The Evolution of F.O.R.C.E.

“I’m transporting you to the surface. Your presence is distracting me. I need to know you’re safe,” Harrier said.

“Very well. My slave will accompany me. He will be punished for the liberties he has taken with my person,” Peregrine responded.

Tugging on the rope she held, she pulled Miguel close. Struggling in the chains wrapped around his arms, Roemer tried without success to back away. His leash was too short.

“This animal is dangerous and unpredictable. Best to kill it now,” Harrier answered and pointed his pistol at Roemer’s chest.

Peregrine stepped in front of Miguel and said, “General, are you defying me?”

Surprised by her attitude, Harrier lowered his gun. “Never. I have only your best interests in mind. Once your safety is confirmed, I can take steps to demolish this starship.”

“Very well. Ready my shuttle.”

Pulling Miguel after her like a recalcitrant dog, Peregrine strutted out of the control room.

Hannah Wren entered the compartment and nodded as they passed. Drawing to attention before Harrier, she looked askance at the bound figures of Tom and the other Humans.

“My commandos managed to shoot several holes in the hull on the Hangar Deck and space many of the rebellious Humans and Chrysallamans. Some of the aliens managed to reach the adjoining corridors and survived when the automatic hatches slammed shut. They’re making their way to this deck. With their shields reactivated, our weapons are useless.”

“Is this Heinbaum character among the survivors?” Harrier asked.

Wren raised a questioning eyebrow and Harrier continued, “An old Human male wearing a white coat.”

“I don’t know. I was too busy dodging disintegrator beams to notice anything that specific.”

“The only safe thing you can do is run,” McPherson said. “Heinbaum’s coming for you.”

“Shut up or I’ll have you gagged,” Harrier warned. “Better still,” and he aimed his pistol at McPherson’s head.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” Tom warned. “Heinbaum would take personal offense if his buddy, McPherson, suffers any injury. You don’t want him taking a special interest in you.”

“Don’t threaten me,” Harrier warned but he holstered the pistol. Spying Hisspat Zeck lying on the deck nearby struggling to stand, Harrier kicked him in the stomach. Zeck doubled up in pain.

Turning toward the hatch, Harrier ordered, “Lace this compartment with enough X4 to ensure its complete destruction. Set the timers for 60 minutes. I want to watch from my office balcony as this ship plunges into the atmosphere like a meteor.”

Harrier left for his shuttle followed by Wren. The Assid commandos set to work with dedication. Where a kilo of explosive would do, they doubled up. Even McPherson broke into a cold sweat as he counted the number of bricks they used.

After making sure all the timers were set to simultaneously trigger in 60 minutes, they hurried for their shuttle. They didn’t want to be anywhere near the Destinnee when its control room along with a quarter of the ship’s structure exploded.

“Can you free yourself?” Tom asked McPherson.

“No, sir. I can’t get any leverage.”

At that moment, Heinbaum peeked around the corner of the open hatch. Seeing no Asiddian guards, he straightened his tie and entered.

Reaching into his coat pocket, he pulled out his cell phone and snapped a couple of photos of McPherson.

“You better take a few shots of your face so you can remember what you looked like,” McPherson growled. “’Cause you won’t recognize yourself after I get through with you.”

“Don’t be childish,” Heinbaum chided. Then he grinned, “These photos will be used for advanced military training to demonstrate the proper way to bind an enhanced Human. I dare say you’ll be famous.”

Kneeling near Tom, he used his Finger gun to blast away the chains wrapped around the man. Next he helped Jason and Makayla. At long last, he turned to McPherson.

“I like you this way,” he said. “Obedient. Servile.”

“Enjoy it while you can, Heiny. I know where you live,” McPherson warned as he struggled in vain to free himself. “Now get me out of these chains.”

Enjoying his fleeting dominion over the big man, Heinbaum relented and dissolved the locks with a single blast from his Finger gun. While McPherson wriggled out of the chains, Heinbaum moved to the far side of the compartment where he had a better chance of dodging the big man’s grasp.

Tom helped Zeck stand and said, “Do you think you can rally the survivors we found in the catacombs under Trissalic to help us fight the Asiddians?”

Straightening as best he could after Harrier’s hateful kick to his ribs, Zeck replied, “My people won’t rest until their home is cleansed of every Asiddian body.”

Glaring at Tom, he continued, “I want your promise you Earth people will leave Chrysalis in peace when this is all over. If you do, I promise to relinquish my title as HG-281′s planetary governor and remove it from the list of suitable planets targeted for Chrysallaman colonization.”

Zeck’s demeanor was solemn, and Tom couldn’t believe the lizard still clung to the notion he had a claim to Earth.

Biting his tongue to keep from voicing the sarcastic response he wanted to give, Tom replied, “I agree to your terms. Now let’s throw the Assids out of Chrysalis space.”

***

Whatsit became aware of a pounding headache and rolled onto his back. Boottall was sitting against a bulkhead with a dazed look. Chellsee lay in a crumpled heap nearby, and Whatsit crawled to her. Cradling her head in his lap, he checked for a pulse and found a strong beat. At last she blinked and cried out in pain as she rubbed her forehead.

“What happened?” she whispered.

“Don’t know yet. The last thing I remember was activating Lloyd’s chip. It must have worked, or we’d be dead.”

Roobee groaned, and they watched Rallphh check her condition. Boottall struggled to stand and using the bulkhead as a prop, he pushed erect.

“Vlad is no longer a factor in the control of Destinnee,” Lloyd announced. “Thank you for giving me the opportunity to kick his ass.”

Chuckling in spite of his pain, Whatsit said, “The more fights you get into, the more you sound like McPherson.”

“Don’t tell Dr. Heinbaum. He might shoot me with a MA ray.”

“I’m going to Bowler Central,” Boottall slurred as he fought to regain his senses. “I thought Doug was dangerous, but being around you, Whatsit, has changed my mind.”

Grinning in spite of his aches, Whatsit helped Chellsee stand.

“We better get to the Master Control Room. We’ll drop Roobee off at the Med Bay.”

“General Blunt has reached an agreement with Hisspat Zeck. Zeck is going to organize the Chrysallaman Resistance and lead it in an assault on Trissalic,” Lloyd said. “I was concerned about the alliance until reviewing Human history. A proverb from the 4th century BC states the enemy of my enemy is my friend.”

“General Dunnbull won’t like the idea, and I’m not sure I do either,” Whatsit replied. “The Humans who came up with the proverb weren’t thinking about a six and a half foot tall cannibalistic lizard from another planet. Zeck is a murdering lunatic who makes Genghis Kahn look like a Boy Scout. Where’s he now?”

“Heading for the Resistance quarters.”

“Lead me there.”

***

The Porcupine crew had just popped back to Chrysalis orbit when the FLR buzzed, and a familiar voice blared from the speaker.

“I knew there had to be Scottish blood in you, Colonel Jenson. A person can’t hide good genetics for long.”

“McPherson,” Doug exclaimed. “It’s good to hear your voice. What’s your status?”

“Alive and well. Destinnee is back in control of the good guys. Thanks to your team, we have 5 fewer enemy ships to clear from orbit.”

Becky leaped off the flight couch and wrapped her arms around Doug. After a moment’s hesitation, she kissed him.

“Tom wants you back aboard Destinnee. He’s cooking up a plan with Hisspat Zeck and needs all the scout saucers.”

“I thought Hissy was a prisoner of war,” Becky said.

“Zeck has agreed to organize the Chrysallamans rescued from the catacombs. He’ll be leading the ground assault.”

Staring into Doug’s eyes, Becky said, “Looks like war makes strange bedfellows.”

“Bedfellows?” Doug asked.

“Bedfellows? McPherson chuckled.

“Shut up,” Doug and Becky replied at the same time.

MerrCrr pointed at the viewscreen and said, “The Asiddian ship that tried to bury us in lava is off our port bow. Can you read its name?′

Doug and Becky buckled themselves in their flight couches. While Doug calculated the coordinates for the central hold, Becky enlarged the image on the screen until she could make out the name.

“It’s the Gadwall,” she said.

Heinbaum’s excited voice burst from the speaker, “Ernest is on that ship.”

“What do you mean, Doc?” Doug asked.

“Gooey and I were hiding in the lab. Ernest was shot by a soldier and badly wounded. I heard someone in authority order them to take him to the Gadwall med bay. He’s probably still onboard. You’ve got to rescue him.”

MerrCrr and Becky nodded their agreement, but Doug hesitated.

“Finding a lone Human in a ship that size will be next to impossible.”

“Not at all, dear fellow,” Heinbaum replied. “I’m sending you the PDSI implant locator code for Ernest. It will guide you to him.”

“Great. Now all we have to do is find a way to move around in a ship full of Asiddians without being discovered.”

“I didn’t know you were so pessimistic,” Becky smiled. Reaching over, she gave Doug’s hand a reassuring squeeze.

“Tell Tom we have an errand to run before coming home,” Doug said as he placed his finger on the GPC GO button.

MerrCrr had been watching the viewscreen and sat up with a jerk. Leaning forward and squinting, he pointed and said, “There’s something floating towards us in the upper starboard quadrant. It’s small.”

Everyone searched for the object and at last Doug said, “I see it.”

Circling what he saw to highlight its position, he magnified it. “It’s a Bowler,” Becky whispered. “Must have been blown into space during the attack.”

An idea began developing in Doug’s brain, and he said with a smile, “Let’s get it inside. I have an idea it might be useful.”

***

The soccer field on Deck 5 had been turned into makeshift living quarters for the Chrysallaman Resistance. Almost seven hundred refugees were crowded into the arena. Non-military caregivers and children occupied one end of the field. Military personnel were scattered around the other end in groups performing exercises or practicing martial arts.

Hisspat Zeck walked through the main hatch. He wore his golden robe of conquest and the diamond tiara of planetary leadership on his brow. Sparkling under the overhead lights, the tiara gave the impression Zeck was Royalty. Groups from the civilian and military sides began milling toward him.

Dunnbull recognized the former General and jogged toward him from his observation seat on the military side of the field. His array of medals clinked as he ran. Gesturing for his guards to take positions around Zeck, Dunnbull felt a sinking sensation in his gut as he imagined the loss of his position in the rebellion. There could be no other reason for Zeck showing up than to take over as leader.

Helleen had been schooling a group of youngsters on Chrysallaman history when Zeck walked through the hatch. She remembered him from the time of his departure for planet HG-281 with the colonization fleet. When Dunnbull’s guards began to surround Zeck, she realized a confrontation was brewing. Expressing her apologies, she hurried toward the growing crowd.

Donning the equivalent of a telepathic headset microphone, Zeck raised his arms to get everyone’s attention. Ignoring Dunnbull’s guards, he said, “Friends, I bring you greetings from Emperor Horcunt. I am Hisspat Zeck, the planetary governor of Planet HG-281 and leader of the colonization fleet. In cooperation with the Humans, I am here to lead you in the campaign to take back Chrysalis from the Asiddian menace.”

A few cheers sounded from the crowd, and Zeck smiled like a politician. Dunnbull realized if he didn’t do something fast, he’d lose his position of power.

Walking to within a few feet of Zeck, he said in his loudest telepathic voice, “Listen to me. Hisspat Zeck is in league with Emperor Horcunt who abandoned us to save himself. We are the people who built this very ship where we stand. The Humans stole it from Emperor Horcunt, and his lackey Hisspat Zeck thinks we’re stupid enough to believe he’s not a Human stooge. Why should we suffer being given scraps from the animals who stole from us? We should be in command of the Destinnee, not the Emperor, Zeck or the Humans. I for one won’t stand to be insulted. I for one reject Hisspat Zeck’s empty words. I for one reject Hisspat Zeck and the Humans. Who will join me?”

This time the cheers from the crowd turned to roars of approval. Zeck couldn’t believe his words had been turned on him with such ease. The guards grabbed his arms, and Zeck struggled. He felt the headset being pulled off. Twisting around, Hisspat saw an old woman adjusting the set to her temples.

“Listen to me,” she cried. “Listen.”

The threatening crowd hesitated. Losing the momentum his words had created, Dunnbull moved to jerk the headset off her, but she sidestepped his hand.

“I am a member of the Civilian Counsel of the Rebellion, and I demand to speak with you.”

“Let her talk,” someone in the crowd yelled. Others agreed, and a chant began and grew louder. “Let her talk. Let her talk.”

Dunnbull had to relent. Despite his hatred of Helleen, he knew the people loved her. Stepping back, he pulled a combat knife from his belt and shifted to a position on her blind side.

“You all know me. I have been an elected member of your governing Council since the beginning of our exile. I know of Hisspat Zeck. I know General Dunnbull. One tells the truth. The other would have you fight our new allies, our newfound friends. Who rescued us? Who brought our families to safety? General Dunnbull? No, it was the Humans. Whatsit grew up as an accepted member of Human society. Humans could have killed him, and yet they accepted him into their midst where he grew into a respected Chrysallaman. Humans are not our enemy.”

Her message rang true, and heads began nodding in agreement. The mob mentality faded. Dunnbull saw the change in attitude and knew he had to do something the silence the meddling female. Gripping his knife for an upward thrust, he stabbed at her unprotected back. His move was swift and direct. Just as the knife tip was about to plunge into Helleen’s back, a hand grabbed his arm. Twisting toward the source of the interference, Dunnbull came face-to-face with Whatsit.

Shifting his weight, Dunnbull tried to stab Whatsit, but his arm wouldn’t move. It felt like it was asleep. Someone in the crowd cried out in shock and pointed. Everyone’s eyes locked on the tableau. Turning to see what was happening behind her, Helleen couldn’t believe her eyes.

There was General Dunnbull, a seven-inch blade clutched in his hand, straining to move. Whatsit’s hand was blocking Dunnbull’s arm but it wasn’t his muscles keeping the knife arm still. Removing his hand, Whatsit glared at the General and moved his head in an upward movement.

In slow motion, the hand holding the knife raised and shifted the sharp tip backward until it began piercing the skin on the front of Dunnbull’s neck. His face red with strain, Dunnbull tried to regain physical control of his arm. He grabbed the knife holding arm with his free hand in an unsuccessful effort to deflect the blade. The knife tip pierced his throat. Half an inch. One inch. Dunnbull began coughing and blood sprayed from his mouth. Still the knife sank deeper. Seven inches. Still clutching the bloody knife handle, the blade buried to the hilt in his neck, Dunnbull toppled to the deck. Blood pooled around his mouth.

Everyone backed away from the death scene. Even Hisspat Zeck felt awed by Whatsit’s demonstration of sheer mental power. Chellsee pushed past Whatsit and hugged her mother.

The military personnel began chanting, “Whatsit! Whatsit! Whatsit!”

Soon the entire arena thundered his name, and Chellsee returned to wrap her arms around him.

Zeck knew he could never command the respect the people had for Whatsit. His old survival instincts surfaced, and the politician in him decided it was better to join the crowd.

In privacy mode, he telepathed to Whatsit, “They look to you as their Leader, but I don’t believe you want the job. I offer my services.”

Narrowing his eyes, Whatsit replied, “I will agree to let you play General but remember . . .”

Zeck felt his lungs freeze. He couldn’t suck air into his body. His diaphragm refused to move. He tried to turn away, tried to avert his eyes from Whatsit’s glare, but he couldn’t flinch a muscle. All at once his lungs were free, and he sucked air into his chest. Whatsit stiffened Zeck’s legs, preventing him from collapsing.

Finishing his sentence, Whatsit said, “. . .don’t cross me. Instead of a nice stab to the neck, I’ll start with the amputation of a more interesting part of your body.”

Hisspat’s scales lightened three shades as the import of Whatsit’s warning became clear.

***

Vultura hated to admit he was stumped, but the Human star-drive confounded him. He couldn’t duplicate the convoluted spirals in the ball-shaped structure nestled in the center of the mechanism.

The design appeared to mimic the genetic spiral of Human DNA, but whoever had formed the sphere had taken a long time to work out its intricacies. Vultura didn’t have the luxury of endless experimentation. Harrier demanded results and treated failure as a death sentence.

Vultura’s only hope for gaining a glimmer of understanding about the fundamentals of the drive rested with the injured Human named Longarrow. The creature was being treated for his injuries in the Gadwall sickbay. It had lost a lot of blood because of the unfortunate amputation of its arm by the military moron. He was doubtful he’d gain any useful information from Longarrow, but he had to try.

Ernest’s eyes whipped toward the door of his med suite as an Assid without a surgical mask walked through them. Vultura smiled at the array of special medical devices attached to the Human. It seemed his threat to behead anyone who didn’t keep the creature alive had been taken seriously.

“You can thank me later for saving your life,” Vultura said.

Broad, sturdy straps held Longarrow’s good arm, legs and torso to the bed. Bags with tubes fed unknown liquids into his body, and a multitude of wires and sensors trailed from his bare chest and good arm into an array of blinking, beeping electronic equipment.

“You must be insane if you expect me to thank you for what’s been done to me,” Longarrow replied.

Vultura was drawing back his hand to slap the ingrate when the door opened, and Hannah Wren entered followed by Emil Corvus. Corvus’ eyes narrowed to slits when he saw Vultura, and he walked to the bedside opposite from the white-haired scientist.

“I’m in the process of gathering important details about the Human star-drive, and your presence is a hindrance to my investigation,” Vultura growled.

Wren was past being civil. “Your investigation is at a standstill. I know it. General Harrier knows it. Dr. Corvus and I are the only ones who have any personal experience with the Humans. Any breakthroughs you’ve had are based upon the original discoveries by Dr. Corvus. Now back off and let us interrogate the animal.”

Pointing at Corvus, Vultura said, “This incompetent fool destroyed one of the only two working devices found on the Human saucer. If I hadn’t taken possession of the surviving orb, there’s no doubt he would have destroyed it as well.”

Corvus’ purple tinged irises almost disappeared as his eyes darkened with anger. His usual facade of intellectual snobbery disappeared.

“Vultura, you’ve always been a politician first and a scientist second. You forget I’ve known of you and your tactics since our early college days. In time of war, you can’t hide your mediocrity. The Colonel and I have dealt with these Humans before. We know they don’t respond to threats or coercion. Where you have failed to uncover their science, I will prevail.”

Vultura never got the chance to respond to the accusations. Wren gestured and two guards grabbed his arms and marched him out of the med bay.

“You will regret this act of treachery,” Vultura warned as the guards pushed him out the door.

Ernest remained silent both during and after the confrontation. Wren joined Corvus and gestured again to a nurse who’d been standing in the shadows of the room. Strutting forward, she prepared a hypodermic filled with a greenish-yellow liquid and grabbed Ernest’s arm.

Wren said, “Our experience with your fellow Humans suggests the only certain method of gaining your cooperation is through indirect means. You’re going to be injected with a chemical cocktail designed to disconnect your brain from all conscious thought processes. Under its influence, you will become quite pliable, answering any question we ask with complete truthfulness. The only drawbacks from your point of view are the side effects like diarrhea, hives and tongue-swelling. The good news is the brain damage will mask the most serious side effects.”

“Don’t be alarmed,” Corvus smirked as he nodded toward the hypodermic. “You need this sedative to offset your metabolism spike from the RU363 serum injection. Otherwise your physical pain would be excruciating.”

Longarrow tried to pull away from the needle, but the straps held him in an unbreakable grip. The nurse was just about to thrust the tip into his arm when the room shuddered. Alarm klaxons began sounding, and Wren stabbed at the intercom button.

“This is Colonel Wren. Report.”

“Something has invaded the ship. There was no impact, but sensors indicate the mass of the ship has increased beyond the ability of our lightspeed engine to offset it. Damage control teams have been dispatched. The locus of the anomaly is somewhere in the midsection of decks 3 to 8.

“Keep me advised,” Wren ordered.

As she left the room, she said, “Don’t dose him until I return. I won’t be long.”