False Flag (Battle Ground YA UK Dystopia Series Book 2)

by Rachel Churcher

  I’d signed up to fight, as much as I’d signed up for a safe place to sleep and a good career. Working for Commander Bracken showed me what I was fighting for, and what I was fighting against. Defending the rights of innocent, hard-working people against the terrorists who wanted to take everything away. Keeping the country running and stopping the attacks. Defending my career against people who wanted everything to fall apart.

  I knew you needed discipline and backbone to get by in life. People needed rules and boundaries, not handouts and hugs. Society worked when everyone worked hard and took care of themselves.

  And that’s what I tried to instill in the recruits.

  Secrets

  Sunday morning, and the tiny fighters are heading out for their first patrol. There’s some outdoor concert in Birmingham that needs security, and it’s Camp Bishop’s turn to test a new group of recruits. They’ll walk around in their armour, show off their guns and skills to the TV cameras, and they’ll make the music-lovers of the Midlands feel safe and warm and cared for.

  I’m watching from the senior dorm as they run around, getting ready, bringing their armour out to the coaches. Jackson steps up beside me, on his way to join them on the coach.

  “It’s like watching your babies going off for their first day at school. Poor Mummy, left here on her own!”

  I shove him hard, in the shoulder, and he laughs.

  “What will you do on your own here all day, Mummy? Will you drink gin and be sad?”

  “Shut up, Jackson. Go and babysit for them.”

  He crosses his arms in mock offence.

  “Hey! Running all the communications for the day is hardly babysitting. You’re just saying that because you’ve got something mysterious and important to do while we’re away. You’re just jealous that you won’t be there to watch them screw up.”

  “Sitting at a desk, listening to their conversations, solving their problems, telling them what to do? And you’ve got Sleepy as your special helper. Which part of that doesn’t sound like babysitting?”

  “The part where I control everything that happens?”

  I nudge him again, more gently. “Go on. They need someone to give them hell. I hereby give you that responsibility.”

  “Accepted!” He says, and grins.

  *****

  The coaches pull away, Commander Bracken and the other Senior Recruits on board. Miller and I are the only people in uniform left on site, guarding the gate while we wait for HQ to pick us up. Our fatigues are clean and ironed, our boots polished. Like the kids, we’ll be on show today.

  Everyone but the medical staff and the kitchen staff is going to Birmingham for the concert, but we’ve been excused. We’re being drafted in as local liaison for a weapons deployment exercise. It’s top secret, and even Commander Bracken couldn’t tell us what we’d be doing. Jackson was right – I’d rather be in Birmingham.

  “What do you think we’ll be doing today?” Miller sounds nervous.

  “No idea. Sharing our extensive local knowledge?”

  Or proving to the Commander that I can be trusted as Lead Recruit again.

  Miller is tall and boring, but he’s good at the techie stuff. He’s the one who fixes our radios and sorts out problems with guns and armour. I’m not looking forward to a day with him for company, but if they want Miller, we should at least be doing something interesting.

  A soldier arrives in a camouflaged Land Rover to pick us up, and drops off three guards to take our place. The guards bring crates of equipment with them – armour, guns, and other supplies. Gate guards don’t normally need armour. Is this standard procedure for guarding a camp with no trained backup? I wonder what they’re planning to do today.

  The driver takes us to a field south of town. It looks as if the circus has arrived – there are so many vehicles parked on the grass. The ground is soft under our feet as we climb down from the cab.

  Our driver takes us to a large, white trailer, and knocks on the door. Another soldier opens it and beckons us inside. We climb the steps into a briefing room. There’s a single, long table in the centre of the space, with chairs along both sides, all occupied. A man in fatigues is addressing the team, referring to images on a screen behind him, at the far end of the room. He pauses and signals to us to join the group.

  “You must be our local liaisons. Take a seat at the table – we’ve just started the briefing. I’m Commander Holden. You must be …” He consults a sheet of paper in a file on the table. “Miller and Smith.” He looks up, expecting an answer.

  “Yes, Sir!” We both respond. He nods, and waits for us to join the briefing. The soldier who let us in pulls two chairs over to the end of the table, and we sit down.

  “As I was saying, the object of today’s exercise is a proof-of-concept test of a large-scale weapons system.”

  An aerial view of Leominster appears on the screen.

  “We’ll be delivering the payloads to pre-identified locations in town, and observing the response of the local population.”

  A series of red circles appears on the screen. Tens, maybe hundreds of locations, in a rough grid across the town.

  “We’ll be dropping these in by drone at around midday. The drone team is setting up in their Ops trailer, and we’ll have one of them here in a few minutes,” he checks his watch, “to explain their role in this exercise.”

  A diagram of a cone-shaped object appears on the screen.

  “This is what we’re testing. Most of you will recognise the latest, slimmed-down model of the City Killer Urban Attack System, or CKUAS. We’ve shaved off some weight, and some bulk, and these can now be transported and placed by heavy-duty drones. No need for us to have boots on the ground in potentially dangerous situations.”

  I recognise the device. I’ve seen them in Commander Bracken’s paperwork, and in the video we had the recruits watch in their briefing session, weeks ago. This is interesting. I lean forward and rest my elbows on the table, and I notice Miller doing the same.

  “This is as much a test of our systems here as it is of the weapons in town. You will each be issued with an NBC suit, and required to wear it for the duration of the test. The trailers will be locked down for the duration of the test. You will be required to behave as if this was a full deployment. You will be expected to report back on your experiences after the test.”

  There’s knock at the trailer door, and the soldier behind us opens it.

  “Anderson. Come in.”

  A tall man in camouflage trousers and a black T-shirt walks up to the table, and Holden beckons him to the front of the room.

  “This is Captain Anderson, our lead technician in the Drone Team. Ben – can you give us a run-down of your plans for the day?”

  Anderson reaches the front of the room, and Holden moves to one side to allow him to address the group.

  “Drone deployment is at the heart of the CKUAS system. Our job today is to demonstrate that these units,” he indicates the diagram on the screen behind him, “can be delivered safely and efficiently to their desired locations on the ground. Delivery takes a few hours, so we’ll be busy for most of the afternoon.

  “In a real deployment, we’d most likely be positioned further away from the target, but that may not always be possible. Given our proximity to the deployment locations, and the opportunity to test a line-of-sight target, we will be observing NBC protocol on site at all times.

  “Our job is to deliver the units, and to confirm delivery. That’s where the local knowledge comes in. I’ll need the local liaisons on hand to answer questions and check our deployment locations.”

  He looks at Holden, who stands, and thanks him.

  “Today’s operation will be controlled from this briefing room. Local liaisons and drone operators will be in the drone trailer. Weapons technicians will be outside, mounting weapons onto drones and monitoring our progress. All personnel will be issued with radios, and all commands will be issued by radio. NBC suits must be worn at a
ll times, and gas masks kept within reach. We will order you to wear them as you would during a real deployment. Do not ignore these commands, as we need to test our readiness and our ability to protect our personnel.

  “Brigadier Lee is the official observer from HQ for this test. He will be observing the operation from here.” Holden waves a hand at an older man in a khaki service uniform, a row of medals on his chest. His face is distinguished and attractive under his greying hair, and his eyes sparkle as he watches Holden. “Brigadier Lee has full clearance to inspect all aspects of today’s test. If he asks you a question concerning your activities, I expect you to offer him your full cooperation.”

  Brigadier Lee nods to Holden and looks round the table. “I’ll be staying out of your way. Commander Holden has filled me in on your skills and training. I’m excited to be working with you, and I’m expecting a smooth ride.

  “I don’t need to remind you all that this is a classified weapons deployment test, and as such is not to be discussed with anyone. Whatever you see, or think you see, today – we have permission from the government to do everything we need to do to test the new CKUAS.”

  “Thank you, Sir,” says Holden, turning his attention back to us. “At the end of this briefing, make your way to the equipment store, where you will be issued with your suit, mask, and radio. Advisory panel and research assistants – in here with me. Drone operators and local liaison – assemble in the drone trailer. Everyone else – meet at the equipment store.

  “Questions?”

  No one moves.

  “Dismissed.”

  Miller

  We follow the group from the briefing to an olive green marquee, and join a queue to pick up our equipment. A technician hands us each a white Nuclear-Biological-Chemical jumpsuit, a gas mask, and a radio, which clips to the waistband of the suit.

  As we walk out of the tent, Anderson waves us over to another trailer in the line of identical vehicles.

  “Smith and Miller?”

  “Yes, Sir.”

  “You’re with me.” He turns and leads us up the steps into a small hallway. “Welcome to the nerve centre,” he says, smiling.

  He opens a door to a larger room, and gestures us to follow him inside.

  It’s dark inside, the only light spilling from banks of monitors around the walls. There are workstations in front of each monitor, with keyboards, joysticks and other controls. Men and women in black T-shirts and camouflage trousers sit in front of the screens, headphones on. Most of them are watching views of the field outside, but a couple are actively steering drones over the town. I watch as one follows the route of the morning run from the bypass into the industrial estate.

  Anderson claps his hands, loudly.

  “Listen up, people. These are your local liaison officers: Recruit Smith and Recruit Miller. Ask them questions. Run things by them. Make use of their local knowledge. They are here to help you.”

  He turns back to us, and indicates a table in the corner of the room, and two office chairs.

  “This is you. Keep quiet and don’t disturb the work. Be on hand in case anyone needs you. If someone asks for your help, you may leave your table and stand with them at their station. By all means talk quietly between yourselves, but be aware of the work, and be ready to help. When we begin, there will be no leaving the trailer. Everything will be sealed against NBC attack. There’s a bathroom across the hall.” He points back the way we came in. “Don’t open the external door.”

  He checks his watch, and turns again to the room.

  “This operation is officially underway. NBC suits on, radios on, gas masks within reach.”

  He turns back.

  “That includes you two. Get ready, get sitting down, and get waiting.” He gives us a smile.

  We all stand up and pull on the white jumpsuits over our uniforms. The small room suddenly feels crowded, with everyone moving around at once. I pull the zip up to my throat, smooth down the Velcro seal over the top, and clip the radio to my waist.

  We sit down and wait for questions.

  *****

  “So where were you, before Camp Bishop?”

  Miller looks up from inspecting his gas mask.

  “Before signing up?”

  “Yeah. What did you do before you were Bracken’s techie genius?”

  “I was at school.”

  Of course the techie genius stayed at school.

  “Don’t tell me. A-levels in all the sciences?”

  “Maths, further maths, physics, chemistry.”

  “You passed?”

  He looks offended.

  “Oh – you did well?”

  He nods.

  “So what are you doing here?”

  “They were advertising for technical roles, so I signed up.”

  “Too cool for uni?”

  “It’s much more interesting to fix things that need fixing. I like working under pressure, and doing things that other people can’t do.”

  I think about my own choices. He’s right – I’d rather be here, learning on my feet and proving myself every day than passing a bunch of exams.

  “I get that.”

  “So what about you?”

  I tell him about the butcher’s shop. Gutting chickens, chopping muscle and gristle and bone, washing floors. He nods, and goes back to playing with his gas mask.

  We sit in silence for a while. I glance around the room, but no one seems to need our advice.

  “Bracken told me he’s looking for a new Lead Recruit.”

  Miller has put down his gas mask. I’m surprised by his comment, and by his sudden focus on me.

  “He did?”

  “Yeah. But I thought that was you.”

  Great. This is what we’re going to talk about?

  I nod. “It was.”

  “So what did you do? Why doesn’t he need you any more?”

  He does, I want to say. He’ll realise it soon enough. I just need to remind him what I’m good at.

  “It’s complicated.”

  “Oh.”

  “I stepped over a line. I did something he didn’t like.”

  Miller says nothing, but stares at me.

  “I upset a couple of the baby recruits.”

  “What did you do?”

  I really don’t want to be thinking about this now, but there’s nothing else to do.

  “I tried to teach someone a lesson. The commander didn’t like how I did it.”

  “But that’s your job.”

  “It was. But it turns out that the commander has rules – rules I didn’t know about. And I broke one of them.”

  “So he dumped you?”

  That was brutal, Miller. Dumped me? Really?

  I shrug, fighting an urge to shout, thump the table, kick something.

  “Yeah. He dumped me.”

  “But you did so many jobs for him.”

  Can’t we leave this alone?

  “Yes, Miller. Yes I did. I did them really well, too.” I hiss at him to avoid shouting. I’m so close to losing my temper.

  Thanks for rubbing it in.

  There’s shout from the other end of the room. Someone wants to ask us a question. I nod to Miller, and let him go this time. I don’t think I can be professional at the moment.

  I stare at the wall and take some deep breaths. I need to be calm if I’m going to make a good impression today. The last thing I need is Miller needling me about the Lead Recruit job.

  He spends a few minutes with the drone operator, then sits back down at the table.

  “What did they want to know?” I tip my head towards the far end of the room.

  “Whether there are any tall structures near one of the drop points.”

  “OK.” That sounds like a question I could answer without shouting.

  Good.

  Miller is looking at me again.

  “So why did you want to be Lead Recruit? It looks like a lot of extra work, just to be in Commander Bracken’s good bo
oks.”

  We’re doing this, are we? Dissecting my life choices? Fine.

  I roll my eyes.

  “It’s a way out, Miller. It’s a way up. If I can impress Bracken, maybe he’ll recommend me for promotion. Maybe he’ll take me with him when he gets promoted. Maybe it was my ticket to a job in London.”

  Was.

  “You get a lot more power over the recruits, don’t you?”

  “I get a lot more responsibility, if that’s what you mean. It’s up to me to sort out trouble before it reaches the commander. He trusts … trusted me to find out what was going on at camp, and to keep it under control.”

  “You certainly have more influence than the rest of us. If the kids won’t listen to us, all we have to do is threaten to tell you, and they sort themselves out pretty fast.”

  Do they? Interesting. I didn’t know that my name was being used as a threat.

  I flash Miller a grin.

  “That’s good to know. I’ll bear that in mind.” That electric feeling of power is back, and it feels good. If I can convince Bracken to take me back, I’ll have that power again.

  “So how do you do it? Make them afraid of you?”

  I do things you wouldn’t dare.

  He wants to understand what it takes to scare the recruits. Maybe I can demonstrate it for him. I lean slowly across the table and put my face close to Miller’s. He looks uncomfortable, but he waits for me to answer.

  “I make it personal,” I keep my voice quiet, so he has to stay close and listen. “I remember who they are. I remember what they’ve done, and I follow through with my threats. I never let them forget who’s in charge, and I never pull my punches.”

  He raises his eyebrows, clearly thinking about what I’m saying, but he doesn’t move away.

  “But most of all? I enjoy it. And they know I do. They know they can’t beg me to let them off, because they know I’m not looking for a loophole. I want to punish them. They know they have nowhere to hide.”