Sacremon (Harmony War Series Book 1) by Michael Chatfield Page A

fire.
                Thankfully those that did throw up got their helmets open to throw up into the grate running down the center of the seats.
                Mark chewed his gum with grim determination as his stomach lurched and butterflies filled him. His inner ear tried to convince him he was going to crash, the rest of his body wished they could murder his inner ear, and the simulated dickhead in the cockpit.
                The movement increased as they got lower, the enemy fire was more accurate at this level.
                More people threw up and Mark’s clothes chilled, air blowing on his face at a higher rate to fight his nausea.
                Seats moved and they were hoisted into the air and turned so they were all facing forward. They checked one another’s gear, the holographic Cargo Master checked Mark and the other three people on the end, holographic and not.
                Green lights came on as harnesses checked out.
                Doors opened below their feet, ground rushed past, lush forest and fields. The shuttle dove hard, pushing the recruits on a slight angle. They leveled and Mark was dropping through the air.
                He almost swallowed his gum, as soon as he was clear of the craft, the person in front of him was coming down. It looked like four waves of troopers descended.
                His helmet beeped telling him he was ten feet from the ground, his descent speed was good, he grabbed the manual release.
                It activated perfectly and he hit the ground, rolling and coming up with his weapon.
                He checked the area with his gun, using his gloves to manipulate the information. He’d get implants to make the whole thing faster when he became a trooper.
                He picked a site two kilometers away from their drop point, sending it to the whole platoon.
                The last person dropped to the ground.
                “All around defense,” Mark said, the Section moved into a circle, they weren’t trusting the holograms that made their own circle.
                The combat shuttle’s engines were already fading away, the trees shaking.
                Mark had thought the trees and green of the planet interesting the first few times he’d been in the training area. Now they were just a new challenge, new opportunities.
                “Alright, move in fire teams. Bravo upfront with the pulse, Alpha on me behind them, Charlie, Delta and pulse trail. Move for the Platoon objective,” Mark said. Green lights filled his screen.
                “Move out,” Mark said, the repulsors moved to either side of the line as the rest of the section spread out, weapons section mimicked them, moving parallel.
    ***
                Fredrickson’s eyes returned to the room as she stopped using her implants.
                “Well this should be interesting,” she said, sipping coffee.
                “Better, win, I bet Ting thirty credits,” Balhauser said exhaling his fragrant smoke, his look of perpetual annoyance and weightlifting pucker would make most people think he was angry.
                Fredrickson had been around Balhauser for seven years, a lifetime in the EMF. She could see the glimmer of excitement in his eyes. They both knew their platoon had what it took. At this point they wouldn’t be happy to lose people. Once someone was broken here they were no use as a trooper.
                If you said you couldn’t crack it once, then it was all the easier to fail again. Fredrickson and Balhauser were not in the practice of letting failures through their training.
                Their Platoon had regrouped and moved towards the city. Their helmets relayed their positions back to the staff. The recruits were moving into the city trying