Celestial Ascension (Splintered Galaxy Book 1)

by Eddie R. Hicks

  Noylarlie grinned. “Really? Like a slave?”

  “Whatever you wish—slave, bodyguard. You will own his life and do whatever you want with it.” Y’lin elegantly walked back to her throne to sit as her telekinetics were used to deactivate and remove Noylarlie’s collar.

  The sensation was great. Noylarlie was finally truly free…except for one last thing. Noylarlie’s hand extended forward toward Abraxin. He levitated off the ground as a result. The two soldiers stepped away. Noylarlie could tell by their body language that fear and deep caution were manifesting within them. They were smart to back off. “Owner of his life?” Noylarlie asked.

  “Indeed,” Y’lin confirmed.

  Noylarlie focused her psionic power toward Abraxin’s head, slowly ripping the skin from his face. His screams of terror filled the room, so she forced his mouth shut. She then psionically twisted his head around and around, causing his neck and throat to grind and break apart. Shortly afterward his head popped off from his body, and his headless corpse fell to the ground as Noylarlie released her telekinetic death grip.

  “As owner of his life,” Noylarlie said, “I decided his wasn’t worth having around.”

  Y’lin smiled. “Do you have a title?”

  “No, I don’t.”

  “You will be atoning for your mother’s mistakes, so how about Atonement?”

  “Better than nothing.”

  “Very well then, from this day forth, you are Noylarlie Atonement, Archmage of the Hashmedai Empire.” Y’lin clapped her hands at the soldiers. “Show her to her new room…and clean up that mess, please.”

  After Noylarlie left, Y’lin continued to sit at her throne, telepathically receiving reports from across the empire from psionic agents and Archmages. The elevator door swung open, and a small figure stepped forth. “Mother, did I miss meeting the new Archmage?”

  Y’lin put her status reports on hold, focusing her attention on her young beautiful daughter. “I’m sorry, Kroshka. She left a few minutes ago to get herself set up.”

  Chapter 4

  A small village on the outskirts of Afghanistan became the place of interest for a Black Hawk helicopter carrying members of SEAL Team Six, which was on a covert CIA mission to deal with a new threat to the free world. The Sons of Islam, or SOI as they were called on news reports, had been making major progress in terror attacks in this region. Yet they had such a small number of members, which was expected to grow by the end of the year.

  Normally a predator drone would be sent after a small group such as this, and that would be the end of them. SOI, however, posed a unique threat, one never encountered before. What the media hadn’t reported on was how their attacks were carried out. People who were shot had no bullet wounds, as the weapons SOI used didn’t fire bullets. All victims had large holes burned right through them, and cars that got hit by their weapons’ fire had sections straight-up melted off. Some people were even cut in half with an object that seemed to be burning hot.

  Oh, there was more—bullets bounced off a few SOI members, and some of them walked in direct line of fire, making no attempt whatsoever to take cover. Whatever protective gear they were using was highly advanced, more advanced than anything anyone in the world was using, and that had people in the White House…disturbed.

  The mission was simple—get in, take out hostile forces, obtain samples of their equipment, and capture their leader alive if possible, as he had some explaining to do. Not much was known about him, only that he was known as “the Wise Man” and showed up in this area months ago, and suddenly SOI became an issue. There was no doubt in the minds of the folks at the CIA that he was the reason these terrorists had these weapons. The real question was, where did the weapons come from? And were they interested in sharing said weapons with the United States?

  The helicopter quickly approached its target—a small farm. Intel suggested SOI was camping out here and making preparations for their next move. Petty Officer First Class Chris Boyd took one last gaze at the Afghan sky before donning his night-vision equipment. Like all Navy SEALs, he was in top shape—years of playing football helped out with that. He was a black man, about six foot five in height, with short hair and clean-shaven. Dressed in typical military camo and armed with a silenced HK416, he stood alongside five other members of his team with a similar equipment layout—Keys, Glover, Roberts, Victor, and Cortez.

  It was go time! They all leaped from the helicopter as it got close enough to the surface. With their weapons extended forward, they moved in on the small shack in front of them. Keys ordered Boyd, Roberts, and Glover to take point and move toward the front door. Keys and Victor were to check the back, make sure nobody snuck out. Well, that was the plan until two men of Middle-Eastern descent kicked down the front to greet them with their bellowing weapon.

  Boyd took cover behind a nearby broken-down car. What’s the worst that could happen? It could melt and become useless cover—that’s what. Bolts of green energy shot out from the SOI member’s weapon, hitting the car Boyd took cover behind. After a few hot blasts, the side of it glowed red-hot and broke apart. Terrible idea.

  Roberts returned fire. He didn’t hit them, but they backed off and took cover inside. Guess the rumors of them being invincible weren’t quite correct, Chris thought. The action turned to the front door as all six soldiers charged over to it, taking cover by the front walls of the shack. Boyd and Glover stood next to the door—Boyd on the left, Glover on the right. They were greeted by a light show of green and white energy. The light from these blasts lit up their night vision, almost blinding them.

  Both returned fire while an SOI fighter stood at the top of the stairs leading to the upper level. He went prone and aimed at the wall where everyone else was taking cover. Before he could fire, Boyd placed two shots through his head, blood and brain matter splashing on the wall behind him.

  The SEALs team moved on, taking cover behind furniture, and another enemy combatant emerged. On his left arm was a rectangular device with flashing lights and in his right hand was another strange energy weapon. He walked slowly toward the SEAL team, randomly shooting. He made no attempt to take cover. Keys discovered why as he got up and fired four shots at the enemy’s chest. The terrorist simply raised his left arm up and watched as the bullets hit a blue force field protecting him.

  With his cover blown, Keys retreated, while the others provided covering fire. The shielded terrorist kept his arm up, deflecting all fire at him. Chris’s eyes took note of a large square shape forming in front of their target as the bullets hit. It covered him from head to toe—nothing behind him, perfect.

  “Frag out!” Chris yelled as he tossed a well-placed grenade behind the shielded adversary. It went off, sending the terrorist and what remained of his legs flying toward them.

  The six made an aggressive search of the lower level, confirming no further contacts. The object that had been strapped to the shielded terrorist caught Chris’s attention, and he reached down to pick it up. Not the smartest idea as it could be booby-trapped, but a gut feeling told him it might come in handy sooner rather than later.

  A breach and search of the three rooms on the second floor began with Keys kicking in the first door. The first room contained nothing but some equipment and the second room nothing except a hostile target carrying a weapon that resembled a long sword. Chris’s eyes took a second look, as the sword heated up through some kind of strange energy being fed into the blades. His observation had to be put on hold when the terrorist leaped at him and aimed the sword at his face. Chris reacted by lifting his left arm up—the same shield he encountered earlier now protected him as the sword hit it.

  The terrorist continued to push down toward Chris with his sword while the shield continued to hold just long enough for Glover to take aim and shoot. The sword-wielding terrorist fell to the ground with a single bullet hole through the side of his head.

  “You OK?” asked Keys.

  “Yeah,” Chris replied, looking at the
device that had just saved his life.

  Keys breached the last door to reveal the presence of a thin man sitting on a bed. His hands were already in the air. The team entered, all pointing their rifles at him.

  “Stay where you are!” Keys demanded. The man complied with no hesitation.

  This must be the Wise Man, Chris thought. He was an average-size man, no taller than five foot five, with pale white skin, platinum-blond hair, and wearing shades. It was not the look of atypical terrorist group leader, that was for damn sure.

  He spoke. “I’m sure you have a great many questions to ask.” Chris took notice of his strange accent. “Will be happy to answer them all.”

  ………

  Chloe and Pierre stumbled into Pierre’s hotel room in the heart of New York City, their alcohol-fueled steps guiding them forward…and then facedown to the floor. A perfect end to an evening of fine dining followed by downing uncountable number of drinks.

  “Oh, fuck,” Chloe slurred.

  “You…are a bad girl!” Pierre said. “Not doin’ shots with…you again, OK?” After a few minutes, the two slowly brought their bodies to standing position. Pierre pointed. “The bed is over there.”

  “You wanna fuck me, don’t you?”

  “I was trying to be nice!”

  “Taking advantage of me in this state isn’t nice though!” Roaring drunken laughter erupted from the two.

  Pierre slowly made his way to the single bed. “Going to lay here. If you want to lay with me, that’s OK.”

  “Sure, why not?” Chloe struggled to walk straight. “Not going to fuck you, though—saving that for the third date…maybe.”

  Her body made a crash landing on the bed. Silence filled the room. A much-needed recovery session for the two was in order.

  ………

  An eerie frozen forest manifested around Chloe. Her head moved from right to left, scanning the unfamiliar landscape, not a person in sight. Where the hell am I? Her footsteps led her down a narrow snow-covered path in the forest. She didn’t feel cold at all, despite her summer attire. A small child from deep within the forest approached her. The girl had long black hair, probably around eleven or twelve years old.

  “Do I know you?” Chloe asked.

  The child’s clenched fist raised toward Chloe. She held something. Her hands opened to reveal a red gem…with a glowing sphere in it. Chloe glanced at the gift with confusion.

  “You want me to have this?” Chloe asked.

  “You must take it,” the girl said. “When the time comes.”

  ………

  Chloe’s eyes sprung open, and she was back in Pierre’s hotel room. Morning sunlight slowly poured through the windows, illuminating the foot of the bed she’d passed out on. Fucking crazy dream, she thought as she rose up.

  “Welcome back to the land of the living,” said Pierre, who stood at the entrance to the washroom.

  “Well, my clothes are still on,” she said with a charming smile.

  “Like I said, I’m a gentleman,” Pierre said.

  “I should probably head back to my place.” Chloe proceeded toward the door. “Well, thank you for last night. It was great.”

  “My pleasure.”

  She gazed back at him one last time. “When do you head back to Canada?”

  “In a few days.” He smiled.

  “Call me sometime,” Chloe said. “I’d love to hang out again before you leave.”An itch on the back of her head triggered her hand to spring upward to deal with it. Her hand jerked backward as a sharp stabbing pain from the itch pulsed.

  ………

  A knock on the door prompted Pierre to hide his data pad underneath the bed. A few hours had passed since Chloe had left, so no way could it be her coming back. Could it be? He opened the door. Natasha stood before him with a captivating smile, wearing a pair of sunglasses. Chloe was work, Natasha is play, he thought with a lust filled grin.

  “You’re a bit early,” he said.

  “Nothing wrong with that.” She let herself in.

  He gazed at the drawing storage tube strapped to her back. “Art student?”

  “Something like that,” she said. “So where are you taking me?”

  “You like Italian?” he asked.

  She paused for a moment. “I could go for an Italian steak.”

  “You’re in luck. They have a fantastic steak there.” His statement came to an unexpected end as she removed her sunglasses. “Oh my gods…”

  Her eyes were orange with a slight glow to them—Hashmedai posing as a human.

  “What happened to your accent, comrade?” she said.

  Self-preservation instincts kicked in, prompting him to flee toward the closet where he kept his side arm, a Radiance Union magnetic pistol. His hand was a second away from gripping the door handle when his body suddenly became numb and was propelled backward into the firm and cold grip of her hands. A blade found itself carefully placed next to his throat.

  “OK, you’re good,” he said. “You really had me going there.”

  “Three people from my team, including myself, survived your cowardly ambush, Linl,” she said with an anger-fueled voice.

  His eyes were fixated on her blade. “Impressive artwork there…” He didn’t need to look at her to know she was baring her fangs at him—the hissing noise coming from her mouth was proof enough. “What do you want, demon?”

  She removed the blade from his neck and said, “My name is Onatiasha Ladyknight, I'm here to send a message to the Radiance Union forces on this world.” The sudden agonizing pain of the blade impaling through his chest sent his body to the floor. “The Hashmedai Empire says ‘hello.’”

  ………

  The Hashmedai did not deem all regions on the human world uncomfortable. Far south was a massive continent under the planet’s southern pole. Much of this region was covered in ice all year round, the perfect getaway for a Hashmedai staying in this warm world.

  Phylarlie took in the sights of the area while kneeling down for a bit. She’d been on her feet for a few hours now. The wind blew icy air against her back, while her long curly black hair waved back and forth—such a lovely feeling. She wore light assassin armor, which consisted of boots, shorts, and a sleeveless top. This outfit, while providing the least amount of protection, was lightweight, allowing anyone wearing it to be more agile and move quicker. It also consumed less battery power, since there was less area for its defense and healing matrix to cover. The real reason she chose this attire, however, was the fact that this world was warm. Wearing less enabled one to stay cooler, and to be honest, it was the most revealing and sexy outfit provided to Hashmedai assassins. She took great pride in killing targets while looking gorgeous.

  She took inventory, making sure she had everything she needed for her forthcoming assignment—cloaking device for invisibility, stun disks, incineratary disks, kinetic disks, thermal vision glasses, and of course, plasma charge daggers. It was a standard assassin loadout.

  She conjured a holographic display before her, a live image of herself. She enjoyed how some human females presented themselves and tried to mimic their style—white highlights in her hair being one of those and cosmetics being another. Humans have much better style when it comes to makeup compared to Hashmedai, she thought as she examined the eye shadow she’d applied earlier. Not a bad look. I’ll have to take some of this back to the empire and show the women there how to really look good.

  The sun was setting already, another reason she enjoyed this area. This time of year, the days were extremely short, so darkness was common. If one traveled farther south, it was nothing but darkness for several months.

  She switched modes on the hologram, setting it to record the frozen landscape before her and the group of cute little black-and-white fowls. What do humans call them? Penguins?

  “We are being called back up,” said a familiar voice from behind her.

  Phylarlie shut off the hologram and turned around to face the recon
team’s psionic, Chidorli. Playing with the penguins would have to wait. “Understood,” she replied.

  Chidorli stepped toward her, wearing a white gown with a bustier-like crop top with green stripes around the edges that matched her hair. The exposed parts of her skin displayed her cybernetic implants, which were quite sensitive as Phylarlie remembered from her first year at the psionic Academy. Combat armor had a tendency to interfere with the implants’ ability to communicate with the psionic. Even clothing that covered them made them slightly unreliable. In addition, they generated an uncomfortable amount of heat when in use for a long period of time. As such, wearing clothing that allowed the implants to be visible became standard practice among all psionics.

  Chidorli’s eyes shut to focus—teleporting from planet to a ship in orbit required good concentration. Otherwise the psionic risked landing in the vacuum of space instead of the ship. Her cybernetics glowed blue.

  Moments later, a flash of blue light appeared aboard a Hashmedaian scout ship in orbit of the human world. Phylarlie and Chidorli emerged from it, floating in zero gravity. The ship wasn’t very big—a main cockpit was upfront, with sleeping quarters behind it, and behind that cryo stasis pods. Phylarlie’s red-orange eyes glowed, as did Chidorli’s red eyes as they adjusted to the low lighting in this environment.

  The duo floated toward the cockpit. The southern polar continent they were just in was visible from the window. Up front was a chair and flight computer terminal, where a Hashmedai man sat. He had short white hair, blue skin, and a long goatee. He was very tall and possessed a strong muscular body with broad shoulders. The glow from his orange eyes reflected in the window. He was not exactly the type of man Phylarlie was attracted to, but she’d caught Chidorli looking at him quite a few times, like right now.

  Chidorli spoke. “We’re here, Zhinbryo.”

  He replied, “Good, we must make haste.” His fingers danced with the terminal. The view of the planet moved out of visual sight for a moment. “That Radiance ship is getting closer.”