Colossus (The Kurgan War Book 2)

by Richard Turner

  Tartov screamed in panic and threw himself to the floor. All around him, weapons opened fire as the Marines sought to even the score. Within seconds, the Chosen soldier lay dead on the floor with a dozen holes shot through his chest.

  A hand reached out and touched Tartov. He slowly turned over and saw he was looking into the face of the woman he had seen the dead sergeant chatting with just before James was killed. “PO, get up. We’ve got to get moving,” said the woman, taking charge.

  Tartov got to his feet. He fought the impulse to be sick. Vomit inside a survival suit helmet was not only repugnant, it could also be dangerous. He had heard of people drowning in their own vomit.

  “PO, which way?” asked the woman.

  “It’s down there,” replied Tartov, pointing down the corridor.

  “Okay, let’s move,” said the Marine, pulling Tartov along by the arm.

  A swarm of bullets whipped by Sheridan’s helmet forcing him to duck back around the corner of the wall for cover. He thought he had seen three guards protecting the door to the bridge, but he could not be sure. On the ground at his feet was a Marine, shot through both legs. One of his friends was already applying an adhesive to the wound to stop it from bleeding and to close up the holes in his survival suit.

  “Grenades,” said Sheridan to the two closest Marines.

  Both men edged to the corner and prepared their grenades. When they were ready, they looked over at Sheridan, who nodded his head. A second later, the grenades were tossed around the corner. Both explosive devices bounced along the floor like a pair of baseballs until they came to the locked door. The Chosen had nowhere to run. When the grenades went off, all three warriors were killed by the thousands of tiny metal shards that tore into their bodies.

  Sheridan made sure that he heard two explosions before turning the corner. He was the first man at the door. He pressed the button to open the door. It did not move. The Kurgans had turned off the automatic lock and secured the entrance from the other side. “Charges,” he said into his mic.

  A Marine ran forward and placed an explosive device on the door. Sheridan and the Marine stepped back and took what cover they could from the coming blast. “Do it,” said Sheridan to the wide-eyed Marine.

  “Here it is,” said Tartov as he pushed his way through his escort and stepped inside the ship’s computer room. He quickly assessed which system did what for the vessel. Time was not on his side and he knew it. Tartov hated working under pressure as it made him nauseous. If he failed here, the mission would be for naught. Tartov let out a cheer when he saw what he was looking for. He took out a small portable hard drive from a pocket on his survival suit and fed a cable into a side port on the computer in front of him. With his heart pounding in his ears, Tartov took a seat and began to type furiously on a keyboard, trying to override the bridge and lock the Kurgans out.

  “Cover him,” ordered the female Marine. Silently, the Marines took up fire positions covering both ends of the hallway.

  Tartov could feel the sweat trickling down his forehead. He knew that on the bridge someone just like him would be trying to stop him from doing what he was attempting. The difference was that the Kurgan would be more familiar with the operating system than he was. It was a race to block the other person.

  “How’s it going?” asked the Marine, over Tartov’s shoulder.

  He never heard her or the alarms still blaring through the ship. He was just too focused on what he was doing.

  With a loud crash, the door to the bridge blew apart. Sheridan and the Marine with him tossed a pair of grenades through the jagged entrance and took cover once more. Two seconds later, the grenades went off. Sheridan waited a few seconds more and then warily edged his way forward. Smoke hung heavy in the bridge as he stepped inside. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw something move. He pivoted on his feet and saw a wounded Kurgan officer trying to bring a pistol up. The Kurgan died where he was standing when the Marine with Sheridan fired a three-round burst into him.

  The scene inside the frigate’s bridge was one Sheridan would never forget. Kurgan officers and Chosen crewmen lay sprawled about. Blood and gore covered everything. Sheridan moved from body to body, checking if any of them had survived the blasts. He was not surprised to find that they were all dead.

  He keyed his mic. “Bridge secure. Tartov send status.”

  The fight to control the ship’s computer abruptly ended. Tartov sat back and stared at the computer screen; it was as if his opponent had just vanished. He heard Sheridan’s voice in his headset and knew why he had won. His foe on the bridge was dead. “Sir, one second,” responded Tartov as he made sure that he had control over the frigate’s database. “Sir, I have what we were after. I am downloading the enemy codes as we speak.”

  Sheridan let out his breath and glanced down at his watch. From beginning to end, the assault had taken less than five minutes. He was impressed. However, before he could congratulate his team and himself for a job well done, they still had to get the codes off the ship and call for the tug.

  Sheridan mentally prepared himself for the second phase of their operation. He pressed his mic. “Okay, Master Sergeant, come over. I want you to look after the wounded while the rest of your team searches the rest of the ship for any survivors.”

  “On our way,” responded Cole.

  “Harry, I want you and your people over here too,” said Sheridan. “First, send the signal for success to the tug and ensure that you bring the deep-space transmitter with you. We may need it.”

  “Yes, sir,” answered Williams.

  Sheridan turned and looked at the only NCO he could spot. “Corporal Gold, I’m going to see how things are going with PO Tartov. When Mister Williams gets here, have him wait on the bridge for me.”

  “Yes, sir,’ said the Marine.

  Sheridan could feel the adrenaline beginning to leave his body. He took several deep breaths to fill his blood with oxygen. With his rifle in his hands, Sheridan left the bridge and began to walk down the corridor in the direction of the computer room. He paid no heed to the bodies at his feet. They would have killed him had they been given the chance. However, they had lost. Such were the fortunes of war.

  Chapter 30

  “Can you do something about that alarm?” Sheridan asked Tartov.

  With the press of a button the ship went silent.

  “Thanks,” said Sheridan. “Do you have the codes?”

  Tartov held up the hard drive. “I’ve got it all. Their codes, fleet disposition, future plans. You name it, sir, it’s all in here.”

  Sheridan smiled. “Do you know if they managed to send a warning back to their fleet?”

  Tartov typed away on the keyboard for a few seconds. “No, doesn’t look like it.”

  “Great work.”

  Jenner stepped forward. “Sir, Staff Sergeant Chang was killed during the assault. What do you want us to do with his body?”

  “Have it placed in a transport bag and left at the airlock,” replied Sheridan.

  “Yes, sir.” Jenner turned and sent two Marines to look after Chang’s body.

  Sheridan was about to ask Cole for an update when he heard a loud explosion, followed almost immediately by a violent shaking of the captured ship. He staggered back and had to grab a hold of Tartov’s chair to prevent him from falling to the floor.

  Cole’s voice came over Sheridan’s headset. “Sir, there has been an explosion at the airlock. The docking arm has been torn in two. It looks like the inner door on your ship automatically closed. However, I saw several Marines blasted out the door and into space. We are attempting to find them, but it does not look good.”

  Sheridan did not need to be told. If the Marines somehow survived the explosion, they were wearing survival suits, not space suits. They had no maneuver unit to help them move about in space. If Cole’s people did not find them fast, the Marines would be lost.

  “Do your best, Master Sergeant,” said Sheridan. He waited a moment befor
e speaking again. “Mister Williams, report.”

  There was no response.

  “Mister Williams, report your status.”

  Sheridan became acutely aware that the only sound he could hear was his own breathing.

  The silence was broken when a Marine reported. “Sir, this is Private Kowalski, I’m at the airlock door. There’s no sign of Mister Williams or the other men with them. I think they were all in the docking arm when the explosion occurred.”

  Sheridan closed his eyes. The man he once thought of as a brother was dead. He reached for a chair and sat down. “Kowalski, how is the outer door? Can that airlock still be used?”

  “No, sir. The outer door looks buckled.”

  Sheridan shook his head. It had all been going to plan.

  Cole broke into the conversation. “Sir, we only found one body and by the looks of the injuries he sustained, he was killed by the blast.”

  Sheridan feared to ask. “Do you know who it is?”

  “Lance-Corporal Nguyen, sir.”

  “Master Sergeant, there is no need for you to remain out there anymore. Come aboard using the airlock on the starboard side of the ship.”

  “On our way.”

  Sheridan stood up. He picked up his rifle and walked out of the room. He looked down the corridor and began to walk. His mind was in a haze. Harry Williams had not been as good an officer as Sheridan had hoped for, but he still was his closest friend. He could not believe that he was gone. At the starboard airlock, Sheridan waited with a Marine while Cole and his people came onboard.

  After the outer doors had closed, the inner door slid open. Cole stepped inside. “Sorry about your friend, sir.”

  Sheridan nodded. “How bad does it look out there?”

  “Well, we’ll never get back onto our old ship. It’s already kilometers away and won’t stop until it hits something or is pulled into a planet’s orbit.”

  “Let’s hope the tug gets here before we run out of oxygen.”

  “Sir, do you know if Mister Williams sent a message to the tug before the explosion?” queried Cole.

  “I asked him to.”

  “Yeah, but do you know if he did?”

  Sheridan shook his head. “I think we had best go on the assumption that he did not. How badly damaged is the frigate’s comms array?”

  “Sir, as per the plan, we blasted it into a million pieces.”

  Sheridan swore. “So unless we find a way to reach the tug, we have twenty-three to forty-seven hours of air left, depending on your suit, before we all die.”

  “Looks that way.”

  “Well, I didn’t come all the way out here to die like this,” said Sheridan. “Master Sergeant, please do a head count and then join me on the bridge.”

  “What are you going to do, sir?”

  “With Tartov’s help, I’m going to see if we can get a message out. Failing that, I’m gonna fire up the sub-light engines and start to fly home. We’re not done yet.”

  Chapter 31

  Tarina looked out the cockpit of her fighter and watched as the five other ships assigned to the mission lined up around her.

  It had not taken much persuading to get Colonel Wright to sign off on her plan. After Rose’s death, everyone in the squadron was looking for a little payback. The problem was that the Kurgans had changed their tactics. Along with jump fighters, they were now deploying regular fighters to protect their transport ships. It was one of those craft that had caught Rose and her partner before they could jump back to safety.

  Colonel Wright’s voice came over the ships’ speakers, “Okay, folks, this is a dangerous but vital mission. I need you to find and blast out of the stars that Kurgan transport vessel and her complement of fighters before any more of our people are killed. Good luck and good hunting. Wright out.”

  Wendy spoke, “All stations, we are jumping in three-two-one.”

  In an instant, all six fighters vanished from underneath their ship. Precisely, fifty-seven minutes later, all six ended their jump.

  “My God, that’s enormous,” said Tarina as she looked at TD-13309. Composed mainly of hydrogen and helium, the gas giant was five times larger than Jupiter.

  “The scope is clear,” reported Wendy. “No sign whatsoever of enemy activity.”

  “Okay then. Time to get to work,” said Tarina as she brought the nose of her fighter around and flew straight for an ice-covered moon. When she was on the far side of the moon, she turned off the engines and all excess power. They were practically invisible to any sensor system sweeping the space around TD-13309.

  The other ships had also taken up station around similar sized moons ringing the massive planet. It was now a waiting game, and one Tarina hoped would turn out in their favor.

  Chapter 32

  “Sir, we have four missing and unaccounted for Marines,” reported Cole. “Staff Sergeant Chang and Lance-Corporal Nguyen are dead. Private Koch was shot through both legs and has lost a lot of blood, but he should make it.”

  “Any Kurgan survivors?” asked Sheridan.

  “No, sir. Those that were not killed in the battle died when the life support system failed.”

  “Thanks, Master Sergeant,” said Sheridan wearily. He took a seat at the ship’s navigation console and rested his weapon on his legs.

  “Sir, I think we may be able to transmit a message back to the tug,” announced Tartov.

  Sheridan’s flagging spirit changed for the better. “How?”

  “I believe that I can adjust the frequency of the ship’s sensor array and send a signal that way. It won’t be a verbal message. It will be more like an old-fashioned ping that ships used to send out when they were hunting submarines. The tug should hear the ping and come to investigate.”

  “Do it and make sure that you aim it back toward Illum Prime and not Kurgan space. We don’t want any more unexpected guests showing up.”

  “Sir, I can set the sensor to automatic. How often would you like the signal sent?”

  “Every ten seconds until the tug arrives.”

  “Best news I’ve heard all day,” said Cole. “I don’t think I can stand another day in this monkey suit.”

  Sheridan nodded. “Me too. Now, let’s hope they hear it and come looking.”

  At first it sounded like a distant voice from a dream. However, the voice grew louder and clearer by the minute in Sheridan’s headset. He had been sitting on the bridge with Cole and Tartov when the transmission first started.

  “Tartov, is there anything in the scanner?” Sheridan asked.

  “Uh . . . yes, sir. Yes, there is,” said Tartov.

  “What is it?” Cole asked.

  “It looks like a large vessel headed our way.”

  “The tug?”

  “It has to be,” said Sheridan. “It’s very weak but it sounds like someone is trying to reach me on my headset.”

  “Captain Sheridan, this is Captain Lyons, commanding officer of the tug Donaldson, please respond,” said the voice clearly in his helmet.

  “Sweet hallelujah, it’s good to hear from you,” answered Sheridan. “What took you so long?”

  “We got your signal but did not know if it was really from you or an enemy vessel trying to lure us in,” explained Lyons. “We jumped into the star system a few thousand kilometers back just to make sure. Do you have the package?”

  “Aye, sir, we most definitely do.”

  “We will maneuver to take you in tow.”

  “Thanks, sir.”

  “What is your condition? Do you have any casualties that require immediate attention?”

  “Sir, we have one man who will need to be transferred over as soon as possible,” explained Sheridan. “Also, the life support is off over here. So we either transfer everyone over there or you send over extra oxygen packs for my Marines and me.”

  “I’d prefer to bring you all onboard my ship. Once we have you in tow, I’ll make arrangements to transfer everyone over here.”

  “Ver
y good, sir.”

  Less than a minute later, the tug came to a halt less than two kilometers from the Kurgan frigate.

  “Now there’s a sight for sore eyes,” said Cole.

  “Sure is,” said Sheridan. “Round up the Marines and let’s get ready to transfer over to the tug.”

  A red light flashed on a console in front of Tartov. “Sir, something’s wrong.”

  “What is it?” asked Sheridan.

  “An outer missile door has opened. Someone has locked a missile on the tug!” reported Tartov.

  “Stop it!” yelled Sheridan.

  “I’m trying, sir. There’s only so much I can do with all of this automation.”

  A troubled voice filled Sheridan’s ears. “Sheridan, what are you doing? Stand down that missile,” ordered Lyons.

  The view screen lit up as the missile launched. There was no way the tug, with no shields and almost no defensive weapons of any kind, could stop the incoming projectile. In under three seconds, the warhead struck the tug in the middle, blasting it in two.

  Sheridan and Cole stood there staring at the screen while the Donaldson blew apart. Dozens of smaller explosions ripped through the doomed vessel killing anyone who had survived the initial blast.

  “My God,” muttered Tartov.

  Sheridan clenched his fists tight against his side. “Master Sergeant, take a squad of Marines and head to the armory. I want you to take alive whoever is in there and fired that missile.”

  “On my way, sir,” replied Cole as he picked up his rifle and ran out of the bridge.

  “Now what do we do, sir?” moaned Tartov. “We’re going to run out of air long before we make it back to the fleet.”

  Sheridan was in no mood to listen to Tartov’s bellyaching. He knew how dire their situation was. The last thing he needed right now was someone reminding him. “PO, get the sub-light engines working and lay in a course for Illum Prime.”