Masoul (Harmony War Series Book 2) (57 page)

              They had come from gangs to the stability of the EMF.

              Tyler had sleepless nights over Sacremon. General Orlav had fought with honor; he wanted to make a system that bettered his people. The problem was he’d used a system that looked to control the companies and had failed dozens of times before.

              The rebels on Sacremon had had a great life, and they had given it up to fight for their beliefs for the better of all. Harmony only looked to empower the few, using colorful language and fear.

              He remembered Madam Song’s story and clenched his fist.

              “Babe?” Alexis asked, patting his knee and looking at him, her voice low.

              “Sorry, I was thinking again,” Tyler admitted, the anger sitting heavily in his chest.

              “What about?” she asked in almost a whisper.

              “About killing all of those Harmony fucks,” Tyler said.

              Tyler saw anger tighten her features, and she nodded in understanding.

              “I suddenly understand why Mark spends so much time in the gym,” she said, raising her brow in question.

              “Shall we?” Tyler asked, knowing their date night was ruined.

              “Yeah.” They got out of their seats and walked out of the entertainment center.

              They held one another’s hands and headed for the gym.

              “Sorry,” Tyler said.

              “Don’t worry about it, babe, I know the feeling. These Harmony fuckers stepped over a line, and I’m happy to bury them for it.” She glanced at him then, some of the anger dimming a bit. “You owe me a date night, though, and it better be damned good!”

              “I will endeavor to do my best,” he said, giving her an extravagant bow.

Chapter 51

             
EMFC Reclaimer

             
Masoul System heading for Osdal System

             
11/3242

              Nerva ignored the messages from Legate Aurelius and instead looked to the reports of his troopers. They had gone through three bad battles since entering Masoul.

              All too many had died. Not even the legion ships could get through Masoul Actual’s atmosphere with Reclaimer and Fearless orbiting. The potential for being spotted was too high.

              He looked over the information that interim General Domashev had passed on to him. It reported the transport of ten thousand powered armor units to Reclaimer. Now Domashev wanted Nerva to get a division ready to fight in powered armor without having it on hand.

              He had looked over the powered armor currently hanging out in a cleared-out ammunition dump in Reclaimer. It was rudimentary compared to the armor he had used with the legion, but it worked.

              It amplified the user’s power, had decent armor, and it wasn’t all that hard to use. It was more prone to breaking down than legion powered armor, but it would hopefully work.

              NIDenise had told him that all information the legion was getting from Osdal was off limits. The reasoning was that Nivad was watching closely and Nerva needed to react to the information naturally.

              Knowing information before it was given to him might make people suspicious.

              Nerva understood it, and he hated it.

              He sighed and stood, grabbing a box of cigars and throwing them in his leg pocket. He took a moment to send a message as he threw his beret on his head.

              He walked out of the office. People saluted him as he passed and he saluted them back. Those that knew him gave him a nod in greeting; he hated saluting.

              It didn’t take long for him to get a lift out of officer country and to his division’s area. No one saluted him down here, and he pulled his beret off, stuffing it in a leg pocket.

              He greeted people by name, ignoring ranks as he breezed through, finally arriving at an out-of-the-way observation port that many might have taken for a maintenance closet for the tight squeeze into it and the electronic panels one was greeted with.

              Once past that, it opened up into a large observation deck with couches spread out in a broken U-shape facing the massive glass sheet that looked out into space.

              Masoul lay out there, a ball of angry mother nature. A small stream of ships’ lights could be traced to Landing City—resistance people leaving the horrors of the planet behind.

              Nerva stepped out, seeing the Triple-Twos and Combat Shuttle One-Four-Nine’s crew partaking in the drinks produced by a still working in the corner.

              Lieutenant Yu spat out his drink and his eyes bulged as Nerva walked in.

              “Something the matter?” Nerva asked the lieutenant. Dashtund, the proud owner of the still, gave Nerva a drink, grinning the entire time.

              Nerva’s face didn’t even twitch as he drank the drink, and Jerome shifted his ass on a crate so the Major could sit down.

              “Uhh, nothing, sir,” Yu said, clearly expecting to get yelled at for drinking from an illegal still.

              “Dashtund, get me a damn pouch, will you? I swear I got fatter since the last time I was in here,” Ortiz growled, shifting his short but wide bulk into the space.

              Dashtund filled up another pouch and handed it to the man. Captain Sholtz, Division Sergeant Major Dalton, and most of the officers, their warrants and sergeant majors all grabbed a drink and took a seat.

              Nerva pulled out the box of cigars he’d stuffed in his pocket.

              He showed them to Jerome, opening the box with Cohelans branded into its lid.

              “Don’t mind if I do,” Jerome said, pulling a cigar from the box. Nerva took one as well, as it made its rounds. Some grabbed a cigar, while others pulled out cigarettes or didn’t partake in tobacco products at all.

              Nerva looked to Mark and Tyler, who each had cigars.

              His eyes moved to Jerome beside him. They were no longer jumpy recruits; they were troopers hardened through war. The years had aged them. He saw that age and the fatigue not born from a lack of sleep, but from being at war for so long, in their faces and the faces in the observation deck.

              Jerome had already chewed his cigar open and lit the tip, and was contentedly puffing on it. Nerva put his in his mouth, and Jerome held the light out. Nerva made sure it was lit tasting the smoke before letting it out in a sigh.

              “Thanks,” Nerva said, sitting back into the chair and puffing on the cigar.

              People had quiet conversations as they looked through the wide-open glass that showed Masoul slowly falling away.

              Nerva slowly rose, exhaling cigar smoke and raising his drinking pouch. The others in the room took note and rose as well, conversation falling away.

              “To the fallen, to our brothers and sisters. May we fight in honor of them.” Nerva held his pouch higher before taking a deep drink.

              He looked to the others in the room. They took their seats, strong men and women letting out emotions that they didn’t let out around the lower ranks.

              Nerva sat.

              “So what will happen in Osdal?” Jerome asked, before holding his own cigar to his lips.

              “We’ll wipe Harmony out there and anywhere else they show up,” Nerva said, his voice cold and hard.

              “Yes, sir,” Jerome said, looking from Masoul to Nerva, trust and agreement in his eyes, which had been hardened already by too much war and loss.

              Nerva drank from his pouch to hide his face and to buy himself a moment to collect his thoughts. Many more people would die in Osdal; too many had died already. He would not rest until Harmony was but a footnote in the EMF’s history books. He didn’t care about the losses; he didn’t care about the wins. He didn’t feel the anxiety or excitement that others felt. He was interested by the power he wielded as the head of the Ministry of Intelligence, with a bank account that rivaled a corporation’s.

              He
liked
playing with companies and corporations. War was wasteful to his system. It was necessary to have the EMF, but to have war? For that, he would remove Harmony from existence.

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