyler made soothing noises, wishing he could do something, anything to take away the pain Alexis was feeling. Sure, he had thought about kids once or twice, but he wasn’t going to have them while he was a Trooper. He didn’t know if they were even going to survive this. Mark hadn’t, and he had been the hardest man Tyler knew.

Tyler kissed Alexis’ forehead, rocking her slowly as he hugged her, as if trying to keep the rest of the universe at bay.

Chapter 52

Factory Complex Three

Blue Moon, Fernix System

2/3295

Jerome looked at Dashtund and Dominguez, they were moving quickly to his left. The Devil Dogs weren’t really a Regiment any more; there were a hundred and fifty-three of the original two hundred and forty-five. They could barely hold the line by themselves. The Fox Regiment had been collapsed into the Regiment, bringing them up to strength. Tyler, who had taken command, had let them keep their name, giving them their own Company.

The Foxes were thankful. That was their identity, and people had died with that name and symbol on their powered armor.

The Foxes and Dogs worked well together, but their real skills weren’t sitting in the lines and cutting down Chosen charges. Their skills were best spent letting them sneak into enemy territory, mark targets and pull back. They’d taken over Ortiz’ forces, scouting, recon, and targeting. They hadn’t gone out for a day or two now, and they spent up to a week scouting for good targets.

The Chosen were clearly rattled and Jerome had seen in-fighting more than once.

Their morale was low, even if they had numerical superiority. It looked like Tyler really had killed the leader of the Chosen. There was some talk of a replacement, but from the Chosen’s tone they didn’t much like them.

“Hold up, take a look at that,” Dashtund said, through sub-vocals, putting a marker on a building.

Jerome zoomed in, and at first he didn’t see anything, but he trusted Dashtund and flipped through different visions until he hit the heat scope. The buildings were warmer than those around them, and there was powered armor moving around in there.

“Moving for better vantage,” Dominguez said. They were all moving in their smart clothes and armor; powered armor was too bulky and easy to spot for this kind of work.

Dominguez moved as Dashtund and Jerome continued to monitor the building. It was some kind of facility, though Jerome didn’t understand it.

“Looks like a camp,” Dominguez said.

Jerome switched to the feed coming from Dominguez’ helmet. He could see into the storage facility easily now. It was a rest and re-arm camp and it looked to be active.

Jerome felt a twinge of pity for the Chosen that were in there, hoping that what he was about to do wouldn’t happen to him or his friends.

Jerome marked a bathroom, the sleeping quarters, and an armory that were tucked into a storage facility. They’d hidden it well, but the heat coming off the place was enough to make Dashtund point it out and Dominguez’ vantage allowed them to see into the building.

“Let’s get moving,” Jerome said through his sub-vocals. He wanted to be far away when those rounds came in.

Dominguez and Dashtund followed as they climbed over machinery and across catwalks. It was slow work as they scanned for Chosen, placing sensor sticks to add another region to the Troopers’ maps.

They paused above a group of PACs that were talking and moving. Jerome held his breath; they were just twenty feet away with only a catwalk between them. If the Chosen looked up, with their vision they would easily spot Jerome and the other two. Jerome didn’t risk moving, the noise might be enough to tip them off.

He saw movement, his eyes flickering to someone moving through pipes. They were wearing Trooper fatigues with an AMR on their back, and their armor and smart clothes had been painted like the factory machines to break up its outline.

The Trooper seemed to sense Jerome’s eyes, tilting his head at Jerome.

He leaped out of his pipe cover, his magnetic lead clamping onto a PAC. He descended, twin vibra-blades coming out of their sheaths. He stabbed into the first PAC’s neck and the other three turned in shock. The Trooper jumped, lancing another in the chest, turning his blade and rolling free, touching the ground and flipping over a blade and the Chosen behind it.

He turned in the air, his lead pulling him to the attacker, and his blade ripped through their neck as he jumped for the last PAC. They swiped at him, and he pushed off of the man’s weapon arm, then bounced off the wall as the PAC’s arm came across at the Trooper.

They held out a blade, the PAC cutting their arm on it as the second blade darted up into the rear of the PAC’s head.

The PAC began falling, dead, as the Trooper cut into the PA and ripped out an air canister. He jumped off his lead, pulling him out of the area.

“This is Company Sergeant Major Jerome to the Trooper that just killed five PACs. Come with us, we can get you to safety,” Jerome hissed on the Trooper communication channels.

“Ahhh, that trick isn’t working on me legionary, now get out of my helmet. I’ll find my own damned way home. You use my friend’s name again I’ll hunt you down myself.”

Jerome looked to Dashtund and Dominguez, his eyes going wide. They all knew that voice.

Jerome ran and jumped off of the catwalk, using his magnetic lead to pull himself in the direction the Trooper had gone.

“Mark, you fucking bastard, get your ass over here. It’s me, Jerome, I’ve got Dashtund and Dominguez with me.”

“Trying my patience here,” Mark replied.

“Well then, come out and try to fight me you big damned monkey,” Jerome said.

“Don’t feel like getting captured again, so nope.”

“Well get out of this area then, we’re calling down artillery,” Jerome said.

“Thanks for the heads up whoever you are, you’re really good at imitating my friend’s voice. Now kindly fuck off.” Mark shut the channel.

Jerome, Dashtund, and Dominguez looked around as best as they could, searching for the Trooper that had talked with Mark’s voice.

Jerome felt hope flare up in his chest as they saw two other groups of Chosen that had been cut down.

“Mark if this is you, we’ll leave supplies where Tyler took the shot,” Jerome said, hoping for a reply, but nothing came as the trio waited.

They were low on food, water and air, and they needed to get back to base camp.

“Let’s go,” Dashtund said, but no one moved. “Look, if that is Mark Victor, the damned stubborn bastard is not going to come back from the dead to get killed again. He can handle himself. He made it this far, so we leave him supplies at that observation point and then we get back to the line. Next time we come out we check on the position and see if the supplies are gone. If they are, then it’s Mark, if not, then it’s someone else.”

“When did you turn into the voice of reason?” Dominguez asked.

“I have my moments.”

“Let’s go,” Jerome said. They made their way to the room from where Tyler had shot the Chosen leader; it was less room and more torn up metal from Chosen shooting it up. They deposited rounds, extra batteries, food and other supplies. Jerome flicked his right arm, a blade coming to his wrist where the smart cloth had connected to make an air-tight seal.

He opened it getting a chill as air rushed out and he pulled out the blade that Mark and Tyler had given him. He sealed up his smart clothes again and put it on top of the pile of supplies.

“Not a word to the others, we don’t want them to get their hopes up only to have them come crashing down,” Jerome said.

Chapter 53

Factory Complex Three

Blue Moon, Fernix System

4/3295

Mark woke with a start, his AMR pointing at the person that was perched at the entrance to his hide, buried in the midst of a series of pipes above machinery.

“Well, aren’t you a sneaky fucker,” Mark said, using sub-vocals, noting that they had an E-12 but it was slung and they were wearing Trooper clothing.

“Do you know how hard it is to find you?” The man asked, his voice sounding clearer than one would with just using sub-vocals. Mark didn’t see his mouth moving.

Weird.

Mark shrugged, he didn’t know why he didn’t just blow the guy away. He knew that he could shoot him before he got that E-12 unlimbered, but they were talking to him instead of throwing a grenade into his hide. Plus, he was interested in how the wily bastard had found his hidey hole this time.

This was not the first time, but the last eleven times he had found out that they were creeping up on him, and had made his escape.

Whoever they were, they were determined.

“Mind if I take a seat? You can take the E-12 if you want,” Legionary Asaul said.

“Chuck it to your side, grab it by the barrel,” Mark said.

The man did so and took a seat.

“Nerva said that you were a bit paranoid, hell, he said you’d be a big problem to extract,” Asaul said, leaning back against the pipes as if the AMR pointed at him was of no concern.

“Talking about a dead man I think of as a father is not going to help you,” Mark growled, his hand tightening on his rifle.

“To tell you or not? That is the question,” Asaul studied Mark intently.

Mark’s features darkened visibly; he was not interested in this man’s games.

“No, not yet, maybe later, but for now we’ll keep that a secret, sorry. Before you run off or shoot me, let me tell you what my job is,” Asaul said. He was good at reading people. That was exactly what Mark had been thinking about.

“Go on,” Mark grunted.

“Think of me as a recruiter; I am sent here to gather up the best of the EMF. I represent a group that have certain issues, who need people with your kind of skill set,” Asaul said.

“Killing people,” Mark interjected.

“People would be putting it at an extreme,” Asaul said, his tone changing from cordial to angry, his jaw flexing.

“You Ministry of Intelligence?” Mark asked.

“Nope, we are not part of the EHC.”

“So some kind of vigilantes?”

“Something like that. Anyway, my bosses really want you to join us. You are one of the most promising recruits.”

“I’m not going to leave my friends and people behind,” Mark said harshly. He’d died once protecting his people, and he would gladly do it again. Though while he was alive he wasn’t going to leave them alone.

“All of the Triple-Twos are slated for recruitment offers. Nearly the entire force under Nerva’s control is slated for recruitment offers, actually. The man knows how to train Troopers,” Asaul said, with something like respect in his voice.

“So, let me get this right: you want to recruit me for something that deals with me killing things?” Mark asked.

“Pretty much.”

“Thanks, but no thanks. I already signed up for that once and that’s why I’m here, best and worst decision I made in my life. So, thank you, but, no thank you,” Mark made to stand.

“When you get bored of this and want to fight the real war, to fight as a soldier instead of a mercenary, let me know. I’ve seen it in you, Mark. You’re not a mercenary. You hated Sacremon, both for what you had to do and what it meant. When you think it’s the end, and you want a way out, let me know. Me or someone will be there. Though one thing,” Asaul said, standing, Mark’s weapon following him.

“What?”

“This conversation never happened and you never woke up in a nanite vat. You were captured by Harmony, you woke up and escaped, understood?” Asaul’s cordiality faded away, turning to the voice of a sergeant talking to a new private.

The tone grated on Mark’s nerves but he understood the meaning behind it. If these people were capable of running around the battlefield freely, and could track him, then they were not an enemy he wanted to have.

“Understood. I’ll keep your secret, Legionary Asaul.”

“Thank you, Mark Victor. I hope that one day we see one another again,” Asaul turned and jumped out of the piping’s opening.

Mark left Asaul’s E-12 and moved deeper into the pipes, running through a tube with hardened paste covering it.

He was less than three kilometers from the Troopers’ lines. It was time that he went home.

Hopefully they don’t accidentally shoot me, Mark thought as he moved. He was close as hell, but it would take time to get past the Chosen and the Troopers.

Mark had learned a good few things about the Chosen, and sneaking around, while he had been making his way back.

He wanted to just run into the Trooper camp, but he knew that would just get him killed, he needed to play this smart. He didn’t have identity codes and no one could tell who he really was by his armor or smart clothes, and he was covered in paint and dust to make himself look like the factories instead of a person.

Chapter 54

Factory Complex Three

Blue Moon, Fernix System

5/3295

Ortiz walked around the perimeter. He looked no different than any other Trooper resupplying the Troopers. He carried ammunition and supplies as the Chosen took pot shots, and he talked to the Troopers, letting them know he hadn’t forgotten about them.

He was making his way through the trenches when a wall shifted and a man appeared. He was large and heavyset, wearing Trooper armor and smart clothes.

“The fuck are you doing in there?” Ortiz growled, lowering his E-12. He hadn’t slept in a while and his emotions were on a knife edge.

“Waiting, boss, didn’t want to get shot.”

Ortiz’s thoughts of berating the man turned into wide-eyed surprise as he looked at him, his armor, the rags over him, the paint. He had Chosen air canisters hooked into his helmet, two vibra-blades and his AMR.

“Who the hell are you?” Ortiz’s anger returned as he raised the rifle.

If he’s playing a fucking joke on me… he promised darkly as the visor cleared and he saw a face he never thought he’d see again.

“Oh, you fucking bastard!” Ortiz hugged Mark, not caring what his two aides thought. “The fuck have you been?”

“Making my way back here,” Mark said as they came apart. “Would you know there’s a lot of Chosen in the way. Got some things that DM’s going to be interested in.”

“You jackass, alright, come with me, there’s some people you need to see,” Ortiz said.

“Devil Dogs, cafeteria, now,” he said, greens lighting up his HUD as he patted Mark on the back and started walking towards the cafeteria bunker.

“Yeah, how are they?” Mark’s voice was tight.

Ortiz had been dealing with the losses for months, but Mark didn’t know.

Ortiz sent him a list. Mark read it as he was guided by Ortiz to a bunker. They passed through air locks and people looked at Mark’s armor and camouflage questioningly.

Mark sank onto a table, and no one made to talk to him, Ortiz’ presence kept them at bay.

Ortiz looked away as silent tears fell down Mark’s face behind his visor. He didn’t even shake. Ortiz wanted to pat the man on the back and tell him it was okay. The way he cried silently, only someone looking at his face could tell that he was crying.

Ortiz felt that this was not the first time Mark had cried to himself silently. Mark was a hard man, someone that had looked death in the eye, and walked back to his Troopers. He had gone through hell multiple times, looking out for others by sacrificing himself. He had nearly died tens of times.

He was more of a symbol than a man, and new recruits were taught about his exploits. Ortiz knew he was one of the greatest men he had ever met, but he had never seen him cry.

All of that pain, that anguish tied up inside. Mark was like some kind of statue. Yet, in those few moments, Ortiz saw the truth. Mark was who he was because he cared for his people so much. He would drive them hard, but never as hard as himself, and when they died, it took a part of his soul.

He did what he did out of care for them. Inside he was broken, a man who had given so much only to have it ripped away.

He couldn’t stop it if he wanted to, he’s always looked out for Tyler and now he looks out for his Troopers. That’s why he’s such a good Trooper, he pushes himself so much so that he can save his Troopers. It’s his strength, but it also takes a painful toll if he loses anyone.

The Devil Dogs assembled, making a half-circle around Ortiz.

Ortiz tapped Mark’s shoulder.

He opened his visor, looking away as he rubbed his eyes and stood, a foot taller than Ortiz, pulling his helmet off to reveal a grimy, long-haired, bearded face.

“Sorry I took so long, weren’t any air taxis where I was.” Mark’s smile split his face, both sad and overjoyed as Tyler ran over and embraced him before Alexis and Jerome jumped in. Wet eyes and tight arms - Mark had come back from the dead.

“Crushing me here, you mutts!” Mark laughed, but it sounded wet to Ortiz’s ears as he moved away, watching as Mark hugged his friends and his family, and the Devil Dogs welcomed back one of their own.

Ortiz didn’t know what Mark had been through and, honestly, as long as Mark was safe, he couldn’t give a damn. Their Diablo was back.

“You certainly picked one hell of a group to mentor,” Ortiz muttered to himself, smiling sadly as he looked up at the ceiling of the bunker, as if finding Nerva in those rafters.

Ortiz’ mind tried to remind him that the war was still far from over on Fernix. Another part pushed it aside, drinking in the moment.

Chapter 55

EMFC Fearless

Fernix Prime’s Orbit, Fernix System

6/3295

As soon as they were away from the rest of the crew’s eyes, Moretti hugged Mark.

“Scared the fuck out of me,” Moretti said, letting him go and sighing.

Too many of his friends had died down on Blue Moon, and Moretti was just thankful that Mark had been spared. He regarded him as a close friend, one of a very small group.

“Well, I’m back, and I’m ready to make those Chosen bastards pay,” Mark said, his voice dark. He was just getting through all of the losses and the feelings were still raw.

“Ortiz said that it might be an idea for me to debrief you. So let’s go through it all, from you waking up to getting back to the camp,” Moretti said.

“You got a map, be easier to sketch out,” Mark said, pulling up the anonymous message he had got on his implants. A feat that should be impossible. Mark couldn’t send it anywhere, but he could read it.

“Okay, so I woke up in a Chosen medical facility, around here,” Mark said, pointing to an area of the map that correlated to an image in the message.

“I picked up some powered armor from there and escaped through here,” he made a line from the medical facility through factories to where he had come into contact in the powered armor. He’d had to ditch it as reinforcements were coming in and he didn’t have any ammunition and had little power left.

“Along the way I went in various directions; at first it was to get my bearings, and it turned into scouting out the Chosen positions. I needed food, water, and air. Easiest way was to take out some PACs and take it from them.” Mark pulled out a data cube from his helmet as locations filled out the map. Mark pointed to locations, explaining what they were or what he thought they were.

He pointed out locations he had found before he pulled the helmet off a dead Trooper.

Moretti pointed to various locations, asking different questions and extracting more information that Mark thought he remembered.

Food came and left as they worked through the information.

They moved from analyzing what Mark knew, to figuring out what they could do with the information. They could wipe out the positions, but the Chosen would just make more. If they could observe them, they could pick out high priority targets and take them out.

That way, they would continue to drain the Chosen of leadership. Having leaders too scared to leave their bunkers would lead to Troopers thinking that their leaders didn’t care about them.

Mark thought of himself as a bad man, but Moretti… he knew how to play on a person’s emotions and fears. Mark shivered at the ideas that Moretti came up with.

He liked and knew Moretti, but he could see how Ministry of Intelligence operatives could be one hell of a problem if they were working against him rather than for him.

“We’re going to need you and your teams out there ready to take out targets of opportunity,” Moretti said, looking at Mark. “You up for it?” His eyes seemed to reach inside of Mark.

Mark knew he couldn’t blow the man off; he could spot a lie a mile away.

“Yes, I can get the mission done, but do I want to be out there again? Not really. But I know it the best and my people have a better rate of survival if I’m the one going out there. Are you going to stop me? No.”

“Thought as much. Alright, well, we’d better go and see the Devil Dogs, it’s time you got your promotion.”

“What?” Mark asked.

“The Fox Regiment doesn’t have a captain and they need one, badly. The Fox Regiment is being reinforced, so are the Devil Dogs. Higher have seen the records of both Regiments, and they want to keep the trend. You and Tyler will have to figure out how you want to break down the Devil Dogs and Foxes into two Regiments,” Moretti smiled.

“I barely know how to be a lieutenant,” Mark complained.

“Well, it seems that you know it a hell of a lot better than most. The Troopers respect you. You’re a hero in their eyes, and they would follow you into battle over most generals.”

“I’m no hero.”

“To quote an old one, heroes are made when someone fucks up. In your case, no one fucked up, it’s just the way of things. So shut up and take the promotion,” Moretti said, a wave clearing the map.

“I guess there’s no option but to take it.”

“Course not, this comes right from Ortiz and he’s becoming a lieutenant colonel,” Moretti said.

“Poor bastard.”

Chapter 56

Tower

Earth, Sol System

8/3295

“What are the results of Mark Victor’s return?” Nivad asked. He’d seen the spike in viewership as people had cheered and called him a hero. It was what Nivad was aiming for after all.

He needed heroes to dull even the biggest critics.

“He was put up for more awards, and will be given those that he was supposed to receive posthumously. The people are eating it up. He’s the perfect Trooper; deals with his duties professionally and continues on with his work without pausing. We have people applying to the EMF at an increased rate.”

“What have we done on the EMF side of things?’’ Nivad asked, looking to the three heads of the EMF.

“We are going through new testing to make sure that we only get the finest fighting stock. With the previous recruits, we sent everyone and anyone. We are planning to release them with a small dispensation when the war is complete. We’ll tax it back from them over a few years when it all dies down,” the head of the EMF said.

“Good,” Nivad said. It was expensive to keep those Carriers and Troopers active. Instead, he could have the hulls ripped out of the ships and they could be used as freighters. “What about the Devil Dogs and Fox Regiments?”

“We have had them replenished with Troopers from other Regiments that were also harmed. It is our hope that they will turn into the new core of the Troopers. They have shown their effectiveness. They have a cost to benefit ratio of twice other Trooper groups,” Wallace said.

“Indeed, continue with the program,” Nivad said, waving to Wallace. “Colonists?”

“They are underway. We cannot begin to hazard a guess as to how long it will take Fernix to recover. Housapel will be quicker once the biological weapon is neutralized, and the new colonists can move into the system easily. Osdal’s start-up companies are flourishing. There are multiple smaller companies that are fighting against the larger corporations for domination. We have a number of them filing for various infractions to stymie the smaller companies’ growth,” Dalia said.

Good, keep them interested in fighting among themselves while we rebuild our power base. New companies will bring new blood, innovation, and make people’s lives better. Makes us look better to the people. Gives more reason for the war and makes rebellion look idiotic,” Nivad thought.

“I will leave you to deal with that; come to me with the larger contracts and issues,” Nivad said.

“Certainly. I am having a number of issues involving The Yard,” Dalia said.

Nivad saw the head of Masoul perk up at that.

“What would the infractions do?” Nivad asked, keeping an eye on the head while not looking at them directly. He knew that the head had been talking to the Masoul Partnership, to try and get their economy going again. Nivad approved; he needed Masoul to get a grip and continue to be a major trading hub, though he wasn’t going to say that to the head. Doing so would only make the other heads wonder what he knew about their private activities.

“They would limit their ability to make their new freighters, and restrict their shipping Company’s reach,” Dalia said, looking from her surface to Nivad, and her eyes didn’t even twitch in the direction of the Masoul head who was raising his hand.

“Go ahead,” Nivad said, pointing to the man.

“Thank you, sir. It is my understanding, from working the intelligence of Masoul, that there are few freighters that are capable of moving the amount of goods Masoul needs to move. Many of the ship builders around Earth are not producing anywhere near the number of freighters that are needed to transport Masoul’s goods. With Fernix’s own factories on the Blue Moon being torn apart as we speak, and no clear reports on the conditions of the shipyards that are orbiting Fernix Prime, we do not know when our shipping capabilities will once again approach meeting needs. Limiting The Yard, which is one of the few facilities that is actually supplying freighters might appease the transporting corporations, but everyone else needs them to continue to push out freighters as fast as possible. With their new proposed freighters, the largest ever built, Masoul’s transport issues to Earth and to the other colonies can be remedied faster.”

Nivad looked thoughtful, tapping his lips and nodding slightly in thought, then looked at Dalia.

“Push back the infractions for now. See if the Masoul Partnership would be interested in talking to shipbuilders to start getting them building more ships in order to return their system to its previous position.”

“Certainly, sir,” Dalia said.

“This war seems to be coming to an end, so we need to be more vigilant than ever. I want an updated report on every single colony and one on the social circles of Earth. I want to know how people are thinking and feeling. We need to be ready for peace. I want people working on calculating how to deal with the possible depression that is coming. See if we can mitigate some of it by offering the Troopers that are on the Carriers positions on the planets that they took over. Draw up profiles of the Troopers, and give them to the partnerships. The Troopers are there already; why waste the cost of shipping them back to Earth if we can leave them there? See if we can get the partnerships to cover the cost of their training and equipment. I want Company profiles, so let’s see who’s coming out on top and reports on the smaller start ups. There might be some new blood that can overturn some more obstinate companies.” Nivad looked around the room.

Going into war had been easy, but the fallout that could happen after the war if the ministry looked weak could turn Earth and Her Colonies into chaos.

He was just making the safety net that would make sure that, no matter what, they continued to function and he continued to be on top.

Chapter 57

Factory Complex Three

Blue Moon, Fernix System

9/3295

Alexis pulled off her helmet as she walked into the armory. She’d just spent nine days beyond the line watching the targets Mark had found, and looking for people who might be important. Moretti was running some kind of program to check on people and see who was who, and try to figure out the new Chosen chain of command.

There had been a few kill orders, and more than one target had caught a rail cannon’s attention.

Technically, she was the Foxes’ Regimental sergeant major under Mark. In reality, she led five others and went out across the line to gather information and wreak havoc.

The Chosen were getting better at shutting down their access, so the Troopers had got creative, dropping from Combat Shuttles, and digging under the cermite pads. Anything that could get them into enemy territory, they used.

The Chosen were hitting the lines now and then, trying to find weaknesses. They charged about once a week and sometimes they even made it through. Troopers that were waiting on the Carriers dropped down and pushed them back. Every Trooper now had powered armor but there might only be a fraction of them left from the original force.

Now they were all bloodied, and the idiots had been weeded out, either by the Chosen or by the Troopers. War was the great decider.

The first Carriers from Earth that had been supposed to go to Housapel were being turned towards Fernix. They would arrive in a few years.

For the Troopers it meant just staying alive and doing their duty. It was shitty and they were bored, but they had got into the rhythm of it.

Which was dangerous in its own way… if the Chosen do something different and we’re used to them doing it a certain way, we’re fucked, Alexis thought. She’d brought her concerns up the chain and Ortiz agreed, so when Troopers got time off from the front lines, they were being thrown into battles on their Carriers against one another.

They fought in all kinds of scenarios to keep their minds limber and ready for anything that the Chosen might throw at them.

More than being ready for anything, the Troopers needed rest. Not just a few days off, but a solid week or two.

They’d entered the system fifteen months ago, and they’d lost too many people and hadn’t had any real time to come to grips with it.

Unconsciously, her hand moved to her stomach. Even though she was alive, she felt violated. The Chosen had taken something from her without thought, without care of her feelings. It still messed with her thoughts. She hadn’t been intimate with Tyler in months.

Man’s probably got just a nub left after leaving him all to himself. She smiled and walked out of the armory.

There was a group of Foxes and Dogs at a table, talking, laughing, and eating together. They waved to her and she waved back. They’d become the scouts and forward shooters for the entire force they were based with.

There were also Sections of them off at other bases, working to train up others to do the same thing as them. It was taking time, and finding suitable candidates was hard. Mark was spearheading it.

Before, he had been a good fighter because of his speed and skill. Now, he was as stealthy as a damned ghost. He was a gentle giant with his Troopers, but a few other captains and higher ranks that had made comments about him or his Troopers had mysteriously stopped, usually after Mark disappeared from barracks for a night or a day. Of course the Regiments always swore that their captain was with them the whole time.

Alexis got in line for some food that had been brought down from a Carrier. It smelled amazing after nine days of ration mush and water.

She picked out food; one glance at her Fox patch and her plate quickly filled up.

She felt herself being picked up and someone tickling her armpits. She drove an elbow back, making them release her as she turned.

Tyler grabbed her fists and attempted something that felt like terrible old-style dancing.

“Tyler,” she said, trying to be serious even while looking at the great big grin on his face. She couldn’t keep the smile from growing on her own face.

“What? You don’t want to dance?” he asked, looking shocked.

Her lips moved trying to contain a laugh. He broke out into a grin again and pulled her to him, kissing her quickly.

“I swear, I leave for a few days and you’re blocking up the line; look at these fine Troopers trying to get food,” Tyler said, grabbing her tray and tutting as she glowered at him, pressing her mouth together to hide her amusement, as the people behind her laughed.

They could all use a laugh as Tyler led her out by the hand and towards the Dogs’ and Foxes’ table.

She pulled her hand free as they sat down and she saw the slight frown on his face, which made her feel bad.

He put the tray between them and two forks.

“Thought you were out for another four days,” she said.

“Got the coordinates faster than we thought, thought I’d surprise you,” Tyler smiled. She couldn’t stop smiling back as she ate from her tray that had somehow become their tray.

She felt odd, like she wanted him to be away for another few days. She knew that she was avoiding reality, but whenever he was close she felt like she wasn’t whole, and she was reminded that she couldn’t have kids anymore. She couldn’t have their kids.

She ate quickly, giving him small answers here and there as she tried to figure out a way to get some more time to herself. She needed time to work through this all; she didn’t want to face the reality right now.

The look on Tyler’s face made her feel even worse as she saw the pain there.

A shadow loomed over them both, and she looked up to see Mark. She was about to say hi when she saw his expression. Unconsciously, she moved away from him as he looked at them both with rare anger.

“Come,” he said to them walking away.

People moved out of his way as he walked through the interlocking bunkers until he reached a room with a desk, two chairs, and a bed.

“Sit,” he said, pointing to the chair. Alexis and Tyler sat and Mark sat behind the table, sighing as he rubbed the bridge of his nose.

“Mark, what’s this about?” Tyler asked.

“It’s about you two idiots,” Mark said looking at them. There was frustration but also a caring look in his eyes.

“What did we do?” Alexis asked.

“It’s more like what you’re not doing,” Mark said, his tone softening. “Tyler Victor, do you love this lady, Alexis Xin?”

“Of course,” Tyler said as if it wasn’t even a question. It made Alexis’ stomach fill with butterflies and then shrink back in fear.

“Up here, missy,” Mark said, and she looked up from the floor to Mark. “Do you, Alexis Xin, love this idiot Tyler Victor?”

“Yeah,” she said, knowing it was the truth.

“Then that should make things easier. You two dolts need to talk. You love one another and want the best for the other. I know that you got really hurt Alexis, and I’m not going to try and understand it. I don’t, but this idiot right here, he wants nothing more than to hold you tight, to love you as best as he can.” Mark looked at the two of them. “On your wedding day, I saw you say the words “until death do you part”. Well, I doubt that even death could make you two part.” Mark smiled, making Alexis blush.

“Cute,” Tyler said, smiling.

“Alexis you went through something bad, something terrible. You two are in this together. I might be the big brother, but he’s your husband. All I ask is that you two talk, please.”

“We will,” Alexis said.

“Good, then you have this room for the next nine days. It’s not like Ortiz is going to sleep any time soon, and you’re off the rotas. Don’t worry, me and the others have been talking, everything’s been taken care of. We just want to give you two space and time to talk about whatever you need to talk about,” Mark said, standing and coming around the table. He nodded silently, then walked out of the door and closed it behind him, leaving just the two of them.

For a time, they just sat there in awkward silence.

“I’m broken,” Alexis finally said, bringing her knees up to her chest like she used to when she was a small child hiding from the slum dwellers that might be interested in a younger girl.

Tyler didn’t say anything, waiting for her continue. He knew her well, and a few minutes later she spoke again.

“I’m not whole any more. I’m not the person I was before. I can’t be a wife; I can’t be a mother. I’m useless,” she said, burying her head in her lap, fearful to see agreement in Tyler’s eyes.

She heard him moving and then felt him leaning against her legs, kneeling on the floor.

“Don’t say you’re useless, never say that,” he said softly, his words touching her as tears fell down her cheeks.

He kissed her forehead and she reached out, wrapping her arms around him and crying. He picked her up as she cried, sobbed over the losses, the memories, the fears washing over her. The fear of losing him, the fear of not having a future. She wasn’t a woman, she was something else, something useless. Yet this man didn’t even seem to care. He took the changes and pushed them aside, he cared about her and nothing else.

He lay on the bed and pulled her to him, and she wrapped her arms tight around him as he rubbed her back. She felt his own tears on her forehead as he kissed her.

“I love you,” he whispered into her hair, getting fresh tears from her.

“I love you too,” she said, holding on tighter to Tyler, to her man, to her husband, to the man she couldn’t live without.

“No matter what, I will always love you,” he said softly, and she looked up at him, her strong Tyler who had tears in his eyes.

She hadn’t been the only one going through pain, she saw now. He’d been there with her, putting on a brave smile, scared for her.

“I’m so sorry,” she said kissing him, understanding how much her short answers and how pulling her hand away had hurt him.

He held her tighter. “Please don’t do it again,” he asked, pain in his voice.

“I’m broken Tyler, I’ll never be a mother, I can never give you kids.”

“But you can give me a life, you can be by my side, we can laugh, we can smile, we can cry. As long as we’re together I don’t care. You are my life.”

Alexis cried into his chest, relief spreading through her. She would never be the same, but at least now she knew she wouldn’t face the future alone. She had always known that Tyler loved her, but she’d been scared that he would turn her away.

You didn’t just pick him for his looks now, did you, girl? she chastised herself, proud to call a man as strong as him her husband. She kissed him, her body relaxing and molding against his.

For hours they talked, and not in the way that Alexis had tried to brush him off for the last couple of months. They talked about one another, about Mark coming back, their Regiments.

It was as if a dam had been broken. The tension was gone as Alexis felt a relief she hadn’t dare hope for.

When they fell asleep in one another’s arms hours later Alexis realized that she’d been more scared of his rejection than anything. She didn’t know what she would do if he’d denied her and that had made her wall herself off.

***

Mark watched as the two went for breakfast the next day, hand in hand. He smiled into his protein puree, sharing a look with Jerome as they nodded to one another.

“So, how’s the Regiment turning out?” Jerome asked, turning away from the subject that had been weighing on their minds for the last couple of weeks.

Mark had been given the Fox Regiment and the title of captain. He also had all kinds of colorful ribbons for his actions.

Alexis was his Regimental sergeant major, with Ko, Dooks, and a hard woman from the original Fox Regiment called Yule, as his lieutenants.

“Good, some rough edges, but good,” Mark said. “You?”

“Dashtund is still annoying Dominguez about being a lieutenant as well, but he’s good with his people. He’s still a big joker, but he makes sure that his people are in line. I’m a bit surprised,” Jerome said, he himself an RSM like Alexis, with Tyler as his captain.

“Nothing new there,” Mark said with a snort.

“Nope, that guy’s still one word away from putting his foot in his mouth.”

“I still see them wandering around talking to one another and flirting. They’ve been going out for years now, but they’ve never made a move to make it official,” Mark said.

“Well, in our line of work, it’s hard to make any real commitments, look at Tyler and Alexis,” Jerome said.

“Yeah, not many would get married in the EMF.”

“Damn straight, those two have more balls than us.”

Mark snorted and nodded, finishing off his paste and standing. “I’m getting too old for this shit,” Mark rolled his shoulders, feeling the scars stretch and move. Ever since his time in the silver water tank, his other aches and pains had faded away.

“Yeah, you’re practically ancient,” Jerome said, grinning at Mark’s withering look.

“Jackass.”

“Takes one to know one.”

“Was wondering how long it was going to take you to get over that whole ‘back from the dead’ thing,” Mark said. He was annoyed at the stares. He was already stared at for his height or his perpetually angry frown.

But he had seen the respect in those that followed him. Now, his story had been passed around and he was constantly seeing people talking to one another in whispers and looking at him in awe.

“Ahhh, it makes sense. Even death wouldn’t want your ugly ass messing up the place,” Jerome said with a grin, slapping Mark’s shoulder.

Even though Jerome was joking Mark saw the look in Jerome’s eyes. It was the simple thankfulness he was alive.

“Well, he also seems to have taken my dip tin, got a lip?” Mark asked.

“You die once and now you think you can just take my dip all the time,” Jerome muttered, even as he pulled out a tin from his pocket.

Mark caught him looking at the tin oddly before handing it over. Mark didn’t draw attention to it, he just packed a lip and passed it back to Jerome.

“So, where we going next?”

“DM wants us to blow up an oxygen refilling station,” Mark said. Moretti was calling the shots for the scouts over Blue Moon. There were eight full Regiments that had been formed out of the best performers, people that could think on their feet no matter their rank.

Moretti was running the show, but he’d made it clear that Mark and Tyler were his ‘on the ground commanders’.

Mark was proud of the scouting Regiments, they were effective and made the Chosen’s lives hell.

“How heavily defended?” Jerome asked, moving to business as he tucked his tin away.

“Very. They’ve got heavy guns, PACs roaming , and there’s a ton of Chosen. DM wants us to paint the place with targeting lasers, call in fire, and confirm the facility is destroyed. We wait around for a week or so, see if anyone checks the area. If they do, we hit them with fire again,” Mark said.

“Simple enough, tag it up, let the Carriers hammer it, watch, wait, repeat,” Jerome said as they entered the armories. Mark and Jerome nodded to people in greeting but no one interrupted them. It was clear on their faces that they were working.

“Wish it was always that way, you hearing the same things as me about rounds?” Mark asked, grabbing his helmet off the shelf.

“You need to clean that damn thing, smells like a rat died in it,” Jerome said, grabbing his own helmet, and looking at Mark’s in disgust.

“Thanks, tips,” Mark said blinking rapidly after a good sniff of his helmet. “Fuck, that will clear your sinuses out.” Mark grabbed an aerosol of cleaner and sprayed the helmet.

“You nasty as fuck, dude.” Jerome shook his head, pulling out an empty fluid container and spitting into it. “Yeah, I’ve been hearing the same thing. We’ve got too many people, too many fights and not enough ammo. They’ve stopped even trying to make more screams, only the AMRs are getting the new rounds, as eighty percent of the Repulsor rounds are normal, with a few of the newer ones thrown in. It’s making life on the line hell.”

“Heard that there was nearly a breach three days ago,” Mark said throwing the aerosol back on its shelf and pulling his helmet on.

“Yeah, was a real fucking mess. The Combat Shuttles are conserving their missiles for the really bad stuff, and camp nine got hit pretty bad. Hall sent more Carriers over to the asteroid fields to move ammunition. More are moving to gather up the Harmony warships and strip them for materials,” Jerome switched to a private channel. “Also heard that Hall might be up-armoring the Carriers, if he can get away with it.”

Mark grabbed his AMR, making sure that there were no rounds in it.

“Well, that would be something. How the hell is he getting permission?” Mark asked, slapping in a magazine. Jerome did the same.

“Well, it’s always better to ask for forgiveness than permission,” Jerome said, trying to sound like a wise old man.

Mark snorted and laughed. “Too true.” The two of them ran to the airlock that would take them out into a warren of tunnels across the camp.

Chapter 58

EMFC Fearless

Fernix Prime’s Orbit, Fernix System

12/3295

Moretti was looking at the latest reports from the scouting Regiments. He didn’t know why they hadn’t been used before. They allowed him to get vital information and make assessments on the fly. There were currently thirty small groups all over Blue Moon watching targets, taking high ranking personnel out or searching out new targets of opportunity.

It allowed Moretti to make a good guess of what was happening in the Chosen camps and they were weary; the Troopers had made sure to make them scared, every moment of every day. They hit them without warning from above, or cut down their leadership at all hours of the day.

Unfortunately, they’d been well trained and, while they hadn’t been veterans before, now all of them had been bloodied in one way or another for the last year and a half.

The Troopers might be weary, but they were fighting for their livelihoods. They wanted revenge on those that had killed their friends and families. Moretti could understand the anger, but he was tired of it. Harmony used people to further their own agenda. They pretended to be both a religious and governmental institution. It allowed them great control over their subjects, and inspired a fanaticism that led to people caring less about their lives and more about taking down as many Troopers as possible.

Moretti sat back and sighed at the four reports in front of him. “Well, shit.”

They detailed four different facilities across the Blue Moon. All of them were low scale and kept well away from the major camps. It had taken three scouting groups to find out what was in the area; the Chosen’s counter-scouts were good at their jobs, and had created a good screen around the facilities.

Now Moretti understood why.

They held fighters, but these had one major difference to those that had attacked the Carriers before: these had been rigged to be bombs.

Moretti had detailed scouts to follow groups moving between the facilities, to find out if there were any other groups.

None of the groups worked on more than one group of fighters to try and keep them compartmentalized, though they all gathered supplies from the same areas.

Moretti was mapping out more fighter outfitting areas, and that had led to the latest report in his group.

Fucking suicide vests. Moretti rubbed his face and let out an angry sigh.

The Chosen anti-scouting groups were thick around the facilities. They were spread all around to make locating the position of the various facilities a pain in the ass.

Moretti needed the scouts to get eyes on it to call in fire on target. If they missed, then the Chosen would gather up their supplies, get into their tunnels, and run away. Moretti needed to take them out in one swift go, which meant he needed the scouts to go out with Combat Shuttle support to get right up to the facilities, then gather as much information as possible, bug out and mark it for the Carriers. If they couldn’t get in, then at the very least Moretti had to make sure that the facilities stopped working.

There was little data or numbers he could draw on. He had to guess when he thought that they knew about of most of the facilities, and choose which ones the scouts would attack.

Then read the reports of those that died to carry out the mission. Moretti knew that he wouldn’t care if he hadn’t spent so much time around the Triple-Twos. They had taught him that he wasn’t just dealing with pawns, he was dealing with real people. Every loss of one of the Triple-Twos was like a hot knife in his chest.

He pushed the pain to the back of his mind, only letting it visit him when he went to sleep. He Troopered the hell on. None of the Triple-Twos that were still living had been given much time to think of the losses, they were constantly busy.

Moretti knew enough about people to know that they needed time to decompress, time to deal with things. But he also knew that he needed them where they were. They made up the leadership of two Regiments.

They might have lost friends but everyone had at this point. They might be Moretti’s friends, but in the grand scale of things, they were Troopers.

Unlike some of the new units that hadn’t been at Osdal, they’d actually suffered fewer casualties.

He glanced at the data sheets that showed the Return on Investment of Earth and Her Colonies for the taking of Fernix. He hated seeing it now, but he dared not remove it. He knew that someone was probably keeping an eye on him. Letting them think that his judgement was impaired was a quick way to get someone else doing his job. Someone else that couldn’t give a crap about the Troopers, and Moretti was simply not going to let that happen.

He stretched, cracking his back. He wasn’t a Trooper; he wasn’t good at shooting, but he was good with information and planning.

Chapter 59

Factory Complex Three

Blue Moon, Fernix System

12/3295

Alexis felt like a weight had lifted from her shoulders as she and Tyler had talked, hung out, and generally got themselves sorted out. A blush rose to her cheeks as she thought of the other ways they’d got reacquainted. She’d been scared at first but it seemed that it had been what she’d needed.

The Chosen might have maimed her, but it was clear that Tyler couldn’t give a damn in hell. They’d made love multiple times and her self-consciousness was thrown away by Tyler’s inability to not join her in the shower.

While the sex had returned her confidence, the talking had brought them close again.

It had been a slow three months, but she’d seen that, no matter what, Tyler still loved her and cared for her. That time had pushed away her fears.

She took a breath, a smile on her face as she cleared her mind. As much as she loved Tyler, she needed to focus on something very different.

She’d been in enemy lines for four days now. It had been slow going, the Chosen’s anti-scout, or hunter groups, were much better than their predecessors.

They also had the numbers to saturate areas.

Moretti had ordered the scouts out in force to find out where there were fighters and suicide vests being manufactured.

One of the scout parties had found armories on the edge of the hunter group’s area. It had gone off about twenty minutes ago and the scouts were picking off Chosen.

Alexis watched as a hunter group broke away from their position and headed for the commotion.

“Well, let’s go see what they’re hiding,” Alexis said to Calloway, her second on the mission.

He nodded slightly, edging out over the covered conveyor belt. Bent over almost double, he moved quickly and silently, watching the right as she followed and watched the left.

They moved swiftly and quietly. Their smart clothes and armor were painted and colored with various designs to break up their features and blend into the factories better.

Calloway came to a pause, stopping immediately was an easy way to draw someone’s eye.

Three carats appeared off to the side.

“Take them out,” Alexis said, marking one of the Chosen with her AMR’s laser. She saw Calloway’s laser rest on another. Alexis took a calming breath, remembering Tyler’s training.

“Three, two, one.”

Her count was followed by a quiet thunk of the silenced AMRs removing two red carats. Alexis changed targets, her rifle sounding like a nail-gun again, and the third target didn’t have time to react as they dropped down, a hole through their neck and out of their back.

“Moving,” Alexis said. Calloway was already scanning to see if the hunters’ deaths had been noticed. On her word he started advancing, both of them watching for more targets.

They saw a few other hunter groups, but none of them were as close or watching them as they inched forwards.

It took them two days to get to the facility. At first, Alexis had thought they were wrong as they crept between two Chosen hunter groups, moving just inches at a time. With nothing better to do, she’d watched the building that she’d seen a PAC nearby.

The PACs were roving; they’d learned to cover large areas to make it look like any one of a dozen buildings were housing something important. More than once they’d been guarding nothing but empty buildings, getting the Troopers to waste their Carrier’s ammunition on nothing.

Even if they didn’t mean for it to happen, the PACs moved further away from the building that they meant to protect.

Well, it seems that they know there’s bombs in there, Alexis thought, putting a waypoint on the building and sending a message to Calloway, who was off to her side behind her.

A green light appeared on her HUD. They could talk in their helmets but neither of them wanted to risk it this close to two hunter groups.

Alexis and Calloway rotated being asleep and awake; watching the building, which looked like it had once been offices, taking up a corner of a factory.

All of the windows had items covering them so that they couldn’t see in, but with heat imagery they could see that there was some kind of shielding or people working without atmosphere inside.

Moretti confirmed the target himself and ordered them out of the area. Now they’d found it, he’d have his people trace anyone and everyone moving from the facility to try and track other places.

Then Alexis, Calloway, or one of the other scouting parties would go out again to confirm the locations they found.

Now comes the hard part, getting the hell out of here with no one knowing that we were ever here, Alexis thought, thankful that they’d taken three weeks’ worth of ration mush with them. It was going to take probably twice as long getting out as it had getting in.

Slow and steady, til you lose your mind and you want to brain yourself with a damned spoon. She remembered Dashtund’s voice after he had finished a similar mission a few days before Alexis had gone out.

She’d just thought it was him being as crass as ever. Now, well, she agreed with him.

You’re just hoping Tyler’s off at the same time, she thought, a small smile crossing her face.

Chapter 60

Tower

Earth, Sol System

3/3296

Nivad looked up from his dinner, frowning at the waitress that appeared next to him. The other Company heads looked similarly annoyed at her appearance.

They had come to the restaurant for its ability to keep conversations secret and allowing deals to be carried out away from other companies’ spies.

They paid well for that privilege, and having someone interrupting their dinner was unheard of.

No one made to talk, as it was clear she was bringing the hand written note to Nivad.

Nivad picked it up and looked at the contents.

Ah, so that’s what they planned. We will have to recall the Troopers then. Nivad picked up his napkin and tapped it against his lips.

“I am deeply sorry for this, but it seems that some business has called me away. Might we reschedule? I will, of course, pay next time,” Nivad said with a disarming smile.

The Company heads smiled and agreed, knowing that it was anything but a request.

“Thank you, all. I hope that you have a good night.” He stood and tucked the note into his pocket. No one except Wallace knew the cipher, but Nivad was not going to leave notes around.

“Tower,” Nivad said simply to the head of his guard detail. All of them were wearing their custom powered armor that was many times better than that used by the Troopers and the PACs.

The security detail moved people out of the way by simply walking. No one wanted to be in the way of powered armor security guards with the ministry of intelligence symbol on their chests.

Nivad opened up his implants and checked through his messages and correspondence. Housapel looked to be suppressed, there was some movement in places outside of the main planet, though they were few in number and they would quickly die out as they had no supplies.

There were freighters heading towards Masoul and the Sphere. Shipments were picking up and, while Earth and Her Colonies might be seeing a few hard years in their future, it would be but a small divot, especially if Nivad could export some more slum dwellers.

It looks like we won’t be able to get rid of that many Troopers; hopefully they will have low enough numbers that they will not be such a financial burden after this next battle, Nivad thought. Winning was good, but having too many of the Troopers alive was a costly proposition, especially if they were so close to home.

Nivad thought of the Roman Empire and their troublesome Legions.

He made his way through the restaurant’s lobby, brushing through the main doors and into the parking garage where more security guards were waiting. The air cars were ready and their armed support was waiting outside. The sleek looking craft had twitchy auto-turrets that scanned and followed passing air cars.

The door to Nivad’s air car opened as Nivad walked right into it. It closed and the security guards ran for their vehicles. In moments they were in the sky and heading on one of the circuitous routes to the tower.

Nivad might be the most powerful man on Earth and in the EHC, but he was not an idiot. Going the same route every time to his office was an easy way to get shot out of the sky. It was also why he rotated security chiefs so often. They had so many different security ideas and routes that it varied his schedule nicely.

Nivad looked out over Mega City. It was no colony city, there were ancient houses and mansions that cost more than some partnerships, spread over kilometers of perfect grass.

Towers rose here and there, built for aesthetics instead of functionality. People here weren’t trying to grow a colony, they were trying to show off their wealth.

The citadel, looking like a polished sword of solid metal, shone along the edge of the city. It was seen as the lower class side of the city, as people from the slums wandered through the area to sign their life away and become the EMF’s cannon fodder.

The day had ended and robots were down there, cleaning up the metallic red dust that covered the majority of Earth.

Nivad looked between the towers and the criss-crossing lights of thousands of air vehicles moving from tower to tower, moving the rich and wealthy. Even chauffeurs here were a luxury, with self-driving cars. They served no function, but they could open doors and were paid more than colonists on a hostile planet.

At one time Nivad had wanted to overthrow the entire thing for fun, and he still thought about ways to do just that. Yet, as he matured and took in the world, he realized that it was much easier to just manipulate what was already there. He didn’t do much, a bit of leverage here, talking in the right ears there.

A threat, or piece of information someone wanted to keep buried, was useful. He might have been young, but he had built an empire by being savage and cold.

That’s what he had read in reports of people’s conversations on him. He didn’t care about others’ opinions.

Humans, ridiculous creatures constrained by emotion and image. A wry smile spread across his face out of practice rather than any real interest.

Though, to compete in their world, I too have become constrained by image and the stupidity of positioning.

He continued to look over Mega City and the slums that lay beyond it. He wasn’t prejudiced towards the people in the slums like many of the rich. They both had their uses.

Powerful people could cost him time and wealth to deal with. The people in the slums gave him tools to use easily; a few credits here, a promise there, and they would give their life for that stability.

The convoy entered one of the tower’s parking areas. They passed deeper inside, stopping before an elevator. A guard opened the door, others moving around Nivad as he walked to the elevator. It opened for them and they stepped on, heading down.

Dalia and Wallace were waiting for him, their faces grim. Nivad didn’t say anything as he moved for his offices. The security detail moved around Wallace and Dalia, opening and checking the room with scanners before leaving them in peace.

Nivad pulled out a sound canceler, and turned to Wallace and Dalia. “Go.”

“Those signals that we were reading in Housapel, they’re ships. Don’t know how they did it, but those Harmony bastards have another fleet and it’s headed right towards Earth,” Wallace said.

Nivad tapped his lip in thought, looking at the view screen that showed Mega City’s skyline as if his office was a few hundred floors up.

“I take full responsibility. I should have had more techs working on it and trying to figure it out,” Wallace said, bowing his head in defeat.

“While that might be, no one else caught it, so we will just have to deal with it,” Nivad said, waving Wallace’s apology away. Nivad knew that Wallace would drive himself harder if Nivad went easy on him. He would punish himself and do his best possible.

“Yes, sir. Thank you, sir,” Wallace said, sounding relieved but still angry with himself.

Play the man, not the situation, Nivad thought, remembering some sage advice he’d been given long ago.

“How fast are they moving?” Nivad asked taking a seat in his chair.

“They are travelling at point-three-five the speed of light,” Dalia said.

Nivad’s head churned in thought. “How long will it take them to reach Sol?”

“Fifty-two years,” Wallace said.

“It will take the Troopers at Fernix fifty-one years to reach Sol at full speed,” Nivad said, more to himself than anyone else.

Nivad caught Dalia’s look.

“You have another thought?” Nivad asked.

“It’s my understanding that if we were to take four Carriers from Fernix, then the EMF would not be able to keep pushing the Chosen,” she said.

“They won’t,” Nivad confirmed.

He saw the question forming before she could put words to it.

Oh, what it must be like in those minds? Nivad thought.

“We have all of the EMF pull off Fernix, and they shoot anything that tries to leave the planet. Once the Housapel forces link up with them, we have the Housapel forces take the brunt of the attack. They are unbloodied and not as valuable as the forces in Fernix. We spend them up and take back the planet. It will take more resources, but we should reclaim the cost in killed Troopers,” Nivad said.

“Why not simply train up more Carriers to defend Earth?” Dalia asked.

She had proved to be a good sounding board many times, as she was the only person that played devil’s advocate to his plans. It was a useful exercise, Nivad had found, even when he knew his plan would work and had figured it out months ago. She hadn’t, and was trying to catch up.

Yelling at her would only reduce her effectiveness as a sounding board.

“They would turn into the Chosen that were seen on Masoul and Osdal. They would have power, the kind that they have never had before. We don’t have any proper trainers left, we sent off the veterans with the Housapel Carriers. The forces we have here have been in limbo for more than a hundred years. We will need to train them up before the battle as well. If we take Troopers from Fernix, we are getting people that are fresh from fighting Chosen forces. They have been fighting them for nearly two years, at least; others have been fighting them since Masoul. They are more expensive, but they are also the most formidable group we have. They will make up our central units and they will train the other units to fight around them.” Nivad looked at them with a serene smile on his face. “After all, who wouldn’t want to fight alongside the heroes of Masoul, Osdal, and Fernix?”

“You want to have the Victor brothers and the people of the Triple-Twos back here?” Dalia sounded shocked.

“Why shouldn’t I? They are the best at what they do.”

“If they choose to, they might be able to raise the rabble around them,” Wallace said. Even his politically blind mind saw the implications. They had been turned into heroes by the Ministry of Intelligence. What would they do with that title if they found the war over, their feet on Earth and an E-12 in their hands?

What indeed? Nivad thought, interested by the subject. It was half of the reason he was doing it.

“We will just have to have a talk with them when they arrive,” Nivad said with a smile, ending the discussion.

“I will pull together a list of the best Trooper groups on Fernix. I will cut orders for Captain Hall to have his forces leave as soon as possible,” Dalia said, looking to Nivad for any other orders.

“Have a full resupply awaiting the Troopers when they get here; that new ammunition, screamers, Combat Shuttles. This fight is coming to our front door, and we don’t have time to skimp. Harmony will land somewhere, and no matter where it is the Troopers must destroy them,” Nivad said.

Harmony, and whoever was behind it, was making their final play and challenging Nivad directly. He hadn’t been truly challenged in a few hundred years.

The future will be interesting indeed, he thought.

Chapter 61

Factory Complex Three

Blue Moon, Fernix System

2/3296

“We’re what?” Ko asked, looking at Ortiz as if he had grown a third head.

Jerome understood the feeling as he sighed, sitting against the wall, rubbing his face. Guess I need to shave some time.

“Lieuten...” a staffer started, but Ortiz’ dark eyes silenced the man.

Ortiz nodded before turning back towards the group of officers around the table, they were all grimy and tired. They’d been deep in preparations for their counterattack on the facilities that were making bomb vests and fighters.

“We’re going back to Earth, Ko. Now listen up and let me finish,” Ortiz said.

“Yes, sir,” Ko said, nodding. The man was tired; he’d just come from a three-week stint outside the wire.

“Looks like there’s a fleet hiding out somewhere. The ministry has credible intelligence that the fleet is going towards Earth. Our orders are to pull back from the surface of the Blue Moon, leaving a Carrier force behind to keep Harmony forces isolated here and harassing the almighty shit out of them. Four or so Carriers will be leaving the system for Earth. We have two months to execute this plan and be on our way. Captain Hall and I have talked, and he is going to up-armor and weaponize the Carriers’ untouched sides as much as possible, taking as much of the hulks with us and doing the upgrades as we head for Earth,” Ortiz said.

“How long will we get to train?” Mark asked as Ortiz paused, sounding tired and as if he was just going through the motions.

“A year. Anyone that has the skills for helping out the engineers and such slap armor onto our hull will also be getting woken up through our little cruise. Once we get to Earth, we will have a year or less to prepare for the Harmony forces. We do not know what kind of ships, or the numbers they will have with them. We will need to create a defensive plan for Sol. All of it will be run by the Ministry of Intelligence,” Ortiz said.

Well awesome, Jerome thought. He liked Moretti, but he also knew that Moretti was atypical of the people working for the ministry.

Being in Sol, Jerome had no doubt that the ministry would be all over the place. Hopefully they’d fuck off enough to let the Troopers do their damned jobs.

“What about Fernix?” Dooks asked, his deep rolling voice gaining nods as they looked at Ortiz.

“Well that’s what we’ve got to figure out, isn’t it,” Ortiz looked around the room as backs straightened. “Now get that go-juice pumping, I need your brains and I need them now. Some smart arsed fucker thought they liked the sound of my name, so I’m coordinating what is sure to be the cluster-fuck of the century: getting off this shit hole of a rock.” He moved the chew around in his lip and spat into a bottle.

His words had an effect and Jerome accessed his implants, activating his augments to clear his fatigue and get his brain functioning.

“Let’s try and keep it simple and fast. We’ve got a lot of people to move, and not much time, or lift capability. We also have at least a few hundred fighters and suicidal Harmony fanatics all over the place.” A projector hummed on the table and a hologram of Blue Moon rotated above it.

“Sounds like my kind of party,” Dashtund said.

“If you said your kind of party was a party of bohemian clowns drinking that piss you call liquor I wouldn’t be surprised,” Ortiz said.

“Aww, thanks, major,” Dashtund said, trying to sound touched as he grinned and others snorted with amusement. It was a small joke, but it cut the tension in the air and focused the group.

“Now, here’s what I’m thinking,” Ortiz said, locations appearing on Blue Moon’s map.

Chapter 62

The Yard

Sol System

2/3296

Jane Costa looked up from her work. She was working on the latest of the four Madeline-classed freighters that were currently being built in the Elmer Yard, named after her great-grandfather who had always used his last name.

The freighters were enough to draw anyone’s eyes; they were three kilometers long two kilometers wide. The Triumphant-classed freighter, that was just a central spine mount which would be covered in containers, would be twice the size.

Some of the other companies were now starting to make larger freighters and, while they had the money for it, they hadn’t built up the infrastructure and plans.

They were old companies and any large changes seemed to take years. The Yard was used to quick and fast changes, they were still relatively young, and they had not had an easy time. They refused to get into political games and instead, worked as hard as possible to put their work where their mouth was.

Droz, her working partner, looked over as she stopped work. “Something up, Jane?”

“Need to get back to the office,” Jane said, a chill running down her spine at the message she’d received.

“Okay,” Droz said, stowing his gear.

Jane sent a message to her son Damien to meet her at the office, and used her pressurized air jets to take her back to one of the working hubs where materials, safety equipment, and tools were located. She groaned with the return of gravity, the aches and pains of hard work pulling at her joints and bones.

“Sorry about this, Droz. Seems pretty important, have to take it.” She and Droz had been friends for most of their lives. He’d got her working back out on the crews after Elwin, her second husband, had been killed in an accident.

“No worries, Janey,” Droz said with a placating smile.

She smiled back and divested herself of tools as Droz went off to the break room.

A shuttle arrived shortly after and whisked her off to the head office, where Damien was waiting for her with a concerned look on his face.

“Mum, is there something wrong?” he asked, his eyes drawn into a frown.

“I’ll explain in the office,” Jane said, feeling all of her years as she smiled and greeted people, making idle chit-chat.

Once inside her office with the door closed, she took her seat behind her desk, propping her feet up on a convenient area heater.

Damien took a seat opposite, his look questioning.

“As you know, us Costas don’t own The Yard,” Jane started.

“The Westerly Threes do,” Damien said.

“In a way. The people that own The Yard came from the Westerly Three Complex. At that time, they didn’t even control their own complex.”

“They own the greenhouses and even protect the wealth in the tower cities on Earth,” Damien said.

Jane gave Damien a can I finish my story? look.

“Sorry,” he said, blushing a bit and smiling.

“There were two brothers, Mark and Tyler Victor,” Jane said, seeing Damien’s eyes widen. Everyone knew of the Victor brothers and their exploits as Troopers.

“They had a friend, now turned brother, Jerome Victor. Mark and Jerome gave Elmer Costa, your great-great-grandfather, the money to start The Yard, and they built the community of greenhouses, tying it - and us - to the Westerly Three Complex gang,” Jane explained.

“They’ve been gone for hundreds of years though.”

“Yes, they set up a system that would allow us to operate even as they were travelling between systems or fighting. For the universe it has been decades, for them, they’re only about ten years older than you,” Jane said.

“So they started the yards; what does this have to do with anything?”

“They own The Yard, the greenhouses of Earth, the Westerly Three Complex gang,” Jane corrected.

“And you want to change that?” Damien asked, confused.

“No.” Jane’s face turned darker as she looked into Damien’s eyes. “The Victors kept faith in us, they gave our family a future, and if not for them, you would have been born and lived in the slums. The Yard would never have existed. We will never betray them. What do you think our own people who came from the ranks of the Troopers, or have people that were Troopers in their ancestry would do if we betrayed them? What do you think the Victor brothers would do if we betrayed them?”

“Nothing good,” Damien said, looking into Jane’s eyes.

“Nothing good,” Jane repeated, nodding, her eyes becoming distant.

Though nothing good seems to be the only news I get from these brothers, she thought, looking at the view screen of her office. The original yard had grown in size, but it still made small inter-system freighters and shuttles. Offices had built up around her own office as The Yard had grown during her years of management.

“Mom?”

She returned to the office and the message she had received. She reached into her desk and pulled out a cigarette, and offered one to Damien. He shook his head as Jane lit the cigarette and took a deep pull.

She let out the smoke in a slow breath. “The brothers are coming home.”

“Why?” Damien said, leaning forward, anxious.

“To destroy the Harmony fleet that’s coming,” Jane took another draw on her cigarette, watching as Damien’s eyes widened and he sat back in his seat.

They had both seen snippets of the Harmony War. It was brutal and terrible, but it had been in some other system, on some other planet.

“We need to prepare for whatever happens,” Jane said, looking at Damien. “You need to be ready to take over if needed. We have fifty years to prepare.”

“We’ll be ready,” Damien assured her.

She simply nodded, smoking her cigarette.

Chapter 63

Alezio City

Goulag, Demash System

3/3296

“Hold the line!” Nerva yelled, pulling out his old magazine and slapping in a new one.

He had moved up with two full contubernium’s of legionnaires to support the beleaguered century. The Maraukians and their vibra-blades were opening up Sections of the Troopers’ defenses.

Techs were rushing around with their heavy powered armor, toting machine guns to replace those that had been destroyed by the Maraukian horde outside the city.

Fucking apes, Nerva thought, firing his M19 through the murder hole in front of him. Maraukians wailed and screamed, the noises penetrating even his helmet.

Their fellows cared little for their screams, throwing them out of the way so that they might close with The Legion’s camp walls, and cut their way inside.

Acceleration tubes were sending round after round into the Maraukian horde, but they numbered in the millions. The battle had been going on for months now, with Maraukians adding themselves to the battle as fast as possible.

“King sighted,” NIDenise said, highlighting the Maraukian leader. You could tell the higher ranked Maraukians by the extra implants sprouting through their dirty-grey hair and the weapons that were grafted into their backs and arms.

Usually the Maraukians would run on their four limbs, allowing the weapons on their backs to fire. Now, they were too close to use their back-mounted weapons, so they stood on their rear four limbs, using their forward two to wield vibra-blades as big as a human.

Each were sixteen feet long from head to rear, eleven feet tall when they stood up. Though there were always exceptions to that rule, and as Nerva had been fighting the Maraukians they had only gotten bigger, stronger, and faster.

His rounds ripped into Maraukians, but even as he tore chunks off the creatures they survived. As far as the doctors and geneticists could tell, the Maraukians were near perfect weapons. They had been raised with high-density bones concentrated over their vital organs, and used ultrasound, smells, heat detection, and sight to find their prey. They could eat nearly anything organic and their immune system defeated any poisons humanity had come up with.

Nerva watched as legionnaires’ fire concentrated on the king that was running through the pack. They took a few hits, firing back, and killing some of their own, but taking out four more turrets before they crashed to the ground, vibrant blue blood pooling around them.

“Here they come, legionnaires!” Centurion Pullo cried.

Nerva watched as the Maraukian horde went ape-shit. The higher-ups were revered like kings, and from them they were given sentience and the ability to fight.

They charged, battering against the defenses. The legionnaires only stopped to reload, just inches from the Maraukians that were trying to cut and claw their way inside. The weapons on their backs were useless.

Turrets whined and rail-guns fired. legionnaires screamed, covered in blue Maraukian blood from being so close to the enemy.

Nerva ran out of rounds, and pulled his sword. He stabbed through his murder hole, and the mono-molecular sword sliced through the Maraukian on the other side. Nerva fell into a rhythm that had been beaten into him by his very first file corporal.

His blade ran with blood as he stabbed and twisted, a new wound opening up in whoever was too close to the murder hole.

It seemed to last forever, yet be over in seconds. Another Maraukian leader, a duke by the looks of it, took control of the horde, and other leaders came in, asserting their control and pulling the Maraukians into ordered lines. This turned them from vicious beasts into ordered combatants.

Accel tubes were called in on the dukes and their lords’ positions. The fertile fields of Goulag were turned to glass in the wake of The Legion’s artillery.

Techs continued to rush around, pulling and replacing turrets that were part of the defensive wall. Others worked with armorite forges to patch up weakness in the outer wall.

“Nerva, we need you back at command,” Legate Harold said, his voice firm.

“Coming,” Nerva said, sliding his blade home and checking his M19. An ammunition bot came close, offering magazines, and picking up rifles, magazines, and other useful items that had been dropped.

There were red patches on the ground and medicos were tending to wounded legionnaires as automated stretchers waited to take them to the medical bays and their nanite wards.

“Was wondering if you got soft up in the command center,” Pullo said, his face unreadable through his helmet, but Nerva could hear the former EMF sergeant’s smile.

“Ahhh, plenty of coffee, donuts, and comfy chairs here,” Nerva replied.

Pullo laughed. “Ah, I don’t think the higher-ups would let us have those luxuries. Ain’t no corporatocracy round here.”

“Damn straight. Look after this part of the wall and I’ll see about getting some warm food up here,” Nerva said, slapping Pullo’s red shoulder pauldrons which denoted him as centurion.

“Thank you, sir,” Pullo said, meaning it. “Now, I have some more idiots to get sorted out.”

Nerva looked at his own blue pauldrons which had a gold stripe on them, marking him as the prima legate of the forces on Goulag.

The armored hatch that led from the Section of wall opened as he came close. He moved through other hatches, past weapon emplacements that were ready in case the Maraukians made it through the exterior walls.

He followed NIDenise’s route, while checking on the reports of the other walls. Two other sectors had been hit enough to warrant repairs, but none of them had needed reinforcements like Pullo’s people did.

Damn, king was testing our strengths and weaknesses again, Nerva thought.

“Reports from other cities,” Nerva asked.

“All are secure and engaged with Maraukians, we are tracking several hordes that have finally crossed natural barriers,” NIDenise replied, showing him maps of the Maraukian horde’s advance.

Once the Maraukians landed they didn’t use their ships to move around. They spread out across a planet at rapid speed, and once they made contact with a civilization, they attacked it until they won or were destroyed. The other hordes would group together once they had searched the rest of the planet, piling their own combat strength on top of what was already fighting the legionnaires.

Nerva had already put the auxiliaries that were born, raised, and trained on Goulag on the rotating schedule to man the walls and fighting corridors against the Maraukians.

They weren’t as well equipped or trained as the legionnaires, but they could still point an M19 and shoot. Nerva’s people were tired and needed rest before the new hordes engaged them.

He hadn’t yet got a good feel for the auxiliaries, and more than once auxiliaries had broken and run, opening up a base for a Maraukian advance. Legionnaires had done it as well, but it was a rare occurrence. They had fought from planet to planet, and their training ingrained it into them to hold the line. If they fell and crumbled, then the wall would fall and crumble. It was much like how their ancestors had fought with shield and sword.

They were a hardy group and Nerva knew them well. They would do what he asked without question, well, maybe a few comments and jokes, but they’d get the job done.

Nerva moved out of the way of a stretcher bot that was hauling a Trooper away; they’d got plasma burns on their chest and stomach. Nerva’s face became cold as he saw the damage.

“In other news, the EHC found out that Harmony was sending a fleet at Earth. They’re now mobilizing to defend Earth,” NIDenise said.

What’s their plan?” Nerva asked, knowing that NIDenise was trying to keep his mind off those who had died carrying out his orders.

“They’re going to pull the best Troopers off Fernix and send them to help out Earth. Once there, they will be the center of any defenses. They will attack the Harmony fleet and hopefully whittle them down. Wherever Harmony lands, the Troopers will follow, trying to pin them into small areas and hold them there.”

“How the hell are they going to pull the forces off Fernix? That’s going to leave a major hole in their defenses.” Nerva made it past the defensive corridors and into the legion and auxiliary areas, which extended around the city that lay past them. The people were going about their lives as best as possible to create some normality. Having people panicking was hell to deal with.

“They’re pulling everyone off the Blue Moon. The Carriers are going to stop anything from leaving the planet and then bomb anything that looks remotely like a Chosen facility. It looks like Nivad isn’t worried about the breakage and losses that the Fernix Partnership is going to see. Though they do still have their unused and untouched yards just floating around.”

“Hopefully, this time the collection team can extract the Victors - all of them,” Nerva thought-spoke. “Have you put in an order for warm food for Centurion Pullo’s people?”

“Already done.”

“Good,” Nerva said. He wanted to look into the events going on in Earth and Her Colonies. It felt like he was giving up on the people he had left behind by not looking, though he needed to focus on his own battle. Once his fight on Goulag was done, then he could look into what was happening in the EHC. Right now he didn’t need distractions.

He sent a silent prayer up to the Gods, asking for them to look over the people he had left behind in the EMF, and those who were fighting alongside them. He sent another one for his people on Goulag. Every bit of luck and good fortune was welcome.

Chapter 64

Factory Complex Three

Blue Moon, Fernix System

3/3296

The plan was written up, the orders had been given, and the preparations were complete. The Combat Shuttles had continued on their normal routes, though now they only brought down the basics and were taking up camp equipment and supplies.

The camps were becoming bare as the first Troopers were flown away. Those that were left behind made it appear like there were more people in the camps than there actually were.

I just hope it continues to go this smoothly, Tyler thought.

The plan was to pull out the Troopers slowly, so that the Chosen were none the wiser. When the last forces on the line were left, the Carriers would start hammering the hell out of pre-marked targets; every Chosen target that the EMF knew about.

Combat Shuttles would come in to pull the people off the line. They were to bring everything they could and pile on, heading up to the Carriers.

The camps would be bombed into oblivion, denying the Chosen use of them.

Once everyone was secured up in the Carriers, the four Carriers intended for Earth would set out on their journey, adding armor panels and weapons from the Harmony vessels.

Tyler didn’t know how Moretti had got the go ahead, as it would cost Earth’s Military Forces a pretty penny to get all of that armor mounted, the power plants installed, and the weapons systems integrated. It would also take years off the EMF personnel’s contracts on the four Carriers.

Well, if you’re desperate enough, you’ll agree to anything as long as you survive, Tyler thought, looking out over the line from his pillbox.

He heard Repulsor fire down the line and the whistle of mortars. It missed the line, hitting somewhere in the camp. Moments later, the ground shook as a Carrier fired on where the mortar had fired from.

There was a crack of a bolt-action Chosen rifle as Tyler saw one of his people’s green markers go red.

He followed the noise of the round, swinging his own AMR up. He watched and waited, then movement caught his eye as he shifted his aim, and he stroked the trigger.

A bloody red mark showed on a pipe in the upper rafters of the factory to his front. A bolt-action rifle dropped to the ground; its user wouldn’t be needing it again.

Medics were stabilizing the Troopers, while stretcher-bearers carried them back to the camp’s bunkers.

Seven days, we just need seven days and we’ll all be gone, Tyler thought. The mounted Repulsors fired, twin streams of tracers pinging off some sheet metal, and shredding two Chosen scouts that had been behind it.

Tyler yawned. When he thought about it, he was disturbed by how much he had become desensitized by death. He’d been dealing with it ever since he was born. People died, and he just hoped he killed those that intended him or his people harm before they got the chance to carry out those intentions.

***

“Shit,” Ortiz hissed, looking at the sensor sticks, which were showing Chosen moving towards three different camps. It looked like they were going to try for another concentrated push.

Ortiz could only watch as the Combat Shuttles’ orders were changed to pull out; the camps that would come under attack were getting evacuated first. It was the right call.

Well there’s a first time for everything, he thought as he looked at his own lines. If the Chosen were looking to attack the other camps, then they might try something at his own.

“Alright, it looks like the Chosen are fucking about. I want everyone on the line who’s not getting pulled out immediately. I’m putting a request up to higher to pull out our forces as fast as possible,” Ortiz said, getting lines of green lights from his captains and lieutenants. “Be ready for incoming Chosen; I will advise you on what the Carriers say.” Ortiz closed the channel and started calling up Moretti. It took a few minutes before he was connected.

“Wondered how long it would be till you called me,” Moretti said.

“Well, looks like you’re the boss of this whole mess.”

“Don't tell me about it,” Moretti said, confirming what Ortiz had been thinking for a long time. He couldn’t think of many of the generals coming up with inspiring plans such as Moretti had been fielding out through Ortiz and other Fearless commanders on the ground. The fact that the plans didn’t look for political gain between EMF leadership and generals was also telling.

Either the generals had been lobotomized and become real humans, or there was someone bashing them over the head and using their political whims against them.

“What’s the plan looking like?” Ortiz asked.

“Pulling out of all the camps that are definitely getting engaged first. I’m sending all of the Combat Shuttles that can fly onto the flight deck, and rousing every last crew to man them. We don’t have the lift capacity we once had, but it should make the extraction a matter of hours instead of days. I’m going to give the camp officers the ability to call in direct fire from the Carriers. The camps are to hold only as long as it takes for the Combat Shuttle to pull everyone out,” Moretti said.

“What about the bomb making facilities?”

“I have Carriers moving into position to turn them into craters. Captain Hall is handling that side of things, but none of the Carriers will be coming close to the Blue Moon. I want at least a minute’s flight time between the Blue Moon and the Carriers. We only have a finite number of Carriers; we can’t be losing any.”

“Understood, that’s going to make the close targeting annoying.”

“These guns can hit something millions of kilometers away, so that won’t be a problem, but the tumble and the angle’s going to be weird I’m told. We need to watch where a Carrier’s firing from in case they shoot, hit the ground and the blast wave hits your forces on the other side,” Moretti said.

“Well, shit, this gets better and better,” Ortiz mumbled.

“Let the other officers know what’s going on, general. I’ve got Carriers and officers to beat into place,” Moretti’s voice was cold with promised violence.

“General?” Ortiz asked.

“Well, I need to give you a rank with the authority. I can’t be handling everything on the ground while I’m sorting out officers. You deal with the ground. I’ll deal with the brass, Hall will deal with the Carriers, and flight control are sending you their Combat Shuttles,” Moretti said.

“See them, thanks,” Ortiz said as rail cannon started firing down on the Blue Moon, and their impacts could be felt even in Ortiz’s bunker.

“Good luck,” Moretti said, closing the channel.

“You too,” Ortiz said over the dead line. There was little he could do, other than make sure people followed orders and got their asses on a Combat Shuttle and the hell off Blue Moon.

He looked around his bunker. The view screens were gone, his staff was just five people and all of them were wearing their helmets or using surfaces to work on empty crates around the room. They looked up at him, realizing that he was done with whatever he’d been doing.

“Let’s get armored up, our people might need some help,” Ortiz said. Surfaces were stowed and people started to head out of the bunker’s command center.

He followed, heading into an armory. There weren’t many rounds left over, and the charging cradles for the powered armor had been all ripped up, except for a few dozen. There were a few batteries left, but that was it.

Ortiz got into his powered armor and signaled his implants to lock him into the metal beast. It locked around him, and he started to walk for the airlock out of the bunkers and into the tunnels.

Time that I got into the fight for real, Ortiz thought. He hated being a damn commanding officer. It meant sending out orders, knowing that people were going to die without any of the risk to himself.

He wished he was out on the lines fighting the enemy face to face, knowing that if he was going to send people into hell he would be right alongside them.

Chapter 65

EMFC Fearless

Fernix Prime’s Orbit, Fernix System

3/3296

Captain Hall looked at his screens, which just a few hours ago had been sedate and slow. He had been reading reports and checking on the repairs that were still ongoing across his ship. He was going to have a conference with the other ship captains to see how their own repairs were doing.

Now, his screens were filled with Combat Shuttles rushing out of Carriers and hauling the remainders of camps out. The Chosen had caught on all too quickly that something was up. For two hours they’d kept their peace.

“I’ve got Chosen moving in force against all of the camps, it looks like. Seems that there are also groups going to the bomb factories,” Rasalov said.

Hall nodded to himself, taking his time before giving the order that they all knew was coming. It would distract the Chosen, but it would still take another four or so hours to lift everyone off the Blue Moon.

He needed that distraction to come as late as possible in order to mess up the Chosen. Now, it looked like he would have to give it earlier than he would have liked.

“Lieutenant Guy, send the order to the Carriers that they are to hit their pre-selected targets. Celik, once all of the Carriers are ready, I want you to coordinate simultaneous strikes. I want to hit them so hard they forget what day of the week it is,” Hall said. Over time he cared less about the pompous relationships on his bridge and more about the fact that they got work done. He found that letting the standards slide at times made them better fighters.

“Yes, sir,” Celik said, and Guy gave a thumbs up as he worked his microphone, talking to the rest of the fleet.

Hall waited a few minutes, then the EMF fleet seemed to shift, the rail cannon firing as thrusters on the opposite side fired to stop the Carrier from moving.

The entire fleet opened up as Fearless shook with the bellows of her massive cannon. They moved from target to target, saturating the areas where every Chosen facility that the scouts had found were located. They fired enough rounds to crack any possible bunkers and tear anything apart that was down there.

Factory roofs disappeared as rounds hit the moon, the impacts sending the factories into the air or across the planet like so much other floating debris.

The Blue Moon rolled with the vicious hits, but Hall’s attention was quickly turned to the flight controllers’ information feeds. They didn’t have nearly as much ammunition as he hoped and he knew that the Chosen weren’t going to take the attack lying down. It might have bought them a few hours to get more people out, though once the Chosen engaged someone, anyone...

Hall suppressed a chill that ran down his spine.

Have to hope that the flight control is exaggerating the numbers, he thought.

Chapter 66

Factory Complex Three

Blue Moon, Fernix System

3/3296

“Here they come,” Hamdi, one of the two surviving Fox Regiment lieutenants, said. Yule, the other, had remained in the Foxes while Hamdi had come across to the Devil Dogs.

Jerome moved his Repulsors, making sure that they hadn’t become stuck. His augments removed any signs of fatigue and made him more alert than any unaltered human in existence.

Red carats started appearing as Chosen crossed through the sensor sticks that had been laid out beyond the lines. Some had run out of power, others had been destroyed by fighting or the Chosen.

They still had enough out there to get a good view of the Chosen force that was rushing in from multiple directions at full tilt from a kilometer away.

“PACs,” Tyler said, confirming Jerome’s thoughts. The Chosen were pulling out their PACs again though, by the numbers, it looked like there was a good number of regular Chosen thrown in too.

“Fearless, this is Devil Dogs, looking for weapons fire to our front, Chosen moving to our position.” Jerome looked to either side, and saw the Troopers that were ready and waiting for the Chosen to make their appearance.

“Devil Dogs, this is Fearless fire control. We see targets, will coordinate with the Carrier Dauntless to get supporting fire,” Fearless’ fire control said.

“Understood. Waiting. Out,” Jerome said.

AMRs fired from behind the forward lines in their own dugouts and positions, hitting the Chosen that were coming into view.

“Wait for it,” Tyler cautioned. Jerome nestled behind his gun, watching the approaching PACs that were firing across the crater-pocked ground left by multiple artillery, Carrier and Combat Shuttle strikes.

‘Cept now the Combat Shuttles are trying to get us out of here as fast as possible. The Carriers have limited ammunition and the damned artillery is already back aboard the Carriers! Jerome gnashed his jaws together, watching the advancing PACs. A lucky shot hit the cermite pillbox he was in and he flinched, cursing the bastard under his breath. Jerome looked around at the other gunners. They too were waiting with their mounted guns.

“Jerome?” Tyler asked, a note of anxiousness in his voice.

“I don’t know where the fire is. I’ll call them up again,” Jerome said, answering the question in Tyler’s voice, switching to his channel with Fearless’ fire control.

“Fearless, this is Devil Dogs, where the fuck is my support fire?” Jerome asked, his voice harsh.

“Dauntless said that they would liaise with you,” Fearless’ fire controller said, sounding perplexed.

“Well get me that fucking fire, right fucking now!”

“Sir.”

“Well, it looks like we’re going to start this party without the Carriers,” Tyler said, his voice tight. “Fire!”

Jerome and every Trooper along the line opened up with their Repulsors. Their wave of fire added Chosen to the dead that tried to cross where factories had been reduced to support beams and craters.

In the low gravity, the bodies were thrown backwards into their fellows, before being brushed aside. The PACs hammered them out of the way, crushing bodies that had fallen on the ground.

The Chosen closed the distance, approaching to just two hundred meters when artillery started raining down on them. The fire was close. It killed the Chosen but it also fucked up the Troopers’ ability to see.

“Fire control! Danger fucking close, you’re going to hit our own fucking people! Get that fire moved back a few hundred meters!” Jerome yelled. If he made it off Blue Moon, he was going to have some serious fucking words with whomever was controlling those guns over on Dauntless.

“Seen, working with Dauntless, they’re all fucked up over there,” fire control said, sounding pissed off.

“Get it dealt with!” Jerome snapped, shutting the channel. He didn’t have any more time to deal with the controller or his idiot secondary on Dauntless.

Jerome saw some new targets on his HUD, relying on the sensor sticks that were getting pounded on by their own fire support to find the Chosen.

The fire support fucked off and the Chosen were still just a few hundred meters away. They’d amassed more of their forces under the cover of the Carrier.

Jerome didn’t need to use enemy carats to see his targets, guiding his red tracer line across the Chosen’s advancing front, but it was getting hard to see what were floating bodies and what were enemy combatants.

Jerome sought out PACs; they were the real threat in all the mess. He took down a number of them, but the Chosen were still advancing, and there was little more that the Troopers could do.

It was math. Weapon fire versus armor and numbers. The Chosen had decent armor and more people.

Chosen regulars started making it into the trenches, only to be greeted with PA wearing Troopers. A good hit or burst from the Troopers left them mangled and flying away.

“Prepare to pull back to the second line,” Tyler called. They didn’t want to hold the first line anyway. It looked impressive, but they had a Regiment to cover a distance meant for an entire force.

“By the numbers!” Tyler called out just a few minutes later. Jerome grabbed the mounted Repulsor assembly; the ammunition boxes had been welded to it for just this reason.

No normal human could have lifted the creation back on Earth, but on the Blue Moon and with the strength of the powered armor it was a different matter.

Jerome moved faster than the fastest augmented humans on Earth. He used the sides of the trench like sides of a pool, the low gravity allowing him to jump through the trenches back to the second line. He covered the open ground to the second line and set up at the new position.

He checked over the indicators that showed Two Platoon, under Dominguez’ command, was with him.

Jerome slapped his gun into place, and Troopers were yelling with sergeants and officers moving around to make sure everyone was in the right place. Then they started firing over One and Three Platoons, right into the teeth of the Chosen.

It seemed that no one was interested in giving them any kind of fire support, and One and Three Platoons pulled back, rushing to their new positions.

“Jerome, where the hell is your fire support?” Yu asked, breaking into his helmet.

“No fucking idea. Dauntless fucked up hard. You know anyone in the area?”

There were a few minutes, as One and Three Platoons were getting into their positions and adding their fire back at the Chosen. They hadn’t lost any Troopers yet, though Jerome didn’t even try to think that would continue. To do so would only bring on bad luck.

“Jerome! Got some people coming in with fire support, linking you,” Young said.

“Thanks, Young.” Jerome hadn’t talked to her since Haas had died, and unbidden memories came into his mind. He cursed himself for thinking of Haas and those that he had lost, now was not the time.

Combat Shuttles came in low and fucking deadly, their weapons leaving lines of tracers through the sky, as plumes of dust and dead bodies showed where they’d landed. Missiles rushed down to meet the ground, explosions adding more dust to the sky and clearing out the Chosen that were just starting to enter the trenches. Troopers were keeping the ones that had already made it in contained.

The Combat Shuttles’ auto-turrets and cannon blared above, catching the Chosen’s front.

With their fire and the Devil Dog’s fire they were able to hold the Chosen back.

“Hit them with missiles,” Jerome said.

A moment later missiles tracked into the middle of the Chosen, throwing them like rag dolls. The Chosen stopped advancing and started running.

“The Combat Shuttles don’t have much ammo left, they’re going for refill. I’ll get talking to some Carriers, see if we can’t get you some constant fire support,” Young said.

“Thanks.”

“No worries, Jerome,” she said, her voice softening. They might be soldiers, but they were all friends. They’d risked their lives together, making a bond that was hard to break.

Jerome opened a channel to Tyler. “Young is looking to get our fire support sorted out.”

“Good.” Tyler opened the channel to the lieutenants. “Secure the trenches, looks like we’ve pushed them back for now. I want us to stay at this position instead of pushing back up to the front lines. Check the charges in the trench’ walls, and activate the mines that are in the open land and in the trenches. I intend to make the bastards pay for every inch they come into our camp.”

Green lights showed up as orders were passed and Troopers were sent out to clear out any Chosen hiding in the trenches.

Just an hour to go, Jerome thought, looking to his mounted Repulsor and setting it firmly into the firing step that had been cut into the trench, so that the Repulsor’s barrels were above the trench’s lip.

***

Ten minutes to go, Alexis thought. They had left a Section of Troopers at the secondary lines as the rest had filed out onto their Combat Shuttles.

Now, the Chosen were showing activity, and not just on the surface. Fighters were launching, heading right for the Carriers, or for Combat Shuttles.

Cold panic rushed through her as a Combat Shuttle that was leaving fired on a fighter accelerating at a hellish speed. It had come out of the Blue Moon’s factories’ atmosphere streaking behind it as it slammed into the side of the Combat Shuttle. Both craft went up in a fiery explosion, the debris rushing away from the Blue Moon.

Alexis wanted to resurrect the Chosen bastard just to kill them again. She closed her eyes and sighed, looking at her maps.

Dooks had been on that shuttle, now there was just Yule’s Platoon left.

The Section that had been left behind were firing everything they had at the oncoming Chosen. A few of their rounds found an extra little surprise as Chosen exploded.

“They’re wearing fucking explosives,” Mark cursed. “Pull back to the fourth line, prime the explosives and mines.”

Combat Shuttles came down with heavy machines guns firing into the sky and Carriers fired back at them. The Chosen had put their guns up on the roofs of the factories again as the Combat Shuttles were preoccupied and heading to the same places. It made them predictable and easy targets.

Alexis ducked for cover as fire came over the landing pad, and she laid down, firing back at the Chosen. Combat Shuttles fired over the top, with Troopers piling in and the craft taking off as fast as possible.

Mines and explosive vests went off among the Chosen, slowing their advance. The incoming and exiting Combat Shuttles sowed their own death with auto-cannon and turrets.

“Move it, Alexis!” Mark ordered. Alexis wanted to argue; he always made everyone leave before him. But he was her commanding officer.

“Sir!” she said, turning and running with other Troopers for a Combat Shuttle that was coming into a hover. The Troopers ran up it as it skimmed over the cleared factory floor.

She was one of the last in. The cargo master hit the emergency shut, and the ramp snapping up closed as the Combat Shuttle’s engines roared to life and took off.

***

Mark didn’t pay attention to the shuttles taking off as he and the last Sections pulled back onto the landing pad. The Chosen were still having one hell of a time getting through all the mines.

A few got to the other side and Mark triggered the explosives in the trench’ walls. They were cut down with directed shrapnel that ripped through the thickest PAC armor.

It stalled the Chosen, but they could smell Trooper blood, and nothing was going to stop them as they continued to charge forwards.

Mark and the remaining Troopers fired everything they had at the Chosen, making any progress hell.

Combat Shuttles weren’t even landing as Troopers piled onto them. Dead lay strewn across the landing pad, with some bolt-action rifles hitting the retreating Troopers.

Others with wounds were hauled into craft, which took off as soon as they were all aboard.

Fighters were rushing towards Carriers. Mark could see the occasional explosion above, and tracer fire. He didn’t have time to care about that as he searched out Chosen targets.

“Final lift, move!” Tyler yelled as the last four Combat Shuttles came in. None of the Troopers needed any more encouragement; they got to their feet and set off at the almost horizontal skating pace that they used to move fast.

Magnetic leads grabbed onto shuttles, speeding up the process as people piled in. Mark was the last in, and he turned himself around as he crashed into the Combat Shuttle.

He saw Chosen making it past the third line of defense as the shuttle piled on the power. Mark felt himself being propelled back towards the rear of the shuttle, fear gripping him as he thought he was going to fall out.

“Fuuuck!” he yelled, as the ramp slammed closed and Mark’s feet hit it.

“You okay?” Tyler asked, sounding anxious as hell.

“Near pissed myself, thought that the ramp wouldn’t close in time.”

Tyler laughed out of relief and Mark found himself laughing too as they headed away from Blue Moon. Their fight for Fernix and the Blue Moon was over.

Now they had to prepare to defend Earth from Harmony. If they didn’t, then all of their losses, all of their fighting, would be for nothing.

Chapter 67

Tower

Earth, Sol System

4/3296

“The Troopers have been extracted from the Blue Moon and are reforming into units that will fight in Sol,” Wallace said.

Nivad looked to Dalia, the only other person in the room. “How are we looking on Earth?”

“People were not pleased with all of the pulling out from Blue Moon,” Dalia said. “Some people are saying that it makes us look like a bunch of cowards. If we can show the Troopers going back to retake and control the Blue Moon before we fight here on Earth, it will make it look like a brilliant tactical decision.”

“Have we been able to contain the fact that Harmony is coming here?” Nivad asked.

“No,” Dalia said.

“Good.” Nivad knew that no one would be able to keep a secret like that forever, so he’d made sure to talk to a few of the people that were looking to take power from him, or that had been staunch supporters, telling them that Harmony was coming.

It rewarded his supporters and put those who wanted to take his power in his pocket.

“What have been the Troopers’ suggestions on defenses?” Nivad asked.

“Our agent has promoted a Major Ortiz to the rank of general. They are saying that it will take a few weeks as the Troopers game out various situations. Ammunition and replacements for the broken or lost equipment are among the top requirements,” Dalia said.

“See that they have it. While they are making their way to Earth, we need to secure our position at the top of Earth and Her Colonies. We cannot have the companies squabbling, especially in the middle of a war for Sol. We will have enough troubles without companies using the chaos to act out old grudges on their opponents,” Nivad said looking at the other two. They looked less pleased talking about that than they did about the oncoming war.

They still can’t wrap their heads around the fact that there will be fighting on Earth, or, at the very least, in Sol. Their lives are in danger, but they don’t know war other than the entertainment and the numbers they see on a screen. They know political standing and companies. It will be good to have them focus on that instead of the fact that if Harmony wins then we will be all executed. Or the fact that we might even die among the battles.

Nivad didn’t understand war, but he never felt emotions for himself or others. Dalia and Wallace did, but then, when they watched the Troopers fighting and dying, it was like a sports match for them. They were detached like Nivad, and it made them good controllers.

“I approved the requests; the agent has been asking about information on strong points, full layouts of Mega City and every other populated city that houses companies. They also asked for information on any defenses already in place,” Dalia said.

“Give him the ones of the companies and such, let’s keep the tower’s and any other ministry locations’ defenses to ourselves,” Nivad said. The agent from Masoul had proved themself to be invaluable, though Nivad had never met them and he didn’t want to give away secrets that only a select few knew. “What about the space defenses of the system?”

“We are giving our contracts to companies that have been good supporters, or that we have enough leverage over to make sure that they don’t share plans or sell weapons on to others. I have contacted The Yard to make the hulls of the fighters based on the earlier space fighters. They will produce two hundred, handing them over to other companies to be fitted with controls, interfacing hardware, and weapons. Our recruiters are looking at the EMF applicants, and picking out suitable fighter pilots. We will be starting the school from scratch, but we have fifty years to do it in and we have all of the histories of Earth’s previous space-navies,” Wallace said.

“Good, I want to also have long-range projections of possible uses of the fighters. Having them able to harass targets on colonies afterwards will be useful.” Nivad knew there was a lot of money going into making these fighter craft, and he didn’t want them to be useless once the battle of Earth was done.

“I will look into it,” Wallace promised with a nod.

Nivad looked over his table, which showed various pieces of information. “Then we’d best get prepared for these Harmony bastards.” Nivad’s voice was calm but the effect of using ‘bastards’ made both Dalia and Wallace look up sharply. Nivad almost never swore and, if he did, then it was likely that the person who had made him swear was not long for the land of the living.

Chapter 68

EMFC Fearless

Fernix system moving to Sol system

4/3296

Mark nursed a beer quietly in a corner, and Jerome, Ortiz, Ko, Yule, and Hamdi sat with him.

The two couples, Dashtund and Dominguez, and Tyler and Alexis were off on a double date.

Dooks, like so many others, hadn’t made it back from Blue Moon.

For the first time, they had time to reflect on their actions on Blue Moon. Memories that Mark had pushed away were threatening to make him dive back into the drink like he had after Masoul.

“For the lost, good people, good Troopers, and damn good friends,” Mark said, raising his cup.

“For the lost,” the others said back, all of them tapping their drinks on the table before taking a drink.

Mark nursed his beer as Ortiz sat back into his seat, looking weary as hell and as if he had aged ten years. Ko started to talk to Jerome about staffing changes.

Mark, well, Mark thought of the lost. ‘Dooks’ Dushresznikov, Waz, Niemi, Iliev, Ali, Tal, Sasaki, Zukic, Haas. He drank as he thought, and the others left him alone as he thought of the Troopers he’d trained with on Blue Moon. The ones that had become his own, had been Devil Dogs alongside him.

He thought of Sergeant Pullo, of Master Corporal Gupta and even Dolche, the first Section that he had been a part of. Emotions welled up and he made an excuse to go to the bathroom. People got out of the way of his bulk as he moved to the washroom.

Bracing himself against the sink, he looked at the tap.

He thought of all those that he had lost. The people that had followed him and those he had followed in the beginning. Emotions, hot and heavy worked their way to the surface. He looked up, laughing at the good times, hot tears running down his cheeks at the loss of so many great people.

They’re gone, but God, were they brilliant fucking bastards, he thought, crying. Someone opened the door to the bathroom and Mark washed his hands, covering his shame at his own emotions. He splashed some water on his face, pushing his feelings away and hiding his tears as he wiped his face.

He looked into his own eyes again and studied his face; it was hard and cold.

He wasn’t a good man; hell, he wasn’t even a decent man. He had watched millions of people die just because they had been part of an uprising. Sure, he thought that it was stupid and that the people were guilty of turning a blind eye to what they were condoning.

They had supported the subjugation of others for their own means. His anger had burned bright to destroy all of Harmony. He understood why the order had been given to deploy toxins to Housapel and Fernix.

Anger, fresh and painful, turned in towards him. He was a captain in Earth’s Military Forces. He wasn’t a good man, he wasn’t a decent man, and he hated himself for that, but he now knew that he couldn’t fight any more uprisings.

A part of him was hoping that he would die so that he could leave behind all of the suffering. He was a war hero, someone that was known across the EHC for his deeds. Diablo, the war God. He’d seen the posters across the civilian nets.

He would defeat Harmony or die trying, but after that… he couldn’t fight any more colonists that were just trying to find a better way of life.

I can’t fight another Sacremon, he thought, understanding dawning upon him.

War had taught him something that he hadn’t realized before; he could kill for a cause, he could kill for those that were to either side of him, and he would do it in a heartbeat. Yet, being the aggressor, the enforcer - if he did that, then he would be no better than Harmony.

He moved out of the washroom, memories of the lost tugging at the back of his head as he remembered having a drink with those that had been killed. The plans they’d made, the ways they’d turned slum dwellers and Troopers doing the bare minimum into true soldiers.

A good looking dark tanned girl with black hair brushed against Mark, her hand touching his arm.

Mark paused, looking at her, coming out of his thoughts.

“Let me know if you’re looking for someone to share your cot,” she said with a smile.

Mark smiled and nodded to her, walking away. His face fell as soon as he looked away. He stored the card and made his way back to the table.

I don’t have time for distractions. I have a war to plan, Mark thought, driven to lose as few friends as possible to Harmony’s last action.

He made his way back to his table, ordering more beers. Planning could wait until tomorrow, for tonight they would do the memories of their friends proud.

“Cigar?” Jerome asked, as he took his seat.

“Thanks,” Mark’s voice was gruff as he took a Cohelean cigar and smelled it.

“Hard to think it’s been three planets since Sacremon,” Jerome said, his voice soft as he offered Mark a lighter. Mark flicked out his hidden blade and snipped the cigar.

“Yeah,” Mark said. He thought of Gupta, who had talked about his ritual to have a Cohelean cigar after every campaign.

He puffed on the cigar until it was lit.

“We’ve lost too many friends.” Mark leaned against the back of his seat.

Jerome puffed on his cigar, nodding.

“I think it’s time we see if we could retire,” Mark said, holding Jerome’s eyes, and understanding passed between them.

“I couldn’t handle another Sacremon.”

“You and me both.”

Now we just have to survive Earth, Mark said silently, promising to himself that it would be his last war.