Ascendant Saga Collection: Sci-Fi Fantasy Techno Thriller Brandon Ellis (ebook reader for comics txt) 📖

from going in more than a few centimeters into the strike hole, allowing him to slip anything between the face plate and the door jamb to easily open it if needed. When he needed to. And tonight, he’d get his butt back in here.

Anderle was still practicing his dance moves, oblivious.

10

Edge of M-Quadrant, Nearing Jupiter - Starship Atlantis

Senator Ken Furr waved his hand over the holographic keyboard. The holocomputer snapped on, the desk forming a screen in front of him.

TELEGRAM… TELEGRAM… TELEGRAM... flashed on the screen.

“I’ve never seen anything like this.”

“Ken, can we get back to the movie?” asked his wife.

He glanced over his shoulder and frowned, the movie on pause, the love seat less one person—himself. “Excuse me, dear. Give me a second. This is urgent.”

He tapped on the words and a holovid flashed before him, showing scene after scene, communication after communication. Slade Roberson and President Martelle were chatting it up with Fleet Admiral Lon Vernadore of the Secret Space Program.

Ken leaned back in his chair and watched the dialogue for several minutes.

“We need you to go over the battle plan, Colonel,” said Lon, clenching his jaw.

“We drop in west and south of the city, away from their turrets,” responded Slade.

Lon spoke through gritted teeth. “Look, Colonel. The inhabitants of Callisto blasted Star Warden—one of the biggest and most fortified ships in our fleet—out of the sky in less than a half an hour. How do we know they don’t have more turrets west and south of the city?”

Craig chimed in. “The reconnaissance ship we sent out earlier located the turrets east and north of the city. There’s nothing west or south. Confirmed.”

“You sent a reconnaissance ship without telling me?”

“It was before you arrived, Fleet Admiral,” replied Slade. “Get your head wrapped around this, Lon. We are attacking Callisto with your Secret Space Program squadrons and troops. We can keep you as head honcho or Craig here can take over.”

Lon eyed the president. “You good with your colleague’s plan, Mr. President?”

Craig dipped his head. “I am.”

Lon’s face contorted, his lips quivering in anger. “Then it’s done. We commence drills starting today. We’ll invade four days ahead of your scheduled landing on Callisto. We’ll wipe them clean and off the face of that moon. Out.”

The holographic monitor blipped off and Ken’s shoulder’s drooped. His back spasmed. Poor posture led to maximal pain. He straightened in his chair and rubbed his eyes. This couldn’t be happening. This wasn’t true. It had to be a joke.

He was a man of principal. A man who despised war and every political act that sparked deadly conflict. His heart stirred and his eyes glistened, tears welling up, not of sadness, but of fury for Craig’s and Slade’s plan to commit genocide under the noses of the very people who’d ushered them into power.

This wasn’t a trek to the stars for humanity to invade and kill other races and worlds. That’s not why he had signed up. He signed up under a lie, a pretense that they were traveling to a currently-uninhabited moon, to setup shop so the rest of humanity could ultimately join them and they could all, collectively, avoid the inevitable climate disaster heading Earth’s way. That was the bill of goods President Martelle had sold them. And it had been a pack of lies from start to finish. His gut rolled, acid threatening to eat its way up his gullet.

“What was that, Ken?” His wife looked as lovely as the day they’d first met. Her arm was draped over the back of the love seat, but it was her eyes that caught him every time. They told him he was loved, respected, and treasured and always would be. He could stare into those pools of love forever.

Her lips turned down and she straightened her shawl over her shoulders. “Hon, why are you crying?”

Ken wiped his cheek, not realizing a few tears had escaped. He dismissed her with the dip of his head. He never dismissed her.

He clicked the comm line. “Bring up Governor Boz Brown, please.”

“Boz here. What’s up, Ken?”

“Assemble all politicians in the auditorium. We have an emergency meeting straight away. Do not invite the President or the Colonel Slade Roberson.”

Ken swiped his badge on Starship Atlantis’s auxiliary engine’s room control panel. The door slid open. The sound of metal against metal screeched across the gigantic room, wheels turning on wheels, and impulse reactors inside long tubes spat lightning against the tube’s glass, splattering electric blue light against the walls.

A woman, with grease smeared across her forehead, goggles too big for her face, and a white, dirty uniform came forward with a wrench in her hand. “Can I help you, Sir?”

“I’m Senator Ken—”

“I know who you are. Can I help you?”

“Here.” He handed her a folded piece of paper.

She read it over and glanced up at the Senator, then took another glance at the letter. She shook her head in disdain. “Hell no. Not happening.”

“I can force you to turn everything off. But, all I’m asking is for you to slow the ship down.”

“That will take us away from our set ETA.” She wiped her cheek, pressing her tongue into the side of her bottom lip, giving him the stink eye. “This ain’t happening, no matter who you are. The orders come from the top. You ain’t the top, man.” She handed him back the letter.

“I’m the top man now.” He whistled and a gang of troops, rifles up, marched into the bay. “You do what we ask or we apprehend you and everyone else in this room.”

A guy walked up, greasy, disheveled hair, smelling of cigarette smoke, and wearing goggles also too big for his head. He took his goggles off. “I’m the chief here. No one turns these engines off but by the skin off my back.”

“Arrest him,” ordered Ken.

The guy moved backwards, hands up. “Get your measly paws off of me...”

The guards pushed him against the wall and tripped him to the floor, slapping