Masoul (Harmony War Series Book 2) (19 page)

              He fired the information off to Wen, looking to the crew member.

              “Do you have a hatch to outside?” Mark asked.

              “Why would you need to know that?” They asked, confused.

              “Look here lieutenant! I am here to make sure that you and everyone in this room stays alive, helping instead of accusing and questioning my every move is going to help a lot more than being a useless fuck that would be more useful propping my door open!” Mark barked, he needed these people working with him and not against.

              “Quan, see to their needs,” the Captain told the woman.

              “Yes Captain,” Quan said, obviously not happy with the disrespect.

              “This way,
sergeant,
” the way she said his rank made him doubt this would be the last he heard of this incident.

             
If we get out alive? Fun little saying that. Screwed if I do, and if I don’t it ain’t gonna fucking matter.

              He followed her to the hatch, it was an airlock that looked like a closet with said hatch above.

              “Ko, Niemi, grab some extra grenade mags and make sure Harmony thinks landing near the command deck is a bad fucking idea,” Mark said, picking the two skinniest people.

              “Sarge!” They chorused, pulling extra mags from their bags, swapping out normal box mags and stuffing their pockets before climbing into the air lock. They opened up the hatch, there was no atmosphere to blow out behind them,

              Their sensors served to update Mark’s on the platoon’s net.

              They could see the blossoming balls of Harmony ships coming to meet the EMF’s firepower. They could also see a freighter coming in towards them.

              “Incoming freighter, three o’clock from bow,” Ko said, his and Niemi’s grenade launchers were firing before the second word.

              The grenades ripped holes in the armorless ship and things flew out, like the universes sick parody of a piñata.

              The freighter’s engines fired and they dove away from Ko and Niemi’s fire.

              They were the twosomes first customer, but not the last.

              “Another, eight o’clock,” Ko called out an empty magazine dropping from the hatch as another was slapped in.

              “Looks like they landed,” Niemi said another empty magazine dropping to the floor.

              “Captain, I’m having an issue getting the information out, it looks like General Wai is still getting her officers sorted out,” Neves said, probably forgetting his was on the general channel.

              “I am certain they will be online shortly,” the Captain said in a warning tone.

              “Yes, certainly sir,” Neves said, obviously realizing his mistake. Mark opened up a private channel with the Captain who he found out was called Conti.

              “Sir, I can relay that information to someone that will make sure it’s passed to the troopers to fend off our guests,” Mark said.

              Conti looked to him as if weighing him, that same checking glance that all military types used when looking at the newer people joining their merry band.

              “Very well, do it,” Conti said.

              Mark opened a channel to Nerva, it was a lot shorter than he thought it might be before he was connected.

              “Go,” Nerva said.

              “I have someone here looking to relay all of the locations of the incoming boarders, can’t get the information where it’s needed,” Mark said, knowing Nerva was probably hellishly busy.

              “Finally, send me his private channel I’ll get him sorted out,” Nerva said.

              “Sir,” Mark bit off.

              “And Mark, make sure that bridge stays safe,” Nerva said.

              “On my life sir,” Mark said, surprised by the truth in those words.

              “Good man,” Nerva answered, his voice tight with the weight of command and knowing what he had just commanded Mark, a man he saw as the closest thing to a son, to do.

              “Niemi, what’s going on with that shuttle that touched down?”

              “They’re too depressed for us to get rounds on them…”

              “We have a breach from a shuttle touch down forty meters away,” Neves said into Mark’s helmet, he copied the sound byte and sent it to Wen.

              “...I’d guess that...” Mark’s channel cut back to Niemi’s automatically.

              “They’re inside, check to make sure none of them grew balls and took a walk along the carrier’s surface,” Mark cut her off as he talked to his and Tyler’s section.

              “Yes Sarge,” she replied, climbing up the ladder she was braced against.

              “Ishida, Sun, be ready to take their places and cover them if needed,” Mark said.

              Ko followed Niemi, disappearing from view as Ishida and Sun ran up and started firing on any Harmony ships that came in too close.

              “No sign of the enemy, looks like they’re all inside,” Niemi reported a few minutes later.

              “Good, get back here on the double, Ish, Sun, be ready to get out of their way when they do. You’ll be their number twos if they need it,” Mark said.

              “Got three flights coming in, Twelve, four and five,” Ko growled, giving it the beans with his grenade launcher, magazines dropped and flashes could be seen through the hatch. The lack of sound made it an eerie experience.

              “Shoot that fucker,” Haas said, Mark saw the mini map go from green to blue to show the engaged friendlies. So far only the half-section facing towards the rear of the ship were firing. He knew that would probably change, the number of flights that Tamm predicted to land were now linked to the net. The flight paths headed for the bridge were climbing.

              “Welcome to fucking Masoul,” Dashtund growled, the captain giving a half laugh.

              “Exactly,” Conti said.

             
This is gonna be one hell of a fight,
Mark thought.

Chapter 18

             
Combat Shuttle One-four-nine

             
Gas planet, Masoul System

             
9/3240

              Yu knew that he was going through a rough wake-up.

              He was the pilot and the defacto leader of Combat Shuttle one-four-nine.

              Some idiot must have messed up the drugs because he was all kinds of fucked.

              He shook his head and took a series of needles and put them into the port along his neck.

              The IV inside his suit tapped his vein and his pounding headache subsided.

              He knew he was going to pay for that later, but for right now he needed to be active.

              “Fuck I hate go-go juice,” Yu said, tossing the spent needles into his leg pouch, having them floating around was a bad idea.

              “Yeah, gets you going though,” Young said, looking over her screens to his right as his second.

              They worked through the flight list in a number of minutes as noises came from behind.

              “Good!” Bobbie their gunner and cargo master said, the cargo doors sealing.

              “Flight control, One-Four-Nine good to go,” Yu reported as the last system came up green.

              “Understood, cleared for launch,” Flight control said, sounding harried as they clicked off. The pad they were on descended, taking them to the armored blisters which allowed Combat Shuttles to leave and enter the carrier without opening the flight deck.

              Yu powered out of the blister, red haloes filling their screens already being projected onto their reinforced crystal matrix that made up their screen.

              “Alright Young, find me some targets,” Yu said.

              “Be careful for what you wish for,” Young murmured.

              Friendly contacts appeared from other blisters, coming together into wings as they came up under the carrier, to see Armageddon.

             
Reclaimer
’s sides were a mixture of heavy cannons bellowing and metal storm Defensive turrets twitching into new positions firing millions of rounds into the darkness of space.

              Those impacts showed themselves on the two freighters sides, their thin armor meant to stop meteors warped and blew out. Cannons hammered the civilian ships from both sides,
Reclaimer
and
Fearless
sending armor, atmosphere, and the freighters innards blowing out with every impact.

              “Targets, two million K and closing,” Young said.

              There was no need to bank and curve like Yu was in atmosphere, he simply redirected his engines and blasted towards the incoming contacts, taking in the battle being waged by the carrier and the smaller transports of the Harmony freighters.

              Their tracers struck the carrier’s armored sides, missiles ripping from their launchers to be cut down with metal storm firepower.

              Combat Shuttles formed up their pyramid battle formations without a single order. The Harmony pricks came in fat and happy, their firepower turning to the Combat Shuttles.

              “Evading,” Yu said, over his battle-pyramid’s channel, one of their seconds had set it up.

              The pyramid moved to get out of the way of incoming projectiles, it wasn’t hard, at this range they could see where Harmony’s rounds were going.

              “Amateurs,” Bobbie growled.

              “I’ll take amateurs any day of the week,” Yu said, looking over the display in front of him, anything that was capable of lifting people was doing so, grabbing them from the gas planet and hauling them to the freighters which were crash starting their engines in a panic to get away from the planet.

              As the ships came up from the gravity well they were met with carrier firepower.

              Whoever the Captains were they knew their shit, better to kill a ship filled with combatants instead of one with just a flight crew.

              As the pyramids closed on the ragged line Yu had to start getting fancy with his maneuvers.

              A CS went black on the plot, Yu grunted and danced across the skies, “Young, get me a fix on the fucker that shot three-two down,” Yu said.

              Another shuttle went from green to yellow. The Troopers weren’t the only ones that had got the new display software.

              “Three seconds,” Young said, watching missile targeting.

              “Weapons green and good,” Bobbie said.

              “Barrage of missiles, on my signal,” Dal, the impromptu leader of the pyramid said, “Fire.”

              Missiles rippled from a dozen Combat Shuttles’ wings, accelerating lines tracked them.

              The enemy mish-mash of ships reacted with panic, firing and diving, trying to put themselves behind their fellows, making them take the impact instead.

              Lack of discipline and training for military operations put them at a disadvantage.

              Combat Shuttles were like sovereign land, once they were in space, people could give them suggestions but they were master and commander of themselves. They worked well in groups, like a pack of wolves hunting prey, they were veterans of Sacremon and a handful of other uprisings. They had gone through the new training created in the lower ranks, they were the half that made the cut.

              They knew their shuttles better than their own bodies, a thought many hadn’t believed possible.

              That’s why when they got into range they weren’t just shuttles with guns on them. They were Combat Shuttles, machines of war and death.

              Cannons ripped through the darkness of nothing, following on the heels of the missile barrage. Auto cannons added to the streams, their jobs to pin the enemy into a tight formation.

              It worked, the outer edges were scared and moved in, to only find missiles racing into their forward sections.

              Explosions ripped into the forward ships.

              “Mark!” Dal called, another five tubes loosing their payloads.

              Cannon rounds hit like sledgehammers, they smashed the ships, caving in forward sections and sending others into a spin.

              Atmosphere and broken panels were left in their wake, Auto cannons stitched holes through their enemies thin covering.

              The ship that had taken out Combat Shuttle Three-two was now drifting scrap.