Revelations (The Boris Chronicles Book 3)

by Paul C. Middleton

  Even with their enhanced strength, the two of them couldn’t move Gyada’s unconscious armored bulk by themselves. They relaxed slightly when one of them, Mikhail, noticed her wounds closing. “Comrade, she will not pass away here at least. But how will we get her onto the truck?” his partner, Anton, asked.

  “We shall have to wait I suppose. Tell the radioman, when he gets here, to ask for the field ambulance with the heavy-duty stretcher.”

  “They won’t bring any of the field ambulances this far out, Mikhail. You know that.”

  “No, but we will need it at the inner patrol line. The truck will be used to bolster our defenses, I imagine. Perhaps with the help of the other Weres, we will manage to get her up there. In the meantime, look for some stout branches. If it comes to it, three of us should be able to drag her out of here on a sled.”

  Mikhail had answered the unasked and unnecessary question. There was no way after what she had just done they were going to leave Gyada for the enemy.

  He spat on the ground. His family had served Boris for a long time. They had legends about the Cat shifters. Usually, it took five or more wolves to bring one down. Gyada had fought one to a draw, by herself. He respected that.

  This was not someone who would be left behind.

  He went to the truck and turned on the engine heater. Most vehicles designed for use in the far north had one. Otherwise, there was no way to start an engine in high winter. Mikhail had just gotten the truck running smoothly when he heard the Spartans moving in.

  “Jory, Hajek, come here, please. Help us get Gyada loaded on the truck.” Mikhail yelled. Turning to the Sergeant, he said, “No faster than twenty klicks per hour, Sarge. And the others will have to help keep Gyada on. She’s alive but unconscious.”

  With some effort, the four shifted Weres managed to get Gyada onto the bed and wedged between two of the tubes. They couldn’t make it too tight, or they’d risk injuring her further. Once she was safely in the truck bed, Gyada let out a deep sigh of relief without ever regaining consciousness.

  With four soldiers securing the larger Were in place, and one holding down Elena, the rest of the wolves changed back to their human forms. The truck took off for their own base. With all the extra weight, the Sergeant would have been surprised if their little group could have moved faster than the suggested speed.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  Battle of New Romonovka.

  The damned Sacred Clan and their forces had been probing for nearly two days since they broke off the abortive assault that Gyada’s patrol had stopped. Even though the enemy forces were taking attritional casualties, Boris was forced to station nearly a thousand of his two and a half thousand force around the Town and Pod hanger. Additional troops had to be positioned in the cave. His patrols were also taking damage. He’d lost an entire long range patrol to a pair of Werecats, and another patrol had been injured so severely that they were effectively out of action.

  The only reason that anyone had survived was Janna had been nearby and driven off the attack. The constant harassing tactics had forced Boris to move his Spartan patrols to reinforce the inner patrols. He, Alecta, and Gyada, who claimed she was fully recovered, were acting as a rapid-reaction strike force for the town and cave. Janna and Paul were out with the patrols, to give them some cover. For the first time since they had left, he wished he had the full Siberian Were pack here.

  He was unconvinced that Gyada was fully recovered. Lilith refused to comment, but the injured eye, though grown back, was still cloudy. Even injured, her presence and skill on the field reduced the casualties they might otherwise have taken.

  Boris hated having no good options. The attackers’ tactics made it clear that this was not a full assault, but a raid which would be harder to defend against. They had two prime targets, even if one would be more complicated than they expected. He had to protect both objectives and the town - if there was obvious damage there, then the Government might send its own forces in against it. He was spread too thin… and knew it. Some women had volunteered to shoot from fixed positions. Without that, he wouldn’t have had enough firepower to be able to send the patrols out.

  He now estimated the enemy force at somewhat over two thousand, even with the hundred or so enemy casualties from successful defensive actions against their probes.

  Boris decided to call Stephen. He was going to take casualties in this engagement, even more than he had now. He could prevent those casualties by calling on Black Eagle support, and he knew it. But he was unsure of Bethany Anne’s reaction. He needed to talk to someone who knew her better.

  Stephen’s voice was on the line in a moment, “Boris, Good to hear from you. The fight goes well?”

  “Neyt, my friend, it does not. But I have other concerns. I do not know the Czarina as well as you do. What is her likely reaction if the Government here decides that using Black Eagles after they have asked us not to is offensive and they throw an attack at me?”

  There was silence on the line for a moment. Then with a sigh, Stephen asked, “Do you really think the government would do that? Be that stupid?”

  It was Boris’ turn to sigh. “I give it a sixty percent or better chance. I have also thought about why she refused me a MotherPucker. She was right. Neither of us need those deaths on our souls. Besides, these are Russian lives. If I have to take some casualties to protect them, I will.”

  There was silence over the connection as Stephen contemplated the issue. Both he and Boris were from a different age. The blood washed from their souls faster than it did their Queen’s. He knew it. It was obvious what Boris suspected. But there was a point beyond which Bethany Anne would tear a strip off his hide for not using all the resources he had.

  “How many casualties do you think you will take, and how many have you already taken?”

  Boris answered, “Twelve MIA, presumed KIA. Eight KIA. Forty-three injured. I would estimate no more than a hundred dead total. Wounded? That is trickier. No more than three hundred? Many of them walking wounded.”

  Steven was silent for a moment, then asked, “Why so high?”

  “They have some old Chinese Type 97 one-fifty millimeter heavy mortars.”

  “Are you sure you can keep your casualties down without the Black Eagles?”

  “Between the five greater weres we have here, yes. When they finally show their hand, we will be there to counter them.”

  “Then yes. Decline to use the Black Eagle support. None of us want her to have caused those casualties. Ultimately, she gave you judgement over Russia, and she will respect your decision, even if she could never understand why the Russians would be… pushed to act against you after a display of the force she could release against them. We need her to keep her bright soul.”

  It was Stephen’s time to sigh. “There will be more than enough dead to risk her soul soon enough. I do not believe either of us wish to rush the coming of that day.”

  Boris thought about it some more. Were the casualties he would take worth it for those in government? Probably not. But for those killed around those in the government offices should Bethany Anne strike? Then yes, he and his people were Russians. They sometime understood better than westerners the concept of a necessary sacrifice.

  “I thank you for your counsel, Stephen. Now I have a battle to fight. Later.”

  “Just make sure you are around for the later, Boris. If you get more attackers than you have currently estimated, use the Black Eagles and damn the consequences. The people have some responsibility. They elected the government, after all.”

  With a grimace Boris answered, “Clear,” before cutting the line.

  He stood there a moment, thinking. What worried him most was this was obviously a raid. One with a powerful and risky support element. But with their forces roughly equal in number to his, they weren't planning on capturing the town and its sites.

  Given the political considerations, he had to defend the town, even though it now stood empty with its popula
tion evacuated to the cave system. He had been particularly worried about how they'd managed to fit a pair of 150mm mortars on a truck like that. It was a rough workaround, and accuracy wouldn't be great from the report he'd received on how they were fitted to the vehicle.

  That was beside the point.

  If attackers turned the mortar fire on the town, Boris would be screwed. He'd have to call Bethany Anne down when the government decided to move in, considering the town 'indefensible' with the forces he had available. He could see their concerns. Hell, it was even somewhat justified.

  A further concern to him was the Government hadn't warned him. Without ADAM, this attack would have been a complete surprise. He had to maul the attacking forces so badly they would not consider trying again.

  Although if another attack snuck past the government, he'd use that as justification for asking if Barnabas might be free for a few days?

  Cleaning out a few incompetent people in government might sort out their problem with detecting large forces moving to attack towns. Boris knew that Bethany Anne would have to agree with that plan. Unfortunately, he did not think that she would approve, at least yet.

  One of the radio techs passed on a message "Sir, they seem to be making a push to take the town. An assault force estimated to be about three hundred is forming up to spearhead the attack. Should I divert some of the reserves?"

  Boris thought about it for a minute. Then he asked, "Any mortar fire on the town?"

  "No, sir."

  "If there is no mortar fire on the town within the next five minutes the attackers are definitely using the harassment as a distraction. Keep reserves in their positions unless mortars start falling on the town within five minutes."

  "Yes, sir."

  It was half an hour before anything other than small unit combat chatter came over the radio. Boris had just seated himself with his earpiece in place when the next major attack report came in. "Mortars are punching a hole in our lines. Sector 12 North. Troops are vacating the path of their walk, but a force is preparing to move in right behind the mortar fire. A large one. I don't think we'll be able to hold without reinforcements. Estimate four hundred soldiers and a large, repeat, large, supporting force of Weres leapfrogging, using fire and maneuver tactics."

  Roughly half the soldiers would be laying down single shot covering fire while the other half moved forward. It was a common tactic, but that didn't make it any less effective. The volume of fire would mean his defenders would have to keep their heads down until the enemy was close enough, potentially, for a bayonet charge. The Weres only added to that danger. Boris swore. Was this their primary attack or not? He simply had no idea at this point. They could be using two distractions, convincing him to put his reserves into combat. An additional report came through "Tiger spotted, repeat Tiger spotted."

  That tore it. The tiger would only be present if that were the main attack. "Send the first and second companies of reserves. Hold back the third." The companies were made up of eighty infantrymen and forty Weres.

  Another report came in "Janna is moving in on the tiger assault group." Boris let out a deep breath. At least he wouldn't have to send Gyada and Alecta to take out that tiger. That allowed him to keep them in reserve.

  Boris kept glancing at the cameras covering both sections that were under attack. North 12 and West 5. Something felt wrong about the situation. In 5 West, the attack was petering off - it was obviously a diversion. The caves were a difficult target, however. It seemed serious, mortars were still falling in patterns of eight then a pause. Obviously, the mortar carriers were moving every few shots.

  That made sense, as he had patrols out there that were zeroing in on the edges of the attack. If one of those patrols saw whatever mortar carrier was out there, it would make a high-value target. He wouldn't like it, but if they radioed him they had it in sight, he'd designated it an 'all costs' target. The sacrifice of a thirty-man patrol would probably save more than double that number of lives on the defensive line.

  Still, he'd be pushing harder. But then there was a tiger on the line, why would they place one of their most lethal assets on a diversion? He sent out an order for Gyada and Alecta to armor up now and link up with the third company of reserves. Maybe the caves made less sense to him as a target due to his knowledge of the caves nature. They'd be a complete FUBAR to attack, but for all he knew, they thought the alien tech was closer to the surface than it actually was.

  The attack went on, drawing troops on the perimeter towards the fight at North 12 like a magnet. Boris knew combat, and he was aware that any order he gave to stop the flow of his forces would only compromise his own authority. There was no chance it would be followed. The best he could hope from giving it was just slowing the shift of forces.

  Instead, he started ordering patrols back to thicken his lines. Troops that had been out for those patrols were more likely to hold the same position away from the action, due to sheer weariness. It wasn't the best solution since they wouldn't be as fresh as troops placed defensively from the start.

  It was, however, the best one he had.

  After three hours, with an extra two-hundred and fifty or so troops from various patrols bolstering his lines, the attacks on the town started again. Still no mortars, so he ignored them. Then he heard a radio message, "They're coming right over us. They came out of nowhere. South three is being overrun. Repeat South three..." then static. Boris swore and rose from his seat. The attack at North 12 was a diversion.

  "All available reserves to the hangar. Town and caves are a diversion. Repeat all available reserves to the hangar. External patrols shift towards sector south three at all speed, but do not engage until enemy is leaving.” He paused as he saw a mortar explode one of the cameras covering south three. “Unless you make contact with those damned mortar carriers. Those are all costs targets.”

  He ripped off the headquarters comms and grabbed his specially-designed equipment, throwing it to one of the techs as he started to change. The nervous tech cautiously placed the comm in his Pricolici form's ear. Once the tech stepped back, Boris ran to the door, grabbing his modified shotgun on the way past. This time it was loaded with silver backed, sharp point hardened slugs. They go through soldier’s armor like a hot knife through butter, and the silver would fall off behind any Were they went through causing them no end of pain and trouble.

  Boris swore as he approached the hanger. Either by design or accident, mortars had landed near the sheet-metal hangar doors, blowing them apart.

  There had to be over a thousand of the enemy troops coming through the hole in his defensive line near those doors. With Weretigers among them, he was entirely sure that they were Sacred Clan. Apparently losing their Empress to Bethany Anne wasn't enough for those cocksuckers.

  He was more surprised that they weren't attempting to enter the caves in some way. They were, after all, fanatics who were convinced alien tech were holy objects by all reports. And extremists took risks no sane people would.

  Maybe they'd convinced themselves that he'd moved some or all of the technology he'd found into the hangar. That showed how crazy they could be. No smart person would move alien tech from a highly defensible location into a far more exposed one. Unfortunately, this left the pods exposed to their attack, and they were streaming into the hangar. Scanning the field of action, Boris spotted Gyada and Alecta covering each other in their animal forms, fighting back to back against about twenty wolves. Letting the shotgun drop on its strap, he charged the group of wolves surrounding them.

  With swipes of his paws, he shredded wolves, throwing their remains into the others that were still attacking the two women. Once he opened a hole in their encirclement, Gyada and Alecta went on the offensive. In less than a minute, the two or three survivors were fleeing for their lives. Gyada went to chase them down, but Boris stopped her with a growl. "Tooo thheee hanngger," he said in the growling voice that his half human form forced on him.

  As he moved towards the ha
nger, he heard a tiger's attacking snarl echo from within the building. There had only been twenty soldiers guarding the inside of the hangar. If he didn't hurry, the weretiger had a good chance of taking them all out by itself. That didn't even account for the added opposition infantry force that was streaming in. Grabbing up the shotgun from its strap, he started firing short bursts into the crowd of soldiers streaming into the hangar. When it clicked empty, he threw all caution to the wind.

  Letting the shotgun drop, Boris charged the mob of about a hundred soldiers. He caught them while they were still trying to funnel in through the breaks, slamming into the rear of the force like a furry tank. The enemy troops were caught in total surprise. They had been entirely focused on attempts to find whatever cover they could near the entrance against the withering fire from the defenders in and around the hangar.

  Boris was surprised to find Gyada had kept up with him on his rushing attack. She was doing a good job of covering his flank and back from attacks as individual Clan soldiers charged with fixed bayonets. Bullets bounced and whined off the armor they were both wearing, the sound barely audible in the noise of battle.