RECCE II (The Union Series Book 5) (13 page)

Myers didn’t explode into action, instead the young
trooper slowly glided through the water as he covered the final metre without breaking
his aim. I followed him, standing so close that my soaking wet combats pressed
against his. We had no idea what threat we were facing outside the pipeline, so
the more weapons we could bring to bear the better.

Once we reached the edge of the hole, Myers leant
out of the shadows first, careful not to let the fast-flowing water send him
tumbling down onto the forest floor. Moving just behind him, I caught my first
proper glimpse of the forest since having returned into the warren. The clouds
above had obviously broken, because shafts of sunlight broke through the
magnificent green canopy, illuminating the undergrowth like spotlights on a
stage. Only a trooper who had fought underground could truly appreciate a view
like that, despite knowing that it was about to be the backdrop to more
bloodshed.

The pair of us took one more step, until Myers was stood
right inside the opening, and without warning he opened fire at something to
his left.

‘Contact!’ he screamed.

I followed him out, and suddenly my visor display
sprang to life, flashing red as it identified multiple targets amongst the
thick undergrowth. No more than ten metres from the pipeline was a group of
Militiamen, crowded together as though they were receiving a brief. They might
have been guarding the pipeline, but they certainly weren’t expecting us, and
though I couldn’t catch their expressions through the glare in their visors,
the look of total surprise was evident.

Myers’ darts had struck one of the Militiamen
closest to us, sending him sprawling backward amongst his comrades, but there
were loads of them, and only two of us.

As the militiamen scrambled to return fire, it took
less than a second to decide that there were no Union troopers amongst them. Rather
than fire my rifle, I outstretched my finger like a gun, marking them with a
blue crosshair, then snatched Myers back into cover. The pair of us fell
backward into the water, narrowly avoiding a barrage of rounds that hammered
against the pipeline.

‘Jesus!’ somebody exclaimed as we crashed into the
water. Hands gripped us both, preventing the current from carrying us back into
view.

I made no effort to stand, ignoring the cold water
rushing over my body as I activated my net. 'Hammersmith-Zero-Alpha, fire on my
mark!'

B Company’s OC must have been listening to our net
intently. No sooner had I finished the sentence when there was a deafening roar
outside the pipeline, as his dropships opened fire with their Vulcan cannon.
Although the source of the noise was outside the pipeline, it reverberated along
its length as if we were packed into the throat of a roaring beast.

Spurred by the thunderous sound of the dropship
barrage, and aided by my comrades behind me, I scrambled to my feet, driving
Myers forward. ‘Go, go, go!’ I shouted against the noise.

The two of us returned to the hole in a single
bound, to find that the picturesque forest scene beyond was gone. It had been
replaced by one of devastation as the Vulcan continued to hack at the earth
where the Militia had once stood.

A Vulcan cannon was a defensive weapon, designed to
engage and destroy incoming missiles with an impenetrable wall of darts, but it
was devastating when employed against dismounted personnel. The entire pipeline
shook beneath my feet with the sheer force of a thousand rounds beating at the
earth beside it, taking huge chunks out of trees and causing wet soil and sawdust
to fly through the air like confetti. Without my headset the terrifying sound would
easily have ruptured my eardrums.

Ignoring the onslaught occurring just metres away, Myers
braced a boot against the lip of the hole and took another shot at something
within the churning undergrowth.

I saw nothing on my visor display to engage - not
that I think I would have thought to fire anyway - instead I watched the mayhem
occurring only metres in front of me, stupefied by the force of the Vulcan.
Despite being an area-effect weapon, the dropship cannon was surprisingly
accurate, creating a circular “beating zone” about five metres across. I could
see the beating zone drifting around the forest floor as the gunner, somewhere
high above, made sure he hadn’t left anyone behind. Then, as suddenly as it had
started, the firing stopped, leaving the last few pieces of earth and wood to
fall back to the ground.

I quickly peered over the edge of the hole, trusting
Myers to cover me whilst I checked to see what the ground was like below. The
cascading water had flooded the forest floor, running away in a newly formed
river that snaked away in search of low ground. The surface of the water was no
more than half a metre below me, though, and so I jumped through the hole. I
crashed into the water, stumbling slightly as I failed to find a stable footing
and narrowly avoiding falling over.

Myers landed with a splash beside me, and the pair
of us waded away from the pipe, the rest of my section spilling out through the
hole behind us.

‘Push out!’ I ordered, gesturing for Myers to move
away from me. We needed to spread out as quickly as possible, to avoid
presenting a juicy target to anyone nearby.

As I advanced I quickly held my arms out either side
of me, ordering my section to fan out into extended line, then quickly took aim
again, scanning the area where the Militia had stood.

Nobody had survived the Vulcan cannon. The
Militiamen had been torn to pieces - literally. All that remained of them was a
gory mess, pulped and spread across the forest floor.

‘Fucking hell, Andy!’ Myers exclaimed, forgetting
himself. He pointed off to his right.

For a moment I thought that Myers had simply seen
something that disgusted him, until I followed his outstretched arm and saw
what had caused his alarm. My jaw fell open. Ten or so metres in front of us
lay a pile of three surface-to-orbit missiles, wrapped in clear plastic
packaging and stacked neatly on the ground just outside the edge of the Vulcan’s
beating zone.

‘Shit . . .’ I breathed.

There they were. At long last, we had set eyes upon
the true reason why everybody was so interested in the warren beneath Hill
Kilo. The STORM missiles weren’t particularly interesting to look at. On the
outside they just looked like oversized smart missiles, twice the length of a
man and no wider than my upper thigh, but they had the ability to strike at
anything in orbit. If they had been any closer, then our friends in the sky
might have set them off. I was no weapons expert, but I guessed that would be bad.

Once we had cleared a short distance beyond the gory
mess that remained of the Militiamen, I stopped and knelt amongst the
undergrowth.

‘Go firm,’ I ordered over the section net.

There was no longer any need for us to avoid
transmitting, and I took some comfort in the information that had returned to
my visor display since having reactivated my net. I could now see where all of
my men were, even without direct line of sight onto them. My section was now
formed into an extended line facing eastward, with no eyes onto any further
enemy.

I flicked over to the platoon net. ‘Position clear,’
I announced. ‘Multiple enemy dead. No sign of further activity. We’ve found
some of the missiles as well.’

‘Roger.’ The sergeant major’s disembodied voice came
in reply. ‘Push on for another two hundred metres and provide security whilst
the platoon shakes out.’

My section swept onward as one, spreading our line further
so that there was a ten-metre gap between every man. With our net activated and
our newfound freedom to manoeuvre, we had suddenly gained the confidence to move
away from one another, a confidence that filled me with fresh resolve. In the
warren we were unsure of our surroundings, with everything, including time,
working against us. Now we were in our element, with fire support from our own
private fleet of dropships. Catching up with Bhasin had become a real
possibility.

‘All call signs,’ the sergeant major said over the
net, ‘we’ve identified a trail leading away from the missiles left outside the
pipeline. It looks like they were unloaded and stacked ready to be carried away
by work party. My guess is that the Militia are now working hand in hand with
Bhasin’s lot, and these men were protecting the remaining missiles whilst they
waited for more manpower.’

So,
I thought, my
confidence suddenly waning,
we’re no longer chasing Bhasin and his men, but
a group of Militiamen of unknown size
.

Our chase had become more dangerous now that the
force we were pursuing was larger, with more resources at its disposal. The
unlikely partnership between the two parties did give us a small advantage,
though, in that they were now larger and easier to track.

A blue line suddenly materialised on my visor
display, cutting through the trees to my right.

‘The line you now see leads south-east in the rough
direction of the trail,’ the sergeant major explained. ‘We will advance to
contact using the trail as our axis. Two Section will follow the trail, with
the remaining sections bringing up the rear in one-up formation. All call signs
acknowledge.’

One by one all of the commanders answered up with
their call signs, including me, confirming that we understood the plan and the
formation to be used.

An advance to contact was exactly as it sounded - an
operation where a formed unit would advance aggressively until it met again
with the enemy. As in our situation, the enemy dispositions were often unknown,
and our foe were typically either in the process of withdrawing or in defence. One-up
was a standard platoon formation used for an advance to contact where the enemy
threat was perceived to be to the front, but the platoon commander didn’t want
to commit too many troops if he was to come under contact. It simply meant that
one section would lead, whilst the other two kept to the rear left and right
respectively, creating an elongated triangular shape. It gave us good
protection to the flanks, which were particularly vulnerable since we were on
our own in a dense woodland environment.

‘One-Zero-Bravo has prepared an explosive charge to destroy
the three missiles,’ the sergeant major continued, ‘so expect a detonation
shortly after we’re clear of the pipeline. One-Two, move off when ready.’

Corporal Kamara responded instantly. ‘One-Two,
moving now.’

I waited anxiously whilst the green crosshairs
marking the troopers of Two Section followed the blue line, eager to join in
with the pursuit. Now that we were out of the tunnels all I wanted to do was
sprint after Bhasin and his Militia friends, but I understood the need to
exercise caution. I kept my mind focused by watching and listening out into the
forest ahead of me, expecting a counterattack at any moment. Our enemy knew we
were chasing them now, and that we were hot on their heels. The question was
whether or not they were willing to take us on after such of brutal display of
the firepower at our disposal. The dropships waiting above made us far more
dangerous than anyone else on the battlefield, but we couldn’t unleash our full
fury until we confirmed the target.

Once I saw Two Section had advanced two hundred metres
along the blue line, I ordered my men to step off in single file, taking our
place at the lower left corner of the triangle with Three Section patrolling
parallel to us a few hundred metres to our right. Between our two sections, two
single crosshairs marked Corporal Abdi and his runner, keeping back to manage
the rear of the formation so that the sergeant major didn’t need to worry about
what was happening behind him.

Our pace was hard, fast enough for me to break into
a sweat as I battled through the thick wall of plant life, stepping over roots
and stones. The tiny motors in my respirator whirred as they fought to keep my
visor clear, blasting cool air against my cheeks.

Abs transmitted over the platoon net as we went. ‘All
call signs, this is One-Zero-Bravo, be aware . . . controlled detonation in ten
seconds.’

‘Controlled detonation.’ I parroted the warning onto
my section net so that every trooper knew what to expect. Only Puppy and I were
privy to the higher platoon net, in order to minimise cluttered transmissions.

Sure enough, after ten seconds there was an almighty
explosion as Abs detonated his charge, destroying the three missiles that had
been left outside the pipeline. The blast sent a shockwave that caused the earth
to shift, swaying the trees around me, but I didn’t stop or turn to look.

Grim determination spread across my hardened
features, as I took some satisfaction knowing that we had destroyed three of
the missiles. I knew that there were more, but at least we had made a dent in
our shady adversary’s anti-orbital arsenal. It was a step toward mission
success, giving us a tiny piece of justification for the terrible losses our
platoon had endured. Nothing could bring back the friends we had already lost,
but if we could stop the missiles being smuggled into Europa then it wouldn’t
have been in vain. We would follow Bhasin’s men for as long as it took, I
decided, harassing and killing them until there was nothing left. Perhaps we
would find Mr Barkley and our missing comrades, or perhaps we wouldn’t, but we
would have our vengeance.