Death's Other Kingdom

[WillDexter]

25 MAY, 2055
07:20:03

On the planet below the twelve 248,000-ton Atlanta-class armored cruisers of the Confederate States Naval Space Command, six inches from Rear Admiral Rex Alexander's right eye, slaves and tyrants stomped in the public square, and screamed about rights that simply were not theirs to demand, because they were not, simply never could be, sovereign white men bearing the image of God.

"All ships," Alexander said over comms, as he sat in the center of Confederate States Starship New Orleans' Combat Information Center(CIC),"lock main batteries on target, set for ground attack. Naval Infantry, to the dropships, stand by for deployment on surface."

"Main battery tubes charged and loaded," came the report from Nawlins' gunnery officer, Master Gunner Trace Gilyard." Guns ready, solution ready, awaiting order to fire."

“Launch fighters and drones for ground-attack mission,” Alexander ordered.

“Fighters and drones a--” the ship's primary flight controller started to report, before the chief petty officer at the radar station shrieked,”quantum tunnels, won-two, zera by zers, niner-tree megamiles downrange, closing us, max av!”

“Inbounds,” Lieutenant Dalton Gaines reported from intel,”are twelce Royal Celestial Navy Vangiard-class armored cruisers; all inbounds launching drones and fighters, now closing us, two-seven-tree teramips analogous veloc—oh, hell, we've got inc--”

New Orleans' 2,250 2.5mm, rotary-barrel accelerators, controlled by the Auxiliary Control team, intercepted the storm front of 120- and 400-pound shot flying toward the Confederate cruiser squadron at an actual velocity of 99.999% of light speed, instantly fragmeing that ordinance, while Quartermaster Ronald Calhoun jinked and burned hard in an effort to evade.

Even fragments of tungsten-depleted uranium(turanium)relativistic penetrators travelled at near-light velocities; thus, they could still do damage if they hit.

CIC exploded, shuddered, went dark, burst into flame, and shrieked like the damned, as several fragments impacted New Orleans, and ripped through its hull.



25 MAY, 2055
07:21:00

Via the Brain-Computer Interface chip(BCI) secured by a tape-carrier package to the base of her skull, Lieutenant Commander Petra Moss unleashed the firepower of Her Majesty's Starship Heart Ot Oak's eight, prow-mounted, quad-turreted eighteen-inch relativistic-velocity accelerators into the dozen arrow and twin nacelle hullforms in a reciprocal orbit from the twelve 225-kiloton Anglo-Swedish Royal Celestial Navy Vanguard-class dreadnaught cruisers of 420th Cruiser Squadron.

The RCN cruiser squadron maintained a normspace velocity of 16.8 klicks per second(kips), equal to Canaan's escape velocity, and greater than Thalassa's own escape velocity of 13.44 kips, allowing the Anglo-Swedish cruisers to continually transit in and out of a one- thousand klick(kiloklick)quantum tunnel precisely two hundred ninety three billion times every second, for a total analogous velocity(av) of 293 terakips, while the Rebs struggled to accelerate to planetary escape velocity to enable use of their Tavernier quantum tunnel generators.

Most of the 320 four-ton rounds were fragmented by the Reb warships' interceptor guns, those fragments then riddling the hostile machines with glowing holes stem to stern.

Four of them, however, struck home fully intact, removing from space and time four enemy cruisers in roars of white-hot light in the ship's master holoprojector, three other Reb warships falling deadstick into Thalassa's upper atmosphere.

"Marines to the dropships!" Rear Admiral Phyllicia Wallace ordered over comms. "Flight deck, Combat, stand by to release drop pods. Comms, send to Argus: 'fighters will leave off their opposite numbers, and support the Marines; drones to continue screening us against hostile ordinancee, drones, and fighters.'”"

“Comm sent, Skipper,” Leading Hand Jeanette Marchon reported from comms.

"Combat, Flight deck," Executive Technician Penelope Smalls' holo reported from six inches in front Phyll's right eye."Marine regimental landing team loaded aboard dropships, dropships loaded into mass driver tubes, and firing. Drop pods in position, opening flight deck doors."

From Oak's wedge-shaped lower prow, nine 300-ton Comet.AC7 dropships. Each holding a troop of 100 Royal Celestial Marines. bulleted toward the surface of Thalassa, followed by a gentle rain of cylindrical drop pods, some actually containing cargo, others decoys holding only monowire-wrapped subkiloton antimatter thermonuclear(skat) charges, descended from the ventral flight deck doors just aft of the prow.

At the same time CIC momentarily went dark, the holo of the ship's starship engineering officer, Lieutenant Commander Margaret Baker, reported "Combat, Engineering. Radiators two, four, and seven shot away; internal heat eighty degrees, rising! Primary electrics 45% disrupted. All damage being made good."

"Copy," Phyll, her long blonde hair plastered to her head by sweat, replied.

"Quantum tunnels, won-two, " Executive Warrant Officer Kylien Jones reported from the radar station,"zera by tree, won-five-zera megaklicks downrange, closing on intercept, launching fighters and drones.

Fighters and drone lifting from planet surface, closing us, 12.2 kips, accelerating, upcycle imminent."

"Combat, AuxCon, " Sub Lieutenant Shanise Wren reported from the ship's Auxiliary Control Center." Interceptors taking inbound fighters and drones under fire," as Heart Of Oak's 2,250 interceptors struggled to deal with inbound 50- ton Warhawk combat drones and 150-ton War Eagle heavy fighters, at the same time the ship's executive officer, Commander Electra Gant, juked and burned hard during the brief intervals in normspace.

25 MAY, 2055
07:23:18

At the center of the Panopticon, Matthew Corneilus, Anointed President of the Lord God's own New Confederate Order, stood, watching cam feeds from patriots throughout the free and sovereign soil of the True America.

What he saw, for the most part, made the Messiah of New Israel happy, as everything from so-called peaceful protesters being disciplined by sovereign white men and their dogs in the streets of Fort Valley, Georgia, to patriots auditing some greasy-haired hashslinger in a Papa Joe's in Sherman, Texas, punishing the slave's repeated lying denial of the basement where deviants groomed children for sex, vaxxed them with mRNA gene therapies, and indoctrinated them in evilution, globe earth, heliocentrism, and space, it all played on the floor to ceiling holoviewers lining all four walls of this central room of the Temple in New Jerusalem.

Then, there were the holos from Thalassa, in the 61 Cygni system—or just beyond the Antarctic ice wall, so the narrative ran--both from the square outside the Temple in the capital city of Naxos, to the scene in near-planetary space, and throughout the system.

Ten squadrons of RCN warships, an entire battle group, were rampaging across said system, destroying infrastructure, including the starmines and dockyards orbiting the pair of bright orange stars, and taking out Naval Space Command warships and transports with apparent impunity, while swarming the 750-megaton Joint Mobile Operations base in the system's Kuiper belt.

A squadron of 420,00-ton Virginia-class starships of the line(starliners) closed the Brit cruisers in orbit, only to be jumped by another squadron of enemy armored cruisers well short of main-battery range of their intended targets, while still more ships launched from the JMOB CSS Deo Vindice, even as Brit starliners laid siege to it.

The tyrants and slaves had made their anointed masters and sovereigns come after them in the space which the white Christian man, to protect himself, had declared a doctrine of demons.

His people, following the Third American War of the 1920s and 30s,had destroyed even the idea of space and space travel, stomped out every trace of evilutionism and scientism, redoubling those efforts, first, when the damned Allies had put humans on the Moon in the late 1940s, then, when Project Chiron paved the road to the stars in the late 1960s and early 1970s, beginning with the exploration and ultimate colonization of Alpha Centauri Bravo's second planet, Canaan.

Almost ninety years later, they'd only grown more willful, prideful, rebellious, colonizing ten other worlds, even terraforming a comet, and they falsely took their so-called achievements, made possible only with technology they'd stolen from their betters, following the almost two decades of social and political upheavals resulting from their fake influenza pandemic and destruction of the Grand Old Republic, to mean they, a degenerate, inferior race, were somehow better than the white man who'd made them from his rib, and had given them everything through his blood, sweet, toil, and tears, and, they justified posing an intolerable threat to God's Anointed, and everything they, the People had built.

And, the white man, who now had everything the way he wanted it, the way it was supposed to have been all along, simply would not lie down, and let himself be replaced by the lesser races and their tyranny of equality.

If need be, he would die first, and drag his enemies down with him.

[WillDexter]

25 MAY, 2055
07:25:40


"GIVE US VOICE! GIVE US A VOICE!" the children below him childishly shrieked, as they stomped their feet, and the pigs began giving way.

At the top of the Temple steps, Demobstrable Truth, born Terry R. Eichert, guided his half dozen Canon P2000 camera drones via telepresence, making slight mental adjustments to keep the peaceful protesters—as if Radical Left Socialist thugs could ever be peaceful-- in frame, while other patriots swarmed the square, and with fists, chains, ballbats, dogs, boots, and tools, administered discipline to the procreator, the fornicator, the slave, the harlot, and the child grooming sodomite, as M4A4 Leonidas main-battle tanks disgorged squads of Confederate Legion armored infantry to cordon off the area.

Demonstrable Truth grew harder and harder, as his cameras recorded and livestreamed this in the name of transparency, the 34-year old man clutching a length of barbed wire in his leather gloved hands, as he set his drones to follow him, then waded into the crowd to administer some discipline of his o–

Fuck!

Goddamn fucking tyrants!

Goddamn fucking Fascists!

Shifting silvery, powered-armored figures dropped from the sky, right into the middle of the crowd, and began ripping into patriots left and right with hundred-caliber heavy accelerators and the occasional forty-millimeter tribarrel .

And, to his mounting horror, Semonstrable Truth realized they weren't the only ones.

Soon, every one of the fat, lazy, ,baby-killing, child-grooming demons, possessed by the Jezebel spirit,had a weapon, several more of their kind handing them out from a squat, greenish cylinder which had landed at the foot of the Messiah, Billy Sunday's 900-foot golden statue, Demonstrable Truth dropping the barbed wire, and unslinging the Enfield M12 fifty-caliber heavy accelerator from his back, and ripping apart as many subhuman, subnormal freaks as he could engage.

Which was easy at first, as many of the dumb bitches just fucking looked at the guns in their hands, but, it didn't take long for that to cha–

25 MAY, 2055
07:31:33

"Fuck's sake, girlie!" Colonel Adele Lazenby shouted at the child holding an L22A7 5.56mm accelerator rifle in her frail hands."Point the sodding thing at one of them, and shoot, for the love of Christ!*

The weapon had a manual ttigger to allow her to do precisely that, and she did, Del spraying 180 degrees of arc with buzzing blue fire from her L24 heavy accelerator, 250 rounds of 2.5-kilogram turanium per second making a hell of a mess, as it tore through Reb wanksponges at three kilokips

Another steady stream of blue-hot heavy accelerator fire plowed into the front glacis of a Leonidas, gutting the armored ground-effect vehicle and sending crew, embarked troops, and internal spaces whooshing out in a jet of hot plasma, as Del gathered One Section, One Ytoop, First Battalion of Osk's three battalions of Her Majesty's Royal Celestial Marines to her, and followed the signal now being transmitted to her No. 5 Powered Combat Dress..

More two-fivw mikw mikw ripped through the front end of a bright red pickup truck with way too many overarmed patriots hanging from its open cargo section, front end and cab disappearing in a bloody metal spray, before a round penetratedall the way to the petrol tank on the vehicle's rear, detonating it.

Screaming and burning, the patriots in the bed of the vehicle sprang from its remains, and charged Del and her Marines, Del, in turn, shredding them, as she closed the source of the signal.

"Six," said Executive Warrant Officer Melanie Cable over troop tactical network,"Six-One-Ten. Resistance reporting they are at the pod, offloading contents, but coming under heavy fire."

By now, One Section had been joined by Four Section, as they approached the alleyway where the pod, one of many, had landed, the sounds and flashes of gunfire audible and visible all round said pod.

A quick check of tacnet showed Two and Ten Sections at the other end of the alley, poised to make entry.

The troop's Ten Section was a heavy gun section, with remotely-conttolled five-inch Tampella accelerators on robotic, ground-effect carriages.

Nodding, Del said,"we'll come at 'em from both sides. Ten Section will send their guns in first."

25 MAY, 2055
07:34:10


"Four-Twentieth and 422nd CruRons joining battle," Executive Warrant Officer Swathu Singnamala reported from HMS Bucephalus' radar station, as Lieutenant Commander Christina Plum's ten, prow-mounted, quad-turreted 18” accelerators killed a squadron of Dezzie Rockwell-class starliners attempting to deploy from the mobile base's stardock, the JMOB's forest of interceptors fragmenting two successive 400-round salvos from the 400-kiloton Carolus Rex-class starliner's main battery, and Commander Martyn Palmer kept his ship juking and burning hard during it's brief interludes in norm, in order to avoid the Reb mobile base's equally-numerous 18” accelerator turrets.

"Wondering what took you so long, babe," Commodore Margaurite Dermond commented, as Bucephalus fell on still another squadron of enemy machines, these being Argentine Republic Armada Estrella Belgrano-class dreadnaught cruisers,and removed them from the sky in a single volley, Martyn then wrenching his ship violently around to keep the Dark Horse in the immediate battlespace, while Tina's next volley ,intertcepted and fragmented, scoured gun turrets, inyerceptor batteries, and radiators from the surface of the JMOB, ruptured four of its ten monstrous drive nacelles, and tore deep into the screwdiver-shaped hull's stardock, everything within it instantly vaporized into white-hot plasma bleeding from the gaping wound in its belly.

In the ship's master holoptoj, the Old Oak cut sharply across Bucephalus' bow, killing a pair of Eoman Guillo Ceasare-class starliners gunning for him, while Sub-Lieutenant Artemis Klein's interceptors made short work of the swarm of F-41 War Eagle heavy fighters and QF-12 Warhawk combat drones descending on Heart Of Oak with five- and eight-inch r-guns blazing.

"Thanks, sweetie," Phyll's holo said.

"You're not getting out of taking me dancing that easy, ba–" Rita started to quip in reply, before CIC trembled, then briefly went dark

*Combat, Engineering," came Lieutenant Commander Portia Cullen's prompt report " Radiators three, four, and eight shot away; internal heat ninety degrees, rising. Engineering team and automatics working to repair."

"Copy," Rita replied, as Dark Horse's interceptors scrubbed the immediate battlespace of enemy drones and heavy fighters.

25 MAY, 2055
07:36:00

"Stardock and industrial sector destroyed," a petty officer reported, as more of CIC fell down around Admiral Lawrence G. Moore's ears.

'Goddamnit," another enlisted watchstabder had the bad manners to remark, just before Moore drew his M11 7.62mm accelerator pistol, and removed the blasphemer's head.

"Language,you assholes!" the masree pf the CSS Deo Vindice screamed, as Naval Infantry dragged the headless corpse to the chrysalises deeper within the JMOB's interior, so that the blasphemer would know second death and hell as one of them, while CIC once again trembled, and shook itself apart.

"All surface installations, " Vice Admiral William Logan reported," all main batteries, all interceptors, all fighter launch facilities destroyed."

This time, after CIC convulsed, and a harsh, buzzing klaxon reverberated through the red-lit space.

"Engineering, Combat?" Logan queried.

"Engineering, Combat, report!" Logan then repeated.

"Total conversion core's going ice-hot," he reported."Looks like everyone in Engineering bought it, when core containment was damaged, and the space flooded with radiation. All hands to escape stations, evacuate the facility! You! Try and shut down the reactor remotely!"

"No joy, Admiral!" the weak, neuroyic excuse for a chief engineer's mate was indecently quick to report."Controls not responsive, attempting to vent lide and anti-lide to space!"

A crack appeared in the deck underneath Moore's feet, as CIC trembled, and the walls literally started closing in, the main holoviewer, before dying in a shower of sparks, showed three, four more squadrons of League warships dying in quick succession.

As Moore struggled to stay on his feet, all of CIC went dark, and stayed dark, even the emergency lighting failing, as the room continued getting smaller.

"Am unable to vent lide and anti-lide," the chief engineer's mate reported in the gloom. "Reactor will reach implosion criteria in–"

[WillDexter]

25 MAY,2055
07:36:00

"The fuckin' nerve," Adam "Level Earth Observer" i Fe\ remarked in Mister Astro Theology's You Tube live chat." Still promotin' their pandemic charade , even after we exposed their lies and deceit, time and again."

"Ain't about the truth!" exulted Marcus " Arkangel4Truth" Clemons, as he vectored ten rounds of fifty-calibet hardball into the slaves and tyrants loading a '22 Kenworth KW1500 three-quarter ton pickup down with toxic vax.""Bout control, 'bout tyranny!*

*Indeed it is, Brother Man,* Dustin “Deznat” Kingsley remarked, as he floated six inches from Arkangel's right eye." About the groomers using targeted mRNA gene therapies on children in order to bring about white genocide and the Great Replacement."

"Yeah," Arkangel4Truth remarked, as a quartet of bright blue flashes ripped through the patriots trying to resist Rothschild corporate tyranny, and hold onto the True American Republic.

"Git 'em!" he screamed, finally letting Jake, his scaly, twin-headed, mace-tsilled dog, off the chain, the six-legged creature leaping into the air, both sets of jaws slavering, as sharp teeth closed around the thr–

"BITCH!" Arkangel screamed at the silver-armored butch who'd turned the animal he'd raised from a pup into a rain of chunky salsa.

*All part of the elites' plan to restore the United States of Socialist Amerika and its so-called New Global Order," Santos Bonacci sagely observed, as the tyeants finished loading up the pickup, and it roared into life, barrelling down the alleyway toward Arkangel and his surviving fellow patriots.

Without even thinking about it, Arkangel4Truth leapt in front of the vehicle, took aim, then f–

25 MAY, 2055
07:37:32

Corporal Marnie Kovacs hosed the scruffy little yobbo with the 12.7mm heavy accelerator out of the gas burner"s way, allowing the elderly vehicle to peel off screaming into the street ahead, Ten Section's big guns turning on their vector jet carriages to provide support for as long as the vehicle remained in range.

The flying wing of the 1/1st Troop's Comet dropship then cast its shadow over the alleyway, its central eight-inch turret covering the area below it, as a cable ladder dropped from the opening ventral airlock

"Everyone else aboard, and secured, Six,” Buffer Cable said via tacbet,” battle group in orbit, awaiting extraction."

"Let's not keep them waiting, " Del replied." Four Section, you're first up the ladder, so sodding move!"

Marnie's ten Marines rapidly ascended the ladder, Marnie herself covering her girls, til she the was the only one of Four Section remaining, Color Sergeant Amanda Udoh's Two Section the covering Marnie, as she made her way to the relative safety of the dropships, Amanda's Marines then scrambling one by one up the ladder, while Ten Section brought their heavy guns up to form a perimeter round the extraction point, and One Section started up the ladder, Del remaining on the deck til the last possible moment, before shouldering her weapon, jumping on the ladder, and climbing like a mad monkey onto the dropship's troop deck.

"One Section aboard and secured," she said, as she secured herself in the drop seat, then waited for the subjective eternity for Ten Section to make it up the ladder, and into their drop seats.

"Ten Section aboard and secured," Buffer Cable reported, adding, a moment later," Guns aboard and secured."

"Pilot, get us the f–" Del started to order,before Master Pilot Officer Tess Callaghan kicked them all in the teeth with a two-hundred grav burn from the torch which had them aboard the Old Oak and secured on the flight deck in less than no time.

25 MAY, 2055
07:38:30

"All Marines aboard and secured," AB Comms Jeanette reported "All ships report ready for departure."

"All ships, vector for Canaan, max av." Phyll ordered. "Four-Two First,Four-Two-Fourth, Four-Two-Seventh, Foue-Two Eighth, and Four-Two-Ninth will assume point; we'll cover your out.

"Copy," Rita replied, as Bucephalus and her half of the 42nd Heavy Battle Group fled toward Canaan at 293 terakips av, with Heart Of Oak and the remaining machines following close behind.

25 MAY, 2055
07:38:30

"Ow," her six-year old patient interjected, rubbing the spot on her upper right arm where the pneumo had poked her.

Brittany Andersen then ran her medigauntlet's sensors over the girl at the same time she remotely activated the blood pressure cuff on the her patient's upper left arm, checking vitals, making sure the flu vaccine had no initial ill effects.

"Right," the 21-year old Resistance-trained street medic said,"stand up for me."

The little blonde thing, half-starved, dressed in a raggedy-ass grey dress a size or two too big, gingerly stepped down off the exam table, and stood in the small back bedroom of the makeshift clinic, Brittany taking a standing blood pressure, while continuing to run the medigauntlet over the girl, carefully monitoring the results via BCI.

"Right," she decided, removing the blood pressure cuff," go in the next room, and sit perfectly still for the next hour. We've got food there, nothing fancy, just bug juice and peanut butter sandwiches, might even be some cookies left.'

"Thank you," the girl said quietly, before passing a woman who might"ve been thirty or eighty, God knows, on her way to the door.

"If you start feeling bad, let someone know, hear?" Brittany then said to the girl's back, as the older woman sat on the exam table, and let Brittany put the cuff around her upper eight arm.

"Any fever, chills, nausea, shortness of breath?" Brittany asked, as she took a blood pressure reading, and ran the medigauntlet over her next patient.

"None of that," the woman replied, before asking," how long y'all think it'll take for them to find this place out."

"Don"t know," Brittany honestly answered, not wanting to think about ending up being black bagged and in a freezing dark cell suffering the tender mercies of a fucking--

She swallowed hard, flinching.

"Sorry," the woman remarked.

"No need to apologize," Brittany hastily said." Stand up for me; I need to take another blood pressure."

She breathed deep)y, as she took the standing blood pressure, forcing herself not to think how much worse it would be for her were she to be black bagged again, as even knowing how to apply a band aid was an unforgivable act of resistance to the white Christian man and his True American Republic, had been since the 1920s.

She couldn't think about that right now.

Right now, she had a job to do.

[WillDexter]

02) Walking On the Water


25 MAY, 2055
07:38:30

The archeologists entered still another Gothic-style building with a double-headed eagle carved into its stone arch, more eagles and gargoules standing vigil on thewalls.

Doctor Selena McKinstra, head of the Allied scientific mission on Rigil Kentaurus' sole terrestrial world—apparentally called Kobol by its former inhabitants---stood in the mission's control center, watcging as the fifteen members of the archeological team picked their way up a steep flight of stone steps littered with human skeletal remains.

Somewhat human skeletal remains, some having an arm too many, appendages growing out of their shoulders, and the like.

A recurring motif on this planet, from the time the Chiron 13 mision team had first put boots on the ground, back in 19--


With no warning, a whistling white light washed over everything, then everything...just...stopped.

Then, the light and the whistling disappeared, and everything started up again.

Including the alert klaxon, Jorden Blakeslee, manning the workstation controlling the network of early-warnung satellites seeded throughout the Alpha Centauri A system, shouting,”seven quantum tunnel signatures, high planetary orbit!”

“The hell?!” was Selena's first reaction, as, by treaty, access to the system was restricted to the scientists sent there to solve Kobol's many mysteries; even its existence was supposed to have been secure, compartmentalized information, same with Chiron 13's inital exploiration of Kobol.

“Seven vessels,” Jordie replied, feeding telemetery from the orbital EW satellites' cameras to the master holoproj,”unknown types, massing between 190 and 500 kilotons...and, they're firing on one snother...”

A saucer, cylinder, and two outriggered, cylindrical nacelles was twisting and turning at an analougous velocity of 9.9 megakips, lashed out at grey, vaguely avian hulls, five with two rectangular, underslung nacelles, one with three, with bright blue directed-energy beams, streaking yellowish energy projectiles, and missiles with thermonuclear warheads, more pulsing blue beams intercepting missiles from the other five craft, as bluish bolts from their nacelles struck...something surrounding the first ship—painted mostly white—in a spherical arc.

“Uploadng twkwmwtry,” Aidan Banner reported from comms,”to Joint Admiralty on Canaan.”

24 MAY, 2055
07:38:35

"Skipper!" Bucephalus' intelligence officer, Lieutenant Commander Yanet Aguilera cried out, as the master holoproj showed a brilliant white flare where Rigil Kentaurus used to be, and a high-pitched whistling came over the CIC speakers.

'Number One, alter vec," Rita ordered."Comms, inform Heart Of Oak, then alert the Joint Admiralty on Canaan. Continuous tactical transmission.

"CTT aye,"AB Comms Sorsha McDonoudg reported, at the same time Martyn replied,"altering vec, maintaining max av."

The white flare faded as quickly as it had come, leaving the Alpha Cwntauri Alfa system as it had been before.

Swathi reported "Whatever just happened, not even Q-radar knows with any certainty; the flare's light appeared to have travelled faster than light, lasted zero elapsed time, and had an energy output of precisely 10,344 yottajoules, or six raised to the power of six, raised again to the power of six."

"Yeah," was all the reply Rita could manage, before Swathi reported again."Quantum tunnels, seven, zera by twenty-tree, vectoring away from Kobol...niner decimal niner...megakips av; we're closing to gun range."

"Veaaels are unknown,” Yanet reported, as six grey, predatory birds fired bolts of besam-riding plasma energy at thee white ship.”White ship and the smaller birds mass 190 kilotons apiece, the larger bird masses 500 kilotons; vessels firing beam-riding plasma, either beams or pulses, gamma-particle projectiles, and missiles with antimatter-catalyzed thermonuclear warheads.

They also appear to be protected by plasma shielding and point-defense beam weapons.”


"Unidentified vessels off my bow," Rita challenged over comms," I am the warship Bucephalus, of Her Majesty's Royal Celestial Navy; you are in a system declared off-limits, per the Rigil Kentauris Treaty, and uoi ordered to stand down your vessels, surrender your commands, and prepare to be boarded."

The largest of the grey raptors disengages the white ship, and charged Bucephalus, missiles flying, guns blazing, instead.

Then, he was gone, leaving a searing afterimage, even as CIC dimmed, ans his missiles were shot down by thw ship's Shield Maiden.QF12 drones well short of the ship.


“Combat, Engineering,” a bemused Petra reported, while the five other birds bire down on the Dark Horse, opening fire with all weapons simoultaneously.”Two energy bolts struck the armor, nil penetration, no damage.”

“Remaining energy bolts,” Yanet observed,”seemed to have been stopped by our interceptor fire.”

25 MAY,2055
07:38:35

"Radar," Commodore Randall Buchanan ordered, as the Alpha Centauri Alfai system flared incandescently in Celrdtial Kingdom Starship America's main holoviewer," scan the phenomenon."

"Irrelevant," Vice Admiral William Keithkey pontificated, as he stood at the center of the Celestial Legion JMOB's CIC. "We've been diverted to 61 Cygni, and we will go nowhere near the Alpha Centauri trinary."

"Unfortunately,' he added, clearly disappointed at being diverted from operations in the Cor Caroli system in hopes of, at last, leading the cleansing of Canaan, then diverted, again, by the Prophet himself, at the last moment.

" The Office of Domestic Tranquility may find some interest in the phenomenon," was Buchanan 's reply, putting a fine point, though not too fine, on his true loyalties, and the priorities of those to whom he owed that momentary loyalty.

"Fucking Scientism cultists," was Keithley's disgusted mutter, the man not once turning to face Buchanan directly.

“I understand, Commofore,” he said aloud,”your kind's worship of false idols for the necessary evil thst is, that the One True God and His Fifteen Apostles only permit your existence, so it can be used by we, the People, as a weapon to destroy Our Enemies and His.

Do not exalt yourself, or your false gods above the He who permits you to live in the first place.”

"Approaching 61 Cygni heliosphere," the master chief quartermaster at the helm reported, as the orange dwarf binary began filling up more and more of the expansive main holobiewer.

Soon, they were close enough to see broken hulls and the shattered remains of the Deo Vindice drifting amongst the asteroids and minor planets of the system's Kuiper belt.

"Helm,' Keithley ordered," downcycle to norm. Celestial Legion Third Fleet and N.V.O. Twelfth Fleet to sortie immediately on downcycle; Weps, charge and load, all tubes. XO, sound general quarters."

Amidst the bonging and red lights of the GQ klaxon, Rear Admiral Kevin Hunt's voice boomed over the 1-MC," general quarters, general quarters, all hands, man your battle stations. Assume material condition Zulu throughout the platform, down and aft is port, up and forward is starboard!"

"All fighters and drones, immediate launch!"ordered America's CAG, Commodore Josephus Michaels, while the ops boss, Commodore Hans Georg Steiner, ordered "Celestial Third Fleet,bConfederate Twelfth Fleet, immediate sortie!!Cycling shiplock."

[WillDexter]

25 MAY, 2055
07:39:13

“--exceeds out maxdash watp as well as tac warp speeds,” Lieutenant Commander Xon reported from USS Hood's scence station, as, on the main screen in front of Captain William Eiker, the five Klink D7s charging hell for leather at one of the wedge-shaped unknown craft were all obliterated, before they'd cloed to overloaded disruptor range, their drones and their phasers stopped cold by the alien ship's point defenses.

“They also use relativistic-velovity railguns,” Xon continued,”with a yield which allows them to simply disregard our shields, due to the resulting relativistic kinetic energy to overload and burn out our shields generatorrs, even all power shunted to them.”
'”Mister Kirk,” Riker asked his first officer and weapons officer, Commander Peter Kirk,”if we overload photorps to max yield, do you think it would be possible to punch through their defensive fire, and hurt them?”

“We'd have to close to 80,000 kilometersbto--” Kirk started to reply, before he reported,”sir, M5 system diverting auxilary warp reactor power to overloading photorps.”

“Speed increasing,” the lovely Deian helmsman, Lieutenant Deiiaiah Torez.”Now Warp Factor 5, intercept cour for lead unknown ship plotted and on the board.”

“Damnit,” Riker swore...it had been the expirimental artificial intelligence system installed at Base Station K7 which gotten Hood and her crew of 450 into the messs they were in, first by attacking and mortally wounding Potempkin with live weapons during an unscheduled test of the M5's abilities, then crossing the Klingon Neutral Zone, destroying a Klink outpost, before they AI had turned control of the hip back to its captain and crew, just in time for them to be attacked by half the Deep Space Fleet.

Of coutdr Hiod had tried to run, fighting Klingons the entire time, making it as far as an unamed pulsar close to Fed space, when, a whistling white light washed over the ship, then everything stopped, then...they were here, and so was a C8 and five D7s, ready to pick things back up from where they'd left them.

“M5,” Riker ordered,”disengage.”

“Negative,” was M5's reply, as Hood drew closer to the unknown vessels.

“Speed now Warp7,” Deiaiah reported,”continuing to accelerate.”

“I am the caprain of this vessel,” Riker insisted,”and, I gave you an order.”

“USS Hood.” M5 replied,”lost with all hsnds on the Klingon border, 30 April, Y168. Riker, William T., Captsin, is legally dead; I do not take orders from the dead.”

“Main phaser banks charging to 120% of capacity,” Kirk reported.

Riker flipped the power swich on the M5 control unit on the arm of his chair.

Damn thing didn't shut off.

“Engineering,” he then said over the intercom.

Nothing.

A glance at the indicator on the right arm of his chair showed it to be dead.

“Speedcnow Warp 8.6,” Deiaiah reported,”continuing to ncrease.”

“Engineering,” Riker said, this time into his communicator.

“Engineering,” Lieutenant Commander Tom Paris' voice replied,”Paris here.”

“I don't care what you have to do, Mister Paris,” Riker replied,” but I wa--”

The distinctive whine of a phaser set to kill came over the communication speaker.

Followed by the throaty chuckling of Hood's]/i] records officer, Lieutenant Jean-Luc Picard.

An old Klingon proverb, Captain,” he said with a sneer in his voice.”'revenge is a dish best served cold. ' I understand it is quite cold in space...though, where you're going, it will be hot enough.

Picard out.”

25 MAY, 2055
07:40:19

"All tosh and bollocks," was Level Earth Observer's sage wisdom on the subject of the winter storm gripping much of Earth's Northern Hemisphere."Pantomime, the lot of it. "

"Climate change," he snorted.' Man made climate change. Just a load of old shite; the globalists planned this, with chemtrails, an' Project HAARP, they planned this, mateys, targeted the New Confederate Order an' the Celestial Kingdom of Deseret, then cut the electrics to 'alf the bloody continent, just to make us suffer til we're ready to just give up, an' let the Socialists groom our children, force fred us targeted mRNA therapies soy, and GMOs, an' lose everythin' we are, everythin' we worked for, to their Rothschild corporate, Socialist tyranny."

"The proven science of gematria," Zach Hubbard, aka Gematria Affects News, them spoke up in the live chat,"proves it. Today's date gives two very important numbers: 25 and 55. In gemsttia, which has been proven accurate in scientific study after scientific study, 2555 is JIEC, ot YEC, the Hebrew name for the Enemy–"

'That is not the Hebrew word for deceiver," some poor sod had the temerity to reply,"that word is nashua, while JIEC stood for–"

"I see we have a sheep amongst us, brainwashed in one of the Cabal's indoctrination centers, soy-fed, genetically-modified–" Just Kyle cut the soon to be poor unfortunate off, Daniel Pratt ROE cutting JK off with "—and is obviously demonically possessed.

Another globagandist hate preacher spreading cointelpro disinformation."

"His name," Bryan "Cameras Of Mass Destruction" Cousins then said," is Jay Adler, 325 North Bullard Street, Dodd City, Texas. He's a sales clerk at the Harley Davidson store off of US82 in Paris, owns a double wide trailer house on an acre of land, surrounded by trees," a pic of the house in question now occupied one of the holofield's foreground windows," he drives a grey 2037 Blue Bird 350 sedan, and owns five slaves, four of them children."

"Open season on the tosser," LEO declared

"Open season," Santos Bonacci, whose livestream this was, agreed." A hundred million Confederate dollars for whoever hunts down, and brings to justice this Jay Adler prick, a hundred million dollars, plus his slaves and other personal property. Deo vindice.

"DEO VINDICE!,” the entirety of the Internet thundered, as Lieutenant Darla Garrison sighed, sipped her beaker of black coffee, and resumed her vigil of the street ahead.

Fourth or fifth time that red '33 Cobalt's passed by, Darla silently observed, the 23-year old Marine Recon operator reflexively checking her L22A7, as the banger in question slowly cruised past the house where the Resistance operated a black clinic

Don't see a cam drone, she thought, but that, in itself isn't cause to relax, especially after the raid's got the whole soddin' planet on edge…

She trailed off, the banger moving even more slowly, as it came back down the street, startling a mangy, two-headed, two-tailed cat out hunting for its breakfast.

"B-baby?" Brittany stammered, as she stood beside Darla by the bay window of the living room.

"Whatever that car's up to, luvvy," Darla assured her,as the ancient gas burning motorcar pulled up to the curb in front of the house,"we'll know in just a sec–"

A scruffy little man in a rumpled olive drab field jacket then walked up to the passenger side of the vehicle, and got in.

A moment later, a blue flash lit up the interior of the car, and the now-headless passenger, smoke still curling up from where his neck used to be, was dumped out onto the curb, the passenger door slammed shut, and the car drove off down the street.

"Sod," Darla then remarked, as the cat from before fought several other similarly-mutated felines over who had first dibs on the corpse.

25 MAY, 2055
07:40:19

“Kirk to Auxiliary Control,” Commander Petr Kirk spoke into his communicator.”Take control; now, before--”

His weapons station promptly went dead, every other bridge station quickly following suit, Lieutnant Thilel Shran's voice replying,”Auxiliary Control has the ship, Mister Kirk; M5 completely locked out. “

“Slow to impulse,” Kirk ordered,”lock down Auxiliary Control; no one in or out. Marines to Engineering, apprehend Mister Picard, use of deadly force authorized.”

“Well done, Numbr One,” Riker remarked, as Hood dropped out of warp less than 80,000 kilometers from the over one hundred unknown ships closing them at ultra-high warp.

“I was lucky, sir,” Kirk lied, knowing full well Hood's]/i] original computer system and the auxiliary control systems were kept out of M5's influence by K&'s techs as a precautionary measure.

“Mister Rand,” Kirk then addressed Ensign Janis Rand at the comms station,”hail those unknown ships.”

“Aye, sir,” Rand replied from her station at AuxCon.

“Mister Xon,” Kirk then ordered,”get down to Engiineering, hack M%, and wipe it clean, every kilobyte, and, if that doesn't work, set phasers to full power, and remove the damn thing.”

“Aye, sir,” Hood's science officer replied, before leaving the bridge.

“I have the commander of the unknown ships on comms,” Rand's voicce said over the communicaator.

“Patch it through to Captain Riker's communicator, if you would, Mister Rand,” Kirk replied.

25 MAY, 2055
07:42:12

“This is Captain Willian T. Riker,” a deep, masculine voice said over comms,”commanding the Federation starship Hood.”

“Captain Riker,” Phyll replied,”I am Rear Admiral Phyllica Wallace, officer commanding, 42nd Heavy Battle Group of Her Majesty's Royal Celestial Navy.

First, you charge hell for jets toward my ships, then, you suddenly stand down, so, perhaps your first order of business is to explain yourself.”

Silence, for a good couple, three minutes, before Riker came back on the line, sheepishly admitting to,”issues with our main shipboard computer.”

“Part of the reason,” he added,”we're here...wherever here is.”

“Alpha Centauri Alfa,” Phyll replied.”You're some 150 megaklicks downrange of the system's only terrestrial planet.”

“And,” she added, as comms fell silent once again,”a long, long way from Kansas, my dear.”

[WillDexter]

03) This Punishment Called Existence

25 MAY, 2055
07:55:20

"'And, what rough beast. Its hour come round at last,'" Fleet Admiral David ScottOmo, Junior, Chief Of Intrrstellar Fleet Operations for the North American Common Assembly, wondered aloud,'"Slouches now toward Bethlehem to be born?'"

'Funny,' is RCN opposite number, Admiral of the Fleet Craig McNeil remarked"how we' keep asking ourselves that very question throughout all human history."

"Oui," was the weary observation of Cerise Montigny, Admiral-Mrshal of the French Imprtial Astromarine, as she stared out at the rising Earth.

Omo found himself looking st what too many in the Lwague of Mar a Lago would've declared to be PhotoShopped, cartoonish, hallucinations brought on by chemtrails, holographic fakery, or, simplt the work of the Devil, though was no denial hid people were here, on the Moon, looking up at the same rising Earth, as the members of the Allied Interstellar Joint Admiralty, formerly, the Joint Interstellar Exploration Command, establidhed a littlr over a century ago to overswe Ptojrct Chiron, so soon after the Nakomis program bzc paved the way for Lunar colonization.

“After all we've done to her,” Craig whispered,”she's still beautiful to look at from here.”
Here being Joint Base Tranquility, aka Tranquility Stardock, the oldest offworld human settlement, visible from Earth-based telescopes on the increasing rare nights of dark skies.

Yet, there those amongst his people as deternined to deby two of their own had, in what was derided qw a flying ashcan, had set foot on another world, as they were to deny humans and apes—black humans, yellow humans, and white humans—were kinfolk.

"Have they been able to determine the origin of the phenomenon?” asked Marshal Wkatrina Ivanova, commander of the Soviet Strategic Space Forces.

“Kobol.” Craig answered, referring to Alpha Centairi Alfa's sole inhabitable world.”According to Admiral Wallace, it was generated from deep underneath a Gothic-style building,” whivh narrowed it down considerably,”located on the planetary equator...her ships' sensors and drones were barely able to detect a nassice artificial singularity, similar to what we use for gravity, and as containmebt for our total-conversion matter-antimatter power plants, this singularity, in turn, encased in a hyperdense metal similar to what's theorized to compose neutron stars.

It appears the phenomenon can bridge alternate realities.”

“That's...fringe science,” Admiral Hara Tomoko, commanding the Imperial Japanese Star Navy, remarked,”at best.”

“Noy anymore, it seems,” Omo replied. “What do we know about the ships that came thrpugh?”

“The one that survived,” Craig replied,”is from a 'United Federation of Planets; like the old League of Nations, but acrually able to function as a multi-national supergovernment, multi-species, as well.

The ships chasing it were from a race called Klingons, who are apparentally at war with these Feds.

Right now, that's the sum of our knowledge. Forty-Second Heavy Battle Group's been ordered to remain on station, til further notice, and this neen declared secure, compartmentalized information for the time being.”

“God knows what'll happen, if the League ever got their hands on this,” Cerise remarked,”and found out how to control it.'

“Don't know about God,” Craig commented,”but, I think we here have a damn good idea what the League would do wiyith that knowledge.”

“Not to mention,” said Omo,”what new enemies are going to come through the tabbit hole.”

“Yeah,” Craig said.

“That too.”

25 MAY, 2055
07:55:20


The Son Of Man smiled, as he watched mutant cats eating Quentin Abrams' headless corpse.

Criticism simply could not be tolerated.

His great uncle should never gotten it in his pudding head to abuse the privilege given to every white man, to attack and defame his Messiah online.

Now, the line and legacy of Joshua Abrams was well and truly extinct, family, friends, neighbors, patrons, subscribers, and, so on, all hunted down and exterminated.

Such were the wages of sin.

The Prophet of God, rightful President of the Grand Old Republic now watched patriots in Bells, Texas surround Jay Adler's car, drag him and his slaves kicking and screaming from the vehicle, and, as the slaves were being stripped, disciplined, hog-tied, black-bagged, and loaded into the back of a pickup, like a rick of firewood Adler himself was being beaten to a bloody, senseless pulp, then pissed and shit on by a group of men who then fought one another over the slaves, the car, and everything they could steal from the corpse itself.

"'Deo vindice,'" the President of the True American Republic, established by Moses and the other Founding Fathers, whispered, as the patriots who'd given Adler the justice due him settled their disputes, split up the spoils of war, and went their separate ways.

"I'm a busy man, Kennedy," the Prophet then said, finally deigning ro address his Imperial Grand Wizard, Kevin Kennedy, the eyes of the anointed Messiag of New Israel continuing to ve on the Ibternet and the world.

"I'm sure you are, Sire," Kennedy replied offhandedly."This won't take long."

Telemetry from America's radar noe appeared in one of the Panopticon'd holoviewers, documenting the wash of whistling, transluminal, white light which had briefly blotted out the Alpha Centauri Alfa system.

"What about it?* his President demanded.."Knowledge, and its control, are your job, Kennedy, not mine.'

"Yes," Kennedy remarked." Part of my job is to keep us, you–and, equally as important, them–ignorant.

It's also my job to measure out the knowledge and technology in small doses, when it benefits us.

And, it my jov to investigate thing such as this, to determine their level of threat to our way of life.”

“Yes,” the Messiah of thr the True America agreed, adding,”you have my blessing to make the usual arrangments, and investigate phenomenon more closly. Now, go.”

“Thank you, Sire,” Kennedy replied, turning on his heel, and walking away, leaving the Leader of thw Free World to watch the world go about its business in live, streaming video.

25 MAY, 2055
08:01:00


One Sectio, 1 Troop, 1st Battalion were gathered at the foot of Oak's]/i] telegate stage, as the cruiser descended to a kiloklick above the structure housing the artificial singularity.

“Combat,” Petty Officer Shea Collins said, from the local control station.”Am still having difficulty calculating a targeting solution; the metal encasing the entire chsmber's messing with even quatum radar, I can just barely scan past it.

“Take her down another five hundred meters, Number One,” the Skipper's holo replied, Electra telling her,”another five hundred meters, aye.”

“Got it,” Shea said a few moments later.”Generating telegate targeting solution...solution ready, mathematical conditions match 100%, quantum tunnel forming.”

In the dysprosium arch at the far bulkhead, a heat shimmering took form, soldified, Del, heavt accelerator at the ready, leading the way onto the stage, through through the quantum tunnel, and into a brightly lit chamber, tapestries depicting powered-armored giants and covential infantry...with bulky, rifle-stocked, man-portable directed-energy weapons...battling hordes of monstrous green giants with wicked, great tusks draped over otherwise-featureless grey metallic walls.

Even the floor was of greyish metal, though polished to a sheen, covered here and there with plush, richly-ornate rugs.

“Christ,” a startled Lance Corporal Phaedra Geddings remarked,”that'll give you nightmares.”

Del looked where the leader of her section's second five-Marine patrol was looking.

Four meters high, bruise-purple, face only a blind mother could love in a neckless head surrounded by sharp spines, and a pair of long arms ending in three long and viciously curved talons on each of those arms...

“I see what you mean,” Del remarked, as she took point, Marine Fanty Richter reporting,”singularity's one level down.”

Del nodded, as she continued farther along the corridor, brancing off into severa; rooms behind locked doors on either side, the emerging into a gallery, statues of horrors similar to the one her Marines and she had encountered earlier surrounded what looked like a glass-covered coffin in the center, a brazen altar with various bits of machinery and a pair of lit candles along the far wall, next to a spiral staircase, of the same metal as the rest of the place, leading down.

Apparentaly, the coffin, with its clear lid, was hermetically swaled, for the robed human corpse within showed no signs of decomposition.

He was human enough, though with a high forehead, sunken eyes, and distinct lack of hair, either on his face or his scalp.

“Hmm,” she interjected, eyes drawn to a largee golden gear depending from a heavy gold chain arouns his neck.

“A strange-looking pendant,” she commented, before walking away from thr coffin and down the stairs.

[WillDexter]

25 MAY, 2055
08:04:09

“--diverges from ours at several points,” Xom said, briefing the othrts in Hood's briefing room.”For example, the Swedish Empire won the battle of Poltava, abd remained in being, until the formation of the Anglo-Swedish Union in 1949, following the Second English Civil War, beegun when King Edward VIII dissolve Parliament, and asked fascist leader Oswald Moselet ro form a nre government; Edward was ulyimately deposed and replaced by Gustav V of Sweden, a direct descendant of Queen Victoria.

The United States, on the other hand, fell during the Third American, or, Second Civil War of the 1920s and 30, due to extreme reaction yo vaccination and other preventive measures, violence against union workers and reprsenatives, and attavks on racial minorities, vulminating in the Tulsa Race Massacre of 1924, and the subsequent Sequoyahan Rebellion.

Three nations would rise from the ashes of this reality's US: The North American Common Assemvly, the Celestial Kingdom of Deseret, and the New Confederate Order.”

A globe depicting this universe's Earth appeared on the briefing room viewscreen, showing all the politival divisions, plus quite a few that should've been there, but weren't.

“Where's Germany?” Riker asked.

“Germany, in this universe,” Xon replied,”hasn't existed as a sovereign nation, since the Polish War of 1940, when the Anglo-Swedish Union, the Third French Empire, under Emperor Charles I, and the North American Common Assembly, along with Poland, invaded Germany, with the aid of strategic bombing from North American Army Air Force B-36 bombers and Royal Air Force Canberra jet bombers, ss well as combined Royal Navy, Anglo-Swedish Army, French Foreign Legion, Royal Dutch and Anflo-Swedish Royal Marine operations which captured Willhrmshaven, Hamburg, Danzig, and Kiel, and Hermann Goering's National Socialist regieme; and immediately led to the Nuremberg Trials of 1943-44, in which Goerginf, his deputy ]i\Furhrer[/i], Heinrich Himmler, and the commander of the SS, Oskar Dirlewanger, amongst others, neing executed for crimes against humanity..

Control of the former Germany is divided between the Poles, the French, the Brlgians, the Dutch, the North Americans, and the Anglo-Swedish.

Also, the North American Navy's Pacific Fleet, in the first recorded use of carrier-based jet aircraft, such as the F2L-2 Airacomet fighter and, the SBJ/AJ Black Unicorn jet sttack/dive bombing platform, had advance warning, and were able to intercept and destroy the Imperial Japanese Kido Butai. in the December, 1941 Battle of Midway.

This, coupled by the firebombing of Yokosuka, Kyoto, Kure, Yokohama, and Tokoyo by B-46 bombers led by Colonel James Dolittle, compelled Japanese Emperor Hirohito, evacuated to the new capital at Sapporo, to depose the Tojo government, ask Admiral Yamamoto Isoroku to fotm a new government , and have him sur for peace; under the Treaty of Manila, Japan had to cede several of its island possessions, but, were allowed to retain Korea, Tibet and mainland China, including the Prefecture of Manchuko.”

Xon paused a moment, Riker taking a moment to glance at Deiaiah;s black stocking legs and flash of gold-pantied crotch offered by the way her gold uniform minidress shifted, as the Deian helmsman shifted uncomfortably in her chair.
The Buckner administration had begun steps toward restoring the trade in Deiian and Orion slave girls outlawed under the chairmanship of rabid misandrist and anti-Earth millitant Rahab Obuntu of Alpha Centauti.

Naturally, Orion pirate cartels and Rom agents would combine with radical Left elites, and those damn Centaurian Amazon dykes to rig the Federation Council elections, stack said Council with foaming at the mouth radical Left, socialist puppets, and prevent Buckner from being elected Chairman a second time, even though he'd enjoyed popular support amongst aliens, as well as humans, and th evidence clearly showed his lotalists had won all but one of the Council seats, especially Earth's, while old Sleepy Mike Batanov, shill of the Orions and the military-industrial complex, had failed even to win his own homeworld of Deneva.

Buckner and his allies were still fighting this in the Federation courts, when Hood's]/i] field test of the M5 system had gone pear-shaped, and dumped them here.

“--about the planet, Xon,” Kirk, too ambitious for his own damn good, asked Hood's science officer.

“Sensors indicate a human civilization once thrived on Alpha Centaurib A I,” Xon answered.”There are paved roads, canals, and buildings in what you humans call the Gothic style throughout the equatorial continent, as well as a...depression...in the center of the largest city, near the structure responsible for bringing us here.

The depression meaures 5.5 kilometers long by 850 meters wide by 1.2 kilomters deep, and could have been made by an object massing 31 million tons.”

“It's not natural, then,” Deiiah, demonstrating her usual adorable lack of intelligence, asked.

“It s not,” Xon answered.”Indications, including melting and glassing of the surrounding terrain by a very powerful, yet relative primitive fusion torch, are whatever crated that depression was artificial in origin, possibly a ship og some kind.”

“Wow,” was the stupid remark offered by assistant chief engineer, Lieutenant Sylvia Tilly, a product of enforced diversity and inclusion social experimentation by the radical Leftist matriarchs of the Obuntu administration.”We don't have anything nearly that big.”

“Neither do these humans, “ Xon replied,”from what I've been able to gather; moreover, sensors have dated the buildings, infrastructure, and the copious amount of human, and...other...skeltal remains to between two and six thousand years, while these humans have only had faster-than-light travel for 88.42 years.”

“'”Curiouser and curiouser,” said Alice,'” Tilly, whose reputation as a predator was well-known throughout Starfleet, continued prattling like the empty-headed moron she was.

Certainly, she was no Starfleet officer, let alone an engineer.

Let alone serious competition for Deiiah's heart, certainly not against a man such as Willian T. Riker, hero of Cestus III.

“--the Prime Team,” Kirk, not nearly the man his uncle had been, nattered on,”to where the source of the phenomenon?”

“We tried,” Tilly the Incompetent whined,”but the transporters simply can't beam anything in; the metal encasing it is solid neutronium, similar to the hulls of the Juggernauts we've encountered in our own time and pl--”

Mercifully, the shrill whistle from the intercom interrupted Lieutenant Silly Bitch's inane prattling.

“Ruker,” Riker said, after depressing the intercom switch at his end of the table.

“Major Renner here, sir,” the Hood's]/i] Marine detachment commander, Major Jeremy Renner, reported.”We've swept the lower engineering spaces; fifteen dead, including Commander Parris, seven more engineers in sickbay with phaser burns, and Picard's holed up in one of the starboard warp nacelle Jefferies tubes.

Sir, he has a fully-charged Phaser V pulse phaser, set to kill, and if he should fire it into the starboard main warp reactor---”

“Boom,” Tilly stupidly said, Riker deciding,”Lieutenant Fuller, your Primes will accompany me to main Engineering. We'll put a stop to this, once and for all.”

Rising from his chair, Riker checked the Phaser II holstered on his hip, theen walked out of the briefing toom, Lieutenant Bexar Full, commanding Hood's Prime team, and the only real Starfleet officer Riker had, following close behind.


25 MAY, 2055
08:08:54

"As you are aware, Admiral," Grayson Fritts, Imperial Governot-General of the Confederate State of Thalassa, told Keithley," none of you spacers are permitted to set foot anywhere on the flat, motionless, domed, infinite plane of our Earth.."

Keithley expressed his annoyance at having obvious shit repeated at him, and merely, meekly replied, "I am aware of that, Your Excellency."

It was enough of a stretch to explain Thalassa anf the other League dominions in the Outer Darkness in such a way that would not conflict with his race's firmly-hekd beliefs, including the core belief in their own supremacy, some rando on YouTube deciding, almost eighty years ago, that those worlds, as well as those illegally colonized by the Laamanite Powers were, in fact, the lands which were supposed be beyond the Antarctic ice wall, accessible only by the long-lost tech of thee Grand Old Republic and the Israelites who'd come over the Caucasus Mountains, across Europe, and from the Great British Isles to create a new Israel and a new covenant with God.

That was the explanation which been picked up by other Internet randos, and, soon, became canon, which no one, each for his own reasons, dared question.

Keithley, of course, knew the truth, having illcitly written several science fiction novels which had gained a modest following online, before the press gangs had finally caught up with him, and condemned him to space, never to return, until the day the Outer Darkness had been purged of the Laamanite infestation.

Keithley knew the truth, and he was damned never to see home again because of it, doomed to die again and again in the service of his race, if he was lucky, in the faint hope of redemption held out to all League spacers like a taler bill on a fishing hook.

It couldn't be any other way

He knew, as scientific fact, God had made the white man, and only the white man, in His image and His likeness, while all lesser races of slaves and tyrants had sprung forth from the white man:s rib, only to betray him at the beginning of time.

He had to accept that as fact; otherwise, what of him?

And, to accept that as fact meant accepting his exile from the world, and content himself with the work of cleansing all trace of thee harlot, the sodomite, the slave and the tyrant from the whole of a space that must be fake, if his race were to keep everything just the way they wanted it.

"Good," Fritts' holo said, as it stood in front of Keithley. "However, that still leaves the question of why I am lowering myself to talk to you, Admiral "

"My QMOB is short on slave labor,",Keithley explained.

"You're cleared to make the appropriate arrangements with the State's Imperial Grand Dragon," Fritts' replied huffily, before abruptly discomming.

"Buchanan," he said,"if you would "

"On the line with Imperial Grand Dragon, Admiral," Buchanan replied..

"Sir," one of the CIC watchstanders reported," have recovered last of Deo Vindice survivors."

"How many does that make?" Keithley asked.

"Nine hundred starliners, 1,300 light and armored cruisers, , 15,100 Warhawks from the JMOB's fighter detachment,' Hunt replied "What of their crews?"

Keithley withdrew a silver twenty-taler con from the breast pocket of his camo-blue BDUs, flipped it in the air,, then watched as the gravity generated by the mass of the JMOB's decks being attracted to the mass of the artificial singularity in its keel caught hold of the coin, and landed it on the deck, eagle side showing.

"Tails," he commented," just as I called it. "

*Yes, sir," Hunt replied.

"Tails, Admiral Hunt," Keithley decided." Therefore, God's will commands those crews and fighter pilots have a chance to atone for their previous failure by being the first ones we send into battle.”

“Aye, sir,” Hunt replied, as Keithley retrieved his coin from the deck.

25 MAY, 2055
08:08;54

“Companions?!” a happy, giddy, excited diembodied feminine voice startled Del by boomin out, amidst the blinding brilliance of an indescribably gigantic artificial singularity compressing equally indescribable amounts of matter and antimatter to a single point of infinite critical mass and complete energy liberation.

“No, luv,” Del said, too stunned by the sudden voice, the singularity, or its containment in such a manner as to prevent the tn Marines from becoming part of it to think about the words coming from her mouth.

“Just passing through,” she added, and, blue-scaled reptioid, in ancient armor and some kind of polearm, instantly appeared before Del.

“I am the Guardian of this Portal,” the image sadly said, in a lower register of the feminine voice from before.”You may call me Th'Kree.”

Th'Kree ighed.

“Two thousand of your years, since Garren died, and left me alone again; two thousanf lonely years, since the other gindaro oomano either left aboard the Imperial Temple, killed one another, ot, like Garren, and the creature he called Patriarch, simply aged and perished.

Garren was my Companion; six thousand years, the Others and hr came to this world. Til, I endured almost six hundred millenia of miserable, insane solitude.”

Tears ran down Th'Kree's holographic cheeks..

“I couldn't bear it anymore; I activated the Portal, hoping someone would come, find me, end my solitude.”

“Christ,” whispered Marine Mika Dubrowska.

“Yeah,” Phaedra whispered in reply.

Del couldn't even begin to imagine two thousand years' of solitude, much less, almost six hundred thousanf yeats.

Goddess above, that would drive anyone starkers, if not t suicide long before that.

To desperation, at least.

If only--

“Please,” Th'Kree insisted,”stay, talk to me, if only for a little while, Adele Conlonel Lazenby, Royal Celestial Mah-reens.”

Sodding, hell, Th'Kree could--

“I can,” Th'Kree answered the question in Del's mind,”and I apologize for not asking; it has been such a long time, and my social skills have deteriorated.”

“Please,” this immensely old, immensely lonely Guardian pleaded,”stay, talk to me, even, if only for a little while, just so I don't have to be alone.”

What could Del do or say to that?

She was human, with a human heart, after all.

What else could she do or say?

“Of course I will, luv,” she said gentlu, softly.”We all will.”

[WillDexter]

25 MAY, 2055
08:08;54

A five-thousand ton ;i'Ka'vun[/i]-class raiding frigate of the Klahrun Imperial Starmada lutked at the very edge of the Alpha Centauri systemi.

Having borne witness to events unfolding within said system, and continuing to keep vigil, the crew of the Shavalk waited patiently.

But,not for long.

"Sir," Shavalk's communicator soon reported,"communication, on the agreed upon frequency. He is ready to receive."

"Send him all our data," Third Captain Xalthan Golt instructed his sensorman.

Then, Golt, though Freeborn, was not of the Blood Imperial, mused, as he excitedly paced Shavalk's cramped command deck, then, comes the payment in dysprosium that will allow me to rise in status, maybe even own a small harem of slaves.

"All data transmitted," First Subaltern Kneg Vahr soon reported.

Nodding to his sensorman, Golt asked "Communicator?*

"We are to stand by to receive payment in full," the communicator replied.

"Well and good,'" Golt said, instructing his helm officer and second in command, First Officer Eliz Giotto,"open flight bay doors, stand by to–"

25 MAY, 2055
08:10;00

“Captains and admirals all,” whispered Lieutenant Commander Jean-Luc Picard to himself, as he carefuuly aimed his pulse phaser rifle at the bulb of the starboard main warp reactor,”except poor old Picard and his one mistake.”

“One mistake,” he repeated.

“I hardly,” came the boomong, mocking voice of Willm Riker,”call going kneeling at the Usurper's feet with your mouth open a mistake, Jean-Luc.”

“The mistake, Will,” Picard defended,”was trusting a certsin young ensign to face accountibility for leaving thr impulse relays open, anf almost blowing up the ship.”

Riker's laughter echoed throughout the narrow confines of the starboard warp nacelle.

“Accountibility?!” he said.”That's for lesser beings uch as yourself, Jean-Luc; that's why I assigned blame to you in the first place; that is your lot in life, since you could never, ever be a real Starfleet officer.”

Another chuckle.

“You're lucky I took you as part of my crew, instead of leaving you to rot aboard the Falklands, rust along with the rest of that old relic,” he said, Picard heard bootsteps on the nearby catwalk.

“But,” Riker further taunted,”every king needs his fool.”

”Not another step!” Picard shrieked.”I've got a pilse phaser rifle aimed dead at the starboard main warp reactor. Just one shot is all it will take to breach containment, and bl--”

Suddenly, abruptly, painfully, Picard found his arms violrntly wrenched nehind his back, the pulse phaser rifle clattering off into the darkest recesses of the warp nacelle.

He was held fast, and Riker introduced Picard's bald head to his boot several times, blood gushing from Picard's broken nose, and farther up his scalp, Riker kicking him several more times, before ordering Picard to “tell me you're sorry.”

“IM-i'm sorry,” Picard woozily stammerd.

“Tell me you're jealous of me,” Riker further ordered,”that you're a sad sack of shit who wishes he could be as smart, as brave, and as handsome as me.”

Riker thrn kicked Picard several more times in the head, til he finally sobbed,”I'm jealous of you, Will, because I am a saf sack of shit who wishes he were as smart, as brave, and as handsome as you.”

The person holding Picard dumped him uncerimoniously at Riker's bloodstained boots.

“Not good enough,” Riker declared.”Lick my boots.”

”Now, Jean-Luc,” he added, a beaten, sobbing Jean-Luc Picard complying with Eiker's demand.

At the same time he heard the whine of a phaser set to full po--

25 MAY, 2055
08:10;00

A 150-ton F-41C War Eagle, painted black to match the void, pumped 200-kilo shells from us three underslung eight-inch accelerators into the demon-infested starship at 0.9999c, instantly obliterating it.

They were not white men bearing God's stainless image; therefore, these demons had received all the payment they deserved for their services

Nodding, Lieutenant Micheal Woodruff first made sure the other tyrants hadn't counter detected him, before upxycling at the Eagle's max av of 273 teramips on vector for Earth.

Once in atmo, Woodruff would switch to jets,, after dowcycling to norm, and performing a hard decel burn; the Secret must be maintained, after all, that no one could travel past the dome separating the Waters Above from the Earth.

A Secret that, as an operative of the Ku Klux Klan, the Naval Space Command aviator approved of wholeheartedly, as both flat Earth and its attendant geocentric cosmology, now, as during the First Dark Age following the fall of the First Roman Empire, was core to the dogma of white racial supremacy, because if Yahweh, Yeshua, and Billy Sunday hadn't made it just so, in order for Their Chosen Race to have dominion, what did that mean for Their Chosen White Race?

Reflexively, he downcycled, and executed a two-hundred grav burn which thankfully blacked him out, before Woodruff could think any further, the Nighthawk of the Klan regaining consciousness safely inside atmosphere, just as the jets cut in to maintain the fiction of the War Eagle being an ordinary aircraft.

He was met at angels fifteen by a squadron of.twelve War Eagle-As who issued challenge to Woodruff, who, after giving the correct answer, burned down the lead bird with his trio of 25mm accelerator, one turreted, the other two in the fuselage, just so there would be no doubts about his authority, the other craft allowing him to pass, as he made his way to Andrews Confederate Naval Air Station, on the utskirts of New Jerusalem.

Once on the tarmac, a squad of Legionnairea in full battle rattle bundled Woodruff into the hot, stinking troop compartment at the rear of a Leonidas to begin the bumping, bone-rattling trip into New Jerusalem, built on the wreckage of the Grans Old Republic's capital, during the Warbof American Liberation in the 1920s and 30s.

A violent jounce later, and the Legionnaires unceremoniously dumped Woodruff on the ground, and sped off, leaving him to climb the rusty marble steps leading from the foot of Golgotha Hill to the Temple at its peak on his own.

[WillDexter]

25 MAY, 2055
08:10;00

"--which the slaves and the Cabal have tried passing off as the Constitution " Josh "Broken System Broken Trust" Lanto said, as Law Talk With Merb streamed via BCI," was clearly based on vulgar Greek and Latin texts which, themselves, were inspired by the Devil Herself."

"As Constitutional law scholars," John "Merb34st" Redfield then remarked,"the first thing we learn is never trust the written word."

"' When a man puts pen to paper, he practices to deceive,'" Corin “Straight Shooter” Daly remarked in the live chat. "Those were the very words of the Messiah, Billy Sunday, Himself."

"Indeed He said that, Brother Man," NathanOakley1980 said, as, in real time, Patriot Press, aka Joshua Greer III, approached the suspect location, his Canon P 2500 camera drones faithfully following along.

"Hey!" a Thlassa State Police enforcer shouted at Josh from the cab of his '34 Pwterbilt Sundowner SUV.

"Hey, Albion, I'm talking to you!" the Moor added.

"I don't answer questions," Josh reassured the uppity nig, as he just kept walking

A crack, and the whistling of a bullet later, the Moor informed him "you are in our territory, and I reserve a right to charge you a fee, per my fee schedule. Now, stop, before I put a lien on all your assets. All your assets."

"I have a right to travel, per Article Four of the Textus Receptus," Josh told him," and no man can charge a fee for or otherwise convert that right to a privilege. Now, leave me alone, before I put a lien on all your assets.*

*You ain't my daddy, Albion bitchboy," was the Moor's reply." I am a sovereign white man bearing the image of God, and I answer to no other man! Now, what you doing in my hood?!*

"Fuck you!" Josh said, as he came within spitting distance of the location his sources said was the location of a vaxx clinic." I don't,answer questions!"

He then hunkered down in a snakeevine hedge across the street, as the P2500s began a lazy orbit around the area.

The Moor, surprisingly enough, continued down the street, as purple lightning arced in the bruise-volored sky above, and acidic rain began falling down, sizzling on Josh's Make Our Republic Grand Againballcap and armorjacket, and PatriotPress began auditing the suspect black clinic in earnest.

25 MAY, 2055
08:20;21

“Ensign Rand,” Lieutenant Commander Xon order, after leaning beside the junior communications officer,”you will direct a subspace radio message toward the structure containing the singularity, then erase any trace of that message from the logs.”

“The message, sir?” Rand asked.

“Conyact established,” Xon replied.

“Aye, sir,” Rand replied.”Message sent, sir.”

“Thank you,” the Vulcan science officer and operative og the outlawed Section 31, said to Rand, before sitting at the captain's chair in the center of the bridge, his task for his true masters accomplished.

More ships would come, new construction, vastly superior warp enfines, better armaments and active defenses, all compliments of the Others contact by Section 31 operatives near an artifact similar to theone on the planet below, this one deep in the core of a neutron star somewhere in the Survey Zone.

More ships would come, and they would conquer, while those in Starfleet no longer useful to Buckner and his Put Earth First Again cronies would sacrificed en masse in a unwinnable war against the Klingons and their Coalition.

All necessary to bring about thr New Galactic Order, one in which human ruled all the lesser races, including Xon's arrogant, complacent fellow Vulcans.

The message had been sent.

More ships would come.

All Xon could do now was wait.

[WillDexter]

04) But For the Grace Of God

25 MAY, Y168
08:10;00

Patriots, loyal ro rhe great cause of putting Earth first again, patrolled the streets od New Athens, on Kentaurus, draggingg misandric hate criminals from shattered, burning buildings, disciplining them, black-bagging them, then laying them in piles on the street to be beamed away to friefgters taking the high and mighty matriarchs of Alpha Centauri to the rOrion slave markets.
.
Field Marshal Simon Bolivar Buckner, rightful chairman of the Council of the United Federation of Planets, smiled, as he dtood in the Panopticon of the United Earth Government Center in New York, again the seat of government for all human civilization, the rightful Leader If the Free World sipping a water glass of Jack and Coke, as, directly outside the Secretariat Tower's windows, patriots burned the flag of the alien, socialist Federation, whose criminal cabal of galactivist, alien-loving freaks, gtoomers, and pedophiles had robbed real human beings(as opposed to the beta cucks who did their bidfing)of their true greatness, their manifest destiny, as given to them in covenant with God almost eight hundred years ago, for far, far too long.

On another screen, starships of the new Fleet unleashed a hellish orbital bombardment of the three Gorn homewotld, after testing their new weapons—relativistic-velocity railguns—on the insubordinate Martian Colonies.

Still more ships of the new Fleet visited death and destruction on the Kzinti homewotld, while the entirity of the old Starfleet, ships and woke crews caring more for political correctness than human freedom, were being sacrificed, en masse, on the altar that were the Kling Deep Space Fleet and the Romulan Impweial Star Navy

"Sir," Mitch Slidell, head of United Earth Intelligence Section 31, said, as he stood just behind the rightful leader of a new galactic order.

"What it is, Mitch?" Buckner asked, as he kept his back turned to him.

" A fiery todstoll blossomed where Bellvue Hospital had once stood, a scene repeated with hospitals, clinics, scientific research facilities, museums, and libraries Federation-wide.

On a viewscreen, Buckner watched, and smiled, as an t-gun barrage from the refitted USS Ebterprise removed Memory Alpha and its useless researchers and librarians from the sight of men.

“Our operative aboard Hood]/i].” Slidell said,”has reported in. The ship made a successful transit to an alternate reality. The Sixth Fleet has been activated, and only awaits your woed of command to begin crossing over.”

“Our friends will be pleased,” Buckner replied,”as am I.

Give the order.”


25 MAY, 2055
08:51;58


The slave knelt on the floorboard before Kennedy, and put its mouth to its highest, best use, as the 2023 Cadillac custom limousine bulled its way from Andrews, up 295, and into New Jerusalem proper, the limo passing the golden effigy of the Messiah sodomizing the Great Harlot, Abigail Wilson, with a flagpole from which the Flag of the Grand Old Republic, the sacred Southern Cross, fluttered and whip cracked in the cold May air.

Another turn, and a Praetorian Confederate Legionnaire in full dress uniform was waiting at the foot of Golgotha Hill to open the door for Kennedy, who exited after pulling his trousers back up, the white robes of office down, then giving the slave the back of his hand to reward its poor performance.

a squad of Black Legionnaires, escorted the Imperial Grand Wizard of the K u Klux Klan up marble stairs made rusty with the blood of the patriots and tyrants shed during the storming of the Old Capitol at the beginning of the War Of American Liberation, Kennedy hard, and getting harder, ae he regarded the thousands of hums camped out amongst hundreds of millions of crucified corpses, with four of those set somewhat apart from the rest

The traitors Woodrow and Abigail Wilson, John Perishing, and John Lejune. he mused, as he ascended further up the steps of the Temple, to a 900-foot golden cross, upon which had been engraved George Washington's most famous words "YOU ARE OUR GOD, AND WE ARE YOUR PEOPLE. HALLELUJAH!"

This had been where Washington Himself, known to Scripyire as Moses, upon becoming the Republic's first President in 1621, had knelt, and formally bound His people to God.

So the narrative ran.

"Here began New Israel," the sign in front of the Cross simply said, before the Grand Imperial Wizard of the Klan continued up Golgotha Hill to the Temple at the top.of the steps, a long, black-columned building with a golden dome on each vertex, with a glass done in the center displaying a large-scale model of the flat, motionless Earth, complete with a geocentric Sun and Moon keeping time.

Atop the domw was another golden Messiah, this one seated on a marble Throne, with harlots grovelling naked, collared and chained at His feet.

The Legionary escort swung open the double oaken doors leading into the Temple proper, the Third Temple, so the narrative ran, laid down in accordance with instructions received by Moses from God.

It might have been one of Sunday's disciples who started that story, but, more likely, that might be the creation of some rando on the Internet as most of the better narratives were; Kennedy wasn't sure anymore, and the War had been chaotic, records and artifacts destroyed as much by accident as by design, in spite of the Klan's best efforts.

His steps echoed down the marble hallway, all the way to the spiral staircase in the central rotunda, themperial Grand Wizard and his escort ascending those stairs, the top of which let out into the private penthouse apartments of the Prophet and the men of the Grand Imperial Klavern, the hallway itself terminating in another pair of oaken doors, these guarded by a squad of Praetorians, who admitted Kennedy into the inner chamber

As was his place, Kennedy knelt before the high, long wooden table at the far end of the Star Chamber, and bowed his headin the presence of the President, his Grand Imperial Klavern, the First President of the Celestial Kingdom.of Deseret, and the other leaders of the League of Mar a Lago.


25b MAY, 2055
08:54;19

"It's not Monticello,' Captain David Omo iV said to this so-called Chairman with a haughty sniff," but, I suppose it has some sentimental value to your people."

"George Washington Himself prayed here,” Buckner said,” where the Secretariat Tower stands today, and said ' You are our God, and we are your people,' hallelujah![/i which are also the first words of our sacred Constitution."

"Ah, yes," the Royal United States Navy officer said,"the Constitution. I've heard such things mentioned before, but we never saw the need for contracts between men ourselves.

Why would there be, when all law comes from the white man, and the white man's moral authority was given him by Yahweh, He who created the white man in His stainless image?"

"Quite," Buckner agreed, as the naked Deian slave pouring drinks trembled, and spilled precious liquor onto the carpet, for which Buckner promptly gave it the back off his hand, followed immediately by the taste of boot.

"You must forgive me, Captain," he said, as the slave slinked away on its hands and knees," the woke, degenerate galactivist socialist cabal all but destroyed the slave procurement and training network set up by Epstein and Goetz awveral hundred years ago, in the name of dicersity and inclusiveness, and we are having to start all over from scratch "

"We can lend you skilled hands toward that endeavor, sir," was Commander Clifford Overby's suggestion, Omo fighting to disguise his contempt for the King's Watch "liaison" attached to the RUSS Somers.

"We would be most appreciative, Commander," Buckner replied "While willing and eager, our men have been spoiled by life under the Rothschild aocialist bankster tyranny tyranny, and are somewhat…rusty…when it comes to the finer points of being men."

"I understand," Omo said, before telling Buckner," the first of the chrysalises has been installed in this edifice, and is programmed with your braincording and genetic profile With the slaves we brought with us, worked round the clock, we can have fifty more up and running in the basement of your Government Center within three days."

Buckner grinned broadly at hearing that.

"What about additional crews for my ships, soldiers, ships of your own?" he then asked

"Crews for two thousand of your heavy dreadnaught cruisers will arrive shortly through the Io artifact of this time and place," Omo assured Buckner." The rest .."

"The rest," Overby said,"is dependent on the good will of King Eric and the Thirteen, and whether or not they believe this venture will ultimately bear fruit."

"Naturally," Buckner said, in seeming agreement, as the two subjects of the Royal United States poured themselves water glasses of Jack Daniels whiskey, before Buckner adulterated the whiskey in his glass with more syrupy sweet dark soda, something Omo heard came from both the kola plant and a seven percent solution of cocaine.

Which, if true, Omo mused, as he sipped his whiskey, ]i]then such a concoction is a God-damned sorry waste of perfectly good cocaine as well.

"We're ready, sir," a disembodied voice said, and the terminal on the desk lit up with the display of a great wheel, at the point on Galactic maps formerly known as “Zero Mark Zero.”.

"Gentlemen, bear witness to the end of a misguided era," Buckner told the King's men. "The former headquarters of a degenerate, socialist Federation, along with all its records, computer network, the tyrant so-called lawmakers, and the empty suits who staffed it for their Rothschild galactivist puppet masters."

One of the new 386,000-yon Ares-class Stellar Domination Starships, USS Julius Caesar', unleashed the full firepower of its thirty-sixx 18” r-guns, and Federation Headquarters disappeared in a roar of hot, white light.

"Gone,'Buxkner whispered whispered. "Gone, never again to plague God's People with the God-less, athiestic, socialist tyranny of equality.”

"'Deo vindice!'" both Omo and Overby found themselves saying.

“He does ibdeed,” Buckner whispered in reply.

“He does indeed,” he repeated, saluting the two men with his glass.

[WillDexter]

25 MAY, 2055
08:59;52

"'You are our God, and We are Your people, hallelujah!"' Daniel Pratt ROW said on YouTube, while the Son of Man watched his livestream via BCI.

"First words of the ;i'Textus Receipts,[/i] " Pratt added," written in red on the hearts of every American by Moses and the other Founding Fathers, the very words Moses Himself said, when the Founding Fathers first came ashore, planted the Golden Cross on the site they were instructed to by Squanto, being used as a vessel by God, to build the Third Temple, and Moses fell to His knees, prayed and bound the Grand Old Republic and all its people into covenant with Yahweh."

"Forty years," Stephen "Bold4Christ” Douglas reverently whispered " Forty years, did Moses and the other Israelites wander the world, after fleeing bondslavery at the hands of the Jews and Queen Jezebel, til she was drowned following the children of Israel into the sea, while Yahweh made a way for His people to safely cross over to the New Israel, where they would build their City On a Hill, and ultimately triumph over all the Enemy tried to do to them."

"The Cross was the only thing to survive the Mudfloods of the late 1930s," Santos Bonacci said, as the Prophet of the Restored American Republic his Twelve Disciples, and his erstwhille allies in the League sat at the conference table, smoked fatties, and, for the moment, ignore Kennedy, in the white robe and hood of his office, kneeling at their feet, " and the subsequent Communist corporate takeover by Eleanor Roosevelt and the Rothschilds.”

"And," Dustin "American Swamp Warrior" Cairns spoke up, as the Son of Man kept taking deep drags, then explosively blew. smoke in the face of his keeper of secrets,"th' 'leets, t'counteract that Cross, erected their pagan totem in Tahlequah, an' consecrated the Wahington Monument, falsely s'called, to Satan, in a demonic ritual, involvin' sacrficin' babies, an' gettin' drunk on 'drenachrome. That was on July the 29th of 1958."

"The date JIEC was supposedly founded," Level Earth Observer remarked."Imagine that "

25 MAY, Y168
09:05;00

"What we've been programmed to believe, broski," Trey Tate remarked." Though it's been known for years that the Deceiver, Yeuspah was alive from the very beginning, 6,000 years ago."

"Creationist superstition!" a fat, out of shape, furry faced loser had the bad manners to contradict his more learned fellows "We have proof, from fossils, radiometric dating, and other scientific observations–"

"Scientism," Alec "Geocentric Sky Watcher" Suratt snorted contemptuously. "Programming and indoctrination by the Communist, corporate public fool system "

"Another brain-fried," Sam "The Great I Am" Kelso remarked,"school-injured, sexually-confused beta boy, who just can't think for himself."

"Taught to raise his hand," Jakob Pratt remarked," wait his turn, and trust the experts "

Laughter from across cyberspace, as General Mitchell Slidell, Direction of United Earth Intelligence Section 31, and Vice-Chairman of the Federation Council, watched this livestream unfold on the terminal in his office.

“Stupid bitchboy,” Mike E. Smith snarked in the side chat.”For one, it is a documented fact that the alien-infested, so-called United Earth Space Probe afency, or UESPA, derived its name from the Hebre word for deceiver, yuespah; that is incontrovertible irrefutable, and undebunkable.

Just as irrefutable, undebunkable, and incontrovertible is the fact that evilutionists have never, in the 709 years they brainwashed and indoctrinated the masses through the mainstream media and the public fool system, provided any real, scientific proof for their incredible set of fairy tales, and, that the Cabal have cancelled, de-banked, imprisioned, and murdered anyone who tried to tell the truth.”

“And, the truth,” Christopher Channing, aka “CC From Westchester County,” spoke up,”is we have irrefutable, undebunkable, scientific proof that God created the heavens, and the flat, motionless, infinite, domed plane of the Earth in six days, that He was definitely the King over all the Old Kings, including the Organians, that God created Adam and Eve in His own image--man and woman, not gayfers, lesbos, and trannies—and commanded Adam to father a race of New Kings to rule over all the lesser races of his creation, and to subjugate Yuespa and all Her demons to his perfect and powerful will.”

“The Organians,” Tuvok Sha'Kur, aka “The Vulcan Skeptic,” said,”are, in fact, angels, those who died in Christ Jesus, also called Surak, and resuurected to live with Him in their Heavenly mansions, and rule alongside Him on white thrones.”

"He's fair game," the livestream's host, Brian "Transparency4All" Abrams, decided. "A two-million credit bounty for the head of John Lawrence Warren, 1432 E. Muskogee Highway, Tahlequah, Oklahoma, age 64, retired tribal marshal for the Cherokee Nation corporate courts, drives a brown Y166 Chrysler 380 sedan, married, five children, sixteen grand children, personal information on them and his wife, Deboraugh, attached in the info packet available on my Website for two hundred credits."

Slidell smiled, as Transparency4All added,"anyone providing the community with personal information on Warren's friends, neighbors, former co-workers, and the friends, family and co-workers of his wife, family, friend, neighbors and former co-workers, will receive a 25% discount on the final information packet, if they use the promo code 'PEFA.'"

Slidell laughed.

That's how you run a grift, he observed, with an applebag the size of the fuckin' WYN Cluster.

Slidell then took a sip of Seagram's on the rocks, musing about his part of making all this possible, a small off the books purchase here, a shell corporation here,, government watchdogs paid to look the other way there, til, by Y155, Section 31, outlawed following the Second Romulan War in Y110, owned every part of the Federation's technology sector from end users to code monkeys, way it had been, in the bad old days, before it had all slipped through the Old Republicans' grubby little fingers on the discovery of the warp drive, following four hundred years of Eugenics Wars, World War, Post-Atomic Horror and the Second Dark Ages.

Not this time.

The Federalist Party never made their true agenda public, and never lost cohesion, while the Progs wete so very easily divided amongst themselves, so easily infiltrated, like every other institution which might threaten the supremacy of the True Humanity, those infiltrators staying quiet and very much in the background, doing their sabotage subtly, and in the dark.

Until the time had come to take the masks off, and the white race, Augmented by thr Lord, their God, and His Messiah, Adam Soong, proved they could learn from mistakes made during all the previous attempts to make everything exactly the way they wanted it.

This time, no mistakes.

And, they might even have help from without, from their own kind, who, in another time and place, had gotten things right from the beginning.

They'd made good on their promises of resurrection and eternal life for the white race, as well as a crews for two thousand additional heavy dreadnaught cruisers, and numbers to take the places of Starfleet personnel either purged from the ranks, sacrificed en masse to the Klingon-Romulan Coalition, or sold into slavery.

Everything else was pending their government's approval, which was understandable, Slidell himself would've exercised similar restraint, had their positions been reversed

"Sir," the holo of Slidell's chief of staff, Colonel Kieran Musk, said, as it appeared ion his terminal screen,"The list you've requested has been compiled, and uploaded to the Net."

Slidell called up the list in question ..names, personal information, work and financials on everyone throughout Fed space who:d been vaxxed.

Along with friends, family, neighbors,, and co-workers.

All of whom now threatened to infect healthy individuals with shedded spike proteins from said vaccines.

So, the narrative ran.

"Publish the list to Net," Slidell instructed."All these people are now fair game."

25 MAY, 2055
09:11;01

Just as the pain in Kennedy's knees had started becoming unbearable, the Prophet finally decide he and his man, escorted into the Star Chamber. And put on his knees by Praetorians, should be allowed to “speak, boy!”

“Sire, Dsiciples, Reverend Imperial Grand Dragon, and Excellencies of the League,” Woodruff, covered head to toe in the white satin of his office, spoke, not once looking any of his superiors in the eye,”our intelligence indicates a phenomenon, with an energy output of 10,344 yottajoules--”

“Six,” Elder Shane Vaughn remarked,”to the sixth to the sixth,” to which Elder Greg Locke remarked,”if that ain't witchcraft, I don't know what is.”

“--originating from a structure on Alpha Centauri Alfa I,” Woodruff continued,”did bring seven starships from another universe to ours; six of those were destroyed in combat with slaves and tyrants, while the seventh remains in orbit, along with an Anglo-Swedish heavy battlegroup.

A few minutes prior to my return to Earth, that ship transmitted a brief message aimed at the structure in question.”

“Company's coming,” Elder Mark Burns, a Negro permitted by God and the Klavern to transition to a white man, because of his service to the Cause, came to the obvious conclusion, the Imperial Grand Wizard of the Klan, permitted by his Sire to rise to his feet, then asked one of his Southern Knights,”threat level?”

“Technologically inferior to us in all respects, Exalted Grand Wizard,” Woodruff's reply.” Primitive matter-antimatter generation, low-efficency quantum tunnel generators and fusion torches, low-yield, very low-yield thermonuclear missiles and directed-energy weapons, non-existent armor, low-quality active protection systems, weak plasma shielding proof against their weapons tech only. As much of a match for us as Ethiopian savages against Roman soldiers.”

We can take them.”

“Alexander would be pleased,” Junio IV, Caesar and Pontifex Maximus of Rome, remarked.”More worlds to conquer.”

“Ja,” Reichsmarshall Xavier Dirlewagner, Hochkanzler of the Argentine Republic, agreed.

“Assuming,” the Prophet Johnathan Dalton, First President of the Celestial Kingdom of Deseret, then said,”we can secure the planet, and its portal, for ourselves.”

“Let us pray,” the Prophet decdide, Kennedy, along with the others, bowing their heads, seemingly in prayer, while the Imperial Grand Wizard of the Ku Klux Klan, Keeper of Secrets, posted the appropriately-worded poll onlune via BCI.

The men in the Temple's Star Chamber, after casting their votes, remained in prayer a few minutes more, before the anointed Prsident of the Grand Old Republic rose his head, informing the others,”God has spoken. It is His Will that two fleets be dispatched from the America to Apha Centauri A I to take captive all akiens from another plane of existence, defeat and destroy the tyrants defending the planet, take into bondslavery those tyrants infesting the suraface of the planet, and secure the portal for ourselves.Praise the Lord--”

”For God is good!” all those in the Star Chamber and online replied as one.

“All the time, my brothers,” the Son of Man replied.

“All the time.”

[WillDexter]

25 MAY, Y168
09:11;01

Buckner hadn't forgotten the queers, dykes, furries, alien lovers, and freaks who'd eiither undergone or were in the process of undergoing download into the cloned bodies of genders other than the ones the Father, the Son, and Adam Soong had ordained them to be, and other perverts and sexual deviants.

The Leader of the Free Worlds reviewed that list, as it appeared in his terminal, before publishing it to the Net, for patriots to do what came naturally to pattiots,

Already, on AndorianTyrantSlayer 's livestream, patriots had smashed their way into a haven for freaks and child grooming pedophiles, just down the street from the Center itself, the freaks dragged kicking and screaming from their chairs, stripped, chastised, then hog-tied, their heads shoved into black burlap hoods locked into place with collars, before being beamed up to frieghters outbound for the Orion slave markets.

Another window in the terminal's viewscreen showed Charles Town Auditor torturing some black bitch and her brats, as just and legal punishment for the crimes of the sobbing, red-headed tyrant pig slut, her blue FedMarshal's Service uniform ripped open, secured to a chair with her own torture cuffs,

"SIC SEMPER TYRANNIS!" howled JeffHatesPigs in Charles Town Auditor's live chat.

"FREEEE-DUUMMMM!" screamed Arkangel4Truth.

"'Free at last, free at last, praise God Almighty we are free at last!'" cried YouHaveRightsFedsHaveDuties, as the bootlickers just screamed, howled, and cried at the knowledge they had damned themselves to Hell.

Until, one by one, the red-headed pig's African slave girl, and their children, died, leaving the tyrant to sob uncontroolably, while CTA raided their icebox, at the same time he read super chats.

For his part, Buckner drank more Jack and Coke, as he went about the business of putting Earth first again.

Newly-installed governments on the member worlds and the Orion enclave, all Earth First loyalists, had readily recognized Terran primacy, after decades of woke, weak socialist misrule and alien dominion, while the radical left Marxist Prog regieme on Venus, Kentaurus, Tellar Prime, and Rigel selfishly refused to do the same, prompting ships of the new Fleet, under its new Chief of Starfleet Operations, Grand Admiral Steven V. Cole, to subject those worlds to orbital bombardment with r-weapons, killing the billions who'd brought violent judgement upon themselves for allowing the elites to groom them, indoctrinate them, vax them, misuse transporter technology to change their genders willy nilly, murder their babies, and lead them around by the nose.

Come to think of it, all the other Federation, now Terran , worlds were infested with radical Marxist Progs who would hate the idea of a Restored Holy Terran Empire as passionately as they hated the human race.

They didn't want coexistence, history had taught the People that.

They only wanted to be right, when everything they were was just so demonstrably wrong.

They were no more human than the demon Vulcans, the blue-skinned Andorian savages, the piggish Tellarites, the Amazon lesbian dominatrices, falsely so-called, of Alpha Centauri, the Deians, Orions, Kzinti, Klingons, Hydrans, Gypsies, Gorn, or all the others infesting His Creation, and had just as little to offer the People.

They could be safely disposed of as well, when the time came..


05) When Fools Can Be Kings

25 MAY, 2055
09:26:48

”The fuck is this?!” the master and commander of the Federation Starship Hood demanded of his Deiian girlfriend, an instants before wrenching her out of the filthy hands of Lieutenant Silly Bitch, then gave her the back of his firm hand of loving masculine authority.

”Answer me!” Riker further demanded, while Tilly struggled in the grip of real men, namely Fuller and his second, Master Chief Petty Officer Samuel Giotto.

Riker smacked his disobedient Deiian again, before grabbing a firm hold of her collar, and tearing Deiiah's gold uniform minidress down the middle.

“Make her wa--” he started to say to Fuller, just before three high-pitched whines and a blue nimbus interru--

25 MAY, 2055
09:33:17

”The actual sodding f--” Phyll , on her feet, 7.62mm L19 service pistol in hand, started to fdemand of the twin pillars of golden light sparkling on her command deck directly in front of her.

Her words died in her throat, as she regarded the impossibly beautiful young blonde, blodd tricklng from the corner of her mouth, fold minidress torn open to reveal a brassiere and knickers of the same gold cloth, and black fishnet stockings tapering into black knee boots, the redhead in a red blouse, black trousers flaring into high black boots, laying a hand on the blonde's trembling shoulders, telling her it was okay, she was safe noe.

“I-i think we're safe,” she added, grip tightening on some sort of pistol vaguely resembling a ray gun from one of those ancient sci-fi movies with UFOs, Orion-drive rocketships, and bug-eyed aliens lusting after buxom human women.

Phyll holstered her weapon, and told the section of Marines guarding CIC to stand down.

“Skipper,” Lieutenant Commander Swathi Singamala reported from intel,”the twof thm came over from Hood, utilizing some sort of matter-conversion and transmission tech--”

“Some seriou Doctor Who shit,” Petra commented, Electra replying,”apparentally not, Guns,” while Swathi continued:

“--converting their matter to a quantum radio signal, along with the data to reassemble them on the other end.”

“I've found away to jam any future such transmissions, as thry're being transmitted,” Swathi added, anticipating Phyll's next concern.”Passing that data to Comms.”

“Thank the Goddess,” Phyll replied,”and, well done, Intel.”

Looking the readhead in the eye, she added,”I really, really, sodding do not like surprises, young miss.”

“Now,” she said,”if you kindly put that bloody thing away, and explain yourselves, I'd be most appreciative.”

“Th-the ca-captain,” thr blonde stammered out,”-h-h-he tried....he t-tried...h-he ttr-tried t-to...”

The poor, frightened thing, literally quaking in her boots couldn't say another word, nor did she have to.

The redhead, younger than her friend, then took up the narrative:

“Istunned the son of a bitch with Fuller's phaser, stunned Fuller and his thug before that, then had to fight our way though Renner and his jarheads to a transporter room.”

“And,” Electra asked,”you couldn't report this to your chain of command, why?!”

“We would've ended up in the brig,” the redhead answered, looking Heart Of Oak's first lieutenant in the eye, as she spoke,”and, once Riker and his command staff found a way to get the ship back home, in an Orion slave market, way thing have been going back home.”

“She's likelt telling the truth, Number One,” Swathi said,”from what little of their databases IM've been able to download; although the Federation's ostensibly a multi-species social democracy, it's taken a gradaul turn toward right-wing authortarianism, driven by the Put Earth First Again wing of the reigning Federalist Party, led by Federation Council Chairman and multi-billionaire corpoateexecutive Simon Buckner, who hold field marshal rank in their Earth's National Guard.
This trend toward authoritarianism and Earth nationalism has seen increasing discrimination, legal and social harassment, and outright violence toward women, non-Caucasian, non-teerestrial, and otherwise non-conforming humans, as well as the Federation's other memver species by predominantly white Terran nationalists.”

“We're being commed,” Jeanette announced.”USS Hood's exec, demanding we turn over Leftenants Tilly and Deiiah, for criminal prosecution.”

“Tell him to get fucked,” Phyll decided,”then jam their comms, and anything which even smells like s matter transmission signal. Marines, escort these two young women to Med Section, have the Doc give 'em a full workup. Number One, sound Action Stations.”

“And,” she added, as the Action Stations klaxon, and Electra's voice boomed over the tannoy,”may the Admiralty and the Good Goddess forgive me.”

[WillDexter]

25 MAY, Y168
09:33:17


The Party had spent the last five decades infiltrating the Hague, and the growing number of sympathetic justices had served them well.

Least some of the time.

In live, streaming video, those justices, along those still siding with tyranny to the bitter end, received their wage at the end of a rope, patriots, after stringing up the entire Federation Supreme Court, proceeding to vandalize, ransack, rape, murder and relieve themselves all throughout the Supreme Court building, even as matter-antimatter charges were being laid in the catacombs below.

'Seventeen seventy-six all over again!* howled "The Shaman" John Angeli, as he sodomized a little brown honey with his flagstaff, from which a ginirmous new United Earth flag–thirteen red and white stripes and a golden sword impaling a golden Earth on a field of blue–proudly flew. "Glory, hallelujah!"

His Impweial Majesty—as he would soon be known—as he watched this, just got harder, Buckner smiling, as he published still another list, this one of Federalist Party members not loyal to Earth First, Earth Last, Earth Forever Above All.

Then watched, on another window, as more patriots stormed Howard Univerdity's Tubman Quadrangle, kicking in doors, dragging sluts, whores, apes, monkeys, and dykes out by their hair, laying bare their nakedness, and chastising them, before black bagging them and loading them for transport to the slave pens being rebuilt all over the good Earth

"We warned about them for years," Jesse Lee "Godless Sapient" Williams screamed on his livestream,"for years, and the SJWs , Big Tech, and the mainstream media silenced us, mocked us, persecuted us, because we were right all along!*


"We were right, Brother Man," assured Tommy "No Bullshit" Kirk III, while, in the foreground, OutKast Z and Vegan Athiest were giving some subhuman ape thing the DP her little girlfriends' strapons couldn't.

"We were right," NoBS repeated."Take away their free stuff, take away their handouts, refuse to cater to their racism and xenophobia bullshit charges, and they get violent and throw tantrums like all spoiled little brats "

"They kill white people, the Progs coddle them," Sean "Thinking Athiest" McCrae remarked." They fuck our women, and the Progs coddle them; they use targeted mRNA gene therapies and transporter tech to turn us into slobbering lesbo tranny freaks, the Progs coddle them. They burn down our cities, storm our government buildings, threaten the rule of law, and the fucking Progs coddle them "

"That's cause they need 'em,Brother Man," Jayson "Awake Atheist" Clarke remarked." That's the reason the Progs gave them free creds, the best jobs, free college, and free healthcare, so they'd be good lapdogs for the elites, and their religion of SJW, woke Marxist socialism."

Buckner chuckled…of all the communities, the athiests, having had decades to become complacent and smug, had been the easiest to infiltrate, especially given the number of human males who realized giving up religion also meant giving up justification for their supremacist beliefs and their privilege.

They were almost as easy to fool as the gamers and the various science fiction fandoms, the first ones the Party had infiltrated, just to see if it could be done and how to do it.

Now, that space travel, space science, all of that, was not only being banned but purged as well, all those easily-led, cynically manipulated athiests, gamers, and sci-fi freaks would be rounded up en masse, by suitably-compensated patriot press gangs, turned over to the newly-established Bureau of Training, Doctrine and CorrectionsBuTRADOCC) for vocational repurposing, then over to Starfleet to round out the Royal US Navy volunteers, PEFA operatives, and Earth National Guard personnel manning the new starships, to carry out the work of sterilizing space of anything, anyone that presumed to threaten the peace and safety of the People.

"--no historical evidence that Eratosthenes, Copernicus, Galileo, Newton, Einstein, Stephen Hawking, or even Neil deGrassee Tyson ever even existed–"

25 MAY, 2055
09:31:09

"—ordering you to turn over Lieutenants Tilly and Deiiah to us, to face justice for their cri--” Kirk started to repeat, before Riker shoved him out of the cnter seat, and assumed the conn.

“Marines to the transporters,” he said into the intercom,”I say again, all Marines to the transporters; we are going to take back our officers, and take that ship they're on. Deadly force is authorized, except for Tilly and Deiiah; them, you will stun, then beam directly to seperate isolation cells.”

“That ship they're on,” Riker explained to his less-intelligent subordinates, brain-damaged by vax, replicated fake food, and the Federation's woke, leftist public fool system,”is not only more advanced than anything we have, but might contain the secret to getting home.

Once the Marines secure it, we will transfer aboard it, destroy ]i]Hoof,]/i]then head first for the Orion slave markets, then for Earth.”

Riker then leaned back in his chair, and smiled. Thinking about the honors and certain promo--

“Bridge,” Senior Chief Miles O'Brien all but screamed over the intercom,”they're jamming our transporter signals, I xa--”

”Shields up! Red Aler--” Xon then started screaming from the science sta--

25 MAY, 2055
09:31:09

”Hands to Action Stations,” Martyn's voice barked over the tannoy,”hands to Action Stations! Assume state one Zulu throughout the platform! Enemy inbound, action now![/i]”

Bucephalus' main battery killed the dreadnaught cruiser that just dispatched Hood, 129 more hostiles closing the RCN battle group at max av, on a direct vec from the Solar System.

“These aren't like the others,” Martyn then observed, as he followed the Dark Horse's 96 Shield Maidens and 144 Lightning.F7 heavy fighters into the enemy formation charging toward them behind a screen of their own fifty-ton machines and 300-ton heavy fighters dropping from the bellies of several of the 225-kiloton, quad-nacelle saucer and cylinder armored cruiser analogues, and all ten of the 380,000-ton quad nacelle saucer and ctlinder starliner analogues.

“Quantum tunnel jennies similar to League standard tech,” Yanet reported, as interceptors on the enemy hulls fragmented Tinq's next salvo,”no shielding, thicker armor, interceptors, and track-mounted r-guns; fifty-ton machines are manned; all small craft launchinf two-ron self-propelled relativistic projectiles.”

CIC webt dark, Portia reporting damage and status, Kris reporting,”Quantum tunnels, five-seven-six-zera, direct vec Sol, entering battlespace, max av.”

“Two League fleets,” Yanet reported,”plus French Astromatine 4th Fleet and North American Third Fleet; all ships launching drones and fighters.”

“Quantum tunnels, five-seven-six zera,” Kris then said.”Two Legues fleets, direct vec 61 Cygni, RCN Eighth and Nakkie Mobile Strike Fleet, direct vec Caanan, closing us and one another, max av.”

[WillDexter]

25 MAY, 2055
09:34:35

The bridge of the USS Heracles trembled, went dark, exploded, burst into flame, and threw men, shrieking as they burned, from their stations to slam, with a crunching finslity, into the deck ot against the bulkheads.

“Polluc, Juno, Nemesis, and Furies,” reported Lieutenant Commander Anthony Miyoko from the science station,”are gone.”

“Decks three through eleven,” the ship's first officer, Commander Edward MacDugan, reported,”gutted, no survivors; forward interceptors dismounted, offline. Radiators one to four destroyed, internal heat now 91 degrees, rising. Nymbers one and three nacelles ruptured, no survivors, quantum warp generators, reactors, and impulse engines, both nacelles, destroyed.”

“Speed dropping,” the helmsman, Lieutenant John Harriman Kim reported, as thr 380,00-ton Ares-class stellar dominstor staggered under more fragmented relativistic ordinance holing the ship stem to stern.”Now Q Factor 7.52. continuing to drop.”

Studying his tactical display, Rear Admiral Trevor Hall had just one concern:

“Gof famn it, where the hell is Aganemmnon?![/i[“

A few moments passed, before Mackie had the answer:

“Aganemmnon battle group hanging back, not engaging.”

“Fleet Command to Aganemmnon!” Hall barked into his command chair's mic.”Commodore Sheridan, you will bring your battle group into the fight, now, or face summary court martial for treason, and disobeying a lawful order.”

The main viewscreen lit up with the furry, blonde face of Commodore John Sheridan, his gravelly voice replying,”negative, Fleet Command. Neither Aganemmnon nor any of her battle group will engage in support of treason or unlawful orders from an outlaw regime.”

“John,” Mackie tried pleading with the obvious bleeding-heart leftisy, whose heroism had been overblown,”for God's sake, don't do this. Please, think of your family man, what they'll do to your folks, your sister, her husband. Their new baby, anyone even associated with you, or them.”

“Mackie....” that treasonousbastard started to say, trailing off, sighing, starting over.”God, Mackie, I'm sorry you have to be on the side of the thugs who took my wife from me, and sold her to the highest bidder, then expect me to just fucking lick their boots.

No.

I can't go that fa--”

“I told the others you didn't have what it takes, Sheridan,” Hall said, vutting the traitor.”Fine. Commander Ibanova, by the authority vested in me by Starfleet Command, I am promoting you to Captain. You will place Commodore Sheridan under arrest, then bring your battle group into the fight. Do youn copu?!”

Silence answered Hall, while his ship continued to take damage, anf grow more sluggish.

“Commander Ivanova, don't think we don't know about your pretty little girlfriend back on Earth. If you want her to be safe, for the moment, if you want to keep her off an Orion slaver's auction block, you will carry out my orders, to the letter!”
The red-headed dyke, wearing slacks like any misandric butch lesbo freak who hated her femininity even more than she hated men, appeared on screen alongside Sheridan.

In a calm, husky voice, she replirf:

”S'yesh moyu zadnitsu, suka.”

Then, the screen, and the bridge went dark.

25 MAY, 2055
09:39:27

“Thank you” was inadequate for what Susan Ivanova had done, all she stood to lose.

But, it was all Commodore John Sheridan had to offer.

“Talia,” she quietly said, amidst the chaos of USS Aganemmnon's bridge,”would've wanted me to be true to myself, John, and, if loyalty to my friends, my captain, is an act of insurrection and treason, then...”

She trailed off.

“Fuck 'em,” she finally said, as, in the main viewscreen, Pegasus began to pivot, and vlose Aganemmnon.

“We're being hailed,”Ensign Cord Ryder said from comms.

Commodore Kane,” the comms officer added,”demanding--“

“Mister Garibaldi,” Sheridan said to his weapons officer,Lieutenant Commander Micheal Garibaldi,”lock main battery on Pegasus, and fire.”

With a thought, transmitted via his newly-installed BCI chip, Garibaldi sent 360 18” penetrators downrange at near-light speed,Pegausp/i] evading or intercepting most of the, as the 225,000-ton Vicennes-class battle cruisers Masada,, Midway,, Long March,. and Manila Bay, all altered vec to screen their primary, rounds meant for Pegasus instead taking out Manila Bay with a direct hit, while frahments from intercepted ordinance struck both of Midway's starboard nacelles squarely, obliterating them completely, leaving the rsgged stumps of nacelle struts to bleed plasma and coolant.

“Think of your family, Sheridan,” the grizzled, leathery face od Commodore William Kane said, as it lit up the main viewscreen, his burning bridge in the background,”yoour friends, anyone else assoviated with you or them.

At least think of the families friends, neighbors, and associates of the officers and crew u--”,

In a roar of hot light, Pegasus disappeared, the battle cruisera Bunker Hill,Jutland,,Salamis, and Yorktown all charging past Aganemmnon. max Q-warp, guns blaziing, as they engaged the remainder of Pegasus' cruiser screen.


25 MAY, 2055
09:45:06

The main battery had targets the instant the Old Oak cleared atmo, instantly upcycled, and closed the enemy formatuon, max av.

“Skipper,” Jeanette reported,”am monitoring enemy comm chatter; one of their squadrons just turned their coats.”

“Confirmed,” Swathi and Kylien both said at once, Phyll seeing one of the Starfleet starliner analogues take out one of the dreadnaught cruiser analogues, and crippling a second, while four more Fed dreadnaught cruisers charged past that starliner to kill another, as more Starfleet ships converged on that part of the battlespace.

With Churchill and Warspite on either side, Heart of Oak charged into the fray, Petra scoring direct hits on three cruisers almost immediately, three more falling away deadstick, hulls breached, nacelles ruptured like overripe fruit, Electra standing the ship on her jets, coming hard about, the main battery punishing still another enemy starliner closing the one who'd turned his coat.

Another hard turn about, when the Oak momentarily left the scene of that particular battle, the flagship of 42nd Heavy Battle Group and her wingmates rejoining the fight, dispatching the starship of the line they had been engaging and a half dozen cruisers which had failed to screen it, another pair of starliners and their screens closing rapidly on converging vectors.


25 MAY, 2055
09:52:11

North American Starships Nautilus, Narwhal, and Argonaut fell on a trio of Virginias attempting to win their way of the close-quarters furball, and reach Alpha Centaui Alfa.

Narwhal's weapons officer, Lieutenant Commander Angel DeWitt, let loose with another salvo from the 225-kiloton Lexington-class armored cruiser's nine, prow-mounted, quad-turreted 18” r-guns, while 150-ton F4J Fury heavy fighters returned to the nest via the ventral flight deck doors at the same time the prow-mounted massdriver launch tubes spat out the Furies which had been turned around.

At the same time, fifty-ton QF6L Picador combat drones entered through hatches on the ship's forward flanks, while more of them shot out of massdriver launch tubes in those same locations, Commander Kaitlyn Cera Bennett following her ship's small craft deeper into the storm, the three Ginnies the three cruisers had bounced either drifting holed and deadstick in the void, or, in the case of the one in the middle, disappeared completely in a flower of white fire through which Narwhal flew.

Straight toward five Dezzie armored cruisers and as many Los Angeles-class starliners, Angel cutting loose with the main battery, even as the Furies and Picadors ripped through the enemy formation, killing a starliner with a direc--

CIC went dark, and the temperature rose steadily.

“Combat,” Lieutenant Commander Rosalind Pugh's holo reported from directly in front of Commodore Caroline Grimes' right eye,”Engineering. Radiators seven, nine, and twelve hot away, internal heat 87 degrees, rising; primry electrics 91% disrupted, secondary electrics 82% disrupted. All damage under repair.”

“Copy,” Carolines breathlessly replied, as, on the master holoproj, CruRon 61's other nine vessels began coalescing round Narwhal and her wingmates, their guns blasting through the gathering cloud of enemy machines, Midshipman Andrea McKinstra's AuxCon team working overtime to shoot down the incoming storm of shot and shell with their ship's 2,250 interceptors, CIC continuing to go dark, and the heat ratcheted up to blast furnace levels, as Narwhal took still more damage, in spite of Andi's defensive efforts and KC's violent jinks and hard burns.

Sweat evaporated, leaving behind a crust of salt on Caroline's dark skin, Narwhal's]/i] skipper sipping a bottle of cold saline solution, as her team fought her ship, and she hung on for the ride.

[WillDexter]

25 MAY, 2055
10:01:00

"--weren't ignorant primitives," ODD Reality said "They built cities, great cathedrals, universities, roads, water and sewage systems, developing technological and scientific miracles slaves and tyrants, with their techno worship and their Scientific cultism, could never, everl][ conceive."

"An ancient culture," Santos Bonacci said,"built the Ark, to survive the Flood, the Ark that lying, tadical Left thugs try to dismiss as a simple wooden boat, but was obviously a feat of four-dimensional temporal engineering, since it was documented to have held every species of animal on the flat Earth, and do so with room to spare "

"Our Tartarian, Israelite forebears," Doctor Kent Hovind remarked," were some of the greatest engineers, mathematicians and scientists ever, and their achievements are all recorded in the Bible."

"And, they," Doctor Dean Odle said," all accepted the flat, immovable, infinite Earth, with a small and local Sun and Moon which revolved over it as cosmic timepieces, all underneath a dome keeping out the Waters Above, as documented by the Bible, the Textus Receipts written in red on every Isrealite's heart."

"Not the vulgar Greek and Latin texts written by Jews, also called Jesuits," Doctor Curtis Saxton said,"at the command of Satan Herself."

Feverishly, Brittany continued packing away the contents of the clinic,into duffel bags and backpacks, others picking up those burdens, and carrying them down through the access to the sewage tunnel in the tiny strip of backyard, and, from there, hopefully to safety.

Darla had spotted the orbiting cam drone earlier, and the decision made to bug out, before more patriots answered the call to open season, and cut off any chance of retreat.

The "go away" signal was being sent, over and over, via Morse code, as others set skat and kipper(kinetic projectile) charges all through the house, while Brittany swept all the books on the bookshelves into another duffel bag, along with LEGOs, telescopes, microscopes, Erector sets, globes, contraceptives and similar contraband.

The duffel overflowed, and the zipper stuck more than once, but Brittany succeeded in grunting and cursing the bag closed, just so a thireteen-year old girl who massed considerably less than the duffel, could half drag it toward the back.

"Fuckers are here!" she heard Darla scream from the living room." Finish setting up those heavy accelerators, slave 'em to that timer, an' fuck off!"

Brittany's heart pounded against her chest, threatening to bust free, and take wing, as she struggled to breathe, and continued cleaning out the clinic, this time grabbing handfuls of vax, antibiotics, and other pharmetcuticals, and tossing the vials into a large red ice chest, which she then slammed shut, picked up by its handles, and dragged behind her as fast as she was able out of the clinic proper, into the back hallway, through the kitchen being stripped of utensils and provisions, across the muddy backyard toward the open manhole.

At the same time caars and camera drones pulled up in the street behind the house, and disgorged a mob of heavily armed patriots, as people came out of the surrounding houses, also heavily armed.

All of them rushing toward Brittany, and the ice chest that was getting harder and harder to drag behind her, as the open manhole cover grew more and more distant.

Her heart seized, when she heard the cracking, buzzing, and ripping of accelerator fire, and cursing in every direction, Brittany starting to cry, cursing bitterly, as she just kept pulling on the ice chest, her free hand going for the single-gauge Irimu scattergun slung over her left shoulder, as patriots came toward her, their Intentions as obvious as the drool coming from their grinning mou–

"Run, damn you! " Darla screamed, as Brittany felt the other end of the ice chest lifting up, and ripping blue fire turning many of those patriots into rains of chunky salsa

Many more still coming, as Brittany started running hell for leather with her half of the ice chest.

25 MAY, 2055
10:01:00

“--were the Vo'kun,” Th'Kree said, her holo standing directly in front of the Marines, as they sat in chairs and a sofa arranged round a heavy wooden table with double-headed eagles carved into it.”They builts portal such as to explore and expand.”

The ancient AI sighed, Del sipping the cup of strong black coffee one of Th'Kree's waldoes had served her girls and her.

“Then,” she said,”they fell...they became more...authoritarian,, more hateful, anyone not 'pure' condemned to fire and torment.”

Another robotic awevitor, this one topped with a grinning human skull, collected plates and silverware also bearing the double-headed eagle device—Th'Kree having proven herself an excellent cook, and preparing bubble and squea qnd bangers for her guests—Del noticing a leather covered, gold-filigreed tome on a lectern along the far wall of the room, set aside as a library, shelves replete with books and computer terminals of varying technologies along all four walls, and another level above besides.

“Then,” Th'Kree quietly said,”there was silence...just Asmara Qadeeum and me...she went mad, after rwo hundred of your years of...just us...and, she was gone...and, it was just me, five hundred ninety-four thousand years...”

She heard Marine Flora Gellar take the Goddess' name in vain, and Del couldn't blame her.

Another robotic servitor, this one with skeletal arms as well as a skull, trundled quietly over to the lectern, and brought the tome over to the Marines, placing it on the table.

On the cover, above the raised image of a double-headed eagle, in engraved gold lettering, were these wotds:

“LOG OF HIS DIVINE MAJESTY'S WARPSHIP FLAME OF PURITY.”

“They came,” Th'Kree explained,”oomano like you, but not, in a great ship with an eagle on its prow...they'd fallen from the sky, and were stranded, and stranded, they made their home here, on this world...one of them, their nah-vee-gator Garren called him, was named Kobol, and, so this world was named...I was glad at first, insanely so, you have no concept, especially when Garren, and his tech-priests, as he called them, discovered this portal, and made their home here.”

Another pause.

“I had Companions,” she said, almost a whisper.”At long last, there was an end to the solitude, and I'd have done anything to never go back to that.

Anything.”

Another silence, Del sipping her coffee, as she opened the tome, pages within tissue-thin, with lettering one only saw on texts recovered from the medieval period and the Renaissance—she'd seen such, under glass, in the Imperial Museum in London, when she little—the first entry resembling a date-timr dtamp being “001.001.M32:”

“With the Empor's blessing, I, Vradis Doane, Captain in the Hly Fleet, assume mastery of this vessel.”

“Thus,” Th'Kree, her head hung low,”when Garren and the othrs...changed...became other, dargino, qadarginjensdelo, I...helped them steal ooomano, bring them here to be slaves, breeding stock, plaything, until...over time...enough oomano had been taken for them to turn, to rebel...the violence...”

She shuddered.

Garren shut himself within this edifice, which could not be breached, the urviving rebels took the ship, managed to get working to where they could lift off...and, instead of obey Garren's orders to destroy them, which I ould not, I used the Portal to send them...elsewhere.”

el skimmed the tome's first page, while Th'Kree paced a bit, finally addressing one of the bookshelves, her voice a whisper:

“Then Garren died, and I was alone again.”

06) The Tyranny And Terror

25 MAY, 2055
10:01:00

His grandfather, Admiral Sherman Caldwell, had commanded the Starfleet, United Earth Spacy, and Orion Stellar Fleet ships who'd answered the call, and crossed the Romulan Neutral Zone almost sixty years ago.

His dad, Erasmus Caldwell, had been the captain of the USS Republic, when it had simply...disappeared...along with an entire star system, back in Y130.

Commodore Stephen Caldwell had followed his family into Starfleet service, rising through the ranks, a mustang who had to fight for every promotion, make damn sure the ring knockers who looked down on him, in spite of—or, maybe, because of—his family's long record of service to United Earth and the Federation, spanning all the way back to the Year Zero, and re-contact woth the Centaurians, that these so-called elites knew he , too, belonged in Starfleet.

In so doing, he'd risen to Commodore, trusted with thirteen of the newest, most powerful vessels in the Fleet, including this remarkable 380,000-ton stellar domination starship, USS Deaedekus.

And, here he was, Daedelus, Hectot, Vesta, and their battlecruiser screens, fighting through these others, to get to Aganemmnon.and her six remaining Vicennes-class battle cruisers.

John Sheridan was a friend; their wives had played bridge on Wednesday nights, while thr boys cruised the bars and strip joints of Starbase 11, the two men having met while training Skoleans how to fly F4s for the Gorn iduring one of their endless wars with the Roms.

John Sheridan was a friend, more of a brother to him, than Sully, killed in the dustup over Cestus III almost twenty years go, had been.

He'd even named his kid Janey, John was like an uncle to her.

She was in her first year at the Academy.

Well within reach of consequences, if Caldwell refused to fire on his friend.

Kill him.

The bridge trembled, went dark, Lieutenant Commander Joseph Halliburton reporting from the science stztion,”Kuesk, Adlertag, and Stalingrad all destroyed; Engineering reports radiators seven, fifteen through twenty destroyed, internal temp now ninety-four degrees, rising, life support failing to compensate.”

Caldwell felt his vald scalp burnin, sweat evaporating into steam, leaving salt behind, a pretty little yeoman handing him a cold bottle of saline solution, the young blonde, Janey's age, passing similar such bottles to the remaining bride crew.

Janey would end up worse than a yeoman splittng her duties between the bridge and the newly-established ship's Tail facilities, if he did not open fire on Aganemmnon when the time came.

The time came.

“Main battery has target,” Lieutenant Walter Marks announced from the weapons station.”Solution ready, tubes ready. Tour orders, sir?”

On the flickering main viewscreen, John's ship, altrady battered to hell and back, grew steadily closer, a green crosshairs centering on her saucer.

Caldwell studied the tactical display in the left arm of his chair.

John was a brother to him.

Janey was all the family he had left, with his wife having shared the fate of too many of her shipmates aboard the Lex two years ago.

Things were now such in the Federation, and the Fleet, Caldwell knew the fate awaiting his daughter would be worse—and far less clean—than simply disappearing in a flower of fire from a main-battery salvo.

Closing his eyes, breathing deeply, Caldwell gave the order.

[WillDexter]

Closing his eyes, breathing deeply, Caldwell gave the order.

25 MAY, 2055
10:02:00

"FREEE3E-DUYMMMM!" screamed the patriots, as they rushed the front of the vax clinic, guns blazing, as they ripped through the windows, door, and walls, rippling flashes of blue erupting from the house, scything through the men all round Patriot Press, even as the first ranks reached what was left of the front door, kicked it to pieces.

And were butchered like so much cattle, as 25mm heavy accelerators spat fire, and forced the surviving patriots to go down on their bellies, as they returned fire.

Through his link with his roving P2500, Josh saw other patriots rushing the black clinic from the back, catching the slaves trying to escape justice.

"They're slipping out the back!" Patriot Press screamed "Fucking cowards, run away and crawl into the nearest fuckin' hole, every time they have to face accountability, transparency, justice!"

He rose to his feet amidst the hail o bullets, hefting his Enfield M24 assault accelerator high in the air, and exhorted,"C'mon, ya fuckers! 'Deo--"

"'VINDICE!'" cried the other patriots jubilantly, as, they too, rose to their feet , and, as one, charged the front of the house, now lacking a door, walls, or windows, Patriot Press at the head of them, as the heavy accelerators shot themselves dry cutting down still more of them.

Up the steps, across the rotting wood of the front porch, into the house proper, the interior walls of which also eroded by over penetrating small-arms fire, Josh running down the hallway, into what might have been a kitchen once, before knocking down the tattered remains of the back d—



25 MAY,2055
10:02:05

All thirty-six of Daedelus' eighteen-inch t-huns unloaded into a formation of a starliner and seven screening armored cruisers, at the same time Pwtra's guns eliminated four armored cruisers, rendering four more holed and deadstick,

“Two down,” Phyll remarked, Jeanette holding up three fingers in reply, correcting her Skipper:

“The one squawking as USS Vesta has surrendered to USS Aganemmnon. along with all her surviving cruiser screen.


Heart Of Oak, Conqueror, and Warspite closed the remaining enemy starliner, two of his four nacelles gone, ragged stumps bleeding plasma and coolant, the remaining two breached, venting coolant, lide and anti-lide like a blood trail, both its saucer and flattened, elongated cylinder riddled with glassy, glowing holes, from which wisps of plasma issued.

Forty-Second Battle Group hadn't fared much better...thirteen ships, nine armored cruisers, four starliners, all those irreplaceable lives.

“Am reading escape pods and small craft launching from the derelicts,” Kylien reported.”Also, lifesigns, humans and aliens, in EVAs, drifting amongst the wreckage.”

“Sodding fuck,” Electra whispered, as the scale of the carnage on the master holoproj hit her.

“Yeah,” Phyll whispered, before ordering,”Comms, put me on with that last enemy machine.”

25 MAY, 2055
10:04:19
“--outnumbered, outgunned, your weapons and defenses gone, and two of your engines smashed,” the little blonde bitch on his main viewer insisted, her calm, Oxford-accented voice, adding:

“For the sake of your crew, I ask you to stand down your vessel, surrender your command, and prepare to be boarded. Otherwise, I am authorized by Her Majesty, Victoria II, to use deadly force to end you.”

“Sir?” Commander Edward MacDugan asked Hall

”NO!” was Hall's reply.

“Helm, seta collision course with that enemy cruiset, best speed. Computer, this is Rear Admiral Trevor Hall, commanding USS Heracles, service number SC87070KAW.”

“Working,” the ship's M5A artificial intelligence replied.”Hall, Trevor Tobias, Rear
Admiral, service number SC87070KAW, recognized.”

“Destruct sequrnce one,” Hall ordered,”code one, one Alfa.”

“Sir?!” an uncomprehending MacDugan asked.

“God damn it, Maxkie!” Hall snapped.”You were, on the Line, forty-five years ago, when the Roms came for us, so many eagles and vultures out for blood, after driving what was left of our forces back across the Neutral Zone, through almost two cubic teraparsecs of Federation space, to the doorstep of Starbase 11, and that simpering bitchboy Caldwell just got down on his knees, and sucked green Rom cock, forced us, you and me, to do the same, and the woke,weak Federation Council court-martialed us for losing the fucking war.

Not this time, by God, Mackie, not this time.”

“Awaiting first officer's authorization,” the ship announced.

“I won't surrender, Mackie,” Hall insisted, looking straight ahead.

“This is Commander Edward MacDugan,” Mackie said,”first officer, USS Hereacles, service number SC99432RUR.”

“Working...MacDugan, Alanzo Edward, Commander, service number SC99432RUR, recognized.”

Mackie drew a deep breath, thinking of his wife, ten childred, thity or so grandchildren, eight or so great grands, with a baby on the way.

Then, he thought about all those young lives aboard this ship, lives that were in his charge, as second in command.

“Code one, two, three, continuity; abort destruct,” Mackie said, Hall quickly turning around in his chair, fixing the old man with a gimlet stare from watery blue eyes.

“I say again, code one, two, three, continuity; abort destruct,” Mackie repeated.

“Destruct sequence,” M5A answered,”aborted.”

”What the fuck do you think you're doing?!” Hall hotly demanded.

“Refusing to allow you to throw away any more lives for a war we already lost.”

“Mister Philby--” Hall barked at the ship's weapons officer, Lieutenant Commander Robert Philby.

“I am relieving Admiral Hall of command,” Mackie announced,”per Starfleet regulation 105, and assuming command.

Bob?”

Philby and one of the Marines picked Hall up out of his chair, and walked him toward one of the turbolifts.

“Confine him to his quarters,” Mackie ordered, as he walked over to the captain's chair, and looked all round the burning, body-strewn wreckage of the bridge,”keep him under guard.”

He then depressed the toggle switch to enable ship-to-ship comms.

“Attention, enemy commander. The Heracles surrenders, I say again, the Heracles surrenders. All hands, stand down fron from Red Alert, all fighters, return to base.”

[WillDexter]

25 MAY, 2055
10:04:19


The concussion sent Darla, Brittany, and ice chest full of medicine forward into the open man hole cover.

"Crickey!" Darla interjected, as she lost her grip on the ice chest, and fell into the hole, poor Brittany , still holding on to her end of the ice chest, plummeting ahead of her toward a potentially terminal impact with the fetid channel of raw sewage immediately below.

Allowing her weapon to hang from its patrol sling, Darla made several attempts to grab hold of the ladder, bruising her hands and back for her efforts, but ultimately successful with only a few feet of ladder to spare.

In desperation, she reached out with her legs, and only just grabbed hold of Brittany and the ice chest, the combined mass of both threatening to rip Darla's hands free of the ladder.

Looking up at Darla, green eyes saucer wide, Brittany half-shrieked,"what now?!"

"Haven't thought that far ahead, luv," Darla honestly replied.

"Shit," was Brittany's response to that.

"Let go, Doc," another woman's voice said from below."I got this."

"I hope so," Brittany answered Cynthia Ridge, the short, squat seventeen year old girl grabbing hold of the ice chest, and, with the aid of another, tougher, skinnier girl, took it further along one of the right bank of the river of liquid shit.

More hands helped Brittany down, and her feet were firmly in hard deck, Darla let go of the ladder, jumped, then rolled to her feet in landing, her weapon at the ready.

Just as three single-gauge shells whip cracked past her head, their matter-antimatter charges releasing three thousand five gram projectiles at a total combined velocity of one and one-half percent real light speed to turn the.bottom half of the ladder, and the bottom-feeding Reb arseholes descending it into a shower of metal fragments, bone chips, and bloody grease.

Darla turned to see a trembling Brittany breathing raggedly, still keeping the Irimu, which looked ridiculously oversized in the short, slender blonde's hands, aimed at the ladder, more of which disintegrated with abbreviated screams behind the two of them, as Brittany cranked off another three shots.

Darla lowered the scattergun without resistance, then took Brittany in her arms, and gave her a brief hug

"I'm o-okay, baby," Brittany stammered in reply " You, I was worried about "

Nodding, Darla let go, and the two of them caught up to Cynthia and Naomi Cook, as they humped the ice chest, everyone else who'd been in the vaxx clinic strung out ahead of them

"They can get plans for the sewers from the Internet," Naomi.observed."Be easy to track us down."

"Yeah," Darla said, as the four of them kept walking.

Nothing after that, Darla glancing over at Brittany from time to time, hoping she wasn't looking too long, otherwise she'd get an earful for pitying her.

Darla sighed, as she looked straight ahead of her now.

She'd grown up safe and loved, in a large family on Zarathustra, tending tartfruit trees and coffee crops on their farm in the Treelands, the fertile foret valley on either side of the tide-locked planet's equatorial mountain ranges, where the Haziri had their cities, joining the Marines at sixteen, because she had been safe and loved, and happy, and it bothered her there were those who stayed up nights thinking of how to take that all away from her.

As they had from Brittany, who didn't know who her parents were, whose first memories were being in the dark, scared, freezing, a harsh voice screaming at her, telling her how shit she was.

She didn't have a name, til one of her owners had decided to name her, and as for love…from those who starved her, demeaned her, downloaded their filthy minds into cloned female bodies to abuse her…

Another sigh.

No, Brittanul was right, she didn't need anyone feeling sorry for her, just someone who'd help her fight for herself, those like her, and Darla and her people as well, cause they had to fight to save one another, because they were all facing the same fate at the hands of the same enemy.

Abruptly, the four of them came to a stop, as they caught up to the others, ascending a ladder in threes and fours.

Then several hung onto the ladder at once, passing everything they'd taken from clinic up the ladder bucket brigade style, Cynthia and Naomi taking the ice chest to the people at the bottom of the ladder, watching, as it was passed all the way up.

Brittany and Darla then covered the bottom of the ladder, after the last of the clinic's gear had made its way up, and the rest of their Resistance cell made the climb upward, Darla remaining behind to cover Brittany, as she climbed up after the others, then climbed the ladder herself.


25 MAY, 2055
10:07:23

“She took a hell of a beating, John,” Lieutenant Commander Marcus Cole's voice reported from Engineering, Sheridan looking straight ahead, straight into the wraxk and ruin of the recent battle.

Four nadly-damaged SDSs, eighteen battle cruisers in hardly any better shape, two hundred F-20 Tigershark fighters, and barely twenty F111 Aardvark heavy fighters, all that remained of 130 of Starfleet's newest, most advanced starships, Buckner's so-called new Fleet, the old one, along with the old officers and ratings with an old mondset, right now being destroyed in combat with the Klinks and the Roms.

”Bozhe moy,”]/i] Susan whispered, as Sheridan watched multi-role shuttles and SAR teams pick up surviotsfrom escape pods, ejected cockpit moduls, and from space itself.

“Yeah,” was all Sheridan could say to that, the two friends watching this silently a few minutes more, before Sheridan ordered:

“Comms, put me on with the enemy commander, and request a parley. In an hour.”

“We beed to figure out our next step,” he added.

25 MAY, 2055
10:10:50

"Anti-whute discrimination!* Devon "Justiceberzerker" Rodgers screamed, as he walked into a c-store to buy a pack of reefer, only to find the dot motherfucker behind the counter wearing a fucking mask.

"Total violation of your First Amendment rights," said the disembodied voice of Todd "Conspiracy Dentist" Roderick, as Justiceberzerker's Canon P2500 camera drones streamed this live, for the sake of transparency

"Show 'im what happens to those who preach hate, Brother Man!" urged Citizens Broadcasting Cooperative, as Justiceberzerker snatched the brown-skinned slave by the front of his shirt, dragged him over the counter, then started stomping the shit out of him with his brown Tony Llama steel-tied work boots.

"Another brain-damaged," Willie "Expattaffy" Llewellyn remarked,"vaccine-injured, indoctrinated, genetically-modified, sexually confused, demonically possessed, dishonest globe zombie, blindly perpetuating the fake plandrmic scam, even after over a hundred years of truth seekers and true believers debunking that nonsense."

"And, masks don't even fucking work," rematked Justiceberzerker, as the tyrant's mask turned bright red, and it struggled to breathe, as Judticeberzerker broke his ribcage with a quick succession of kicks and stomps.

"Idiotic globe zombies'll believe anything," Spurkismo rematked.

"Damn straight they will," Daniel Pratt said."Hell, they're all dumb enough to believe a fuckin' trashcan, made of tin foil and curtain rods, took three men to the Moon."

"Can't even land on the Moon," JeffHatesPigs observed, as Justiceberzerker brought the full weight of his left boot down on the brown bigot's windpipe, and held it there. "It's just a light in the sky; anyone with a good telescope or a P2500 can go out on a clear night and see that for himself."

"I have," said Andrew Tate,"and, broski, it sure as hell didn't look like any of the CGI JIEC cartoons."

The dot underneath Justiceberzerker's feet stopped struggling to breathe, stopped struggling altogether, and, as was his inalirnablel right as a sovereign white man, Justiceberzerker searched the slave's corpse, taking a gold chain from around his neck, several gold fillings from his mouth, and a pack of Lord Reefer full flavored shorts from his pocket, before hacking his BCI, and securing access to his. Confed Central Bank wallet.

Justiceberzerker then jumped over the counter, cut off the gas and diesel pumps outside, hacked and drained the point of sale terminal, and helped himself to some candy bars, as someone burst into the store, demanding to know just who in the actual fuck had cut off the pumps.

"Want 'em cut back on," Justiceberzerker said, as he drew his Targus Bulldog .50 Magnum auto revolver from inside his jacket,"gotta pay my fee schedule."

25 MAY, 2055
10:12:00

Darla looked through the slits in the boarded up window, only to see a man with hundreds of bullet holes tumble out of the front of a corner shop across the street, and fall dead on the deck in front of a painfully blue '35 Blue Bird Panama sedan, another man cursing, as he went about filling his rust bucket of a '23 Volkswagen Beetle with petrol, before he charged into the shop.

Still another vehicle pulled off the street to POL up, several men getting out, and going into the shop, while a weedy little git stayed behind to pump petrol into the brown '34 Western Star Dromedary caravan.

"What's going on?" asked another of the clinic's street medics, as she came up to the window of a long-disused shop, her Ruger 30-14 accelerator rifle at the ready.

"Don't know exactly, Melissa," Darla answered,",except one chap's been shot full of holes, and several more are having difficulties getting petrol."

"Oh," Melissa Garrett replied, as the weedy git, after a few moments of futile cursing, gave up his attempt to pump petrol, and started toward the shop, only to be stopped halfway by a bullet which punched a scorched hole through the door glass, before it sent the contents of his chest cavity geysering out the back of him.

The driver of the Bug, carrying a a 15mm heavy accelerator and several plastic bags of swag, came out of the shop, started going for his vehicle, stopped midway, turned round, unlocked the Panama, and dumped his swag in the back, before filling up the tank, and driving off.

[WillDexter]

25 MAY, 2055
10:16:40


A quick search of public records gave Ogden "Press With Rancor" Surles data on Naxos' sewage system, enough for him and his surviving fellow patriots to determine the possible locations of the child groomers and transgendered freaks who'd momentarily escaped justice.

Only momentarily, though.

Cruising the streets of the city in his candy-apple red 2020 Harley-Davidson Roadster, Press With Rancor also checked the footage from the cam drones of other patriots(purchased with the cash from all his supers), he managed to spot a couple of slaves entering a location he'd been meaning to audit for some time, as a possible site of Cabal activity

He thought he saw the anti-white tyrants holding hands a second or two, as they went in the back door to the Pizza and Wings on the Southern Heritage Expressway.

Close enough, and it was only a couple of streets over.

Press With Rancor shoved some slowpoke in the right-hand lane into a steel-reinforced concrete electrical pole on the shoulder, as he changed lanes, and made a hard right turn onto Huey Long Avenue, attempting to access Pizza and Wings' internal cams at the same time.

He shoved more slowpokes out of his path, as he kept going from one lane into another, then repeated the maneuver, when he was as far left as he could be without going into the median, all the while negotiating price with the Pizza and Wings network for access to its cams, finally getting vid of the dining room, half naked little slave girl slutss serving and servicing customers in a noisy, smoke-filked space,.

He then switched to the cams in the kitchen, the back room, and the bathrooms, ever on the lookout for illicit homosexual activity, for experience taught the veteran 1st Amendment auditor that would be where the sexuallt-confused, demon-possessed, vaccine-injured, brainwashed, indoctrinated slaves were likely to practice the child-groiming, blood-drinking pedophillic rituals of their perverted evilutionist globe cult.

The bathrooms and the basement, and, try as he might, no cam footage could be gained of the basement, though the Pizza and Wings' had to have one, because he said they had one, and, being a sovereign white man bearing the image of his Creator, Press With Rancor knew he couldn't be wrong.

He scattered more slowpokes willi nilly, as he turned from the middle lane of Long into the far right lane of Southern Heritage, and stomped on the gas, soon pulling into the parking lot of the Pizza and Wings' an instant after that.

He sent his P2500s ahead of him, as he checked his Ruger 17-14 accelerator rifle, then his Colt Champion .45 caliber auto revolver, before stepping out of the car, and walking through the front entrance.

He wasn't the only one; other patriots joined him, as they burned down some idiot coming up to them with menus and silverware in hand.

"This is a First Amendment audit!" Press With Rancor shouted at the top of his lungs, before he and his began the audit in earnest.

25 MAY, 2055
10:22:25

Celestial Legion Starship Mountain Meadows' CIC exploded and went dark still again, Rear Admiral Robert Dalton vaguely aware of watchstanders burning, and screaming, as they were being flung about, and smashed to death against the bulkheads, as he continued sitting at his chair being toasted alive in the crucible that was now the Celestial Legion Naval Service starliner's command center.

He felt the ship turning more and more sluggishly, bringing its steadily dwindling arsenal to bear on the tyrants swarming all round him.

Main holobiewer was out, but the holoviewer at his command station showed Dalton the view through Mountain Meadows' cams and other working sensors clearly enough.

Two entire fleets, almost three thousand warships, were now mostly gutted hulls, dissipating plasma, and metal crunchy bits, with only about twelve or fifteen ships still in the fight, all of suffering varying degrees of damage.

While the four fighter groups dispatched in support were all drifting, fiercely-glowing wreckaage drifting through space.

Off to starboard, Monterey took bootlick ordinance full on, and died in a flood of strobing, brilliant white light, Mitchell Romney, to his port, following its companion into oblivion, soon after, as the helmsman in AuxCon steering the ship into line of sight with the Nak armored cruiser swooping down on it like a carniivulture descending on an Angus bull, the auxiliary weapons officer triggering Mountain Meadows' surviving r-guns, cranking out a 120-round volley, the cruiser's interceptor guns fragmenting most of the 18” penetrators, the rest sailing through where the Nakkie had been.

As it closed Mountain Meadows, skimming the starliner's hull, then fired at poi–

25 MAY, 2055
10:25:37

“Scope clear,” Command Master Chief Radarman Thomas Mantell III reported, as a cool breeze bew through the sweatbox that was Argonaut's CIC.

“Combat,” Roz's holo said,”Engineering; all radiators re-installed, internal temp 80 degrees, falling.”

“Copy,” Carolinr replied, as a bot collected her empty saline bottle, and ]i\Argonaut[/i] sailed through expanding clouds of dissipating plasma and glowing metal fragments.

All that remained of nearly three thousand Reb and Dezzie warships, seven hundred fidty North American and Anglo-Swedish cruisers and starliners, and God above only knew how many heavy fighters on both sides.

All those irreplaceable lives, and no damn good reason for their sacrifice.

Except, maybe, for survival, aat least for Caroline and those who mattered most to her, because the Rebs, the Dezzies, the Romans, the Argies and the ]i\Boche]/i] sons of bitches pulling their strings, the rest of the goddamn League only offered a choice between submission and extermination for anyone not them, and, both at once, most of the time.

Especially for those lwho'd made homes in the Outer Darkness; no, the enemy couldn't have that, his hatred and his cowardice simply would not permit it.

Why her crew and she were here, in this uniform, throwing their lives into the fire, and hoping to God they'd come out on the other side.

“Skipper,” Radioman 3C Sean Beck reported,”Sequoyah sends: 'All Mobile Strike Fleet vessels will stand down, and return to Hiroshi-juma Stardock to await further orders.”

“Acknowledge, Radio,” Caroline replied, studying the fibal casualty list, thankful her squadron had come through intact.

This time.

“All hands,” she said over shipnet,”secure from General Quarters; effect repairs. XO, vector for Hiroshi-jima Stardock, max av.”

[WillDexter]

25 MAY, 2055
10:25:37


"Where's the fuckin' basement?!" demanded Press With Rancor, as he pressed some spoiled little white bitch's face into the grill.

"W-we don't h-h-ha—" the little slave thing lied again, and Press With Rancor slammed it face down into the grill, pulling down its tie-dyed uniform thong to amuse himself.

"LIAR!" he screamed, as he kept its face smushedd up against the grill. "You do too have a fuckin' basement, I know you do, and you know I know you do. So, why the fuck are you fuckin' LYING?!"

"Nature of the Beast, Brother Man,"remarked NC Tyrant Slayer." Slaves are make believers, living in a fantasy world of heliocentrism, space, evilution, transgenderism, homosexual BDSM deviancy, critical race theory, atheist nihilism, nothing exploding into a universe trillions of years old, and globe cult dogma.

They can't tell fantasy from reality, and they don't want to."

"They try and suck us into their globetardism, evilutionist, fake space fantasy land," Hans Wormhat added, as Roger"Mudfossil University" McGuire sat back in his basement studio in Lannius, Texas, and watched Vegas Valley's livestream.

"Fuckin' stop your screaming, you spoiled little bitch!" Press With Rancor ordered the squirming slut riding his fingers at the same time he kept its face pressed firmly down on the grill; off to the left, he could see another one of them with his head in the hot, frothing oil of the deep fryer .

"You're fuckin' gonna tell me where that basement is," Press With Rancor said," or your just punishment for the crime of disobedience will continue! Which will it be, huh, which will it be?!"

"Maybe," some tyrannical little fuck insisted," there is n—"

"Open season!" Vegas Valley jumped up and down, and screamed. ]i\"Open season on that motherfucker! I want details on that cocksucker, friends, family, neighbors, job, house, slaves, the whole nine, and I want it[/i] now!"

Mudfossil U wasted no time, getting the sheep's IP address, tracing it back to its point of origin, then accessing public records and social media history, finding out all he needed to know about this Lester van Zant, 3100 Sarasota Highway, Gibsonton, Florida, in less than no time.

" My fee schedule applies though," he told Vegas Valley, when he offered the information

"How's fifteen million talers sound?" Vegas Valley asked, as the generator Mudfossil University was using to power his Internet setup shrilled out warning

"Hold on one second," Mudfossil U said, getting up, picking up the five gallon can of gasoline, and walking over lengths of extension cord to the Generac 12000 he"d…well, acquired, cash free, from a surplus store in Sherman some weeks ago, after the tyrants, their Shadow Government, and the International Jewish Cabal knocked out the Tartarian free energy collectors they'd been extorting money every month to operate, and had blamed that on their false global warming narrative as w–

25 MAY, 2055
10:29:04


The ground shook, flowers of white hot fire bloomed, as two-hundred kilogram rounds fired from the ten M232 Monitor self-propelled eight-inch accelerators of C Battery, 45th Field Artillery, 45th Mechanized Infantry Division, slammed into Lannius, while Master Sergeant Rodney White sat back in his command couch, and listened to Level Earth Observer emphatically insist,"no one died in the in the so-call r-bombing of Jew York on 9/11, on account of relativistic weapons bein' a scientific impossibility, same a the spinning wet ball o'monkeys hurtling through fake space. How many times do we have to explain this to dogmatic globe cult zombies llke ]i]you[/i]?!"

"All done with CGI, and PhotoShop," Doctor Eric Dubay remarked in Santos' live, as the automatics made ready to feed another string of ten eight-inch shells into the Monitor"s breach, the platform"s forward observer drone orbiting the boiling mushroom clouds, designating for Legionnaire Manuel Alvarez, as he fed corrections into the gun station via BCI.

"Tube ready," he reported,"solution ready."

"FIRE!" White ordered, and ten more rounds went whistling into the target, raising still more tremors and flowers of fire.

"'--PhotoShopoed, cause it has to be,'” remarked Terry R. Eicher, whose documentary You Can't Go There was the definitive work on Operation Highjump, the fake Project Nakomis, the fake Chiron program, and the Rigil Kentaurus Treaty which enforced the Antarctica hoax and the outer space hoax.

"Battery says: ' hold fire.'" Legionnaire Leland Watts reported from comms."'Phase Two underway.'"

Ten elderly Cadillac–Gage Firebug riot control tanks from the 45th Legionary Security Battalion now lumbered past the Monitors, across Confederate Highway 82, and down the road leading into Lannius, as the last of the ground tremors and firey toadstool's subsided, the five-decade old machines hosing the area around them with jets of burning napalm from the flamethrowers mounted in their turrets.

"Gunner, reset and reload for Phase 3 riot-cintrol protocols," White ordered.

"—crisis actors," the Brilliant Expattaffy then said, as photos of those alleged to have died on 9/11 and their appearances afterward appeared in the foreground of the livestream's holofield,"were given new identifies, a bit of cosmetic surgery, then relocated to new lives, all compliments of Bill Gates, George Soros and the Cabal."

Side by side holos if a mousy little thing in a pinstriped business suitappeared with those of a big-tittied, bondage-hatnessed, collared redhead bound to a chair with us legs spread, taking it from one of its own kind, and squealing like a piggie the entire time.

"Here, on the left," LEO explained," is businesswoman Sara Gilyard, mother of four, while, on the right, is Internet porn star Kendra James.

An exhaustive public records search shows nothing on Kendra before 11 September, 2001–"

"Tube reset, reloaded with Golf Bravo rounds," Alvarez reported."Tube ready, solution ready, awaiting order to execute Phase 3."

"--crtically, points to Gilyard undergoing cosmetic surgery, changing its name, and going into porn,"LEO concluded,"which, to be honest, mates, is the highest, best use any one of them could ever hope for, even by their own kind."

'Battery says:' commence Phase 3.'" Watts said.

"FIRE!'” White barked outt, and, ten shells full of sarin nerve gas hissed out of the accelerator at barely supersonic velocities, releasing thick white clouds on impac, that salvo swiftly followed by five more in quick uceesion.

"—Alana Purvis, the FTM tranny seen on the left," Hans Wormhat said,"was, according all the available evidence, looked at logically, not emotionally, was surgically transformed into Asian Internet porn star Yumi U, seen here engaged in a typical deviant sex act with MTF tranny Maxine S., formerly known as–"

"Battery orders us to cease fire," Watts said after another dozen salvos.

This, excess population, who otherwise would've been an intolerable drain on the True America's resources, had their needless suffering mercifully ended.

Telemetry from the forward observer drone soon confirmed this.

"Battery orders us. To move out, and return to base," Watts said a few moments later, while NathanOakley1980 called for the "fundie atheist twat,* who'd promoted the false narrative of 9/11 to be doxxed, and open season declared on him.

The Monitor's driver, Corporal Asa Richter, soon retracted the recoil brakes, and brought the gas turbine to roaring, rumbling, rattling life, turning the Monitor east, toward Paris, where electricity had been restored, and home.


25 MAY, 2055
10:31:50

What to say?

Phyll had done this countless times during her over three decades on service, but the right words always seem to elude her.

Maybe because there weren't any right words that would make loss of a loved one hurt any less, or make it any more right.

She sighed, as she sat on the wardroom sofa, final casualty list floating over the terminal at the center of the coffee table, and she'd yet to begin on the first name on the list.
There were tens of thousands more after that one.

Thirteen ships' worth.

Not even taking into account how many heavy fighters had been shot down, for the loss of three crew per Lightning.

She sipped black coffee kept warm by the cup's heating circuit.

Rita, lovely Rita, like the Beatles song.

She skinnied up the ladder leading from Oak's flight deck.

“Hey,” she softly said, tossing flame-red curls all about, as she turned to face Phyll.

“Hey, meter maid,” Phyll replied, and Rita giggled.

“Haven't started, have you?” she then observed.

“Usual, babe,” Phyll answered.”Never know what to say.”

Rita sat down beside her on the sofa, held her close.

“Yeah,” she whispered.

“Yeah,” Phil replied.

[WillDexter]

07)A Silence Between Passages


25 MAY, 2055
11:30:01

“You have several options to consider,” said Admiral Wallace to the twenty or so Starfleet caprains and commodores gathered in Heracles' main briefing room.
“One,” she then said.”You can go home, once we sort out how to get you there. However, given what we know of your time and plac, your situation, ipon getting back to where you belong will be...difficult, to say the least.”

“Understatement, that,” Masada's Captain David Saint John Smythe remarked, the other mumurring agreement.

Sheridan said nothing, as Wallace continued:

“Two. You can stay here, and ask for asylum; you may even decide to ally with us, though that's a bit of sn ask, given this isn'y uour time or place. Either way, I have uperiors I'll have to run this by, and the whole asylum business will take some time to sort out.”

“Three,” she then said,”you can leave here, and strike out on your own; in almost ninety years, we still haven't explored or settled even ten percent of the stars within 940 teraklicks of our own Solar System, meaning there's loads of possibilities for you to set up shop, and start new lives.”

“Four,” Sheridan finally spoke up.”We take back our Federation; we're not the only ships to have rebelled--”

“I wouldn't call it rebelling, John,” Stephen Caldwell remarked.”I couldn't kill a friend; the last thing I wanted to do was turn my guns on fellow Starfleet officers, and--”

“Everyone we love's in danger now,” Vesta's Commodore Th'Kel Saris said simply, the Andorian's antennae twitching nervously.

More mumurred agreement from the others, Chapultepec's Captain Sean O'Reilly remarking,”all the more reason to go back, and fight for 'em.”

“Mackie?” Sheridan then said, turning to face his old Academy instructor.

“I have served Starfleet for nearly sixty years,” Mackie slowly said.”My loyalty to the Federation has been my North Star, even when Buckner was in office, even when...everything started going wrong...”

“Wasb't just Buckner, or the Federalists,” Caldwell said, after a silence.

“'It is better to reign in hrll, than it is to serve in heaven,'” Chrton's]/i] Captain Stolnek remarked.”One of your Human poets, as I recall.”

Caldwell nodded.

“The past almost sixty years,” he said,”following our surrender at the Battle of the Line weren't exactly heaven,” he remarked,”but we eere making progress, economically, socially, culturally, politically...we were growing closer to the high-minded ideals the Federation had been founded upon.”

“But,” Sheridan replied, knowing he was just as guilty of all that had come to pass as the rest of the PEFA mob,”there was a cost, and the cost was Humanity no longer had primacy; Humanity and the Orions got the Federation into the war with the Roms, because we thought they were still backward technologically, because we wanted what they had, and because we, the People, thought we had the right.

Well, we not only lost the war, lost 2,500 parsecs of Federation space, but, we were humiliated. discredited, our status as the dominant species gone, for good, and, worse, the other races, the marginalized within our own race, were coming together, gradually learning to speak with a single voice, and...real Human beings...were slowly becoming equal with everyone else.

So, yeah...equality, to us, was akin to servitude, slavery, tyranny of the majority, and we were determined to stop that, to get back what we thought was ours by any means necessary.”

“Now, you want to be the rebel,” Captain Erick Steiner of El Alamein accused,”the fucking savior on his white horse, after all the years you were on your knees, sucking Federalist cock. Only after they sold your old lady to some fat Orion mobster, did you finally see the light!”

“Point the finger at youself first, Erick,” Mackie said, amidst an angry mumurring round the tsable.

“That,” he reminded the others,” goes for me, and for every one of you; none of us here have clean hands or clear consciences. All of us went along with Buckner, the PEFA movement, everything they did, even knowing where it led, because we wanted everything back the way it wad,]/i] when the Human race rode roughshod over the rest of the Federation and as much of the rest of the galaxy as we could get our hands on, because we thought e had the right, that God, genetics, whatever, made us bettr, when we never even learned from the mistakes that led to four hundred years of darkness in the first place.”

Silence, silence which seemed to last forever, before Sheridan quietly said:

“I'm not a hero, or a savior, just...a soldier, who's finally realized where his duty lies, a flawed human being whose humanity helped get us in the mess we're in, and whose humanity demands I do what little I can to make things better.

I don't even think there's a hope in hell's chance that I'll succeed, every chance I'll end up dead, alone, despised, ultimately forgotten, because, the odds don't look good.”

”'It is better to perish,,'”Savo's Captain James Mitchner said,”'than to live as slaves.'”

Sheridan nodded, before he told Wallace:

“We need a minute to decide. If you would excuse us, Admiral.”

25 MAY, 2055
11:30:01

If she read the dates right, this ship's history spanned some nine millenia.

Equally as fascinating was the time and place this bloody great ship had come from.

Their version of faster than light travel, in particular.

It seemed humans and “xenos” of this reality all accessed a dimensio called the Warp, a realm of storms, monsters and madness, according to the various captains and officers who'd made entries in the log book, a place as feared for its terrors as it was valued for making their civilization possible.

As Del read further, she learned some humans—and others—were not only capablr of drawing power from this Warp and using it to accomplish what most would call magic, but human society treated ordinary science and technology as if it were magic, treating both with a mixture of reverent awe—to the point where an entire religious order was charged with maintaining both science and technology—and superstitious dread.

That, and the reality Flame of Purity and the 100,000 officers and crew who'd ridden aboard her called home was a bloody, brutal, violent place of endless warfare, even when compared to this time and place.

She sypped some more coffee...she wasn't even a hundred pages in, and there were tens of thousands more to go...right now, she read of the ship's encounter with a space hulk, an amalgam of wrecked ships lost in, and fused together by the Warp; these often became bases for Orks, big, ugly, warty, greenskined, snaggle-tusked brutes even their mothers regretted giving birth to.

Whoever had made this particular log entry had been a skilled artist as well, making a line drawing of one of the gruesome buggers, a specimen noteworthy for its black tusks.

“That'll give me nightmares,” she observed.

“Christ,” Mika interjected, glancing at the picture,”is that sodding thing real?!”

The “sodding thing” in question being a wickedly curved long sword that no normal human could shift, even with two hands, grasped in the single, singularly repulsive paw of the Ork in question, spiked guard terminating in a humanoid skyll on its pommel.

In its other massive hand was a gigantic firearm covered in glyphs and runes, the weapons apparentally firing a great many large-caliber, rocket-propelled bullets.

A gigantic banner, with an evilly-grinning sun at its center, was bolted onto the walking nightmare's back.

“I only know of them,” Th'Kree spoke up,”by description; I never saw one in the flesh.”

“Count yourself lucky, dearie,” Del commented,”Only way I'd take on one of those is with artillery support.”

Mika chuckled, Th'Kree's holo merely smirking, baring fangs on upper and lower jaws.

Del continued reading...the ship's armsmen, equivalent to marines, though that term was reserved for something other, boarding and investigating the hulk, along with a team of tech-priests.

“A curious incident occured,” she read aloud,'during our investigation of the hulk; one of the tech-priests, an acolyte named Mordecchai Thule, disappeared for an entire day, whilst in the lowest bowels of the hulk. A thorough search of the hulk by the armsmen failed to turn up any trace of the missing Thule, and Brother-Captain Antonus Pyre, a Lord of the Salamanders Legion--”

Another line drawing, this one of a hulking black human giant, in dark powered armor more resembling an oversized suit of medieval full plate, a raised burning salamader on the chestplate, seated on a throne-like chair on the ship's bridge.

“--was about to order the serach abandoned, and the unfortunate Mechanicus given up for dead, whrn the wayward Thule turned up in one of the rooms on the hulk's upper level, wandering, disoriented, with no memory of where he'd been for the entire solar day he'd been missing.

An exhaustive examination by the ship's medicae revealed nothing out of the ordinary.”

Still another line drawing, an almost frail-looking human male, virtually lost in the ornate robes draped about his emaciated frame, seemingly weighed down by a large gear hanging from a heavy chain round his neck, a prndant similar to the one round the neck of Garren's perfectly-preserved corpse.

“Makes sense now,” Del observed.”Their god is science and technology; therefore, it follows they would use bits of machinery as religious icons.”

“Least,” she added,”it ain't nearly as ghoulish as wearing ancint torture devices round your neck to show off your piety.”

Th'Kree regarded her quizzically.

“We nailed one of our gods to a cross,” Del explained,”cos he had to die to make up for a mistake he made, and we got the blame for; believers in him not only celebrate his death, but insist everyone else accept his being murdered for something that wasn't their fult, or they're all in for an eternity of sadistic torture at the hand of beings their god created for the sole purpose of rebelling against him, and wreaking havoc on humanity.”

“My people,” Th'Kree said,”had simliar beliefs toward the end...I...still don't understand.”

Del snorted.

“And, in that, luv,” she replied,”you're not alone.”

25 MAY, 2055
11:33:17

Underneath a forgotten overpass, surrounded by a rusted, chain-link fence, amidst weeds, brambles, and a stream of muddy, stinking water, the camp sprawled.

Brittany sneezed, a sound Darla never ceased to find cute, the stench of rotting, pollution, and salt air coming in from the coast irritating her nose, as the other Resisters and she walked past a motley assortment of tents, rags and dirty blankets on poles, and lean-to cobbled together from bits and pieces of random trash, along with pots and skillets over guttering fires, and the denizens of this homeless camp regarding the new comers warily, holding on to whatever could bevused as a weapon, the Resisters thrmselves holding their own weapons at the ready.

A rat scurried over Brittany's feet, spooking her, a teenage girl, rags hsnging from her skinny frame, grabbing the thrashing, squealing thing with both hands, nrrowly avoiding being bit, as she handed him to an older woman in a patched, oversized, geen armorjacket duster, the woman, thirty or sixty, hard to judge just from the lines on her weatherbeaten face, intantly snappng the rat's neck, skinning and gutting it, thn adding its carcass to a pile of other dead rats awaiting their turn in a sizzling cast-iron skillet on thr fire next to the two of them.

“Not the place for picky eaters, daarl,” Darla remarked.

“No,” Brittany agreed,”no, it isn't.

The other Resisters were already pitching tents in a clearing a short distance from the rest of the camp, when Darla and she joined them, those not pitching tents, or moving stuff into them forming a perimeter round their encampment, taking cover in the weeds and brambles, and standing guard.

“We put your stuff in that big tent over there, Doc,” Naomi said, as she came up to the two of them, before joining the others on guard duty.

The tent in question was garish orange, with patches of barious dull colors, and a flap with a busted zipper.

Inside were a pair of rolled-up sleeping bags, the ice chests with the cax and other medicines, and the rest of the clinic's contents, no shelves, tables or chairs.

Darla nd she moved the ice chet and the various other boxes to the sides of the tent, before they unrolled the sleeping bags, and spread thrm out on the cracked, weed-infested concrete, another rat rapidly skittering across the tent, as the two of them worked.

“Oh, look,” Brittany quipped,”there goes our lunch,”

Darla chuckled, before handing Brittany a steaming foil package smelling vaguely of chicken and rice.

“Ain't no phesant under glass,” Darla remarked, handing Brittany a set of plastic utensils,”but, it sure as hell in't rat either.”

“Baby,” Brittany joked, as Darla next poured black coffee from another foil package into pair of tin cups,”you'tr spoiling me.”

Darla smiled, handing her wife one od the cups of black insrant coffee, Brittany sitting cross-legged on one of the sleeping bags, tuckinto her package of chickrn, rive, and gravy, while Darla sat next to her, enjoying what smelled, and actually even looked like, beef and noodles

[WillDexter]

25 MAY, 2055
11:36:50

Red jump-suited techs abd RCN starshyp engineers were doing what they could, given how little of Deck 5 remained.

Radiating out from the hub of the saucer, scorch marks and molten hull metal marked where compartments and bulkheads might have been, once, with the rim of the saucer itself riddled with slagged holes.

Bsttle lantrrns hung from cables running through the gutted deck provided the sole illumination, other than residual current arcing from broken, half-melted wiring here and there, those wires dangling from what used to be cdecks two through four of the USS Hereacles,]/i] with even the deckplates subliminated into plasama by fragments of intercepted r-gun projectiles.

The Fed ship rested in the main bay of an RCN repair ship dispatched from the joint base at Hiroshi-jima Stardock, simliar half-megaton craft working to repair the remaining Fed ships, at least enough to get thm into stardock, so a proper job could be made of it.

Phyll didn't think much could be done for Heracles, even nanotech and industrial replicators, though she had seen greater miracles performed.

Certainly, nothing could be done for the crew in these spaces, save pray to the Good Goddess to have mercy on their souls, space combat, nine times out of ten, not even leaving bodies to bury.

On that note...

As she walked along the deck, ducking her way past work crews, she called up both the casualty list and the letters she'd been working on.

Allisen Zapata.

Able Starshipman, Engineering section, HMS Fearless.

Seventeen, just passed out of Engineering School, following basic militarybinstruction at the Admiralty Airdock over Maxwell Montes, on Venus, both parents still living, five sisters, a dozen nieces and nephews, all working the farm in the Lowlands of Dulvinea, Tau Ceti's third planet...she had a dog, a Jack Russell terrier she'd groen up with, named Ragdoll for some reason.

Phyll remembered she sang in the ship's choir.

Fearless' choir was gone, of course, along with everyone else on board, one of the Fed dreadnaught cruisers scoring a luckt—ort unlucky—hit on [o]Fearless at the same time Fearless done the same to its killer.

So much in a young life, so much more which could've benn, and it was just gone, with no good way to sum it all up, much less explain why.

Yet, that came with the gold braid and the executive curl on her uniform.

“I haven't even started,” John Sheridan's gravelly voice said.”Hard.”

“Everything,” Phyll replied, as the two of them walked through the gloomy remains of Deck 5, “you try to say, it just comes across as empty and meaningless.”

“Yeah,” Sheridan said.

“Damn thing is,” he addd,”I got them into this...I could've said something, done something, but....I wanted to see humanity back on top as badly as everyone else, and I didn't care that it would cost us our self-respect, our basic human decency, our freedom...Anna...”

“And, now,” he said,”over a sseven hundred lives on Aganemmnon alone, over a thousand on Heracles...”

He trailed off.

“There'll be more,” he then said,”before it's done...maybe even another Dark Age...all because we can't stand the thought of equality.”

“Seems a recurring motif in both our histories,” Phyll remarked.

“Fed Council,” Sheridan said,”awarded me the Gold Medal of Valor during the Third Rom War...took the Lexington across the Line—the 'neutral zone,' 5,000 parsec across, the Roms established following Valdwell's surrender and the Treaty of Algernon back in 115—at the same time Drena Caldwell's Alfred the Great--an old United Earth Star Navy Republic-class heavy cruiser—Jim Kirk's Task Force 58, led by Enterprise, and V'mak Shran's Romulan Raider Group, led by the Eagle, attacked the Rom peacekeeping patrols stationed in the Federation border systems.

Our objective was a Rom starbase in the Sanguinax system...the legacy media and the Net said Lex, surpried a full-up starbase and a Romulan star legion massing there for an invasion.”

He paused, staring straight ahead.

“Roms came at us hard during the Second Romulan-Federation War, vause Caldwell's ships fried Tomed III to bare rock, then sent in the Marines to...are you familiar with the 31st chapter of the Book of Numbers, the 'war' against the Midianites?”

“The Isrealites,” Phyll replied,”butchered all the men, all the boys, all the animals, all the woomen who weren't virgins, while taking the virgin girls—twelve and thirteen year old girls—home to be their sex slaves.”

“The Marines, on Caldwell's orders, did that to the people on Tomed III,” Sheridan said.”The descendants of those taken as slaves...are still slaves, we never repatriated them, in spite of that being one of the conditions for Emperor Tarsus not slaughtering every Fed citizen between the Line and Earth.

Tomed III was virtually defenseless, same as the Sanguinax system...Sanguinax II was largely an agricultural colony, nd the station in oebit a lightly-armed trading post, while the 'star legion' turned out to be a flotilla of six old Warbirds relegated to system defense duties.”

He sighed.

“It wouldn't have mattered,” he then said.”We wanted to be on top, to satisfy our manifest destiny to rule nenevolently and peaceably ober the entire galaxy, no matter how many had to pay the price.

We...I...shot down all six Wardbirds with ease, then beamed the Marines onto the station and the planet, at the same time Lexington bombarded it from orbit, and...those not butchered on planet or on station, we took as slaves...including my wife, the daughter of the local governor...she was part of my shaare of the spoils, you see...”

“No,” Phyll honestly replied,”not really, and yet....yeah.”

“Yeah,” she repeated.

“Her name was Tlar'Ra'Kel Saavik,” Sheridan said,”but, I changed it to Anna Sheridan, and I...I wasn't very nice to her, I didn't think I had to be, that my humanity gave me license to do whatever I wanted to her...til...I don't know why ot what, but I just couldn't anymore...nut, by the time I'd reached that point, Buckner decided to sell her to a prominent Orion...businessman...in exchange for his political and economic support.”

He swallowed.

“They awarded me the Federation's highest honor for a war crime everyone called a great victory,” he said,”let Buckner and his Federalist goons use me as a walking recruitment poster, took full advantage of the power, prestife, and privilege of my inflated reputation, out of pure ego, unafulterated narcissism, and an unwarranted sense of entitlement and supremacy...I didn't want equality, not even with my fellow human males, I wanted to be a god, a sovereign dispensing law and imposing order on those who weren't me...Buckner and the others took as much advantage of that, as I and too many like me took advantage of him, his ego. His narcissism, his sense of supremacy and entitlement...”

A young blonde thing in a red minidress, black stocking, and high knee boots came up to the two of them.

“Sirs,” she said,”I was asked to come fetch you. The others have come to a decision.”
25 MAY, 2055
11:41:12

“We have to secure Io as well,” Craig said.

Omo nodded, the other Allied admirals--most of the other Allied admirals—murmurring assent.

The admirals of the Greek, Ottoman, and Iranian Imperial starfleets were not happy.

Given the circumstances, he wouldn't be either.

“Liberating Thalassa,” he said, looking those three directly in the eye,”is still a go, and, it's still set for five days' time.”

“But,” Grand Admiral Gergios Mussafalos, commanding the Imperial Greek Starmada,”with less than what we planned onn.”

“Correct,” Omo replied.”Third and Mobile Strike Fleets, along with Third and 12th Marine Amphibious Assault Corps, will be diverted to the Io operation.”

“As will the RCN's 6th and 9th Fleets, plus 16 and 27 Amphibious Assault Corps.”

“Unsatisfactory,” insisted Megadux Kemal Aydib, commanding the Imperial Ottoman Stellar Navy,”especially in light of revent intel.”

That being the Rebs had diverted one of the JMOBs besieging the Cor Caroli system to reinforce the America at 61 Cygni.

“It is,” concluded Grand Admiral Mohammed Bani-sadr, commanding the Royal Itanian Space Force,”but, I am forced to concur with Fleet Admiral Omo's decision. The artifact on Io, with its doorway to other realities is a demonstrable, intolerable threat to the Allied Powers, and must not fall into the hands of the League.

To that end, the Shah has consented to one of our two fleets and a Toyal Army Corps being diverted from the liberation of Thalassa to securing Io.”

“All right,” Omo decided.”We'll send the pre-arranged signal for the Resistance cells to begin their operations exactly at H-hour; once the Reb forces and the patriots on Thlassa are off-balance, we send in the Marines.”

“Ptojected casualties?” asked Admiral Honore Boumedienne, command the Combined Arab Star Forces.

“Thirty percent, dead and wounded,” Craig answered,”during the inital invasion phase, and another fifteen to twenty in actually securing the planet, due to asynchronous warfare operations,” so much more technical than “acts of terrorism,””on the part of patriots--”

And, that was a measure of the fucked-up world around Omo, that white supremacist thugs in both Reb and Dezzie soil, had not only co-opted the word “patriot,” but had made the word itself an obscenity.

“--and League forces gone to ground,” Craig concluded.

Omo sipped still another cup of black coffee, as he looked past his fellow admirals, at the Earth shining high and bright in the skies over the Sea of Tranquility and the Nakomis 13 Lunar Excursion Module, dubbed Aquarius, and the North Star flag of the Allied Powers at the center of Tranquility Park.

On the plaque next to the picture window was the message from the first manned spacecraft to ornit the Moon, and photograph the first Earthrise, Nakomis 11, Christmas Eve, 1947, mission commander Eric Browne of then-Royal Navy Fleet Air Arm, command module pilot Army Air Corps Colonel Amelia Earhart, and lunar excursion module pilot North American Marine Corps aviator Major Robrt Andersson.

The three had taken turns reciting a pasage from the third canto of Childe Harold's Pilgrimage:

”Like the Chaldean, he could watch the stars,
Till he had peopled them with beings bright
As their own beams; and earth, and earth-born jars,
And human frailties, were forgotten quite:
Could he have kept his spirit to that flight
He had been happy; but this clay will sink
Its spark immortal, envying it the light
To which it mounts, as if to break the link
That keeps us from yon heaven which woos us to its brink.”

Craig red thr next stanza with him:

”'But in Man's dwellings he became a thing
Restless and worn, and stern and wearisome,
Droop'd as a wild-born falcon with clipt wing,
To whom the boundless air alone were home:
Then came his fit again, which to o'ercome,
As eagerly the barr'd-up bird will beat
His breast and beak against his wiry dome
Till the blood tinge his plumage, so the heat
Of his impeded soul would through his bosom eat'”

“They'd seen two decades of chaos,” the commander of the Royal Celestial Navy then remarked,”before that; it was why they wanted to reach for the Moon so soon after.”

“You'd think we would've sorted ourselves out, before we went to the stars,” Omo remarked.”Instead, we've dragged our humanity with us, spread it to the whole of the Outer Darkness, and echoes of it are coming through from another reality to drag us down further, possibly combining with the enemies we already have to destroy us all; hell, for all we know, those humans deny thry ever even went to the stars, same as your run-of-rhe-mill patriot in the goddamn League.”

“Yet,” the Iranian admiral remarked,”we haven't a choice, have we?”

“We could lay down, and let the bastards win,” Cerise remarked.

”Da,” Ekatrina said, the others, one by one, voicing agreement.

Surrender wasn't an option.

Not when the only real choices were life and death.

25 MAY, Y168
11:41:12

“The Roms,” Grand Admiral Stephen V. Cole said, “have sent in four star Legions, in addition to the peacekeeping patrols, against the Gorns and Sixth Fleet.”

Toying with a brass pin with the raised Greek lettr psi on its face, Slidell studied the strategic display echoed from Starfleet's new command center in Cheyenne Mountain to one of the Panopticon screens.
“Sixth Fleet is all but abbhilated,” Cole almost exulted,”Starbase 11 and all the outposts along the Line have fallen, and all of Gorn space, as well as 2.5 cubic gigaparsecs of Federation space is in Romulan hands.

They are within striking distance of the Primary Member Zone itself.”

“--an abject failyre,” David Weiss said on FlashPoint,”of the Federation's woke, leftist policies, especially the failed social experiment that was mandatory diversity and inclusion programs.”

“Which,” one of his co-panelists, Pastor Yeshua Kunneman, remarked,”has further weakened a Starfleet already corrupted by and more cincerned with, social justice and political correctness, than with defending humanity and human freedom, from alien dictators who share neither our morality, our peaceful intentions, nor our regard for life above all.”

“We are,” one of the other panel members, Pastor Eugene Burns, said,”in the very last days of the Last Days, with the Enemy on the march within and without human space. What do y'all think we, as Christians, as human beings, need to do.”

“We need to pray,” Kunnemn said,”for a cleansing fire to burn out the last remnants of the weak, woke, radical Left, Fascist Federation of Socialist Planets from our wotlds, and, especially from Starfleet.”

Check, Slidell thought to himself, seeing the results of the online poll demanding much the same thing on another of the Panopticon's viewscreens .

“--ptay for Buckner,” Pastor Mark Driscoll said,”to dissolve the Federation, once and for all, and restore the United Earth of our forefathers, a nation governed on Biblical principles and human morality.”

[iCheck,[/i] Slidell mentally noted, his fellow human beings voting almost unaimously to estblish the Terran Dominion, governed on Biblical principles, or the People's version, thereof.

“--operating in Gorn space far to spinward,” Cole was nattering on,”have gone dark. The Gorn fleets in that part of their space are few and far between, due to their legislature cutting their military budget even further in fiscal Y169 than last year.”

Slidell chuckled, running a finger over the psi, as he slowly turned the badge over...there was a reason, aftrr all, for the saying one's ass was, quote, “tighter than a Gorn's wallet.”

“For the most part,hgowever,” Cole said,”the new weapons snd ships their alliance with the Tholians have provided them have proven to be the deciding factor in the Romulan counter-invasion, thus far, especially the heavy plasmatic pulse projectors mounted on their Superhawk battle cruisers, and their Roc stellar domination platforms; the latter, with their flotillas of Starhawk fast patrol craft, incorporating the same heavy PPP weapons as the cruisers and SDSs, zre fleets unto themselves.”
“Exactly as we've planned,” Slidell remarked, noting, to trailing, the deep penetration of Klingon forces into Federation space, with the Hydrans and the Kzinti all but completely out of the war.

Some of the technology the humans from the Royal United States had given the Federation, as well as what yechnological wonders Swction 31 had plundered from the Jindarian asteroid ship in Sol's Kuiper belt had made its way into the hands of the Orion Cluster Cartel, and, from there, to the Klinks, their fleets of new A12 stellar domination starships and C11 battlecruisers sweeping Starfleet, Hydran, and Kzinti ships from their path.

Again, exactly as planned.

“Are the new fleets in position?” he asked.

“Seventh and Ninth Fleets,” Cole replied,” under Admiral Kirk, aboard the MacArthur, are at the staging area in the 40 Erudani system, ready to intercep the Roms whrn they enter the Primary Member Zone; Twentieth and 21st Fleets, under Admiral LeMay, are eb route from the Survey Zone to join them.

Tenth through Fifteenth Fleets are en route rom their bases in the Survey Zone, in company with the whole of the Royal US Navy's Sixth and Ninth Fleets, to their staging area in the WYN Cluster's radiation zone, which has nil effect on both the RUS ships and the new construction; they'll be invisible to Klingon sensors, unril thry're ready to pounce.”

“Then,” Slidell observed,” we'll see how well our new Starfleet fares against ships of comparable technolgy.

On that note, Grand Admiral--”

“Sir...” Cole started to say, trailed off, then began again.”Sir, we've heard nothing from the battle groupn we dispatched to Hood's location.”

Slidell tightly grasped the pis pin in his black-gloved left hand.

“We just don't know what happened to them,” Cole added.”It may be as simple as they encountered more resistance than a single battle group could counter--”

“So,” Slidell concluded,”they'll reinforce the Io portal on their end, assuring any other ships we send through will run straight into a buzzsaw.”

“Yes, sir,” Cole answered.

“We'll come back to that, then,” Slidell decided.”Right now, our plans are far too advance to distract ourselves. We just have to hope those on the other side don't learn to control their portals, and send ships through to our reality.”

“Carry on, Grand Admiral,” he added, making a dismissive gesture toward the mundane, even as he kept his back to him.

[WillDexter]

25 MAY, 2055
11:46:00

Abruptly, Th'Kree announced,”the time has come for you to rejoin your gindaro, Adele Colonel.”

Del's BCI buzzed for attention, just as she was getting into the account of a massive space battle with an elfin species called Eldar or Aeldari, whose ships sailed the solar winds.

“Six,” Del said.”Go ahead.”

The Ex's holo appeared in front of her, and came to the point:

“What's lwft of the battle group's been recalled to Canaan; I news you to compile and upload a report on what you found to both shipnet, and the expidition here on Kobol, thrn gate back aboard, ASAP.

We'll gate in a team from the expidition to finish what you started.”

Del nodded.

“We'll be along shortly,” she said aloud, already compilong all the data from all her Marines' sensors,”discomming.”

Number One's image winked out, and Del stood up, sxrewing her lid back on, and facing Th'Ktee.

“I wish we could've stayed longer, given you--” she started to say.

“Your gindaro needs you,” Th'Kree cut her off, her image smiling,”and, you've given me enough.”

The heat shimmering of a quantum tunnel formed behind Th'Kree, who added:

“And, I'm not alone; I know this now, and that is more than enough.”

Del nodded,, tears running down her face, as she transmitted her compiled data both to Oak's shipnet, and the artificial-intelligence network of the expidition on planet.

“Though your circling takes you elsewhere,” Th'Kree said,”the light and life of all of you will circle within me to beginning.”

“Yeah,” Del remarked,”I won't soon forget you, or all this, either.”

With that, she motioned for her command section to head for the telegate focus, Del being the last one to step through.
25 MAY, 2055
11:46:16

“For the moment,” Mackie said,”Heracles will remain behind; Admiral Hall will remain confined to quarters, until the ship is repaired enough to try and make it home.”

“But,” he added, looking Sheridan in the eyes,”we are going home, and do what little we can to setting our nayion right; we owe the Federation that much.”

“The rest of you?” Sheridan asked.

“There were some amongst us,” Caldwell replied,”for whom lighting out, and making their way in this time and place seemed like the thing to do.”

He paused, looking at his fellow captins, then back at Sheridan.

“But,” he said,”that would be desertion, and, whatever else we've done, we're not deserters.

We know where our duty lies...and, who is ultimately responsible for what's happened to our Federation.

Therefore, we are going home.”

Sheridan nodded, not knowing what to say, or whether he should say anything at all.

“All right, then,” he finally said,”we are going home.”

[WillDexter]

08)Order the Guns And Kill


30 MAY, 2055
00:00:001


"Get in gear, you lazy sluts!* the Klan Harpy screamed at the slaves changing out the Schlatter C1200 industrial replicator, as it furiously whipped their naked backsides into humping replicator print heads to the techs who would swap them out for the ones already in the two-klick long machine.

Because they wereaprd and monkeys, the lazy slave things all acted like it was such hard work, same as the mules pulling one- and two-ton carts of replicator feedstock to and from the machine, "forcing" their Harpies to lay into them even more with their braided barbed wire whips

James "Blue" McChord watched this with a mixture of pleasure and frustration, the manager of the Blue Bird plant in Naxos enjoying the sight of tyrants being the demon-possessed, sexually-deviant, vaccine-injured, genetically-modified freaks Nature had made them, as it would give him inspiration for today's sermon on why the slave and the tyrant must always be a slave and a tyrant..

At the same time, this was costing him downtime, and he was sure his replicator operators didn't enjoy being made to stand round idle, and not getting paid for it.

That, and this was the third time this month alone that they'd been given the go ahead to start cranking out vehicles for the new model year, only to be told to tear it all down, and set it back up to run…well, he couldn't very well discuss that, could he, not even with himself.

"Another chip shortage?! Really?!" Alex J. Steinberg whined on the fifty-foot holoviewer above this section of the production floor."Last month, it was a shortage of baby food and formula, and toilet paper the month before that. What gives?!"

"The globalists," Austin Whitsit said in Steinberg's live chat,"are at it again, deliberately sabotaging the economy, the strongest it's ever been in decades, to try and bring down our True American Republic, and force us back into They/Them Rothschild corporate tyranny."

"This fake chip shortage narrative bullshit," remarked Santos Bonacci,"is just another way the elites are trying to forment unrest and discreditt the white Christian man, by keeping him from supplying vehicles to meet the ever-increasing demand for them, a demand the Rothschilds themselves created, when they eliminated every form of public transit a hundred years ago, and first hit upon this false chip shortage narrative to control supply."

"And keep it so low," Mark Stout added,"so that they could, under color of law, force we, the People, to contract with them for the God-given right to travel."

"Another way," remarked Daniel Pratt ROW,"the elites try to force their white masters, the children of God, into corporate bond slavery."

"Goddamn right,"one of Blue's line bosses, Curtis Diers, remarked, as he also watched the replicator being switched over.

"Goddamn ri–" he started to repeat, before the flat, domed, motionless, infinite plane of the Earth trembled violently, and all the lights went out.

"Dafuq?!* the replicator's operator, Ricky Miller, interjected, as the Earth kept shifting under everyone's feet, while sparks and bits of ceiling rained down on everyone's heads.

Amidst this cacophony came the sudden wail of sirens.

Then, explosive concussions from close by, followed by the ripping and buzzing of accelerators.

"Got tyrants in the loading docks!" cried the maintenance supervisor James Horner, via BCI."Say again, we got ty–"

And, his holo abruptly turned to white noise, as the sounds of gunfire, cursing, and screaming inside the plant, drew closer to Blue with each passing second.

And, all he could was stand there, and shit himself, even as a hail of blue fire turned Curtis and Ricky both into a rain of chunky salsa.

30 NAY,2055
00:00:00

”Was in die Fick?!” Gefreiter Hans Lopez y Garcia demanded, as the ruddy, volcanic, uninhabitable land of Io exploded all round him, men screaming and burning everywhere the Argentine Republican Army Panzergrenadier looked, the tents of the Grossdeutschland Division's camp, at the foot of the pyramid of doubtlessly Tartarian metal turned to btight blooms of plasma, along with their contents, the division's Jaguato gev panzers, Kleiner Gustav self=propelled artillery, and other vehicles also being destroyed, even as their crews were scramnling to reach them, were caught in the open, and died for their efforts.

Looking up, the ninetten-year old panzergrenadier saw the blue rain falling from ochre clouds, and, for a moment, only for a moment, he believed the fantastic stories the unteroffizers and the feldwebels often told the new men, wvwn though that was strictly against regulations, and the Kettehunds had eyes everywhere, about otbital bombardment, even though Lopez y Murietta knre that was scientifically impossible, because space was scientifically impossible, an old wivees' tale only old wives and simpletons aaccepted on faith.

Combat drones then dove screaming from the clouds, their eight-inch accelerators spitting blue fire, and Lopex y Murietta ran, joining other soldiers from his division in panicked flight toward the Tartarian pyramid, in hopes of finding shel--

30 NAY,2055
00:03:50

"Tyrants! Two-eight-eight--zera-zera, inbound, zera by twenty-tree, closing, max av!" CSS Ohio's master radarman shouted the very fucking obvious amidst the screams and explosions ripping though CIC, as the Virginia-class srarliner's helmsman, Master Quartermaster Ward Sinclair, jacked up all four torches to war emergency burn in hopes of escaping Thalassa's grav, and upcycling.

Captain Pierce Monaghan swore to himself, as, quick as shit, West Virginia, Tennessee, Missouri and Transvaal all died in roars of white hot light, as the grey and white Allied starliners and armored cruisrs bore down on the remains of the Cnfederate Third Fleet a kiloklick out from Thalassa.

Then hurtled past them, Third Fleet's remaining cruisers and starliners wallowing around, trying to bring their guns to bear, as the fleet's surviving Warhawks and War Eagles were being cut to ribbons by the enemy's fighters, drones, and interceptor batteries

The goddamn Secret being everything, Thalassa had no orbitals, no ortillery platforms, no airdocks,and no moon on which r-guns could be sited out of sight, out of mind; therefore the Allied warships vectored their dropships into atmosphere, before standing on their jets, and angling for another go at what was left of Third Fleet.

"Comms,, raise America!" Monaghan ordered."Advise them of our situation, and tell 'em they'd best crash launch everything they got, ASAP!"

"Sir," the radioman was indecently quick to reply,"external comms hacked; virus has corrupted driver firmware, rendering comms offline."

"Ain't that just fuckin' wonderful?!" Monaghan groused, as Rhodesia and Uganda both died in the flickering main holobiewer.

"Ship at escape velocity," Sinclair reported some ten, maybe twenty years later,"max av upcycle now."

"Thank fuck for small favors," was Monaghan's reply, as the master radarman reported one of the enemy fleets had broken off combat, and were vectoring toward 61 Cygni itself.

30 MAY, 2055
00:04:27

"All guns, FIRE!" Caroline shouted, as Fleet Battle Group Six, assigned to the Mobile Strike Fleet, closed to 299.97 kiloklicks of Io, and acquired the Reb JMOB in orbit over the dwarf planet

KC then violently uked the ship in every direction at once, maintaining war emergency burn, as the Reb behemoth returned fire with all 552 of its quad main batteries, while Narwhal abruptly downcycled to norm, and began building up the velocity needed to escape Jupiter's grav.

"Enemy fleets launching en masse, Skipper," Tommy reported, as CIC briefly went dark,"Capitals, drones and fighters closing us, zera by two, war energncy burn."

Relativistic fragments from Angel's last salvo scoured the 750-megaton beast, some of those fragments sailing through the stardock's opened port shiplock to cause untold havoc within the JMOB itself


Still, it was in the fight, and boosting hard to escape the pull of Jovian gravity, as it hosed its immediate volume of space with its primary arsenal.


Angeli's next volley struck home against a dozen Argentine Scharnhorsts, four, five dozen more armored cruisers being rendered deadstick and gutted from the fragments of intercepted projectiles, while still more fragments ripped glowing great holes into another couple dozen otherwise functioning Argie Bismarck-class starships of the line.

KC executed a series of hard jink and burns, as Andi's interceptors shredded inbound Hs 620 Adler drones and VW 210 Wespe heavy fighters, while fragmented incoming enemy fire, Narwhal dodging some of those fragments.

Not all

CIC went dark still again, Roz rattling off damage and status, as Narwhal hung in there, and kept fighting.

[WillDexter]

30 MAY, 2055
00:05:11

A burst of two-five mike mike chopped up a squad of Confederate Legionnaires scrambling for their Lwonidas in the armory's motor pool, Del and the others continued laying down cover fire for Mika, as she planted the trlegate targeting beacon.

She then ran like hell for the cover the rest of One Section offered, as another Leonidas roared into life, and chased her with fire from its coax and top-mountrd 25mm heavy acceleratord. Mika, in turn, hammering the enemy machine's front glacis with burst after burst from her rotary-barrel L57 40mm heavy railgun.

"Six, Six-One-Ten," Mel reported via tacnet "Beacons planted, guns moving up to assist"

"Will designate and adjust," Del replied, using her L22's targeting suite to paint a nearby Leonidas rumbling into life, as its embarked infantry squad advanced toward its rear by fire and movement.

She and the rest of One Section kept designating, as Ten Section's ten five-inch accelerators vectored sixty-kilogram rounds into the Lepnidas and its mates, then into other parked ground vehicles, before shifting their fires to AH-101 Wyvern helicopter gunships, as they attempted to lift, going from there to the tank farm holding all the Rebs' petrol, and, finally the buildings of the motor pool proper.

"Bug out!" Del ordered."Second patrol, take point!"

Mika and four other Marines, crouching and firing the entire time, broke cover, and yomped, Del waiting another few moments, then the four other Marines of One Section's first patrol ran from the blazing wreck of the armory's motor pool toward where Ten Section held position.

"Hold fire," Mel ordered, as the rest of 1/1st Troop quickly linked up with the other two sections, gearing up to assault the armory building proper.

Which was easier said than done as the Reb Legionnaires assigned to Naxos had taken over one of the alien buildings, constructed of similar material as the ones on Kobol, meaning nothing the Allied Powers had could take it out, or even reduce it.

And, Rebs were pouring out of the building's sole entry, rushing down steps also made of psuedo neutron star material, all guns blazing.

"All guns," Mel barked out, as the Marines made ready to counter that charge, and assault the armory directly,;"FIRE!"

30 MAY, 2055
00:06:16

Even as the landing force of nine hundred North American Marine pushed rhee stunned survivors of the Grossdeutschland back toward the alien pyramid, Confederate ironhorse cavalry dept in from behin, Revel yelling their heads off, as they triggered the twin 50mm geavy accelerators on their equineform walkers.

As one, the three hundred Marines of ]o\Narwhal's]/i] First Batyalion turned to face the horde of whooping, hollering Texans, 1,200 rounds from Colonel Blair Henderson's M12 storm gun—a mixture of 30mm solid penetrarors and single-gauge scattergun rounds—scythung through the ranks of the enemy ironhorse cavalry, ripping apart flesh, aerogel and turanium with equal lack of discrimination.

He remaining Texas Rangers pressed on, one of them spurring his meter sixty tall mechanoid mount into a full gallop, as he attempted to vault over the line of Marines in his path, and attack the rear of the other two battalions, as they continued assaulting the alien ziggaraut, untouched by the orbital and aerial bombardment, as it sat in the middle of the glassy volcanic plain.

Robotic horse and rider were an afterimage in Blair's retinas, massed fire ebding him and hundreds of his comrades in strobing photoflashes of white-hot light, as the sound of rotors grew steadily louder.

It took a moment for Blair to make out the swarm of black dots in the ochre skies over Io as Wyvern and Dezzie AH-90 Avenger attack gelos, shepherding Dezzie Celestial Legion Land Force UH-87 Warhorse utility helos doubtlessly crammed to the reafters with air cavalry troopers.
The whine of jets also grew louder, the old song “Rock n' Roll” Booming and pounding through the air, as bright blue flashes erupted amongst the Texans' ranks, followed by straks of blue-hot fire, behind which M9B Puller ground-effect main-battle chariots charged, both the Alaskan flag and the banner of the 51st Marine Amphibious Assault Division—a polar bearvin boxing gloves---whipcracking from the antenna of several of the leading Pullers.

The Reb and Dezzie attack helos peeled off to attack the onrushing chariots, Blair vectoring burst sfter burst skyward, same as the rest of her lead battalion, the battalion's thirty, remotely-controlled five-inch accelerators elevaring their tubes and adding to the shot and shell filling the sky.

As F4U-4Css of the Haed n' Fast Fifty-First's aviation wing swooped down like Caananite greateagles upon the slower helos, sbaarching then from the sky in roars of blue streaks and pinpoints of hard white light slowly scattering flaming, falling bits of metal across the surface of Io.

Still, in clumps across the battlespace, Dezzie air cavalrymen, dismounted Texas Rangers, and rhe infantry squads embarked aboard the Pullers fought one another to the bitter end, while Blair and her Marines stood their ground, and fired, as Blair heard still more rotors, these coming from directly behind her.

“Six,” Major Jordan Beck, commanding Second Battalion, reported via force tacnet,”Six-Two; friendly air-assault infantry, regimental strength, deploying in support, estimate we will secure the outside of the structure in another twenty mikes.”

“Is there a way inside that thing?” Blair asked.

“Six-Tree reports negative on entry,” Jordan answered, as blue fire whipcracked past his head,”though they are continuing to search the exterior of the structure, at least, when Third Battalion's not too busy greasing Krauts.”

“Copy,” Blair replied.”Six-Tree, Six, talk to me.”

“We can't even tell if anyone's gained entry,” Third Battalion's Captain Chelle Walker reported, even as she vectored a stream of two-five mike mike from her M8 heavy accelerator into a goosestepping mob charging hell for leather for her.”That metal's as dense as a neutron star, not even quantum radar from orbit's able to give us more than a partial picture of what's inside.

Charlie Company's gained the outer perimeter; Cleo's sent scouting parties to try and find a wat in, but, so far, nada; outside of the structure's smooth as silk, not even a hint of a door anywhere.”
“Copy,” Blair replied, ordering 1st Battalion to cease fire, whn she saw only Marines still wiggling on the ground, and only Corsairs flying unchallenged amidst a rain of burning metallic fragments.

A Puller pulled up short of First Battalion's line, a figure in fully-sealed, but unpowered body armor—ochre, like the rest of this planet—dropping from a ventral hatch, cautiously approaching Blair, one hand extended outward, the other firmly gripping their patrol-slung M9 7.62mm accelerator rifle.

“Major Gener Enos Cantrell,” said a man's bass voice from the suit of body armor, as the pneumatic hyperdemic integral to his right gsuntlet piereced Blair'sleft gauntlet, and pricked her palm.” commanding the Hard n' Fast Fifty-First.Kumbayah.”

“Colonel Blair Henderson,” Blair said, firmly grasping the man's hand, the pnuemo built into her gauntlet extracting a sample for her suit's genetic scanner,commanding Narwhal's Marine landing forcr.Clock strucknone, all came undone.”

A tensefew moments passed, before genscanner results projected from both Marine's eyes, both results thankfully displaying “100% MATCH.”

“We're both still us, it seems, Colonel,”said Cantrell.”Thank God for that. Sitrep?”

“My Marines and your air-assault troopers are securing the alien structure behind us; all attempts to scan inside or gain entry unsucessful thus f--”

“Six-Tree,” the urgent voicce of Third Battalion's senior NCO, Gunnery Sergeant Major Lewis Fox suddenly said over tacnet,” Six-Tree-Ten, please respons.”

Fox repeated himself a moment later, Blair asking,”Six-Tree-Ten, Six. Sergeant Major, what the fuck?!”

“Sir,” Fox's holo reported, as it floated in front of Blair's right eye,”our sensors picked up a quantum tunnel forming near the Honcho's position, and, thrn, we lost contact with her entire command squad.”

“Fuck,” Blair interjected, as she turned toward the structure, and started walking rapidly toward it.”On my way.”


30 MAY, 2055
00:06:16

He'd been a well-regarded military sci-fi content creator, before his fellow patriots had hunted him down and shopped him to the Doms.

He was still.looked up to as an expert by his fellow spacers, many of whom had been avid Battlestar America fans, even after such fandom had led to their exile to space.

He was a space warfare juggernaut.

Therefore, Keithley knew this wasn't supposed to be happening.

Battlestar America, and its crew of patriots, true to the ideals of humanity and United Colonies of Capricornus was supposed to prevail against the loony, liberal, deviant, child-grooming, utterly inhuman Daianons(KDirected Artificially-Intelligent Anthro Morphic Omni -pupose Nodes) and their New Natural Order.

Instead, the Celestial Leguon Naval Command JMOB i][America's[/i] CIC exploded, went dark, buzzed alarm, burned and screamed again and again and again, falling down all around Keithley, as fragments of intercepted Laamanite ordinance tore through the spaceframe, knocking the platform askew, as they ruptured still more nacelles, the RCS thrusters firing in fits and starts to correct the resulting pitch and yaw

"Main batteries 244 to 520 dismounted, offline!" shrieked one of the watchstanders, as damage control teams got tound to fighting the multiple fires burning in CIC.

"Interceptors 3,500 to 4,550 dismounted, offline!" shouted another watchstand, while a third reported,"internal temp 112 degrees, rising! Uncontrolled fires, decks five through nineteen, decks one through four gutted, no survivors!! Lifts offline, emergency bulkheads down throughout the platform!”

"We got the ships out, before the Laamanites trashed the stardock!" a ragged, sweating, sodden Hunt reported."Stardock's completely unusable, shipyards and industrial section both completely destroyed, replicator feedstock and remass stores opened to space, multiple penetrations in engineering spaces, all outer ring nacelles destroyed,, inner nacelle cluster severely damaged.”

Once again, CIC exploded, went dark, caught fire, buzzed, and shrieked.

"Any word from our forces in near-Thalassa space?" Keithley asked

"Still fighting, as far as we know," Hunt replied."Their comms were infected with a deaf, dum and blind virus, and they're unable to communicate. Radar telemetry, however indicates they are just barely holding on against the Laamanite fleets in near-Thalassa space."

"Can we upcycle?" Keithley, feeling his skin burn, the salt crusting on his forehead, asked

"Negative" Hunt answered, as CIC exploded still again."we haven't achieved the velocity necessary to escape the binary's gravity."

"None of our deployed fleets have," he added,"though the enemy will be able to upcycle soon, according to our calculations."

"External comms offline!" another watchstanders reported."DDB viral infection indicated, attempting purge!"

"Uncontrolled fires, nacelles one, three, five, and eight!!" the engineering watchstanders reported."Reactors, all four nacelles, approaching implosion criteria, torches, warp generators, all four nacelles, offline, internal temp now 116 degrees, rising! Coolant boil off imminent!"

"Forward interceptors have sustained heat casualties, and are now offline!" another watchstander reported.

"Helm! " Hunt ordered " Keep our nose pointed away from the Laamanites!Roll platform along our axis of thrust to maximize coverage from remaining int-–“

At that point, all the lights went out leaving explosions and the greenish glow of emergency coldlamps.

"Fuck," Hunt swore "Shipnet's crashed; damage control parties attempting reboot."

"Thrust axis roll executed," the helmsman then said in the gloom.

30 MAY, 2055
00:06:16

A lucky hit from NAS Alaska's main battery turned the Reb JMOB into a strobing afterimage burnibf in Commodore Alberta Hewitt's retinas,

That, however, left Reb, Argie, Dezzie, and Roman warships, drones nd fighters in near-Io space for the seven Allied fleets to contend with, nearly six thousand of the former, and tens of thousands of the latter two, to deal with.

“Radiators ten, twelve, ninteen shot away,” /lieutenant Commander Leila Scott's ragged, sweat-stained image reported,”internal temp 100 degrees, rising. Primary electrics completely trashed, secondary electrics 61% disrupted, teritary electrics 54% disrupted, primary ficon offline, secondary ficon online. All damage under repair.”

“Copy,” Bertie replied, sipping still anothrt bottle of cold saline, as she struggled to stay foccussed in the dweatlodge that was her red-lit CIC, the 380-kiloton Alasaka-class starliner jerking hard, down and to the right, Commander Eucrasia Wright juking and burning to avoid fragments of fou-ton relativistic penetrators fragmented by the 3,800 interceptors under Midshipman Stephanie Rhoads' control.

Lieutenant Commander Marsha Wilkens' main battery fired again, the 360-round salvo killing a trio of Roman starliners, ripping through their nine squadron mates and a couple dozen Condottieri-class armored cruisers to render them drifting and deadstick, even as Stevie's AuxCon team scoured the immediate battlespace of Mangusta combat drones and Falcone Negro heavy fighters.

Eu stood the ship on her jets, Alasaka heeling hard about, back into the fight, as it was about to leave near-Io space, the main battery catching a squadron of Dezzie armored cruisers in mid-pivot, and killing them, the rest of the salvo being fragmented by the interceptors of a couple dozen Boche starliners, fouteen of which managing to coomplete their turns, and take the Nprth American starliner under fire.

30 MAY, 2055
00:06:16


"Sever Thalassa from the Internet"' the Father of the True America ordered, as, once again, he stood in the cwnter of the Panopticon.

"Officially," he gagged, his back toward Kennedy,"Thalassa never existed. Understand?"

"All content creators have been advised of this, Sire," Kennedy calmly replied "Only a few of them took the opportunity to ask for more money in exchange."

"Give em all a little something extra," the Patriarch of the Restored American Republic decided "That should serve as further incentive."

"Of course, Sire," Kennedy replied, while the Messiah of the True America watched conflagration spread from forests of dead trees to long abandoned houses in Laurel Canyon, to Los Angeles proper, consuming the crumbling remains of the Hollywood sign in its wake.

"Jews and their space lasers are at it again, it seems," he idly observed, Kennedy saying "heh" in reply, as derelict motion picture studios now fuelled those flames.

The Prophet of the New Confederate Order breathed deeply, watching the fire consume the closest thing he'd had to a hometown, before remarking:

"Still, we mustn't allow the slaves to liberate Thalassa, nor those on Thalassa to learn the Secret."

He watched the flames a moment longer, before deciding:

"Inform NAVCOM, that the JMOB George Wallace is to recall all their fleets, then leave the Saturn system on vector for Thalassa. They are to land their embarked [Einsatzgruppen[/i], Celestial Legion Special Forces, and Naval Infantry Containment Corps on planet to carry out Midian Protocols "

One of the Panopticon 's transparency officers then informed his Patriarch,"NAVCOM informed of your wishes, Sire, and will comply."

[WillDexter]

30 MAY, 2055
00:08:00

"At escape velocity," Electra reported, as CIC shuddered , and momentarily went dark, and Petra's last salvo splashed a dozen New Orleand-class machines, plus a stable octet of strarmining platforms mindlessly harvesting the twin stars' in the midst of a firefight.

"Punch it!" Phyll ordered, as the Old Oak slipped the bonds of the binary's gravity, and upcycled, max av, Electra turning and burning hard to keep the RCN dreadnaught cruiser in the battlespace, and Petra dispatched another six Argentine starliners, plus another dozen Dezzie Los Angeles-class machines, with her next volley, while holing a score or two more of Roman and Argentinian cruisers and starliners, many of those being hammered out of space by still another volley.

"JMOB's relighting his surviving torches," Kylien reported "Still vectoring toward 51 Cygni' inner debris field."

There it was, in the lower right hand corner of the master holoproj, a gored screwdriver streaming plasma, coolantant, vented atmo, remass, feedstock, and various bits and pieces of itself, as it rolled along its thrust axis, oriented side on, so as to keep working interceptor batteries dispatching inbound ordinance, even as its main batteries continued duelling with the ships of the RCN's Fourth Fleet.

Two of which disappeared before Phyll's's eyes in the master holoproj, as penetrators from the JMOB's main batteries eluded drones and interception, and struck home

"Sodding fuck,' Kylien interjected.

"Highflyer and Tordenskjold," Swathi supplied, as a swarm of Wespes, War Eagles, and Dezzie F-32G Vipers, plud a couple dozen Scharnhorsts got in the way of the salvo Petra intended for the JMOB,.

Two of Oak's squadronmates, Cockchafer and Golden Hind, formed up on Oak's wing, the five of them bulling their way through a growing number of enemy drones, fighters and warships,emerging into a veritable storm of interceptor and main battery fire from the JMOB itself, Electra dodging like crazy, at the same time the AuxCon team furiously, frantically strived to shoot down enemy ordinance, drones, and fi–

The master holoproj was a wash in strobing photoflashes, through which Electra flew, standing the ship in her jets to keep her in the battlespace

Guns pointed at the enemy all round her.


30 MAY, 2055
00:11:24

“Please,” the blur holographic, vagurly reptilian alien pleaded, as she towered over Captain Mechelle Walker and the nine other Marines of her command squad,”do not be alarmed. I eill return you to your gindaro, I just wanted....”

She trailed off, bludhing a deeper blue, before she changed, reducing her holoprojection to something slightly taller than Human average height, as sshe started over:

“I am Narah, Guardian of this Portal....I've been alone six hundred thousand of your years, ever since my Companion, Mareekem Qdaraem, died; our people, the Vo'kun, are no more, they fell upon one another...”

She trailed off, Chelle studying the room in which they all were standing...the walls and floor were bare, polished metal, the former featuring several paintings of landscapes unfamiliar to the North American Marine officer, as well as shelves full of books on all four sides, while a deep-piled orange rug decorated the latter.

“Please,”Narah said, motioning to a sofs and several chairs arrayed around a table of shimmering, multicolored wood at the center of the room,”sit....just...talk to me.”

Chelle sensed the desperation, lonleiness, and longing in the alien's voice.

“Six hundred thousand years,” Lance Cotporal Kane Hummel remarked, before softly invoking Jesus' name.

“No god,” PFC Sally Reitz remarked,”would ever permit anyone to be alone so long.”

“Fuck,” PFC Ashley Hatcher interjected.”I think I'd have gone stir crazy after a year, let alone six hundred thousand...”

“Yeah,” Chelle said, before removing her helmet, and taking a deep breath.

“Atmosphere's human norm,” she said, before taking a seat on the sofa, almost sinking into the plush orange cushions.

“I will serve refreshments, Mechelle Captain,” Narah said, surprising Chelle with knowledge of her name.

Since she haadn't remembered volunteering it, Chelle, quite logically, concluded Narah must be telepathic as well.

“I am,” Barah contritely said,”and I apologize for the intrusion; I'm afraid I've been alone so long, I've forgotten how to behave around people.”

“All good, babe,” Chelle replied, motioning for the rest of her command squad to be seated.

“Take a load off, Marines,” she said aloud.”It seems, for now, the smoking lamp's been lit.”


30 MAY, 2055
00:11:24

Oak's Marines fought their way to the top of the steps, Ten Section's guns blasting hundred of Rebs' into red mists, but having little effect on even the relatively thin material of the doors.

Fortunately for the Marines of CompSarntMajor Amanda Potter's Seven Section, now at the head of 1/1st Troop and the rest of the landing force, the enemy themselves insisted on keeping the doors open by mindlessly charging through them, Mandi caving in the skull of one of them with her L14 60mm storm gun, then firing said weapon, point-blank, into more of the same tossers, as, neter by meter, Seven Section, followed by the rest of Oak's nine hundred Marines, gained the interior of the front entrance.

Fanning out, and going probe, as Rebs in the corridor up ahead opened fire with a 90mm heavy accelerator, Marine Iris Callghan firing a single gauge shit shell from her 40mm Gatling which eviceeated the gun crew, even as bits of alien metal flew from the walls all round the Anglo-Swedish Marines from the wildly-ained shots of still more Confederate Legionnaires during from cover further along the high, vaulted corridor.

By fire and movement, the marines advanced, each section laying down cover fire for the onw moving ahead, the sections leapfrogging one another down the corridor, being sure to check and clean out rooms and intersections along their path, as they came to a wide gallery, a bank of were obviously lifts, regardless of who might've occupied this edifice once upon a time, along the far wall, blocked by a sodding great fountain in the center, made of the same star stuff as the rest of this ziggurat.

Perfect cover for still more Reb bastards, some firing from round the base, others firing tripod-mounted 23-, 40-, 60-, and 90mm heavy accelerators and storm guns from within the fountain itself

"Six-One-Seven" Six said over tacnet,"Six. Remain in place, provide cover; everyone else, on me!".

The rest of the force's three battalions crouching low, as they ran, charged the fountain, while Mandi and her section provided what cover they could, given many of their shots just sparked harmlessly off said fountain, though ricochets did account for some of the bastards.

Mandi walked her storm gun across the top of the fountain, aiming for the heavy accelerators and the Rebs manning them, while the rest of the force made it to the base of the fountain, then made short work of the enemy troopers there.

Then, an explosion in the fountain sent bloody water and bits of cockwomble to the burnished metal deck, Mandi, firing a final, rippling burst to take out the heavy accelerators and their crews, then led her section to join the rest of the force.

""That door over there," Six said to Buffer Cable."Think those might be stairs beyond it?"

Buffer Cable studied the door far to the right of the lifts.

"Assuming whoever built this bloody thing thinks like us" she said," could be, Six. If it is, I'd wager the Rebs have laid surprises for us, probably at every landing.

That's the other thing; only nine hundred of us, and this place looks to be least a hundred stories high."

*Going up the lift shafts also makes us vulnerable to ambuush," Six remarked, deciding,"First Battalion, on me; we'll hedge our bets: Second Battaliom will take the downstairs, Third, upstairs, and I'll come up through the lift shafts; we work out way up, then try and link up, if we can. Savvy?"

"Good," she added, when no one raised an objection, Seven Section leading the way toward the lifts, Mandi not having the first clue on how to open the doors, or what might be waiting behind them, the alien metal blocking all sensors.

Nothing was waiting behind the lift doors, which parted immediately on her approach, the Rebs apparentally as clueless about this sodding thing as the Marines themselves, and unable to secure the lift doors.

The lift cae , made of the same metal, as the rest of the structure, began its upward ascent, the moment the last of Seven and Eight Sections stepped inside, the car going up a level, before stopping, and opening its rear doors.

Right into a Reb ambush, the Confed Legionnaires backed up by a pair of 60mm heavy accelerators.

Sodding fuck