Bubble Energy Taken by Force

Battle Between the Transports

Closer and closer he approached the red Volkswagon Beetle until computer alerted him that the directional radar registered it directly below—far, far beneath his feet. He could barely see the thread-sized road, let alone the car.

"Hey, something is going right for a change. We got them."

"What do you want me to do?"

"Moving closer, closer. Now! Fire the mega-tron ray."

The computer asked, "What's that?"

"Flashy lights thingy that the crew of Starship Magellan like to use against the bad guys. That was a fantastic kids TV series."

"Does it hurt people?"

"OK, OK; harmless, flashy lights. Fire warning shots!"

"Firing ray," A cheap 500 lumens flashlight attached to the front and controlled by the computer lazily blinked on and off perfectly synchronized by Robo-Mentor's voice. "Pew, Pew, Pew."

No reaction from the car.

"Computer, we need a better special effects budget. Nobody's going to pay attention to these things. Do you have any weapons aboard that can disable the car?"

"Preacher Creature has a possible idea. He wants us to try using his Kingdom Sanctuary Worship Machine he was tinkering for a special music service at church. Superjet has the system installed, part of the package."

After computer explained everything, Stephen groaned, "Oh no! I don't believe this. You're kidding."

Speeding down the road oblivious to the chair flying above, the driver and front passenger focused ahead—frowns daring anyone who may get in the way. Two passengers seated in the back checked and rechecked and organized an impressive array of weapons, and scanned the side windows and back for anyone suspicious. What happened next astonished them all so completely that they froze staring at the 3 meter vibrating electrical arc writing burnt doodles on the hood. They experienced Jim's musical Tesla Coil in action, playing Amazing Grace—formal church liturgy and techno music fusion played on a mangled cassette that was eaten by the player too many times. Singing lightning approached a little too close to the antennae and exploded, briefly blinding the occupants. Sparks crackled on the dashboard, causing the radio to turn itself on at full volume. It played a conservative, right-wing talk radio station. "Not again. Turn that evil thing off," the long-haired man roared to be overheard over Michael Savage.

"I can't. None of the knobs works." He banged against the dashboard with his fists.

"Never mind. I got it." He silenced it with a bullet from his 44-magnum revolver. A movement through the rear-view mirror caught his eyes. He turned around and yelled, "We got a tail. The infidel scientist, the same one who destroyed our safe house, is still chasing us. Execute the American! Revenge!"

Stephen, while staring at an assortment of long gun barrels smashing through the car's rear window, commented, "Uh, oh; I think we got their attention. I sure hope you guys spent many hours testing my force field."

"Because Jack's survivalist friend only had the .50 rifle to test your bubble, we can only theoretically warrant your safety on anything heavier."

"Great!"

A thunderstorm of lead and explosives hurled with unabated fury. They didn't bother with warning shots. To keep his flight under control, the long-suffering journalist, wincing under the brutal gun-play, had to stare at the swarming shells. He inched closer until he hovered directly over the roof. Jolting suddenly, the car lifted off the ground. The engine whined as the driver futilely tried to escape. "OK you bunch of bad guys. You either throw out your weapons or I will show you advanced aerobatics demonstrations."

"I won't be able to obey your command as causing mental distress is against my programming."

"I'm going to use the Hammerhead Maneuver; that's going to get you so airsick. Or maybe the inverted flat spin stall will do the trick. That's the worst kind. Not many pilots lived through that to describe the gut wrenching terrors..." A hail of bullets punching through the car's roof interrupted him from saying more.

"Computer, they're not buying my bluff. What's that horrible crinkling noise?"

"Overload warning from excessive load. You must release the car immediately."

Flickering brilliant flashes thundered. A hood violently ripped off the car and hurled away at hypersonic speed. The red hot metal panel sliced through a stately pine tree before disintegrating into tiny scrap pieces mixed with wood splinters. Groaning and crackling from stressed wood, a tree tore loose from the forest and slowly toppled to rest across the road.

"Yow!" he yelped as he cut the field. Released, the car slammed hard into the ground. Hubcaps tumbled away. With a burst of speed, they squealed away. "Drat, DRAT!" he cursed while shaken by the overload. "I'm not going to let you escape." He rammed into the car's side. A metal strip partially peeled away from the roof. Despite the punishing blows, they actually managed to increase the withering machine gun fire. "You're going to run out of bullets eventually." Stephen fell twenty meters behind. With a violent acceleration, he hurled into the car's rear-end and lifted the battered machine off its wheels. It slammed back to asphalt, burning tires. Smoldering muffler tumbled away. A door plowed the earth until it vanished in a puff of smoke when it destroyed a boulder two kilometers away.

Crew cut man screamed into the mike, "Help, we have an infidel on a flying lawn chair ripping apart our car. Our biggest guns have no effects against him. We need backup now. No, I will not take a antipsychotic pill."

Explosive roaring from the engine made it difficult for Stephen to communicate with the computer's limited voice recognition system. He must end the chase quickly. The death squad would show no remorse towards innocent bystanders. Luck held so far. They were alone. He didn't want to continue relying on his luck. Mercilessly, he pounded against the mangled car, but it refused to die. Ruthlessly, extremists poured armor-piercing bullets against Stephen's immaterial shields.

"Can you get Jack to quit downloading things? The sluggish controls are driving me batty."

"Sorry, it's my fault. I've been collecting telemetry and multimedia data to work out a less violent solution in stopping them."

"Never mind. Computer, I'm going to try something desperate. We're approaching a major festival. It must have several thousand innocent people. Let's try lifting up the car again. I don't care what sort of damage it may do to the Superjet's circuits."

Wheels clawed air as the driver revved the engine in frustration. The car floated to ten meters. At twenty meters the car began to violently sway. Three men dropped their guns inside and held on for dear life.

"Come on, hold together. Just ten more meters and we'll transfix them on top of a high-tension power lines tower. They wouldn't dare to try escaping from that."

Before Stephen could say anything more, the computer interrupted, "Our force field is experiencing uncontrolled destructive harmonic pulses. It's getting worse by the second. I can't disengage the car. The load is severely straining the primaries."

A dazzling blizzard of yellow sparks sprang from underneath his chair, forcing Stephen to squeeze his eyes shut. "Computer", he yelled as he lost control.