Earth (Harmony War Book 5)

by Michael Chatfield

  Hall looked the plan over. “Unconventional, crazy, and downright dangerous.” He flipped through a few more pages. “Approved.”

  “Thank you, sir,” Yeltsin smiled.

  We’re coming, just hold out for a bit longer, Troopers. Hall gripped his armrests as if he could will the carriers on faster.

  Chapter 80

  Mega City

  Earth, Sol System

  8/3349

  The sight in front of Fusaro was barely recognizable from what he had seen just weeks ago.

  The cermite was pitted and cratered and Chosen lay all over the ground. You could walk from the towers the Chosen had held to the front of the citadel without touching the Earth’s surface.

  On one of the other sides, a Repulsor fired like a buzz saw.

  Fusaro nearly jumped backwards but kept his composure, studying the vehicles that lay across the square, and the mangled weapons in the planters.

  The trenches were rubble filled divots, covered in bodies from both sides.

  A Screamer ripped out of the Chosen towers to strike the barricades in the citadel’s lobby. Repulsor fire was already hitting the source of the missile before it impacted.

  The barricades were cratered and badly damaged, with spray-ite showing through here and there where repairs had been made. Slits showed Repulsor turrets searching for targets.

  “We have no more trucks or vehicles nearby. The snipers and gunners on the upper floors of the citadel are still contested. We’ve driven them from their trenches, but they still have their barricades. How much can our Heavies depress?” Fusaro asked.

  “Depress?” one of the aides asked, confused.

  “Point down,” Fusaro amended.

  “About ten degrees.”

  “Find out angles. Get Heavies on the upper floors, have them aimed at the three floors of the citadel. Don’t have them at the edge, but ready on movable surfaces. When I give the say so, I want them in position and firing down on the Troopers,” Fusaro said, looking at the PAC leader.

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Good, go,” Fusaro urged, dismissing the woman.

  “Those lines that the Troopers used to get from one position to another; get me those cords and get me someone good with engineering. Go search the buildings and find me an air-car or vehicles. I need twenty or so. Slow down firing of Screamers on the Troopers. I want people sent out to Combat Shuttle crash sites. Bring me their countermeasure pods, the flares. Have our people fed, get them out of their armor and relaxed. We’ll move in four days.” Fusaro looked from the building to his people.

  “I am sorry that I have failed, general,” Baashir said.

  “You got further than I ever hoped. I am impressed. When we get into the citadel, I will allow you to lead the charge.”

  “Yes, sir. I am not worthy, but I will not deny the great honor,” Baashir said, lowering his head. “For the sake of Harmony.”

  “For the sake of Harmony,” Fusaro and the others repeated.

  “Now, let’s end this war,” Fusaro said, staying low as he moved away from the citadel and through the broken and burned tower.

  Chapter 81

  Citadel

  Earth, Sol System

  8/3349

  “I don’t like it,” Jerome said as he and Alexis looked out over the battlefield that had been citadel’s square.

  “The Chosen are off cooking up a plan to try and destroy us. What’s not to like?” Alexis said.

  “Real optimist aren’t you?” Jerome looked at her.

  “I get it from my fellow Victors,” she smiled, punching his shoulder.

  Jerome shook his head side to side before nodding. “You may have a point.”

  “So, what the fuck are they up to?” Dominguez asked, walking over.

  “Hello, sunshine,” Jerome greeted her.

  “Sit on it,” Dominguez said, flipping him the bird.

  Jerome laughed.

  If you can’t laugh, then you cry.

  They tapped arms in greeting.

  “No idea, but Moretti seems to have more information than us, we’ve got that briefing in a few hours,” Alexis said.

  “What else is new?” Dominguez drawled.

  “I’m out of chew and Mark swears he doesn’t have any,” Jerome said.

  “Oh, that’s a lie and we all know it. Hell, I can’t think of you without dip. How the shit you screw that one up?” Dominguez said.

  “I like the tabacca,” Jerome said, affecting an accent that was as terrible as it wasn’t southern.

  “Holy shit, I think I just lost brain cells,” Alexis cringed.

  “Fuck, it’s that Victor influence,” Dominguez shook her head sadly.

  “Hey!” Alexis said, pushing Dominguez who broke into a grin.

  “Well, at least Mark lost half of his armor. You didn’t lose an inch and you’re all out,” Dominguez said.

  “Oh, he probably left a tin in his armor. Good deductive skills there, Dominguez,” Jerome said, narrowing his eyes in thought.

  “You take my chew and I’ll put my boot in your ass,” Mark growled as he walked down the line.

  Jerome saw more than one Trooper laugh or shake their head.

  “So you do have chew,” Jerome said, a big grin on his face.

  “No,” Mark said, stopping walking as if he wasn’t sure if he was about to walk into something unexpected.

  “Come on, just one tin,” Jerome begged.

  “You go through a tin in an hour,” Mark said.

  “So? You and Ortiz do as well.”

  “So go bug Ortiz.”

  “Urgh, come on, he’s all like generally and stuff,” Jerome complained, living it up as the Troopers listened in.

  Mark sighed and pulled out a tin, opened it and put in a chew. He closed it and tossed it to Jerome.

  “Don’t say I don’t give you nothing,” Mark spat on the ground.

  “With those new limbs you’ll get one hell of a head buzz,” Jerome said.

  “Screw you, bro, screw you,” Mark replied, flipping the bird and continuing on his inspection of the barricade.

  “You wish,” Jerome said to his back.

  “You are terrible,” Alexis sighed.

  Jerome winked, opening his armor so he could pack a chew.

  “Little bit of a laugh will settle even the most nervous Trooper,” Dominguez said, looking around.

  Sure enough, the Troopers were talking and relaxing. They were alert, but not to the point where it took all of their attention. If they were needed, they could react. Being tense all the time would only tire them out for when they were needed.

  Whatever the hell they’re going to be needed for.

  Jerome didn’t admit it, but it seemed that whoever had been commanding the Troopers’ advance had taken over once again. The replacement commander had pushed the Troopers back, though Jerome didn’t know if it would be enough to stop their real commander.

  He spat on the floor. “Let’s get to that briefing. I for one want to know what the hell the Chosen are up to.”

  Chapter 82

  Freighter 37EF8X45

  ​Earth, Sol System

  8/3349

  Jump space faded away as Nerva stood in the command center of the disguised ship. To scanners and the eyes, it would look like a freighter.

  Only when one went inside would they see that things were not how they appeared. The Legions and Roma made sure that they were never inspected and their scans only showed a freighter filled with goods.

  People hurried to do their jobs, and none of them knew what Legate Nerva himself was in the command center for. Hell, none of them knew why the hell he wanted to go to Earth.

  “You’re making them nervous,” NIDenise said.

  “If it makes us move faster, I’ll get out and damn well push,” Nerva spat back. His people were down there, the closest thing he had to family. They might survive the Chosen and Harmony, but the hit by General Jones was active and the assassins were lurking
around to make sure that the Victors died on Earth.

  Nerva wouldn’t wade into the war, but he would sure as hell wade in to warn them about a threat they didn’t know about.

  “We’re two months from reaching Earth at our best speed,” the centurion of the ship said.

  “Good, I hope that it is smooth sailing. I have reports to see to,” Nerva said. He might yell at his NIAI, but he didn’t want to step on toes. If the centurion of the ship hinted that it might be a better idea to be somewhere else, Nerva would listen to the advice.

  Even if I want to set up a cot and watch the main screen as Earth gets bigger on the view-screen.

  Chapter 83

  Citadel

  Earth, Sol System

  8/3349

  “Alright, let’s get into it,” Moretti said, rubbing his face. He’d been sleeping only when he was so tired that he couldn’t sit without passing out.

  He felt wrinkles he swore hadn’t been there just a week ago. A command to his implants showed an image behind him as he looked at the weary but alert officers that were crowded into the conference room.

  “Seems that the old commander has taken back over from the more bomb-centric leader. Hopefully this means less bombs in our future. Though it also looks like things are going to get more difficult. They’ve been scavenging a lot,” Moretti sent a new command and the screen showed Chosen over a Combat Shuttle, and gathering zip-line cable.

  “They are collecting anything they can use: vehicles, air-cars, high tensile strength wire, plasma cutters, and pulling Combat Shuttles apart. Lieutenant Yu, if you’d tell them about the Combat Shuttles,” Moretti said, waving to the lieutenant wearing Trooper armor.

  “It looks like they’re pulling the countermeasure modules, the flares that screw weapons targeting. If they can get them working, then they’ll have an effective moving flash bang, that’ll screw up most targeting systems. Each pod lasts for forty seconds, but they have twenty charges in them. I don’t know how many Combat Shuttles went down or how many pods survived, though it looks like the Chosen have enough pods to blind us for a few minutes,” Yu said.

  “What will it do to our Powered Armor’s imaging?” Ortiz asked.

  “Fuck it royally. It’s meant to screw with electronics. The helmets have so many sensors that it would be best to just turn them the hell off and use your eyes to watch what’s going on. Even that’s going to be a bitch, because it shoots off actual flares, which are bright as shit. While we’re being blinded, if the Chosen are behind them, they’ll be fine. They’re directional, so being in front of them will fuck you, and any sensors, up. If you’re close enough.”

  “So they’ve got an effective smoke screen; what about the air-cars, what are they going to do, put PACs into the upper levels?” Tyler asked.

  “I thought that first of all, but there aren’t enough and they’re so damned thin they might as well be paper,” Moretti said.

  “So what, they going to mount the flares to the air-cars?” Jerome asked, looking around.

  Moretti and Yu looked at one another.

  “That’s what we think,” Yu shrugged.

  “What about these cars, they filling them with bombs?” Ortiz asked.

  “We don’t know; we think that some of them are. We can deal with that. What I’m more interested in is the hulks and broken vehicles that they’re hauling up and into the towers,” Moretti said.

  “What?” Mark looked confused.

  “I have no idea what in the fuck they’re doing, but they’re making collections of heavy stuff on the second or third floors, welding it together and leaving it there,” Moretti shrugged.

  “Well it ain’t good, can tell you that for free,” Shultz sighed. The officers nodded and agreed.

  “They setting up the zip lines to get across the square?” Tyler asked.

  “That’s what we think, be fast, deploy their forces quick,” Moretti said.

  “With the flares they’ll be hard to see,” Yu added.

  “So be prepared for them to be right on our barricades without so much as a by-your-leave,” Ortiz said.

  “If that’s the case then we have to be ready to pull back from the first barricades at a moment’s notice,” Mark said, his eyes hard as he held his chin with his left hand.

  “Even if they get to the barricades, there’s no certainty they’ll take them,” Major Uleyov said.

  “These fuckers are good with explosives and they have grenades. If I was them, I’d get to the barricades and start tossing grenades like they’re candy,” Mark said, looking at the other major.

  “Fuck,” Uleyov sighed, nodding in agreement.

  “Well, if they get to our barricades, then we should make it a point to say, hello,” Ortiz said, looking pleased with himself. “We’ll stab them through the barricades with the vibra-blades.”

  Moretti saw a few people wince at the terrible pun.

  “Sir, please, never ever try to make another joke,” Moretti implored.

  “Bunch of critics,” Ortiz said gruffly, sitting back in his seat.

  Moretti grinned at the general’s antics, and other officers were hiding their amusement behind their hands and coughing.

  “What about those launchers?” Jerome asked.

  “The missile pod launchers?”

  “Yeah, have we tried reloading them?” Jerome said, the whole room focusing.

  “Don’t think so, they got pretty screwed up,” Yu said.

  “We got any in good condition? If the Chosen are fixing up for a good fight, then they might not be paying attention. If those countermeasures are close enough to us, maybe they won’t screw up targeting if we landed a few missiles behind them. We’re also going to need all the artillery we have to fuck the Chosen up as they make their play,” Jerome said.

  “I want everyone to work in their Forces. Figure out what you would do with the resources that the Chosen have, and game it out how we can defend against them. We don’t have long, but let’s see that we’re as prepared as can be,” Ortiz said.

  Moretti didn’t think that he’d be making up any of the sleep he’d been missing for the last few months.

  Chapter 84

  Mega City

  Earth, Sol System

  8/3349

  Fusaro looked over the preparations, the guns were in place.

  The Chosen’s defeated looks were gone, they were fed, rested, and ready. Fusaro made a point of having himself and Baashir tour around the Chosen, raise their spirits, and point out something to show that they knew what they were doing and reassure the Chosen.

  They might be people with a cause, but they were still human. They had lost so many people. Only their cause and knowing that there was nowhere to run to kept them together. And, with Fusaro and Baashir walking around working with them, it tied them to the cause more firmly than before.

  “Okay, I think it’s time that we started,” Fusaro said, as the sun climbed on the ninth day since they’d started working. It had taken longer than Fusaro expected, but he was in no rush. The better his people were prepared, the higher the chance of getting into the citadel.

  “Baashir, give the order to begin the operation.” Fusaro stood in his Powered Armor in the staging area where Chosen were waiting with the tools and weapons they would need shortly.

  Vehicles started moving forward, building up speed. Moments later, the Heavy machine guns that had been trained on the Troopers’ first three floors opened fire. Trooper Repulsors fired back as the vehicles crossed into the square. The countermeasures went off. A few Screamers hit them as the Heavies kept the Troopers’ heads down.

  “Go, go, go!” Fusaro yelled. PACs took off at a run.

  They hesitated, ready to jump into cover as the Troopers fired from their barricades. It was clear that they couldn’t see past the vehicles that were around the citadel, blasting the entire building with flares and electronic countermeasures.

  PACs were cut down here and there as a lucky Trooper caught t
hem with Repulsors. Fusaro glanced at the citadel; hundreds of Repulsors were firing, combing the area with thousands of rounds.

  A mass of black armored PACs crawled forward inch by inch, doing anything to advance.

  Fusaro was pulled back as Repulsor rounds pinged on the wall that he had been beside.

  There was a familiar whoosh and Fusaro’s eyes went wide, looking at Baashir who had pulled him back.

  “When the fuck did they get those things back online?” Fusaro demanded as the first Combat Shuttle missile struck the square.

  Fusaro looked, seeing that a countermeasure had failed. The Troopers’ fire quickly cut down any Chosen that were standing and working on the ones in cover.

  “Alexandria, get some Heavies on those fucking missile pods!” Fusaro shouted.

  “Sir!” Alexandria, the leader that he had put in charge of the Heavies, had her gunners firing on the missile pods in seconds.

  The missile pods seemed to sense that they were about to be destroyed, and fired everything they had. More impacts shook the towers as the missiles tried to get behind the vehicles and screw the countermeasures up.

  Here and there, the cover was broken. The Chosen got behind cover or nearby countermeasures, and moved forward. The unlucky ones were cut down by Repulsors.

  The first Chosen reached the Trooper lines and Fusaro almost jumped in joy.

  Grenades started going off as the PACs tossed in their charges. Others pulled the zip lines that they had carried and bolted them to the barricade.

  As soon as they were secured, PACs jumped on the lines and rushed towards the barricades.

  One or two failed, dropping some PACs, but only one unlucky bastard died by landing on their armored helmet.

  The line was re-bolted and the next people went down at a slower pace.

  More grenades were going off behind the barricades, killing the Chosen stacked behind them.

  The fuck? Fusaro thought, looking at it as PACs cried out in pain and dropped to the ground screaming.

  He watched the walls, and saw a flash of silver.

  They’re using vibra-blades, sticking them through the barricade and hitting the PACs!

  “Where we’ve got grenades in, get the plasma torches set up. The Troopers are stabbing through the barricades. We need to get inside. Have the Chosen ready to fight in close combat,” Fusaro ordered.