Ascendant Saga Collection: Sci-Fi Fantasy Techno Thriller

by Brandon Ellis

  “Why was Mya on the screen?”

  “Tā shì shénme?” said a bulky Chinese man in a camouflage uniform and cap. He strode up the aisle, past dead screens and gaping hackers. He walked swiftly by Drew and opened the double doors. “Chūqù!”

  Drew shrugged, obeying, and walked outside. The doors shut and Drew stood staring. Why was he ushered out so quickly, even after mentioning Anderle’s name?

  Jefferson Kennedy, the new President of the United States, walked around the corner with a smile on his face, looking presidential in his perfectly ironed and US flag tie. He started doing the robot, a dance almost everyone knew, singing the national anthem at the same time.

  “What the…” Drew stopped in his tracks. It had never occurred to him that the holographic president had a flesh-and-bones counterpart.

  Anderle came into view, mimicking everything Jefferson Kennedy was doing, singing along with the fake President.

  “Hey Drew,” said Anderle and the President at the exact same time. “What I say, what I do, what I dance...so does Mr. Jefferson Kennedy here.”

  Jefferson blinked out and dissipated into nothingness. Another hologram.

  Drew squinted. He hardly knew Anderle anymore. What was he doing making a hologram dance? He had always been a couple of slices short of a loaf, but been so brilliant Drew had overlooked his kookiness? Or was it new, this off-the-wall routine? He knew he had to tread lightly to get what he wanted. “Dude, I used your name and they still kicked me out.”

  Anderle shrugged but didn’t make eye contact. A sure sign he was hiding something.

  “Man, if you need me to be compliant, I need answers. If I’m going to represent you and your…” he wanted to call it a ‘Screwed Up Regime’ but he caught himself. “You catch more flies with honey.” Wasn’t that what Mom always said? He smiled, doing his best to look relaxed and on board. “If I’m going to represent your new powerhouse to the United States, I need to understand where we’re headed, what the plan is?”

  Anderle’s smile said there was a plan and he was busting to tell someone about it.

  Drew faked his very best, loose, stoner smile; one he knew Anderle liked. They’d gotten baked enough times for his old bud to recognize that he was chill. Drew waited. And waited. He didn’t let his smile drop. Just a moment longer and Anderle would crack.

  Anderle fidgeted with his shorts. “Listen buddy, General Yu doesn’t want anyone going in there, especially me. And you went in there even though I asked you to see me, not the IT room.” He looked away.

  “I thought this was your command, Anderle?”

  “Yeah…” Anderle shoved his hands in his pockets. “We’re trying to get the Chinese army to turn on their president. Apparently, I screwed it up by spying on the general himself, hacking his computer files. They have some high-end filters, I tell you. I did not see those trip wires and you know me, I see every electronic thing there is to see…”

  “Dude…that sucks…” Drew wanted to keep Anderle talking. Flattering the guy had always worked in the past.

  “That tight-ass general will get over it. If he doesn’t, well...” Anderle fingered his throat, moving it slowly in a cutting motion.

  Drew pulled Anderle’s hand down. “They might be watching.”

  “I’m in control, Drew. Don’t you worry your little face, bro.”

  Drew doubted it. In the years that he had known him, Anderle had never threatened him like he had the other day. Someone was pulling the strings and it wasn’t Anderle.

  “It’s all cool.” Anderle offered Drew a piece of candy.

  He shook his head. He leaned in close and whispered. “What about Mya?”

  Anderele nodded, excited. “She’s our bait.”

  The puzzle pieces fell into place. They were tracking an asset across the states. Drew took a leap, hoping he’d put it together accurately. “For Arecibo?”

  “Yeah….” Anderle was pumped. “Once we corner Arecibo, game over, man.”

  “He’s her father, right?” said Drew.

  “You bet your ass he’s her father. The man has us in a bind and won’t comply with our efforts to take down the Chinese president. Mya’s father is running the military like he’s the president.” He pulled Drew down the hall towards the oval office. “I’m the president.”

  “About Mya.”

  “Mya, shmya.” They reached the oval office and Anderle’s hand rested on the door handle.

  “You can’t use her as bait, man,” said Drew. “I’m not going to put a little girl on death row like this. You’re in charge, get her out. Get me out.”

  “No can do, brother. No. Can. Do.”

  “But who is he? Why does he even matter? He’s just a soldier…”

  “Like I said, he’s compromising the mission. The guy knows too much, knows my plans, and has been cutting off communication with my Chinese allies. The same allies who are trying to cut the Chinese president’s nuts off.”

  “Doesn’t he know you’re on the same side?”

  Anderle paused, twisting his hand around the doorknob, letting the lock click and click and click.

  Drew caught his tell. “You’re not on the same side. You’re on your side.”

  “Mya will help get him on our side. And on second thought, I have another idea.” Anderle let go of the door and pulled his cell phone out of his pocket, beckoning Drew to follow him down the hall.

  Drew stuck his foot in the closing door. He racked his brains. There was something he couldn’t quite put his finger on. Mya was special, sure. She had powers only movie characters had. Was that why they were keeping her under lock and key? Was the story about her father just a ruse? Drew didn’t like it when the facts didn’t add up. Unadded facts got under his skin and once that happened, he never let go.

  Anderle stopped in mid-stride and wiggled the phone in his hand. “Come on. I want to show you how bad-ass of a portrait photographer I am.”

  Drew stood in the doorway. “Dude, can I have a piece of candy?” Had the guy even noticed he was propping the door to the oval office open or was he too self-absorbed to let a tiny detail like national security impinge on whatever madness he had planned for the next ten minutes?

  Anderle dug into his pants pocket and tossed a piece of candy at Drew. He turned and started to dance walk down the hall.

  Drew caught it, unwrapped it, and put it in his mouth. He rubbed the peppermint candy while it was in his mouth, getting the stickiness on his fingers, then went to shut the oval office doors.

  Drew wiped his fingers on the plastic wrapper, then rolled it up, and stuck it in the door’s lock jamb. He twisted the doorknob’s lock and shut the door, making sure the wrapper halted the latch bolt from going in more than a few centimeters into the strike hole, allowing him to slip anything between the face plate and the door jamb to easily open it if needed. When he needed to. And tonight, he’d get his butt back in here.

  Anderle was still practicing his dance moves, oblivious.

  10

  Edge of M-Quadrant, Nearing Jupiter - Starship Atlantis

  Senator Ken Furr waved his hand over the holographic keyboard. The holocomputer snapped on, the desk forming a screen in front of him.

  TELEGRAM… TELEGRAM… TELEGRAM... flashed on the screen.

  “I’ve never seen anything like this.”

  “Ken, can we get back to the movie?” asked his wife.

  He glanced over his shoulder and frowned, the movie on pause, the love seat less one person—himself. “Excuse me, dear. Give me a second. This is urgent.”

  He tapped on the words and a holovid flashed before him, showing scene after scene, communication after communication. Slade Roberson and President Martelle were chatting it up with Fleet Admiral Lon Vernadore of the Secret Space Program.

  Ken leaned back in his chair and watched the dialogue for several minutes.

  “We need you to go over the battle plan, Colonel,” said Lon, clenching his jaw.

  “We dro
p in west and south of the city, away from their turrets,” responded Slade.

  Lon spoke through gritted teeth. “Look, Colonel. The inhabitants of Callisto blasted Star Warden—one of the biggest and most fortified ships in our fleet—out of the sky in less than a half an hour. How do we know they don’t have more turrets west and south of the city?”

  Craig chimed in. “The reconnaissance ship we sent out earlier located the turrets east and north of the city. There’s nothing west or south. Confirmed.”

  “You sent a reconnaissance ship without telling me?”

  “It was before you arrived, Fleet Admiral,” replied Slade. “Get your head wrapped around this, Lon. We are attacking Callisto with your Secret Space Program squadrons and troops. We can keep you as head honcho or Craig here can take over.”

  Lon eyed the president. “You good with your colleague’s plan, Mr. President?”

  Craig dipped his head. “I am.”

  Lon’s face contorted, his lips quivering in anger. “Then it’s done. We commence drills starting today. We’ll invade four days ahead of your scheduled landing on Callisto. We’ll wipe them clean and off the face of that moon. Out.”

  The holographic monitor blipped off and Ken’s shoulder’s drooped. His back spasmed. Poor posture led to maximal pain. He straightened in his chair and rubbed his eyes. This couldn’t be happening. This wasn’t true. It had to be a joke.

  He was a man of principal. A man who despised war and every political act that sparked deadly conflict. His heart stirred and his eyes glistened, tears welling up, not of sadness, but of fury for Craig’s and Slade’s plan to commit genocide under the noses of the very people who’d ushered them into power.

  This wasn’t a trek to the stars for humanity to invade and kill other races and worlds. That’s not why he had signed up. He signed up under a lie, a pretense that they were traveling to a currently-uninhabited moon, to setup shop so the rest of humanity could ultimately join them and they could all, collectively, avoid the inevitable climate disaster heading Earth’s way. That was the bill of goods President Martelle had sold them. And it had been a pack of lies from start to finish. His gut rolled, acid threatening to eat its way up his gullet.

  “What was that, Ken?” His wife looked as lovely as the day they’d first met. Her arm was draped over the back of the love seat, but it was her eyes that caught him every time. They told him he was loved, respected, and treasured and always would be. He could stare into those pools of love forever.

  Her lips turned down and she straightened her shawl over her shoulders. “Hon, why are you crying?”

  Ken wiped his cheek, not realizing a few tears had escaped. He dismissed her with the dip of his head. He never dismissed her.

  He clicked the comm line. “Bring up Governor Boz Brown, please.”

  “Boz here. What’s up, Ken?”

  “Assemble all politicians in the auditorium. We have an emergency meeting straight away. Do not invite the President or the Colonel Slade Roberson.”

  Ken swiped his badge on Starship Atlantis’s auxiliary engine’s room control panel. The door slid open. The sound of metal against metal screeched across the gigantic room, wheels turning on wheels, and impulse reactors inside long tubes spat lightning against the tube’s glass, splattering electric blue light against the walls.

  A woman, with grease smeared across her forehead, goggles too big for her face, and a white, dirty uniform came forward with a wrench in her hand. “Can I help you, Sir?”

  “I’m Senator Ken—”

  “I know who you are. Can I help you?”

  “Here.” He handed her a folded piece of paper.

  She read it over and glanced up at the Senator, then took another glance at the letter. She shook her head in disdain. “Hell no. Not happening.”

  “I can force you to turn everything off. But, all I’m asking is for you to slow the ship down.”

  “That will take us away from our set ETA.” She wiped her cheek, pressing her tongue into the side of her bottom lip, giving him the stink eye. “This ain’t happening, no matter who you are. The orders come from the top. You ain’t the top, man.” She handed him back the letter.

  “I’m the top man now.” He whistled and a gang of troops, rifles up, marched into the bay. “You do what we ask or we apprehend you and everyone else in this room.”

  A guy walked up, greasy, disheveled hair, smelling of cigarette smoke, and wearing goggles also too big for his head. He took his goggles off. “I’m the chief here. No one turns these engines off but by the skin off my back.”

  “Arrest him,” ordered Ken.

  The guy moved backwards, hands up. “Get your measly paws off of me...”

  The guards pushed him against the wall and tripped him to the floor, slapping cuffs on his wrists.

  They cuffed the woman and hurried her out the room. Her screams of injustice echoed through the hall.

  They pulled the chief to his feet.

  Several of his workers were there, eyes wide, wondering what the hell just happened.

  Ken pointed at them. “Tell them to slow this ship. If they don’t, we’ll do it ourselves.”

  Blood trickled down the chief’s forehead. He jutted his chin out, trembling with anger. He spat on the floor, his eyes cold. It looked like he wanted to rip every one of these intruder’s throats out. “To what speed?”

  “Half of what we’re doing now.”

  “Uncuff me.”

  Ken’s lips tightened. “Not until you give that order.”

  “The hell I will. This is a mutiny.”

  “Take him to the brig,” said Ken.

  The guards pushed the chief through the doorway and down the hall. Ken watched as they left with still a dozen troops standing next to him.

  “Workers, listen up!” he shouted. “From orders higher than the president, we’re taking this flying boat to half the speed we’re at now. Do you understand? If you don’t, you’ll have to answer to my friends here.” He patted a guard’s shoulder, then walked out of the room. John Shaughnessy, physicist and the second-best interpreter of alien languages and artifacts, was on his mind.

  11

  Edge of M-Quadrant, Nearing Jupiter - Starship Atlantis

  Slade rushed the punching bag and took a swing, punishing it. He’d taken the entire government, heading them straight for a new world. No, it wasn’t a world. It was a moon.

  He went into a roundhouse kick, breaking the bag off its chain. It fell to the floor, dust popping up like a cloud. Slade planted his feet, driving his knee into the middle of the bag. This bag was Jaxx and Rivkah all rolled into one and he reared back for an elbow to the top of it. He wanted to rip the punching bag apart.

  “Stop,” yelled Andrea Cross, a doctor he’d found to replace Doctor Donny, the wise-old man who accidentally took friendly fire during the riot in their underground base, back on Earth. The guy had been a genius, but Andrea Cross was smarter and more enthused with Slade’s ideas and especially this experiment he was currently conducting...on himself.

  Slade stepped back, taking a deep breath. “Why?”

  She marched over to a display monitor, studied it, tapped something on her holographic data pad, then went to the next monitor, repeating the same steps. She shook her head. “No different.”

  Slade dropped his chin, anger rising in his chest. “So, Jaxx’s blood is no good? It doesn’t work on me?”

  Andrea shrugged.

  They’d taken Jaxx’s blood—which had given other subjects super-powers—and injected it into Slade, yet Slade felt the same. No difference with movement, power, or speed.

  “I don’t give up that easily, Slade. We’re missing something. Maybe we shouldn’t have mixed Rivkah’s blood in.”

  “Then find what we’re missing, doctor. Mixing the vials should have made me more powerful. I’ve spent the last two days working my ass off without the results we’re looking for.”

  “Results don’t always come right away,
Colonel. You may expect the impossible with the snap of your fingers, but I’m patient.” Andrea tapped her fingernail against her teeth, thinking out loud. “What does Jaxx do before he exhibits his power?”

  Slade shrugged. “Bring up the cameras in my admiral quarters and reverse the loop. The recording will show he kicked Shaughnessy’s and Fox’s ass. Mine, too. You’ll see how he threw me and Shaughnessy across the room. That—”

  The door to the examination lab slid open.

  Slade swung around, irritated at the sudden intrusion. A flash of adrenaline rose without control. His body convulsed and his head whipped back as a sharp energy leapt from his chest and toward the door.

  Craig stood there, his arms by his side, nonchalant until he was picked up off the ground and thrown backward. He flailed his arms before he hit a wall, yelping like a whipped dog, then slid down, landing squarely on his ass, his eyes like saucers.

  “Holy shit,” said Slade, tripping and falling, landing on his side. The energy that left him had a recoil to it.

  Andrea rushed to Slade’s side, placing both hands on his slippery skin, his body scorching hot. She pulled her hands back. “It’s your emotions. Your emotions are the switch that will power…well…your new powers. That’s what we’ll start working with.”

  “What the hell was that?” said Craig, cringing and rubbing the back of his head as he got to his feet.

  Slade and Andrea looked at each other, keeping their faces as straight and tight as their mouths.

  Craig’s nostrils flared. “What the hell is going on here?” Rage filled his eyes like fire in a wood stove. “You better tell me or I swear I’ll throw you both behind bars right now.”

  “We’re testing a wavelength weapon, invisible to the naked eye,” replied Slade, keeping his eyes centered on Craig’s.

  Craig’s gaze swept across the room. “I see no weapon.”

  “In the computers, Mr. President. It’s a frequency emitting—”