CRIMSON FIRE
The Kurgan War – Book 8
By Richard Turner
©2017 by Richard Turner
Published 2017 by Richard Turner
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced without written permission, except for brief quotations to books and critical reviews. This story is a work of fiction. Characters and events are the product of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, is coincidental.
Table of Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Chapter 46
Chapter 1
The world was dying.
Everywhere Michael Sheridan looked, flames lit up the horizon. Dark clouds of thick, black smoke swirled skyward like a malevolent genie, blocking out the sun. Row after row of bloodied and battered bodies covered the battlefield. Flocks of black, meat-eating birds circled high in the sky calling to one another as they waited for their chance to feast on the dead.
Sheridan staggered forward. His battered right arm hung loosely by his side. Blood, smoke, and dirt covered his face. Sheridan no longer tried to avoid stepping on the dead and dying at his feet. His soul and body were numb. Soldiers pleaded with him to give them some water to quench their thirst. He paid them no heed as he trudged on. His mind blocked out the river of blood that flowed from the thousands of warriors littering the ground. Sheridan had only one thought on his mind. He had to end the slaughter, and if it cost him his life, so be it.
A tall, dark shape emerged out of the smoke, took one look at Sheridan, and fled.
Sheridan willed his leaden feet to move. His battered body screamed at him to slow down, to take it easy, but his thirst for revenge pushed him on. In the distance, he could see a tall stone pyramid. Sheridan began to jog.
His foe glanced over his shoulder, saw Sheridan coming, and started to rip off anything on his uniform which would slow him down. His helmet and body armor were the first to go, followed by his heavy ammunition belt.
“Stop!” hollered Sheridan.
His opponent ignored him and kept running.
Sheridan spotted a spear on the ground and picked it up with his left hand. As he approached the pyramid, Sheridan’s blood began to boil. The mutilated corpses of the women and children who had taken sanctuary in the city littered the narrow streets. With a cry on his lips, Sheridan picked up his pace. There was no way in hell he was going to let the man responsible for so much death and destruction get away—not while he still had an ounce of strength left in his body.
Sheridan’s foe began to climb the steps of the pyramid. He had only gone a few meters when his feet slipped on the blood-soaked steps, sending him tumbling to the ground.
“Surrender,” ordered Sheridan as he closed in on his prey.
The darkened figure stood and brandished a wooden club in his hand. “Come and make me.”
Sheridan picked up a spear from the ground and tucked it tight under his arm and then ran at his opponent.
The man saw what was about to happen and swung down on Sheridan’s spear with his club, snapping it in two.
Sheridan dropped the shattered weapon and dove at his enemy. Both men tumbled to the ground and rolled around, each trying to get a hold of their foe’s neck. With only one good arm, Sheridan was at a distinct disadvantage. In seconds, his opponent had his neck tight in his hands and began to squeeze the life out of him. Sheridan knew he had only seconds before he blacked out and died. He reached behind his back until he found his knife and yanked it from its sheath. With all the strength he could muster, Sheridan jammed the knife home into his enemy’s side and twisted the blade over.
With a loud hiss, his foe opened its mouth, exposing a row of razor-sharp teeth. The fetid smell of rotting flesh, hanging from his adversary’s teeth, made Sheridan gag. With a blood-curdling cry, it lowered its jaws down onto Sheridan’s face, ripping and tearing chucks of flesh away.
Sheridan bolted awake. He jumped from his bed, throwing his sheets aside. His pajama bottoms clung to his sweat-soaked body. Sheridan’s eyes were as wide as saucers. His heart raced in his chest. Still lost in his dream, he grabbed the nearest thing he could find to defend himself.
A bedside light in the room switched on, chasing away the demons from Sheridan’s mind.
“It’s all right, you’re okay,” said Tarina in a soothing voice. It was his third nightmare in as many days.
Sheridan turned his head and saw his wife standing there in a pair of shorts and one of his T-shirts and immediately lowered the combat boot he’d picked up to fight off his nightmarish attacker.
“Was it the same dream as before?” asked Tarina.
“Yeah,” replied Sheridan, dropping the boot to the floor. He wiped the sweat from his face with his hands before sitting down on the edge of their bed.
Tarina edged over to his side. “Do you want to talk about?”
“It never changes. There’s been a horrific battle in which thousands of innocent people were horribly massacred. I find myself walking through a scene of unspeakable horror when I spot the man responsible for the misery, and I chase after him. We fight, and before my opponent dies, he rips the flesh from my face with his teeth. I used to have a similar dream when I was a kid, but these seem so visceral and real. This time I could smell the blood.”
“Were you fighting a Kurgan?”
“Yes—no—I don’t know. The figure is always dark and nondescript. I could be fighting just about anyone or anything.”
Tarina stood, poured her husband a glass of cold water, and handed it to him. “I have to go back on treaty verification patrols tomorrow. Promise me you’ll see a mental health specialist first thing in the morning.”
Sheridan nodded. He took a gulp of water, immediately bringing relief to the burning sensation inside his body. He stood. “I’ll never get back to sleep. There’s no need for you to stay up with me. Why don’t you go back to bed and I’ll go to the gym to burn off some of this energy?”
“You know, I’m going to be gone for a couple of weeks,” said Tarina, shedding her T-shirt, revealing her warm, brown skin. “Are you sure you can’t think of another way to burn off all that pent-up energy?”
Sheridan placed his cup down and smiled at his wife. “Okay, but only if you insist.”
Tarina laid back on the bed. Her voiced turned husky. “I most certainly do.”
Chapter 2
Sheridan watched as a shuttlecraft came to a stop inside the landing bay. As soon as the hangar was pressurized
, a side door on the shuttle lifted and the passengers began to disembark. Alan Cole was among the last to exit the craft. He carried a small pack over his shoulder. Sheridan banged on the glass to get Cole’s attention.
Cole broke from the pack and walked over.
“How was leave?” asked Sheridan.
Cole shrugged and looked away for a second.
“What happened?” asked Sheridan, sensing Cole and Wendy’s three-day R&R on a nearby moon hadn’t gone as planned.
“I finally told Wendy how I feel about her, and she said she felt the same way too, but it didn’t seem right. We talked for hours and in the end decided not to change a thing and stay best mates.”
“Tarina said that’s how things would probably turn out between you two. Come on, I’ll walk you to your quarters and then take you for a coffee.”
“Since you’re being so nice to me, I have to assume that your better half is away again?”
Sheridan chuckled. “She left yesterday. Am I really that transparent?”
“Ever since I laid eyes on you on that overloaded transport ship heading for Illum Prime, I’ve been able to read you like a book.”
“I didn’t see Wendy come off the ship. Where is she?”
“Tarina picked her up this morning from the rest center. That’s how I knew they were both off on patrol again.”
“So, I guess we’re a pair of bachelors without a care in the world for the next two weeks.”
Cole patted Sheridan on the shoulder. “If you say so.”
A woman’s voice came over the ship’s speaker system. “Major Sheridan and Captain Cole, report to the operations briefing room immediately. I say again, Major Sheridan and Captain Cole, report to the operations briefing room.”
Cole looked down at his rumpled civilian clothing. “I guess this will have to do for now.”
“I doubt anyone will care. Don’t forget on more than one occasion, my dad’s seen us both in hospital gowns.”
“Yeah, that’s true.”
Sheridan looked around. “Come on, let’s find the nearest elevator and get moving before Captain Killam sends the MPs to hurry us along.”
The door to the briefing room slid open, allowing Sheridan and Cole to step inside. Apart from Captain Killam, looking over a file, the room was empty.
Sheridan came to attention and saluted his superior officer.
Killam returned the compliment. “Gents, please take a seat at the table. Admiral Sheridan will be along shortly.”
Both men sat and exchanged a “what now” look.
A young crewman walked in carrying a tray with a silver carafe and four cups on it. He set the tray down on the table and exited the room. The smell of freshly brewed coffee wafted in the air. Cole reached over to pick up the carafe when the door to Admiral Sheridan’s quarters opened and the admiral walked in. All three men shot to attention.
“As you were,” said Robert Sheridan. With his black hair, blue eyes, and good looks, the admiral was the spitting image of his son.
“Coffee, sir?” said Cole.
“Yes, please, Alan,” replied Robert.
Sheridan smirked. He could see the discomfort in Cole’s eyes every time his father referred to him by his first name and not his rank.
Cole poured four cups and then sat down.
“Gents, the reason I convened this meeting is because of some information I received from Admiral Kaar,” explained Robert as he joined everyone at the table. “As you are all no doubt aware, six weeks ago the Kurgan Emperor suffered a debilitating stroke and since that time his eldest son has ruled as Prince Regent of the Empire. According to well-placed sources in the palace, it doesn’t look like the emperor will pull through. He is expected to pass on in the next couple days.”
“With their civil war dragging on into its second year, are the Kurgans prepared for a smooth transition of power?” asked Michael.
“That’s the question, isn’t it?”
“How does Admiral Kaar feel things will go?” asked Killam.
“He’s not sure. He told me that he’d heard rumors of an attempted coup being plotted by some of the other families with a claim on the throne.”
“How many factions are we talking about?”
Admiral Sheridan looked over at his son. “Michael, care to answer this one?”
“Sir, there are five families who have at one time or another occupied the Kurgan throne,” expounded the younger Sheridan. “Each one of these families can trace their lineage back to the first Kurgan Emperor and are among the richest and most influential Kurgans in the empire. If a coup is being planned I suspect that only one family will attempt to steal the throne. The others have probably already been bought off with promises of riches and power once the new emperor sits on the throne.”
“That’s precisely how Kaar sees it as well.”
“How does this affect us, sir?” asked Cole.
“Depending on who finally takes power, a number of different scenarios could arise,” replied Robert. “If the Prince Regent assumes the throne then the status quo will continue. The peace talks won’t be in danger, and the repatriation of captured Terran citizens will remain in place. However, if another family seizes power, all bets are off. Some are openly hostile to the peace accords and feel the emperor has shamed the empire by agreeing to our terms.”
“Surely the Kurgans don’t want to resume the war, do they?” asked Killam.
“Kaar doesn’t think so, but we can’t rule it out either. I need you and your planning team to look at all scenarios from a limited strike against our forces to a resumption of full-out war with the Kurgans in this sector of space.”
“Yes, sir.”
Michael looked his father in the eyes. There had to be more. “Admiral, how do Alan and I fit in with all of this? You wouldn’t have asked us here if you didn’t already have something in mind.”
His father smiled. “As a matter of fact, I do have something for the two of you can do for me.
“The Prince Regent was going to conduct a tour of this region of Kurgan space when the emperor had his stroke. However, after conferring with Admiral Kaar, the Regent decided to send his only son instead. Prince Kobak and his elder sister Princess Katin will be arriving here tomorrow afternoon on board the Kurgan super-dreadnaught Kuzma.”
“Vengeance,” translated Michael.
Admiral Sheridan continued. “You and Alan will be going on board the Kuzma as dinner guests of Prince Kobak.”
Michael’s eyes widened. “Sir?”
“Prince Kobak requested to meet a couple Terran warriors during his visit, and Kaar naturally gave him your names.”
Cole sat forward in his chair. “Come again, sir?”
“You two gentlemen will dine aboard the Kuzma as guests of the Kurgan Empire tomorrow evening. You won’t be alone. Colonel Keyl, Kaar’s new chief of staff, will be there with you to ensure that everything goes smoothly.”
“I’ve never met Keyl before,” said Michael. “Is he trustworthy?”
“I have no idea. I guess you’ll find out firsthand tomorrow when you transfer to Admiral Kaar’s flagship and join Keyl there for transportation to the Kuzma.”
“Sir, surely there are more senior officers available who could better represent the fleet instead of Alan and me?”
“It’s too late. Kaar has already given Prince Kobak your names. You know how the Kurgans are; it would be impolite of me to ask Admiral Kaar to change things at this late date.”
Sheridan knew his father was right. He sat back in his seat, crossed his arms, and let out a resigned sigh.
“Gents, it’s not the end of the world,” said Robert. “Think of it as a unique cultural exchange.”
“Yes, sir,” responded Michael, sounding unenthused.
“Well, I think this is all for now. You two have to get your dress blue uniforms cleaned and pressed, and Captain Killam has some serious planning to do.”
“Yes, sir,” replied the three men
in unison.
“Dismissed.”
Robert Sheridan waited to be alone in the room before taking out a secure handheld communicator and turning it on. “Okay, I’ve done as you asked. This plan of yours had better work.”
“Thank you, Robert,” replied Kaar. “I’m sorry that once again I have dragged your son into the internal affairs of the empire, but he is the only non-Kurgan warrior I would trust to pull this off.”
“What if nothing happens tomorrow?”
“Then, this old warrior was being overly cautious. But if something does happen,
being prepared to act may save an untold number of lives.”
“Let’s pray for a quiet evening and a swift return to the negotiating table so we can finally wrap up this war and go home.”
“Yes, Robert, let us pray.”
Chapter 3
Sheridan sat in his seat and stared out the window of the small four-man shuttle as it flew toward Admiral Kaar’s flagship. He idly drummed his fingers on his leg while Cole pulled at the collar of his full-dress jacket.
“Is there anything I need to know about a Kurgan state banquet before we get there?” asked Cole.
“Sorry, did you say something?” said Sheridan.
“As there are only the two of us sitting here in this passenger compartment, I’m fairly certain it was me who spoke to you.”
“Sorry, my mind was elsewhere. What is it you want to know?”
“How about the dos and don’ts at a formal Kurgan dinner? I’d hate to be the guy singled out in future history books as the person who started the Third Kurgan War for not following protocol.”
Crimson Fire (The Kurgan War Book 8) Page 1
