The fall of Union (Rise of the Union Book 1)

by Niall McGrath

  “I have no idea. No goddamn idea at all. It’s alive. We need to secure it - Kelly will want to see this.” Ryder’s hands trembled from the fight, and he couldn’t get them to stop. Pulling restraints from his belt pack, he knelt down and wound them round the prone body’s ankles and wrists.

  A wide, flat nose dominated, the figures upswept head rising from the brow and angled backwards with two wide eyes angled upwards towards a deep brow. Hairless, with rough skin textured and coloured dull blue like the winter seas. He couldn’t see any ears.

  “Uh, sir,” said Wu from behind him as he knelt in front of the figure, “That’s not...not human. Is it?”

  “Specialist, I know about as much as you do.” replied Ryder. “Considering everything we’ve seen already today...well…”. Wu nodded. “Get up on top of that building and see if you can pull Jansen and Bernard up over the radio, they need to see this.”.

  Long range visor communication was down. His best guess was that whatever had caused the SatNet blackout earlier was blocking their visors from doing anything outside of line of sight. Back to good old radio. Wu saluted and sprinted off, calling out to another trooper to follow him.

  As soon as Ryder realised he couldn’t leave the unconscious soldier lying in the open, it was already too late to hide him. The troops with him had been looking at their downed attackers and someone else had decided to remove a helmet from one of the bodies.

  Swearing erupted from them, confused chatter and questions reaching back to his ears. A gunshot echoed out as another trooper shot a still-twitching corpse in the head, putting the injured “man” out of his misery.

  Several of the soldiers gathered at the front lines didn’t even notice as he brushed past them and moved up to the bodies they were inspecting. Specialist King was inspecting one of the prone figures, using his combat knife to pry loose armor to get a better look and glanced up at Ryder as he approached, head tilted.

  “Sir.” acknowledged Specialist King, his voice pitched low. “These guys aren’t Human. What do we do? Look at this,” he gestured at the body at his feet that had been neatly bisected, it’s innards spilling out onto the parched ground. “I don’t even know what this organ is. I’d expect a liver, but it’s split into sections. Those eyes? And the mouth...what is that?”

  Ryder nodded. He couldn’t think of anything to say back to the Specialist. Instead, he raised his voice and said “We’ll see what the Captain figures before we move further. Hold tight and reload, we’re waiting on the Captain.”. Assent chorused from the troops as they began to straighten up while a few began bandaging minor injuries.

  King rose and walked over to their line of wounded, checking them over. As Ryder watched, King blessed himself and muttered a few words, inaudible to anyone but him and the wounded soldier he was attending but Ryder got the message - they were going to be losing another soldier soon, and it wouldn’t be getting better anytime soon.

  XI

  For reasons unknown

  The unmistakable whine of Broadsword transports drifted to Ryder though the murky air as Bernard led his platoon back onto the highway, the Captain spotting him and lifting an arm in greeting, his face grim.

  Ryder gestured the Captain over, placing a finger to his lips in the universal gesture for ‘Keep quiet’.

  “Sir, you need to see this.” He said, motioning Bernard to follow him to the lead LAV. Bernard looked at him, brow raised, but said nothing, as Ryder threw open the rear doors. The prisoner lay prone on the ground - awake. Red eyes the colour of fresh blood stared back at them, the expression unreadable.

  Bernard blinked several times as he saw the body, then pulled the pistol from his pocket in one swift movement and aimed it directly at the prisoner. Ryder caught the Captain’s arm and forced the pistol away. “Evan, no! We need prisoners, we need to know what’s going on!”.

  “Get the hell off me, Luke. You haven’t seen what I have - what these monsters are doing in the city. Not everyone got out. We came across a patrol of close to 50 men, too many to engage we thought about a klick east. They were executing people, dragging women and children out of houses and cutting their throats in the streets. Goddamn it, we couldn’t do anything about it.” Bernard walked away from the LAV, his eyes watering and face flushed.

  “Women and children, Luke. There are patrols of these bastards all over, killing and destroying anything they find between us and the Senate. There’s not going to be anything left when we get there. We’ve found hundreds of bodies.”

  He was struggling to find the right words, emotion overtaking him. “We could have stopped them. Look at the mess you’ve caused here, you gutted them like old fish even though you were outnumbered. We could have stopped them.”

  Taking a shuddering breath, he continued. “What the hell are we fighting, here? They’re not human - I saw another one bare-headed. Green, but looked identical to this bastard. They can’t be extra-terrestrial, or the whole fucking Universe has gone mad.”

  Ryder shrugged, taking recent events in his stride in a way the Captain wasn’t able to. “Don’t know where they came from, but the Senate is designed to handle an attack, they knew it would come be it from separatists or elsewhere. They can hold. These...creatures...are attacking it for a reason.” He replied.

  He put a hand on the Captain’s shoulder. “Evan, we need to pull ourselves together and get moving, we’re nearly at highway 5, we can hit their flank inside 30 minutes.”

  Bernard nodded. “Yes, you’re right.” He replied, wiping his nose on his sleeve and taking a deep breath. “What do we even call these bastards anyway, Luke? I’m not radioing HQ to tell them we’re getting into firefights with Aliens.”

  “They remind me of Sharks. Those wicked teeth and the rough skin. Eyes and nose aren’t right, but I don’t see ears either.”

  “Sharks. Can run with that for now. We only came back because we heard the gunfire - Wu didn’t get us on the radio until we were nearly here. We’re moving when Jansen gets back, if he does. He’ll take point. Luke, I-“ Hot blood splashed over Ryder’s face as Bernard’s body was jerked sideways by an impact, the Captain sprawling at his feet. In the distance, a muted crack sounded.

  “SNIPER!” Yelled Ryder, grabbing Bernard’s harness and dragging the Captain to the back of the LAV, slamming the door with the prisoner still inside.

  More cries went up from the troops around him as sparks flew from the side hatch of the LAV a mere foot from his face as he glanced around the read of the LAV, a shard of hot metal slicing across his right cheek. He dropped down into a crouch and pulled back into cover, looking around.

  “Wu!” He yelled, “Did you see where that came from?”

  “The tower half a klick north I think, sir. Raised Plaza out front.”.

  “Can you get a shot?” Ryder called back.

  “No sir, I’ve poor line of sight and no cover to make a better spot. Can you make it over to the blue car 10 metres on your right? You’ll get a better shot from there.”

  “Yes. Squad, covering fire on the tower plaza, NOW!” Yelled Ryder, throwing himself from cover and sprinting over to the car Wu had suggested, throwing himself into a slide as he made the car Wu indicated, his body leaving a dent in it’s side as it arrested his momentum. Gunfire rang out from dozens of rifles. At that range, they had no chance of landing a good shot but it might force the sniper to keep his head down.

  Another crack drifted over the highway, and one of the Sergeants whose name he hadn’t yet learnt went down as she had stood up and looked around in near panic; a neat hole had been punched through her bulletproof visor.

  He sighted along his rifle, tracing the raised fence that bordered the tower’s plaza. Where are you, thought Ryder, just give me something to aim at.

  He spotted a flash of crimson and reacted, firing.

  The shot went high, clipping a fountain thirty yards behind where he was aiming and the noise and passage of the shot was swallowed by the weight of fire hammer
ing the area from three platoons worth of soldiers.

  Another flash of crimson, and a blue streak shot out from the plaza towards third platoon, catching Wu a glancing blow on the upper arm as he ran between cover and spinning him off his feet.

  Wu was back up and running before the dull crack even made it to him, cradling his arm. He was going to be in no shape to try and take the sniper out. It’s all on me now, thought Ryder. No bloody pressure, then.

  He continued to track the plaza, steadying his breathing. There, he thought, another splash of colour ten meters from the last spot he’d seen, squeezing the trigger on his railgun. Snap. He was rewarded with a puff of blood in the distance, a body sprawling into sight.

  “Hold fire!” He cried out, rising to his feet but wary of another sniper. Looked like the sniper was operating alone. Then he remembered - Bernard was down. Slinging his rifle back in his combat webbing, he sprinted over to the LAV.

  XI / I promise this won’t hurt

  It was too late. Blank eyes looked back at him, the Captain’s chest still. A ragged wound disfigured the front of his throat. King came running over, slowing as he got close and realised there was nothing he could do.

  Ryder had his jaw and fists clenched, anger radiating outwards. He realised that he’d been blocking the day's events out, as if they didn’t matter to him - he was Irish, not a citizen of the Union. EMP blasts, aircraft going down, even the orbital strike - they had been happening to other people, other nations.

  Yet at his feet, the body of one of the few friends he’d made in the military lay still. Something clicked in his mind He realised it wasn’t about other people, it was about him. About his friends, and their friends. It was personal, and it always had been. He couldn’t keep treating the day's events as someone else's problem that he happened to be experiencing.

  He spun around. “King, pass word around. I’m taking command of the company. Wu, send the two remaining NCO’s over to me.” He pointed at another trooper he didn’t recognise. “You, Scotsman, get up that tower and raise Jansen. We’re pushing ahead at full pace, mechanised advance.”

  The troops scurried around to follow orders. Wounded troops were loaded into the LAV’s and a slow advance began, troops perched on transport roofs where space was at a premium. As they passed the plaza the sniper had been using for cover, Ryder hopped off the transport he was on.

  Walking onto the plaza, he located the sniper’s body. Similar in general shape but bigger, bulkier and in granite grey armor. A crimson hand was displayed on the left breast, three fingered and clawed with blood dripping from the fingertips.

  The soldier's helmet had been blown off and was open to the air, allowing Ryder to make out lighter skin than the other Sharks he’d faced not long before, skin the colour of clouds on an overcast day. Eyes stared out, blank and staring, the same discomforting shade of old blood.

  An elite of some sort, perhaps. He shrugged and jogged back over to the transports before climbing back up and retaking his place. “Onwards” He radioed the company. Overhead, an unlit neon sign for gene therapy looked down at them, “Citizens only” discernible on the bottom of the sign. Have the best child you can - but only if you’re one of us, thought Ryder.

  As they began to pull away, his visor barked static, a voice drifting in and out. “...tenant, this is Sergeant A...first platoon...sen says old sub...plaza…”. The feed cut out again. Was that Jansen? Plaza? He must have a plan, he thought.

  They abruptly cut east, the convoy following map markers laid out in their visor HUD’s by Bernard before his demise. The distant thumps of explosions and staccato cough of automatic fire started drifting between buildings towards them as the streets narrowed and they approached their destination.

  Ryder thumped the hatch to signal a halt as they made it to their staging area, and the lead LAV slowed to a halt, other vehicles behind them fanning out as much as was possible and soldiers dismounting.

  “Right lads, one last time - check your gear and get ready.” he called. The noise of a substantial explosion echoed over them and shook the ground, a sign of how desperate the struggle had become - as Jansen had predicted, the Sharks had headed straight at the Senate Building.

  As he moved between squads, speaking to troopers and checking gear, he developed an itch between his shoulder blades; He could swear there were eyes on him but every time he turned and no matter where he looked, there was nothing.

  As far as they knew, they had made it here relatively undetected - certainly no more forces had been sent out towards them. It sounded like every remaining soldier in the city was fighting less than a mile from them, the unrelenting sound of war not slowing for even a moment.

  After he clapped a trooper on the back and offered several words encouragement, he moved on and walked round one of the transports towards the last group of soldiers he hadn’t spoken to.

  He heard furtive footsteps following behind him and an indrawn breath.

  Turning, a knife filled his vision, plunging towards his heart. He blocked the thrust with crossed forearms, falling backwards, his shoulder striking the transport and his balance leaving him. The figure followed him down, knife in hand, teeth bared.

  On his back, he halted the knife’s passage mere inches from his face, the visage of Trooper Smith hovering in the air behind it. He was pushing down with all his weight as the knife inched closer and closer to Ryder’s face, his weight lying across Ryder’s chest.

  Drawing a laboured breath, he took a gamble and slipped one hand out from under the knife, jabbing a thumb in Smith’s eye. Smith recoiled backwards, howling, letting Ryder buck his hips and throw him off. He followed, throwing his shoulder into Smith and fumbling at his own knife and swinging it overhand.

  Despite his earlier reluctance to get involved in close quarters, Smith was no easy target and put him off balance by pushing his wild overhand swing to the side before smashing his forehead into Ryder’s jaw, staggering him.

  He lost his balance again but this time fell gracelessly to his knees, stunned. His hand lost grip on his combat knife as it dropped to the ground.

  “Your kind will never be part of the Union,” Taunted Smith, “Too stupid, too greedy. It’s because of officers like you my family suffered.” Smith stepped towards him, a gloating smile on his face, before he froze at the sound of a muted crack.

  His mouth opened and closed, no words issuing forth before he slumped to his knees and crashed over onto his back with eyes glassy and unfocused as life left him.

  Specialist Wu stood at the side of the transport, one arm in a sling, the other clutching a smoking silenced pistol. He holstered it and rushed over to Ryder, helping him to his feet with his good hand. “Sir,” Wu hesitated before continuing, “maybe I’m out of line but I don’t think I had much choice there.”

  “No, I don’t think you did. What the hell was that bastard doing? Besides the obvious.” Ryder replied.

  “Didn’t like Classers sir. His brother died in the Western Sahara a few years back. Former Nigerian military.” Said Wu. “Don’t think he ever let it go. Often said he was itching to go to Argentina and get his own back. He was in third platoon, lost five there and it’s barely half strength now - might be that, too.”

  “Well, he’s not able to tell us why now. Goddamn idiot, what did he think he could achieve? Killing me would have gotten him nowhere but prison and we’re in the middle of nearly a company worth of troops with no enemies - and he tries to carve me like a turkey.”

  Ryder shook his head. “Not the brightest man in the unit. His plan was probably to gut me and try to pin it on our unconscious friend here making an escape attempt before he swoops in, puts him down and ‘avenges’ my death.”

  Wu nodded. “Sounds like the type of plan he’d come up with. Can’t say I’ll miss him though, bastard always had me digging latrines on patrols. We’re ready to go now, sir, anyways.” Wu gestured at Smith’s corpse. “What about...that?”

  “Sling it in t
he transport, we’ll get a report together when this is all done when and if we manage to walk away from today.” Ryder replied, before grunting in effort as Wu helped him sling Smith’s body into the transport.

  Turning back to Wu, he gestured towards the plaza. “Let’s get this farce moving before anyone else tries to stab or shoot me. I’ve had enough trouble today and I want it over with.” He followed Wu towards the transports and checked his own weapons. All functional.

  He straightened his jacket and helmet as he walked round the line of transports and paused, studying the four platoons clustered around the transports and LAV’s. Nerves and excitement were present in equal measure, several soldiers staring into space - no doubt they’d seen combat before and knew what was coming.

  Whistling, he signalled the company to move out - One way or another, it would be over soon. With any luck, he’d even live through it - but he wasn’t counting on it.