THE VROL TRILOGY Read online

  The Chronicles of Max Gunnarsson

  The complete works of

  The Vrol Trilogy

  By S.K. Benton

  Smashwords Edition

  Copyright 2015 © S.K. Benton

  All rights reserved

  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.

  Further, this book is not intended as a substitute for the medical advice of physicians. The reader should regularly consult a physician in matters relating to his/her health and particularly with respect to any symptoms that may require diagnosis or medical attention, and most definitely not try to use magic of any sort because it really does not exist in our world - as far as we know.

  If you are experiencing rotting of the skin and/or body parts, you are certainly not a vampire - it is most probably leprosy or flesh-eating bacteria, so go see a doctor - immediately. Avoid playgrounds and public transportation. Likewise, if you believe that you change into a raging canine under the full moon then we suggest you go see a psychiatrist. Preferably one who prescribes ample quantities of antipsychotic medications.

  If any of these symptoms imaginarily happen to you while you are role-playing at Comic Con® then you should be fine, so have a beer when you are done. You never know, we might join you.

  Book One

  LIVES OF FUTURE-PAST

  Table of Contents for LIVES OF FUTURE-PAST

  LIVES OF LOST ANGELS (Book Two)

  LIVES OF THE PROVECTUS (Book Three)

  Prologue

  Chapter 1 - Jennie and The Hub

  Chapter 2 - Max Gunnarsson

  Chapter 3 - Welcome to Earth

  Chapter 4 - Bagatelle on Watch

  Chapter 5 - Hello, Draagh

  Chapter 6 - Hidden Agenda

  Chapter 7 - Vid Time

  Chapter 8 - Busted, with Benefits

  Chapter 9 - Learning Stuff

  Chapter 10 - Packing

  Chapter 11 - Welcome to Future-Past

  Chapter 12 - Meet Krynos, your King

  Chapter 13 - Training Begins

  Chapter 14 - My HUD

  Chapter 15 - Let's Learn Magic

  Chapter 16 - Recon Time

  Chapter 17 - Fight!

  Chapter 18 - Aftermath

  Chapter 19 - Let's Dance

  Chapter 20 - Bagatelle Betrayed

  Chapter 21 - Jennie Betrayed

  Chapter 22 - Banishment

  Chapter 23 - Wolftime!

  Chapter 24 - Battle of the Blood

  Chapter 25 - Liliana to the Rescue

  Chapter 26 - Regeneration

  Chapter 27 - Celebration

  Epilogue

  STYLESHEET

  Welcome to the complete woks of THE VROL TRILOGY in THE CHRONICLES OF MAX GUNNARSSON. For the reader's convenience, a style sheet for this series is provided.

  Private thoughts

  There are many instances where a character is thinking to him or herself, and no one else. This is denoted in italics, without the use of quotation marks:

  Wow, he's sooo hot

  Electronic and telepathic communications

  There is an ample amount of non-verbal or non face-to-face communications going on in the book, either by genetically facilitated telepathy, or by use of what is called a "comm" – short for communications device. Sometimes the communication is over a broadcast channel, where all with comms hear, but many other times it is between two individuals, as users can select private channels. Many (but not all) of these "comms" are magic-enabled devices, and only function telepathically for those of the enhanced genome, as well as for the Prīmulī in the story. The type of device used is usually described.

  These communications are in italics, as well as quotation marks:

  "Max, I need you in my office now."

  "On my way, G."

  Also, at times "comm" will be used as a verb

  "Jen, meet me in our quarters," commed Max.

  The reader will also encounter occasions where the italicized part of a two-way conversation is merely the voice of the unseen subject of what amounts to a telephone call, with the visible, audible subject's voicing non-italicized.

  "Maria. Please, do not be alarmed. I have accessed your communications device in order to speak with you. I am a friend."

  "Who is this?" she whispered, alarmed.

  Foreign Languages

  Another writing style is to show that a foreign language is being spoken. This is done with brackets. In most cases the foreign language is also displayed, followed by the English translation in brackets:

  "Bewegen Sie sich nicht, wenn Sie leben wollen [Do not move if you wish to live]."

  However, if the foreign language uses anything but Latin script (such as Greek, Cyrillic or Japanese), then only the translation is displayed, encapsulated in brackets.

  "[Welcome to Tokyo, honored ones. I am to assume you are of the Lycan bloodline]."

  Personal Console Readouts

  Not common in the series, but shown on occasion, the text on a personal console, when displayed, will be in a narrow, more dramatic serif font, in italics, but without quotation marks.

  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

  Paragraph breaks

  Triple pound signs ( ### ) are used in paragraph breaks to denote a substantial change in scenery or location. There will also be times where a location/year will appear instead of the pound signs.

  Knowing this, I hope you enjoy the complete VROL TRILOGY.

  SK

  Prologue

  The planet known as Earth provides a rich history, dissimilar from the billions upon billions of inhabited worlds in the visible universe. While most cultures were quickly discovered and nurtured throughout their difficult beginnings by their older intergalactic brothers, Earth stood alone, on the edge of Orion, a minor spiral arm of the Milky Way Galaxy, watched by those of immense power who nearly always chose a path of non-interference. These beings would analyze all from their timeless dimension, known as The Hub, from which all time/space emanated. They were patient, as they held the secrets of the universe in their hands and had all eternity in which to wait.

  Man's beginnings were precarious, to say the least, and with great anticipation his supervisors analyzed his initial struggle for survival against extinction. From his first steps of self-awareness, to kingdoms that spanned entire continents, he constantly fought and battled to advance his own cause. He was truly a marvelous creation and had pleased his invisible mentors immensely. And although they chose to stay out of sight and mind, leaving man to his own devices, they did tinker a bit, providing some bloodlines with enhanced genetics to see how he would fare.

  Certain few men of character learned to harness the energies that flowed within every living thing on their world - energies that allowed them to care, heal and build. These men stood above and apart, and although small in numbers, they spread out over the planet to become consultants to leaders great and strong, offering advice, and sometimes even prodding their lieges in the proper direction when darkness showed its evil countenance.

  There were also others who had superior abilities, thanks to the watchers' thoughtful manipulations - the noble lycans, created to be the soldiers of merit and honor, faithfully defended Man's free spirit and his ability to mold the world into one of greatness - so he might one day take his rightful place among the myriad of ascended species in the universe.
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  However, for every yin there is a yang, and there were also those who craved the darkness, only kept in check by the lycans, who contrasted them in nearly every manner. Through natural selection, these lovers of death evolved to subsist on the life waters of the innocent and to prey on the weak. Such had become their way.

  Over time these malcontents grew in strength and numbers, and they disrupted the delicate balance of light and dark on a world so young. So, the observers decided to end their test, and determined that Man should not be able to touch nature in such an intimate manner. They stripped Man of all of his abilities - which faded into rumor, then legend, and then were almost completely forgotten.

  Man then did something that surprised his watchers - he improvised. With his own mind and hands he started to grasp upon the powers of the universe through the use of technology. Iron turned to steel. Vacuum tubes turned to printed circuit boards. As each discovery led to the next he continued learning until he found quadrinium, buried deep in the planet, waiting to be forged into usefulness.

  Building strong, spacefaring ships of quadrinium and peering through lenses that enabled him to see distant parts of the galaxy, he set off for the stars, traveling across the spiral arm to build a new world, and seeking to correct the errors he had made during his short time on Earth. But nature is as nature does, and he soon found himself facing evil of another form - and of another part of the Milky Way. His minders, who had sat for so many centuries watching in silence, again found it necessary to re-enable the gifts so quickly taken from him in the past.

  But this time they would do so in small steps, starting with a young man on a distant planet.

  Chapter 1 - Jennie and The Hub

  New Sydney, Oz, Azul System 2819

  A loud alarm clock sounded off at 0500 hours, prompting a delicate, copper-colored hand to reach over and slap the snooze button. Five minutes later the alarm went off again, and the same hand hit the snooze button, this time a bit harder, but Jennie knew it was time to get up - it was ingrained discipline.

  Partially pulling her pillow from over her head with a groan, she slowly opened one of her enormous, cocoa-brown eyes, both of which were still surrounded by generous amounts of smudged eyeliner she had declined to remove the night before. Her going away party was epic, as well as the top-shelf tequila she drank with a guy she liked a lot, so when she got back to her apartment she walked over to her bed and fell into it like a rock.

  As she rubbed the sleep out of her eyes (and smearing her eyeliner even more), she slid out of her bed, tiredly squinting as she picked up and read a semi-transparent paperscreen lying on her bedside table. It was addressed to Lt. Jennifer Escalante. They were the detail on her new orders. As she came out of her sleepy state, her eyes lit up - as much as they could with a mild hangover. The big day arrived - the day of her transfer to the Revolution, the newest, largest starship in her planet's navy. She was going with her highest-ranking commanding officer. Captain Bagatelle had been promoted to the rank of rear admiral, and was taking her with him as he had done on all of his previous transfers since she served under his command, which was basically since she graduated from the military academy.

  Jennie stumbled a couple of meters over to the bathroom mirror, wearing nothing but a pair of pink panties. She sighed as she looked at herself and shook her head; after showering she had to at least fix her hair and makeup before she went to the spaceport. No time to hit the salon. She determined that her nails were fine, even though she never really paid a lot of attention to them.

  Then, standing sideways, she admired her figure up and down, wondering if her breasts would ever start to sag. They were, to be precise, perfect, just as was her bulbous posterior. She was fortunate, as most women who reached her level of beauty did so via gen-mods - genetic modifications. She had no such need, which was usually the case for degas - women of Old-Earth South American lineage. In general, the only degas who went through the gen-mod process were ones ashamed of their heritage, and had their swarthy skin tone lightened and made more like the bachos.

  Jennie was not only proud of her heritage, she flaunted it. Whenever she entered a room men (and many women) stopped what they were doing just to watch her - something of which she would never tire. The woman was beautiful in every sense of the word - lustrous, black hair, not too tall and not too short at 165 cm and 52 kg in weight (5'5" and 120 lbs. in extinct standard measurements), lovely dark eyes, full, pouty lips and just enough muscle tone to make her strong but retain her femininity. The majority of female ground troops in the military would go through gen-mods to make themselves hyper-muscular so they could be on par with male troops, and while there were some guys and gals who liked that kind of look, the majority maintained the ideal that Jennie represented to the extreme.

  Being an officer on a naval vessel she would never see ground combat, so she didn't need to gen-mod for strength. And besides that, she was stronger than anyone even remotely close to her size. She even jumped into the boxing ring with modded female soldiers for a couple of rounds every now and then, almost always winning against the huge, oddly marked women who sported the latest rage in body art - animated tattoos. These designs were driven by what amounted to a sheet of nanobots that functioned like a vid display under the epidermis layer of the skin. This enabled them to perform preprogrammed tasks - everything from a simple animation to playing a video to creating an advertisement for a good or service. Prostitutes, who used them as glow-in-the-dark call-outs for their clients, especially desired these tattoos. However, Jennie had no desire to mark up her body, even on a temporary basis. Her dark, radiant skin was in itself naturally beautiful, and needed no such enhancements.

  Slipping a standard-issue tank top over her head, she let it fall gently into place onto her shoulders. At her age she didn't need to wear a bra, although she did whenever in uniform, per regulations. Even a tank top looked amazing on her, and she would usually wear only that and some skimpy running shorts when going to the gym for a workout - eliciting stares from virtually everyone in her vicinity. She pulled her black, glossy shoulder-length hair back and tied it off in a ponytail. Then, calling out to her personal console, she requested music from a predefined playlist.

  She was a true fan of archaic pop/rock music from the late 20th to mid-21st century, much to the displeasure of anyone within earshot. To her, modern music was too artificial and dull. Ever since entertainment was completely generated by AI it had lost a certain edge. The slight imperfections of ancient music made it perfect in her mind.

  Once the first song was on she started going through her morning dental ritual. Her teeth were pearly white and perfect, and she intended to keep them that way. She had never required dental implants or even corrective braces, and something she remembered her dentist telling her when she was young was to only floss the teeth you want to keep. It was meant to scare her, and it did.

  After she finished flossing and brushing, she danced around her room as the music blared in the background. She sang and envisioned the song's vid that she had seen at least a hundred times. Just a short while later, satisfied that she had crafted her simple, yet effective look, she pulled her military dress whites out of her closet and set them down on her bed. She had already packed her duffel for transit to the Revolution, but as an officer she was always required to show up to a new duty assignment in her ceremonial uniform.

  Before dressing down, Jennie left her room and went straight for the living area, sauntering along to her music, which she had turned down just a tad. Her roommate was already cooking a typical breakfast - jraxon eggs and ham.

  "Morning Becks!"

  Jennie greeted her roommate, Becky Branson, the same way every morning when she wasn't out on deployment. Also military, Becky worked in the scientific division. The woman wasn't stunning like Jennie - she was very plain, as was her boyfriend Josh, who was also a total nerd- a skinny, tech-type with poorly groomed hair and a tendency to snort whenever he laughed. She always th
ought of Josh wearing glasses, which no one wore anymore as no one was born with defective vision thanks to prenatal gen-mods (which were restricted to vision, hearing disfigurement and hereditary diseases). Of course, sunglasses were worn, even though gen-mods could give anyone the ability to tint their vision - but some people still liked to accessorize with facial wear, or didn't have the time or money to go through the enhancement process.

  Jennie didn't mind Josh, or even whenever he stayed over, but she found it annoying when he talked to her because he never looked her in the eyes - he focused on her breasts, which were hard to miss that morning as she bounced around the living room, wearing nothing more than her underwear while enjoying her music.

  Her white tank top contrasted with her copper-colored skin and would catch anyone's eye - involuntarily or otherwise. Now, she wouldn't mind if he were someone like Ryder, the officer she had been dating on and off for the past few weeks, but Josh had a creepy, leering look about him. As was his luck, he was good at hiding his stares from Becky, who loved him very much and would have been devastated if she suspected that he harbored a secret crush on the dega. Jennie knew they fit each other well, and she was sure the two would get married one day - in a geeky wedding, and probably in some sort of costume theme. Jennie wanted to get married one day too, but not to a science geek - she wanted somebody powerful, with connections - like Ryder Johnson, the man with whom she had been sharing copious amounts of tequila the night before.