The Col Sec Chronicles Box Set

by Jan Domagala

  Tchercovic could have been behind any one of them or even the loading vehicle, the eloquently titled Multi Grab and Lift Loading Vehicle. The staff simply called it the Loader.

  “We’ll soon be out of time, we need to do something fast. Make sure when you get the shot you take it, but remember, we need him alive so make sure your rifle’s on a stun setting,” Stryder said.

  “Whoa! Hold on, what have you got in mind?” asked the Marine.

  “I’m going to try and draw him out, so the second you see him, take him out, got that?” replied Stryder, getting himself ready to move.

  He sprung out from behind the containers they were using for cover before the Marine could reply and ran towards the hatch.

  Positioned behind a group of containers to the right of the hatch, Tchercovic saw Stryder come running towards him. He knew it was a ploy to draw him out but he thought he could use it against them. Time was running out, so he had to act fast.

  Bringing up the Sig P996 to aim, he stood up and fired straight at Stryder.

  The Marine saw the movement but Stryder’s trajectory put him directly between him and his target, Tchercovic. He had no clear shot.

  Stryder saw him get to his feet, weapon in hand, aimed directly at him. Instantly he knew the mistake he’d made, there was no way the Marine could get his shot off, he was directly in his line of fire. He saw the movement, heard the gunshot too late.

  The blast struck him on his shoulder as he turned trying to avoid it.

  As the gun went off, the Marine stood up, bringing his assault rifle up to his shoulder sighting down the barrel but just a millisecond too late, for as Stryder was hit and twisted out of his line of sight, Tchercovic fired a second time, almost a double tap, the two shots almost as one. The pulsed plasma bolt struck him in his chest again sending him backwards to collide with the wall, sending his assault rifle spinning from his hands. The special body armour he wore absorbed the impact of the bolt, which meant the energy in the charge didn’t get through to him. However, the force of the impact was like being hit by a solid object at a thousand feet per second. That’s what sent him crashing into the wall, his breath knocked out of him. For a moment he was unconscious, but a moment was all Tchercovic needed to make his escape.

  With both men down, his way to the hatch and his escape were clear. Glancing at them, with a sneer of contempt on his face, he turned towards the hatch.

  The pain from the plasma bolt was intense as it seared Stryder’s flesh. He had tried to ride it, twist out of the way, but even though he knew his reflexes had increased he was still not agile enough to dodge something that fast. He hit the floor, not only in pain from being shot, but from knowing he’d failed. Being shot at such close range meant he would go into shock, lose consciousness and most probably die. There was no way he could stop Tchercovic now. He had failed and everyone on the station would die.

  Even as those thoughts were going through his mind, so was another thought, a realisation … the pain was fading.

  Stryder hit the floor, heard the second shot and knew the Marine had been hit. He just hoped it wasn’t a headshot.

  He glanced up and saw Tchercovic walking casually towards the hatch, like he hadn’t a care in the world, which at that point, he hadn’t.

  Remarkably the pain was receding and as he looked down at his wound, Stryder saw again that his body was repairing itself.

  The consequences of this, the potential, was beyond his imagination at that moment. All he could think of was that he still had a chance to stop him, a chance to avert a certain disaster and save the lives of everyone on board the station. Sorting out the ramifications of his new ability could wait until everyone was safe.

  After getting to his feet, Stryder strode after the figure disappearing through the hatch, feeling stronger with every step.

  * * * * *

  Back in the C and C, Sinclair was still pacing across the deck. As he glanced at the chronometer, he realised they had less than five minutes remaining before the station’s reactor core went critical and blew them all to Hell and back.

  Stopping at the ops station he said, “Hacker, what’s your status son?” his voice calm as always, although that was the exact opposite of how he felt.

  Without lifting his eyes from his task Hacker said, “Sir, I think I may have something. He’s good, he’s very good but then so are we. He’s locked the main computer into a …”

  “Son, the short version,” interrupted Sinclair.

  “I’ve managed to gain partial access. I can now access Engineering and return control to them, sir,” Hacker replied.

  “Do it,” Sinclair ordered. Then through the NI said, “Engineering we’re about to return computer control to you. Reverse the reactor to normal parameters immediately. Advise us of your progress, Sinclair out.”

  To Hacker he said, “Good work son, now see what you can do about freeing the docking bays, we’re not out of the woods, just yet.”

  “I’m on it, sir,” Hacker replied as he continued to work feverishly at his console, his shoulders relaxing slightly with the knowledge that the main threat had been averted.

  “Engineering here, sir, we’ve managed to get the reactor back under control. It was close, damn close, sir. Another thirty seconds and no matter what we did it would’ve blown,” said the voice of the Chief Engineer, his voice breathless with relief at them pulling back from the brink of disaster.

  “What’s your status now then Chief?” Sinclair asked.

  “All reactor levels are dropping back down to normal now, sir. We should have things back on track within the hour. I would suggest that we take all non-essential systems offline for the time being sir, so that I can run a full diagnostic on the reactor, just to be safe.”

  “Good idea Chief, but I’m afraid we have a situation here that requires all the station’s resources. It should be cleared up in the next few minutes though, and as soon as it is, I’ll inform you and you can go ahead. Good work Chief, Sinclair out.”

  Sinclair stood erect, his back ramrod stiff, showing no sign of the tension he had been feeling. Just a few loose ends to tie up then we can all relax he mused. The biggest loose end of them all though, was Tchercovic. They might not need his access code anymore but he was still in possession of the project data. Until that was either returned or destroyed, they were all still at risk.

  “Cancel the Red Alert, Hacker,” he said and the alarms were cut.

  6

  Stryder followed Tchercovic through the hatch. He saw him go through the outer hatch into the walkway umbilical that led to his ship, when suddenly the station’s alarms went silent.

  Startled by the sudden quiet Tchercovic spun around and saw Stryder standing there, large as life in spite of having been shot twice.

  Stryder’s NI tingled and he said, “Kind of busy right now.”

  Sinclair’s voice came through clear, as he said, “We’ve managed to regain control of the computer and reversed the reactor from going critical. You just need to retrieve the project data now.”

  “I’m on it, sir,” Stryder replied. He smiled because some of the pressure was off, although his task was still far from easy. He was still facing a determined, armed enemy with no means of defending himself. It could get interesting.

  “I had no doubt that you would be able to crack my code, although I never thought you’d have had the time,” Tchercovic said, bringing up the Sig P996 to point directly at Stryder. “No matter, I’ve got what I need, and there’s nothing you can do to stop me,” he added.

  “You’ve shot me twice Howard, and I’m still here, so there seems to be nothing you can do to stop me,” Stryder replied.

  “Is that a fact? Perhaps a headshot might stop you. It should at least slow you down enough so I can reach my ship,” Tchercovic said as he aimed the Sig carefully at Stryder’s head.

  The walkway umbilical was basically a tunnel. It was large enough for the loader to transport cargo from the docking bay to a wai
ting ship, or vice versa, but a tunnel nonetheless. There was effectively, nowhere for him to hide.

  It had already been proven that he couldn’t dodge the plasma bolts, so he knew he was in trouble.

  His only chance lay in the fact that Tchercovic had said he would try for a head shot, the most difficult shot to make with a moving target. Even a marksman would find it tricky, as it was the smallest target to hit, so he planned to make it even more difficult for him.

  Seeing it as his only option, he adopted a fighter’s stance. Dancing from one foot to the other, his weight evenly distributed as he balanced lightly on the balls of his feet he began to bob and weave. He moved up and down, then left and right, presenting a frustratingly elusive target. Then he started to approach the Black Knight.

  Tchercovic saw what Stryder was trying to do, so he fired.

  His first shot missed, the plasma bolt searing the hair on Stryder’s head as it passed harmlessly on the left. He fired again, more carefully this time and again it missed.

  Stryder was getting closer with every shot; soon he would be within arm’s reach. He had to stop him.

  He fired again and again as he began to allow panic to set in. His aim became more and more erratic, and then finally, his battery clip was empty.

  In desperation he threw the useless weapon the fifteen or so feet now separating them. Deftly Stryder caught the Sig in his right hand and tossed it straight back catching Tchercovic full in the face.

  Stryder closed the distance between them before the Black Knight had recovered from the blow.

  Stryder grabbed him by the front of his shirt then delivered a thunderous right punch, hitting him flush in the face. As his nose broke blood spurted out, cascading over his face and, for good measure, Stryder hit him again.

  Releasing his grip, Stryder allowed him to fall to the floor stunned.

  Quickly he searched his prone form and found the data card that was loaded with everything from the project. Getting up, he started to walk back towards the hatch.

  Tchercovic began to revive and saw Stryder walking away. He knew he must have the data card and, seeing his Sig within reach, took his chance.

  Picking up the fallen weapon and ejecting the spent battery clip, he inserted a fresh one from his back pocket and then pulled back on the slide to prime the clip. This gave him another twenty shots, which would be more than enough for what he needed.

  Getting to his feet he prepared to shoot Stryder in the back.

  Stryder heard the battery clip being ejected and another rammed up into the grip of the Sig. Then he heard someone shout, “DOWN!”

  As Stryder dived for the floor a high energy plasma bolt shot over his head and struck Tchercovic full in the chest, throwing him several metres back towards the outer hatch on the walkway umbilical. Blood from his wound traced an arc through the air.

  Stryder looked up and saw the Marine standing in the doorway of the hatch sighting down the barrel of his assault rifle. As he brought the weapon down he looked at Stryder and smiled.

  “The alarms went silent, which meant we were out of danger from the reactor core going critical and you were walking from him holding a data card. I assumed it safe to say you didn’t need him alive any more. Was I right?” he said, his smile fading slightly.

  Getting to his feet Stryder smiled and said, “You were right, and thanks.”

  “Stryder to General Sinclair, the data card has been retrieved and Howard is dead, sir,” he said using his NI.

  “Good work Captain, bring the data card here and I’ll debrief you.”

  “Sir, can the debrief wait? I’d like to get back to bed,” Stryder said.

  Laughing, Sinclair said, “Okay Captain, I think you’ve earned it. See you at o eight hundred.”

  Stryder looked at the Marine. “I’m bushed. Hey, I never got your name.”

  “Captain Storm sir, call sign Guardian,” said the Marine.

  “Guardian?” Stryder enquired.

  “Yes sir, my men gave it to me, said it was because I always looked out for them,” Storm told him.

  “Well, I can certainly vouch for that. Now if you’ll excuse me, there’s a pillow on my bunk that’s got my name on it,” Stryder said as he led the way out of the docking bay.

  7

  Over a thousand light years away, deep in the heart of Alliance space on the planet Dalos IV, one man was eagerly awaiting news from Research Station Five. That man was General Solon, late of the Black Knights, himself now head of Special Operations, which meant he was in charge of all covert missions against the Confederation.

  Sitting at his desk, he was going through some mission reports. Still in his prime despite being over sixty years of age, he had been head of Special Operations for the past ten years. His hair was completely white, which was possibly the only indication of his true age. A face devoid of wrinkles, except those around the eyes, looked intently at the computer screen before him on his desk. Large fingers deftly worked the keypad controller as he scrolled through the reports.

  He was a large man in every way, tall, standing at just over six feet six inches, and muscular. He had the physique of a weight lifter, still toned despite his age. He was undoubtedly courageous, being one of the most decorated soldiers in Alliance history. His nose was slightly askew, a feature he chose not to correct as it reminded him of all the battles he had fought over the years. He was an expert in close-quarter combat and, even now, practised daily. His eyes were slate grey and at times, cold, like those of a shark. A scar ran from his left eyebrow to the point of his cheekbone in a curved line, another testament to his many battles.

  The door to his chambers opened and Captain Nokorovic walked in, a grave expression on his average features.

  “Yes, Captain, what is it?” Solon asked, his deep bass voice booming out from his barrel chest.

  “Sir, we’ve just received a coded transmission from our informant at Col Sec Headquarters,” Nokorovic said, his normal voice sounding positively anaemic next to Solon’s rich, textured, bass voice. Nokorovic was average in every way – looks, build and personality. It was a mystery how he got to be the great man’s aid to everyone except the great man himself. Solon had heard of Nokorovic’s undercover work for which his plain, mediocre appearance made him well suited. He had asked for him personally to be his aide, after his cover had been blown and he had become a known face to the analysts at Col Sec.

  “And?” enquired Solon.

  “There’s been an incident at Research Station Five, sir. Tchercovic has been reported killed, sir.”

  “Killed, how?” Solon asked, a feeling of dread beginning to spread through him.

  “They’re saying it was an accident sir, but our informant says that they knew Tchercovic was a traitor. They don’t know his true identity and they may never know. One good thing’s come out of this though, sir.”

  “What’s that?” Solon asked, hoping for something, anything, positive to come out of this debacle.

  “Col Sec has abandoned the project sir. It seems it’s too dangerous to pursue any further.”

  “And do you honestly believe that Captain? It’s more likely that they were successful. Find out all you can about this project from our informant. If they were successful, I want to know. Find out the names of any surviving test subjects. If the informant can’t tell us what we want, we’ll go directly to the source and grab one of them.”

  “Aye sir, I’ll get right on it.”

  * * * * *

  Stryder lounged on his reclining chair on the front veranda of his house, which had a magnificent view of the bay below.

  Over the past two weeks since his debrief and departure from Research Station Five after being granted permission for leave, his skin had darkened to a rich tan. His blond hair had lightened under the hot sun and his body had become stronger through his regular exercise routine, interspersed with hefty doses of relaxation.

  The property he called home was a two-storey detached villa construct
ed of white brick. On the ground floor were the garage, kitchen, gym/armoury and utilities room, which housed spare equipment and also served as a laundry room. Upstairs the entire floor was given over to living space. There was a spacious lounge with glass patio doors opening out onto the veranda, and large enough to accommodate a table and chairs for a six-place setting, plus enough lounge chairs for the same. There were also four bedrooms, two bathrooms and a study.

  Stryder had inherited it from his parents after a tragic road accident took their lives three years previously. They had all lived there together as a family. When his parents took early retirement after selling the family business for a hefty profit, they took to travelling in a luxurious ground car, until the day of the accident. Their car had been forced off the road by a driver who was on the run from the local Constabulary, causing them to fly off a cliffside road only to meet their death on the rocks below.

  Out of all the locations they could have chosen this was the one they finally decided upon. Celeron was one of the first planets the Confederation had settled over three hundred years ago, and after terraforming it into the planet it was now, it had, over two centuries, developed a vibrant culture of its own.

  Similar in climate to that of Earth, Celeron boasted four large landmasses surrounded by oceans. On the landmasses grew the two major cities, Jamestown and Jacksonville named after the original colony leaders.

  Stryder’s parents were born and raised in Jacksonville and his father had proposed to his mother where the villa now stood. That area of the coast had become an attraction for holidaymakers, not only from that planet but also from all over the Confederation.

  Stryder was assailed with memories of his parents every time he returned there. It was almost as if their very essence imbued the place.