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

Everyone on Deck 7, the deck they were currently on, was asleep, including half the starship soldier’s stationed down in the lower bunks.

The politicians rushed the hall and lined up two per room, one holding a holographic display device.

Ken stood in front of a military barrack’s door with Governor Boz Brown, a large African American man, known for his dedication to the Constitution and the people, always making it difficult for congress to pass any erroneous laws and bills the government tried to backslide past the American people back on Earth.

Boz, like Ken, was a hound when it came to protecting the people.

Boz held an HDC device in hand.

Ken held up his hand, his heart pumping too many beats to count. He had never done such a thing, but who had? But he had to do this.

He dropped his hand, his mouth close to the helmet mic that linked to all the politicians’ helmets who volunteered for this mission: Troop Grab. A shitty name, but who cared. “Open the doors now.”

Boz inserted the swipe card in the control box next to the door.

Phhst!

The door slid open.

Ken rushed in, Boz right behind. He imagined the rest of his band of mutineers were doing the same. “This is the United States government! This is not a drill!”

Each bunk room had exactly twenty-six troops. Every sleeping soldier in the room bolted upright, woken from a dead sleep, their eyes wild.

“I’m Ken Furr, Senator. We’re taking control of the ship, under Universal Starship Laws, code two.” The Constitution had provisions for replacing a corrupt President, but this was a military ship, in space. Those rules apparently didn’t apply. They hadn’t gotten around to making Constitutional Law in Space. Ken was flying by the seat of his pants, making it up as he went along. “We’re changing your status. You’re no longer working for President Craig Martelle. He has broken Law Pact Nine-Zero-Nine.” Another made-up law. Whatever. As long as they complied, who cared? They could write the law into statute after the fact. “You’re working for your United States Government now.”

Several troops pushed out of their bunks, some in their underwear, others in boxers or sweats. Commotion filled the room.

A holographic video shot out from Boz’ HDC device, the vid hovering toward the ceiling.

“What’s going on?” said a soldier.

A few took a few steps forward, their eyes betraying their usual steady expressions.

It was a video of every communication stream that the President of the United States of America and Colonel Slade Roberson had with Kajka Okbak, the supreme leader of the Kelhoon. They watched as their President setup the troops and every person on the starship.

They were going to be farmed like animals.

They were going to be used as food throughout the Kelhoon planetary systems.

The strongest would be used as slaves, until it was time for them to land on a Kelhoon plate.

“So,” said President Martelle on the vid stream. “You’ll have us set up nicely on Callisto. That’s our deal. Slade and I will be the head of the slave trade.”

“Koonja kanga.”

Slade grinned. “You’ll be compensating us more than our world’s richest.”

“Oojkana.”

Slade and Craig both dipped their heads. “Agreed.”

Boz turned the holographic screen off.

A Marine, big, built and buff, walked up to Ken, fury in his eyes. “Reporting for duty, Sir.”

24

Unknown, Callisto - J-Quadrant, Solar System

Hot flames kicked up, crackling brush and sticks echoed against the crags, and yellowish-red light flickered on the rocks. A warmth touched the side of Rivkah’s face, a cold tinged the other side.

She touched her face and took a breath. She was alive. No, it couldn’t be. Fire? Was she in Hell?

She shook her head, whispering, “No such thing.” Death was death. Nothing more. Once you’re gone, you’re out of here; blackness. Nothingness.

She sat and gathered herself. She rolled her neck. She was in a cave. A deep cave. She couldn’t see an opening, no exit, no entrance. Perhaps it was around the corner, but no draft meant an opening wasn’t near.

A rock fell from some place high. She pushed herself into a crouch, almost falling over from dizziness. “Who’s there?” She massaged her temples, doing her best to keep herself awake and to tame the spinning world around her.

Another rock fell and boots crunched against gravel. Someone was walking toward her, though it came deep from within the shadows.

Rivkah went to grab her gun.

It wasn’t there. “Damn you, Fox.” He’d taken it from her. He left her vulnerable. Hell, he shot her. But if he did, then why wasn’t she dead? And since she was most certainly shot by the coward—she touched her chest, pressing on her collar bones and sternum—then why wasn’t there a hole?

He stunned her. But why?

“Because he saw me, Rivkah. And those Kelhoon wanted one of you dead. A fake death, but regardless, it worked.”

Rivkah moved behind the fire, using it as a barrier between herself and whoever was coming from behind the shadows. “Who are you?”

A black boot stepped into the light, then blue pants, and finally a woman in a blue Secret Space Program jump suit.

“Bogle?” Rivkah let down her guard. “How did you know what I was thinking?” She remembered. They were connected somehow through that network, through that Lady of Atlantis statue seemingly guarding the pyramids of Atlantis Alta’s capital city, Flood of Dawn. “Fox didn’t want me dead?”

“Oh, he wants you dead, but apparently not today. On the other hand, the Kelhoon think he did a very fine job of ending your life. He not only saved your life with that attempt, he saved his own.” Bogle tapped her noggin’. “He’s a smart cat, no if’s, and’s, or but’s about it.”

Rivkah narrowed her eyes, moving a step to the side, farther away from Bogle. “You’re different.”

Bogle sat on a rock outcropping, resting her back against the cave wall. “I’ve changed, yes. I’m not that much different. Just a little less afraid. And I don’t care anymore, Rivkah. Not