RECCE (The Union Series Book 4)

by Phillip Richards

  The large administrative building housing the FEA headquarters was teeming with soldiers, with one of them stood by every doorway and window, covering out into the village. A small group of Guardsmen also stood at the foot of the stairwell leading up to the second storey, apparently waiting for their commanders to return. They were members of One Company - the same company that had been sent down to the village just as the FEA made their break-in. Ignoring their hostile stares, Myers and I walked up to the second storey - where we found Mr Barkley and his command group in a room crammed with FEA and Guard officers.

  The room was a hive of activity, as several soldiers worked to connect a trail of optical cables into various pieces of electronic equipment. In one corner of the room several officers studied a hologram of the village, dotted with icons and flashing messages.

  Mr Barkley was stood alongside two officers, chatting with them whilst his command group watched from nearby. I noticed the eagle emblem on the two officer’s arms, instantly recognising them as Presidential Guard.

  Mr Barkley noticed me arrive and gestured to the Guard officers. ‘This is Captain Mori and Captain Kimura,’ he introduced. ‘They are both platoon commanders from One Company.’

  I regarded the two of them, giving them both a small nod in greeting.

  ‘The Company have been sent down here to help restore some form of order in the village,’ Mr Barkley explained. ‘They’re organising their company into small teams, searching the village for leftover Militia and Loyalist sympathisers.’

  ‘What classes as a “Loyalist sympathiser” these days?’ I asked, bitterly, remembering Dakar as I glared into the eyes of the two Guardsmen.

  They stared back impassively, not rising to the comment; either they didn’t understand, or they simply didn’t care what I thought of them.

  Mr Barkley frowned for a second, before continuing cautiously, ‘I have told our two friends about the armed civilians you saw. They want to know if you have a description of any of them.’

  I shook my head. ‘I only really saw one of them, and only what he was wearing. He had a yellow civilian respirator and a blue jumpsuit.’

  ‘That’s a pretty broad description,’ the platoon commander replied curtly. ‘Did you notice anything else?’

  ‘No. I was too far away, and the smoke made it too hard to make anything out.’

  ‘Do you know where they went?’

  I shrugged. ‘Toward the northern end of the village, I suppose. They disappeared too quickly for me to tell exactly where they were going. So the Guard think the killers were Loyalists, then?’

  ‘We believe that they are Loyalist Militia dressed in civilian clothing,’ Captain Kimura said quickly. ‘It will not take us long to find them. They will struggle to hide within the village population.’

  ‘Well, happy hunting,’ I replied, icily. I didn’t want any part in the Guard’s efforts to “restore order”.

  The two officers studied me for a moment, and then Captain Kimura offered Mr Barkley a slight bow. ‘Thank you for your help.’

  ‘I’m sorry we couldn’t be of more assistance.’

  The Guard officer held up a hand. ‘There is no need to apologise. You have your job to do, and we have ours.’

  The two officers then swept out of the room, hurrying back to their platoons somewhere within the village.

  I watched them go, barely noticing the platoon commander’s glare.

  ‘Try to remember,’ he said testily, ‘… the Guard are our allies, whether we like it or not.’

  ‘With friends like them, who needs enemies?’ I replied. I might have fought alongside a couple of good Guardsmen, but that didn’t change my mind about their organisation as a whole; they weren’t to be trusted.

  Refusing to be provoked, Mr Barkley changed the subject, saying, ‘The battle for the village appears to be won. We’ll move back to the outskirts of the village next to Hill Kilo, have a quick briefing, and then begin the next phase of the operation. Have yours and Corporal Abdi’s section prepare to move, and we’ll leave here shortly.’

  I left Mr Barkley, returning to my section in anticipation of our withdrawal back to the hill. Forming them up at the rear entrance to the building we had occupied, I kept a keen eye out for the platoon commander emerging from the FEA headquarters whilst I updated everyone on the situation.

  ‘It didn’t take long for the Guard to start sending out death squads,’ Myers grumbled at the news.

  ‘To be fair, that might not be what they’re doing,’ I argued, even though I shared their anxiety. ‘We all saw what happened on the square. If there are Militiamen running loose in the village, then they’ll need chasing down.’

  ‘You know they’ll be up to no good,’ the young trooper replied.

  Myers was right. I was as cynical toward the Guard as any trooper could be, but I knew I needed to keep my men calm.

  ‘You all know I’m not a fan of the Guard,’ I said finally, ‘but let’s see what they do first before we start coming to conclusions.’

  Mr Barkley and his small team of troopers exited the FEA headquarters, and we promptly moved off, retracing our steps back through the village to meet with the sergeant major’s half of the platoon at the foot of Hill Kilo.

  The smoke was beginning to clear, and the rain had finally stopped, improving visibility and giving my men a chance to recover from the cold. A light breeze bit at our soaking limbs, but at least we were no longer wading through water, or huddling on a hillside waiting to freeze to death.

  Our route back toward the hill took us via the square, where we found a section of guardsmen surrounding the executed civilians and inspecting their bodies.

  I wondered who the victims were as we passed them, and what had occurred in the village to lead to their execution. Apparently the civilian population had been used as slaves by the Militia, forced to feed and supply the Loyalists stationed within the warren before helping them to withdraw their equipment. There was hatred amongst the villagers, of that I had no doubt, but there was something strange about the effectiveness of their uprising, as well as its impeccable timing. Were a group of civilians really capable of dealing so much damage to the Militia that had garrisoned the village? Where had they acquired all of their equipment? Their kit hadn’t simply been found in such good condition, it had clearly been supplied to them. There were only two organisations in the Bosque that had access to so much Union equipment: the FEA … and the Guard.

  12

  Hidden Arsenal

  Back to the contents page

  We found the other half of the platoon already occupying a cluster of disused buildings on the edge of the village, overlooking the foot of Hill Kilo. The sergeant major waited nearby, waving us toward him. He then quickly delegated positions and arcs to Corporal Abdi and me, so that our sections could form part of a platoon defensive formation that encompassed several of the buildings.

  ‘Corporal Moralee, have Puppy take your lads into that building there.’ He indicated toward a small, single storey house twenty metres to our north, ignoring the platoon commander as he arrived beside him. ‘Give your lads wide arcs that overlap with the other sections. I don’t want any gaps being left for a Loyalist to sneak through.’

  ‘Roger,’ I nodded, then gestured for Puppy to close in and passed him the message.

  The sergeant major looked to Mr Barkley and pointed at another building - this time a small garage standing nearby.

  ‘You’ll find the other section commanders waiting in there, boss, ready for your orders,’ he said. ‘Are you happy with the layout?’

  The platoon commander quickly scanned the area - if only to make note of where the sergeant major had placed the four sections. He could alter the formation if he wished, not that there would be much point in doing so. The role of Recce 2ic was given to a sergeant major because it required somebody with exceptional knowledge and experience; if he couldn’t site a defensive position correctly then we might as well have packed
up and gone home.

  The platoon commander nodded. ‘This looks fine, Sergeant Major.’

  The sergeant major switched his attention to Puppy and Corporal Abdi’s section 2ic.

  ‘You’ll find extra ammo, water and rations with my command group,’ he said. ‘It’s already split down for you. Dish it out, add it up, and have a fresh ammo state with me before we move out of here. There’s not much of it. You can blame that on those clowns!’ He jabbed a finger up at the Guard on top of the hill.

  Mr Barkley raised an eyebrow in concern. ‘How much have we got?’

  ‘We’ll talk about that in a minute, boss,’ the sergeant major replied irritably, and then he looked around at all of us. ‘Let’s not stand around gawping! 2ics, get your sections away. Section Commanders, Boss, let’s get this brief done.’

  We quickly obeyed, leaving our sections to be organised under the command of the 2ic’s whilst we all made our way into the garage. Inside we found Corporal Stanton and Corporal Kamara - both of whom were slouched against the far wall. They looked tired, as we all did. We were all caked in mud from the battle on the hill, and as we huddled together I noticed steam rising from our combats as the water slowly evaporated into the cold air.

  Corporal Abdi slapped me on the shoulder as he crouched beside me. ‘How’s it going, mate?’ he asked, smiling broadly.

  I nodded respectfully at my fellow section commander. It felt good to be acknowledged by one of my peers, especially since the other two commanders often regarded me frostily. ‘Yeah, I’m good. You?’

  ‘Just glad to be out of that rain,’ he replied. ‘The blokes are snapped with it.’

  Hearing his comrade’s comment, Corporal Stanton made a show of looking down at his soaking combats. ‘Yeah, no shit, Abs. Let’s enjoy the dry weather whilst we can.’

  We all murmured in agreement. A trooper quickly learned during his service that living on the battlefield and being soaked came hand in hand. But that didn’t stop it being unpleasant - nobody liked being cold and wet.

  I looked at Corporal Abdi. I had never heard him referred to by his nickname before. ‘Abs?’

  ‘Yeah, that’s what the lads call me.’ Corporal Abdi replied proudly, thumping his stomach. ‘You could iron a shirt on these…’

  Corporal Kamara snorted. ‘Keep telling yourself that, mate…’

  Mr Barkley entered the garage, followed shortly by the sergeant major. Neither of them looked particularly happy. Mr Barkley looked as though he had just received some particularly bad news, and the sergeant major’s anger was clearly evident by the fixed grimace upon his face. I found myself wondering if it was the incompetence of the Guard that was upsetting them, or if it was something else.

  The platoon commander crouched amongst us, regarding us all in turn.

  ‘How are the men? Are –’ he asked.

  ‘They’re fine, boss,’ the sergeant major interrupted from behind, and Mr Barkley nodded.

  The platoon administration was the Recce 2ic’s domain, even more so now that the platoon was together and he was working in the role of a platoon sergeant. All the platoon commander needed to know was that we were all alive and good to fight. The platoon had taken just three casualties during the attack - only one of whom needed to be evacuated by dropship whilst we had been in the village. Fortunately for him, our dedicated dropship squadron had been able to land right beside Hill Kilo unchallenged, speeding his extraction. He would live, and might even be healed soon enough to be returned to us in the field. There was no rest for the wicked, after all.

  ‘Good,’ Mr Barkley continued. ‘I’ve had my signaller fire up a message to brigade informing them that we have been successful. In turn, brigade will pass that message up to EJOC - though I suspect they already know anyway… Our orders are unlikely to change, so expect to remain here and continue to provide support to the Guard and the FEA whilst they consolidate on this position.’

  ‘Any idea when we might withdraw?’ Corporal Stanton asked, raising an inquisitive eyebrow.

  It was a fair question. There was no denying that the platoon was tired of fighting and eager to return to Paraiso. I didn’t share their desire for the comforts of civilization, but I understood their unease at continuing to support Edo, despite all-out war potentially looming on the horizon.

  The platoon commander shrugged. ‘I don’t know. I get a sense that there is an argument within EJOC over what to do next, and that uncertainty is filtering down to brigade. We have a strategic interest in the success of this mission …’

  ‘What strategic interest?’ Abs blurted, causing the sergeant major to look across at him angrily. ‘Sorry, boss, but I don’t understand how this is helping the Union. We’re helping Edo to collect weapons they can soon use against us when the Alliance come –’

  ‘We’re also helping them to deny weapons to the Loyalists,’ Mr Barkley retorted, and suddenly the sergeant major’s head snapped back to him, a faint look of surprise on his face - as if he was concerned about what the platoon commander might say next. ‘Amongst the stockpile of weapons kept here is a large amount of STORM missiles, as well as their accompanying launchers,’ he then explained.

  All eyes flicked between the platoon commander and the sergeant major. We knew what STORM missiles were. The abbreviation stood for Surface to Orbit Missile - essentially a larger, faster smart missile capable of escaping the atmosphere. They were the same missiles that were used against us during our invasion of New Earth, attacking warships entering orbit, as well as dropships making their descent to the planet surface. What we didn’t understand was why they were important.

  ‘We all know the Alliance fleet is approaching,’ the platoon commander continued, ‘and our relations with them are on a knife edge. If the Loyalists were to fire these missiles at an Alliance ship, they would trigger a chain of events from which there is no turning back …’

  ‘What does it matter if we destroy the missiles here?’ Corporal Abdi pressed. ‘There must be thousands more of them all across Europa. If they want to start a war, they’ve only got to push the button.’

  ‘You’re right,’ Mr Barkley conceded, ‘but the missiles stockpiled in Europa are controlled by the Loyalist military junta. Sick they might be, but they’re not idiots. The full force of the Alliance fleet could be directed at them in retaliation to any missile launch, so they’re not about to risk provoking an orbital bombardment.

  ‘It’s the Militia we’re concerned about, and their Colonel- Helstrom. He’s known for being as unpredictable as he is brutal. The Loyalist army has left him and his men virtually unsupervised to shield their withdrawal and extract the remaining equipment. It’s like leaving a group of children in a room with a loaded gun - a recipe for disaster. This operation - or at least our involvement in it - is about denying those weapons to the Militia.’

  Corporal Kamara gave a puzzled frown. ‘But if the Militia fire the missiles at an Alliance ship and start a war, Edo get what they want, don’t they? They could just sit back and let it happen. Why bother going through all this?’

  ‘The missiles are hidden. Their presence and the threat posed by their improper use is not common knowledge to anybody here. You have been, and will be, rubbing shoulders with the Guard and the FEA throughout this mission, therefore it was decided - by brigade - to keep you in the dark. Though this information might seem trivial to your men if you were to pass it down, the result of it being passed on is extremely dangerous.’

  Abs frowned as he tried to fit the puzzle together in his head. ‘So we’ve tricked the Guard and the FEA into capturing this place and the missiles, so the Loyalist Militia can’t have them?’

  ‘More or less.’

  ‘Nobody knows they’re here at all?’

  ‘Somebody does,’ I said.

  All eyes fell upon me.

  ‘That’s why the attack almost fell to pieces on the hill,’ I explained. ‘It was like somebody was deliberately trying to ruin the whole operation - somebo
dy in the Guard headquarters.’

  The other section commanders stared at me for a moment, realisation slowly spreading across their faces, and then their eyes darted back to Mr Barkley almost simultaneously, demanding explanation.

  Mr Barkley hesitated for a moment, and then finally relented, saying, ‘The long list of errors made by the Guard headquarters would point to the possibility that somebody might well have been working on the inside to scupper the operation. The problem is that the Guard and FEA headquarters can be extremely difficult to work with unless they actually want something from us, so it’s difficult to tell if somebody is deliberately hampering our efforts or simply being a “belter”. Either way, the mission hasn’t failed - owing largely to your efforts on the ground. With a few subtle prompts we have kept the Guard on the right track, and the objective has been secured. It’s highly unlikely that the Loyalists will attempt to recapture the hill, with or without inside help, so the missiles - wherever they are - are secure.’

  Abs didn’t appear satisfied by Mr Barkley’s explanation. ‘What’ll happen when the Guard or the FEA find the missiles?’ he asked.

  ‘Not much at all,’ the platoon commander said with a shrug. ‘They’ll probably extract them, along with whatever else they find, and add them to their own arsenal. We’re not about to invade Edo any time soon, so they’re welcome to them. They’re certainly not going to hand the missiles back over to the Militia, wrapped up in a bow, and besides that, they’ll struggle to find them anyway. Supposedly they’re very well hidden.’

  ‘How do you know that?’ Abs asked, relentlessly digging for more information.

  I could see the sergeant major beginning to fidget irritably out of the corner of my eye.

  ‘Information provided by EJOC,’ Mr Barkley replied. ‘Presumably our knowledge of the missiles has been obtained by their spy network across the provinces. The launchers have been left out somewhere and can be found relatively easily, but the missiles themselves are hidden.’