RECCE (The Union Series Book 4) Page 3

  The sensation of hot water running over my body was no longer of any interest to me - I was going back to my platoon, and that was all that mattered. I turned off the shower and quickly dried off.

  The sergeant major was waiting by my door, drumming his fingers against his belt kit impatiently.

  ‘What took you?’ he asked, with a frown. ‘Did you stop for a shit or something?’

  ‘No, sir,’ I replied, stepping past him to tap the entry code into my door. It slid open silently, and I rushed inside, picking up on the sergeant major’s haste.

  It took me little more than five minutes to get into my combats and slip on my gel armour, dressing as though I was going into battle. The brand new kit gave me the appearance of a CROW trooper fresh off the troop ship - though the hard lines on my face told a different story.

  I clipped my webbing about my waist, and then slung my daysack and grip bag over my shoulder.

  ‘Ready?’ the sergeant major asked, making no attempt to hide his impatience.

  I looked over the room briefly, checking to make sure I hadn’t left anything behind. My towel, my bedding, even the fatigues I had worn since leaving the hospital could all be left behind for the warren quartermaster to deal with. Like any good trooper, I travelled light, never collecting equipment that was no use to me in the field. The only personal belongings I had were an assortment of family photos I kept in the Recce patrol base.

  Satisfied that there was nothing left of use to me, I nodded.

  ‘Good. Let’s get out of here.’

  We left the empty corridor, making our way out of the accommodation toward the armoury. The tunnels of the warren echoed with boisterous shouting, as though the troopers contained within its network of corridors were having a party. We left the noise behind us as we made our way briskly toward the armoury.

  ‘They’ve grown weak here,’ the sergeant major said disapprovingly, as he stepped up to the armoury hatch. ‘All the troopers should be kept away from this city. The conscripts could easily keep it secure by themselves, but instead we kept an entire battalion here, sat around drinking and fucking around. Imagine if the Alliance came now … it’d be a bloodbath.’

  I said nothing as the armourer rotated the racks to find our weapons, handing them over to us through the hatch. Then, as we made our way to the warren elevators, I lowered my voice to a whisper - ‘Are they coming?’

  He regarded me with caution, as if deciding how much information to give me.

  ‘Who knows,’ he said, guardedly. ‘Maybe.’

  ‘So why are all the drop troops still here?’

  He jabbed a finger toward the surface. ‘So that the rich bellends up there can feel safe.’

  We stepped into one of the warren elevators, and the sergeant major tapped a button telling it to take us to the surface. The doors slid shut, and we then stood in silence as the elevator accelerated.

  I caught a glimpse of the Recce 2ic’s face in a reflection on the lift door. Over the years it seemed to have hardened into a near permanent scowl. He seemed virtually incapable of smiling, and even that was little more than a twitch at the corner of his mouth.

  “The sergeant major hates everyone”, Puppy, my section second in command had once told me. I had no doubt that it was true. Beneath his scowl was pure bitterness, as though the entire world made him angry. I found myself wondering what hardships he had endured to end up that way, and then I wondered if I might one day end up the same … if I wasn’t the same already.

  ‘I’m taking you straight to Paraiso shuttle port,’ he explained, breaking the silence. ‘We have some new arrivals to collect. Then we’re on our way out to Helsinki Forward Operating Base.’

  I raised an eyebrow. I hadn’t been aware of any fresh Recce troopers coming to our battalion. The course that qualified us from regular drop troopers was relatively frequent, but it was conducted centrally on the planet Uralis, light years away from Eden. We couldn’t simply replace our casualties with only a few days’ notice.

  ‘How many new arrivals?’ I asked, curiously.

  ‘Three.’

  ‘Where did we get them from?’

  ‘They’re from the 6th Battalion,’ the sergeant major replied, gruffly, as if he was bitter at the thought of having to borrow troopers from the Welsh. ‘Their Recce platoon is slightly over-manned. If they hadn’t been able to provide the extra troopers, then I’d be forced to pull our replacements out of the regular companies. Our battalion won’t be receiving fresh blood from Uralis for another month or so, and I doubt the other brigades across the planet would be willing to spare extra men.’

  I nodded, understanding the predicament, as well as our luck in finding replacements for our casualties. There were only two dropship battalions in our brigade, ours and the 6th Battalion Welsh Dropship Infantry. That wasn’t a large pool from which to draw Recce-trained troopers. There was nothing wrong with regular dropship troopers, of course, but their level of training was not as high as ours. We wouldn’t have been so desperate for replacements unless there was something being planned, something big.

  ‘I presume we’re going back into the Bosque, then?’ I asked, pressing for as much information as I could.

  ‘It looks that way,’ the sergeant major answered abruptly.

  I carried on digging. ‘And I take it this has something to do with the Alliance fleet sitting on the edge of the system?’

  ‘Who said they’re sat on the edge?’

  I frowned. ‘They’re closer?’

  The sergeant major regarded me sternly. ‘Let’s worry about getting to Helsinki first, shall we?’

  The three troopers sent from the 6th Battalion were waiting for us at the spaceport terminal, tucked away amongst a crowd of other troopers, conscripts and civilians also destined for Helsinki. They sat amongst their piled equipment, playing some kind of holographic game that I had never seen before. Behind them, through the glass wall of the terminal building, the sprawling spaceport glittered against the darkening evening sky.

  Noticing us negotiating our way toward them, one of the troopers quickly deactivated the hologram, alerting his comrades of our approach.

  ‘Alright, sir?’ One of the troopers acknowledged the sergeant major without getting to his feet.

  Normally a senior NCO might be insulted, but the sergeant major didn’t appear bothered. We weren’t in the business of getting noticed, and I presumed that he had already met the troopers, having clearly spent the last few days regenerating manpower for the platoon.

  ‘Privates Griffiths, Lloyd and Sanneh.’ The sergeant major introduced the Welsh troopers to me with a quick sweep of his hand. ‘Our replacements.’

  I nodded at them respectfully. Though they were indeed replacements, they were far from CROW - the nickname by which fresh recruits were known in the regular rifle platoons - they were experienced troopers, in their early twenties at least, and each one of them would undoubtedly have seen action out in the Bosque. Just like we had been - 6th Battalion’s Recce Platoon was heavily engaged out in the disputed forest region. Although I had never worked with them, I often heard them mentioned during briefings. No matter how experienced the Welsh troopers were, though, it was never nice to fill a dead or injured man’s shoes, and I wondered if they were happy with being sent to us.

  ‘Obviously I’m not going to brief you all up in the middle of a shuttle port terminal,’ the Sergeant Major said to us all. ‘You’re all on the shuttle manifest, so all you need to do is ensure that you load up as normal, and then wait for me on the opposite side. I don’t know if any of you have been to Helsinki before, but it’s fast becoming a major logistical hub providing supplies across the border to Edo. Don’t wander off, or you’ll get lost. Understand?’

  We nodded.

  ‘Good.’

  The sergeant major promptly turned and walked off, presumably to find somebody better to talk to. I sensed that he didn’t enjoy being in our presence.

  ‘What’s he like?�
�� Griffiths, a butch-looking trooper with a square jaw asked, flicking his head toward the sergeant major.

  I shrugged. ‘He’s alright - as long as you don’t piss him off.’

  My eyes flicked over the assortment of passengers waiting with us for the shuttle to Helsinki. There were tens of troopers and jacks amongst them, all wearing the insignia of my battalion. I remembered that not all of the English battalion were based in Paraiso City - in fact several of the battalions that formed the brigade were spread across the province, moving location regularly to keep any spies guessing. No doubt the troopers waiting for the shuttle were part of a dropship company based close to the border, or perhaps they were part of a fresh company sent to relieve the other. Being kept on permanent high readiness could soon wear a man down, no matter how pleasant his surroundings were.

  ‘Where is your battalion based now, then?’ I asked Griffiths, curiously.

  I hadn’t heard anything from the Welsh in months. Like the English battalion, they were almost certainly sitting idle somewhere whilst their recce platoon fought the secret campaign out in the Bosque … but unlike the English, they were nowhere to be seen.

  ‘We don’t hear much from them.’ He replied. ‘They moved to the far northern end of the province a month or so ago, along with a battalion of gravtanks and a few other units. They move about a lot. Brigade likes to keep them hidden.’

  Two battalions, one of dropships, and one of gravtanks was a significant force when you considered that our brigade was only composed of six battalions. Compared to the brigades of conscripts that held vast swathes of Paraiso, we were small in numbers, the emphasis being placed upon quality rather than quantity. The two battalions wouldn’t have been moved so far to the north on a whim. It would have been part of a strategic decision made by brigade, and possibly by EJOC itself.

  ‘Just in case the Loyalists lose all sense and attack us as well,’ I presumed, aloud.

  ‘Yeah, I guess so,’ Griffiths nodded. ‘Either that, or in case the Alliance decides to land there …’

  ‘We wouldn’t have known the Alliance was coming back then.’

  ‘Of course we did,’ the Welsh trooper replied, with a harsh laugh. ‘It was fucking inevitable, wasn’t it? The Loyalists gave the Alliance just what they wanted: an excuse to come and take their province back. The crazy bastards wanted another war, and now they’ve got it.’

  The conversation ended abruptly, cut short by the bitterness in the Welshman’s tone. Instead we all stared out of the glass windows of the terminal, watching as a bulky, unattractive military shuttle slowly taxied toward us.

  Whilst we waited for the shuttle to arrive, I thought about the stark contrast between our two battalions and how they were operating. It made sense to keep one of the dropship battalions to the north of the province. If an attacking force were to strike at Paraiso - and they almost certainly would - then the Union would want to keep at least some of its fighting power away from the provincial capital so that they were free to strike back. After all, dropship infantry weren’t meant for defence, we were meant to be mobile. It also made sense to hide one of the battalions. The overt presence of the English at Paraiso City reminded the Alliance spies that the brigade, though thinly spread, still packed a punch, but the hidden units kept them guessing. As we in Recce knew all too well, knowing your enemy gave you the edge over him. If the Alliance knew where all of our forces were based, then the effect of his first strike would be devastating.

  Was the Alliance really going to do it? I wondered to myself. Surely they know any attack against the Union and its Russian allies would weaken us all in the face of a far more dangerous opponent? The last war had weakened us to the point that China, watching from a distance, had seen the opportunity to seize control of New Earth whilst our backs were turned. What would they do this time?

  I looked down briefly at Griffiths. Like his comrades, the butch trooper glared out of the window, angry at the world around him. Everyone I had spoken to was bitter about the unfolding situation, convinced that the planet was doomed to yet another needless war. I didn’t disagree with them. I hated the world which we had all created for ourselves. I hated Eden, the beautiful planet that had been transformed into a paradise, only to be transformed back into a world more hellish than the barren surface of New Earth.

  Now, though, when I thought of the vast expanse of terraformed forest that was the centre of so much bloodshed, it wasn’t the Union, or the Alliance that I thought of. Neither did I think of the two rogue provinces fighting over the Bosque, killing for the sake of it. All I thought of was the civilians I had seen fleeing desperately for their lives, and the piles of cold, naked bodies, left to decay out in the rain. I thought of the brave young FEA soldiers who had fought beside me against their gang masters - the ruthless Presidential Guard - to protect their people. I thought of Yulia, her fearless, inspirational leadership and self-sacrifice, and then I thought of my comrades, preparing themselves to return out into the Bosque once again.

  The last time I had been in the Bosque, I had wanted nothing other than to die, to end the suffering of my tormented soul. Now, though, I didn’t want to die. It wasn’t that I had suddenly become afraid of death - far from it - but I had seen enough needless waste of human life. I had a job to do: to fight alongside my comrades, and where possible, to defend the innocent people living out in the forest.

  I was angry, and I was ready to kill.

  2

  Helsinki

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  A ride in a shuttle is nothing like that of a dropship. Larger, slower, and comparatively low-tech, they were designed to shift large quantities of kit and personnel either across the planet or up into orbit. They weren’t combat aircraft, had no armour, and very little in the way of manoeuvrability.

  We sat in rows within the cargo hold, packed like sardines in a can, all strapped tightly into metal seats that had been bolted to the floor. All the internal lighting was extinguished to leave us in near-total darkness, and we were all ordered to wear our helmets and respirators - despite the air being breathable within the shuttle. It served as a reminder to us that we were in a warzone, at risk the second we left the safety of the city. There was virtually nowhere on the continent where flight was completely safe, even in a military aircraft. A single volley of smart missiles could easily overwhelm the shuttle’s defences, and it only took one of those missiles to blow us out of the sky.

  I was one of the fortunate few to be able to catch a glimpse out of one of the few portholes inside the hold - a tiny circular window in the centre of an emergency escape hatch. The shuttle offered an impressive view of the glowing city domes as it banked after take-off, weaving between towering skyscrapers as it made its way toward Helsinki. Troopers, jacks and conscripts alike sat in silence as the last flickers of light danced across the hold, willing for the shuttle to survive its journey, and contemplating their chances of survival if it didn’t.

  The flight to Helsinki took almost an hour - which was a long time considering that a dropship could do the same distance in less than fifteen minutes. I spent most of the flight sleeping, like my comrades sat either side of me, taking advantage of the opportunity whilst I had it. I had no idea what would happen when I touched down. Theoretically I could be deploying within hours.

  I finally woke to the sound of the shuttle landing gear descending, and the weightless sensation caused by the aircraft rapidly falling out of the sky. Being so close to the border, shuttles operating around the forward operating bases were at risk to being shot at by opportunists - from Loyalists to disgruntled FEA soldiers, to civilians playing with discarded weapons. The longer we were in the air, the greater the risk, so the shuttles were programmed to get into the air - and back down again - as rapidly as possible.

  There was a murmur of concern amongst the conscripts and civilians as the shuttle continued to fall, but the troopers and jacks were indifferent to it. We worked in dropships after all, so we had
all experienced a lot worse.

  The shuttle touched down onto a darkened landing pad, marked only by dim green lights. Then, after a short pause, machinery wined loudly and the heavy rear ramp of the shuttle fell away to reveal the FOB beyond. Instead of seeing a large, spacious base, though, all I saw was a wall of supply containers, stacked tens of metres high along the edge of the pad.

  Several young-looking conscripts wearing luminescent jackets stepped onto the ramp. One of them started shouting in Italian, and I waited for my headset to translate his words - ‘Ladies and gentlemen, may I have your attention. Welcome to FOB Helsinki. You will soon be led away from the aircraft and processed. I would ask that you remain together at all times. Are there any questions?’

  There were none.

  Shortly afterward we filed out of the shuttle under the direction of the conscripts. As I followed the line of passengers across the pad, I looked around at the FOB in amazement. I had never seen this side of our military intervention into the Edo-Europa conflict, having spent all of my time on the frontline. It often seemed as though we provided only a token effort, but now I could see first-hand the sheer scale of our involvement. Helsinki Forward Operating Base had originally been established to house one of the tens of conscript battalions that were permanently based along the border between Paraiso and Edo, but now it had become a staging post for the logistical supply chain that the Union had provided to support Edo during their struggle against the Loyalists. It had been expanded, and within its new walls were parked perhaps a hundred LSV’s. As I watched, endless crates and pallets of food, ammunition and equipment were offloaded from another shuttle by forklift, and stacked in huge piles ready to be broken down into the convoys of robotic vehicles that would ferry it the last leg into the forest.

  ‘Mad, isn’t it?’ Griffiths said, as we marched across the shuttle pad. ‘We were fighting Edo last year, now we’re giving them all our kit!’

  The Welsh trooper was right - it was mad. Edo, once a province governed by the Alliance, had refused to accept Union rule. It had mounted a long guerrilla campaign against the pro-Union province of Paraiso ever since the war, and it had often called for the Alliance to return to recapture its lost territories. Despite this, we were helping Edo to repel the Loyalist invaders to the north, sending them tonnes of supplies daily. We were fools to arm the Free Edo Army and the brutal Presidential Guard, in the mistaken belief that the Alliance would be appeased by our act of charity, and yet we were still doing it, even when the Alliance fleet loomed ever closer.