Lethal Max

By James Matt Cox

It's a royal wedding to lift the heaviest of hearts! When newlyweds Micah and Jenn Stone depart on their honeymoon cruise it is with expectation of many wonderful surprises and delicious desserts. They find those and more! To their great delight, the League-famous stars of the Lethal Max movie series are traveling with them: Arn Ironhand ('Lethal' Max Mayhem himself), Melinda Willis (Trixie Slick, Max's hard-fighting sidekick) and Johan Klaus von Dike (The Nefarious Doctor Vortex, Max's arch-foe). Also aboard are their favorite musical stars: Danny Charles, Jon Treyston and Charlie Stringer. All of them are bound for a goodwill tour of the Semid Federation.

Disaster strikes just before they land on the luxury resort world of Kathros. Their ship is hijacked and all her passengers taken hostage! Micah has little more than his wits and what he can improvise in order to inform his friends of his plight and, somehow, effect a rescue. Worse, in order to save Jenn he must push her away and show the part of him she has never seen before. Micah must face a madman bent on revenge and even if he and Jenn survive, what comes afterward may well shatter them both!

• Language: English
• Publisher: James Matt Cox
• Release date: May 30, 2015
• ISBN: 9781311795625

James Matt Cox

James Matthew Cox Jr. was born in Texarkana Arkansas and he lives there today. His parents encouraged him to read and to enjoy it at a very early age. His father made certain he gained an appreciation for science fiction. His childhood heroes had names like Asimov, Bradbury and E. E. Smith. After graduating high school he earned a Bachelor's degree in computer science and a Master's degree in mathematics. He worked 25+ years as a math/CSCI instructor and recently added 'Open-Source Java Developer' to his resume. During all those years he continued to enjoy science fiction, both reading and writing, and finally decided to DO something about it.

Book preview

Lethal Max

by James Matt Cox

The story presented here is fiction.

Any similarity to any person, group or entity living, dead or virtual is purely coincidental.

Copyright 2015 by James M. Cox, Jr.

Smashwords Edition

Cover Art by: www.viladesign.net

Version Code: 201011

Smashwords Edition License Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to your favorite ebook retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

Books by James Matt Cox

A Pattern of Details

The Dungeon Crawl Unlimited fantasy RPG system

Open Source Tools for Independent Authors

Vortex Portal

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The Children of Wisdom

The Dawn of Wisdom; Beyond Wisdom; Flashes of Wisdom

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Books in the Stone Blade series:

Stone Blade; Double Bait

The Radical Factor; The Burning Crown

Expedient Measures; Lethal Max

The Border Incident; The Blatant Prey

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The Moons of Epigaea

Sage's Moon; Reaper's Moon; Hallow's Moon; Planter's Moon

This book is dedicated to Alton and Kristi Pettigrew

My best friend for lo, these many years,

and his lovely wife and perfect soulmate.

Happy tenth anniversary with many more to follow!

- - - - -

Congress shall make no law respecting an establishment of religion, or prohibiting the free exercise thereof; or abridging the freedom of speech, or of the press; or the right of the people peaceably to assemble, and to petition the Government for a redress of grievances.

-The First Amendment to the

Constitution of the United States of America

Chapter 1. Distant Ripples

Commander Ron Jameson drummed his fingers absently as he checked the readout.

Re-scan the area, Guns.

Aye, Skipper.

The League Patrol cutter CP112507, known to her crew as Baby Betsy, sat in space well above the ecliptic plane of the Tinnaval system. Some jolly-bag of duffage outside the League pulled a huge number of Patrol ships away from the Windy sector and into Sanamaki. That left Jameson and his crew to stretch themselves far too thin. Nor were they alone. The few Patrol vessels left had ample work with little downtime.

Several of Jameson's friends, now promoted well past shipboard duty, told him of some grave plot involving Erin's. He himself knew the stories the news broadcasts carried along with the more-classified details that didn't explain a lot more. He and the Betsy gray-lined active links delivering crates of stunners to strategic planets within their patrol region and outside of it. The Patrol reports did mention Erin's super-guards and how to deal with them. Using those selfsame stunners. Fortunately nothing happened. All the Erin's locations basically dried up and vanished over a few weeks' time. Rumor linked that business to corruption in the elections over in Grakis Major.

Before that came a very stealth-orbit assignment to the Starcrown sector. Jameson regretted missing that one. He had friends there and one of his crew, Sorley Keef Garbhan, claimed distant Noble kindred. The rest of the crew laughed until their first furlough on Faircoast. Now they all looked for an excuse to stop there.

Rumors of that redistribution of force hinted at some hidden Consortium presence just outside League borders, an unregistered colony and some conspiracy to sabotage the League military forces. The flag officers in Force Deployment didn't give them any information on that but Jameson had his sources. Four sigmas likely ForceDep didn't know either. Jameson's most reliable contact gave a few very under-the-garble details all of which pointed to Intelligence and an operation within the League itself. He knew he'd get squelch from them. Intel scroties would bite off their tongues before speaking to a lowly Patrol duffer.

Burn 'em all anyway, thought Jameson, he and his crew would take up the slack, cover all their assets, clean up the messes and not complain one milli about doing it.

We got squelch, Skipper, said Petty Officer Bill 'Guns' Morrison. The strongest echo barely broke resolution error.

Jameson pondered this. Morrison originally enlisted in the Navy on the promise of comm and scanner specialist but ended up in gunnery school. He had the talent, no doubt there, but also an insatiable drive to burn into systems to which he shouldn't have access. After a mediocre training cruise marked with an acid and acerbic attitude on his part Morrison found himself facing a review board and out of the Navy. An astute Patrol recruiter had no problem landing Morrison in scan spec and neither he nor the Patrol regretted that in the least.

So what's your read? asked Jameson.

Morrison tipped back his cap and scratched his head.

Nothing past the first big spray, Skipper, said Morrison, but I'd bet my floppers there's something there. You saw the scans, bet me different.

I'm sold, Guns, said Morrison. I just don't want to be the only one shopping. That spray looked for all the hydrogen in a hypermass like an intermittent distress beacon. The subsequent noise might have been EmEv pods or random static. Those pods should have transponders and we don't have any signal on them.

But they don't always work. Especially when some port-to-payment free trader shaves the sides on maintenance.

No blather there, said Jameson. Jade?

No LINC activity, Skipper, said signal-communication specialist Ellen Jaden. Nothing in the raw or on the relay. For what it's worth my metal's on your gut. Jaden hooked her head at Morrison. And his floppers. We're just past light-lag on the initial event and I got some garble and static that might have been signal. Then, before Jameson could ask, both correlate to Gunny's plot.

That made Jameson's decision.

Helm, plot us a course. Distress location protocol.

Aye, sir.

Jameson suppressed a chuckle. That the methodical and meticulous Krasna Fredricks, senior Helm, took less than two minutes to complete her task meant she started working on it at Morrison's first report.

***

That is a dangerous cargo you desire, my friend, said the robed man.

Can that not be said of any tool, makhaj, replied the sharp man.

Surprised at the correctness of the title, the man smiled as he nodded a curt bow. It can, able merchant, but the loss of these tools will certainly be noticed.

The sharp man slid a small case across the table. The Makhaj opened it and smiled at the small cubes and larger bars gleaming within it.

I trust, makhaj, that their loss will not be noticed until we are far away. If at all.

The Makhaj smiled again. A part of our price, able merchant. I trust these tools will not be used close by.

The sharp man returned the smile. "A part of our payment, makhaj. Did you know our intent for these tools you might well lower your price. You and all your tents would... approve. But such plans are best known only to the fewest."

A wise rule in any trade, able merchant.

The Makhaj rose and bowed. The sharp man rose and returned it properly.

The sharp man finally relaxed after a short ride to a medium-small, lumpy ship berthed in the cheap part of the starport. Before long a cargo hover arrived and dull-robed men and women began offloading boxes and transferring them to the ship's hold carefully.

I don't like it, boss, said a man at the bottom of the boarding ramp. Those stapes all have their faces covered. Only people with something to hide do that.

Boss offered a sharp half-smile. Not to worry, Joseph. It is not their faces they hide but their shame.

Truth for blather, I still don't like it. He followed Boss up the ramp. What about the nu...

Ahem. Boss cleared his throat quickly. Caution, Joseph. The quality of our merchandise is assured. He extracted a small, elegant datacaster from the folds of his cloak. I recorded the entire transaction from the first bow until the last. I shall make ample copies. If our friend tries to cross us I shall make certain he pays dearly. I shall also verify the proper function once we are away from here.

Better soon than late, boss. These stapes still nerve me out.

***

I have a solid contact, Skipper. Logged and locked. Morrison squirted data to Fredericks.

Vectoring slowly, she said.

Intermittent signal, said Jaden. Correlating to Gunny again. Looks like we got one Skipper. She concentrated hard on her readout. I'm sixty-eight on an emergency transponder but the signal's weak and static's a stone bastard. You want it on loud?

Negative, said Jameson. Transmit acknowledge and try to raise them.

After a suspenseful forty-five minutes they had the source of the signal pinpointed.

Lifeboat, sir. Looks like a standard EmEv. No response to hails. Jade's or mine.

Jamison stabbed a button. Kelley, get your team wet. We have a lifeboat with no activity.

Aye, Skipper. Oscar Kelley, the grizzled search, extraction and rescue team leader, motioned three of his team to button up. Less than thirty seconds later they all floated in an equipment-filled bay open to space.

Tighten up, Roberts, said Kelley. We're doing the rescuing, not being rescued! You lose your grip and you'll be drinkin' hot engine plasma for chog.

Roberts shifted his position but said nothing. Everyone aboard knew Kelley had Roberts chosen as a future SEAR team leader and he intended to hammer every gram of expertise he had into his bones.

Jameson kept a full-wide data feed from the bridge open while they maneuvered which earned Kelley's approval every time. SEAR work was brutal under the best conditions and data-stingy commanders only made things worse. Kelley knew Jameson hadn't logged a single hour outside a ship on a SEAR mission, at least not past his training, but he always acted and reacted like he certed in it just before he got his bars.

Strong searchlights blossomed and tracked until they centered on a small capsule drifting almost parallel to the Betsy's vector. Kelley made a mental note to buy Fredericks a slosh. Again. Then he thought wryly that this rescue might well end up with him owing her a full meal.

The EmEv had a slow, two-axis spin. They usually did and it always complicated things. Kelley looked at his high-res 'caster feed and estimated his window. As usual it differed from the AI's only slightly but he refused to trust his life or those of his team to an inanimate piece of hardware. He saw Roberts doing likewise and smiled to himself.

Take the shot, Roberts, said Kelley, readying his own grapple. Now.

Two grapples shot out in near-unison and both struck unholy close to the centers of rotation. Ruddy good. Since Roberts took the shot he applied slight tension to his line while Kelley left his own slack just in case Roberts duffed it.

Bradley, Nelson, go, ordered Kelley.

The two sailors soft-hooked to Kelley's line and grabbed tow cables. Before long they had four high-tensile lines tying the ships together with two of them hooked solid enough to still the rotation should that become necessary. Kelley checked the time. They still had three minutes of window to spare.

Righteous hook, skipper, said Kelley. Go neutral and we'll have her cracked in a milli.

Jameson nodded and Fredericks locked her console to Kelley's control.

Contacts, skipper, said Morrison urgently. At least two more. They're scattered wide but following roughly the same vector.

Try contact, Jade. Log and lock, Guns.

Aye, sir. Aye, skipper.

The bridge crew worked through the steps like a well-maintained hover. Not needing to give orders, Jameson slirped Guns' data and began working vectors back to a potential origin point. Though not his duty, his crew would alert him of anything requiring his attention, the time they saved doing this now just might save lives later.

The comm crackled open to Kelley's voice. Empty nest, Skipper. Looks like she launched on auto. No chemicals, radiation or obvious biologicals. No bodies either, warm or cold.

Suck and chuck, Kelley. We have two more targets.

Aye, sir, said Kelley. Then, apparently not realizing he left his comm open, you heard the man you lazy stapes. Roberts, you have five seconds to pull that core or you're walking home.

Jameson exchanged wry glances with Morrison and Jaden. Fredericks' shoulders shook as she suppressed a chuckle.

Evac recovery protocol, Jaden, said Jameson. Prepare a LINC squirt but do not send until we know those pods didn't just short out and launch.

Aye, skipper, said Jaden. So much, she thought, for a short shift. This day just turned ten times longer. More so if they actually had to use their LINC squirter. The last time that happened the gravity pads still had residual power and the Betsy blew half her power net. Thankfully it happened during a drill so they had another ship standing by.

After a dozen reviews, official and otherwise, LECom cleared Jameson of all charges and tried to transfer him. He refused, as always, and after another less-than-official meeting that might have spawned legends the damping interval for EL-squirters grew by an extra hour.

We're clear, skipper, said Kelley, releasing the helm back to Fredericks.

Aye, Mister Kelley. Stand down but stand ready. Closest target...

Fredericks locked in the course.

... Miss Frederics, ended Jameson weakly.

***

For truth? This can't be right.

Captain Rob Ervan, retired Navy and current skipper of the starliner Shimmersilk, verified the orders.

That's another three days here. Burnit, Fred, we're already fifteen crew down and they want to pull this out of orbit on us? Send for verification, please. Active alternate crypcert.

Already done, Captain. Fred Osaki, Ervan's Executive Officer, stood as calm as Ervan was upset. It should arrive before our new departure time. It also gives us another three days to find more crew.

That's not a lot of time Fred. And it's too much time. Have you informed the passengers?

Yes sir. Most of them took it well and I'm guessing the ones who didn't probably know what it smells like here.

Ervan grimaced at that. More so that Osaki spoke truly. This planet smelled bad.

What about the Bapoto?

Good news there, sir. The locals decided to deploy the golden ramp and he's excited about it. I guess the stink doesn't bother him.

Ervan did some quick calculations. Whatever Big Noises wanted this diversion had ample credits to pay for it and did so willingly. Moreover Interstellar Infinity, which company owned the Shimmersilk, could certainly use the cash flow.

What about our crew? I mean the sick ones.

Apparently they all got hit by a local delicacy. It's really nasty, the local medics say it's not uncommon and no long-term effects but it's completely debilitating for two to three weeks.

"Rut. Restrict the crew to on-board rations. Advise the passengers similarly. Make sure we have full details on whatever it is along with treatment instructions and supplies."

Aye, sir.

Tell Riva and Daley we have some extra time to hire, too.

Ervan turned back to his console and Osaki left without comment. Captain Ervan always saw the downside ten times larger than any benefit and that made him one of Infinity's best captains. Osaki always tried to focus on the balance with positive and negative sides unadorned. For simple truth this re-route wouldn't delay their final destination by too long, most of the passengers didn't care and all of them enjoyed their journey so far. And the extra profit would help.

After Osaki dispatched the most urgent orders, those concerning rations and medical supplies, he left for the port complex. Interstellar Infinity maintained a minimal office here mostly for passenger bookings but usable at need for other tasks. The booking agent, who also served three other companies due to the lack of traffic through this port, worked out of one of her other offices today. Infinity's office now held a dozen rough-looking men and women.

Adeline Riva and Lothur Daley, the Shimmersilk's Chief and Senior stewards, sat at garbled desks at the end of the room. They sat up, stood and walked to Osaki as soon as they spied him. He motioned them outside.

We have an extra three days to find crew, he said without preamble. We just received orders for a re-route.

Bloody, said Riva, lighting a drugstick. Most days I'd be six-sigmas ecstatic about that, Fred, but I doubt this planet has three days worth of offerings.

No blather there, said Daley, lighting a 'stick of his own. We're scraping the bilge now. I don't like the looks of any of 'em.

Osaki nodded. I know, LD, but we're not hiring on looks. Else none of us would have a job.

Riva didn't lift him a finger but Osaki saw it in her eyes.

Just look at their qualifications and do the best you can. Don't eat the local rats, either. Ervan ordered on-board only.

We figured that, said Riva. Especially after that slop took Ricky down. She lowered her voice. That hit me strange, Fred. We ate the same stuff at the same place. I got gas and he got a medical bunk. I've seen him eat things civilized people wouldn't dare call food and go back for seconds.

Osaki shrugged. I know, Adeline. Don't start seeing shadows, though. Our last few runs were platinum and polar orbits. I just hope this is the sigma line on our bad luck for this one.

Jitter squelched.

***

Amos Eufinigar, captain and owner of the Bamber Heine, a free trader out of the Kensie Free Systems, grunted in surprise when GC directed him downward. He took the helm and drove with extreme care and caution. He couldn't decide what surprised him more: permission to land or the lack of a standard wire.

I don't like this, said Marcia Canwell, Eufinigar's astrogator and current girlfriend. First the Mekhajan and now this. You should've refused.

Close the hose, he said, wondering if she'd worn out her position. Nibet is nibet and this run landed us plenty of it.

Bloody worthless if it costs our lives.

I said close it. Eufinigar concentrated on his console. "Besides, my memory seems to tell me you had a plus-plus good feeling about smuggling that cinkoleaf into the League. 'No worries,' you said. 'It's minor,' you said. I guess since they didn't confiscate everything I own and knock both of us into the can it was but that still left us owing CBC and Metal Exchange a lot. They are not people you want to rut around."

How was I supposed to know...

Phase down, vix. Let me land the ruddy ship. It's dot-zero simple. We land. We drop the cargo. The locals take it, sealed boxes, and we loft as soon as the last one's gone. Once that happens we get a crypcert for enough to buy my duff out of the fusion chamber.

Canwell finally quieted, whether from Eufinigar's ire or the rapidly-approaching ground he neither knew nor cared.

Just under two hours later the Bamber Heine received permission to launch. Canwell never left the bridge and Eufinigar did so only briefly.

Well?

Smoother than polysilk, he said. I don't know if those stapes were local or not but their nibet is universal. Frost. I may even try for another one of these runs.

You're ruddy stupid if you do.

Eufinigar ignored her as he checked her plots back to Port Noble. He didn't mention the bonus he received to secure-wipe this trip from his logs. He did that as a matter of course, most smugglers did, and Canwell would only demand he split it with her.

For truth, he thought, the time had definitely come for a new astrogator and a new woman.

***

Jameson glared at the rescued captain who promptly lowered his gaze.

Tell me again why your transponders are all either weak or non-functional.

We are being sorry, sir, stammered Farley McShadden, but they did indeed pass inspection.

Two and a half years ago, said Jameson, and their age puts that window at fifteen months absolute. Not thirty.

The third lifeboat held McShadden, his first mate and two crew from their ship. From them Jameson learned that the ship overloaded its power net when it unlinked. McShadden ordered all hands to evacuate while he himself stayed to try a few final measures.

We're not being rich, Captain, said McShadden. Our profits are not high lately.

Jameson shook his head. Petty Officer Jaden, prepare a message to base. Please update and transmit our status. LINC squirt protocol. Begin damping now. Extended SEAR and recovery protocol and tell base not to expect a message soon. We may be here a long time.

Aye, sir. Initiating damping protocol now.

At least, thought Jameson, they'd by stars get that part right. After a two-second klaxon Garbhan shut off the gravity. McShadden gulped and looked ill which earned him no points in Jameson's books. He hadn't yet decided whether to charge the man, rather how severely. He might go easy if they recovered all of his crew alive and the L-squirter didn't blow any systems.

After five hours and a successful LINC squirt the CP112507 located another three lifeboats, four more crew and two passengers. Passengers. How had McShadden managed even basic transport-grade insurance with such a ship? Fortunately the last lifeboat held their astrogator. Jameson wasted no time having that man escorted to the bridge. They located another lifeboat not long afterward.