The Combat Shuttle roared into the city, cutting past towers that got ever taller in their spiral up to the central tower.
The missile racks ripple fired as Yu got a firing solution with his auto cannons. Missiles ripped into one floor, tearing the windows apart and sending plumes of fire out of the opposite side and up through the different stairwells. Auto cannon rounds ripped into the floor above. Yu didn’t see if they hit anything but he knew if they did they were nothing but mangled armor and pink mist. More missiles hit the lower floors. Yu banked and dropped, cutting his forward speed, and throwing everyone into their harnesses. Their attack run seemed to bring every heavy machine gun in the city onto their tail.
Yu’s racks read as empty and his ammunition was getting low, so he pulled out of Mining City Twenty-One low and fast, tilting his nose upwards, and turning down the power on his engines.
“Prepare for vacuum,” he warned. The adrenaline still rushing through his veins as his crew moved to make sure that the Combat Shuttle was good for vacuum.
“Sealed up tight, good run,” Bobbie said agreeing with Yu’s choice to disregard orders and fly a fire mission.
“Looking good, engines are a bit warm. Hope it was enough,” Young said.
“So do I,” Yu looked at the glass as the front of the shuttle started to turn into a white cone of water vapor and then the meteor-like appearance that came with entering and exiting atmosphere.
A few seconds later and that fell away, and the sounds of atmosphere disappeared. He followed Young’s flight plan back to Fearless.
“Ah shit,” Yu said, the adrenaline coming back as his hands danced and his legs moved, shifting the shuttle out of a debris cloud. One of those objects in the wrong engine port or intake and they would all be having a very bad day. “The hell is all of this?”
“Broken up shuttles, sensors, missile platforms, Reclaimer’s, you name it, it’s all coming down. I’m linked into sensors and tracking the worst. We’re going to have to go slow and steady so we don’t hit anything bad, the rest of the stuff will just bounce off,” she reassured Yu.
“The fuck is that?” Bobbie asked as a piece of debris hit the side of the shuttle. Without air, they didn’t hear it as much as feel it through the decking.
They continued on their path heading for Fearless. It was going to take them some time, but they would be back soon enough.
***
Mark moved through the PACs with adrenaline in his veins and hate in his heart. He was alive, this was where he belonged, killing the bastards that had taken Caroline from him. The bastards that had done that to an entire fucking planet.
He was hammered and beat on, but he didn’t care, all of them died under his rounds or by his blade.
The alarms went off everywhere as the Combat Shuttle auto cannon’s fire tore through the area between the Troopers in the cafeteria and the Troopers Mark was fighting beside.
The rounds cut down the PACs in droves, leaving fist-sized holes in their armor.
Then the missiles hit, and the glass that had survived seemed to explode through the level.
Rumbling explosions could be heard and felt through the floor on the level below.
Mark felt his stomach drop as he saw whole sections of the floor give way and then felt himself falling.
Mark let his legs take the impact. The entire level was a smoldering mess. Black smoke was pouring out of the level. The missiles had blown the windows out and tossed everything that wasn’t bolted down or part of the structure out of them or across the level in a chaotic mess.
Mark slammed his sword into the ground, turning off its vibrating function so it didn’t eat its way through.
He pulled up his Repulsor, moving under all that debris was powered armor, and he saw more of the bastards coming up the stairwells and other access points.
Mark fired on them, his stream of tracers throwing the PACs backwards. Other PA Troopers with him added their fire into the mix, stopping other PACs getting through different access points.
Troopers not wearing armor started jumping down, laying in the rubble and on the remainder of the floor, firing on the PA. Here they had the advantage. Screamers ripped into those that were now getting to their feet. The Combat Shuttle had stunned the PACs and given the Troopers what they needed: room.
Up close, the PACs’ strength could cave in a Trooper’s helmet, far away and they had to close that distance. They were bigger targets that weren’t good with their weapons and didn’t have the training to reload their weapons in their Powered Armor.
Sure, they caught some Troopers by firing at everything with their metal storm, but the tides had turned. The PACs were now at the disadvantage and weapons fire could be brought down on them with impunity.
“We hold here,” Haas said.
Mark felt more powered armor dropping from the floor above. The tactical views of above looked a damned sight better, and the rest of the powered armor Troopers were now able to push forward without worrying about their rear guard.
“Spread out and concentrate on the access points,” Haas said.
“Just don’t fall off the edge,” Dashtund added.
“Dick,” Tal said, and Tyler laughed. Mark agreed with Tal, he fucking hated heights. He wanted to keep shooting the bastards coming up the stairs but there were three Repulsors covering his stairwell already. He moved close to the edge of the level, and kept away from where the edge had cratered under the missiles’ impact. It reminded him of Sacremon and the rebels fucking launchers. There was a rough circle of broken glass all around the missile impact area.
Hell, the fucking structure’s probably right fucked, thing’s probably going to fall and we’re all going to be fucked. Stop thinking of that shit Mark. Fuck, I swore the fucking floor was moving. He pushed his fears away, that’s what you did as a Trooper. You took your fears and you pushed them away into a tiny little box. You were the best of the best, no one was going to tell you different and you sure as hell didn’t want to show anyone else that.
Showing them that would be admitting that you weren’t a perfect warrior. Who doesn't want to be in a trench and know that the guy next to them is a killing machine, ready to lay down their life no matter what?
Though everyone knew everyone had their doubts and fears, they played on them. Not to expose them all the time, but to get them to work on them. The ability to push one’s boundaries was a good thing to have in a Trooper. So Mark got close to the edge, and laid down gingerly and slowly.
Fucking shit, that’s a long way down, he thought, looking at the rubble he’d pushed off of the edge, and it seemed to just keep on falling. He thought about the floor tilting and him falling, or his gun going and dragging him down.
He put the Repulsor’s bipod on the ground and lined up on an open stairwell which connected offices below to the floor he was on.
A PAC peeked up, and Mark sent a burst into them. He didn’t know if he’d killed the fucker or just made them duck back. He kept up his fire, making sure no one else came up through the hole.
Someone landed a grenade in the stairwell. Mark waited a few seconds before firing again. An enemy that couldn’t shoot back was effectively useless. He just hoped that they didn’t start blowing holes in the floor again.
He fired bursts, one eye looking for movement, the other looking at Mining City Twenty-One beyond the smashed up glass front of the tower.
Combat Shuttles moved through the city, coming in to land on rooftop landing pads, their weapons ripping into the towers. Firefights were punctuated by explosions ripping out of towers. It only went to show how this was a war, not some simple rebellion.
All of the might of the EMF was pitched against these bastards, and they were pushing back and pushing back hard. This was their home city in Osdal, and it had 100,000 Troopers dedicated to just it, and they were getting swarmed.
For the first time Mark was scared, not of dying or fucking up, but that they wouldn’t be able to kill them all. A
ll of their preparation and mayhem, and they were up against a military with on par or better gear. Sure they weren’t trained, but they were determined.
Mark hated them with a passion, but he didn’t let that hate blur his ability to analyze his enemy. He was wholly focused on killing Harmony, and putting the blinders on and running in would only fuck up his chances of killing more of the bastards.
If this is just their roadblock, what is Fernix and Housapel going to be like?
Chapter 55
Revival City
Housapel Prime Housapel System
8/3267
Peter Quinn walked from his office through his living quarters and to the separate area of his level that was dedicated to parties and meetings.
Bodyguards wearing powered armor made a loose square around him as he walked. People turned and looked, but only the most powerful in the crowd were able to approach and have a private word.
He seemed to be the perfect conversationalist, talking for only as long as necessary and leaving people wanting to talk to him again. He was cultured, smart and lovable. He looked like a prince, perfect teeth and hair and a blue suit that complemented his dusky tan and East Sector looks.
He was also the real head of Harmony.
He had looked over the reports of Osdal and they would lose the city, but they had taken down a carrier and the Troopers would be hit hard. The PAC weren’t as effective as they had hoped, due to their inability to reload their metal storm rifles. Quinn had already sent a message off to Hector, his military manager, to find a way to deal with this issue.
Hector and all of his staff were living with their eyes glued to the different readings and outputs coming from Osdal.
They had to learn all they could about the Troopers now, when they were already in Housapel it would be too late.
Staying in his office to look over the displays would make him look anxious, and with Harmony, everything was about looks. Make it look like a religious order that was pushing off the corporate hierarchy, instead of a hostile takeover, the likes of which had not been attempted before.
Peter felt a flush of enthusiasm run through him as he thought of what Nivad Selvra must be thinking of the whole thing.
Osdal was becoming a footnote in the war in Quinn’s eyes. It had served its purpose well, they had transported trillions of tons of pre-made materials to Housapel and Fernix, something that would have taken years to do in the systems were now coming express delivery. This allowed the two systems to concentrate on what they did have and work to build up a military that would defeat the EMF and then take its place.
Peter took an offered hand from a woman who had got way too close to him. She was complementing him on his home and the level where there were bedrooms, great large verandas, pools, hot tubs and all measures of entertainment.
Peter kissed her hand, looking up to her, she blushed and dimpled nicely, she as good at the seducing game as he.
“Come, let us greet some others,” Peter said, pulling her through the invisible barrier that the powered armor detail made.
“Oh Mister Quinn,” she said, her laugh making him smile even more. This was what he had dreamed of, being the center of it all. The master and purveyor of all. He was a natural orator, his looks were dashing, and he always achieved a greater output from his workers than other CEOs.
Those facts had made the higher CEOs keep a wary eye on their rising star, and cut his growth. They had pushed him onto Housapel and given him a mid-level management position.
“To have the CEO of Housapel as my date, this will cause quite the scandal,” she said into his ear.
Quinn smiled wider, he was liking this girl even more.
“Mister Quinn it is good to see you, have you been seeing Osdal recently, we’re pummeling those EMF dogs, right and good,” David Ramos, a beefy CEO, his bulk achieved from implants and augments rather than actual working out, said as Quinn passed, and he put his hand out.
“Yes, it is good to see such ability in our chosen. I think that Housapel’s own forces will put them to shame though, Hector has promised me that,” Quinn said, reassuring the man who had backed his rise to his position.
“It’s good to hear. I have been looking at the market, and you predicted the rise and fall precisely. Thank you for the information,” Ramos said.
“A favor for a dear friend,” Quinn said, looking into Ramos’s eyes and smiling. Cementing their bond was key in getting his further backing as he made his play for control of Earth and Her Colonies.
“If you will excuse me, I find I have a need to get a drink, and one for this fine lady as well,” Quinn said, indicating the lady beside him. His implants listed her as Dominique Choi.
“I wish you a good night Mister Quinn,” Ramos said, tilting his head and giving a knowing smile. He was a few decades older than Quinn but he identified him as his superior.
Quinn practically beamed as he glided away. Ramos picked up one of the two girls he’d come with, and she squealed in delight, the other saying things in his ear.
“A drink Miss Choi?” Quinn asked, walking to the bar. People greeted him, but this was the upper echelon; they saw that he was entertaining a lady and forwent any conversations, knowing it would be rude and looked on unfavorably.
A path cleared to the bar and the bartender came over with practiced grace.
“Most certainly Mister Quinn,” she said, putting her arm through his and pressing her body against his, alluding to the treats that hid under the silver dress which served to emphasize her figure and full assets.
“Two Scotch,” Quinn said.
“A Sex on the Beach might be more appropriate,” she said just to him, her voice low and husky.
Quinn’s eyes thinned in lust as he looked her over, and she didn’t flinch from his gaze but seemed to preen under it.
“I will have to take you up on that later, but first a little business.” He winked, the two drinks appearing.
Quinn took his glass and Dominique’s and handed it to her.
“I do love seeing a man in action,” she said sounding genuinely pleased.
Quinn clinked glasses with her and took a drink from his glass. The scotch was of the highest quality, direct from Earth and space aged.
He led her away from the bar and began working the various rooms, from the seating areas to around the theaters where people were watching Osdal. People loved to watch violence, and Quinn was no exception. Then they made their way through the buffets, greeting and talking to the higher crust of Harmony and Housapel’s society.
Chapter 56
Free City
Fernix Prime, Fernix System
8/3267
Omoti Akani cared less for parties and frivolities when he had work. He sat at his office, looking over the various reports coming in from across Fernix, they dictated where the materials coming from Osdal were going to go. They also showed the work schedules on various projects that were ongoing.
Fernix was the biggest manufacturer of large products in all of Earth and Her Colonies, she boasted over two billion humans, multiple factories and stations, shipyards and space based structures. Her one planet was turned into a pleasure planet with oceans, sandy beaches and was seeded with palm trees and other exotic life; everything except predators and mosquitoes lived there. It was if the old Caribbean had been supplanted onto the planet.
Towers dotted the larger islands, the smaller ones held advanced small homes for the wealthiest percent of people outside of Earth and Housapel. Fernix and Housapel were always competing to be the more powerful system.
Omoti Akani was a factory tech, he looked to streamline projects and production. He had lived in Housapel for many decades, closely with Peter Quinn, they were up and coming CEOs and they looked after one another. A favor here, a good word there. It was a beneficial partnership for both of them.
“Elliot, I want to have the revised schedule of the Housapel Factories and the numbers we’re pulling for the rail cannons.
I want to go over resource management and book a meeting with the research and development team for next week. They’re going to have plenty of data to go over from Osdal, I want to see what they have,” he said, using his implants to connect him to his third assistant that week.
“Yes sir,” the assistant said. Akani cut the channel and perused his reports some more. The assistant’s name wasn’t Elliot, but Akani wasn’t bothered with trying to find it out.
He glanced up from his enclosed deck, looking at the streaks of incoming and outgoing freighters and shuttles. Past them in the sky were the massive factories, stations and yards that kept Fernix going. The planet was a luxury, but space was where the real money was made.
He checked his personal accounts. Even though there was a war going on, there was always a way to play with the market if you had the right amount of money, it was Earth and Her Colonies. Though many called them Earth and her Companies.
Maybe when Peter’s in power we can rename it, Akani said. He had no illusion who would be the head of the EHC if they won. He liked being firmly in the shadows, helping to push Peter’s plans and get his just rewards.
His current account balance showed just how beneficial that had been already.
While people were using Harmony Tokens their credits had been transferred to the higher members of Harmony. The people didn’t care, they had a money that worked within their system.
Akani had a money that could be used to buy and trade stocks, and it could buy information from Earth.
There were few people that were willing to sell the kind of information that he had, but everyone had a price. Nivad Selvra was scary, but his rise to power was centuries in the past. He was weak, laden with power and unknowing of Harmony’s true face. Both Peter and Akani took more pleasure in that than intermediary fighting between the Chosen and Troopers. They, like Nivad, didn’t care about their fighters.
It was a numbers game to them, positioning and pushing their advantage where they could. It was the great game, the game of war, contracts and money.
Osdal (Harmony War Series Book 3) Page 27