RECCE II (The Union Series Book 5) (33 page)

The sergeant major was taking cover behind the
sangar base, looking intently in my direction. I waved my hand in a cutting
motion across my throat, indicating that the casualty was dead. He nodded, then
passed the message back to Abs inside the sangar.

The automated guns continued to hammer the western
wall, suggesting an alteration in the defender’s priorities. Unable to match
the terrifying power of the robotic guns, Corporal Kamara could only stand back
and watch.

‘I can’t defend that wall!’ he shouted in alarm,
pointing at the two holes that were now dreadfully exposed.

‘Fucking hell!’ Puppy exclaimed, having joined me at
the airlock. ‘We’re in trouble.’

‘No shit . . .’ I agreed grimly.

Like Puppy, I could already see the threat posed by
the loss of cover out to the west. Using the automated guns to keep us from
observing in that direction, the Militia could approach unopposed and then use
the same holes that we had created to gain access to the sangar compound.

‘All call signs, anticipate an assault from the west!’
the sergeant major warned. ‘One-Two, you are to maintain eyes out into the open
ground to the north. One-Zero-Bravo, you are to take One-Three back outside the
sangar compound to prevent the enemy hooking around the back. One-One, you are
to provide a block against any enemy attempting to break through the western
wall. The main effort is to prevent that breech. If the enemy get in, then its
game over. All call signs acknowledge.’

‘One-One,’ I answered.

‘One-Two.’

‘One-Three.’ Stan’s section was already running
toward the hole that they had entered through a few minutes before, along with
Abs.

I looked back into the outbuilding. ‘Let’s go,
lads!’

I quickly organised my section to form a stand-off
defence of the western wall, placing Myers in the outbuilding airlock,
Weatherall at the corner of the sangar base, and Leaman on the north-western
corner of the compound, facing back toward the two holes where Corporal
Kamara’s men had been. I couldn’t place my men right beside the holes themselves,
not just because of the sangar guns but also because an attacking force was
likely to throw a grenade through there.

‘We’re sitting ducks . . .’ Puppy sounded nervous as
the two of us surveyed our defences from the edge of the outbuilding. ‘The Militia
could already be against that wall.’

‘Get some fucking grenades over there, then!’
Corporal Kamara snapped impatiently, having heard us. With that, he lifted his
rifle and prepared his grenade launcher to fire.

I held out a hand. ‘Wait!’

Too late. Corporal Kamara fired a string of grenades
into the air, hoping that they would identify the approaching Militia. Less
than a second after the tiny guided missiles cleared the top of the wall they
detonated prematurely, causing us all to duck under a hail of shrapnel.

‘Fucking hell!’ I exclaimed as I struggled back to
my feet.

Corporal Kamara cursed himself, having realised his
error.

The automated guns had destroyed the grenades before
they even left the compound, effectively removing our ability to use indirect
weaponry against the Militia. Fortunately, none of us were injured, since the
grenades were far away enough not to be lethal against our gel armour and
helmets.

Corporal Kamara was right about one thing, though, grenades
were an effective way to deny the enemy the ability to form up on the other
side of the wall.

‘Leaman!’ I shouted.

The trooper looked from his position at the corner
of the compound, and I signalled
grenade
with a closed fist, and then
gestured with a swooping hand for him to throw it over the wall. Unlike our
rifle grenades, a hand-thrown grenade had no thermal signature and was far more
difficult to hit, even with the firepower of the automated guns.

Leaman nodded. He quickly prepared one of his HE
grenades, stood back from the wall and then threw it over.

‘Get grenades going over that wall every thirty
seconds or so!’ I ordered Puppy as the grenade detonated outside the compound. ‘That
might put them off!’

My 2ic nodded. ‘Roger!’

I turned toward the hole that led back out of the
compound, to where Three Section and Abs were setting up our flank protection.

‘Where are you going?’ Puppy asked.

‘To get our ladder!’

As I ducked through the mouse hole to recover the
ladder, Wildgoose spoke up over the net, simultaneously dropping a series of
blue crosshairs that marked a route for the Boskers to follow. ‘One-Zero, this
is One-Four. That’s the north-eastern gun destroyed. We’re now suppressing
enemy attempting to occupy the sangar compound. The new route to your location
is marked.’

‘One-Zero, roger,’ the sergeant major responded. ‘Poltergeist,
send them in!’

‘Poltergeist-One, message received. They’re on their
way!’

‘One-Four, this is One- Zero, do you think you can
get into position to engage the south-western sangar gun?’ the sergeant major
then asked.

‘One-Four . . .’ Wildgoose seemed to hesitate. ‘It
would be difficult . . .’

‘One-Zero, I understand it will be difficult, but we’re
being fixed in position by that gun. I need it destroyed, otherwise our defence
here will be near impossible.’

There was a pause of several seconds, whilst Wildgoose
thought of how to deal with the problem. I had no doubt that moving across such
a heavily contested battlefield without being spotted was far from easy, both
mentally and physically. Of course there was no question that he would drop
everything to help us. He might be busy engaging the Militia in the north-eastern
sangar, but it would all be a waste of time if his platoon was wiped out.

‘On route,’ the sniper said finally.

We were now in a battle against time. With the
north-eastern sangar locked into battle, and with us occupying the south-eastern
sangar compound, we had cut off the slave camp and provided a safe approach
route for the main Bosker force. Not only that, we allowed the original force involved
in the attack on the slave camp to complete their clearance and then join in
with the attack on Trondheim itself, increasing our numbers significantly. The
problem was that the Militia knew this. They knew that the only way to stop the
Boskers from breaking into the barracks was to recapture our sangar and turn it
into a firebase. In order to do so, they would continue to fix us in place with
the remaining automated guns, weapons which we had no current answer to. Even
our smart missiles wouldn’t get anywhere near either of the two guns before
they were shot out of the sky, since the element of surprise was lost. Wildgoose
might be on his way, but until then we were on our own with limited means to
defend ourselves.

I found the ladder lying beside the mouse hole,
thankfully intact. I presumed that somebody outside had been made aware of the
detonation and had moved it out of the way.

Troopers from Three Section were nearby, creeping
around the sangar wall to try to get into position to observe the open ground
to the north without becoming targets themselves. I assumed a similar number
were headed in the opposite direction.

Ignoring their part of the battle, I took up the
ladder and dragged it through the mouse hole. Once back inside the compound, I
carried it toward the western wall, finding Puppy stood near to Leaman with a
pile of grenades at his feet. As I approached, he tossed one over the wall and
it exploded moments later in a flash of light. So far our grenades appeared to
have held back the Militia, but I doubted our ploy would last long. Our
opponents would soon work out a way to get through.

My 2ic nodded at the ladder once I reached him.
‘What are you gonna do with that?’

‘Look over the top,’ I said.

His mouth fell open in surprise. ‘Are you
insane?
’

‘In case you hadn’t realised, we’re about to get
fucked up!’ I snapped. ‘I only need a second . . .’

‘I’ll do it, then!’ Puppy argued.

‘No!’ I replied abruptly, slamming down the legs and
then swinging the ladder up against the wall. ‘I need you to throw a grenade
over on my call. Leaman, hold the base.’

Leaman moved around the back of the ladder and
gripped the legs, steadying it for me to climb, whilst Puppy reluctantly prepared
another grenade.

I climbed the ladder, only hesitating once I reached
the top. I took a moment to consider how I was going to get the best view with
my rifle camera in the shortest time. The period between the automated gun
spotting my weapon, working out that it was a target and its rounds actually
reaching me was less than a second, so I needed to be lightning-fast.

I activated my rifle camera, then paused, knowing
that if I was too slow then the sangar gun would tear my arms right out from my
shoulders. The danger was real, but the risk was worthwhile. If we couldn’t see
our enemy, then we couldn’t react to them.

After several deep breaths, I looked down at Puppy.
‘Throw!’

Puppy tossed his grenade over the wall.

Using the detonation as cover, I lifted my rifle
above the wall, then snatched it back down instantly. No volley of darts
blasted my arms away, or passed overhead immediately after I pulled my rifle
back down. Perhaps I had been too quick for the guns to switch their fire, or
perhaps they had been momentarily thrown off by Puppy’s grenade, but I saw what
I needed to see. A platoon of Militia was running diagonally toward our
compound, avoiding the western wall where our grenades were falling and heading
straight for the holes through which Corporal Kamara’s men were firing . . . they
were less than ten metres away.

‘Two Section!’ I bellowed, spittle spraying over my
visor. I pointed toward the northern wall. ‘They’re coming for you!’

Two Section all looked up at me in alarm, and then
braced themselves as they prepared to repel the Militia. Unlike our conventional
enemies, we knew that Helstrom was happy to sacrifice manpower to achieve his
aims, and his men were prone to conducting human wave style attacks.

‘Grenades!’ I shouted.

Remaining at the top of the ladder, I drew my own
grenade from its pouch and set the timer. I then turned and tossed it across
the courtyard, sending it tumbling over the other side of the northern wall and
into the Militiamen’s path.

Somebody shouted, but too late. The grenade shook the
wall visibly, sending sparks spraying into the air.

Having seen what I was doing, Corporal Kamara tossed
another grenade over the wall, adding to the chaos on the other side.

‘Watch out for Militia running away from the wall!’
the section commander shouted at his men inside the mouse holes, just as his
grenade exploded.

Corporal Kamara’s men switched their fire away from
the group they had pinned to the north, searching for any survivors fleeing
from our grenades.

For a moment there was deathly silence. And there
was something unnerving in that silence. Up until then we had heard nothing but
the continuous barrage from the automated gun on the south-western sangar.

It took me less than a second to realise that the sangar
gun had stopped firing against the western wall, and another fraction of a second
to realise why. The robotic weapon was programmed to recognise its own forces
and to check its fire accordingly. Someone had crossed into its arcs . . . on
the western wall.

‘They’ve changed direction!’ I screamed, sliding
back down the ladder in my haste to defend against the upcoming attack.

Puppy and I left the ladder to clatter to the ground
as we bounded toward the two mouse holes on the western wall. Both of us
knowing what was coming.

The first Militiaman stumbled through the nearest mouse
hole, his combats ripped and torn. In the dark I saw that his visor was
completely missing, and his face glistened wet with blood in the flickering
light like a zombie from a bad hologram. He had taken the full force of one of
our grenades on the northern wall, but had somehow survived, and now he planned
to exact his revenge.

Myers opened fire from the outbuilding airlock,
catching the Militiaman square in the chest. Rather than fall backward, though,
the man fell forward, pushed out of the way by a press of men behind him. I had
no idea how many more Militiamen had survived, but there was no time to plan
how to respond. I knew that I had to prevent the breech, or the entire mission
could fail.

My rifle magnets screamed in fury as I closed the
gap between me and the assaulting Militia. Then I thrust my rifle forward,
stabbing my bayonet into the nearest Militiaman. The thrust was poorly aimed,
catching the man just below the armpit, but it was still enough to send him
reeling backward into his comrades, blood squirting as the blade withdrew.

I can barely describe what happened next. It felt as
though all of my anger and all of my hatred was suddenly released onto the
Militiamen packed into that hole. I stabbed and I hacked at them like a man
possessed, the sheer rage flowing out from me like a torrent.