Deputy Marshal Maxine Wabash (Adventures of the League Space Patrol Book 9)

by Frank Carey

  "Working... Yes, mistress. Two class one satbots are monitoring an asteroid mining team within five minutes travel time."

  "Reroute one to Algonquin, but have it go to stealth before it comes into range of the colony ship's sensors. I want full scans of the ship and surrounding space including biosigns. Engage!"

  "Aye, mistress. Bot is on its way."

  "Computer, get on the horn with Space Patrol Command. I want to speak to General Spent priority one."

  "Aye, Marshal."

  "Milady!"

  "What, dammit!"

  "I know that creature on the screen, or at least I know of it," Greg said.

  The room went silent as everyone turned to stare at Greg. "Spill it," Red said quietly.

  "It is a simulacrum created by Dr. Hastings. That model is incapable of working independently, so it works as a subordinate to a creature of similar design known only as Cranston. Cranston is pure evil, corrupted by its hatred for all things organic."

  "What about this Hastings guy?" Captain Thorvald asked.

  "Niall, Dr. Hastings was a model for every evil mad scientist ever written about in 20th century fiction. He is a power-mad psychopath bent on world domination."

  "I'm afraid to ask, but how do you know all this?"

  "The Alliance of Six went up against him when they first formed back in 1883. Ever hear of Krakatoa? It was a result of the Alliance's battle with him in his lair deep inside the volcano."

  "Does the Alliance do anything small?" Niall asked.

  "They once saved a puppy... No, wait, that was a werewolf. No, they never do anything small."

  The comm unit chimed to announce an incoming call. "Computer, identify point of origin for incoming communication."

  "Colony Ship Algonquin."

  "Thank God. Put the call through." The comm beeped once more as the link was established. "This is Marshal Melinda McKee. Who am I speaking with?"

  The image on the screen shifted to that of a metal face. My name is Cranston... Alabaster!"

  "Hello, Cranston. Long time, no see. What's it been? Over three centuries?"

  "What witchcraft is this. You died on Krakatoa along with the rest of your pack of mutants."

  "Yet here I am, all pretty and breathing. You, on the other hand, look like you could use an overhaul."

  "Marshal! I will kill every living being aboard this ship unless you take your weapon out and use it to kill this abomination!"

  "Calm yourself, Cranston. I have a better offer. I offer myself in exchange for the passengers and crew of the Algonquin. The Space Patrol hates to destroy a ship if it means the death of many or just one. You get your revenge and the colonists get their future. I'd call that a win-win."

  The massive bot squinted at the screen. "What do we have here? Lord Gregory Alabaster doesn't have an altruistic bone in his body, yet here you are, offering your life in exchange for others, other's you have probably never met. And that uniform. Your rank is less than that of the marshal who stands behind you with eyes of fire. You, sir, are as much Gregory Alabaster as I am a grandfather clock. I must think on this. Marshal! Do not attempt to board this ship or interfere with it in any way. I have erected a scrambler field around the ship to keep people like your pet necrue out and the Logash passengers and crew in. If all goes as planned, I will be out of your hair in a few hours. No harm will come to the passengers or crew if you do not interfere with my plans. Cranston out." The screen went blank as Cranston killed the connection at his end.

  "Alabaster! What the hell..." Red started to say but stopped when Greg slowly raised his hand.

  "Max?"

  Red's head snapped around to stare at the view screen. On it was the image of Deputy Marshal Maxine Wabash. Behind her was a vast metropolis filled with people sporting glowing blue crystals in their chests.

  "Thank the gods. I'm in the Algonquin's network, but I don't know how long I can keep this connection open without risking being detected. Marshal, a gang of antique robots have taken over the Algonquin, and they're being led by someone named Cranston."

  "We know, Max. We just got done talking to him. Max, keep the hell away from them at all costs. Those bots are extensions of Cranston's consciousness. When he has one's attention, he can see through its eyes and hear through its ears," Greg said.

  "Can you leave the ship via the net?" Red asked.

  "No, ma'am, and I wouldn't even if I could. I'm inside, and I'll stay here until the passengers and crew are safe."

  "Milady, if I may?" Greg asked.

  Red nodded.

  "Max, any idea what Cranston wants?"

  "I heard him via the intercom system talking to someone about the Logash biocrystal generators. It sounded like he was using the comm, but the ship's comm system was inactive. I've been on too long. Got to go. Bye." She killed the connection.

  "Biocrystal generators. That is not good," Red noted.

  CHAPTER THREE

  The room was silent as Greg and Melinda stared at each other. Finally, Greg broke the silence. "What is a biocrystal generator?"

  Ariel walked over to the comm terminal and typed in a command. An image of a Logash appeared complete with a glowing blue crystal embedded in his sternum. Ariel tapped it. "That's a biocrystal. The Logash develop them during their gestation. They're used for a variety of things including communication and shunting. We think they draw power from another part of the multiverse. Dr. Josiah Muntz figured out how to grow them in a lab and use them to generate power."

  "Unfortunately, there was a problem with the manufacturing process," Niall continued. "Early versions of a drive powered by one of these lab-grown crystals exploded, so the project was sent back to the drawing board for further refinement."

  "How much power are we talking about?" Melinda asked.

  Niall typed a series of commands into the terminal. The view screen filled with printouts, inventories, and bills of lading. He tapped a button which caused one sheet to come to the forefront. "Three generators, 50 megawatts each."

  Red walked over to stand next to Greg. "What would Cranston need with 150 megawatts of power generation capability?"

  "Nothing. He and his minions are powered by the same devices that power the portal. Anyway, he's more of a doer than a thinker. Now, Hastings is another story. Hastings, though mad, was a genius rivaling Gregory in brilliance." Greg looked at the marshal. "We need to bring them in on this."

  "Them who?"

  "The Alliance of Six. They've dealt with Cranston and Hastings in the past. Their insights could be of value to us, milady."

  Red crossed her arms and looked at him. "Make the call. And Greg?"

  "Yes, milady."

  "Next time you volunteer for a suicide mission, clear it with me first."

  "Yes, milady."

  "Go make the call."

  "Yes, milady."

  She watched him walk out of the room on his way to the communications and portal room at the back of the building. She shook her head. "What it must have been like in Victorian England if our Mr. Alabaster is any indication."

  "Red, we met the original Lord Gregory Alabaster. He and Greg, his supposed clone, are like twin sons from totally different families," Ariel pointed out. "I like Greg. Gregory? Not so much. Hell, even Lady Penelope, Gregory's wife, has a thing for our Greg."

  "Which is why I'm worried about bringing them in on this operation. It's only been a month since they returned from the dead, and a month isn't nearly enough time for them to acclimate to our colonial ways."

  "Greg will keep them in line," Niall noted. "He's like a bridge between our future and their past."

  "Ariel, I want you and Niall up there keeping an eye on things. Greg and I will be along shortly, hopefully with the Alliance of Six in tow."

  "Roger that, Marshal," he replied.

  "Darling?" she said to Niall.

  "Yes, Dear?"

  "Keep an eye means to observe. You and Greg share at least one thing in common."

  "And
that is?"

  "You tend toward the heroic. I don't want to be a widow before the wedding."

  He saluted, then kissed her on the cheek. "Yes, Marshal. No heroics."

  They headed out the back door just as the comm signaled an incoming call from Space Patrol Command.

  ###

  Max dropped out of the Algonquin's network and into a darkened storeroom filled with plastic shipping crates. She crouched down behind a large one marked "Nutribars" and waited to see if anyone noticed her arrival. After what seemed like an eternity, she got up and headed to the door only to stop when she heard someone open it from the outside. She jumped behind another crate and watched as a robot manhandled Judith into the room before shutting and locking the door behind her.

  "Judith?" Max whispered.

  The Logash purser spun around with her fists raised in a defensive pose. "Who's that?" she hissed.

  Max slowly revealed herself. "It's me, Max. Did they hurt you, Judith?"

  She shook her head. "Naw, they're just not real dainty. How the hell did you...? Oh, right, you're an Alue. I forgot you can enter the ship's network. Thank the gods, we thought they killed you when your ship exploded. What the hell do they want, anyway?"

  "Your biocrystal generators. I heard their leader, Cranston, talking to someone over a radio. How many people do you have ambulatory and in stasis?" Max looked around until she found the clipboard holding the room's inventory.

  "Ten crew including myself, and five-hundred colonists in stasis. The bots moved us into separate rooms so that we couldn't plan an escape."

  "Something about those bots bothers me," Max said as she pulled a box off a shelf and opened it. "Here we go,"

  "A network analyzer? What the plark do you need that for? The ship's net is fine."

  "It's not the net that concerns me..." She trailed off as she programmed the device. "Now, ain't that interesting?"

  "What?" Judith asked while moving to where she could see the screen. "Is that a second network?"

  'Yeah, lower bandwidth, unknown protocol, but definitely a second network. I bet those robots are taking orders over this second network. If I can get my hands on one of them, I might be able build a network disrupter. That should slow them down, or maybe even disrupt them completely."

  "You want to take one of these bots apart?" Judith asked while her chest crystal slowly pulsed.

  "Yep. If we can shut down the bot net, we can free the crew and get them to the stasis module. Once you're all safely inside, I can eject it, then go take care of this Cranston person."

  "Why eject the stasis module?"

  "So that you aren't hostages. Once the situation is resolved, we can put the Algonquin back together and send you on your away."

  "You will get killed. You know that, don't you?"

  "I'm tougher than I look. All I care about is your safety and the safety of the rest of the crew and passengers of the Algonquin. The rest is just details."

  Judith stared at her. "My parents are members of the Logash family unit Harmon Aymar found in one of the Cube's Tombs. They told me what happened when the Alue attacked the home world."

  Max looked at her. "Such a small universe we live in. My parents mated in Harm's ship's network while it was parked in Chile on Earth. My siblings and I were the first Alue born without having to conquer a damn civilization. My mother, her name is Ruby, met Agendor and Rutile."

  "You are a daughter of Caleb and Ruby? My parents are Agendor and Rutile!" She walked over and hugged the deputy. "It's like we're cousins or something."

  "Yeah, I guess we are. Now, will you help me snag a bot so that I can get a look-see inside?"

  "You got that, cuz! Let's get moving. First stop, though, is the armory."

  They walked over to the door, then looked outside before leaving the storeroom and heading to the weapons locker.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Greg shut down the comm system then sat back and waited for a response from London to his message. Around him were the typical trappings of a Space Patrol communications room--computer terminals, transceiver equipment, and bookshelves filled with reference books. Greg smiled at the last one. No matter how advanced a technology got, its users always fell back on the written word just in case the tech failed them.

  One item in the room, though, was out of place. A burnished metal ring about eight-feet in diameter stood isolated off to the side of room with only a single control console as a companion. A product of the 19th century, the portal generator facilitated point-to-point transport to anywhere in the known universe. The distance between two rings could be ten-feet or ten-million-light-years, if you had two rings, you could move between them in the blink of an eye. Greg knew all this because his original, Lord Gregory Alabaster, had invented them on a faraway, but now-dead, planet before coming here in the late 19th century.

  A chime from the console signaled an incoming portal. The open space inside the ring flashed white, then showed the interior of another room. Greg recognized it as the portal room deep inside the Alabaster residence in London, England, Earth. He was born there over three centuries ago, yet only saw it once when he was accidentally released by some curious teenagers.

  As he watched, eight people stepped though into the communications room. First was Leona, a bipedal lioness with a pair of katana blades strapped across her back. Next followed Tressa, a human from the waist up, while a serpent from the waist down. Across her back was strapped an intricately-engraved antique long-gun. Behind her was Angus, all seven feet of pure muscle with hooves for feet and vestigial horns emerging from his massive skull. Angus carried no weapons since he was a weapon himself. Following Angus was Douglas Shade wearing black clothes covered with a black duster while his face was hidden by the brim of a pure black hat. Only his red glowing eyes broke the blackness of his form. Next through the portal was Bayou, an amphibian man who was the master of any game of chance. Some say he cast a spell on Lady Luck herself, a spell which persuaded her to do his bidding.

  A tall, being made of metal like that of the ring, stepped into the room. He was Rex, Leona's friend and the moral center of the people assembled around them.

  The last two people through the portal were Lady Penelope Alabaster and her husband, and Greg's original, Lord Gregory Alabaster. Lady Penelope is the daughter of one of the Olympian immortals which makes her a demigoddess. Her husband, Lord Gregory, is the leader of the group. A tall, pale man, like Greg, Gregory has translucent skin and colorless blood. Though Greg and the other organic members of the group read human on DNA scans, only Penelope was born on Earth. The rest are all that remain of the population of a far-off star system destroyed during a war 300 years ago.

  Greg stood up and walked over to Leona, took her hand and kissed the back of it. "Welcome back milady," He said. She returned a small bow. He repeated the gesture with Tressa and Penelope, then shook hands with the men. When he came to Gregory, he stopped and stared at him. "Lord Alabaster, how does a clone greet its original?"

  Gregory held out his hand. "A simple handshake should do," he said. The two grasped hands and shook them. "So, Cranston lives. And I thought our lives here in the future would be boring."

  "Yes, I spoke to him a short time ago. He suspects I am not you, so he is unsure whether the rest of you exist or not. His fear of the Alliance of Six was palpable."

  "We are now the Alliance of Eight," Rex said. "Gregory and the five voted to include Penelope and me as members."

  "Fitting," Greg said. "My memories show that the addition is long overdue." He stopped and rubbed his cheek. "My lord, A small suggestion before we continue."

  "Yes?"

  "I'm not sure how much of a briefing the Lady has given you about the times you are now living in. I on the other hand, have lived in this century for over eight years, so I have had time to acclimate to the current situation with regards to gender roles..."

  "He knows," Penelope said as she stifled a giggle. "They all know, don't you?"

&nbs
p; They all nodded. "Men, women, and the other genders and orientations lead. It's not just a game for gentlemen anymore," Tressa explained.

  "About damn time," Leona added.

  Greg smiled. "Then I have nothing to worry about." He pressed a button on the comm console. "Franny?"

  "Yes, Greg?"

  "The Alliance of Eight has arrived. Could you take them to the main meeting room and inform the Marshal of their arrival?"

  "I thought there were only six of them."

  "Recruitment drive."

  "Right. I'll be right up."

  "Franny?" Rex asked.

  "Our office manager. If it needs done, then you need to talk to Franny."

  There was a knock on the door followed by Franny sliding into the room. "Follow me," she said while giving the group a come-hither wave of her tentacle. Shade walked up to her, reached into his pocket, and withdrew a nutribar which he handed to the office manager.

  "I like this one," she said as she took the proffered item. "Sir, you truly know how to treat a lady. Greg noticed that Penelope had hung back as the others left with Franny. He walked over to the control console and pressed a button. "Wilson, portal is clear. All eight personnel accounted for. Maeve out." He tapped a control and the portal deactivated. He turned to Lady Penelope. "Yes, milady?"

  With hands clasped behind her back and a playful note to her step, she walked up to her husband's clone. "Tell me about you and Maxine."

  He frowned. "Milady?"

  "You. Maxine. You know...?"

  "Milady! Deputy Wabash and I are friends, coworkers, and members of the Space Patrol. There is no you know!"

  "Really? I was listening in to your call to Gregory. You may not know it, but there is definitely a you know... Yet a woman knows, you know."

  "I know that my mind is turning to mush as I try to follow your train of thought. We need to join the others. People's lives are in peril and the only thing standing between Cranston and the colonists is Max."

  Penelope nodded. "Men!" she whispered as Greg took her arm and escorted her out of the room.

  CHAPTER FIVE