Masoul (Harmony War Series Book 2)

by Michael Chatfield

  Alexis got to her good leg and hopped out of the way. She saw the green markers of the powered armor moving from the Chosen lines, past the troopers that were now moving up to secure new ground and push their frontlines up.

  The wall to her side fell apart, powered armor, a foot and a half taller than her, walking through it as easily as the door a few meters away.

  SWAS was painted on its breastplate.

  Its helmet opened, showing Tyler’s face. His concern was clear as he looked at her mangled knee, covered with white sealant, and all the blood on her clothes.

  “I’m getting a leg redo,” Alexis said.

  Pedro, who’d returned from medical only a few hours ago, walked through the door and looked at her.

  “Get them moving up with the advance, I’ll be back as soon as can be. You’re section leader,” she said as officially as possible, looking at Pedro.

  “On it, sarge,” Pedro said, nodding to her in understanding and giving Tyler a nod in greeting before leaving.

  “I leave for a few months and you get that leg blown up,” Tyler growled, but his heart wasn’t in it.

  He was now just feet from her.

  “Take her up to the aid station, yah big mutt. I want you down here double-time, need you and that armor,” Haas said, hitting Tyler’s side, the metal making a dull thud.

  “Yes, sir,” Tyler said, hooking his repulsor to his side and picking Alexis up.

  She grabbed the back of his open helmet, and then pulled her own off. It was hard to see in the dark, only illuminated by the fires, tracers, and explosions that were now kicking off as the lead trooper units found bands of Chosen that had thought that they were the reserve but had quickly become the frontline.

  She pulled herself up and kissed his lips. He was salty from sweat, but it filled her with new energy as tension released knowing that he was alive and safe.

  ***

  “One package delivered. We’ve got a new mission,” Haas said. Mark jumped through a wall as he saw a large group of Chosen approach. The sensor net had been thoroughly fucked up with weapons fire, Moretti’s Chosen blowing themselves up, and the rampage of Triple-Twos behind the Chosen lines. “We’re to support the troopers to regain control of this floor,” Haas continued.

  Rounds followed in, one cracking his left knee’s extra armor but not actually hitting the motor beneath.

  “Motherfucker,” Mark growled.

  “Mark?” Haas said.

  “Enemy contact,” Mark quickly replied.

  Troopers behind Mark opened up, and Mark used the covering fire to edge back out. He fired on the Chosen, but they were still far away and getting a heavy machine gun sorted out.

  “Fucking dickheads!” Dashtund yelled.

  “Through the housing units?” Mark asked.

  “Sounds like a plan, boss, not your best, but fuck it’s fun running through walls,” Dashtund said. Mark and Dashtund were in opposite housing units and stepped back a few feet, aiming for the bathroom and sleeping areas.

  “Looks like those old cartoons where they go flying through the wall with just their outline,” Dashtund continued.

  Mark applied full power and pushed off with his right foot, the cermite flooring cracking from the pressure. He didn’t have time to care, as in two steps he barreled through a bathroom, water spewing all over the place. He then smashed through a bedroom, through a living room, and into another bedroom.

  “Can you two hurry up? Trying to do a briefing here,” Haas sighed.

  “Sorry, boss,” Mark said, smiling.

  “Yeah, fucking right!” Haas said with a small laugh.

  “Moving to assist, coming in from left side,” Dominguez said.

  “Welcome to the party! I knew you couldn’t resist running through walls,” Dashtund joked.

  “Keep talking and we’ll see just how many walls you can be thrown through,” Dominguez said.

  Dashtund laughed, Dominguez letting out a snort.

  Dashtund and Mark smashed through the last wall shoulder first and facing towards one another. Their guns were on an angle, pointing at the Chosen.

  Mark and Dashtund fired; it was impossible to miss the Chosen milling around the three heavy machine guns.

  Mark landed in a crouch. Neither he or Dashtund had given the Chosen time to react.

  Dominguez showed up with Ko and Niemi.

  “Down!” Ko barked.

  Dashtund and Mark dropped without a second thought, and repulsor rounds went over them, hitting Chosen that had been moving to reinforce the group Mark and Dashtund had cut down.

  The new group didn’t fare any better.

  “Clear,” Dominguez said. Mark and Dashtund got up, covered in dust from running through so many walls.

  Mark looked at the way he had come; he could see troopers jogging up through the holes he’d made.

  “Finished yet?” Haas asked, sounding like a father that was just waiting for his child to wear themselves out.

  “Looks like it,” Mark said. His section spread out, covering the hall. The troopers moved up at a run, a few of them giving them nods of thanks as they passed by.

  “Alrighty, then! We’re on support for the troopers to clear the floor. Once that’s done, we’re tasked to secure Harper,” Haas said.

  “What about the educators, who has them? Those fuckers can rally any group of Chosen,” Holm asked.

  “Oh, there’s no need to worry about that, the resistance will deal with them.” Haas’ voice was cold, and even Mark felt a shiver go down his spine. He doubted the resistance’s treatment would be pleasant. Fighting your way out from under an abusive ruler did not usually leave you as a nice person.

  Mark looked to his HUD, changing from a map of the nearby area to all of Landing City. Some towers were doing better, but many were doing worse. They needed to win here and move to support the other troopers.

  Mark’s jaw tightened as he checked his ammunition count and moved to follow the troopers around him.

  “Diablo, that you, Mark?” Captain Ortiz said, walking out from the ranks of troopers, two following him.

  His helmet was open, internal lights illuminating his face.

  The man was covered in the soot, dust, and shiny near-misses of those that had been at the front of the fighting. His left forearm looked thin and a new armor plating rested on it, evidence that it had been regrown.

  “Yes, sir,” Mark said, turning to fully face the man.

  “Good fucking work, you lot. Saved a lot of people.” Ortiz looked to them all, letting that sink in.

  “Remind me to get you all a beer later. For now, I’m told that you’re our support?” Ortiz asked.

  “Yes, sir, you engage them, we’ll hammer them,” Mark said, lifting his repulsor.

  “Fucking-A.” Ortiz smiled. He looked tired, but there was a glint in his eyes. Mark knew to never underestimate his officers.

  “Get a full ammo loadout, I want you in peak condition. How much running time do you have in those things?” he asked, getting professional again. One of the troopers must have talked to others coming by; a tech hauling a cart of ammunition stopped, another tech followed, and they pulled out ammunition boxes and started hooking them up to Mark and the rest of his section.

  “Twenty-two hours,” Mark said. “We’re down to eighteen. The more we fight, the more power we burn through.”

  “Okay, I’m going to use you in rotations, then. Organize into two groups; I’ll hold one in reserve and have the other hit any opposition we find, then rotate you around as soon as we’re clear of the Chosen,” Ortiz said, looking to Mark.

  “Yes, sir, that should allow us all to be at roughly the same power levels. As soon as we’re done clearing this floor, we’re being tasked out,” Mark said.

  Ortiz nodded. “Understood, Nerva already told me.”

  More techs and their ammunition supplies fed into the three repulsor packs Mark and his section were wearing.

  “You want some spray-
ite on those cracks and dents?” one of the techs asked, pointing to Mark’s various scuffs and his cracked knee plate.

  “Wanna coat the entire thing?” Mark asked.

  The tech looked Mark and the others over.

  “We’ll see what we can do,” the tech promised, heading to his supplies. He pulled out a large can of spray-ite and a metal plate.

  ***

  Nerva winced as a trooper applied more sealant to his side. It was a nasty wound, and numbing agents were at work to reduce the pain.

  He’d opted to forgo the painkillers to stay alert.

  Major Duvall was in overall control. Loa was a blue dot on its way through Center City to the combat shuttles that were now punching through the angry Masoul Actual clouds for Fearless and Reclaimer.

  Nerva scanned through his various views, NIDenise opening new screens for him as he thought of them. It was hard to oversee a battle even with the aid of an NIAI; without, it was easy to miss something.

  All of the troopers were pushing hard.

  Powered armor held back from the leading troopers’ lines and were using unconventional means to surprise the Chosen and put fire into their groupings.

  Chosen, but they were bully boys, not professional soldiers. They couldn’t see, they hadn’t slept in at least a day, the air was getting thin, and most of the leadership had been ripped apart by the grenades along the Chosen frontlines.

  The resistance fighters ambushed them and cut off supplies. More than one group of Chosen had fired on another thinking they were resistance fighters, or thinking that they were being fired on by them.

  Communication was done by yelling, so few actually knew that the powered armor was fighting with the EMF.

  A few even cheered as the powered armor came tumbling through walls or racing out of corridors to meet them.

  Wherever the powered armor appeared, enemy dots started disappearing.

  “Stairwell Echo cleared and secured, ready to move forces down to the next floor,” Captain Ortiz said in Nerva’s ear.

  “Understood, move up. I’m pulling your troopers for their secondary mission,” Nerva warned.

  A green light showed on Nerva’s HUD; Ortiz had already changed channels to talk to his people and pass on Nerva’s orders.

  Other units continued to push across the level.

  “Alright, so what can we expect Harper to do?” Nerva asked over his speakers, looking to the powered armor standing off to the side. A simple eye had been painted on its front.

  Nerva had never met the man, or heard his name; none of that was sent in the communications.

  Haas and the others vouched for the man, and he seemed to genuinely care for the troopers and combat shuttle crew that had worked with him for nearly a year.

  Right now, Nerva wanted to know what way the leader of this enemy might jump and be ready to cut any initiative off at the knees.

  “That is a good question. Harper is a good leader, good at getting people to do what he wants. Though I’ve thought for a long time that people were just using him as a puppet from somewhere. When I saw him in the command center six hours ago, he looked scared. He was a dog without a leash,” the man said before pausing to think.

  “He will try to lead his people; he will order everyone to attack, might even use his remaining educators to motivate people. Though the one thing you can rely on is that Harper is a puppet; he isn’t any kind of tactical genius. That was why I was given command of the Gas Planet expedition. I knew how Shipping Station was laid out, and I got myself into the role of advisor for all things military. I’m no trooper. Harper will react like a man that’s in over his head, but will pass out orders rather than sit back,” the man finished.

  “Would the ministry like him in custody, or do they want us to secure Masoul as fast as possible?” Nerva looked to the man.

  He’d had Nivad Selvra’s ear for the last thirty years, something that Nerva didn’t think another person might have.

  “Capture would be for the best. If that is not possible, killing him without hitting his chest would suffice. The information on his implants would be invaluable,” the man said.

  “What would you advocate, smash and grab to get him, or keep grinding the enemy?” Nerva asked, looking right at the powered armor.

  “Smash and grab. Harmony is leader-centric, at least here on Masoul. Harper is the spider at the center. Pull him, and people will start falling apart,” the man said.

  “I’ll order the Triple-Twos to grab him if they can. Once they have him, we’re going to blow all access to the lower levels.” Nerva got to his feet, growling at the pain that still persisted. “I think it’s time I talked to the resistance; they’re going to need to pull their people back, and we need to use their tunnels to the other towers,” Nerva said. His protection detail and the man with an eye on his powered armor followed as he made his way to a corner housing unit where four resistance fighters were standing.

  They didn’t look happy to be sitting there, but they perked up as Nerva got close.

  Their eyes went wide seeing the damage to his side, but quickly moved to Nerva’s as he talked.

  “I need a message sent to Madam Song. We’re going to try and grab Harper. No matter if we do or not, we’re going to blow the stairs and other accesses to the lower floors. My plan is to leave a group here to kill any Chosen that make it up. The rest are going to move to adjoining towers to assist our troopers there. I suggest that she pull back her forces as well. Also, we’re going to need guides to use your tunnels and come out into the fighting,” Nerva said.

  “Daz, run to Madam and pass on the message. Tell her I will stay with the major,” one of the resistance members said, standing. Daz turned and ran through the housing unit, disappearing into one of the bedrooms.

  “Roule and I will act as guides for now; more will come once word reaches Madam,” the leader said.

  “What’s your name?” Nerva asked.

  “Hock, sir,” the man said.

  “Hock, I’m going to need to know where my troopers should go to get out of here and head towards towers”—Nerva checked his HUD for the worst fighting— “four, five, seven, nine, and fourteen.”

  “Do you have a map? I just know the tunnels by memory, so it will be a little hard to put into words, but I can think of a few routes,” Hock said.

  Chapter 46

  Metal City

  Osdal Actual, Osdal System

  6/3242

  Guy Castillo was still a large man from his time working across Metal City.

  Anti-aging treatments kept him looking like a middle-aged man, when truly he was passing the century mark.

  He was a well-known face with the population, the ‘people’s CEO.’ He had worked himself up to his position from the ground floor.

  It had been hard work, but he’d done it.

  Along every step of the way, he had been beset on all sides by CEOs that didn’t want him to climb up their ladder.

  With Harmony, that had changed. Harmony had passed through the lower ranks of workers in Osdal. Castillo had been busted down to department manager again.

  He had kept a smile on his face and looked after those around him, but in the quiet of his home, he’d cried, his dreams falling apart in his hands.

  Then a messenger from Harmony had come to him. They had talked about the CEOs, the corruption that Castillo knew only too much about.

  The messenger, Fah Tsiklauri and Castillo had become friends. Castillo listened to Tsik, scared that what he was proposing would constitute a religion and serve to destabilize the planet and the workforce.

  He knew it was, but he didn’t want to admit it, as he and Tsik worked the lines together and talked. Talked in the way that few do outside of the nights they’ve stayed awake too long, had too many beers, and glanced up at the stars. Their thoughts of what lay outside them turning into thoughts of what lay inside.

  Castillo wanted there to be a future for his three kids. Their mother had di
ed in a work accident, the CEOs paying out a paltry fee and downgrading Castillo’s home, since he no longer warranted his larger housing unit as his financial income was reduced.

  Then someone cooked up something to get Castillo struck down. He remembered when he’d stepped into the fifth-tier chief of operations’ office.

  There had been a group of them there, all watching and laughing at his attempts to bargain with them. They paraded the evidence against him, knowing it was all faked and that all he could do was accept his charges.

  They didn’t let him out of the office for two hours, laughing at his misery.

  Tsik had found him getting raging drunk. Tsik had made sure he was safe and carried him home.

  Even drunk, Castillo remembered his question.

  “So why do you follow Harmony? They’ll get you killed for being a religion,” Castillo had said. He’d never talked about it being a religion, but it was, it was a new faith-based system.

  “Harmony isn’t a religion, it’s an idea. The idea that something can be better than this,” Tsik had said, and he believed it. That poor bastard believed it.

  Castillo, imbued with that knowledge, had started asking more about Harmony. He had seen the misery the CEOs brought and he knew there couldn’t be anything worse.

  Castillo had been brought into Harmony, and they’d smiled. They had been happy. They were doing something to change their lives for the better.

  They had been careful, staying to the shadows and growing through Osdal’s structure.

  They had never attacked the CEOs; they’d played their game of secrets, deals, and blackmail.

  Castillo had risen to the position of a second-tier CEO; he helped to make people’s lives better, and it worked.

  The CEOs grumbled and plotted, but it worked for the higher ones; the second tier and lower didn’t have voting rights, and didn’t matter.

  Then Castillo had found out about Metal City’s CEO and the fund he had been keeping from the Osdal partnership. He hadn’t reported it like he would have before; instead, he passed the information to Tsik.