Trident Fury (The Kurgan War Book 3)

by Richard Turner

The cold gray light of dawn crept over the top of the rocky hill. For the first time since they had arrived, Sheridan was able to take in everything that had happened. He walked solemnly past the rows of dead. In some places, bodies were stacked one on top of the other. Kurgan and Terran corpses covered the ground.

  “Michael, I thought you should know that two more people have just died,” said Tarina as she made her way to her lover’s side.

  “What does that bring the total to?”

  “We’ve got twelve uninjured and seven wounded still alive. One, Corporal Wu, probably won’t last long if we don’t get him medical attention. That last fight really tore us to ribbons.”

  Sheridan felt a pang of remorse in his chest. He had no idea how many they had lost until now. He took Tarina by the hand and held it tightly. “If the Kurgs knew how badly off we are right now, they’d be on us before you could blink an eye.”

  Sergeant Lee waved at Sheridan and jogged over. For the past hour, he had been keeping an eye on the Kurgans. “Sir, I don’t get it. The Kurgans are just standing around at the bottom of the hill. It’s like they have no clue what to do next. Surely they’ve got non-coms who could lead them?”

  “They do, but there’s aren’t like ours. They only have three rank levels for their conscripts: private, corporal, and sergeant. In their military, the officers make all the important decisions. Stuff we’d leave to a sergeant in our armed forces is usually done by a lieutenant in theirs. I’ve read of some veteran sergeants taking command in battle, but it’s a rarity. I suspect that with all of their officers down, they’re waiting for an officer to arrive to take charge.”

  “What about our people?” asked Tarina. “They must have freed the other prisoners by now. Wendy would have told them where we are.”

  “As would have Cole,” added Sheridan. “Let’s go with the assumption that help is on the way. Sergeant, pair off some of the stronger people with the wounded and be ready to leave on a moment’s notice.”

  “Can do, sir.”

  Tarina raised a hand to block the rising sun. In the far distance, she could make out three craft flying low to the ground. A chill ran down her spine when she realized that they were heading in their direction. “Michael, look!”

  Sheridan turned to see what Tarina was pointing at and swore when he recognized the triangular ships as being like the ones he had seen the night before. “Looks like we’re going to have to hold out for a little while longer.”

  Tarina’s voice grew concerned. “We only have about fifty rounds left. We don’t stand a chance.”

  “Head back to the others and warn them that the Kurgans are getting reinforcements and will be coming up as soon as they sort themselves out.”

  “What are you going to do, Michael?”

  “I’m going to buy us some time.” He turned his head and looked into Tarina’s eyes. If what he did next saved her life, then it would be worth it. “I love you, Tarina Pheto.”

  Her voice cracked. “I love you too.”

  With that, Sheridan handed Tarina his rifle and picked up a sword. He turned his back on her and walked to the edge of the cliff.

  She stood there with her heart aching so bad she thought it would break. Tears filled her eyes as she watched him vanish from sight.

  Cole shook Lieutenant Colonel Kimura’s hand before running over to the shuttlecraft. The side door was already down when he got there. He ran straight inside and made his way to the cockpit where he found a couple of eager pilots waiting for him.

  “Where to, Sergeant?” asked the pilot, an Asian woman wearing a second lieutenant’s bar on her collar.

  “One second,” Cole responded. He looked over his shoulder and saw Wendy and Angela rush inside the craft and close the door behind them. “Take off and follow the train tracks out into the desert. I think we’ll know what we’re looking for when we see it.”

  “Rodger that,” said the co-pilot, an equally young woman with a thick Australian accent. The shuttle pilot applied power to the engine and brought the craft up in the air. When the shuttle reached an altitude of three hundred meters, a pair of fighters from the Saratoga formed up on either side of it.

  “Hang on,” announced the pilot as the speed of the shuttle changed from floating stationary in the air over the mine to almost five hundred kilometers an hour in mere seconds.

  Cole grabbed hold of the back of the co-pilot’s chair to steady himself as the craft leaped forward. He waited a moment in the cockpit to make sure that they were heading in the right direction before heading back to speak with his comrades.

  “My God, they tore everything out of the back,” said Wendy, looking around the empty crew compartment. “They even removed all of the benches and chairs.”

  “Needed to be done,” Cole replied. “We still have no idea how many people we’re going to have to fit in back here.”

  Wendy crossed her fingers. “I’m praying for one hundred.”

  “And one,” threw in Cole.

  Without warning, the shuttle banked over hard to the left and dove for the ground. Cole, Wendy, and Angela had to scramble to find something to hold onto to prevent themselves from being thrown around. Luckily, someone had thought to tie in dozens of ropes to be used as handholds for the passengers. Although he was used to flying, the sudden drop sent Cole’s stomach up into his throat.

  The co-pilot’s voice came over the intercom. “Sorry about that. Our laser warning indicator went off up here. Someone down below was trying to lock a missile onto us. The fighter escort locked onto the signal and dropped a bomb down on their heads. We should be safe now.”

  Cole made his way to the door and looked out of the window and saw that they were flying no more than three meters off the ground. “Ladies, please be the best flight crew in the fleet and not a pair of fighter pilot washouts,” he whispered to himself.

  Chapter 44

  The concussion from the blast sent Colonel Kuhr tumbling to the ground. His body armor helped but didn’t deaden the shooting pain that he felt throughout his body. There was a painful ringing in his ears that added to the colonel’s discomfort. He hissed when he saw the severed arm of one of his soldiers land near his head. He rolled over, shook his head, and stood back up. A massive crater was all that remained of a squad of soldiers who had been armed with anti-air launchers.

  A soldier ran to Kuhr’s side. “Sir, our forward elements report that the Terrans are withdrawing.”

  “Are they sure?”

  “Yes, sir. One of their scout teams managed to get themselves into a good position of observation. They are pulling back from the ridge and are heading for their landing sites at the far end of the mine.”

  Kuhr looked at the crest of the hill and gnashed his teeth. “Order all formations to advance. I want the humans to pay for what they have done.”

  The soldier ran to pass the order. Within seconds, crimson banners were lifted aloft as the Kurgans got up off the ground and surged forward.

  Kuhr drew his sword and said a silent prayer for victory before joining his men in a headlong race to stop the Marines from getting away.

  “Here they come,” called Sergeant Urban.

  Toscano had been idle while she waited for the final Kurgan push onto their position. She and Urban had placed a series of laser indicators along the length of the ridgeline to mark precisely where they were. Next, she went and planned a warm reception for the enemy. She counted down in her head allowing the Kurgans to get close before keying the mic on her handset. “Bulldog Six, this is Ghost One, I request close air support in front of my position.”

  “Is danger close authorized?” asked Bulldog Six, the lead pilot of the fighter squadron covering the evacuation of the landing ships from the planet.

  “Affirmative, Fury Six has authorized danger close.”

  “Rodger that. Keep your heads down.”

  “Good hunting. Ghost One, out.” Toscano turned and buried her head in the ground. The coming storm was going to sh
ake the world.

  Lieutenant Colonel Fareed, formerly the XO of the First Special Warfare Squadron, banked his Thunderbolt fighter over and lined the nose of his craft with the front of the ridgeline. Behind him, four other fighters did the same. When they were in a tight formation, Fareed dove for the ground. Hundreds of icons, each one representing a Kurgan warrior, appeared on the targeting display of his flight console. A second later, a red line came up on his screen indicating the forward edge of the Marines’ trenches. He moved his thumb over on his joystick and depressed a red button. In an instant, his craft’s thirty-millimeter Vulcan cannon spewed death. Capable of firing two thousand rounds a minute, Fareed and his wingmen tore the Kurgan advance to pieces. To make sure that no one survived the maelstrom, each fighter dropped two anti-personnel cluster bombs, blanketing the front of the Marine position with mines.

  In seconds it was over, Fareed brought the nose of his Thunderbolt up and headed out over the desert before seeing if they were needed for a second run. His couldn’t believe his eyes when he saw dozens of Kurgan attack craft sitting on the desert floor.

  “Bulldogs. We’ve got us a turkey shoot,” said Fareed into his helmet mic. He activated the missile pod underneath his fighter and dove for the hapless Kurgan vessels trapped out in the open.

  The Thunderbolt fighters’ cannons firing sounded to Toscano like a chainsaw cutting through the air. It was both terrifying and exhilarating at the same time. She waited until the last craft had banked away before turning her head over and looking up at the crest of the hill. The sound of anti-personnel mines exploding told her that some Kurgans had survived the aerial assault and were still trying to close with the Marines. She grasped her rifle in her right and pulled herself up with her left. Out in the desert, a thick black pall of smoke rose from where the Kurgan attack craft had been destroyed. Toscano gasped when she saw the devastation wrought upon the Kurgans. Hundreds were dead, dying, or horribly wounded. They lay in rows so straight and tight that they looked as if they had died on parade. Some Kurgans staggered forward still trying to make it to the ridge only to die when they activated a mine or were shot down by the Marines who had come out of their trenches to see what had happened.

  “I think this is as good as over,” said Colonel White as he walked over to Toscano.

  Toscano nodded. “Sir, I have no love for the Kurgs, but you have to respect their tenacity.”

  “Fanaticism fueled by religion is what drives these soldiers. Come on, Miss Toscano, round up your people and let’s join with Alpha Company as it pulls back to the mine.”

  “Yes, sir.” Toscano stepped back, whistled down to Urban and Snow, and pointed to a destroyed hulk. Urban waved back, picked up his radio and led Snow to the RV. The raid on Klatt had been Toscano’s first engagement and was one that she would never forget.

  Scavenger birds had already begun to circle the Kurgan dead. A large male broke from the flock and dove down. It came to land on the ground beside and a tall Kurgan with a sword still clenched in his hand. His other looked to be reaching for a crimson flag lying on the ground just out of reach. The bird canted its head as if studying the dead body before hopping forward on its feet. It poked at the leathery skin on the corpse’s face. When it didn’t move or cry out, the scavenger knew that it was dead and dug in with its beak.

  Colonel Kuhr, along with hundreds of his soldiers, had become food for the carrion feeders. His body would be found when infantry reinforcements arrived a day later. Too late to help repel the Terrans, the soldiers collected and cremated the remains.

  Chapter 45

  Sheridan’s throat was as parched as the desert he was looking down on. He had stopped halfway down the hill and hid himself behind a rocky outcropping until the Kurgans had sorted themselves out. He cursed his luck when he saw an aged sergeant with scars all over his face take charge of the mob. He would have preferred a young officer who could have been provoked into making a rash decision, the NCO, on the other hand, would be calculating. Sheridan had no idea if his plan would work, but he had to do something to waste time.

  The sergeant let out a deep bellow, pointed up at the crest of the hill, and began to lead the warriors forward.

  It was time. Sheridan clenched his sword tight in his hand and stood up. He brandished his curved blade over his head and cried out.

  The Kurgans stopped and looked up at Sheridan. The sergeant raised a hand to stop the soldiers behind him.

  Sheridan knew there was no turning back now. He lowered his sword and aimed it at the sergeant. “I, Captain Michael Sheridan, son of Admiral Robert Sheridan, challenge you to Kavana. The prize will be my life and the life of all the people still alive on the top of the hill.”

  The sergeant chortled. “You—a human—challenge me to single combat.”

  “Yes,” replied Sheridan, trying to sound as confident as he could.

  “Why should I accept your challenge? I can just as easily walk up there and cut your head off with my sword.”

  “Because the honor of your corps demands that you accept my challenge. Or are you afraid of losing to a human?”

  “I am afraid of nothing, especially an unbeliever like you.”

  “Then accept my challenge.”

  “Very well. I, Sergeant Kurka of the House Kurka, accept on one condition.”

  Sheridan had not expected there to be negotiations over his death. He went along with it to kill more time. “Name it.”

  “I will fight you, but not down here,” replied Kurka. “I want to fight you on the top the hill in front of your people. They can watch as I slice your head from your neck, knowing that they will be next.”

  “I agree,” Sheridan said, wishing that the sergeant hadn’t proposed such a spectacle. He turned and clamored back up to the top of the hill.

  “Michael!” called out Tarina the instant she saw him. She went to run to his side, only to see him raise a hand and shake his head, telling her to stay where she was.

  Sheridan moved over to a flat spot on the hill that wasn’t covered with too many Kurgan soldiers’ bodies and striped off his shirt. For the first time in days, he wished he could have had a drink to calm his nerves. A shot of Scotch, he thought, would go down good right now. He looked back toward the mine hoping to see a squadron of ships coming to rescue them. Instead, he saw a couple of scavengers flying in a circle high above the hill as if waiting in anticipation of dining on him a few minutes from now.

  Slowly the Kurgan company filed up onto the crest of the hill and moved over to where Sheridan was standing. They cleared away their fallen comrades’ bodies before forming up around him. They kept one side open so Tarina and the other survivors could watch the fight to the death.

  Sergeant Kurka walked into the makeshift arena and did something Sheridan had not expected. He reached up and unbuckled the armor from his neck. Piece by piece he peeled it off his upper torso. The old warrior’s body was covered with scars, especially his back.

  “I see you looking at my reminders,” said Kurka to Sheridan. “I was whipped as a young soldier for failing to salute an officer I had not noticed standing in a doorway. While recovering, I re-read the scriptures and became closer with the Lord. For that, I thank him each and every day. As a nonbeliever, you can pray to whatever human god you wish to. It won’t help you. I’m going to kill you and give your head to my colonel as a gift.”

  Sheridan shrugged his shoulders in response.

  “What the hell are they doing?” Tarina asked Sergeant Lee, unsure of what was going on.

  “Mister Sheridan has called out their leader by the looks of it,” replied Lee. “He knows that we don’t have enough ammo or people left to fight off that many Kurgs. He’s probably brokered a deal with that big bastard.”

  “What kind of deal?”

  “If he wins, we get to live.”

  “And if he loses?”

  “Then we all die.”

  Tarina shook her head. She wasn’t afraid to die. She had been
preparing for the day she would forfeit her life ever since she had been taken prisoner. She did, however, fear losing the only man in her life that she could ever love.

  Sergeant Kurka twirled his sword around in the air. He glanced over at Sheridan and said, “Do you have any last words you wish to pass on to your friends?”

  Sheridan grinned. “I’ll tell them after I’ve killed you.”

  “So be it. Captain Michael Sheridan, son of Admiral Robert Sheridan, prepare to die.” Kurka stepped forward and brought up his sword to cleave Sheridan’s head in two.

  Sheridan stepped back slightly and bent at the knees ready to move in an instant. He saw the sword held high in the air and jumped to his right just as the blade swung through the air, missing him by mere millimeters. He turned and swung his sword at his opponent’s outstretched arm. The sharp blade sunk home, cutting a deep groove in Kurka’s thick, leathery skin.

  Kurka hissed in pain and pulled his arm back. He moved back a couple of paces and clapped a hand over the wound. It was a nasty cut. Blood flowed freely through the sergeant’s fingers. He chuckled. “Now I have a souvenir to remind me of this day.” Behind him, some of his warriors chuckled at the remark.

  Sheridan kept his eyes fixed on the Kurgan’s eyes, not his sword. He knew that the sergeant’s eyes would betray his next move.

  Kurka brought his blood-covered hand to his mouth and licked the blood off his fingers. “For a human, you’re not too bad with a sword.” He brought up his weapon and stepped to one side. Sheridan could see Kurka studying him, looking for any sign of weakness. A second later, the Kurgan lunged at his prey, slashing his sword at Sheridan’s neck.

  With lightning-fast reflexes, Sheridan jumped back, avoiding the thrust to his throat. He spun about and shot his blade at the sergeant’s exposed side. He felt it cut through skin and muscle.