Ascendant Saga Collection: Sci-Fi Fantasy Techno Thriller

by Brandon Ellis

  “They’re using this place as an experiment?” asked Drew.

  “A few weeks after the government took themselves off planet in those rocket ships, we were setting up our own government, our own peaceful, beautiful place. It was crazy at first. The place filled up with a bunch of militia types and hippies, but they were able to adjust. It was a get-along kinda town. Then a Marine showed up, then another, as if surveying the area. They took over this place, set up their own government with restrictions, rations, and curfews and to top it off, they rolled out this massive shield and some crazy-ass weapons. Weapons even our military vets had never heard of before.” She shrugged. “Then, what do you know? Massive ships come in about a week later dropping bombs on the shield. Like-for-like energy, as they say.”

  “Are you saying they attracted the ET’s?” asked Drew, jerking back as another explosion rocked the building.

  “Yes. We were fine before the Marine’s showed up. They practically put a homing beacon on us,” said Carl. He grunted, shifting in his stance, clearly frustrated. “And that little girl. The gifted one? It’s her doing. They are attracted to her. I guarantee it. Once we get out of here, she’s got my first trigger-happy shot.”

  The words hit Drew like a punch to the chest. Killing Mya wasn’t going to happen on his watch. Mya was an innocent, sweet young girl with no ill-will toward anyone. She’d protected the city with her weird-ass mutant powers. “They started coming before the girl was even here, Carl. Hell, when we landed in the helicopters, the ET’s were practically on top of Whitefish.”

  Carl pointed his rifle at Drew. “You arrived with her?”

  Drew quickly shook his head no. It was a lie, but if it meant saving his own skin, sure he was gonna veer from the truth. “I meant to say I saw her land. And those ET’s have been screwing shit up all over the world, not just here.” Drew wanted Carl’s mind on something other than Mya.

  “Carl, stop being an ass. If you don’t, I’ll shove this rifle straight up your ass. Understand?” Megan leaned against a wall, her rifle between her crossed arms, her eyes like guns about to go off in Carl’s face. “And Drew—”

  The alarms turned off. Suddenly and strangely. Did all the power in the city go off? One look at the still lit light bulb answered his question, telling him a flat, no. Were the alarms destroyed somehow?

  Someone rapped on their basement door.

  They crouched, aiming their weapons at the door.

  Megan shook her head and put her fingers to her lips.

  Another knock. “This is Lieutenant Sawyer of the United States Marine Corps. We know you’re in there and we need you to open up.”

  Carl thrust his rifle forward, taking a few steps toward the door. “You open that door and we’ll—”

  Megan pushed Carl’s rifle down. “Don’t be a nut.” She walked over and placed her hand on the lock, unlatched it, then opened the door.

  A young, handsome man stood in Marine Corp garb. He took his hat off and tucked it under his armpit like they used to in old war movies. “We have to leave.” Sawyers eyes moved from Megan to Drew. “We have a ship waiting for you.”

  “For me?” asked Drew.

  “No, for all of you. We’re losing the city. We have to get out as many people we as we can.”

  There was something odd with the way this guy talked. His mouth exaggerated every word, and why the hell wasn’t he out of breath, worried, or even seeming to be in a hurry? The idea that he was trying too hard at being human flashed across Drew’s mind.

  Sawyer changed his demeanor, panting and rushing his words.

  Too creepy. It was like the guy had read his mind.

  “Yes, yes. We have to go. Time is of the essence.” The Marine glanced at his watch. “We’re leaving in three minutes.” He turned and strode up the steps. Each stride was perfectly measured. Nothing about his demeanor said he was in a panic. Drew’s antennae were on high alert.

  “Let’s go, guys,” said Carl. He bounded up the stairs.

  Megan gave Drew a look. If he was reading her correctly, she had the same misgivings as him. Drew wanted to ask his mom if this guy was someone to trust, but the two of them followed him upstairs anyway.

  Kackow!

  A blast next to the bar rocked the building. Drew fell against the wall and Megan fell against him. She took a step back and slipped. Drew caught her in one arm and for a moment, they looked deeply into each other’s eyes. Megan had human eyes, emotions, love, fear, and everything in between.

  Drew flashed back to his first sighting of the Marine. Lieutenant Sawyer’s were not human. They held no emotion, no realness to them.

  Drew let go of Megan and dashed after Carl. “Carl, wait!”

  Just behind Carl, Drew reached passed him and grabbed Sawyer’s arm. He just needed to look him in the eye one more time. Just to make sure that his gut wasn’t off.

  Drew gasped.

  The Marine’s arm transformed into a purple, fat-looking, alien arm, then immediately shape-shifted back into a human arm.

  What the hell?

  Drew pulled Carl back toward the basement door. His tongue was stuck to the roof of his mouth. He wanted to warn Carl, but the words wouldn’t come.

  Carl pushed Drew off of him. “What the hell, man?”

  Sawyer turned. “Is there a problem?” His features transformed for a moment, revealing large, almond-shaped eyes, bright purple skin, and a wide face. Again, it shape-shifted back to human.

  Carl lifted his rifle, aimed, and took a shot at the shape-shifting Marine. The gun blasted, pushing an already unstable Carl into Drew. Carl’s head smashed against Drew’s forehead. Drew put his hand up to grab the railing, but was too late. He was off his feet and falling toward the bottom of the stairs.

  First, his butt hit, then his back, and lastly, his head cracked on the concrete floor.

  Carl came crashing down on top of him.

  Drew’s breath was knocked out of him and his gun went flailing. He pushed Carl off and Carl rolled into the basement, holding his stomach.

  Megan yanked Drew all the way into the basement, his heels dragging, and slammed the door shut, locking it.

  Drew, holding his side, gasping for breath, leaned over in a stoop, eyeing Carl, his head aching.

  Carl was breathing heavily, his eyes wide. “What in the name of Jupiter was that?”

  Drew and Megan took a step back.

  Carl’s hands, arms, and chest were covered in blood. Purple blood.

  10

  J-Quadrant, Solar System - South of East Rise, Callisto

  The Agadon combat-mech aimed and its forearm cannon sent forth an ion burst, headed right for Rivkah. If it hit, Abdu and Bogle would turn into a pile of fiery dust along with her.

  Her idea to climb this rock wall on the back of a lion, with a dying woman in her arms, was a dumb idea, and her failure was going to take the lives of her two friends.

  Abdu crouched in his climb, his toes curling around two small rocks that jutted out of the cliff wall. He roared like the lion he was, and leaped upward. The wall shuddered as the ion charge pounded into the rockface. It missed its mark, but sent shards of rocky shrapnel toward the trio.

  “Hurry,” yelled Rivkah.

  “Two more leaps and we’re above the lip,” responded Abdu.

  Rivkah held Bogle with one arm, clutching Abdu’s chains that crisscrossed his torso with her other. If it wasn’t for the Chi that Rivkah had running through her body, this feat alone would be beyond impossible.

  Abdu crouched a second time and jumped upward. He snagged the jutting rocks above him.

  Wapooo!

  Another burst of fury was heading their way.

  Rivkah shot a look over her shoulder, dreading the inevitable.

  Abdu pushed off, the wind whipping through his mane. They landed just over the lip of the cliff as another explosion cracked across the rock wall. Abdu lost his balance, sending Rivkah and Bogle sliding across the ground.

  Rivka
h stopped her slide, pressing her hands on the snowy terrain. She spun around, ready to get up.

  Abdu was already on one knee, eyeing the combat-mech through his scope. He held steady.

  Rivkah shook her head, her lips pursed, her eyes narrowed. They needed to run, but Abdu wasn’t moving, wasn’t budging an inch.

  “We have to get out of here,” screamed Rivkah, rushing toward Abdu.

  Abdu put a hand up and let out a mew.

  A strong force pushed Rivkah away and onto her back. She skidded across the snow-covered rocks. “What the…” She wiped her hands together, patting the snow off her palms, and quickly got to her feet.

  The Agadon mech raised its arm, targeting Abdu’s position.

  Abdu’s bamboo rifle recoiled against his shoulder and a purple burst shot forward, zipping into the Agadon mech’s cannon. The cannon sparkled, electricity dancing around the muzzle in a haze of wild blues and purples, then imploded, tearing the mech’s arm in half. Another explosion blasted outward on the mech’s upper arm, a chain reaction that Abdu nodded at, almost as if expecting it to happen.

  The mech dropped to its knees, then stumbled forward—shutting down. The thing was out of commission, smoking like a chimney.

  Abdu strapped his rifle over his back, then raced over to Bogle. She was on the ground, unconscious, her body pale—almost white.

  He bent down and touched her forehead, his eyes heavy with unmistakable melancholy. “She has passed to the next world.”

  Rivkah stiffened. “She’s dead?”

  Abdu nodded and slid his fingers down Bogle’s eyelids, shutting them. “The prophecy is doomed.”

  Another Agadon combat-mech’s foot rocked the ground. Abdu dashed toward Rivkah. “We must push forward if we want to live.”

  “We can’t just leave Bogle there. We have to bury her, or…do something.” Muscles tensed up, her eyes clouding with worry. “We’ve failed everyone.” She swallowed, closing her eyes, willing Bogle to get up and run. She opened her eyes. Bogle lay there, breathless. Dead.

  Abdu grasped Rivkah’s forearm. “Unless you wish to be buried as well, we need to go.” His purple eyes flashed, penetrating deep into her own.

  A vibration went through her. She knew, without needing to ask, that the energy was from Abdu. For the first time, Rivkah felt a high wisdom coming from him and into her like a caring, trusting father to his daughter. Maybe this is what family was like—loving and protective. He didn’t want her. He didn’t need her. He loved her for who she was, not for what she looked like or what her body could offer him. He cared for her safety, more so than some damn prophecy.

  But how did she know this by a single look? She shook her head. She could think on it later. She needed to focus. She had a mission. She couldn’t lose sight of it, not even if Bogle was dead and Abdu was beaming unconditional love at her. She needed to concentrate all her energy on saving the children who were being enslaved by the Kelhoon. That was her sole purpose. Nothing else mattered. She needed to halt her father’s effort to bring more slaves to Callisto and use them as cattle, killing of the weak and sickly kids who didn’t make the cut. Her father’s effort? She paused, correcting her thoughts. No, Colonel Slade’s effort. She smiled at her Leonian friend. “If the prophecy is off, I still have something of importance I need to do. Will you join me, Abdu?”

  Abdu looked over his shoulder. An Agadon mech was headed for his fallen comrade. “Yes.”

  She nodded and closed her eyes. Her vision expanded and she saw his trail—Slade’s energy signature. It was an etheric ribbon, flowing in the wind, moving across hills and to the walled city.

  It was due south from her position. She took a step forward. “Thank you, Abdu.”

  11

  J-Quadrant, Solar System - Namuh Farms, Callisto

  Slade opened the barn door of the warehouse—a warehouse full of child slaves. Cinnamon essential oils wafted on the breeze. He drank in the delightful aroma. The cinnamon, mixed with lemon oils, kept the children healthy, according to the Kelhoon factory-farm workers he employed. An employment that would end as soon as he hired some humans. Humans were much easier to look at.

  A Kelhoon raised his arm, a bullwhip in his hand, the zap of electric charges dropping off the whip and sizzling the floor. A child cowered before the Kelhoon, her hands over her face, crying for her mommy.

  The kids were housed in small shacks, though they had access to the walkways outside their temporary housing. The kids whimpered and sobbed, huddling up against their shack walls in a feeble attempt to touch one another through the slats. A young boy—no more than six years old—slouched out one of the little houses, rubbing his tummy, his face contorted in fear. He shuffled across the slated ground and reached into a long bin full of seeds and nuts. He took two handfuls and placed them in his mouth. He chewed, taking a glance at Slade, then giving a double-look.

  Hope filled the kid’s eyes, as if Slade had come to rescue him, to take him back into his parent’s loving arms.

  Damn. This was too hard for even Slade to handle. He turned on his heels, nodded at the Kelhoon guards next to the door, and walked back outside. He slammed the warehouse door shut, and for a moment, stared at the sky. How was President Craig Martelle going to stomach this? The guy had his own children. He’d soon find compassion and empathy for these slaves, because he had empathy and compassion for his own children.

  That’s how regular people worked, apparently.

  That would screw up Slade’s agenda.

  “Colonel,” came Craig’s voice.

  Slade spun around, folding his hands across his chest.

  Craig was by himself, crisp and clean, in a suit and tie.

  “Where are your kids?”

  Craig thumbed over his shoulder. “Back at the castle in the west wing. They—” Craig paused, raising one brow. “Are you alright? You look like you just saw a ghost.”

  Slade shrugged. The ghost he’d seen was the president. This was not the time or place for Craig to show up. “Why are you here?”

  Craig stood straighter, more presidential. He gave a curt stare. Slade had seen it before. Craig expected people to bow and scrape and do as they were told. He was not accustomed to answering questions.

  “To see the operation. Why else would I be here?”

  Slade grabbed Craig’s arm and led him away from the warehouse. “You can’t visit the slaves now. The Kelhoon are training them. It’s not for your eyes.”

  Craig stood his ground. “I need to see them in order for me to understand how this process of factory-farming humans works. I need to see every process.” He cocked his head. “I’m the president, Slade. I can haul your ass to another planet if I so choose. Let go of my arm.”

  Slade didn’t realize how hard he was grasping the president’s forearm. He let go and stared down at his feet. He’d act the submissive part for a while, because no matter what, he couldn’t let Craig see the kids until he felt Craig had toughened up. Or seen how lucrative the slave trade was going to be for the two of them. Perhaps the latter would secure the former. Nothing like money to make you avert your gaze from something unpalatable. “I’m sorry, Mr. President. I can’t let you see them today. But I have something to show you that will blow your mind.”

  “I’m going in there, Slade.” Craig stormed toward the warehouse doors.

  “Stop.” Slade hurried around Craig and stepped in front of his path, blocking him. “I’m serious. What I’m going to show you is the real reason we’re here. It’s not because of slaves or factory-farming, it’s because of what I’m going to show you down there.” He pointed to the ground. Even though there was a great discovery under their feet, Slade was spewing complete bullshit. They were here for factory farming. They were here for a cut in the galactic slave trade. They were not here for what was down there. Slade couldn’t allow the president to change his mind on the slave trade and factory farming operation. What the president would see once he walked through the warehouse doors w
ould change his mind so fast, Slade couldn’t let him go in there.

  Craig puffed out his chest, eyeing Slade like a father to a son. “Don’t screw with me anymore, Slade. No more.”

  Slade held his gaze. He couldn’t be the first one to blink.

  Craig let out an exasperated sigh and dropped his shoulders in defeat. “You have my attention. What’s more important than our operation?”

  Slade nodded—a lying nod. “Follow me.”

  They walked down an empty street. There were no cars, no buses, no pedestrians, but there were impressive buildings, towering above them. Apart from the absence of all traffic, the place was a dead ringer for a New York street.

  Craig was talking, none of it important. Slade zoned him out. If Craig hadn’t been the damn president, he’d have slit the guy’s throat just for breathing and threatening his new farm. However, he needed the president. The Kelhoon were complete suckers for status and the Prez was the highest-ranking official around.

  They walked up a flight of cemented steps. They reminded Slade of the steps at the Lincoln Memorial in the United States capital. Slade opened a large, arched door at the building’s entrance. They stepped into a lobby fancied with granite tile floors and marble walls and ceilings.

  Craig flashed an angry eye at Slade. “This isn’t under the ground.” His temper began to rise.

  “Trust me.” Slade clicked the elevator’s down arrow. “You’ll like it.”

  Craig’s face flushed red. “Another bullshit secret you haven’t told me about.”

  The doors dinged open and Slade gestured for Craig to walk inside.

  Craig put his foot against one of the doors, keeping the elevator door open. “I am sick of your bullshit secrets. You will tell me what’s down there. Now.”

  “Again, trust me,” said Slade. “You will want to see this with your own eyes.”

  Craig shook his head. “Last chance, Slade. You tell me what I want to know or I’ll have you demoted so fast, your head will spin off its axis.”