2288: The Skotadian Experiment

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2288: The Skotadian Experiment Page 4

by Douglas Howell


  “It’s all a number’s game,” Mad Dawg stated after the rebels broke off pursuit. He was referring to the fact that a ship’s counter-measure could only deal with so many shots from a rail gun. A torpedo may be more expensive and far more powerful, but less likely to be used by the rebels.

  (15)

  Commodore Parker just finished talking with Mad Dawg and was a bit annoyed by his rudeness. Parker didn’t expect him to arrive so quickly. Mad Dawg just didn’t care if he had to fight more people. Now, if they chose to wimp out, that would be different. He was no bully, picking a fight with the defenseless. Parker, however, was too cautious and wouldn’t take the chances that Mad Dawg does. Without Mad Dawg knowing it, Commodore Parker was facing a growing crisis in his life that would ultimately cause him to betray Project 21 and attempt to join Skotadi. A small, petty man whose actions would have the greatest consequences for everyone, Skotadi included.

  (16)

  Before Mad Dawg received his message from Commodore Parker, and as his ship was entering the Omicron Ultra star system, his helmsman alerted him to the Necro-Mystic war birds coming into the system. He was so perplexed that for the first time in his career he didn’t know what to do. If he engaged them he would be destroyed. Should he surrender? That is not in his nature. Then he noticed something that actually saved him. They were not making an attack run upon his ship. Ordering his bridge crew not to fire, he had to wait the long, beguiling minutes as they passed by. Several minutes later, here comes the colonial ships. Eventually he got one of them to respond to his hails.

  “We will not interfere with what you may be fixing to do. Understand that we will not accept any interference upon Oasis. We were promised that as our new home world. We will then dismantle our ships and use them as our new dwelling upon that world. We only wish for the chance at a new life,” the Necro-Mystic captain stated.

  “Thank you for your input and Godspeed,” Mad Dawg responded.

  Unlike Commodore Parker, Mad Dawg understood why Skotadi at times showed mercy to some people: it’s all PR. No matter what there would always be those who could be called the helpers within any given society. Skotadi didn’t care about those people; it was all PR for them. The only thing that they truly cared about was blowback. Commodore Parker did not fully understand that. He sweated the small stuff and blamed others for his own misfortune. But in the end he would pay a very heavy price.

  (17)

  Galactic Prime finally arrived in orbit over Golden Hyperion. It quickly put Task Force ZH-3C on the ground. It then left so as not to attract too much attention, but it would stay nearby. It did leave a probe in orbit so that Task Force ZH-3C could still keep in contact. Because of the TIA starbase and other orbiting satellites, they could only use the probe in an emergency. But the most upsetting thing for Mad Dawg was that Colonel McIntyre and his team were not at their pickup point. Task Force ZH-3C learned why it would only open up a very dark and dismal chapter for them. It would indeed be a miracle for them to get out of that mess. This single group of misfits must find it within themselves to be something that they’re not: great liberators of the masses. The type that truly can bring hope to millions of people.

  The Fool With Power

  (1)

  Commodore Parker awoke in his office after he binge drank himself into passing out. It seemed like every single month, he got drunk in his office, passed out, and ended up with an ARI (alcohol related injury), all because he was depressed about how his life turned out. He truly did hate the city, with its endless sirens (at times every few minutes), poverty, the mafia running the place, and nobody seeming to care. Roscadia was supposed to be some Las Vegas of the galaxy, but it only attracted the sleaze of the galaxy more so than anything else. With crime, drugs, and gangs on the rise, it should come as no surprise that the place had become a true hellhole.

  Parker spent the next several hours throwing up so much that his stomach acid inflamed the back of his throat and made his palate sore. Later in the day as he was leaving and going home, he missed a step in the stairwell and smacked the right side of his face on the railings. The only damage that it did was to leave a mark, and it made the area a little sore for the day. And Parker, who blamed all of his alcohol related problems on the fact that he is single with no children or wife, blamed it on the city. He was a man who had lost all hope and no longer cared about anything anymore.

  When Parker got home he noticed that his home had been broken into. Shocked more at the thought of having to buy things again and thus lose money, he entered the property with a growing rage, wondering if this is how the city would repay him for his service.

  “Fuckin’ A! Goddamn it all to fucking hell!” he screamed in rage, and he threw the bottle of liquor. It shattered on the wall near the kitchen.

  “Goddamn fuckin’ assholes! How dare they do this to me!” he screamed out again. He then noticed the drug paraphernalia on his coffee table. But what disgusted him the most was when he noticed that there were several used condoms on the coffee table as well.

  “Sick! Oh, fuck! Goddamn I hate this fucking place!” he cried out both in rage and deep frustration.

  Did it ever occur to him that somebody might do something like that? Break into his house and rob him? After all, he did create the habit of being drunk on Friday and always ended up passing out at his office. He was well known in the city, and he did make good money. Maybe he should have stuck to his original plan and bought that new security home system, instead of wasting his money on gambling. He was not a betting man, but he just wanted to get away from Roscadia. But where was he planning on going? He is a Commodore. It’s not like he could just quit his job or go on a vacation. He’s going to be stuck there for years. So where was he going to go if he did win? He should have known better.

  (2)

  “Seriously, what is the point in having Project 21 protecting us? I mean hell far, even the Necro-Mystics have gotten the point. You can’t beat them. Skotadi I mean. So why not join them?” the newscaster was saying on some program on Roscadia.

  “It’s all about our freedoms!” the guest almost yelled back.

  “For real? What good is our freedoms if criminals are running the show? This city once elected a former mafia boss as a mayor,” the newscaster responded.

  It was all over the news no matter where you turned to. The Necro-Mystics would rather join Skotadi than live with those who fought for the freedoms of others. No matter where Commodore Parker went to it’s all that he heard. He was asked to appear on TV but he declined. He could have calmed the people down and simply explained his decision—one that everybody on Roscadia would agree with: seventy-eight thousand refugees coming to this place; if you think our problems are bad now, wait.

  (3)

  “What the . . .? Aw, come on!” It was Commodore Parker. He was lying down on a bed naked, and he just finished taking off his briefs. He was talking to a prostitute who he needed to see after his place was robbed. Not living near a planet (or a moon) with a large population made it hard for him to find someone. Living in Roscadia didn’t help him much either. He just needed a quick fix, something to take his mind off of the troubles that he’d been having lately.

  “I just don’t want to catch anything,” she said, looking down at what he had between his legs.

  “What!? It’s just a rash!”

  “Whatever,” she said as she started to get up and leave.

  “Well at least give me my money back.”

  She turned and gave him a dirty look, then turned to the entrance of the doorway and shouted out, “Little John, I’m having problems with this guy.”

  “Aw, come on,” Commodore Parker said, his eyes wide with fear. “Oh God, not him. Please, please, please, please. I don’t want any trouble. Just give me my money back and . . .”

  Just then, three large, tall, muscular men came in. Two of them grabbed him off the bed, threw him up against the wall and held him there. The third man, Caleb J. “Little John”
Minetello, stood before him and said, “You want to mess with one of my girls?”

  Before Commodore Parker could say anything, he felt the first of many punches to his torso, a few going to his face. Little John then put his right hand on the back of Commodore Parker’s neck and then bent him forward so that he could see the floor. Then Little John put his left on hand on the back of Commodore Parker’s neck and kneed him hard in his gut.

  The door to the alley flew open with a loud bang. Commodore Parker and his clothes flew out. He hit the wall and fell in some trash. Little John stood there in the entrance of the door with a smirk on his face. He had Commodore Parker’s money (which must have been between $500 - $1,000 dollars) in his left hand, waving it at him. In his right hand Little John held a gun.

  “What? I was just taking out the trash,” Little John said with a crooked smile.

  “Do you know who you are dealing with?”

  “Yeah. Do you know who I am, and who really runs this city?” Little John said as he raised his right hand and pointed the gun at Commodore Parker. Little John had the look of murder in his eyes. Commodore Parker could see it. Oh lord, he could see it.

  “Wait, wait! You don’t want to do this! I’m not worth it! Please don’t! Oh God please don’t do it!”

  “BANG!” Little John shouted out, causing Commodore Parker to flinch. Little John laughed out loud and turned around to go back inside, waving Commodore Parker’s money as he did so.

  Commodore Parker sat there for a while. He then got up, grabbed his clothes and began to put them back on. When Little John had him thrown out along with his clothes, he did not throw out Parker’s briefs. Instead, they threw out a pair of panties. The panties had a note pin in them that read, “Masturbation is free. Use the rag.” He was cursing himself deep down inside for going there, as well as blaming the city.

  “God I hate this place,” he said, crying out of frustration. “I just got to get away. If it’s the last thing I do. I just can’t stand this place anymore. I will find a way. I swear it.”

  (4)

  The Hammer of Doom never made it to the Wol’ga’con home world. They were told that everything was contained. Captain Maxwell then ordered the ship to turn around and head back to Golden Hyperion. The ship then took a different route, which brought it close to Roscadia. It came close enough that it may be detected, but not so close that it would be seen as a threat. An Ensign at the orbital space station at Roscadia detected it and informed Commodore Parker, but he stated that it was probably a Skotadian trick. He did that for no other reason than his suffering and the fact that he no longer cared. Although he missed a golden opportunity to show his COs that he is a good officer who just has had some misfortunes thrust upon him, what occurred next would prove to them that he was not a good officer. His career was nearly finished.

  (5)

  Commodore Parker got back to his office in the late evening. He didn’t want to go home. He found out that he had a message from Fleet Admiral Hamilton, and he couldn’t wait to read it. Angry, upset, and very disappointed at how his day went, he wanted something to pick his spirits up. His stress and frustration, combined with the boredom, was causing him to deeply resent Roscadia. Coupled with his experience of living there, he was nearing his breaking point. He was at that point where all it would take was one more thing to push him over the edge. And he was about to receive it.

  Desperate to leave the Vegas star system, he put in a request for a promotion. But the problem was that he went over the head of four of his COs. When Fleet Admiral Hamilton received Parker’s request, he was quite annoyed by it. Hamilton rejected Parker’s request after reviewing his officer-simulated training. He did it because of Parker’s poor performance during the training. Hamilton mentioned that Parker needed “more experience with using ground forces efficiently.” Being stuck in the Vegas star system made that difficult. Even the compliment, “Your skills as Fleet Captain make you the best suitable candidate to guard the Vegas star system,” felt like an insult to Parker. But it boiled his blood when he heard, “Until your skills in combat, actual or simulated, improve significantly, you are stuck in the Vegas star system until further notice.” To him, that was the greatest insult of them all. When Parker went over the head of his COs, Hamilton felt that it was necessary to reprimand him. Parker knew that would go on his permanent record, making it that much harder for him to be promoted. It proved his insubordination.

  Commodore Parker finally had had enough of the Vegas star system. He did not want to spend another day there, let alone a month or a year. So he would end up spending the next day thinking about what it would mean for him if he joined Skotadi. He was lonely, and he wanted somebody special in his life. Someone to call his own, especially a wife. He knew that if he betrayed Project 21, Skotadi would give him someone special. At least, that’s what he thought.

  (6)

  A Skotadi Ultra Class scientific vessel and three Wol’ga’con military vessels arrived at Roscadia. Like the Necro-Mystics, they too were headed to Golden Hyperion, N-Reserve to be exact. The news was all over this story, and yet again it was all the people would hear. Only a few pundits even mentioned that it may be a Skotadian dirty trick, having these people in need come to a world that Skotadi doesn’t control. It’s all PR to them.

  Did it ever occur to the pundits that the only reason why Skotadi gave them so-called “freedom of the press” was because ultimately they would become nothing more than a mouth piece for companies and conspiracy theorists? Parker thought. It also didn’t help with them misusing technology. They have become nothing more than entertainment.

  Parker was sitting in his hot tub at this home trying to sooth his aches and pains. He was listening to the news; not because he was a news junkie, but because any bad news about Roscadia lifted his spirits. Drinking beer and periodically laughing at the misfortunes of the place, he then had the most sinister thought. Whether it was his drunken stupor or his own evil rising, he just couldn’t help but to entertain what he was thinking. He laughed so hard that it hurt more and yet he didn’t care. Everyone would pay dearly for what he was thinking, and eventually, so would he.

  (7)

  “Now please understand that I am not against what you are stating. But please, for the love of your people, understand that you would be making my declared enemy too powerful for my paymasters to accept. It puts me in a highly awkward situation,” Commodore Parker was informing the Wol’ga’con dignitary.

  “What will it take for you to cooperate more fully?” the dignitary asked.

  “I just need information on any threats to us that you may or may not be carrying. I am fully aware that you may be carrying part of the Hive on one of your ships. Now such a threat would not allow me to cooperate with you,” Commodore Parker was saying. He knew that his statement had the person.

  “So what would get you to change your mind?” she asked him.

  “Well, that all depends upon any possible threats, especially the Hive, that you may be carrying on board any of your ships. Until then, I cannot make a decision.”

  “I understand. We will fully cooperate with you,” the dignitary responded.

  Parker couldn’t believe his stroke of luck (madness may be a closer term), as he would later read what they had on that Skotadi Ultra Class vessel. A Tylkuoply symbiote in the form of the wife of the General who nearly destroyed the Hive. The Hive messed him up so much that he would die of natural causes before he would ever reach Roscadia. (The Wol’ga’cons kept her in suspended animation just in case someone could figure out a way to defeat the Hive.) And now the very chamber that held her would be taken out of their hands and put into Parker’s hands.

  (8)

  Commodore Parker was walking back and forth in front of the bio-hazard containment chamber that contained Mynik’ny’nuta Ydxx’od’omaa, thinking about what he should do next. He was drinking, and one thought kept on going through his mind. Should he or shouldn’t he let her out? He knew what it
would mean if he did. Could he truly live with himself? Or forgive himself for that matter? But if he didn’t, then nothing would change in his life. Stuck there for years hoping to be transferred out. Losing his mind, his heart and soul, and possibly even his health. And for what? To baby-sit a miserable world that no one cares about?

  Realizing that he could never do it, he left the room. While standing in the doorway he stopped, took a long sip of booze, and out of anger and frustration threw the bottle at the chamber and then left. What he could not have known was that it struck on the chamber’s right side, and both the broken pieces of glass and the liquor landed on some equipment that was connected to the chamber. That machine was needed to connect the Wol’ga’con chamber to a human power source. The main problem was that human and Wol’ga’con technology did not integrate well. The equipment’s power core was exposed to the outside and was considered extremely sensitive. It was quite possible that Parker’s actions may cause the machine to malfunction. If that happened then the chamber would lose power. Without power, the chamber would no longer be able to contain her. It would only be a matter of time before she could escape.

  (9)

  Parker was in the small park that was on the grounds of Project 21 headquarters. He had no where to go and no idea what he should do. As much as he hated that world, he did not have the heart to unleash the monstrosity of the Hive upon it. Now what? What should he do? What can he do? Can he somehow repair the damage that he already had done? In short, no.

 

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