The Kurgan War: First Strike Part 3

"How old is it?"

"Three days, Captain."

"d.a.m.n," muttered Lefol under her breath. "I hope this wasn't for nothing. Decode it and hand it to me immediately."

On the tactical screen, the image of the probe appeared. Lefol and everyone else held their breath and watched intently as it flew over the top of the large moon they were using for cover. Lefol was counting on the probe giving off such a small signature that the Kurgans would miss it if they were in orbit.

A couple of seconds later, her worst nightmare was realized when a force of at least one hundred Kurgan ships...o...b..ting the planet came up on the screen. Worse still, the wreckage of several Terran warships floated in s.p.a.ce. Kurgan vessels, ranging from a large fighter carrier to dozens of troop transports, had converged to a position directly above Illum Prime's main city. Lefol clenched her jaw when she saw hundreds of troop shuttles entering the atmosphere. The invasion had begun.

Illum Prime was on its own.

"Do you have all this?" Lefol asked her first officer.

"Yes, ma'am," replied the man.

Suddenly, an alarm sounded throughout the ship.

A computer voice proclaimed loudly, "Warning, incoming missile fire, I say again incoming missile fire. All hands brace for impact."

Lefol swore. "Where are they?"

"Two anti-ship missiles coming in from the port side, time to impact fifteen seconds," announced the weapons officer. With their sensor array turned off they had failed to detect a Kurgan fighter closing in on them.

"Time to jump?" Lefol asked her navigator.

"Ten seconds," she replied, counting down the time.

"d.a.m.n, this is going to be close."

With one eye on the incoming missiles and the other on the jump clock, Lefol said a silent prayer. A ship her size didn't have the power to generate a defensive shield like the big capital ships could. If they were hit before they jumped, they were doomed.

"Making the jump now," calmly announced her helmsman as he depressed a b.u.t.ton on his console.

The sound of the ship's engines kicking in had never sounded sweeter to Lefol's ears. In the blink of an eye, they jumped away from Illum Prime. Behind them, the Kurgan missiles streaked through the empty s.p.a.ce where the Churchill had been a mere second ago.

"G.o.d d.a.m.n it, she's gonna get us all killed!" shouted out a tall, black-haired Marine as the klaxon alarm blared loudly.

In an instant, Cole stepped over to the soldier, grabbed him by the collar and looked into his frightened eyes. "At ease, Obermman, she's doing her job."

The air in the room grew tense as Cole stared down the tall Marine.

Obermman stared wide-eyed at Cole. The threatening look in the sergeant's eyes told him to back down and shut up.

Cole let go of the soldier's collar and pushed him back towards his friends.

Scared and shaking all over, the Marine stepped back and looked down at the floor.

"That goes for all of you," warned Cole. "The captain knows what she's doing. We're at war. You had better get used to the fact that the enemy is going to try and kill you."

The alarm switched off.

Silence filled the Marines' quarters as they looked around at one another. Dread filled the room.

Cole said, "Prep your gear. There's going to be a platoon leader's inspection in one hour and there'll be h.e.l.l to pay if he picks anything up. Worry about me, not the Kurgans."

It was a temporary measure to get the Marines' minds focused on something other than the enemy. Cole knew it was only a stopgap measure. The sooner they arrived where they were going, the better. The problem was he had no idea where they were now heading.

While the soldiers got themselves ready, Sheridan and Cole were invited to the captain's briefing room for an update. All of the senior officers and naval ratings were present. An image of the current region of s.p.a.ce was displayed on a monitor behind the ship's first officer.

Lefol kicked off the meeting. "As you are all undoubtedly aware Illum Prime is under attack by Kurgan forces. If it isn't already, it will soon be under Kurgan occupation. As we did not detect any radiation in the atmosphere, I think it is safe to a.s.sume that nukes weren't used, which means that the Kurgans want the planet's infrastructure for themselves. What you are unaware of is that I have received orders to fall back to Derra-5 to drop off our combat supplies and Marines there. Fleet a.s.sess that the next planet the Kurgans will attempt to take in our sector will be Derra-5."

The image of an Earth-like planet came up on the screen. There were three major settlements on the planet, all of which were in the northern hemisphere. Sheridan noted that Derra-5 was about to enter its winter period.

"Ma'am, which unit is based on Derra-5?" asked Sheridan.

Lefol looked over at her first officer.

"It's the home station for the Third Regiment, Eighteenth Division. However, men and equipment from all over this sector are being directed to Derra-5 to bolster its defenses," explained the first officer.

"Time to Derra-5?" Lefol asked her navigator.

"Ma'am, at our current speed, we should arrive there in just under thirty-eight hours," replied the navigator.

"I have had the information from the probe sent to Fleet Headquarters, but it is doubtful that it will get there before we jump into orbit above Derra-5. Hopefully, we'll get a better reception there than we did at Illum Prime."

A nervous chuckle ran through the room.

"Ok then, I want a complete inspection of the ship's systems before we arrive at Derra-5. I don't want something important to c.r.a.p out just when we need it," stressed Lefol. "All this jumping back and forth through s.p.a.ce has been putting a strain on the Churchill and its limited fuel supply. People, don't forget that we were slated for a month long stay in dry-dock before the Kurgans attacked. I expect everyone to pull double shifts if they have to. I want us shipshape and ready for anything. Am I understood?"

"Aye, aye, ma'am," replied her crew.

"Good, now get to it. I'll expect regular updates to be provided to the first officer."

The meeting ended.

Sheridan stood and walked over to the monitor and studied the image of Derra-5. Moving his hand along the screen, he brought up pictures of the fauna and flora of the planet. It reminded him of northern Europe. Memorizing everything, he could about the three major settlements and the planet's defenses, Sheridan knew that they were in for a desperate fight. The Third Regiment was spread between the cities, meaning that only a battalion of about eight hundred men were available to defend each town. With winter fast approaching the Kurgans, who came from a dry, hot world, would want to quickly seize the cities intact. Unless the fleet dispatched substantial reinforcements, Sheridan knew that they didn't stand a chance. The best they could do was delay the enemy, giving the fleet an opportunity to gather its forces for a concerted counter-attack.

Chapter 6.

Sheridan looked out at the faces of the apprehensive soldiers sitting in the mess hall. He turned on a large wall-mounted screen and brought up a picture of their next destination. "Marines, I won't lie to you. We're being ordered to Derra-5 in order to buy time for the fleet to mobilize. Don't be under any illusion; the chances of any of us coming out of this alive are almost non-existent."

A young soldier put up his hand. "Sir, so this is kinda like the Alamo?"

Sheridan grinned. "Yeah, you might say that."

"But everyone died there," glumly added Garcia, a slender Hispanic woman with short jet-black hair.

"We won't be alone. Units and equipment from all over this sector are being rushed to Derra-5. By the time we arrive, there could be substantial reinforcements there. However, if history has taught us anything, plan for the worst and pray that you're wrong."

"Sir, what unit is based there?" asked a blonde-haired Marine with a thick Nordic accent.

"Derra-5 is home to the Third Regiment, Eighteenth Division. However, with men and material coming from all over, I couldn't even hazard a guess who we'll end up serving under."

"A Marine unit is a Marine unit," added Cole philosophically. "One is as good as another. Just remember your training and you'll be ok."

"Thanks, Sergeant," said Sheridan. "Are there any more questions?"

The room was silent.

With a loud clap of his hands, Cole broke the silence. "Ok Marines, we still have an inspection in thirty minutes. Get to it."

Sheridan and Cole left the room.

Garcia walked over to a tall, muscle-bound, blonde-haired Marine. "So, Agnar, still happy you decided to join the Marines?"

With a broad grin, he said, "Yeah, we all got to die sometime."

"Frigging Vikings," muttered Garcia as she walked over to her combat gear and started to get it ready for inspection.

Halfway through the inspection Lefol's voice came over the ship's intercom asking Sheridan and Cole to meet her in the medical bay. When they arrived, Lefol was standing beside a bed. Sitting with his feet hanging down over the side of the bed was Tartov, the man Sheridan had found in the California. He was busy chugging down a tall plastic cup of water. He was short and pudgy with thick gla.s.ses perched on his bulbous nose.

Lefol said, "Gents, I'd like you two to meet Petty Officer Third Cla.s.s Peter Tartov."

Tartov stopped drinking and looked over at the two Marines. "I hear that I owe you my life."

"It was Second Lieutenant Sheridan who found you," clarified Cole.

"Thanks, sir," said Tartov, nodding his head at Sheridan.

"Just doing my job," replied Sheridan.

"Well, sir, I'm glad you guys came by when you did. If you hadn't my air would have run out ages ago and I'd be as dead as everyone on my ship."

Lefol said, "It was quite fortuitous that you were in a survival suit when your vessel was. .h.i.t. What were you doing prior to the attack?"

"I'd been working on the computer relays near the jump engine, ma'am. Captain Marcus' SOP was for anyone working near the engines to wear a survival suit in case there were an accident and radiation leaked from the engine. I'm not a big fan of enclosed s.p.a.ces. I probably panicked, hyperventilated and pa.s.sed out. The men working with me must have found me and taken me to sick bay just before the California was. .h.i.t..." Tartov's voice trailed off. "I can't believe they're all gone."

"Be thankful you're still alive," stressed Lefol.

"Yes, ma'am."

"Ok, visiting hours are over," announced the ship's doctor gruffly. "PO Tartov needs his rest."

Lefol, Sheridan, and Cole left the room and stepped out into the hallway.

"Do you believe him?" Lefol asked the two soldiers.

Cole shrugged his shoulders.

"I've met people who are deathly afraid of enclosed s.p.a.ces, so he could be telling the truth," answered Sheridan.

"I don't know," said Lefol. "The doc said he was heavily drugged up. Why would he need sedation if he'd already pa.s.sed out?"

Cole's eyes narrowed as he looked back at the closed med bay door. "I take it you don't trust him, Captain."

"At this moment, I'm not sure I trust you two."

With less than an hour to go until the Churchill arrived in orbit above Derra-5, Lefol was growing concerned that there had been no communications from the planet. If there were other vessels from the fleet ferrying men and equipment there, the comms channels would be filled with traffic.

So far, nothing.

She didn't like it one bit. It was too much like the situation with the California. Lefol was beginning to suspect that the Kurgans were jamming the frequencies when her communications officer announced that she had Derra-5 on a secure channel.

"On speaker," said Lefol.

"Go ahead, ma'am," said the communications officer.

"Derra-5 Operations, this is Captain Lefol of the Churchill, how do you read me?"

"We read you loud and clear, Churchill," replied a man's voice over the ship's speaker.

"We are inbound with men and materials. What is the tactical situation there?"

"It's all quiet for the moment. Kurgan fighters have probed the outer defenses twice in the past day and a half. All were engaged and destroyed by our fighters flying combat patrol over the fleet."

Lefol's eyes lit up. "Derra-5, did you say fleet?"

"Roger that, most of the Fourth Fleet is in our sector."

"That's good news," replied Lefol.

"Sure is, Churchill. Please come out of your jump above the capital. Exact coordinates are being relayed to your ship's navigation-computer. Shuttlecraft are on standby to ferry your Marines and material down to the surface."

"Derra-5, we will arrive at your location," Lefol looked over at the screen to check the fight time, "in fifty-three minutes." Lefol asked her comms officer to end the call but continue to monitor the channel for further instructions.

Looking over at her first officer, Lefol pensively shook her head.

He moved over beside her. In a voice barely above a whisper, he said, "What are you thinking, Captain?"

"This doesn't feel right. The orders I received from Fleet Headquarters never mentioned the Fourth Fleet moving to a.s.sist Derra-5."

"Perhaps the orders changed after we received them? We're still playing catch up with our deep s.p.a.ce communications. This wouldn't be the first time that we were the last to know about something going on."