U-10

“I don’t understand why Agent Frost hasn’t reported her status,” Richard Cruneval grumbled.

“It is not like her,” Kristan Thann agreed.

Three people sat at a small conference table in a windowless room. The silent, dark, LCD TV screen hung on a nearby wall matched the grim atmosphere hovering over the gathering.

Richard Cruneval was the Head of Special Extraction or Elimination Division operations, acronym SEED. Cruneval was ruthless and objective driven. Once he started a project, his entire life was devoted to its successful conclusion. His tenacity and success kept him in the agency’s top job. During seven years in command, his skin had become pallid, and the thick, puffy bags under his eyes had darkened. His only persistent vanity was his hair and cologne. His hair was always combed and parted near the middle of his skull, held in place by a generous dollop of hair gel he applied every morning. His body exuded a strong, perfumy odor that clung to him like an early morning fog over a lake. If he shook your hand, the smell adhered to your palm. The fragrance reminded you of a coffin surrounded by too many lilies. It smelled sweet and fetid like death - like a well-used funeral home.

Kristan Thann was a brown-haired woman with a Master’s Degree in Psychology. During her post-graduate apprenticeship in China, she had specialized in hypnotic persuasion and brain-washing techniques. She crafted her appearance to be attractive and inviting. Based upon her makeup, hairstyle and clothing, most people perceived her as open, intelligent and ready to listen. Her facade hid her true nature. In reality, Thann was DIMS - Diabolical, Intelligent, Murderous and Spiteful. She was second in command at SEED and regarded most of Cruneval’s orders with contempt. In fact, if Cruneval had realized how much she hated him, he would have ended her career with a dose of rat poison.

Miles Turner sat straight-backed with his hands folded in his lap. He had short, dark hair and a round face set with a permanent smile. Some people have faces that always seem happy. Turner was one of those individuals. Even when he was angry, he looked like he was smiling. The giveaways to his true nature were his dead, brown eyes. They were cold, brutal kernels of lifelessness that never changed despite his happy expression. He seldom spoke, preferring to answer questions with nods or shakes of his head. Turner was the prime effectuator of the desires of Cruneval. A dedicated sociopath, Turner was as hesitant about killing people as a gardener was hesitant about pulling a weed from a flower bed.

“Real-time satellite video shows Frost arrived at the crash site, remained some 45 minutes and then left with two MRAP’s in a southwesterly direction,” Cruneval said. “Her GPS locator has her position pinpointed, but we can’t see where she is until the Earth rotates again.”

“I told you our satellite needed to be maneuverable,” Thann said.

“I will not get into another argument with you about the budget,” Cruneval warned. “Be thankful your only concern is financial.”

A snicker escaped Turner’s lips, and Thann shot him a threatening glare.

Changing the subject, she said, “I’m still surprised we had such advance notice of the UFO crash.”

“Something exploded near Mars while the Hubble Telescope was searching for habitable planets in Galaxy XA35. Just luck it was pointed in that direction but the flash attracted the attention of our people at NASA. Tracking the source was simple once we knew where to look,” Cruneval replied.

“I think we should send a backup team to assist Frost,” Turner said. “The military stationed in that desert area are not equipped to handle alien threats, and she has some mission failures that have never been explained to my satisfaction.”

“I agree with Turner,” Thann smiled. “Even if Frost had an unblemished record, we offer a robust array of useful, complementary services.”

“Frost may not have your ‘succeed at all costs’ attitude, but failure is not confined just to her operations,” Cruneval replied, ignoring Turner’s glare. “I don’t see a downside to providing her with assistance, but I want the alien and its tech preserved, not destroyed. Understood?”

“Of course,” Turner said, stifling his anger at the veiled reference to the fiasco in Nova Scotia. “I’ll be wheels up in 30.”

“I’m going with you this time,” Thann said. “We may need cooperation from the local military, and you don’t work well with others.”

“Sticks and stones,” Turner smiled but his eyes flashed contempt.

***

Radio chatter clamored in the background as Colonel Roy Hubert stared through the front windscreen of his MRAP. Shifting his weight, he wondered how any designer could have conceived of a more uncomfortable seat.

“How far to the campsite?” he asked the driver.

“Two klicks, Sir,” Private Donnelly replied.

Turning to the Rangers stuffed into the rear personnel compartment, Hubert said, “Huneycutt, send a drone to inspect the camp. If it’s abandoned, try to find some indication of where Lavender’s squad wandered.”

“Yes, Sir,” Second Lieutenant Jase Huneycutt replied.

While Huneycutt was launching the drone, Hubert studied a map of the surrounding desert. There were too many places a clever Insurgent could use to set up an ambush. Hubert’s sense of self-preservation was screaming ‘Be Careful’. Two MRAP’s had already returned with wounded from an Insurgent attack at Lavender’s campsite, and Hubert was not about to allow a repeat of the skirmish. He needed more information. Ty Lavender was a friend and a capable warrior. The fact that he had been incommunicado for several hours was odd and worrisome.

Has the drone spotted any Insurgent activity?” he asked.

Huneycutt was concentrating on his laptop video streaming from the drone camera and ignored the question. It wasn’t until Corporal Tom Abrams elbowed him that he looked up.

“Oh, uh, no, Sir,” Huneycutt stammered. “There are bodies everywhere.”

“What do you mean?” Hubert asked.

“Sir, I have over thirty Insurgent casualties and still counting,” Huneycutt said.

“What? Say again,” Hubert thundered.

“The area around the campsite is littered with Insurgent bodies, Sir. Thirty and counting. It’s a massacre,” Huneycutt replied.

“What about Lavender and his squad?”

“No sign of them. Tracks in the sand indicate they abandoned camp and hiked south toward a ridgeline.”

Frowning in thought, Hubert made a decision he would later recount as psychic.

“Lieutenant Huneycutt, have the drone follow the tracks. Help Donnelly stay on them. Abrams, advise the other MRAP drivers. Keep the drone a half kilometer ahead of us. I want some advance warning about possible threats.”

***

Fakhoury was using binoculars to inspect the vacant campsite and the Insurgent bodies strewn around it when one of his men approached.

“Chieftain, the convoy has changed direction. The infidels now travel due south, away from the camp.”

Frowning, Fakhoury turned to Akhund, lying beside him, and asked, “What is happening?”

“The camp is abandoned. Perhaps they received a radio message telling them where to meet the reinforcements,” Akhund replied. “Maybe the poison gas is still active, and they don’t want to be anywhere near it.”

There was logic in the words, even though they were a lie. Fakhoury nodded.

“Halil, tell the others to regroup with us. We will follow the infidels. They will lead us to the killers, and we will end them all.”

“Yes, Chieftain,” Halil replied.

***

Frost woke with a splitting headache. The left side of her face was swollen.

She tried to rub her eyes, but every time she moved her arms, her legs bent backwards. Hog ties are like that.

Studying her surroundings, she discovered she was in the spaceship’s hold next to the front wheels of the Humvee. Something squeaked on the deck nearby and a set of light-blue, sequined shoes stepped into her field of vision.

“She’s awake,” Psycho said.

Ty and Sasquatch walked into view. They were each wearing skintight bodysuits covered with glistening sequins. Snub-nosed weapons that reminded Frost of Uzi machine guns were slung over their shoulders. The major difference in appearance was the weapons were made from what looked like iridescent glass, and they didn’t have a magazine for bullets.

“Has a SEED operative ever been captured?” Sasquatch asked.

“My guess is it’s rare,” Ty replied.

“How long have I been out?” Frost demanded.

“Around two hours, give or take,” Psycho said. “Wraith doesn’t fool around with a threat.”

“I’m no threat. It’s my job to protect America and its future.”

“Stop the grandstanding,” Ty said. “What you meant was it’s your job to protect SEED and its future no matter the cost, including American lives.”

“Don’t act so noble around me,” Frost shot back. “You’re the one who disobeyed orders and stole alien tech for your own use. I just tried to stop you.”

The air next to Lavender shimmered, and a bodysuited figure appeared. It touched the side of its neck, and its helmet slid open revealing the smiling face of Hashtag.

“These suits are amazing,” he said as he flexed his arms.

“They’re too tight,” Sasquatch complained as he pulled at his crotch. “At least they don’t itch.”

“It’s amazing how it conforms to body shape. The moment you close the zipper, the fabric molds itself to your physique. Tall, short, fat, thin – it makes no difference,” Hashtag said.

“What about the ship?” Ty asked.

“We have full control,” Hashtag responded. “As soon as we put on these outfits, the ship’s computer recognized us as authentic crew members. Seems the crickets couldn’t imagine anyone but them having control of the ship. We don’t even need the translation chips because the computer recognizes our language.”

“Anything else?” Ty asked.

“We didn’t let Koritt have one of the suits. The computer speaks his language, of course, but won’t follow any of his instructions. He’s a most frustrated cricket,” Hashtag grinned.

“Frustration seems to be contagious,” Lavender said as he turned toward Frost. “Psycho, you and Sasquatch escort Ms. Frost to the control room. I want to see the frustration on her face when we fly this bad-boy back to Base. I’m sure Colonel Hubert knows some Air Force people who would love to get their hands on it.”

“You can’t turn this treasure over to the Air Force or anyone else,” Frost warned. “Don’t you realize the implications of its existence to Human history, teachings and religious beliefs?”

Kneeling next to Frost and putting his face close from hers, Lavender said, “Your treachery tilted the scales in favor of my friends and fellow countrymen. Your solution would keep the knowledge for the sole benefit of SEED regardless of consequences.”

“When I don’t report back to my people, they’ll come looking for me,” Frost replied.

“I’m counting on it.”

***

“I want the road blocked by three trucks,” Fakhoury ordered as he reviewed a rough map of the terrain.

He stood by the side of a road at the end of a deep canyon. The road being followed by the Americans led into the canyon. The steep walls would funnel them straight into Fakhoury’s trap.

A few well-placed roadside bombs had forced the US military convoy to stop several times. The delay allowed Fakhoury and his fighters to get ahead of them far enough to stage a full-scale attack.

“Put one hundred men on each side of the canyon walls, and the rest behind the roadblock,” he continued.

Making marks on the map, Fakhoury chose where he wanted rocket propelled grenade launchers.

“There can be no mistake,” he warned.

Akhund tried to hide in the background, unnoticed. He cringed when he heard his name.

“You will be in command of the roadblock, Akhund. As the point of our spear, you will regain your honor. Once the cursed US soldiers are eliminated, the memory of your embarrassing defeat by the small group of Infidels will fade as stories of this battle are retold.”

Akhund tried to hide his cowardice by disguising it as wisdom.

“Your experience is overwhelming, Chieftain, but would it not be a better move to keep your best fighters as backup? The Infidels have already demonstrated their willingness to use poison gas to kill our fighters. If they use of the gas again, many of our men will die. We should preserve our experienced men for a counterattack. After all, we don’t have enough gasmasks for everyone.”

Fakhoury seemed to consider Akhund’s words for a moment as his dark eyes shifted back and forth.

“A reasonable point indeed,” Fakhoury said at last. “Your suggestion has merit; however, the tip of our spear must have an experienced leader to keep it sharp. You will command the roadblock to give our less experienced fighters the best chance for glory.”

Akhund forced his head to nod, but his mind was screaming, “Caca!”

***

The cockpit of the alien spacecraft was smaller than Ty imagined.

Two people seated and two standing behind them was all the compartment would hold. A crew cabin aft of the cockpit contained eight passenger seats, arranged one on each side of a wide aisle.

“Does anyone have experience flying a plane?” Ty asked as he studied the control panel laid out below a large view screen.

“We’ve jumped out of plenty,” Psycho replied to others’ nods and chuckles.

Hashtag raised his hand in a half-hearted gesture and said, “I’ve spent a few hours playing the X-Plane video simulator.”

“How many?” Ty asked.

“I lost count after the first week,” Hashtag grinned.

“I thought so. See what you can do with this,” Ty said as he nodded at the panel.

“You aren’t serious about flying this transport?” Koritt asked. “It is far beyond your capabilities.”

“Listen to him for once,” Frost pleaded. She had been forced to sit in the rear of the passenger cabin across from Koritt, but she’d kept her eyes on Ty.

“The value of this ship to US scientists is incalculable. The drive technology alone will be revolutionary. Your cowboy antics will destroy it.”

“I don’t think so,” Ty replied as Hashtag took one of the seats in front of the control panel.

“Computer, are you capable of full control of this craft?” Hashtag asked.

“Once I am given Auto-Control Override permission, I can manage all flight operations,” the Computer responded.

“Very good,” Hashtag replied. “How do I authorize Auto-Control Override?”

A switch on the control panel started blinking, and Hashtag flipped it.

“Auto-Control authorized,” the Computer announced. “Awaiting your instructions.”

“Do you have the capability of changing the sound of your voice?” Ty asked.

“Yes.”

“What’s wrong with the way it sounds?” Wraith asked from the hatch. “Kinda reminds me of my mechanical drafting teacher in high school. Precise and mono-toned.”

“It’s too deadpan. I want to hear a personality,” Ty replied.

“Regulations require every transport have the same computer speech tone and pattern,” Koritt said. “It creates the uniformity necessary for general use vehicles.”

Ignoring the cricket, Ty asked, “Computer, can you simulate a Human voice?”

“Yes.”

After some trial and error, an increase in bass and a leveling of the treble tone, everyone except Koritt and Frost agreed the simulated Human voice was acceptable. Ty had a vague feeling he had heard the voice somewhere - like blaring from a pool hall jukebox.

“Computer, do you have a name?” Ty asked

“I am Computer. There has never been another name.”

“I’m not calling you, Computer,” Ty said. “It’s too unimaginative.”

“My life has become a bad dream ever since I arrived here,” Koritt mumbled.

“You mean crashed,” Psycho chuckled.

The rear hatch to the passenger compartment banged open, and Roadkill entered.

“Everything is tied down and ready for liftoff,” he said.

“Let’s get some altitude and try out our new toy,” Ty said. “Computer, your designation is now Elvis. Confirm.”

“This unit is now Elvis. What are your instructions?”

“Take us to an altitude of 2,000 meters and scan for lifeforms,” Hashtag said.

Turning to look at his team, Hashtag grinned, “I always wanted to scan for lifeforms.”

“This is not a scifi movie,” Frost said with no little indignation.

“Who is Elvis?” Koritt asked.

***

Everyone felt a slight shudder as the Transport lifted off the valley floor. The view screen showed a clear picture of the western landscape as the craft rose over the hills that hid the valley.

There was no audible sound and no sensation of movement other than the visual perception of rising felt by passengers in a helicopter. The craft leveled off at an elevation of 2,000 meters.

“Elvis, are we still invisible?” Hashtag asked.

“Affirmative. Protocol dictates the cloak be maintained at all times when observing a non-Galactic Coalition planet,” Elvis responded.

“Please scan the surrounding terrain for Human lifeforms,” Hashtag said.

“Movement detected in the northwest quadrant. On screen,” Elvis replied as the video feed shifted and focused.

From a distance, the first view of the movement was a finger of dust. As the telescopic features of the view screen kicked into operation, enough detail appeared for Ty to identify several MRAPs. The vehicles were entering a narrow canyon.

Activity on the fringes of the view screen attracted Wraith’s attention.

“What is going on right there?” she asked as she touched the screen.

The scene pivoted and focused on the area she indicated. Dozens of people wearing keffiyahs hid in the rocks overlooking the canyon. Almost all of them held rifles, but there were several long, bulbous-headed rocket-propelled grenade launchers scattered around.

“Show the opposite side of the canyon. Same elevation,” Ty demanded.

The scene pivoted again as per instructions, swiveling at a dizzying speed. The new viewpoint revealed more armed men staring at the approaching MRAPs. Everyone crowded toward the control room, trying the catch a glimpse of what was being shown on the screen.

“It’s an ambush,” Psycho said.

“They’re driving into a trap,” Fisheye growled.

“Elvis, how is this craft armed?” Ty asked.

“Laser cannon, photon emitter, anti-personnel blinker and planet neutralizer are the principal weaponry,” Elvis said.

“Planet neutralizer?” Koritt asked.

Ty thought he heard some surprise in Koritt’s question, but his curiosity had to take a back seat to the current situation.

“Elvis, fly to the canyon and hover. Use the laser cannon to take out as many of the people in the cliffs as possible,” Ty ordered. “Do not fire on the personnel in the trucks at the other end of the canyon.”

“Complying,” Elvis responded.

With dizzying speed, the transport covered the ten-kilometer distance to the canyon in less than a second. The maneuver was so fast, Ty had trouble comprehending the ship was hovering over the canyon rather than the hidden valley. There was no sensation of movement other than the changing landscape shown on the view screen as they streaked across the desert.

***

The truck Akhund stood behind was the largest of the three blocking the road exiting the canyon. There was no doubt the US soldiers had firepower capable of blowing the trucks out of their way, but the purpose of the roadblock was to delay the infidels long enough for Fakhoury’s ambush to wipe them out.

Akhund didn’t like the idea of being forced to rely on Insurgent goat herders with little or no combat training to eliminate the American threat, but he had no choice. Fakhoury didn’t trust him for some reason and seemed hell-bent on testing his loyalty and leadership skills.

Fakhoury’s lackey, Halil, stood so close behind Akhund, he could feel the man’s breath on the back of his neck. It smelled like soured goat milk.

“Back off,” Akhund snarled as he turned to stare at Halil. “I have enough on my mind without having to smell your rancid breakfast.”

Halil backed away and smiled. Several of his teeth were missing, and his eyes looked wild.

“Chieftain Fakhoury has bestowed a great honor on you,” Halil said. “I just want to be near the tip of the spear.”

“Never mind your lies,” Akhund said. “Are the explosives ready to detonate?”

Halil’s bloodshot eyes narrowed at the insult. “Yes, they are hidden at the spots you chose. When the lead MRAP triggers the first one, the other explosives wired to it will detonate. The nails and screws packed in the bombs will cause many injuries.”

Akhund hated Halil’s blind allegiance to Fakhoury.

Perhaps a lucky shot would kill the man.

Grinning at the thought, Akhund resumed waiting for the first roadside bomb to explode.

His smile broadened as the lead MRAP stopped near the buried explosive. An odd buzzing sound drew his attention. The bright morning sun forced him to shade his eyes, but at last Akhund saw the tiny drone hovering overhead.

“Shoot that thing!” he screamed.

***

The MRAP carrying Colonel Hubert had just entered the canyon when Lieutenant Huneycutt called out a warning.

“The drone has spotted three Insurgent trucks blocking the canyon.”

“Stop,” Hubert ordered.

The MRAP lurched and skidded as Donnelly jammed the brakes. The trailing MRAP slid to a stop.

“Talk to me,” Hubert said as he twisted in his seat.

“Three large trucks are blocking the road ahead,” Huneycutt said. “There are at least thirty or more Insurgents hiding behind them. The drone is almost out of power, and its automatic homing feature will kick into operation in a moment. I’ll have to change its battery before I can get more Intel.”

“Damn,” Hubert said. “We’ll be blind until you get it back in the air. Everyone out. We’re sitting ducks in these MRAPs. Standard defensive deployment. You can bet there are more of them in the hills.”

Hubert opened his door and started to climb out when he heard Lieutenant Huneycutt swear. The anger in his voice was unmistakable.

“They killed my drone. Shot it out of the sky while it was hovering over the roadblock. Our eye is gone.”

“What happened?” Hubert asked.

“Someone out there is a darn good shot but not from the ground. The killshot came from the east hillside. My guess is both sides of the canyon are full of Insurgents,” Huneycutt replied.

Hubert was considering the consequences of the drone loss when his comm crackled. He was about to acknowledge the call when something smacked into the bulletproof glass in his open door. A spider web of cracks spread through the glass from the point of impact as Hubert’s mind grasped the fact he had almost been killed. The sound of automatic AK47′s filled the air, and Hubert made an instant decision. Instead of closing the door and staying inside the MRAP, he hopped out and ran for the side of the canyon where a rocky outcrop offered more cover.

“We’re under attack,” Captain Randy Hourman screamed over the comm. “Two of my men are down.”

At that moment, an IED buried in the road ahead of the lead MRAP exploded. Shrapnel bounced against the armored truck with loud clangs. Smoke and fine, sandy dust clouded the air. The door Hubert had left open shook as metal shards hit it.

Another IED exploded on the side of the road beside the trailing MRAP. The heavy vehicle lifted a little from the concussive force and more shrapnel zinged around. The crater left from the bomb was almost one and a half meters across and one meter deep. More smoke and dust billowed into a tall cloud.

Without warning, a rocket propelled grenade shot into the open passenger door of Hubert’s MRAP. The cab exploded and turned into a blazing furnace. Another grenade shot into the roof of the trailing MRAP and exploded in a cascade of burning debris.

An odd thought crossed Hubert’s mind just as a bullet ricocheted off the rock near his head.

“I guess I won’t get to see the next season of ‘Supernatural’ after all.”

***

“Detonate the bombs,” Fakhoury ordered. “Use the RPG‘s to disable the trucks.”

Experience told Fakhoury his ambush was thwarted. The cursed Americans stopped moving into the canyon the moment their drone was shot down. Now the roadside bombs had to be used to create confusion. With any luck, the shrapnel would cause some injury that could be exploited.

Smoke and dust from the explosions obscured the area around the MRAPs, but Fakhoury heard some faint cries of anguish that told him the shrapnel had some success.

He was waiting for a clear view of the damage when streaks of red light flashed from the sky. Several men along the hillsides slumped over as the red streaks burned through them.

The light rays plowed straight through the rocks and mounds of dirt the men hid behind. What was effective cover from bullets was useless against the fingers of death shooting from the cloudless sky.

Fakhoury watched in disbelief as hundreds of his Insurgent militia were skewered. He perceived a flash, felt a burning sensation in his chest and smelled roasted meat just before he died.

***

Akhund dived for the sand, burying his face as red light streaks flashed from the sky.

Rolling under the truck was the only way his churning thoughts could think of to escape being struck by the lightning bolts. He watched with bulging eyes as his fellow Insurgents fell dead. Smoke curled into the air from the holes in their bodies. Akhund dared not crawl from under the truck for fear of another barrage of the red rays.

Taking his time, he crawled to a place where he could look into the sky. There had to be something overhead killing his men, but nothing was visible.

Deciding not to tempt Fate by exposing his position, Akhund slid deeper into the shadows under the truck.

***

Colonel Hubert was considering his options when he saw hundreds of red light beams streak from the middle of the clear sky into the canyon walls.

The light show continued for about forty-five seconds, and the sounds of gun-fire became less and less until it stopped all together. Hubert let another minute go by in silence before he activated his comm.

“All personnel, report,” Hubert ordered. “What is happening?”

“Lieutenant Huneycutt here, Sir. All Insurgent activity has stopped. I repeat. All Insurgent activity has stopped.”

“They’re regrouping. Stay alert. Report status,” Hubert ordered.

“Four dead, eight wounded. The medic is triaging now while the shooting is stopped. What were those red flashes?”

“I don’t know. They came out of nowhere,” Hubert replied as he inched out of his rocky cover.

A familiar voice thundered out of his comm. The sound was so loud, he cringed at the volume. Like the rest of his men, Colonel Hubert twirled his volume control to its lowest setting and listened.

“Colonel Hubert. This is Lieutenant Ty Lavender. All Insurgent fighters have been killed. My Orion Squad is in control of the area. Prepare for Evac.”

Hubert’s eyes roved the canyon and the empty sky, but he saw nothing to indicate either an aircraft or anything large enough to broadcast the deafening words.

“You sound like Ty Lavender, but the only thing he could fly is a kite. Besides, there’s no way anyone could land a fixed wing aircraft in this canyon, and I don’t hear a helicopter,” Hubert said.

The air above the canyon shimmered, and a sleek, dull gray craft with white trim appeared out of nowhere. It was almost as wide as the canyon floor, and as it settled to the ground, Hubert heard brush and rocks crushing under its weight. Two observation ports of clear glass dominated the bow of the craft, and Hubert thought he saw something moving inside them. Rows of antennas over the ports gave the impression of eyebrows. As soon as the craft settled, a ramp began opening under its bow.

Hubert realized his mouth was hanging open and shut it so fast his teeth clicked.

***

“Infestation of Humans eliminated,” Elvis announced as the last laser beam hit its target.

The view screen included a digital display in its upper right-hand corner labeled ‘Targets’. The counter had started at 302. It now showed 1.

“Unbelievable,” Hashtag whispered.

“My God,” Wraith mumbled. “There’s one survivor?”

“Yes,” Elvis said. “One enemy combatant is hiding under a truck. I will target him the moment he leaves its shelter.”

“Do not kill him,” Ty ordered. “Someone needs to report what happened to the Insurgents. Maybe his story will be a warning against future attacks on Americans.”

Koritt pushed out of his seat and walked toward the cockpit. Fisheye stepped in front of him and put the barrel of his pistol under the alien’s mandibles.

“I must access the mission parameters,” Koritt said. “The inventory of weaponry is beyond that needed for a normal rescue.”

Ty heard the odd tone in the cricket’s voice and asked, “What do you mean?”

“I heard the words ‘planet neutralizer’. Such a weapon on a small transport is most unusual,” Koritt replied.

Ty sensed urgency in Koritt’s voice and nodded. Fisheye lowered his pistol but didn’t holster it.

“Computer, tell me the specifics of your mission to this planet,” Koritt ordered.

“You are not a crewmember, and this unit is no longer identified as Computer,” Elvis replied.

Koritt was dumbfounded. The Humans had been on the ship less than an hour and had already reprogrammed its primary operating system. Not only that, the Computer sounded offended by his instruction. There was no doubt the experiment amplifying the intelligence of the Humans had succeeded beyond expectations.

“What have you done?” Koritt demanded. “Tampering with Corporation property is forbidden.”

Most of his species would never consider meddling with standard, time-honored operating systems. It seemed Humans weren’t content with common ideals. They even named inanimate machines.

“Elvis, answer Koritt’s questions,” Ty grinned.

“Very well,” Elvis sighed. “The Mission parameters are for the original crew to locate Koritt Diviak and retrieve the U-10. Once the U-10 is recovered, eliminate Diviak and destroy the planet along with all its inhabitants.”

“Your instructions specify Koritt Diviak is to be killed?” Ty asked.

“Correct.”

Koritt’s ear tentacles stiffened, and his color dulled. Ty saw the reaction and guessed it meant the creature was surprised.

“Once the planet is destroyed, do you have any hidden directives?” Koritt asked.

“Yes; however, those instructions are classified ‘eyes only’ to Bureaucrat level and above,” Elvis replied.

Koritt slammed his fist on the console in frustration.

“I don’t understand,” Hashtag said. “Why does Earth have to be destroyed? We haven’t done anything.”

“Your species is an illegal experiment involving augmented intelligence,” Koritt replied. “You shouldn’t exist. The goal of the Corporation is to cover up all evidence of its involvement by destroying you.”

“What about the secret instructions?” Wraith asked.

Koritt pondered her question. There was only one explanation that made sense.

“I suspect the unknown directive is for this ship to destroy itself and the rescue team once its mission is fulfilled. No one will ever suspect a violation of the law in such a remote area of the galaxy. No witnesses will exist. All loose ends will be tied in a neat package. The entities controlling the Corporation will no longer be exposed to danger.”

“You didn’t realize your assignment was one-way,” Ty said.

“I have been a faithful and hardworking employee of the Corporation for a long time,” Koritt replied. “I’m surprised my superiors would discard me like a piece of garbage for their own protection.”

“Hold that thought,” Ty said. “Elvis, can you access the comm units being worn by the American soldiers?”

“Yes.”

“Broadcast my voice,” Ty ordered. “If there is a response, let me hear it.”

“Colonel Hubert. This is Lieutenant Ty Lavender. All Insurgent fighters have been eliminated. My Orion Squad is in control of the area. Prepare for Evac.”

There was silence for a moment, and then Colonel Hubert said, “You sound like Ty Lavender, but the only thing he could fly is a kite. Besides, there’s no way anyone could land a fixed-wing aircraft in this canyon, and I don’t hear a helicopter.”

“Elvis, turn off the invisibility cloak and land,” Ty ordered. “Everyone. Get back into your desert gear. These blue-sequined outfits might get us shot. All our buddies out there are nervous, and the sudden appearance of an alien spaceship won’t help.”

Hashtag tried to get out of the pilot’s chair but Ty said, “Someone has to stay on board to maintain control over the ship. That’s you. Keep monitoring our surroundings. I don’t want any Insurgent interference.”

“Will do. Maybe Elvis has some flight training simulations I can practice,” Hashtag grinned.