LANDING THE SHIP
Geezer lowered the ship into Mugoog’s atmosphere as Harr got into his full military uniform.
The SSMC outfits had a few options to choose from, but now that the Overseers had taken things over, Frexle had set green as the official color. Harr had expected Frexle to choose red, seeing that it was far more aggressive, but Frexle had explained that the Overseers preferred to appear relaxed as they planned your demise. Turned out for the best anyway seeing that every active Platoon F crew member who had died in the line of duty had been wearing a red shirt. He stood at the mirror and adjusted his medals until they sat just right. A group of cavemen probably wouldn’t care one way or the other, but it was important to him.
He exited his quarters and found his way back to engineering.
“You clean up nice, big cat,” said Geezer.
“Thanks,” Harr answered, never sure if Geezer was being sarcastic or not. “Personally, I’d prefer the blue or white getup, but rules are rules.”
“It’s not like Frexle is around.”
“True. I guess it’s the soldier in me that can’t help but to follow orders.”
“When they make sense,” Geezer stated.
“Obviously.” Harr glanced over at the screen and noted that they were almost at the target area. “Can they hear us coming in?”
“No, honcho. I have the sound squashers engaged.”
“I didn’t even know that we had those on the Reluctant. I mean, I know you put them on the shuttle, but wasn’t aware you had them on the entire ship.”
“Lots of things you don’t know, chief,” Geezer replied. “Better that way.”
“I can’t see how,” Harr said. Then, he shrugged and said, “Actually, I’ve been through a number of your dissertations on how you’ve invented things. Maybe it is better that I’m kept in the dark.”
“Engineering-101, prime,” Geezer said. “Speak in big words and use a bunch of acronyms until the powers-that-be get that glazed-over look, and then wait for them to give up and say, ‘How long will it take?’ Works every time.”
“Probably not something you should tell me,” Harr noted.
“Damn.”
Harr shook his head. Fact was that he couldn’t keep up with the majority of items that Geezer had running on the Reluctant. Fortunately, Commander Sandoo could, and the good commander had a knack for knowing what was important and what wasn’t … when it came to ship’s components anyway.
Another glance at the view screen told Harr that the ground was rapidly approaching.
“Slow us down and set the angle so that the ramp opens directly towards those two at the campfire,” Harr commanded. “I’m heading down to the bays.”
“You got it, honcho.”
“And don’t forget about beaming away weapons.”
“I honestly think you need one of those dissertations on robotics, chief. I can’t forget things, unless they’re erased, of course.”
Harr shuffled down to the bay doors, and then checked himself over once more as the compression of the ship told him that they were touching down. From his perspective, his presence would be imposing to a caveman. Geezer, of course, was correct that the ship was probably the real head-turner here, but the SSMC outfit did look sporty even without the ship.
The stabilization light turned green. It was show time.
He flipped the ramp activation switch and felt the rush of fresh air flow into the bay. It smelled clean and crisp, but it was also somewhat biting. He hadn’t thought to check the temperature. With a tap on his left cuff link, the suit began to adjust itself to keep him warm.
A group of people wearing animal skins stood near the edge of the trees. They were peering out at him with looks of terror. Perfect. The two who were at the fire, though, hadn’t moved. They looked more interested than concerned. Odd.
“Going out,” Harr said to Geezer, hoping his comm was registering. “Assuming you can hear me?”
“Yep,” Geezer replied. “Got the transporter at the ready.”
“Good.”
Harr walked powerfully down the ramp, working to keep his face stern and soldierly. His role was to strike fear into these people. It was his primary chance at getting them to stop developing technologically as a culture. That thought irritated Harr, but better that they slow down their tech than end up on the extinction list.
“Ung!” said a large man who had a sunken forehead, overlarge brow, and enormous teeth. He was also carrying a spear and his lean frame spoke of his ability to throw it with speed and deadly accuracy. The way the others were looking at him, Harr assumed the man was their chief. “Dak ung oog!”
“Are you the leader?” Harr asked firmly.
There was a group gasp.
The leader glanced at his flock and then slowly turned back to Harr with the look of a man who’d recognized that his moment of glory was upon him. Harr had seen this look before. It almost never turned out well.
“Ung, tak!” the caveman said as he took two steps forward and launched the spear directly at Harr’s chest.
The speed at which the spear zipped through the air was stunning. There was no chance for Harr to move out of its path. Either Geezer did his job or Harr was a goner.
An instant later, the spear disappeared into thin air, causing the group to gasp even louder than before.
“Ung, shit!” The leader’s eyes were gaping as he turned towards his flock. “Ung, run!”
§ § §
On the other side of Mugoog, there was a debate going on.
Two cavemen, Herb and Roger, were arguing over who was the most logical choice to lead the flock. Billy, their previous leader, had been killed by a woolly mammoth during their last hunting raid. Roger didn’t actually want to be in charge of the group, he merely wanted them to quit being so stupid in how they ran things.
The flock consisted of 50 people. Technically, it was 48, but only Roger could affirm that number since nobody else could count.
As Herb and Roger discussed things, the crowd would grunt and say “oog” and “ung” to show their support or opposition. While an outsider would have only heard the conglomeration of grunts, “oogs,” and “ungs” as being nothing more than grunts, “oogs” and “ungs,” those who lived here heard them as grunts, “yays” and “boos.”
Herb was tall, lean, and dirty; Roger was short, chubby, and a little less dirty.
Herb carried his spear as he walked back and forth in front of Roger, who was sitting at a table that had a few of Roger’s books on them. These books were really a single block of stone with between 7 and 10 words on each side. Still, for a caveman, that was something.
“I strong and fast,” Herb said, pounding his chest. “I know how to throw spear. Roger not know how to throw spear.”
Oog, oog, oog!
“Granted,” Roger said after the ooging quieted, “I don’t have the spear-throwing prowess that my friend Herb here does.”
“I not your friend.”
“Just a figure of speech, Herb,” Roger said with a nod before looking back over the crowd. “Anyway, while I’m not much for throwing spears, who is it that figured out a way to capture cows instead of hunting them?” The people looked at their feet. “And while we’re on the subject of cows, why do you all still feel the need to sneak up on them? You do realize that they’re not going to run from you, right?”
Herb spun towards the flock. “Don’t listen to his smart talk. He try and trick!”
“No, seriously,” Roger said, “whether I end up as leader or not, do you all really think it’s wise to go out and hunt mammoths and tigers when you can simply pick a cow out of the bunch?” He was not surprised at their lack of response. “And another thing I wanted to bring up is that having a bunch of spears lying around is dangerous, and not just to the animals.”
“What you saying?” Herb asked.
“Only that we’ve had ten spear-related killings in our tribe in the last three months. We should have better control
s in place to avoid this type of thing.”
“Like what?”
“Sanity checks for one,” noted Roger. “Right now the only rule in place for owning a spear is … well, there are none, actually. Anyone can own a spear.”
“So?”
“So what if the person who owns a spear is nuts?”
“You mean like peanuts?” Herb said with a confused look. Roger wanted to groan, but he couldn’t help but see that everyone else in the crowd was also baffled. “You act smart, Roger, but everyone knows that people can’t be a peanut.”
Roger decided to try a different angle. “Do you remember Larry?”
“The guy who went pee on people when they were sleeping?” asked Herb.
“That’s the guy,” affirmed Roger. “Do you think it was safe for him to own a spear?”
“Him killed twenty mammoth by himself in his life.”
“I’ll grant you that,” Roger said with a nod, “but he also killed seven of our tribesmen.”
“So?”
“So we can’t afford to kill off our tribesmen! We have strength in numbers, Herb. It’s important that we keep our tribe at the proper size in order for us to flourish.”
“We get too big and we starve.”
“Not since I brought in the concept of raising cows,” Roger pointed out. “With the number of cattle in our herd, we could easily support double our current population.”
Herb squinted. “I don’t understand.”
“It’s simple,” Roger said, sighing. “We shouldn’t simply let anyone and everyone have a spear.”
Urg?
“Do you hear him?” Herb said, taking this moment to solidify his position as leader. “Him want us to have no spears! He not good. Him evil!”
Ung, ung, ung!
“Wait a second,” Roger said, standing up. “I’m not saying you shouldn’t have spears. I’m merely saying that spears kill people and should therefore be controlled more thoughtfully.”
“Spears no kill people,” said Herb. “People kill people. And woolly mammoth kill people, and sabertooth tiger kill people, and—”
“Right, right, we get it,” Roger said.
“Maybe I stick you with spear,” Herb grunted.
“No need to get all frazzled,” said Roger and then he glanced at the crowd. “This is what I’m talking about. If one of us gets mad at another, our default reaction is to spear them. Take the spear out of the equation and we have to use our minds to resolve conflict.” He then motioned towards the table. “If you read my books, you’ll be enlightened and then you’ll want to help your fellow man instead of constantly looking for excuses to kill him.”
“Me think you want take all spears so you have power over us,” Herb stated. Then he pointed accusingly at Roger. “You try take away my right to have spear.”
“For the love of the Great Sky Face, Herb, I do not want to take away your spears!”
“Good,” Herb replied sternly. “Only way to take my spear is to pry from my cold, dead hand.”
“Honestly, I don’t want that. We need the spears to defend ourselves from other tribes and such. I’m merely interested in removing the threat of spears in the community.” He paused and thought for a moment. “Actually, who is to say that the gods want you to have spears anyway?”
Urg?
“You don’t know what gods want,” Herb countered. “If gods no want spears, gods would show that.”
“How do you mean, Herb?”
“A sign, dummy,” Herb answered with a roll of his eyes. “Who smart now?”
Roger ignored that. “So you’re saying that if the gods didn’t want us to have spears that they would send some type of sign to demonstrate that?”
“Yep.”
Oog.
“What kind of sign do you think they would send?”
“Me think it would be something bad,” Herb answered with a shrug.
“For everyone?”
“No, just for person who want to keep spears, dummy.”
Suddenly, one of the children in the crowd pointed up and said, “Eek.”
Everyone glanced up in the direction that the child was pointing. Coming from the sky appeared to be a spear. It was moving faster than lightning and it was headed directly at Herb.
“Shit,” said Herb a split-second before the spear stabbed through his chest with such force that it flung him onto his back and pinned him to the ground.
Roger peered over the table and took in the frightful scene of his deceased foe.
An instant later, the crowd all dropped their spears and rushed up to the table to pick up one of Roger’s books.
* * *
Seeing that Geezer had proved his ability to instantly transport any projectiles that the cavemen threw, Harr confidently walked towards the fire. He was keenly aware that the rest of the tribe were looking on from the trees, having not run off too far from the main camp, so he could only hope that Geezer stayed at the ready.
The two cavemen at the fire seemed different than the rest. Obviously they had skills that the others didn’t—one look at the fire could demonstrate that fact, but they also had a different cranial structure. Their brows weren’t nearly as pronounced and their teeth, though still slightly bucked, were smaller as well. They still had all of the facial hair and such, but these two were fatter than the rest. They weren’t obese or anything, but their muscles were well-hidden.
“Unk oog,” said the one with the blondish hair.
“Garg lagga oog,” the dark-haired one said next.
Harr looked down at his universal translator and saw that he’d forgotten to activate it. He shook his head at himself.
“Sorry,” he said, “what was that again?”
“Unk oog.”
“Garg lagga oog.”
“Damn,” Harr said. “Geezer, the translator doesn’t seem to be working.” Suddenly, the cavemen started laughing hysterically. “Wait a second, maybe it is.”
“Haha,” the blond said as he slapped his knee. “He fell for it!”
“Classic,” the brunette agreed while wiping the tears from his eyes.
“What’s going on?”
“We were only messing with you, pal,” the blond one said as he slowly caught his breath. “You some kind of god or something?”
“God? No, I’m not a god. I’m just a person from another planet.”
“Told you there were people on those other dots in the sky, Vlak,” the blond one said to the brunette. “Hand ‘em over.” The other guy produced two rocks and held them out. “Name’s Grog,” the blond said. “This is Vlak. Nice outfit you got on there, pal.”
“I like the green,” Vlak said.
“Sorry,” Harr said, feeling more than a little shocked, “but are you telling me that my landing in a spaceship, telling you I’m from another planet, and even making that spear that was thrown at me vanish isn’t freaking you out in the least?
“Nah,” Grog said, taking out a stick and poking at the fire. “We’re advanced thinkers. Philosophers, if you will. We’ve been studying the sky for years and postulating what was really out there. I figured there were spaceships and shit.”
“We figured there were spaceships and shit,” Vlak corrected.
Harr was blown away by this revelation. Could it be that these guys weren’t really from the planet Mugoog? He glanced back at the people along the tree line and noticed far too many similarities for that to be the case.
“I honestly don’t know what to say,” said Harr. “I’m impressed with your obvious intellect.”
“Thanks, pal,” said Vlak. “It’s just us two, though. The rest of the tribe are a bunch of idiots. Can’t even figure out how to light a fire.”
“Exactly,” stated Grog. “We demonstrated how warm we are and how great the fire is, but they just yell Rog Ugag at it.”
“Rog Ugag?”
“Local god,” Grog replied. “You know, those guys are even afraid of the wheel? Unbelievable.�
�
“Wait, you have a wheel?” asked Harr.
“Sure,” answered Grog as if Harr were an idiot. “I wasn’t going to carry rocks around on my back, so I created a cart and put a couple of wheels on it.”
“Yeah, but the others think that the wheel is magic and that the gods are going to come and take it,” said Vlak. Then he squinted at Harr and said, “Hey, wait, you’re really not a god, right?”
“No, I’m not a god!”
“Haha,” Vlak said. “Got him again.”
“Priceless,” Grog said as the two cavemen did a fist-bump. “You should have seen your face, uh … actually, didn’t get your name.”
“Harr. Don Harr.”
“Well, Harr Don Harr, we …”
“No, sorry, call me Harr or Don.”
“Okay, Harr or Don.”
“Harr will do,” Harr said tightly.
“Make up your mind, will ya, pal?”
Harr ignored that. “So you two are smart and everyone else is not?”
“Pretty much, yep,” said Grog. “There is some guy named Roger who lives on the other side of the world who we’ve been texting with. He’s got some solid ideas.”
“You have electronics?” Harr asked in shock.
“I don’t think so, but I don’t know what electronics are.”
“Then how are you texting with this Roger fellow?”
“Basically, we use stone tablets and pterodactyls,” explained Grog. “Lost a lot of our philosophers training those damn things.”
“Oh, I see.” Harr looked around again. “Everyone else is a bit slow, though, right?”
“They can’t even count to ten,” Vlak stated with a smirk. “Hell, I doubt that they even understand the concept of ten.”
“Agreed,” said Grog. “All they know how to do is hunt and make babies.”
“Yeah,” agreed Vlak. “We’re thinkers. We’re not so good at hunting.”
“Or making babies.”
“Tough to learn when none of the women will come near us.”
“Hmmm,” said Harr. “Maybe I should explain why I’m here.” He motioned back at the Reluctant. “You see this ship and all, right?”
“Duh,” answered Grog.
Platoon F: Quadology: Missions 6, 7, 8, and 9 (Platoon F eBook Bundle 2) Page 23