“This is a total clusterfuck, Slade.”
“Noted, Mr. President. Now, if you’ll excuse me?”
He pushed through the entourage, ignoring Craig’s mounting quibbles and concerns. He was done with this Jaxx character. He should have killed the archaeologist and Rivkah when he had the chance. He let them linger around him for far too long and only because he had a plan, a script that Jaxx and Rivkah were supposed to follow, and he wasn’t used to people going improv on him.
He tapped on his shoulder comm device. “Andrea Cross. Is everything set up?”
“Yes,” she replied. “We have a private room waiting for you.”
“Thank you, Doctor.”
Slade walked into a stairwell and descended a few decks. Pushing the door open into a lobby, he walked with wide steps, his posture strong. Entering a hall, he stopped at the first door and ran his ID across the control panel. The door beeped and slid upward.
“Right this way, Colonel.” A woman, dark brown hair swept up in a chignon, greeted him. She had on a white lab coat, much like the one Dr. Donny used to wear – his old hypnotherapy tech and physician, killed by friendly fire down in Underfoot Black.
“Thank you, Andrea.” He strode forward, following her into another room, the door shutting behind them.
She gave him a curt nod. “Have a seat here and we’ll hook you up.”
He took a seat next to an IV stand and Dr. Cross rubbed the crook of his arm with a numbing cream just below his bicep. She slipped a needle under his skin. The other end of the needle was attached to plastic tubing with a medication administration port, roller clamp, and drip chamber.
She exited the room, returning shortly with a bag of blood in her hand, a large white sticker over it with the name, Kaden Jaxx, on the front.
“Are you sure about this, Colonel?”
Slade gave a shallow grin, his deep piercing eyes cutting through Dr. Cross as if he was looking at someone else. “Sure as shit am.”
∞
Captain Richard Fox stood in front of his control panel, his titanium elastic alloy boots magnetized to the floor, his IPR-8 – Ion Pulse Rifle – magnetized to the back of his titanium suit, weapons batteries strapped to his belt, photonic grenades clipped to his shoulder, and two vibroknifes, each magnetically stuck to his leg armor.
To say he was prepared for a fight was an understatement.
The Oospor he’d snagged, however, wasn’t the space fighting type. It could wreak havoc on the ground, but all it had in space was a few lucky shots and speed.
He patted his control panel. “Let’s get back in this.”
Rivkah had shot his craft up nicely and he was out of the chase, far from the pack of Air Wings. The Oospor’s shields and armor held up nicely, but he had to pull out of the fight and let Jaxx go.
He glared at his vid screen, Mars highlighted space in front of him, the Air Wings were like blue dots, getting smaller and smaller. Rivkah was lost in that mess. If Jaxx was going to Mars, then all the better. He could fuck him up there.
He went to push the throttle when a strange frequency code came through his comm line, the numbers showing up on his holographic display console.
51008.
He throttled up, blasting toward the Air Wings. He’d catch up to them soon, seeing that they weren’t flying in a straight line, avoiding weapon’s fire, dog fighting, and evading each other.
He patched in 51008. “Who is on this line? Clear.”
The comm line replied with static. Why would he be sent this frequency code?
An image popped up on his vid screen. “An energy vortex?”
He typed in 110 on his comm line, wanting to speak with Mission Control. The comm line went right back to 51008.
“What the fuck? I need Mission Control.”
He patched in 110 again. For a moment it stuck, then went right back to 51008.
He scrunched up his nose, confused, and veered toward the vector coordinates for the energy vortex. He attempted Mission Control again. For a moment, 110 stuck.
“Am I being asked to rendezvous at coordinates – ”
The comm line bounced back to 51008.
“I must be.”
He throttled to Sub-light 3.1.
Ten seconds to rendezvous point.
The pack of Air Wings flew right through the coordinates – the energy vortex – then some banked right and some banking left, circling the coordinates Fox was heading toward. Yet, they were confused. What was going on? Where was the dogfight?
Almost on top of the coordinates, he slowed his ship. An instant later, his Oospor was surrounded by electricity; bolts of lightning splintered in front and all around him.
The craft shuddered, then zipped forward as if being pulled. He reversed thrusts, but nothing happened, his controls were out of fucking control.
The space in front of him changed from starlit black and facing Mars to a tunnel of blue electric energy spinning around like domesticated lightning. His comm line still held the frequency code, his holographic dials spinning rapidly.
He pulled back on his control stick.
Nothing.
He dropped his arms by his side, his cockpit lighting up in white and blue. He shifted on his feet and crossed his armored arms across his metallic chest. He guessed he had to wait it out. He’d been through too much combat to be in anxiety over this – the unknown. It was part of his life, a part he no longer feared.
But the dropship, not cooperating, really irked him.
His craft stopped and clouds of energy – reds, yellows, greens, and golds – dispersed outward as his dropship came to a full halt, caught by something; something energetic and powerful.
A beep came through his comm line. “Welcome, Captain Fox. Remember me?”
19
Charlotte, North Carolina
Whapooh! Whapooh!
Two stationary tanks let loose in the city street. Drew, Mya, and Camila, the baby bundled in her arms, leaned against a laundromat building, the cement wall shook, and smoke rose from around the corner building, its front caved in from a direct hit.
“Go!” said Drew, prodding Mya and Camila forward. They ran, crossing the pocked road and ducking behind the next building. They’d only made it a few miles from Drew’s house.
“Me cago en la madre,” said Camila, throwing her words in Drew’s direction. “Hijo de la gran puta, Drew. You brought us right in the middle of danger.”
“Keep running and follow me.” That’s all Drew could say, other than questioning her about what the hell she just called him. Drew hadn’t foreseen a military battle on his way to his friend’s business. He also didn’t believe a country would ever invade the United States and they had, so what else could be pulled out of the holy-shit hat?
There was a moment of quiet, but he knew it wouldn’t last, then Bvvvvvvv as a tank rotated its turret, readying another shot.
Whapooh!
The side of a building across the way sunk in, cement and wood crumbling from the explosion. Soldiers ran out of the building, letting off some rounds with their rifles, then hustled around the corner, disappearing from view.
A US tank pulled forward from behind the building.
Bvvvvvvvvv! Whapooh!
Bratatatatat Ratatatat!
US Marines emerged from another building and raced by Drew. One soldier waved them down, urgent and angry and pissed at the world. “Get the hell out of here!”
It was like they were in a war zone. The United States didn’t have war zones. This wasn’t right. This just didn’t happen.
Another missile landed, somewhere in the middle distance. All Drew knew was it hadn’t landed on them. Not yet, anyway.
Car alarms joined the fray, going off like a tone-deaf symphony.
He led Mya and Camila around another building. They stopped, pressing their backs against a wall, Camila holding the duffel-bag tightly to her side as if it was their lifeline, her mouth drawn in a straight line. She rubbed he
r shoulder. “You trying to kill us?”
Drew put his hands on his knees, bending over, a drop of sweat falling from his nose. He’d carried Mya half the distance, figuring it would be faster.
It wasn’t.
He shook his head, panting. “I didn’t know...they would be here. I thought we were running away from the fighting, not –”
“Cállate!” Camila dropped the bag, bringing Mya in closer and kissing her on top of the head. She looked at Drew. “What now, genius? Where do we go?” Her accent was sweet, her tone harsh as a bomb striking the ground.
Drew pointed at a car dealership. “My friend Ethan works there.”
Camila put her hands on her hips, panting a bit, but not heavily like Drew. Carrying a kid takes it out of you, but she had years of practice The baby was sound asleep. “So, what? No one is there. Look, all the lights are off.”
Drew gave a thumbs up. “Good. ’Cause I’m not fixing to buy a car. I’m going to steal one.”
Bratatatatat Ratatatat!
“Come on!” They ran across the way, jumping over a road divider, quickly striding to a sidewalk, and up the car lot steps to the showroom glass doors.
Locked.
The city’s electricity was offline, which meant this dealership had no electricity either and that equaled no alarms blaring off for all the world to hear when he broke in.
He went to grab a rock – something to break the glass – then jumped back as the glass shattered inward, shards of glass splashing over the entryway floor.
Camila handed the baby to Mya. “Move.” She leaned back and threw another rock, this one a bit bigger. It slashed through the other glass door, creating a bigger hole.
Camila passed her hand through the opening, unlocking the front doors, allowing Mya and Drew to pass through.
Drew rushed by desk after desk and veered toward an office, Mya and Camila following close behind.
Whapooh!
A tank was near. Too near.
Drew twisted the door handle. It was locked. He stepped a few feet back, then ran and slammed his foot near the door knob. It broke open.
Bratatatat Ratatatat!
They all instinctively ducked. The shelling was getting closer.
Drew crawled inside and dug through a drawer. No keys. He put his hands up, then scratched his head. “I swear I read that it was in that drawer.” He opened another drawer. Only pens and paper. He opened a cabinet. Not there either.
He closed his eyes.
“What are you doing? We need to hurry,” said Camila.
He put his index finger up. “Let me concentrate. I’m not thinking correctly. I have to locate the key.” He started whispering to himself, as if reading a manual. “Yes, it was on the fourth page.” He brought it up to memory. For a genius, having a photographic memory had its good and its bad. The bad; you remember what everyone has said about you. The good; you remember exactly where you saw the spare keys listed on a ten-page document you once read in Ethan’s office because you were bored, waiting for Ethan to get out of a meeting.
Drew pushed Ethan’s desk chair aside and lifted the carpet mat. A shiny brass key was underneath. “There it is. Now, to the box.”
He hustled to another room, slipping the key inside the black box’s keyhole. He twisted the key and opened the box.
He needed an efficient, low gas mileage car. He snagged the key for the hybrid.
“Got it. Let’s go.”
Several cars were parked on the showroom floor, though only one hybrid. He walked over to the passenger’s side door, opening it up. He glanced at Camila across the room, Mya smashed up against her hip, looking for her mom for comfort and hiding behind her at the same time. “Camila, step inside to your new –”
Ratatatat!
Glass shattered, splintering toward them, and papers flew in the air. Bullets ricocheted off the ground and center showroom beams. Drew, Camila, and Mya hit the deck.
Drew covered his head, then instinctively looked up, hoping his companions were safe.
Mya was on the floor in front of Drew. He grabbed her and crawled backwards, pulling her along with him behind a wide, steel beam.
He leaned against it, holding Mya tightly, staring at the corner wall splattered with bullet holes.
He heard a slight squeal and looked over, seeing Camila crawling to them, her face full of tears, her hands grasping for her daughter, her mouth twisted in pain, mouthing “Mya”, a trail of blood in her wake. She wasn’t holding the baby.
20
Unknown
Rivkah jolted awake and sat up. The last thing she remembered she was in some type of hazy reddish, purplish cloud after following Jaxx into the star portal, or whatever that dumbass called it. Now, she was in a room, no, a dome – a crystal dome.
She twirled around, seeing that she was laying on a bed of some type, soft in texture, but also crystal in nature. It glowed with an inner warmth. Not much here at all, except the dome walls, which acted as a soft light, highlighting the cobble stone floor all around her.
A strange sensation pulsed from her chest and up her throat. Then a sting zipped through her brain, splitting like roots, and a bright light flashed in her mind’s eye. She gasped, slapping her chest with her hand. Something hard and smooth was embedded in her skin – a blue crystal-like device. God, here we go again. More experiments?
Last month had been a bitch. She’d been in a place she didn’t want to be – Underfoot Black, where they had experimented on for who knows what, and here she was again, being a guinea pig for God knows who.
She picked at the device, trying to slip it off. When it wouldn’t budge, she pinched it between her index finger and thumb, trying to pry it loose. It didn’t hurt. It didn’t pinch. And it didn’t move.
She thought of Jaxx. He has led me into shit storm after shit storm. Will I ever learn?
He was like that dreaded carrot and she was the dumbass donkey.
But Jaxx wasn’t around her at the moment. She knew it. If he was, the creepy magnetic pull that seemed to continually draw them together would indicate exactly what she didn’t want – his piece of shit presence close by.
She took a deep breath, then let it all out on a single breath. Jaxx was hopefully far, far away, she wouldn’t be possessed by the strange, odd powers that she hated more than him – powers that only worked when she was in close proximity to him. She missed him and loathed him at the same time. Missed his beating heart flowing through her veins, missed his archaeologist-geek alter ego telling her his boring theories and findings, missing the pilot who could out fly anyone in the cosmos, even her.
The connection was gone and she was alone. Cursing his name would do nothing.
She stood and the bed vanished. She jumped back, waving her hand in and out of the space that was once the bed. “How –”
A couple of knocks echoed inside the dome and Rivkah turned, her arms and hands in her standard Muay Thai defensive position.
A woman wearing a Secret Space Program uniform, hands folded in front of her, stared back at her. She held a smile, though her forehead was wrinkled and she had a downcast expression. It was as if this woman was just as confused with the situation as Rivkah. Or she did not want to be here.
“I’m sorry to bother you. They wanted me to talk with you.” She looked down, sheepish, her shoulders drooped forward like a fearful dog. She glanced up, her smile growing brighter. “You’re one of my heroes.”
That was last thing Rivkah wanted to hear. It was the last thing she’d ever consider being. She laughed. Flattery would go nowhere, except up their asses. She lowered her eyes. “No one puts their hands on me. No more.” She eyed the walls as if they were one-way windows and scientists were observing her from the other side. “I’ll die before I let you touch one hair on me, and I’ll take many of you with me.”
The woman took a step forward, whispering. “I don’t trust them, either.”
Rivkah jumped forward. “I don’t trust you, M
issy.” She raised her back leg high in an overextended kick, then brought it down as hard as she could.
The woman was late to react and covered her head with her hands and arms, ducking and screeching.
Mere centimeters from the back of the woman’s head, Rivkah foot stopped and an electric shock ran through her. Something yanked Rivkah away, causing her heel to miss the intended target.
Rivkah fell to the floor. The dome vanished. In its place was a garden of trees, bushes, and flowers. Beneath her hands was a slate path that led to a forest.
Rivkah stood and stepped back, then spun wildly.
She brought her eyes to the woman in front of her. “Who are you?”
“I’m Captain Katherine Bogle.”
Rivkah ignored Bogle and gazed at a large Greek-like Parthenon on a hill in the distance, odd-looking trees around it. “Are you part of the Secret Space Program?”
“Yes,” said Bogle. “I’m here now. I don’t know where the Secret Space Program is.”
Rivkah backed up some more. “This is a trick. A trap.”
“No,” Bogle shook her head. “Well...maybe...”
“Well, what do you know?” Bogle was worthless, a scared little wimp. Rivkah continued to walk backward, her feet continuing on the rock path that led into the forest – a forest of fucked-up rainbow colors. Forests shouldn’t look like that.
“She knows little, my child. She is scared and expresses her fear differently than you,” said a voice from the forest.
Rivkah spun around, fists up and feet ready to strike.
Destination Atlantis (Ascendant Chronicles Book 2) Page 10
