The Evolution of F.O.R.C.E.
Chapter 22 – Clean Slate

“How many more minutes should I continue Random Flight Mode?” the Navigator asked.

“Continue until I order otherwise,” Harrier commanded.

His abrupt tone brought questioning looks from the other officers on the Bridge. Harrier felt the need to explain.

“My concern over the fate of our Princess is tainting my tone of voice.” Pulling his disintegrator, he gazed around the Bridge. “Do I need to demonstrate my distress somehow?”

Everyone returned their attention to their data panels. Harrier’s worried look remained as he holstered his weapon. It wasn’t that RFM was difficult to maintain or resulted in damage to the ship. The problem was crew morale. Long periods of RFM signified retreat, a desperate maneuver to escape from an enemy with the power to destroy Asiddians. The bitter taste of defeat lingered on his tongue.

“Have you detected any pursuit?” Harrier asked.

His question was framed to elicit a response such as, “No, but we detected a cataclysmic explosion in the Chrysalis system.”

It had been over 40 minutes since he had activated the Pile-Driving Booby and its detonation should have registered on the energy discharge sensors. The fact there had been no explosion was ominous. Worry lines began creasing his forehead.

“I’ll be in my Ready Room. Let me know of any change in status.”

As soon as the hatch closed, the Communications Officer said, “The rumor mill is ripe with tales of Human gods. I heard some of them less than an hour ago. They’re whispered, but they speak of specters with flames pouring from open hands. Giants laughing as they rip arms and legs off bodies. Appearing and disappearing like ghosts.”

Nodding as if to confirm his own memories, he looked scared. “I saw what really happened with my own eyes, but if someone asks me what is true - I would have to agree with the specter description and the flames. The stories are getting wilder.”

“Harrier is scared.”

“No question, but what can we do?”

“An opportunity will present itself. For now, we continue as normal.”

***

Svet Yuri-Milost was reading her favorite novel when alarm bells began clanging. Leaping to the sensor console, she reviewed the details.

Deciding to use Cuddlur as a home base after she fled Earth had been an easy decision. The Asiddians had eliminated the Chrysallamans, and FORCE had eliminated the Asiddians. The planet enjoyed a moderate climate and plenty of wildlife for a nutritious diet. Other than a little boredom, she was enjoying her vacation. After an appropriate time, she would return to Earth and reclaim her birthright as Head of The Exalted Fellowship of the Holy Epiphany. Then her plans for revenge against FORCE would continue.

As a precaution, Yuri-Milost had configured the Verbinna computer to alert her upon the slightest detection of an outside energy source appearing on the planet. Forewarning of the arrival of an uninvited guest would give her an opportunity to welcome the interlopers or flee to safer territory. The constant surveillance paid off. Something had landed nearby.

Triggering her nearest spy satellite, she focused its camera and sensors on ground zero of the disturbance. Her eyes widened as she saw Drs. Heinbaum and GooYee standing near a rocket-shaped device.

Quickly determining there were no other lifeforms in the vicinity, she thought, “It is obvious they’re testing a new spaceship. It must be unique if the top two scientists on Earth are personally conducting the evaluation.”

A greedy sneer began forming. “They don’t know I’m here. Looks to me like the opportunity to steal the latest Earth tech has fallen in my lap. How nice.”

Typing the coordinates of the landing site, she activated her FLIT drive. The Verbinna materialized less than 20 feet from the scientists.

***

Five minutes and 10 seconds remained on the timer when they flicked into existence on a flat, grassy expanse. Taking a deep, resolute breath and leaning against the side of the Pile-Driving Booby, Heinbaum smiled.

“So this is Cuddlur,” he said as he stared across the grassy mesa. “Looks like a nice enough place.”

“The climate is a persuasive factor; however, my friendship with Marrylynne was the true reason I stayed as long as I did,” GooYee sighed. “I wonder if I’ll replace her in the hereafter.”

“You’ll know in a few moments,” Heinbaum grinned. “I will say getting to know you has been a unique experience.”

“Yes, I suppose you are correct,” GooYee replied.

Heinbaum was about to yell at the pompous lizard when a scout saucer erupted into existence with a sharp crack.

Wind driven dust pelted Heinbaum and GooYee as they stared in amazement at the unexpected appearance.

The hatch opened, and Yuri-Milost walked out brandishing a black ray pistol casually pointed at them.

“Well, well, well, what have we here?” Yuri-Milost grinned. “A sleek new spaceship no doubt on a test run?”

Looking at GooYee, Heinbaum blustered, “I thought you said this planet was abandoned.”

“What are you talking about?” GooYee replied. “It never occurred to me a FORCE operative would be here.”

“Stop arguing and walk to me . . . slowly,” Yuri-Milost ordered.

Wrapping their wrists in zip ties designed to secure enhanced Humans, Yuri-Milost motioned toward the saucer hatch, “Move inside. Don’t bother trying to use any controls. I’ve changed all the passwords. The ship is locked down tight.”

As Heinbaum and GooYee began climbing the ramp, Yuri-Milost sauntered to the torpedo-shaped rocket. The first thing she noticed was the timer. It now stood at two minutes and forty-five seconds. Guessing it was counting down to another leg of the test flight, she began puzzling over the rocket design as she circled it.

“Its power source must be advanced. The layout is too small for more than a few passengers.”

An electric humming from the saucer attracted her attention. Spinning, Yuri-Milost watched the saucer’s entrance ramp glide shut. Seconds later, the Verbinna disappeared. Yuri-Milost was still trying to figure out how the saucer’s controls were unlocked when the Booby exploded.

***

“We must hurry,” Heinbaum whispered as they entered the Verbinna. “When I last looked, there were less than three minutes left.”

“You heard her. She changed all the passwords. What do you expect to do?”

“One thing McPherson taught me is the value of simplicity. As a simpleton, he does have his uses from time to time.”

“I still don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“I left a backdoor.”

“What good is a backdoor? So we sneak off this ship and hide from Yuri-Milost. We’ll still be on this accursed planet when the bomb goes off!” GooYee hissed.

Heinbaum shook his head and scowled as he walked up to the master control panel. His fingers were turning a light blue from the tight bindings, and he hoped he could stiffen them long enough to type in the commands.

He tried twice before he was successful. Typing in the words ‘Rumpelstiltskin is a Chrysallaman’, he pushed the ‘Enter’ key.

“Who is Rumpelstiltskin? I’m familiar with Chrysallaman history and never heard of any such character.”

“An obscure reference just like we’re going to be if this doesn’t work,” Heinbaum snapped.

There was a momentary pause, and then the screen went blank. Heinbaum was about to smash his bound hands down on the panel when the screen flashed ‘All passwords cleared.’

Grunting with satisfaction, Heinbaum leaned against the flight couch and scrolled the GPC destination coordinates to Earth. Smiling when the green GO light lit, he tried to push the button, but his fingers felt mushy.

“I’ve lost the strength to push the button.”

“Well don’t look at me. My fingers are numb,” GooYee replied.

“Then use your tongue. It must be good for something,” Heinbaum demanded.

“I’m not going to put my tongue on that nasty button. There’s no telling who has fouled it with their germs.”

“In a few seconds, germs will be the least of your problems. Are you kidding me?” Heinbaum screamed.

With a winced look, GooYee gingerly extended his tongue, touched the button and drew back. The only effect was the button was now coated with slime.

“Really?” Heinbaum scolded. “The big, bad lizard is scared of a few germs?”

GooYee was scraping his tongue across his lips with an anguished look. He acted like he had just stuck his tongue into a jar of jellied rat intestines.

Exasperated, Heinbaum stabbed at the button with his pointed nose. It worked. The activated FLIT drive shot the Verbinna into Earth orbit.

Heinbaum thought he would never get the stink of GooYee’s saliva out of his nostrils, but they were safe.

***

There was no doubt the Cuddlur system was annihilated.

Data from a Bowler sent to investigate was conclusive. Just before it was destroyed, the device’s sensors flashed back readings showing the Cuddlur sun had imploded. Radiation storms and massive debris fields were all that remained. Navigating anywhere within the former solar system was too dangerous. Dr. Corvus theorized a black hole was forming in the area because the gravitational pull on the Bowler became so extreme, Boottall couldn’t FLIT it to safety.

“The search area for Harrier and his ship has narrowed to a slim wedge ten degrees wide by minus five degrees high and three light years deep,” Lloyd announced. “I expect exact location coordinates within sixty minutes.”

McPherson remained silent, but his hate-filled eyes were eloquent messengers. Tom wasn’t sure the man was mentally capable of combat at the moment, but participating in planning meetings seemed to keep his rage in check. A comment from Becky refocused his attention on the gathering.

“The transition from Asiddian to Chrysallaman planetary control is proceeding at pace. Princess Peregrine has ordered all Asiddians to the eastern continent where they will be separated from the surviving Chrysallamans. She has signed a treaty with Emperor Horcunt agreeing to mutual cooperation in education, scientific research and space exploration. The intent is to intermingle the populations at some point. Until telepathic tokens are widely available, Prince Roemer will be the intermediary.”

“Prince?”

“Yeah, you should have seen the wedding. All pomp and circumstance. I thought the Princess took my news about Miguel’s centipede trick rather calmly.”

“You mean you told her?” Doug asked.

“I always keep my promises,” she smiled. “The look on Miguel’s face was priceless. Caroline only slapped him once and not too hard.”

“You do keep promises,” Tom heard Doug whisper.

Making a mental note to ask Doug what he was talking about the next time they were alone, Tom asked, “Who’s in charge of the Chrysallaman government?”

Hisspat Zeck has taken the position of Prime Minister and is handling all the daily chores of government. It appears Emperor Horcunt suffers from dementia accelerated by his confinement. He is trying to avoid the public until his broken jaw heals. He has no direct heirs, and planetary leadership is in question.”

“Not good news. The Chrysallamans need stability, and I don’t see Zeck providing it. He’s too acclimated to the conquest of other races.”

“Whatsit thought the same thing. He’s in a conference with Helleen, Chellsee and Cherree right now.”

McPherson stood and held a salute, “Sir, permission to leave. I request notification when we have Harrier’s position locked. I want to be a mission member.”

Tom recognized the anguish in his friend’s eyes. Returning the salute, he said, “Understood. Get some rest.”

“Aye, Sir. I think I’ll check in with Ernest, first. He’s still getting used to his new arm and Doc’s not around to explain . . .”

Hanging his head, he eased from the room.

“Becky, I have an idea about how to end this conflict with almost no bloodshed, but I need your sociology and psychology background instead of your military experience,” Tom said.

Intrigued, she grinned, “I’m getting a weird feeling this could get interesting.”

“What do you know about the Winged Goddess?”

“She is the personification of their principal god. All powerful. Omniscient. The usual robes and wings. Rewards the faithful with everlasting life.”

“Do you think she might make herself available for an audition?”

“I guess it would depend on the wardrobe requirements,” Becky replied. “Hera is a good model, but her reputation as a shrew is off-putting. Also, I will not dye my hair blonde or wear a wig.”

“Don’t worry,” Tom said. “Your chosen ones will be in such awe of your powers and the thrill of being offered eternal life, I doubt they will take time to question the color of your tresses.”

“Enemy ship located. I will shadow it from a distance of one light minute,” Lloyd announced. “Do you want me to attempt to interface with its computer?”

“Not at the moment,” Tom said. “I want to try a subtler approach.”

“Becky, come with me. I want Chellsee’s input, and you need a nose job.”

“And here I thought clothes and a wig were my only problems,” Becky grumbled.

***

“Long range sensors have picked up the Human warship Destinnee. It is coming no closer than one light minute, but it mirrors every evasive maneuver we make.”

“Inform General Harrier.”

At that moment, Harrier walked from his ready room and took the Command Chair.

“Lieutenant Ani, report status.”

“Random Flight Mode in effect. All weapons charged and . . .”

Her voice trailed off, and Harrier looked to see why. His fingers clutched his armrests.

An apparition stood not ten paces from him. It was a golden-robed female with black hair held in place by a dazzling tiara. Her characteristic Asiddian nose sloped to an elegant hooked tip above smiling, full lips. Her flowing wings almost touched the deck behind her sandaled feet.

The ethereal figure was staring at Lieutenant Ani and in a contralto voice said, “It is time. The Winged Goddess can no longer endure the suffering of her children. I have chosen a select few survivors to attend me in paradise.”

Stepping closer to Ani, she extended her hand and said, “Join me in Utopia. I will return for others.”

As if in a trance, Ani placed her hand in the outstretched Goddess’ palm. The moment the two hands touched, there was a soft popping sound, and both women disappeared.

Harrier’s eyes narrowed in thought, but his attention was refocused on the Bridge when several of his remaining personnel rose and began excited murmuring.

“Did you see what happened?”

“Was it real?”

One courageous ensign walked to where Ani had been standing and waved her arm through the empty space as if she was anticipating an electric shock.

“There’s nothing here!” she shrilled. Falling to her knees and raising her arms toward the overhead, she wailed, “Come back! Come back, My Goddess! Take me with you!”

Harrier regained his voice and ordered, “Stop it! Can’t you see this is a trick? Get up and report to Sick Bay. You are no longer fit for duty.”

As if in answer to his words, the Winged Goddess reappeared. Smiling at the kneeling woman, she extended her hand and said, “Only the Faithful shall dine with me tonight in Utopia.”

The kneeling officer smiled hesitantly and reached to touch the hand. Covering the woman’s fingers with hers, the Winged Goddess gave a reassuring smile to the remaining Bridge crew.

“I will return for the Righteous.”

With a slight popping sound, she and the ensign disappeared.

The remaining Bridge crew began moving toward the main hatch. Their movement became faster as they neared it until they were almost running in their haste to leave.

“Stop,” Harrier yelled, but no one paid the least attention to him. In moments, he sat alone.

Angry and fuming, Harrier said, “Computer, what is the current position of the enemy ship?”

“Still maintaining one light minute distance from our current location. Matching my RFM maneuvers.”

“How long can you continue RFM without crew intervention?”

“Indefinitely.”

“Excellent. Monitor my location and await further instructions.”

Drawing his disintegrator, Harrier left for the hangar.

***

The companionways were eerily silent as Harrier made his way to the main hangar. Normal activity turned the corridors into beehives as personnel hurried about their chores, but now they were empty and silent.

Harrier’s anger and frustration grew with every step. Here he was, trying to manage a difficult retreat from a resourceful and relentless enemy, and his crew was nowhere to be found. Shouting voices from ahead spurred him to greater speed.

At the end of the last junction in the corridor, Harrier came to a full stop. A crowd was trying to push into the hangar access hatch. The double sliding doors were so jammed with bodies, no one was able to get through them. Several fights broke out as people, pulled away by others trying to force their way through the entrance, confronted their attackers.

Deciding to end the melee and restore his authority, Harrier shot three of the combatants. The sound of his disintegrator beam, as well as the odor of burnt flesh, drew the survivors’ attention, and they fell back from the hatch.

“Dare you make a mockery of the discipline aboard my ship?” Harrier demanded. “What is the meaning of this riotous behavior?”

Most of the crew hung their heads, but one enterprising Sergeant spoke, “Sir, with all due respect. The Winged Goddess has come to our ship to rescue the Faithful. While your command is to be followed in all things mortal, the Goddess rules from the Heavens. Her Word and Promises are unquestionable and all powerful.”

Bowing her head, she continued, “Please don’t make me choose between obeying you and obeying the Goddess.”

“Have no concern about making a choice, Sergeant. Let me speed you on your way,” Harrier growled and cut the woman in half with his disintegrator.

As her body slumped to the deck gushing entrails around the feet of her crewmates, Harrier asked, “Does anyone else have a problem with choosing correctly?”

In answer, everyone backed away from the hatch, and Harrier strode through it to a troubling scene.

The Goddess was walking among the assembled crew, smiling and gesticulating. She would stop before an individual and hand something to her. It was too far away for Harrier to see what was being given, but the object was small and had a metallic glint. The crewmember receiving the object would bow and disappear with a soft pop. More than half the crew was missing.

No one said anything, but the atmosphere in the hangar was - - Harrier could think of no other word to describe it. Worshipful. Annoyed at being ignored and more than a little scared by what he saw, Harrier strode for the person receiving all the attention.

As he neared the robed woman, Harrier began noticing details. She walked in a stilted cadence. Every step she took seemed planned rather than natural. Her wings never moved. Not a twitch. Even a bird fluttered from time to time, ruffling its feathers, but the Goddess’ wings remained fixed - lifeless.

None of his crew seemed to notice her periodic clumsiness or dead wings. Her promises of Utopia and freedom from worry were all the convincing they needed. Harrier was determined to take back his command and despite the blasphemy, he laid hands on the Goddess.

Expecting to twirl her around to face him, Harrier was astounded when his physical efforts had no effect. He was a strong individual, but he might as well have grabbed an oak tree. Pulling the shoulder on a normal person would have spun the body to face him, but all his exertion did was antagonize the Goddess. Slowly pivoting toward Harrier, the dark-haired woman grasped his pistol and crushed the barrel like it was a paper straw.

Loud gasps erupted from the surrounding crowd and someone near the back exclaimed, “Sir, please. Do not anger the Goddess. Her powers are beyond comprehension, but She seeks only to help. Do not interfere.”

Instead of backing down, Harrier said, “Do not believe this charlatan! We are at war, and she would have you abandon your defenses and fellows for empty promises. I give you the promise of future victory, and what does she offer? Oblivion?”

As if in answer to his charges, the Goddess spoke. “The Non-Believer offers not love and salvation but promises of hardship and death. As a consequence of his actions, I call upon the best of my Champions to deal with him.”

Stepping away from Harrier, she raised her arms and cried, “I call upon the Champion of the Scottish Warrior Clan to attend me.”

Nothing happened. Excited murmurs began turning into questioning whispers. Harrier thought he recognized weakness and said, “A true Goddess commands instant obedience. You have undone yourself.”

Turning to his crew, he ordered, “Give me a pistol. I will end this charade.”

Something stirred the air behind him. Harrier felt his collar flutter from the breeze and noticed everyone nearby gaping at something behind him. Twirling to confront the unknown, Harrier gazed up into the face of a red-haired, mustached man at least 4 inches taller than him. The man’s face was twisted with hate. The figure grabbed Harrier by the neck and lifted him until his feet dangled. Harrier felt blood balloon in his brain, and his eyes bulged from their sockets. He tried to raise his arms to flail at his attacker, but they wouldn’t move. He tasted something hot and sticky on his lips and realized his nose was gushing blood and mucous. The pressure in his skull became unbearable. Hearing became impossible as his brains leaked from his ears like thick pudding. Harrier’s last living thought was “I don’t deserve . . .”