Ascendant Saga Collection: Sci-Fi Fantasy Techno Thriller

by Brandon Ellis

  Fox turned his afterburners on, reaching the clouds. “Get back to Liberty.” He disappeared into the clouds.

  “I can’t shake him,” Rivkah shouted. “Leave me and get on Fox’s six, Jaxx. He may need you.”

  A beep filled his cockpit and Jaxx’s stomach sank. “We have twelve more incoming. Fall away east and let them follow. Get low, use the terrain as your defense. I’m going to get some to chase me. Understand?”

  “Negative, Jaxx. Orders are orders. Get out.”

  Jaxx flew in a wide arc toward the twelve incoming and twisted around to bother them as best he could. It worked.

  Half of the bandits broke off in perfect unison, as if piloted by computers. Jaxx pulled a wide loop and they tailed him. The others kept formation, Rivkah in their targets.

  A shrill boomed in Jaxx’s ears. “I’m hit. I’m ejecting, Jaxx. I’m ejecting.”

  “Pull up, Rivkah.”

  “Too much damage for that, Jaxx. The hole is the size of Alaska. I’m out.”

  Out of the corner of his eye, Jaxx saw an outburst of fire, dirt, and debris as Rivkah’s Air Wing pounded into the Taiyo forest. His heart thudded dully in his chest until he saw Rivkah falling toward the ground, her parachute ensuring her slow descent.

  The starfighter who downed her could have easily picked her off. She was a sitting target. Instead, he pulled a barrel roll, Jaxx being his next victim.

  But now Jaxx was everyone’s target. He broke and veered sharply across his attackers’ flight path to increase his angle off the enemy starfighters’ noses. It exposed him to the enemy’s weapon fire for a brief second. He twisted on his side. Their shots went wide.

  Jaxx angled toward the city, speeding into the black smoke plumes caused by Fox’s devastating strafe runs. The dozens of enemy fighters closed in, part of Jaxx’s plan.

  He hit the plume at 2,200 miles per hour and immediately descended and leveled out just above the trees, coming around to sneak a few shots into the back of the pack. Targeting, he let his PC’s cut through an enemy’s tail, then heard a massive pop. A burning sensation spread through his spine like fast-growing roots. The pain catapulted him back into his physical body. No longer one with his Air Wing, he sat like a heavy piece of lead in his cockpit, his hands gripping the control stick, doing his best to keep his starfighter stable. It didn’t respond.

  Already low to the ground, the terrain rushed up at him like a tsunami. Jaxx slid his hand down his seat’s side and punched the ejection button. The cockpit burst open and wind blasted him like an F3 tornado. He flung up and away from his craft, his parachute opening, his craft crumpling into the dense forest below. Fire rose into the air, a baroom sound a second later.

  The ejection pushed him away from the coming impact, but that didn’t make him invisible.

  He floated towards the canopy, watching a bandit round on him. One string of tracer fire and he’d attain dead man status in a flash. He closed his eyes, tightening his muscles, waiting for sharp zaps coming to rip him apart. He’d done okay. Sure, he’d disobeyed orders, but he hadn’t abandoned Rivkah and that counted for something in his book.

  The air around him buzzed, then shuuushboooom rocked his seat up and down, as if he rode a jackhammer. A starfighter flew by him, leaving him to rock in its wake. Perhaps the Taiyonians were consigning him to the predators down below, like they had with Rivkah.

  Smoke filled the air and his nostrils. The remains of both his and Rivkah’s crafts sent up pointless smoke signals. He sank somewhere between them. Tree branches snapped as his seat hit the top of the canopy. He was alive, but a sitting target. He had no idea where Rivkah was or how he was going to get down.

  Jaxx woke and dripped with sweat.

  Donny hovered over him. For once, he looked genuinely concerned. He handed Jaxx a dry towel.

  “I don’t care what Slade wants,” said Donny. “We can’t go any longer if we want to keep your mind and body healthy. We’ll have to make this a day, Mr. Jaxx.”

  Jaxx lay back on the couch, his pulse elevated. He thought about Rivkah, swinging from a branch on a world millions of miles away. He had to get back. He had to know what had happened next. Slade despised him. Fox hated him. But Rivkah was his friend and he wanted to know he’d done right by her.

  For once, though, Jaxx agreed with Donny. He needed to be in better mental shape before he dove back into his past.

  40

  June 8th

  Underfoot Black, Grenada

  There’s got to be a way out of here.

  Rivkah was in a hotel-like room. Bathroom, small fridge, and a bed. It smelled like a hotel. It was as if this place purchased their items from a Suite Inn, down the street.

  Her room was locked from the outside, something that pissed her off to no end.

  She paced the room, checking the door handle every so often. There would be no more experiments on her and she wanted out; out of her life, if need be.

  She didn’t care if the next person who walked into the room had ten guns or none. She’d fight her way out of this underground facility. If it was Slade, so be it. The asshole used her for something she hadn’t quite figured yet. She was an officer and he was treating her like a piece of shit. She’d been accepted into the Secret Space Program long before he enlisted. Where was his respect? Yes, he had a longer military tenure, but no one knew space, a starfighter, and a cockpit like Rivkah. No one.

  She stopped and put her hands on a short dresser and looked into a mirror attached to the wall. Astounding. Her skin, normal. She’d gotten used to a gargoyle looking out at her from the mirror, whenever she was stupid enough to glance at her own reflection.

  She touched her skin for the hundredth time. Every time, she had to remind herself she wasn’t imagining it. They healed her. But for what? To kill her? It sounded ridiculous. Regardless, her face healed. And if she escaped this plan—no, when she escaped this facility—people wouldn’t stare at her when she walked down the sidewalk on a city street. A new life, a different life, a going-outside life, a talking-to-other-people life. Maybe there was a reason to live, after all.

  Her door clicked and opened.

  Captain Richard Fox entered, two guards behind him. “You’re coming with me. You’re our new expert pilot. No one gives two shits or cares about your being here. You’re to do as you’re told. Understand?”

  “I should have known you were involved. You son of a bitch.”

  She took a swing at him. He caught it without a flinch, but didn’t realize that’s what she hoped. She brought her other hand up and grabbed the hand Fox used to catch her punch and yanked it downward, pulling him to the ground. In the same movement, she flipped over him and kicked both guards, knocking them to the floor. She landed on top of Fox’s back.

  The “Ooomph!” from Fox made her grin. She punched him in the back of the head for good measure. He flopped unconscious.

  Both guards scrambled to rise but Rivkah lurched forward, catching both of their throats in her hands and pinned them to the ground. “You get up, you die.”

  She unstrapped a guard’s rifle and raced down the hall. Then she felt him. Someone familiar. She stopped, her body pulling her down another hall like a magnet to its opposite attraction. She ran next to the wall, pulled, seduced by some unknown force. She crept to a door, slowly turned the knob, and peeked in.

  She gasped.

  There, lying on a couch, was Kaden Jaxx. His eyes closed.

  Another man with glasses sat in a chair by his side.

  Jaxx spoke in a monotone voice.

  Did they experiment on Jaxx as well?

  She clenched her jaw. Screw Jaxx. He deserves it.

  Her intuition ticked up. She was on full alert. Something bad was coming her way.

  In a flash, she ducked as a bullet whizzed by and lodged in the wall, just inches from her head. She turned, laying one bullet in a guard’s forehead, then two more in another guard’s chest.

  More guards rounded the hall.
r />   She had no way out, so she pushed her way into the room.

  The man next to Jaxx stood, hands up, eyes wide. “Don’t shoot.”

  41

  June 8th

  Portland, Oregon

  Drew knew he should switch up his routine. Stop going to the same bagel shop. Leave Portland. But he liked his routine. It grounded him. Also, he kinda-sorta-maybe-a-whole-lot liked the woman who’d been kind to him that first day, when he was starving hungry. Sure, she had a boyfriend, but these things change. Her name was Anyara and she was studying the subtle energies at the Portland School for Chakric Arts.

  “Delicious?” asked Anyara.

  Drew swallowed, thoughts brewing. He hit the royal bucket during his interview with Slade and Connor. But worse. He endangered his mom. He took another bite of her creation, stone-ground rye bread, with a touch of honey.

  “It’s absolutely delicious, right?” she repeated.

  Drew rubbed the back of his neck. “Kinda.” He took another bite.

  “Only kinda?”

  “Sorry, Anyara. It’s fabulous. Melt-in-your-mouth delicious. It’s just that...” He trailed off. Drew’s biggest worry wasn’t if he was being followed, tracked, or if Slade would send a team to end his life.

  No.

  He missed his usual weekly visit with her. He thought that asking her the same questions over and over would get old and tiresome. It didn’t. And now he sent her his phone. Bad move? Good move? He couldn’t help but wonder. Plus, she had Alzheimer’s. Statistically she was in one of the youngest afflicted age groups. What would she do with it other than place it somewhere and then forget? He could punch himself.

  Plus, even if she didn’t know it, she needed him. He kept her ticking. He kept her mind active.

  Or, perhaps, it was that he needed her. She was all he had. She was all that was familiar to him.

  He needed to talk with her now.

  Drew swallowed his last bite.

  “You want to take some of last night’s remains?” She smiled. “For the pigeons?”

  Drew lowered his head, embarrassed to ask for what he really wanted. “Yeah. Can I have some of your brioche?”

  She smiled and pulled a paper bag from under the counter. “One loaf, or two?”

  It was their little joke. He had only the money he made from juggling and he gave most of that to her in tips, so he never bought a whole loaf.

  He gave her a wink, though he hadn’t winked in years.

  “Be careful out there,” she said.

  “I’m always careful. I only juggle in the daytime and only to prime numbers.”

  Anyara shook her head. He was convinced she didn’t know what the hell he was talking about, but it made him feel good when she smiled, so he tried to make her smile whenever she broke away from work, to check in on him.

  He walked around the corner of a building and down a sidewalk. He had ditched his burner phone right after his disastrous interview, so that Slade and his GSA heavies couldn’t track him. Nothing to do but head off to his corner in the park, juggle up some cash, and buy a new burner.

  Half an hour later, he talked to one of the nicely frosted blue-haired ladies who held down the front desk at his mom’s place of residence.

  “Tanner Springs Assisted Living Center. How can I help you?”

  An image of his mom’s pink Tanner Springs sweatshirt popped into his head. He asked for Laura.

  “Just a moment, sir.”

  Drew sat on the sidewalk, gas fumes pummeling him.

  “Hello?”

  Drew coughed. “Hi Mom.”

  “Well, aren’t you a stranger. Drew?”

  “Yes, it’s me,” he replied, grinning. She knew who he was. It had been years since she remembered his voice.

  “Where have you been, young man?” There was a tone. Not anger. She never got angry. No, irritation perhaps. Or frustration.

  “I’m in Portland, Mom.”

  “Is Sir with you?”

  “N...no.” His voice broke, holding back a tear. It was strange. Why would he be so emotional? He had just seen his mom not so long ago, like he always did. And for her to mention his dad, well, who cared? So why all of a sudden did he care? “Dad’s not here.”

  “Are you okay? You sound sad.”

  “Mom, I have something to tell you. I—”

  “Is it about this business in space?”

  He fumbled with the phone. “What? How do you know about that?”

  “I’m watching the news right now.”

  Why did she sound so different? So aware? Something didn’t compute.

  “Did you see me on the TV, Mom?”

  “Yes.”

  “Did you get my package?”

  There was a brief pause, her voice low, almost inaudible. “Do not come here.”

  “Excuse me?”

  She brightened, bouncing back to her usual boppy tone as if she’d never mutter a warning. “Why would I see you on TV?”

  He frowned. “You mentioned you were watching the news.”

  “Who is this?”

  “This is Drew.”

  “My son?”

  He rubbed his eye. Just a glitch in the code. Something repeating, from eons ago, when she was sane and sharp and full of sass. “Yes, Mom. It’s me.”

  “This place is crawling with government operatives.”

  Drew jerked back. “Are you okay, Mom?” She must be repeating words she heard on TV.

  Her voice low, urgent, fast. Also muffled. Drew had the distinct impression that she had her hand over the mouthpiece, so no one could hear her. “Your dad isn’t a good guy. He never was. I’m sorry I left you in the dark, but it was necessary. It was for my survival, but I did this mostly for you to have as normal a life as possible. To keep you safe.”

  “Mom, are you watching a movie?”

  “Drew, is that you?” Back to her normal, space-cadet tone.

  “Yes, Mom. Are you watching a movie?”

  “No, the news is on. Did you see the news? They are showing a guy named Drew Avera on the news. That’s the same name as my son. It’s a re-run. This Drew person is speaking with Colonel Slade Roberson with the Global Safety Administration. Slade is acting nice, but he’s not. Can you believe the Drew Avera on the television has the same name as my son?” She sounded shocked, but there was a theatricality about it.

  If he didn’t know better, his mom did a damned fine job of carrying on two conversations at once. One was with him; calm, informative, sharp; and the other was for the benefit for the people in the home. What did she say? The place was “swarming with operatives?” Could they stoop that low? To spy on his demented mother?

  “Did you know they have found structures on Callisto?” she said. “That’s a moon orbiting Jupiter. They also say that they’ve had this set up for about fifteen years and have galactic ships in place all over the country to take politicians and their families off-world. Did you know that, Drew?”

  “Uh...well...no.” Where was she getting this? What did she mean? The puzzle pieces drew closer together. That would make sense of the equipment he saw underground in Texas. How the hell did she get intel like that? “Are you—”

  “Be careful, Drew. You’re involved with higher than high level officials and a black-ops military with more sophistication and advanced technology than you could dream.”

  “Mom, are—”

  “Is this Drew, my son? How old am I?”

  Drew wiped his brow with his forearm. He perspired, something he’d done quite a lot lately. “Can you get an attendant on the phone?”

  “I’m in no need of an attendant. Thank you, Drew.” She lowered her voice again. So low he almost couldn’t hear her. “Not on the phone, you hear me? Not on the phone. In person. Find a way to get here, without anyone knowing you’re visiting. Have a wonderful day, okay?” She hung up.

  He frantically dialed again. The phone blared a busy signal. He re-dialed. Busy.

  He phoned WNN Chica
go.

  “Hello?”

  “Hobbs? Get me a plane ticket to Charlotte and send it to my masked email address. I’ll print it off at the library.”

  “Drew, that’s not in our contract. We don’t do those things, unless it’s an emergency.”

  “This is an emergency.”

  “What is it?”

  He didn’t want to tell Hobbs his suspicions. If he blurted out the fact that he didn’t think his mother had Alzheimer’s, he might put her in even more danger. It was incredible, what she’d just said. He had to find out how she knew what she knew. He had to get to her.

  “Drew, listen...”

  Drew stood and paced. “No, you listen. I just made you a God damn fortune, not that you needed it, but I put WNN more on the map. You owe me. Get me a ticket or I’ll scream to hell and high water that Hobbs Howell was not going to air this story because you thought that people were too stupid to handle it.”

  “I never said such a thing.”

  He didn’t, or at least not in front of Drew. Didn’t matter. Drew gambled with the truth. “I have you on a phone recording. I record everything.”

  “I never said...” Hobbs hesitated.

  Drew figured Hobbs couldn’t recall when or where, but probably realized that at some point he spoke those words.

  Hobbs sighed. “I’ll get on that. Expect a ticket within an hour. How are you going to get to the airport?”

  “You’re going to get me a taxi. Have him pick me up at the Belmont Library in Southeast Portland.”

  “That’s it?” questioned Hobbs.

  “That’s it.”

  42

  June 8th

  Underfoot Black, Grenada

  Donny seemed as surprised as Jaxx to see Rivkah, when she burst through the door, waving a rifle. The scene that played out was as depressing as predictable. Rivkah fought like a dervish, while the guards piled on and on and on until they had her pinned and subdued. They removed her and no one—not Donny, not Slade, not the guards who escorted Jaxx to and from his bunk—would tell him anything about her whereabouts or condition. He hated them all.