Renegade (The Kurgan War Book 7)

by Richard Turner

  The enemy soldiers weren’t going to allow themselves to be massacred and went to ground. Their officers bellowed orders at them to return fire. Slow at first, the incoming fire was soon hot and deadly. Men called out in pain as they were struck down by the deadly fusillade.

  The way his men were falling, Sheridan could see he had seconds before they would all be gone. He yanked Adams’ arm and pulled him closer. He yelled into the soldier’s ear, “Everything, and I do mean everything, needs to be brought to bear onto our position or we’re all doomed!”

  Adams ducked to the bottom of the trench to pass the message.

  With his blood boiling, Sheridan stood up and yelled at the top of his lungs while he fired his rifle at the closest Kurgan officer, killing him and the man next to him. He didn’t care about his life anymore. The image of the butchered soldiers was seared in his mind. Sheridan ejected his empty magazine and reached for a full one when Adams took hold of his arm and hauled him down.

  “We have a regimental fire mission coming down on us in the next five seconds!” yelled Adams over the din of battle.

  Sheridan rolled over and brought up his hands to his mask. “Everyone, take cover!”

  The barrage of shells landed almost simultaneously, blasting the top of B Company’s old lines to pieces. Sheridan and his people were below ground and protected from the rain of death striking the rock.

  Sheridan felt his teeth rattle as the shells ripped apart anyone stuck out in the open. The noise was deafening. Sheridan was relieved his hearing aids automatically shut off when the booming roar got too loud. Dirt, rock, and debris rained down covering the men laying face-first in the bottom of the trench line.

  A couple minutes after it began, the bombardment stopped.

  Sheridan rolled over, brushed off the dust, and stood up. An eerie silence had fallen over the position. The bodies of at least fifty Kurgans lay strewn about the rocky hillside.

  “My God, we’re still alive,” said Adams as he got to his feet.

  “Check for survivors,” ordered Sheridan. A man moaned just off to his right. Sheridan knelt down and rolled the man over. It was Wiman. Sheridan cursed when he saw the young soldier trying to hold his guts in with his hands. His breathing was shallow and labored. The man was seconds away from death.

  “Did we get them, sir?” said Wiman, barely loud enough to be heard.

  Sheridan brought his mask down so he could look into Wiman’s eyes. “We sure did. Now just lie there while a medic comes to treat your wounds.”

  “You can’t lie to me. I’m a goner. All I want to know is, did I redeem myself?”

  A lump formed in Sheridan’s throat. “Of course you did. I’ll make sure the records reflect your bravery.”

  Wiman’s eyes stopped moving. His body shuddered and then went still. Sheridan laid the young man’s head back down on the ground and stood up. He was tired and sad. Sheridan had seen enough killing in his own time. This was just more of the same slaughter and if he didn’t have a mission to protect Denisov, he was convinced he would have packed up and gone in search of Cole.

  “Mister Hill, apart from you and me, we have two men uninjured and three badly wounded. The rest are dead,” reported Adams.

  “Get onto higher and appraise them of our situation.”

  With a tired sigh, Sheridan took a seat on an overturned ammo crate and checked the time. It was just after seven in the morning. The day had just begun. Through the haze of fatigue in his mind, Sheridan recalled reading that the fight for the Devil’s Rock was going to continue for another twenty-four hours. When it was over five hundred and eighty men would be dead or fatally wounded. He lowered his head into his hands and fought off the sinking feeling that he might never see Tarina’s beautiful smile or hold her in his arms ever again.

  Chapter 28

  The rumble from thousands of guns and rocket launchers firing echoed through the rock down into the underground base. Groups of nervous civilians congregated together and stared up at the roof as if they could see what was happening on the surface. A steady stream of wounded soldiers were brought through the tunnels to transport vehicles waiting to take them to the overcrowded hospitals. Those who were about to pass on were laid out on stretchers in the hallways. Priests and holy men walked amongst them comforting the dying as best they could.

  Cole knew the fight ran the entire length of the Sayan Highlands, but he only cared about where the 333rd regiment and his friend were, as that was where the war would be won or lost. He had followed Solada Suparat to her quarters and waited patiently in the shadows all night to see if another mechanical assassin would make its move. When morning came, he quietly slipped behind a group of workers and trailed her to the mess hall where he hungrily ate a meal of some gray-colored thing that was called meat along with some mass-produced scrambled eggs and lukewarm coffee. Cole sat back in his chair watching Suparat like a hawk. Anyone who came within striking distance was quickly evaluated to determine if they were a potential threat or not. Cole had no idea what the next killer would look or act like. The robot’s ability to change its facial features was a brilliant design but one that was giving him an ulcer.

  Suparat got up from her table and waved at a colleague. The man walked over, embraced her, and took a seat at her table.

  Cole nervously watched the greeting with his hand on his holster. He couldn’t take sitting anymore. Cole stood and took his tray to the cleaning station. He turned his back for a moment and activated his scanner. Cole made sure it was working properly before walking casually past Suparat and her friend.

  The scanner stayed silent.

  Cole slowly released a held breath and strolled over to the coffee urn to pour himself another cup of black coffee. He heard the doors to the cafeteria swing open. Out of the corner of his eye, for a passing second, he could have sworn that he saw Cromwell. Cole left his cup on the table and ran to the exit. He pushed the doors aside and walked outside. People were moving about in the busy hallway. Cole jogged down the corridor for a few meters before stopping and admonishing himself for seeing a ghost. He turned around and spotted Suparat walking out of the mess hall. She laughed at something her colleague said before shaking his hand. Cole tried not to look like he was watching her as she walked down the hallway to her place of employment.

  He followed her all the way to the front doors of the water treatment plant. When she opened the doors to walk inside, Suparat must have sensed something because she stopped and looked behind her. Cole dropped to one knee to pretend he had to tie a bootlace. He glanced up and watched her as she turned and walked into the building.

  I guess everyone is on edge, he thought.

  With his clipboard in his right hand, Cole entered the facility and walked along as if he were doing a routine safety inspection. All the while he covertly scanned each person he passed. When Cole got to Suparat’s floor, he opened the door and heard a man yell out in anger. He dropped his clipboard, drew his pistol, and ran toward the commotion.

  The door to an office down the hallway was wide open. Just before Cole got there, he heard a shot fired and a woman scream in fear. Cole rushed into the office with his pistol at the ready. His blood turned to ice when he saw the man who had been talking to Suparat in the cafeteria lying on the floor with a hole shot in his chest. Suparat was kneeling next to the man, trying to staunch the bleeding. A police officer stood with his pistol trained on Suparat’s head.

  “Hey!” yelled Cole.

  The police officer turned her head. She was the spitting image of the woman Cole had killed yesterday.

  Cole flipped the selector switch on his pistol to automatic and pulled the trigger. The imposter struck by the hail of bullets staggered back on its feet. Cole never let up. The second his magazine emptied, he inserted another and fired until the robot dropped to its knees, keeled over, and fell face-first to the ground. Cole kicked the assassin’s pistol away from its hand and fired one last burst into its spine to make sure it wouldn’t
get back up.

  “Are you okay?” Cole asked Suparat.

  She looked up and nodded. Tears streamed down her face.

  “My name is Alan, and I need you to do precisely as I say. I need you to find a hiding spot until I’ve dealt with the attacker and your friend.”

  “Why?” asked Suparat, cradling her dead friend in her arms. “Why did she have to kill James? He’s never hurt a soul in his life.”

  “I can’t explain that right now. I need you to believe me when I say your life is still in danger. Can you hide somewhere you’ll be safe for an hour or so?”

  Suparat wiped the tears from her face. “The basement is riddled with caves. I can hide down there.”

  “Good. Do it. I’ll come for you as soon as I can.”

  Suparat stood and took one last look at her colleague before fleeing the room.

  Cole walked over, bent down, and hefted the robot over his shoulder. The shooting had caused a commotion. People peered nervously out their opened office doors as Cole walked past. At the elevator, Cole looked over at a man with thick glasses perched on his nose. “Sir, I’m with military intelligence. A man has been shot in Ms. Suparat’s office. Call the police and the medics and tell them to come at once.”

  The man’s eyes grew wide when he saw the lifeless body of the officer draped over Cole’s shoulder. He nodded, slammed his door closed, and rushed to call the authorities.

  Cole entered the elevator and pressed the button for the tenth floor. He had found a compactor there and had used it to dispose of the first robot’s body. The powerful machine had reduced the assassin to a tiny block of compressed metal and electronics.

  As soon as he had disposed of the body, Cole walked down a flight of stairs into the basement. The primal fear of disliking what one cannot see in the dark seeped into Cole’s imagination. He drew his pistol and placed a fresh magazine on it. Better safe than sorry, he reasoned.

  He walked along until he came to a fork in the path. There were numerous dark and foreboding caverns on either side of the road. He called out, “Ms. Suparat, it’s me, Alan. Can you hear me?”

  “Yes. Should you be yelling like that?” replied Suparat.

  “No, probably not. Please show yourself.”

  Suparat emerged from a small cavern. She held a metal bar in her hands. “Can I see some ID, Sergeant?”

  “No.”

  Suparat raised the bar. “Why not?”

  “Because my ID is fake and my rank isn’t really sergeant. I’m sorry, Ms. Suparat, but you’re going to have to trust me to keep you alive for the next twenty-four hours.”

  “Why should I believe you?”

  “Because if I wanted you dead, I could have easily killed you when I entered your friend’s office. Instead, I took out your assailant and told you to run. Hardly the actions of a man intent on killing you.”

  Suparat hung back.

  “Look, if you need any more proof of my sincerity,” said Cole holding out his weapon. “Have my pistol.”

  She looked at the gun and shook her head. “No, you keep it. I believe you.”

  “Ms. Suparat, I don’t know this base very well. Is there somewhere we can hold up for the next day or two until I know it’s safe for you to move about again?”

  “Yeah, there’s an abandoned school a short drive from here. It was closed down about a year ago. I don’t think anyone goes there anymore.”

  “Okay then, let’s get a move on.”

  Suparat raised a finger. “Just a minute. If you’re not a sergeant, what do I call you?”

  “I told you already; my first name is Alan. You can use that.”

  “All right, Alan, why are people trying to kill me, and how do you know about it?”

  Cole cleared his throat. “If I told you, you’d never believe me. Suffice it to say, I have intelligence that the Kurgan Empire is trying to kill you so they can influence the outcome of the war.”

  “That doesn’t make any sense. I’m a minor bureaucrat at a water treatment plant. I’m hardly the federation president.”

  “Please, we have to get a move on. We can talk at length when we have you safely out of harm’s way.”

  “Will you promise to tell me what’s really going on?”

  Cole smiled. “I can’t, but how about this: I promise not to lie to you.”

  Suparat held out her hand. “It’s a deal, and my name is Solada.”

  “I know,” Cole replied, shaking her hand. “Now let’s get you out of here before anyone else comes around and tries to put a bullet between your eyes.”

  Chapter 29

  “Sergeant, how many men do we have left?” Sheridan asked Jabari.

  “Now that you’re back we have fourteen other ranks and one officer,” replied the sergeant, wiping the blood from his sword.

  “I’m not an officer,” countered Sheridan.

  “Sir, whatever rank they’ve stuck on your collar doesn’t match your brains and experience. Adams told everyone you’re an officer, or used to be one, and I believe him.”

  “Do as you please, Sergeant. How have you laid out the men?”

  “We don’t have enough men to operate all the weapons, so I took the crew away from one of the chain guns and made them riflemen to protect the other one. The grenade launcher is still good to go as is.”

  “Well done, Sergeant. Have the men continue to improve their positions and pack as much ammo and water as they can into their trenches. I’m going to liaise with our flanking platoons. I should be back in thirty minutes or less.”

  “Sir, Mister Emil is coming to see you,” said Adams.

  “I guess my visit can wait,” said Sheridan, leaning his tired and aching back against the trench wall.

  Adams held up a tube of food paste. “Some breakfast, sir.”

  “No, thanks. I think I’ll wait until this is over before I eat.”

  “Good morning, Sergeant Hill, I’m glad to see you’re still with us,” said Emil in greeting.

  “I share your sentiments, sir.”

  “I don’t know if you’ve gotten the word already, but the company CO was killed during the attack. I’m now the company commander.”

  “Sir, how many men do we have left in the company?”

  “Thirty-two.”

  Sheridan shook his head. “That’s a platoon, not a company. Perhaps you’d like to take command of what’s left?”

  Emil stepped close. “I’m barely any good at administration, let alone fighting. I was sent here because I falsified some reports that unfortunately made my CO look bad. I just want to live until tomorrow. No, Sergeant, you will continue to lead the fight from out here while I work the radios with battalion headquarters.”

  Sheridan had to give the man credit for knowing his weaknesses and boundaries. “I guess that’s what we’ll do then.”

  “I’ll have Sergeant Otto link in with Sergeant Jabari. They can sort out the manpower while I leave you to site the heavy weapons.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “I think that’s it. Oh, one last thing before I depart. Colonel Denisov has set up his command post on the rise just behind your position. It looks like our slice of the pie just became the unit’s vital ground.”

  “Ain’t that grand,” said Sheridan under his breath. “Sir, any word on when we can expect the next Kurgan counterattack?”

  “Divisional Intelligence estimates that the Kurgs will come at us around lunchtime. Our drones have spotted forces moving from the rear toward their forward attack positions.”

  “I hope our people are pounding them with everything we have?”

  “It looks like it’s turned into a counterbattery slog. The Kurgs are trying to locate and silence all of our guns before they come at us.”

  “What about the fleet? Surely they’ve got a carrier or two up there?”

  “I couldn’t tell you what’s happening in orbit. Sergeant, I trust you will do your job and hold this position.”

  “If you can keep the g
uns firing, we’ll hold. If we lose our indirect fire assets, then it’s a whole new ballgame.”

  “I’ll do what I can.” Emil picked up his rifle and walked away accompanied by his radio operator.

  “Jeez, sir, that man doesn’t exactly exude confidence,” noted Adams.

  “He’s not a real soldier,” said Sheridan. “If he stays out of our way and keeps us supplied with all the support he can muster then he’ll have done his job as far as I’m concerned.”

  “Sir, sir, you gotta come and take a look at this,” called out Jabari.

  “What is it?” yelled back Sheridan.

  “You gotta come here.”

  “Be there in a minute.” Sheridan pushed himself off the trench wall and made his way past a couple of men filling sandbags until he spotted Jabari, standing outside of a destroyed weapon’s bunker.

  “What the hell do you make of this?” said Jabari, pointing at what looked like the shattered remains of a soldier’s leg.

  Sheridan bent down. Right away a shiver ran down his spine. Instated of blood, sinew, and bone there was a jumble of light weight metals, wiring, and gears. Sheridan got down on his knees and pushed some rocks aside. His heart skipped a beat when he brushed some dirt from the face of the man the leg belonged to. It was a man with a face just like Kurt’s. There could only be one explanation: the robot must have been hunting Denisov when it was destroyed.

  “Do you have a thermite grenade, Sergeant?” asked Sheridan.

  “What do you want one of those for?”

  “Do you have one or not?” snapped Sheridan.

  “No, give me a minute, sir.” Jabari ran off to find a grenade. He came back a minute later, with the charge in his hands.

  Sheridan took the grenade, pulled the pin, and tossed it inside the bunker. He called out, “Fire in the hole,” as he took cover behind a trench wall. The charge went off. In seconds, super-heated chemicals incinerated everything inside the bunker to ashes.