“Yeah, you’re practically ancient,” Jerome said, grinning at Mark’s withering look.
“Jackass.”
“Takes one to know one.”
“Was wondering how long it was going to take you to get over that whole ‘back from the dead’ thing,” Mark said. He was annoyed at the stares. He was already stared at for his height or his perpetually angry frown.
But he had seen the respect in those that followed him. Now, his story had been passed around and he was constantly seeing people talking to one another in whispers and looking at him in awe.
“Ahhh, it makes sense. Even death wouldn’t want your ugly ass messing up the place,” Jerome said with a grin, slapping Mark’s shoulder.
Even though Jerome was joking Mark saw the look in Jerome’s eyes. It was the simple thankfulness he was alive.
“Well, he also seems to have taken my dip tin, got a lip?” Mark asked.
“You die once and now you think you can just take my dip all the time,” Jerome muttered, even as he pulled out a tin from his pocket.
Mark caught him looking at the tin oddly before handing it over. Mark didn’t draw attention to it, he just packed a lip and passed it back to Jerome.
“So, where we going next?”
“DM wants us to blow up an oxygen refilling station,” Mark said. Moretti was calling the shots for the scouts over Blue Moon. There were eight full Regiments that had been formed out of the best performers, people that could think on their feet no matter their rank.
Moretti was running the show, but he’d made it clear that Mark and Tyler were his ‘on the ground commanders’.
Mark was proud of the scouting Regiments, they were effective and made the Chosen’s lives hell.
“How heavily defended?” Jerome asked, moving to business as he tucked his tin away.
“Very. They’ve got heavy guns, PACs roaming , and there’s a ton of Chosen. DM wants us to paint the place with targeting lasers, call in fire, and confirm the facility is destroyed. We wait around for a week or so, see if anyone checks the area. If they do, we hit them with fire again,” Mark said.
“Simple enough, tag it up, let the Carriers hammer it, watch, wait, repeat,” Jerome said as they entered the armories. Mark and Jerome nodded to people in greeting but no one interrupted them. It was clear on their faces that they were working.
“Wish it was always that way, you hearing the same things as me about rounds?” Mark asked, grabbing his helmet off the shelf.
“You need to clean that damn thing, smells like a rat died in it,” Jerome said, grabbing his own helmet, and looking at Mark’s in disgust.
“Thanks, tips,” Mark said blinking rapidly after a good sniff of his helmet. “Fuck, that will clear your sinuses out.” Mark grabbed an aerosol of cleaner and sprayed the helmet.
“You nasty as fuck, dude.” Jerome shook his head, pulling out an empty fluid container and spitting into it. “Yeah, I’ve been hearing the same thing. We’ve got too many people, too many fights and not enough ammo. They’ve stopped even trying to make more screams, only the AMRs are getting the new rounds, as eighty percent of the Repulsor rounds are normal, with a few of the newer ones thrown in. It’s making life on the line hell.”
“Heard that there was nearly a breach three days ago,” Mark said throwing the aerosol back on its shelf and pulling his helmet on.
“Yeah, was a real fucking mess. The Combat Shuttles are conserving their missiles for the really bad stuff, and camp nine got hit pretty bad. Hall sent more Carriers over to the asteroid fields to move ammunition. More are moving to gather up the Harmony warships and strip them for materials,” Jerome switched to a private channel. “Also heard that Hall might be up-armoring the Carriers, if he can get away with it.”
Mark grabbed his AMR, making sure that there were no rounds in it.
“Well, that would be something. How the hell is he getting permission?” Mark asked, slapping in a magazine. Jerome did the same.
“Well, it’s always better to ask for forgiveness than permission,” Jerome said, trying to sound like a wise old man.
Mark snorted and laughed. “Too true.” The two of them ran to the airlock that would take them out into a warren of tunnels across the camp.
Chapter 58
EMFC Fearless
Fernix Prime’s Orbit, Fernix System
12/3295
Moretti was looking at the latest reports from the scouting Regiments. He didn’t know why they hadn’t been used before. They allowed him to get vital information and make assessments on the fly. There were currently thirty small groups all over Blue Moon watching targets, taking high ranking personnel out or searching out new targets of opportunity.
It allowed Moretti to make a good guess of what was happening in the Chosen camps and they were weary; the Troopers had made sure to make them scared, every moment of every day. They hit them without warning from above, or cut down their leadership at all hours of the day.
Unfortunately, they’d been well trained and, while they hadn’t been veterans before, now all of them had been bloodied in one way or another for the last year and a half.
The Troopers might be weary, but they were fighting for their livelihoods. They wanted revenge on those that had killed their friends and families. Moretti could understand the anger, but he was tired of it. Harmony used people to further their own agenda. They pretended to be both a religious and governmental institution. It allowed them great control over their subjects, and inspired a fanaticism that led to people caring less about their lives and more about taking down as many Troopers as possible.
Moretti sat back and sighed at the four reports in front of him. “Well, shit.”
They detailed four different facilities across the Blue Moon. All of them were low scale and kept well away from the major camps. It had taken three scouting groups to find out what was in the area; the Chosen’s counter-scouts were good at their jobs, and had created a good screen around the facilities.
Now Moretti understood why.
They held fighters, but these had one major difference to those that had attacked the Carriers before: these had been rigged to be bombs.
Moretti had detailed scouts to follow groups moving between the facilities, to find out if there were any other groups.
None of the groups worked on more than one group of fighters to try and keep them compartmentalized, though they all gathered supplies from the same areas.
Moretti was mapping out more fighter outfitting areas, and that had led to the latest report in his group.
Fucking suicide vests. Moretti rubbed his face and let out an angry sigh.
The Chosen anti-scouting groups were thick around the facilities. They were spread all around to make locating the position of the various facilities a pain in the ass.
Moretti needed the scouts to get eyes on it to call in fire on target. If they missed, then the Chosen would gather up their supplies, get into their tunnels, and run away. Moretti needed to take them out in one swift go, which meant he needed the scouts to go out with Combat Shuttle support to get right up to the facilities, then gather as much information as possible, bug out and mark it for the Carriers. If they couldn’t get in, then at the very least Moretti had to make sure that the facilities stopped working.
There was little data or numbers he could draw on. He had to guess when he thought that they knew about of most of the facilities, and choose which ones the scouts would attack.
Then read the reports of those that died to carry out the mission. Moretti knew that he wouldn’t care if he hadn’t spent so much time around the Triple-Twos. They had taught him that he wasn’t just dealing with pawns, he was dealing with real people. Every loss of one of the Triple-Twos was like a hot knife in his chest.
He pushed the pain to the back of his mind, only letting it visit him when he went to sleep. He Troopered the hell on. None of the Triple-Twos that were still living had been given much time to think of the losses, the
y were constantly busy.
Moretti knew enough about people to know that they needed time to decompress, time to deal with things. But he also knew that he needed them where they were. They made up the leadership of two Regiments.
They might have lost friends but everyone had at this point. They might be Moretti’s friends, but in the grand scale of things, they were Troopers.
Unlike some of the new units that hadn’t been at Osdal, they’d actually suffered fewer casualties.
He glanced at the data sheets that showed the Return on Investment of Earth and Her Colonies for the taking of Fernix. He hated seeing it now, but he dared not remove it. He knew that someone was probably keeping an eye on him. Letting them think that his judgement was impaired was a quick way to get someone else doing his job. Someone else that couldn’t give a crap about the Troopers, and Moretti was simply not going to let that happen.
He stretched, cracking his back. He wasn’t a Trooper; he wasn’t good at shooting, but he was good with information and planning.
Chapter 59
Factory Complex Three
Blue Moon, Fernix System
12/3295
Alexis felt like a weight had lifted from her shoulders as she and Tyler had talked, hung out, and generally got themselves sorted out. A blush rose to her cheeks as she thought of the other ways they’d got reacquainted. She’d been scared at first but it seemed that it had been what she’d needed.
The Chosen might have maimed her, but it was clear that Tyler couldn’t give a damn in hell. They’d made love multiple times and her self-consciousness was thrown away by Tyler’s inability to not join her in the shower.
While the sex had returned her confidence, the talking had brought them close again.
It had been a slow three months, but she’d seen that, no matter what, Tyler still loved her and cared for her. That time had pushed away her fears.
She took a breath, a smile on her face as she cleared her mind. As much as she loved Tyler, she needed to focus on something very different.
She’d been in enemy lines for four days now. It had been slow going, the Chosen’s anti-scout, or hunter groups, were much better than their predecessors.
They also had the numbers to saturate areas.
Moretti had ordered the scouts out in force to find out where there were fighters and suicide vests being manufactured.
One of the scout parties had found armories on the edge of the hunter group’s area. It had gone off about twenty minutes ago and the scouts were picking off Chosen.
Alexis watched as a hunter group broke away from their position and headed for the commotion.
“Well, let’s go see what they’re hiding,” Alexis said to Calloway, her second on the mission.
He nodded slightly, edging out over the covered conveyor belt. Bent over almost double, he moved quickly and silently, watching the right as she followed and watched the left.
They moved swiftly and quietly. Their smart clothes and armor were painted and colored with various designs to break up their features and blend into the factories better.
Calloway came to a pause, stopping immediately was an easy way to draw someone’s eye.
Three carats appeared off to the side.
“Take them out,” Alexis said, marking one of the Chosen with her AMR’s laser. She saw Calloway’s laser rest on another. Alexis took a calming breath, remembering Tyler’s training.
“Three, two, one.”
Her count was followed by a quiet thunk of the silenced AMRs removing two red carats. Alexis changed targets, her rifle sounding like a nail-gun again, and the third target didn’t have time to react as they dropped down, a hole through their neck and out of their back.
“Moving,” Alexis said. Calloway was already scanning to see if the hunters’ deaths had been noticed. On her word he started advancing, both of them watching for more targets.
They saw a few other hunter groups, but none of them were as close or watching them as they inched forwards.
It took them two days to get to the facility. At first, Alexis had thought they were wrong as they crept between two Chosen hunter groups, moving just inches at a time. With nothing better to do, she’d watched the building that she’d seen a PAC nearby.
The PACs were roving; they’d learned to cover large areas to make it look like any one of a dozen buildings were housing something important. More than once they’d been guarding nothing but empty buildings, getting the Troopers to waste their Carrier’s ammunition on nothing.
Even if they didn’t mean for it to happen, the PACs moved further away from the building that they meant to protect.
Well, it seems that they know there’s bombs in there, Alexis thought, putting a waypoint on the building and sending a message to Calloway, who was off to her side behind her.
A green light appeared on her HUD. They could talk in their helmets but neither of them wanted to risk it this close to two hunter groups.
Alexis and Calloway rotated being asleep and awake; watching the building, which looked like it had once been offices, taking up a corner of a factory.
All of the windows had items covering them so that they couldn’t see in, but with heat imagery they could see that there was some kind of shielding or people working without atmosphere inside.
Moretti confirmed the target himself and ordered them out of the area. Now they’d found it, he’d have his people trace anyone and everyone moving from the facility to try and track other places.
Then Alexis, Calloway, or one of the other scouting parties would go out again to confirm the locations they found.
Now comes the hard part, getting the hell out of here with no one knowing that we were ever here, Alexis thought, thankful that they’d taken three weeks’ worth of ration mush with them. It was going to take probably twice as long getting out as it had getting in.
Slow and steady, til you lose your mind and you want to brain yourself with a damned spoon. She remembered Dashtund’s voice after he had finished a similar mission a few days before Alexis had gone out.
She’d just thought it was him being as crass as ever. Now, well, she agreed with him.
You’re just hoping Tyler’s off at the same time, she thought, a small smile crossing her face.
Chapter 60
Tower
Earth, Sol System
3/3296
Nivad looked up from his dinner, frowning at the waitress that appeared next to him. The other Company heads looked similarly annoyed at her appearance.
They had come to the restaurant for its ability to keep conversations secret and allowing deals to be carried out away from other companies’ spies.
They paid well for that privilege, and having someone interrupting their dinner was unheard of.
No one made to talk, as it was clear she was bringing the hand written note to Nivad.
Nivad picked it up and looked at the contents.
Ah, so that’s what they planned. We will have to recall the Troopers then. Nivad picked up his napkin and tapped it against his lips.
“I am deeply sorry for this, but it seems that some business has called me away. Might we reschedule? I will, of course, pay next time,” Nivad said with a disarming smile.
The Company heads smiled and agreed, knowing that it was anything but a request.
“Thank you, all. I hope that you have a good night.” He stood and tucked the note into his pocket. No one except Wallace knew the cipher, but Nivad was not going to leave notes around.
“Tower,” Nivad said simply to the head of his guard detail. All of them were wearing their custom powered armor that was many times better than that used by the Troopers and the PACs.
The security detail moved people out of the way by simply walking. No one wanted to be in the way of powered armor security guards with the ministry of intelligence symbol on their chests.
Nivad opened up his implants and checked through his messages and correspondence. Housapel looked to be
suppressed, there was some movement in places outside of the main planet, though they were few in number and they would quickly die out as they had no supplies.
There were freighters heading towards Masoul and the Sphere. Shipments were picking up and, while Earth and Her Colonies might be seeing a few hard years in their future, it would be but a small divot, especially if Nivad could export some more slum dwellers.
It looks like we won’t be able to get rid of that many Troopers; hopefully they will have low enough numbers that they will not be such a financial burden after this next battle, Nivad thought. Winning was good, but having too many of the Troopers alive was a costly proposition, especially if they were so close to home.
Nivad thought of the Roman Empire and their troublesome Legions.
He made his way through the restaurant’s lobby, brushing through the main doors and into the parking garage where more security guards were waiting. The air cars were ready and their armed support was waiting outside. The sleek looking craft had twitchy auto-turrets that scanned and followed passing air cars.
The door to Nivad’s air car opened as Nivad walked right into it. It closed and the security guards ran for their vehicles. In moments they were in the sky and heading on one of the circuitous routes to the tower.
Nivad might be the most powerful man on Earth and in the EHC, but he was not an idiot. Going the same route every time to his office was an easy way to get shot out of the sky. It was also why he rotated security chiefs so often. They had so many different security ideas and routes that it varied his schedule nicely.
Nivad looked out over Mega City. It was no colony city, there were ancient houses and mansions that cost more than some partnerships, spread over kilometers of perfect grass.
Towers rose here and there, built for aesthetics instead of functionality. People here weren’t trying to grow a colony, they were trying to show off their wealth.
The citadel, looking like a polished sword of solid metal, shone along the edge of the city. It was seen as the lower class side of the city, as people from the slums wandered through the area to sign their life away and become the EMF’s cannon fodder.
Fernix (Harmony War Book 4) Page 20