The fall of Union (Rise of the Union Book 1)

by Niall McGrath

  Ryder swallowed a mouthful of food. “So we’re going to we’re going into the unknown with 3 trained soldiers, a bunch of green men and one good sergeant with his combat engineer badge? Sounds like a solid plan.”

  Jansen gave him a slight smile, glancing at the combat engineer badge on his collar. “They’ll do well enough. Smith’s not alone in his attitude though, so watch your back when the bullets are flying.” Ryder nodded.

  Taking a last bite, he took a drink from the canteen he pulled off his combat webbing before replacing it. He stood up, motioning for Jansen to join him again. “Right, let’s get this show on the road and find the Captain.”

  He walked over to the powered doors and thumped release button, the shutters rising with a mechanical grind. Jansen waved the soldiers out the door, most of them grabbing small packs and powering up visors.

  Walking towards the row of sinister black transports he heard the sound of their fuel cells powering up, their railguns glowing with dull blue light over their raised gunner's cupola. Turning to Jansen who had kept pace beside him, he lowered his voice. “Straight recon?"

  “Straight recon. I know the city well - the Captain is likely sniffing about highway 18, as it's the fastest route to the senate area. We’re probably looking at comms issues until we get within 5 miles though.”

  As they paused on their way over to the convoy to grab ammunition dragged out from the ammo detail. Ryder nodded. “Highway 18 sounds good, take the lead LAV and I’ll bring up the rear." He watched the company boarding their assigned vehicles, waiting until they were all embarked.

  He signalled to Jansen over the command channel to lead out and hopped in the door of the last LAV before it rolled out the gates and onto the highway to Union City. With any luck, he thought, they’d soon get some real answers.

  VI / I am the highway

  The convoy rolled down the road to Union City, LAV’s tracking their surroundings with infrared target finders but seeing nothing. They’d passed several small groups of civilian vehicles and Ryder had made sure to stop and converse with each one, directing them to outlying hamlets to seek shelter.

  It was during the third stop they made that the first evidence of large-scale military action became clear - someone had stepped up and taken charge and had started directing forces to find out more on their situation.

  Ryder had been standing with Trooper Wu, a compact man from Korea, in discussion with several civilians. The whine of approaching aircraft had washed over them, making them look upwards.

  Four jet fighters in a diamond formation had streaked overhead towards the city, afterburners glowing blue with haste. Their aggressive forward swept wings were visible, loaded with all manner of ordnance and the blue and white star of the Union military stood out on the underside of the wing.

  Wu had gotten a little too excited, pumping his fists in the hair and shouting in chorus with the scream of powerful jets. Ryder had let him have that one though, as he could understand the reaction - he had felt like joining in.

  Ryder’s visor had began spitting out a steady stream of information now they were within five miles of the city. Force dispositions, observations by other forces in the area and confirmation of orders. Jansen had called it - they were tasked to highway 18 to link up with the company Captain.

  A notification lit up the upper right side of his visor. Focusing on it activated the visors built in eye-tracking controls and opened the discrete information packet, an audio recording playing to accompany it.

  “This is Captain Reynolds. Taking heavy casualties. Lt. Colonel Welsh presumed KIA. Backup needed. Attackers unknown. Falling back from east of city. Repeat, this is Captain Reynolds…” The message began to repeat as Ryder closed it.

  “Did you get that?” he radioed Jansen on a closed channel.

  “Yes, that’s not good. Welsh was a good commander. Spent 10 years serving in West Africa after that mess Nigeria created.” Jansen radioed back. “One thing though - Reynolds was on the Senate’s eastern security outpost, about 500 men. I’d say our enemy is staging to the east around the airport and attacking into the city from there.”

  “What does that mean for us?” Ryder replied. He was aware other squad NCO’s were tuned in to the conversation.

  “Well, highway 18 brings us up to the Senate grounds from the South, pretty much to the doors of the senate building.” Jansen relayed. “If we take a detour about 2 klicks east before highway 18 meets highway 5, we can hit any attacker right at the doors of the senate if they keep pushing.”

  “We’ll run it past the Captain when we see him. First, we…” began Ryder.

  “Sir, You’ve got to see this!” shouted Wu from the front of the LAV, gesturing out the viewport and slowing the vehicle to a halt before throwing himself out the driver's hatch as quickly as he could.

  Ryder jumped out behind Wu. There was a glow building in the clouds again, fingers of lightning whipping out and bathing the gloom with momentary flashes of light. It wasn’t like before, the glow focusing on multiple points in the sky rather than saturating the clouds like it had before his flight had went down on approach.

  He felt the hairs on his arms stand on end, and he was pretty sure it wasn’t from adrenaline. Static electricity. Something’s not right…, he thought, as a feeling of dread stole over him. The glow intensified, burning his eyes, so bright he was about to look away.

  Without any warning a dozen fingers of solid light stabbed into the city from the heavens, each delicate glowing white strand as thick as a skyscraper and trailing embers of blue flame.

  Colossal shock waves pulsed into the air, scattering low clouds and carrying chunks of debris far from the epicenter of their blasts like fallen leaves blown by an autumn squall. Flames rose from a dozen spots on the near horizon, clouds of smoke reaching up from the ground to join with low stormclouds like lovers embracing.

  Ryder froze, overawed. He’d never seen anything remotely comparable, the power of the strike leaving him dumbstruck. Serving in Russia he’d seen a ten megaton nuclear weapon detonated on the outskirts of a siberian port city - even it hadn’t shocked him likes what he’d just witnessed.

  An orbital strike of immense power. An orbital strike. Something that had never happened in the history of warfare on Earth, a theory in the back of the minds of scientists and generals alike. He tried and failed to wrap his mind around it.

  Shaking himself out of his near-panicked state, he looked around at the other troops with him climbing out of LAV’s and transports alike. Not a single face registered anything but shock or fear, everyone knowing that they had witnessed the death of thousands if not more.

  Tearing his eyes from everything he’d witnessed, his visor feed went crazy - he registered dozens of urgent messages scrolling past it’s edge. He did a double-take - one of the messages was from Captain Evan Bernard, his commanding officer in Russia. Listed as Captain, Black Canyon, Bravo Company. Bravo Company? That devious bitch of a Major, he thought, she knew all along and said nothing to him.

  He looked at his visor. Bernard was within radio range now even with the interference caused by the earlier EMP blast hanging in the air. He triggered his radio. “Captain Bernard, this is Bravo Company, Charlie Sierra Mike. Are you receiving, over.” he queried.

  Moments passed. “Ryder you lazy bastard, what are you doing with my company? Get your ass in gear and get over to highway 18, exit 6. Over and out.” his radio crackled in response. Bernard hadn’t changed a bit.

  “Acknowledged, Bravo Company confirming. ETA 8 minutes.” he radioed back. Looking around, most of the company hadn’t moved, still in a state of shock. “Company!” he shouted, getting no response. “COMPANY!” he bellowed again, this time triggering the company wide radio channel. Faces swiveled in his direction, more than a few streaked by tears.

  “We’ve just seen what we’re up against. We won’t get revenge standing here. Get in your transport and let's find the bastards that did this and rip their go
ddamn balls off!"

  A ragged shout came from the company, animalistic in its fury. “We’re going to have to be careful,” he thought while climbing back into his vehicle, “angry men make easy targets.” He shut the door behind him with a clang. “Jansen, get us moving.” He nodded to Wu and the engine whined into life.

  Jansen sent a confirmation pulse to his visor, possibly too overwhelmed to reply. Ryder could understand his sentiment. He might be a Classer, but what had just happened...he would never have wanted to see it happen to anyone, citizen or not.

  VIa / Senate Chambers

  The Senate control room was a mess. Dozens of civil servants stood silent under soft blue lighting, staring at ten foot tall screens replaying the orbital bombardment over and over again.

  A circular table of polished black granite dominated one end of the room, two dozen men in suits and various military dress sitting in shocked silence. At the head of the table stood an older, gentle appearing woman - President Şahin.

  Gentle she may have appeared but she was known worldwide as a shrewd and unyielding politician. Despite her reputation, she sat in silence, lost for words for the first time in her political career.

  Clearing her throat, she glanced to her left at a disheveled man in civilian clothing who sat fidgeting with a stack of papers in his lap.

  “Doctor Thompson,” she addressing him directly, her accent thick and voice heavy with shock, “what the hell is going on?”

  Doctor Thompson jumped and looked back at her, surprised he was asked first despite sharing a table with a dozen high ranking military personnel and most of the Senate Cabinet. “We believe - believe, I must stress - that something has hit us from orbit. It seems likely is we’ve lost the airport, starport and Fort Julius. We’re also having problems communicating with local SatNet satellites - we think they’re being systematically destroyed.”

  “Doctor, who has the power to carry out an attack like this?”

  “Nobody, Madam President. We estimate SatNet communication loss in under 1 hour at the present rate. We can re-task other satellites to fill the gap but it’ll take time.” Thompson glanced nervously at Admiral Barnes but received a shrug in response.

  President Şahin looked to each face around the table, raising an eyebrow to invite comment but received none. “Do we know anything else? Casualties? Further targets?”

  “We estimate at least 30,000 Madam President.” replied Admiral Barnes. “Maybe more. We think we’re the target. If the Doctor is right, we just lost 10,000 fighting men at Fort Julius, leaving us only around 3,000 remaining in the city and surrounding training bases.”

  “We’re safe enough where we are for now,” added General Rallin, squeezing himself into the lull in conversation, “but with enough high explosives and the estimated technology we’re facing, we don’t have more than a day, maybe half a day, before we’re in serious trouble. We may have to evacuate.”

  “Evacuate the Senate?” exclaimed President Şahin, the words exploding out of her mouth and dripping with scorn. “Evacuate the Senate and run from trouble like a group of scared dogs? I won’t have it. We stand here. We fight here. This is the capital. Do what you can, gentlemen, and do it now.”

  Most of the heads around the table bobbed in assent, troubled looks being shared around in equal measure.

  “Make no mistake, “ the President continued, “if we tuck tail and run, the world will know Union City has fallen.”

  VII / Metaphor

  They made good time along highway 18. Clouds of smoke continued to darken the sky lit by occasional flashes of red tinged lightning, the atmosphere choked with the stench of burning debris and molten metal.

  Visibility was deteriorating, the driver increasingly having to rely on the infrared sensors to guide them as particulate matter floated in the air like a heavy morning fog . They rode in silence, every trooper weighed down by the memory of the incomprehensible attack they’d witnessed on Union City.

  “Friendlies ahead sir.” said Wu in the front compartment. “Looks like the Captain.” He slewed the vehicle to a halt, wheels locked and barely missing the last transport in their convoy as it slowed to a stop in front of them.

  Ryder hopped out and caught sight of an officer's white beret in the lee of a shop doorway fifty yards ahead. He ran over , winding his way around several abandoned cars and skidded to a halt, snapping out a sloppy salute. “Sir.”.

  Captain Bernard turned and caught sight of him, nodding. “Lieutenant. I’m guessing you saw that?”

  “I don’t think anyone within 200 miles didn’t, sir. What the hell was that?” Ryder queried.

  “If I knew, I’d probably be reconsidering entering the City, so best not to ask. We’re moving up highway 18 to the Senate. Any suggestions?"

  “Yes, Captain. Jansen!” shouted Ryder, drawing the Sergeant's attention. Jansen made his way over to them. “Tell the Captain what you told me on our way here.”

  “Ah, that, yes. Captain, I think they’re attacking from the east. If we cut 2 clicks east when 18 and 3 meet, I think we can hit them in the flank if Crown 3 is still standing and they’re still pushing.” Jansen relayed.

  “Better than any plan I have. We’re advancing on foot. Ryder, get your men together and have your LAV’s take point in the advance. Jansen, you’ve got a good scout in your squad if I remember rightly. Get the other two scouts from the company and get them to scout our advance.” ordered Bernard. “We’re regrouping 2 clicks before highway 5.”

  They both saluted, already in motion. Jansen walked off towards the transports shouting for Specialist Fuchs. Ryder cast his eyes towards the other NCO’s - the sergeant from first squad that had been attending the Captain approached him. “Irishman, you’re acting Lieutenant?” he asked, eying him from head to toe. “Why?”.

  “What’s it matter? You heard the Captain.” replied Ryder, towering over the Sergeant who stood at 5 foot 6. He could see several scouts disappearing into the warren of buildings surrounding them.

  “It matters because I’m not taking orders from some stupid backwards Classer. This is our fight, so stay out of my way.” the Sergeant hissed. “I don’t know why you were just dropped on us and put second in command but don’t get involved and do as you’re told.”

  Ryder took a step back in surprise at the onslaught. He could understand the anger given the occasion but to be so ignorant and biased that he’d refuse help and risk court martial? It was unfortunate for him that Ryder wasn’t in the habit of letting things pass without a comment of his own.

  He leant towards the man and jabbed a finger in his chest. “Let me make two things clear. First,” he said, “I am your senior officer and I tell you what the score is.” He pushed the man back a step and jabbed again. “Secondly if you ever threaten me again, or make another comment about where I come from, you’re going to have more to worry about than just being in a warzone. Are we clear?”

  The Sergeant’s eyes flashed as opened his mouth to reply but before he got the chance he received a clout round the head from behind, a white beret coalescing in the dirty air behind him. He staggered several steps to the side before catching his balance, the blow catching him off guard.

  “I’d be more careful if I was you, Sergeant,” Captain Bernard announced, “Ryder here has one hell of a temper and he’s killed a lot more men that you. Well, that’s not really difficult since you haven’t killed any men yet, have you Sergeant?” Bernard gestured behind him. “You need to get your squads in order. Ryder, a word.”

  As Ryder stepped over to Captain Bernard, the other man shot him a venomous look while walking away. “Sir?” he queried.

  Bernard looked at him. “What the hell are you doing here, Luke? Last I heard you were still under Xayne in Argentina and on your way to getting an officer's commission. Who did you piss off? Apart from nearly every NCO in Bravo Company, anyway.”

  “Promotion? Not that I knew about.” Ryder replied, confused. “Xayne had decided rotatin
g me to ceremonial duty here was a good idea after I managed to get myself stabbed in a bar fight in Buenos Aires.”

  The Captain raised his eyebrow.

  “I was kind of asking for it. I’d just punched a Captain for cutting me off at the bar. Said a few...unkind...things about the United States afterwards and a trooper from Maryland took offence.” he explained.

  Bernard shook his head. “You’ll never change. When this is all done remind me to get us a bottle or three of vodka to share and you can talk me through the rest of that story. Xayne had you pegged for an officer's commission. He called me himself about 2 years ago to talk about you. Big plans, he’d said.”