Ascendant Saga Collection: Sci-Fi Fantasy Techno Thriller

by Brandon Ellis

  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 gap. Did she fall through that fog? How? She glanced around, coughing more. Lights everywhere. To her left, a flight console 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, 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 Kaden Jaxx home.”

  10

  M-Quadrant, Solar System - Starship Atlantis

  Rivkah dropped from the vent and into a small cupboard. She waited for ten whole minutes before jimmying the latch and easing the door open. The room, which wasn’t large, was dominated by a work table. In the center of the table, there was titanium armored suit.

  She felt him, before she saw him. He must have heard her when she was in the ductwork, because he hadn’t made a sound and had managed to sneak up behind her. She spun about to face the asshole before he could get a drop on her.

  He licked his lips. “Hi, Rivkah.”

  Rivkah pointed the stun rifle at the man. He was thick, almost a foot and a half taller than her, a scar across his cheek. “Who are you?”

  He put his hands up and walked closer. “Put that down, Rivkah.”

  “Step any closer and your head turns into a bloody mess. You’ll be dead before you hit the ground.” She stepped forward, tightness in her eyes. “Or, keep coming. I don’t care.” She aimed at his head.

  He knew she wasn’t joking. This was Rivkah. She didn’t know what a joke was. He stopped. “Well?” He cocked his head toward the titanium suit. “Aren’t you going to apologize?”

  She glanced at the suit then back at the man. “SA Nick Cole?”

  “You guessed it. You really screwed up my suit, Riv. You owe me an apology.”

  Screw that. Rivkah Ravenwood apologized to no one. “How did you get on this ship?”

  He tapped his temple. “My helmet was un-fazed, so I was able to track Slade on Grenada and convince him to take me along for the ride. Then we came after you and that traitor Jaxx. You see, I’m quite handy.” He dropped his hands and leaned back against the table. “I was like a gift dropped straight from heaven for our Slade pal.” He grinned. “And, sorry about your head.”

  She went to touch the back of her head, still slightly throbbing. He did this? No. It was Slade. She saw his face before she blacked out. Or, maybe it wasn’t; just a figment of her imagination. It didn’t matter. “Where is the launch bay?”

  “Why? You planning on running again? Flying your ass out of here?”

  Rivkah didn’t respond because he was right. One minutes she could be out of her and so long ship, so long Jaxx, so long everyone who screwed with her life.

  Cole laughed. “The same old Rivkah. When you’re not doing so well, you quit and run. Run to your little Jaxx boyfriend?” He mimicked running with his index finger and middle finger. “Is that what your daddy told you to do when he learned you joined the military? To run away if you get in any trouble? He didn’t want your sweet ass to get a scratch, to burn like you did?”

  Whoopa.

  Rivkah pulled the trigger, the stun dart sizzling past his head.

  Cole instinctively ducked, though the shot was wide on purpose.

  He stood and turned. The dart sparked in the thick, metallic wall. “You didn’t like that, did you?” He straightened and gave her sarcastically innocent eyes. “Daddy issues?”

  Her heart hardened and she bit her cheek. Blood trickled into her mouth. “Either tell me where the launch bay is or you’re a sizzling pile of human flesh in a matter of milliseconds.”

  He leaned back against the table again. He slipped a tool in his hand. He shook his head. “Rivkah, you’re so violent. And that’s a stun weapon. How about—” He threw the tool at her, his reflexes fast. But she saw it coming. She dodged and pulled the trigger. Cole ducked and rushed her.

  She shot again and Cole rolled, sweeping Rivkah’s legs out from under her. She lost grip of her gun and flipped onto her back. The stun rifle flew out of her hand, clanked loudly against the floor, slid across the room and hit the wall.

  He came down with a fist at her throat. A kill punch. She caught it and squeezed, then kicked him away. With her new Jaxx-power-strength, she hung onto his fist like a hook in a fish, even after he jerked back from her foot’s impact into his stomach. She pulled him down as she leaped, her head against his chin.

  He crashed against the table, his titanium suit tumbling against the ground. Metal against metal echoed in the room and Rivkah ran over to her weapon, taking aim but he was gone.

  The table was on its side; the only place he could hide. She held her rifle out and rounded the table with caution. She’d just put a few darts in his chest and be on her way.

  “Don’t shoot, Rivkah. Please. I’ll tell you where the Launch Bay is.”

  Yes, he was behind the table.

  “What deck?” She knew he wouldn’t tell her. He was the type of soldier that would rather die than divulge anything to an enemy, even if the enemy only needed to know where the toilet paper was.

  She came around. Blood oozed out of his mouth. He held a few teeth in his hand. “Nice, Rivkah. I respect a woman who can kick some ass.”

  She pointed the rifle at him. “Why aren’t you on Star Warden? I’m sure Slade would have let you leave this ship and find your way back up Admiral Gentry’s ass.”

  He started to stand, then Rivkah shot a dart at his feet.

  He stood anyway, wiping the blood from his lips. “It’s DAWD.” DAWD was a Secret Space Program term for 'Dead as a White Dwarf'.

  She jerked back, shocked to hear that a Star Carrier, let alone Star Warden, had been blown out of the cosmos.

  Like a flash, Cole snatched his titanium suit and bull rushed Rivkah.

  Rivkah jumped back, firing several shots, the dart’s electrical output sending shocks through Cole’s hands and down his wrists. He held on, pushing forward, pummeling Rivkah, smashing her between the suit and the wall.

  All the emotions trickled from her heart and through her body. She failed again and she was so damn tired of failing, on the losing end of every stick. She crouched and lunged into the suit. “Enough.”

  Cole was thrown back into the table, the titanium suit hitting against the ceiling and then the floor.

  She fixed him in her sight, the stun rifle against her shoulder, her finger on the trigger. “Bye, bye, Cole.” She pulled the trigger over and over. Too many bolts and the guy would never get up again, like a death sentence in an electric chair. She made sure to sink too many bolts, and watched the evil bastard’s life drain into the next.

  11

  J-Quadrant, Solar System - Callisto

  Bogle awoke on a hard floor. The smell of roses wafting in the air. The Being loomed. He wore a long piece of white fabric like the ancient Greeks wore, held in place by hefty pin at t
he shoulder and a futuristic belt full of colorful buttons around its waist. A rose in his hand, he extended it to her.

  She shook her head and slapped the rose out of his hand. It was a trap, a trick, a way to get her to let down her guard. It was the devil’s work, tempting her with simple beauty. She didn’t want the thorns of death anywhere near her.

  He reached into his tunic and pulled out a purple hexagonal crystal about the size of a quarter. He crouched, touched his chest with the crystal, then pointed at her.

  Her stomach clenched. What did he want? Was he going to incinerate her with a flipping crystal?

  He touched his helmet. The air hissed as if a seal unlocked. Then he slipped the helmet off. Definitely a man. Sandy-blond hair, gleaming blue eyes, the guy had a short mustache and beard. He was healthy. Beyond healthy. His skin glowed and he moved fluidly.

  He held out the crystal with one hand, pointing to her chest with the other. He spoke, his tone strong, “Locus de pectore.”

  Bogle’s wrinkled her brow. “I don’t understand.”

  Soft beeps came from the bridge. Computer-like holographic displays were set back into what appeared to be a large cockpit. The cockpit window was just above the displays, and the remnants of Star Warden floated in the distance in front of Jupiter. The planet’s tan-glow lit the dark void all around.

  Her stomach jumped to her throat and she vomited again, remembering the dying, spinning men and women sucked out of the Star Carrier. Everyone, dead. No doubt in her mind. But her status was up in the air. Was she dead or alive? This must be hell, or some weird afterlife she wanted no part of. She needed to be strong; to keep the faith.

  The man narrowed his eyes; his brows down in concentration. “Locus de pectore.”

  She shook her head and wiped the vomit from her lips. “I don’t—”

  He leaned forward, quickly placing the crystal on her chest, right up against her sternum. A sharp sting pricked at her. She yelped, then relaxed as a calm vibration moved up her neck and into her brain.

  “I wanted you to place the crystallo fabrica on your chest,” he said. “But as we have little time, I took the forward step and placed it for you. I hope you forgive my intrusion.”

  She scooted backwards, surprised she understood him. At a safe distance, she stopped. “Wha… who… ?”

  He smiled and touched his heart, pulling down his cloth to reveal his bare chest. The same type of crystal was attached to him. “A crystallo fabrica energetically connects into your heart and to the superior temporal gyrus of your brain—your communication area. There it rewires your synapses, allowing my communication to become your communication, and vice versa. As you can see, my voice is my voice, but my lips aren’t moving in sync with the words you hear.”

  She touched her chest and pressed on the crystal. It gave her energy, vital life. She was just as afraid of keeping it on as she was of taking it off. No longer did she think he was a demon. She was immersed in peace, in calm. Maybe that’s what demons do, how they draw you in and take your soul—with trust.

  She scrunched her face and pulled away. “Where am I?”

  “You’re on my craft, Telu Ignis. I was able to save your life. Any later and you’d have died.” He spoke matter of factually, though with a tone of compassion.

  “Who are you?”

  He pounded his chest, one warrior to another. He stood straight, proud. “In my language, I am Stellam Matu, in service to the Law of One and to all Beings across the Galaxy. In your language, I am Grenik Star.”

  She touched her chest, her palm against the crystal. “I’m—”

  “I know who you are, Katherine Bogle. Welcome to Atlantis Alta. I’ll be taking you to my home city, Aurora Diluv. Or in your words, Flood of Dawn. We’ve been waiting a long time for you. You will guide Kaden Jaxx and the others home.”

  12

  M-Quadrant, Solar System - Starship Atlantis

  Rivkah pulled the trigger twice. Two guards hit the floor, their arms and legs twitching like maniacs.

  “Piece of shit rifle,” she said under her breath, wishing her weapon had a kill function.

  She pulled the trigger again. “Idiots. Never learn, eh?” She downed another guard that ran into the room, trying to be the lone hero of the group. If they kept this up, the guards would pile up at the door, twitching out of commission, lying on top of each other and trapping her inside. She knew that would never happen, but the way these grunts were trained, anything was possible.

  A rubber bullet ricocheted off a wall and to the floor, zinging past Rivkah. She ducked and rolled to another wall. Getting on one knee, she aimed her gun at the doorway. A misconception about rubber bullets were that they don’t kill. From Rivkah’s experience, they maintain a ship’s structure well without poking holes, and do kill at these current dialed up speeds.

  A guard poked his gun through the entrance, his fingers were exposed.

  Rivkah spoke in a whisper. “There you go. You’re learning. You don’t just run into the scene of a battle.” She felt the trigger against her finger and pulled.

  “Agh!” the man dropped the gun and most likely writhed on the hallway floor outside.

  A grunt’s heavy boots shook the floor behind her. Stunned how he snuck inside, she turned to see a soldier in a full out run. Weaponless, she quickly identified him as someone she’d sent to the floor in convulsions earlier, now semi-recovered. Earlier, she’d also bent his arm to the side, broken. His other arm dislocated. He attempted to bulrush her with his shoulder, pain racking his face from his previous run-in with her.

  She jumped as he dove at her. His head skimmed the bottom of her feet as she pulled her knees toward her chest and grasped the rafter above. She pulled herself onto the cold metal with one hand, the rifle in her other. He stopped short of a wall and gazed up just as a shot of electric stun charges lit him up.

  “I’m also a good aim, you prick,” said Rivkah.

  He sunk to the floor, eyes closed, slobber dribbling out of his mouth.

  She hopped onto a beam parallel with the top of the door frame and directed her rifle at the door, taking cautious, slow steps. Once directly above the door, she crouched, ready for more guards to burst through. If they were smart, they’d stand pat out of harm’s way and wait her out. Rivkah smiled. That wasn’t true. If they were smart, they’d be as far away from Rivkah as possible. The best bet? Back on Earth, on their couches, eating ice-cream while watching Firefly reruns.

  And, as if on cue, a few dumb-asses ran inside, rifles in steady position—their rifle’s hand guards resting on the 'V' of their thumb and forefingers, the rifle butts firmly against their firing shoulders. Yes, they were trained to hold a weapon, but anyone could train a donkey to hold an apple in its mouth.

  She jumped off the rafter, and elbowed a soldier in the chin. He fell into another guard and Rivkah pushed him forward, making sure he connected with his comrade. Shots rang out from inside the room and Rivkah bolted down the corridor, their shots barely missing her, rubber bullets cracking off the walls, denting the metal.

  Across the way stood an open elevator beginning to close. Rivkah dashed toward the elevator and lunged forward. She managed to slip her wrist between the doors, and they opened in a hurry. She hurried inside and pressed deck four’s button. In most starships, the launch bay was located on that deck.

  She leaned against the wall and eyed digitized deck numbers as the elevator ascended. She breathed heavily, her face dotted with sweat.

  Deck 7.

  Deck 6.

  Deck 5.

  The elevator shuddered and halted. The doors closed, she was somewhere between deck five and four. She tapped deck four and 'OUT OF SERVICE' blinked on the digitized display. They stopped the elevator.

  She pushed the butt of her rifle against the emergency exit hatch in the elevator’s ceiling. It jostled. Locked. She hit it a second time. No give.

  “Give it more elbow grease, Riv,” she told herself.

  She twis
ted the rifle in her hand and smashed the butt against the emergency hatch again. The hatch loosened. She grit her teeth and grunted, forcing her will through the rifle as she slammed it square in the hatch’s center. The lock broke, the hatch opened.

  A picture of Jaxx—his eyes closed, but more like in meditation—flashed across her mind. Her hands were laid over his and the two of them pressed hard, though she couldn’t see what it was they touched.

  A ding and the elevator doors slid open. Rivkah’s eyes shot wide. She wasn’t between floors. She was at deck four. In front of her, a man in military fatigues, gun leveled. Rivkah leaped, grabbing the hatch’s frame and lifted her legs, her rifle dropping out of her hands just as the grunt’s shots rang out.

  13

  M-Quadrant, Solar System - Starship Atlantis

  “You son of a bitch, Jaxx. I keep putting trust in you and you keep shitting all over it.” Slade holstered his weapon and crossed his arms. He stood over an unconscious Shaughnessy. Fox crowded the doorway with a smirk on his face.

  “And look what you did to my quarters.” Slade motioned around the room. The Lectern was off its track, toppled over and spitting sparks. Paintings were off the wall, their frames broken, and in pieces on the floor.

  “I saw it, Slade. I know what you’re up to.” Jaxx rested his palms on his knees, catching his breath.

  Slade tilted his head to the side. “What in God’s name are you talking about, Jaxx?”

  Jaxx pointed to the downed Lectern, perspiration dripping from his forehead, his arm almost too heavy to lift. He was weak, drained, and having a hard time catching his breath. “I saw a Star Carrier cut in half. People spilled out. And yet, you’re still going to Callisto? Turn this ship around.”

  “Let me deal with this,” said Fox.