“He’s not a bad officer. I just wish he was more concerned about his platoon than he was about what I thought about him,” said Sheridan. “Careerism at his rank needs to be squashed like a bug. If he does his job and does it well, that is all that matters in my eyes.”
Cole placed a hand on Sheridan’s shoulder. “Sir, Mister Jindal sees military service as a stepping stone to another career. So having a glowing personnel file is all he cares about. Not everyone is a lifer like you.”
“Master Sergeant, who said I’m in this for life?”
Cole snorted. “I did. Now, sir, let’s see if the good Mister Jindal has coffee on for us.”
Chapter 6
Tarina Pheto placed the brand new silver captain’s bars on her blue flight suit’s collar. She looked at herself in the mirror and smiled. Tarina knew her parents back home in Soweto would be proud of her and her accomplishments. The only problem was that she was not allowed to tell them—or anyone—what she really did. According to her service records, Captain Pheto was a pilot in a lowly transport squadron operating just outside of Earth’s solar system. In reality, she was a deep-reconnaissance pilot with the First Special Warfare Squadron.
There was a beep at her door.
“Come in,” said Tarina.
Wendy Sullivan, also newly promoted, walked in. She had short red hair and had a slim athletic build. Her slender face was covered in tiny freckles. She stopped the instant she saw her friend. “My God, Tarina, what have you done?”
“Oh, this?” replied Tarina with a smile as she ran a hand through her very short hair. She had dyed it snow-white the night before, which made it really stand out against her dark brown skin.
“Yes, that. If you thought having a shaved head as a woman made you look different, wait until everyone sees what you’ve done with your hair.”
“Do you like it?”
Wendy smiled. “Of course I do. In fact, it suits you. Now let’s get a move on. The scuttlebutt floating around the ship is that Colonel Wright is back and we have new orders.”
Colonel Wright had been severely wounded during a firefight on Derra-5. His return to the unit was highly anticipated by his loyal and devoted team.
The two women made their way to the main hangar bay and joined the remainder of the squadron standing around trading rumors and stories about how the war was progressing.
Lieutenant-Colonel Fareed strode over to the lectern in the middle of the room. “Good morning, everyone. Please take a seat and we’ll get down to work.”
The pilots, navigators, and technicians who made up the First Special Warfare Squadron took their places.
“First off, I’d like to thank all of you for your support over these past six months,” said Fareed. “However, my time as the acting CO of the squadron has come to an end. Colonel Wright has once more assumed command of the unit.”
“And judging by the look of Captain Pheto’s hairstyle, it’s not a minute too soon,” said Wright as he walked over and stood by Fareed. The hangar bay broke out in raucous laughter. Tarina stood there shaking her head as her colleagues ran their hands over her white hair.
Wright looked as fit as a fiddle and ready to get back into the war. “In all seriousness though, I cannot thank Lieutenant-Colonel Fareed enough for his sterling service. And as a consequence of that service, I have the honor to announce that my former XO will be leaving us and taking over as the commanding officer of a fighter squadron onboard the Saratoga.”
Loud and enthusiastic applause filled the room.
Wright raised his hands to quiet down his subordinates. “Lieutenant-Colonel Tolinski will be arriving via shuttle later today. There will be a meet and greet in the mess at nineteen hundred hours tonight to welcome the unit’s new XO. Now I suppose that rumor control has been running rampant ever since we jumped into orbit above Illum Prime and joined the Sixth Fleet. Well, I’m here to put an end to those rumors. I have received orders from Admiral Sheridan that effective immediately our mission is to hunt for and find the Kurgan carriers that escaped destruction with the remainder of the enemy fleet. All other tasks are now considered secondary. I gave my word to the admiral that we can and will find those carriers. And as you all know, I do not break my word.”
“Attention,” said Fareed for the last time. The squadron got to its feet and stood at attention.
Wendy looked over at Tarina and smiled. She had been waiting for an assignment for weeks.
Tarina watched as Wright and Fareed left the hangar. Like her navigator, Tarina was happy to get back to work; however, her mind was elsewhere. She knew that Michael Sheridan was somewhere on the planet’s surface fighting for his life. Where she did not know. All she knew was that every day that went by without a message from his father was a good thing in her books.
Chapter 7
“My God,” said Sheridan as he stared at the rapidly approaching sandstorm. He had never seen anything like it in his life. It almost looked alive. To Sheridan, it looked like a towering, tan-colored wave that consumed everything in its path. It stood over two kilometers high and stretched across the horizon. Lightning arced like jagged, silver pitchforks through the swirling clouds of dust.
“The drone is in, sir,” reported York. “I left the suppression units out there.”
“Thanks,” replied Sheridan unable to take his eyes off the storm as it raced over the desert floor.
“Ma’am, did you place the guns on weapons free?” asked Cole.
“Yes, Master Sergeant.” The guns were on their own now to engage targets that they deemed a threat.
Cole handed Sheridan a scarf. “Here, sir, wear this around your mouth.”
Sheridan nodded and took the scarf. “Did the platoons send runners to Miss York?”
“Yes, and I dispatched one to battalion headquarters as well,” replied Cole. Both men knew that once the storm hit, their high-tech equipment would most likely fail. If the massive electrical interference thrown up by the sandstorm did not play havoc with their gear, the dust would. Once again, they were stepping back in time and using runners to pass information for the next day or so.
“Okay then, have the platoons go down to twenty-five percent manning,” said Sheridan to York. “No one is to be out in this storm for more than an hour at a time.”
“I’ll pass the word, sir,” replied York.
“So what do you think, sir? Will the enemy try and use the storm to launch a counterattack?” asked Cole.
“Master Sergeant, what would you do if you were in their shoes?”
“I’d attack. What have they to lose? Their fleet has been destroyed or has abandoned them. If I were them, I’d try and take out as many of us as I could before being overwhelmed and destroyed by our forces.”
“Then they’re coming, and we won’t see them until they are right on top of us.”
The noise of the storm raging outside of the bunker sounded like a ravenous beast was clawing at the flimsy ground sheet they had thrown up to block out the wind. Inside the small room dug into the rock, Sheridan, Cole, York, and three other Marines sat on their packs staring at the stove as it boiled a pot of water.
Cole broke the silence. “It’s coming up on twenty-one hundred hours. Sir, why don’t you and I do a quick line tour before we bed down for the night.”
Sheridan stood up. Doing something, even walking around in the storm was preferable to doing nothing. He looked down at the laptop near York and saw that the feed coming from the satellites have ceased to work. They were well and truly on their own.
The door to the bunker flipped open. Sand and wind whipped inside. A second later, a Marine covered in dust ran in, turned about, and secured the door before pulling down his scarf. It was Private Seksan, the Marine Cole had dispatched to battalion headquarters. In his hand was a note. He immediately gave the message to Sheridan.
“How are things outside?” Cole asked the young Marine.
“It’s awful, Master Sergeant,” replied Seksan “
I had to use my hand to feel along the wall to find my way.”
Cole passed the young man a cup of cold water to drink. He looked over at Sheridan. “So what’s the skinny, sir?”
“It’s a sitrep from higher,” said Sheridan. “The First Armored and Third Marine Divisions have pushed into the capital and have destroyed or severely degraded three Kurgan divisions. The Nineteenth Marine and Fourth Mechanized Divisions are moving to surround the city.”
“Any word on enemy active in our neck of the woods?”
Sheridan shook his head. “Corps does not feel that there is a viable threat in our region of the battlespace.”
“Wonderful. An assessment made by people in the rear who have never been in combat really makes me feel safe. A shaman with his bag of bones probably has a better chance of divining the enemy’s intentions.”
“Sarcasm won’t help, Master Sergeant.”
“Just calling it as I see it, sir.”
Sheridan signed the note and handed it back to the Marine. With a look of deep reluctance on his face, the young man tucked the message away and stepped back out into the storm.
“Shall we,” said Cole, motioning to the door.
“Sure why not,” replied Sheridan as he wrapped his scarf around his face.
They had been out in the storm earlier. However, the past couple of hours it seemed to have picked up in its intensity. Sand flew thick through the narrow trench line. Cole tapped Sheridan on the shoulder. “Keep to the right,” he yelled, trying to be heard over the howling wind.
In the dark, Sheridan could not see more than a couple of meters in front of him. He placed his right hand against the rocky wall and slowly began to walk. The first Marines they came across were huddled down trying to block the wind from whipping in their faces.
Cole grabbed the closest Marine and pulled him to him. “Private, you can’t see anything from the bottom of your trench,” admonished Cole.
“Master Sergeant, we can’t see a thing in this storm anyway,” protested the Marine.
“I don’t care. You’re only put here for an hour. Now stick your head up, or you’ll live to regret it.”
“Yes, Master Sergeant,” said the man, sounding as if he had just been given the death penalty.
Cole turned about and leaned over to speak into Sheridan’s ear. “Sir, I hate to say it but we’re gonna see this all down the line. Unless the platoons force their men to keep their heads up, they’re not going to.”
“I’ll speak with the platoon leaders.”
“I’ll do the same with the NCOs. This is their job,” said Cole firmly.
After an hour pushing their way through the swirling sand, Cole and Sheridan finally reached the last position on the far right of the line. They took refuge from the storm in the bunker with Roberts and Tammy. Covered in dust and sand, both men looked more like statues that had come to life than Marines.
“Please don’t take this the wrong way but you two look like you were dunked in water and then rolled around in the sand for a couple of weeks,” said Roberts.
“I feel that way,” replied Sheridan, shaking the dust from his uniform.
“How are things going here?” Cole asked.
“Quiet, I guess,” responded Roberts. “Tammy hasn’t smelt anything. Although, in this weather I’m not sure what she could smell.”
Cole patted Tammy on the head. “She saved our bacon a couple of times back on Derra-5. If any dog can smell a Kurgan a kilometer away, it’s this one.”
Sheridan turned his head and looked back to the closed door of the bunker. “Did you hear that?”
“No, sir,” replied Cole. “What did you hear?”
“That,” said Sheridan.
Cole strained to hear above the sound of the wind. A couple of seconds later, he faintly heard the dull crump of an explosion, quickly followed by another one. “The minefield?”
Sheridan nodded.
“It could be debris blown up by the storm or animals tripping the mines,” said Cole.
All of a sudden Tammy growled and got up on her haunches. She glared at the doorway and bared her teeth.
The hair on the back of Sheridan’s neck went straight up. He grabbed his rifle and rushed out into blinding storm. In the distance more mines exploded.
Sheridan spun on his heel and began to run back down the darkened trench line.
“Stand to,” bellowed Cole as he ran with Sheridan.
The enemy was coming.
Chapter 8
Sheridan had barely run fifty paces when he tripped over something lying at the bottom of the trench. He fell facefirst onto the rocky ground. A second later, Cole fell on top of him. Sheridan rolled over and crawled out from underneath Cole. His temper flared when he saw that he had tripped over a couple of Marines sitting at the bottom of the trench, who had pulled a blanket over the top of them to block out the wind. He had no time to waste on the two men, he had to spread the warning. He jumped up to his feet and kept going. Behind him, he could hear Cole swearing up a blue streak at the men.
Sheridan nearly fell again. This time his feet caught on a sand drift formed from the blowing sand being dumped into the trench line. He had to stop for a moment to calm himself down before he really had an accident. He felt a hand on his shoulder.
“You all right, sir?” asked Cole.
“Yeah, I just had to stop for a second,” replied Sheridan.
Tammy barked behind them. Sheridan turned his head and saw Roberts carrying Tammy in his arms. He had wrapped a scarf around her head to keep the sand out of her eyes. “Sir, if the enemy’s coming I think we’d do more good up at the command post than back where we were,” said Roberts.
Sheridan had no time to argue. He nodded, turned about, and began to jog.
Like wildfire, word spread that the Kurgans were coming. Marines all down the line hurried to their posts.
When they arrived back at the command post, Sheridan was drenched in sweat under his body armor. He pulled back on the ground sheet and stepped inside the bunker. “Status?” he asked York.
She looked flustered. “Sir, I have no comms with battalion. Corporal Garcia is having problems reaching higher as well.”
Roberts and Tammy moved past the two officers and sat down in a corner of the post. The instant he removed the dog’s scarf, she became agitated and began barking.
Cole and Sheridan looked over at Tammy and then back outside. “Master Sergeant, find Gunny Jones and tell him to be prepared to fill in any gaps in the line should they occur. I want you to personally lead any counterattacks. Unlike Jones, you have at least seen the entire trench line.”
“Right, sir,” replied Cole. He patted Sheridan on the arm. “Good luck, sir.”
“You too.”
Cole stepped out of the bunker and was right away swallowed up in the swirling sand.
“Right then, you stay here and keep trying to reach higher,’ said Sheridan to York. “If you cannot get a hold of them in the next five minutes, send Garcia down the hill and tell her to find the mortar gun line. We’re going to need them to drive the Kurgans back off this hill.”
“Yes, sir.”
Sheridan walked out into the storm and placed his hand on the wall. He counted the paces in his mind. When he hit twenty, he turned and felt for the position he had selected to fight from.
Inside the trench, he found a machine gun team waiting behind their gun. He moved over and looked into the faces of the people standing there. All he could see was their eyes through their goggles, the rest of their faces covered by their sand-encrusted scarfs.
“Did you register the machine gun before the storm hit?” Sheridan asked a corporal.
“Yes, sir,” he replied confidently. “We used our handheld lasers and recorded everything we could.”
“What is the gun currently laid on?”
“It’s covering the front of One Platoon. There is another gun team covering Two Platoon’s front,” explained the corporal.
Sheridan fought to control his fear. The enemy would soon be here and whether he lived or died today was out of his hands. He had a job to do and he intended to do it well.
A burst of gunfire off to Sheridan’s right made him turn his head and peer into the swirling storm. He was desperate to see where the shot came from. Another and then several more shots rang out.
Sheridan turned to the corporal commanding the machine gun team and calmly said, “Open fire.”
“Sir, we can’t see anything,” replied the corporal.
“It doesn’t matter. That’s why you registered the gun earlier in the day. Now open fire and don’t stop until you have expended a box of ammo, reload and then start to traverse slowly down the hill. The enemy is out there.”
“Yes, sir.” A split second later, the machine gun came to life firing off a deadly burst of 4.73mm bullets. In the storm, the tracer rounds marked the line of fire.
Sheridan could see that he soon would be in the way if he stayed where he was. He stepped back and moved out into the trench. He could hear small arms firing away, yet he still had not seen a single Kurgan soldier. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a blurry shape appear on the top of the trench. He swung his rifle around and brought it up just in time to see a Chosen warrior jump down into the trench right beside him. Before the man could react, Sheridan fired off a burst into the surprised enemy soldier’s chest, killing him. Sheridan bent down to check the uniform of his fallen foe. He could see that the man was wearing attire similar to himself. The Warrior had goggles on and a scarf wrapped around his face. Sheridan reached down and grabbed the dead soldier by his collar and pulled him up. He could see the Kurgan symbol for scout sewn on the man’s collar.
Sheridan laid the corpse down and moved down the line. He had to step over several more warriors lying prostrate on the bottom of the trench. The firing along the front of his company began to slacken and then die down. The sound of battle was replaced by the wind and the pitiful moans of the wounded Chosen lying unseen in the storm somewhere out front of their position.
Colossus (The Kurgan War Book 2) Page 4
