Masoul (Harmony War Series Book 2) (7 page)

              “I heard about Sacremon, say it’s the worst battle in seven decades. Also restricted the shit out of the live feeds. Probably didn’t want to show us how bad it was before getting us over here. How bad was it?”

              “The stuff of nightmares,” Jerome said, as he remembered the towers of Sacremon, and the constant fighting to push back the colonists who kept pushing on with near-fanatical determination.

              “You want to see Sacremon, I’ve got some of the live feeds,” Alvarez said, as he pulled out a storage cube.

              A few took him up on the offer.

              Jerome settled back onto his bed, and wanted to send the recording of Reyes’ actions to Tyler. If he sent it to Mark, then Reyes would probably be stuffed out of an airlock within the hour.

             
Maybe later.

              ***

              Mark looked over Sergeant Haas as he walked into his pod.

              Sergeant Quiv Haas was about five-foot-five. All his height seemed to go into his bulky width. He had a tanned complexion, with hair barely bristled on his scalp and thick eye brows. His face and hands were leathery from hard work.

              His eyes thinned and his brow furrowed as he looked at Mark. He flicked to his rank tab, and back to his face.

              Even though he was five-foot-five, that expression made Mark’s spine do everything it could to get just a bit taller and straighter.

              “Sergeant, I’m Master Corporal Mark,” he said, as he held his hand out to the Sergeant. The Sargeant’s brows came together at something he found odd in Mark’s words.

              “Don’t use your last name Victor?” Haas asked, as he gave him a firm handshake.

              “Ahh, well my brother has the same last name and the same rank. We’ve used our first names since basic so there isn’t any confusion. Plus he’s in two section,” Mark said.

              “Yes, that would get rather confusing,” Haas said. “You know what’s going on?”

              “Got a meeting with the Major at dinner and training will start tomorrow,” Mark said.

              “That’s going to be annoying,” Haas said, as he dropped his bag onto a bunk.

              “The Major won’t care if we’re eating or not, as long as we’re listening,” Mark shrugged.

              “What’s he like?” Haas said seriously. He wanted to gauge Mark’s reaction on Nerva to make an initial judgement.

              “He’s a good officer, leads from the front unlike most. He kept a lot of us alive on Sacremon, even in an NR situation,” Mark said. His face tightened as he remembered how it felt to be told that no reinforcements were coming. They didn’t come until the city was cleared enough to allow them to be safely inserted.

              Haas nodded. His approval or disapproval wasn’t clear. But he understood.

              “Well we’d best get there a bit early so we’re not stuck in a damned line for a few hours,” Haas said with a raised voice, so the rest of the section could hear him. “Get your shit stowed, or at least in the lockers, within ten minutes.”

              Haas looked around.

              “Yes, Sergeant,” the calls came back. They weren’t the scared shouts of recruits, but rather the respectful understanding of veterans.

              Haas looked to unpack his bag, and Mark went back to lying on his rack.

             
When you can sit, sit, lie down, lie down, sleep, sleep.
The age-old mantra went through his head, as he used his implants and the interactive paper to flick through his latest reading material that Nerva recommended.

              “You on Sacremon?” Haas asked, just as his last page appeared above him.

              “Yes, Sergeant,” Mark said, as he closed his hand. He tossed it sideways, removing the book from his view as he sat up.

              “What wave?” Haas said, as he pulled things out of his duffel and slid them into his locker.

              “First, on Growing City,” Mark said. He wasn’t able to keep his brow from pulling together in memory.

              Haas looked around, and some kind of mental tally moved behind his eyes.

              Thankfully, he left the subject alone after that.

              Mark couldn’t get back to his book, and thought of Growing City and Sacremon again. He laid back on his bed. He didn’t need to turn his implants on as memories shifted.

              He saw the faces of the rest of his section that were left on Sacremon in unmarked graves, so that the settlers wouldn’t screw with the troopers that were laid to rest.

              People moved to the doorway. Mark got to his feet, and followed them. There were only three types of layouts for the carriers in Earth’s Military Forces. The changes to the areas, which the troopers operated in, were the same in all three variants.

              Everyone knew where the mess hall was.

              Mark tilted, flicked his fingers, or grinned to greet other original members of
Reclaimer
in passing.

              Trays were grabbed, and food was slapped, poured, dropped and heaped onto them as troopers, medics, and techs filed through and took seats.

              Haas led the section to their assigned table. Everyone slotted into seats, and made chit chat. They tried to get to know the people who, ultimately, would have their lives in their hands.

              Nerva and a group of Captains sat at their own table. They ate, talked, and did the exact same thing as everyone else in the room.

              “You got any augments?” Cpl Dominguez asked Mark, as he grabbed his spoon.

              “Yep, why you ask?” Mark asked, curious rather than annoyed. A lot of people were freaked out by augments, but not Dominguez.

              Dominguez wasn’t the tallest or prettiest girl. She was almost as tanned as Jerome, and had a build that reminded Mark of his good friend.

             
Definitely a fighter,
Mark thought, as his eyes slid to her hands, arms and back to her face - which looked like it was put back in the correct order, unlike Jerome’s.

              “No offense meant. I’ve got four, myself,” she said. She took his glances to mean he was sizing her up for a fight. “I heard that higher is opening up the really good ones?”

              Her eyes held his in question.

              “I heard the same. I’m hoping they have the new sixth sense,” Mark said with a grin. It defused any possible tension, and she grinned with relief and happiness to know that she found someone with the same interests as her.

              “They might be doing the medical assists as well,” she said, as she dumped in a mouthful of food.

              “I got one of those, fifth gen,” Mark said, as he tapped where the implant Richter gave him resided.

              “Wah, ‘ow?” Dominguez asked through a mouthful of food.

              “Don’t mind her, Master Corporal. She usually doesn’t try to cover you with her food
all
the time,” Private Ko said. He had long brown hair, odd purple eyes, and a companionable smile on his face.

              Dominguez rolled her eyes, and her cheeks pulled back in a smile as she made sure to chew her food.

              “We aren’t all Southern complex pretty boys with dainty manners,” Dominguez shot back as soon as she could.

              The others watched the good-natured byplay with interest.

              “Well, just having some manners might do Westerly complex some good,” Ko said with a smile that made Mark’s own cheeks tighten.

              Before they could continue, there was a loud banging from Nerva’s table. The Major stood in the middle of the mess, rather than take the podium that was usually reserved for higher-ups who wanted to make speeches.

              “We’re here to become the EMF’s best damned sledge hammer. We’re going to train until we make Spartans look down on us in respect. We’re going to be put in some shitty spots, so don’t slack off. You do and then you, or the person next to you, will be staying on whatever planet we are sent to. Yes, we are all going to get a pay increase, but that is only if all of you meet the standards that I set. You don’t make the cut, then I will drop you faster than a Kinetic Energy Weapon hammering a colony. Others will take your place, you will lose the pay and have a mark on your record.”

             
A mark on a person’s record was enough of a reason to get them kicked out well before they got to their retirement age.

              Mark saw the faces harden around the room, as the same thought passed through their minds in the few moments Nerva looked around.

              “This was not my recommendation, but I will not hesitate to get you the hell off of
Reclaimer
- for not only your health, but the health of your section.”

               Again, he let those words settle in the troopers’ minds around him.

              “Look after one another, and train like your lives depend on it. They will. I’ll be seeing you throughout training.” With that, Nerva took a seat and people began to talk again after a few seconds. It didn’t quite rise to its boisterous levels of before.

              “A mark if we don’t make the cut, damn that’s harsh,” Corporal Tal said.

              “All the more reason to make sure that we train like the devil himself was chasing us,” Sergeant Haas said. Officially, Earth and her Colonies were non-religious. Religion hurt the bottom line. It generally pissed off corporations because it caused bickering, and reinforced archaic thoughts.

              Happy workers not fighting over religion was a better working atmosphere. Every thing came down to cost and benefit ratios.

              Even with religion officially dead, someone that was around death so much always found a few religious sayings or sent silent plea bargains to a few idols.

              A message pinged on Mark’s implants. He pulled out smart paper, and put it on the table as he ate.

              Haas did the same. Both of them read with one eye as they put food in their faces. The rest of the table quieted down, as their leaders finished their reading and looked to one another.

              Mark shrugged a shoulder and opened his hand, emphasizing ‘well it could be worse.’

              Haas nodded, clearing his throat.

              “Alright, we’ve got fifteen minutes before we’re due in medical. Then we’re over to the armory to get suited, booted and make sure everything is good to go. Then we’re on
Resolute
’s training grounds for the next week,” Sergeant Haas said, which was met with groans.

              “What are we doing in
Resolute
’s training grounds for a week?” Cpl Harris asked her epithanic folds, thinned in curiosity over her blue eyes which contrasted against her lightly tanned skin and black hair.

              “We’re going to be fighting the best troopers from EMFC Educator,” Sergeant Haas said.

              “Awesome,” Dominguez sighed, tossing food back.

              Mark’s eyes flickered over the mess and settled on Tyler, who was talking to his Sergeant Alvarez. She was built like a runner. Her blonde hair was cut shorter than Tyler’s,  and her back was ramrod straight.

              Mark turned back to his paper. His implants were second-nature to him, now that he set the movements.

              He looked at Lucille’s message. She sent him a list of items that might interest him. He caught sight of optical implants – which allowed him to operate his implants without the use of his helmet or smart paper.

             
I honestly don’t know why they didn’t have something like this before.

              He placed an order for them, and looked to Dominguez.

              “Looks like they have optical augments that allow you to use your HUD without your helmet or paper,” he said.

              “Put me in for a pair of those. Who’s your implanter?” Haas asked.

              “Lucille, sending contact info,” Mark said. His hand and fingers moved quickly for a half-second, and finished with a pushing motion towards Haas.

              “Got it,” he said, as one if his hands moved. He returned to eating.

              ***

              “So tell me about Mark Victor.” Lucille said, curled up in the crook of his arm as they sat in one of the observation lounges, looking at Earth.

              “What’s there to tell?” Mark smiled looking at her.

              “You always try to avoid making yourself seem anything less than the perfect trooper, why?” She asked.

              “I’m not perfect by any means,” Mark sighed, looking to Earth.

              “So tell me about you, I want to know,” She said.