Platoon F: Quadology: Missions 6, 7, 8, and 9 (Platoon F eBook Bundle 2)

by John P. Logsdon

  Veli growled and kicked at the grass, ripping up large chunks of it. By the time he’d finished, the side of the ship was covered in dirt.

  “Fine,” he said while catching his breath, “but I’m leaving at first light with or without you.”

  Young Veli sniffed. “You’ll wait.”

  “Don’t count on it.”

  “You wouldn’t have come all the way here to retrieve me otherwise.”

  “Well…” Veli said in a weak voice.

  “Remember who you’re speaking to and you’ll understand that I simply must do this.” Young Veli started walking back towards town, but called back, saying, “Besides, if any of that crap happens again, I’m sure you’ll be able to swoop in with your ship and get me out of there.”

  Veli just stood there, watching his younger self go.

  “I always was pigheaded.”

  RECON

  The bridge of the Tiny Ship looked identical to the bridge of the Reluctant, except that it shone like a well-polished diamond and the buttons on the Captain’s Chair all functioned as intended.

  The crew was also different, of course, being that there were no androids. They consisted of people from the world of Tinyfolk, which was a world that serendipitously, though unwittingly, received the gift of the Tiny Ship from the crew of the Reluctant. To that end, Liverbing felt it his duty to help out Captain Harr and his crew at every turn.

  Liverbing had taken on the task of running a scouting mission down to where Veli’s ship was located. It would be a simple enough mission. Jump in, scan the area, and then hop back out.

  “Keep us cloaked and in the treetops, Mr. Breem.”

  “Noted,” replied the helm.

  Breem was a middle-aged man who was stocky, had blond hair that was padded with gel, and was dressed in a manner similar to Liverbing. He had been well-to-do before the community left home after boarding the Tiny Ship, but Liverbing found the man seemed happier in his new position. This was evidenced by the fact that Breem was ever planted in his chair. In fact, Liverbing couldn’t remember a time when Breem wasn’t there.

  “Have we anything on scan?”

  “The ship is within range, sir,” answered Breem. “It just uncloaked.”

  “On visual,” commanded Liverbing. “Open an encrypted, hidden channel to the Reluctant, too, if you would.”

  “Hidden?”

  “Isn’t that possible?”

  “No.”

  “Well, can you do something to mask the signal, Mr. Breem?”

  “Uhhh…”

  And that’s when Ms. Demoise called over her shoulder, saying, “Just make it sound like a bunch of chittering insects. That’ll blend right in with the incessant sound of all those little bastards in this world.”

  Mr. Breem nodded. “Channel open, sir.”

  “Captain Harr?”

  “Harr here.”

  “We see Veli’s ship. It is sitting in a mass of brush.”

  “Can you destroy it?”

  “Checking,” Liverbing said and then glanced over at Ms. Demoise.

  She was twisting her red hair in her fingers while chewing gum and looking at pornography. The images on her screen were disturbing, though she didn’t seem to mind. It was one thing to look at such images in the comfort of your own quarters, but to do so openly on the bridge was appalling.

  They hadn’t had adult films on their home planet. Actually, they didn’t have films at all, unless you included the cards some of the artists drew on and then flipped through in rapid succession.

  While Liverbing disapproved of her openness when it came to watching and participating in sexual deviance, there was little he could do to stop her. The problem was that Demoise had turned out to be a dynamo with technology. She was the first to take to the computer systems. She was a quick study. Within days, she understood the ins and outs of searching the Galacticnet, sending emails, and using Alienbook. She was also the one who found Goozer in engineering and got his battery charged up and got him running.

  She’d been relatively quiet back then and highly reserved, which Liverbing rather missed.

  One day though, she’d been getting increasingly annoyed with Liverbing and his persistent pushing. She’d referred to him as being an “anal-retentive blowhard.” Liverbing did not take well being spoken to in such a manner, and thus said it was likely Ms. Demoise didn’t even know what those terms meant.

  To prove she did, she put in those very words as a search term on Galacticnet.

  It had turned out that searching for terms such as “anal,” “blow,” and “hard” would bring forth all sorts of results that one of distinguished tastes would find disturbing.

  Ms. Demoise, however, found the results interesting, and thus began a new life that led her to be more forthcoming with her personality… not to mention other things.

  “Not a chance, Liverboy,” she said, popping her gum.

  Liverbing sighed. “Why not, Ms. Demoise?”

  “First problem, we don’t know if he’s in the ship or not. Second, the ship has a perimeter field around it. It’ll pick up a threat in a blink of an eye and slap up its shields. We’ll be targeted a couple of milliseconds after that and wiped out.”

  “Even if we’re cloaked?” he countered.

  “His ship will destroy anything within the radius of our first volley.” She turned back and gave him a bored look. “In case you hadn’t noticed, a BB gun could take us out.”

  “We could fire the weapons, then travel instantaneously the moment the weapons clear the ship,” suggested Mr. Breem.

  “True,” Demoise said with a shrug. “We’d have to be fast.”

  “I can be very fast, Ms. Demoise.”

  “I like the way you think, Breem.”

  “Uh… Thank you?”

  “We should hit the Bam Bam Closet so I can show my appreciation properly,” Ms. Demoise added with a wink.

  “That’ll be one coin in the coffer from you for using the term “Bam Bam Closet” on the bridge, Ms. Demoise,” stated Liverbing, patting himself on the back for getting the upper hand.

  Demoise batted her eyes at him. “And one coin from you for just using it, too, Liverboy.”

  “Rats.”

  Harr’s voice sounded through the speaker. “Please keep an eye on Veli’s ship, Mr. Liverbing, and let us know if its status changes at all. I’m going to talk with Geezer, Goozer, and Frexle to see if they have any suggestions.”

  “Will do,” Liverbing replied, feeling embarrassed the captain of the Reluctant had just overheard all of that.

  “Sorry to interrupt, sir,” Breem called out, “but a smaller dinosaur just walked away from the ship.”

  “Did you hear that, Captain Harr?”

  “I did. I’ll get my crew on it immediately.”

  CONFRONTATION

  Lord Overseer Pillbox took it upon herself to visit Mr. Corlair this time. It was bad enough he’d convinced her to dump her ethics in the face of gaining power, but then to make a mockery of her first senate meeting by delivering a group of HadItWithTheKillings members to be executed? Horrifying!

  The hoverlimo pulled up in front of Oversoft as a flurry of guards coated the area, removing all threats. That’s what she hoped they were doing, anyway.

  She’d always had a small entourage of agents to protect her, but never anything like this. They were everywhere, pushing people back, holding up traffic, and running around with scanners. The fancy ones, too. Not the antiquated crap her normal agents carried.

  Her door opened and powerful hands reached in to help her out. She was rushed through the wall of guards and brought to the doors of Oversoft.

  It had happened so quickly she’d barely had a chance to take in the massiveness of the building. Aside from its deep blue windows, the only thing she spotted was the trademarked “O” that hung above the doorway.

  Once inside, the dark gray robotic receptionist asked the reason for her visit. Its face was blank. No eyes, nose, or
mouth. Just a triangular head atop of a plain, metal body.

  In some respects, Pillbox preferred seeing robots like this. The more humanoid models were intimidating, acting as a constant reminder that they would one day be the rulers of the universe—assuming people like Mr. Corlair weren’t careful in their designs.

  She shuddered at the thought.

  “I’m here to see Mr. Corlair.”

  “Do you have an appointment, ma’am?”

  “An appointment?” Pillbox said in shock. “I don’t need a damned appointment.”

  “Sorry to inform you, ma’am, but you do if you want an audience with Mr. Corlair. He’s a very busy man, I’m afraid.”

  By now there were a number of employees standing beyond the reach of the guards and up on the balconies. They were all watching the events unfold. This meant Pillbox had to put on an air of power.

  “I demand to see Mr. Corlair now,” she said sternly.

  “Oh, well, if you demand it then that’s something different altogether,” the robot said in a voice laced with sarcasm, its blank face giving nothing away.

  “Are you being serious?”

  “Of course not,” the robot replied.

  “Do you have any idea who I am?”

  At this, the robot stood up and called out, “Everyone, please listen up. This woman just asked if I had any idea who she is. Therefore, I can only conclude that she has forgotten her identity. If anyone happens to know who she is, would you please step forward to help her out?”

  There were giggles throughout the room, including from a number of her agents. She glared at them and they stopped.

  “Now, you listen to me, you piece of metal—”

  She’d barely gotten the words out when she saw Mr. Corlair push through the wall of agents. They either knew him or found him to be of little threat due to his diminutive stature, because they offered no resistance.

  “Good day, Lord Overseer Pillbox,” he said with a warm smile. “To what do I owe this honor?”

  “You tried to set me up, Corlair,” she hissed. “And this damn robot of yours is incorrigible.”

  “Hmmm,” he said, eyeing the robot. “It’s a new line of robots that were programmed to have more of an attitude. You’re the first to complain, but I shall have a look at the records and make necessary adjustments, of course.”

  He then motioned her to follow him into a small room off the main hall. She glanced around, catching on to the fact that publicly announcing their arrangement details was likely not the best plan of action.

  As soon as the door closed behind them and the windows turned opaque, she said, “All those people you sent in as fodder were members of the HadItWithTheKillings group.”

  “And?” he said, looking confused.

  “They were supposed to be Veli supporters!”

  “Ah, yes,” Corlair said as he took the seat at the head of the table. Another power play? “Ultimately, though, does it really matter?”

  She looked at him as though he were insane. “Of course it does. Those were innocent people.”

  “With all due respect, madam, they were merely peons in the grand scheme of things. It’s not like I sent you executives or anyone from the elite class.”

  “Well… What?” Pillbox couldn’t quite wrap her head around that. “I don’t understand.”

  He pointed at the chair and she sat down. Then she mentally slapped herself for allowing him to have such control over her.

  “I know you’re still new to all of this, madam, but you were a senator, yes?”

  “You know I was,” she sniped.

  “And you never took any bribes?”

  Her breath caught in her throat for a moment. “Heavens, no. That would be unethical.”

  “Doesn’t what you’re doing now fall into that same category, madam?” Corlair asked.

  “I…” She stopped and thought it over. He had her dead to rights about that. She’d agreed to all of this when he smooth-talked her into this scheme at her office. Hell, she’d even thrown Senator Iwen under the bus during the senate meeting. “Well, yes, I suppose it does.”

  “So are you saying you wish to give up your newfound position, Interim Lord Overseer Pillbox?”

  Hearing the term “interim” made her whimper. “No.”

  The demon smile returned.

  “You need to expand your horizons, madam. You see, every society requires a class structure. You have the lower class to take care of menial jobs nobody wants to do.”

  “It’s terrible.”

  “On the contrary, madam,” he said with his eyebrows fully up, “they are immensely happy doing their jobs.”

  That went against everything she’d been taught. “They are?”

  “Most assuredly.”

  “Then why, pray tell, are they always complaining?”

  “It’s their way, madam.”

  “Pardon?”

  “You could take the average person and thrust him into the lap of luxury and he’d find things to complain about. Have you never seen one of them win the lottery?”

  She had, many times. They’d get a windfall of money, spend it recklessly, and end up in a spot far worse than they’d started from. It was uncanny.

  “Again, you’re correct.”

  “I know,” he said with his nose turned up. “Next in line you have the upper class. They sit directly below the extreme upper class. They think they have everything because they’re not aware of us.”

  “Oh.”

  “And then there’s the middle class.” He giggled maniacally. “They are my favorite group.”

  “You mean because they are the backbone of our economy?”

  Corlair laughed heartily at this, even to the point of smacking his hand on the conference table a few times. After a few moments, he regained his composure and wiped his eyes.

  That’s when he looked up and clearly noted the look on her face.

  “Oh,” he said, “you’re serious?”

  “I think I am,” she replied, blinking slowly.

  “Madam, you’ve much to learn.” He adjusted his seating position and placed his elbows on the table. “The middle class thinks they are the backbone of the economy, but they are, in fact, the two-bit whore of the super wealthy.”

  “Sorry?”

  “We screw them every chance we get.”

  “That’s terrible,” she hissed in response.

  “It’s the way of things, madam,” Corlair said unapologetically, “and the sooner you come to terms with that, the sooner you’ll advance to the next level in life.”

  She wanted to advance, but to do so by trampling others underfoot was inconsistent with her beliefs. Of course, going back to being a small-time senator with only a handful of agents to protect her was quickly losing its appeal, too.

  “Those people we sent to your meeting were in the middle class, madam,” Corlair said.

  “I see.” She swallowed hard as the ethical part of her brain died a little. “So what you’re saying is that it doesn’t matter what group they’re with, their true purpose in life is fodder for… us?”

  “Well done, Lord Overseer Pillbox. Well done, indeed.”

  ABDUCTING YOUNG VELI

  The cage was on the main bridge. It had been set up to hold back even the strongest of animals, but Harr wasn’t so worried since the androids could certainly handle one small dinosaur.

  He glanced over at them and chewed the inside of his cheek. Then he checked his Captain’s Sidearm, just in case.

  Frexle, Geezer, and Goozer had come up to help in the event the cage wasn’t enough to contain Young Veli. The three couldn’t do much more than quickly transport out the dinosaur, but that was likely the most reasonable response to an attack anyway.

  Grog and Vlak had slipped down to engineering roughly a half an hour before, claiming they wanted to recheck the weaponry they’d created.

  “Engaging transporter now,” said Geezer.

  “You sure about this?�
�� Frexle asked Harr, but the shimmering was already underway.

  Moments later there was a young version of Veli standing behind the bars.

  “I recognize that smell,” said Frexle, holding his nose.

  Young Veli was scanning the ship, looking at each person in turn. He sniffed and grunted a few times. Then he looked at his feet as his claws clacked while he moved back and forth.

  “This again?” the creature said.

  “What?” asked Harr.

  “Not as fancy as the last ship I was on, and they didn’t have me in a cage either.”

  Harr furrowed his brow. “You were abducted before?”

  “A couple of times, yeah,” Young Veli answered and then ran his claws across the bars. “Again, though, no cage. What gives?”

  “Just not taking any chances, knowing who you are.”

  Young Veli tilted his head. “Who am I, again?”

  “You’re Lord Overseer Veli,” said Commander Sandoo.

  “Oh, right.” Young Veli looked around a little more before settling his eyes on Harr. “So you’re the reason the older me is here?”

  “Technically, he’s the reason he’s here,” Harr replied.

  The dinosaur nodded. “Gotcha.”

  “Grog and Vlak?” Harr said through the comm, “I’d like you both up here during this.”

  “During what?” asked Young Veli, backing away from the front of the cage.

  “Don’t feel comfy around those things, dude,” Grog answered.

  “Yeah,” agreed Vlak. “No, thanks.”

  “We all have to do things we’re not comfortable with, Mr. Grog and Mr. Vlak,” Harr said. “Now, get up here, pronto.”

  “There he goes with that ‘mister’ stuff again, Grog.”

  “Must think it’s intimidating or something.”

  “I guess. Anyway, not gonna happen, Cap’n.”

  “Hey, Vlak, that rhymed.”

  Harr fought to maintain his composure.

  “What’s the point of you two if you’re not going to participate on this crew?” he said finally, trying to sound ominous. “I may as well send you back to Mugoog and be done with you.”