Masoul (Harmony War Series Book 2) (53 page)

              The battle cleared away, troopers ceasing fire as the powered armor came into view.

              Four sets of powered armor headed right up the corridor Alexis was in.

              Tal, who Alexis only recognized because his name was written on his chest, grabbed her harness.

              She felt herself being pulled up as if she was a child. Tal dropped her off with the medics. Nerva was there as well, his armor showing that he had just come back from the frontlines himself.

              Haas walked up to Nerva and got talking. A medic came over to Alexis, checked her injuries, and applied painkillers.

              “Get back to the aid station, they’ll cut out the crap and print it new,” the medic said, turning to deal with others coming into their care.

              “All units, push forward. The Triple-Twos in their powered armor will act as support,” Nerva said to the section leaders and above within central tower.

              Alexis got to her good leg and hopped out of the way. She saw the green markers of the powered armor moving from the Chosen lines, past the troopers that were now moving up to secure new ground and push their frontlines up.

              The wall to her side fell apart, powered armor, a foot and a half taller than her, walking through it as easily as the door a few meters away.

              SWAS was painted on its breastplate.

              Its helmet opened, showing Tyler’s face. His concern was clear as he looked at her mangled knee, covered with white sealant, and all the blood on her clothes.

              “I’m getting a leg redo,” Alexis said.

              Pedro, who’d returned from medical only a few hours ago, walked through the door and looked at her.

              “Get them moving up with the advance, I’ll be back as soon as can be. You’re section leader,” she said as officially as possible, looking at Pedro.

              “On it, sarge,” Pedro said, nodding to her in understanding and giving Tyler a nod in greeting before leaving.

              “I leave for a few months and you get that leg blown up,” Tyler growled, but his heart wasn’t in it.

              He was now just feet from her.

              “Take her up to the aid station, yah big mutt. I want you down here double-time, need you and that armor,” Haas said, hitting Tyler’s side, the metal making a dull thud.

              “Yes, sir,” Tyler said, hooking his repulsor to his side and picking Alexis up.

              She grabbed the back of his open helmet, and then pulled her own off. It was hard to see in the dark, only illuminated by the fires, tracers, and explosions that were now kicking off as the lead trooper units found bands of Chosen that had thought that they were the reserve but had quickly become the frontline.

              She pulled herself up and kissed his lips. He was salty from sweat, but it filled her with new energy as tension released knowing that he was alive and safe.

***

              “One package delivered. We’ve got a new mission,” Haas said. Mark jumped through a wall as he saw a large group of Chosen approach. The sensor net had been thoroughly fucked up with weapons fire, Moretti’s Chosen blowing themselves up, and the rampage of Triple-Twos behind the Chosen lines. “We’re to support the troopers to regain control of this floor,” Haas continued.

              Rounds followed in, one cracking his left knee’s extra armor but not actually hitting the motor beneath.

              “Motherfucker,” Mark growled.

              “Mark?” Haas said.

              “Enemy contact,” Mark quickly replied.

              Troopers behind Mark opened up, and Mark used the covering fire to edge back out. He fired on the Chosen, but they were still far away and getting a heavy machine gun sorted out.

              “Fucking dickheads!” Dashtund yelled.

              “Through the housing units?” Mark asked.

              “Sounds like a plan, boss, not your best, but fuck it’s fun running through walls,” Dashtund said. Mark and Dashtund were in opposite housing units and stepped back a few feet, aiming for the bathroom and sleeping areas.

              “Looks like those old cartoons where they go flying through the wall with just their outline,” Dashtund continued.

              Mark applied full power and pushed off with his right foot, the cermite flooring cracking from the pressure. He didn’t have time to care, as in two steps he barreled through a bathroom, water spewing all over the place. He then smashed through a bedroom, through a living room, and into another bedroom.

              “Can you two hurry up? Trying to do a briefing here,” Haas sighed.

              “Sorry, boss,” Mark said, smiling.

              “Yeah, fucking right!” Haas said with a small laugh.

              “Moving to assist, coming in from left side,” Dominguez said.

              “Welcome to the party! I knew
you
couldn’t resist running through walls,” Dashtund joked.

              “Keep talking and we’ll see just how many walls you can be thrown through,” Dominguez said.

              Dashtund laughed, Dominguez letting out a snort.

              Dashtund and Mark smashed through the last wall shoulder first and facing towards one another. Their guns were on an angle, pointing at the Chosen.

              Mark and Dashtund fired; it was impossible to miss the Chosen milling around the three heavy machine guns.

              Mark landed in a crouch. Neither he or Dashtund had given the Chosen time to react.

              Dominguez showed up with Ko and Niemi.

              “Down!” Ko barked.

              Dashtund and Mark dropped without a second thought, and repulsor rounds went over them, hitting Chosen that had been moving to reinforce the group Mark and Dashtund had cut down.

              The new group didn’t fare any better.

              “Clear,” Dominguez said. Mark and Dashtund got up, covered in dust from running through so many walls.

              Mark looked at the way he had come; he could see troopers jogging up through the holes he’d made.

              “Finished yet?” Haas asked, sounding like a father that was just waiting for his child to wear themselves out.

              “Looks like it,” Mark said. His section spread out, covering the hall. The troopers moved up at a run, a few of them giving them nods of thanks as they passed by.

              “Alrighty, then! We’re on support for the troopers to clear the floor. Once that’s done, we’re tasked to secure Harper,” Haas said.

              “What about the educators, who has them? Those fuckers can rally any group of Chosen,” Holm asked.

              “Oh, there’s no need to worry about that, the resistance will deal with them.” Haas’ voice was cold, and even Mark felt a shiver go down his spine. He doubted the resistance’s treatment would be pleasant. Fighting your way out from under an abusive ruler did not usually leave you as a nice person.

              Mark looked to his HUD, changing from a map of the nearby area to all of Landing City. Some towers were doing better, but many were doing worse. They needed to win here and move to support the other troopers.

              Mark’s jaw tightened as he checked his ammunition count and moved to follow the troopers around him.

              “Diablo, that you, Mark?” Captain Ortiz said, walking out from the ranks of troopers, two following him.

              His helmet was open, internal lights illuminating his face.

              The man was covered in the soot, dust, and shiny near-misses of those that had been at the front of the fighting. His left forearm looked thin and a new armor plating rested on it, evidence that it had been regrown.

              “Yes, sir,” Mark said, turning to fully face the man.

              “Good fucking work, you lot. Saved a lot of people.” Ortiz looked to them all, letting that sink in.

              “Remind me to get you all a beer later. For now, I’m told that you’re our support?” Ortiz asked.

              “Yes, sir, you engage them, we’ll hammer them,” Mark said, lifting his repulsor.

              “Fucking-A.” Ortiz smiled. He looked tired, but there was a glint in his eyes. Mark knew to never underestimate his officers.

              “Get a full ammo loadout, I want you in peak condition. How much running time do you have in those things?” he asked, getting professional again. One of the troopers must have talked to others coming by; a tech hauling a cart of ammunition stopped, another tech followed, and they pulled out ammunition boxes and started hooking them up to Mark and the rest of his section.

              “Twenty-two hours,” Mark said. “We’re down to eighteen. The more we fight, the more power we burn through.”

              “Okay, I’m going to use you in rotations, then. Organize into two groups; I’ll hold one in reserve and have the other hit any opposition we find, then rotate you around as soon as we’re clear of the Chosen,” Ortiz said, looking to Mark.

              “Yes, sir, that should allow us all to be at roughly the same power levels. As soon as we’re done clearing this floor, we’re being tasked out,” Mark said.

              Ortiz nodded. “Understood, Nerva already told me.”

              More techs and their ammunition supplies fed into the three repulsor packs Mark and his section were wearing.

              “You want some spray-ite on those cracks and dents?” one of the techs asked, pointing to Mark’s various scuffs and his cracked knee plate.

              “Wanna coat the entire thing?” Mark asked.

              The tech looked Mark and the others over.

              “We’ll see what we can do,” the tech promised, heading to his supplies. He pulled out a large can of spray-ite and a metal plate.

***

              Nerva winced as a trooper applied more sealant to his side. It was a nasty wound, and numbing agents were at work to reduce the pain.

              He’d opted to forgo the painkillers to stay alert.

              Major Duvall was in overall control. Loa was a blue dot on its way through Center City to the combat shuttles that were now punching through the angry Masoul Actual clouds for Fearless and Reclaimer.

              Nerva scanned through his various views, NIDenise opening new screens for him as he thought of them. It was hard to oversee a battle even with the aid of an NIAI; without, it was easy to miss something.

              All of the troopers were pushing hard.

              Powered armor held back from the leading troopers’ lines and were using unconventional means to surprise the Chosen and put fire into their groupings.

              Chosen, but they were bully boys, not professional soldiers. They couldn’t see, they hadn’t slept in at least a day, the air was getting thin, and most of the leadership had been ripped apart by the grenades along the Chosen frontlines.

              The resistance fighters ambushed them and cut off supplies. More than one group of Chosen had fired on another thinking they were resistance fighters, or thinking that they were being fired on by them.

              Communication was done by yelling, so few actually knew that the powered armor was fighting with the EMF.

              A few even cheered as the powered armor came tumbling through walls or racing out of corridors to meet them.

              Wherever the powered armor appeared, enemy dots started disappearing.

              “Stairwell Echo cleared and secured, ready to move forces down to the next floor,” Captain Ortiz said in Nerva’s ear.

              “Understood, move up. I’m pulling your troopers for their secondary mission,” Nerva warned.

              A green light showed on Nerva’s HUD; Ortiz had already changed channels to talk to his people and pass on Nerva’s orders.

              Other units continued to push across the level.

              “Alright, so what can we expect Harper to do?” Nerva asked over his speakers, looking to the powered armor standing off to the side. A simple eye had been painted on its front.

              Nerva had never met the man, or heard his name; none of that was sent in the communications.

              Haas and the others vouched for the man, and he seemed to genuinely care for the troopers and combat shuttle crew that had worked with him for nearly a year.

              Right now, Nerva wanted to know what way the leader of this enemy might jump and be ready to cut any initiative off at the knees.

              “That is a good question. Harper is a good leader, good at getting people to do what he wants. Though I’ve thought for a long time that people were just using him as a puppet from somewhere. When I saw him in the command center six hours ago, he looked scared. He was a dog without a leash,” the man said before pausing to think.