Trident Fury (The Kurgan War Book 3) Read online

  Chapter 29

  At the bottom of the mine, a long line of prisoners snaked down a darkened tunnel and then out onto the train platform. Heavily armed Chosen guards walked up and down the column pushing and beating the people to keep them from trying to escape.

  “I don’t understand why they are doing this to us,” said the frightened teenage crewman at Tarina’s side.

  “It’s some Kurgan ritual,” replied Tarina. “What’s your name?”

  “Crewman Jones, ma’am.”

  “I think we can dispense with rank. What’s your first name?”

  “Mike. My name is Mike.”

  “Mine is Tarina. Pleased to meet you, Mike.” Tarina looked away and smiled. She wished that it was her Michael standing there. If he were, she had no doubt that things would turn out differently.

  A voice boomed out of a speaker mounted on the wall. “Move forward slowly and enter the train cars. Do not attempt to escape or you and the people around you will be killed.”

  “I guess this is it,” said Tarina.

  “I don’t want to die,” stammered Jones.

  Tarina took his hand in hers. “We’re not going to die. I won’t let that happen.”

  “I’m glad I’m with you, Tarina.”

  The line began to move.

  Tarina said, “Keep your head up and never let them see you looking scared.”

  Jones nodded and put on his best face. He went to take a step when the sound of gunfire cut through the air. People screamed and dropped to the ground as a Chosen warrior shot down a couple of men who had attacked another warrior.

  Tarina felt Jones grip her hard so tight that it hurt. She couldn’t blame him, she was scared too.

  “On your feet!” yelled a Chosen sergeant. “Keep moving!”

  Together, they walked forward as calm as they could knowing that each step brought them closer to their deaths.

  The instant the elevator touched the ground, Sheridan jumped over the metal safety bar and sprinted down the tunnel. The sound of distant gunfire reverberated off the rocky walls. Sheridan picked up his pace. He had no idea what he was going to do when he got there, all he knew was that he had to stop the train from leaving. Up ahead, he could see the light shining in the tunnel from the train station. He was almost there when two Chosen soldiers stepped out from behind a wooden barricade and waved at him to stop.

  “You, there, stop,” yelled one of the Chosen.

  Sheridan saw the soldier’s partner raise his rifle and aim it at him. He gritted his teeth, slowed down, and came to a halt at the barricade.

  “Where do you think you are going?” asked the Chosen soldier. Sheridan saw that he was wearing a sergeant’s insignia on his collar. “No one can go in there. The ore loading platform is out of bounds until the train leaves.”

  It hadn’t left. There was still time. Sheridan came to attention. “Sorry, Sergeant, but I was told to report to the train. I’m filling in for another man who is sick. If I don’t get on the train, my officer will have me punished.”

  The sergeant shook his head. “I don’t care. Orders are orders. The only people who can board the train are those from Captain Katulan’s company. Now step back and give me your name so I can check your story.”

  The sergeant’s partner walked closer with his rifle aimed at Sheridan. The sound of the train’s engine powering up told him that he had to act before it was too late. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the barrel of the Kurgan rifle. With lightning-fast reflexes, Sheridan grabbed hold of the rifle barrel and pointed it at the ground. At the same time he reached behind his back, grabbed hold of a hidden knife, and threw it into the unsuspecting sergeant’s chest. The stunned Chosen soldier tried to pull his rifle free only to have Sheridan let go of the barrel. The soldier, not expecting the move, staggered backward. Sheridan reached over and pulled the blade from the dying sergeant’s chest, spun about, and sent it flying into the soldier’s stomach. The man let go of his rifle and reached for the knife protruding from his midsection. His face turned gray as he dropped to his knees with a puzzled look on his face. His last thoughts were: Why would one of our own attack us?

  Sheridan rushed over and pulled the dead sergeant’s pistol from its holster. A second later, he heard the train come to life. He jammed the gun into his belt and ran as fast as he could out onto the station platform. He could see the last train car beginning to move. Like an Olympic sprinter closing in on the finish line, he dug deep and gave it all he could. He ignored the shouts from the other Chosen still standing around on the platform. His mind was focused on one thing and one thing only, getting onto the train. A soldier stepped in front of him and tried to stop him, only to be struck in the chest by Sheridan’s shoulder and sent tumbling to the ground.

  Within seconds, the back of the train was in reach. Sheridan looked up and saw that the last car was about to enter the tunnel heading out into the desert. He had perhaps five seconds before it was gone. With a yell on his lips, he dove for a metal handrail on the back of the train car. Sheridan felt his fingers take hold. He yanked the rest of his body onto a small railing at the back of the train just as it was swallowed up by the darkened tunnel. He scrambled to grab hold of whatever he could with his other hand. Sheridan turned his head and took a quick look behind him. He could see a couple of Chosen warriors standing on the platform pointing at him. They grew smaller by the second and then vanished from sight as the train turned a bend in the pitch-black tunnel. With his heart beating wildly in his chest, Sheridan took a couple of deep breaths to calm himself before trying to see if the backdoor on the car was unlocked. He was relieved to find that the door was open.

  “In for a penny, in for a pound,” he said to himself as he pulled out his stolen pistol and brought it up so he would be ready to react if he ran into trouble. Sheridan pulled open the door and stepped inside. He was surprised to see that the long car was empty. He had expected there to be at least a couple of soldiers sitting there. Rather than dwell on his good luck, Sheridan began to walk forward to the next car. He had no clue how long the train was or where the prisoners were being held. He knew that although trains had become faster, the basic design of trains had not changed over the centuries. Somewhere up front, the locomotive would be controlled by an engineer using a computer to control the train’s speed.

  A door at the other end of the carriage flew open and two Chosen soldiers stormed in with rifles in their hands. Sheridan never hesitated. He dropped to one knee and opened fire. The lead warrior fell with a hole in his chest. The next tried to bring his weapon up to fire but found it unwieldy in the narrow corridor and died from a shot to the head. Sheridan ran forward and checked the bodies. Both were dead. He rummaged through their uniforms for any ammunition for his pistol before moving to the open door. He took a quick look and saw that the door to the next car was closed. A feeling in his gut told him be wary. He had no doubt they knew that he was here and would be waiting for him. Sheridan turned his head and looked back at the two dead Chosen. When he saw their ammunition belts, an idea popped into his mind.

  “What do you think is going on?” Jones asked Tarina as a couple of warriors ran past them to the back of the car and took up positions covering the door.

  “I don’t know, but something has really gotten them spooked,” she replied. All of the prisoners in the car were sitting on the floor. They were being held in three cars that were usually used to transport the ore to the refinery.

  She knew that their best chance of escape had just arrived. With the guards distracted, if she could rally enough people, they could try to overpower the soldiers and stop the train before it reached its destination. Tarina looked around the carriage and saw a tough-looking man with tattoos covering his trunk-like arms whom she knew had to be a Marine.

  “Stay here,” she whispered to Jones before crawling over beside the Marine. She could see him studying the two soldiers by the door. She smiled. He was thinking exactly the same thing she was.
r />   “Hey there,” said Tarina to the man. “We don’t have a lot of time. Are you a Marine, and are you thinking of making a break for it?”

  The man nodded.

  “Are there any other people in here you can trust?”

  “Yeah, a couple.”

  “Good. My name is Captain Pheto and when I give the signal, I want you and your friends to take down those guards.”

  “My name is Sergeant Lee. After we kill them, then what are we going to do, ma’am?”

  Tarina hadn’t thought that far. Before she could say another word, the door at the back of the car erupted in a fiery explosion. Shrapnel flew inward, killing one of the Chosen; the other, stunned by the blast, staggered back from the smoldering debris.

  Sheridan was up on his feet and running for the blown-open door. His plan had worked better than he had anticipated. He had taken two hand grenades from the dead Chosen, jammed them against the door’s lock, activated the grenades, and taken cover. He ran through the smoke and jumped over a jagged piece of the destroyed door, landing inside the next carriage. He saw a warrior try to bring up his rifle and fired off two rounds into the man’s chest, killing him.

  “Michael!” called out a familiar voice.

  “Tarina, is that you? Are you in here?” replied Sheridan. His eyes searched the crowd desperate to find her.

  A second later, from out of the surprised crowd ran Tarina. She dove at Sheridan and threw her arms around his neck and pulled him in tight. Tears began to run down her face. “Oh God, Michael, I thought I would never see you again.”

  He gave her a hug letting her know that he felt the same way. “It’s all right, we’re going to get through this together. A task force will be arriving soon to bring all of you home.”

  “Who the hell are you?” asked Lee, eyeing Sheridan with suspicion as he picked up one of the dead Chosen’s rifles.

  “Captain Michael Sheridan,” he replied, letting go of Tarina. “And you?”

  “Sergeant Lee. I was with the Ninth Marines when I was captured.”

  “Okay listen up, Sergeant, we’ve got to take this train before the Kurgs wise up and send reinforcements. For the moment, I think they believe that I’m one of theirs and have gone nuts. So I’m willing to bet that they still think they can handle the situation.”

  “What do you want to do, sir?”

  “This is a mag-lev train so climbing outside at over five hundred kilometers an hour is a non-starter. Also, trying to go underneath is no good as there won’t be enough clearance from the bottom of the train to the magnetized tracks. We’re going to have to take this train car by car until we get to the control room. The faster we do this, the less chance they’ll have to organize themselves and stop us.”

  Lee squeezed his rifle tight in his hands. “Sounds good to me, sir. After a couple of months of hell, I’m ready to give some of it back.”

  “Does anyone have any idea how many Chosen and Kurgs there are on the train?”

  “Perhaps twenty in total,” said Tarina.

  Sheridan pursed his lips. “Sergeant, round up a couple more people capable of fighting and join me by the door leading to the next carriage. Make sure that you grab the grenades and weapons from these two Chosen,” said Sheridan, pointing at the corpses.

  Lee nodded before bending down to strip off the ammo belt from the nearest body.

  “What do you want me to do, Michael?” asked Tarina.

  “There are more weapons and ammunition laying on the floor of the car behind us. Take someone with you, grab it all, and then fall into line behind the sergeant and me. We’re going to need all the firepower we can muster if we want to pull this off.”

  Tarina nodded and looked at her newly found friend. “Come on, Mike, we’ve got work to do.”

  Jones stood up and moved over to Tarina’s side.

  Sheridan looked at the young crewman. He thought about making a wisecrack about being traded in for a younger man but let it go, for now. He turned and made his way through the crowd to the back door. Lee and two more Marines were waiting for him. “When Captain Pheto gets back here with more Kurgan weapons, I want you to place two grenades against the next door’s lock and arm the devices. When they go off, we rush the next car and shoot anyone who isn’t a prisoner. We keep repeating this until we reach the front of the train.”

  Lee smiled. “My pleasure.”

  Chapter 30

  The rich smell of incense wafted through the air. The light from several ornamental torches flickered as a breeze came inside the crimson-colored tent.

  Colonel Kuhr knelt before a stone altar with a copy of the Kurgan Lord’s Scriptures in his hands. He read out loud the prayer for purification before closing his book. He bowed his head, stood up, and carefully placed his holy book on a nearby table. His copy was nearly four hundred years old and had been handed down from generation to generation. Next to his son fighting somewhere in the galaxy with the Kurgan military, it was his most prized possession. He stepped to the tent opening. Outside he could see hundreds of torches burning in the night, each one marking another tent. He had forbidden anything but traditional means to light the camp to be used. All of their transports and fighting vehicles were parked a couple of kilometers away to give the illusion that they had stepped back in time to when the sacred ceremony had first begun. In a matter of hours, just as the sun rose on the horizon, he would oversee the first wartime Kahtak ritual in over a century. He felt a certain pride knowing that one hundred of his officers and senior sergeants would soon be ascending into the ranks of the Old Guard.

  He put a hand on the hilt of his sword hanging from his waist. Unlike the straight, heavy blades carried by Kurgan officers in line units, those of the Imperial Guard were curved and looked more like a scimitar. His had been his father’s when he had loyally served the empire. Colonel Kuhr had received special permission to bring his entire regiment, all four battalions, to witness the bloodletting ceremony. He intended to form them up so they could watch and rejoice in the ritual as their peers one by one took the life of an enemy combatant.

  “Colonel Kuhr, sorry for interrupting,” said Captain Kazar, Kuhr’s hard working adjutant.

  “What is it, Captain?”

  “I have just received a report that fighting has broken out onboard the train filled with the human prisoners.”

  Kuhr did not like the sound of that. “Captain, what precisely was passed on to you?”

  “The train’s engineer reported that he had heard gunfire and explosions in the cars behind him.”

  Kuhr knew that it could only mean that the prisoners had somehow rebelled and gained access to some of the weapons onboard the locomotive. He regretted not sending more Kurgans along, instead relying on the prison’s poorly trained Chosen warriors to escort the POWs to the camp. “What is Commandant Kodan doing about this?”

  “Sir, I spoke with his deputy and he informed me that a couple of gunships had been dispatched to stop the train.”

  “Kodan is a drunkard and a bloody fool,” said Kuhr. “He can barely manage his prison, let alone try to sort out this mess that he has allowed to happen. Captain, get ahold of Kodan’s deputy and tell him not to engage the train with gunfire. If they do, I will personally cut open Kodan and anyone else I can lay my hands on with my blade. I want all of the human prisoners captured alive.”

  “Yes, sir,” said Kazar, turning to leave.

  “One last thing, Captain, when is the train due to arrive here?”

  Kazar glanced at the watch built into the armor protecting his wrist. “Sir, it should be here in precisely twelve minutes’ time.”

  Kuhr nodded. He watched his adjutant dart away to try and get a handle on the situation. He had hoped for a quiet and dignified ceremony. Now, however, he had to face the facts; he would have to take charge of the situation before it got out of hand. He yelled out, “Sergeant Kurka, report.”

  A couple of seconds later, a grizzled-looking Kurgan soldier with scars runni
ng across his leathery face ran over and stood ramrod straight in front of Kuhr. “Yes, Colonel.”

  “Sergeant Kurka, my old friend, wake the regiment and have the battalion commanders report to me right away.”

  “Yes, sir.” Kurka turned and let out a deafening cry that was taken up by sentries all around the camp. Within in seconds, soldiers rushed from their tents and formed up into their companies and then their battalions.

  It took less than three minutes for the four battalion commanders to arrive at Kuhr’s tent. He waited outside with his hand resting on his sword. He looked into the golden eyes of the men he had handpicked to be in his regiment and had steered their careers every step of the way. He got straight to the point. “Something has gone wrong. It sounds like the train carrying the prisoners has been hijacked or soon will be. What I want is for the train to be retaken with a minimum number of casualties to the humans on board. We need each and every one of them alive for the ritual.”

  His assembled leaders nodded their understanding.

  Kuhr looked at the youngest one and said, “Lieutenant Colonel Kulk, I want you to stop and seize the train intact. No small arms, swords only.”

  Kulk stood tall. “You can count on the Fourth Battalion to do what must be done.”

  “I know. Now report to your battalion and move it to the train station immediately. Don’t waste your time giving any speeches. Attack is the order of the day.”

  Kulk nodded, clicked his heels together, and sprinted off into the night.

  Kuhr said to the remainder, “As for the rest of you, I want you to form up your men and be prepared to assist if necessary.”

  The three other senior officers nodded and left to get their men ready. Kuhr stood alone looking up into the heavens trying to find his home world. When he spotted the flickering speck of light, he closed his eyes and said a prayer to the Lord asking for victory and a speedy resolution to the crisis.