Osdal (Harmony War Series Book 3)

by Michael Chatfield

  “Sergeants and higher link in,” Lieutenant Sook said. “We’ve got word from higher, apparently the city is getting coated in some kind of toxin that shouldn’t affect Troopers, but will kill Chosen just fine.”

  “If it’s all the same, ma’am, I’m going to order my people keep their armor shut unless they’re wounded,” Mark said.

  “Agreed. Now, this shit is supposed to kill the Chosen if they breathe it in. If we see a break in their ranks I want us to be ready to move. We don’t have the supplies to hold out for more than a few hours, it’s now or never. We might be able to get some shuttles to rush us out of here, but we need to book it, because our lives very much depend on this one shot. Get your sections together, I want a situation report and be ready to run if you need to. If that means leaving behind compromised armor, do it. You have five minutes, be ready to move after then.”

  Jerome cut off the channel and quickly passed on the message to his section.

  They started up tests on their armor, reported ammunition levels and Master Corporal Ko checked them over one by one.

  Jerome saw Mark stepping out of his powered armor, and saw he was still wearing his plate armor underneath. How the large man had done it Jerome didn’t know.

  It looked like a number of people had done it, and those with armor but functional PA gave it to Troopers without both. Ammunition was drained from the broken powered Armor’s ammunition packs, divided up to the other units. It looked like Zukic’s two platoon would be taking point on this one, getting the majority of the ammunition and moving into position around the cryo-pods entrance.

  ***

  Ortiz’s plan was simple: take half of his people and insert them into different floors by Combat Shuttle. Sometime they were lucky and they had landing pads, otherwise they had to make their own.

  They targeted floors with the least amount of activity based on what they could see on the city’s sensors.

  The Troopers secured the floor and headed up and down.

  The Chosen, whose people were dying all around them, would now be fighting on multiple sides, with the Troopers using the shock of the Chosen’s friends dying to take them unprepared. It was a good plan, one that used the toxin’s physical and psychological effects and capitalized on them.

  Yet Ortiz couldn’t help but feel dirty using such tactics. He knew it would work to some degree, yet it was a terrible thing to do and a tactic he hoped to never use again.

  His mind cast back to Sacremon, and he shook his head to clear those thoughts. He needed to be in the present, thinking of past battles wouldn’t help him. He could deal with his morality and nightmares later. He needed to win control of Mining City Twenty-One.

  “The Combat Shuttles are coming in with the supplies now. We have fire bases set up in the majority of towers, at least two per tower, not including original insertion points,” one of the aides rattled off, and Ortiz’s tired mind took a moment to conjure up his name. Botsuei.

  “Good,” Ortiz said, nodding and looking back at the hologram which showed the entire colony city. Slivers of green were growing up and down red towers, showing the Troopers’ growing area of control.

  They had the Chosen reeling from the sudden attacks and they were pressing forward with everything they had. It had been an hour since the toxin had hit.

  “How are the Troopers in the basement doing?” Ortiz asked.

  “They’re holding out, Lieutenant Sook has them preparing to push through the PAC blockade force and attempt a rescue,” Skovgaard said.

  “Thinks on her feet, good. Have a flight of Combat Shuttles ready and waiting to cover them, or haul them out. Make sure the Combat Shuttle crews know the risks,” Ortiz said.

  “Yes sir.” Skovgaard got back to working her holograms.

  Ortiz put his hands behind his back, hiding them from the aides as he squeezed his thumb nervously.

  So this is what you were talking about, hating watching the whole damned battle. It does feel like you’re just throwing darts into a hurricane, hoping that some of them even come close to hitting the dartboard, Ortiz thought of conversations he’d had with Nerva.

  Ortiz would give anything to be down with his Troopers, fighting on the front lines, instead of watching it on holograms, knowing all too well that his decisions could send people to their deaths while he shared little of that risk.

  ***

  Mark rolled his shoulders and moved his head from side to side. He was wearing his powered armor’s helmet, and the thing wasn’t the best, but it was better than running outside without one.

  It had been two hours since they had checked their gear and prepared to escape. A PAC had fallen over earlier, and more of them were falling and none of them were currently firing down the hall.

  Sook had passed warning orders, waiting to make sure it wasn’t a hoax, and then placing a call to the Combat Shuttles.

  “Two platoon, followed by one and three,” Lieutenant Sook said.

  Zukic’s platoon rushed past one platoon, who were covering the entrance to the cryo-bunker.

  His people made it to the stairwell and continued on, their sensors were being relayed back to the other people in the company.

  No red halos appeared out of thin air and one platoon moved to follow.

  “Well, let’s not get left behind,” Mark said after one platoon disappeared up the stairs.

  The large room before the stairwell was covered in bodies, and he didn’t touch the floor on his way to the stairwell. It was even worse. Thankfully one and three platoon had shoved bodies and dead PACs out of the way.

  Most of them didn’t even have a mark on their armor. Mark saw a few Chosen without powered armor, and their faces smoked lightly. He saw one person’s cave in. It looked like their bodies were dissolving from the inside.

  Mark’s platoon was halfway up the stairwell when two platoon came under contact.

  “We’ve got PACs that were hiding in the tower. They look to be healthy, probably not part of the original guys attacking us,” Zukic said, and Mark sped his pace up as red halos appeared on his HUD.

  Mark came out into the middle of a firefight. One platoon was on the second floor of the lobby, two was on the first. Both were engaged with PACs hiding in cover and their earlier confidence was gone.

  The Repulsor fire was sure to keep their heads down as tracers stitched holes in whatever walls and surfaces were left.

  Mark felt the Combat Shuttles before he heard them over the weapons fire. Air swept in through the opening shutters to the lobby.

  “Three move it!” Sook yelled, and Mark saw that she was on the first floor, side by side with her Troopers, firing into the PACs.

  “Wounded and one section first, two and three on the second shuttle, fourth with me on the last.” He kept the channel open with Haas so he could coordinate the remaining lifts.

  The shutters opened all the way and two shuttles were waiting, a third settling down. Two more shuttles rushed overhead, firing on the surrounding towers, missiles sending fireballs through buildings and auto cannons rolling fire echoing through the city.

  The first shuttle barely had the last person up the ramp before it headed off, and the second followed moments later.

  Mark followed the rest of his platoon onto the last shuttle. It rubbed him the wrong way to be on the last shuttle, but someone had to leave first.

  The shuttles sped off and he looked at the tactical screens. One was pulling back to the first floor, two was pulling back to the entrance to the lobby. They kept up their fire on the enemy the entire time, their tracer fire lighting up the night.

  ***

  “Two platoon, you’re next!” Haas barked.

  “Understood!” Zukic replied.

  A Combat Shuttle’s engines could be heard behind Tyler, and dust and crap messed up his powered armor’s night vision.

  They were now at the outside of the lobby, firing in.

  Tyler saw two platoon rushing off onto three shuttles that wer
e waiting for them. More Combat Shuttles were holding position above, their weaponry making anyone moving around regret their decision.

  “Close support!” Sook said, moments before two missiles streaked through the lobby’s two story windows, detonating inside.

  The Troopers’ fire slacked as they looked for PA that had survived that onslaught. If they had, they weren’t brave enough to put their heads out.

  The shutters to the lobby closed. PACs rounds sparked as they hit the armored shutters.

  The last of two platoon’s shuttles took off, the first of one platoon’s touching down.

  “Ali, Waz, first Combat Shuttle, Alexis, Dashtund second,” Tyler said.

  The platoon ran for the shuttles. Some enterprising assholes must have sensed it was their last opportunity to hit the Troopers and opened fire on the shuttles.

  Some thirty Repulsors and four Combat Shuttles opened fire on the offenders, ripping the tower’s facades apart.

  “Move!” Tyler barked, as sections swarmed into the two remaining Combat Shuttles.

  Tyler was the last in, holding onto the overhead netting Combat Shuttle as it took off, the ramp coming up as they climbed into the air. For a few moments Tyler thought he might fall out the back of the shuttle, then the ramp shut, cutting off the rushing wind outside. Tyler sank into a chair, sighing.

  He looked over the list of dead and wounded. Five Troopers had died in their exit, including Holm.

  There were no whoops or cheers in the Combat Shuttle as they left Mining City Twenty-One and headed for the maintenance pad.

  ***

  It had taken two nerve-wracking days, but the Troopers that had been seeded throughout the occupied towers had linked up with the Troopers above them.

  Ortiz sat down in what had been someone’s living room. There was garbage everywhere, the view screen had bullet holes in it and the bathroom was open to the hallway where Troopers were wandering around or taking a seat like Ortiz.

  He’d seen what the biological weapon had done to the Chosen. The toxin had turned to an acid inside their systems and melted their innards.

  In the end it had come down to three decisions for the powered armor wearing Chosen: either they suffocated in their armor, they opened it and died from the toxin, or they ran at the Troopers and got cut down.

  Many had gone with the second option, thinking that they were immune or that what had happened to their friends wouldn’t happen to them. The smart ones charged the Troopers. It was the least painful of all the options.

  Already techs and armorers were swarming the city, dumping out Chosen bodies and using the exoskeletons to install their upgrades.

  There were 47 Cities on Osdal Actual, and all but nine were under the control of the EMF. Osdal Three had been cleared, with only a company staying behind to make sure none of the Chosen emerged from the forests.

  Three processing stations still had Chosen in them.

  Ortiz let his head fall backwards and sighed. His body hurt to his very bones, fatigue seeping through every fiber of his being.

  Chapter 62

  Tower

  Earth, Sol System

  10/3267

  Nivad looked over from the reports that dominated his screen. There were unfiltered views coming straight from the battlefield, most of which the paying customer would never get to see. Well, Nivad was thinking of selling a special highlight reel once the war was done.

  It would probably pay quite well and serve as a reminder for those that thought about pushing off the company partnerships that owned the planets they lived on.

  “You called?” Dalia asked, closing the door behind her.

  “Yes, I want orders sent to the carriers in Osdal. Leave one behind to deal with the remaining Harmony forces, the rest are to move on to Fernix. Have them take the powered armor that they need. They are to modify the armor while travelling to Fernix,” Nivad said.

  “Yes sir, I will have the orders sent within the hour.” She made to leave.

  “Also, make it clear that if they are to capture any of the ships that left Osdal for Fernix, they will be rewarded with a third of what the ship and its cargo earns at auction,” Nivad said.

  Realization dawned in Dalia’s eyes and she smiled. “I will make a point of that with them.”

  Nivad smiled as she left.

  The carriers were faster than the freighters by a large margin. If they left soon enough, then they might be able to catch up with the freighters from the last five years, only giving Fernix 12 years of Osdal’s processed materials instead of 17.

  It would also put all of those freighters under the control of Nivad, to be auctioned off to whoever had the credits for the cargo and ship.

  Chapter 63

  Mining City Twenty-One

  Osdal Actual, Osdal System

  10/3267

  Tyler looked at CSM Haas in confusion. It had been three days since they had escaped Mining City Twenty-One’s Central Tower.

  Their armor had been charged, serviced and given back to them. They’d pulled new weapons and ammo, and eaten, slept and prepared for their next mission.

  “We’re going to the carriers?” Tyler asked, stunned.

  “Orders from on high. They want us in Fernix as soon as possible. We control most of Osdal Actual, the processing stations and OsdalThree. EMFC Avenger will stay behind to clear the remaining Chosen, and make sure that there isn’t a resurgence in the system,” Haas said.

  “It just feels wrong, leaving the bastards running around while we head off for Fernix,” Jerome said.

  “There are just a few cities left; as long as they armor up and hit them one by one then they should be fine, it’ll be just like Sacremon was for us,” Mark said.

  Not many people looked happy.

  “Have your people ready to move in two hours, we’re going to be berthing on the carrier Dauntless,” Haas said.

  “We staying together?” Tal asked.

  “No, we’re getting split up to spread the pool of our knowledge to the other Troopers on the carrier. Hope is that we can help them get past the BM and turn them into real Troopers.” Haas sounded tired.

  Chapter 64

  EMFC Dauntless

  Osdal Actual, Osdal System

  10/3267

  It seemed like they had barely sat down at the maintenance pad when they were being ordered to board Combat Shuttles that were going to take them up the EMFC Dauntless, their new home.

  Fearless was going to be home for most of the people from Reclaimer. Ortiz, and those in the regiment under his command, were being pulled apart and sowed throughout Dauntless’ Troopers.

  They were filling their gaps, and the hope was that they could pass their training on.

  To the Troopers it all happened in a blur. Mark was sent to the medics, and he got the full go-over as a number of people tried to remove his scars. The quickly found themselves forcibly ejected from his stall.

  Those scars were his memories, a way to never forget his past.

  They all took Nerva’s death hard, but they understood why Ortiz had kept it from them. He was as close to a father figure as they had got. He had helped them all become the people that they were now.

  In five days, they went from breaking out of Mining City Twenty-One’s central tower to being on the carrier with leave, their armor and supplies following on as they waited to be sent out into the abyss towards their next fight in Fernix.

  Mark was quickly making his way through a bottle of liquor. It was the second day he had been on leave. The past two days he’d drank himself to sleep, but the nightmares still found him, and in the morning the hangover made him forget all about them.

  He’d gone to the mess early and started his day off right, with a good ole bottle of booze.

  He had a nice buzz going on when Alexis walked over and took a seat in the chair opposite.

  ***

  “Hey sis,” Mark said, sitting back in his chair and taking a long swig of the bottle in his
hands.

  “Hey Mark, you okay?” she asked, not knowing how to ask the question any other way.

  The way he looked at her made her wince. He didn’t try to hide his emotions with that much drink in him. There was hatred and sadness there.

  “You tell me,” he said, his voice hot as he took another angry drink, looking away.

  “Well, tell me what’s going on inside that thick skull of yours.” She cared for Mark, he had looked out for her more than once, and he was part of hers and Tyler’s family.

  He drank, silent for a long time as if remembering something.

  “I met this girl called Caroline in the camp,” Mark said, still staring off into space.

  He laughed, a real smile on his face as he remembered something, then he took another drink as if to drown that memory.

  “She looked after me, taught me what happens in the camp, taught me what to do and, and she was nice,” Mark said, his words failing him. He looked at Alexis, tears in his eyes and a sad smile on his face.

  Oh shit, she thought, her heart breaking as she saw the one emotion she had only seen on her wedding day on his face: unconditional love.

  “She didn’t care that I was a fighter, or a killer, and when I got the nightmares she crawled in closer and soothed my worries away. She cared for me.” He laughed and shook his head, blinking rapidly, tears falling down his cheeks as he took another swill.

  “I protected her, looked out for her, and we would talk. She was as broken as me and I couldn’t care less. I never saw her face, just her eyes and this scar running across her face, called it a promise. A promise to avenge her family. She didn’t tell me the real reason was because she was so pretty she was scared about those fucking animals getting to her.” Mark’s hand tightened on the bottle. He took a few moments to calm down before forcing two mouthfuls of liquor back. He wiped some on his shirt that fell on his chin.

  “She was the one that patched me up after I got dragged across the fucking desert. The Chosen saw, and when everything started to go to shit with those videos and Castillo blowing his brains out, they came for me again. Probably wanted to finish off what they’d started with towing me behind their air car,” Mark laughed, a harsh noise to Alexis’ ears.