He rubbed his face, his stomach growling.
Rivkah approached on a path, holding a book so huge and thick he was surprised one person could carry it alone. A few men and women in combat uniform strode behind her, the trees surrounding the area fluttered on the breeze, their pinkish-yellow leaves and golden needles shimmered in the artificial light from the glass dome above.
These were too surreal.
He looked past Rivkah at trees in the distance that cascaded from hill top to hill top, accompanied by domed structures dotting the hills, a plethora of waterfalls plummeted everywhere.
He dropped his forehead into his hands. It was a beautiful city, but almost too beautiful, too concocted as if these people spent their entire life constructing, fixing, creating, and designing the greatest city in the Universe.
A city that would be gone in a matter of weeks, especially since the Kelhoon were already here.
He hung his head, pressing his forehead more into his palm. The Kelhoon were potentially beatable. But even if they held off the Kelhoon, the Secret Space Program was on route. There was no way the Atlanteans could fend off both armies. It was a logistical impossibility. The best the Atlanteans could do would be to leave, find another home, one that was putrid enough that not even the Golgath Boars of Panzea would find enjoyment with.
An image of a bi-ped human type, a hair-like mane, large furry ears, a pig nose, prominent tusks, and barrel, stout body came to his mind. Where the hell had that come from? He knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that was a Golgath, probably another race he had met during his stint with the Secret Space Program. The memories were returning; faster now. And they were sticking. When he’d worked with Doctor Donny, back in Underfoot Black, he’d had trouble holding on to the simplest memory from that time, but now he was seeing entire swathes of his own history in full, living color. If there was one thing he needed to do, it was apologize to Rivkah. No wonder the woman hated him. She believed he’d left her for dead, or at least left her burned to a crisp when her ship had gone down. He hadn’t, but she didn’t know that – or rather, didn’t believe it.
Rivkah whistled, bringing Jaxx to the present.
He gave a fake smile, his mind racing with thoughts of any possibility these people could win this war, a war against two horrific, well-armed enemies.
“Jaxx, you with us?” asked Rivkah, smiling pleasantly for the first time in...Jaxx couldn’t remember when. A part of him wanted to jump up and give her a hug, then a kiss, then more. The energetic pull was getting more and more intense every time he saw her, a flood of erotic desires almost oozing out of him. Did she feel the same?
Nope.
It was Rivkah. Even if she did, he couldn’t sense it from her, couldn’t read her mind, as if she psychically masked it from these odd powers they both shared.
He lowered his eyes to his hands, which were splayed out on the table in front of him. The ground shook, then the table, almost rocking Jaxx off the bench and on his back. A thunderous roar filled the domed city and a bright flash lit up the pinkish-purple sky. He glanced to the east. An explosive cloud grew on the horizon.
Rivkah dropped the book on the table, shifting her hands to her hips, watching the cloud along with Jaxx and the other who were with her. “Those Kelhoon...they did something to a girl. I can’t get it out of my mind, Jaxx.” She glanced at her feet, pounding her boot heel into the earth. “We have to stop them. I don’t care how we do it, but we have to stop the coming slaughter.” She shook her head, eying the dissipating battle cloud, squinting.
Jaxx stared at the iron clad men and women behind Rivkah that held spears with barrel tips, most likely used to shoot energy charges, rather than to poke.
Rivkah sat down next to him, butting him over. “Scoot your fat ass over, gimpy.”
Jaxx sighed. If doom and gloom were a real thing, it was trumped by what would come to fruition soon. “I’m going to help them fight, but where is everyone? Are all the warriors fighting already?”
“Kaden Jaxx,” said a man, pointing at a temple at the top of the farthest and tallest hill, almost touching the glass dome. He dipped his head in respect. “I am Morning Star. My people are underground, practicing and equipping. We have many, but not enough I’m afraid.”
Rivkah chimed in. “They have technology that tops our own. High-mechanized tanks, ten-story tall mechs, advanced starfighters, you name it. They just don’t have the man power. These Atlanteans are masters in the air – I’ve seen it – and they could give you a run for your money, but that’s not how you win a war. You win on the ground.” She shook her head, her eyes soft, sad. Again, something Jaxx wasn’t used to. “I can’t tell you what I saw in East Rise, the city to the east, but it’s terrible. The Kelhoon are dogs and I can’t wait to whip them.”
Jaxx’s eyes went wide. “You’re thinking of joining this fight?”
“I’m not thinking. I’m doing.” She shrugged. “What else am I going to do? I either run, fail, or fight. That’s all I know.” She dropped the book on the table. “Apparently, this is for you.” She stood. “I guess you, me, and blondie...uh...Captain Katherine Bogle...are part of some master plan.” She gestured to the book. “Liberty told me it’s all in there.”
Jaxx looked at the book. There was no doubt that he would help with whatever these people needed. He just needed to know more, to learn as much as he could about them, about any hieroglyph he could get his hands on, just in case it might tell him something worthwhile, something important like the vortex and the pyramid power.
“What can you do with the pyramids, Morning Star? Can you use them in a battle?”
Morning Star folded his hands in front of him, then glanced at a few of his compatriots. “It’s not what we can do with it. It’s a matter of your willingness to do something with it.”
Jaxx tilted his head, his brows furrowed. “What do you mean?”
Morning Star scratched his chin, looking uncomfortable, then gestured to the book. “It’s all there.”
Jaxx took a step toward Rivkah, then stopped. “Your chest.” At the top of her sternum was a blue, glowing crystal embedded in her skin.
Rivkah put her hand on Jaxx’s chest and a warmth enveloped him, soothed him. “You have one too. It’s a way of communication between us and them.” There was a softness in her eyes, her lips parted. She moved back and shifted her eyes from his. She turned on her heels.
“Where are you going?” asked Jaxx, touching her shoulder.
She glanced at his hand. “To the temple. We’ve got to get prepared. We’re commencing a ground assault tonight, hoping to get as many survivors back over here as possible.”
“What exactly is happening out there?” asked Jaxx.
“There are many cities on Atlantis Alto – Callisto. And, with many cities there are many deaths, my friend,” responded Morning Star. “We only know what we’ve seen in East Rise, but the other cities are an unknown and unresponsive. Anyone we’ve sent through the pyramid coffers have not returned with reports.”
“Pyramid coffers?” questioned Jaxx.
“It’s a teleport system,” replied Rivkah.
“A teleport –”
“No more questions, my friend. We must leave.” Morning Star bowed. “It is your choice to join our fight, but we will not hold it against you if you do not.”
They all turned and hastily walked down the rock slated path, except Rivkah. “Please help us. I don’t know what it is, but you, Blondie, and I are important. I can feel it. We can help these people.”
“Why do you care? Why would you stay? These aren’t your people.”
Rivkah slowly shook her head, looking off toward East Rise. “The girl. That was me, except she didn’t make it. She didn’t have a chance.” She twisted around, walking after Morning Star and his troops, looking over her shoulder. “Please join us, Kaden.”
Jaxx watched her disappear down the descended path and into the woods. He sat down and opened the heavy book, its pages brown, though almos
t perfect and untouched, the glyphs printed in Atlantean.
Each page had a year, starting back to the days of Atlantis. He perused page after page, reading nation-state treaties and Atlantis’s history. He went to the back of the book, seeing that the date was this day of all days – if he had been counting correctly.
He slid his finger down the parchment, finding his name, and then Rivkah’s, Fox’s, and Bogle’s. The symbols on the page spoke of the three, and one overseer, then the one within the three.
What the hell does that mean?
He continued on, moving his finger down the page, sucking up each symbol like a sponge. “I’m the main key?” He put his hands up, still wondering what that meant.
He paused, gasping. “I’m the sacrifice? What the hell?”
He slammed the book closed. “No, there has to be another way.” He patted himself down and then looked at his hands. “If Katherine is the overseer, directing us what to do, and I’m the main key...” he paused, biting his fingernail. “The sub keys are here to kill –”
A starfighter flew overhead, then another and another, exiting through a large square door in the dome.
He opened the book back up, wanting to finish the last page. “Zan and Leo? They are the change? Change for what?” He read more symbols. “Coordinates and star systems?” He put his hand to his mouth. Coordinates were written throughout the page. It was a map. He could stay and fulfill his destiny or he could follow these coordinates – if he was fast enough.
He rubbed the back of his neck. “Why me? I’m a nobody.” He nodded. “That’s probably why. Why sacrifice a modern day Nikolai Tesla or a Joan of Ark? I’m just a washed up archaeologist that no one needs. Chances are they only need a warm body to set this in motion.” He didn’t believe—not for a single second—that he was an Atlantean-human hybrid, who’d been written about in their ancient books. He wasn’t the key. He was Kaden Jaxx. Just boring old Kaden Jaxx. No one special. Never had been, never would be.
He smashed his cheeks in his hands as he leaned forward on the table. He closed his eyes, thinking. The book said his DNA was similar to a lever. Once it was pressed down, it would end all dark frequencies on Atlantis Alta in exchange for his own frequency. So, death. He was supposed to die, to cancel out the negative vibes.
He grabbed the book and tucked it under his arm and ran after Rivkah. If he was going to die, he was going to tell her how he felt first.
33
J-Quadrant, Solar System
Callisto Orbit
Fox leaned back in his chair, his exo-suit laying on the floor, his hands behind his neck. He was in his Oospore, watching Callisto as if it was a movie on his vid screen. He pressed his ship’s cloaking mechanism and yawned. He listened to the wheels vibrating against the dropship’s inner walls, pivoting the outer armor like dragon scales poking outward, the outer armor revealing radar-deflecting mirrors. Hopefully that would keep the Kelhoon away for the short duration he’d be in Callisto orbit.
His control panel beeped and Slade appeared on the screen. Fox flinched, not expecting to hear from Slade until the Secret Space Program entered the system.
“Welcome, Colonel. I’m here, awaiting your arrival. I have a lot of information I want to –”
“It’s more than that, Kajka Okbak,” said Slade.
Fox rubbed his forehead. “What was that, Colonel?”
The screen switched and a Kelhoon appeared. The mother fucker was grinning, slightly baring his teeth – if you could call a no-lipped, straight mouth a grin. “Koojkaka Gonoij.”
“Excuse me,” replied Fox. “Colonel, can you please –”
“No, no, Kajka Okbak.” Slade obviously couldn’t hear him. He was talking directly to that Kelhoon fuck. “That’s not what I’m saying. Once we take Callisto, my people are all yours, not just some of them, all of them.”
The scaly freak gave a satisfied nod. “Shakja Sivjka Goojna.”
“Thank you for that gift. I’ll gladly accept it once the invasion is over. Things have not gone as planned, so plan B is in effect. I applaud your continued loyalty, Kajka Okbak.”
Fox checked the comm line. He had intercepted a frequency. Or, better yet, someone had nudged his energy comm dial to receive a line from a private conference call.
Kajka Okbak put his fists together. “Kja Oovgoj.”
Slade mimicked him, punching his fists together as well. “Kja Oovgoj.”
The transmission blipped off.
“Kja Oovgoj?” It was the Kelhoon party line when it came to genocide. Even Fox knew how to translate it. “To kill them all.” It meant that no matter how many extraterrestrial Beings inhabited an area or were part of an allied cause, the victors were never the allies, the victor was the remaining combat unit or units left alive from a particular race. In this case, it meant that the Atlanteans and the Humans were to be killed, exterminated, with the exception of Colonel Slade Roberson, once this war had ended.
Fox tapped his teeth with his fist. It couldn’t be. Would Slade really throw his entire invading men and women, Senators and Governors, into the slobbering maw of the Kelhoon? He didn’t know Slade too well, didn’t know his intricacies of diplomacy. Maybe Slade was setting the Kel up, positioning him to expose who the Kel truly was so the Secret Space Program would end Kajka Okbak and his fleet the moment the battle for Callisto was complete?
He stood, pacing back and forth, thinking...thinking...
If Slade recorded the conversation, Slade could use it against the lizard-heads. If not, then Slade kept the conversation on the down low, making sure no one knew what ace Slade had up his sleeve. In such a case, Slade was going to throw his own blood under the bus, slap some bombs by the tires, and detonate them.
He checked the comm line. He pressed a few holographic buttons, patching into the call he’d just mysteriously received. He pressed play.
Static.
He brought the call up again and pressed more buttons. The word DEADLOCKED filled the screen. The call had been erased, no recording available.
He pounded his chair, his face flushed in red. “I’m going to kill him. There ain’t no shootin’ his noose.”
Another beep, this one different. The lights switched to combat red, imbuing the ship’s insides. Fox leapt up, checking his own radar. He had inbound – three Leaping Lizards – Kelhoon Starfighter LL-class 4’s. He was being targeted.
So much for his cloaking device.
He flicked his engine to overdrive. He could be chased all over the galaxy if he ran, but thought better of it. He was fast, but mostly defenseless when it came to a star battle.
He clenched his jaw. “I can’t believe I’m doing this.” He pressed forward, adjusting his craft to forty-five degrees. “I’m on my way back. Sheeeit.”
34
Lookout Mountain, Tennessee
Two leather bucket seats faced each other in the helicopter. Drew and Mya sat on the rear seat, the suit-wearing young man, acting too old for his age, sat directly across from them. They all wore helmets with a thick microphone boom rounding to their mouths, a microphone at the tip.
Drew watched out the window as the helicopter descended toward a clearing on Lookout Mountain, the top of the mountain stretching north and south for miles, trees and shrubbery all across the high landscape, not to mention the streets and richy-riches mountain homes.
The man across from them smiled. “By the way, I’m Nick Thacker. They call me T-hacker.”
Drew cocked his head. “You were on the launch that was aired on TV.”
T-hacker looked out the window. “The fake launch. It got me here, didn’t it?”
“Where is here?”
The helicopter’s skids touched down and the cabin jostled. T-hacker opened the door. “We’re at the new White House. Welcome.”
T-hacker stepped out of the helicopter, the wind whipping across his perfect hair. Drew unstrapped himself and Mya, then grabbed her and walked out of the helicopter, the crunch of gravel o
n the bottom of his feet. The helicopter lifted and Drew bent down, shielding Mya from the helicopter’s gust. It slowly moved forward and over a line of trees, disappearing from view, the sound dissipating the farther away it went.
Drew picked up Mya and studied the area. Large rocks, trees, and grayish-brown soil littered the area.
“Step this way, Drew,” said T-hacker, gesturing at two large rocks butting up against a cliff.
A click and kajijijiji pierced the air. The rocks were splitting apart like opening doors.
Mya squeezed Drew. “Don’t go in there.”
He patted her back and whispered in her ear. “We’ll be fine. They know where your daddy is.”
They walked toward the opening, then Drew halted as three men exited and made their way toward him. Drew squinted his eyes, wishing it wasn’t so dusk. Is that? No, it couldn’t be. “Anderle?”
Anderle slapped his hands together then pushed away his long, dyed black hair that draped over his eyes. “Hey, buddy!” He laughed, his belly jiggling through his black, anime-laden shirt. “This is the new White House.” He gestured to a man standing next to him. “Meet President Jefferson Kennedy.”
The President waved, then vanished.
Drew shuffled back a few steps. “What the...”
Anderle gave a funny look. “Oops, did he just disappear? Oh, yeah, ’cause he’s not real. Just another hologram.” He pointed to his chest. “Guess who’s the President?” He slowly nodded his head up and down, exaggerating his movements. “Uh-huh, me. I’ve got the whole world thinking President Jefferson Kennedy is an actual person. But, nope, it’s my words coming out of his digitally enhanced voice.” He shrugged, already over the incredibleness of it all.
Drew looked at the man standing next to Anderle. The guy was Asian, which was fine, but the guy didn’t act like he was from the United States, his body-language shouting foreigner – the way he stood, the way his head bobbed up and down when Drew made eye contact with him, and not to mention he didn’t as so much shift a mouth muscle for a smile or a frown. He was foreign and military. What the fuck was going on?
Destination Atlantis (Ascendant Chronicles Book 2) Page 16
