Masoul (Harmony War Series Book 2) (37 page)

              “Fuck! Haven’t had one of these for, hell, years,” Moretti said, taking another good sniff.

              “Alright, the rest of you do as you want. I would suggest that you start looking over the various towers, there is more than one way to get between them. Might be useful for the upcoming battle,” Moretti said, standing and putting the cigar into his own duster, and heading for the kitchen.

              “Alright. Get a fucking shower,” Zukic said, looking at them all with a mildly disgusted face.

              “I’m going to check the connection to the net,” Tyler said, his eyes blanking as he looked to connect to the communications satellite they’d tied into the planet’s communications systems. It allowed them to connect to Reclaimer where the higher-ups would be looking over their reports.

              People hustled into the shower, and clothes were tossed in the cleaner.

              Jerome looked around the place, claiming a room and dropping his duffel in it.

              He pulled out magazines and weapons, laying them around the place and dragging out clothes due for a washing.

              Moretti was munching on a food replacement bar when Jerome came out, looked over the food cabinets, grabbed a food bar, and got stuck in.

              Jerome saw that Moretti was staring into the rooms, and watching the girls going into the shower.

              “See something you like?” Jerome asked.

              “Haven’t seen women that I’m attracted to in a
very
long time. The video versions can only sustain a man for so long,” Moretti said, glancing to Jerome.

              He’d been in the middle of the shit for too long to care what others thought. Jerome could appreciate that and it wasn’t like he was guardian for any of the girls. What they did was up to them, if they beat the hell out of Moretti for unwanted advances,
then
he’d get involved.

              Mark hadn’t had time to get a shower. Instead he’d stripped down, thrown some water on himself, towelled off and thrown on a shirt that didn’t smell terrible.

              He walked ahead of Moretti and Haas as people cleared out of the way, Moretti returning salutes as they went.

              They reached barricades that had been built into the floor and walls of the corridor, and weaved their way through, passing other enforcers. Mark nodded to a few here and there, and got to the main door where two large enforcers stood, both bigger than Mark in terms of mass and height, but not muscle.

              Upon seeing Moretti, they opened the doors for them and saluted.

              Moretti returned the gesture as they walked into the command center.

              To the right there were screens of all kinds and a holographic representation of Shipping Station. To the left were conference tables with surfaces and projectors. People’s faces were illuminated by the lights of their consoles as people brought them food and water, or they whispered in short terse words.

              Even with so much action going on the place was quiet, as if no one wanted to raise their voice.

              Servers and computers hummed with fans and coolant.

              At the rear of the room, chairs sat in front of an array of screens, with banks of computers in rows, and a command chair behind them.

              An unassuming man stepped up from the chair, and Moretti moved past Mark to greet the man.

              The man wore simple janitor’s coveralls and projected an air of confidence around him. If he hadn’t been in the command seat with Moretti walking towards him Mark wouldn’t have thought him important.

              Moretti stopped and saluted the other man, who returned it, smiling at Moretti like a proud father.

              “Come, Moretti, let us talk somewhere else so we don’t bother these hard working people,” the man said, his voice raised so that the others in the large room could hear him.

              Mark saw smiles appear and backs straightened as they worked harder.

              Between the tiered area and the part with the hologram to the right there was a corridor guarded by enforcers.

              “Wait here, you two,” Moretti said to Mark and Haas as he walked past the other enforcers, the man who could only be Harper leading the way.

              “For Harmony’s sake,” Haas said, both of them saluting Harmony-style.

              Mark’s implants had been recording the entire time, and as he walked back into the room looking around at the computers, Haas joined him.

              “Didn’t think I’d be doing this when I joined up,” Mark said.

              “Makes two of us. This place is well organized,” Haas said, both of them careful not to talk about the EMF or trooper lifestyle.

              “You see those newer rifles?” Haas asked.

              “Look more like proper heavy machine guns to me,” Mark said.

              “Yeah,” Haas said, his voice tight. Mark had only seen one or two on their walk down, but they could possibly breach a trooper’s armor if troopers charged them.

              “That’s not the only trick Harper has for those trooper fucks,” an enforcer that had overheard them speaking said, interjecting himself into the conversation.

              “Really? Those things look impressive as hell,” Haas said.

              Mark stopped himself from twitching his triceps.,Killing the guy here would only complicate things.

              “Yeah, but look.” The man pulled up his long-sleeved shirt showing a heavy plate of armor underneath.

              “Damn, where the hell did you get that from?” Haas said, tapping the plate. It sounded heavy and the straps holding it to the man weren’t light duty.

              “Special order, you can probably get them too being Mr. Moretti’s enforcers,” the man said proudly, pulling his shirt down.

              “Have to look into that,” Haas said, looking at Mark.

              “Yeah, would be pretty sweet to have armor, though how do you know those EMF guns won’t cut through them?” Mark asked.

              “We’ve been shooting these things for years. Just took time to mass produce. Guess you don’t get much central talk from where you are?” the guy said.

              “Nah, Tower Eights’ boring as fuck man - thing’s practically deserted after it got converted into a factory,” Mark shrugged, he’d made sure to memorize Tower Eight. If anyone had any interest in his background he had it covered.

              “Yeah, I hear that, got a cousin that moved out, he’s an educator,” the man said, actually looking proud of the fact.

              “Damn, he must know how to cut up a meat ration,” Mark said, with a forced grin.

              “You would
not
believe it,” the man laughed.

              Haas and Mark joined in.

              The man leaned in, looking around to make sure no one was watching or listening.

              “I heard that they’re building powered armor,” he said.

              “Powered armor, how’s that possible?” Haas said, looking around as well.

              “Harmony connects us all, we are but one small part of Harmony. Here we might learn the lessons to grow Harmony stronger,” the man said.

              “For the sake of Harmony,” Haas said, nodding, Mark couldn’t bring himself to say those words.

             
If these mother fuckers have powered armor, then this is a whole new ball game,
Mark thought.

              Powered armor had only been used on Earth in the unification wars back when nations could actually get weapons smuggled in.

              It carried more armor, weapons, and ammunition than any normal soldier could. They were hellish weapons that could turn anyone into a destructive force.

              Since Earth had been unified, power armor was seen as a luxury, its expense outweighing its use in peaceful times. With the settling of the colonies, the companies did not want weapons in the hands of colonists, so when colonists rebelled they had to make their own. It was rare for them to get past making rifles and some meager kind of armor.

              The EMF was trained to take down a rabble with pop guns and no armor.

              Already the man had showed that they were past crappy rifles and insubstantial armor. That was going to make things difficult. If what the man said was true, then this battle was going from difficult to terrible.

              “Sign me up, if there’s ever trials. I’d love to get my hands on a real set of powered armor,” Mark said.

              “Sure thing, man,” the big guy said, nodding to him.

              “Never got your name?” he said, holding his hand out.

              “Mark,” Mark said, taking the offered hand.

              “Jonas,” Haas said, using his first name, and shaking the man’s hand.

              “I’m Tony, happy to meet you two. If any openings come round I’ll let you know,” Tony said.

              “What do you do around Central for fun?” Mark asked.

              “Not much to do, other than train, enforce, drink, and pick up girls, the Chosen love enforcers. Just walk through the barracks and you’ll have your pick,” Tony grinned.

              Mark and Haas grinned too.

              “Heard there were some gangs around,” Haas asked.

              “Yeah,” Tony said, his grin souring. “People that never went through selection or don’t agree with Harmony. Fucking dissenters all over the place. Our job is to sniff them out. Most have tunnels that I don’t even know about. Smuggle goods all over the place, have a black-market of stuff; best to take a cut and let that slide. People don’t like it when they don’t have some options for food. Though some in that market are dissenters mark my words,” Tony said, not sounding like he knew what dissenters meant, but he’d heard it enough times to use it.

              “We’ll keep an eye out,” Haas said, looking at Mark who gave him a dark look and a scowl, mimicking Tony’s anger.

              Mark saw Moretti and Harper making their way back down the hallway.

              “Catch you around sometime,” Tony said.

              “Have to grab a beer man, I wanna hear more about that powered armor. Sounds fucking awesome,” Mark said slapping the man on the back.

              “I’ll take you up on that, Mark,” Tony grinned, slapping Mark on the back in a show of budding bromance.

              “Sometimes it’s hard to get good help,” Mark heard Moretti mutter to Harper.

              “These boys have shown their worth or else they wouldn’t be wearing those dusters,” Harper said, his voice not reproving but more like a father stating facts.

              Moretti made a noise that bordered on disagreement.

              “Always a pessimist, Moretti, though it is fortunately a useful trait that makes you of great use to me. If these were not times of war, then I would do all in my power to get you out of that slump. Now, I just hope that your pessimistic outlook aids our Chosen,” Harper said, tapping Moretti’s shoulder.

              “I hope that my service, however pessimistic is useful,” Moretti said, bowing.

              Harper laughed, it was a rich noise for one that had sent seventy-thousand to their deaths already. Mark had no idea how many had died on Shipping Station, or would die on it and Masoul.

              “You have, however, become much more exuberant in your displays,” Harper said, tapping Moretti’s back.

              “For the sake of Harmony,” Moretti said, saluting.

              Harper returned it, watching him leave, with Mark and Haas moving around Moretti as they made their exit.

              Mark caught Tony’s eye, and gave him a nod.

             
If they do have powered armor, this just got way more complicated.

Chapter 32

             
Landing City

             
Masoul Actual, Masoul System

             
5/3241

              Shipping Station was still being fought over, and it was a bad fight Moretti told them. The news outlets were pro-Harmony so they were only telling of great victories and mounting EMF casualties.

              If they were to be believed, then the carriers held millions rather than just over a hundred thousand.

              Mark let his arms fall closer to his body, feeling the blades under his arms. Weapons were a comforting touch to him.

              There was no contact outside of Masoul so Mark and the rest of the platoon worked their asses off to gather as much information as possible. He’d finally got a lead from the black market on some tunnels that weren’t on any official records.

              He’d befriended a gang of kids and teenagers, who didn’t want to be part of Harmony, but they knew something about fighting and could move goods around with ease. There were plenty of kids wandering around the tunnels, most of them were in classes that taught them the best way to kill a trooper in armor with everything from their hands and blades to assault rifles and the heavy machine guns that Mark and Haas had seen on their first day walking to the command center.

              For five meal bars they’d updated his map. He’d also got their ears listening out for new machine gun placements on the surface and rumors about armor.

              They were making their pay and then some.

              Though he wasn’t about to let on that he had an almost inexhaustible supply of food and that he would gladly pay three times as much for the information they gave him. That kind of act would make them suspicious and more eager to tell others about the awesome deal they’d made.

              Better to low-ball and keep them thinking he was just an enforcer trying to make his way up in the world.

              Thankfully, since he’d been buying food and other goods from the black market, as well as taking his cut, he was seen as trustworthy. No one was going to rat on the thing that would also send them to the educators.

              “Hey Lou,” Mark said, walking into the gang’s hideout. It was in a water recycling duct; they’d opened a panel and cut through the rock, making their own living area. It was the one place they hadn’t put any information on. From the way it looked there were a fair number of ways to enter the area and more than a few ways to escape.

              “Mark,” Lou said, nodding to him and moving from behind the panel as it slid out of the way. Mark walked in, the panel closing behind him.

              The tunnels and living area were rough with shoddy reinforcing posts and crossbeams, but it worked.

              As Mark wandered through, people moved away, hiding their faces in the path of his black duster.

              It didn’t take him long to reach Jolie, who was sitting in a large cavern. Tents and other hastily made structures made people’s sleeping quarters and homes.

              “Hey Mark,” Jolie said, lighting up as he got closer.

              She was about fifteen, perky, and had a crush on Mark like something else.

              “Hey Jolie,” Mark said, sitting opposite her.

              “Got these new pants down at market today, what do you think?” She said, turning and showing them off.

              “They’re nice,” he smiled, knowing the action was anything but innocent.

              Jolie pouted slightly before grabbing a data unit.

              “Here’s the basic guide to the towers, including the normal towers. You got the food?” she asked.

              “Yeah,” Mark said, pulling a pack out of his duster.

              “You guys hide a lot of things in those dusters,” she said, taking her time to look him over and then glanced up to his eyes.

              Mark shook the pack to move her eyes away from him.

              She was a pretty girl, but he wasn’t going to hit below eighteen. He tossed her a pack, and she caught it. Ignoring her looks, he tossed her three more.

              She threw him the data cube in return.

              Jolie snapped her fingers and Daz appeared, grabbing the bars and taking them away, probably to Jolie’s stash.

              “I’ve got more if you’ve heard anything about the armor and weapons,” Mark said.

              “Well, I might have something on the anti-Harmony groups,” Jolie said, her face becoming serious as she tested the waters.