Siege on Star Cruise 239

by Tripp Ellis

  Max’s fingers were still bruised, stiff, and swollen as she sat in the examination room. They looked like stale bananas a week past their prime. Under normal circumstances, they'd have been fully healed by now. Her jaw still hurt and her lip had a faint scar where Deacon’s fist had made its acquaintance. Max had countless injuries in the past, but none of them had ever left a scar.

  Doctor Matsuda took Max's hand and wiggled her fingers. She grimaced. "Is that absolutely necessary?”

  "Part of the evaluation process," Matsuda muttered.

  Max's eyes narrowed at him. She didn't like being poked and prodded.

  Matsuda put an old-school stethoscope to her chest and listened to her heart and lungs as he instructed Max to inhale and exhale deeply. He didn't seem to react one way or another.

  "I take it I'm still alive?"

  "Yes, still alive." He stared at her for a moment, deep in thought. He slipped his mobile device from a pocket in his lab coat, tabbed through a few screens, launched the scanning app, then proceeded to scan Max's body as she lay on the examination table. The screen displayed a 3D image of her internals in real time. Matsuda was able to select and isolate skeletal structures, organs, soft tissue, muscle, fascia, and the nervous system. It was remarkable technology. The scanner was so detailed it could even evaluate a person's lipid profiles in their bloodstream just by imaging the components of the blood plasma. The resolution was detailed enough to examine mitochondrial DNA without taking a blood draw. It could also identify viruses, bacteria, and other pathogens in the bloodstream. The program would analyze the data and return a list of suspected conditions.

  Matsuda’s expression didn't change much as he read the results, but Max picked up on a subtle indication of concern.

  "What is it?"

  "Everything looks normal."

  "Normal as in good? Or normal as in bad?"

  Matsuda was familiar with Max's genetic enhancements, having treated her before. His tone was solemn. "Normal as in normal."

  Max's face tensed. "Shit. What exactly does that mean?”

  “It means your body is responding the way a normal human being would. Welcome to the club."

  It was a club Max didn't want to join. "Is this a permanent development? I haven't been healing as fast as usual. Stuff seems to hurt more. My joints ache from time to time.”

  "Wait till you get over 60."

  Max scowled at him playfully. She had no desire to grow old.

  "This is just a temporary thing, right? This isn’t like a new normal, is it?"

  Matsuda hesitated a moment.

  Again Max could read his subtle expression. It wasn't good.

  "No. Not exactly.”

  Max felt her blood pressure rise. Not exactly?

  “It's difficult to say. But it's not a new normal. I fear that your genetic structure is slowly deteriorating."

  Max had been dreading this eventuality for quite some time. She knew that all of the members of project SW Ultra were designed with limited longevity. She knew she was going to die at some point—she just figured that she had more time. It was partially a safety precaution. A restriction mandated by the powers that be at the Department of Defense. They were wary of creating genetic super soldiers with an unlimited lifespan. This way, if things went wrong, their enhanced creations couldn't wreak havoc forever. The project had long since been disbanded—the death of Doctor Tor leaving a permanent blemish over the program. It was, perhaps, one of the reasons the DOD let Max retire and go about her way instead of terminating her existence. They figured she wouldn't be around for long. It saved them from the potential negative blowback in the press. Even though the program was top-secret, clandestine projects always seemed to have a way of leaking out.

  Max was silent for a long moment. "How much time have I got?"

  Matsuda shrugged. "How much time do any of us have?"

  Max deflated. She felt like an anchor was pulling her down. She had faced death many times before, but she had always believed she would cheat it. Now it was bearing down on her like a freight train. Inevitable.

  "Let's not read more into this than necessary,” Matsuda said, trying to cheer her up. “This could just be some kind of stress response. You've been going nonstop for how long? Maybe your system needs a little time to recover?”

  Max's face crinkled up. She wasn't buying into it. But, she had to admit, she had been burning the candle at both ends, and around the middle, and everywhere else, for her entire existence.

  “Maybe you should take a break. Go on vacation. Relax. Enjoy yourself. Come back and see me in a month and we’ll re-evaluate."

  Max arched an eyebrow at him. Had he lost his fucking mind. Relaxation? What the hell was that? She wasn't going to rest until she found the man who killed Doctor Tor. It had been her singular purpose since the tragedy happened.

  Matsuda’s face grew stern. "That's an order. Not a request. I'm prescribing rest and relaxation. And you will be compliant." His eyes blazed into her with the compassionate discipline of a father looking after his daughter’s best interest. It was easy to see Matsuda cared about his patients—Max most of all.

  Max huffed. "Fine."

  "That means no adventures. No fights. No killing anyone."

  "What if they deserve it?"

  Matsuda tried not to show his exasperation at her stubbornness. ”Try to avoid stressful situations."

  Max scoffed.

  "Escape to a resort planet. Take a star cruise. Something all-inclusive, food, drinks, activities. Who knows? In a month you may feel fully recharged."

  "In a month, I could be dead."

  The look on Matsuda's face suggested that he didn't entirely disagree with her prognosis. "Look at the bright side. If you are going to die in a month, at least you will have fun on the way out."

  Max's face twisted. She didn't like what he had to say, but she couldn't exactly argue with him either.

  4

  “How did it go?" Winston asked with a concerned look on his face. He had more compassion and empathy then any robot Max had ever known. As far as Max was concerned, Winston was family. And Winston felt the same way.

  "Everything's fine," Max said.

  Winston's voice stress analyzer detected that the statement wasn't entirely truthful. The subtle micro-expressions on Max's face gave her away, but Winston bit his tongue.

  "He suggested a little time off. A vacation. Maybe a star cruise?”

  Winston's eyes glimmered. "I'd love to go on a star cruise. I hear the Zevluvi nebula is nice. Is there anywhere in particular that you would like to visit?"

  Max shrugged. "I don't know. I feel like I've seen the galaxy a few times over. What the hell am I going to do on a cruise anyway?" Max muttered, having second thoughts about the whole thing.

  "I think a break would be good for us. I’ll research the various options, then present you with the top choices."

  Max exhaled. "Surprise me. If you leave it up to me, I'll keep putting it off."

  “Excellent. Do you have any special criteria that must be met?"

  "Well, if we’re going to do this, let's do it first class. I'm going to need plenty of alcohol, a pool, and lots of eye candy." There was a lascivious glint in Max's eye.

  "I can accommodate the first two, but I can make no guarantees about the appearance of the other passengers."

  "Just don't focus on a cruise with a bunch of blue haired old ladies.”

  "I'll see what I can do,” Winston stammered, eyeing the cobalt highlights in Max’s raven hair. “Are you sure you don't want to make the reservations?”

  Max arched a stern eyebrow at him.

  "Okay, I can do this. I'm up for the challenge."

  Max turned and headed out of the waiting room. By the time she stepped into the corridor, Winston had already booked the trip.

  "We are all set. We leave the day after tomorrow from Lyra Station.”

  Max was impressed by his efficiency.

  Winston continue
d to describe the trip, most likely reading directly from the promotional literature. "Celebrating 50 years of cosmic exploration. Star-Line Cruises offers the finest in intergalactic travel. With the luxury accommodations and world-class service, you will explore the far reaches of the galaxy in comfort and style. Discover the nuances of alien food, culture, and customs. The Celestial Voyager is the flagship of the Star-Line fleet, with all the amenities that you would expect aboard a premier cruise liner. Enjoy poolside lounging, five star cuisine, and nightly entertainment. The Celestial Voyager is equipped with a full gym and exercise area, interactive holo-deck, a traditional and virtual recreation area, movie theater, casino, multiple restaurants and bars, and a relaxing spa. Prepare for a vacation that you will never want to end."

  Max was skeptical. It sounded like promotional hype. But she had to admit, she was starting to warm up to the idea. There were worse things in the galaxy than lounging poolside and sipping piña coladas.

  “We depart from Lyra Station,” Winston said. "We have three scheduled stops at the Zevluvi Nebula, the black hole at Zeta Reticuli 7, and the ancient alien ruins of Medonti. Our final destination will be Andromeda Station. From there, we can take a commercial liner back to our point of departure or, we could schedule another cruise," Winston said, his voice full of optimism.

  “Let's see how this one works out first.”

  Winston smiled with excitement.

  "I guess I need to buy a swimsuit if I'm going to lounge by the pool." Max sighed.

  "I could change reservations and book us on a nudist cruise if you prefer not to purchase a swimsuit?"

  "I think a swimsuit will be just fine, thank you."

  Max and Winston weaved their way through the crowded corridors to the shopping district. They had been living out of hotels for the last several months. Max's aversion to commitment extended to everything, including apartments. She liked being able to pick up and go at a moment’s notice. All of her worldly possessions could fit into a small backpack. A few items of self cleaning clothing, a .45 semi-automatic pistol, an overnight kit, and an extra pair of shoes.

  Max perused the racks of string bikinis. Winston kept holding up suggestions that were barely more than a few threads of fabric. If she didn't know better, she’d have thought Winston was trying to get her into something as little as possible. But Max's sumptuous curves were lost on the robot. Still, there would likely be living breathing males on the cruise, hopefully some of which might take notice. Max picked up a white string bikini. It was simple, yet elegant and sexy. She proceeded to the fitting room.

  An attendant unlocked one of the change rooms, and Max slipped inside. She peeled out of her skintight bodysuit that was practically painted on. She put on the bikini top, covering her supple endowments. Then she slipped the bottoms on, pulling them up her tanned, toned legs, over her luscious curves. She gazed at her sumptuous form in the full-length mirror, twisting from side to side, checking the view from all angles. The white bikini stood out against her olive skin and dark hair. A slight smirk curled on her lips. She had to admit, she looked pretty damn good. It was a done deal. No need to look any further.

  She changed back into her clothes and took the suit to the checkout counter.

  “Did you find everything you were looking for?" the checkout girl asked.

  Max nodded.

  The price flashed on the register and Max's eyes nearly popped out of their sockets. 2732 credits. Max swallowed hard. The price was outrageous, even for a name-brand designer like Altoviti.

  Max shrugged. What the hell, it wasn't like she allowed herself a lot of frivolous purchases, and she wasn't going to be buying another bikini anytime soon. This was her first vacation. Ever. And it was likely going to be her last.

  She placed her hand on the biometric pay pad and the cost of the suit was debited from her account. "Do you know where I can find a nice black cocktail dress?"

  The checkout girl didn't have to think long. "Try Supernovas, or Galaxy 21. They've got a good selection and they are reasonably priced."

  "Thank you." Max wondered what her definition of reasonable was.

  The girl put the suit in a shopping bag and handed it to Max. She spun around and marched toward Winston who was holding a bag of his own. Max arched a curious eyebrow at him “Did you get something?"

  "Yes."

  "What did you get?"

  "You'll see," he said, almost gleeful of his secret purchase.

  Max rolled her eyes. She couldn't imagine what Winston would have purchased in a clothing boutique. It's not like he wore clothes.

  5

  Declan Vanderbilt’s heavily armed dropship touched down in one of the landing bays of Lyra Station. The back ramp lowered and a squad of mercenaries filed out with weapons in the firing position. They were clad in battle armor and moved with tactical precision, securing the compartment.

  When all was clear, the signal was given for Vanderbilt to exit. He strolled down the ramp, carrying a secure aluminum briefcase. A lanky assistant followed behind, overloaded with Vanderbilt’s travel baggage. Two more guards followed behind them.

  Vanderbilt wore a Valcari silk suit, hand tailored to perfection, a cotton broadcloth shirt, Nuova silk tie, and leather cap-toe shoes by Benini de Vorn. The outfit alone cost more than most people made in a year. He had short grey, almost white, hair that was well coiffed. Though he looked to be about 50, his skin was smooth and flawless, free of wrinkles. His ice blue eyes and square jaw found favor with the ladies, and his money didn’t hurt either. Vanderbilt was a man who was meticulous and held everyone around him to a high standard. Some people thought him difficult, but he was just exacting. He made people do what they said they were going to do.

  Vanderbilt strolled across the flight deck and greeted the mayor of Lyra Station, Oliver Webb. He was was waiting along with two station security officers.

  "Mr. Vanderbilt, welcome to my little oasis among the stars,” Mayor Webb said, extending his hand.

  The two shook.

  "Thank you, it's very kind of you to accommodate my needs,” Vanderbilt said.

  The mayor smiled. "Of course. We pride ourselves here on Lyra on our hospitality. I've made arrangements to block off all access corridors between here and the departure terminal. Your guards will be able to escort you to the ship, but I'm afraid beyond the last security checkpoint is subject to ISA regulations. They will not be allowed to board the Celestial Voyager with weapons."

  "I've already communicated with the Star-Line corporate offices and will be boarding before any other passenger. I think the short distance from the space-way to the vault will be safe.”

  The mayor smiled again. "I'm sure you will have no problems."

  "Thanks again,” Vanderbilt said. “You should have received the necessary funds from my assistant to compensate for the added logistical coordination provided by the station."

  "Yes. Thank you."

  "Once again, it was nice to meet you."

  The two shook hands again.

  "Safe journey," the mayor said.

  The tactical squad advanced into the corridor clearing and securing it. Vanderbilt was given the all clear and proceeded forward. They moved through the station with meticulous attention to security. If anybody wanted to get close to Vanderbilt, or his briefcase, it would have been nearly impossible. There wasn't another soul in sight during his entire journey to the departure terminal. The area had been completely locked down.

  Vanderbilt made his way to a private access point in the terminal reserved for VIP customers. The security checkpoint was manned by ISA agents in blue uniforms.

  Vanderbilt placed his hand on the scanner at the security checkpoint. A camera scanned his face and confirmed his identity. "I've pre-registered with the ISA and have premier status."

  The ISA agent looked at him, unimpressed. She said nothing.

  "I've coordinated with the Star-Line corporate office and have received permission for my security detail to br
ing weapons aboard."

  "I don't care if you got permission from God himself. ISA regulations forbid weapons beyond this security checkpoint."

  Vanderbilt forced an uncomfortable smile. "I'm traveling with some extremely valuable personal items. I'm sure we can come to some kind of arrangement?”

  The agent knew exactly what kind of arrangement he was talking about, but it didn't seem to matter. "Any arrangement that we can come to is not going to change the fact that ISA regulations prohibit weapons beyond this security checkpoint."

  Vanderbilt could quickly see that he wasn't going to get anywhere with the obstinate woman.

  Vanderbilt forced a smile again. "I understand.”

  He motioned for his tactical squad to stand down. This was all anticipated, but he figured why not try? Four guards relinquished their weapons, while another two stayed at the security checkpoint, fully armed. If anything went down between the checkpoint and the end of the space-way at least they'd have weapons handy.

  Vanderbilt and his four bodyguards passed through the full body scanners, then made their way to the airlock of the Celestial Voyager where they were greeted by the cruise director and chief security officer.

  "Welcome aboard, Mr. Vanderbilt," the cruise director said. "We're very excited to have you traveling with us today. This is our Chief Security Officer, Mitch Taylor.”

  “Pleasure to meet you, sir,” Taylor said. “Rest assured, your security is guaranteed while you are on board.” He had a proud, confident smile.

  Vanderbilt looked at him with a healthy degree of skepticism. “I’m traveling with an extremely valuable item that I would like stored in your vault."

  "No problem. I will personally see to it that it is secured," the CSO said. “If you’ll just give me the item, I will take care of it.”

  Vanderbilt’s face tensed. "Perhaps I did not make myself clear when I spoke to your corporate office. The item will not leave my sight until I see that it is safe in the vault. I was told that only the captain, first officer, and chief security officer have access. Is that correct?"