The Col Sec Chronicles Box Set

by Jan Domagala

  Turning to face the man those three had been attempting to guard, Kurt said, “Excuse me, may I pass please?” with exaggerated politeness.

  Fear was etched across the man’s handsome features and in a quivering voice he replied, “Don’t hurt me.”

  “I just want to get to the Observation Lounge to watch our departure, that’s all. If your boys hadn’t been so overzealous in the performance of their duty, none of this would’ve happened,” Kurt replied as his anger began to dissipate. The guards behind the man facing him were understandably wary of the blonde haired warrior and they had their pistols drawn and aimed at him. Unfortunately, because their charge was in front of them they did not have a clear shot.

  Recognising the weapon as the Sig P996, Kurt asked, “Are these guys military?”

  Finding his confidence returning the frightened man said, “Yes, they are supposed to be the finest, Col Sec’s Diplomatic Corp Security.”

  “Then you must be Prince Aswan. I’m honoured sir,” Kurt said with a slight bow, then he walked past the prince. To the two remaining guards, who flattened themselves against the wall as he approached, said, “At ease guys,” and he tossed the captured pistol to them as he departed, leaving them to watch and wonder at what had just happened.

  2

  The old adage of ‘time flies when you’re having fun’ came to mind as Kurt took his morning shower. His early routine of calisthenics consisting of several sets of push ups, sit ups and various stretching exercises followed by a series of moves from several martial arts such as kata’s or sets depending upon the discipline, had left him fully awake and perspiring. It had been just over a week since boarding the Queen and yet it felt like only yesterday.

  The solitude he had enjoyed because of the depleted passenger list had helped him to relax. He was beginning to feel good about himself once more as the grip of his grief slackened which allowed him to feel again.

  Roaming the vast decks of the cruise starship, he hardly met any members of the crew. On the odd occasions where he bumped into Prince Aswan and his entourage, apart from a slight nod of a head there was no indication that their first meeting had ever taken place. The prince obviously didn’t want to broadcast the fact he was frightened in front of his guards and neither did his guards want to admit they were bested so easily by one man. It was a mutual agreement by all parties, albeit a silent agreement that nothing would be said about the incident. Kurt also did not intend to broadcast what had happened for fear of drawing attention to his enhanced strength and speed, something he was beginning to accept now as a fact of his life. Not something, he wanted others to look too closely at in case they saw something else.

  As he dried himself off in the cubicle, which doubled as a drying chamber, he contemplated his agenda for the day ahead. The warm air jets felt good as the water was evaporated then recycled through the various filters and reclamation devices. Then he felt something, something that suddenly put him on edge. The starship had just made a jump to hyperspace.

  Getting dressed quickly in his cargo pants and tee shirt he made his way to the door of his stateroom pulling on his walking shoes as he went. This jump was unscheduled and Kurt wanted to know what had warranted the captain to take his ship off course.

  Accessing the ships computer via his NI he hacked into the nav-logs. The jump was indeed not on the prearranged flight plan and when he learnt of the destination he felt a chill of dread sprint through his blood.

  Was the captain mad he wondered, then before leaving his stateroom he turned back, went to his travel grip and took out his Sig P996? Quickly he shrugged the soft leatherine shoulder holster on with the integral recharging unit built into the pouches the spare battery clips slotted into and after pulling back on the slide on the top of the pistol to prime the weapon he placed it into the holster beneath his left armpit. To conceal it he put on his favourite, battered old leatherine jacket then he left the stateroom.

  What he knew about their new destination came from classified files and he had two scenarios running through his mind as to why they would altered course, and neither one was good.

  One thing was certain; they were heading for trouble.

  3

  The bridge was state of the art with the newest and best technology available; no expense had been spared there either. The layout of the bridge was circular with a centre command chair for the captain and two seats in front of that, the right one for the helm and the left for ops. As Kurt entered the circular room, each seat was occupied and the captain turned to see who had intruded.

  “Who are you and what is the meaning of your barging onto my bridge like this?” sputtered the captain in outrage.

  “Who I am is not important, where you’re taking us though, is,” Kurt replied.

  The captain’s brow furrowed in confusion as he asked, “How do you know where we’re going? Are you a member of Prince Aswan’s party?”

  “No I’m not, but more importantly, why are you taking us off course?” Kurt answered with another question.

  “That is none of your business. Now I must ask you to leave my bridge or I’ll have you forcibly removed,” the captain said, standing up to his full height and squaring his shoulders. He was an old man, nearing retirement age. His white hair was cut short and his face showed signs of his advanced years. Wrinkles across the brow, crow’s feet around the still bright and intelligent eyes, but he had a strong mouth, which was firmly set in grim determination. In good shape for his age, he stood tall looking Kurt straight in the eye at a little over six feet three.

  “Where you’re taking us is a very bad place Captain, there’s things about it that are not in the official report, things that will put this ship and all aboard her in mortal danger,” Kurt explained.

  “Who the hell are you and how do you know we’ve gone off course?” persisted the captain adamantly.

  “I suggest you focus all your attention on getting us out of here and this ship safely back on course, rather than who I am,” Kurt said.

  The captain faltered slightly then turned to the other officers who had turned to watch the exchange, and said, “One sweep by so the Prince can see it, then return us to our previous course.”

  “You’ve brought us here so the Prince can see it?” asked Kurt, his voice rising in disbelief.

  “Prince Aswan is one of the wealthiest men in the galaxy,” the captain said as if that was explanation enough.

  “I just hope he offered you enough to compensate because if we get out of this alive, you and your crew will spend the rest of your lives in a penal colony for breaking an interstellar treaty. You do know the Tartaran Battlefield is a Forbidden Zone, don’t you? Everyone who has a captain’s license knows that,” Kurt said hardly believing what was happening.

  The captain spun around to say something but before he could utter a word, ops said, “Sir, several small craft have departed from the debris field and are heading our way.”

  “What?” the captain said rushing over to ops, “Are you sure, this area is supposed to be deserted.”

  “They’re Outlaws,” Kurt said.

  “Excuse me?” the captain asked as he studied the sensor readings.

  “Criminals from both sides have formed a community here and with the levels of residual radiation from the battle, they must have adapted somehow. There’s no telling what we’ll be facing,” Kurt said calmly, his old training kicking in.

  “How do you know so much about this area?” ops asked.

  “I used to be Recon Delta, so trust me, we’re in big trouble,” Kurt said, allowing them to know that one fact about him so they would believe him, and take what he said seriously.

  Ops looked at the captain and Kurt could tell they were leaning more towards trusting him and he saw fear blossom in their eyes.

  “What do we do?” asked the captain and it was obvious to Kurt, that this man was a civilian captain who had no previous military training.

  “First we need to get out of he
re and fast, secondly, order your security to be prepared to repel boarders.”

  “Security?” the captain replied.

  “Boarders?” the helm officer replied.

  “You have security staff, to help handle unruly passengers and the like, such as terrorists. It’s a requirement for all civilian craft to have them,” Kurt said and by their reaction, he surmised that this might not be the only thing that the Colonial Line had saved on.

  “Boarders, you said boarders,” helm reiterated.

  “Yes, they’ll try to come on board to take control of the ship, for either salvage or to refit her with weapons. You never heard of pirates? They may even want to hold you for ransom or they could just plain murder you, rape any women, then eat the lot of you. There’s no way of telling, no one’s been stupid enough to get this close before.”

  The captain urgently turned to the helm and said, “Prepare to make the jump to our previous location.”

  “Aye sir,” replied helm, his voice quaking with fear.

  A violent explosion rocked the huge starship as the incoming attack craft opened fire. The engines were targeted; clearly, the Outlaws had more military training than this crew did.

  Those on the bridge felt the explosion as the missile struck the rear section sending a shudder throughout the entire vessel. The bridge crew and Kurt were sent stumbling to the floor.

  Kurt grabbed the captain and hauled him to his feet, “Does this ship have shields or any weapons?” he asked already knowing the answer.

  “Just basic shields to protect against space debris, nothing that’ll come close to stopping weapons fire and this is a cruise liner, what would we need weapons for?” the captain asked.

  “Oh I don’t know, pirates or terrorists maybe,” Kurt said sardonically.

  “We’re ordered to stay on course on the pre-arranged flight paths already approved by the local authorities whose jurisdiction we cross into.”

  “Unless of course, you have a mega rich passenger on board, who bribes you to do otherwise, obviously.”

  The captain was about to argue but realised how absurd he would sound then simply asked, “What can we do?”

  “Make the jump before they reach us,” Kurt suggested and just as he had finished another missile struck the rear section followed by one more.

  The background hum that was evident on all starships suddenly faded, telling them something was wrong in a big way.

  Ops said, “Sir the main drive just went off line. We can’t make the jump.”

  “What do we do now?” the captain asked trying to remain calm yet he found it hard with the knowledge that his bad judgement and greed, had placed them in real danger, eating away at him.

  Kurt closed his eyes and concentrated. One of his enhancements, which he was still trying to understand, was an increase in brain activity centred on the use of his Neural Interface. The NI allowed him to interface with many and various pieces of tec such as com channels, computers etc, but he had learned and was still learning, to use his NI in ways that it was never designed for, almost as if it had been upgraded along with him.

  First, he composed a message, inputting all relevant data about their position and status including the passenger list. Then he compressed it all down into a data burst which he sent through a sub space, battle com channel directly to General Sinclair the head of Col Sec Intelligence Division, his old boss.

  Kurt opened his eyes to see three frightened faces staring at him, hoping for some guidance out of their predicament.

  “We stay alive,” he said.

  4

  Prince Aswan was standing on the Observation Lounge before the panoramic viewport overlooking the Tartaran Battlefield, one of the largest debris fields in the entire galaxy. Situated close to what is now the border between Colonial Confederation and Elysium Alliance space, the debris field was what was left of the hundreds of starships that took part in the battle for the planet in that system. Contested for by the two galactic super powers the planet was destroyed by the war. Destroyed, not in a literal sense but in an ecological sense. It was made uninhabitable by the radiation and so after the loss of thousands of lives with nothing to show for it other than a ravaged planet, an end to hostilities was called and the area was abandoned and designated a Forbidden Zone as a testament to the futility of war.

  Standing proudly in front of the viewport, his legs wide, with his hands on his hips, Aswan turned to look at the woman next to him.

  “Magnificent, isn’t it,” he said, his eyes wide with awe at the destruction before them and fuelled by the knowledge that no one but him had seen it for decades.

  “With respect sir, we should not be here,” Natasha Garvey said. She was as tall as he was although his lean hard physique had been earned by exercise set him by personal trainers; hers was earned through military training from years in Col Sec Diplomatic Corp Security. She had an athletic build, lean and hard yet her feminine curves remained. Dark brown eyes shone from an attractive face that had high cheekbones. Her normally full lips were firmly pressed together, a sign that she was not happy about their situation.

  He dismissed her caution with a wave of his hand then returned his gaze to the viewport. His hair was long, jet black and pulled tightly back from a high forehead into a ponytail allowing it to fall down his broad back. Surgically altered, his face was not the one he was born with. No expense had been spared to make him appear handsome. His eyes had been altered from brown to azure blue, his nose had been straightened, cheekbone implants had been added and his jaw line strengthened. Now he looked more like the movie star Prince he always thought he should look like.

  “What are those?” he asked when he saw several starships in the debris field.

  “Those are trouble sir,” Natasha replied.

  Turning away from the viewscreen Aswan faced Natasha with a worried frown he asked, “Trouble, what do you mean?”

  “They’re attack craft, old but still deadly, and they shouldn’t be here,” Natasha replied with a feeling of dread building inside her.

  “I don’t understand!” Aswan stated.

  “I’m not too sure I do either sir. One thing’s for certain though, they don’t look friendly.”

  Just as she’d finished speaking the first missile struck sending a huge shiver through the massive ship.

  “They’re attacking us?” he asked in disbelief as fear bloomed in his eyes.

  “I’m afraid so sir,” Natasha replied calmly then she accessed a com channel via her NI and said, “Tate, get the Princes’ entourage assembled and ready to evacuate, just in case this situation turns bad.”

  “What do you mean, turns bad? We’re under attack, isn’t that bad enough for you?” screamed the prince as panic lent a dangerous edge to his voice.

  Two other missiles struck the rear section of the cruise liner and Natasha sensed that things had just gotten worse.

  “Captain, what’s our status?” she asked after contacting the bridge.

  “We’re dead in space Miss Garvey, our main drive has been damaged,” came the rather rushed response.

  “Can we move away from the area at all?” she asked as she watched the attack craft get nearer through the panoramic viewport.

  “We can but I doubt we can outrun those attack craft.”

  “Then I suggest you get to the life boats and evacuate. Try to hide out on one of the moons of the outer planets of this system until help arrives. You’ve sent out a Mayday I take it?”

  “You’re the second person to suggest that but we’re not even supposed to be here, we’ll get into trouble if we contact anyone.”

  “Captain, we’re already in as much trouble as you’d ever want. Make the call,” Natasha said then ended the call. As she looked at Aswan he said, “Are you mad, evacuate the ship? We’re light years from civilisation where do you suggest we go? Oh, that’s right, hide out on one of the moons. Now I know you’re mad. My father was mad also; mad to allow a woman to lead my security. Thi
s is hopeless; we’re all going to die. I’ll make sure my father get’s you fired from this job.”

  “Well good luck with that especially if we’re all going to die,” she replied sarcastically and as he was about to add something she cut him dead with “And let’s not forget who got us into this situation shall we, sir.”

  Anger flushed his face, never in his life had anyone spoken to him like that before. If he had been at home, he would have had her publically flogged for such an affront. How dare she accuse him of this, he was just about to rebuke her accusation when she pulled out her Sig P996.

  “What are you going to do?” he asked as he watched her pull back on the slide to prime the weapon. For a second he thought she might be considering using it on him for his, what he was beginning to consider, may have been a hasty decision to persuade the captain to alter the ships course to this location.

  “My job sir. Now let’s move, we don’t have much time before those attack craft arrive,” she replied heading for the exit of the Observation Lounge.

  “Why, what will happen then?” he asked naively.

  “They’ll board us, take control of the ship and either take whoever is left here as prisoners or just kill them, it depends.”

  “Depends on what?”

  “If they only want the ship then the crew and passengers have no value so they’ll just kill them, but if they have a value, potential hostages or for ransom then they’ll take them prisoners.”

  “What do you think?”

  “We’re not supposed to be here, they know that, they also know that the chance of rescue is remote so my thought is they’ll kill anyone they find and just take the ship.”