‘If he messes up again, that’s it,’ I said firmly.
He shrugged, ‘I know. You’ll have no choice. But just try to put yourself in his shoes. If you do have to take over the section, you’ll need him to work for you.’
‘And Geany,’ I added.
Okonkwo rolled his eyes, ‘He’s not that bad.’
‘He has a cocky answer to everything.’
‘That’s just Geany,’ Okonkwo replied with a sigh, ‘You’ll never get that out of him.’
‘I’ll knock it out of him.’
Okonkwo laughed loudly, then caught himself as somebody stirred, ‘You’re a proper horrible bastard. Just as well you saved my life today.’
‘Why?’
He grinned, ‘Because I’d have knocked you out for calling me a coward on that ambush. See you in a few hours.’
He rolled over and shut his eyes.
#
‘A Company, close in!’ The CSM bellowed from the centre of the cavern, waking us from our slumber. I opened my stinging eyes and checked my datapad, it was just past eleven o’clock in the morning. We had been asleep for only a few hours. The company slowly rose, and the cavern echoed with a chorus of groans and uttered complaints at the lack of sleep.
Konny caught my eye as we both stood to pick up our kit, and he quickly looked away. I remembered my conversation with Okonkwo, and then felt slightly guilty for attacking my section commander whilst everyone slept. The guilt quickly turned to anger, though, as I remembered how rude Konny had been to me and the trouble he had got me in.
The CSM wasn’t impressed by the lack of motivation in the company, Take your time, lads, why don’t you? I’m sure I can think of some way of making up for it when we get back!’
The company hastened, and troopers quickly picked themselves up and grabbed their kit.
‘Who needs sleep,’ Geany said sarcastically, clipping his belt kit around his waist.
Okonkwo nodded, ‘I hear sleep’s over-rated anyway.’
‘HURRY THE FUCK UP!’
The CSMs fury brought us to life with a jolt, and we ran toward him, some of us with our kit thrown over our shoulders with no time to put it on. A rifle clattered to the ground as somebody tripped over something in his haste. You didn’t mess with the CSM, not unless you wanted to spend the rest of your life on fatigues.
The three platoon sergeants quickly arranged their platoons into a square formation around the CSM, hurrying any remaining stragglers. They stalked the centre of the formation counting their men as they did so, whilst the CSM waited impatiently. Westy caught my eye and gave me a wink.
The CSM addressed the three of them, ‘Platoon sergeants, happy you’ve got all of your men?’
Westy was first to speak, ‘One platoon, twenty-eight men, all present, Sir!’
Johnno was next, ‘Two platoon, twenty-eight men, all present, Sir!’
‘Three platoon, twenty-nine men, all present, Sir!’
As the third platoon sergeant announced that his platoon were present the mood in the company turned sombre. The three platoons were normally between thirty and thirty-two men strong, with thirty-two being the most that they could fit into their four dedicated dropships. The company had been forced to move troops between platoons to equalise its manpower, otherwise Johnno would have had to cannibalise his work party in order to maintain the three sections. Our platoon had lost almost a section troopers in two days, three of whom had died of their wounds. A few heads turned downwards as we thought of the friends and comrades who were with us no more.
‘Get a grip of yourselves, men,’ the CSMs tone was harsh, ‘The enemy is still out there. We all feel the pain of our loss, but this is no time for feeling sorry for ourselves, we’re drop troopers. Remember that.’
A conscript entered the cavern cradling a holographic projector in his arms. We looked on in silence as he placed the device in the centre of our formation and then walked away. ‘Shortly the OC will be arriving to brief you all on the situation,’ the CSM continued, ‘Pay attention and stay awake. I know you’re all tired. If you feel like you’re falling asleep then stand up and go to the back. If I catch you sleeping then stand by! Now, sit on your kit.’
Whilst we arranged our daysacks into something comfortable to sit on the holographic projector sprang to life, displaying a glowing replica model of the city that covered the CSMs boots. He strode through the city like a giant, sweeping his gaze across us as he checked that the men in his company were in good order ready for their brief. The CSM was more than just the disciplinarian, he was the heart and soul of the company and the man that set the example for all of us to follow; never weary, never afraid and fiercely proud.
The OC entered the cavern flanked by the three platoon commanders and the chief of police, making his way directly toward us. It was the first time that I had seen any of the other officers in my company, since everything had kicked off within hours of my arrival. Ordinarily I should have been taken aside by the OC, CSM and various other personalities who would have been keen to get to know a new lance corporal, but instead I had been thrown straight into the thick of it.
The other two platoon commanders looked nothing like the boss. He was a dour, unpleasant man, easily in his late twenties and presumably on the cusp of promotion, but they were both young lieutenants who had probably completed their training not long ago. The OC appeared much older, and like the CSM, his rank had been reached after years of Union service. He was to be respected, for no officer would ever be promoted in drops if he didn’t prove himself capable in the field.
The OC regarded us all as he stepped into the hologram, his entourage moving away to one side of the formation. We didn’t stand for him, and no order was given to brace up by the CSM - we were, after all, on an operation and not on parade - but still we gave him our full attention, and not a single word was uttered within the ranks. The feeling of anticipation across the company was almost electric, everybody wanted to know what was going on in the city outside, and more importantly what we were going to do about it.
‘I want to start,’ he began sadly, ‘By taking a minute to think about those who are not with us anymore.’
We lowered our heads, and for a full minute we sat in silence, remembering our dead and wounded. I remembered Patterson, the young recruit who I had never really known, and my old friends from years past. I missed them, all of them. I checked that nobody was watching and wiped a tear away from my eyes.
Finally the OC told us to raise our heads and continued.
‘We will properly mourn for our fallen,’ he said, ‘For those who have made the ultimate sacrifice for the Union. But now is not the time. We need to remain focused upon the task at hand, for while we have been licking our wounds the enemy have been very busy indeed.’
The OC took a deep breath, ‘It would seem that the information collected by the EW team here in Eindhoven was not only incorrect, but it was in fact a deliberate ploy by NELA to lure us into the city.’
Our platoon visibly bristled when the information began to sink in. The rebels had intentionally created the two data spikes that led to our fateful operation in Nieuwe Poort. We had been tricked, and the result had been the loss of several troopers and many more conscripts. Everything that had happened up until the company arriving to our rescue had been to our enemies design.
We listened in dismay as the company commander explained to us the full extent of the situation in the city, seeing how the enemy had taken full advantage of our folly. The rebels had effectively cut all of our communication across Nieuwe Poort, and had managed to send a fake feed through to the orbital platform to make it appear as though the operation was running smoothly. The two robotic saucers had been cut off from their controllers in Eindhoven, but not before we managed to purposefully crash land one of them so that it couldn’t be used against us. The other had disappeared. The LSVs had run amok throughout the city, attacking both Union troops and police and causing widespread panic among
st the population.
Whilst both Union troops and the police battled with the rebels through the streets, NELA had mounted a series of co-ordinated attacks into key governmental and corporate buildings, including the Citadel. Numerous buildings across the holographic city flashed red as the OC spoke, highlighting the full extent of the rebel attacks. Most prominent of all was the Citadel, towering even in its holographic form to almost the same height as he was.
‘This is by far the most sophisticated and well-orchestrated attack mounted by NELA to date, and it has resulted in him taking control of almost every key building in the city. In short, the rebels have captured Nieuwe Poort.’
The OC paused to allow us to come to terms with what he was saying. It was unthinkable. Where had they all come from so quickly and easily? Surely such a huge number of people couldn’t just take up arms and mount a rebellion without somebody noticing? We had well and truly been caught with our pants down, and I found myself wondering what other tricks our elusive foe had up his sleeve.
‘We have been discussing the intention of the rebel forces for some time,’ the OC continued, ‘And we believe that they intend to hold Nieuwe Poort for long enough to smuggle large quantities of military hardware out of the city using the extensive and largely unmapped Chinese warren network beneath us. At the same time their insurgency sends out a powerful message to the population of New Earth, which could lead to similar attacks across the planet.’
I thought about the vast quantities of military equipment manufactured in the factories beneath Nieuwe Poort. There were probably enough weapons stockpiled underground to arm every civilian in the southern continent. It made sense, I thought to myself. But something wasn’t quite right about it. I seriously doubted that the enemy were capable of moving large weapons of war underground undetected, and so anything larger than a buggy would have to be left behind. They could steal rifles, armour and smart missiles, but they had large quantities of those anyway. Was it really worth all that effort?
The OC went on to describe the enemy forces occupying the Citadel, and as he went into greater detail it became apparent that our company were going to re-take the towering building.
‘The Citadel is occupied by approximately one hundred rebel fighters,’ he said as the hologram zoomed toward the building, ‘Equipped with an assortment of weapon systems that are similar or even identical to our own. They don’t appear to wear any form of standard uniform, which enables them to dump their kit and merge back into the civilian population, however they wear a green band around their arm which they use to mark themselves to each other whilst in combat.
Interestingly we have received reports that one of the key rebel leaders is present in the Citadel, suggesting that they consider the building to be of significant strategic importance. We have had no previous knowledge of this individual, and I think you will agree that his presence may explain the sudden and dramatic mobilization of the rebel forces in the region.’
The hologram flickered to a new image and my jaw dropped.
I simply couldn’t believe my eyes. There stood in front of us was none other than Sergeant Evans, dressed in civilian clothing with the green band of NELA wrapped about his upper arm.
‘Jesus Christ…’ I breathed.
‘This man,’ the OC pointed a finger at the image, his face contorted with disgust, ‘Is James Evans, formerly Sergeant Evans of the 3rd Battalion, the English Dropship Infantry.’
A murmur of surprise spread across the ranks, which quickly subsided when the CSM appeared behind the OC, searching for the source of the noise.
I looked across to Westy, who sat in front of his platoon staring up at the image of our old platoon sergeant impassively. I wondered if he had indeed known all along, he certainly didn’t appear shocked.
Loyalty was a funny old thing. Troopers were fiercely loyal to one another, but when that clashed with their loyalty to the Union, which way would they go?
‘James Evans went AWOL after the liberation of New Earth,’ the OC went on, ‘And has been completely unheard of until now. It is believed that he is the military mastermind behind the recent chain of events, having extensive knowledge of our tactics and procedures, although he is not believed to be the overall leader of NELA in the Nieuwe Poort province.’
I suddenly thought of Geany, who had seen me take advice from Ev during the second ambush. Had he recognised the image? If he told somebody that I had been in contact with the rebels’ tactical advisor, then there was every chance that I would be singled out as a collaborator and thrown into jail. I searched the platoon for the senior trooper while the OC continued his brief.
‘We believe that the enemy intends to hold onto the Citadel for as long as possible, using its computer mainframe to gain access to various arms factories across the city, as well as collecting vital software for certain more advanced pieces of equipment, such as robotic vehicles and visor targeting systems, all of which are useless on their own. It is therefore assessed that he will seek to delay any advance into the Citadel, fighting floor-by-floor and only withdrawing when the defence of each section becomes untenable. He will seek to maintain a withdrawal route, which in this situation is clearly downwards via the ground floor, and he will fight with everything at his disposal to keep that route open. It is worth remembering that he still possesses several LSVs, and potentially a saucer, all of which are assets we expect him to use in order to do just that.
‘Does anybody have any questions with regards to the enemy situation?’
I finally spotted Geany a few metres away from me. Like Westy, he too watched the image of Ev with a blank expression. I relaxed slightly. It was entirely possible that Geany hadn’t remembered the face of the man who had told me to destroy the glass roof in the confusion of the ambush. I prayed that he hadn’t.
‘All is not lost,’ the OC assured us, ‘There is no doubt that our new enemy is a hard bastard, and we may well have that traitorous wretch to thank for that,’ he jerked a thumb toward the image of Ev, ‘But we are far from beaten. I have shown you what the enemy have managed to do to us, but now I will show you what we are going to do about it.’
A message had been sent to the rest of the battalion, the OC explained, who by now knew of our plight, but not the full extent of it. The message had been passed not by optical cable or over the net - both of which were cut off by the enemy and most likely monitored anyway - instead it had been passed by a far more simple means; a written document carried by a dropship that had left minutes before our brief had begun. It contained a full schematic of the enemy dispositions and capabilities as well as the OCs interpretation of their intent. It also contained his recommendations for how to deal with the situation, for the task required more than a mere company of drop troopers and fewer conscripts.
‘No doubt the Commanding Officer will be studying my recommendations as I speak,’ the OC said, ‘But it is highly unlikely that he will disagree with them, since we do not have the time to argue, and so the orders I am about to deliver are unlikely to change.’
Ev disappeared as the hologram returned to the image of the Citadel, zooming up toward the top of the spire, and the OC smiled at the nervous murmur that spread across the company once more. We weren’t just going for the Citadel, we were going straight for the very tip of it.
‘Listen in for a set of orders for a company assault onto the Citadel…’
11
The Citadel
It took us little more than a minute to get to the Citadel, in one of the most breakneck rides that I had ever experienced inside a dropship. The company hurtled out from the landing pad of Eindhoven, our fleet of dropships weaving in amongst the city domes leaving little more than a few metres between their hulls and the glass, before soaring upward toward the towering spire in a sudden manoeuvre that left my stomach somewhere hundreds of metres below me.
The dropship pilots were pushing their craft to the limit, leaving us in no doubt of the threat below. We were at w
ar, there was no hiding it now. The city below us was in the hands of the rebels, but not for long.
We had taken away their primary weapon, the city net. The battalion commanding officer had agreed to the OCs plan and the power to the entire city had been cut, knocking out every transmitter that didn’t come with a battery. Below us Nieuwe Poort would be in chaos, its terrified population running to their homes in search of shelter from the coming battle. The sky was thick with a whole battalion of dropships, whilst an army of conscripts slowly formed a ring of steel around the city. A fleet of dropships and unmanned saucers waited a few kilometres away for targets to strike at, and far above us the orbital platform had been joined by Invincible, a battleship capable of levelling entire grid squares with a single salvo.
There was no escape, and there would be no mercy. The rebels wanted blood, and we were ready to give it to them.
‘Prepare yourselves, lads, this is it!’ I bellowed, regaining my composure as I felt the dropship turn a hundred and eighty degrees into a position to safely unload its cargo.
At some point during our rapid flight back into the heart of the city, a burst of darts had been fired by the dropships into the Citadel windows in order to create an entry point.
The company plan was simple enough. We were to assault the Citadel as platoons, starting from the upper floors and then striking again and again, one platoon after the next. Each platoon would strike two floors at the same time, to hasten our assault and also produce maximum shock effect against the enemy. They were allowed to strike down into additional floors in order to seize the initiative, so long as they didn’t become over extended.
We didn’t want the rebels to stand and fight, we wanted them to run from us, because once we had them on the run they would become vulnerable. We could harass them all of the way down to the ground, until finally they met Major Ruckheim and his company of conscripts who waited in a ring of steel around base of the building.
LANCEJACK (The Union Series) Page 14