RECCE (The Union Series Book 4) Read online

  RECCE

  PHILLIP RICHARDS

  Book Four of The Union Series

  The Electronic Book Company

  A New York Times Best-seller

  Listed Publisher

  www.theelectronicbookcompany.com

  www.facebook.com/quality.ebooks

  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this ebook with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this ebook and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author. This ebook contains detailed research material, combined with the author's own subjective opinions, which are open to debate. Any offence caused to persons either living or dead is purely unintentional. Factual references may include or present the author's own interpretation, based on research and study.

  Copyright © 2015 by Phillip Richards

  All Rights Reserved

  CONTENTS:

  Title Page

  Author Bio

  Acknowledgements

  Introduction

  Chapter 1 – Awakening

  Chapter 2 – Helsinki

  Chapter 3 – Orders

  Chapter 4 – Route In

  Chapter 5 – FUP

  Chapter 6 – H-Hour

  Chapter 7 – Change of Plan

  Chapter 8 – Relief

  Chapter 9 – Anti-Armour

  Chapter 10 – Fire Support

  Chapter 11 – Cellini

  Chapter 12 – Hidden Arsenal

  Chapter 13 – Standby

  Chapter 14 – B Company

  Chapter 15 – The Deal

  Chapter 16 – Execution

  Chapter 17 – Missile Strike

  Chapter 18 – Retreat

  Chapter 19 – Escape to the Tunnels

  Chapter 20 – Separated

  Author’s Notes

  Books In The Union Series

  Author Bio

  Back to the contents page

  Phillip Richards was born and raised in Chichester, south England. He joined the Infantry at the age of seventeen, and he still serves today. During his service he has taken part in two operational tours in Kosovo, four in Iraq and a further two in Afghanistan. He is now a Platoon Sergeant, and he uses what little spare time he has to pursue his hobby, writing science fiction. This is the third science fiction novel that he has written, which has been influenced by his service within the British Army. The story and all of the characters within it are entirely fictional, however, so if you know him and think that you recognise yourself for good or bad reasons, you are mistaken!

  Link to my blog site:

  http://militarysciencefictionblog.blogspot.co.uk

  Facebook:

  www.facebook.com/phill.richards.1238#

  Acknowledgements

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  Once again, a massive thanks goes to Steven for producing an amazing book cover, it's been a pleasure working with you. To see more of Stevo's work, visit him on the following link: http://steve-o-o-c.deviantart.com

  Thank you to my wife- Supermum- for her support, friendship and masterful parenting skills. If you hadn’t somehow succeeded in getting our boy to sleep at night I don’t think this book would ever be finished!

  Thank you to my son, for making my wife and I complete. We are both immensely proud of you. I can’t say you supported me in terms of providing time in the evenings to write, but you did give me the inspiration I needed to keep going.

  Thank you to my readers, for their patience and encouragement. This book has taken far longer to write than I could ever have expected, so I sincerely hope it was worth the wait!

  Thank you to the men of my platoon, who I reluctantly handed over to my successor earlier this year. You are all an absolute inspiration, and without a doubt the finest, most professional platoon I have ever had the honour of working with. Saying goodbye to you all was unexpectedly emotional- especially the part where I drunkenly fell down the stairs! I wish you all the best, and expect to see at least a few of you wearing some extra rank when I finally return.

  I should never forget that my platoon are but a handful of the millions of brave men and women who serve their countries across the world. We should all be immensely proud of the sacrifices they make for us each and every day, so that we may enjoy our freedom.

  Introduction

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  Andy Moralee's recovery in Paraiso hospital is short-lived. Less than days after his re-awakening, he returns to his platoon just in time to deploy on a mission that will take him and his men far deeper into the Bosque than they have ever ventured before. The Guard are resuming their offensive, mounting a daring raid against an enemy stronghold close to the border with Europa, and Recce Platoon has been given a pivotal role within the operation.

  But after a catalogue of errors and unfortunate coincidences, it quickly becomes apparent that there is more to their mission than meets the eye: somebody doesn't want them to succeed, somebody working from amongst the local population - and within the Guard itself ...

  Surrounded by a bloodthirsty horde of Loyalist Militia, and undermined by an enemy hidden amongst their supposed allies, Andy and his platoon must hold their nerve in the face of rapidly-shifting odds, or else succumb to chaos.

  Note from the author: Recce was written, produced and edited in the UK where spellings and word usage can vary from U.S. English. The use of quotes in dialogue and other punctuation can also differ.

  1

  Awakening

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  I woke with a start, my heart pounding hard against my chest. Muscles tensed as I prepared for action, and my eyes darted back and forth as I tried to work out where I was and what was going on.

  The room was silent. There was no gunfire, no thumping of distant explosions and no troopers shouting orders. I relaxed back into my bed as I remembered where I was: in Paraiso hospital, far away from danger. Machinery sat idle around my bed, scanning my body so that the doctors could monitor the healing process and watch for any signs of deterioration.

  I would live, of course - it was said that anybody who arrived at Paraiso Hospital with a heartbeat would leave alive, such was the level of medical care there. Paraiso was the wealthiest province on Eden, its people enjoying a standard of living that the thousands of troopers sent from Earth could barely comprehend. Some of them could even afford to cheat death and live on for centuries. They knew that they owed their standard of living to the Union - and troopers like me who held their enemies at bay - and so it was only fair that they shared their hospital with us when we needed it most. I was lucky. On New Earth- the colony where I had last been based - I couldn’t have expected such sympathy from the local population, and in times of war I probably would have died during my passage through the medical evacuation chain.

  I stared up at the ceiling - it was white and featureless, as were the four walls of my room. Ordinarily I would be surrounded by holograms of waves lapping against a beach, or flowerbeds swaying gently in the breeze, but I had asked for the holograms to be turned off. The hospital staff couldn’t understand why I would turn down such a simple luxury, but I insisted I be left without them. It didn’t seem right to enjoy my stay after having seen so much suffering only days before. For all I knew, my platoon could still be out in the forest, risking their lives for a cause that barely made sense.

  Whilst staring skyward, I suddenly became aware that I wasn’t the only man in the room. I could feel a presence at the foot of the bed, an
d when I looked, I saw a dark set of eyes burning into me.

  ‘I was wondering when someone might come to visit,’ I said, recognising the newcomer.

  ‘Were you expecting a ceremony?’ Sergeant Major Davies harrumphed.

  With his shaven skull, hawk-like features and dark, piercing eyes, the sergeant major stood at the end of my bed like the grim reaper waiting to take me to the underworld; I suppose in some ways that was exactly what he was.

  ‘No,’ I said, ‘I was expecting to be jailed.’

  The sergeant major raised an eyebrow. ‘Do you think you should be?’ he asked.

  I chose not to answer, instead asking, ‘How are the lads?’

  ‘They’re fine,’ he replied, abruptly, indicating that he wouldn’t discuss the platoon further.

  I was in a ward dedicated to military casualties, segregated from the rest of the hospital, but nobody could guarantee the loyalty of the staff that cared for me. Spies apparently lurked all across the province - from all different nationalities.

  I nodded slowly, hoping the sergeant major would at least tell me if there had been any further casualties.

  ‘Frankie’s fine as well,’ he added. ‘He’s healing nicely. Though he might take a little longer than you to get out of here. He’ll probably wind up being sent back to Earth.’

  Frankie was another of the casualties we had sustained during our recent battle in the disputed Bosque region. I had never spoken to him - though I had often heard that he was an excellent trooper with a glittering career ahead of him. He had taken a round to the chest that had punctured through his body armour and ricocheted off his rib cage. During its passage through the lower half of his body, the supersonic dart had struck various organs - including his spleen. Many troopers might say that Frankie was fortunate to be sent back to Earth for a complete recovery, but I was glad that I was staying. I wasn’t ready to return home. Not yet.

  I sighed. The sergeant major and I were useless at making small talk, and we were simply skirting around the real issue that needed to be addressed.

  ‘So what happens now?’

  He frowned. ‘What do you mean – “what happens now?”?’

  ‘Am I going to be charged?’

  The frown deepened into a grimace. ‘If you were on a charge, then the boss would be too, and I would probably be sacked, wouldn’t I?’ He glared at me for a second. ‘It was an unfortunate accident.’

  ‘We’re saying it was an accident?’

  ‘Well, I seriously doubt that we ordered our own artillery to fire onto the Presidential Guard deliberately ...’ The sergeant major’s tone turned acid. ‘That would be pretty fucking stupid considering the situation, wouldn’t it?’

  My jaw clenched. He and I both knew that I understood exactly what I was doing when I’d called for the artillery strike onto our supposed allies. The Presidential Guard were killing innocent civilians, and I could no longer stand back and watch them do it. Even several days after the event, I still had no regrets - regardless of what he thought about it. It was one of the few things I had done during my time in the dropship infantry that I would have done the same a thousand times over.

  He glared at me for a moment. ‘You are staying in the platoon, if that’s what you’re worried about. The boss seems to think you still have something to offer- and I am in reluctant agreement with him.’

  I relaxed slightly, relieved that my time in Recce Platoon hadn’t been brought to an abrupt end.

  Spotting my relief, the sergeant major jutted a finger at me. ‘Don’t think that you’re off the hook that easily,’ he snarled. ‘Be under no illusion that if the boss hadn’t suffered his own moment of madness then you would either be in cuffs - or left for dead in the woods! I will ensure that you are suitably punished for your actions, Moralee, but for now, I need commanders. Rest assured that when things calm down you will be Lance Corporal Shit Jobs until we get back to Earth! Understand?’

  I nodded, slightly taken aback by his rant, but also intrigued. There was something amongst his threats though that stood out to me: he needed commanders. Something was up, and I would be stepping out into the Bosque once again. I knew it.

  ‘I am told you will be fully fixed in a day or so,’ he continued, his anger subsiding. ‘Correct?’

  ‘Yes, sir.’

  It was amazing to think that I had been on death’s door only days ago. Bizarrely, the doctors had said that even though my injury had been more life threatening than Frankie’s, I was apparently the easiest to fix because my injury involved fewer organs … or something like that.

  The sergeant major nodded. ‘Good. Once you’re discharged, you will be transported straight to barracks. Confine yourself there until I come to collect you, and have your kit ready to deploy.’

  ‘Yes, sir.’

  With that, the sergeant major spun on his heel and stalked out of the room, as if he was searching for somebody else to shout at. I watched him go, wondering if the Recce 2ic liked me … or absolutely hated me. He was a hard man to read - mostly because he always seemed poised to launch into the attack the moment one of us stepped out of line. He watched us all like a hawk, missing nothing.

  Surely he knew that I had done the right thing? The platoon commander certainly did - at the time at least. It was he who had confirmed that my fire mission was correct when it was questioned by the artillery commander. What was the point in us being troopers if we merely sat back and watched as civilians died?

  A nurse entered the room, smiling sweetly - in total contrast to the sergeant major’s evil scowl.

  ‘How are we feeling, Mr Moralee?’ she asked, pleasantly.

  ‘Not too bad.’

  She flicked her head toward the door through which the sergeant major had exited. ‘Was it good news?’

  I regarded the nurse for a moment, wondering what constituted “good news” for her. Perhaps she thought I had been told that I was to be left in Paraiso, to relax amongst the battalions of troopers who sat idle across the province waiting for a war that would probably never happen. Or perhaps she thought I was to return to Earth, to the relative safety of the poor, overpopulated slums that had once been my home.

  ‘Yeah,’ I said darkly, ‘it was good news.’

  I checked myself out of Paraiso Hospital after having been there for less than a week. Clean-shaven and fully-dressed in clean fatigues provided by a trooper sent to escort me to barracks, I walked into the hospital reception as though I had never been injured. I felt like a new man, my body repaired and charged with fresh energy. All I wanted to do now was return to my platoon and get back out into the Bosque.

  There were three other troopers checking out at the reception desk, though I doubted that any of them were combat casualties like me. The Union was trying to avoid being sucked into the nearby conflict, worried that any direct engagement could provoke the Alliance into action. Very few had actually seen combat on Eden. I wasn’t sure what had caused the troopers to become hospitalised, but I doubted it was for anything serious. Perhaps injuries caused by sport or physical training, or perhaps a drunken fight that had gotten out of hand.

  My eyes flicked to the badges worn by the troopers on their uniform. They were members of the 1st Battalion, the English Dropship Infantry - my battalion. Of the three fighting companies that made up the battalion, only one of them was based close to the border with Edo, the other two being left to wait in their warrens around Paraiso City in order to provide reassurance and protection to the wealthy capital.

  What did surprise me, though, was the number of troopers there to escort us. I counted four of them, including the one who had come to my room to give me my combats. They were all unarmed, so their presence had little to do with providing us with protection, but they weren’t there simply to give us a lift to our respective barracks either. They were there to control us, to make sure we went nowhere other than back to our units. Something was up.

  The receptionist smiled from behind the desk as he took o
ur details one by one, waving his hand through a hologram in front of him to remove our names from the hospital database. He appeared oblivious to the number of troopers sent to escort us - not that I expected any civilian to notice.

  ‘That’s it,’ he said finally. ‘Take care, gentlemen.’

  ‘Cheers,’ we murmured, in unison, and our escorts ushered us toward the hospital entrance.

  I allowed the others to file out of the glass doors first, taking a moment to marvel at the scale of the glittering city beyond. You needed to see Paraiso, the aptly named provincial capital, to comprehend the financial wealth and the security that its people enjoyed. Shimmering skyscrapers pierced through vast domes of glass, and lush green parks were spread between brilliant white buildings.

  A true indicator of Paraiso’s disconnection from the conflict raging across the border, though, was that we weren’t required to carry respirators. There was no fear of the great glass domes being destroyed, allowing the precious air to escape. Most cities across the galaxy required their people to carry respirators, just in case such an event occurred, but not Paraiso - they seemed to believe that they were untouchable … I guess that was what money could do to people.

  A LSV – light support vehicle – was parked outside the hospital, its huge chunky tyres and heavily armoured hull contrasting starkly beside the luxury civilian vehicles waiting beside it. The weapons appeared to have been removed, so as not to disturb the population.

  We wouldn’t want anybody to think there was a war on, I thought to myself bitterly, that was bad for business.

  The three troopers chatted amongst themselves as we walked toward the LSV, exchanging tall tales of their exploits in the local bars. I paid little attention to the discussion, my mind preoccupied by my return to Recce platoon - I wondered where they were right now, and what they were doing. They weren’t in the Bosque, wherever they were, otherwise the sergeant major wouldn’t be back in Paraiso making hospital visits. They were about to go somewhere, though, I could feel it. Why else would the platoon be in such a rush to get me back?