EDEN (The Union Series) (31 page)

‘Brigade doesn’t seem
to think so,’ the platoon commander continued. ‘It seems you were right about
the FEA and the Guard, they are definitely divided. The FEA no longer appear to
be receiving help from the Guard, possibly indicating that they have had some
form of disagreement. The Guard want the FEA to hold back, so they can have the
city for themselves.’

‘And wipe out the
population of Dakar …’ I finished.

‘It would appear that
way. Either way, they appear to be allowing the FEA to carry on in the hope
that their attack fails. They want them to soften up the Loyalists before they
come in to finish off the job.’

I glanced over the
city as a fresh round of grenades launched from the edge of the platform. ‘I
think we’ve done more than “soften up the Loyalists” already!’

He smiled. ‘I agree!
We need to continue to assist the FEA assault, and this command centre looks
like the way to do it. I intend to strike onto it from above, using our ropes to
rappel from the spokes. Hard. Fast. Stacks of grenades. And it’s done.’

‘You realise that
once we’re down there, we’ll never be able to get back out the same way?’

The platoon commander
nodded. ‘I know. We’ll have to hope that the FEA are successful, because
otherwise we’ll have to fight our way out. We didn’t get into this job for a chill--out!’

I stopped for a
second to consider the idea. It was a crazy plan, but it made some sense. If we
withdrew, then the FEA attack was likely to fail, and if we stayed on the roof
then our effect on the battle would rapidly decrease as our ammo ran out. If
the Guard took the city and massacred its entire people, then the Alliance
could easily be led by Edo to believe that the Loyalists and the Union were
killing their colonists, and that in turn might lead to war. I hated the Guard,
and all that they stood for, so spoiling their plan was more than enough for
me.

‘OK,’ I answered,
‘let’s do it.’

I quickly explained
my plan to the section over the net, making sure that Wildgoose knew to remain
on the spokes. He was in his element, now, along with the rest of the snipers.

Mr Barkley patted my
shoulder. ‘Good to go?’

I nodded and the
platoon commander picked himself up, running back toward Corporal Abdi’s
section on the nearest spoke with his signaller in tow, leaving the remainder
of his team to deal with the casualty. By the looks of him he was already dead,
but I decided not to point that out - the platoon commander had enough on his
plate. I followed, and as I did the remainder of my section joined on behind
me, making best speed to where the headquarter building was located.

Smoke billowed from
the buildings on the southern end of the crater, and flames licked up the
walls, telling a tale of the epic battle being fought between the two sides,
street-by-street and room-by-room. Soon we would be joining them in the city, I
thought.

Corporal Abdi was
already in position over the target building, his section tucked behind the lip
of the spoke so that they couldn’t be seen. We didn’t want the Loyalists to
know we were coming until the last safe moment, when the ropes were thrown over
the edge.

I poked my head over
the edge of the spoke, feeling giddy as I looked at the streets far below.

The platoon commander
reached over and pointed out a wide, four-storey building almost directly
beneath us, marking it with a crosshair. ‘It’s there,’ he said.

I looked at him
dubiously. It was an awfully long way down, forty metres according to my visor
display.  Would our ropes even reach that far?

‘What makes this
building so important again?’ I asked.

‘It’s a command
centre,’ Mr Barkley replied. ‘Communications equipment, electronic warfare
equipment, not to mention the commanders themselves. Apparently there’s a
brigadier in there.’

I laughed. ‘He’ll be
kilometres away by now!’

Most, if not all of
the remaining gravtanks and dropships would have made their escape from Dakar,
where their speed and manoeuvrability was greatly reduced. I had no doubt that
any high-ranking officer would have made his escape with them, flying back to
the safety of Europa whilst the remaining aircraft duelled with the FEA
dropships in the hills around the city.

‘Maybe,’ Mr Barkley
conceded, ‘but if we take this command centre, we cut the head off the snake.
The Loyalist commanders are too fearful of punishment to think for themselves -
without their chain of command they’ll simply break and run.’

That was good enough
for me. I ordered my section to prepare the ropes. We had two in total, and
another two handed to us by Corporal Abdi’s 2ic, which meant that we could
insert near enough all at once.

We hooked up the
ropes, whilst Corporal Abdi continued to engage targets across the city. Each
rope was attached to the edge of the spoke, using hooks that had been placed
along its length for just that purpose. During maintenance, city workers would
use ropes so that they could move across the plastic roof, safe in the
knowledge that if it tore open they wouldn’t fall to their deaths. Now that the
roof had been taken away, it was a perfect method for insertion. Once
connected, the ropes were left coiled up, not to be thrown until we were ready
for our descent.

I took one last look
over the edge. We couldn’t fast-rope down, the distance was too great. The
intense heat generated by the friction of sliding the length of the ropes would
simply burn through our gloves before we reached the bottom. Instead we would
need to rappel, and that took time.

It was madness, sheer
madness - but if it was necessary to end the fighting quickly, then it was
probably worth the risk.

I took a deep breath,
nodded to the others, and we cast the ropes off the edge. As we did so, the
entire platoon let rip from across the city, hammering the streets with darts
and grenades in an effort to distract anybody observing from below. It was now
or never - time was ammo after all.

‘I’ll be right behind
you, Andy,’ the platoon commander said, as I hooked myself up and threw my
bodyweight onto the edge, sitting with my boots dangling over the cityscape
below.

‘I’ll see you down
there, then,’ I replied, and pushed away from the spoke, steadily descending
toward the building below.

How we survived the
descent I don’t know. Whether it was because the hail of darts from above
prevented the Loyalists from noticing, or the fact that they never thought that
we would be mad enough to attempt such a risky method of insertion, we
descended unobserved. I felt totally exposed as I plummeted toward the flat
roof of the target building, one hand gripping my rifle, while the other
controlled the rope. Rope was not a good method of insertion, contrary to popular
belief, not on a battlefield anyway - it made you a fantastic target.

My boots struck the
roof hard, and I grimaced as another wave of agony passed over my body,
threatening to make me throw-up inside my respirator. The rest of the fire
team, including Yulia, touched the ground, with Puppy’s fire team following
close behind.

‘You OK, Andy?’ Myers
asked, and I realised that I was standing awkwardly in a subconscious effort to
take away the pain. I felt slightly dizzy.

‘I’m fine,’ I snapped
angrily, turning to survey my new surroundings.

We had landed close
to the edge of the roof, overlooking a wide street littered with burnt out
vehicles and rubble. From above the city it had appeared relatively tranquil,
but now that I was inside the crater I could see the damage it had taken from
the Loyalist occupation. Most of the windows in the buildings across the street
had been smashed, probably by the overpressure created by shells exploding
nearby, and huge chunks of masonry were missing from blackened walls. Dakar was
a warzone, and it had already taken a battering.

There was no way into
the building from the roof, I decided, none that I could see anyway. We needed
a rapid method of entry, and I didn’t have time to search for a ladder or a
hatch. It was a miracle that we had made it down without being spotted in the
first place, and I doubted our fortune would last much longer.

‘Mouse hole!’ I
shouted, and then pointed to the ground at my feet.

Skelton quickly threw
his daysack to the ground, ripping a mouse hole charge from the bundle of kit
and equipment he carried inside. He was more than happy to use the charge,
knowing that every piece of ammunition he used made him slightly lighter on his
feet.

The section quickly
stacked up ready to assault, whilst Skelton placed the charge against the roof.
Just as he finished, the platoon commander landed, quickly disconnecting
himself and stepping away from the rope before Corporal Abdi’s section landed
on top of him.

Happy that the charge
was set, the two of us stepped back, taking our place behind Myers. I didn’t
wait for Mr Barkley to give the word, we were already committed anyway.

‘Skelton, fire!’

Skelton tapped his
datapad, and with a mighty bang the charge exploded in a sudden cloud of smoke,
driving its shaped charge down into the roof.

We didn’t wait for
the smoke to clear, instead we charged up to the hole, as if the noise of the
explosion had set us free.

Myers stuck his rifle
into the hole, searching for targets. ‘Clear! Large office type room!’

I looked over his
shoulder at the drop below. ‘Can you jump it?’

He blinked. ‘Should
be able to …’

It wasn’t worth the
risk, though, we didn’t need more casualties, especially not something as
stupid as a sprained ankle or a fractured foot.

‘Skelton, give me a
hand!’

We gripped Myers by
his daysack straps, using them to lower him over the edge of the hole. I
clenched my teeth and growled at the pain as my arm fully extended, before
letting the trooper drop the rest of the way to the ground.

‘Now me!’ I shouted,
quickly perching myself on the edge.

Skelton grasped me by
one strap of my daysack, while Yulia grasped the other. I looked up at her,
realising that I was so swept up with our attack I had forgotten her; either
that or blood loss was effecting my concentration. I wondered why she was
helping, and then cast the thought aside - I needed to go with it. Skelton was
keeping an eye on her, and that would have to do.

I shuffled my weight
off the edge, and Myers grasped me by the legs as I was lowered to the ground.

It was indeed some
kind of office building, not entirely dissimilar from the Citadel building I
had fought through on Nieuwe Poort.

Yulia was next to be
lowered into the building, and I eyed her suspiciously as I helped her down,
waiting for the sudden glint of a knife to finish me off.

As soon as her boots
stuck the ground she pushed out into the room, facing outward for hidden
threats amongst the empty offices.

The section piled in
after her, followed shortly afterwards by Mr Barkley.

‘So far, so good,’ he
said as he landed.

He spoke too soon.
There was a shriek of magnets on the roof as Corporal Abdi’s section opened
fire on something in the city.

‘Contact! It’s a
suit!’

Corporal Abdi’s order
was shrill: ‘Smart missile! Now!’

The boss and I looked
at each other in alarm, just as the section above us released a volley of
grenades.

There was a bang as a
missile was fired, and Corporal Abdi’s section piled through the hole, each
trooper tumbling into a heap in the middle of the room in their haste to escape
the Loyalist suit, the used launcher clattering onto the floor beside them.

‘Shit!’ one of them
swore. ‘I think I broke a rib!’

‘Shut up, you bell
end,’ Corporal Abdi scalded, brushing dust from his combats as we helped them
all to their feet.

‘We need to move,’ Mr
Barkley urged me. ‘
Now!
’

I needed no
encouragement, quickly spotting the building staircase. Normally such a method
of movement was unwise, but I doubted that the Loyalists expected us to enter
from the roof.

I charged toward the
staircase, bursting through a glass door on the way. Boots pounded as we
stormed down the stairs, weapons bristling from our formation in anticipation
of the enemy.

Sure enough, there
was a confused commotion at the foot of the stairs, and I tossed a grenade over
the banister, allowing it to tumble onto the hapless Loyalists below.

‘Grenade!’ one of
them screamed, but it would have been too late to react, for the detonation cut
him short. Glass panels cracked with the sudden explosion, but we continued to
hurtle downward toward our quarry, our boots pounding against the staircase as
we went.

The Loyalists I had
dropped the grenade onto weren’t on the bottom of the staircase - they were
atop a makeshift sandbag platform that blocked us off from the ground floor.
Two of them had died on top of the platform, riddled with holes, while another
was slumped over the edge of a hatch - his bloody body slumped over a reel of
razor wire.