Evolving Crane Read online

  EVOLVING|CRANE

  Book One|Evolving Crane

  Dave Temperance Welch

  Evolving Crane

  Copyright © 2011 Dave Welch

  Registration Number: VAu001086574

  All Rights Reserved. Evolving Crane and all other works of Men of Sluggz, (M.O.S.; i.e., characters, story text, 3D and 2D illustrations, etc.) affiliated with the M.O.S trademark or brands, are the sole property of the author. No portion of this book may be reproduced in any medium, except for the use of quotes with permission from the author. The characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.

  Written by Dave Temperance Welch

  Edited by Natalie Leffall, Dr. Holland, and Erin Bledsoe

  Final Reading by Megan Raymond

  Cover Art by Ryan Schwarz

  Dedication

  For Levi, my first born.

  "I am more than a god, for he cannot harm you with his hands."

  7-Dial

  Prologue

  Behind constellations, too distant to fathom, lies a rock about the size of several solar systems. This asteroid is known as the Layo Galaxy.

  Here, the Xaris (a nation of living programs) have been at war with a race of ancient slugs.

  This race of slugs has had the potential to threaten the Xarchanzians’ quest for dominance.

  To simplify their endeavor, the Xarchanzians formed a coalition known as the Symbassy. Without ambivalence, the political body resorted to genocidal amplifications, nearly rendering the slug species extinct.

  At last, swaying the format of existence, the Xaris established supremacy over the galaxy, and the master race of androids ruled the day.

  Until…

  Today.

  CHAPTER 1:

  Space Void

  Layo Galaxy, Upper Riaxon: Grand Valla

  The end of a Layian quarter had come. Beings from untold distances gathered in the Symbassys’ main office at Grand Valla, one of the most luxurious structures within Riaxon.

  It stands over a thousand stories into the Layian environment. Each floor is Xarchanzian influenced and uniquely designed with Teledecks, with walls as thick as the Layian ground. Checkpoints surround the heavily guarded structure, and every room is enlarged, airtight, and soundproof to guarantee confidentiality.

  The third sun rose as several hovercrafts came flying through the valleys of the Layian outskirts.

  None other than Piayas Grosine of Zenickdale, a descendant of the Inatech tribe, occupied the rear hovercraft.

  Piayas is one of the greatest rulers to fall upon Xarchanzian eyes. He holds a strong voice in government and is quite fierce in his ruling. He's responsible for a lot of actions that led to the demise of the ancient slug genealogy. His plans were absolute, flawless, irreplaceable, and consistently unparalleled in accomplishment.

  On the contrary, he was easy to look upon. As always, he wore his fresh blue suit to compliment his impeccable demeanor.

  Piayas entered Grand Valla, gracing the corridor with his superior presence. This gathering also included a few notable mentions, such as Riva Aakush, Governor of Ebluemis 2; Android Programmed Administrator (APA) Eliza, for documentation purposes; Straton Mage, President of Interdimensional Travel; and finally, Velleayan Fice, Symbassy Coordinator and brother to the dreaded Simma Fice — just to name a few.

  The galaxy’s panjandrum of delegates arrived moments before Space Voids’ timetable commenced.

  They entered the meeting hall with a solemn look of perfection, a game face of sheer victory. And just as the high-ranking officials took their seats, Piayas quickly noticed that the Feuler (a spy in Layian terms) failed to arrive in the same manner.

  Traditionally, a Feuler (of the Xaris order) is hired by the caucus and usually given a job. In this instance, the Feuler was hired to affirm and deliver the clearance forms for space travel.

  This delay had become disturbing for Piayas. As he sat at the head of the elaborate table, he stared with a deadening gaze into Eliza’s eyes, who stood at the other end.

  She could feel Piayas shattering her glassy demeanor as the APA reviewed her documents, hoping to spot any errors.

  While the other officials collected themselves, Piayas’ concern grew.

  “Let us begin,” he ordered. “The cycle is short, and our Feuler could stroll in any minute.”

  “Raixon’s Transportal production has tripled within the last solar cycle,” announced Ordis Dant, Governor of Upper Riaxon.

  “Come. Stand next to me, Eliza.” Piayas interrupted, beckoning for the APA.

  Ordis sat back in his seat, humbling himself.

  Eliza dropped a few of her items, but after picking them up in a clumsy fashion, she briskly walked over to Piayas’s side.

  “I want to hear your findings,” said Piayas.

  She stood motionless.

  “The increase in output could take us across the lands in half the time.” Ordis blurted. “We cou-”

  “-Our Xarchanzian connects, provide us with immediate access to any Unitran system.” Eliza interrupted as if she had just booted up.

  Ordis gritted his teeth in discomfort.

  Just then, Paymer Ijan - Lower Quadrant Examiner, pulled out an Info Gram as Eliza continued her report.

  “The vital documents concerning Phlaxlur’s Chamber have been uncovered, but the script has yet to be deciphered. This process should take no longer than a prism cycle.”

  Ijan hesitantly put the Info Gram away as Piayas abruptly stood from his seat. Silence filled the room while he walked over to the large window to gaze into the vast alien land.

  “Where is the spy?” He uttered, propping his hands up on the window ledge. His hair shifted in the shade as the many suns elucidated the room.

  “He’s late.”

  The fierce ruler of Zenickdale glared over his shoulder and back into the tight-lipped sanctuary.

  “Continue,” he demanded.

  “Our findings indicate the latest black hole occurrence near the Ninth Quadrant,” Ordis responded. “Now would be an opportune moment to purchase as many Transportal Devices as possible t-”

  “-How far are we into Project: Rapture?” Piayas interrupted while walking back to his seat.

  Ordis closed his eyes and sat back with a puzzled look, distraining his once humbled face.

  Eliza answered instead. “Seeing that this event spans over the greatest distance ever in abduction history, we are only 20% into the process. We are awaiting clearance forms from our Feuler to transport a third of our merch to the Milky Way Galaxy. Horace Vaideen and his Assassins have supplied a space lot near a constellation called the Little Dipper. The distance, from that point, would normally take us about 400 light-years. However, with our Neon Drives, it would take us roughly two Earth weeks before reaching the planet’s gravitational pull,” Eliza concluded.

  The Zenickdale leader sat back in his chair, watching Eliza study her notes.

  “My biggest concern was the overall development of this black hole!” Howled Straton.

  “When’s next Space Void?” Ordis asked.

  Piayas cleared his throat. “Six quarters.”

  “Who’s 7-Dial?” Paymer mumbled.

  Now, this name hadn’t been uttered in over a million cycles. Just the sound of the legendary Titan’s name covered the room in awful, tense silence.

  The officials looked back and forth while Piayas sat up out of his comfort to engage the intrusive query.

  “That name…is a myth,” Piayas sternly asserted. “And we do not discuss myths. Nor do we have time for foolish, assumptive existences.”

  “I concur,” scoffed Ordis.

  “I heard, he co
nducted the first installation of Phlaxlur’s Chamber,” mumbled Velleayan. “Now we gotta worry about some crazed Flavius running free with an unlimited source of Light Ware materializing from a fucking internal factory. In fact, this meeting shouldn’t be about transportal devices or black holes… it should be about the Flavius, and this so-called myth! I’m sorry, delegates, but I’m tired of the high-ranking bodies pretending as if Arola doesn’t exist.”

  Velleayan glared at Piayas while Ordis glanced in bewilderment.

  In the silence, Velleayan continued.

  “This myth!” He screamed. “Has consumed the entire Lower Quadrant within a single Layian cycle. When it takes the average group of Xarchanzians nearly three, sometimes four cycles just to gain control of the Upper Quadrant drug trafficking—which is, by the way, still running rampant, plaguing all of Upper Riaxon! That’s no myth. Kontriss is no myth. And everyone wants to act like Arola doesn’t exist. Why?”

  Velleayan gazed deep into Piayas’s eyes, which stared right back, matching his anger.

  “I actually saw one of his creations,” Velleayan calmly continued.

  “Oh really?” Piayas bleated.

  “It was a rare Gray Garden with a horrible deformity streaming through his median. His presence was visibly challenging. You could smell the odor, the want for blood in the air. I was scared stiff. I couldn’t look in his deadening eyes without trembling.” Velleayan uttered.

  The officials looked on with varied expressions, but Piayas sat completely still in his seat, writhing with a mix of anger and confusion. All this time, he believed the tyrant was only a legend, but now, his belief blazed at a lesser percentile of crowned denial.

  The committee, in comparison, had become so draconian and impressively rigid that no one noticed the doors opening.

  As the doors closed, Qusar Gominis’ (Quadrant Divisor of Riaxon) batted his eyes, logging back into reality.

  “I heard he was building an army of those disgusting things. Their slimy secretions pollute the atmosphere.” Gominis added.

  A great abhorrence established itself amongst the delegates as the Feuler floated in unseen, edging in slothfully, passing by Gominis’ seat.

  “I think they all should be obliterated,” hissed Qusar.

  The Feuler stopped momentarily, standing motionless while turning to the back of Qusar’s head. But finally, the Feuler passed on behind Qusar, moving at an even slower, bewitching pace, nearly stopping with every controlled move.

  Still unnoticed, the Feuler completed this entrance in a sedated style, reaching his seat of burden.

  The First Assault

  “Nice of you to join us, Feuler,” Piayas shouted.

  The Feuler pulled his seat out from the large table.

  “I didn’t see you come in. We were just improvising,” Piayas chimed as the Feuler sat, scooting the chair under the table.

  “Awaiting your inevitable arrival….” Piayas added.

  “We apologize for our tardiness.” The Feuler answered with a deep, painful voice.

  “We?” Asked Straton.

  “Don’t question our Feuler,” snarled Piayas.

  “We are both hoping to shine some light on this discussion. I’m not!” The Feuler blurted.

  Piayas’ expressions sent a streak of plight through the Symbassy’s procedures.

  Illian Cronz, Symbassy Vice President and Chief Demographic Separatist, shuffled in his seat, clearing his throat.

  Then, they all observed the Feuler.

  The Feuler was covered in a dark gray cloak of rugged, uneven fabric from head to toe. It appeared to be quite murky and weighty, with multiple layers within the fabric that didn’t crease. The hood was larger than usual and a bit cloaking in fashion.

  The Feuler’s face was shrouded in so much mystery that the more you gazed, the more you strayed into his chasm—his confounding outline.

  Focusing on the eyes of the Feuler was similarly engrossing. They were stimulating, a tonic injurious to the faculty of sight. A bright light crowded the pupil area, compounded by a yellowish glow, spreading outward, faintly beyond the altered cloak.

  The Feuler’s presence, put a serious restraint on any verbal abuse. “Now. Where were we…” The Feuler whispered, softly placing both hands (palms up) on the organic table.

  “Huh?” The Feuler questioned as if someone spoke, then rambled on with, “We have a lot of information to share. No you don’t. You’re always lying.”

  “-So!” Piayas quickly inserted. “We know Riaxon has a significant amount of transportal devices. Our…illustrious Feuler here was hired to retrieve the clearance forms.”

  Piayas held his hand out towards the Feuler, gesturing for the documents.

  The Feuler looked to the ceiling with those guiltless eyes of damnation. “Aaahhh…about that.”

  “Feuler?” Piayas questioned, holding out his hand with persistence. “Do you have the clearance forms?"

  The Feuler looked from the ceiling down to Piayas’s hand and snatched away, apparently resisting some form of temptation. “…I just looked at those forms right before you ate them.” The Feuler announced.

  The officials looked around at each other in complete cynicism.

  “Hold up…somebody ate them?” Asked Velleayan.

  “Wait a minute. Who ate them?” Cronz retorted.

  “You ate them.” The Feuler insisted. “I didn’t eat them. Yes, you did. I was standing right beside you. I witnessed it.”

  “Feuler?” Piayas gently inserted.

  “Well, maybe I did,” the Feuler continued.

  “Feuler!” Screamed Piayas. “Who are you talking to?”

  “Well now…” The Feuler said. “That depends on who you’re talking to.”

  Various Walla filled the room while the officials wandered with lost perceptions. It seemed as if the Feuler was communicating with someone else on another level of assured dementia.

  The Feuler glared at the table and mumbled to Piayas with a scowl, “Me… Or me?”

  “Okay! I’m confused.” Ordis shouted, throwing his hands in the air.

  The Feuler studied his every move.

  “This meeting is venturing way off course,” Straton interrupted.

  Piayas was known for having a short fuse, and his patience for this type of veneration had grown thin.

  Piayas peered into the eyes of the Feuler unblinkingly.

  “Maybe we should give our Feuler another objective,” huffed Ordis. “I don’t know…something easier?”

  The Feuler nodded in agreement.

  “Why don’t you have the forms?” Piayas asked, holding his stare with his hand out.

  The Feuler didn’t answer.

  “I just want to know,” quizzed Eliza. “If we don’t retrieve the clearance forms, how will we go about rectifying this situation? I doubt we could reassign the Feuler to the same session. And an even bigger concern is, if the Feuler doesn’t have the documents, who does?”

  Ordis Dant, who was sitting right next to the Feuler, leaned in to whisper.

  “Feuler…?” Pled Ordis. “Who ate the documents?”

  The Feuler sat just as still as the other officials.

  Then, the Feuler’s left hand raised, like a student in class striving to answer that one question.

  “I did,” the Feuler admitted, lowering his hand.

  The room burst into laughter.

  This sacred meeting had become a hilarious stock of chuckling, but irritated apparatchiks. And the Feuler was to blame.

  Piayas, incapable of laughter, watching with a stone-face fading at a turbo speed.

  As the laughter finally subsided, Piayas pointed, scolding sternly. “You do understand that your mental illness has cost this operation dearly.”

  The Feuler’s head turned sideways, slowly looking at Piayas’s face.

  “I didn’t pay for this type of service!” Piayas bellowed, pointing his wicked finger. “Your blundering mistake, in this case, may cost you your
own existence. You know too much! You must be the stupidest, craziest, moron of a spy I have ever encountered!”

  The Feuler glanced away, searching over the surroundings of this sacred room, appearing to be lost.

  “Stupid. He just called you stupid. He sure did. Cause he definitely wasn’t talking to me,” the Feuler muttered.

  “You! Idiot!” Piayas interrupted while the Feuler talked in mindless circles. “I’m talking to you!”

  The Feuler’s left hand rose slowly, but the Feuler grabbed the hand and slammed it back to the table.

  Baf!

  “Now, now, now…” The Feuler cautioned. “I know how you get. I will not be responsible for your temper. Nu-uh. Not this time.”

  Once again, the Feuler seemed to suppress something while talking to another.

  Just then, from the head of the meeting table, the sound of a weapon zinged alive, turning every head in the infamous rally…every head except the Feuler’s.

  “Tell me,” Piayas snarled. “Feuler, how did you become a spy, exactly?”

  “Piayas. It’s ok. It’s fine… no big deal,” Ordis inserted.

  “Yeah, we’ll just re-employ the plan,” added Fice.

  “No!” Shouted Piayas. “I wanna know!”

  The Feuler turned to see Piayas aiming a high-tech weapon. The Feuler’s left hand fell slowly from the table. This movement was utterly inconceivable.

  “I can’t seem to gather your credibility. We’ve discussed too much in front of you, considering your faulty omissions.” Piayas shouted.

  “Well, he’s got a point there,” said Paymer.

  “Sir? Should I document planning for a second attempt in retrieval?” Eliza asked.

  Piayas aimed the space gun at the Feuler’s head.

  “Sir?” blurted Eliza.

  The Feuler slouched in the archaic seat, but strangely, only the left half of the Feuler’s body drooped while the other half sat still as a statue.

  This flopping sag of motion slipped away like a smooth glimmer of running light. The bizarre shift in body locomotives was so cool and calming that nobody noticed. Not even Piayas, and he was nearly in the Feuler’s face.