RECCE II (The Union Series Book 5)

by Phillip Richards

  ‘I’m Poltergeist-Three,’ the man confirmed in a French accent, stepping over to shake my hand. ‘I work with Aleksi. I’m about to launch our next attack from here.’

  ‘Where is he?’ I asked.

  The Frenchman flicked his head westward. ‘Aleksi’s further along the building, making sure it’s cleared properly. There are very few of us, so we must spread ourselves widely to influence the battle.’

  I nodded. ‘Do you need anything from me?’

  ‘Hopefully not . . .’ The Frenchman tapped a finger onto a thin datapad on his forearm, then glanced up the corridor expectantly.

  One of the Boskers screamed out an order moments later, and the entire building erupted with noise as the suppression of the second barrack building began. It sounded as though every weapon in the entire Bosker army was firing, which probably wasn’t far from the truth. The noise steadily grew into a crescendo as more Boskers realised what was happening and joined in.

  I saw the Frenchman tap his datapad again, and the platoon of Boskers sprang into action, bounding along the corridor toward the airlock. One of them kicked it open, causing it to alarm as they charged out like a pack of dogs released by their master.

  I followed them up to the airlock, stopping just close enough to see the parade square. I couldn’t tell what it had looked like before I’d instructed Myers to destroy the glass roof, for now it was carpeted with glass shards, and strewn with twisted metal from the girders that supported it. I could hear the glass cracking beneath the Bosker’s boots as they sprinted across the square, desperate to make it to the barrack building ahead of them.

  Unfortunately, it seemed that a tonne of steel still wasn’t enough. Undeterred by the enormous weight of fire directed onto them by the Boskers, the Militia emerged from within the windows of the far barrack building, spraying darts down upon their would-be attackers. As I watched in dismay, the hapless amateur soldiers were cut down one by one, and their attack quickly stalled as they realised their covering fire wasn’t enough to prevent the Militia from defending themselves.

  ‘Don’t stop, you idiots!’ I shouted at them, but they couldn’t hear me. They didn’t have headsets like mine, and the sound of gunfire would have been deafening.

  The Frenchman saw that the attack was going wrong, and spoke a string of frantic commands, presumably directed toward those commanding the platoon. Realising that the Boskers weren’t responding, he simply swore and thumped his fist against the wall beside him.

  Stalling the attack was the Bosker’s biggest mistake. You never froze or changed your mind in the middle of an attack, not without paying a price. You were committed, one way or the other. To hesitate was to allow the enemy the chance to regain the initiative, and once you did that it was game over.

  Within less than a few seconds the attacking platoon had been reduced to a third of its number, the surviving Boskers scrabbling for whatever cover they could find on the parade ground. Most of them cowered behind a low wall that formed part of a seating area, whilst Militia darts peppered the ground around them.

  The Frenchman uttered a string of curses, seeing that his attack was about to fail. His weapons were the men that he trained, equipped and directed, and unfortunately that weapon had reached its limit. I knew that very shortly he would be asking me to cover that shortfall.

  ‘Yulia!’ I called, remembering the large arsenal of smart missiles she and her party carried. My section only had one left, but she had enough to reduce the last building to rubble.

  ‘Yes, Andy?’ the ex- Guard captain responded from somewhere behind me. It didn’t sound as though her group had moved from the room we had found them in.

  ‘The Boskers are getting shot to shit! Use your missiles!’

  ‘We cannot do that!’ she replied. ‘We need them!’

  Infuriated by her inaction, Puppy shouted around the corner of the junction. ‘Use your missiles, for fuck’s sake! People are dying out there!’

  ‘We can’t!’ Yulia repeated.

  I knew there was no point in pressing Yulia to do my bidding. I had no authority over her. That didn’t mean that Aleksi and his men didn’t, though.

  ‘They’ve got a load of smart missiles back there!’ I told the Frenchman. ‘They’ll be able to help!’

  ‘I’ll get them!’ he said, then ran back toward the room where Yulia and her team waited. I could hear him shouting at her, and her arguing back.

  I wasn’t going to join in or hang around to find out the result of their argument, not while the Boskers were being mowed down by the Militia.

  ‘Myers! Missile! Onto that building!’

  ‘Roger!’ The young trooper must have been expecting the call, appearing beside me with his launcher already to hand. He took a knee and then hefted the launcher onto his shoulder, then pointed it toward the open airlock.

  ‘Back blast!’ I warned. I looked behind me and saw that a fresh platoon of Boskers were crowding around the rear of Myers’ launcher, curious to find out the fate of their comrades and oblivious to the threat posed by the missile exhaust. ‘Get out of the way!’

  The Boskers moved, and once they were clear I slapped Myers on the shoulder. ‘Fire!’

  The entire corridor flashed with blinding white light as the missile fired, screaming out of the airlock and toward the building beyond.

  The Frenchman returned with two of Yulia’s men, both of whom carried launchers. Somehow he had managed to persuade her to help, though her offering was meagre in comparison to the number of launchers I had seen in her team.

  ‘Fire through there!’ I shouted at them, pointing toward a window to the left of the airlock before spurring them with a frenzied wave. ‘Go, go, go!’

  The two Boskers set up their launchers and fired moments later, their missiles striking against the Militia held building with almighty thumps.

  Using the shock from the missiles, the battered Bosker platoon withdrew across the parade square, dragging and carrying as many of their stricken comrades as they could.

  ‘I’m going to send out another attack!’ the Frenchman said as the sorry procession limped and staggered in through the airlock. As we watched, one of the last Boskers was struck by a dart on the back of the head, causing him to collapse to the ground.

  ‘What?’ Myers returned his launcher to his daysack. ‘Through the same airlock?’

  The Frenchman wasn’t finished. He pointed back the way we had come. ‘I want you to attack from further back simultaneously!’

  The young trooper paused for a moment, struggling to comprehend what he was hearing. ‘You’re gonna use them as a diversion so we can get across instead?’

  ‘Yes. I’ll send another platoon to follow you once you’re in.’

  Myers pointed out onto the square, where the unfortunate members of the last platoon lay dead. ‘They’ll fucking die out there, just like those poor bastards!’

  The Frenchman glanced at Myers like a man might glance at a raving drunk at a bar, then looked back at me expectantly.

  There was no chance of my arguing. Even if I disagreed with the cynical disregard of human life, it didn’t matter. Einsatzgruppe-19 were in charge, not us, and our mission was to ensure that they achieved theirs.

  I gripped Myers’ shoulder with a restraining hand, then nodded. ‘We’ll be in position in two minutes. One Section, prepare to move!’

  ‘Prepare to move!’ everyone responded . . . except for Myers.

  ‘Come on, Myers!’ I ordered, then spun on my heel and ran back the way I had come, beckoning for my section to follow.

  I ignored Myers’ protests as I led my men away, as well as the stares of the Bosker platoon that were forming up, ready to be sent to their deaths.

  As I ran, it suddenly surprised me how readily I had agreed with the Frenchman’s sacrifice of an entire platoon of Boskers. Then I remembered what the sergeant major had said about Eden. It sucks you in, corrupts you. . . I had thought that New Earth had done all of the damage that c
ould be done to my soul, but I realised then that it had only made the first scars. Eden was doing the rest.

  ‘All Blackjack call signs, this is One-One!’ I announced as I hastily searched for a room close to the eastern end of the barrack building from which to launch my section. ‘I have been instructed to conduct a simultaneous assault with the Boskers against the second building. I may require fire support to complete the crossing!’

  ‘One-Zero, roger,’ the sergeant major responded from somewhere on the second floor. ‘Where do you intend to break in?’

  I found an unoccupied room complete with a window, and stepped as far into it as I dared, careful not to expose myself to the Militia firing from the other side of the parade square. I then pointed to the furthest right-hand window on the far building, dropping a crosshair at its base. ‘Look for my crosshair. The Bosker assault is two hundred metres to the west of the crosshair, and is intended as a feint.’

  ‘Seen.’ The sergeant major confirmed that he had identified the crosshair. ‘We will keep most of our weapons trained onto your area, but won’t fire unless required. We’ll fire a couple of grenades out to the west in order to add to the deception.’

  I looked over my shoulder, confirming that my men were all ready. ‘We’re going to cross the open ground on my order! Don’t stop for anything! Once we’re in, we need to cause maximum shock until the Boskers follow in behind us. I want total chaos in there!’

  Five heads nodded.

  ‘Remember, do not stop in the open ground!’ I repeated once more, then I switched to the net. ‘Poltergeist-Three, that’s me in position!’

  ‘Good,’ the Frenchman replied. ‘I am about to launch the diversion now. Allow a short pause so that it draws the enemy’s attention before you move. Poltergeist-One, are you happy for me to proceed?’

  Aleksi’s response was instant. ‘Proceed.’

  ‘I can’t believe we’re using them as a diversion,’ Myers muttered from behind me, loud enough for me to hear.

  ‘We don’t have a choice,’ I replied without turning. My eyes remained fixed on the window ahead of me as I mentally prepared for my assault. I drew my last grenade from its pouch, keeping it ready in my hand so that I could throw it as soon as I reached the window on the opposite side of the square.

  Myers wasn’t giving up, though. ‘We seem to be getting pretty good at sacrificing innocent people to get what we want . . .’

  I flinched as the young trooper touched a nerve, my anger suddenly boiling over. ‘Well welcome to the real world, Myers!’ I snapped, baring my teeth as I turned back to confront him. ‘If you don’t like it, piss off to Two Section and wait with them in the sangar compound! I’m sure you know the way!’

  Myers said nothing, silenced by my suggestion that he leave the section.

  What’s wrong with this boy? I asked myself as the two of us glared at one another. I knew that he was suffering, but now was not the time for a trooper to decide he didn’t want to play.

  ‘That’s the Bosker assault launching now,’ the Frenchman said, bringing an end to our stalemate.

  Seconds later, the noise of gunfire increased on both sides of the parade square, marking the appearance of the fresh Bosker platoon. Emerging in exactly the same place as the last platoon, they instantly drew all of the Militia’s attention - which was exactly what their Einsatsgruppe-19 controllers wanted.

  ‘Prepare to move!’ I warned, then waited a few seconds for the Boskers to soak up all of the Militia weaponry. Despite Myers’ misgivings, I knew that it would give my men the best possible chance of making the crossing in one piece. As a leader of men, I considered it the lesser of two evils. Better that some of us made it to the second building than none of us at all.

  ‘Let’s go!’ I shouted.

  Myers surprised me as he exploded into action, barging past me to take his position as point man. I presumed that the act was intended as some kind of display of anger, but I wasn’t going to kick off over it. He was meant to be in front of me in the order of march anyway. I followed just behind him, running across the room, vaulting through the window and then out onto the square.

  The carpet of glass cracked and gave way beneath my boots as I sprinted toward the window in pursuit of Myers, hooking around to the right in order to avoid the ferocious exchange of firepower between the two buildings. The square flashed continuously as thousands of darts struck the ground nearby, illuminating us and casting long shadows that danced like ghouls across the walls of the barrack buildings. I didn’t know if any of it was directed at us, and I was only vaguely aware of the fresh wave of Boskers off to my left. All that mattered was to get my men across the square.

  We had almost reached the second building when somebody behind me yelped. I glanced over my shoulder, my eyes widening in horror as I saw that Puppy had fallen to the ground.

  Myers saw the same thing, and he slowed. ‘Puppy!’ he cried out in anguish.

  ‘Keep going!’ I roared, pushing the young trooper’s daysack and propelling him on toward the open window. Regardless of what happened to Puppy, we couldn’t hesitate in the middle of an assault. Doing so would be suicide, not just for the individual but for the section as a whole.

  ‘We can’t leave him there!’ he yelled, trying to fight with me as his emotions battled with tactical reason.

  ‘Keep going, you dick!’ I gripped him by his daysack strap and dragged him the last ten metres after me, tossing him against the wall of the second building like a rag doll.

  He rebounded from the wall, almost toppling to the ground before I gripped him by the collar and held him aloft. I indicated upward, to the numerous windows on the second storey. ‘Cover the wall!’ I snarled.

  I quickly inspected the window beside us. To my dismay, the glass was somehow intact, though covered in cracks like a spider’s web. Of all the windows I had chosen, it had to be the only one that had somehow survived all the explosions and gunfire.

  Just then somebody leant out from within one of the windows above us, possibly the same man that managed to hit Puppy. I turned my rifle upwards and fired several darts in his direction, causing him to disappear, though I never knew if I hit him.

  Discipline and survival instinct took over, and Myers snatched up his rifle to cover. Moments later, Griffiths crashed against the wall next to us, panting heavily.

  I glanced back to where Puppy had fallen. My visor indicated that he was a casualty, and as I watched Wildgoose reached him, stooping down to drag him after us. It didn’t matter. What mattered was to make the break in before we were cut down in the open.

  As if to remind me of the more pressing situation, somebody shouted from within the room beyond, and a rifle fired. Darts stitched holes through the wall beneath the window frame less than a metre away from me.

  I stood back and returned fire into the wall, desperate not to allow our attack to fail. We were horribly exposed against the side of the building, and seconds from being cut to pieces.

  ‘Griffiths!’ I hollered. ‘Smash the glass!’

  Griffiths lifted his mammoth, and with one mighty swing he smashed the glass, causing it to fall away from its frame as a single sheet.

  As the glass shattered on the floor, I tossed my grenade through the open window, allowing it to detonate moments after. It shook the earth beneath my feet and sent a plume of dust out from the room. Released by the explosion, I instantly stood up and leant through the window, firing like a madman into likely enemy positions. I then climbed over the frame, helped over by Griffiths.

  As soon as I was in the room beyond I moved clear of the window, rifle raised and ready to fire. A man moaned pitifully on the floor, and a silenced him with a dart to the chest.

  Griffiths was next to enter the room. I didn’t have time to ask where Myers was. I saw the opportunity that Griffiths’ mammoth provided and I seized it.

  ‘Into the wall!’ I ordered, pointing frantically. ‘Fire into the wall!’

  Griffiths needed no f
urther explanation. We were the first men to enter a building containing nothing but enemy, so everything around us was fair game. He opened fire with his mammoth, spitting death into the walls with indiscriminate fury. Hundreds of molecularly sharpened darts punched through the thin masonry like paper. Though they would quickly lose their power as they passed through the building and were unlikely to hit anything, they provided the shock factor we needed to secure our foothold.

  Using his wild burst as cover, I ran up to the only entrance to the room, a closed door that was already riddled with holes. I kicked the door open, causing it to smash against the wall on the opposite side, then threw my last grenade into the corridor beyond. I then ducked out of the way, just before it exploded. There was no plan of attack, no tactics to speak of. The only weapon I had to bring to bear was chaos.

  Suddenly a torrent of darts ripped through the walls, spraying us with dust and flecks of masonry and causing us all to duck even lower. The Militia were shooting through the walls, just as we were, only they appeared to have more weapons than we had.

  ‘Fuck you!’ Griffiths screamed, ignoring the barrage and continuing to fire his mammoth.

  As I virtually crouched into a ball to avoid the onslaught, I saw that Weatherall had appeared beside me, lying on the floor and still flashing yellow.

  ‘Throw another grenade through the door!’ I shouted through gritted teeth, as more plaster fragments bounced from my helmet.

  ‘I’ve got no grenades!’ Weatherall replied, clawing at the ground as though he was trying to dig a hole to crawl into. His eyes were so wide I thought they might pop out of their sockets.

  I cursed. Why was I even asking him? Puppy had the only remaining grenade. As I feared, we had run out of explosive munitions, significantly reducing the shock factor we could have on our opponent.