Page 1 of Max
Chapter One
Max Steele glided his hybrid hover cycle flyer to a stop on a mountain peak. Gazing over the snow-covered mountains, the ancient Blue Mountain Observatory drew his attention. The old observatory should have been preserved as a monument to humankind’s quest to understand the stars. Instead, it stood in ruin from centuries of neglect.
After months of getting to know his assigned territory and its people, his orders had changed. They were moving him to northern California to command a unit of a hundred protectors.
His weekly reports had talked him out of his current job. The farmers and ranchers in his territory, comprised of Montana, Wyoming, and Idaho, were a self-sufficient breed. They did not need an elite cyborg ranger to restore law and order because they had maintained it even after the Mesaarkans bombed every major city on Earth. The whole region only had a population of a few small cities, so the Mesaarkans passed over those states in favor of heavier population centers.
Max had treasured the quiet moments of solitude in places like this, and he only had to deal with people in small doses. He was a cyborg who didn’t have the best people skills. His marine ranger team was his family. He didn’t really mind unenhanced humans, but he felt awkward relating to them personally. He preferred his own company to socializing with any but his cyborg brothers.
This lightly populated area was perfect for him to oversee. But he had to admit he wasn’t truly needed here. These people were used to fending for themselves before the war began. His training as a field medic was required more often than law enforcement. It had often been the same in the war. Max was a formidable warrior as well.
He thought he was doing well in his solitary life on Phantom, working in cyber-tech repair and replacement. Max did feel a yearning to find his genetic mate, but the prospect also worried him. He had a hard time sharing his emotions with his friends. What if he couldn’t give his female the emotional support she needed? Her avatar had even lamented he was too closed off. What would his real mate think?
There was no sense in worrying about what might never happen. The avatar wasn’t real; she was a projection based on his mate’s genetic profile. Perhaps he would have a better outcome once exposed to her pheromones.
Stalker assured him there were beautiful mountains in California, too. He just needed to pick a spot where his prefab dwelling could be set up. Meanwhile, Max could sleep almost anywhere. His ranger team had often slept on the bare ground during the war; and he could do so again if necessary.
With a rueful sigh, he restarted the sky cycle and morphed it into flyer mode to head west to California. Stalker had suggested some areas to scout for setting up his house within a hundred-mile radius of the megalopolis of San Francisco.
A few hours later, he was gliding over mountains and farmland searching for a potential location where he might set up his home without close neighbors. He took snapshots of a few promising sites through his ocular camera, storing them along with their coordinates on his internal computer.
Falyn Wayne cantered her horse Angus along the crumbling pavement on her way home from town. The dark bay gelding had a smooth canter he could maintain for long distances, and Falyn took great pleasure in riding him. He had been her only means of transportation besides her two feet for almost nine years.
Lost in her thoughts about the chores she had to finish when she returned to her homestead, Falyn didn’t hear the hoofbeats fast approaching behind her. When the sound broke through her inner musings, she looked behind her and saw four riders racing toward her at full gallop. A shiver of fear rippled through her.
Falyn rarely saw one rider on this road leading to her small farm but four riders racing toward her could only be trouble. She must be their target at the speed they were coming after her. “Angus, run!” she kicked his sides and urged him forward with her hands.
Angus responded immediately as if he was born to run. He was fast and powerful, and easily increased the distance between them and the riders following them. Attempting to avoid leading them straight to her home, Falyn steered Angus off the road onto an old game trail that was actually a shortcut. The low hanging branches meant they had to move slower but they were familiar with those paths, and it would be faster through the wooded area. Soon they emerged into a great meadow stretching ahead for acres.
Once in the open field, Angus lengthened his stride into a full gallop across the open ground; he knew the path home…. Falyn hoped the other riders missed the game trail and she’d lost them. She started to believe they were going to make it home, until Angus, stumbled and crashed to the ground with a painful scream.
Falyn went sailing through the air and hit the grass rolling. The impact knocked the wind out of her, and she briefly lost consciousness.
Stunned and disoriented, it took her two tries to push to her hands and knees as she heard her horse’s painful whinny. She scanned the ground around her and found her beautiful horse lying on his side.
“Oh no, Angus!” Falyn pushed herself to her feet and stumbled toward him. She saw the problem immediately as she looked him over. His front leg had a bend where it shouldn’t be.
She walked over to him; she fell to her knees by his head, weeping softly. “I am so sorry, Angus,” she sobbed, stroking his great head.
The horse tried to roll onto his belly to get up and whinnied in pain. “No, baby. Don’t try to get up. It will only hurt more.” Falyn choked on a sob as she stood, knowing what she had to do. There was no fixing his broken leg.
Nine years, only nine years since she found him in her front yard one day. He was a spindly-legged colt all alone. She didn’t know where he came from or how he got there but she took him in. He was only nine years old, not that old for a horse.
He was in pain and suffering from an injury she couldn’t fix. He would die a long slow death or be eaten alive by mountain lions. Still crying softly, Falyn stood and pulled out the pistol from the holster at her right hip. Holding it pointed at the horse’s head in both hands. Tears blinded her, but she couldn’t make her trigger finger move.
Wiping her face on her muslin shirt sleeve, she pointed the gun at the horse’s head again, but her hands were shaking. How could she just kill him?
A memory flashed of him as a colt following her everywhere on the property as she went about her daily chores. One day he had even followed her into the kitchen. Her hands still shook as she tried to point the gun.
Flying over a valley, Max spotted a lone horseback rider fleeing from a group of riders a quarter mile behind. Max had no way to tell who was a victim or perpetrator, but the lone rider, a female, was clearly disadvantaged.
Calculating where best to set down, he lowered his vehicle to the ground in a vertical landing in front of the group. Pulling his ion rifle from the sling under his leg, he jumped off and pointed it at the oncoming horsemen.
The four reined their horses to a halt twenty feet before him.
“Just stop right there, gentlemen,” he commanded. “Don’t even think of pulling those side arms. You will all be dead before you get a shot off.”
“Who the fuck are you?”
