“What did I throw under the bus?”
“Your God damn oath. Everything that made you human. I might as well call you a Kelhoon.”
The Kelhoon, a mixed race; half lizard, half human. Rivkah scanned her memory. Did the Kelhoon have the ability to warp a themselves into humans? Did they have that technology? Was Slade a Kelhoon? She snorted. Dumb thought. “Again, be specific, soldier. What did I do that you don’t like?”
“You’re a traitor.”
It didn’t take a brain scientist to know that, and Fox knew it too. “I’m not a traitor.”
“You turned an entire program into traitors.”
“Who?”
Fox stirred. “You know who.”
She wanted to pull out her hair. This was getting nowhere. “You are the one who convinced me.” She didn’t know where she was going with this, but any change would be good.
“The hell I did.”
“The program was your idea.”
“It was solely yours, you son of a bitch.”
“It was you who convinced the Global Safety Administration to turn on its people.”
“What? I did nothing of the sort. And that’s not what I’m talking about.” He curled his lips downward. “I’m talking about the SSP, you dipshit.”
What did Slade do with the SSP? “Those are humans. How does that make me and them a traitor?”
“You aligned them and the Kelhoons against an unknown.”
Bingo. “How the hell did I do that? That was you.” At the moment, she could make up anything to get some answers. It was almost fun. “I should call you the traitor.”
“Stop lying. I’m just relieved the SSP hasn’t confirmed your arrangement.”
“My arrangement to align the SSP and Kelhoons?” That had been done on more than one occasion, so why would that suddenly piss off Fox?
“Stop echoing me. You hate echoes.”
She leaned a hip against his hospital bed. “I see. And what are we going to do if I successfully align the two against the unknown?”
“You’ll kill the Atlanteans.”
“The Atlanteans? Are they the unknowns?”
“You bet your shiny ass they are. Again, don’t play me a fool, Slade.”
Rivkah went rigid. Atlanteans weren’t real. They were a myth and part of Jaxx’s vivid imagination. Jaxx had a screwed up fascination with them, so what was Fox talking about? Unless…
“You mean the Atlanteans on Callisto?” That was Jaxx’s contention. That before the deluge twelve-thousand some odd years ago, some of the Atlanteans had avoided it and fled off planet. With advanced technology and propulsion, they made their way to Callisto. She remembered Jaxx rambling on and on about that, but to her, it was just ramblings. Stupid incoherent thoughts not linking together. Until now.
“Yes, the Atlanteans. Who else?”
She swallowed. “And that’s where we’re headed, right?”
“You have some strange idea about a slave trade, but that’s none of my business.”
“On Callisto?”
“Where the hell else, man?”
She ran her hand through her hair and pulled. Just like planet Taiyo and the Taiyonians, the SSP and the Kelhoons crapped all over them to attempt a takeover. Unsuccessfully, for that matter. And the half dozen other worlds that the SSP took over, with and without the Kelhoons, jumped to her mind. She participated. They trained her to believe the shit the high command briefed her on, sometimes explaining that an alien group was going to invade Earth or infiltrate the United States government or drain the human world of all resources. She took the information as truth; hook…line…and sinker.
She fought on the front lines to keep the extraterrestrials away from her home. She killed them in space or on their home worlds. And it was all a ruse. Every damn minute of it. She killed more Beings than she could ever count and under false pretenses. These set of lies continued like a stream of disgusting pee, and she needed to stop it.
And now Slade was going into the slave trade business? Holy shit. She blew her cheeks out wide and threw her hands on her hips. For a moment, her mind was set. She’d kill Fox, then Slade, then whoever else she could in order to halt another invasion and stifle the slave trade.
Her heart dropped at the thought and she shook her head. No. She was done with this all. Too much stress for one woman, too many lies to uncover. Her first goal had to be finding a way off this starship. Her next goal was to fly under the radar for the rest of her life.
Goal one and two were attainable. Stopping Slade, the Kelhoons, and the SSP was downright impossible. And this slave trade business? She didn’t want to touch that with a ten-foot pole.
For a moment, the dumbest, oddest thought fell prey in her mind. Send Jaxx a thought packet of what she’d just learned from Fox. What was a thought packet? She stood like stone as the thought came and went, as if a memory of the last fifteen minutes of her talk with Fox lifted in a bubble and slipped into the ethers. And as it left her mind, she paid it no more attention. Focusing on what was more important—ending Fox’s life—Rivkah approached him closer with her arms outstretched.
Fox moaned something inaudible. He turned his head, eyes shut. “Cat catch your tongue?”
Oh, yeah. Goal one wasn’t getting off the ship. She’ll push that to goal two. Old Foxy-boy was goal numero uno now.
She went to strangle the last bits of air out of the sleeping prick when the door hissed open. No one was going to stop her today. It was time to head to the launch bay.
She shifted on her feet and charged through the curtain. A nurse’s head shot up a tablet. Her eyes were wide. And the nurse stood in her way.
24
M-Quadrant, Solar System - Starship Atlantis
One by one, images of Fox riddled Jaxx’s mind. He attempted to blink the asshole away until he realized what his mind was doing.
Downloading information. And from the one and only, Rivkah. Each vision sent an electric sensation to his heart, throwing out a strange exhale. He watched through Rivkah’s eyes, almost as if he were there, seeing Fox in a hospital bed recuperating from Slade’s gun shot. This thought bubble, or whatever the hell it was, showed an event in Rivkah’s life that occurred a short time ago.
But a holy-shit slave trade? The Kelhoons and the SSP aligning to take out the Atlanteans on Callisto? This was worse than he thought. The inhabitants on the Jupiter moon didn’t stand a chance. Although an asshole for leaving his people high and dry, President Martelle seemed to have his heart in the right place. He left Earth for a better life, not only for him, but for the citizens of the United States. And the President needed to know what Slade was up to.
Slade’s snores carried on, just like the guy’s want to strip alien civilizations from their homes, their livelihoods, their resources.
Jaxx jimmied out from under the bed, his movements quiet. The room dark, he walked as silently as possible to the panel near the door. The tip of his boot caught the leg of a chair. A squeak pierced the room as the chair moved across the floor. It tipped, the metal legs clanked, and the wooden backrest smacked hard.
Slade’s snoring stopped. Jaxx froze and he heard Slade bolt upright. The sounds of the sheets crumpling together cracked like a gun shot whipping in the darkness.
“Who’s there?”
Jaxx didn’t speak and didn’t move. He clenched his teeth and held back a string of shit-crap-son-of-a-butt-muncher curses that he’d love to yell at the top of his lungs.
“Jaxx?”
Jaxx tightened his lips. No matter what, he wasn’t going to say a word.
Slade’s bare feet slapped against the floor, and he heard Slade get out of bed.
“Whoever you are, you don’t realize how dumb of a move you just made. Who. Are. You?”
Jaxx dashed to the door, and his hands slapped as loud as Slade’s feet as the guy approached.
“Lights on,” said Slade.
The lights blared, and Jaxx couldn’t help but squint.
He searched the wall for the panel.
Slade held his forearm up to shadow his eyes from the light. Only ten feet from Jaxx, he squinted as well. “Jaxx. You?” In his boxers, the colonel’s thick muscles contracted. Way past his prime, but the guy didn’t skip a beat in the weight room.
Jaxx’s fingers came to the panel, and he patched in 2-4-6-8 and W-D-W-A in quick succession. Slade reached for him as the door opened.
“Get some clothes on, Slade,” said Jaxx as he ran out the door and down the corridor. Perhaps that would slow the man down and prompt him to toss on his fatigues. Most likely not.
Bare feet padded against the floor and echoed in the corridor. Slade was on his way. Jaxx pivoted at an intersection and went left. Slade may be in shape, but he wasn’t fast and Jaxx outpaced him. He hurried down another corridor and another until he reached the main elevator shafts.
A man exited an elevator, a towel around his waist, hair messed up and wet. With a pot belly, the guy slapped his stomach and yawned. He raised an eyebrow in a hello to Jaxx, and Jaxx dipped his head in kind.
The elevator doors closed after Jaxx stepped inside. He ran his hand to level four where Martelle’s office was located. He’d leave the guy a note, hide under his desk, he didn’t know. He had to get the information to Martelle in some way, shape, or form to get the president to turn this ship around.
The elevator descended, and a ding. Jaxx exited the elevator and ran down the corridor. He skid to a halt at the presidential office. Two large potted cactus plants bordered the door.
He rapped his knuckles on the top of his head. “No, no. Dammit.” He never asked Shaughnessy for Martelle’s office password or his suite’s. And like a dummy, he spent his time on Slade’s Lectern not looking for what he went in there for; the passcode to the bridge.
Each panel to a room had a doorbell of sorts. He pressed it. A buzz from the panel and he went rigid. He looked left and right down the corridor. At this hour, most people slept so the area was empty. From what he knew about President Martelle, the guy rarely slept, and if he did, like many go-getters, sleep didn’t account for much. This was part of his presidential campaign. The average person needed eight hours. Action oriented people who got shit done, more like five hours, sometimes less.
He held his breath. No answer. His heart beat fast and he balled up his fist. He tapped the doorbell again. Another buzz.
“I see you out there, Jaxx.” Martelle’s voice blared through the panel.
“Mr. President?”
“Why the hell are you waking me at this hour?”
Waking him? He slept in his office? Maybe his wife kicked him out for the night.
Jaxx motioned to the door. “Can I come in, sir?”
“Sure, no problem.” The door opened. The lights were off. At the back of the office stood a large window pane, not something Jaxx saw much on this starship. Mostly port holes for windows lined the corridors and if one was lucky, one or two port windows accompanied a person’s room.
The stars glittered behind the thick glass and Mars lit up the office with a gold hue, though the glow was dim.
Jaxx went to take a step inside then hesitated. “Are you in your office, Mr. President?”
“Does it look like I’m in there?”
“No.”
“We always knew your observation skills were top notch.” A pause. “We’ve been looking for you. We catch glimpses of you on the security cams, but they tend to glitch out when you’re near.”
That would have been a good piece of information to know. It would have saved Jaxx an extra ounce of stress. But Jaxx shrugged. “Sir, I have important information for you.”
“Oh? You’ve been studying the pyramids a bit?” There was hope in Martelle’s voice mixed with a tinge of excitement.
He couldn’t shoot the shit with him, so he’d give it to the president at point blank range. “I have evidence that Colonel Slade Roberson is planning an attack on the civilization living on Callisto.”
“There’s not a civilization currently living there.”
“It’s apparent there is, Sir.”
“Where’s the evidence?”
Jaxx put his hand on the wall and leaned. “They blew up an SSP Star Carrier. I saw it with my own eyes.”
Martelle huffed. “How do you know this?”
Jaxx’s stomach contracted. He’d have to spill the beans. “I saw it on Slade’s Lectern.”
“Slade didn’t inform me he’d sat you through the recording.”
Jaxx blinked a few times. “Hold on. You know about the Star Carrier?”
“I do and I don’t. Slade informed me.”
“But it’s worse than we know, Mr. President. I have seen documents on his Lectern. He won’t be heading back for a single soul on Earth.”
“That son of a bitch. What’s going on? Are you and Slade in on something together that I’m not privy to?”
He scrunched up his brow. “I’m not following, Sir.”
“How in God’s name do you know about Slade’s plans?”
“He’s aligning with the Kelhoons and the SSP to invade Callisto. And there’s something about a slave trade.”
“Yes.”
“You don’t sound surprised.”
“The only surprise I have is that Slade intimately involved you with this information. And without my knowledge.”
“You know about this?”
“Yes.”
“Everything?” If the president had full knowledge, then he knew about the invasion.
“Jaxx, listen to me very carefully. In my eyes, you’re our most important asset. You’ll bring light and power from the pyramids to our new civilization, but don’t for one second think Slade has any charge over me. When I say we’re going to pick up those in the United States that we left behind, I mean it. And it will get done.”
“But the invasion?”
“I’ll handle that.”
“How will you handle it?”
Another pause. “Don’t worry.”
“You’re not going to stop the invasion, are you?”
“Stay there, Jaxx.”
Boots clacked down the corridor.
“Who’s coming?”
“Don’t be alarmed, but we’ve been looking for you for a while now. Stay there. Our troopers will escort you to your room.”
“I can get there by myself. Thank you, Mr. President.”
“I’d suggest to keep your feet planted firmly on the ground, Jaxx. I don’t want any more issues with you.”
“I’ll be fine, Sir. Heading to my room now.”
“Don’t you move, Jaxx.”
Slade wanted him dead, no doubt. And Martelle either wanted the same or wanted him under room arrest on board this ship.
“Turn around this ship. If you don’t, I will.”
The boots clacked louder, closer.
“We’re not changing course, Jaxx.”
Anger rose and he spoke under a clenched jaw. “I don’t trust Slade. Or you.” He took a step away from the office.
“Jaxx, stay there.”
Jaxx shook his head and rushed down the corridor. Martelle’s voice faded as he burst in a run around a corner. He had only one option now. Something he considered, but never did it cross his mind more than once. It didn’t matter who on this ship was powerful, important, genius or not, they all needed to die.
If this ship was the head of the main dragon that dared to end those lives on Callisto, he’d cut the head off and find a starfighter to blast this ship to hell and back.
He turned another corner and slowed. The launch bay doors were dead ahead.
25
M-Quadrant, Solar System - Starship Atlantis
The doors to the launch bay opened, sucking upward, disappearing into the ceiling. The clatter of boots were coming closer, the chatter of mechanics and techs clinging away at the myriad of starfighters, dropships, odd-looking dune buggies, and Jetson-like flying cars in front of her.
Reaching the bay, she knew she would be safe—relatively, unless the moron with a rifle trailing her decided to let loose with a barrage of weapon fire, putting everyone in the bay in danger, even himself. Any errant shot could hit a nuclear dynamo or an ion drive in a dropship’s power plant and set this entire starship on its way to high water in a matter of seconds.
But even morons weren’t that dumb.
“She is under arrest. Grab her,” a guard hollered.
A pilot, on the bay tarmac, and walking his way to a starfighter, heeded the call and dropped his helmet and charged. He got within two feet before he realized he just ran into a shit storm.
Without altering her course, she slapped him with an open palm and caught him with a knee to the side of the head as his body angled downward from the first blow. He was knocked out, eyes shut, and on the floor in under 1.3 seconds.
You’re losing your touch, Rivkah.
She swiped up his helmet and headed to a starfighter with an open cockpit. A hand grabbed the back of her shirt, tugging her onto her back, knocking the wind out of her, nearly paralyzing her. The helmet slid away from her as the man jumped on her. He pinned her to the ground.
“Rivkah!” The voice was like lightening, shattering the still.
Rivkah flung an elbow, missing her intended target—the guy who held her down. His eyes narrowed and he shoved her, then brought the butt of his rifle up, ready to strike.
“Rivkah!”
There was that voice again but she couldn’t turn. She had other problems. She put her hands up to block the rifle thrust just as the footsteps became louder. A whoosh of air breezed by her face, a body jumping over her and pummeling the man about to strike. The rifle flew from the man’s fingers and slid by Rivkah.
She didn’t know who saved her and she didn’t have a second to care.
She stood and ran, picking up the helmet. The helmet’s ID read 102, Dizzy. She put it on as she ran at full throttle toward to the starfighter. She looked over her shoulder and nearly stopped, seeing the man who saved her. He was landing blow after blow upon the guard.
Ascendant Saga Collection: Sci-Fi Fantasy Techno Thriller Page 38
