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

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 would 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