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

              The ride passed quickly as they hit atmosphere. The shuttle bucked and shook, but after an actual combat drop, this was nothing.

              Jerome could barely keep his eyes open. The shuttles movements lulled him to sleep. Mark sat back in his chair, and looked at the other side of the shuttle with an almost bored expression.

              Alexis looked skeptical. Tyler squeezed her hand, and she gave him a small tight smile and a squeeze back as the shuttle’s ride smoothed out.

              Tyler stowed his data slate as Mark pulled out his pistol and checked it. He raised his large arms, and checked that his blades were still there with a few movements. Tyler pressed his arms to his sides to do his own check. He didn’t want to alert Alexis.

              “Coming down on the Citadel. We thank you for travelling
Reclaimer
shuttle services, and hope you have a good leave,” the pilot said. His tone wasn’t as fake as Tyler thought it might be.

              The shuttle’s engines billowed as it came to a halt. There was a bouncing sensation, as legs took the shuttle’s weight. The cargo master checked the airlock as people unhooked their harnesses.

              The cargo master declared the airlock’s seal good, and the shuttle disgorged anxious and bored people in a rush.

              Mark let out a small hiss of a laugh.

              “Back once again,” he said, as he looked at the same room that they came up the day they became troopers, and were loaded on shuttles for
Reclaimer
.

              Now veterans filled the room instead of boots, all moving with purpose towards the lifts that shot downward.

              They got to the nearest lift, waiting a few minutes for it to fill before it shot down. They got off on a different floor than the one they entered so long ago.

              People walked up to a desk, putting the identification chip in their wrists on the receiver. They waited a few moments before boxes were shoved out towards them. The boxes contained the belongings that they stored.

              .

              Mark and Tyler donned their dusters, the large coats feeling odd on their wider shoulders. They actually filled them, rather than disappearing into them.

              Jerome and Alexis just grabbed their scarves and breathers.

              “I see why people bring their helmets down now,” Tyler said, putting on the ill-fitting mask and goggles. They didn’t fit the best, but if they worked for eighteen years, they would work for a few months.

              “Let’s go see how westerly is doing,” Mark said, pushing onwards. Jerome walked with him as Tyler and Alexis followed.

              It didn’t look like it changed at all in Mega-City. The buildings were still pristine, traffic still moved at a frantic pace overhead, and the train was pouring off people who just reached their sign-up date.

              Tyler looked at them with new eyes, the same kind of eyes that he was subjected to when he started as part of the EMF. He wasn’t trying to be mean. He was trying to figure out if they were going to be an asset or liability – if it was worth having them beside him in a fire-fight, or get as far away from them as possible and be ready to take their position.

              They got to the train. They didn’t have to wait long before there was a train going out to the rest of Earth.

              They found a secluded corner of the train. No one looked to approach them. Most of them had an almost reverent look in their eyes as they turned to their friends, talked behind their hands, and tried to hide their pointing while failing badly.

              “So what are we going to do with the ten mil if your gang isn’t around?” Jerome said with a heavy voice. Tyler felt shock at the suddenness of Jerome’s words, and confusion about why the hell he was talking about ten mil. He looked to Mark in alarm.

              Mark’s back tensed with Jerome’s words, but didn’t put him in his place as he would have done with the majority of others.

              “Then we’re going to have to go with just setting up the JV corporation, and then layer everything so far back that they don’t realize we’re in the EMF,” Mark said as his shoulders relaxed, hoping that any possible crisis was averted.

              “What the hell is this ten mil about?” Tyler asked.

              “You didn’t tell him yet?”

              “I was going to, but stuff came up and there were too many ears about,” Mark said, opening his hands and shrugging in apology.

              “What your brother didn’t tell you is that we got ten million for saving that CEO’s life. Your brother is a decent trader and liar. Pullo and Gupta got 2.5 million credits, as did we, with them not here anymore,” Jerome paused, his jaw working to cut back emotions before he continued. “Your brother and I now have five million apiece. I’ve thrown my lot in with his, and we’re going to see if we can’t set up something on Earth for us to retire to. If any of us survive the EMF, then we get a part of the business,” Jerome said, as Tyler looked between him and his brother with shock.

              He couldn’t wrap his head around the amount of money that they were talking about. They all made nearly a hundred thousand credits on their tour. That kind of money was enough for families to live decent lives for at least a decade. With ten million, they could buy a whole damned sector.

              “What business are you talking about?” Alexis asked, recovering faster than Tyler.

              “Hauling, specifically hauling through Sol, but Mark here wants to get into long-distance hauling, and it makes sense when looking at how we’re going to be gone for so long. Having a bunch of independents working for us, and bringing in coin, is better than having a bunch of contracts all the time and no one there to sign off on them for some mysterious reason,” Jerome assented.

              “Plus, those independents are going to get the best damned rate that they can find,” Mark said, slapping his knee to emphasize the point.

              “Yeah, but their ability to take a little extra off the top is a bit high in my opinion,” Jerome said. The two of them were starting an ongoing argument.

              “You have ten million credits?” Mark asked.

              “And some change. We made the fund with Gupta and Pullo, so all their savings defaulted into the account when they died - including incoming pay,” Jerome said.

              “Well that is a hell of a lot of money to start up a just-in-case fund,” Tyler said.

              “What about the seeds then? Why did you get those?” Alexis asked.

              Mark looked to Tyler who went red.

              “I guess you were going to find out anyway, but they’re insurance. We give those to the gardens, and we get them backing us. They’re more powerful than any gang, and if they think about going against us, then we threaten to tell the corporations where the seeds and information came from,’’ Mark said.

              She made a noise, indicating that she was rather impressed with the scheming that Mark and Jerome were doing already.

              For the rest of the journey, they talked about how they were going to distribute the information to the gardeners, what to charge, and how they would sell the seeds as well.

              They gamed through most scenarios by the time they reached Westerly sector.  They just needed to try it out on some real gardeners.

              Everyone pulled their scarves on, and made sure that their eye and mouth protection was good before they went into the howling winds of Earth.

              They walked in a slightly bent line, so it looked more like an arrow as they moved through the streets.

              The buildings were the same. But the people were all different as they passed. The people stared at them as they went by. Troopers were a rare sight, and seeing four of them – two wearing dusters – were a much stranger sight.

              They kept going. Mark and Tyler knew the sector like the back of their hand, and all the major streets were open with people moving back and forth in a mass. Even the rushed people from the Slums moved out of the troopers’ way, as they passed through on the way to W3C’s tower.

              “Looks like the boss was right about it still being here when we came back,” Tyler said.

              The gates were different, and armor panels looked uniform instead of the thrown-together look they had before.W3C was painted across the main gate in black paint, daring anyone to defy it.

              Mark went to the door and knocked on it. Someone poked their head over the side.

              “Who the fuck are you?” they asked.

              “I’m fucking Mark Victor. Go and tell the boss that he owes me a beer,” Mark yelled back.

              The questioner seemed to re-think yelling at a pissed-off trooper again, and Mark could hear a runner going over the main gate’s metal framework.

              Tyler was beginning to wonder if the boss was even still alive when the main gate started opening.

              Mark walked in first, his arm close to his pistol. Everyone else’s hands were suspiciously close to their weapons as well.

              They went through the kill-corridor and were met by a ground of twelve armed W3C bodyguards.

              “We’re going to have to take your weapons before you see the boss,” one of them said. His tone had all the confidence of a seventeen year-old, who thought the world only existed so he could flee it through the EMF.

              “We’re troopers. We don’t answer to anyone but the EMF now. So let’s be about going up to his office. He won’t be happy if you kept us waiting,” Mark said, actively resting his hand on his holster.

              The seventeen-year-old made a jerky motion with their head, and the bodyguards fell in around them and escorted them to the elevators. Inside the tower, it looked better than ever. Plus, it seemed to have air conditioning and some of those expensive electrostatic veils that kept the dust at bay.

              Different faces moved through familiar hallways.

              Tyler saw the tension in Mark’s back, as he felt his own face harden into impassable lines. He felt Alexis’ eyes on him and turned to see her. Her face was hard, but she gave him a reassuring glimmer of a smile. Their eyes darted apart as they continued to look at the gang members who were looking at them with curiosity. The gang members were assessing if they were who they said they were, and how much of a threat they presented.

              A number of the bodyguards rested at the back of the elevator. The rest stayed on the first floor as the doors quickly shut behind Tyler’s party, and they rode the elevator all the way to the top of the tower.

              The doors opened, and they found more guards waiting on the other side.

              They were escorted into the boss’s office. Maps were splayed over the desk, and weapons lay on racks on the wall. The collection grew from when the brothers were last in the room.

              An older looking bald man sat behind that desk, his hardened face melting into a smile.

              “Mark! Tyler!” He stood up and came around the desk. He looked to be about fifty or so. But Tyler recognized the eyes to be those of someone much older, through experience and time.

              “Boss,” Mark said with a grin. He offered his hand to the jubilant bald man with his scarred head.

              The boss swatted the hand away and brought Mark into a hug. He was about a foot shorter, but Mark returned the brief gesture.

              He turned, bestowing Tyler with another radiant smile as they too embraced briefly.

              “Ahh, so I see that the rumors before you left were true, Alexis,” Quentin said. His lips pressed together in amusement as his eyes sparkled looking between her and Tyler.

              “Silva, there’s no issue here. Grab them a drink and the good stuff. We have much to talk about,” Quentin said.

              “Yes, sir,” said one of the guards, who was a swarthy and large but not overly tall looking man. He shooed the somewhat stunned guards out of the room.

              “Come, take a seat,” Quentin said, bringing them over to a private room that many important and secret deals took place in.

              They settled in, and Quentin looked to Jerome.

              “Hello, you must be Jerome,” Quentin said as he flashed a smile, holding out his hand.

              “Yes sir,” Jerome said, shaking his hand. “Thanks for looking after them.”

              “They’ve done the same for me on occasion,” Quentin grinned, as Silva returned with a tray of glasses and amber-colored liquid in a bottle.

              Quentin did the honors, pouring generous amounts in each of the glasses.

              “For those lost, may we never forget,” Quentin said, as his eyes darkened and his smile faded. The others in the room raised their glasses, and tapped it together with the surface before they took a generous swig.