Sacremon (Harmony War Series Book 1)

by Michael Chatfield

  “Yes Corporal,” Mark said.

  “Good, on me then, let’s clear that damned main lobby out. Feng, Jerome, Damon, Lupo split between the two secondary lobbies, go up the stairway and tell us when you're on the second floor of the lobby,” Simmons said, the others that had infiltrated through the other doorways of the first floor. Giving the rest of the company multiple entryways into their target.

  They rose and left on their tasks, the remainder following Simmons towards the main lobby.

  There were about twenty people in the lobby, most of them were hiding in the two desks to either side of the main door, or behind the barricade they'd made in front of the main desk.

  Simmons put Mark and Tyler on the left entrance to the Lobby and taken herself and the three other knife-wielders with her on the right entrance.

  ‘'Grenades then shotguns?” Mark asked.

  “Want to ask Simmons?” Tyler said, unlimbering the shotgun from his straps.

  “Better to ask forgiveness than permission,” Mark said as movement caught his eye, a group were moving from the right desk out of the right entrance.

  “Simmons you have people coming right for you,” Mark said.

  “Shit. Where are you four on the second floor. Just getting out of the stairwells, be there in like five minutes,” Feng said.

  “Not soon enough. Tyler, Mark draw their attention and we'll hit them as soon as you open up,” Simmons said.

  “Got it.” Mark freed his shotgun, letting his rifle hang by its sling and grabbed two grenades. “I got left you get centre and right,” Mark said, grabbing a grenade and twisting the top.

  He threw it behind the left lobby counter. Tyler followed up, someone had seen them and started hammering the left entrance.

  Mark and Tyler got into cover, the explosive rounds taking chunks out of the wall they were hiding behind. It seemed like all of the lobby were firing at their position as the grenades went off. Mark turned seeing shocked people looking around. He fired, the explosive shells ripped through their bodies and simple clothing like sharpened knives into steak.

  Shrapnel from whatever the rounds hit, maimed and killed half their number, anyone unfortunate to get in the way of a shell turned into a fountain of gore.

  E-12's opened up from the floor above and to the right.

  An indicator showed someone had caught shrapnel through their neck. No one on the right side had the time to look to them as they fought for their own lives.

  Mark's clip clicked empty, he ducked back in cover. Tyler moving past him and added his own shots into the melee. The desk to the left was up in flames, the barricade had holes through it and the right desk looked to have survived mostly intact but it was holed up from shrapnel.

  “Grenade in right desk!” Mark said, seeing as how the people in the right desk were making life hell. He thumbed a new grenade and tossed it behind the desk, getting a mess of shrapnel from the wall beside him in his visor.

  “Out!” Tyler said, moving back into cover.

  Mark tried to not think about how his HUD wasn't working and his visor had spider webs over it as he swung out, firing at the barricade.

  Both of the desks were on fire now, the walls blackened as Mark used the light but couldn't see anyone standing still.

  Then a noise, sounding like a buzz saw mixed with hard rain against a metal sheet roof filled the room.

  “They're shooting on the main shutter to gain access to the room!” Simmons said, Mark heard the fear that he felt in her voice.

  “Tyler grab your rifle we're going to clear that barricade and knock it down to give them less cover.” Mark ducked back into cover putting his shotgun in his backpacks strap and swinging his rifle up.

  “Good to go,” Tyler said, they moved up, scanning everywhere and tilted to the other side of the barricade. Tyler made noises that made Mark wonder if he would lose his lunch.

  Mark ground his teeth, fighting his stomach as he pushed his gun out of the way and started pulling tables out from the barricade, bags filled with dirt falling everywhere as he grunted.

  The noises were louder next to the main door and it made Mark move faster as Tyler and the others on the first floor joined in.

  Only Feng and Jerome were in position on the second floor, Lupo had been standing when an explosive round hit the floor beneath him, the cermite shrapnel had gone up and into his neck. Damon was doing what he could, but from his sensor readings it didn't look like he was going to make it.

  The tables were moved and flipped in front of the barricade, cutting down a lot of the height and making a lot of obstacles in front of the door. Mark and Tyler rammed the remaining bags of dirt with their shoulders, pushing them to the floor as the first rounds hammered through the cermite.

  Both brothers turned and dove behind the main desk.

  “Mark, open that pack up.” Tyler's voice panicked as Simmons pulled her four people back to the cover on either side of the desk. Lupo had died and the three upstairs were spread out into good positions under the banister, giving them cover and a great line of fire.

  Mark pulled the two tabs on his pack's shoulder straps, it dropped on the ground with a large thump. He rolled his shoulders, he hadn't realized how tight the pack had made his back.

  Tyler's thumped down as well.

  “Shotgun.” Mark tossed his to Tyler and the magazines he'd grabbed from the fallen. He flipped the packs and pulled the zippers on them, showing the compartmentalized innards. Magazines for the E-12 and the under-barrel launcher were revealed as well as grenades and a few mines.

  Mark took the mines, arming them and throwing them out into the mess that was the barricades.

  He took mags and laid them out across the desk behind the lip of the counter. A glance upward showed there was a two-foot-wide hole in the shutter now.

  He couldn't see anything through the green tracer rounds that shredded the shutter.

  It was opening faster and faster now.

  “Ready!” Simmons warned.

  Mark pulled his rifle around, replacing the standard mag with a drum version, he checked that there was a round in the chamber and the gun was charged to fire. He checked his pistol and freed his blade and checked the blades in his upper arms.

  Tyler whistled, making Mark look as he waved the shotgun.

  Mark raised his hand and Tyler tossed the rifle to him. Tyler had placed the box magazines of the shotgun around the desk as well. Mark checked the shotgun and raised it towards the entrance.

  The weapons fire abated as Mark saw movements on the other side of the hole, his night vision was gone, but the light of the fires in the lobby shined off of things moving on the other side.

  “Firing a shot,” Mark warned. He nestled behind the gun and titled it upwards, the shell was heavy and the charge wasn't weak, it would make it the fifty feet to the shutter.

  He felt the gun bark, the shell arcing through the four-foot-wide hole, it hit something.

  Yells and screams came back and Barrels came through the hole.

  Well I'm not having that! Mark put another shot through the hole, the attackers rounds went wide, smashing into walls the floor, the ceiling. Explosions ripped through the air as Mark fired in a controlled manner, the enemies fire died down in a few seconds as screams could be heard on the other side. They had damned poor weapon handling skills and hadn't taken the time to aim, Mark did.

  “Out!” Mark said, his gun clicking empty.

  Tyler didn't say anything but started firing into the hole as Mark tossed the empty magazine slapping a new one in and cocking it.

  A new explosion rolled back at him and Tyler, Tyler ducked behind the desk as grey dust filled the room.

  Mark came up.

  Fuck. The four-foot large hole was now replaced with a completely open doorway.

  He fired into what looked like a sea of people. Rounds made him duck back into cover. Shrapnel and crap thrown into the air pelted Mark, finding the places between his armor plates.
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br />   The three on the second floor opened up with their grenade launchers and fired into the now charging colonists.

  “Let them have it!” Simmons yelled, the people on either side of the desk E-12's cut the oncoming colonists down as grenades left ragged holes in their formations.

  Troopers pulled back to reload.

  Mark geared himself up and rose over the desk, rounds exploding everywhere. He fired as fast as he could pull the trigger, ducking back down, grabbing a new mag and moving to a new position.

  The colonists had gotten through the front door and were using anything they could find as cover.

  Smith and Anker went down in a hail of rounds, the corridor was so close that rounds that missed them and hit the wall behind them sending shrapnel into their exposed bodies.

  “Pulling back to the second floor,” Simmons said as she dragged Tullio with her.

  “Out!” Tyler yelled, Mark popped up now five feet from his old position. He fired almost blindly, hitting anyone that was up and running.

  An explosive round hit him in the shoulder, turning him and peppering his arm and neck with shrapnel.

  Thankfully the shoulder stopped the worst of it, leaving his left arm feeling numb.

  He reloaded the shotgun and grabbed his E-12.

  Damon was dead, Jerome was badly wounded but he was doing self-aid and popping grenades off into the front doors. Feng was still putting down fire but there were so many people inside that he couldn't hit them all. Rounds hit the ceiling above him, raining crap down on him and Jerome.

  Not one of them was actively thinking, they were fighting for their lives, pausing for a second could end with them dead.

  Tyler caught a round with the barrel of his gun and fell backwards.

  He threw the useless gun away, probably scared that the rounds would explode from that kind of force.

  “You good?” Mark asked, he stood up, bracing his E-12 as he let a stream of rounds go with the tell-tale vrrt noises of an E-12.

  “Fuck no,” Tyler grumbled, getting back on his feet and grabbing his own E-12 while firing into the doorway.

  The colonists seemed to pull back before a deep and heavy sounding gun that had been moved into position started hammering the lobby.

  Mark jumped away from his position, the gun's heavy rounds smashed through the desk and the wall behind it.

  Mark sighted the side of the desk and launched a grenade into it. It gave him a large enough gap.

  “Move it Tyler!” Mark said, his brother wind milling himself up and then through the hole, Mark just a few feet behind him. He felt his right leg miss his footing as he went sprawling.

  “Fuck!” He felt pain midway up his calf, looking down he felt pain mingle with shock, a round had found his leg and ripped it off.

  “Hold in there Simmons, we're sending some support in,” Pullo said, his voice haggard.

  “Understood sir, We've got five people still in the fight, all injured.”

  “I'm missing my fucking leg!” Mark yelled, more pissed off than anything.

  “You fucking cunts! I like that fucking leg!” Mark pushed himself back towards the wall and edged his way out so he could see the door. The gunner was pausing between bursts, flooding the lobby with colonists.

  Mark popped grenades off as Tyler came up behind him.

  “Stop moving your stub damnit! I'm trying to seal it!”

  “I can't feel the fucking thing, just fix it will you, gimme your gun.” Mark felt Tyler's gun on his shoulder, he grabbed it and hooked his shoulders around them using some debris and the grenade launcher's handle as a pivot.

  His shoulder that had taken a direct hit screamed in pain as he fired. His augments were working to heal him, but they weren't miracle workers, and painkillers would only make him loopy instead of focused.

  He gritted through the pain as he led twin streams across the lobby, cutting down colonists that had been trying to get over the barricade. A few had found the mines, bringing a cold smile to his face.

  The ragged pain coming from his leg abated as Tyler reached down and grabbed his rifle. Mark popped off grenades, that mag running dry.

  He pushed himself into cover as Jerome got in on the action, throwing grenades over the banister he was behind.

  Mark reloaded and Tyler grabbed him.

  “Let's get upstairs,” Tyler said.

  Simmons had dragged the person with her back to the offices. She was injured, not severely but enough. Who’s the person?

  Mark heard the tell-tale sound of artillery screeching through the air.

  “Sounds like a plan,” Mark said, getting up on one foot as Tyler half carried half dragged his hooping ass to the nearest stairs. A tap of his chip opened the doors which would now only accept EMF troopers.

  They moved to the second floor as the ground rumbled with explosions.

  “Shit, that's out front,” Tyler said, both of them quickening their pace, barging through the second floor door as soon as it unlocked and making their best speed to the balcony. Mark jumped free of Tyler, using his right shoulder to take the hit as Jerome looked to them before quickly returning to his grenade throwing.

  Mark and Tyler edged forward at the far sides of the balcony. Feng's mangled corpse lay in the centre. Showing just what the colonist’s machine gun could do.

  That gun was silent but they didn't want to take chances.

  They moved up and were met with a vision from hell, fires lit the lobby and showed the fallen bodies as grenades went off among them.

  Outside the lobby the night was illuminated with white light as artillery shells combed the area. The massive machine gun that had been mounted to the back of an air-transport was on fire.

  “Jerome, hold off on the grenades,” Tyler said. Mark moved his rifle up and put bursts into those that were trying to gain access to the tower, trying to escape the hell outside.

  New fire ripped into them from below. Mark watched as troopers swarmed through the lobby and pushed the colonials back.

  Mark shifted backwards over the rubble and debris from the metal Bannister and the roof that had fallen on the shooters.

  Tyler looked to Jerome, checking his wounds as Mark lay on his back, staring up at the ceiling.

  “No time for sleeping private,” Pullo said.

  Mark tilted his head up and found the Second lieutenant and two medics moving towards the balcony he rested on.

  “I would stand up, but I'd be a little lop-sided,” Mark said.

  Pullo let out a laugh as the medics split between Mark and Jerome. Tyler leaned against the bannister.

  One medic put what looked like a large suitcase with a hole in it on Mark's leg.

  His leg felt, fuzzy was the only way he could describe it.

  “The printer will take about forty minutes for the leg. Gonna have to get that armor off to see to the rest of the damage,” the medic said, Mark caught sight of their name tag.

  “Hey Ferguson, none of that vaccine guinea pig shit this time,” Mark said.

  “Mark Victor! I had the feeling that I'd be seeing you more often,” Ferguson said jokingly.

  “Thanks, means a lot.” Mark's voice was dry as he unclipped the hoses to the air tanks on his back and un-did one side of his upper armor's clips, sliding down and sideways freeing himself of the chest, neck and shoulder armor sections.

  He started undoing his arm armor. Ferguson was running a scanner over him and grabbing items from the outside of the suitcase around what had been Mark's leg.

  Mark had got most of his armor off around the painful areas when Ferguson batted his hands out of the way.

  He sprayed the area, pulled out any crap in Mark's body then gave it a healthy dose of a different spray, then another and slapped a bandage over the various injuries.

  Ferguson had him quickly sorted out and was checking his handy-work a few moments later.

  “Oh for the love of corporations!” Mark said as he got two needles.

  “You sh
ould get some new smart-clothes, armor and a meal, about two hours’ rest and you'll be fine,” Ferguson admonished.

  “I'm still missing my leg,” Mark pointed out.

  “Not for long,” Ferguson countered, leaving Mark with a perplexed look as he went to go and check on Tyler.

  Pullo squatted next to Mark, tapping his good shoulder.

  “Good work Mark, we only lost twenty percent getting over here and Nerva already has people working to clear the tower. There are a few hundred dead outside the lobby. Get some rest and report to me as soon as you three are ready to go.” Pullo looked to Jerome and Tyler, as well. Both of them were under the hands of the medics.

  “Yes sir,” Mark answered.

  “Keep that shit up and you'll all be making corporals,” Pullo said, promise in his voice.

  “Yes sir!” Mark said a bit more enthusiastically. A Corporal's pay was a big jump up from private and an even better jump from boot. He'd be making about forty percent more if the rank stuck.

  Pullo stood and left, probably going to see about other things as Mark settled back into the rubble.

  He woke up to new kit being dropped next to his head.

  “Uggh.” Mark looked up to find Gupta looking down on him.

  “Master Corporal... the fuck?” Mark had rushed to his feet and found he had two of them once again. He looked down at it, remembering what was going on.

  Gupta had a grin on his face, his helmet hanging by its tubes.

  “First regrow eh? It's an odd feeling but it'll quickly feel like you were having an odd dream instead of actually losing a leg,” Gupta said, clearly very familiar with the experience.

  “Yeah,” Mark said, unsure of what to say.

  “Take that kit, get changed and meet the section in the first floor tower command area,” Gupta said.

  “Master corporal,” Mark said nodding in recognition and agreement.

  Gupta turned and left, Mark popped his helmet off, the room smelt like bodies mixed with spent rounds, burnt furniture and burnt barricades. The cermite dust in the air made Mark’s nose itchy like he was back on Earth, but without the pain of the tiny metal particles in the red dust.

  He started removing the remainder of his armor, peeling off the smart-clothes and replacing it all with the kit Gupta had left on the floor.