The Interstellar Police Force, Book One: The Historic Mission

by Raymond F. Klein

  The Interstellar Police Force

  Book One: The Historic Mission

  Raymond F. Klein

  Copyright © 2021 Raymond F. Klein

  The Interstellar Police Force

  Book One:

  The Historic Mission

  All rights reserved

  The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.

  No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the publisher.

  Cover design by: Jody Taylor

  Library of Congress Control Number: 2018675309

  Printed in the United States of America

  For Terri

  Prologue

  Tensions and security were both high when the eight inmates were led to the waiting transfer vehicle, higher than normal, and all due to one particular inmate, Prodor Moffit.

  The guards were alert and focused. All their weapons were pointed down, safeties off. Their fingers were on the trigger guards, not the triggers. No one wanted to accidentally discharge their weapon and start a panic. There were rumors that there would be an attempt to break Moffit out, being that this was the most vulnerable part of the prisoner transfer. Out in the open and walking to the transfer vehicle.

  As the shackled inmates were marched up the ramp of Interstellar Police Prison Transfer vehicle 964, Prodor Moffit glanced back at the throng of armed guards. He was quite pleased; this heightened security was all for his benefit. He gave them all a knowing grin and continued up the ramp with the other inmates.

  After the inmates were secured in their cells on the third deck, the transfer vehicle was readied for departure. Coordinates to the penitentiary on a neighboring planet were loaded into the navigational computer. The crew of IPPT 964 closed and sealed hatches, the invisible magnetic mooring lines were released.

  The two pilots in the cockpit engaged the ascent engines and the vehicle gently rose from the ground. As it pointed it’s bow toward the starry night sky for the fifteen day journey, the guards, watching from the ground, relaxed as the vehicle accelerated higher into the night. Their job was done.

  But no one knew at that moment that IPPT 964 would never make it to its destination.

  Chapter One

  The Interstellar Police Force cruiser slipped effortlessly through the great void of space, its long journey nearly complete. The cruiser entered the targeted solar system and maneuvered through the Kuiper Belt. This massive region of debris, remnants left behind from the formation of the solar system, was caught in an infinite orbit around the sun, stretching as far out as Neptune.

  The ship continued on, passing the massive gas planet, Jupiter. The large anticyclonic storm resembling a giant red eye watched as the vessel passed.

  The cruiser was the standard long range IPF vehicle. It was equipped with everything necessary that the two IPF Agents would need for their extended mission.

  The tri-level vehicle was long and sleek. The upper-most section encompassed the bridge. It was not very big, large enough for about five occupants. Located behind the pilot and co-pilot's chairs, toward the back of the bridge, was a metallic stairway descending to the second deck.

  The second deck held the living quarters, galley, science lab, medical center, and armory. Toward the far end of the deck was a large hatch, which led to the power plant, life support and propulsion systems.

  The lower third deck, which was accessible only by a security code entered into a small touch screen wall-mounted locking mechanism, was where the holding cells and morgue were located.

  The two police officers were in the science lab, sitting in front of one of the many computers in the room. The room was fairly large, with built-in computer systems and equipment covering most of the wall space. In the center, mounted to the floor, was a long table filled with handheld devices and stacks of paperwork.

  Both were humanoid in appearance, and both had been agents with the Interstellar Police Force for some time. The taller of the two, having more years and higher rank, was in command of this particular mission. He was six feet tall, of medium build, and was dressed in the standard issue IPF uniform. He had short, thin, wispy hair which was barely noticeable. The eyes were large and dark, iris and pupils of the same shade with no sclera. His skin was smooth and pale, his nose and mouth were small.

  He was third generation IPF; his grandfather was one of the founding fathers of the agency. His father rose to the rank of Commissioner. It was in his blood. So, the day after he became old enough to join the force, he did not hesitate. And he rose through the ranks. In his third year as a detective he made a name for himself by tracking down and arresting one of the most notorious psychopathic killers of his time. Which was why he volunteered for this mission.

  His partner was an up-and-coming agent. He was of the same race as the commander and five years his junior. He kept his head shaved and had a slightly larger nose with higher cheekbones. He had a muscular build and took his physical training very seriously. He graduated top of his class with degrees in criminology and psychology. His mother wanted him to be a doctor. But the allure of law enforcement had intrigued him since he was a young boy. He read all he could about the Interstellar Police Force from its conception, when the Counsels of the three main planets of their solar system realized they needed a unified police force, to how it grew into an elite police agency serving and protecting most of the known worlds in their galaxy and others.

  The commander and his partner spoke to each other in a foreign tongue. After a few moments, they stood and walked to another set of computers. They stood in front of the floor to ceiling computer system while the commander's partner touched the screen and activated it.

  The computer hummed and came to life, then emitted two thin red laser beams that struck each of them harmlessly in the foreheads. Then, the beams began to horizontally fan out, until it was the width of their heads.

  It started quickly oscillating up and down.

  Chapter Two

  They had been watching, and studying, and gathering information on the human race for eons. Ever since the first amphibians crawled out of that primordial soup and filled their newly developing lungs with air.

  They watched how the early mammals scurried across the Mesozoic terrain, evading the footsteps and jaws of the larger reptilians of that period. These small mammals did their best to survive in that harsh landscape. And after millions of years those reptiles, the dinosaurs, finally died out and the mammals were allowed to evolve from small quadruped mammals to bi-pedal primates.

  They chronicled the events of the first Homo Sapien, awkwardly taking that first step to stand erect. They watched this small planet's population grow. And They studied everything.

  They collected the works of all the great minds of the early times, like Socrates and Plato, and They marveled at the genius of Archimedes.

  They were mesmerized at the immense talent that came out of the Renaissance period. The beautiful brush strokes of Sandro Botticelli’s Birth of Venus. The marble masterpiece of Michelagelo’s Pieta. And Their favorite, the works of Leonardo Da Vinci, from his great collection of paintings and sketches to his many inventions. They knew them all.

  They could remember, so long ago in Their history, the exhilaration and excitement They felt on that dark moonless night when They first gazed up, using a crude instrument, and viewed the multitude of
stars in the Heavens. As did Galileo Galilei, on his dark moonless night.

  Then, about the time Isaac Newton defined the law of universal gravitation, They started to lose interest in this small inconsequential planet. They had other priorities. The human race by no means was the only race They studied. There were hundreds of thousands of populated planets out there. Many of which were ready to be indoctrinated, but the human race was just not physically or mentally ready yet. The gathering of the information was just protocol. After all, this was still considered a third class world. A world to be watched and its histories collected and studied with the intent that one day, perhaps, They would introduce Themselves.

  Over the centuries, it had always been the job of the curator of The Great Antiquities Museum to oversee all items of historical interest that were brought into the museum, and to manage the information and histories of all known populated worlds. Presently, these duties were performed by the current curator of the museum, Curator Aggister Bancus.

  Each world had its own computer file. And within that file, folders and sub-folders of all their accomplishments. For instance, one world's file would have a folder marked “Inventions” which would consist of sub-folders within, in chronological order of all of that particular planet's innovations. One planet’s file could hold hundreds of folders. With headings such as: Inventors / Inventions, Political Leaders, Entrepreneurs, Art and Entertainment, Criminal Activities, Wars, Deaths, Planetary Weather, and so on.

  This was the same for the human race as well, although their file was not as big as some of the others. Even though the human race was not looked upon with interest any longer, it was still the job of Curator Bancus to observe and gather all the information he could on the human race and file it away into the museum's “Anthology of Worlds” computer. This way, They would have something to reference when it was time for the human race.

  Usually he performed these duties during his lunch hour.

  He collected information on the first shots fired at Lexington.

  Napoleon Bonaparte crowning himself Emperor. Then turning the armies of France into the greatest military power of its time. Curator Bancus filed away Bonaparte’s military victories, his conquests, his exile, and then his death.

  He chronicled and filed away the invention of the gasoline combustion engine. The beginning of the Industrial Revolution. Then that momentous day on December seventeenth, when two brothers took to the air in powered flight.

  And when Albert Einstein published his “Theory of Relativity”, Curator Bancus found a kindred spirit. A man of science, a physicist and mathematician as himself. He read all of Einstein’s papers, even though the theories were not new to Them.

  The human folder marked War was filling up. Not a surprise to the Curator. Most populated worlds had their differences with each other. And the human race was not an exception.

  He collected information on the killing of Archduke Ferdinand of Austria and his wife Sofia, which started a great war that involved the majority of this little planet.

  Then, shortly before the Great War ended, Tsar Nicholas II was forced to abdicate after the Russian revolution. Later he, his wife, and five children were all arrested, then all executed, along with the family doctor and personal servants.

  When the National Socialist Party in Germany elected their new leader, Curator Bancus was not surprised. He’d seen things like this before on other worlds. He watched the newly elected leader rise to power and become Chancellor.

  Then came the invasion of Poland and the start of another great war. Which again involved the majority of their planet. And as with all wars, its eventual end with the unveiling of the nuclear age.

  But it was not all business for Curator Bancus. He did enjoy the human form of entertainment, which was much different from Their own. He enjoyed listening to Glenn Miller and even taught himself how to swing dance. But being that Aggister Bancus is a short, slightly pudgy individual, his colleagues thought he was having a seizure when they witnessed his swing dancing for the first time. So, from then on he danced strictly in the privacy of his own home. He could also sing along with all of the Rodgers and Hammerstein show tunes.

  He enjoyed the films of Charlie Chaplin so much that he copied them all so he could watch them at home at his own leisure. Then, he discovered Harold Lloyd and Buster Keaton and did the same. Then when the small screen became very popular with the human race, he found more talents to copy, like the zany antics of that crazy redhead, Lucy, and the western adventures of Hopalong Cassidy.

  Curator Bancus worked diligently, collecting everything he could on this little planet. He marveled at how far the human race had come when they sent the first artificial satellite into orbit on top of that controlled explosion. And he truly felt sad for them when, in the human year of 1959, a little Beechcraft Bonanza aircraft crashed in Iowa killing the three talented musicians it carried.

  One night, in Their year of 4045, Aggister Bancus was home enjoying dinner and watching one of his many copies of human entertainment. Just about the time Lucy was begging Ricky to be in his Hollywood picture, Aggister Bancus got a communication.

  A catastrophe.

  A fire.

  It was never determined how exactly the fire started or why the fire suppression system did not activate. But forty-five percent of the Great Antiquities Museum’s artifacts were lost in the blaze. Objects of Their past. And the past of others. Including the immense collection of files in the “Anthology of Worlds” computer. All that millennia of collecting and filing was lost, in what was later known as The Great Fire of 4045.

  Technicians spent countless hours retrieving files from the charred remains of the “Anthology” computer. Some files were lost forever, some fragmented. Fortunately, the files that were completely lost were of worlds that had been friends of Theirs for many, many years. So, the loss was not badly felt.

  But for the human race, ninety-eight percent of their file was gone. And, if it wasn’t for one technician, nothing would have been left. After working several days and nights he was finally able to extract a sub-folder from the “Arts and Entertainment” file. This little folder was all They had on the human race. This little folder was all the reference They could retrieve. This little sub-folder from the “Arts and Entertainment” file was not the many plays penned by William Shakespeare or the complete collection of Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart. Nor was it the macabre writings of Edgar Allan Poe. Instead, it was an obscure little folder entitled, “The Worst Cinematic Productions of The Human Race - 1935 to 1959.”

  After the Great Fire of 4045 all interest in the human race, and their little planet they called Earth, was put aside. And after a very long while, forgotten altogether. After all, they were only a third class world.

  That all changed, eight months ago.

  Chapter Three

  The eerie red glow of the computer's oscillating lasers danced rhythmically off the walls of the science lab. The shadows from the two agents leapt quickly back and forth from wall to wall. Then, the lasers abruptly turned off.

  The commander looked at his partner and announced, “Ah! There we go. We are now speaking the language of the indigenous people we must infiltrate. With all the vernacular and modern slang needed to move unnoticed among their populace.”

  “And for the record,” his partner said, “I’m confirming that I too am speaking the same language and hearing and comprehending everything you speak.” He looked at the commander with satisfaction. “The Replication Computer is functioning normally.” He looked over his computer console then announced, “We’ve entered the solar system. Second stage of entry should commence in approximately fifteen minutes.”

  “Good, we’re right on schedule,” the commander said. “Then let's proceed to the next stage and replicate ourselves into the human form.”

  Again his partner touched the screen and activated the computer. And again it hummed and emitted the lasers, striking them as before. This time the beam wide
ned the width of their bodies and started to oscillate from head to foot.

  They started to change. Spiraling strands of DNA started to restructure. Muscles took on different shapes. Cells began to metabolically take on new forms. Bone started to twist, tissue to reshaped. Their skin changed to a different shade of hue. They felt no pain but could feel their bodies transforming. Then, as before, the beam abruptly turned off. The transformations were complete.

  The commander looked down at his hand. Much different from the one he was used to. He brought his hand up and touched his newly formed face. He could not help but grin. He felt the curvature of his smiling mouth. The tip of his nose, ears, the smaller eyes. And then something strange. Hair above each eye. What an odd thing! They had both studied the one and only folder they had on the human race, but still he could not believe it.

  He continued to explore. His fingers touched his forehead, then something unfamiliar to his race. Thick hair upon his head. Not the anemic strands that are genetically found within their race, but thick, black, wavy collar length hair, combed straight back with the part over his left eye.

  The commander could not hold his elation, “I am a human male! Look at me. I’m a human. . .” He stopped in mid-sentence and hooked a thumb into his waistband. Pulled his uniform trousers outward and peered in. He gave a disgusted look and said, “Yes, I am definitely a human male.”

  “Th, then . . . what the hell am I?”

  The commander heard the quiver and fear in his partner's voice. He looked over to him, then to the floor where he was standing. “OH, MY!” he said loudly, not being able to hide the shock in his voice. “Oh! I mean I . . . I’m not sure?” His partner was definitely not a human male, or female for that matter.

  “What am I?” his partner asked. “What the hell happened to me? This isn’t right!”