Retaliation (The Boris Chronicles Book 2) Page 7

  He had a fair idea of the why.

  He carefully raised his hands and kept them clear of any weapon. He couldn’t see any way it was one of the other teams. They had been dropped too far away to reach this area and set up an ambush, and likely one of them would have shown himself by now. They all had the same shoulder flashes and knew each other.

  “Whoever’s out there I’d appreciate a parley,” he said in a firm voice.

  “Why would we negotiate with soldiers from the same government that arrested fifty of us without cause and shot another twenty-five out of hand?” a voice replied coldly from the bushes.

  “Because the force that did that was illegal. We are legal border force troops of the Russian Federation. And we come bearing news of a danger to your justified fleeing of the country.”

  There was silence for over a minute. Then came the response out of the trees. “If that is the case, call the rest of your team forward and pile your weapons against the pine tree ten meters to your left. All of them, even your utility knives. Then all of you step back ten meters from the tree with your hands raised. We will take you to the man organizing the column. Hell, we’ll even feed you if none of you give us any trouble. Anyone who does cause a problem will be killed on the spot.”

  Evgeni gave the order to his troops. He just hoped that none of them decided that this was all a bad idea.

  *********************************************

  It was an hour and a half later when Evgeni was finally brought to Lev. Lev was a steel-haired man with obvious military experience. Probably one of the retired mercenaries from the town. There were supposedly about fifty of them from his briefing. Most of the Spetsnaz had shown contempt at the fact they were just mercenaries, but Evgeni was from the oblast. He knew some of the tales that were told about Boris and those he trained.

  He also knew that Boris refused to teach the Spetsnaz as many were too arrogant to learn from an outsider once they had been selected. They believed they were the best of the best, that was part of the esprit de corps, the mystique about them, that allowed them to be so good. But it also meant they felt contempt for those without similar training. They believed there was nothing they could learn from outside the units.

  Somehow this mercenary had figured out not only that his team was coming, but had managed to get a professional ambush laid against it before he should have known they were in the region. His scouts must be amazing. Evgeni would be happy to learn anything he could from them. Looking around, Evgeni didn’t expect any classes on scouting today.

  Lev was in the back of a truck with a paper map of the current area laid out on a table bolted to the bed, the map pinned to the table. He had three men who looked like they’d been out in the forest for days along with what looked to be his two top aides with him. Evgeni was pointedly put on the other side of the table. One of the aides had a pistol drawing a bead on his shoulder, finger off the trigger in case of a bump. It was clear what would happen to him should he behave aggressively here. Not that he planned to.

  Lev got straight to the point. “What is the threat you wish to inform us of? Has the Border Force mobilized against us? Our sources have confirmed that they are the only force that could possibly intercept us now that the NVG’s pursuit force is gone.”

  Evgeni was stunned. He had heard nothing of an additional force being sent after the column and only nebulous pieces about the NVG he had discarded as a rumor. He did not let it interrupt his briefing. “There are four other teams of Spetsnaz who, along with mine, were given orders to harass and delay your column. My team and I did not join the Border Force to kill Russian civilians. Criminals, yes. Citizens fleeing crimes against their people? No. I picked my men. Trained them. Any that did not meet my standard of personal integrity I wrote up and sent on their way.” He spoke with some pride and straightened his back to look squarely at the column commander.

  Over the next fifteen minutes, he gave detailed locations and proposed operations for each of the other four teams. He gave details on each of their commander’s personalities. He included any knowledge of how they ran their teams and any exceptionally skilled individuals in those groups. At the end of his short briefing the three who looked like scouts grunted and left the vehicle.

  “You know I have to treat you and yours as ‘guests’ in our convoy for the rest of our trip? I cannot endanger the lives of my people by letting you go. You will be with us to the Mongolian border,” Lev told the young Captain.

  He nodded. “Yes. Indeed we were hoping to defect to whoever was taking you in. None of us wish to continue to serve a government so corrupt someone in it would send troops to kill its own civilians that have been abused by an armed political faction.”

  Lev looked him straight in the eye as he said. “Be that as it may. They may agree to this. But while you travel with me your men will be separated into pairs, with six of my own guarding each pair. So long as none of you try to cause us trouble, you will camp together at night, with guards surrounding you. Nor will you get your weapons returned until after the border. I will not risk more than ten thousand lives for little discomfort from sixteen. You will also hand over all radios. Do you understand?”

  Evgeni only nodded. It was about what he expected. “Of course, sir. If you could let me explain it to my men?

  Lev nodded, and the aide with the pistol jumped off the truck with him. They were soon joined by two more armed men from the convoy.

  His team still had fifty armed men marching behind them. At least they hadn’t done anything stupid. They were being treated far better than could have been expected, as effective prisoners of war. Maybe defecting hadn’t been as stupid as he had sometimes thought. Maybe whomever these refugees were going to would be worth serving.

  **************************************************************

  Mikhail was glad he had been chosen to lead this pack. His kid cousin was one of those shot in cold blood. She had just been walking down the street to pick something up. Instead, she had gotten a bullet to the brain. After over a hundred years in Russia, he simply could not face another period of troubled time. Besides he could do more good working for this Czarina, he was sure, than he could by staying. Even though what Boris was doing was necessary for the Czarina, Mikhail’s heart would not have been in it.

  He could truly devote himself to a leader like her. The word was that she had a tendency, a preference even, to lead from the front. That was another thing that Mikhail could respect.

  So he made his choice and was one of the most senior among the Weres that were protecting the refugees. Hell, he had known most of the townspeople all his life. When Lev had asked him to be one of those who were to talk to a possible defector it had be more because he had a talent, though. It was not as reliable as some other methods, but it was far more subtle. He could usually smell when a person was lying. That officer had been nervous, even a little afraid, but he didn’t give off the sour odor of deception. As long as the column encountered actual Spetsnaz out here, the information was valid.

  The Spetsnaz drop points had seemed odd if the objective was only a simple delay. They were, however, perfect for a delay and cause casualties mission. That was what had sent Evgeni against those orders. He was one of the good officers, at least if his information was accurate. Seven packs of thirty had been sent out, and Mikhail’s had just hit a jackpot.

  He smelt the bastards moving no more than half a kilometer away. They generally smelled similar to the base odor of the officer to whom he had talked. Looked like it was time to make these attackers disappear.

  With quiet whines and yips, he communicated that the rest of the pack, other than his second, was to pair off and take a target. He and his second would take the lead and the back of the group, respectively. The attack was to start with either the first sign of aggression towards them or his snarl as he went for the lead.

  They crept up through the dripping foliage placing careful paws on the ground and staying low to
the ground. Humans were not the only ones that could do a belly crawl, Mikhail thought, his tongue lolling out of his mouth briefly in humor at the thought. It was so much easier creeping up on someone as a wolf.

  He found a position at seventy-five meters ahead of the enemy team. Settling into position and tensing his legs for the leap, he could feel his blood pounding as the excitement of the kill started to take hold. His target was not close enough yet. The Spetsnaz were moving cautiously and slowly in the misty rain. They knew that the refugees must be close. In truth, the column was only an hour or so behind where his pack now lay in ambush. If it were not for the rain, these men might be already setting up to sniper nests to kill his friends and neighbors.

  The Spetsnaz’ luck had just run into the error known as Things you cannot plan for.

  There was no way they could expect a pack of wolves (or werewolves) to deliberately ambush a group of sixteen humans. Mikhail had a very black and white view of things after a century. If they hadn’t defected to the refugees, they were the enemy. He’d seen too many soldiers who didn’t take their responsibility to protect civilians seriously enough. The fact that they were willing to delay or kill refugees was sufficient for him.

  With a snarl that shredded the dreary mist, Mikhail jumped for the lead man’s neck as he passed. The man turned impressively quickly, managing to get a burst of shooting off, but was too late to stop Mikhail’s jaws closing on his jugular. At the same moment that hot blood sprayed into his mouth, Mikhail felt the burn of two bullets creasing his leg. It didn’t matter as his mass toppled the dying man over to the ground. The wolf tore again at the man’s throat, and the soldier died in a gurgling sigh.

  Mikhail heard more snarls rip through the rainy night as the rest of the pack launched their attacks. Among the noises mingled shouts of confusion could be heard along with an occasional burst of rifle fire. A few screams of agony, finally followed by silence.

  Their part of this mission complete, the pack split and circled wide, scouting further ahead. If there were more Border Force troops out there, they needed to be found and neutralized, if possible. It was entirely plausible that their informant hadn’t known, or hadn’t told them everything. Best to make sure that there was not another little SNAFU ahead.

  *************************************************************

  Evgeni and his men had a sleepless night, four times waking to bursts of gunfire. They had all known that there were men in those groups who might have also defected given the chance. They also knew that it was the cruel calculus of war. Had they misjudged one man outside of their team and approached them, the team would, at best, have been broken up. At worst they would have been scattered to different prisons. The refugee column could have taken heavy losses. Civilian losses, good Russian lives. Lives that they were sworn to protect by their solemn oath.

  The bottom line balanced sixty-two lives against the thousands in the column. Trading so small a number against the potential death of many old people, women and children was a bargain. Even if some of them dead were friends.

  It was therefore of great surprise to them when a baker’s dozen of their comrades were dragged into their encampment by some of the column’s militia. Supplies to patch them up were provided. Some of their wounds were terrible. All of them were dog or wolf bites.

  Evgeni thought it very strange, as he could remember seeing few if any dogs with the column. At least not dogs that could cause such wounds. Perhaps they were all out with the scouts. Yes, that made sense. The scouts were probably skilled hunters and hunters often had their own dogs.

  He comforted himself with that as thoughts of humanity’s darker legends whispered to him in the back of his mind.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Command Container, Siberia, Russia.

  The attack on the column had complicated matters. Boris had decided to travel to confer with Lev, leaving Danislav, Janna, and Paul to co-ordinate operations. They had managed to identify several NVG bases of operations and had conducted spoiling raids to keep them on their toes. The captured heavy weapons were used here, to increase the evidence that it was Chechen irregulars that were responsible. It had left Janna with a problem, though since this interrupted her training with Boris. To adjust to the change, her training switched to a different form of battle, as the wolves that Danislav convinced to help him with her training attacked in numbers.

  Training against wolves for a werebear her size wasn’t challenging until the attackers numbered more than five. Then, especially with her inexperience, it became a whitewash for the wolves. They were experienced at working as a group, almost on an instinctive level. Her size became a disadvantage against that many. She couldn’t move fast enough to avoid getting hamstrung. Against that many, she couldn’t keep them from getting one of their team into position. From there on it was bad news. She usually managed to take out three before one reached her throat, but that was simply not good enough.

  So she had contacted Ecaterina. They had talked for a while about many things, including her pregnancy, baby and how happy it made her. Eventually, Janna brought up the Pricolici form.

  “I cannot shake the feeling that he is deliberately holding me back. I have encountered it before you know. Men who believe, somehow, that women need to be… restricted in their responsibilities because they are weaker.”

  Ecaterina snorted “I know exactly what you mean. My Nathan did the same sort of thing to me some time ago when I was human. I don’t think it is the case this time. For two reasons. The first is that the most common trigger for that form is an extreme loss. Nathan thought I was dead before the first time he changed. From what you have told me, the death of Boris’s mother caused his first change. He wants to spare you that pain. He loves you, even if he isn’t showing it.” She smirked as Janna blushed a furious red at the comment.

  She continued in a more serious tone “He is also worried about whether or not you will succumb to the form. The Pricolici form is very intoxicating. I have felt it, the call to change into it because I can, not because I need to. And he has hunted down people who have lost themselves to it. That is another fear he has. You cannot blame him for that. It is similar to all of the older vampires I have met. They each have regrets and are, for lack of a better term, a little broken. They have an aspect of… having seen too much.”

  Janna nodded “And he is as old as some of the younger vampires in the group you are talking about. He has a lot of ‘baggage,’ I think that is the American idiom. I cannot believe I just called someone over four hundred years old younger. It all seems so unreal still sometimes.”

  Ecaterina burst into laughter. “So is there anything else I can do for you?”

  “I need someone to train against, though. He is so careful as if the training will break me. Holding back because I still need to learn more. You don’t know any werebears do you?”

  Ecaterina broke into giggles. “Oh, I do actually. Yes, indeed. My uncle happens to be one. Would you like me to ask him?”

  Janna nodded eagerly “Yes. Please. It looks like Boris will be gone for another week. He has decided to see the refugees to the border before he returns. I want him to feel I am completely ready when he returns.”

  So Janna continued to train as a werebear against a werebear. Alexi couldn’t deny his favorite niece’s request. The woman who supported Bethany Anne arranged for it to happen.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Refugee Column, Near the Mongolian Border.

  “Boris, a good morning to you,” said Lev, approaching Boris’s sleeping tent. The weather had been better for the last few days. Both Lev and Boris appreciated it, if for different reasons. Lev, because, despite everything, they would still make the rendezvous if a day late. Boris had confirmed the pickup would be there. Boris because it meant that ADAM could verify that no significant forces were moving to intercept.

  The Mongolian Pack Mistress had sent a message. The first part of it was a slight rebuke to Boris for not aski
ng for aid or giving her warning of the refugees. The Mongolian Pack, unlike most packs of the UnknownWorld, often had someone either inside the government or advising them directly. The Mongolian government and people were, at the moment, thrilled that the Chinese had been hammered. Although China was a major trade partner, historically they were seen as a threat.