Blade of Vengeance (Max Mars Book 2)

by Tripp Ellis

  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.