Ascendant Saga Collection: Sci-Fi Fantasy Techno Thriller by Brandon Ellis (easy to read books for adults list txt) 📕

he was too valuable to lock up and throw away the key—and fear that he was exactly that, disposable.

“Good, you’re awake.” Slade’s voice echoed in the room.

Jaxx stared at himself in the mirror. “Are you on the other side of that mirror?”

“Why did you steal the glossies?”

Jaxx’s muscles went rigid. I’m an idiot, rose to mind.

“Stealing government property is a federal offense. Do you know how many years I could put you away for this?”

“They were just pic—”

“Pictures of classified information. What you were attempting to do was treason. If this gets out, our entire operation is compromised.”

Jaxx’s stomach sank. “What do you want from me?”

Silence.

“Hello?” said Jaxx. “When can I get back to work?”

The key turned in the lock, the bolts were drawn back, the door groaned on its hinges and Slade walked in. He stood, hands on his hips, anger in his eyes. “I’m not here to play games with you, Jaxx. I’m here to glean as much information from you as I can. We’ve picked you because you can help us. I can’t afford taking you off the team, but if I have to throw you in prison, I will. And for a long, long time. I’d pile on felony after felony and put you in there for enough time to drive you bat shit crazy so you wouldn’t be able to spill any classified information to the public. And even if you tried to, once you got out,” Slade leaned in close, his minty-fresh chewing gum breath right in Jaxx’s face. “If you ever got out. People would know you were bat shit crazy because you’d be cross-eyed, bald from pulling your hair out, and not able to walk straight. So, from this point forward, Captain Richard Fox will have both eyes on you to make sure you stay in line. Do you understand?”

Jaxx nodded.

“Do you understand.”

Jaxx squared his shoulders. “Yes.”

“Good.” Slade motioned to the doorway and Jaxx got up to leave. Slade put his hand up. “You’re staying here.”

Donny came in with a chair and placed it next to the bed.

“Lay on your bed, Jaxx,” said Slade. “You surprised us yesterday. You should have told us you had been in the Secret Space Program, sooner. You are more valuable than we initially thought.”

Jaxx’s chest tightened. “I don’t know anything about the Secret Space Program.”

“That’s what Captain Fox reported. You didn’t recognize him, you didn’t know jackshit about the program. Nonetheless, we need to know more about what you don’t know. Lay on the bed, Jaxx.”

Donny sat in his chair, clipboard in hand and a pen across the top of his ear. He held his hand toward the bed, as if that somehow made it welcoming, rather than intimidating. “We won’t harm you, Kaden. Trust me. I want what’s best for you. Any hidden memories that surface will only serve to lighten your load and enhance your mood. Things will become easier and you’ll be more aware of the world around you.”

Jaxx fidgeted with his hands. He didn’t want to go through this again. “You planted those memories in my head.”

Slade took a few steps toward Jaxx. “Are you shitting me?” He grabbed Jaxx under the armpits and carried him over to the bed. “I can throw you in prison whenever I want. So, I would suggest complying with us would be your number one option.” He let go and Jaxx fell onto the bed, the coils squeaking and bouncing.

Jaxx looked at his hands. Once again, they were gloved and gripping a control stick.

“Starfighter 117, this is Mission Control, you’re set for takeoff. Release from the launch tube now.”

The war. The oncoming battle. He was back, on some demented launch loop. It was Groundhog Day, with a twist.

He could see a gray planet in the distance and explosions highlighting the cosmos in front of him, just as he had the day before. He didn’t want to go to war, but he had no other options. Once again, Donny Dearest had dropped him into some whackadoo simulation at the point of no return. In a spacefighter, with weapons at his command. He was strapped in and ready for a fight.

Jaxx pressed on the accelerator and blasted out of the tube, pressing the control stick forward just as he exited. He headed straight down, evading massive cannon fire from an enemy starship.

He wanted to thank the woman who gave him the advice and instantly knew her name; Captain Rivkah Ravenwood. They had exchanged pleasantries a day ago, though she hadn’t been particularly pleasant. They made small talk and she let him know, more than once, that “no one in the galaxy is as good a starfighter as me.”

He could hear her voice in his head. Bold. Distinct. Southern.

Why did she help him?

Explosions and Plasma Cannons, aka PC’s, strafed the starlit darkness before him. It was one hell of a way to get a man to concentrate on the matter at hand. Jaxx honed and focused. More than that, he dodged the mess and confusion, as if he’d been flying his entire life.

On his starboard, a ship shaped like a massive egg slid into view. Jaxx eased back on his stick, rounded to face the behemoth and squeezed the trigger, expelling plasma bursts from PC’s on his starfighter’s wings. He hammered the craft. The shell ignited, then split, just as if he’d cracked an egg on the side of his cast-iron skillet.

Humans spilled out of the egg-ship, like runny yolk. They died before they knew what hit them.

Mission Control boomed through Jaxx’s comm. “Starfighter 117, cease fire. You killed a friendly. I repeat, you killed a friendly. Only fire on weapon’s lock. That’s the enemy.”

He should have felt something—guilt or shame or heartache—for allegedly killing off his own people, but everything was too chaotic, as if he had been thrown in combat with almost no training—which he had.

A craft fired a barrage of plasma blasts, barely missing him as it flew on by.

Jaxx arced away, doing his