Colossus (The Kurgan War Book 2)

by Richard Turner

  Sheridan placed a hand on Cardoso’s shoulder. “I once heard a young mother say that at least her child would live. A parent’s love for their children can easily outweigh a political decision.”

  “I guess so, sir.”

  A Marine ran from a nearby building. He looked over at Second Lieutenant Cardoso and called out. “Sir, we got one. We found a survivor.”

  Sheridan, Cole, and Cardoso jogged over to the Marine.

  “In here,” said the man.

  Inside, they found an old man sitting in a rocking chair. He was dressed in clothes that looked like they had not been washed in months. His slender, weathered face was covered by a long white beard.

  “Sir, my name is Captain Michael Sheridan. My Marines and I are here to help you. Are there any other colonists still alive?”

  The old man looked over. His eyes were vacant and tired. He seemed to study Sheridan’s face for a few seconds before he turned his head and resumed staring out of the window of his living room.

  Cole walked over with an empty food container. “Looks like the old timer was eating one of these a day. There’s a stack of them in the kitchen. He’s damned lucky the dogs haven’t gotten to him yet.”

  Sheridan knelt down beside the man. “Sir, can you tell me your name?”

  The man sat silent as if he were still the only person in the room.

  Cole walked to the front door and called for a corpsman. A young naval medic ran over. She walked into the room and placed her med bag down on a table.

  “Scan him for his ID,” said Cole to the corpsman.

  A medic dug out her med scanner and ran it behind the man’s neck. Each person on Illum Prime had been tagged with a microchip in case they were ever injured or killed. “Master Sergeant, his name is Jeremy Hill. He’s eighty-one years old and according to this info, he’s a widower.”

  “See to him, Corpsman,” said Sheridan, knowing that the man would probably never come out of his shock.

  “Why leave him here, sir?” asked Cardoso.

  “Why not? He’s no threat to them. They left him behind knowing that one day he’d die of starvation or dehydration.”

  “Heartless bastards,” said Cole.

  Sheridan glanced down at his watch. “All right, Mister Cardoso, we’ve still got a job to do. Get your people moving. I want to be up on those rocks in the next half-hour,” said Sheridan, pointing out the window at a long, rocky ridge less than a kilometer from the farming community.

  “Yes, sir,” Cardoso replied. He ran outside to his platoon sergeant, who soon had his people on the move again.

  Sheridan watched as Cardoso got his platoon and advanced toward their objective. Although he was only a few years older than his platoon leaders, Sheridan felt much older. Gone were the days of the four years at the Academy before taking command of a platoon. The armed forces back home were pumping out platoon leaders after only ninety days of intensive training. Thankfully, the NCO corps were still relatively experienced to make up for the officer’s shortfalls. However, Sheridan knew that the longer the war dragged on, the younger and less battle-hardened the squad leaders would become.

  “Sir, do you think the rest of the Corps are in contact with the Kurgans?” Cole asked as he kicked an empty can down the empty street.

  “I don’t know,” Sheridan replied. “I guess so. After all, according to the intelligence estimates that I read, they had dug in around the capital and were expected to fight to the death.”

  “I gotta tell you, it’s real quiet out here . . . way too quiet for my liking.”

  “I was thinking the same thing.” Sheridan keyed his mic. “Private Green, anything coming in from the UAV?”

  “No, sir. There’s nothing out there,” reported Green.

  “Use the thermal camera and check the hills in front of us for signs of life.”

  “Same thing. Nothing to report, sir.”

  “I don’t buy it. That’s a load of bollocks,” said Cole.

  Sheridan and Cole exchanged a look. They did not have to speak to know what the other one was thinking.

  “Sir, you need to send out more scouts. I’ll go back. Have the weapons platoon brought up right away to cover the advance.”

  Cole had barely gone five meters when all hell broke out.

  An automated Kurgan chain gun hidden among the rocks on the hill in front of Sheridan’s company popped up and opened fire. It sounded like a buzz saw cutting through the air.

  Cardoso’s lead squad was ripped to shreds as the chain gun traversed along the line of Marines trapped out in the open.

  A second later, the remainder of the Kurgan ambush opened fire. They had been hiding underground, invisible to the prying eyes of the drone. Bullets flew thick. Mortar rounds whistling through the air soon added to the cacophony of death and destruction.

  Sheridan dove to the ground. He reached for his radio only to find that a bullet had torn right through his handset. He swore, rolled over, and looked behind him. He quickly spotted Corporal Garcia and the fire support team laying on the ground. Sheridan yelled, “Garcia, get on to battalion and get some fire brought down on that ridgeline!”

  Garcia waved back and grabbed her handset.

  Sheridan saw that they had walked straight into a Kurgan kill zone. Marines caught out in the open were killed where they lay. He cursed himself for having not spotted it earlier. They were too far from the camp to use it for cover.

  Cole dashed forward and dropped to the ground right beside Sheridan. “Sir, we can’t stay out here.”

  Bullets tore up the ground in front of Sheridan showering him with dirt and sand. “I know. “Did you manage to get Gunnery Sergeant Jones’ weapons’ teams on the move?”

  “Yeah, they’re right behind me.” As if to reinforce Cole’s words, a couple of machine gun teams opened up, trying to suppress the Kurgans hidden amongst the rocks.

  Garcia called out, “Sir, battalion says we are on our own. Bravo Company got hit just before we did and are getting chewed to pieces.”

  Sheridan gritted his teeth. He had to do something and fast, or there would be nothing left of his company. They only had one possibility open to them. They had to move forward. He looked over at Cole and said, “Time to earn our pay.” With that he jumped up to his feet. At the top of his lungs, Sheridan yelled. “Cardoso, cover us. Everyone else with me, advance!”

  Cardoso’s surviving Marines doubled their rate of fire.

  With his rifle clenched tight in his hands, Sheridan ran forward for about twenty paces before dropping to one knee. He brought up his assault rifle and fired off a burst at the enemy position, hoping to hit someone or at least keep their heads down. Cole ran past him and did the same. Spread out over a couple of hundred meters, Sheridan’s troops fought their way forward. Some fell dead or wounded, while the remainder sought to sell their lives as dear as possible.

  It did not take them long to reach the base of the hill. Sheridan took cover behind a boulder and paused to catch his breath. Cole and Garcia ran to join him. “Anything from battalion?” he asked Garcia.

  “Yes, sir, we have just been allocated a company of mortars,” she replied.

  “Thank God. Have them pound the living crap out of the top of the ridgeline for two minutes. After that, have them switch to a mix of high explosive and smoke for two minutes to cover our advance. Make sure Green knows to help coord the fire with her UAV feed.”

  Garcia passed the order.

  Sheridan looked at his company hugging the rocks for cover. He could see that he had already lost a third of his strength, and they still had to climb up a steep hill under enemy fire. Fear was etched on the faces of his Marines, almost none of whom had ever been in combat.

  “Master Sergeant, have the company fix bayonets,” ordered Sheridan.

  Cole nodded. “With pleasure, sir.”

  The sound of mortar rounds whistling as they flew through the air was a welcome sound. Sheridan turned his attention to the top of th
e hill. A couple of seconds later, the shells exploded, sending rocks and sand flying up into the air. The ridgeline was soon shrouded in dust as the mortars pounded the Kurgan trenches. He counted down in his head, judging how much time it would take him to get to the top of the hill while the mortar bombs were still raining down. When he got to two minutes, he stood up and waved his arm forward. With a loud, lusty cheer, his company sprang to their feet and charged up the hill. Sheridan knew that once the fight had started there was little he could do to influence the outcome, it was a squad leader’s battle now.

  Behind them, Cardoso and the weapons teams fired above their heads adding to the weight of fire already pounding the Kurgan position.

  Through the smoke, Sheridan could see the muzzle flash from a Kurgan machine gun. He brought up his rifle and fired off a long burst. Beside him, a Marine tumbled back dead with a hole shot through her helmet. Something inside Sheridan snapped. He’d had enough. He wanted the Kurgans to pay for all the agony they had inflicted on his company. With a primal yell on his lips, Sheridan ran straight at the machine gun nest.

  Cole saw his friend charge up the hill. He swore and ran after him.

  Bullets whipped past Sheridan as he closed in on the Kurgans. His blood boiled when he saw that they were Chosen soldiers; human auxiliaries that had been incorporated into the Kurgan Empire over a century ago. Before the Chosen could adjust their fire, Sheridan was on them. With a bloodlust gripping him, he jumped into the trench and stabbed the first man in the chest before pulling the trigger on his rifle to finish him off. Sheridan pulled his blood-stained bayonet, turned on his heel, and lunged at the next warrior, sinking his blade into the man’s stomach. The Chosen warrior moaned and dropped to his knees with his hands wrapped tight around Sheridan’s rifle.

  The last soldier in the machine gun nest reached down for his rifle. He turned to bring his weapon around, only to be shot at point-blank range by Cole.

  Sheridan tried pulling his weapon free. He found he could not. It was stuck tight inside his enemy’s entrails. He pushed harder, knocking the warrior over. Sheridan was not thinking straight. He yelled at the top of his lungs as he pulled the trigger of his assault rifle. Bullets chewed through his doomed prey.

  “Easy does it, sir,” said Cole, grabbing Sheridan by the shoulders. “Come back to me. He’s dead.”

  Sheridan turned his head. His eyes were glazed over; a look of pure hatred was written on his face.

  Cole placed his hands on Sheridan’s rifle and yanked back hard, pulling the blood-soaked weapon free. “You with me, boss?”

  Sheridan looked around at the bloodied corpses and nodded. He stepped back and took a deep breath to feed his racing heart.

  “Come on, sir, let’s see where this trench system leads,” said Cole pointing down at the tunnel system dug into the rocks.

  Sheridan took a deep breath to calm his raging heart. “Okay, let’s do this.”

  With Sheridan in the lead, they crept forward. The first people they came across were two Chosen warriors lying on the ground, killed during the mortar bombardment. They moved past the corpses and soon came to a sharp bend in the trench line. The sound of a machine gun firing told them that they had come across another weapons pit.

  Sheridan looked back at Cole. Both men dug out a fragmentation grenade and pulled the safety clip. On three, they tossed their grenades around the corner. With a loud crump, the hand grenades went off. Sheridan and Cole ran around the corner into a swirling cloud of dust kicked up by the grenades. They fired off a couple of bursts into the Chosen warriors sprawled out on the ground to make sure they were dead.

  Gunfire hit the top of the trench just above Sheridan’s head forcing him to duck. He pivoted on his feet, just in time to see a Kurgan officer in full armor charging at him with his sword drawn. He stood two and a half meters tall with reddish-brown leathery skin. The Kurgan had a short snout and bright golden yellow eyes. His body was protected with dark gray armor from the bottom of his feet all the way up to his neck. Sheridan tried to bring up his rifle but was hit head-on by the charging Kurgan. He flew back against the rocky wall. The Kurgan hissed at Sheridan and brought back his sword to thrust it into his prey’s unprotected neck.

  A shot rang out.

  The Kurgan seemed to freeze and then slowly fall to one side. A bloody hole had been blasted through its head. Sheridan scrambled back on his hands and feet trying to get away from the enemy officer as it fell to the ground. He turned his head and saw Cole standing there with his rifle tucked into his shoulder.

  “Thanks,” said Sheridan. He picked up his rifle and brushed the dust off it.

  “Think nothing of it, sir,” replied Cole. “I’ve told you to be careful. I don’t have the time nor the patience to train a new officer.”

  All around them the sound of battle began to diminish.

  Sheridan ignored the dead officer at his feet and moved over to the destroyed Kurgan machine gun position. He climbed up onto one knee and took a quick look around. Sheridan could see all along the ridgeline. His Marines were inside the trench line digging out the last surviving Chosen warriors. None would willingly surrender. They preferred death over capture. He climbed down and edged forward until he could look out of a gun port. It had a clear field of fire out into the Kurgans’ kill zone. Below he could see medical corpsmen moving from one wounded Marine to the next trying to see which ones they could save from those they would drug up and leave to die. His stomach dropped when he saw how many bodies lay still.

  He stepped back from the frightful scene “Come on, Master Sergeant,” said Sheridan, “let’s see how bad we’ve been cut up.”

  Chapter 3

  Sheridan and Cole stood at the bottom of the hill and watched as the medical transport took off, carrying the last of their dead and wounded. He had lost thirty-six Marines: seventeen dead and nineteen wounded. Just over one-third of his company had been laid low in under five minutes. Cardoso and his platoon sergeant had both been killed. What was left of his platoon had been formed into two under-strength squads under Gunnery Sergeant Jones.

  Cole nudged Sheridan when he spotted Major Niru walking toward them. With him was Sergeant Major Roca, the senior non-commissioned officer in the battalion. Sheridan was amazed that Roca had somehow survived the crash of the headquarters landing craft.

  “How did it go, Michael?” asked Niru.

  “Not good, sir,” replied Sheridan, his voice sounded weary. “We got caught out in the open and lost too many good Marines. It’s my fault. I should have seen it coming.”

  Cole stepped forward. “With all due respect, sir, if anyone is to blame, it’s me. I’ve been ambushed a couple of times in the past and should have warned Captain Sheridan to be wary.”

  “Gentlemen, no one is to blame,” said Niru. “Bravo Company has all but ceased to exist. I have had to combine their survivors with Charlie Company. The enemy laid a perfect trap and we all fell into it. To be honest, I am surprised that any of us are still alive. Captain Sheridan, how many Kurgans did you find on the hill?”

  “Sir, it was nothing more than a couple of reinforced Chosen squads. The trench system up there is impressive. It is designed for all-around defense and could have easily held a company. Why they didn’t have more troops up there is a mystery.”

  “They must have pulled them to guard the capital.”

  “Captain Duval, did he make it?” Sheridan asked Niru of his friend who had commanded Bravo Company.

  Niru shook his head. He got down on one knee, drew his bayonet and slid it through the sand at his feet. “Okay, until we are relieved, I will divide the battalion in half. Michael, you will command the right flank of the position. I’ll augment you with a couple of squads to flesh-out your line.” Niru pointed up at the ridgeline until it came to a prominent rock that looked like a bear standing on its hind legs. “You will hold the line from that feature over to the right. Captain Grub will command everything to the left of the feature.”

/>   “Understood,” replied Sheridan. “How long will we be in location, sir?”

  “At least seventy-two to ninety-six hours. Now, Michael, you are the right of the line. There is no one else other than a few reconnaissance detachments guarding the flank of this position. I have been told that we should not expect an enemy counterattack. However, should they come, you cannot leave your trenches. If you do, the Kurgans will swing around our lines and be in among the rear echelon forces before anyone could do anything to stop them.”

  “Got it, sir. Can we get a minefield placed on our right flank?”

  “I’ll speak to regimental headquarters and have the guns drop one from the end of your line for about five hundred meters.”

  “Thanks, sir.”

  “Captain, you and your people did good today. I’ll make sure that your ammo and water supplies get replenished,” said Sergeant Major Roca.

  “Thanks, Sergeant Major.”

  “Oh, one last thing before I leave,” said Niru. “A sandstorm is reportedly coming our way. It will be blowing down on us from the north. I was told that it should be here by noon tomorrow.”

  “A sandstorm, very good, sir,” replied Sheridan wondering if the day could get any worse. With a storm blowing in their faces, they would not be able to see the Kurgans until they were literally standing on top of the hill. “Sir, how long are they predicting it will last?”

  “One to two days is the norm on Illum Prime.”

  “I guess we’ll have to hunker down for a little while then.”

  Sheridan and Cole shook their counterpart’s hands and watched them walk away to their makeshift command post between the two companies.

  “Sir, we need to get you a new handset,” said Cole as he pulled Sheridan’s shot one from his radio and tossed it to the ground.

  “I think Garcia carries extras with her.”

  “Yeah, she does. The sooner you get it and can communicate with the tactical operations center, the better.”

  Sheridan looked at Cole. “Why would you say that?”