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

by Ellis, Brandon

  Jaxx put his hands up and straightened. He cringed from the vice grip around his skull. What he’d just done—throwing Shaughnessy across the room, lifting the guy with some unknown force and tossing him like a weightless, receding hairline, pudgy pillow—must have sapped him for all he had. He wanted to crawl to the corner, find some blankets, and get some sleep. This is why he didn’t want to use this power. It raged from him out of control.

  Slade popped a piece of gum in his mouth and chewed. “Last chance. With us or against us?”

  Fox stepped through the doorway and halted in a wide stance, fists on his hips, elbows wide. He smiled, his eyes fixed on Jaxx. “Say you’re against us. Just say it.”

  Jaxx put his hands on his knees and shook his head. “I don’t know what to say.” Dammit. It was the only way out. He didn’t know if Slade bluffed. And if he didn’t, Jaxx was a dead man.

  Jaxx took in a deep breath, deeper than normal. Energy ran though him. He took another deep breath, this one more intense. He drew energy from that unknown source, that odd power. In his archaeological studies and in his linguistic career, the word’s prana, chi, and ki had crossed his path on several occasions. They all dealt with the subtle and powerful life-giving forces of the Universe. In a video, he’d seen an old Chinese Tai Chi master run energy. And no matter the strength of a man or the amount of men, they couldn’t move the master from his spot. Or when he watched a Taoist sage set paper on fire with mere energy coming his hands, and the same man punch a chopstick straight through a thick dining table.

  Jaxx wondered if that’s what he suddenly had control over, or better yet, had control over him. Chi. Ki. Prana. Perhaps that energy filled him because of his more-open-than-most pineal gland sucked Chi into him on overdrive. Maybe that’s what tingled through him at most times and gave him these strong, strange abilities.

  Slade walked to Jaxx. He leaned down, his lips close to Jaxx’s ear. “What don’t you know, Jaxx?”

  Jaxx closed his eyes as Slade’s cold, minty breath brushed across his cheek. He wanted to shove Slade away. Jaxx wasn’t violent but he knew that the power that coursed through him was lethal. A power that loathed authority.

  “I said, what don’t you know, Jaxx?” Slade pressed the end of the pistol’s barrel on the back of Jaxx’s head.

  Fox growled. “Just do it, Slade. End it, now.”

  The pistol’s pressure lightened as Slade turned. “Keep your damn mouth shut, Fox.”

  “Not anymore, Slade. Do it,” replied Fox, stepping forward. “You’re compromising this mission by keeping Jaxx alive.”

  Jaxx took another breath, the power rushing through him like a river pouring through a broken dam. He couldn’t believe how calm it made him, how confident.

  “Stay your ground, Fox,” ordered Slade.

  Jaxx squeezed his fists, his breaths coming faster.

  “I’m doing what I wanted to do the day you grabbed him from Peru.” Fox took a few more strides and reached for Slade’s pistol. Fox grasped for the gun, his hands covering Slade’s. The pistol shoved Jaxx’s head forward.

  P-taaff.

  A gunshot went off, the lead bullet lodging into the floor next to Jaxx. He exhaled sharply and turned in a crouch, ready to leap into action and take names.

  He didn’t need to.

  Fox threw Slade to the ground, their hands and arms locked. They wrestled for the pistol’s sole possession. The weapon flung from their grip and slid away. Slade bared his teeth, somehow getting into a standing position.

  He then went low and swiped a kick at Fox’s legs. Fox lost balance and landed on his side. Slade jumped on him, face red. The guy’s temper took hold, took over, and both fought like wild animals.

  Fox kicked, landing a hard foot against Slade’s stomach. Slade rolled away and dove for the pistol. He snatched it into his hand. Fox leaped for him as Slade pulled the trigger.

  “You—” Fox curled into a ball, hands tightly against his stomach. He moaned. “I can’t believe…”

  Slade went to his knees, eyes wide. He frantically placed his hand on top of Fox’s to help stop the bleeding. Gun in his other hand, Slade pointed it at Jaxx. “Don’t just stand there. Get a medic—”

  Before Jaxx could move, Slade stood and lunged at him and grasped Jaxx’s shirt. He shoved Jaxx into a wall and raised the pistol. Jaxx caught Slade’s arm, pushing Slade’s arm in the opposite direction.

  Jaxx’s pent up energy rose from his central nervous system and blasted outward. Slade’s eyes widened, his mouth gaped as a force shoved him backward. The colonel went to get up and Jaxx took a giant step forward, sending a fist against Slade’s chin. The man closed his eyes and landed knocked out on the floor.

  Clattering boots down the corridor pounded in Jaxx’s ears. He spun toward the open doorway. Troops rushed inside.

  Jaxx motioned for them. “Colonel Roberson shot Captain Fox. Hurry. Fox is bleeding out.”

  A few soldiers dashed Fox’s side. Fox’s breaths were shallow, and like Slade and Shaughnessy, his eyes were closed. The difference, his face was pale, his eyelids fluttering.

  A man touched the captain’s neck, feeling for a pulse. “It’s weak and thready, but he’s hanging in there.” More men came in, surrounding the victim.

  Jaxx slipped out of the room, passing several guards. “I’m getting a doctor. Move away, please.” He weaved through a couple more soldiers, barking, “Let me through. Gotta get a doctor. Move it.”

  Jaxx picked up his pace, moving swiftly through the lobby. He kept his head low. He had to stop whatever invasion Slade planned. The discovery of a lifetime, Atlanteans perhaps, but pyramids, domes, obelisks, and other structures from an advanced civilization a definite, and he had to suck it up, and erase that potential from his mind. The wonders of what that society possessed, the new technology he could learn, the hieroglyphs he could translate and acquire information from, he’d have to forgo. For the sake of those inhabiting Callisto, for the sake of everyone on this ship, he had to turn this craft around. But most importantly, for the sake of a potential Solar System war Slade may cause.

  14

  Charlotte, North Carolina ~ Earth

  Drew sat on his porch, the end of the world as he knew it on his mind. “How long are you going to stand there and not say anything?”

  The screen door squeaked open. “Sorry, Sir.” It was the girl. She’d been standing there a while, too afraid to make a noise.

  It was morning and Drew gazed down the road. The streets were bare, unhappy, his neighborhood nearly empty of neighbors who most likely fled this portion of the United States, or the entire east coast. He didn’t know.

  “Mya is your name, right?”

  The girl stood behind him. “Yeah.”

  “How old are you?”

  “Six.”

  Drew patted the ground, asking Mya to take a seat. An abrupt sensation came over him. For a moment, he felt like the father figure he never had. A wall of responsibilities showed its ugly face on the other side of his mind. He pushed it away as fast as he could. Drew sucked at responsibility. The only thing he was good at sucking was a joint. “Where’s your mom?”

  Mya sat next to Drew. “She isn’t awake yet, sir.”

  “Is your Dad in the military?”

  Mya nodded.

  “Do you know how I knew that?”

  The girl shook her head and picked at the ground. The poor kid. Drew imagined she had no idea what was going on, why her life had changed and what was next, where they were headed—if they were headed anywhere.

  “Because you keep calling me, sir.” He pointed to the clouds. “I don’t like to be called sir, because that’s my dad’s name, Slade Isaac Roberson, and when you take his initials, it spells S-I-R, Sir. He’s the reason we have this fu...bad situation at hand. Please don’t call me Sir anymore, okay?”

  “Oh...”

  Mya’s mom pushed open the screen door. Her hair disheveled, her eyes swollen from crying, or lack of sleep
, or both. “They shut off the electricity.”

  Drew slumped. “Those motherfu...mean people. They couldn’t leave it on? They can’t give us people a break before we go insane and start killing each other before the coming apocalypse?” He was kidding—sort of.

  “We need to jet out of here.” For the last few days that Drew had gotten to know her, she was a straight-shooting, no bullshit kind of gal. To the point. Not one of those annoying, ‘I’m going to question the crap out of you until you guess what I’m trying to get at’ type of people. He liked her. “We need a car. Did any of your neighbors leave one around?”

  “I already checked. Nothing.” He glanced over his shoulder. “Camila, why didn’t you tell me your husband was military?”

  Camila pointed down the street. “It doesn’t matter. He knows stuff and told me to take Mya west where it’s safer. That’s where we will eventually go. You can come.”

  Dang it! He almost forgot. He had to go west as well. Anderle, his internet buddy and Converse-wearing genius, who was almost as smart as him—though he blew Drew out of the water in regards to computer smarts—needed Drew in Tennessee. How the hell was he going to get there? No car. No public transportation. And what were they going to do about food and water? He couldn’t trek across country with a woman and two kids.

  Right on cue, the baby started crying. Hunger. They were all hungry. He had only a few scraps of food left. Time to get more.

  Drew bit his lip. Not good. He had to think of something. “Where’s your husband?”

  “The Coast Guard base over in Nags Head.” Camila frowned. “He’s a Marine. He’s been stationed there for what’s coming.”

  “Who would station him there?”

  Camila shrugged her shoulders. “I don’t know who took over the White House or military operations. Whoever it was ordered my husband to guard the beaches. A lot of the military followed suit. Something is—”

  Shhhhkbooom! Bratatat Ratatat Bratatat Ratatat!

  An explosion and the sound of machine guns blared in the distance. Drew stood, prodding the girl to stand. His heart skipped a beat, then pounded against his chest. “Get in the house. We’ll get supplies. I’m guessing we gotta leave.”

  “Do you think it’s them?” asked Mya.

  Camila shoved Mya in the house and Drew followed closely behind.

  “Who’s them?” said Drew.

  Mya turned, her eyes wide and innocent, her lips trembling. “My dad said the cheese are coming.”

  “Chinese,” corrected Drew. He could tell she was more scared for her father than the Chinese. She didn’t want her dad to die. Drew never had that feeling in his life and for a moment, he envied the kid. To have a connection, something tangible with his father was something Drew had always wanted. But his father was a dick. Potentially one of the biggest jerks alive. What lottery number did Drew draw to get so lucky? “Life is effed up.”

  Camila rummaged through the fridge. “What?”

  “Nothing.” Drew pointed to the top edge of the refrigerator. “Remember the first aid kit.”

  Drew ran to his room, grabbing his duffel-bag. He slipped his laptop in it, just in case, then ran back to the fridge, opening it for Camila to dump as much food in there as she could. There wasn’t much.

  “We need flashlights,” she said. “Blankets.”

  Drew opened a kitchen drawer. “Mya, search in here. I’m pretty sure I have a flashlight.” Drew hurried to the door to the garage and threw it open.

  He rifled through his recycle bin, picking up all the empty plastic bottles he had; Gatorade, two water bottles, and an organic orange juice container. That would do.

  He raced into the house and to the sink, washing the bottles out and then filling them up with water. Was it still safe? Was the water plant running? He shrugged. They were going to die of something, some day. Might as well be contaminated water. At least they wouldn’t be thirsty. He tossed them into his bag and Camila dropped a few cans of beans, something Drew didn’t remember ever buying. But everyone had beans.

  “Got the flashlight, Mya?”

  Mya closed the drawer. “Just one.”

  “Does it work?”

  She nodded.

  “Good. Now, go into my room and pull off my blankets. That’s all I got.”

  Jikoooosh!

  The house rumbled and Drew looked at the ceiling.

  “That’s a military jet,” muttered Drew, his hands by his side, dumbfounded. They don’t fly over the city so low.

  Jikoooosh!

  Jikoooosh!

  Two more.

  They ran outside. A jet fighter was chased by two distinctively different looking ones. The one chased was American, the others? Perhaps Chinese. They were black.

  Bratatat Ratatat Bratatat Ratatat!

  Machine guns moved closer, only a couple of blocks away. They had to get going and now.

  Drew picked up the girl. “Let’s go.”

  Camila shouldered the duffel-bag, the baby against her hip. She raised her fist to the east and blew a kiss. “Vuelves vivo, mi alma.” She let out a deep breath, whispering, “I love you.” She spun around and faced Drew. “What’s your plan?”

  “Follow me. Don’t get pissed if this doesn’t work.”

  15

  J-Quadrant, Solar System ~ Callisto

  “Please, sit.” Grenik Star gestured to a seat next to his pilot’s chair. “We’ll head to Flood of Dawn’s Temple Gardens in a moment. Any objections?”

  Bogle took a seat, her arms folded across her belly. She squeezed her stomach to keep as little of herself exposed to this guy as possible. She didn’t know why squeezing her belly would do the trick and keep her safe but she’d done it most of her life, probably to keep her womb shielded from all the young men who looked at her as a beauty prize, someone to show off in front of their friends, rather than the treasure her mom always told her she was.

  She kept her mouth sealed, lips flat. She didn’t have any objections because she didn’t know what objections she should have. By now, everyone on Star Warden was dead. This guy, demon or not, saved her with his ship, Telu Ignis. She owed him her gratitude, not her fear. Nonetheless, her fear crept in. And what if she had objections? Then what? Push her out of the garbage chute and back out into the big, black void?

  “I won’t harm you. I hope you come to understand this fact.” He sat in the pilot’s chair and a holographic display popped up in front of him. He tapped in coordinates and strange letters appeared on the screen. “Hold on.”

  His ship veered right and dipped into the Callisto atmosphere. The ship engulfed in flames and in seconds the re-entry fire died down. Telu Ignis leveled out and a majestic city came into view. They approached the city, skimming over pyramids, domes, and obelisks in the process. Farms dotted the horizon, large and flat, full of corn, sunflowers, and lush ground cover. A hazy energy surrounded the farms, possibly to bring more light and heat to the plants. Robots in the hundreds tended to them, mechanical arms extended, tilling, picking, gathering.

  Grenik pointed to a translucent, glass-like dome that covered a crater. Trees, smaller domes, rivers, and a lake were set deep inside. A small Earth.

  A square door in the glass dome opened, big enough for a Nebula Class Star Cruiser to cross through. But Telu Ignis matched the size of a small transport and would slip through no problem.

  Grenik pressed holographic buttons and Telu Ignis descended sharply. Another small craft, starboard side, flew passed them and through the opening.

  “We’ll meet the Master soon after we dock at the Temple Gardens.”

  That sounded ominous. Bogle shifted in her seat. “The Master?”

  “Our Empress. At least, that’s how you’d classify her, in your vocabulary. We have no such designation. We call her ‘Master’. She is wise beyond years, beyond galaxies. She has led us for thousands of years.”

  “Excuse me?” Bogle raised her eyebrows, tapping the crystal on her chest. “I think this device
frizzled out. Did you say, ‘thousands of years?’”

  His lips tightened. “Yes, thousands of your Earth years.”

  She tapped her crystal again. There was no doubt it had a short.

  Telu Ignis hovered above the Earthen paradise. Bogle leaned forward to get a better view. A tree fort. No, it wasn’t a tree fort. It was too big. Perhaps a home build high and around a tree. It was connected to another home by a wooden suspension bridge. Taking in the expanse, hundreds of homes spread throughout the forest tops, all linked by spindly, rickety bridges. Farther in the distance, dozens of high-rise towers shimmered in crystal and an avalanche of lily-like umbrella houses jostled and tittered on the breeze. Each time Bogle thought her mind had been turned inside out, there was another marvel to take her breath away. She didn’t want to be charmed. She wanted to hang on to her rage. She closed her eyes and sat out the remainder of the flight.

  Grenik lowered the ship. Bogle’s seat bounced when the craft connected to the landing pad. A parade of people in Greek garb assembled around the craft, their voices silent behind the craft’s walls.

  “This is for you, Captain Katherine Bogle. My people come to greet you. We have waited a long time.” Telu Ignis’s ramp hissed open, and clanked when it hit the ground.

  Katherine Bogle, former acting XO of Star Warden, stepped out of the ship that had rescued her from certain death and into a sea of admirers.

  Grenik Star gently pried away admiring fingers and steered Bogle through the crowd.

  16

  M-Quadrant, Solar System ~ Starship Atlantis

  Shots rang as Rivkah pulled herself through the opening at the top of the elevator. Darts zipped by her—geared to stun, or perhaps kill. She didn’t know. She didn’t care. Screw them all.

  She kicked the hatch closed. It broke and it flipped back as darts stuck into the hatch, splitting the air with electrical impulses. One slipped through and sunk into her shoulder, sizzling. Her arm and neck spasmed and convulsed. She pulled the dart out and tossed it, then she fell against the wall as her arm took on a pain of its own. She grabbed her new wound, and grunted, teeth clenched. She figured there would be more wounds before day’s end.