Masoul (Harmony War Series Book 2)

by Michael Chatfield

  “Damn, that was close,” he said, pulling out and displaying a box of Cohlean cigars from his side pocket. A twinge of memory as he remembered Gupta’s love for the smoke stacks.

  “Those will do very nice in the mess,” Jerome said, Mark putting them away to the smiles of Nerva and Jerome.

  “Food will be in the cafeteria, then drinks in the enlisted mess,” Nerva said, his commanding voice cutting through the commotion. People acknowledge the announcement and went back to talking.

  “See you later,” Mark said to Tyler and Alexis, half-interrupting their talk with Holm and Ali.

  Tyler grinned and nodded.

  Jerome and Nerva trailed off to the cafeteria, a message came in through Mark’s implants, he checked it. It was a message from a lady called Madeline Costa.

  Dear Mr. Victor and Mr. Gomez,

  My grandfather told me to send you a report every fifteen years or when something had happened. I am writing this to tell you two things, first the company is succeeding and we are looking to adding another dock to the shipyard. We are continuing along the plan you outlined to create massive inner-system freighters and then move to system to system freighter.

  The mines have expanded and we are doing good trade there.

  The second reason I am writing this instead of my grandfather. Is because he has died. He meant to send you a message telling you that Quentin Richter has also died but two years ago his mind started to slip. I took over and it is only as I am going through his message logs that I realized he never sent the message.

  The gang that Richter led is now under the command of a man called Damon Merles. He had a message for Mr. Victor that I have attached as well with the records for our operating years. I have also added a secured transcript from the bank detailing your account details.

  Thank you for the opportunities that you gave my grandfather and my family. I will make sure that ‘the yard’ keeps running. Please let me know if you need anything else.

  Sincerely

  Madeline Costa

  Manager of ‘The Yard’

  Mark looked over to Jerome whose eyes were blank for a few seconds, Mark’s had sadness in his own.

  It had been a few months for them since they had seen Costa and Richter, while setting up their plans for the future. For Costa and Richter, it had been thirty-seven years. Life extension treatments had kept them going, but it was late in the game for them and damned expensive.

  Mark saw the rest of the message, other notes, various spreadsheets, blueprints and a data packet that contained the information of Mark’s account.

  Jerome sighed and nodded, telling Mark he was okay.

  “Something happen?” Nerva asked, watching the by-play as they got into the cafeteria.

  “Two of our close friends back home have died, Quentin was one of them,” Mark said, remembering that Nerva and Quentin had been Captain’s together before Quentin reached his retirement age.

  Nerva’s face became tight.

  “It’s hard being out here as those that you knew wither away in what feels like years,” Nerva said tired wisdom in those words.

  “Focus on celebrating the time you had with them, not being apart. Today of all days should be one of fun.” He brought himself up to full commanding height, his eyes chilling. “As your Major I now order the two of you to eat, drink, smoke and have a damned good day,” he glowered at them both.

  They gave their agreements, their pensive frowns turning into smiles.

  “Good, now get in front I want some damned food before the rest of them pile in here,” Nerva said.

  They went through the lines grabbing food and seeing the cake that the cooks had whisked up for the couple. Jerome, Mark and Nerva grabbed a table, shooting the shit. Others of the party flowed in, most of them kept away from the table, having a Major hanging around probably made a bunch of them nervous.

  Dashtund grabbed a seat.

  “I think I should get married,” he started off with, shovelling food into his face.

  “Just why the hell would you want to do that?” Jerome asked, others that were filling the table also looking at Dashtund in interest.

  “Did ew se de ize of dat ake?” Dashtund said through a mouthful of food.

  “Ahh, I guess this is the infamous Dashtund I’ve heard so much about,” Nerva said, looking to Mark.

  “I believe so Major,” Mark said, seeing Dashtund squirm a little in his seat.

  Alexis and Tyler came in through the doors, people all around them and cheers were coming from the people in the cafeteria. Tyler bowed and Alexis looked like she was going to melt on the spot.

  Tyler planted a kiss on her lips, cheers turning into whistles and hollering.

  It died down as the two made it to the food line, the cooks wheeled out a cake. Tyler and Alexis cut it, the cooks then started divvying it up so Tyler and Alexis could get some food into them. They sat down next to Nerva, people quickly filling the table. Everyone seemed to have something to say and smiles colored everyone’s faces.

  Trays were cleared away and Tyler announced their next destination.

  “To the mess!” He barked, pointing for the door. People laughed and joined the procession. They walked in, Mark and Jerome inviting Nerva, Captain Ortiz and Sholtz. They grabbed a table, Mark gave Nerva the box of Cohelans to distribute as he went to find Alexis.

  He tapped her shoulder, pulling out a wrapped package from his pants pocket.

  “Mark! What’s up?” She asked, Mark realizing that she was at a table of primarily girls and remembering what she had said about meeting more women.

  “I have something for you,” he said, hoping to cut her off before she made the same connections he’d just made.

  “Oh?” She said, spying the package. Mark handed it to her and she pulled it apart.

  She pulled out the twin knives, identical to the ones that Mark and Tyler hid under their arms, complete with a smart cloth holster.

  “Oh Mark,” she said, tears filling her eyes as she wrapped her arms around his neck. He hugged her.

  “Welcome to the family,” he whispered, holding his sister tight.

  ***

  It was the morning after the wedding, everyone was still buzzing about it. Mark was happy, it kept their minds off the fact that in less than twenty-four hours his platoon would be continuing their journey to Masoul Actual with Harmony dusters and guns aboard a captured shuttle. The rest of the troopers would be fighting their way across Shipping Station.

  The taste of booze and cigars still coated his throat. No orange juice or mouth wash could fully remove the taste.

  He’d been reminded how bad that combination tasted together as his orange juice sat by itself in an island of despair.

  He shook thinking of that particular mixture.

  He scrolled through his surface, he’d gone through the last minute checks for his section and now he was looking through the information that Madeline had sent.

  Jerome and Garcia walked in, grabbing food and coming to sit next to Mark.

  “Morning,” Jerome said.

  “You two look chipper,” Mark grinned, Jerome sighed as Garcia grinned happily.

  “What you doing?” Garcia asked.

  “Looking over a message and doing last minute checks, pretty boring stuff,” Mark said, putting the surface to sleep, catching the thoughtful look on Jerome’s face. It looked like he’d reminded Jerome of the message from Earth.

  “Though some people have other things on their mind,” Mark teased, smiling at Jerome.

  “Well yes they do,” Jerome said with his own smile, looking to Garcia.

  “Boys,” she laughed, Mark and Jerome quickly joining in

  They talked about the topics of the day, mostly Alexis and Tyler’s wedding, the debauchery that had gone on in the mess. How Captain Ortiz had drunk three groups under the table and continued to drink just because he could.

  “I swear that man was on a constant detox,” Jerome said, shakin
g his head. Alexis and Tyler came in looking like a million credits. People smiled and waved, they made quiet conversation as they made their way to the table.

  “Did you give it to him yet?” Tyler asked as he sat down.

  “Not yet,” Mark said, both of them looking to Jerome with smiles on their faces.

  “What?” Jerome asked warily, Mark could see he was checking around to see if someone was going to prank him.

  Mark pulled a package from his thigh.

  “Do you want to tell the story?” Mark asked Tyler.

  “Sure.”

  “So Mark was getting extra blades for both of us and decided to get a few extras made for our newest brother,” Tyler said, Mark gave Jerome the package, he opened it, finding identical blades to the ones Tyler and Mark wore. Which now Alexis did as well.

  “Oh you fuckers,” he said his eyes getting watery, as he reached across the table grabbing both of their necks and hugging them.

  “There is a hell of a lot of hugging going on,” Mark said, laughing and tapping Jerome’s back. They released and Jerome played with the blades.

  “So what do you think, bro?” Tyler said, leaning on an elbow and eating a piece of delicious bacon.

  “I think these are some damned nice blades,” he laughed.

  “We’ll show you how to use them, you’re going to get some uncomfortable callouses for the first little bit,” Mark said.

  “Garcia can help you learn when to get them the hell out of the way during, uhh. Other activities,” Alexis said, she and Garcia sharing a smile.

  “Well I’m off to check the gear some more and sort out some damned paperwork,” Mark said, excusing himself. “I should have that paperwork ready for you, if you want to do a fifty-fifty split?”

  “I trust you, sounds good,” Jerome said.

  “Mind you don’t nick your arms with those things, did that so many damned times before I got the hang of it,” Mark nodded to the blades.

  “Thanks, makes them sound so much more fun,” Jerome said dryly.

  Mark laughed and left the cafeteria, he was looking over the rest of the information Madeline had sent him. She had a number of ideas of how to expand, the biggest being retailors of cheap refined materials within Sol. They were making a brisk trade swapping ores for parts at certain manufacturers. They had five yards not just the one and the skeleton hidden in the asteroid belt.

  She wanted to make a fuel refiner to turn some of the asteroids ice into fuel and make a solar farm to cut their reliance on the fuel companies. Though the start-up costs were a decent chunk of change.

  She said that they could make freighters and they’d be good if they went with the standard size. Yet if they went with super freighters, measuring not three or less kilometers, but three or more. They could make a lot more money shifting that freight. Again massive upfront cost and fuel was going to be a pain.

  She didn’t want to have engines and tech from other companies, she wanted to make it in-house. Which meant that reading between the lines she wanted to have a research and development team looking at speeding up the transport and making them a damned sight cheaper.

  She had listed how much the initiatives were calculated to costs, along with projected profits in the twenty to fifty-year range.

  Thankfully the one thing that didn’t need developing was the people. Well they could grow, but they were solid and reliable. Nearly all of them were descendants from the original workers. The additional workers had been pulled from EMF retirees that could stay off the drink long enough to function, then others from Westerly three complex and the greenhouses.

  Mark totalled up the numbers as he got to the armory, he waved his greeting to the bored looking armorer that was reading a book.

  “Hey Joe,” Mark said.

  “Mark, what brings you about these parts?” Joe asked.

  “Just looking for some peace and quiet,” Mark said.

  “My armory is your armory,” Joe said, waving to the racks and getting back to the work of reading.

  Mark grabbed a seat on some ammunition boxes and opened up the accounts tab. He had to use his thumb print with a series of questions and a recording, then it finally opened to show him his earnings.

  He thought the ammunition had exploded underneath him as he looked at the numbers on the screen. The mining business in Sol was a Quadrillion credit mule.

  Mark’s two-and-a-half million credit debt was replaced with a healthy twenty-seven billion profit. The greenhouses had spread their information across all of Earth. Adding a further ten billion to the pot.

  He opened a channel to Jerome, using his new vocal cord implant.

  “That wasn’t long,” Jerome said.

  “Come to the armories, say you need to check your gear and bring your surface. You’re going to want to see this, and come alone,” Mark said.

  “Be there in a minute,” Jerome’s voice became serious, almost anxious.

  Five minutes later and Jerome was in the armories, looking like he’d run the entire way.

  “How fucked are we?” Jerome asked.

  “What?” Mark said, confused, before realizing that Jerome must have thought it was bad news.

  “Open your account and check your numbers,” Mark said.

  Jerome did so, his face grim as he went through the security checks.

  “Holy fuck!” He yelled.

  “Shut up will you,” Mark barked, looking around to see if anyone had heard him.

  Jerome walked over to a bench as if his legs were lead, sinking down onto it. The numbers pulling his eyes into them.

  “Not bad is it,” Mark grinned.

  “You ass, I thought we were fucked in debt,” Jerome growled.

  “Oh well, Madeline wants about twenty-four billion for all of her projects. If we want to get her starting to work on super-freighters then all of it will be gone again,” Mark said.

  “All of it?” Jerome said, sounding almost pained.

  “Well a few hundred million to spare,” Mark shrugged.

  “That’s a hell of a lot,” Jerome growled.

  “Look, we spent ten million and got a hell of a lot more. I say we put our faith in her and see what she can do. Plus a few hundred million is more than enough to do whatever we want when we retire. If we don’t make it back then we aren’t going to be able to spend the money, and who knows how long this campaign will take,” Mark said, sensing that Jerome wasn’t convinced yet.

  “Look we’ve been in the EMF for a hundred and sixty years technically. We’ve been awake for three and a half of those years. We do this now and the next time we wake up will be in four years. We don’t know how long we’ll be in Masoul for. Though if we go straight from Masoul back to Sol it’s still another thirty-six years. In that time, even if the yard doesn’t make these projected earnings, we still have the greenhouses going and they’re expecting to explode with their new project to spread the trees across the system. We get fifteen percent of all those earnings,” Mark said, realizing as he went that they weren’t building a retirement fund anymore, they were building a small empire.

  “You have a point,” Jerome said.

  “I don’t usually like to waste oxygen,” Mark said dryly.

  “Fuck it, let’s do it,” Jerome said. They spent the next few hours going over all the damned paperwork, firing funds off and preparing their own data packages, one for Westerly three complex, another for the greenhouses and one for Madeline Costa.

  “Now let’s go and waste the rest of the day,” Mark said, standing.

  “Sounds good to me,” Jerome said, standing.

  Chapter 30

  Bandit One

  Shipping Station to Masoul Actual, Masoul System.

  11/3240

  “This thing is a piece of shit,” Bobbie said. Yu didn’t say anything. It wasn’t the first time Bobbie had said that, nor did Yu think it’d be the last.

  He’s also not wrong either, Yu thought, looking at the repairs that had been d
one to the shuttle. It looked like someone had used a slum to put the craft together, there was space tape holding sections together, the second engine had an intermittent fault, and the inter-atmosphere flaps were tiny, making them all but useless if they were to enter atmosphere at any speed. Whoever had made the thing was a fucking idiot that had never flown before.

  Yu couldn’t understand why someone would use the damn thing. Yet he was stuck with it. Nerva and higher didn’t want anyone messing around with the ship. The fewer people working on it, the fewer messages were passed around.

  Thankfully, Bobby was handy with a welder and Young was gold at soldering. They’d beaten the shuttle into workable shape and fired up the reactors.

  Their fellows wandered across the hangar. Their armor and weapons were staying on Reclaimer, now they wore dusters, and the weapons of the Harmony hit squads. They were the enforcers of Harmony’s mandates.

  Under their clothes were weapons, hung off of cords, like gangs on Earth did.

  “Welcome to the fucking dumpster hauler,” Bobbie grumbled, getting a few laughs and grins from the troopers. They had all gone to Tyler and Alexis’ wedding. A bit of booze and a good celebration brought people together as few things did. Everyone got into the shuttle, where the whining clunking hydraulics and quiet conversation could be heard from the back.

  “Hey, Yu, Young,” Second Lieutenant Haas said, walking up the few steps to the cockpit and watching the two pilots as they worked their systems.

  “Hey, Jonas,” Yu replied, one of his screens flickering. “Piece of shit,” Yu slapped it to bring it back into focus.

  “I love this shuttle so much I could bark fucking rainbows,” Young said.

  “You two had caffeine yet?” Haas asked, sounding worried.

  “Yup,” Yu said.

  “Two cups,” Young flashed a smile.

  “Ah, shit,” Haas said, going from worried to an ‘I don’t get paid enough for this shit’ sigh.

  “Yeah, you got it,” Yu said, checking the lights above his head, igniting the engines, and bringing them up to power.

  “Doors are sealed, everyone’s helmets are on and tapped into the O-line. I don’t trust this shuttle at all and we’re going to pump out the air before leaving. Things a fucking shit show,” Bobbie said from the shuttle’s small cargo bay.