First Strike by - (reading e books .TXT) 📕

ships’ captains. The enemy has people spread throughout the fleet. If just one of them discovered what we were up to, it could mean the difference between victory and defeat.”

For some, it was the first time they had heard about the Kurgan infiltration of the fleet, for others it was confirmation of their suspicions.

“Before you leave here, I want you all to know that I have ordered the removal of a small number of officers and ratings from some of your ships.”

“Why did you do that, sir?” queried an officer.

“Using the database in the fleet’s archives, my chief medical officer has been able to access the medical records of all of the settlers who were reported missing at the end of the last war. Comparing the records of the settlers with those of personnel serving in the Sixth Fleet, he has been able to identify twenty-three possible matches. I have given orders for these people to be quietly relieved of their duties and to be removed from the fleet, post haste.”

“Surely, this can’t be a foolproof method,” objected the blonde-haired admiral. “Using one-hundred-year-old records is problematic at best.”

“That is why I ordered this to be done discreetly. As far as these people’s co-workers are concerned, they have been recalled to Earth for urgent medical or personal reasons. If the screening turns out to be false, I will personally apologize to each and every person we have detained. I’d rather be forced to eat crow at a later date than risk losing a single ship to sabotage.”

“Has Admiral Oshiro been informed?” asked another officer.

Admiral Sheridan nodded. “He gave me permission to remove the people from their duty stations and to have them sent back to Earth for questioning. In the next twenty-four to forty-eight hours, this process will be repeated throughout the entire fleet.”

A tough-looking master chief asked, “Admiral, can we have the names of the people you have had detained?”

“Yes. However, I will only provide you with the names of people removed from your ships or Marine units. If I am wrong, I don’t want these people’s reputations being needlessly tarnished. My aide, Commander Roy, has the names. Please see her on your way out, and she will provide you with the names.”

With that, the meeting ended. Admiral Sheridan watched as his strike force commanders were told who had been removed from their ships. Some shook their heads sadly as if personally betrayed by the actions of the men and women under their command. Others took the information in and quietly carried on. 

General Denisov walked over beside Admiral Sheridan. “Lucky for me, First Armored Division was scheduled for live fire maneuvers when this mission came up. They are already on board their landing craft and will be here in the next five hours. Third Mechanized, an army formation, was cut to my command for the operation. However, it won’t arrive until six hours after we land on Derra-5. If the enemy has been as battered as we have been led to believe, then two full-strength divisions should be enough. For now, I’m planning to keep the Third Marine Division in reserve.”

“Sounds good, Dimitri,” said Admiral Sheridan distractedly. His mind was elsewhere. He prayed that the general was right. His only son was down there fighting for his life. The sooner they struck, the better as far as he was concerned.

Chapter 38

A gray sliver of light crept up on the eastern horizon signaling an end to the long, cold night. 

Sheridan stamped his feet on the frozen ground trying to get the circulation back into his feet. He raised his arms above his head and stretched out his aching back. He was about to say something to Cole when he heard a deep growl coming from the snow-covered bushes in front of them. His heart began to race. He slowly lowered his arms, drew his pistol and pointed it at the woods.

Cole also heard the noise and pulled out his weapon. Carefully, the two men stepped forward. They had barely stepped inside the bushes when they saw where the sound was coming from. Both men froze in their tracks when they saw a small bear and her cubs gnawing on the remains of a Chosen soldier.

“Step back, slowly,” whispered Cole. “Whatever you do don’t turn your back and run. The mother will be on you before you get ten meters.”

They moved back into the open, turned on their heels and walked as far away as they dared from the bears before breaking into a sprint. They ran for a couple of kilometers before stopping.

Sheridan said between gasps of air, “They must be attracted by the smell of blood and the prospect of an easy meal.”

“Horrible way to go,” added Cole.

An hour later, they made their way to Eve’s camp. However, when they arrived, they couldn’t find a soul. Eerily all of the dilapidated homes they had built were empty. They didn’t see any signs of a struggle. It was as if they had all decided to leave together. Cole started a bonfire to keep them from freezing to death.

“I take the absence of gunfire coming from the woods as a good sign,” said Sheridan. “It looks like everyone got away without being spotted.”

“It’s early days,” retorted Cole. “We still have another thirty-six or so hours until we link up with them again. A lot can happen between now and then.”

“So what do you say to some Chosen rations for breakfast?”

“I’d rather not, the stuff upsets my stomach. However, I guess my options are limited out here.”

Sheridan dug into a jacket pocket and pulled out two foil packets. He read the label. “Looks like we’re going to have some kind of granola and fruit mix for breakfast.”

“I doubt that even they could mess that up,” replied Cole, taking a packet and ripping it open. He took a bite and made a sour expression on his face. “I stand corrected. It’s God damn awful!”

Sheridan didn’t mind the taste. He stepped away from the fire, looking for a spot to relieve himself. He had barely gone ten paces into the woods when he stopped in his tracks. Before him was the most gruesome sight he had ever seen in his life. All of the refugees from the camp were hanging by their necks from the trees like macabre ornaments, their frozen bodies covered in snow and ice. Sheridan’s head began to spin. He staggered forward, moving from person to person until he found Eve. “No,” he moaned when he saw her lifeless eyes staring back at him. He suddenly felt guilty and ashamed. His actions had placed her and all of her friends in harm’s way. A second later, he let out a scream at the top of his lungs.

A hand touched Sheridan’s back. “It’s okay to be angry, sir. I’m pissed too. Take a couple of deep breaths and you’ll soon start to feel better,” reassured Cole.

“We did this. We’re responsible for getting Eve and everyone else killed,” Sheridan said.

“No, no you didn’t. The enemy did this, and they’ll pay for what they have done. She knew the risks involved in helping us, but she helped us anyway. She was a brave woman who didn’t deserve to die like this, none of them did,” Cole said, looking over at the corpses.

Sheridan looked up at Cole. Anger burnt in his eyes. “Andrews is to blame. I just know it.”

“We left him tied to a tree, naked.”

Sheridan stood. “I want to see the son of a bitch’s body.”

After making their way back through the woods, both men stood there staring at the tree Cole had tied Andrews to. There was nothing. The man had either escaped, or his remains had been removed by his comrades. There was no way to know for sure. However, in Sheridan’s mind, he knew Andrews was still alive and he intended to make him pay with his life the next time their paths crossed.

“Come on, sir, there’s nothing to be gained by staying here. We’ve got a long way to go today.”

Sheridan ground his teeth in anger, nodded, and with a burning desire for revenge in his heart, he followed Cole back out to their fire. Now the refugee camp felt like a ghost town. Neither man wanted to linger. They quickly extinguished their fire, slung their packs onto their backs and continued on their journey. They trudged along the wood line, always keeping one eye trained out toward the Kurgan lines. 

An hour into their march, Cole tapped Sheridan on the shoulder and told him to step into the woods. They took cover behind a tall fir tree.

“What did you see?” Sheridan asked.

“That,” replied Cole, pointing at a large truck that had stopped by an open pit dug into the frozen ground.

Sheridan dug out his binoculars and looked over at the vehicle. He could make out Chosen soldiers keeping a close eye on several refugees as they climbed up into the back of the truck. Frozen solid Chosen dead were soon unceremoniously tossed from the back of the vehicle. When there were no more bodies, a Chosen warrior walked to the edge of the hole and threw a thermite grenade down onto the remains. A wall of flame shot up out of the ground.

“It’s just like that refugee said to Roberts, they’re burning their dead,” muttered Sheridan.

“They must have suffered a lot of casualties when they tried to force their way across the river.”

“Yeah, looks that way.”

They waited until the truck drove away before continuing on their way. Trying their best to avoid contact with any of the refugees and the Chosen, they walked all day until the sun began to dip below the trees, sending long finger-like shadows across the snow-covered ground. Cole pointed to an abandoned shelter as a spot for them to take cover in for the night. Fifteen minutes later, Sheridan and Cole sat by the bonfire warming their cold hands and feet. Both men were lost in their thoughts. Neither man had said a word for nearly an hour when the sound of feet shuffling in the snow made both men jump up. They drew their weapons and stared out into the dark.

A ragged-looking Chosen soldier emerged out of the night and stumbled to the fire. His face was covered in bruises. His white coveralls were stained with dirt and blood. The man dropped to his knees and held out his hands to show he was unarmed. “Food,” said the soldier in English as he brought his dirt-encrusted fingers to his mouth.

Sheridan looked over at Cole and then back at the Chosen warrior. Slowly, Sheridan put his pistol away, reached into his jacket and pulled out a foil pack. He tossed it at the battered man’s feet. The soldier dropped to his knees and attacked the food, gobbling it down in seconds. He licked the inside of the foil packet before looking over at Sheridan. Once again, he held out his hands, asking for food. Cole threw a ration pack at the man. As before, he devoured the food.

Sheridan studied the warrior. He looked downtrodden and tired. His eyes were puffy and bloodshot. He could tell that the man had suffered horribly in the cold.

“Jesus, sir, what do we do with him?” Cole whispered into Sheridan’s ear.

“I don’t know,” Sheridan answered. “But