The power coursed through his veins, stronger than before, stronger than ever. Then a calm and peace overtook him and his body relaxed as he stood straight, focused, eyes on the target – the man who wanted to tear him from limb to limb, Captain Fox.
He bared his teeth, narrowed his eyes and pushed outwards with his hands, palms up, as if he was shooting an actual ball of energy. He watched the invisible ball smack into the titanium-wearing Space Marine, then catapult Fox back into the throng of oncoming soldiers, pinning them onto the ground, then bouncing off of them like a bolder plummeting down the side of a mountain. The guards Fox missed were hit by Jaxx’s power as well, rendering them useless.
Jaxx took a deep breath, blinking rapidly. It was hard to believe it worked. But it did.
Jaxx couldn’t gawk any longer, more guards were entering the bay. He turned on his heels and rushed to an open cockpit Air Wing and pounded his feet and hands up the ladder, then jumped onto the seat, quickly pressing the aircraft canopy’s close button.
He searched for a helmet. It wasn’t there. Shit. That’s the only way Shaughnessy told him how to turn on the vortex Doppler system, Adaptive Boost, and get the frequency code dialed on the comm line and send it to the portal.
To live, he needed to escape. By now, they knew it was him and they wouldn’t open up a damn thing, not even an air duct, for him. If he blasted the tubes with some Slingers or AAIM-5 Darts, and it actually punched a hole in the ship or broke open a few of the tubes, he’d be sending hundreds of people who worked in the bay to an ultimate end – death by space.
He wasn’t that type of guy.
He clicked on the comm line, wishing he had his helmet with him. He could do everything he wanted without a helmet, but reaching for dials, levers, and holographic buttons may be the instant he needed to use voice commands to get himself out of a deadly dog fight.
“Mission Control, open a launch tube.” He drove the Air Wing forward.
“Negative. You are unauthorized to launch.”
“I’m blasting the shit out of the launch tubes if you don’t open one. That would compromise everyone in this bay, including you.” He lied.
“You are not authorized. I’m ordered to shut down the entire bay. No one is coming in and no one is going out, including you.”
Jaxx clicked on the holographic AAIM-5 Dart icon, readying it for launch. “I have a Dart ready. You going to open up the tube, yet?”
“Negative.”
Dammit. I have to do it. I can’t believe I’m doing this. He aimed left, targeting the wall. It wouldn’t puncture, but it would leave a mighty explosion, but he was still far enough away that it wouldn’t damage his fighter. “Get everyone out of the bay, now!”
He wiped his forehead. He was sweating, profusely, his hand shaking. “Here goes.” He dropped his hand to the control stick and pulled the trigger.
Zoooshaaa! A bright flash erupted from his port and a small missile pushed forward by blue ion propulsion hit the wall several feet from Launch Tube One. The heat blanketed his cockpit, a reddish-orange light highlighting the bay, and he instinctively put his forearm up to guard his face.
He didn’t stop there and readied his Ion Cannons. He turned his starfighter around, facing Mission Control and the dozens of guards pushing themselves up from the blast they just experienced. He targeted an Air Wing and let loose.
Ion bolts, followed by red tracer fire, erupted against an empty Air Wing, the cockpit window tore from its fasteners, spinning to the ground, the bolts splitting through the forward integral energy tanks, buckling the craft in half, setting it ablaze.
Guards dove and ducked out of the way, mechanics and techs ran out of the bay, and Mission Control was probably wild eyed and running for the exits.
He readied another Dart. “Mission Control. I’m not shitting you. I’ll light you up.” He wouldn’t but they’d believe whatever he said.
No response. He looked around, seeing the bay doors shutting, people running out, sliding under the doors.
He rotated his ship back around, facing the closed launch tubes. He had to get this right. If he broke open a launch tube, his Air Wing would be sucked out almost immediately. He’d have to guide the thing perfectly without damaging his wings – if he could get the hole big enough.
He needed to create a large enough area for a safe vacuum ride out.
He readied another Dart. He targeted Launch Tube One and Two, each missile aiming to cause a ton of damage. That wouldn’t be enough. He readied two SSSRM-23 Slingers to launch a split second after the Darts. Slingers were heavier, caused more damage, and would open up a large enough hole to get his butt of this ship.
“Here is for wishful thinking.” He pressed the trigger, one flame, then two flames shot from each wing, slamming into the tubes, a fire cloud erupting then being sucked into the dark void as space opened up before him. He didn’t have time to think. He pushed his throttle forward while being inhaled by the pull of the cosmos. He zipped toward the opening, and then through it – a myriad of unoccupied ships following him, spinning in the darkness of space.
What the hell?
Out here, giant ships were everywhere and they weren’t the ones from Starship Atlantis’s launch bay.
He swung his Air Wing into a hard right, avoiding a frigate flying between Starship Atlantis and a holy-shit, bigger than all that’s holy, Star Carrier. His eyes became saucers. The Secret Space program had entered the star quadrant. He had to get the hell out of here, along with Rivkah, and to that star portal – maybe their only chance of survival.
A pull, coming from his solar plexus, tugged at him. The pull was strong and almost caused him to lurch forth with it. It was Rivkah. He knew she was out here and she was thinking about him, he could tell – probably cursing his name for some damn thing he couldn’t remember he’d done in the past.
He shifted his trajectory, aiming toward that pull, then glanced at his radar. She was heading away from the fleet. He needed her call sign and number for radio privacy. He tapped a few buttons on the radar, bringing up her Air Wing’s signature – 102, Identification: Dizzy.
He pushed down on his control stick, moving under the Star Carrier, then patched 102 into his comm line. “Rivkah, this is Jaxx. Do you copy? Clear.”
The line came alive. “Watch your six.”
His heart rose at the sound of her voice, then plummeted with her response. She was all business. She was as happy to hear his voice as a bird was to see a cat.
“Rivkah, I’m going to steer you to a star portal. We’re getting out of here, but you have to turn around and head toward Mars.”
“A what? Never heard of such a thing. And, no, not turning around. Have a good day. See you on the other side. Out.”
“Rivkah, listen to me. This is our only escape.”
No response.
“Rivkah!”
Again, nothing.
“God Dammit.” He veered in her direction. He’d get her to the portal if he had to throw a line and hook and tug her along.
He went to turn on Adaptive Boost. The problem was, he didn’t have a helmet to voice that command into the cockpit’s holographic display console. But, a button or a lever had to be somewhere.
He leaned forward, the restraining straps stretching with him, and eyed everything on the control panel, whispering the words on the panel to himself.
Adaptive Boost was either invisible or he was blind to that specific button.
Where in star-piss is it?
A long beep went off and he clutched the control stick with both hands, his heart skipping a nervous beat. His craft shuttered, debris hitting his cockpit window like a quick downpour of hail.
He pulled away, ducking under another frigate. “Rivkah, can you pull up Adaptive Boost and let me know where the star portal is? I need to know now.”
“Nope.”
His cockpit beeped, beeped, and beeped again. “What the...”
Radar showed over twenty incomin
g bandits – all Air Wings. And they probably weren’t there to escort him to the star portal.
He throttled to Sub-light 3.1, precisely 21,000 miles per hour and pulled back on his control stick, moving higher to get in the middle of the fleet. This way, he could play cat and mouse, he the mouse, using the large fleet ships as cover. If he hugged a ship, the bandits wouldn’t fire, unless they wanted to hit the Secret Space Program. Jaxx figured they didn’t.
“Rivkah, I can get us out of here, but you have to act fast. You’ll have a dozen bogeys on your butt if you don’t. And soon.”
No reply.
A dozen Air Wings broke from formation, speeding for Rivkah.
“They are coming for you right now.”
Rivkah didn’t alter her craft’s course. Was she committing suicide?
Jaxx zipped by a Destroyer, inching as close to its armor as he could. Nine Air Wings, plus an Oospor, followed.
“Rivkah, I’m heading for Mars. Hang a hard and wide loop and get as far from the bandits as possible. And, for God’s sakes, turn on your Doppler and send me the vortex coordinates.”
His craft shook again as more shards of cluster bullets slapped against his Air Wing.
Jaxx had to get to that star portal.
“Rivkah, at least send me the coordinate and upload the vortex onto my holographic display, will you?”
Silence.
He clenched his fist. She wouldn’t cooperate. Had he fucked her up that badly? How big of an ass had he been to her? He pushed down on his control stick, ducking under a cruiser, heading for a vortex he had no location for.
The Air Wings and Oospor were closing in. He notched his speed to Sub Light 3.4, zipping by a fast-moving frigate. There were only a few more fleet ships in front of him then it was just him, empty space, and then Mars – the planet’s glow filling the local cosmos like a street lamp on a clear, crisp night.
He had to stay within the confines of the fleet, though. He couldn’t risk it. He pulled up.
The radar popped up on the holographic display, telling him something important just happened or changed. One of the many Air Wings in the back of the pack and chasing blipped off the screen, then another vanished.
He squished his brows together. What in the world?
He switched to exterior vid cams and everything in a wide tunnel radius behind him came up on the holographic display. He zoomed in with the camera, catching a glimpse of an Air Wing, obviously piloted by Rivkah, in the back of the pack firing missiles at another starfighter near the rear of the formation. The starfighter exploded into a fiery redish-blue, then fizzed out.
The Air Wings broke formation, except for the Oospor, still closing in.
Rivkah was helping him.
An infrared vid popped up on the holoscreen. A swirl fluctuated in and out of the vid, pulsing like a heart beat, vanishing and then reappearing, never more than a ghost-like appearance. A haze of two energy circles of equal radius were in the middle of the spiral, twenty five percent of the second circle over lapped the first, creating what looked like an opening – a portal.
“The Vesica Pisces,” said Jaxx. He knew sacred geometry better than any archaeologist alive. “The bridge portal.” The Atlanteans on Callisto had most likely created it for a straight-shot flight to Callisto. All they had to do was match the portal frequency with the doorway frequency – another portal outside the Jupiter moon – voilà, anyone could travel without using Alcubierre Metric, which drained a large portion of a ship’s generators.
“There… happy now?” It was Rivkah, her voice revved with anger. She wanted to go her way, but probably knew that the only way to safety – if that word existed in her vocabulary anymore – was to follow the asshole she blamed everything on, Jaxx.
Jaxx came out from under a miles-long, miles-wide ship, and pulled up, the Oospor dead on his rear. He glanced at his radar. “Rivkah, can you send the coordinates of the star portal and then get this Oospor off my ass?”
The coordinates popped up. Just as he remembered. The portal was nearly touching Mars’ magnetosphere. He patched the coordinates into his control panel and veered right, just as another cluster shot came his way.
His radar beeped again. The Airwings had come back into formation and he was their main target. He turned his Air Wing dial to Sub Light 3.5, zooming past the last ship in the fleet. It was just Jaxx, empty space in front of him, and then the star portal.
The Oospor suddenly moved at a quick, slight angle on his radar. It had been hit. Good job, Rivkah. Jaxx sat straighter, then slightly slumped the moment the Oospor regained composure and went back into its projected path – Jaxx’s path.
The supposed coordinates were up ahead, the Oospor slipping away as Rivkah pounded it even more with IC’s. The Air Wings were now his major threat. They were approaching fast, using each other as a wave stream to propel them faster, while using less energy. It was an often-used tool – wave streams – for fleets within the Secret Space Program who wanted to get to somewhere fast without using Sub Light 50, fifty-percent of light speed.
Fuck. How did he know this? He rapped his knuckles on his head, not wanting to know what he knew about the Secret Space Program. It made him feel ill. It made him feel wrong.
“Rivkah, tap in 51008 in your comm line. Then transmit it continuously. It’s the only way in and out of the star portal.”
No response. He checked his radar, seeing she was chasing the Oospor. A dozen more Air Wings were now in pursuit, probably launching from their respective ships no more than five minutes ago.
His heartbeat rose. Everyone was closing in on him. He throttled up, aiming at Mars, targeting the star portal coordinates.
“Again, listen to me. You have to do this to survive. Patch 51008 into your comm line and create a continued transmission. I’m doing so now and I’ll be on radio silence, so you won’t be able to speak with me until I end the frequency transmission. I hope you hear me. Please, Rivkah. I’m pleading with you. Do this!”
“Fuck you, Jaxx. I got it. I’m en-route. Clear.”
He was overwhelmed with relief and if he was standing next to her, he’d throw his arms around her in an elated hug. “Excellent. Follow me.” He switched his comm line dial from Rivkah’s private comm to the star portal frequency. In theory, he and his craft would vanish in less than a minute. The Air Wing pilots, who probably thought he was flying to Mars where he would dodge and dogfight with them planet-side, would probably piss their pants when he disappeared in front of their eyes. He just hoped his theory was sound. If it wasn’t, he was facing the well known FUBAR – fucked-up-beyond-all-recognition.
The problem: the Air Wings were now in range and Jaxx’s cockpit lit up with alarms.
He checked the radar. Rivkah was behind them, the Oospor way off in the distance, probably in need of desperate repair from Rivkah’s ravaging. You don’t mess with Riv in a fight. Never. She was now at the back of the Air Wing pack again, causing turmoil, while the front of the pack was causing turmoil for him.
Ten seconds to hope, ten seconds to the portal.
A loud, continuous beep resounded in his cockpit. Missiles were launched, no doubt screaming their way toward him – that’s if sound penetrated the expansive darkness like sound weaved around on planets.
He wasn’t changing course. He couldn’t and the mess of SSSRM-23 Slingers weren’t, either.
More alarms, more missiles, and he was less than a few seconds away from the portal. Which would hit first? His craft into the portal or the missiles? He closed his eyes in anticipation. A static-sound erupted in his cockpit and his Air Wing rumbled like a car in an earthquake. His eyes shot wide open and blue, yellow, and orange lightning streaks twirled around his ship. A tube opened up before him, sucking him in like light to a wormhole.
His ship rattled, his holographic instrument panel shorted in and out as his ship catapulted at an incredible speed down a blue lit tunnel that rotated around him.
“Please Rivkah. I hope
you followed me,” he whispered to himself.
His craft suddenly buffeted and spun, lights of every color shrouded his cockpit, clouds of electric gases and more lightning erupted, creating a dizzying display. The static-sound stopped and he heard a low, deep rumble like thunder. Another lightning bolt cut through the gases and then shifted, blanketing him with clouds of pale whites and reds.
His mouth fell open. Where the hell was he? He couldn’t see anything except the colorful clouds. Startled, another crack of thunder rumbled around his Air Wing. He checked his holoscreen, pulling up his radar.
According to his ship’s data, he was near Ganymede, a Jupiter moon. And Europa, Io, Lysithea, Elara, Autonoe, and the radar identification went on and on, until it came to Callisto – his destination. But, where was he? He brought up his own location and about jumped out of his seat. He was in Jupiter’s upper atmosphere.
He went to adjust his throttle and steer his craft out of Jupiter’s atmosphere, through the exosphere, and into space. He halted when a voice blared over his comm line. “Lieutenant Kaden Jaxx, this is Captain Katherine Bogle. We will retain your ship’s controls.”
18
M-Quadrant, Solar System
Starship Atlantis
Spit leapt out of President Craig Martelle’s mouth as he spoke, his face red, his eyes wild. “You lost Jaxx? You had a kill team on him? Are you fucking mad, Slade? What are we going to do when we get to Callisto? He was the key.”
Slade crossed his arms, his brows creased. He stood erect, his chin high, his chest out. He wanted to slap the President. Slap him, hog tie him, and push him out an air lock. No one told Slade that he screwed up. No one!
“What the fuck are you doing to get him back?”
“Captain Richard Fox is on it, Mr. President.” Slade stared at Martelle – eyeball to eyeball. If it hadn’t been for Slade, none of their objectives would have been met. Slade wasn’t taking the President and the entire Democratic and Republican Party – who Slade referred to as DemoReps – on some joy ride. It had taken him years to create a program big enough to pull off a space mission of this magnitude and if it hadn’t been for the random Callisto discovery in May, the President would still have been be itching his crotch in a nervous twitch that his cabinet, his family, and his Republic – which he had a huge boner for – would still be in the crosshairs of Earth’s coming changes. In short, Slade had saved their damned asses and set them on a course to conquer the stars. Admiral Gentry had fucked it up, just a tidge, by opening fire on Callisto; and Fox was half way to Mars in a hot froth about killing Jaxx; but other than that, it wasn’t a total clusterfuck.
Destination Atlantis (Ascendant Chronicles Book 2) Page 9