Dragon

By James Austin McCormick

Dragon is an epic, action packed tale of adventure set amongst the political backdrop of an uneasy intergalactic cease fire. As worlds conspire against each other, Gax, an insane warlord, stockpiles an arsenal of ancient technology in his attempt to rule known space.
Two ill matched and reluctant heroes stand in his way; Sillow, a neurotic and cowardly Sylvan and Brok, a surly and ill tempered Herkulun warrior. After a chance meeting in a seedy, mobster owned casino the two find their fates interlinked as they are propelled into a series of hair raising adventures that takes them from wanted smugglers to agents of a peace keeping alliance.
As war grows close once again Sillow and Brok realize it is they alone who must stop Gax and prevent Armageddon, a very tall order indeed for two unlikely heroes.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Class Act Books
• Release date: Oct 22, 2016

Book preview

Dragon

by

James Austin McCormick

Published by

CLASS ACT BOOKS

121 Berry Hill Lane

Port Townsend, Washington 98368

www.classactbooks.com

Copyright  2013 by James Austin McCormick

Names, characters and incidents depicted in this book are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental and beyond the intent of the author or the publisher.

No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.

ISBN: 978-1-938703-20-1

Credits

Cover Artist: Bev Haynes

Editor: Sherry Derr-Wille

Copy Editor : Francis Thomas

Printed in the United States of America

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

Dedication

For my mum Elizabeth – my first reader

The Dark Age

For decades there were fire and chaos. The cries of war filled space as the sentient races, all newly emerged from their world cradles, fought each other to the brink of destruction. Only then was the cease fire declared, a tentative agreement at best, but at least it gave hope.

Chapter 1

The Legacy of Suleiman

Asmara was a small desert moon orbiting its gas giant parent at a distance just great enough to put it outside the planet’s radioactive reach. It was a cold, dusty little place, barely capable of supporting microbic life. Yet it did have one thing in its favor, its location. Asmara was in the gray zone, an area of space almost central to the six worlds. None dared lay claim to it and consequently it was free of all outside authority. That was why the crime syndicates built their Pleasure Dome there, and in the two decades after the Dark Age Wars it flourished.

It was here, at one of the casino tables, the last three players of a merciless card game studied their hands. Two of them, a human and a reptilian Tuolon, were far from happy, glaring angrily at the third player as he whistled out a tuneless melody. If Sillow had been human, he would have been judged to be no more than fourteen. He wasn’t; he was a Sylvan, and his childlike face and adolescent build were quite normal for his twenty-five years.

As he looked over his cards from beneath a shock of dark green hair, only his large eyes were visible. It was just as well, for his lips moved frantically as he mentally played through the possible scenarios.

Finally he gave a little nod and placed his cards face down. He took his cigar from the ashtray and began puffing heavily on it. The human, a skinny man with pockmarked features, ran a hand over two day’s stubble,

Make your damn move, he growled. If you’ve got the goods, show them.

Sillow shrugged. Hey, give me a break Garrick, he replied in his soft, musical voice. You can’t rush something like this.

He looked at his cards again, studying them as he blew smoke rings in the air. His little feet tapped all the while on the hard marble floor.

His fellow players regarded him with extreme irritation, and the human came to the decision the Sylvan was playing mind games with them. The truth though was far different. Sillow was scared and was trying to decide how best to safely extricate himself and the credits he needed from his present circumstances.

Although he couldn’t say why, he was certain now the Tuolon was a professional assassin here to kill him. His would be killer even blew his ship up to stop him escaping.

Since then the little Sylvan had been busy at the tables making the money he needed to get a freighter off the Dome. There was a royal summons to answer and he’d delayed too long already. The message was just one word, Suleiman.

Okay, ready, he finally announced. You want to see this hand it’ll cost you… he paused for effect, six more credits.

The human thought hard for a moment, shook his head then threw the chips into the pot in the middle of the table.

Damn your pointy green ears, he growled. You take me on this hand and I lose the whole pay from my last haul.

Sillow turned to the Tuolon. What about you, En’n? he asked, knowing his reptilian companion was more than out of his depth. The leathery area around the Tuolon’s eyes tightened and he opened his canine like jaws to reply. His physiology prevented him from forming Amalgam words, the common language used between the races. Instead he was forced to rely on the electronic collar at his neck.

Not enough credits, he answered in a synthesized voice, but stay, watch.

Sillow shook his head. Sorry. You know the rules. You fold, you leave. He waved his cigar towards the exit. Bye.

Stay, the reptile hissed.

Can’t do that, Sillow told him.

The Tuolon thrust a clawed finger at the Sylvan. I do not take orders from a weak creature like you,

Sillow blew a cloud of smoke directly at the huge reptile. I’m afraid you’re going to have to.

The Tuolon’s lip curled away from his razor teeth. I will…

What? Sillow asked, placing a shaking hand to his cigar as he feigned a calmness he didn’t feel. You’ll kill me?

The Tuolon’s anger was growing, Sillow realized; now was the moment to push him past his limited self-restraint.

Get lost! he said.

The human gasped, pushing his chair away from the table. The Tuolon got to his feet, his powerful frame shaking with fury. "I will kill you," he hissed.

Sillow felt his heart beating like a jack hammer. He was ready to bolt at the reptile’s slightest move. A faint hum of a sentinel though told him his plan was working. The spherical droid appeared above them.

Sensors flashed as it monitored everything in its immediate environment, heart rate, respiration, hormonal skin level. Its three red optics trained on the Tuolon.

You have indicated a desire to commit violence, it stated in a cold, metallic voice. Is this assessment correct?

The reptile stared up at the black sphere. Not correct, he answered, nostrils flaring. No threat. His chest heaved as he answered.

No threat here, Sillow added, reaching over and giving the assassin a pat on the arm.

My friend though was under the impression you can remain at the table even if you aren’t playing.

Negative, the sentinel replied. It positioned itself in front of the Tuolon, laser banks flashing dangerously. State your intention, it ordered. Do you wish to continue with your hand or fold?

With a huge effort the Tuolon sat down. Play, he replied.

Sillow looked the reptile over. What can you bet with? he asked.

He leaned back, tapping a finger on his cheek. You’re almost out credits. How about jewelry? He looked at En’n’s simple animal hide armor, no. He frowned, then snapped his fingers. I know, he announced, pretending the idea had just come to him, your ship. The Tuolon gave a start.

Sillow took a puff on the cigar. Yeah, I could really do with one, you see… He fixed the Tuolon with a meaningful look. Some scum bag blew mine up.

Do you agree to this wager? the Sentinel asked in its emotionless voice.

Sillow watched En’n’s discomfort with satisfaction. The Tuolon, he knew, could not afford to lose his ship, but he could also not afford to let his prey out of his sight either. It was, after all, frustration with his elusive quarry which forced him to the card table in the first place.

The Tuolon nodded, fury burning in his black eyes. Okay, he said. I bet.

Sillow turned to the human. You’re a witness to this right, Garrick?

The man sighed. Guess so, he replied.

I am also a witness to the wager, the sentinel added. If the Sylvan wins the hand, the docking bay computer will be informed the ship has a new owner.

There was a pause, small lights flashing as the sentinel conveyed the message.

Proceed.

The man gave a shrug of his bony shoulders. What the hell, he groaned. He threw his cards down, four of a kind. The Tuolon gave a soft grunt then threw down a superior straight. The man let out a despairing cry and slumped back in his chair.

Sillow’s childlike face was unreadable. He shrugged and scratched his cheek in an absent minded way as he regarded the cards in front of him. Oh, well, he said after some moments, guess that makes me the winner. He flashed his reptilian opponent a smile then laid down a royal flush.

En’n froze, unblinking. His chest rose and fell dangerously, and his fists clenched so tightly his claws cut into his palms. The sentinel, Sillow knew, would be monitoring all this. It was time to push his adversary over the edge. He took a long draw on his cigar and blew a stream of smoke in his direction.

Bad luck, En’n, and so long, he said scooping the pile of credits towards him. He put them into the leather pouch around his waist.

How do you say it in Tuolon? Ah, yes… he finished putting the last of the credits away and leaned forward. Ekarak, he hissed in a bad imitation of the warrior farewell.

To the cold logic of the sentinel there was nothing provocative in these words, but Sillow knew such familiar language from one not of the Tuolon warrior caste would infuriate the reptile.

The assassin roared in fury and, forgetting all other considerations, swung at the Sylvan’s throat with his lethal claws. Sillow, however, with the quick reflexes of his race, backed out of range. En’n, his attempt frustrated, plunged into a berserker rage and began to swing out wildly in all directions.

Sillow pushed Garrick’s chair backwards, sending its occupant sprawling to the floor. En’n now lunged for Sillow. Before he could close the distance though, the sentinel fired an energy bolt, sending the reptile crashing unconscious to the floor.

The black metallic body turned, a large optic focused on Sillow. State your name and when you wish to depart.

Silla Low, the Sylvan answered, and I plan on leaving right now.

A wave flickered over the sentinel as lights flashed on and off in succession. I have made the arrangements. Take your winnings and depart.

Sillow needed no prompting. He was about to leave when he caught the haunted, despairing expression on Garrick’s face. He reached into his pouch and pulled out a handful of credits, far more than the man was able to count.

Tell you what, he said, throwing them down onto the table. I only stopped off at the Dome to pick up a fresh supply of cigars. How about you pick me up a couple months’ supply?

The man, still flat on his back, managed a small nod.

Sillow wiped the sweat from his brow. That should more than cover it. Now if you’ll excuse me, I really have to be somewhere.

~ * ~

The Tuolon ship was a sleek craft, built like a needle with a power core capable of great speed. He could make it to Sylvan in less than a day in this thing. There were, however, two big problems. The first was a good, working knowledge of the Tuolon language was necessary to operate the complex controls, as opposed to the few phrases he knew. The second was it was a two man ship, possibly three. There was no way he could pilot this thing alone.

Sillow gave a soft curse as he ran the problem through his mercurial mind. He brought a small fist down on the control panel in frustration. He had no choice but to hawk it at a low enough price to make a quick sale. Doing so, however, would mean more delay and danger too. The assassin En’n might be safely locked up, but whoever he was working with wasn’t.

Decision made, he rushed out of the craft and headed off in the direction of the barter quarters. The portcullis like doors opened automatically and Sillow rushed through. Two Tuolons were waiting for him. Smaller in stature than En’n and clearly not the fearsome killer their master was, they were nevertheless a frightening sight, especially for the diminutive Sylvan. The doors slammed shut behind him.

The master’s ship, one of them rasped. Return it to us. The reptile made a motion for him to step back inside. Only you have access, he went on, give us the codes.

Sillow realized it was all over if he did. What could he do? He’d never learned to fight and had no idea how to use the compact staff he carried on his belt. Even if he did, he seriously doubted he could have taken these two on anyway. His only advantage was his speed, but to make it work he needed to get some space between them and him.

Computer, he said, turning his head to speak into the voice com, this is Silla Low, he took a deep breath, then …help!

A warning siren sounded in response to his cry. The Tuolons panicked. One reached out to grab him, lunging forward. Sillow timed his move carefully. He jumped up onto his larger opponent’s outstretched leg and somersaulted over him.

Before either of the Tuolons could react, Sillow was sprinting away down the corridor. Help! he screamed again, this time at the top of his voice, somebody…anybody.

The Tuolons turned and raced after him but soon realized keeping up with their quarry amongst the labyrinthine corridors would be no easy matter.

Sillow never slowed, even as he heard his pursuers’ footsteps growing fainter behind him. Eventually though, curiosity overcame terror and he chanced a look behind him. He should have looked ahead for it was then he ran into the wall.

~ * ~

The last thing Brok expected was for someone to come flying round a corner and knock himself out on his chest. He looked down at the small, unconscious figure, wondering what a Sylvan could possibly be doing in such a place as the Pleasure Dome. Everything he knew of them suggested they were the most insular and reclusive of the six races. What then was this one doing racing down corridors? Moments later the Tuolons rounding the corner made the answer clear.

They stopped as they saw the heavily muscled form of the Herkulun. Brok was large, even for one of his own race, and wearing the dark, armor like attire of a high born warrior, he looked every inch the fearsome barbarian.

The Tuolons watched him carefully and began to whisper in their guttural tones. Beneath his heavy brow, Brok knew his blue eyes flashed with anger. He had not heard the reptilian language for a long time, and the memories the harsh sounds brought back to him were deeply unpleasant.

The Tuolons flashed their razor teeth and began to edge forwards. This was clearly a warning for the Herkulun to back away, but Brok’s defiant stance made his position quite clear. One of the reptiles drew a small, curved sword from under his cloak. The other pushed a stud on either glove, extending metal claws.

Brok realized he needed to even the odds a little otherwise he was going to pick up more than a few scratches. He noted the Sylvan carried blasters at his side, but an energy weapon would be useless in the Dome’s dampening field. There was something else though attached to his belt, a black cylindrical object. If the Sylvan possessed another type of weapon on him then that was it. As the Tuolons advanced he reached down and snatched it up. A quick inspection revealed a circular impression on one side. He gave a grunt and pressed it. Immediately the cylinder extended outwards creating a staff about six feet long. Each end was thicker than the rest of the staff and looked capable of delivering a powerful blow.

The first attack came from the one with the claws. He leapt at Brok with a speed the Herkulun was unprepared for, the razor sharp blades piercing his chest armor before he could react. Brok slammed a large fist into his attacker’s stomach, knocking him back winded against the wall. Before the reptile could recover, he knocked him out cold with a swipe of the staff.

Moments later the second Tuolon was on him, swinging the sword with lethal skill. Brok thrust the staff toward his midsection, but the reptile managed to side step it and launched his own counter attack, bringing the blade downwards towards the Herkulun’s skull. Brok grabbed his forearm, stopping the blade inches from his face. He tightened his powerful grip until he felt the bones snap beneath his fingers. The Tuolon gave a cry of agony and collapsed, clutching the broken limb.

Take your companion and go! Brok told him. There is no honor in fighting such unworthy creatures! The Herkulun stepped back, allowing him space to retreat. The Tuolon crawled over to his companion but instead of leaving he pulled a dagger out of the unconscious figure’s boot.

That would be unwise! Brok growled. His warning had no effect. Whether out of pride or fear of punishment for failure, the Tuolon wasn’t giving up.

Brok sighed. He didn’t have time for petty altercations. It would have been far better if the creature would lie down and accept defeat. The moment the thought came to him, a pin point of light flickered in his mind and he felt a tingling all the way down his arm. He watched in amazement as ribbons of blue energy shot out of the weapon and hit the Tuolon full on. The energy flickered in his coal black eyes for a moment before he collapsed unconscious to the ground.

Brok looked at the weapon with admiration on his usually taciturn features. Despite the fact the entire complex was saturated with a dampening field, the staff somehow was able to focus his thoughts, transforming them into psychic energy. He gave a nod of approval and could only wonder at the technological accomplishments of this reclusive species. Maybe the legends were true after all. Maybe they did have access to the ancient technology of a long forgotten race.

Brok pushed his thumb on the indentation to retract it, but instead two large crescent- shaped blades appeared at each end. Tentatively he tried again. This