Shock Waves

By Richard Turner

In the final chapter of the highly popular Kurgan War series, bitter foes are forced to work together to defeat a new enemy that threatens to overwhelm and destroy both species. With time running out, Michael Sheridan, and Alan Cole venture deep into Kurgan history and mysticism to find a way to halt the Thlazians before all is lost.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Richard Turner
• Release date: Jun 20, 2019
• ISBN: 9780463899755

Richard Turner

Richard Turner proudly served his country for more than thirty years, all across the globe.He wanted to try something new and now spends his time writing.I am an avid reader and especially like reading all about history. Some of my favourite authors include: James Rollins, Andy McDermmott and the many novels of Clive Cussler.

Book preview

The comms speaker inside the shuttle bay burst to life.

"Sierra One, this is Sierra One-Three, contact – wait out!"

"Contact – grid 1439822426, enemy detachment dug in on the ridgeline, am engaging."

"Sierra One-Three, this is Sierra One, send sitrep, over."

"Sierra One-Three, my lead squad is bogged down under heavy enemy fire. I’m attempting to flank enemy position but have located an enemy minefield protected by sentry guns running for at least one kilometer around their western flank, over."

"Sierra One, understood. Keep pushing forward. I will attempt to push Sierra One-Two to the east of your location, over."

"Sierra One-Three, acknowledged, over."

"Sierra One-Two, moving now, over."

"Sierra One, roger out."

Everyone in the bay stood anxiously waiting to hear the next message.

"Sierra Four, this is Sierra Two-Alpha requesting immediate medivac."

"Sierra Four, roger, send, over."

"Sierra Two-Alpha, wait."

"Sierra Two-Alpha, Line one: Grid 6009583458."

"Line two: Frequency seven-alpha-secure."

"Line Three: Four critical and three routine casualties."

"Line Four: No special equipment required."

"Line Five: Three casualties are ambulatory; the remainder require support."

"Sierra Four, roger, dustoff shuttle has been dispatched to your location."

"Sierra Two-Alpha, thanks, out."

The sound of automatic gunfire mixed with the desperate calls of wounded and dying soldiers filled the air until the transmission abruptly ended.

Michael Sheridan listened to the rush of incoming radio reports and clenched his jaw tight until it hurt. His two lead companies were in contact with the enemy, and he was stuck in orbit waiting for the go-ahead to deploy from the operations team onboard a decrepit Kurgan troop transporter. He smashed his hand against the wall and cursed. Leaders have to lead, not listen to the battle over the radio.

Perhaps they’ll let us drop in the next few minutes, sir, said Sergeant Major Kulikov, Sheridan’s new senior NCO advisor, in a clear attempt to try to calm his boss.

Sergeant Major, there may not be anything left for us to command down there in the next few minutes, replied Sheridan tersely. This is the third time this month that this second-rate crew of drunkards has screwed up our deployment schedule, and each time it has cost us dearly in men and material.

I’ll give the ops room another call and see what the holdup is, said Kulikov, reaching for a comms device.

I’ll tell you what it is, said Sheridan under his breath. It’s another bloody massacre in the making.

I’m on hold, sir, reported Kulikov.

Figures, muttered Sheridan as he looked over at the holographic image projected in the air of his unit’s landing zone. His blood began to boil. Blue icons inched across a map of the battlefield, trying to close with the Thlazians, shown in red. Already one-third of his soldiers were marked as dead or wounded. By the time he landed with the rest of the battalion, he doubted there’d be a soul left alive.

Sir, we’ve been given the green light to deploy, reported Kulikov, taking his seat.

We should have been in the first wave, not the last, groused Sheridan, sliding down onto his chair.

Yes, sir. I’ll speak with the XO and make sure this never happens again.

The light in the landing shuttle switched from normal to red lighting. A display on the wall counted down from five.

Sheridan popped his mouthguard in and clenched down, hard.

On one, the shuttle detached from the side of the transport ship and activated its engines. With a burst of power, the shuttle, along with thirty more craft, sped toward the planet below them. In moments, the ship began to rock from side to side as it flew through the outer atmosphere.

Sheridan fixed his deep green eyes on the screen above his seat. A wave of Kurgan missiles shot past the incoming wave of dropships and impacted on the planet’s rocky surface, hopefully clearing out any pockets of enemy resistance waiting for them on the LZ. A timer next to the screen showed the time to landing, currently reading 2:47. Each second that ticked by was an eternity to Sheridan, as they were at their most vulnerable during the deployment phase. A single, well-placed ground-to-air missile team could easily pick them off one by one, long before they reached the surface. Sheridan couldn’t wait to get his feet on the ground.

Warning, incoming missiles, boomed the ship’s computer.

The shuttle’s pilot immediately fired off a barrage of super-heated countermeasures and banked over to the right.

Sheridan gripped his seat’s armrests tight and held on as the ship bobbed and weaved through the sky, desperate to evade the enemy’s missiles. Christ, no, thought Sheridan, as six of his craft disappeared from the screen.

Hang on back there, we’re coming down hard on a hot LZ, reported the co-pilot over the intercom.

Sheridan turned his head and looked out the window. It was difficult to see anything, as most of the ground was covered in smoke and burning debris.

Brace, brace, brace, ordered the co-pilot.

Sheridan locked his feet together and held on tight to his seat harness as the craft came in for a rough landing. He took in a deep breath and closed his eyes. If he was going to die, the last thing he wanted to see was an image of Tarina in his mind.

With a bone-shattering crunch, the landing craft smashed into the ground, severing off its forward landing strut, sending it tumbling over on its right side. Inside the troop compartment, men and women cried out in terror and fear as the shuttle was torn open by the jagged rocks littering the LZ. Sheridan watched helplessly as one of his Fire Support Officers’ chairs broke free and hurtled out a deep gash in the fuselage, taking its occupant with it. With an ear-splitting crunch, the ship smashed into the back of another shuttle, stopping it dead.

Sheridan shook his head and rushed to unbuckle himself from his chair. He spat out his mouthguard, grabbed hold of his assault rifle, and looked around the shattered compartment. Of the thirty people who had made the jump with him, Sheridan could only see seven, three of whom were badly injured. Sergeant Major Kulikov was nowhere to be seen.

Sir, what are we going to do? asked Sheridan’s young communicator, throwing her radio on her back.

We sure as hell can’t stay here, he replied. I’ve got to establish control over my unit before anything else goes wrong.

What about the wounded?

They’re on their own, Williams. Hopefully, some of our medical teams survived the drop and can look after them.

A man nearby unbuckled himself and stood. He weaved back and forth for a few seconds before dropping to his knees and emptying his guts all over the floor.

Sheridan patted the man on the back. Are you okay, Lieutenant Farid?

Farid nodded as he wiped the spittle away from his mouth.

You’re going to need these, said Sheridan, handing Farid a radio and his rifle.

Thanks, sir, replied the only surviving Fire Effects Officer.

Okay then, let’s go, said Sheridan, stepping through a wide opening in the hull. The nauseating stench of burnt flesh and shuttle fuel hung heavy in the air. Sheridan brought up his binoculars and surveyed the enemy-held ridge about a kilometer from their location. His forces looked like bright blue ghosts, clawing their way up the jagged rocks to get to the enemy.

Sir, I’ve got the ops center for you, said Williams, handing Sheridan a handset.

Sheridan keyed the mic. Sierra Six-Alpha, this is Sierra Six, report.

"Sierra Six-Alpha, roger." Alan Cole’s British accent came on strong. Casualties from the two lead companies are approaching fifty percent. A quarter of Sierra-Three was destroyed in the air, and most of support company’s assets are strewn about the LZ.

Sheridan swore. Sierra Six, any good news for me?

"Sierra Six-Alpha, that was the good news. The bad news is the enemy has seen our losses and is preparing to counterattack. I’ll keep throwing what I can at them, but it won’t be long before the Thlazians are all over us."

The muscles in Sheridan’s neck tightened. Sierra Six, understood. Sierra One and Two, this is Sierra Six, go firm where you are and standby for enemy countermoves. Sierra Three, you’ll be responsible to hold the LZ. If it gets overrun, we’ve got no way off this rock. Acknowledge, over.

"Sierra Three, will do, over."

Sierra Six, I’m on my way to linkup with Sierra Six-Alpha at the TOC, out.

Sheridan looked into the faces of the two soldiers with him and saw hesitation. Neither of them had seen any combat during the last war. They’d volunteered to serve with Sheridan to fight the Thlazians before they invaded Earth’s outer planets. He’d seen that look before, years ago, when he first fought the Kurgans.

Okay, listen up, said Sheridan. We’re going to take off running. Spread out, but don’t fall behind. Got it?

Farid meekly nodded while Williams gave him a thumbs-up.

Sheridan took one last check of his body armor and tactical vest to make sure everything was as snug as it could be. Let’s go.

As one, the three soldiers sprinted toward the flames. Right away, they began to pass dead bodies lying on the ground. Some looked like they were peacefully sleeping, while others were contorted in pain. Wounded soldiers cried out for help or water. Hopelessly overworked medics ran to and fro, trying to help the injured.

A buzzer went off in Sheridan’s helmet, warning him of incoming enemy fire. Down! he yelled. A split second later, a volley of Thlazian mortar bombs pummeled the area around him. Dirt, rocks, and a couple of hapless soldiers were thrown skyward by the blasts.

A sharp pain radiated up Sheridan’s leg. He looked back and grimaced. A piece of shrapnel had dug a bloody groove through the back of his left leg. Sheridan rolled over, ripped open a field dressing, and wrapped it around his wound.

Sir, called out Williams.

Sheridan saw the young communicator kneeling over Farid as she struggled to apply a dressing to a severed arm.

Medic! hollered Sheridan as he ran to help.

Farid’s face was turning gray. He moaned and struggled to remain still while Williams tried to staunch the bleeding.

Sheridan flipped open Farid’s personal medical pouch and pulled out a slender, silver syringe filled with a concoction of painkillers. He placed the injector on Farid’s neck and activated the device. Right away, the injured man relaxed.

I’ll take over, said a medic, pushing both Sheridan and Williams aside so she could better deal with the patient.

Williams tied off her dressing and wiped her blood-soaked hands in the dirt. Sir, he’s lost a lot of blood. I don’t think he’s going to make it.

You did everything you could, replied Sheridan. Now help me get his radio onto my back.

They gently removed Farid’s radio and slung it over Sheridan’s back. This way, he said, running as best he could through the maelstrom of battle.

A hole in the ground with a dozen antennae sticking out of it marked Cole’s position and the TOC. He and Williams slid down into the makeshift command center. Wounded officers and soldiers covered the floor. It was nearly impossible to move anywhere without stepping on someone.

Morning, boss, said Cole, holding out his hand in greeting.

I’m sure we’ve seen better in our days, replied Sheridan, shaking his friend’s hand. He took a quick look around the crowded post. Where’s Major Hart?

The S3 and most of his battle staff never made it off their shuttle. I’m doing his job now.

How bad is it, Alan?

Cole wiped the dirt and grime from his face and picked up a tablet with the unit’s disposition on it. I’ll get right to the point; we and our flanking Kurgan battalions have dropped right into a hornet’s nest and are being slowly ripped apart. The enemy must have anticipated this move and dug in deep along the ridgeline. Our preliminary bombardments from space did little to them. Once we landed, they came out of their tunnels and proceeded to give us a bloody nose.

Sheridan studied the map. The Kurgan divisional commander had dropped all three battalions in a horseshoe-shaped landing zone. Pinned down by accurate Thlazian fire, they were stuck inside a cauldron with little hope of escape.

I know you argued with General Kizer against this drop site, said Cole, but we’re here, and there’s not much we can do about it right now.

Do we have any drones left in the air? asked Sheridan.

None. The only intel we’re getting is from the cruisers in orbit, and that’s become spotty, as the Thlazians keep jamming our frequencies.

Counter-mortar fire?

We have one det left, and it’s getting low on ammo. Right now, I’ve got it covering the TOC.

The ground shook as Thlazian artillery shells blasted the landing zone, trying to cripple or destroy any remaining craft still operational.

Sheridan looked at his friend. Thoughts?

There’s no hiding the fact that we’ve lost this engagement, said Cole. We need to hold the line for as long as possible while we work out some kind of evac plan with divisional headquarters.

Sheridan nodded. I’ll make my way forward to A and B Companies while you hold down the fort from here. If you can bring enough fire down from orbit on the Thlazians, they may break off the fight and let us withdraw.

Major Cole, our Kurgan liaison officer just died, reported a soldier covered in dirt and blood.

Well, there goes any chance of passing info onto the fleet in a timely manner, observed Cole.

You should have kept up your Kurgan language skills after you resigned, quipped Sheridan dryly.

Cole chuffed. With Wendy around me day and night that would have been a death sentence.

Well, old man, do what you can. I’ve got to get forward.

Cole punched Sheridan on the shoulder. Keep your head down, and I’ll see you on the last shuttle out of here.

Hold two seats, said Sheridan, smiling at Williams.

Major, I’ve got feed from the Kurgans coming in, said a soldier, passing off his tablet to Cole.

What’s up? asked Sheridan.

Cole turned the computer. The display indicated masses of red icons heading their way.

Sheridan’s guts knotted. If the Kurgan ships high above them couldn’t slow the enemy down, his command was doomed. He tightened up his helmet and made his way out of the TOC. Ready? he asked Williams.

I’m ready, sir, she responded.

Time to earn our pay, said Sheridan, running in short spurts toward a rocky outcropping at the base of the ridge.

This way, Colonel, said Master Sergeant Nolan, the most senior NCO of A Company, waving them toward his casualty collection point. Sheridan couldn’t help but notice that there were far more dead than wounded soldiers spread out on the dirt.

Good day to you, Master Sergeant. Where’s Captain Hoon’s command post?

Nolan pointed at a poncho-covered body. Hoon’s dead, sir. Second Lieutenant Jasper is in command of the company.

Jasper was a junior platoon leader. For him to be in charge meant that three more senior officers had to be dead.

Right, where is he? asked Sheridan.

Nolan pointed up a dirt path. He’s about eighty meters that way.

Thanks, and get your people ready to move when I give the order.

Are we leaving, sir?

Yes, we are. Now see to your people, Master Sergeant.

Right, sir.

Sheridan wound his way toward the company command post, making way when he had to for the stream of badly wounded soldiers heading for the casualty collection point. He found Second Lieutenant Jasper huddled over a map, trying to call in artillery fire.

Mister Jasper, report, said Sheridan.

Jasper looked up. His brown eyes were glazed over. His hands shook uncontrollably.

Sheridan knelt next to Jasper and looked him in the eyes. Jasper, calm down and tell me how things are going.

Sir, I’ll get onto the TOC and get some fire brought down, said Williams.

Thanks, Corporal, responded Sheridan.

Jim, what’s your status? Sheridan asked Jasper.

We’re down to thirty-five, all ranks, muttered Jasper. "Everyone else is dead or wounded.

Can you hold this part of the line?

I don’t know.

Sheridan grabbed Jasper by the shoulders and shook him. Mister Jasper, you have to hold. If you don’t, the Thlazians are going to come straight through what’s left of you and massacre everyone in the unit. Do you understand what I’m saying?

Hold…yes, we can do that.

I’m going to set up my command post right here; however, I need you to move forward and take charge of what’s left of your company. You can’t lead it from back here.

Jasper nodded and placed his helmet back on his head. He left the post, dragging his feet as if they were made of lead.

The rumble of artillery shells pounding the other side of the ridge told Sheridan that Williams had a grip on the situation. He waited for Jasper to disappear from sight before hauling out a slender tablet from a pouch and activating it. On the screen, a wave of red icons rushed relentlessly at their position.

Sheridan keyed his personal radio. Sierra Six-Alpha, send sitrep, over.

"Sierra Six-Alpha, roger. I have coordinated an incoming missile barrage from three Kurgan cruisers. Once the missiles strike, a wave of recovery ships will land in the LZ to begin our evacuation. I recommend that Sierra One and Two withdraw simultaneously through Sierra Three’s location, over."

The plan was simple and practical. Sierra Six, sounds good. It would also be advisable to have some fighter bombers available to hit the Thlazians as we consolidate on the LZ, over.

"Sierra Six-Alpha, they’re already on their way down, over."

Sheridan grinned. He knew his friend would have thought of everything. Sierra Six, pass the word to begin the withdrawal on your command, I’ll stay here with Sierra One until the last moment. Sierra-Six, out.

So, what do you think of your first battle, Corporal? Sheridan asked Williams.

It’s all so confusing and scary, she replied. I had no idea it would be like this.

Neither did I the first time I fought the Kurgans. I lost most of my platoon during the first engagement I ever fought. Same goes for the one and only time I ever got to command a company of Marines. Ever since that date, I’ve basically been fighting alongside Kurgan rebel and government forces.

Sir, does it ever bother you to think that some of the Kurgans we’re fighting with could have committed horrible war crimes against our people?

Not really.

Why not?

Because most of them are dead. And besides, the Kurgans in power now aren’t the same ones who led their people to war. I’ve seen what the Thlazians aim to do with the Kurgans and us, so it’s better we fight them out here with the Kurgs, and not back on Earth.

Cole’s voice coming through their headsets ended their conversation. All stations, this is Sierra Six-Alpha. ETA for incoming Kurgan missile strike is three-zero seconds. Be prepared to withdraw to the LZ on my command.

So that’s it, thought Sheridan. What should have been the beginning of a ten-day-long campaign to root out Thlazian forces on a supposedly poorly defended planetoid had barely lasted two hours and ended in ignominious defeat.

Williams crouched as low as she could in the shelter as dozens of long, red streaks shot down from the leaden sky. The ground heaved as the missiles struck home, ripping apart the masses of Thlazian forces on the other side of the hill. Dust soon filled

Reviews for Shock Waves

[thomas rea · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

Great 10 book series from beginning to end with lots of suspense