Chapter 11
Zoltar stared at the computer screen, fascinated. He could hardly believe how much information was available to anyone who simply looked for it, on the Federation Internet. Certainly, there were no secrets of Galaxy Security, but the wealth of data available on almost any other subject was simply amazing!
He had found something called a 'search engine'… what a marvelous invention! Such things did not exist on Spectra. The Luminous One had declared that information was to be distributed on a 'need to know' basis only, and all news and data sources were regulated by the State. Only appropriate materials were found in schools, and only approved scientific researchers had the right to use larger databases. Why, even as ruler of Spectra, Zoltar did not have access to all information sources. That was for the Luminous One only. The data Zoltar was able to obtain was poorly organized, so that only someone who knew what they were looking for (and exactly where to find it) could read it.
In comparison, this freedom of information on the Earth was most refreshing.
Thanks to this wonderful Internet, Zoltar had been able to research most of the topics on his list. He now knew that 'ping pong' had nothing to do with odors, but was some kind of game played on a green table (such as the one he had seen in the 'Ready Room') with a white ball and two paddles. Why, in some parts of Earth it was a spectator sport, drawing large crowds for giant tournaments to determine which players were best.
Zoltar had found many descriptions of Spaceburgers, as well as multiple recipes and cooking suggestions for making the most delicious varieties. He had also discovered ratings from individual people, stating their likes and dislikes about Spaceburgers provided by various restaurants around the planet. It was truly amazing, the types of information that could be obtained. Zoltar had spent two hours researching this one topic alone.
The information Zoltar had obtained on Child Labor Laws was somewhat more vague. Apparently such laws differed, depending where one was located on the planet, but they all agreed that children should not work without pay, or for long hours, or under arduous conditions. Zoltar was certain that the G-Force Team violated every one of these standards, but was as yet unable to prove it, partly because he did not know the exact ages of everyone on the team.
He did, however, know the age of the Commander. He had apparently just turned nineteen a month before, according to one of the cards in his leather pouch. The card stated that the Eagle was licensed to operate a personal transport vehicle, although the one that he owned barely qualified as such, in Zoltar's mind.
The one thing he had been unable to discover anything about was 'Panty Alerts'. Zoltar supposed that this was some top secret defensive strategy of Galaxy Security's, which explained why it was unheard of on the general Internet.
The sun was beginning to rise, and Zoltar had not had any sleep. His head was aching, and he rubbed at the source of the pain: a spot at the base of his skull, on the back of his head, beneath his hair. He supposed that he should get some rest. He was so tired that he fell into bed, clothes and all.
However, he had barely been asleep for a couple of hours when he was awoken by an unfamiliar beeping sound.
Zoltar looked around frantically for a couple of minutes before he realized that the noise was coming from his left wrist. His G-Force bracelet was flashing, a beep emanating with every blink of the white light.
Cautiously, Zoltar touched the golden plate in the middle of the bracelet.
"Mark, where are you? I've been trying to contact you for two minutes!" came an angry voice.
"Uh… sorry." Zoltar's head was fuzzy, and his headache was stronger than ever. "I was asleep…"
"I need to see you in my office right away." the voice stated.
"Where?" Zoltar yawned. He could barely concentrate on what was being said. "Who is this?"
"This is Chief Anderson!" the voice was angry now, and Zoltar began to recognize the cold fury it contained. "I do not appreciate your sense of humor, Commander. Be at my office in one hour!"
The light on the bracelet went out, and there was silence.
If there was one thing Zoltar understood, it was the importance of following orders from a superior. Of course, on Spectra the only superior he had was the Luminous One, and more often than not, Zoltar simply did as he pleased. But if he wanted to maintain the pretense that he was the G-Force Commander, he knew he would have to obey the summons.
As quickly as he could, Zoltar raced out to the ancient vehicle he had parked outside, frantically scanning the map it contained. Fortunately, he had been paying some attention the previous day when Jason had driven him 'home', and he was able to use those memories to make his way back to the parking area for Center Neptune, with only three wrong turns. From there, he boarded a submarine bound for the base, and made it to Chief Anderson's office (asking a bewildered secretary for directions) with barely a second to spare.
Chief Anderson looked at the bedraggled, unkempt youth, and wondered what the Commander had really been doing. He looked as if he had barely slept, and had rolled out of bed only seconds before entering his office. Additionally, he smelled as if he hadn't bathed in days. The Chief was far from impressed.
"I wanted to discuss the latest Intelligence Reports with you, Mark." Anderson said coldly, gesturing to a hard chair in front of his desk. Zoltar sat, feeling like a recalcitrant schoolboy.
However, his ears perked up at the mention of Intelligence Reports. This was interesting! He was eager to see how much data the Federation had been able to gather on Spectra.
However, the Chief barely mentioned Spectra. Instead, he droned on and on about various political factions, new laws enacted on Federation planets, and various ambassadors to different worlds. The only mention of Spectra was to note that the Empire's forces had not been heard from since the previous day's destruction of the Astricon Base.
The mundane nature of the information, combined with the Chief's monotone and a serious lack of sleep, made it difficult for Zoltar to keep his eyes open. If only he could have a couple of hours of sleep… Zoltar's headache was raging now, and he was having a difficult time dealing with the pain he was experiencing.
"Am I keeping you up, Commander?" Anderson asked the youth in a disgusted tone.
"No… Sir." Zoltar mumbled. What had the Chief just said?
"That is all, for now." Anderson dismissed him, "But next time, I expect a more prompt… and neat… appearance."
Zoltar nodded gratefully, stumbling from the room. The Chief merely shook his head. He supposed that Mark was entitled to have a bad day now and then. Fortunately, Spectra had been keeping quiet, so hopefully this wouldn't interfere with a call to duty.
After wandering around lost for half an hour, Zoltar realized that he could call up a set of basic interior schematics of Center Neptune from any of the computer terminals stationed along the corridors. Grateful for this discovery, he found his way to the locker room he had visited yesterday with Jason and Tiny. Gratefully, he showered there, using the soap he had found in the locker with the Commander's name on it. Fortunately, it had opened by handprint verification. Zoltar was relieved to find that there was also a fresh set of identical clothing inside the metal compartment.
Feeling slightly refreshed, Zoltar would have been ready for more research, except that the severity of his headache had not receded. He felt almost nauseous from the pounding inside of his brain.
Jason walked into the locker room, to see his Commander sitting on the bench, his head in his hands.
"Hey, Mark, what's wrong?" he asked, in a concerned voice.
"I'm not certain." Zoltar replied, grateful for the kindness he heard in the Condor's tone. "My head aches."
"Oh." Jason shrugged, moving away. "Time for an implant re-tuning?"
Even in his pitiful state, the word jumped out at Zoltar. Implant. Did the G-Force team have implants? That might explain their superior abilities. Yes… it made sense. They were some kind of cyborgs! Zoltar made a mental note to perform a full analysis on the Commander's body after he was executed. This kind of technology could be immensely valuable to Spectra.
"Yes…" Zoltar said slowly. "That must be it. I don't recall the last time it was done."
"Well, they say we should get it done every three months," Jason stated, "but I hate that damn procedure so much I usually just let it slide until I really need it. Sounds like you've let it go on too long, though, Mark. I've never seen you so affected by it."
"It's not as bad as it looks." Zoltar said, quickly backtracking. "I'm just tired, I guess."
"Huh." Jason appeared to lose interest in the conversation as he busied himself in his locker.
"Ready to go?" he asked a few minutes later.
"Go?" Zoltar was surprised.
"Training. It starts in about two minutes." Jason reminded him. "I would hardly think that our illustrious Commander would forget." He smirked at 'Mark'.
"Of course I didn't forget." Zoltar sighed. "I just thought that you probably did. How many times have you turned up late for training?" Zoltar was just shooting in the dark here, but he figured that he could throw off suspicion with the accusation.
"Hey, it was only three times this past month!" Jason said defensively. Zoltar smiled. It appeared that he had hit the target dead on. He almost felt that he was coming to know the Condor.
"In any case, we should get going." Zoltar pointed out. He was eager to see where the team trained and what techniques they used. His head was still pounding, but he used all of his inner resolve to push that aside and concentrate on the matter at hand.
It was no small effort.
Jason merely rolled his eyes and swung his left arm around.
"Trans… mute!"
Damn. Zoltar had forgotten about that. It hadn't been pleasant going through the transmutation process the day before, and now he had to do it again.
"Transmute!" he exclaimed clumsily, jerking his arm in front of his face. Jason didn't notice, as he was already walking toward the door.
Zoltar had suffered through the intense feelings of pain that he had endured during the transformation the previous day, but this was even worse. Prickling needles of agony struck every square millimeter of his skin as he gasped for breath, desperately praying for this nightmare to be over. The pain of his headache was nothing in comparison, receding into the background as a minor annoyance compared to this sensation of his flesh being peeled off and re-applied, inch by inch.
The entire process only took a few seconds, but it seemed like an eternity to Zoltar.
He followed the Condor out of the room, stumbling as he did so.
Perhaps training hadn't been such a good idea, after all.
