Chapter 10: Allied Forces
Control Center. . .
Gabriel activated the intercom for the entire station. "Greetings. At o-nine-hundred hours tomorrow, representatives from each group of people will be gathering in the conference room and our discussion can be viewed live on Channel 7."
Once the intercom was deactivated, Dexter looked at the computerized boy with curiosity. "What is the purpose of such a gathering?"
"It has many purposes," Gabriel replied, "I need an educated estimation of our numbers, I also need to make sure several points that I have are understood, and afterwards, I need to see how many will still be willing to be a part of the Allied Forces."
"I see," Dexter and Nathan said in unison, unintentionally. They exchanged inquiring glances.
Nathan spoke up, "Will we"—he pointed to himself then Dexter—"be representing the recruits from our 'groups?'"
"No you two will be beside me," he shook his head. "I will not be representing my group—instead I'll be representing the Allied Forces."
"I thought that was Ms. Aral's duty," Dexter observed.
He shook his head. "She's representing the group I would have. Her great-grandmother was basically the founder of the Robo Team so she receives the honor of representing them."
"Do we represent groups according to planet, or according to team?" Nathan asked.
"Preferably team," Gabriel answered, "But if there is such a miscellaneous group from one particular planet, then you represent that group according to their home planet."
Dexter assumed that the recruits from Earth fell under that category without question.
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Mess Hall. . .
Once the announcement was over, Lee glanced to Ben. "Who do you think is gonna be representative of the Earth recruits?"
Ben mused, pushing an alien species of beans on his plate with his fork. "Dexter, most likely. But if he can't or won't, then probably myself."
"Second in command, are you?" he asked, respect in his voice.
Ben nodded and grinned, "Yeah—something like that. What about the Lev'n recruits?"
"Oh, we're probably gonna have several representatives," Lee said, "There are too many recruits to represent with simply one. The Meta-Force"—Ben recognized the name for Lee had already mentioned that he was a part of that team—"will either be represented by Sparkwire or Nightshade."
The wielder of the Omnitrix had met so many people recently; it was hard to keep up with their names. So he questioned further. "Who are they?"
"Well, Nightshade is the brawns—Jessica Graham," Lee replied, "Sparky is the brains—Nathan Conwell."
The name was familiar. Ben wracked his brain to remember where he had heard the name Nathan Conwell. "Oh—I met Nathan in the control center."
"How'd you manage to sneak in there?" Lee asked, "I thought only super geniuses were allowed to go in there."
"I escorted Dexter."
The mutant nodded, rotating his drinking glass on his fingers. "I have a feeling quite a few tempers are gonna spark during that meeting. If Jack Fross is representing the Nega-Force, I have a feeling Jess would leap over the table and beat his face in."
A flash of amusement crossed through Ben's eyes. "What for?"
"Well, not only is the Meta-Force and the Nega-Force opposing forces on Lev'n," he started, "But Jessica has some . . . personal issues with him."
"I can imagine many people will have personal issues with others during that assembly," Ben noted, "I just hope we don't have a war inside Headquarters."
Lee let out a bark of laughter. He rose his glass. "To the Allied Forces."
Ben raised his as well. "The Allied Forces."
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Hangar Deck B-47. . .
"I ain't ever been one for politics," Ray remarked, "but it looks like Gray and I will be representing the Robo Kids."
"Yay for you," Don smirked from underneath the broken starglider Horatio was sitting atop. "Wire cutters."
The redheaded ace of a pilot rummaged through the toolbox beside him, pulled out a pair of wire cutters and tossed them down to Donavan.
"Thanks," he said, picking them up. "Tyner will probably represent all of the Gamma Agency."
"All of 'em?" Ray asked, "Y'mean none of the Gamma Agency stayed behind or anything?"
"Not one," Don replied, "Any of the Robo Kids stay back in the future?"
Horatio shrugged and sighed, "Just our computer."
"I'll never understand you Robos and your computers," the pilot below laughed as he clipped a few wires, "What's yours called—G8?"
"G7 the 2nd actually," Ray corrected.
"I was close."
Horatio lay back on the roof of the cockpit and folded his hands behind his head. "Eh, whatever."
"What's wrong with you?" Don asked.
"Nothing," he sighed, "Just thinking about who else we left behind."
The pilot seemed to understand as he picked up a wrench beside him. "The bad guy?"
"Bad guys."
Donavan grimaced. "G7 the 2nd can handle it, right?"
"Sure hope so," Ray said, "Otherwise, the Robo Kids are going back to a broken home."
Placing two different, snipped wires close to each other to get a few sparks out of them, Donavan felt sorry for his friend. "No worries, Ray. I'm sure if G7 the 2nd's anything like the original the 'e can handle it."
"Mm."
Silence echoed off the walls, and the brunette under the starglider tried to simply focus on repaired the starglider. But his mind kept wandering, thinking about what Ray's home might look like whenever he went back—if he went back.
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The Medical Facilities. . .
The odd thing about the Stellar Twins was that they seemed to think about the same things at the same time when they weren't together. Grayson's memory was taunted by the smug, green face of Toxin and the army of the Toxic Society behind him. G7 the 2nd would not be able to handle so many numbers if Toxin planned to attack while the Robo Kids were gone.
"Grayson, are you having a bit of trouble focusing?" Dr. Meriwether demanded. "Because we don't have room for that here."
He shook his head quickly and reentered reality.
"Now as I was saying, I would like you to be in charge of Professor Utonium," she said. "Help him find his way around here and make sure he knows what he's doing in this laboratory."
Grayson locked eyes with the slightly younger girl. "Understood, Doctor."
"Good." She looked up to the tall professor. "I'm leaving you with my most trusted paramedic, is that understood? Get him killed, and I will be forced to take action." The professor couldn't hide the humor in his eyes as she looked back to her 'most trusted paramedic. "If you need me, I'll be working on testing the medicines in the room several doors down."
Angel turned on her heal and marched towards the door. She spared a final glance at the sixteen-year-old. "And Grayson-?"
"Yes?"
"Don't need me."
With that, she left. Grayson ran his hand through his thick, ginger-blonde hair and let out a sigh that held many mixed emotions.
"Charming," the professor noted.
"Isn't she?" Grayson concurred with equal sarcasm. He shook his head. "Well, Professor, do you have anything specific that you need me to go over?"
"Not at the moment," he admitted.
Grayson looked him in the eye. "Dr. Meriwether familiarized you with the medicines and medical instruments in this laboratory."
He nodded.
"She informed you of the ranks in this particular facility."
"Yes," he replied, "She's first in command, your second, and Circuit is third. Everyone else is not ranked, but certainly of lower authority."
"She told you that the Gamma Agency's medical facilities are on the other side of this station."
"And not to be associated with. Does she have a rivalry with them by chance?"
Grayson shook his head, "No, but she doesn't believe that they were educated enough in the medical field to be considered doctors and nurses of the Gamma Agency. . . She showed you where the mind wiping equipment was."
Patrick Utonium's eyes noticeably widened, "Mind wiping equipment? The Dr. Meriwether is permitted to use that?"
"Luckily no," Grayson allowed a tired smile to appear on his face. "Since Angel has apparently shown you around the laboratory already, I suppose I ought to show you the places outside the med lab. This is my break."
"Oh-! Am I taking away from your break?"
Grayson dismissed the statement with a wave of his hand. "No, no, no. My break just started. I have a hover car parked out front; is there any particular place you would like to view."
"I'm not familiar enough with this station to be able to answer that question."
The boy's hand fell on the beeper attached to his slacks as he thought. Then it dawned on him. "I have the perfect place in mind."
Professor Utonium followed him out of the hall that led to various divisions in the medical facilities and into an indoor parking lot. The cars were hovering and without wheels. None of them had a roof either. Grayson led the professor to a hover car that appeared to be plated with mercury, though that was impossible. It had a single glass windshield and two rows of seats. It was compact enough to fit down the halls, still giving people room to go around him, and roomy enough to be comfortable inside.
As Grayson sat himself in the driver's seat, the professor went around to be seated beside him. He appeared a wee bit nervous, and the paramedic noted.
"Don't worry, Professor, I do have a driver's license."
The professor was not worried of his abilities to drive the hover car but simply on edge about the hover car itself. He had never laid eyes on such a piece of machinery, and it was of course a bit nerve wracking to be seated inside one for the very first time.
Once Grayson had pulled out of the parking lot and was making his way down the wide halls, Professor Utonium quizzed, "Where exactly are we going?"
"You'll see."
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Top floor of the space station
And he did.
Professor Utonium's spine stiffened in awe. It was beautiful.
The uppermost level of the station (which was trillions and trillions and trillions of miles wide and doubled long) was a civilization. Trees, grass, lakes, houses, and anything else you could imagine. The ceiling was made of thick glass to give the citizens a view of space and panels running on some sort of alien alternative power source lit the area.
Grayson leaned on the balustrade of the balcony and looked down below. His hover car was parked at the entrance of what led into the railed ledge.
"It—It's amazing," the professor managed.
The boy smiled slightly. "Yes, it is beautiful, isn't it?"
"Magnificent," Utonium concurred.
The professor neared the railing to get a better view.
As he did so, Grayson sighed. "Beautiful, it may be, but there is a sad story behind it."
"What do you mean?" Patrick Utonium questioned. The perplexity plain on his face.
"This area houses those whose planets could not withstand the Fusion attacks. Or at least those whose citizens managed to escape. Earth and Lev'n were not the only planets to be attack by the Fuse, but they were the only to survive."
The professor felt his heart reach out to those who lived in the huge, simulated nation. It was horrid to imagine what they must have gone through, family they must have lost. If these were the only survivors of Fusion attacks across the galaxy, then things were extremely bleak. Yes, it looked like multitudes from where the professor stood, but there were no where near enough to fill several planets.
"I come here to remind me of what I'm fighting for," Grayson said, "When I return home, I want it to be as I left it. I don't want a single trace of these wretched Fusions on Astervoid, and I'm positive my brother's feelings are mutual."
Professor Utonium felt sudden motivation. He wanted the same. Not a trace of Fusion Matter in Townsville. Not even the smallest of bits.
Sure this place was beautiful and obviously amazing advancements in technology, but Professor Utonium did not plan on living in something along the lines of this. After this war, he was going home. And he was going to bring his three daughters home with him. Nothing would become of his girls or his home he was still able to prevent it.
"Will these people fight?" he asked.
"Those who are able," came the simple reply. "Many are injured. Some will never recuperate. Others it will take years to gather their wits."
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0900 hours, Assembly Chamber. . .
The table was huge, beyond all belief. Sure it was only a bit wider than the halls of the Allied Forces of Galaxy Beta's Headquarters, but it was several hundred yards in length. Gabriel Sevin stood tall and unmoving at the head of the table, Dexter and Nathan at his side. Through his abnormally thick lenses, Nathan's hazy brown eyes darted around the room at the multitude of representatives.
Dexter was finding it hard to believe that the teams and groups these people, mainly teenagers, were representing did not even make up half of the recruits in the huge space station they stood in. Gabriel was representing the original group of the Allied Forces. The group that had gathered to monitor the Fusion Menace as months passed and they gradually clicked into place around Galaxy Beta. The minority of the representatives were aliens of all shapes, sizes and colors. But mainly, there were humans, or humanoids. There were quite a many adult military general that appeared to lead armies of their own, which could prove very beneficial for the Allied Forces if they agreed to help.
The redheaded scientist's reaction was not like Nathan's shy and astonished reaction. He stood firm like Gabriel. Spine as straight as a metal rod, face emotionless and unreadable. His gaze slowly looked from face to face gathered around the unrealistically large table. He discovered a familiar face.
Ben Tennyson cocked his grin and raised his eyebrows in a silent, 'Hey, Dex, how've you been?'
Dexter gave a slight nod to show that he had seen his friend, but his expression remained unchanged. This was business. And there was no room for childishness.
Gabriel raised his grey gloved hand and silenced the wave of whispers that had rushed through. "Thank you all for attending. As most all of you know, I am Gabriel Sevin, the computer that runs this space station you're standing in. I called forth this meeting to get several points across."
There was another rush of whispers, and he balled his raised hand into a fist. Several noted this and they elbowed those around them to shut them up.
"What is going on?—you ask," he said, "The Fusion Mass is what is going on. Planets of green substance that Fuse together with whatever they come in contact with and corrupt it are positioned all over the border of Galaxy Beta."
Another wave, quickly silenced by his sharp bronze glare.
"What are they doing?" he spoke their thoughts aloud. "Each and every one of them are on a collision course with each other at the very center of Galaxy Beta which just so happens to be the center of the universe and where this station is located. By the time the multitudes of Fusion Planets collide, every single planet in Galaxy Beta will have merged with the Fusion Mass and so will have this station. The Fusion Mass will be so gargantuan it will be the size of seventy thousand solar systems and will have a gravitational pull so strong that it drags every object in the universe, every star, every planet, every speck of dust into it. Mass extinction."
There was a flood of gasps that crashed down upon the table.
Gabriel raised his voice that was already being broadcasted over the speakers hanging from the ceiling. "That is why we must fight. To prevent the Fusions from taking over the universe and slaughtering us all! I must know if you all plan to offer as much services as physically possible until you are unable. I know the odds seem impossible, but you must trust that I can supply you with anything you may need. Provisions, weapons, and the ultimate weapon that will destroy these Fusions. I am currently constructing this ultimate weapon, and it will soon be ready to end the Fusion Mass's reign of terror."
Their reaction was unsettling. There were no longer whispers or gasped, but voices raised some in protest, some in confusion, and some in utmost refusal. The roar of the crowd was becoming unbearable. Dexter could image how mortifying it could have been for many to know that this was being broadcasted live throughout the space station.
A series of loud blaster fire caught everyone's attention. Everyone was soon seated, hoping to prevent a massacre. Dexter recognized the sixteen-year-old standing on top of the long table as one of the Stellar Twins he had been hearing much about. The boy's blaster was drawn from the holster on his belt and pointed at the ceiling, the barrel smoking. His lightly tanned face was plainly irritated.
"Will you people shut up?" he demanded.
The people shut up.
The Stellar Twins were rather famous throughout Galaxy Beta, particularly this one. Horatio Isaac Stellar was known for the couple years he had spent in the black market, bounty hunting, smuggling, and other such business from ages twelve through fourteen. He was a very dangerous young man to put it bluntly. A bit laid back nowadays was he, but that did not mean that he couldn't turn back to the dangerous teen he used to be.
"Now I don't know a thing about stinkin' diplomacy, but I do know a thing or two about stuff like this," he said, holstering the blaster but keeping his hand resting on it, "G7's right. We hafta fight! If we don't, it's just like saying, 'I wanna be killed!'"
No waves of whispers. Just astounded stares and gaping mouths.
"Now I'm gonna fight till there ain't any breath left in this body," he said, "And if I die, I have a feelin' it'll be 'cause I got shot down by some stinkin' Fusion. But if it's 'cause you people wouldn't stand up beside me and fight, I'm gonna make sure your eternal rest isn't gonna be so restful 'cause I'm gonna be eternally pissed! Do I make myself clear?"
After a silent pause in which there was no movement, many slowly nodded.
"Alright, then," he smirked. "Now, I'm gonna go out there and fight to the bloody end!"—he threw his fist in the air—"Who's with me?"
Shouts were heard as other fists were thrown into the air in a unanimous huzza.
Horatio looked to Gabriel. "Well, G, you got yourself an army."
Gabriel permitted a small smile to form at the corner of his lips. He closed his eyes and gave a short nod of approval and thanks. Dexter noted that even Grayson Stellar looked at his brother with a new respect.
During the commotion, Nathan and Dexter exchanged glances. The redheaded, young scientist's expression read, 'What on Earth just happened?' while at the same time read, 'Is this really how they solve things here?'
Amused, Nathan smiled and shrugged.
Dexter sighed and looked back to the redheaded boy who had settled the negotiations. He had to admit, though the ace of a pilot operated on gut-instinct and sudden impulses, that Horatio had done quite an excellent job at winning the crowd. Thoughts wandered into the scientist's large mind. Were there enough? Were all their efforts going to be in vain? What was this weapon Gabriel had spoke of? He had never mentioned anything about an ultimate weapon of sorts to neither he nor Nathan. What next?
I believe this is a good place to say . . .
THE END!
Don't worry, there will be continuations of this story under the series title of Galactic Fuse. You are guaranteed! If you want any particular life stories of any of these characters (instances in their past/present/future) or want to request a specific continuation to elaborate on, feel free to ask in your reviews!