OVERMIND (Fallen Drakon Empire Book 1)
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OVERMIND
Fallen Drakon Empire
By Diana Drakulich
If they tell you that I have died -
Don’t believe them.
From Immortal Song by Mika Antich
Text copyright © 2017 Diana Drakulich. All rights reserved.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, events, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.
No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means – electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise – without express written permission of the author.
Editor – Dennis Chekalov
denc@aaanet.ru
Cover Design – NA Studio Design
abgwriter@gmail.com
Interior Formatting – Kody Boye
boyekody@gmail.com
Table of Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Read on for preview chapters of OVERLORD
Chapter 1
Footsteps echoing off the massively thick concrete floors and walls, Sorsha DeTaurica hurried down the maze of subterranean halls, her long legs moving in lithe strides. A recent hire at the secret Nevada research facility known cryptically as `The Center’, Sorsha had been called in as a last minute substitute for another medtech.
The Center was a DUMB, a Deep Underground Military Base. It was also a top secret research facility with a ‘Deep Black’ Budget. Even the US Congress was not kept informed on The Center’s secret programs. They were ranked too vital to US security.
It’s a high stress job but somebody’s gotta do it. Not to mention the lucrative salary will pay off my college debt in a few years. Sorsha quickened her pace. To arrive late, even though not her fault, would be starting off on the wrong foot with the renowned scientist, Dr. Reginald Carter.
Fluorescent lights shadowed the gray walls and floor. Overhead cameras watched by invisible guards tracked her every move, but it was late and the halls were empty.
This place is an underground fortress. She shivered. It’s cold down here. What goes on behind all these doors? Someone could die in one of those rooms and no one would ever know. Or care.
It was rumored strange things went on at this top secret level of The Center, seven stories deep underground…genetic experiments, mind kontrol... cryogenic research.
Counting down the room numbers, she stopped before a steel door painted a color she called `government green’, since so many government facilities seemed to use the same drab olive green. Room #731 Authorized Personnel Only - This is it. Spoken under her breath.
Standing there, an eerie, nameless anxiety flooded her, expanding the moment. An unknown entity lay waiting behind this green door. Her co-worker, Jillian had mentioned that something `very strange’ was going on in Room 731.
Somehow she knew - It’s not going to go well with Dr. Carter. My job is on the line here. Breathe. She told herself, trying to overcome a deep sense of foreboding.
So be it. She would do her best. Heart pounding, Sorsha pressed her chip-embedded palm to the sensor panel. A green light blinked. The heavy metal door whooshed open.
She stepped inside, then halted in her tracks, staring. The lab was empty but for an unconscious man strapped to a steel exam table. The reek of chemicals and alcohol was overpowering.
Her eyes soaked in the patient’s tall, extraordinarily large bone structure. Thin, almost to the point of gauntness, the man was athletically built with broad shoulders, narrow hips and long legs. Thick black hair hung lank across his wide forehead and strong brow.
A sheet drawn up to his navel revealed a muscled abdomen and chest. His skin was a stunning golden color. It shone with a hue that was almost metallic, like a serpent’s scales. Her eyes swept over the unique angles of his face, the high cheekbones, the long jawline.
Something struck her as entirely unique about him. At first glance she thought - Is he - Human?
Clearly the patient was dehydrated and in severely depleted condition. Is this man some kind of test subject? Her heart clenched. I hope not. Stepping closer on hesitant feet she stared down at him.
The subject’s breath came and went in long shuddering gasps. There was such a prolonged suspended gap between each breath that she tensed, fearing he would not take another.
She carefully lifted his large, long-fingered hand to take his pulse. As her hand touched his a tingling spark shot up her arm, thrilling through her entire system. Wow.
The patient’s pulse was weak, slow and irregular. His temperature was only 95.8 degrees. Much lower and he would be going into hypothermia. His torso was scarred with long scalpel marks, some oozing and fresh with stitches. He’s drugged, Haloperidol or some other opiate.
It dawned on her with the clarity of a light bulb why Dr. Carter’s usual assistant had called in sick. Jillian couldn’t stomach what’s going on here. They are slowly killing him.
Her eyes assessed his injuries. Some of them appeared to be older lacerations that had been stitched up. From a violent accident perhaps? Others appeared to be fresh incisions. No gunshot wounds.
What they are doing to him? Is he terminally ill? A mental patient who has to be strapped down? Maybe he has some hideous communicable disease that causes him to become violent…?
The golden-skinned patient released a hoarse sighing groan, eerily like a serpent’s hiss. Sorsha sensed an awakening, a growing awareness in him, as if he could feel her presence. Even hear her secret thoughts.
Speechless, her eyes scanned the unconscious subject’s pronounced brow ridge slashed by black brows. The narrow, high-bridged nose. And those sculpted lips...Just made for kissing. What a shame to waste that beautiful gene pool…
Mentally she slapped herself - Stop lusting over the poor man!
The patient’s muscles tensed as if engaged in an inner struggle. As if willing himself to overcome the drugs and injuries to emerge from a deep state of unconsciousness. His lips moved. She heard him murmur something in an unknown language.
The patient’s eyes flickered open.
Chapter 2
Golden amber eyes suddenly stared straight into Sorsha’s. But it was far more than that a meeting of the eyes. It was Mind meeting Mind with no filters. No mask. Only complete awareness. She found herself caught, drowning in his mesmerizing gaze.
How did he do that? In his drugged state such acute alertness should not be possible.
Sava’s bleary vision focused. Bending over him was a strange woman with b
lue-green eyes the color of a mountain lake. He saw a compassionate light in her eyes. Felt her deep concern for his utterly vulnerable, immobilized and weakened state. He fought to pull himself together. Focus. Here is your chance.
Piercing golden eyes raked by formidable black brows held Sorsha in their gaze. She had the eerie sensation that his penetrating gaze was going deep within, assessing her character. Perceiving her strengths, her weaknesses.
The patient’s pupils were extremely dilated, another indication he was fighting through a drugged state. She was struck by the suffering in those eyes. Eyes that seemed to glisten with an ocean of secrets. Those eyes reminded her of the huge, glassy black eyes of a dying deer she had seen as a child.
Sorsha’s family home was tucked in the foothills of the Jackson Mountains northwest of Winnemucca, Nevada. When she was ten years old her parents had gifted her with a pony she named Ranger. Her parents allowed Sorsha great freedom and she reveled in it.
Sorsha rode that bold pony everywhere, sometimes with friends, other times alone. On horseback she shifted from being a child into a powerful fleet animal with wings for feet.
One day the child Sorsha was riding through a thicket of scattered pines. A dark shadow flitted over, crossing the trail. She glanced up to see great black-winged birds soaring, circling high in the air. Slowly, irrevocably descending. Vultures.
Some animal was dead or dying. Curious, she trotted Ranger through the pines, heading toward the spot over which the vultures circled.
The woods opened to a small sunny glen. It was fall and the sparse grass was greenish brown. In the center of the glen stood a great gnarled oak, most of its leaves already fallen, leaving the branches bare. Ranger snorted, then shied violently, almost unseating her.
A large brownish-gray body lay at the foot of the tree. A buck with a magnificent 14 point antler rack lay gasping, a bloody hole in its shoulder. Shot by hunters, the deer had run as far and as fast as it could before it finally dropped.
Taking a firm grip on the reins, Sorsha tightened her legs, encouraging the pony to move closer. Ranger balked and shook his head, then stepped forward hesitantly. The deer lifted its head slightly and saw her. A shiver ran through its brownish gray body.
She sensed the big buck was fighting with its last dying breath to leap up, to run away with all its former magnificent speed and strength. But that was all gone now. Now the buck could only gaze at her with huge suffering black eyes. Eyes that reflected a vast starry blackness. Eyes that were rapidly glazing over, their lights going out.
From somewhere not far away and coming closer a dog bayed. The pony shook his head, making the bit rattle. He stomped impatiently. Ranger wanted away. Away from this place of blood and death.
Soon the victorious hunter would arrive. But who knew what kind of killer he might be? Sorsha heard a rustle, felt a breath of wind and glanced up. One of the vultures had settled on a branch overhead. Another of the ominous black birds coasted down and down to settle on the ground a few feet away. Waiting.
In her child’s mind, unable to comprehend Death, she had come to see it. Now she was looking at it. Her vision clarified, becoming crystal clear. All the vivid colors of earth and sky, the fallen leaves, the haunting eyes of the buck began flashing in her eyes like neon signs - warning of danger.
She turned Ranger around and just let the pony go. The pony needed no urging. Like a breath of wind blowing free, he launched into a gallop, taking them far away from that place.
Sometimes Sorsha wished she had never gone there. To see Death. She tried to erase the horrific sight, from her mind’s eye. But the agonized eyes of that dying deer were imprinted on her mind forever.
The memory of the dying buck passed through her mind’s eye in an instant. In this stranger’s compelling dark eyes she saw the same mortal pain. The same wild innocent primal nature. A freeze frame of all the suffering, dying beings in the world.
Then a rasping, accented Voice invaded her shocked mind - Who are You?
Without hesitation she mind-spoke in response: I am Sorsha. I have come for you at last.
What am I saying?! She mentally rebuked herself. That is - just - crazy. I have never seen this man in my life. No way did he speak to me telepathically.
A shuddering groan convulsed the patient’s body. The piercing eyes fluttered closed. Drawing on his last vestige of strength, the golden eyes opened again, focusing on her. Riveting her to the spot.
You are my only hope - Sorsha. That Voice in her head said.
I must be hallucinating! She thought.
But the patient’s suffering was real. It tore at her heart. Sorsha was a believer in fate. Some force had brought her to this strange being at the last moment, before his body shut down irrevocably.
Sorsha found herself ensnared. Falling into those dark, glimmering beseeching eyes. She had been powerless to help the dying deer. But she could help Him.
Chapter 3
The experience of gazing into the test subject’s agonized eyes was transcendent. As if their positions were reversed and Sorsha was looking up at Him. At His face - suspended in starry, boundless space. This magnificent being was fading, his soul rising and she was there to witness his last moments.
I am Sava. I am Arkon. Who are YOU? That impossible Voice slid into her mind again.
Her eyes widened. An Arkon?
This time she responded aloud - “I am Sorsha.”
The stranger’s eyes shuttered in frustration. Somehow she had failed to answer his question. Then it came to her what he really meant. A name was not enough. He wanted to know - Her. The real Sorsha behind her social mask.
And something deep within responded. Like a wild rushing river she mentally poured her heart out. Her experiences, hopes and dreams, her pain and suffering. Her love for life and all living things.
Within moments all the understanding of her short lifetime flooded into those receptive golden eyes. And like a river flows into the sea, those extraordinary, compelling eyes absorbed the real Sorsha.
Water - I...thirst. That silent Voice rasped.
A clear running mountain brook flowed into her mind. He IS telepathic.
Sorsha strode to the sink, filled a paper cup with water. She tried to lift his head but even his neck was strapped down. Unbuckling the strap she gently lifted his head. Her face radiant with compassion, she smiled down into his tortured exhausted eyes, giving him patient sips of precious water.
Little did Sorsha know… when she bent over him, the alien released an invisible cloud of potent endorphins that went straight to her brain. Bonding endorphins that would create a sense of attachment, sympathy and submissiveness - to him. To his will.
Vampiric Arkons and benevolent Drakons were two sides to Sava’s personality
Chapter 4
Dr. Reginald Carter sat engrossed in his research. He had arrived at The Center at O800 that morning. He would not leave until midnight. There came a tentative knock at his office door.
“Come in.” Carter’s tone was surly. He hated having his concentration broken.
The medtech supervisor, Margie Crestwood sidled in. Cleared her throat.
“Yes?” Carter barely glanced up.
“Jillian called in sick. The new medtech, Sorsha DeTaurica will sub for her.”
The doctor’s head shot up, brown eyes boring in on Crestwood. She shifted uneasily.
In Carter’s eyes, Margie Crestwood might as well be wearing a Tshirt with Office Bitch printed across her push-up Victoria’s Secret breasts. Although Margie was nothing if not obsequious to Carter as she was to all her superiors, he had heard the office gossip - she was arrogant to those under her.
“DeTaurica is not experienced enough for the kind of procedures we use.” Code for - Her stomach is not strong enough. Cater glared at her, taking in the full measure of Margie’s calculating blue eyes, thinly disguised behind her glasses.
Is Margie trying manipulate me? Make me look bad? Something could go wrong.
She knows the test subject in #731 is Above Top Secret. A newbie has no business in there.
Carter’s glared at her. He was a man of order. Continuity in all things ensured success. He could not afford a screw up. Especially in this case.
“I’m sorry Dr. Carter. DeTaurica was the only medtech available on such short notice.” Margie nervously patted her nut brown hair in its French coif. Slid her manicured fingers down to the pencil skirt over generous hips.
Margie was well aware that Dr. Carter hated changes to his staff or his schedule. For a moment her mask dropped and he glimpsed the raw need for approval in her eyes - Talk to me. Forgive me. Just SAY something.
Carter knew that needy look. Had seen it before. But he also knew it was not really for him. In Margie’s eyes were shadowed the blind flagellation of a lost soul reaching out. Desperate for sensation. For real life. For that male - female dynamic. The lonely heart still flutters and beats. Still longs for love, even in the strictest environments, like The Center.
Carter had never had a real relationship with a woman. Never allowed it. Science, career, those were his true loves. It was too late now anyway. He was too old to jump through hoops and worry about courting some silly female.
“How long ago did Jillian call in sick?”
Margie’s full lower lip visibly quivered. “She called in about noon today.”
“She called ten hours ago and you waited until just now to tell me?!” He made no bones about letting Margie feel his righteous wrath.
“I’m sorry Dr. Carter, it’s been so busy today...”
“We’ll discuss this later.” His expression thunderous, Carter stalked out, headed directly for the elevator down to Room #731.
Margie had no idea what was really at stake here. No one but Carter and base commander General McVeigh knew the true nature of the test subject in Rm #731. He was an alien.
So far all the info Carter had been able to get out of the captive was that he was an Arkon from the `Middle Kingdom’ wherever the hell that was.