Renegade (The Kurgan War Book 7)

  RENEGADE

  The Kurgan War—Book 7

  By Richard Turner

  ©2016 by Richard Turner

  Published 2016 by Richard Turner

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced without written permission, except for brief quotations to books and critical reviews. This story is a work of fiction. Characters and events are the product of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, is coincidental.

  Table of Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Chapter 40

  Chapter 41

  Chapter 42

  Chapter 43

  Chapter 1

  It was an unusually hot and humid night.

  Colonel Kellik walked out of his command post, looked up at the star-filled sky, and tried to spot his home world from among the millions of glittering lights in the heavens. When he found it, Kellik closed his golden eyes and thought about his family before saying a prayer for victory over the heretics. The word he had recently received from his superiors was far from reassuring. Of the Kurgan star systems still in revolt against the government, one-third had recently accepted the emperor’s offer to return to the Kurgan Empire as full citizens and the freedom to worship as they pleased. Another third were vacillating and would, given enough time, undoubtedly accept the emperor’s offer. The last third had outright refused any accommodation with the empire and had called for outright secession on religious grounds. Kellik was pleased to be a part of the diehards who saw the immutable word of the Lord Kurgan as the only way to live their lives. Anything else was sacrilege.

  He surveyed his battle outpost and was happy with what he saw. His Chosen battalion had built a fortification which could resist any direct assault by ground forces in far greater numbers than their own. Mines, anti-armor ditches, and obstacles were carefully sited to channel an attacking force into pre-registered kill zones. Kellik was satisfied he could hold out against an infantry division until reinforcements arrived from the capital to bolster his defense.

  In the center of the camp was a mine dug deep into the ground. It was worked by humans taken during the first few months of the war when the Kurgan Empire had easily overrun vast stretches of Terran space. The Kurgans who had fought in it termed it the “golden days”; the days before the humans learned to fight back and brought the war to a screeching halt. The strain on the empire soon became too much and religious fissures, long suppressed among the citizens, broke apart, leading to a brutal civil war. Unlike the government forces who were trying to broker a lasting peace treaty with the Terrans, the rebels had no intention of coming to an agreement with a lesser species. Nor were they going to free any of the human colonists taken prisoner who now toiled in their mines. To people like Kellik, they didn’t have the same rights as those Terrans who had chosen to become Kurgan citizens.

  Kellik walked back to his office and took a seat. There were a couple of Kurgan officers on duty along with a dozen or so Chosen soldiers who worked the computers and communications systems. Kellik was restless. Things in this sector of rebel space had been quiet for months. A probe by government ships that lasted less than an hour was the only military activity ever to occur above Ke-421.

  “Sir, the cargo ship Kyriton has arrived in orbit and is asking for permission to land,” reported one of the duty officers.

  “Are there any other ships in our region of space?” asked Kellik.

  “No, sir. I only have the Kyriton on my scope.”

  “Very good. Have her begin her descent, and please pass on my compliments to Captain Kollar.”

  The officer looked over at a Chosen soldier who nodded and passed along the necessary landing instructions to the cargo ship.

  “Shall I have the Terran prisoners woken so they can be waiting at the landing pad to load the ship?” asked the officer.

  “Yes,” replied Kellik. “This time around, Lieutenant Karn, make sure they’re guarded well. Three of them managed to hide in the hold of the last cargo ship to land here. Thankfully, they were found and ejected out into space for trying to escape.”

  “Yes, sir. I will have Number One Company assigned the duty of guarding the prisoners.”

  “Understand this, Mister Karn, Perlinium is more precious than life itself. Our war effort hinges on mines like this one to keep the ore flowing.”

  “Yes, sir. I understand.”

  Kellik wondered if Karn did understand or was merely saying what he thought his superior wanted to hear. In the big picture, it didn’t matter. As long as he did his job, and did it well, Kellik would be pleased. He placed a hand on the young officer’s shoulder. “Lieutenant, let’s have the camp go to yellow alert.”

  The young officer looked over at a grizzled-looking Chosen non-commissioned officer. “Yellow Alert, Sergeant. All camp personnel are to man their defensive positions, immediately.”

  The sergeant hit a button on his desk and an alarm rang throughout the camp. Chosen soldiers who had been fast asleep jumped from their bunks and hurried to get dressed. The soldiers had drilled incessantly over the past few months and knew if they didn’t rush to their duty station there would be hell to pay once the dust had settled.

  Kellik walked outside and watched his battalion make ready to receive the cargo ship and to defend the mine if necessary. He was a perfectionist who expected his officers to pay as much attention to detail as he did.

  Within minutes, the camp was ready. The human prisoners were roused from their beds and pushed into two long lines by their guards. Many of them, suffering the effects of hunger and dehydration, wobbled on unsteady feet. Those who fell to the ground were pulled away from their comrades and summarily shot on the spot. No one resisted anymore. Their spirits had been broken long ago.

  “Stand by to receive cargo vessel Kyriton,” said a voice over the base’s speaker system.

  Kellik strode to the landing pad and looked up into the clear night sky. He could see the ship coming straight down toward the camp.

  Inside the command post Lieutenant Karn watched the ship on one of the holographic projectors. With ships coming and going on a bi-monthly basis, things had become routine. He drummed his fingers on the table and checked the time. He would be off duty in less than an hour. His stomach rumbled. Karn hadn’t eaten in close to twelve hours and was looking forward to a hot meal in the officers’ mess tent.

  All of a sudden, the power all over the post switched off for a split second before coming back on.

  “What the hell just happened?” asked Karn.

  “Sir, I don’t know. I’m checking all of our computer systems,” said a Chosen corporal, furiously typing away on his computer keyb
oard.

  Karn looked over the corporal’s shoulder and tried to follow along. He wasn’t as computer literate as some of his fellow officers and soon became lost as the Chosen soldier went from system to system, analyzing them for faults.

  The Kyriton was a standard Kurgan Fleet cargo ship. The ship was just over two hundred meters long and had a large storage hold which would be lowered from the body of the vessel to the ground to allow rapid loading and unloading of cargo.

  Kellik watched as the ship slowed before coming to a halt right over the landing pad. The Kyriton hovered in the air while its sturdy landing gear lowered underneath the ship. The down blast from the Kyriton’s engines created a blisteringly hot wind which stirred up the dust and rocks beneath it into a swirling red haze which enveloped the ship. Kellik turned away, closed his eyes, and held his breath as the cloud washed over him. When the cloud dissipated, Kellik saw the ship sitting on the landing pad. The long box-like storage bay detached from the body of the vessel and lowered to the ground. A ramp dropped down and three people walked out. One was a Kurgan officer and the other two were Chosen soldiers. Kellik saw them, waved, and walked toward them.

  “Sir, there’s nothing wrong with our equipment,” reported the corporal to Kern.

  “So, what caused the power to go on and off?” asked the young lieutenant.

  “There are only two possibilities: We had a power surge and the equipment acted correctly by turning itself off. But I’ve already checked the camp’s power source, and there wasn’t a power surge.”

  “And the second possibility?”

  “Sir, we’re being jammed.”

  Kern’s stomach dropped. “Scan the local area to see if there are enemy ships in orbit above us.”

  The corporal stood and looked his superior in the eyes. “Sir, if we’re being jammed, we’d be the last to know.”

  Kern spun on his heel, ran out of the tent, and looked up at the stars. An unsettling feeling gnawed at his guts. He reached for his communicator to call Colonel Kellik but saw there was no signal. There was no doubt about it now: they were being jammed. Kern gnashed his razor-sharp teeth and threw the radio at the ground, shattering it into a dozen pieces. He let out an anguished cry as he ran toward the landing pad. Kern had to warn his superior before it was too late and all hell fell on the installation.

  “Good morning, Commander,” Kellik said in greeting to the ship’s Kurgan officer. “Is Captain Kollar not onboard?”

  “No, sir,” replied the commander. “He had an allergic reaction to something he ate on Kuron-5, which nearly killed him.”

  “Oh, I hadn’t heard. I hope he gets better soon.

  “He was walking around when we left port. I suspect he’ll be in command the next time we come here to fill our cargo hold.”

  Kellik nodded. “When you see him, please pass on my greetings and tell him to quit loafing around and get back to work.”

  “Will do, Colonel. Sir, I don’t wish to seem all business, but are your people ready to start loading the Perlinium?”

  “That they are.” Kellik turned and waved at one of his captains. Right away, Chosen soldiers barked orders at the human prisoners who picked up the boxes of ore and trudged with their heads down to the open ramp.

  “Sir, someone’s trying to get your attention,” said the ship’s commander, pointing at a Kurgan officer running toward them, frantically waving his hands in the air.

  Lieutenant Kern came to a sliding halt at the ramp. He took a deep breath and blurted out, “Colonel, we’re bring jammed.”

  “Mister Kern, that’s impossible, our sensor equipment would have detected any attempt by the enemy to jam us,” said Kellik.

  “I’m afraid he’s right,” said the ship’s commander before drawing his blade from his belt and thrusting it between the armored plates protecting Kellik’s stomach. He twisted the knife over.

  Kern’s eyes went wide. Before he could react, one of the Chosen soldiers pulled a hidden pistol from behind his back and shot him in the head at point-blank range.

  Kellik slid to his knees. His hands wrapped around the blade stuck in his guts. It felt as if his stomach was on fire. He couldn’t understand what was going on. Kellik looked up and shook his head.

  “Rot in hell, you traitorous scum,” snarled the commander as he kicked Kellik to the ground with his boot.

  Major Michael Sheridan reached for his communicator. “Sierra-One, this is Sierra-Six, the game is in play. I say again, the game is in play.”

  A voice boomed from speakers attached to the outside of the ship. “Human prisoners, drop to the ground and stay there until the fighting is over. Get down and stay down!”

  From behind Sheridan, four massive five-meter-tall mechanized Guardian fighting machines appeared. They strode out and took up positions covering the four corners of the cargo bay. Controlled by a skilled operator, the Guardians had a powerful engine which helped the heavy machines move. They had thick armor and were equipped with a 30mm chain gun under each arm and a bank of missiles mounted on top of the lethal fighting machines. As planned, they drew fire from the Chosen gun positions. It wasn’t a fair fight. Impervious to small-arms fire, the Guardians stood there and calmly blasted their opponents to pieces.

  Marines in full-battle order came next. They didn’t need to be told what to do. The instant they saw the Chosen soldiers they broke down into fire teams and engaged the enemy.

  Captain Alan Cole placed his pistol back in its holster and held his hand out. A young Marine ran over and gave him his assault rifle.

  “What do you want me to do?” the Kurgan imposter asked Sheridan.

  “You’ve done your part, Captain,” replied Sheridan. “Get back to the bridge and coordinate our jump out of here with the flight crew.”

  “Yes, sir,” said the captain, turning to leave.

  “After six straight months of this, I still can’t get used to working with the Kurgans like this,” said Cole.

  “I thought your new rank would be the problem, not that,” teased Sheridan.

  “Yeah, well, your father has a lot to answer for as well.”

  “Come on, you earned your battlefield commission.” Sheridan started to take a step off the ramp.

  Cole reached out and stopped him. “Major, let your company commanders do their job. The last thing they need are you and I trying to fight their battles for them.”

  Sheridan knew his friend was right but when he heard gunfire his blood tended to get up, and he wanted to join the fight. He crossed his arms and listened to the fight coming over the comms channels in his headset.

  “Sierra-Six, we have incoming,” reported his fire effects officer, sitting on the bridge.

  Sheridan saw a brief flash of light from the tail of the missiles as they streaked out of the night sky toward their targets. The ground shook as the missiles hit home. In the blink of an eye, every command post, heavy weapons system, and power generator vanished in a fiery red and orange explosion. Fired from the Terran Navy missile cruiser, Ukrayina, high in orbit, some of the deadly projectiles had thermobaric warheads which incinerated their targets in a wall of super-heated flames.

  Unable to stand still any longer while people fought and died meters away from the ship, Sheridan grabbed a rifle and ran to join the fight.

  “For God’s sake follow him and keep him alive,” said Cole to a Marine squad leader.

  The sergeant nodded and took off running with his people close behind him.

  Cole shook his head. His friend was rash to the point of foolhardy. He stepped down onto the red dirt and looked around. The camp was on fire. Tall black plumes of smoke spiraled skyward. Apart from a small number of Chosen soldiers fighting for their lives at the far end of the landing pad, the fight had gone their way completely. And that was precisely how he and Major Sheridan had planned it.

  He brought up his binoculars and looked at the terrified prisoners lying out in the open. It was time. Cole keyed his helmet mic. “Sierr
a-Three, this is Sierra-Six-Alpha, secure the prisoners. I say again, disembark and secure the prisoners.”

  “Sierra-Three, wilco,” replied a female voice.

  Cole moved to one side while Second Lieutenant Lee led her platoon out of the cargo bay and straight toward the captives. The Marines fanned out and established a perimeter around the prisoners. When Cole was satisfied it was safe enough, he spoke into his mic once more. “Okay, Watchdog and Starlight, you’re on deck. Let’s get these people back onto the ship in five minutes or less.”

  A team of military police and medical specialists sprinted past Cole and hurried to help move the prisoners.

  His new position as executive officer of Task Force Sierra-One, a four-hundred-person strong extraction team, was not one Cole would have thought he would be filling when the war began. It did, however, allow him to stay close to his friend and kept them both in the fight, and Cole wouldn’t have it any other way.

  Sheridan jogged over to Bravo Company’s casualty collection point. He shook his head when he saw two bodies covered by bloodied tarps. Nearby, there were four Marines being treated by a couple of corpsmen for minor gunshot wounds.

  Master Sergeant Thomas, the company senior noncom, stood guard over the wounded.

  “Master Sergeant, I’m sorry for your losses,” said Sheridan.