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

by Sam B Miller II

  "Proceed immediately to the location and destroy everything. Leave no human alive!"

  "Yes Sir. Will you be sending any backup?" Curtilact asked.

  "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?" Hisspat 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 to himself as he set his controls for the coordinates of the human command post.

  Setting the speed controls for a quarter of light speed, he activated his flight guidance system and two seconds later the Jasirac hovered 5,000 feet above the secret Nevada headquarters of FORCE. Expecting a sprawling military outpost with heavy defensive weapons, the Chrysallaman captain 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 Kutlurr was sure he had arrived at the correct location.

  Just as he was reaching for the ship-to-ship communications toggle to report his findings to General Hisspat Zeck, a thundering explosion shook the saucer, and 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 on his keyboard, 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 only 500 feet above ground level, directly 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. The missile launchers that had risen on hydraulic lifts from their hidden underground bunkers were utterly destroyed, deep craters billowing black sooty smoke the only evidence they had existed. As if on cue, wall sized doorways began sliding open on the three buildings of the complex, and armed soldiers swarmed out 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 below him, the Chrysallaman turned his gaze upon 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 left 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 his saucer to a hover six 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 gently to the concrete floor inside the enormous structure. Panning the exterior camera feeding video to his view screen, he saw the far ends of the building were deeply shadowed but showed no sign of hidden dangers. His sensor array indicated the only nearby human lifeforms were hiding behind a set of bright yellow doors in a wall about 30 feet away.

  At this point, Becky Chang ended the illusion she had been using to control the Chrysallaman's actions. Afraid the strength of her control would diminish once the Chrik left the control room, she eased out of 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 secret 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 command deck with a mental command not to move, he made his way from the control room through the circular companionway to the exit ramp and strode down it to stand before the yellow doors.

  Pausing momentarily, the Chrysallaman captain 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 to enhance his muscular strength. Supremely confident in his ability to kill any human with the temerity to challenge him, Kutlurr stalked toward the yellow doors.

  Suddenly, the doors began to slide open, and Kutlurr stared open-mouthed in amazement as two human-like figures stood in the opening with their arms crossed over their chests as if they were completely unafraid of his imposing Chrysallaman visage. One human was about 6 feet tall with short, sandy brown hair. A black pistol with a short antenna sticking up perhaps half an inch just above the pistol grip was belted at his waist.

  The other human-like figure was dressed oddly. 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 prominently 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, the Chrysallaman hurled the series of mental commands he knew would give him full control of their bodies. To his complete 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 quickly at the sound of feet scuffing on the ramp behind him, Kutlurr saw the male and female humans he had captured on the desert highway walking toward him. The male was holding something in his arms, but whatever it was couldn't be seen clearly 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. The necks appeared to have been ripped off their bodies as evidenced by the torn muscles and white, sinewy ligaments flapping against his toes from the shredded necks.

  Confused and thoroughly 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 right up to him, completely unafraid. Compelled by an unfathomable mental power he was unable to resist, Curtilact 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 toward him 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 a dark brown cord. It was a Chrysallaman walking proudly at the side of
the other male human. The duo approached to within two feet of the saucer captain.

  "How does it feel to meet a race of beings whose mental and physical powers are many times greater than your own?" a powerful thought resonated deeply in his mind.

  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 Hisspat Zeck there is a traitorous Chrysallaman aiding the human animals of this planet 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!" came the quick response from the oddly dressed Chrysallaman.

  Turning his head toward General Blunt, 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-bitch!" was the only reply by Tom Blunt.

  "What do you want to do with this big fellow?" Doug Jenson 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 with 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 Kutlurr snarled.

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

  Gazing down 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?"

  Oddly, the female just smiled at him and grabbed the front of his combat vest with her small right hand and lifted. Completely dumbfounded, Kutlurr felt his feet rise off the floor, and he was carried one-handed by the tiny female across the floor and out onto the tarmac of the military base. Struggling feebly against the iron grip of the woman and unable to break her mental control of his brain, 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 a contemptuous expression, Kutlurr gazed out 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 with his cutter rays. To his complete amazement, not a single bone lay sprawled on the pavement, and the sky was totally 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 to let you know before you die that humans have a particular aversion to being threatened. You Chrysallamans should have left us alone!"

  With those words, Major Becky Chang began the process of creating her final illusion in the mind of the Chrysallaman. 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 in the thrall of Chang's telepathic control.

  Peering into the deeper 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 into the consciousness of the lizard.

  Curtilact Kutlurr 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. Unbelievably, he felt his body begin to float upward, and he rose as if weightless into the open sky. He kept floating upward until at a dizzying height of 2,000 feet, all his weight suddenly returned, and he plummeted headfirst toward the hard pavement of 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 at her feet, dead from a heart attack.

  Walking back to the waiting Jenson, Blunt and Whatsit, she said calmly, "It's time we took the battle to the Chriks. I'm truly getting tired of their superiority complex."

  Chapter 21 – The Ultimate Goal

  "Do we have eyes on every Chrik saucer and mother ship?" General Tom Blunt asked as his Staff settled into their seats in the conference room deep inside the Nevada facility.

  "Yes," Major Amanda Kurstow said. "FORCE ground troops have managed to tag all 50 mother ships and 248 scout saucers with a Klotator."

  Colonel Alexander Fields had come up with the idea of a tracking device made from a miniature, specialized K-wave transmitter. The Klotator was a nickel-shaped dark gray K-wave device surrounded by a ball of clear, viscous adhesive. Using a specialized CO2 powered rifle, a FORCE commando would shoot a Klotator onto the hull of any scout saucer or mother ship that landed and turned off its gravity drive. Instantly and permanently adhering to the surface of the hull, the Klotator became a nearly undetectable tracking beacon. The K-wave transmission was unknown to the Chrysallamans, and the dark gray device was so small, it blended into a craft's hull with practical invisibility. No casual inspection was going to uncover it. Unless the spacecraft rose more than 500 miles above the surface of the Earth where kinetic energy was no longer powerful enough to activate the device the Klotator emitted a constant, unjammable location signal showing the precise location and altitude of every Chrysallaman craft.

  "Once they began their ground assault, the Chriks had to turn off their gravity drive envelope to be able to exit their craft. Marking the ships became simple," Kurstow grinned.

  "We have an added bonus with the Klotators," Colonel Jason Stoneman added. "Dr. Roemer had the idea of including a homing circuit in the design. The F-35 Lightning MA ray weaponry and the larger ground based MA cannons lock onto the Klotator signal. The Chriks don't know it yet, but they're flying around in saucer shaped bulls eyes!"

  "They can still outrun us," Blunt said in a measured tone. "I'm afraid we're going to lose some good pilots once the Chriks realize they can easily outmaneuver us."

  Looking at Colonel Fields, Blunt asked, "Alex, what's the status on the distribution of the F-35's around the World?"

  Typing a series of commands into his keyboard, Fields displayed a graphic map of the World on the overhead monitors. Each country's name and boundaries were depicted in black. Fifty small, bright green asterisks appeared scattered around the map.

  "Each green asterisk represents an F-35. Now since you're obviously wondering why they're located in those particular places, let me superimpose the current positions of every Chrik spacecraft. Suddenly, 298 bright red circles appeared on the map. There were 50 larger circles with the letter 'M' representing mother ships. The 248 smaller circles with the letter 'S' indicated the scout saucers. As they watched, some of the smaller red circles moved into new positions.

  "Notice how the saucers are grouped," Fields said. "Each mother ship has a complement of five scout saucers. If you watch closely, you'll see how the scout saucers remain close to their mother ships."

  "Now I'll bring the F-35's to the foreground."

  Instantly, the bright green asterisks appeared, each one near a mother ship.

  "Our strike must destroy the enemy fleet, but our primary targets are the mother ships. The mother ships are the only Chrik spacecraft capable of making the 30-year journey back to their home planet to report a failure. We don't want to spend another 60 plus years worrying about another Chrysallaman invasion," Fields explained.

  "I beg to differ with you," a clear telepathic thought touched everyone's mind.

&nb
sp; Whatsit had remained silent up to that point. Seated beside General Blunt, he hadn't felt it appropriate to impose his civilian ideas into the military strategies, but he considered it important to clear up a possible misconception.

  "There must be one mother ship left intact, and here is the reason," he said.

  "At some point in the near future, the Chrysallaman Emperor will decide to send more of my people to Earth. The colony ships will be accompanied by at least one mother ship. I guarantee you we haven't heard the last from my people."

  In a completely serious, deadly tone, Whatsit continued, "It is my intention to return to my home planet, Chrysalis, with a hand-picked crew of Chrysallaman settlers and humans. I will confront the Emperor with the atrocities he's committed against Earth and other non-Chrysallaman races of this galaxy and bring an end to his homicidal reign."

  A respectful silence from everyone around the table indicated a general agreement with Whatsit's ultimate goal, but the real possibility a single mother ship might escape their net of destruction was troubling to General Blunt.

  "How are we going to capture a mother ship without disabling it?" Blunt asked. "The Chrik crew isn't just going to let a bunch of humans waltz into their mother ship and ask nicely for the keys."

  "Who said anything about humans?" Whatsit inquired with his head cocked in a quizzical manner.

  "Yeah, humans wouldn't have a chance of infiltrating a mother ship," an odd sounding voice said from the end of the table.

  Everyone's attention had been centered on Whatsit and General Blunt sitting at the head of the table. Upon hearing the question from the other end of the table, everyone's head turned and startled gasps and one 'Whoa!' escaped from the Staff's mouths.

  Sitting at the end of the table was a fully armed Chrysallaman soldier wearing a combat vest and holding a cutter ray pistol in its hand.