"Thank you, sir," Sheridan replied, unsure where the conversation was heading.

"How's Staff Sergeant Cole doing?" asked the sergeant major.

"Fine, Sergeant Major. I doubt I'd be alive if it weren't for him."

The old soldier smiled.

Gruber placed his hands on his table and looked into Sheridan's eyes. "Son, it's because of young people like yourself that we're still in the fight. I don't mind telling you that it's nothing short of a miracle that we've lasted this long. If we're going to keep fighting, I need to know what the enemy is planning to do so I can match his strength with mine when he attacks us again. With the d.a.m.ned Kurgans still jamming all of our radio and sensor equipment, I'm blinder than a bat."

Sheridan nodded, even more confused than when he walked in the room.

Gruber continued. "Son, Sergeant Major Trang and I have been discussing this and we both believe that we need someone with experience to go outside of the capital and take a look around. Our lines have held to date, but they are very thin lines. All it would take is a concerted effort in one location by the enemy and they'd easily breach the line and overrun the city before we could stop them."

"Sir, what about the divisional reconnaissance battalion?" asked Sheridan.

"Son, we're a division in name only. I never got one when they rushed whatever they could here to Derra-5. I wish I had one, but I don't. I re-read your initial report and saw that you speak and understand Kurgan; that's gonna help you when you go outside."

"Me, sir?"

"Yeah, you, son. I need to know what is going on out there and as far as I'm concerned, you're my man."

The enormity of what was being asked of him weighed on Sheridan. He felt as if he were going to be sick.

"You can't do this on your own, sir. Can you think of anyone you would like to take with you?" asked the sergeant major, steering the conversation along.

Sheridan sat straight up. "Sergeant Major, I can think of three people who would be ideal, two of whom have already been outside the city."

Gruber said, "Give the names to the sergeant major, he'll make sure that they're brought to you. The clock is ticking, son, can you think of anything else you might need?"

Sheridan's mind was a whirl. He had a million questions. "Sir, is the black-marketer we detained available for questioning?"

Sergeant Major Trang nodded. "I'll get the MPs to bring him to you ASAP."

"Anything else?" prodded Gruber.

"Not right now, sir," replied Sheridan.

"Very good. I won't keep you from your a.s.signment. Your point of contact from here on out will be the divisional intelligence officer."

"Yes, sir." Sheridan cringed. The officer had all but accused Sheridan of lying when he presented his report to the general.

Gruber smiled. "I saw that flicker of hesitation in your eyes, Mister Sheridan. Don't worry, Lieutenant Colonel Donaldson is a changed man. You'll find him much more receptive to your ideas now that we've been attacked."

Sheridan wished that he had not been so transparent.

Gruber stood, as did Sheridan. He held out his hand and Sheridan shook it. "Before you go, there are two things I need to do. First off, I would like to thank you for keeping PO Tartov alive. He's been working his a.s.s off night and day going through our computers. So far, he has identified two suspicious transmissions sent before the Kurgan invasion. One, I hate to say, was from a member of my staff. The other was from a high-ranking civilian who worked in the capital's administrative offices. Both men have been arrested."

Sheridan had originally had his doubts, but it seemed that Tartov had been telling the truth after all.

Gruber cleared his throat. Sergeant Major Trang stepped forward and handed Gruber a small box. He opened it and then gave it to Sheridan. Inside were a set of silver bars. "Congrats, on your promotion to first lieutenant," said Gruber as he firmly shook Sheridan's hand. "Keep this up, and you'll replace me by the end of the month."

Sheridan smiled. "Thank you for the promotion, sir."

"You earned it. Now, son, get me that information."

Ninety minutes pa.s.sed before the black-marketer arrived. In a quiet corner of the headquarters, Sheridan and Cole sat behind a desk. A pair of gruff-looking MPs brought in the man. He was wearing handcuffs. By the surprised look on his face, Sheridan could tell that he had not expected to see Sheridan or any of his people alive.

"Remove his cuffs," ordered Sheridan. The MPs obliged and then waited outside of the room.

Sheridan looked down at his notes for a second before fixing his eyes on the man seated in front of him. The profiteer had long scraggly brown hair. His clothes were filthy. Sheridan knew that water was a scarce commodity in the city. He doubted that the prisoners got more than drinking water on a daily basis. "Mister Leon, let me reintroduce myself. My name is First Lieutenant Sheridan, and according to the Provost Marshal, you are facing at least twenty years in jail for your crimes. That is, of course, if we manage to hold onto the capital. If not, then you are going to die at the hands of the Chosen when they take what's left of the city. Since the idea of wasting away in jail or dying at the hands of your enemies is not something I bet you relish, I have a small proposal to make."

"Go on," said Leon as he rubbed his sore wrists.

"In return for your cooperation, the Provost Marshal is willing to adjust the time you will have to serve in jail."

"By how much?"

Sheridan dug into a jacket pocket and placed a piece of paper down on the table in front of Leon. "If you get me everything on this list, she'll reduce your sentence to one year."

Leon picked up the note, read it and let out a derisive snicker. "You have to be kidding me. All of this stuff is military gear. How do you expect me to obtain it? Why don't you ask your own people for this equipment?"

"I did. All of the gear is listed as stolen. I wonder who could have taken it?" said Sheridan as he looked over at Leon.

"I want to be set free. If I get my hands on all of this equipment, I don't want to spend another day back in jail."

"Guards, take the prisoner back to his cell!" Cole yelled out.

The door swung open.

"No, wait. I'll do what you say," said Leon, his voice filled with panic.

"As you were," Cole said to the MPs.

Sheridan leaned forward and said, "Now, just to make sure that you live up to your end of the deal, Staff Sergeant Cole and Private Roberts will be going with you. I expect the three of you back here by last light. If you so much as look sideways or give Sergeant Cole any guff, he's going to make you wish you were back in your cell."

Leon looked over at Cole. The look in his eyes told Leon that he was not a man you wanted to anger. A cold shiver ran down his spine. "There's no need for threats. I already told that I'll do whatever you say."

"Great, one last thing, though."

"What might that be?" Leon asked.

"I'm willing to bet you know more about the tunnels running under the city than anyone else still left alive. So tonight when my colleagues and I head out, you and your two new best friends from the MPs will be coming with us."

Leon's face turned white.

"Thanks for your cooperation," said Sheridan with a smile.

Chapter 27.

Colonel Wright pursed his lips as he read and re-read his orders. For a minute, he thought about disobeying them, but he knew better. It would not serve his unit to have him in the stockade. He pressed a b.u.t.ton on his desk and spoke into the ship's speaker system. "Flight Crew Bravo, this is Colonel Wright, please report to my office right away."

A minute later, there was a knock on the door.

"Please come in," said Wright.

The doors slid open. Tarina and Wendy stood there wearing their gym clothes and were covered in sweat.

"Ladies, please take a seat," said Wright as he opened his fridge, grabbed two bottles of cold water and handed them to the women.

"Thanks," said the young officers in unison.

"Running?"

"No, sir, we were sparring," responded Tarina.

"I was about to win when you called, sir," announced Wendy.

Tarina laughed. "In a pig's eye you were."

Wright grinned, sat down and turned his computer console around so the women could see his orders. "Ladies, I've been ordered to dispatch a ship to Derra-5 in order to gather real-time intelligence on what is happening on the ground. As you can see, I have been ordered not to go myself. My superiors have deemed this mission as highly dangerous. They do not feel that I should risk going myself. To quote the last line: 'I have duties and responsibilities to the Corps that preclude me from this a.s.signment'."

Tarina could tell that the words were like a personal insult thrown in Wright's face. He had always gone first and shared the risks with his people. To be told to stay back was tearing him up inside. "Sir, what would you like us to do?" asked Tarina.

"Yeah, sir, you've got to let us have some fun without adult supervision from time to time," added Wendy.

If there were two people who could pull it off, Wright knew it was the women sitting across from him. "Ok then, what I need you to do is study everything you can about the capital and pick a landing zone as far away from the enemy as you can. You're going to have to calculate your jump from here to a location inside Derra-5's atmosphere. Give yourself time to start your sub-light engine or you'll smash into the ground like a falling rock and be killed on impact."

Wendy smiled. "Piece of cake. I can have my calculations for your review within the hour, sir."

Wright continued. "When you land, you're going to need to gather as much information as you can from the defenders and then get the h.e.l.l out of there before the enemy gets wise and sends a drone to blast your ship into a million pieces."

"You can count on us, sir," Tarina said confidently. If Wendy's calculations were precise, she knew that she could land her Avenger on a dime if need be.

Wright stood. "I shan't keep you from your pre-mission calculations. I'll come join you in one hour's time. You can back brief me on your plan at that time. Dismissed."

Tarina and Wendy stood up, turned about and left Wright's office.

"Have you ever calculated a jump from s.p.a.ce into a planet's atmosphere before?" Tarina asked Wendy.

She shook her head. "How hard can it be? There has to be a first time for everything. Come on, we've got to find us a good map of the city. We don't want to come out of our jump right into the middle of a skysc.r.a.per, now do we?"

Colonel Wright found the women in the hangar bay double-checking Wendy's calculations. Instead of a computer, Wendy had grabbed a marker pen and written all over the side of a wall so she could see her work from beginning to end. Wright stood behind the women and looked over the math. He was an accomplished pilot, but her calculations left him wondering if he had missed something at the academy.

Wendy stopped what she was doing and looked over at the colonel. "Does this look right, sir?"

"Does it look right to you?" Wright asked Tarina.

"Yeah, it should work, Colonel," replied Tarina.

"Then it looks right to me," said Wright. "When do you plan to go?"

"Sir, we want to land at night, so we were planning on commencing our pre-flight checks around 2200 and jumping at 2300 hours local time," explained Tarina. "Ideally, we should be able to get what fleet needs and be out of there in under a couple of hours."

Wright nodded his head. Her plan made sense. "I've ordered the technicians to ensure that your bird is as full as they can make it with fuel. I'd hate to lose you because you ran out of gas."

"We'd hate that too," replied Wendy.

"Well, it looks like you have it all in hand. I'll meet you back here in a few hours' time." Wright smiled at the women and then left them to get on with their work. A nagging feeling in his stomach told him that if this worked that it was not the last mission that they would be launching to Derra-5. There was only one thing he could do now, and that was to ask his superiors to send the rest of his squadron to him as soon as possible so the risk could be shared by all.

Chapter 28.

Sheridan shone his light down a dark and wet tunnel. "All clear," he reported as he climbed down inside.

"I hate places like this," said Garcia.

"At least no one is shooting at us," said Roberts as he helped Tammy down.

"Not yet," threw in Cole.

"I could have left you all on the bridge, you know," said Sheridan to his teammates.

"I take it all back," quickly responded Garcia. The image of the collapsed house resting on top of her head made her shudder.

"Which way?" Sheridan asked Leon.

"Straight ahead and then take the first left. It will take you to a grate that opens out near the river," explained Leon, sounding like he wished was somewhere other than back in the cold, damp tunnels with a bunch of soldiers.

Sheridan led off. Cole had returned with everything on their list, from pistols with silencers built into the barrel to ultra-lightweight ceramic knives to fresh sets of liquid body armor. Leon had reluctantly surrendered a vast horde of critical supplies to the Marines. Garcia had managed to round up some warm, but dirty civilian clothing for everyone to wear. Clean clothes would make them stand out among the refugees camped outside of the capital if they were even there anymore. When they were about fifty meters from the tunnel exit, Sheridan switched off his light plunging the tunnel into darkness. He waited a minute for his eyes to adjust to the dark before edging carefully to the metal grate. The ground under his feet was slick with ice. He reached into a pocket, brought out a small hand-held scanner, and checked the metal bars for explosives. With almost everything else electronic being jammed by the enemy, Sheridan prayed that the scanner would still work.

The screen read clear. It was safe to proceed...he hoped.

Sheridan looked over at Cole, who stepped forward with a long, narrow metal coil in his gloved hand. After examining the grate for a few seconds, Cole bent the metal into a U-shape. Slowly, he threaded the mechanism through the bars until it was looking above them. On a small screen, built into a wristband, Cole studied the ground above the tunnel. It was clear. He pulled in the viewing device, removed the monitor from his wrist and handed them off to one of the MPs accompanying them.

Sheridan turned around and looked at the senior MP, a sergeant. "Ok, it looks safe out there for now. Wait here for thirty minutes in case we suddenly return. If we don't, head back the way you came. We'll be back here at precisely the same time tomorrow evening. If we're not, wait for one hour in case we're late and then b.o.o.by-trap the tunnel as we're most likely never coming back."

"Yes, sir," replied the MP. "What about the prisoner?"