CHOSEN ASCENDECY

  THE KURGAN EMPIRE SERIES

  BOOK 2

  RICHARD TURNER

  CHOSEN ASCENDANCY

  The Kurgan Empire – Book 2

  By Richard Turner

  Copyright ©2023 by Richard Turner

  Published 2023 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.

  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 44

  Chapter 45

  Chapter 46

  Chapter 47

  1

  The melodic chime from an ancient clock, sitting on a collapsible table covered with half-eaten meals and empty liquor bottles, announced it was 1800 hours, and therefore quitting time.

  Can life get any better than this? thought Slaver Killor. He switched off his computer, got to his feet, and let out a loud, wet belch. Then, chuckling, he rubbed a hand over his ample belly and smiled. It was high time that things started to go his way. It wasn’t that he liked his job, but he disliked poverty more.

  Suddenly, a shiver went down Killor’s spine, as if he were being watched. He edged over, opened his office’s blinds, and suspiciously peered outside. It would be his luck if a rival business’ surveillance drone was hovering near his office. However, aside from a couple of drunks singing to themselves in the alleyway below his office, the coast was clear. He hurriedly locked away all his confidential documents in a blast-proof safe hidden in the wall behind his desk, and switched off the light. Finally, after twenty long, hard years in the business of trading and selling Chosen citizens for a living, he was ready to retire. A less-than-honest man, Killor had been falsifying his business records to avoid paying his fair share of credits needed to keep the secret base he lived on well-guarded and off the empire’s star charts. As a result, no one was aware that Killor had stashed away a fortune in credits, more than enough for him to live in absolute luxury on a pleasure planet until the day he died.

  Tonight was shaping up to be something special. Killor had reserved a table at his favorite restaurant, and a young escort, fresh on the planet, would be there waiting for him to help celebrate the night away. In anticipation, he rubbed his hands together and hurried from his office to get changed into a looser-fitting, less-odorous, and much cleaner set of body armor before dinner.

  “Alarm—alarm. Unidentified incoming vessels!” boomed a voice over the base’s speakers.

  “What the hell?” muttered Killor, hurrying down a street filled with garbage. The stench wafting from the rotting refuse was enough to make a person sick, but Killor had long ago grown accustomed to the smell.

  “All base defense personnel to their action stations immediately! I say again, all base defense personnel to their action stations immediately!”

  Killor stopped dead in his tracks and looked up at an image projected in the air by a media drone, showing dozens of ships coming out their jumps right above the ice-bound planet. A horrid feeling gripped his guts. The vessels appeared to be from the imperial fleet, but something about them didn’t look quite right.

  Years of living silently among the stars of the outer rim in what many believed was the perfect hiding spot had made the installation’s security personnel lazy, and a shadow of their former selves. At the sound of the alarm, many staggered out of several seedy bars, barely knowing what day it was, let alone where to report for duty. They rubbed their eyes and stared in disbelief at the fleet of incoming warships.

  “What’s going on?” asked a Kurgan trader, stumbling over the body of a drunken defense technician lying facedown on the muddy ground.

  “I don’t know,” replied Killor tersely. “But whatever it is doesn’t look good.”

  “Is the empire here?” stammered the man.

  “I’m not sure. Those ships don’t look right.”

  “What are we going to do?”

  Killor ignored the trader and watched the ships move into attack formations right above their allegedly hidden base. His gut clenched tight. Even before a single shot was fired, Killor knew the settlement and everyone in it was doomed. He pushed the terrified vendor aside and tried to run. But, like so many of his contemporaries, Killor had neglected his health. With each step, Killor’s gut bounced up and down, and the jowls on his fat face flew from side to side. In under a minute, he was winded and had to slow to a walk. He yanked a towel from a merchant’s cart and tossed the woman a credit. Killor struggled to catch his breath while wiping the sweat from his leathery face.

  People around him stood and stared helplessly at the picture of dozens of troopships disgorging their landing ships.

  “Why don’t we just surrender?” cried a frightened Kurgan teen.

  “Surrender to whom?” replied Killor. “I don’t think those are imperial ships.”

  “Don’t worry,” said a retired soldier with an eyepatch over his right eye, holding a tall stein of cold beer in his hands. “We’re kilometers deep underground, and the blast doors barring the entrance to the base are impenetrable. So you see, we’re quite safe down here.”

  Killor didn’t share the old soldier’s optimism. To him, the arrival of an enemy fleet marked the end of a good and quiet life.

  “Watch,” said the soldier. “The base’s missile and gun batteries will make short order of those incoming transport ships.”

  Killor’s mouth turned drier than the hottest desert in the empire as the invasion fleet grew close. He prayed the old warrior knew what he was talking about, and that he was wrong. But he wasn’t. Plasma weapons on the large enemy cruisers opened fire, clearing a path for the dropships. Nothing the base had in its arsenal could resist the precision fire of the enemy ships. Whole waves of defensive missiles were vaporized before they got anywhere near the incoming transports. Next, the gun batteries and their crews died under an onslaught of precision-guided plasma torpedoes.

  Suddenly the station darkened, and an ear-shattering explosion shook the base. People cried out in terror as the ground shook under their feet and dust fell from the cave ceiling. A second later, emergency lights activated, bathing everyone in red.

  A bitterly cold wind whipped past Killor’s face. “No!” he said, dropping to his knees. “Why today?” he moaned. He didn’t have to be told that the blast doors were gone. They were doomed.

  2

  “Commander Jones, what’s our Status?” asked Tanaka, hands clasped behind his back, staring intently at the viewscreen on the bridge of the newly renamed battle cruiser, Boudica.

  “The first wave is well underway and will be landing in five minutes from now,” reported Jones, the vessel’s captain. He was a lean, balding man in his early thirties, who had seized control of the ship during the uprising on the doomed Prince Kurak’s homeworld.

  Tanaka stood and adjusted his black uniform tunic. His cold, dark eyes studied every detail on the ship’s screen. “Enemy resistance?”

  Jones shook his head. “As expected, the base’s defenses were designed around out-of-date equipment and tactics.”

  “Commander, are there any signs of imperial vessels in this quadrant?”

  “None, sir. It looks like we’re all alone out here.”

  “Excellent. I’m going down with the second wave. Have my guests meet me in my shuttle.”

  Jones got out of his chair and stepped close. He lowered his voice and respectfully asked, “Sir, are you sure that’s a good idea?”

  “Yes, I do,” replied Tanaka firmly.

  “Sir, we have no idea of the enemy’s strength inside the planet. Maybe you should let the first wave do their job before going down?”

  Tanaka shook his head and placed a hand on his comrade’s shoulder. “I’ll be fine. Keep the fleet on alert while I’m gone. The last thing we need is a surprise visit by the imperial fleet while we’re still mopping up the enemy resistance.”

  Jones stood to attention. “Yes, sir.”

  Tanaka grinned. “I’ll see you in a few hours, Commander Jones.”

  Jones hesitated and slowly raised a hand. “Sir, with all due respect, this is our first major combat operation since the rebellion, so might I convince you to act cautiously regarding your guests
?”

  Tanaka let out an exasperated sigh. “What are you suggesting, Commander?”

  “For your safety, it might be wise to place restraining collars on both of them, sir. Then, if they do nothing wrong, they can easily be removed.”

  Tanaka knew Jones was a naturally cautious man but saw the wisdom in his words. “Commander, if it will ease your mind, have it done. Is there anything else you would like to discuss before I leave?”

  “Yes, sir, there is.”

  Tanaka instantly regretted his choice of words. “Whatever it is, please make it quick, Commander; I’ve got a battle to win.”

  “Sir, some of the men have been asking me why you didn’t have that Kurgan Sergeant killed with all the others back on Kurak’s homeworld. To be honest, sir, I don’t have a good answer to give them. Had I been in your shoes, I would have strung him up by his neck until he died.”

  Tanaka glanced around the bridge and saw everyone was watching him, waiting to hear what he had to say. He raised his voice slightly. “Commander, the answer is quite simple. The sergeant’s alive because I need him. Like his Terran companion, he’s a valuable propaganda tool. As you’re fully aware, I had all of the other Kurgan officers and NCOs killed during the rebellion to prevent them from interfering in my future plans. The same fate awaits anyone who is involved in the slave trade while we liberate our brothers and sisters in the outer rim. After that, we can’t continue to kill Kurgans out of hand, as this is a war to secure our freedom and rights within the empire, not a genocidal campaign.”

  “Yes, sir, but—”

  Tanaka raised a hand. “Commander, please, this discussion is over. I know what I’m doing. Have faith that everything will work as planned.”

  Jones came sharply to attention. “Yes, sir. I’m sorry. Please forgive my impertinence.”

  “None required. I expect my officers to speak what’s on their minds. It’s the proper thing to do. Now, is there anything else we need to discuss?”

  Jones shook his head. “No, sir. Except to say good luck down there.”

  “Thank you, Commander.” Tanaka turned and left the bridge, followed closely by his heavily armed, two-man security detail.

  Alan Sheridan sat up and listened to the voices coming from the other side of the sealed door. Then, warily, he stood and ran a hand over the dark whiskers on his face. It had been nearly two weeks since he had shaved. Normally a stickler for dress and deportment, Alan had long grown accustomed to not shaving and wearing wrinkled combat coveralls.

  “It sounds like Tanaka wants to see us,” said Kimar, listening with one ear to the door.

  Alan clapped his hands together. “It’s about bloody time. I’m tired of being cooped up in here.”

  Kimar glanced at his cellmate, and sniffed the air with an unpleasant look on his scarred, leathery face. “I think you could also do with a long, hot shower. Much like your Chosen brethren, Terrans begin to smell after a while. You may not notice it, but I do.”

  Alan lowered his head and took a whiff of his clothes. “I don’t smell that bad.”

  Kimar pinched his nose. “As I said, you’ve grown accustomed to your less-than-pleasant odor.”

  “Look who’s speaking,” retorted Alan. “You’re not much better.”

  “Me? It’s a fact that Kurgans don’t smell as bad as Terrans. Do you think I like being cooped up in here with you for weeks on end?”

  Alan shook his head. “Get real, Sergeant. I’m the only thing keeping you alive right now, and that’s a fact. So, if my body odor offends you, you’re free to ask to leave whenever you want. Just be careful of that first step out of the airlock into outer space. It’ll be your last.”

  The cell door slid open, and an armed guard walked inside. He tossed two restraining collars on the closest bunk and snapped his fingers. “Put those on, and then follow me.”

  Alan picked up the metal collar and reluctantly secured it around his neck. He faced the guard and asked, “Where are we going?”

  “General Tanaka wants the two of you to join him on the planet’s surface,” responded the guard, drawing his pistol. “Now, let’s get a move on!”

  Alan boarded a mid-sized shuttle and took a seat near the front of the craft. He sat back in his chair and tugged at the restraining collar around his neck. “I feel like a damned dog wearing this,” he muttered.

  “Be happy it’s there and not elsewhere,” quipped Kimar, taking a seat. “If I were you, I wouldn’t play with your collar. I think we’re wearing an older model of a standard-issue imperial restraining collar. If I remember right, the fleet got rid of them because they had a habit of going off for no reason. If it does, it will shock you with enough power to make you lose control of your muscles and void your bowels.”

  “Great,” muttered Alan, lowering his hand.

  As soon as the last soldier was on board, the shuttle door was raised and locked in place. The image of an icy planet appeared on a viewscreen.

  “Sadly, that place looks familiar,” said Kimar.

  Alan shuddered. “Do you think the guy who sabotaged our ship will still be there?”

  “One can hope.”

  The planet vanished from the screen, replaced with Tanaka’s smiling face. “Good evening, gentlemen,” he said. “I hope you are both well?”

  “Fine enough, I guess,” replied Alan, about to absentmindedly reach up and tug at his collar.

  “If you both promise to behave yourselves inside the enemy base, I’ll have those restraints removed. Is it a deal?”

  Alan eagerly flashed a thumbs up. “Yeah, it’s a deal.”

  Tanaka nodded. A second later, the screen went dark.

  “I have this horrible feeling that Tanaka will be the death of us someday,” said Kimar in a low voice.

  “You may be right,” said Alan. He lowered his voice and continued. “But for now, let’s play along until we can find a way to escape.”

  “Hang on, everyone,” announced the pilot over the ship’s speakers. “We’ll be tagging along with the second wave of troops. I doubt we’ll experience any enemy fire, but just to be careful, I’ll be doing evasive maneuvers all the way to the planet’s surface.”

  Kimar placed a hand on his stomach. “I think I’m going to regret eating a big meal for supper.”

  As they approached the planet’s surface, the mood inside the shuttlecraft grew tense. Alan watched as the rebel Chosen soldiers checked and rechecked their weapons to ensure they were armed and operational.

  “Check it out,” said Kimar, nudging Alan in the arm.

  Alan looked up at the screen. The shuttle was approaching the base’s destroyed steel outer doors. Black smoke, like so many funeral pyres, rose from dozens of demolished missile and gun emplacements guarding the entrance to the installation. Alan wasn’t surprised that the enemy hadn’t succeeded in shooting down a single rebel landing craft during the invasion. From the very moment Tanaka’s fleet came out of its jump the ill-equipped opposition never stood a chance.

  The shuttle flew inside the vast mountain base and landed next to Tanaka’s personal landing craft. The soldiers unbuckled themselves, moved to the back door, and jogged out, led by their sergeant.

  “On your feet,” ordered Alan and Kimar’s guard.

  Alan stood and made his way out of the craft and onto the cold, concrete floor of the landing pad. A bitterly cold wind whipped past him, sending snow twirling like mini-tornadoes across the ground.

  “Here, put these on,” said a rebel soldier, tossing Alan and Kimar a pair of warm parkas to wear.