Atlantis Quadrilogy - Box Set

by Brandon Ellis

  Until now.

  Callisto’s guns shot blue electric bolts at the RGSS-2 slugs, turning them to dust on contact. Not a single slug reached Callisto’s surface. For the first time in fleet history, they’d failed to make rain. They were slugless against an enemy that could withstand their heaviest weapons.

  The crew looked to Gentry, who studied the screen. Everything below was at peace again.

  “Fire the IC’s. Give ’em all we got!”

  The turrets below wouldn’t be able to incinerate ion pulses from the Ion Cannons. The IC’s weren’t as devastating as the slugs, but they had the advantage of being accurate. It would take longer, but Star Warden would still prevail.

  The turrets rotated, their cannons extended and raised, locked onto their target – Star Warden. It had to be a trick of the light, because the muzzles appeared to balloon to three-times their original size and what metal was capable of that? Gentry didn’t have time to think it through. Thousands of electric-bolts burst from the cannon and pounded the star ship. The bridge’s view screen blinked in and out, the bolts zapping more energy from the star carrier’s core, draining the heart of the ship.

  Gentry fell back, clutching the Lecturn, only just able to keep himself upright.

  Star Warden’s IC’s blasted turret after turret, opening them up into exploding fire blossoms then twisting them into melted rubble.

  It counted for squat.

  Once a turret went offline, another turret would pop up in its place, shooting volleys at Star Warden.

  Both Star Warden and the enemy were exchanging fire, exchanging hit after hit. Only one combatant was suffering and it wasn’t Callisto.

  “Sir, shields are below fifty percent.” There was real panic in Bogle’s eyes, something Gentry had never seen before.

  “That low?”

  “They are sucking the life energy from our shields.”

  Another hit and Gentry snapped to. For weapons to damage Star Warden like this was unusual, especially from turrets. “Keep targeting and continue to pound them. Lock ballistics on the pyramids. Let’s shut off their grid, render the turrets useless.” He massaged his temple. If their shields went down, they were burnt fucking toast.

  Down on Callisto, a turret exploded and another popped up next to it, sending blasts toward Star Warden.

  A dozen intermediate space to ground ballistic missiles shot from Star Warden’s starboard.

  One by one, they were targeted and shot down by the turrets. They never got close to the pyramids or Princess Leia.

  Callisto was defended.

  “Fire again.”

  The same results.

  “How are our shields?”

  Bogle growled. “Eighteen percent. This isn’t looking good, Admiral!”

  “Why are we losing shields so quickly?”

  They didn’t have enough time. In less than a minute, they’d lose all shields. Gentry had never witnessed Star Warden under fifty percent shields, let alone under twenty percent. He cringed as Star Warden shuddered again. He let out a shallow breath. It sucked, but there was only one logical choice. He gave the order without a shred of emotion, though his guts were roiling.

  “Abandon ship.”

  If it had been permitted, he would have doubled over and vomited all over his own shoes, but there was no time for sentimentality. He needed to get his crew to safety. “Set evacuation procedures immediately.”

  The turret fire stopped as suddenly as it had begun and quiet filled the bridge.

  Gentry stared straight ahead at the view screen. Callisto’s silence could mean a million different things, but his gut told him it didn’t mean surrender. He was about to do something that galled him, but it was necessary. A good commander knows when to attack and when to retreat. They were outgunned. It was time. “Back us up. We’re heading to the fleet.”

  “Shields are up to twenty-three percent,” Bogle said. “Star Warden shields are regenerating. We’re doing well.”

  “Did you say well? We got the piss kicked out of us. Another minute and we’d be in our evacuation crafts, watching Star Warden being ripped apart.”

  “Twenty-eight percent, Admiral.”

  Gentry was pleasantly shocked.

  Star Warden was a beast. It had taken twice as much damage from larger weapons fire in the past and the shields had never reacted this poorly. Today, the shields had been almost completely drained. If Callisto hadn’t stopped pummeling them, Star Warden would have been a dead ship flying. That meant whoever was down on Callisto was more dangerous and more powerful than any race or species he’d ever come across, including his own.

  Gentry’s face hardened and his eyes grew cold. This group on Callisto had to be stopped. In fact, they had to be eliminated. Any race this strong was a direct threat to human survival – to Earth’s survival. He couldn’t turn tail and run. He had to obliterate them.

  He leaned forward. “Ready nuclear heads.”

  Bogle tilted her head. “We can’t do that, Sir.”

  “We can and we will. Launch when ready.”

  Bogle abandoned her post and rushed to Gentry’s side. “There is an archaeological and resource goldmine down there. Call it off. We’ll come back after we’ve had more time to think about our next action.”

  Gentry pushed Bogle away. “Launch when ready.”

  “You’ll be destroying a resource bed that we could use for eons. And, we don’t know if they truly are hostile. It could be an automated response. Perhaps we’ve entered a ‘no fly’ zone and the machines are programmed to repel all ships they don’t recognize…”

  “They shot first. That’s hostile enough. Their technology is more advanced than ours, Bogle.”

  A weapons officer chimed in. “Nuclear warhead ready. Keys locked in. All we need is yours, Admiral.”

  Gentry paced over to an officer’s station. He typed in a code on the station’s control panel and a small drawer slid outward with a long, thick shining key tucked inside. He grabbed the “fire control” key and slid it into a keyhole designated “Admiral.” He glanced at two officers standing side by side, their own “fire control” keys inserted into their designated nuclear launch keyholes.

  The Admiral eyed them, “Commencing launch in three, two, one...now.”

  They turned their keys simultaneously.

  Bogle’s shoulders slumped. She was disappointed in him. Big deal. She needed to grow a set. This was war. The sooner she learned that, the better off she’d be. Gentry held his position.

  The view screen dimmed, to save the crews eyes from the coming nuclear explosion.

  The warhead wasn’t large, but it was powerful. In ten seconds, a mushroom cloud would erupt on Callisto but Star Warden would be too far away from Callisto’s atmosphere to either feel the blast or suffer from fallout or radiation.

  The turrets on the moon locked onto the warhead the second it left Star Warden. In a flash, the turrets fired in unison, filling the view screen with a blinding white light. A moment later, the screen filled with orange and red flames, then evaporated in the vacuum of space.

  The warhead was hit close to Star Warden. Too close.

  Gentry watched in horror as the bridge cracked in half. The view screen split down the middle and all air was sucked into space along with everything and everyone else.

  Gentry saw Captain Bogle spin away toward Callisto.

  She reached for Gentry as he was catapulted in the opposite direction.

  Star Warden was buckling in on itself, explosions blasting holes in its sides, extinguishing seconds after.

  People spilled out of the decimated ship, spinning in space’s cold, oxygen-deprived death grip.

  Gentry’s vision narrowed, blackness crowding in, until he lost sight entirely. His body stiffened as the oxygen drained from his blood.

  His heart stopped.

  His brain shut down.

  Darkness filled him, followed by a flash of light. He was a man among the stars, just as he’d always
wanted to be.

  2

  J-Quadrant, Solar System ~ Callisto

  This isn’t happening. I’m going to die.

  Captain Katherine Bogle had been ripped out of Star Warden by the vacuum of space, the mighty star carrier torn apart and buckling in on itself. She’d told Admiral Gentry Race not to do it, not to deploy the nuclear war-head at an unknown civilization on a Jupiter moon. On Callisto.

  He did. And it had backfired.

  You killed your crew. You killed yourself. You killed me.

  Three seconds into the void of space and Katherine was hurtling toward the Callisto atmosphere. She closed her eyes and clamped her mouth shut. If she kept them open, her eyes and tongue would boil, like Arnold on Mars in “Total Recall.” Without a space suit, she’d feel the worst effects of space and she’d rather pass out before those effects took hold; her lymph, bladder, and blood would double in size, her lungs would rupture, and she’d freeze to death. Then there was the approaching Callisto atmosphere. Consciously burning up wasn’t something she wanted to experience, either, even if she only had about twelve seconds of conscious life left. If she wasn’t conscious when death grabbed hold, when it took her final heart beat, the better.

  Five seconds and the deep-freeze of the cosmos would engulf her, the oxygen inside her expanding, her body ballooning.

  Gentry, the diabolical jerk, pulled the trigger and she paid the ultimate price for his sin. Thirty-thousand of Star Warden’s crew paid the ultimate price for his foolishness.

  Eight seconds.

  In eight more seconds, she’d pass out. At least, that’s what physics class had taught her. And in less than a minute, after she passed out, her trachea would collapse, she’d asphyxiate, and suffocate to death.

  Just do it now. God, please take me. God, please. Don’t torture me.

  Twelve seconds and a warm liquid surrounded her, as if she’d fallen into a pool. Instinctively, she opened her eyes. She was under water. It was thick and spongy, with a tinge of reddish-yellow.

  This isn’t water. What’s happening? Is this death?

  She heard a splash that wasn’t her own. It was the type of splash you heard when you were in a pool and already underwater. Hands – white gloves and white sleeves – reached for her.

  An angel. An angel has come for me. I’m going to heaven. Thank you, God! Thank you!

  Her faith ran deep and wide. She’d always known God would not abandon her. She reached for the gloved hands as they reached for her. As their fingers met, the etheric Being’s face came into view.

  No, that wasn’t a face.

  She lurched back. She was staring at a white helmet, black visor. That was no angel. Was this a demon, a taker of souls?

  “No!” Katherine shouted, bubbles exiting her mouth, escaping to the surface. She flailed, kicking and scratching and snapping at the demon. The thick liquid slowed her attempts, like a boxer fighting in a boxing ring of Jello.

  The demon reached for Katherine, grabbing her arms, its grip firm. It reversed course and swam in the direction from whence it came, pulling Katherine along with it through the molasses-thick liquid. Katherine swung her hips around and kicked, landing a solid hit against its stomach.

  The demon was strong and didn’t waver, continuing to pull her in the direction he chose.

  She pulled her arms toward herself, attempting to bring the Being closer. Maybe a knee to the groin, if it had a groin, would do the trick. Again, he was unmovable except by his own accord. He was a demon and he was dragging her to her doom. She had done something so bad, so terrible, but she couldn’t remember her transgression.

  Why was she being taken to the devil? Why was she going to hell? Why would God allow this to happen?

  No. She was a good person. She had tried to stop Gentry. She tried to do good in the face of wrong. Maybe hell had been her destination all along? Even before the nuke, before Gentry destroyed his own ship, before she enlisted in the Secret Space Program.

  She closed her eyes and prayed. She’d repent, throw herself on the will of God. That’s all she had left.

  She exploded out of the liquid, as if the Being had a propeller on its back. She took a long gasp of air, coughing and spitting the viscous goo out of her mouth and nose. The Being threw her over its shoulder and carried her from the pool room to the adjacent room. Bogle was confused, disoriented. Perhaps it was a sick bay or a changing room. Whatever it was, the space was warm and inviting and Bogle had to fight the urge to let go of all conscious thought and simply sleep.

  The Being bent down on one knee and gently rested Bogle on her back, then rolled her onto her side.

  Bogle vomited, all the contents of good and evil leaving her, and memories surfaced – the times she’d gone to church and embraced her Lord and Savior; the time she spent all day preparing a Thanksgiving feast for a homeless shelter, the smiles she saw, the happiness for giving, for being in service to others, for giving hope to those who thought hope was all but gone. But was it enough? A few good deeds and wham! Bam! Thank you ma’am! Heaven?

  Couldn’t be. She’d seen so much wickedness and done so little to stop it.

  And, then the evil flashbacks, memories she stuffed down, wishing them away forever, the ones she’d almost forgotten. She vomited hard and deep, remembering the time she didn’t listen to her boyfriend, wouldn’t talk to him because she was “too busy” only to find him hanging from a rope a half hour later, pale as death.

  The time she beat the ever-living shit out of her younger sister for being “in the way, all the time.”

  She vomited again and again, images sliding in and out of her awareness like a PowerPoint presentation, leaving her with no energy. No emotion.

  But breath…it left breath.

  She rolled onto her back and blinked, the stars of the galaxy twinkling through a rectangular opening in the ceiling. A gossamer-thin fog spanned the opening. Did she fall through that gap? Through that fog? How? She glanced around, coughing more. There were lights everywhere. To her left, a control panel and a view screen off in the distance. She was in a ship.

  The contents of the pool drained and the Being stepped to her side.

  Bogle expelled a quick breath and sucked as much oxygen as she could into her lungs, desperate to right herself and crawl away.

  Across the room, in letters three-feet tall, a message flashed on the viewscreen. “Call Kaden Jaxx home.” Bogle blinked. She had to be hallucinating. None of this made a lick of sense. But there it was; the message Princess Leia had been transmitting to the stars. “Captain Katherine Bogle: call Jaxx home.”

  3

  Starship Atlantis ~ M-Quadrant, Solar System (Near Mars)

  “Aw, shit, did you feel that?” Jaxx pressed his knuckle into his solar plexus. “I’m telling you, Slade, there are forces out here that we know nothing about. Waves, particles, energy frequencies…I’m feeling them right here, in my core.”

  “Quit gawping at the stars. They’ll be here when you get back.” Colonel Slade Roberson nudged Kaden Jaxx’s chair with his boot.

  Jaxx didn’t budge. The stars were so close he could almost grab them by their tails and swing them about his head. He wanted to lie in his chair, staring, forever. The signals he was picking up were out of sight. He was a human tuning fork, newly tuned to a cosmic frequency. The songs of his childhood wouldn’t leave him alone. He was Major Tom, on a rocket ship, spinning in space. It was wild.

  “It’s time to come out of your hole, Jaxx.” Slade Roberson was not fucking around. Slade never fucked around.

  Slade had recruited him, back on Earth, to interpret the glyphs found on Callisto’s pyramids and – apart from the forced hypnotherapy, the time in the sensory-deprivation tank, being shot at by Slade’s henchman Captain Fuckface Fox, the returning memories of his time off-world, and the realization that his life in no way resembled the life he thought he’d built – the job Slade had given him was a dream-come-true. In his heart, he wanted to race down the sleek,
elegant corridors of Starship Atlantis and into the ops center and take up where he left off, but Slade had been such an unrelenting asshole, he didn’t want to give him the satisfaction. Slade’s organization, the Global Safety Administration, had treated him very shabbily. He looked from Slade to the far-off stars outside his window. “No thank you. I’ll give it a pass.”

  Slade returned in kind, dropping his eyelids like a puppy dog. “I understand.” He took a step forward, then kicked Jaxx’s chair. “Get your sad, piece of shit ass up, Jaxx!”

  Jaxx sat up alert, his heart in overdrive.

  Slade’s voice boomed. Jaxx didn’t know if it was because of thirty plus years of yelling practice in the military or if this room had a remarkable sound quality to it.

  He didn’t take his eyes from the window.

  Slade grabbed Jaxx’s arms, pulling him into a standing position. “Do you want me to kick your ass again?”

  Jaxx huffed, giving a smart-ass remark, “Aye, Colonel.” He didn’t give a rat’s ass what Slade did to him anymore. Being abducted, forced against his will onto a ship that launched out of Earth’s atmosphere, and traveling to a distant moon – well, that part wasn’t so bad – along with the orders and the bad attitude he had to take from Fox and Slade for not complying to every thing they wanted; had driven him past his breaking point. They could yell and bully all they liked; he wasn’t going to lift a finger until they showed him some respect.

  Slade curled his hand into a fist, then relaxed, thinking better of it. “We have someone on board who needs your help.”

  Jaxx felt it again, a deep chord being struck right in the center of his chest.

  Rivkah – the woman he’d betrayed; the woman he’d saved; the woman who hated him with a white-hot-hate – was on the ship. He closed his eyes and let wave after wave of energy pass through him. She needed him. He didn’t know how or why or what to do about it, but she needed him. Just as he needed her. But it was bigger than that. They were both necessary. For what, he had no clue.