Uh oh. Now Dagan was afraid things were about to spin out of control.
“Well, Senior Sergeant. Be that as it may…”
Then the Russian began to laugh long and hard. Dagan stared at her as Staff Sergeant Samson came out from the shadows.
“What is so damned funny, Senior Sergeant?” Samson blurted out.
The Russian started to control herself. “Marina Raskova at your service. I laugh because you Americans seem to think you invented and perfected, how you say, bullshitting as an art. Well, nobody can beat what we Russians had to say and do under the Soviet Socialist Republic.”
Marina cocked a thumb in the direction where Barton was headed. “He will now tell his superiors that everything is as it should be.” She fixed Sergeant Samson with a hard stare.
“Well, is it? Or are you about to, how you say, fuck the cat?”
Samson chuckled. “I think you mean screw the pooch. And no, we do not plan on doing such a thing. But before I go on, do you have access to some cold steel?”
“Of course. I am another product of Senior Training Instructor Stalin.”
“Want to get some payback? It will not be officially authorized—you may get into some substantial trouble up the chain.”
Marina Raskova smiled. “I think I can risk that. How is it you Americans say? Payback is a bitch?”
“Yes, and we have a whole company of bitches.”
CHAPTER 14
NORTH OF EVANSTON, WYOMING
Torbin Bender had made contact with a larger force of Wyoming Mounted Militia as darkness fell, which was good. Trying to travel or bed down with a large amount of civilian women and children with hostiles floating around, plus having maybe a half a dozen shooters to protect them, was not his idea of a fun time. Not to mention the dropping temperatures at night.
James Dark Wolf, Mounted Militia Commander, was the unit leader. Torbin smiled when he saw the familiar face. He walked up as Dark Wolf, upon seeing him, easily slide his huge frame off his horse.
“Well. Major Torbin, I see you’re where the action is.” He stuck his large right hand out and Torbin took it.
“Glad to see you here. I was feeling a might exposed with this many civilians to protect.”
“I need to check on Captain Young.”
James Dark Wolf’s face clouded a bit. “Major, my cousin, Jacob Dark Wolf is on the Medevac chopper with her. He helped extract her.”
“He is? So how is she? Is there a way for me to hook up with the chopper? I really need to check…” Torbin stopped. He saw it in the Commander’s eyes.
“That bad.”
“I am sorry, Major. They had to subdue her. She took Sergeant Fuzz’s death…hard. And she had to kill some other Krakens. They need to get to the hospital, and do not have time to pick up passengers.” Torbin stood silent. He still felt responsible, even though intellectually he knew he was not. Finally, he spoke.
“After making sure we have the civilians rounded up in the area, do you think you can find me a vehicle?”
“For the man who returned Standing Bull’s remains to us, we will move heaven and earth to find you one, He Who Kills With Knife.”
Torbin had forgotten the name that the Cheyenne War Leader had given him.
“If you do that, I will always be in your debt.”
“Come, Major. My scouts are quite good at finding people, even Krakens who don’t want to be found. We should be able to get you on the road tomorrow morning.”
“Thank you. Sounds kind of simple for such a favor, but thank you.”
Dark Wolf smiled. “We do things because it is the right thing to do. Your thanks is payment enough. Now, while my people scout, you must tell me about how you killed that Squid with your Ka-Bar. And, what is this ten Krakens in ten seconds the civilians are talking about?”
CHAPTER 15
SALINA, KANSAS
The male and female Krakens were hunkered down in their supposed perimeter security fox hole, smoking a joint. Cold, damp, with cold food in their stomachs, the marijuana helped make it all passable for a few moments.
“Hey, Luanne. I might have enough product for another join…” He never finished the statement. A short sword blade from out of the darkness penetrated his throat, just as a figure slid in behind Luann and slit her throat from ear to ear.
Sergeant Samson was about to sneak up with one other to take the sentry post out when Dagan had stepped in.
“You get killed, wounded, right out of the gate, and who runs the show? It’s all your doing, the Sisters look to you for command.”
Kira Samson frowned, then swore quietly. “Yeah, you’re right. You’re just too smart, Texas.”
“Just smartass, Staff Sergeant. Lupe and I can take them out, get you an infiltration route.”
“You’re not even officially sisters yet…”
Lupe snorted. “So what is this, a sorority? Consider us pledging.”
Kira Samson laughed. “Oh all right. But if you get yourself killed, don’t come crying to me. The sisters will be too busy looking for a different route out to be sad about you two.”
“Don’t worry, Sergeant. Like we said, we’ve done this before.” And so Lupe and Dagan took out the sentries.
Now Dagan used her penlight to shine two quick flashes of light, signaling the women warriors to start their move. Crouching as low to the ground as possible, seven yards apart, about every five to ten seconds an infiltrator came by the former Kraken sentry post. Dagan and Lupe had donned the caps of the two dead Krakens and slung their rifles, ready to act the part of two Kraken sentries. So far, so good. Two left, then two right. The blade armed personnel alternated in directions, pairs to join up once they picked their targets, which were in rich supply. Large groups of personnel were bunched around campfires that were rapidly turning into bonfires. Kraken Commander Talbot had yelled about light security until many told him that being half frozen would do nobody any good. The militia and regular forces already knew exactly where they were, their layout, at least based on the sniping that had been going on. Besides, as it was pointed out, the Krakens outnumbered them three to one and had armor. Only people with a death wish would attack with those odds against them.
Lupe and Dagan kept count, and were at sixty when Dagan saw a figure approaching. It was not one of theirs, and it was walking straight toward their foxhole.
Dagan signaled to Lupe to stop the infiltration as she stood up, made a beeline toward the figure, the Kraken cap firmly on her head.
“Sergeant, am I glad to see you,” Dagan called out. “My partner went to take a piss and flat out disappeared. I think he may have deserted.”
“Goddamnit, keep it down. Where did you say you partner went…”
Dagan had closed the distance before the man could finish his comment and thrust her short sword blade straight through the man’s throat. The Church of Kraken member croaked, dropped his rifle, toppled over with his life’s blood spurting out. Then he lay still. Dagan grabbed his weapon and two grenades she saw on his equipment belt and scrambled back to the foxhole.
“They had better hurry up. Somebody is gonna come looking for that guy.”
The women warriors sped up, still trying to spread out, stay low. Luckily, all the Krakens farther in were either huddled around the fires or in vehicles due to the freezing temperatures. Other than a few like the now dead Sergeant, there was little interior movement.
A little over ten minutes since the first infiltration, a strong, operatic voice suddenly rang out from the darkness. Outside his command post vehicle, Talbot heard the melodic voice somewhere in the night.
“What is that?” He thought he heard something about steel in the last part.
Then hell came to the Kraken camp.
People leaving latrines, on the edge of fires, smoking cigarettes in the dark were grabbed, throats slit, bayoneted, clubbed then stabbed. Those non-Sisters with bayonet rifles had been required to remove their magazines to force them to use stealth a
nd blades first. The whole idea of this attack was not to degenerate into a firefight if at all possible, at least not at first. Cold Steel has a special terror all its own, and the Sisters of Steel wanted to make the most of it. But nothing is ever foolproof. Within seconds screaming began as some did not die quietly. Next, shots sounded as the Krakens began to wildly respond to shadows in the dark.
A loud piercing cry reverberated around the Kraken positions. “Cold steel, sisters! Cold steel.” Primal screams, rebel yells, and voices of rage bounced off each other as the situation dissolved in to madness, with the Krakens on the receiving end. General panic took hold as the infiltrators were everywhere. Krakens began to fire wildly, were soon in gun battles with their own people. A Bradley opened up with a chain gun, wildly firing at nothing the vehicle commander thought was something. A transport pickup truck was hit and blossomed into flame. Krakens in panicked flight slammed their lights out vehicle into the side of an Abrams, the front passenger smashed through the windshield.
Kraken Commander Talbot screamed ineffectually over the radio and communications net, trying to gain control. He watched helplessly as an Abrams backed over a man and a woman at speed, turning them into bloody mashed pulp under its tracks. Then everybody seemed to figure out where the rear was, and the mass exodus began. In the days before general use of firearms, fleeing armies were ridden down by calvary, chased down by faster runners. Thus, whole clumps of bodies showed the deadly results of wounds to the back as the attackers caught up with the stumbling, bumping, tripping, and falling panicked personnel.
History repeated itself, many being shot in the back by their own comrades as every unknown figure became an enemy.
What is called a General Rout in military parlance was in full bloom.
A Major Smythe went jogging into Colonel Anton Popov’s tent.
“Sir, something is going on with the Krakens. It sounds as if they’re in major combat with someone.”
The Colonel frowned, and grabbed his field phone.
“Colonel Mills? Popov here. Are any of you people making contact with the enemy?” He listened to the reply, then answered.
“Colonel, you have got to be fucking with me… Are you sure? Please give me a minute, I’ll be right back.”
Colonel Popov looked at the field phone, began to swear and curse in Russian. Colonel Popov was quite good at such activity, as he had many years of experience in the Russian Military. In fact, some of his personnel said he had made an art out of it. Finally he stopped. Then, he grinned, began to chuckle. Then to laugh. Then to guffaw. Finally, tears in his eyes, he managed to control himself.
“Colonel Mills? Yes. Well, can you get your militia forces ready for a general attack in an hour? Yes, one hour at the latest. See, I am going to do something you call taking sour lemons and making lemonade out of them. Apparently some bitches from hell just gave the Kraken some lemons. Now, we will pulp them into lemonade.”
He hung up the field phone and looked at Major Smythe.
Major, you must remember this day, for we are about to make history, or die trying. But such a glorious death it will be.”
The Colonel jumped up, yanking his pistol from its holster. “For Mother Russia. For America. For the human race. We go!”
Staff Sergeant Kira Samson wiped her blade on a dead enemy, panting. This was her third and she was covered with sticky blood. As she regained her breath, her combat “spider” sense went off and she swung around in time to catch a flying tackle in her midriff. The large Kraken man had no weapon other than rage. He trapped her knife hand and grabbed her throat with the other. He screamed unintelligible rantings as he tried to kill the smaller woman. The Kraken’s head exploded, blood misting as it sprouted from his opened skull. He flopped down on top of Kira, his weight pinning her to the ground. She started to huff and push, then called out.
“Would you mind helping get this heavy asshole off of me?”
Senior Sergeant Marina Raskova grabbed the dead Kraken’s collar with her free hand, her other hand holding a Spetsnaz combat shovel with a very sharp blade. The two women pulled off the man, and Kira climbed to her feet a bit wobbly. She looked at Marina.
“Thanks. Just…thanks.”
The Russian flashed a large grin, the scar on her forehead scrunching her skin in an odd fashion. “Come, Comrade. We make history. For Mother Russia.”
“For Abigail!” Kira screamed. “For Fuzz. You fucks die tonight!”
Dagan and Lupe had counted one hundred and one women soldiers infiltrating, including themselves. Lupe glanced at her watch. It was coming up on thirty minutes. Sisters of Steel and their supporters should start heading back through the entry point. It had been like having a ringside seat on the First Day in Hell for Lupe. Screams, tracers, blood, explosions and figures running willy-nilly. Then every vehicle and person started heading directly to the rear, fast. She thought she saw some crazy women run screaming after them.
Lupe heard the distinct sound of artillery firing in the distance.
“Shit. Incoming!” she screamed.
Twenty-five-pounder HE shells began falling well to the rear of the Kraken positions. A couple of light vehicles went up in flames, while some panicked Krakens began running back the way they had just come. Blades flashed and the Krakens realized their mistakes too late. The artillery barrage told the female infiltrators it was time to leave. With a quickened pace they headed back to the entry point. Lupe and Dagan counted as they began to stream back through, heading into the darkness. They came through with various amounts of blood on their bodies and uniforms, some with torn clothes. Then the count was down to ninety-one.
“Missing ten,” Lupe called out.
“Yeah. Damn,” Dagan answered.
At that moment, through the darkness and smoke, they saw some more figures approaching. The two women crouched in their foxholes, weapons ready in case the figures were not Friendlies. A large figure appeared, carrying something on its shoulders. As it neared, Lupe and Dagan saw a very large woman carrying two other figures across her shoulders.
“Corporal Jefferson with two,” the voice rang out. “Don’t shoot.”
Dagan saw it was one of the largest black women she had ever seen. And the name sounded familiar. Corporal Jefferson had a wounded woman over each shoulder. Behind her was a woman with a belt tourniquet on her left arm, which she was holding with her right.
“Four down, six to go,” said Lupe.
Then, another clump of humanity. Four Sisters of Steel used a makeshift hammock stretcher made out of their fatigue jackets to carry a fifth, who was in very bad shape. Behind her, carrying a plasma bottle connected to the wounded woman in one hand, and a pistol in the other, was EMT and Combat Medic Ashley Anderson, late of the Malmstrom Hospital. As the women passed through with the wounded, Dagan and Lupe covered their rear. Out of the dark came half a dozen Krakens, trying to catch the fleeing assassins. The two Texans opened up with their captured assault rifles. First one, then two of the approaching Krakens went down. The others tried to find some cover as they returned fire.
Their magazines empty, Lupe and Dagan dropped them, each grabbing the hand grenades that Dagan had recovered. Pins pulled, Dagan threw hers over hand in the traditional manner. Lupe had been a pitcher on a fast pitch softball team. With a quick under arm windmill fastball pitch, Lupe launched her grenade. It hit the face of the nearest Krakens, smashing into the man’s left eye, then being deflected upwards. The grenade exploded in the air as Dagan’s exploded on the ground. One Kraken went down for the last time with a sliced jugular, the other three peppered with shrapnel in their extremities. The two Texans took off running into the dark, just as more artillery rounds began to fall. They caught up with the wounded, and saw Staff Sergeant Samson. She met the two Tail End Charlies as they approached.
“All accounted for?” She asked.
“Yes, by God and Texas,” Dagan responded. “One hundred and one in, one hundred and one out. Though we have four pr
etty badly wounded.”
“Yes,” Lupe interjected. “The Gal Upstairs must like us.”
Kira grinned. “Now comes the hard part. Trying not to be court martialed and shot.”
“You two better get back to your Technicals. I bet you they are about to move out.”
The Staff Sergeant stuck out her hand.
“Screw that!” Lupe exclaimed. “Group Hug” Kira, Dagan and Lupe hugged, smearing sweat, tears and blood on each other. The clinched for a few moments then parted. As the Texans made a beeline to their Technicals, Kira called out.
“Stay safe, Sisters of Steel. I need you back.”
“Roger that,” two voices replied as one.
CHAPTER 16
MALMSTROM ARMED FORCES BASE
GREAT FALLS, MONTANA
General Reed was fit to be tied. He had Brigadier General Ted Wood on the secure line. Supposedly advancing with the First Division and its armor, General Wood was making every excuse in the book not to move faster.
“Sir, you don’t understand. We keep running into groups of Krakens. I’m afraid they have anti-tank rockets. I don’t want to lose any of our limited AFV’s…”
General Reed exploded. “Goddamnit, you expect to lose something in combat. That’s why it’s called war! What are you doing, saving everything to pass on to your kids?”
“General, I…”
“You will move at sunrise, assault anything that moves. If you don’t, I’ll send someone down there who will. Now move!” He slammed down the phone. How in the hell did such a supposedly experienced military officer lose all of his guts? He seemed more worried about losing a tank than losing the battle. Just then, the secure line rang again.
“Reed. Yes, Colonel Popov…You what? They what? Fuck!” The General almost broke the phone by crushing it in his hand. Then he took a deep breath.
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