by Tripp Ellis
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.