Max Mars
Blade of Vengeance
Tripp Ellis

1
“Run, Riley! Run!" Jake shouted, his eyes wide with terror. He had been in countless life-and-death situations across the galaxy, but none had ever instilled panic quite like this one. The thought of anything happening to his daughter filled him with dread.
Jake struggled with a gunman while Riley raced away. She ran as fast as she could—her legs pumping, her chest heaving for breath, tears streaming down her cheek. The wind flowed through her wavy brown hair as she sprinted through the corridor. Her blue eyes filled with fear. She was fast and nimble—the virtues of youth. But the man chasing her was closing ground.
Riley was a beautiful girl, about to turn 14. Over the past year, smiles hadn’t come easy. Today was supposed to be different. She had spent most of the year feeling like she'd been punched in the gut. Hollowed out and gutted emotionally. She'd frequently wake up in the middle of the night in a cold sweat—heart racing, screaming in terror, the elephant standing on her chest, making every breath impossible. She tried to make sense of what had happened, but there was no making sense of it. It was just life, and she was going to have to learn to deal with it.
Everyone always told her it was going to be fine. It would just take time. They were mostly right. It had taken a year, and she was getting closer to the light at the end of the tunnel. There was always going to be a gaping hole in her heart—the place that only her mother could fill. But she was learning to accept what had happened. She was learning to make the best of the situation life had presented her. She tried not to dwell on all the moments she'd never be able to share with her mother.
Today was supposed to bring some much-needed smiles and fun for both her and Jake. Things had been equally difficult for him, but he was never one to show it. They had spent the day at Pinnacle Park—the last real amusement park in the galaxy. Everything was virtual these days. If you wanted to ride a roller coaster, you could put on a neural ring and log onto the network. The experience would be practically identical. You'd feel every sensory detail—the wind rushing through your hair, your stomach in your throat as you plunged down the undulating slopes, the screams of passengers filling your ears. For most people, it was enough. But there was still something missing about it. It was never going to be quite like the real thing. The element of real danger was missing.
Jake had thought a day at Pinnacle Park would be just the thing he and his daughter needed. And it was, up until the point they got jumped by two goons in a back corridor on Cygnus 7 Station.
With lightning speed, Jake grabbed the barrel of his attacker’s plasma pistol. He put a swift kick into the thug’s groin. The attacker hunched over and Jake launched an uppercut into his chin. The goon's jaw clamped shut, and Jake could hear teeth crack. He stripped the weapon as the thug tumbled back. Jake moved with tactical precision. It was clear he had years of extensive military training.
The creep grabbed for his backup strapped around his ankle. Jake swung the pistol around and took aim, firing a shot. A blistering bolt of plasma spewed from the barrel, drilling through the goon’s shoulder. But the cretin managed to return fire.
The sharp smell of plasma ions filled the air.
The devastating beam punctured Jake's chest, vaporizing his heart. The plasma pistol fell from his hand, clattering against the deck. Jake's eyes filled with disbelief and horror. Then the color drained from his face and lips, and his body flopped to the deck.
The goon staggered to his feet, clutching his wounded shoulder. The heat had cauterized the wound, and there was little bleeding—just the charred spattering of flesh that remained on the bulkhead behind him. It bubbled and oozed, sending gentle wisps of smoke into the air. He staggered down the hallway, looking for his comrade.
Riley sprinted through the passageways, managing to stay ahead of her pursuer. She had reached the crowded food court and was trying to disappear within the sea of people. It was going to be much harder to abduct her in such a public part of the space station.
Riley dashed into a women’s clothing boutique, and ran to the change room. There were rows and rows of dressing stalls. Plenty of places to hide.
The goon chasing her stormed into the boutique. His diabolical brown eyes scanned the area, then he made a beeline for the change room. He was about 6’2”, square jaw, and a flat top haircut. He had a permanent scowl on his face. A healthy scar from an old war wound had carved a canyon across his cheek. He was the kind of guy that dogs bark at, and makes cats hunch their backs.
A sales associate took notice of him, and scurried from behind the register. “Excuse me, sir. You can't go in there.”
He ignored her and pushed by.
“Sir, this dressing area is for women only,” she said, frazzled.
The goon barged into the change room. A woman with brown tortoiseshell glasses exiting one of the stalls screeched in horror at the sight of the guy.
“Sir, I’m calling station security!” the sales attendant shouted.
The goon aimed his plasma pistol at her without looking and fired a shot. The deadly bolt sizzled into her chest. Her body dropped to the deck.
The woman in glasses screeched again and dropped her garments as she clutched her face in shock. Her shrill voice was irritating the goon, but a well-placed plasma bolt remedied the situation.
The thug surveyed the row of stalls. He kicked the first one open—empty. He spun around and kicked open the opposite stall. Again, it was empty—except for a few garments hanging on the rack. He was going to work his way down the rows, one by one, until he found Riley. He had her cornered. There was no escape.
2
Thick smoke wafted across the table as Chesney chewed on a cigar. The cherry glowed orange as he puffed on the stogie dangling from his slimy lips. He stared down his crooked nose at his cards, then his beady eyes flicked across the table to Max. Her expression betrayed nothing.
Chesney hunched over the table, pondering his next move. His thick head disappeared into his wide shoulders. He didn't have much of a neck. You could tell at one point in time he had been a musclebound bruiser. But now the tone was gone, yet the size remained. Still, he wasn’t a man to be trifled with. Two bodyguards stood behind him, strapped with plasma pistols. They took care of most of his dirty work, but Chesney wasn't afraid to get his hands bloody from time to time.
Playing poker with Chesney was taking your life in your own hands. Beating Chesney, though technically not against the rules, was frowned upon.
Max had been beating him all night.
Saying that Max was gorgeous would be like saying that the universe is big. While technically accurate, both phrases would be woefully inadequate. She belonged on the cover of a fashion magazine, not in some sleazy backroom card game with a bunch of thugs. She had high cheekbones, perfect skin, plush lips, and brunette hair. She was the kind of woman that made your pulse quicken and your stomach flutter. Her velvety voice, whispered in your ear, could make you do just about anything she wanted. And with her military training, she was deadly. A real heartbreaker and life-taker.
Part of the disbanded project SW Ultra, Max was a genetically engineered super soldier. She drifted the galaxy, searching for Silas Rage—the man who killed her creator, and spiritual father, Doctor Tor. It was going to be a joyous day indeed when she got her hands on him. But in the meantime, she picked up odd jobs here and there and collected a small military pension, deposited into a numbered account.
There was a large pile of credits in the center of the table. Max had started the game with her meager monthly pension and amassed more credits than she would make in an entire year. It was all on the table.
Chesney had only a stack of credits left. He called the bet and pushed his remaining credits into the pot. Then he displayed his cards on the table. They projected animated holographic symbols above them—a straight flush.
A slight grin curled up on Chesney's craggy lips. He was one of the best Arcturus Hold’em players in the galaxy. He had been featured on the Galactic Series of Poker a few years ago, taking home the top prize. For a gangster, he sure did crave the spotlight.
Max's blue eyes sparkled as she lay down her cards—a royal flush.
Chesney's grin sank to a frown. His jaw clamped down on the cigar, and his face turned red. He looked like he was going to pop.
“Tough break," Max said, leaning over the table, scooping up her credits.
"Not so fast," Chesney grumbled. His low, gravelly voice rumbled through the dim compartment. His bodyguards palmed their weapons—shit just got serious.
"What can I say? It just wasn't in the cards for you tonight."
Chesney didn't like the lame pun one bit.
“If I lose a hand or two… fair enough. But you've been beating me all night. Nobody gets that lucky.”
Max shrugged. “Luck’s got nothing to do with it. It's pure skill."
That didn't sit well with Chesney. “If you want any chance of walking out of here alive, you’ll leave the credits on the table."
Max arched an eyebrow at him. “Are you accusing me of cheating?” she asked in a playfully innocent voice.
“You’re goddamn right, I am!” His face twisted up, and he snarled like some kind of oversized varmint.
Max's eyes narrowed at him. "Now, we both know I'm not the one who’s cheating."
There was a small mosquito drone that clung to the wall behind Max. It had a perfect view over Max’s shoulder of her cards. It was wirelessly transmitting the images to a receiver, but Max jammed the signal before the card game began. Chesney hadn't been able to win without the assistance. His Galactic Series of Poker trophy was most likely undeserved.
Chesney let out a guilty chuckle. "You got a lot of guts to accuse me of cheating."
"If the shoe fits."
Chesney's face tightened.
"Don't think I haven't noticed your little spies,” Max said, motioning to the drone over her shoulder.
Chesney grew indignant. “How about you push those credits back to my side of the table? I might be inclined to forget about this incident. I'm sure we can come to some kind of arrangement.” His lecherous eyes surveyed Max’s sumptuous form.
She knew exactly what kind of arrangement he had in mind, and she wanted no part of it.
"Sorry. I won this money fair and square, and I intend to keep it."
“Pretty. But not a lot of brains,” Chesney mumbled.
Max's face tightened at the insult.
Chesney made a subtle gesture to his bodyguards to take action. They reached for their plasma pistols.
Max sprang from her seat, flicking the table on its side. Credits scattered everywhere. In the same fluid motion, she drew her .45 caliber pistol from its holster.
Chesney's guards drew their weapons, taking aim. But before either of them could get off a shot, Max had unloaded several copper slugs at both of them. The thunderous boom echoed off the bulkheads in the small compartment. The volume was ear splitting. Smoke wafted from the barrel of the .45, and the smell of gunpowder filled Max’s nostrils.
She liked the smell. There was something about the old-fashioned weapon that just felt comfortable. Everyone else was using plasma pistols, or some type of directed energy weapon. But Max had grown to prefer the bang of a .45. It was powerful and intimidating. Sure, it had its drawbacks. Limited ammunition, more potential mechanical failure. But you couldn't argue with the results.
Blood splattered from the chest wounds of each of the guards. They flopped to the deck, their gaping wounds gurgling as their lungs filled with fluid.
Chesney's jaw dropped, and the cigar tumbled from his lips, leaving a trail of ash down his shirt.
Max took aim at his ugly head. "What was it you were saying about cheating?"
"You just made a big mistake. Do you have any idea who I am?"
"Yeah. You’re the man who accused the wrong woman of cheating."
He gnashed his teeth and scowled at her. "You're going to regret this, lady." The gangster reached for his plasma pistol. Doing so was the epitome of poor judgment.
3
One by one, the flattop goon kicked down the stall doors in the change room. Every time, he came up empty-handed. Riley was nowhere to be found. He had upset a few customers in the process. By the time he reached the last stall, he was furious. Rage boiled on his face, and he slammed a fist into the bulkhead. It was impossible, he thought. He saw the kid run in here. There was no other way out. It was like she had magically vanished.
The goon scanned the compartment, desperately seeking an answer. His eyes fixed on the ventilation shaft above one of the stalls. He pushed into the small change room and stepped up on the bench to reach the vent. He pulled the grate off the passageway and stared into the narrow air shaft. There was no sign of Riley. Years of dust had collected on the walls of the shaft, and it looked undisturbed. No one could have crawled through the vent without leaving some trace of their presence.
The thug tossed the vent cover to the deck, holstered his weapon, and stormed out of the change room. He marched past a laundry cart piled full of clothes that needed to be re-folded and placed back out on the shelves.
It wouldn't be long before the station police arrived. He figured it was best to leave the scene of the crime—he’d already spent too much time there. His face twisted up perplexed. He knew he saw the little girl go in there. It didn't make any sense.
Several minutes after the goon left, Riley emerged from underneath the pile of unfolded clothes. She glanced around at the carnage. She wanted to scream at the sight of the dead sales associate and the various patrons. Her heart pounded in her throat, worrying about her father.
The back of Chesney's head exploded, splattering blood and spongy chunks of brain across the bulkhead and deck. Max's bullet had entered through his left eye, blending the contents of his brain into a nice, soupy purée. The creep flopped to the deck, and crimson sludge oozed from the gaping wound in his head. It was probably an improvement upon his looks.
Max knelt down and scooped her credits from the deck. She left the bloody ones behind—a tip for the crew that was going to have to clean up this mess.
Max moved out of the compartment and strolled away down the corridor like nothing had happened. Nobody was going to miss Chesney. She envisioned the headline, if there was going to be one, would read Mafia Boss Found Slain In Card Game Gone Wrong. But knowing the way things worked on Orion Station, there would probably be little, if any, mention of it at all. No one was going to dig too deep into the death of a man who was responsible for narcotics and human trafficking. Criminal overlords were like cockroaches—you’d kill one, and another one would spring up overnight to fill the vacuum. It was a constant turf war between them.
Max's mobile device buzzed in her pocket. She pulled it out and swiped the screen to see Riley's terrified face. She was trembling. Her eyes were red and puffy, and rivers of tears ran down her cheeks. Her body heaved with jerking sobs. She could barely choke out the words between breaths.
“Riley, slow down. Tell me what's wrong?”
“They… Killed… Him!” she spurted between sobs.
“Who?”
“Daddy. He’s dead.”
Max's face went pale. It took a moment to register. Her heart sank. It felt like someone had reached inside her chest and yanked her insides out. “Oh, baby, I'm so sorry. Where are you?”
“I’m on Cygnus 7. We went to Pinnacle Park. Why is this happening?"
“I don’t know, Sweetie.”
“Daddy said to call you if anything ever happened to him.”
Max's shock was turning to rage. “Are you hurt?"
She shook her head. “No.”
“I'm coming to get you. In the meantime, I need you to get someplace safe. Send your exact location to my mobile.”
Riley tabbed through the apps on her PDU and sent a location pin to Max. It gave her exact location within the space station. Max knew the area well. It looked like Riley was hiding in a storage compartment not far from the shopping district. “You’re less than two blocks from the Hyton Hotel. I'm going to book you into a suite under the name Hannah Mars. Don't give your real name to anyone. I don't want to scare you, but these people are going to keep looking for you. Once you get to the suite, don't open the door for anyone until I get there. You got that?"
Riley nodded her head. “Hurry. Please!”
“I'll be there as soon as I can. Call me as soon as you get in the suite, okay?”
Riley nodded again.
“I’ll see you soon." Max wanted to say that everything was going to be okay. But nothing was okay about the situation. She made another call and immediately booked in a room for Riley at the Hyton.
Max felt sick to her stomach at the thought of Riley all alone. Jake was an old military buddy, and she had promised him long ago that she would look after Riley if anything ever happened to him. It was the kind of promise made during the thick of battle when things looked grim. One that she always intended to keep, but that she hoped it would never be needed.
Max tapped her earbud, activating the comm link. “Winston, do you copy?”
A few moments later, the quirky robot responded. “I copy. How may I be of assistance?"
“Meet me in the transport terminal. We’re taking a trip.”
“Oh, excellent. I love to travel.”
“I thought you hadn't been off Orion Station before?”
“I haven’t. But traveling seems like something I would enjoy.” He paused for a moment. “Where are we going?”
“Cygnus 7.”
“How delightful. Can we go to Pinnacle Park? I've always wanted to ride a roller coaster.”
Max just shook her head. “Just get to the terminal, ASAP.”
She tapped her earbud to disconnect the communication. Max called her friend at the FCIS (Federation Criminal Investigative Service) as she weaved through the maze of corridors toward the transport terminal.
Dylan's handsome face appeared on the screen of her mobile. “Special Agent Carter, how can I help you?” he said with a grin and a sparkle in his eyes. Any occasion to speak with Max was a welcomed one. But he could see right away this wasn't a social call. “What’s wrong?”
She filled him in on the details.
“I know someone in the station PD on Cygnus. I can have them look after the girl until you get there. Where is she?”
“This isn’t a secure channel, and I'm not trusting anybody local.”
“That's what I like about you, everyone’s a suspect.”
“Are you saying I have trust issues?”
“No, I would never say something like that," he muttered in a sarcastic tone.
“My trust issues keep me alive.”
Dylan paused for a moment. ”Listen, I'm sorry I had to leave Orion Station. The Federation’s got me on this case and…”
"I'm a big girl. You don't need to make excuses to me. You and I would never have worked anyway. I don't think either one of us can sit still for more than two seconds."
“You stayed on Orion Station longer than I expected.”
“It sort of grew on me. Like a fungus.”
Dylan paused for a moment. "I'll see what I can find out about your friend and if there is anyone who might want him dead.”
“Thanks. I appreciate it."
He gazed at Max’s mesmerizing face. It was clear he still had feelings for her. “Take care of yourself out there.”
“You know me.”
“That’s what I’m worried about.”
4
It was a mistake. Max stopped by her apartment and grabbed a few things before heading to the transport terminal. She picked up a tail on the way—a baldheaded guy wearing all black, with dark sunglasses. Max figured he had to be one of Chesney's goons. You couldn't just kill a mob guy without someone coming after you. He kept his distance and observed. But Max was ready for anything.
She booked the first transport to Cygnus 7. Even with a quantum jump, it was a seven hour journey—too long for Riley to be alone, she worried. Max wasn't one to get nervous, but she was going to be an anxious wreck during the trip. And the goon following her was compounding matters.
Winston met her at the gate. He was a sleek XR-709 service bot. He stood 5’10” tall with composite plastic body panels over an alloy skeleton, designed by the famed sports car designer Zapharini. Precision crafted gears, servos, and joints allowed Winston to have smooth and fluid movement. A composite smart-polymer allowed him to form expressions on his face plate. He was state-of-the-art, and one of the more expensive models. He had been completely refurbished after the last fiasco on Orion Station.
After a 45 minute wait, they boarded the star-liner. With her poker winnings, Max bought two first-class tickets. Winston would have been happy in coach. For that matter, he wouldn't have complained if he had been stuck in the cargo hold. But Max was flush with credits, and she figured why not give the robot a nice travel experience?
Max sunk into the cushy leather seats, and they adjusted to fit her body perfectly. They reclined to an almost horizontal position. It was the only way to travel—especially for long quantum jumps.
Winston secured his safety harness, then fidgeted in his seat, glancing around and reading the safety instruction manual.
"Don't be nervous. Quantum travel is no big deal."
"I'm not nervous," Winston snapped. "I'm just calculating the probability of a successful journey. There are several variables that I cannot account for."
"That's life. Get used to it."
Winston handed her a small data chip. “I've made a backup of my memory and personality profile in case of emergency. If anything should happen, I would very much like to be restored."
Max took the backup and slipped it into her pocket. "Nothing's going to happen to you. You're with me. Relax."
Winston forced an awkward smile.
"Can I get you anything?” a bubbly attendant asked.
“Antarian whiskey," Max replied. “Bulvacci, if you’ve got it.” At the rate her body processed substances, Max could drink a liter and be sober in a few hours.
“Certainly. And for your companion? A power conditioner, or neural enhancer, perhaps?"
“No, thank you,” Winston replied. “I’m fine."
The attendant moved on to the next row. Passengers continued to board the transport. Max caught sight of the bald man who had been following her. He strolled through first-class and took a seat toward the back of the transport.
Max’s face tensed. She wondered what he was up to. She had to check her pistol before boarding, so she was feeling a little vulnerable. But this clown was nothing she couldn't handle.
Once all the passengers were situated, the transport detached from the space-way and drifted away from the station. Its massive ion engines rumbled, and the craft banked around, lumbering into the abyss.
Max glanced out the window at the glimmering stars. The captain made an announcement about travel time and in-flight entertainment options. Neural rings were complementary in first-class. They could be purchased for 50 credits apiece in coach. They would allow connectivity with the ship’s entertainment center, and the passengers could experience an array of movies, interactive games, and experiences.
Max glanced around the compartment and watched as the majority of passengers slipped on rings and tuned out. She couldn't blame them, it was going to be a long, boring journey. But Max would never tune out to her surroundings. That could have deadly consequences.
Before long, a quantum distortion washed through the ship as the transport made the jump to slide-space. For an instant, time and space distorted. Max's stomach twisted, and her body felt like rubber—stretched in all directions. An instant later, things snapped back to normal. A few of the passengers hurled in barf bags from the unsettling sensation. The attendants assisted passengers that were feeling queasy.
“That wasn't so bad," Winston said. "I'm not sure what people complain about?”
“That's because you can't get nauseous.”
“True, but I have sensors to detect motion.”
“Good for you,” Max said, dryly.
Winston looked confused. “I’m having a hard time understanding the concept of dizzy and nauseous. It's just sensory input. Why do some humans find it so discomforting?”
“Just shut up and enjoy the ride.”
Winston looked unsure how to respond. He didn't want to say anything else because he had just been told to shut up. But he couldn't help but blurt out one more phrase. "I'll just wait until you speak to me before I speak again."
"Excellent idea." Max leaned back and settled into her seat. She figured she couldn’t do anything about Riley’s situation until she reached Cygnus 7. She might as well get some sleep. With Winston’s speech module deactivated she wasn't going to have to listen to the neurotic robot yammer for the next seven hours. But the thought of Riley alone and in danger was eating away at her. It was like she had swallowed a gallon of acid and it was coursing through her veins. She wasn't going to be able to relax until she knew the kid was safe.
Max glanced around the compartment. The baldheaded guy was still in his seat. But Max noticed something else that gave her concern as she glanced toward the back of the fuselage.
5
"Do as I say, and no one will get hurt." A man stood at the front of the cabin holding a remote detonator. He was a young guy in his early 20s, with dark hair. It was hard to say what exactly the end result would be if he pressed the button. Most likely, he was wearing a vest lined with the neuvxium. The substance was undetectable on scanners, and it had an explosive power 10 times that of Composition X.
Shrieks of terror filled the cabin. Eyes were wide, and mouths agape.
The muscles in Max’s face tensed. The veins in her temples pulsed. This was the last thing she needed right now—some jackass looking for a ransom, or looking to martyr himself.
The hijacker banged on the hatch that led to the cockpit. He looked into the small surveillance camera above the door and made his demands. "Take this ship to Reva Major 6. Now. Contact the Federation and tell them they have four hours to comply with my demands. I want 1 trillion credits deposited in an encrypted account, or everyone aboard this ship dies. Have I made myself clear?"
There was a long moment of silence.
The captain crackled back over the loudspeaker." We will contact the Federation and inform them of your request. In the meantime, I suggest all passengers remain calm and stay seated. I have full faith and confidence that this matter can be resolved peacefully, and without incident."
"Everyone dies unless I get my money."
The passengers gasped and shrieked. Children were crying. Faces went pale with fear.
There was no way Max was going to let this ass-clown divert the ship to the other side of the galaxy. She knew the Federation wasn't ever going to capitulate to this terrorist’s demands. It just wasn't done. The minute they complied with one terrorist, a dozen more would be emboldened.
Max unbuckled her safety harness and stepped into the aisle.
Several angry passengers hissed at her. "Stay in your seat, lady."
Max strolled up the aisle toward the hijacker. The moment he saw her, his eyes went wide and his fingers clenched around the detonator. "Stop! Don't come any closer."
Max paused momentarily.
"Get back in your seat!”
Max didn't budge. She just stared him down with her icy eyes.
"I swear to God, I will blow us all to hell."
Max looked him up and down. "No you wont. You’re too much of a pussy."
The hijacker’s face crinkled up. He didn't know how to respond.
Max took another step closer.
There were more hisses from the passengers “You're going to get us killed," someone muttered.
"Don't come any closer,” the frustrated hijacker muttered. “I’m going to do it."
Max was almost within striking distance. "Go ahead. Do it. I dare you."
“Don’t tempt me, lady."
"You don't have the guts." With blazing speed, Max lunged forward and punched her fingertips into the man's throat. His airway instantly closed off. He involuntarily dropped the device and clutched his throat, gasping for breath.
Max snatched the detonator before it hit the deck.
The hijacker wheezed as he tried to suck air into his lungs, but the effort was futile.
Max towered over the creep who had crumpled to the deck. He was turning blue in the face.
The passengers cheered with glee.
Max grabbed the jackass by the collar and dragged him into the airlock. She smashed a button on the bulkhead—the inner hatch slid open. She pushed him inside, then sealed the hatch.
By now, he was just barely able to get small slivers of air into his lungs. His face was pale and his eyes were wide with panic as he realized what Max was about to do. His muffled screams barely seeped through the hatch, "No. Please. You can’t!”
"Watch me." She opened the outer airlock hatch, and the hijacker was sucked out into the void. A few moments later, Max detonated the device, just for good measure. She closed the outer airlock hatch, then she ambled to the cockpit and banged on the door. She looked up at the surveillance camera. "Threat neutralized. Continue to Cygnus 7 as planned."
Max strolled back to her seat, took a sip of her whiskey, and reclined.
The rest of the passengers weren't quite sure what to make of her.
The captain's voice crackled over the loudspeaker. "Well, ladies and gentlemen, we apologize for the inconvenience. We plan to have you on Cygnus 7 as scheduled. We know that you have a choice when it comes to space travel, and we hope you will continue to select Galactic Spaceways as your preferred star-liner.”
6
“Am I being detained?” Max asked, exasperated. She had been sitting in an interrogation room at the terminal on Cygnus 7 for over an hour. She wondered how many different ways these jackasses were going to ask the same questions. She was being grilled by an agent from the FBST (Federation Bureau of Space Travel) as well as an agent from the DFS (Department of Federation Security).
“I understand your frustration, ma'am. But we're just trying to do our job. We need to be thorough and fully understand what happened on the flight,” the FBST agent said. He was a thin, tall guy with a mustache. He looked barely old enough to be out of the academy. He stood across the table from her with folded arms.
“Am I being detained?” Max's steely gaze blazed into him.
The FBST agent stammered and exchanged a glance with his comrade from the DFS—a short, round, bald guy with glasses. Then his eyes flicked back to Max. “Just tell us one more time what happened."
Max clenched her jaw. "Would you rather that ship have blown up? A few hundred dead passengers would look real good for Federation security.”
“We appreciate the fact that a disaster was averted. These are just routine questions. Don't make any inference from them,” the FBST agent said.
“Are you holding any of the other passengers captive?”
“We’re also questioning the robot you were traveling with.”
“But nobody else?”
“We've taken statements.”
“And I assume you've already reviewed the security footage, and the flight logs, Agent Dillworth?” Max said, eyeing his badge.
“You're not being held captive, ma'am,” Dillworth replied.
“So, I’m free to go?” Max stood up and pushed away from the table.
The agents tensed.
“Please stay seated, ma'am,” Dillworth said.
Max glared at him. She didn't take a seat.
“Do you want to explain to me why you don't show up in any of our databases?” The DFS agent asked. “It's like you don't exist.”
“Call Dylan Carter at the FCIS. He can vouch for me. But I'm not answering any more of your questions. So, either arrest me, or get the hell out of my way."
“You threw a man out an airlock,” Dillworth said. “I believe that's still considered murder. Even in this part of the galaxy.”
Max stared at him, incredulous. "I threw a terrorist out of the airlock who was wearing an explosive vest, threatening to destroy a passenger transport. There is no jury in the galaxy that's going to convict me of murder.”
“We have no way of ascertaining the actual materials in his vest, seeing as you decided to space him,” Dillworth said.
“You can't be serious?”
“We're just trying to make sure this man's rights weren’t violated,” the DFS agent said.
“Unbelievable.”
“He was clearly an emotionally disturbed individual, and I feel like the situation could've been handled with more compassion,” Dillworth said.
“Are you guys just looking for a way to justify your paycheck? How about you look into Jake Mitchell's murder? Happened right here on Cygnus 7 earlier today."
“That's a CPD issue," the DFS agent muttered.
“Right." Max glared at the two idiots. “Like I said. Either arrest me, or fuck off.”
The agents exchanged a bewildered look. They didn't know what the hell to do with Max.
She stormed out of the compartment, brushing past the stunned agents. She burst into the corridor, scanning the other interrogation compartments. “Winston? Winston?”
Max finally found the robot in a compartment at the end of the hall. She mashed a button on the bulkhead, and the hatch slid open. “Come on. We're out of here.”
He followed her into the passageway.
Max strolled out of the containment area, and the agents just watched her go. She just hoped the authorities on Cygnus 7 weren’t as corrupt as the ones on Orion Station.
She stepped back out into the terminal amid the bustle of travelers. Cygnus 7 wasn't quite as large as Orion Station, but it was still a mega-metropolis. A sea of people, and aliens, flowed in and out on a daily basis.
An old woman hobbled up to Max. She had to be almost 200 years old. Even with rejuvenation treatments, her skin hung from her bones, wrinkled like old leather. Age spots dotted her thin skin. An Exo-Walker™ supported her legs and helped her move freely. "You're that nice woman who saved us on the flight.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Good job.” She leaned in and whispered, "Although I think you should have kicked him a few more times when he was down.”
“I agree.”
Max watched the old woman hobble away. The thought of becoming feeble and decrepit made her cringe. The thought of ever needing an Exo-Walker to get around was just depressing. But that was something she was never going to have to worry about. She was never going to age. She was never going to get old. She was just going to stop functioning one day. Doctor Tor had engineered termination dates into all the other SW Ultra members. It was a failsafe measure in case things went wrong with the program. Max had no reason to think she was any different than the rest of them. She had no idea how long she would live.
Max pulled out her mobile and dialed Riley. But there was no answer. Max never worried about anything. She was always calm, cool, and collected. But this made her stomach roil with acid. She made a silent plea to the universe—please let Riley be okay.
7
Riley flung her arms around Max as she stepped into the suite. The little girl clung onto Max for dear life. It seemed like she was never going to let go. Max was all she had left in the galaxy. "I'm so sorry this happened. You're safe now. I'm going to find out who did this to your father, and I'm going to make them pay."
Riley sobbed on Max's shoulder for a few moments. Then she dried her eyes and pulled herself together.
"This is Winston. He's a friend." Max didn't use the term lightly. She trusted Winston with her life. He had saved her before.
Riley shook the robot’s hand.
"It's a pleasure to meet you, Riley," Winston said in a formal tone.
"It's nice to meet you too, Winston." She said softly. Her voice lacked any emotion or enthusiasm. Her eyes were hollow, and sadness pulled on her heart like an anchor.
"I know this is difficult, but I need you to tell me everything you remember about the incident." Riley nodded. They stepped into the living room and took a seat on the sofa.
Riley told Max everything she remembered. She described both of the goons in detail—where they were, what they were doing, and the conversation she was having with her father when this whole nightmare began.
"What was your father working on?" Max asked.
"He wasn't working on anything. He's been retired for at least a year now."
"Was he picking up any work on the side?
"I don't think so. I think he’d get calls for jobs every now and then. One-off type missions. He turned them all down. He said he wanted to spend more time with me."
"I know he did. You were his whole world."
Riley's eyes brimmed again. Her face was red and puffy from crying nonstop. Just when she thought the tears had run dry, more would come. They had to stop eventually. But it wasn't going to be anytime soon.
Max figured she'd give Riley a respite from the questions. Riley looked like she could use a break.
Max took a moment to call Dylan. But another agent answered his phone. He had dark hair, brown eyes, and sharp features.
Max’s face twisted up, perplexed. “I was trying to get in touch with Agent Carter…”
“He’s on a special assignment right now. I’m covering for him.”
“What assignment?”
“I'm sorry, but that's classified, ma'am. Agent Carter’s gone dark.”
Max’s eyes narrowed. “When will he be back?”
“That’s difficult to say. You must be Max?”
Max gave a hesitant nod.
"Agent Carter mentioned that you would be in touch. He’s filled me in on the details of your situation, and instructed me to be of assistance. I'm Special Agent Neil Grant."
Max tried to size him up. It seemed a little strange, but it wouldn't be out of the ordinary for Dylan to go silent when on a special operation. “He mentioned he had a contact in the station PD on Cygnus 7.”
"I take it you are there now?
Max nodded.
“How was the trip?"
“Uneventful."
"Really? I heard there was a hijacker aboard the transport,” Grant said with a knowing grin.
“Word travels fast, doesn’t it?”
“This is the FCIS. We know everything.”
“I thought that was the UIA’s motto?” Max said, testing his sense of humor. There had been a long-standing interagency rivalry between the United Intelligence Agency and the FCIS.
Grant didn’t seem amused. "Go see Kirk Winter. He’s expecting you. He'll catch you up to speed with everything the station PD knows so far. I told him you’re a close associate of Agent Carter’s.”
“Can he be trusted?“
“I don't think Carter would have recommended him if he thought otherwise. The two are old Navy buddies.”
Max was unsure. There were too many variables in this equation. She wasn't even sure she could trust Agent Grant, much less one of his recommendations, even if it was supposedly coming from Dylan.
Grant could see her hesitancy. “Look, I'm here to help. Agent Carter specifically said that I am under orders to provide you with as much assistance as I legally can. I know you don't know me from Adam, and he said you might be a little… difficult, at times.”
Max arched an eyebrow at him.
“But, you’re going to have to trust me. Keep me posted after you talk to Winter.”
Max sighed Will do. And, thanks for your help.”
“Anytime.”
Max ended the transmission. Grant’s face vanished from her display screen.
Before she could slip her mobile into her pocket, an explosion knocked the hatch off its hinges. It clattered against the entrance foyer. Smoke filled the compartment. A team of thugs spilled into the smoky haze, weapons in the firing position.
Max's ears rang from the deafening blast. The overpressure knocked her to the deck.
Riley screeched in terror.
Max sprang to her feet and drew her pistol. But before she could get a shot off, one of the invaders blasted her with an STN-60.
The neural disruptor stunned her momentarily. It would have put the average person on the deck, but Max was no average person. It was like the slate had been wiped clean. It took her a moment to regain her wits about her—to remember where she was and what she was doing.
The STN-60 would render most people unconscious for an hour or two. The weapon was widely used by law enforcement. It was an ideal way to subdue uncooperative suspects. While billed as non-lethal, neural disruptors weren’t without potential side effects. It was rare, but permanent brain damage and other cognitive disorders could occur. And no one was really sure what the long-term effects would be. It was going to take a while for the data to come in. But in 30 or 40 years, there might be increased cases of dementia among former detainees. At the least, you'd wake up with a helluva headache after having been hit with a stun beam.
Max was hit several more times. Multiple invaders blasted her with STN-60s until she dropped to the deck. Her hand went slack, dropping the .45 pistol aside. She could see the blurry shapes of the goons spill to the room and grab Riley. Max was helpless to do anything about it. The full effects of the STN-60 took effect. Her vision faded to black.
8
“Did you have a nice nap?" The goon with the flattop haircut said as he hovered over Max.
She recognized him from Riley's description, and the unmistakable scar on his cheek. Max's vision was still blurred, and her temples throbbed. She had no idea how long she'd been unconscious.
She was in a small, dimly lit compartment. She figured she was still probably on Cygnus 7, but she could have been halfway across the galaxy as well. Several other goons huddled around her.
“Where's Riley?” Max growled. Her eyes were like a ferocious beast, ready to devour its prey. She was seething with anger.
"She's safe. For now,” Flattop said.
“If anything happens to her—“
“Please, you are in no position to talk tough.”
“Where’s Winston?”
“The robot,” Max said through clenched teeth.
“Oh, yes. Soon, he'll have his memory wiped and be sold for parts.”
“You realize I'm going to kill you.” It was a matter of fact statement. Inevitable in Max's mind.
Flattop chuckled. "Good luck with that,” he snarked. “I know all about you SW Ultra rejects. And quite frankly, I'm not impressed.”
“Who are you? What do you want?"
“You can call me Zane. And it’s not what I want. It's what my boss wants.”
“Who’s your boss?”
Flattop smiled. "That's none of your concern." He gestured to a man in the corner of the room. “See, my comrade here fucked up…”
The man stepped out of the shadows. His arm was in a sling, nursing a shoulder wound. He looked at Zane with nervous eyes.
“Jake wasn't supposed to die,” Zane said. “I wouldn't go so far as to call it an accident, but my friend wasn't supposed to shoot him. Not yet anyway. He had a job to do for us.”
“I doubt Jake would ever work for the likes of you."
"Not by choice, anyway. But he didn’t have a choice. Just like you don’t have a choice."
Max clenched her jaw.
Zane smiled and patted his companion on the back. “Yep, Mick here really screwed things up.” Without flinching, Zane blasted his companion in the chest with a plasma pistol.
The glowing bolt tore into his thoracic cavity. Crimson blood and goo splattered the bulkhead behind Mick. He stumbled back, clutching the gaping hole in his chest. Mick’s devastated eyes glanced at Zane in disbelief, then he crumpled to the deck. The last gasp of breath rattled from his lungs.
“My employer doesn't tolerate mistakes,” Zane said. “And neither do I. Mick’s little mishap put a serious wrench in our plan. But it's fortunate that young Riley called you for help.”
Max tried to put the pieces together. She had an idea of where this was going.
“As I'm sure you know, Jake worked for the Secret Service before he retired. Part of a security detail for the president. That experience provided him with a wealth of knowledge regarding protocol and procedure. Who better to assassinate the president than a former Secret Service agent?"
Max's eyes narrowed at him.
“With your military background, and extensive training, you’ll be an adequate replacement."
“You’ve lost your mind.”
"The status of my sanity is not really an issue here.” Zane grinned. “Now, I'm sure I don't need to spell it out for you, but just so we’re on the same page… You're going to do exactly as I say, or the kid dies."
"You want me to kill the president of the Federation?"
“President Stafford is going to be at the X50 Summit in less than 48 hours. My employer wishes Stafford’s demise to come during his address to the Council.”
Max stared at him, incredulous. "That's impossible. You realize how tight security is going to be at that event? The idea is idiotic.”
“My employer wants to make a statement.”
“Your employer wants to destroy the Federation and start another war,” she said, dryly.
Zane shrugged. "He has his motives."
“Getting anywhere close to the president with a weapon is going to be next to impossible. It's a suicide mission.”
“Which is exactly why I'm not going to be the one to do it." Zane flashed his smug grin again. “And I have to admit, you have certain abilities which make you an ideal candidate for this type of work. You can morph your hair and eye color. You can mimic fingerprints, alter your retinal pattern, along with a host of other nifty attributes. Comes in handy when attempting to infiltrate security systems."
Max was designed to be a government assassin, not assassinate members of the government.
“My men are going to escort you to the Summit. If you fulfill your obligations, I'll release Riley. If you manage to survive, you can go about your life as though nothing happened. Although, you'll probably be hunted by every Federation agency in existence."
“Where's Riley?"
“She’s safe.”
“I want to see her. Now!”
“Not possible. She is far, far away from here.”
“Get her on the phone now, or there's no deal.”
Zane huffed and rolled his eyes. He pulled out his mobile device and made the call. It was a thin piece of smart glass. A few moments later, Riley's terrified face appeared on the display. Zane held the screen in front of Max.
“Are you okay?"
Riley nodded as tears streamed down her dirty cheeks.
“I'm going to rescue you,” Max promised. “And I'm going to kill the people who did this.”
Zane ended the transmission. He slipped the mobile device back into his pocket. “I have to say, I admire your optimism.”
Max scowled at him.
“I want you to meet Skinner,” Zane said.
The ominous man stepped forward out of the shadows. Skinner had cold eyes and sharp features. He had a perfectly manicured goatee, and the sides of his head were shaved.
“He's going to see that you get onto the transport to the Summit,” Zane continued. "He's a Cobra Company elite warrior. More than enough to handle the likes of you."
Max scoffed. "Keep dreaming."
9
Skinner escorted Max to Bay 63. Her hands were cuffed behind her back.
Cobra Company supplied mercenaries for hire. They were all highly trained, and most were former special warfare operators. There were rumors that the company had been working on their own genetically enhanced super-soldiers. Max thought it was a lot of hype. She had bumped into a few of them before and wasn’t impressed.
Rav, and his crew, stood in front of his ZR-75 Spacehawk on the flight deck. It was a sleek, mid-sized transport that could accommodate up to eight passengers, and had 10,000 cubic feet of cargo space.
Skinner made the hand off. “This is Max Mars. She’s all yours, boys.”
Rav and his crew ogled Max’s perfect form. They were speechless for a moment.
“Are you going to un-cuff me?” Max asked. “I mean, do I threaten you that much?”
“What's the matter, Skinner? She too much for you to handle?” Zero chuckled. He was a short little troll of a man that was maybe 5’ tall when he wasn't slouching.
“Fuck you, Zero,” Skinner muttered.
Rav eyed Max with a healthy dose of caution. He was a barrel chested guy with a thick curly beard, and was sleeved in tattoos. “You’re not going to give me any trouble, are you?”
“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Max replied with a mischievous twinkle in her eyes.
Rav nodded to Skinner to take the cuffs off.
“I'm going to recommend against this," Skinner said.
“Puh-lease,” Zero said in a sarcastic tone.
Skinner shrugged. “If you say so.” He unlocked the cuffs and removed them.
She stretched her arms and rubbed her wrists. The cuffs had been quite uncomfortable. Not to mention the fact that she hated being restrained.
“Skinner, you still owe me 100 credits,” Zero shouted.
“I got your credits right here,” he said, grabbing his crotch.
“Hey, hey, show some respect,” Zero said. “It's not like you're talking to your mother.”
Skinner's face tensed. He didn’t like anyone joking about his mother. “After I get back from Beta Arcturus 9, I'm going to kick your ass."
“I'm shaking," Zero said.
“Keep talking little man."
“If you want to get spanked again, I'm willing to go double or nothing on the Rigel Ravens. I'll even give you a 10 point spread.”
“Deal. The Crushers are going to wipe the field with them."
“Let's get moving,” Rav commanded.
Skinner watched as Rav marched Max up the ramp of the Spacehawk. He pressed a button on the bulkhead, and the ramp whirred shut, clamoring behind them.
“That's Ganz, Crash, and the mouthy one is Zero,” Rav said, pointing the men out.
Ganz and Crash were ferocious men, packed with lean muscle, sporting tattoos and scars—6’5” and 260 lbs. each. Clearly some type of former military. They looked Max up and down, partly intrigued, partly skeptical, and partly smitten. She was a sight to behold.
“Look, I don't know what your drama is, and I don't care,” Rav said. “My job is to get you to the Summit, and make sure you do what you're supposed to. Outside of that, I've got no beef with you. So this is going to go a lot smoother for everyone if you just play along."
“Like I said, you'll get no trouble from me,” Max assured him.
He wasn't buying it. "Just for good measure, Ganz is going to escort you to your quarters. I hope you don't mind, but that's where you will stay until we reach the Summit.”
“Whatever you say, Boss.”
There was something unsettling about how cooperative Max was being. His eyes narrowed at her, trying to size her up.
“What’s the matter? You don't think little old me is really going to cause a bunch of big strong guys like yourselves a problem, do you?"
Rav smirked and exchanged a cocky glance with his comrades. “I think you'd be a fool to start trouble on my ship.”
“Do I look foolish to you?" Max asked playfully.
“You look like a smart-ass."
Max smiled. “I promise, I’ll be a good girl,” she said in a breathy, innocent voice. It was almost naughty.
Rav swallowed hard. His pulse quickened.
“How long do you anticipate travel time?" Max asked.
“22 hours, give or take.”
Rav watched her saunter away as Ganz escorted her through the corridors to a passenger compartment. Max had a nice saunter. Everyone was a little distracted by her assets. It was like somebody had turned up the heat.
“Did you see the way she was looking at me," Zero boasted. He was completely delusional.
Crash and Rav rolled their eyes.
“No, seriously. It was like, pow, instant connection.” The little man was quite enamored with himself. “I know you two don't have a lot of experience with women, but I'm telling you, she was into me.”
Rav and Crash had learned to ignore Zero’s nonsensical ramblings.
“Well, I’ve got bad news for you," Rav said. “Zane says the boss wants her killed as soon as she completes the job. So your budding little romance isn’t going to last very long."
Zero looked almost heartbroken. His body sagged, and he shuffled forward to the cockpit.
10
Ganz had his weapon aimed at Max. He wasn't taking any chances. He walked behind her, keeping a safe distance between them. Zane had warned him that she was an elite operator, and Ganz was going to take him at his word. "It's up here on the right."
Max stopped and pressed a button on the bulkhead. The hatch slid open. Her eyes surveyed the spartan compartment. There were two narrow racks, and a passageway with barely enough space to turn around in. There were a set of lockers and a small desk near the hatch. "Luxurious," she said dryly.
“This isn't a space-liner, honey."
"Thanks, Captain Obvious."
"Step inside," he said, motioning with the pistol.
"You know, I'm hungry. Maybe I can get something from the galley before I settle in?"
"Now!" He motioned her inside.
"Okay. Don't get excited." Max slipped into the compartment. She looked over her shoulder at Ganz hovering in the portal. "I'm going to get awfully lonely in here. Maybe you could keep me company?" Her sultry voice lingered in the air. She looked at Ganz with baby doll eyes. She arched her irresistible ass out just a little bit, trying to entice him.
"I'm not stupid, lady. You think I don't know what you’re doing?"
She looked at him with big innocent eyes. "What am I doing?"
Ganz chuckled. He pressed the button on the bulkhead and the hatch slammed shut.
Max's face twisted up. She couldn't believe her charms fell flat. She kicked the hatch in frustration. Her determined eyes scanned the compartment, looking for a way out. Time was running out. She had no intention of going through with the assassination. She needed to get out of the compartment, hijack the ship, and somehow find Riley. All within the next 22 hours. It seemed like an impossible task.
Max felt a quantum distortion ripple through the ship. The bulkheads bulged and distorted. Her stomach twisted in knots as the ship made the transition to slide-space.
Time was wasting.
There was an air vent on the forward bulkhead, but it was much too small to crawl through. She was in a berthing compartment, not a holding cell. There had to be some way to override the locking mechanism. Title 8, section 16.44.11 of the Intergalactic Passenger Code stated that all hatches must be equipped with a manual override to facilitate passenger egress in case of emergency. Max tried several times to open the hatch from the keypad, but it was non-responsive. Either the ship wasn't up to code, or the locking mechanism had been reprogrammed at some point in time.
Max found a screwdriver in a desk drawer and pried off the control panel. There was a jumble of wires attached to a printed circuit board. She made several attempts to rewire the device before the lock finally unlatched and the hatch slid open.
She poked her head into the corridor and scanned in all directions—the hallway was clear. She slipped out of the compartment, clutching the screwdriver like a knife. In her hands, it was a lethal weapon.
The drone of the engines oscillated in a hypnotic pulse. She could hear the muted echoes of the crew’s voices cascading through the passageways. She crept forward toward the cockpit. It wasn't going to be a fair fight—four guys with plasma weapons against one girl with a screwdriver? Max had been up against worse odds.
Footsteps clanked, filtering down from the deck above her. Judging by the sound of the heavy steps, she figured it was either Crash or Ganz. They weren’t light enough to be Zero’s or Rav’s.
Max dashed to the next ladder and climbed to the deck above. She poked her head through the portal, like a groundhog, and glanced around. She saw Ganz heading aft. She’d deal with him first.
Max climbed through the portal and scurried down the corridor behind him. He was listening to music on headphones. He had the volume so loud the music spilled out into the corridor, sounding thin and tinny. Ganz bobbed his head in rhythm with the beat, oblivious to the feisty brunette creeping up behind him.
Max could have just jammed the screwdriver into his neck and punctured his carotid artery. She could have stabbed the tool through his ear, destroying the base of his brain. But that would have been too easy.
Max decided she wanted to have a little fun with him. She shook her hair like something out of a shampoo commercial. The strands changed from brunette to blonde. It would certainly throw Ganz for a loop. She tapped him on the shoulder, and the big behemoth spun around. His face twisted up, perplexed. It took him a moment to recognize Max. The change in appearance, and the fact that she was out of her compartment, didn't compute right away. By the time he put it all together, Max's fist had smashed into his nose, and blood was dribbling down over his lips.
Pain split through his skull, and again Ganz was dazed.
Max planted a swift kick into his groin. The big guy doubled over. Max grabbed the back of his head and yanked it down as she kneed him in the face. Crimson blood sprayed out, speckling the deck and bulkheads.
Ganz stumbled back and crashed to the deck, out cold.
Max knelt beside him, snatching his plasma pistol. She tossed the screwdriver aside and dragged Ganz into a nearby compartment.
One down—three to go.
Crash turned the corner as Max stepped back into the hallway. He hesitated for a second, wondering who this blonde woman was. Then he put two and two together, a lot faster then Ganz did. He drew his pistol and sent a flurry of plasma bolts streaking down the corridor.
Max ducked back into the compartment as they whizzed by, sizzling through the air. The bolts slammed into the bulkheads, showering sparks. Smoke wafted from the pitted metal.
Max angled her pistol down the corridor and returned fire. She squeezed off a few rounds, then ducked for cover. Plasma bolts impacted the bulkhead a few inches away.
She poked her weapon around the portal and fired down the corridor again.
Crash ducked behind a support brace as Max pelted rounds in his direction.
More plasma bolts streaked at Max from the opposite end of the corridor—Rav blasted away, trying to flank her.
Max angled her weapon around and unleashed a torrent of fury. This time she was dead on accurate. Rav’s head vaporized in a crimson mist. His body crumpled to the deck, oozing blood from the arteries in his neck.
Another bolt blazed inches from Max's face. The scorching heat felt like a bad sunburn. She recoiled, then took aim at Crash. She was about to send a torrent of plasma bolts in his direction when Ganz staggered to his feet and tackled her. He slammed her to the deck, like a linebacker taking out his frustration on the quarterback. It was time for a little payback.
Max’s pistol skidded across the deck.
Ganz straddled Max and did the old ground and pound. His meaty fists pummeled her perfect face. Brutal knuckles smashed into her sculpted cheekbones. Each hit caused double damage—the initial impact, plus the crack of the back of her head slamming into the deck.
Max's nose fractured. It felt like someone had jammed a kitchen knife between her eyes. Black and blue circles instantly formed.
Now she was pissed.
She managed to kick Ganz off her. His meaty body rolled aside, and Max sprang toward the pistol resting on the deck.
But Crash was there to greet her—the barrel of his plasma pistol staring her in the face. She could smell the sharp scent of ionized particles emitted from the hot barrel. Smoke was still wafting from the weapon.
Crash’s eyes blazed with fire. His face contorted in a wicked rage. Max figured this might just be it—the end of her existence. Crash had murder in his eyes.
11
It took everything he had not to squeeze the trigger. It was easy to see Crash wanted revenge for Rav’s death. But he couldn't kill Max until the mission was complete. If he did, he’d have to face the wrath of Zane’s boss. And that wasn't a pleasant thought.
“On your feet,” Crash grumbled. “Slowly. Keep your hands in the air.”
Max complied.
Ganz staggered to his feet and wiped the blood from his face. He wasn't a happy camper either. He slammed a fist into Max's back, kidney punching her for good measure. She arched back, and her knees went weak for a moment. But she remained standing. She gritted her teeth and stood tall, pushing the pain into that special place where it really didn't matter at all. Max had been designed to handle an immense amount of pain. But it wasn't something she enjoyed.
“So much for not causing trouble," Crash muttered.
“I'm just getting started,” Max replied.
Crash was standing a little too close. The pistol was in reach, aimed right at Max’s head. In a flash, Max shifted her head to the side, removing it as a target. She lunged for the barrel, twisted the weapon around, and grabbed Crash’s wrist simultaneously, stripping the weapon.
Max blasted two shots into Crash. The scorching bolts blazed a path through his flesh. His body smashed the deck. Max spun around, taking aim at Ganz. “Where is she?”
Ganz backed off and put his hands in the air. He said nothing.
“Riley! Where have they taken her?”
"I don't know."
She fired a shot that blazed past his ear.
Ganz winced, cowering away from the bolt. “I told you, I don't know. We're just taking you from one place to another.”
“Right. You're completely innocent. You’re not complicit in any of this. You're just doing a job.” Max's eyes burned into him.
“And it pays damn well. Don't get all self-righteous on me. We all do what we've got to do to survive.”
“Who do you work for?"
“I've only met Zane. I don’t know who the big boss is.”
“Don't bullshit me.”
Ganz’s eyes flicked down the corridor as he saw Zero enter the passageway.
“Hey, what’s going on?” Zero yelled.
Max started to look, but caught herself. It was a momentary distraction that gave Ganz a chance to lunge for the pistol. He grabbed the barrel and pushed it aside. His big cinderblock fist cracked Max in the jaw. It snapped her head to the side. Blood sprayed from her plush lips.
The weapon discharged into the bulkhead, showering glowing sparks.
Ganz stripped the weapon and planted another elbow into the bridge of Max's already shattered nose. She staggered back, dazed as pain stabbed through her face. Her vision doubled for an instant. She shook it off only to see a smiling Ganz aiming the weapon at her.
“Playtime is over.”
“I don't think so.” Max held up the pistol’s magazine. She had managed to hit the mag release button during their struggle, dropping the magazine of plasma projectiles into her palm as Ganz stripped the weapon. He had one shot left in the chamber.
Ganz’s face tensed. “One shot is all I need."
But with Max, he probably needed more than that. A recent study of officer involved shootings among Federation police determined that the hit rate was less than 50% when a single officer was involved. It dropped to less than 25% when two officers were involved. And when multiple officers fired at a suspect, the hit rate dropped to 7%.
Max would take those odds.
She moved with blinding speed, stepping aside in a blur. In a fluid movement she scooped the screwdriver from the deck.
Ganz fired his one and only plasma projectile.
It streaked past Max, rocketing down the corridor. The bolt slammed into the bulkhead near Zero.
Max twirled around and stabbed the screwdriver into Ganz’s neck. Crimson blood spurted from his carotid artery. His eyes went wide, then rolled back into his head as the life-force drained from his body. His massive frame slapped the deck, blood pooling around the corpse.
Max snatched the pistol from his grip as he fell and slammed the magazine into the mag well. She spun around to face Zero.
His eyes bulged, and he raised his hands in surrender. “Don't shoot. I just fly the ship. That's all.”
Max advanced down the corridor, keeping the weapon aimed at the little man.
Zero hovered in the corridor for a moment, then took off running back the way he came.
“Don't make me chase you!” Max yelled. “It's a small ship. I will find you. But by that time I'm going to be angry. I'm just mildly irritated right now, and you’ve seen the damage that I can do when irritated.”
There was a long silence.
“Okay. Don’t shoot. I’m coming out.” Zero cautiously stepped back into the corridor, hands in the air.
Max advanced down the corridor, keeping the weapon aimed at Zero. “Where have they taken Riley?”
“Who’s Riley?” he asked innocently.
Max's eyes narrowed at him. “Do you really want to end up like your friends?”
“I swear, I don’t know anything.”
“Then you’re no good to me.” Max gripped the trigger and took aim.
“Wait! You need someone to fly this ship.”
“No, I don’t. I'm perfectly capable of flying this thing myself."
Zero swallowed hard. “I don't know where they’ve taken her…”
Max’s face tensed.
“But I know who does,” he quickly added.
12
Zero dropped the SpaceHawk out of slide-space and programed in jump coordinates for Beta Arcturus 9.
“Why Beta Arcturus?” Max asked.
“We can catch Skinner there.”
“What makes you so sure?”
“Trust me.”
“That's not something I'm inclined to do.”
“At this point, what choice do you have?"
Max arched a wary eyebrow at him.
“Besides, I’m not about to screw you over. That didn't work out so well for the rest of the guys."
“Then you’ve got more sense than the rest of them."
“I'm better looking too,” he said with a wink. “Notwithstanding, women seem to dig me for my mind. Just saying.”
Max rolled her eyes. She'd seen toads that were better looking.
Zero pulled out a pre-rolled joint. “You smoke?"
“You’ve lost your mind if you think I'm going to ingest anything you give me.”
“Suit yourself.” He ran the joint underneath his nostrils and sniffed, taking in the fruity aroma. “Grade A Majuva herb. All the way from Seku Vega. Bubblegum Kush.” He dangled the joint in front of her. “You sure?”
“I’m sure.”
Zero fired up the jay. The cherry glowed red, and the dry herb crackled as he inhaled, filling his lungs with the luscious smoke. He breathed out a blue cloud that filled the cockpit. Zero leaned back in his chair and relaxed. His eyes grew puffy and red, becoming narrow slits. “That's really good shit," he choked out, coughing spastically.
“It will take the edge off that face of yours.”
Max scowled at him. “Excuse me?”
“That's got to hurt,” Zero said. “I've seen broken noses before, and that one's a doozy. You're going to be black and blue for days. A little bit of this will make you forget about your pain.”
“I’ve already forgotten about it.” Max may have been able to compartmentalize her injuries, but they were still uncomfortable. “You got any liquor around here?”
“Check the galley.” Zero hit the jay again.
In his current condition, Zero wasn’t a threat. He'd be lucky if he could move from the pilot’s seat in the next few hours. A serious case of couch-lock set in.
Max strolled to the galley and fumbled through the cabinets until she found a suitable whiskey. It wasn’t Bulvacci, but it would have to do. She poured herself a glass and looked at her face in the mirror. A slight frown creased on her lips, but even that hurt. Her advanced regenerative capabilities would let her heal in a few days, but in the meantime she looked like hell. And she wasn't particularly happy about it.
She slugged a shot of whiskey down, then poured another glass. This was a little harsher than Bulvacci, but after a few it wouldn’t matter so much, and the end result would be the same.
Max guzzled the last shot down, then put the bottle back into the cabinet. She took a deep breath and decided it was time to get to work. The corridors were littered with bodies, and they were going to start to stink up the place if she didn't do something about them. Besides, undocumented corpses were never a good thing to have around in case of a random customs inspection.
Max made her way into the corridor and dragged the bodies of Crash, Ganz, and Rav into an airlock and spaced them. Then she grabbed a bucket and a mop from the maintenance closet and swabbed the deck, cleaning up the blood and chunks of flesh. She poured a little bleach into the cleaning fluid before she sloshed it on the deck. It was an old assassin’s trick—the bleach causes the entire area to react with chemiluminescent substances, obscuring any traces of blood. Sure, it looks a little funny if your entire ship glows blue when the cops spray it with a chemical luminescent, but it's better than having them find blood spatter. The last thing Max needed was some overzealous cop starting an investigation from a routine inspection.
It was rare that customs agents pulled over a vehicle without probable cause, but it did happen. Max had no idea what to expect when they reached Beta Arcturus 9. But better safe than sorry. Max was a cover your ass type of person. She liked having contingency plans. She was the type of person that always sat facing the entrance, no matter where she was. Every structure she entered, she immediately began planning exit routes. She would envision conflict scenarios and start devising ways to deal with them. It didn't matter if she was just going out to lunch, she knew exactly where she was going if plasma bolts started flying. It was one of those things that years of combat ingrained in her. Preparation was always the key to victory. The battle is won before it is fought. But sometimes, no matter how great your preparation, you just have to wing it. No plan ever survives the battlefield.
13
“If you dragged me halfway across the galaxy just to go to a strip club, I swear to God, I’m going to kick your ass,” Max said.
“Be patient,” Zero replied.
Max and Zero huddled in an alleyway across the street from Flashers. Colored lights sparkled against the wet sidewalk. They were in the seedy part of Vel Norga—one of the largest cities on Beta Arcturus 9.
The journey had only taken a few hours. They had left the SpaceHawk across town at the spaceport, and caught an automated cab to the red light district.
Max's skeptical eyes blazed at Zero. She unholstered her plasma pistol and placed the barrel against the little man's head. "I think you're wasting my time. I think you dragged me halfway across the galaxy to set me up."
Zero trembled with fear. "No. I didn't. I swear.” He took a breath. "Skinner will show. Just give it time.”
“Why do you think that?"
“Because he's sweet on one of the girls here. He can't stop talking about her. Savannah.”
It wasn’t long before Skinner stepped out of an automated car and strolled into the club.
Zero's face lit up with glee. "What did I tell you?"
Max holstered her pistol and crossed the street, dodging the flow of driverless cars. They had to brake. Sensors would detect the instant a person stepped into the roadway, and predictive modeling algorithms scanned the sidewalks evaluating the probability that a pedestrian may cross the roadway.
A burly bouncer stopped Max at the door. "No weapons."
Max looked up at him with a pouty face. "Aw, you're not going to leave an innocent girl defenseless, are you?"
"I don't make the rules, sweetheart."
"How about I give you the charge magazine?"
"There's a locker where you can check your weapon. Hand it over, or you're not getting in."
Max frowned and reluctantly unholstered her pistol. She placed it in the big guy's palm, and he escorted her to the cash register. He gave the pistol to the girl behind the register, and she put it in a locker behind the counter. She slipped Max the key. "Ladies get in free, but its 75 credits for the gentleman."
"Pay the woman," Max said to Zero.
“75 credits is galactic robbery!” Zero said.
The register girl lifted a bitchy eyebrow, “Then don't come in."
Zero grumbled then placed his hand on the pay pad. It scanned his biometric information and debited 75 credits from his account.
"This place is hiring, if you're interested," the register girl said, looking Max up and down. "Talk to Bobby. You could make good money here."
Max smiled. "Thanks."
“I’d pay to see that,” Zero said with a lecherous grin.
"You don't have enough money, Zero."
“You got that right. At least, not after paying this cover.”
Max pushed into the hazy club. Colorful beams of light swept over the crowd and spotlighted the various stages. Music pumped, and gorgeous exotic women displayed their toned bodies for all to see.
Max caught sight of Skinner. She was careful to stay out of his view. She took a seat across the club from him. She had a direct line of sight. In this environment, he was going to be too preoccupied to notice her.
Max shook her head transforming into a blonde again.
"That's a neat trick. How do you do that?"
“Just a talent I was born with.” Max winked.
“I bet your boyfriend never gets bored. It's like a different girl every night."
"I don't have a boyfriend."
"Good to know," Zero flashed an optimistic grin.
Max's eyes narrowed and her face tensed as she watched Skinner. “I've got half a mind to walk over there and beat the information out of him.”
“He'll never give up Riley’s location. He's one tough son-of-a-bitch. You're going to have to follow him and see where he goes."
“We don't have a lot of time,” Max said. “As soon as Zane finds out we're not headed for the X50 Summit, Riley's as good as dead."
A gorgeous redhead threw her arms around Skinner and planted a fat kiss on his cheek. Her eyes sparkled and she looked genuinely happy to see him, but that could've been a result of the stack of credits he handed her. She sat on his lap and the two shared a drink and some laughs for a few minutes. Then she stood up and peeled off what remained of her skintight clothing. This had to be Savannah.
Zero was quite enamored with her mesmerizing movements. He looked like his eyes were going to pop out of their sockets as he stared from across the room. Max could only imagine his reaction had he been up close and personal with the exotic entertainer.
A blue Teplavian woman sauntered up to Zero and pushed her ample chest into his face. “Would you like some company?”
Zero nodded, in a trance.
“No.” Max’s stern voice rumbled across the table.
“Yes,” Zero countered.
“No.”
“You're not the boss of me,” Zero said. “Besides, we’re undercover. We need to blend in."
“You’re a cop?” the dancer shrieked.
“No, no. We are not cops. We’re trying to stay incognito. We're hoping no one recognizes us.” Zero leaned in and whispered in the woman's ear, “We are a little famous. Trying to keep everything on the down low.”
The dancer arched a skeptical eye at him. “I don't recognize either one of you."
“We’re big on Vega Epsilon.”
“Right,” she said, her voice thick with sarcasm. She spun around and sauntered away.
“Hey, wait!” Zero cried. But it was too late. She was on to her next customer.
“See, I just saved you a ton of money,” Max said.
“You just cost me a good time. She was totally into me.”
“Kind of like she's totally into that guy," Max said, pointing at the next table over. The dancer had already extracted payment from the man and was moving through her seductive routine.
“You are no fun to party with.” Zero pouted.
"We’re here on business.”
“No. You're here on business. I'm being kidnapped."
Max's eyes snapped to him, blazing with fury. "Kidnapped? Oh, don't get me started. You're lucky I don't have my pistol right now.”
“Yeah, that reminds me. I could just get up and head for the door. You couldn't do a damn thing about it.” Zero started to stand.
“Sit back down!" Max barked.
His ass hit the chair before the last word left Max’s lips. “Yes, ma’am.” He hung his head like a scolded child.
The waitress brought another round of drinks, and Max continued to spy on Skinner. It took a few hours, but he apparently spent his limit. He pushed up from the chair and hugged the redhead. She gave him another kiss on the cheek, and Skinner slipped her a card key to his hotel room. She batted her sultry eyes at him as he bid her farewell.
Max watched Skinner stroll towards the exit, averting her gaze as he passed by the table. Skinner was completely oblivious to Max's presence.
Zero ogled the beauty on the main stage.
Max reached across the table and smacked Zero’s shoulder. “We’re Oscar Mike.”
Zero frowned and pulled himself out of the chair, following after Max. She kept her distance as she tailed Skinner out of the club. She stopped at the counter and retrieved her weapon.
Skinner slipped into an automated car and sped away. Max flagged down the next car and piled into the back seat with Zero. “Follow that grey Vultra, license B6-3450-FH.”
“How did you catch the plate number? You've got some kind of vision,” Zero said, impressed.
“I'm sorry, ma'am," an automated voice said. "I need an actual destination. Please tell me the street number of your destination, the cross streets, or the name of the establishment."
Max clenched her jaw, frustrated. She was stuck sitting at the curb hassling with an AI while Skinner disappeared into the night.
14
“I need you to follow the Vultra,” Max said. “It's an emergency!”
The car responded. "Okay. You said this is an emergency. Is that correct?"
“Yes, that's correct."
“I will attempt to follow the vehicle. A grey Vultra, license B6-3450-FH. Is that correct?"
"Yes," Max yelled in frustration. "Go. Now!”
“Without a destination, I cannot estimate the total fare.”
“That's fine.”
“Please place your thumb on the pay pad to authorize payment and consent to unspecified charges.”
Max placed her thumb on the pad. The name Abigail Alexander flashed on the screen alongside Max's picture.
Zero’s face twisted up. “Abigail?”
“Shut up."
“I thought your name was Max?”
“What part of shut up do you not understand?”
“Can you morph finger prints?” Zero started to connect the dots. “I mean, you can change your hair color… what about your eyes?”
Max glanced at him, and her eyes transformed from blue to brown, then back again. She shook her hair and it turned brunette.
“Whoa, that’s a pretty neat trick.”
Max was an all-cash type of person, but there were situations in which she had to bio-authorize payment. She had the ability to mimic any fingerprint pattern that she sampled. She kept a burner identity that she used for such transactions. Max would deposit enough money in the burner account to use for a month or two, then dump the identity and get a new one. It was safer that way. She liked to move about the galaxy without leaving a paper trail.
The payment cleared, and the car finally sped away from the curb, zipping through traffic. It weaved in and out of other automatic cars on the roadway. Bright lights from the bars and clubs flashed against the windows. Skyscrapers towered overhead forming a canyon of steel and glass. The sleek, angular city was beautiful at night. The architecture was stunning. It was functional artwork.
Max’s eyes fixed on the roadway ahead, keeping an eye on the Vultra. They were catching up.
The automated voice spoke again. "If this is a medical emergency, may I suggest Arcturus General Hospital. Emergency facilities are operational 24 hours a day."
“Keep following the Vultra.”
“Yes, Abigail.”
Zero chuckled. “If you can sample fingerprints, why not just run up a tab on somebody else's nickel?”
“I’m not a thief,” Max said. "I hate thieves."
The automated car chased the Vultra to an industrial section of the city. Grimy warehouses and processing plants. Max watched Skinner's car drive to a security checkpoint at a massive refinery. After checking his identification, the guard waved Skinner through. The car dropped him off at the main entrance, then left.
“Pull over here," Max said.
The car complied, stopping a few blocks from the guard gate. “Total fair, 325 credits. Thank you for your business."
Max pushed Zero out of the car and stepped onto the curb. Their ride sped away.
“Now what?" Zero asked.
Max surveyed the refinery, formulating her game plan. The night air was still and heavy. They were far away from the hustle and bustle of downtown. The streets were empty. Gray clouds billowed out of tall smokestacks. A glowing force-shield lined the perimeter. The only way in was through the main gate, or so it seemed.
“What's Skinner doing here anyway? This is a rather odd place to visit in the middle of the night. Do you think this is where they are keeping Riley?”
Zero shrugged. “Like I said before. I just fly the transports. The rest of this stuff is beyond me. I’ve never met the big boss.”
Max’s eyes fixed on a manhole cover on the sidewalk. She knelt beside, slipping her fingers into the grip holes and heaved the heavy iron cover aside. Years of grid and corrosion had sealed the rim of the cover, but Max moved it with ease.
Zero looked impressed.
A rush of hot swampy air smacked Max in the face like a wet rag. It was like Satan's breath coming up from the depths of hell. The damp musky smell filled her nostrils.
Zero’s face crinkled in disgust. “You're not seriously thinking of going down in there, are you?"
Max’s eyes flicked to another manhole cover well within the perimeter of the refinery. “Looks like the easiest way in."
“I'll just wait here for you.”
Max glared at him.
“Okay, okay.”
Zero reluctantly climbed down into the sewer. Max followed after him and pulled the cover over top.
The storm drain was pitch black. Zero climbed down the ladder and stepped onto a ledge beside the flowing water. It was slick and coated with algae. He slipped on the slimy ledge, and he almost fell into the murky sludge, but Max grabbed onto his sleeve before he took the plunge.
“I can’t see shit down here.”
“It's probably better that way," Max said. Her eyes adjusted quickly to the darkness, giving her a clear view of the area. Enhanced night-vision—another benefit of her genetic modification.
Max pulled out her mobile device and used it to illuminate the area. She figured it would be easier than pulling Zero out of the water every few moments.
The walls were covered in slime. Gooey stalactites hung from the ceiling, looking like stringy snot. Cringe-worthy insects crawled in and out of crevices. Large rat-like varmints squealed through the passageways. There was no telling what was in that water. All kinds of bacteria and fungi, not to mention snakes and other slithering creatures.
Max marched along the ledge and turned at the next junction. She made her way to the next ladder and climbed the rungs. She cautiously lifted the manhole cover just enough to peer out and scan the area. It looked clear. She shoved the iron cover aside, grinding against the concrete. She climbed out of the hole and scurried to a nearby storage tank, taking cover.
Zero followed behind her.
Max advanced down an alleyway, obscured by horizontal pipes and smaller vertical tanks that looked like oversized water heaters. She made her way into the main structure and weaved through a maze of pipe, conduit, and steam.
Max caught sight of Skinner talking to several other men in a small clearing. She hid out of sight behind a large column of pipe.
The men Skinner was talking to didn't look happy. The man in the center was clearly in charge. He wore a white suit that was impeccably tailored. He was surrounded by two minions, dressed in black. It wasn't long before one of them pulled out a plasma pistol and shot Skinner in the head.
15
Skinner's body crashed to the ground. A crimson mist of blood hovered in the air. There wasn't much left of the man's skull. Charred globs of flesh hung from his neck.
“What the hell are you thinking?” The leader of the group yelled.
The minion looked utterly confused. “You said to kill him."
“You fired a plasma pistol in a highly flammable environment. You could have gotten us all killed," the leader said. He smacked the minion on the back of the head.
“What was I supposed to do?” He cowered and rubbed the back of his head.
“Stab him to death," the leader said, exasperated.
"But, I don't have a knife.”
“And that’s my problem how?” The leader shook his head. "Clean this mess up."
Max clenched her jaw. Her stomach tightened with an uneasy sensation. Zane was nowhere in sight. She got the distinct impression that Riley wasn't anywhere near this facility. Skinner was her only link to the girl. Max felt like she might never find her. To make matters worse, she felt the presence of someone behind her.
“Drop the weapon. Now!” the voice behind her commanded.
Max slowly set her pistol on the ground and raised her hands in the air.
The minion marched Zero and Max into the clearing.
“Hey, Boss. Look what I found.”
The boss’s smarmy eyes looked Max up and down. “And who might you be?"
“I'm not with her," Zero said.
The boss glared at him. "I wasn't talking to you.”
“You can call me Max. And you are?”
“Zym Frako." He said it expecting some kind of recognition.
Max stared at him blankly, which seemed to disappoint him.
“Well, Max, it seems either you didn't see, or chose to ignore, the no trespassing signs. How did you get into my facility?”
“Your security sucks."
"Clearly. Thanks for pointing that out.” Zym glared at his minions.
“I don't know how she got in, Boss,” one said.
“The sewers,“ Max said. “You really need to start thinking three dimensionally in regards to security."
“I'll keep that in mind,” Zym replied. “Now, do you want to tell me what you're doing here?"
“You don't happen to have a little girl named Riley held hostage here, do you?"
“What do I look like to you, a scumbag?”
Max shrugged.
Zym’s face tightened. “I’m a perfectly legitimate businessman. I don't get involved in that kind of stuff.”
Max eyed Skinner’s corpse. “Perfectly legitimate.”
Zym’s eyes narrowed at her. “Okay wise-ass. You've got about five seconds to tell me exactly what you're doing here.”
“I told you. I'm looking for a girl. If she's not here, I'm happy to go about my way.”
“Oh, you're happy to go about your way, are you?” He scoffed. "Keep dreaming. You know what I think? I think you work for Vaax. I think you came with Skinner as a backup.”
“Who’s Vaax?”
“Don't play dumb with me. Vaax has screwed me over for the last time.” He motioned to a minion. “Carl, take these two outside—away from the storage tanks—and kill them both.”
Zero's eyes widened. “I'm telling you, I got nothing to do with her. She forced me to come here at gunpoint.”
“Carl, shut him up.”
Carl planted his fist into Zero’s face. His head popped back, and his nose shattered, spewing blood.
“Ah, man. Not cool,” Zero’s nasally voice sounded like a muted trumpet. He hunched over in pain.
“You're making a mistake," Max said.
“No. I'm sending a message to Vaax.”
One of the minions, Jasper, scooped up Skinner’s body and hefted it over his shoulder. Carl and another minion dragged Max and Zero through the refinery, pushing them past the rows of flammable tanks.
“So, Carl, is it?” Max asked.
“Shut up and keep moving.” He kept his gun aimed at her as he marched them through the forest of piping.
“I was thinking maybe you could tell me more about Vaax?”
Carl said nothing.
“What's the harm? You’re going to kill me in a few moments anyway."
“Stop with the charade. You both work for Vaax. And you're both going to die. That fat bastard thinks he can push us around, short us on shipments—he's got another thing coming.”
“Trust me, I like Vaax even less than you do,” Max said.
“I've never met the guy,” Zero added. “Just saying."
Carl marched them into a field behind the main processing plant.
Jasper threw Skinner’s body down to the gravel.
"Get on your knees!” Carl shouted.
The other minion shoved Max and Zero to the ground.
Carl pressed the barrel of his plasma pistol against the back of Max's head. His finger gripped the trigger.
“Are you sure you want to do this?” Max asked. “I’ll give you one last chance to change your mind."
16
Carl was about to vaporize Max's head. She knelt on the dirt. The tall stadium lights from the factory cast long shadows on the ground. Max could see Carl's outline on the gravel.
Max shifted aside as Carl squeezed the trigger. The plasma bolt blazed past her ear, sizzling her flesh. It erupted against the ground, showering gravel and dust.
Max spun around and grabbed the barrel, twisting the weapon around. Carl's finger snapped in the trigger guard, bent beyond its limit. Max swept his feet from underneath him. Carl crashed to the ground.
Max stripped the weapon.
The other minion took aim at Max and fired. Another plasma bolt ripped past her, carving a groove into the outside of her thigh.
Max dropped to one knee and returned fire, eviscerating the goon.
Carl sprang to his feet and charged Max.
She swung the barrel around and blasted off two bolts. Both of them burned through Carl's abdomen—one right after the other. The first one blazed the path, and the second one sailed right on through, untouched.
Carl clutched his gut and toppled to the gravel. He almost crashed down on top of Max.
The second plasma bolt that she had fired continued on toward the refinery. It impacted one of the flammable tanks.
Max's eyes went wide. "Oh, shit!”
The tank erupted in a brilliant ball of flame. An amber glow lit the area. The blast rumbled the ground. Black smoke billowed into the sky. Bits of twisted metal and debris showered in all directions. Glowing embers fluttered with the breeze.
But that was just the beginning.
The next tank exploded, then the next. It set off a chain reaction, cascading to the main facility. Each explosion a blistering inferno. But the small tanks paled in comparison to the massive detonation of the refinery.
The blast was deafening. The overpressure knocked Max and Zero to the ground. Scorching heat from the explosion covered the area. Max felt like a marshmallow roasting over a fire. The brilliant amber ball of flame was like the surface of the sun. The area was bathed in a blinding light. Large chunks of equipment and piping launched into the sky. The perimeter force-field flickered and died.
Max and Zero scurried for cover as debris rained down on them—smoldering bits of metal that could melt through flesh. It was the first of many large explosions that rumbled through the facility.
After the last blast died down, the area was engulfed in flames. The large smokestacks toppled to the ground like mammoth trees. Metal creaked and groaned as the fire crackled and popped. The hazy air was filled with smoke and noxious fumes. Toxic vapors from refining chemicals clouded the area.
Max coughed and wheezed as her lungs filled with the vile fumes. Her eyes were red and watery.
Zero gasped for breath. “When you fuck shit up, you really fuck shit up.”
Max staggered toward the fire—pain shooting through her thigh from the plasma wound.
Zero looked at her like she was crazy. "Where you going?"
“To find Zym. He is our only hope of finding Vaax.”
Zero didn't want any part of that. He stayed right where he was.
Max pushed into the blazing inferno. She covered her face with her arm as a wave of searing heat washed over her. It felt like her skin was going to dry out and crack. Blisters had already formed from the plasma burn on her cheek. She staggered through the smoldering passageways, looking for Zym. She crouched low, trying to avoid the suffocating smoke. With her enhanced lung capacity and regenerative powers, she would last longer than most in this environment. But she wasn't immune from the hazards. She owed the universe a death, just like everybody else. One day, her number would be up. She hoped it wouldn't be today.
Most of the chemicals had already been burned off, and the fire was slowly dying down without fuel. All that remained of the refinery were twisted and mangled pipes—some of them glowing red from the heat. Others were blackened and charred.
Max finally found Zym’s body. His legs were crushed under a massive pipe. His blistered skin was black and red and oozing. He was barely alive, struggling to suck in breaths of precious air. There was no saving him. Even if Max could lift the pipe, Zym would die from his burns. Max knelt down beside him. “Where can I find Vaax?”
He tried to say something, but Max couldn’t make out his faint voice. She put her ear close to his lips.
“Fuck you,” he choked out.
“Riley is going to die if I don't find where he’s keeping her.”
Zym wheezed in another breath. He muttered a few more words, but they were inaudible.
“Please! You've got to help me!”
17
Whatever Zym knew about Vaax’s whereabouts he took to the grave with him. The last bit of air slipped from his lungs and his body went still.
Max made her way out of the inferno, back to where she left Zero. She fully expected him to be gone. He was sitting on the ground watching the ruins burn. “You find Zym?”
“Sort of.” The sullen look on Max’s face said it all. She plopped on the ground beside Zero and sulked. Her eyes brimmed, and tears rolled down her cheeks. She sobbed for a moment, feeling like any chance to save Riley had gone up in flames.
Zero gazed at her with compassion. "I'm really sorry.”
“Yeah, right," Max said, her voice thick with sarcasm.
“No, seriously. I mean it. I'm sorry. I think it's terrible that they kidnapped the little girl. I didn't sign on for that kind of stuff.”
Max wasn't buying a word of it.
“Look, times are tough. I took a job flying transports. It paid a lot of money, and I didn’t ask any questions. Nobody pays those kind of rates for anything legal, so I can't say I didn't know I was getting into something shady. But hey… it is what it is. And I am sorry.” Zero took a deep breath. "I hope you find the girl. I really do." He sounded sincere enough.
Max sat deep in thought, grasping for some way to make a connection to Vaax.
“I'm as good as dead, you know.”
“How so?”
“When they find out I failed to get you to the X50 Summit, Zane's going to kill me. I've got no doubts about that.
Max’s eyes fell upon Skinner's corpse. A small glimmer of hope flickered across her face. She rushed to the body and rummaged through his pockets. She found his wallet, his mobile, and the card key to his hotel. A logo on the key read The Hyton Plaza Arcturus.
“Come on,” Max said. “Let's see what we can find back in his hotel room.”
Skinner had a posh suite that overlooked the city. Floor-to-ceiling windows offered a panoramic view. The night lights flickered in a dazzling array of colors. Max rummaged through drawers and luggage, looking for any clue that might lead them to Vaax’s location. She left no stone unturned, and after going through everything twice she finally gave up. She stormed into the living room and made a beeline for the minibar—she wasn't going to have to pay for it. She found a couple small bottles of whiskey and poured herself a drink. She sat on the couch, head in hands. “I can’t find a damn thing.”
“What about his mobile?"
“He's got two-stage authentication. I sampled his fingerprints, and that got me past the first stage with touch ID. But he's got an alphanumeric password.” She sighed. "Winston might be able to crack it, but there's no telling where he is, or if he's even still functional.”
Max looked crestfallen. She touched the burn on her cheek, and she winced. It still stung like hell, as did the her wounded thigh. She guzzled the whiskey down. She ambled back to the minibar for another round. “What do you know about Vaax?”
“Nothing,” Zero said. “I didn’t even know his name until today. The guy has always been shrouded in secrecy. That way if anything goes down, nothing can be traced back to him.”
“Why does he want the president of the Federation dead?”
“Maybe he doesn't like his politics?"
Max slugged another glass of whiskey down. It wasn’t Antarian, but it would have to do.
The click of a key inserted into the locking mechanism of the door interrupted her train of thought. Max drew her pistol and took cover behind the wall at the end of the entrance foyer.
The door flung open and the redhead from the strip club breezed in. She had a mischievous grin on her face. Her luscious hip swung from side to side as she sauntered through the foyer. “Baby, are you ready for me?”
As she crossed the threshold into the living room, Max greeted her with a plasma pistol. “We certainly are.”
The redhead’s sultry smile faded. “Who are you, and what do you want? Where’s Skinner?”
“My name is Max. You're going to tell me everything you know about your boyfriend.”
“He's not my boyfriend," she said in a flippant tone.
18
“Is he really dead?” the redhead asked, tears streaming down her cheeks. Her voice was soft and breathy. Even upset, her voice had a seductive quality. She sounded ditzy, but she was anything but. Her eyes were puffy and red and her nose was runny. She sat on the couch, blotting her eyes with a tissue.
“I'm afraid so," Max said. She handed her another tissue, while keeping the gun aimed at her.
“You know you don't have to keep the damn thing pointed at me."
Max figured she wasn't going to cause too much trouble—nothing she couldn't handle anyway. She holstered her weapon and sat across the coffee table on the opposite couch.
“What's your name?" Max asked.
“Savannah,” she sniffled.
“No, you’re real name,” Zero asked.
“Savannah Love. What does it matter?"
“You gotta be shitting me. I thought that was a stage name.”
“How close were you with Skinner?" Max asked.
“He was a really good client, you know.” Savannah sniffled again. “I’m going to miss him. He came in every week, and he tipped really well. He was taking me away for the weekend.”
Max's eyes perked up. "Where?”
“Vega Altair. He said he had some business with his boss, but then we could spend the rest of the weekend together. He was going to take me to the Velnar Canyons. It’s supposed to be really romantic.”
“What else did he say about his boss? Vaax right?”
She shrugged. "I don't know. I didn't really pay attention.”
“Do you know where his boss is?”
“Sol Vangel. At least, I think that's where he is. That's where we were scheduled to fly into. We were going to stay there for a day, then go to the canyons.”
“Sol Vangel is a big place. Do you know specifically where his boss is?”
Savannah looked at Max like she was crazy. “I can barely find my way around my apartment, much less one of the largest cities on Vega Altair.”
“Figures,” Zero muttered.
Savannah face crinkled up. "Hey, you trying to say I'm stupid?”
"Well, if your choice of men is any indication…”
Savannah was offended. “Skinner was a nice guy. And I'll have you know, I'm working on my PhD in molecular biology.”
Zero burst into laughter. "Doctor Love. That's classic."
“Keep laughing, Cheese Ball.” Savannah scowled at him. “You watch. I'm going to be a doctor. And I'm not going to have to work in that sleaze pit. You'll see.”
Zero put his hands in the air, surrendering the battle. “Touchy.”
“I have no doubt you will be successful," Max said. "Thanks for your help.” She looked to Zero. "Come on, Cheese Ball. Let's go.”
Zero scrunched his face up. “For the record, I find Cheese Ball mildly offensive.”
“Good. I'll keep using it.” Max pushed off the couch and strolled toward the exit. Zero followed behind, after he grabbed a beer from the mini-fridge.
They made their way back to the spaceport. The SpaceHawk was perched in an open air bay that allowed for vertical takeoff and landing. The baldheaded guy who had followed Max from Orion station was waiting for them. He and several other goons blocked the entry ramp to the SpaceHawk. As soon as Max and Zero stepped into the bay, several other goons followed them in.
Max’s face tensed. "Is there something I can help you with?"
The goons circled around her. The bay began to feel claustrophobic.
“As a matter of fact, there is," the baldheaded man said. "It seems you owe Mr. Raymond a considerable amount of money."
Max arched an eyebrow at him. "Excuse me? I don't even know a Mr. Raymond"
“Well, he knows you. He makes a habit of keeping track of everyone who owes him."
“I think there’s been some kind of mistake. Now if you'll excuse me, I've got somewhere to be."
The baldheaded guy didn't budge. He continued to block her path. The rest of the goons prepared for conflict.
"Look, if this is some kind of shakedown, you're messing with the wrong person." Max's crystal eyes burned into him.
“I can assure you, this is no shakedown. It's unfortunate for you, but the moment you killed Chesney, you inherited his debt to Mr. Raymond."
Max cringed. "I call bullshit."
"You can call it whatever you want. But the fact remains that your actions have cost Mr. Raymond a substantial sum."
“Maybe Mr. Raymond should be more careful who he loans money to?”
”And maybe you should be more careful who you terminate."
“Sorry. It's just an involuntary reaction I have to douche-bags. I can't stop myself."
"Maybe you should have that looked into?”
"It's an incurable affliction. A compulsion really. In fact, I feel the urge to terminate a douche-bag right now." Max palmed the grip of her pistol.
Within seconds, the goons all had their weapons aimed at Max—angry barrels ready to blast off blazing bolts of molten death. Maybe she ought to slowly remove her hand from her pistol, she thought. But backing down wasn’t her style.
19
"There's no need for hostilities," the baldheaded man said. "Not yet anyway."
Max loosened her grip on the pistol.
“You've got 24 hours to get Mr. Raymond his money.”
“I'm a little busy at the moment,” Max said.
“That is of no concern to Mr. Raymond."
“How much did Chesney owe?”
“1,233,387 credits. But Mr. Raymond is willing to settle for an even million.”
Max's eyes bulged out of their sockets. "You expect me to come up with a million credits in 24 hours?"
“That should be no problem for a resourceful woman such as yourself.”
“How do you suggest I do that?”
"Steal it. Use your imagination. Look around you… this is the land of opportunity.”
Max clenched her jaw. "You tell Mr. Raymond he's not going to get shit from me.”
The bald man sighed. “If that's what you wish, I will relay the message. Though, I highly advise you to reconsider.” He handed her a business card. It was a thin piece of smart glass that would make a direct connection to his mobile. “My name is Xavier, but my friends call me Mr. X. Let me know if you change your mind. “Either way, we’ll be in touch.” He glanced at his watch. “23 hours and 57 minutes. Provided Mr. Raymond doesn't decide to have you killed first."
Xavier motioned to his crew. They filtered out of the bay, keeping their weapons aimed at Max until they were clear.
“Making friends, I see,” Zero teased.
“Shut up.”
“Is there anybody in the galaxy that likes you?”
Max shot him a look and strolled up the ramp of the SpaceHawk.
Zero followed after her. "So, what are you going to do? Mr. Raymond is not a guy that you want pissed off at you.”
“You know him?”
“Only by reputation. And if I were you, I’d find a way to come up with that money.” Zero pressed a button on the bulkhead and closed the ramp behind them.
“Well, worst case scenario, they can only kill me once." Max strolled to the cockpit.
Zero followed behind. “Oh, no. Mr. Raymond is not gonna kill you. Not right away. He likes to make an example out of deadbeats. That's why nobody's dumb enough not to pay him.”
“I guess I’m pretty stupid,” she said confidently.
“Yes. You are.” Zero slipped into the pilot's seat. “If I were you, I’d call that Mr. X back right now. Tell him you'll have the money on time. Rob a bank. Hijack a cargo ship. Do what you gotta do.”
“What I've got to do is rescue Riley. Anything else is a distraction. Now get us to Vega Altair as fast as possible.”
“Aye, aye, sir,” Zero said, mocking her. He flipped switches and pressed buttons, powering up the craft. The dash came alive with glowing backlit gauges. Smart panels lit up with an array of instrumentation. Zero went through the pre-fight checks, and after a few moments, the system came back green.
The ship rumbled as he powered up the massive thrusters. Bulkheads rattled and shook as he lifted off the ground. He angled the craft skyward and throttled up. The force slammed Max against the back of her seat. She figured it was a good time to strap into her safety harness.
The vehicle rocketed through the upper atmosphere. A patch of turbulence rattled the ship and the bulkhead creaked and groaned. The quaking ended as they entered space. Max lifted in her seat, her hips and shoulders pressing against the safety belt in the weightless environment. She took out her mobile and dialed Agent Grant while Zero was programming in the jump coordinates to Vega Altair.
“Kirk said he never heard from you. Is everything okay?” The connection was somewhat patchy. Agent Grant’s face distorted in and out on Max’s display screen.
“Well, things have gotten a little complicated."
Grant frowned. "When you say complicated, I think total disaster."
“That wouldn’t be far from the truth,” Max said.
“I ran some checks on your friend that was killed. From what I can tell, he was clean. He didn't owe anybody any money. He didn't have any dealings with any shady characters. Distinguished service career. An honorable discharge. Left the Secret Service with high praises.”
“That's exactly why they wanted to use him.”
“Who’s they?” Grant asked. "And use him for what?”
“I need you to contact the Secret Service. They need to increase the president’s security detail. But they need to do it without looking like they’re increasing security."
Agent Grant’s eyes narrowed at her. "What are you into?"
Max filled him in on the situation.
“Let me send some agents. This is too big for you.”
“No. The minute they think I've tipped off the feds, they’ll kill Riley. Right now, they think I'm on my way to the X50 Summit to kill the president. And it needs to stay that way."
Grant grimaced.
“What can you find out about a guy named Vaax?”
"Hang on. Let me search the database.” A few moments later, the system came up with a hit. “Vaax Votran. This has to be the guy. Looks like he's into drug and weapons trafficking. Seems pretty highly connected. Has a lot of politicians on the payroll. Federation Department of Justice has a file on this guy a mile-long. Looks like he’s currently under investigation.”
“Where can I find him?”
20
“We believe Vaax’s base of operation is Sekar 7,” Grant said. “But that's not a Federation territory. We have no jurisdiction there.”
“Nothing is out of my jurisdiction," Max said.
Agent Grant studied his computer screen. "It looks like we've got an informant on Sekar 7. Mario Keene. Find him. He might be able to lead you to Vaax. I'm sending his info over now."
Max's mobile buzzed with the transmission of the data packet.
“This Vaax guy is bad news. Are you sure I can’t talk you out of this?”
Max shook her head. "Nope.”
“Be careful out there.”
Max smiled. "Always."
“You heard the man. It looks like were going to Sekar 7.”
“So, forget Vega Altair?”
“It looks like Savannah lied.”
“What reason would she have to lie?”
“That is a good question.” One that Max didn't have an answer for.
Zero programmed in the jump coordinates. The SpaceHawk vanished into slide-space, leaving a quantum ripple in its wake. The ship emerged several hours later at Sekar 7. It was a giant blue orb with vast oceans. Sprawling mega-metropolises were built on floating platforms. Expansive cities that were like giant floating ocean liners. They were so massive that you couldn't really detect the motion of the seas, except during extreme weather conditions. Power for the mega-city was derived from hydro-electrics. And Sekar 7 was known the galaxy over for its vast array of seafood delicacies. The best sushi in the galaxy could be found on Sekar 7—of which, the premier delicacy was Makura Naki. Though, if prepared wrong, it could cause instantaneous death. Eating it was like a badge of courage.
The SpaceHawk rumbled and shook as it entered the atmosphere. Zero plummeted the craft down to the surface, then raced above the ocean. Nepulto emerged out of the mist—a city twice the size of New York floating on the water. Zero blazed over the towering skyscrapers.
“Nepulto traffic control, this is SpaceHawk 1-1-7, requesting permission to land," Zero said into the comm line.
A few moments later a voice crackled back. “1-1-7, this is tower control, you are cleared to land. Bay 165."
"Thank you."
Zero plunged the spacecraft toward the spaceport located in the center of the city. Heat distorted below the vertical thrusters as the SpaceHawk descended to the tarmac. Hydraulics compressed under the massive weight of the craft as the landing gear touched down.
Zero powered down the ship.
Max unbuckled her safety harness and sprang from her seat. She marched down the entrance ramp and was greeted by a service bot. "Welcome to the Nepulto Central Spaceport. The docking fee is 500 credits per day. We also have full maintenance facilities available at an additional charge." The robot held out a pay-pad. "Please authorize the charges, and your account will automatically be debited."
Max placed her thumb on the bio-scanner. A moment later, a light flashed green.
"Transaction complete," the robot said. "Enjoy your stay here on Nepulto. If I can be of any further assistance please let me know. My name is Elijah. I am here to serve you.” The robot handed her his business card.
“Thank you," Max said.
The robot marched away.
Zero stumbled down the ramp.
The air was thick and humid, and filled with the salty smell of seawater. Seagulls hung overhead, squawking, looking for handouts from the intergalactic travelers.
Max studied the files on Mario that Grant had sent her. Mario ran a small auto parts store on the east side of town. It was clearly a front for nefarious activity. The parts were cheap, second-rate knockoffs, and the store was always empty. Mario’s shop was in a terrible part of the city.
Max and Zero caught an automated car and zipped across town. It was easy to forget you were on a platform in the middle of a vast ocean. It looked like any other land-based metropolis. There were tall buildings, busy streets, and hordes of people packed into over-cramped spaces. The city had only one way to grow, and that was up. The city had been meticulously planned, and all the structures were modular. Expansion was relatively easy with prefabricated components. The city was sleek and stylish, but it did have a repetitive look, as many sections of town resembled one another.
Max marched through the front door of Mario’s shop and an automated chime rang out. The place was packed with parts—circuit boards, servos, hydraulics, cables, gears, rims, tires, filters, pads, rotors, valves, gaskets, power cells, and just about anything else you’d need to repair automated vehicles.
There was no one behind the counter. It took a few minutes for Mario to emerge from the backroom.
Max eyed her mobile device, comparing the image of Mario on her phone. The software did a facial recognition analysis for confirmation. There was no doubt about it. This was the man she was looking for.
"Mario?" Max asked.
"How can I help you?"
"I'm looking for a guy named Vaax.”
A glimmer of recognition sparkled in Mario's eyes. "I don't know anybody by that name."
"I think you do."
Mario’s face tensed. ”Who are you?"
"If you want to stay in the good graces of the Federation, I think you'll tell me what I want to know."
Mario grimaced. “You assholes have no jurisdiction here."
"I'm not a Federation agent. I don't have to play by any rules."
“What do you want?"
"I want you to tell me where I can find Vaax.”
"What do you want to speak with him for?"
"None of your goddamn business." Max's fierce eyes blazed into him.
"Well, I can tell you he's not here."
"I was told that you could tell me where I might find him.”
“Then somebody told you wrong."
“Just do as she says, buddy," Zero said. "It will go a lot easier for you. Trust me."
Mario hesitated for a moment. He looked into Max's fierce eyes. He could tell this was a woman he didn't want to mess with. "I've got his address written down. Let me go get it for you."
"Thank you. I appreciate your cooperation." Max's pleasant tone was a subtle veneer that barely covered a threat of extreme violence.
Mario backed away from the counter and slipped into the back room. After a few moments, Max heard the back door open and close. Mario's muffled footsteps disappeared down the alley.
"That son-of-a-bitch!" Max hopped the counter, sprinted through the back room and pushed out into the alley.
She caught sight of Mario rounding the corner at the end of the building. She sprinted after him. Her legs pumped. Her heart pounded. Her chest heaved in breaths of air as she turned the corner, chasing the man down the narrow alley. She raced past garbage bags and dumpsters and empty cardboard boxes that had been used to ship merchandise.
Mario was fast and nimble. He darted into the roadway, forcing the automatic cars to come to a screeching halt. He crossed the street and disappeared down another alleyway.
Max hit the roadway just about the time the cars started moving again. They abruptly halted, sensing her presence. Automated voices blasted from the cars’ PA systems, “Danger. You could have been involved in an accident. Please be more aware of your surroundings."
Max plunged into the alleyway after Mario. She was gaining on him. It didn't matter how fast Mario was, his muscles would tire out long before Max’s.
Mario reached the next street. He put his shoulder into a guy that was mounting a hover bike by the curb. The owner tumbled to the street, and Mario straddled the crotch rocket. He twisted the throttle, and the sport bike launched into the roadway, leaving Max in the dust.
Max was fast, but she wasn't as fast as a sport bike.
21
The owner of the sport bike dug into his pocket and pulled out his mobile. He swiped the screen and launched an anti-theft app. It allowed him to shut down the bike’s functions and safely pull it to the side of the road.
Mario slammed the handlebars in frustration. He hopped off the bike as it reached the curb and sprinted down the sidewalk.
Max grinned and continued chasing after him.
Mario plowed through the sea of pedestrians on the sidewalk.
"Hey buddy, watch it!" a guy shouted as Mario barreled over him.
Mario kept running. He glanced over his shoulder with wide eyes to see Max gaining on him. He ducked into another alleyway. Max kept chasing him, twisting and turning through alleys and passageways.
Mario heaved for breath. His lungs burned, and his legs ached. The cramp in his side caused him to limp. He was running out of steam.
Max caught up with him at the seawall. It was the edge of the city. Max grabbed Mario and dangled him over the edge, holding him up by his ankle. Mario's keys and wallet fell out of his pockets. A hundred feet below, waves crashed against the hull of the mega-city. The water below was filled with all manner of deadly creatures. Vicious sleraks with teeth like razors.
Mario screeched in terror. "I'll tell you anything you want know. Just pull me back over."
"Where can I find Vaax?"
Max let her grip go slack, and Mario fell about an inch.
Mario panicked. "Okay. Okay. I'll help you find him. Just pull me back over, now."
"You tell me what I want to know, then I'll pull you back over. That's how this works."
"One of Vaax’s guys handles the transactions. I’ve never met anyone else.”
"What kind of business?"
“I import parts loaded with hervoxin. Every week, Vaax’s guy brings me a stack of cash, and I give him a shipment. You could follow him back to Vaax."
Max pulled Mario up and over the ledge. He had damn near pissed himself. He was trembling with fear, but being back on solid ground was a soothing relief.
"When's the next time a shipment is due?"
"I'm supposed to meet with Vaax’s guy day after tomorrow."
Max's face tensed. "That's too late. Call your contact. Tell him you got a shipment in today."
"But I don't have a shipment in today."
"That's not my problem. Just make the call."
"I'm a dead man if I do that.”
“You’re a dead man if you don't."
Max dragged Mario back to the store. Zero was sitting on the counter chowing down greasy Nova York style cheese pizza. Red sauce dribbled down his chin. His cheeks were puffed out like a chipmunk, full of the gooey delight. The air reeked of majuva herb. Zero had clearly been toking it up. His eyes were glassy red slits. “Took you long enough,” he mumbled through a mouthful. “I was beginning to think he had gotten away."
“I think you know me better than that,” Max said with a grin.
“Want a slice?”
“Don’t mind if I do,” Mario said.
“Not you, jackass,” Zero barked.
Max took a slice of pizza. She eyed the cheesy delight hesitantly, then glanced to Zero with a heavy dose of caution.
“I didn't do anything to it. I swear.”
Max took a tiny bite. Her eyes lit up with pleasant surprise. It was good. It was the closest thing she had to real Nova York pizza in a long time.
Mario looked like a sad puppy dog as he watched the two chomp down the pizza.
“Make the call. Now!” Max commanded.
“I really think it's better if we just wait until the scheduled time. It's going to look suspicious otherwise."
“Do it."
Mario sighed. “Okay. I hope you know what you're getting yourself into.”
“Trust me,” Zero muttered. “She knows. And she gives zero fucks.”
Mario pulled out his mobile and dialed his contact. “Hey, it's me.”
“What do you want?” The man on the display screen looked like he was a mix of Trevluvan and Suvartex. He had bluish skin that looked almost reptilian. He had sharp fangs and narrow golden eyes.
“Merchandise is in,” Mario said.
“So?”
“Come get it."
"I'll pick it up as scheduled."
“Fine, but it may not be here then."
“Excuse me?" The man's face crinkled.
“I don't like keeping that stuff around the shop any longer than I have to. I got another offer from someone wanting to pick it up today. And quite frankly, they're willing to pay more. I'm giving you first dibs because I like you, Kaal.”
Rage boiled under Kaal’s skin. “I thought we had an exclusive arrangement?”
“And I’m giving you first option to exercise that arrangement.”
There was a long silence as Kaal attempted to contain his anger. He looked like he was about to explode. “Fine. I'll be in today." He disconnected the call.
Mario looked to Max. "Happy? I hope you know what you're doing."
22
Mario swallowed hard as Kaal entered the auto parts store. He tried to hide his nervousness, but his hands had a slight tremor to them.
Kaal fierce eyes scanned the store, making sure the two were alone. "I don't like it when things change. I have a very meticulous schedule, and I like to keep things according to plan."
Mario reached down behind the counter and grabbed the box. He set it on the countertop in front of Kaal.
"Let's get one thing straight. Don't you ever try to play games with me again. I don't care if you've got someone who wants to pay twice what the shipment is worth. If I ordered it, it belongs to me. You got that?"
Mario nodded. "I wasn't really going to sell it to somebody else. I just don't like keeping the stuff around here."
Kaal set a briefcase on the counter. “Count it. It’s all there.”
"No need," Mario said. He forced an awkward smile.
Kaal grabbed the box from the countertop and marched out of the store. He put it in the trunk of a car that was waiting at the curb, then he slipped into the driver’s seat and sped away.
Max and Zero emerged from the back room.
"The minute he digs in that box and discovers there is no hervoxin, I’m screwed.”
“Then you better hope he doesn't look in that box until he leads me to Vaax." Max pulled out her mobile device and launched a tracking app. She had put a tracker in the box. She watched as the icon navigated its way through the city. She unholstered her plasma pistol and aimed it at Mario's forehead. "Now, do I need to vaporize your head, or are you going to keep your mouth shut?”
Mario's eyes were wide with fear. A thin mist of sweat coated his skin. "I'm going to keep my mouth shut. In fact, I think I'm taking the next transport off this overgrown island."
“You’re smarter than you look,” Max said.
Mario took the backhanded compliment. It was the best he was going to get.
“You have any weapons around here?”
“I smuggle drugs, not guns,” Mario said.
Max frowned.
“I do have a crate of CNX-60,” Mario offered, trying to appease the dangerous woman.
Max’s blue eyes perked up. “Perfect.”
Mario disappeared into the storeroom and returned with a carton of the gas canisters.
Max loaded up, and she and Zero marched out of the store. Max flagged down an automated car and the two slipped inside. After several minutes of hassling with the automated driver, she convinced the vehicle to follow her verbal commands navigating through the maze of city streets. The tracking device led them to a warehouse not far from the commercial shipping terminal. Max arrived in time to see Kaal carrying a box inside the warehouse. She had the car drop them off in an alleyway a block over. The car pulled out of the narrow passageway and disappeared into the city.
“Do you recognize this facility at all?
Zero shook his head. “Like I said. I've never met the boss. He could walk past me on the street and I’d never know it.”
Max eyed the warehouse with fierce determination.
"Don't tell me you're going to do what I think you're going to do?" Zero asked.
“I'm going to go in there and get Riley."
“Well, the last time you followed a guy into a building, you damn near turned us into barbecue."
“I don't see anything flammable at this location," Max said casually.
Zero shook his head. "I'll just be waiting right here.”
“That’s probably for the best.”
Max surveyed the warehouse. With her tactical contact lenses, she got a thermal image of the structure. The warehouse was cavernous. There were dozens of people inside, almost all were armed.
Max checked the magazine of her plasma pistol. The magazine was half-empty, or half-full—depending on how you looked at it. Max was neither an optimist, nor a pessimist. She was a realist. She had more than enough projectiles to take out everyone in the facility. That was good enough odds for her.
Max dashed across the street and slipped into an alley beside the warehouse. There was an open window on the third story, but there was no way to get to it. Even with Max's advanced strength and ability, she couldn't jump that high. The building next door had a thick pipe that ran up to the roof, presumably part of the sprinkler system. Max grabbed onto that thick black pipe and pulled herself up. There were couplers every several feet that allowed her to get a better grip. Her palms were blackened from the grimy pipe. She scaled the pipe until she reached the rooftop and pulled herself over the ledge. It was lined with HVAC units, vents, fans and an access door. From this vantage point, she could see the ocean. The edge of the metropolis was several blocks away. The air was hazy, and gulls hovered over the seawall. The whitecaps of the waves dotted the horizon. But far out at sea, a storm was brewing. Heavy gray clouds were heading towards the city. Flashes of lightning sparked in the distance.
Max looked across the alley to the rooftop of the warehouse. It was lined with skylights—some of which were open. She leaned over the edge and glanced down to the alley below. It was a long way down. A fall from this height would break even Max's bones.
Max backed away from the ledge, giving herself plenty of running room. She took a deep breath and focused her attention. Like a track star, she launched from the starting blocks, sprinting towards the ledge. She leapt up, then sprang from the ledge leaping over the chasm. It was 15.9 feet across the alleyway. The Galactic world record for the long jump was more than twice that. But still, it was long enough, and high enough, to be a disconcerting leap.
Max glided through the air and touched down on the other side. She tucked and rolled across the roof, then sprang back to her feet. She hoped her landing didn't draw attention from the occupants below. She scurried to one of the open skylights and peered into the warehouse. Dozens of armed goons marched around the compound, while workers broke down and cut large bricks of hervoxin into small packets for resale. The workers wore latex gloves and face masks, and were completely nude. It was harder to steal the product that way. But it wasn't impossible. Sometimes people would swallow packets, hoping they wouldn't burst, or stick them in places where the sun didn't shine. If they got caught, they’d meet a fate worse than death. And Vaax’s reputation kept most of them from stealing.
Max caught sight of a man that matched Vaax’s description entering an office area toward the back of the warehouse. She zoomed in with her tactical contact lenses. Facial recognition provided a match. This was, indeed, the infamous gangster.
Max squeezed through the skylight. She hung from the rafters, dangling precariously above the warehouse floor below. She swung herself to a nearby catwalk and scurried down the walk to a ladder on the east wall. She tossed several canisters of CNX-60 to various locations throughout the warehouse, then descended the ladder.
The canisters exploded in rapid succession.
Thunk.
They popped off, spouting noxious clouds that quickly filled the warehouse. The air was thick with a milky haze. CNX-60 was an eye and lung irritant. It was nonlethal, but once inhaled, you'd feel like you were dying. Your eyes would burn like fire, and your lungs would tighten, making you gasp for breath. The gas would make mucus pour from your body, and your skin would itch like crazy.
Coughs and wheezes filled the cavernous warehouse as the occupants hacked for breath. They sounded like smokers with a bad case of bronchitis.
Max descended into the mist, seemingly impervious to the effects of the gas. She plowed through the cloudy haze, heading toward the back office.
A goon emerged from the fog, aiming his plasma rifle at Max's head.
Max took aim and squeezed the trigger, blasting off two rounds. The plasma bolts drilled into his chest, exploding out the back of his thoracic cavity. Blood and chunks of gooey organs sprayed a nearby storage container. The thug’s body crashed to the deck.
Max scooped up his plasma rifle and moved through the fog, two-fisted.
More goons were drawn to the weapons fire. They emerged from all directions, surrounding Max. Plasma bolts sizzled through the fog, streaming in her direction.
Max sprayed a flurry of return fire, taking out the first wave. Bodies crashed to the floor, and weapons clattered against the concrete.
Max kept moving, but more thugs materialized from the haze. More plasma bolts streaked toward her. But the shots were wildly off target. Her attackers’ eyes were narrow slits, red and weeping from the irritating gas. Max mowed them down with ease.
Bodies hit the ground, still twitching. Max could hear the shriek of the workers scurrying toward the exit. She continued to slice through the haze to the back office. She kicked in the door and aimed the barrel of her plasma pistol at Vaax. The slimy little weasel was going to tell her where Riley was. If he didn't, he was going to die a slow and painful death.
23
Vaax Voltran’s eyes went wide as Max burst into his office. He was a large man, and his triangular head disappeared into his shoulders. His nose resembled that of a goblin’s, and his skin had the complexion of week old moldy pizza.
Max's whole body tensed. It took every ounce of restraint not to squeezed the trigger and paint the walls with this cretin's blood. “Where’s Riley?”
Max squeeze the trigger, sending a blistering round blazing inches away from the goblin’s head.
He recoiled, clutching his cheek. It was burning from the heat of the plasma bolt. “Ease up, lady. I don't know what you're talking about.”
“Bullshit. Tell me what I want to know, or the next one doesn't miss.”
“I'm telling you. I don't know anybody named Riley.”
“You're trying my patience.”
“I think you've got me confused with someone else.”
“I don't think so. We can do this the easy way, or we can do it the hard way. Which do you prefer?”
“With you, I'll take it anyway I can get it," he said lightheartedly, surveying her with his lecherous eyes.
Max blasted another shot, this time it came even closer to the goblin.
He cowered away from the bolt. “Jeez! Ease up, lady. Look, search the premises. You're more than welcome. There is no one named Riley here.”
“Then where is she?”
Two goons burst in through the door.
Max dispatched them without even looking. Her plasma bolts seared through their chests, and they tumbled to the floor of the office.
The CNX 60 was starting to filter into the office. The goblin coughed and wheezed. He clutched a handkerchief over his nose, trying to filter out the burning fumes. It wasn't helping much. His eyes were leaking, and drool ran from the corner of his mouth. “This isn't doing my asthma any good. Can we have this conversation somewhere else?"
“Tell me where she is?”
“What makes you think I have this girl?"
“Skinner works for you. So does a guy named Zane.”
Vaax’s bloodshot eyes narrowed at her. "Yeah, Skinner works for me.” He could barely choke out the words. "But he works for a lot of people. That's what contractors do. Besides, he’s late checking in. I don't know anybody named Zane.”
Max’s face tensed. She got the distinct feeling he was telling the truth, which was something rare for Vaax. But CNX 60, and being on the wrong end of a plasma pistol, was a good truth serum.
“Why do you want the president dead?"
The goblin’s face twisted up, perplexed. “I don't know what you're talking about. I voted for the guy.” Vaax went into a coughing spasm. Blood speckled the desk as he nearly hacked up a lung. He was in bad shape, having some type of allergic reaction to the gas.
Max was beginning to think that maybe this wasn’t the guy she was looking for.
“It's not me you want,” Vaax wheezed. “But I think I know who you are you looking for.”
“Help me get out of here, and I'll tell you.”
Max hesitated a moment. But she realized Vaax was dying. If he didn't get fresh air soon, he was going to suffocate. His airways were closing up, and his lungs were filling with fluid from the irritation.
Max rushed to his desk and slung his arm over her shoulder. She heaved the big man from his seat and escorted him out of the office. “Hold your breath.”
“If I hold my breath, I'll be dead." Vaax was turning blue. Air whistled through his trachea with each breath. Sweat poured from the goblin’s forehead as he hobbled through the warehouse with Max's assistance. She could almost hear his heart fluttering in his chest. Each breath was a monumental struggle.
It was everything Max could do to keep him from hitting the floor and staying there. “Hang on. We're almost there.”
They made their way through the cloudy haze and burning smoke and spilled onto the sidewalk. Vaax collapsed the moment they hit fresh air.
Max lowered him to the ground as he heaved for breath. His airways were practically shut. He gulped for breath like a fish on dry land. Max wished she had an inhaler to counteract the effects of the CNX 60. She'd give the goblin mouth-to-mouth, but even that wouldn't save him. His airways were too swollen.
“Who else did Skinner work for?”
He muttered a name that was barely audible.
24
“Say the name again?” Max pleaded. She gazed with desperate eyes at the man drowning on dry land.
Vaax attempted to suck in another breath, but it wasn't productive. He mustered his last bit of strength and said the name again. But even with Max's keen hearing, she couldn't quite decipher his weak, breathy voice.
Vaax’s chest stopped heaving. His eyes fixed toward the sky. His face went pale and his lips lost all color.
Max beat on his chest and started compressions, trying to resuscitate him. She placed her mouth over the man's slimy lips, trying to blow life into his lungs. But the gangster was nothing more than a cold sack of bones. He had committed his last crime.
Max tried for several minutes to bring him back, finally giving up. She pounded on his chest in frustration. This was her fault. Riley was going to die because of her. She had failed.
No one in the galaxy could say that Vaax was an innocent man, but this was one kill Max didn't feel good about. Sure, the galaxy was better off without him. Max liked clean, justifiable kills. That's what she was born for. But somehow this seemed a little dirty. A shade of gray. She felt like karma was going to come back and bite her for this one.
Max pulled herself off the sidewalk and left the bloated goblin for the local cops to find. She hustled across the street to meet Zero in the alleyway where she left him. But he was gone.
Her jaw tightened and she clenched her fists. If Zero got word back to Zane, Riley would surely be killed. Max deflated in absolute despair.
A moment later, Zero stepped out from behind the dumpster, tugging on his zipper.
“Sorry, I had to take a leak. So, how did it go?”
“Not as well as planned.”
“Is everyone dead?”
“I'd expect nothing less from you.”
“Riley's not here. We've been following the wrong lead."
“You've been following the wrong lead. I'm just along for the ride.”
Max scowled at him. They caught a car and headed back to the spaceport. Max's solemn face gazed out the window, watching the towering skyscrapers blur by.
“Don't look so down. There's still plenty of time. What have you got, 6 hours until you're supposed to reach the Summit?”
“Something like that," Max mumbled.
"You'll find her. I know you will. I've never met anybody as determined or capable as you. And I've met a lot of bad asses."
An almost imperceptible smile curled up on Max's plush lips. “Thanks."
They made their way back to the spaceport. The robot, Elijah, greeted them as they entered the bay. “Will you be departing today?”
“Yes,” Max said.
“Excellent. I just need you to approve final charges.” The robot handed her a smart tablet that displayed the final bill. Max could scan her thumbprint directly on the screen and authorize payment.
She unholstered her pistol and put it to the robot's head instead.
The robot’s expression turned to one of fear. “I'm sorry, is there a problem with the bill?"
“No problem," Max said. "Up the ramp. Now!” She motioned with her pistol, and the robot complied.
Zero didn't know what the hell was going on. He glanced around to see if anyone had seen the episode, then followed the two up the ramp of the SpaceHawk.
“This is highly unusual," Elijah said. "If you are dissatisfied with the bill, or the service you have received here, I can put you in touch with my supervisor. I'm sure we can come to an amicable solution to the problem."
"Get on your knees,” Max barked.
The robot complied. "I might also add that your behavior is in violation of both Nepulto and Sekar law.”
Max held the pistol to the back of the robot's head. The robot had seen enough movies to be concerned that he was about to be executed. But that's not what Max had in mind. She opened an access panel on the back of Elijah's head, exposing his neural processor. She pulled out the chip and stuck it in her pocket.
Elijah's body went limp, and his system went off-line.
“What exactly are you doing?" Zero asked.
Max dug in her pocket for the chip Winston gave her. She inserted it into the robot’s processor slot. Within a few seconds, the robot rebooted. For all intents and purposes, the robot was now Winston. It had all of his memories and personality.
The Winston clone surveyed his surroundings, and examined his new body as he came to life. “Oh, no!”
“Winston, relax,” Max said. “Everything’s okay.”
“Everything is most certainly not okay. This is not my body. That means I’m… I’m…” He couldn't bring himself to say it. He looked crestfallen.
"You're not dead," Max assured him. "At least, I don't think you’re dead. I just need to access your backup data and utilize your expertise.”
The Winston clone seemed relieved. “In that case, how may I be of assistance?"
Max pulled Skinner's phone from her pocket. She handed it to Winston. “Can you break the encrypted passcode?”
“I can try.”
25
Before the Winston clone even bothered to connect Skinner's mobile to one of his I/O ports, he tapped in a few of the most common PIN codes: 1234, 1111, 0000, 1212, 7777, 1004, 2000… he hit pay dirt at 6969.
He handed the phone back to Max. She was both pleased, and a little perturbed, that he had accessed the device so easily. "Now you're just trying to make me look stupid."
"I didn't have to try that hard," the clone said.
“I mean, it was an obvious code. 0.5% of all PIN codes share that same number.”
Max scrolled through the recent contacts on Skinner's phone. There were several calls to Vaax. Two calls to Zym. A few to Zane, and a call to Conrad Headley. The name sounded familiar, but Max couldn't quite place it. “Winston, can you search the network? I need information about Conrad Headley.”
“Headley is a multi-trillionaire. He is considered to be one of the most successful investors in the galaxy with an estimated net worth of 57.25 trillion credits.”
Zero’s eyes widened.
“He grew up in Revlaxian occupied territory, and escaped to the Federation colony of Zeta Epsilon. His first hedge fund turned 1 billion credits within six months, making him one of the youngest billionaires at 18. Now, at 51, he is one of the largest political donors, and is the largest donor to Errol Hampton's presidential campaign against Stafford.”
That hung in the air for a moment.
“This is rumored of course,” Winston added, “but some believe him to be providing covert funding to insurgent groups.”
“The election is less than three months away. Without Stafford, Hampton is a shoe in.”
“Headley also donated to current Vice President Taggart’s campaign.”
“So, either way, he’ll have a direct line to the presidency.” Max exchanged a wary glance with Zero. "Winston, can you locate the origin of the last call from Headley?"
"I can try. Each relay buoy adds its own unique identifier to the data transmission. A timestamp is also created which helps ensure delivery of the most recent versions signal, prohibiting duplicates that may be transmitted over multiple relays."
“I don't need to know how it works, just figure it out.”
Winston connected the phone to his I/O port and scanned the device. “This may take a few moments."
Max waited as he scanned the data packets.
“The source of the transmission seems to have originated somewhere in the Draconis sector. Grid 11823.”
"Zero, program jump coordinates."
"We're going to just zip across the galaxy to some random sector of space and hope they're still there?"
“It's the best lead we've got."
"That's what you said about all the other leads."
Max scowled at the little man.
"Okay, fine. That's where we're going." Zero ambled toward the cockpit and prepared for take off.
Max gave Winston a grim smile. "I hate to do this, but I've got to unplug you."
The clone looked sad and hopeless. "Are you sure my original being is intact?"
Max shrugged. "I'm not sure of anything. But I promise, I will restore you if anything has happened."
The clone moped. "I have the utmost trust that you will."
"I'll see you again soon. I promise," Max said.
The clone nodded.
Max opened the panel on the back of his head and pulled out the chip. She replaced it with Elijah's. A moment later, the service bot came back online. He looked thoroughly confused. His eyes scanned the compartment, unsure where he was. His eyes found Max. "I must have had a momentary glitch. Forgive me. As I recall, you were planning on departing today?"
"Correct."
“How did I get aboard your ship?"
"Don't you remember?"
The robot shook his head.
"I wasn't feeling well, and you helped me aboard."
"Ah, I see. I hope you are feeling better now?"
"Yes. Momentary dizziness."
"Do you want me to arrange for an emergency medical bot to evaluate you?"
"No, thank you. That won't be necessary."
"Well, then. I hope you've enjoyed your stay. Please have a safe journey to your next destination."
"Thank you," Max said. She watched him stroll down the ramp. Then she pressed the button on the bulkhead, and the hydraulics whirred as the ramp lifted. It slammed tight with a clank, and Zero pressurized the cabin.
Max made her way to the cockpit and buckled into her seat.
The preflight checks all came back green, and Zero engaged the thrusters. The engines rumbled, and the SpaceHawk lifted from the tarmac. Zero pulled back on the controls and throttled up. He nosed the craft toward the clouds, leaving the floating metropolis behind. The force slammed Max against her seat.
They weren’t long into the flight when an alarm sounded, blaring through the klaxon. A light on the dash flashed red.
“Son-of-a-bitch,” Zero muttered.
“What is it?”
26
They rocketed through the upper atmosphere. But the SpaceHawk was going to plummet from the sky before long if they didn't address the situation.
The grinding alarm continued to blast.
“Sorry, but we've got to turn this thing around," Zero said. He pulled on the controls and banked the vehicle around, aiming for the spec below that was Nepulto, floating in the vast ocean.
“Is that absolutely necessary?”
“If you value your existence."
“The port thruster is overheating. There is some type of problem with the thermal modulator.”
Max was about to explode. She felt like a bottle of soda that had been shaken up. One twist of the cap, and she was going to erupt. She took slow deep breaths and tried to calm herself down. There was still plenty of time, she kept telling herself.
Zero contacted traffic control and made arrangements to land at the spaceport.
Once again, they were greeted by Elijah as they landed in the bay. “So wonderful to see you again. Just couldn't stay away, could you?"
“Shut the fuck up,” Max snapped as she stormed down the loading ramp. She was on edge, like someone who had guzzled two pots of coffee. Her mind was filled with the overwhelming sensation that she had failed Riley. Visions of the girl’s unpleasant demise were etched in the back of Max’s retinas.
“Yes, ma'am. Did I say something to offend you?" the curious robot asked.
“We need replacement parts. ASAP. Can you help with that?"
“Of course. All of our space maintenance technicians are SRC certified, and use only genuine OEM parts.”
“Get to work!”
“I'll just need you to sign for any potential charges.” Elijah presented a tablet to Max that displayed a service contract.
Max pressed her thumb against the screen and accepted responsibility for the charges. It didn't matter what it was going to cost. She just wanted to get it fixed. As fast as possible.
“I can fix it,” Zero said. “I just need parts."
“We don't have time to go running all over town looking for the right parts."
“Yeah, but they're going to charge you triple. Fucking contractors, man." Zero shook his head.
“At this point, I don't care. I just want it fixed.” Max stormed out of the bay.
Zero chased after her. “Hey, where are you going?”
“To find another ride.” Max marched into the corridor and toward the central hub. Half of the spaceport was dedicated to private vehicles, while the other half served commercial transports.
The terminal was lined with bars, restaurants, and convenience stores carrying a plethora of items that Galactic travelers might find useful. Hand sanitizer, nano toothpaste and gum, bottled water, soda, souvenir T-shirts, and overpriced knickknacks. Max weaved through the main terminal and found a row of rental counters. Max stopped at the first one she came to. A giant logo appeared on the wall behind the counter: Zepher Rentals: The Galaxy is Yours.
“I’m looking to book a charter.”
The woman behind the counter sneered at Max. "I'm sorry, but all of our charters are booked out six weeks in advance.”
“This is an emergency.”
“Then I suggest you fly commercial."
Max pushed away from the counter and moved to the clerk at the next one over: StarTran Enterprises—Connecting Worlds.
“I need to book a charter to the Draconis Reticuli sector.”
The clerk frowned. "I'm sorry. All of our charters are booked out.” She had brown hair and a round friendly face.
Max deflated.
“I do, however, have some small transports. Two, four, and six seaters.” She made the offer, genuinely hoping it would solve Max's situation.
“Do they have quantum drives?"
“Yes, but keep in mind, there is a per kilometer travel charge after the first million clicks.”
Max's face scrunched up. That was barely enough to make two round trips to the moon. “What models do you have available?”
The clerk looked up the inventory on the computer. Her eyes scanned the display screen. "Looks like I have a Star Dynamics VXS 750 Vector, which seats 4. That rents for 2500 credits per day, plus the travel surcharge of 500 credits per million miles. And a Stein-Voight SXR 9 Jäger for 2700 credits, with a travel charge of 600 credits per million klicks.” The clerk leaned in and whispered, “Personally, I'd go for the Jäger. More power, more passenger room, better handling, and it's more comfortable.”
“Does the Jäger have any defensive capabilities? Plasma cannons, perhaps? 30 mm mini-guns? Electronic countermeasures?"
The clerk frowned. "I'm sorry. None of our vehicles are armed. But they are fast. We haven’t lost a Jäger yet to marauders or pirates.” She shrugged. "Then again, most customers aren’t taking them into shady areas.”
“I’ll take the Jäger.”
“Do you want to purchase the insurance on that. It's an additional 200 credits per day.” The clerk flashed an optimistic smile. "But in case of any damage, you aren’t liable. You just call our emergency hotline, and we take care of the rest."
Max pondered this for a moment. With the way things were going, she'd be a fool not to buy insurance.
27
"Oh, hell no!” Zero exclaimed.
Max grimaced at the site of the Jäger. It looked like a minivan with wings—something you’d use to shuffle your family around a planetary system. Not something that you’d trek off into deep space with and confront a hostile enemy.
"Is it too late to get your money back?" Zero asked.
"It's going to have to do. The SpaceHawk is down for three days. Elijah says the part is coming all the way from Zeta 3 Voltura.”
“He's probably lying. Just saying that so he gets an extra three days docking fee."
“And I thought I was cynical," Max said.
She marched toward the Jäger and clicked the remote key fob. The side hatch slid open and the duo climbed into the craft.
There were two rows of seats behind the main cockpit. A single EVA suit hung on the aft bulkhead. The Galactic transportation code stated there needed to be an EVA suit for each passenger. But EVA suits were expensive, and since Nepulto was no longer an incorporated Federation planet, the stringent guidelines weren't exactly being enforced.
Max climbed into the pilot seat. "I'm flying this time."
"Are you saying I'm a bad pilot?" Zero asked.
"I wouldn't dream of calling you a bad pilot,” Max said with a hint of sarcasm.
Zero frowned.
Max powered up the craft. The minute she did, the stereo shattered her eardrums with some horrendous jumble of instrumentation that sounded like tortured cats. Her hand launch for the volume control like a cobra striking its prey. The last occupant had neglected to adjust the volume to a tolerable level.
"Hey, turn that up,” Zero said.
Max looked at Zero like he was crazy. "You like that music?"
"That's Revolting Desecration. Those guys rock. I saw them at the Arcturus Coliseum on the Galactic Devastation Tour last year. Awesome show.”
"I like classic rock myself. Aphelion, Light Year, Quantum Parallax… Now that’s music!”
Max took a minute to familiarize herself with the layout of the controls.
"Think you can handle this thing?" Zero teased.
Max shot him a look. "Please. They give these things away as children's toys in cereal boxes."
Max went through the preflight checks, then engaged the thrusters and lifted from the tarmac. She wiggled the controls, trying to get a feel for their responsiveness. The vehicle pitched and rolled slightly. It was a little sluggish. Flying the Jäger was like screwing through a shower curtain. It lacked feel and sensitivity.
Max throttled up and angled the vehicle towards space. The Jäger climbed toward the upper atmosphere, but they weren’t going to win any speed records. It was like chugging up a steep mountain road in an old four-cylinder car—you’d get there, but it wasn't going to be pretty.
The thing rattled and squeaked as they hit patches of turbulence. The dash clattered like several screws were missing. Everything was made from cheap plastic parts. Max was having doubts about the craft’s space-worthiness and its ability to jump long distances. But she didn't have much choice.
Max had the throttle at full, and still the craft seemed like it was barely moving.
A proximity alert sounded. Max's eyes glanced to the navigation display. A vehicle had swooped in behind them.
An automated voice emanated from the dash. “Warning, unidentified vehicle following at unsafe distance.”
Max pulled hard on the controls and banked the craft. The vehicle behind stuck to the Jäger like glue. A flurry of plasma bolts streaked in Max's direction.
Definitely not friendly.
Max twisted and spiraled the craft through the sky, trying to avoid the attacker. Despite her best efforts, it was like trying to steer a flying brick. This was going to end badly, there was no doubt about it.
Max plunged the craft down toward the ocean, trying to pick up speed on her descent. Even then, the craft chasing the Jäger had to continually back off the throttle to avoid passing the flying minivan. Max banked and rolled as plasma bolts blazed all around her. Devastating projectiles fired from cannons mounted under the sub-wing pylons of the attack craft. It was a military spec Hughes & Kessler Omnivore drop ship. It was an older Dectra War era craft that had become quite popular on the secondhand market. They were built like tanks and had incredible reliability. They had been stripped of their weaponry before being liquidated by the government, but it was common for civilians to fully retrofit them back to their original military specifications.
A thin mist of sweat formed on Max's palms as she clutched the controls, twisting and turning the Jäger. Her heart was in her throat, and her fervent eyes flicked between the instrumentation and the sky.
Blue beams of plasma sizzled past the Jäger. Zero's eyes were wide. He clutched the arm rests of the chair, white knuckled. His face was stark white, and sweat beaded on his forehead. He swallowed hard as Max plunged the vehicle in an unsettling spiral toward the ocean.
The Jäger's automated warning system spouted out redundant advice. "Hostile activity detected. Please take evasive action.”
A massive explosion rocked the ship, sending it tumbling out of control. A projectile had obliterated part of the starboard wing. Max fought the controls, struggling to get the craft back into something that resembled a normal flight path.
Another impact slammed into the main thruster, sending the craft spiraling into chaos. The thunderous boom was deafening. The quaking rattled Max's teeth. The pungent smell of ion exhaust and burning components filled the cabin. A dizzying swirl of clouds, sky, and ocean flashed across the main viewport as the flying minivan tumbled through the air. Black smoke billowed from the devastated thruster, leaving a trail of doom as the rental plummeted toward the sea.
It was a good thing Max had taken out the insurance.
28
Max yanked hard on the controls. Using a combination of the vertical and navigational thrusters, combined with a lot of luck and skill, she got the Jäger to fly in a facsimile of a straight-line. But the deep blue water was rushing up at the craft at an alarming pace. A collision with the ocean was inevitable.
She pulled back, trying to nose the craft up. Her hope was to skip across the surface like a stone, but that was just wishful thinking. “Hang on!”
The Jäger splashed into the ocean, sending a plume of spray into the air. The safety harness dug into Max's shoulders as the impact slammed her against the straps. Her body was flung forward like a rag-doll, absorbing about as much impact as any living thing could take.
The craft was far from buoyant and was plunging to the depths of the cold sea. Streams of water sprayed into the cabin from the damaged area by the aft thrusters. The sunlight from above faded as they fell into the dark depths. Max scanned sensors, hoping they were sensitive enough to give an accurate picture of the seafloor. She wanted to know how deep they were going to sink.
The craft creaked and groaned as they continued to submerge. The increasing pressure squeezed the hull to its limits. Max hoped it wouldn't collapse. The vehicle wasn't made to withstand this type of pressure. Every 33 feet they descended, the pressure increased 15 pounds per square inch.
The craft finally settled with a thud at the bottom of the continental shelf. 586 feet below the surface. All things considered, it wasn't that deep. It was pure luck that they hadn't been in the deeper ocean—if you could call being stuck under the surface in a leaky spaceship lucky. There were several submerged continental masses throughout Sekar 7 that provided relatively shallow seas. Outside of those areas, the average ocean depth was 15,000 feet. The deepest trenches had depths over 40,000 feet. It would have taken the Jäger 4 to 5 hours to sink to that icy grave, and would have been crushed long before then.
The water spraying into the cabin was cold. The kind of cold that chilled you to your bones within seconds. The kind of cold that insured hypothermia. Unprotected, it would make your limbs go numb, and your mind grow foggy. Heart rate would be reduced and metabolic processes would begin to break down. Death would loom around the corner.
Max's eyes flicked to the single pressurized suit. Zero’s eyes followed hers. They both knew only one of them was going to make it out of this murky grave.
"So who's the lucky one going to be?" Zero asked. "Want to flip for it?”
Water was beginning to pool around their feet. It wouldn't be long before the electronics would short out, and the interior lighting would vanish, leaving them in total darkness. Barely a trace of natural light filtered down to this depth.
Max was faced with a difficult decision. Zero would certainly die without the pressurized suit. But if she let him take it, she might die, and that would severely hinder Riley’s chances of survival.
“Why don't you take the suit?" Zero said before Max could really process the decision. “There's more at stake for you than there is for me. I don't have a family. Nobody's depending on me. Hell, it's been a good run so far. I can't complain. I never thought I'd make it this far."
Max grimaced. "Take the suit. I've got a better chance of surviving this than you do.”
Exposure to water of this temperature and pressure might likely cause cardiac arrest. It would certainly compress any oxygen that remained in the lungs. At this depth, limbs would constrict in an attempt to push blood into the heart and brain. Unprotected, the risk of lungs collapsing completely was high. The galactic record for free-diving was 1092 feet, set by Preston Porter. 586 feet seemed like a breeze compared to that. But Preston Porter had trained his whole life, and was the product of extreme conditioning. In all the many tactical scenarios that Max had found herself in over the years, free diving to this depth wasn't one of them.
“Hurry up, before I change my mind," Max said.
Zero shrugged. A wave of relief washed over his face. "Okay. If you insist.” He sprang from his seat and crawled aft. He grabbed the pressurized EVA suit and slipped it on. He put on the helmet and secured it to the metal ring around the collar. It locked with a click.
There was a control panel on the wrist gauntlet. Zero activated the device, and the suit pressurized with atmosphere, puffing out a bit. “This thing is going to be incredibly buoyant. Hang on to me, and this will rocket us to the top.”
Max nodded. She shivered as the frigid water filled the cabin. It crept up at a disconcerting pace, causing her to second-guess the decision to let Zero have the suit. She clung to the roof breathing in the last bit of remaining atmosphere. Waiting until the compartment was full would allow internal and external pressure to equalize. It was a better option than letting thousands of gallons of seawater rush in all at once. But there was one slight problem with that plan.
Max took her last deep breath of air, filling her lungs to capacity. The water level rose over her head and filled the cabin completely. She swam to the side hatch and pressed the access button on the bulkhead, but nothing happened. The electronics had shorted out from the influx of water.
Both of them were going to die if they didn't get the hatch open.
29
Preston Porter also held galactic record for the longest static breath-hold at 11 minutes. Most people show markers for brain damage within as little as four minutes of oxygen deprivation.
Breath-holds were a common part of Basic Space Combat Training at the Naval Special Warfare Center. BSCT, known affectionately as Biscuit, was generally considered the most difficult military training in the galaxy. It was where all Navy Reapers were forged. Less than 80% of recruits graduated, and of those who did, most wouldn't live to see their 30th birthday. Every member of project SW Ultra completed BSCT, as well as a host of other special forces training. During Biscuit, Max had routinely accomplished static breath falls upwards of five minutes. But that was in a pool on a naval base—not 586 feet below the surface of the ocean. She had no idea how long it would take to reach the surface, or what her lung capacity would be under these conditions. But it was all going to be a moot point if she couldn't get this goddamn hatch open.
She grabbed the manual release lever and heaved with all her might. It didn't budge an inch. She tried again and the hatch slid open barely enough for her to wedge her fingers in between. She used her feet as leverage against the bulkhead and pried the hatch open just far enough to squeeze through. She had already burned a precious amount of oxygen.
Max clung onto Zero’s utility belt as he pulled himself out of the cabin. The increased buoyancy of the suit allowed him to float toward the surface like a rocket. Max clung on for dear life. But she had one problem. With every foot that she ascended, the pressure decreased, causing the air in her lungs to expand. She had to exhale constantly, trying to blow out more volume than was created by the lack of pressure. Failure to do so would rupture her lungs. A constant stream of bubbles floated from her nose and mouth as she exhaled.
The water went from near black, to midnight blue, to a deep royal color as they ascended. The light from above cascaded down, illuminating the turquoise water above.
Max couldn't feel her extremities. Fingers and toes were numb. She tried to hold on tight, but she had lost all sensation. Her vision was growing dim from oxygen deprivation. The surface of the water kept drawing closer, yet it seemed impossibly far away.
Max’s chest burned, and she could hear her pulse pounding in her ears. She wanted to suck in a breath, but that wasn't an option, and wouldn't be for quite some time.
The water grew lighter and warmer as they neared the surface, but it was still cold enough to cause hypothermia. Max felt dull and foggy. There was a hibernation instinct that made her want to pass out and die. She could feel her grip slipping as they ascended. She just needed to hang on for a few more minutes. But those would be the longest of her life.
To make matters worse, Max caught a glimpse of a slerak circling the waters near the surface. They were vicious creatures with rows upon rows of razor like teeth. They resembled a cross between a shark and an eel. They had a nose for blood, and could sense a struggling fish or animal from miles away. It was like they preyed upon fear. Highly aggressive and fast as lightning. They were plentiful in the waters around Nepulto.
This one was gray with black spots and black tipped fins. Soulless eyes like lumps of coal scanned the waters for its next meal.
Max and Zero were so close to the surface now. The light shining down from above was almost blinding. Just as Max felt she was about to fade away, they broke through the surface. She gasped for breath, filling her lungs, trying not to swallow a mouthful of water in the process.
It was almost impossible to tread water with her arms and legs so numb from the cold. Zero clung on to her, keeping her from sinking back down into the murky depths. Max caught her breath and struggled to stay afloat. She watched the dorsal fin of the slerak emerge from the water, circling its prey. Max and Zero would make a tasty morsel for the bloodthirsty creature.
Max unsheathed her tactical knife, gripping it as tight as she could. She could barely feel it and worried it would slip from her grasp. It wasn't much, but the 6 inch blade might offer some degree of deterrent should the swimming meat-grinder venture too close.
She watched the dorsal fin slice through the choppy water, edging closer and closer, spiraling inward.
30
Max saw a flash of sharp teeth and cold evil eyes as the creature lurched for her. She punched the slithering thing in the nose, and the beast abruptly changed direction.
Max's heartbeat skyrocketed. The surge of adrenaline made her forget about the cold.
The slerak was only merely deterred. It wasn't going to let Max's fist get in between it and a tasty dinner. It circled around again then sliced through the water like a torpedo rocketing toward Max. It's wide mouth and strong jaws opened wide, preparing to clamp down.
Max squared off against the beast and put another fist into its nose. It darted aside. Max stabbed her knife into its side, slicing the slerak from its pectoral fin to its tail. The water filled with a cloud of crimson blood. The fish’s guts bulged out of its belly. The creature thrashed and twisted, writhing in agony for a few moments. Then it bled out and plummeted to the dark depths.
A wave of relief washed over Max. But the victory was only momentary. It wasn't long before two more sleraks swam into the area and began circling Max and Zero.
“Did I mention I hate the ocean,” Zero said. “I mean, don't get me wrong. I love it, if I'm on a beach or a cruise liner. But swimming in slerak infested waters… I think I'll pass."
"Oh, come on. Don't be a wuss. There's only two of them," Max joked. It wasn't the two circling that concerned her the most. It was the two dozen others that would soon join them.
The two creatures seemed to work as a team. They circled ever closer, then one decided to strike, testing Max. She batted the beast away, but another attacked from her blindside. She spun around in the water and stabbed the blade into the underside of its belly. She ripped through its blubber as it tried to dart away.
More blood filled the water.
Soon there were three more sleraks. Then five. Then 10. Then 20. They ruthlessly attacked the wounded slerak, spewing even more blood into the water. Every slerak in a 20 mile radius would be heading this way.
The swarm of hunters circled, fighting as they each vied for the optimal strike position.
Max might be able to handle a few of these beasts. But not dozens upon dozens. Her face was grim with the eventual inevitability. But if she was going to become fish food, she was going to make them earn it.
Another slerak attacked, and Max slashed at it with the blade. The beast sulked away, leaving a cloud of blood in the water that was only going to draw even more of the flesh hungry beasts.
The crazed creatures lashed out at one another. A feeding frenzy was about to ensue. Dorsal fins sliced the surface. Max could see their slithering trunks dart through the clear cold water. There must have been close to 50 of them circling by now.
A burst of warm air blew down from above, rippling across the surface water. Max glanced up to see a dropship descending. It was the Omnivore that had shot them down. This couldn't be a good thing, she thought.
It hovered a few meters above the water. A black fast-rope dropped down, splashing into the water. Zero grabbed onto it and hoisted himself up. He was no stranger to fast-rope extractions. He climbed into the open side hatch of the Omnivore. Max clung onto the rope and pulled herself out of the water as a slerak swam toward her. Its massive tail propelled it through the water at a blistering pace.
Max's feet cleared the surface just in time, and she shimmied up the rope. Her teeth were chattering, and the color had vanished from her skin. It took everything she had to maintain her grip on the rope. It didn't make sense that the same people who had shot her down were now coming to her aid. But she didn't care. Anything was better than being in that water.
Max's biceps burned as she pulled herself up the rope. But a slerak launched out of the water like a diabolical swordfish. It's massive jaws opened, and its razor-sharp teeth sparkled. Then, like a vice, the jaws clamped down on Max's thigh. The serrated teeth punctured her flesh, slicing down to the bone. The heavy fish yanked her from the rope, pulling her back into the water.
Pain shot up her leg and into her torso. Water filled her lungs as the creature dragged her under. Her vision was blurred underwater—all she could see was a chaotic mix of bubbles, blood, and slithering sleraks, all moving in for the kill.
Max fumbled for her tactical knife. She pulled it from its scabbard affixed to her belt and stabbed the composite steel blade into the slerak clamped onto her thigh. Multiple punctures finally got the beast to release its bite. It jerked away, ripping the knife from Max’s grip. Blood streamed from the holes on its dorsal side as it swam away, the knife embedded in its flesh.
Plumes of blood billowed from Max's thigh from dozens of bite marks. The pain was unimaginable, but Max pushed it into that special place where it became a dull uncomfortable sensation.
Evil eyes and grizzly teeth surrounded her. The swarm of sleraks looked famished. They were like drug addicts needing a fix. They were singular of purpose. It was time to feed, and Max was the main course.
31
A large slerak spliced through the water, heading straight for Max. Max unholstered her plasma pistol and took aim at the beast. She had no idea if this weapon would fire underwater. The military spec König-Hass X89s were rated for wet/dry performance. But this was a Bösch-Hauer P277. The magazine, receiver, and plasma charge generator all had to be sealed in order for the weapon to fire underwater.
Max said a silent prayer to the Universe and squeezed the trigger.
The weapon discharged, and a plasma bolt sizzled through the water, vaporizing everything in its path. It left a streak of bubbles in its wake. The bolt slammed into the approaching slerak and damn near split the thing in two. Its carcass fell to the depths as other creatures tore it to shreds, fighting over every last morsel.
Another brave, or stupid, creature angled toward Max. She fired another shot, incinerating the nose of the creature. It served as dinner for a half dozen more sleraks.
Max continued to blast at the swarming creatures while she swam to the surface. She grabbed the rope and pulled herself out of the water. Zero, and another man, helped hoist her up from above. As she reached the skids, Zero leaned over and grabbed her by the collar, pulling her into the dropship. Within seconds, the pilot throttled up and whisked them away from the surface of the ocean. He angled the craft skyward.
A team of goons surrounded Max and Zero. Xavier sat in a chair against the bulkhead with a slight smirk on his face.
Max's thigh oozed blood onto the deck. It mixed with the water dripping from her body into a pinkish slurry. She gripped the wounds, putting pressure, trying to stop the bleeding.
Xavier tossed her a medical kit.
She fumbled through it and found some GS gel. It was a biopolymer expandable foam that contained an antibiotic and a regenerative compound. It was excellent at plugging gunshots and other puncture wounds. It would stop the bleeding in the field and would hold until it could be addressed properly in a medical facility. The regenerative compound would speed healing. It saved countless lives in the combat zone, and Max had been no stranger to its use. She used the applicator tip to fill each of the lacerations from the slerak’s razor-like teeth. Then she fumbled through the kit and popped a few tabs of an oral medication that would speed the healing process. Her own bio enhanced genetics allowed her to heal at a phenomenal rate, unlike any other human. But it couldn't hurt to have a little extra help as well. She was lucky the femoral artery in her leg hadn’t been severed by one of the teeth. She would have been dead in the water, shredded to pieces by the hungry mob.
“I gave your message to Mr. Raymond," Xavier said.
"How did he take it?" Max asked.
"I'm supposed to bring you back alive, so he can kill you himself."
Max didn't seem fazed. At this point, death by Mr. Raymond didn't seem near as bad as death by a horde of sleraks. Max continued to tremble uncontrollably from the cold. She had been designed to endure extreme environments. And she had been able to somewhat regulate her temperature while in the water. It almost seemed harder to do now that the threat was gone. She was out of immediate danger, now it was a matter of comfort. She focused her mind and imagined a wave of warmth covering her body. She fantasized about a nice warm Jacuzzi. It may not have had the same effect of sitting in a real Jacuzzi, but it was better than dwelling on the cold.
She leaned against the bulkhead and took slow deep breaths, trying to relax. There was nothing else she could do. The pilot angled the vehicle toward the clouds and blasted his way to the upper atmosphere. Soon, Max lifted from the deck as the craft entered the weightlessness of space. The droplets of water and blood on the deck pooled together and formed orbs that floated around the cabin. They looked like clear marbles with a crimson swirl in the middle.
“How are you feeling?" Zero asked.
“How does it look like I'm feeling?" Max responded dryly.
“Crappy.”
“That would be an understatement.”
Zero paused for a moment. He had a solemn look on his face. “I'd be dead if you hadn't let me take the suit."
“I know."
“I’m trying to say thank you."
"Well, you're welcome. But don't get any ideas that I like you or anything.”
“Not at all.”
“I tolerate you, at best,” she said with a slight grin. Zero was growing on her.
The GS gel was going to hold for a little while, but Max needed proper medical attention. Unfortunately, her health was the least of Mr. Raymond's concerns.
The bulkheads rippled and warbled as the Omnivore entered slide-space. Max's stomach twisted in knots as they made the transition. “Where are you taking us?"
"Mr. Raymond is waiting for you."
“I'm kind of in a rush, so if we can get this over with as soon as possible." She said it in a casual, optimistic tone. But she knew there might not be much of a future after her meeting with Mr. Raymond.
Xavier chuckled. "Honey, Mr. Raymond is the end of the line for you. You'll have to cancel any of your future plans."
32
Mr. Raymond made Zero look tall. But what he lacked in size he made up for in temper. He was part Scrovanian and had pinkish rosy skin and resembled a wild boar. He had a long snout and large lower fangs that protruded even when his mouth was closed.
Despite his feral looks, he was impeccably tailored. He wore a Bullioni Vanguard suit made from the finest thread in the galaxy, Royal Tuvik—sourced from Reticuli Theta Minor. His leather shoes were designed by the famed Nangucca Tolos. He wore a Selosion silk tie, and a traditional cotton broadcloth shirt. His fingers were lined with gaudy tivontium rings. The whole get up cost more than Max owed him. And he never wore the same suit twice.
Mr. Raymond owned several space stations throughout the galaxy. The one Max currently found herself on was orbiting around Loka 5. It was a smaller station that served as a port of call for weary travelers. Mostly interstellar cargo ships. There were bars, restaurants, and the requisite brothels on board. There was a plethora of temporary housing, as well as permanent residences. It wasn’t the kind of place you'd want to spend a lifetime, though some people did.
The top level of the station was Mr. Raymond's private suite. It had every amenity available—pool, Jacuzzi, sauna, theater room, game room, bar, dining area (complete with servants), and a luxurious master bedroom with an expansive view of the cosmos. He even had his own private escape shuttle attached to the living area, in case of emergency. He was a meticulous, if not somewhat obsessive, kind of guy.
Xavier marched Max and Zero before Mr. Raymond in his living room. The walls were covered in sports memorabilia. Autographed red boxing gloves, signed by Mudalla Ama’al, hung from the wall. There was an autographed football, signed by Rich Wilson, the six-time Galactic Bowl champion quarterback. There was an old-school Sirius Slugger, signed by the home run king Billy Ray Brown.
Floor-to-ceiling windows offered a panoramic view of the planet below, Delta Majoris 4. Raymond was mixing himself a cocktail at the bar as Max entered. His most prized possession was in an airtight case atop a pedestal—a certified authentic baseball, signed by Babe Ruth himself. The pre-apocalypse artifact was priceless. Anything from Earth had enormous value—even mundane items. Any remnants of the old world were extremely hard to come by. Not only did the object have to survive the destruction, it also had to be transported millions of miles across the galaxy to the settlement on New Earth, survive the last several hundred years of colonization and expansion, and find its way into a private collection. It belonged in a museum, for sure.
Mr. Raymond's eyes lit up with glee as soon as he saw Max hobble into the compartment. “Ah, so glad you could make it. Can I offer you an adult beverage?” he said in a congenial tone.
“Antarian Whiskey?”
Raymond smiled. “I only have Bulvacci Special Reserve. Will that do?”
"I can suffer through it," Max said. It was her favorite.
“And for your companion?”
“I'll have what she's having."
“Excellent choice.” Raymond filled their glasses with the expensive whiskey and brought the drinks to his guests. He held up his glass and proposed a toast. "To longevity. Cheers."
Max watched cautiously as he took a sip of his drink. Max followed suit. The smooth liquor tingled the back of her throat as she swallowed it down. It warmed her belly and felt good after the cold ocean. Her bones still felt like icicles.
Max took another mouthful. Raymond punched her in the stomach before she could swallow it. Whiskey spewed from her plush lips as she doubled over. The little bastard packed a hell of a punch.
The glass fell from her hand, shattering against the tile. Shards of glass sprinkled across the deck. Max clenched her fists and came up ready to swing. But she was greeted by the business end of several plasma rifles. She clenched her jaw. It was a shame to see good whiskey go to waste.
“I got your message. I didn't particularly like the contents of it. Such foul language from such a pretty lady. Perhaps you’d like to reconsider. It would be such a shame to make an example of you."
"Chesney was a cheat,” Max said, trying to catch her breath. “He got what he deserved."
“No doubt, I'm sure. But there is still the matter of his debt. Which you have inherited."
“It can't possibly matter that much to you?”
“It doesn't. But the principle of the thing does. I can't just have people not pay me because they think I don't need it. One can never have too much money. But, perhaps we can come to other arrangements?” His lecherous eyes surveyed her delectable form.
“I'm sorry, that's not up for negotiation.”
Raymond frowned. "That's a pity.”
Max gave him a go to hell look.
Raymond eyed her wounded leg. It was black and blue and swollen. Max was putting all her weight on her opposite leg. “That looks like it hurts. You really should seek some medical attention. I could have my private surgeon look at it for you? It would be a shame to lose the leg.”
Max said nothing.
Raymond strolled to the wall and took down the baseball bat that had hung on its mount since the day he acquired it. He eyed the slugger with awe. “Are you a Ravens fan?"
“I'm partial to the Blackhawks myself," Max said, knowing full well they were the arch rivals of the Ravens.
Raymond's face tensed. “Billy Ray Brown. The finest player to ever play the game.”
Max arched a skeptical eyebrow. "That's a bold statement. And it's really hard to compare players across eras. You know that."
“True. But we all have our favorites, don't we?" Raymond strolled towards Max, gripping the bat. He was almost fantasizing he was at the plate. “I remember my father took me to see the 2657 World Series. It was one of the most incredible experiences of my life. Me, and my old man, eating popcorn and peanuts, watching Billy Ray Brown knock ball after ball over the fence.” He paused a moment, drifting back in time. We didn't have any money, and my father had dipped into his retirement to buy tickets. I wanted Billy Ray's autograph so bad that day. But I just couldn't get it. When I started making real money, this was the first piece of memorabilia I bought.”
“Sounds like you had a great father and a nice upbringing. What went wrong?"
Raymond glared at her. He swung the bat with all his might. The wooden bat smacked into her wounded thigh. The force of the impact disrupted some of the GS gel plugs. Blood spewed from the wounds, painting the deck a brilliant red. The bat impacted her skin with a hard slap. It almost sounded like her femur had snapped, but it was hard to say.
33
Max collapsed to her knee as pain rifled through her body. She hunched on the ground in agony. Her thigh throbbed. She took slow deep breaths and focused her mind, pushing the pain away.
“I was going to give you a second chance to give me my money, but I thought better of it.” Mr. Raymond cocked the bat back again and swung. The heavy wooden collectible whooshed through the air, careening straight for Max's pretty face.
Hunched over on her knees, Max was almost as tall as the short, stocky gangster. Max's head was perfectly teed up, and Raymond had swung for the fence.
Max reached up and blocked the bat, grabbing it with her fist. The impact against her wrist sent a loud smack echoing off the bulkheads. She thrust the bat forward with all her might, jamming the handle into Raymond's groin.
He doubled over with pain.
With blazing speed, she yanked the bat back, smacking it into Xavier, who was standing behind her. The blow to his crotch was equally effective. Max used her good leg to sweep Xavier’s feet from underneath him.
He crashed to the deck beside her. Max snatched his plasma rifle and rolled over the top of him, using his body for coverage as she fired at another of Raymond’s goons.
The thug returned fire before Max could get a shot off. The blistering bolt of plasma plowed into Xavier.
Max rattled off a flurry of plasma projectiles, eviscerating the thug. His body crashed to the deck, toppling the pedestal that held Babe Ruth’s autographed baseball. The glass case shattered, spraying shards in all directions. The ball thunked to the deck and rolled away.
Zero had taken the opportunity to plant an elbow into the gut of a goon. The two were now struggling over a plasma weapon. Both clutching the barrel of the rifle, kicking each other in the shins.
Max climbed to one knee and took aim, but it was hard to get a solid shot. The two were struggling and changing positions so much that Max risked killing Zero if she took the shot.
She followed the goon with the reticle of her sights, waiting for an opportunity.
The goon managed to strip the weapon from Zero. He swung the barrel around, taking aim. His finger grip the trigger.
Max fired a shot before the goon could complete the action. The plasma bolt sizzled through the air, vaporizing the thug’s head. A pink mist hung in the air. Chunks of brain and skull peppered Zero in the face. He recoiled, his face twisting up as he spit fragments of debris from his lips and mouth. He was absolutely disgusted. He wiped his gooey face with his sleeve.
Max took aim at Mr. Raymond who was staggering to his feet after taking a blow to the family jewels. There was an unusual trace of fear in his eyes. It was a rare position for him to be in.
Zero scooped the rifle from the deck and shoved the barrel in Mr. Raymond's face.
"Perhaps it's time to renegotiate?” Raymond said, forcing a smile.
Max braced the stock of the rifle against the deck and used it like a cane to stand. She staggered to her feet, putting her weight on her good leg. Pain stabbed through her thigh. Her face creased as she grimaced. She brought the barrel of her plasma weapon in line with Raymond's forehead. “What did you have in mind?"
The mobster swallowed hard. Sweat was beginning to bead on his skin. His voice trembled as he spoke, though he did his best to hide it. "I'm sure we can come to some kind of an arrangement. Name your price. You should be fairly compensated for your pain and suffering.”
Max pondered his offer for a moment. She heard several footsteps approaching down the outer corridor. Her furious eyes narrowed at Raymond. “You tripped some kind of silent alarm.”
Mr. Raymond's eyes widened. “Of course not—“
Max clenched her jaw and squeezed the trigger, blasting a hole through his skull. His limp body tumbled to the deck.
The main entrance hatch slid open, and a team of guards stormed in. They were dressed in tactical gear, wielding assault rifles.
Max unleashed a torrent of plasma bolts, taking out the first two guards through the hatch. She scampered for cover behind a bulkhead. With each step, she felt the stabbing pain in her thigh shoot through her entire body. She angled her weapon around the corner and kept unleashing a blistering stream of plasma projectiles.
The guards returned fire. Sparks showered from the bulkhead as blasts impacted near Max.
Zero was on the opposite side of the archway from Max, firing back at the guards. Bodies were starting to pile up in the entrance portal, but more guards kept coming. The alarm had alerted the entire station.
Max poked out from behind the bulkhead, fired several shots, then ducked back. She repeated this routine several times. She didn't have enough ammunition to take out every guard on the station, and they were just going to keep coming until Mr. Raymond told them to stop—which wasn't going to happen anytime soon, seeing how he was now minus his head.
Plasma bolts blazed all around Zero as he dashed across the archway to Max. Smoke filled the compartment, along with the ionized smell of plasma bolts. “I think it's time we made our exit.”
Max nodded. She fired off several more shots, then ducked back for cover. Her eyes gazed across the living room to the airlock that led to the escape shuttle. It was maybe 20 yards away. The path to get there would take them out into the open, leaving them exposed.
“Can you make it?" Zero asked.
Max nodded again, but she knew the run was going to be difficult in her current condition. “You go first. I'll cover you.”
Zero was skeptical. “We go together.”
Max was a little surprised. It was a rare display of bravery from Zero.
He grabbed her and hoisted her over his shoulder.
“What the hell are you doing?”
“Keep firing and don’t stop!” Zero darted toward the airlock.
Max faced the opposite direction, unleashing a torrent of weapons fire at the guards. A chaotic flurry of plasma bolts sizzled all around. If they made it to the airlock in one piece, it would be a miracle.
34
Zero’s quads burned. His chest heaved for breath. The pounding of his heart filled his ears. He ran as fast as he could, carrying Max on his shoulder. Not that she was heavy, but an extra 117 pounds would slow just about anyone down. But for his size, Zero was surprisingly fast and strong.
Plasma projectiles sizzled through the air, scraping precariously close. Max bobbled on Zero’s shoulder, trying to keep her aim steady. She sent a blistering stream of plasma toward the entrance hatch, dicing up guards as they tried to push into the compartment.
Max and Zero were halfway across the living room. The air was thick with haze. Plasma blasts left blackened scars and craters in the bulkheads, and amber sparks rained down. Then the unthinkable happened. The guards hadn't given it much thought. In fact, they hadn't given it any thought at all. They were just spattering as many rounds as possible at Max and Zero.
One of the plasma projectiles pierced a window. Air rushed out of the compartment. The hazy atmosphere was sucked out into space through the narrow opening. It swirled, funneling down to a point like a tornado—only horizontal.
It wasn't a big deal at first. The volume of air spewing into the void was small. But it didn't stay that way for long. Small hairline fractures in the poly carbonate window popped and crackled as they spread out. It only took a fraction of a second for the small fissures to web into dangerous chasms. A fraction of a second more, and the window shattered completely.
It was like a hurricane in the compartment. Air vented into the vacuum of space, sweeping Zero off his feet. Caught in the gale force winds, he and Max spiraled toward the gaping window. Everything that wasn't nailed down poured out—the autographed boxing gloves, the baseball bat, the Babe Ruth baseball.
The couch slid across the deck and slammed into the bulkhead. Max and Zero careened toward the infinite void. Zero managed to cling onto the window frame before getting sucked into space, and Max clung onto his foot, half in, half out of the window.
There was no weapons fire anymore. Everyone was too preoccupied with their immediate survival. Several of the guards tumbled through the air, plowing toward the open window. All it would take would be for one of them to collide with Max, or Zero, and they'd have an eternal ticket to the abyss—an endless frozen space nap.
It wasn't the way Max wanted to go out. She clung onto Zero’s ankle for dear life. She managed to pull herself aside and avoid the collision with two guards as they screamed by. Max watched as their bodies expanded slightly. Within moments, their blood had sizzled with nitrogen bubbles from the lack of pressure. Their exterior froze over. It was a fate she wanted to avoid.
She pulled her way up Zero’s leg, then latched onto the window frame. Max fought against the wind, pulling herself farther into the compartment. Fragments of glass remaining in the window frame carved into her skin.
A guard in the outer corridor managed to mash a button on the bulkhead and sealed the hatch to Mr. Raymond's penthouse suite. The hatch slammed shut, and the rest of the air vented into space. Max and Zero only had a few moments to make it to the airlock before the lack of atmospheric pressure would wreak havoc on their delicate bodies. Max had a better chance of survival than Zero, due to her enhanced genetics.
Max launched toward the airlock. Without the overwhelming wind, she was able to move across the compartment at a faster pace. She grabbed onto Zero and moved as fast as she could. Every joint in her body felt swollen as the lack of pressure caused her tissues to expand. By the time she reached the airlock, she felt puffy and bloated. Once inside, she sealed the hatch behind them and pressurized the compartment. They were both moments away from a fatal decompression.
Max sucked air into her lungs as the airlock filled with oxygen. Despite all odds, they were both still alive. Max opened the outer airlock hatch, and Zero slung her arm over his shoulder and helped her stagger into the escape shuttle. He sealed the hatch behind them and ushered her to the copilot’s seat. She buckled into her safety harness as Zero climbed into the pilot's chair and powered up the craft. The dash came alive and the engines spun up. After the preflight checks, Zero detached the craft from the main structure and throttled up. The escape shuttle eased away from the space station. Zero angled the craft around and headed toward deep space.
Max didn't look good. Even with her ability to compartmentalize pain, she looked like she was in agony.
"Are you okay?" Zero asked.
"Have you been hit?"
"Except for the baseball bat?"
"I'll take that as a no. We need to get you medical attention."
“Pfft,” she hissed.
“We’re not far from Teldak Station. You can get treatment there.”
“We don't have time.”
“You’re not exactly in the most optimum fighting condition at the moment.”
Max’s mobile buzzed in her pocket. She slid the device out and swiped the screen. She was close enough to a relay buoy to get a strong signal.
Grant’s worried face appeared on the screen. "I've been trying to get ahold of you for the past several hours.”
Max shrugged. "I've been a little busy."
“Where are you?”
Max ignored the question. “Conrad Headley.”
“What about him?”
"He's the one behind all of this.”
“Whoa, hang on. Are you sure about that?”
“Positive.”
“He's a pretty heavy hitter.”
“I don’t care who he is.”
“Not so fast,” Grant said. “Headley is a major political player with lots of influence. This needs to get done by the book.”
“I'm running out of time."
“Let me put together a special team of agents. Meet us at Artemis Station. We’ll move on his location together.”
“Headley's current location is outside of Federation jurisdiction. Your agents are just going to get in the way.”
"If what you say is true, Headley provides a clear and present danger to the Federation, and the president. Threats of that nature give us authorization to operate outside our normal jurisdictional boundaries."
Max pondered this for a moment. She needed all the help she could get. But she didn't need a bunch of bumbling feds screwing this whole thing up either. ”I’m just going to give you a heads up, if I get a chance to take that scumbag out, I'm going to. And if anything has happened to Riley, I'm going to see to it that everyone responsible stops breathing."
Grant took a deep breath. There was no reigning Max in, and it wasn't worth trying. "How far out are you?"
Max glanced to Zero for an estimate.
"Maybe two hours, give or take," he shrugged.
“Alright, I’ll see you on Artemis Station.” His face disappeared from her display screen.
Zero engaged the slide-space drive. A quantum distortion washed through the ship. Max grimaced. With a fractured femur, the sensation was less than pleasurable. She wasn't in any condition to fight.
35
“What the hell happened to you?" Grant asked, eyes wide.
Zero helped Max hobble off the shuttle onto the flight deck of Artemis Station. "You wouldn't believe me if I told you."
“At this point, nothing surprises me."
“I'm 99% certain my femur is cracked. I'll need to get to a med unit.”
Grant’s eyes rounded. He was surprised at how mobile she was considering the circumstances. He and Zero helped her to the med bay.
Dr. Volkov reviewed the scans of her leg. Max lay on a gurney as a 3D holographic image appeared above her, mirroring her to scale.
“That is not good,” Volkov said, scrutinizing the damage. Her femur had been shattered into several pieces that looked like shards of glass scattered at random angles.
“How bad is it?” Grant asked.
“Well, there is significant damage to the rectus femorus, iliotibial band, adductor longus, vastus lateralis, vastus medialis, biceps femoris, not to mention several microvascular structures. There is some damage to the lateral femoral cutaneous nerve, but that’s merely a sensory nerve. She’s lucky there was no damage to the femoral nerve. But it's the bone that worries me.” A grim frown formed on his face. He pointed to her femur. “This is supposed to be one thick bone. Instead we have two main sections and about a dozen fragments. I'll need to put in a plate connecting the larger bones and attach the fragments to the plate in order for them to regrow. We are using Caltravox™ plates these days which are fully absorbable.”
"That's great, Doc,” Max said, dryly. “What's the recovery time?”
“No weight-bearing for a week."
Max raised her eyebrows. "Unacceptable.”
"I can give you an Exo-Walker so you can get around. But I wouldn't push it too far."
Max cringed at the thought. Telling Max not to push it too far was like asking a tiger to change its stripes. "Of course not. I'll be a good patient." It was a blatant lie.
Volkov ushered her into the operating room and a team of assistants transferred her onto the operating table and prepped her for surgery. They cut away the fabric of her garment, and cleaned and disinfected the wounds. Sterile drapes were placed over the area. Doctor Volkov loaded an injection gun with a nano-anesthetic that would only numb the affected area. "Do you want to be awake for this, or do you want to be knocked out?"
"I prefer to keep my wits about me."
"You shouldn't feel a thing.” Volkov flashed a reassuring smile.
Max was skeptical. Her enhanced metabolism processed medication at an alarming rate.
Volkov moved to the control terminal. He swiped through several screens and launched the diagnostic app. The system rescanned her body. The image displayed on a control screen, and Volkov programmed the surgery into the robotic surgical system. Within moments, a series of articulated arms swooped down, making an incision down Max's thigh. They moved with technical precision. The mechanical ballet cleaned the wounds, debrided necrotic flesh, re-vascularized damaged structures, and attached the absorbable bone plate. Caltravox was a synthetic bone-like material that was stronger than titanium.
Once the surgery was complete, a regenerative compound was injected, and factor XXI glue was used to seal the wounds. A synthetic skin was sprayed over the top as a protective layer. The entire surgery took a little less than half an hour. Max was surprised the anesthetic lasted through the entire procedure. She couldn't feel a thing. Which was both good and bad. She had no intention of sitting still.
The surgical team wheeled her back to the recovery area. Zero and Grant were waiting.
“Everything went as planned," Dr. Volkov said. “I expect a full recovery. You're going to need to keep the wound sites dry for a few days, and I recommend starting physical therapy as soon as possible to break up scar tissue and prevent adhesions. I'll have the nurse swing by shortly to fit you with an Exo-Walker. But only if you promise to take it easy.”
“I promise."
Volkov gave her a skeptical look. “I’ll provide some Neuromodix™ for pain. Just try to wean off the stuff as soon as possible.”
“Don't need it.”
"You will when that anesthetic wears off.”
Volkov left to attend to other patients. Max's eyes followed him. As soon as he was out of earshot, she sat up and pulled the IVs out of her arm.
“Why don't you take it easy for a bit?” Grant said. “Let me and my agents handle this.”
“I'm not the one who just had surgery and is trying to escape from the recovery room.”
A nurse saw Max’s shenanigans and rushed into the compartment. She scowled at Max. “Oh, no. You can't get up. Dr. Volkov specifically said you were not allowed to walk on that leg without a brace.”
“Then get me a brace,” Max said in a commanding tone, staring the woman down.
The nurse glared back at her, not intimidated in the least.
“Please,” Max added.
The nurse huffed and spun around. She called back to Grant and Zero as she marched out of the recovery room, “Make sure she doesn't do anything stupid until I get back.”
“Like that's possible," Zero muttered.
The nurse returned in a few minutes with the brace. It extended from Max’s waist to her feet, and conformed exactly to her body shape. The exoskeleton allowed a full range of motion, and redistributed the weight of her body, keeping her at less than 50% of her normal load.
Max stood up and took her first step with the assistance of the device.
“How does it feel?" the nurse asked.
“I feel fine.”
“That's because the numbness hasn't worn off yet,” the nurse said with an arched eyebrow. “Take a few steps for me. I want to check your gait.”
Max walked a few feet to the edge of the room, then turned around and walked back. “See. Perfectly fine.” Max's face scrunched up as she gazed down at the device. “I mean, I’m not going to win any fashion contests, but…”
“You'll need to wear that for at least a week,” the nurse said. “It’s set to automatically reduce the assistance level each day, until you wean off of the brace completely. If you have any questions, just use the call button.”
“Thank you.”
The nurse left the recovery room.
Max looked to Grant and Zero. “Are you two ready?"
Grant looked at her with concerned eyes. “Do you really think you're in any condition to leave? Much less fight?”
“I could kick your ass." She arched a sassy eyebrow at him. Then got into his face and taunted him further, “Come on. Right now. Let's go.”
Grant rolled his eyes.
“My money's on Max," Zero said.
Grant gave Zero a sideways glance. But he had a sneaking suspicion Max would wipe the floor with him, even in her weakened condition. It was best to let Max have her way.
36
"How exactly are we going to accomplish this?" Murphy, an FCIS agent, asked.
Grant stood at the front of the ready room. A display screen behind him showed a live view of a large luxury XR-77 Solocci Space Yacht in the Draconis sector. The footage was being relayed from a stealth drone.
There were five other FCIS agents present, besides Grant. They were all clean-cut guys with short hair, chiseled faces, and athletic builds—all tactical gear. Max didn't know any of them, and the idea of bringing in unknowns was disconcerting.
“We were able to pick up a transmission from the Solocci, registered to Conrad Headley, and track it to this location.” Grant pointed to the screen. "You can see the defensive cannons located on the port and starboard sides of the ship. For a private vessel, it's pretty well armored. I've sent detailed schematics of this ship to your PDUs. Please familiarize yourselves with the layout.”
An FCIS agent in the back of the room interrupted. His nameplate read: Phelps. “So, we’re basing this raid on her suspicion?” he said with a skeptical tone, pointing at Max. “Do we have any probable cause? Any real evidence that the commission of a crime is taking place aboard the Solocci?”
Grant’s face tensed. He was silent for a moment.
"I'll take that as a no.”
“I trust Max implicitly,” Grant said. “She has reason to believe that Conrad Headley is involved in a kidnapping and is plotting an assassination attempt against the president. I'd say that warrants further investigation."
Phelps shook his head. “So, this is completely off the books, right?"
"That would be one way of putting it,” Grant said.
“Does anyone else even know about this?" Phelps asked.
Grant cleared his throat. "If anybody has reservations and wants to back out, feel free to do so now. We will be operating outside of regulated space. There will be no backup. If anything goes wrong, we're on our own.”
Nobody said anything.
“Alright then,” Grant continued. “The Navy has been gracious enough to loan us two SR-230 Specters. These are state-of-the-art stealth vehicles that will allow us to approach the Solocci undetected. We'll jump into the sector, do an EVA walk to the Solocci, bypass the outer airlock, and infiltrate the ship.”
“Whoa, wait a minute,” Phelps protested. “That's next level spec-war shit. Why aren’t we sending in a team of Navy Reapers? I mean, this is what they do."
“Aw, don't tell me you're afraid of a little spacewalk?” Grant teased.
All kinds of things could go wrong on a spacewalk—especially an untethered one. Drifting off into the void for all eternity and dying of oxygen deprivation when the suit ran out of air wasn't exactly on Phelps’s bucket list. With his courage challenged, he puffed up a bit to compensate. "I've done plenty of spacewalks, thank you. I'm just saying, there are specialized units that are better at this type of thing than we are.”
“Yes, there are,” Grant said. “But we don’t have a spec-ops team at our disposal. Except for Max. She’s a former special operator. One of the best. Follow her lead, and you just might learn something. I know some of you have spec-ops backgrounds, and some of you don't. Like I said, if this is going to be too much for you, feel free to back out now.”
Phelps grumbled under his breath.
“I pulled you all into this mission because I believe in your ability," Grant said. "And you are all deeply committed to the FCIS, and our core mission.” Grant looked at his watch. "Time is of the essence. You’ve got 15 minutes to gear up. We’ll meet on the flight deck. Are there any questions?”
“Good. We are wheels up in 15.”
The squad of agents filed out of the ready room.
Grant moved beside Max and whispered in her ear. He was putting his professional reputation on the line. “I hope you're right about all this.”
“Me too.”
Grant gazed into Max's crystal blue eyes. “Are you sure you're up for this?”
“I feel great." Her thigh was throbbing with an immense amount of pain, but she was doing her best to ignore it. And she certainly wasn't going to let any discomfort show on her face. The exo-brace was doing its job. Max was able to walk around normally. The test was going to be whether it held up under extreme usage.
“Let's get suited up" Grant said.
“What about me?” Zero asked.
“You should probably stay here.”
“Oh, hell no. I'm going with you. You can't cut me out now.” Zero flashed a charming smile. “We've come too far together.”
Grant wasn't sold on the idea.
"He's good in a firefight,” Max said with a soft grin. “It's not like this whole operation isn't already against protocol.”
“Fine,” Grant relented and eyed Zero. “But if you get killed, don't blame me."
37
“Now that is what I call a spaceship," Zero said, his eyes glimmering at the site of the two Specters on the flight deck.
They were things of beauty. Sleek black spacecrafts with sharp lines and smooth curves. There was nothing clunky about them. There were no extraneous shapes. Nothing that could increase their radar signature. They were made of a composite alloy that was still top-secret. They were the most technologically advanced spacecraft in the Federation, and there were only a handful in existence. At over a billion credits apiece, they were in short supply.
The Specters lived up to their namesake. They were ghosts. With active camouflage and cloaking technology, they were virtually invisible on long-range detection systems. In most cases, they would be in and out and the target would be neutralized before anyone knew what happened. Max was hoping they lived up to their impressive track record.
The team split into two, four-person squads—Echo 1 and Echo 2. Max, Grant, Zero, and Murphy filed into one of the specters, while Phelps, Kahn, Stevens, and McDowell loaded into the other. Lieutenant JD Styles, and Lieutenant Edward Jarvis piloted the respective crafts.
Max sat in the passenger compartment with the others, wearing the WarTek™ T-8000 Advanced Tactical Armor. It was a lightweight battle suit, fully pressurized. It had enough oxygen to last four days. The composite armor body panels were formfitting, and the advanced design allowed a full range of motion. There were navigational thrusters in the soles of the boots and in the palms, as well as other strategic locations throughout the suit. The OmniView™ optics provided advance battlefield awareness. Embedded cameras in the body armor allowed a near 360° seamless view. Night vision, infrared, optical zoom, and target tracking were core features of the optical system. A heads up display monitored vital signs and remaining oxygen, and displayed position data. The entire platoon was linked and could share data in real time. The suits had been designed under the close supervision of Naval Special Warfare. Paid for through a proprietary R&D fund under the direct authority of the president and the Department of Defense. The Navy Reapers got all the cool toys first.
Lieutenant Styles programmed in jump coordinates and engaged the slide-space drive. Max didn't feel so much as a twinge in her stomach when the ship made the jump. It was perhaps one of the most valuable features of the spacecraft. Every vehicle had its own quantum signature when making slide-space jumps. Enemy detection systems were attuned to these signatures and could instantly identify an enemy spacecraft entering the area. The fact that Specters created virtually non-existent quantum distortions made them some of the stealthiest ships in the galaxy.
Max used the flight time to clear her mind and focus on the task at hand—getting Riley back. That was the only thing that mattered. She was so entranced that she barely noticed when the ship emerged from slide-space. They weren't far from the Solocci.
The entire crew waited with baited breath, hoping that they had arrived undetected.
The pilot watched the scanner, looking for any change in behavior by the Solocci. Activating defense systems, change in vector, or power surges to the ion drives or quantum field generator would be an indicator. “I think we slipped in clean.”
Max breathed a sigh of relief. “Pull us closer.”
The active camouflage made the Specters almost impossible to see against the star field.
“How close do you want to get?” Scott asked. “I can set us down on their hull, but I don't think that's a good idea.”
“Come in from underneath. That's their blind spot.”
Styles swooped the Specter underneath the Solocci. Lieutenant Jarvis followed closely behind. The two Specters hovered precariously close to the underbelly of the yacht. Lieutenant Styles depressurized the cabin. The atmosphere whooshed into space.
“Let me know when you're ready,” Styles said, his voice crackling in Max’s ear over the comm line.
Max looked around to her companions. They all gave the thumbs up. It was time to go. Lieutenant Styles opened the ramp to the flickering star field.
Max pushed out of the portal and floated into space. It was an ominous feeling, stepping out into the void untethered. Her assault rifle was slung over her shoulder, and a magnetic clip kept it attached to her body armor. She used the thrusters in her palms and boots to angle her body toward the Solocci.
It was peaceful and quiet as she floated toward the ship. The calm before the storm. Max activated her magnetic boots as she neared the hull. She rotated her feet in front of her, and clamped onto the exterior of the yacht. The rest of the agents followed behind in rapid succession. It reminded her of the old days in Project SW Ultra—only she had more confidence in her squad then.
Max moved to the airlock and fiddled with the keypad. Security systems on private yachts were quite a bit different than warships—much easier to circumvent. Max pulled a multi-tool from a pouch attached to her waist. It was tethered to avoid loss—there was nothing worse than working outside a spacecraft and having a screwdriver tumble into the void when you needed it most.
Max pried off the access panel and rewired the keypad. Within moments, the outer airlock hatch slid open. It was just like old times. The two squads glided into the compartment. Max sealed the hatch behind them. So far, they had been undetected.
Max peered through the polycarbonate viewport in the inner airlock hatch. She scanned the hallways—they were clear. “We’ll clear the corridors and take control of the bridge. Remember, there are civilians on board, hostage retrieval is our number one priority.”
Max readied her weapon, then opened the inner airlock hatch. The squad flowed into the corridor with their weapons in the firing position. They moved with tactical precision. Max and Zero advanced down the corridor, but they quickly found themselves surrounded by the rest of the agents, on the wrong end of their plasma rifles.
Max's face twisted up, perplexed. What the hell was going on?
38
“Drop your weapons, now,” Grant said.
Max glanced at the angry rifles staring her in the face. There were too many to take out. Max glared at Grant. Rage boiled on her face, and her cheeks flushed red.
“Sorry. But you're in over your head. I tried to steer you away from this, but you’re a little stubborn.”
Zero dropped his weapon to the deck.
Max did the same. “Why are you doing this?"
“I'll let Mr. Headley explain it to you." Grant unlatched his helmet and took it off. He took in a deep breath of fresh air— fresh, recirculated air. “Are you ready to meet Mr. Hadley?" Grant smiled, then motioned for his team to escort Max and Zero to meet the boss.
Max felt the barrel of a plasma rifle push against her backplate, nudging her forward. They weaved through a maze of passageways to a sprawling compartment where Conrad Headley was entertaining himself with the company of some exotic beauties.
The yacht was opulent, crafted from the finest materials. The compartment was complete with indoor pool and Jacuzzi, a full bar, and a plethora of lounge chairs. It was like a resort. Servants scurried about, catering to Mr. Headley's every desire. There were platters of food on a seemingly endless buffet table. Real food. Not synthetic facsimiles from a fabricator, but real turkey, beef brisket, hamburgers, and countless finger foods.
Zane perused the buffet table, stuffing his face.
“Welcome to my little oasis in space," Headley said. He seemed amused and pissed off at the same time. He had gray hair, blue eyes, and a square jaw. He looked like he kept himself in pretty good shape, despite the opportunity to overindulge at every turn. His svelte female companions were half his age—a brunette and a redhead. The slim fabric of their bikinis left little to the imagination.
Zero’s eyes were about to pop out of their sockets, ogling the luscious concubines.
“Please, remove your helmets,” Headley said. “Let me get a look at you.”
Max felt the barrel of a rifle nudge her backplate again. She and Zero twisted off their helmets. Max shook out her shiny black hair and took a deep breath.
“This is a really nice place you got here,” Zero said in a nervous blurt.
"Thank you. And who, exactly, are you?"
"I think I work for you. In a roundabout way."
“Ah, the pilot who failed to get Max to her destination.” Headley glared at him. “In case you haven't figured it out by now, you're fired.”
Zero nodded, accepting his fate. "Understandable.”
Headley’s steely gaze turned to Max. "And you may have disrupted my initial plans, but the end result will still be the same.” He looked at his watch. "President Stafford will be dead within the hour.”
“Where’s Riley?” Max asked.
“She safe. For now. I may let you see her before you die, if I'm feeling generous."
Max clenched her jaw. “What do you gain by all this?”
“Trillions and trillions of dollars.”
“Don't you already have enough?"
“My dear, there are two things that you can never have enough of. One is money. The other is time. I've learned how to acquire the first, and I'm working on the second.”
“What does that have to do with President Stafford?”
“It's quite simple. I stand to make a lot more money under a Hampton administration.”
“And I assume you bought the FCIS?”
“You could say we share a mutual interest. Stafford has long threatened to eliminate the FCIS, merging their functions into the UIA. There are some in the FCIS who will do anything to keep that from happening.” Headley smirked. “Of course, I may have provided a little financial incentive. And if Hampton wins the election, he will ensure the agency’s survival.”
“I'm assuming you have a backup assassin?" Max asked.
"You were never to be the assassin. Merely a patsy. Your friend Jake Mitchell would've served that purpose well. But his untimely demise forced me to use an alternate. And you fit that bill nicely. A renegade spec-war officer, disgruntled at the system. It fits the narrative.” He paused for a moment. “Space them both. Zane, kill the girl. These people are of no use anymore.”
Zane finished stuffing his face, unholstered his weapon and headed for the corridor.
“No!” Max screeched. “Let Riley go."
“I'm sorry, but I don't allow loose ends.”
Phelps grabbed Max and shoved her toward the hatch.
Grant stayed in the compartment and ambled toward buffet table. He put a few slices of brisket onto a plate along with some beans.
“Enjoy your last meal, Grant,” Max yelled back at him.
Her voice made the hairs on the back of his neck stand tall. Max wasn't someone you wanted angry with you—even if she was on her way to die.
39
Phelps nudged Max forward with the barrel of his plasma weapon. It was a bad idea. He and four other corrupt agents marched Max down the maze of corridors to the airlock.
Max spun to the side, knocking the barrel away with her arm. The weapon discharged into the bulkhead. She grabbed the stock with one hand and pulled it toward her, spinning the rifle 180°. She used her other hand to whip the barrel around and smack Phelps in the face. The hot barrel gashed his cheek, carving a chasm that cut to the white bone. Blood oozed down his face, and he tumbled back in a daze. In a fraction of a second, Max had stripped the weapon and squeezed off two rounds into Phelps. His body flopped to the deck, wisps of smoke wafting from the craters in his chest.
Max spun around, unleashing a flurry of plasma bolts at the corrupt agents. It was a momentary burst of chaos as some of the agents tried to return fire. Sizzling energy beams slashed through the hallway in all directions.
Zero struggled with one of the agents over a rifle.
Max was fast. Swift, violent action was her motto. Shock and mother-fucking awe. Smoke filled the air, and the stinging smell of plasma ions filled Max's nostrils. Sparks showered as bolts slammed into the bulkheads. Within seconds, all of the agents were on the deck. Some writhed in agony, still clinging to life. Max finished them off, eliminating them as a threat.
She would have taken pleasure in her accomplishment, but Zero was squirming on the deck—a casualty of the quick firefight.
Max rushed to his side and knelt down. Her worried eyes surveyed the damage. He had taken a hit to his upper torso and leg.
Zero grimaced in pain. His tight voice squeezed the words out, “I'm fine. I’ll live. Go find Riley.”
Max nodded, though she hated to leave Zero in his present condition. He had gotten lucky. No major arteries appeared to be damaged. A bolt had severely grazed his rib cage, leaving that side of his torso charred and blistered. It was red and black and oozing, and the wound resembled mangled pizza. The putrid smell of burning flesh filled her nose. Max knew the pain had to be excruciating. And the hole in Zero’s thigh was going to preclude him from walking. He’d be lucky if he would ever be able to walk without a limp.
Max sprang to her feet and grabbed a few extra magazines from the fallen agents. She snatched a plasma pistol and holstered it. A wave of fierce determination washed over her face as she headed back down the corridor.
Headley saw the whole affair on a surveillance monitor. His face tensed. "Can't you people do anything right?”
Grant swallowed hard, looking like a scolded child. Headley was unpredictable when pissed off.
Conrad dispatched his own security detail to take care of the situation. Dozens of his goons and full tactical gear stormed into the corridors, looking for Max. They were dressed in black battle armor, with military spec assault rifles. Most of them were former military, probably better trained than some of the FCIS agents.
Max advanced down the corridors and came up against her first squad of Headley's goons. The hallway was instantly filled with energy. Scorching bolts streaked in all directions. Max hugged the bulkhead, taking cover in a small niche, edging her weapon around a support brace. She placed the reticle of her sights square on one of the goon’s heads. She squeezed the trigger sending several blistering beams downrange, vaporizing his skull. She had another thug lined up before his body crashed to the deck.
There were a half-dozen of them. Max kept firing, then ducking back for cover. Each time, the plasma beams screamed by precariously close. She could feel the heat through her armor as they blazed past.
It wasn’t long before Max was taking fire from the opposite direction as well. Another squad had come up from the rear. They sent a flurry of plasma bolts screeching toward Max. Orange sparks showered all around her as the bolts slammed into the bulkhead. The charred craters smoldered, wafting smoke. The corridor filled with haze.
This was far from an ideal scenario.
40
Zane stormed into the holding cell, planning to finish off Riley. He had a slight grin on his lips. He looked like he was going to enjoy the horrendous deed. He was one of those guys that seemed to enjoy inflicting a great deal of suffering on others. It had probably started when he was a kid, electrocuting small animals and blowing them up with sticks of C-17. If he hadn't joined the military at a young age he probably would have been one of the galaxy’s most notorious serial killers. But several tours of duty in various war zones served to quench his bloodlust. And working for Conrad Headley seemed to keep that need satiated.
Zane burst into the holding cell only to find Riley missing. The veins in his forehead bulged, and his face burned red with anger. How the hell did she escape? His eyes scanned the compartment. It didn't take him long to discover a vent to an air shaft dangling from its attachment.
Zane climbed up and peered through the narrow shaft. He saw Riley scampering down the passageway. She was just tiny enough to fit.
Zane clenched his jaw and aimed his pistol down the shaft. He blasted off several furious bolts of plasma. They streaked down the narrow passage way, illuminating the darkness, their glow reflecting off the metal walls.
Riley managed to turn the corner as the bolts sizzled past her, impacting at the next junction, spraying a glorious rain of amber sparks.
The shaft was much too small for Zane. There was no way he could fit. He slammed his fist into the bulkhead and darted back into the hallway. In his mind, he tried to trace the path of the air shaft. He scampered through the corridors, listening intently as Riley crawled through the dingy dark pathways.
Zane aimed in the direction of the sound and blasted off several rounds into the shaft. The shots apparently missed their target because he could hear Riley continue to scamper away.
His face tensed again. He was determined to find her.
The shaft was dirty and musty. It smelled like metal and mold. Riley crawled through the cramped passage, covered in dust. It was pitch black, except the light that filtered in from the vents. Her terrified eyes were brimming with tears. She tried to hold back sobs. Now was not the time to break down. But the maze of passageways was daunting. Riley wasn't claustrophobic, but such a tight passageway would cause anyone to freak out. Especially when someone was trying to kill you.
The shots that Zane had fired into the air duct had pierced the shaft only inches away from Riley's feet. Now she was trying to move quietly through the duct. But it wasn't built for a person—not even a small one. Her weight caused the shaft to flex, creating pops and cracks that gave away her position.
More plasma bolts pierced the metal duct, flashing past her. Her heart pounded in her throat, and her body trembled with fear. She wanted to scream, but she knew better. The only thing she could do was to keep moving.
She turned at the next junction, hoping to get away from Zane. She could hear his frantic footsteps filter in through the vents from the corridor. She tried her best to move away from the sound. But her mind filled with dread. What was she going to do? Hide in these air ducts forever? She had no idea Max was even on board. But she knew Max would come. She had made a promise, and Max always kept her promises.
41
Max unholstered her pistol, clutching it in her left hand. She held the rifle in her right hand. She crossed her arms, firing the rifle in one direction, and the pistol in the other. She sent a torrent of weapons fire in both directions. Her eyes flicked from one end of the hallway to the other. She lined up the enemies in her sights and eviscerated them with tactical precision.
The squad of goons could never have fully prepared for Max. She unleashed a lethal spray of energy, taking out both squads in a matter of moments. The clatter of the firefight subsided. Bodies lay strewn throughout the corridor. Max holstered her pistol and continued searching for Riley.
She called out for Riley as she scoured the ship, checking compartment after compartment. They were all empty.
Max rounded the corner and faced off with another set of goons. Plasma bolts erupted. Max ducked back around the corner and returned fire. There were only three of them this time. And Max made short work of them. Three shots—three bodies on the deck. Max was making a mess of the finely crafted yacht. The bulkheads were painted with blood. Bodies lay strewn everywhere.
Max continued to push through the ship. “Riley? Riley?” She strained to hear a response, but she only heard the drone of the engines.
“Riley?” she called out again.
There was a long moment of silence, then she heard little girl's muffled voice.
“Max?”
“It's me, baby. Where are you?"
“I’m right here.”
“Where’s here?” Max scampered through the corridor trying to locate the frightened girl.
Max heard the sound of a vent cover clatter to the deck. It echoed off the bulkheads. Max sprinted in the direction of the ruckus. She sprinted around the corner to see Riley hanging from an overhead duct. The girl dropped down to the deck.
Riley's eyes sparkled when she saw Max. An impossible smile curled on her lips, and she ran to embrace Max. But Zane lurched out from a juncture and grabbed Riley after only a few steps. He fired two shots at Max, then placed the plasma pistol to Riley’s head.
Max ducked for cover behind a support brace. But one of Zane’s shots had grazed Max’s arm. It stung like all hell. Smoke wafted from the wound, filling her nostrils with the charred smell of flesh. It wasn't pleasant.
Max angled her rifle around the support brace, taking aim.
“Drop the weapon, or she dies," Zane said.
Max snarled at him. Her entire body tensed. She had the reticle of her sights square on his head. He was using Riley as a shield, but Max had a clean shot. All she needed to do was squeeze the trigger. But the fear of making a mistake kept her from doing it. Her arm twitched and trembled from the wound. It was just enough to give her second thoughts. Any other time, Zane would've been dead by now.
“I said drop the weapon, or she dies."
“If I drop the weapon, you’ll kill both of us,” Max said.
“Don’t do it,” Riley shouted.
Zane tightened his grip on the trigger.
“Okay. Okay." Max carefully set her rifle on the deck.
“And the pistol,” Zane shouted.
Max palmed the grip of the pistol as it sat snugly in its holster.
“Easy there. Use your fingertips." He knew Max was fast, and he wasn't going to take any chances.
Max readjusted her grip to use her thumb and index finger to lift the pistol from its holster.
“Drop it to the deck, then kick both of them over.”
Max tossed the pistol to the ground and kicked it toward him. It spun across the deck and came to rest at his feet.
“Now the rifle.”
She gave it a good push and it scraped against the textured metal.
“Now let her go."
“That wasn’t part of the arrangement.”
Max looked like a wild animal ready to devour its prey. She clenched her fists. She was a bull ready to charge.
Zane held Riley off the ground. She was almost at eye level, and the barrel of his plasma pistol was pressed firmly against her temple. Her feet dangled off the deck at just the right height.
She kicked back and planted her heel into Zane's groin. He doubled over with pain. Riley dropped to the ground and took off running.
Zane tried to catch his breath. It felt like his nuts were in his chest. He staggered to his feet, spun around, and took aim at Riley.
Max charged him.
Before Zane could get a shot off, Max crashed into him. The weapon discharged, sending a bolt of plasma down the corridor. It slammed into the bulkhead, sending a burst of sparks into the air.
Max tried to take him down to the deck, but Zane shrugged her off. She fell back and crashed against the bulkhead, slamming into the access panel of a nearby compartment. The hatch slid open to the engineering room.
Zane swung his plasma pistol around and aimed at Max. She had a split second to react before she was vaporized.
42
Max lunged for Zane. She grabbed the weapon as he squeezed the trigger. A brilliant beam of plasma streaked to the side of her head. Her ear burned from the heat. Max slammed Zane against the bulkhead, cracking his wrist against the metal. She pummeled his wrist against the bulkhead until the weapon slipped from his grip. It clattered across the deck.
Max kneed him again in the groin, and the big guy doubled over. Max finished with an uppercut, sending him flopping back against the bulkhead.
But Zane recovered quickly. He lunged toward Max like an offensive lineman. He tackled her into the engineering compartment, and the two crashed to the deck.
Zane straddled her. He coiled back his fist, then pummeled her in the face. He did the old ground and pound—his cinderblock of a fist wreaking havoc on her sculpted cheekbones.
Max finally shoved him off and sprang to her feet.
Zane squared off against her, and the two circled each other like boxers in a ring.
Zane threw a devastating right. Max dodged out of the way. She grabbed his wrist with her right hand, and used her left hand to wrench his elbow toward the ceiling. Then she kneed him again in the abdomen and drove her elbow into the back of his neck.
Zane crashed to the deck.
Max planted a swift kick into his rib cage. But Zane grabbed her foot and yanked it out from underneath her. Max smacked her back flat on the deck. Within seconds, Zane was towering over her. She kicked him away and scampered to her feet.
The two warriors squared off against each other, pushing deeper into the compartment. The rumble of the engines echoed off the bulkheads. The dual Hughes & Kessler X-560 ion thrusters were massive. Long tubular structures that delivered over 2.5 million foot-pounds of thrust each. Like a bolt of lightning, energy arced from the transformer to the ion induction terminal. It was a constant flow of energy—and not something you wanted to get anywhere near. Just looking at the blue arcing energy for more than a few moments would burn your retinas out. The ultraviolet light within the beam was enough to cause a hellacious sunburn after only 15 minutes of exposure.
Zane jabbed twice, then threw another punishing right. This time his fist connected with Max’s jaw. It wrenched her neck aside, splitting her luscious lips. Blood sprayed from her mouth, and her cheeks were taking on a lovely bluish green color.
Max staggered back and regained her footing. It was a helluva punch. She shook it off and tried to get back into the fight.
They were now in between the two massive engines. The roar was deafening.
Zane swung again.
Max dodged out of the way, and planted a fist into his rib cage. Zane buckled around her knuckles. Max cracked him with a solid right. It shattered his nose, and his head snapped back. Blood trickled down his lips. But it only seemed to anger him.
He looked through his brow at her, eyes on fire. Zane charged her, tackling her into the port-side engine. He slammed several kidney punches into her back. Then grabbed a handful of her raven black hair. He shoved her face toward the arcing energy.
Max struggled against him with all her might, but she didn't have much leverage. The heat from the beam was intense. Beads of sweat formed on her skin. Zane kept pushing her face closer and closer to oblivion. She clenched her teeth, and the veins in her neck bulged. Her entire body trembled as she resisted.
The crackling sound of the arcing energy was unnerving. It was like a giant bug zapper, and Max was about to get fried. The hairs on the back of her neck stood tall. The charged particles filled the air. The smell was sharp and clean. The light emanating from the beam was blinding. It had an almost unnatural blue hue to it.
To hell if Max was going to go out this way. She slammed an elbow into Zane’s gut, then spun around and cracked him in the jaw with her fist.
Zane tumbled back a step. But Max didn't let up. She kept pummeling him, forcing him back. Then she leapt into the air and kicked him in the chest with all of her might. It hurt like a son-of-a-bitch—pain stabbed through her femur. This was definitely exceeding her post surgical rehab protocol.
But it did the job.
Zane fell back into the energy beam of the starboard engine. It sent a lethal charge through his body, boiling his flesh from the bone. He screamed in agony for a few seconds before his entire body was vaporized. He crackled and popped, and his charred corpse finally flopped to the deck. It smoldered and sizzled, and the stench was horrendous.
Max breathed deep, then hobbled back into the corridor to find Riley.
43
Riley squeezed Max so tight that she almost couldn't breathe. “I knew you'd come.”
"I keep my promises." Max held onto Riley for dear life. She handed her a plasma pistol and escorted her into a nearby compartment. “You stay here while I take care of these creeps. Shoot anybody that steps through the hatch. You know how to use one of these?"
Riley nodded. “Dad taught me when I was just a kid."
“You’re still just a kid.”
She arched an eyebrow at Max. “An experience like this ages you."
Max couldn't help but chuckle at the sassy child. "I think this experience has aged all of us.”
Max sealed Riley inside the compartment, then stepped back into the corridor. She made her way back toward the engineering compartment and grabbed her rifle that lay on the deck in the corridor outside. Now it was time to pay a visit to Conrad Headley.
Max made her way through the ship, creeping through the corridors with her weapon in the firing position. The only people left were the crew of servants, and they weren't going to cause Max any problems.
Headley had barricaded himself into his recreational compartment. It didn't take much for Max to bypass the locking mechanism and storm in.
Grant’s face went pale. His eyes widened at the sight of Max. He forced a slick smile and tried to talk his way out of it. “Nothing personal. It was just business.“ Then he reached for his plasma pistol.
Max squeezed the trigger and a plasma bolt rocketed across the compartment, vaporizing Grant’s arm before he could lift the pistol from its holster.
Grant screamed in agony as what remained of his arm flopped to the deck. The blistering heat from the plasma projectile seared the arteries in his shoulder, keeping him from bleeding to death.
“Where’s Dylan?”
“Like I said, he's on special assignment,” he muttered in-between groans, clutching his stump of an arm.
"Bullshit. What have you done with him?” Max's eyes narrowed as she lined Grant’s skull up in her sights.
“Okay, okay. I can take you to him. He’s unharmed. We just needed him out of the way.”
Max fired a shot into Grant’s thigh. He crumpled to the ground, screaming again.
“I'll deal with you in a minute." She focused her attention on Headley.
He looked understandably uneasy. “You seem like an intelligent, capable woman. I could use someone like you on my team. I'm sure we can work something out between us.”
“Call off the assassination," Max demanded.
“It’s too late. The plan is already in motion.”
A live feed of the X50 Summit displayed on a nearby screen. President Stafford stood behind a lectern, giving his speech to the Council. Max watched out of the corner of her eyes with baited breath.
Suddenly, plasma bolts streaked in Stafford’s direction from the crowd. Several Secret Service agents tackled the president, forming a human shield with their bodies.
Max watched as more agents returned fire, killing the fleeing suspect in the crowd.
It was pure pandemonium. Summit attendees scattered in all directions, shrieking in terror. Reporters frantically spouted their own commentary to the visuals that were broadcast.
The Secret Service carried the president out of the chamber. There was no way of knowing if he was alive or dead. The reporters could only speculate on his condition.
“I want you to think this is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity," Hadley said. "Put that weapon down and come to work for me, and you will have more money than you could ever use in five lifetimes.”
There was no doubt about it, Max could use the money. Her pension wasn't enough to live on, and picking up merc work wasn't exactly the most fulfilling thing. But it didn't matter how much money Conrad Headley could offer. She wouldn't take a nickel from a guy like that.
“I'm sorry, Mr. Headley. Even you don't have enough money to buy me.” She put the reticle of the sight square on his forehead and squeezed the trigger. The plasma bolt boiled his brain. His carcass flopped back into the lounge chair, staining the seat cushions crimson red.
She marched over to Grant and towered over the runt as he cowered in the fetal position, sniveling.
“Where is Dylan?”
“I'll take you to him, if you promise to let me live.”
“You're not in a position to negotiate.”
“If you kill me, you'll never find him.”
“Don't bet on it.” Max aimed her rifle at his head. “Last chance.”
Grant sneered at her in defiance. “You can't stop what's happening. We've infiltrated too many agencies. Too many things are in motion. Headley was just a source of funding. We will take over the Federation from within.”
“Not on my watch.” Max squeezed the trigger, vaporizing Grant's head. She kicked his corpse into the pool, and crimson blood clouded the water around his carcass. She was going to have to find Dylan the hard way.
Max weaved her way through the corridors back to where she had left Zero. But he was gone. She continued to search the ship and finally found him in the med facility. One of the ship’s servant crew had helped him get to the med pod and initiate the emergency protocol.
Zero had propped himself up in a recovery bed and was smoking a joint for pain management. Or, at least, that was his excuse. The compartment was thick with haze from the majuva herb. Zero’s eyes were red and glassy, and the air had a spicy sweet aroma. “You get everything sorted out?"
“Yeah," Max said, proud of her accomplishments. "But you're definitely unemployed now.”
“Ah, it was a crappy job anyway. And the boss sucked.”
Max chuckled. “How are you feeling?”
“Are you kidding me? I feel great. I'm all patched up, and I'll be right as rain in no time.”
“Take it easy. I think that's the majuva talking.”
“Take it easy? You're one to talk.”
Max chuckled again.
“Is Riley okay?"
Max smiled. “Yeah. She's fine.”
“Good.” He paused for a moment. "So where are we off to now?”
Max grinned. “I’ve got a special agent and a robot to find.”
44
A sleek SpaceStream ZX-7 Predator sat on the flight deck of the Solocci. It was a luxury interstellar transport—the crème de la crème of private travel. Room for a pilot, copilot, and four passengers. It had luxurious appointments and plush handcrafted leather seats. The passenger cabin was fitted with crisp ultra definition displays, a mini-bar, a galley, and a sleeper compartment. Conrad Headley’s initials were stitched into the headrests of the seats.
Max, Zero, and Riley climbed on board. Headley sure wasn't going to miss it. It was going to be their ticket back to Federation space.
Max made sure Riley was buckled into her safety harness, then slipped into the pilot’s seat and powered up the craft. The controls lit up, and the dash came alive. The system went through its preflight checks, and came back green.
It was possible that the Specters were still out there. Max had no way of knowing if the pilots were as corrupt as Grant, but it was a safe bet. It was hard to say how many agents within the FCIS were part of Headley's coup attempt. It seemed that he was only a small part in the insurgent movement to take control of the Federation.
Max was about to program jump coordinates when her mobile device buzzed. She slid the piece of smart glass from her pocket and looked at the display screen. The caller was unknown. She swiped the device and Dylan's face appeared on screen. He had dark circles under his eyes and abrasions on his face. There was a gash across the bridge of his nose that had scabbed over. His skin took on hues of green, purple, and a sickly yellow. He had been fed one too many knuckle sandwiches.
“You're looking well," Max said, her voice dripping with sarcasm. Max wasn't faring much better, but she was happy to see Dylan alive. She stifled a smile, not wanting to look too elated.
“I'm still breathing, so that's a good thing. I need to warn you about Agent Grant.”
“No need. Already figured that one out on my own,” Max said. “What happened to you? Are you okay?"
“Yeah, I'm fine. I had a little run-in with some fellow agents. Long story, but I managed to escape. I've got a handful of agents that I know I can trust. We’re trying to root out the insurgents. There’s been an assassination attempt—”
“On the president. I know.” Max caught him up to speed on everything that had happened.
“Several Congressmen are also implicated. This was nothing short of a coup attempt. I’m going to need your help.”
Max grinned. “Of course you are. Where are you?”
“Epsilon Reticuli 5. ”
“I can be there in about nine hours. I've got to make a stop on Beta Nova 2 first. Riley’s aunt is going to look after her.”
“I'll see you soon. Stay safe out there. Oh, by the way, did you lose a robot?"
Max's eyes perked up. "Have you found Winston?”
“Looks like you've got another stop to make. He turned up at a used bot dealership on Polaris Minor 3. His serial number was in the Federation database since he was a material witness. We got notified as soon as he was scanned into their system. He's in one piece, but his memory is wiped.”
“I've got a backup."
“You’re going to have to buy him back.”
Max frowned. “Figures.”
“Call Big Rick. I'll send his info over to you. He's going to hold him until you get there.” Max cringed at the thought of how much she was going to have to pay. A shady used dealership would probably charge more than new. But Winston was worth it.
Max disconnected the call and engaged the thrusters. The Predator lifted from the flight deck and Max eased the craft out of the bay. She activated the slide-space drive before the Specters had a chance to attack—if the were even still lurking out there. The Predator vanished, leaving a small quantum distortion in its wake.
Riley was safe, Dylan was still alive, and soon, Winston would be back in Max’s possession. She was thankful for the small miracle. The Federation may have been on the verge of chaos, but with Max Mars on the case, it wasn't going to stay that way for long.
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Tripp Ellis Catalogue
The Orion Conspiracy
Starship Scorpion
Starship Desolation
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Starship Exodus
Pursuit of Valor
Search for Honor
Wow! The response to Max has been just fantastic! THANK YOU. It means I get to keep writing her. Max may not be the best role model in the galaxy, but I like her because she’s got guts, and heart, and is always trying to do the right thing. She fights authority and gets things done her own way. And she cares deeply about the people close to her.
As I’ve said before, Max helps me escape the challenge of the day. I hope she does the same for you. I’m fascinated by regenerative medicine, and I hope that one day we’ll have the types compounds and procedures that are fiction now. I think we are maybe a decade away from hip and knee replacements being a thing of the past. Perhaps, in the future, a simple injection will regrow cartilage. Maybe precision robotic surgery will have a 99.99% success rate. Who knows? But it’s fun to think about.
In the author notes of book one, I mentioned that a pipe had burst in my house. Well, I tore out the sheet rock with the help of a buddy, remediated the damage, and we taped and floated the wall. But we found more damage, and tore out more sheet rock, so the saga continues. If only I had some automated robots to do the work, because it cuts into my writing time, lol. Hopefully, by the time I publish Max Mars 3, the house will be put back together. Stay tuned.
Again, thank you for allowing me to create this character. Now, it’s time for me to start writing the next Max Mars book. I hope to have it out in early September.
Wishing you the best,
Tripp
I'm just a geek who loves sci-fi and horror. I was abducted by aliens and forced to travel the galaxy as the official biographer of an evil galactic ruler. This is where I learned to hone my craft. Fortunately, I escaped and made my way back to Earth, and now I write about my adventures. I hope you enjoy!
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