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

General Montrose Harrier paced the floor of his office in a rage. The Asiddian commander was so upset his fright wig hair was standing out like he was ready to attack someone.

Harrier’s office was set up to impress anyone who entered it. The room was large with a stone ceiling and floor. The walls were made of dark wood with holes like wormy chestnut in the otherwise smooth surface of the panels. The chairs, desk and various credenzas were made of a special lustrous Asiddian wood not found on Chrysalis. The flat tops of the desk and the chair backs were inlaid with complex patterns made from a scarce substance akin to mother of pearl. The walls were hung with various photos of Harrier receiving medals and rectangular shadow boxes containing past uniforms he’d worn. To most people, the room looked and smelled like a museum.

The stone floor was laid out in a beautiful mosaic pattern of sweeping arcs and intricate designs meant to mimic water flowing in a mountain stream. The direction of the water flow was toward the desk. Stones in the colorful patterns ranged from 24-inches long and 8-inches wide all the way down to the smallest at 3-inches square. It’d taken Chrysallaman artisans over six weeks to lay the floor’s pattern because Harrier kept finding minute faults in their work. Perfection was ingrained in the General’s psyche and nothing less was satisfactory. Besides, he relished every chance at torturing a Chrysallaman. He loved to hear their grunts of pain.

Harrier was fuming because over the last few days, three warehouses had been attacked and looted by unknown killers. Thirty Asiddian guards had either been shot to death or decapitated. At the A-1 warehouse, one of the guards’ weapons had been left behind because its barrel was bent.

“Bent! It would take a special lever powered by a hydraulic ram and the barrel held by a vise to create the u-shape. No witnesses. But it had to be the Chrysallamans,” he decided for the umpteenth time.

“Something’s got them stirred up, and I’ve got to find out what. Maybe it’s the Humans,” he thought.

Princess Peregrine was still missing. It’d been seven days since her disappearance and despite rigorous destruction of the secret passageways riddling the palace, she’d not been found. Torturing the palace Chrysallaman slaves to gain information had been fun, but the end result was nothing. Yes, they’d found many hidden entrances to the secret passageways in the palace but not a trace of the Princess.

The door to his office opened and in walked Dr. Emil Corvus. He was carrying something that looked like a black ball. Scowling at the unannounced intrusion, Harrier was about to yell at the pompous jerk when he noticed the man’s excited look.

“General Harrier, I’ve found something interesting in the alien saucer.”

“What now,” Harrier responded as he sat down. “I thought the thing was a derelict. Your last report . . .”

Corvus held up the black ball. The object had a slick exterior unmarked by anything except three round holes covered by a clear glassine material. The ball was around nine inches in diameter, and nothing but the three holes indicated any difference between it and a common Asiddian child’s kickball. The position of the holes in the ball reminded Harrier of the face of death. He got the distinct impression the ball was looking at him.

The skinny scientist said, “We discovered this object in a storage chamber aboard the alien scout saucer. It was attached to another ball just like it with some rope netting. After I managed to pry one of them open, I discovered a curious circular grid. After powering up the grid, its secret was revealed.”

“Just tell me what you found in 10 words or less.”

Instead of answering, Corvus released the ball. Rather than falling to the floor, it levitated, floating in the air with no visible support.

Rising, Harrier asked, “Just what have you discovered, Doctor?”

“I believe it’s the secret of the alien fast as light space drive,” Corvus responded. “I think it may also be some kind of energy tap heretofore undiscovered! The thing seems to draw power from the aether.”

Now Harrier was interested. The last time the Asiddians had discovered a new energy source, they’d learned the secret of the disintegrator beam. Harrier walked over to the hovering ball and touched it. Even though it appeared heavy, his tentative touch made it float several inches away from him. The object was as light as a feather.

“How long to discover how it works and duplicate it?”

The frown lines across Corvus’ forehead deepened, and his eyes darted back and forth a little faster than usual.

“The mathematical theory is still being developed. I estimate at least 10 days before I have a working model.”

Noticing the uncertainty in the weasel’s answer, Harrier asked, “What happened to the other ball, Dr. Corvus?”

Acting like a teenager caught coming in too late from a date, the scientist admitted, “The circular structure in the first one I opened destroyed itself. I attached a proton accelerator and began feeding power into the thing. Some kind of black goo formed in the center of the lattice. Excited by the results, I fed the thing more power. There was a flash of brilliant white light, and the lattice dissolved into powder.”

Disgusted with the carelessness of Corvus, Harrier slapped the man senseless. As he stood over the unconscious scientist, he grabbed the black ball and smiled.

Looking over his shoulder at a shadow in the corner of the room, Harrier asked, “Do you think you can discover the secrets of this ball thing?”

“Given time, its functions shall be laid bare,” a voice that sounded like it belonged to a chain smoker responded.

The source of the odd voice stepped out of the shadows, and the General regarded Glenn Vultura.

Vultura was a male Asiddian with pure white skin, eyes and hair. His uniform was deep black which explained why the shadow hid him. He had a round head and ears that stuck out like the doors on an open cab. His nose was 6-inches long, and his nostrils were so long and wide, they could have hidden a silver dollar in their cavernous depths. Instead of a large coin, his nostrils were full of black hairs that had never been touched by a pair of scissors or tweezers. If a bug had tried to fly or crawl into either one of the nasal cavities, it would’ve been fouled up by the hairs and denied access. He was truly a disgusting sight.

Harrier was used to the appearance. “Spend your time wisely, Vultura. I’ll put more resources at your disposal if you need them.”

“Excellent! You won’t be disappointed.”

“I better not be,” Harrier said with a deadly look as he returned his attention to Corvus.

Turning the unconscious man’s head from side-to-side with the edge of his boot, Harrier considered how easy it’d be to end the scientist’s life. It was lucky Corvus’ intellect had some value, or the General’s daydream of crushing his skull under his steel-soled boot would be more than just an idle thought.

Returning to his desk, Harrier keyed the intercom.

“Have the inventories been completed on the warehouses?”

“Yes, Sir. I’ll bring them to you.”

“Excellent. Summon Captain Wren to my office. We have many things to discuss.”

***

Hannah Wren had no idea why Harrier wanted to speak with her. Shuddering at the memory of Science Officer Ramona Crow’s death at the General’s hand, Wren straightened her back, opened the door to his office and entered.

She’d been the Captain of Winged Death before it had been destroyed by a Chrysallaman scout ship. Captured by the crew on the enemy saucer, she was the only surviving Asiddian besides Dr. Corvus who’d actually been in contact with a Human.

Harrier sat at his desk and didn’t look up as she entered the room. He was engrossed in a report and didn’t acknowledge her presence. Wren sat in one of the ornate chairs and waited. She found herself holding her breath in fear as she pondered the vicissitudes of Harrier’s emotions. He was very intelligent and had a no-nonsense personality. Both were great traits for a General to have. The danger was his murderous temperament was unchecked. No one dared question his actions or judgment except the Princess. She was missing, and Harrier’s concern for her became more obvious with every passing day. Killing someone seemed to satisfy his pent-up emotions for a time, but the time period of his satisfaction was growing shorter with every tick of the clock.

She was startled from her reverie by his voice.

“At first the looters only cared about food, medical supplies and weapons. Lately the criminals have concentrated on clothing and boots.”

“Are you asking me for a response, Sir?”

When the General nodded, Wren said, “I believe the Chrysallamans are preparing themselves for a major assault. They’re building a cache of weapons and intend to attack us. This new strategy is linked to the Humans’ arrival.”

“What do you know about the Humans?”

“They walk on two legs and can speak our language,” she replied. “They appear to like physical conflict and aren’t afraid of us or our weapons.”

“How did they break free of their bonds? Their hands and legs were restrained with special zip restraints I’ve never seen before.”

“The beings are incredibly strong. I saw one of the males use his bound feet to crush the armor and kill one of the guards. When he didn’t break free of the restraints at that time, I thought they were sturdy enough to hold him. The cuffs were made of a steel-like plastic material and would’ve been unbreakable by our strongest females. I found the ties on the scout saucer. From their configuration and size, I assumed they were made to secure prisoners. After Dr. Corvus arrived and said their lives were forfeit, the Humans broke the bindings with no apparent effort and killed all the guards with their bare hands and feet. After they finished off the soldiers, the Humans released the Chrysallamans. The lizards acted like they were in league with the Humans.”

“Why do I get the impression you admire the Humans?”

Wording her answer in order not to antagonize Harrier, Wren replied, “After they freed themselves, the Humans acted as though the thought of murdering us was repugnant to them. We could’ve been eliminated, but they didn’t take the opportunity to kill us.”

“Did they hurt the Princess in any way as they dragged her away with them? Broken arms? Legs?”

“I don’t recall. I’ve been trying to remember, but I must have been knocked unconscious before they exited the room.”

Harrier said in a sinister tone, “Dr. Corvus and you conveniently don’t remember the abduction. So very strange.”

Wren let her anger show in her reply. It took a concentrated effort to keep her tone civil.

“What do you mean strange, Sir? For some reason your advisors must think all alien species should act subservient. I’m telling you these Humans were fantastically strong and somehow could speak our language. I was stationed in the Cuddlur system, and now I sit before you just a few days later. I arrived in a Chrysallaman scout saucer crewed by Chrysallamans and these Humans. It’s obvious to me the Humans have a means of instantaneous space travel and weapons capable of destroying our battleships. The Chrysallamans have found a powerful ally and blaming me for losing a battle with them is not worthwhile.”

As she finished her response, Wren expected Harrier to pull his pistol and kill her. The look in his eyes seemed to confirm her fear as he opened a drawer in his desk and grabbed something inside it. With a fast move, Harrier reached across the desk and opened his clenched fist. There in his palm were the nova symbols of a Colonel’s rank.

“No one speaks to me like you just did. It’s refreshing. You’ve just been promoted to Colonel.”

Stunned she was still alive, Wren stared at the man for several moments. She realized she was holding her breath in anticipation of a painful death. Reaching toward the outstretched palm, she watched as he dumped the insignias into her hand.

“You are the first of my aides to fathom the dangers we now face,” Harrier continued. “Your new duties are to make our fleet ready for an imminent attack. I expect our forces to be struck without warning and sooner than later. You’d best be on your way, Colonel.”

“How many ships are under my command?”

“All of them. You answer only to me.”

Still surprised she hadn’t been shot, Wren backed toward the door.

“What about the warehouses?”

“I’m handling the situation. The guards have been tripled and extra barricades erected around the buildings. We shouldn’t have any more successful raids.”

Nodding, Wren opened the door. Just as she walked through it she heard the warning.

“Don’t fail me, Colonel Wren.”

“No, Sir.”