EDEN (The Union Series) (21 page)

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destroyed by six battalion recce or had withdrawn by the time we arrived.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withdrawn back to Dakar, and the FEA have managed to consolidate on the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.

‘I have spoken with
brigade on the matter, who have in turn raised it with EJOC. Eden Joint Command
has strong reason to believe that all of the Guard are deployed. How they have
that information we will never know, but they are adamant that the Guard is
somewhere out here with us in its entirety. This puzzle has obviously raised
some eyebrows, as monitoring FEA and Guard movements are as important to us as
that of the Loyalists if we are to steer this war to a favourable and peaceful
solution. In response, our eyes in orbit have turned to search the region for
the missing units, discovering clues to suggest vehicle and troop movements
within the highlands. The Eden weather and the cover provided by the forest
make it difficult to confirm this, but we now believe that the Presidential Guard
are conducting some kind of operation in the west.

‘The thing that makes
this so alarming is that the FEA clearly don’t want us to be aware about this,
and have gone through great lengths to conceal their actions. Brigade has asked
us to investigate the situation off to the west, in order to confirm the
Guard’s presence there, as well as ascertain what they are up to. This is an
additional task we have been given, our main effort lying with the close target
recce, and potentially the attack of Dakar itself.’ He turned directly to me. ‘Lance
Corporal Moralee, you will take your section to recce the west.’

I looked up at him.
‘Yes, Sir.’

‘I will give you some
grid locations for you to look around in a moment. Your liaison officer will
come with me, clearly I don’t want her to know where you’re going.’

I nodded. ‘OK. What
do you want me to tell her?’

‘Just tell her you’ve
been sent to patrol the river to search for Loyalist units left behind during
the withdrawal. She is to come with us to provide assistance in our recce of
Dakar. I’m sure she’ll be far more interested in that anyway.’

‘No worries.’

The platoon commander
addressed the rest of the platoon. ‘The remainder of us will move north toward
the town. There we will conduct separate recces onto the area in preparation of
the FEA attack. Taking Dakar will be a complicated operation, requiring a great
deal of co-ordination and planning, an area in which our new allies are
lacking. The effectiveness of our recce and the recommendations we give to
their commanders will be pivotal. Any questions on the overall plan?’

There were none. Mr
Barkley then went through the plan again, breaking each phase of the operation
down with key timings, grids and tasks so that we could record them on our datapads.
It was a process that took almost another hour, ensuring that everybody knew
exactly what he and everyone else was doing. We would be maintaining total net
silence during the operation, so it was critical that everyone understood his
orders fully. There was no scope to ask questions once we got going.

After the orders were
finished, Mr Barkley sent the commanders away to brief their men, keeping me
behind.

‘Are you happy with
the plan?’ he asked.

I took a quick look
down at my datapad, using a finger to quickly scroll through my notes. ‘Yes, Sir.’

‘Don’t take this task
lightly,’ he urged, ‘we need to remember that Edo is still a rogue state, and
hardly a friend of the Union. We need to watch them as closely as we do the
Loyalists.’

I nodded.

He looked about, as
though the trees might be listening. ‘I don’t trust these people, Andy. I’ve
been working with their commanders all day, every one of them from the Presidential
Guard. They’re hiding something, I can sense it, and it has something to do
with the highlands.’

‘What do you think
they’re doing?’

The platoon commander
paused to think. ‘It looks as though they’re sneaking a large force up the
western flank, ready to pounce onto the Loyalists when their attention is
turned to us in the south. What doesn’t make sense, though, is their attempts
to conceal it from us.’

‘They don’t trust us.
Yulia - my liaison officer - thinks we won’t bomb Dakar because we secretly
support the Loyalists.’

He waved his hand
dismissively. ‘That’s just low-level gossip and rumour within their ranks, I’m
not surprised by that, but their headquarters are not so naïve. There’s another
reason behind them being so secretive.’

‘I’ll see what I can
find out.’

‘Good. Just be
careful, and remember, if you get into any trouble then help is only on the
other end of the net. Ditch the net silence and get in touch, but only as a
last resort.’

‘OK.’

Mr Barkley hesitated,
as though he was reluctant to let me go. ‘Take it easy, Andy.’

I slung my rifle and
stood. ‘I will.’

With that, I left the
clearing, collecting Myers before making my way back to brief the section.

The platoon moved out
just before midnight, taking advantage of the thick fog that had descended upon
the forest. As the four sections prepared themselves to move, the commanders
came together for one final time. Yulia was there too, along with Makito and
the other Presidential Guard liaison officers that had been split across the
platoon. We all eyed them warily, our trust in them damaged, and I was
genuinely glad not to be in the company of Yulia and her bodyguard for my
patrol.

Fortunately the two Guardsmen
had returned just after I delivered my brief to the section, and Yulia didn’t
even raise an eyebrow when I told her the cover story.

‘The situation hasn’t
changed significantly since we last came together,’ Mr Barkley explained. ‘The
FEA are still struggling to move forward, being harassed by artillery fired
from Dakar. A strong line of air defence has all but grounded any dropships
over the river.’

‘That is a problem
that can easily be solved,’ Yulia said provokingly, and several of the liaison
officers nodded their heads in agreement.

The small group of
commanders bristled in anger, but Mr Barkley didn’t rise to it. ‘Perhaps, but
we work with what we have.’ He turned to us. ‘Remember, recce the locations you
have been assigned, and then aim to return to the platoon rendezvous before
midnight tomorrow. Avoid contact at all costs - remember that this is a recce
patrol now, and nobody gets points for kills.’

We nodded.

‘Andy,’ he then
addressed me. ‘Make sure you conduct a good sweep, and stay out of harm’s way.’

The platoon commander
couldn’t speak to me properly in front of Yulia - she couldn’t know that I was
moving out to conduct a recce on the highlands, and not sweeping for Loyalist
stragglers.

‘I will, Sir,’ I
replied, eager to get moving. I had a large amount of ground to cover, and not
much time to do it in.

‘Good,’ he regarded
all of us in turn. ‘Good luck, all of you. Let’s go.’

As the commanders dispersed
to their sections, the sergeant major grabbed me by the shoulder, his black
eyes glaring intensely. ‘Take it easy,’ he hissed, mindful not to be heard by
Yulia as she left with the other liaison officers, ‘and don’t take any
unnecessary risks. I don’t trust these fuckers.’

‘Me neither.’

‘Keep your eyes
peeled. Understand?’

‘I will.’

Seemingly assured, he
gave my shoulder a pat, and then he was gone. Without a moment to spare, I returned
to my section and took my position at its front.

‘Prepare to move,’ I
ordered softly, and waited for the message to pass before I slipped into the
undergrowth.

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Recce

None of the FEA noticed
my section snaking between their positions in the dark, marching toward the
highlands on the western fringes of the Bosque. They were too pre-occupied by
the reorganisation of their battered companies, as well as the constant
bombardment from the Loyalists.

The sound of the
endless shelling grew quieter as we drew away from the river, until it was
barely audible.

We didn’t stop for
rest, trekking for tens of kilometres until we reached the highlands, before
following valleys and re-entrants that led us up into the hills with maximum
cover from view and fire.

Using the map on my
datapad, I picked out a hill that appeared to afford an unobstructed view into
the surrounding countryside, altering my course toward it. Hopefully I could
reach the summit of the hill before dawn, using the vantage point to spot any
sign of the Presidential Guard.

As I drove my section
up the slope, I wondered what the Guard were up to, and why they might want to
hide their activity in the highlands from us. Were they planning to attack us?
They certainly didn’t need such a large force to do that. Yulia and her
bodyguard, Makito, could have shot us in the back hours ago if they’d wanted to.
Why was it so important that we didn’t find their forces?

We were patrolling
along a narrow re-entrant carpeted by ferns, when I heard Skelton hiss at me
from behind. Myers and I froze instantly. I turned to see Skelton kneeling in
the ferns, gesturing downward with his hand to tell us both to get down. We
quickly dropped onto one knee, and my heart thumped as I raised my rifle to
scan my arcs. The forest either side of the re-entrant was silent, the only faint
noise being that of artillery shells detonating far behind us.

I looked to Skelton,
holding up both hands
- what?

The trooper shrugged,
then jerked a thumb rearward. For some reason Puppy’s fire team had called for
us to halt.

Somebody caught
Skelton’s attention from further back in the undergrowth, and he gestured for
me to close in by tapping his helmet.

I stood carefully,
then crept back the way I had come to find out what had happened. We could have
spotted enemy, or one of our troopers might have tripped on a rock and hurt his
ankle. Neither scenario was a good one, and I dreaded finding out the reason
for our sudden halt.

Puppy was crouched
beside Wildgoose at the rear of the patrol, gazing into the darkness behind us
with a concerned look upon his face.

‘What’s going on?’ I
whispered.

‘Goose picked
something up on his scanner,’ the section 2ic replied.

I frowned. ‘Where?’

Wildgoose pointed
back down the hill and into the darkened forest. ‘Down there. It was just a
blip, barely even a second.’

‘Any idea what it
was?’

‘No. It was pretty
distant, maybe three, four hundred metres away. You get false readings
sometimes, it just gave me a start when the scanner went off.’

I squinted into the
darkness. It was a pointless exercise, if my visor couldn’t see anything, then
it was doubtful my eyes would do much better in the dark. ‘And you’ve had
nothing since?’

‘No.’

I held my breath to
listen. The forest was eerily silent. Even the wind had momentarily ceased, as
though Mother Nature had also stopped to see what had created the blip on
Wildgoose’s scanner. My respirator motors whirred quietly in the background,
threatening to drive me mad. 

The three of us
stared for a few moments, waiting for something to happen, but there was
nothing.

‘It was probably just
a false reading,’ Wildgoose said again.

Puppy nodded his
agreement. ‘The scanners are good, but they’re not perfect.’

To be fair, the other
section scanner, carried by Myers, hadn’t picked up anything. Myers was young,
jumpy and energetic - if he had spotted even the slightest blip on his scanner
then I knew he would have said so.

‘We won’t take any
chances,’ I decided finally. ‘We’ll wait here for five minutes, keep our eyes
out, then if nothing happens then we’ll carry on. We’ll put a dog-leg in to
throw anyone off if they’re following.’

‘Fair enough,’ Puppy
agreed.

We waited anxiously,
but there were no sounds or further readings on the scanner. After five minutes
I moved back to Myers, instructing him to change our course.

‘Do you think we’re
being followed?’ he asked before he set off.

I cast a glance back
into the dark. ‘I hope not.’

Just as I had hoped,
we reached the summit of the hill before the sun rose, finding a position on a
ridge that overlooked the valleys around us. We couldn’t pick up any thermal
signatures from the forest far below, though that didn’t necessarily mean
anything. If the Presidential Guard really were trying to move up along the
western flank without being detected by us and our ships, then they would be
smart enough to at least camouflage all of their equipment with thermal
sheeting. I decided to wait until the sunrise, hoping that they might have left
visual clues to their movements.

‘Any more readings?’
I asked Wildgoose, and the sniper shook his head.

Good, I thought, if
anyone had been following behind us, then we had thrown them off our scent. It
was true that our scanners could be temperamental, sometimes collecting false
reading from plants and abnormalities in the weather. We just had to hope that
was the case.

We watched in silence
as the sun slowly rose over the highlands, casting long, dark shadows across
the valleys. It was an incredible view. The morning mist rose from the trees,
hugging the folds in the land as it slowly poured from the highlands and down
toward the Ghandi below. Like a shimmering silver snake, the great river
meandered through the Bosque, joining with other rivers across the forest as it
made its way toward the glittering spires of Paraiso in the distance. I could
just make out other cities, including the single spire of Dakar. It was easy to
forget that at the foot of that magnificent spire was an assortment of Loyalist
artillery, and the staging point of their assault into the Bosque. Amongst the
stunning green expanse of forest a brutal war was being fought, where only the
dead could find peace. I longed for peace, but I knew I would never find it on
Eden; the beautiful landscape contained nothing but horror and misery.

‘I can’t see
anything,’ Puppy said, snapping me out of my trance.

‘Me neither,’ I
agreed, ‘though I suppose we shouldn’t have expected to see much. They’re not
idiots.’

‘No,’ he sighed
deeply. ‘What are you thinking?’

I supped on my
drinking straw, gazing out across the highlands. There were several maglev
rails visible running through the valleys, as well as the odd wind turbine or
building, but other than that there was nothing to see. We could wait on the
ridge for days and see nothing.

‘Aasha village isn’t
far from here,’ I said.

Puppy considered the
suggestion. ‘You want to go down there?’

‘The Loyalists will
have pulled out from there by now,’ I pointed out, ‘especially if there really
is a Guard army nearby. Maybe the villagers might know something.’

He looked at me as
though I was mad. ‘You want to go and ask them?’

‘Not necessarily,’ I
replied irritably, ‘but do you have a better idea?’

Puppy paused for a
moment. ‘No.’

‘Well there you go,
then. Shall we get moving?’

We hadn’t moved further
than a few hundred metres from the ridge when Skelton called for me to stop
again; Wildgoose had picked up another signal.

‘It’s the same
thing,’ the trooper said as I joined him and Puppy once more, this time
bringing Myers with me. ‘A small blip, just for a second,’ Wildgoose explained,
pointing back along our trail. ‘Seven hundred metres behind us.’

I turned to Myers,
who waved his arms in front of him as he navigated through his scanner menu. ‘I’m
not getting anything,’ he said finally.

I stared into the
trees thoughtfully. Was there really someone behind us? None of us spoke.

Wildgoose was first
to break the silence. ‘Maybe my scanner’s on the blink?’

‘Not necessarily.’

‘Then why isn’t Myers
getting anything?’

‘Some scanners are
slightly more sensitive than others,’ Puppy explained for me, ‘and the reading
is right on the extremity of our range. I’m surprised we’re picking it up at
all.’

‘So why is it just a
tiny blip?’

I shrugged. ‘Could be
a lot of things: a faulty rifle battery; somebody with their patrol net left on
by mistake … or it could be nothing at all.’

Puppy glanced at me.
‘Can we afford to take that risk?’

I considered the
question. If it really was nothing, then we could waste hours trying to throw a
phantom pursuer off our scent. If it wasn’t, though, and we really were being
followed through the forest, then the consequences of ignoring it could be
catastrophic. It was all about risk and impact. The risk was great, but the
impact was greater.

‘No,’ I answered, ‘we
can’t. We need to assume that somebody is following us, and make best efforts
to lose them.’

‘And if we can’t?’

I regarded my section
2ic coldly. ‘We kill them and extract.’

Skelton gulped.

‘Right, let’s get
moving before our new friends catch up with us.’

We set off again,
changing course toward the north. I altered our direction every few hundred
metres, trying to be as random and unpredictable as I could. If Wildgoose had
detected someone, then there was no doubt in my mind that we were being
tracked. Somebody, be it a lone individual, or a platoon of FEA soldiers, was
following the trail that we left behind. Supposedly the FEA had some excellent
trackers, trained to follow the trail of clues we left as we cut our way
through the forest, from boot prints in the soil, to snapped twigs and bent
plant stalks. It was a skill they had developed during the guerrilla war, to
hunt down and avoid Union patrols on the Paraiso border.

After several hours
of hard marching through the forest, there was no repeat of the strange reading
picked up by Wildgoose. I wasn’t taking any chances, though. To ensure that
nobody was following, I led the section toward a disused maglev rail that ran
toward Aasha village. The lines hadn’t been in use since before the Loyalists attacked,
and the ground beneath the single rail was covered by concrete - which meant
that we would leave no tracks. We could move parallel to the rail for a few
kilometres, before breaking back into the forest, taking effort to make sure we
left no ground sign for any would be tracker to follow.

We followed the rail
for several minutes, snaking through the valley, before I noticed something to
my front. I held up a hand for the others to stop.

It was a train,
stopped just around a bend in the line. As Myers and I crept forward I could
see that it had been attacked, for each carriage was riddled with dart holes,
and the glass windows had been smashed through. Apart from the holes it looked
pretty clean, as though it had only just been washed. I figured that it
couldn’t have been there for longer than a couple of days. I supposed that the
Loyalists had kept the maglevs going, using them to ferry their soldiers and
equipment. They intended to keep the Bosque for their own after all, so there
was no point in ruining the infrastructure.

We patrolled past the
train cautiously, scanning each of the carriages as we passed them. It looked
as though a platoon of soldiers had opened fire on it at point blank range,
peppering it with darts as it sped past. The train must have then lost power
and fallen onto the rail beneath it, coming to a screeching halt.

A couple of carriages
were spattered with blood, and I had no doubt that I would find bodies if I
went inside. I didn’t have to wait long before I found the first unfortunate
passengers anyway. There were several of them, piled in a heap around the rear
carriage.