Osdal (Harmony War Series Book 3) (39 page)

“I think so.”

“Shit, wait five,” Haas said, ending the channel. Ali and Dashtund had been given the crappy old time of hauling the dead bastards out of the armor and then slinging it on their shoulders and climbing upwards.

Tyler ordered his section to keep going as they made it to the level before the landing pad, and wounded were all around the level, close to the main stairwell that went up. There were now other casualty areas on lower floors to get people stabilized and then pushed upwards to the secured landing pad, though all of the supplies and most of the wounded needing evacuation to more substantial medical facilities were up on this floor.

Tyler walked in, looking for someone to take the powered armor off Dashtund and Ali’s hands instead of them traipsing it all over the place.

He walked towards the marker, turned and ran right into a very familiar Trooper.

She seemed to shake herself out of a daze, then looked at his armor and up at his opaque armor-covered helmet.

“Babe?” she asked.

“Miss Victors, I’m assuming,” Tyler said, opening his helmet. They were at too much of an oblique angle for a sniper to see him, let alone hit him.

She jumped, wrapping her feet around him and pulling her helmet off. Her hair fell down and she kissed him. It was desperate, her smiled mingled with relieved tears, not all of them being hers. He was careful to not let his emotions overtake his control. He wanted to squeeze her to him.

“Well, Warrant, when we came up here we weren’t expecting this.” Tyler knew the voice, and he turned seeing Second Lieutenant Che.

“Heya Che,” Tyler said.

“Hey Tyler,” she said with a smile and a nod. She looked tired, and happy for them both.

“Stop going on stupid ass missions you hear me,” Alexis said into his neck, not caring who saw her clinging to his armor like a damned monkey.

“I’ll try not to, love,” Tyler promised.

“Don’t worry, we’re going to be with him on his next stupid mission.” Che got both of their attention. “Ortiz got a call from someone about the PA platoon you’re with, they’re right fucked up and my platoon is rested and good to go. You can call me Warrant Che, Second Lieutenant Victor,” she said with a smile.

“Ah shit, sorry Che,” Tyler said.

“You know what’s going on better than I do. I’m fine with the demotion. I would have suggested it. I’ve been promised that when we get a few more sets of powered armor that I’m going to get my platoon back and you’re going to get your shot at being a Sergeant Major, you’ll have to compete for it though. You triple twos are rank climbing monkeys if I ever did see,” she said with a grin that belied any harsh intent.

“Thank you Che, we do try our best,” Tyler grinned. “When will you be ready?”

“Ten minutes. We’re gonna have some pissed off people, but we need this to work, people’s egos can get fucked,” Che said, her eyes hard and unwavering.

“Good to hear,” Tyler said, looking back to Alexis who was listening to the exchange.

“Now do you mind getting off me, my little limpet?” Tyler asked her.

“Fiine, but you owe me dinner,” she said, her eyes thinning.

“Okay.” He tried to make it sound like a chore, but was smiling all the same. She punched his armor, her face turning serious.

“How is Mark?” Alexis asked as Che left them to go get the armor sorted.

“I don’t know,” Tyler said, the words heavy on his soul. Mark’s condition worried him. He was driven, he’d always been driven, but now he was cold. He’d joked before, and he’d always had something soft under that rough exterior. Now, there was something haunting in his eyes. It was as if he had seen something that had taken his soul and twisted it into something nasty and dark.

“You think he’ll be okay?” Alexis said, worry in her voice; she cared for Mark deeply.

“I don’t think it’s something we can help.”

Alexis could read the emotions in his eyes and face as surely as he could read them in hers. Her lips pressed together in a worried white line as she looked away. “We’ll help him where we can.”

“Yeah,” Tyler said, wishing that there was something that he could do to alleviate some of the pain his brother was going through.

Mark, seemingly summoned by their words, stalked into the room. There was a heaviness to his actions, and a predatory way that he looked at everyone and everything. Tyler hadn’t noticed it before. He knew his brother was a killer, Tyler was too. But the cold look in his eyes was of someone who had seen so much death that they had become immune to it. Tyler had seen it a few times, and it was the kind of look that scared a man to the core.

Osdal had changed Mark.

“Hey Alexis, got you your party-going outfit. Shuttle lift in fifteen,” Mark said, setting the armor down next to a pallet of supplies. It was open and waiting for a user.

“Thanks Mark,” she said with a smile.

A touch of something warm opened his features as he nodded to her, a slight smile on his lips. “I’ll see you two later.” His helmet swung shut and locked as he turned and made for the doorway again.

Alexis and Tyler shared a worried glance.

“We look after our own,” Alexis said, kissing Tyler’s cheek and getting into the armor. The panels closed around her and started locking together.

“Lee, you’re good with everything around here?” she asked an armored Trooper who was moving his hands in a way only someone using their implants would.

“I’ll be fine, Warrant. The Major’s aide’s contacted me saying that they needed you for a mission.”

“Thanks Lee.”

“No worries Victor, good luck.” His hands were moving before the last word left his lips.

***

The flight to the maintenance pad had been fast. Figuring out how to get the conveyor running was a pain but they got it working eventually.

Jerome was the first section at the front of the belt. The belt was ten feet wide and ran from the refining station to the city.

There was little to do but sit back and wait, hoping that no one started looking too closely at the refined ingots that were coming out of the refinery. Jerome stayed down not moving an inch, just talking to his section, getting to know them as they rolled past the kilometers. Diggers were still edging out of the ground here and there, but none of them were actively throwing themselves out of the ground now.

“I see the ramp down,” Jerome said after some time. The towers were a hell of a lot closer and the conveyor belt was sloping down and under the city.

He tensed as they went down. It was dark underground, but his powered armor made up for the lack of light, giving the area he was in a greenish glow.

“Up and at ‘em,” Jerome said, getting to his feet. He jumped and rolled, losing the momentum of the speeding conveyor. He got up a little dizzier than before but none the less worse for wear. Another section jumped off of the conveyor on the other side.

Jerome pushed up a fire team made of Feng and Av. They moved for the only door nearby, and Jerome was pointed down the length of the platform.

“Good, no sign of Chosen. Dropping censors and rigging the door,” Feng said.

“Understood. The rest of you fan out, we’ll move in extended line up the platform, the section below will clear the doors as we pass them,” Jerome said, including Hama, the Sergeant of four’s section who was right behind him.

A green light showed that Hama got the message as he flicked off the channel, probably talking to his own people. They advanced, a platoon on either side clearing up the platform and checking doors. They made quick progress, heading for the doors that would take them up to their targets. The powered armor made the few kilometers disappear.

There were three doors, each getting a platoon’s attention. A tower could easily take in an entire force and spit back out a platoon, that’s just how urban ops went. Their job was to hit hard and fast, then fuck off to the next target.

Then, somehow, get to one of the towers that the Chosen have left behind and get the fuck out of here.

The plan had a few flaws, but if they got these chargers then the PACs should be fucked. The AMRs had been blasting solar panels for the last couple of days, all the Chosen had left should be their emergency batteries.

“Execute,” Lieutenant Sook said.

Jaz’s section was quick and efficient in their movements. They made through the floors quickly to the lobby, and red haloes started appearing. The red haloes were removed and Jerome saw that Mark and Sasaki were among them.

Jerome followed up behind, the platoon moving to the cryo bunker. The first red halos looked like they had been cut down by Vibra-Blades instead of much louder Repulsors.

The first weapon fired, and the platoon continued to advance. Jerome’s section stayed back in the lobby to make sure they had a clean escape.

The cryo-bunker was separate from the conveyor belt access point, with only one way in and out.

There was more muffled shooting in the bunker. Hama’s section was sent back out to assist Jerome’s because the Chosen, if they were around, had heard them by now. It didn’t take long for someone to show up; unfortunately, those someone’s were PACs.

Jerome didn’t hesitate, opening fire on the PACs, and the rest of his section added in their fire. Hama kept his section back, ready to be deployed if necessary but not wasting rounds.

Jerome’s people knew how to shoot, and their Repulsors took the PACs down quickly as they came around the corner. Jerome heard a deep thump of explosions in the distance and checked his HUD, the rest of the platoon was pulling back.

“Jerome, Hama, hold position, cover the rest of the section out,” Kumer said.

Jerome greened up, his section were firing in sequence so there were always rounds hitting the target, but they weren’t all firing at the same time.

The two sections moved past them, and someone tossed a grenade in the general area where the PACs were coming from. Three or four PACs ran out, getting cut down.

The grenade went off, crap coming out of where it had gone off, and Hama’s section pulled back to the conveyor belt access.

“Peel back,” Jerome ordered. His people were waiting for it; in fire teams they ran back a distance, turned and fired on the point where the PACs were coming from.

PACs appeared, but there was always someone waiting for them. The cocky armored up bastards were cut down. People seemed to be getting the idea that there was a threat downstairs.

Jerome shut the door behind him tossing mines all over the place.

“Move it Troopers, got more battery stores to fuck with!” Mark sounded almost happy.

The Troopers got moving to their next target.

“Hama, Jerome, your section’s on me, we’re splitting the platoon to hit more targets,” Mark said a few moments later, and they were sprinting on the platform, their weapons up and ready for threats to their front.

“Understood,” Jerome and Hama said.

“We’re working with four section, we’ll be splitting off from two and three with Mark,” Jerome said. Saying Warrant Mark sounded weird as hell.

Green lights came back on Jerome’s screen, his people were dialed in and on mission. Hama was on point, leading the way up the stairs.

“Blades if you can,” Mark said.

Jerome checked his blade, and Hama gained access to the lobby, same as the last one, except a bit bigger, and it was clear. Jerome still stayed to make sure they could exit.

There wasn’t any gunfire, just the noise of a charge going off and Hama’s section booking it back to Jerome. They merged, ran back to the tunnels and Jerome peeled after them.

For two more towers it went that way.

The third time, Jerome was on point.

He heard a noise in the lobby and readied his sword, preparing to take down the Chosen with a quick execution. As he turned the corner, he found Chosen sleeping, eating and hanging out around their powered armor units, which were stuck into charging cradles.

The Chosen seemed to look at him in alarm; his armor was different to theirs and his name was carved into his breastplate, not something the Chosen did.

“Contact,” Jerome yelled, hugging the wall and opening fire.

Dooks took over, getting people into firing positions on the access point into the lobby. It was a slaughter. Hama moved around the back of Jerome, moving to the other access to the lobby, closer to the stairs that would lead to the bunker.

They ran into the lobby, firing at the Chosen. Already Jerome’s section’s fire was slackening, and the Chosen were dead or dying.

“Dooks, get a detail together, start hauling those things towards the bunker, then lock the thing down once Hama’s done,” Mark said.

Hama showed some red contacts, but a few bursts of weapon fire and they were no more. Jerome had four of his section on security, the other six were helping Dooks grab powered armor, tossing it to one another and into the bunker.

PACs showed up, and got hosed by Jerome’s people on watch.

It seemed to call the bloodhounds, as more charged down the halls. Jerome’s people didn’t stop firing as they concentrated their fire, only shifting targets when their tracers were rattling around the first targets’ armor.