Atlantis Quadrilogy - Box Set

by Brandon Ellis

  Jaxx launched several missiles at the Agadon mech’s crotch. Several hit on target, crumbling pieces of armor, hip stabilizer joints, and connecting rods onto his mech’s chest. For a moment, he took his eyes off the steaming, twisted pile of metal standing above him, but only long enough to grab his sword and swing it at the mech’s shin. Screeching metal against metal vibrated through his cockpit along with a resounding clap as Jaxx severed the mech’s lower leg.

  The enemy mech fell to the side and Jaxx rolled his mech out of the way and pushed himself into a standing position. He glared at the fallen mech, sword in his hand, blasters aimed at the downed Agadon.

  The Agadon mech, its midsection melted, wires hanging out, and its lower leg gone, rotated its cannon, blasting an ion charge at Jaxx.

  Jaxx spun, avoiding the blast. He took a powerful step forward, his foot crushing the Agadon mech’s shoulder. Sparks fizzed and curled around Jaxx’s mech’s foot. Jaxx gripped his sword with both hands, lifted it high, and plunged his sword into the mech’s chest. The Agadon mech twitched. All lights in the mech’s cockpit went offline.

  “Fall back!” came Zara.

  “Why?” questioned Jaxx. They had the upper hand. Falling back would be a critical mistake. He took one look at the battle field and saw why. A hundred or so Agadon mech’s were falling from the sky, coming in for a landing.

  “If we don’t get you safely back from where you came from, none of us in this galaxy have a glimmer of hope,” responded Zara. “You must fulfill what you were born to do.”

  “Got it,” replied Jaxx.

  Jaxx and his new friends, or whatever they were, were outnumbered and from the heap of dead Agadon’s and dead Leonian’s scattered across the battlefield.

  These Leonians didn’t have a chance. And if they didn’t have a chance, then him fulfilling the prophecy didn’t have a chance either. Being dead wouldn’t get Jaxx closer to his ultimate goal.

  Jaxx turned, following the racing Leonian mechs, heading for a hill covered with three pyramids. Every so often, a Leonian mech would pick up a handful of running Leonian warriors, cradling them in their arms, and protecting them from incoming fire.

  “Where are we going?” inquired Jaxx, his heart pumping, his adrenaline soaring.

  “Follow us. And pick up some of our troops, will ya’, fuzz face?”

  Jaxx slowed and scooped up a handful of Leonian Warriors who were carrying bamboo rifles and large photon cannons. He brought them in toward his chest, holding them as he’d hold a baby. He took fast strides, pounding footstep upon footstep over the hard earth, passing the burned wheat fields and onto dry grasses and high desert terrain.

  A video popped up on his screen, showing the troops he’d picked up now tapping buttons onto his mech’s chest. Several compartments opened up. They each pulled out metallic clasps connected to thick cable and attached it to the chains that crisscrossed their back. The cable was hooked into the mech, preventing the warriors from plummeting to their death, if they slipped or were somehow thrown from the mech.

  An alert went off. He glanced at another screen in his cockpit.

  “We have incoming,” he informed Zara.

  “I’ve informed your troops and they are already on it,” replied Zara.

  “My troops?”

  “The ones that are in your arms, peachy.”

  Before Jaxx could reply, the gang of troops climbed up his mech’s chest, grasping one hand hold after another, while still being attached to the cables – cables that elongated the farther the troops scaled up his chest.

  And the warriors were fast. One by one they reached his shoulder, got on one knee and aimed their photon cannons at the missiles. Blue flames zipped out of their barrels, the gun’s concussion pushing the warriors backward and into the air, the cable immediately sucking them back into Jaxx’s mech’s arms.

  One missile, two missiles, and then a half a dozen missiles vanished on his screen, downed by the Leonian soldiers.

  “They are still coming.” The hair stood on the back of his neck. It was a primal fear-reaction; something he had no control over. Another half a dozen missiles were heading toward him and hundreds more en-route to the remainder of the retreating Leonian mechs.

  “Yes, we’re not out of this yet,” responded Zara.

  The attackers, the Agadon, were AI with bad programming, according to Zara, and that was all Jaxx knew. Why were they attacking the Leonians in the first place?

  Jaxx’s soldiers trudged their way back up to his shoulder, crouched, and were pushed off the shoulder when their cannons released blue photon blasts. Again, the cables sucked them back into Jaxx’s arms.

  He checked his screen. One by one, the missiles vanished.

  “Damn. They are goo – ”

  A blast dug into the back of a mech running next to him. Armor and fire burst outward and the mech lurched forward. Flames like a tidal wave leapt over the mech’s head. It lost all function and fell forward, it’s legs and arms going limp. The soldiers he was carrying bailed left and right just as the mech went head first into the ground. The soldier’s cut their cords, landing in a somersault and popping immediately to their feet, avoiding secondary blasts exploding from the downed mech.

  Jaxx shifted to the right and, still cradling his warriors in one arm, bent down and put his arm out for the downed mech’s troops. They latched on to his arm and Jaxx brought them in toward his chest, then raced forward toward the hill.

  “Commence opening,” said Zara.

  The ground rumbled, shaking his mech with every step he took. A portion of the hill cracked in half, opening wide, exposing a creamy interior on the inside, with large columns extending to the ceiling, starfighters lined up in the back.

  “Jaxx, head into the opening. We’ll see you when you get there. Out.”

  Jaxx rushed forward, his heat gauge showing the mech was close to overheating. Jaxx assumed most of the mech’s had the same issue as they ran for their lives.

  A beep told him he was wrong. According to his quick, download training he had forgotten one vital component with running a mech. When the gauge was at half the heat it was now, the mech must release heat syncs, which were overloaded batteries that stored heat pressure for the benefit of the mech. If too many batteries were full, the mech was supposed to automatically release a heat sync here and there. And his combat-mech had either malfunctioned or it was being an asshole and refusing to release the heat syncs.

  He pressed a button, manually releasing them.

  Nothing occurred.

  He pressed again.

  Again, nothing.

  “Dammit,” he tapped on his heat gauge. It was nearing red and his mech was slowing, overheating. Yet, he was only a hundred yards from the opening in the hill. “Don’t do this to me.”

  His mech shuddered, then jerked to a halt. The engines whined and smoked rose from the gyros in his hips.

  He pressed the ignition. It didn’t start. He pressed again. His troops looked up at him, worried. He waived his arms, yelling at them to exit, and to leave this soon to be pile of rubble.

  They jumped, cut their cables as they landed, and hurried to the hill.

  Jaxx lifted his hand and popped the cockpit. The warm smoke smacked into his face. He hacked up blackened sputum, while undoing his straps. Just a minute longer and he’d have been toasted inside the cockpit. He stood, taking off the spongy helmet and dropping it on his seat.

  How was he supposed to climb down this machine? There were a few footholds from his mech’s cockpit to its chest, but this time there was no ladder from the last foothold to the ground like there was when he first entered the cockpit. he soon realized that the biggest problem wasn’t the footholds leading down to the ground, or lack-there-of. The biggest problem was the incoming starfighters and mechs coming his way.

  He threw one leg over the cockpit’s exit and slid down to the chest where several cables were hanging, now unattached from the soldiers who had just used them to fle
e.

  Kraaaakah! Kraaaakah!

  Jaxx let out a bark of laughter. “Are you kidding me?!” A barrage of missiles were heading his way. From the looks of things, his life mission of fulfilling the prophecy by fixing and opening the pyramid network correctly to kick the Negative Beings out and bring in the Positive Beings — like he thought he had, but apparently had done the opposite — was now just a pipe dream. He could count the seconds until he turned into a ball of flames.

  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.” He glanced up at Slade who was sitting on a recliner, eyes glaring at Craig, fingers intertwined. “You want a cup, Slade?”

  Slade shook his head.

  Was the guy ever happy? It was stressful job just looking at him.

  Craig’s 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?”

  Slade leaned forward, his brows furrowing, and his face reddening. “What is that, Craig?”

  Craig blew out his cheeks and shook his head. He could tell that somehow Slade knew exactly what those documents were and wasn’t pleased Craig had them.

  Loraine suppressed an irritated huff. “I had your note on my desk several days ago asking me to dig up these files. Don’t you remember? 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. He had no idea what Loraine was talking about. He didn’t leave a note for her but whoever put that note on Loraine’s desk wanted Craig to see something. Perhaps it was 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.

  “You didn’t, what? Finish your sentence,” said Slade, leaning more closely and sitting upright, his elbows now on his knees.

  Craig put up a finger, shutting up Slade so he could think for a moment. Slade and Craig both were in the know about the secret mutiny taking place, but was anyone else keen that the president or Slade knew? Shit, probably. Now he’d have to address the entire government and their families soon. This was going to slow Slade’s and Craig’s plan down. 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. Something would have to come at the stroke of midnight like lies did in the past.

  He sighed. Being in space, there wasn’t a midnight here. Plus, it 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?” asked Loraine.

  Slade stood, taking a few steps toward Craig. “Yeah, Mr. President. Are you okay?”

  Craig eyed Slade like he was a paranoid hack. He took a sip of coffee and feigned a smile. “I’m fine.”

  Loraine dipped her head in acknowledgment. “Okay, Mr. President. Anything else you need?”

  “No, no.”

  She turned and left, the door shutting behind her.

  “Open the file, Craig,” said Slade, looming over Craig’s shoulder.

  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.” Craig 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?”

  Slade laughed and walked back to his chair and took a seat. “That’s old hat.”

  Craig 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 his 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.

  “You about done there, President?” said Slade, irritated.

  Craig looked up, giving him an angry stare, and then 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 our ship?”

  “Because we have idiots as troops, Craig. That’s why.” Slade stood again and pressed the button on Craig’s desk. “Loraine, where did you find this document?”

  Craig shoved away Slade’s hand. No one touches that button but the president.

  “In Jon Shaughnessy’s office. It was almost exactly where that note told me to look.”

  Craig rolled his eyes. “Right.” Shaughnessy sent her that sticky, not Ken or Boz and especially not Craig, but Loraine wasn’t the wiser, thinking the sticky note was given to her by the president.

  Slade nodded. “Shaughnessy is part of the mutiny.” He couldn’t suppress a smile, probably impressed by the little pudgy man’s courage. His smile rapidly dropped. “That son of a bitch.”

  “Why does Shaugnessy want me to know this, Slade?” He leaned back in his chair and tapped his fingers together. “This is shit you didn’t tell me.” He fumed. “Why are you constantly holding back on me?”

  “They are trying to create enemies between you and I.” Slade rubbed his fist with his other hand. He walked toward the door, rage practically seething out of his eyes.

  “Where are you going?”

  Slade put his hand on the door’s control panel. “I’m going to find and kill that mother fucker. He betrayed us.”

  Craig pushed off his desk with his palms and stood, his expression serious. “Not yet, Slade.” To Craig, it would be careless to murder someone under uncontrolled emotions. If you wanted to premeditate a murder, you do just that, plan it out and calmly slit their throat.

  “Yeah?” Slade let go of the control panel and spit in his hand. He rubbed his hands together. “Stop me.” He pressed the door open and hurried down the hall.

  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 closer to East Rise, the city to the east. Perhaps hiding away in Flood of Dawn. Who knew. And right now, Fox didn’t care.

  “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 phaser. “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,” whispered Fox. “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 phaser at the leader. “He –”

  Fox cut her off. “Kajka Okbak, we will tell you what you would like to know as long as you let us go free.”

  “No, we won’t tell him anything,” responded Rivkah.

  “Holster your gun,” demanded Fox.

  Rivkah huffed and placed her phaser back in its holster, then put her hands out, showing 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 he saw her, the real Bogle, hidden among the rocks. She was watching, but he could barely see her but for an arm and a breathing chest, her face camouflaged in a bolder’s shadow.

  Rivkah shook her head. “You son of a bitch. Are you betraying me, just like Bogle did?”

  Fox rolled his eyes at Rivkah, saying between his teeth, “Bogle is a short ways behind you.” He took another, more apparent look at Bogle, then back at Rivkah. Rivkah didn’t get the message. He turned, facing Okbak. “Will you honor my wishes?”