Evolution of F.O.R.C.E. (The Origin of F.O.R.C.E. Book 3)

by Sam B Miller II

  Disgusted with the carelessness of Corvus, Harrier slapped the man senseless. As he stood over the unconscious scientist, he grabbed the black ball and smiled.

  Looking over his left shoulder at a shadow in the corner of the room, Harrier asked, "Do you think you can discover the secrets of this ball thing?"

  "Given time, its functions shall be laid bare," a voice that sounded like it chain smoked responded.

  The source of the odd voice stepped out of the shadows, and the General regarded Glenn Vultura.

  Vultura was a male Asiddian with pure white skin, eyes and hair. His uniform was deep black which explained why the shadow hid him. He had a round head and ears that stuck out like the doors on an open cab. His nose was 6 inches long, and his nostrils were so long and wide, they could have hidden a silver dollar in their cavernous depths. Instead of a large coin, his nostrils were full of black hairs that had never been touched by a pair of scissors or tweezers. If a bug had tried to fly or crawl into either one of the nasal cavities, it would've been fouled up by the hairs and denied access. He was truly a disgusting sight.

  General Harrier was used to the appearance. "Spend your time wisely, Vultura. I'll put more resources at your disposal if you need them."

  "Excellent! You won't be disappointed."

  "I better not be," Harrier said with a deadly look in his eyes as he returned his attention to Corvus.

  Turning the unconscious man's head from side to side with the edge of his boot, Harrier considered how easy it'd be to end the scientist's life. It was lucky Corvus' intellect had some value, or the General's daydream of crushing his skull under the steel soled boot would be more than just an idle thought.

  Returning to his desk, Harrier keyed the intercom.

  "Have the inventories been completed on the warehouses?"

  "Yes Sir. I'll bring them to you."

  "Excellent. Summon Captain Wren to my office. We have many things to discuss."

  ***

  Hannah Wren had no idea why Harrier wanted to speak with her. Shuddering at the memory of Science Officer Ramona Crow's death at the General's hand, Wren straightened her back, opened the door to his office and entered. Wren was considered beautiful by Asiddian standards. She was a slender 6 feet 10 inches tall with dark black hair and light blue skin. Her beak shaped, slender nose was close to six inches long. Her eyes were at least two inches in diameter and looked like luminous brownish-yellow tiger eye beads. Her fingers were tipped by black claws half an inch long, and she kept the claw-points needle sharp. She'd stopped dying the tips for a more natural look that didn't draw attention.

  She'd been the Captain of Winged Death before it had been destroyed by a Chrysallaman scout ship. Captured by the crew on the enemy saucer, she was the only surviving Asiddian besides Dr. Corvus who'd actually been in contact with a human.

  Harrier sat at his desk and didn't look up as she entered the room. He was engrossed in a report and didn't acknowledge her presence. Wren sat down in one the ornate chairs and waited. She found herself holding her breath in fear as she pondered the vicissitudes of Harrier's emotions. He was very intelligent and had a no-nonsense personality. Both were great traits for a General to have. The danger was his murderous temperament was unchecked. No one dared question his actions or judgment except the Princess. She was missing, and Harrier's concern for her became more obvious with every passing day. Killing someone seemed to satisfy his pent up emotions for a time, but the length of his satisfaction was growing shorter with every tick of the clock.

  She was startled from her reverie by his voice.

  "At first the looters only cared about food, medical supplies and weapons. Lately the criminals have concentrated on clothing and boots."

  "Are you asking me for a response, Sir?"

  When the General nodded his head, Wren said, "I believe the Chrysallamans are preparing themselves for a major assault. They're building a cache of weapons and intend to attack us. This new strategy is linked to the humans' arrival."

  "What do you know about the humans?"

  "They walk on two legs and can speak our language," she replied. "They appear to like physical conflict and aren't afraid of us or our weapons."

  "How did they break free of their bonds? Their hands and legs were restrained with special zip restraints I've never seen before."

  "The beings are incredibly strong. I saw one of the males use his bound feet to crush the armor and kill one of the guards. When he didn't break free of the restraints at that time, I thought they were sturdy enough to hold him. The cuffs were made of a steel-like plastic material and would've been unbreakable by our strongest females. I found the ties on the scout saucer, and from their configuration and size I assumed they were made to secure prisoners. After Dr. Corvus arrived and said their lives were forfeit, the humans broke the bindings with no apparent effort and killed all the guards with their bare hands and feet. After they finished off the soldiers, the humans released the Chrysallamans. The lizards acted like they were in league with the humans."

  "Why do I get the impression you admire the humans?"

  Wording her answer in order not to antagonize Harrier, Wren replied, "After they freed themselves, the humans acted as though the thought of murdering us was repugnant to them. We could've been eliminated, but they didn't take the opportunity to kill us."

  "Did they hurt the Princess in any way as they dragged her away with them? Broken arms? Legs?"

  "I don't recall. I've been trying to remember, but I must have been knocked unconscious before they exited the room."

  Harrier said in a sinister tone, "Dr. Corvus and you conveniently don't remember the abduction. So very strange."

  Wren let her anger show in her reply. It took a concentrated effort to keep her tone civil.

  "What do you mean strange, Sir? For some reason your advisors must think all alien species should act subservient. I'm telling you these humans were fantastically strong and somehow could speak our language. I was stationed in the Cuddlur system and now I sit before you just a few days later. I arrived in a Chrysallaman scout saucer crewed by Chrysallamans and these humans. It's obvious to me the humans have a means of instantaneous space travel and weapons capable of destroying our battleships. The Chrysallamans have found a powerful alley and blaming me for losing a battle with them is not being helpful."

  As she finished her response, Wren expected Harrier to pull out his pistol and kill her. The look in his eyes seemed to confirm her fear as he opened a drawer in his desk and grabbed something inside it. With a fast move, Harrier reached across the desk and opened his clenched fist. There in his palm were the nova symbols of a Colonel's rank.

  "No one speaks to me like you just did. It's refreshing. You've just been promoted to Colonel."

  Stunned she was still alive; Wren stared at the man for several moments. She realized she was holding her breath in anticipation of a painful death. Reaching toward the outstretched palm, she watched as he dumped the insignias into her hand.

  "You are the first of my aides to fathom the dangers we now face," Harrier continued. "Your new duties are to make our fleet ready for an eminent attack. I expect our forces to be struck without warning and sooner than later. You'd best be on your way Colonel."

  "How many ships are under my command?"

  "All of them. You answer only to me."

  Still surprised she hadn't been shot; Wren rose from her chair and backed toward the door.

  "What about the warehouses?"

  "I'm handling the situation. The guards have been tripled and extra barricades erected around the buildings. We shouldn't have any more successful raids."

  Nodding her head, Wren opened the door. Just as she walked through it she heard the warning.

  "Don't fail me Colonel Wren."

  "No Sir."

  Chapter 7 - Standards

  The overall health and well-being of the Chrysallamans was improving every day. Thanks to the warehouse raids, all the lizards were ge
tting adequate nourishment and becoming stronger. The young Chrysallamans flocked around the humans without fear. There was no dread in the eyes of the children, and the babies reached for the humans as if they were household pets. One of the cutest little ones wouldn't go to sleep unless she was held and rocked by Doug. Doug was a nervous babysitter until Becky showed him the proper way to hold the small lizard named Emmilly.

  "You must cradle the child's head in the crook of your arm," she instructed as she made sure the blanket keeping the girl warm was properly wrapped around her little arms and legs.

  Watching Doug shift Emmilly in his arm, she said, "No. Not like a loaf of bread. Make Emmilly feel safe and loved. There, that's perfect."

  Doug was getting the hang of holding babies, and Becky was amazed by his patience and willingness to learn. He began rocking his body in a soothing motion, and Emmilly cooed with pleasure as the swaying settled her into a deep sleep. Becky recognized the fatherly look in Doug's eyes as he gazed down at the sleeping child and realized she was staring at him. There was more to Doug than a stiff necked military officer, and she liked what she saw.

  Satisfied Emmilly wasn't going to be dropped on her tiny head by the big lunk, Becky turned her attention to Dr. Jamins GooYee.

  Gooey had never had much tolerance for youngsters, but after nursing several of the sickliest Chrysallamans back to health and sensing their admiration, even his crusty old-man personality was becoming mellow. He sat on a large flat stone telling stories to at least twenty Chrysallaman youths ringed around him as if he was an adored grandfather. The kids loved the name Gooey, and they were enthralled by his tales ranging from accounts of life on Chrysalis to stories about his time on Earth. The guttering light of flaming torches outlined the tableau and gave the appearance the kids were sitting around a campfire.

  Pausing not far from the group, Becky leaned against a stone outcropping and listened as GooYee regaled the children with his fables. Knowing the young Chrysallamans drank in knowledge like a sponge just as Human children, she decided to intervene before the stories got too outlandish.

  Whispering privately in GooYee's head, she said, "Don't lie to the children, Gooey. That stuff has a way of coming back to bite you."

  Gazing back at her with a hurt look in his big black eyes, GooYee replied, "I never lie, but exaggeration won't hurt them. And Chrysallamans don't bite."

  "Yeah right, but when they find out you didn't start the first school on Earth or save New York City from certain destruction by a fire-breathing dragon, they'll take everything you say with a grain of salt."

  Frowning at her words, GooYee asked, "What does a condiment have to do with anything?"

  "Oh my Lord, you're insufferable!" she exclaimed and walked away in a huff.

  ***

  Dark Chrysallaman eyes glared at the display of comradery as the interaction between GooYee and the Human Chang unfolded. Even though the Human walked away like she was angry, the friendship between the two was genuine.

  General Dunnbull was worried and angry as he sat by himself watching the children listen with rapt attention as GooYee spun his yarns. Instead of rejecting the offensive humans and treating their Chrysallaman friends as traitors, his people welcomed them with open arms. They didn't realize the danger of the interlopers.

  Dunnbull decided their minds were being poisoned by too much food and comfort. The successes of the recent warehouse raids had only served to buoy the influence of the humans, and even his soldiers looked forward to their suggestions of targets and combat. As the influence of the humans went up, Dunnbull's went down.

  "Abundant food and free medical care are making my people soft," he thought. "Starvation is better than selling your soul to alien devils!"

  Whatsit was particularly annoying. The tale about his defeat of the brutish Ezzcobar Rakkrr had spread through the ranks like wildfire. There wasn't a Chrysallaman soldier who hadn't felt the wrath of Rakkrr and to hear how Whatsit had beaten the bully raised him to legendary status. Instead of thinking of Whatsit as a traitor to his race, his soldiers revered him as a hero. Rakkrr had been Dunnbull's enforcer. Brutish and ape-like in appearance, Rakkrr's natural strength and fighting skill had beaten any opponent; that is until he faced Whatsit. The hat wearing Chrysallaman had spent most of his life on Earth and learned unique ways to defend himself. When Dunnbull had ordered Rakkrr to teach the meddling lizard a lesson in humility, Whatsit had made short work of the brute.

  To make matters worse, his men insisted on taking self-defense lessons from the interloper. Whatsit dubbed his fighting technique Kung Fu Chrik, and it was a real hit so to speak. Unarmed defensive and offensive moves with devastating kicks and fist thrusts were becoming commonplace during training exercises. Dunnbull couldn't go anywhere without seeing his soldiers practicing karate chops and shadowboxing. They called the patterns of movements a kata.

  The word 'Chrik' was becoming fashionable. At first, the word seemed to be a slur, but its use was now accepted. The younger Chrysallamans acted like the word was cute for some unknown reason while the older lizards regarded the term as shorthand for toughness. The General was afraid the Chrysallaman Empire was going to become known as the Chrik Empire if something didn't change soon.

  His commandos were beginning to adopt Whatsit's clothing habits. Many of them now wore colorful wide brimmed hats. The more outlandish the decoration on the crown and brim, the better it was liked. There was an active market for homemade necklaces clasped with stylized skulls of dead Asiddians. Long, green coats were a status symbol. Over 90% of his troops wore the garment coupled with a brown leather bandoleer equipped with a ray pistol and extra power modules. There were even contests to see who had an outfit that looked the most like Whatsit's. The entire situation was intolerable.

  Some of his soldiers looked so much like Whatsit, the General couldn't tell them apart. He wanted to ban the outfit but realized the backlash to the order would undermine his tentative command. The soldiers felt good about their new uniforms, fighting methods and warehouse triumphs. Their formations were tighter and more militaristic than they had been in years. Grudgingly, Dunnbull had to admit the influence of Whatsit and the humans was positive.

  "Enough is enough!" Dunnbull thought. "I need to arrange for the death of Whatsit and the humans as soon as possible. Once they're out of the way, I can get things around here back in proper order."

  Considering his options, Dunnbull came to the conclusion a simple heads-up warning to the Asiddians of the next warehouse attack would be the best way to get rid of the interlopers. Rising unnoticed from his rock, the General faded into the shadowy background. He knew how to get word to the Asiddians, and no one in the Chrysallaman Resistance Movement would be the wiser.

  ***

  Miguel Roemer and Princess Caroline Peregrine were at odds, and it looked like their relationship, if they really ever had one, was coming to an end.

  "I won't tolerate another touch from your alien body," Peregrine said in a raised voice.

  "Then stop splaying your feet! You spread yourself out like an amoeba and then have the nerve to get angry when someone steps on your toes!"

  "If you had anything other than the attention span of a gnat, you wouldn't stumble over those around you."

  "It's impossible to not pay attention to you. Your mouth is constantly running."

  "How dare you speak to me that way? You're nothing but a hot smelly alien in the presence of royalty."

  "Royalty my foot! You're nothing but a spoiled witch!"

  Caroline slapped Miguel hard. His enhanced muscles and dense bone structure easily took the blow, but the redness on his cheek was ample evidence the slap stung. He immediately turned on his heel and walked away, leaving the young woman alone with her thoughts.

  The glare in the Princess' eyes was at the same time angry and hurt. Roemer's criticism bit deeply. The only other time she'd been hurt, physically or emotionally, was in the early days of school. Three older classmates had threat
ened to beat her for daring to answer a question in history class. Caroline had been the only student to know the answer about the founder of the Asiddian culture. Her response had made some older classmates look like they hadn't studied. Their anger had almost led to Caroline having cuts, abrasions and a broken nose. Luckily, Hannah Wren had been in the neighborhood. She defended Caroline with a combination of fists and claws and thus forged a friendship for life. For the thousandth time, Caroline wondered if Hannah was still alive.

  Chagrined at her explosive response but still angry at Miguel for treating her like an ordinary female, Caroline sat down on the rocky floor of the cave and pondered her escape. General Harrier would be frantic in his search by now. It'd been days since she was taken captive, and even she didn't know where she was. The twists and turns as they avoided capture had confused her. She might be 10 kilometers from the palace or sitting just 100 meters below its foundation. She knew she must escape somehow and hide until help could arrive.