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

with every step. She heard a Kelhoon’s rifle fire, and instinctively went into a somersault, her bad wrist pounding the ground. She came to her feet, and continued to run, wanting to scream, wanting to cry, wanting to stop everything and roll in pain on the ground, but being an easy target wasn’t an option.

She placed the knife’s blade into her mouth, clicked the hilt timer a few times, grabbed the hilt and threw the KHW to the side.

Ten more steps and she’d be on concrete, and ten more steps, she would be upon a white, round, six story building that looked vacant. All the lights were off, and the first-floor windows looked perfectly inviting.

Right now, it was her only route.

Krackow!

The concussion nearly toppled her over, but she was able to remain on her feet, moving her legs as fast as they could take her. She had no idea if she hit any Kelhoon. Maybe she killed them all.

Not a chance.

A second rifle shot, and a third, then a fourth blasted from several rushing Kelhoon warriors. Rivkah dropped to the ground again, keeping her eyes on the goal—the building—and rolled to her feet, again avoiding more rifle bolts.

Her feet now off of the grass and pounding on the hard concrete, she activated her Chi and took a flying leap. The wind rushed against her body as she flew through the air. She rolled into a ball and broke through the window. The sound of shattering glass surrounded her and the collision knocked the wind out of her.

She landed hard, tumbling to the floor, and sliding across broken shards of glass.

She pushed herself up, fighting against her body’s attempts to keep her on the ground to grab a breath of fresh air. She didn’t have time to appease her body’s wishes. The grunts of Kelhoon lizard-heads were coming closer.

The glass stuck into her hands and knees, slicing them open, as she made it to a standing position. She spotted steps that went up to the next floor. An ion blast tagged the wall across from her. She ran to the first landing, and went up another set of stairs.

More gunfire and she paused. Should she go through a door or keep heading up? They might expect her to keep climbing. She raced to the door to her right and burst through it. Kicking it closed, she ran down the hallway, lit by the dim glow of lights outside.

Doors lined the corridor like a hotel. Halfway down the hall, she halted in front of a door numbered twenty-nine. She gripped the door knob, and twisted.

It was unlocked.

She swung it open, swiping her sweat-covered bangs away from her face, and entered the room. She closed it softly, fighting the urge to fall to the floor and rest her racing heart, to slow her quick breathing. She was bloodied and bleeding.

And, again, she should be dead. True to form, the voice in her head painted the worst scenario.

“Screw you, Dad.” She was no failure. A survivor, yes. A strong, brave woman, capable of fending for herself, yes. Few people endured what she had in life, and fewer lived to tell about it.

She walked into a living room, which was bathed in low light, but she could see the outlines of furniture—a coffee table, shelves, two couches, and a recliner. It was all built for a human, in shape and in size.

Behind the living room was an open kitchen. Between the kitchen and living room was a hallway that most likely led to a bathroom and bedrooms.

She was inside a fully furnished fancy hotel room, or an apartment. Why was it furnished? Was someone living here?

She closed her eyes, energetically scanning the room.

She shook her head, and let out a breath. No energy signatures.

No one was here.

What was Slade trying to do? Bring an entire city of people here? Humans? Would they be workers? Was this where the politicians were supposed to live?

Hell, if Slade was already here, then were the politicians on Starship Atlantis here as well?

So many questions and no time to find the answers to them. At least, not yet.

She made her way to the large living room window, and looked out. A building was across from her, and a large road lined with street lamps was below, separating the buildings. She leaned forward, getting a better view of what was all around her.

A few blocks down were an intersection, and crosswalks, with signals? It was just like Chicago, or New York, or any other big city.

A Kelhoon assault hover-vehicle flew through the intersection with a handful of Kelhoon soldiers clinging to the side of the vehicle, weapons in hand.

They were most likely looking for her.

She backed away, and turned. Commotion came from down the hall. She hurried over to the door and locked it. She walked back into the living room and sat on the couch, both hands now throbbing.

She glanced at her good hand. It was covered in blood from two large glass splinters stuck in her skin. That meant the doorknob had blood on it as well, and probably a trail of her blood led right to this room. Shit. She’d led them right to her.

She unstrapped Abdu’s bamboo rifle, and kissed it. “If I haven’t thanked you enough, here is another thank you, Abdu.” She pointed the rifle at the door, using her knee to balance the remainder of the bamboo-looking muzzle. Her hand shook, and she closed one eye, making sure her aim was true.

25

E-Quadrant, Solar System - Whitefish, Montana

“Get up, Drew. Follow her.” It was Drew’s mother. Again, she was talking to him, speaking from the other side of death and across the veil. And it wasn’t too long ago he took a few hits of ganja. Was there a correlation?

Probably not.

Mya stood at the base of the ramp. Drew tried to move. The straps kept him planted. He wiggled, then bit his lip, his eyes welling up. An ache tore through his shoulder