RECCE II (The Union Series Book 5) (36 page)

Corporal Kamara appeared to bristle slightly, but
said nothing.

‘Has anyone got any questions?’ the sergeant major
asked. He looked directly at Two Section’s commander, having seen his
discontent. ‘Any issues?’

Corporal Kamara identified the challenge, and
lowered his head. ‘No, sir.’

‘Good.’ The sergeant major picked himself up and
stalked away, presumably searching for somewhere to think on his own. Stan was
the next to leave, hurrying back to his men outside the compound.

I glanced at Corporal Kamara. ‘Sorry, mate.’

The section commander frowned. ‘Why are
you
sorry?’

‘I’m guessing you wanted to go across with Stan?’

He shook his head. ‘No . . . I wanted to go across
with
you
. There was never any chance that he’d leave you behind, you’re
the sergeant major’s top boy!’

It was my turn to frown. ‘
Top boy
?’

‘He thinks the sun shines out your arse, mate,’ Abs
translated with a grin.

I waved the comment away. ‘Shut up, mate!’

He laughed. ‘Isn’t it obvious? You’ve had a lead
role in near enough everything we’ve done since entering Cellini! There’s no
danger of the sergeant major leaving you behind, you’re like his right-hand
man!’

I fell silent, stunned by my comrades’ take on my
position within the platoon. I had made so many mistakes since arriving on Eden,
it was a wonder that the sergeant major even allowed me to stay within Recce,
let alone regarded me highly. My recent incompetence had resulted in the deaths
of multiple civilians, and potentially scuppered any hope of rescuing the boss.
How could he possibly respect me? What did he see in me that I didn’t?

Aleksi’s voice snapped me back to reality. ‘One-Zero,
this is Poltergeist-One, the Boskers have just made their break in to the nearest
of the two barrack buildings! I’m making my way in now!’

Abs picked himself up with a tired groan, then
patted me on the shoulder. ‘Make sure your men are ready to move as soon as Wildgoose
and Griffiths get back. Looks like you’ll be back on the move shortly . . .’

‘I’ll get my lads to relieve yours on the western
wall,’ Corporal Kamara added.

I nodded. ‘Cheers, Corporal Kamara.’

‘No worries. It’s Kam, by the way. Only the boss and
the sergeant major call me Corporal! Take care, mate. See you on the other
side.’

15

The Barracks

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‘Two section!’ the sergeant major hollered across
the darkened compound. ‘Smoke off the approach route to the barracks!’

The sangar compound erupted with noise as multiple grenade
launchers fired, illuminating us with orange light as the guided grenades hurtled
across Trondheim, each one instructed to land in the open space between us and
the barrack buildings. Exploding to form an instant wall of hot smoke, they
created the covered approach route that Stan and his section needed to make
their crossing.

‘Move now, One-Three!’ the sergeant major ordered on
the net.

Stan’s response was instant. ‘One-Three, moving!’

A moment after that, I spotted the silhouette of the
first man in Stan’s section through one of the two mouse holes on the northern
wall. He sprinted through the smoke, swiftly followed by a line of troopers.

The sergeant major moved up to the other of the two
northern mouse holes, ushering for the trooper there to move out of the way. ‘Corporal
Moralee, wait here and move on my order!’

‘Roger!’ I acknowledged.

With that, he disappeared through the mouse hole, shortly
followed by his signaller. I watched as the two of them sped after Three
Section, keeping themselves in a position to control the battle.

The advancing troopers bounded over obstacles like
hurdlers in a race, knowing that they needed to make best use of our smoke
before it dissipated. The fighting was now focused around the two buildings as
the battle broke down into fierce, room-to-room combat, but that didn’t mean
that somebody might spot them and cut them down in the open.

The figures then disappeared into the grey carpet of
smoke, leaving us to wait anxiously, every trooper holding his breath as we
prayed that our comrades made it safely across. We wouldn’t move off until Stan
made his entry, ensuring that there was never more than one section exposed in
the open ground, as well as making sure that we had a secure foothold within
the barracks for me to move up to.

‘Stack up behind me!’ I ordered my section. ‘Prepare
to move!’

My section formed up in a line beside the mouse hole,
with me leaning around to watch in eager anticipation. I was ready to go, ready
to find the people who inflicted so much damage onto my platoon and make them
pay.

After almost a minute, the sergeant major spoke,
breathing heavily over the net: ‘One-One, move now!’

‘One-One, roger!’ I replied. ‘Kam, give me smoke!’

Corporal Kamara responded instantly, bellowing the
order for his men to fire their launchers.

I waited for the grenades to detonate, adding to the
dark cloud so that almost everything ahead of us became shrouded from view.
Satisfied that my approach was well concealed, I glanced over my shoulder.
‘Let’s go!’

Boots scraped against rubble as we poured out
through the mouse hole and then charged in the direction of the barracks, using
the green crosshairs that marked our comrades as a guide. We ignored the
gridded road system, instead cutting diagonally across patches of grass,
concrete and metal. The ground was scattered with smouldering phosphor, and the
bodies of the Militiamen we had caught in the open during the battle for the
sangar compound.

I saw that there were other figures ahead of us,
tens of them all hurrying toward the buildings from the east. I realised that
it was the Boskers, flowing across from the slave camp in order to continue
their attack. The outer defences of Trondheim had failed entirely, and now they
were closing in for the kill.

Darts suddenly whipped through the smoke, causing
everyone to duck. Enemy somewhere within the barrack buildings were obviously
shooting into the smoke, having realised that it was being used to conceal our
advance. Thankfully no casualty warnings flashed on my visor, but the good
fortune didn’t extend to the Boskers. As I watched, rounds peppered the ground
at their feet, striking several of them and sending them sprawling to the
ground.

‘Hard target!’ Puppy shouted from the back of our
line. ‘Don’t stop! Keep moving!’

Rather than running in a straight line, we zig-zagged
instead, trying to make ourselves a more difficult target in case somebody
could see us through the smoke. As it cooled, it was possible for somebody to
see through it using thermal imaging. I ducked ever lower, as low as I could
without forcing myself to slow down. We were horribly exposed, with nothing
more than hot smoke as our cover, and as we drew near, the barrack buildings
became visible above the cloud, their dark shapes looming menacingly. Windows
flashed and flickered, and shouts echoed from within them as the Boskers met
with their most hated enemy.

‘One-One, steer onto Mathers!’ the sergeant major
ordered. ‘He’s waiting at the entry point!’

I looked at the mass of green crosshairs ahead of
me, quickly identifying Mathers, one of Stan’s troopers. He was less than
twenty metres away, and as I altered my course he became visible, stood just
within a smashed-out window and beckoning furiously.

‘This way, lads!’ he called.

As soon as I reached him, Mathers helped me to
scramble through the window. All sense of grace was discarded as I allowed him
to drag me over the frame, collapsing awkwardly on a pile of broken glass on
the other side. My boots sent shards skittering across the tiled floor as I
leapt to my feet, just in time to help Mathers to pull Myers through in the
same fashion.

‘Help the others, mate,’ I instructed the young
trooper as I helped him back up.

Satisfied that my section could gain entrance to the
building without my help, I turned and inspected my surroundings, finding
myself in a small room filled with upturned chairs and tables. Presumably the
Militia had used the window as a fire position from which to defend the
building, before beating a hasty retreat when the Boskers broke in. The
building echoed loudly with the sound of battle, every gunshot and every shout
seemingly magnified by the walls around us.

The sergeant major and the rest of Stan’s section
were all outside the room, spread either side of a darkened corridor. He spotted
me and called me toward him with a tap on his helmet.

‘Take your section along the ground floor,’ he
ordered when I approached. He nodded toward a stair case that opened up onto
the corridor. ‘I’ll go with Corporal Stanton and move along the upper floor.’

Something exploded within the building, causing the
walls around us to shake.

‘What am I doing?’ I asked once the noise had
subsided. ‘Am I clearing enemy?’

He shook his head. ‘No. Not unless Aleksi asks you
to. Keep the Boskers as a buffer between you and the enemy, and use the
opportunity to gain any intelligence that you can. . .’

I raised an eyebrow, detecting a hidden meaning in
the sergeant major’s tone. ‘On what happened to the boss?’

‘The boss, the missiles, those responsible . . . anything.’
He held up a cautioning finger. ‘Remember, we are effectively under Aleksi’s
command, and our role is to ensure that he achieves his mission, but that doesn’t
mean we can’t keep ourselves busy while we wait.’

I nodded, understanding the sergeant major’s view on
the situation. Theoretically we could sit back and wait, allowing the Boskers
to continue their clearance until they either succeeded on their own or called
for our help. But we were now in the perfect position to use the chaos to our
advantage, following up behind the Bosker army in search of Bhasin or Helstrom.
Suddenly vengeance was a very real possibility.

‘Stay alert!’ the sergeant major warned me finally,
before following Three Section up the staircase and leaving me and my men on
our own.

Just then Puppy gave me a pat on the shoulder. ‘All
in, mate!’

‘Roger!’ I replied, looking behind me to see that
all my section stacked up and closed up together in the corridor. Their chests
were heaving from their mad dash across the open ground, and Weatherall still
flashed yellow on my display, but they were all good to go.

‘We’re going along the ground floor,’ I explained
quickly. ‘We’re surrounded by Boskers, so be careful not to shoot friendlies. I
want any cleared rooms to be searched, as well as any bodies or captured
personnel . . . if there are any. Understood?’

Every trooper nodded, poised to launch on my order.
They knew as I did who we were after.

‘Let’s get these bastards! Prepare to move!’

‘Prepare to move!’ they parroted back, hands
instinctively reaching down to check their pouches were closed.

‘Let’s go!’

Chaos reigned within the barrack building. Every
corridor and every room strobed and flickered like the dancefloor of some
hellish nightclub, echoing with bloodcurdling battle cries, tormented screaming,
and the noise of a hundred rifles all firing at once. Upturned beds and
battered furniture were strewn across the floor, often formed into crude
barricades that told of a fast, yet vicious battle. The bodies of Boskers and
Militiamen lay tangled together amongst the wreckage, their blood mixing
together to form pools on the cold tiles.

I swore as I slipped on the spilt blood of a man who
had clearly been shot multiple times, narrowly avoiding falling over. Boskers
watched from shadowy doorways as I used my hand to steady myself against the
wall, staring with the same nervous caution I had seen from the FEA and the
Guard. They knew that we weren’t Militia, but they still doubted our
intentions.

‘Keep your wits about you,’ I quietly warned my men.
‘Search all bodies you come across.’

We systematically searched through the rooms and
corridors, removing the visor from every corpse we came across and inspecting
their faces with our rifle torches. More Boskers eyed us warily as we
progressed through the building, unsure of who we were and what we were doing. I
wondered how well Aleksi had briefed the amateur soldiers about us.

When I rounded one corner close to the sound of
fighting, I came face to face with a Bosker who was hunched over a fallen
Militiaman. The Bosker looked up at me in surprise. I wasn’t sure what he had
been doing, but I could see a blade in one of his hands, possibly a bayonet,
hovering just over the dead Militiaman’s exposed chest. It glistened wet with
blood. Without breaking eye contact with me, the man gently lowered the blade, and
then his hand slowly crept toward the stock of his rifle, which he had set down
beside the body.

‘Friendlies!’ I whispered, holding a hand out to
show that I meant no harm.

The Bosker stared back blankly for several seconds,
then snapped up his rifle and pointed it straight at my head.

I didn’t exercise any form of restraint, I simply
didn’t have the time to respond. My life didn’t flash before my eyes, and I
didn’t have the time to contemplate my fate as I looked down the barrel of the
Bosker’s rifle and saw him pull the trigger.

Nothing happened, though. The Bosker’s weapon didn’t
fire, and for a second we both froze, him through confusion, and me through
shock.

It took me a second to realise that the friendly
fire lock on the Bosker’s visor, synced with his rifle, had prevented it from
firing. It had saved my life just as it had saved one of the members of the
fire support group outside the barracks.

‘We’re
friendlies
, you stroker!’ Myers
snapped at the Bosker, holding out his arms with exasperation.

Realisation spread across the Bosker’s face as it
became apparent that his rifle had refused to fire, and that his supposed enemy
were resorting to foul language rather than shooting him. His blade then clattered
to the floor as he scurried away.

‘That’s it!’ Myers shouted after him scornfully.
‘Run along, you belter!’

I puffed my cheeks, taken aback by the close
encounter. I then looked down at the Militiaman that the Bosker had been
crouched over. It was difficult to see what exactly the man had done, but it
looked as though he had been carving a symbol onto his victim’s chest. The
Militiaman was dead, but whether he had been dead before the Bosker went about
his grisly work, I didn’t know.