Masoul (Harmony War Series Book 2) (55 page)

              Now was not the time to stand around.

              Fire came from multiple corridors. Tyler and Holm’s sections slid to a stop, sparks coming from the floor as their metal suits skidded. They fired as Jerome and Mark ran past with their sections.

              “Clear!” Kojo called out.

              “Same,” Ko said.

              Tyler and Holm’s section peeled away from their firefight and caught up with the rear of the platoon.

              Only the subjectively low ceiling and the tight turns they needed to take kept the powered armor’s speed down.

              They turned, and Jerome slid as his legs looked to get purchase. The rest of the platoon followed, skating more than running.

              Only Bairamov went through the wall they were turning in front of.

              He came back out in a spray of dust and plaster panels.

              “Fucking detours,” he said.

              “Cut the pace. Coming up on the command center,” Haas said.

              The platoon slowed and crashed through a new office unit.

              Their pace stopped as Zukic pulled a ring of murder hole charges from his shoulder. Each section had one person wearing them.

              They linked them together and made a circle twenty feet wide.

              “Sections one and three, take a knee; two and four, stand in behind, just like we talked about,” Haas said as Zukic checked the ring of explosives.

              Jerome and Mark’s sections took a knee, forming a circle. Holm and Tyler stood behind them, creating an old-as-fuck-looking firing line.

             
I can’t believe people just walked into battle wearing a big fucking
‘shoot me’
jacket and fired at their opponents like it was some kind of goddamn lottery whether or not you survive.

              Yu, Young, and Bobbie had stayed with them. Jerome glanced at their signs on his HUD. They could have left for the carriers and been hauling ammunition and wounded, no one would have said anything.

              Instead, they had stayed down with the Triple-Twos. That took balls, really big fucking balls.

              “Good,” Zukic said, nestling next to Jerome and holding his repulsor out.

              “Let’s go ruin their fucking day, Zukic,” Haas said.

              The murder hole charges went off, the floor shook, and then everyone dropped.

              Jerome felt his stomach lurch for the few seconds they fell. Before they had hit the floor, people were firing.

              Jerome saw Harper looking from his chair with wide, shocked eyes.

              He jumped, Zukic following him.

              Jerome’s hand grabbed Harper’s janitor coveralls. This time they were actually dirty, and his usually kempt hair was a mess.

              Jerome didn’t fuck about; he broke the man’s hands and legs without hesitation. He looked up, the flashes of weapons fire disappearing as powered armor moved to secure the room.

              Harper was crying and screaming in pain.

             
Fucking rough day, man.

              “Fuck, dude,” Zukic said, his helmet tilting from Jerome to Harper.

              “Can’t fucking run now,” Jerome said.

              “No shit,” Zukic said, sighing, but Jerome sensed a laugh under it.

              Repulsors fired, getting others in the room.

              Others were opening their hands and putting data cards into computer slots.

              “Five minutes!” Holm announced.

              “Alright, section two, cover the entrance. Three, you’ve got the prisoner; one secures the floor above. Four, I want you to prep an exit for us. We’re gone in five minutes,” Haas said. People were moving before he’d finished giving orders.

              Mark and his section leaped through the rough hole in the ceiling.

              Any threats were dead in the command center.

              Jerome got off of Harper. He looked okay, other than the broken limbs and the screaming, and the crying, and—okay, he didn’t look good, he looked like shit, but fuck, he was alive.

             
It’s the small things that count,
Jerome thought, hooking his repulsor and opening his right gauntlet. He opened a medical pouch that he’d grabbed from the techs.

              He pulled out a needle and jabbed it into Harper; the crying and screaming stopped as Harper slumped into unconsciousness.

              “Contact!” Mark called, repulsors firing on the floor above.

              Ko screamed as a heavy machine gun went off.

              He went to red, and someone pushed him down through the hole in the ceiling.

              Dooks caught him before he landed.

              Jerome moved to him. Ko had his shoulder and left side chewed up. He was in a bad way; his lungs looked to be right fucked up. Jerome stuck him with as many drugs as he knew, which knocked him out, and drained a bottle of sealant in the various bullet holes.

              Jerome saw Mark moving on his HUD. Then there was a large explosion. A new heavy machine gun went off; Mark grunted and his indicator went red.

              Shortly after, the second heavy machine gun stopped shooting.

              “Good!” Holm said.

              “Let’s go!” Haas said. One section fell from the roof, Mark heavily so; he had wounds in his stomach that could turn bad quickly.

              Heavy machine guns opened up on the main door. Domo and Obe’s markers went black, tracers dancing inside their armor.

              Breaching charges that had been rigged up on a wall went up in a spray of cermite dust. Holm’s section crashed through the remaining wall as tracers continued to rip through the command center.

              Sasaki let out a cry but got free of the fire.

              Jerome threw Harper on his back and followed Holm’s section out; the other sections followed, firing at the doorways which were coming apart as the door sprouted more holes and rounds ripped through the cermite hallways.

              Then the section was in housing units, then out in a cafeteria. Weapons fired around Jerome and contacts blossomed; more heavy weapons fired.

              Ma screamed, then his cries died mid-breath.

              “Fuck!” Tyler growled as Ma’s black marker stayed in their wake.

              Then they were back in housing units and on a landing.

              Holm’s section, and Haas ahead of Jerome, used their limbs to clear a bloody path.

              Up they went. Another heavy cannon ripped into a doorway.

              Dooks let out a grunt.

              “Grenade out!” Ali yelled. Jerome saw the bandoleer go through the doorway.

              It went off, the Chosen’s screams reaching Jerome’s ears. No one in the platoon even slowed as they raced upstairs.

              They found the tail end of a new Chosen offensive; it was nothing like earlier attempts. Repulsors ripped through Chosen at close quarters, and Holm led his section through the Chosen, kicking, swiping, and running upwards.

              By the time Jerome got to the Chosen, not one Chosen was left alive on the stairs.

              It was a nerve-wracking five minutes before they emerged onto the trooper-held floor. It felt like a fucking eternity.

              “Blow the access points,” Nerva said as soon as they were all clear.

              Fire illuminated the walls, the floor shaking as dust shot out of the stairwell. Only broken metal and a large hole remained.

              Jerome panted, adrenaline making his mouth taste metallic and dry. He deposited Harper on the floor; the man looked alive, at least.

              Jerome opened his helmet. Already, troopers were looking to the wounded. Jerome opened up his shell so that he was sitting in his powered armor. He grabbed a pack of cigarettes from his pocket, put one to his lips, and lit it.

              The air was thin and it was hard to breathe, but still he puffed on that cigarette.

              “Can I bum a cigarette?” Zukic asked, sitting down next to Jerome and opening his armor up.

              Jerome passed the pack and lighter over.

              The floor smelled fucking terrible, not even the cigarette could hide it.

              He didn’t get long to think about it.

              “Thanks,” Zukic said, puffing out smoke as Jerome tucked it all away.

              “No worries, dude,” Jerome said. They weren’t a warrant or sergeant at that moment, they were just two troopers sharing a smoke together.

              “Alright, wounded Triple-Twos, you’re to get sorted out as soon as possible. Ko’s heading for the shuttles now,” Haas said.

              The man was on a stretcher, getting a medic and troopers. As they ran, the medic worked on Ko.

              “Jerome, your section is taking Harper up to the landing pads. The rest of you make your way to the upper levels. More air, and we’re getting a bit of a break. It’s not going to be long; Nerva is just figuring out how to use us best, and we’ve still got about eight hours of juice left,” Haas said. “Alright, let’s go!” Haas sounded tired, but his people listened.

                Some of the Triple-Twos needed help walking, but they passed through the lines. He puffed at the cigarette in the corner of his mouth and let out a stream of smoke behind him.

Chapter 48

             
Tower

             
Earth, Sol System

             
6/3242

              Nivad looked like he hadn’t slept in weeks; in the end, it had been five days. Even with that, he looked happy, honest-to-God happy.

              “It’s confirmed?” he asked as Dalia finished her report. He knew that it had been, or else she wouldn’t have brought it to him.

             
But it still feels good to hear,
he admitted to himself in the privacy of his own mind.

              She smiled slightly, obviously feeling the same way as she exhaled the cigarette smoke, looking to her surface.

              “Our top agent has been recovered aboard the carrier Reclaimer. The operative known as Harper was also recovered alive. We have information from the secondary command center, data from the research and development labs, and a copy of information from the primary command center. We turned a nineteen percent profit. The Masoul partnership is working to meet their quota for the next freighters coming up. The Trasys company has agreed to our negotiated price for their recovered freighter. Bonuses will be distributed as such.”

              “Shipping Station is expected to be up and running in four months,” she continued, holding the cigarette to her lips and taking a drag.

              Nivad did the same and looked at his view screens.

              “Good, very good. Express my gratitude to our agent, and make sure that they are suitably recompensed. Take into consideration that I will be telling them to remain with Reclaimer to act as a subject matter expert,” Nivad said.

              “Yes, sir,” she said, making a note on her surface.

              Nivad luxuriated in the feeling of victory, looking out over Mega City’s glass, cermite, and polished metal faces. This was the center of his power; it was immense and staggering. Few if any had wielded the power he now held. Other thoughts tried to sneak in as he smoked and looked over his empire.

              The cigarette burned to a stub and he put it in his ashtray. His face tightened into serious lines as he let the thoughts he’d held at bay dance in his mind.

              “What about the operation with Osdal and Harmony?” Nivad asked.

              Dalia’s face soured and her own face tightened.

              “Osdal is showing its hands; operatives that have inserted themselves into lower standings are seeing the corruption. The top CEOs seem to be working with Harmony, or at least supporting them. They already have Chosen across the planet and system. It won’t be a Masoul; there is little to no resistance. If that will hold true for the twenty-three years it will take Reclaimer and our other carriers to reach the system…” she shrugged.

              “And Harmony is using the broadcasts?” he asked.

              “We haven’t confirmed it yet, but four systems including Osdal showed similar viewing behavior,” she said, looking like she had a bad taste in her mouth. “It’s still unconfirmed,” she added; it was clear she didn’t like how it wasn’t concrete.