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decisions to win. Sometimes people die.”

“Sir, I’m not disputing that. If you don’t think that Gruber would use you to gain a battlefield advantage, then you’re fooling yourself. You, I, all of us are a means to an end. You’re young and you care about the people you serve with, and that’s a good thing for an officer. The sooner we’re assigned back to a regiment the less of a chance of us being used up and tossed away.”

Sheridan shook his head. “You do realize that you can be quite the cynic sometimes, Sergeant.”

Cole smiled. “Sir, I tell everyone that I meet that you’re the smartest officer I have ever met, but you have one failing.”

“And that is?”

“You trust people too much. A healthy dose of pessimism from time to time will serve you well in your career. Look, I could be wrong about the general, but my experience to date tells me to be leery.”

“Okay, let’s wait until tomorrow to see why the general wants to see us. If it’s for some foolhardy scheme, then you may be right. However, until then, I’m going to continue to be me.”

Cole stuck out his hand. “Fair enough. I wish I still drank. I’d bet a case of Scotch on this and I’d win.”

“Dream on, Sergeant,” replied Sheridan shaking his friend’s hand.

At precisely 0800 hours the next day, General Gruber’s aide escorted Sheridan and Cole into his office. The general stood by a map on the wall, carefully studying it. The aide announced that Sheridan and Cole were present. Gruber dismissed the officer and asked his guests to join him by the map.

Sheridan could see all of the Marines and the known enemy positions marked on the map. The Kurgan had acted doctrinal to date; therefore, it had been easy for the intelligence staff to plot their expected locations on the map.

“Gents, in about four days’ time, I’m going to need to be able to speak with all of my units and with anyone in orbit above us,” announced the general.

Sheridan and Cole exchanged a look of surprise. 

“That’s right, gents, help is on the way. You, however, are forbidden to repeat that to anyone outside of this room. The problem is that the enemy won’t let me talk to anyone, so I need someone to go outside of the capital and find and destroy the Kurgans’ jamming station. My intelligence folks think that it’s located here near the rear of the Kurgan administrative echelon forces.” Gruber pointed to a spot on the map at least thirty kilometers from the city.

Sheridan leaned forward to study the map. They had walked within a few kilometers of the site when they were trying to reach the capital.

Gruber continued. “Obviously, you can’t do this all on your own, so I’m going to provide you with a platoon from the newly arrived Marine battalion. They’re fresh and are spoiling for a fight.”

Sheridan said, “Sir, a platoon moving around outside the city is going to be spotted far too easily. We’ll need to split up into four-man teams to move through the refugee camps as unobtrusively as possible. All I need are sixteen volunteers to get this done.”

“Son, I’m not finished. I also want you to escort a fire effects officer and an aerospace controller to a safe location where they can see the bulk of the Kurgan forces. I was thinking that these high grounds to the west look good.” 

At the academy, Sheridan had been taught that a fire effects officer could control and coordinate the fire from a mortar all the way up to a battleship in orbit high above the planet. The aerospace controller would be responsible to bring in the landing ships and fighter-bombers from the approaching fleet. Sheridan stepped forward and studied the positions the general had picked. They were on the route he would have to use to get to the jamming station. “Sir, this means that I need six more volunteers for a total of twenty-two. Anything more than that and we’ll be spotted for sure.”

“I think you may be selling yourself short, but it’s your call, son.”

Cole spoke up. “Sir, I have to agree with Mister Sheridan, it’s unfriendly territory out there. Too many new faces moving about will make people suspicious.”

Gruber nodded. It was done. “Gents, I’ll make sure you get the best soldiers I can get my hands on.”

“Sir, please make sure we get some women,” added Cole. “In my experience, women refugees tend to open up to other women more than a bunch of strange men who walk into their camp and start asking questions.”

“That’s a good point,” agreed Sheridan.

“Okay, I’ll make it happen. Anything else?” asked Gruber. Both men shook their heads. “Well, if that’s it, I’ll hand you two off to the intelligence staff again. They’ll give you all the details you’ll need to pull this off.” With that, he shook their hands and dismissed the two Marines. “Good luck to you. An awful lot of people are counting on you to end the Kurgans’ ability to jam all of our comms.”

Outside the room, Cole turned to Sheridan. “No pressure, sir. All they want us to do is stroll thirty klicks through enemy territory, find a jamming station, which is probably guarded by at least a platoon of Chosen warriors, blow it up and then get out of there without being killed. I think I just won my case of Scotch.”

“Yeah, you may have,” said Sheridan.

Eight hours later, in the basement of an abandoned house, Sheridan stood over a model on the floor of the ground they were going to have to move across. He, like everyone there, had changed into civilian clothing. Some carried their uniforms in their small packs to be put on later while others brought Chosen winter white coveralls. All carried Kurgan small arms taken from the dead. Sheridan looked into the eyes of the men and women who had volunteered to come with him. They all looked incredibly young to him. Although only twenty-two, Sheridan felt old compared to the sea of eighteen-year-old faces looking up at him. “Okay, people, listen up, first off, I want to thank you all for volunteering for this dangerous assignment. Secondly, and this isn’t a dig at your officers and NCOs, but you don’t know crap. It’s a different world outside of the capital. It’s a lawless environment in which refugees, collaborators, black-marketeers, and Chosen soldiers interact.”

He paused for a moment. No one said a word. Sheridan pointed down at his model. “Marines, this is what I want to happen . . .” For the next two hours, Sheridan briefed and then quizzed his people on what they were going to do. Once he was satisfied that they understood their jobs, he broke them down into their teams. Garcia was going to lead a group escorting the fire effects officer. Roberts’ group would look after the aerospace controller. Sheridan’s assault force was broken down into four groups of four. He and Cole would travel together through the refugee camps trying to learn what they could about the jamming station. The remainder would take a longer route through the woods trying to avoid any contact whatsoever with the refugees and the enemy. They would all rendezvous at a spot near the jamming station in a few days’ time.

Cole walked over by Sheridan. “Sir, that was a good set of orders, I don’t think you missed a thing. However, time is slipping by, and we’ll need to get moving in the next thirty minutes if we’re going to meet your timings.”

Sheridan glanced down at his watch. He was surprised how fast things were proceeding. “Okay, Sergeant, let’s get to work.”

Hidden in the darkened tunnel’s exit, Sheridan looked out at the falling snow and smiled. At least the weather was cooperating. Their initial moves would be unobserved. He turned and whispered to Cole, “First team up.”

Garcia moved beside Sheridan. He shook her hand and wished her luck. “See you back at the bunker, sir,” said Garcia. With a wave of her hand, she led her team out of the tunnel. Within seconds, they were lost from sight. Roberts was up next. Five minutes later, he shook Sheridan’s hand and with Tammy by his side, Roberts and his group stepped off on their journey. At five-minute intervals, all of the teams departed leaving Sheridan and Cole alone in the tunnel.

“In for a penny, in for a pound,” said Sheridan as he stepped out into the night. He pulled up the collar on his jacket to stop the swirling snow from going down the back of his neck. Cole, with his hands jammed deep into his coat’s pockets, walked beside Sheridan, neither man saying a word. Behind them, the heavy metal grate was closed and locked by a couple of MPs. 

Sheridan and his people were on their own again.

Chapter 37

Admiral Sheridan welcomed his last strike force commander to arrive on board his flagship. He then took center stage directly in front of a large screen. Under his command for the liberation of Derra-5 were three strike forces, each one built around a fighter carrier and all of its accompanying fighting and support vessels. In total, he would be leading over one hundred and fifty ships into battle. 

Admiral Sheridan knew the people in the room represented some of the finest officers and master chief petty officers that he had ever served with. He was proud of them all. He cleared his throat and began. “Ladies and gentlemen, the time has come for us to strike back at the enemy. All across the frontier, our forces have been pushed back. Well, that all ends today. Until now, I have deliberately kept you in the dark as to the real location for our first engagement with the enemy. Some of you may have heard that we are to spearhead an assault on Illum Prime. That, however, is nothing more than a smokescreen to confuse the enemy. Our objective is Derra-5.” 

An image of the planet and the Kurgan Fleet appeared on a massive screen behind him. 

He continued. “Information provided to us indicates that the enemy has two carriers, ten cruisers, and three destroyers as his principal fighting force. There are also dozens of other smaller support vessels in orbit above the planet. When our force ratios are compared, we will have a three to two advantage in combat power.”

A slender, blonde-haired rear admiral leaned forward so she could be seen. “Sir, those are good odds; however, is there any way we could shave those odds down a little before we go toe-to-toe with the enemy?”

“Helen, there are, and it will all become clear when Captain Killam, my operations officer, presents our plan of attack. I have named this mission Operation Hammer.”

Killam, a redheaded man with pockmarked skin on his face stood up, moved over to the lectern, and began his presentation. He spoke for nearly an hour; when he was done, he asked if anyone had any questions. Aside from General Denisov, the ground force commander, forcefully reminding everyone to keep the enemy away from his landing craft, there was no discussion about the plan.

Admiral Sheridan thanked Killam and walked back to the front of the briefing room. “Folks, this is not to be shared with anyone but your immediate staff and your