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

“The last Asiddian battleship has been destroyed,” Lloyd announced. “Analysis of debris fields on the Planet’s surface confirms. All Bowlers have returned to Destinnee and been placed in stand-by mode. Operation Candlestick is an unqualified success.”

“Cease VIEW mode,” Tom ordered. “Based upon our observations, the Asiddians are no longer an orbital threat. Intel from the Chrysallaman Underground indicates the Assids relied upon space-born superiority to defeat uprisings and didn’t construct any significant land based defensive or offensive structures. Their shortsightedness will work against them.”

“Despite my doubts, the hollowing strategy was a success,” GooYee observed. “I thought Heiny’s reliance on McPherson’s suggestions about the military applications of FLIT technology was misguided. Perhaps my assessment was premature.”

“I have found the big oaf cunning in suggesting uses for my discoveries,” Heinbaum replied.

“I was speaking of you,” GooYee said.

Heinbaum’s blank look at the remark turned to red-faced rage when McPherson laughed so hard he spurted coffee out his nose.

With tears of glee running down his face, the Scottish bear said, “Ya know, Heiny, Gooey has a point. The more you listen to me, the less misguided you are.”

“Go ahead and have your fun, you Scottish hyena. There will come a time you’ll regret treating me with such distain. Mark my words,” Heinbaum warned.

“Stop clowning around. Your personal beefs can wait. I need ideas for driving the Assids off Chrysalis, and if you don’t have something constructive to say, then keep your mouths shut,” Blunt said.

“Very well. Based upon my observations, the Asiddian commander exhibits quintessential military thinking. Killing and big explosions equal victory. He must have graduated from the same school as McPherson,” Heinbaum sniffed. “So bourgeois.”

“Bourgeois or not, he’s dangerous, Heiny,” McPherson replied. “He punched his one-way ticket to Hell when he killed Amanda without blinking an eye. I’m going to make sure he’s on the train.”

“What does public transportation have to do with it?” GooYee asked.

“Shut up,” Heinbaum and McPherson said.

At that moment, Whatsit, Chellsee and Hisspat Zeck walked through the hatch with Emperor Horcunt. Tom had asked them to bring the Emperor to help plan the palace assault, but Horcunt thought the absence of Asiddian battleships meant his planet was saved.

Spotting the familiar greenish-white cloud swirls of Chrysalis on the viewscreen, the Ruler straightened his back and declared, “Excellent. Chrysalis doesn’t appear to have suffered during my absence. It pleases me to see you have dispatched the Asiddian spacecraft from orbit for which you have my gratitude. I’m pleased you didn’t waste my time with boring war games. Watching repetitious explosions is most tedious. I’d much rather spend my time relaxing in a hot bath.”

Horcunt’s remark angered Chellsee and before Whatsit could stop her, she slapped him. “Over half the population died when you fled to HG-281.”

The Emperor tried to back away from her and bumped up against Zeck. His former General kept him from losing his balance, and the old man smoothed down the front of his robes in an attempt to regain his dignity.

“You shall be put to death for striking your Sovereign,” Horcunt admonished. “My people will welcome me with flowers and pungent oils. They’ll shower me with loving admiration, and my first act will be to order your execution.”

“Well said,” Zeck agreed. “No one, especially a low-born commoner, should lay a hand on the Supreme Leader of our people.”

Hearing those words ended any tolerance Whatsit had left. Stepping between Chellsee and the Emperor, he swung a straight jab into Horcunt’s mouth. There was an audible crunch, and the old lizard fell over. His mandible skewed at an odd angle where the blow broke it. Horcunt was going to spend the next three months with his jaw wired shut. Whatsit was drawing back to swing at Zeck when Chellsee grabbed him.

“I don’t need your help,” she growled.

“I wasn’t trying to help you. I was afraid you’d kill the old geezer. I didn’t want his death on your conscience so I took him out of the equation. Was going to do the same with Zeck.”

Hesitating for a moment to consider his explanation, Chellsee’s eyes softened and she grumbled, “Maybe I’ll forgive you this time but don’t interfere with me again . . . ever.”

“Yes ma’am. Whatever you say.”

“In my day no Chrysallaman male would tolerate such female behavior. The punishment would be swift,” Zeck replied.

Chellsee whirled and landed a roundhouse kick against the side of Zeck’s head. With a surprised look frozen on his face, he joined Horcunt on the deck.

“Let’s start fighting Asiddians and not ourselves,” Tom sighed.

***

“Where is the Princess?” Harrier demanded as he deleted the last data folder from his computer.

“Her shuttle landed on the palace grounds two hours ago. No one has seen her since she entered her private quarters,” replied the stiff-backed orderly.

“Has there been any contact from Colonel Wren?”

“None, Sir. The command ship Gadwall was one of the first destroyed. She’s presumed dead.”

Harrier picked up a heavy glass paperweight and threw it across the room where it shattered. A cloud of glass dust and splinters hazed the air.

“Get my personal battleship ready for liftoff. As soon as the Princess is aboard, I’m abandoning this garbage planet for home. It may take years, but when I return I’ll make sure the Universe is freed from the stink of Chrysallamans and their Human allies.”

Watching the orderly back out of his office, Harrier tapped his intercom button and said, “Vultura, have you finished moving your lab to the Thorncutter?”

“Yes, I’m in the process of installing the new ray emitters into the spines. I’ll have the project completed and tested in two hours.”

“You have one hour. It will take me that long to gather up the Princess and her entourage. Harrier out.”

Looking out his balcony window for the last time, Harrier cursed the Humans. Yellowish-white smoke from the burning wrecks of 30 battleships still hazed the atmosphere.

Slamming his fist on his desk, Harrier thought, “I should have killed the Human leader, Blunt, when I had the chance. If I get the opportunity again . . .”

***

Harrier’s pace down the marble tiled floor of the broad hallway matched his determined look. Direct, no-nonsense, don’t get in my way. Twenty armored commandos with weapons at the ready followed him.

Harrier’s personal guards were maniacal stone-cold killers. Not one drop of emotion showed in their black eyes. It had taken him years to find the right female soldiers for the job. One of the primary qualifications was a psych evaluation finding each one was as an antisocial narcissist with an Oedipus complex.

He had taken great pains to position himself as the father image to all of them. Their twisted love for him was psychotic. They’d do anything he ordered.

The Palace guards standing watch at the ornate door of the Princess’ private quarters backed away when Harrier confronted them. The look on his face coupled with the threat of twenty disintegrator rifles pointed at their chests made the decision easy.

Turning his head toward his platoon leader, he ordered, “Remain here at the ready, Lieutenant Ani. No one is to enter this room.”

Ignoring protocol, Harrier didn’t knock. He twisted the door handle and entered the chambers. Closing the door behind him, Harrier let his eyes adjust to the darkness. It was quiet except for the slight breathing noises coming from the bed area. The only light came through wispy curtains pulled across the windows on either side of the king-sized sleeper at the far end of the room.

After the harrowing days following her kidnapping, Harrier was sure the Princess needed rest, but she could relax in her quarters aboard his battleship. Crossing the room, silent as a wraith, Harrier watched her for a moment. He couldn’t help but imagine what it would be like to share the bed with her, but pleasure would have to wait for another time.

Speaking in soft tones wasn’t how he normally conducted business, but when dealing with a sleeping Princess, it was prudent.

“Your Majesty, please wake up,” he whispered.

There was a slight stirring and then the expected, startled jump.

“Who’s there? How dare you enter my chambers without permission?”

“I’m sorry to wake you, Princess, but we have to leave this planet. The Humans have destroyed our fleet, and I have no choice but to return home for reinforcements. You must get up, get dressed and come with me.”

“General Harrier?” she asked.

“Sounds awful, Caroline, but I think another 15 minutes or so wouldn’t hurt . . . . too much.”

“Oh stop it, Silly,” she cooed. Then in a more direct manner she said, “General, I’m in the middle of some intense negotiations. Check back in 15 minutes . . . or so. Now get out!”

Harrier couldn’t believe his ears. Fumbling with the lamp on the bed table, he found the switch. There was Princess Peregrine snuggled up with the Human, Miguel Roemer. She was nestled in his arms, and it was obvious he wasn’t restrained.

Pulling his pistol, Harrier’s eyes turned to slits as he pointed it at the couple. “Get away from her.”

“General Harrier, you are relieved of command. Put that weapon away, and leave my chambers this instant,” Caroline demanded.

“No. Your insanity makes you unfit to rule and the only reason I don’t kill you now is to provide live evidence to the Emperor of your treachery. Now put on your clothes. You’re coming with me.”

Glaring at Miguel, he said, “Get away from her. I should blast you now, but I don’t want your entrails squirting everywhere. It would take too long to clean her off.”

“Don’t,” Caroline pleaded. “He won’t shoot as long as you’re near me.”

Miguel studied the look in Harrier’s eyes for only a moment, “Oh yes he will. The man is first a homicidal maniac and second a General. He’ll spray me all over you and laugh while you scream.”

Kissing her lips for the last time, Miguel slipped from the covers and stood by the bed. The look of fear and desperation in Caroline’s eyes amused the General. Thinking some evidence wouldn’t hurt, he took a photograph of the scene with his communicator. Nothing like a pic to verify the insanity of a daughter to her Emperor father.

“Don’t worry about your lover,” Harrier said to Miguel as he put the communicator back on his belt. “I’ll take good care of her.”

Angered by the inferred meaning, Miguel took a step toward Harrier, but the General moved back and pointed his pistol at Caroline.

“Don’t come any closer, or she dies. I know how strong you are. Your Commander Blunt almost amputated my trigger finger, and it’s still a little stiff.” With those words, he swung the barrel at Roemer and pulled the trigger. Caroline screamed.

A reddish-yellow haze enveloped Miguel, absorbing the death ray. It took a moment for his brain to register his PDS was working. In that split second, Harrier released the trigger and looked down at his pistol to see if it was somehow damaged. Realizing his lover was unprotected, Miguel dove at Caroline and covered her as best he could. Harrier followed the movement and fired a withering beam of destruction along Roemer’s path. Again the yellow-red haze absorbed the beam.

Keeping himself between Harrier and Caroline, Miguel moved for the pistol.

Scared for the second time in his life by a Human, Harrier ran for the door and into the hallway. His startled guards surrounded him facing outwards.

Visibly shaking, Harrier took some deep breaths to calm down. “The Princess isn’t coming with us. Let’s go. I want off this cursed planet.”

***

“How long before you can return to my lab?” Heinbaum asked. “This healing nonsense is fouling up my schedule.”

Longarrow raised the stump of his arm and replied, “Doc, I’m lucky to be alive and back on the Destinnee. Besides, what help would I be? A one-armed lab assistant won’t do you any good.”

“Stop your whining,” Heinbaum admonished. “I don’t have time to train a replacement for you. Gooey has been telling me of a cybernetic enhancement controlled by telepathy. Dr. HannBrr is perusing the Chrysallaman database as we speak to find the applicable research. Your new arm should be ready in a few weeks.”

“Even if you make me a new arm, it’ll probably take me weeks to learn how to use it,” Ernest frowned.

“I wouldn’t worry about a minor detail like that,” Heinbaum replied with a twinkle in his eye. “The hardest part will be getting used to the green, scaly lizard appearance.”

Longarrow’s incredulous reply was cut short by McPherson’s arrival. “Glad to have you back my friend. I was worried I’d be stuck in the lab all alone with old geezer Heiny.”

“I’m not the one whose favorite tune is Glenn Miller’s rendition of Chattanooga Choo Choo,” Heinbaum replied. “You forget I’ve had to listen to your tone-deaf whistle of it for years.”

“Anything to drown out your constant prattle,” McPherson shot back.

Lloyd interrupted the growing argument. “Captain McPherson. Dr. Heinbaum. I am receiving an urgent message from Dr. Roemer. The transmission is on an Asiddian radio frequency, but voice-print analysis confirms his identity.”

“Well don’t waste time,” Heinbaum admonished. “Pipe him through this instant.”

“Dr. Heinbaum. Captain McPherson. This is Miguel Roemer. Do you read me?”

“Miguel, old fella. I figured you for dead. The last time I saw ya, Princess Caroline was haulin’ ya around on a leash,” McPherson said. “You okay?”

“Yes. Caroline and I have patched up our differences, but that’s not important right now. General Harrier just tried to kill us. He’s gone berserk, and she thinks he’ll escape in his personal warship. It was hidden somewhere nearby. It’s rumored an Asiddian scientist named Vultura is installing a version of our MA ray on it.”

“Not to worry, dear fellow,” Heinbaum replied smugly. “The Destinnee defensive screen is designed to withstand a MA beam. We’ll be perfectly safe.”

“You don’t understand,” Miguel said. “Vultura wasn’t able to duplicate our MA beam or power source. He designed an analogous beam operating on a different frequency and powered by three fusion generators in sequence. Our PDS won’t identify it as a threat.”

***

Heinbaum called an emergency meeting, and after Lloyd played a recording of Miguel’s warning, the mood in the lab was dark.

Dr. HannBrr said, “Why not adjust the shield to deflect all forms of radiation. A simple matter I could accomplish in 30 minutes.”

“You realize, of course, one of the fundamental forms of radiation is light. I don’t think it wise to blind ourselves,” Heinbaum muttered.

“The only way to create a shield is to have a sample of the new beam for analysis,” GooYee said.

“I say we lob a set of Bowlers at ’em and take out their fusion generators. Just like we did with the other 30 or so battleships,” McPherson offered.

“We don’t know the location of the beam generators. They could be anywhere in the 71 million cubic feet of the thing. We don’t have time to search,” Dr. Mkkell said.

“Then send in the Porcupine and FLIT them 200 light years away. You guys are making the solution way too difficult,” McPherson replied.

“It takes at least one minute for the antennas to reach the point of extension permitting transport,” GooYee said. “We’ll be targeted and fired upon in perhaps five seconds. The FLIT would rid us of the Asiddians, but we wouldn’t be around to celebrate. The only survivors would be those aboard the Porcupine.”

“I don’t like unsolvable riddles,” McPherson said. “We don’t have a way to get a sample unless we’re fired upon. Any contact with the beam could be devastating. If the beam hits the right place, or wrong one depending on your point of view, we’ll be damaged or destroyed before ever having the time for analysis,” McPherson grumbled.

“Say that again,” Heinbaum said.

“Say what again?” McPherson asked. “We’ll be destroyed before ever having the time for analysis.”

“I once said you were a clever bastard. It’s nice to know some things don’t change.”

“Would you stop talking in riddles, and explain what in Derishe’s Hell you’re babbling,” GooYee demanded.

Heinbaum described his idea and GooYee said, “It is becoming clear to me I have misjudged you, Heiny. The general nature of your insanity is subtle but nevertheless exists. My only fear is learning it’s contagious.”

“It’ll work,” Heinbaum replied. “Don’t be jealous. It doesn’t become you.”