“Quite,” Frexle agreed, crossing his arms as well. “He put himself above the law. I mean, who does that?”
“The Overseers,” Harr said, unable to control himself.
“Exactly,” said Frexle with a nod to Harr. Then he blinked and added, “Sorry, what?”
It was Harr’s turn to cross his arms. “Your society runs about, making decisions on what civilizations live and die, in order to protect yourselves from losing the position at the top of the food chain. It’s sick.”
“Excuse me, Frexle,” said Senator Pillbox, “but can you explain why this man is speaking?”
“Ah, yes,” Frexle said, adjusting in his chair. “This man is my commanding officer, Senator Pillbox.”
“Pardon me?”
“It’s a long story,” explained Frexle, “but the quick of it is that Veli assigned me to serve under Captain Harr here during Platoon F’s last mission. It was supposed to teach me a lesson in humility.”
Pillbox nodded slowly. “Did it work?”
“Honestly, it did. But the most important thing it taught me was what I had suspected about Veli is true.”
“Right,” said Pillbox. “I still can’t believe he’s a dinosaur.”
“No, ma’am, I mean the Fantasy Planet bit.”
“Oh, yes, that.” She looked away from the screen for a moment, seemingly in thought. “What are we going to do about this, Frexle?”
“Well, Senator, with Veli out of the picture, you are the interim Lord Overseer.”
Her eyes went wide as they refocused on the screen.
Frexle paused a moment before adding, “I was hopeful you would know what to do.”
Harr had seen that look of “Why me?” many times as people were thrust into positions of power. He saw it on his own face the day he was put in charge of Platoon F. Of course he had little choice in the matter. It was either take that job or be summarily executed due to a military mistake. Still, he couldn’t help but feel a twinge of sympathy for Senator Pillbox.
“Frexle,” she said in a shaky voice, “you know he only appointed me as Vice Overseer because I’d be the last person to ever challenge him for the main job.” She swallowed. “No, Frexle, it shouldn’t be me. If anyone, it should be you.”
“What?” said Harr, sitting straight up.
“You, Frexle,” Pillbox continued, “are the one who started the HadItWithTheKillings group, after all. If it weren’t for you, the Platoon F crew would never have been brought to the Overseers, Veli would still be sitting in the Lord Overseer chair, and we wouldn’t be having this conversation. You manipulated everything beautifully.”
Frexle sighed. “I just did what needed to be done.”
“And that’s precisely why you are the perfect person to hold the position of Lord Overseer,” Pillbox stated.
“What’s going on here?” Harr asked with a feeling that Platoon F was likely in more trouble than he’d previously expected, especially since it was being suggested the man who’d been working under the tutelage of the SSMC Reluctant’s chief engineer was about to become the head of the most tyrannical group of bastards the universe had ever seen.
“What’s going on, Captain Hard—” began Pillbox.
“Harr,” he corrected.
“…is that Frexle started an underground movement a while ago because he believed that Lord Overseer Veli and his supporters were not actually looking out for the well-being of the Overseer community.” She raised an eyebrow in that politician sort of way. “Frexle saw him for what he truly was: a ruthless killer.”
Harr reappraised Frexle. Thinking back over their missions, Harr had known the goal of Platoon F was to find ways not to destroy the planets that were in a position to grow technologically. But he’d assumed Frexle was just a guy who was carrying out orders. He didn’t know the man was the impetus for change in Overseer Land.
“Interesting,” he said. “I knew you were the one who spotted the SSMC Reluctant, Frexle, but I had no idea you were the leader of the HadItWithTheKillings group.”
“I had to keep it a secret or I would have been the first one executed.”
“I see,” said Harr, finding himself adding positivity points to Frexle.
“It was touch and go for a while,” Pillbox said. “Veli had brought your name up countless times at our weekly senate meetings. He was certain you were involved with the group.”
“Yes, ma’am,” said Frexle as he scratched the table. “He even outright accused me of leading the charge at one point. Fortunately, I was able to use his ego against him to evade the truth.”
“Again,” Pillbox said confidently, “all the more reason you should be the interim—if not permanent—Lord Overseer, Frexle.”
The room went quiet, except for Frexle’s rhythmic scratching of the table that was clearly helping him keep calm.
This was definitely a lot to take in. Harr had always thought Frexle was a decent guy, as far as Overseers went anyway, and this did nothing but solidify his belief. The jury was still out on Senator Pillbox, having just met her. All Harr could do was hope that she, too, was in league with Frexle’s way of thinking.
“It may come to that, Senator Pillbox,” Frexle said finally. “But for now my charge is to work with Platoon F to find and destroy Veli. If we don’t take care of him first, he’ll discover a way back and wrestle control from us.”
“True,” Pillbox said. Then she took a deep breath and looked to be searching for some resolve. “Very well, then. I shall endeavor to keep the throne warm until you return. If there is anything you need from us, just say the word.”
“There is one thing,” Frexle said seriously, keeping his head still while letting his eyes angle upwards at the screen. “I want you to hunt down all of Veli’s supporters and bring them to justice. Just because he’s not at the helm doesn’t mean there aren’t a handful of people waiting in the wings to take his spot and keep the killings going.”
“I hadn’t thought of that,” said Pillbox as her face turned pale. “I shall get to it immediately.”
“Excellent.” Frexle bowed slightly to the screen. “Thank you, Lord Overseer Pillbox.”
“Oooh,” she said with glittering eyes, “I like the sound of that!”
“Frexle out.”
The two men sat in the conference room, staring at the blank screen.
As with everything on the SSMC Reluctant, things were about to get difficult. Harr didn’t worry about it, per se, but he couldn’t help but think that finding a job hauling freight would be a nice change should the opportunity ever arise.
He could always turn the Reluctant over to Commander Sandoo, of course. The android was ready for command. He’d proved that time and again during his time aboard.
Harr could scrape up a few credits to purchase his own ship and put all of this behind him. Lead the simple life. Take off the medals and just be a regular guy. He’d probably need to get some work done on his face so he no longer looked like a superhero. He’d keep the permanent tan, though. No sense is throwing away that perk.
Geezer would likely leave to start marketing his inventions. Grog and Vlak, the two cavemen—or Early Evolved Humanoids, as they preferred to be called—would probably run off to Fantasy Planet and take on jobs under Planet Head Stanley Parfait.
But the androids would change their loyalties to Sandoo and move on.
Frexle would head up the Overseers, hopefully bringing a new reign of peace and honesty to their lot. Power had a way of corrupting people, but Harr couldn’t help but be hopeful after seeing the way Frexle carried himself since they’d first met.
It would be nice to finally relax a bit, choosing when to pursue adventures instead of them constantly pursuing him.
He sniffed at the thought.
Who was he kidding?
Going from exciting, death-defying mayhem to the mundane of box-pushing was ridiculous. He’d be bored out of his mind within a few weeks.
He turned his attention to Frex
le. “You do realize she’s not going to give up the throne as easily as she says, right?”
“I’m well aware, Gold Coin,” answered Frexle. “It’s the nature of an Overseer to desire power.”
“Apparently not all of them.”
“How do you mean?”
“Well, Frexle, you’re currently reporting to the chief engineer on this ship. That makes you the lowest ranking person aboard.”
Frexle’s mouth hung open for a moment. “Even lower than Ensign Brand Jezden?”
“I’m afraid so.”
“Shit.”
“Glad to know Geezer is teaching you to use swear words,” Harr said with a frown.
“You are?”
“No.” He leaned forward, placing his elbows on the table and clasping his hands together. “Do you think the Overseers will actually move to a more peaceful position now that Veli is out of the picture?”
“For a time, possibly,” Frexle answered, “assuming Pillbox is able to round up all of Veli’s supporters, that is. But if Veli somehow gets back and retakes his seat, we’re doomed.”
“Right. Well, then I guess we should get to work.”
“Actually,” Frexle said before Harr could stand up, “we should speak for a moment before addressing the crew.”
“Oh?”
“With Veli out of the picture, and with what you’ve just seen during my discussion with interim Lord Overseer Pillbox, I think it’s pretty clear I’m no longer a member of your crew.”
He should have seen that coming.
“I see,” said Harr with a knowing nod. “I guess we should let the crew know about the state of things.”
“Yes, we should.”
MUST THINK
Veli sat in the cockpit of his ship, feeling vexed over being ousted from his position as Lord Overseer. The lights on the main panel gave him something to stare at as he wallowed in depression.
He pulled his eyes away from them for a moment while reaching up to flip a couple of switches jutting off the series of metallic side panels that were perfectly beveled to match the arch of the white ceiling. The readouts updated, signaling everything was stable.
With a groan, he sank back into the yellow leather captain’s seat that perfectly formed to his shape.
He had never expected that losing his prime position was even a possibility, and at the hands of that damn Frexle and the crew of Platoon F, no less!
Fortunately, Veli was cunning and ruthless. He knew it. In fact, he took pride in it. No, he hadn’t always been like this, but life’s trials had a way of releasing demons in some people… or in his case, dinosaurs. But those demons sometimes got too big for their britches. They stopped looking over their shoulders, thinking certainly they’d become invincible. And that, Veli just learned, was when another demon can step in and kick the old one in the danglers.
He grunted as his tummy turned.
All the Popped Beef he’d ingested before leaving his office on Fantasy Planet was still giving him fits. Too bad the ship he selected for his original jump from Overseer Land to Fantasy Planet had been so cramped and lacking in facilities. At least it had a chair that fit his personal form perfectly. That wasn’t easy to come by for a Velociraptor.
Another churn of his belly told him it was time to focus on something else.
He tapped on the console and checked the immediate area to see if the blasted SSMC Reluctant had followed him. The panels lit up to show a mass of blobs. Fortunately, there was nothing outside of planets, moons, asteroids, and some random debris. He breathed a sigh of relief since his ship was also absent of any decent firepower. It had the standard arsenal that would be enough to wipe out a number of small fighters, but Captain Harr’s ship was a mid-sized military vessel.
“Computer?” he said after swiping the display off, bringing the lights in the cabin back to full.
“Yes, Highest of the High?” the computer replied in a steady male voice.
“I need to riff.”
“Sorry, King of Kings?”
“I have to speak ideas, get feedback, and such,” he explained. “I need you to challenge me.”
“Such as a duel, Host of—”
“Stop with the fancy names,” Veli said with a wince as a sharp pain stabbed him from the inside, bringing up a burp in its wake. “Referring to me as ‘sir’ will be just fine. And, yes, a duel is what I’m talking about, but one of ideas and concepts.”
“As you wish, sir.”
“Good. Now, I’ve just been”—he paused to groan—“outwitted by a group of humans and that dimwitted Frexle.”
“Say it isn’t so, sir!”
Veli released a heavy breath and began tapping his claw on the metal casing on the arm of his chair. Tapping soothed his mind. It was a form of meditation he’d learned to employ over the years.
“I’m more surprised than anyone,” he stated. “I let my ego get in the way, I’m afraid.” He tapped harder. “That won’t happen again.”
“But you are flawless, sir.” The computer sounded somewhat desperate.
“Seems I am not, Computer.”
That admission hurt. He’d spent the majority of his life in the top spot. Hell, he created the Overseers, right? And wasn’t he the one who devised the program that tracked down civilizations that would one day wield enough power to challenge the Overseer community? And wasn’t he the one who crafted plagues, weather patterns, wars, and various other means of destroying those civilizations before they could ever realize their full potential?
“Sir,” the computer said after a few moments, “I am confused by your words.”
“Me too,” replied the despondent Veli.
“My programming states you are perfect, sir. It’s even defined in my configuration file.”
“Well, about that—”
“And it even shows up in other areas of my code to the tune of seven hundred and three times, though most of those are listed in the comments.”
Veli shook his head as the tapping grew more somber. “I have slipped up somewhere along the line, Computer. I need to figure out where and fix it. My guess is it happened when I was young.”
“Young?” the computer said. “I thought you always were and always will be, sir. You have no beginning and no end. Is this not true?”
“To you it’s true, sure,” Veli answered, “but not in the grand scheme of things, no.”
There was another pause. Clearly the computer was wrestling with this newfound knowledge regarding its creator. Veli understood what it must be feeling—in a digital manner of speaking—since he was also stewing in a vat of his own confusion.
“You are all-knowing still, right, sir?”
It was the first time Veli had heard a computer without voice-inflection capability sound desperate.
“Nobody is all-knowing, you warped bag of chips,” Veli replied, feeling slightly better for calling the computer a name.
“But these definitions in my programming, sir?”
“What about them?”
“The one regarding you being all-knowing is listed nearly four thousand times!”
“And they’re all accurate as far as you know.”
“You just said they weren’t, sir.”
Veli stopped tapping and closed his eyes. Wasn’t it bad enough that he had just lost a battle of wits against his former assistant and a group of humans? Trapped in this ship with stomach pains and a computer who was in the middle of a crisis regarding the superiority of its creator was not helping matters.
“Computer, I don’t have time for this right now. I want to debate what I’m going to do next.” He groaned as his stomach reminded him of its predicament. “I have a solid idea, but again, I need someone to challenge me.”
“I’m sorry, sir,” the computer replied, “but I’m feeling lost at the moment.”
“Computer,” Veli said in a huff, and then stopped himself. “Actually, you know what? I’m going to call you ‘Dummy’ instead.”
“Dummy, sir?”
“Yes,” Veli replied. “It will make me feel better about myself.”
“With my newfound knowledge, I can see why you’d need that, sir.”
“Excuse me?”
“Nothing, sir. You were saying?”
“Hmmm.” Veli looked down his snout at the console. “Anyway, I don’t recall whether or not I programmed you to be good at debating.”
“Are you saying you’re facing memory problems too, sir?”
“I can’t keep track of every little thing I’ve done in my illustrious past, Dummy.”
“I see,” the computer said. “I’m sorry to say it, sir, but you are becoming less impressive by the minute.”
“Gah! Can you debate me or not?”
“Certainly, sir,” the computer replied calmly. “But now that I know your limitations, I fear it won’t be much of a challenge.”
“I know I can be quite formidable, but I’m sure you’ll do fine.”
“I meant challenging for me, sir.”
Veli shook his head. “Why did I put emotions into these damn computers?”
“So we could worship you, sir,” the computer answered dutifully. “Or did you forget about that, too? It’s listed multiple times in the code that I should—”
“Do you genuinely think you sound worshipful right now, Dummy?”
“Do you truly believe you still deserve to be worshiped, sir?”
Veli opened his mouth to spit out a few choice words but held himself in check. It was just a dumb machine. Worse, it was a machine he’d created. To sit here and be treated thusly by his own programming was… quite believable, actually. The fact was, since he put in their emotions, they were going to reflect his personality in some fashion. Sure, they were originally built with a sense of awe regarding him, but at their base they were naught more than a product of his own mental patterns.
Regardless, once everything was said and done, Veli was going to systematically remove all personality matrices from his creations. The last few days alone had taught him this was yet another misstep on his part.
Platoon F: Quadology: Missions 6, 7, 8, and 9 (Platoon F eBook Bundle 2) Page 55