EDEN (The Union Series)

by Richards, Phillip

  ‘How many does it take to kill her?’ Myers asked.

  ‘Two, in quick succession,’ I replied knowingly, and he gulped.

  I knew what I was doing, because I had seen it done before when I allowed Westy to kill his best friend’s wife in an act of mercy. I hadn’t thought about the mental anguish it would cause when my old section commander found out who the woman he killed was, but now I knew it had to be me that carried out such an act. I had to shoulder the burden of guilt on my own.

  I injected her once more, and we watched the girl as the life slowly slipped away from her, each breath becoming noisier as her lungs filled with fluid. She took one final breath, and then stopped, her eyes staring through us and into the canopy.

  ‘She’s gone,’ Yulia said. She removed the girl’s helmet and pulled back her respirator, closing her eyes with her fingers. She sniffed. ‘Do you want to go around and finish off the rest of them? I do not think you have enough injectors, but we can use a knife.’

  I glared at her, but she simply stared back blankly. She was right, and I knew it. With no medical evacuation chain to speak of, there was nothing we could do at all for the wretched soldiers who littered the forest. War was ugly, we all knew it, but that day had opened my eyes to the full brutality of the Bosque.

  ‘No,’ I said finally, shooting a hateful look back at Makito. ‘I’ve seen enough here. Where is your “Major”?’

  ‘He has returned to headquarters to report success,’ Yulia responded.

  I nodded slowly. ‘Of course he has.’

  We returned to the edge of the forest to watch as the remaining force of Loyalists withdrew back toward their original drop-off. Harried by Wildgoose and his sniper rifle, they stumbled through the mud in increasing desperation as one by one their leaders fell.

  I found Puppy crouched in a shallow stream, watching as the sniper went about his work. I couldn’t see Wildgoose, creeping around somewhere out in the marsh with only Holland to provide him with protection. Snipers worked best in small groups - an entire fire team made them easier to spot.

  Puppy saw me amongst the trees and gave me a wave. ‘There you are. How was that?’

  ‘Not so good,’ I replied on the net. ‘They lost an entire platoon.’

  Even from a distance, Puppy looked surprised. ‘All of them?’

  ‘All of them.’

  Further east along the river, the far bank was being pounded by everything the Union had to offer. Flames billowed as incendiary shells burst over the marsh, and several saucers unleashed their payloads into the forest beyond. It was a devastating display of firepower, intended to soften up the Loyalists on the far bank before the first FEA dropships made their crossing.

  ‘The feint failed,’ the platoon commander informed me over the platoon net. ‘The Loyalists never got close enough to turn the attention of the main FEA force. Now that our new “friends” are on the offensive, I think it’s unlikely that the Loyalists will attempt another crossing. I think that they will change their stance and attempt to block the FEA advance, but their momentum is lost. If the FEA keep the pressure on, and with our artillery firing them in, I think that the Loyalists will be in full retreat before the sun sets, possibly moving back under the anti-aircraft bubble around Dakar.’

  The first phase of our mission had been successful. We had managed to stop the FEA line from crumbling, and given them the firepower they needed to attack back into the Bosque. I took no pleasure in our success, though. Gazing sadly over the battle that raged across the river, I realised that the FEA victory had been at a terrible cost.

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  Change in Mission

  The fog descended again as day turned to night, cutting out the starlight and plunging the forest into darkness. The Loyalist bombardment continued; the noise of each salvo sounding louder or quieter as they seemingly struck out at random along the Ghandi.

  We waited in the dark, having moved into the forest on the far bank to a grid given to us by the platoon commander. Rather than getting the entire platoon to congregate together only to be blown to pieces by a single railgun shell, he had given us grids that were close enough for him to call in only the commanders, briefing us up so that we could then return to brief our men. There was always the danger that the command group could be blown to smithereens instead, but at least then our sections were left alive to continue the mission under the control of the 2ics.

  Half of the platoon was still moving in from the north, returning from its recce of Dakar with the sergeant major. We waited for them amongst the ferns, listening to the distant shouting of orders, the woeful cries of injured soldiers out in the marsh, and the never-ending bombardment.

  ‘Don’t they ever get bored?’ Myers asked irritably, as another salvo struck nearby, the fog flashing faintly with each blast. He was inside his thermal bag, his head propped against a tree. I had ordered my section to rest, with half of them sleeping whilst the other kept watch for unwelcome visitors.

  ‘Doesn’t look like it,’ Skelton said, scanning with his mammoth into the mist. ‘Can’t imagine they’re hitting much, though.’

  ‘So what are they shooting at? Just trying their luck? Or …’

  ‘Myers, go to sleep,’ I cut in.

  ‘I can’t sleep,’ he replied. ‘I think I’ve got too much adrenalin in me, you know?’

  ‘You still need to sleep. You don’t know when you’ll next get it.’

  ‘OK.’

  We sat in silence, scanning out into the darkness. I saw Puppy shaking a man out of the corner of my eye, telling him to roll over because he was snoring. Sleep wasn’t lazy, it was good administration, and it was my responsibility as a commander to make sure that my men were well-rested. Unfortunately, though, if a trooper snored, then he could expect to be woken up - a lot.

  ‘Do you believe in aliens?’ Myers asked me suddenly.

  I looked down at the trooper irritably. He was staring up into the fog swirling above the canopy. ‘What are you on about aliens for?’

  He blinked. ‘I was just thinking, if they really were out there, on a planet nearby or something, what they might be thinking - you know - watching us.’

  Skelton whispered, ‘They’d be thinking - “What the fuck are them lot up to?” - that’s what they’d be thinking, mate.’

  He grinned, his teeth just about visible beneath his visor. ‘We’re a pretty messed up people, aren’t we?’

  ‘Myers,’ I said, sounding like a mother scalding her child, ‘if you don’t go to sleep then I’ll swap you with Skelton.’

  ‘I’m cool with that,’ Skelton said, but Myers had already screwed his eyes shut.

  ‘Aliens …’ I exclaimed, shaking my head. ‘We’ve got far worse things to worry about here in the real world than the aliens.’

  Skelton nodded slowly. ‘No shit.’

  I heard somebody brushing through the ferns, and turned to see that Yulia had returned from the river. ‘How’s it looking over there?’ I asked her.

  She crouched beside me, casting a glance back toward the Ghandi. ‘We are trying to establish a permanent crossing, but artillery from Dakar is making it difficult. Each time we attempt to place a bridge, they detect it and destroy it.’

  ‘How?’

  Yulia shrugged. ‘They have many methods. Reconnaissance patrols like yours, observation posts, sometimes local civilians …’

  I raised an eyebrow. ‘Local civilians?’

  She nodded. ‘Sometimes. The people who live in the forest will often choose the side that is winning. The Loyalists will order them to tell them what we are doing, and they will tell them. They just want to survive.’

  ‘So they spy on you? What happens if they get caught?’

  Yulia’s expression hardened. ‘They die. They are executed as traitors.’

  I shook my head in disbelief, unable to believe that the people of the forest were so fickle.

  The captain looked at me almost sympathetically. ‘You are
from a different world, Andy. It is a choice that they make, to fight on the side of the Loyalists. It does not matter why, if we catch them, they are killed anyway.’

  We sat in silence for a few moments, listening to the tortured wails of an abandoned soldier begging for someone to come and kill him. He was from away from us, his pleading cries carrying across the still air. There was nothing that we could do for him, or the tens of others out there, dying in the marsh. God, I thought, what a horrific world we live in.

  ‘You have killed many people, Andy,’ Yulia said, catching my eye, ‘but the suffering of others still causes you pain.’

  ‘You don’t know anything about me,’ I replied gruffly.

  ‘Perhaps not. What do you intend to do now? My people are preparing to advance.’

  I sighed, relieved to change the subject. ‘The rest of our platoon has almost returned from Dakar. Once they arrive, the boss will close in the commanders to deliver his next set of orders.’

  ‘They are the ones who destroyed the artillery batteries dug into the highlands,’ she guessed.

  ‘That’s right.’

  ‘You should use the same abilities against the positions around Dakar. You have the ability to end this war in minutes, but instead it must take days.’

  ‘End it?’ I frowned. ‘We’d be firing shells at your own people.’

  She shrugged indifferently. ‘They chose to stay there.’

  I laughed bitterly. ‘They didn’t chose, Yulia! The Loyalists made them stay. Don’t you get it? The Loyalists want them to stay there, because they know we can’t bomb Dakar whilst they’re there. It’s better than any armour, any burrow – it’s an impregnable human shield.’

  ‘They choose to stay there,’ she argued. ‘They choose not to fight.’

  ‘They choose not to fight, so they deserve to die? Is that how it works on your world? I’m not a good man, I know I’m not, but even I know there’s something wrong in bombing a city full of civilians. If we bomb Dakar, there’ll be Alliance bombs pouring down from the heavens like rain, cities raised to the ground and forests flattened, across the entire planet. You want that?’

  We both seethed with anger, our eyes burning into one another.

  Yulia was first to lower her gaze. ‘No.’ She stood, turning to walk away. ‘I will need to collect Makito,’ she said, ‘he has been speaking with one of our commanders, but he will need to be here for your orders.’

  ‘OK,’ I said curtly.

  I watched the captain wade back through the undergrowth in search of her comrade, her outline slowly fading in the fog.

  ‘Not best of friends, are you?’ Myers asked quietly.

  I glanced down at him. ‘No.’

  There was a piercing whistle, and then the through the fog light flickered as another barrage thumped nearby.

  Skelton turned his head upward, as though he could see the shells passing above us. ‘They’re obsessed with the artillery in Dakar.’

  ‘They will be,’ I agreed, ‘a huge amount of Loyalist artillery is around there. Clearly the Loyalists knew we would get involved eventually, because the FEA clearly don’t care about bombing civilians. Just as well they don’t have artillery.’

  As we spoke, two troopers emerged out of the undergrowth, our visor displays instantly recognising him as friendly. I lifted my head and waved them over, just in case their own visors hadn’t identified us in turn.

  The two troopers were part of the platoon commander’s group; a small fire team that gave him the protection to move independently. The boss often used them to pass verbal messages, removing the need for him to use the net unnecessarily. In battle the Loyalists would struggle to single us out, but out of contact our net chatter could be triangulated, giving them something to zero their guns into. One of the two troopers stopped beside me, crouching down to whisper his message. ‘The other half of the platoon is in. The Boss wants all commanders together for orders.’

  ‘No worries.’

  The trooper looked around warily, lowering his voice even further. ‘He asks for our “friends” not to be present.’

  ‘Oh?’ I couldn’t hide my surprise. ‘Any reason for that?’

  ‘Not sure,’ the trooper said, ‘he’s not happy with something the Presidential Guard are doing.’

  ‘Fair enough.’

  ‘I think Andy and his girlfriend have fallen out anyway,’ Myers said with a grin.

  The trooper laughed quietly. ‘Is she difficult?’

  I held up a hand. ‘Don’t ask.’

  ‘The other section’s been having a hard time with them as well,’ the trooper said. ‘Even the Boss is snapped.’

  ‘Who would have thought the FEA would be a bunch of strokers,’ Myers said sarcastically.

  ‘Yeah,’ I agreed, just as Puppy arrived beside me to see what was going on. ‘Alright mate?’ I asked.

  ‘Not bad,’ he replied softly, stooping over us. ‘What’s going on?’

  ‘I’m going for orders. If Yulia gets back, keep her here.’

  ‘Understood.’

  I reached over and gave Myers a shake. ‘Up you get, mate, I need you to come with me.’

  Myers groaned. ‘Really? I was just falling asleep!’

  I felt no sympathy. ‘Well you should have gone to sleep earlier, but instead you wanted to talk shit about aliens. Puppy, if you take Skelton into your fire team while I’m away, he hasn’t had any rest yet, so give him a chance to get his head down.’

  ‘No worries.’

  Skelton gave Myers a rough pat on the shoulder, as the young trooper pulled himself out of his bag. ‘Unlucky, mate. Lesson learnt.’

  The commanders of the platoon came together in a small clearing, huddling close together in a circle. There were six of us in total - the four section commanders, including me, Mr Barkley, and the sergeant major. Myers and the other escorts all spread out into the forest, keeping watch in case the vulnerable command group attracted unwanted attention.

  ‘I’ll kick this off with a well done,’ Mr Barkley began, regarding each of us in turn. ‘The first phase of the operation has been a major success - all along the river. We’ve managed to bring the Loyalist advance to a halt, and they’ve withdrawn back toward the protective sphere around Dakar to lick their wounds. With their forward battery destroyed, their ability to strike onto the river has been significantly reduced, and we have the sergeant major and his merry men to thank for that. Sergeant Major, care to explain your objective?’

  The sergeant major nodded as all eyes turned to him. ‘As you know, while you were marrying-up with the FEA the night before, my half of the platoon was moving to the north of the Ghandi to locate the forward battery. It didn’t take us long to locate them, thirty kilometres north of the river, since the battery was firing constantly. The artillery pieces were all in the open, and were being moved from site to site by wheeled vehicle. No effort was being made to dig in the weapons; clearly they were intending to move forward with the Loyalist front line. On H-hour, we used our own railgun artillery to destroy the position, following up with a brief small arms engagement …’

  During the brief small arms engagement, the two recce sections and small command group that made up the 2ic’s multiple stormed the Loyalist artillery position. Reeling from the Union shells, the surviving artillery crews made easy targets, and were quickly wiped out by the small band of recce troopers that suddenly emerged out of the forest in a hail of darts, grenades and missiles. Explosives were planted on the remaining guns, destroying the fragile arrays of magnets along their barrels and rendering them useless, before the sections melted back into the forest as suddenly as they had appeared.

  After their successful attack on the Loyalist battery, the multiple split up again, each section taking its own route toward Dakar. They stopped a few kilometres short of the town, screening around it in search of other units and positions that might affect the battle.

  ‘There were several other batteries sited between the river
and Dakar, all of which were either destroyed by six battalion recce or had withdrawn by the time we arrived. It’s my assessment that the Loyalists have retreated to the high ground surrounding Dakar, following the appearance of Union aircraft and artillery. There they have entrenched themselves in anticipation of a major offensive, in the belief that that the civilian population will deter any further Union involvement.’

  The platoon commander then explained the battle we had fought in support of the FEA on the river, talking through each stage so that the other half of the platoon knew what had been happening whilst they were away. It was an important exercise that ensured that all commanders knew the entire battle picture, rather than just their small part in it. Battle space awareness was important, even to a lowly regular trooper, but to a recce commander it was crucial.

  ‘In all,’ he summarised, ‘the day’s activities have been largely successful. The Loyalists have withdrawn back to Dakar, and the FEA have managed to consolidate on the northern side of the river, albeit with significant casualties. That’s an issue for them to deal with. The continuing bombardment from artillery based in Dakar is still hampering their efforts to create a permanent river crossing, and this is delaying their preparations to advance. To be fair to the FEA, they are a determined bunch - every time a bridge gets destroyed then they come out and start constructing another, taking casualties in the process.’

  I imagined the FEA soldiers, young and terrified, trying to assemble the low-tech pontoon bridges that enabled their supply vehicles to cross the river, under constant bombardment. Those poor bastards.

  ‘There is, however, something occurring that concerns me, as well as brigade. Whilst you have been involved in the contact battle, I have been monitoring the FEA forces, their numbers and dispositions. My counterpart in six battalion recce has been doing the same thing to the east. Although the numbers of FEA soldiers are large, with an endless feed of reinforcements being brought up from the south by their supply chain, the same cannot be said for the Presidential Guard. Indeed, apart from a couple of platoons kept in reserve, the high-ranking commanders embedded into the regular units, and the liaison officers working with us, there are barely any of them present on the battlefield at all. The FEA supply chain is assisted by our own logistical units, and none of them have reported any movement of the Presidential Guard to our rear either.