THE VROL TRILOGY (114 page)

"Max, can you help to run hard lines and
expand our lines of communication?" asked Bagatelle.

"G, I've been thinking, and I believe we can
do one even better, but we'll have to be absolutely positive that
we are dealing with allies, and not spies."

"What are you thinking about?"

"Comms. They work outside normal space/time,
so their transmission wouldn't be detectable by Azul
technology."

"Brilliant - absolutely brilliant!" exclaimed
Bagatelle. "Now, I have another question - would we also be able to
monitor the locations of these comms? In case there was someone
playing both sides?"

"Oh yeah, definitely. It's a bit draconian,
but we need to make this go without a hitch."

Thinking deeply, and taking everything
he had learned about nature's technology during his time in the
43
^rd
century, Bagatelle had a
question. It was logical, as all of his questions usually were, but
it was important to him.

"Max, how can you make comms that work if
there are no magic particles on Azul?"

"Oh, there are magic particles on Azul
and the moons. They are just inaccessible to man, as our
frequencies were adjusted in the 6
^th
century - don't you remember? The Prīmulī made magic
inaccessible to humans by modifying our frequency receptors or
something like that, so we would accomplish and progress through
our own devices."

"Oh, right. Ok, but then you'll be able to
make a connection between those new comms and our communications
here?"

"Yeah, but that goes through the Hub,
basically."

"You know, I've been there a few times, and
it seems like an old office. What is it, really?"

"Ever seen an ancient, spoked bicycle
wheel?"

"Yes," replied the former rear admiral.

"You have a hub in the middle, and spokes
going out to the rim. Ancient stuff."

"Right…"

"
The
Hub
is like the hub in a bike wheel. It is the center
outside of the realm of space/time. Remember that overall, time
isn't linear - all things happen concurrently, but each timeline in
its own linear fashion. Like a bicycle wheel spoke - sort
of."

"So, it's connected, but it's not? Kinda
sorta?"

Yeah, basically, I'm unsure of the cosmic
significance of the whole thing, but I guess in a few millennia
I'll learn," Max laughed.

"Ok, so you can make voice comms for our
agents. Is there any chance of making them telepathic? Audio
surveillance on Azul is hyper-sensitive."

"I don't know. I'll have to ask Draagh about
that. I mean, I don't see how there would be any harm, as they
would never be able to harness the technology involved, as there is
none really - functionality is on a subatomic scale, and we could
probably key comm access to the user's DNA, so no one else could
use it."

"But when you start amassing dozens, and then
hundreds of users it gets dicey, eh?" asked Bagatelle.

"Not really. The Prīmulī have been monitoring
mankind since the birth of humanity. You and I were both watched
all our lives, our genetics hidden from the eyes of our doctors and
scientists. In reality we aren't that plentiful, just a very small
percentage."

"Like, what kind of a percentage, Max?"

"I think it's like one percent - something
like that - and point five percent for the vamps. Even less for
mage-potential individuals."

"You mean people with recessive mage
genes."

"Yup. Let's talk with the old guy and see
what we can do."

The two brothers-in-law walked over to
Draagh's office and sauntered in. He was humming an odd,
alien-sounding tune and wearing his bubblehead invention, which
made his voice sound tinny.

"Heya , pops. Um, what are you singing?"

"Oh, hello my boys. It just happens to be a
very old song from another galaxy."

"What galaxy would that be, sir?" asked
Bagatelle.

"Hmm, let me see - the name escapes me.
I believe you call it NGC 1300. We called it
that pretty blue spiral of stars
."

"That… pretty blue spiral of stars? That's
it?" said Max.

"Yes, my dear boy, why? Does that sound so
unusual?"

"Actually it sounds
pretty
dumb, but anyway, we're not here for
that. I have a question."

Draagh removed his bubblehead with a pop, his
face again looking normal, with the exception that he was wearing a
wide, goofy grin, most probably caused by the effect of his beloved
herb.

"We want to know if we can make comms for our
agents on the four worlds."

"Yes, of course, my boy."

"Can we tie them to each individual's DNA so
we can trace them and make sure no one is a traitor?"

"Yes, absolutely."

"Ok, sounds good. Final question. Can we make
them mental, not audible?"

"Only for those with active lycan or mage
genes, but not normals nor the inactivated."

"But, why not?"

"My boy, it is not the device. The device we
can provide. Rather, it is the individual. Unless they have the
ability to touch nature, as we say, they cannot actively use mind
comms. I am sorry."

"So, if they were enhanced they could? Just
like Alicia?"

"Precisely. If they were lycan, or a
mage they could. These things are just not available to normals.
That is why they are called
normal
, my boy."

"Ok, then we just need to start turning our
allies to lycans!" exclaimed Bagatelle.

"Oh my goodness, no, Luigi. No, no, no. Can
you imagine the full moon? Your entire rebellion would have to be
locked away for the evening. The Battle of the Blood was a prime
example of what can go wrong during a full moon. Only the
resourcefulness of Max, your sister and little Liliana truly saved
the kingdom."

"Ok, next best thing. They only need to
whisper, and we install the speaker in their head via magical
surgery," said Max.

"Magical surgery?" asked Bagatelle, never
having heard the term before.

"Luigi, that is simply inserting, through
magic, something untraceable in someone's head. And yes, Max. That
is an excellent idea. We can create tiny, organic speaker
interfaces that tie directly into the cochlea of the human ear,
enabling direct transmission of sound. And even though humans have
no access to ambient magic particles, the devices shall be attuned
to avail themselves of said particles, thereby negating the
necessity of having to use electromagnetic signals, i.e., radio
waves, to send these transmissions. They shall all be done by
trans-dimensional information transferal. If anyone were to have a
deep scan medical exam, the device would be viewed as a simple
speck of bone, too tiny to even be concerned with."

Bagatelle sort of stared at Draagh, trying to
soak it all in, when Max suddenly burst out, "Ok, so they'll have
to talk, but they can hear and Johnson can't listen in. Right?"

"Precisely, my dear boy. Very good, yes, very
good."

"I'm cool with that," responded Bagatelle,
barely getting the concept, but fully trusting his colleagues.

"Oh, I have another idea! Tell me if this one
will work!" Max said excitedly.

"Go on…"

"What if we dump the transmitters and build
the components into a nerve cluster that we install in the earlobe.
When one wants to talk they act like they're picking their ear or
something, while actually they're just pushing their earlobe?"

"I've got a better one," said Bagatelle,
causing Max to quickly look at him with an odd expression. "How
about, if you can do that, why not put the nerve cluster on the
intermediate phalange of the right-index finger. Then you push on
the phalange, like so." Bagatelle demonstrated by touching his
thumb to the inside middle of the first finger on his right hand,
"and that would activate sound transmission. Much less conspicuous,
as most spies have something stuck in their ear anyway."

Max stared at Bagatelle for a second, and the
former rear admiral momentarily thought that the young commander
would be upset, but he instead grew a huge smile and said, "My god,
G! That is fantastic approach! That's why you're an Admiral!"

Bagatelle grinned, quite satisfied with
himself, and was thankful that he had finally contributed a
great idea
to their efforts,
especially as he was completely outclassed by gods and
mages.

"No, Max. I'm actually an admiral because
I've been in the navy forever, but thanks anyway."

"Then it shall be done! Luigi wins!"
exclaimed Draagh.

"What did I win?"

"In-N-Out Burger," said Max.

"What's that?"

"My goodness, have you never sampled the most
delicious hamburgers of In-N-Out?"

"Pops, no way he could have. He doesn't have
access to time travel now, does he?"

"Oh my, you are right. We should fix
that right away. First, we must change our clothing. Max, notify
Jennie that we are going off-world for a couple of hours, and I
shall make some clothing for good Luigi. We are bringing dinner
home. It is called
take
out.
"

Max went to the basement training room where
Jennie was working with Clarisa and Janice, teaching them how to
transform to battle mode and read their meters. The three seemed to
be engaged in light conversation, and suddenly stopped when they
saw Max. It wasn't because they were hiding what they were saying,
it was simply that the two newcomers were in phase 2 and were
embarrassed of their appearance.

"Hiya girls!" Max said cheerfully. "How are
lessons coming along?"

"Hey,
amorcito
. They are doing very well, of
course!"

The two ladies nodded their heads, but kept
their mouths closed, not wanting Max to see their oversized
canines. Sensing their distress, he attempted to calm their
nerves.

"Mom, Janice. Look, it's no big deal. I'm
even weirder looking. Watch!

Max self-executed his transition to assassin
form, his new phase 2.5, which up to that point, only Bagatelle had
also successfully achieved. Jenny was capable, but hadn't yet
tried. The two ladies saw Max quickly transform to something much
more sinister-looking than mere battle form - more like a werewolf,
but with a relatively human-shaped body. It was painful, but Max
hid his agony well - for his mother's sake.

The ladies finally opened their mouths - out
of astonishment. Max attempted a smile, which ended up being more
like a dog panting with its tongue hanging out, but he got the
desired response. The ladies burst out in laughter while Jennie
rolled her eyes and mock-groaned. Then, wanting to put the ladies
more at ease, she walked up to Max and started scratching him
behind his ears. He leaned forward, enjoying the attention, and
even started lightly kicking one of his legs for comical
effect.

Once Max had finished and morphed back
to his day form, he kissed his wife and promised to be back
shortly. Then quickly slipping to his chambers, he brought up his
infopanel and did a quick search on fashion in the early
21
^st
century. He searched
through various styles and found he liked the western look best.
Conjuring a straw-colored cowboy hat, black t-shirt, denim jeans
and black cowboy boots, he was about to slip out when he looked at
his bed. On the nightstand there was a photo of he and his wife and
daughter, all dressed in white, on the edge of a beautiful lake.
The image was magical in nature, and the water rippled gently
behind them as if there was an invisible wind that also moved their
hair ever so slightly. He tenderly touched the photo and then
snapped his fingers, making a beautiful red rose appear on Jennie's
pillow.

Draagh had also conjured clothing for he and
Bagatelle, and they were both waiting for Max to appear. However,
when he did the two simply stared at him - and Max stared back.
While Max was dressed as a cowboy, Draagh was wearing a purple
leisure suit, sporting flared pant legs (with stitched-on flames),
and was wearing a large purple hat with an ostrich plume sticking
out of the band. Bagatelle was wearing a leather jacket with
anarchy patches stitched all over. He was also wearing denim jeans,
but they were torn up. To top it off, his hair was fashioned in a
Mohawk and he was wearing heavy eyeliner. He also apparently felt
very stupid, as could be ascertained by his remorseful look.

"What the… guys! What the hell is
this?" Max bellowed. "Didn't you even look up early
21
^st
century fashion? Draagh,
you're stuck in the 1970's and look like an inner-city pimp, and
you, cuñado, you look like an anarchist punker. Guys, here, please
change into something more appropriate."

The two started looking at imagery in Max's
infopanel, and were about to change into something similar to Max
when Liliana walked in, apparently wanting to ask her
great-grandfather a question.

She stopped in her tracks - dead silent.
Looking at her uncle and her great-grandfather, she raised a single
eyebrow slightly. Sighing, she turned around and left without a
word.

"Well, at least she didn't say anything,"
quipped Bagatelle.

"Oh she will. Trust me, she will," Max
retorted.

###

The three men, two from a distant
planet, and one an immortal mage, appeared next to a pair of
dumpsters behind a Wal-Mart Super Store just before sundown.
Keeping a camouflage invisibility shield around them, Draagh
brought up an infoscreen and looked up the current date. It was
Saturday, October 31
^st
, 2020.
Their location was Foothill Ranch, California, in the former United
States of America. Foothill Ranch was a typical, affluent South
Orange County community, full of single-family homes, and featured
access to numerous hiking and bicycle trails, as it was tucked in
at the westerly base of Santiago Peak. The town was also a
manufacturing location of the largest eyewear company in the world
- Oakley (actually owned by Luxottica, a company that would be part
of the migration to Azul many decades later). But the best thing
(to some) in FR was the amazing burger restaurant on the corner of
Towne Centre Drive and Alton Parkway.