A mess of folders popped up. That meant they were high priority or at least something Anderle had recently worked on. If they meant something to Anderle, then they meant something to Drew.
He read over folder after folder until he saw it. The guy was trying to hide it, but Drew could see right through Anderle’s attempt. A folder named Seraph was sitting right there for the clicking.
Maybe this was it. Maybe this was his goldmine.
He double clicked and the file opened.
Target 1-1.
Target 1-2.
Target 1-3.
Portal.
Mission Reports.
And, Status Reports.
He clicked on Target 1-1.
A man in a United States military uniform, definitely Latino, was pictured next to a Jeep, talking to some troops. An insignia with three stripes up, three stripes down, and cross rifles in the center was on his sleeve.
He was important; the one in charge. Drew could tell.
He clicked on Target 1-2.
The same man, though this one closer up, too close, as if they—whoever they were—had been on a stakeout just outside this guy’s bunker or base.
He pulled up Target 1-3. This one was in black and white, the name Angel Segarra underneath it.
“Bingo.”
He was in the right file.
He double clicked Mission Reports.
A file full of dated documents opened and Drew leaned forward, placing his elbow on the desk, his chin in his hand, and read the latest one—labeled two days ago:
Jefferson Kennedy, President of the United States, Lookout Mountain, Tennessee
Dear President Kennedy,
Attached to this email are more pictures of the man in question, Target: Master Sargent (E-8) Angel Segarra. The daughter is more powerful around him and without her, our world is doomed, meaning our mission will fail. Several attempts to capture this man have been compromised.
We need his daughter, Mya. That is our best way to get Segarra into your custody.
Keep in mind that the US Marines under Angel Segarra are growing in numbers, coming together from around the country. They are setting up operations, getting more organized, and are becoming more aware of the anomalies forming above the pyramids around the globe. Our goal is to scramble these Marines, take his daughter, and use her to bring him to you, President Kennedy.
Be notified that Mya’s mother and son have been eliminated.
Mya and Drew Avera are on their way. Intercept when necessary.
Sincerely,
2nd Lieutenant Zhu Ling
People’s Republic of China Army
Drew threw his hand to his mouth. “Oh, no.” He had unintentionally led Mya to this bunker. He rubbed his eyes to get his mind straight and when he calmed, he read over the letter again.
What the heck are these anomalies forming over the pyramids?
He clicked and exited from the letter. Next, he clicked on Portal. It held two dozen videos. He clicked the first one.
A man speaking in a dialect Drew couldn’t understand was filming the Great Pyramid of Giza with his phone. The sand was stirring around it like a tornado. The sky above was black. Storm clouds gathered. Thunder shook the ground.
The man panned to the clouds, screaming. The clouds spiraled and parted and a massive, black, diamond-shape ship came through, lightning striking against it, sending brilliant flashes across the sky.
The man dropped his phone on the sand. There was an explosion, off screen. The video ended.
Drew stared at the screen, unblinking, trying to put two and two together. Was this another faked video from Anderle? If it wasn’t, then what the hell was that thing?
He clicked on another video. A newscaster stood in front of a step pyramid, his hair blowing wildly, mic in his hand, speaking a language Drew couldn’t identify. He pointed to the sky. The same black clouds materialized, thunder clacking. The clouds split apart and a mess of strange-looking humanoids descended feet first from the sky, fire blasting out of their feet.
The camera zoomed in on one of them. It wasn’t a human. It was a machine, perhaps a robot. Cannons were mounted on its shoulders, guns attached to its forearms. It dropped quickly, landing on the pyramid’s flat top.
Its cannon turned, targeting the cameraman. A blue bolt launched from the cannon and the video ended.
Drew clicked on more videos and by the time he had finished half a dozen, he jumped up and turned off the computer. An invasion? “A damn, no shit invasion?”
Aliens?
Evil extraterrestrials?
It wasn’t just the Chinese invading the United States. Some type of ET’s were invading the entire world. Anderle, that unremitting slime bucket, hadn’t said a damned word.
16
Edge of M-Quadrant, Nearing Jupiter - Starship Atlantis
Craig sat at his desk and pushed away papers he’d been mulling over. “Loraine, bring in some coffee, please? I’m dying here.”
His presidential suite door opened and Loraine held a cup of coffee in her hand, a folder in the other. “Was already on it. Here you go, Mr. President.”
He took the coffee and placed it on his desk. “Thank you.”
She dropped the folder next to the steaming mug. “The files you asked for.”
He picked it up, blinking in confusion. “What’s this?”
She suppressed an irritated huff. “I had your note on my desk several days ago asking me to dig up these files. It took me some time to find them, but I think I got them all. It was creepy snooping around like that. How did you get his room’s access code?”
“I didn’t—” he stopped himself. Whoever put that note on Loraine’s desk wanted him to see something. Perhaps Senator Ken Furr or Governor Boz Brown—the nitwits who always wanted the slow route to get things done and frowned upon war or military conflict. But why didn’t they come to him themselves?
Craig hadn’t been in his room since letting Slade know about the mutiny less than a half hour ago. He’d have to address the entire government and their families soon. He’d conjure up some lie to keep the peace on the ship, to cool the senators’ and governors’ boiling blood, but what lie he’d give them to gain their trust, he didn’t yet know. Nothing had come to him at the stroke of midnight like lies did in the past, maybe because there wasn’t a midnight in space.
He sighed. Being in space was different than the extravagant, well-appointed, fully-staffed homes he was used to living in. The beauty and splendor of his former life had provided such inspiration. Space was cramping his style.
“Are you okay, Mr. President?”
He took a sip of coffee and feigned a smile. “I don’t know what I’d do without you, Loraine. Thank you for everything.”
“My pleasure, Mr. President. Anything else you need?”
“No, no.”
She turned and left, the door shutting behind her.
He opened the file. Inside was a bound document titled, Kaden Jaxx: Top Secret. He turned to the table of contents.
“These are all experiments.” He licked his finger and turned another page, reading through several more pages. The more he read, the more his shoulders knotted, and his blood pressure rose. “Jaxx isn’t human?”
He stopped, pressing his finger on a single paragraph, reading it over and over. If the document was to be believed, Jaxx was a ninety percent Atlantean, ten percent human, with DNA that allowed him unearthly powers and reflexes. But what was more important, Jaxx had been trained to be a one-man wrecking crew. So, this is what the Secret Space Program trained Jaxx for? As a weapon? He kept reading. Jaxx was a very particular kind of weapon, built for space combat and keyed into Atlantean wavelengths that the SSP couldn’t decode. They needed him on ice until they reached Callisto.
Craig stopped for a moment, trying to let the explosive data sink in and the puzzle pieces find their home. This is why they’d wiped Jaxx’s memory and shuffled him back into society? The tech the SSP
had employed, to keep Jaxx’s powers, and any memory of who he was or what he’d done with the space program, from him, was out of this world. Craig snorted at his own joke, then gathered himself. This was serious business. The SSP had trained a warrior, then switched him off until he was needed.
Craig returned to the document. He was almost done but given that there were information bombs on every page, he knew he couldn’t do his usual 'skip to the end and rely on the cliff notes' move. He had to read every word.
This guy, Jaxx, was known all over the universe as a half-breed, feared by all warring races. Jaxx was the Secret Space Program's secret weapon, the key to a network of pyramids that spanned the galaxy. His DNA sequence was calibrated in a way that could open the pyramids. Jaxx was a damn pyramid-opening, weaponized alien.
Craig shook his head. “Why, in the name of all that’s holy, did we let him escape?” He pressed the button on his desk again. “Loraine, where did you find this document?”
“In Jon Shaughnessy’s office, almost exactly where you told me to look.”
He rolled his eyes. “Right.” Shaughnessy sent her that sticky, not Ken or Boz.
“Why does Shaughnessy want me to know this?” He leaned back in his chair and tapped his fingers together. “And why is Slade constantly holding back on me?”
He pressed the button. “Tell Colonel Slade Roberson to meet me in my suite, ASAP.”
“Yes, Mr. President.”
17
J-Quadrant, Solar System - Flood of Dawn, Callisto
The dome sizzled with electricity around Fox and Rivkah. Another Bogle stood in front of the dome. Or, in other words, another Zompawan. The real Bogle was someplace on Callisto, maybe over in East Rise, the city to the east. Perhaps hiding away in Flood of Dawn. Who knew.
“Omka oovka jana,” said the leader of the Kelhoon squad.
“Kajka Okbak wants you to know that you are in mortal danger,” said the Bogle look-alike.
Fox holstered his weapon. “Holster your gun, Rivkah.”
Rivkah threw dirt at Okbak, only to have it repel against the translucent dome and crackle at her feet, as if the dirt had been on a hot grill for a half an hour. “Tell your Zompawan slave that—”
Fox grabbed her arm and brought his lips close to her ear. “That’s the leader,” he whispered. “Holster your Goddamn gun if you want to live through this.”
Rivkah swung her arm free from Fox’s grip. “Yes, I know who he is, shit for brains.” She pointed her pistol at the leader. “He—”
Fox cut her off. “Kajka Okbak, we’ll tell you what you’d like to know as long as you let us go free.”
Rivkah’s insides squeezed. “No, we won’t tell him anything.”
“Holster you gun,” demanded Fox.
Rivkah huffed and pushed her weapon in its holster. She put her hands out to show the green lizard-heads that she was cooperating.
Okbak gave an animated laugh, then wiggled his finger at Fox. “Koovja no shikagoj’n leshkwo, hija kogma.”
“Kajka Okbak would like you to know that he likes you. You are not loyal to the human race, which makes you a king among kings,” said the Zompawan.”
Rivkah stepped back. “What are you doing, Fox?”
He looked over his shoulder, mouthing, “Trust me.”
Then she saw her, the real Bogle, hidden among the rocks. Bogle was watching, but Rivkah could barely see her but for an arm and a breathing chest, her face camouflaged in a boulder’s shadow.
Fox saw her too, saying between his teeth, “Bogle is a short ways behind you.” He turned, facing Okbak. “Will you honor my wishes?”
Okbak slammed his fist into his chest. “Goovmajga hoombaka.”
The dome disintegrated and Fox extended his hand to Rivkah. “We have our own race to turn against.”
Rivkah slowly shook her head. “Never.” She stepped back a few more steps. “Why are you doing this? You call me a traitor? Jaxx a traitor? Look at you now, cowering in fear to a bunch of scaly skins.” She spit at his feet. “Bite me.”
“Oomka jivashka, monja,” grumbled Okbak.
“Kajka Okbak wants you to know that he will only take one of you. The other will die,” said the Zompawan.
“I don’t need a translator, Okbak.” Fox looked at his gun and fidgeted with it for a moment. The Kelhoon readied their guns, grunting unintelligible sounds.
Fox lowered his weapon. “Whoa, whoa lizard-breaths. This gun isn’t for you. It’s for my friend here.”
Rivkah went for her gun. It wasn’t there.
Fox tapped another gun in his holster. “Here’s your gun, sweety-pie. Now, run.” He pointed his weapon at her.
Rivkah’s eyes grew wide and she brought up every emotion she could think of, ready to pound some energy into Fox.
Fox pulled the trigger and a zap went across her chest and her hands unconsciously rose, touching the pain spreading into her torso. She let out a yelp and fell back hard on the rocky terrain. She convulsed, her arms and legs spasming against her will, her heart palpating at a rhythm she’d never experienced before.
She went to take a breath, but it wouldn’t come. It was stuck, as if the blast that went into her chest had blocked her airways.
The guy just up and killed her. He got the upper hand on her twice in one day. She had to at least give him that. He did what he always wanted to do, end her shitty life. In truth, it was for the best—better for rest of the galaxy. How many more people would she let down in her short existence?
She eyed the purple, blue sky, the beautiful turquoises, tans, and yellowish-reds of Jupiter shone like a sun down upon her, giving her a warmth she knew she didn’t deserve.
Worst off, she was speechless. All the words she wanted to throw out at Fox, that piece of junk, wouldn’t come out, wouldn’t rise to the surface.
She went to take another breath and this one came, but lethargy came with it. The death sleep, the body’s acceptance of death. It was starting, and for some reason all she wanted to do was hold Fox’s hand, anyone’s hand. Jaxx’s hand most of all. Where was he? Why wasn’t he here with her, holding her? She didn’t want to die alone. She didn’t want the last moments of her life to be uncared for, unloved.
It didn’t matter. No one was here for her. They never were and it wasn’t anyone’s fault but her own. She failed in life, and in death as well.
Rivkah’s eyelids became heavy, tired. She was too tired. Her eyelids shut.
Rivkah took one last breath before everything faded to black.
18
Leonia, Canis Major - Galactic Arm, Milky Way Galaxy
The incoming missiles were seconds away. Jaxx jumped, gripping the cable, then loosened his grip to slide down the outside of his own mech. The mech lurched back as one explosion, and another, battered against it, and fire erupted inside Jaxx’s mech’s missile batteries, recoiling the mech. Another missile hit the mech’s shoulder, twisting it around, whipping Jaxx like a slingshot.
He lost his grip and flailed through the air. He kicked his legs and arms, his body doing a somersault he wasn’t expecting or wanting, and he crashed onto the dirt laden ground.
He tumbled over brush and rock, smacking against a small tree. He grunted and got to his knees, the smell of burning metal filling the air.
“Look what we have here,” said a Leonian, the same one he first met—the old, wise-sounding man. He extended his hand.
Jaxx took it.
The Leonian lifted him, then put Jaxx over his shoulder in a fireman’s carry.
“Here we go. Time to get you inside.” The Leonian took off at an amazing pace, moving his legs as fast as he could, the entrance to the base inside the hill coming closer and closer. The pyramids atop the hill were shining, probably some of the few that hadn’t been damaged by the Agadon invasion.
Entering the hill, the wise-lion made a whistling sound. Immediately, the opening in the hill’s side began to close, the ground rumbling beneath them.
The
Leonian set Jaxx on his feet.
Jaxx’s mech toppled to the ground, a secondary explosion taking its arm clean off.
The Agadon were moving swiftly toward their position.
The hill closed and lights flickered on.
Starfighters and combat-mechs lined the back of the built-in bunker, gigantic ships were off to the side, also in lines. The hill was ginormous, much larger inside than it appeared from the outside.
“You are brave, young one.” The Leonian patted Jaxx on the back. “You were the last one outside and you saved our pride troops. They owe you their lives.”
“They don’t owe him a lion’s mane,” said Zara, stepping between Jaxx and the old lion. “He brought this carnage. He brought this wrath upon us.”
“He didn’t bring nothing to no one. It wasn’t Jaxx’s fault. You stick to your blame-game, Zara, and the only thing that will come crumbling down will be you.”
Jaxx shifted in his stance. “Why aren’t you two talking? I can hear you, but your lips aren’t moving.”
Zara shook her head. “You see? This peach-fuzz brain only just figured out we don’t speak. He is dumb. Worthless.”
The wise-lion bowed to Jaxx. “My name is Abdu. We’re telepathic Beings. You move your lips, saying some type of gibberish, but we get what you’re saying through the thoughts forming your words. Telepathy is the true universal language.”
“Then how can I hear you?” inquired Jaxx.
Abdu gave Zara a satisfied look, his thick brows rising. “You see this Jaxx is much smarter than you think. He’s obviously open to our communication and has been since he first arrived.”
A thunderous sound rang inside the facility and everyone ducked. The lights blinked off and on, and dust fell from the high ceiling.
“What do we do?” asked Jaxx.
Zara unclipped a red vial from her chains. “We drink up.” She downed it in several seconds. “We then leave our home world. It’s dead, gone, taken over and soon to be ravaged and sucked of all life by the Agadon magic-makers.” She growled and marched off toward hundreds of mechs.
Ascendant Saga Collection: Sci-Fi Fantasy Techno Thriller Page 57