Sheridan shot up wide-awake. His heart was racing away in his chest. Sweat covered his body, soaking his sheets. He looked about and saw that he was in his darkened room on board the Churchill.
He got out of bed, flipped on a light, walked over to the sink, and turned on the water. Sheridan waited until the water was good and cold before splashing some on his face. He took a couple of deep breaths to calm his wildly beating heart.
It was always the same nightmare. He was on a planet he didn’t recognize, lying trapped and helpless when a darkened shape appeared out of the fog. It was a Kurgan Warrior. Without making a sound, it walked toward him. Sheridan tried to pull his trapped legs free, but it was no good, he was going nowhere. His weapon lay just out of reach. The Kurgan stopped and looked down at him. It seemed to be studying him. Instead of finishing him off with its assault rifle, the warrior knelt down, grabbed Sheridan and twisted his head up. Baring its razor sharp teeth, the Kurgan brought its mouth down on his face. Blood dripped down Sheridan’s face as he was eaten alive.
He had never read of Kurgans eating their prisoners, but it was the same horrible dream he had been having since he was a child. Shaking his head to clear the troubling images from his mind, Sheridan looked back at his bed. He knew he would never get back to sleep, not now. He checked his watch and saw that it was nearing three in the morning. He threw on his fatigues and decided to go for a run through the ship’s corridors.
There was an unexpected knock on his door.
“Sir, sir, are you awake in there?” asked Cole
Sheridan told him to enter.
“Sir, did I wake you up?” queried Cole.
“No, I was already awake. I was just about to go for a run,” answered Sheridan, telling a half-truth.
“Sir, the captain called. She wants us up on the bridge right away.”
Sheridan instantly grew curious. “Did she say why?”
“No, and I didn’t ask. The tone of her voice told me it was important.”
A minute later, they walked onto the bridge and were met by Captain Lefol, who took them over to the communications console. “Gentlemen, listen,” she said as she opened up a comms channel. A twenty-year veteran with the fleet, Lefol had reddish-blonde hair and light blue eyes. She was short and lean, but projected a confident air about her. Anyone who met her instantly could tell that she knew her business.
An automated voice came over the speaker. “This is the freighter California, we have struck a mine and have suffered heavy losses; I say again, we have struck a mine and are in need of assistance. Please come at once.”
“Ma’am, is that all you’ve received?” asked Cole.
“Yes, it repeats itself every ten seconds,” explained Lefol, her accent French. “We have tried to reach the California on all the usual channels. Nothing! Not a single word in reply. This can only mean that they are unable to respond for whatever reason, or they are being jammed by the enemy.”
Sheridan asked, “Ma’am, shouldn’t she have been in a convoy? Where are the other ships?”
“That’s a good question. According to my records, the vessel was part of a small convoy led by the frigate Orion.”
Cole asked, “Ma’am, do you know what the California was transporting?”
“Yes, air-defense batteries for Illum Prime,” she replied gravely.
“Jesus,” muttered Cole.
Lefol said, “I think it is safe to assume the convoy was attacked and probably destroyed. We should also assume that our forces on Illum Prime are also under attack, perhaps even overrun by the enemy.”
“But we’re still light years from the Disputed Zone,” declared Sheridan.
“It must have been part of a coordinated series of deep strikes designed to eliminate the reinforcements and logistics needed to defend the border,” explained Lefol. “It’s a smart move and one that we would have done if we had struck first.”
“Ma’am, what do you intend to do?” asked Sheridan.
“We’re not a combat vessel. We wouldn’t last five minutes against a Kurgan destroyer if we bumped into one. First, I want to see if there are any survivors on board the California. After that, we are going to jump behind one of Illum Prime’s moons and see what is happening. If the Kurgans are there, we’ll jump back to the nearest colony and warn them that the Kurgans are already this deep into our space.”
“Ma’am, if we’re not needed anymore, Mister Sheridan and I will get our Marines prepped and ready for battle,” said Cole.
“That would be prudent,” responded Lefol. “I’ll let you know the instant we rendezvous with the California.”
“Ma’am,” said Sheridan and Cole in unison.
They left the bridge and walked back to the cramped quarters where the young Marines were sleeping.
Sheridan left Cole to roust up the soldiers while he went back to his room to grab his gear. The instant the door slid closed behind him, Sheridan fought off a wave of nausea in his stomach. He had trained for years to lead men into combat; now faced with the prospect of people fighting and dying under his command, his mind was filled with doubt. He was an untried leader about to take a platoon of inexperienced Marines with only one NCO into battle. He dug into his rucksack until he found his helmet, ballistic glasses, gloves, tactical vest, and thin bags of liquid body armor. He placed the lightweight armor into pouches on his trousers and shirt to protect him from small arms fire and blast fragments. Made from a shear-thickening liquid, the armor remained a liquid until struck, at which time in less than a millisecond it hardened, protecting the person from grievous bodily harm.
Before he left his room, Sheridan loaded a magazine into his pistol and slipped it into the holster on his vest. Not sure what lay ahead, he grabbed four extra twenty-round magazines, just to be safe. With his helmet under his arm, he stepped out into the hallway. He could hear the sound of Cole’s deep voice yelling at the young Marines to get dressed.
The instant Sheridan stepped into the hangar Cole walked over to Sheridan and handed him an M5 rifle and ten mags. “Sir, I broke into one of the supply boxes and stole us a couple of rifles,” explained Cole. “I think we’re gonna need these before the day is out.”
Sheridan looked down at the weapon in his hand. “Yeah, you may be right.”
“Sir, if Captain Lefol is right, and I bet she is, then Illum Prime is gone. We’ll be lucky if we survive the next few hours to warn the other colonies that they are in danger.”
Sheridan didn’t reply. He stood there and watched Cole as he turned on a dime and cursed up a storm at some of the Marines who weren’t moving fast enough for his liking. It all seemed to be happening in a blur.
The ship’s jump engine switched off. In the blink of an eye, the ship dropped out of faster than light travel and came to an almost dead stop five hundred meters from the California. It was obvious that the freighter had been hit. Jagged holes covered the side of the vessel where enemy missiles had penetrated the hull. Debris and bodies littered the space around the stricken vessel. Worse than that, the remainder of the convoy, including the frigate assigned to defend it, had also been destroyed. Less than a minute later, Lefol hailed Sheridan and Cole to meet her in the ship’s briefing room.
Sheridan and Cole in full fighting order walked into the briefing room. On the wall was a 3D tactical display showing the destroyed convoy.
“Jesus,” muttered Cole as he studied the wreckage.
Lefol walked over beside the two Marines. “The only life sign we have been able to detect is coming from the California. It looks like someone is still alive in the medical bay. It’s weak, but it’s evidence that someone survived the attack. The ship has totally depressurized so whoever is over there must be in a survival suit.”
Sheridan looked at the California floating dead in space. He could see that the main air lock doors commonly used for boarding the vessel had been destroyed. If they were going to board her, it would have to be through another entrance.
“I can see by the lo
ok on your face that you have noticed that we can’t dock with the California,” said Lefol to Sheridan.
“Looks like we’re going for a spacewalk,” observed Cole.
“Ma’am, what are your orders?” asked Sheridan.
“I want you to board the California and help whoever is trapped over there. I also want you to download her computer logs. Fleet Headquarters is going to need to know what has happened, and I want to know what we are up against before we jump to Illum Prime.”
“And if the Kurgans return while we’re over there?” asked Cole.
“Then you’re on your own,” replied Lefol. “I won’t risk this ship and the supplies she is carrying to save you.”
“Understood, ma’am.”
Cole may have understood. Sheridan, however, was still having a hard time wrapping his head around the fact that he wasn’t in training anymore and that he was at war.
“Gents, we can’t afford to waste time. You have one hour to get over there ASAP, find what you are looking for and get back to the Churchill, or I will leave you behind.”
Sheridan and Cole came to attention, turned and left the room.
“Sir, how are you in zero gravity environments?” asked Cole.
“Sergeant, if you’re wondering if I get sick, the answer is no. At the academy, I was the top of my class in zero gravity combat training.”
Cole stopped in the hallway, looked both ways to check that they were alone, and then looked Sheridan straight in the eyes. “Sir, you need to lose three words from your vocabulary.”
“What might those be, Sergeant?” replied Sheridan defensively.
“‘At the academy.’ Those words show that you have zero experience and are used by every platoon leader that I have ever come across. Flush them from your mind and you’ll sound more knowledgeable when talking with your men.”
“Well then, Sergeant, what should I have said?”
“Sir, all you needed to say was you don’t get sick. Look, I know you think that I am being overly critical, but you need to understand that there isn’t time to bring you along and inculcate you into being a platoon leader. Your time is now. You’re in command and the Marines you are about to lead over to the California need to know that you know your job.”
Sheridan was about to push back but realized that he was wasting time, and Cole may have a point. Instead, he asked a question. “Sergeant, how long do you think it will take us to suit up, move over to the California, do everything Captain Lefol wants done and get back here?”
“It’s going to be tight. However, the only two people who need to get ready are you and me. I figured this might happen so I ordered eight Marines to don their suits while we’re gone.”
Sheridan realized that he should have thought about that himself. Cole’s depth of experience and his lack of any was beginning to show. “Good thinking, Sergeant.”
“I thought so,” replied Cole with a grin. “Come on, sir, they pay me to worry about the little things. Now, let’s get to work.”
Fifteen minutes later, Sheridan, Cole, and the eight handpicked Marines stepped into the airlock and waited for it to depressurize. Their spacesuits were light gray in color. Each soldier was wearing a maneuver unit on their back to help propel them through the vacuum of space. With thirty nozzles at different locations on the unit, it was easy for a person in zero gravity to effortlessly move in any direction. At twenty-five meters per second velocity, it was going to take them twenty seconds to reach the closed airlock on the side of the destroyed ship.
The light inside the room changed from white to red. The artificial gravity turned off. The maneuver units automatically switched on and kept everyone in place. A second later the doors leading out into space slid open.
Sheridan paused briefly. He had spent countless hours learning how to fly in the weightlessness of space; however, that had been in a training environment where it was impossible to get hurt unless he really screwed up. Now Sheridan was about to lead Marines into the unknown. Taking a deep breath to calm the butterflies in his stomach, he gently pressed down on a button on one the maneuver unit’s arms. He moved out of the airlock and was closely followed by his soldiers, with Staff Sergeant Cole bringing up the rear. The debris field around the California was thicker and more hazardous than Sheridan had expected. Knowing that any puncture in his suit could lead to a loss of oxygen and death, Sheridan slowed his thrusters and began to deftly fly his way around the larger pieces of wreckage. His skin crawled when he saw part of a mangled body float by.
His heart started to race. His breathing sped up. Sheridan tried to focus on the job at hand so he wouldn’t dwell upon the fact that he had never been so scared in his life. A voice came over the suit’s intercom in his helmet. It was Cole. “Sir, slow down a bit, one of the men back here got his foot tangled in some debris.”
Effortlessly pivoting around, Sheridan saw Cole pulling a Marine’s foot free from some wires that were attached to a piece of the blasted-out bulkhead. When the man was free, Sheridan turned about and headed straight for the air lock. When he was about five meters from the ship, he came to a complete stop. He floated off to one side of the door while one of the Marines moved over and inserted a universal key to manually unlock the doors. Without power, the entrance remained closed. Sheridan maneuvered over and helped one of the other Marines pull the doors apart. He swore loudly when a burnt body shot out of the entrance, nearly hitting him. His heart jackhammered away in his chest. A hand reached over and pushed the body away. Sheridan saw Cole. He was calmly looking at him. With a reassuring nod, Cole told Sheridan that he was doing okay. Taking a deep breath, Sheridan turned on the lights mounted on his helmet and peered inside. Another door leading inside the ship was closed. “Open it,” Sheridan ordered.
Two soldiers along with the man with the key flew past Sheridan and Cole and opened the interior doors. It was dark and foreboding. As Sheridan had expected, the ship was dead.
“Okay, we’ll split up here,” announced Sheridan, trying to sound as confident as he could. “Staff Sergeant Cole with Alpha Team will proceed to the bridge and download the logs while Bravo Team and I locate the life sign.”
Cole stressed, “Everyone RV back here in twenty minutes or you’re staying here.”
“See you in twenty, Sergeant,” said Sheridan to Cole as he pressed a button on his maneuver unit and moved into the blackened corridor. It was as inviting as a crypt. The four men from Bravo Team followed close behind, their lights illuminating the way.
The interior of the ship was a complete mess. Anything not bolted down to the floor now floated free. Coffee cups, papers, books, and personal items all hung there as if waiting for the crew of the stricken vessel to return and reclaim their possessions.
Sheridan stopped for a moment to study the ship’s layout on a small screen attached to the arm of his maneuver unit. “This way,” he said turning down a side corridor. As his light lit the way, his heart jumped up into his throat. Floating wide-eyed was a corpse. Her arms were outstretched as if reaching for Sheridan. Her long blonde hair hung around her face. The temperature inside the vessel was several hundred degrees below freezing. Her body was frozen solid.
“Shit,” said one of the Marines behind Sheridan.
“She probably won’t be the last one we see in here,” said Sheridan. “Come on, we’ve got a job to do.” With that, he gently pushed the body aside and continued down the hallway.
As predicted, Sheridan was right. They found four more corpses before they arrived at the doorway to the medical room. He stopped by the door, dug out a small speaker from a pocket on his suit, and placed it on the entrance. He keyed his mic and said, “Hello inside the medical room, my name is Second Lieutenant Sheridan, are you alright?”
Silence.
Sheridan repeated his message.
“Maybe we’re too late,” said one of the Marines.
“Open the door,” ordered Sheridan.
As before, the Marine using
a universal key unlocked the doors while two soldiers pried them apart.
Sheridan was first inside. In the dark, a horrible sight met his eyes. At least a dozen injured men and women, who had been in the medical room when the ship decompressed, floated about the room. A cold shiver ran up his spine.
“There’s supposed to be someone alive in here,” said Sheridan. “Spread out and try to find someone in a med tube or survival suit.”
Pushing the bodies aside as he moved to the back of the room, Sheridan felt his stomach turn. He had to force his mind to block out the images of the ghost-like bodies hovering everywhere.
“Sir . . . sir, I think I found a survivor!” called out a Marine.
Pivoting about, Sheridan moved over to the soldier. He was right. Tethered to a bed was a man inside a survival suit. Sheridan quickly checked over his vitals and saw that the man was stable but unconscious.
“Let’s take him,” said Sheridan to the two nearest Marines.
After a quick check of the room, they realized that they had found the sole survivor of the California.
Sheridan keyed his mic and told Cole that they were on their way back to the airlock. Captain Lefol, who had been listening in, acknowledged the message.
Five minutes later, Sheridan’s team met up with Cole and his people.
Happy to be leaving the dead ship behind him, Sheridan pushed the button for his maneuver unit’s thrusters and headed back out into space.
The instant that they stepped back inside the Churchill’s airlock and closed the door behind them, the ship’s jump engine kicked in, blasting them away from the wreckage. A pair of medical corpsmen waited for them on the other side of the doors. After handing off the unconscious man to the medics, Sheridan, Cole, and the rest of the Marines moved inside and stripped off their suits.
Sheridan’s clothes clung to his sweat-covered body. He grabbed a towel and wiped the sweat from his face. With a heavy sigh, Sheridan sat down and looked at his hands and saw they were shaking.
“It’s okay, it’s just the adrenaline leaving your system,” said Cole as he took a seat beside Sheridan. “It happens to all of us.”
Sheridan glanced over and saw that Cole’s hands were as steady as a rock. “You’re not shaking.”
“I’ve learned to deal with it, doesn’t mean I wasn’t scared.”
Sheridan made sure that none of the Marines could hear him. Quietly, he said, “I’d never seen a dead body before today. It’s not something they prepare you for at the academy.”
Cole nodded. “There’s plenty they don’t prepare you for. Wait until it’s one of your own men. Trust me, it’s an awful feeling you never really get over.”
Sheridan shuddered. He decided to change the topic. “Did you get what the captain was after?”
“I sure did. Sir, did the man you found have any ID on him?”
“None that I could see.”
Cole slapped Sheridan on the back. “Come on, sir, let’s get changed and go see the captain.”
5
First Strike Page 4