Darklanding Omnibus Books 10-12: Hunter, Diver Down, Empire (Darklanding Omnis Book 4) Read online

  Assignment

  DARKLANDING

  Omnibus: Episodes 10, 11 & 12

  By Craig Martelle & Scott Moon

  Copyright © 2017 Craig Martelle

  All rights reserved.

  ISBN-13:

  978-1722982720

  ISBN-10:

  1722982721

  Cover art by Kevin McLaughlin

  Editing services provided by Mia Darien – miadarien.com

  Based on a concept by Diane Velasquez, Dorene Johnson, and Kat Lind who also provide developmental editing for the series

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, and incidents are either the products of the author's imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

  We’d like to thank the following beta readers who make sure that this story goes to you as error free as humanly possible. They also keep us on track with the stories. What a great group of people we have helping us to tell better stories.

  Micky Cocker

  Kelly O’Donnell

  James Caplan

  Diane Velasquez

  Dorene Johnson

  Scott and I would both like to thank our families for putting up with us as we share the stories in our heads. We type slowly and it takes time to capture the words. Thank you for taking care of us while we’re doing our thing.

  Table of Contents

  DARKLANDING

  Episode 10

  Hunter

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  Episode 11

  Diver Down

  CHAPTER ONE: Fight

  CHAPTER TWO: Egoak Village

  CHAPTER THREE: Pull Together

  CHAPTER FOUR: A Date with Destiny

  CHAPTER FIVE: The Swimming Unglok

  CHAPTER SIX: Lovers’ Quarrel

  CHAPTER SEVEN: What Quark Knows

  CHAPTER EIGHT: Judy Ortega

  CHAPTER NINE: Dickles Gets Serious

  CHAPTER TEN: Leslie Stargazer, Informant

  CHAPTER ELEVEN: The Cost of Doing Business

  CHAPTER TWELVE: ShadEcon’s Deadline

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN: The Deep

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN: The Show

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN: Down the Drain

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN: Proletan

  Episode 12:

  Empire

  CHAPTER ONE: Above Ground

  CHAPTER TWO: Waterway

  CHAPTER THREE: Dixie’s Delight

  CHAPTER FOUR: Dixie’s Espionage

  CHAPTER FIVE: Bondsman

  CHAPTER SIX: A Full Time Job

  CHAPTER SEVEN: Where is Maximus Now?

  CHAPTER EIGHT: Stood Up

  CHAPTER NINE: Unlikely Partners

  CHAPTER TEN: Proof of Loyalty

  CHAPTER ELEVEN: When Shaunte Goes Missing

  CHAPTER TWELVE: A Call for Help

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN: Dropship

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN: Trapped and Alone

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN: Desperate Measures

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN: The Last Hurrah

  Social Media for Scott Moon

  Social Media for Craig Martelle

  Author Notes: Scott Moon

  Author Notes: Craig Martelle

  Episode 10

  Hunter

  CHAPTER ONE

  “Come in, Sheriff. This is your deputy,” Mast Jotham whispered into the handheld device—a radio, Thad called it. Muchly like a data tablet, but with only one function.

  “Go ahead.” Thad’s voice sounded distant and scratchy through the speaker.

  “I am following a suspicious individual. Very muchly keeping to the shadows, this one is. I cannot imagine where he must be going,” Mast said. Beside him, a dog with distinctive pig features crouched silently.

  The sound of dinner plates and soft music accompanied Thad’s hushed words. “How do you know he’s a he? What’d I tell you about making assumptions? A good defense attorney will hammer you in court.”

  “I am not muchly remembering there are hammers in courtrooms. Would the lawyer bring his own hammer for this senseless violence?” Mast paused, unable to untangle the sheriff’s meaning. A surprising thought came to him. “Are you on a date with Miss Shaunte?” He nearly stood and revealed his hiding place to the suspicious character he was stalking.

  “Yeah, I am. Not going well. Can you get to the point?”

  Holding the radio down at his side as he hurried after his quarry, Mast ducked behind a trolley bench. He stooped low enough for his coat to touch the hard-packed street and rumbled his words into the battered mic. “You should not be muchly doing work when on a date. The ladies of the Mother Lode have said many times how rude this is. Jerky McJerkfaces do this. Perhaps Miss Shaunte will understand if you take a check of rain.”

  “You can’t offer a rain check once the date has started,” Thaddeus said. “She’s gone to the powder room. You’ve got a few minutes. What’s so suspicious about this mope?”

  “Mope?”

  “Yeah. Mope, creeper, suspect. The person you’re following.”

  “He’s moving muchly suspiciously. And he is big and broad-shouldered like a human male. Maximus also believes this nefarious character is masculine.”

  “Really?” Thaddeus asked. “Did you learn to speak pig-dog?”

  “He is growling. Maximus is growling, not this human. And before you ask, I know he is human because he is so short, maybe six of your human feet tall.” Mast attempted to see into the shadows of the next street, but it was impossible. He did not like the eerie silence this late at night. “I do not understand this measurement of feet. Why not count heads? It is muchly easy to see how tall a person’s head is, then make a decently good comparison. Then you merely study the person and imagine their heads stacked up to their full height. Easy. Muchly easier.”

  No response from Thad.

  “Sheriff Fry?” Mast asked. “Are you in range? Can you hear me? Has Miss Shaunte come back and caused you to hide the radio? I did warn you not to work while on your food-centered courting ritual.”

  The radio made several rustling sounds.

  “Hello, Mast. How goes the war?” Shaunte asked.

  Mast thought there was a minor grabbing contest for the radio going on between the sheriff and the Company Man. “That is an interesting expression. There is no war. Only a creeper heading into the industrial district.”

  “Keep up the good work, Deputy. I’m putting this radio in my purse. Call on your tablet if there is an emergency. Ruined Date One, out.”

  Mast pondered the conversation. He liked Miss Shaunte, and the sheriff. It was better that he was not on the date with them. They were probably eating blandly disgusting food.

  He looked down at Maximus. “Can you still see him?”

  The pig-dog rolled his eyes, lifted one leg to pee on the side of a building, and snorted several times.

  “I do not know why you woke up from your nap to come with me. I am glad. Please do not misunderstand me, you filthy animal.” This last
was an endearment Thaddeus used often when talking to Maximus. “Can you smell him?”

  “Snort, snort, snort.”

  Mast nodded and crept forward. “Very good, then. We must be proceeding.”

  Together, they crossed another street and moved into a poorly lit section of Darklanding. There were lights, but only enough to allow security cameras to work. And that wasn’t much because many of the cameras worked on infrared technology. This entire part of the town was closed. The only thing happening here was the storage of goods, and the infrequent and very muchly unlicensed drinking establishment run from the back of a machine shop or warehouse.

  The places were nothing like the Cheap and Easy Saloon that had tried to compete with the Mother Lode. These people drank quietly and always had a lookout—because their liquor stills were unsafe and illegal. Mast saw them drinking in dark rooms, trying to be secretive, but not apparently remembering how good Unglok eyes were in the dark.

  Sheriff Thaddeus Fry would swagger into these places to punch butts and gather names, or was it acquire names while grabbing ass? There was something about asses in the expression, Mast thought.

  “Snort. Growl. Snort, snort.”

  “Yes, you wondrous Ambassador from Glakridoz. I must be focusing.”

  The stranger continued past each den of iniquity. Mast hesitated to cross near an open bay door where it seemed there were men and women brewing alcohol from a particularly smelly still.

  “Snort, snort.”

  When Mast looked down, he saw the pig-dog seemingly smiling with his tongue lolling from his mouth. He stomped one of his five-toed hooves softly.

  “No, Maximus. You may not consume the alcoholic beverages. It gives you many bad behaviors and smells.” Pulling his hat down to cover his face, for reasons he didn’t really understand, he moved quickly past the open bay door. No one noticed him or the snorting Glakridozian at his side.

  A short time later, two things happened: the stranger went into a building without lights, and Maximus changed dramatically.

  The pig-dog stopped suddenly, crouching low and staring at the shadowy figure as he disappeared through a darkened doorway. Feet spread wider than usual, each of his hoof-toes gripping the pavement, Maximus stared with fierce malevolence.

  “What is it, Maximus?”

  The pig-dog continued to growl and snarl at the building where the stranger had disappeared. After several angry grunts, the animal looked at Mast and rolled his eyes as though to say he didn’t have language to explain himself.

  “I do not speak pig-dog either. So sorry.”

  “Snort.” Maximus resumed his angry vigil. The growls that came from his thick, hairy throat now had an ominous clicking sound that frightened Mast.

  “Stay here. I will be going around the building to see if there are alternate points of egress.”

  “Snort, snort, snort. Snort, snort. Huff. Snort, snort.”

  Mast stared down at the animal. “What are you talking about? Does that mean something?”

  Maximus rolled his eyes.

  “Do not muchly roll your eyes at me. It’s not my fault your species didn’t evolve to have language.”

  Maximus farted.

  “You are muchly disgusting.”

  Tongue lolling halfway to the ground, Maximus seemed to smile. “Snort.”

  “I will return. Stay here. Watch for the stranger who is creeping and moping around with such suspicious characteristics.” Mast moved slowly, aware that a person inside the building might be able to see out better than he, Mast Jotham, Deputy Sheriff of Darklanding, could see in. His eyes were very good, however. He was an Unglok. This darkness was nothing compared to that of a deep cave.

  He returned a half-hour later to find Maximus staring fixedly at the door. “I thought you would be asleep by now.”

  Maximus growled, his upper lip curling back to reveal an alarming double row of teeth.

  “There are no doors but the front door,” Mast said.

  Maximus had nothing to say about that. All his attention was reserved for the door and the stranger that might emerge from it. “Growwwwl.”

  Mast retreated to a place where a dim security light glowed. He pulled his arndot, a traditional Unglok notebook, and recorded his adventures with the pig-dog. The feel of the paper and the smell of the ink from his pen soothed him. I do not like this stranger, he wrote. The human words were difficult to craft and seemed magical on the pages of his arndot. Maximus, the pig-dog-thing from Glakridoz, seems very muchly concerned with this stranger we are pursuing. I’ve never seen the animal so afraid.

  He put away the notebook. “Yes, Maximus is very muchly afraid. Fear brings out aggression in many species. I must learn the purpose of this strange human before something bad happens.”

  CHAPTER TWO

  P. C. Dickles stared at the underground lake. His crew muttered and cursed. Some skipped rocks across the dark surface, which intrigued him. There was something soothing about the way the flat stones bounced across the glass-like surface only to vanish into the darkness. Ripples spread outward from each collision with the surface.

  “I hate this place.” Burke, one of his new foremen, was built like a lumberjack or a bouncer. He’d used his strength to haul exotic minerals out of places the excavators couldn’t reach, earning the attention of the SagCon foreman in the Sector 5 mine. He’d come to work for Dickles thinking it was a sure way to get promoted. “I hate this entire planet.”

  Dickles wanted to snap at the man. He was tired, frustrated, and had no patience for miners who didn’t enjoy mining. He didn’t understand why a person would work so hard at a job he or she didn’t love. It was too dangerous, too hard on body and soul, to do it just for the money, or that was what he told himself. Maybe his circumstances were different than most of the desperate hard cases who worked for him.

  Realizing how much the rock throwing had relaxed him, and how Burke was bringing an unreasonable amount of anxiety back into his thoughts, he exhaled forcefully. “SagCon is sending submersible drones to map the lake. By next year, we’ll have a state of the art operation for aquatic mining.”

  “SagCon gonna keep paying us until then?” Burke asked.

  “Not without a steady flow of exotics,” Dickles said.

  “So that’s a no? Freaking alien planets. We strike it rich and there is a freak flood. What caused this fraking disaster?”

  P. C. Dickles knew the answer better than most. He’d promised Thaddeus Fry to keep the ship secret. Now he hoped and prayed there wasn’t another one down there. Next time a galaxy jumping spaceship smashed free of the mines, there would be a collapse to end all collapses.

  “I ain’t gonna work for free. None of us are,” Burke said.

  “Then get back to work.” Dickles handed him a nearly flat pan. “There is newly-ground sand all along the edge of this lake. The shearing force of collapsing stone made it. We pan the shallows long enough, and keep the air filters gathering dust in the one-zero-five shaft, and we just might earn our paychecks. Which means we can all keep our jobs.” He was speaking to the group behind Burke now.

  Burke and several of the others looked at their pans.

  “It’s the best I have right now,” Dickles said.

  Burke shrugged. “It’ll do for now. Just hurry up and figure a way to get some real ore out of this mine. We all know it’s down there.”

  Dickles nodded. “Sure thing, Burke. I’m all over it. One miracle solution coming up.”

  “I should have saved last month’s check, but holy mineshafts, the girls at the Mother Lode loved me before this flood ruined everything.” Burke and the others squatted in the shallows and sloshed water and sand around and around in their pans. From time to time, they wiped flakes of raw exotics into vials and stowed them on the cart Dickles had set up.

  He knew they kept half for themselves, not that they’d be able to do much with it. Bootlegged exotics were difficult to sell without connections. Burke and the others would
get credits on the mega-credit from the shavings they kept for themselves.

  Once his crew was working steadily, he hiked to a secluded cave-cove and carefully waded out to where it was knee deep. He couldn’t swim and there were submerged shafts thousands of feet down. It took several minutes to find the cable he was looking for. Dragging it up took twice as long and sent burning fatigue through his shoulders by the time he was done.

  The capsule was clever, probably one of his best mining inventions. He needed to secure the patent or find someone good at legal stuff like that. One-way vents on the heavier bottom portion caused it to gather mineral samples when he pulled it along the floor of the subterranean lake. What made it special, however, were the uniquely balanced foils and skids that allowed it to be pulled along vertical surfaces collecting bits of rock that he could examine.

  He sighed. The idea had come from the purpose-built ocean mining drones he’d read about. All he’d done was create a crude, non-computerized version. The problem was size and scale. Without an internal power source, he would be limited to what he was strong enough to pull up. And he was fishing blindly. The SagCon versions that would arrive next year would have remote control cameras, navigation, and would be able to screw into the side of sheer rock. They could be used to establish the base of an aquatic conveyer system.

  It would be better than the submarines the Company Man had also ordered. Those required specialized crews who demanded extraordinary salaries. He’d started his online training, but it would be difficult to complete in time. If submarines were going to be used, he wanted to be in charge of the Darklanding fleet. He wanted to be the first to go down into that magical and terrifying environment.

  Maybe there was a bright side. It would be a mining operation like no other. Until then, he had to keep his job and he felt the greater weight of helping to keep Darklanding on the star map.

  ***

  “I need to talk to you, sir,” Quark Guthrie said.

  P. C. Dickles wiped his face with a towel before he turned around. Between managing the few dry digs still running and building his primitive water drones, he was a dirty, greasy mess. And exhausted.