“I will look into it,” Wallace promised with a nod.
Nivad looked over his table, which showed various pieces of information. “Then we’d best get prepared for these Harmony bastards.” Nivad’s voice was calm but the effect of using ‘bastards’ made both Dalia and Wallace look up sharply. Nivad almost never swore and, if he did, then it was likely that the person who had made him swear was not long for the land of the living.
Chapter 68
EMFC Fearless
Fernix system moving to Sol system
4/3296
Mark nursed a beer quietly in a corner, and Jerome, Ortiz, Ko, Yule, and Hamdi sat with him.
The two couples, Dashtund and Dominguez, and Tyler and Alexis were off on a double date.
Dooks, like so many others, hadn’t made it back from Blue Moon.
For the first time, they had time to reflect on their actions on Blue Moon. Memories that Mark had pushed away were threatening to make him dive back into the drink like he had after Masoul.
“For the lost, good people, good Troopers, and damn good friends,” Mark said, raising his cup.
“For the lost,” the others said back, all of them tapping their drinks on the table before taking a drink.
Mark nursed his beer as Ortiz sat back into his seat, looking weary as hell and as if he had aged ten years. Ko started to talk to Jerome about staffing changes.
Mark, well, Mark thought of the lost. ‘Dooks’ Dushresznikov, Waz, Niemi, Iliev, Ali, Tal, Sasaki, Zukic, Haas. He drank as he thought, and the others left him alone as he thought of the Troopers he’d trained with on Blue Moon. The ones that had become his own, had been Devil Dogs alongside him.
He thought of Sergeant Pullo, of Master Corporal Gupta and even Dolche, the first Section that he had been a part of. Emotions welled up and he made an excuse to go to the bathroom. People got out of the way of his bulk as he moved to the washroom.
Bracing himself against the sink, he looked at the tap.
He thought of all those that he had lost. The people that had followed him and those he had followed in the beginning. Emotions, hot and heavy worked their way to the surface. He looked up, laughing at the good times, hot tears running down his cheeks at the loss of so many great people.
They’re gone, but God, were they brilliant fucking bastards, he thought, crying. Someone opened the door to the bathroom and Mark washed his hands, covering his shame at his own emotions. He splashed some water on his face, pushing his feelings away and hiding his tears as he wiped his face.
He looked into his own eyes again and studied his face; it was hard and cold.
He wasn’t a good man; hell, he wasn’t even a decent man. He had watched millions of people die just because they had been part of an uprising. Sure, he thought that it was stupid and that the people were guilty of turning a blind eye to what they were condoning.
They had supported the subjugation of others for their own means. His anger had burned bright to destroy all of Harmony. He understood why the order had been given to deploy toxins to Housapel and Fernix.
Anger, fresh and painful, turned in towards him. He was a captain in Earth’s Military Forces. He wasn’t a good man, he wasn’t a decent man, and he hated himself for that, but he now knew that he couldn’t fight any more uprisings.
A part of him was hoping that he would die so that he could leave behind all of the suffering. He was a war hero, someone that was known across the EHC for his deeds. Diablo, the war God. He’d seen the posters across the civilian nets.
He would defeat Harmony or die trying, but after that… he couldn’t fight any more colonists that were just trying to find a better way of life.
I can’t fight another Sacremon, he thought, understanding dawning upon him.
War had taught him something that he hadn’t realized before; he could kill for a cause, he could kill for those that were to either side of him, and he would do it in a heartbeat. Yet, being the aggressor, the enforcer - if he did that, then he would be no better than Harmony.
He moved out of the washroom, memories of the lost tugging at the back of his head as he remembered having a drink with those that had been killed. The plans they’d made, the ways they’d turned slum dwellers and Troopers doing the bare minimum into true soldiers.
A good looking dark tanned girl with black hair brushed against Mark, her hand touching his arm.
Mark paused, looking at her, coming out of his thoughts.
“Let me know if you’re looking for someone to share your cot,” she said with a smile.
Mark smiled and nodded to her, walking away. His face fell as soon as he looked away. He stored the card and made his way back to the table.
I don’t have time for distractions. I have a war to plan, Mark thought, driven to lose as few friends as possible to Harmony’s last action.
He made his way back to his table, ordering more beers. Planning could wait until tomorrow, for tonight they would do the memories of their friends proud.
“Cigar?” Jerome asked, as he took his seat.
“Thanks,” Mark’s voice was gruff as he took a Cohelean cigar and smelled it.
“Hard to think it’s been three planets since Sacremon,” Jerome said, his voice soft as he offered Mark a lighter. Mark flicked out his hidden blade and snipped the cigar.
“Yeah,” Mark said. He thought of Gupta, who had talked about his ritual to have a Cohelean cigar after every campaign.
He puffed on the cigar until it was lit.
“We’ve lost too many friends.” Mark leaned against the back of his seat.
Jerome puffed on his cigar, nodding.
“I think it’s time we see if we could retire,” Mark said, holding Jerome’s eyes, and understanding passed between them.
“I couldn’t handle another Sacremon.”
“You and me both.”
Now we just have to survive Earth, Mark said silently, promising to himself that it would be his last war.
Fernix (Harmony War Book 4) Page 24