First Strike (The Kurgan War Book 1)

by Richard Turner

  Sheridan’s clothes clung to his sweat covered body. He grabbed a towel and wiped the sweat from his face. With a heavy sigh, Sheridan sat down and looked down at his hands and saw they were shaking.

  “It’s ok, it’s just the adrenaline leaving your system,” said Cole as he took a seat beside Sheridan. “It happens to all of us.”

  Sheridan glanced over and saw that Cole’s hands were as steady as a rock. “You’re not shaking.”

  “I’ve learned to deal with it, doesn’t mean I wasn’t scared.”

  Sheridan made sure that none of the Marines could hear him. Quietly, he said, “I’d never seen a dead body before today. It’s not something they prepare you for at the academy.”

  Cole nodded his head. “There’s plenty they don’t prepare you for. Wait until it’s one of your own men. Trust me, it’s an awful feeling you never really get over.”

  Sheridan shuddered. He decided to change the topic. “Did you get what the captain was after?”

  “I sure did. Sir, did the man you found have any ID on him?”

  “None that I could see.”

  Cole slapped Sheridan on the back. “Come on, sir, let’s get changed and go see the captain.”

  Chapter 5

  With less than two hours to go before they arrived at their destination, Captain Lefol studied the computer logs downloaded from the California. The attack on the convoy had been carried out with surgical precision. First, the freighter had struck a cloaked mine, disabling her engines. When the frigate Orion stopped the convoy to allow the crippled vessel to make repairs, they were hit by a Kurgan raiding party. Once the Orion was taken out of action, the remainder of the ships in the convoy were picked off one by one as they tried to escape. She made a note to inform her superiors to abandon any ship that couldn’t keep up with the others from now on. It was a cold move, but one she knew would guarantee a greater chance for survival for the others.

  After handing over the bridge to her first officer, Lefol headed down to the medical bay to check on the patient brought over from the California. She found the ship’s doctor checking the sleeping man’s vitals.

  “How is he doing?” she asked the doctor.

  “He’ll live,” replied the doctor, a dumpy, redheaded man with a strong Scottish accent.

  “Did you find any identification on him?”

  The doctor handed her the man’s ID discs.

  “Tartov,” said Lefol as she read the man’s discs. “Is he in the fleet medical database?”

  “Yes, he’s listed as a Petty Officer Third Class. He has no history of ill health. Unless he changed jobs recently, he’s a computer technician.”

  “Do you think he’ll be coming around soon?”

  The doctor shook his head. “He’s got enough drugs in him to knock out a horse. He’ll be out for at least another twelve to twenty-four hours.”

  Lefol bit her lip. She’d hoped the man would be up well before that. They were heading into a dangerous situation and she needed answers. “Ok, thanks, Doc. Please let me know the instant he wakes up, I have a few questions I’d like him to answer.”

  “Can do. Is there anything else I can help you with, Captain?”

  Lefol shook her head and left the room. Finding survivors on stricken ships was not unheard of. What dug at her was the fact that he was the only one wearing a survival suit when the ship was attacked. She couldn’t believe that it was just a coincidence. There was more to the story than anyone knew and that bothered her.

  In the mess hall, Sheridan and Cole sat silently at their table eating a light meal of soup and sandwiches. The usual loud banter between the young Marines had evaporated. After returning back to the ship, the Marines who had ventured over to the California came back with tales of horror and devastation. The brutal reality of war had just begun to sink home.

  “Sir, shall I have the men ready for action when we arrive at Illum Prime?” asked Cole.

  Sheridan nodded his head. He knew that Cole would have given the order anyway; he knew that it was his way of easing him into giving the orders. “Sergeant, since we don’t have a medic with us I’d like a couple of medical packs given to the troops who scored the highest on their combat first aid in training. I’d feel better knowing that we had the med kits with us just in case we need them.”

  Cole looked over at the Marines and called out, “Simons, Garcia, draw a med pack each and carry it with you from now on.”

  “Yes, Sergeant,” replied both Marines.

  Sheridan said, “Sergeant, you picked two women.”

  “Sex has nothing to do with it, sir. You wanted the best and those two Marines are the best combat first aiders we have.”

  Sheridan placed his spoon down and looked over at Cole. “Sergeant, a couple of hours ago you said that we’d be lucky to live out the day. Do you still feel that way?”

  “Yeah, I do. It’s obvious that the Kurgans have been planning this for years. These strikes deep into our territory are a prelude to an all-out invasion. Illum Prime would make a great staging base for someone planning to take our outer colonies or some of the resource planets. When we arrive in orbit, trust me, we’re going to find a Kurgan fleet waiting there.”

  Sheridan sat there for a second, not sure what to say. Everything Cole said made perfect sense. “If the Kurgans are already at Illum Prime, then why is the captain insisting that we go there?”

  “She probably has standing orders that state in the event of war that she must reconnoiter the planet and report what is happening. Sir, you must have studied the last Kurgan War in the academy. What is the first thing the Kurgans would do if they were attacking Illum Prime?”

  “They would knock out all of the planet’s satellites, blinding it and making it unable to communicate with anyone in the Fleet.”

  “Precisely. They can’t send a distress message, so that’s why she has to take a look in order to determine if the planet is under attack.”

  “Jesus,” mumbled Sheridan. “There has to be a better way of doing that.”

  “If there is, I’m sure the captain would be delighted to hear about it.”

  Two hours later, the jump engine switched off and the Churchill came to a sudden stop behind the largest of Illum Prime’s four moons. On the bridge, Captain Lefol ordered the ship’s sensor suite to be turned from active to passive. She didn’t want the Kurgans, if they were in orbit, to realize that they were being scanned. A small probe was launched so Lefol could get a better picture of what was happening on the other side of the moon. The ship’s navigator and helmsman hurriedly computed their escape trajectory should they need to make an emergency jump back to the nearest colony.

  “Ma’am, I’m getting a coded message from Fleet Headquarters,” reported the communications officer.

  “How old is it?”

  “Three days, Captain.”

  “Damn,” 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 orbiting the planet came up on the screen. Worse still, the wreckage of several Terran warships floated in space. 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 proclaim
ed 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.

  “Damn, 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 button 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 space where the Churchill had been a mere second ago.

  “God damn 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 hell 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 space 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 assume 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 assess 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 crap out just when we need it,” stressed Lefol. “All this jumping back and forth through space 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 w
ith 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 glasses perched on his bulbous nose.

  Lefol said, “Gents, I’d like you two to meet Petty Officer Third Class 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 hit. 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 spaces. I probably panicked, hyperventilated and passed out. The men working with me must have found me and taken me to sick bay just before the California was hit…” 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.