Ghost Company

by Richard Turner

  “Yes, sir. I’ll get the orders sent right away.”

  Admiral Sheridan nodded his concurrence. “One last thing, Captain, have our forces go on yellow alert. Double the guard on key personnel, all ships’ bridges, comms stations, and ammunition depots until further notice.”

  “Sir, General Romano is going to want to know why.”

  Sheridan was still having a hard time getting used to someone other than Killam as his chief of staff. “Please ask my COS to come see me, and I’ll fill him in on what has transpired.”

  “He’s going to think you don’t trust him when you tell him that I’ve already given the order to go to yellow alert, sir.”

  “I’ll worry about that, and his easily bruised ego, when I have to.”

  Killam came smartly to attention before leaving the room.

  Admiral Sheridan stood and walked to a window looking out at the stars. He placed his hands behind his back and rocked on his heels for a few seconds while he pondered the information his son had sent to him. If the Kurgan Empire was about to split in two, he wanted Earth not to get involved. To do so would be reckless and drag the armed forces into a conflict that would needlessly take the lives of hundreds of thousands—if not millions—before it ended.

  9

  The sun dipped below the rocky hill, casting a long, dark shadow over the camp housing the Kurgan fugitives.

  Sheridan sat in a collapsible chair and watched as Komada led the others in their evening prayer. Their Kurgan uniforms had been replaced by tan coveralls. The more Sheridan studied Komada, the less he actually knew about him. Aside from claiming to be a junior lieutenant and an assassin, Sheridan noticed it was always Komada who led the prayer sessions. Even if he were late, the others would quietly wait until he arrived before opening their books and beginning.

  “Penny for your thoughts,” said Cole as he pulled up a chair and sat down. He handed Sheridan a cup of coffee.

  “I’m just wondering what our good friend, Komada, is hiding from us,” replied Sheridan. “We’ve been here for three days now and all the specialists can tell me about him is that his family was trapped in Kurgan space after the first war. He seems as fit as a fiddle and his psych exams don’t show any irregularities, but the more I watch him, the more I become like you.”

  Cole feigned insult. “I don’t know how to take that last remark.”

  “As a compliment, naturally. He’s up to something. I’m beginning to worry that we’re about to become his accomplices whether we want to or not.”

  “Where are the ladies?” Cole asked, looking around.

  “I think they’re still crawling about onboard the Kurgan ship, trying to learn how to fly it without anyone’s help.” Sheridan had sought permission for Tarina and Wendy to report back for duty with their old unit. However, each time he brought it up, Komada would begin to panic and beg for Tarina to remain. So rather than sit in the camp with nothing to do, they opted to learn all they could about the transport vessel.

  “When is Captain Killam due tomorrow?”

  “He should be here for lunch.”

  “Speaking of food, come on, I’ll let you buy me supper,” said Cole, standing up.

  “I told Tarina I’d wait for her.”

  “And I said the same thing to Red. This way we get two meals.”

  Sheridan shook his head. If Cole wasn’t thinking about women, he was thinking about his stomach.

  The hot water flowed over Sheridan’s face as he stood under the shower. His mind wouldn’t let him rest. He had tried lying down after chatting with his father via a secure comms channel, but sleep eluded him. Sheridan had risen from his cot and walked over to the communal showers to try and wash away his tension. He had thought about asking Tarina to join him but decided that it wouldn’t be a wise thing for him to do . . . at least, not tonight.

  Sheridan turned off the water and grabbed his towel. Most of the bruises on his body were gone or had faded to a dull yellow color. He dried himself off, wrapped his towel around his trim waist, and slipped his feet into his sandals. Sheridan opened the door, stepped outside, and looked up at the night sky. Without any light from a nearby city to create any light pollution, the heavens above were filled with millions of stars. Sheridan turned on his feet and tried to find a familiar star which might help orient him toward Earth.

  Out of the corner of his eyes, Sheridan saw someone in the shadows watching him. The hair on the back of his neck went up. “Show yourself,” he ordered.

  With a loud cry, a man charged out from the dark, brandishing a knife in his hand. With a crazed look in his eyes, he ran straight at Sheridan. At the last second, Sheridan turned on his heel and brought up his arms in a defensive posture. His attacker slashed his knife at his bare skin. The man’s attack was clumsy. He may have been trained to fight, but unlike Sheridan, he lacked experience. Sheridan blocked the thrust with his left arm. A split second later, he smashed his right fist into his attacker’s face, splitting open his upper lip.

  The man staggered back on his feet. Blood poured down his face.

  Sheridan stepped forward, grabbed his opponent’s hand holding the knife, and twisted it over until the man cried out in pain and dropped the blade. With a flick of his foot, Sheridan kicked the knife away. Next, he pulled the man’s outstretched arm toward him and flipped him over his shoulder. With a muffled moan, the assailant landed on the ground hard, knocking the wind from his lungs. Sheridan released the man’s arm and took a step back to catch his breath when he saw another person come out of the shadows. It was a woman with a jagged rock in her hands. She crept toward Sheridan like a cat stalking its prey.

  “Stand to!” yelled Sheridan, alerting the camp’s guards.

  The woman saw the knife lying in the dirt, dropped her rock, and dove for the blade, as did Sheridan. They landed on the ground together and scrambled to reach for the knife. Unknown to Sheridan, his towel had fallen off, leaving him completely naked.

  Like an enraged animal, the woman gnashed her teeth in Sheridan’s face. Her face was contorted with hate. She stopped fighting for the knife, thrust her hands around Sheridan’s throat, and squeezed as tight as she could.

  It was like having a python wrapped around his throat. Sheridan fought to break his attacker’s grip. He smashed his fists down on her hands, trying to break her hold. It was pointless, the woman was not letting go until he was dead. Sheridan arched his back, trying to push her off his chest. It didn’t work. She wrapped her legs around Sheridan’s naked torso and squeezed. His vision blurred and began to narrow. Sheridan was seconds away from blacking out.

  A shot rang out. His assailant let go of his neck.

  Air—precious air—flowed back into Sheridan’s lungs as the lifeless body of his attacker tumbled over onto the ground. He felt a hand on his shoulder.

  “Are you okay?” asked Cole.

  Sheridan looked up and saw his friend looking down at him. In Cole’s hand was a pistol. Sheridan nodded and sat up. He looked around and saw a Marine standing guard over the body of the man who had attacked him.

  “You might want to cover yourself before the ladies get here,” said Cole, tossing Sheridan’s towel over his midsection.

  Sheridan tried to speak but found his throat felt as if it was on fire. He nodded and smiled at Cole before wrapping his towel around his waist.

  “What happened to you?” asked Tarina as she and Wendy ran to his side.

  “They attacked me,” replied Sheridan. His voice was weak and raspy.

  Cole helped him to his feet. “You look like you could use another shower.”

  Sheridan shook his head.

  “Sir, what do you want me to do with the prisoner?” asked the Marine guard.

  Cole saw Sheridan struggling to speak and took charge. “Lock him in a storeroom under twenty-four-hour guard. I don’t want this son of a bitch taking his life before I’ve had a chance to interrogate him.”

  The Marine waved another man to his side to he
lp move the prisoner.

  “What about her?” asked Wendy.

  “She should be buried in accordance with Kurgan tradition,” said Komada as he walked out of the dark and joined the others.

  Cole lost his composure. He turned on a dime, reached out, grabbed Komada by the collar of his shirt, and yanked him off his feet. “Do you know the people who just tried to kill my friend?”

  “Yes,” stammered Komada. “The man’s name was Kabban and the woman is called Karina. They have been with me from the beginning. I don’t know what could have caused them to attack Captain Sheridan. Perhaps he did something to antagonize them?”

  Cole shook Komada like a rag doll. “You’d best not antagonize me, Komada. If that is your real name. Unlike Captain Sheridan, I don’t give a damn about Marine Corps directives on the laws of interstellar conflict. I’ll never let my friend dirty his hands with the likes of you. Me, on the other hand, I’d like nothing more than to stick a knife in you and leave you to bleed out on the ground.”

  Cole released Komada and pushed him back. “From now on you and all your people will be searched before leaving the mess hall. Anyone found in possession of any kitchen utensils will be deemed an enemy combatant and sent back to Earth for interrogation by people you’ve only ever dreamed of in your worst nightmares.”

  Komada straightened out his shirt and bowed. “I will pass your orders.”

  Sheridan cleared his throat. “Also, you’re all confined to your quarters until further notice.”

  “Yes, sir.” Komada turned and walked back to his Quonset hut.

  Cole patted Sheridan on the back. “Come on, sir, you need to get cleaned up before you put your head down for the night.”

  “I doubt I’ll sleep now,” croaked Sheridan.

  “Neither will any of us,” added Tarina. “Why don’t we all get some coffee and a piece of pie from the mess tent?”

  Cole nodded. “Sounds good. I’ll clean up Prince Charming and meet you ladies there in five minutes.”

  “‘Prince Charming?’” whispered Sheridan.

  “Sir, it’s a hell of a lot better than The Flasher.”

  The sound of voices chanting loudly in Kurgan filled the air.

  “My God, they’ve been going on for hours,” said Wendy as she looked over at the deserters’ quarters. She checked her watch. “It’ll be dawn soon.”

  “They’re reciting from the scriptures,” explained Sheridan. His voice still sounded like his throat was wrapped in sandpaper, but at least it didn’t hurt to speak anymore. “I suspect Komada is preaching the virtues of not biting the hand that feeds it to his followers.”

  “It sounds like an old-time revival to me,” said Cole.

  “I know my Kurgan is rusty but I can only catch one word in twenty,” said Tarina.

  “Some of it is Old Kurgan from the time when the scriptures were first written,” expounded Sheridan. “Their language, like all languages, has changed over the millennia.”

  “Can you catch what they’re saying?” Cole asked.

  Sheridan shook his head. “I was schooled in New Kurgan at the academy. Most of what they’re saying is lost on me, too.”

  A young Marine private walked into the mess tent, came to attention, and saluted Sheridan. A worried look was etched on the man’s face.

  Sheridan returned the salute and stood up. “What’s wrong, Private?”

  “Sir, Sergeant Thomas sent me to tell you that the prisoner is dead,” answered the Marine.

  “When did this happen?”

  “A couple of minutes ago, sir.”

  Cole stood. “Private, how did he die?”

  “Poison, I think, Master Sergeant. A medical technician was sent for, but by the time she arrived the deserter was dead.”

  “Can this night get any worse?” said Sheridan under his breath.

  Cole motioned with his hand. “Okay, lead on, Private, let’s check out the body.”

  By the time they arrived, the prisoner was laid out on a table with a white sheet covering his remains.

  “What happened here?” Sheridan asked the duty NCO, Sergeant Thomas.

  “Sir, I was watching the prisoner with Private Vankov, when all of a sudden he started to convulse,” explained Thomas. “I ran over to check on him but he died within seconds.”

  “He had a poison tablet built into one of his back molars,” said the medic. “Until I get it analyzed, I can’t begin to speculate what type of poison it was. All I can say is that it was fast-acting. There was nothing Sergeant Thomas could have done to prevent this man’s death.”

  “Thanks. Before you report this higher, I’d like you to check the dead woman’s body for a similar device.”

  “Yes, sir,” replied the medic. She turned and walked over to examine the dead woman.

  “I wonder if all of Komada’s people have suicide pills built into their teeth?” said Tarina.

  “I don’t doubt it,” said Cole. “The last thing the Kurgans would want was any of their deep-cover operatives being captured alive.”

  “The dental technician is going to be busy in the morning,” mused Wendy.

  “I guess I had best tell Komada another one of his people is dead,” said Sheridan.

  Tarina said, “I’ll come with you.”

  As they made their way over to the deserters’ quarters, both Sheridan and Tarina were struck at how quiet the camp had become. Just before they arrived, a door swung open and Komada stepped out. His face was red and puffy. There was blood on the collar of his sweat-stained shirt. He labored to catch his breath.

  “Good morning, Captain,” said Komada. “I was just about to bring my people outside for their morning prayers.”

  “I’m surprised you have a voice left after the way you were preaching to your people all night long,” said Sheridan, stunned at how disheveled Komada appeared.

  “It was necessary. We needed to cleanse ourselves of any doubt or weakness. Our mission cannot be derailed by anyone who does not believe as I do in the righteousness of our path to religious freedom. It is clear to me now that the two people who attacked you lacked the required conviction. I only wish I had found out about them before they tried to kill you.”

  “As do I.” Sheridan was becoming uneasy with Komada’s pious rhetoric. It went beyond what he had been taught about the Kurgan belief system. The man was a fanatic.

  Tarina said, “Komada, Captain Sheridan and I came here to tell you that the man we had under guard took his life. I’m sorry to say, he’s dead.”

  What he did next surprised them both. Komada smiled and raised his hands up to the sky. “Lord, thank you for taking the unbeliever from us and sending his evil soul to hell. For that, I praise you.”

  “I’d like an autopsy performed on both his and the dead woman’s remains,” said Sheridan. “I can have their remains released to you for cremation before the sun sets today.”

  “That will be quite acceptable, Captain. Thank you.”

  Sheridan and Tarina stepped back and turned to leave.

  “Captain, please wait.”

  “Yes,” said Sheridan.

  Komada snapped his fingers. Right away, his people began to carry out the bloody corpses of five men and two women, which they placed on the ground at Komada’s feet in a neat row. “I hope you have enough room in your freezer for these additional bodies?”

  “Komada, what have you done?” asked Tarina, shocked at the state of the bodies. They looked like they had all been beaten to death.

  “I did what had to be done. They lacked the will to see this through to the end.”

  A man stepped out of the quarters holding a hat in his hands. He offered the cap to Sheridan, who glanced down and cringed when he saw dozens of blood-stained teeth.

  “I had all of my people remove them as a sign of loyalty to me and our glorious cause,” proclaimed Komada with a glint in his eyes. “There is no going back now. Only the pure remain here with me. This morning is historic. Today is the
first day of the Kurgan Holy War.”

  10

  Sheridan met Captain Killam at the landing pad built a couple of hundred meters outside of the camp. After exchanging salutes and handshakes, they jumped into the back of an eight-wheeled military ATV and drove to the makeshift morgue in the refrigeration unit of the mess tent. Cole met them there with a couple of heavily armed Marine military policemen. The men were assigned to be Killam’s close protection detail while he was in the camp.

  “Jesus,” muttered Killam when he was shown the bodies of the Chosen deserters who had been savagely pummeled to death by Komada and his followers. “How many of them are there now?”

  “Sir, there are sixty-four Chosen deserters still alive,” answered Cole.

  “Where are they?”

  “We thought it best if they were confined to their quarters for the duration of your visit, sir,” explained Sheridan.

  Killam shuddered when he spotted the hat filled with teeth. “Why didn’t the medical technicians’ scanners detect the poison capsules when they first examined the deserters?”

  “Sir, their equipment wasn’t powerful enough to spot the tiny pills hidden inside the deserters’ teeth.”

  Killam dug out a small tablet from his pocket and typed himself a note to send better scanning devices down to the camp. When he was done, he looked over at Sheridan. “Is there somewhere private we can go to talk?”

  “I hate to say it, but the mess tent is about as good as it gets in this camp, sir.”

  After grabbing some cool drinks, the three men sat down at a table.

  Killam opened the conversation. “Captain, the Kurgan codes you were given by Junior Lieutenant Komada appear to be genuine. We have been listening to the Kurgans for the past few days now and have learned that the Kurgs are massing their resources for something large. What it is, we don’t know yet, but we soon shall.”