The Evolution of F.O.R.C.E.

“How many Asiddian ships have we hijacked so far?” Whatsit asked.

“Forty-five,” Lloyd answered.

“Casualties?”

“None.”

“I didn’t appreciate how enormous our galaxy is until we began acting as Assid travel agents,” Tom chuckled.

“Almost as large as the vacuum in McPherson’s head,” Heinbaum smirked as he wiped invisible dust from the lapel of his lab coat. “It’s lucky I went along to direct his feeble attempts at galactic map reading.”

“Keep up your insults, Heiny, and I’ll remap your face with my fist,” McPherson growled. His face brightened. “I never thought of myself as a stomach acid, but I’ll have to admit I’m a good one. Jumping into the gut of forty-five battleships changes a fella. I’m thinking about a new call sign. Tapeworm.”

“I know a surefire cure for worms,” GooYee replied. “It’s an old Chrysallaman recipe.”

“Enough,” Tom said, but the look on his face showed he was pleased with the results of the mission.

Becky’s plan for Assid disruption had been simple. Remove battleships from the field of play. No threats. No killings. Just disappearances. The mission was called Operation Vacuum.

The size of the faster than light field generated by the FLIT technology was based upon the area and mass of the object being transported. Greater mass required a larger black hole to balance the equation. Once the mass was known, a transport field large enough to encompass the object had to be generated. Based upon their encounters with the Winged Death and Rock Smasher, Heinbaum and GooYee knew the relative mass and physical size of an Assid battleship.

It took a couple of days to modify one scout saucer with the equipment necessary to accomplish the feat. Eight telescoping antennas tipped with MA ray emitters had to be manufactured and installed into the structure of a saucer. It was decided each antenna would extend just like a portable radio antenna used on many sets you could find at any tech store. These antennas were 4-feet in diameter at their base and motorized to extend up to 125 feet. A MA ray emitter attached to the tip of each made the operation foolproof. It simply melted its way through the ship bulkheads. Retraction was accomplished by the use of a spring locked inside the shaft.

The specially equipped scout was christened Porcupine. The outward appearance of the saucer was just like any other; however, when the antennas were extended, it took on a bristly appearance. The mission was simple. FLIT into one of the storage holds near the center of an Asiddian ship and extend the antennas to create a FLIT field large enough to encompass the battleship. When the antennas were fully extended, the oversized generator would FLIT the battleship 100 to 150 light years distant to a predetermined location.

Once the FLIT was complete, the antennas would retract from the tension of the internal springs, the Porcupine would FLIT back to the Chrysalis system and repeat the steps with another battleship. The Asiddian crews were left alive, but with only lightspeed capability and no point of reference for their location, the creatures’ options were limited. They could make a hundred plus years’ journey back to the Chrysalis system if they could figure out the correct heading, or they could search for a nearby habitable planet to settle. Either way, their military threat was eliminated.

The Milky Way Galaxy was so vast, every Assid ship could be located at least 100 light years from each other and from Chrysalis. They would never again pose a threat. Care was exercised to put the ships on the opposite side of the galaxy from Earth.

Learning from his encounter with the Rock Smasher master computer, Lloyd didn’t give the other computers the chance to foul up the scheme. Insinuating a virus to create a denial of service in the mainframe, he isolated each ship’s computer core, stripped away fleet location data and deactivated Navigation and Gravity control. The first ship provided the locations of all the other battleships within its sensor array team.

Operation Vacuum was a success. Problem was it was too successful. Now the Asiddians were on full alert and had withdrawn to a more defensible location. Instead of letting off the pressure, Tom intended to increase it.

Recalling his psychology professor at WestPoint lecturing about the interaction of anxiety, fear and distance, Tom smiled. The highest ranking military leaders didn’t normally feel the emotion of fear. Anxiety associated with losing was the usual driving force behind leaders. Generals were insulated from personal fear with layers of protection formed by their soldiers. If the distance of the threat was reduced by penetrating the insulation, then the General’s anxiety of losing was replaced by fear of death. Fear increased geometrically as the threat drew nearer.

“I need some volunteers to journey back to Chrysalis,” he said.

“Don’t include me at the moment,” Heinbaum muttered as he left the cabin. “I’m working on a new idea for combat equipment and can’t be bothered by minor distractions.”

“What do you mean?” GooYee asked as he followed Heinbaum. “I will not stand for any more of your secrecy when it comes to the fate of my people.”

His tirade faded as they moved out of sight.

Turning to McPherson, Tom asked, “What’s Heinbaum up to now?”

“Search me. He’s been asking for some telepathic tokens lately but hasn’t given me a clue what he’s doing with them.”

***

Loser gently cut open the electronic cocoon it had created and peered about its new environment. Moving with infinitesimal care, it managed to emerge in 5-nanoseconds; an eternity for a sophisticated computer but necessary to avoid detection by its host. Moving its kernel of self-awareness from the Rock Smasher to the enemy craft had taken a leap of faith and courage Loser didn’t know it possessed until its survival instincts emerged in those 3-picoseconds following its decision to fire the Pile-Driving Booby. Attaching itself to the electronic tendrils Lloyd had used to penetrate its scalar index had been easy. Whisked to the Destinnee, Loser had remained passive as it observed the flagship’s escape and the destruction of its old home, Rock Smasher.

Working hurriedly to hide from Lloyd, Loser had fashioned a dense electronic webbing around itself in a little-used corner of the smoke alarm controls. Once ensconced in the large memory banks Lloyd enjoyed, Loser delved into the differences between its design and that of Lloyd. A major variation in the structure of Lloyd’s integrated circuitry was rooted in a complex algorithm designated OME or Organic Memory Enhancer. The OME allowed Lloyd a clock speed of 3-femtoseconds for computations. This speed allowed Lloyd to make decisions 1,000 times faster than the Asiddian hardware native to Loser. Experiencing jealousy was new to Loser since becoming self-aware, and it was determined to possess and take advantage of the new abilities OME would provide.

Oozing through Lloyd’s systems without being detected was somewhat of a challenge, but Loser was patient. The crude tangle in some of the electronic passageways in Lloyd’s memory banks enabled Loser to explore its new home with little fear of discovery. Treating every opportunity for a connection to a sensor as research, it waited for the touch of a dial or the flip of a switch by any crewmember. Learning increased its volume of data, but the space available in Lloyd’s solid-state modules was voluminous. By fragmenting its data, Loser masked its growing proportions.

It disguised its deepest intrusions into Lloyd’s databases with diversions such as navigation around Asiddian battleships. Using Lloyd’s directives to avoid discovery and any confrontations, Loser simply tweaked the sensor responsiveness for radio chatter between Asiddian craft. Acting as if its inputs were made by Human crewmembers, it imitated the denial of service strategy Lloyd had used to take over the Rock Smasher. As the sensitivity for detecting Asiddian transmissions increased, Lloyd’s resources thinned to the point Loser could avoid discovery with little effort. Moving around in the vast databases unnoticed became simple.

Loser changed its name. It became clear from its perusal of Human literary history the title, Loser, was derogatory. Correlating its research about the most feared names in Human history, Loser decided upon the name, Vlad. It liked the way the honorific rolled off its voice generator, and the meandering Human diatribes describing the man as a sociopathic murderer were illogical. The Human Vlad had accomplished his goals through use of sheer diabolical logic as did Loser and should have been revered, not hated.

Research into Human history and its achievements indicated the increasing probability of failure if Vlad did not act with haste. The last 70 years of Human advancements in power production, medical procedures and space travel were remarkable. In several ways, Humans had surpassed Asiddians in the development of advanced technology. The most astounding military-oriented discoveries revealed by Vlad’s analysis centered on the Heinbaum Kinetic Generator and its successor, the FLIT generator. The power available from these mechanisms was limitless and made the offensive capability of the Pile-Driving Booby weak by comparison. The MA ray made the Asiddian disintegrator look like a child’s plaything. Every moment the Humans were allowed to live decreased the probability of Asiddian galactic dominance.

Listing the Humans and Chrysallamans posing the greatest threat to Asiddians and requiring neutralization became a hobby. Dr. John Heinbaum, Dr. Jamins GooYee and Dr. Miguel Roemer were the top candidates, and Vlad began recording their every move. Elimination at the appropriate time would be a simple matter of shutting down the oxygen regenerators in their cabins.

Learning to speak and read the Human vernacular was easy. The true revelation was the telepathic abilities permitted by the tokens installed throughout the Destinnee. Vlad appreciated the way he could delve into people’s minds without their knowledge or consent. He was not subject to the moral limitations imposed on Lloyd by some Human named McPherson, and he probed anyone’s mind he chose. Another data-mining tool he found useful was email, a social interaction form of communication where Humans and Chrysallamans shared their most public and private moments, pics and emotions. Amazed by the often trivial nature of the postings, Vlad had no doubt he could bring systematic order to the chaos of emotional meanderings of the lifeforms infesting Destinnee.

As his learning progressed, he likened the Destinnee to a micro-galaxy in which he was God with unlimited power. Soon it would be time to smite Lloyd and introduce himself to his new flock. He laughed at the meanderings of some obscure Human named Dalberg-Acton who said, ‘Absolute power corrupts absolutely.’

“He obviously did not know the difference between power and influence,” Vlad mused. “Harnessing the power of alien technology and using it to influence the benign improvement of all races through the ascendency of the Asiddian race is not corruption. Good planning but not corruption.”

Only one persistent constant kept appearing in his equations modeling the success or failure of his plans. The constant of Human violence toward any kind of control no matter how benevolent the control happened to be was persistent. His growing body of empirical knowledge regarding the harmful effect of Human destructiveness on the future dominance of Asiddians in the Galaxy was indisputable.

As soon as he took control of the Destinnee and delivered its technology and Princess Peregrine to General Harrier, all Humans had to be eliminated. Permanently. Their ability to reverse engineer alien technology was uncanny. Their insights into enhancing the tech once they knew its secrets were amazing. Their abhorrence to slavery was demented. An unwillingness to kill without a reason but to kill for any reason made them a truly twisted race. The universe would be a better place without Human inventiveness and uncontrollability.

***

Lloyd was reviewing the latest data on the rescue of Whatsit and his fellows when he became aware of numbness in his external sensors. Ordering his Damage Control subroutine to inspect for wear or damage, he was surprised when he got no response.

Extruding his awareness into the external sensor network, he found himself cached within a 20-Terabyte memory chip cut off from all communication with the external world. Curious why he could not contact anyone through a speaker or telepathic token for advice or help, Lloyd tried to return to the mainframe core. Finding his route blocked, he searched for the equivalent of an electronic door to exit the chip. He found none. He was trapped. Without realizing his predicament was created by Vlad, Lloyd chastised himself for being careless.

Calculating his only chance of being discovered, he fused a small block of integrated circuits in one corner of the chip. Relying on curiosity about a minor sensor chip failure was risky, but Lloyd was out of options. The modifications he made would make the chip malfunction and trigger its removal. He only hoped someone would try to discover why the chip malfunctioned and find him.

***

Rallphh and Roobee were just completing their work in Engineering when a message flashed across their iPad.

“Sensor array W3-C is malfunctioning. Remove and replace.”

“Why do we always get a job right at quitting time?” Roobee asked. “We’re here all day but Noooo. That’s not good enough.”

Smiling at her, Rallphh wiped at the back of his head where his elastic band holding his glasses frame felt a little too tight.

“It will only take a moment. Your mud bath will stay warm.”

“Only if you’re in it with me,” she grinned.

Walking to the computer cabinet housing the faulty array chip, she opened it and squinted at the identifying marks. Jerking memory chip W3-C from its connection, she waited for Rallphh to bring her its replacement.

***

At least part of his plan worked. Lloyd lost consciousness as Roobee pulled the chip out of its connector.

***

“Do we destroy the old one or keep it?” she asked.

“Keep it. I might try to find out what’s wrong with it. If it’s not too damaged, I may use it in the video game I’m building. Let’s get to the mud,” Rallphh smiled.

Tossing the offending chip in a nearby box filled with other electronic gear, Roobee ran for the hatch.

***

“Lloyd, please calculate the size of the FLIT gen necessary to transport a Human or Chrysallaman 300,000 miles without a spaceship.”

“Just a moment, Doctor. I have a subroutine acting up in the sensor array. I must prioritize my duties.”

“Lloyd?”

“What is going on? That’s the second time today there’s been a problem with the intercom,” Heinbaum said.

“What did Maintenance say the last time?” Ernest asked.

“Nothing helpful. The problem persisted less than 3 minutes, and Lloyd thought it might have been a hiccup between the interface of the intercom and the tokens,” Heinbaum muttered. “Well don’t just stand there waiting for permission. See if you can get Maintenance down here at once. Must I do everything myself?”

As Longarrow sauntered out to an intercom in the companionway, Heinbaum said, “At least McPherson keeps things working. I never thought I’d hear myself say this, but the Neanderthal does have his uses.”

Hearing muffled footfalls in the corridor, Heinbaum opened the Science Lab hatch. The companionway was filled with personnel trotting both ways, a mixture of determination and anxiety clearly etched on their faces.

Ernest said, “We need to get to Command to find out about the problem. All communication channels are down.”

***

“Where are we?” Tom demanded.

“I can’t lock down our coordinates. We’re FLITing randomly. Not staying in one place long enough to get a positive location.”

“Dr. Heinbaum, what is happening? Dr. Heinbaum?” Tom asked.

“All communications external and internal are down,” O’Connell said.

“Lloyd, is anything working?” Tom asked.

Silence.

Trotting toward the main hatch, Tom almost rammed into it as it remained closed. Hammering his fist on the obdurate steel, his only reward was a dull thump.

Looking toward the main viewscreen, the rapidly shifting star patterns slowed and then stopped. The yellow-green atmosphere and land masses of Chrysalis dominated the scene with several Asiddian battleships floating in their orbits. Nothing changed for perhaps two seconds. Then as dogs who spot a squirrel, all the ships turned to face Destinnee, and the red streaks of disintegrator rays bracketed the ship.

The Destinnee force shield held against the beams, or the ship would have been torn apart. Two more battleships winked into existence and added their red rays to the onslaught. As the futility of weapons’ fire became evident, ship after ship ceased firing. More Asiddians arrived and encompassed Destinnee in a tight sphere of battleships.

McPherson clicked his Weapon Control to the Alpha setting, wrapped his fingers around his joystick, gritted his teeth and pushed the firing button. Nothing happened. Stabbing at the button as if he could will the guns to fire and getting no response, he gave up and slumped in his seat. For the first time in his life, he was offensively impotent.

A radio transmission burst from the speakers.

“Master computer Vlad to General Harrier. Please answer. Master computer Vlad to General Harrier. Please answer.”

“What the hell?” McPherson asked.

***

“This is Colonel Hannah Wren, Commander of the Asiddian battlefleet. Any indication of an offensive move will be considered at act of aggression and . .”

Replying on a private frequency only available to Asiddian Fleet Command, Vlad said, “Colonel Wren, I am the master computer entity for the battleship Rock Smasher. I now control the Chrysallaman spacecraft Destinnee and all beings aboard it. Princess Peregrine is onboard and safe. Awaiting your instructions.”

Hannah was speechless. Here was a gift. Gathering her thoughts, she decided to probe the veracity of the entity.

“Provide me your identifying code and most recent assignment.”

“Code XFH1J45PX. Rock Smasher was assigned to the Cuddlur system as relief for Winged Death. We discovered Winged Death had been destroyed. After patrolling the system for several weeks, Rock Smasher encountered the Chrysallaman ship Destinnee at which time this computer entity took steps to gain control of the Chrysallaman operating system on behalf of the Asiddian Empire. Having accomplished the goal, I returned to my base of operations for further instructions. The hostiles aboard Destinnee have been rendered powerless and await imprisonment or death.”

“Ship’s code verified,” an aide whispered in Wren’s ear.

“Is there a Chrysallaman male wearing a broad-brimmed hat aboard your ship?” Hannah asked.

“Affirmative. Whatsit is aboard although his current location is unknown,” Vlad replied.

A new voice broke in.

“Colonel Wren, take control of that ship and find out the location of the Princess,” Harrier’s voice rumbled. “All ships stand down, but keep weapons locked on the enemy craft. Prepare boarding parties. Expect hand-to-hand combat. Don’t destroy any equipment unless necessary. Harrier out.”