EDEN (The Union Series)

by Richards, Phillip

  With a blinding flash of light something broke through the canopy to our right, screaming through the forest at an angle, before suddenly darting toward us and exploding against a tree a few hundred metres away.

  ‘Keep moving!’

  I needn’t have said a word. The section was right behind me, puffing and panting as they charged up the slope, desperate as I was to get away from the explosions.

  The Loyalists were firing smart missiles at us, probably from the valley below. They were probably instructing the missiles where to go in the hope that they would find us once they passed through the canopy, guessing where we might be. The last missile had seen us, hence its sudden change in direction, but not soon enough for it to work out a flight path. I knew that eventually one of them might be lucky, finding its way to us through the trees.

  Harried by a series of further explosions behind us we ran on, powering up the slope at best speed. I tried to keep my pace reasonable, knowing that the casualty would slow us down.

  ‘We need to change over,’ Myers shouted from behind.

  I turned to see that Skelton was dropping back. He was a strong lad with a similar age and build to mine, and he wanted to get Gritt to safety as much as I did, but he was only human and the slope was steep. We had another few hundred metres to go before we reached the top.

  I swore, knowing that there was no choice. ‘Do it quickly!’

  There was a thump as another missile struck a good few hundred metres to my north, and my spirits lifted. It seemed that the enemy had miscalculated our extraction route.

  With a groan, Myers heaved Gritt over his shoulder and sprinted up the slope toward me. He was young and skinny, but he was far tougher than he appeared.

  We continued our ascent, our lungs aching with the exertion as we tried to get as far from the contact point as possible. My respirator motors whirred loudly as they fought to prevent my visor steaming up, blasting sweat away from my brow.

  I wondered if my messages had made it through to brigade, and flicking to the brigade net, I said, ‘Zero, this is Blackjack-One-One-Charlie, over!’

  The response was instant. ‘This is Zero, send message.’

  We had the full attention of brigade, of that I had no doubt. If a Blackjack call-sign was sending contact messages, calling for fire missions and close-air support, everyone back in Paraiso sat up to take notice.

  ‘My call-sign has broken contact, extracting to Emergency Landing Zone One,’ I panted. ‘Any news on close-air support?’

  ‘Zero, roger. Close-air is inbound, two minutes. Confirm you are clear of your second orbital bombardment grid, I have no eyes on …’

  I swore. Our orbital assets couldn’t see us through the canopy, and had decided not to drop their payload without confirmation that we were clear of the impact zone. That was all well and good, but somewhere down in the valley our enemy was licking his wounds and preparing to follow us up.

  ‘I am clear,’ I responded, failing to hide my impatience. ‘I need those bombs to aid my extraction!’

  ‘Zero, understood.’ If the operator on the other end was offended, he didn’t show it.

  ‘Blackjack-One-One-Charlie, roger, what about the first location I sent, for the valley base?’

  There was a pause, as though the operator was conferring with someone. ‘Zero, no, we are unable to prosecute that request. It’s too close to a civilian population.’

  ‘The bombs are to protect the civilians,’ I protested as I drove on up the hill. ‘They’re being attacked by Loyalists!’

  ‘Understood, but we cannot drop bombs next to civilians.’

  ‘Shit!’ I cursed, switching off the net. There was no point in arguing; brigade had made their mind up already. Eden Joint Command dictated that no bombs were to be dropped near to civilian populations in case the Alliance, watching from a distance, got the wrong idea and launched an attack on the Union. We would allow civilians to be killed, just so that it didn’t look like we were trying to kill them ourselves. Like New Earth, Eden was a messed-up place.

  A burst of darts whizzed through the trees, clipping a branch nearby. I wasn’t sure if the Loyalists had located us, or if they were just trying their luck, firing into the forest to see if we gave away our position by shouting or firing back.

  ‘Fucking hell,’ Myers growled, and I saw that he too was now struggling under the weight of his wounded comrade.

  I stopped. ‘Give him to me!’

  ‘I’m alright,’ he protested, barely able to get the words out. He was clearly exhausted.

  Another burst cut through the forest. It wasn’t aimed at us directly, but clearly the enemy had finally worked out which way we were headed. They must have found our trail - we had hardly been careful in our haste not to make one.

  ‘This isn’t the time to be a hero!’ I snapped. ‘Give him here!’

  With Skelton helping, we moved Gritt onto my shoulders. I allowed my rifle to drop by my waist on its sling as I shifted the trooper to balance across my back, grasping his legs and arms to hold him in position. God only knew what harm we were doing to him by carrying him that way, but we didn’t have a choice. If the Loyalists caught us he’d be dead anyway.

  ‘Let’s go!’

  I was fit - far fitter than most of my section. Endless hours of training had seen to that. I sped up the slope as fast as my legs could carry me, the section trailing behind. It wasn’t normally the ‘done thing’ to carry casualties as a section commander, but this wasn’t a normal situation. Not only were we taking fire, however inaccurate it was, but we were also about to be on the receiving end of an orbital bombardment. Somewhere high above us co-ordinates were being confirmed, and trajectories were being calculated, before the nearest ship or orbital platform finally released its payload onto the surface of Eden.

  ‘Blackjack-One-One-Charlie, this is Zero, that’s release nine-five, bombs in the air, bombs in the air!’

  I understood the message from brigade. The first salvo had been dropped - depleted Uranium bombs that would turn into molten balls of metal as they plummeted through the atmosphere to smack into the surface like a man-made meteorite. We had ninety-five seconds before they struck, and we had no way to call them off.

  The enemy fire increased, and I ducked instinctively as a round cracked overhead, causing me to stumble forward and drop to my knees.

  Cursing, I picked myself up to continue the withdrawal.

  Somebody hollered from behind, ‘Man down!’

  My gut wrenched - not another one! I set Gritt onto the ground.

  Behind me I could see two of Puppy’s fire team clustering around another fallen trooper, and my visor display identified it to be Wildgoose, the section sniper.

  ‘Skelton, Puppy!’ I ordered. ‘Bombs up, now!’ I pointed downhill toward the source of the enemy fire, and the grenades were fired seconds later. ‘What’s up with him?’ I demanded anxiously, ignoring the detonations. We needed to keep moving.

  Puppy helped the fallen trooper to his feet. ‘Nothing. A sprained ankle! He’s just being weak!’

  I resisted the urge to laugh elatedly; Wildgoose would live.

  ‘Let’s get going, then!’

  We continued our charge up the hill. The enemy fire seemed to become infrequent and inaccurate as we approached the lip of the valley. Then, just as we reached the top, a series of almighty explosions rocked the ground beneath our feet with an almighty thump. The first orbital salvo had struck the ground, blasting our OP, and anything nearby to it, into atoms.

  I stopped. ‘Myers, get your stretcher out!’

  The stretcher was quickly assembled, and we gently lowered Gritt from my shoulder. I checked his datapad; he was alive - just about.

  As Gritt was strapped onto the stretcher, I cast a glance through the trees, spotting something silver darting across the sky. The saucers had arrived, and not a moment too soon. I felt relief as I heard their cannon strafing the forest below, attacking anything that carried a weapon
, and I didn’t worry when I saw smart missiles launching into the sky moments later.

  Let the Loyalists do battle with our saucers, I thought. I didn’t even care if they shot the robotic craft down, so long as they kept our foe occupied long enough for us to make our extraction point.

  ‘Good to go,’ Myers announced once more.

  I turned back to see my section standing ready with the stretcher. ‘Good. Follow me.’

  Our dropship banked hard as it soared over the pickup point - a large crater just over a hundred metres across. I didn’t wait for it to land, I started signalling for my section to collapse from their defensive positions around the lip of the crater, and move close in to me at its centre.

  I patted Gritt on the shoulder as the dropship came to hover beside us, its open ramp just touching the ground.

  ‘You’ll be alright, mate,’ I assured him, though I knew he couldn’t hear a word I said. Gritt had sustained his sucking chest wound almost an hour ago, but he had survived so far. He looked like a boy, not much older than Myers, but his looks were deceiving. Like all troopers, he was a tough bastard.

  The section snatched up the stretcher as they bundled into the dropship, strapping it onto the central isle, before taking their seats either side. The crew compartment was cramped already without a stretcher in the middle, and they were forced to keep their feet up on the opposing seats, their legs interlocked.

  I was the last to mount-up, quickly placing my rifle in its rack just as the dropship raised away from the ground. No sooner had I taken my seat and clipped my straps together, than the dropship accelerated hard, its rear ramp still closing as it raced away from the pickup point.

  As the dropship banked, I caught one last sight of the valley - a pillar of black smoke telling of the orbital bombardment, and another of the Loyalist attack onto the village.

  Those bastards, I thought, my jaw tightening.

  Myers caught my eye from where he sat across from me, just as the dropship weaved around some unseen obstacle at breakneck speed.

  ‘You alright, Andy?’ He asked.

  Not really, just when I thought the world couldn’t sink to lower depths, I had witnessed an attack onto a civilian village. Eden was hardly a biblical paradise; it was merely another manmade hell.

  ‘Yeah, I’m fine,’ I lied. ‘Everyone else OK?’

  There was a chorused, ‘Yeah.’

  Satisfied, I switched my headset over to the dropship intercom to confirm our route would be via Paraiso.

  There was no point in taking Gritt to our patrol warren hidden in the Bosque, when another five minutes flight would take him to first-class medical care in the provincial capital; we would drop him off right at the hospital, where a team of doctors and medics would be waiting to take him away.

  It was said that if you turned up at Paraiso hospital with a pulse, then you would almost certainly leave with one. Built to serve one of the most affluent and privileged populations on Eden, it was known to house some of the best medical facilities in the galaxy.

  We were in the air for no more than ten minutes before the dropship rapidly decelerated, tossing us against our straps as it came in to land fast.

  ‘Get the casualty ready,’ the dropship commander ordered over the intercom. ‘Ramp down in ten seconds!’

  ‘Ramp down in ten!’ I shouted, and we quickly removed the straps that held Gritt’s stretcher in place, just as light burst into the compartment.

  We didn’t have to move from our seats - as soon as the ramp was horizontal the medics leapt onto it, dragging the stretcher out of the isle and carrying it away so fast that if I’d blinked then I might have missed it.

  There was no stopping for breaks, as soon as the stretcher and the medics were clear of the ramp we rose once more, treated to an unspoilt view of Paraiso city as we turned to make our way back into the Bosque. It was a breath-taking sight - a great metropolis built into a deep, ancient crater. Spires of glass gleamed in the setting sun, towering high above the lip of the crater in their reach for the heavens, and around them great domes contained rich suburbs, offices and high-tech factories. As the ramp slowly rose, I wondered how a province of such wealth and beauty could exist right beside such a brutal warzone.

  ‘Do you think Gritt will be OK?’ Myers asked me, just as the ramp slammed shut and the dropship accelerated once more. He blinked furiously, which I took as genuine concern for his friend.

  I regarded him for a second. ‘I think so.’

  ‘I hope so,’ Puppy said with a laugh. ‘I want to tell him you told the lads to plug his arse!’

  I smiled as the compartment roared with laughter, for a second forgetting the horror of the world we lived in. ‘Mate! Trust you to remember that!’ I said.

  Back to the contents page

  Paraiso

  ‘What was all that about?’ The sergeant major scowled as he regarded me from where he sat on the end of his metal cot bed.

  I stared back at him blankly, unsure of what to say in response. I still wore all of my combat equipment, having been summoned to his chamber as soon as my section returned through the patrol warren airlock. I was coated in mud, the result of several days living in a hole, followed by a lengthy fire fight.

  I was also exhausted. After leaving Gritt in the capital, we had been dropped several kilometres away from the warren and left to patrol back - a purposeful act intended to avoid giving away our location. The warren was on the western fringe of the Paraiso province, where it bordered with Edo. There was still a threat from Edo itself, which up until recently had been fighting a guerrilla campaign against Paraiso, sabotaging maglev rails and attacking factories. The Loyalist attack from the north had ended the campaign, but we still needed to be careful, the Bosque was a wild and dangerous place where anything could happen.

  The sergeant major had been eating, but despite having a spoon in one hand and a horror bag in the other, he still looked like a nasty piece of work in the dimly lit burrow chamber. I saw that his patrol kit was arranged about his cot bed, and his rifle was laid across his lap. He must have only just returned to the burrow recently, pulled off the ground from the brigade OP screen deep within the Bosque, and I suspected it had something to do with my section being compromised.

  He raised an eyebrow. ‘Well?’

  ‘We were compromised,’ I replied flatly.

  The scowl deepened. ‘I know you were compromised, you belter! Why?’

  Even dressed in full combat equipment with my bayonet still fixed to the end of my rifle, I couldn’t help but feel awkward under the recce 2ic’s withering glare. Sergeant Major Davies was as intimidating as they came. With sharp, hawk-like features and a shaven skull that some troopers swore he waxed, you could be forgiven for thinking that you were looking at the Devil himself. He was also an operator. A sergeant major didn’t get to be the recce 2ic by simply being good - he had to know his job inside out - and everybody else’s as well. When he asked a question, you answered honestly, or he would sniff you out like a rat.

  I explained how the suit had fired its weapons from only metres away, threatening to collapse my OP and give away my position, but he wasn’t satisfied.

  ‘So, you gave away your position - in order to prevent your position from being given away?’

  ‘I allowed myself to become compromised under my terms,’ I corrected, ‘rather than theirs.’

  ‘Is that why?’ His eyes narrowed. ‘Is that really the thought process you used? Or was it simply because you fancied having a pop?’

  ‘No, Sir,’ I argued.

  His eyes burned with rage as he glared up at me, looking as though any minute he might pounce up and start throwing punches. For a second I considered whether or not I could take him if he did.

  Shut up, Moralee, I scolded myself, what the hell is wrong with you?

  ‘It pisses me off that I’ve been made to collapse my platoon from the OP screen,’ he continued. ‘Four separate OPs, all abandoned and filled in. It als
o pisses me off that priceless intelligence, gathered by your OP, is probably rendered worthless now, because the Loyalists will know we have it. They’ll change the scramble on their net, and that’ll be the end of that. All thanks to you.’

  I swallowed hard as the sergeant major raised his spoon, pointing it at me like a gun.

  ‘What really pisses me off, though, Lance Corporal Moralee, and frankly worries me,’ he continued, ‘is that one of my section commanders is using his section as a fucking death squad. We’re recce. Yes, we do get punchy tasks, yes, we are the special forces of the battalion, but we are not here to rack up kills! Do you understand me?’

  I nodded slowly. ‘I understand, Sir. I can assure you that I made my decision with only the tactical situation in mind.’

  He went on, the anger in his voice increasing. ‘Sixth battalion recce have had to plug the gap we have left behind. Sixth!’ He spat the word as though he found it disgusting. ‘Brigade will be questioning whether we’re up to the task here. It’s fucking embarrassing! To make it worse, I have one of my troopers, one of your troopers, in a critical condition. It’s a miracle he made it into surgery, I’m told!’

  I remained silent. There was nothing I could say in response - he had gone for the jugular, near enough making me personally responsible for Gritt’s injuries.

  The sergeant major lowered his spoon. ‘Look, Lance Corporal Moralee, you’re a good NCO. You lead from the front, and you like to get stuck in to it. We need people like that right now, especially with the way this shithole is going. I know you were top third out of your recce course, otherwise you wouldn’t have been sent here to us in the first place. I certainly don’t doubt your ability. What we don’t want, though, is you using this place as an opportunity to wage your own personal war on the world. Do you understand that?’