Project Atlantis (Ascendant Chronicles Book 1)

by Brandon Ellis

  It was her. The woman who had been part of his hypnotherapy session. Perhaps the mirror was a screen. Perhaps Slade or Donny were projecting images onto the back of his mirror, just to mess with him. Then again, how would they know the “she” he’d spoken of was Rivkah?

  Her face faded. Jaxx stepped back and tripped over the lip of the bathtub and crashed into it, taking the shower curtain and the rod with him. Wading through the curtain, he pushed up and out of the bathtub to look back in the mirror.

  He saw himself in his boxers, disheveled hair, and shadows under his eyes. It was him, now. His mind was back to normal, or as normal as it could be in a time like this.

  “God, I gotta find a way to get those assholes out of my head.”

  Jaxx turned the bathroom light off and went to bed.

  He covered himself in the sheets and closed his eyes.

  “Help me.” It was Rivkah’s voice again.

  He turned, covering his ears.

  “Help me.”

  He sat up. “Leave me alone.”

  He heard the echo of her voice, like a creeping mist, blanketing his brain. He had to walk this off. It didn’t matter if Captain Richard Bloody Fox was out there or not. In fact, he probably was, especially if Slade said Richard will have his eyes on him at all times.

  He put his clothes on and sauntered out into the hall.

  “What the fuck are you doing, Jaxx? Get your ass back in that room.” Fox was leaning up against the wall across from Jaxx’s door.

  “I can’t sleep. Care to walk with me?”

  He knew the answer before Fox spoke.

  Fox gave a sly grin. “You walk. I’ll follow.”

  “You don’t want to be extra close? Hold hands, perhaps?”

  “Fuck off.” He shoved off the wall and prodded Jaxx to start walking.

  Was Fox just a natural born prick or did Jaxx somehow piss him off? If so, when?

  Who cares. He’s probably just a jerk, trying to use his angry military prowess to intimidate me.

  Jaxx rolled his eyes and walked down the hall, down other hallways, up stairs, down stairs, waving at guards. This was all fine and dandy, but he wasn’t getting lethargic and Fox continued to follow him occasionally speaking gibberish codes in his communication’s device.

  “You about done walking, Mr. Jaxx?”

  Jaxx twisted around and started to walk backwards, facing Fox. “Don’t you ever get tired?”

  “No.”

  “Do you really think I’m a threat? I’m an archaeologist, for crying out loud.”

  Fox bared his teeth. “Then why the fuck did you take the pictures, Jaxx? If I was Slade, you’d still be in the brig.” But we need you.

  “What did you just say?” asked Jaxx, turning down another hallway and passing doors, hoping he wasn’t waking any of the other scientists.

  “I said I’d keep you in the brig, you son of a bitch.”

  “No, after that.”

  Fox stopped, giving him an odd look. “You hearing things, Jaxx?”

  Jaxx stared at Fox. He tried to extend his mind field into Fox’s thoughts, but apparently it didn’t work that way. All he got was some crappy 70’s disco song on a loop. Something about a “starship trooper.”

  “I told Slade not to trust you the moment we took off in the helicopter in Peru,” said Fox. “We don’t take kindly to those who defected from the SSP.”

  “Defected?”

  A voice came over Fox’s radio. “Code one-one-nine. We need you up top, Captain. Code one-one-nine.”

  Fox didn’t hide his irritation. “Get back to your room.” He took off at a fast clip, leaving Jaxx by himself.

  “SSP? Defected? How could I defect from a fictional organization that Slade and Doctor Donny put in my head?” Fox believed it though. You didn’t need to be a mind reader to figure that out. It was written all over his face.

  How could I defect from the SSP? To where?

  He headed back to his room, chewing over what Fox had just said.

  Now, he wanted answers more than ever. Screw the brig. If he was caught, so be it. They’d let him out again. They needed him. There were Beings on Callisto, Beings who perhaps wrote—or better yet—spoke Atlantean. Who else on Earth knew Atlantean? No one. He was safe.

  He jogged to the RIOUT room, making his way to another computer. He turned the screen on, adjusting the brightness as low as his eyes could tolerate.

  He searched the computer’s database for SSP. Nothing came up. He searched under Slade Roberson. Again, nothing spectacular. Next, he searched Richard Fox. Nothing.

  Duh, spell it out, Jaxx.

  He typed in Secret Space Program.

  Zilch.

  This obviously wasn’t the computer he needed.

  He leaned back, scratching his head, catching something peculiar on the screen. The term secret brought up something else, secret syllabary.

  What an odd term. He scrolled down to the “syllabary” and clicked. The file opened up a list of photos, all images from the TECS IV satellite.

  He clicked on a picture dated May 9th, 2018. It was of a hieroglyph in Atlantean writing. It was a closeup, yet he couldn’t see if it was on a pyramid or another structure. It was easy to decipher; water symbol, bird carrying a branch, the sign of the zodiac symbol for the age of Leo, and the winged disk.

  His mind calmed, as if the Atlantean hieroglyphs were the only things in the room, or in life for that matter. Water and the bird carrying the branch was easy. The last great flood. Not the only flood in Earth’s history. His studies had found several great deluges throughout time. This, however, was the most recent. The sign of Leo gave it away. It coincided with the end of the Atlantean era–12,500 years ago–around the time of the last ice age melt. Now, the winged disk was odd. That meant many things in one ornate hieroglyph. The sun passed through the center of the winged disk which represented the sacred gateway into the next age of the Zodiak. The center of the disk, however, wasn’t hollow like it should have been. Instead, it had another circle in the middle, though slightly smaller and pock-marked.

  He clicked out of there and went straight to the internet, typing in Callisto.

  As he suspected and should have remembered from when he first entered Underfoot Black, Callisto was pock-marked. It told Jaxx that the gateway was either Callisto or the gateway landed the Atlanteans on Callisto. Either way, the circle in the middle of the disk was most likely the Jupiter moon.

  The wings of the disk represented flight. Why would they have a gateway to Callisto and then flight?

  That doesn’t make sense. Did they fly to Callisto or use a gateway to get to Callisto? Both? Are there two ways to get to Callisto?

  The symbols confirmed that the Atlanteans created the structures on Callisto during the last great deluge, at least to Jaxx. He slumped in his chair. He was on the cusp of a great discovery, but if he told any of the other scientists on the team, apart from Jon Shaughnessy, they’d laugh him out of the room.

  He went back to the file and clicked on the next image.

  He glanced at the time on the computer’s clock. Only a few more hours until work started.

  He pulled up some more glyphs. A basket with a handle on the right side, a bird looking west, a greeting hand, a sun, and a symbol for water. The hieroglyphs directly below it were the serpent, a bird looking west, and another basket with the handle on the left side.

  If he knew which type of building this was etched on instead of this zoomed in portion of a wall, it would be much easier to figure out, because right now those glyphs didn’t make sense.

  The western bird fills the cup as the hand which greets life lifts the cup to the sun, creating rain. The snake and the western bird reverse the cup.

  That told Jaxx nothing.

  He tried again.

  The western bird. The cup. The hand which greets life. The sun. Water. Then the snake. The western bird again. The cup, though reversed.

  He pinched his lip. The reversed
cup has to mean something.

  He read it backwards.

  The reversed cup delivered by the western bird to the snake.

  The western bird must be Callisto. The snake had to be earth. Wait, maybe these were ancient alien Beings?

  It meant something.

  What if this wasn’t a saying.

  Sometimes hieroglyphs were mere letters. Jaxx decided to spell it out. He gasped, held his breath, then released. “Impossible.”

  He read it again, rubbing absently at his arms. “No fucking way.”

  This couldn’t be a coincidence.

  It read, “Kaden Jaxx.”

  10

  May 26th, 2018

  Charlotte, North Carolina

  It was late night and Drew needed to get things done. A deadline was due and uncle Kaden Jaxx was in need. Which outweighed the other?

  Perhaps he’d hurry through his deadline then finish the investigation on the GSA and this Slade character. Yet, he couldn’t get Slade out of his mind, as if someone had stamped a mental image of the guy in his brain. The little amount he found out about Slade intrigued him a lot more than his deadline for World News Network. In fact, the deadline he had with WNN had been off his mind for a couple of days.

  He grabbed his laptop and sat at his couch, placing his feet on the coffee table, knocking his bong over and spilling water and ashes of burnt weed onto the table. Dirty water mixed with marijuana smoke wasn’t such a nice stench in his living room.

  He rushed to a towel lying on his table, still there since the last spill. He wiped it up quickly.

  He needed an inside bead on this Slade dude.

  He reached for his cell phone. He dialed a number knowing at this hour it would go to voicemail. It was Ann Maddox, his contact at NASA.

  “Hi Ann. I was wondering if you could get me an inside line to someone in the Global Safety Administration? Give me a call when you can.” He was about to hang up, almost forgetting whose number he wanted. “Oh, I’m looking for Colonel Slade Roberson. And while you’re at it, can you look up some information about Terra Energy Corporation for me? I’m sure NASA has a lot more information than I could ever get.”

  He hung up the phone and brought up his email. Drew hadn’t replied to Jaxx’s email. He decided to leave a short, but critical note.

  Hi Jaxx. It’s great to hear from you.

  I’m on it.

  Sincerely,

  Werd

  11

  May 26th, 2018

  Underfoot Black, Grenada

  Jaxx was in his bed staring at the ceiling, something he seemed to be doing more and more often, even though being late to the RIOUT room pissed Slade off maximally. He couldn’t help it. He needed time and space to think.

  The symbols spelled out Kaden Jaxx. He must have read the Atlantean hieroglyphs incorrectly. Plus, the symbol for x was also the symbol for y and z. It was always up to the archaeologist’s interpretation. It could have been Kaden Jayy or Kaden Jazy or the list could go on and on.

  It clearly spelled Kaden, though.

  Why would any Atlantean scribe etch his name in a stone wall, on a moon orbiting Jupiter? He wasn’t important, hadn’t made his mark in the world, wouldn’t amount to a hill of beans according to his physics professor. He was having delusions of grandeur.

  Beings on a colony that was thousands of years old wouldn’t write his name. That was just crazy thinking.

  He’d have to take a second look.

  Jaxx jumped into the shower, scrubbed himself down, and washed his hair. As he was rinsing, he had a crazy flash of inspiration: maybe he would polish his shoes. He laughed. Out loud. For at least a minute. He was losing his damned mind.

  He reached for his towel and let out a yell. He brought his hand back into the shower, looking it over, doing his best to breathe through the sudden shock. He could have sworn someone touched his arm.

  He not only had delusions of grandeur, but he was also manifesting fake ghosts.

  He reached for the towel again, pulling it into the shower and drying off. He slid the curtain open and yelled a second time, slumping against the side wall.

  A woman, black, curly hair, gave him a deathly stare. Then faded away.

  Rivkah?

  It was her. He was sure of it. Why was he hallucinating her again?

  Please don’t tell me this place is haunted. He chuckled. “Don’t psych yourself out, Jaxx.” Everything here was new and stressful. His brain was doing its best to cope with everything thrown at him. Ghosts weren’t real. Telekinesis wasn’t real. The Secret Space Program wasn’t real. Rivkah wasn’t real.

  Get that fake shit out of your mind, Jaxx.

  The only thing real in his life right now was Underfoot Black and the operation.

  He got dressed and headed to the RIOUT room.

  Slade glared at him the second he walked in. “God dammit, Kaden Jaxx. Nice of you to show up.” Slade pointed to Shaughnessy’s station. “Don’t keep Shaughnessy waiting. Help him figure out what he’s looking at.” He pulled out a piece of gum, unwrapped it, and slid it in his mouth.

  Jaxx pressed his elbows to his side, making himself as small as possible. He gave Slade a nod and walked over to Shaughnessy’s station.

  “Hey, man,” said Shaughnessy. He made a sidelong glance toward Slade, keeping his head still. He talked softly, making sure Slade couldn’t hear. “You need to come in on time, my man. It looked like he was crapping his pants pacing the room waiting for you. Plus, you’ll piss off the rest of the scientists here.”

  Jaxx frowned. “I don’t think I could get any more unpopular than I already am.”

  “Yeah, I think you could.” Shaughnessy giggled and tapped on his screen. “Help me with this? This is the size of the Great Pyramid of Giza. It’s the big one on Callisto. What do you think about these glyphs at the base?”

  Jaxx sat at Shaughnessy’s computer station, nudging the tip of his toe on the laptop underneath the desk.

  “Watch it,” came Shaughnessy.

  “Why do you have a laptop under there anyway?” Jaxx questioned.

  Shaughnessy looked behind him, making sure Slade hadn’t heard Jaxx’s question. He rested his hand on the back of Jaxx’s chair, whispering. “I’ve been given the shitty and stressful job of maintaining a backup laptop, just in case Underfoot Black has an emergency evacuation. If it does, this laptop has all the information stored from all the computers in this room.”

  Slade was pacing toward them. “Anyway, back to the size of the Great Pyramid of Giza.”

  Jaxx paused, giving Shaughnessy a double take. “Hold on. Did you say this pyramid on Callisto is the exact size of the Great Pyramid of Giza?”

  “Yeah. It’s a big mother fucker.”

  Jaxx stepped back, eyeing the pyramid. “How do you know it’s the exact size?”

  “We measured the dimensions. It’s identical in size. Of course, it weighs a lot less because of the gravity difference on Callisto. Although, I wouldn’t be surprised if it had the exact number of stones as the Great Pyramid of Giza.”

  “Why would they make it the exact dimensions?”

  Shaughnessy shrugged, half smiling. “You mean why would the Atlanteans give it the exact dimension?”

  Shaughnessy was either making fun of him or was on board with Jaxx’s theory. Either way, he didn’t care. He just wanted to get to the truth.

  Jaxx cleared his throat. “I’m not one hundred percent positive that the Atlanteans made these structures on Callisto, but if they did, I’d love to know why they’d make a duplicate of the Great Pyramid of Giza.”

  Shaughnessy rubbed his hands together. “Why?”

  “I mean, how many more clues can they give us?”

  “Clues that they are Atlantean?”

  Jaxx cocked his head to the side. “Whether the people who built this specific pyramid on Callisto were Atlantean or not isn’t what I am getting at. What I’m getting at is that the people who created this pyramid were from Eart
h and not from another system or planet altogether.” Jaxx gestured toward the screen. “They are giving us clue after clue.”

  Shaughnessy put out his hands, shaking his head. “Uh...can you enlighten me, Atlantis boy?”

  Jaxx shot him a look, then sagged in his chair. Atlantis boy? That must be my nickname. Could be worse. “How many days does it take for Earth to orbit the sun?”

  “365 days.”

  “Almost – but in actuality Earth orbits the sun in 365.24 days, not just 365 days. That’s why we have a leap year. Now, bear with me on this as I explain what I’m getting at here.”

  Shaughnessy gave Jaxx a look, a look Jaxx had seen many times. It said, “don’t geek out on me, dude. Just cut to the damned chase.” It didn’t matter. Jaxx needed Shaughnessy to understand the ins and outs of his theory. He needed to geek out on the details, big time. He took another deep breath and launched into his lecture.

  “The Atlanteans worked with sacred geometry, something lost to our modern-day science. Sacred geometry ascribes symbolic or sacred universal patterns in the design of reality, including mathematics and geometric shapes. That’s how they were able to create the pyramids in pi and phi ratio and sequences, along with creating perfect Pythagorean triangles within these pyramids. No structure on Earth comes close to the way the great pyramids were built. In fact, the blocks they were created from are cut at 1/100th of absolute geometric and mathematical perfection.

  “Everything the Atlanteans did with the creation of pyramids had a reason. And we can see this with this pyramid on Callisto, if it truly is in exact dimension and proportion as the Great Pyramid of Giza. When you measure the Great Pyramid of Giza, you’ll find that all four walls are a total of 36,524 inches in length. 36,524 inches in length correlates with 365.24 days of earth’s orbit around the sun. This is a hint that the Beings who created this pyramid on Callisto were from Earth and not someplace else.”

  Shaughnessy scratched his chin. “I see. Jupiter and Callisto don’t have the same orbit as Earth. It takes years for Jupiter to do a full orbit around the sun. This is conclusive evidence for you, though?”