Destination Atlantis (Ascendant Chronicles Book 2) Read online

It just wasn’t the same.

  She dropped the IPR and pulled off Fox’s badge and flipped it over. There was an ID chip on the other side. It might come in handy. He reached for it and she quickly shoved his arm to the side, shocked that he was still awake. She smashed a blow against his chin with her free hand.

  He kicked her off and she tumbled, but righted herself and landed on her feet. He sprang to a defensive standing position and threw a wide, arcing punch, connecting and splitting her lip open. He immediately spun into a roundhouse kick and she jumped out of the way, the rush of the shoe slicing through the air, barely missing her.

  He has a little kick in him after all.

  Her heart pumped and skipped a beat, the strange power that Jaxx had given her coursed through her veins again. She screamed unintentionally, her muscles convulsing all at one, spasming out of her control. The lights above sparked and shattered, glass falling on top of her, electrical fire spitting around her.

  Fox covered his face and fell to the floor. He rolled to the side, bumping into one of his own downed men.

  Rivkah’s vision changed, seeing through Jaxx’s eyes. He was hacking through a corridor three stories up, bent on a mission of his own. The chord he’d created between the two of them had doubled and tripled in size. He was calling on the energy of the stars to rage through him and feed her need. He was with her, in this fight. She felt a sharp pull, a magnetic draw to him. She had to find him. In order to do so, she had to end this with Fox, and right now.

  Her vision changed back to her present location.

  Fox was standing, breathing heavily, his chin down, his eyes up.

  He wanted her out of his life, she could tell. She didn’t need to be psychic for that and he didn’t need to be psychic to know that Rivkah felt the same about him. They both meant business.

  He lowered his hands and glanced at his help. They were all down for the count. He grimaced. “Now, Rivkah. Calm down. We’re not going to hurt you. You’re on a starship and – ”

  She shot forward and jabbed him in the face, glancing his nose. “The hell you weren’t going to hurt me. You just tried to shoot me, asshole.”

  He wiped his nose with his thumb, rubbing the blood off on his shirt. “You know what? I’ve about had it with you.” He unsheathed a knife from his belt and held it out in front of him.

  “That’s going to backfire, Fox. I suggest you turn around and walk the other way.” She lowered her eyes, ready for the kill.

  He lunged forward, thrusting with his knife.

  Rivkah kicked low and away, avoiding the thrust, hitting him in the stomach and knocking the wind out of him. He dropped the knife and landed hard on the floor, gasping for breath.

  She heard heavy boots coming down the hallway. More soldiers were coming. She went for one of the IPR’s and snagged it into her hands. She backed up and ran around a corner, running as hard as she could until she eyed a door.

  The footsteps got louder. Men shouted orders. They’d come upon Fox and his men. He’d point in the direction she went.

  She waved Fox’s badge over a control panel next to the door. It opened, and she ducked inside. The door shut.

  She heard the elevator doors hiss open. A man pounded down the corridor, towards Fox and his decimated crew. She closed her eyes and let her mind race after the newcomer. She knew his energy signature. He was a brute of a man: ambitious, bloody, not to be crossed. He was Colonel Slade Roberson.

  Fox paced the floor, hand on his shoulder radio communicator, barking orders. He let his finger off the device, curling his lip. “I’m done with her, Slade. No more experiments. I’m going to slit her throat if it’s the last thing I do.”

  Slade crossed his arms. “You’re done with her? I asked you to keep her in her God damn room. Under your watch she has escaped every fucking time.”

  Fox flinched. “You can’t keep a wild animal caged, Slade. You need to put them down.” He touched his forehead. “One between the eyes.”

  Slade leaned in, eye to eye with Fox. He spoke slowly. “Listen to me and listen clearly. You lose her again, you lose your job. Understand?”

  Fox looked away, biting his lip. He treated people this way, not the other way around. “Aye, Colonel.”

  Slade came closer, lips next to Fox’s ears. “And, Fox. Shoot to kill. But, most importantly, keep her brain intact.”

  Fox gave him an odd look, nodding.

  Slade pulled away. “We can at least experiment on Rivkah’s pineal gland and whatever else Doctor Donny had on his clipboard before he died.”

  Commotion came from down the hall and Fox pressed on his comm device. “What do we have?”

  “Sir, we are scouring the halls. We don’t have anything.”

  He rubbed his chin, wanting to bat Slade away with a club. He didn’t like gnats telling him what to do, even if it’s a big gnat with a Colonel rank. He pressed the comm device. “We have a new order. Shoot to kill, but aim for the chest. We leave her brain in one piece.”

  His men fell into formation and fanned out across the floor.

  Rivkah slid into a cooling duct and disappeared from view. They might want her glands or whatever, but they were going to have to catch her first. And no one catches a ghost.

  7

  Charlotte, North Carolina

  Earth

  Jaxx’s nephew, and world-class journalist, Drew Avera watched the news, his unused bong in his hand. He’d been ready to take his first toke for several hours, but somehow never made it to that first, blissful hit. His bong just didn’t sing to him like it had before he’d been to Portland, Oregon; before he’d witnessed his mom’s murder.

  The world was split in two: there was “before” and there was “after.”

  And “after” sucked ass.

  It had been several days since the funeral. A funeral only a few Tanner Spring Assisted Living Facility employees cared to attend. Drew was the only family member there. No surprises there. His mother had cut herself off from her friends and whatever family they had left when she pulled her whole, “I am demented and don’t know my own ass from my elbow” routine.

  Drew tried to pin the murder on the actual murderers – the G-men who’d been hovering around his mom since the whole “government evacuating to Callisto” debacle had kicked off – but without a working government, and the country in panic-mode and soon-to-be-holy-shit-chaos, he knew nothing would come of it. He’d have to wallow in his anger, exact justice on his own. He’d cracked the so-called “evacuation” story and he knew damned well he could crack the mystery surrounding his mother’s murder.

  Who wanted her dead was simple: his no-good, shit-for brains father: Colonel Slade Roberson. But why? The woman had spent the better part of 30 years faking her own dementia, to stay off Slade’s radar. She’d only stepped up to help Drew out of a jam. He hung his head. No matter how he spun it, her death was on his hands. He reached for his lighter, packed the Mellow Kiss-kush into the bowl and settled in for a bong night.

  He leaned back against his sofa, papers strewn on the floor and coffee table. He wasn’t relaxed though, half-watching a replay of a rocket carrying the last of the government personnel off Earth soil and to the stars.

  Why is the military just standing idly by? Shoot those bastards out of the sky.

  In truth, what could you do? What could the military do? Could NASA stop them? Maybe NASA was part of the entire United States government evacuation in the first place?

  He took another hit. He needed to get his brain to stop spinning and his nerves firing in all directions.

  World News Networks’ Connor Eves, was on the tube. His white teeth shone, though his eyelids were crinkled in worry and swollen with little sleep. “That was rocket two-hundred and twenty-two on our count. It left Earth’s atmosphere four days ago, being the last in our ongoing story of Event Hightail.” He looked down and squeezed the ridge of his nose. “In the words of so many famous journalists and reporters, may God help us now.”

/>   It went to commercial.

  That was a little dramatic, thought Drew. Why aren’t I being more dramatic?

  He took a long, leisurely bong hit, easing up the ball of anger growing in his heart.

  He was perspiring, not from the shock of the day, of the week, or a month of nearly being killed on several occasions, or watching the news, or his mother dying. It was another record heat day.

  Maybe there is something to this global warming thing.

  Yes, it was getting hotter. No, it couldn’t only be because of humans’ atrocities with the environment and fossil fuel addiction. Or, could it? It’s not as if the United States government stuck around to find out. They left. No warning. No public announcement other than letters. And no help for the rest left behind.

  Nothing new. Government as usual.

  “Drew?” Laura, Drew’s mom, walked in from the kitchen, arms folded across her chest, lips pursed. He’d been having these hallucinations since she died. He didn’t know if it was because of the lack of weed he’d been sucking into his lungs or if it was because his brain, his mind, his body was trying to cope with her death.

  “Care to put that bong down?” She stepped over a pile of clothes and grabbed a hold of the bong, setting it down on the only bare spot on the coffee table. “It’s time to go.”

  He stared at her, open eyed, mouth agape.

  He decided to talk to her this time, though he knew this was a figment of his own imagination. Maybe his brain would answer for her, would give him the explanation he needed. “You think you could have told me? Maybe gave me a warning? A hint that you didn’t have Alzheimer's this entire time? I could have gotten to know you.”

  Laura put her hands on her hips. “We can talk about this on our way.”

  On our way? Way to where? His mind wasn’t cooperating. Drew sat up, his nostrils flaring. “No, we talk about this now.”

  Her tone softened. “Who knows what would have happened to you or to me had Slade known I didn’t have Alzheimer’s?”

  She would be dead long ago, like she was now.

  She bent over and tossed a shirt on Drew’s lap, tapping her foot. She held her chin high. “Get packing. We have a long road ahead.”

  “A long road where?”

  She stiffened. “I know you’re a genius and all, but what about not having a government hasn’t gotten into that genius brain of yours? Who is going to step into the power vacuum? And, by God, who is going to restore food flow, electricity, and water if that goes offline? There are a million scenarios in play here, Drew. We need to act swiftly. You’re the one who’s going to make it safe for humanity.”

  She vanished before Drew could respond. He laughed so hard he blew snot out of one nostril. It was just like mom to say he was going to save the world.

  “Not the world, Drew. The world can take care of herself. You need to worry about humanity. We’re teetering on the brink of self-annihilation. You’re the only one who can stop what’s coming.”

  He took hit and looked back at the TV.

  WNN news started again, Connor looking deep into the camera lens. “As the Stock Market plummeted yet again today, we have more sobering news. Reports are coming from our agents in China claiming that China has amassed a large fleet and are sailing out of Zhanjiang. Chinese President Biming Chen was there to witness the event, calling this “an historical event.” The North Korean leader, Kim Kye Kwan, was by his side. Chinese President Biming Chen never made clear which historical event he was speaking about.” He cleared his throat. “As of now, we don’t have any reports as to where the fleet will be going or why. All we know is that this is the largest fleet to ever leave the Zhanjiang Naval Base. Our attempts to contact China, Russia, and Britain for any information in regards to the fleet have been met with silence.”

  “They aren’t wasting any time. We are free game,” Drew said. His mom didn’t reappear, but he knew he was supposed to go somewhere; do something. Reluctantly, he put down his bong and got dressed. “Don’t say I never listen to you, mom. I’m listening all the time.” He slipped his sneakers on. “Now, where to?”

  8

  J-Quadrant, Solar System

  Callisto

  Bogle awoke on a hard floor. The smell of roses wafting in the air. The Being loomed. He wore a long piece of white fabric like the ancient Greeks wore, held in place by hefty pin at the shoulder and a futurist belt full of colorful buttons around its waist. He held a rose in his hand, repeatedly extending it to her.

  She shook her head, slapping the rose out of his hand. It was a trap, a trick, a way to get her to let down her guard. It was the Devil’s own work, tempting her with simple beauty. She didn’t want the thorns of death anywhere near her.

  He reached into his tunic, pulling out a purple hexagonal crystal about the size of a quarter. He crouched, touched his chest with the crystal, then pointed at her.

  Her stomach clenched. What did he want? Was he going to incinerate her with a flipping crystal?

  He touched his helmet. The air hissed out as if a seal was coming unlocked. Using both hands, he pulled off his helmet. He was definitely a man. He had sandy-blond hair and gleaming blue eyes, a short mustache and beard. He was healthy. Beyond healthy. His skin glowed and he moved fluidly, as if no pain had ever entered his joints and muscles.

  He held out the crystal with one hand, pointing to her chest with the other. He spoke, his tone strong, “Locus de pectore.”

  “What? I don’t understand.”

  The soft beeps of the ship’s small bridge filled the air. Computer-like holographic displays were set back into what appeared to be a large cockpit. The cockpit window was just above the displays, and the remnants of Star Warden floated off in the distance in front of Jupiter. The planet’s tan-glow lit the dark void all around.

  Her stomach jumped to her throat and she vomited again, remembering the dying, spinning men and women sucked out of the Star Carrier. Everyone was dead. They had to be. She still didn’t know her status – dead or alive? Hell or some weird-ass afterlife that she wanted no part of?

  She glanced back at the man. Was he truly a demon here to take her to hell’s bottomless fire pit? Was God testing her one last time? She needed to be strong; to keep the faith.

  The Being narrowed his eyes, bringing his brows down in concentration. “Locus de pectore.”

  She shook her head again, wiping the vomit from her lips. “I don’t – ”

  He leaned forward, quickly placing the crystal on her chest, right up against her sternum. A sharp sting pricked at her. She yelped, then relaxed as a calm vibration moved up her neck and into her brain.

  “I wanted you to place the crystallo fabrica on your chest,” he said. “But as we have little time, I took the forward step and placed it for you. You will forgive the intrusion.”

  She scooted backwards on her butt, surprised she understood him. At a safe distance, she stopped. “Wha…who…?”

  He smiled and touched his heart, pulling down his cloth to reveal his bare chest. The same type of crystal was attached to him. “A crystallo fabrica energetically connects into your heart and to the superior temporal gyrus of your brain – your communication area. There it rewires your synapses, allowing my communication to become your communication, and vice versa. As you can see, my voice is my voice, but my lips aren’t moving in sync with the words you hear.”

  She touched her chest, pressing on the crystal. It gave her energy, vital life. She was just as afraid of keeping it on as she was of taking it off. No longer did she think he was a demon. She was immersed in peace, in calm. Maybe that’s what demons do, how they draw you in and take your soul – with trust.

  She scrunched up her face and pulled away. “Where am I?”

  “You’re on my craft, Telu Ignis. I was able to save your life. Any later and you would not have lived.” He spoke matter of factually, though with a tone of compassion.

  “Who are you?” Bogle questioned.

  He pounded h
is chest, one warrior to another. He stood straight, proud. “In my language, I am Stellam Matu, in service to the Law of One and to all Beings across the Galaxy. In your language, I am Morning Star.”

  She touched her chest, her palm against the crystal. “I’m – ”

  “I know who you are, Captain Katherine Bogle. Welcome to Atlantis Alta. I’ll be taking you to my home city, Aurora Diluv. Or in your words, Flood of Dawn. We have been waiting a long time for you. You will guide Kaden Jaxx and the others home.”

  9

  M-Quadrant, Solar System

  Starship Atlantis

  “Admiral Quarters is past the grand deck lobby and the President’s suite.” Shaughnessy tipped his head to the side. “Follow me.”

  Jaxx’s steel-tipped shoes echoed off the walls of the lobby’s alabaster marble. He slipped his shoes off and padded after Shaugnessy, hoping his sweaty footprints would evaporate as soon as they’d cleared the grand deck. Wouldn’t do to leave a trail. They snaked through swanky hallways and past Doric columns which held up plaster friezes of the ancient gods. Zeus reclined, in his usual way, on an insubstantial cloud; Poseidon stormed the churning waves with his trident at the ready; and Aphrodite graced their path with rose petals, limes, pomegranates, and sea shells. Someone had spent a lot of damned money making sure the corridors leading to the Presidential Suite looked suitably presidential.

  “We’re here.” Shaughnessy was sweating and more pasty than usual. Jaxx could practically see Shaughnessy’s heart beating through his shirt.

  “How are you going to get us in?” asked Jaxx, leaning his forearm against the wall.

  Shaughnessy put his finger up. “Shh…” He punched in a code. “I hacked his code the first hour on the ship.” He grinned, sweat dripping off his cheek. “I hacked the President’s, too.”

  The door opened, sliding vertically upward. Stepping inside, the door closed. “Why would you do that?” inquired Jaxx.