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I bet he’s willing to trade information for food. Cover me.” 

Sheridan sat down by the fire and pulled out a tube of meat paste. He held it up so the starved soldier could see it. The man instantly reached out for the food. “First, I want to know your name. Why did you run away from your unit?” Sheridan asked in Kurgan.

The soldier’s eyes widened. His face told Sheridan that the man hadn’t expected a human to be able to speak Kurgan. Sheridan repeated his question. The warrior looked from Sheridan to Cole. He crawled back and stared at Sheridan with fear in his eyes. His officers had told him that unbelievers couldn’t speak the language of their Lord.

Cole aimed his pistol it at the man’s head.

“My name is Kimdar,” said the Chosen. “I’m hungry. I didn’t run away. We’ve seen humans paid for their work with our rations. I just went to look for some food.”

“Your face is bruised and your uniform is stained with blood. Did your officer beat you?” asked Sheridan.

The warrior looked down. “I was weak. I hesitated in battle. I deserved my punishment; it has helped me become closer to the Lord and for that I am grateful.” Sheridan translated the conversation for Cole.

“Ask him where his weapon is and when was the last time that he ate?” said Cole.

Sheridan asked the questions. 

The warrior said, “My rifle was taken away because I did not deserve it. And I had been made to fast for a week as part of my penance. When my time of spiritual reflection is over, I will be given back my weapon and welcomed back into my unit. I just couldn’t take being hungry anymore and had to have some food.”

Cole said, “I’m not sure I believe everything he’s saying, but one thing is for sure. He may be a religious fanatic, but he knows fear. His hesitation in combat is a sure sign that they’re not all willing to needlessly throw their lives away.”

“I doubt we could learn anything of value from him. He’s probably just some foot soldier from a Kurgan infantry regiment and doesn’t know anything other than what his officer tells him.”

Cole looked down. “What do you want to do with him? We can’t let him go back to his own lines. He’s hungry, tired, and scared, but you’ve spoken their language to him. Regardless of the punishment he’ll face for leaving his post, you know that he’ll report this incident to his superiors.”

“I know,” replied Sheridan, letting out a weary sigh.

“Give him the food in your hand.”

Sheridan tossed the warrior the tube of paste. “Well, I’m not for tying him up and walking away. That didn’t work out so well last time.”

“Sir, if you’re thinking what I believe you are, we’ve had this conversation before.” Before Sheridan could say a word, Cole stepped forward and fired his pistol twice, instantly killing the soldier as he ate his meal. His body tumbled over onto the ground. Blood trickled out from underneath the body.

“Jesus, Sergeant, why the hell did you do that?” Sheridan demanded.

“Because you can’t,” Cole replied coldly. “You’re a good man. I won’t let you soil your hands by killing a prisoner in cold blood.”

“But you can?”

Cole didn’t answer the question. Instead, he grabbed the dead soldier by his collar and dragged his body into the woods. He returned a minute later, kicking fresh snow over the top of the long red streak of blood that led away from their fire. Without making eye contact with Sheridan, Cole kicked out their fire. “We can’t stay here. They may come looking for the deserter. We need to put some distance between ourselves and the body.”

Sheridan was conflicted. He would have done the same thing. The Chosen couldn’t be allowed to live. Why Cole had taken upon himself to kill the man gnawed at Sheridan. He was the officer; the responsibility should have been his. Clenching his jaw tightly, Sheridan decided to let it go for now. It wouldn’t help them to argue over the death of the soldier. It was, however, a conversation he intended to have with Cole when the mission was over.

After trudging through the snow for another ten kilometers, Sheridan was about to tell Cole that they should take a break when he heard someone speaking English over a loud speaker. Cole heard it too and pointed at a small hill. Both men ran to the mound and carefully crawled up to the top so they could see what was going on.

“What the hell?” muttered Sheridan when he looked out onto an open field and saw several dozen men in filthy and torn clothing being addressed by a Chosen warrior. A platoon of Chosen guarded the prisoners, their weapons at the ready in their hands.

“Those are Marines,” Cole said.

The words of the Chosen soldier were clear and easy to hear from their hiding spot. “This is your last chance. Don’t be fooled by the lies your officers told you. You can’t win this war, not while your political leaders safe on Earth use you as cannon fodder. You all deserve better. Join the Kurgan Empire as willing volunteers and you can serve the Lord by spreading his word throughout the galaxy.”

“Get stuffed!” defiantly called out one of the Marines.

“Yeah, like he said,” added another.

“Men, it doesn’t have to end this way. Please, think of your families. Join us,” implored the Chosen soldier.

“Never,” yelled one of the prisoners.

“Fine, have it your way,” replied the Chosen warrior. He stepped back, raised his hand and then quickly lowered it. The sound of automatic weapons firing cut through the air. In seconds, it was over. All of the prisoners lay on the frozen ground. Steam escaped into the frigid air from the holes shot into their bodies.

Sheridan watched as the Chosen warrior walked among the dead killing the wounded with a single shot to the head. He had seen enough. He backed off the hill and swore revenge. 

Cole moved over to Sheridan’s side. “This nightmare can’t end soon enough. Come on, sir, we should keep moving.”

Sheridan nodded and began to follow in Cole’s tracks through the woods. He shared Cole’s sentiments that he wanted this to end, but not before he had killed as many Chosen as he could. 

Chapter 39

With a loud whoop, Lloyd ran out onto the flight deck to welcome the rest of the squadron’s newly arrived pilots and navigators. Tarina and Wendy quickly joined in the festive greeting. They traded stories over a late supper before proceeding back to the hangar.

Colonel Wright was waiting for them. “Okay, everyone, settle down. I’m just as happy to see you too, but we’ve got work to do and not a lot of time to get it done.” A 3D holographic image of Derra-5 and the Kurgan Fleet appeared in front of the young officers. “Folks, in precisely twenty-eight hours this is where we will be going. We have been tasked by Sixth Fleet to be the first ships in the invasion armada to engage the enemy above Derra-5.”

A captain with a puzzled look on his face said, “Sir, we’re a reconnaissance unit. Our ships aren’t configured for combat. You said so yourself, back on Earth.”

“All true, Ryan; however, we won’t be jumping in to duke it out with the enemy. We are going to deliver several high yield electromagnetic pulse bombs near the enemy’s carriers and destroyers. If successful, these vessels will be knocked out of commission, floating helplessly in space, just as our own carriers arrive in orbit. We’ve already proven that you can jump with a payload attached to the undercarriage of an Avenger, so this should be a relatively easy assignment.”

Major Fareed said, “Surely, Colonel, their ships will be shielded against an EMP attack.”

Wright smiled. “They probably are. However, these experimental EMP bombs are five times more powerful than anything that existed in our fleet’s arsenal when the war began. I have been assured that they will be able to cripple the enemy’s ships once they are activated. To make sure that we put them out of commission, we will be placing two bombs per carrier and one per warship. That makes for a total of seven Avengers that will be used in this attack.”

Fareed said, “Sir, we could only bring eight ships with us. The other four developed engine problems and were still being worked on when we left Earth.”

“It’ll have to do,” replied Wright. “It at least gives us a spare, should one of the other craft develop a technical problem between now and the time we jump. For the new arrivals, I expect you to review the reports written by your colleagues. Don’t be afraid to lean on them for advice.” Wright turned off the image of Derra-5. He stepped forward and locked his steely gaze on his people. “Folks, we’re only going to get one chance to do this. If we don’t succeed, there’s a good chance that the Sixth Fleet may not be able to sweep the enemy away from the planet when the landing craft packed with Marines and their equipment arrive. Just so we’re all on the same sheet of music. I don’t intend to fail . . . and neither do you!”

Light years away, Admiral Sheridan sat in his command chair and listened to the reports as they came in. One by one, the ships reported their readiness. When General Denisov said that his Marines were tired of being cooped up in their landing craft and were ready to kick some ass, Admiral Sheridan knew that it was time. He turned to his operations officer, “Captain, give the order for the fleet to make the jump.”

 Calculated down to the last second, the ships under his command would arrive in three successive waves ready to do battle with the enemy. If Colonel Wright and his people failed, he felt that he could still drive the Kurgans away from the planet long enough for the Marines to make it down to the surface. After that, he couldn’t guarantee a thing. It was going to be desperate and close in battle in which the individual ship’s captains had more control over the action than he ever would. He had given his orders, now it was up to the people under his command to execute those orders.

“The first strike force is making the jump,” announced Captain Killam.

“Please let me know when the last ship has jumped,” Admiral Sheridan replied.

A couple of seconds later, his vessel, the command ship of the second strike force, engaged its jump engine and began the flight to Derra-5.

Admiral Sheridan stood up and moved over to the screen showing a tactical display of the Sixth Fleet’s movement. Excluding General Denisov’s Marines, who would be arriving one hour after the first ships arrived over Derra-5, all of Sixth Fleet was preparing for battle.

“Sir, they’re all away,” reported Killam.

Admiral Sheridan nodded. He looked into the faces of the experienced officers and chiefs who made up his staff. “Well, it’s out of our hands now. When we come out of our jump, we’ll either be facing two crippled carriers or two enemy carriers ready for battle. Either way, I know that every man and woman in the fleet knows their job and will