I noticed that one building along the street had been all but obliterated. Its upper storey had completely collapsed around it, reducing it to a wall of rubble that surrounded the remaining storey. Bodies were strewn around the area, as were sandbags and torn sections of razor wire that had been tossed across the street by the blasts that had ripped the building apart.
I noticed that the bodies near to the structure were that of Loyalist soldiers, rather than Militia, and that most of them had died from gunshot wounds. The bodies further away from the building were that of civilians bearing weapons and armour. It looked as though a large battle had been fought over the structure; a battle between a large group of armed civilians and the Loyalist defenders.
The remains of several automated guns were amongst the rubble, as well as a Loyalist suit that rested against another building, a gaping hole blown through its armoured chest. Though I couldn’t see inside, it was pretty obvious that the man controlling it had died.
My visor marked several FEA soldiers within the lower storey of the building, using the rubble as cover from which to observe outward. They were surrounded by stacks of ammunition crates that were piled against the surviving walls, and I noted that there was easily enough of it there to fight a small-scale war.
‘According to the FEA, the structure on your right houses one of three access tunnels leading to the warren system beneath Hill Kilo,’ Mr Barkley informed us as we walked. ‘It is here where the Militia’s LSV’s are believed to have emerged from. That would make sense, because the LSV’s would have been kept underground whilst they were loaded with ammunition and equipment to transport back to Europa. The Militia would have quickly thrown off their cargo once our attack started so that the LSV’s could be used as fighting vehicles instead. The entrance was initially targeted by our saucers until the FEA artillery took over, so I would presume the vehicles exited the tunnels at that point in time in order to make their counterattack. Clearly the local population decided to attack the tunnel at around the same time.
‘The Loyalists must have fought hard to keep this tunnel open, so that the remainder of their forces could escape from underground, though the FEA can’t be certain if they all managed to escape. Our partners haven’t yet managed to completely clear the warrens beneath us, so it’s entirely possible that there are more Loyalists hiding out beneath us. I would consider that unlikely, however, given that they know their army are withdrawing and that their eventual capture will lead to certain death. They would have let Colonel Helstrom’s Militia do most of the work holding us back whilst they fought to make their escape.’
I looked into the smouldering remains of the building, imagining the desperation of the Loyalist unit charged with holding the tunnel open, bombarded by railgun shells and battered by our saucers, only then to be attacked by a horde of vengeful civilians. I was sure that at least some of them had escaped out of the tunnel, but there were bigger questions bothering me: of those Loyalists that had managed to escape, how many had actually fled the village, and how many had chosen to steal civilian clothing and stay behind? Then there was the Militia - would they have done the same? Only ideological and cultural differences separated the people of Edo from those of Europa, and with the village being so close to the border, those differences were ever more blurred. I certainly couldn’t tell a civilian from a Loyalist, and I doubted that the Guard or the FEA could do a better job. Would the defeated Loyalist soldiers and Militiamen be able to hide amongst the population?
‘Andy,’ Myers said, snatching my attention away from the tunnel entrance. ‘I think you should see this, mate …’
The young trooper pointed toward the buildings further along the street, where tens of bodies were hanging by their necks from the second storey windows.
I stopped for a moment, taken aback by the sight of the figures.
‘What the fuck is that?’ Skelton exclaimed.
I said nothing, continuing to patrol toward the hanging bodies. Finally, I stopped beneath them and stared upward, my lip curling into a sickened grimace.
‘My God …’ I whispered in disgust.
They were civilians, or at least I was pretty sure they were. It was hard to tell what they were wearing - their clothes were blackened and coated in blood. Respirators removed, they hung lifeless from the second floor windows, suspended by what appeared to be electrical cable tied about their necks. Their hands had been cut off, the stumps washed by the rain so that the whites of their bones were clearly visible. I wasn’t sure when they had died, but by their pale white skin and sunken faces I guessed that they had been hanging there for a while. It was pretty obvious that they had been killed by the Militia during their occupation, most likely as a means to rule by fear.
‘Vicious fuckers,’ Skelton exclaimed, through gritted teeth.
I nodded slowly, gazing into the eyes of one the hanging corpses, hypnotised by the expression of terror and agony frozen upon her face. ‘Yeah.’
‘Why do you think they chopped their hands off?’
Myers grunted. ‘Because they’re sick bastards - like every other bellend on this shithole planet.’
I regarded him for a moment, surprised by the vehemence in his tone, before turning back up toward the bodies.
There was a dismal murmur amongst the section as each trooper drew up to see what had caused us to stop. Our recent experiences in the Bosque had shown us the lows to which humanity could sink, but the sight of the executed civilians was still a dismal one indeed.
I imagined the hapless victim’s last moments, screaming in agony as the blood squirted from their stumps and the poisonous air attacked their lungs, hoisted up into the air for all to see.
‘The Militia must have used them as a message,’ I said finally. ‘“Do what we say, or this is what will happen”.’
‘Well, shit the bed … they could just put up a sign or something!’
I took one last look at the gruesome spectacle.
‘These bastards don’t think like that. They rule by fear and intimidation.’
‘Just like the Guard,’ Myers added bitterly.
There was more gunfire, closer this time. We instinctively dropped to our knees, raising our weapons as we prepared to defend ourselves.
The gunfire was coming from a few hundred metres away, I realised, in the centre of the village. I knew that the FEA should have cleared there, but I doubted the thoroughness of their clearance. Remembering the Loyalists that might have escaped from the tunnels, I motioned for the section to follow me down the street.
We reached the point where the street opened into the large square at the centre of the village, surrounding the base of the air factory. The massive structure towered into the cloud of smoke, its looming funnel barely visible.
We fanned outward, glass crunching beneath our boots as we scanned the square for enemy. My visor display identified tens of potential targets amongst the buildings around the square, marking them with orange crosshairs as it struggled to work out if they were a threat in the smoky haze.
‘There are loads of civvies around here,’ I cautioned over the section net. ‘Don’t shoot unless you know you’ve got a target.’
The ground was littered with bodies telling the tale of a raging gun battle that had been fought around the base of the air factory. Many of them were armed civilians, equipped as well as any Guard or FEA soldier. I studied the bodies, wondering where they had obtained so much military hardware. Everything they wore appeared to be relatively new, as if it had been pulled straight off the shelves only a few days ago. Then, as I looked down at one of the bodies, I realised something that caused me to stop and stare: his equipment wasn’t just new … it was ours … the civilians were wearing Union equipment.
Suddenly Myers pointed to our left. ‘Who are those guys over there?’
I followed his outstretched arm, seeing a group of figures milling around the opening to another street on the northern end of the square. Though dressed in civili
an clothing, they appeared to be heavily armed, and I quickly realised that several of them were aiming their rifles at three more civilians on their knees. There was something wrong about the way they were stood around their prisoners, looking down at them intently. The kneeling civilians weren’t about to be taken away for questioning, I realised, they were about to be executed.
‘Hey!’ I shouted, trying to make them pause whilst I figured out what to do next. I couldn’t simply shoot them, I didn’t know who they were, and I didn’t know for certain that they were about to shoot their captives.
None of the armed civilians took any notice, except for one - a figure dressed in a blue jumpsuit and yellow respirator. The figure looked up at us casually, as though he wasn’t concerned at all by our presence.
‘I don’t like the look of this lot,’ Griffiths warned.
Myers’s rifle slowly raised toward the civilians. ‘Me neither.’
Suddenly the civilians opened fire on their captives, spraying them with darts. Their hapless victims dropped to the ground instantly.
‘Shit!’ I cursed, snatching up my rifle in surprise at the sudden execution that had occurred right before my eyes. I had killed and wounded enemy soldiers before, but never unarmed civilians whilst they knelt at my feet.
The armed civilians saw that we had raised our weapons, but they didn’t respond in kind - instead they ran away from us, disappearing into the street to the north.
‘Push forward!’ I ordered, with a sweep of my arm.
We trotted toward the bodies, keeping our speed just slow enough so that we could still aim with our rifles.
I quickly glanced over my shoulder and caught Puppy’s attention at the rear of the section, pointing toward the southern end of the square. ‘Cover our rear, mate!’
‘Will do!’
My fire team quickly spread across the junction, four barrels pointing down the northern street. There were more civilians, watching from open doorways and smashed out windows. I couldn’t tell if any of them had been the armed executioners that we had seen moments ago, but I suspected that they weren’t. As I scanned for targets, a platoon of FEA soldiers crossed over a junction a hundred metres away, presumably hurrying toward a battle to the eastern edge of the village.
‘This place is crazier than a box of frogs,’ Skelton commented, causing somebody to snigger.
Ignoring his comment, I tore my eyes away from the street, walking over to where the executed civilians lay face down on the ground. I stepped over to the nearest victim, treading in a pool of blood slowly spreading amongst the shards of glass. I stooped over the body and rolled it over. A young, clean-shaven man stared through me, his teeth stained red with blood. There was no telling if he was a Loyalist dressed in civilian clothing, or just an innocent victim. Who were the people that had killed him, I wondered, and why?
‘What’s going on, Corporal Moralee?’ Mr Barkley called out from behind me, having emerged into the square in response to the gunfire.
I looked up from the corpse. ‘We just saw this lot being executed!’
‘Who by? FEA?’
‘No. The shooters were dressed in civvies!’
The platoon commander didn’t appear bothered.
‘OK. Get your section together and push on up the street to the north,’ he said. ‘I want to get to the northern end of the village so I can meet up with the FEA battalion headquarters.’
I nodded, switching to my section net. ‘Puppy, close in. We’re pushing north.’
I saw Puppy give a thumbs-up from the southern end of the square, before quickly rounding up his fire team.
‘What are we gonna do about them?’ Myers asked me from his fire position nearby. He nodded down at the bodies at my feet.
I took one last look at the executed civilian I still had hold of, and then released him, allowing him to roll back into the puddle of his own blood.
‘Nothing.’
We found the FEA headquarters not long after leaving the square. They had occupied a series of multi-storey administrative buildings on the north-eastern edge of the village, using the vantage point to oversee the progress of the battle. Their three fighting companies had virtually cleared the entire village, whilst their support company had spread themselves out across the outskirts, establishing a perimeter with their heavy weapons. It was a far more professional show than the poorly-organised circus we had seen on the hill - which was embarrassing for the Guard, considering that the FEA were little more than conscripts, many of them with less than a few months of military experience.
My section and Corporal Abdi’s established a perimeter around the buildings, adding to the protection already provided by several sections of FEA.
Meanwhile, Mr Barker entered the building containing their battalion headquarters, curious to find out what was going on across the village. Sergeant Major Davies had reported that all was quiet back on Hill Kilo, and that the FEA were claiming to have successfully cleared the warren system beneath them. It was a pretty tall claim - the warren was supposed to be extensive and the FEA hadn’t taken long to clear it - I wondered if they even knew how to clear through a warren.
I had my troopers spread out across the ground floor of a smaller, burnt-out administrative building, pushing over desks and other office furniture to create cover from which to observe out of the windows. They wouldn’t stop a dart, but they made us harder to spot.
As soon as our position was established, Puppy used the free moment to get us all to double-check our equipment again, making sure that none of our respirators were damaged, and that we still had enough food and water. We had already checked our equipment after the battle on the hill, but that had been in the pouring rain. Rain could affect even the most professional troopers, damaging morale, decreasing dexterity and shortening concentration. Mistakes were often made in the rain - which was why there was a saying in the dropship infantry - ‘Instant fool; just add water!’
Whilst my 2ic did his job of maintaining the section, I found myself a spot in the middle of the building, beneath a doorway, where I could see most of the ground floor. Sitting down with my back against the doorframe, I took a long drag from my feeding straw, filling my mouth with warm, tasteless pulp. I hadn’t eaten as much as I should have for the time I had spent in the field - an easy thing to do whilst commanding a section.
Swilling the food around inside my mouth, I thought back to the sheer brutality that I had witnessed in the village: the civilians who hung by their throats with their hands severed, and the executions that had taken place right in front of us.
Who were those armed civilians, and who were their victims? Were they Militiamen committing their final acts of depravity before they fled from the village, or were they in fact villagers taking their revenge upon the very people who had oppressed them for so long?
I had often said that there were no good guys and bad guys in war, but on Eden it seemed as though everyone was one of the bad guys.
‘You alright, mate?’
I looked up at Puppy, who leant over me with his hand against the wall.
‘Yeah.’ I replied. ‘I’m just resting for a moment.’
He smiled. ‘Fair one. You’ve had less rest than any of us.’
I looked at the troopers spread across the building. ‘How are the lads?’
‘Tired, but otherwise fine.’ He flicked his head up toward the roof. ‘At least they’re out of the elements.’
‘Perhaps a break from the weather will cheer them up,’ I agreed hopefully.
Puppy sighed. ‘I’m afraid it’ll take more than that to cheer them up.’
I regarded my section 2ic for a moment, knowing what he was getting at. I remembered the sense of gloom I felt amongst the platoon during our orders back in Helsinki, and the grumbling comments being made by my troopers - Myers and Griffiths in particular. They had grown weary of the fight for the Bosque, of the senseless killing and needless suffering - they didn’t understand it, nor did they und
erstand why they needed to play a part in it.
‘The blokes are tough,’ Puppy assured me finally. ‘They’ll fight for each other, if nothing else, but it’s hard to stay positive when you feel like you’re fighting for the wrong people.’
I nodded. ‘I know. And I know I haven’t set a good example by doing my own thing in Dakar.’
Puppy smirked. ‘I think you set a better example than you think, mate. The blokes are angry at their current situation, but they know that if bad stuff starts happening again, you won’t stand by and watch.’
I fidgeted awkwardly under my 2ic’s praise. ‘I think if I ever kick off with the Guard again, the sergeant major will shoot me himself!’
‘Probably!’ Puppy said, laughing loudly. Then his face hardened. ‘So what do you think?’
I frowned. ‘About what?’
The 2ic held up his arms. ‘All this.’
‘I don’t know,’ I replied, after a moment. ‘It seems to me that there’s more to this than a simple grab for weapons and land.’
Puppy nodded slowly. ‘I know what you mean. Something wasn’t right with that attack. Edo’s automated guns have never let us down before, and why are they pulling crack soldiers off the frontline to replace them with novices? Somebody doesn’t want this mission to succeed … somebody within the Guard.’ He shook his head. ‘That’s the problem with this place. It isn’t just a clean-cut “there’s the red team, there’s the blue team” situation here. Everyone has their own agenda, and it’s never what you expect it to be.’
‘We need to watch the Guard closely,’ I concluded. ‘I don’t trust them. Some of them are alright: Rusakov, Yulia …’
He laughed. ‘Yeah, your girlfriend turned out alright in the end, didn’t she?’
I bristled irritably at the suggestion that she and I could be an item. ‘Screw the nut, mate!’
Mr Barkley suddenly spoke on the platoon net, calling for me to close in to his position so that I could speak with some Guard officers. I exchanged raised eyebrows with my section 2ic, then picked myself up and beckoned for Myers to accompany me over to the FEA battalion headquarters.
RECCE (The Union Series Book 4) Page 18