RECCE II (The Union Series Book 5) (8 page)

‘Listen, Moralee,’ he said suddenly, his voice
lowering. ‘I want to find our boss as much as you do. If the FEA manage to get
the comms network going,
and
we can use it to speak with B Company on
the surface, then I will consider all options, but I will not take this platoon
deeper underground until I have comms. That’s final. Now get out of my face. Go
chat with this woman and see what else she knows.’

I seethed as I spun on my heel and made my way back
to Yulia. Whether I liked it or not, the sergeant major was in charge and his
response to the situation was entirely logical - even though I believed it to
be wrong. I had no doubt that our captured comrades were already on their way
out of the warren, and our delaying would almost certainly seal their fate. My
inability to help them infuriated me, like a man with his arms tied behind his
back, but I knew that I had no choice but to obey the sergeant major’s
instructions. Now wasn’t the time for another lone attempt at taking on Bhasin
and his men. My own men still needed me.

‘So that’s a no, then?’ Myers asked as I neared him.

Before I opened my mouth to speak, Puppy signalled
to me with a wave of his arm from the far side of the command chamber. I
changed direction toward my second in command, and as I approached I saw that an
injured man lay at his feet, being tended to by Wildgoose and Leaman. They must
have found him whilst searching the chambers for the boss.

‘We found this guy amongst a load of bodies,’ Puppy
said. ‘It looks as though the rogue Guardsmen were going through their prisoners
one by one, trying to get information.’

I crouched next to the man, studying him whilst Wildgoose
swept a torch over his body. He was dressed in a civilian jumpsuit similar to
that which Yulia wore. He was covered in blood, and by the twisted expression
on his face I could see he was clearly in a lot of pain. His chest rose and
fell in small, rapid gasps, as if he couldn’t take a full lung of air. Wildgoose
had opened his jumpsuit to expose his chest and stomach, and was busy
inspecting the dark bruises that covered him.

‘How is he?’ I asked.

Wildgoose sat back on his haunches. ‘He's seen
better days,’ he replied with dark sarcasm. ‘They must have beaten seven bells
out of him. He's probably broken a couple of ribs, and by the colour of his
abdomen I would say he’s suffering from some major internal bleeding.’

‘Can you help him?’

The sniper puffed his cheeks as he tried to
contemplate a way of saving the man, then shook his head. ‘Even if I had the
time - which I presume I don’t - no. Gunshot wounds and stab wounds are one
thing, but this is something else. A trooper’s combats have sensors that give me
casualty info through their datapads, but with this guy I wouldn’t even know
where to start. There are no fancy scanners out here. He probably needs opening
up in an operating theatre.’

I stared down at the man for a moment. He was in a
sorry state, eyelids flickering and chest almost in spasm as he tried to breathe.
‘All for information . . .’ I said thoughtfully. ‘What was it that Bhasin
wanted to know so badly?’

As if on cue, Yulia appeared, causing me to look up
in surprise as she knelt next to the man’s head. My eyes flicked to Myers, who
had apparently allowed her to follow me without bothering to check if it was OK
first. The young trooper simply shrugged.

‘His name was Ramos,’ Yulia told us. ‘He was one of
my men.’

‘He’s not dead yet . . .’ Wildgoose pointed out
testily. Like the sergeant major, he clearly didn’t trust her either. I doubted
he was the only one.

‘He will be dead soon. You know this.’ Yulia’s eyes
remained fixed onto Ramos as she spoke. ‘He knew the route we took into the warren,
as well as where our men are located. This is what Bhasin wanted to know, and this
is why Ramos was tortured. Bhasin was never worried about finding the missiles,
he knew where they were. He was worried about getting them out.’

Puppy cocked his head inquisitively. ‘Well . . . how
did
you get into the warren, then?’

She looked up from her battered comrade. ‘The
sewers.’

We all exchanged glances, and I frowned at her. ‘Sewers?’

‘Drainage that leads out of the warren,’ she
explained. ‘It connects to an underground reservoir used by the air factory.
There is a pipeline connected to that, which leads out of the village and back
into the Bosque.’

‘Told you, didn’t I?’ Myers blurted, holding him
arms out triumphantly. ‘You could get straight in using the pipeline all
along!’

‘It isn’t an easy way to enter the warren,’ Yulia
cautioned. ‘You would need certain equipment.’

‘Like what?’

‘Floatation devices. Waterproofing. The water is
very, very cold.’

Myers shrugged. ‘Well. Still . . . I said it was a
good idea.’

‘Could Bhasin use your route to escape from the
warren?’ I asked Yulia.

‘Yes,’ she replied instantly.

‘Well let’s go, then!’ Wildgoose said.

I shook my head. ‘We can’t do anything until the FEA
get the comms network up and running. If they don’t, then we’ll be on our way
back to the surface . . .’

‘And leave the boss to die . . .?’ Puppy asked.

‘Yeah. I tried to argue with the sergeant major, but
. . .’

He gave a thin smile. ‘We heard.’

‘Well, we’ll know one way or another in a few
minutes,’ Wildgoose said. ‘Can you hear that?’

We all stopped to listen.

‘Hear what?’ I asked. I couldn’t hear anything except
Ramos’s last, laboured breaths.

‘Exactly. The screaming has stopped.’

Captain Mori and his men might have been prepared to
die for their cause, but they obviously hadn’t been prepared to suffer the pain
that the FEA had inflicted upon them. By the time I returned to the storage
chamber where the sergeant major had waited, Rusakov emerged to announce that
the brutal torture of their prisoners had been successful.

As he made his announcement, two FEA soldiers
dragged a Guardsman out after him, quickly hurrying him away into another
darkened tunnel nearby. His resolve shattered, the Guardsman sobbed in
self-pity as he disappeared into the gloom.

‘Most of the command equipment has been destroyed,’
Rusakov said, pointing toward the destroyed computer hardware scattered across
the command chamber to prove the point. ‘The network has not been damaged,
though. It is controlled from a separate chamber. None of the optical cables
have been touched, it has only been turned off. We must now turn it back on.’

In response, the sergeant major glanced at me.
‘Close in the commanders.’

I nodded and quickly relayed the message by hand
signal to the other troopers in the command chamber, tapping two fingers on my
upper arm and then tapping my helmet.
Commanders. On me.

The message quickly spread across the chamber.

‘Do your men have the expertise to reverse whatever
was done to the network?’ the sergeant major asked Rusakov, with a hint of
doubt in his voice. ‘I assume that turning the network back on is a little more
complex than flicking a switch?’

Rusakov smiled. It was the same cruel smile he had
flashed me earlier, before the torture began. ‘Our new friends will show us
how.’

The sergeant major shrugged indifferently. ‘Good
enough for me. What about our platoon commander?’

Rusakov let out a sigh as he prepared himself to
deliver bad news. ‘They tell me that your comrades were taken away by Colonel
Bhasin and a platoon of his men.’

‘Where were they taking them?’

‘Out of the warren,’ Rusakov answered. ‘They say
there is a way out using tunnels that run water into an underground lake.’

The sergeant major’s eyes flicked to me for a
second. The information provided by the tortured Guardsmen matched Yulia’s
story. I knew that it changed nothing. He wasn’t going to lead the platoon
underground until he had comms with the surface, even if that meant losing our
comrades and failing our mission to deny the missiles from our shady enemy.

He looked back at Rusakov. ‘What else did you find
out?’

‘They think that the commanding officer and his
staff were the traitors, not themselves.’ Rusakov said. ‘They think that they
needed to capture the headquarters and cut it off until reinforcements arrive.’

‘Is there any truth in that?’

‘No. It is total madness. But the zombies will
believe what they are told to believe.’

The sergeant major nodded slowly. ‘OK. Thank you,
Rusakov. Your help has been appreciated.’

The burly Guard NCO returned the nod. ‘Days ago I
would say that it is an insult to work with Union troopers . . .’ He regarded
me for a moment. ‘It has been an honour. Please excuse me, but I must help the
FEA. I will make sure you know when the network is working. It will not be
longer than a few minutes.’

The other corporals arrived one by one, whilst
Rusakov went to speak with one of the FEA commanders. We shared quiet greetings
as we came together once more - though there was no exchange of friendly banter
or jubilation over our successful capture of the headquarters. We might have
managed our feat without a single drop of Union blood spilt, but the platoon
had already taken crippling casualties, and our missing comrades were still nowhere
to be seen.

Pulling no punches, the sergeant major started with
the bad news. ‘Our comrades aren’t here, obviously.’

None of us said a word.

‘On a lighter note, it looks as though the FEA will
manage to re-activate the warren network shortly.’

‘Thank god,’ Corporal Kamara said with feeling. ‘I
thought that screaming would go on forever.’

‘I wasn’t happy sitting around listening to that,’
Abs agreed. ‘I know this isn’t our war, but . . .’

The sergeant major waved us silent, then regarded us
all with cold eyes. ‘Frankly, I don’t care how the FEA do their business right
now, and neither should you. Rusakov tells me that the network will be online
soon, which should hopefully mean that we will have comms with the surface.
Rigden?’

His signaller nodded. ‘Yes, sir. It shouldn’t matter
that the network was switched off. If anything, by destroying half of the
electronic equipment in this room we will probably have made it
easier
to connect.’

‘Well, let’s hope so, otherwise we won’t have
achieved a thing down here,’ the sergeant major said. He paused, turning his
head downward as he took a moment to reflect on the situation. ‘Corporal
Moralee has found his friend Yulia amongst the prisoners,’ he explained. ‘She
claims to know the route being taken by the rogue Guardsmen as we speak, which
involves heading into a sewer system beneath the warren. We will wait until the
network goes online, then see what the OC makes of all this. Ultimately it’s
him who has the final say, since if he feels that he can’t continue to hold the
ground above us then we will need to extract with him.’

We waited for several tense minutes. FEA soldiers
scurried across the command chamber while we waited, performing unknown tasks
amongst the smashed equipment. I assumed that they were busy attempting to
salvage whatever equipment they could - though I doubted that the electronic
hardware had survived the battle.

Now that Yulia’s story had been confirmed by
Rusakov, waiting for comms to the surface was even more frustrating, as the
distance between us and our friends grew ever greater.

Suddenly a message was shouted across the chamber.
Hearing the message, Rusakov turned to us and gave a thumbs up. ‘The network is
online.’

All heads turned to Rigden, the sergeant major’s
signaller, whose finger tapped in a blur against his datapad screen. We were
lucky that the platoon came with two command groups, otherwise losing the
platoon commander and his team would have left us without a trained signaller,
and no expertise to even attempt connecting to a foreign comms network.

The signaller held up a hand ‘And . . . we’re . . . in!’
He chopped the hand downward, evidently pleased with his success. We had been
provided with access to the network previously, but even so, connecting to
another army’s comms system was no simple task.

The sergeant major was straight on the net, sending
a message out to our comrades on the surface. ‘Hello Hammersmith-Zero-Alpha,
this is Blackjack-One-Zero, comms check?’

OC B Company’s response was instant. He had
undoubtedly been waiting for our message with increasing unease.
‘Blackjack-One-Zero, this is Hammersmith-Zero-Alpha. You’re transmitting OK to
me.’

We all breathed a collective sigh of relief, the
communication lifeline having been restored between us and B Company. It didn’t
matter if we wanted to give chase into the depths of the warren or make our
escape, an enormous pressure had been released by our newfound ability to talk
to those on the outside world. Suddenly the warren felt less claustrophobic, as
if the chambers themselves had grown larger, and the tunnels had become wider.
We were no longer on our own.