Sacremon (Harmony War Series Book 1) (29 page)

           
The tower had turned from it's clinical clean outlay into a dust covered mess, holes were ripped through rooms, bodies lay on many surfaces and growing fires colored the walls and roofs with thick smoke.

           
Weapons fire could still be heard and Mark had to pause every so often as the tower shook from a new explosion.

           
Mark simply reacted as people showed up in front of him, his gun letting out the deadly
vrrt
of electronically triggered rounds.

           
“We need help, we're pinned down and we've got enemy pouring in from everywhere!” Gupta said, his voice nearly panicked.

           
“Second Lieutenant Pullo is down, Warrant Drashkov is dead and we're not going to last long.” That admittance made Mark grit his teeth harder as he reloaded.

           
“You good to go?” Mark asked.

           
“You know it,” Tyler said. Mark could hear he was switching out his magazines as well, a new fire filling his voice.

           
These people had saved their lives when they had been trying to hold the lobby, now they were going to repay that favour, fuck these colonists.

           
Mark kept moving forward, finding colonists running towards the sound of battle.

           
He held off shooting, getting closer until he found them milling around, rounds ripping down the corridor in front of them as they popped rounds in the direction of the fire.

           
Mark remembered an old song, one of his old boss's favourites.

           
“You'll take my life but I'll take yours too. You'll fire your musket but I'll run you through. So when you're waiting for the next attack. You'd better stand there's no turning back,” he muttered the lines as he fired precise burst after burst into those in front of him.

           
Mark's mag clicked empty and he slammed a new magazine in with the precision of someone whose life depended on the process.

           
There were about twenty bodies in that hallway. The hallway continued on the other side of the corridor which was filled with repulsor rounds.

           
Mark's gun bucked in his shoulder again. Tyler was firing as well. He could feel the recoil of Tyler's weapon on his back. The repulsor fire and the exploding rounds from the colonists 'shotguns' blocked out all other noise and thought.

           
Mark felt whine of the
vrrt vrrt vrrrt
's more than he heard them. He saw their effect just fine.

           
“MOVE IT! CORRIDOR CLEAR AT MY POSITION!” Mark yelled popping grenades across the corridor to make sure nothing else was moving.

           
“Turning,” Mark warned Tyler.

           
“Got it,” Tyler said as Mark pushed through an office, he reloaded his rifle, pointing it at a new wall and stroking the grenade launcher's trigger. The wall blew apart and Mark carried Tyler through it, turning so they faced different directions. Mark fired as soon as he was out, this hallway was less packed, but there were still about ten people in his way, threatening his friends.

           
Cold eyes watched as his rounds struck home, cutting colonists down, their fire abated.

           
“Moving up, we're going to the elevators,” Gupta said.

           
Mark grunted agreement. Going into another pod, this one a home, blowing a hole into another housing pod and going out of that door. He could see that the remainder of the platoon were hustling their wounded out as fast as possible.

           
Dolche and the two other repulsor gunners didn't fuck about, the corporation’s rules be damned, they fired through walls, making anyone seriously re-think trying to stop them.

           
Gupta reached the brothers, Mark nearly put a burst into him, both of them pointing weapons at one another for a few seconds. They had gone into the black hard.

           
Gupta raised his left hand, Mark did the same and followed the Master Corporal falling in with the rest of the platoon which was now barely a section.

           
They huddled into an elevator, Dolche and the repulsors letting their anger be known as their rounds ran like rivers between their legs, ripping into walls and anyone that dared to show themselves.

           
They got into the elevator and Gupta hit the manual opening system, the doors slamming shut.

           
“Looks like the people in the lobby are fighting it out. We're going to the fifth to get our wounded checked out and re-arm,” Gupta said, manually putting commands into the elevator.

           
The command centre must be gone then.
Mark put a fresh mag into his launcher and E-12. Others followed suit.

           
“Stay still,” Gupta said, taking Mark's med pack and working on Tyler.

           
“He's lost a lot of blood, and that explosive round fucked him up royally. He's out of it right now. I think we're going to have to cryo-him and get some kind of transport up to Reclaimer, I don't think that even the medics down here can help him,” Gupta said, doing what he could to Tyler who had fallen unconscious at some point.

           
Mark used his implants to look at the planet, it was still declared NR as two-thirds of the troopers on Sacremon, close to six times the number of forces on the ground at this point, waited to descend on the planet.

           
If the NR wasn't released somehow, Tyler would die. Cryo was only used if someone was about to die, to prolong the amount of time they needed until treatment. From Gupta's tone Tyler didn't have long.

           
They got off on the fourth floor, they moved through, wounded moved through, the medics doing quick work to get them turned around and back downstairs. Even through five floors Mark could hear the repulsors firing.

           
How long until they run out of rounds and the enemy gets in here or they descend from above us?
Mark got looks as he pushed people out of the way.

           
The fu...” A Master Corporal with a leg gash said, hobbling to regain their balance. Their words died as they looked at the ragged mess Mark was and the casualty on his back.

           
Haggard medics and less wounded troopers helped get Tyler off of Mark's back and onto a desk table.

           
Mark felt damned tired and sunk to the floor, using it as a rest.

           
Medics went to work on Tyler before a portable pod was brought out.

           
It was a simple plastic thing, looked like an accordion, except when it was pulled it opened up into something about coffin size instead of making noise. At the top it held a panel with numbers and readings. Mark watched them put Tyler into the pod as if he was in some kind of dream. A medic played with the settings on the top and Tyler's breathing went from slow and shallow to non-existence.

           
Mark stirred, anger pushing him forward.

           
“He's in cryo, don't worry about it,” the medic Darzi said as he pushed his shoulder back against the table.

           
“Now your turn, up on the table and let me see that side of yours,” Darzi grunted, helping to pull Mark into standing.

           
Mark was able to get his ass on the table, his legs wobbly from their exertion.

           
“Good work Mark,” Gupta said, coming from wherever he'd been. Mark had been so focused on getting Tyler to a medic that he'd lost track of where the remainder of his section was.

           
“If you hadn't cleared out those hallways...” Gupta trailed off.

           
Mark saw the shadows under Gupta's eyes, his helmet was in his hand.

           
“No worries, Sarge,” Mark said, seeing the new stripe on Gupta's arm. “Just doing what I'd want someone to do in my position,”

           
“Well after this I owe you a beer. I'm taking the rest of the section that are capable and reinforcing those in the lobby, we're running low on repulsor ammo and the other towers have fallen, there's only us now.”

           
“We'll win, got to,” Mark said determination fighting against sleep that pulled him down.

           
“Sorry Sarge, I gave him a sedative, he's going to be out real quick. I have to pull shrapnel and parts of his own armor out of his side. He's not going to want to be awake for that,” Darzi said.

           
“Do what you need to, the man's my good luck charm I want him up and ready to go as soon as possible.” Gupta's voice made it clear it was a priority.

           
Mark let his eyes close, his body relaxing, muscles that he hadn't known had been clenched let go with almost euphoric release.

Chapter 12

           
Tower

           
Earth, Sol system

            8/3169

           
Not many of the troopers knew that their feeds were being relayed to their carrier and then beamed to any crazed adrenaline junkie CEO that paid a high enough price to see that footage.

           
Tachyon transmission technology made the universe seem like a much smaller place.

           
The consumers had flocked to the paid channel and the investment more than paid for the troopers extra training and tanks.

           
People loved to watch violence, the rawer and bloodier, the higher the cost.

           
He looked over the reports coming from his intelligence department who were acting as announcers, highlighting the most popular clips, throwing in information that Nivad or the viewers might find interesting. Such as the fact that the Troopers against a colonist revolution would be terrifying, bets were already being placed on the outcome of a battle between Reclaimer’s troopers and their next colonist uprising.

           
More bets were being placed on casualty ratios and the outcomes of Guaranak.

           
A message interrupted Nivad’s thoughts, the sound almost stunning him into inaction. No one called him unless it was of vital importance.

           
“Go,” Nivad’s voice cool as he accepted the call.

           
“There’s been a report out from Masoul. We believe that there is an underground religious network in play,” Dalia, Nivad’s assistant said, her voice level and emotionless. She had been in his service for five decades and more than earned her life-extending drugs. If Nivad came close to actually trusting a person, it was Dalia. She was certainly one of the few that he listened to and allowed to critique his plans.

           
Which made her simple message turn away from his holographic imager in thought.

           
“Go on,” he said.

           
“We have had only one report, but the source has been reliable, even through all of their checks for the last thirty years. They are placed in the mining facilities and have taken a position as CEO living on Masoul prime. It was only through their closeness to the population that they picked up rumors of not only a religious taint, but a possible group. They have not been able to confirm or deny the information. Their position as CEO puts them at a disadvantage. They wish to go undercover for more subterfuge,” Dalia said in her analytical and cool voice.

           
Neither Nivad nor Dalia ever said the name of informants or referenced which sex they belonged to. One never knew who was possibly listening in.

           
“Very well give them clearance, take measures to ready other agents if needed,” Nivad said.

           
“Yes sir,” Dalia answered, taking that as her cue to cut the channel.

           
Nivad’s eyes slid over to the holographic images of the Reclaimer’s troopers.

           
When Earth had started to colonize the stars they had initially expanded in the direction of Guaranak. Fifty years into exploration they had diverted their explorations to the other side of the sphere which became Earth’s colonies.

For a hundred-and-fifty-years people had been sent to these planets. They had the largest population centers of humans other than Earth itself. If something was going wrong with them, or they incited a rebellion then Strike station in Masoul would go active.