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

Zeck landed his mother ship on the wide expanse of President’s Park in Washington, D.C., the Capitol of a nation formerly known as the United States of America. The circular-shaped park was a broad, grassy field bounded by a paved roadway named the Ellipse. Knowing how the Humans valued their important national sites, Hisspat took particular pains to burn the official star pattern and stylized logo of the Chrysallaman Empire into the grassy surface just before he landed.

To properly commemorate the occasion of conquering a new colonization planet in the name of the Chrysallaman Empire, he dressed himself in his grandest Fleet General golden robe. The ceremonial robe of conquest had deep red epaulets and matching cuffs symbolizing the blood spilled by the natives of planet HG-281 in their futile efforts to stop the invasion. Standing before a mirror in his quarters, he fitted a tiara-like crown of diamond glass on his head. Satisfied his regal appearance would inspire reverent admiration from his Human subjects, he marched from his quarters to the exit ramp of his ship, followed by his personal guard of ten Chrysallaman soldiers.

Looking around imperiously from the bottom of the ramp, Zeck spied a stately, two-story white house nearby and decided it would be the appropriate abode the Humans would bestow upon their gracious conqueror as his principal residence. Contemplating the infinite benevolence he would offer to the blighted natives, Zeck stepped off the ramp and set his royal foot upon the new World.

An odd buzzing sound interrupted his thoughts, and Zeck looked upward just in time to see a small, whirring mechanism diving at his head. Ducking just in time to avoid being hit by the flying object, Zeck felt two stinging thumps on his chest and heard other muffled thumps coming from the direction of his guards. Looking down, he discovered the front of his beautiful, golden robe had been defaced by splotches of a thick, fluorescent lime-green liquid. Spinning to see if his guards were ready to defend him from the unexpected attack, he was horrified to find they were being pelted with similar liquids of varying colors, ranging from vivid oranges to bright blues to the horrid lime-green. The offending projectiles looked like some kind of balls that burst upon impact.

As he stood before his imposing mother ship, anger raising his blood pressure to dangerous heights, he felt another stinging thump in the middle of his back. Whirling with his cutter ray pistol ready to fire, he heard the distant sound of children’s laughter and spotted several young Humans hiding behind some trees about 200 feet away. Hisspat was amazed by what he observed. Despite the distance separating them from his mother ship, the children were throwing the globules by hand with an alarming accuracy.

Zeck watched one boy who couldn’t have been more than 11 years old throw an orange ball at one of his guards. With an effortless flick of his wrist, the boy threw the ball with such force that when it smacked against the guard’s nose, the impact splattered Hisspat with droplets of orange goo. One of the Human children held a radio transmitter with a long antenna. Hearing the buzzing sound again, Hisspat saw a flying toy with four helicopter blades hovering in the air above his head. Angered beyond reason by the disrespect of the Human animals, he aimed his cutter ray at the flying nuisance and destroyed it with a single, silvery beam.

Turning his wrath upon the laughing children, he swung his cutter ray in a sweeping motion at ground level and sliced down the trees the children were hiding behind. The laughter stopped as the thick trees began to fall over.

“Let’s get out of here!” the apparent leader of the Human vandals yelled, and all of them turned and ran toward other trees and brush cover hundreds of feet away on the outskirts of the park boundary.

Zeck turned a withering gaze upon his guards and yelled, “Well don’t just stand there! Go after them. Capture or kill as many of the vermin as you can.”

Dashing off the ramp, the guards chased the young Humans, but with amazing speed and stamina, the children reached the park boundary. The vermin had time to turn and taunt the guards as they puffed toward them across the grassy field.

Hisspat heard a mocking, singsong chant coming from the direction where the children had run. “Na Nannie Boo Boo, Chicken, Nicken, New New!”

Another voice proclaimed, “What a bunch of losers. My Grandma has a better looking bathrobe than old lizard-face.”

Realizing his guards couldn’t catch the Humans and feeling exposed to possible assault by hidden assassins, Zeck recalled his weary men from their pointless pursuit. Turning on his heel, the furious Fleet General marched into his mother ship and lifted it to a hover at 3,000 feet. As he floated in his gravity drive envelope over the park, he used the combined heat and cutter rays of his mother ship to destroy the white house he had considered living in for the duration of his reign as the new overseer of planet HG-281.

More determined than ever to launch a ground assault to ferret out the vile Humans hiding in the warren of buildings on the planet’s surface, Zeck stalked to his quarters and peeled off his stained, gooey robe. Pausing for a moment to admire the way the glistening tiara gave him a kingly aura, he lifted it from his head and placed it in a velvet-lined box. He would have another opportunity to wear the diadem, and he vowed the next time it adorned his head, there would be hundreds of Humans kneeling before him in awe and reverence.

***

“Watch closely as I rerun a segment of the video where the MA beam contacts the gravity drive field,” Dr. Miguel Roemer said as he keyed commands into his entry pad.

Roemer was an 18-year old quantum physics prodigy. Standing almost 6 feet, 2 inches tall with the rangy build of a soccer player, Roemer had the youthful appearance of a 15-year old. He’d given up trying to grow a mustache to make him look older. His hormones and baby-face simply wouldn’t allow whiskers to sprout in any meaningful quantity. Even his voice still sounded high-pitched. His Hispanic mother had gifted him with genes for golden-brown skin and coal-black hair. His American father had gifted him with a sloping tip nose and blue-green eyes. All-in-all, women found Miguel captivating.

Within five minutes after meeting Miguel, aging Heinbaum had declared him to be his successor saying, “At last a person fit to follow in my famous footsteps. A genius who approaches my IQ and the lofty ideals I have established. He may not have my fabulous looks, but that’s not necessary.”

“Now watch as I show this close-up in extreme slow motion,” Roemer said.

All the overhead monitors in Tom’s Staff Conference room showed the scout saucer hovering in the Andean Mountain valley. As the white MA beam touched the gravity drive field, the field appeared to flow around the white beam rather than being cut apart by it.

Advancing the video second by second, Miguel explained, “Notice how the gravity drive isn’t disrupted by the MA. The field simply flows around the beam as if it’s accepting the MA in a special relationship. The MA beam is only destroying the structure of the saucer, not the gravity drive field.”

“I see what you mean,” Kurstow said. “The gravity drive doesn’t fail until the MA cuts through the power couplings above the fusion reactor.”

“Exactly!” Miguel agreed as he paused the video at the moment the cascading waterfall of sparks appeared. “I need you to capture a working saucer with an intact gravity drive system. The saucer in our warehouse was too damaged by the crash in Roswell to permit me to experiment with its gravity field.”

“Capturing an undamaged saucer will be difficult,” Jason replied. “The saucer would have to be in an isolated location, and its crew outside, vulnerable to capture. Whatsit says the usual crew is four Chriks. I wouldn’t want to use cutter or heat rays inside or outside the saucer to kill them for fear of damaging delicate equipment. Hand-to-hand combat would cause the least amount of damage, but total success would be iffy.”

“I may have a better idea,” Becky announced.

Everyone turned toward her with expectant looks. “Why not use the Skullreader unique and have the Chriks fly their own saucer to a designated safe spot? We would simply need a soldier who’s been practicing with illusions to be captured by a saucer crew. Once in close mental contact, our soldier would impose an illusion into the brains of the Chriks and have them fly their saucer to us.”

“In fact,” she said in a determined tone, “I volunteer for the mission. I’ve been practicing my illusions almost every day. I’m sure I can pull it off.”

The looks she received from the Staff were mixed. Everyone appreciated the danger she would be exposed to on a mission such as she was proposing. From the pensive look on Tom, Becky had the impression he was going to veto her idea outright. Surprisingly, he agreed with her.

“I reluctantly agree Major Chang’s idea has the greatest chance for successful retrieval of a fully functional scout saucer,” Tom said. “I don’t like the idea of one of my staff being exposed to such danger, but Major Chang has shown a particular affinity for telepathic communication.”

“I volunteer to go with her,” Doug said. Peering at Becky to see if he could detect any objection and seeing none, Doug continued, “I have one-on-one experience with controlling three Chrysallaman crew members in the Andean Mountain valley. If anything goes wrong with her illusion, I’ll be her backup to handle any unruly Chrik.”

“Colonel Jenson should go with her,” Jason declared. “I watched him handle the Chriks in Colombia. He is the right choice to go on the mission.”

“Very well,” Tom said. “Let’s make this happen.”

Looking at Becky and Doug with a stern expression, Tom said, “Don’t take any unnecessary chances. I want a working saucer, not dead heroes.”

***

Curtilact Kutlurr, captain of the Chrysallaman saucer, Jasirac, scowled at his main view screen as his craft sped across an arid desert plain in the southwest area of North America; annoyed to no end by the mind-numbing dullness of his assignment. Thinking his missions would improve after VunnRer Slizzt was eliminated for gross incompetence by Fleet General Hisspat Zeck, Kutlurr had been supremely disappointed when the Fleet General had ordered him to patrol an area encompassing a vast desert region of the southwest.

Trying to understand why Zeck thought the arid, largely unpopulated desert was so important, Curtilact had done some research. The Fleet archives contained the detailed logs of the exploratory survey of planet HG-281. The General had lost one of his scout saucers in the deserts of the Southwest. In the entire history of the Chrysallaman Empire, no expedition had ever suffered the loss of a crewman, much less a scout saucer. Upon his return to the planet as Fleet General, Zeck had vowed to capture and torture any Humans found in the ever-to-be-damned desert.

A small ping jarred Curtilact from his reverie. His automatic scanners had detected movement below his flight path. Tapping the commands into his entry pad to narrow the focus of the scanner array, Curtilact was pleased to see a land crawler, the planetary natives called a car, traveling along a deserted roadway bordered on both sides by high canyon walls.

“At last,” he smiled as he reduced speed and twirled the steering swivel ball to guide his saucer toward the car.

***

“You’ve got a bogie on your 6 o’clock,” a FORCE observer’s voice told Doug and Becky through their K-wave earbuds.

General Blunt had insisted a squad of soldiers provide backup protection for Doug and Becky just in case the Chriks tried to kill rather than capture. The 5-mile stretch of desert highway they’d been traversing over the past two hours was dotted with camouflaged soldiers armed with MA Bazookas and ray pistols. Every person was in constant communication via K-wave transceivers. Any attempt to murder Jenson and Chang was going to be met with irresistible deadly force.

Doug, who was driving the white sedan, glanced at Becky and said, “Here we go. Just keep in mind these Chriks all have massive superiority complexes. They believe every race of beings is inferior to them mentally and physically. We have to play along.”

Becky’s face was glowing with excitement. Clasping her hands in her lap, she had to fight the urge to turn and watch the saucer dive into a hover behind their car. She was itching to try out the illusion she had formulated, but they had to sell the ruse of being two defenseless Humans at the mercy of the bloodthirsty aliens in order to have any chance of getting aboard the saucer.

Without warning, the car’s engine sputtered, and Doug struggled with no power steering and sluggish brakes to guide the car to a stop on the side of the road. Opening their doors, Doug and Becky stepped onto the sandy highway asphalt as if they were going to investigate what was wrong with their car. A hot breeze and blowing sand behind them attracted their attention, and with frightened expressions, they watched as the Chrysallaman saucer lowered its landing gear and settled to the ground.

A ramp folded out of the bottom of the saucer, and two Chriks sauntered into the bright sunlight. Both of them wore combat vests and held cutter ray pistols casually aimed in the direction of Doug and Becky. The Chrik with an insignia of two starbursts pinned to his vest pointed his pistol at the car and sliced through the motor block and left quarter panel with a quick flick of his wrist. With its left front axle and tire cut away, the car dropped to the pavement, and the left fender and tire assembly fell away from the vehicle onto the roadway with a metallic crash.

Grinning confidently, the lizard focused its black eyes on Doug and Becky and issued the mental commands to take control of their minds. Easily fending off the attack with their activated mental powers, they feigned the reactions necessary to convince the Chrik he was now in control of their bodies.

“This is just too easy,” Kutlurr chortled as he holstered his ray pistol. “I haven’t found a Human animal yet who could withstand my mental powers.”

“The female looks tasty,” Ferrll Yirr rumbled as he walked toward Becky. “The male’s meat is probably stringy like the last one we captured.”

“Unfortunately for you, as Captain of this vessel I have first selection of meat from the animal. Her tender thigh meat is mine,” Kutlurr responded as he looked into Yirr’s eyes.

Not wanting to upset his Captain, Yirr nodded, changed his direction toward Doug and said, “I prefer the eyeballs and liver anyway. You can have all the female meat you desire.”

Grabbing Doug’s arm, Yirr guided him toward the saucer and up the ramp. Fighting hard not to flinch away from the Chrik’s touch, Doug allowed himself to be walked into the saucer. Curtilact didn’t bother to walk over to the female. He simply issued a mental command for the Human to follow him, and Becky obediently walked up the ramp into the companionway circling the inner core of the saucer.

Acting like he was coughing, Doug spoke to Becky and the observers hidden in crevices in the canyon walls, “I’m going to let this Chrik lead me deeper into the saucer. Once I have eyes on the other crewmen, I’ll eliminate them. Becky, you’ll have Captain Chrik all to yourself. I’ll remain hidden until you let me know it’s okay to join you.”

Becky responded with a coughed, “Okay.”

Reading the mind of the unsuspecting Captain, Becky learned his name was Curtilact Kutlurr, and the ship was called Jasirac. Gathering her thoughts, Becky began the process of imposing her illusion into the Chrik’s brain.

The illusion Becky had conceived required the Chrysallaman to believe he’d been ordered to annihilate a vital Human military base. Since the whole point of her operation was to deliver a fully functional scout saucer to the Nevada installation, the selection of the target was simple. She would have the unsuspecting lizard fly his saucer to the Nevada base.

Sifting through the memories of the Chrik, she found distinct recollections of his interactions with Fleet General Hisspat Zeck. Linking her illusion into those memories, she initiated the planned sequences of the hallucination the moment the Chrysallaman led her into the master control room.

***

The ship-to-ship communicator was blinking yellow when Kutlurr entered the control room with his captive Human female. Ordering her to sit in a corner and not move, he sat in the command couch and pushed the toggle to accept the transmission.

“Where have you been? Why was your acknowledgment of my transmission delayed?” General Zeck asked.

“I was in the process of capturing Humans in the southwest desert area as you instructed, General,” Curtilact answered. “Is there a problem?”

“We have discovered a central command post of the Human military. It’s close to your position. Here are the coordinates,” Zeck replied as a series of location parameters appeared on the main view screen.

“Proceed immediately to the location and destroy everything. Leave no Human alive.”

“Yes, Sir. Will you be sending any backup?”

“None should be necessary, and if it becomes necessary, I will personally join the backup and burn your miserable, cowardly body to a nice, crispy char for the inconvenience to my schedule. Do I make myself clear?” Zeck threatened.

“No backup will be necessary, Sir.”

“I didn’t think so. General Hisspat Zeck out.”

“Timid queller! How did he ever rate the Emperor’s appointment as Fleet General?” Curtilact muttered as he set his controls for the coordinates of the Human command post.

Setting the speed controls for a quarter of lightspeed, he activated his flight guidance system and two seconds later the Jasirac hovered 5000 feet above the Nevada headquarters of FORCE. Expecting a sprawling military outpost with heavy defensive weapons, Curtilact was surprised by what he saw. Other than a windswept, sand-covered runway, the only structures in sight were three large buildings squatting next to a wide, empty tarmac. The area appeared to be abandoned. Double checking his coordinates, Curtilact was sure he’d arrived at the correct location.

Just as he was reaching for the ship-to-ship communications toggle to report his findings to General Zeck, a thundering explosion shook the saucer. Despite its protective gravity field, it slewed sideways from the impact. Amazed at the power of the explosion, Kutlurr flipped the toggle for automated defensive mode. Instantly, the saucer glided sideways, narrowly avoiding a second salvo of ground-to-air missiles.

Keying the necessary commands, he directed his master computer to analyze the electronic guidance systems of the rockets and their points of origin.

“Clever,” he thought. “Proximity detonators. Any missile coming within 300 feet of a gravity drive harmonic will automatically explode.”

Shaking his head at the uselessness of the tactic, Kutlurr recalled his military school training. The same proximity explosive strategy had been used by the Ponndomer defenders on planet WJC-93. It hadn’t worked there, and it wasn’t going to work here. Pressing the blinking red stud on his control panel, he activated his weaponry computer and sat back in his command couch to watch the fun.

Swooping down to a hovering height of 500 feet over the center of the three large buildings, cutter rays sizzled out from the saucer’s edge in a 360 degree circle of death and destruction. Missile launchers that had risen on hydraulic lifts from their underground bunkers were utterly destroyed, deep craters billowing black, sooty smoke the only evidence they had existed. As if on cue, wall-sized doorways slid open on the three buildings of the complex, and armed soldiers swarmed onto the tarmac. Shoulder-fired rockets and small arms fire made the ground appear to be sparkling.

Sneering at the hopeless attempts to damage his scout saucer, Kutlurr activated his heat ray. Instantly, wide swaths of the defending soldiers flamed into screaming candles. Within seconds, brownish skeletons fell in heaps as their covering of flesh burned and boiled away.

Sensing no surviving lifeforms, Curtilact looked at the captive female cringing in a corner of the deck behind him and sent a mocking telepathic thought to her, “Tonight, I shall celebrate the easy victory you just witnessed by savoring a fine roast cut from your thigh. In the meantime, I shall take possession of this Human military base in the name of my Fleet General Hisspat Zeck.”

Keeping his automatic defenses on full alert, Kutlurr dropped to a hover 6 feet above the tarmac and floated toward the wide opening in the center building. His sensor array was picking up some Human stragglers hiding inside, and he wasn’t about to leave any survivors. The saucer extended its landing gear and settled to the concrete floor inside the enormous structure. Panning the exterior camera, he saw the far ends of the building deeply shadowed but no sign of hidden dangers. His sensor array indicated the only nearby Human lifeforms were hiding behind a set of yellow doors in a wall about 30 feet away.

At this point, Becky ended the illusion she’d been using to control the Chrysallaman’s perceptions. Afraid the strength of her control would diminish once the Chrik left the control room, she eased from his mind and let him return gently and unknowingly back to reality. She had completed the most difficult part of her mission. The saucer now sat within the confines of the main hangar at the Nevada base.

Touching the internal ship communication key on his combat vest, Kutlurr ordered his crew to meet him on the ramp for a quick search and destroy mission. Leaving the cowed female Human in the corner of the deck with a mental command not to move, he made his way to the exit ramp and strode down it to stand before the yellow doors.

Kutlurr wondered why his crewmen hadn’t yet joined him. Shrugging dismissively, he thumbed the button on his combat vest, activating his protective shielding to ward off small arms fire and enhance his muscular strength. Confident in his ability to kill any Human with the temerity to challenge him, Kutlurr stalked toward the yellow doors.

The doors began sliding open, and Kutlurr stared in open-mouthed amazement as two Human-like figures stood in the opening as if they were unafraid of his imposing Chrysallaman visage. One Human was tall with short, sandy-brown hair. A black pistol with a short antenna sticking up above the pistol grip was belted at his waist.

The other Human-like figure was oddly dressed. It wore a tan leather, wide-brimmed hat with dark brown edges that shadowed its face. A long dark-green coat covered most of its body, and its feet were shod in black boots. A wide belt with a cutter ray pistol strapped at its center crossed the chest of the figure. There was a thin tie around the neck of the beast, and the jeweled clasp of the tie was fashioned as a stylized Chrysallaman skull. The sight of the skull brought Kutlurr’s blood to a boil.

Sneering at the audacity of the Human animals, Kutlurr hurled the series of mental commands he knew would give him full control of their bodies. To his astonishment, his telepathic commands bounced back at him like an echo, and he winced at the impact the blowback had on his brain. Gathering himself to deliver another telepathic punch to the obstinate brains of the Humans, Kutlurr was about to project his commands when a clear thought impinged on his mind, overwhelming his mental processes.

“That’ll be enough, Captain Chrik.”

Pivoting at the sound of feet scuffing on the ramp behind him, Kutlurr saw the male and female Humans he’d captured on the desert highway walking toward him. The male was holding something, but whatever it was couldn’t be seen in the darkness shrouding the upper end of the ramp. Suddenly three severed Chrysallaman heads came rolling down the ramp to Kutlurr’s feet. They were the heads of his crewmen. They had been ripped off the bodies as evidenced by the torn muscles and white, sinewy ligaments flapping against his toes from the shredded necks.

Confused and frightened by the crazy sequence of events, drool began dripping from the corners of the Chrysallaman’s mouth as he struggled to get his sluggish brain back on firm footing. The male and female Humans walked up to him completely unafraid. Compelled by an unfathomable mental power he was unable to resist, Kutlurr involuntarily dropped his cutter ray pistol into the outstretched hand of the male.

Hearing footsteps behind him, the now quivering lizard turned to face the beings walking from the open yellow doors. Kutlurr’s eyes widened to the point they almost popped out of his eye sockets. What he’d believed was a Human had pulled the big hat off its head and let it hang off the back of its neck by the draw cord. It was a Chrysallaman. The duo approached to within a 3 feet.

“How does it feel to meet a race of beings whose mental and physical powers are many times stronger than your own?” a powerful thought resonated.

Trying his best to piece his dignity back together, Kutlurr managed to respond with a sneer, “I don’t know what fantasy world a traitor like you lives in but I just finished destroying this military base. As soon as I report to Fleet General Zeck there is a traitorous Chrysallaman aiding the Human animals in a misguided effort to thwart our colonization, he’ll bring his mother ship to this location and blow you back to the pits of Hell where you belong.”

“Interesting,” the oddly dressed Chrysallaman responded.

Turning to Tom, Whatsit explained, “Hisspat Zeck was the commander of the team that conducted the initial planetary survey 68 years ago. He is a particularly vile individual who enjoys dining on Human flesh.”

“Son-of-a-bitch!” Tom replied.

“What do you want to do with this big fellow?” Doug asked.

“I have already extracted the full flight specifications and operational knowledge from his mind. I’m now fully capable of flying the saucer. He is no longer necessary,” Whatsit said in a deadly tone.

“I don’t know what you creatures are rambling about, but I’m amazed you’re still trying to make believe your military is able to defend against the onslaught of the invincible Chrysallaman fleet. Have you no sense?” Curtilact snarled.

“Let me show you something, Captain Chrik.” Becky said as she stepped up to the big lizard. “You need a good dose of humility.”

Looking at the uppity female Human, whose head was at least 6 inches below his chin, Kutlurr grinned and replied, “Who do you think you’re kidding?”

The female just smiled at him, grabbed the front of his combat vest and lifted. Dumbfounded, Kutlurr felt his feet rise off the floor, and he was carried one-handed by the tiny female out onto the tarmac. Struggling feebly against the woman’s iron grip and unable to break her mental control, the Chrysallaman watched helplessly as he was toted about as if he weighed no more than a rabbit-sized queller.

Lowering the Chrysallaman to his feet, Becky said, “Look around at all the destruction and death you think you caused to this base.”

With contempt, Kutlurr gazed across the tarmac expecting to see heaps of skeletons burned brown by his heat rays and plumes of black smoke from the missile launchers he had blown apart. To his amazement, not a single bone lay sprawled on the pavement. The sky was clear; a beautiful, bright blue with no hint of smoke. Not even the smell of burnt flesh or melted metal touched his nose.

“What manner of sorcery is this?” he demanded as more nervous drool leaked from the corners of his mouth.

“Just wanted you to know before you die that Humans have a particular aversion to being threatened. You Chrysallamans should have left us alone.”

With those words, Becky began the process of creating her final illusion in Kutlurr’s mind. The evil lizard had no idea the next few moments of his life were only happening inside his mind as he stood unmoving on the tarmac.

Peering into the deep recesses of the foul mind of the Chrysallaman, Becky found the hidden, worst fear the Chrik had buried in his subconscious. Pulling the memories out into the open, she imposed a vivid hallucination.

Curtilact was trying to calm his disjointed, turbulent thoughts when the female extended her hand towards him, palm up, and gestured upward with a flick of her wrist. He felt his body begin to float, and he rose weightless into the open sky. He kept floating until at a dizzying height of 2,000 feet, all his weight returned, and he plummeted headfirst toward the tarmac. Frightened out of his mind and flapping his arms wildly as if he could stop the fall, the Chrysallaman felt his skull crush as it struck the unforgiving concrete.

As Becky completed the illusion, she watched with emotionless eyes as the Chrysallaman toppled over dead from a heart attack.

Walking back to Doug, Tom and Whatsit, she said, “It’s time we took the battle to the Chriks. I’m truly getting tired of their superiority complex.”