Masoul (Harmony War Series Book 2) (51 page)

              She turned away looking at her HUD, something seemed to have kicked the Chosen into high gear and they were rushing up through Landing City’s towers.

              “Pull back if you need to and take defensive positions,” Nerva said over the channel reserved for section leaders and the higher-ups. “We need to defeat the Chosen here.”

Chapter 44

             
Tower

             
Earth, Sol System

             
6/3242

              Nivad watched the feeds on his walls carefully.

              His people were making sure to edit out everything about the machine guns and other weapons that the Chosen were using. He didn’t want the people in Osdal using the feed to see what was going on. With the EMP, there weren’t any signals coming from Landing City. All of the receivers and communications equipment had been destroyed by the EMP blast.

              While the troopers were learning to deal with the obstacles, the Chosen were also altering their methods. That was progress and knowledge Nivad didn’t want Osdal understanding.

              Nivad wanted them to make the same costly mistakes the Chosen were making when the EMF reached them.

              He checked the unaltered reports, looking for information on the powered armor. It hadn’t been deployed, and Nivad didn’t know if it was being controlled by friendly or Harmony forces.

              They hadn’t told him their plans; nothing was truly secure, and Nivad understood the need to keep some things close to their chests.

              The waiting was something else.

              Nivad absently smoked, feeling the stims bring life back to his body. He hadn’t left his office since the bombardment had started. No one that was connected to Masoul in any way, or was head of any other system, dared to leave.

              Dalia walked into his office. Nivad took a harder drag from his cigarette, sensing something wrong as she stopped in front of his desk, and he put his cigarette in an ashtray and pressed a button that created a noise-cancelling field and jammer.

              White noise filled the room before he waved for her to go on as he exhaled smoke.

              “We’ve got our first indications of Harmony in Osdal,” she said.

              He nodded for her to proceed.

              “The head of Osdal information took the feeds and set their people to searching for users that were sharing their feeds out and people that were looking at specific exchanges where the heavy weapons are being used. We got seventeen hits. I had Osdal check it against Earth’s viewership; there was a clear difference in viewing by the seventeen feeds,” she said.

              “Good. Now check it against every other system,” Nivad said.

              He saw the flash of confusion on her face.

              “Yes, Nivad,” she said, drawing out his name, turning it into a question.

              “I have a hunch,” he said, more than what he would have told others. He would’ve turned them into a cowering wreck for questioning his orders. Dalia had been with him since the beginning; she got a few perks.

              “I will put the teams onto it. Discreetly,” she said, the two of them locking eyes in understanding.

              “Very well. And we should cut back on having the heavy weapons even hinted at in feeds. In a few hours, I will want a large hint of the heavy weapons. We can use that as definitive proof of those interested in the capabilities of their weapon systems,” Nivad said.

              “It will be done,” she said, making a note on her surface and heading for the door. Nivad turned off the jammer and noise-cancelling field as she opened and closed the door behind her.

             
Soon they will have enough rope to hang themselves, as the saying goes.
Nivad pulled out another cigarette and lit it. Not even a hint of a smile touched his lips as his gut told him things were going to get worse.

Chapter 45

             
Landing City

             
Masoul Actual, Masoul System

             
6/3242

              Moretti saw his Chosen move out of the way of their leaders. They walked to where Moretti stood before the armored doors leading to the research and development area.

              Jerome and Dooks stood outside the doors in regular powered armor, looking like they were just waiting to get into the fight.

              “For the sake of Harmony,” said Jaka, Moretti’s second in command, and leader of the Chosen when he was dealing with other matters.

              The others joined and Moretti repeated those hated words.

              “What are your orders?” Jaka asked, the others standing back in respect.

              “We shall bring the war to the troopers and we will destroy our enemies,” Moretti said, his excitement at being so close to finishing his mission rushing through his veins.

              Jaka saw it, as a cold grin spread across his scarred and hardened features.

              “I was able to get presents from the research and development people,” Moretti said, waving to the tubes that lay on the ground behind him.

              “What are they?” Jaka asked, picking one up and touching the cord.

              “Don’t pull that just yet,” Moretti said, resting a hand on the other man’s where he touched the cord. “These are flares. Use them to get your people to rally to you before you go into battle. They will also work to mess up the troopers’ helmets, they won’t be able to see. When you get to the front lines, use them. Blind the enemy and bring Harmony its victory,” Moretti said. “I will be following your charge with the powered armor. We will hit the enemy with a wave of confusion and terror,” Moretti promised the man.

              “Understood,” Jaka said, tucking the flare away.

              “I want every leader to carry one. Spread the extras out to those that are good at following orders. Having them all detonate at the same time will only serve to intensify the dazzling effect on the enemy,” Moretti said, raising his voice so the other leaders knew he was addressing them, and waving to the tubes. Moretti looked to Jaka’s eyes. “Remember, do not use them before you join up with the other Chosen.”

              “Make sure everyone has a watch that works, and start off the attack as one,” Moretti pressed. He needed to know that they would all use their flares in one round; it would make things easier.

              “I will see to it,” Jaka promised. “For the sake of Harmony.”

              “For the sake of Harmony and for victory,” Moretti responded, getting hollers and cheers from his Chosen.

              Leaders for two hundred thousand men grabbed flares, spreading them to one in every fifty.

              They were treated with care and honor at being given such a responsibility.

              “Lead them well, Jaka,” Moretti said, taking a page out of Harper’s book and resting his hand on Jaka’s shoulder, and looking him in the eye to once again impress upon him the importance of his given task.

              “We will not fail, Moretti,” Jaka promised.

              “I will be right behind you. It is time that I got in my armor,” Moretti said.

***

              The grenades had been passed out, the resistance had drained the armories, and all of the powered armor was up and running. Two extra battery packs rested under newer, thicker armor.

              They looked like a metalworking project, all welds and rough edges. Metal showed where it had been cut by a plasma cutter, and new scratches marred their open shells.

              “It’s time,” Haas said. Jolie had stuck around, coordinating the distribution of supplies and turning the research and development area into a resistance base. The empty armory holding the unused powered armor was locked and secured.

              “Should get these things air fresheners or something. I come out smelling like sweaty balls and ass,” Dashtund complained.

              “What else is different?” Mark said, smiling to Dashtund.

              “Fuck, sometimes I forget you have a sense of humor in there,” Dashtund said.

              Jerome felt himself relax with the banter.

              “I need to find a new job, like a mess chief,” Sasaki complained.

              “First, it’s mess chef, and why the fuck would you wanna do that?” Dashtund asked.

              “Food whenever I want it, no sense of adventure, and I only have to see your face three times a day,” she said, sticking her tongue out.

              “You realize you’d have to eat your own food, right?” Obe said.

              “Yeah, and?” Sasaki asked, sensing a trap but not sure where it was coming from.

              “Fuck, at least she can have a straight face—well, right before she actually tries it,” Ali said, his serious nod turning into a growing smile. He checked his extra armor plates by hitting on them.

              “Dick,” she said, shaking her head and smiling as she interacted with her powered armor’s console.

              “Hell, might get us a few days off with food poisoning,” Tal threw in, checking his armor.

              “Ugh, as much as you’re a nice dude, Tal, your farts could fucking kill cockroaches,” Ko said matter-of-factly. Jerome couldn’t stop himself from laughing.

              “Yeah, no way I’m spending two days in a toilet with you fuckers,” Dominguez agreed with her best friend’s opinion.

              “How in the hell did I get stuck with these jackasses?” Haas looked to the ceiling.

              Everyone finished up their own checks, grins on their faces and feeling better than they had in weeks.

              They were nervous and scared for what might come, but they were together and ready for it. They were closer than ever, and with their powered armor, whoever would dare go up against them had a lot less than two brain cells, and they weren’t rubbing together.

              Jerome stepped back into the armor, pushing his boots into their locks. He stretched out, his hands grabbing the actuators that moved his external hands. He sent a command from his implants.

              The armor responded, closing around him and locking itself up.

              He saw his diagnostics running through his implants.

              “You guys are fucking weird,” Moretti said, where he was getting in his armor.

              They all laughed and grinned. Their brother- and sisterhood wasn’t open to just anyone. They’d all paid a steep price for their membership.

              Everything booted up, and the powered armor confirmed a good connection to Jerome’s implants.

              He disengaged the cradle; plugs and tubes pulled out and he stepped free, sealing all of his ports.

              “Hey, Dooks,” Jerome said, turning so his back was towards the other man that was walking out of his cradle.

              Dooks looked him over, making sure he was all sealed up.

              “Looking good, sarge,” Dooks said. Jerome turned around, facing the man.

              “Turn around, yah big bastard,” Jerome said.

              Dooks did so, Jerome eyeballing his powered armor and pressing a panel that looked open but was indeed closed.

              “Good to go,” Jerome said, tapping the man’s shoulder lightly.

              Unless in combat, it was better to hit with as little force as possible.

              Others were doing buddy checks as well, making sure everything was good.

              Jolie was looking at them all, her pistol still out and ready, looking anxious as hell.

              The other resistance people milling around all watched them with interest.

              “Time to get our guns,” Jerome said, moving to his enlarged and modified ammunition pack.

              Dooks got him lined up and latched the main pack into place. It was twice the size of the normal repulsor pack.

              He also got the smaller packs attached to Jerome’s legs; they had been armored and connected into the secondary feeder lines on the main ammunition pack.

              Jerome tucked the feeder belt into the belt on his front and helped Dooks get his ammunition packs on.

              Grunts, muttering, and the mechanical whir of servos punctuated the troopers’ work.

              Everyone was ammoed up and checked over in ten minutes.

              They grabbed repulsors, checking them with drills done so often they were instinctual. Feeding belts were checked and slotted into position. Repulsors were cocked and belts clicked as rounds were moved.

              Jerome moved through his section. There had been eleven, including him, when they had entered Masoul System. Now there were just five. All of the sections were like that, but he was focused on checking their gear himself. He turned to face Haas and Zukic, who were standing near the armored door that led into Landing City. The other sections were checked by their leaders and moved closer to their officer and warrant.

              Haas waited until they were all there, before looking at them all. Jerome stood straighter, seeing the pride in Haas’ eyes.

              “Already we have carried out a mission the likes of which the EMF has not undertaken in its history. Each and every person here has done their duty and more. I am proud to stand among men and women such as yourselves,” Haas paused, looking at them all. They smiled, and a mix of feelings welled up in Jerome.

              “Today marks the end of our mission. Our fellow troopers need us, and the Triple-Twos aren’t going to let them down,” he said, his solemn face splitting into a grin.

              He looked to Moretti. “And just for today, I’ll say that you’re a Triple-Two with us.”

              Troopers patted the man’s back as he blushed.

              He might have still been a spy, and he would have cursed them all out for doing the same act some thirty years ago, but they were the only people with whom he felt he could be himself.

              Jerome saw how much that meant to the man as he went red with embarrassment and also happiness. The man might not have been part of any group before, but here he had made friends with those that would lay down their lives for their comrades.

             
Nothing quite like that,
Jerome thought with a smile, looking at his platoon, his family.

              “Alright, Triple-Twos, let’s go and fuck up Harmony’s day,” Haas said. His helmet dropped forward with the sharp noise of metal striking metal. The rest of the platoon did the same.

              The research and development area was replaced with darkness, the sounds of bolts locking, and then his HUD coming up.

              Jerome’s implants laid over the most important information, while the powered armor’s HUD displayed the outside world.

              It didn’t even seem that Jerome was wearing a helmet, other than his inability to move his neck sideways more than a few degrees.

              Haas moved out first, Jerome to his right and Tyler to his left, their section trailing behind with Mark tagging behind Jerome and Holm behind Tyler. Yu, Young, and Bobbie were in Tyler, Jerome, and Holm’s sections, respectively. Zukic was to the rear with Moretti.

              “Shut the door behind us, will you, Jolie?” Tyler said as they got into motion.

              Haas opened the door and led them out into Landing City. Jerome’s filters altered and the world changed from full color to greenish tints.

              It was a bit annoying, but he could still see better than any Chosen on Masoul.

              Haas led, the powered armor racing over the ground even at their lowest power setting. Jerome couldn’t even feel the weight on his powered armor’s back.

              He focused on looking at his HUD, checking the mini-map as they linked up with the sensor grids that the resistance had distributed across Landing City.

              The seventy-ninth floor was a mass of engagements, the Chosen pushing up over their fallen and overtaking the troopers that had been thrown on the defensive.

              “Blades,” Haas called.

              Jerome pulled the blade from his side.

              They passed a small group of Chosen with no one around. The platoon opened their ranks, blades catching the fire’s light.