This was how Platoon F had gotten involved with the Overseers in the first place. Apparently, the general populace had grown tired of simply destroying planets that were tracking toward power. They wanted to find new ways to curtail progress. Platoon F had been conscripted as the tool used for this purpose, which was when Harr traveled to Kallian and met Rella.
“Uh oh,” said Geezer.
“Indeed,” agreed Harr. “Better answer it.”
Geezer put the phone on speaker. “Hey, big dog.”
“Geezer?” Frexle said.
“Yeah. I’m standing in here with honcho.”
“Good, good,” Frexle said in his chipper voice. “Captain Harr, I have a new mission for you. There is a planet in what you call the Cloud Sector, which I must tell you makes no sense unless you mean that as a metaphor for nebula. Anyway, the planet is called Mugoog and I’m afraid that they have recently discovered fire.”
“Fire?” said Harr with a grimace.
“Correct. They are currently living in caves, but the Lord Overseer’s prediction program has extrapolated that their discovery of fire is going to bring them to very high level of technology in roughly four thousand years and they will then be able to compete with us.”
“Doesn’t that give you a lot of time to deal with this?” asked Harr.
“By stopping them early in the game, we avoid mass destruction later,” Frexle replied tightly. “Hence the purpose of bringing you and your team aboard in the first place, if you recall.”
“Okay, so I’m dealing with cavemen, then?”
“I suppose you are, yes.”
Harr looked over at Geezer and rolled his eyes. Geezer shrugged in return.
“Swell. Okay, send over the data and we’ll take care of it.”
“Good. Frexle out.”
They both stood in silence for a few seconds.
“Taking out a planet because they’ll catch up to them in four thousand years?” Geezer said, finally. “Those Overseers seem pretty stupid, if you ask me.”
“Still here,” Frexle stated through the red brick. Frexle had been known for staying on the line after pretending to leave, clearly so he could listen in on any additional conversations.
“Honestly?” Geezer replied in frustration. “That’s not cool. You have to quit doing that.” He picked up the brick and slammed it back down on the other side.
“Frexle,” ventured Harr, just in case his boss was still hanging on the call, “I have a very important question.”
Silence was the only response.
“Uh, chief,” Geezer said, “I just hung up on him.”
“I was verifying that it actually disconnected him,” Harr stated in response. “Seems that it did.”
“Yeah, I learned my lesson the last time.”
“Apparently not,” Harr pointed out.
“Right.”
“Well, let’s get to this Eggnog planet he was talking about.”
“I think it’s Mugoog.”
“Does it really matter?” asked Harr incredulously.
“I’m sure it does to the people that live there,” Geezer argued.
“Considering that they likely speak in grunts, I doubt it.”
“Fair enough. Okay, I’ll set a course for Fantasy Planet so we can pick up the rest of the crew.”
“Don’t bother,” Harr said as he pushed himself off of the wall. “Let them enjoy their vacations. Just because my relationship with Dr. DeKella didn’t work out is no reason to interrupt their fun. Besides, with this ship, you and I should be able to take on a clan of cavemen without much fuss, especially with this new replicator technology you’ve created.”
“If you say so, big cat.”
SANDOO'S FANTASY
Captain Kip Sandoo stood on the bridge of The SSMC Reluctant. It wasn’t the real Reluctant, but rather a near replica that he was using for his fantasy.
He was gazing out the main screen at the oncoming Drool Beasts of Ukee as they screamed toward his ship.
The Drool Beasts had been the obvious choice since they were the bad guys in one of the first space marine books that Sandoo had read before he became aware that he was an android. He had been programmed with a love for science fiction, particularly those that focused primarily on battles. He had tried other types of science fiction as well, but most were silly or downright idiotic. The writing team of Yogsdon and Lung came to mind. Their books were puerile, juvenile drivel that made one wonder if they only wrote whilst taking some form of hallucinogenic. Their fantasy stuff made for a fine distraction, but their science fiction, to Sandoo’s way of thinking, was more fiction than science.
Sandoo’s crew was at the ready, preparing themselves for battle as any properly trained starship complement should. They were focused, professional, and awaiting the orders of their commanding officer.
“Helm,” Sandoo said, “how long before contact?”
“Less than ten standard minutes, sir,” Lieutenant Moon replied without his usual lisp.
Sandoo had edited that particular anomaly out of the lieutenant’s design. Actually, he had done heavy editing on everyone inhabiting the ship. This was his fantasy, after all.
“Ensign Jezden, is your station at the ready?” Sandoo knew that it was, but he couldn’t shake the need to ask.
“Always, sir,” Jezden replied strongly. “I am a solid soldier now, thanks to your tutelage, sir.”
“It’s the military way that’s to thank, Ensign,” corrected Sandoo.
“As you say, sir.”
Sandoo kept an eye on the screen as he walked from station to station.
“I’d like a report from the rest of you, please,” he said with his hands clasped behind his back. “Let’s start with you, Lieutenant Ridly.”
“Weapons are armed, sir,” she answered. Sandoo hadn’t adjusted Ridly at all, seeing that she was already a solid soldier, aside from her apparent need to have relations with Ensign Jezden from time-to-time. “I have also taken the liberty to calculate a complete firing matrix, sir.”
“Excellent. Ensign Curr?”
“Shields are up and under control, sir.”
“Ensign Middleton?”
“Scan protocols configured per your orders, sir.”
Sandoo moved to the Captain’s Chair and sat down. Everything and everyone was in order. This was how a ship should be run. Efficient and without the need for banter and contrasting personalities.
He pressed the button on his chair. “Mr. Geezer, how are we on overall power?”
“Tip-top shape, sir,” Geezer answered without his typical attitude, and Sandoo had even been able to alter the robot’s programming so that he would use “sir” when addressing his commanding officer. That had taken a fair bit of effort. “May I say again, sir, how grateful I am for you taking me under your wing to teach me the proper way to respond to an officer.”
“I teach only what the military has taught me, Mr. Geezer. Carry on.”
“Yes, sir.”
The Drool Beasts were only moments away from annihilation. They were just too stupid to realize it, and so they kept coming as if they were invincible. Sandoo had read enough about them to know their standard attack patterns. Plus, seeing that he had personally demanded that he be allowed to program their patterns, there was little doubt as to what they were planning.
“We are expecting a full-on frontal assault,” he announced, and then glanced over at Jezden to make sure that the ensign didn’t inadvertently giggle. He did not. “We will be launching missiles and lasers on my command, not a moment before.”
“Yes, sir,” chorused the crew.
It was in these moments that Captain Harr was typically second-guessing everyone. At least that’s the way Sandoo interpreted things. And Sandoo understood this because Harr’s style of command was different than Sandoo’s.
Harr went easy on the crew most of the time. He was only a manager when he had to be. His philosophy was to let people have the autonomy to do
their jobs without standing over their shoulders.
Sandoo disagreed with this style of management because it allowed for imperfection. In Sandoo’s estimation, the military was not intended to be anything less than flawless. Flaws meant casualties, death, and, most importantly, battles lost. Yet, to his credit, Captain Harr had not come out on the losing end of any mission they’d been given over their time together. Lives had been lost, even if they were android lives, but never once had they failed to complete a mission. It may have been reported as a failure in order to protect the greater good, but the crew and Captain Harr himself had never technically fallen short.
This had to be due to something that Sandoo never quite understood: luck. He knew the definition of the term, certainly, but the concept was foreign to him. Luck played no role in logic, and logic was the only manner of thinking that Sandoo deemed worthwhile.
“Two minutes to contact, sir.”
“Release the first line of missiles as a burst, but wait for them to reach one thousand meters before flipping full jets.”
“Yes, sir,” said Lieutenant Ridly. “I shall launch them at trajectories that are in accordance with my firing plan.”
“As you will,” Sandoo replied.
A line of missiles flooded from the ship, cutting their engines almost immediately so as to hide their signatures.
“Any change in the pattern of the Drool Beasts?”
“None, sir,” Ensign Curr answered.
This was to be expected. The Drool Beasts were not known for their tactical skills. They relied on sheer numbers and brute force to overwhelm their enemies.
“Missiles closing at twenty-five hundred meters,” said Ridly.
“Prepare to activate on my mark.”
“Two thousand meters.”
“Sir?” said the voice of another ensign who was stationed below.
“Not now, ensign,” Sandoo said through the comm.
“Fifteen hundred meters.”
“I’ve finished the laundry, sir,” the ensign said.
“Stow it, Ensign,” Sandoo replied irritably. “Now is not the time.”
“One thousand meters,” Ridly stated.
“Should I do anything else, sir?” the ensign replied, clearly ignoring Sandoo’s commands.
“Fire!” Sandoo yelled.
“Fired?” the ensign replied. “You can’t fire me, sir. You can court-martial me for valid cause, of course, but I can’t be fired.”
“No, not you. Get off the comm, Ensign!”
“Sorry, sir.”
“Targets destroyed, sir,” Ridly said as the flash of fire dissipated and the screen returned to the calming view of distant galaxies.
“Good work, Lieutenant,” replied Sandoo solemnly. He’d been so caught up in dealing with that stupid ensign that he missed the glory of battle, brief as it was.
Once again he wondered if it wouldn’t have been a better fantasy had he left the ensign out of the design.
PLANET MUGOOG
The SSMC Reluctant floated above Mugoog.
It was your standard planet with massive expanses of water, broken continents, and cloud cover setting the base ecosystem for thriving life. Harr had found that the majority of planets harboring advanced civilizations had the same feel to them. Mugoog was a three-moon planet, though it was really one larger moon with two smaller ones orbiting that moon, but technically there were three bodies orbiting, so Harr gave them (the moons) the benefit of the doubt.
“I found the guys that started the fire,” Geezer said.
“Already?”
“Yeah, why?”
Harr crossed his arms, gave the robot an incredulous look, and said, “You’re telling me that on a planet this big, you’ve found the guys we’re looking for in the first thirty seconds of being here?”
“Twenty-two seconds, chief, but who’s counting?”
“You, apparently.”
“There’s only one fire pit on the planet, hot dog. Not that hard to spot it.”
“That makes no sense, Geezer. There has to be more than one fire happening on this planet.”
“Well, yeah, boss, but there’s only one that has a little pit, some rocks, and a few logs.”
“Oh.”
Geezer had set the ship into stealth mode as they closed in on the area where fire had been discovered. Then he used the Reluctant’s cameras to zoom in on the tribe in question.
“Okay,” Harr said, defeated, “so you found the fire, but how do you know that only those two guys are responsible for it?”
“Because they’re the only two guys sitting by the fire.”
Geezer panned back slightly to show two scrawny, hairy men kicked back on what appeared to be lawn chairs. They weren’t anything like the chairs Harr had used on Segnal while on vacation, of course. These were made of wood and stones, and they didn’t really look all that comfortable, but they were reclining.
“I see,” said Harr.
“Looks like there are other people, chief, but they’re not sitting with the ones who discovered fire.”
“I wonder why not?” Harr mused. “Has to be warmer than sitting off to the side.”
“Yep.”
“Also, it looks like the two by the fire are wearing boots.” He leaned in closer. “They’re not fancy or anything, but those are definitely boots.”
“They’ve also got gloves,” noted Geezer.
“Hey, you’re right.” Harr stood back up and crossed his arms. “Are we sure we’re dealing with cavemen here?”
“I could scan them to find out, honcho.”
“You can do that?”
“No,” admitted Geezer, “but that sounds like a cool idea for another invention, doesn’t it?”
Harr frowned at the robot. “Anyway,” he said, “I’ve got to think about how to handle this one, since I don’t have any backup on this mission.”
“Thanks,” Geezer said dryly.
“Oh, don’t be like that,” said Harr. “You know what I mean.”
“Not really, no,” Geezer replied. “I can replicate anything you may need or want; I can take us to any point in the galaxy in less time than it takes for a single rotation of a crystal; I can bring us forward and backward in time; and I can beam you in or out of any situation before you think a thought, should it come to that.” He turned to Harr. “Can anyone else do any of that?”
“Right,” Harr said. “Sorry. I guess I’m still not thinking clearly. How would you suggest we play this?”
“We could easily beam those two up.”
“Good plan,” Harr scoffed. “I’m sure that wouldn’t freak them out at all.”
“I didn’t know we were worried about that, big cat.”
“I just want to get them to stop progressing technologically so the Overseers don’t destroy them.”
“Don’t you think that freaking out the two obviously-smarter-than-the-rest guys will accomplish that?”
Harr moved away from Geezer and thought things through. Scaring the crap out of those two cavemen may indeed be the simplest solution. But what if that weren’t enough to curtail them from trying again? Worse yet, what if they got it in their heads that these types of discoveries may be the key to bringing the “gods” down to visit them … assuming they considered Harr a god and all.
“You’re right,” Harr said, finally. “If we scare everyone in that tribe, those two will be kept in line.”
“How would we do that?”
“Land the ship,” Harr replied with tilt of his head.
“You want to land the Reluctant at their camp?”
“Exactly,” Harr answered. “Once in place, we’ll uncloak and lower the ramp. Then I’ll walk out there and speak to them.”
Geezer glanced back at the screen. “Don’t you think they’ll throw spears at you?”
“I’ve no doubt that they will,” said Harr, “but fortunately my Chief Engineer has mentioned how amazingly adept he is at beaming things in and out in an instan
t.”
“You mean beaming you, right?”
“I mean you’ll track every spear. If any are thrown at me or the ship, you’ll beam it away somewhere.”
“Where?”
“I’m sure you can figure that out on your own, Geezer.”
“I suppose I could transport them to a random part of the world.”
“Fine with me.”
Geezer took to studying the various regions on the planet. He didn’t zoom into anything, but rather dragged his metallic finger across the screen to let the map spin and then dimmed his eyes. A few seconds later he poked at the screen and the map stopped dead.
“Right there,” he stated, his eyes coming back to life.
“Where is that?” asked Harr.
“Latitude 21.694025, longitude -71.787928.”
Harr looked at Geezer funnily. “Thanks. I mean is it just some random spot or did you choose it for a particular reason?”
“You saw me spin the globe, close my eyes, and randomly poke my finger at the screen, right?”
“Right,” Harr answered. “Okay, I’m going to go and put on my dress uniform to try and instill them with a sense of awe.”
“Yeah,” said Geezer mockingly, “you in a green outfit will certainly trigger their awe, not a massive ship uncloaking in front them.” Harr grunted. “Besides,” Geezer continued, “wouldn’t it be smarter to wear one of those white gowns with the big, pointy hat?”
“Why would I want to do that?”
“Seemed to work for Parfait back on that Earth planet.”
It certainly had, but Harr was not Parfait. Frankly, nobody was Parfait, except, of course, for Parfait himself. Besides, Parfait could manage to look like one of Earth’s medieval inquisitors, Harr would only look like a superhero with a tall, white pointy hat.
“I’ll stick with my uniform.”
“Chief,” Geezer said before Harr stepped out of the room, “are you sure you want to do this?”
“Not even slightly.”
Platoon F: Quadology: Missions 6, 7, 8, and 9 (Platoon F eBook Bundle 2) Page 22