They headed back to the camp, the wind at their back, relatively unconcerned. They had patrolled the area only hours before, and apart from the hide they had found, no new sign of other humans. None of the telltale Vampire scent on the wind.
Still, his patrol moved cautiously. Overconfidence in the shuttle was what had gotten them into trouble in the first place. They were halfway back, and the breeze went still.
Olaf’s nose twitched, as did Andre’s. “Cover!” he shouted out the order. There was a human odor in the air now that the wind wasn’t blowing it away from them. His patrol quickly dove behind rises, trees, and whatever else they could find. Olaf himself took cover behind a tree.
He heard rustles in the brush ahead that confirmed his suspicions.
“It would seem that we are at an impasse,” a voice from the woods said. “We have all five of you located. A firefight was not what we had planned, but we will take it if that’s all that is on offer.”
Olaf thought quickly, then decided provocation was the best option if they were the enemy. “That’s all you have! We will not surrender to a blood drinker’s lackeys!” he shouted back. He loosened the straps on his patrol webbing, preparing to shift if he needed to.
However, he was not convinced they served the Vampire. He thought he’d be able to smell what Danislav described as ‘old, off blood’ on a Vampire's troops. Especially if it had kept to one lair for some time, as many did.
There was silence for a moment, then a snarling, feminine voice answered, “We have nothing to do with that bitch! Most of us are survivors of attempts to ‘cleanse’ our homes with some of her monsters.” That sounded more like this Vampire was nearby and directing the Nosferatu. That was a small relief.
Olaf hesitated. If he took it at face value, then he risked looking like a credulous fool in any event. Either that or arousing their suspicions about his motives. “I guess it is a standoff then. I sure as hell can’t trust that you are not working for the blood drinkers!”
There was a pause as that sunk into the listeners. Then a shout went out from one of Olaf's men. The flanking group of enemies was the action that broke Olaf into action. His webbing hit the ground, as did his rifle. He quickly shifted into his bear form. He was moving as he was changing. Shots rang out, but Olaf charged at an angle. He was faster than any known Were. People used to targeting regular bears, leading the target for a normal bear's speed, had no chance to hit him.
Quickly, he was through their lines. As he broke through, he passed two of the ambushing troops. One of them he smashed into the tree he was hiding behind. The man slid bonelessly down the trunk, unconscious or dead. The other bravely tried to line up a shot while standing directly in front of Olaf. The bear he now was pounded the ambusher into the ground before the bullet could be fired.
There were shouts of consternation. Perhaps the Belarusians had not heard of, believed, or encountered Weres before. But the confusion of a six or seven-hundred-pound animal charging through their lines distracted the best of them. Olaf’s patrol consolidated behind a group of trees that covered them from both the flanking movement and those who had remained in original ambush positions.
Olaf would worry about the damage the transformation had done to his clothes later. His armor was specifically designed to fit his bear form when he changed. It was not as strong as his father's solid overlapping alloy plate armor, as it was made of the same cloth as the regular forces antiballistic armor. The pants were obliterated by the transformation. He had two spare pairs in his pack back at camp.
A bullet pounded into Olaf’s body armor as he was distracted by his silly concerns. 'Get moving, make a plan!' shouted Danislav's voice in Olaf's head.
The order echoed through his mind. Plan, yes. Find the woman who had answered back to him. Take her into his physical control. It was likely she was the leader. If not, she was second or third in command. A hostage that gave him a chance for negotiation
Bullets cracked past him as he moved from concealment to cover and back to concealment again, sniffing the air for the smell of a female human. He could smell two, but only one was close to the location where he had heard the words shouted from.
Moving through the dense underbrush as fast as he could, dodging trees, he circled to a position directly behind her. He slowed, the sound of his continued forward movement covered by the ambushing force crashing through the underbrush to find him. There were occasional cracks of single bullets being fired.
They were no longer passing near him, so Olaf continued forward. When he found the source of the scent, he saw a young woman flanked by an older man and what he could only call a boy. Charging forward he flung the older man into a tree with a mighty backhand from a single paw. Several bullets impacted against his armor, moving down until they were hitting his rear.
The nine-millimeter bullets were more of an annoyance than a serious threat to him. They wouldn't have threatened an ordinary bear, let alone a nanite enhanced Were of Boris's line. They did, however, make him angry.
A single swipe of his paw as he rounded on the enemy ripped the submachine gun from the boy's hands. The boy froze and gaped as Olaf then rose onto his back feet and, after reining in his anger, headbutted his opponent.
Swinging around, he turned his attention to the woman. He heard her gasp to his right, and as Olaf turned, he heard her try to escape through the brush. He was too close. She could not have dodged his charge had she been facing him. When he brought her to the ground from behind, it had been inevitable.
Under the weight of his bear form, she was unable to struggle.
As he shifted back, she struggled mightily beneath him. Despite the disorientation of the shift, he managed to block an attempt to kick him in the groin with his thigh.
“Wh-what are you?” she gasped.
Shrugging internally as he yanked one of her arms behind her, he answered in a growl, “I'm a bloody Werebear, you stupid little girl. New Romanovkan.”
Struggling and spitting as he pulled her painfully to her feet, she said, “Ha, myth and legend, are you?”
Olaf dragged her backward, putting his free arm around her throat in a headlock. Once he was up against a tree, he yelled out. “I have one of you alive. I call for parlay.”
More quietly he said, “Your life may not matter to you, but if they don't stop firing, I'll have to take them out before they harm my men. I cannot guarantee I can take out fifteen or twenty more men without killing them.”
She struggled against his iron grip. He neither tightened nor loosened it. He loomed over her, and their eyes met. His were calm, almost reassuring. Hers were filled with a fiery fury.
Their wills clashed, but her fire melted against his calm certainty. When he said, “Fifteen more shots before I go after your men,” Olaf felt her flinch.
Another crack sounded, “Fourteen.”
Again, “Thirteen.”
She wrenched her eyes from his and shouted, “Cease fire, but hold positions!”
Good to his word Olaf shouted out, “Cease fire!”
“What did you mean by a myth and a legend?” Olaf asked as all firing stopped.
“Werebears are simply a myth. New Romanovka is a legendary place. A place where technology remains despite the destruction of it throughout the rest of the world,” she said, scorn in her voice.
“You felt me change from bear to man when I captured you. Surely, you felt the change in what was holding you, and I am as real as anyone. As for the other? Surely, if a myth has become flesh, you should consider that a legend is real as well.”
“Fine, tell me where it is then. On a map of the world.”
Olaf considered for a moment, then physically shrugged and said, “It's about two hundred kilometers south of Arkhangelsk. That city still stands, although Moscow is a wasteland. My father, Boris, is probably either pissed as hell at me or marching a response force to 'rescue me' right now.” He finished in a musing tone.
“Wait, you are telling me t
hat the group of yours isn’t the entire force?” she asked in amazement.
“No,” Olaf said, leaving it as that stark statement.
There was silence for a moment as she took the time to absorb both his statements. But a concern filled her. How much could she trust him? Then she saw her younger cousin stir.
Olaf hadn't killed him. He could have, quite easily, if he had been the bear. Then there was the fact that the bear had been wearing something. Armor, she presumed.
Meanwhile, Olaf was shifting his position. Placing his hostage to give him better cover. Shifting so his armor slid back into its human configuration. He could see two men approaching from his left and the boy gathering up weapons on his right.
“Stay in sight, please. I don’t want to have to hurt someone else. I’ll do whatever I have to in order to keep myself and my men safe!” Olaf yelled out.
“Let her go, boy,” said the oldest of the soldiers. “If you don’t, we will find a way to kill you slowly and painfully,” he added in a menacing tone.
Olaf laughed contemptuously at the threat. There was a chance they could kill him quickly. He couldn't see a way for them to capture him and contain him for the time a ‘slow and painful death’ would take.
“Vassily, run!” Olaf bellowed. Vassily was a Werewolf and would know what he meant. There were shouts of consternation as a wolf broke from the cover the rest of his patrol had found. Shots rang out, and Olaf started counting down again.
“Twelve, eleven, ten, nine,” Olaf hissed through gritted teeth.
“Cease Fire! Cease Fire!” the woman still trapped in his grasp yelled with a panicky undertone. She was more concerned about what Olaf would do to her men than what the personal consequences could be.
“Now, stay back. If you want to solve the situation, I suggest you lower your weapons. Holding your boss up without hurting her at all is getting to be tiresome. I can keep it up all day and night if necessary, but it would be a bother.” He paused as one of the ambushing troops ignored him and started to circle, moving closer. He also heard four more men approaching from behind the tree.
He yanked his hold on his captive arm tight, causing her to gasp. “That means all of you, including the four behind me. In fact, why don’t you drop your weapons and move around to where I can see all of you. Just so there’s no further… misunderstandings.”
The man trying to circle him froze.
A yell from Olaf’s men in the trees came forward, “You okay, boss? Or should we make a pointed argument against approaching you?”
“I'm fine, but if there is another gunshot things could get messy,” Olaf answered loudly.
Continuing to the group around him, he said in a reasonable tone, “Now, where was I? Oh, yes. Our transport was taken out a few days ago while we were scouting for a damned Vampire. Some weapon that looked like an arc of red lighting.”
“Personally, I’ve been hoping for a peaceful contact with local partisans if there were any. From how determined you are, I’d have to guess that you are them. A Vampire’s troops would have either shot us both already or tried to break contact to report the presence of someone like me to their boss,” he finished.
Some of the men in front of him looked doubtful. However, three of the four behind him put down their weapons and circled round non-threateningly. Keeping their hands wide of their body until they were in clear view from the front.
“While we wait for the others to come to their senses, how about you give me your name. I am Olaf, son of Boris, who is viceroy of Bethany Anne of TQB in Russia after she left Earth,” he said politely.
There was a hiss from the surrounding troops. One of the rifles came up, and Olaf rolled his eyes at the reaction. “The Queen Bitch should have cleaned the planet of the monstrosities before she left.”
Olaf shrugged and said, “I wasn't born until after she left. However, according to the records, she was facing so much resistance from the governments of the time she had no choice. All you have to do is remember what happened after she left to see how insane they were.”
One of his comrades grabbed the rifle, jerking it from the guerrilla's hands and said angrily, “Killing someone born after the devastation won’t make a difference, Marik. Killing the son of someone with Boris’s reputation would be insane. My father told me about his reputation, as did Stasia I don’t feel like having everyone in a thirty-mile vicinity killed. I still have family.”
“What if this guy is lying?” Marik answered
“Then Boris or his children will be on our side. They won’t like someone playing on their reputation and word will reach them. He’s not one of the bitches’ soldiers. They wouldn’t have tried to convince us this long. Too paranoid,” the saner man answered.
He gave Olaf a vicious grin. That expression was quite eloquent. It said, ‘I believe you, but if you are pulling a con…’
Continuing, he said, “These men are patrolling in less strength than hers ever have anyway. They also reacted faster and better. Showed more discipline.”
“So, Stasia, are you willing to tell them to put down their weapons, so I can put down my hostage and we can talk like civilized beings?” Olaf said somewhat lightly.
There was a snort from his arms, and the woman said, “I suppose we can at that. Put away your weapons, boys. If he had ill intentions, he could have carried them through by now.”
“So, what are the challenges you have faced…” Olaf started.
<<<>>>
After discussing the problems they both faced, Olaf was scowling. He had a bigger issue than he feared. The only blessing was the Vampire, Raina, had no Weres willing to follow her. She had at least two subordinate Vampires and a platoon of Nosferatu. Unusually controllable Nos at that, from what he was hearing. He hoped that wasn’t like the situations in the archives. The one that had taken Bethany Anne to deal with.
If it was, they could well be screwed.
On top of that, there was at least three hundred human infantry. Mostly people who were happy to raid and torture for Raina. She hadn't been a known player, according to the records Olaf had read. The only French Vampire of note had been called ‘The Duke.’
Stasia was remarkably understanding, even respectful, of Olaf taking her hostage. He had done it to prevent any deaths on either side. “You were saving lives,” she had said, rubbing her shoulder. A rueful smile flitted across her face, and she said, “Although I didn’t think anyone could exert that much pressure on someone’s arm without breaking something.”
“I’ve been training people in unarmed combat for decades. It’s something you learn, the point before you do permanent damage. I regret the necessity of my actions,” Olaf answered her.
She gave him a forgiving smile and stroked her hand down his wrist. Softly, gently she said, “I understand. You were in part testing who we worked for and part trying to prevent any casualties on your side. Then you saw us as potential allies and did not want to harm us. I can respect the measures you took.”
“Good,” was Olaf’s only response.
He was still formulating a plan that might give them a chance. He had to estimate the response time from his main force. He had a feeling that could be delayed. They needed to set watches on Raina’s main base. She would have to send a response out if the battalion moved forward.
Waiting for a day or two after her forces were split to intercept the battalion would be the best opportunity to raid the main site. He needed to find out numbers, both of the partisans and Raina’s forces.
But first, he'd have to convince these guerillas that it would be worth the risk, at least as a group. Possibly on an individual basis. They had no reason to trust him, so how could he manage that?
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Boris found himself looking at the ruins of the village. The houses were destroyed, the people scattered. The fields had even been burnt, removing what forage value for the horses they would provide. He was shocked about it, to be honest. Burning the fields at
this time of year would have been difficult.
Woodsmoke and turpentine filled the air over the shattered houses. Boris shook his head in disgust. It wasn’t like a village could be rebuilt from this level of destruction quickly. The town Danislav had found earlier in the year had also been torched, but there were houses still standing. Repairing them and replacing the rooms had been all that was needed.
Given all that humanity had suffered over the last fifty years, the destruction sickened Boris. What was the point of it? On a tactical level, it was wasteful. Strategically, there was some sense behind it. History told Boris the logic his foe was using.
Viktor obviously planned to trade space for time and as an attempt to stretch Boris’s logistical lines. It was the traditional Russian strategy, used in history against both invading Mongols from the East and any invaders from Europe to the west.
It also implied that Viktor would have left some of his troops to harass Boris's supply lines. Boris chose to deploy Tolstov's regiment along the logistics chain. It was a critical job, and one Tolstov could not reject. It also carried little glory. Boris could almost hear the man's teeth grinding when it was given to him.
Word of what had happened to Olaf was sure to have arrived with the logistics train by now. That sort of thing was not something someone could keep secret for long. Once Boris had agreed to continue in command of the northern campaign, Janna herself had spread the rumor.
At least that way they would know of any distortions creeping into the rumors they released.
Boris watched from his overlook on the crest of a hill. A company split off the two battalions that were clearing the region to sweep the village. Searching each building, making sure that it was not already being used as a base for enemy partisans.
Boris rose as there was a commotion. One of the squads in the street moved in on a building, prepared to move in to support their comrades already clearing it.
Soon, a half-dozen soot-covered survivors of the destruction of the village were frog-marched out of the hut. Boris could only imagine that they had been hiding in a cellar inside the building.
Redemption (The Boris Chronicles Book 4) Page 8
