THE VROL TRILOGY (7 page)

The last thing Lt. Ryder
Johnson did before he finished his duty shift was to send Bagatelle
his requested status report via personal console. He looked forward
to meeting up with Jennie, but had to get ready quickly, as she had
been off-shift for an hour already. Entering his quarters he saw
the bottle of tequila - one of the two he had brought on board,
which
was
against
regulations, but he was glad he did it.

Ha! That Bagatelle is a
real dumbshit. He doesn't have a clue about what goes on around
here. Best admiral in the fleet - my ass,
he thought to himself while smirking at his reflection in the
mirror.

He had been trying to get her into his
quarters since being reassigned to the Revolution. She was the
prize on every ship she had served on, and to date no one had
conquered her, but he was Ryder Johnson and he got whatever he
wanted - whether by their own free will or by force. That's how
powerful his father was. His bottle of tequila was the most
expensive brand on the planet, and he found it helpful to point
these little things out to women - especially degas, as he found
them easy to impress (or so he believed).

After showering and shaving he put on
casual clothes - denims and a blue, collared cotton shirt, all
permissible onboard when one was not on duty. He hoped that Jennie
would do the same, but she was so gung-ho for all he knew she would
show up in her dress whites.

Ryder arranged everything in his room
in case he got lucky, and set off for the mess hall. He thought
about her a lot. He wasn't supposed to, but he did. She was
intelligent, engaging and extremely good-looking.

It's a shame she's
dega.

Entering the mess hall he saw Jennie,
sitting at a table, surrounded by five other junior officers. He
had made sure to let his fellow officers know exactly who he was
when he was reassigned to that ship. His father's name put fear in
people, and Ryder reveled in fear - it gave him a sense of power -
power he would have one day.

"Hey Ryder," the stunning girl called
out to him, "been waiting for a while, so the boys here were just
keeping me company."

Johnson had a sneering smirk that he
hid from Jennie when he arrived at the table, but he made sure the
other men saw it. They quickly excused themselves and went to the
other side of the mess hall.

"Aren't they nice? I love it when my
friends take time to chat."

Ryder looked into her brown doe-like
eyes, and couldn't resist having conflicting thoughts about his
lovely friend.

Holy crap, she is so naïve
and clueless. Excellent qualities in a wife, for
sure…



What Ryder didn't realize, as he always
believed himself to be more intelligent and superior to everyone
else, was that Jennie knew exactly what she was doing. She was
hyper-smart and calculating in her actions. She rested her chin on
her hands, fingers intertwined as she gave him a little
smile.

"So, how was your shift? Anything new
and exciting on the flight deck?"

"Oh, the usual - techs messing up my
equipment. I've gone through three already this
mission."

"Ryder, you need to be patient. They
were trained to do a certain job, and I know you're a top-level
pilot and like your ship tuned a certain way, but please be nice,
sweetie. They're just kids, not even officers."

Ryder simultaneously loved and hated
the fact that Jennie had that effect on him - he momentarily
considered being nice to a lowly tech, until his better
sensibilities came into play - namely, his heritage. He was a
Johnson, and Johnsons did what they wanted - but they were also
manipulative.

"Yeah, you're right, Jennie. Why is it
you always have the best answers?"

"Just my nature, I guess, sweetie. So
whatcha wanna do? We have over fourteen hours till next shift,
which is super-unusual."

Ryder's heart skipped a beat. He had
almost forgotten that the two had been placed on close-overlap duty
schedules, with their on and off times only an hour apart. He had
over half a standard day to get her into his quarters.

"Well, do you want to play billiards? I
was fraternal champion at my university, you know."

Jennie knew this, as Ryder had told her
at least five times in the past, but like any smart girl who wanted
something she simply fed his narcissism.

"Wow, you don't say! Well, I played a
bit, and I'm not very good, but maybe you can teach me a few
tricks, hmm?"

"Sure thing, but first I need some
food. What's on the menu?"

"Garlic mashed potatoes and jraxon -
your favorites," she said as she giggled, knowing he despised both.
She loved garlic and didn't really mind eating the indigenous bird
that resembled a duck, but she just consumed a protein shake, not
wanting to stink like garlic and displease him. She had never met
anyone before who plainly stated that they were allergic to garlic,
but she thought it was a convenient excuse if anything.

Oh well, even if it is a
bunch of crap, it's kinda creative
, she
thought to herself.

"I just had a protein shake - gotta
watch the figure, you know," she continued with a grin, and then
watched him scan her figure which was quite watchable.

"Sounds good - think I'll
have the same… and maybe bring some
fritas
(French-fried potatoes) to
the game room with us."

"Okies - sounds good
sweetie, grab your stuff and let's get going," she said with a
voice coated in sugar. She could have called him a
rancid pig living in a bag of shit
using that voice, and he would have still melted
a little bit inside. That was saying a lot, because Ryder Johnson's
emotional temperature was in the range of around absolute
zero.

After an hour playing billiards, and
repeatedly beating her (but just barely), he started up with some
small talk, trying to get her to talk about herself, which she was
reticent to do. She simply fed his ego and always wanted to listen
to his stories, so he got an idea.

"Hey Jen, the game consoles down here
really suck, and I kinda got special permission to bring a
holo-game console onboard. Wanna play it? I brought along a bunch
of the latest games too."

"Oh, do you have Attack on Vela VII?"
she asked, with a hopeful intonation to her voice.

"As a matter of fact I do. Come with
me, my dear," he said as he led her away by the arm, much to the
dismay of nearly every other man in the game room who had been
watching her play, usually from behind where she was
standing.

Playing the holo-games didn't last
long. Ryder pulled out his bottle of tequila and poured them both a
drink as they relaxed on the small couch in his quarters. His room
was actually larger than the typical quarters allotted to a
Lieutenant, all due to his father's influence.

It wasn't long before the tequila
started taking effect on them both, and had them giggling while
watching some animated comedies - which turned to a kiss - then
turned into kissing on his bed while she strategically moved his
wandering hands to safe zones.

Ryder thought he was going to get what
he wanted that day, but Jennie always seemed to know how to deny
him carnal pleasures when in her company. This time her primary
defensive weapon was his bottle of tequila. She really believed
that if she were too easy he wouldn't respect her, and thus make
her less attractive as a potential wife.

She could outdrink
any
bacho
under
the proverbial table any day of the week, and this day she put
Ryder Johnson not only under the table, but passed out in his bed.
Then thinking about what Bagatelle had asked her, she saw no harm
in looking around his room a bit.

Making sure he was definitely passed
out by prodding him a certain way (which would have most likely
brought about an involuntary reaction if he were awake), she
started going through his drawers, only to find nothing. Then she
moved to his closet, where she only found his uniforms. The only
realistic place was under the bed, and he was right there, with his
head nearly hanging over the edge.

Kneeling down slowly, she quietly
dropped into a pushup position and lowered herself, spying a trunk
underneath. Curious, as it was not a regulation footlocker, she was
about to pull it out and take a look when he heard a
voice.

"Hey, what are you doing down
there?"

Her heart almost stopped, but thinking
fast, she pushed herself up, and then lowered herself.

"Five, six, seven, eight… Oh hey hon -
you awake already? Ryder's been a naughty boy, hmmm?"

He totally fell for it.

"Wow Jennie, you're such a workout
freak. Hmm, I've got an idea - why don't you do some pushups up
here?"

It wasn't against regulations to have a
non-military box of that type in their quarters, so she shrugged it
off and put it in the back of her mind. She was sure everything was
all right - after all, he would never do anything to jeopardize his
most promising career path.

Climbing up onto the bed, she decided
she would give him a bit more of herself - not everything, but
pretty damned close.

Ryder woke up a few hours later,
feeling around his bed but finding nothing. Looking up groggily, he
saw a note written on his static wallboard.

Sweetie, had a lot of fun,
but I had to get ready for my duty cycle. See you on the flight
deck -- Kisses



Jennie

Most men would have welcomed such a
note, and such a night, but Johnson wasn't like other guys - he was
furious. He had wasted weeks trying to get in the girl's pants and
couldn't even get to second base with her.

He was used to women of higher stature
- women from good families, not sad little orphans.

At least rich women put
out
, he thought,
and this tramp
should have given it
up on our first date, dumbass dega.

His family controlled his life - they
were his life. He could do whatever he pleased to whomever he
liked, including murder, and his father would make sure that
someone else was found culpable - but when it came to bringing a
wife home the woman had to be from a similarly connected family,
and of their same racial subtype.

"Bed anything you like, but
if you bring a dego baby home I'll disown you,"
his father had told him before he left for the
university.

While emigrants to Azul had thrown off
most of the old prejudices from Earth, some remained, and the
egalitarian upper class of society constantly attempted to
circumvent the laws that were created to keep all things available
to all people - as long as they earned it fair and
square.

If someone wanted to be a top military
commander they could - they needed to attend the university (public
universities were free), and then apply to attend the military
academy. Of course, people with degrees in obscure Old-Earth
Russian literature had certain obstacles to overcome, but it was
all about working hard and planning. Then they would have to spend
years moving up the ladder - not everyone is born to do that sort
of work, but everyone is born with a talent - they just need to
discover what it is.

Frustrated over his lack of success
with Jennie, he dropped to the floor, pulling his unorthodox
footlocker out from beneath his bed and pressing a combination of
numbers on the lock. Opening the top he pulled out a brand-new side
space video console and powered it up.

The screen flickered to life, a face
appearing in the slightly distorted display. An older,
aristocratic-looking gentleman, roughly in his 70s, with steel-gray
eyes, angular features, short gray hair and a pale complexion was
staring back at the lieutenant.

"Father - we arrive soon," said the
lieutenant, conveying absolutely no emotion to his voice, almost as
if he were a machine.

Chapter 5
- Hello, Draagh

Max stayed hidden behind the fallen
log; weapon trained on the interloper, and started to hysterically
scream at the newcomer.

"Who?  --- Who the hell are… you?
Are you from here? Answer me! Don't kill me! I'll destroy you!
Dammit! Help!"

The older gentleman chuckled, and then
burst out laughing, almost appearing to cry, being amused as he
was.

"My son, my son…. please put down your
weapon before someone gets hurt. I am not here to harm you in any
way. I am simply here…. to meet you."

Max took some deep breaths and calmed
his blood pressure.  He had a tendency to get very riled up in
dangerous situations. When he was younger his parents basically
forbade him from participating in group-based and/or one-on-one
athletic endeavors, as he would get so worked up and competitive
that he would injure his opponents and teammates alike.

Standing up slowly, Max lowered his
weapon and gave a long hard look at the man sitting and casually
smoking on a pipe. He had fairly long gray hair, a gray beard and
mustache that were sporting various braids, and odd, layered black
leather clothing. Completing the ensemble was a curiously ornate
walking staff that was leaning against the log upon which he was
sitting.