Osdal (Harmony War Series Book 3) (17 page)

They were a lot better than their first time, the second time they had been with the Triple Twos guiding them. But that was months in the past and they were still confident in their skills - some of them a little too much.

“We’re going back to basics; seems your heads have a damned hole in the back of them!” she growled.

The sergeants got their sections together, Che was watching from the sidelines, and he saw that there wasn’t enough of the powered armor to go around.

They weren’t all getting powered armor before they got into contact with the Osdal Forces. While it hadn’t been confirmed that the chosen in Osdal were operating the powered armor, it was better to know how to use it if they could. It would at least help to counteract them in the field.

Sword fighting had come back in a big way thanks to the Vibra-Blade s. Nerva hadn’t gone into cryo; he was staying up to keep an eye on the situation in Osdal and also training any and all Troopers that were awake.

They had done a few fights with the powered armor against people with Vibra-Blade s, and it made her feel more confident, but it took concentrated time and effort to not just
use
the powered armor, but to
fight
in it. There was a reason that the powered armor back on Masoul had been using Repulsors instead of rifles. With the Repulsors they could spray and pray, it was a lot easier than actually aiming, plus the fine motor controls it would take to reload was a practice in the ‘annoying as fucking hell’ department.

Sergeants started to get people walking and moving easily, coaching them through the moves, and Alexis took her time checking them out. She was good, but over-thinking was a mess waiting to happen when you fought in powered armor.

Reacting and doing were a lot easier than just wandering around and realizing you were basically in a different body and it didn’t necessarily want to obey you. You had to learn how to just do, not think about it.

Alexis tried to take her mind off of it, her thoughts turning to Tyler.

He was off again in the middle of danger and there was nothing that she could do. It hurt, a bit less than last time, as she knew what to expect and had made the most of their time together. Yet it still pulled at her heart when she started thinking about the kind of danger he was in.

They had confirmed the existence of work camps that were used to keep the majority of people happy as a small percentage were thrown into hard labor and toughed it out.

There weren’t any official reports from the camps that they had picked up, but implants showed it all. Some of the things that she’d seen happening in those camps made her want to take the carrier to Osdal right that minute.

An anger burned in her, an anger that she hadn’t felt on Sacremon. Sacremon had been about surviving. Masoul had been about killing the bastards that had killed her people.

Osdal, Osdal was a mix of guilt, shame and anger. These people were just normal everyday folk. They might have been miners, cleaners, CEOs… it didn’t matter, they were peaceful and probably didn’t cause that many issues. They were just living their lives, until they were turned on by their neighbors, family, even loved ones, and thrown to Harmony.

Any freedom they had disappeared as soon as Harmony got hold of them. They’d become Harmony’s slaves and true workforce.

Those that professed loyalty for Harmony were given more freedoms. They got more food, less work, even air cars were available to them. Their work had been taken and dumped on the slaves and they didn’t give a fuck, because it wasn’t them. So what if some Earther died?

It wasn’t them, the loyal Harmony supporters.

It was surprising with what the human mind could come up with to rationalize their treatment of other humans.

The Harmony supporters with previously undreamed of luxuries, commented how disgusting the Earthers were when they had visited the camps, as if it was their fault for the conditions they lived in. Alexis saw that for what it was; people were making up excuses for why they could have a charmed life and watch as others died.

It boiled down to a few simple words: they must be bad because they’re not me. They deserve what they get. Yet the reasoning, for all of it, that went right out the fucking airlock.

So when Alexis felt anger, it was the all consuming rage she had seen take Mark. It made her want to punch, scream, it made her want to kill.

When the EMF got there, they wouldn’t just kill Harmony and be done with it. No. They were recording every person that supported Harmony, who had turned in someone that they cared about, or who had seen the suffering in the camps and done nothing.

Earth and Her Colonies had their reasons for doing this. Alexis’s were simple: she didn’t want to live in a universe populated by useless snakes who would change what they said at the drop of a hat and turn the blame onto those that couldn’t defend themselves.

Chapter 20

Processing Station Five

Osdal Actual Osdal System

6/3267

The ride hadn’t been as bad as Mark had feared. Felicia and her crew were a lot of fun, and they had booze for the days when it got really boring. The people on watch didn’t partake, but the others got a nice buzz on, played cards and bonded.

By the end, Mark knew that Moretti had picked a good freighter and crew.

He was almost sad as Processing Station Five came into view, looking like a scaled up version of Refining Station Seventy-Seven.

Felicia took over the comms channel and talked to the foreman, chatting like they were old friends and catching up on the latest gossip. More people were going to the camps. Seemed that there were Earthers everywhere. The Foreman and Felicia didn’t sound like they agreed with the situation, but they knew that to cross the Chosen was to get themselves thrown into those camps.

Moretti had made it clear that neither him nor the rest of the Bandit Two Corp cared for the Chosen, actually hinting at the fact he left Elekt was to get away from the Chosen and Harmony lovers, and Felicia’s barriers had fallen.

They’d talked about the Chosen with open disgust. They were nothing but bully boys with too much power and a chip on their shoulder against anyone they thought had any power.

Felicia had openly said that she was just looking forward to the EMF wiping the floor with the Chosen and getting back to working. The companies gave order, and she knew it was going to be hard when they came back, but she knew there was the possibility of upwards movement. She kept the Chosen at a distance and, when the EMF showed up, she and a lot of people she knew were going to hide out the battles and then start getting the economy rebuilt.

It would look good for the CEOs when they came back and their people were already looking to get the system back in working order and pumping out product.

“Fuck those inner system fuckers, some like Olson, the processing facility foreman, are okay. The rest are just uppity fucks that use Harmony to feel better about themselves and sit back on their asses. They don’t care about the fact others are being turned into slaves, as long as they get to have time off their happy.

“As soon as the EMF comes they’ll rush to show that they were faithful. In reality, they make up most of the Chosen. They like feeling powerful and important! I can’t wait to see what happens when
powerful and important
means being soldiers for Harmony against Troopers.

“There was a small pirate group here about fifty years past, the Troopers came in from Strike Station. I’ll never forget the broadcasts, they didn’t even wake up the entire carrier, only about a company. The carrier pounded the asteroid base and their ships to shit, then the Troopers went in. Mean fuckers them, come from Earth’s slums, they’d kill you for your shoes there you know.” She drank her green coffee squeeze bottle.

Yeah, or just because you looked at them the wrong way,
Mark thought, knowing the truth to her words.

“Anyway, they went in, looking like damned killing robots in the holo-vids. Could tell the pirates were screwed as soon as they dropped out of their Combat Shuttles.

“Four hours later, and the Troopers emerged, got on their Combat Shuttles and back onto their carrier. No more pirates. They continued through the system showing off their guns and power. Those Troopers were probably asleep already. Hell of a way to live, sleep for decades only to be woken up to fight.” She shrugged and took another drink from her bottle.

“Gold Runner, slip seven is clear,” a voice said through the center console.

“Thanks Raquel,” Felicia said, powering up her drives and following the waypoint that appeared on her HUD.

“The chosen might be bully boys and a few of them are actual fighters, but the EMF has numbers and killers. The chosen kill out of boredom.” She looked at Mark. “Boredom, how much of a fuck low life do you have to be to kill out of boredom?”

“A new kind of fuck up,” Mark replied, reclining in his seat.

“Got that right, anyway; while they kill out of boredom, the Troopers kill to survive, kill for one another. You fuck with one, you fuck with all. Think that’s a motto or something. But yeah, Troopers are trained to kill and destroy, Chosen are just dumb pricks with too much time on their hands, propaganda in their heads and not enough brain cells to be anything but cruel. Fucking waste of air if you ask me.”

The slip coming into view and it was a cage type thing with clamps all around it. Felicia brought them into the cradle, reducing their acceleration to zero. Moments later the clamps connected with the Gold Runner’s hull.

“One delivery done,” she said, pressing a button that connected her with everyone on the ship. “Helmets and suits!”

“All good Felicia,” Kale said back over the main line.

“Venting,” Felicia said, and air was pulled back into storage tanks. It didn’t take long but all background noise disappeared, as there was nothing for it to transmit through.

Mark felt rather than heard the large rear cargo door opening. The ‘roof’ of the large freighter was also opening, and arms reached down and started pulling containers out before the roof shutters were open all the way.

An extendable walkway connected to the airlock and the airlock lit with a blue light, saying it was connected.

“Power lines and fuel lines connected,” Felicia said.

It had been but a few minutes but they were already a fifth less of their cargo. The station was not one to wait around.

Mark adjusted to the lack of gravity, his augments stopping his inner ear from making his guts roll around. Dominguez tossed him his gear bag, and he slung it over his shoulder, making sure he didn’t mess up his space suit. Thing was more patches than actual material.

“Alright you lot, good meeting you, see you soon enough, make sure to get into as much trouble as possible!” Felicia called.

Mark smiled and waved, saying goodbye to the rest of the crew. They’d become close over the last two weeks.

Then Holm was leading them through the airlock, down the docking tube and into another airlock, some walking on their boots, but Mark used small touches to push himself around. With no air or gravity, he was enjoying the freedom.

Once through the airlock gravity returned and they found themselves among the various machinery that turned refined materials into complex compounds that were capable of making kilometer tall towers, or holding the power of a miniature sun, or micro-meteor impacts. These were the basic building blocks of any space-faring race.

Moretti took the lead, talking to someone that was waiting for them. They were escorted through the working machinery, while pressed hammered, and materials were sorted, heated, stretched mixed, formed and changed.

They came out of the facility into an area that was similar to Seventy-Seven’s living areas. There weren’t as many glowing signs and the place looked to be in better standings than the outer levels in Seventy-Seven. Moretti guided them through as if he’d been there all of his life.

Moretti did some more bargaining at a kiosk, and they dropped off their gear.

“Shuttle leaves in two hours, do whatever you want,” Moretti said when they got to the observatory.

Mark moved past him and looked out of the observatory’s crystal matrix, it had a really complex name, but everyone just called it glass. He looked out at Osdal Actual.

It was a red planet, red ground, red clouds and the tell tale swirls of colony cities, which sparkled under Osdal’s sun.

The red that covered everything wasn’t dirt like Mars, it was metals. Osdal Actual was an iron silicate world with ice caps, and was just far enough away from the sun to be habitable. Its day temperatures ranged from 40-50C.

Massive circles around the towns told of strip mines that had been cut into the planet. Everything was useful, and most of it was used by Osdal itself, only the rare metals were worth shipping up to the processing stations that hung in orbit.

There were rail accelerators dotted around the planet, which shot special containers to the stations. It was feasible due to the planet’s gravity being only three quarters of Earth’s.

Mark’s implants identified the different mining cities he was looking at, as well as the various launch sites. There was also a pop-up that told him about Diggers, animals native to Osdal. They heard vibrations and ate metals, using them as skin and organs.