Authors: SK Benton
Tags: #vampire, #magic, #violence, #lycan, #immortality, #alien invaders, #werewolf adult fantasy
THE VROL TRILOGY (122 page)
Chapter 40 - Undesired Changes
Chapter 1 - Tangled
"
Sir, we'll
reach our destination in seven hours,"
howled a
metallic voice over the ship's comm.
Chairman Len Johnson, despot of Azul System,
groggily lifted his head from his pillow; his pale, angular face
carrying a look of annoyance, framed by thin, shock-white hair.
His latest attempt at sleep had only lasted a
few hours, but during that time he experienced a horrific
nightmare. Somehow, his subconscious was telling him what his
conscious mind had been rejecting for over a year - that his son
was dead. This particular dream had Max Gunnarsson stabbing the
young man in the back with a large blade; not even close to the
truth. But like all dreams, this one quickly faded away into
darkness as he sat up on the edge of his bed. Waving the captain
off, the officer shut the cabin door, enabling Johnson to dress and
prepare for the final few hours he had before confronting an
unknown species - the Vrol - in an attempt to delay their arrival
to his home world, Azul.
Johnson couldn't really be blamed for the
arrival of the Vrol, as the species had centuries-prior acquired
coordinates to his home world from an errant Exodus barge. However,
he was more than complicit in allowing them to approach Azul
without any form of resistance. That fact alone made him a traitor
to the human race, even though he could have cared less.
He simply saw himself as the leader of a
renewed Earth – the home world of his ancestors, where his
progenitors had been virtually wiped out by these same aliens he
was en route to approach.
Johnson was an intelligent man - to a certain
extent. Like most politicians, he made himself successful by force
of will and a blatant use of leverage whenever necessary. Also,
like many politicians, he carried the recessive vampire gene. This
alone gave him the borderline sociopathic tendencies that
facilitated his rise to power. Of course he was not without
feelings. He felt love for his son - the son he had sent off to
Earth. The son he had commanded to sabotage the mission to capture
Max Gunnarsson and his side space hook drive machinery. This
sabotage resulted in the deaths of dozens of pilots and techs, but
Johnson gave them nary a thought. Part of the sociopathic mindset
was an amazing ability to pick and choose that for which to be
remorseful - he missed his son, but actually delighted in the
unnecessary deaths of the poor, unfortunate innocents.
Putting on his day garments, he departed from
his cabin and purposefully entered into the small bridge area of
his ship. It was obvious that his crew feared him, as he had the
ability to snuff out a human life with something as simple as a
call to an aide. He had done it before, and there was no indication
that he was about to put a stop to that sort of behavior.
"How long until we are in range of the
fleet?"
Johnson didn't ask questions; he demanded
answers.
"Four hours, sir," responded the junior
officer seated at the main navigational panel.
"Very well. Inform me before we are to drop
out of side space and start scanning. I am thinking it may be a
better idea to come in behind them and catch up."
"Sir," the captain interjected, "while we
have a basic idea on their estimated time of arrival at Azul
System, we are unaware of their actual propulsion technology and
capabilities. However, it is a very logical approach you suggest.
If they outpace our fusion-ion drives we can simply rift into side
space again and go up ahead of them."
Johnson glared at the ship's captain, causing
the military officer to experience some level of discomfort. "I did
not suggest anything, Captain. I was telling you what to do… in a
nice manner."
The captain nodded his head and moved to the
pilot, assisting with navigational computer data input, while
attempting to terminate his conversation with the planetary
dictator.
He's a maniac. I'll be amazed if we get out
of this alive.
Johnson sat by himself in the galley, eating
some roasted jraxon and asparagus, and enjoying a glass of red
wine. None of the crew dared interrupt him, as he appeared to be
preoccupied with his personal console. In fact, they didn't even
know why they were approaching the alien fleet. Worse yet, they
believed they were meeting with the Artusians, a race of angelic
visitors, their identities completely concocted by Johnson in order
to mask the arrival of the most dangerous, vicious and ruthless
species in the Milky Way Galaxy. He had struck a cold bargain with
the insectoid race, giving them Azul in exchange for no further
attacks on Earth.
He believed it was he who was using the Vrol,
and not the other way around.
As Johnson sat alone with his meal and
personal console, Jennard Robinson, the ship's captain, had a
hushed conversation with his second in command, Lieutenant Miguel
Hernandez.
"Miggy, tell me - honestly. How do you
feel about this mission? This is between us, and not for
his
ears," he murmured to his junior
officer.
"Sir, I'm personally excited to meet the
Artusians, but something doesn't smell right. There's way too much
secrecy. But then again, Chairman Johnson has his reasons for the
things he does, right?"
Robinson merely looked at his subordinate and
nodded, feeling completely lost. He was in charge of his ship, but
he wasn't in control. So, if something went wrong he would receive
the blame, but if something turned out amazing it was of course
Chairman Johnson who would be displayed on all media sources
system-wide. The captain wasn't against someone getting credit for
making amazing discoveries, as being in the military was pretty
much a thankless job, but he wasn't crazy about narcissistic
politicians using him - and at that moment he was feeling pretty
used.
"We would like to believe that, son. Anyway,
let's track properly and not drop out of side space too soon."
Neither of the two military officers, both
genetic normals, had any idea that Johnson was preparing a fleet to
return to Old Earth. Their mission was to get Johnson to the
Artusian Fleet. The majority of people invited by Johnson to return
to Old Earth were either carrying the recessive vampire gene (and
were naturally attracted to each other), or were extremely
subservient normals who would pose no threat to Johnson's power
structure. After all, he would need reliable, obedient slave labor
when they arrived.
At the culmination of four hours the crew
started preparations to drop out of side space, well behind the
alien fleet. Not knowing what to expect, they were all relatively
excited to see these supposed angelic, superior beings who were on
their way to help usher Azul System to a new level of
consciousness. No one ever took into account that the arriving
visitors were flying at velocities significantly slower than light
speed.
Taking no chances, Robinson programmed the
ship to drop into regular space behind the fleet when they were 2.3
million miles away. A short while later, Johnson arrived from the
galley, wearing a concerned expression.
"Are you doing as requested, and coming in
behind the fleet?" he asked while carrying an ominous tone to his
voice.
"That is correct, sir. We shall exit side
space behind what would appear to be their capitol ship. I believe
we should have plenty of room for maneuvering when we're there,
which should happen in… ten, nine, eight, seven …"
He didn't need to keep counting, as everyone
watched the command panel and listened as the hook drive retracted,
effectively moving them from side space to the normal universe.
Opening the main display view screen, which
had been shut during their trip, no one expected to see anything
but black space and distant stars. Instead, they found themselves
in the middle of what appeared to be a vagabond fleet of tens of
thousands of various craft, nearly every one being unique in
configuration, and most not even resembling any known form of
transport. Robinson acted quickly, taking the pilot's place and
igniting the fusion-ion drives. The fleet was going slightly faster
than the human craft's velocity, so he guided the ship to a large,
open area where they wouldn't suffer any damage.
"What is this? It's enormous - the head of
the fleet is nearly a thousand K ahead of us, and there are still
ships trailing. How many ships are there? And what the hell are
they? They're so…dark," muttered Robinson, as he looked over to the
Chairman with a cautious glance and a chill running down his
spine.
"Bring us to the largest craft. That is where
X'than'dor will be. I must awaken him so we may speak."
"Who is this X'than'dor, sir? Is he the
Artusian leader?" asked Lieutenant Hernandez.
"In a manner of speaking, but I find your
questions to be annoying, Lieutenant. Captain, take us to the lead
ship - the largest one. Now. Notify me once you have identified
this vessel."
Hernandez showed Robinson a concerned and
guarded expression as he looked towards the view screen. Robinson
then continued to expertly guide the craft; the ship's fusion-ion
drives easily outpacing the erratically scattered alien ships. As
soon as Johnson was out of earshot, Hernandez leaned down and spoke
into his captain's ear.
"Sir, I don't feel very good about
this. Everything we have been shown has been beautiful lights,
gleaming vessels and angelic aliens. This looks like the complete
opposite. It's a bunch of
mierda
in my opinion."
"I agree, but it's not like we had a lot of
choice in the matter. Johnson gets what he wants. Just keep an eye
out for the largest vessel. When we see it, we notify him and he
can deal with them."
"Aye aye, sir."
Neither of the officers, nor the three
enlisted personnel onboard (who had remained out of sight, in the
engine room and kitchen, during the voyage) could see into
Johnson's quarters, where he was frantically typing into his
personal console, all in a vain attempt to awaken X'than'dor.
Damned alien scum. Why can't they be normal
like us?
Johnson nearly asked his question out loud,
totally frustrated, and seriously wondered why the Vrol weren't
more like humans. What he didn't know, or even realize, was that
they were created to exterminate humans, as well as a variety of
other species, and had as much in common with Mankind as the Ebola
virus had with a bunny rabbit. He was in over his head, but his
sociopathic arrogance overrode all precautionary common sense he
might have otherwise possessed.
Punching commands into his communications
interface - which was the equivalent of pounding on someone's door
to wake them up - he elicited no response from the Vrol. By this
point he figured all he could do would be to attempt to dock with
the lead ship and go from there.
Robinson lithely navigated in between dozens
of craft, some not even resembling space ships, and looking more
like asteroids. He sent out a probe to perform an analysis on one
of the craft, and it had returned about 25% of its data back before
it suddenly blinked off. Sending out another probe in order to find
what happened to the first one he received his answer; a
high-powered energy pulse destroyed the second one. Someone didn't
want to be scanned, so Robinson had to immediately consider himself
in a hostile situation.
Hernandez stared at the view screen with a
look of utter horror on his face. Then, being sent by his captain
to fetch Johnson, the junior officer did something he never
imagined himself doing in his entire life - he went around behind
Johnson's quarters, entering into a small storage space. But this
space had a vent, looking into Johnson's room.
Quietly stepping up onto a box, Hernandez
looked through the vent grate with his magnalens, a magnifying
contact lens, which he nearly always wore, attempting to see what
was on the dictator's personal console. Miguel grew up a
mischievous child, and the military academy was probably the only
thing that kept him from running afoul of the law. He was no
stranger to spying on people - he was caught and thrown out of the
public university where he attended for setting up surveillance
cameras in a women's locker room. However, he was let back in the
following year, mostly due to his outstanding grades and the
sincere letter of apology he submitted via his legal council.
Zooming in carefully, he trained his
view directly onto Johnson's console, noting that the leader was
typing into what appeared to be some sort of custom
chatcom
interface. He saw the latest
of Johnson's text communications on the screen, and what he saw
nearly gave him a heart attack;
Johnson: And you will not
approach Earth?
X'than'dor: We have no
interest in Earth
Johnson: Excellent. I get
Earth, and I will give you Azul
X'than'dor: We shall take
it anyway
Johnson: That is fine. My
agent reached Earth. Planet is intact
X'than'dor: Explain what
means word "fine". It is logic. It is reality. Earth died. We
continue. Azul dies. We continue.
Johnson: Are you there? I
have come to meet with you. Wake up. Which ship are you
in?