The Complete Atlantis Series, Books 1 - 5: Ascendant Saga

by Ellis, Brandon

  Slade appeared at their side, almost as if he knew they’d been talking.

  “It’s fine,” said Martelle. “He still doesn’t have a clue. The smartest man on Earth and he doesn’t know he’s the key to our future. You’d think they’d teach them common sense, but no. He’s all angles, vectors, and theory.”

  Slade laughed.

  Jaxx stared at one man, then the other, trying, as always, to fit the pieces together.

  “I even threw him a bone,” said Martelle. “Mentioned his name was etched on the pyramid on Callisto.” He slapped Jaxx on the back. “Why didn’t you ask how I know that? You’re incredible.”

  Jaxx’s mouth hung open. The possibilities raged through his head. They were going to a resource-rich moon, possibly inhabited, with the Government, a gaggle of scientists, and the military. Not good, not good at all.

  “We’re just headed for a drink, Slade. Care to join us?” President Craig Martelle flung his arm around Jaxx’s shoulder and steered him towards the bar.

  Destination Atlantis

  Ascendant Saga Book 2

  Prologue

  June 13th

  Star Warden, Second Class Star Carrier

  Secret Space Program

  J-Quadrant, Solar System (Near Jupiter, Callisto Moon Orbit)

  Star Warden’s reverse thrusters slowed the large ship, its engines easing into neutral as she entered Callisto’s orbit. The Second-Class Star Carrier was on a first-class mission: to land on Jupiter’s moon, Callisto, and claim it for the United States.

  Admiral Gentry Race slid his hand over his freshly-shaved chin, a reminder to himself to behave like an admiral. Even though Callisto shaped up as the find of the century, and he’d be the first with boots on the ground, he couldn’t afford to let his excitement show.

  “Executive Officer Bogle…” He faced her. “Have we detected human life down there? Correction, human or ‘other?’”

  Bogle stood to attention. “The starfighters on Callisto appear cutting edge and recent builds, Admiral.”

  Callisto’s pyramids, landing pads, and forested, biospheric translucent dome filled the screen in front of Gentry. If that didn’t pique his curiosity and awe enough, jet-like craft lined up alongside these marvels of ancient engineering. How pyramids or starfighters came to be on Callisto was a question for another day. Today, Gentry wanted to land and plant the flag.

  “According to our scans, Sir, the moon’s a treasure of ores and minerals. Among other resources, we’ve detected crude oil, a subsurface ocean, and underground rivers and lakes. The surface’s electrotonic signatures register crystal and gold. The moon is teeming with underground assets.”

  “You didn’t answer my question, Bogle. Have we detected life forms?”

  “Negative, Sir.”

  “Then whoever assembled this fleet has left?”

  “That is one interpretation, Admiral.”

  “Good,” said Gentry. They could mine Callisto’s resources without resistance. He pointed at an officer near the back of the bridge. “Send a communication to Colonel Slade Roberson.” He grinned. He’d beaten Slade to the punch. “Open communication. ‘Callisto secured’. Close communication.”

  Colonel Slade and Admiral Gentry had served in the Secret Space Program together, for eighteen years, until Slade left to head the so-called 'Global Security Administration' which, in his own words, was tasked with 'securing humanity’s survival'. If the ocean’s rose, as Slade believed they would, and Earth was subjected to yet another Great Inundation, what better than a habitable moon? Though Slade and Gentry were ostensibly on the same side, Gentry was beyond thrilled that he would be first to set foot on Callisto. It would serve Slade right for leaving the SSP for civvy-street. Civilians weren’t suited to space exploration. Best leave that to the professionals.

  “Take us down.”

  “Affirmative.” Bogle's focus glued to the moon’s anomaly’s on the ships wide view screen, she slightly jerked back her head. “Warning, Sir.” She motioned toward the view screen. “We detect movement. Something is emerging from the ground. Whatever it is, is huge. I mean, massive. If I’m not mistaken, they are turrets. Scans report forty-four in total.”

  Gentry glared into the view screen. “Are they targeting us?”

  “Yes, Sir.”

  That caught Gentry by surprise. No contact. No disagreement. No declaration of combat or war. He slapped his console, frustrated. “God dammit. Ready cannons.”

  “Cannons ready.”

  “Do not fire unless they fire at us,” ordered Gentry.

  Bogle scanned her chair’s holographic display for energy anomalies. She didn’t have to look far. There were short pulses of energy, grouped in bursts of eight, emanating from the 'Lady of Atlantis', a statue the size of the Statue of Liberty, also known as 'Princess Leia' to the Secret Space Program. “We’re detecting strong energetic activity from the Princess. Her heat signature is rising.”

  “Zoom in,” said Gentry.

  Bogle brought the statue on the view screen. As Gentry racked focus, Princess Leia changed her transmission, pulsing blues and oranges. Bogle’s fingers raced across her screen, activating audio, visual, binary, every decoder that Gentry imagined she could think of, but her screen kept blinking the same useless result,

  'Code source unknown. Message unreadable'

  “The Princess is transmitting something, but she’s not targeting the turrets. But, it’s not to us, either. Maybe she’s communicating with sub-surface Beings, Sir.”

  Energetic bolts, like balls of electricity, shot from the turrets. They exited Callisto’s thin atmosphere in a hurry, and slammed into Star Warden. The starship buckled under the direct hit, setting off alarms and throwing Gentry on his side. Star Warden reset herself in orbit, groaning like a whale as her port side drives activated to reposition her.

  The overhead light switched from daylight white to ombre red—battle ready.

  “Shields?” Gentry was on his feet, faster than any of his crew.

  “We’re at eighty-two percent,” Bogle replied.

  Another shudder brought Gentry to his knees. “Let’s make rain.”

  “RGSS-2’s online, Sir.” His weapons’ chief was all over making it rain on Callisto. At the touch of a button, RGSS-2—Rail Gun Space-to-Surface Second Generations—popped high velocity projectiles the size of missiles, from Star Warden’s starboard side. They’d prepped for hostile alien encounters and knew how to pound those snot-nose, tentacle-waving, one-eyed monstrosities back into whatever steaming pile of sludge they’d crawled out of. When RGSS-2’s hit, they hit twice as hard as anything else Star Warden, or any Earth-made space craft, had in their arsenal.

  Star Warden rattled as slug after slug ejected out of her barreled cannons, sending a constant vrum vrum vrum through the battery walls to the remainder of the ship. The vibration caught Gentry off guard. He sat in the admiral’s chair and gripped the armrests, knuckles white.

  Bogle brought up the targeted turrets on the view screen. The rail gun could shoot a hundred slugs a minute, but once spent the chambers would be empty until the ship made it to a space armory to load up again. It was a one-time bombardment and always did the trick.

  Until now.

  Callisto’s guns switched targets and blasted the blue electric cannon bolts at the RGSS-2 slugs, turning them to dust on contact. Not a single slug reached Callisto’s surface. For the first time in fleet history, they’d failed to make rain. Now they floated slugless against an enemy that could withstand their heaviest weapons.

  The crew looked to Gentry, who studied the screen. Everything below was at peace again.

  “Fire the plasma cannons. Give ’em all we got.”

  The turrets below wouldn’t be able to incinerate plasma. The PC’s, plasma cannons, weren’t as devastating as the railgun, but they had the advantage better accuracy. It would take longer, but Star Warden would prevail.

  Callisto’s turrets rotated, their cannons extended
and raised, locked onto their target–Star Warden. It had to be a trick of the light, because the muzzles appeared to balloon three-times their original size and what metal was capable of that? Gentry didn’t have time to think it through because in seconds, thousands of electric-bolts burst from the cannon and pounded the Star Carrier. The bridge’s view screen blinked in and out, the bolts zapping needed energy from the carrier’s core, somehow draining the heart of the ship. Gentry jostled in his chair. Sweat dripped from his reddening face, and he leaned forward with a clenched jaw. “Keep firing.”

  Star Warden’s PC’s blasted turret after turret. The turrets exploded into fire blossoms then twisted into melted rubble.

  It counted for squat.

  Once a turret went offline, another turret popped up in its place, shooting volleys at Star Warden.

  Another shutter. “Sir, shields are below fifty percent.” Panic filled Bogle’s eyes, something Gentry had never seen before.

  “That low?”

  “They’re sucking the life energy from our shields.”

  Another hit and Gentry snapped to. For weapons to damage Star Warden like this was unusual, especially from turrets. “Keep targeting and continue to pound them. Lock ballistics on the pyramids. Let’s shut off their grid, render the turrets useless.” He massaged his temple. If their shields went down, they were burnt toast.

  On Callisto, a turret exploded and another popped up next to it, sending more blasts toward Star Warden.

  “A dozen intermediate space to ground ballistic missiles on their way planet-side,” said Bogle.

  Gentry pursed his lips. “Good.”

  One by one, the turrets turned the missiles into useless debris clouds.

  “Fire again.”

  The same results.

  The ship vibrated and Gentry grimaced. “Shields?”

  “Eighteen percent. This isn’t looking good, Admiral.”

  “Why are we losing shields so quickly?”

  Gentry had never seen Star Warden under fifty percent shields, let alone under twenty percent. He furrowed his brow and Star Warden shook again. He let out a shallow breath. Only one logical choice. He gave the order without a shred of emotion, though his guts roiled.

  “Abandon ship.”

  If it had been permitted, he’d have doubled over and vomited all over his own shoes, but there was no time for sentimentality. He needed to get his crew to safety. “Set evacuation procedures immediately.”

  The turret fire from Calisto stopped and quiet filled the bridge.

  Gentry stared straight ahead at the view screen. Callisto’s silence could mean a million different things, but his gut told him it didn’t mean surrender. He was about to do something that galled him, but it was necessary. A good commander knows when to attack and when to retreat. They were outgunned. It was time. “Back us up. We’re heading to the fleet.”

  “Shields regenerating to twenty-one percent,” Bogle said. “We’re doing well.”

  “Did you say well? We got the piss kicked out of us. Another minute and we’d be in our evacuation crafts, watching Star Warden being ripped apart.”

  “Twenty-three percent, now, Admiral.”

  “Thank you.” He stroked his cheek. His eye on a pyramid showing on the screen. Nothing beautiful or special about it, other than it gave off a reading that screamed impossible. It could power New York City.

  Whoever was down on Callisto was more dangerous and more powerful than any race or species he’d ever come across, including his own.

  Gentry’s face hardened and his eyes grew cold. This group on Callisto had to be stopped. In fact, they had to be eliminated. Any race this strong was a direct threat to human survival—to Earth’s survival. He couldn’t turn tail and run. He had to obliterate them.

  He leaned forward. “Ready nuclear heads.”

  Bogle tilted her head. “We can’t do that, Sir.”

  “We can and we will. Launch when ready.”

  Bogle abandoned her post and rushed to Gentry’s side. “There’s an archaeological and resource goldmine down there. Call it off. We’ll come back after we’ve had more time to think about our next action.”

  Gentry crossed his arms. A fire welled in his stomach. “Do not second guess me, Bogle. Launch when ready.”

  “You’ll destroy a resource bed that we could use for eons. And, we don’t know if they’re truly hostile. It could be an automated response. Perhaps we’ve entered a ‘no fly’ zone and the machines are programmed to repel all ships they don’t recognize…”

  “They shot first. That’s hostile enough. Their technology is more advanced than ours, Bogle.”

  A weapons officer chimed in. “Nuclear warhead ready. Keys locked in. All we need is yours, Admiral.”

  Gentry paced to an officer’s station. He typed in a code on the station’s control panel and a small drawer slid outward with a long, thick shining key tucked inside. He grabbed the 'fire control' key and slid it into a keyhole designated 'admiral'. He glanced at two officers standing side by side, their own 'fire control' keys inserted into their designated nuclear launch keyholes. “Fire everything we have as a distraction.”

  The bridge heated up and vibrated as missiles and plasma cannons lit space, and zipped through the Callisto’s atmosphere.

  The Admiral eyed the officers. “Commencing launch in three, two, one...now.”

  They turned their keys simultaneously.

  Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Bogle’s shoulders slump. She needed to grow a set. This was war. The sooner she learned that, the better off she’d be.

  The view screen dimmed, to save the crews eyes from the coming nuclear explosion.

  The warhead wasn’t large, but it was powerful. In ten seconds, a mushroom cloud would erupt on Callisto.

  The turrets on the moon locked onto the warhead the second it left Star Warden. In a flash, the turrets fired in unison, filling the view screen with a blinding white light. The screen then filled with orange and red flames that quickly evaporated in the vacuum of space.

  The warhead was hit close to Star Warden. Too close.

  Gentry watched in horror as the bridge cracked in half. The view screen split down the middle and all the air got sucked into space, along with everything and everyone.

  Bogle reached for Gentry as she spun toward Callisto, and as he catapulted in the opposite direction. Her mouth agape, his probably mimicking hers.

  Star Warden buckled in on itself, explosions blasting holes in its sides, extinguishing seconds after.

  People spilled out of the decimated ship, spinning in space’s cold, oxygen-deprived death grip.

  Gentry’s vision narrowed, blackness crowding in, until he lost sight entirely. His body stiffened as the oxygen drained from his blood.

  His heart stopped.

  His brain shut down.

  Darkness filled him, followed by a flash of light. He was a man among the stars, just as he’d always wanted.

  1

  Starship Atlantis ~ M-Quadrant, Solar System (Near Mars)

  “Aw, shit, did you feel that?” Jaxx pressed his knuckle into his solar plexus. “I’m telling you, Slade, there are forces out here that we know nothing about. Waves, particles, energy frequencies…I’m feeling them right here, in my core.”

  “Quit gawping at the stars. They’ll be here when you get back.” Colonel Slade Roberson nudged Kaden Jaxx’s chair with his boot.

  Jaxx didn’t budge. The stars were so close he could almost grab them by their tails and swing them about his head. He wanted to lie in his chair, staring, forever. The signals he picked up were out of sight. He was a human tuning fork, newly tuned to a cosmic frequency. The songs of his childhood wouldn’t leave him alone. He was Major Tom, on a rocket ship, spinning in space. It was wild.

  “It’s time to come out of your hole, Jaxx.” Slade wasn’t screwing around. Jaxx wondered if the guy ever did.

  Slade had recruited him, back on Earth, to interpret the glyphs found o
n Callisto’s pyramids and—apart from the forced hypnotherapy, the time in the sensory-deprivation tank, being shot at by Slade’s henchman Captain Asshole Fox, the returning memories of his time off-world, and the realization that his life in no way resembled the life he thought he’d built—the job Slade had given him was a dream-come-true.

  In his heart, he wanted to run down the sleek, elegant corridors of Starship Atlantis and into the ops center and take up where he left off, but Slade had been such an unrelenting jerk, he didn’t want to give him the satisfaction. Slade’s organization, the Global Safety Administration, had treated him like a lab rat. And when not a rat, they used him to decode hieroglyphs on pyramids on a Jupiter moon, Callisto. Apparently, he’d done well and now he’d come along for the ride to said moon.

  But, like Jaxx, no one understood Jaxx’s telekinetic abilities other than he had a bigger than normal pineal gland. One that was activated more so than science observed on any human to date. His pineal’s activity margin compared to the rest of humanity was like an Olympic sprinter in a race against a middle school child, Jaxx the Olympian.

  He looked from Slade to the far-off stars outside his window. “No thank you. I’ll give it a pass.”

  Slade returned in kind, dropping his eyelids like a puppy dog. “I understand.” He took a step forward, then kicked Jaxx’s chair. “Get your sad, piece of shit self up and out of that chair, Jaxx,” Slade’s voice boomed. Jaxx didn’t know if it was because of thirty plus years of yelling practice in the military or if this room had a remarkable sound quality to it.

  Jaxx sat up alert, his heart on overdrive. He didn’t take his eyes from the window.

  Slade grabbed Jaxx’s arms, pulling him into a standing position. “Do you want me to kick your ass again?”

  Jaxx huffed, his hand coming to his ID badge clipped to his shirt. “Aye, Colonel.”