Osdal (Harmony War Series Book 3)

by Michael Chatfield

  Jerome, Sasaki and Dooks jogged towards the largest work shed that served the massive mining machines for the shaft mines.

  The rest of the section came in, and Mark took a seat on a barrel, pulling off his helmet.

  “The hell do you think you’re doing, Sergeant?!” Regiment Sergeant Major Halls barked at Mark’s relaxed position.

  Cold anger ran through Jerome as he moved to intercept the man.

  “You’re not even wearing your full armor, and you look like you’re barely combat ready. You’re a fucking disgrace to the uniform! Should have you shipped back up to Reclaimer to get back into cryo!” The Regiment Sergeant Major said.

  Jerome picked up his pace as Mark stood, and there was something different about him. He didn’t yell at the Sergeant Major; his anger was cold instead of hot.

  “Halls,” Sholtz started.

  “Take your fucking uniform,” Mark said, ripping off his helmet and armor and tossing it at the man.

  “Arrest this man and take him to Reclaimer!” Halls yelled, looking to the Troopers acting as his and Sholtz’s aides.

  Some made to move, but stopped as his shirt came off. Seeing the damage to Mark on a video was one thing, seeing it in the flesh was something else. There were scars running all across his back and head, his chest was less scarred but from the way Mark was breathing it was clear he still had broken bones. Even the Sergeant Major looked at Mark in shock.

  “Don’t you ever think about trying to stop me from killing Harmony, or I’ll fucking come for you,” Mark said, and it wasn’t a threat, it was a promise. He grabbed his E-12 and walked away.

  “Mark,” Captain Sholtz called.

  “Go fuck yourself, I’m going to Mining City Twenty-One.”

  “Mark!” Haas called. Mark turned towards the man. There wasn’t any emotion on his face, and the sight rocked Jerome to his core.

  “Get yourself fixed up. Tyler, go with him,” Haas said.

  “Yes sir,” Mark said, nodding to Haas.

  “Why that little…” Halls started, his voice growing in volume.

  “Shut the fuck up, Halls,” Sholtz said, his voice sharp and low, cutting the Sergeant Major off.

  Halls looked to Sholtz in alarm.

  “While we were up in our carrier, he was down here in the camps. That video of the man getting towed behind an air car, that was him. So just stow it,”

  Jerome and the rest of the platoon grouped together, away from Halls. Jerome knew most of them wanted to take the Regimental Sergeant Major round back and feed him a few punches.

  Jerome’s implants told him that the Sergeant Major had been in one combat drop that had consisted three months of conflict and five years of making sure the population got the idea that the Corporations and Troopers were not to be messed with.

  Fucking pencil pusher.

  ***

  Tyler caught up with Mark, and hesitated for a second before patting Mark’s back.

  “I’m glad you’re safe,” Tyler said.

  “Thanks,” he said, his voice dry and low.

  The old Mark would have made some quip to show he was okay, even if he wasn’t. Tyler knew something was different. People changed and what Mark had been through; Tyler couldn’t even imagine it.

  They walked in silence, happy that the other was okay but also wrapped in their own thoughts.

  The medics got hold of Mark, dosing him up, sticking his hands in printers and putting him off to the side.

  Tyler went off and grabbed some gear, and returned to find Mark had passed out. The first techs and armorers had landed and they were working to turn the pad as a midway point between the front lines and the carriers. Tyler sat with Mark, he’d looked over him for so many nights while he’d been in the camp that he didn’t want to let him out of his sight now.

  Tyler could tell that Mark was different, but he was his brother and he was alive. The rest could wait.

  Chapter 48

  System Freighter Kelas

  Osdal Actual, Osdal System

  8/3267

  Luke walked into his quarters aboard the Kelas. They were well-appointed, with most items that people wouldn’t have in their normal housing units.

  He accessed his implants and the view screens in his office came to life, showing the EMF fleet around Osdal Actual and Osdal Three. All of the communications networks were still working, so all of the information was being sent to Fernix and Housapel, too.

  He opened up another window that showed a launch sequence and targeting parameters. He changed the parameters to target one ship, he would get one shot and he didn’t want to waste it. He activated the firing sequence, changing the missile platforms from silent running to firing mode.

  The target would see all of the missile platforms, but there would be little that they could do. Luke made sure to check the communications channels against it; he didn’t want this information to go missing. If they were to win the war, Harmony needed to know the strengths and weaknesses of the EMF. To do that they needed to run tests, like shooting a carrier up, or fighting against Troopers with powered armor. Only when they had done that could they learn how to defeat them.

  “The freighters are all headed out of the system, we don’t anticipate that any will be stopped on their exit,” Luke’s head bodyguard said. He was staying with Luke until they were clear of the system and well on their way to Housapel.

  “Very well. Have lunch prepared, I’m feeling a little hungry, and get the freighters to report their inventories to me,” Luke said.

  “Yes sir.” The bodyguard turned away, using his implants to carry out Luke’s orders.

  Luke let a smile spread across his features, he was clear of Osdal and he would be going to Housapel. He would have the information they needed to defeat the EMF.

  Victory was assured, all they needed to do was wait for the EMF to come to them and crush it.

  Chapter 49

  EMFC Reclaimer

  Osdal Actual, Osdal System

  8/3267

  “We’ve got missile platforms coming online!” Denaski said frantically, her hands running across the various control surfaces and using her implants as weapons changed targets.

  Conti switched his view to hers, his eyes wide with shock. “How?”

  “Must have been lying dead, waiting for a command. Hard to see as anything other than the dead sensor grid, or the hundreds of satellites out here,” Denaski said.

  “The fleet is working to cut them down.”

  “We’ve got launch!” Denaski said, looking at her screens. The tactical computer had its orders and the weapons were firing, there wasn’t much she could do but watch now.

  Conti watched with her, holding his beard to hide his quivering chin.

  There were nearly three hundred launchers, each had five missiles. The guns were cutting them down, but many had gotten at least one missile or more off. Most had gotten off their entire magazine.

  Every single missile was targeted at EMFC Reclaimer.

  Conti slapped a control that made him carrier-wide. “Abandon ship!” Just a few of those missiles could do a lot of damage, and there were hundreds coming at him. “Do everything we can to buy them time,” he said, looking to his bridge crew.

  They knew what he was saying and they bent to their tasks. There wasn’t enough time for them to escape and they knew how fragile the bridge was, based up on the exterior of the carrier.

  They might be able to get more people off the ship, but they wouldn’t survive.

  Denaski turned security firewalls off and ran the computers as fast as they could go. The sensor was tied directly into guns, and as long as a target met the requirements they fired, there was no pause to check.

  The other carriers were lending their firepower but EMFC Reclaimer was in the center of the missile launches.

  They only had one armored side with guns, they couldn’t fight a battle on two sides.

  Combat Shuttles fled the carriers, supply lockers and p
ower plants were thrown free, the most expensive items of the carrier would be recovered by a team later.

  The carrier turned to red lighting as it ran on battery power.

  Conti looked out of the armor covered glass. The view screens attached to them gave him a panoramic view of the fighting deck. Sea whiz and rail cannons didn’t stop firing, tracers disappearing into the black of space. Missile tubes lit up with missile launches.

  Conti had never been prouder of his crew.

  The first missile exploded off of the bow, Conti saw it flash into brilliant light, and the carrier shuddered. People were thrown against their harnesses, and the hull was stripped bare of weapon emplacements where the missile had hit.

  Another hit to the rear of the ship, in the unarmored side. Red lights lit up the hologram of Reclaimer, they were leaking atmosphere and there were multiple decks open to space. The main engines were down.

  Another missile hit he belly of the carrier, ripping up through the hangar blisters, eating through decks.

  But the carrier kept fighting, guns blazing away into the darkness of space, leaking atmosphere and debris across Osdal’s orbit.

  Conti never saw the missile that exploded off of his unarmored side. It cut through the decks and the bridge as fast as light.

  The carriers continued to fight, her bridge crew dead. The tactical computers kept going.

  Four missiles slammed into the flight deck. They cracked the carrier and sections tumbles apart.

  Still those guns fired, running on batteries. They cut down missile after missile until they were out of ammunition and a missile finally reached them.

  Chapter 50

  Processing Station five

  Osdal Actual, Osdal System

  8/3267

  The fighting was fierce. There were powered armor-wearing fucks everywhere; the metal storm rifles weren’t that good at taking them down, but they took the Chosen bastards without armor just fine.

  There weren’t many Troopers but they were deadly bastards, as Felicia was learning. They ran at the powered armor bearing fucking swords.

  The swords cut through anything they touched with enough force. The Troopers didn’t always fare that well, but then they could actually kill the powered armor wearing units. The mining groups kept them and the unarmored Chosen pinned down and the Troopers ran from engagement to engagement.

  Alarms started going off on Felicia’s implants because she was still linked to Gold Runner. She got into cover and started changing her barrels out.

  “Shit,” she said as she watched Reclaimer’s dying throes as missile after missile hit the massive carrier. Debris and ejected resources were all over Osdal’s orbit.

  Missiles were exploding all over the place, they’d all been targeted on Reclaimer and they weren’t smart enough to try and find new targets, thankfully. They smashed into one another or were destroyed by EMF weapon fire. They hit shuttles and debris here and there by dumb luck.

  Felicia didn’t keep watching, she made sure all the barrels were seated in the rifle and turned the corner, firing on the Chosen.

  PAC’s advanced, firing from the hip and spraying from the hip.

  Cocky fuckers, she thought, ducking into cover, rounds hammering on the corner she hid behind.

  Grenade launchers went off, their dull thumps belying their effect.

  Powered armor staggered the explosions, throwing them back, Repulsor gunners fired at the stunned PAC’s, adding to the major concussion most of them were probably going through. The powered armor did the ‘dead man’s dance’, a term that had been coined by many.

  She saw more powered armor come from behind her position and she was about to fire on them when she noticed they had Trooper ranks and symbols on their shoulders and their names printed on their fronts. They had extra armor on them and used cover; the Chosen in powered armor acted like bullets couldn’t hurt them any more. The fact that the metal-storm rifles couldn’t get through anything except their joints kind of made that an annoying reality.

  The powered armor ran past the miners and Troopers, bearing swords, and crashed into the Chosen forces.

  The miners cheered, and the Troopers moved up to cover their buddies.

  Some guys wearing less armor and a cart came and grabbed the powered armor Chosen and started hauling them off.

  They’re converting them for use, she thought, not wanting to get in a dead man’s armor.

  The miners followed, adding themselves to the fray, and the fighting was quick and furious. The powered armor wearing Troopers bowled through the Chosen and kept going. Felicia called a rest; the miners had been fighting for hours and it was draining work.

  “Alright, let’s clear this damn station,” Felicia said, getting to her feet as Troopers carried in a disheveled looking woman, her space suit was torn and burnt, her lip was cut and there were multiple wounds on her already. She was yelling and trying to hurt the powered armor Troopers with her fists and feet.

  “Thought you might want this one,” one of the Troopers said.

  “Hello, Emilie Castillo,” Felicia said, stepping on a barricade and leaning forward at Emilie.

  Emilie’s eyes went wide as she looked at the asteroid miners. Felicia could feel them moving closer, like a pack of asteroid miners right before a beat-down.

  “Throw her out like the rest of the trash,” Felicia said, her lip curling in disgust.

  “Very well,” one of the Troopers said, and the woman’s struggles increased with panic.

  Felicia and her miners followed, a few recorded the moment, and Felicia let them get a better position.

  The Troopers tossed her into the airlock, the door shutting behind her. Felicia worked the panel, turning off the safety features. Emilie hammered on the airlock door, screaming and crying.

  “For your crimes, we the people of Fernix sentence you to death,” Felicia said, looking Emilie in the eyes, and pressing a button on the airlock’s controls.

  Felicia knew she would never forget that moment as overwhelming fear filled Emilie and she disappeared from view, the vacuum of space ripping her from the airlock. Felicia watched as she tumbled out into space.

  It was a hollow victory. Felicia felt somehow tainted with the experience, but she would have done it a hundred times again. The image of the Dudayev family still filled her mind.

  “Come on, we have a station to clear still.”

  Chapter 51

  Mining City Twenty-One

  Osdal Actual, Osdal System

  8/3267

  Ortiz felt his jaw grinding as he looked up at the dissipating explosion and new meteors that tumbled through Osdal’s atmosphere. They were the only remaining markers of EMFC Reclaimer. Other than the supplies that had been evacuated and the Combat Shuttles that got free or were on operations, there wasn’t anything left of the Reclaimer larger than an office desk.

  It had been Ortiz’s home for twenty-seven years, now it was gone.

  Don’t have time to think on that. He looked back to his maps, which were telling a nasty story. His forces were engaged with powered armor, they were in close combat, blades against armor. There were too many of the powered armor wearing Chosen to make it a fair fight, and his forces were getting hammered and pushed back.

  Everyone was erecting fall back positions to channel the powered armor and reduce the amount that they had to fight at one time.

  Ortiz ducked as a screamer went off, exploding in the middle of a group of powered armor Chosen that were running from one tower to another.

  Eight times out of ten they could make it from tower to tower, their armor was good enough to take a few hits from the Repulsors and E-12s, hell it took a few shots to the chest plate to even get through.

  He looked to the maintenance pad where Captain Sholtz was. They were quickly cleaning out the powered armor they had, slapping armor-up kits they’d made, and installing new operating software. It wasn’t the fastest process, but the Troopers would be better armored and hav
e better control than the Chosen. They were also trained and bloodied in real fights. Ortiz was hoping that was enough of an advantage.

  He looked to Alexis’s direct feed. It was a constant rolling update on supplies she had, the wounded and dead as well as when Combat Shuttles were moving all of the above.

  New Screamers had come in, so he sent priority orders to have them distributed to his hardened position on the one hundred and seventy third floor.

  Ortiz tried to ignore that number. God, I fucking hate heights.

  He glanced back up to the meteors falling from the carrier. He took a moment, remembering the people up there, and then went back to his reports. He needed to focus on the wounded; the tears and pain could come later.

  ***

  Mark’s eyes snapped open, and he looked around. Most people were looking up, so he fired up his implants and followed their gaze to the cloud of debris. His implants showed him the last minutes of EMFC Reclaimer, sped up.

  He got to his feet, and his body was better than it had been in months yet he felt heavy, the familiar feeling of knowing he wouldn’t see people ever again running through him.

  He remembered the bridge crew, he knew that they wouldn’t have left the bridge, in order to buy the crew every second they could.

  Tyler was there next to him, he stood as well.

  Mark grabbed his brother, hugging him tight, emotions welling up inside him. Tyler held onto him thumping his back.

  “Fuck, I was scared Mark,” Tyler said, his voice thick with emotion.

  “Don’t worry, I’m here now,” Mark said, they embraced one another again before releasing.

  “Should probably stay away from Halls from now on. We’re getting powered armor and then moved to support Mining City Twenty-One. It’s Sacremon all over again, but this time they’ve got powered armor and weapons that’ll punch through our armor,” Tyler said.

  “Much better than shotguns that shoot explosive shells,” Mark sighed, pulling a smart cloth shirt over his frame. The printers had been already taken away, other people needed them more than him. His fingers were back in place, and he barely even noticed that they had been replaced.