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“Shut up, Brock,” Lt. Osaka said.
Brock fell to his knees, gripping the General’s pants leg. “You’ve got to separate me from them.
They’ll kill me to keep me quiet. They don’t want you to know what I know.”
“Remove him,” said the general. “Now, is there anyone else here that might want to talk? It will go
much easier on you if you cooperate.”
“Let us return to our ship and we’ll leave,” Lt. Osaka said.
“Your ship has been destroyed,” the General said.
“Damn you…” Cadet Williams said. The officers held him back.
“Please, I didn’t destroy your ship. I wanted to capture it,” Hammon said. “We want warp
technology. We were willing to do it the easy way, steal it, but your Captain Garcia set the self destruct
sequence. So, now, we have to do it the hard way. And you’re not going to like the hard way.” “Captain Garcia?” Williams asked.
“We can’t give you technology,” Lt. Osaka said, ignoring the ‘Captain Garcia’ remark. “We have a
law that forbids us from sharing technology with underdeveloped cultures. We’re not allowed to influence
how your society develops.”
“Yeah, right. What do you take me for? A fool? Well, we have a law that allows us to torture and
execute alien invaders,” Hammon said. “So, if you don’t want to cooperate, we’ll find alternative methods to
getting what we want. Guards?”
General Hammon exited the room, followed by the guards. The door shut behind them. “Do you think he’s telling us the truth?” Lt. Simmons asked.
“About what? Torturing us or that Captain Garcia blew the ship up?” Lt. Osaka asked, making a fist. “They’re quite capable of torturing us,” Counselor Lester agreed. “They will have no qualms about
it.”
“Well, if all they want is warp drive, maybe we should give it to them,” Williams said. “They’re close
to getting it anyway, from what I understand.”
“You give it to them and you will have signed our death certificate,” Osaka said. “And it won’t stop there. Warp technology is just the starting point. They’re going to want more
concessions and we’re bargaining tools,” Lester said. “Provided there is any one of us left when Star Fleet
arrives to bargain for us.”
CHAPTER ELEVEN
While visiting a local mall, invisible Brittney, under the guidance of Garcia, ‘lifted’ some clothes for
him to better blend into society. She brought him loafers, Kaki pants, a cotton shirt, a black leather jacket, and
a pair of mirrored sunglasses to the restroom where he was hiding in a stall. She stole a back pack to keep his
uniform in, since he didn’t want to leave it. She also brought him a “cell” phone. Using the tricorder on the
HROV, he reprogrammed the cell so that he could access it with his implant, and so that they could remain in
touch with Britney using the local cell phone and wireless internet network. The map of the network
suggested that he and the HROV could be on opposite sides of the planets and still communicate in real time
and no one would ever be the wiser.
“Are the glasses necessary?” Garcia asked.
“Absolutely,” Brittney said, pinching the tag off. She remained invisible to everyone but him. “You
look wonderful.”
“Why thank you,” Garcia said. As they exited the mall, he went up to an ATM machine and held his
backpack open to the money slot. Using his implant, via HROV’s tricorder, he accessed the ATM machine
and instructed it to empty its contents into his pack. He walked away with forty seven thousand dollars. The
sounds of helicopters in a search pattern resounded in the late afternoon sky. The Iotians were no doubt
expecting to find his body.
Without a parting farewell, he and Brittney parted ways. She went down the stairs to the metro line,
destination and protocols programmed in. She would remain invisible and report back to him periodically
concerning her progress. He could also check in on her at any time and override whatever she was doing.
While she headed off on her mission, he crossed the street and bought a motorcycle with a portion of the cash
he had “borrowed,” so that he could be off on his own mission: to reunite himself with his friends and take
care of Niki until they were rescued.
Night brought with it a cool breeze as Garcia descended the mountain into the desert valley below. A
shooting star zipped across the heavens. The sky was full of stars which defined the horizon for him, with the
bike’s light illuminating just enough of the dark road for him to navigate. A song trespassed upon his mind,
“On a dark desert highway, cool wind in my hair, the warm smell of colitas, rising up through the air…” and
he wondered, what the hell are colitas? Without warning, the light on his bike went out and the bike’s engine
died. He coasted to the side of the road. When the bike refused to start and he was unable to trace the source
of the problem, he gathered his pack and was about to walk away. Suddenly, he was illuminated from above. Garcia looked up into the light, shielding his eyes trying to make out what it was that hovered above
him. It wasn’t a helicopter, of that much he was sure.
“Are you one of us?” Garcia asked. He brought his badge out of his pocket and held it up to his
mouth. “Garcia to unidentified craft. Are you Star Fleet?”
Garcia felt a moment of vertigo as the light around him grew brighter until it was as if he were
standing in light. All around him was blinding white, even the floor. He found himself unable to move. Had
he been transported? he asked himself, feeling strangely groggy.
A female, wearing a toga and gold bands around her arms, stepped up to him, smiling enthusiastically.
“Tammas Garcia,” she said, kissing him. “DNA print confirmed, definitely Tammas. And not a copy.” Garcia tried to move, tried to communicate.
“Shh, don’t resist,” she said. “It’ll just make it harder on you. Why are you here? You aren’t
considering violating your prime directive and interfering with the Iotian culture, are you? Of course you are.
It’s in your nature to meddle. I wonder if this is a tangent that Hades expected, or just mere chance. So many
permutations. Either way, you’re in his domain and I can’t free you at this juncture. Not without giving away
my own game.”
She touched his face, musing silently. “But perhaps I can help you resist the programming. They’ll
use you for their own purposes, you know. No matter what you do, it will serve them,” she said. She put her
face against his and whispered in his ear. “My name is Harmonia. You can make a difference here. You have
my support, my love, and my songs. Save the Iotians, if you can. My light shines through you. Good luck,
Tammas.”
Harmonia kissed him, lingering for only a moment before backing up. “You best take him to Hades
now, before he suspects I am meddling again. Meddling melody. How fun is this?”
Garcia felt himself lifted and his body turned horizontal. Shadows approached him and they inserted
probes into his nose and mouth, but he couldn’t protest or even scream. It took all of his energy just to remain
conscious. Every now and then he imagined he saw an oval face with dark, dreadful eyes, but he quickly
forced himself to think of other things. He forced himself to think of Harmonia and the beauty of her voice
and face instead. She had golden hair, flowing as if in a summer breeze, her eyes, shining turquoise. Garcia managed to turn his head. What he saw made him weep from fear and joy. It was McCoy! A
younger McCoy, but it was definitely McCoy
Two orbs of light flew in and two men appeared over top the orbs, first as holograms, and then solid, in
a manner not unsimilar to a transporter. They were perfect specimens of the human figure, as if Micahael
Angelo had carved them out of stone. And they were wearing togas, just as the female apparition who had
greeted him had been.
“Hades, I asked for a McCoy piece. This is not a McCoy piece, it’s a Kelley piece,” one of them
complained.
“McCoy piece or Kelley piece, it’s all the same genetically,” Hades responded. “I should know. I
cultivated this line myself.”
“But I paid you for the last of the McCoy pieces to finish my collection,” the other argued. “You said
you could provide me a copy before the McCoy piece left the space time continuum, and now that it has, I
want my piece.”
“And I intend to give it to you, Dionysus. The personality matrix for the last of the McCoy piece
resides in this vessel here,” Hades said. “I intend to transfer it to the Kelley piece.”
“But the Kelley piece is obviously too young to be the last of the McCoy piece,” Dionysus lamented.
“It won’t fit the collection.”
Hades lifted a hand and the “Kelley” piece yelled. His back arched off the table it was on, his hair and
fingernails grew, and his skin grew more wrinkled before their eyes. He slumped into sleep. “Now, is that
better?” Hades asked. “The vessel is now aged to match that of the McCoy piece before he departed the
space time continuum.”
“Will the piece still carry the Kelley personality?” Dionysus asked.
“The McCoy personality matrix will be dominant,” Hades assured him. “You won’t notice a thing.” Hades clapped his hands and his minions fell to work. “Quickly, now. Transfer the McCoy matrix to
the Kelley piece so we can return the Garcia piece to the wild.”
A person appeared, accompanied by a rolling crack of thunder. “You have violated the rule structure.
We agreed there would be no more contact with societies that have warp technology.”
“Ah, Apollo, it’s so nice to see you again,” Hades said.
“You had no right to capture him,” Apollo said.
“He was on Iotia and they don’t have warp technology,” Hades said. “That makes him fair game.” “A technicality and you know it,” Apollo said.
“I think someone is still upset from the last time he encountered humans,” Dionysus laughed. “What’s
wrong? Still got a little Kirk stuck in your craw?”
“I will go to Zeus on this,” Apollo said, stepping up to Hades.
“Go right ahead,” Hades said. “The Iotia Experiment is mine and I can play it however I see fit. You
wasted your turns on frivolous pursuits. Who cares if they want us or love us? You’ve always had this
tendency towards anthropomorphizing your pets. All I want to know are the results to my statistical analysis. I
have not violated the rule structure, but I’ll blow the whole thing up rather than see you interfere with Iotia
any further.”
“All I care about is that you follow the rules,” Apollo said. “Cultures that have developed warp
technology are off limits.”
“That wouldn’t even be a rule if you hadn’t reached out with your hand and grabbed a starship!” Hades
protested.
“Irrelevant, I want him returned immediately,” Apollo said.
“Please, you don’t give a damn about rules as long as you get your way. You lost your bet a hundred
years ago. Now get out of my domain before I smote you,” Hades said.
Apollo raised his arm and flipped his wrist in a sign of contempt. He vanished in a dissipation of light
that was more show than necessary. A small glowing orb remained, and it zipped off, disappearing through a
door.
Dionysus laughed. “How much for a copy of the Garcia piece?”
“I can only make one copy at this juncture and I’m keeping it,” Hades said. “I have to return the other
to the playing field or take on a penalty.”
“Are you giving it a mission?” Dionysus asked.
“Garcia? Of course. I have to do something to counter Apollo’s interference on Iotia. He thinks I
don’t know what he did, but I know,” Hades said.
“Are you sure you won’t part with the Garcia piece? I’ll trade you a Seven of Nine piece for it,”
Dionysus said. “Everyone wants a Seven of Nine Piece.”
“No, everyone wants a piece of Seven of Nine. Watch your semantics,” Hades said. “Besides, your
copy of Seven is a future Seven. I prefer the pre-Voyager Seven.”
“I’ll throw in a Locutus of Borg,” Dionysus said, swirling a drink conjured out of thin air. “And how, pray tell, did you acquire a Locutus of Borg piece with out violating the rule structure?”
Hades asked.
Dionysus gave an evil grin. “I made a copy of it while it was being transported from the Borg ship to
the Enterprise. Technically, copying energy patterns in a transporter energy wave does not violate the rule
structure. How did you think I acquired my Seven of Nine?”
“I wasn’t going to ask,” Hades said, mulling it over. “Very well. I will trade you my copy of the
Garcia piece for the Seven of Nine and Locutus of Borg pieces. Bring the two of them to a storage cell.” “Wonderful. See you in a few,” Dionysus said, and vanished in a flourish of energy. Hades caressed Garcia’s head. “I was hoping to do much more with you, but this is a good trade.
Minions?! Make a copy, and insert the mission objectives into the one you’re returning to the Iotia playing
field. And let’s try not to get it backwards this time, alright. The other goes to the trading floor.” “Wait,” Garica managed to say.
Hades turned back to him, amused. “You are really something else. I should have done more Kelvan
experiments.”
“Why?” Garcia struggled.
“Why? To learn and understand,” Hades said. “Metaphor. Computer programs and holodeck
adventures. Your biological nature is to us what your computer programs and holodeck creations are to you.
You are merely interesting phenomena and simulations that we can develop and use to help better understand
this thing called life.”
“We are people. This is not right,” Garcia said.
Hades laughed. “Yes, yes, we are also trying to understand better this moral dilemma associated with
the programming. That’s why there are rule structures in place. Zeus is the keeper of the rules and ensures
that we play within the boundaries of that structure. Our rule structures are comparable to your Prime
Directive. You can understand this. And, contrary to what you interpret Apollo’s words to mean, I am
operating within the boundaries of my prime directive.”
“There can be no justice as long as rules are absolute!” Garcia adapted a quote.
Hades laughed. “Ah, yes, the Picard assertion. Nicely played, but irrelevant at this juncture. Not
applicable to this situation. Beside, in any given scenario, the annihilation imperative, which seems to be
inherent in human DNA, trumps the Picard assertion.”
“But why destroy worlds?” Garcia asked.
“We don’t destroy worlds. You destroy worlds. We only set the stage and watch it play out and
record the data,” Hades said. “When the playing field is destroyed, we will begin again somewhere new.
We’ll transplant the most endearing and provocative pieces in order to see how the game develops under
different circumstance. You should be happy to learn that no matter what happens, you will be preserved. You are a collector’s item, very endearing and provocative. We will bring you back as many times as there
are scenarios that we can imagine to place you in.”
“Let the Iotian people go,” Garcia begged.
“Ah, the Moses gambit,” Hades said. “Also not applicable to this scenario. Further, we have not been
able to deflect the tangent initiated by the Horizon incident. Character insertion has failed to deviate the
outcome to any significant degree. We predict a total social implosion within three to twelve months. It’s
very interesting, especially knowing that you may be the catalyst that brings the final scenario into play. Isn’t
that nice to know? Not that you’ll remember. That might adversely influence the game. Against the rule
structure. It’s been delightful meeting, you, Jude. Love your game. But I got to go. The amount of data I’ve
collected needing to be analyzed just keeps growing in leaps and bounds. I’m sure we’ll meet again, though.” Hades disappeared. Shadows carried McCoy away and then they returned for Garcia. He felt himself
drawn along, powerless to resist, through corridors, up elevators, down corridors, through openings, and
finally stored in a room. The lights dimmed, the shadows departed, and he found himself alone, paralyzed but
aware. At least, partially aware. He felt himself drift in and out of consciousness, unable to even access his
implant to discern the passage of time. Mentally struggling was proving useless, so he calmed his mind,
focusing, reaching out with his senses in an effort to understand his prison better. He was basically trying to
see the confines of his room without light and without the ability to turn his head. It was difficult not to fill in
the emptiness with imagination. All that was left him was smell and temperature and fantasy, and he could not
allow himself that luxury for fear that he would be lost. He had to stay focused on whatever sensations he
could actually perceive.
“How is it you are able to resist the paralysis pheromones so easily?”
Had he not been immobilized, Garcia would have jumped. “Hello?” he tried to speak. “You are capable of communicating without the need of an audio component?”
“Yes,” Garcia said. “Who are you?”
Garcia was answered with a smell. It was so specific of a smell that he could spell the chemical
formula. Though he could not reproduce the smell biologically, or pronounce it, he could mirror it with an
abstract thought.
“You are not human.”
“I am a Kelvan human hybrid,” Garcia said, able to translate the Kevlan word into a memory of a
smell, as he was familiar with the chemical messengers of his own species.
“I am familiar with this species. Why have you chosen to limit yourself in human form? The Kelvan
form is far superior to the one you are now residing in.”
Garcia puzzled over this. “I don’t understand.”
“The human’s ability to abstract seems to be mostly limited to the ability to form and utter words,
mixed with physical gestures. Since there are only so many sounds, combinations of sounds, and so many
gestures that one can string together to form an abstract, your ability to communicate is therefore limited.
Using chemical formulas to represent an alpabet and abstractions is more efficient. Why have you chosen this
form?”
“This form was chosen for me. Can you free me?” Garcia said.
“From your form or your confinement?”
“From my confinement,” Garcia clarified.
After a time of no response, and no change in his condition, Garcia asked his question again. “Will
yo