The Col Sec Chronicles Box Set

by Jan Domagala

  “I’m fine now, just a bit woozy there for a second. How about you, did you say you were blasted too?”

  “Yep, but it seems I recovered quicker than you, probably due to the changes I told you about,” he replied. Then a thought struck him and he started looking around the small room staring intently at the small recesses and the finer details.

  “What’re you looking for?” she asked, then she too realised he was looking for any sign that the room was bugged. If it was, then what he had just said could be the noose that hanged them.

  “I can’t see anything that would indicate there are any hidden lenses here, and there would be no reason for there to be. This isn’t the brig; it’s just a cabin like any of the quarters on board a thousand starships just like this one. If he’d planned on keeping us under surveillance then he would’ve put us in the brig. Everything about this pickup seems rushed to me, almost as if he made it up as he went along.”

  “You could be right there, especially seeing as how he watched you in the fight at the club. Watching you handle all those guys would make him revise his plans.”

  “They obviously want to extract whatever they can from me about the project so they can duplicate it for themselves.”

  “What do we do now then?” Hardy asked finally.

  “I can’t make any plans until I know where we are, but our priority has to be getting our asses out of here and as fast as we can,” Stryder answered.

  * * * * *

  On the bridge of the starship Norsky was sitting in the pilot’s seat, his fingers playing over the controls as he guided her through the vast reaches of hyperspace.

  Everything was going according to plan; his mission had been an unqualified success. His capture of Captain Stryder almost certainly guaranteed his promotion and as that knowledge played around inside his mind he couldn’t help but smile.

  He’d outwitted the much-vaunted Confederation, captured their supposed prized possession right from under their noses and brought him here to Alliance space. Told like that in simple terms he wondered if Col Sec was the great force everyone was led to believe.

  However, he had won and they had lost, it was as simple as that. Stryder was theirs now and there was no way they could get him back.

  Personally speaking though, he couldn’t see what all the fuss was about. Yes, he had to admit, that Stryder seemed to be a remarkable individual, but did he qualify for all the attention that was being lavished upon him? He supposed that only time would tell, and for him to gain the answer to that question he would have to get him safely to his destination.

  An entry point to normal space opened in front of him, as the jump through hyperspace was completed, and the starship’s deceleration back to real time speed took place.

  He contacted Captain Nokorovic to inform him of his success.

  “Congratulations Captain, this is excellent news. Go directly to our complex on Toldax and hand over your prisoners. Once that is done your commitment to this mission is fulfilled. You have some leave coming to you,” Nokorovic said with obvious pleasure in his voice.

  “Thank you, sir, I’ll set course for Toldax immediately,” Norsky said, hoping he had disguised the smug tone of his voice. He knew this victory would get him noticed by the high-ranking Generals of the Alliance.

  “I’ll inform them of your arrival,” Nokorovic said, then broke the connection.

  As Norsky programmed the autopilot for the change in course he couldn’t help but plan what he would do with his newfound fame.

  As the ship turned onto its new heading Norsky sat back in the pilot’s chair a satisfied grin plastered across his face.

  * * * * *

  “Any news on finding that ship?” Sinclair asked as he strode across the bridge of the starship. He was battling to keep his anger under control. He had no idea how this situation had gone from poor to hell and back in such a short space of time. What was ten times worse, he had no idea how to gain anything from it. If they didn’t find where Stryder and Hardy were, how could they even think of mounting a rescue operation? The answer was simple and short, they couldn’t.

  They had nothing to work on, no leads, nothing. It was hopeless. Stryder and Hardy were alone.

  “None, sir,” Captain Reynolds replied.

  “Well, Captain, that’s just not good enough!” stormed Sinclair. The bridge was plunged into silence, no one daring to utter even the slightest sound for fear of focussing his anger on them. It was unusual for the General to raise his voice like that. It was virtually unheard of and it caught them all off guard.

  After a pause Reynolds said, “Sir, may I ask a question?”

  Sinclair spun on him his fury blazing through his eyes, but before answering he composed himself, aware that his normal shield of calm was slipping. He could not allow that to happen again. “What?” he said, his normal calm demeanour slowly returning.

  “One thing’s been bothering me for a while now, sir, and that’s how the Alliance got hold of the codes for the Recon Delta tracking chips,” Reynolds said.

  “How is that going to help this situation may I ask?” Sinclair said, and then held up a hand to halt Reynolds, as he digested what had been said. “Yes, of course, if we can discover who gave them the codes, we might be able to exert some pressure to find out where they intend taking Stryder. Good point Captain, continue your search, I’ll be in my quarters, I’ve things to sort out,” he said. He turned on his heel and strode out of the bridge leaving Reynolds with his mouth wide open and the rest of the bridge crew to continue with their work.

  After a short pause, Reynolds regained his composure and said, “You heard the man, let’s continue the sensor sweeps.”

  * * * * *

  Toldax was an Earth-type planet, one of the few that hadn’t needed to be terraformed before the colonisation started. The Alliance found it before the Confederation even knew of it. It was situated twenty-four light years from the border of Confederation and Alliance space on the Alliance side.

  Norsky took his starship into a parking orbit around the planet while he waited for authorisation to land. He didn’t have to wait for long; the authorisation was rushed through giving him priority due to the nature of his cargo.

  He took the starship into land at the main spaceport of the military base, situated away from the populated areas. The population of the planet numbered close to four million, most of them living in the one huge city on the largest landmass. There were a few homesteads dotted about outside the city where those families who preferred to live off the land dwelled.

  The military base was well away from any of these, situated almost on the opposite side of the planet, on the second of the two largest landmasses. It was a sprawling complex, low to the ground with only one floor at sea level but several floors below ground level.

  As he landed, guards surrounded the craft the moment the engines were powered down and made secure. The hatches were opened and Marines stormed the craft.

  * * * * *

  “The engines have been cut and it feels like we’ve put down. Whatever they have planned will happen soon so stay close,” Stryder said, standing between Hardy and the doorway to protect her from any intruders.

  “What do you think they intend to do?” she asked as she came around him to stand by his side. If she was scared then she hid it extremely well and Stryder was proud of her, she was a fine Marine.

  “I think they intend to extract what they can from me about the programme. How they intend to do that I’m not sure,” Stryder replied, then his ears picked up a sound from outside the door. He turned his head so he could hear a little better.

  “What, what is it?” Hardy asked, having heard nothing.

  “They’re coming, stay cool,” Stryder said.

  The door opened and three Marines entered the room. They were all armed with assault rifles aimed at the couple in the room.

  Norsky appeared from behind the Marines. His face had altered back to its normal physiognomy
.

  “Captain Stryder, you’ll go with these gentlemen please,” he said with a smug smile.

  Stryder turned to look at Hardy, smiled, and said, “Don’t worry, I’ll be fine,” then turned and walked towards the trio of Marines.

  As they walked past Norsky Stryder said, “You touch one hair on her head and I’ll kill you.”

  Norsky glanced at him and the cold stare from Stryder’s cobalt blue eyes chilled his blood.

  “You are in no position to make idle threats,” Norsky responded.

  “It’s not an idle threat.”

  “Take him away,” Norsky told the Marines, ending any further comments from his captive prize. He turned to Hardy and said, “You, my dear, will be coming with me.”

  “You’ve got to be joking right? If you think you’re taking me anywhere then think again,” she replied defiantly.

  “You can stay here. The Marines will come back and lock you up, but God knows what they’ll do to you. You’re on your own behind enemy lines. You see, nobody knows where you are, so, my dear, there’s no one who can help you. Or, you can come with me and I’ll make your stay here as comfortable as I can. Your choice,” Norsky replied.

  “It doesn’t look like I’ve got much of a choice; if I’ve got to be a prisoner then I may as well be a comfortable one,” Hardy replied.

  The Marines marched Stryder from the starship towards the interior of the base. They passed through several corridors until they came to a door that opened as they approached.

  Inside the cavernous room was a large table at the centre. Straps were situated at the four corners, obviously to restrain whoever was forced to lie on it. At the head of the table was a row of monitors and three technicians, all wearing white lab coats, stood around waiting for the test subject, who Stryder knew to be him.

  There was another person in the room, in the uniform of a General in the Alliance. He was huge, standing six feet six inches tall with the muscular build of a weightlifter, the bulges showing through his close fitting uniform. His hair was white and cut to military length. As they entered the room he turned and viewed them, a smile crossing his lips and his clear blue eyes showing his delight.

  “Ah! There you are, you have no idea how long I’ve waited to meet you, Captain Stryder,” General Solon said.

  “I’m honoured, General Solon, in the flesh. I didn’t realise I was that important for the head of Special Operations to come here personally just to tuck me into my new quarters. I feel very humble indeed,” Stryder said. He’d recognised the man the instant he saw his broad back.

  “So you know who I am. Of course, being in Recon Delta you would be aware of who commanded those opposite you. Well let’s get down to it, shall we? You’re here to help us find the solution to a problem that’s been troubling us for a few months now.”

  “And that is?”

  “Did the programme you took part in on your Research Station Five, render any repeatable results?”

  “That’s an easy one, so there was no need to go to all this trouble. All you had to do was ask and I’d have told you. The simple answer is, no, it was a complete failure.”

  “You’ll excuse me if I don’t believe you. There have been reports that you have exhibited signs of increased ability, which leads us to believe that it was the opposite in fact. We believe that it was an unqualified success and you’re here to provide us with the samples that will allow us to repeat the process and form our own prototype.”

  “And what if I refuse?” Stryder asked.

  A gun suddenly appeared in General Solon’s hand, a Magerov M9. He said, “That isn’t an option,” and shot him. The blast of reduced pulsed plasma energy struck him in the centre of the chest stunning him. It sent him staggering backwards into the trio of Marines who caught him before he collapsed onto the floor.

  “Strap him down on the table,” Solon said to the Marines supporting Stryder then, turning to the lab techs, said, “He’s all yours, get to work. I want results by sundown tonight.” With that he left the room.

  20

  Sinclair contacted Col Sec HQ on Earth via a secure link through his NI. The man he spoke to was his second in command and the man he most trusted. Colonel Abraham Gemmell, like Sinclair, was a career officer who had devoted his life to the service of the Confederation. He was the man who Sinclair relied upon the most to help run the Intelligence Division of Col Sec. Standing at six feet five inches tall with a slim, lean physique he set the example for the officers beneath him, regularly going on training exercises with the troops to keep sharp and abreast of the latest regime. Sharp grey eyes focused his keen intelligence on any task afforded him, which he faced head on with a fierce tenacity that bordered upon obsession. In his late forties, his hair, cut short to military length, had lost none of its colour and the dark lustre of the black hair contrasted with the light grey tone of his eyes.

  He was at his desk in Col Sec HQ when he took the call from Sinclair. He had been waiting for a report from his superior, who had promised to keep him informed of the progress of that particular mission. It was a sticking point between them, as Gemmell argued that Sinclair should have delegated someone else to handle the op and not the head of the Intelligence Division. He thought that Sinclair was placing himself at risk and through him the entire security of the Confederation.

  Sinclair had stated that he had a personal investment in the op because he had been in charge of the programme on Research Station Five, an investment that wouldn’t allow him to delegate to anyone else. His personal involvement with the programme, and intimate knowledge of Stryder and the events that took place during the programme, made it imperative that he handle it. If there was any chance of rescuing anything from the ruins of that programme and getting Stryder to work with them once more, he had to take charge. He thought that Stryder might not take too kindly to just another Col Sec officer trying to persuade him to return, whereas if Sinclair approached him personally, he might be a little more receptive.

  Whatever his arguments, Gemmell hadn’t agreed but being only second in command – General trumps Colonel every time – he had to go along with it. What he did though was keep a close eye on things and have a starship on standby with a contingent of Recon Delta Marines on board ready to go at a moment’s notice.

  “We’ve got a major problem here Abe and I need you to do something. I’m not sure if it’ll help the situation in time but this needs sorting anyway,” Sinclair said once the connection was made.

  “Go ahead, sir,” Gemmell replied gearing himself for what he’d expected since the beginning.

  “Stryder has been captured by Alliance forces. What I need from you is information. They captured him by accessing the codes for his tracker,” Sinclair said, waiting for what he knew must come from his close friend and second in command – the inevitable “I told you so”.

  “How is that possible sir, those codes are accessible only to someone with Gold clearance?” Gemmell replied, controlling the urge to vent but instead focusing on the problem at hand.

  “That’s what I want you to find out.”

  “Now I understand what you meant about it helping the immediate situation. What are your thoughts if I manage to locate what you want? I’m assuming you think we must have a mole here at HQ?”

  “That’s right, it’s the only possible answer. What I want you to do, and it’ll be difficult I’m aware of that, made more so by the time constraints you’ll have to work under, is find the mole without tipping your hand. I don’t want them either running scared or going deep so we never find them, you understand? Once you have them I want them squeezed until they agree to work for us. We need their contacts so that we can work something out about getting Stryder back.”

  “I’m sorry, sir, but I don’t see how getting the mole to work for us can help get Stryder back. The Alliance will just cut them loose; they’ll never swap them for him.”

  “I know, but if we can get their contact in the Alliance we may be ab
le to learn where they’re holding Stryder and if, and I stress the word if, we learn that, we can hopefully mount an op to recapture him before it’s too late.”

  “I understand about the time constraints you mention, sir, but there are also too many ‘ifs’ for my comfort sir.”

  “You’d better get to work then Abe.”

  “Yes, sir, I’ll get my best man on it right away,” Gemmell said.

  “I knew I could rely on you for this Abe and I know I’ve got some serious ‘I told you so’s’ coming my way from you, so I just want to say from the start, thanks.”

  “Look sir, the recriminations can wait until this is over. Let’s just get this done, then you can thank me, okay?”

  “You’re right of course, do your best Colonel.”

  “Always, sir,” Gemmell said, then the call was ended. He sat back in his chair and thought about what lay ahead and the best way to go about it. There was only one way to handle this delicate situation and that was with kid gloves. His top man was not known for his delicate approach, but he was the best he could think of. He would just have to adapt his approach to this particular problem.

  Using a secure channel he called the person in question. Captain Matthew Hawk. He was on Earth at that moment training with a team of Recon Delta Marines in close quarter combat.

  Standing six feet six inches tall with broad shoulders, trim waist and thick, muscular arms and legs, he faced three opponents. His ice blue eyes sparkled with a mischievous quality that was often mistaken for indifference. Those who faced him knew him well enough to not underestimate him.

  They were in a chamber in Col Sec HQ, the Intelligence wing deep in the bowels of the building where most of the training took place.