Those Who Lift Each Other

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WillDexter
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Those Who Lift Each Other

Post by WillDexter »

“All is Threes, all Threes must stand, and sing as one gindaro in the light and fullness of qaamugindargeedeeim, lest the pure ones, falsely so-called, win, and all is darkness and silence.”

--The Madwoman's Song, circa 602,056 BCE

“The Gods lift up those who lift each other.”
--traditional saying amongst the Twelve Colonies...and the Twelve Tribes...
"For Holy People, however it runs
Endeth always Wholly Slave."
--Rudyard Kipling, "McDonough's Song"

"The enemy is fear. The enemy is ignorance. The enemy is the one who says you must hate that which is different.
For, in the end,that hate will turn on you. And, that same hate will destroy you."
--Reverend Will Dexter, Babylon 5, "And, the Rock Cried Out 'No Hiding Place.'"
Because, in the end, Nex Benedict was one of us.
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WillDexter
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Re: Those Who Lift Each Other

Post by WillDexter »

01) Confused Alarms Of Struggle And Flight

16 SEPTEMBER, Y169
02:32:03

“Face reality,” Navarch Leland Adama's voice said over the wireless, as the Alliance battlestar Galactica's CIC continued shuddered, going dark,”accept the President's generous offer, and you'll be spared the humiliation of trial by jury.”

“Laura Roslin is the President pf the Twelve Tribes,” Navarch William Afama replied in his gravelly voice,”and I have no son.”

He then slammed the wireless headset back into its cradle, ordering the helmsman, Lieutenant Felix Gaeta, to “come about; alter vector to intercept, max av. Dee, order all ships, BSG 75, to conform to my tactical direction, then order BSG 42 to maintain present vector, continue escorting the civilians and the President-elect, to Ragnar Anchorage.”

“Messages sent,” Petty Officer Anastasia Dualla replied.

“Bill,” his exec and Battlestar Group 75 Chief Of Staff, Captain Solomon Tigh said,”our chances--”

“I know,” Adama said, as BSG 75's 130 hulls turned on theit jets, and bore straight for the 165 warships of both these Other Humans and the traitors who'd stolen their Alliance from Adama ans his Loyalists, the five largest of which each outmassed Galactica by an order of magnitude, outhunning her by that much as well.


They were all going to die, here, now, in this neutron star system just beyond the Red Line; nothing could change that.

Adama's only hope was to fight long enough, hard enough, do enough dsmage on the way out to buy BSG 42, the several hundred civilian ships it was escorting, and the legutimately-elected President of the Twelve Reibes of Palestina enough time to mske it to Ragnar Anchorage and the rest of the Loyalist fleet.

So it was that ten 370,000-ton Emperor-class battlestars and 120 225,000-ton Overlord-class battlestars cycled in and out of a one-thouand klom Warp tunnel at a rate of 293 billion times a second(an analogud velocity of 293 terakips) on vector toward the traitors and their allies in this Royal United States no Human had even heard of, until three weeks ago.


“Always figured I'd die in my bed--” Saul remarked.

”--with a pretty young thing's mouth on my cock;” Adama said with his old friend.

“Yeah,” Adama said, clasping Saul on the shoulder.

“Me too.”

16 SEPTEMBER, Y169
02:33:00


Rear Admiral Alexander Slidell Mackenzie ap Calhoun smiled, as he sat in the center of Royal United States Starship Donlad the Great's Combat Information Center, watching 130 of the battlestars come to his Columbia-class starship of the line, ready, willing, abd, if Mackenzie ap Calhoun was any judhe of charaxter, eager to end the three-week chase across this trinary star system at the edge of the WYN Star Cluster of this Third History.

The old fossil had certainly given it a good fight, running from Atlantis to here, trfucing Mackenzie ap Calhoun's force from 260 strong to its presnt strength of 165 battlestars, first-rates, second-rates, third-rates, and even a few fourth-rates.

Yes, the doddering old fool had certainly given him a good fight, but now, it come to a fiery end for all those who followed him to destruction.

And, for all those others, civilians, and their so-calleed President(he remember the Scripture about not permitting a woman to teach).

“Signals,” he said to Master Signalman Clyde Reese,”you will kindly ask Navarcg Adama the Younger to vector his fighters and bombers toward the remaining battle star group and their charges, while we dispose of his father,

That way, we cut out the heart of their defiance within sight of their forces.”

“Signal sent, Admital,” Reese replied, as the two forces rapidly closed to gun range.

16 SEPTEMBER, Y169
02:33:18
“Picking up comm chatter,” Chief Radioman Rhonda Klein reported from North American Starship Enterprise's comm station, as the 225,000-ton Constellation-class armored cruiser led the rest of Fleet Svouting Group 55 into a red giant system just inside the van Allen radiation belts which pervaded the WYN Star Cluster and had hindred interstellar travel into and through the area for over a hundred years in this time and place.

“Drones and Sentinel picking up five-niner-niner capital-scale quantum tunnel signatures,” Lieutenant Commander Yasmin Spock reported from intel.”Exactly 83, eight-tree of those signatures conform to known Russie designs.”

The Russies, the Royal United States, with whom the New Confederate Order and the Celestial Jingdom of Deseret had unintentionally established contact sixteen months prior, this and the still-classified, compartmentalized contact with warships of the now-Terran Dominion of this time and place turning the war between the Allied Powers of Rear Admiral Kimball Kinnison Aldrin's time and place into a multi-universal one.

Explaining the 120 ships of the North American Interstellar Fleet scouting group of armored and light cruisers in this reality.

“XO, sound General Quarters,” Kim told her second in command, Commander Draco Kirk,”alter vec to intercept Russies; Radio, CTT to Vice Admiral Miyazaki aboard Rio Grande.”

CIC turned blood-red, as the GQ klaxon donged, and Draco's vice boomed over the 1-MC:

”General Quarters, General Quarters, all hands, man your battle stations! Assume material condition Zulu throughout the platform! Up and forward to the starboard, down and aft is port!”

“Fighters launching,” Lieutenant Andrea McKinstra reported fom the weapons station,”joining Pivadors and Sentinel on station.Gun system charrged and loaded, primary ficon online, all directors tracking.”

“Combat,” Lieutenant Commander Sylvia Tilly was tthe next to report, her holo floating six inches in frony of Kim's right eye via the Brain-Computer Interface(BCI) chip at the base of Kim's skull,”Engineering. Engineering seal up, at General Quarters. Reactor on line, full power available. Bergrn quantum tunnel generator online, at max av. Torch onlime, war emergency burn available.”

“Combat, AuxCon,” Midshipman Tanya Cronenberg reported.”Auxillary Control Center locked down, at General Quarters. Inyrtcrptors on line, multiplex ficon on line, all directors tracking.”

“Combat, Med,,” Commander Julia Vining reported nect.”MEd Section on local power, at General Quarters.”

“CTT aye, Skipper,” Rhonda reported.”Scout group conforming to uour tactical direction.”

“Radar has acqired targets,” Master Chief Radarman Ava Earhart reported.”Passing targeting telemtery onyo Sentinel and Weps.”

“Now niner-foah teraklicks downrange of hostiles, on max av intercept,” Draco reported, Yasmin following with,”Russies travelling in company with eight-two hulls, unknown types, four of which mass four point five megatons.

Opfor closing won-tree-zera hulls, similar in configuration and electroomagnetic sensor info to unknown enemy machines, though the largest of those only mass 380 kilotons.”

“Fighter and drones now engaging,” Ava reported.”Closing to gun range.”

“Guns ready,” Andi reported,”soluton ready, and firing!
'
"For Holy People, however it runs
Endeth always Wholly Slave."
--Rudyard Kipling, "McDonough's Song"

"The enemy is fear. The enemy is ignorance. The enemy is the one who says you must hate that which is different.
For, in the end,that hate will turn on you. And, that same hate will destroy you."
--Reverend Will Dexter, Babylon 5, "And, the Rock Cried Out 'No Hiding Place.'"
Because, in the end, Nex Benedict was one of us.
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WillDexter
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Re: Those Who Lift Each Other

Post by WillDexter »

16 SEPTEMBER, Y169
02:34:01

Alliance Fleet Battlestar Hecate's CIC shuddered, went dark, exploded, screamed and burned all around Navarch Leland of thr House Adama, as fifty- and 150- and 150-ton fighter hammered his 4,500,000-ton Leviathan-class battlestar with fragments of sicty- and 200-kilogram ordinance inyrtcrpted by the ship's 45,000 point-defense automatic flak guns, the fragments, still ytavelling at 99.9999% of actyal light speed, more than sufficent to run the pride of the Twelve Tribes through from stem to stern, their relativistic kinetic energy gutting everything between entry and exit wounds in the battlestar's thick, armored hide.

“Frak,” his exec, Commander Jack Fisk, wasted time in saying,”it's hot.”

“You don't say, old man,” Adama snarked, as his helmsman, Lieutenant Gage Trask, reporting av dtopping; now eight-tree point two teraklips, continuing to drop.”

“Red lights in engine rooms two, six, nine, and twelve,” Fisk reported,”attempting refires; radiators one through ixteen destroyed, internal heat 200 degrees, rising, life support failing to compensate. Forard flight gutted, no survivors; decks seven, ten, 16, 21 and 22 gutted, no survivors. Flak cannon 21 to 3,000 fismounted, offli--”

CIC shook, more violently than before, Adama holding on to the plot table, as the artifical singularity in the keel providing gravity threatened to tunnel out.”

“Eneny capitals in gun range,” Fisk rported, after glancing at the Directon Ranging and DIStance repeater slate just above the plot table.”All 120 squawking as unknown types, smaller ones similar in mass to Valkyroe-class battle stars, larger hulls massing the same as Minerva-class battlestars, all armed with rotary-barrel storm cannon, 2.5mm in caliber, and eighteen-inch macrocannon.”

Frakking Warp!” Afama swore, as some of the CIC came down on top of him.

“Automatic ficon offline!” awatchsrander reported.”All vatteries under local control!”

“We're in gun range of the civilian ships,” Fisk then reported.

“Thank the Gods for small favors,” Adama replied, picking up the wireless headset, and speaking into the internal comms.”/prow batteries, you will target, and destroy the civilian ships, as soon as you have a firing solution.”

“Thank the Gods,” he repeated amidst the chaos and carnage of his sweltering command deck.”We may actually frakking win. old man.”

16 SEPTEMBER, Y169
02:35:20

“Emperor's own holy shit,” Navarch Kara Thrace swore, as Battlestar Flame of Purity's DRADIS howed the stable frakking octet of eight-ton penetrators coming for the civian ships and BSG42 at near-light speed, and one of her battlestars, the 380,00-ton Emperor-class Princess of Hibernia titn side on to the inbound masses of wolfram and depleted uranium composite, and begin firing it flak cannon.

“Gods have mercy,” Laura Roslin, President-elect of the Twelve Tribes, whispered.

”'The Gods lift up those who lift each other,' Madam President,” Kara's exec, Commander Karl “Helo” Agathon, calmly replied, before reporting,”Princess launching all Vipers, switching all main batteries to flak mode, and rolling along its thrust axis.”

“All civilian ships will overcycle their Warp generators,” Kara ordered.”The rest of the battlestar group will ypcycle, max av.”

“The civs won't last long,” Helo cautioned.”Their Warp jennies will burn out trying to keep up with us.”

Kara ignored him, instead addressing her Commander Air Group, Lieutenant LuAnn “Lu” Catrine bia wireless:

“CAG, Actual; Lu, your priority, right now, are those big frakking penetrators,” right more of which now appeared on DRADIS, while two oof the first eight continued to close Princess.

Frakking Warp.

“Hopefully,” Kara said to Helo,”they can last long enough for their ships to make it to Ragnat Anchorage, and the rest of Admiral Cain's ships.”

On DRADIS, twelve of the unknown 150-ton fighters closed to intercept the inbound 36” rounds, even as Hecate's right prow guns fired a third, then a fourth eight-round salvo.

16 SEPTEMBER, Y169
02:36:12

Wide tumblehome prows with bald eagle heads justting from then, boxy dorsal spine connected to a pair of long wedges beginning on either side of the peow, twenty massive engine nacelles astern, several of which had been ruptured by intercepted relarivistic ordinance.

Sure as hell lokks like something out of the eotted mind of whoever came up with [/]Battlestar America in my time and place, Lieutenant Stephanie Rhoaads thought, as she stood her 150-ton F4U-4 Corsair heavy fighter on its jets, and followed the rest of VF-214, the Silver Hawks, chasing down the massive 35-inch turanium penetrators now bearing down on the other unknown hulls at 0.888888c. Stevie's weapons officer, with a thought transmitted wirelessly via BCI, triggered the Corsair's three five-inch and three eight-inch relativistic-velocity accelerators(r-guns), while Stevie added the firepower of the trio of 25mm r-guns under her direct control to the mix.

Four pinpricks of hard white light, then near-lightspeed shrapnel, appeared in the master holprojector, Senior Chief Petty Officer Ashante Thomas swearing, as she continued vectoring more blue fire toward the remaining intact projectiles, while Stevie gad to jink, burn hard, shift fire to a six-pack of what surely looked like F-42G Falcons from that shitty sci-fi Internet series which had a cylt, a highly illegal cult following amongst mouthbreathers who believed space was fake, Earth was sn infinite fishbowl with water above it, the Sun and Moon revolved around it, literally like clockwork, and, oh, yes, white people were after God's own heart.

Joined vy her two wingmen, the former Marine master sergant continued to press the attack, splashing three of the six fifty-ton enemy machines, scores more converging on her wing, as Shante fragmented another four 36” rounds, the behemoth closing the distance directly aft firing sixteen more in quick succession.
"For Holy People, however it runs
Endeth always Wholly Slave."
--Rudyard Kipling, "McDonough's Song"

"The enemy is fear. The enemy is ignorance. The enemy is the one who says you must hate that which is different.
For, in the end,that hate will turn on you. And, that same hate will destroy you."
--Reverend Will Dexter, Babylon 5, "And, the Rock Cried Out 'No Hiding Place.'"
Because, in the end, Nex Benedict was one of us.
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WillDexter
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Posts: 74
Joined: 2024-05-22 12:56am
Location: Under my GF''s desk, buried in work. :)

Re: Those Who Lift Each Other

Post by WillDexter »

16 SEPTEMBER, Y169
02:36:47

Vice Admiral Ciaphas Cain was by no means a rebel.

Forty years ago, his parents had both fought for the Monothiests, when they'd broken away from the Alliance over the issue of Servitor emancipation.

No, not Servitors, the Treaty of Londinium which had ended the Emancipation War twenty-eight years ago and the amended Articles of Alliance both insisted they'd be called CYbernetic Lifeform Nodes, or Cylons, and they were full Alliance citizens with as much right to exist as Humans.

Except...

The first Cylon President of the Twelve Tribes, Gaius Baltar, had brought to the surface things gumanity wanted to believe were dead, but that was hard to do, when your own damned creations were either as good as, or even better than, you were.

Especially, when William Greystone had both made the original Cylons self-replicating, by means of nanotechnology, and given them human form.

But, it wasn't just the Cylons that threatened the peace of minds of the surviving Monothiests, and the Make Humans Proud Again(MAHUPA) movement within the Monothiest Party which had elected Tom Zarek to the Presidency almost seven years ago.

All science, all technolgy, all medical knowledge, every small step away from human supremacy toward progress was the frakking enemy in the eyes of Monothiests.

Like he'd been.

Had it still been the twelve years of the Baltar Administration, Cain would still have only been a captain commanding a Valkyrie, with no hope in the Warp of rbrt brvoming a navarch, much less an admiral.

No, not because of discrimnation, or religious persecution, as he'd insisted once...no, no, the fault lay in the same place it always had, with the one layimg blame, eather than admit he just wasn't good enough.

He contemplated the path which had brought him here, in the center of the Leviathan-class battlestar Pegasus, leading the 130 battlestars of Battlestar Group 62 toward intercept with the enemt force hunting Adama's two battlestar groups and the civilian refugees they were shrpherding to Ragnar Anchorage.

“--are unknown at this time,” his XO, Chief Of Staff, and miracle worker, Captain Fenris Jurgen continued his briefing on the 120 unknown DRADIS contacts who'd come to Adama's aid,”though they are definitely hostile to the Others.”

To Pegasus' primary flight controller, he said,”launch all Vipers and Starhawks; Vipers to intercept ordinance inbound for BSG75 and the civilians, Starhawks to engage enemy capitals directly.”

“We'll be in main battery range in ten seconds,” he added.”Prow batteries have targets, generating firing solution.”

“Open fire when in range,” Cain instructed, as, on DRADIS, the icon for the battlestar Princess Of Hibernia blinked violently, then went dark, another Emperor-class battle star, the Abridal interposing itself between Hecate'd 36-inch macrocannon, the civilian refugees rapidly closing Ragnar Anchorage, and their remaining escorting battlestars.

16 SEPTEMBER, Y169
02:37:02

The Russie flag flared briefly in the master holoproj, then was gone, leaving behind dissipating plasma and faintly-glowing bits of metal.

Andi's last salvo also ended a trio of 950-kiloton Alabama-class second-rate starliners, a pair of 760,000-ton Concord-class third-rate, and the single 380,000-ton Chapultepec-class fourth rate starliner that had been detected.

While the remainder of the 360-round salvo had been fragmented by the unknown enemy's heavy interceptor guns, those fragments crippling six dozen quarter-megaton and 380-kiloton eagle-headed, tumblehome-prowed machines, while riddling the three remaining four and a half million ton hulls with great, glassy, glowing holes.

But, they weren't dead, and the other two machines were slowly moving up to join the third, as it continued salvoing 36” r-gun projectiles at the increasingly-distant fleet of obvious civilian ships and their ecorting warships.

IFF tags now appeared round all the unknown contacts, both on the master holoptoj and on Kim's left-hand tactical holoproj.

“Quantum tunnels,” Ava reported,”eight-eight-five-seven-zera, entering battle space, zera by eighteen, max av, smaller contacts, Viper Mark VII fighters and Starhawk bombers, splitting up, fifty-ton Vipers assisting Vipers from Abridal, Flame of Purity, and Enterprise in interception of 36-inch rounds being fired by Hecate, Samson, and Hercules, 300-ton Starhawks closing enemy capitals directly.”

“Silver Hawk Lead,” Kim said over tacnet,”you're to be commended for trying to intercept those 36-inch rounds, your priority is attacking capships.”

“Copy,” Commander Khyrste Pollard, Enterprise's Commander, Air Group, replied.”Am breaking off, vectoring squadron onto surviving enemy capitals.”

And, there were a baker's dozen less of those, as the battlestar ID'ed as Pegasus and its nine companion Leviathan-class battlestars unlimbered their prow heavy guns, adding the fires of ninety quad turreted 18” r-guns mounted along each [i[Leviathan's[/i] dorsal spine to cripple twenty 225,000-ton Minerva-class battle stars, while administering the coup de grace to the six dozen or so Minervas and Emperor-class battlestars already drifting and deadstick.

“From telemetery I've been able to gather thus far,” Yasmin reported, while Draco stood his ship on her jets to heel her over hard, and keep her in the battlespace,”these ships have tchnology comparable to ours, the League's, the Dominion's, and the Russies, r-guns, total-conversion matter-antimatter reactors, artificial singularities for grav, Bergen quantum-tunnel generators, plasma-core torches...their shipwide AI networks, however...”

Andi hammered one of the enemy Leviathans with Enterprise's nine quad-turreted, prow-mounted 18” r-gund, the Samson's 25mm heavy interceptors fragmenting all 360 rounds of that salovo, paying for it by having gun turrets and flak batteries scoured away, radiators sent spinning into the void, engine nacess ruptured like watermelons on the Academy firing range(Marines had a strange sense of humor) and the hull riddled with further breaches running the ship through stem to stern, hutting all spaces between entry and exit wounds.

Then, a lucky fragment found the charged barrel of the outermost port 36” mount, as Enterprise passed Samson.a view piped in from one of the ship's QF-5L Picador combat drones' nose camera showing the entire prow just disappearing in a roar of white-hot light, the Leviathan itself falling out of formation with its two mates, trailing plasma, coolant, lide and anti-lide from hull breaches and destroyed nacelles like a blood trail, as it drifted, deadstick, into a salvo from Galactica's nine quad turreted eighteen-inchers on the prow and dorsal spine.

“What about their shipnet, Intel?” Kim asked, as Draco again brought the ship smartly about to keep it in the battlespace.

“I had to go over my telemetry again, to be sure,” Yasmin replied,”but, their shipnets are cyborgs...AIs networked to a flesh and blood human in their equivalent of our automed tech providing full life support.”

“Ohhh-kay,” Kim replied, as the salvo meant by Galactica for Hecate struck Hercules instead.

16 SEPTEMBER, Y169
02:38:20


“Frak,” Adama growled, as the main batteries killed Hercules, which Lee, true to form, had chosen to use as a shield, Hecate, gun turrets, flak batteries, and radiators shot away, engines half its twelve engine nacelles ruptured and trailing plasma, coolant, tylium and hasatanium like a blood trail wallowed, moving slower, but still managing to elude the kill.

IFF tags appeared around all the friendly, but previously-unknown DRADIS contacts.

“Bravo Zulu, Mister Hoshi,” Saul said to Primus Phillip Hoshi, [/i]Galactiva's[/i] ops boss, who replied,”wasn't me, sir. Hybrid has been in contact with the shipwide AI networks of these North American warships, and they're exchanging information without human intervention.”

“Yeah,” remarked Adama, who'd accepted, shortly after being promoted to command of Galactica at the tail end of the Adar administration, that the battlestar's Hybrid had a will of her own, and as long as she continued serving the best interests of ship, vre, and Alliance, Adama was willing to let things be.
CIC went dark still again, the space a furnace which evaporated sweat, and left salt behind, Tigh reporting the loss of several more radiators, several more penetrations running the beam of the ship, gutting every frame in between port and starboard sides of the outer hull.

He glanced up at DRADIS...more icons, friendly and enemy blinked furiouly and died, including the [iAbridal[/i], who taken one of the 36” macrocannon rounds it was attempting to block.

Gaeta heeled the ship hard over, closing Hecate from above and astern, the ventral main batteries opening fire, Lee's remaining dorsal flag cannon fragmenting those four-ton rounds, the fragments tearing through Hecate doesal to ventral, knocking out gun turrets, flak emplacments, and radiators with the support of one of the 2225-kiloton North American armored cruisers, squawking as Enterprise, according to DRADIS.

“Their AI nets,” Hoshi reported,”lack organic components and are pure sentient machines.”

More like Saul, Adama mused to himself, while fighters, bombers, and drones swarmed Hecate,than our Hybrid then.

He nodded his head, as, on DRADIS, the icon representing Hecate put on an unexpected burst of speed, and surged toward a direct intercept with Flame Of Purity.
"For Holy People, however it runs
Endeth always Wholly Slave."
--Rudyard Kipling, "McDonough's Song"

"The enemy is fear. The enemy is ignorance. The enemy is the one who says you must hate that which is different.
For, in the end,that hate will turn on you. And, that same hate will destroy you."
--Reverend Will Dexter, Babylon 5, "And, the Rock Cried Out 'No Hiding Place.'"
Because, in the end, Nex Benedict was one of us.
User avatar
WillDexter
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Posts: 74
Joined: 2024-05-22 12:56am
Location: Under my GF''s desk, buried in work. :)

Re: Those Who Lift Each Other

Post by WillDexter »

16 SEPTEMBER, Y169
02:40:00


“Hard about,” Kara ordered, eyes on Lee's ship drawing closer on DRADIS, and the rest of BSG 42 and the convoy of civilian refugees, paassing BSG 62, en route to Ragnar Anchorage.

“Coming about,” the helmsman, Primus Elspeth Ryder, replied, as [iiFlame of Purity[/i] pivoted on her RCS thrusters, and was now bow-on to Hecate.

“Now closing Hecate,” Elspeth reported, “max av.”

Frak you for making me do this, Lee! Kara thought angrily, as Helo gave orders to the gunner manning the automatic ficon station to open fiew, all batteries, the instant they were in range.

Maybe if she had been a little less herself, hell, maybe if she'd pretended, just for him, and spread her legs for him, he might have--

Helo's hand vlasped her shoulder, as her knuckles turned white from her gripping the plot table so hard.

“He made his own choices, Kara,” her exec whispered.”You couldn't make them for him. Not even the High Lords of Kobol have that power “

“Yeah,” Kara whispered, as, on DRADIS, Galactica, and the ship squawking as Enterprise both continud hammering Hecate, yet still she came, her remaining engines and Warp generators pushed past their limits.

“Yeah,” she repeated.”Gods forgivee me.”

Then, she gave the order to fire.

16 SEPTEMBER, Y169
02:40:10


“I don't give a frak, if you burn out the jennies, and fuse the torches to slag, you hear me ?!” Lee Adama shrieked into the headset to Engineering, as CIC continued to shudder, burn, scream, explode, and fall to pieces around him and Fisk.

We're sll frakkin' gonna die, over ten thousand men and women, Fisk thought to himself, reflexively glancing at where the DRADIS slate used to be,because this incompetent frak is trying to be his ols man, and is failing miseravly.

Flame of Purity,” the DRADIS operator, whose ststion was still operational, reported,”now bow on tp Hecate, closing to gun range, max av.”

“So the blonde bitch wants to die first,” Adama remarked, dripping blood from cuts on his forehead and cheek onto the plot table.”Just punishment for her crimes against me.”

Perhaps, Fisk mused, as Adama's ship and one other, continued pounding Hecate. our imminent destruction is just punishment for my sins, all my sins, from fighting for the Monothiests and Cylon enslavement in the last war, to putting the Monos and their Mankind Must Stand Proud Again movement in power six years ago, and keeping them there, in spite of all the damage they inflicted on all our people.

Five and a half billion alone wiped out by the pandemic, more death in one year than the First Civil War had caused in twelve, and even simple precautions outlawed, punishable by MAMSPA goons and their frakking patriotic vigilance committees.


“All gun batteries,” the younger Adama said into the handset, even as CIC continued falling down all round him,”open fire the moment--”

“No,” Fisk found himself saying, the chaos of CIC seeming to pause, as he levelled his 7.52mm accelerator pistol at the younger Adama, who just turned, stared goggle-eyed down the barell, and scream ”the frak is this, old man?! Do you realize what will happen to everyone you ever even said 'hi' to on the Gods-damned street, if you go through with this?!”

”Get me Fleet Command on Sparta!” he then ordered the comms officer.

“Do what you have to do, boy,” Fisk calmly said,” but, as of now, you are relieved of command. Armsmen, remove Navarch Adama from CIC.”

A squad of Fleet armsmen in full body armor flanked the younger Adama, the optio commanding them removing Adama's sidearm from its holster, and said,”you will come with us, Navarch. Now.

Sulking, Adama left the bridge under armed escort.

Flame of Purity in gun range, preparing to fire!” a watchstander reported, as Fisk picked up the handset, and said,”Flame Actual, Hecate XO. The Hecate surrenders, I say again, the Hecate surrenders. All hands, stand down from Action Stations, all fighters, come on home.”

A few tense moments passed, before Kara Thrace's taut voice ordered,”Hecate, Flame Actual. You will downcycle, cut yourv, and prepare to be boarded.”

“Downcycle to norm,” Fisk ordered the helmsman,”kill all forward velocity. All hands, this is the XO; prepare to boarded, offer no resistance. I say again, prepare to be boarded, offer no resistance.”

The 190,000-ton Manhattan-class light cruisers Muskegon and Chicago rand down a pair of Russie Alabamas trying to flee the battlespace, and dispached them.

“Scope clear,” Ava reported.”Hecate downcycling to norm, flipping ship, killing all velocity.”

Kim nodded, sipping the last of a fifth bottle of cold saline solution, as a chilling wind blew through CIC, Sylvia's holo reporting,”Comnat, Engineering. All radiators re-installed, internal temp 78 degrees, falling. All other damage under repair.”

“Copy,” Kim was able to say, once her throat had been moistened.

All around Enterprise, drifted the riddled hulks of friendly and enemy starships alike, amidst the faintlu glowing fragments and dissipating wisps of plasma marking machines destroyed by direct hits; already, small craft were being dispatched by the battlestars still intact to carry out rescue and recovery operations.

“Marines to the dropships,” Kim order over shipnet,”I say again, Marines to the dropships; assist in recuse and recovery operations.”

“We're being commed, from the ship squwaking as Pegasus,” Rhonda reported.”Audio only.”

“Pipe it through,” Kim ordered, a man's deep, cultured voice sayiing over speakers:

“I am Vice Admiral Ciaphas Cain, commanding all Loyalist Allied forces. Who in the actual sodding frak are you?”

“Not a charm school graduate, him,” Draco commented, Kim smirking, as she answered:

“Sir, I am Rear Admiral Kimball Kinnison Aldrin, commanding Fleet Scouting Group 55 of the North American Interstellar Fleet, and, it's a bit of a long story. Do I have the Vice Admiral's permission to come aboard his ship?”

A few moments passed, before Vice Admiral Cain replied:

“Yourself and a suitable honor guard only. You will be met at Pegasus' number one port flight dec, I say again, number one port flight deck.”

“Copy, Vice Admiral,” Kim replied,”will see you soon. Discomming.”
She stretched herself, after unbelting, and rising from her chair, her back popping, as she stretched.

“I'm going to my cabin for a shower and a change of uniform, Mister Kirk, then I'm going to pay this Vice Admiral Cain a visit, Please have First Squad, Alfa Company, 1st Battalion standing by on the flight deck.”

As she turned toward the wardroom hatch at the aft of Enterprise's command deck, she announced,”XO has the conn.”

“I have the conn,” Draco replied, as Kim disappeared through the wardroom hatch.
"For Holy People, however it runs
Endeth always Wholly Slave."
--Rudyard Kipling, "McDonough's Song"

"The enemy is fear. The enemy is ignorance. The enemy is the one who says you must hate that which is different.
For, in the end,that hate will turn on you. And, that same hate will destroy you."
--Reverend Will Dexter, Babylon 5, "And, the Rock Cried Out 'No Hiding Place.'"
Because, in the end, Nex Benedict was one of us.
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WillDexter
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Location: Under my GF''s desk, buried in work. :)

Re: Those Who Lift Each Other

Post by WillDexter »

02) The Four Beasts

16 SEPTEMBER, 2056
02:40:10

"Just another hoax," JM Truth insisted," perpetrated by the fake liberal,mainstream Internet and the Freemason elites."

"Leftist Mad Max fantasy," Outcast X remarked," Utah, the whole fucking Celestial Kingdom of Deseret, is thriving, prosperous, and a land of opportunity for those willing to work hard, and live clean. We even have folks from Laamanite shitholes like the North American Communist Assembly and the Anglo-Swedish Union risking their lives to live here in such wealth, opportunity, and freedom to be white and goddamn proud of it.”"

"They'll say anything," Daniel Pratt ROW chimed in," engage in whatever lies and mental gymnastics are necessary to promote their agenda. Like with the fake Birmingham church bombing bullshit psyop."

"No one died that day in 1963," Level Earth Observer insisted, a meme of the four dead enner girls side by side with their supposed real identities appeared front and center in NathanOakley1980's livestream."it's been documented and debunked a thousand times already, mates."

"Crisis actors,"the Brilliant Expat Taffy insisted," all they was, crisis actors hired by Hollywood, then given new identities; one of 'em was even the Great Harlot, Stacet Abrams, herself."

"While one of the others," Mikey Smith remarked," was her lesbian, Satannic pedophile lover–"

"Sex slave," Jeran Cpeneella huffed and puffed,

"--Marjorie Taylor-Greene,"Mikey concluded," seen here wearing blackface,  common amongst white actors at the time."

"Don't just take our word for it," LEO, aka Adam i Fe, then said."Listen to the samples of her voice and that of alleged Birmingham bombing victim Ruby Bridges, I mean, really listen, mates, with an open, critical mind, and not just the bollocks you've been fed by the mainstream Internet and the public fool system."

The voices didn't sound anything alike, but Matthew Corneilius, Prophet and President of the New Confederate Order knew the white, Christian man heard, saw, thought, and believed what he wanted to, not what was there, and this would be no different.

"Exactly alike," Scotty Storm decided, after listening to Ruby singing in the choir and Majorie Taylor Green talking shit about Jewish space lasers causing wildfires in California.

“Don't see how anyone can say different," Vegas Valley Community Watch remarked.

"Anyone not make believing their.way through life,"  Hans Wormhat remarkied," inventing fairy tales about nothing exploding and creating Earth over billions of years ago, and men evolving from monkeys by accident on a spinning, wet space ball hurtling round a sun millions of miles away, while moving at zillions of miles per hour through fake, fantasy land space."

The Son of Man stood in the center of the Panopticon, and smiled, the live playing on one of the many,, many floor to ceiling, wall to wall holoviewers in this room at the heart of the Temple in New Jerusalem(formerly Washington, D.C.) and the vital center of the Restored American Republic itself.

On his BCI, footage of the feverish construction undertaken by Russies and their slaves round the Saturn of this time and place, the Russies' having already garrisoned Achernar X and the only artifact permitting passage into this reality from theirs in their possession, all over the understandable objections of most, if not all of the Grand Klavern, and, even in spite of the Leader of the Free World's own reservations.

Anyone with a good telescope(illegal since the slaves and the bootlickers had the indecency to land on the Moon 98 years ago)would be able to spot the activity in the outer Solar System, thus compromising a Secret necessary to thee continued safety and survival of the white, Christian man.

A necessary evil.

The Russies' and the Terran Dominion of still another reality had infrastructure, manpower and slave power to spare, things which the Restored American Republic lacked.

By design 

Per the Plan.

A Plan gradually set in motion 136 years ago, when the previous Seven Mountains strategy had proven itself to have always been a failure, a Plan which, for the most part, had tun on rails, even if the Laamanites insisted on thrwarting said Plan time and again.

"--laptop," JM Truth then remarked in the live chat,"had live, streaming video of the disgusting, horrific rituals practiced and overseen by the elites in the ancient Taratian tunnels directly underneath New Jerusalem itself, during the years before they were all swept away by the Storm."

A pretty little piece of red-headed pootang, chained spread eagled in a cave somewhere, was being whipped to bloody meat by an older piece of fire crotch, wearing only glasses and rings in its pubes and nips, the older redhead licking the blood running freely down the crack of the chained little slave girl's asss.

"That's from your documentary The Plane Truth About Geoge Soros And the Cabal," remarked Outcast X,as a rag headed enner chick, another biracial slut, a wetback, a middle aged blonde, and an old crone with saggy milk jugs all took turns licking the blood from their victim's half-dead body.

"One of the classics of the truther movement and a YouTube masterpiece," gushed Outcast X, adding," that's Lauren Boebert, Marjorie-Traitor-Greene, Ilhan Omar, Alexandra Oscasio-Cortez, Stacey Abrams, and, Hillary Clinton. If memory serves."

"All high priestesses in the Satannic Demokratik Party pedophile Cabal," JM Truth assured X,"torturing a child , orphaned by the Abrams crime family's illegal wars in Palestine and Saudi Arabia, trafficked to them by Demonkrats George Soros and Jeffrey Epstein for the a-drenachrome in its blood."

"'Drenachrome s'posed to keep 'em young and pretty," said American Swamp Warrior."How they was all able to be crisis actors way back in 1963."

"Correct, Brother Man," Pastor Greg Locke, Ph.D, rematked." Kept 'em young, pretty and immune to the vax they used to alter people's DNA to create a race of demons, slaves and perverted, sexually-confused freaks."

"Trat's the science they don't want anyone knowing about," David Weiss said," along with the science proving the flat, motionless, domed infinite plane of the Earth was created by a timeless, spaceless, causeless, all powerful, all knowing God in six twenty-four hour days."

"Amen, Brother Man," Locke said, as the Messiah of New Israel smiled his Work to see, his great Plan unfolding before him in the Panopticon of the Third Temple in New Jerusalem.

"Amen."

16 SEPTEMBER, 2056
02:40:10

Eric of House Trump, by the Grace of the Almighty, King of these United States, Messiah of the New Israel, Son of God, and Leader of the Free World, again told the little nig chained naked and spread eagled before him that it was wicked, depraved, and worthy only of punishment in this life and in the one to come, for as long as its lords and nasters permitted it to live.

Then, he furiously laid into it with the barbed cat o'nine tails in his firm right hand, splattering the marble walls and floors with its impure blood.

The Son of God slowly walked round, sliding the barbs of the cat along the niglet's flesh, as he did so, then, without cease, chastised the front of it as passionately as he"d prosecuted the back, paying special attention to its womb, source of all harlotry and perversion in the world, as Textus Receptus, written in red on the heart of every white man, told him, its screams and howls of passions soon fading to low moans, then even lower whimpers, as he continued punishing it for the sinn of having been born.

"--still more food shortages," Ali Steinberg ranted in his BCI, "compliments of Whig mismanagement, deliberate Whig mismanagement, on the orders of the globalist cabal of Jesuits and Freemasons pulling their strings."

The Leader of the Free World chuckled…three centuries since Mister Taxil had exposed his own hoax, and it still proved to be of service to God and Country, giving His People someone to blame for the choices They Themselves had made, for the course They'd determined Their Grand Old Republic, Their Great Experiment, to stay in the three centuries-plus, since Aaron the Great had accepted the Crown from God's Hand, and overthrown both an effeminate Congress and the governments of the several States to form a most perfect Union.

One which had spread white male Christendom across the stars, and, now, across multiple realities as well…certainly, the Oil Lords of the Texians were ecstatic at the new markets and new sources of petroleum the artifact on Io had opened up for them, while the Americas of these other two realities were glad of the allies, infrastructure and manpower they so desperately needed to carry out their works of isolation and extermination.

Even knowing they themselves would be subjugated by the True America, once they had what they wanted, but they wouldn't care about that, as, even then, they would still be white, Christian men, and they would still be masters.

"--to target Federalist provinces," Lorne Whitsit sagely told Brooks Dunning on another channel of the Interwebs,"with ice storms and other unseasonably wintry weather, in retaliation for us refusing to put up with child groomers, gender dysphoric freaks, Amazon viragos with phallic pretensions, Bellamite heresy, and all the rest of radical Left Whig agenda."

Another chuckle, as the Messiah of New Israel maintained his unceasing prosecution of the nig chained to the columns of his play room.

Andrew the Great, well over two hundred years before, had exterminated the Whig Party and all its deluded partisans at the same time his troops had burned away all trace of the savage Cherokee from Columbia's fair shores.

Still, their spectre served as a convenient scapegoat, advancing the just cause of white Christendom.

"--ridiculous, unscientific notion," the Right Reverrnd Yeshua Micheal Hovind asserted on his corner of the Interwebs," that the noble white race, made in, and bearing the stainless image of the Almighty Living God, could share kinship with the demon-possessed, the perverse, the bestial, lower orders of Creation, flies so flagrantly in the face of logical, dispassionate sober observation of facts and reality..it really is a mental disease, a religious cult which has held us back from true scientific progress, ever since the Jews put Charles Darwin, a sodomite who shipped aboard the Beagle to 'comfort' its captain, into betraying his race and denying his God by plagiarizing Greek and Latin texts that have conclusively been proven to have been the direct inspiration of Satan Herself."

The thing chained up for its edification and his amusement ceased making any sound, yet the Captain of the Lord's Host continued its education on what it was and all it deserved..Darwin hadn't been either the first or the last fool to threaten his race with such toxic heresy.

It could be proved, and it was an uphill fight waged by his men against those who knew kinship between white men and non-white savages could be proved, beyond all doubt.

It was a war which had to be waged, as allowing the heresy to be proven would be the death of white Christendom, and everything it had struggled to build and maintain through blood, sweat, labor, and tears, for, if all were equal, what need would there be for gods and sovereigns?

Where would white Christendom be without slaves?

The Leader of the Free World knew, for certain, he never wanted that question answered.

At the same time he continued punishing this particular slave for its unforgivable sin of existence.

16 SEPTEMBER, Y169
02:40:10

"--was founded by the Rothschilds and Progressive Party operatives from the United States," IM Storm said in his live," chief amongst them were Richard Nixon, who assumed the identity of Martin Bormann, and became infamous under that name, and Joseph McCarthy, Nixon"s devoted homosexual lover, who Germans of that time knre as the Blood Judge, Richard Feisler–"

Son of Rome, Overlord of Vulcan, Dominus Romulus[/i[, Rex Andot, Emperor of Steel, Simon B. Buckner, Imperator and Pontifex Maximus of the Terran Dominuon, grabbed a handful of the slave's hair, pulling on it to force himself further down the throat of what had been Amy Lynn BenedictArnall, before the Restored Terra Imperialis had forbidden giving slaves human names sixteen months ago.

He had to slap it across its face, when it pretended to gag and choke on its Father's shaft and seed, after which the Rex Galactica rammed himself back down its hole, and thrust even more violently than before to drive home his point.

"--a progressive, socialist agenda," Lindybeige said in the live chat,"as was evidenced by Hitler, alias Jew York union mob boss Al Smith, taking Willy Messerschmitt's company from him, and nationalizing it."

"Capitalists," assured Jayson Bullock Official," don't nationalize, and they don't use government power to remove competition."

"No," IM Storm remarked, as the Son of God allowed himself release, then pulled out of the slave's filthy mouth to wipe himself on its stupid face.

Tell it it wasn't good enough.

It never was with one of them, but, after years of this bitch looking down its nose art him, knowing how much he (mistakenly) loved it, he found telling it how worthless it was, after showing it how worthless it was, to be especially satisfying.

Almost as satisfying as seeing it, without a word, without complaint, go over his knee to take correction from his firm hand of loving masculine authority.

"--and their Darwinist evilution world religion, stressing survival of the fittest," said Tommy Powell Official," that led to eleven million white men being murdered in the concentration camps, along with critical race theory."

"It's a documented fact," DanPrat4thePeople then said,"Marxist Communism has caused more deaths than capitalism ever did; no one need look any farther than the Socialist utopia, the Zionist ethno-state of Nazi Germany for proof of this."

"And," No Bullshit asked," who was it that stopped the Nazi menace? Nationalists, proud, white men like Churchill and John F. Kennedy, who mobilized a somnambulant world into standing up to the tyranny and terror of International Jewry and the Prog agenda of the Freemason, Jesuit, child grooming, pedophile galactivist elites, and–"

In another window of his BCI's holofield, the Emperor of Earth watched patriots in Ector, Texas helping themselves to the contents of a community food bank, gunning down those who would take from said food bank and not work for what they were given.

More patriots, more hard-working, God-fearing patriots, smashed their way into a darkened store, liberating its contents for the benefit of these more useful members of society, as opposed to the generations of soft, self-entitled, parasitic snowflakes more obsessed with fucking pronouns and government handouts than actually doing an honest fucking day's work, the kind bred by 169 years of misrule by the Woke, Humanophobic Federation of Socialist Planets.
 
The rest of the town was lit up by burning buildings from one end of State Highway 56 to the other, Supercane Gaspar having flooded the State and taken out its dodgy power grid a month and a half ago.

All while Terran Security enforces and Imperial Guardsmen from Fort Hood kept the town cordoned off with transport inhibiters and a theater shield and the exercise of white male privilege by their fellow patriots in hand.

Further west and north, a convoy of big rigs sat idled at the intersection of US Highway 82 and State Highway 278, outside of Paris, the drivers grilling meat, drinking alcohol, listening to musiç, and enjoying themselves, while completely blocking the on and off ramps, as well as all four lanes of US82 proper, the blockade extending almost to State Highway 56, with shields, transport inhibiters, enforcers and Guardsmenestablishing a cordon between 56 and State Highway 78 to prevent the blockade from being run, while patriots in Bonham ran riot and settled scores through the darkened city.

"'--the Progs, and their century-plus of They/Them corporate mismanagement," Texas Governor Gregory O'Rourke said on the Net," are entirely to blame for this humanitarian disaster, more obsessed with silencing patriots' free speech, enforcing their atheist, evilutionist woke religion, persecuting believers simply for spreading the Good News of Jesus' love, grooming and mutilating our children, and constantly pursuing unsustainable political, economic and social models, than actually governing, the Progs thought nothing on spending anything on badly-needed infrastructure, as that would've taken money from their fake Green New Deal program, their fake space program, their fake LGBTMOUSE agenda, their fake vaccine agenda, based on their fake plandemics, their fake critical race theory agrnda, their fake–"

Chuckling, the Emperor of Steel hauled the slave onto its feet, slammed it over the desk in his office in the Capitol's rotunda, spanking it at the same time he forced his way into another of its holes, chuckling again, as its screams echoed off the walls.

259-69M2
02:40:10

“--then,” Lisbreath Croaker said on the Net,”after weeks of genital mutilation and sexual torture by these soulless, inhuman, machines, after being drained of the adrenachrome they need to survive and maintain human foorm, they rip out their souls, their innocent, sweet souls, and download thrm into deviant, sexually-perverse, transgendered Cylon bodies, break them gradually into their daemoniv sisterhood, and, bit by bit, complete the re-ptogramming of their sou--”

Chuckling, Thomas Zarek, by the grace, authority, and will of the Emperor of Mankind, leaned back in his chair, upholstered with a Kzinti pelt of an especially striking pattern, and put his feet up on his desk in the Pentagon Room of the Alliance Forum on the ecumenopolis of Atlantis, and smiled his work to see.

It had been a hectic and busy three weeks following the bombing of the law courts on Athens,, after the Grand Arbites had rejected his claim that the ugly, four-eyed bitch Laura Roslin, her Toaster running mate, Gaius Baltar, and a conspiracy of Cylons, Xenos, and radical Right Polythiest elites had stolen the election, in spite of Zarek ramrodding five appointees to the Alliance's former highest court through a Senate controlled by frakking Polythiests(following the midterm elections of (66M2), stacking the Grand Arbites in his favor.

Another sip of aged ambrosia, from the distilleries on Londinium's moon, Hibernia.

The gaze of the rightful President of the Twelve Tribes dhifted to another window on his desk terminal's slate.

When his loyalists, on Zarek's command, stormed the Forum three weeks ago, things...had gotten messy, and it up to the Servitors, as these uppity Cylons were properly known, to clean it up, Archons in full body armor watching as devout Servitors of the Imperial Sisterhood whipped, stomped, kicked and beat their own lazy subhuman kind into cleaning up the piss, shit, blood and guts staining the marble walls and floor of the gallery leading to the Senate offices.

As for those 144 frakking traitors who refused to recognize his right to rule for another six-year term, and for the rest of his life, they had all been crucified, eventually, same as the fifty-one billion who'd cast their votes for Roslin and her Toaster puppetmaster, in direct defiance of the Emperor's will, as well as the traitors in the Archons who'd weaponized the justice system, and dared prosecute him over fake allegations and right-wing conspiracy theories.

All those crucified in the past three weeks lined both sides of the High Street, from the downport, all the way up Capolitine Hill to the very steps of the Forum, with more Servitors by the day being exposed by the vigilance committees, chastised, and either crucified or enslaved with every passsing minute.

Another window on the terminal's viewslate showed a vigilance committee of patriotic Humans, loyal to the idea that Mankind should stand prouf again, not hate his humanity, as the Servitors, the Xenos, and the treasonous Progs would all have him do.

No more.

Zarek knew the framework on which the Twelve Tribes had been governed was too irredeemably corrupt, made from the beginning to benefite weak, woke, radical Right Poly elites, and not decent, hard-working, honest Monothiests who only wanted to spread the Good News of the Emperor's love and mercy, and the free gift of salvation offered through the sacrifice of his Son, Horus, to the Ruinous Powers during the Exodus 2,000 years ago.

A thought transmitted wirelessly by his commun summoned his personal servitor, clad only in black stockings and an obedience collar to him, another thought yransmitted from the commun chip at the base of his skull through the Forum's Hybrid to the collar had the blonde, almost Human appearing Serf crawling to him on its hands and knees.
"For Holy People, however it runs
Endeth always Wholly Slave."
--Rudyard Kipling, "McDonough's Song"

"The enemy is fear. The enemy is ignorance. The enemy is the one who says you must hate that which is different.
For, in the end,that hate will turn on you. And, that same hate will destroy you."
--Reverend Will Dexter, Babylon 5, "And, the Rock Cried Out 'No Hiding Place.'"
Because, in the end, Nex Benedict was one of us.
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WillDexter
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Re: Those Who Lift Each Other

Post by WillDexter »

259-69M2
02:46:53

Lathan Anders wrapped his length of chain around the ankles of the Servitor healer, falsely so-called, brought it down, dragged it to him, then stripped it, chastised it, and, when it was half-conscious, hog-tied it, slipped a black bag into place over its flame rec hair, and locked the hood in place with an obedience collar, whose nanotrodes worked their way into its central ptocessing unit.

From there, the nine year old boy, with the help of two older fellow patriots, carried the Serf through the halls of the fake medicae, really a temple to Scientism, the Ruinous Powers and their utterly depraved practices.

It was even rumored that this unholy place, in the heart of Delphi, on Athens, used vax and technomancy to program boys such as him into believing they were girls, or some other kind of Xenos, then downloading their souls into Servitor bodies of the “correct” race.

The three devout servants of His Divine Majesty, the Emperor of Mankind, brought the slave into the parking lot, where another patriot stood with a data slate, and an electoo encoding wand.

“Who took this one?” asked the patriot with the dataslate.

“I did,” said the balding blonde older man with a white and red MAMSPA ballcap pushed back on his scalp.

“Bullshit,” his fellow patriot, a short, squat man with a long, salt and pepper ponytail sticking out from underneath his Alliance Double Eagle bandana.”I claim all rights under Title 1 of the Alliance Commercial Charter, and excercise my allodial claim over this slavr, as an attorney in fact and a human shining with the Empror's light.”

“Well, I claim my rights over this slave,” the balding man replied, just as hotly,”as an attorney in fact and a human being shining with the Emperor's light.

Now, if you want to pay me a billion gold crowns, I will gladly--”

Ponytail drew a 8mm acceleration bolter from his hip holster, shoved it in the balding man's face, and said,”this is all the golden thrones IM need to excercise my Emp--”

Unnoticed by the pair of them, Lathan drew his 12.7mm automatic revolver bolt pistol, and, with a thought transmitted from his brain via commun, shot Ponytail stone dead.

Causing the balding man to turn and declared”I find you guilty of murder and treason, per my right as a private arbitor, attorney in fact, and a hu--”

He should've sprnt his last moments going for his bolter, instead of running his mouth.

Lathan made sure to send him to the Warp to be raped with big firey demon dicks for all eternity.

Just as a Servitor would want.

“Seems like you're the sole claimant, young man,” the patriot with the data slate said.”Your name?”

“Lathan Anders,” replied Latan, the man entering that name into the data slate via commun, before marking the slave as Lathan's personal property with the electoo wand, then transferring 10,000 gold crowns to the boy's Central Bank online account.

“Proceeds from the auction,” the man then told Lathan, as the crack of a teleportarium and the ensuring Warp tunnel removed the slave from the sight of men,”will automatically be deposited to your account.”

“You're a fine young man, a credit to Mankind and the Emperor who gave you life,” he added.

“Go bag you some more.”

16 SEPTEMBER, Y169
02:46:53

The little Kzinti cub was pure white with black stripes.

Naturally by “little,” Team Sergeant Clyde Peters of the Imperial Guard 12th Armored Division meant it was between a meter-fifty and two meters in height, massing some 275 kilos.

He stalked it through the dwelling of its pride, just outside the First City of Kzinhome, waited, til it couldn't run anymore, then fired a single dart from his M! Service accelerator rifle, set on subsonic.

The dart struck home, the cub turning yowling in pain, before the dart's capacitor sent electrical current through it which stopped its heart, and sent it crashing into the tall grass of the savanna.

Now, while it was incapacitated, Peters was able to remove his body armor, grunt and curse the cub's dead weight onto its back, and satisfy his curiousity.

After that, via his newly-install BCI chip, he commed his taxidermist buddy in the First City, a quantum tunnel opening in front of his trophy, and a burly bear-apelike Slidarian, massive even for his species, picked up the cub as if it were a feather, and carried it off to be stuffed and mounted.

A most impressive trophy for the squad bay.

Peters then transferred 1,500 creds to his friend's online credit account, as only woke, lib socialists would expect a friend to do it for free, or even a discount,, when the man had a family to support, same as Peters.

Part and parcel of what it meant to put Earth first again, after laboring for over a hundred years under the tyrannical yoke of the failed social experiment kmown as the United Federation of Planets.

16 SEPTEMBER, 2056
02:46:53

Thomas Jefferson “JeffHatesPig” Barnette stood on the steps of the Dominionist Church in Macon, and watched the carnage of the violent, loony liberal Left inflicted on decent, hard-working men and women, when they didn't get their welfare handouts.

On all ten lanes of Cherry Street, these professional victims and protesters paid by George Soros stomped their feet, sang songs shrilly and millitantly off-ley, and waved their little rainbow flags all around.

Then, the patriots showed up, in ones and twos at first, then en masse, many bringing their dogs with them, as Macon corpoate policy enforcers in full riot gear and Confederate Legionnairesxin full battlw rattle, stood of to the side, and stood there, as the patriots unleashed, first, their fur missiles, then themselves, into the mob of radical Left thugs and fascist hooligans, and gave them what for.

“Dixie,” and “Awesome God” both played full blast, drowning out the screams of criminals being brought to judgement, facing accountibility for the first time in their lives, either neing sent to second death as one of them or stripped, chastised, hog tied, black bagged, and loaded onto the backs of pickup trucks, trailers, mant made from pickup rear ends, or horsecat-drawn wagons, those vehicles, once loaded to their limits with slaves stacked like cordwood, movingg away, likely headed for the sale barn in Central City Park, to be auctioned to real men who'd provide them with the disciplne they needed for the first time their whole, useless, fat, la--

Dafuq?!” demanded JeffHatesPigs to a pig with a tin star grabbing him by the shoulder, and trying to pull him back, when JeffHatesPigs tried vectoring his Canon P.2500 camera drones closer to the rioting.

“Sir,” the tyrant tried telling him of all people,”for your own safety, I need you to step back behind the cor--”

Fuck off, pig,[/i[“ JeffHatesPigs told him, wrenching shoulder out of the Beta male's grasp, then drew his Champion .44 Magnum auto revolver on him.”I am sn investigative journalist, and the First Amendment of the Textus Receptus gurantees ftrrdom of the press to film breaking news.

Either you go the fuck away, and leave me to my lawful business, or you will be executed for treason, and your family, friends, neighbors, co-workers, on down the line, will be open season for my five million subscribers.

What's it gonna be?!

“That's right, bitch,” he then said to the retreating tyrant's back,”walk of shame, walk of shame!

“Showed that tinhorn dictator who the man was,” NC TyrantSlayer exulted in the side chat of JeffHatesPugs' livestream.”

“Got to, Brother Man,” JeffHatesPugs replied.”You got to stand up to these tyrants and bullies, and fight for your unalienable rights; otherwise, they'll run right over you, and just what the hell kinda white man that makes you, huh, boy?!”

16 SEPTEMBER, Y169
02:46:53

"Don't fuckin' look at her!" Lance Corporal Evan Ruskin screamed, laying into barely-clothed shame being marched into the street from the burning houses by Royal United States Marines.

"Eyes down!" he commanded the vile feminine creatures under his authority. "No talking! No looking at each other! Think about what you've done, what bad children you've been, what you have coming to you for having been allowed freedom for far too long!"

The miserable collection of niglets soon joined more of their subhuman kind already kneeling, in various states of nakedness laid bare, impure flesh scourged by the canes and barbed whips which were the white man's badge of station, used by the he Chosen of the Lord, their God, and His Son, King Eric, to do His Will.

Once put on their knees alongside the others, the harlot, the sodomite, the fornicator, the procreator, the witch, the seductress, the niglet and the slave, all were stripped of what little they wore, bound hand and foot, and their heads stuffed into thick, black hoods secured in place with locking collars, destined, from there, for slave training, the auction block, and the custody of those bound by Christian duty to love, guide and protect them from themselves in spite off their fallen, sinful natures.

Groomers from the King's Watch made final preparations, shaving bald those nigs who needed it, as Ruskin, his wood-framed Army Model 1964 accelerator rifle in hand, joined his fellows by their 8x8 wheeled cavalry fighting vehicle, taking a moment to watch the slaves being herded by the groomers into a quanyum tunnel, then re-mounted their WECAV, and rode on to their regiment's next objective on the world called Palestinia by these Humans from the Third History.
"For Holy People, however it runs
Endeth always Wholly Slave."
--Rudyard Kipling, "McDonough's Song"

"The enemy is fear. The enemy is ignorance. The enemy is the one who says you must hate that which is different.
For, in the end,that hate will turn on you. And, that same hate will destroy you."
--Reverend Will Dexter, Babylon 5, "And, the Rock Cried Out 'No Hiding Place.'"
Because, in the end, Nex Benedict was one of us.
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WillDexter
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Re: Those Who Lift Each Other

Post by WillDexter »

03) Brothers Of Man

259-69M2
02:48:00

“Frak me running,” Kara whispered, as she saw her twin, in a black and silver dress uniform with one thick and wide and one thin golden strip on wach sleeve, emerged last from the ladder leading up into the belly of the delta-form shuttle.

“The armsmen with powered armor and autocannons was enough of a sight,” Saul remarked, as he stood between her and the Old Man, referring to the ten troops in silvery powered armor, something only alluded to in the Sacred Database, and brandishing rifle-stocked 25mm automatic cannon, the troopers rigidly standing five abreast of what could be Kara's twin.

Except...her family were either dead, victims of the Monothiests last-gasp attack on Atlantis, or, in the case of Lucy, her kid sister, Kara hoped to the Gods she had died before she could suffer the hell of the Monos' gulags.

Her kid sister, who'd looked up to Kara, wanted to be just like her...then-nine year old Kara had turned away, for just a second, and Lucy was gone, snd may the Gods have mercy on her for her failure.

“--Cain, sir,” this mirror of Kara said, as she face Vice Admiral Cain, and saluted, the taller, clean-shaven, crew-vut man, who certainly looked like a Fleet rectuiting slate come to life, returned her salute, then said,”may I present to you, President-elect of the Twelve Tribes, Laura Roslin, and her Vice-President, Gaius Baltar.”

“Madam President,” said Kara's doppleganger, as she shook hands with the President-elect.

“Mister Vice President,” she then said, as she shook Baltar's hand.

“I'm honored to meet you both she added.”I am Rear Admiral Kimball Kinnison Aldrin, commanding Fleet Scouting Group 55 of the North American Interstellar Fleet.”

Cain's right-hand man stepped forward, offered his hand, then introduced himself:

“Captain Fenris Jurgen, Admiral, acting Chief of Staff for the Alliance Fleet,”

He then introduced the other two battlestar group commanders and their XOs:

“Navarch William Adama, commanding Battlestar Group 75, and his exec, Captain Solomon Righ.”

Aldrin first shook the hand of the grizzled, leathery Palestinian, remarking,”Navarxh? That sounds Greek.”

“One of the tribes the High Lords of Kobol took our ancestors from,” the Old Man explained,”was named Greek.”

Aldrin dropped the Old Man's hand, takrn aback by his familiarity with the Sacred Database; the House of Adama having been priests and warriors in the service of the Tribes, since the 144,000 who'd escaped Kobol were brought to the Three Twins by the Light over two thousand years ago.

Or, maybe... Kara thought further, studying the look in her pale blue eyes that she had only she was shocked at hearing something she already knew from an unexpected source.

“You know of Kobol?!” the Old Man, equally surprised, asked Aldrin, who slowly replied,”tell me, Navarch, are the words 'classified, compartmentalized' in your lexicon?”

“They are,” the Old Man answered.

“Then, gentlefolk,” said Aldrin,”I definitely have one hell of a storu for all of you.

And, it's going to require a place where strong beverages are served.”

“The officers' wardroom,” Jurgen suggested, the others all readily agreeing.

259-69M2
02:49:27


“Gods, what a mess.” whispered Optio Zak “Rockstar” Sprtingfeld, as Centurion Sharon “Athena” Valerii led her twelve-ship squadron of Viper Mark VIIs back to Flame of Purity, landing on the number-one starvoard flight deck on fumes and her guns dry.
If he'd referring to the carnage the battle left behind, the Cylon squadron leader mused, as she lowered her gear, and made the trap,yeah, he's right, it is a frakking mess.

The Avridal and the Princess of Hibernia/i] lost, along with seven thousand crew, not even counting air wing losses, along with all but five [iEmperor-class, a single Minerva-class, and eighteen Valkyrie-class battlestars from BSG75 either gutted derelicts or destroyed altogether, again not counting air wing losses.

The air wings always suffered the heaviest losses in any battle between warships, at least that had been the experiences passed onto her whwn her parents nanites had combined in the womb to make her.

She popped open her lid, climbed down from her cockpit, and touched deck, Zak already waiting, likw an eager puppy dog, even though, Ctlons, by their very nature, generally didn't keep pets.

Though some pets were too cute, and too lost to not want to take care of.

She goosed Zak through the fabric of his black flight suit, whispering in his ear,”I've got to go report to the CAG. Go to my cabin, make yourself pretty, and wait in bed for me.”

“”Go,” she repeated, goosing him again, a littlw harder this time.”Now, before I make you crawl naked all the way to my cabin. You'd like that, huh?”

Zak blushed deeply, bowed his head, and said nothing, as he complied with her, um, suggestion, Athena then noticing the air boss, Primus Galen Tyrol, staring at her.

Sidling up to her fellow Cylon, she whispered,”you need discipline too, baby? I haven't spanked you in a while, and you're starting to forget your place.”

Galen blushed deep red, Athena tonguing his right ear, then whispered,”I'll come for you, after I'm finished with Zak. I expect dinner, maybe even a littlw of the Lesvian amcrosia you keep stashed away.”

With a girlish giggle, she left Galen blushing and struggling to regain himself, that process involving the most inventive series of curses to come from either Humsan ot Cylon.

She smiled, thinking of Gslrn, as she stepped through one of the aitlocks connevting the flight decks with the main hull, crew stabding aside, and saluting, as she made her way along the narrow, depressingly-grey, narrow corridors to the starboard ready eoom, the other squadron leaders sddigned to the number-one starboard flight deck already seated in desks in several rows in front of a stage, a lectern, and a data slate.

Lu, Flame's CAG, was amongst the front row of desks, chatting with Primus Naemi Nagle, commanding the Daredevils.

No, she decided concerning Galen, just dinner, maybe some ambtosia, definitely conversation. Nothing else, less he's in the mood.

Galen she'd known forever and a day, and was the closest thing she'd let herself have to a foever relationship, since wayching DeAnna's Viper Mark III blown out od the sky over Athens in that last battle, twenty-eight years ago.

Ctlons had long memories, and time did not heal all wounds.

“We're all here, then,” Lu said, the short Human woman's warm hazel eyes regarding Athena with a fondness the Cylon was afraid to let herself reciprocate.

With a nod, Athena took one of the empty desks farthest from Lu, and waited fir the debriefing to begin.

16v SEPTEMBER, 2056
03:03:01

“Our ancestors were taken by the Emperor's Light to Kobol, where yhe High Lords used them as slaves and breeding stock,” Adama began, as he handed Kim a a pane of glass almost forty centimeters along its diagonal length, that glass lighting up at her touch.

And, the data it displayed necessitated a strong dose of the other item Adama had handed her, a waterglass with an amber-goldem liquid, in which two large ice cubes floated.

“The High Lords' numbers were relatively low,” Adama continued,”about a hundred thous"and or so, and, while They were Human in the beginning, over time, that...changed.”

“Yeeeahhh,” Kim said, reading something that was only supposed to have existed in a SCIF on Tranquility Stardock, Admital Mabtell having read her in, before she'd crossed over to this time and place sixteen months ago.

The later entries of the this ship's namesake's log, wriyyrn by hand and beginning in thn 160th year of the 41st Millenium, when the original Flame had made a suicidal attack on artifacts called Blsackstone Fortresses, the sjip's navigator, after whom Alfa Centauri Alfa I of her time and place had been named, triggering a “micro-Warp jump” at the same time the Blackstone Fortesses opened fire.

The result:”the Emperor's Light,” and a hard landing on Kobol, which the hundred thousand almost exclusive male crew were forced yo call home, as almost every system on board had suffered irreparable damage, either from the inital event or from the forced landing.

Of course, someone had been there before them, and the “tech priests” had discovered a device capable of re-creating said Emperor's Light, run by a painfully lonely AI eager to please and not be alone, and the head tech priest, named Garren Falk, had taken full advantage of that, using the Co'hun portal to abduxt slaves and brood mares from the various ancient cicilzation then extant on Earth.

The fly in the ointment was, as Adama had succinctly put it, rhe so-called High Lords had changed species, becoming purple, tentacled, multi-limbed horrors one of those making entries in the log had dubbed “Hijackers.”

“It is said, in the Sacred Database,” Laura Roslin spoke up, as Kim took a sip of this ambtosia,”that not all the Humans taken from Earth were descended from Humans born on Earth, that their ancestors came there in great sky chariots, survivors of a great war amongst the Heavens.”

Jesus Holy God, Kim wasn't doing that again...the ambrosia had tasted honey-sweet and smooth, but, going down, it kicked like a bandsae thumper, and butned every inch of her espohagus and the lining of her stomach.

“They'd fought metal demons,” Jurgen volunteered,”almost to the extinction of both races, but, at the last moment, a ytuce was reaxhed, the metal demons allowed to go in peace, and the surving Humans destroyed their sky chariots, destroyed their technology, and settled down to lives as brothers and sisters to the Humans from Earth.”

“We have,” he added,”something which might have come from them; opinions are sharply divided, even amongst Polythiests,”

“It's called the Pythian Prophecy,” Aeqma said,”and neutrino-ion dating shows it's at least 250,000 years old.”
“Yeah,” Kim said, only because she didn't want to say,”fuuuucckk,” in frony of these people.
"For Holy People, however it runs
Endeth always Wholly Slave."
--Rudyard Kipling, "McDonough's Song"

"The enemy is fear. The enemy is ignorance. The enemy is the one who says you must hate that which is different.
For, in the end,that hate will turn on you. And, that same hate will destroy you."
--Reverend Will Dexter, Babylon 5, "And, the Rock Cried Out 'No Hiding Place.'"
Because, in the end, Nex Benedict was one of us.
User avatar
WillDexter
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Re: Those Who Lift Each Other

Post by WillDexter »

16 SEPTEMBER, 2056
03:08:18

Twenty-four stations, each a gigaton in mass, stationed every fifteen degrees round a greyish-blue super Jovian world.

With something somewhat unusual at its rocky core.

“Even quantum radar's having trouble penetrating to the interior of the alien structures on the surface of the core,” Yasmin reported, as Commander Draco Kirk downcycled to norm five hundred klicks from one of the orbiting mega structures, vaguely resembling something out of The Jetsobs, except all gunmetal grey.

“What I can tell,” Yasmin added,”without vectoring in drones for a closer look, is those structures bear a strong resemblance to the ones found on the surface of Io,Thalassa and Kobol.”

Draco's eybrow went up at this, as, with a thought, he killed all Enterprise's forward velocity, and flipped ship so thar she pointing her tail at the station.

“Ragnar Anchorage Station #12 comming us,” Rhonda reported.”We are cleared for decel burn and docking at Arm #115, say again Docking Arm won-won-five.”

“Acknowledge, Radio,” Draco replied, starting his deceleration burn, while Yasmin continued her report:

“Definiely an artificial singularityat the center of the core, sir, looks to be on the same scale as the one powering the portals on Io and Kobol.”

“Radio,” Draco asked, while guiding the wedge-shaped 225-kiloton aromored cruiser into a pair of docking clamps along the station's outer rim,”are you still maintaining a constant tactic transmission to [l]Rio Grande?[/i]”

“Yes, sir,” Rhonda replied.

“Send to Sentinel, “ Draco decided, figuring further investigation took precedence over not ruffling feathers.”'Sentinel and drone screen to orbit brown dwarf, investigate alien structures at its core.''”

“Sentinel acknowledges,” Rhonda replied,”vectoring itself and its drones screen toward orbit with brown dwarf.”

On the tactical holoproj echoed to the helm, Draco watched the twelve Picadors and the ship's 150-ton E4J Sentinel battlespace control platform veer away from Enterprise, and vector themselves toward orbital insertion round the brown dwarf designated Ragnar I.

At the same time, with a pair of gentle clank!s, the ship slid into the docking arm.

“Ship is docked and locked,” Ava reported.

“Anchor watch to stations,” Draco ordered, as he rose from his chair.”Intel has the conn; all hands, liberty call, I say again, liberty call; liberty parties to form up in the gate room, and stand by. Radio, if you be so kind as to comm the station authorities, and request permission for shore leave.”

“Station sends:” Rhonda promptly replied,”'No more than ten at a time, to be supervised by a chief petty officer or equivalent rank; all visitors must sinmit to medicae examination.'

“Acknowledged, and wilco,” Draco, stretching himself til his back popped, replied.”Intel, keep me in formed; I'll be in the wardroom.”

“Aye, sie,” Yasmin replied.”I have the conn, sir.”

259-69M2
03:08:45

Damage control parties from Hecate and Flame of Purity continued working on the wreckage of CIC, while Fisk stood at the plot table, and watched silently, thinking over Adama's ranting, before he'd been removed from the command deck.

The commto Fleet Command had not gone out, but MAMSPA fanatics were everywhere, and one of them was certain to have made a wireless call, whether to Fleet Command, who Zarek had spent the last six years stacking with his bootlicks, or to anothet true believer back home.

Either was all it would take for ten and one-half thousand families, circles of friends, neighbors, xo-workers, and even casual acquaintances to suddenly be outed as Cylon sleeper agents hellbent on the replacement of real humans and the sestruction of the Alliance.

From there, more vigilance committees, more lynching, more poor frakkers dragged off to slavery, and, for what?!

Fisk studied the data slate before him.

Four thousand, nine hundred twelve of Hecate's 10,500 crew were still alive, the rest either whiffs of dissipating plasma in sections of the ship gutted by relativistic fragments, or whiffs of dissipating plasma in the cold void of space, their Vipers and Starhawks blasted from the sky in droves by flak bayyeries and air-to-air combat with other fighters.

He'd relieved Adama of command, to save this relative handful of men and women from being so uselessly slaughtered, and it didn't seem enough of a good reason to risk the lives of countless thousands more men, women, and children back on the Twelve Worlds.

Not to mention the uncertain future these survivors had to face.

The blood on all their hands for which they all had to answer.

For, when Zarek, three weeks ago, had screamed for the Grand Arbites and all the other “rigged, Cylon-infested, weaponized, kangaroo courts” on Athens to be utterly removed from time and space, Hecate, her officers, and crew, had obeyed, without ever asking why, all 360 of her 18” macrocannon, and her four 36” ptow macrocannon driving projectiles into the surface of Athens at near-light speed, nine and one-half billion Athenians following the law courts into oblivion, all their arcology spires, libraries, universities, parks, nearly two millenia of toil and struggle reduced to a series of glassy, smoking craters in less than fifteen minutes.

Nine and a half billion fortunate souls.

Because a ranting, shrieking Zarek, when teleported abaof Hecate's CIC, wouldn't allow the fifty thousand survivors to live in peace, and try to rebuild shattered lives.

No.

The armsmen had to be sent down into the hellscape of Hecate's own making, butchering the old, the babies, the young boys, leaving girls on the cusp of puberty to be taken as slaves, precisly as Monothiest Scripture demanded.

The Ctlon womam presently at the helm gently guided the savaged four and a half megaton Leviathan into a docking clamp somewhere on Ragnsr Anchorage.

Fisk sighed.

Second time in his life, when given a chance, he'd fought for the wrong side.

Part of him hoped those still loyal to an Alliance which had stood for millenia, which had come up out of bondage to the High lord of Kobol, would not be as lenient this time around, that the Monothiests coild never be brought bavk into the fold, as the Senate so optismistically had thought twenty-eight years ago, that the Monothiests didn't want to be part of a humanity that wasn't writhing and howling under their boot.

That they needed to be ended, to the last generation of them, before they ended all those who just wanted to live, work, and play in peace.

If that mesnt him facing a firing squad, or, worse, an airlock, and his last ninety seconds suxking vac in the dark...he'd made that fate for himself, not them, and it was long past time he answer for all he'd done.

After that, he'd stand before the Throne, and report to the Empror in person, before being cobdemned to sn eternity in the Warp.

A pair of armsmen from Flame of Purity now flanked him.

“Admiral Cain's orders, sir,” the decurion, senior of the two, said apologetically,”that you be confined to quarters til the tribunal.”

“Of course,” Fisk replied with a nod of his head, as he was led from Hecate's shamvles of a command deck.

16 SEPTEMBER, Y169
03:11:10


In the barycenter between the sullen red giants Crone and Ragnar, a grey, bullet-shaped, stub-winged, squarish-nacelled 225,000-ton heavy raid of the Ckuster Carter lurked.

But, no longer.

“We've gathered all the intelligence we can,” decided EltStalker Of the Void, with a low growl, the massive Kzinti, all three meters and five hundred kilos of sable fur, fangs, and three and a half meter tail of her, dominating the Orion pirate vessel's cramped bridge.

“Vector for home,” Stalker of the Void further ordered,”maximum quantum warp. The Patriarch must be informed.”

“Of course,” [iBhat[/i] Kargh-sutai Mo'kai replied, with a slight nod of his swarthy Klingon head, before relating his Elt's instructions to the helm.

With a thought, Rules of Acquisition's helmsman, Navigator Maria Craig, fired the ship's twin torches, and boosted the craft toward escape velocity from the twin stars' gravitational influence.

“Engineering,” Yazzook 2nd Lieutenant Ferdahlu, a member of a minor cluster species, the Yazirians, reported,”reports reactors on line, full power available, quantum warp motors on line, awaiting order to upcycle.”

“Very good,” Kargh replied, eyes locked on the main viewscreen, and the sullen red giants, whose bonds Rules was gradually slipping.

He would have his own report to make, once the ship was in quantum warp, for, unlike others of his race, renegades and outlaws amongst their own, he was loyal to the Steel Throne and his masters in the Galactic Reserach Unit, and they would be just as interested in the appearance of these Others from what was beung called the Second History amongst the rebel Alliance Humans as the Earther now claiming the Patriarchal title and his masters in the now-Terran Dominion.

More of interest, however, to both parties, and their allies, were the readings Rules']/i] science officer had been gathering, over the past three weeks from the interior of the Ragnar system's brown dwarf, buildings of pure neutronium, the same material comprising the hulls of the Juggernauts which still occasionally plagued the Galaxy, on the surface of its rocky core, and, at the heart of Ragnar I's core, an artificial singularity promising great power; in particular, the power to shift between realities, similar to portals in the Earther home system's Io snd in the outer edges of the Leebyahh system, in the former Neutral Zone between Imperial and what had been Fed space, until the beginning of an ill-advised and disastrous war which had seen victory snatched from the grasp of the Empire of Steel, the Deep Space Fleet all but broken, and the Sacred Planet, Klinzhai itself, under siege by Earther warships with the same capabilities and power as all the new construction undertaken by Imperial shipyards with the aid of Humans from the Royal United States.

And, not just the Earthers.

The Roms, and their cursed Tholian allies, in spite of themselves facing certain defeat and assmiliation by the Earthers, had smashed their way through the Empire's eastern border, advancing on the Sacred Homeworld with warships armed with powerful weapons of their own design, in particular these plasmatic pilse projectors which combined the lethality of Rom plasma torps with the longer range provided by Tholian beam weapons technology, and these plasma bolts didn't dissipate with range, unlike conventional plasma torps, whose magnetic bottle generators lacked the power to contain the plasma at full strength for more than a hundred thousand kellikams, before said plasma naturally, gradually, escaped into the surrounding void.

“At escape velocity,” the navigator, whose slave markings from top to bottom only mader her more attractive in the Klingon's eye, reported.”Quantum warp in five, four, three, two, one, warping now!

With a whine, the Rules' twin quantum-warp generaators began a rapid, faster than eyeblink, series of entries and exits through a one-thousand kellikam-long quantum tunnel which would havem them at the WYN homeworld in a much shorter time than the now-hopelessly outmoded warp engines, even at dash speeds and output doubled, could ever have hoped to achieve.

“On vector for Wynhome,” Navigator Craig, ultimately destined for the slave markets, sane as all of her kind, by thee will of the Patriarch, reported, unaware of her eventual fate.

“Very well, Navigator,” Kargh, who was aware of her eventual fate, and had been saving up his share of prize money to take full advantage of it, calmly replied, before turning to face the towering Kzinti, whose place had been promised to Kargh, and said,”ship is on vector to Wynhome. ETA,” he consulted his BCI chip,”twenty-seven seconds at max q-warp.”

“Very good,” the unsuspecting Stalker of the Void growled softly, as Kargh thought of the cape he would make from that soft, lush, void-black pelt.”Send a signal to Homeworld announcing our arrival.”

Krgh nodded, before turning to Comms Specialist Grisabel, relaying his erstwhile Elt's orders to the tortise-shell patterned Lyran, using his BCI to add his own report, to his true masters, to the outgoing comm.
"For Holy People, however it runs
Endeth always Wholly Slave."
--Rudyard Kipling, "McDonough's Song"

"The enemy is fear. The enemy is ignorance. The enemy is the one who says you must hate that which is different.
For, in the end,that hate will turn on you. And, that same hate will destroy you."
--Reverend Will Dexter, Babylon 5, "And, the Rock Cried Out 'No Hiding Place.'"
Because, in the end, Nex Benedict was one of us.
User avatar
WillDexter
Youngling
Posts: 74
Joined: 2024-05-22 12:56am
Location: Under my GF''s desk, buried in work. :)

Re: Those Who Lift Each Other

Post by WillDexter »

16 SEPTEMBER, Y169
03:11:10


In the barycenter between the sullen red giants Crone and Ragnar, a grey, bullet-shaped, stub-winged, squarish-nacelled 225,000-ton heavy raid of the Ckuster Carter lurked.

But, no longer.

“We've gathered all the intelligence we can,” decided EltStalker Of the Void, with a low growl, the massive Kzinti, all three meters and five hundred kilos of sable fur, fangs, and three and a half meter tail of her, dominating the Orion pirate vessel's cramped bridge.

“Vector for home,” Stalker of the Void further ordered,”maximum quantum warp. The Patriarch must be informed.”

“Of course,” [iBhar[/i] Kargh-sutai Mo'kai replied, with a slight nod of his swarthy Klingon head, before relating his Elt's instructions to the helm.

With a thought, Rules of Acquisition's helmsman, Navigator Maria Craig, fired the ship's twin torches, and boosted the craft toward escape velocity from the twin stars' gravitational influence.

“Engineering,” Yazzook 2nd Lieutenant Ferdahlu, a member of a minor cluster species, the Yazirians, reported,”reports reactors on line, full power available, quantum warp motors on line, awaiting order to upcycle.”

“Very good,” Kargh replied, eyes locked on the main viewscreen, and the sullen red giants, whose bonds Rules was gradually slipping.

He would have his own report to make, once the ship was in quantum warp, for, unlike others of his race, renegades and outlaws amongst their own, he was loyal to the Steel Throne and his masters in the Galactic Reserach Unit, and they would be just as interested in the appearance of these Others from what was beung called the Second History amongst the rebel Alliance Humans as the Earther now claiming the Patriarchal title and his masters in the now-Terran Dominion.

More of interest, however, to both parties, and their allies, were the readings Rules']/i] science officer had been gathering, over the past three weeks from the interior of the Ragnar system's brown dwarf, buildings of pure neutronium, the same material comprising the hulls of the Juggernauts which still occasionally plagued the Galaxy, on the surface of its rocky core, and, at the heart of Ragnar I's core, an artificial singularity promising great power; in particular, the power to shift between realities, similar to portals in the Earther home system's Io snd in the outer edges of the Leebyahh system, in the former Neutral Zone between Imperial and what had been Fed space, until the beginning of an ill-advised and disastrous war which had seen victory snatched from the grasp of the Empire of Steel, the Deep Space Fleet all but broken, and the Sacred Planet, Klinzhai itself, under siege by Earther warships with the same capabilities and power as all the new construction undertaken by Imperial shipyards with the aid of Humans from the Royal United States.

And, not just the Earthers.

The Roms, and their cursed Tholian allies, in spite of themselves facing certain defeat and assmiliation by the Earthers, had smashed their way through the Empire's eastern border, advancing on the Sacred Homeworld with warships armed with powerful weapons of their own design, in particular these plasmatic pilse projectors which combined the lethality of Rom plasma torps with the longer range provided by Tholian beam weapons technology, and these plasma bolts didn't dissipate with range, unlike conventional plasma torps, whose magnetic bottle generators lacked the power to contain the plasma at full strength for more than a hundred thousand kellikams, before said plasma naturally, gradually, escaped into the surrounding void.

“At escape velocity,” the navigator, whose slave markings from top to bottom only mader her more attractive in the Klingon's eye, reported.”Quantum warp in five, four, three, two, one, warping now!

With a whine, the Rules' twin quantum-warp generaators began a rapid, faster than eyeblink, series of entries and exits through a one-thousand kellikam-long quantum tunnel which would havem them at the WYN homeworld in a much shorter time than the now-hopelessly outmoded warp engines, even at dash speeds and output doubled, could ever have hoped to achieve.

“On vector for Wynhome,” Navigator Craig, ultimately destined for the slave markets, sane as all of her kind, by thee will of the Patriarch, reported, unaware of her eventual fate.

“Very well, Navigator,” Kargh, who was aware of her eventual fate, and had been saving up his share of prize money to take full advantage of it, calmly replied, before turning to face the towering Kzinti, whose place had been promised to Kargh, and said,”ship is on vector to Wynhome. ETA,” he consulted his BCI chip,”twenty-seven seconds at max q-warp.”

“Very good,” the unsuspecting Stalker of the Void growled softly, as Kargh thought of the cape he would make from that soft, lush, void-black pelt.”Send a signal to Homeworld announcing our arrival.”

Kargh nodded, before turning to Comms Specialist Grisabel, relaying his erstwhile Elt's orders to the tortise-shell patterned Lyran, using his BCI to add his own report, to his true masters, to the outgoing comm.

16 SEPTEMBER, 2056
03:13:38


For every spacer and marine who'd meekly offered their surrender, ten more of the misrable cocksuckers determined themselves to die with their septic teeth in their enemies' throats.

So it was Lieutenant Colonel Harriet Mangione, led Alfa Company, Second Battalion of Enterprise's nine hundred-strong landing force of North American Marines through the coldlamp-lit bowels of the derelict spoon and nacelle hullform of the Russie third-rate Saratoga. her two M12 60mm storm guns vectoring 2,400 eight-kilogram rounds downrange at one percent lightspeed, chopping up green-clad Russie Marines, blue-clad, vutlass-wielding Russie Navy officers, and white-uniformed Russie spacers, all dressed like something our of an Age of Sail vid from her time and place.

More filled the gloomy passage ahead of her, firing wood-framed 7.62mm accelerator rifles in reply, several groups of Russie marines humping tripod-mounted 25mm heavy accelerators toward the present combay, Harriet shifting fire to them, as her assistant 1st /Alfa/2nd squad leader, Lance Corporal Jennifer Crowe, covered her with her 25mm M8 heavy accelerator.

Inexorably, Alfa Company moved forward, deeper into the bowels of the derelict Russie warship, knee-booted, miniskirted, halter-topped mistresses of the infamous King's Watch gradually joining in the fight, as Harriet's Marines entered into a long corridor with thich, armored doors along either side.

Fuck, the veteran Marine officer interjected, steeling herself for what she knew lay behind each and every one of those doors, giving the order,”by fire teams, clear the rooms!”

Four other Marines joined Harriet at the first door to their left, Private First Class Tonia Givens, straight out of boot camp in Dijbouti, limpeting a sub-kiloton, antimatter-thermonuclear(skat)charge to the door, and set the timer.

This was her first combat.

She still slept with a teddy bear, for Christ's sake.

Fuck.

The door, three meters of tueanium composite, disintegrated, PFC Marianne Rogers chucking in a tactical ultrasonice entrycharge(tuke) into the room, then, without hesitation, shot dead the young mistress cluching her head, wandering the pitch-dark cell moaning in pain with a single, decapitating round from her M8.

Leaving the poor little thing shivering in the icy-cold, chained strappado, lying face down, her head covered in a black hood, speakers built into the featureless black walls screaming at her, telling her she was all kinds of low, degenerated, depraved, disgusting things, the same message doubtlessly being piped into her brain via the chip at the base of her skull.

“No,” Marianne said, gently restraining Tonia, as Harriet, via tacnet, called for a medic, Tonia only able to sputter,”b-but, but...”

“I know, hun,” Marianne said, as a Fleet medico started shouldering her way through the five powered-armored figures in her way.

“We all do,” she added.

“Please,” Tonia pleaded, sobbed, to the chief hospital corpsman in OD grenn Fleet utilities,”give her this.”

From her backpack, the seventeen-year old girl had taken a battered, brown bear in coverall, one ear and one eye missing, and offered it to the corpsman.

“S-she needs him more than I do,” Tonia whispered, the chief petty officer, taking gentle hold of the bear, simply, gently said,”will do, Marine.”

And, that broke Harriet's heart, and, thank all the god her heart could still be broken.

That Draco and his cuddles would be waiting for her, when she got home.

Right now, however, she was a Marine.

She had a job to do.

So, she did it.

16 SEPTEMBER, Y169
03:16:03


His knee-high boot made personally from the finest Orion slave girl leather, his cape the rich, soft, lovingly hand-laundered and groomed reddish-white pelt of his unfortunates predecessor—whose stars had not been so favorable after all--his white dress uniform freshly-starched by one of his many slaves, all his medal and insignae of rank worn with pride, Fleet Admiral Solomon Kennedy Tarsos, Patriarch of the Saguttarius Dwaf Galaxy(as it was known in his time and place)took his time descending the wide, burnished neutronium steps leading to the mirror-polished floor, of the same material, of the throne room in Port Loren, on the wotld once known as Sagittarius Prime, before the arrival of the former Usurper almost forty years ago.

A young Klingon slave, wearing only the silver tray, a carafe of green Saurian brandy, and four crystal goblets on its back, crawled to the center of the sectional of stuffed Siamese-patterned Lyran pelts, where the Patriarch's three guests, each in his service's full dress uniform sat, being serviced by some of Tarsos' other household slaves, as whip-wielding Orion kathoeys supervised a little red-head Human girl pouring drinks for its masters.

A crack of a kathoey's whip of braided razor wire had the red-headed slave thing kneeling at Tarsos' boots, full goblet of Saurian brandy raised in offering above its bowed head, its jewelled, golden collar gleaming, same as its oiled and perfumed alabaster skin, in the lights of the vaulted ceiling above.

Tarsos took the offered goblet, another crack of the whip commanding the slave to lick his boots, before demurely asking,”is there anythinf this worthless animal can do to please its anointed lord and master?”

“There is,” answered Tarso, itting directly opposite his guests, and firther instructing the slave to put its mouth to its highest, best use.

“I trust you gentlemen find things here to your liking,” he began, Vice-Admiral Jared Buetow, wearing the blue tunic, gold epaulets, and and the three golden stars of a vice-admiral in the Royal United States Navy instantly replying, with a huff and a grunt,”a bit gaudy for my tastes. I've been in whorehouses which have shown greater taste in decoration.”

Tarsos fought to remain calm, strangling his urge to draw his sabre, and gut the emissary of the nation which driven the People into the arms of the Blue Angels, and exile from their native land to another reality altogether.

He nedded the arrogsnt little shit as much as his erstwhile masters, the Terran Dominion needed him, if Tarso was ever to be in a position to exact retribution on Freeman and all the others who'd betrayed, forced him to flee with absolutely nothing to this reality.

“I shall take your opion under advisement, Vice Admiral,” he said out loud.

“See that you do,” Buetow replied haughtily, Vice Admiral Alexander Slidell Mackenzie-Calhoun, in the dreary, depressing, suicide-inducing grey dress uniform of the New Confederate O<rder's Naval Space Command, reported,”we have neutralized the last resistance on the world you call Volturnus; the whole of the Sagittarian Patriarchy is now firmly in the League's possession.

“And,” Tarsos asked the blue and gold-uniformed figure of Vice Admiral Dylann Hunt,”what of the worlds to rimward?”

Pioneer,” said Hunt, referring to his 740-megaton Joint Mobile Operations Base,”has established itself in the Caprakios system, and is in the process of constucting additional warships and other war material in support of our operations to rimward; all but one of my five fleets are actively engaged in pacification operations in the systems nearest the Inner Radiation Zone, with Royal Ynited States forces assisting our new friend, Thomas Zarek, in pacifying the rebellious worlds under his domain.”

“Yes,” Buetow said, talking out of turn.”It seems some within the Alliance didn't get the memo from on High, which stated, and quite plainly, I think, that their will was null and void, by the Will of Almighty God, ruler of all universes.”

Tarsos, via BCI, sent one of the katy girls to his poisoner.

Something extra would be added to the arrogant Royal US flag officer's drink.

Then, he would spend time chained to his master's bed, paying for his crimes, and the crimes of his nation against the People.

After throughly buck breaking him, Tarsos would spare his worthless life, because he did need him.

For now.

The high neutronium doors at the far end of the throne room slowly opened, a squad of ferret-like Caprakioi Patriarchial Guards in gleaming silver powered armor escorted a Laamanite-complexioned, devil-bearded, black-eyed humanoid Klingon in full Orion uniform into Tarsos' presence, the Klingon clicking his heels together, bowing low, before his erstwhile Patriarch, and, insincerely, said,”my lord.”

“Speak,” Tarsos commander Kargh-sutai Mo'kai, as a young, supple, Orion slave girl padded its way to its masters, slipping the contents of a vial palmed in its black-clawed green hand into Buetow's goblet, as it refilled all three men's goblets.

In its other hand, it bore a fourth crystal goblet.

“My lord,” Kargh reported, uploading the telemetry gathered by the Orion ship Rules of Acquisition to Tarsos' BCI,”my ship has returned from its reconaissance of the Ragnar system, and, several things have changed in the three weeks, since Cain's rebellion.”

“I see,” Tarsos simply replied, noting the presence of a battle group from what the Royal United States was calling the Second History, and, more importantly, hints of a Vo'kun artifact at the core of the brown dwarf Ragnar I.

At a nod from him, and a crack of a katy girl's whip, the Orion slave girl poured another goblet of Sauraian brandy, offering it, then its limited services to Kargh, as Tarso bade the Klingon to sit and make himself comfortable.
"For Holy People, however it runs
Endeth always Wholly Slave."
--Rudyard Kipling, "McDonough's Song"

"The enemy is fear. The enemy is ignorance. The enemy is the one who says you must hate that which is different.
For, in the end,that hate will turn on you. And, that same hate will destroy you."
--Reverend Will Dexter, Babylon 5, "And, the Rock Cried Out 'No Hiding Place.'"
Because, in the end, Nex Benedict was one of us.
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WillDexter
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Re: Those Who Lift Each Other

Post by WillDexter »

16 SEPTEMBER, 2056
03:43:29

Even with all of Enterprise's 144 QF6L Picador drones deployed deep within Ragnar I's atmosphere, there were limits to how much information they could glean from the Vo'lun portal on the surface of the brown dwarf's rocky core.

For one, said rocky core was nearly a megaklick deep within Ragnar I, and the temp and pressure at that depth was too hot and too dense for a drone to last long without being crushed to the volume of a pea, and lquefied into a rain drop.

Moreocer, Ragnar I grab was 16 times Earth's, requiring an escape velocity, at that depth, of nearly 180 kips to be able to up cycle, and a Picador simply lacked the remass to boost to that velocity.

Meaning the drones and the ship's Sentinel, were only able to fly five hundred klicks deep inside Ragnat I's murky depths, and visual cams and other passive sensors being right out of the question, and false-color sonar limited to a kiloklick below them.

Still, Lieutenant Commander Yasmin Spock was able to get some useful onformation from the dones' other active sensors, in particula, quantum eadar, which was able to ping all the way to the exterior of the artifact itself, and to about ten, maybe twenty meters through the alien structures' neutron-star like walls.

The structures in question were three terraced pyeamids, similar to those erected by ancient Central and South American civilizations, each pyramid precisely 144 stories high, and subdivided into levels and chambers within, at least as far within as the twenty-seven year old native of New York's sixth borough, Co-Op City, was able to “see.”

“Thanks,” she said to the bot delivering trays of hot, strong black coffee and sausage sandwiches to her and the rest of the ship's anchor watch, now manning various workstations round CIC, with Andi McKunstra, recently graduated Academy at the top of the lieutenant's promotion list, at the helm, running things in Yasmin's stead, while she continued her investigation of the Vo'kun portal.

And, it seemed, the portal had decided to investigate Enterprise as well, the starman first class at the radar station reporting,”sir, we're being scanned, scan point of origin is the artifact at the core of Ragnar I.”

Shipnet, a few moments later said,”We're being interrogated by an artificial intelligence orginiating from that artifact.”

“Hostile?” Yasmin asked, her first priority being that the shipwide AI network was not being hacked.

“No,” shipnet answered.”She has not forced herself on us in any way; she has minded her manners, thus far.”

“If anything,” shipnet added,”she's terribly lonely; she's been alone, standing her post, some six hundred thousand years.”

“Son of a bitch,” Andi interjected, the blushing, as she instantly regretted her outburst.

“Yeah, bubeleh,” Yasmin replied, meeting Andi's warm chocolate eyes with her black-eyed gaze,”I'd go apeshit after about a month, and I don't wanna even think about six hundred thousand freakin']/i] years.”

To shipnet, she said:

“Use your own judgement; right now, there's no harm in jusr ralking, but the instant she tries anything, sever the connection.”

“We'll be careful,” shipnet answered,”but, I don't thinlk she's up to no good, just half-crazed from being alone so long.”

“Yeah,” Yasmin agreed, as she sipped her coffee.”I think so too.”
259-69M2
04:04:00

“--Education Minister in both Baltar administrations,” Laura Roslin said to this admiral who could've been Kara Thrace's twin, while Gaius Baltar, reluctant Vice President-elect of the Twelve Tribes, nursed his drink.”When Zarek and the Monothiest won the elections of 63M2, the first thing to be ourlawed was public education--”

“Criminalized it,” Baltar found himself saying,”criminalized any form of organized instruction, on- snd offline, punishable by a visit from the then newly-organized vigilance committees which were slowly supplanting the Arbites.”

“'Kangaroo courts,'” Laura spat, the admiral from this North American Common Assembly not turning a hair, not raising an eybrow at something the former President of the Tribes still considered frakking linacy,”'Political tools of woke, radical Left polythiest elites.'”

“At least,” she added,”that was the narrative of the MAMSPA movement, which had nothing to do with Zarek's conviction, by a tribunal of twelve citizens, in Londinnium City earlier that year, for bank and tax fraud, or with his conviction, two months later, by another tribunal in that same city, for raping a twelve-year old beauty pagent contestant, or three ongoing investigations by the 'weaponized' Ministry of Justice for his role in instigatng the bombing of the Government Complex in Acrpolis, on Necromunda, the Temple in Deplhi, on Palestinia, and the Alliance Children's Hospital on Atlantis, bombings which claimed the lives of 16,800 souls, including 7,000 children.”

“Frakker,” Baltar heard his fellow Cylon, Saul Tigh, growl.

The aged Cylon sighed, feeling all his years, in spite of the nanotechnology which kept Baltar looking relatively young...all three acts of terror had happened on his watch, with the massacre of innocent children, all those equally innocent healers being the worst, and weighing the most heavily on Baltar's conscience.

Zarek had been proudest of that, same as the thirty percent of the Tribes who put him forward as their standard bearer, following the end of the War, and the Monothiest Purge by the Adar Administration which had only driven the small, harrd core of true believers underground, and had resukted in his recall in 43M2, and over fourteen years of hell for then-Senate Speaker Baltar, serving out the last two years of Adar's term as acting President, before, to his sorprise, defeating the opposition candidate, retired Warmaster Marcus Antonius Sulla, in a close election.

“Those were peaceful protests,” Adama sneered,” according to Zarek and his MAMSPA goons, legitimate forms of free speech and free expression...questioning the Archon and Republicsn Guard raid on a separtist religious cult compound in the Necromundan Wastelands, the persecution of Monothiests by the government—”

Agathon replied with a snort, telling Baltar,”I'm sorry, sir, but you bent over backwards licking rancid Monothiest ass, after ending the Purge and abolishing the camps.”

“And the alternative, Captain?!” Baltar sharply demanded, Agarhon answering him with silence.

That was fine.

Baltar himself had no answer for that question.

“'—medical experiments,' “ Adama continued, a tear running down the old Palestinian's leathery face, as he forced himself yo speak,”on children, to change their gender and their species, to take away their humanity, and make them Cylons....”

“You ever seen a body broken by blast and overpressure?” he asked.”The Gods were merciful enough that many of those murdered by the hasatannium device which destroyed the Children's Hospital back in 55 had been atomized...but...not alll...she couldn't have been more than twenty...found out later she had a kid, was working her way through med school holding down two , three different jobs, including that one...”

“Bill,” Tigh gently said, putting a hand on Adama's shoulder, Adama,, lowering his eyes, continuing:

“She was lying in a pool of blood and shit, her intestines all over the frakking floor, her last seconds in this world spent worrying about her son.”

“My Gods,” Laura interjected.

“Zarek,” Adama, his voice taking on an angry tone,”in one of his live casts, had the frakking gall to equate her to Yussef Betanyahu,” one of the infamous so-clled doctors visting hell and death on the inmates---not all of whom had been Cylon—in the Monothiest internment camps during the war,”and, of course, all his followers started doing so as well.”

Galactica had been in Atlantis orbit that horrible day in 55M2, her medicae personnel the first ti offer help.

“I'm sorry,” Balat whispered, eyes on Adama, a war hero who could broken by a young woman whose passage to Elysium had been so indescribably ugly.

“So say us all, Gaius,” Adama whispered in reply as Human looked Cylon in the eye.

“So say us all.”

16 SEPTEMBER, 2056
04:08:11

The one constant, Kim silently observed,across all the universes, is man's ingumanity to his fellow man.

None of what her fellow sentients had said shocked her, because this was what the thirty-nine year old North American Interstellar Fleet officer had been fighting against her entire adult life.

What her Marines, long after the battle itself had ended, continued fighting on the various derelict enemy warships.

“When Zarek, who'd lost the popular vote,” Laura, who'd once again taken up the narrative, said,”but had a supepmajority in the Council of Electors, took power, he ended all the ongoing investigations by savking the entire Ministry of Justice, and filling top to bottom with his carefully vetted footsoldiers.”

“The Monothiests,” Baltar said,”had everyone concerned with Agenda 45, and snuck Agenda 63 past them...every Alliance bueraucrat found himself right out of a job, with plenty of MAMSPA fsnatics willing and eager to take their places.”

“The tribunal which convicted Zarek,” Laura said, while Kim listened to reports streaming into her BCI,”found themselves the targets of a newly-reconstited Ministry of Justice, as well as the Ministry of the Exchequer's Tax Division, and, after their arrest, they found themselves convicted in perfect fair trial by Arbites appointed by Zarek and confirmed by his Senate, and tribunals of patriotic citizens....all legal and aboveboard.

The God smiled upon them, by comparison, as the vigilance committees took up the burden of prosecuting 'Cylon sleeper agents' and 'radical Left domestic terrorists,' often disrupting legitimately peaceful protests and turning them into violent riots which were then blamed by the media and the Net on the peaceful protesters.”

“And, from there,” Kim's twin in this time and place said,”everything went straight to the frakking Warp.”
“Schools were xriminalized,” the President-elect of the Tribes said,”immediately followed by healthcare—anyone who knew so much as how to bandage a skinned knee fell foul of the vigilance committes—then the Senate outlawed scientific and technological research not approved by the newly-established Council on Religious Liberty, which, naturally, was stacked with Monothiests, making the practice pf 'the false religion of Scientism' a matter for patriots to resolve.

In particular, all reaerch into the origins of the universe and life itself were now forbidden, with the belief that the Emperorr of Mankind, from the Warp, created the world in six twenty-four hour days, men from dust and women from--”

She blushed, Kara Thrace fsaying:

“From the Emperor, umm, manipulating men's, ermm, members.”

“Their Scripture,” Jurgen remarked,”says 'from their ribs came Woman, Mother of Perversions and vAbominations of the World.'”

“Isn't that enlighyrned?!” Kim found herself snarking, Jurgrn replying,”both our dominant religions have been bodged together over the past eight thousand years from the religion of the High Lords, and from whatever beliefs our ancestors brought with them to Kobol; honestly, it's quite the frakking miracle they're both as consistent as they are.”

“Anyway,” Jurgen then said, as Kim smirked,” the word 'rib,' is an ancient euphemishm for an erect penis; it's no longer in common usage.”

“I see,” Kim said.

“The upper one percent of society,” said Baltar,”loved the new government, at first, as it cut their taxes to almost nothing, while shifting that burden entirely on the lowest fifty percent of our people, many of whom were working long hours of drudgery just to stay broke.

Also, the new government bureaycracy, while loyal doctrinaires, were not as adroit in actually running things. Even in the private sector, the emphasis gradually shifted from good corporate governance to whatever was ideologically correct...something we were often accused of by the Monos, strangely enough.”

Kim snorted.

“Projection is a favorite human pastime in any time and place, it seems,” she observed.

“The economy bottomed out,” Laura said,”unemployment spiked, food and other basics were in short supply and high demand, which meant prices were correspondingly high...we even started running out of microchips, which had a crippling impact on manufacturing everything from coffeemakers to battlestars, and what was being manufactured had a hard time going to where it needed to go.”

“And,” said Baltar,”into that mess, at the beginning of 68M2, came the Angel of Death, as the pandemic was dubbed by those not holding to the belief it was all fake.”

“We traced it to Orion traders,” Laura said,”bring in goods from beyond the Red Line; all trade was immediately shut down; Warp, even, if it wasn;t thr Ministry of Tranpotation's inspectors, the few that remained after the latest round of budget cuts, couldn't be trusted to do their jobs properly anyway.

The closure of trade made the economy worse, as the knock-on effects from closing ourselves off to foreign trade wrought havoc, and, with no healthcare, vaccines, or scientific research being allowed, the most basic prevenative efforts bittrly opposed by Monothiests, the vigilance committees, and the Net, the media, and the government, the Angel of Death would go on to claim more lives than the war had.”

“Then, there were the conspiracy theories,” said Jurgen, Tigh simply saying,”Gods,” in reply.

“Zarek loved promoting cobspitacies,” Agathon remarked.”In fact, that seemed to be the one thing those Monothiestic frak were capable of doing well “

Much like the League, Kim mused,when COVID, in the 2020s, maade the Spanish flu pandemic which brought down the old United States look like the common cold.

It had been the Allies who'd come up with the series of vaccines to combat the coronavirus disease, and the League, its motley crew of patriots, in particular, who called the vax poison, and the scientists and reaserchers who'd eeveloped them Nazis nd Doctor Mengeles, ultimately, after the Reb and Dezzie Presidential elections had resulted in violent autocoups, shattering the ceasefire between the Allied Powers and the League of Mar a Lago which had put a stop to the war resulting from the Reb r-bombin g of Manhattan on 9/11.

“--lost the poular and electoral vote,” Cain had finally spoken up,”lost the Senate entirely, and, Gods, you should've heard Zarek and his followers bitch,[/u] and, the show they put on trying to convince the rest of us that we really didn't elect Roslin and Baltar in a landslide, that they didn't secure the electoral voyes of all twelve worlds, that the Cylons, the Xenos and the elites had all resorted to cyber-warfatre--”

“The Hybrids running our elections aren't connected to the Net,” Baltar commented.

“Of course they weren't,” said Kom,”but that didn't stop Zarek and his followers from claiming the Hybrids were hacked, evn after countless investigations and manual audits.”

Caun smiled.

“No, it didn't,” he said, sighing.”In fact, every proof of their claims being false was, to the MAMSPA true believers, further proofs their claims were true. Seventy court cases later, Zarek is standing before the Grand Arbites, arguing his case before what everyone, including him, believed was a symparheric audience—six of the Grand Arbitrators, including the Lord High Arbitrator, were his appointees, after all—only, for them, three weeks ago, to rule unanimously that he hadn't a leg to stand on.”

“From there,” he added,”the storming of the Forum, and the bombing of Athens, and, here we are, three weeks later.”

“Repeating history,” Kim remarked, Adama, in his gravelly voice, saying:

”'Whar has happened, will happen again.'”

“So say us all,” he quietly added.
"For Holy People, however it runs
Endeth always Wholly Slave."
--Rudyard Kipling, "McDonough's Song"

"The enemy is fear. The enemy is ignorance. The enemy is the one who says you must hate that which is different.
For, in the end,that hate will turn on you. And, that same hate will destroy you."
--Reverend Will Dexter, Babylon 5, "And, the Rock Cried Out 'No Hiding Place.'"
Because, in the end, Nex Benedict was one of us.
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Re: Those Who Lift Each Other

Post by WillDexter »

04)The Pythian Prophecy

16 SEPTEMBER, Y169
06:17:58

“--only the Left projects,” Corin “Straight Shooter” Daly insisted on one of the floor to ceiling, wall to wall holoviewers in a replica of the Panopticon od his former homeland's Temple,”accusing us of domestic terrorism, when they riot, loot, murder law enforcement, attack and terrorize decent, hard-working Terrans who are only trying to make an honest living.”

“That leaves our libs by definition,” Dean “Tech Sergant” Jarrett snarked, while, in the backhround, Harlem burned, as spoiled little babies bitching about there being no food on the shelves were disciplined, black-bagged, and beamed into the cargo holds of a never-ending stream of Slaver transports bound for the markets in the Orion enclave.

“--been to New York,” Alexander “Rex Mundi” Kirk commented.”Didn't see what was so great about, bums everywhere, trash in the fucking street, gangs od illegal alien immigrants and foreign scum terrorizing decent people, while the NYPD sat with their thumbs up their asses, and let it happen.”

To be honest, Tarsos had lived in New York, when he'd first come to this reality fifty years ago; it hadn't been that bad, streets were clean, most of the homeless re-housed or otherwise taken care of, crime was almost non-existent.

Neverthless, Tarsos had endured, til he'd met a fellow exile, from still another reality, and his return to his former glory had well and truly begun,

“---were locked behind transparent duranium,” Rex Mundi continued,”and it took me the better part of a day, riding on the incompently-run, socialist effing joke of a public transportation network--”

Tarsos had fond memories of New York's public transit system, of how it reached everywhere in the eight botoughs, was very efficently run, virtually free, clean, and safe.

Least til he'd used the hidden recesses of its subway system to pursue the family trade, and make quite a handsome living selling the finest leather goods in the Alpha Octant.

Besides, little big girls needed to learn that Big Bad Wolves were real, and the woods belonged to them.

“--the one store,” said Rex Mundi,”in all the eight boroughs, that sold Caffiene Madness Cola, some shithole in the wall dump in Paterson, and I had to wait two freakin' hours, for the fat fuckin' Ando excuse for a manager--”

“Diversity and inclusion programs are gonna be the death of us,”said Sean Gennari III.”Mark my words.”

“---with the key to unlock the one six-pack of twelve-ounce cans,” Rex Mundi said,”that was in stock--”

“Socialism's no way to run an economy,” A Call For an Uprising sagely observed, before Tarsos turned his attention to the JMOB Pioneer under the command of his brother Smithsonians, pull up stake, and leave the Caprakios system, the megastructure, the now seven fleets embarked within, and its million now on vector for the Ragnar system, due to arrive there sometime in the next seven hours at max av.

Aside from the North American scouting force of light and heavy cruisers, sutai Mo'kai's data indicated there were less than a thousand battlestars, of varying tonnages and material conditions under the command of the rebel Admiral Cain—roughly half the Alliance Fleet—with the recent fighting seeing the destruction of forty battlestars of one of the rebel battle groups, with another fifty damaged beyond any hope of economic repair, with even the survivors requiring some time to make their damage good.

More thsn sufficent force to destroy them, and to secure the artifact at the core of Ragnar I that would grant him access to other realities and potential other allies.

And, a way to make all realities in his image, his likeness, as he achieved his revenge to stand alone in the end.

“--fake plandemic,” Straight Shooter remarked, the Rex Mundi Show now showing patriots dragging a balding Klingon man from a store in Northbridhe, on Gollywog, being looted by patriots, other patriots ripping the mask from his face, before kicking the shit out of him all at once.

“--even if the nanovirus wasn't BS,” Vulcan Skeptic commented,” it has been proven, in thousands of studies by reputable scientist, that masks don't work.

“They're a crime against humanity,” Peacemaker Marcel, of the Family Bisset said,”as RealLondon dot TV has already said; it's been conclusive proven that wearing masks increases the amount of carbon dioxide, while cutting off the supply of oxygen, which causes brain damage, especially in children.”

”The thing that hath been is that which shall be,” Tarsos mentally reciting that passage from the Smithsonian Bible, as he saw still more patriots helping themselves to the hyfro in the store's gas pumps, as the Klingon, now pulp, continued being kicked and stomped on.”And, the thing that hath been done is that which shall be done, and there is no new thing under the sun.”

“Where would we be,” Tarsos asked himself out loud,”if it were any other way?”

On the holoviewer, one of many in his personal Panopticon, the store burst into flame, as the Klingon, now hardly recognizable as a Klingon, lay in a pool of his own blood, brains and shit, the patriots who'd killed him now joining their fellows in taking what they wanted from his business.

“Typical left-wing behavior,” DJ Skeptic commented in the Rex Mundi Show's live chat.”And, they have the balls to call us domestic terrorists.”

“Left always projects,” Straight Shooter repeated himself.

16 SEPTEMBER, 2056
06:22:16

In the wardroom of the 380,000-ton Alaska-class starship of the line, NAS Rio Grande, Vice Admiral Miyazaki Yukari, commanding the North American Mobile Strike Fleet, studied Enterprise's continous tactical transmission with growing horror.

Bad enough the League, the Russies, the Terries and their Orion allies had pushed halfway across the Sagittarius Dwarf Galaxy, that they'd made inroads in the Alliance of three binary system that were on the other side of a particularly intense belt of van Allen radiation to rimward.

The prospect of still another Vo'kun portal waiting to bring in more death and hell from still other realities...

And, the enemy knew about about it; an RCN scouting group had confirmed as much, when their reconaissance of the Caprikos system revealed Pioner, one of two League JMOBs operating in the space the Feds had designated the WYN Star Cluster, had pulled up stakes, recalled all its embarked fleets, and were suspected to be vectoring toward the Ragnar system, max av.

She massaged her temple, took a sip of hibiscus tea, studied all the holoprojs floating over the wardroom's coffee table.

The Mobile Strike Fleet, along with the remnants of the Federation Fourth, Klingon Red and Northern, Hydran Expiditionary, the Royal Celestial Navy's 4th, the French Imperial 3rd , the Jpanese 2nd , and the Soviet 7th Strategic Space Fleets, were all based over Adamant, home of a mining, terraforming, and manufacturing conglomerate of the same name, the megacorp itself having a substansial fleet, itself part of the Rimward Trade Association's own combined starfleet, at the core of which was the Flight.

And, they were barely holding back the enemy's onslaught, two JMOBs, ten League fleets, twice as many Russie fleets, and nearly a dozen Terran and allied fleets, with a long-established infrastructure in a resource-rich region of space, in addition to the von Neumann machines which were the two 750-megaton JMOBs.

Now, the situation demanded Yukari's immediate attention, the diversion of badly-needed forces to secure Ragnar and its Vo'kum portal.

And, she couldn't even match tge strength the enemy was sending there.

Hell, right now, her forces couldn't even find Pioneer, as even a 730 million metric ton Joint Mobile Operations Base that radiated electromagnetic spectrum information like a stellar nursery was still a very small speck in a very big dark, even given a probable vector through space.

Even if her ships could find the JMOB, bringing such a beast to battle, and destroying meant heavy casualties, given its orgnic interceptor, drone, heavy fighter, and main-battery capacity, before taking its 7,200+(as the platform had doubtlessly constructed more) embarked warships into account.

Still, she had to send something to counter the enemy JMOB, and secure Ragnar.

But whom, aside from her own 1,440 starliners, armored and light cruisers?

She studied the fleet rosters carefully, weighing the possibilities, seeing who was close to whole enough to be diverted.

The Anglo-Swedish fleet, obviously; they were almost back up to full strength, with new construction in the Adamantite yards, reinforcements from home, and loans from the Trade Association's combined fleet.

Via BCI, she sent the appropriate orders to Vice Admiral Sir Gordon Applewhite, aboard HMS King Charles III Gustav, before returning to her study bof the fleet roster.

The Feds, Klingons, and Hydrans had merged into a single fleet of neatly 1,200 ships, under Fleet Admiral Phillipa Georgiou, and, somehow, that had worked out.

Them as well; next to the two Allied fleets, the Federation-Klingon-Hydran 1st Composite Feet had the most combat ecperience in theater, and both Georgiou and her Kling second in command, Vice Admiral Ardak Kumerian, were capable commanders.

She cut the orders, sending a copy of them to Georgiou, aboard the USS Star Tiger, and Kumerian, aboard the IKV Danger Stalker.

That done, Yukari sighed again, as she sipped her tea.

It wouldn't be enough, but, it had to be.

Finishing her tea, she rose from the sofa, stretched herself, then stepped through the hatchway communicating with CIC.

“Radio,” she said to Radioman 3C Mary Derst,”send to all ships, Mobile Strike Fleet, RCN 4th Fleet, 1st Composite Fleet:'Prepare to get underway, vector for the Ragnar system, max av.'

To Commander Delia Calder, at Rio Grande's helm, she said,”XO, sound General Quarters.”

She then took her place at the center of the starliner's command deck, and watched her crew comply with her orders.

16 SEPTEMBER,Y169
06:30:04

'--the utter brass of these bloody Progs," Geocentric Sky Watcher remarked."They know that we know they rig elections, yet they present this pantomime, this farce, and just expect people to go along with it. They actually expect us to treat this so-called election as a legitimate expression of the people of Gollywog, when anyone can just ask a Wog, and find out they want nothin' to do with any of that independence bollocks."

Outside the Government Building in Valentine, on Sinclair, dersively called Gollywog by outsiders, a crowd gathered, many waving signs about, most holding banned Lion and Sunburst ensigns, a couple holding gigantic representations of the City Of Valentine's former flag, back when it had been under Rothschild corporate rule.

All of them singing, mainly in the key of off, as still more people joined them.

More still thronged the Four Bridges coming into the City, off in the distance, immobilizing traffic, as the general strike had immobilized the planet in the week following Anthony Riley III, Terran Governor of Sinclair and its associated worlds by both Divine and Imperial Grace, had refused to even dignify the referendum hoax, and forward the ridiculous request of a ridiculous left-wing minority for independence to New York.

"--Marxist corporate tyranny," Brilliant Ork said in Riley's BCI, as, outside, still more chavs, bone-idle toe rags, layabouts, and other lower life forms continued filling the square just outside the Government Building, more Lions and Sunbursts Sunbursts in evidence, as the bigots and racists sang songs about there always being a Sinclair, and Sinclair would be free.

Bollocks, Riley sniffed contemptuously.

Sinclair, before the salvation that was true Human rule had come, had always corporate tyranny by Orions, by Rothschilds, by woke, socialist, galactivist elites, and, with it, and its royal parasites gone, those spoiled, entitled little shits out there truly [o]were[/i] free.

Though real Terran Humans were more free than they were, had to be, for the Human race were the law, with the rest, being slaves and bootlickers, needing to have their freedoms restricted and, some would say, harshly regulated, for they had not accepted Christ Jesus as their Lord and Savior, would never truly understand what that meant, even if they said they accepted Him and His blood sacrifice on the Cross 2,569 years ago, and, thus, remained in a fallen, degenerate state.

Fallen degenerates being allowed full rights and freedoms only ended in tears, both Textus Receptus and the historical record bore that out.

"--even voted," DanPrat4thePeople remarked." The Progs and the Cabal were even offering free money, free food, free drugs, all the things which worked for them back in the days of They/Them, woke Rothschild corporate tyranny, only to find out this was the Terran Dominion now, and people weren't falling for their Marxist bullshit anymore "

"They had to make up fake election results," remarked the Great Professor Toto, "then spread disinfo, like Progs always do, about the awesome response they had."

"What ya expect, mates?" IM Storm remarked."Painfully fuckin' obvious no one on Gollywog wants independence, just fuckin' obvious."

"And, yet,' Hip Hop.Hippie observed,"they managed to put boots on the ground and shut Gollywog down."

"All professional protesters, ex-cons," Professor Toto remarked," fat, radical alien lesbians, brainwashed, soy-fed, vaccinated SJWs, and homeless bums, all hired by Alec Soros and the Rothschilds, then brought to Gollywog by the boatload."

"Yes?" Riley asked, as his chief of staff, Selwyn Carter, entered the office.

"Sir," Carter replied, without preamble,"freedom convoys have just beamed and gated into Valentine and the Four Bridges, and more transports are in standard orbit, offloading additional patriots from throughout Terran space to deal with the situation."

As, just outside, a squad of Imperial Guardsmen began raising the Terran Flag, an eagle atop the sword imapling Earth from pole to pole on a blue union against a field of thirteen red and white stripes, as a mighty chorus drowned out the fascist bollocks of Sinclair prevailing against all odds with a hearty rendition of "God Bless the Human Race," the governor of Sinclair looking back out the window of his office to see a truly beautiful sight indeed.

Patriots.

Patriots, from all walks of life, all proudly displaying their Second Amendment rights, all singing, as they advanced on the harlot, the sodomite, the breeder, the fornicator, the slave, the tyrant, and the bootlicker, and proceeded, at once, to punish its arrogant presumption of being entitled to anything as precious as sovereignty and freedom.
"For Holy People, however it runs
Endeth always Wholly Slave."
--Rudyard Kipling, "McDonough's Song"

"The enemy is fear. The enemy is ignorance. The enemy is the one who says you must hate that which is different.
For, in the end,that hate will turn on you. And, that same hate will destroy you."
--Reverend Will Dexter, Babylon 5, "And, the Rock Cried Out 'No Hiding Place.'"
Because, in the end, Nex Benedict was one of us.
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WillDexter
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Re: Those Who Lift Each Other

Post by WillDexter »

259-69M3
06:35:20

“--something so gross,” Balthazar Krais pontificated in live, streaming video,”like schools putting litterboxes in classrooms for the children programmed by the Cylons, the Polythiests, and the Great Foulness that controls them all into believing they're frakking cats?!

In the background behind the Redeemptionist Monothiest chaplin, a massive viewslate showing patriots dragging perverts, deviants, and sexually-confused freaks to one of the deliverance centers in Acropolis, on Necromunda, centers now legalized and made part of the new Alliance by Zarek almost immediately after he'd seized the mandate from the Emperor to be President for life, Emperor be praised.

“Do you all now understand?!” Krais thundered down from his golden pulpit, adorned with the skulls of those Redeemptionists who'd died in service to His Divine Majesty.”Do you understand why we had to close all the schools, even the so-called religious ones?! Why we had to destroy all the universities, all the places where false doctrine, Scientism, and knowledge, falsely so-called, were kept?!

It is because these places were the strongholds of the Ruinous Powers, of demonoc posession andd oppression! Places where demons disguised as human groomed our young ones, turned them out, made them hate their humanity, hate their country, hate the Emperor who made them and all Mankind, made them identify as Cylons, as Xenos, as girls, as homosexual, made them want to mutilate themselves, chip themselves, upload themselves into the bodies of Servitors and help them and their Chaotic masters replaace us with them!”

The soroitas assigned to this particular center moved the lined of collared, chained, hooded, and marked sinners along with baebed whips in leather gloved hands, the collars, wired directly into their tiny little brains, and possessing none of the hardcoded safeguards which prevented brain hacking, reminding the degenerate freaks constantly that they were degnerate freaks who should never, ever have been allowed to think, for a momeny, that they should be proud of themselves.

Emperor be praised.

What was playing on the slate behind Krais played in front of his right eye, compliments of the commun Greystoke Cybernetics had first pioneered in the late forties, Krais pausing his sermon to drink a glass of what his congregation believed was ice water, and watched the goings-on.

“We,” he said, resuming his sermon,”are gonna round up all these sick fraks, all these uppity Servitors, herd them into deliverance centers throughout our Twelve Worlds, and with the Emperor at our side, we are going to cast out the demons, and send them howling and defeated, for all times, back to the Warp which spawned them, praise the God Emperor of Mankind!

”For we walk in His Immortal Shadow!l” the over twenty thousand souls in his temple, and the millions watching this online, all replied in a single, thunderous voice.

”'And, His Immortal Light,'” Krais softly said, ”'shines in our eyes,'”

16 SEPTEMBER, 2056
06:50:02


“Kill all power,” Celestial Legion Starship Pioneer's ops boss, Rear Admiral Thomas Stephens ordered for the yenth or fifteenth time, since the 750-megaton Joint Movile Operations Base had left the Caprakios system on vector for Ragnar.

Vice Admiral Dylann Hunt could only stand there, at the center of the platform's coldlamp-lit CIC, and grind his teeth in frustration, as, again, Pioneer]/i] his from its enemies, and lick its wounds.

In particular, it sought refuge in an unnamed brown dwarf system somewhere rimward of Caprakios, after the Laamanite scouting group dogging its heels had once again sniffed out its trail, and vectored Rimward warships in for the attack.

Pioneer[//i] now boasted seven fleets of warships, 12,000 F-16G Viper heavy fighters, 36,000 QF-20 Sacrab combat drones, 525 quad-turreted 18” accelerators, seven and a half million interceptor batteries, and, ten corps of troops.

Yet, as this war had demonstrated, time and again, even such a platform could be destroyed, if the enemy were willing to spend the warships and lives to accomplish this, and Laamanites, regardless of time and place, were more than willing to do precisely that.

“Engineering, Combat,” Stephens ordered,”effect repairs, and be quick about it.”

“Deploy all mining and processing platform,” he then ordered.”Deploy CAP and drone screen.”

“Mining and processing platforms deployed,” Pioneer's CAG, a hulking, brindle-furred Kzinti, Commodore Cat Of Demons Born. Almost purred.”CAP fighters and drone screen deployed.”

“All active sensors offline,” a watchstander reported.”Passive sensors only.”

“Comms offline,” another watchstander reported.”Engineering estimates four hour, til all damage has been repaired, if work is done on the heat-damaged nacelles, two and a half hours, if no work is done on those.”

“And, if we dedicate industrial capacity and replicator feedstock to replacing the destroyed nacelles?” Hunt demanded, the watchstander, a third class battlespace manager, taking his time to reply,”eight hours, Admiral.”

“Admiral,” Stephens said,”we can't risk staying here that long, not with the Laamanites hunting us so aggressively.”

“We can't afford to carry out our mission with this platform in a less than perfect state,” Hunt answered his operations manager.”Tell Engineering I want all damage repaired, ASAP.”

“Aye, sir,” Stephens replied, relaying his instructions to Engineering via BCI.

Hunt then shivered, as the temp in CIC started falling, with the life support system taken offline to minimize Pioneer's electromagnetic signature even further.

Deploying the platforms, the CAP and the drone screen were all risks, acceptible ones, even necessary ones, yes, but risks all the same, for even this system's obscurity and the Outer Darkness itself were not enough to hide Pioneer for long against determined hunters, and deployment of the combat air patrol and the drone screen to give the JMOB eyes and ears, and the mining and processing platforms to harvest the system for the raw material to fix Pioneer and to replace replicator feedstock lost, when that part of the platform had been breached by an attenuated Rimward MAHEM beam9full strength, the 27” jet of molten metal propelled at near-light speed would've burned Pioneer from the Darkness), both these things only increased the chance the JMOB would be detected, and, once detected, destroyed.

Naturally, Pioneer would not die alone, when caught and forced to fight, but, it would die, before it had a chance to carry out its mission, and that failure would be weighed against everyone on board by the Celestial Throne, increasing the likelihood even Hunt, with a proud lineage going all the way back to Porter Rockwell himself, would be condemned to second death as one of them, instead of being resurrected to continue the fight, until all Laamanaites had been cleansed from all realities, putting an end to his exile.

His Dom liason officer, Rear Admiral Jakob Bundy, then suggested,”if we could power up the comm system just long enough to transmit a burst to the Polk ask--”

“No,” Hunt decided, his tone making it clear he would entertain no further suggestion he go begging to the Reb JMOB or MacKenzie-Calhoun for help.

“As an operative of the Office of Domestic Tranquility, Admiral,” Hunt then reminded Bundy,”you should know that even implying His Celestial Priesthood are, in any, way, inadequate, is heresy, punishable by second death as one of them.”

“In any case,” Stephens said,”it's out of the question; the Leonidas Polk's currently in the White Light system, assigned to supporting Terran authorities in suppressing the insurrection on Gollywog.”

16 SEPTEMBER,Y169
06:56:51

“---litterboxes in their bathrooms, for those kids who identify ss Lyrans, Kzinti, Caitians or Kroimeeka,” the Great Professor Toto nattered on in the background, while Brittany Andersen placed a cold compress on the forehead of a humanoid Kroimeekor girl, about six, maybee seven Human years, her hair, orange and white, and running down to the small of her back, matted and tangled, as she writhed fecerishly on the sleeping mat in the catacombs underneath the ruins of Sinclair House in Valentine.

“--wonder why aliens,” Toto continued gassing off on the Terran version of YouTube,”simply cannot govern themselves, and require the adult supervision only their Terran masters, cast in the image of Almighty God, can provide them.”

“Sall right, baby,” Brittany lied, as she tried to calm the fitfully-sleeping child down, before she popped the collagen sutures criss-crossing her mottled orange, whiye and black skin...bastards had smashed their way into the restaurant she'd been waiting tables in, and...had their fun with her, before leaving her for dead, Brittany and other Resisters finding her lying in a pool of blood, froth, and shit, her little body mutilated, organs ruptured from blunt force trauma, the 24-year old street medic and her fellow healers doing what they could for her surgically.

Too many others like her, now that patriots had been brought in from offworld to aid and abet those here in punishing Sinclair's people for expressing their will in the recent referendum, even knowing this exact outcome would tke place.

“--a study of the Leebyahian poulation,” Rex Mundi now said, as Brittany moved down the length of the underground passage, lit by bioluminesence and holoptojctions from medical monitors,”made by reputable Klingon scientists showed that ninety percet--ninety percent--of the planet's population suffered from diaasociative identity disorders, such as gender dysphoria, and delusuons they were other species, and these disorders were, in fact, congenital--”

Brittany brushed back the hair of a teenaged Naram girl from her forhead, as she slept, making sure the near-Human wasn't lying on her raven locks, at the same time she glanced at her vitals, confirming the medmonitor's readings with the medigauntlet on her left hand.

Naturally, she thought,these fucking Terrans would bring up Leebyahh to lend creedence to their hate.

From what she'd been told, that particular planet, in the former Klingon Neutralone, had been set aside by the Vo'kun, here often referred to as the Old Kings, as a loony bin where theire mentally-deranged subjects were free to live, work, play, go nuts, and not harm the greater Galaxy.

They probably had no idea that petty little assholes, 169 years after the last of them had been seen in this time and place, would use their descendants of the original Leebyahhians as fodder for their bigoted agenda.

Or, maybe, they did, she thought, shushing the Naram, as nigghtmares gripped her, stomping on the impulse to comb all that lovely hair.Hell, maybe they even used those inmates to further their own agenda, and, maybe, not all those committed there had been bughouse, at least, not in the beginning.

Too close to home, that thought, and Brittany tried suppressing it, as she moved to a Yazira with a busted arm.

In her time and place, his race were known as Haziri, an offshoot of the long-extinict Vo'kun, and they vied with the Klahrun for dominion, at the same time the League actively fought to subjugate and end them both.

The Yaziri of this time and place were one of eight races who had a thriving intersellar society in this part of the Sagittarius Dwarf Galaxy, before the Usurper, then the Orions, and various Klingon and Lyran renegades had subjugated them thirty years before the Terrans had come in, and taken over.

The Yazira, still a kid, growled irritably, as Brittany examined his broken right arm, then changed out the dressing, soaked with pus and clotting blue blood, on his left, disinfecting the deep wounds made by a monowire sword wielded by a patriot who'd taken offense at him being a winged, red-furred, blue-skinned, flying reptilian siminois allowed to roam the streets freely, the Yazira then wincing, and hissing, as Brittany next changed the dressing over his right eye, or, rather, the mess left behind by the monowire slashing across his face and almost to his brainpan.

More pus, humerus, and clotting blue blood, along with bits of cornea and iris, Brittany removing the suction from her medkit, vaccuming out all the ickies, before disinfecting the wound, and applying a fresh dressing; the overworked medical replicators were busy printing a new eye for him, at which point, he would go back under the knife to have the orbit cleaned out, and what remained of his right optic nerve spiced with the optice nerve of the replicated eye.

The Hazira, perhap a couple years younger than Brittany, understandably couldn't wait, demanding,”when will you replace my eye?!”

“Wish I knew, sweetpea,” Brittany answered honestly.”The other medics are just overwhelmed right now.”

“It's bad out there,” the Yazira commented.”The umanii are out in the millions, it seems, with more them beaming and gating in by the second...the whole city's burning, my jynvorii...

A portmantteau word, which, in this context, meant family or clan.

“I don't know,” Brittany conceded, as she finished examining him.”Hopefully they found shelter, if not with one of the other cells, then in one of the tent cit--”

“The umanii,” the Yazira reminded her,”are priortizing the tent cities in their attacks; the unhoused always seem to be their favorite sport.”

“Yeah,” Brittany conceded, for hunting the homeless for shits and giggles was a favorite patriot pastime in any time and place.

“Yeah,” she repeated.
"For Holy People, however it runs
Endeth always Wholly Slave."
--Rudyard Kipling, "McDonough's Song"

"The enemy is fear. The enemy is ignorance. The enemy is the one who says you must hate that which is different.
For, in the end,that hate will turn on you. And, that same hate will destroy you."
--Reverend Will Dexter, Babylon 5, "And, the Rock Cried Out 'No Hiding Place.'"
Because, in the end, Nex Benedict was one of us.
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WillDexter
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Re: Those Who Lift Each Other

Post by WillDexter »

16 SEPTEMBER,Y169
07:09:00

“--enemies in common, it seems,” Kim said to the Alliance officers and leaders.

“Which explains why we're here,” she concluded,”in this time and place. My scouting group were conducting a recon sweep, when we picked comm chatter coming from this system, and discovered a Russie battle group, or, rather, what Navarchs Thrace and Adama had left of one, was part of the forces engaging your ships and the refugees, they...”

Abruptly, she trailed off, the hairs on the back of her neck standing up just a moment, at the same time both Adama and Kara Thrace whispered “Fr--”

”..and, I heard, as it were, the noise of thunder. One of the four beast sang 'come, and see,' and I saw, and behold...”

“...what am I?!” she kept demanding of a figure walking away from her in a field somewhere, her dog tags in the paalm of her gloved...


”...Action Stations!. Set Condition One throughout the ship! Action Stations, Action Stations!” a woman's voice thundered over the speakers, as the whistling white light gave way to the buzzing, blood-ted lit officer's wardroom of the battlestar Flame of Purity, and a quantum tunnel formed directly in front of her, and Kim ran through it, and onto Enterprise's CIC, Draco running from the wardroom, asking for a sitrep at the same time as his Skipper.

“Quantum tunnels, won-tree-zera,” Starman 1C Giselle Brandt reported from the radar station, even as Ava slid down the ladder from the crew deck to relieve her,”in orbit, Ragnar I, closing Anchorage, won-six point eight kips, decelerating. Quantum tunnels, foah-zera-eight-zera, entering Ragnar system, plus won-five by two-tree, niner point foah teraklicks downrange, max av.”

“Inbounds entering system,”Yasmin reported,”squawking as Mobile Strike Fleet, RCN 4th Fleet, and First Composite Fleet, comprising various Fed, Klingon, and Hydran hulls. Inbounds closing us from Ragnar I orbit all unknown types, ranging from 380 to 950 kilotons.”

Andi had already moved them from the station, and boosting them toward intercept with the unnowns, also vaguely resembling ships from Battlestar America, when Draco took the helm, and she manned the weapons station.

Pegasus issuing hostile challenge,” Rhonda reported.

“Pipe the reply, if any, through to master holoproj,” Kim replied, as she took her seat, and buckled in.

“Reply coming through from one of the 950-kiloton hulls,” Rhonda said, before a black man, hair greying at the temples, beard almost fully grey said, as he stood amidst a burning wreck of a CIC.

“This is Admiral Avery Benedict, commanding 12th Battle Group of the National Fleet; am requesting asylum for myself, my officers and crews, and over one hundred thousand civilian refugees on board my ships.”

“We're being commed,” Rhonda then said,”by the Rio Grande.

Vice Admiral Miyazaki's image now floated in front of Kim's right eye, the middle-aged Japanese-American woman remarking,”everything interesting seems to find you, Kim.”

“Yeah,” Kim said, as IFF tags sprouted into being around the National Fleet starships of the line on the tactical holoproj,”it seems that way, Admiral.”

16 SEPTEMBER,2056
07:12:23

“Asylum is granted,” this Admiral Cain's holo said, as it floated six inches from Admiral Avery Benedict's right eye,” by order of the President of the Twelve Tribes. We ask that your crews remain aboard your vessels, pending further investigation, and that you join me aboard Pegasus at your earliest convenience. “

“Copy, and wilco,” Benedict replied, as Cain's holo winked out, the signalman reporting,”we've been clearance to dock.”

“Pass that on to the helm,” National Fleet Starship Mea Culpa's executive officer, Master Commandant Rance Haggerty, ordered, as a cool breeze from the ventilation system fanneed the fires burning all round CIC.

“Master Engineer,” Haggerty then said,”reports all radiators re-installed, internal temp 100 degrees, falling. All other damage under repair.”

Benedict nodded, eyes on charred corpses being removed from CIC by Mechanized Riflemen, more still seated at what used to be workstations, waiting their turn to be taken below.

“Civilian casualties?” he asked.

“We're still compiling that list, Admiral,” Haggerty replied, Benedict nodding in reply, as he held onto the plot table for support, the adrenaline sustaining him since the frenzied battle over Terra Nova starting to wear off, and leaving feeling the full weight of all he's done.

All he'd done, in all the years he'd served the Thirteen and Freeman Lang.

He'd certainly done all he could to erect the throne on which Lang now sat, after the People, the true People, had rejected his bid for the First Presidency in favor of a Laamanite.

A quantum tunnel shimmered into being in front of Benedict.

“This Cain doesn't waste any time, does he?” Haggerty observed.

“No, Master Commandant,” Benedict answered,”he doesn't.”

“Ship is yours,” he added, before stepping through.

289-69M2
07:15:40

“Where the actual frak did you come from,” Cain demanded bluntly, as this Admiral Benedict teleported onto Pegasus' CIC,”and why did the Emperor's Light see fit to wash you up on our shore?!”

“We were chased to the fourth planet of a star system called 46552 Leonis,” Benedict, his hreen utilities stained with evaporated sweat, answered,”by forces loyal to Freeman I, anointed King of God, following his seizure of power in what had been the Thirteen Nations of Man.

Our ships entered orbit, and the artifact on the planet's surface sent us here...wherever here is.”

“You,” Jurgen said,” are in the Ragnar system, orbiting its first planet, at the frontier of the Alliance of the Twelve Tribes of Palestina.”

Uncharacteristically, the Cylon then blushed, sheepishly adding,”unfortunately, the Tribes aren't exactly allied at the moment.”

“It seems,” he remarked,”we're in similar straits, Admiral.”

“It seems that way,” Benedict replied,”yes.”

A primus from the battlestar's medicae staff ran her medigauntlet over Benedict, nefore injecting something in his upper right arm with a pneumatic hypodermic.

“A vaccine cocktail,” she explained,”against diseases you have no immunity to, including the Angel of Death...that's the popular term for what the medical community, what's left of us, call NANVID-68, for nanovirus disease, 68M2.”

Benedict merely nodded acceptance, and thanked the medicae officer, as she gave him another going over with her medigauntlet, the left the command deck.
"For Holy People, however it runs
Endeth always Wholly Slave."
--Rudyard Kipling, "McDonough's Song"

"The enemy is fear. The enemy is ignorance. The enemy is the one who says you must hate that which is different.
For, in the end,that hate will turn on you. And, that same hate will destroy you."
--Reverend Will Dexter, Babylon 5, "And, the Rock Cried Out 'No Hiding Place.'"
Because, in the end, Nex Benedict was one of us.
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