by Tripp Ellis
Max Mars
Siege on Star Cruise 239
Tripp Ellis
Copyright © 2018 by Tripp Ellis
All rights reserved. Worldwide.
This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents, except for incidental references to public figures, products, or services, are fictitious. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales, or organizations is entirely coincidental, and not intended to refer to any living person or to disparage any company’s products or services.
No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, uploaded, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereafter devised, without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
Contents
Characters
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Thank You!
Max Mars
The Galactic Wars Series
The Tarvaax War Series
Connect With Me
Characters
Max Mars is a genetically engineered super soldier. Part of the disbanded project SW Ultra. Enhanced speed, strength, and healing ability, are all part of her unique qualities. She can transform her hair and eye color on command, and shift her fingerprints to match anyone she samples. She hates injustice, and searches the galaxy looking for the ruthless Silas Rage—another former member of SW Ultra who is responsible for the death of her creator, and spiritual father, Doctor Tor. But her enhanced genetics come with a price—limited lifespan. No one knows how long she’ll live, but she’s determined to make the most of every second.
Winston is a neurotic robot with more heart and soul that most people. His programming prevents him from harming humans, or allowing them to be harmed—but sometimes he can justify certain actions that may result in a greater good. He’ll never leave Max’s side.
Felix is a blue haired Antarian cat. He also goes by the alias, Ruler of the Known Universe. He may, or may not, be telepathic.
Dylan is an FCIS agent (Federation Criminal Investigative Service). He’s also Max’s on-again, off-again lover. He’s a good guy, they just can’t seem to work it out.
1
One wrong step would mean certain death—and there were plenty of opportunities for a misstep.
Zamgora was a hellhole. Literally. An inter-dimensional inferno. The surface was covered in glowing orange molten lava. Suspended above the sea of fire were plates of rock that hovered in the air. The heavy content of zertanium in the rock somehow repelled it from the planet’s core. The plates hovered 30 to 40 feet above the ocean-like inferno.
Max raced from plate to plate, leaping across the gaps as she foolishly chased a man across the precarious terrain. Her eyes were laser focused, and her face was tight. She ran as fast as she could, given the conditions. She had a look of determination in her eyes. It was the kind of look that you didn’t want to be on the other side of.
The terrain was rocky and uneven, making it easy to trip or turn an ankle. The edges of the plates were brittle and prone to crumbling away. Sometimes the gaps in between the plates were only a few feet. In other places, they were stretching the limits that a human could comfortably jump. But Max wasn’t one to stay in her comfort zone.
The heat from the lava below distorted the air. Sweat beaded on Max’s forehead, and her chest heaved for breath. The hot air was stifling. It burned Max’s lungs with each breath.
Max sprang into the air and leapt across a chasm. Her boots smacked the other side and slid across the dirt and gravel, kicking up a small plume of dust. As if her situation weren't precarious enough, the man she was chasing turned back and fired several plasma blasts in her direction. The blistering bolts streaked inches past her. The man's accuracy wasn't exactly stellar, considering the uneven ground he was running across. Still, the bolts were a little too close for comfort.
Max wasn't going to let that kind of aggression stand. She fired back at the man. But she had no intention of killing him. Not yet, at least. The blasts from her plasma weapon impacted at the man's feet, shooting geysers of dirt and debris into the air. He zigged and zagged, weaving his way across the chunk of rock. He leapt across a gap, landing on the next plate, continuing his frantic dash.
Max was several paces behind him, but she was gaining ground. More plasma bolts streaked in her direction. She dodged again, narrowly evading the searing projectiles of death. At over a million degrees, getting hit by one wouldn't be any fun.
Max leapt across the chasm of fire to the next plate. The orange glow illuminated her face as she soared through the air. Stars shimmered above like glitter in the heavens. The inky blackness of the cosmos enveloped the molten planet in a celestial blanket. There was an odd beauty to the place. Desolate and deadly, but visually stunning—in a demonic sort of way. This was the closest to hell that Max ever wanted to get.
The chase rambled on for several more minutes as the two leapt from floating plateau to floating plateau—until the man came up a tad short as he jumped across a chasm. He found himself dangling from the edge of one of the plates, his fingers gripping the brittle rock, his feet swaying over the lava flow below.
Max jumped over the gap and landed on the floating island. She towered over the man as he clung on for dear life. A slight hint of a smile tugged at her plush lips. Her blue eyes glimmered with glee.
Usually a smile from Max was something to relish. She had model good looks. Sculpted cheekbones, raven black hair, and long lashes that could make a man's heart melt with a subtle flutter. Her form-fitting tactical bodysuit left nothing to the imagination, and her sumptuous form could take your breath away.
The guy hanging onto the edge of the plateau wasn't able to appreciate her stunning attributes. The only thing he was concerned about was not getting deep-fried. His pathetic eyes gazed up at her, pleading for mercy. He had a rugged face, a scraggly goatee, and a short mohawk. His name was Deacon Ander—but he was no priest. He was wanted in 12 sectors for multiple infractions, ranging from petty larceny to murder. But that’s not why Max was chasing him.
"Tell me where he is, and I'll help you up," Max said.
Deacon thought about this for a moment. His eyes flicked to the molten lava below, then back to Max. She was his only salvation. He would say just about anything he needed to in order to stay alive. All it would take would be the stomp of Max’s boots on his fingers and he’d soon fall into the fiery abyss. “Okay. I’ll tell you where he is.”
“I’m listening.”
“Gandria.”
“Bullshit.”
“I’m telling you the truth.”
Max placed her boot on top of his fingers and applied gentle pressure.
Deacon so
on got the hint. “Okay, okay. Nova Trava. Silas is on Nova Trava.”
Max felt a flutter in her heart. She wanted to believe him. The thought of finally catching up with the man who had killed Doctor Tor filled her with anticipation. Revenge would be a dish she served seasoned with a healthy dose of hate. But she still wasn’t buying what Deacon was selling. “Bullshit!”
Deacon was getting desperate.
The pressure of Max’s boot on his fingers was growing. His grip was getting tenuous. His eyes made another nervous glance to the fiery death that waited below. He grumbled to himself, “Motherfucker!”
“Yes. It’s going to hurt like a motherfucker when you hit that lava.”
“Alright. He’s on Epsilon Vega 5.” His tone was genuine. “You’ll find him in Sol Duvaa on Epsilon Vega 5.”
Max’s eyes narrowed at him for a moment. She always knew when someone was lying to her, and it didn’t seem like the goon was lying. She gazed at him long and hard as she pondered her options. She thought about mashing the heel of her boot against his fingers until he fell away into oblivion. Ridding the galaxy of another scumbag seemed like a good idea. It wasn’t like this guy was going to cure a disease, end starvation, or unite the galaxy. Max couldn’t think of an upside to letting him live. But Max just wasn’t that kind of person—she only killed people who deserved it. And though this cretin probably did deserve it, she had no direct proof to make such a judgment. After all, it was Silas Rage who killed Doctor Tor. Not this scumbag. She wasn’t in the business of assassinating criminal associates without just cause. Max squatted down and reached out a hand, ready to pull the sweaty goon to safety.
Deacon gave her a questioning glance. Could he trust Max? After a moment’s pause, he figured he could. He clasped her hand and Max began to heave him up. He scurried over the ledge, and just as soon as he was on sure footing, he spun around and shoved Max over. She plummeted down toward the molten lava.
Maybe she should have let the dirt-ball fry?
2
The situation was reversed. Max grasped the ledge at the last moment before she plummeted to the blistering magma below. She dangled by one hand, which was promptly smashed by Deacon’s heavy boot.
Still clinging to her plasma pistol, Max took aim and fired several shots up at the thug. He leaned back and stepped away from the ledge, moving out of range.
Max took the opportunity to hoist herself up and climb onto the floating plate of rock. She was met with a boot to the face. It slammed into her jaw, splitting her lip, spewing crimson blood. It wrenched her neck aside, putting her off balance, but she managed to stay on the floating rock. Pain shot through her jaw and down her spine. The impact gnashed her teeth together, and she was certain she had chipped a tooth.
She sprang to her feet and took aim at the goon, blood trickling down her chin. Before she could get a shot off, Deacon grabbed the pistol, and the two struggled over the weapon.
Several blasts fired into the air as the two fought. Max kicked the goon in the balls, and he doubled over with pain. He let out an anguished groan. Max stripped the weapon from his grasp and lined him up in her sights.
“Okay, okay. You win," Deacon said as he hunched on his knees, trying to catch his breath. He felt like his balls were in his throat.
"Give me one good reason why I shouldn't pull the trigger and waste your sorry ass?"
Deacon huffed and puffed. "I'll personally lead you to Silas Rage."
He had Max's full attention.
Sol Duvaa is a big city. I can take you right to him." Deacon attempted to stand tall, but he was still hunched over.
"Somehow I think you're more trouble than you're worth." Max's finger was wrapped precariously tight around the trigger. She spit a pinkish mix of blood and saliva onto the rocky ground. "I think I'm just gonna finish you here.” She was just bluffing, trying to get a rise out of him.
“I’m afraid I can't let that happen," Deacon said. He spun around, swinging a roundhouse kick toward Max with surprising agility. His boot caught the barrel of the plasma pistol, sending it spiraling into the fiery abyss. He followed it with a leaping front kick to Max's chest.
It knocked her back several steps and she teetered on the edge of the rock. She swung her arms, trying to balance herself as Deacon charged toward her, ready to finish her off.
Max sidestepped as he barreled forward. She used his momentum to thrust him over the edge. He screamed like a bitch as he plummeted toward the molten lava.
His shrill screech abruptly ended as he smacked the glowing liquid. Splashes of orange lava vaulted into the air. Max could hear his flesh sizzling from the bone. Wisps of smoke wafted from the bubbling soup of death. Max peered over the edge—all traces of Deacon had vanished.
Max wiped the blood from her lip with her sleeve, then headed back the way she came. Her jaw ached, and her fingers were crushed. They were multiple shades of purple, blue, black, and yellow. They were throbbing with pain now and had no intention of stopping anytime soon.
Max was usually good with pain. Her tolerance was high, and she had always been able to compartmentalize the sensation—push it into the corner of her mind and ignore it. She had been through a lot in her lifetime, and in the scheme of things, this little injury was nothing. With her advanced genetics, she would heal in no time. But for some reason it seemed to bother her more than usual.
She leapt from floating rock to floating rock, making her way back to the large landmass where her ship was, hopefully, still waiting. As she reached the large chunk of rock, she passed by the smoldering wreckage of Deacon’s ship and found Winston, just where she had left him. He was keeping a watchful eye on Max’s ship.
Winston was a sleek XR-709 service bot. He stood 5’10” tall, with composite plastic body panels over an alloy skeleton. He was 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.
"Winston took note of Max’s bloodied and bruised face. "I hope the other guy looks worse?”
"Trust me. He does."
"Did you gather any valuable information?"
Max shrugged. “I don’t know.”
Winston kept glancing into the distance, beyond Max, looking for any sign of Deacon. "I take it the perp won’t be joining us?"
"He is now one with the universe," Max said.
"I see." Winston seemed a little disturbed. "I hope I never get on your bad side."
He followed Max as she climbed the ramp into the Vantage VX-890. It was a military spec dropship that was the preferred method of troop insertions for the Navy Reapers. Plasma cannons were mounted under sub-wing pylons, and the craft had a full complement of Hell-Storm II rockets. The composite armor plating was durable and lightweight. The ship was fast and nimble. Four Hughes & Kessler engines provided TBD foot-pounds of thrust. An X9 Vector™ quantum drive allowed the ship to make slide-space jumps across the galaxy. As far as military gunships went, it was the sexiest thing going. The interior smelled like metal, ion exhaust, and combat saturated canvas webbing. This unit had seen plenty of action.
Max had won her fair and square in a bar bet with the Navy pilot who shouldn't have been gambling with government property. Max was sure the Federation wasn't going to be too happy about it when they figured out a drunken pilot had gambled away a multi-million dollar piece of machinery. They would certainly come looking for it, but in the meantime, Max was going to put it to good use. Besides the Federation owed her one. The shitty pension she was collecting from her years of service was nothing to write home about. But it enabled her nomadic lifestyle, and she didn't need much to survive. She wasn't a material girl. Just the basic necessities. Booze, bullets, and a bunk. That was all she needed. Anything more than that was gravy.
Max slipped into the pilot’s seat, flicked a few switches, pressed a f
ew buttons, and the dash came alive. The engines spun up, and the system went through a series of pre-flight checks.
Winston sat in the copilot seat and buckled his safety harness. "May I ask where we're going next?"
“Jakava. But first we’re making a stop on Orion Station."
Winston's face twisted up, perplexed. "I didn't think you were a fan of Orion Station."
"I need to pay a visit to an old friend."
Winston searched his memory banks. He couldn't think of any old friends that Max had on Orion Station. Could she have possibly meant Doctor Matsuda, he wondered? That didn't seem right, though. Max had an aversion to doctors, and Matsuda had lost his license to practice on humans a long time ago.
Max engaged the vertical thrusters, and the Vantage lifted from the surface of the hellhole. Winston was more than excited about leaving. He didn't much care for inhospitable places.
3
Orion Station was only slightly less corrupt than the last time Max had visited. It was a sprawling mega city in space, rife with systemic corruption. After her last visit, she swore she’d never return, but she was partial to Doctor Matsuda. He was the only one she trusted. The fact that he was technically a veterinarian didn’t seem to bother her. On a place like Orion Station, his specialty was catering to criminal types who needed off the books surgeries. You couldn’t just walk into a hospital with a plasma wound without having to answer a bunch of uncomfortable questions.