THE VROL TRILOGY (11 page)

Bagatelle continued to give Jennie a
sharp look, but then relaxed a bit, saying, "In truth, Lieutenant,
I believe I was too late to the game. I should have acted sooner on
my suspicions. Now we have to hunt down another fugitive, and I
have a feeling I know which one is the more dangerous of the
two."

Swinging his body around, he roared,
"GET THOSE SHIPS BACK INSIDE NOW!"

Jennie took a deep breath and dropped
her shoulders, but was still immensely concerned about the current
state of crisis.

"Sir, how can I be of
assistance?"

Bagatelle looked
frantically around the bridge, scanned the view screen, and then
turned to the attractive lieutenant.


"Jennie, I need you to put on a
pressure suit and run a mag-cat with a grappler on the outside of
the hull. Help to get those Draeders back onto the flight
deck."

The lock field had been
activated by a quick-thinking tech, only moments after Johnson had
fled with in his Draeder, so
only
a couple dozen of the deadly attack craft had
been lost. Unfortunately, nearly all flight deck techs on duty, and
some 17 pilots lost their lives, and they most certainly
were
not
recoverable.

Bagatelle turned to a senior officer
nearby and said, "Get a security team to the quarters of Lt. Ryder
Johnson and turn that room upside-down. Find out what the hell he
was up to, and see if we can get a clue as to what his intentions
are." He was starting to piece the puzzle together with a bit more
clarity now.

The recovery operation was long and
arduous. As the Revolution had dropped out of side space at nearly
zero velocity, it had to remain in place while crews worked to
salvage whatever they could. Once they had gathered everything
possible in their vicinity - eight Draeders and the bodies of some
eight techs and three pilots - the Revolution made for Earth on
full burn. The massive warship, although not very maneuverable, was
faster in a straight line than any Draeder, so in reality they were
only 30 minutes behind Johnson's craft, even though they had spent
a good two hours cleaning up the mess he made.

Jennie finished with the cleanup effort
and retired to her cabin, where, on her desk she saw a bottle of
that expensive tequila and a note written on her static
wallboard.

Jennie, sorry we didn't
have a chance to get together, but we'll meet again
soon.

Count on it.

Ryder

The note was not a kind goodbye letter
- it was taunting and cruel. What kind of a sociopath was he? She
thought he was a bit rough around the edges, but had great promise,
and he just ended up being a murderer. She started to cry and beat
her fists against the wall, nearly taking the tequila bottle and
smashing it, but just stopping herself short of doing so. She would
not be weak. She was going to save that bottle, and every time she
saw it she would be reminded of his betrayal. She vowed to track
Ryder Johnson down and bring him to justice.

No. I am going to kill him.

Lt. Johnson rounded the
backside of Earth's sole satellite, and started preparing
atmospheric re-entry vectors. While no one on the Revolution was
even sure that Earth still existed, Johnson knew it did, for a
fact. His father had a team of scientists working on a side space
probe that auto-dropped right into Earth's orbit some months ago.
This enabled them to verify Earth's existence and to analyze the
planet quite thoroughly, all the while acting as if they were
waiting on the Military Complex to make a
first contact
via the hook drive. It
was all an elaborately planned ruse, and getting the probe to Earth
was complete luck anyway. Councilman Johnson's science teams had
gleaned enough information out of military research to put together
a small SSCC drive for the device - but building a massive one,
able to propel a large ship through side space was on a completely
different level.

Johnson's smile behind his full-face
helmet wasn't one of happiness or joy - it was one of ruthless
ambition and victory. It was victory at the expense of a mighty
warship and maybe hundreds of dead crewmen. Almost completely
amoral in the application of his father's plans, he felt absolutely
no regret for what he had done. The only regret he had was that he
had not conquered Jennie Escalante. He wanted to meet up with her
again one day, pour that entire bottle of tequila down her throat
before having his way with her, and then throw her off a
cliff. That was his true nature.

Chapter 7
- Vid Time

Max stood next to Draagh, feeling
disoriented, as it was his first time teleporting. In reality, he
had no idea what had just happened, until Draagh started giving him
a detailed explanation.

"Max, please stand here for a moment,
my boy. The first time is always a bit nauseating. We just
performed a 3D slip. That is, we arrived at specific X, Y and Z
coordinates, and have traveled over 7,000 kilometers in a fraction
of a second."

Draagh beckoned Max to take a seat on a
chair less than a meter away. They appeared to be in a room with
ancient-looking computers and racks full of servers and archaic
network switches. Draagh strolled over to a computer and flicked
through it, bringing up what was called a website, in a quaint GUI
on the computer screen. Max gathered himself and scooted his chair
over closer to his strange new friend.

"Draagh, what are we doing here, and
where is here?"

Draagh gave the young man a
concerned look, and stated, "We are in what used to be an IT
department, in a building in Los Angeles, California, in the former
United States of America. This had eventually turned into an
underground operation, as the government banned the totality of
electronic communications that were not approved by the censorship
boards, all in the name of
fairness and
equality
, of course."

Max noted the sarcasm in Draagh's voice
and turned to the screen as the old sage continued.

"This facility had archived exabytes of
data from what was a free Internet, which had enabled mankind to
learn and communicate on a scale unheard of in its history.
Unfortunately, politicians were not fond of the fact that this form
of communication also exposed their crimes and weaknesses, so they
banned it."

Max nodded, watching Draagh navigate
through the archaic interface, using a small, handheld sliding
device that he moved along a pad on the desk, occasionally pressing
on a button on the device, which caused clicking sounds. When his
new friend found what he was looking for, he clicked what was
called a link, causing a small vid to play. Max watched in horror
as amateur vid footage showed the Vrol invasion on the ancient vid
display (Azul technology had provided semi-transparent holographic
vid displays for decades).  Black-colored, organic-looking
ships were gliding through the air, the skin of the crafts
undulating and shifting, as horrid creatures, resembling giant
bats, exited from the larger vessels, as if they were smaller
attackers themselves. In fact, they were the aerial attack troops,
the Vrol having a flying warrior caste that did significant damage
over the ground, while the organic-looking ships fought Earth
fighters, themselves looking outclassed and backwards in
comparison.

Draagh gave Max a forlorn look and
shook his head side to side. "This was the beginning of the
invasion, Max. These are the creatures that destroyed this planet,
without mercy, without hesitation or compunction. Now I already
told you, yes, I already told you the Vrol were nearly defeated out
by Earth forces, but that resulted in the amoeba infection being
unleashed and wiping out almost every last man, woman and child, as
well as much of the fauna - but do you know what is even more
perverse than that, my son? The amoeba infection also killed the
Vrol's own troops. Yes, my boy. They massacred their own just to
defeat the humans. So, once they arrive at a world nothing can stop
them. They bring death. They are death."

Max continued to stare at the screen,
horrified at what he was watching.

"But Draagh," inquired Max, "why did
you bring me here to show me this? Don't you have any technology
like we do, such as a portable console?"

Draagh nodded his head and responded,
"Yes, my son. I could have simply conjured an infoscreen to show
you all of this, but I felt it important for you to see from the
eyes, the ears and the technology of your ancestors, so you could
understand the severity of this. Also, so you would realize they
must be eliminated, wherever they are encountered, wherever they
exist. You see, Max, that alien race, the one that is heading
toward Azul, is the Vrol."

Draagh shut off the computer and stared
into the blackness of the paper-thin chip monitor upon which they
had viewed the invasion vid. Pensive for but a moment, he looked at
Max, who sat, in a practical state of shock, when he then turned
away from the young man.

Nearly unwilling to believe what he had
just seen, he looked at Draagh, who had his again back to him, and
said, "Is this why you came here, why you found me?"

Draagh slowly nodded his head up and
down, still looking away. "Max, are you willing to come with me? I
need to take you somewhere so you may learn. There are abilities
you are unaware of that you possess, and the only place I can teach
you to use these abilities is somewhere far away. Are you willing,
my son?"

"Of course!" cried Max. "Anything,
anything at all. I can't allow this to happen to my world, my
people! This is crazy! Do we have time to do this?"

Draagh regained his composure enough to
slide Max a slight grin. "Oh yes, my son. Do you not remember it
will be years before that alien fleet, the Vrol, arrive at Azul? We
most certainly have time, but before we go we have one more thing
we must do. We must go back to your ship and wait for the military
to arrive."

"Whaaaaat?!?" exclaimed Max. "We have
to wait for the military? But, but… they want to kill
me!"

Draagh chuckled lightly as he
thoughtfully stroked his beard and braided mustache. "Leave that to
me, my son. Even during the short duration of your pursuer's trip
across space, things have changed. Yes, things have changed quite a
lot."

Draagh grabbed Max under his arm and
lifted him up, then tamped his staff into the ground yet again,
causing concussive waves to knock the workstation chairs back,
tumbling end over end.

The two were gone in a
flash.

###

As the Revolution entered Earth orbit
the airlock alarm sounded, but this one a mere warning that it was
being properly initiated. Pilots ran to their Draeders and techs
scrambled all over the flight deck, preparing the remaining
Draeders for immediate launch. One by one, they lined up and passed
through the lock field, the only thing separating them from the
cold grip of death in space.

As the attack craft blasted out of the
Revolution, Admiral Bagatelle was observing the entire operation
from the bridge, with Lt. Commander Vasquez and Lt. Escalante at
his sides, to his right and left, respectively. Turning to his
right, he instructed Vasquez to order a spread formation over the
western coast of the South American continent, where Johnson's last
activity had been traced on lidar. She sat down at her command
console and began giving instructions, coordinating the squadrons
into effective sweep and search patterns. Then, turning to his
left, he gave Jennie a concerned look.

"Lieutenant, I know you want to be part
of the operation as we have more Draeders than pilots, but I need
to you stay here for now. I plan on apprehending Gunnarsson myself,
and when I go, I am taking you with me. Understood?"

Jennie snapped to attention. "Sir! Yes,
Sir!"

Bagatelle couldn't help but crack a
small smile, with Lt. Escalante being so professional at all times.
His pride in her grew on a daily basis.

"Ok, Lieutenant - back to your duty
cycle. We must stay on schedule."

Jennie spun around and headed to the
galley, where she would grab a handful of beef and eat voraciously
while going to her next duty station, reviewing electrical
subsystems that fed into the hook drive. They needed to be 100%
certain that Johnson didn't somehow sabotage the hook apparatus,
stranding them there, light years away from their home
world.

Lt. Commander Vasquez turned and looked
at her commanding officer, displaying a touch of concern on her
face.

"Sir, she really doesn't know… does
she?"

Bagatelle kept staring at the massive
view screen and the smaller, individual flight readout screens that
encircled the primary display.

"No. Not yet… and neither do you, Lt.
Commander." Pausing briefly he gave her less the look of a
commanding officer, and more of a friend – or something else, and
leaning forward onto her control panel, said, "I'm hungry, Ali.
Care to join me for lunch?"

###

Out near the Peruvian coastline, Lt.
Johnson circled over the once-beautiful city of Mira Flores while
looking for any signs of visitation by Gunnarsson. The side space
relay in orbit around the planet had identified Gunnarsson's ship
in that area, but due to the typically heavy cloud cover on the
Peruvian coastline it was unable to track his current whereabouts,
as clouds interfered with lidar. He brought his Draeder down onto a
street, close to some indentions in the heavy, but brittle, ancient
concrete. Getting out, he ran over and verified that the landing
pads on Gunnarsson's craft had created the indentions.