The Kurgan War: First Strike Part 24

The warrior said, "My rifle was taken away because I did not deserve it. And I had been made to fast for a week as part of my penance. When my time of spiritual reflection is over, I will be given back my weapon and welcomed back into my unit. I just couldn't take being hungry anymore and had to have some food."

Cole said, "I'm not sure I believe everything he's saying, but one thing is for sure. He may be a religious fanatic, but he knows fear. His hesitation in combat is a sure sign that they're not all willing to needlessly throw their lives away."

"I doubt we could learn anything of value from him. He's probably just some foot soldier from a Kurgan infantry regiment and doesn't know anything other than what his officer tells him."

Cole looked down. "What do you want to do with him? We can't let him go back to his own lines. He's hungry, tired and scared, but you've spoken their language to him. Regardless of the punishment he'll face for leaving his post, you know that he'll report this incident to his superiors."

"I know," replied Sheridan, letting out a weary sigh.

"Give him the food in your hand."

Sheridan tossed the warrior the tube of paste. "Well, I'm not for tying him up and walking away. That didn't work out so well last time."

"Sir, if you're thinking what I believe you are, we've had this conversation before." Before Sheridan could say a word, Cole stepped forward and fired his pistol twice, instantly killing the soldier as he ate his meal. His body tumbled over onto the ground. Blood trickled out from underneath the body.

"Jesus, Sergeant, why the h.e.l.l did you do that?" Sheridan demanded.

"Because you can't," Cole replied coldly. "You're a good man. I won't let you soil your hands by killing a prisoner in cold blood."

"But you can?"

Cole didn't answer the question. Instead, he grabbed the dead soldier by his collar and dragged his body into the woods. He returned a minute later, kicking fresh snow over the top of the long red streak of blood that led away from their fire. Without making eye contact with Sheridan, Cole kicked out their fire. "We can't stay here. They may come looking for the deserter. We need to put some distance between ourselves and the body."

Sheridan was conflicted. He would have done the same thing. The Chosen couldn't be allowed to live. Why Cole had taken upon himself to kill the man gnawed at Sheridan. He was the officer; the responsibility should have been his. Clenching his jaw tightly, Sheridan decided to let it go for now. It wouldn't help them to argue over the death of the soldier. It was, however, a conversation he intended to have with Cole when the mission was over.

After trudging through the snow for another ten kilometers, Sheridan was about to tell Cole that they should take a break when he heard someone speaking English over a loud speaker. Cole heard it too and pointed at a small hill. Both men ran to the mound and carefully crawled up to the top so they could see what was going on.

"What the h.e.l.l?" muttered Sheridan when he looked out onto an open field and saw several dozen men in filthy and torn clothing being addressed by a Chosen warrior. A platoon of Chosen guarded the prisoners, their weapons at the ready in their hands.

"Those are Marines," Cole said.

The words of the Chosen soldier were clear and easy to hear from their hiding spot. "This is your last chance. Don't be fooled by the lies your officers told you. You can't win this war, not while your political leaders safe on Earth use you as cannon fodder. You all deserve better. Join the Kurgan Empire as willing volunteers and you can serve the Lord by spreading his word throughout the galaxy."

"Get stuffed!" defiantly called out one of the Marines.

"Yeah, like he said," added another.

"Men, it doesn't have to end this way. Please, think of your families. Join us," implored the Chosen soldier.

"Never," yelled one of the prisoners.

"Fine, have it your way," replied the Chosen warrior. He stepped back, raised his hand and then quickly lowered it. The sound of automatic weapons firing cut through the air. In seconds, it was over. All of the prisoners lay on the frozen ground. Steam escaped into the frigid air from the holes shot into their bodies.

Sheridan watched as the Chosen warrior walked among the dead killing the wounded with a single shot to the head. He had seen enough. He backed off the hill and swore revenge.

Cole moved over to Sheridan's side. "This nightmare can't end soon enough. Come on, sir, we should keep moving."

Sheridan nodded his head and began to follow in Cole's tracks through the woods. He shared Cole's sentiments that he wanted this to end, but not before he had killed as many Chosen as he could.

Chapter 39.

With a loud whoop, Lloyd ran out onto the flight deck to welcome the rest of the squadron's newly arrived pilots and navigators. Tarina and Wendy quickly joined in the festive greeting. They traded stories over a late supper before proceeding back to the hangar.

Colonel Wright was waiting for them. "Ok, everyone, settle down. I'm just as happy to see you too, but we've got work to do and not a lot of time to get it done." A 3D holographic image of Derra-5 and the Kurgan fleet appeared in front of the young officers. "Folks, in precisely twenty-eight hours this is where we will be going. We have been tasked by Sixth Fleet to be the first ships in the invasion armada to engage the enemy above Derra-5."

A captain with a puzzled look on his face said, "Sir, we're a reconnaissance unit. Our ships aren't configured for combat. You said so yourself, back on Earth."

"All true, Ryan; however, we won't be jumping in to duke it out with the enemy. We are going to deliver several high yield electromagnetic pulse bombs near the enemy's carriers and destroyers. If successful, these vessels will be knocked out of commission, floating helpless in s.p.a.ce, just as our own carriers arrive in orbit. We've already proven that you can jump with a payload attached to the undercarriage of an Avenger, so this should be a relatively easy a.s.signment."

Major Fareed said, "Surely, Colonel, their ships will be shielded against an EMP attack."

Wright smiled. "They most probably are. However, these experimental EMP bombs are five times more powerful than anything that existed in our fleet's a.r.s.enal when the war began. I have been a.s.sured that they will be able to cripple the enemy's ships once they are activated. To make sure that we put them out of commission, we will be placing two bombs per carrier and one per warship. That makes for a total of seven Avengers that will be used in this attack."

Fareed said, "Sir, we could only bring eight ships with us. The other four developed engine problems and were still being worked on when we left Earth."

"It'll have to do," replied Wright. "It at least gives us a spare, should one of the other craft develop a technical problem between now and the time we jump. For the new arrivals, I expect you to review the reports written by your colleagues. Don't be afraid to lean on them for advice." Wright turned off the image of Derra-5. He stepped forward and locked his steely gaze on his people. "Folks, we're only going to get one chance to do this. If we don't succeed, there's a good chance that the Sixth Fleet may not be able to sweep the enemy away from the planet when the landing craft packed when Marines and their equipment arrive. Just so we're all on the same sheet of music. I don't intend to fail...and neither do you!"

Light years away, Admiral Sheridan sat in his command chair and listened to the reports as they came in. One by one, the ships reported their readiness. When General Denisov said that his Marines were tired of being cooped up in their landing craft and were ready to kick some a.s.s, Admiral Sheridan knew that it was time. He turned to his operations officer, "Captain, give the order for the fleet to make the jump."

Calculated down to the last second, the ships under his command would arrive in three successive waves ready to do battle with the enemy. If Colonel Wright and his people failed, he felt that he could still drive the Kurgans away from the planet long enough for the Marines to make it down to the surface. After that, he couldn't guarantee a thing. It was going to be desperate and close in battle in which the individual ship's captains had more control over the action than he ever would. He had given his orders, now it was up to the people under his command to execute those orders.

"The first strike force is making the jump," announced Captain Killam.

"Please, let me know when the last ship has jumped," Admiral Sheridan replied.

A couple of seconds later, his vessel, the command ship of the second strike force, engaged its jump engine and began the flight to Derra-5.

Admiral Sheridan stood up and moved over to the screen showing a tactical display of the Sixth Fleet's movement. Excluding General Denisov's Marines, who would be arriving one hour after the first ships arrived over Derra-5, all of Sixth Fleet was preparing for battle.

"Sir, they're all away," reported Killam.

Admiral Sheridan nodded his head. He looked into the faces of the experienced officers and chiefs who made up his staff. "Well, it's out of our hands now. When we come out of our jump, we'll either be facing two crippled carriers or two enemy carriers ready for battle. Either way, I know that every man and woman in the fleet knows their job and will do what they must to secure victory."

"Amen to that," added his aide, who crossed herself and then said a silent prayer.

Admiral Sheridan looked over at Commander Roy. "Carmen, I'm not one to ask the Almighty for support, but if you're chatting with him could you ask him to protect the men and women of the fleet?"

Roy nodded her head and kept on praying. The room went quiet. Everyone turned their heads and looked over at Roy until she was done. "Ok, I've done all I can. It's over to you now," said Roy to the people in the room.

Admiral Sheridan grinned. "You heard the lady. Everyone back to work. We've got a battle to win."

Chapter 40.

Sheridan lay on his stomach watching a group of Chosen soldiers move about outside of a cl.u.s.ter of white camouflaged tents and vehicles trying to keep warm. Snow had been falling for the past few hours. With the sky covered by leaden clouds, it didn't look like it was going to let up anytime soon.

"What do you think?" Cole asked.

"From the number of antennas and dishes spread out down there, it looks like it could be the jamming station," replied Sheridan. "We're in the right spot according to the map. However, from the way its set-up, it could just as easily be a headquarters or an administrative hub. There's really only one way to be sure. I've got to get down there and take a look around."

Cole glanced at his watch. "We've got less than fourteen hours left."

"I know. There's nothing more you can do, so why don't you go and rendezvous with the remainder of the team. Get them ready while I poke my nose around. I'll link up with you in two to three hours' time. If I don't show, hope that we got it right and burn this place to the ground."

Cole held out his hand. "Good luck and don't do anything stupid. I'll see you in a couple of hours."

Sheridan shook Cole's hand. From his pack, he pulled out a set of Chosen winter white coveralls. He had sewn up the bullet holes and cleaned off the blood from the outfit as best he could. The smell coming off the coveralls, however, was repellent. Sheridan doubted that they had ever been cleaned. He quickly checked the outfit for small grub-like lice that infested many of the sets of clothing they had been given to wear. Garcia had told him that the lice were attracted to body heat and were harmless. Still, the thought of the bugs next to his skin made him shudder. Once he was happy that there were no lice on his coveralls, he quickly pulled them over the top of his civilian clothes. Next, he rea.s.sembled his Chosen rifle and slung it over his shoulder.

Carefully, he moved to the edge of the forest and waited until he was sure no one was looking in his direction. Sheridan decided there was no time like the present and sauntered out of the woods as if he didn't have a care in the world. He was thankful for the snow coming down as it allowed him walk with his head down, avoiding eye contact with anyone he might pa.s.s. His pulse raced as he walked nearer to the Chosen encampment. He strained to listen to what was being said, hoping to discover the nearby installation's true ident.i.ty. As he got closer, he noticed that many of the Chosen soldiers looked like they had been injured. Some had bandages over one eye, while many more had their hands swathed in bandages. It became clear that these men had replaced the ones that had originally been here. Like the Marines dug in at the capital, the Chosen were becoming desperate for fresh soldiers and had resorted to using rear echelon troops on the front lines.

"You there, where do you think you're going?" bellowed a voice.

Sheridan stopped and looked over at a tall, broad-shouldered Chosen sergeant who was eyeing him suspiciously. "I was told to report for guard duty," answered Sheridan.

"I don't know you. What's your name?"

"Kimdar," stammered Sheridan.

"I wasn't told you would be coming here. You look fit enough, though. Why aren't you with your unit?"

Sheridan's heart pounded away like a jackhammer in his chest. He had to come up with a convincing lie and fast. The first thing that flashed through his mind was frostbite, but he didn't know the Kurgan word for it. The sergeant stared at Sheridan. In desperation, he blurted out, "I froze some of my toes, Sergeant."

The big soldier shook his head. "Another one! Why the Lord didn't give you people the brains to look after your feet is beyond me. Come with me, Kimdar."

"Yes, Sergeant," replied Sheridan, hoping that this would be the end of the sergeant's questions. He followed the soldier inside a large, heated tent. The smell of something being cooked on a gas stove filled the tent. Sheridan's stomach grumbled.

"Hungry, eh? We'll get something to eat and then report to that man over there," said the sergeant, pointing to a corporal sitting behind a desk on the far side of the shelter. "Where are you from, Kimdar? I can't place your accent."

Sheridan broke out in a cold sweat. Desperately he tried to recall the name of the Chosen planet he was told was just on the enemy side of the Disputed Zone. "Kollos," replied Sheridan, eyeing the nearest exit.

"Never been there," said the sergeant with a shrug of his shoulders. "Not that it matters. Get yourself some soup and then report in."

Sheridan let out his breath, nodded his head and did as he was told. With a hot bowl of odd-smelling soup in his hands, he walked over and gave his name to the corporal sitting at his desk. He was told to take a seat and wait until he was called for. Sheridan looked around the tent, spotted a tired-looking Chosen soldier resting on a bench and decided to sit with him. Perhaps he knew what they were guarding.

"Afternoon," said Sheridan to the man as he took a seat.

"h.e.l.lo," replied the man. He had blonde hair and a scraggly beard. His dark-blue eyes looked tired and war-weary.

"My name is Kimdar," Sheridan said.

"Kesmon," replied the soldier.

Sheridan tried the soup. It was a little bland but tasted good enough. "Kesmon, have you been here long?" Sheridan asked the man.

"I got here last week after I burnt my hands trying to put out a fire," the blonde-haired soldier replied, showing Sheridan his bandaged hands.

"That looks painful."

"It is a small price to serve the Lord," the man answered.

"Yes, indeed. I got careless and froze my feet."

"We have a lot of cold casualties coming through here. Some stay, some are sent back to one of the hospital ships in orbit while others volunteer to go back to the front. It all depends on the extent of their injuries."

"They won't keep me here for too long. I expect to rejoin my unit in a day or two," Sheridan said, trying to sound keen to get back into the fight.

"I tried to volunteer, but I was told that my wounds haven't healed enough for me to leave yet. So I waste my time along with everyone else guarding this place."

"We all serve the Lord, in whatever we do."

"Yes, we do."

Sheridan decided to push his luck. "By the way, what is this place we are guarding? I wasn't told what I was going to be doing, other than guard duty, when I was dropped off here."

The blonde-haired soldier looked around to make sure no one was listening to their conversation. Quietly, he said, "We don't talk about it. The officers lose their minds when you do."

"Do you know why?"

"They don't say why, but we figure it has to do with the top-secret gear they have here to jam the humans' communications. I heard that it also stops all of their electronics from working as well. Trust me, my friend, if you know what's good for you, you'll never ask another question about this place ever again. They whipped a soldier in front of us yesterday, for falling asleep on duty. They found him in a restricted part of the camp. He was only trying to keep warm, but they decided to make an example of him and whipped him anyway. So just keep your mouth shut and do as you're told. Lord willing you'll be back with your unit in a couple of days' time."

"Thanks for the advice," said Sheridan. He quickly finished off his meal, placed the bowl down and then as stealthily as he could, he snuck out of the tent. He glanced around and saw that the sergeant was nowhere to be seen. Sheridan, however, could hear the NCO berating some men behind a long vehicle with five antennas sticking out of the top of it. He took it as his cue to leave and began to walk towards the woods and safety. Suddenly, he heard his bogus Chosen name being yelled out. His swore under his breath and slowly turned around. It was Kesmon.

"Kimdar, where are you going? They might call your name. The corporal is not very forgiving. You wouldn't want to get into trouble with him on your first day here. I wasn't joking when I said they whip people here," said Kesmon as he walked towards Sheridan.

"I'll be there in a minute. When I got off my ride, I dropped my pack by the woods. Do me a favor and tell the corporal that I'm just going to grab my gear and will return right away. I shouldn't be more than a couple of minutes."

"Let me give you a hand."

Sheridan tried to get the man to leave. "I'll be alright. Besides with the injuries to your hands, you really shouldn't try lifting anything heavy."

Kesmon persisted. "It's ok, besides I could use the fresh air."

Sheridan shrugged his shoulders and began to walk towards the trees. When they were a few meters away, Sheridan turned to face Kesmon. "Say, I really appreciate your offer of help; however, I can take it from here."

Kesmon hesitated for a second. "If I didn't know any better I'd say that you're trying to get rid of me." He chuckled to himself. "Hurry up; I'll wait here for you."

Sheridan took a deep breath, knowing that things had already gone too far. He looked at the soldier and said, "I've got a couple of really light things, I guess you could carry them for me."