Osdal (Harmony War Series Book 3) (38 page)

He only got a few hours until he was pulled away by his screens coming online and a voice in his ear.

“Rise and shine Troopers, we’re going to go have some fun,” Haas said.

Tyler checked his time; it was midday and the temperature stat looked high enough to make him sweat even in the air-conditioned powered armor.

The Troopers got to their feet, disconnecting power lines and checking weapons by ingrained instinct.

“What’s the plan sir?”

“Major Ortiz wants to give the briefing himself,” Haas said.

The sections rose, following him and Zukic towards some of the intact rooms on the level where a command post had been made and spray-ite added in liberally so no snipers could hit those inside.

The Chosen didn’t have many of the bolt action rifles, but those that did have them were good, or dead, leaving only the good ones that had some natural talent but no formal training. They were annoying enough without it. Only powered armor went near the edges of the towers now, unless there was spray-ite cover.

The command area looked like it had been a collection of housing units on the edge of the park that Tyler and the rest of the triple twos had been sleeping in.

Any walls left standing had been demolished, making a large open area, one side with command consoles and table, while the rest was filled with Troopers wearing powered armor. All of them were bulky and awkward in the space, helmets open to reveal their small-looking heads with armor plating all around.

“Triple Twos, get over here, you mutts,” Ortiz said, waving them over before turning back to the table he was standing over. People parted for them as they walked through.

“Haas, you’re going to be Captain Sook’s Sergeant Major,” Ortiz said, waving to a fierce looking woman across the table.

Tyler felt anxiety growing in his stomach. Ortiz looked to Zukic next.

Tyler had always feared the Triple Twos getting broken up, even though he’d known it was going to happen. They’d had the most time in close with Harmony and had spent the most time in powered armor. Other platoons needed to know what they knew. He just wished that their platoon had been kept together.

“Zukic, you are now a Second Lieutenant of the reinforced first Powered Armor Company, two platoon,”

“Holm, you and your section will join the two platoon. Mark, you will be the new Warrant for Three platoon. Jerome, make sure he doesn’t fuck it up. Both of your sections will be following.” Ortiz looked to the Section Commanders and their independent sections. He knew which of them belonged in which sections by heart. “Tyler and the rest of you misfits are in one platoon. I suggest you all check out your new ranks, for now I need you in the positions you are in. Later, if I can, I will be putting you into Bravo and Charlie Company of PA.” He looked to the people that weren’t getting a higher rank.

Tyler felt the meaning behind that. They had all shown that they were worthy of moving up in rank, proving themselves on the battlefield. For now, they were bulking up the ranks. If they kept up their performance, then they would find themselves attaining higher positions.

“Now that’s done, go and meet with your platoons and sections. Be quick about it, we’ve got work to do, you can get acquainted afterwards,” Ortiz said.

The Triple Twos shared looks and promises with one another silently. They might be going to different platoons and sections but they would remember their brothers and sisters any time, any where, they’d be right next to them again.

Tyler looked to Dashtund and Ali.

“
Dashtund, best behavior
,” Tyler said with his sub-vocals so no one else could hear, as his implants showed where his new platoon was standing. There were three platoons instead of the regular two to a company, the reason that Ortiz was calling them a
reinforced
company.

Tyler nodded to the people in the platoon, the three other Sergeants and two Officers nodded to him, and he could see them sizing him up and trying to judge if he would be an asset or a strain.

Tyler and his three stood a bit away from the rest; Tyler didn’t want to get mixed up in the platoon just yet.

“Alright, as you know we’ve got the bastards pinned in most towers. In a few we’ve needed to pull back, hammering the hell out of them with Combat Shuttles.

“We don’t have many of you armored bastards, so you’re hot commodities right now.

“Our first goal is to divest the Chosen of their powered armor, we’re getting reports that the dumb bastards aren’t recharging. Seems that a dead battery in your powered armor is a bad thing,” Ortiz said, his voice as dry as the planet outside the tower.

A few of the Troopers snorted and snickered.

“Seems that the majority of the bastards are running back downstairs to get into their charging cradles in the cryo-pod bunkers. I want to cut them off from that ability,” Ortiz said. A hologram showed the city floating in the middle of the room.

“At the base of every one of these towers is a cryo-bunker, just like every other colony city. The Triple Twos have been kind enough to point out where potential charging sites might be.” The holograms showed the different charging stations.

“We need to hit these stations, and stop them from charging their damned armor. Without their armor they’re just a bunch of untrained pricks with armor plating and guns. Still not a fucking walk in the library, though once the lights turn off in that place it’s a fucking minefield.” Ortiz shook his head, getting a few laughs from the Troopers.

“The armor gives them an advantage that we cannot afford for them to have: the ability to move unimpeded through our lines. We take out the charging stations, we get them to fight us in their armor plate, and we have a chance of winning this.”

“Insertion will be done with Combat Shuttles, so you will come in low and dangerous, drop off, and then guide fire into those charging positions. You’re too big to go through the drop hatches, so you’re going to have to charge out of the ramp. If we can’t hit the target with a Combat Shuttle, you are to move in and destroy the bunker,” Ortiz said, the hologram showing Combat Shuttles coming in and dropping out Troopers before flying off again. “Questions?”

Mark’s hand rose lazily.

“Mark?” Ortiz said.

“Major, we all know that those Combat Shuttles are bullet magnets right now. Getting off of them is going to be a bitch, and everyone and their best friend’s cousin is going to know where we are. What if we come in via the refinery conveyor belt?” Mark asked.

Ortiz looked to his aides. “Is that thing working?”

“Don’t know,” one of them replied.

“Well get someone with a scope to check out if the Diggers didn’t fuck it up,” Ortiz said.

Everyone waited, moving with agitation and the need to do something.

“It looks to be intact, it’s on a pad, and the spotter thinks that’s why it isn’t messed up,” the aide said.

“Good, then we’ll use that, get you in with hopefully less visibility, and thoroughly mess their day up. Anything else?” Ortiz looked out, no one said anything. “Good, get acquainted and you’re grabbing the next lift to the maintenance pad,” Ortiz said, turning and moving towards Haas and Sook.

“Sergeant Victor, I’m Second Lieutenant Hoi, this is warrant Mac, Sergeant’s Eristaz, Monte and Wong,” Hoi said, pointing to the others.

“Call me Tyler everyone does,” Tyler said, looking to the others.

“Against regs,” Mac said. He was bald, hard faced and mean looking, and those blue eyes looked merciless rather than just cold.

“Well there’s me and my two name brothers, Sergeant Jerome and Warrant Mark,” Tyler said. “Make things less confusing.”

“Very well,” Hoi said, overriding Mac.

Mac didn’t look pleased with it and Tyler couldn’t give a rat’s fart.

“What can you tell us about the city?” Monte asked. She had black hair shaved down the sides and pulled back in a pony tail, and intense brown eyes.

“It’s a fucking shit show. Twenty-One is where they kept all of the good gear, hell, they made most of it around here. They’ve got three quarters of their powered armor here, the rest is spread across the processing stations and the other cities,” Tyler talked about the various garrisons that he’d spotted, went over where the conveyor went underground and then broke apart to funnel into the various towers’ processing centers, or up to the landing pads.

It took some time but the whole platoon was listening, and Ali and Dashtund added in their own information, as they’d caught a lot of things that Tyler had forgotten.

“Well this ought to be interesting,” Hoi said after the briefing. The rest of the Troopers looked grim. Tyler found out that he had more time in than all of them, Mac was the closest to his own time, having the same as Dashtund. Ali still beat him by a few months. Mac seemed to be pissed off by this, more than find it cause to respect Tyler’s expertise.

If Tyler wasn’t on-mission and tired, he would’ve asked to have a private word with the Warrant and see just what the hell was sticking out of his ass.

The rest seemed to grasp that the more they knew the better. They were from the carrier Dauntless, they were Bare Minimum Troopers. Tyler didn’t want to be taking them into a firefight, they were too cocky and sure of their skills.

The armor was acting as a crutch, rather than a force multiplier. There were good apples among them, but most had been in long enough without sustained combat to still underestimate the Chosen.

Tyler hoped that they would live until he had time to train them up. He would have to go into battle with them under-trained and unprepared, but if he was on the same carrier as them, he’d break his foot up their asses getting them up to snuff.

He kept his personal judgements to himself, and the looks shared with Dashtund and Ali showed that they thought the same as him.

They broke apart and Tyler met his new section, who greeted him with nods and were amicable, but their Sergeant had just died the day before. The loss was rough especially for a unit that was used to showing up in a system and having the colonists put down their spears and go back to working for the companies.

They moved upwards through the cleared levels.

The pace increased as word got passed down; their rides were coming in on the landing pad. The powered armor Troopers’ big frames hit one another as they moved up the stairs.

Tyler kept his irritation to himself, and his helmet and his section’s helmets were closed against Osdal. Other section leaders were allowing their people to keep their helmets open to get some fresh air.

Tyler heard it before he saw it. A Trooper was joking one minute, the next he didn’t have a fucking head and blood was covering his buddies. They stopped, yelling and screaming, and another went down.

“Close your fucking helmets you fucking idiots!” Haas ordered, seeing the same thing, his shoulders pushing people out of the way, slamming helmets shut as people looked out for targets.

“Keep moving Troopers!” he barked. Walking to the two dead, a round pinged off of his armor, and he disregarded it, looking at the two dead Troopers.

“Whose are these?” Haas demanded; he knew whose they were already, his implants were feeding the information to him.

“They’re mine Sergeant Major,” Hoi admitted.

“Get your fucking shit straight! No one fucking opens their helmet unless we’re in cover. This isn’t a fucking carrier and we’re not out for a fucking stroll!”

Tyler had never known Haas to get so angry, but it matched his own feelings. He’d advised against it, but only Monte had listened.

“I didn’t…” Hoi started

“I don’t want to hear your fucking
reasons
, Second Lieutenant. I want your people to drag these suits upstairs!”

“Sir?” Hoi sounded confused.

“Well they’re not going to need them any more,” Haas said, looking at the Troopers.

“But that’s wrong, Sergeant Major,” Hoi said, struggling with the words.

“No more wrong than the bots doing it,” Haas said, his voice turning thoughtful. “You have seen the bots strip a battlefield, right?” Haas asked.

“No?” Hoi said, still confused.

Haas took a moment, probably pulling himself together.

“Understood. Well, detail someone to get these two upstairs,” Haas said, moving on.

The Troopers had flowed around them, making their way upstairs.

“Tyler, how fucked up are they?” Haas asked on a private channel, his question not the most delicate, but they were friends even thought different ranks.

“Fucked, all Bare Minimum for this bunch. I’ve got more time in combat than all of them put together, by a large margin. They’ve done three drops, on all of them the colonists weren’t using more than shotguns and they quickly gave up. Month’s the longest they’ve been under contact,” Tyler said.

“Ho-lee-fuck,” Haas drawled.

“Got it in one, sir,” Tyler agreed.

“I’m pushing this to higher, no wonder we got cut off, these boys were hard charging up front with barely any more training than the Chosen. They see an enemy they’ll probably chase it like a dog after a rabbit,” Haas said, sounding tired.