Masoul (Harmony War Series Book 2)

by Michael Chatfield

  That was when he’d met Luke. Luke wasn’t like Tsik; his eyes didn’t glow with the possibilities that Harmony could bring to Osdal. His eyes smoldered with anger and rage.

  Tsik was the billboard, and Luke was the fine print of Harmony.

  Osdal was controlled by Harmony. The workers looked to Harmony, who quietly blackmailed CEOs using their funds to make the people’s lives better.

  Harmony gangs had formed but kept to the shadows, and they enforced Harmony’s rules. They weren’t terrible people; they were looking out for one another. Another seventy years and two of Castillo’s kids were Chosen leaders, while the other stayed working. Of them all, Castillo was proudest of the one that still worked. She did her job, her kids staying away from the gangs and their grandfather.

  Their uncle and aunt sat back, fed by the money of the CEOs. Their care had turned from looking out for the people to terrorizing them. No one was there to stop them, and boredom and the belief that they were right were powerful agents of change.

  “Either you die young, or live long enough to become the thing you hate the most,” Castillo said, turning away from his office’s window.

  Harmony had been gearing up for their war against the EMF. Now it looked like it had come to Masoul at last.

  He glanced at the feeds playing across his office’s view screen and the one in his living room beyond it that the Harmony personnel were recording. Thousands of people were dying, and they sat there watching their enemy, trying to find weaknesses and seeing how their weapons worked.

  They weren’t out there making people’s lives better; they were preparing for war.

  Tsik had kept telling Castillo to be patient. Once the war was over, then the Chosen could lay down their weapons and once again help others through labor instead of bloodshed.

  They might be laying down their lives if the EMF came; a bit of relaxation was good for them.

  All of Tsik’s platitudes filled his mind and all of them fell flat.

  The system wasn’t better; Castillo had been naïve. He saw the light dimming in Tsik’s eyes and knew of the flask he carried now. Castillo opened the collar of his suit and drank his beer.

  Luke grabbed a beer from the office’s fridge, dragging a seat to the side so he could see the view screen in Castillo’s office.

  “We’ve given up hope of getting anything from Harper,” Luke said, drinking from his beer. Castillo hid a wince. Harper had been a great guy; he was nice, happy, a dreamer, just like Tsik. Just like Tsik, he’d convinced others to join Harmony, and now Masoul Actual had two carriers of troopers crawling all over them.

  “Looks like the resistance did a number on them. Haven’t seen anything on the videos about the heavy guns, grenades, or the powered armor.” Luke pursed his lips, not pleased.

  “Isn’t that good? Doesn’t it mean Nivad is too scared to show their effectiveness?” Castillo said. Luke looked to Castillo in thought.

  “I hope so, but from the videos, it looks like the trooper slaves are still advancing, especially with those grenades going off across the Chosen lines. I don’t know how those fucks did it, but it looks like Masoul will fall after all. If not for those grenades…” Luke looked back to the view screen, taking a drink.

  Castillo followed his lead.

  “What has the council said?” Castillo asked. He knew of the operations on Osdal, but the operations going on in the other systems were Luke and Tsik’s field. They were Harmony’s conduit of information to Osdal.

  “They know that we can’t keep the lid on our actions much longer. We planned for this. The Chosen are ready to fight and eager to do so. Already, there have been incidents in other systems. It won’t be long until all of the systems are fighting against Earth Military Forces’ troopers.” Luke sounded almost excited.

  Castillo wanted to curl up and hide from it all, but he’d never been able to back down from a fight. He would look to help the people of Osdal as much as possible. He would not shirk that duty, no matter what.

  He took a long drag of his beer as troopers cut down more Chosen.

  Chapter 47

  Landing City

  Masoul Actual, Masoul System

  6/3242

  Jerome tried to not think of the panicked screams of terror those cheers had turned to as repulsors and bandoleers of grenades were tossed into Chosen’s groups.

  Tyler was ahead. Alexis was drugged up and back at an aid station.

  “Contact!” Tyler said, firing a burst.

  Off to Tyler’s left, Holm did the same, tracers crashing into the Chosen’s lines.

  Jerome and Mark’s sections ran into the walls, quickly coming out behind the enforcers. They came out in their midst.

  Arms that were capable of denting armor swiped fragile humans, sending them spinning or dropping them to the floor.

  A repulsor fired here and there as Tyler, Holm, their sections, Haas, and Zukic rushed up on the scene.

  “Move it!” Haas said. Jerome and Mark’s sections followed them, new blood spattering their armor.

  Now was not the time to stand around.

  Fire came from multiple corridors. Tyler and Holm’s sections slid to a stop, sparks coming from the floor as their metal suits skidded. They fired as Jerome and Mark ran past with their sections.

  “Clear!” Kojo called out.

  “Same,” Ko said.

  Tyler and Holm’s section peeled away from their firefight and caught up with the rear of the platoon.

  Only the subjectively low ceiling and the tight turns they needed to take kept the powered armor’s speed down.

  They turned, and Jerome slid as his legs looked to get purchase. The rest of the platoon followed, skating more than running.

  Only Bairamov went through the wall they were turning in front of.

  He came back out in a spray of dust and plaster panels.

  “Fucking detours,” he said.

  “Cut the pace. Coming up on the command center,” Haas said.

  The platoon slowed and crashed through a new office unit.

  Their pace stopped as Zukic pulled a ring of murder hole charges from his shoulder. Each section had one person wearing them.

  They linked them together and made a circle twenty feet wide.

  “Sections one and three, take a knee; two and four, stand in behind, just like we talked about,” Haas said as Zukic checked the ring of explosives.

  Jerome and Mark’s sections took a knee, forming a circle. Holm and Tyler stood behind them, creating an old-as-fuck-looking firing line.

  I can’t believe people just walked into battle wearing a big fucking ‘shoot me’ jacket and fired at their opponents like it was some kind of goddamn lottery whether or not you survive.

  Yu, Young, and Bobbie had stayed with them. Jerome glanced at their signs on his HUD. They could have left for the carriers and been hauling ammunition and wounded, no one would have said anything.

  Instead, they had stayed down with the Triple-Twos. That took balls, really big fucking balls.

  “Good,” Zukic said, nestling next to Jerome and holding his repulsor out.

  “Let’s go ruin their fucking day, Zukic,” Haas said.

  The murder hole charges went off, the floor shook, and then everyone dropped.

  Jerome felt his stomach lurch for the few seconds they fell. Before they had hit the floor, people were firing.

  Jerome saw Harper looking from his chair with wide, shocked eyes.

  He jumped, Zukic following him.

  Jerome’s hand grabbed Harper’s janitor coveralls. This time they were actually dirty, and his usually kempt hair was a mess.

  Jerome didn’t fuck about; he broke the man’s hands and legs without hesitation. He looked up, the flashes of weapons fire disappearing as powered armor moved to secure the room.

  Harper was crying and screaming in pain.

  Fucking rough day, man.

  “Fuck, dude,” Zukic said, his helmet tilting from Jerome to Harper. />
  “Can’t fucking run now,” Jerome said.

  “No shit,” Zukic said, sighing, but Jerome sensed a laugh under it.

  Repulsors fired, getting others in the room.

  Others were opening their hands and putting data cards into computer slots.

  “Five minutes!” Holm announced.

  “Alright, section two, cover the entrance. Three, you’ve got the prisoner; one secures the floor above. Four, I want you to prep an exit for us. We’re gone in five minutes,” Haas said. People were moving before he’d finished giving orders.

  Mark and his section leaped through the rough hole in the ceiling.

  Any threats were dead in the command center.

  Jerome got off of Harper. He looked okay, other than the broken limbs and the screaming, and the crying, and—okay, he didn’t look good, he looked like shit, but fuck, he was alive.

  It’s the small things that count, Jerome thought, hooking his repulsor and opening his right gauntlet. He opened a medical pouch that he’d grabbed from the techs.

  He pulled out a needle and jabbed it into Harper; the crying and screaming stopped as Harper slumped into unconsciousness.

  “Contact!” Mark called, repulsors firing on the floor above.

  Ko screamed as a heavy machine gun went off.

  He went to red, and someone pushed him down through the hole in the ceiling.

  Dooks caught him before he landed.

  Jerome moved to him. Ko had his shoulder and left side chewed up. He was in a bad way; his lungs looked to be right fucked up. Jerome stuck him with as many drugs as he knew, which knocked him out, and drained a bottle of sealant in the various bullet holes.

  Jerome saw Mark moving on his HUD. Then there was a large explosion. A new heavy machine gun went off; Mark grunted and his indicator went red.

  Shortly after, the second heavy machine gun stopped shooting.

  “Good!” Holm said.

  “Let’s go!” Haas said. One section fell from the roof, Mark heavily so; he had wounds in his stomach that could turn bad quickly.

  Heavy machine guns opened up on the main door. Domo and Obe’s markers went black, tracers dancing inside their armor.

  Breaching charges that had been rigged up on a wall went up in a spray of cermite dust. Holm’s section crashed through the remaining wall as tracers continued to rip through the command center.

  Sasaki let out a cry but got free of the fire.

  Jerome threw Harper on his back and followed Holm’s section out; the other sections followed, firing at the doorways which were coming apart as the door sprouted more holes and rounds ripped through the cermite hallways.

  Then the section was in housing units, then out in a cafeteria. Weapons fired around Jerome and contacts blossomed; more heavy weapons fired.

  Ma screamed, then his cries died mid-breath.

  “Fuck!” Tyler growled as Ma’s black marker stayed in their wake.

  Then they were back in housing units and on a landing.

  Holm’s section, and Haas ahead of Jerome, used their limbs to clear a bloody path.

  Up they went. Another heavy cannon ripped into a doorway.

  Dooks let out a grunt.

  “Grenade out!” Ali yelled. Jerome saw the bandoleer go through the doorway.

  It went off, the Chosen’s screams reaching Jerome’s ears. No one in the platoon even slowed as they raced upstairs.

  They found the tail end of a new Chosen offensive; it was nothing like earlier attempts. Repulsors ripped through Chosen at close quarters, and Holm led his section through the Chosen, kicking, swiping, and running upwards.

  By the time Jerome got to the Chosen, not one Chosen was left alive on the stairs.

  It was a nerve-wracking five minutes before they emerged onto the trooper-held floor. It felt like a fucking eternity.

  “Blow the access points,” Nerva said as soon as they were all clear.

  Fire illuminated the walls, the floor shaking as dust shot out of the stairwell. Only broken metal and a large hole remained.

  Jerome panted, adrenaline making his mouth taste metallic and dry. He deposited Harper on the floor; the man looked alive, at least.

  Jerome opened his helmet. Already, troopers were looking to the wounded. Jerome opened up his shell so that he was sitting in his powered armor. He grabbed a pack of cigarettes from his pocket, put one to his lips, and lit it.

  The air was thin and it was hard to breathe, but still he puffed on that cigarette.

  “Can I bum a cigarette?” Zukic asked, sitting down next to Jerome and opening his armor up.

  Jerome passed the pack and lighter over.

  The floor smelled fucking terrible, not even the cigarette could hide it.

  He didn’t get long to think about it.

  “Thanks,” Zukic said, puffing out smoke as Jerome tucked it all away.

  “No worries, dude,” Jerome said. They weren’t a warrant or sergeant at that moment, they were just two troopers sharing a smoke together.

  “Alright, wounded Triple-Twos, you’re to get sorted out as soon as possible. Ko’s heading for the shuttles now,” Haas said.

  The man was on a stretcher, getting a medic and troopers. As they ran, the medic worked on Ko.

  “Jerome, your section is taking Harper up to the landing pads. The rest of you make your way to the upper levels. More air, and we’re getting a bit of a break. It’s not going to be long; Nerva is just figuring out how to use us best, and we’ve still got about eight hours of juice left,” Haas said. “Alright, let’s go!” Haas sounded tired, but his people listened.

  Some of the Triple-Twos needed help walking, but they passed through the lines. He puffed at the cigarette in the corner of his mouth and let out a stream of smoke behind him.

  Chapter 48

  Tower

  Earth, Sol System

  6/3242

  Nivad looked like he hadn’t slept in weeks; in the end, it had been five days. Even with that, he looked happy, honest-to-God happy.

  “It’s confirmed?” he asked as Dalia finished her report. He knew that it had been, or else she wouldn’t have brought it to him.

  But it still feels good to hear, he admitted to himself in the privacy of his own mind.

  She smiled slightly, obviously feeling the same way as she exhaled the cigarette smoke, looking to her surface.

  “Our top agent has been recovered aboard the carrier Reclaimer. The operative known as Harper was also recovered alive. We have information from the secondary command center, data from the research and development labs, and a copy of information from the primary command center. We turned a nineteen percent profit. The Masoul partnership is working to meet their quota for the next freighters coming up. The Trasys company has agreed to our negotiated price for their recovered freighter. Bonuses will be distributed as such.”

  “Shipping Station is expected to be up and running in four months,” she continued, holding the cigarette to her lips and taking a drag.

  Nivad did the same and looked at his view screens.

  “Good, very good. Express my gratitude to our agent, and make sure that they are suitably recompensed. Take into consideration that I will be telling them to remain with Reclaimer to act as a subject matter expert,” Nivad said.

  “Yes, sir,” she said, making a note on her surface.

  Nivad luxuriated in the feeling of victory, looking out over Mega City’s glass, cermite, and polished metal faces. This was the center of his power; it was immense and staggering. Few if any had wielded the power he now held. Other thoughts tried to sneak in as he smoked and looked over his empire.

  The cigarette burned to a stub and he put it in his ashtray. His face tightened into serious lines as he let the thoughts he’d held at bay dance in his mind.

  “What about the operation with Osdal and Harmony?” Nivad asked.

  Dalia’s face soured and her own face tightened.

  “Osdal is showing its hands; operatives th
at have inserted themselves into lower standings are seeing the corruption. The top CEOs seem to be working with Harmony, or at least supporting them. They already have Chosen across the planet and system. It won’t be a Masoul; there is little to no resistance. If that will hold true for the twenty-three years it will take Reclaimer and our other carriers to reach the system…” she shrugged.

  “And Harmony is using the broadcasts?” he asked.

  “We haven’t confirmed it yet, but four systems including Osdal showed similar viewing behavior,” she said, looking like she had a bad taste in her mouth. “It’s still unconfirmed,” she added; it was clear she didn’t like how it wasn’t concrete.

  Yet we both know that it adds up. We’ve been in this business too long to not trust our gut instinct, Nivad thought.

  “Which ones?” The question was light, belying the importance of the information.

  “Other than Osdal, Mintran, Fernix, and Housapel showed similar viewing behavior. The users were logged and regional heads are looking into it. They haven’t figured out that we think Harmony is at work there,” Dalia said.

  Nivad picked up on how she said ‘is’ instead of ‘may be’, or ‘could possibly be.’

  “Move the limbo carriers into position without raising alarms or suspicions,” he said.

  She didn’t try to argue, simply nodded. The amount of credits it would take to get those carriers moved, and the cost to wake up all those troopers, was more than some companies made in a decade.

  I have a feeling that we’ll be needing only too many of them soon. This war has just started. Nivad stood; it was time he got a shower and some sleep. The next round wouldn’t be for another twenty-four years.

  Chapter 49

  EMFC Reclaimer

  Masoul Actual, Masoul System

  7/3242

  Jerome looked around the room. None of the Triple-Twos wanted to be stuck in a briefing room, but they were.

  As soon as their powered armor was on its last hour of charge, they’d been ordered back to Reclaimer.

  The armorers were going over the powered armor as soon as they were out of it.