Death Drop (79 page)

“An’ how’d they get that?” Simon’s curiosity overpowered his fear, and if it waned at all after the question dribbled from his mouth, it didn’t show. “I mean, with all due respect, mates, isn’t your lot s’posed to be uncatchable?” He looked from Tyrobus to Kaelth and back again.

“I don’t think it was DNA from a living Mewlatai. I think Helekoth farmed the blood from a body.”

“Whose body?” Dezmara and Simon queried simultaneously.

Tyrobus’ face was grim, and his golden-olive eyes were raging with emotion that neither of them could pretend to fathom. “My brother—Blangaris.”

“And he’s dead, right?” Dezmara said, her manners overwhelmed by her need for answers.

Tyrobus’ lips curled up and revealed a vicious set of fang teeth in a silent threat aimed straight at her.

“I don’t mean any dishonor,” she said, raising her hands up by her chest with palms turned out. “I just ask because the Dissension soldiers I ran into were hunting a rogue Mewlatai who had killed one of their men during a staged Serum drop.”

“Killed?” Blink said. “Who was it? Who was killed?”

“I don’t know, Doctor. Like I said, I didn’t really ask any questions. I’m sorry.”

Tyrobus looked like Dezmara had just stabbed him through the heart with his own Kaiten. He wobbled on his legs before stepping back and leaning against the table behind him. “You’re certain of this?”

“Said they had an eyewitness to the murder, but the man was unconscious so I didn’t hear the actual account.” Dezmara didn’t like where any of this was going, and her face was frozen in a perpetual frown.

“Is it possible the Durax coulda…” Simon nodded at Kaelth, but Tyrobus failed to understand what he was trying to say. “You know, the whole house thing an’ the comin’ back to life bit that you don’t really consider comin’ back to life an’ whatnot.”

“Impossible!” Tyrobus growled in a voice that was more of a plea than an assertion. “Only a Mewlatai can resurrect another into their next house!”

“Tyrobus,” Dezmara said in the most polite voice she had, “if I may. How’d Blangaris die in the first place? Was it his last life…I mean,
house
?”

Tyrobus had turned his back to the room, and he was looking down at his table without seeing. Dezmara could hear his heavy breaths, and everyone in the room was silent out of respect for a man who was torn to shreds over the loss of his brother and still grieving. “That,” he said after a great silence, “is the story of the Serum, and it is long.”

“Good,” Dezmara said with genuine satisfaction. “I haven’t been so close to death so many times in my short eight years as I have in the last—let’s see, been here almost eight weeks—three months, and every time I get an explanation as to why, the Serum isn’t far from the thick of it. I want to know what it’s all about. I also happened to have…” She looked over at Blink expectantly.

“Oh, oh, yes, yes—at least another month!” Blink said enthusiastically.

“A month. Plenty of time for you to tell me the tale.”

Tyrobus stretched his arms out along the top of the table and crossed one foot behind the other. He held this pose for a few seconds, and Dezmara could see the wheels turning inside his head through his bushy hair. He breathed in deeply and then let the air escape slowly through his nose. “Very well,” he said as he grabbed a high-sided chalice from his workspace. He turned to face the group and rocked back and forth on his feet as if deciding whether to go through with it. He made up his mind and took a few short strides up to one of the side walls in the building, pushing it aside, and walking through the opening.

From the small crack left in the sliding door, Dezmara caught a glimpse of what looked like armor on some sort of stand, but before she could discern any detail, Tyrobus’ big frame filled the gap again. He was holding his Kaiten sword by the sheath when he reemerged. It was a deep burgundy—or what some might call blood red—and Dezmara couldn’t help but notice how closely it matched her flight suit and jacket. Tyrobus walked to Dezmara’s side, folded one leg over the other, and sat down. He set the chalice down between them and motioned for Kaelth to hand him the little candle still burning next to the Maituk statuette.

“If you don’t mind, Shendo,” Kaelth said as he handed the flaming stick of wax to Tyrobus, “I’ll take my leave now.” Tyrobus bowed his head slightly, and Kaelth slipped out and closed the door.

“For me to tell this story with the honor and reverence it deserves, and for you to see it as it unfolds in your minds’ eyes, we require these.” Tyrobus touched the candle to the contents of the bowl, and they ignited with a whoomp! Soft tendrils of gray, fragrant smoke curled up and hung between them. He motioned for Simon and Blink to sit, and once they were in place, he laid his sheathed Kaiten across his lap and placed his fingertips together.

“I’m glad you’re here with the Mewlatai,”
a voice said clearly in Dezmara’s mind.
“I’m glad you’re here with Tyrobus!”
It was neither her rational mind nor the mysterious taunting voice from her past, and as she looked around to see if anyone else had heard it, Diodojo leaned his head hard into her shoulder. She scratched heavily behind his ears and then thought,
“Me too, Doj. Me too!”

Tyrobus opened his eyes after what Dezmara assumed was a prayer or some kind of meditation, and she leaned her weight against the sturdy flank of Diodojo, settling in for the long story of the House of Daelekon.

Epilogue

B
langaris’ black paw gripped the stick of his Zebulon with crushing force. His search of the strange, hooded creature he had found on Clara 591 and her ship hadn’t given him any clues to the whereabouts of his cursed brother. The others—in the gleaming ship—had turned out to be nothing more than thieves, and he had considered gutting each one just to feel his Kaiten cut through flesh. He was certain the other runners would give away something, but they turned out to be Dissenters chasing their tails in Helekoth’s twisted game to destroy them—a game that he himself helped begin. Now they were headed for the system with Pelota del Fuego; most likely to attack the Berzerkers. Although he was sure they would fail, he hoped somehow they would infiltrate far enough into the vile Dunewokt catacombs to destroy, or at the very least maim, Killikbar.

His face deformed with rage at the thought of the general of the Berzerkers, and he made a pact with himself, forged in the fire of his seething hatred, that after he finished dismembering Tyrobus, he wouldn’t stop until his blade had sliced Killikbar to bloody ribbons. A demonic laugh rumbled in his gut, but before he could bask in the ecstasy of his murderous vision, a voice spoke inside his head: a voice he had heard in his youth several lifetimes ago, a voice only he and very few others of his kind could hear, a voice he had long forgotten.

“I’m glad you’re here with the Mewlatai. I’m glad you’re here with Tyrobus!”

“I’m glad you’re there too, my little Maituk,” Blangaris said, “and I will be with you soon!” He let the laugh that was smoldering in his belly erupt from his throat as he charted his course. The engines streamed jets of red wrath as the Zebulon ripped into space; headed at full speed for the last of the Daelekons and Blangaris’ long-awaited revenge.

END
.

***

Thank you for purchasing
Death Drop
. I hope you enjoyed reading the story as much as I enjoyed writing it. Stay tuned for
Daelekon
, the second title in the D-Evolution series of novels. Please visit my website,
www.devolutionnovels.com
, for everything related to the D-Evolution Universe, including awesome character illustrations and bios, some tidbits about me, news, and more. You can also connect with the D-Evolution Universe online at:

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I look forward to hearing from you! Sincerely—Sean Allen