“Yeah, big cat?”
“Hit it!”
...SOMEWHERE DEEP IN SPACE
Ultra Commander Foom Aglian sat in his chair on the bridge of his ship, The Foom’s Vengeance, overlooking the flurry of activity of his crew. They were running back and forth, filling out forms, checking systems, and generally preparing for the battle to come.
The main screen showed the planet of Yalwoogar at 5,000-times zoom. It appeared to be directly in front of the ship, but they were still four hours away. Ultra Commander Foom Aglian allowed himself a moment of bliss in knowing that soon another world would fall to his crushing army. He so loved destroying planets. His favorite part was when they sent in the invading forces and started tearing the native inhabitants to bits as they screamed in horror. It made him giggle so.
“Number one,” he yelled in his booming voice.
“Yes, Ultra Commander Foom Aglian,” said his second-in-command, a middle-aged man who stood tall and proud, with sufficient facial scarring that proved his worth in battle.
“Are all of the ships prepared for the connection protocol?”
“We are starting the connection now, sir.”
“Put it on screen.”
Yalwoogar was soon replaced by the beauty of the Foom Fleet. The entirety of their civilization had left the world of Foom, leaving it desolated and lifeless, deciding instead to live out their days in the vastness of space. No more were they tied down to any one planet. Instead, they hunted worlds with thriving civilizations, studied them, and then destroyed them with glee.
Basically, the Fooms were downright bastards, and that made Ultra Commander Foom Aglian proud indeed.
The Foom Fleet consisted of twenty warships that, when connected, looked somewhat like a small moon. In this formation, a vast shield was deployed that handled the duty of protecting the main ship. On top of that, it allowed weapons to be fired from any point, all facing outward, of course.
To the right of the main screen hung a detailed painting of Ultra Commander Foom Aglian. His scars were legendary, especially the one that ran from the top of his skull, down across his eye, and ending at the edge of his chin. That scar had been given to him by his father, former Ultra Commander Foom Equid, on the night of the ascension battle. All of Equid’s sons had died in that battle, except for Aglian. He had used skill and cunning in his battle, just as he had done in every battle since. Muscle could only get you so far against muscle, but creativity gave an edge that ended Equid and set Aglian as the new Ultra Commander of Foom.
The sound of clanking metal reverberated throughout the ship as the connections continued.
“Sir,” said Number One, “the connections are going as planned. Do you still wish to have the main relays connected for a full assault?”
“I’ve been thinking about that,” he replied without looking at his officer. “We know that these Yalwoogarians are a pacifist people, right?”
“Yes, sir.”
“No weaponry at all, correct?”
“None that we could determine, sir.”
“Wouldn’t it be fun, then, to just land on the planet and take them in one-to-one fashion?”
His officer grinned. “Just like the old days, sir.”
“Exactly. It’s not very often that we get to beat-up on a defenseless world, after all.”
“That’s true, sir.”
“Just like those public service commercials on the video channels always say, ‘Bullying is right and good, everyone should do it.’”
“Wonderful commercials, sir.”
“Except that not everyone can do it,” noted Ultra Commander Foom Aglian. “If they could, there wouldn’t be any bullies because they’d have nobody to push around.”
“Hadn’t thought of that, sir.”
“That’s why I’m the Ultra Commander, Number One,” he said off-handedly as he noticed something different on his bridge. Sitting off in the corner were three small white boxes. They each had a little tube on their bottom sides and three wires connecting from one hemisphere to the other. “What are those boxes, Number One?”
His first officer walked over to the boxes and carried them back. He then summoned Science Officer Foom Chipklo for a look.
“What do you suppose these are?” Ultra Commander Foom Aglian asked.
“They look like bombs to me, sir,” Chipklo replied, twisting one of the devices in his hand while studying it from all angles.
“Where do you suppose they came from?”
“I couldn’t say, sir.”
“My guess, sir,” said Number One, “is that the Yalwoogar are more resourceful than we had originally assumed.”
“You think they put these on my ship?”
“I can’t imagine anyone else who would have, sir.”
“But we are still four hours away from them, Number One.”
“Yes, sir.”
This gave Ultra Commander Foom Aglian pause. If these Yalwoogar had some means of transporting explosives to his ship from that distance, then maybe they were much worthier foes than he had expected.
“Search all ships immediately and tell me if any more of these things are found.”
Two hours later, Number One reported back that no other bombs had been located. That made the point even more telling. These damned Yalwoogarians had not only sent the bombs along, they purposefully targeted his ship in the process. He smiled at this.
“We may have a worthy foe, yet, Number One.”
“Yes, sir.”
“The question now is why haven’t they activated these things?”
“Couldn’t say, sir.”
“It could be that they need to be closer to active them, sir,” offered Chipklo.
“You’re saying that they could transport those bombs to us from four hours away, but they can’t activate them from that far out?”
“It’s just a thought, sir.”
“And a stupid one at that.” He signaled two of his security officers over. When they arrived, he said, “Take Science Officer Chipklo below and beat him with a whip rod until he passes out, and then throw him into space.”
“But, sir, I was just…”
“Do you want me to make your sentence worse, Chipklo?”
“Worse than beating me unconscious and then throwing me into space, you mean?”
“Precisely.”
“I’m not sure how you could make that worse. I mean…”
“Silence!” One of the guards punched Chipklo, knocking him to his knees.
“Well done, guard. Take him below and beat him unconscious, as I had previously commanded. But then wake him up, and stick his right foot out of the airlock for thirty seconds. Then chop it off. Do the same thing to his other foot. Repeat this with his hands. After that, throw his whole body out into space while he’s still awake.” He turned to look at Chipklo with challenging eyes. “Does that sound worse?”
“Yes, sir,” Chipklo replied with a look of admiration. “Your wisdom knows no bounds, sir.”
“Oh, it’s nothing,” Ultra Commander Foom Aglian replied with a wave of his hand. “I just have loads of practice, is all. Now, take him away.”
As they dragged the science officer out of the room, Number One held up one of the bombs and said, “What should we do with these, sir? Chipklo was our best bomb tech.”
“Oh, we don’t need him. It’s obvious what we have to do.”
“It is?”
“Of course, Number One. You’ve seen plenty of television shows in your youth, yes?”
“Yes, sir,” Number One replied. “My favorite was Space Blood Expedition.”
“The original or The Younger Crew?”
“The original for me, sir.”
“I preferred The Younger Crew, myself. Probably because the special effects were better. Though I must admit that I enjoyed The Problem with Pubbles episode from the original series.”
“That was a classic, sir.”
“Anyway, let’s get back to this b
omb before it detonates.” He reached out and snatched one away from his first officer.
“Do you know how to defuse it, sir?”
“Come now, Number One, you just said that you enjoyed watching Space Blood Expedition.”
“Yes, sir?”
“Well, think back on that and use your senses, man.”
Number One could only furrow his brow and blink a few times in response.
“It’s easy,” Ultra Commander Foom Aglian stated as he pulled forth his knife. “You’ve got a bomb here with three wires: red, yellow, and green. Everyone knows that you always cut the green one.”
A NEW MISSION
The bridge of The SSMC Reluctant was quiet aside from the gentle hum that she always carried with her.
Captain Don Harr sat in the command chair looking forlornly at all of the stations in front of him. They were all empty.
Everyone was on Fantasy Planet enjoying a much-needed vacation, except for the ship’s robot, Geezer, who was down in engineering working on some new invention that would undoubtedly put the crew in some form of jeopardy as he worked the kinks out. Harr hadn’t asked what precisely that invention would be because he was simply too depressed to care.
But sulking wasn’t his style, and he’d had about enough of it.
He grabbed a quick shower, shaved, put on some fresh clothes and headed off to engineering. Try as he might, though, he couldn’t make himself feel any happier.
“You look bummed, chief,” said Geezer in his monotone voice.
“I’ve had better days.”
“Still thinking about the good doctor?”
“I thought she was the one, Geezer, you know?”
“Not really, honcho.”
“We were so good together. We got each other’s jokes …”
“You tell jokes?”
“… we liked the same foods, the same movies, the same books, and we even shared the same favorite color.”
“Coquelicot?”
“Correct,” Harr answered sadly.
“So what’s the problem?”
“Her revolving bedroom door.”
During their last mission to Kallian, he had met and fallen in love with Dr. Rella DeKella, one of the lead scientists on the planet. During their time together, Harr learned that Kallians had very odd sexual techniques when compared to those of Harr’s homeworld of Segnal. Unfortunately, he had made the mistake of showing Rella some Segnalian moves. She subsequently shared these moves with others on her planet, and that had ignited a sexual revolution that Dr. Rella DeKella headed up. This would have been amazing, except for the fact that Captain Don Harr wasn’t exactly known for his personal prowess in the sack. He was now a mediocre lover on yet another planet. As for Rella, she became so consumed in her new, well, “position,” that Harr was nothing more than a footnote in her daily activities. He tried to be supportive, but it wasn’t in his nature to play second-fiddle to an entire planet of lusting people.
“I know I’m not much help in the love department, big cat, but that seems kind of petty.”
“Oh?”
“Again, what do I know? I’m just saying that breaking up with someone because they have a doorway that you don’t like sounds silly.”
“I didn’t mean that the door was literally revolving, Geezer,” Harr said. “It’s a figure of speech.”
“Ah,” Geezer said as he wiped his hands with a workman’s rag. “Didn’t catch that.”
“Basically, she’s been sleeping around a lot,” Harr said and then caught himself. “Again, not literal. I mean she’s been having sex with a bunch of people.”
“And that’s a bad thing?”
“Depends on who you ask, I suppose.”
“Jezden would approve.”
“Exactly.” Harr cracked his neck and then leaned back against the wall and crossed his arms. “It’s not like we ever said we would be exclusive to each other or anything, and it’s my fault for showing her those Segnalian moves in the first place, but I didn’t expect her to turn into such a, well …”
“I think Jezden would call her a slut?” Geezer offered.
“Not a very kind way to put it,” Harr replied with a grimace.
“I’ve never heard Jezden use that term in a negative way.”
Harr grunted at that. Of course Jezden wouldn’t look at it negatively. He was a slut. Frankly, it was almost a shame that Jezden and Rella hadn’t fallen for each other. They would have made a formidable force on Kallian, and probably the universe as a whole.
Geezer had turned back and was working on feeding wires into a medium-sized silver box. Harr couldn’t help but feel the pull of curiosity as to what that box represented, but he couldn’t muster the desire to ask.
“To be fair, prime,” Geezer said as he continued his work, “we did basically destroy her regular career, so you can’t really blame her for seeking some other way to make a living.”
“She doesn’t have to seek it out ten times a day,” Harr spat, remembering how he had tried to keep her satisfied, failing miserably in each attempt. He’d tried taking Stiffy pills, which helped to keep Rella’s attention for about ten minutes before she’d moved on to one of her other lovers. True to its word, though, the pill kept Harr stiff as a board for another 3 hours. He’d even tried LowWag, a Kallian pill that promised virility. That turned out to only work on the Kallian anatomy, though, which was because Kallians had tails and LowWag, as it turned out, was a drug directed at the Kallian tail. It sort of worked on Harr as well, but only in that his rump wiggled around happily, albeit uncontrollably, whenever he was in the presence of Rella.
“That bad, huh?”
“I’m amazed she can even walk.”
He shook himself and took a deep breath. It was time to stop this. He was sad, yes, but there was no point living in the past.
Though it took a fair bit of effort, he asked, “What are you working on?”
“Replication system,” Geezer answered.
“What’s it do?”
“Replicates things.”
Harr sighed.
“Sorry, chief,” Geezer said as he sealed one of the connectors. “Goozer contacted me a few days back with a problem he’d been having.”
“The miniature replica of yourself from The Ship?” asked Harr.
The Ship had been created as a replica of The SSMC Reluctant by Geezer a long time ago in order to test out his original implementation of the GONE Drive. The robot, being somewhat egotistical in Harr’s estimation, had also built a miniature copy of himself to go along with it. He named his tiny doppelgänger “Goozer.”
“Unless you know of another Goozer, yep.”
“Right. Go on.”
“Goozer has been working on a replication system for the last couple of weeks but he kept hitting a wall. So we put our heads together and tried a bunch of different things. Finally, his version started to work. He sent me the full schematics and I’ve been slapping it together.”
“That sounds interesting,” said Harr as he studied the box. It didn’t appear to be anything special, but neither had the infamous GONE Drive that Geezer had developed to allow Reluctant to instantaneously jump from one point to another anyplace in the universe, as well as travel back and forth in time. “What kinds of things can it replicate?”
“Anything you want, I’d imagine.”
“Seriously?”
“Well, not living things. That would be beyond scope.”
Harr thought about how ludicrous it was to believe that you could have a system that could use some box to make pretty much anything you wanted out of nothing.
“You’re messing around with me, right?”
“I don’t think I am,” Geezer said after a moment. “Why are you so surprised?”
“Because it’s ridiculous, that’s why.”
“More than time travel,” Geezer countered, “and instantaneous travel, and cloaking, and countless other things that you don’t even know I’ve invented?
”
There was no arguing that. Geezer had a knack for creating impossible items. He would argue that this was due to tenacity and a complete disregard for the laws of physics. At one point, Harr would have called it luck, but with all of the insane things that the robot had developed over the years, luck no longer fit the bill.
“Fair enough,” Harr conceded. “So how does it work?”
“Haven’t the foggiest, chief,” Geezer replied matter-of-factly. “Some of this stuff is all on Goozer’s side. My contribution consisted of a Dreybank Solution that I tacked on to a Plagdoop Trankendamp system.”
“You’re making up words again, aren’t you?” said Harr.
“It’s my primary talent, honcho,” Geezer answered.
“Hard to argue that.”
“Well, I sent my data over to Goozer and he connected it to his Wegoclacker and Sadomizer, though it took a bit of effort. After a few tweaks, the system was online and functioning.”
“Sorry,” Harr said with a squint, “did you say ‘sodomizer?’”
“Sadomizer, chief.”
“Whew.”
“Anyway, he’s been reporting that he’s replicated a bunch of—”
The red brick rang, interrupting Geezer. Though they called it the “red brick,” it was actually the communications device employed by their new employer, the Overseers. It only rang when a new mission was about to be assigned. On the one hand, this was a good thing because Harr wanted to get his mind off of Rella, and a mission could be just the ticket. On the other hand, the Overseers were primarily a blood-thirsty bunch, and while Platoon F had only run a single mission for them so far, Harr expected things to get more dangerous with each new assignment. What the current ruling class in Overseerland stood for was nefarious at best. Their goal was to make sure that they stayed at the top of the food chain in the galaxy. This meant that they constantly searched for potential threats and destroyed them before they could grow. Platoon F’s direct boss, Frexle, seemed like a good enough guy, and there was also a new up-and-coming political party, who called themselves the HadItWithTheKillings group, who appeared to be more interested in galactic fair-play, but they were the outliers.
Platoon F: Quadology: Missions 6, 7, 8, and 9 (Platoon F eBook Bundle 2) Page 21