Ascendant Saga Collection: Sci-Fi Fantasy Techno Thriller

by Brandon Ellis

  A cannon fired and the building shook. More of the ceiling collapsed in front of them, white drywall and plaster tumbled onto the car’s hood, wood joists plummeted to the ground in front of them, bouncing off the floor. His escape was now blocked.

  He looked over his shoulder. More glass doors. Perfect.

  He put the car in reverse and placed his foot on the pedal. The car shuddered as it hit a desk. He stepped his foot harder on the gas and drove the car through the glass doors. They shattered into a thousand pieces, the grind of concrete against the bottom of the car caused the vehicle to bob up and down the outside steps, until it leveled onto the street.

  Drew shoved it into drive and pushed on the gas, immediately pressing both feet on the brake. The car skidded to a halt. A tank was twenty yards in front of him. He went to back up, but a throng of foreign soldiers ran at him from that direction. He glanced at Mya. Her head was in her knees. She sobbed uncontrollably.

  He yanked the wheel, and floored it.

  31

  J-Quadrant, Solar System - East Rise, Callisto

  Bogle read the vid screen in front of her. “Two minutes until impact. We’re entering East Rise, another city on Callisto.”

  Rivkah shot her a look. Being given a play-by-play from an anxiety ridden co-pilot wasn’t her cup of tea. She felt like opening the bottom hatch and dropping Bogle through the vast cloud they were only two minutes from. And, “impact?” How do you impact a cloud? How did Bogle ever become an XO in the first place? The admiral like her looks? It happened before. The girl didn’t seem to have the stomach for adrenaline or chaos.

  An electric bolt zoomed past them and slammed into the ground. It churned more dust into the air. Another and another whizzed by, blowing up more dirt, rock, and ice.

  Rivkah pulled on the control stick. She wanted to get a bird’s eye view of what these thousands upon thousands of bolts slinging past them and erupting on the ground were for. Was something trying to get through, yet this shielding technique kept it at bay?

  “One minute until impact,” said Bogle.

  Rivkah wanted to rap her on the head. Instead, she remained silent, narrowing her eyes to what might be coming after the dust. The craft made a sharp incline and headed straight over the debris cloud.

  Rivkah leaned forward. She wanted to grab the scales of the half human, half reptile Kelhoons below and fling them across the smoking hills in front of them.

  The Kelhoon swarmed over the hillside. They destroyed everything in their path. As far as the eye could see, cities were engulfed in black, thick plumes. The Kelhoons must have hit these people quick and hard, an assault that the inhabitants of East Rise were utterly unprepared to fend off.

  Thick, smoldering ashes billowed upward into the graying sky, then fell to the ground like snow. A blood bath. Dead Atlanteans were sprinkled across the land in golden armor. Three pronged tridents lay by their sides. Others ran toward the north, blasting Kelhoon pursuers with laser-like beams that expelled from each trident prong.

  Hundreds of children were being led to one of the many pyramids in East Rise. Energy bracelet restraints tied the children together with an energy chain. A young girl, maybe ten or so, walked in the back. A Kelhoon whipped her. A lash struck the girl in the face, and she fell to the ground. Motionless.

  Rivkah unstrapped from her chair and stood. She wanted to break every bone in that asshole’s body. A man harming a girl? The Kelhoon might as well be Rivkah’s father and she the girl in the back of the pack, getting whipped like a sick puppy, then lights out.

  Rivkah grasped the control stick, then pressed several buttons on the holographic display console. She had to take over this ship, had to turn on weapons and blast that evil Kelhoon where he stood. Hell, maybe they could rescue the children. She kicked the console. “How do you override this thing?”

  Bogle held her hands over her mouth, shaking her head. “Why is Grenik Star allowing this? Why is Liberty letting this happen? They aren’t helping the fight.”

  “Because they are pricks of the highest sort, now—”

  A squad of angry Kelhoon Starfighter LL-Class 4’s appeared over the lip of the hills. Rivkah held her breath. Yes, this Liberty character had led these two nitwits to their slaughter. Rivkah had fallen for it.

  “We call those starfighters, Leaping Lizards,” said Bogle, her words barely audible.

  “Yes, I know what they’re called. Now, help me re-wire this ship so we can have a nano-second of a chance to survive.”

  Dozens of wide, almond-shaped starfighters zipped by them, quickly reaching the lip of the hills and meeting the Kelhoon starfighter’s head on. Electric bolts expelled from the almond-shaped crafts and hammered the Leaping Lizards. Explosions, falling debris, and fires lit the hilltops, ending the Kelhoon squadron before they had a chance to engage.

  “That won’t happen a second time,” said Rivkah. “Kelhoons learn from their mistakes.”

  The almond-shaped starfighters cut left, banking wide, strafing the Kelhoon chasing the Atlantean warriors. Kelhoon infantry dove to the ground. Many were ripped to shreds by tracer fire.

  Rivkah zoomed in on the handcuffed children. The girl who had been whipped was being dragged along. For a moment, Rivkah’s heart went out to her. No child should be treated in such a way. If she could jump out, take out the Kelhoon soldier, and release those children, she would without a thought.

  “Is there a communication link on this thing?” said Rivkah. “We need to let them know about the children.”

  Bogle unstrapped herself and scoured the craft for anything that might be a comm unit. She pressed a button. “Executive Officer Katherine Bogle here. Does anyone read me? Clear.”

  No response.

  “Anyone?”

  Again, silence.

  She pressed more buttons, repeating her questions.

  Nothing.

  Rivkah rummaged around the cockpit for anything that might be a comm device, opening a long, oval chest in the rear of the craft. Tridents, armor, helmets, boots, and odd lightning-shaped guns were organized in the chest, asking to be taken.

  The craft shuddered, then shifted to the right. It flew over a pyramid’s golden apex. A flash of white light engulfed the transport and a static sound erupted throughout the cockpit.

  Rivkah looked at her feet and plugged her ears. Bogle did the same.

  The white light faded and the static disappeared. Rivkah found herself on the floor. She scanned the vid screen and her chin dropped. They were in the forest they’d taken off from and Liberty stood next to a tree. She held a slack expression. Her mouth curled downward. Placing her hands together at her chest, she dipped her head and motioned for them to exit the craft.

  32

  J-Quadrant, Solar System - Flood of Dawn, Callisto

  Rivkah stepped down the ramp, her forehead low. “Was that a figment of our imagination, or is that what’s really happening at this very moment?”

  “The pyramid’s golden apex teleported you back here. That was not your imagination. The Kelhoons are here in full force. That’s why we need you.”

  Rivkah remembered the little girl and her heart skipped a beat. “Get me over there.”

  “I wish I could, but we have to wait.”

  “Wait for what?” asked Bogle as she walked down the ramp behind Rivkah.

  “Wait for the other two. Captain Fox and Lieutenant Kaden Jaxx. They’re here now.”

  Rivkah stood more erect. “Where?”

  “You’ll see them soon.”

  33

  J-Quadrant, Solar System - Flood of Dawn, Callisto

  Fox had his fingers around Jaxx’s neck, squeezing, lifting Jaxx off the ground and above his head. Jaxx imagined Fox as Darth Vader.

  The thought quickly changed when he couldn’t take a breath. He felt the blood drain from his face and his eyes bulged in their sockets. He brought his hands up, scratching and tearing at Fox’s steely grip, trying to break it lose from his neck. It didn’
t work. He kneed Fox in the chest with all his might. Fox moved an inch, but squeezed tighter.

  “Where the hell are we, Jaxx?”

  Jaxx wanted to shake his head, but in his current predicament, he was bound by the law of physics and the law of someone choking him. All he could do was shrug.

  “You don’t know?” He threw Jaxx across the room.

  Jaxx landed with a thud, his back hitting hard on the floor. He rolled and took in much needed air, then coughed.

  “Where have you brought me, Jaxx?” Fox kicked Jaxx in the ribs, not waiting for an answer.

  Jaxx let out an “Oomph!” and curled into a ball, covering his head. Another kick landed on Jaxx’s stomach and Jaxx gasped for air. The wind knocked out of him, he scrunched into more of a ball.

  Fox tittered, widening his stance, then brought back his leg for a more intense blow.

  For the umpteenth time, Jaxx’s emotions gathered in his belly and welled. The kick came swiftly and he caught it, shaking with frustration and anger. Enough was enough. He transferred all of the energy he had and threw it outward. Fox flung head over heels onto the floor. The guy’s face took the brunt of the fall.

  Jaxx stood, hands in fists by his side.

  Fox wiped his lip and spat out a tooth, then stood slowly. “You made me bleed Jaxx. I like to bleed.”

  Jaxx lowered his gaze. “I’m not a weakling like you think. If you come any closer, you’ll understand the power I yield.”

  “You act like a pussy, Jaxx. I’m not scared of pussies.” He took a step forward, then lunged. He reared his arm back and swung for a nice fist to Jaxx’s face.

  Jaxx crouched and brought his hands up, grasping Fox’s punching arm and spun Fox off his feet, throwing him across the room again. Jaxx ran toward Fox and took a flying leap. His knee landed on Fox’s chest. Curling his fingers, he threw a fist at Fox’s nose, hearing the snap of a broken bone penetrate the air. Fox’s nose shifted to the side, clearly broken in a couple of places. Blood covered Fox’s mouth and cheeks.

  Jaxx lifted his hands in fighting position and heaved like a race horse after the Kentucky Derby. “Don’t try anything else, Fox.”

  A door slid open. The smell of roses filled the room. Startled, Jaxx spun on his heels, readying himself for whatever else was to come. A woman stood at the door.

  Jaxx dropped to one knee, clutching his hand to his heart. Rivkah was near. He used his mind to find her and caught a glimpse of her at the base of a ship. A ship he’d never seen before.

  The woman at the dome’s opening was his height, toned, and wore a white dress with a metallic rose pinned at the shoulder. Trees, purplish-pink in color, were behind her.

  He narrowed his eyes. “Where is she?”

  The woman motioned with her arm to somewhere off in the distance. Somewhere he couldn’t see. “She’s here.”

  “Take me to her.”

  “As you wish.” She gestured to Fox. “But first, you must find a truce between you and your brother.”

  Jaxx tilted his head, his jaw slack. “My brother?”

  “You are blood.”

  Fox wiped the blood off his face. “No. We’re not. I met this son of a bitch in the Secret Space Program.”

  “You had two different parents who weren’t your blood parents. You aren’t who you think you are, Jaxx. You and Fox aren’t human.”

  34

  Charlotte, North Carolina - Earth

  Drew about pissed his pants. The tank’s turret turned, the cannon lowered, aiming directly at Drew and Mya and the car they were stopped in. He glanced in his rear-view mirror. For a second time in this car, foreign troops were behind them, running in their direction, getting closer. Buildings were on their right and left. No escape.

  An enemy troop took aim.

  “Duck.” He threw an arm over Mya, pulling them both below the dash.

  A shot rang out. Cannon fire. Machine guns cracked the air. Another cannon. His car shook. He looked at his hands. He was still alive. He looked at Mya. She was still alive too. Leaning her head against the door’s armrest, she blankly stared at the sky through the windshield.

  Half-expecting his car would be riddled with bullets or a hole through it from cannon fire, it hadn’t been touched. He peeked above the steering wheel. The tanks turret had shifted and shot another round over their car. He looked behind him. The man who had aimed at them was on his side, the rifle resting against his body. Blood oozed from his head. Foreign troops raced to take cover.

  He put the car in reverse and put his foot on the gas. The tires spun, then took hold, and he gripped the wheel, veins bulging on his hands, his knuckles pale white. He steered the fastest way out of here—the only way out of his predicament—straight through the battle.

  A thud and his car bounced up and down, driving over the dead soldier that tried to make Drew “dead” only moments before.

  His heart raced, something he was getting all too used to without the weed soaking through his body. He hadn’t had a bong hit in days.

  He turned the wheel and pressed the brakes. The car spun. Drew shifted the car into drive. Mya closed her eyes and a tear streaked down her face. Drew wanted to console her, tell her everything was going to be alright but he’d be lying.

  He pressed the pedal to the floor as bullets sparked against the street and sidewalks. Enemy soldiers fell like dominoes. He sped forward and turned down a street, then floored the brakes.

  He went flying forward, the car honking from his chest’s impact against the wheel. “Whoa! Back up, back up, back up.”

  He reversed. Foreign jeeps with gunners came his way. He checked Mya. The seatbelt kept her strapped in. Safe.

  He turned the wheel and sped down a different street, then zig zagged around abandoned cars, shot to shit, some burning, some already half rubble. A dead, burnt up corpse was in one.

  He bit his lip. He and Mya would be like that person if they didn’t get out of here fast.

  He hung a right on West 4th Street, never in his life thinking he’d be driving this fast down any inner city.

  Jikoooosh!

  Jikoooosh!

  The ground vibrated. Two jets flew low, way too low. A black one in the lead, a gray, United States military plane on its tail. Then the world shook. The black jet became a fire ball, splitting in two, a wing splintering off, a poof of smoke and debris billowing toward the sky behind several buildings.

  The other half careened toward Drew.

  “No, no. You gotta be kidding me.”

  He put his arm in front of Mya. Half the jet fell faster toward them. He took a right on Gesco Street. The earth trembled from the jet’s impact, a cloud of fire sucked in the air behind them, and a plume of smoke blew outward an instant later.

  He hung a left on State Street, skidding out, nearly hitting an abandoned car. A right on Tuckasagee Road. He curled around the long bend. An inner smile overtook Drew. I-85 was in view. Once on the interstate, he’d be heading out of town and to Michael Anderle at Lookout Mountain, Tennessee.

  For a minute, everything was calm, except him. He looked down at Mya. She was asleep, probably from the trauma. She rested her cheek against his arm. He placed his knee at the bottom of the wheel, keeping the car straight.

  He flicked on the radio.

  To his surprise, someone was talking.

  “...they aren’t sending help, people. To any of those listening to me, then listen to my words very clearly. They aren’t sending help. Really, you think they are? Then, tell me, where’s our allies? Shouldn’t they have been here by now? Didn’t they see the Chinese coming? We’re losing a piece of our country every single day and the rest of the world sits idly by, laughing their asses off. Our interim President, Jefferson Kennedy, says he’s still in communication with our allies. He suggests they’re sending their forces, but I’m saying if they aren’t here already, they ain’t coming.” It was Bob Larson, the neo-con, racist who claimed he wasn’t a neo-con or a racist. He was still on the air?


  Drew merged onto I-85. Not a driver was in sight. Hopefully it would stay that way until he arrived to Tennessee. He didn’t want lines of cars with freaked out people slowing him down.

  “The Chinese and the North Koreans are making mincemeat of our military. Half of our guys are on bases overseas, no doubt trying to get to us right now. That’s what I was saying for years. The United States isn’t here to police the world. We were supposed to stay out of foreign entanglements and affairs, just as George Washington practically yelled at our nation to do. And, what are we up to? Crapping all over his intentions, over his genius, and over his years of service to bring us freedom...”

  Drew clicked off the radio. He checked his gas.

  “Half-full?”

  That wasn’t going to get him to Tennessee.

  35

  J-Quadrant, Solar System - Flood of Dawn, Callisto

  Jaxx stared open mouthed at the woman before him. She was lying. She had to be but he couldn’t get a read on her if she was. He shook his head. “Fox is not my brother. And, for crap-sakes, I’m human.” He thumbed over his shoulder. “This guy has been trying to kill me for I don’t know how long.”

  Fox stepped forward and brought his fist up, ready to pound Jaxx to the ground.

  “Halt.” The woman walked into the dome. “There will be no more fighting.”

  “Like you can stop—” Fox fell and jerked back and forth as if an electrical current ran through him like a stun charge from an PR-8. It faded as quickly as it came. He rubbed his head, grunting, sitting on his butt, most likely too pissed to say anything.