Osdal (Harmony War Series Book 3) Page 2

  Not even Dashtund, the most vocal person in the platoon, tried to make a joke. For the universe, 23 years had passed since the EMF had cleared any resistance from Masoul System.

  The Troopers that had been there got two weeks leave to get over their loss, pull themselves together, and walk into their cryo pods.

  No time passed in their cryo pods, so they woke with the losses of their friends still fresh.

  Tyler caught Mark’s eye, and even he looked downcast as he nodded.

  No one yelled to get people moving, like they had on Mark’s first deployment. There weren’t any new recruits, only veterans with hard eyes and lined features.

  Mark turned his implants on, his view showing the same Heads Up Display his helmet would. Everyone was healthy, and the battle net confirmed that there were no enemy locations in the area of Reclaimer.

  Mark turned to the net where information and orders were passed through, and where there was a chat room for all Troopers.

  The post he was looking for was at the very top.

  Orders:

  Check Troopers’ status.

  Prepare for reinforcements.

  Commence training.

  Proceed to Osdal System.

  Mark let out a sigh as they exited the spine in a press of bodies. The spine held all of the enlisted Troopers in a central area, running the length of the ship.

  “’Sup?” Jerome asked, sounding tired and bored.

  “No indication of how much time we’ve got to train, or how long it will take to get to Osdal,” Mark said.

  Jerome was a shorter, tanned man, but training and augments had turned him into a hefty slab of corded muscle. He could easily carry his armor, ammo and two other Troopers with the same load out.

  Mark and Tyler had accepted him into their brotherhood; they’d fought together on Sacremon and that friendship had only grown with time.

  “Awesome,” Jerome said, his eyes smoldering as he ground his teeth in annoyance.

  Second Lieutenant Haas turned as they were walking so he could include the 18 Trooper platoon in his announcement. “Captain Ortiz wants to see us.” Haas was a solid man, heavyset like everyone else, with sandy blonde hair and eyes that had been dulled by loss, anger and fatigue.

  The platoon didn’t ask questions, but straightened as they followed.

  People talked here and there, but there was little to talk about. They were only ever woken up to fight someone. They all knew that the group calling themselves Harmony had been using Masoul as a testing ground, and it had taken two Earth Military Force Carriers to destroy Harmony in Masoul.

  Some eighty thousand Troopers had died to secure the system.

  If that was just their testing ground, Osdal’s going to be hell, Mark thought as the lift stopped.

  Their platoon had lost thirty-two people in Masoul.

  Second Lieutenant Haas sat at the front of the conference room, and Warrant Zukic sat next to him. Their entire Platoon was arranged around the conference table, waiting for their orders.

  Captain Ortiz was a fire-plug; short, strong as a tank, always pissed off and just waiting to snap. Yet, under all that, he was a good tactician, and he knew when to stow the anger and look at the situation in front of him.

  He cared about his Troopers first and foremost, and people respected the man.

  “Smoke them if you got them,” he said, pulling out a cigarette and lighting it. Others did the same, if for no other reason than to remove the taste in their mouths.

  Mark chewed on gum and pulled out a pack of chewing tobacco.

  Ortiz sank into a chair, and Mark had his chew encased in gum when Ortiz started talking.

  “Osdal is in open uprising; thing’s a shit show.” His eyes unfocused before a hologram appeared in the center of the table, showing the Osdal system. There was a sun, five planets and a thick Oort cloud. The first two planets from the sun were uninhabitable. The third planet was covered in organic materials - it was called - and the fifth was an iron-based planet, high in rare metals, called Osdal Actual. Refining facilities lay across the planet, and in-orbit processing stations took the materials from Osdal3, Osdal Actual and the Oort cloud, and then turned them into whatever their clients needed.

  The whole system had been turned into one massive material supplier.

  “Been doing it in the open for Twenty-One years. They didn’t spread like they did in Masoul; they were already in every area across the system. The entire fucking thing is hostile.” He took a drag of his cigarette. “There are twelve million people in all of Osdal. The cryo facilities were the first things to be destroyed. We are getting some information, but it’s slim; they control all of the information here. We know that they have powered armor and they can use it to bully people, but I don’t know if they’re any good with it in a fight.”

  Mark pulled an empty water pouch from his leg and spat into it.

  Here’s why he called us up here. Mark thought,

  The whole room was focused on Ortiz. “Your platoon is the only group of Troopers that have used powered armor, ever. We will be linking up with five other carriers, not including Fearless and Reclaimer. Higher wants people to be trained to take down powered armor. We’re supposed to get more in a few years, but it will probably be too late.”

  “So you want us to train people to take down powered armor?” Haas confirmed.

  “Yes. Be prepared to be used for clandestine operations, and bring your platoon up to strength. Nerva’s cooking up something,” Ortiz said, pausing, looking conflicted by what else he had to say. He looked up at the men and women in the room.

  “You need to understand that these are five different carriers, that’s five new generals and sets of people we need to deal with. Nerva is going to be doing his best to get us the best Troopers. Reclaimer and our people have shown that we’re good, time and time again. We look good. That makes other generals and Troopers look bad, so be ready for hostilities,” Ortiz’s voice was light, but all of them saw the warning in his eyes.

  ***

  Tyler ran his finger over Alexis’ new stripes on her smart clothes, two bronze lines over a bronze dot, identical to the insignia on his own arm.

  She wandered out of the shower drying her hair, naked as the day she was born.

  She was the most beautiful woman Tyler had ever met, and not just for her body, but for her mind and smile too.

  “Husband, clothes,” she said, towelling herself and holding her hand open.

  He grabbed her hand and pulled her down.

  “Will you two please get a room!” Waz, her second in command called; the rest of her section were out and taking in the last of their leave, sleeping, reading or playing a card game.

  Alexis hit Tyler’s arm.

  “Way to make me look like a sergeant,” she said. She got off of him, putting on the shirt and pulling her pants out from under him.

  The section didn’t even bat an eye lid; they’d fought across Masoul, they’d bled together and seen their friends die, so a bit of nudity might get a few interested looks, but communal showers were nothing to get excited about. It was just a shower. There were handsome guys and beautiful women and the showers had been used for more than just casual looking.

  Troopers respected one another like brothers and sisters. They usually saw people outside of their platoons as possible one night stands and a bit of fun, but few committed to anything serious, and sexual misconduct got you shot. No one wanted to have a would-be rapist on board.

  Tyler and Alexis had gone down the commitment route, as shown by the tattoos they’d got on their ring fingers. Rings got in the way of their armored gloves, but tats were fine.

  She sat on the bed and pulled her boots on her smart clothes, which clung tight to her form. Tyler sat there with his hands behind his head, smiling the entire time.

  She crawled on top of him and kissed him, and Tyler felt his arms wrapping around her, pulling her body to his own.

  “Maybe we should g
o to the library tonight?” he asked, biting her ear.

  He felt her body tense in pleasure, but she pulled away.

  “You know we have to do all of the paperwork for the transfers,” she said, and her eyes went distant for a moment. “Two hours till they arrive,” she said apologetically.

  “Plenty of time to go right now,” Tyler grinned.

  She tried not to smile, her face betraying her as she bit her lower lip and moved against him.

  “What do you say Mrs. Victor?” he asked, his large hands resting on her hips.

  “That you better hurry the hell up!”

  “Have fun, try not to get it on the upholstery, feel sorry for the bastards that have to clean the library,” Waz said, getting laughs from the section and Tyler.

  “You should try telling Helen that a library is meant to be quiet,” Alexis shot back.

  “Not my fault if she had a good time, oh, come on Horley, you and your goddamn Ace,” Waz complained, as Horley smiled happily at disrupting Waz’s attempt to go it alone in Euchre.

  Alexis and Tyler escaped to the hallway, holding hands.

  “So, what have you heard about the newbies?” Alexis asked.

  Tyler’s smile faltered. “It looks like they’re new, so we’re getting their Troopers that just completed basic. The other generals want to look good so they’re sticking with their veterans.”

  “Why the long face? We’ll get them into shape,” Alexis said, hitting him with her hip.

  “These ones didn’t go through the basic we went through; they just had to meet the Bare Minimum, none of them have been shot,” Tyler said, seeing Alexis wince. “But we’ll change them, though it’s not going to be easy.”

  “When are things ever easy?”

  “Ummm, can I get back to you on that one?”

  She laughed, the rich noise making Tyler’s grin turn into a full fledged smile. They shared everything, and she always made Tyler feel better for it. There were no lies, they told each other what they were thinking and that was why Tyler could never think to be with another person. He loved being with her, and time apart hurt him more than he would have thought possible.

  When they met they had been rival gang members, but joining Earth’s Military Forces and becoming Troopers together had turned their casual interest in one another into fully fledged love.

  “I love you,” he said, squeezing her hand slightly.

  She looked to at him, her eyes shining. They had only a trace of the veteran in them; the sad part that knew that their relationship could be ended by one stray bullet.

  “I love you too,” she said, accepting that vulnerability as he had, and brushing it aside.

  Tyler kissed her cheek.

  “Morning you two,” Mark said, looking sweaty.

  “Hey Mark!” Alexis smiled.

  “Bro!” Tyler beamed.

  Mark gave one of his rare, proud and pleased smiles. While Mark and Tyler didn’t share a mother or father, they were brothers, and they’d taken on the same last name to make it official.

  Mark was possibly the deadliest person Tyler knew, but he knew the soft-hearted bastard that lay under all of the muscle and training.

  He didn’t fight to inflict pain; he did it to save the Troopers around him.

  “Remember two hours, don’t be late Tyler!” Mark said, glancing to Alexis, clearly relying on her more than Tyler to get him to the shuttle bay.

  “He’ll be there,” Alexis said, looking to Tyler.

  “Have fun,” Mark rumbled, laughing as he walked past.

  “So why doesn’t he get another girlfriend?” Alexis asked when they were past. Mark saw her like a sister, and she was invested in seeing he was okay.

  “After Lucille hooked up with a med tech a week after they broke up, and she said she couldn’t deal with him being away, it cut deep. I don’t think he trusts anyone romantically.”

  “He’ll find someone,” Alexis said with a smile.

  Tyler smiled as well, pushing those thoughts aside as he put an arm around her and squeezed.

  “Then he’ll never want to let them go, he’ll want to wake up beside her every morning and kiss her all day, to hear her giggle.”

  “You talking about Mark or you?” Alexis asked, smiling.

  “Who’s Mark?” Tyler gave her a confused look.

  “I heard that!” Mark said from down the hall, not even looking back.

  ***

  Jerome found Mark in the cafeteria, and he sat down with the big man, taking a bite of his bagel.

  “You look over the messages from the yard yet?”

  “Nope, I was hoping you did, and we need a better name than just ‘The Yard’,” Mark said, shovelling cod into his mouth.

  “That stuff is so bland,” Jerome said, pointing at the fish.

  “I think eating paper would be more interesting, we’ve had this stuff for three weeks straight,” Mark said, automatically dismissing the time he’d been in a cryo pod in between.

  Jerome’s face wrinkled in distaste as Mark made a grunt of agreement.

  “So you read it?” Mark asked.

  “Yeah,” Jerome said, his voice quiet. “Quentin is dead.”

  Mark paused between bites, his fork lowering to the table. His jaw worked and he sighed. “It was bound to happen at some point while we were out here.”

  Mark had lost a great number of people. Death made him numb, but he understood his feelings, knowing only too well that he would get over the loss. He would remember Quentin as the man that had looked after him and Tyler. He pulled himself together and ate the fish by rote repetition. “What else?”

  “The yard got a contract to make two carriers every year for the next twenty years. The mines have expanded, and we’ve recouped our losses. The greenhouses are expanding; we control eighty percent of the market. There were some larger companies that tried to lean on us to take power and other items from them, but with the contract to make the carriers, they’ve backed off, and a bidding war has meant less overhead costs. A subsidiary has been created, as per our plan, and we’re not just making ships now, we’re also trading across Sol and offering repairs to other ships in the system. We’re hiring people right out of the EMF,” Jerome went over the high points, and he still couldn’t really believe how their investment and their people’s work had turned into a fledgling corporation.

  “Well it sounds like everything is going well.”

  “Yes, Madeline Costa has also requested to buy another abandoned yard. With the hostilities in the sphere, there is going to be an increased need for shipping once systems are reclaimed; apparently Masoul is producing more than current ships can move. Seems Harmony’s put a fire under everyone’s ass. The CEOs are using it as an incentive to push production higher. Costa wants to make freighters, the biggest Earth and Her Colonies have ever seen, tens of times bigger than the regular freighters,” Jerome said.

  “Does it look like a good idea to you?”

  “Even before the war, the freighters were barely keeping up, having larger versions on a constant rotation and based in Earth instead of out here in the sphere... I think it’s a good idea,” Jerome confirmed.

  “Okay, do it,” Mark said.

  “I haven’t even gone over the numbers!”

  “Ahh, I trust you,” Mark smiled, and finished off his fish. “We should get a move on to greet our new people.”

  Jerome stuffed his bagel in his mouth and grabbed his tray.

  At one time throwing food away would have been criminal; food on Earth was a costly thing, and anything remotely like real food and not supplement bars was premium product.

  They walked for the lifts that would take them to the flight deck. EMFC Reclaimer and the other carriers that were waiting for them were matching speeds, seven carriers, the largest force assembled heading towards their next battle.

  “I’ve heard that the officers are going to get moved around; Ortiz might be taking Dalton’s spot as Division Sergeant Major. />
  Dalton would be shifted to Major and Nerva gets a Force Sergeant Major. Nerva doesn’t want to be stuck behind a desk. Heard that he threatened to get in a fight just to get demoted and put back with his people,” Jerome grinned, proud of his commanding officer.

  “Who would replace Ortiz?” Mark asked.

  “A newly promoted Regiment Sergeant Major from the Indomitable,” Jerome said as they stepped into a lift.

  “We got any info on him?”

  “As much information as we have on the replacements.”

  “Well that makes me feel fucking awesome,” Mark grumbled, and a few looked in their direction.

  ***

  Nerva kicked the command door open, and the Lieutenant that made to stop him got pushed to the side as Nerva continued in.

  His face showed nothing, not the simmering rage beneath his calm exterior or a sigh from releasing at least some of his anger.

  She probably didn’t deserve that, he thought as he moved through.

  In the Trooper’s race, sexuality and sex didn’t matter, and there was no such rule as do not hit a woman, they’d damned well hit you.

  Domashev looked up from the latest reports.

  “I’m going on the ground or I’ll make you bust me down,” Nerva’s eyes cold as he, stopped a few feet away from the man.

  Someone, one of the old politicking officers, made to talk, and Domashev cut them off with a look.

  “Understood, it should have said that on your promotion slip,” Domashev said, his eyes looking over the others in the room; one of them must have changed the slip.

  Gazes averted. They were all favor callers and corporation wannabes. They couldn’t even take a stare like a Private.

  “I have a special project I need you and your old division to look into,” Domashev stood and waved Nerva to follow him.

  The others followed.

  Nerva was taken out of the command center and to an adjacent office. Daniel Moretti, the Intelligence Ministry’s current expert on Harmony and former right hand man of Harper, the leader of Harmony resistance on Masoul, waved them greetings as he smoked a cigar, his feet up on his desk and a surface in his lap.