Masoul (Harmony War Series Book 2) (6 page)

              “Ahh, well we should work on that. There’s not much time to talk before you knock me out most times,” Mark said, in a mocked serious tone.

              She smacked his arm playfully.

              “Make me sound as if I take a club to your head!”

              “Wouldn’t be the first time,” Mark said as he rubbed his head, pretending to find the area where he was hit.

              “You better try to keep that noggin in better condition,” she said, as she pointed to his head seriously.

              “You concerned about the state of my noggin now?” Mark said playfully.

              She bit her lip, looked to the ceiling and shook her head.

              “As a trained medical professional, yes I do care about your noggin.” Her eyes sparkled, the corners of her eyes tight.

              “Why, I am touched by your concern Ms. Watabe,” Mark said.

              Suddenly, he heard a ping on his implants. The ringer was set to one person.

              “Looks like I’ve got to go. Cap-Major Nerva needs me,” Mark said, as he stood up and became all-business.

              “Swing by sometime,” Lucille said. The statement was more of a cautious question.

              “Well I have to make sure that all my implants are working, after all,” Mark said, as his playful smile returned. “See you later.”

              Both of them shared a look before Mark pulled away.

Chapter 7

             
EMFC Reclaimer

             
Earth, Sol System

             
3/3206

              Mark made his way through
Reclaimer
’s once confusing hallways. A glance to the codes on the walls led him to the Major’s office, deep in officer territory. His arm seemed like a fan from all the officer high-fives he gave out. If there was something he hated the most about the military, it was fucking saluting.

              He caught sight of Tyler, and quickly caught up with him.

              “What’s up?’ Tyler asked.

              “I know as much as you,” Mark shrugged. Jerome was waiting outside Major Nerva’s quarters.

              Jerome knocked on the door as the other two got close. Jerome stepped inside when it opened, and Mark and Tyler followed behind him.

              Jerome was already waved away from a salute.

              Nerva’s office was Spartan as ever. Most officers - especially those at the rank of Major, the last rank in the field - had a ‘love me wall.’ It showed off everything they did to become the great and powerful people they were.

              Nerva had his armor on one rack, and his E-12 on his desk. His pistol was in parts on the table, which faced a view screen that was surrounded by couches.

              He also had a smoking cigar on his desk. Everyone had their vices in the EMF, and smokable stimulants were a big thing.

              Nerva looked at them. His whole face could have been cut from granite, with all the emotion it conveyed. It was considered an almost momentous occasion if someone could get him to smile. Mark didn’t think that he ever heard the man laugh.

              Even Tyler was beginning to think that the man might not be capable of it.

              That said, he was one of the best officers and person Mark ever served with. They had one another’s backs on a few occasions. The Captain-turned-Major showed that he was capable of moving more than one plan ahead at a time, but he always had a clear goal. He was going to finish his mission, and he was going to make sure that he got as many of his people back alive as possible.

              Everyone in
Reclaimer
’s third force second division knew that. They trusted
their
Major implicitly - something that was rarer than platinum in the EMF.

              “You three have been accelerated through the ranks at a hellish rate. A fact that is going to make issues in your new chain of commands,” Nerva said, as he looked to them all. His icy blue eyes made sure they heard his words. “I want our Division to be the best in all of
Reclaimer
. To do that, I am going to need you three and all of the veterans of Second regiment to show what we do. You three are carrying my name, and the name of the regiment. You fuck up, you make us all look bad, got it?”

              “Yes sir!” they chorused.

              “Good. You’re going to have to show why you’re Master Corporal material. Mark, I don’t want anyone in the infirmary,” Nerva said. Mark looked unrepentant. If anyone came wanting a fight, they would find one some people from the slums didn’t learn unless there was violence.

              “For too long,” Nerva amended.

              “I’ll try, sir,” Mark said. There were a few people Mark would never lie to. The three other men in that room were some of those few people.

              “You’ll be meeting your sections tonight. Get to know them, and work with them. Most have done more drops than you. Some will have things worth listening to. Others won’t listen to you. See that they do. Having people under your command that won’t listen to you is like carrying a grenade in your back pocket with the primer ready. You’re just waiting for a jolt to go off,” Nerva said, as he sat back in his chair. “Use that anger, direct it towards our enemies and show that you’re worth their loyalty.”

Chapter 8

             
EMFC Reclaimer

             
Earth, Sol System

             
4/3206

              Jerome looked up from his book as the first person walked into his three-person section pod. The other nine berths were empty. Their occupants either didn’t make it back from Sacremon, or they were shuffled across the ship to try and get at least a few bodies in each section pod.

              They were utilitarian and bland, but they were a home that Jerome never found back on Earth.

              “How’s it going?” Jerome asked the Corporal that walked into the pod.

              “Not bad. This second div, two-alpha-two-three?” he said, referring to Second division, second regiment, Alpha company, second Platoon Three section. He looked at the spare bunks, looked less than pleased with his new assignment. His nametape said Dushresznikov.

              “Yup,” Jerome said, as others came in the room.

              “Hey Dooks, you in two-three?” said another corporal, who came into the room. Her nametape read Rudkin.

              “Hey Rud, don’t tell me you’re in here too.”

              “Embrace the suck,” Rudkin’s voice flat as they tapped fists.

              Jerome watched them briefly. As they bantered, he went back to reading his book.

              Qi and Alvarez glanced at the newcomers and kept to their game. They were good troopers, but like everyone from Sacremon, they liked the company of fellow Sacremon veterans over all else.

              In the past, Jerome played a few games with them and went over stories. Qi was a boot, and now he was a corporal. Alvarez was a private, and went to Corporal. He was offered a Master Corporal position, but he didn’t go for it. He was happy being a Corporal for his term.

              Three more piled in short order.

              Dell, Connolly and Cai came in and found their places. They started to pull their gear from their duffels, and stuffed them in their lockers.

              Sergeant Reyes walked in. He had more olive to his tan, an angry eyebrow, and the stature of a boxer. He dropped his gear on his bed.

              “Come with me,” he said through gritted teeth, as he flashed an angry look to Jerome.

              Qi and Alvarez looked up from their game. Jerome gave them a slight negative tilt of his head. They didn’t serve in the same area of Sacremon, except for Processing. It was a large city, but they all went through a similar hell. There was still a bond with them, one he couldn’t explain that was summed up in that look.

              They had his back, no matter what.

              He walked into the showers, as he followed Sergeant Reyes.

              “Close the door.” Jerome could feel the anger that Sergeant Reyes was keeping at bay.

             
Fuck, I don’t want to go through this,
Jerome thought, closing the door.

              “Alright, let me get one damned fucking thing straight. I don’t care who the fuck you are or the Major’s ass you kissed to get your damned position. I will only have people in positions of power if they deserve it. Sure you’ll be called Master Corporal, but I will find someone to actually take the position so we don’t all die like your last section,” Reyes snarled.

              Jerome’s face twisted in anger.

              “Serg…”

              “Do I make myself perfectly fucking clear,” Reyes cut off Jerome, as he got in his face.

              Jerome kept his fists at his side. “You want to punch me you little shit? Go for it. Make my job easier by just getting you out of my section.”

              Reyes’ eyes seemed to glimmer with anticipation as he pushed his jaw out. “Right here c’mon, one shot.”

              “Not worth it, and I earned this position. You get in my way Sergeant or do anything that puts our people at risk. Well, I know some people that are
very
good at organizing accidents,” Jerome said. As he spoke, he allowed the face of someone that killed - and did it well - to rise to the surface.  If pushed, this person was just the right kind of crazy to do it. It wasn’t far from the truth.

              “Why I -”

              “I earn…”

              “I’m fucking talking,” Reyes said, as he slapped Jerome.

              Jerome took the hit, and his anger rose.

              Jerome pushed his anger down, and turned to remove himself from the situation.

              Reyes went on about how Jerome should stay at attention. Jerome knew that if he was stuck in the room anymore, he would do something he regretted.

              Reyes tried to pull Jerome back. Jerome was a lot stronger and more augmented. Reyes nearly fell over as Jerome left the room, and entered the section’s barracks.

              All of the troopers looked at Jerome as he entered. It seemed that they heard Reyes’ yelling.

              “Welcome to Alpha Company, Second platoon, third section. Get a bunk, stow your shit, the Major will brief us at dinner. Tomorrow we start training. My name is Master Corporal Jerome. I dropped onto Sacremon as a boot with these two,” Jerome pointed to Qi and Alvarez, who looked over the rest of the room with cool stares. Their eyes rested on Reyes.

              “Yes, that is all very nice,
Master Corporal
,” Reyes said with a laugh on his lips, as if Jerome’s rank was laughable. The other corporals and privates in the room looked at their section commanders with confusion.

              “Sorry Sergeant, I’m not finished,” Jerome said politely to Reyes, who didn’t say anything but clamp his lips together into an angry white line. “We landed on Sacremon with a full carrier, twenty-six thousand made it off alive. This ship and its crew are no longer looking to make the Bare Minimum. The EMF has picked us for a new training program. We’re going to be in the hottest damned drops the EMF can find for us. Over the next few months, we’re going to train harder than we have ever been trained in our entire lives. This training will save our lives if we listen to it. If we don’t, then we’re all going to be as fucked as a sleeper ship ramming into a star.”

              Jerome looked over the people in the room. The clearly hostile relationship between their two main leaders, and what he just said, left an awkward feeling in the room. They didn’t know how to respond.

              “Sergeant, did you have anything to say?” Jerome asked Reyes.

              “No, be ready for the briefing,” Reyes said, a troubled look in his eyes now as he wandered out of the barracks.

              “Fucking Reyes,” said Dooks, as he cursed his bad luck.

              “What’s wrong?” Jerome asked.

              Dooks back tracked.

              “Nothing, Master Corporal,” he said.

              “I ain’t gonna get you in shit, just tell me about him,” Jerome pressed.

              “He stays in the rear with the gear, sending his people out to the front while he finds perfectly good excuses to stay safe. He buddied up with officers, and they got him his current rank. He was bucking for warrant when this gig came up. The officers thought that he was a good troop, and must have sent him on this. He’s probably pissed that he’s going to have to be a real trooper now.” Dooks shook his head. His blue eyes were sharp with intelligence - intelligence that Jerome felt was angled towards jokes more than anything useful.