23 Mar 13
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|Max Storm Official Website||
Lieutenant Max Storm's future appeared golden until Storm found himself on the run, fighting to survive and save his ship and crew. Abandoned by the League Patrol and pursued by CorpSecurity, Storm is forced to abandon the codes he lives by while employing unorthodox weapons and tactics to escape with his crew, while a newly arrived crew makes the ultimate sacrifice. That sacrifice must be paid, and Storm is determined to collect.
Excerpt from Storm Coming
… "What happened to the Captain?" a voice asked from behind Ransom.
"He was still locked in the interface when I pulled him out. He couldn't disconnect when the computer locked up."
"He'll have a better chance with us than he would in there. That ship is going down and fast," the voice agreed.
Ransom clambered into an acceleration couch adjacent to Dushain and began buckling himself in. He was nearly finished when he realized that he hadn't felt the docking latches release. They were still attached to the landing deck of Fortune.
"Come on! Get us away from that thing,” he yelled forward at the tender pilot. "That piece of crap is going down! If you don't get us loose, we're going down with her!"
The tender pilot turned in her seat, looking back at Ransom. Her eyes were huge round white orbs matching the bloodless color of her face. "I can't. She won't release."
"What do you mean she won't release?"
"Fortune. The system isn't responding. It won't release our latches."
"Blow 'em!" Ransom ordered.
"I tried. The latches won't fire."
Ransom could hear the hysteria creeping into the woman's voice. "If you don't get us loose, we all die," he said.
"I'm telling you I can't get us loose. That ship's AI won't release the latches, and I can't blow them."
"Get out and let me in there. I'll hot wire the bastards. I'm not dying for this piece of crap yacht! Somebody throw me a splicer and a pair of cutters." The tools immediately slapped into his hands, but he did not see the source. He looked at the machinist in the couch adjacent to him. "Come on. I need you to help me get that compsole open so we can hot-wire the latch firing circuits," yelled Ransom, clawing at the acceleration seat strap release. He could feel the first atmospheric buffets as the plunging Fortune gently touched the upper atmosphere. The first gentle caresses that would culminate in the fiery plunge of the yacht and all of those trapped with her if he failed. ...