by Sean Allen
Death Drop
The D-Evolution: Book One
Sean Allen
Published by Vintage Six Media
www.vintagesixmedia.com
Copyright 2011 Sean Allen
ISBN: 978-0-9832840-8-6
For a behind-the-scenes look at Death Drop and the D-Evolution Universe, go to www.devolutionnovels.com and explore character illustrations, bios, author information, news, and more.
Electronic Edition, License Notes
This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other individuals, groups, or organizations. If you would like to share this book with others, please purchase the appropriate number of additonal copies for each recipient. If you are reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, please return to www.devolutionnovels.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
This title is also available in print at www.devolutionnovels.com.
Acknowledgments
Before I launch into my thanks, for which much is owed, I would like to dedicate this book to you, dear reader. If you enjoy reading this adventure even a fraction as much as I have enjoyed writing it, then you and I will both be very satisfied.
My heartfelt thanks are owed to:
Marina: a life lived with you is the greatest adventure.
Mom and Kathy, who have always been there for me.
Pops for instilling in me a passion for life.
My broheim for his friendship and keeping me up-to-date on all that’s geek chic.
Cody and Scott for their invaluable feedback and critiques.
Amy Simso-Dean and Kendra Riemermann for their exceptional editing and writing advice.
Matt Dixon for his wonderful personality and masterful character illustrations.
Don Schaeffer for his brilliant graphic design talents and book cover savvy.
The cats; may they report to the gods that we are treating them well.
Table of Contents
Title Page
Acknowledgments
Prologue
Chapter 1: Ghost Ship
Chapter 2: Commitments
Chapter 3: Dark Stranger
Chapter 4: Hope and Despair
Chapter 5: Enemies
Chapter 6: Dark Revelation
Chapter 7: Malo’s Lament
Chapter 8: Tasks Owed
Chapter 9: Wretched Army
Chapter 10: Sad Occasion
Chapter 11: The Dark General
Chapter 12: A Plan of Attack
Chapter 13: Sounds of Doom
Chapter 14: Ascent
Chapter 15: God of War
Chapter 16: Friend or Foe
Chapter 17: Sacrifice
Chapter 18: Secrets
Chapter 19: Lonely
Chapter 20: Rilek and the Lodestar
Chapter 21: Half Truth
Chapter 22: The Great Gate
Chapter 23: Bizarre Bazaar
Chapter 24: Kings and Pawns
Chapter 25: Damnation
Chapter 26: Massacre
Chapter 27: Coup
Chapter 28: Seeing and Believing
Chapter 29: Death of a Soldier
Chapter 30: Clipped Wings
Chapter 31: Shattered Stone
Interlude
Chapter 32: Time to Run
Chapter 33: Doubt, No Doubt
Chapter 34: Strange Veil
Chapter 35: The Triton
Chapter 36: Eyes of the Betrayer
Chapter 37: Flight of The Firebug
Chapter 38: Revenant
Chapter 39: A Voice in the Dark
Chapter 40: Masquerades
Chapter 41: Puzzling
Chapter 42: The Train Man’s Ticket
Chapter 43: The Jeweled Calaboose
Chapter 44: The Deceiver
Chapter 45: Shift Change
Chapter 46: Monsters
Chapter 47: Exile
Epilogue
Prologue
The universe was dying. The Durax, a vile race of creatures, had come to rule by an ability they used with unrelenting malice—mind powers. Their wicked craft divided their species into horrid castes based on their mental potency and the self-inflicted mutilation that came with it. An individual Durax’s capacity for telepathy, mental torture, telekinesis, and mind control determined his place in The Order and his usefulness to its wretched overlord—King Helekoth. Because of their incomparable abilities, the Durax believed it was their destiny to reign over all life. With the help of their cruel gift, they swept through the stars, ravaging planets and enslaving entire species. But there were those who fought them.
The Mewlatai, a warrior race with a strict code of honor, had been battling the Durax for millennia. Armed with a unique immunity to Durax mind powers, deadly Kaiten swords, and unmatched martial skills, the Mewlatai slowed the heinous conquerors’ advance, inspiring many of the free people left in the universe to band together and fight for survival. The rabble-rousers called themselves the Dissension, in defiance of the Duraxian tyrants, and had fought alongside the ranks of the Mewlatai for 200 years.
To combat the physically superior Mewlatai enemy, the Durax eventually constructed giant killing machines to act as their murderous limbs. When these powerful contraptions were combined with Duraxian mind powers, they marked the dawn of a new era of butchery and terror. Countless millions upon millions of Dissenters, Mewlatai, and innocents were slain. A black feeling blossomed in the hearts of the Mewlatai like a poisonous flower—they blamed themselves for the spawn of the Durax devices and the savagery they left in their wake. Many Dissenters agreed, and their anger and accusations severed the bond between the Dissension Army and the greatest warriors that had ever lived.
Now—100 years since they had parted ways with the Mewlatai—the Dissension has been all but destroyed by the Durax. Dissension Army commanders have sent emissaries to the Mewlatai home world, hoping to negotiate a new alliance, but they have all been turned away. It would seem that hope is lost for the remaining Dissenters and unconquered worlds left in the universe…but a new weapon has emerged—the Serum. Its creator claims to be a Mewlatai who has been able to harness his race’s natural immunity to the Durax mind powers. The injection has been tested and it works.
With the help of the Serum, the Dissension has been able to deal the Durax their first losses in the war since the Mewlatai withdrew. The tide is slowly turning. Word of the new Dissension weapon is spreading, stoking the fires of courage in hearts across the universe and sending a surge of new recruits to join the fight. But peril lurks around every corner. The Durax’s sway has opened the floodgates of evil, and people everywhere are willing to take the most deplorable actions in the name of survival. The mysterious Serum maker won’t give his name and insists on transporting the Serum to the Dissension Army via the dangerous world of black market smuggling, both tactics that give Captain Talfus Zandre and his partner, Lieutenant Malo Schunkari, uneasy feelings in the pits of their stomachs.
Chapter 1: Ghost Ship
“Waiting like death.” The simple words barely escaped the dry lips on Malo Schunkari’s enormous face. On the galactic evolutionary scale, Moxen minds were under-developed, even primal, but their strength and endurance made them the perfect mining race. At over eight feet tall, Malo was a mountain of muscle and power. The twin horns crowning his massive head curled upward like ivory beacons urging his long-awaited delivery to descend from the heavens. His dark eyes anxiously scanned the horizon for the ship carrying the weapon that would help him save his race from torture and enslavement. The thick fur around his head and chi
n danced in the wind as the gathering storm clouds hurled bolts of jade fire across the darkening sky.
“Patience, my large friend, they’ll be here. The Mewlatai gave their word they would deliver the Serum, and they’d die on their own swords before they’d break their code.” Talfus Zandre was a Waadi soldier and had served in this war against the Durax for more moons than he cared to remember. The green flashes of lightning mixed with his blue skin and shrouded his body in a deathly yellow aura. At slightly more than six feet, his slender, athletic frame was made for slicing through the crystal waters of his home world. But here, on a desolate plateau, standing in the entrance to an abandoned mine shaft, his shiny scales and webbed digits looked grossly out of place.
They were an odd couple, to say the least. Under any other circumstances, Moxen and Waadi would never have known the other existed, and they scarcely would have cared if they had discovered one another. But through the rigors of countless battles and the torment of losing everything they ever loved, Malo and Talfus had formed a bond of friendship and brotherhood that became a light in the darkest times they had ever known.
“I wish it would rain just once on this forsaken rock!” Talfus said, lifting one hand toward the sky.
Malo chuckled, a sound like the beginnings of a small planetary quake.
“What’s so funny?” Talfus said.
“Fish man out of water! Very funny!”
The confusion on Talfus’ face slowly dissolved into a half-cocked smile, and what began as a small chuckle between friends erupted into uncontrollable laughter. It was a dangerous risk to take. A Durax scout looking for signs of Dissenters could have heard the commotion from the bottom of the valley. But the levity offered them a welcome respite from the emotional strain of war and the seriousness of the task at hand. They tried hard to restrain themselves, but it was no use. The Moxen and Waadi laughed until they each wiped tears from their eyes.
“Do you remember family?” Malo’s voice lowered to a whisper in reverence for what he knew would be a heartrending subject for the amphibian.
Talfus’ eyes glimmered as he closed the clear membrane lids that were designed to protect his vision under water; but this time, he was simply trying to hold back his tears. His voice became distant as his memories slashed at his mind like a hot razor.
“With every rising of a new sun. Sometimes I wish I didn’t remember. I think it might make it easier to go on without them, but then I realize that forgetting them would be a hell worse than the scourge of the…” Talfus’ voice trailed off as he saw a faint red glow on a sleek, metallic ovoid attached to the butt of his gun.
Malo let out a resolute grunt and hefted his gigantic battle hammer across his chest as the tracking device started to blink repeatedly. With each passing second, the little light flickered faster. When the lens stopped blinking and burned a solid, bright red, the black under-belly of a Zebulon star freighter parted the clouds just ahead of them.
It was a beautiful machine. Its rounded nose flowed seamlessly into the sides of its contoured body panels. The cockpit was lower in proportion to the sides of the craft, and its small, darkened viewing panes were almost unnoticeable. If the ship was equipped with landing lights, neither Talfus nor Malo could tell where they should be on the flawlessly smooth surface, and its black matte finish failed to reflect even the slightest glint of lightning arcing across the sky. It was a ghost ship, built to disappear among the stars and outrun anyone or anything that happened to stumble upon it. It radiated an aura of elegant danger, speed and stealth; a craft, Talfus thought, quite befitting the legend of the Mewlatai.
Chapter 2: Commitments
Talfus leveled his weapon at the approaching craft as four doors abruptly opened on the bottom of the ship. He relaxed his trigger finger slightly as the cavernous, black openings at the front of the vessel gave way to two landing skids, followed by two identical planks in the rear.
Malo slowly sidestepped toward his partner, making certain to clear Talfus’ line of fire. Talfus’ marksmanship was fast becoming legend as the war with the Durax raged on, and Malo knew well enough that until the mysterious occupants aboard the ship disembarked and drew closer, the rifle clutched deftly in Talfus’ hands was their best line of defense against an attack.
“Why not land?” Malo grunted over the quiet purr of the freighter’s engines.
“I believe he’s scanning the surrounding area for any signs of an ambush.”
“Good idea. Why not we do?”
“A scanning frequency on this plateau could be detected from space without a barrier field to shield the signal,” Talfus said, like an older, albeit much smaller, brother showing his younger sibling the ropes. “The ship’s hull protects its transmissions, but we’ve got the next best thing: I posted lookouts on the north and south ridges of the plateau. If they see anything that looks like a Durax raid, they’ll call for back-up and signal us to abort the testing of the Serum and use our escape route.”
“What signal Malo look for?”
“If this transponder light on my gun starts to flash green, I want you to stop what you’re doing and run. I want you to run with all of your heart and strength back into the mine shaft and use the tunnels to lose any pursuers. Do you understand?” Talfus placed one hand over Malo’s heart and felt the slow, deep thud of his partner’s life force pounding against the Moxen’s chest like a war drum.
“Malo not leave without Talfus.”
“Malo, I’m giving you an order,” Talfus said with an edge of austerity.
“Malo die by fish man’s side. Won’t leave friend.”
Moxen use of spoken language was elementary at best. They were a simple, hardworking race with little use for the complications of words. Malo spoke no more but began to sing. Song was the purest expression of a Moxen’s emotions and could be as varied and as breathtaking as the stars in the universe. In this instance, Malo was singing to his friend of his commitment and brotherhood. His humming started in a low tone then gently rose in a beautiful, melodic crescendo. The mesmerizing aria reminded Talfus of swimming in the azure waters of the Zwale River on a lazy autumn afternoon while the Third Sun gently caressed the cool, glistening current with rays of golden amber. It was the most exquisite sound he had ever heard, and although it only lasted a moment, it felt like he had lived a lifetime bathed in its glorious resonance. He knew it was a rare honor for a Moxen to bestow this gift on alien ears; deeply moved, Talfus knew at that moment that he would concede and let his friend stay by his side.
“Malo have enough heart and strength to carry Talfus,” the Moxen said when his ballad was done. “Malo won’t leave fish man behind.”
Talfus couldn’t argue with the giant any further. He understood Malo’s feelings perfectly. From the moment of their pairing in the Dissension, Talfus knew that it would be physically impossible for even the strongest Waadi warrior to pull a Moxen out of harm’s way, but it hadn’t taken him long to decide he would sacrifice his life and fight to the end if Malo were ever injured in battle and incapable of escape. In his heart, Talfus knew the Moxen would risk life and limb for him too, but he never expected to hear the words, let alone the moving song, that so powerfully expressed Malo’s commitment.
“Malo, my friend,” Talfus said, smiling, “you have enough heart to move mountains.”
Chapter 3: Dark Stranger
Apparently satisfied that there was no impending ambush, the freighter pilot gracefully maneuvered the Zebulon to the ground. Talfus kept the barrel of his rifle trained on the front of the ship, although he wasn’t sure from where on the craft the crew would emerge. His comrade stood two short Moxen strides behind him and to the left.
Talfus’ scale-clad muscles tensed as two doors on either side of the cockpit elevated gracefully and perched in an open position. There was no movement from inside the vessel, and a look of confusion crept slowly across the wrinkled brow above Malo’s snout.
“How we know the Mewlatai?” Malo asked uneasi
ly.
“We’ll know them by sight, I think,” Talfus said without taking his eyes off the space hauler. “I’ve heard it’s impossible to mistake them for any other race. I’ve heard they have a certain…way about them.”
No sooner had Talfus finished speaking than a mysterious, cloaked figure glided from the starboard side opening of the craft and onto the craggy surface, making no sound as it moved. The stranger reminded Talfus of the waters around the Cape of Zalaste during high tide: graceful, flowing, and deadly. The creature’s movements were elegant but distinctly predatory, and both Talfus and Malo felt awe and fear whisper a warning into their minds. Though it was hooded, Talfus could feel the dark figure’s gaze piercing his soul like a blade. Just before his mind could send the electrical impulses to the rest of his body telling him to fire his rifle, the creature slowly and deliberately opened its cloak.
“I’m unarmed, master Waadi.” The stranger spoke with a growl as hard as the forbidding landscape around them.
“Would you be so kind as to lower your weapon?” The very tone of the newcomer’s voice struck dread into Talfus’ heart, and although posed as a question, he knew this was not a request. The stranger’s lack of caution as he strode toward them only added to Talfus’ doubts. Out of his peripheral vision, he noticed that Malo, too, was on high alert as he slowly moved his cloven hoofs wider apart and crouched slightly.
“I say again, I come to you by your request and I’m unarmed. Please lower your weapon.” This time the petition was softer and allowed Talfus the small hope that this outlander was the Mewlatai they had been waiting for.
“I’ll do as you ask, if you’ll do something for me,” said Talfus.
“Ask what you wish, master Waadi.”