Verron: Serve and Protect: Book Two (Verron Series 2)

by Douglas Varnell

  That evening, the entire group booked a room at Rusty Water Brewery and Bar on Phillips Island. The girls were having a great time socializing with not only people from Australia, but a truly international group of riders. So many had always wanted to ride one of the finest tracks in the World and booked far in advance, traveling from as far away as Brazil, Argentina, Great Britain, Italy and the U.S. The group soon figured out who Tala and Katelyn were and where they were from, which quickly made them the center of attention. Neil Hodgson watched in amazement as the two girls casually spoke to the people at the table in their native tongue. They couldn’t get enough of the girls telling them about Verron. Several of them had been following the Verron’s on Facebook and in the news and couldn’t believe they were actually spending the weekend with two members of the Verron royal family.

  They were just finishing their meals, Tala had Pan Seared Scallops, Katelyn devoured her Warm Duck Salad and Sloan ordered the Rusty Beef Pie. The girls were enjoying the variety of foods available and the comradely socializing with motorcyclists from all over Earth. They soon found out that even in Australia, there are diametrically opposed cultures in the world of motorcycling. The group was about to order dessert when a group of six Hell’s Angels that operated out of Melbourne approached their table to harass the group of young riders.

  The six spread out around the table and their self-appointed leader reached over one of the men from Brazil’s shoulder and snatched up a few of his uneaten scallops. It was obvious that he had drunk a bit more than he should, so everyone basically tried to ignore the six men as they stood and stared. It suddenly became very silent at the table as the much smaller motorcyclists looked up at the six big men in black leathers and gang colors. Neil Hodgson was first to speak, saying, “Is there anything I can do for you gentlemen? Perhaps buy you another Fosters.” One of the men reached over and picked-up a half bottle of Fosters and poured it on the plate of one of the Germans, saying, “Only wankers drink this crap.” Katelyn was not going to let these jerks ruin their evening. She got up from her seat, followed by Tala. She stood right in front of the big biker and informed him, “If you and your friends turn around and leave now, you’ll be able to do it under your own strength. If anything but OK, comes out of your mouth, I promise you, they’ll be taking you out on a gurney. Think carefully before you speak. Now leave.”

  The man stood at least 6 foot 4 and easily weighed 300 pounds. He was not accustomed to little petite blonds giving him ultimatums. He didn’t speak; he instead took a swing while his five friends laughed at the stupid girls. In the silent dining room, as the other customers looked on in wonder, the sound of breaking bones resonated off the walls. It happened so fast that those watching weren’t exactly sure what they had just seen.

  As the police and ambulances arrived, there were dozens of witness statements taken, and none was absolutely certain how it happened. But everyone agreed that the six big men lying unconscious on the floor had started it. Tala and Katelyn were questioned, but none of the police took any of the statements seriously when they were told these two little girls turned into a whirlwind of fists and feet that reminded them of the Tasmanian Devil from Cartoons. Then it was over. As they left the restaurant, Neil approached Tala and Katelyn and commented, “When you two showed up at the track, I kept looking for your bodyguards. I see now why there were none with you. You two do this sort of thing often?” Tala smiled and quickly replied, “Nay, the things we usually fight are much bigger and carry weapons. I’m sorry if we made a mess with dinner. Neither of us can stand bullies of any kind. I bet they’ll think twice before they do it again.” The rest of the group talked of nothing else for the rest of the evening as they gathered around the hotel pool to wind down. The girls left the group early to head back to their rooms to get some sleep. They had just crawled into bed, when Tala asked, “How long do you think it will take to finish training the Aussies?” Katelyn responded, “We’re scheduled for six months, but I think they’ll be ready a lot sooner, you homesick already too?” Tala answered, “I’m having a lot of fun, but life is a lot less complicated on Verron. Think Dad will be mad about me buying the motorcycle and doing this school?” Katelyn threw her pillow at her and said, “You’re Daddy’s little girl, no way he’ll get upset with you.” Tala smiled and rolled over, saying, “I know; I just wanted to hear you say it.”

  Next morning, it was racing school as usual at Phillips Island. As requested, Neil Hodgson made certain that he and his other instructors focused closely on every little mistake that Tala made and then carefully instructed her in ways to correct them. They would ride 5 to 10 laps with an instructor following behind with a video camera and then critique the ride afterwards so they could see their mistakes. By the end of the day, the thirty riders were making tremendous progress under the expert instruction. When the clocks came out in the afternoon session, Tala’s times little by little began to go down, but seemed to level out at 1:38. Neil assured her that at this point the bike was doing all it could do. It would require a change of tires, suspension and a few more horsepower before she could shave any more time off her speed. He reminded her that these BMW 1000RR’s were totally stock except for the exhausts and removal of the lights. The tires were a better track tire than the stock units, and used regularly in Superstock Motorcycle Racing, but the bike was a long way from being a full-out Superbike. Tala gave him her sweetest smile and asked, “Do you have one around that is a fully prepared Superbike?” He shook his head and answered, “Koch has an Aprilia RSV4 he is racing next weekend. If you talk real sweet to him, he might let you take it around the track. But, it’s his decision, not mine.”

  Diner out that evening was uneventful. Not much trouble at the local Pizza Hut other than a two year-old boy with spaghetti on his hands trying to play with Tala’s red braid. It made her homesick for MJ, and she didn’t complain a bit. Sunday was going to be the last day and everyone was excited to have a chance to be divided up in small groups and actually do some racing. They were climbing out of the small bus at the Phillips Island Raceway and headed for pit row and the garages to get their assigned bikes when Katelyn and Tala suddenly came to a screeching halt and stared at the three men in front of the garage speaking with the track manager. Tala almost wanted to cry. She looked at Katelyn and said, “How much trouble do you think I’m in?” Katelyn pushed her forward as the other riders gave them questioning looks and replied, “I guess we’re about to find out.”

  Neil Hodgson was called over by the track manager and introduced to the three men standing beside him. He then turned to greet Tala and Katelyn, saying, “You know, at first, I thought you were sneaking behind your Da’s back to come here. I’m glad to see that he knew about it all the time.” He walked away, leaving the girls to face, Marcus, Grandpa Kary and King Verron. Neither could look them in the eye, and knew that they had been busted. Marcus was first to speak, “You realize Lucy tells me everything and not a penny spent gets by your Uncle Mike. You could have told me you know. I would have let you do it anyway. Then your Grandpa and Uncle Paul reminded me that there comes a time in life when you have to make your own decisions and be your own person. We all did it and your both a lot smarter than we were when we were your age. So we’re only here to enjoy watching you ride and being a part of the experience. So how are you doing?”

  Tala suddenly lit up, saying, “I love it and I’m the best there is; well, at least here anyway. Neil is still better than me, but I bet I can beat Grandpa or Uncle Paul now. I’m getting pretty good.” Kary looked at the girls and said, “You better hurry-up and get ready or they will start without you. We’ll be watching from pit row. Now get out of here.” As she raced off excited to show her favorite men how well she could race a motorcycle, Kary turned to his brother, saying, “Think she can beat us?” Paul smiled and answered, “She could probably beat you, but there’s no way she could take me.” In typical brotherly fashion, the two began to remind each other of their riding skills and
Paul as always ended any of these arguments with, “Yea, but who taught you how to ride?” Kary shook his head knowing that Paul had been riding longer and had more track experience than he did, but they were fiercely competitive with each other. Marcus laughed at his Father and Uncle and commented, “You two are worse than me and Mike when we were kids. Aren’t you a little old for this.” They both turned and simultaneously answered, “NO!” They then headed for pit row to watch Tala race around one of the finest tracks on Earth.

  It was obvious that Tala came from the same gene pool as her Grandpa and Uncle; she was the most aggressive rider on the track. Just like when she flew her Fighter or Speeder, she showed no sign of doubt or fear. The next few hours ended up being some of the most exciting racing the three men had enjoyed, and even the fellow students and several track officials were impressed by the little redhead that was giving a former FIM Superbike Champion and the current Australian Superbike Champion a real challenge around the track. Her fellow students would cheer for her whenever she would pass one of the other riders, often losing her advantage to the more experienced riders, but battling on to get back around them again. On their final lap, Neil won by less than a half a wheel. Their fight for a win had left the younger Australian Champion nearly 6 seconds behind. It didn’t matter that Neil had won, all the other school attendants swamped Tala to let her know how good she had done. Neil walked away from the rambunctious crowd and approached Marcus, asking, “How old is she really. I don’t doubt that her papers are real, but there’s no bloody way she’s 19.” Marcus smiled, “I will never say anything to keep her from doing something she enjoys as much as this.” Neil laughed, “Yea, you know those newspaper blokes. They’re always making mistakes in those articles they write. Cause’ I read where she was only 15 years-old when you were here in December. Those damn reporters can never get anything right.” Marcus laughed along with his Dad and Uncle and commented, “Well, no one knows the age of their child better than their own father, and I’m sure glad she’s old enough to ride professionally if she wants to. I figure if she can fly a Fighter Ship at faster than light and fight aliens in a battle outnumbered 1000 to 1, then she’s plenty old enough to race one of these little things that can only go a couple hundred miles per hour.”

  Paul couldn’t stand it and looked at Neil, then asked, “What’s the chance my brother and I could ride one of your bikes around the track? I’ll even buy the motorcycle if I have to.” Neil knew it would be a good PR move to let a King and Prince go for a ride and answered, “You sign the wavers and rental agreement and I can probably get you on the track for about an hour. My track rental time runs out in about an hour and a half, so hurry and get your gear. Kary was grinning ear to ear as the two brothers followed Neil to the large trailer with filled the rental leathers, boots and helmets. They got dressed in record time and exited the trailer to two BMW’s full of gas and waiting on them. They both checked to see that both bikes had new tires on them, and had never been used. They hopped on and fired-up, quickly doing a warm-up lap; more for the tires than themselves. As word spread about Tala’s Uncle and Grandpa about to do a few laps, those at the track, including the workers and instructors, gathered along pit row to see a King and a Prince race around the track. They were not about to be disappointed. One of the first things Paul and Kary did was switch off the traction control system. They both wanted to be in control of every aspect of the bikes performance and not some computer system. When they exited the last corner before the long pit straight-away, they both hit the throttle for all the bike had. The race was on.

  Although they both looked to be about the same size, Paul’s dense bones and muscles gave him a distinct weight disadvantage. Kary quickly shot ahead, but Paul sat in his draft up till the last minute and held on to the throttle a bit longer before hitting the brakes entering the sharp corner. He looked like a flat tracker as he squared off the corner and immediately accelerated ahead of the other bike. The battle raged for ten laps, with Kary gaining the advantage on the high speed sections and Paul working ahead through the tight curves and corners. The spectators were enjoying the two-brother challenge as they had begun to call it. By lap five, they were both running lap speeds of the mid 1:30’s; as fast as many fully prepared Superbikes, but still not where the Moto GP bikes could run.

  Neil and his assistant instructors told Tala, “Well, the nut doesn’t fall far from the tree. Those two are as crazy as you are. I’m proud to know the lot of ya.” While the brothers were having their sibling rivalry, Marcus approached Neil and asked, “What would it take to get Tala on a bike to compete? Do you think she is good enough?” Neil looked at Tala’s Dad and answered, “Bloody right she’s good enough and finishing this class qualifies her for a license. She’ll have to start out in the 600 Supersport Class, but with a few good finishes should be able to move up pretty quick. All she needs is a competitive ride and enough money to race it.” Tala heard the conversation and got so excited she wanted to scream. She hugged Marcus so hard she nearly crushed him and quickly asked, “Think Uncle Paul will sponsor me on one of his?” Neil looked at them confused and Tala added, “Uncle Paul owns two motorcycle dealerships. He sells Triumph, Ducati and BMW. I think if I have to race in the Supersport Class, I’d rather ride a 675 Triumph. What do you think Neil? Would I be better off on the Ducati 899?” Neil smiled and assured her, “Either will do the trick if it’s set up right. It’s the rider that will make the difference.” Marcus asked, “Neil, how would you like to manage Tala. I want her to enjoy herself while she’s here and it’s obvious she is pretty good. Just name your price and whatever you need is yours.” Tala was almost ready to do a goat/monkey dance, she was so excited. Neil answered, “I can’t abandon the school, I’ve worked too hard to build it up, but I should be able to do both, if that’s good enough for you.” Neil looked at Tala, saying, “The season opener begins right here next weekend. If you can’t find a bike in time, I know I sure can. Will you listen to what I tell you or are you going to be one of those stubborn riders.” Tala jumped and hugged him around the neck, saying, “Your wish is my command.”

  The battling brothers both did a wheelie across the finish line and did a burn-out for good measure, then returned to pit-row to be greeted by the class attendants and track employees. Neil and his staff soon joined them, along with Tala, Katelyn and Marcus. Tala’s first response was, “Papaw I beat your time by half a second.” She then turned to Paul and continued, saying, “Did you cheat?” Paul laughed and answered, “I thought about it, but I was having too much fun to worry about it. I think we need a track on Verron. You think it would get much use?” Tala quickly replied, “Well, I know it would get used by you, me and Papaw, but I think a racetrack would be like the baseball field in Field of Dreams; build it and they will come.” Marcus had forgotten all about that movie, and commented, “If we built it right, maybe we could help build a little tourism with Motorcycle and Car racing on Verron. I bet Renee would be all over that idea.” Neil and the others who overheard the conversation couldn’t believe these people so casually planned to put together a racing team for Tala and build a track on Verron.

  Paul turned to the group and asked, “If I built a track even nicer than this one on Verron, how many of you would come to ride or race on it?” The response was 100%. He turned to Neil and asked, “Who designs the best race tracks to meet Formula One, FIM Superbike and MotoGP standards? If we build a track it has to be better than anything currently out there.” Neil immediately responded, “Alan Wilson; his company’s designed half the tracks in the world.” Paul made a mental note and sent a telepathic message to Lucy.

  The Verron family and Petty Officer Sloan were turning in their gear and settling-up the bill with the riding school, when Paul asked, “How did you three get down here?” Petty Officer Sloan answered, “Commander Briskoll pulled a bit of helicopter time and brought us down. He’s supposed to be back later this evening to pick us up.” Paul smiled and replied, “Non-sense
, you can ride with me.” Sloan, and those following them out of the track to the awaiting motel shuttle, looked around to see how he got there. That’s when he had Lucy uncloak the Dragon Wagon. Tala and Katelyn quickly took charge and escorted their new friends to the ship for a tour. It was obvious that both girls had made several life-long friends from these motorcycle enthusiasts. Neil and his team had to get their equipment loaded and out of the track facility. The shuttle driver drove the girls and Sloan back to the Motel to get their things, while Paul, Marcus and Kary helped Neil and his team of instructors load the equipment into their trucks. None of the instructors could believe that a King and two Princes were sweating side-by-side with them in the hot Australian sun. Marcus mentioned Tala wanting to race the next weekend and that Neil Hodgson was going to coach and manage her. When the subject of a bike to ride came up, Neil admitted that after years of racing for Ducati, he was better able to have Tala an 899 ready to race than anything else. He was getting use to the way these people did things, but was a bit surprised when Paul asked, “How did Petty Officer Sloan do?” One of the instructors quickly answered as he looked at his iPad, with, “Today he had almost every lap at under 1:40. He’s actually pretty good.” Paul turned to Neil and informed him, “I don’t see how you can have a team with only one rider, get them going this weekend and I’ll provide you with as many bikes and as much equipment as you need. I always wanted to race at this level of profession but never had the resources, to this day I regret not living out my dream. I want to see my family live out theirs. All I ask is that I be allowed to hang-out in the pits and take a test ride now and then.” He handed Neil a card with Michael Verron’s name, number and e-mail, saying, “This is Tala’s uncle. He handles my finances. Just tell him what you need. I’ll try to make it next week, if I don’t, well I’ll know she’s in good hands.”