by S. K. Benton
“I’m sorry, Lieutenant. Maybe he just didn't want you to know—”
Max then looked over to Bagatelle and prepared to give a full explanation of his actions.
Jennie immediately felt horrible for the way she had treated Josh throughout the many months he had been with Becky. She had no idea that he suffered from an incurable ailment - extremely rare, given Azul’s medical technology. This revelation, along with Ryder’s recent betrayal, caused her to subconsciously reflect on how she tended to look at the exterior and not what was inside a person, but she still had a job to do, and Gunnarsson needed to be taken back to Azul – dead or alive.
“Um,” Max continued, “Sir, I spent the last five years of my life working on this project. It was my pride and joy, and I had based my entire future career on it. I put my all into it, 100% - not only for myself, but also for all mankind. I had no previous intentions of returning to Earth, that is, until we were practically shut down from real-time testing in the field. I mean, who are the Security Council to keep us from defending our world? There’s an alien fleet on its way to Azul, and it’s much, much worse than anyone believes. I had my suspicions, but I didn’t even realize how bad it was until I arrived here and then met Draagh, who, by the way, I didn’t know before. He confuses me as much as I’m sure he is confusing you right now.”
Bagatelle regarded Max with a slightly more relaxed look on his face, and allowed him to continue.
“There is something seriously wrong here, sir. Did you notice that there are no human remains? Anywhere? Do you know why that is?”
Bagatelle shook his head, and Max continued.
“There’s an alien race called the Vrol. They invaded Earth over 400 years ago and nearly wiped out humanity on this world, and now they’re on their way to Azul to do the same thing, but calling themselves Artusians. Draagh brought me to an old computer complex where I saw vid recordings of the invasion. They covered this entire planet with a nasty, virulent amoeba that eats you alive once you are infected, and even before I met Draagh I found traces of this amoeba, fossilized and harmless at the present - but I have proof, Sir. I have proof of what happened.”
Max looked pleadingly into his superior officer’s eyes, but he wasn’t finished speaking.
“Sir - please, we must retrofit the entire fleet and go stop the Vrol in their tracks. They don’t negotiate. They don’t care. They’ll even kill their own in order to decimate entire populations. The Vrol is a hive mind that thinks nothing more of killing their own than you or I would when clipping our fingernails. It’s simply not a consideration to them.”
Bagatelle looked like he was considering what Max had just told them, when Draagh interjected.
“My dear sir, what Max tells you is true, and if you would like, I can prove it to you.”
Bagatelle nodded his head, while Jennie sat there, silent and taking in the entire conversation, still unable to believe that Max was a Commander. Then Bagatelle spoke, although with a slightly less threatening tone to his voice.
“Commander, what you did was wrong. We have rules. If I am to believe anything that you just said, I need to know one thing first. If you simply didn’t agree with the Security Council, and had no information on the Vrol before, what prompted you to leave Azul in the first place, knowing we would pursue?”
Before Max could answer, Draagh made a goofy face and spun his index finger around, while saying, “Ooooh, sorry. That was me!” and then chuckled lightly.
Everyone gave him a look of disbelief, as he rolled his eyes back and poured another shot of whisky.
“Please. Everyone. Have a drink with me. We could all use it.”
Finally, Bagatelle put the glass to his lips and took a sip, his expression showing that the taste of the whisky was indeed agreeable. Jennie then followed his lead, also cautiously taking a sip.
Draagh then continued, “So, yes, I am afraid I must admit it. Yes, it was I. Guilty! I planted little suggestions in Max’s head, but also in yours! Yes! Both of you! We were destined to meet, as we all have very important matters of which to take care - but first, I would like to share a bit of information with both of you. You, Admiral - you bite your lip when you experience stress, do you not?”
Bagatelle looked at Draagh, amazed, but nodded his head.
“And you, young lady, do you not have the same recurring dream of chasing deer through the woods?”
Jennie, totally alarmed, shot back, “How did you know that? Oh my God! No one knows that! I’ve never told a soul.”
Draagh smiled and said, “Well, I know these things, and much, much more. Yes, I do. You see - it is what I do. I observe, and sometimes correct, and at this time, we need to seriously correct some things, lest the Vrol turn Azul into a lifeless ball of noxious gases. Admiral, Lieutenant… May I call you Lou and Jennie? You see, I have a fondness for shortening names, like Max here. Why say Maximilianus, when it is so much easier to say Max? I have always had a particular fancy for languages. Why, did you know that the Kartovian word for dinner is actually 137 syllables long? Oh goodness, I never, ever went there in the evenings. I would have never eaten!”
Bagatelle looked at Draagh, totally lacking an expression.
“You can call me Luigi.”
Jennie looked over at her commanding officer, and thanks to the small sips of alcohol had obviously started to loosen up a bit.
“Lui—”
“Shut up, Jennie”
“Yes sir…”
“There! You see? Now we are on a first name basis. This is brilliant, quite brilliant indeed!” Draagh went to load his pipe, but Max grabbed his arm and whispered, “Draagh, not here, please.”
Looking considerably more relaxed, Bagatelle regarded Draagh with a solemn gaze.
“So… Draagh, how is it that you know these personal things about us, and how did you supposedly plant suggestions in our heads?”
“It is what I do - but what if I could tell you why you do these things, why you have these dreams? Max here becomes incredibly strong when his stress levels get high. Would you like to know these things about yourselves?”
All three nodded their heads in unison, so Draagh continued.
“You three are from a very old and noble subspecies of humanity. Throughout the ages, there have been many subspecies. The Neanderthals, the Cro-Magnons, The Atlanteans, and of course… you!”
Max looked around at Draagh and said, “Um, us? Could you be a little more specific, please?”
“Why, Homo Sapiens Canis, of course! You are what some call… lycans.”
Bagatelle, Escalante and Max all three sat in stunned silence. Each one had the desire to start laughing out loud, but the events of the past half hour had been so utterly strange that they would have believed anything by now. Draagh sat there, looking at them, while a wide grin on his face.
“And I am a mage; a Primulus, actually, but you may call me a mage. Yes I am, and quite a good one too, I might add.”
Chapter 9 – Learning Stuff
“What exactly is a lycan?” asked Max, slightly stunned, but relieved that Draagh had finally stopped talking in circles.
“My boy,” continued the mage, “a lycan is a subspecies of Homo Sapiens that possesses the gift of therianthropy – the ability to change into to the form of an animal. Of course, we all know that ‘sapiens’ comes from ‘sapient’, which means one who shows wisdom. Oh, but it is not enough to be sentient, to be self-aware. No, no, no. Sapience is where it is at! Then we add some modifications to the gene pool, and you are Homo Sapiens Canis, with the canis part being of canine extraction. In essence, you have the genetic qualities of an ancient form of wolf in you. This provides you with a myriad of extra abilities, of which you sadly cannot take advantage, due to the nature of your world, or even here on Earth - anymore, that is.”
Bagatelle actually raised his hand, as if asking for permission to speak. “Draagh, please be more specific. We have extra abilities, but we cannot use them? What kinds of abilities?” Bag
atelle always knew he was a bit different, and it was not the fact that his teeth felt a bit sharper when his stress levels went up. He could always count on his superior strength in times of need, simply attributing it to adrenaline. He also had an effect on people – he could look someone in the eyes and convince them of his noble efforts. He moved through military ranks using his abilities, but to think that he had more? That was unrealistic to him.
Draagh went on, saying, “On a world such as this, and also Azul, there is a particular form of energy that still exists to this day, but is inaccessible to man. Oh yes, quite far in the past, say 2,200 years ago, we, that is, my kind, decided to change man’s energy frequency via a widespread trans-mutagenic virus, thereby eliminating his ability to harness this energy of which I speak. We found it necessary for man to be reliant upon nothing but his own basic skills and wits, as he was not progressing at all, no, not at all. This process more or less took one generation, with some rare exceptions, as is the case with all viruses, so that the majority of those people who could avail themselves of this energy were rendered normal, even though they carried the recessive genes of their subspecies. Supernormal abilities faded into legend quite quickly, as they did not have instant communications and detailed data archives back in those days. Oh, it was quite difficult at first, quite difficult indeed, and it resulted in some minor tragedies, but man forged on and eventually became what we have on Azul!”
“What sort of tragedies are you talking about?” asked Jennie.
Draagh looked like he was pondering something for a moment, and then spoke in a fashion so nonchalant that stunned the other three.
“Oh, the Dark Ages. The Black Death. The Conquest of the Iberian Peninsula. Little things like that.”
“Little things?” Max interjected, in horror, “Little things, like… the Dark Ages? The Plague?” Max had studied Earth history, and rather enjoyed the subject, making it a minor in his first undergraduate degree. It had given him great comfort to know that Man had come so far, and that despite his often violent history he had conquered space and colonized a new world. Draagh went further, and waved a hand in the air, creating a holographic series of images that appeared in the space between the four of them and followed what he was saying. Bagatelle, Jennie and Max simply stared, being absolutely blown away by the ease in which this strange Viking-garbed man was conjuring holograms in the air.
“Yes, sadly these things were necessary in order to ensure mankind’s advancement in the universe - and the plague – well, that was unfortunate, but unavoidable. I mean, that infernal church was telling everyone that sex was forbidden! My goodness! What do you think the people then did? Sex, sex, sex, sex! Babies popping out all over the place!”
The three spectators waved their hands in the air, attempting to swat away annoying holographic Cupid-like cherubs that flew around their heads.
“O-ho! The European population exploded! Why, if we had interceded on man’s behalf and wiped out the Yersinia Pestis bacteria, well, you would have never emigrated to Azul - your ancestors would have all died of starvation! Lovely planet, Azul is. Yes, quite lovely. You have done a fine, fine job there. We are all quite proud of you achievements.”
Bagatelle sat for a moment, taking it all in and preparing a response while watching as Draagh’s animated show dissipated into thin air, ending with some cherubs disturbingly murdering each other with their bows and arrows.
“I am well aware of Earth’s - and Azul’s history, but I never heard anything factual about some sort of energy, or extra any abilities in mankind’s past. This sounds like it all comes out of an Old-Earth fantasy story. Detail some of these things to me, if you would.”
Draagh made a thoughtful expression and put his finger to his lips, as if he were dredging historical facts out of the depths of his mind.
“Well, lycans can call on enhanced strength. I am sure that you have experienced this in your life at some time, perhaps when you are under extreme pressure?”
All three nodded their heads, while Draagh continued, “In Earth’s ancient past, your ancestors could transform themselves and become even stronger. And they had enhanced senses, such as vision, hearing and smell. There were certain side effects to these abilities, but they were minor. Overall, you were our greatest achievement! The virus in your bodily fluids is a wonder of genetic engineering. On the proper world, you would be practically immortal, with its complex energies constantly revitalizing you systems.”
Jennie sat up straight and called attention to herself by saying, “A virus? So, we are ill?”
“Oh no, my dear. Not ill,” said Draagh, “as the virus works in direct contact with your genetic code, giving you those extra capabilities, and also enabling your kind to increase your numbers, which, unfortunately, can also be done by the ghouls and the cannibals. That being said, the cannibals must exchange blood and saliva with their target, but the ghouls and the lycans can do so simply with an exchange of blood.”
“How is this done? This exchange of blood?” asked Bagatelle.
“Oh, usually through a bite in a significantly large enough vein, or a minor artery,” responded the old man.
All three thought back in their lives if they had ever bitten anyone, and to their collective relief none had.
Draagh continued on, relating how Bagatelle’s habit of biting his lip was an inherited trait, as that was what a lycan would do right before he intends to transmit the lycanthrope virus to someone, effectively changing them into a lycan also. The virus would enter the bloodstream of the target, and replicate until it had the sufficient numbers needed to start a gentle process of genetic enhancement
“So, Draagh, what would happen if I bit Rear Admiral Bagatelle?” asked Max, only to receive a precautionary glare from the superior officer.
“Oh, I imagine… well, I imagine it would hurt!” exclaimed the mage, “but as for any sort of viral transferal – no, nothing would happen. You both have the same base-pair code in your genes.”
Max sat in a state of disbelief, trying to visualize what Draagh was saying. “So Draagh,” he asked, “you said there were side effects. What were they? What happened to lycans?”
Draagh continued, “Oh, they would pretty much turn into giant wolves on a full moon, but some could control this quite well, yes - quite well. Of course, a mage of adequate skill could keep this change from happening, or even reverse it with a sufficient electrical shock.”
At that moment all four of them got an immediate wake-up call, as they heard a Draeder screaming overhead. Bagatelle immediately consulted his portable console and saw that all of his Draeders on mission were continuing on their sweep patterns in search of Lt. Johnson, and that they were nowhere near Machu Picchu. He surmised that it had to be Lt. Johnson, and gave Draagh and Max an alarmed look. Draagh looked upward, with no one actually able to see the sky, as they were under the protective canopy of lush vegetation.
“Oh, yes, the very bad man. Quite tragic what he did upon leaving your ship. Yes, quite tragic. I had not foreseen that particular bit of malignant behavior, but no worries! He cannot see us, or your craft up in the ruins. I have taken care of that, so that we may continue our little discussion. Yes, we are quite invisible. Quite invisible.
Draagh paused momentarily, and then continued, “Would anyone else like a spot of this fine whisky? I am feeling a bit parched,” to which Max then said, “Um, Draagh, alcohol dehydrates you - so the scotch won’t help.”
“Max, please do not ruin the moment. Drink up, my friends!”
Draagh then leaned over and poured a bit more scotch in everyone’s glasses and continued.
“So, I was saying. Your ancestors would turn into giant, snarling - but quite impressive - wolves. A lovely site, it was. Terrifying, but they were necessary! Yes, quite necessary, as there were other subspecies of humanity that needed to be controlled. The lycans were the keepers of honor, the soldiers of destiny, and the protectors of liberty.”
“What we
re these other subspecies you are talking about? The gloms and the carnivores you mentioned?” asked Jennie.
“Why, my dear young lady. There were those who thrived on death, nearly dead themselves, and then there were the cannibals. Fortunately, the cannibals were unable to procreate, so they would basically die off on their own if properly contained. Otherwise, they would spread their infection far and wide. The peddlers of death, whom I referred to as ghouls, however, actively brought others into their ranks, as they hated the lycans. Oh yes, they quite hated the lycans with every rotten fiber of their beings.”
“Draagh, this is all a lot to take in at one time, but are there any others like us?” asked Max.
“Of course, my dear boy! There are quite a few on your world, but nowhere near in the numbers of normals.”
“Normals?”
“Yes, normals. Humans without any, how shall I say, extra abilities. They comprise of roughly 98% of Azul’s population - and a good thing too! Could you imagine trying to run interference for countless thousands of lycans, keeping them safe and scrambling doctors anytime one went in for a physical examination? It would be unmanageable! Unmanageable beyond imagination!”
Max looked over at Bagatelle and Jennie, and then asked, “Do either of you recall your doctors looking like they had self-medicated when performing a physical or drawing blood?”
Both Bagatelle and Jennie gave astonished looks at each other, and slowly nodded their heads.
“So, without your help we would have been detected?” Max asked Draagh, turning again to him.
“Yes, my son. Myself, and some like me. We are few in numbers, and have lost a couple of our kind to dark temptations, but we do try and protect our charges. We are also helped by a lower caste with much more plentiful numbers. As I said, those of my kind are few, but the lower caste is numerous. I believe you used to call them angels in your ancient religions, and they also possess abilities similar to mine.”
Religion existed on Azul, as everyone was free to believe what he or she desired, but most scientists did not believe in the supernatural, making this all the more difficult for Max, as well as Bagatelle and Jennie, to accept.
