The Interstellar Police Force, Book One: The Historic Mission

By Raymond F. Klein

This Science Fiction-Action-Comedy, set on present day Earth, begins in a far-off galaxy. When the frantic communication from the Prison Transfer vehicle 964 came into the Interstellar Police Force headquarters on the planet Ashlar, they knew that Prodor Moffit was making his break. By the time they got to the last known position of the transfer vehicle, Moffit and the other prisoners on board the commandeered 964 were long gone into that black vacuum of space. The search went on for months until they stumbled upon their destination. A little-known world called Earth.

The mission to search for and recapture the prisoners was by no means a simple one. The two IPF agents given this task must travel to the distant world and land unbeknownst to the humans. And being that they are alien in appearance, they have to replicate themselves to appear human, so they can blend in with the human race. The commander's replication succeeds, but due to a computer glitch his partner is replicated into a Doberman Pinscher.

With help from a young Earth girl who unwittingly discovers their true identities, the mission to re-capture Prodor Moffit and the other prisoners is on.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Raymond F. Klein
• Release date: Jul 11, 2022
• ISBN: 9781005708139

Raymond F. Klein

I am a first-time author and live in Wesley Chapel, Florida which is about thirty minutes north of the city of Tampa. I work for the ABC television affiliate, and I’ve been in the TV industry off and on for about twenty years.I have always liked the concept, in book form and in television of a drama with comical undertones. Very similar to the short lived, yet great TV series Firefly. I feel I have achieved this concept as well with my IPF Agents, Jeff Trent and Genghis Khan.

Book preview

Prologue

Tensions and security were both high when the eight inmates were led to the waiting transfer vehicle, higher than normal, and all due to one particular inmate, Prodor Moffit.

The guards were alert and focused. All their weapons were pointed down, safeties off. Their fingers were on the trigger guards, not the triggers. No one wanted to accidentally discharge their weapon and start a panic. There were rumors that there would be an attempt to break Moffit out, being that this was the most vulnerable part of the prisoner transfer. Out in the open and walking to the transfer vehicle.

As the shackled inmates were marched up the ramp of Interstellar Police Prison Transfer vehicle 964, Prodor Moffit glanced back at the throng of armed guards. He was quite pleased; this heightened security was all for his benefit. He gave them all a knowing grin and continued up the ramp with the other inmates.

After the inmates were secured in their cells on the third deck, the transfer vehicle was readied for departure. Coordinates to the penitentiary on a neighboring planet were loaded into the navigational computer. The crew of IPPT 964 closed and sealed hatches, the invisible magnetic mooring lines were released.

The two pilots in the cockpit engaged the ascent engines and the vehicle gently rose from the ground. As it pointed it’s bow toward the starry night sky for the fifteen day journey, the guards, watching from the ground, relaxed as the vehicle accelerated higher into the night. Their job was done.

But no one knew at that moment that IPPT 964 would never make it to its destination.

Chapter One

The Interstellar Police Force cruiser slipped effortlessly through the great void of space, its long journey nearly complete. The cruiser entered the targeted solar system and maneuvered through the Kuiper Belt. This massive region of debris, remnants left behind from the formation of the solar system, was caught in an infinite orbit around the sun, stretching as far out as Neptune.

The ship continued on, passing the massive gas planet, Jupiter. The large anticyclonic storm resembling a giant red eye watched as the vessel passed.

The cruiser was the standard long range IPF vehicle. It was equipped with everything necessary that the two IPF Agents would need for their extended mission.

The tri-level vehicle was long and sleek. The upper-most section encompassed the bridge. It was not very big, large enough for about five occupants. Located behind the pilot and co-pilot's chairs, toward the back of the bridge, was a metallic stairway descending to the second deck.

The second deck held the living quarters, galley, science lab, medical center, and armory. Toward the far end of the deck was a large hatch, which led to the power plant, life support and propulsion systems.

The lower third deck, which was accessible only by a security code entered into a small touch screen wall-mounted locking mechanism, was where the holding cells and morgue were located.

The two police officers were in the science lab, sitting in front of one of the many computers in the room. The room was fairly large, with built-in computer systems and equipment covering most of the wall space. In the center, mounted to the floor, was a long table filled with handheld devices and stacks of paperwork.

Both were humanoid in appearance, and both had been agents with the Interstellar Police Force for some time. The taller of the two, having more years and higher rank, was in command of this particular mission. He was six feet tall, of medium build, and was dressed in the standard issue IPF uniform. He had short, thin, wispy hair which was barely noticeable. The eyes were large and dark, iris and pupils of the same shade with no sclera. His skin was smooth and pale, his nose and mouth were small.

He was third generation IPF; his grandfather was one of the founding fathers of the agency. His father rose to the rank of Commissioner. It was in his blood. So, the day after he became old enough to join the force, he did not hesitate. And he rose through the ranks. In his third year as a detective he made a name for himself by tracking down and arresting one of the most notorious psychopathic killers of his time. Which was why he volunteered for this mission.

His partner was an up-and-coming agent. He was of the same race as the commander and five years his junior. He kept his head shaved and had a slightly larger nose with higher cheekbones. He had a muscular build and took his physical training very seriously. He graduated top of his class with degrees in criminology and psychology. His mother wanted him to be a doctor. But the allure of law enforcement had intrigued him since he was a young boy. He read all he could about the Interstellar Police Force from its conception, when the Counsels of the three main planets of their solar system realized they needed a unified police force, to how it grew into an elite police agency serving and protecting most of the known worlds in their galaxy and others.

The commander and his partner spoke to each other in a foreign tongue. After a few moments, they stood and walked to another set of computers. They stood in front of the floor to ceiling computer system while the commander's partner touched the screen and activated it.

The computer hummed and came to life, then emitted two thin red laser beams that struck each of them harmlessly in the foreheads. Then, the beams began to horizontally fan out, until it was the width of their heads.

It started quickly oscillating up and down.

Chapter Two

They had been watching, and studying, and gathering information on the human race for eons. Ever since the first amphibians crawled out of that primordial soup and filled their newly developing lungs with air.

They watched how the early mammals scurried across the Mesozoic terrain, evading the footsteps and jaws of the larger reptilians of that period. These small mammals did their best to survive in that harsh landscape. And after millions of years those reptiles, the dinosaurs, finally died out and the mammals were allowed to evolve from small quadruped mammals to bi-pedal primates.

They chronicled the events of the first Homo Sapien, awkwardly taking that first step to stand erect. They watched this small planet's population grow. And They studied everything.

They collected the works of all the great minds of the early times, like Socrates and Plato, and They marveled at the genius of Archimedes.

They were mesmerized at the immense talent that came out of the Renaissance period. The beautiful brush strokes of Sandro Botticelli’s Birth of Venus. The marble masterpiece of Michelagelo’s Pieta. And Their favorite, the works of Leonardo Da Vinci, from his great collection of paintings and sketches to his many inventions. They knew them all.

They could remember, so long ago in Their history, the exhilaration and excitement They felt on that dark moonless night when They first gazed up, using a crude instrument, and viewed the multitude of stars in the Heavens. As did Galileo Galilei, on his dark moonless night.

Then, about the time Isaac Newton defined the law of universal gravitation, They started to lose interest in this small inconsequential planet. They had other priorities. The human race by no means was the only race They studied. There were hundreds of thousands of populated planets out there. Many of which were ready to be indoctrinated, but the human race was just not physically or mentally ready yet. The gathering of the information was just protocol. After all, this was still considered a third class world. A world to be watched and its histories collected and studied with the intent that one day, perhaps, They would introduce Themselves.

Over the centuries, it had always been the job of the curator of The Great Antiquities Museum to oversee all items of historical interest that were brought into the museum, and to manage the information and histories of all known populated worlds. Presently, these duties were performed by the current curator of the museum, Curator Aggister Bancus.

Each world had its own computer file. And within that file, folders and sub-folders of all their accomplishments. For instance, one world's file would have a folder marked Inventions which would consist of sub-folders within, in chronological order of all of that particular planet's innovations. One planet’s file could hold hundreds of folders. With headings such as: Inventors / Inventions, Political Leaders, Entrepreneurs, Art and Entertainment, Criminal Activities, Wars, Deaths, Planetary Weather, and so on.

This was the same for the human race as well, although their file was not as big as some of the others. Even though the human race was not looked upon with interest any longer, it was still the job of Curator Bancus to observe and gather all the information he could on the human race and file it away into the museum's Anthology of Worlds computer. This way, They would have something to reference when it was time for the human race.

Usually he performed these duties during his lunch hour.

He collected information on the first shots fired at Lexington.

Napoleon Bonaparte crowning himself Emperor. Then turning the armies of France into the greatest military power of its time. Curator Bancus filed away Bonaparte’s military victories, his conquests, his exile, and then his death.

He chronicled and filed away the invention of the gasoline combustion engine. The beginning of the Industrial Revolution. Then that momentous day on December seventeenth, when two brothers took to the air in powered flight.

And when Albert Einstein published his Theory of Relativity, Curator Bancus found a kindred spirit. A man of science, a physicist and mathematician as himself. He read all of Einstein’s papers, even though the theories were not new to Them.

The human folder marked War was filling up. Not a surprise to the Curator. Most populated worlds had their differences with each other. And the human race was not an exception.

He collected information on the killing of Archduke Ferdinand of Austria and his wife Sofia, which started a great war that involved the majority of this little planet.

Then, shortly before the Great War ended, Tsar Nicholas II was forced to abdicate after the Russian revolution. Later he, his wife, and five children were all arrested, then all executed, along with the family doctor and personal servants.

When the National Socialist Party in Germany elected their new leader, Curator Bancus was not surprised. He’d seen things like this before on other worlds. He watched the newly elected leader rise to power and become Chancellor.

Then came the invasion of Poland and the start of another great war. Which again involved the majority of their planet. And as with all wars, its eventual end with the unveiling of the nuclear age.

But it was not all business for Curator Bancus. He did enjoy the human form of entertainment, which was much different from Their own. He enjoyed listening to Glenn Miller and even taught himself how to swing dance. But being that Aggister Bancus is a short, slightly pudgy individual, his colleagues thought he was having a seizure when they witnessed his swing dancing for the first time. So, from then on he danced strictly in the privacy of his own home. He could also sing along with all of the Rodgers and Hammerstein show tunes.

He enjoyed the films of Charlie Chaplin so much that he copied them all so he could watch them at home at his own leisure. Then, he discovered Harold Lloyd and Buster Keaton and did the same. Then when the small screen became very popular with the human race, he found more talents to copy, like the zany antics of that crazy redhead, Lucy, and the western adventures of Hopalong Cassidy.

Curator Bancus worked diligently, collecting everything he could on this little planet. He marveled at how far the human race had come when they sent the first artificial satellite into orbit on top of that controlled explosion. And he truly felt sad for them when, in the human year of 1959, a little Beechcraft Bonanza aircraft crashed in Iowa killing the three talented musicians it carried.

One night, in Their year of 4045, Aggister Bancus was home enjoying dinner and watching one of his many copies of human entertainment. Just about the time Lucy was begging Ricky to be in his Hollywood picture, Aggister Bancus got a communication.

A catastrophe.

A fire.

It was never determined how exactly the fire started or why the fire suppression system did not activate. But forty-five percent of the Great Antiquities Museum’s artifacts were lost in the blaze. Objects of Their past. And the past of others. Including the immense collection of files in the Anthology of Worlds computer. All that millennia of collecting and filing was lost, in what was later known as The Great Fire of 4045.

Technicians spent countless hours retrieving files from the charred remains of the Anthology computer. Some files were lost forever, some fragmented. Fortunately, the files that were completely lost were of worlds that had been friends of Theirs for many, many years. So, the loss was not badly felt.

But for the human race, ninety-eight percent of their file was gone. And, if it wasn’t for one technician, nothing would have been left. After working several days and nights he was finally able to extract a sub-folder from the Arts and Entertainment file. This little folder was all They had on the human race. This little folder was all the reference They could retrieve. This little sub-folder from the Arts and Entertainment file was not the many plays penned by William Shakespeare or the complete collection of Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart. Nor was it the macabre writings of Edgar Allan Poe. Instead, it was an obscure little folder entitled, The Worst Cinematic Productions of The Human Race - 1935 to 1959.

After the Great Fire of 4045 all interest in the human race, and their little planet they called Earth, was put aside. And after a very long while, forgotten altogether. After all, they were only a third class world.

That all changed, eight months ago.

Chapter Three

The eerie red glow of the computer's oscillating lasers danced rhythmically off the walls of the science lab. The shadows from the two agents leapt quickly back and forth from wall to wall. Then, the lasers abruptly turned off.

The commander looked at his partner and announced, Ah! There we go. We are now speaking the language of the indigenous people we must infiltrate. With all the vernacular and modern slang needed to move unnoticed among their populace.

And for the record, his partner said, I’m confirming that I too am speaking the same language and hearing and comprehending everything you speak. He looked at the commander with satisfaction. The Replication Computer is functioning normally. He looked over his computer console then announced, We’ve entered the solar system. Second stage of entry should commence in approximately fifteen minutes.

Good, we’re right on schedule, the commander said. Then let's proceed to the next stage and replicate ourselves into the human form.

Again his partner touched the screen and activated the computer. And again it hummed and emitted the lasers, striking them as before. This time the beam widened the width of their bodies and started to oscillate from head to foot.

They started to change. Spiraling strands of DNA started to restructure. Muscles took on different shapes. Cells began to metabolically take on new forms. Bone started to twist, tissue to reshaped. Their skin changed to a different shade of hue. They felt no pain but could feel their bodies transforming. Then, as before, the beam abruptly turned off. The transformations were complete.

The commander looked down at his hand. Much different from the one he was used to. He brought his hand up and touched his newly formed face. He could not help but grin. He felt the curvature of his smiling mouth. The tip of his nose, ears, the smaller eyes. And then something strange. Hair above each eye. What an odd thing! They had both studied the one and only folder they had on the human race, but still he could not believe it.

He continued to explore. His fingers touched his forehead, then something unfamiliar to his race. Thick hair upon his head. Not the anemic strands that are genetically found within their race, but thick, black, wavy collar length hair, combed straight back with the part over his left eye.

The commander could not hold his elation, I am a human male! Look at me. I’m a human. . . He stopped in mid-sentence and hooked a thumb into his waistband. Pulled his uniform trousers outward and peered in. He gave a disgusted look and said, Yes, I am definitely a human male.

Th, then . . . what the hell am I?

The commander heard the quiver and fear in his partner's voice. He looked over to him, then to the floor where he was standing. OH, MY! he said loudly, not being able to hide the shock in his voice. Oh! I mean I . . . I’m not sure? His partner was definitely not a human male, or female for that matter.

What am I? his partner asked. What the hell happened to me? This isn’t right!

Now, now don’t panic. Don’t panic, the commander said to reassure his partner. I’ll just input your description into the Replicator. He activated the computer with shaking hands, It will tell us. Then, under his breath, I hope it will tell us.

This can’t be happening to me! his partner said. I’m supposed to be a human and look at me. I’m covered with fur!

The commander frantically started to input information into the computer about his partner's newly acquired form. Okay, now let's see. He looked down at his partner. You're obviously a quadruped. He inputted, then looked again. Short black and tan fur covering approximately ninety-eight percent of your body. Inputting again, he then looked his partner up and down and inquired, Where’s your uniform?

Oh, well let's see, hmm, his partner said. "Since I’m now much shorter than before, I was able to just step out of it! He began to raise his voice. Now can we please find out what the hell happened to me?"

The commander looked at the pile of uniform clothes behind his partner and noticed something and spoke as he inputted it into the computer. Short stubby tail.

What! Looking behind, I have a tail?

The commander continued, You have pointy ears along with a large proboscis. He inputted and looked again, And the most adorable almond eyes, he said, trying to break the tension with humor, an old nervous habit.

Cut that out! he shouted, not in the mood for tension relief. And tell me what . . .

Ah, here we go. The commander interrupted. Using his index finger he started to scan down the information. Ahh . . . you are a ‘Canis Lupus Familiaris’, ‘Caninus’, ‘Carnivora’. Oh! Oh! He looked at his partner. Just as I suspected. You’re a canine of the human race!

A human canine! he said, shocked and dismayed, "What! Why! Who! – What?"

Yes, a canine of the human race, he said. Specifically, a Doberman Pinscher. He read the computer screen. Let’s see here. The closer they got to Earth, the more information the computer was able to update. Thought to have been first bred around the human year of 1890 by Karl Friedrich Louis Dobermann . . .

"I DON’T CARE! I care WHY! Why am I a human canine?"

Technically, a canine of the human race.

"Whatever the hell! Why am I a human canine?"

Oh, yes, right. He turned to his partner, "I’m not completely sure why. But, look at the bright side."

Bright side? What possible bright side?

Well, you're apparently still a male!

The commander's partner quickly looked down at himself. "Oh, goodnight nurse! I’m exposed! This is so humiliating! With confusion and anger building he asked, Why am I a canine? Why would the Replicator replicate me into a human canine?"

Puzzled, the commander thought for a moment, Well, I don’t know. There must be a reason.

Like, what? The Doberman Pinscher asked.

The commander was silent for a moment. The only thing heard in the room was the hum of the computers. Well . . . perhaps . . .

"Well nothing! There’s absolutely no reason at all for this. I’ve studied the sub-folder we have on the humans preparing for this mission just as you did. They treat their canines as slave labor! They train them to do stupid tricks. And they're so dumb, they don’t even know it!"

You really can’t say that, the commander said. The information we have on the human race is very limited, ever since The Great Fire of 4045.

Ah come on! They sniff each others' posteriors, he said with an air of disapproval and disgust, "Their butts."

Trying desperately to calm his partner down, the commander said, Well, I guess that’s how human canines greet each other.

His partner just stood there staring in disbelief. "What? Okay, tell me. Do human males greet each other by sniffing each others' posterior?"

No of course not . . . well, I don’t believe so.

No! No they don’t. After a moment his partner said, I’m going to reactivate the Replication Computer and go through again. And this time this stupid computer better get things right!

No you can’t, the commander said. You know as well as I do you can’t. We can only go through replication twice. Turning into, then turning back. Anymore than that could cause irreversible damage. You know the technical aspects of replication. Now you’re an IPF Agent, start acting like one. We’ve gone through worse things than this together as Agents.

His partner pondered this fact for a few minutes. He twitched his nose and flicked his newly formed ears. Then sat on his haunches. I apologize for my outburst. He sighed loudly, then said, "It’s just that, I’ve . . . we’ve been preparing for this mission for some time now. This historic mission. A mission that has never been attempted before ever in our history. A mission to infiltrate a world we know little about. A world that has no idea we even exist and isn't ready for the overwhelming reality of life beyond their galaxy. We have to get in, complete the mission, and get out unnoticed. He paused for a few seconds. I graduated at the top of my class. I have received commendations for outstanding police work for God's sake! Now I have to represent myself as a human canine! What will the history books say?"

The commander completely understood but was secretly glad it didn’t happen to him. I am truly sorry about this. But there must be a reason the Replication Computer chose this form for you.

His partner thought for a moment. And that’s another thing. If I’m a human canine, a dumb, drooling human canine. Then — why — am — I — TALKING! If I was a human canine shouldn’t I be going, 'bark, bark and woof, woof'?

Well, the commander said, suddenly realizing this, yes, I suppose you're right. Perhaps the Replicator got human canines and Codas canines confused.

Oh! Confused is an understatement.

Well, you know those Codas canines. Once you get one of them talking you can’t shut them up. The commander continued, Nevertheless, we’re approaching our destination and must proceed with the mission. We’ll deal with your little condition later.

"Little condition! I beg your pardon!"

Come now, we need to continue with the mission. Go ahead and set the Replicator to give us the necessary credentials and documentation to allow us to move around freely when we land.

Very well, setting the Replicator to continue with . . . OH MY GOD!

"What? What happened?"

His partner held up a paw and in a shocked voice said, No opposable thumbs! Look! NO OPPOSABLE THUMBS! What am I going to do NOW?

I don’t know! You're just going to have to adapt. Use your pointy digit nails to manipulate the computer. The commander held up his hands. Mine are short and round. He smiled and waved his fingers in the air.

Exasperated, his partner rolled his eyes. This is so not fair. He started to activate the computer and muttered, Codas canines have thumbs. Then, louder, "I am so going to make a formal complaint about this for the official record."

Well, the commander said, while looking at his fingernails, that’s in your right.

Yeah, yeah! Next, you’ll be telling me human canines defecate outdoors!

The computer was activated and in moments personal effects were produced on small platforms in front of the two IPF agents.

Ah! Here we go. The articles we will need to successfully complete our mission, the commander said while picking them up. This is human currency. He fanned out the bills in his hand, looked at them front and back, placed them to the side, then went back to the rest of the items. Let’s see, this here is a . . . Social Security Card. He looked at his partner. It must indicate my social standings within the community. He placed that with the currency. This card is different! He took his index finger and flicked it. Made differently. Seems to be petroleum based, the front of it states ‘Diners Club’. Shaking his head, I haven’t a clue.

Then, with great elation, And this must be my driving certification. He picked it up. It is! Let's see what name the Replicator chose for me. He read the card. Jeff Trent! I will from here on out be referred to as Jeff Trent. We can’t make the mistake of using our real names. It could attract too much attention. He thought back to the Art and Entertainment sub-folder that they both studied preparing for the mission, the only reference they had since The Great Fire of 4045, and pondered the name for a few seconds. "Of course! The lead character from the human film Plan 9 from Outer Space. He looked at his partner. You know the one." But the Doberman gave him only a scowl as a response.

You know? the commander continued, trying to fill the void, Where space aliens plan to resurrect the dead into an army of zombies to take over the world. Still nothing. Which the lead character, he gestured toward himself, Jeff Trent must stop.

Nonchalantly, his partner asked, What is this? And held up a leather object between the digits of his left paw.

Ah, well. The commander could see this was going from bad to worse.

"What the hell is this? The Doberman repeated, shaking the object he was holding. Is this, he paused to look at it, then back to the commander, Is this a collar? Is it? A collar?"

Ah, I think perhaps, yes.

"And do I have to wear this around my neck?"

Ah, yes, the commander said, not making eye contact with his partner and fiddling with his Diners Club card. Yes, I think so. Then said, Hey, look! holding up the card. This card has Jeff Trent's name on it also. He gave a nervous little laugh. Didn't see that before. I wonder if the currency does too? He turned to look.

Well, the Doberman said, throwing his paws in the air. This just keeps on getting better all the time doesn't it? First, I get replicated into a human canine, now I have to be subjected to the indignity and humiliation of wearing a collar around my neck. And I suppose you're going to attach THIS to it! He thrust up a leash.

No! No! I would never do such a thing.

"Well, Jeff, I would certainly hope not!" The sarcasm flowed from his partner like a fissure in a dam.

Trying to veer the topic in another direction Trent said, What are those little dangly things there?

Well, hellooo! his partner replied. "You’ve already pointed out the fact that I’m a human canine male."

No, no, now pointing at the collar. Those little dangly things.

His partner looked at where Trent was pointing and sure enough there were two small tags hanging from the collar. He read one. "Well, like in Glen or Glenda you peek up the skirt and get a surprise. He turned to look at Trent. These must be my credentials and documentation. Here’s a tag that states that I’m up-to-date on all my shots. Including rabies and distemper. And hey look at this! My fecal parasite test was negative. Isn’t that lovely!"

Jeff Trent had no response, he just shrugged his newly formed shoulders and grinned. His partner was still looking at the tags with great disdain. Then, looking at the other tag he read something. Something that did not set well with him.

Oh, this is priceless, he said. "It says ‘If found, return to Jeff Trent.’ If found! Then speaking in a mocking tone, Oh! I’m a big dumb drooling human canine and I’m ever so lost! Please return me to Jeff Trent, my owner. Then changing his tone to annoyance, This is so ridiculous!" He glanced at the collar again, not believing that this was happening to him. He then flipped the tag over to see more on the reverse side.

Oh, wait! he said, as he read on while Trent silently cringed, sorry that he brought up the little dangly things. There’s more! It states here that my name is, he suddenly stopped, and looked at Trent, "Genghis Khan! That’s my name? Genghis Khan? What the hell kind of a name is that for a human canine?"

Well, he thought for a moment. "Oh, that’s from the human film The Conqueror,"