The smart missile must have been directed toward the windows, because it detonated inside one of the rooms, rocking the entire building with the blast. Loose chips of plaster and masonry clattered around me, bouncing off the back of my helmet.
Scrambling to my feet, I covered the last few steps to the upper floor in a single bound, half expecting to find a scene of total carnage.
A haze of grey smoke hung in the southern room, and there in the centre of the dividing wall was a large circular hole, big enough to fit a trooper with all his kit. Furniture had been ripped to shreds and blasted across the room.
I ran into the northern room - the side of the building where Puppy and his fire team would have been drawn by the gunfire - expecting the worst.
I saw one of the windows was completely open, and I knew that was where the missile had entered the building. The enemy were still firing at the window, though rather inaccurately, their darts tossing chips of masonry into the room as they struck the wall around it.
Puppy’s fire team were sprawled across the floor, their bodies tossed to the ground by the detonation of the missile. Three of the troopers began to pick themselves up from the ground as I ran into the room, heading straight for the one man who didn’t appear to be moving. It was Puppy. A yellow crosshair flashed around him on my visor display, accompanied by an audible warning over the section net. My heart skipped a beat when I realised that my section second in command was down.
‘Man down!’ I hollered.
I didn’t stop to check Puppy over, there was no time. I grabbed him by the straps of his daysack and dragged him rearwards.
Despite the gunfire directed onto our building, and the recent missile strike, the men of Puppy’s fire team returned to the windows, the roar of their weapons amplified by the walls around us.
‘Get away from the fucking windows!’ I ordered them as I slid Puppy into the southern room, looking over my shoulder as I guided him toward the stairwell.
I couldn’t tell if they had heard me, but I couldn’t see anyone following. Sometimes troopers could become so absorbed in a fire fight that all sense failed. They hated the Militia with an indescribable passion, and they yearned for revenge.
‘Down the stairs!’ I shouted urgently. ‘Get off that floor!’
The enemy had already fired a missile directly through one of the windows in our building. Perhaps it was coincidence, but I doubted it. Either the robotic mind of the last missile had identified our position on its own, or its firer had directed it onto us. Either way, the chances of a second strike were high.
Myers was stood halfway up the stairwell, and he swore as he saw me dragging Puppy. ‘Is he OK?’
‘I don’t know!’ I snapped. ‘Take him down to the ground floor - quick!’
Myers raced to grab Puppy and pulled him unceremoniously down the stairs - he could moan at us later for the bruises, but at least he’d be alive.
The remainder of Delta Fire Team had emerged from the northern room. They sprinted through the swirling smoke, covering the distance to the stairwell in milliseconds. I propelled each one of them down the stairs with a slap against their daysacks, relieved that I had managed to get them off the upper floor without any further casualties.
The last trooper, Wildgoose, was just passing me when there was a massive thump, and I was tossed across the stairwell as though I had been hit by an elephant, crashing against the far wall and then rolling down the stairs, followed by a cloud of dust and smoke.
I felt a pair of hands grabbing my shoulders in an attempt to prevent me from falling any further, but then Wildgoose landed on top of me and we all rolled in a tangle of arms, legs and rifles down to the middle floor.
We lay sprawled at the foot of the stairwell for several seconds, until somebody let out a long, painful groan.
‘Well, that wasn’t much fun,’ Wildgoose said.
‘Everyone alright?’ Weatherall asked, as he and Griffiths pulled us apart.
I was lying amongst all the members of Puppy’s fire team, I realised, all dazed by our tumble down the stairs. A red warning flashed in the corner of my visor display.
‘Check your respirators,’ I ordered as I sat up, correcting my seal to remove the warning. The tiny motors in the respirator whirred as it quickly worked to remove the toxins of the Eden atmosphere.
The other troopers obeyed, and I thanked the heavens that nobody had broken anything.
Another smart missile struck the upper floor, causing us to duck automatically as the blast shook the floor beneath our feet.
‘What’s happening?’ I asked Wildgoose through gritted teeth.
‘The Militia are firing from the north,’ the sniper told me, inspecting a small gash on his forearm.
‘Where in the north?’
He made a sweeping gesture with his arm. ‘The whole way along it. There must be twenty, maybe thirty firing points. Then they started firing missiles …’
I listened to the sound of enemy darts hammering against the upper floor. It was as though they were directing everything they had onto us, forcing us out of our position. We couldn’t stay where we were, taking missile after missile, and it was a miracle that we had taken only a single casualty, but for a few cuts and bruises.
There was no more time to consider options. I needed to get my men off the upper storeys before they collapsed.
‘Come on,’ I ordered, ‘let’s get out of here!’
We scrambled to our feet and ran toward the stairwell that led to the ground floor, hurried by another detonation above our heads.
‘Myers!’ I called out, as I bounded down to the lower floor, clearing several steps with every stride. ‘How’s Puppy?’
The sergeant major was standing at the foot of the stairs.
‘Puppy’s fine,’ he said. ‘What about the rest of you?’
My eyes darted across the room. Sure enough, Puppy was crouched with his back against a wall, his arms at his side whilst Myers toyed with his respirator. I saw that my 2ic’s eyes were open, and breathed a sigh of relief. We had already taken one casualty too many in my section.
‘We’re all fine,’ I confirmed.
I ordered my men to spread out across the rooms in the lower floor, and then quickly explained to the sergeant major what had happened. ‘I think they’re directing all of their fire onto us,’ I summarised.
As if to confirm my point, there was another blast above us.
The sergeant major appeared irritated by the blast, rather than concerned. He wafted the resulting cloud of dust from his visor. ‘We’re better off staying indoors for the moment. I’d rather take my chances with the building collapsing than with the smart missiles.’
‘How is Three Section?’ I asked, in afterthought.
‘They haven’t been touched,’ the sergeant major said. ‘I’m not sure the Militia know they’re there, so I’m getting them to keep their heads low.’
He quickly reported our situation to the platoon commander whilst I trotted over to where Puppy sat against the wall. Myers had just finished applying an adhesive patch onto a crack that ran along his visor, pressing it hard with his hands to make sure the seal was complete.
‘He OK?’ I asked, as I crouched beside them.
Puppy blinked at me, his eyes glistening. He hadn’t been crying, but the sudden return to consciousness had caused his tear ducts to go into overdrive - that’s what he would tell you anyway!
‘I’m fine,’ he replied gruffly.
I grasped his forearm to check his datapad, but Myers stopped me with a wave of his hand.
‘He really is fine, mate,’ he said. ‘The shock of the blast just knocked him out, that’s all. Nothing like what happened to you.’
I smiled at my section 2ic. ‘Well, thank God for that. How much air has gotten through his visor?’
‘Not enough to cause a problem. The visor only cracked a little when it took the blast. Saved his life.’
‘Just as well,’ I said. ‘We seem
to be in the habit of having things blow up in our faces, right?’
Myers grinned, genuinely relieved that Puppy was OK. The young trooper had already lost one friend to injury; he didn’t want to lose another.
‘The enemy fire has stopped,’ Griffiths pointed out to everyone.
I stopped to listen. The sound of gunfire had been replaced by the frantic shouting of soldiers across the village. It was as if the Militia knew that we had moved into a position where their missiles would struggle to reach us.
‘What the hell is going on?’ Myers breathed.
The sergeant major finished explaining the situation over the net, and there was a pause of several seconds whilst the platoon commander assessed the information.
‘Roger,’ Mr Barkley finally acknowledged. ‘The Militia appear to be engaging us from several positions across our northern frontage. Most of their rifle fire has been relatively inaccurate. They appear to be firing from too deep within the forest to get eyes onto their targets, and so they are simply firing blind in an effort to keep us busy. The smart missiles, however, appear to be directed. The missiles are launching from multiple locations, deeper within the forest, and they are all converging onto specific locations across the village. Why the automated guns aren’t engaging the missiles isn’t clear, but my assessment is that targets are being marked from within the village so that the missiles can be fired blind.’
‘It’s those fucking rats within the Guard …’ Puppy said groggily, having heard the message from the platoon commander.
Myers raised an eyebrow. ‘What rats?’
I opened my mouth to answer, but was cut short by the sergeant major: ‘Corporal Moralee! Get your men to keep their eyes out! Look for anything suspicious, we’re being watched!’
I gave Puppy a reassuring pat on the shoulder, and then moved over to one of the southern rooms - where Wildgoose clung to the shadows, observing through a window.
‘See anything?’ I asked, as I crouched behind him, looking out onto the street.
An assortment of red and orange crosshairs flickered on my visor display as civilians were drawn to their windows by curiosity. They obviously thought that they were invisible, stood right up against the windows of their darkened rooms, but they clearly hadn’t considered the effectiveness of our visors and sophisticated targeting systems.
‘We seem to have an audience,’ Wildgoose observed.
‘These people are absolutely mental,’ I said, shaking my head in disbelief. They were simply stood there, in their windows, watching the missiles hurtle toward us like spectators in a stadium. Did they think that they were invincible, or was it that they simply didn’t care for their own lives anymore?
As I looked out onto the street, something caught my eye. A civilian was leaning out of a doorway nearby, dressed in a blue jumpsuit and wearing a yellow respirator. He was staring right at us. My heart jumped. Was that the same man I’d seen at the execution on the square?
‘Shit!’ I cursed, standing up to run.
‘What’s up?’ Wildgoose asked.
I pointed. ‘That’s the guy I saw yesterday!’
I was half out the doorway when Wildgoose realised what I was pointing at, and swore loudly.
Ignoring the confused glances of my comrades, I ran across the hallway, bursting out of the entrance and onto the street.
‘Hey!’ I shouted, snatching my rifle up into the aim. My visor identified the civilian with an orange crosshair, its targeting computer having decided that he wasn’t a threat - it didn’t matter, he was still a target, and it was still my decision whether to fire or not.
The civilian saw me and jerked back inside the building, the orange crosshair that had marked him instantly disappearing.
‘What’s going on, Moralee?’ the sergeant major scowled from within the doorway.
‘I think I might have just seen our observer!’
‘Where?’
I pointed, dropping a crosshair onto the building where I had seen the man in the yellow respirator.
‘You sure?’
‘Pretty sure!’
It took him milliseconds to make his decision. ‘That’ll do for me! Take the building! Go green - no shooting unless you have to!’
‘Roger! One Section, let’s move!’
We burst out of our building, running along the street in a single line with our weapons pointed in all directions.
We quickly stacked up beside the doorway where the potential observer had disappeared, with me standing just behind Myers and the remainder of my section closed up behind me.
A quick glance over my shoulder revealed that Puppy was back with us, the opportunity to catch one of the Guard insiders having brought him back to his senses. We exchanged a respectful nod, and I turned my attention back to the doorway.
Myers leaned out and studied the door. Its hinge was closest to us and it opened inward - which was good, because when it was opened we could see into the room beyond straight away and could enter easily.
I turned back to Griffiths and made a swinging motion with my hands, indicating for him to use the butt of his mammoth to break through the door. We hadn’t brought any ‘break-in’ equipment with us, but the mammoth would do the job. The weapon was large and sturdy, and most low-tech airlock doors were little stronger than the door to a refrigerator.
He crept around us until he stood facing the door, keeping his mammoth trained on it as he did so. Then he quietly spun the mammoth around so that its butt was presented, ready to swing. He nodded, signalling that he was ready.
Myers made a slow, deliberate nod of his head to tell me that he was ready to launch, and I nodded a millisecond afterward. Then, with all his might, Griffiths swung the mammoth butt into the door, smashing it so hard that it flew open and he narrowly avoided stumbling in after it.
Like athletes released from the starting blocks, Myers and I stormed through the open door, safety catches released and trigger fingers poised to fire. Breaking off in either direction, we swept into the room beyond, with Griffiths and Weatherall following close behind.
Regular troopers are pretty good at building clearance - the nature of modern warfare requires them to be good at it - but to see Recce troopers sweep through a building is something else, though. With barely a word spoken, we systematically cleared through the building in our fire teams, room after room. Despite our speed we were thorough, checking behind every door, every item of furniture, in less than a minute. That was until we reached the last room, though.
‘One civilian casualty,’ Puppy announced quietly, as his fire team reached the final room on the upper storey.
‘Secure the stairwell,’ I ordered my fire team.
They obeyed, positioning themselves on the landing so they could cover down the stairwell, just in case somebody tried to sneak up behind us.
I walked into the room that Puppy had cleared, stopping when I saw the dead civilian lying on the ground, marked by an orange crosshair. I swore in disgust at the sight.
His throat had been slit open, all the way back to his neck. He lay on his back in a pool of blood, his head tilted backward leaving the gruesome wound yawning open.
Wildgoose stooped over the civilian, inspecting his body. ‘He’s fresh.’
Puppy frowned. ‘How do you know that?’
‘He’s marked on your visor as a potential target, right?’
‘Yeah.’
He tapped his visor with a finger. ‘Switch to thermal only. He’s still warm.’
I looked down at my datapad and navigated through the menus, switching my visor to ‘thermal only’ as instructed. Sure enough, the body still glowed pale yellow against the cold blues of the floor around it.
‘How long do you reckon?’ I asked, switching my imaging back to normal.
‘Not long,’ the sniper said after a moment’s thought. ‘Maybe two or three hours. It takes a while for all the heat to escape from the core of the body.’
I looked away from th
e body and walked across to one of the windows where Thapa observed back into the street. The view onto our building was perfect, completely unobstructed. I could see straight through each one of its smoking windows, as well as the entrance on the ground floor.
‘They used this place to watch us,’ I said, ‘and then they marked us with an infra-red laser. Directed their missiles straight into us. No need for net transmissions. There’s no way our scanners would have picked it up –’
‘And this sorry civvie was in the wrong place at the wrong time,’ Puppy finished.
I grimaced at the butchered civilian. It was an awful sight to behold. Some people might say that the sight of human meat and gore was something you grew used to, but I didn’t like to think of it that way. Repeatedly seeing the horrors of war didn’t make it any less horrifying. I had simply learnt to put up with it.
The civilian had been killed so that he couldn’t warn us, I figured, the killer hacking through his throat until not a sound could escape from his body.
‘What did he look like?’ Puppy asked me.
I shook my head. ‘I was too far away, but I’m sure it was one of the guys I saw yesterday - the one in the yellow respirator and blue jumpsuit.’
‘Well,’ Wildgoose said with a hint of sarcasm, ‘that narrows it down.’
I shot him an angry glance.
‘Sorry.’
‘Andy,’ Myers poked his head into the room. His eyes flicked to the murdered civilian briefly, then back to me. ‘The sergeant major wants you downstairs.’
I saw that the ground floor had been flooded with Guardsmen as we made our way down the stairs. They had obviously seen us break into the building, and were now busy raiding through every room, upturning furniture and ripping things from the walls in search of clues. They clearly knew, as we did, that somebody was trying to ruin their operation, and they were as keen as we were to capture them.
We found the sergeant major in one of the rooms, the carpet pulled back to reveal a dark tunnel opening, large enough to fit two fully-kitted drop troopers side by side.
RECCE (The Union Series Book 4) Page 28