‘Orders,’ he grunted, and left.
I made my way out into the corridor to find the platoon lined along its walls, with the platoon commander at the far end with a young corporal stood beside him, who I presumed was Johnno, the man Westy had said was standing in for the absent platoon sergeant.
A sea of eyes regarded me wearily for a second as I found somewhere to stand amongst them.
‘This man,’ Mr Moore pointed toward me, ‘Is Lance Corporal Moralee, US, and he will now be taking the place of second in command for three section. Lance Corporal Wysocki will be stepping up to be the section commander. Are there any questions?’
There were none. I had been moved into the section that had been hit by the smart missile and Lance Corporal Wysocki, my new section commander, was the same blonde-haired man who had called me outside and had carried Gaz’s bleeding body.
‘We’re going back out,’ the boss said bluntly, ‘Reveille will be at zero-one hundred hours.’
Although not a word was spoken, the platoon bristled visibly, and the corporal stood beside the boss soothed their anger with a downward gesture of his hand.
‘Nobody wants to go back out,’ the platoon commander continued with a harsh frown, ‘But we have a job to do. Apparently NELA have given away a few clues as to their whereabouts during the attack, and the conscript company based in Nieuwe Poort are planning an arrest operation, going into the city tonight. The OC has been told about the operation, and has ordered for us to assist. The other platoons will be clearing the tunnels around the ambush area, so nobody will be getting a full night in bed anyway.’
The platoon were hardly won over by their commander’s speech.
Johnno stepped in, ‘Look, lads. We’ve had a bad thing happen to us, and we’re all hurting. This is our opportunity to try to make some good of it. Gaz would want us to avenge him. He wouldn’t want us to stay in camp and cry ourselves to sleep, so let’s get this done.’
The corporal’s simple approach to the situation appeared to appease the platoon, and he nodded to Mr Moore to carry on.
‘As I said, reveille will be at zero-one hundred. An early meal is booked for us before we go. Further instructions will be received when we get to the conscript base in Nieuwe Poort. Any questions?’
Again there was silence.
‘That’s it. Go to bed.’
The corridor rapidly emptied of grumbling troopers, and I returned to my room. I didn’t feel tired, but I knew that I needed sleep because I didn’t know when I was next going to get any. Once again I was going back into the fray.
4
Deployment
We were up deep in the night to go back out onto the ground. Troopers spilled out of their rooms and shuffled sullen-faced into the cookhouse to eat their early breakfast. Rarely did anyone speak, the atmosphere was still that of shock. The platoon had never experienced a death before, and the loss of such a prominent figure had hit them hard.
I wanted to find somewhere to sit away from the grieving troopers, but I knew that it would only serve to alienate me from them further and decided to sit with Lance Corporal Wysocki.
He didn’t look up from his food, and continued to slowly spoon cereal into his mouth.
‘You alright?’ I asked cautiously.
He sighed, ‘What do you think?’
I said nothing, trying to resist the urge to lean over the table and throttle him. I reminded myself that I still lived with the pain of losing my friends back during the invasion, so his would be raw.
I allowed a moment of silence, ‘What do you like to be called, mate?’
He looked at me as though he was about to start swinging punches in my direction, until I think he realised why I was asking. If he was to be my section commander, I was going to need to know what to call him, and I certainly wasn’t going to call him Lance Corporal Wysocki every five minutes.
‘Konrad,’ he said finally, Blokes call me Konny.’
‘I’m Andy. I’ll need to get the blokes details into my datapad before we go out.’
‘We’ll do it in the lock room,’ his brusque reply signalled that the conversation was over.
Konny left the table having barely finished his food, and I watched him as he went. I wasn’t sure if he was simply upset or if he was actually an arsehole, but either way he needed to snap out of it. I wasn’t the skinny trooper I had been two years ago, I had filled out and I could fight. There was no way I was going to be treated like an outcast for the duration of my tour, not like I had before.
‘Andy Moralee, right?’ A hand extended in my direction.
I realised that it was Johnno, and I reached out to shake his hand, ‘That’s right.’
‘Corporal Johnston, mate, but just call me Johnno, yeah?’ He sat across from me where Konny had been, slapping an empty tray onto the table. I saw that he was a few years older than me, probably Westy’s age, though he was of much more average build. He was young, even for an ‘acting’ platoon sergeant, but I knew that I could hardly talk.
He looked around at the troopers on the other tables. ‘They’ve taken it badly, mate,’ he said quietly.
I met his gaze, ‘They will do.’
He nodded respectfully, then sighed, ‘I can’t believe it mate, I really can’t. Never saw it coming.’
‘You never do,’ I said knowingly, remembering Browner’s limbless body being carried away by stretcher and my old friend Climo’s missing face.
He changed the subject, ‘You know the platoon sergeant’s away, mate, yeah? It’s me in the chair for the moment, so any dramas come see me.’
I nodded, ‘No worries.’
‘You got Konny as your section commander. There’s only one screw in the platoon now other than me, so two sections are led by lancejacks, yours and one other.’
‘Okay.’
‘They’re alright, mate, the NCOs,’ he assured me, ‘They’re just upset about Gaz, that’s all. Westy gave us the low-down, we know you’re a good operator. Give them a bit of time, mate.’
‘I know, mate. I’ve just turned up at the wrong time.’
Johnno shrugged, ‘Who knows, maybe you showed up at exactly the right time. Anyway, I’ll leave you be. See you at the lock,’ he snatched up his tray.
‘Roger.’
At least not everybody was acting-up, I thought as Johnno left. Westy had told me that the NCOs in the platoon were alright, and I supposed that over time I would see them in a better light. I couldn’t expect to make friends the very morning after a full screw had died.
‘Come on, lads, let’s go! Get your kit ready for inspection,’ Johnno hurried the platoon into the lock room, lining them up against the walls as they would have done a hundred times before. This time, though, the blokes looked as though they were going to a funeral and I found myself wondering how we would manage to motivate them over the next few days. Surely they couldn’t be sent out like this, I thought to myself, but then my platoon had never had the chance to stop and grieve during the invasion. We simply got on with it.
Konny was already stood by three section, I saw, and so I made my way over to their side of the lock room and laid my kit out at my feet.
‘Get your kit out, then, fellas, so I can check it,’ Konny ordered.
I tapped him on the shoulder, ‘It’s alright, mate, I’ll do that.’
As the section second in command, Konny would normally check all of the equipment and report to Gaz that his section was good to go. Unfortunately Gaz wasn’t around anymore, and Konny was no longer the 2ic, he was the commander instead. He hesitated, then nodded, ‘Fine.’
‘Commanders close in,’ the boss ordered from the middle of the lock room, and Konny left.
The six troopers that made up the remainder of the section watched me expectantly. Some of them would have served within drops for several years longer than me, and had I been a private, they would still be senior to me.
‘Right,’ I began, ‘Rifles - I want to see battery life and s
ight functionality.’
The troopers obeyed and one-by-one I inspected each and every piece of equipment that they carried, ensuring that it was present and that it worked. I was thorough - as I should be - and nobody had any reason to complain. Drops loved kit inspections; ‘Check, check and check again,’ went the saying, because you can’t check if you’re dead.
Each of the three sections within the platoon carried a standard assortment of weapons and equipment. Six of us carried the MSG-20 magnetic assault rifle, a weapon with a range of over a kilometre and the ability to auto-correct the firer’s aim by altering the angle of the steel dart it fired as it left the barrel.
Two troopers carried the MAM-G, or ‘Mammoth’ as it was known, which was a much larger and more powerful version of the MSG-20 with a greater rate of fire. They were usually carried by the more experienced troopers, trusted to use a valuable section weapon effectively with minimum supervision. Another two troopers carried the under-slung grenade launcher, which was fitted to their rifles. Reserved for only the most senior and trusted of the blokes, the grenades it fired were actually more like little guided missiles, with a selection of smoke, high explosive and illuminating rounds. All of our weapons communicated with our respirators using tiny wires that were threaded through our combats.
We all carried an assortment of hand-thrown grenades and explosives as well - enough ammunition to fight our own miniature war. We were trained and equipped to fight even if we were surrounded - as dropship infantry often were - we could never rely upon ammunition resupply in contact.
I inspected the troopers’ respirators, ensuring that their targeting displays worked and that they each could communicate using the intercom. I made sure that they each carried enough food in their daysacks and that their hydration packs were full to the brim, and that their personal medical equipment was carried in the correct place and was serviceable. Everybody had to carry their medical equipment in the same place, because if a trooper didn’t and then became a casualty he might not be able to tell his mate where he had put it if he was bleeding out. Our combats were designed to detect and automatically treat a whole host of injuries, but if they failed - and often they did - it would be the treatment applied by our comrades that saved our lives.
Once I was happy that everything was present I instructed my datapad to join the three section net and checked that it held up-to-date information on each trooper; vital readings such as heart and breathing rate and that the section ammunition state was correct.
‘You squared away, Andy?’ Johnno asked as he walked around the lock room.
I gave him a thumbs up, happy that everything was in order, ‘Yeah, mate.’
‘Roger. Boss is just briefing the commanders up, then we’re good to go.’ He walked away.
I was glad that Johnno was the acting platoon sergeant. He was a young section commander, probably no older than twenty-five, but he oozed confidence despite what had happened only the day before. He wasn’t Sergeant Evans, nobody could step into that man’s shoes, but he was friendly and approachable, which would make my job much easier. The section 2ics - including me - worked under the platoon sergeant for ammunition resupply, casualty extraction, and general administration. A harsh or incompetent platoon sergeant could make my life a misery.
I used the left over time to crouch down and check through my own equipment, following the same logical sequence as I had with the section. I knew what I carried - I packed my own kit - but better safe than sorry. Forgetting something was an inexcusable sin for a trooper, but for an NCO to do it was unthinkable.
‘How long you been in, Corporal?’ One of the troopers in my section asked.
I briefly looked up at him, quickly noting the grenade launcher attached to his weapon - he was a senior tom. The other troopers were watching the encounter, waiting to see how I would respond.
In an effort to appear nonchalant I looked back down at my daysack and began to repack it ready for the patrol, ‘Two years and a bit. You?’
‘Five,’ he said, and I felt his eyes burning into me. My eyes flicked up to the name printed across his gel armour; Private Geany.
‘I take it you’re waiting to go back to Uralis?’ I asked. For reasons unknown to me, the Junior Leaders course could only be conducted on Uralis, the home of the dropship infantry, and so troopers would often have to wait months and even years for the opportunity to go there in order to promote to lance corporals.
‘Yeah, got to wait my turn. Unlike some people,’ he said the last part under his breath, but I was intended to hear it. I pretended not to notice.
Konny returned from his briefing and addressed the section in a monotone, ‘The dropships arrive in two minutes. We then move to the conscript base in Nieuwe Poort. We have two saucers in close support and an orbital weapons platform providing top cover. If we get contacted on the route out then we will assault the enemy and attempt to capture him.’
‘If he doesn’t just drop bombs on us from our own weapons platform,’ Geany pointed out gloomily.
A couple of troopers nodded their agreement. There was no fight in them, I thought, it was as though they had already been defeated.
Konny ignored the comment, ‘Once the conscripts have sorted themselves out we’ll move into the city to conduct arrests of key figures believed to be connected to local NELA. The conscripts will be doing the arrests, we just provide the security for them to do their business.’
‘Rare for us to get the shit end of the stick,’ Geany said sarcastically, ‘Shall we get on with it then?’
I was surprised that Konny didn’t respond to Geany’s bad attitude. If one of the senior toms in my old platoon had said something like that then his section commander would have made an example of him. Instead he merely told them all to get their kit on.
‘What’s his problem?’ I asked Konny as the section began to prepare themselves to leave the safety of the warren.
‘What’s it to you?’ He snapped, and I jumped, the hostile response surprising me.
I shook my head, enough was enough, ‘Listen mate, we’re about to go out on the ground…’
‘Do you think I don’t fucking know that?’ He snapped, causing several troopers to look over to our conversation, ‘What, you think that you can just turn up and act the boy just coz you got a…’
I threw my arms up in exasperation, ‘What am I thinking? I’m thinking that we are supposed to be working together! Get a grip, mate.’ The lock room was silent. I suddenly realised that the whole platoon, including the platoon commander, were staring at us.
Johnno shook his head in disappointment, ‘I’ll talk to you two later. Lads, get your kit on, load your weapons and get in the lock.’
Stunned, the platoon remained motionless.
‘Let’s go!’
‘Belter,’ Konny hissed at me as we quickly pulled on our respirators and filed into the lock.
I clenched my teeth but remained silent. I already knew what Johnno would be saying to us both later, it was unprofessional to be arguing in front of the men. It didn’t do morale any good, especially with gob-shites like Geany about.
Freezing air bit at the exposed parts of my neck as the outer lock door opened. It was cold that night on the surface of New Earth, and a quick glance at my visor display told me it was minus three. The cloudless sky had allowed all of the day’s heat to escape during the night, causing temperatures to plummet. At least it wasn’t raining, I thought. New Earth loved to rain.
We ran onto the landing pad where our four dropships waited in the dark, hovering just above the ground with their ramps down. Loading had to be quick, the longer the dropships remained stationary outside, the greater the risk that they would come under attack from an enemy who could be capable of near enough anything.
Eight sets of boots pounded against the ramp as our section loaded onto its dropship. We quickly strapped ourselves into our seats as tightly as we could, and secured our weapons into the racks beside us. Dropship
crew compartments were just large enough to fit an eight-man section with all of their kit, but they were still cramped. My knees touched those of the trooper sat across from me, we were so tightly packed. Air vents blasted cool air into the compartment, but it wouldn’t matter once the ramp was closed, the dropship ‘engine’ ran at such high temperatures that it quickly turned it into a sauna.
The trooper sat across from me was Patterson. I couldn’t see his face through his visor to tell if he was nervous, but I imagined that he was. I remembered my first drop onto New Earth; I was terrified. Back then though we expected one in three dropships to be shot out of the sky on entry by a barrage of Chinese missiles. I felt much more comfortable now with the odds of survival against the rebels, even though the threat was still very real.
‘Yeah, all in,’ Konny said from where he sat close to the ramp. His respirator headset had automatically connected to the dropship commander. The dropship commander normally only allowed the section commander to connect with him, so that the rest of us weren’t confused by the constant stream of net traffic received by the dropship, and so that we didn’t bother him unnecessarily.
The ramp promptly rose, sealing with a thud. The red compartment lights turned on immediately upon the door closing and our visors quickly adjusted.
I mentally prepared myself for the ride, just before my body was thrown against the straps as the dropship accelerated away from the warren and toward Nieuwe Poort.
5
Neiuwe Poort
It took us little more than fifteen minutes to arrive within the walls of the conscript forward operating base. A massive compound designed to look more like a Roman villa than a military base, its towering walls blocked out most of the city apart from some of the taller domes and the collection of glittering skyscrapers that marked the city centre.
We ran from the dropships into a large building adorned with pillars and arches, herded through the airlock by more conscripts, as I had been when I first arrived at Lash. The airlock was nowhere near as sophisticated as those at Lash, though, and its doors opened on hinges like ordinary earth doors, only with refrigerator like seals to keep out the bad air.
LANCEJACK (The Union Series) Page 4