Ascendant Saga Collection: Sci-Fi Fantasy Techno Thriller by Brandon Ellis (best novels to read in english .txt) 📗

his photon rifle that was leaning against a wall. The mugs contents splattered over his chin and on his chest, dripping blood down its combat uniform.

Rivkah kicked the Kelhoon’s weapon across the floor, and slipped her rifle off of her shoulder. She went to one knee and released a purple blast.

The Kelhoon lurched forward, then bucked back from the impact. He bounced off the wall, his hands outstretched, and his eyes rolled back into his head. He slumped to the ground. Green blood oozed out of his chest, and he took a last breath, exhaling slowly. He toppled to his side, his eyes open and lifeless.

She ducked, hiding herself from any retaliatory gun fire that might come her way. When none came, she slowly rose in her crouch, peering over the edge of the lookout. It was nothing but stillness and quiet. Hopefully no one heard the commotion she’d just created.

“How the hell do I get down?”

She eyed a closed latch in the middle of the floor. She tried to open it. It was locked. She pulled again. It didn’t budge.

She began to run her Chi, then stopped when she saw a control panel on the wall. It had Kelhoon numbers she wasn’t schooled in, and if she was, the panel was probably a code box encoded with a password she didn’t know.

A light flashed across the hills and thunder rolled across the land. The tower quivered in response, and she went to her hands and knees. The battle over the hills was still raging.

She crawled to the control panel and tapped a few buttons. The digital buttons lit up, but nothing happened.

“Screw this shit,” she moaned. She didn’t know the passcodes. “I’ll pry the floor open.”

She folded her fingers around the latch’s edge, shifting her weight, and brought more Chi through her hands. The door moved an inch. Rivkah blew out an exasperated breath, her face red, her body sweating from too much exertion. She collapsed, catching her breath. “Is this latch made out of Chi-proof material?”

“Solka, jinshakaa hoji,” came a voice from where the dead Kelhoon lay.

Rivkah went into a defensive position; her leg extended, her elbow up, her other palm out and facing the Kelhoon. The Kelhoon didn’t move. He was still dead.

She realized it was the Kelhoon’s radio receiver and crawled to the Kelhoon, listening intently, wanting to locate the source of the voice.

“Solka, jinshakaa hoji,” said the voice again. Rivkah spotted a device behind the guy’s ear. It was his communication link. “Solka, jinshakaa hoji,” repeated the voice, this time clearly more irritated.

Rivkah hurried over to the latch and placed her fingers on its edge, and with all her might, she pried it open another few inches. After a few minutes of limited success, she let go and lay on her back, out of breath. “What is this, the galaxy’s greatest latch?”

Footsteps from outside echoed into the tower. She pushed herself up and cautiously peaked over the lip. Several Kelhoon were making their way toward her tower. She rushed to where she had entered, readying herself to climb back down.

It only took her two seconds to change her mind. She wasn’t in this rescue half way, or even eighty percent of the way. She was in this one hundred and ten percent, and counting. These children needed her help and they needed their parents, and she wasn’t going to let them die on her watch.

Wapooo!

A blast struck her wrist, spinning her and knocking her to the floor.

Wapooo! Wapooo!

Two more shots rang out, barreling into the side of the lookout tower. The tower shuddered, and rocks exploded outward, some pelting Rivkah.

She curled on the floor, her hand hot and damaged, blood slithering down her forearm and to the floor. She tried to move her hand and winced in agony, the pain enveloping her wrist like sharp fangs ripping apart every muscle in her body.

She held her damaged wrist with her other hand, holding it up to take a good look. “It’s done.” The wrist, and consequently, her hand was useless. Her skin was flapped back, her tendons sliced off the bone where they connected. And both bones in her forearm were closed breaks—cracked and separated.

From previous experience with broken bones in combat, she knew she had about six hours of adrenaline to keep her functional. Then what came afterwards was pure hell. She rested her hand on the ground, cringing, and unclipped a knife from her belt with her good hand.

She glanced at her pant leg, lowered the knife, cut and ripped the jumpsuit material at her shin. She grabbed and tugged a long piece of jumpsuit off. She sat up and a lightning-like throb ran up her bad arm, and her vision narrowed, her head going faint.

She slapped her face with her good hand to wake herself up, to keep herself from going unconscious. It worked…for the time being.

She scooted over to the bamboo rifle and leaned it up against a wall.

Kackow!

She pulled back in a start, covering her face. An explosive that must have been placed under the latch threw the latch wide open, breaking it off the hinges. She slid back, bumping her shoulder on the wall, jiggling her wrist.

She bit her lip and squeezed her eyes shut, doing her best not to cry out in pain.

Crap. This wasn’t good. The Kelhoon were either on their way up, or just about to the top of the ladder already. She only had a minute, at best.

She eyed the rifle, and kicked the lower half, causing a portion of the upper half to bend and break off, giving her about six inches of bamboo rifle barrel she could use.

She set her broken wrist and arm on the floor, placed the tip of the broken barrel on her palm, and let the remainder of the barrel rest on her wrist and halfway down her anterior forearm. Her arm burned but she held in the scream.

She grabbed the torn piece of jumpsuit and wrapped it around her