RECCE (The Union Series Book 4) Read online

  Having finished his inspection of the entrances, the sergeant major walked into the centre of the platoon, stooping over the projector to ensure that it was working correctly.

  Satisfied, he stood once more, saying, ‘Commanders, confirm you are all present. One Section?’

  ‘All here,’ I answered. My section was now back up to full strength, with eight troopers, including Griffiths.

  ‘Two?’

  Corporal Abdi, section commander for Two Section, lifted his head, and said, ‘All here.’

  I waited whilst the other commanders answered up in turn. Corporal Stanton commanded Three Section, and Corporal Kamara commanded Four. I was the only commander amongst them who still didn’t wear the rank of full corporal, despite being qualified. I was still seen as being too young and inexperienced - an assessment which I disagreed with. I wasn’t going to argue, though, I was fortunate to still be in the dropship infantry, let alone still holding my present rank of lance corporal.

  The sergeant major then quickly counted the members of platoon headquarters - an assortment of signallers and electronic warfare operators who also formed his and the platoon commander’s protection groups. We were a large platoon, far larger than any regular dropship infantry platoon, with an additional fourth section, as well as a large headquarter group. We needed the extra men to allow us the flexibility we needed to complete particularly complex missions - often on our own.

  ‘That’s the platoon complete, boss,’ the sergeant major reported finally. He strode away from the projector, finding somewhere to stand to a flank where he could watch us all, willing for someone to mess around so that he could make an example of them.

  Mr Barkley walked up to the projector.

  ‘Thank you, Sergeant Major,’ he said.

  He slowly scanned the platoon, confirming that all of the sections were sat together and where he expected them to be. It was important that we followed a rigid seating plan during orders, so that everyone knew exactly who was doing what, and so that any newcomers could clearly identify the platoon structure.

  As he scanned across his platoon, Mr Barkley’s eyes met mine, hanging upon me for just a moment. His face remained an expressionless mask. It was as though he wanted to say something, to tell me what he thought of me and my actions, but knew that he couldn’t. My jaw tightened. He was pissed off.

  The platoon commander looked down at his datapad. He tapped against the screen and the holographic projector sprang to life, creating a large map of the Bosque that hovered at ankle height.

  He cleared his throat before he began - ‘Listen in to a set of orders for a platoon recce and deliberate attack …’

  We listened as he began to cover the preliminary part of his orders. There were a number of things he needed to explain before his orders began properly, basic yet valuable information that set the scene for our operation, including the weather prediction for the next few days, and a description of the ground around our target area. As he spoke, he zoomed the hologram into the north-western area of the Bosque, giving us the opportunity to study the terrain we would be covering for the first time. It wasn’t entirely dissimilar to the terrain we had worked in before, except that the ground was rolling and hilly throughout. The target area was now clearly visible - a large hill almost a kilometre across that dominated the landscape, with a village nestled at its foot. The hill and the area surrounding the village were deforested to make way for farmland, most likely to produce food locally for the villagers; the endless conflict in the Bosque had forced its inhabitants to become self-reliant, because nobody was going to help them if they ran out of food.

  ‘The area concerning us is where the project to introduce adapted plant life to Eden first originated,’ Mr Barkley explained, gesturing down at the holographic model. ‘The forest here is far denser than we are used to, making it difficult to move through and severely reducing visibility. Rain water collects within the low-lying areas between the hills to create marshland, and though these areas might be devoid of trees, they will still be overgrown with other plants, making them particularly hard going as well.

  ‘The area is sparsely intersected by roads, maglev rails and disused chemical pipelines. The enemy will no doubt be using whatever infrastructure remains to facilitate his withdrawal, and these areas are likely to be defended to prevent the FEA using them.’

  I could clearly see what the platoon commander was getting at before our actual orders had even begun. Our insertion would be a difficult one. Wherever we chose to drop into the region, we would have no choice but to cut our own route through the forest - an act that would be as physically demanding as the attack itself. It was a necessary hardship, however, if we were to make our way to the target area without being detected.

  ‘Situation enemy,’ he continued. ‘The Loyalist military junta controlling Europa have ordered a full-scale retreat from the occupied territories in the Bosque. They are aware of the arrival of the Alliance fleet, and feel threatened by the support that Edo is now receiving from us. Intelligence sources from within the northern province suggest that the Loyalists are closing in their forces in anticipation of an invasion or bombardment from orbit –’

  ‘Is that likely?’ I asked, raising an eyebrow.

  Mr Barkley eyed me for a moment, annoyed by the interruption, and then shrugged, saying, ‘I wouldn’t want to speculate, but it’s a possibility. The Alliance fleet are currently poised around Hades, so they’re less than a few hours away.’

  There was a nervous stirring across the audience. We had all known that the fleet was close, but this was the first time we had learned how close it really was. Hades, a cold, rocky planet on the outer edge of the system, was supposedly garrisoned by tens of thousands of Alliance soldiers, all waiting to return to Eden. The Alliance fleet had probably stopped there to collect them, in an act that was intended to be threatening … were they going to do it? Or were they just bluffing? There was no way of knowing, and it seemed that EJOC weren’t going to pass their assessment of the situation down to us.

  Mr Barkley flicked his head upward, and said, ‘Whatever’s happening up there, it clearly has the Loyalists frightened. They’re retreating back to their province despite very little pressure from the FEA or the Guard since the fall of Dakar. Their withdrawal has been hasty and poorly organised, causing many units to be left behind. Those left behind are mainly the Militia, a far larger component of the Loyalist military with a lower level of training, similar to our conscripts and Edo’s FEA. They have been ordered to spread across the forest in small, loosely organised units, equipped with smart missiles and other light support weapons, tasked to harass any possible advance whilst the rest of their army make their escape. In other words - they’ve been made to stay back and take one for the team.’

  Mr Barkley zoomed the hologram onto the village and the hill that loomed over it. Seeing the hill up close on the model, I instantly recognised its strategic significance, with dominating views over all of the forest for tens of kilometres in every direction.

  ‘The village you see here is known as Cellini,’ he said. ‘It is one of the oldest villages in the Bosque, built during the beginning of the terraforming project, and it is of particular cultural and political significance for that reason. The hill beside it, which shall be known as Hill Kilo, is home to a warren system originally built by the Alliance. It was then occupied by the FEA after the Alliance left the planet, and now it is controlled by the Loyalists.

  ‘Contained somewhere within this warren is a large stockpile of weapons and ammunition, enough to arm an entire brigade. The Loyalists are holding onto the hill whilst they attempt to extract the weapons northwards, using wheel-based vehicles and civilians pressed into work by the Militia.

  ‘In the chaos of their hasty withdrawal, however, the Loyalists have overlooked this key position. Due to its proximity to the border, and being thirty kilometres behind the frontline, they have wrongly assumed that it is secure, leaving it poorl
y defended. It is believed that there is only a single company of Loyalists dug into the hill, whilst a battalion of Militia control Cellini and its population, under the command of a particularly ruthless man known as Colonel Helstrom.’

  The platoon commander went on to describe in detail the strengths and locations of the Loyalist positions, as well as the likely layout of their defences and sensory equipment. They were poorly equipped - the vast majority of their resources being drawn back into Europa - but there were almost a thousand of them. Fortunately for us, an attack was considered unlikely by the Loyalists, and an approach on foot even less so. This was all speculation, of course, we wouldn’t know for certain what we were up against until we reached the target area.

  ‘They have been in this location for some time,’ he said, ‘and their defences are expected to be extensive, though relatively low-tech. The importance of the weapons stockpile indicates that they will attempt to hold onto the hill initially, but should their defences break, then they will withdraw, using Helstrom’s Militia to slow any attempt at pursuit. Are there any questions on the enemy?’

  There were no questions, so the platoon commander posed a few of his own at random troopers within the audience, confirming that we had all been listening.

  Whilst he grilled the platoon, I looked down at the red icons on the hologram. I knew that each one of them represented a position potentially occupied by tens of enemy fighters. Perhaps the area was poorly defended, but it was hardly an easy target. Edo had suddenly switched from sitting around doing nothing, to striking at a large position right beside the border - a change in strategy that clearly had something to do with the arrival of the Alliance fleet.

  Mr Barkley went on to describe the “friendly” situation. The change in strategy had indeed been initiated by the Guard, rather than by EJOC’s efforts to persuade the FEA to go it alone. They had decided to seize Hill Kilo, along with Cellini, with the intention of holding onto them until the rest of their army caught up. They had invested an entire battalion of Guardsmen to the operation, along with a further two battalions of FEA soldiers, all mounted in dropships to enable a rapid assault. The small brigade came under the control of a Guard-only headquarters, an arrangement that showed that the attack was planned by them.

  The Guard attack was directed primarily onto Hill Kilo, with Cellini village being a secondary objective. The hill was assessed to be “vital ground” - terrain which had to be taken in order for the mission to be successful. If the village was attacked first, then the hapless attackers would be cut to ribbons by defenders on the high ground. Also, the main part of the warren was dug under Hill Kilo, making it even more important that it was seized first.

  The Guard battalion would drop at the foot of the hill, moving to seize the high ground straight away. Then the two regular FEA battalions would follow shortly afterward, one attacking the village whilst the other drove into the warren.

  The platoon listened uneasily whilst Mr Barkley described the Guard plan. We were all wary of taking part in an operation that might ultimately do the Union more harm than good. The unease quickly deepened into concern when he finally came to outline the mission that we had been handed down to us by the Guard … a mission that the platoon commander had accepted with EJOC’s blessing.

  ‘Mission: find, mark, fix and destroy. The platoon’s mission is to find enemy dispositions in the vicinity of Hill Kilo and Cellini village, mark landing sites and forming-up points, fix the enemy in position by use of directed aerial assets, and destroy enemy positions on Hill Kilo in order to set the conditions for the successful capture of Cellini village and the warren beneath it.’

  We listened as the platoon commander repeated the mission again, as was standard procedure during any orders. Being the most important paragraph in a set of orders, the mission was the overarching statement which tied everything else together. If you understood the mission, everything else fell into place, and I knew from Mr Barkley’s short paragraph that our mission would be tough, as well as controversial. “Find”, “mark” and “fix” were all mission verbs that we were used to hearing, all of which fell well within our role as recce platoon. It was the word “destroy” that bothered us. Hill Kilo was no small target, so destroying any of the positions dug into it would require for us to work together as a single unit, carrying out a traditional platoon attack. We were more than capable of doing it, but not so happy when it was the Guard that were calling the shots and watching our backs.

  As he went on to describe the execution of the mission, it quickly became apparent that we were going far beyond supporting the Guard plan - we were playing a pivotal role within it. That evening we would insert by saucer into an area twenty kilometres to the south of our objective, before making our way up to conduct our recce the following night. Using the information we gathered, we would then mark the drop zones for the main attacking force, before forming up into an attack formation at the foot of Hill Kilo. On H-Hour, we would direct all of the support assets available to fire onto targets we had selected during our recce. Then, whilst the Loyalists reeled under the surprise bombardment, our platoon would assault onto the hill, punching through their defences and securing a foothold. Meanwhile, the first Guard companies would land behind us, echeloning through our secured foothold to clear the remainder of the hill.

  ‘The key here,’ Mr Barkley said, ‘is that the echeloning units must be right on our tails, and therefore keeping to the correct timings will be a crucial to the success of this operation.’

  The platoon commander was right - if the Guard were late by even a few minutes, or we assaulted too early, our platoon would quickly become bogged down by the superior numbers of the Loyalists on the hill - the battle needed to be handed over quickly, so that forward momentum was maintained.

  ‘Once the objective has been secured, we will then remain in place, continuing to observe as well as provide assistance in holding the position, until the remainder of Edo’s forces catch up.

  ‘There are some significant changes to our offensive support assets which you will need to be aware of. Firstly - and most notably - there is the absence of our good friend Thunder God. Unfortunately our railgun artillery do not have the range to strike anywhere near as far north as our objective without being moved, and therefore the decision has been made to extract them back to Paraiso rather than risk moving them forward. In their place, however, the FEA are now equipped with their own artillery assets, provided courtesy of the Union.’

  Several members of the platoon shifted nervously, and a murmur spread across the room.

  ‘That should be interesting,’ Puppy whispered to me.

  I nodded. The operation was getting more and more risky. Not only were we relying on the Guard to come to our aid once our attack started, but a large part of our offensive support was being provided by the FEA, who were in turn controlled by the Guard anyway. The last artillery strike our platoon had called had been against Guard units, an “accident” that they could easily repeat - with us as the target.

  Mr Barkley held up a calming hand, saying, ‘What we do still have, however, are two saucers under our direct control. These saucers will take off thirty minutes prior to H-Hour, and will remain with us throughout. In addition, we will have top-cover in the form of an orbital weapons platform in geosynchronous orbit, as well as the heavy cruiser ENS Richelieu. It would take quite something for those assets to start dropping bombs, given that clearance to fire from orbit now requires clearance from EJOC, rather than from brigade, but at the very least we know that we have eyes looking down from above. Has anyone got any questions about the situation, or the mission?’

  There was a stunned silence across the platoon. The threats implied by our mission had been laid bare, and they were plentiful. Of course, we were more than capable of conducting a regular platoon attack, if anything we were better than most regular rifle platoons because we were typically more experienced, we had four sections instead of three, and we carri
ed comparatively huge amounts of firepower, but once our mission started, our lives were truly in the Guards hands. We weren’t just counting on their co-operation, we were counting on their competence as well.

  The platoon orders went on for another two hours, as both Mr Barkley and Sergeant Major Davies went into great detail describing each phase of the operation, from the grids of our drop zones and the route to the objective, to how much water and rations we should bring.

  We really are at the Guard’s mercy, I thought whilst I listened. I hoped that they had accepted our apology for our “accidental” attack on their forces, and that Major Bhasin wasn’t involved in the operation. He must have known that it was us that had killed his son, it was pretty obvious, since he had sent Makito and a section of Guardsmen to follow my section and they had never returned. I had never heard of Bhasin since, though apparently he had commanded the Guardsmen at Dakar. Perhaps he had died in our artillery strike, I wondered, and even if he hadn’t, then he probably wouldn’t have the power to change the Guard’s tactics to quench his thirst for revenge. The Guard, cruel as they were, were a cloak and dagger unit that considered their every move carefully.

  I doubted the Guard would purposefully scupper our mission, with or without Bhasin’s insistence. Victory depended largely upon us, and the Union saucers under our control, but the threat of revenge remained, like a black cloud hanging over the platoon. If the Guard did decide to commit an act of vengeance against us, then it would be entirely down to my actions on the last operation. I didn’t regret doing what I did, especially not to Bhasin’s son, who would have killed us had I done nothing, but I still felt responsible for the awkward position the platoon was now placed in.

  I searched the eyes of the troopers sat around the hologram, wondering if they were angry at me. Perhaps they now wished that I had done nothing and let the Guard commit their atrocity unchallenged. After all, it wasn’t our war - we were only there to bring it to a swift conclusion. It was impossible to tell who anyone was angry at, though, for every trooper’s face was a gloomy mask.