THE VROL TRILOGY Page 9

  Bagatelle called Lt. Escalante on private comm channels and ordered her to prepare to leave for the planet on his private transport, Retriever. He tried to think why he was bringing her, but for some reason he couldn't pinpoint it. He just felt it was the right thing to do.

  He exited his cabin with a gear bag in hand and made for the executive flight deck (which wasn't affected during the cruel sabotage committed earlier).

  When he arrived Jennie was waiting for him with her own gear bag in hand. She had changed into her khaki field uniform and black, heavy-duty boots. He walked up to her and opened his bag, pulling out a Stinger in a holster and handing it to her.

  "Here, you might need this down there."

  She took the weapon and wrapped the holster belt around her slender waist, while wearing a smoky-eyed look of confidence. They entered the craft and the doors slowly shut behind them. Then, entering the cockpit, he deferred the captain's chair to her.

  "Jennie, take us out. Here are the coordinates. Once we leave the ship we maintain radio silence unless absolutely necessary," he said as he handed her a note with some numbers scribbled onto it.

  "Yes, sir!" she responded, and expertly lifted the craft off the deck and floated it toward the airlock field.

  Once Retriever was outside the airlock, it made a straight line for the equator. South America was on the other side of the planet; The Revolution being on the dark side, and it was daytime in the western hemisphere. Jennie brought the craft into a smooth orbit going clockwise, 300 km above the planet's surface, curving around to meet up with the predefined destination in the coordinates that Bagatelle had given her.

  As they flew along, the commander sat in his chair, going over data on his portable console, which he used to communicate directly with Lt. Commander Vasquez, bypassing radio channels and maintaining radio silence. Fleet fighters had not yet ascertained Johnson's location, but kept to their sweep patterns, which they hoped would eventually bear fruit. Bagatelle at first only wanted to track down Gunnarsson and nothing more, believing him to be the biggest traitor in the history of Azul, but as time passed he started second-guessing himself.

  Why would this young man do what he did? What did he have to gain? Was he working in conjunction with Councilman Johnson, or even some other nefarious organization, of which he, Bagatelle, had no knowledge? Or was he simply an idealist, eager to prove his theories and see them put into action? He pushed that all aside when Jennie interrupted his thoughts.

  "Sir, we approach the Peruvian coastline. As ordered we are staying under 1000 meters altitude and cruising in at Mach 3."

  Bagatelle simply nodded and went back to his portable console, completely confident in his junior officer's skills in the captain's chair.

  Minutes later, he looked out and saw endless square kilometers of lush rainforests down below. It really was a beautiful sight; the incredible green foliage covering everything in all directions. He felt the craft begin to slow and bank out to port, indicating that Jennie was bringing it in for a landing. She had identified a clearing to the side of the ruins of Machu Picchu where they could safely touch down.

  Extending landing gear, she set the craft on a flat plain, as close as she could to what had once been a switchback road, leading up to the excavation site from the river below, which now was almost completely hidden with vegetation. They popped out of their seats, with Jennie deferring to the commander for first exit of the craft, and both stepped out onto the lush grass and smelled the air.

  It smells different than Azul, she thought. Similar yet different.

  Bagatelle looked at her and said, "Lieutenant, be at your ready at all times. We have no idea what is out here. Worse yet, Gunnarsson could be waiting to ambush us."

  Jennie nodded in the affirmative and set out with her commander. She wanted to show him that she was capable of doings things right, as she still felt guilty about Johnson's devastating escape. This time she wouldn't fail him - or her planet.

  Hundreds of meters below, hidden near the edge of the powerful Urubamba River, Max was shaking Draagh, trying desperately to wake him up.

  "Draagh! Hey Draaaaagh!" he half-yelled, half-whispered. "Someone's here. They landed up in the ruins... Draagh!"

  The old man murmured and rubbed his eyes, then looked around as if in a slight stupor. He picked up his pipe, which had fallen on the loading ramp, and tapped out the contents, then replaced it in a pocket in his leather jacket. Max looked at him with a panicked expression, and Draagh could tell that the young man was about to go into anxiety mode.

  "Max, my boy. Calm yourself. Nothing bad will befall us. Please, just have a seat."

  Max took some slow, deep breaths, as was his practice whenever he got worked up, and took a seat on the cold, hard metal of the loading ramp. He sat, trying to relax for a few minutes before saying, "Draagh, didn't you say that you could hide us, that no one could see us, only smell us, or something like that? Are we invisible yet?"

  Draagh gave Max a beaming grin. "Oh, they can see us, alright. Yes they can. Yes. The question is, will they come here to greet us? This is quite a large area, and it appears that they are on foot, but as we left the fire going, they should be able to locate us."

  Max almost fell into a manic state, and was, of course, completely helpless. He couldn't take off in his ship - he would be blown out of the sky. All he could do was wait and trust Draagh - with his life.

  It was only minutes after Draagh made that statement that two military officers were standing at the entrance of the natural canopy tunnel that housed the Machu Picchu. Max saw a fit, clean-shaven older man of dego extraction in a khaki admiral's field uniform, with his head held up high, and a smaller, but extremely attractive dega female at his side, who was also holding a Stinger, and it was pointed directly at them.

  "Draagh. I think they can see us. Yeah, I'm pretty sure. Ooooh boy. We're so screwed"

  Chapter 8 - Busted, with Benefits

  "Maximilianus Xavier Gunnarsson, you are under arrest for the theft of Federation technology, and for traveling outside of Azul System without proper permits and licensing. Come with us peacefully or I will execute you where you stand."

  The young woman spoke with a voice of authority, without any hint of trepidation whatsoever. She pointed her weapon at his face and looked like she wanted to pull the trigger, but Max could only stare at her; she was so stunning.

  He had only gone on a few dates in his life, and none of them ever looked like this. Although intelligent and well spoken, he generally turned into a bowl of mush around attractive females. He instantly regretted never having served on a ship, as scientific women never possessed this level of beauty. They were more…. plain.

  Draagh looked up and slowly arose from his seated position on the loading ramp.

  "My friends - please. There is no need for any weaponry. Come in, come in," as he beckoned them by making inward sweeping motion with his arm and half bowing at the same time.

  The girl didn't budge and the man with her remained stoic and silent.

  "We are not here to go in anywhere. Gunnarsson, surrender or you will be shot where you stand. Or, if you like, I can start with you, Earther," she growled as she glared at Draagh.

  She trained her weapon on the old man's chest, but he started slowly moving toward her - his opened, mid-length jacket flowing behind, while Max stayed frozen on the loading ramp, unable to move. In fact, he tried to move, but he was somehow paralyzed. Draagh kept walking over to the two newcomers, when Max heard the woman calmly speak.

  "I warned you. Now you die."

  Roughly 100 charges rang out from the Stinger, hitting Draagh right in the chest. Max closed his eyes, not wanting to watch the massacre, and would have plugged his ears with his fingers, but was still unable to move his body.

  Ok, now I'm done for. If I just sit here maybe they won't kill me. But he looked up, and surprisingly enough, Draagh continued walking toward to the other two. The woman fired off another volley with
the same results, causing the man at her side to reach over, put his hand on her forearm and gently bring it down, causing her to lower the firearm in the process. Draagh wasn't affected in any way; even his clothing was unharmed.

  Both looked shocked, but not terrified. They were much too well-trained for that - but they were alarmed for certain.

  Draagh approached them within two meters and pulled out his pipe, this time without lighting it, and said, "My name is Draagh. Young Max here is my friend. How may we be of assistance?"

  "We are here for the fugitive traitor Gunnarsson," the woman began, as Draagh waved her off, somehow rendering her speechless.

  "Yes, yes, I know. We all know - the terribly dangerous fugitive, Maximilianus Gunnarsson! Look at him! Does he look menacing to you? There he sits, practically petrified! My good lady, he is no threat to anyone. No, no threat at all."

  His voice lulled off as he turned to the gentleman at the woman's side, and asking, "And you good sir, who might you be?"

  "I am Rear Admiral Luigi Bagatelle, here with my junior officer, Lt. Jennifer Escalante," he boomed. "Our mission is to apprehend Doctor Gunnarsson, who has stolen and used Federation military technology, endangering our world and all of Mankind."

  Draagh gave them a whimsical glance, and then turned back to Max while grinning.

  "Doctor? My boy, I knew of your education, but they call you doctor? You look barely old enough to shave!"

  It was partially true, as Max only had a very light beard, but he did need to shave - once a week. With that, Draagh started laughing jovially. Of course he was playing the visitors, but he felt he needed to calm their senses before he could deal with them in a rational fashion.

  "Come, my friends, please come in. Let us sit by the campfire and discuss our quandary."

  Draagh turned around and walked to where the campfire smoldered and snapped his fingers in the direction of the fire pit, instantly reenergizing the smoldering embers. Sitting down on the fallen log where he had been earlier, he looked back toward the ship and beckoned a frozen Max to join him. Bagatelle and Escalante simply stared in annoyed amazement for a minute or so, and then slowly walked over, taking seats on the log furthest from Draagh. Again able to feel his body, Max cautiously crept over and sat next to the old man, almost hiding behind him for protection.

  "So my friends, here we are. Yes, we are most certainly here, wouldn't you say? Now, why don't we have a little chat about our present situation?" He looked them over thoughtfully, and when they didn't say anything he continued speaking.

  "It seems to me that we have some sort of misunderstanding. Max here had no intention of hurting anyone, and I am most certain he did not hurt anyone in his quest to come to this forsaken planet." He looked over and back at Max, who was still cowering by his side.

  "Max, you did not hurt anyone, did you?"

  Max cleared his throat. "Um…n-n-no, I didn't. No one at all."

  "Very well then," Draagh replied rather quickly, "let's start out fresh. I am called Draagh. My actual title is much, much longer, but I prefer a nice, monosyllabic moniker. It helps me to make friends in an easier fashion. This is Max, who you know, of course, and you said your names were Luigi and …Jennifer?"

  Both nodded and kept staring at the strange old man.

  "Hmmmm, and you are both from Azul?"

  Again, both nodded… and continued staring.

  "Excellent! You see? We have a lot in common. We all have names and noses. So let me tell you a bit about myself. I am not an Earther, as you called me, young lady. In fact, I come from a distant place, and I arrived here to meet up with Max, who, by the way, has a very important job to complete and cooks an excellent-"

  "Wait!" yelled Bagatelle, interrupting Draagh and nearly causing everyone else to jump. "Are you here for the hook drive? Because if you are, I warn you that-"

  Draagh made a small waving gesture with his hand, and Bagatelle's speech stopped instantly. The rear admiral put his hand to his mouth, touching his lips, as if they had gone numb.

  "No, no, no, my dear sir - quite the contrary - we do not plan on taking this ship anywhere, nor do we plan on relinquishing it to anyone. We need to move on to our destination, which is quite far away from here. Yes, quite far, indeed," he said, while displaying a mischievous grin.

  Suddenly, before anyone said anything further, Lt. Escalante rolled back over her log and trained her Stinger on Max, firing off multiple rounds directly at his face. However, and not so surprisingly, not one reached the man. They stopped, collecting a meter in front of their target, suspended in midair. Max slumped his shoulders, having what one could only describe as a face of resignation and immense sadness, knowing that the beautiful military woman sought to kill him without even the courtesy of a trial.

  Both Draagh and Bagatelle stood up, but the old man yelled, quite upset, while Bagatelle had been rendered mute for the time being.

  "Enough! That will be enough, young lady! We do not kill anyone here. Ever! Do you understand me?"

  The old man stared the woman down, and somehow had not only paralyzed her, but had her body pinned against the log, looking most uncomfortable. She stared at Draagh with a terrified expression; his gaze was so frightening it could have penetrated quadrinium. Looking at the suspended charge rounds, he lashed out with a sweeping backhand, causing them to scatter through the air and land harmlessly in the bushes.

  "Max, are you okay, my boy?" he asked the young scientist.

  "Yes. I… am. Thanks." Max glared at Jennie with a look of disdain.

  What a bitch.

  Draagh then did something that startled and amazed everyone, Max not so much, but it was still an impressive feat.

  "Young lady, may I see your weapon?"

  "Over my dead bod…"

  Before she could finish her bravado-laden sentence Draagh was holding her Stinger in his hand, calmly analyzing it, after which he placed it on the ground by his feet. It had disappeared from her hand and appeared in Draagh's - no one understood why or how. It wasn't like she could have done anything about it in the first place, being pinned near-sideways up against a log. Bagatelle sat back down, still unable to speak, but it did seem that he was going to reprimand his junior officer for attempting to kill their prisoner - who really wasn't their prisoner for the time being.

  With his demeanor changing to one of calm, just as quickly as it had converted to rage from Jennie's attempted assassination of Max, Draagh looked down and saw the bottle of Glenfiddich whisky near his feet. Smiling, he then decided he would offer everyone a drink. Releasing the young woman from her invisible restraints she quickly sat back on the log, eyes wide open, with a newfound, fear-based respect for the old man.

  "Ah, this is just what we need! A toast between new friends," and picked up the bottle. He then waved his free hand around and somehow conjured up four small glasses, promptly pouring a bit of scotch into each one. First he handed a glass to Max, and then reached over to hand two glasses to Bagatelle and Escalante, who at first declined to even move, but eventually reached out and took the glasses. Draagh watched patiently as they simply held them and stared back at him.

  "A toast - to friends!" Draagh put down his shot in one swig and set the glass on the log next to him, following his drink with a refreshing "ahhhhh."

  Then, with an almost disappointed look he said, "Oh come now, my friends! We must not be rude. After all, Max procured this fine single malt here on Earth, and I can tell you most assuredly that it is perfectly fine. It was not contaminated in the infection, as it was bottled long before the invasion happened."

  Looking up from his small glass of scotch, Bagatelle stared Draagh down directly, and feeling he could speak again said, "Ok Mr. Draagh…"

  "No! Please, please - simply Draagh is fine. I am not one who clings to titles, even though I have many."

  "Bagatelle continued, "Ok… Draagh. Who are you, where do you come from and what have you been doing with my prisoner?"

  Draagh
gave Bagatelle a feigned look of being taken aback.

  "My dear sir, I can certainly tell you that young Max here is not a prisoner - not yours nor anyone else's. Why, he is just sitting here next to me, safe and sound, despite the efforts of your lovely compatriot. Yes, quite safe and sound - but to answer your questions, I am an observer, and sometimes a corrector. I travel vast distances, observing, and sometimes even righting wrongs - and writing occasional songs. Perhaps I shall sing one for you. So, would you not say that is an admirable thing?"

  Bagatelle looked the odd, old man over and said, "Well, it's obvious I'm not going to get a lot out of you, but being as you took over 200 rounds in the chest at point blank range, and by all rights should not only be dead, but resemble something more like jraxon burger, I'll ask Gunnarsson." He then stared Max down with a glare that would frighten any rational military officer.

  "Boy, what the hell have you done? You invented this technology, but that didn't give you the right to take off with it. We have to follow orders. There are protocols, and Azul has been successful for all these years due to the fact that we follow these rules - without exception. So explain yourself, son, or should I say…. Commander."

  Escalante immediately looked at her commanding officer, an expression of total surprise painted on her face.

  "Sir, he is… a commander?"