Tales of The Astro Force

      “Phil! Can you hear me?” came the voice from Phil's communicator.

      “I’m a bit busy, Headquarters. I’m sort of caught in the slavering jaws of a giant lizard thingy,” said Phil.

      “Well get uncaught and get over here,” said the authoritarian voice on the other end.

      “Not that easy.”

      “Have you tried hitting it with your fists?” said the voice at Headquarters. Phil had to admit he had not. So he thought he should.

      “Hang on,” he said; holding his communicator in his mouth, he then let loose a volley of punches upon the snout of the lizard monster. There was a rough hacking, and spitting, and Phil was spewed out of its mouth and he landed hard with a wet thud on the cavern floor.  The giant stumbled a bit, coughed again, teetered about grasping the air as if it couldn’t see, and then fell still at Phil’s feet with a loud, dusty thud.

      “That seemed to work,” he said as he picked up his communicator, all scratched and dented.

      “Great,” said the voice at Headquarters. Now get back here because we have an assignment for you.

      “What is it?”

      “It’s Jackie. She’s missing.”

      Phil had a sudden burst of energy. Jackie Albright was the universe to him. She was his love, his only love when he was on Earth, and in her apartment. He could see her in his mind’s eye. There was a kind of telepathic connection the two had between them, but now he could feel nothing.

      “Is she dead?” He wondered aloud.

      “We don’t know, Phil. We hope not.”

      “Then it’s a rescue operation?”

      “Of sorts. It is best if you get back here pronto and we can brief you.”

      Phil jumped up onto his feet. He wasn’t about to let some twenty foot, ten ton lizard stand in the way of a rescue.    

      “I’m on it,” he said. “Phil Beauregard, captain of the Astro Force One over and out.” He shut off his communicator and put it into his saliva soaked pants pocket. A door opened in the rock wall.

      Three hooded strangers walked in slowly. They were dressed all in white and glided with an ethereal grace toward the dead monster and then stopped beside it. Phil could not see their faces, for they were hidden by the hoods.

      “Phil Beauregard,” a sepulchral voice creaked out loud from the figure in the center.

      “Yes?”

      “You seemed to have killed it,” said the one on the far left.

      “Yes.”

      There was an agonizing pause as Phil waited for what he thought was some sort of verdict.

      “Do you,” continued the voice on the left, “do you want to eat it here, or take it home?”

      “Bag it,” said Phil.