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

“Copy that, Colonel,” replied Central Ops. “We’re sending another squad.”

Slade rolled against the wall and took a few shots into the enemy’s position. His gun clicked, then clicked again. He unclipped his empty magazine, took a full one from his utility belt, and slammed it back into his semi-automatic.

He whispered into his comm, speaking to his troops. “We’ll take these guys if you rush their positions. We need three lead, the rest follow. I’ll cover you until you pass my position. This should be quick and easy. Go.”

His soldiers hurried down the corridor, opening fire.

Slade curled around the corner, pulling his semi-automatic’s trigger several times, riddling the wall with bullets.

Bwoom!

A blast went off. Concrete and metal splintered out in all directions and Slade was thrown backwards, flipping in the air, landing on his stomach. He let out a loud, “Oomph!” when he hit the hard floor.

Were they crazy? An explosive? Those were to be used on Callisto, not inside the ship. If it weren’t for the neutronium metal that made up the ship’s walls and exterior, this ship would be seriously compromised and he’d be sucked out into space in a nanosecond.

He pushed himself up, his ears ringing. He shook his head like a dog and glanced up. His troop were a mess of limbs, guts, and blood scattered throughout the hallway. He looked behind him, wondering if any of his troop had survived the explosion.

None had. Not even close. He was the only survivor. Then again, Slade always survived. It was his mantra.

He patted himself down, feeling shrapnel in his stomach, blood oozing from the wound. Why wasn’t he a pile of flesh like the rest of his soldiers? He didn’t have time to think on it. He had to get out of the blood-stained corridor and to the blocked off location a few corridors away.

“My team is lost.” he said into his comm while stumbling down another corridor.

He’d had 20 men in his command. Now there were zero. He needed reinforcements.

He turned off his comm and rushed toward a temporary armored wall—their makeshift road block. It went from floor to ceiling. It did the trick well.

He pulled out his badge and waived it to the wall as he ran. The wall opened, splitting down the middle and opening inward. More than thirty of his soldiers, weapons drawn, were on the other side.

Slade dashed past the wall. He halted and slumped to the floor, the gouge in his stomach burning. He cringed, attempting to pull the shrapnel out. It was too painful, too sharp. He had to do it anyway. He slid to the floor, closed his eyes, and gritted his teeth. He needed to yank it out, before he lost any more blood.

“Stop,” yelled Doctor Andrea Cross. She bent over him, her eyes full of concern. “You pull that out and you might bleed to death, especially if it dug into your inferior vena cava vein.” She gestured to a few troops.

They lifted him up and escorted him to a room nearby.

Andrea was already inside, a syringe in her hand. She flicked it a couple of times. “Put him on the table and leave.”

The soldiers complied.

She jabbed the syringe in his stomach and pressed on the syringe’s plunger, pushing clear liquid into his body. Slade couldn’t feel a thing, his body numb.

She tossed the syringe into a waste basket. She grabbed the shrapnel with forceps and pulled the piece of metal out of his skin.

“Agh!” He felt that. “Damn, doc.”

She placed a cloth over the wound to stop the bleeding, then gave Slade an odd look. “Wait a minute. What is this?” She pulled the cloth away.

Slade glanced down at his wound. It coagulated quickly, too quickly. It hardened and scabbed. “What the hell is going on?”

“Do you think it’s Jaxx’s blood?” She nodded, answering her own question. “It has to be.”

“You’re kidding me.” Slade grinned. “I’m invincible? I mean, you should have seen it. I was practically in the middle of a damn explosion and I came out almost unscathed.”

“Our next step is to figure out how to manipulate energy like Jaxx does.”

“Amid this mutiny?”

“Yes.”

“Shit.” He touched his hardened scab. A surge of energy entered his body. It felt good and powerful. “We start my training just as soon as I have these asswipes under control.”

32

Edge of M-Quadrant, Nearing Jupiter - Starship Atlantis

Ken Furr’s old, tired bones were sore and beat. His eyes war weary, sunken in, red from lack of sleep. He couldn’t give up, give in, or rest until he’d succeeded. As far as he was concerned, the fate of humanity was in his hands.

If he didn’t stop Slade and Martelle, they’d sell the whole damned planet out for their thirty pieces of silver. He needed to keep the ship on its new trajectory and stop those assholes from letting the Kelhoon enslave and chow down on human meat. Nothing he’d ever done before was as important as this mission. He could sleep when he was done or dead, but not before.

He gripped a hand grenade, grasped the pull ring with his middle finger and twisted. The grenade’s pin released.

His heart skipped a beat as he held his breath. He had no idea what he was doing, but he figured if he didn’t attempt this, life wasn’t going to be so good for the troops, governors, senators, and their families who had sided with him.

Right now, his troops were trapped, but valiantly returning fire with Slade’s soldiers on Deck 5. They were backed in a corner with no way out, ducking in and out of barracks and offices, doing their best to hold their ground. If they didn’t, death would knock on their doors, and quickly. It wasn’t looking good. Ken couldn’t lose this deck. If he did, all hopes of the mutiny were lost or would be damn near close. This deck had the food, the supplies,