but the fire would
leave a lingering scent that he did not desire to mask. Max didn't
quite understand the whole meaning of that, but followed
instructions anyway.
After cleaning up the campsite they sat
at the bottom of the Machu Picchu's loading ramp, watching and
waiting for signs of anything. Suddenly, they heard the distinctive
sound of a Draeder scream overhead. Max ran out to the edge of the
canopy and saw the ship circle around, obviously scanning the area
for the Machu Picchu.
"Hey, if they land, will they be able
to locate us?" asked Max. Draagh simply smiled as he pulled out his
pipe, torching up some more of his beloved herb.
"We are expecting visitors, but not the
pilot of that craft. Something has happened, and that pilot is not
part of the reconnaissance team. His motive is much more sinister,
as is his lineage."
Max looked at Draagh with a concerned
expression and asked, "What is this stuff you keep saying about
lineage and so forth? You said I was a Neanderthal or something
last night."
Draagh chuckled under his breath and
took a long draw from his slender pipe, blowing out smoke rings
from his nose, which Max actually thought was pretty
cool.
"My son, we all have
lineage. I have lineage, you have lineage, as does that pilot, but
what makes us different is that we three have different lineages. Well, let me
take that back, yours is much closer to mine than his is to yours.
There are reasons for this that I cannot explain here, but most
assuredly will do so once we reach our destination - or perhaps
sooner."
"So just when do we go to this
destination? Why wait here? Can't we just pop out like we did to
Los Angeles?"
Draagh simply kept staring out through
the entrance to the canopy, which was so faithfully camouflaging
them from aerial view.
"My son, we are waiting for
someone. This is necessary. They need to know what they must do
while we are gone. It is that simple. All will be revealed in good
time, yes, in good time."
Then Draagh laid back and dozed off,
lightly snoring, while Max freaked out and started going through
all of his supplies.
Orbiting around Earth on the
Revolution, Rear Admiral Bagatelle was in his quarters changing his
uniform, as he was soon to leave the massive ship. As he went
through his gear bag, he had multiple scenarios running through his
head, but he started to think about the interrogation of the
merchant who had sold the transport to Gunnarsson.
When that merchant, Ali, went to that
little annex and reported on Gunnarsson's activities, he believed
he was going to receive a monetary award, when all it did was end
him up in an interrogation cell. Bagatelle had watched via vid
console as intelligence officers asked Ali the same questions over
and over again, trying to glean any extra, valuable bits of
information out of the man. The one thing that remained in
Bagatelle's mind was that Gunnarsson told Ali he was going to name
his ship the Machu Picchu. Bagatelle locked Ali down, with strict
orders to not reveal that they even had him in the first place.
This was considered military security, and he didn't want the
Security Council to be aware of everything that he knew. His level
of mistrust for Councilman Johnson was unparalleled. Of course, he
planned to apprehend Gunnarsson before the lad could leave Azul
airspace, but this didn't happen, resulting in The Revolution being
outfitted with the hook and then traveling back to the place where
humanity began. It wasn't until after Gunnarsson had escaped that
it dawned on him that the young scientist might go to the mythical
Machu Picchu, his ship's namesake. He was glad that he had kept
that information to himself all this time, especially now that Lt.
Johnson had gone rogue, without a doubt on a mission for his
corrupt father.
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
leave a lingering scent that he did not desire to mask. Max didn't
quite understand the whole meaning of that, but followed
instructions anyway.
After cleaning up the campsite they sat
at the bottom of the Machu Picchu's loading ramp, watching and
waiting for signs of anything. Suddenly, they heard the distinctive
sound of a Draeder scream overhead. Max ran out to the edge of the
canopy and saw the ship circle around, obviously scanning the area
for the Machu Picchu.
"Hey, if they land, will they be able
to locate us?" asked Max. Draagh simply smiled as he pulled out his
pipe, torching up some more of his beloved herb.
"We are expecting visitors, but not the
pilot of that craft. Something has happened, and that pilot is not
part of the reconnaissance team. His motive is much more sinister,
as is his lineage."
Max looked at Draagh with a concerned
expression and asked, "What is this stuff you keep saying about
lineage and so forth? You said I was a Neanderthal or something
last night."
Draagh chuckled under his breath and
took a long draw from his slender pipe, blowing out smoke rings
from his nose, which Max actually thought was pretty
cool.
"My son, we all have
lineage. I have lineage, you have lineage, as does that pilot, but
what makes us different is that we three have different lineages. Well, let me
take that back, yours is much closer to mine than his is to yours.
There are reasons for this that I cannot explain here, but most
assuredly will do so once we reach our destination - or perhaps
sooner."
"So just when do we go to this
destination? Why wait here? Can't we just pop out like we did to
Los Angeles?"
Draagh simply kept staring out through
the entrance to the canopy, which was so faithfully camouflaging
them from aerial view.
"My son, we are waiting for
someone. This is necessary. They need to know what they must do
while we are gone. It is that simple. All will be revealed in good
time, yes, in good time."
Then Draagh laid back and dozed off,
lightly snoring, while Max freaked out and started going through
all of his supplies.
Orbiting around Earth on the
Revolution, Rear Admiral Bagatelle was in his quarters changing his
uniform, as he was soon to leave the massive ship. As he went
through his gear bag, he had multiple scenarios running through his
head, but he started to think about the interrogation of the
merchant who had sold the transport to Gunnarsson.
When that merchant, Ali, went to that
little annex and reported on Gunnarsson's activities, he believed
he was going to receive a monetary award, when all it did was end
him up in an interrogation cell. Bagatelle had watched via vid
console as intelligence officers asked Ali the same questions over
and over again, trying to glean any extra, valuable bits of
information out of the man. The one thing that remained in
Bagatelle's mind was that Gunnarsson told Ali he was going to name
his ship the Machu Picchu. Bagatelle locked Ali down, with strict
orders to not reveal that they even had him in the first place.
This was considered military security, and he didn't want the
Security Council to be aware of everything that he knew. His level
of mistrust for Councilman Johnson was unparalleled. Of course, he
planned to apprehend Gunnarsson before the lad could leave Azul
airspace, but this didn't happen, resulting in The Revolution being
outfitted with the hook and then traveling back to the place where
humanity began. It wasn't until after Gunnarsson had escaped that
it dawned on him that the young scientist might go to the mythical
Machu Picchu, his ship's namesake. He was glad that he had kept
that information to himself all this time, especially now that Lt.
Johnson had gone rogue, without a doubt on a mission for his
corrupt father.
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
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