Colossus (The Kurgan War Book 2)

by Richard Turner

“Because, sir, I’ve got this horrible feeling that the enemy counterattack that we’ve been told not to worry about will turn out to be their main effort. That’s why.”

  Sheridan’s executive officer, First Lieutenant Patricia York, had established the company command post in one of the Kurgan’s abandoned bunkers. Like Cole, she was English. She spoke quickly and her accent was so thick that at times, Sheridan looked to Cole to help translate what she was saying.

  “So, Miss York, what have you done in my absence?” Sheridan asked as he took off his helmet and ran his hand through his short black hair.

  “Sir, Gunnery Sergeant Jones and I sighted the support weapons to cover our front,” she replied, taking her time to speak.

  “Good. I’ll have Master Sergeant Cole check their arcs right after this,” said Sheridan. Patricia York may have been an industrious officer, but he would not rest until he knew that Cole was happy with how things had been laid out. “What else have you done?”

  “Sir, Private Green has our drone hovering above the position. It can see for kilometers in every direction.”

  Sheridan leaned forward and looked at the feed on a laptop computer resting on an overturned ammunition crate. He moved his finger along the screen and studied the image sent back by the UAV. “Well done, anything else?”

  “I have deployed two automated suppression units one hundred meters from the base of the hill facing north toward the likely enemy avenues of advance,” explained York. The weapons were 20mm cannons capable of hitting a flea on a dog’s back at one thousand meters away. The problem was that they went through ammunition very quickly . . . too fast most of the time.

  On the screen of another laptop, Sheridan saw the icons representing the two robots sitting at the front of the hill. He enlarged the image and looked at the long line of red dots on top of the hill. Each dot was for one of his Marines. Every one of them wore a watch with a tracking device in it so they could be found should anything go wrong.

  “I think we’re out of a job, sir,” said Cole over Sheridan’s shoulder. “Looks like Miss York has covered all the bases.”

  “Yeah, looks that way. However, I’d like Corporal Roberts and Tammy on our extreme right flank. When the sandstorm hits, all of our toys will be rendered useless, and we’ll be down to a dog as our primary means of detection.”

  Corporal Garcia entered the bunker. In her hands was a replacement handset for Sheridan’s radio. Ever since taking over as the commanding officer of Alpha Company, Sheridan had kept Garcia as his chief radio/telecommunications expert.

  “Thanks,” said Sheridan as he took the handset from Garcia. “Where did the fire support controller set up?”

  “Sir, she and her team are in the next bunker about fifty meters down the line,” replied Garcia.

  “I’d like you to set up a comms line between them and our headquarters and then you can set up shop in here, just in case our radios crap out.”

  “Yes, sir,” said Garcia. She picked up a bag from the dusty floor and went to lay an old-fashioned landline between the two bunkers.

  “Well, Patricia, it looks like you have everything in hand,” said Sheridan, picking up his helmet. “Master Sergeant Cole and I are going to tour the line. I expect that we’ll be gone for about ninety minutes. Have all the platoon leaders here when we get back.”

  “Yes, sir,” replied York. “I’ll also coord with the fire control team to cover the front of the company with indirect fire.”

  “Let them know that the guns will be dropping a minefield on our right flank. Have them direct the guns from their location. I want the obstacle to be deep and impenetrable.”

  “Got it, sir.”

  Sheridan smiled. He placed his helmet on his head. “Come on, Master Sergeant, let’s go and see if we are really out of a job.”

  Aside from adjusting the arcs of one machine gun, Sheridan and Cole had found that York and Gunnery Sergeant Jones had done a good job interlocking the weapons’ fields of fire. When they arrived back at the command bunker, the company’s leadership had assembled. Gunny Jones now commanded Cardoso’s platoon. The two other platoons were led by Second Lieutenant Ford and Second Lieutenant Jindal, both fresh out of Officer Candidate School. Staff Sergeant Doring was there as the company’s fire control team leader.

  Sheridan pulled out an ammunition box and sat down on it. “Okay, folks, Master Sergeant Cole and I have walked the line, and it’s as good as it’s going to get today. Second Lieutenants Jindal and Ford will continue to occupy the first line of trenches with Gunny Ford in reserve. It’ll be dark soon. Come the morning, I expect all of you to continue to improve your platoon positions.”

  “Yes, sir,” replied the three platoon leaders in unison.

  For the next ten minutes, Sheridan briefed his people on the tactical situation and the coming sandstorm.

  “Don’t be under any illusions when this storm hits, the winds could reach up to one hundred kilometers an hour. And since it is coming down from the north, it will be right in our faces. Make sure that all of your people have their goggles with them at all times from now on.”

  “Sir, what if the enemy decides to strike during the sandstorm?” asked Jindal.

  “Then we’ll have a bloody and confused fight on our hands,” replied Sheridan bluntly.

  An uncomfortable silence fell on the young officers.

  Cole said, “Gents, listen to your platoon sergeants and you’ll all do all right. Gunny Jones, I want your men to bury the Kurgan dead behind the position in a shallow grave. You can obtain a crimson flag from the XO to mark the ground.”

  “Don’t forget, people,” said York, “I need your administrative reports no later than nineteen hundred hours tonight.”

  Sheridan looked into the faces of the men and women that made up the command team of his company. He could see that they were tired and apprehensive. Waiting for something to happen was always more taxing on the nerves. Sheridan was never comfortable giving pep talks; they always sounded contrived. However, he could see that one was needed.

  “Okay, people, I need you to be on your toes for the next few days. Remember that Alpha Company is known as the Red Devils. If the enemy decides to look for a fight, we’ll give them one and send them right back to hell.”

  “Hell yeah!” yelled Second Lieutenant Ford, his Texan accent coming to the forefront.

  The platoon leaders all enthusiastically high-fived one another as they left the bunker.

  Cole took a seat and removed his helmet. His hair, as usual was down to the wood. He looked over at Sheridan. “Really, sir . . . Red Devils!”

  Sheridan shrugged. “It was all I could think of.”

  “Sir, how do you want to divvy up the duty roster?”

  “I think four-hour shifts should work. Miss York can be on first, then me, and you, naturally, will take the last watch since you enjoy waking everyone up in the morning.”

  “What can I say, sir, I’m a morning person.”

  “More like a masochist.”

  Chapter 4

  Admiral Sheridan sipped his cup of coffee while he listened to Captain Killam’s summation of the day’s events. They had come off quite lightly in losses of manpower and material compared with the battle for Derra-5. Still the loss of over eight hundred people bothered him.

  “Captain, have you received an update from the invasion force?”

  Killam brought up a map on the screen showing the location of all of the ground force units. “Sir, General Denisov reports that his lead divisions are heavily engaged with the Kurgan forces in and around the capital of Illum Prime. We are supporting their advance with fire from our missile frigates and with sorties launched by the fleet’s fighter carriers. Our support ships have already deployed a number of satellites to help improve communications with the ground force. Also, our hospital ships have started accepting casualties from the surface.”

  Admiral Sheridan ran a hand over his chin. “Speaking of carriers, I was more tha
n a little surprised when we only found one enemy carrier in orbit. I had expected at least three.”

  “Yes, sir, so was I. Intelligence had reported that there were three carriers as part of the Kurgan Fleet operating in this sector. Perhaps they had been called away on another mission?”

  “I don’t like it,” said the admiral. “Not one bit. We attacked in overwhelming force today in order to destroy those carriers. As long as the enemy continues to keep his fighter carriers in the war, the longer this thing will drag on. They’re the Kurgans best power projection asset. Captain, I consider those carriers to be an immediate and potent threat to this fleet. I want them found and destroyed!”

  “Yes, sir,” replied Killam. He knew that his boss was like a dog with a bone. He was not going to let it go until he had finished off the Kurgan’s carriers. “I’ll get the combat patrol and early warning ships deployed right away.”

  Sheridan nodded. He knew that Killam was good at what he did. Although he did not want to lose him; Killam would soon command of a ship of his own.

  Commander Roy entered the room and quietly made her way over beside the admiral. She slipped him a note before stepping back and taking her usual post.

  Admiral Sheridan saw that it was from General Denisov. He could feel his heart begin to race. He opened the message, read it, and smiled. It was a short note saying that Michael was all right. His name was not on the casualty list from the day’s fighting. He put the paper in his pocket and looked over at Roy, who nodded at him. She had a sister in the fleet and knew what it was like to constantly worry if the person you loved was still alive.

  “How is the Colossus doing?” asked the admiral.

  “A tug has taken her in tow. She is being towed back to a repair and maintenance ship. Her captain expects her to be back in the fight in a couple of days,” reported Killam.

  “When she’s operational, I want my flag transferred back there.”

  “Sir, is there something wrong with the Saratoga?” asked Roy.

  Admiral Sheridan shook his head. “No, but I like things as they were on the Colossus. It’s home for me.”

  Chapter 5

  Captain Sheridan pulled his lightweight blanket around his shoulders and looked down at the images on the laptop screen sent from the drone hovering above their position. He had brought up the thermal picture and could see a couple of small animals moving about on the desert floor. Their bodies glowed bright white on the screen. They looked like foxes or small coyotes to him. He was not sure if the animals were native to the planet or had been brought by colonists when they had first arrived over a century ago. A second later, they took off racing after a much smaller animal that tried unsuccessfully to evade capture and death.

  Sheridan checked his watch and saw that it was nearly time to wake up Cole. He turned up the small chemical stove in the bunker and put on some water for coffee. It was barely above freezing inside the shelter. Sheridan could see his breath like a fine fog hovering in the air. He reached down and gave Cole a nudge. “Time to get up, Master Sergeant.”

  Cole was instantly awake. He sat straight up and reached for his rifle.

  “Easy does it, old man. The enemy isn’t here. You’re on shift.”

  “Bloody hell, sir, it’s chilly in here,” said Cole as he got up off the ground and stamped his cold feet. “And I’m not old. I’m experienced.”

  “Do you miss the heat now?”

  “If you weren’t an officer, sir, I’d tell you to go to hell.”

  Sheridan chuckled and handed his friend a cup of hot coffee.

  Cole took the cup and walked over to the laptops. “Anything to report?”

  “Apart from a couple of coyotes grabbing a late-night snack, the monitors have been quiet.”

  “That’s good news,” Cole said, taking a seat beside Sheridan. He looked into Sheridan’s green eyes and said, “You know, sir, you really piss me off sometimes.”

  “Whoa, where’s this coming from?”

  “Sir, think about it. Yesterday, you could have been killed when you attacked that machine gun bunker all by yourself. I’m not kidding when I say that I’m not breaking in a new officer. It’s you until the end of the war. So don’t try anything as stupid as that ever again.”

  Sheridan raised his hands in mock surrender. “Okay, you win, I won’t do that again.”

  “Good. Now get some sleep. I’ve a feeling that the rest of the day will not be too restful.”

  “You’re quite the pessimist, Master Sergeant.”

  “It’s kept us both alive so far. Now be a good officer and get some sleep.”

  Sheridan had no retort. He walked over to a corner of the bunker, sat down, wrapped his blanket around himself, and closed his eyes. He was asleep in seconds.

  “Sir, sir, you need to wake up,” said Cole as he shook Sheridan awake.

  “What is it?” asked Sheridan sleepily. He looked down at his watch and saw that he had only been asleep for a couple of hours. It was still dark outside.

  Cole handed Sheridan a cup of boiling hot soup. “Sir, Petty Officer Second Class Rodgers has something he needs to tell you.”

  Sheridan recognized the name belonging to the company’s senior medical corpsman. “What does he want?”

  “It’s better if he explains it himself,” replied Cole. He turned and called in the corpsman.

  Petty Officer Rodgers walked into the bunker. He looked tired and cold. Cole offered him a cup of soup.

  “What’s up, PO?” asked Sheridan.

  “Sir, I was checking on the men and found that some of them have come down with eye worms,” explained Rodgers.

  Sheridan shuddered at the thought of a parasite taking up residence in his eyes. “Is it serious?”

  “No sir, I have already given those affected an injection to kill the worms. The problem is that it causes temporary blindness in the host for up to three days.”

  “PO, how many Marines are we talking about?” asked Cole.

  “Four right now, Master Sergeant. However, I expect more will be found as the day progresses.”

  “I thought our uniforms had been treated with bug juice to prevent this very problem,” said Sheridan.

  “Yes, sir, the insecticide works on most insects found on this planet; however, the worms are getting in the troops’ eyes when they rub them,” explained Rodgers. “It would appear that this hill is crawling with the parasites.”

  “What would you recommend we do to minimize further casualties?” asked Cole.

  “Master Sergeant, I would order the entire company to put on their goggles and leave them on until we leave this position. That includes sleeping. I would also insist that the troops do not rub their eyes unless they have first washed their hands.”

  Cole stood up. “I’ll pass the word. The first person I catch not wearing their goggles from now on will get to feel my size twelve boot on their behind.”

  Sheridan nodded and reached for his goggles. “Anything else, PO?”

  “No, sir.”

  “Thanks and good work.”

  Rodgers turned about and exited the bunker.

  Cole picked up his rifle. “Sir, while you were sleeping I sent out a couple of patrols to check for signs of enemy infiltration. They should be on their way back.”

  Sheridan moved over to the drone’s laptop and moved the camera around until he saw the heat signatures from the two patrols climbing their way up the hill back to their respective platoon positions. He had forgotten to order the patrols to be dispatched before first light. Thankfully, Cole, as usual, had remembered. Sheridan stood up and stretched out his aching back muscles. He heard his bones snap and pop as he raised his hands over his head.

  It was time to wake up the remainder of the headquarters. First, he fired up the stove to get some hot water going before he shook his people awake.

  After eating a quick breakfast, Sheridan and Cole left the headquarters in the capable hands of First Lieutenant York and went to tour the
company’s position. Already the heat was becoming unbearable. Sheridan looked up into the azure sky. There was not a cloud in sight.

  “It’s difficult to believe that in a few hours we won’t be able to see a thing,” said Cole.

  “Have you ever been in a sandstorm before?” asked Sheridan.

  “Yeah, once before when I was a young private. It lasted for almost a week. When it was over, I had sand everywhere, and I do mean everywhere. It took ages before I felt clean again.”

  “Master Sergeant, I have a hard time believing that you were ever a private,” chided Sheridan.

  “Yeah, well, I’ve seen you as a Two-LT, so I know that you’ve had to learn your job the hard way.”

  They found Roberts and Tammy taking shade in a bunker at the far end of the trench line. Tammy barked enthusiastically and ran over for some attention when she spotted some familiar faces. Sheridan patted her on the head and gave her a hug.

  “What are you going to do for the dog when the sandstorm hits?” Coe asked Roberts.

  He held up a medical mask. “The doc gave this to me. It fits over her nose and mouth Tammy doesn’t like it, but she’ll just have to live with it for a couple of days.”

  “I hope it works. I’m counting on her to act as our early warning,” said Sheridan.

  “Don’t worry, sir, if the Kurgans come skulking around, Tammy will smell them long before she sees them. Ain’t that right?” Roberts said as he grabbed his dog’s head and gave it a hug.

  Tammy barked.

  “I wish all the Marines we had were that enthusiastic,” said Cole.

  Second Lieutenant Jindal walked in on the conversation. “Sir, I heard that you were here. Is there anything I can do for you?”

  “No, Mister Jindal, Master Sergeant Cole and I are just checking up on the company. I’ll speak to you when we get to your platoon headquarters,” replied Sheridan.

  “Yes, sir,” said Jindal before scurrying off to await Sheridan’s arrival.

  Cole grinned. “You’re gonna give that man a complex if you keep that up, sir.”