Apollo, A Roman Galactic Police Officer

Chapter One

What the mars! Apollo’s mind detonated in thought. I felt that explosion tremble right through my synthetic brain like a massive roman earthquake. If my body were physically aboard this galactic police cruiser, I probably would not have survived the concussion.

Computer, status report?

Officer Apollo, the ship’s primary engines are critically damaged. Our secondary sub-light engines are destroyed beyond repair. Damage to the outer hull along the entire length of our starboard is severe. Breaches in our hull have depleted our internal atmosphere. Our low orbit around the third planet from the sun will decay within twenty-seven revolutions.

Where is the mad doctor’s pirate ship?

The fugitive’s damaged vessel has successfully landed on the planet’s surface.

Can our ship’s robotics repair our primary engines?

Not within the time factor of our decaying orbit.

Status of our communications?

Our communications’ array was totally annihilated.

Computer, do you have any good news?

No, Apollo, responded the ship’s computer by way of an artificial female voice.

What do we know about the planet below?

Class M-four-nine, highly industrialized polluted planet. Approximately seventy-one percent of the planet’s surface area is covered with oceans. The blue planet serves a large variety of oxygen-based life forms. The primary intellectual beings inhabiting the planet are called human beings. They have a mid-range intelligence level with very limited space travel technology. This is the only inhabited planet within this small solar system, which is classified as a non-interference zone.

For Jupiter sakes… that means I shouldn’t even be in this solar system. I can’t believe my life is going to end this way. If I don’t return to claim my body, the ruling scientists and the demigod doctors are going to freely award my body to a needy roman.

You are correct, Apollo. After a time equaling one third revolution around the roman sun, your essence will be declared deceased, voiced the ship’s computer. Full body genetic copying has been illegal since the cloned Johnson versus roman Johnson verdict of the twenty-ninth millennium. As a result, romans with severe damage to their external bodies are often awarded a used body that’s in good condition.

Thanks for the depressing information. Apollo paused in thought. For what must be the twentieth time, the evil Dr. Julius Mors and his criminal alien associates have escaped my lawful grasp, and now they may interfere in the natural development of the human race. I need to stop Julius before he uses his brainpowers to dominate the humans.

Apollo, humans are similar to your roman race. Given a few more hundred revolutions around their sun, their technology and brainpower may catch up to your roman race.

Yes, I clearly remember humans. During my youthful bio programming, I learned a great deal about the human race. Their M-four planet is called earth. Long before our non-interference galactic laws were established, we interfered with the human race. My roman ancestors traveled to earth and passed themselves off as Gods so they could study the humans. My mother named me after the great scientist Apollo, who led the first space expeditions to earth. Humans and romans are almost biologically identical. It is odd how the evolution of life can occasionally follow a similar path on M-four oxygen class planets.

Officer Apollo, I have calculated there is enough time to transfer your essence into an earth dwelling, lower life form. This will allow you to continue living.

How low a life form are you referring too? I would like to have the ability to communicate with the humans. I need to warn them about Dr. Julius Mors and his crew of misfit aliens. Apollo paused a moment in thought, then he continued speaking to the ship’s computer by means of his artificial voice. I’m the one who chased Julius Mors into this solar system. I’m also the one who damaged his stolen roman vessel. This whole mess is entirely my fault.

You are the galactic police officer commanding this pursuit mission; therefore, you are the only one at fault.

For Jupiter sakes! I already admitted I’m the one at fault. You don’t need to rub it into my synthetic brain with a brush having sharp steel bristles.

My scanners show many lower life animals on the planet do interact with the humans. Our ship’s robotics can quickly program bio-nano androids to condense the animal’s brain, increase its life span, and possibly construct a voice box.

If this is my only hope of survival, than I obviously have no choice. I must do whatever I can to prevent Dr. Julius Mors and his alien cronies from creating havoc on this non-interference planet, possibly injuring or murdering humans. I don’t want my essence stained with the blood of humans.

Your survival time is running out. I have already sent our robotic sample retrieval unit to the surface to capture a lower life form. The robotic unit is stealth, and this side of the world is in darkness.

A robotic sample retrieval unit is not very big. How small of a lower life animal am I going to be?

Small enough to comfortably fit into our robotic sample retrieval unit.

Sometimes you’re computer logic is a pain in my artificial brain.

My artificial intelligence is based totally on logical experience, whereas your intelligence is based on an essence filled with useless roman emotions.

Call me old an old fashion roman, but I’ve never liked these bodiless controlled galaxy police cruisers. Instead of being mentally integrated with the police cruiser, I’d rather be in my body physically controlling the ship. For many revolutions around our sun, I’ve been warning everybody that our technology is advancing too rapidly. Maybe my race should revert back to a more primitive state when we used our bodies to perform almost every task.

Are you forgetting you’re a member of a race who bases all aspects of its structure and culture on science and technology? Maybe you should have been a high supreme scientist leader instead of a galactic police officer. As a scientist leader you might be able to do something to control technology instead of complaining about it.

No way in Neptune’s watery pit of death. I’m happy being a proud galactic police officer. At least I frequently use my physical body. Unlike many of the other galactic police officers, I only integrate my essence with my police ship during periods when my body is healing from an injury. Unlike many romans, I will never have the desire to leave my body several sun revolutions at a time inside an electronic bio-pod, so my essence can be integrated with our roman worldwide computer system. I prefer to view the worldwide system on a large computer monitor. I have a good roman body, with a great deal of muscle, that’s because I actually do physical combat training. I enjoy running after dangerous fugitives and capturing them with my bare hands, just like the police gladiators of roman past. My family has produced strong roman police officers for the past twenty-two generations, beyond the time of Jupiter, our great scientist king. I’m going to miss my biological body. I shouldn’t have pursued Dr. Mors and his alien crew such a long distance across the universe without calling in for backup.

Officer Apollo, my artificial intelligence is certain your highly illogical emotions prompt you to chase the fugitives. You obviously blame yourself for allowing Dr. Mors to repeatably escape your grasp.

Why is it, the more I work with you, the more your artificial intelligence acts like a roman psychiatrist?

I know you too well, Apollo. We have been working together off and on for eleven roman years, policing the untamed galaxies. There are occasions I believe you need a psychiatrist to tame your primitive emotions? Your overbearing arrogance and determination forced you to continue the pursuit without calling in for backup. Dr. Julius Mors injured your body, so you left it behind to heal, thinking you could catch up to him and destroy his ship.

I know what the mars I did, but what I didn’t know was Dr. Mors’ getaway vessel was equipped with a Cerberus missile of death. What I’d like to know is why our scanners did not detect and destroy the missile before it hit our police ship.

I have determined the Cerberus missile Dr. Julius Mors fired was shielded with a form of low energy stealth technology. The missile penetrated our protective force bubble before my systems could react, thus destroying over forty percent of our ship’s stern section.

Oh mars, the word stealth just reminded me. I hope we’re still mirrored?

Yes, Apollo. The humans cannot detect us; however, the mirroring will expire when our police cruiser enters their atmosphere. I plan to initiate the self-destruct to prevent detection. We must do whatever we can to uphold the non-interference laws. Besides, our police ship may crash in a heavily populated area, thus causing massive destruction with human casualties.

For you to become nonexistent doesn’t trouble you?

I do not carry your emotional baggage, which contains an overwhelming need to survive. I am a copy of a computer program that has the capability to learn. My original program designed to serve roman galactic police officers will still exist.

I love being alive… that’s why I don’t like my essence removed from my body and placed into an artificial brain to command a galaxy police cruiser. I feel a billion times more alive when I’m in my roman body. I also hate this artificial voice…it doesn’t sound anything like my real voice. I just don’t like being out of my body.

I have been monitoring hundreds of human broadcasts from their orbiting satellites, thus learning a great deal about their race. They are extremely comparable to your primitive ancestors. Obviously, your race’s interference was a major influence in their development. They still utilize the names of your great roman scientists. You shouldn’t have any difficulty adjusting to their world; however, you may have a little trouble adjusting to your new lower life form body.

Adjusting to their world, Apollo repeated in a harsh artificial voice tone. For Pandora’s sake, computer, I’m going to be a lower life animal. I doubt if I’ll have any roman hands to protect myself.

Your primitive emotions are erupting again, voiced the ship’s computer. Our robotic sample retrieval unit has docked on our forward hatch. The robotic unit found an injured animal that may have been struck by an archaic fossil-fuel-powered surface vehicle. Our android bio-nanos have already been injected into the animal and they are currently repairing major internal injuries.

Okay, I found a forward camera eye. I can see the little creature lying inside the oxygenated retrieval unit chamber. What the mars is it?

The warm blooded animal is a genus canis species. Humans prefer to call the animal a dog. I do not know what breed of dog it is.

Will I need to be worried about being captured, butchered, cooked, and eaten?

Highly unlikely. Humans domesticate dogs to be utilized as pets. The dogs live and interact with the humans as family members. Earth dogs are similar to your world’s pointed-eared trojan creatures.

Oh, the joy of Venus. I can imagine a human child yanking my tail or poking their dirty fingers in my eyes.

The android bio-nanos have completed repairing the dog’s injuries. They are now altering the dog’s internal makeup to make your stay within the animal as comfortable as possible. This dog would’ve died if we had not intervened.

Make my stay comfortable! It’s a strange looking creature with a long tail and big ears, not a fancy lodge room. Nobody knows where the mars we are. I’m probably going to be stuck inside this little dog creature for the rest of its life.

The android bio-nanos are altering the internal genetic makeup of the dog. You will be able to see a full color spectrum, have the ability to communicate verbally, and your hearing and smell will be exceptionally superior. The dog’s brain has already been highly compressed and enhanced to house your roman essence. You may even possess some telekinesis and telepathic abilities. The android nanos will also help to protect your new body.

Does the dog have any clothing? A pair of pants would be real nice.

I have not located any information that says dogs wear pants.

Humans are going to see my little private parts. For the love of Venus, I can clearly see the creature’s little male components.

Information gathered from the human broadcasts show dogs wearing collars around their necks. Many dogs wear decorated shirts and coats to help protect them from harsh climate changes. Obviously, it does not disturb the humans to see naked dogs.

It disturbs me! I’m the one who’s going to be running around naked like a wild creature.

For you, dog clothing would be illogical because you cannot dress yourself. You would have to depend on a human to dress you. I suggest it would be best for you to learn how to be a typical dog.

How in the mars am I going to learn how to be a typical dog?

I suggest you locate some dogs and interact with them. Mimic what they do.

I’m more related to the humans than their pet dogs.

Apollo, time is running out. I need to transfer your essence into the earth dog. Our robotic sample retrieval unit will transport you to the planet’s surface in a remote area that’s within three thousand meters of Dr. Mors landing site. You must immediately disembark the retrieval unit and proceed to a safe distance of twenty roman feet. I have programmed the robotic sample retrieval unit to self-destruct five earth minutes after touchdown.

Very well, computer. I want you to know I’m actually going to miss you.

To miss a computer program is a wasted roman emotion.

Chapter Two

The small hatch door on the robotic sample retrieval unit quickly spiraled open like a camera shutter. Apollo dashed out of the open hatch, running as fast as his little four legs could move him.

In the murkiness of the break of dawn, he noticed a huge tree straight ahead. He ran around the opposite side of the pine tree and tightly closed his eyes to protect them from the pending harmful rays of light.

The robotic sample retrieval unit started to glow extremely bright as it rapidly self destructed into nonexistence.

That was a surprise, thought Apollo. I can run pretty fast with these four little legs. Although, I sure do feel strange. Obviously, this is going to take some time for me to adjust to this little dog body. I really don’t like being so close to the ground. It makes everything around me seem so humongous. Although this long tail is somewhat awesome, he thought as he whipped it about like an ancient police gladiator’s whip. My mind is being bombarded with weird noises. I don’t think I like this improved hearing. Maybe I can mentally learn to focus only on the sounds I wish to hear.

There must be a great number of feathered flying dinosaurs on earth. I can hear hundreds of them singing their early morning Cupid songs. Most of the little flying dinosaurs on my home world have become extinct.

Apollo gazed around at the green plants, the tall trees, and the colorful wild flowers. This forest is almost identical to the preserved land areas on my roman world. I can actually smell the vegetation, consisting of various distinctive odors. Sweet smells, sour smells, stale smells, musty smells, and a very strange and annoying smell. He suddenly noticed two large round eyes inquisitively staring at him. Now I know where the annoying smell is coming from.

Curiosity forced the short-haired female cat to move in a little closer to Apollo.

You look like some kind of feline creature, and I really don’t give a good mars what you are. I just want you to stay away from me. I’m not used to being around wild low life creatures. Most of the animals on my roman world are extinct. My tongue tells me there are many sharp teeth in my long mouth. I don’t have any hands to protect myself, so don’t force me to bite you on your tail end.

Twice he snapped his jaws at the air, but the cat continued to slowly approach. Her was thinking of running away when he noticed a bright red collar around the cat’s neck. The collar is decorated with simulated diamonds, each glittering brightly in the early morning sunrise. Hanging from her collar is a silver identification tag with a word etched on it. You’re obviously some kind domesticated creature.

Luckily large unblinking eyes are steadily staring at him.

Apollo nervously started to back away, but the large orange colored cat continued to move closer.

He, his police ship’s computer had transferred into his brain everything she had learned about the humans. Apollo could easily read the word etched on the cat’s identification tag. So your name must be Tinkerbelle.

The sound of Apollo’s little masculine voice is enticing the female cat to be more curious. Tinkerbelle cautiously walked up to Apollo, pausing for a moment to sniff his right ear, and then she started to rub her body against him, almost pushing him over with each frisky rub.

Tinkerbelle… please go away. You smell terrible.

The sound of his little bold voice saying her name was pleasing Tinkerbelle. She started purring as she affectionately continued to stroke her body against his. Around and around she pranced with her purr engine at maximum output.

Apollo walked away, but the cat followed him. He swiftly turned about and yelled as loud as he could. Tinkerbelle, please go away. Leave me the mars alone.

His outburst of anger made Tinkerbelle playfully excited. She raised her paw and gave his snout a good double slap, then she jumped over him and slapped at his tail as if it were a cotton rope to play with.

Okay, Tinkerbelle, you’re in big trouble now for assaulting a roman galactic police officer’s tail. If you slap me again, I’m going to be forced to arrest you.

Tinkerbelle decided it was time to start washing Apollo’s face with her rough tongue with long wet strokes running from his snout, across his eye, and up to his long pointy ear.

Oh for Pandora's sake, this is totally disgusting, Apollo voiced as he attempted to back away from her long wet tongue. Tinkerbelle, please go away. I’m not sexually attracted to you. Besides, I don’t think we’re the same species.

Tinkerbelle started washing Apollo’s neck and the side of his chest, slowly moving along toward his stomach. She seemed determined to wash every square inch of his little doggy body.

Okay…Tinkerbelle, you over sexed feline. Let’s see how fast you can run. Apollo took off running, dashing around huge pine trees, jumping over fallen limbs, running under the thick brush.

After more than eight minutes of high-speed running, Apollo had no choice but to stop and rest. His breathing was rapid. His heart was beating like a little gas powered engine at full throttle. His tongue felt as if it was swollen, and he was having trouble keeping it in his long mouth. He looked around for the troublesome Tinkerbelle. He couldn’t see her anywhere. He raised his snout and sniffed the air. Apollo couldn’t smell her. Thank Jupiter, he said to himself as he excitedly jumped up and down like a yo-yo. Tinkerbelle, the pain in my tail end, is nowhere in sight.

Apollo decided to sit and rest for a few minutes before continuing his journey to seek a human law enforcement officer to help him locate the mad Dr. Julius Mors.

He was about to continue on when a new unpleasant smell filled his nostrils. He turned around to see a long ugly creature staring at him with evil black eyes.

What the mars are you, asked Apollo? You look like one of the heads on a hydra dragon.

Of course, the old six foot Texas rat snake didn’t answer Apollo. It eyed him as if it’s measuring him up to see if his doggy body will pass through his unhinged mouth like a plump old rat.

Apollo quickly looked around for a weapon. He noticed a red oak tree branch lying on the ground, nestled amongst some brown rotting leaves. He slowly moved toward the stick.

The snake curiously moved a little closer. His head rose up higher. He was now towering over Apollo, looking down at him.

Apollo lunged for the two and half inch diameter branch. He bit into it, picked it up, and turned around as fast as he could. The three-foot length of branch swung around with him, striking the old snake on the left side of his head. Apollo repeatedly turned his head right and left, swinging the stick like a roman gladiator weapon.

The old snake must’ve decided Apollo was too big to eat. He slowly turned about and slithered away under some tall evergreen bushes.

Apollo dropped the branch, proudly stood tall on his four short legs, and shouted as loud as he could. Slide away you ugly coward! That’ll teach you from messing around with a roman galactic police officer.

Chapter Three

Good morning, Sheriff Blaze. Did you have a good night?

Yes, Polly, my night was tolerable.

Did you have a nice supper?

I see, Morgan nodded. So you’re the one behind Carrie’s determination to do the cooking.

Nope. Polly shook her head. It was entirely Carrie’s idea. She knows how hard you work at being a single parent. She wants to help you, so I gave her my grandmother’s Italian spaghetti recipe. My grandmother says the best way to a man’s heart is good tasting Italian spaghetti with large spicy meat balls.

Have you ever eaten spaghetti with strands varying from mushy on one end to extremely hard on the other end?

Polly giggled like a child. Give Carrie some time. She’s learning by doing. She’s only thirteen years old. By the time she’s sixteen, she’ll be cooking like a chef in a four-star restaurant.

Morgan rolled his eyes. Long before she’s sixteen, I’ll be dead from either starvation or poisoning.

I hope you told Carrie her Italian spaghetti was good.

I didn’t tell her how dreadfully awful it was. Morgan walked over to the coffee machine, grabbed the glass pot, and poured the hot brew into his favorite twenty-ounce mug.

Morgan, she’s at a delicate age where she needs positive support, especially from her father.

He took a few sips of coffee before speaking. I know what my daughter needs, and that’s why I forced myself to eat her spaghetti without telling her how awful it was.

You should’ve told her it tasted good.

"Polly, I thanked Carrie for cooking dinner and she was happy. Okay…now let’s focus on some law enforcement business. Did Aemilio leave any important notes?"

Nope, Polly answered while shaking her head. Apparently it was just another typical dreary night in Twin Springs, Texas. There were no murders, no bank robberies, no carjackings, no handsome men ringing my doorbell, and no hostages to save.

Boring!

Every morning, ever since you took the job as sheriff, you’ve been asking me the same damn question. After five months, I figured you would’ve come to the realization that unlike the big city of Dallas, Twin Springs is boring.

Do you like boring? asked Morgan.

I love boring, Polly replied, flipping her long blond hair over her right shoulder. That’s why I’ve never had a desire to live in a big city. I’m not one of those young women who believe the end of a rainbow lies in the heart of a huge metropolis. My parents raised me to appreciate a boring country life. I’d rather sit out on a porch swing and read a good mystery novel than visit a big city.

I suppose I’ll eventually get used to this mind softening boredom.

I hope it’s soon, said Polly, because sometimes you’re as irritable as my mother when she went through menopause. I understand it must be difficult to adjust from being a big city homicide detective to becoming a small town sheriff, and your new responsibilities of being a single parent is probably stressing you out. However, it’s really not good to keep your emotions bottled up inside. It'll make your adjustment more difficult. If you need to talk about anything, my pretty ears are always available.

Polly, I’ve told you before. I don’t like talking about my past.

Polly took a moment to search Morgan’s troubled eyes. Locking your past troubles up in your brain isn’t going to help your future. You need to talk about your past.

The only reason I moved to this backwoods Texas town is for Carrie’s welfare. To help her emotionally get over her mother’s death by giving her a new life away from the things that remind her of her mother, and one of those things just happens to be the city of Dallas.

Okay…okay, but the big question is...are you happy?

Morgan chuckled. Like your mother, I'm gradually adjusting to not having my monthly period.

That’s not funny, and that's not the answer I was looking for.

That’s the only answer you’re going to get.

Polly looked hard at the sheriff. You are a mysterious man, Morgan Blaze. I’ve been working for you for nearly five months, and the only stuff I know about your past is what Carrie tells me, which isn’t much. Carrie is as lock-mouthed about your past as you are.

That’s the way I like it, Morgan said in a gruff tone. I hope you haven’t been interrogating my daughter for personal information about me.

I would never do that, but I will eventually figure out a way to get you to open up. Something is deeply troubling you and you need to talk about it. It doesn’t do a body good to hold everything inside like a volcano waiting to erupt. Polly paused to shoot Morgan a displeased expression. Someday you’re going to mentally erupt and find yourself in a Dallas loony bin, right across the hall from Daffy Duck.

Morgan chuckled. You’re the one who’s driving me crazy, so maybe I better fire you before I end up playing card games with cartoon characters.

I can give you two good reasons why you cannot fire me.

And what may I ask are those?

Number one, I’m too pretty to fire, she voiced with a deliberate broad smile, and number two, the mayor of Twin Springs just happens to be my favorite uncle.

I could transfer you to nights, Morgan said while offering her a crooked grin.

Polly shrugged. I suppose you could, but if you do, from the graveyard shift I’ll haunt you like a demented poltergeist. She paused to roll her eyes upward, offering Morgan a view of the white part of her eyeballs. I’ll spin my head around and puke green slime all over your neatly pressed uniform. I’ll make your life miserable, she said in a high-pitched evil tone.

Sorry, my dear outspoken Polly, but you can’t make my life any worse than what it is.

You’re not the first person who’s accused me of being outspoken.

And I’m sure I won’t be the last.

People who bluntly express their opinions are free spirits.

Damn! Morgan ran his fingers through his dark hair. Instead of playing mind games with you, I need to find some exciting police work to do. There must be at least one criminal in Twin Springs that I can arrest.

Nope. Polly shook her head so fast her long blond hair whipped about. Today will probably be another typical boring day. I suggest if you want some excitement, you can park your cruiser up near the highway and pull over some speeders. If you’re very lucky, you might catch a wanted criminal. Maybe you’ll catch a serial killer who enjoys stomping his big army boots on boxes of Rice Krispies and Corn Flakes. We could use a few prisoners around here to help dust the cobwebs out of our jail cells.

You’re too funny. Morgan glanced around the police station. Where the hell are my other two daytime deputies?

Charlie has five traffic cases at the court house and Hector is patrolling Star Lake Estates. The demanding well-to-do impersonators with mortgages they can’t afford are bitching about speeders again.

Good. Morgan nodded his head in approval.

Oh…yes, just before you arrived, crazy Daisy Cranfield called to report her cat, Tinkerbelle, is missing. She also said while she was out in the backwoods looking for her cat, she saw a giant spaceship land. She claims a bunch of strange looking aliens came out of the ship to inspect the area. She’s afraid the aliens might eat Tinkerbelle.

You’re still being funny.

No, I’m not. The old woman was really upset about her cat. She said she spent more than half the night in the woods looking for Tinkerbelle.

Isn’t she the same elderly woman who called in a few weeks ago to complain about a ghost bull haunting her old cattle barn? She told me she’s having trouble sleeping because the bull is making too much noise.

Yes. Polly nodded. I’ve known crazy Daisy since I was a Barbie doll dependent little girl. She's a bit eccentric, totally harmless, and most people around here avoid her like an evil plague, but I’ve always somewhat liked her. I really think her cat is missing. This is a small budget town, and that’s why we’re also animal control.

Are you expecting me to go search for her damn cat?

No…no, I wouldn’t want you to do something as nice as that. However, a very upset elderly resident of Twin Springs did call the police department looking for help. I think either you or I should drive out to the Cranfield ranch to checkup on her.

Very well. Morgan sighed deeply. I’ll take a drive out to the Cranfield ranch to make sure the crazy old woman is okay. Do you want to come along?

I can’t believe mister I-want-to-be-by-myself is actually asking one of his peon deputies to ride shotgun with him.

Morgan shrugged. "Well, do you or don’t