Opinion

Friends In High Places shows The Official Traveller Universe from the Rosenkranz and Guildenstern point of view.

Friends In High Places

 

Personal History

I once wrote Princess Diana into a piece of Traveller fan fiction.

https://freelancetraveller.com/features/stories/fihp/fihp13.html
 

Changes

In a sixth grade classroom in the village of Pammunjong of the United Republic of Korea a teacher spoke.

"There were once people who were once concerned about Global Warming.  But the industrial and other Carbon Dioxide emissions weren't enough to stop the coming of the next Ice Age."

Although the current lesson covered the new Ice Age, the previous day’s lesson covered the political unification of the Korean peninsula.  A videotape of Kim Jong Un being hanged for his numerous crimes was shown.  Tomorrow’s lesson would cover the hunt for Democrat and former Governor of Minnesota Tim Walz by the Federation Security Service.  American Democrats were treated as enemies of Humanity.  The prohibition of public employee unions by the Federation was a sore point for the teacher.  The abuses of the teacher’s unions was still a sore point in the former United States.  The new world map in the classroom showed the nations of Canada, Russia, and Finland, completely covered in ice.  The new map showed new lands and a chain of lakes where the Baltic Sea was.  The new map also showed the construction of the new Kennedy Launch Center as well as the new American capitol city of Columbia in what was part of the Oklahoma panhandle.  The new map also showed radioactive zones around the former cities of Mecca and Medina as well as in the former nation of Pakistan.

The teacher spoke again.

“Once we’re finished with today’s lesson we’ll retire to the schools firing range.”

 

Incarnations, Part Two

 As the three walked into the house Alex spoke.

“Something happened on Earth and you had to cut the visit short?”

“Yes.”     Evelyn replied.

“What happened?”  Asked Alex.

“I committed a sin.”  Said Evelyn.

“Sin is a mystical concept and is therefore invalid.”

Evelyn thought for a moment.  He then replied.

“I didn’t live up to the rational ethical standard.”

“What did you do wrong?”  Asked Alex.

Evelyn answered.

“If there was one thing I should’ve recalled from the memories I received from you, it’s that I should never give an evil man a break.”

“You did?”  Asked Alex.

“Yes, I did.”  Said Evelyn.  “And because I did an innocent girl was murdered right before my eyes.”

Both Alex and Diana stopped in the hall.

Alex spoke.

“Should we sit down?”

“Yes.”  Said Evelyn.

Alex led Evelyn and Diana into a sitting room.  The large picture window of the room overlooked a small lake on the Charon family estate.

When all three were seated Alex spoke.

“Now, what happened?”

Evelyn paused before answering.

“I went down to Minneapolis, just to see what the place was like now.”

“Is the Uptown Theater still there?”  Alex asked.

“Yes,” said Evelyn, “and they’re still running The Rocky Horror Picture Show.”

“Really?”  Said Alex.

“Yes, only once a year now, in the holographic format.”

Diana asked a question.

“What’s The Rocky Horror Picture Show?”

Alex answered.

“It’s a deconstruction of Mary Shelley’s novel Frankenstein as written by a follower of Herbert Marcuse.”

“Now I’m more confused.”  Said Diana.

“Which was the entire point of the film.”  Said Evelyn.
 
Alex nodded, Evelyn continued.

“But that wasn’t the fundamental problem.”  He said.  “The Chairman of the Grande-Sinjoro Corporation made several requests for a meeting with me in person in at their headquarters in the city of Chicago.  I gave a negative reply to the first message and ignored the subsequent notes.”

“He didn’t understand your response?”  Said Alex.

“No.”  Evelyn replied.  “He didn’t.  ‘No,’ is such a simple concept.  And he wasn’t the only one.  The concierge at the New Millennium Hotel couldn’t believe that I wanted nothing to do with that piece of garbage and offered to set up the meeting anyway.  So I changed hotels.”
   
Alex and Diana remained silent.

“I come back to the second hotel after a short tour of Nordeast Minneapolis, and there’s the piece of garbage, appearing in the center of the suite as if he was the senior senator from New York, he was acting as if he owned the place.”  Said Evelyn.  “He had a male flunky with him and a gift.”

“A gift?”  Said Alex.

“He likely thought of her as such.”  Evelyn replied.  “A female sex slave, with long blonde hair and blue eyes, she appeared to be about ten years in age, and was completely naked except the white slave bands.”

“White bands means she was unused.”  Said Diana.

“What a nice euphemism.”  Said Alex with a slight note of sarcasm.  “So what did he want?”

“He wanted to market their product on Freya and in the Ursa Major Confederation.”  Said Evelyn.  “He wanted to use our family’s influence to lift the capital ban on slavery.  And he brought along the girl to the meeting as a bribe.”

“You said no, of course.”

“I wasn’t polite about it.”  Said Evelyn.  “I used some old school barracks language in front of the girl.”

Evelyn wanted to stop.  He didn’t want to remember.

He sat silently until Diana spoke.”

“Evelyn?”

“I said no.”

“That wasn’t all, was it?”  Said Alex.

Evelyn hadn’t simply said no.  He thought that he was being clever in his response.  It didn’t work.

“No, that wasn’t all.”  Evelyn replied.  “I told him, ‘I won’t lift a finger to help you politically.  But I will do you one favor.  I’ll take this little girl back to Freya, where she’ll be adopted by a real family and grow up as a real person, and then when it’s time for you to join the choir infernal you’ll have one less sin to atone for.’”

Evelyn closed his eyes and silently wrapped himself around Diana.  He didn’t want to let her go.  Ever.

Alex spoke.

“He killed her.”

Evelyn opened his eyes and stared as if he were seeing into a void.

“Yes, he killed her.  Right there.  It was as if he was simply pressing the off switch for her.”

The monomolecular threads swiftly cut through the neck, wrists, and ankles.  Every part of the girl simply dropped to the floor.  Blood sprayed everywhere.

“I didn’t say anything.”  Said Evelyn.  “I simply drew my weapon and shot them through the heads.  As if they were simply animals.”

Evelyn paused, and then spoke again.

“I knelt and looked at her face.  I could see the light fading from her eyes.”

“I seen death.”  Said Alex.

“I know.”  Evelyn replied.  “I remember every one.  You never saw this one, and you don’t want to see this one.”

In Chicago as far as anyone standing outside could perceive it was simply an ordinary block shaped office building in the center of the newly reconstructed city.  It appeared as if the architect was barely competent to design such a structure.  In fact the designer had gone out of his way to make the structure, clad in black tinted glass, indistinctive when compared to other buildings in the city so it wouldn’t attract unwanted attention.

The ground limousine entered the restricted section of the underground garage.  An actual living and breathing security officer in a normal business suit stood and waited as the white haired passenger completed a retina scan.  Only then was the man allowed to enter the restricted section of the building.

The man rode the private elevator to the top floor of the building.  There he was met by another security officer.

The white haired man introduced himself.

“Mister Wolfe to see The Committee.”

The security officer looked through an actual printed book of holographic color photographs to identify Wolfe.

“You may enter, sir.”  Said the officer.

Wolfe said nothing more to the officer as he entered the restricted suite.

Past the entrance of the suite was a corridor.  On the far side of the corridor was another familiar set of doors.  Standing before the doors was a tall brown haired woman in an expensively tailored all white business suit.  She was one of the rare people in this age to still wear eyeglasses.

She spoke to Wolfe.

“The Committee requires that you sit in the chair under the spotlight.”

Wolfe took a step forward.  The woman blocked him with the right hand.
 
She spoke again.

“The Committee requires that you acknowledge their instructions.”

The elder Wolfe resented being treated as if he were still a mere schoolboy.

He replied.

“I will sit in the chair as instructed.”

The woman replied.

“Thank you Mister Wolfe, you may enter now.”

The woman opened the door.  Wolfe walked in.

The walls of the chamber were covered with black curtains.  Before the head of the room and the right and left sides were the elevated tables behind which The Committee would sit in judgement of the elder Wolfe.

Before the bench was a single and simple chair under a spotlight.

The elder Wolfe sat down.

It was then the men and woman who made up The Committee filed into the chamber.  Each member of The Committee was as old or older than the elder Wolfe.  Each member wore a black robe over a black shirt and a black skullcap.

When all the members were seated the chairwoman spoke to Wolfe.

“You will stand up.”

Wolfe stood up.

The chairwoman asked a question.

“Do you understand why you have been summoned?”

“Yes, Madam Chairman.”  Wolfe replied.

“Do you know the truth?”

“Yes.”  Said Wolfe.  “‘There is no god but God and the Elder Gabriel is His voice.’”

“Please be seated.”  Said the chairwoman.

The elder Wolfe sat down.

The chairwoman spoke.

“Brian Francis Wolfe, do you understand why you have been summoned before the committee?”

“No.”  He replied.

The chairwoman shook her head and then responded.

“Your son, Edward, was arrested, tried, and executed for the crime of enslavement in the Ursa Major Confederation.”

“My son was murdered by a false state to enforce a false law.”

The chairwoman spoke again.

“By placing himself outside the boundary of the true state your son placed himself outside the protection of the true law.”

“They had no right to murder my son!”

The chairwoman shook her head and spoke again.

“You are fully aware of the fact that there is no right and no wrong, there is only power over others.  You should have passed this awareness on to your son.”

“I know now.”  Said Wolfe.

Wolfe sat silently.

Pest Control, Part Four

September 11, 2245
New Boston, Kennedy, Alpha Centauri B

Prime Minister John Morrison stared out the window in his office at the ruins of the downtown basilica.  Even though the Mother Church owned the property and could afford to rebuild, the church was left in ruins to remind everyone what the Freyans did when they came to this world.

“Your guest is here, sir.”  The secretary said over the intercom.

Prime Minister Morrison walked to his desk and down on button on the intercom.

“Send him in.”  He said.

“Yes, sir.”  The secretary replied.

Prime Minister Morrison walked around his desk and stood before one of couches in his office.

Archbishop Lester Banion walked into the Prime Minister’s office and stood before the Prime Minister.  The two men sat on their couches.

“You know why I’m here?”  Said Archbishop Banion.

“To negotiate a peace deal.”  Replied Prime Minister Morrison.  “Only, it won’t happen.”

“Why not?”  Asked Archbishop Banion.

Prime Minister Morrison answered.

“You look upon the period the Mother Church was backed by the force of the State as a golden age.  Most of the inhabitants of this world looked at that time as a nightmare.  We want no more nightmares.  Paul Clark was hanged for numerous capital crimes.  It wasn’t just the Freyans who became angry when he was canonized, many people were.”

“How dare you deride Saint Paul Clark!”  Archbishop Banion stood up and shouted.

“The only reason The Vatican still exists is because it’s located on the Earth.  Even The Federation is tired of your nonsense.”  Prime Minister Morrison said.

Prime Minister Morrison continued.

“Those who’ve believed absurdities have committed atrocities.  You believe you’re one of the good guys, so did Oskar Dirlewanger.”

“Who?”  Archbishop Banion asked.

“Oskar Dirlewanger was one of the perpetrators of The Holocaust.”  Prime Minister Morrison replied.

“Who cares about a bunch of Kikes?”  Archbishop Banion asked.

“A lot of people do.”  Prime Minister Morrison answered.

Prime Minister Morrison said another thing to Archbishop Banion.

“Perhaps it’s time for you to leave.”

With that word the door to the Prime Minister’s office opened and another man stepped in.  The man held up a playing card, the face was the King of Spades suite, on the back was a white cross of St. Andrew over a black field.  The man spoke.

“Director Stern sends her regards.”

“You won’t get me to talk!”  Archbishop Banion shouted.

The man attached a piece of hull tape over Archbishop’s Banion’s mouth and responded.

“You won’t need to.”

As Archbishop Banion was being taped up by other men, Prime Minister Morrison spoke.

“Part of the function of a politician is to make deals.”  Prime Minister Morrison said to Archbishop Banion.  “I was made Prime Minister to clean up the mess you’ve made.  I don’t expect to be reelected for doing this.”

Archbishop Banion struggled as he was carried out of the Prime Minister’s office.

Prime Minister Morrison walked over to the window.  An aide stepped into the Prime Minister’s office and walked over to Prime Minister Morrison.  Prime Minister Morrison pointed to the ruins of the basilica and spoke.

“Let’s do some eminent domain and seize the property.”  Prime Minister Morrison said to the aide.  “Demolish the ruins and let the Mother Church know who’s really in charge on this planet.”

At numerous barracks around the city of New Boston members of KDF put on their body armor and picked up their 9mm Advanced Combat Rifles.  Many members of the People’s Front for Liberation of Kennedy would come down with fatal cases of Sudden Lead Poisoning on this day.

New York City, Manhattan Borough

Several police officers and firemen, including Detectives Greeley and Logan, were gathered at the site of Ground Zero to hear the mayor, retired police officer Kathleen Connor, speak.

“Nearly three thousand people were murdered as an act of hatred against Humanity.  Many of our brothers and sisters died on that fateful day.  A proper act of retribution would be erasing The Kaaba from the face of the Earth.  But we had Bush 43 as the President and we got the War On Terror along with the goat rodeo known as the Transportation Security Agency instead.  The false prophet Mohammad combined the worst features of Robert Lee Herald, Jeffery Epstein, with Charles Manson and turned them up beyond eleven.”

Detectives Greeley and Logan saw a librarian at New York City Public Library.  Detectives Greeley and Logan sat down at a table with the librarian.

“Have you ever read Star Of The North by Evelyn Stone?”  Asked the librarian.

“No, I haven’t.”  Replied Detective Logan.

“It reads like an autobiography, except that the names of the central character and girlfriend in Colorado were apparently changed.”  Said the librarian.

“Stone may have been a veteran of a war between the United States and the Soviet Union?”  Asked Detective Greeley.

“What’s the Soviet Union?”  Asked Detective Logan.

“The Union of Soviet Socialist Republics.”  Answered the librarian.  “It was a large state that consisted of Russia, The Ukraine, Belorussia, the Baltic States, and some Muslim territories.”  Answered the librarian.  “It was a Communist state.”

“Didn’t they know that Communism had a one hundred percent failure rate?”  Asked Detective Logan.

“No,” replied the librarian, “ a Soviet leader once to the Americans, ‘we will bury you,’ the Soviet Union was buried instead.”

The librarian continued.

“The New York Times, before it was shut down by the reformers, tried to influence a presidential election.  They tried this by reading Stone’s works.”

The librarian continued again.

“Stone was an interesting guy, he once got into a dispute with Robert Lee Herald.”

“Herald was the founder of the Center For Eternal Truth.”  Said Detective Logan.

The librarian continued again.

“Herald sent people out to murder Stone.  One of Stone’s friends was caught in the crossfire and killed.  Stone responded by riding on a motorcycle out to California, when it still a single state of the American union, and killing Herald.  Actions always have consequences.  There are now more than two hundred million people like Stone, and they’re still acting on their beliefs.

Detectives Greeley and Logan just stared at the librarian.

Omaha, capital of The Federation

In her temporary office in the basement of the Freyan embassy Judith Stern, the Director of the Central Security Agency of Ursa Major Confederation, looked at several photographs in a meeting with her subordinate, Ed Foster.

“It looks like Douglas Green is on board the British Spaceways ship The City Of Manchester.”  Director Stern said.  “Even if she wasn’t in hyperspace we still couldn’t board her.”

All Ed Foster could do was nod.

Hyperspace, British Spaceways Ship The City Of Manchester

Douglas Green sat in his cabin and thought.

A Freyan Pest Control team won’t get me here.

A Rant On The Internet Outage

The Internet went out in Minneapolis or the Twin Cities area in general.  I don't if the outage was national or worldwide yet.

"As I write this The Internet is down.  How many people have died as a result of the loss of The Internet?  The Internet didn’t exist when I was growing up.  The computers that did exist were large things that were owned by major corporations and universities.  Supercomputers took advantage of the speed of light.  Data processing consisted of using IBM punch cards.  How many people remember IBM punch cards?  Programing languages were simple and taught by math departments.  Military orders were typed out on manual typewriters, I copied my travel orders on to a file (which may be found on my Flickr site) as a result of the Killian Memos fiasco.  Books were purchased at physical “brick and mortar” bookstores.  How many bookstores have gone out of business because of Internet retailers?  The Internet is simply a tool.  A tool is simply a means to an end.  The ultimate end is Human Life.  We must understand that a fear of tools is simply irrational.  An employee of the Healtheast Care System in St. Paul was afraid of an image of several firearms on a coffee cup used by one of the security guards.  A customer at a supermarket was afraid of the light of a bar code scanner touching her groceries.  A firearm and a bar code scanner are simply tools.  There is no reason to fear them.  Alcoholism wasn’t caused by a supply of alcohol, but by the alcoholics.  The Holocaust wasn’t caused by a supply of Zyklon-B, but by the beliefs of the perpetrators.  Zyklon-B was developed and marketed as an insecticide.  The Oklahoma City Bombing wasn’t caused by a supply of ammonium nitrate and fuel oil, but by the beliefs of perpetrators.  9/11 wasn’t caused by airliners and box cutters, but by the beliefs of perpetrators.  Any horror wasn’t caused by the tools that were used but by the beliefs of the perpetrators.  There is simply no reason to fear a tool."

Pest Control, Part Three

September 4, 2245
London, England

In a cafe in the downtown section of London a twenty something woman was having conversation with a nearly forty man, a former mercenary, over cups of tea.

“They’re using you.”  The older man said.

“My late aunt Diana wanted to regain the British Throne.”  The young woman said.

“It’s over, isn’t it?”  The young woman asked.

“Yes, it is.”  The older man replied.

At a crime scene in a hotel an elderly white haired man lay dead.  Detective Liz Bishop held up a playing card in an evidence bag and asked a question of her partner Detective Sergeant John Kane.

“What is this?”

Detective Sergeant John Kane answered her question.

“It appears to be a death card.  The St. Andrew’s Cross in white over a black field is the symbol of the Central Security Agency of the Ursa Major Confederation.”

“So the Freyans are accepting responsibility?”  Asked Detective Bishop.

“Yes, they appear to be.”  Replied Detective Sergeant Kane.

In a London hotel room Mr. Green was packing his bags.  He wanted escape from the Freyans.

I need to leave the system.  Mr. Green thought.  Maybe I’ll find sanctuary on the Catholic world of Veracruz, the Freyans hate the inhabitants.

Buenos Aries, Argentina

The city was rebuilt after being nuked by the United States Air Force after the foundation of The Federation. In a cafe in the downtown section of Buenos Aries, Alissa George, a woman in her mid-fifties, was having conversation with Melinda Fernandez, a reporter, over cups of coffee.

“I was a member of a ‘Pest Control Team.’” Alissa said.  “On Freya all children are taught the story of Socrates, you’re heard of him?”

“Yes.”  Replied Melinda.

Alissa spoke.

“From our perspective Socrates was a man in his early seventies living in a society that didn’t even have running water and his family was lethally threatened by the mob.  From his perspective drinking the hemlock appeared to be a good idea.”

Alissa asked a question.

“You’ve heard of Evelyn Stone?”

“Yes.”  Replied Melinda.

Alissa spoke.

“One of the stories we were taught on Freya was that when Stone was a teenage boy he rode across country on an ancient motorcycle to air out the head of the false phophet Robert Lee Herald.  Herald had ordered the murder of Stone and as a result a close fiend was murdered in turn.  Stone personally responded to the act of murdering a close friend by lethal force.  Four decades ago a preteen girl was kidnaped by the state that ruled Kennedy in the Alpha Centauri system.  The naval task force that was sent out to rescue her came out of the Nuclear Closet.  In the Armed Forces and the Central Security Agency we’re taught to do anything necessary to perform our mission.”

“And what is the mission of the CSA?”  Asked Melinda.

“The fundamental mission of the CSA was to safeguard our planet.”  Answered Alissa.  

New York City, Manhattan Borough
    
In the Metropolitan Correctional Center Amy Martin had two visitors.  Detectives Greeley and Logan were visiting Amy Martin.

Amy Martin spoke.

“They’ve put me in the cell Jeffery Epstein was murdered in!”

Jeffery Epstein died before the New York City area was placed under siege during The Reformation.

“The idea that Epstein was murdered is a right wing conspiracy theory.”  Said Detective Greeley.

 “The Freyans can’t get you here.”  Said Detective Logan.

“Someone can get me here!”  Amy Martin shouted.

“You’re safe in here.”  Said Detective Greeley.

Later, over cups of coffee in a donut shop (some things never change) Detectives Greeley and Logan had a conversation.

Detective Greeley had a question for his partner Detective Logan.

“Why did the reformers believe Epstein was murdered?”

Detective Logan answered.

“Again with the history lessons.  It’s impossible for anyone to commit suicide in the MCC.  But the county Medical Examiner ruled the death of Epstein a suicide.  Even Michael Shermer, a professional sceptic, wasn’t convinced it was a suicide.  On top of the official ruling of suicide, all of the video cameras on Epstein’s cell were out, and the guards slept then forged their own logs.”

Detective Logan continued.

“The reformers hated Democrats and really hated those who advocated Gun Control.”

One of the consequences of The Reformation was that New York City police officers couldn’t arrest anyone, even gang members, on firearm charges.

Detective Logan again continued.

“The senior Senator from New York, Charles Schumer, sought refuge in Israel.  All the reformers, from Evelyn Stone on down, were willing to nuke the Israelis as a result.”

“Is that so?’  Asked Detective Greeley.

Detective Logan answered.

“Stone even had a decades long relationship with the Israelis.”

Buenos Aries, Argentina

Alissa George was still having a conversation with Melinda Fernandez.

Alissa spoke.

“We constantly ask ourselves the question of why The Holocaust happened.”

“Why did The Holocaust happen?”  Melinda asked.

“There’s an answer, but you may not like it.”  Alissa replied.  “The perpetrators of any horror, including The Holocaust, believed themselves to be good people.  Even psychopaths, especially that Dirlewanger guy, believed themselves to be good people.  The opponents of The Reformation believed themselves to be good people and their opponents to be evil.”

New York City, Manhattan Borough

Detectives Greeley and Logan continued their conversation.

“Bishop Paul Clark was declared a martyr and then a saint.”  Said Detective Logan.  “The only reason The Vatican still stands is that the Freyans don’t want a war with The Federation, although the incidents with the Martins and the Fremantle congregation way provoke it. Other worlds may leave the Nuclear Closet and join the Freyans.”

“So the Freyans don’t actually believe in freedom of religion or philosophy?”  Asked Detective Greeley.

“No, not as long as it impacts on them.”  Responded Detective Logan.  “The Freyans are constantly hanging missionaries with a noose made of steel wire.”

Detect Greeley pondered what he just heard.

Omaha, capital of The Federation

in her temporary office in the basement of the Freyan embassy Judith Stern, the Director of the Central Security Agency of Ursa Major Confederation, had a meeting with her subordinate, Ed Foster.

“It looks like the Pest Control teams are rolling up The Committee, ma’am.  The Federation are letting us do the dirty work, ma’am”  Said Foster.

“Good.”  Replied Director Stern.

States follow their own interests.  If a means is available to pursue their interests, they’ll use it.

Phoenix Starport, Earth

Douglas Green purchased a one way High Passage to Veracruz on British Spaceways.  Even though The Committee had allocated a starship for him, Green decided not to use her.

Pest Control, Part Two

New York City, Manhattan Borough
September 3, 2245

In the morning Detectives Greeley and Logan were each having a cup of coffee at a donut shop.  Some things never change.

Detective Greeley asked his partner Detective Logan another question.

“So how did the feud between the Freyans and the Fremantle congregation start?”

Detective Logan briefly closed his eyes and then answered.

“A member of the Fremantle congregation murdered the previous Freyan Consul, a Maya Stern, for the reward of God’s eternal grace.  Needless to say the Freyans got angry, thus the subsequent killing of Reverend Paul Martin in reprisal.”

At the same time in the Borough of Brooklyn, a group of New York City police officers were surrounding the Fremantle Baptist Church.  Each police officer was armored to the Federation Army standard and armed with an ACRS.  The Federation had enough of the antics of the Fremantle congregation.  The police entered the church in a hostile fashion.

At the time Amy Martin was preaching a sermon about the death of her husband, the pastor of the Fremantle Baptist Church, Reverend Paul Martin.

As the congregation watched, Amy Martin was slammed to the floor and cuffed by some police officers.  A police captain stood over Amy Martin and spoke.

“Amy Martin, you’re under arrest for treason, this is a capital crime, you have the right to remain silent and a right to an attorney, if you can’t afford an attorney then one will be appointed for you.  Do you understand?”

Amy Martin shouted.

“You’ll burn in Hell for this!”

The police captain answered.

“I’ll take that as a yes.”

Amy Martin shouted again.

“Jesus Christ is real!”

A police officer slapped a piece of duct tape over Amy Martin’s mouth.

“Adolf Hitler was real too.”  The police captain responded.

Across the city, in the donut shop Detective Greeley had another question for his partner Detective Logan.

“The Freyans have a problem with religion?”

Detective Logan answered.

“Before the planet was granted independence the Freyans made up slightly less than half of the membership of Quarantine Force.”  

Detective Greeley had another question.

“What were the next two ethnic groups?”  Asked Detective Greeley.

“The Great Russians and the Han Chinese.”  Responded Detective Logan.

“Of course.”  Said Detective Greeley.

London, England

In a park while seated on a bench a white haired woman approaching the age of seventy was speaking to a man whose age was approaching forty.

“My family used to live there.”  She said as she pointed to Buckingham Palace.  “Now it’s just a tourist attraction.”

Diana Windsor was now a senior member of The Committee.

“You want to restore the British Monarchy?”  The man asked.

“Yes.  The Committee is too focused on ruling The Federation.”  She said.

“Even though The Federation is reduced to the Solar System?”  The man asked.

“The Committee wants to rule the entire Known Universe.”  She answered.

“It won’t happen.”  The man said.  “The Military Assistance Corporation of Xenophon backed a military coup on Freya.  As a result, the Freyan Navy bombarded the planet Xenophon with cobalt cased thermonuclear weapons.  Nothing lives there now, not even mutants hunting each other for food.”

“The Committee wants to leave Freya a barren world.”  The woman said.

Freya was a Terrestrial planet orbiting the lesser star of the 10 Ursae Majoris system.  There were slightly more than two hundred million inhabitants of the planet Freya.

“It won’t happen.”  The man said.  The man was a graduate of The Federation Military Academy at West Point, and he was well versed in military affairs.  He decided to not work for The Committee anymore.

The woman stood up by herself and walked over to the limousine waiting for her.  The electric motors of the limousine hummed as she was driven back to the hotel in central London where she was staying.

When she entered the suite a gloved hand covered her mouth.

“You didn’t believe you would escape us, did you?”  A man in a hotel servant’s uniform said.

A Freyan Pest Control team was now in her suite.

“Hook her up and download her.”  He commanded.

Two detectives from the Metropolitan Police surveyed the crime scene in her hotel suite.  Detective Sergeant John Kane and his partner Detective Liz Bishop had drawn this case.

“I’ll wager that the CSI team won’t find the prints of anyone but victim’s, her staff, and the hotel staff.”  Said Detective Sergeant Kane.

“I wouldn’t cover the wager, sir” Detective Bishop replied.

Detective Sergeant Kane walked over to the corpse and examined the wires coming out of her head.

“I’ll wager that the Freyans used one of their portable download kits.”  He said.

“I wouldn’t cover that wager either, sir” Detective Bishop replied.

Once the detectives were finished examining the crime scene they went their own ways.  In another London hotel Detective Bishop met with an elderly man.  Douglas Green was now a senior member of The Committee.

“It appears that The Committee is now in the sights of the Freyan CSA, sir.”  Said Detective Bishop.  “I think you should drop or significantly change your plans for the Freyans, sir.”

“I’ll pass on your advice Detective Bishop.”  Replied Mr. Green.  “But I don’t believe The Committee will follow it.”

In basement of the Freyan embassy in Omaha a meeting was being held.


At the meeting was Director Judith Stern of the CSA and her subordinate, Ed Foster.

“It looks like we have more work to do on Earth, ma’am.”  Said Foster.

Director Stern was silent.

Damn.  She thought.

Shortly thereafter The Committee was holding a meeting in London.  Mr. Green spoke.

“A member of this committee was downloaded and killed by the Freyans.  We may have to abandon this place and alter or drop our plans for the Freyans.”

“No.”  Replied the chairman of The Committee.

Mr. Green spoke again.

“The Freyans don’t play recordings of noises or water board anyone anymore.  They’ve used a direct neural interface since Judith Stern took over direction of the Central Security Agency.  The Freyans are playing nasty with us, and under the circumstances I don’t them.”

“Our plans still stand.”  Responded the chairman of The Committee.

Perhaps it’s time to abandon The Committee. Thought Mr. Green.

Pest Control

New York City, Manhattan Borough
September 2, 2245

Two police detectives were escorted by two members of Freyan Marine security detail wearing combat gear past the protestors in front of the Freyan Consulate.  The protestors were from The Fremantle Baptist Church.  Many of the protestors held professionally made signs that proclaimed that “God Hates Freyans.”

“The Consul will see you gentlemen right away.”  Proclaimed a Freyan diplomat as the two detectives waited in front of the Consul’s office.  

The police detectives were promptly led into the Consul’s office.

The Consul’s office was paneled in maple wood.  The Freyan Consul, Jennifer March, a woman in her mid-thirties stood up behind her desk as the detectives entered the office.

“Please take a seat.”  The Consul said to the detectives.

The two detectives took their seats before the Consul’s desk.

“So why are you here?”  The Consul asked the detectives.

“We’re here to investigate the murder of Reverend Wayne Martin, ma’am?”  Replied Detective Greeley, the senior of the police detectives.  

“You don’t have to answer our questions, ma’am.”  Said Detective Logan.

Detective Greeley looked at Detective Logan in a foul manner for a moment.

“I want to answer questions.”  Replied the Consul. “Diplomacy runs in our family.  I was the oldest daughter of James and Beth March.”

“Yes, ma’am.”  Replied Detective Greeley.

“So Martin came down with a lethal case of Sudden Lead Poisoning?”  Asked the Consul.

“Yes, ma’am.”  Replied Detective Greeley.  “We’re investigating the murder of Reverend Martin.”

“Nuking the Fremantle Baptist Church while the congregation present would have been bad form.”  Answered the Consul.

“Yes, ma’am.”  Responded Detective Greeley.

“Calling Martin a moron is an insult to morons.”  The Consul said to the detectives.

“Yes, ma’am.”  Responded Detective Greeley.

“Negative actions have negative consequences.”  The Consul said to the detectives.

“Yes, ma’am.”  Responded Detective Greeley.

“Some people believe they’ve exempt from consequences.”  The Consul said to the detectives.

“But Reality is real, those same people believe that the facts of Reality don’t apply to them.”

The Consul continued to lecture.

“Have you ever heard of the Center for Eternal Truth?”  She asked the detectives.

“No ma’am.”  Replied Detective Greeley.

The Consul continued to speak.

“They believed that the facts of Reality and laws of Man didn’t apply to them.  The false prophet Robert Lee Herald sent out someone to murder Evelyn Stone.  Stone was wounded and one of his friends was murdered.  Stone responded by personally airing out Herald’s head, he had no choice in the matter.  We have no choice but to send out a Pest Control Team to air out Martin.  One attribute of the perpetrators of every horror have one thing in common, they believe they’re the good guys.  Martin and his followers believed they’re the good guys.  Early in the Twenty First Century some scholars believed that Jesus Christ didn’t exist.  But what was really shocking was that some scholars put forth the idea that Christianity was created by the rulers of Roman Empire as a political control mechanism.”

“How do you know this, ma’am?”  Asked Detective Greeley.

“I majored in history in college, sir.”  Replied the Consul.

“Where’s the Pest Control Team now, ma’am?”  Asked Detective Greeley.

“They’re outside of your jurisdiction,” replied the Consul, “they should be in Hyperspace by now.”

“The facts of Reality require us to act in your jurisdiction.”  Said the Consul.

With the interview over the two police detectives were escorted by two members of Freyan Marine security detail past the protestors in front of the Freyan Consulate.

Once the electric motors of the police car started humming Detective Greeley had a question for Detective Logan.

“What problem does the Fremantle congregation have with the Freyans?”

Detective Logan answered.

“The Freyans are a bunch of atheists.  There are no churches on Freya, not even storefronts.  The Freyans even have a national holiday to celebrate the birthday of Ayn Rand.”

“What about Madalyn Murray O'Hair?”  Detective Greeley asked.
“The Freyans hate her.”  Detective Logan answered.
“The Freyan suitcase nukes are rated at five kilotons,” Detective Logan also said, “which was one third of the yield of the bomb dropped on Hiroshima, and one quarter of the yield of the bomb dropped on Nagasaki.”

“Is that so?”  Replied Detective Greeley.
“Yes.”  Said Detective Logan.
“The Freyans even hanged a bishop.”  Said Detective Logan.
In the Borough of Brooklyn another Freyan Pest Control Team was leaving their safe house.  Each member of the team was armed with a sterilized 9mm ACRS.  The team’s destination was the Fremantle Baptist Church, their mission was to lethally interrupt the meeting that was being held at the church.

In the city of Omaha the Freyan Ambassador, Nathan Stone, was having a meeting with the Federation President.  The Freyans were tired of being harassed by members of the Fremantle Baptist Church.

“Clean up the mess,” said Ambassador Stone, “or we’ll clean it up for you.”

Detectives Greeley and Logan were called to the site of the Fremantle Baptist Church.  One of the New York Police officers guarding the site spoke to Detectives Greeley and Logan.

“There’s been a massacre here.”  She said.

Detectives Greeley and Logan stepped down to the basement of the church.  There were a group of bullet riddled bodies seated around a table.

“It looks they were here for a meeting” Said Detective Logan.

“They met.”  Replied Detective Greeley.

A team from the New York Medical Examiners Office came to the site of the massacre.  The team leader spoke.    

“It couldn’t happen to a better bunch.”  She said.

“Right’” Replied both Detectives Greeley and Logan.

Another playing card was found at the site of the massacre.  The suite was the King of Spades.  A playing card was found at the site of the death of Reverend Martin.  The suite was the Ace of Spades.

In a transparent evidence bag Detective Greeley showed the back of the playing card to Detective Logan.

“What does this mean?”  Detective Greeley asked Detective Logan.

Detective Logan looked at the playing card in the evidence bag.  Detective Logan answered.

“It’s a Death Card, with the Cross of Saint Andrew in white over a field of black, the symbol of the Central Security Agency of the Ursa Major Confederation.”  Replied Detective Logan.

“The Central Security Agency of the Freyan’s is institutionally taking responsibility while individuals who performed the act have fled the scene?”  Asked Detective Greeley.

“That appears to be the case,” replied Detective Logan, “it looks like they left their weapons.”

Detective Logan picked up a sterilized 9mm ACRS.  The 9mm ACR was issued to the armed forces of the Ursa Major Confederation.  The special operation forces of the Ursa Major Confederation used the 9mm ACRS, the short version of the service weapon.

Detective Greeley spoke to Captain Reynolds, the chief of detectives at the 27th Precinct.

“I really don’t believe that we’ll close this case.”

Consequences

When the news of the arrest of Judith Stern reached the planet Null the Glorious Leader felt there was an opportunity to bomb the planet Freya.


The commander of the fleet sent to the 10 Ursae Majoris system, Vice Admiral Jackson, was strutting about the command deck of the flag ship in his blue dress uniform.  Vice Admiral Jackson wore medals for awards for bravery he never actually earned.  The plan was to refuel at a gas giant before bombardment, Vice Admiral Jackson didn’t expect any opposition.


The RFS Guardian was a Exodus class missile frigate that was assigned to defend the 10 Ursae Majoris system.  The Exodus class had no hyperdrive had six gees of acceleration and some armor.  Most of the vessels of the system defense squadron went out to the gas giants.


RFS Guardian was off of a gas giant.


“Another ship has dropped out of hyperspace.  It looks like it’s cruiser size.”  Said the executive officer.


Shit.  Thought Lieutenant Commander Shane.


“Can you track it?”  Replied Lieutenant Commander Shane.


“Yes, sir.”  Said the executive officer at the sensor station.


Vice Admiral Jackson was on the cruiser RNS Laurence Null.  The other ships in the task force that were expected to be there weren’t there.  There was only an expanding cloud of wreckage.


“Can any of you lock on to it?”  Said Lieutenant Commander Shane to the gunners.


“Aye, aye, sir.”  All three gunners replied.


“I have a lock on the target, sir.”  Said the missile gunner.


“Fire.”  Ordered Lieutenant Commander Shane.


“Aye, aye, sir.”  The missile gunner replied.


A spread of six type two missiles were emitted from the missile frigate.  Five of the missiles were wasted.  One of the missiles detonated near the enemy cruiser.  The wreckage of the cruiser RNS Laurence Null spread out from the detonation.


The Glorious Leader was angry at the failure of the expedition.


The Freyan navy task force returned to the home world.  The prisoners were thawed out.  Judith Stern was returned to her family.  The first prisoner placed on trial was Paul Clark.

 
In a courthouse in the city of Landfall a female judge spoke.


“Please Rise.”


Everyone rose, except the defendant Paul Clark.


Thomas Murray, the court appointed attorney, turned to the defendant and spoke.


“You need to stand up.”


“I’ll never stand up for that Godless filth!”  Clark stated.


“You’re going to be in deep trouble.”  Murray replied.


The judge spoke.


“Paul Clark, you’ve been charged with the kidnaping of a minor, this is a capital crime.  How do you plead?”


“I did nothing wrong!  I’ll never submit to Godless filth!”  Clark replied.


The judge said.


“I’ll take that as a not guilty plea.”


The judge spoke to a security guard.


“Tape the defendant.”


The security guard placed hull tape over the mouth of Clark.


The foreman of the jury spoke after a few moments in the jury room.


“We find the defendant guilty of the crimes of kidnaping a minor and denying our Constitution.”


The judge thanked the jury, and then turned to the defendant and spoke.


“Paul Clark, you’ve been found guilty of the crimes of kidnaping a minor and denying our Constitution, and you’re sentenced to death.”


“Congratulations,” said Murray, “you’‘ve just bought a piece of steel wire.”


Clark’s eyes bugged out.


Murray spoke again.


“The old American Constitution, The Federation Charter, and The Freyan Constitution specifically forbid cruelty.” said Murray, “executions are normally carried out with single round to the head.  But those who commit the crime of denying The Freyan Constitution are slowly hanged with a steel wire.”


Paul Clark slowly choked to death as he was hanged.  Thomas Gratton behaved himself and was convicted of kidnaping a minor.  Gratton was eventually sentenced to death.


After roughly a month a promotion ceremony was held in front of the Department of Planetary Security building.  Several naval officers were in their dress white uniforms.  Commodore Keller wore, apart from the SURFER badge, only two ribbons.  The ribbon for the relief expedition and the ribbon for the navy commodation medal with three gold stars on it.  The naval officers stood at attention as the presidential gravitic limousine landed in front of the building.  The Freyan president stepped out of the limousine.  She wore a dark blue business suit and walked up to the naval officers.


The Freyan president then replaced shoulder boards of Commodore Keller with the shoulder boards of a rear admiral.  The shoulder boards of a rear admiral had the wide gold stripe of a flag officer and a basic gold stripe with the four pointed Freyan star in gold.


“I’m sorry I have to send you out again.”  Said President Veronica Sterling as she replaced the shoulder boards.


“What do you want me to do, Ma’am?”  Said Rear Admiral Keller.


“I’m sorry, I want you to bomb the planet Null back into the stone age.”  Answered President Sterling.


“They’re already there, Ma’am.”  Replied Rear Admiral Keller.


“Philosophically they’re there, I need you to bomb them physically there.  They’re about to discover, the hard way, that content of character does matter.”  Said President Sterling.


“Aye, aye, Ma’am.”  Replied Rear Admiral Keller.


Rear Admiral Keller saluted President Sterling.


The sun generally known as Procyon was beginning it’s daily ascent over the capital city of the planet Null.  The Glorious Leader of the People stepped out on the balcony of the uppermost floor of the Presidential Palace.


The capital city of his world lay before him.  Today would be a glorious day.  Today he would do and say glorious things.  The African-Americans who colonized this planet would begin to take back what they were taught and believed was rightfully theirs.


The ride in his gravitic limousine to the football stadium of the planetary capital was uneventful.


The sun had almost reached the high point of noon overhead as the Glorious Leader of the People walked up the steps of the platform.  Like everyone in the large football stadium where he was to speak, he wore the ruling party’s new black dress uniform for the first time.  Like most of the people on his planet his skin was almost as dark as the uniform.  The new dress uniform was itself a copy of the uniform worn by members of the Null Boys, which supported the martyred President Null in the old United States on Earth, before they were wiped out by the Caucasians and the Jews during the Second American Civil War.


Today, everything would change.  And for him it would be for the better.


The Glorious Leader of the People stepped up to the podium, he raised his right fist into the air above him, and he shouted into the microphone.


“POWER!”


Everyone in the stadium raised their right fists into the air and shouted their reply.


“POWER!”


The Glorious Leader of the People, with his fist still in the air, shouted again.


“POWER TO THE PEOPLE!”


Everyone in the stadium again raised their right fists into the air and replied.


“POWER TO THE PEOPLE!”


The Glorious Leader of the People and his uniformed audience repeated the vocal ritual two more times.  The Glorious Leader of the People tried to not too obvious as he looked at the screens of the teleprompter system on the stage.


The Glorious Leader of the People began to speak again.


“Today marks a new beginning for The People,” he said, “today is the day The People rightfully return to their proper place in the universe!”


The Glorious Leader of the People again raised his fist into the air and shouted.


“POWER TO THE PEOPLE!”


The uniformed audience again raised their fists into the air and replied.


“POWER TO THE PEOPLE!”


The ritual was again repeated two more times.


The Glorious Leader of the People briefly peeked at a teleprompter screen and then spoke levelly.  The Glorious Leader of the People raised his right fist in the air and shouted to again begin the POWER ritual.  The Glorious Leader of the People continued to rant and rave of his hatred of all the other races of mankind.  Especially the Caucasians and the Jews.  Who where in the mind of the Glorious Leader of the People, and his people, were a corruption of the true form of Man.  And he promised that he would do everything necessary to wipe the inferior races, especially the Caucasians and the Jews, from the face of the Universe.  The ranting when on and on and on or another two hours.


Finally, The Glorious Leader of the People came to what he believed to be the best part of the speech.


“We shall avenge the death of President Null,” he shouted, “we shall completely wipe out the family founded by Evelyn Stone, the cracker who brought about the death of President Null and murdered our brothers in the Null Boys in the old United States.  And we shall wipe out the nation that he and his followers founded, the Freyan Empire!  We shall wipe all of them completely off the face of the Universe!”


The Glorious Leader of the People raised his fist in the air and shouted.


“DEATH TO FREYA!”


The audience raised their fists in the air and repeated after their leader.  This ritual was repeated two more times.  The Glorious Leader of the People then raised his fist one last time in the air repeated the POWER ritual three more times.


The brass band played a marching tune as the Glorious Leader of the People walked off of the stage.


The ride from the football stadium to the presidential residence was, as expected, uneventful.


Everyone stood to attention as The Glorious Leader of the People walked through his outer office.

 
In his gilded inner office he found Mr. Douglas Green already seated on a chair in front of his desk.  Green, who was dressed in his all white version of the current high end Centaurian business fashion didn’t stand up.


The Glorious Leader of the People became angry.  He became very visibly angry at the sight of Green as he remained seated.


“Sit down Johnny.”  Said Green in a level voice.


“How the Hell did you get in here?”  Johnny shouted.


“Intimidation.”  Green said with a level voice.  “Simple intimidation.”


Johnny remained angry.


“And can’t you stand up like everyone else.”  The Glorious Leader continued to shout.


 Green continued to reply with a level voice.


“No.”  He said.  “Why should I?”


Green made a gesture with the index finger of his right hand to indicate that Johnny should sit down in his own chair behind his own desk.


“Sit down, Johnny.”  Said Green with emphasis in a level voice.


Johnny sat down.


“You have a lot of nerve talking to me like that.”  Said Johnny.


“I have a nerve?”  Replied Green.  “I’m not the one who’s marching around in a godlike fashion and shouting like he’s the living embodiment of the popular will on this planet, as well as calling for the extermination of the most heavily armed people in The Universe outside of The Federation.”


“Oh, and that speech of yours sounded better in the original German.”  Said Green.


“And by the way,” said Green as he continued, “some Caucasians are paying your bills now.”


Green made a gesture with his right index finger as part of the process of stating a point.


“Starting a race war is generally believed to be a bad thing.”  He said.  “But starting a race war with a nation that has a fully functional industrial base, which has nuclear weapons, and has just demonstrated the will to use them is just plain dumb.  And starting a war with a bunch of folks who fight by the Saigon Rules is really and truly dumb.”


“The Saigon Rules?”  Said Johnny.


“We we’re taught them in school on Kennedy.”  Said Green.  “The primary rule was, ‘in the absence of the rule of law, anything goes.’  Given your open abrogation of commonly held moral laws, the Freyans will basically deal with you and your gang as if you’re a bunch of animals.  You’d better win this one, or else.”  


“And one other thing, as to renaming your planet,” he continued to say, “the Reverend Martin Luther King, Junior, is still a respected martyr more than two centuries after he fell to an assassins bullet, where President Null, or as he is still known on Freya, The Big Zero, is still generally seen as the reincarnation of Hitler in black face.  And by the way, did you know that President Null’s maternal grandfather was a member of the SS-Totenkopfverbande, who escaped to Argentina after the Second World War?”


“The SS-What?”  Said Johnny.


Green replied in a manner that spoke down to Johnny.


“The section of the SS that carried out The Final Solution.”


“So President Null’s grandfather killed a bunch of Kikes.”  Said Johnny. “So what?”


“Some people, even now, early in the Twenty Third Century,” said Green, “are still upset about The Final Solution.”


“Too fucking bad!”  Said Johnny.


“But that wasn’t all.”  Said Green.  "President Null’s mother didn’t buy into her father’s value system, when she grew up she went to Chicago in the United States and got herself impregnated by an African-American, she did this at a time when such persons were still openly called Niggers.”


Johnny jumped out of his chair, pointed at Green, and shouted.


“DON’T USE THAT WORD!”


Green answered with a level voice and in a full Irish accent.


“I’ll use whatever word that I find necessary to make my point to anyone, including to you.”


Green pointed back at Johnny’s chair and spoke.


“Sit down Johnny,” he said, “you look like an idiot.”


Johnny sat back down.  Green continued to speak.


“Needless to say, President Null’s grandfather, Friedrich, if I recall his name properly, didn’t take his daughter’s actions too well.  He was very embarrassed, especially in front of his old comrades, to have an obviously mixed race grandson.  He wouldn’t even speak to his grandson until the mother committed suicide.  After that Friedrich started to train his grandson to be a political leader, in the proper Nazi mode, of course.  In his diary he constantly referred to his grandson as Der Kinderbombe.  It was his intent to use his grandson as a means to bring down the degenerate American republic from the inside.”


    Johnny had an obvious question.


“And how do you know this?”


“Friedrich’s diary was found in the wreckage of the White House during The Reformation.”  Green replied.  “The full text was immediately posted on the internet, and I had to write a paper on it in high school.”


Johnny sat silently.  Green had to add something else.


“Given what you’ve done and said today, you may as well take your luggage, your mistresses, and your off planet bank’s ATM card and leave.  And go really far away.  Right fucking now.”


Johnny had enough abuse, he stood up and immediately snapped off a response to Green.


“You know, I can have you taken out and shot!”


Green smiled and replied.


“Oh, I’m absolutely certain that you could.”  He said.  “Of course the committee will cut off all existing financial support to the mob that you call a planetary government.  The general feeling of the committee is that if it were to happen that you and your gang would be overthrown in about a standard year.  But from what I’ve seen during my current visit here, I would expect that you and your regime would last less than a standard month.”


Johnny sat back down in stunned silence.  Green continued to speak.


“You’ll of course, get chopped up and fed to the dogs.”  Then Green remembered something.


“Oh, I forgot,” he said, “that’s an African practice, this planet was forcibly colonized by African-Americans.”


“Yes.”  Said Johnny.


“Well then you’ll likely be doused with methanol and set on fire.”   Said Green.  “Of course, if you’re lucky, the rebels that overthrow you will kill you first.”


Green thought for a moment and then continued to speak.


“It’ll be a race to see who gets to kill you first, your own people or the Freyans.”


Johnny glared at Green and asked a question.


“What the Hell do you mean?”   


Green replied.


“You’re the one who’s going to get yourself and everyone else on your own planet killed simply by opening your big mouth.”


Johnny sat back in his chair and spoke in an obviously hostile voice.


“Go on?”  He said.


Green looked straight at Johnny and spoke to him as if he were a teacher answering an obviously dumb question asked by a lazy student.  


Again.


He raised his right hand and counted off the points on each finger that was extended.


“You just told everyone in the known universe that you’re going to exterminate the Freyans, this in general, is a very, very, dumb move.”


Green raised a second finger and spoke again.


“Freya wasn’t colonized from Earth, it was colonized by people who originally settled on Mars.  Even though the Freyans are now a secular society, they still hold official ceremonies to commemorate the Holocaust.”


“So what?” Johnny replied.


Green smiled again and answered.


“They have a lot of very well armed and trained people on Freya.”


Green raised a third finger and spoke again.


“Needless to say the Freyans and their still observant relatives on Masada are still more than a bit sensitive about the open threat of genocide.”  He said.  “And on both worlds they’re building their own independent space forces and their own fission reactors to produce Plutonium for nuclear weapons.  If the government of one world doesn’t nuke your collective asses, the other one will.”


Johnny grinned.


“That’s not going to happen.”  He said.  “No one will allow the use of nuclear weapons.”


“And why not?”  Said Green.  “The same interstellar government that’s no longer preventing you from practicing full Socialism and participating in mercenary operations on other worlds is the same interstellar government that can’t protect you from your enemies.  And it’s the same interstellar government that didn’t prevent the Freyans from using missiles with nuclear warheads earlier this year just in the Alpha Centauri system.”


Green raised a fourth finger and continued to speak.


“And obviously you haven’t read Moral Decisions In Warfare by Evelyn Stone.”


“Why should I read a book written by that cracker?”  Snapped off Johnny.


“In the chapter covering the concept of genocide Stone wrote that when a group or nation is faced with an enemy who openly intends to carry out a campaign of extermination,” said Green, “then the only morally valid only option is to attack and exterminate the enemy or passively wait to be exterminated.”


Green brought up a memory of another high school class and continued to speak.


“The Null Boys were subjected by an order of President Stone to a campaign of open extermination as a result of the evidence of their crimes that was uncovered when areas that were under their control were liberated during The Reformation.”


Johnny shouted back.


“Our people committed no crimes!”


Green remained in the lecture mode when he replied.


“Mass murder on the basis of racial identity was back in the days of The Reformation was considered to be a very bad thing.  A very, very, bad thing.”  He said.  “While African-American civilians in general weren’t held responsible for the crimes of the Null Boys, they still had their collective noses rubbed in their shit.  Only those who could be actually proven to be members of the Null Boys were subjected to the extermination order as carried out by the reformers.”

    
Green brought his hands down to his lap, interlaced his fingers, and spoke again.


“Given what you’ve said to your mob today, you’ll be lucky if you and your people are just bombed back into the Stone Age.”


Green decided to not mention the fact that as far as he was concerned, the rulers and population of Null, formerly known as King, had already philosophically and morally returned to the Stone Age.

 
Green looked straight at Johnny, smiled and spoke again.


“Seriously, you’ve just thoroughly fucked yourselves.”  He said.  “Not only are you practicing Socialism, but you are practicing old school Nazism, and you’re doing it in a black face.  The only things that you’re lacking on this planet are a supply of Jews and some of those special camps with the shower and oven facilities.  The gang of thugs that you call a government has already run up a body count that nearly rivals that of the Khmer Rouge more than two centuries ago back on Earth.  And you’ve just, for all practical purposes, issued an open and engraved invitation to all other powers in the known universe, especially the Freyans, to come in and intervene.  And by intervene I mean with nuclear weapons.”


Johnny tried to calm himself down before asking another question.


“Mister Green,” he said, “why are you here?”  


“To do business.”  Green replied.  “Of course the only things that are being produced in any quantity here on this planet are dead bodies and political enforcers.”


Green brought his hands down to his lap and interlaced the fingers.  He then spoke again.


“And while the Nazis were supposed to have found ways of economically utilizing human remains, as far as we can tell there is no market off of your planet for soap made from human fat.  On the other hand, our plans for Freya require that we import a large number of political enforcers, which appear to be the only thing that any of your people appear to show any competence at.”


And Green had something else to say.


“And while our plans do require that we take control of their nuclear arsenal and eliminate the political and intellectual leadership on Freya, what’s in effect the ruling class, we do need to take the little people intact in order to make proper use of the existing industrial base.  That’s not going to be a problem, is it?”  He said.


Johnny thought for a moment, and then he answered.


“No.”  He said.  “No.  That won’t be a problem, as long as we can exterminate the descendants of Evelyn Stone, and get justice for President Null, that won’t be a problem.”


Johnny also had a request.


“And we want some of those nukes for ourselves.”


Green thought for a moment, and then he answered.


“Of course.”  He said.


Green was lying, there was no way in Hell that these black ass savages would be allowed to take possession of nuclear weapons.


It shouldn’t be too difficult to find a replacement for The Glorious Leader.  Thought Green.  There wasn’t any shortage of power tripping thugs on this planet.


Johnny again thought for a moment, and then he asked a question.


“Mister Green, do you have a conscience?”


“You?"  Douglas Green replied.  “You’re asking me that question?”


The Leader nodded.


“No.”  Douglas Green replied.  “I don’t.”


“Why not?”  Johnny asked.


Douglas Green sat back in his chair and clasped his hand together.


“Because a conscience is a mental device used by weak people to pretend that they’re morally superior.”  He replied.  “It’s a device that the inferior use to fraudulently pretend that they’re superior.”


The Leader nodded.


Douglas Green stood up and said one last thing before he departed.


“Have your people ready to go, right now, and do try to have a nice day.”


Yes.  Green thought as he walked out of the office.  The Glorious Leader will have to be replaced.
 

Homecoming (An Unfinished Story)

It was a cold and wet Monday morning in September of 2317 when two men with short and neatly cut hair and wearing dull casual civilian attire stepped off the transit car at the Edison Station in old Northeast Minneapolis.

Ensign Ian Stuart felt well out of place as he stood and waited for the swarm of students on their way to morning classes at the old Edison High School, to clear the station.

Ian recalled, with a sense of embarrassment, that he once dressed in a similarly absurd and alien fashion, as the teenagers crowding the station. He would have felt even more out of place if he and his companion had worn their full naval uniforms.

Members of the Armed Forces, the Navy and Marine Corps of the former Terran Confederation, were not terribly popular on the home world these days, especially the commissioned officers.

To wear the uniform in public, without being escorted by at least of a squad of Marines, was virtually an engraved invitation to being physically assaulted or killed.

Ensign Ian Stuart saw that most of the students disembarking at the station wore buttons showing a red line superimposed over the capital letters "ROM," the meaning of the buttons was crystal clear to any civilian, soldier, or able spaceman.

Down with the Rule of Man.

Too bad, Ian thought, the stupid and greedy politicians of Terra, and the voters who put them into office, had clearly demonstrated that they were unfit to exercise any form of political authority.

A few of the students, most with shaved heads, wore buttons depicting the ancient astrological symbol for Earth, the cross within a circle. The symbol was used by those who believed in the racial supremacy of the Terrans over all other intelligent species. Including those humans, such as the Vilani, whose ancestors were dumped by an unknown power on other planets hundreds of millennia ago.

The Terran Supremacists, like the German National Socialists of the Early Twentieth Century, sought to treat the so-called lesser races as virtual slaves and felt oppressed when their wishes were thwarted.

To Hell with them, Ian thought, to Hell with all of them.

"We should have taken a g-carrier." Said the Ensign's companion. "And a full squad of Marines, sir."

"If we only had one stop to make here I would, Chief."

Chief Petty Officer Barenni stood almost a full head over the Ensign and was more than twice as old. He was also one of the growing number of ethnic Vilani allowed to join the navy of the Terran Confederation. During the final years of the war against the Ziru Sirka, the interstellar empire of the Vilani, CPO Barenni was a member of the SURFER teams, the elite Surface-Extravehicular Reconnaissance forces of the Terran Navy. The Chief was now the senior noncommissioned officer on the Ensign's military government team.

One of the students, a boy wearing a red silken sash and a grotesque and high maintenance style of hair, had apparently caught part of the conversation between the Ensign and the Chief. The boy turned around and quickly went down the stairs to the ground level. Both the Ensign and the Chief saw this.

"Let's use the staves on this one, Chief."

"Sir, are you aware of the fact that the other ranks really aren't impressed by displays of studliness?"

"No shit Chief, I'm still using the staff."

"Aye-aye, sir."

The Ensign and the Chief both carried a navy issued 11.43 mm automatic pistols with two spare seven-round magazines under their jackets. They also carried surfer-staves, a quarterstaff compressed into a compact unit the size of two D-cell batteries.

The Ensign and the Chief were met at the bottom the stairs by a dozen boys in red sashes and other absurd attire. The gang was posturing as if they were the lords of the transit station and were collectively taunting the two men with accusations of treason and maternal incest. The closest of the boys presented an open switchblade knife in his right hand.

Stupid punks, thought the Ensign.

Ensign Stuart thumbed the extend button on his staff. His first blow smashed the punk's right hand and knocked the knife to the ground. The second blow caused the punk to bend forward and explosively exhale. The last blow struck laterally across the jaw causing a spray blood and teeth. The unconscious punk spun around and landed on the pavement with a loud thud.

Ensign Stuart had knocked down a second punk when the remnants of the gang turned and fled from the ground level of the transit station. Ensign Stuart turned around and saw that CPO Barenni was reholstering his pistol.

"I'm sorry sir, but I heard a police siren."

The Ensign could now hear the sirens of the approaching police grav-speeders.

"No Chief, you were right on that." He replied as he pressed his thumb on the retract switch on the surfer-staff.

"Sir, red wasn't your high school's color, was it?"

"No." Replied the Ensign. "If I recall correctly, the school colors at Edison High were Blue and Gold."

Though there was a history teacher who wanted to change the school colors to Hot Pink and Army Green.

Ensign Stuart looked around and was shocked at what he saw.

The Terran Naval Academy, from which Ian recently graduated, was co-located with the headquarters of the Terran Grand Fleet on a world that was once a sector capital of the Vilani Empire. Ethnic Vilani as a rule were normally fastidious, even after their liberation by the Terrans. Whether he was on or off campus, Ian was used to living in a neat and clean environment. It was not until the Ensign and Chief stepped outside the perimeter fence at Ventura Barracks on Earth that Ian saw litter on the ground for the first time in over four years. It was a beer can.

The more Ian Stuart looked around, the more strange and alien the world of his birth would appear to him.

Trash was scattered all over the floor of the lower level of the transit station. The walls had been defiled by urine stains and graffiti.

In addition to the crossed out letters "ROM," that were painted on the walls there were also the letters "DTT," which meant "Death to Traitors." There used to be buttons that read "DTT," but some of the individuals wearing those buttons came down with nasty cases of sudden lead poisoning. Marines and naval personnel who discharged their weapons in such incidents had the cost of the ammunition deducted from their pay and were quickly reassigned off of Terra or out of the Solar System.

The Ensign and the Chief had their navy identification cards out when the Minneapolis police arrived to clean up the mess.

[...]

"Sergeant," Ensign Stuart addressed the senior police officer present. "I would strongly suggest that you remind this garbage," the Ensign pointed the two handcuffed punks, "that even under the present state of Martial Law they still have the right to remain silent."

[...]

Ian mocked him in a whiny voice.

"Aber ich erteilte Auftrag!"

Ensign Stuart switched to a drill instructor tone of voice.

"Sergeant, you of all people should know that an order to commit a crime is NEVER a valid order. The Navy is not a band of looters and we do not take orders from looters, regardless of how many votes they received in the last election. Have I made myself clear?"

[...]

[Talk about the historic preservation mafia.]

Ian saw that the old bakery building at 22nd Avenue and Washington Street was boarded up again, another attempt to redevelop the property without demolishing the original single storey brick structure had failed.

Plastered all over the structure were posters showing a black and white photograph of a sixty-ish woman, with short fake blonde hair, a standard nine-millimeter service pistol was aimed at her head. The hammer of the pistol in the photograph was blurred as though it were falling on the firing pin.

Over the photograph on the poster in all capital letters was the one word, REMEMBER.

"I'm sorry sir," said the Chief as he pointed to the posters, "but I'm not fully familiar with that bit of Terran history."

"Well," Ian replied, "That's Saint Hillary, a martyr for the holy cause of Democracy. She was just a stupid old bitch who believed that being democratically elected somehow constituted an excuse for abusive and destructive behavior."

[...]

A long deceased cynic from Baltimore once described a democratic election as an advanced auction of stolen goods. The ghost of that cynic would not have been the slightest bit surprised by the results of the Terran election of 2314.

[...]

"Hello Mother." He said.

[...]

She still had her shrine to Saint Elvis.

[...]

"Usually assignments to newly commissioned Ensigns are handed out by staff pukes who really love their mothers."

[...]

"We can't even replace a burned out coffee pot on an aging missile frigate without some mob of Terran parasites screaming as if they were mortally wounded!" Ian had spoken in what he called the drill instructor voice. "The representatives, that pack of losers who couldn't hold a REAL JOB in the real world, that YOU and YOUR fellow voters sent to the General Assembly were too busy spending the tax revenues of this planet to buy votes for themselves while the Colonies and the worlds that WE liberated from the Ziru Sirka carried the burden of the wars."

[...]

The red sash gang was back. Seven of them were hiding in the boarded-up shell of the old municipal garage at Eighteenth and Washington. They poured out of the old building with their knives out and were attempting to surround the Ensign. Their apparent leader openly declared his intent to kill Stuart and reaffirmed his belief that the Ensign was a practitioner of maternal incest.

Ensign Stuart drew his pistol and placed a nonregulation 11.43 mm hollow-point round through the leader's chest. Stuart dropped three more of the junior thugs before the others could turn and flee. Two more gang members were hit and fell as they were running away. The last one ducked around the corner of the old city garage.

Stuart quickly switched to a fresh magazine and waited for the local police to arrive. He held his weapon in his right hand and pulled out his navy I.D. card with the left hand when the first police speeder came into view.

[...]

"Put that weapon down Sergeant."

"If you pull that trigger you will be hunted down and killed and what's left of your family will be shipped off to an airless rock in the Outback!"

[...]

"And your mother is probably doing whatever it was that you were afraid she would be doing, sir."

"We'll deal with her later, Chief."

The Ensign waited with the Chief for the Marine M.P.'s

[...]

There was one more stop that Ensign Stuart had to make before leaving Earth. He could have skipped the visit to his mother's house, but there was never any point in returning to Earth without seeing Beth.

On the day of his graduation from the Naval Academy, Ensign Ian Stuart had received a summons from the Shogun.

At 1030 hours the next morning Ensign Stuart stepped into the office of Hiroshi Estigarribia, the former Grand Admiral of the Terran Confederation Navy, who was now the self-proclaimed Regent of the Vilani Empire and the Protector of Terra.

"Ensign Ian Stuart reporting as ordered. Sir!"

[...]

"I have some news for you Ensign. Any damned fool can fly a frigate or a cruiser into harm's way, God knows we have no shortage of those." Said the Shogun. "But all those frigates and cruisers need to be maintained and ultimately replaced. And that requires naval stations, shipyards, and worlds with a civil industrial base to support them. And those worlds require proper government."

[...]

"You will be replacing a female civilian appointed by the Terran Secretariat, God only knows what damage she's already done out there."

"In effect, what you're saying sir, is that I may have to rebuild the local civil government in its entirety."

"That son, is a possible worst case scenario, but she should already have been removed from the office by the system commander by the time you get out there."

The Shogun paused to catch his breath.

"There's one other thing Mister Stuart, do you have a girlfriend or a fiancee?"

"Yes I do, sir." Ian replied. "I have a fiancee back home on Earth. I haven't heard from her since the coup."

"Mister Stuart," the Shogun looked at Ian straight in the eyes, "what would you do if I told you that you had to dump your Terran fiancee in order to stay in the navy?"

"I would have to hand you my bars," the small gold bars that were the Ensign's insignia of rank on the dirtside uniform, "and I would have to tell you to go to Hell, sir."

If the Shogun was impressed, he didn't show it.

"There was a wet navy admiral in the mid-twentieth century who used to eliminate spineless wimps with that question. Admiral Hyman Rickover of the American Navy if I recall correctly, sir."

The Shogun let out a slight chuckle.

"But you really would do that?"

"Yes sir, I would."

"Good." Said the Shogun. "It could be possible that your fiancee may be in agreement with the majority of Terran voters."

Ian shook his head at the Shogun's suggestion.

Of all the people on Terra, only Beth was there at the landing pad at Ventura Barracks to see Ian off when he left Earth to attend the Naval Academy. Her last kiss had virtually suffocated him.

"I would very strongly doubt that, sir."

"My staff also has grounds to believe that the civilian postal service on Terran is simply refusing to complete their appointed rounds with respect to letters to and from naval personnel. I have no idea how many casualties we may end up taking in attempting to clean up that particular mess."

"In any case Mister Stuart," the Shogun continued, "there's only one way for you to be certain about your fiancee."

"Yes sir, I'll have to go home to Terra."

Eight weeks and three transits through jumpspace later Ensign Ian Stuart stood before the front door of Beth's home. It was a two-storey white frame house on the north side of 17th Avenue between Adams and Jefferson Streets.

One of the younger sisters opened the door.

"Ian...you shouldn't..."

"I'm here to see Beth." Ian told her. "I will not leave until I do."

[...]

Ensign Ian Stuart reeked of blood, sweat, and smokeless gunpowder, and he wasn't about to take any more nonsense from anyone else.

"I've had a bad day. Do not make it worse sir."

[...]

"I will see Beth. Now." He said in the drill instructor voice. "If I have to go over your dead body, sir, I will do so. Do you understand?"

[...]

"Hello Beth." He said.

"Hello Ian."

They embraced, and they kissed.

"I've been assigned as the military governor of a world that's about two-thirds of the way between here and Vland." Said Ian. "I want you to come with me."

[...]

"It's called Sylea."