Sacremon (Harmony War Series Book 1)

by Michael Chatfield

  Mark finally found a corner and started to go through a book on augments, the one under his ribs looked to keeping him alive, but there were others that could pump him full of combat hormones and drugs to keep him in fighting condition for days, or be so absurdly alert that it would be like he had a sixth sense. He wasn't sure about that one, it seemed more like a marketing ploy since the augment was actually called Sixth sense.

  If he was willing to part with some credits; weapons, kits, and body upgrades were all within reach. The corporations didn’t have to spend any money, instead their troopers paychecks would be circulating over and over again. They would actually be making money off of their troops.

  He traced the letters of his tattoos absently the M&T over a V with the troopers tattoo, feared and revered by all of the EHC below. It showed the Earth with crossed E-12's with the letters EMF over top.

  He looked up the ships implant retailer, the medics did the augments and the armorers did the gear.

  He headed off to the medics and dropped less than he was expecting into a sixth sense implant. They were almost shocked by his want to get an implant.

  Most people didn't spend their creds on augmentations, but rather the beers in the small messes, basically bars, on the ship.

  It was close to lights out when he woke up with his Sixth sense and enhanced implant package coming online. The doc had thrown the implant upgrade in for free, it would take a few days to fully integrate but they were simple enough.

  She, like the Medic back on Earth was more interested with how it would work than money, plus all the money was going to corporations anyway, so screwing them out a few credits was fine to her and her colleagues.

  Mark found his bunk area easily with his implants, his chip let him into the room, and the light chatter died as he walked through and made his way to the two empty cots.

  He didn't pay them any attention as he continued his reading, staring up at the back of the empty bunk above him until he passed out.

  Mark heard Tyler come in and climb up to his bunk.

  “MMMMM,” Mark groaned, basically asking him how long he'd been out.

  “Urggh nnn,” Tyler replied, the grunting equivalent of, I don't know but I want to sleep.

  Mark settled back down and was asleep in moments, you learned to sleep when you could in the slums.

  That wasn't to say that they slept lightly in the slums, everyone was trying to steal your shit or kill you to steal it. A life wasn't worth nearly as much as a coat and boots when the cold winds hit.

  “Ready?” Mark heard someone that had been creeping up on his bunk, he was laying on his side, his back facing whoever was behind him.

  Without a prompt battle hormones started to pump through his body, he was more awake than ever, with boundless energy.

  “You grab the one on the top, we'll grab the one on the bottom. Show them why someone doesn't try to be a...”

  Mark had figured out where the six attackers were, three were to the left, close to his head, the other near his chest and the other near the foot of his bed.

  The other three were on the other side of the bunk in the same positions.

  Mark twitched his smart cloth, his blades easing down his arm.

  “...goddamn brown nosing twat,” Dolche finished.

  Mark did two things, he rolled forward, out of his bunk and towards the three attackers that hadn’t been talking and whistled an alarm out.

  He slammed his foot into the attacker at the bottom of his bed's knee. His hand came out like a round from a E-12, pressing the second attacker into the ground. Apparently they were a woman, but they doubled over anyway.

  He pushed off of the bed, to get himself vertical, he rushed the third attacker.

  Tyler was awake and already jumping off of the top bunk, to deal with the three on the other side.

  It sounded like he'd landed foot first on someone's head.

  The third person grabbed Mark's arm as if to restrain him. This served to only make Mark angrier because now he had to get rid of this clinger.

  He delivered heavy blows to their stomach, making them double over, but still they held on. A light of madness entered Mark's eyes as he slammed his fist into their face, they released but now Mark held onto them, his free arm grabbed their shirt, the other grabbed his leg and he turned in the tight area between bunks and launched a screaming person into another bunk.

  They landed in a mess off whimpering.

  The woman Mark had punched was slowly rising recovering from the initial assault. A savage blow put her down. Knee boy was apparently broken knee boy.

  Tyler grunted, taking a nasty blow to the ribs. Mark turned, using the bunk as a bar to swing himself into the stomach of one of the attackers, next to Tyler.

  Mark's hand whipped out to the side, his blade tapping Dolche's jugular. Dolche froze as Tyler snapped a kick out at the man who Mark had delivered the stomach blow previously.

  Tyler's arms snapped to his sides, blades identical to Mark's in his hands as he looked for more threats.

  “Mark,” Tyler's voice was warning as the door to the barracks opened, Pullo stormed in, his angered face turning thunderous as he took in the scene.

  His eyes found Mark as two MP's appeared behind him.

  “Come with me now,” Pullo's voice brooked no argument.

  Mark dialed his battle hormone pump down, he looked to Dolche.

  “Next time I won't stop,” Mark promised, pulling his blade from Dolche's neck.

  In the Slums you needed to show your dominance, and you needed to show people you were willing to go the extra mile to make them pay.

  But the biggest reason Mark planted his boot in Dolche's chest was because he wasn't going to let him get away with only a little nick on his neck.

  Dolche’s head clipped the bunk bed behind him. He let out a yell, moaning on the ground while clutching his head.

  Mark flicked his sleeve up with practised efficiency. Tyler did the same.

  So much for working with my squad and getting to know them better than I know myself. Mark thought, sending a silent sorry to Quentin.

  “Get out here now!” Pullo barked, looking like he wanted to give Mark and Tyler a few belts.

  “We'll take them to the duty officer. We've called a medic for your lot,” the MP said, his voice reproving.

  Mark and Tyler passed Pullo and marched out into the corridor, waiting for whatever came next. They had slept in their clothes out of habit.

  “It looks to me like your people were trying to re-educate your two newbies. Thankfully your newbies weren't slacking,” the MP continued. Pullo looked like he was going to erupt but instead nodded.

  “It looks that way,” Pullo said, his eyes flicking to the six men and women sprawled on the floor. That look did not bode well for them.

  “Gupta! Get everyone up and in the fucking hall, right fucking now! And drag these pieces of shit out too,” Pullo snarled, jutting his chin out at those on the floor.

  Another four MP's showed up and the one that had been talking to Pullo had a quiet conversation with them. Their eyes moved from Mark and Tyler to the people hobbling and being pulled out of the barracks.

  They nodded to Mark and Tyler, their faces only slightly tightening as they looked to the injured. Even with their need to stay neutral, it looked like it was a tenuous position.

  Pullo joined the circle, looking none too pleased either.

  Then they broke apart, the MP returning to his partner and the victor brothers while Pullo stood in front of his section, his spine like a support beam for a house.

  “These fine ladies and gentlemen will be escorting us all to the medical ward where we're going to get these idiots patched up and then we're going to fill out reports, everyone will. Then we're going to run like we're in basic again and go through a full training rota. Vacation is over.” He looked them over with the expression of a father that was supremely pissed and unimpressed.

  “We're going to see t
he officer of the watch, we going to have any problem,” the MP asked Mark and Tyler.

  “No Master Corporal,” Tyler said, Mark's body was still winding down but he forced himself to relax.

  Master Corporal Freeman looked to Mark in question.

  “No Master Corporal,” Mark echoed.

  “Good, come on then.” Freeman led the way, his partner staying behind Mark and Tyler in case they got any funny ideas.

  They got stares from people as they were escorted through the ship.

  It didn't take long before they came to a locked hatch. Freeman knocked on the door with loud clanging thumps.

  “Come in Freeman,” a voice used to giving commands said as the door opened.

  “Blades first,” Freeman said, holding out a hand.

  Tyler looked to Mark in question. Mark's blades slipped into his hand, giving them to Freeman, Tyler did the same.

  “Don't worry you can get them back afterwards,” Freeman reassured them. Putting them in a leg pocket and walking in the room.

  Mark and Tyler followed while Freeman's partner hung out in the corridor.

  The room was the same gunmetal grey as the rest of the ship except for the Sacremons’ altered training areas.

  A cot lay to the right side of the room, a small washroom and shower at the end of the cot. The majority of the room was taken up with a desk bolted to the floor, with two chairs facing it, and one occupied chair looking at the hatch.

  “Master Corporal reporting sir,” Freeman said, coming to attention and snapping off a salute, Mark and Tyler came to attention as one.

  “Thank you Freeman,” the officer said, his nametape declaring him as Nerva. He had close cropped blonde hair and a tanned complexion, but his eyes were cold and it looked like he was incapable of smiling. He put down a screen on the desk, behind him was a detailed map of Sacremon with a city colored in different sections.

  Mark and Tyler kept staring at the wall behind Nerva, their backs rigid even though the officer had put them at ease with that salute. They were still new enough to stand on decorum and look like idiots rather than fuck ups, which would get them into more shit.

  Nerva's eyes looked from one of them to the other, weighing them before he sat back in his chair.

  “Alright Freeman I can take it from here, I'll send you a page when I'm done with these two. If I could get those reports at the soonest I'd appreciate it,” Nerva said, most people would have probably made this an order but Nerva seemed more laid back and made it a simple request, he wasn't going to fuck over anyone if he didn't have to.

  “Yes sir, it will depend when the... other persons involved in the situation are cleared by medical.” Mark's eyes darted between Nerva and Freeman. Freeman's 'other persons' sounded a lot like he meant 'attackers'. Nerva and Freeman's eyes seemed to sparkle, Freeman's mouth twitching ever so slightly. Nerva's neutral mask never slipped. Mark was beginning to think it wasn't really a mask, just how Nerva looked all the time.

  “Of course,” Nerva admonished.

  “I also have some of their personal belongings.” The statement came out as a question.

  “Ah, I'll take them then.” The four blades were placed in Nerva’s outstretched hand. “Thank you Master Corporal,” he said. Freeman let himself out, the door sealing behind him as Nerva weighed the blades in his hand and picked one up.

  Mark saw a flash of his arm that had three silver suns, declaring him Captain Nerva, and commander of fourth regiment.

  “Take a seat please,” Nerva said, waving to the seats. Mark and Tyler did so as Nerva put the blades on the table.

  “Who trained you,” Nerva asked. Mark was about to say The Boss, when he remembered how that life was behind him.

  “Retired Captain Richter,” Mark said.

  “Quentin Richter?” Nerva asked, his eyebrow arching in interest.

  “Yes sir,” Mark said.

  “He always was a tough bastard. Alright I'm going to lay the situation out for both of you as I see it. You two are decent with your weapons and training. Don't let that swell your heads,” Nerva warned.

  “You didn't know how most people just want to be the grey men and women hiding in the middle of the ranks till they get out. Less chance that they get into shit. With your scores you got your squad elevated and certain people weren't that happy. So they thought to put you in your place. Now tell me then the events as they transpired in the barracks.” Nerva looked serene as he waited for Mark and Tyler to begin.

  “I woke up to hearing people moving around our bunks. I reacted before they could put whatever plan they had in mind to work,” Mark answered.

  “I was asleep, when Mark whistled I woke up and saw people reaching for him under the bunk. He had taken one person out and was fighting two others. I dropped into the three fresh attackers, putting one down and having a stand-up fight with two others. Mark finished off his people and barged one attacker out of the way. I finished them off as Mark stopped another attacker from continuing their assault,” Tyler added.

  “With a blade and then proceeded to kick his ass into the bunk behind him.” Nerva interlocked his hand on his stomach, looking for either of them to refute the claim.

  “Correct,” Mark said, knowing Tyler wouldn't drop him in the shit.

  Nerva looked like some kind of thoughtful statue for a few moments.

  “Okay, well it's too late to put you two in a new squad, but I can say two things. First your squad is going to be hitting the highest numbers on all the tests or I will personally come down there. If you survive Sacremon your squad will be moved to Alpha company first platoon, meaning that you will get a pay bump and be trained as special teams. You will also be fast-tracked to getting rank. If you can work with people then you will go far in the EMF, if not then I will make you wish you never heard of the EMF.” Nerva didn't raise his voice or even look angry, the calm and controlled fury of those words were only emphasized by his relaxed stature.

  Mark and Tyler straightened in their chairs.

  “Understood sir,” Mark said.

  “Good, then I hope to see you once we're leaving Sacremon.” Nerva grabbed the blades and put them on the edge of his table. Mark and Tyler grabbed them, flicking them up their sleeves and back into place.

  Mark turned for the door.

  Tyler made a noise that made him look to his brother.

  Salute! Tyler's eyes seemed to scream.

  Mark snapped Nerva a salute, Tyler bracing.

  Nerva gave one back and Mark went back to the door.

  “So now we have to live with the people we just beat the shit out of, and drop on a hostile planet with them,” Tyler said, his voice low as passerby's shot the two of them glances.

  “If we make it out alive we'll get slotted into special teams which means better equipment we don't have to pay for, as well as augments,” Mark replied, feeling more tired than he had in ages. His sixth sense had stopped supplying his body with battle hormones and chemicals, they were leaving him feeling drained.

  I need to mess around with the pumps settings a bit more.

  “Key phrase there, we need to make it off of Sacremon,” Tyler grumbled.

  Mark just shrugged.

  Chapter 7

  EMFC Reclaimer

  Sacremon System

  7/3169

  Pullo had a quick word with Mark and Tyler when they came back from Nerva's office, they told him Nerva's ultimatum.

  He didn't look pleased, but it was clear he thought it would be a lot harsher.

  “Alright, I'm going to level with you two. That shit you pulled isn't going to win you any friends and while those that attacked you aren't getting much sympathy from the rest of the section, they've been on the ground before. People are going to trust them more than you. I was honestly was hoping that Nerva would punish the section and get you two moved onto a new section. Though it looks like he wants to save everyone's careers from that embarrassment and get us to clean up our own act.

 
“You can forget about that BM shit, now we're playing for the real money, getting into Alpha Company First platoon is a big deal. It also means we're probably going to be thrown into everything the Captain gives us. When we're on the ground that is going to be a lot. Captains are the second highest rank that actually goes in the field, everyone above Major usually stays on the carrier and pushes pieces around. He will pick and choose us for assignments and we are going to meet those requirements,” he said, looking at them to make sure they understood.

  “Get to the barracks and get some sleep, you're going to need it with all the testing we're going to need to do in the next few days.”

  Pullo left them with that.

  The atmosphere in the barracks had changed from sullen disregard to the two of them being the center of attention. The six that had gone through the medical facilities were stuck on the other side of the room looking not too pleased since Gupta's bunk was right beside them.

  People looked awkward as if they were trying to start a conversation. They were met with the stares of two boys who had been fighting for their lives for the past eight years.

  Remarks and conversations died on their lips as Mark and Tyler's dark eyes swept over them. Their message clear, you fuck with the Victor brothers and they won't show you mercy.

  Mark settled down on his bunk, dialing down his sixth sense which had added it’s own chemicals to make him as effective as possible.

  “Tomorrow is going to suck,” Tyler said getting onto his bunk.

  “Yeah, though I found a hook-up for an implanter, she upped my implant package for free.”

  “I feel we're going to need every advantage we can get,” Tyler mumbled.

  Mark made a noise of agreement, getting comfortable on his cot and letting sleep take him.

  Morning came too fast, and with it came an irate Pullo that had had been pulling people from their cots all night to get reports sorted out.

  The relaxed atmosphere from the morning before was gone as he walked up and down the barracks with everyone standing at attention.

  “Last night some people showed me an area in which we need development as a section,” He looked around, people avoiding his gaze.