Edge of the Abyss: A Space Opera Novella (Max Mars Book 4)

by Tripp Ellis

  Max didn't have an answer for that. “So, you want me to believe that someone planted this device in your quarters?”

  “Well, I didn't put it there."

  The CIC was silent as Max contemplated the evidence, or lack there of.

  “Winston, why don’t you return to the lab, see if you can make some headway with a possible anti-virus for the pathogen?”

  "I'm not sure I’m comfortable leaving you alone with the suspect.”

  "Oh, for chrissake, I’m not a suspect!”

  “We'll be the judge of that," Winston said, attempting to sound like a detective.

  Dobson rolled his eyes.

  “I’ll be fine, Winston,” Max assured.

  “As you wish.” Winston gave Dobson the evil eye as he reluctantly strolled out of the CIC. If Winston had a tongue, he probably would have stuck it out at the man.

  Max and Dobson eyed each other curiously. Max felt a sneeze building. She brought her hand to her nose as mucus erupted like a geyser. She felt the sticky, warm slime on her palm. As her eyes glanced down to her hand, she saw it was covered in blood.

  Dobson's eyes were wide. His face was pale as a ghost. "You're infected. That means the pathogen must be airborne. That means we’re both infected,” he stammered.

  Max wiped the crimson goo on her pant’s leg.

  “How long have you been exhibiting symptoms?” Dobson asked.

  “An hour. Maybe longer.”

  “And you didn’t say anything?" Dobson looked astonished.

  “I didn’t think it was a big deal.”

  “Oh, sure. One of the most deadly viruses ever created is airborne. Not a big deal."

  “I thought I was just feeling a little under the weather.”

  “This is just great,” Dobson said, his voice thick with sarcasm. He shook his head and marched out of the CIC.

  “Where are you going?”

  “What does it matter? Were both going to be dead before long. I'm going to go have another drink. If you want to arrest me and throw me in the brig, be my guest.”

  Max didn’t know what to think. She left the CIC and ducked into the nearest head. She washed her hands and splashed water on her face. She took a long, hard look in the mirror. Her normally vibrant eyes were dull. More gray than blue at the moment. Her skin was red and puffy. She was still stunning, but certainly not at her best.

  It was time to get out of the EVA suit. With the suit’s system shorted out it wasn't going to do her any good in the future. She strolled out of the head and made her way through the maze of corridors to the ship’s store. It was a duty-free shop where you could purchase just about anything—clothing, shoes, snacks, souvenirs to send to loved ones. Max sifted through the racks, looking for something more comfortable to slip into. Max found a sleek, tactical bodysuit in her size. It was made out of Zyrol™, a highly resilient stretch fabric that was used in special ops uniforms. Max stripped out of the EVA suit in the middle of the store. She didn't bother to find a change room, she figured no one was watching, and she really didn't care anyway. It felt good to get out of the heavier, restrictive pressure suit. As light as it was, it was still more cumbersome than she preferred. She grabbed the fitted black garment from the rack and shimmied into it. She found a nearby mirror and admired her form, turning from side to side. The outfit met with her approval, though now wasn't the time to be picky.

  She strolled through the store, grabbing a tactical vest, looking for a pair of boots. She found some Command Tech™ boots that she liked and slipped them on. They sized to fit perfectly. She paced back-and-forth for a moment, making sure they felt comfortable.

  Yep.

  These were going to have to do.

  She grabbed a baseball cap from the rack that was embroidered with the USS Aurora and its logo. Why not have a little keepsake, just in case she made it out alive? She put it on backwards, then grabbed a bottle of water from the cooler near the register. She twisted off the top and guzzled the cool liquid down. She was still feeling flushed and woozy. She held the cold bottle against her forehead for a moment. It felt good. She rolled the bottle against her cheeks, enjoying a momentary relief from the fever.

  Max strolled out of the store, weaved her way down the corridors, and found a weapons locker. She wasn't sure where she had left her plasma rifle before she departed on her ill-fated EVA walk to repair the hull. She grabbed an RK 1616 from the locker. It was a tried and true plasma rifle that had been in service for years. They almost never jammed or malfunctioned. The grunts loved them. Max grabbed a few extra magazines and slipped them into pouches on her tactical vest. She wouldn't feel right without the addition of a few thermal grenades as well. She thought it was probably overkill. The only person she had to worry about aboard the ship was Dobson, and she could handle him with her bare hands, but she always felt much better armed.

  The ship creaked and groaned again.

  The hairs on the back of Max’s neck stood tall. She craned her neck around, scanning the corridor in all directions.

  There was no one else there.

  Max had just gotten a creepy vibe for a moment. Understandable, given the situation. It was a big ship, with a lot of strange noises, in a very weird part of the galaxy. Not to mention the fact that she was probably dying, and hallucinations wouldn't be unusual in such a fevered state.

  The impending loss of her physical and mental faculties was weighing heavy on her mind. How much longer was she going to be able to maintain her mobility? How long before her mental clarity would vanish? Max could only imagine the full magnitude of the virus. But she did not want to spend the last moments of her life brain-dead in a coma, gasping for breath, bleeding from every orifice. She'd much rather take a plasma bolt to the head before it came to that.

  Max wasn't far from Quasars when she heard some commotion down the corridor. She moved toward the source of the sound. Her eyes went wide as she entered the bar. Dobson’s body lay on the deck in a pool of blood.

  18

  It was too soon for the virus to have taken hold. Dobson wasn't showing any signs of acute infection 15 minutes ago, now he was face down in a pool of his own blood.

  Max scanned the compartment with the barrel of her rifle—the bar was empty. She glanced down the corridor in both directions—there was no sign of anyone in the immediate vicinity.

  Max crept toward the body. As she drew closer, she could see a small tactical knife protruding Dobson’s neck. It had expertly severed his carotid artery, spilling 8 pints of blood onto the deck in a matter of moments.

  The angle of the blade was such that Dobson could have stabbed himself. It didn't seem likely, but considering the alternative, Max couldn't blame the Lieutenant if he chose to take his own life. But there were much better ways to do it. This couldn't have been pleasant. An overdose on some high-powered pain meds would have made for an easy departure—a gentle drifting away into nothingness. But stabbing yourself in the neck with a tactical knife—no. It just didn't make sense.

  Max informed Winston and he met her in the bar.

  “Someone else is aboard this ship.”

  "I'm inclined to agree,” Winston said. “Do you want me to analyze the knife for fingerprints?"

  Max nodded.

  Winston stepped closer to the body. He was able to get a microscopic view of the blade with his enhanced optics. He saw a usable fingerprint on the blade and scanned it. Since Dobson had granted him access, Winston was able to wirelessly interact with the ship’s computer. He checked the fingerprint against the personnel database. Within a few moments, there was a positive match—and it wasn't Dobson’s.

  “Any luck?”

  “I have a positive print match with Commander Noah Erickson. He is the chief science officer aboard the ship. I believe he is our killer."

  Max took in the crime scene, trying to re-create the event in her mind. “Why would Erickson bother to kill a man who was going to die?”

  “It doesn’t seem logical.”
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  "I say we find this Commander Erickson and have a little chat." Max pushed into the hallway.

  The instant she did, a flurry of plasma bolts streaked in her direction.

  Max ducked for cover as the bolts impacted the bulkhead, showering brilliant sparks. Smoke wafted from the impact crater, and the charred smell filled her nostrils. Her heart pounded, and a surge of adrenaline rushed through her body.

  She angled the barrel of her plasma rifle around the corner and returned fire. The glowing blue beams illuminated the dark hallway. They erupted at the end of the corridor, narrowly missing the shadowy figure.

  Max yelled down the hallway, "Commander Erickson, how about you put down the weapon and we talk about this like reasonable adults?”

  He fired two shots back.

  “I’ll take that as a no,” Max muttered to herself. She blasted several more shots down the corridor, then advanced several steps. She back-flatted the bulkhead, taking cover in a nook.

  More blistering bolts streaked past her.

  Max tapped her earbud. “Winston, move to the port side and try to flank him. I’m going to push him in that direction.”

  “What exactly am I supposed to do?” The robot was taking cover in the bar. “This isn’t really my strong suit.”

  “I’m sure you’ll think of something.” Max fired a few more rounds down the hallway and pushed forward.

  Max and Commander Erickson volleyed shots back and forth. Max kept pushing forward every chance she got.

  She ducked behind a support brace and angled her weapon around the pilaster. She lined her sights up with the barrel-jacket of Erickson’s rifle as it protruded from behind the corner. Max squeezed the trigger, and the incendiary round rocketed down the corridor. It slammed into Erickson's rifle, shredding it. Thousands of pieces of blistering hot shrapnel sprayed in all directions.

  Erickson dropped the weapon, and it clattered to the deck. He screamed out in agony, no doubt peppered with smoldering debris.

  Max advanced cautiously. She couldn't be sure that the rifle was his only weapon.

  She heard the clatter of his footsteps against the deck as he retreated. Max ran to the end of the hallway, keeping her weapon in the firing position. She whipped the barrel around the corner to see Erickson running away, disappearing down a side corridor.

  Max chased after him.

  Erickson wasn't going to get very far. Even in her weakened condition she had a speed advantage.

  Erickson gasped for breath as he sprinted down the passageway. His chest heaved for breath, his quads on fire as the lactic acid in his muscles burned. His hands, forearms, chest, and face were riddled with small wounds. None of them were life-threatening, but they had to sting like hell. The sizzling metal had cauterized the wounds, so there was very little blood. The skin was charred, and wisps of smoke still wafted from the sizzling flesh.

  Erickson kept running.

  Winston sprang from a nook, stepping into the corridor in front of Erickson. He stretched his arm out, clotheslining the commander. Winston’s composite arm caught Erickson in the throat, knocking him flat on his back.

  Erickson clutched his trachea as he tried to suck in a breath of air.

  Before he could do anything, Max was hovering over him, her weapon aimed at Erickson’s skull.

  "I'm sorry," Winston said. "I didn't see you. He glanced to Max and winked. He technically wasn't allowed to harm another human being, but perhaps this was an innocent accident?

  Max snarled at Erickson. "Seems like you've got a lot of explaining to do."

  Max forced Erickson to his feet and marched him to the detention center. She shoved him into a holding cell and activated the force-shield. A translucent red beam sealed the small cell.

  "You want to tell me what's going on here?" Max asked.

  "I demand medical attention."

  "Start talking, and I’ll think about it."

  "I have rights."

  Max laughed. "No you don't. The only thing you have is the opportunity to tell me the truth. If you choose not to do that, I'm going to make your life very difficult. And I excel at making life difficult for people."

  19

  "I'm not telling you a goddamn thing," Erickson said.

  Max clenched her jaw. She handed her rifle to Winston. "Hold this."

  The robot took the rifle, but he looked uncomfortable, not sure as to what to do with it. Max pressed a button on the bulkhead and deactivated the force-shield.

  Erickson had a smug look on his face as she stepped into the holding cell. "Is this the part where you rough me up and try to intimidate me?"

  Max grinned. She slammed her fist into his belly. He groaned and doubled over with pain. She hammered her elbow into the back of his neck, dropping him to the deck. She grabbed his arm and twisted it behind his back. She bent his wrist at an unnatural angle.

  Erickson wailed with pain.

  "Why did you infect Takagi?”

  Erickson didn't say anything.

  Max applied more pressure to his wrist. It crackled and popped, on the verge of snapping.

  "Alright, alright. I’ll tell you what you want to know, but its not going to make any difference. There is nothing you can do to stop what is in motion.”

  Max wrenched Erickson’s wrist again for good measure. He groaned with pain.

  “Why would you unleash the virus?” Max asked.

  “Because I knew the crew would abandon ship at the first sign of an infected sailor.”

  Max’s eyes narrowed as she tried to piece the puzzle together. “But that’s suicide?”

  “I infected Takagi with a strain of the virus that wasn’t airborne. The rest of the crew wasn’t really at risk.”

  “I’ve got news for you,” Max growled. “It mutated. We’re both infected now.”

  “Not me,” he chuckled. “I immunized myself before I infected Takagi. I’m not stupid.”

  “Is there an anti-virus?”

  “No. Not possible. You must be immunized before infection takes place.”

  “Why wasn’t the crew immunized?”

  “The virus adapts to each individual's DNA. That's the beauty of it. Each infection is different. I was able to make a vaccine based on my own genetic profile. It wouldn't be feasible to make a mass-market vaccine that would be effective for an entire population.” Erickson seemed pleased with himself.

  "I don't understand. Why go to all this trouble in order to devastate the Aurora."

  Erickson chuckled again. "I didn't go to all this trouble just to devastate the Aurora. I intend to devastate the Federation."

  Max's eyes narrowed at the dirt bag. She gritted her teeth. “Why?”

  “Well, it's going to make me a very rich man. There are those that would pay a handsome price for such a weapon. And for too long the Federation has dominated the galaxy, spreading their imperialist ideals like a cancer.”

  Max decided to break his wrist for good measure. It crackled, snapping like a carrot stick. Erickson screeched with pain. His face flushed red, and his eyes brimmed with tears. Max had no love for terrorists.

  “Did it ever dawn on you that you’re not going be able to spend any of that money with the Federation in ruin? Who are you selling the virus to?”

  Erickson said nothing.

  Talbot's voice crackled in Max's earbud. “Lone Wolf, this is Almighty, do you copy?” His voice was distorted. It warbled and dropped in and out due to the interference from the nebula. “Lone Wolf, this is Almighty, do you copy?”

  “Go ahead, Almighty."

  "We have detected an unidentified vessel that has emerged from slide-space just outside of the nebula.”

  Max grimaced. She knew they weren’t going to be friendly visitors. Probably the terrorists Erickson had sold the virus to. They were coming to collect their bounty.

  “My rescue team is still several hours out from your location. I checked your background since we last spoke, and I'm fully aware of your service accompli
shments. I'm going to read you in on Project Morbus.”

  “That would have been helpful a few hours ago,” Max said.

  “Just following procedure, Commander.”

  “I think I figured out most of the details of your illegal bio-weapons operation. It's unfortunate that the head of your program is working with the insurgents."

  “Erickson?”

  “Bingo.”

  “Goddamnit. That son-of-a-bitch!” Talbot grumbled for a moment. Then he pulled himself together. “It is imperative that you destroy all traces of Project Morbus.”

  “So, you want me to cover up your mistake?”

  “Would you rather the virus fall into the hands of the enemy?”

  “No, sir.”

  “You’ve only got a few minutes. The vessel will attempt to board you.”

  “Roger that,” Max said.

  “You cannot allow that virus to escape the ship. Do you copy?”

  “That's a solid copy, sir.”

  “Advise of status update once Morbus has been destroyed. Almighty out.”

  “Winston, get to the lab and start destroying everything.”

  “What about the data files?”

  “Everything. We don't want anyone re-creating Erickson's work."

  “But our only hope of creating an anti-virus may lie within those data files.”

  Max's face tensed. It was a tough decision to make. “Just do it."

  Winston nodded. He handed Max her plasma rifle, then sprinted out of the detention center.

  Erickson was still face down on the deck. Max put a boot into his rib cage, kicking him as hard as she could. She heard his ribs crack. Erickson took in a pained breath.

  “Who is coming to get the pathogen?” Max asked.

  20

  A horrid metallic clatter rumbled through the Aurora.

  It got Max's attention. Her gaze snapped in the direction of the sound. "Looks like your friends are here,” she muttered to Erickson.