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

Lieutenant General Thomas James Blunt slid onto the stainless-steel bench of the picnic table to enjoy his lunch in the spacious cafeteria serving the Nevada Command Center of FORCE. It was 1215 hours on Thursday, April 10, 2014. The week had been a routine mix of month-end reviews from March and some editing to the presentation he was to give to the Joint Chiefs of Staff in Washington on April 15. The level of tension in the Joint Chiefs and the National Security Council grew every day now that 67 years had passed since the shoot down of the Chrysallaman saucer. Their increasing apprehension was well-founded.

Thinking about the time frame for the Chrysallaman invasion, Tom munched on his sandwich and reviewed what he knew. The original best guess on the probable return of the Chrysallamans had been 65 to 70 years. Whatsit had been definite about his home planet being 30 light-years from Earth. As a result, the round trip was simple to calculate. 60 years. The unknown element in the calculation was the time span needed by the race of sentient lizards to prepare an invasion force. The considered opinion of the best military strategists and civilian scientists back in 1948, hand-picked by General Matt Collier, then head of the Strategic Invasion Planning Department or SIP, had boiled down to a period of 5 to 10 years before the Chrysallamans would be prepared to embark on the return journey to Earth with their invasion fleet. Tom’s father and mother, Jim Blunt and Diane Hoffman, had been trusted members of the SIP task force, so Tom’s information about the projected time frame had come from reliable sources.

SIP’s elite task force had realized an early warning system was crucial to the defense of Earth, and as a result, General Collier had persuaded President Richard Nixon to fund the development of a long-range communications module. The space probe, Pioneer 10, had been launched from Cape Canaveral on March 2, 1972. Anyone reading its mission statement understood it was supposed to fly toward the planet Jupiter, taking photos along the way of Mars and the asteroid belt. After orbiting close enough to study the environment around Jupiter, the probe was designed to attain enough velocity to escape our Solar System and fly off into uncharted space.

Contrary to popular belief, Pioneer 10′s real purpose was to act as an early warning system for the alien invasion. Its trajectory, as it flew past Jupiter, aimed it squarely at the Chrysallaman home star system. The theory was if the probe detected any large objects in deep space coming toward our Solar System at or near the speed of light, it would transmit a warning back to Earth about the in-coming threat. The SIP task force believed any transmitted warning from the probe would reach Earth well before the Chrysallaman threat, providing some modicum of time to prepare defenses.

Continued worry about the Chrysallamans doing something sneaky like approaching our Solar System from trajectories not aligned in a direct route from their planet, Chrysalis, influenced SIP to arrange for the Voyager 1 and 2 probes which launched from Cape Canaveral on August 20 and September 5, 1977. The general public was told the new probes would explore the outlying planets Saturn, Uranus and Neptune. The true Voyager trajectories made them interlock with Pioneer 10, creating a cone of sensors guarding a wide volume of space encompassing the most probable lines of invasion by the Chrysallamans. The wide mouth of the cone funneled any significant sensor readings back toward Earth in powerful bursts of digital information that were analyzed and catalogued by computers at the Nevada facility.

“Yes,” Tom thought. “It’s been 67 long years since the Chrysallaman saucer was shot from the sky. Unless the lizards are particularly timid or incompetent, the probability of their return is growing daily.”

The Federal Organization for Response to Celestial Enemies or F.O.R.C.E. had been created by Congress in 1981 as the official agency charged with defending the United States against dangerous alien races. At the time, many Congressmen considered the new agency a flamboyant effort by newly elected President Ronald Reagan to pander to his fringe base in his home state of California. In reality, Reagan had been convinced after his meeting with General Jim Blunt, Whatsit, Dr. Diane Hoffman, Dr. John Heinbaum and Captain Jerome McPherson that if he didn’t get the agency created and funded, the United States could be at the mercy of bloodthirsty alien lizards.

On December 1, 1981, General Collier had been appointed by President Reagan to be the first commander of FORCE. Reagan wanted continuity between the old SIP and the new agency. Collier had appointed Tom as his Aide-de-Camp. Young Tom had been working with Heinbaum and McPherson in the development and testing of new applications for the Heinbaum Kinetic Generators and had proven to be quick-witted and calm under stress.

One of Tom’s earliest recommendations had been to create an eye in the sky. Conceiving a high orbit satellite capable of monitoring a wide swath of space surrounding Earth, plans were set in motion and on April 24, 1990, NASA orbited what was known to the public as the Hubble Telescope.

Ostensibly designed as a space-based telescope for discovery of neighboring stars and galaxies, the real purpose of the Hubble was as an ultra-sensitive radio receiver for transmissions from the early warning probes. In addition to radio transmissions, specialized equipment on the Hubble constantly observed the heavens, monitoring light waves in the ultraviolet, visible and infrared light spectra, searching for any evidence of intelligent life.

Advances in computer control and encrypted digital communications enabled FORCE to weaponize the Hubble. During a maintenance flight to the satellite by NASA Astronauts in December, 1993, officially described as a necessary repair to a faulty lens in one of its telescopes, a powerful set of offensive weapons including cutter rays and heat beams were installed on the platform, all powered by a Heinbaum Kinetic Generator.

Collier retired in 1995 and Colonel Tom Blunt was the obvious choice to take over command of FORCE. Tom chuckled as he recalled the private ceremony when President Bill Clinton had confirmed him as the new commander of FORCE and elevated him to the rank of Brigadier General. Clinton had never met Whatsit and was fascinated by the black and white sombrero with intricately beaded decorations Whatsit had chosen for the occasion. The President had instructed his aides to find him an audacious sombrero, and he had several photos with Whatsit and him, arm in arm, sipping mai-tais.

Tom had eaten half his sandwich when a young corporal walked up and saluted.

Seeing his excited look, Tom knew something important had happened, “Yes, Corporal?”

“Sir, we have uninvited guests.”

“Location and trajectory?”

“One-half light-year from Pioneer 10 on a direct course for our Solar System.”

Trotting out of the cafeteria and down the hallway leading to his office, Tom ordered, “Transfer the latest reports from Pioneer 10 to my server. Arrange a staff meeting for one hour from now.”

Bursting into the reception area of his office, Tom looked at the startled face of his secretary, Madelyn Amsley, and said, “Call the President. Get him off the golf course if necessary. Tell him this is a Code Red Celestial alert.”

“Yes, Sir!”

Madelyn Amsley looked like an efficient, no nonsense school teacher. She was a 35-year old African-American a little over 4 feet tall. She wore oval-shaped, steel-rimmed reading glasses. Whenever she took them off, they hung from her neck by a black, jeweled cord attached to the temple covers. Her hair was always gathered in a bun pinned at the back of her head.

Tom opened his inner office door and plopped into his high-backed leather chair. Activating his computer screen, he opened the information logs received from Pioneer 10.

The logs showed a large object approaching Earth’s Solar System at 99% of lightspeed. The moment the computers at Nevada received the alert from the Pioneer probe, instructions had been transmitted to Voyagers 1 and 2, ordering their computers to maneuver into a position where they could triangulate on the incoming object. The triangulation would provide more accurate information on the location, actual trajectory and number of objects coming our way. Unfortunately, due to the distance from Earth to the Voyagers, which were now well past the orbit of Pluto, the time for a roundtrip radio transmission to the Voyagers and response from them with information about the triangulation was 12 hours.

Tom’s musings were interrupted by Amsley. “Staff is here and ready.”

“Thank you,” Tom replied, and he walked to the inner office door leading to his conference room.

The Staff Conference room was a large, rectangular space. Special LED lights recessed in the ceiling had been dimmed to illuminate the room just enough to permit comfortable viewing of the bank of computer monitors suspended above the conference table. The walls of the room were a neutral color and unadorned with anything that might distract its occupants from the business at hand. The conference table was round. Tom favored the concept of treating his team as Knights of the Round Table in a nod to the tales of King Arthur. Even though Tom made the final decision, everyone seated at the table knew their opinions carried equal weight as he considered his options.

The general buzz of conversation silenced when Tom stepped into the room. Taking his seat, Tom took a moment to look around the table and review why he’d chosen each person to be a member of his General Staff.

Colonel Jason Stoneman was a Navy Seal Commander with special expertise in chemical and biological warfare. He’d joined the Navy after earning a Bachelor’s Degree in Chemistry from the University of Texas. His physical and mental test scores had placed him in an elite group of recruits coveted by the Navy Seals who scooped him up and rigorously trained and molded the man into a dedicated and competent naval officer. Within seven years from enlistment, Stoneman had risen to be a Task Unit Commander with tours of duty in Iran and Afghanistan. On one of his missions, Stoneman had dispatched six Taliban soldiers single-handed, suffering only a deep knife cut in his left cheek. He always said the scar on his cheek was there to remind him to move quicker. Stoneman was close to 6 feet 2 inches tall and kept his head shaved. He had piercing brown eyes and an upturned nose hinting of Irish ancestry. He was in charge of all sea-based offensive and defensive facilities.

Seated next to Stoneman was Major Amanda Kurstow. She had volunteered for the Marine Corps right after graduation from High School and had been sent to Officers Candidate School two years later. Specializing in high yield explosives triggered by what she referred to as esoterica, she once fashioned a bomb made from a ball point pen ink refill. The pen had a polymer covering reacting only in the presence of a specific DNA sequence. The vile son of an Iranian dictator was handed the pen to sign the death warrants of several Kurdish citizens. The explosion left little to bury. On one mission to destroy a secret North Korean submarine base operating out of Barents Sea, she and her team had been dropped on an ice floe seven miles from the submarine compound. They’d used scuba gear designed for subzero underwater assaults and mini-subs powered by Heinbaum Kinetic Generators to reach their objective and attach magnetized high-yield explosives to the keels of three nuclear powered ballistic missile submarines. The explosives had been equipped with detonators triggered when the subs reached depths of 600 feet. Needless to say, the subs mysteriously sank soon after they left the hidden base. Kurstow had deep blue eyes and hair so light blonde it almost appeared white. Her thick-set body was composed of a 6 feet of weathered skin covering the solid bone and muscle profile of a professional weightlifter. Kurstow was in charge of all land-based offensive and defensive facilities.

Sitting to Tom’s right was Colonel Alexander Fields, an African-American who’d graduated from the U.S. Airforce Academy with a degree in aircraft design. He had trained as an Airforce pilot. After ten years of air campaigns in the Middle East and Northern Africa, he had thousands of combat hours in F-16 fighters. As the result of his experience as a combat pilot, Fields had been tapped as Airforce Liaison to Lockheed Martin for expert advice in the design of the F-35 Lightning fighter. Fields was somewhat taller than 5 feet 6 inches and looked 10 years younger than his current age of 42. His hair was close cropped, and he kept a well-groomed goatee because he thought it made him look older and wiser. Fields was in charge of all air combat units.

The last person seated at the table was Major Rebecca Mae Chang, a vivacious sprite with coal-black hair she wore in a complex twisting loop at the back of her head. Other than her last name, the only outward sign of her Chinese heritage was her almond-shaped black eyes which sparkled as if illuminated by some internal flame. Becky Chang was Tom’s administrative brain trust. She handled all of his admin duties, keeping the daily humdrum minutia of running FORCE off his back so he could concentrate on larger issues like building the network and facilities necessary for defense against the coming invasion. Becky had a double major in Psychology and Sociology from Princeton University. She was expert with a bow and arrow, and in her senior year at Princeton had won the 1989 United States Intercollegiate Archery Championship.

Clasping his hands, Tom said, “Thank you all for coming here on such short notice, but the urgency of my news is of paramount importance. Less than 1 hour ago, Hubble received a burst transmission from Pioneer 10 alerting it had detected a large object traveling at or near lightspeed on a trajectory toward our Solar System.”

Pausing to let the meaning of his words sink in, he said, “Voyagers 1 and 2 were instructed to re-align in order to triangulate on the incoming object and provide more detailed analysis. Due to the distances involved, it will be over 12 hours before we have additional data.”

Fields was the first to respond, “Should we issue an immediate alert to all our teams or wait for confirmation?”

Kurstow interrupted, “I believe we need to go on alert at once. Based on every projection I’m aware of, the object coming at us is on schedule for the return of the lizards. Now think about the speeds we’re dealing with from these alien spacecraft. At lightspeed, once the Chrysallamans cross the orbit of Pluto they’ll be within 5 hours of Earth. We can’t afford the luxury of waiting for information from the triangulation.”

In a measured voice, Stoneman inquired, “General, what was the distance from Pioneer 10 to the detected object?”

“The distance was calculated as a half light-year.”

“Then I would cut that calculation in half as a safety factor and say we have 3 months to prepare our teams for the arrival. I see no reason to jump to full alert until we have confirmation from the Voyagers,” Stoneman responded, looking around the table to see if anyone agreed with him.

Seeing quick nods from Kurstow and Fields, Blunt looked at Becky Chang and asked, “Major Chang, you’re being unusually quiet. What say you?”

Becky had been perusing the log information from Pioneer 10 while the others were talking. Lowering her dark eyes from the monitor screen above her, she gazed at Tom and said, “The sensors built into Pioneer 10 are based on 70′s technology. Heck, back then we still had 8-track tapes and computer memories boasting 128KB. I hesitate to place unquestioning reliance on the Pioneer reports. The purpose of the Voyagers was to backup and verify Pioneer.”

Pulling her cellphone from her pocket and laying it on the table, she continued, “My cellphone has more computing power and memory than the Apollo Lunar Landers and most university mainframes through the mid-80′s. Even though it may be worrisome to delay, I think we should wait the 12 hours to see if the Voyagers confirm the initial findings of Pioneer.”

Tom trusted the instincts of his Staff and decided to wait for the responses of the Voyagers before moving to a higher alert status for his FORCE Defense Network; however, his gut was screaming it was time to move forward with the Water System Protocol.

Pulling a USB mini thumb-drive from his pocket, Tom inserted it into a slot on his keyboard and typed in the 16-character password to open an encrypted file folder which popped up on his monitor. Then he strolled over to a credenza and picked up a tray holding an acrylic pitcher of clear water and 5 glasses. Settling back in his seat with the tray in front of him, Tom pulled a glass vial from his shirt pocket, emptied its contents into the pitcher of water and stirred with a spoon. Seeing the curious looks on everyone’s faces, he filled the glasses and passed them around.

“I’m going to tell you about one of the most closely guarded secrets the United States Government has ever kept. It involves the original task force of experts chosen by General Matthew Collier back in 1948 to devise a plan to save the United States and the World from destruction at the hands of the Chrysallamans. The panel chose a two-part course of action to prepare for the invasion.”

“The first course of action was to reverse engineer the portable power modules, cutter ray and heat ray that represented the principal weaponry of the aliens. Dr. Heinbaum and Lieutenant Jerome McPherson, working together in an initially stormy relationship that later became a close friendship, were able to duplicate the alien technology and then go one step further with the invention of the Heinbaum Kinetic Generator. We believe the kinetic generator represents a quantum leap forward in providing limitless energy. The problem with kinetic energy is that it can only be used within 500 miles of a moving, planetary-size body of significant mass, and the power generated decreases exponentially as the generator orbits farther away from the planet. We simply can’t build space ships powered by the kinetic generators.”

Seeing agreement on the faces of his Staff, Tom continued, “Planning the general defense of Earth from a technologically superior alien race determined to conquer and enslave or kill all Humans requires an intricate combination of weaponry and people. The original analysis by Lieutenant McPherson on the best way to defend against the invasion was reviewed and accepted by a team of military masterminds assembled by FORCE. McPherson was prophetic with his strategy. Even with all the advances mankind has made in technology and computer design over the last 67 years, the ability of Humans to defend against a race of beings with sophisticated space ships is still non-existent.”

“The Chrysallamans have an unlimited amount of room in which to maneuver. Earth defenders are bound in one place; sitting ducks on a planet with no place to run or hide. Since we can’t fight a war in space, there is no viable choice but to let the Chrysallamans land their major forces on Earth and wait for them to get comfortable with their takeover of the defenseless Humans. Once we feel the timing is right, FORCE will initiate a coordinated attack, wiping out as many of the aliens as possible and capturing or destroying their equipment.”

Tom steepled his fingers, “However, weaponry can’t be our only option for defense. Based upon the reports from the 1947 capture of the saucer, the lizards wear some kind of armor protecting them from small arms fire and enhancing their physical strength. One soldier was picked up and his arm torn off. My own father, James Blunt, was mind-controlled by a young Whatsit. We have years of firsthand experience with the powers of Whatsit. As members of my Staff, each of you was subjected to his mind control so you could experience what we’re up against.”

“What’s the second course of action the committee decided to implement?” Stoneman asked.

“This is where things get a little more interesting,” Tom replied.

Watching a range of emotions playing across the faces of his staff, Tom smiled. He recalled the time his parents had visited him after President Clinton appointed him commander of FORCE. His mother had been all proud smiles and teary eyes as she hugged him. His father had given him a powerful bear hug that bowed Tom’s ribs. Tom distinctly remembered wondering how his father could be so unbelievably strong at the ripe old age of 65.

His parents had taken him to lunch to celebrate his new position. His mother had poured a clear liquid in his iced tea, telling him it was some new vitamins she was thinking about marketing. Tom had become sick with the flu that afternoon, and his parents had insisted on staying with him, nursing him through the severe aches and pains he suffered through the night. The next day, everything in his life changed. The mental and physical abilities he gained were astounding. Now it was time to bring his staff into the reality of the second course of action.

Raising his water glass in a toast, he said, “To the success of our defense of the planet Earth.”

With those words, he drank every drop of his water and placed the empty glass on the conference table. Each member of his staff did likewise and then looked expectantly for an explanation of the second course of action.

With a relaxed look, Tom said, “Everyone sit back and relax. I want to take you somewhere.”

In that instant, Stoneman, Kurstow, Fields and Chang found themselves on a windswept ice floe under a leaden sky. Open water surrounded them on three sides, and as far as they could see, broken ice of varying sizes floated in the choppy water. A sharp, stinging wind whistled past their ears, and their faces felt icy-cold. Waves crashed against the low ice wall to their left, splashing to a wind born mist which quickly froze to their eyelashes. Looking at each other incredulously, they were startled when an enormous, dark-brown walrus, with tusks over 16 inches long, crawled from the sea onto a low lying lip of the ice floe and stared at them with beady eyes. Bellowing a warning, the walrus flopped back into the churning ocean and disappeared.

They all turned to look at Tom Blunt who stood on the ice floe with his arms crossed, an enigmatic smile on his lips. He ignored the biting wind and stinging mist of ice crystals thrown into the air by the crashing waves.

Chang was the first to speak and shouted so she could be heard over the wind, “General Blunt, you could have chosen to demonstrate the new transporter beam by sending us to a nice warm beach instead of this God forsaken place!”

Kurstow had a puzzled look, and Tom asked, “Major Kurstow, you have experience with this sort of climate don’t you?”

With a troubled look in her eyes, Kurstow said, “This place looks vaguely familiar, but the walrus,” and she pointed toward the place where the beast had dived back into the ocean, “I’ve seen him before. I’m sure of it. On my mission to destroy the North Korean submarines, my team had mini-subs to transport us to the submarine base. We encountered a large walrus who apparently thought the mini-subs were other walrus encroaching on his territory. We had to shock it with our electric prods to force it to leave us alone.”

Stoneman and Fields were walking around the perimeter of the ice floe trying to determine the best way to reach a high point where they could reconnoiter their surroundings. Fields looked over at Tom and shouted, “If we’re going to be here for any length of time, we better find some shelter. None of us can survive very much longer in this cold.”

Suddenly everyone was back in their seats at the conference room table. Nothing from the icy environment remained, not even the thickening ice rime on their eyelashes. Stoneman jumped from his chair and backed away from the table, wearing a look of wide-eyed surprise. Kurstow and Chang had frowns etched on their faces and shifted their eyes to look at Tom, their sullen gazes half angry and half accusatory.

Only Fields had a look of pure excitement. Looking Tom squarely in the eyes, he pounded the flat of his hand on the tabletop and exclaimed, “That was so cool! Take me again! Wow!”

When he slapped the top of the desk, both Kurstow and Chang jumped in their seats and shifted their glare to him. It was probably lucky for Fields neither of the women had a gun, or he might have ended up in the hospital.

Tom gestured for Stoneman to take his seat and tried to decide how best to begin his explanation. Finally nodding with a half-smile, Tom said, “What you have just experienced was my telepathic control of your minds. This is just one of the unique abilities each of you has lying dormant in your genetics.”

Tom could tell the Arctic experience he had dredged from Kurstow’s memories had been a profound shock. Well, to everyone except Alex. So far his explanation was met with complete silence.

Pushing the Enter key, Tom opened the highlighted pdf file from the thumb drive and displayed it on all the monitors. A revolving DNA strand appeared on the screens with various gene sequences colored in brilliant reds, greens, yellows and blues, moving to replace existing genetic patterns. His Staff stared, mesmerized by what they saw.

“Do any of you remember being given the standard polio vaccine when you were kids? Perhaps some boosters as you got older to build your immunity to the disease?”

A couple of heads nodded, and he continued, “What you didn’t know was every dose of the polio vaccine carried with it a dormant virus which if activated is designed to impart the unique powers and abilities the Human race needs if we have any chance of defeating the Chrysallamans.”

Stoneman had regained a modicum of his composure and asked in a low voice, “Just what are these unique powers you speak of?”

“Telepathy, mind control, the strength of 20 men, ultra-keen vision and bat-like sonic hearing.”

Chang thought, “Okay, General Blunt, why don’t you tell me what I’m thinking about right now. My mother always told me I had inherited my father’s inscrutable Chinese mind, so tell me, Tommy-Boy, if you can decipher my thoughts. I like the color purple and my mother’s birthday is September 23, 1951.”

With an ‘I’ve got you now’ defiant look in her dark, almond-shaped eyes, Becky crossed her arms and stared at Tom.

Turning from Jason to Becky, Tom said, “Major Chang, your mind is not as inscrutable as you believe. Your favorite color is purple, and your mother’s birthday is September 23, 1951. And please don’t refer to me as Tommy-Boy ever again.”

For the first time in her life, Rebecca Mae Chang was rendered speechless. Her eyes became so round they almost lost their beautiful, almond shape. She kept her mouth closed and her thoughts to herself for the remainder of the meeting.

“So what’s the next step?” Alex asked. “How is this dormant virus activated?”

“You’ve all been given the activating chemical.”

Looking at the shocked expressions, he said, “You are to report from this room to the infirmary. I’ve arranged special medical suites for each of you. Expect a rough night, but by tomorrow each of you will be fully active and ready to begin practicing your new abilities. I need all of you fully prepared because if the Voyagers confirm the Pioneer report, we’ll need to begin the activation process for every person on Earth.”