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

by Sam B Miller II

  "Why did you try to kill us? Who sent you?"

  Bandulog's eyes opened slowly, glaring wildly at Blunt. "Devils! Blasphemers!" he croaked. "I am the hand of God come to smite thee and thy beast!"

  Blunt's anger smoldered as he considered the man's response. He had fought German fanatics in the fields of France and Italy. Experience had taught him some enemies are so battle hardened and dedicated to their cause they become self-righteous moralistic killers. The man lying by the side of the pool cooked in his own skin was such an enemy. But the man had let slip a clue Jim picked up on instantly. He had said 'thee and thy beast."

  Looking over at Sanger kneeling beside him and then up at the Tripman brothers who had hidden from the barrage of bullets in the alcove, Blunt said with a grim smile, "This guy isn't going anywhere. Before my party gets crashed again, let's go meet the reason I asked you all to meet us here."

  Rising, Blunt walked over to Diane and pulled her up from where she still knelt beside Tom's body. Tears welled in her eyes, and she flung her arms around his neck and hugged him tight, crying softly into his chest.

  After a moment, Jim whispered in her ear, "Come on, let's go check on Whatsit. Make sure he's okay."

  Gazing up into his eyes, Diane nodded slightly and holding hands, they walked together, followed silently by Sanger and the two Tripman brothers to where Whatsit stood with his captive.

  Blunt could tell from the look in Whatsit's eyes he was very disturbed by the attack on his friends. The lizard held the big thug standing beside him with a strong mental lock. The killer stood at rigid attention, a line of drool leaking from the corner of his mouth. As Jim neared the helpless man, hate filled him when he thought about the cowardly ambush that had taken Tom's life and put everyone else in danger of losing their lives. George Sanger and the Tripman brothers stood back and gawked openly at the big green lizard wearing a dark green trench coat, white silk scarf around his neck, black booties for shoes and topped off with a colorful sombrero.

  John Tripman was the first to speak. "So this tall lizard is from Mexico?"

  In spite of his dark mood, Jim chuckled and replied, "A little bit farther away. Gentlemen, please let me introduce you to Whatsit, a fellow who came to our planet in a flying saucer almost a year ago."

  Whatsit cocked his head toward each of the visitors and nodded slightly.

  Now that he had Sanger's and the Tripman's full attention, Blunt said, "What I'm about to tell you is a United States Government ultra-top secret and can't ever be repeated by you to anyone for any reason."

  Looking each of them in the eyes and satisfying himself they understood the meaning of what he had just said, Blunt continued, "Whatsit was part of a reconnaissance mission for an alien race known as the Chrysallamans, a warrior breed of big, sentient lizards with technology and weapons vastly superior to those of Earth. The Chrysallamans see Earth as a planet they can easily colonize by killing all humans. My colleagues and I are tasked with developing adequate means for defending the Earth against such an invasion."

  George Sanger looked down at the flashlight in Blunt's hand and pointing his chin at it said, "I take it your special little lobster cooker there is an example of their weapons?"

  Blunt glanced down at the weapon in his hand and said, "I think this is an adaptation our scientists must have created from their studies of the alien weapons we captured. Believe me when I tell you there are other Chrysallaman weapons far more powerful and deadly than this little toy."

  "Good God!" Sanger breathed but whatever else he was going to say was interrupted by Eli Tripman.

  "I don't understand why the guy in black just stands there so still. And why aren't you tying him up or something! He looks strong enough to rip us all to pieces!"

  "Don't worry about him," replied Blunt.

  "Well it's hard not to," Eli muttered. "Look, he still has a pistol and knife in his belt!"

  Blunt shifted his gaze to Whatsit and projected a thought asking him to disarm the man in black. Looking back to Sanger and the Tripmans, he said, "I just asked Whatsit to disarm the man."

  Delmar Nicosta was frightened out of his mind. His quivering terror was a combination of trapped animal and human claustrophobia. He was trapped in death's embrace, unable to run away or even scratch the tortuous itch digging at the tip of his nose. Watching helplessly, he had seen Deacon Bandulog fall out of the rafters into the pool and later be dragged out, smoking like a burned piece of meat. He watched as the big lizard now turned toward him and those terrible black eyes again locked on his. Greater terror dug in the depths of his mind as he felt his hands involuntarily rising to the pistol and knife in his utility belt, lifting them from their holsters and throwing them to the concrete floor. The extreme terror and helplessness was more than he could bear. Something popped inside his head, and he momentarily felt a warm gush run down the spinal cord at the back of his neck. Delmar Nicosta toppled over, his face crashing onto the concourse with a wet crunch, dead from a massive stroke.

  Whatsit looked down at the dead man and then turned back to face Jim and Diane. Dropping his head slightly to one side, the lizard simply shrugged his shoulders in a remarkably human gesture.

  "Good God!" Sanger softly repeated.

  Blunt looked at Sanger and the Tripmans. He knew Whatsit had purposefully killed the human scum and frankly he was glad he had. A half grin curved around the right side of his lips, and he shrugged his shoulders in a perfect imitation of Whatsit's gesture.

  Diane recognized that moment as the opportunity to explain what she needed from Sanger and Tripman. Breaking into the silent tableau, she said, "As you all have witnessed, the people of Earth are outgunned and mentally helpless against the Chrysallamans. The military has assigned its best scientists to study and try to duplicate their technology."

  Pointing at the steaming hot pool water, she continued, "You've seen some of our scientific success this evening. But there will be more to defeating the aliens than just hardware. We must develop physical and mental strengths to match and perhaps overwhelm these enemies. My job is to try to develop those strengths."

  Looking directly to Sanger, Diane said, " Sergeant George Sanger, you have the visual acuity I wish to study in order to find a way to impart your natural abilities to other humans."

  Turning her head towards John Tripman, she continued, "Mr. Tripman, despite the fact you are blind, you have an unparalleled ability to visualize your surroundings. Somehow, your body and mind have developed the sensory capacity to see and hear what is impossible for normal humans."

  "Gentlemen," she continued, "I beg you to allow me to take a sample of your DNA which is the genetic code giving you the abilities you have. I want to study their unique properties in the hopes some of them can be used to help the human race defeat the Chrysallaman invasion." Pausing momentarily, she said softly, "Will you help me?"

  Both men nodded silently and tears welled up again in Diane's eyes, dripping down her cheeks in a mixture of profound gratitude and deep sadness.

  ***

  It was well past midnight when the last military van drove out of the YMCA parking lot. Jim Blunt leaned against the brick wall of the pool building just to the side of the steel and glass entry doors, his eyes downcast and his face shadowed in grief. Diane sat on a nearby wooden bench with Whatsit. The lizard had shoved his sombrero off the back of his head, and it dangled off his shoulders by the draw cord tied around his neck.

  The pool and its concourses had been completely cleaned, every bullet hole patched, every blood stain wiped away. A military tanker truck had been used to refill the pool to its normal water level. The body of Captain Thomas LeBlanc had been respectfully carried away, and the bodies of the killers had been bagged and thrown into the back of a covered trailer. The man cooked like a well done lobster had been handcuffed despite his screams of pain and carted away on a stretcher. He was to be flown to a special military hospital housed in a tightly secured area of the Nevada facility. Once he was ab
le to talk, Jim Blunt planned to personally interrogate the rat.

  Jim listened to Diane cry, her shoulders gently shaking as she released her grief at the death of Tom. Blunt was still deeply angry about LeBlanc's death, but he had been thinking clearly about the details of the ambush and what the burned man had said. The attack had been well planned. The killers knew the location, date and time Blunt had arranged to meet with Sanger and Tripman. Only two people had known the detailed plans, General Collier and his aide, Cpl. Adams. One of those men had betrayed their oath of secrecy and based on his experience with General Collier, the arrow pointed directly at Cpl. Adams. The other clue Blunt had gleaned from the burned man's rantings at the edge of the pool was a religious fervor about beasts.

  Jim recalled what the burned man had said, "I am the hand of God come to smite thee and thy beast!"

  "Well," Jim thought darkly as he formed a picture in his mind of Cpl. Richard Adams, "My beast and I are coming for you, and God will not save you from our wrath!"

  Chapter 11 – What Now

  Two days after the deadly attack at the YMCA pool in Carlisle, Pennsylvania, General Matt Collier sat in his office at the Nevada desert facility looking across his desk at a seething Major Jim Blunt. Blunt's suspicions about the treachery of Collier's aide, Cpl. Richard Adams, had startled Collier. The background checks on Adams and his work history with the Pentagon had been flawless. Nevertheless, the only person with knowledge of the YMCA meeting other than Collier had been Adams. A plan to control information flowing to the Corporal had been put in place immediately. The only thing Cpl. Adams knew right now was that Major Blunt, Dr. Hoffman and Whatsit had not reported back since their scheduled meeting in Carlisle, and the General was very worried.

  "Sir, Adams must be put under constant surveillance tracking his every move and communication," Blunt stated.

  "Already done, Major," replied Collier. "All his movements are being monitored, and every phone call recorded. I'm having his typewriter ribbon analyzed daily to see exactly what he types in all correspondence. Every person who speaks to him is added to the watch list and put under surveillance. Every room in his apartment is being observed 24 hours a day through the external walls and ceiling. If he sneezes, I'll know about it."

  Jim Blunt seemed to relax momentarily. Leaning back in his chair, he gazed up at the ceiling for a few seconds. Then he leveled his square jaw, looked at Collier directly and declared, "We need to press forward without delay on two fronts."

  Collier kept his eyes on Blunt and offered no comment. Major Jim Blunt was a first-rate military strategist. Best to let him talk out the problem and compile a solution rather than interrupting his chain of thought.

  Pausing momentarily as he gathered his thoughts, Blunt finally nodded to himself and grimly declared, "We have to tell Adams the attack was successful. Blunt and the alien were killed in an ambush. Hoffman is clinging to life at the Nevada facility."

  When there was no disagreement from Collier, Blunt continued, "Adams will contact the zealots to advise them the attack was successful. He'll demand an audience with the head poobah to collect whatever reward was promised him. If I'm the head poobah and my killers have failed to personally report success, then I will suspect something is wrong and the only person who can tie my group to the ambush, Cpl. Adams, must be eliminated. I will not permit the man to expose my involvement, so allowing him to visit my headquarters is out of the question. I will use Adams' ego and avarice to lure him to a location where he can be killed without any possible connection to my group or me."

  Collier leaned forward, clasped his hands atop his desk and replied emphatically, "Sounds reasonable to me. These zealots are now a demonstrable threat to National Security. My solution is to place them all in front of a firing squad and send them to their just reward. Do we need any information from whoever the head poobah turns out to be?"

  "We must take whatever steps are necessary to contain the intel released by Cpl. Adams. That means we have to keep Adams alive long enough to interrogate him about what he revealed and to whom he revealed it. We both understand the importance of our sworn duty to protect and save humanity. Our mission can't be derailed by an angry mob of misinformed and prejudiced idiots hiding behind robes of faith," Blunt declared.

  Nodding in agreement, General Collier replied, "I'll inform Cpl. Adams immediately of your death. With me out of town, he should feel confident enough to initiate contact with his friends."

  Leaning back in his chair, Collier inquired, "You mentioned two fronts. What's the second?"

  "We need to have a meeting with our team to review progress reports and make plans for future action. Is everyone here in Nevada?" Blunt replied.

  Collier's reply was quick. "Yes they are. I'll arrange it for first thing in the morning."

  ***

  The conference room at the Nevada desert facility was unusually quiet when Major Jim Blunt and General Matt Collier strode through the door. The news of Tom LeBlanc's death had weighed heavily on everyone, and out of respect for the man, an empty chair sat at the table in his honor. Whatsit was not present as a security precaution. They couldn't let the alien lizard know the details of their emerging plan for defense of the Earth. Blunt took a chair beside Diane Hoffman, and Collier grabbed the seat at the head of the table.

  The room was just large enough to seat 8 people around an oblong wooden table. It was a no frills, utilitarian space without windows. All the walls were painted a drab green with no artwork or framed photographs to break the monotony. The overhead fluorescent lighting was almost too bright for comfort.

  Without wasting a moment, General Collier took charge of the meeting and announced, "Ladies and Gentlemen, the purpose of this meeting is to determine the current status of your experiments and work to date, discuss future plans and make any decisions that may be necessary to fulfill those plans. I know the death of Captain Leblanc has hit all of us very hard, but let me assure you he would want us to proceed with our operations. I dare say his untimely death accentuates the need to press onward toward our goal of saving humanity from the Chrysallaman threat."

  A murmur of agreement and several head nods confirmed everyone agreed with his assessment.

  Collier turned his face toward John Heinbaum and said, "Dr. Heinbaum, please tell us the status of your analysis of the alien tech. I understand a piece of your equipment was instrumental in saving the lives of Major Blunt, Dr. Hoffman and Whatsit during the Carlisle, Pennsylvania incident."

  Dr. John Heinbaum drew himself up like a rooster ready to crow. His close set eyes appeared particularly beady in the bright light of the overhead fluorescents, and he had applied extra grooming oil to insure his slicked back hair would remain firmly in place. In fact, it looked like he had enough hair oil on him to grease the underside of a car.

  Looking around the table to make sure everyone was paying attention, Heinbaum replied haughtily, "Yes, General, my research has been quite fruitful in the last several weeks. Not only have I learned the secret of the alien power storage device, I have successfully duplicated the heat ray."

  Lt. Jerome McPherson, the muscular, red headed Scotsman who happened to be sitting to the left of Heinbaum, interrupted the tale with a snort and placed his hand on Heinbaum's left shoulder. The entire left side of Heinbaum's body appeared to bend under a massive weight, and a wince tightened across the doctor's lips.

  McPherson jovially shook the shoulder held in his hand and said firmly, "Now, Doc, you know it's always best to commend your friends and co-workers for their contributions to your success."

  Blinking his beady eyes from the pain as pressure on his shoulder bones increased, John Heinbaum hastily nodded his head and blurted, "Yes, Lt. McPherson, you are so right. I would like to acknowledge the dedicated work of my assistant, Walter Cunningham and the keen insights of Lt. Jerome McPherson in helping me discover and test the design and theoretical concepts upon which the alien tech is built."

  Releasing his grip on
the doctor's shoulder, McPherson grinned and said, "Aw, Doc, thanks. You're too generous with your praise."

  Rubbing his left shoulder to help restore circulation, Heinbaum continued, "Yes, well, the individual power modules, or batteries, consist of a cohesive bubble of accumulated energy magnetically sealed within a container made from an unusual alloy of four rare metals and silver. Atoms of energy are run through a filter during the charging sequence that makes them sticky, for lack of a better term. The sticky power atoms then coalesce with each other, creating a bubble of highly concentrated power."

  Turning his face slightly towards McPherson and nodding, Heinbaum admitted, "Lt. McPherson deduced the power module could be opened by a specially directed magnetic effect. I theorized that under the influence of a stronger magnetic field, the power module would become semi-pliable, enabling me to obtain a sample of its material. Once I had a good sample, I was able to deconstruct its molecular properties and duplicate it."

  Turning to face General Collier directly, John Heinbaum conceded, "The insights I have received as the result of my collaboration with Lt. McPherson have frankly been monumental. General, I reluctantly admit your decision to force this Scottish devil to work with me was both wise and shrewd."

  Without batting an eye, Collier commented, "I dare say my promise to transfer you to radiation poisoning research at Los Alamos if you refused to work with the Lieutenant was also wise and shrewd, wouldn't you agree?"

  The silent, quick nodding of the weasily scientist's head acknowledged the truth of the General's statement.

  McPherson slapped Heinbaum's back with a powerful, friendly thump that threatened to bounce the man's head into the table. Smiling broadly, the big Scott proudly declared, "Yeah, the Doc and I are really close now. We spend a lot of quality time together! Right, Doc?"

  Glancing sideways at McPherson's smirking face, Heinbaum regained some of his swagger and continued his report. "Lt. McPherson came up with the idea for the heat ray device disguised as a common flashlight. He convinced me a weapon that doesn't look like a weapon fools the enemy into thinking there is no threat. No one would think twice about shielding himself from a flashlight beam."