Siege on Star Cruise 239

by Tripp Ellis

  "We received a distress call. Just wanted to make sure everything was okay."

  "Everything's okay here," Tobias said.

  "Who am I speaking to you?"

  "This is Captain Gibson."

  "I need to verify your security code."

  Tobias glanced at Chad, who mouthed the numbers 11396725.

  "11396725,” Tobias said.

  There was a long moment of silence as the CPPA checked their database.

  A few moments later, Jack crackled back over the line “Alright. Are you sure everything's okay?

  “We’re fine,” Tobias assured. “Perhaps it was some drunk passenger playing around with the comm line. We've got a pretty rambunctious group this time around. It’s a party cruise.”

  Across the ship, Max watched from a viewport on A deck. Her anxious eyes focused on the StarKnight. "Come on, come on, come on! What are you waiting for?" She lifted up on her toes, bouncing slightly in anticipation. Her face crinkled as the StarKnight banked around, then vanished into quantum space, leaving a ripple in its wake.

  Max clenched her jaw. "What the fuck?"

  She didn't have much time to gripe about the turn of events—a flurry of bullets streaked down the corridor toward her. They sparked off the bulkhead, ricocheting down the hallway. As Max dashed to the safety of a nearby corridor, she glimpsed back at Rex at the end of the hallway. The staccato flashes of muzzle fire illuminating the corridor.

  Max plowed down the hallway and took a right at the next junction. She weaved her way through the corridors, finally ducking into the casino.

  She raced past slot machines taking cover underneath the blackjack table. The room was empty, but the machines were still making noises, trying to attract customers. Displays flashed and buzzers rang.

  Max streaked past slot machines, roulette wheels, and craps tables, finally taking cover underneath a blackjack table. In the midst of the chaos of the takeover, passengers had left their cards and chips on the tables. There were millions of credits on tabletops just for the taking.

  Max could hear her pulse throbbing in her ears. She crouched down, peering through the legs of the table toward the entrance. No one entered the room for several moments, and Max began to think she had eluded her stalker. But a moment later she saw Rex's feet as he cautiously edged inside the compartment. He scoured the rows of slot machines, weapon in the firing position, his finger tight around the trigger.

  Max reached a delicate hand atop the blackjack table and grabbed a handful of chips. She brought them down and glanced at them. Just a few chips worth 1 million credits each. All this money on the tables, and the terrorists didn't seem concerned with it in the least. They must've been after something much bigger, she thought.

  Max could see Rex drawing near. She carefully lobbed a chip across the compartment. The slim disc clanked against the slot machines. Max watched Rex's feet snap in the direction of the sound. He advanced, passing the blackjack table, failing to notice Max.

  18

  The underside of the table was dotted with pieces of gum. Max could smell the dirty, highly trafficked carpet. Countless cocktails had been spilled on the orange and yellow patterned fabric. As luxurious as the cruise ship was, you'd have thought they'd change out the carpet more often. They needed to fire their casino decorator. The geometric pattern on the floor looked like something out of the 1970s.

  Max launched toward Rex as he passed, wrapping her arm around his throat from behind. She squeezed hard as he flailed, discharging several rounds that took out an oversized slot machine. The display glass shattered, and the machine died with an electronic warble. Rex's face turned tomato red, and the veins in his forehead bulged like pipelines.

  He slammed Max back against the edge of a slot machine. The coins inside rattled. The corner jammed between Max’s shoulder blades, as Rex mashed her against the device multiple times. She grimaced with pain. The impact had caused her grip to loosen enough for Rex to spin around.

  Max grabbed the barrel jacket of his rifle, thrusting it toward the ceiling. Another burst of fire pelted against the roof deck, bouncing down and shattering another slot machine’s display with a flurry of sparks.

  Grunts and groans filled the air as the two scuffled.

  Max yanked the barrel aside with one hand, planting an elbow into the goon’s face with the other. His nose shattered, spewing blood on the already stained carpet. His head tipped back and Max planted a swift kick in his balls.

  He groaned in agony as he doubled over.

  Max stripped the weapon and spun around, taking aim.

  Rex reached for a backup pistol around his ankle. He brought the weapon up towards Max, but she squeezed off a flurry of death. Bullets peppered his chest, staining his shirt with spots of blood the size of a quarter that quickly grew into the size of a fist. He flopped back to the deck, and before long, his chest was soaked with crimson blood. He gurgled a few breaths, then his chest stopped heaving.

  Max took a moment to catch her breath. She glanced to the entrance to make sure no one was coming, then she knelt down beside the corpse. She pulled the earbud from his ear and wiped the earwax off on her skirt. Then she placed it in her ear canal. Now she had access to the terrorists’ communications.

  Max peeled off his blood-soaked tactical vest and slipped it on. It had several pouches with extra magazines and thermal grenades. It wasn't the perfect accessory to a black cocktail dress, but it was much needed.

  As the rummaged through the pockets she found a sparkling engagement ring. The flawless diamond shimmered in the casino light. Was Rex planning on popping the question to the cyborg, Max wondered? It seemed an odd situation in which to propose, but the more Max thought about it, the more sense it made. If the siege was successful, the terrorists would want to celebrate. Emotions would run high. What better time? It was warped, but it kinda made sense, if you were a criminal. She shook her head at the craziness and pocketed the ring.

  Max grabbed Rex’s pistol and picked up the assault rifle from the deck. She hiked up her skirt and stuffed the pistol in the small of her back. It hung low in the waistband of her panties. Max pulled the skirt back down and took a last look at Rex. His lifeless eyes were fixed at the ceiling.

  She grabbed a stack of cards from a nearby blackjack table. She thumbed through them and found the suicide king. She placed the card on Rex's chest. A not so subtle note to the terrorists.

  Max moved to the casino entrance. Her cautious eyes scanned the hallway. Empty.

  The whole miniskirt situation wasn't going to work. Max needed to find some more suitable combat attire. She inched into the corridor with the weapon in the firing position, weaving her way through the maze of passageways until she found the ship’s clothing boutique. Casual attire and swimwear hung from the racks. There were shirts with loud Hawaiian prints, cargo shorts, swimwear, and pool accessories. She found a pair of cargo pants in her size and slid them on. She took off the tactical vest and set it aside, then peeled off the dress. She grab a tank top from one of the racks and pulled it over her curves. It fit her like a glove. She shouldered the tactical vest, then grabbed a pair of sneakers and laced them up. On her way out, she grabbed a couple of snack bars and a pack of gum from the racks near the checkout counter, then moved to the entrance of the store.

  Tobias’s voice crackled in her earbud, "Rex, give me a status update. Have you found the troublemaker?"

  Max couldn't resist. “I found the troublemaker, alright."

  There was a long moment of silence.

  "Who is this? Where is Rex?"

  "Rex seems to have developed some health problems."

  "Is that so?"

  "He just stopped breathing for some reason. Perhaps the bullet holes in his chest have something to do with it?”

  There was another long moment of silence.

  "And to whom do I have the pleasure of speaking?"

  "Nobody special."

  "Don't sell yourself short. You seem very spe
cial indeed if you could disable one of my best men."

  "If that was your best man, then you've got problems."

  Tobias’s voice tightened. It had a sharp, angered tone, but was still measured. ”If you're some kind of police officer, I'd advise you to stand down before you get innocent people killed."

  Max chuckled. "I'm not a cop."

  "Ship’s security then?"

  “Wrong again. Just a concerned citizen with vacation that got cut short."

  "Well, I do apologize for that. Perhaps we can come to some kind of arrangement?”

  "What do you have in mind?"

  "Come to the bridge. We could meet and discuss. I'm sure I could compensate you in some way to make it worth your while. Perhaps you're fighting on the wrong team?"

  "I'm not on anybody's team."

  "A free agent? Even better,” Tobias said. “My men will search the ship. They will find you. You can't hide forever. Why don't you make things easier on yourself. Turn yourself in now, and I'm sure we can get past this little incident."

  “Right… the check’s in the mail. I won’t cum in your mouth… yada, yada, yada…”

  “Ah, a skeptic.”

  “A healthy dose of skepticism is what’s kept me alive this long.”

  “I can assure you, my friend, you won’t be alive for much longer.”

  19

  “Pull up the security feeds. See if you can locate this person,” Tobias said.

  Chad’s fingers stroked the keypad and pulled up a bank of security feeds on the monitor. He paged through a few screens—there were dozens of cameras throughout the ship, mainly placed in critical locations. A flash of movement blurred by one of the cameras. “ I’ve got movement heading aft in section 43.”

  "Brody, Jaxon… Go eliminate this individual before they become a major pain in my ass," Tobias commanded.

  The goons headed for the hatch. They were big, thick bruisers. Each of them over 6 feet tall. They looked like they spent an inordinate amount of time in the gym, mainly working on upper body—almost disproportionately so.

  "Wait," Surge shouted. "What's going on? Where's Rex?" Her eyes were filled with dread, and her body trembled slightly.

  Tobias flashed a sympathetic glance in her direction and Surge knew instantly Rex wasn't coming back. The muscles in her jaw flexed. Her whole body tensed. For a moment she looked like she was going to burst into tears, but she stifled her emotions. "This cocksucker is mine. Nobody touch him," she barked.

  "It's not a him," Tobias said.

  Surge’s eyes narrowed.

  "Fine,” Tobias sighed. “Go with Brody and Jaxon. Get rid of the troublemaker and get back here ASAP. I don't have time for this nonsense. It has already diverted too many of my resources."

  "Rex was a lot more than a resource," Surge growled.

  She spun around and marched out of the compartment. Brody and Jaxon followed behind her.

  Surge glanced over her shoulder at them. "Nobody kills this bitch but me."

  They nodded in agreement. Surge could be quite intimidating when she was angry. They wanted no part of her wrath.

  "Chad, eject all the escape pods, and disable their distress beacons.”

  “Aye, sir."

  “Seal the ship aft of section 32. Lock down all critical compartments.”

  “Aye-aye, sir,” Chad replied.

  Tobias’s eyes narrowed at him. Chad’s mock salutations were starting to grate on his nerves a little. "Plot jump coordinates for Draco Ceti 6, and prep the slide space drive.”

  "I've almost got the system completely secure from outside interference. Give me 15 minutes and I'll have us ready to make a quantum jump."

  "You’ve got 10," Tobias said. "Logan, Xavier… Come with me. I think it's time I introduced myself to our hostages." A glint of superiority flickered in his eyes. He enjoyed being in control and dominating the ship.

  He strolled out of the bridge and made his way to the cargo hold. Thousands of terrified faces were huddled in the dark. Several goons with assault rifles watched over them, keeping the crowd in line, exercising lethal force when necessary.

  "Good afternoon ladies and gentlemen," Tobias said as he strutted into the compartment. His voice echoed through the cavernous space. "I'm terribly sorry to have interrupted your vacation, but duty calls. If you cooperate, and do as I ask, you will remain unharmed. If you refuse to comply, you will be executed. It's very simple."

  "What do you want?" someone shouted.

  Tobias nodded to one of the guards, an unspoken command.

  The goon marched over to the person who spoke up and put a bullet into his head.

  The rest of the passengers shrieked in terror as the man flopped to the deck, blood spurting from the hole in his temple. It was like a pulsating fountain, squirting with each beat of his quickly fading heart.

  "I'm sorry, but I did not give anyone permission to ask questions." Tobias smiled. "As you can see, disobedience is not tolerated. Are there any more questions?"

  The mortified faces of the passengers gazed at Tobias with fear and hate. But nobody said a word.

  "Good.”

  Declan Vanderbilt looked restless. One of his bodyguards put a hand on his arm, attempting to settle him. This was not the time or place to draw attention to yourself. But Vanderbilt didn't like being told what to do. He was usually in control of everything. He always got what he wanted. Everyone in the galaxy always had their price. This was an unusual situation for him.

  Vanderbilt stood up.

  There were audible gasps from the rest of the passengers as they stared at him in disbelief. Those near him coward, fearing they would be shot by accident.

  A goon raised his gun and took aim, ready to blast the wealthy man.

  Tobias waved him off.

  "I suppose I know why you're here," Vanderbilt said.

  "I suppose you do, Mr. Vanderbilt," Tobias responded.

  "Let the passengers go, and I will see to it you get what you want."

  "That's very generous of you, Mr. Vanderbilt, but it is really out of your hands now, isn't it? You don't have access to the vault."

  Vanderbilt’s face tensed.

  "If I were you, I would sit back down. There’s nothing you can do that won’t end up badly for you.”

  20

  The blast door at section 32 was sealed. Surge and her crew held up. She tapped her earbud, perturbed. “I need you to open the hatch!”

  A moment later, Chad’s voice crackled back. “Give me a minute. I need to find the access controls.”

  The muscles in Surge’s jaw flexed. She fidgeted anxiously for a few moments. “What’s taking so long?”

  “Hold your horses.”

  The hatch suddenly slid open, and Surge and her team marched aft.

  “A thank you would be nice,” Chad said.

  “Eat a dick,” Surge barked. She crept forward with her team, sweeping the hall with the barrels of their weapons.

  “Language!” Chad said, in mock offense.

  “Fuck off, you little twerp. Where is she?”

  Chad gazed at the security monitor. He caught sight of Max trying to get into a compartment. But he wasn’t exactly inclined to help Surge out at the moment. “No sign of her yet.”

  The quantum field generator was in the compartment next to the reactor. Beyond the reactor room was the engine room.

  Max pressed the access button on the bulkhead, but the hatch didn’t open. Her face tensed with frustration as she mashed the button a few more times.

  Still nothing.

  Max placed her hand against the biometric keypad, attempting to recall the CSO’s fingerprints. She held it there for moment, but it didn’t work. A puzzled look washed over her face. She tried again.

  Still nothing.

  Was she losing the ability to sample fingerprints, she wondered?

  She closed her eyes and focused her concentration, still holding her hand against the pad. The hatch finally slid open. The disp
lay screen read: access granted, Officer Taylor.

  Max moved to the control terminal at the front of the compartment. She powered down the field generator. It was a tall cylindrical tower in the middle of the chamber. There were all sorts of wires and pipes and circuits, with a glowing central core. Display panels and gages flickered. The room gave off an eerie vibe. This was the room where time and space was manipulated. It was mankind messing with things that had been outside their grasp for eons. It was only through reverse engineering alien technology that quantum field generators had been developed. Max didn't fully understand how the device allowed the ship to transport across the galaxy, but she knew without a quantum modulator, the field generator would be useless.

  The modulator was a small circuit the size of a credit card. Max moved to the controls on the field generator and opened a panel. She scanned the rows of circuit boards, pressed a button, and ejected the modulator. She clasped it between her fingers and stuffed it in one of her cargo pockets. The Celestial Voyager wasn't going to be making any slide-space jumps anytime soon.

  Surge and her goons held up outside the hatch to the quantum field generator. Brody took one side, Jaxon took the other, while Surge peered into the compartment through the polycarbonate viewport in the hatch. She didn't see anyone inside. She tried the hatch, but it wouldn’t open. She scowled and tapped her earbud. "I need access!”

  "What's the magic word?” Chad asked from the bridge, his voice crackling in her ear.

  Surge's face tensed. "Ass whoop-ping! Which is exactly what you're going to get when I get back to the bridge."

  "I'm trembling."

  "You should be. Now open it."

  Chad fumbled for the controls and opened the hatch. Surge and her crew stormed in, sweeping the compartment with tactical precision.

  "Clear," Jaxon shouted.

  "Clear," Brody shouted.

  Surge grimaced as she rounded the tall, cylindrical core in the center of the compartment. Max was nowhere to be found.