“Good. Now grab a light and search the wreckage for your Marine comms specialist.”
Toscano nodded, dug out her light, and turned around to see if the young private was still in his chair.
“Okay, I’m going to check on the pilots,” announced Sheridan. “Master Sergeant Cole will see to whoever is still alive back here while Sergeant Urban checks outside the shuttle for survivors. Make sure that you don’t wander too far. If you do, you’ll get lost in this storm and become another fatality.”
Urban nodded his understanding.
Sheridan moved as best he could through the debris as he made his way to the cockpit. He found walking on the roof was a disorienting experience. Luckily, the door to the cabin was still open. Sheridan popped his head inside and moved his light around. He grimaced when he saw that a long metal beam had impaled itself into Mercier’s stomach, killing him. He turned and looked over at Parata and nearly jumped out of his skin when he saw the man sitting there strapped into his seat staring back at him.
“Guess we made the wrong call, eh, Captain?” said Parata.
“We can worry about that when this is all over.”
“I think I broke my arm,” said Parata, showing Sheridan his badly mangled limb. “How’s Mercier?”
“He’s dead. Let’s get you down from there,” said Sheridan as he helped Parata to escape his restraints.
“He was a good man,” Parata said, looking over at his dead friend.
“Yes, he was, but we’ve got a job to do.” Sheridan tore off a strip of Mercier’s uniform and made an expedient sling for Parata’s arm. He had to help guide Parata out of the cockpit. It was clear that he man was in shock. In the crew compartment, Sheridan left Parata to take a seat on a box while he went to speak with Cole.
“What’s the damage?”
“Sir, Mister Skylar and two other Marines are dead. As for wounded, one has a broken leg. Sergeant Urban can’t find one of the comms specialists. I think he was thrown out of the ship when it was ripped open.”
Sheridan shook his head. “It gets worse. Mercier is dead and Parata is in shock. Not an auspicious start to our mission.”
“Do we even know where we are?”
“No. Until the storm lifts or the satellite starts working again and sends a signal to our GPS, we’re trapped here.”
“Well, if we’re going to be here a while, we might as well make things as comfortable as possible. I’ll get the hole blocked up as best I can. No point in letting any more sand in here. Sergeant Urban can work out a sentry roster.”
“Sounds good.” Sheridan stepped back and took a seat on an overturned container. He looked down at the GPS tracker he wore on his left wrist. When he saw there was no signal available, he swore under breath. He knew from experience that sandstorms could last for days, if not weeks. Staying in the wreck wasn’t an option, nor was blindly walking out into a storm. He needed some good luck and he needed it fast.
Chapter 20
The mood inside the packed briefing room aboard the Colossus was stressed. The mission to free the hostages, planned in haste, looked to be coming apart.
Admiral Sheridan looked over at Captain Killam. “Captain, you may begin the update brief.”
Killam cleared his throat and brought up an image of Klatt. “Ladies and gentlemen, as you have all no doubt heard, Phase One of Operation Trident Fury has not gone according to plan. Only one of the two satellites in orbit above the planet is working. Unfortunately, it keeps cutting in and out. I have been told that it is a software glitch that cannot be corrected in time before the commencement of the raid.”
“What about the reconnaissance team?” asked Colonel White, a broad-shouldered Marine officer with a stern visage and smooth shaven head. “Has there been any word from them?”
“None,” replied Killam. “They could have landed, or they could have crashed. Without a fully functioning satellite, we may never hear from them until the task force arrives over Klatt.”
“Surely the mission is already a failure,” said Captain Hodges, the commander of the missile cruiser Ford. “In my opinion, flying into Kurgan space without knowing what is going on around Klatt would be rash and highly dangerous.”
Sheridan raised a hand to silence any further discussion. “Please carry on with your brief, Captain Killam.”
“Sir, intelligence intercepts have told us that the Kurgan blood ritual has been moved up by a day and up to a battalion of Imperial Guard soldiers will be involved in the ceremony.”
Admiral Sheridan fixed his steely gaze on the people sitting around the table. “Folks, let there be no doubt in your minds, this fleet will deploy a task force to rescue those prisoners. My orders are clear, we will launch a raid into Kurgan space with or without proper intelligence preparation of the battlespace. There are, however, two changes to Captain Killam’s original plan. First, we will go one day earlier than anticipated and the second is that we must also destroy a Kurgan installation as part of the operation.”
Off to one side at the back of the room, Colonel Wright smiled. They had accepted his plan.
Admiral Sheridan continued. “Captain Killam will now outline the operational plan.”
Killam pressed a button on his lectern and an image of the asteroid field halfway to Klatt appeared. “Trident Fury will be conducted in four phases. “Phase One has already begun. This was the deployment of the satellites and the reconnaissance team to Klatt. Phase Two will involve the deployment of the task force led by the carrier Saratoga. It will consist of the fighter carrier with a reduced number of escort and support vessels. We will be bringing with us six battalion-sized landing ships to evacuate the prisoners in. The Marine assault force will be carried in another three craft, and three more will be held in reserve just in case we need them. In order to ensure that the task force goes in undetected, Colonel Wright’s team will neutralize the Kurgan listening post on the edge of the asteroid field.” An image of the Kurgan post appeared. No one ever mentioned Wright’s squadron by name, but everyone suspected that they were a special warfare organization.
Killam switched the picture to the prison planet. “Phase Three will be the ground force insertion phase of the operation and will not be deemed complete until we have rescued as many of the captives as we possibly can. Phase Four will be the task forces’ safe return to our side of the border.”
“Thank you, Captain,” said the admiral. He stood up, moved over to the lectern, and rested a hand on it. “Folks, I said this days ago, this operation is not about combat power, it is about logistics. To mask our true intentions, the task force will be jumping from multiple locations spread throughout our area of operations. The only way this mission could be scrubbed is if we lose too many landing craft. That call will be made by me at the RV point near the asteroid belt.”
“You, sir?” said Captain Jackson, the fighter carrier Saratoga’s captain. The crushed look on his face betrayed his disappointment that he would not be leading the raid.
“Yes, Captain. I will be personally commanding this operation. I have already told my staff to transfer my flag to your ship no later than eighteen hundred hours today. I spoke with Admiral Oshiro earlier in the day and informed him of my decision to appoint Rear-Admiral Julie Foster, my deputy, to acting commander of the Sixth Fleet in my absence. He fully supported both decisions.”
“This is highly irregular, sir,” said Foster, leaning far forward in her chair. She was a slender woman in her early fifties with short brown hair and coal-black eyes. “What if something should happen to you?”
“Then you’ll get the command you were hoping for,” replied Robert Sheridan with a smile. “Julie, I have to do this. There is nothing you or anyone else can say that would make me change my mind.” Everyone in the room knew that to be true. Once he had made his decision, Admiral Sheridan never wavered from the course of action he had chosen.
“Yes, sir,” said Foster, sitting back.
“I want everyone to retu
rn to their respective ships and begin your pre-jump preparations. We will commence with Phase Two in precisely twenty-three hours and five minutes’ time,” said the admiral, glancing over at the clock on the wall.
The meeting adjourned. Everyone stood and began to file out of the room.
“Colonel Wright, if you could stay behind,” said Admiral Sheridan.
Wright stood where he was and waited until only he and the admiral were left in the room. “How can I help you, sir?”
“Colonel, can you do what you’re proposing to do before the enemy can get off a signal that they are under attack?”
Wright grinned. “Yes, sir. When you come out of your initial jump, there’ll be nothing left of the Kurgan base to warn Klatt that you are coming. You have my word.”
“Very good, Colonel. I’m keeping you from your people.”
Wright saluted, turned, and left the room.
Admiral Sheridan watched Wright leave. He felt the muscles on the back of his neck tense. So many things had gone wrong and they had barely begun the operation. A million more things could go off the rails and he knew it. He ran a hand over his neck. He could tell that he was already heading for an agonizing migraine. A visit to the infirmary for some painkillers was in order as he knew that he would not rest until the task force was back on the Terran side of the disputed zone, days from now.
Chapter 21
Michael Sheridan’s luck began to change a couple of hours after they had crashed on Klatt. The missing Marine, who had been thrown out of the shuttle, staggered into their makeshift camp. He was a mess. Blood and sand covered his face. He had lost an eye and shattered his left wrist, but had somehow found the rest of his team. Sergeant Urban helped the young man into the wreckage of the shuttlecraft and looked after the man’s wounds as best he could. The next break came when the storm began to abate. On the horizon, a rose-colored sun started to rise.
Sheridan was ready to rip the GPS off his wrist. Each and every time that he had checked it, it always said that there was no signal. The second satellite must be down for good, he thought to himself.
“Oy, you don’t need that hunk of junk,” said Cole as took a seat next to Sheridan.
“Why’s that?”
Cole held up a piece of string with a needle hanging from the end of it.
“What’s that?”
“Weren’t you ever a Boy Scout? It’s an expedient compass. I rubbed one of the needles from the first aid kit with a piece of fabric to magnetize it. Then I hung it from this string and held it out in front of me, and voila, it pointed north.”
Sheridan had to smile at his friend’s resourcefulness. “If we assume that we landed somewhere near my proposed landing site, then the prison is off somewhere to the east of us. When the sun comes up, we should be able to see the tall mountain range where the mine is located.”
Cole looked over at Parata. He looked more like himself after a few hours’ rest. In a hushed tone, Cole said, “Sir, what are we going to do about our wounded personnel? They’ll only slow us down and will be next to useless in a fight should we bump into a Kurg patrol.”
“We’re going to have to leave them here. Parata will be in charge until we come back or they are rescued by someone else. We’ll take the remainder with us. I spoke with Toscano and she feels confident enough to be able to co-ord fire from the fleet and direct in the fighter-bombers and troop carriers when they drop down from orbit. ”
“I hope she’s as good as she says she is, as we’ve got no one else.”
“How long do you think it’ll be before the sun rises enough for us to see the mountains and get our bearings?”
Cole glanced at his watch. “After breakfast we should be good.”
Sheridan shook his head. “You and your stomach.”
“First order of survival, sir. Get some nosh into you. You never know when you’ll eat again.”
“Okay, break out the rations and we’ll have a quick bite to eat. After breakfast, we need to discuss how we’re going to divvy up the kit that we need to take with us.”
“Already done. While you caught forty winks, Sergeant Urban and I went through our supplies and made sure that we had enough food and water to sustain us for up to ninety-six hours. We also decided to bring along an extra radio in case the other two fail. Considering how things have been going so far. I thought it prudent to err on the side of caution. Wouldn’t you agree?”
“Yes, I would. What about supplies for the people staying back here?”
Cole feigned being hurt. “Please, sir, do you honestly think I wouldn’t factor them into my planning. They’ll be far more comfortable than we will be with all of the supplies we’re leaving behind for them.”
Sheridan raised his hands in defeat. “Sorry, I should have known that you would do this.”
“Just doing my job.” Cole reached into an open box of rations and tossed a meal at Sheridan.
He caught it and read the label. With a sour look on his face, Sheridan said, “Beans . . . you always give me beans for breakfast. For once I’d like to have something different.”
“You want to trade?”
“Sure,” he said throwing his ration over in exchange for Cole’s food. When he turned it over and read the packaging, he shook his head. “Beans!”
“We got a whole box of them. I bet the boys in the First Div don’t eat the same meal day after day. In fact, I’m sure of it. Ain’t it grand to be on the frontlines? Now, eat up, Captain.”
An hour later, Sheridan and Cole lay on their stomachs on the top of a nearby hill. The wind had died down so much that they could see for kilometers in all directions. As anticipated, they could see the mountains to the east. Silhouetted against the horizon, it looked like a devil’s pitchfork.
Sheridan lowered his binoculars and looked over at Cole. “The middle mountain is where the prison is located. What do you think . . . thirty klicks?
“Yeah, maybe less but not much less.”
“I’d love to launch a drone over toward the mine to see what the ground looks like between it and us.”
“Yeah, and if you did that, the Kurgs would know we’re here for sure. Their sensors would light up like a Christmas tree if we put something up in the air.”
“It’s already getting hot,” pointed out Sheridan. “Within the hour it’ll get up to nearly fifty Celsius. I’d rather wait until tonight when it’s cooler to begin our trek, but we don’t have the time to waste.”
“If we walk slow and steady, we should be all right.”
Sheridan nodded. “Okay, let’s round up the gang and get going.”
Chapter 22
A thick cloud of dust hung in the air. Tarina waited for the signal to enter the newly blown open mine shaft to grab the rocks and place them in the back of a long transport vehicle that looked like a robotic snake. She had heard a rumor over breakfast that they would be given a new assignment in the next day or two. Angela explained that just prior to the arrival of the Inspector General the prison commandant liked to get the prisoners to clean their living quarters up a bit. It was all smoke and mirrors intended to make it look like he was doing a good job looking after the mine.
A whistle sounded.
Tarina trudged forward. She brought up her dirt-encrusted shirt over her mouth so she wouldn’t breathe in the fine dust particles. Beside her Wendy did the same thing. There had been no time this morning for Tarina to ask her how her reconnaissance of the escape tunnel had gone the night before. She had tried to stay awake the whole time the two women were gone but hardly lasted ten minutes before exhaustion took over and pulled her into a deep sleep. Tarina waited a moment for the dust to settle before beginning the arduous and backbreaking work of hauling the rocks out of the debris-strewn tunnel.
For close to three hours, the prisoners worked without respite. Tarina’s body was soon covered in sweat and dust. She had grown accustomed to being filthy. In fact, she doubted that she would ever come clean.
Another whistle sounded. Everyone stopped what they were doing and shuffled over to a cart with a large metal pail of water on it. People queued up and waited their turn to get a cup of water. It was never enough to sate the burning thirst in their throats, but it was all they were going to get before the supper meal.
Travis walked up and down the row of prisoners, poking and prodding them with a wooden baton looking for any sign of defiance. Tarina turned her head to the ground as he got close. A second later, she felt his wooden truncheon against her ribs. She fought the urge to reach over and scratch the man’s eyes out. She knew that would be foolish and result in not only her death but that of her friends. She watched his shadow pass only to stop alongside Wendy. Tarina bit her lip and raised her head to see what was happening.
“I bet you don’t realize how lucky you are that Kurg colonel never selected you when he was here a few days ago,” said Travis to Wendy.
Wendy said nothing. She kept her gaze fixed on the back of the person in front of her.
Travis thrust his baton under Wendy’s chin and forced her to lift her head. He kept raising his stick until Wendy was on her tiptoes. Slowly, he forced her to step out of line with the others. He smiled lustfully at her as he lowered his truncheon. “Look at me, Captain. I’m speaking to you.”
Wendy took a deep breath and with reluctance turned her head.
“That’s better. Now, do you have any idea why you should consider yourself extremely lucky? Do you ,girl?”
Wendy shook her head.
“Believe it or not your red hair saved your life. The Kurgs hate it. I, on the other hand, find it sexy.”
Wendy felt her skin crawl as he leaned forward and studied her face.
Travis continued “You’re one fortunate girl. For you see, three days from now, my dear captain, all those people whose names are in my little black book will be leaving us and never returning. Do you know why?”
Trident Fury (The Kurgan War Book 3) Page 12