The Interstellar Police Force, Book One: The Historic Mission

by Raymond F. Klein

  “You could do so much more with 100!”

  Trent could see the other inmates on the left side slowly getting up from their bunks and walking to the cell doors. Just then Genghis emerged from below decks. “Breach is contained.”

  “Hey, Genghis,” Trent said, pausing the recording. “Come over here. You're gonna want to see this.”

  Trent quickly briefed Genghis on what he’d seen so far then continued playing the recording.

  Moffit said, “What are you getting at, Mallton? That was our arrangement.”

  “Yes, it was, but I started thinking . . .”

  “That was your first mistake.”

  “Yeah right,” Mallton said, then started to pace back and forth. “Like I was saying. I started thinking, how could I really live with myself, knowing that I helped you escape. All those things you’ve done. The things you would probably do if you were out. No amount of money would make me feel good about the whole thing.” Mallton stopped pacing and looked Prodor Moffit square in the eyes. “So, listen up. Deal's off.”

  Prodor was silent for a moment then stated, “May I remind you, Mallton, that I still have fans on the outside. And we know where your wife and daughter are.”

  “Don't you threaten my family!” Mallton said, raising his voice.

  “Your family is as involved in this as you are,” Moffit said even louder. Then he changed his tone. “That money was for your little girl, remember. You want her well, don’t you? Hopper is an excellent hospital.”

  “Well, that’s just it. You see, she was never really sick. I needed a story to bait you. We just wanted the money. And you had it. In fact, my wife and I had been planning this for months. Every little detail, all the way down to that anonymous tip that got your fans arrested five days ago. You know, the fans I was supposedly working with. Guess you hadn’t heard about that, huh? And besides, I moved my family. I took the necessary steps and got them to a safe place. So, you see, the arrangement that you thought we had was 100,000. But, for me, it was just 50,000.

  “So, Prodor, this is how it’s going to go down. We’re going to reach our destination on schedule. Then, hand you off to the warden at the new penitentiary on Tarket, where you’ll serve out the remainder of your sentence . . . oh I’m sorry. Did I just bring up a sore subject? How long was that sentence again?” He mocked like he was trying to remember, “Oh, yeah! The remainder of your natural life, plus thirty years. Too bad!

  “After the transfer is made, we return to Ashlar, and I put in for retirement and retire a wealthy man. So, tell me, Prodor Moffit, who’s the great mastermind now?”

  Prodor was livid and shot his arms out at Mallton, but the cell bars held Moffit’s hands back, so that he could barely grasp the guard's uniform. Mallton gave Prodor a slight smile, satisfied with himself that his planning had gone so well from the very start. He took one step back from Moffit’s clutching fingers. “I’m sorry to disappoint you. I won’t be down here again until we land. Hope you have a nice trip.”

  “No,” Prodor Moffit calmly said. “I’m sorry.” And smiled back at Mallton.

  Unbeknownst to Mallton, he inadvertently stepped back into the Kill Zone. A long tentacle emerged from between the bars of the cell behind him. It quickly wrapped three times around the guard's neck in a whip-like fashion.

  Prodor enjoyed the look of fear on Mallton’s face. He always did. It was the fear of knowledge. The knowledge of one’s death being close at hand. Prodor felt that familiar feeling coursing through his veins. Its warmth spread throughout his body. It had been so long, that he reveled in it.

  The tentacle pulled Mallton back until his body painfully struck the cell bars. He could smell the sour breath of the inmate that held him tight. He was quietly laughing into Mallton’s ear.

  Prodor Moffit said, “Did you really think I hadn’t already planned for something like this to happen? I still have other fans. Did you think the ones you were working with and had arrested were the only ones in my employ? Now, my arrangement was that you were never meant to get the second payment. The first 50,” he waved a dismissive hand, “matters not to me. And you and the other guards were never meant to get back to Ashlar.

  “And when my fans do finally find your wife and daughter,” he paused for dramatic affect. “Your wife will watch your daughter die first. But not to worry, the three of you will be together very soon.”

  Prodor Moffit gave a glance to the inmate that was holding Mallton. Mallton tried to say something, but the tentacle constricted. Mallton made a guttural sound. His face turned red. A vertebra could be heard snapping. His black eyes glazed over, then went gray, and his body went limp. Another tentacle, smaller than the one that held Mallton’s lifeless body, came through the bars and removed the guard's security badge. He released Mallton, who fell to the ground in a heap. The small tentacle reached out and swiped the badge through the locking mechanism. There was a loud click and the cell door slowly swung open.

  Trent stopped the recording, “We’d better get a call into headquarters, give them our report up to now. See if they can locate Mallton’s wife and daughter and get them into protective custody. If it's not too late.”

  “Agreed,” Genghis said. “What I don’t get is, if Mallton was never planning on going through with getting Moffit out, why put a portable Replicator on board?”

  “Well, there could have been a myriad of different reasons,” Trent responded. “If Mallton was working with Prodor’s people, he could have loaded it to show good faith. Maybe Prodor’s fans were watching his house and Mallton knew. Could have been a lot of reasons.”

  Genghis began collecting evidence from around the ship. Starting with the guards. He collected everything he could. Bullets were extracted, laser burn entry wounds and bodies were photographed. Fibers were removed from their uniforms with tweezers that Genghis had a difficult time manipulating. Skin tissue samples were removed from under fingernails as well as from the knuckles. He then turned his attention to the prisoners, and did the same. Everything he found was logged and bagged. Printed on the labels of each bag was the location and time found. He then went to the second deck and started gathering shell casings.

  Genghis used the TU37 teleportation unit to teleport everything to the cruiser’s science lab for later evaluation. The teleporter was a fairly large unit, a little over a foot long and eight inches tall, with a computer screen and keyboard on the top.

  Meanwhile Jeff rewound and viewed the security recordings again. Something he thought he heard and just wanted to make sure. It was something Prodor Moffit said. It was something he always said, in transcripts and recordings sent to the media outlets. In messages taunting the IPF to try to find and stop him.

  It was also known as his rallying call to his many followers, and he had many. Most of these individuals started out with just a morbid fascination with him after reading the many news articles and books that were written about him, before and after his capture. Of course, before his capture he was just known as the serial killer the press dubbed “The Butcher,” which Prodor detested. So, he started writing to the media outlets, correcting them on misinformation and explaining his many agendas. These writings just further enhanced his charismatic appeal to his followers.

  His followers were mostly the type of people who were lost, lonely, and looking for someone to follow. A father figure for some. A mentor to others. Someone to love them. For whatever reason, they would seek him out through his large network of followers. These followers were later coined in the media as Moffit’s Fans. The IPF tried on several occasions to infiltrate this network, but could never succeed. Rumors abound that Prodor had IPF agents on the payroll, but this was never substantiated.

  The majority of his fans were foot soldiers and were not well educated. Some came from broken homes, others were orphaned or just lonely, and were easily manipulated. They would do whatever he asked of them. If he needed a certain item, they would steal it. If he needed refuge, they would find it. If he
needed someone silenced, they would do the silencing. And if Prodor needed someone for his obsession, they would do the kidnapping. And when Moffit was done, they would be the ones to get rid of the bodies. Moffit would instruct his fans to place the bodies dramatically in public areas where they would be easily found. He never thought of it as very sporting or fun if the IPF could never find the bodies.

  Many of his fans were eventually caught doing Prodor’s bidding. But they would never betray him. Out of love, respect, but mostly out of fear. And fear for good reason. They had seen what Prodor Moffit was capable of doing when angered – and most disturbing, when not angered. Prodor had, in the past, gotten rid of a few of his fans. There were various reasons why Moffit would eliminate one of his own. Disloyalty, insubordination, cowardice. Once, he just didn’t like the way one looked. But mostly for trying to turn him in and collect the many rewards posted for his capture. Even the ones already in custody and behind bars trying to make deals for leniency would be found dead in their cells or in the exercise yard. If he wanted you dead, he would find a way. A sign to the others, to respect and obey him.

  Trent found the spot he was looking for on the recording. He ran it back just a little and hit play. Mallton’s body hit the ground and flopped over. While the tentacle was swiping the security badge, he heard it. He stopped the recording and ran it back again just a little. Turning up the volume all the way, he hit play. Jeff could hear the hiss of the ambient sound. Then Prodor Moffit inhaled deeply as if he was smelling the sweet fragrance of some exotic perfume and then he said it, very quietly. Like a man viewing a woman of great beauty. A woman that he loved very, very deeply.

  “Ah, the beauty of violence.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  After two days, they had taken photographs and made recordings of what they found. They gathered up all the forensic evidence and packed up equipment. Boxes of the guards' and inmates' personal effects were electronically teleported over to the cruiser, along with all the bodies. They would be stored in the morgue on the third deck for the duration of their mission. Trent and Genghis were ready to depart.

  The day before, Trent brought the cruiser closer to the transfer ship. They slept in their respective cabins and ate in the galley. They could not bring themselves to spend any more time than necessary in the transfer ship.

  They secured the crime scene and Genghis Khan exited the ship and headed for the cruiser. Jeff Trent stood in the middle of the second deck of IPPT 964. He overlooked the common room, surveyed the room from one end to the other. He could imagine the echoing sound of gun fire ripping through the ship. The sounds of screaming, wounded men. The fear one feels when they’re about to die. And now, it was eerily quiet. Except for the normal tapping and popping sounds a ship makes when it’s completely shut down. He gave the room one last look then turned and headed for the stairway.

  Trent stepped out of the back of the Divco. He shut both doors and walked over to the cruiser. Genghis was emerging from below decks and hopped over the console between the bucket seats and took his place in the passenger side. Trent slid behind the steering wheel, closed the door and started the engine of the replicated 1959 Ford Thunderbird.

  “I got a communique back from headquarters. I put a copy on your desk in your cabin,” Genghis said.

  “I’ll read it later, what did it say?”

  “Well, to paraphrase,” Genghis stated, while flipping through pages that were grasped between his canine digits, “they're pleased with our investigation up to this point and they’ve looked into Mallton’s background. He's been with the Force for twenty years. Not a stellar member, he was written up a couple of times for protocol breaches. He was a field agent for five years until he roughed up a suspect in a high stakes bank robbery. Turned out, the suspect was an informant working for us who had infiltrated the group two years earlier. After beating up a high profile informant, his fate was kind of sealed. Shortly after that he was demoted to a correctional officer and had been a prison guard for the past fifteen years.”

  “From a field agent to corrections? That had to hurt. One usually starts a career in corrections.”

  “No doubt.” Genghis continued, turned over a couple of pages. “One wife, Marnet, married for ten years with one daughter, Kaylee. It seems that they were having money problems for the past couple of years. Which would explain why he got involved with Moffit.” Genghis looked up to Trent. “Obviously, he wasn’t thinking straight.”

  He read on. “Oh, yeah, the so-called safe place Mallton moved his family to? It was a second house that was in his wife’s name. It was given to her when her parents died. Now, here’s where it gets really depressing. We found the house in about an hour, which means, it probably took Moffit’s fans about two hours to find it. The house was empty when we got there, and it appeared empty for quite some time. There were signs of a struggle. A little girl's shoe was found by the back door.” The Doberman looked up to Trent, his voice cracking, “Jeff, she’s only eight.” He looked back at his papers, shuffled through them, cleared his throat and said, “They’re out now trying to find them. As of yet,” he threw the papers into the duffle bag that was on the back seat, “no luck.”

  “My God,” Trent said, looking into the clear blue Earth sky. “Prodor Moffit is a million miles away and still inflicting pain on people.” He put the vehicle in gear and slowly pulled away and onto the roadway, leaving a cloud of dust in their wake.

  “Oh, and on a side note,” Genghis added as they drove on, “they’re sorry and can’t explain why I was replicated into the form of a human canine. They think it might be a computer programming problem. They're running diagnostic tests now to determine what exactly happened.”

  Trent looked at his partner and started to smirk. “They think it could be a computer programming problem?” He glanced at Genghis from nose to tail. The smirk started to turn to a chuckle.

  “Yeah, that’s what they said.”

  Trent started to laugh, as he hadn’t in such a long time. He wasn’t sure if it was the stress of the mission or not. But he thought it was pretty funny.

  “What’s so damn funny?” Genghis asked.

  Trent looked at his partner – the partner he’d been with for so many years, his friend – and started laughing even harder. “They're running diagnostics . . . to find out why you’re a dog?”

  The laughter was contagious. “Yeah, well they better. I could get fleas, you know.” Genghis started to laugh as well. This got Trent laughing so hard the Thunderbird started to weave back and forth.

  Trent looked at Genghis then did an overly dramatic double take. “Hey, what the hell! You’re a talking human canine!” They both broke out in hysterics.

  “Yeah! I know. Go figure!”

  “Hey! There’s a tree. Do you need to use it?”

  Genghis laughed, then paused and looked at Trent, “What do you mean use it?” That got Trent going even harder than before. He could feel muscles in his new face beginning to ache. Genghis continued as well.

  This went on for a few more minutes.

  The top of the Thunderbird was down, the sun was high and the cool air rushed in as they proceeded down the road. Genghis took a paw to his eye and wiped away a tear and sighed loudly. He asked for his holographic computer to be displayed and started to access several different screens. After a few moments, “Scuttling charges are armed and ready.” He looked over at Jeff.

  Trent took in a deep and calming breath and was quiet for a moment or two, then said, “Let’s just get it over with.”

  Genghis touched his computer, “And in . . . 3 . . . 2 . . . 1. . .”

  Interstellar Police Prison Transfer vehicle 964 was immediately encased in a round electromagnetic field of orange and red. The aura started to brighten and grow in size. The silhouette of the 1948 Divco within started to pulsate and slowly change with the expanding ball.

  Trent glanced into his rear view mirror as they traveled farther down the road. He could see the el
ectromagnetic field grow larger in size and brilliance. What he could not hear was the electric crackling sound and snapping coming from within the field.

  Engulfing the small tree, the field grew, and as it did the silhouette of the Divco changed ever more. The electromagnetic field was now sixty-five feet in circumference and the Divco had morphed back into the silhouette of the transfer ship.

  The electric crackling grew louder, and bright flashes started to erupt and jump around within the field. The orange red glow of the field changed to a glowing, pulsating white. The crackling increased in volume. Then, in the center of the field a black dot appeared, known to astrophysicists as a gravitational singularity, the area where the spacetime curvature becomes infinite. It started as the size of a golf ball, but slowly grew to the size of a softball.

  The electromagnetic field began to rotate around the singularity. The outer section of the field started to bend and curve into it. The field started to grow smaller as it was pulled into the black void. Smaller and smaller. The bright flashes popped off faster, the crackling now a steady buzz. And when the electromagnetic field was almost completely drawn into the black dot itself, there was a bright flash and a loud bang!

  And then, nothing.

  The only thing remaining was the burned stump of the tree that Interstellar Police Prison Transfer vehicle 964 had been leaning against.

  Chapter Fourteen

  They drove for over thirty minutes without a word. Jeff Trent admired the landscape that was changing as they proceeded down the road. There were more trees and greener grass. He saw wildlife, some large, some small and wondered what they were called. Genghis Khan spent his time on the computer in front of him. It was automatically gathering information on the surroundings, constantly updating itself.

  “There’s a large city about an hour and a half from here,” he announced. “Well, not large to our standards. But a pretty good size.”