Iron Bonds: The Brotherhood of Echo Unit

Chapter 2: Orders from Above

The desert morning came cold and sharp, slicing through the last threads of sleep.

By 0500 hours, Echo Unit was already awake — the hum of discipline mixed with the ache of routine.

Captain Daniel Mercer zipped up his vest, adjusting his comms wire as the tent lights flickered overhead. He had slept little, haunted by dreams that bled into memories — faces of soldiers he’d once promised to bring home. Promises he hadn’t kept.

Outside, the camp buzzed with tension. Soldiers moved with the kind of efficiency that only came before something dangerous. You could smell it — not fear exactly, but that charged silence before a storm.

Rafe Ortiz tossed a duffel bag into the Humvee, his movements brisk. “You know, I had a dream last night,” he said. “We actually went home after this mission. Sat on a beach. Cold beer, no radio chatter.”

Mercer glanced at him, strapping his helmet on. “You dream too much.”

Rafe smirked. “Somebody’s gotta keep morale alive.”

From the next vehicle, Jace Kavanagh was loading ammo magazines, humming under his breath. He looked too relaxed — a man dancing on the edge of chaos, pretending not to see the drop.

“Where’s Rahman?” Mercer asked.

“Inside the comms tent,” Rafe said. “Command just pinged him. You should hear this, boss.”

Inside the tent, Lieutenant Amir Rahman stood at the radio desk, headphones around his neck, eyes fixed on the static screen. His jaw was locked, the vein at his temple pulsing.

“Status?” Mercer asked.

Amir turned, handing him a printed transmission log. “Orders just came through. They’ve changed the plan.”

Mercer’s eyes narrowed. “Changed how?”

“No longer a recon. Command wants a full assault.”

Mercer’s brow furrowed. “That’s not what we were briefed on. We don’t have the manpower for a direct strike.”

“I told them that,” Amir said tightly. “They said reinforcements are delayed. We’re to proceed regardless.”

Rafe stepped inside, his tone sharp. “So they’re sending us into a fortress — without backup?”

Amir didn’t answer. The silence did it for him.

Jace poked his head through the flap, chewing on a protein bar. “You guys look like you just saw a ghost.”

Mercer held up the paper. “We’ve got new orders.”

“Let me guess,” Jace said. “We’re the bait.”

“Something like that,” Mercer replied.

He scanned the document again, every word feeling heavier than the last. “Echo Unit will infiltrate Sector Nine refinery, secure the central control hub, and hold position until relieved.”

No time. No extraction. No guarantee.

He handed it back to Amir. “They’re setting us up.”

Amir’s gaze was steady. “You think command would—”

“I think command doesn’t care who bleeds as long as someone does.”

The words hit the tent like a gunshot.

Rafe exhaled slowly. “So what now?”

Mercer’s eyes hardened. “We do what we always do. We move. We adapt. We survive.”

By sunrise, Echo Unit rolled out in two Humvees, engines growling through the still air.

The desert was endless again — dunes shimmering like molten glass.

Mercer rode in the passenger seat, eyes scanning the horizon through dust-coated windows. The world outside looked alien, stripped of life.

Eli Navarro sat behind him, gripping his rifle too tightly. The kid hadn’t said a word since the briefing.

“You good back there?” Mercer asked.

Eli nodded, though his voice betrayed him. “Yeah. Just thinking.”

“About what?”

“About home.”

Mercer turned slightly, meeting the young man’s eyes in the mirror. “Keep your thoughts here. Home will wait.”

Eli hesitated. “And if it doesn’t?”

Rafe, driving, gave a soft chuckle. “Then we make one when we get back. Echo’s home enough.”

The radio crackled with static — Amir’s voice from the second Humvee.

“We’re ten klicks out. Still no visual on enemy patrols.”

“Copy that,” Mercer replied. “Stay sharp.”

They drove on. The wind picked up, carrying the taste of sand and metal.

At 0800, they reached Ridge Point, a crumbling overlook that gave them a view of Sector Nine — a sprawling oil refinery half-swallowed by dust and rust. Black smoke twisted from one of the towers, curling into the sky like a warning.

Through his binoculars, Mercer saw figures moving near the gates — armed men, scattered but alert. The kind of fighters who’d die for the ground they stood on, even if it wasn’t worth dying for.

“Jesus,” Jace muttered. “They’ve fortified everything. That’s not just a base — that’s a damn city.”

Rafe wiped sweat from his brow. “You thinking what I’m thinking, Cap?”

Mercer lowered the binoculars. “That command’s feeding us to the wolves?”

“Yeah. That.”

Amir joined them, crouching low with a notepad. “If we take the east service tunnel, we might slip in undetected. But once we’re inside, comms will be down.”

Mercer nodded. “We’ll move at dusk. Set up observation until then.”

They spread out, setting up a small surveillance perimeter along the ridge.

Hours passed in silence, broken only by the click of binocular lenses and the distant hum of the refinery.

Eli sat beside Mercer, adjusting the focus on his scope. “You really think we can take it?” he asked quietly.

Mercer didn’t answer right away. “Doesn’t matter what I think. It matters what we do.”

Eli frowned. “That’s not an answer.”

Mercer turned to him, voice calm. “You want honesty? No, I don’t think we can take it. But that doesn’t mean we don’t try. Our job isn’t to win every battle — it’s to stand long enough for someone else to.”

Eli absorbed that, silent. He looked back through the scope, jaw tight. Something changed in his eyes then — the moment innocence burned away and duty took its place.

When dusk fell, the desert turned blood-red.

Echo Unit moved like ghosts, rifles slung low, footsteps silent against the sand.

They reached the tunnel entrance — half-collapsed, lined with steel ribs and shadow.

Mercer raised his fist. “Comms check.”

One by one, the voices came through.

“Rafe, check.”

“Amir, check.”

“Jace, check.”

“Eli, check.”

They entered.

The air inside was thick and damp, echoing with distant machinery. Every sound felt amplified — each breath, each drip of water.

Rafe muttered, “Feels like walking into a grave.”

Mercer’s voice came low through the dark. “Then keep your head up.”

Halfway through, the tunnel widened into a junction. Pipes hissed with leaking steam. The team fanned out, flashlights cutting through the gloom.

That’s when the radio crackled again — static, broken, then a voice Mercer didn’t recognize.

“Echo Unit, this is Command. Do you copy?”

Mercer froze. “Copy. Go ahead.”

“Change of objective. You are to proceed to the central generator instead of the control hub.”

Mercer frowned. “That’s not in the brief. Who authorized this?”

“You have your orders, Captain. Complete them. Out.”

The line went dead.

Rafe looked at him. “That didn’t sound like HQ.”

Amir’s brow furrowed. “Signal’s bouncing from somewhere nearby. Someone’s hijacking the frequency.”

Mercer felt the chill creep up his spine. “Then we’re not alone down here.”

The lights flickered overhead. Somewhere deeper in the tunnel, metal clanged — deliberate, slow.

Jace raised his rifle. “Movement!”

Mercer motioned for silence. They crouched low, listening.

Then — voices. Not English. Not friendly.

The ambush hit fast. Shadows emerged from the side corridors, gunfire exploding in the dark. The tunnel filled with smoke and shouting.

“Contact front!” Rafe roared, firing blind into the flash of muzzle light.

Eli dropped behind a pipe, returning fire, his hands shaking but steady.

Mercer’s commands cut through the chaos. “Flank right! Amir, cover the rear!”

The fight was brief, brutal. When the last echo faded, five bodies lay still in the tunnel, their blood mixing with the oil on the floor.

Rafe panted, reloading. “They were waiting for us. How the hell—”

Mercer looked down at one of the fallen enemies. The man wore a standard desert uniform — but his radio earpiece was American issue.

A sick realization formed.

“They knew we were coming,” Mercer said quietly. “Command didn’t send us here to win. They sent us here to disappear.”

They stood in silence for a long moment. The weight of betrayal pressed against the walls.

Finally, Rafe broke it. “So what now, boss?”

Mercer looked down the tunnel, toward the distant rumble of machinery. His expression hardened into something colder — not despair, but resolve.

“Now,” he said, chambering a round, “we finish what we started. For us — not for them.”

The men nodded, one by one. Whatever faith they’d had in command was gone. All they had left was each other.

And that, Mercer thought, would have to be enough.