Nightmare, Part 4

Prime Minister Thomas Gratton had a guest.  But first he read the report on the police raid on the safe house.

Colonel Carl Graham sat in the office and was a mercenary and founder of the Military Assistance Corporation of Xenophon.  Colonel Graham was supposed to help the government of Kennedy with the Freyans.

Colonel Graham remembered his prior visit to Freya to sell his services as a mercenary.

He’d arrived on Freya in the first week of February and checked into a hotel in one of the suburbs of Landfall.  But he had to wait a full local day for the scheduled meeting with the defense secretary as all local government offices were closed on what would’ve been a normal business day.

Why was this?  He thought at the time.  Is it a national holiday?

Graham left the hotel early for the meeting and hailed one of the taxicabs waiting at the cab stand.  It was a Ford Galaxy sedan that had seen service as a police car and was now painted in the company colors of red and white.  The driver appeared to be entering middle age with glasses, a mustache, and a fringe of blond hair.  The driver wore his old style stainless steel M1911A1 in a shoulder holster.

The driver asked a question.

“Where to, sir?”

“The Planetary Government Center in Landfall.”

“There’re multiple buildings on the site,” said the driver, “so what department are you visiting?”

Graham answered.

“The Department of Planetary Security.”

“Okay.”  The driver replied.

The driver switched on the meter and electric motors hummed as the cab pulled away from the hotel.  But something about the way the driver responded to him seemed a bit odd to Graham.  It was as if he were speaking with a long term veteran soldier.

“Is there a problem?”  He asked the driver.

“No sir, it’s just that the Founders wanted to call it the War Department, but the groundhogs wouldn’t allow it.”

Graham responded.

“The Federation authorities?”

“Yes.”  The driver replied.

And then the driver asked his own question.

“Are you a writer, sir?”

“Yes.”  He replied.  “Of military theory for the most part, like works such as On War by Clausewitz.”

The driver’s response was a surprise to him.

“Vom Kriege by General Karl Maria Von Clausewitz.”  He said.  “I tried several times to read the complete Standard English edition and the damned thing always put me to sleep.”

“Well military theory isn’t for everyone.”  Graham curtly replied.

The driver quickly and clearly responded.

“The thing is that Clausewitz began to write at a time when Kant was barely cold in the ground and Hegel had just started his emissions.  At that time the intellectual culture in Germany was already in deep trouble with clarity and brevity already going out of style.”  

Graham hadn’t expected a lecture on intellectual history from a common working man.

But he responded.

“I wrote a book on military doctrine titled Future Forces: Organization and Doctrine.”

“I’ve read it.”  Said the driver.

“So how do you feel about it?”

“I think Colonel Gromov wrote a fairly good review of it.  He clearly understood how the citizens out here on the colony worlds would respond to an invasion by your Future Force but didn’t explain why colonists would resist.”

Graham sneered.

“Gromov, that moron.”

The driver solidly interrupted the sneer.

“I served with him when he was a battalion commander in Afghanistan and Pakistan, and we don’t give out Sky Blue Berets as promotional items, even to West Point graduates.”

“So you were in the Quarantine Force and then retired out here?”

“No.”  The driver replied.  “I enlisted here and served on Earth.”

“Why?”

The driver smiled before answering.

“Because that’s where the enemy combatants are.”

Graham thought for a moment and then spoke again.

“So you feel that the Quarantine Force are all true warriors?”

“Hell no!”  The driver suddenly snapped back.  “The goal of every warrior is to impose his will upon his victims.  And our mission in the Quarantine Force is to hunt down and kill warriors.”

Present tense.  Graham thought.  He spoke with hostility in the present tense.

Graham was now concerned for his own safety.

Is there a round in the chamber of his gun?  Graham thought.

The cab then entered the main drive of the Planetary Government Center and stopped in front of the DPS Building.  Graham paid the fare in cash and without a gratuity.

Colonel Carl Graham, the founder of the Military Assistance Corporation of Xenophon, found out during his meeting in Landfall that Freyans hated mercenaries.  Someone claiming to be an Objectivist objected to founding of the Quarantine Force.

In the office Colonel Graham read the report on what Freyans could do and then he spoke to the Prime Minister.

“One of the things that was pounded into our heads at West Point was that ‘It really helps when the enemy is being stupid.’  Your government on this planet has been stupid.  We can stop the Freyans when they get here, but it’ll be a bloody mess.”

Prime Minister Thomas Gratton replied.

“I’m just following the orders of the archbishop.”

Colonel Graham spoke back to the Prime Minister.

“Another thing we learned at West Point was that there’s no such thing as a valid excuse.”

“That’s not an excuse!”  Gratton replied.  “That’s a fact!”

“‘Reality is real’ as the Randroids used to say.”  Colonel Graham answered.

There was a speech made in a public square in the center of New Boston.  The speaker was a man with glasses and a fringe of blond hair who’d been recently fired as a security guard from the New Boston general hospital.

“Our ancestors were dumped on this planet by the founders of The Federation.  That’s right, our ancestors didn’t come here voluntarily.  Then our ancestors lost control of the world they were dumped on.  Some of our progressive ancestors were of Boston and New York Irish extraction, as a result some members of the Irish diaspora came here.  Then our ancestors lost political control of this world to a bunch of people who couldn’t pass a Turing test if they cheated on it.”

Some New Boston police officers fired on the speaker and some members of the crowd of people gathered to hear him.

The next morning Prime Minister Thomas Gratton read a report on what was being called the New Boston massacre by the media.

We’re losing control.  An uprising is happening.  Prime Minister Gtatton thought.  Does the archbishop understand this?

In the afternoon he had a meeting with ambassador from the planet March.  His basic message was that diplomatic relations between the planets were being cut off.

“Why?”  Asked Prime Minister Gratton.

“You’ve broken several of the basic laws of Humanity.”  replied the former foreign minister Cross.  “And you’ll pay the price for them, we’ll not be here when you do.”

The embassy of the planet March left the planet Kennedy.

Before diplomatic relations with March were terminated George Cross made one final visit to his family on Kennedy.  His last stop on the trip was in the home of Prime Minister Thomas Gratton.

In the kitchen Cross spoke.

“Randians, and Freyans are no exception, regard all religions without exception as pure nonsense and all prophets as being false.  There aren’t any churches or temples on Freya, not even storefronts.  What’s more likely, the overturning of the natural order, or that a young woman in a primitive society would tell a lie?  Islam is openly practiced in only two places, The State of Israel and the planet Masada.  Islam is practiced elsewhere under heavy restriction or openly suppressed by the Quarantine Force.  The city of Mecca and the Kaaba have been erased from the face of the Earth.  One of the reasons many worlds were granted independence by The Federation in the late Twenty Second Century was that the authorities believed that the Yellowstone Supervolcano was about to erupt.  It didn’t erupt, but The Federation authorities granted independence anyway.  One of the problems I had as foreign minister was apologizing for the actions of the government.  Has anyone in the cabinet ever asked if they were the actual bad guys?  Actions have consequences.  The planet Kennedy will pay those consequences.  The Freyans will always answer force with force.  Freyans also insist on being contrary, they’re the only people in the known universe to allow Stairway To Heaven to be played in their guitar stores.”

“Really?”  Asked Prime Minister Gratton.

“Yes, really.”  Replied George Cross.

The perpetrators of the New Boston massacre were tried and acquitted.  Then subsequently Police Captain Eric Merrill, one of the perpetrators of the New Boston massacre, was assassinated.  The words “A is A” were found spray painted at the snipers position.

In the government center in New Boston, the minister for religion, Bishop Paul Clark, walked into the prime ministers outer office.  The bishop spoke to the secretary and asked a question.

“Is the prime minister in?”

“Yes, your holiness.”  The secretary replied.

The bishop walked the main office and sat down.  Prime Minister Gratton was standing and looking out the picture window that overlooked the downtown basilica.  The prime minister spoke.

“I’ve lost another foreign minister.  The last thing he asked before resigning was ‘are we the bad guys?’”

Evelyn Stone once said that revolutions and civil wars happen because the rulers are being stupid.  Thought the prime minister.  Are we being stupid?

Multiple worlds had terminated diplomatic relations with the planet Kennedy.

The minister for religion replied.

“Of course not, we’re the righteous.  The Freyans will be stopped.”

The prime minister spoke.

“The Federation won’t stop them.  The Pope himself went to the federal capital in Omaha and begged for an intervention.  The president refused.”  Gratton replied.

The minister for religion replied.

“God himself will stop that Godless filth.  God is on our side.”

In a safe house several Freyans were watching Ice Station Zebra a movie about a confrontation on the northern ice pack between the Americans and Soviets involving a nuclear submarine.

Judith Stern spoke.

“Of course Rock Hudson is an actor, all he ever played were straight guys.”

Corporal Diaz replied.

“You’ve quoted Evelyn Stone.”

“Of course I have.”  Said Judith.

While the frigate was in the high guard position during refueling at a gas giant the commander of the Freyan task force, Commodore Lilith Keller, held an inspection and had dinner aboard the RFS Loan.  Commodore Keller transferred from the flagship RFS Evelyn Stone with a cutter and stepped though the starboard airlock of the ship.  Commodore Keller wore a nametape with the name Keller embroidered with yellow thread above the right pocket of her dark blue shipboard jumpsuit and she wore a nametape with the words R.F. NAVY embroidered above the left pocket.  Commodore Keller didn’t wear any ribbons as at this time she only earned commodation medals.  Commodore Keller did wear the badge of the SURFace Extravehiclar Reconnaissance team, the Freyan navy SURFER team, which was the equivalent of the old American navy SEAL team.  The main course of the dinner was fettuccine Alfredo with broccoli and roasted chicken with the desert being Chocolate Marshmallow ice cream.  There was a discussion of history during dinner.

“We think of Washington as a beautiful city.  Apart from the hills the site the city was built on what was basically a swamp out in the middle of nowhere.  Which tells us what the founders of the American republic really thought of the national government.  Evelyn Stone a serious disagreement with Christopher Hitchens,” said Commodore Keller, “he wouldn’t have bothered to call a cab if someone in holy orders showed up at his front door to see a child.  And Stone also disagreed with Hitchens in not calling those who opposed him as Fascists.”

 Commander Glasgow asked a question.

“Why do we have to go on this mission?”

Commodore Keller answered the question.

“Because most politicians are concerned with three things, getting elected, getting reelected, and getting laid.  If he does the correct thing Thomas Gratton won’t get reelected, so we must resort to force.”

Commodore Keller had other things to say.

“Believers of evil doctrines believe they’re good people.  Hitler, Stalin, and Mao, were ordinary men, it’s the followers that gave them power, and most of them believed they were good people.  It's easy to refute someone when they insist on being wrong.  All one has to do is tell the truth but someone can't refute anyone when the other person insists on being right.  That's why the partisans of tyranny always advocate censorship.  Tyrannical states always fail.”

Commodore Keller had one last thing to say during dinner.

“Those who value power will go to war to get it.  To those who value power over all else, no act is too depraved and no bodycount is too high.  Those who make war on us will die, it’s that simple.”

There were two more assassinations.  Two police sergeants who participated in the New Boston Massacre were shot by sniping by the locals.  The words “A is A” were found spray painted at both of the snipers position.

There’s a revolt and we’re losing control.  Thought Prime Minister Thomas Gratton.

Prior to her kidnap by the state Judith Stern had only fired twenty two caliber guns and an Ishapore 2A1, which was the Short Magazine Lee-Enfield Mark 3* chambered in the 7.62 x 51 millimeter NATO round and made in a Indian arsenal.  Judith never used a Marine ACR until the New Boston police tried to place them under arrest at a safe house.

In New Boston an aide, a junior officer in the Kennedy Space Guard, spoke to Colonel Graham.

“The Freyans are here.  There are numerous flashes of light a million kilometers away from the planet.”

Graham had brought forty five fighter spacecraft from Xenophon.  Three squadrons of basic fighters to face the Freyan navy along with the Space Guard cutters.  Colonel Graham spoke.

“Launch the cutters and fighters.”

Colonel Graham also brought a regular lift infantry brigade from the army of Null to descend on the Freyans when they landed on the planet.  The planet Null in the Procyon system was originally named for the civil rights activist Martin Luther King, Junior.  After the planet was granted independence by The Federation the name was changed to Null, after Lawrence Null, the last Jackass president legitimately elected before The Reformation.  The uniforms and rank insignia of the army of Null were derived from those used by the Null Boys during The Reformation.

Like most Racial Collectivists the brigade from Null murdered those they thought of racially inferior.  One of the tactics they used was in imitation of the Einsazgruppen on the Ostfront.  All the men and teenage boys were shot, with the women and children were stuffed into wooden buildings.  Then the buildings were set on fire.  Those murders were retaliated for by the local resistance.

A First Sergeant from Null shouted to the men in his company as a response.

“Let’s go out and kill some Crackers!”

There was the assassination of numerous ground pounders from Null by the local resistance.  The infantrymen from the planet Null were seen as off world occupiers, this resulted in an ongoing race war on Kennedy.

It took the better part of an hour for the fleet to emerge from hyperspace.  The fleet generally took the form of a sphere, with the escorts on the outside and the Marine transports with the carrier on the inside.  On the bridge of the carrier RFS Evelyn Stone Commodore Keller spoke.

“The type two weapons remain on the ships.  Launch the fighters.”

The type two weapon was a missile that had a five kiloton boosted fission warhead.  Including the Marines there were 60 fighters on the RFS Evelyn Stone.  The carrier was an unstreamlined ship and the fighters launched directly into space.  The fighters of the Kurnass model were 196 cubic meters in volume and had a two man crew with six missiles and a laser cannon.

Commodore Keller on her command deck watched as the Freyan fleet jumped into the Alpha Centauri system and her fighters launched.

Aboard the main Marine transport the Colonel in command of the Marines spoke.

“The rough part begins now.”  Said Marine Colonel Al Klein as he and his staff boarded the landing boat.

Colonel Graham had combat experience. For Colonel Graham the operation on the planet Vance had gone off without flaw and with no casualties for his men.  The objective of this operation was a small mining town on one the minor outer colony worlds.

Vance was a barely habitable and tidally locked moon of a Jovian class gas giant that in turn orbited a red dwarf star.  The initial settlement had served as a way station for the exploration and colonization of better worlds further out from Earth.  But a more detailed survey of the world had found recoverable minerals in the platinum group and a rare earth element used in the manufacture of hyperdrives.

The world was named for John Vance, an Australian astronaut employed by the Martian Relocation Project.  Although the Martian Relocation Project had set up their own outpost on this world they also opened it to settlement by dissident groups from Earth.  What made the military operation possible was the fact that not all of the settlements had joined the newly independent central government.  But for Colonel Graham this action was also a step forward in the recovery from two disasters.  The minor and most recent was the defeat of the unit that left him with a bit less than three hundred effective soldiers out of was once a first class mercenary regiment.

The first part of operation was a night march through the forest bordering Federal Republic of Vance and the dissident colony of Vermillion.  The march to the objective was illuminated by the reflected light of the gas giant planet that was permanently fixed on the southern horizon.  The objective of the operation was the town of Runoff and the mining sites surrounding it.  Which was a cluster of homes, small businesses, and offices.  Very few of the people were awake at the time and once the mercenaries were in position their unit simply walked in and seized the town.

With the streets, the government buildings, and the local militia armory of the town secured Graham ordered the transmission to the client of the code for the successful mission.  But as Graham waited for arrival of the sponsors there was unfinished business to be dealt with.

Graham sat at the official desk as the Mayor of Runoff was dragged in.  The Mayor was barefoot, unshaven, and hastily dressed.  He looked around the room and shook his head before speaking to his captor.

“So you think you’re special?”

“We’re professional soldiers.”

“You’re only criminals.”  The Mayor replied.  “Did you kill anyone yet?”

“No.”  Graham replied.

There was no resistance from the police or any of the civilians that were awake.

So much for the sea of armed civilians.  Graham thought.

The Mayor looked directly at Graham and spoke.

“Then if you leave right now and cross the border back into Vermillion you and your unit may yet get away.”

Graham mentally dismissed the statement and placed a document on the desk before the Mayor.

“Sign it.”  Said Graham.

The Mayor briefly scanned it and then replied.

“No.”  Said the Mayor.  “You’re nothing, you have no authority and thus no power over any of us.”

Graham stared at the Mayor for a moment.

How can he say that?  He thought.

“I can have you shot.”  Graham replied.

The Mayor looked Graham straight in the eyes and then calmly replied.

“I’m sure you could, in that case you’ll actually become something, it would only be a diseased animal that should be put down quickly.”

Graham could not believe what he had just heard.

Is he insane?  Graham thought.

The Mayor spoke again.

“Now you should lay down your arms, go home, grow up, and get a life.”

For Graham and his men this wasn’t possible, there wasn’t any place they could call a home.  With the refusal to sign the surrender document Graham sent the Mayor downstairs to the town jail with the police officers that were on duty and other elected officials.

In the afternoon a grav vehicle arrived in the town with two well dressed civilians.  The first man represented the sponsor of the operation, the Superior Mining Company, and the other was a civilian officer of the “official” central government of the planet.  Superior Mining Company originated on the Iron Range of Minnesota in the late 19th Century and the firm had barely survived into the Interstellar Era.  But under new management the firm would expand again by exploiting the resources found on the colony worlds and shipping them back to Earth.  At the same time the Federal Army of the planet Vance arrived on scene.

The commander of the army spoke to Colonel Graham.

“You believe that we won’t fight because you’re holding something valuable?”

“Right.”  Replied Colonel Graham.

The Federal Army of Vance had retaken the town of Runoff by force.  Colonel Graham and the survivors of the regiment and crossed the border back into Vermillion.   The Federal Army then unified the planet by force.  The Federal Republic of Vance later joined the Ursa Major Confederation.

Carl Graham was now wanted by the Freyans on Kennedy and he had no choice but to fight.

As the Freyan relief fleet transited to the planet Kennedy a diplomatic ship jumped to Earth.  James March was met at Phoenix Starport by Beth Adams and spoke.

“You’re it.”  He said to Beth.

“What?”  She responded.

March spoke to Beth.

“You’ve been confirmed by the Senate as permanent ambassador to the Federation, I’m to be your second.”

Freyans, like most Randians, were rational people.  Freyans could also be emotional.  James March would eventually marry Beth Adams.  For the time being at the starport they hugged.

A merchant ship jumped from Alpha Centauri B to the Solar System.  Doctor Fuller finished her internship on Kennedy.  She had enough of the insanity that ruled the planet Kennedy.  She obtained a position in the Emergency Room at the Abbot-Northwestern Hospital in Minneapolis north of Lake Street.  The Twin Cities in Minnesota existed because the natural upper limit of navigation on the Mississippi River was near downtown Saint Paul.  With the main source of water power, the Saint Anthony Falls, near to downtown Minneapolis.  An archbishop attempted to merge the Twin Cities and bought property for the Catholic Church in the Midway area of Saint Paul.

Another merchant ship jumped from Alpha Centauri B to the Solar System.  Prime Minister Thomas Gratton placed his wife and two sons on the ship to Earth.

Douglas Green was a governmental lawyer and traveled a lot.  The front page of the London Times proclaimed that the Freyans had dropped into the Alpha Centauri system off the planet Kennedy and were using nuclear weapons.  Even though the action was 4.27 light years away and a week ago, Green was now unemployed.  His first job interview was in a pub just off of Trafalgar Square.  The interview was with a junior member of the committee and she was Diana Windsor, a blonde woman in her thirties.

She spoke.

“Stone used to indulge his love of cheeseburgers at a restaurant in the southern part of Edina in Minnesota.”

Green responded.

“Stone celebrated the alleged discovery of cold fusion by taking some friends to that restaurant.”

“I need a job.”  Green said.

“What can you do?”  Windsor asked.

“I fix things.”  Green answered.

Green got a job with the committee.

When the Freyans arrived Prime Minister Gratton witnessed a glowing mushroom cloud rising over the starport.  The brigade, battalion, and company headquarters of the brigade from Null also each received a nuke.  On live television the bodies of the archbishop with two senior nuns were hung upside down at a methanol and recharging station in New Boston.  Also on live television there was the image of the downtown basilica in New Boston on fire.

Bishop Paul Clark was placed under arrest by Marine Sergeant Major Emil Hastings.

Marine Sergeant Major Hastings shouted.

“Marines! Place Clark under arrest!”

Two Marine sergeants charged at Clark.  As he was knocked down to the ground Marine Sergeant Major Hastings stepped over to him and spoke.

“Paul Clark, you’re under arrest for the crime of kidnaping a minor, this is a capital offense.  You have the right to remain silent and the right to counsel.  And if you can’t afford one then an attorney then one will be provided for you.  Do you understand?”

Clark shouted.

“YOU’LL BURN IN HELL FOR THIS!”

Marine Sergeant Major Hastings responded.

“Absolutely no way, asshole.  Let’s go.”

The Marine sergeants handcuffed and picked Clark up off the ground and followed Marine Sergeant Major Hastings to a detention area.

Prime Minister Gratton was also placed under arrest by the Freyan Marines.  Freyan Marines landed in front of the safe house that Judith Stern and the Marines that rescued her were staying.

A charred human form crawled out of the ruins of the starport.

Colonel Graham in his command post witnessed as the Freyan fleet jumped into the Alpha Centauri system.  Colonel Graham in his command post saw as his fighters and space guard cutters lift off.  Colonel Graham in his command post watched as his fighters and space guard cutters were vaporized by the Freyan navy.  Colonel Graham in his command post watched as the Freyan navy task force transited to the planet and launched a spread of missiles.  The spaceport was one of sites on the planet that was nuked.

Colonel Graham ultimately died from his burns.

President Veronica Sterling of the Freyan Republic watched from her office in the presidential residence as 10 Ursae Majoris B set on the horizon.

Are we the bad guys in objective reality?  She thought.

Freyans in general, and her ancestors like Evelyn, often asked themselves this question.  There’s never been a record of any member of Center of Eternal Truth asking themselves this question.  Eternals thought of themselves as superior and infallible beings, but they ultimately failed in the end.

The refusal to ask this question has led to much bloodshed.  President Sterling thought.  The refusal to question ones own beliefs has led many people to become monsters.

On the command deck of the RFS Evelyn Stone a staff officer ranked as a Navy Captain spoke.

“The Marines have boarded.  The recovery teams and our special passenger have also boarded and our prisoners are in cryosleep.”

“Break orbit and go home.”  Commodore Keller said.

“Aye, aye, ma’am.”  The staff officer replied.

Last week Sergeant Morrison was a member of the planetary defence forces.  This week Sergeant Morrison was a member of the resistance.

“There’re some infantrymen from Null in those woods!”  Another member of the resistance said as he pointed to a set of woods.

“You want me to drop mortar shells on them?”  Sergeant Morrison replied.

“Yes.”  The resister answered.

Sergeant Morrison was the head of a mortar platoon of the resistance.

“Set up the mortars!”  Sergeant Morrison ordered his platoon.

The former civilians that made up the members of his platoon set up four 81 millimeter mortars.

“We’re ready, sir!”  A mortar man shouted.

“Drop rounds on those woods!”  Sergeant Morrison shouted and pointed.

The mortar men dropped two rounds down each barrel.  The infantrymen from Null stopped firing.

“It looks like the grunts from Null stopped firing.”  Said Sergeant Morrison.

“Right.”  The Resistance Battalion commander replied.

“Let’s go forward.”  He said.

A new constitution of the planet Kennedy followed the Federation charter in forbidding religious indoctrination and persecution as well as censorship.  Numerous people in the government on the planet were suddenly and violently unemployed.

What Day Is It?

 It's the International Talk Like A Pirate Day!  (Or in Traveller, it's Talk Like An Ethically Challenged Merchant Day.)

And that means it's time for get in touch with your inner pirate.  (And who doesn't want to get in touch with their inner pirate?)  Once you've gotten in touch with your inner pirate, the job isn't over.  Remember to consult the Affirmations for your Inner Pirate:

Stuart Smalley's Daily Affirmations for the Inner Pirate

Monday:

"I'm going to rape and pillage today just for the heck of it because, gosh darn it, I deserve to have a good time."

Tuesday:

"I am not a fraud, a thief yes, but not a fraud."

Wednesday:

"I deserve all the loot and booty I can carry without feeling ashamed or being grandiose."

Thursday:

"I will express my feelings today. I will not hide them behind my eyepatch. My eyepatch is not a mask for my feelings, but rather a small swatch of leather that covers a hideous scar."

Friday:

"When I overtake that merchants vessel, I will not be playing those parent tapes in my head: "You wield a cutlass like a girl" . . . "Why can't you be more like Blackbeard's son?" . . . "Philosophy? What kind of major is that? It's useless!"

Saturday:

"Just because I indulge in wine and wenches does not mean I'm an alcoholic sex-addict like my father."

Sunday:

"If I must violently put down a mutiny today, it is not because I am a bad person or that I am not worthy of love; it is because my crew are a bunch of yellow-bellied, lily-livered sons-of-whores--and I am mean enough, ruthless enough, and dog gone it, people fear me."

transcribed by James R. Torrence.

Arrrrrr...

Incarnations

 The greatest avalanche begins with the slightest movement of the smallest pebble.

The replacement designated JOY UNIT 61-182-21 was deliberately entering a state of deep trouble by disobeying the orders of her guardian.

On the first night of the flight out from Earth she had been directed by her guardian to remain in the luxury suite aboard the liner Freyaspace Reliable for the duration of the voyage and to remain naked except the gold bands of her status around her neck, wrists, and ankles.

At the first opportunity she consciously chose to not obey the order.

The chief bodyguard of the guardian, a Xenophonian mercenary had gone to sleep.  This was contrary to the orders given by his employer.  He was to keep watch on the joy unit and prevent her from leaving the suite.  She took this moment of slackness as an opportunity to escape.  She found and donned her pea green colored transfer suit.  She wore the suit during the transfer from the home of her guardian in the newly rebuilt city of Chicago to his suite aboard the liner in Earth orbit and it was all she had to wear at this time.  To be safe she put on the full head cover, which kept her hair in place during free fall conditions and only showed her face.

She checked her makeup before leaving the suite.  It appeared to be modestly applied.  Or that it would appear to be insufficiently applied by the standards of her trainers and her guardian.

She silently opened the door to the suite.  She slowly emerged from the suite and saw no one in the corridor of the luxury deck on the liner.  She then closed the door with a gentle click.  She started to move slowly down the corridor.  She felt slight more than one tenth the force of gravity she’d felt on Earth.  If her recollection was correct, the sick bay she saw on the safety tour of the liner that was required of all the passengers should be two decks down on the vertically oriented ship.

Perhaps someone on staff could help her there.  All she had to do now was to find the stairs down.

As she gained confidence in moving down the corridor a cabin door opened ahead of her.

She stopped. She was now afraid.

A young man stepped out of the suite.  Like her he had blond hair and blue eyes, but without the high class nose she was designed with.  He was dressed correctly for dinner, in all black, but with an emphasis on practical comfort over flash in style.  His hair was slightly longer than the military standard, parted on the left, and cut for comfort instead of the current fashionable youth style.   And he stood in the corridor not as if he were an inexperienced youth but as a very experienced man.

He didn’t fit in any category of persons she was programmed to identify.  And he appeared to be only four years older than her.

The young man looked at her and spoke.

“Hello.”  He said to her with an upper Midwest American accent.  Specifically from Old Minnesota on Earth.  With the one word she perceived that his voice was not of an inexperienced youth of eighteen years but clearly that of a fully mature and experienced adult.

She was speechless.

“Is there a problem, Miss?”  He said.

He slowly stepped toward her.  He walked as if he were completely familiar with moving in the slightly more than one tenth internal gravity of the accelerating ship.

She hesitated to answer.

“No.”  She replied.

The young man stopped.  He looked straight at her eyes and spoke again.

“You have a problem,” he said, “and you wish to solve it yourself?”

She thought for a moment, and then answered.

“Yes,” she said, “I need to go to the sick bay.”

He nodded, and then replied.

“Okay,” he said, “if you’d follow me, please.”

She hesitated, and then spoke again.

“I don’t mean to trouble you.”

The young man quickly responded.

“It’s no trouble at all,” he said, “I own the ship.”

He then looked at her head cover, and spoke again.

“And we’re under acceleration,” he said, “so you don’t need to wear that awful head cover.”

He stood still, as if he were waiting for her to take it off.  As he was the owner of the ship he would come to know her true status immediately.  There was no point in continuing to wear the cover.

She opened the front under the chin and lifted the cover off of her head.  The gold status band on her neck became visible.

He saw the band on her neck, and then spoke.

“You’re a joy unit?”

“Yes.”  She replied.  “How did you know?”

“You’re wearing the gold slave collar and you’ve more makeup on you than a Hennepin Avenue hooker.”

She had no idea what a Hennepin Avenue hooker was.  She pointed to the collar and replied defensively.

“It’s a status band.”

He briefly shook his head and then spoke.

“Status band is a polite euphemism for a slave collar.  But then the word replacement in present Terran society is a polite euphemism for a slave.  And the word guardian is a polite euphemism for a slave owner.”

His voice then took on a hard edge.

“Which in a real society is a polite euphemism for a piece of subhuman garbage fit only for extermination. But that’s only my opinion.”

The young man asked another question.

“Does the collar have a monomolecular filament for cutting off the head by remote control?”

“Yes.”  She replied.

She remembered when an older and used up joy unit which had been returned to the manufacturer had been brought in to demonstrate the function of the termination system to the newly hatched units.  The creche supervisor pressed the button, and head, hands, and feet of the demonstration unit were suddenly severed by the single molecule thread in each band as they each shrunk to a single point of matter.  Blood sprayed out from the neck, wrists, and ankles of the used up unit.

All of the newly hatched joy units in the room, including her, screamed and cried at the sight of the demonstration of the device.  She remembered the event as though it happened yesterday.

The young man nodded.  And then he spoke.

“We do have the tools for removing it down in the sick bay, let’s go down there.”  He said.   “Now.”

As both of them walked down the corridor he asked her a question.

“Were you ever given a proper name?”

“No.” She replied.

“People have proper names.”  He said. “You’re a person.  That’s another thing we’ll have to work on.”

As they made their way to the stairs a cabin door opened behind them.  The chief bodyguard stepped out into the corridor.  He saw the young man and the young woman and shouted.

“YOU!  STOP!”

The mercenary began to run down the corridor.  But he lacked experience in moving in a low gravity environment and with his first step arced upwards into the ceiling.

“Idiot.”  Said the young man.

As the mercenary slowly dropped back to the deck the young man drew a mass driver pistol from a holster under the left shoulder and carefully stepped forward to the point of the mercenary’s impact.  He solidly locked the sights of his pistol on the mercenary’s head as he carefully stepped forward.

The young man shouted at the mercenary with the voice of military experience and authority.

“STAY DOWN! REMAIN ON THE DECK!”

The mercenary looked up to see what appeared to be a toy pistol aimed directly at his head.  It appeared to be a single unit in dark gray plastic without a separate slide and frame, or an ejection port for the expended cartridge.  The bore of the pistol appeared to be smaller than the bore of a standard training weapon.  And the authority of the young man’s voice mattered not at all to the mercenary.  What did matter was that the voice that carried the accent of a citizen of the planet Freya, the mortal enemies of what remained of the Xenophonian people.  He wasn’t about to surrender to what his own eyes obviously saw as a young punk with a toy pistol from Freya.

The mercenary pushed himself off the deck.  The young man pulled the trigger of the driver pistol. The four millimeter projectile, made of depleted uranium with a stainless steel jacket, made only a supersonic crack in the air before it struck the mercenary in the center of the forehead, tumbled within his braincase, and sprayed his blood and brain matter out from the back of his head.  The remains of the mercenary dropped to the deck.

An alarm automatically sounded throughout the ship. And a telephone rang in the young man’s coat pocket.

He pulled it out and answered.

“Yes, Captain.”  He said.  “There’s been a deadly force incident on passenger deck one with one man down.  He’s dead. Send up the clean up crew.  And please have the thread cutter kit in sick bay ready to go.  I’m bringing the patient down right now.”

The young man pocketed the phone returned his weapon to the holster.

“Let’s go.”  He said.

As the young woman and the young man went down two flights of stairs she asked him a question.

“That was a Xenophonian warrior, how could ... how could you kill him?”

He thought for a moment, and then answered.

“The Xenophon Mercenary Corporation, what’s left of them, are nothing more than a band of thugs with the delusion of superhuman superiority.”  He said.  “Shooting them is neither an ethical or a technical problem at all.”

She accepted the answer.

The sick bay was on a crew quarters deck.  There were three women in hospital scrubs and white lab coats already waiting for them there.

The young man introduced them.

“Miss, this is the ship’s doctor, Doctor Hart, her assistant Nurse Church, and my personal physician, Doctor Adams.”

He then turns to speak to the medical staff.

“This young lady was a sex slave brought aboard by a moron from Earth.  We need to cut off the collar and the other bands.”

All three of the women nodded. And then Doctor Adams spoke.

“Evelyn, you need to step back.”

“Right.”  He replied as he complied with his own doctor’s request.

Doctor Adams closed the curtain around the examination table.  Evelyn listened as the staff helped the young lady out of her transfer suit and into a hospital gown.

When they were finished Doctor Adams opened the curtain.

The young woman was sitting on the examination table. Doctor Hart placed the cutting device on the neck band under the right ear.

“Are you ready?” She said to the young woman.

The young woman was shaking.  She was clearly in a state of fear when she replied.

“They ... they ... terminated an old unit ... at the facility ... with all five bands ... there was blood everywhere.”

Evelyn responded with a question.

“They murdered a woman to demonstrate the system?”

“Yes.”  She replied.

Evelyn nodded and then asked another question.

“You are afraid that the other bands will function when we cut the neck band?”

“Yes.” She said.

“Well,” said Evelyn, “the worst thing that could happen to you now if that happens is that we’ll put your hands and feet into deep freeze and place you in hibernation and then surgically reattach everything when we return to Freya.”

The young woman stopped shaking.

“It will hurt like Hell, but you’ll live.”  He said.

The young woman nodded.

Doctor Hart spoke.

“Are you ready?”

The young woman replied.

“Yes.”

Doctor Hart nodded and then pressed down on cutting device.  The device made a loud click sound and the collar fell away to her shoulders. The other bands didn’t react.  There was no blood spraying all over the sick bay.

“Well then,” said Evelyn, “monomolecular threads are damned expensive.”

As Doctor Hart was positioning the cutter on the right wrist Nurse Church spoke up.

“This person will need a name.”  She said.  “We can’t keep on addressing her as ‘hey you.’”

“Of course.”  Evelyn replied.

The cutter clicked again.  The wrist band fell away.  A tattoo on the inner side of the right wrist was now in full view.  The tattoo was of a corporate logo and the characters, “JOYUNIT 61-182-21.”

Evelyn recognized the logo.  He spoke to the young lady.

“It appears that you’re a product of the Grande-Sinjoro Corporation.”  He said.  “I should send a nice present to one of their future board meetings.”

“A present?”  Said the young lady.

“What did you have in mind?”  Asked Doctor Adams.

“A ten kiloton suitcase nuke.”  He replied.

Doctor Hart cut off the band on the left wrist.

“I thought ours were rated at twenty kilotons?”  She said.

“Whatever.”  Said Evelyn.  “As long as it works.”

The young woman spoke up.

“What’s a suitcase nuke?”

Evelyn answered.

“It’s a very efficient and a very concealable way to kill a lot of very bad people.”

Doctor Hart had finished positioning the cutter on the left ankle when she spoke.

“The patient does need a proper name.” She said. “‘Jane Doe’ isn’t going to cut it.”

“Jane Doe?”  Said the young woman.

Evelyn answered.

“The police would traditionally use that name in their documents for a female victim whose name wasn’t known to them.”

Doctor Hart cut off the left ankle band.

Doctor Adams spoke to the young woman.

“You do strongly resemble Princess Diana.”

“Who?”  Said the young woman.

Evelyn answered.

“Diana Spencer, she was born a bit over three centuries ago.  She was named after a pagan goddess of the hunt.  She was a naive young lady who was used by the British royal family as a walking womb and then dumped.  After the divorce she was killed in a completely senseless ground traffic accident.  I never met her during my first incarnation. And I was already on Mars when her sole surviving son was elected to be the second President of the Federation.”

Nurse Church spoke up.

“Someone may have saved a copy of her genome on file.”

Evelyn replied.

“Or, given the state of ethical degeneration I’ve seen on Earth, it’s possible that a walking piece of garbage may have desecrated her grave to obtain a DNA sample.”

Doctor Hart then cut off the band on the right ankle.

“There.”  She said.  “We’re finished.”

The young woman stood up.  Free at last.

She thought for a moment.  And then spoke.

“I like the name, Diana.”

Everyone nodded.  Evelyn replied.

“Well then, your name is Diana, you now have a proper name.”

Evelyn’s phone rang in the coat pocket.

“Just a moment.”  He said.  “I need to answer this.”

Evelyn stepped away from the table to answer the phone.

“Yes.”  He said.

The voice on the line was the captain of the ship, Deborah Hausa.

“Sir, we have a hostage situation in the main dining room.”

“I’ll be right down.”  He replied.

“Yes, sir.” Said Captain Hausa.

He turned to the ladies in the sick bay and spoke.

“We have another emergency. Someone is being really stupid.  I’ll be right back.”

The main dining room was two decks down.

Diana asked a question.

“What did he mean when he said someone is being really stupid?”

Doctor Adams answered.

“With Evelyn it means that whoever caused the problem is already dead.”

Diana had another question.

“And he said something about having a first incarnation?”

Doctor Adams answered.

“The original version of Evelyn Alexander Charon spent most of the last two centuries in cryogenic stasis.  A bit over eight standard years ago we cloned him.  We then thawed out the original person and copied his mind and memories into the new body.  We call it reincarnation by technological means.  It’s similar to the process by which you were created, but used in an ethically proper fashion.”

Diana had another question.

“What happened to the original Evelyn Alexander Charon?”

Doctor Adams smiled.

“He’s undergoing a current state of the art aging control treatment.”  She said. “ And unlike his duplicate he’s being a complete grouch about it.”

“May I ask one more question?”  Said Diana.

“Yes.” Said Doctor Adams.

“Does Evelyn always come to someone’s rescue?”

Doctor Adams answered directly.

“When he was growing up in his first incarnation he usually played a paladin in Dungeons And Dragons.”

“What’s Dungeons And Dragons?”  Diana asked.

On the dining room deck the second incarnation of Evelyn Alexander Charon met Captain Hausa in the corridor outside the dining room.

Captain Deborah Hausa was in her midforties in age and statuesque in build and one of the rare Freyans who was directly descended from a native African, her paternal grandfather.

“Situation?”  He said.

Captain Hausa looked at the notepad she was holding.

“Douglas Wolfe, the idiot who brought the sex toy aboard and his three remaining guards have taken three hostages with table knives in the dining room.”  She replied.  “We evacuated the remaining passengers to the corridor.”

Charon looked up and down the corridor.  Formally dressed passengers were seated on the deck or leaning with their backs against the walls.

“Any demands yet?”  He said.

“He wants his sex toy returned.”  Said Captain Hausa.  “And he wants to be returned to Earth.”

“Out of the question.”  He replied.

Captain Hausa nodded in agreement.

“Yes.”  She said.

One of the formally dressed passengers, seated on the deck, shouted to Hausa and Charon.

“Just give him what he wants!”  The elderly man said.

Evelyn Charon decided to point his right finger and reply to the old man with the full voice of authority.

“One more word and you won’t receive the standard refund for being a victim in a terrorist action!”

The old man was silenced.

Charon resumed his discussion with Captain Hausa.

“Let’s get the passengers back to their staterooms for now.”

“Yes, sir.”  Captain Hausa replied.

She gave to necessary orders to the staff on deck.

“Is there anything else I need to know about this group?”

“Yes, sir,” said Captain Hausa, “the three bodyguards are from the planet Hope.”

“And they’re guarding a slave owner?”

“Yes, sir.” She replied.

Hope, a world orbiting Procyon, was one of the first worlds outside the Solar System to be colonized. African-Americans, who generally didn’t fit into the main stream of Federation society, especially in North America, were very strongly encouraged to settle there.

“What we have here is a very serious belief check failure.”

“Sir,” said Captain Hausa, “they translated Mein Kampf into their primary dialect.”

“And the damned thing was bad enough in the original German.”  Charon replied.  “But it’s nice to know what psychological buttons to we have to push.”

Charon looked around.  The security team, four members of the crew who were now armed with optically sighted driver carbines, wore tactical vests over their normal shipboard uniforms, and wore tactical helmets, were standing on the deck waiting for their orders.

“Who’s the team leader?”

The nearest woman on the team replied.

“I am, sir.”

“Right,” said Charon, “I want you to place their leader under arrest, use a butt stroke if you have to.”

“Yes, sir!”

He spoke the other team members.

“You three, from left to right each of you will aim for the heads on each thug, on my command you will take them out.  Do you understand?”

They responded in the affirmative.

“Alright,” he said, “let’s dance.”

Charon slowly entered the dining room followed by the security team.

The three males from Hope each held an expensively dressed woman with a table knife at the throat.  Their employer was a young male in his mid-twenties, he had long and absurdly kempt hair and was dressed in the current youth fashion of Earth.

The employer turned to Charon and shouted.

“Who the fuck are you?”

Charon ignored the obscenity and replied.

“Evelyn Alexander Charon, Chairman of the Board of the Freyaspace Corporation, and you are?”

The three men from Hope became visibly nervous and started looking at each other for support. The employer replied.

“You know who the fuck I am!”

Charon refrained from smiling and replied.

“You apparently lack an understanding of basic courtesy.”

“Fuck that!  I want my bitch back and I want to go back to Earth!”

Charon shook his head.

“You also lack an understanding of basic ethics.  A person isn’t property. And I’m not going to start on the subject of astronautics.”

Wolfe pulled a small device with a visible red button out of a pocket.

“Fuck you!”  He shouted.  “Give me my bitch back or I’ll kill it!”

“Go ahead.”  Said Charon calmly.  “Push the button.”

Wolfe smiled as he pressed down on the red button.

“There!  Its dead!”  He shouted.  “What you gonna do now?”

Charon shook his head before calmly replying.

“Did you even bother to change the battery on the kill switch?  We already cut off the bands.  She’s now a free woman with a proper name.  And there’s nothing you or your connections on Earth can do about it.”

Charon now turned his attention to the three men from Hope.

“And you gentlemen, you should be ashamed of yourselves, being employed by a slave owner.”

“What you talkin’ about?”  The man in the middle responded.  “That cracker bitch don’t mean shit to us!”

“Of course not.”  Said Charon.  “Humans only mean something to humans.”

The man on the left shouted.

“Who the fuck are you to talk shit to us?”

Now Evelyn Alexander Charon smiled.

“You should already know who I am.”  He said.  “I was born eleven minutes and six seconds after President Kennedy was murdered in Dallas, Texas.  I was present in the United States when I saw that it was time for a change.  I Killed President Hope and his cabinet while the First Lady screamed in vain.  ‘Pleased to meet you, hope you guess my name.’”

All three of the men from Hope suddenly realized that the man deemed to be the incarnation of Lucifer, who in the history that was taught on Hope killed their leader and brought down their people centuries ago on Earth, was now standing before them.

They all released their hostages and began to charge forward towards Charon.

Charon shouted the order.

“Fire!”

All three driver carbines fired as if they were one.  All three of the men from Hope fell to the deck at the same time.

The security team leader now moved forward.  She spoke to Wolfe.

“Douglas Wolfe, you’re under arrest for the crime of enslavement, this is a capital crime.”

Wolfe shouted.

“Fuck you bitch!”

The team leader, in accordance to her training, swung the carbine.  With her left hand on the forward grip and her right hand grasping the stock she forcefully connected the butt of the weapon to Wolfe’s head.  He was knocked to the deck unconscious.

Captain Hausa stepped into the dining room.

She looked at the remains of the men from Hope.

“‘Those who dehumanize others only dehumanize themselves.’” She quoted.

“Well, I thought it was an obvious fact.” He replied.

“And you didn’t mention the time you saved the survivors of the State of Israel?”

“So file a complaint with the poet board.”  He replied.  “Let’s get this mess cleaned up.”

After the hostages were taken to the sick bay, the bodies were bagged, the mess cleaned up in the dining room, and the paperwork filled out, Evelyn Charon and Captain Hausa held a meeting in her office.

“We’re ready to dump the bodies.”  She said.

“I know you don’t like pushing dead mass, but I think we should make the jump to the Nowhere System first.”

“Why?”

“This is going to be a long answer.” He said.

“I’m listening.”

“In my experience those who believe they are exempt from the law, as with narcissists like Mister Wolfe, often do so because they have a connection within the government, or what now passes for a government on Earth.  That connection will now be used against us.  And we’ll be the ones treated as criminals.”

“But we’re in the right.”  She said.

“With narcissists right and wrong are irrelevant.  What matters to them, and only what matters, is that we submit to their will.”

“Just like Islam.”  She replied.

“Yes.”  He said.  “Just like Islam.”

Captain Hausa thought for a moment.

“If the opposition goes fully Soviet on us,” she said, “they’ll manufacture evidence to use against us, it won’t matter if we dump the bodies now or not.”

“I can see that.”  He replied.  “Let’s dump the bodies then.

“Yes, sir.”

Captain Hausa had another question.

“How does this effect the underground space line?”

“Aversely, I would think.”  He replied. “Very adversely.”

On this run alone there were already twelve escaped slaves traveling in secret on the hibernation deck.

“I’m afraid this incident may cause us to curtail further transport operations from Earth.”  He said.  “It’s too bad there aren’t any independent ship owners who could take up the load.”

Captain Hausa had a thought.

“The company still has ships in storage from the time of the big lift from Mars.  We could reactivate some of those ships as part of an independent space line and flag them from another independent planet.”

He looked directly at her.

“Do you think you can pull it off?”

“I know I can.”  She said with confidence.

“Please have the proposal in writing before we reach home.”

“Yes, sir.”

Charon had another thought.

“This situation will become much uglier.”

“In what way, sir?”

“Those who believe themselves to be superior beings hate to held to a valid moral standard, for example the National Socialists in Germany.”  He said. “ And they violently express their rage not only at those who hold them to the moral standard, but also those who’re conveniently in range.”

“Yes.”  Said Captain Hausa.

“The people in the support network on Earth are clearly in danger.”  He said.  “It’s time to evacuate the last good people on Earth.”

“We’re not the angels of the Lord, sir.”  She said.

“Well, someone has to do the job.”  He replied.  “God won’t.”

Captain Hausa had another thought.

“Sir, some people at home would say that you we are acting altruistically.”

“And I can’t be a selfish bastard if I can’t live with myself.”

“I don’t remember reading that, sir.”  She replied.

“I just thought of it.”  He said.  “It comes with the job.”

Evelyn Charon had another thing to say.

“There will be a war.”  He said.  “And I would expect it to be the bloodiest war in human history.”

“We won our own War Of Independence.”  She replied.

“We were lucky.  Your grandfather was the smartest and most experienced general officer alive at the time.  And the central government on Earth wasn’t prepared for a war at that time.”  He said. “But we may have to bring him out of cold storage to fight this war as well.”

Captain Hausa could only nod her head in agreement.

Evelyn Charon was tired after the meeting but he thought he had to return to the sick bay.  It was there that he found Diana had been cleaned up and transferred to a normal hospital bed.

Asleep and without the horrid makeup, even in the subdued light of the sick bay, she was angelic in appearance.

Doctor Adams gently stepped up behind him and softly spoke.

“Now what?”

Evelyn softly answered.

“She goes through the healing process and personal growth and lives a proper human life.”

Doctor Adams asked another question.

“Are you prepared to see her go through it?”

Evelyn looked at her. He didn’t have an answer.

Doctor Adams spoke again.

“Are you willing to accept the responsibility?”

“Yes.”  He said.

He thought for a moment and then spoke again.

“Now that Alex is up and about he could use a project to keep him tied to the home office.”

“You’re not walking away from this one!”  She responded.

“You know him.”  He replied.  “As soon as he is healthy enough he’ll be up to his neck working to solve the problems we’re now stuck with.”

Cheryl Adams shook her head.  Evelyn responded.

“Alex made every effort to be a good husband and father.”  He said.  “He can be one again, and you should marry him.”

Her eyes widened.

“I love you.”  She responded.

He answered her.

“I love you Cheryl, but I can’t, I simply can’t.  My first wife, Susan, and our daughter Alice, were murdered by a Muslim suicide bomber, and Sonya and I were married after she survived the Second Holocaust.  I can’t expect this incarnation to be any quieter.”

He continued to speak softly.

“I love you, but now there’s a storm coming, I’m not counting on surviving it, and I’m not leaving a widow behind.”

He kissed her on the forehead and spoke softly.

“Goodnight.”

There was nothing else he could do.
 
It was time to clean up the mess.

The first part of the process was to remove the biohazard fluids, blood, brain matter and urine, left on the decks by the dead thugs.  This was followed by the examination for evidence of the staterooms and luggage of the offenders.  This task was left to the security chief of the ship, Julie Canny.

The three thugs from Hope had clothing that was flashy and ill fitting.  Designed to be worn by those who barely engaged in any thought.  And with the belief that it was effective for attracting attention from those who didn’t think.

The little intellectual material found on their notebook computers reflected the culture of their home world.  Full hatred for all races other than their own.  Extreme hatred of the Freyans.  Hatred of any form of independent thought and material success in reality.  The entertainment material was incoherent noise masquerading as music and some very hardcore pornography.

Their computers and clothing were ejected out the airlock with the mortal remains.

The Xenophonian mercenary was more interesting.

His personal clothing and other items were plain and practical.  His notebook computer took some effort to crack into.  Once the computer was cracked it was very apparent that in addition to working as the chief bodyguard of Wolfe, he also intended to perform a reconnaissance on a Freyan ship on behalf of the Xenophon Mercenary Corporation. Julie discussed the sections of the ship that were priorities for examination with the engineer, Mr. Czech.  In his opinion the information sought would be required to carry out a sabotage operation.

The Xenophonian’s body was placed in cryogenic storage on the hibernation deck and his computer and personal effects placed in secure storage to be turned over to Confederation military intelligence.

The apparel of Douglas Wolfe followed the current youth fashion on Earth.  This meant that he apparently put no thought into the acquisition or the appearance of it.

The notebook computer was another can worms altogether.

There were no intellectual text files present apart from an annotated English language translation of the Koran.  The music and video files followed the current entertainment fashion on Earth

This was no surprise.

The visual pornography files were very graphic and very sadistic in content.

Then Canny opened the file folder labeled DONNER.

If the images were computer generated then they were very indicative of a very deep psychological disorder.  If the images were real then they were hard evidence of a series of serious, sadistic, and lethal crimes.

Wolfe also had in his possession a hardbound copy of a work simply titled THE BOOK OF PEACE.

The computer, book, and Wolfe’s personal effects were placed in secure storage to be turned over to the Confederation police on Freya.

At the midpoint of their flight through the Solar System the liner went into free fall mode for turnover.  Although there was a way to continue acceleration during a turnover the Freyaspace management had concluded that it was a waste of reaction mass.

Just short of the jump point the Reliable came almost to a dead stop before the engines were shut off. The ship was in free fall mode and set to slowly coast through the location of the jump point in normal space.

Evelyn and Diana were belted into their observer seats on the command deck.  Diana had wore no makeup and had her hair cut to a practical length and was wearing slippers and scrubs from the sickbay.

From Evelyn’s view she was stunning.

“So how does the jump drive work?”  Diana asked.

“Good question.”  Said Evelyn.  “The closest thing I heard to a clear answer is that we’re taking advantage of a cosmic loophole.”

“In both the literal and metaphorical sense of the word?”

“Yes.” He replied.

In spite of the manufacturer’s training Diana was showing a great amount of curiosity and a willingness to learn.  But then she did initiate her escape on her own.  Once she had her own access to the ship’s network she devoured intellectual files as if there were no tomorrow.  In any case this was in Evelyn’s opinion a good sign.

The first officer spoke.

“Captain, all stations report ready for jump.”

Even though she checked the clock herself she followed the established procedure.

“Time to jump?”  She asked.

“Two minutes, forty seconds.”

“This is the most boring part.”  Evelyn said softly.

The first officer counted off the time to jump at fifteen second intervals.  And then began a full count at fifteen seconds.

At five seconds Evelyn spoke to Diana.

“Close your eyes.”

At the moment of jump the universe disappeared...

...and then reappeared.

When Diana recovered from the effects of the jump she spoke.

“What just happened?”

It took ten seconds for Evelyn to answer.

“It’s called jump shock or jump discontinuity.”  He said.

“It felt like I didn’t exist?”

“Yes.”  He said.  “Like reality became unreal for a moment.”

“Why?”

He looked at her.

“I have no idea.”  He said.  “No one does.”

DX Cancri was a red dwarf star that was almost twelve light years from Earth.  It only had nine percent of the mass of the Sun.  The lesser effect of the red dwarf’s gravity allowed the points from and to which ships could jump to be much closer together in space.  This had the practical effect of shortening the travel time and reducing the reaction mass requirements for crossing the system.  In addition to the point to the Solar System, DX Cancri also had jump points to fifteen other stars.

The port for the system was on an airless and ice covered satellite of an gas giant planet.  Someone with a sense of humor named it Nowhere.

On the approach to Nowhere three women were having a discussion in the sick bay.

“You want me to what?”  Said Diana.

Doctor Hart replied.

“We need to take your physical measurements so we could go shopping for you on the station.”

“Why can’t I go shopping myself?”

Doctor Adams answered.

“On this ship you’re a person.”  She said.  “The station is Federation territory, where you’re still classed as property.  And as an escaped slave you’re subject to summary execution upon identification.”

“So I can’t go?”  Said Diana.

“Correct,” said Doctor Adams, “so we’ll have to go for you.”

“And you’ll have all the fun?”  Asked Diana.

Doctor Hart replied.

“Well no.  We can bring up the catalog and you can make your choices here.  We’ll then go aboard the station and pick up the order.”

Doctor Hart brought up a catalog page on her workstation.

“Star-Mart isn’t the best retailer of women’s clothes in the Known Universe, but they’re on the Nowhere station, you can do a better job of shopping and have proper fun when we reach home.”

An announcement was made on the shipboard address system.

“One hour to free fall mode.”

As Diana was vicariously shopping with the doctors Evelyn was observing ship’s operations on the command deck.  When she found a break in procedures Captain Hausa walked over to and sat down next to him.

“Boss, we have a problem.”  She said.

“What is it?”

“Two agents of the Federation Investigation Service want to talk to you.”

“No.”  He responded.  “They should know better than to even make that request of someone with a diplomatic passport.”

“I took the liberty of making an inquiry.”  She said.  “Their address on the station is located in the section belonging to the Office of Replacement Retirement.”

Evelyn nodded.

“That’s such a lame designation for a murder squad.”  He said.  “Let’s be safe and assume the worst case is now in effect.  No one who’s not scheduled to transfer at the station leaves the ship. We top off the reaction mass tanks and go.”

“Yes, sir.”  Said Captain Hausa.

Charon decided to remain on the command deck while the ship was docked at the station.

Diana had made her way to the command deck while the ship was in the free fall condition. She wore velcro grip gloves and slippers.  She’d learned to do the Kubrick walk in the weightless condition.

“Sit down and strap in.”  Evelyn said.

Diana did so.

“What happened?”  She asked.

“The slave murder squad wants a word with me.  I said no.”

She stared at him.

“Try to not worry, we’ll top off the tanks and be out of here.”

She nodded.

Charon continued to sit on the command deck and supervise.  Before the top off procedure was almost complete his personal phone rang.

“Yes Captain?”  He said.

“Sir, we have another problem.”

“What is it?”

“The thugs are stopping the remass procedure and said they’re aiming the station’s weapons at the ship. They want to speak to you, NOW.”

Charon thought for a moment.

“I’ll meet with them at the passenger airlock.  Have the security team ready to repel boarders.”

“Yes, sir.”

Diana spoke.

“What’s happening?”

“The slave murder squad is being really stupid.”  He replied.  “They’re threatening to use force. I’m going to have a nice little chat with them.”

“I want to be there.”  Diana said.

“They want to kill you.”

“I’m responsible for my own life.”

“Yes, you are.”  Charon replied.  “But I won’t let them take you while I’m alive.”

Diana nodded.

“Let’s go.”  He said.

The security team were setting up at the nearest corridor crossing to the airlock.  They were wearing their zero-g combat overalls, with velcro patches to allow the wearers to attach themselves to the deck or those sections of wall and ceiling that were also covered with velcro. They also had two squad support weapons. They were the four millimeter mass driver technology replacement for the general purpose machine gun. The gunners had locked the five hundred round ammunition cassettes in place. The bipods were set into slots in the walls for operation in the free fall environment.  To civilian eyes the slots appeared to be solely decorative.  The optical sights on the weapons were at the single red dot setting for zero-g.

The two other team members carried what appeared to be telescopes with bipods, pistol grips, and rifle stocks.  There were power cords for the laser weapons running to packs on each crew members back.

All members of the security team were using the corners of the entry corridor to mask their bodies from view from the airlock.  With only the head, arms, and shoulders being visible.

When the security team was ready the leader spoke.

“We’re ready.”  Said Julie.

Attached to the deck with their velcro shoes just three meters short of the airlock were Evelyn Charon, Captain Hausa, and Diana.

“Good.”  Said Evelyn.

He turned to the Captain.

“You don’t have to be here.”

“I’m the captain.  I have to be here.” She replied.  “And I wouldn’t miss the work of a master.”

“I wouldn’t quite put it that way.”  He replied.

He turned to Diana.

“You don’t have to be here.”  He said.

“I’m not leaving your side.

He looked straight ahead.

“Right then.  Remember, fear is an emotion, fear is the negation of thought, I will pass by the state of fear to the state of reason.”  He said.

Charon placed his hands on his hips and issued the order.

“Open the airlock.”

The door to the Nowhere Station slid open.

On the far side of the airlock, still within the station was a black clad group of eight men. Each of them were armed with the nine millimeter ACRS.  The shortened version of the last generation of chemically fueled assault weapons issued by the Federation armed forces.  Their feet were attached to the deck with velcro slippers over their combat boots.

Morons.  Charon thought. The first man to fire a round would be propelled backwards.  And he would knock back everyone behind him in a free fall domino effect.

Which would be absurd if they weren’t deployed to do it for real.

Beyond the would-be storm troopers were two men, an older African-American and a younger Caucasian with an appalling boy band hair style.  They wore suits and ties.  Stationed on a space station they should’ve already known that neckties and the weightless condition didn’t mix.

They had to be the gentlemen from the Office of Replacement Retirement.

Charon spoke first.

“Gentlemen, I’m Evelyn Alexander Charon, you can step forward now to talk, I won’t bite.”

The older of the two responded.

“Mister Charon, we require your presence in our office.”

“Nonsense.”  Charon replied.  “Your authority ends at the airlock door, and I won’t step into it.”

The two men were dumbfounded.  They looked at each other in confusion.

Charon spoke again.

“You should step up so we could have a proper conversation. And you can send the goon squad home.  They wouldn’t last ten seconds in action under these conditions.”

In Charon’s opinion the goons wouldn’t last two seconds in combat and they would have left an awful mess, with blood sprayed literally all over the place, in the weightless conditions.

The black suited members of the tactical team were staring at the shipboard security team and their weapons properly emplaced for zero-g combat.

They wanted to go home.  Now.

The lead agent could also see the situation for what it was.  He decided there was nothing to gained by dying.

He spoke.

“Team leader!”

“Yes, sir!”

“Return to base!”

“Yes, sir!”

The tactical team leader raised the muzzle of his weapon away from the Freyans.  The remainder of the team did so as well.  They moved clumsily back to the spin section of the station.

The shipboard security team shifted the aim of their weapons to the two agents.

“Now.”  Said Charon.  “Let’s have a civilized conversation.”

The two agents stepped forward with their grip shoes on the deck.  Charon asked a question.

“Why are you interfering with the operation of this ship?”

The lead agent spoke.

“We have information that four of your passengers are dead, one has been placed under arrest and is in hibernation, and that you’re giving sanctuary to a replacement.”

Charon answered with the full voice of moral authority.

“This vessel is registered under the flag of the Ursa Major Confederation.  Douglas Wolfe committed a capital crime and is under arrest.  His four employees were killed while assaulting myself and four other passengers on this ship.  And Diana is a person, not a piece of property.”

“And does this alleged person have a surname?”

Evelyn quickly answered.

“Charon.”  He said.  “Diana Charon.”

Evelyn shifted his right hand towards Diana.  She placed her left hand in his and stepped towards him.

“Mister Charon, why are you defying the law?”

“What law?”

“You are stealing a replacement from the rightful owner and holding him captive.”

Charon answered. Firmly.

“The true code of law is based on the individual right to live, this isn’t only the right to physically exist but also the right to be in complete control of one’s own life. What you’re doing is simply a complete denial of that right.  What I’m doing is a complete defense of that right.”

Evelyn then voiced a personal opinion.

“And someone who claims ownership of another person is nothing more than a predatory animal, to be identified and dealt with as such.”

Charon then had one more thing to say.

“Does your mother know that you murder slaves?”

The African-American senior agent responded sharply.

“Leave my mother out of this!”  He said.  “And we don’t commit acts of murder!  We retire replacements!”

Charon shook his head.

“Really?  Couldn’t you come up with a better euphemism?  The term ‘retirement’ was lame when Ridley Scott used it in the original version of Blade Runner.”

“Oh, I forgot.”  Said Charon.  “A euphemism requires original thought.”

“Mister Charon?”  Said the senior agent.  “Why are you wasting our time?  Just hand over the replacement and release the owner to us and you can go.”

“And be an accessory to murder?”  Said Charon as he shook his head.  “That’s out of the question.”

The senior agent desperately attempted another tack to obtain his goal.  He spoke to Captain Hausa.

“Sister,” he said, “you can feel that he’s wrong, for the sake of yourself, your ship and the people on it, just comply with the law.”

Captain Hausa shook her head and replied with authority.

“You have no law.”  She said.  “And to comply with your demands would be irrational.”

The junior agent interjected.

“Reason makes you white!”

Captain Hausa replied firmly.

“Is that so?  Reason is what makes us human.”

Diana spoke up.

“I would suggest that you quit before you die of embarrassment, but it appears that you’re incapable of it.”

Evelyn Charon cracked a smile.

“Gentlemen, give up while you still can.”  He said.

The senior agent was exasperated. He’d reached his limit.

“Who are you?  Who are you to speak to us that way?”

“Simply a man.”  He replied.  “I did say my name was Evelyn Alexander Charon.”

The junior agent shouted.

“Which one?  Second , third, or forth?”

Charon responded.

“I was born on November Twenty Second, Nineteen Sixty Three, in Dallas, Texas.  With all the bullets flying around my parents thought it would be a good idea to move to Minnesota.  I enlisted in the United States Army on March Tenth, Nineteen Eighty Two.  I was wounded in a friendly fire incident during Operation Desert Storm along with my company commander, Captain John Andrew March. I worked for him as he served as the Governor of the State of Minnesota, the last President of the United States, and the first President of the Federation.”

Both agents were stunned.

“That’s impossible.”  Said the eldest.  “You can’t be him.  You can’t be the destroyer.  You’re too young.”

“We call it reincarnation by technological means.”  Charon replied.  “And it’s a perfectly legal act on Freya.”

“You’re a replacement!”  Shouted the youngest agent.

Charon looked straight at the youngest agent and replied directly.

“And what are you going to do?”  He said. “Kill me?  Kill Diana?  Even if you could kill us there will be Hell to pay, and my next incarnation will be there to collect.”

Both agents were silent. Charon continued to speak.

“Xenophonian mercenaries murdered three members of my family during the War Of Independence.  We responded by striking the planet Xenophon with ultra high yield cobalt cased thermonuclear weapons.  Nothing lives there now.  Not even mutants hunting each other for food. Your actions aren’t enforcing any law that we could objectively see as being valid.  And there’s no place in the known universe that you’ll find sanctuary.”

Both agents turned pale.

“What are we to do?”  Asked the senior agent.

The answer was simple.

“Do no further harm.”  Said Evelyn.

The Reliable topped off her reaction mass tanks and departed from Nowhere Station with no further interference.

The first moment they had alone Evelyn and Diana talked.

“So we’re married?”  She said.

“Apart from some paperwork being filled out, yes.”

“And why didn’t you say so earlier?”

“You’re a victim of one of the worst crimes that can be committed.  I wanted you to make your own decision on your own.  That idiot forced my hand.”

“So what do we do now?”

“We live.”

Evelyn and Diana kissed.

The transit to the jump point was uneventful.

The next world on the route was Vance.  It was a habitable satellite of a gas giant planet of another red dwarf star.  It was discovered by John Vance, an Australian explorer employed by the Freya Project.  It had a seventy percent gravitational pull and an atmospheric pressure at the surface similar to the city of Denver on Earth.  This world allowed people born in the habitants of Mars to acclimate to higher gravity and an open sky.

And because some of the original Martians had remained on this world it would become a member of Freya Pact during the War Of Independence and later join the Ursa Major Confederation.

With no plans to land on the planetary surface Diana and Cheryl went shopping on the Vance orbital station.  They entered the local branch of Star-Mart in the spin section of Vance Station.

As they were locating items found in the catalog the store manager confronted them.

He pointed to Diana and shouted with a brusque tone of voice.

“YOU!  Get out of here!”

Cheryl intervened.

“Is there a problem?”

“Yes!”  Said the manager loudly.  “We don’t serve replacements here!”

The corporate logo and serial number tattoo on Diana’s forearm was still visible.

Cheryl replied.

“My friend is a person and you’re in the Ursa Major Confederation.”

“Doesn’t matter, bitch!”  The manager replied.  “Corporate policy forbids transactions with escaped replacements.”

“You’re just following orders?”

“Yes!”  The manager replied.  “Now get out of here before I call the cops!”

Cheryl replied with a level voice.

“Go ahead, call the police.”

The first pair of station police officers that arrived said they were under orders to wait for their supervisors.  They rejected the demands by the store manager to eject the two women.

The next to arrive were the manager of the station, the chief of the station police, Captain Hausa, and Evelyn Charon.

As Evelyn took charge of the situation the store manager shouted.

“Who the Hell are you, punk?”

“Evelyn Charon, Chairman of the Board of the Freyaspace Corporation.”

The store manager visually scanned Charon for a moment.

“You’re too young, punk!”  The manager replied in what Charon recognized as an old Chicago accent.

“The Freyaspace Corporation is a owned family business.  An actual family business.  Unlike those back in Chicago.”  Charon responded.  “But that’s not important right now.  What’s the problem we are responding to is that you're in clear violation of the lease agreement the Star-Mart Corporation has with the Freyaspace Corporation.”

“Doesn’t matter!”  The store manager replied.  “My orders come from Earth!  We don’t take shit from colonial punks.”

He pointed to Diana.

“Get that walking piece of shit out of here!  NOW!”

Captain Hausa spoke.

“The next thing he’ll do is deny service to ‘niggers.’”

“Well, we can’t have that.”  Said Charon.

He turned to the station manager and spoke.

“Karl, the contract is revoked, close the store.”

“Yes, sir.”

“You won’t get away with this!”  The store manger shouted.  “You’ll pay for this! You won’t escape punishment from us!”

“Who’s us?”  Said Charon.

The store manager suddenly realized that he wasn’t back in the City of Chicago on Earth.  His political and social connections could no longer protect him.

Charon turned to the chief of the station police.

“Chief?  Did you get everything that moron said?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Chief, would you please demonstrate to this gentleman how we deal with those persons who believe they’re exempt from an objectively valid code of law.”

“Yes, sir.”

The chief of the station police and the other officers present pulled out their batons and proceeded to beat the store manager into a bloody pulp.

“Ladies,” said Evelyn, “we’ll have to shop somewhere else.”

The last jump in the journey was to the system of 10 Ursae Majoris.  The system was a binary. The primary star was classed by astronomers as a F5 dwarf and the secondary as a G5 dwarf like the original Sun.  The system was 52 light years from the Earth.

The configuration of the orbit of each star caused the position the jump points in the system to shift radically over the course of time.  It also allowed the system to have two habitable planets.

Orbiting the smaller and dimmer star of 10 Ursae Majoris B was the planet Freya.  Named for the Norse goddess of wealth and beauty the core group of colonists came from the sealed habitats of Mars.  Survival in the lethal environment of the Red Planet required a hardcore realist view of existence. A world view that couldn’t indulge in fantasies.  While some people found the core culture of the Freyans to be hostile and the travel distance to be extreme there were now a hundred million people living on the planet.

The corporate executive shuttle dropped away from the primary space station.  The destination was the surface port at Landfall.  The capital of the planet and the Ursa Major Confederation.

Their limousine pulled out from the corporate section the down port. It turned north for the hour drive to family estate.

Evelyn and Diana were met at the main entrance of Charon House by a very elderly man with a cane and an eyepatch.

Evelyn made the introduction.

“Diana, this is my first incarnation, Alex.”

Alex graciously took her right hand into his.

“Welcome to the family.”  He said.

“Thank you, sir.”  She replied.

Alex smiled.

“You needn’t say that.”  He said.

He then spoke to Evelyn.

“You left the usual trail of death and destruction?”

“Well, yes.”  Said Evelyn.

“There are some things we need to discuss.”  Alex replied.

Another Reason I Won't Vote Democratic

Here's two thousand words as to why I won't ever consciously vote for a Democrat.

For those who're victims of the public schools with the Mainstream Media, a group of Muslims managed to hijack four commercial airliners and crashed three of them into each of the main towers of the World Trade Center and the Pentagon.  We've yet to properly respond to this atrocity.  By a proper response I mean that we should've erased the abomination commonly known as the Kaaba from the face of the Earth with a high yield thermonuclear weapon.  And in doing so we would've demonstrated that the deity known as Allah was without question a false god and the doctrine known as Islam was an absolute load of nonsense.

Of course there will be those who would've point a finger at me and scream that I'm expressing hatred. So what?

If we would hang a traitor once in a while (pour encourager l'outres) they wouldn't be so annoying.

 A lie is a lie regardless of how many people choose to believe it or are compelled to believe it.  But the truth is the truth, learn to live with it.

There are those who pose as Progressives that have declared that criticism of Islam is an expression of hatred.

Really?

No, this is hatred.

Nearly 3000 people were murdered as an act of hated against Humanity.

Why?

For Muslims there's no why.  There's only the will of the false god Allah as dropped from the mouth of the false Prophet Mohammad.  And it 's only in the Nineteenth Century that we'd see anyone who equaled that level of depravity, such as Karl Marx.

What's the purpose of religious tolerance?

The individual is the sovereign authority in a civil society.  Because of this the government can't impose a belief, including a religious belief, upon the person.  Thus any religion that accepts the individual as sovereign authority in a civil society can and must be tolerated.  Under Islam man is the property of the deity.  A person has no rights, can't enact legislation, and can't establish and uphold a moral standard.  Compliance with Islam must be imposed by force.  Furthermore a Muslim is permitted to deceive or otherwise use nonbelievers for their own gain and even commit murder.  An underage girl who's protected under a rational code of law is seen, literally, as a usable object under the doctrine of Islam.

Such behavior, which denies the rights and sovereignty of the individual, can't be tolerated in a civil society.  I will furthermore go further in saying that the existence of Islam can be seen as possible proof of the nonexistence of God.  A rational, caring, and observant God should have vaporized the false prophet Mohammad the moment he opened his mouth to claim divine blessing for such obviously evil acts as rape, robbery, murder, censorship, and participation in the slave trade.  Islam is absolutely toxic to Human life.  And those, including the enforcers of Islamic doctrine, who deny the Rights Of Man absolutely cannot claim those very same rights for themselves.  Those who act to enforce the doctrine of Islam are absolute Enemies of Mankind.  They're fit solely for extermination.

A belief in Islamophobia is pure and absolute nonsense.  Islamophobia is a false concept.  Phobia is a Latin word for an irrational fear of something.

The obvious question is how can someone be tricked into betraying any moral value when they absolutely lack one?  The false prophet Mohammad commanded his followers to commit the acts of rape, robbery, and murder.  The doctrine of Islam commands enslavement and the systematic violation of the rights of man and to act as predatory animals.  Without question the doctrine and practice of Islam is absolutely depraved.  Given that Human Life is the foundation of all valid moral values then Islam must be absolutely condemned.  But the signatories of this document condemn as immoral those who hold an actual moral standard.  I' m hard pressed to respond to this utterly depraved document without the use of barracks language.  But I'll say this, Vidkun Quisling was shot for his betrayal of the Norwegian people and we’re going to need an all night firing squad to deal with this bunch.

They're not un-Minnesotan, they're anti-human.

 Is there such a thing as Islamophobia?

No.

It's perfectly natural to have a fear of being conquered by a bunch of ignorant and violent people.

Can a Muslim be a good person?  Is it possible for someone who's indoctrinated in the absolutely depraved ideology of Islam to act as a good person?  We saw examples of of a Muslim being good in during the terrorist actions in Paris.  The first being the police officer who's murdered by the Jihadists in the line of duty.  The other being the young man who led others to safety during the attack on the delicatessen.  It's possible for a Muslim to be a good person but this is a compromise.  As with all compromises it's untenable.  In the long run these people must renounce the doctrine of Islam and embrace Reason as the way of life.  Every Muslim, at least in theory, is Human.  A fundamental part of being Human is the capacity for reason, full perception and conscious thought.

The doctrine of Islam forbids rational thought.  Islam reduces all persons to the moral status of animals and thus to property.  In submitting to the alleged will of the false god Allah the Muslim renounces responsibility for their own actions.  All murders and other crimes committed by a Muslim are simply the will of the false god Allah.  In reality when a Muslim desires to commit an act of rape, robbery, or murder he simply declares that he is only following the orders of false god Allah.

The doctrine of Islam claims that the entire body of laws made by men, thousands of years of effort by mankind to create a just society, thousands of years of effort by of good men, who wrote legal charters and laws, including our original Constitution and our Bill Of Rights, are simply nullified by the mouth droppings of the false prophet Mohammad.

On what grounds can those who deny The Rights of Man can claim protection the under those very same rights?

None whatsoever.

But how one deals with another person determines how that person responds.  When the Muslim renounces responsibility for their own thoughts and actions they can no longer be rationally identified as being Human.  And we who remain rational humans can no longer identify and deal with a Muslim as a proper person who's responsible for their own life and actions.  We can only see them as toxic organisms to be removed as a hazard to our lives.  And worse the indoctrination of children in the doctrine of Islam condemns them to extinction as well.

Islam is a clearly false doctrine that serves only as an excuse for criminal actions that are beyond the toleration of civilized people.  Islam denies all of the Rights of Man and therefore no Muslim can claim any of those rights for himself.  We must accept as a fact of reality that Islam is outside of the protection of the First Amendment and take the actions necessary to protect the citizens and legal residents of the United States.  The rational people of Earth are left with no alternative but to kill them all.  On the day of the extinction of Islam, I'll feel no guilt about it, and neither should anyone else.  Islam, like all other anti-Human (you know, EVIL) ideologies, can only be opposed through the education of the general population of its actual doctrines and effects, and through the consistent exercise of retaliatory force upon those Muslims who cross the line into violence.  When we do this (and we have to) the problem of Koran disposal will take care of itself.

I’m usually loath to agree with any Marxist, but I now agree with one.  We imagine our divine authority to be a reflection of ourselves.  The false prophet Mohammad imagined a monster like himself.  But then what can one say about a false religion founded by an individual who combines and magnifies the worst attributes of William Jefferson Clinton, Lafayette Ron Hubbard, and Charles Manson?

The basic goal of Rational Man is to live a human life.  The goal of the founder of Islam was to live as an animal without regard to the consequences.  Islam denies all of The Rights Of Man.  Muslims can't under any circumstances claim any of those rights for themselves.   In order to live in a Human society a Muslim must fully renounce Islam.  No exceptions can EVER be made.

We didn't start this war.  It began when the false prophet Mohammad took up the sword against those who refused to submit to his depraved will.  Those who choose to lay down the sword of Islam and join human civilization will be welcomed as friends.  Those who continue to wield the sword of Islam against Humanity are going to have that sword shoved up their terminal orifice.

Islam and the mass of contradictions that's claimed to be a system of law was the product of a thoroughly depraved individual.  Sharia law is a contradiction in terms.  Sharia is the codification of the nihilistic lust for power and plunder of the false prophet Mohammad whose moral values are essentially that of a predatory animal pretending to be a human being.  I could describe the false prophet Mohammad as a walking piece of excrement but that would be an insult to excrement.

Is there a solution to the problem of Islam short of a Final Solution?  The doctrine of Islam denies all of the Rights of Man including the Right of Life.  Given that Muslims are required to act as the mortal enemies of Mankind there are no middle grounds under which a peace can be negotiated with any of them.  In the end the practice of Islam must be removed from existence altogether.  Even if Muslims are not exterminated altogether they must be removed from rationally functioning human societies.  Those who deny the Rights of Man cannot live in a rational Human Society based on those rights.  Therefore Muslims have no place in a rational Human Society in and must be expelled from it.  Under no circumstances will any attempt be made to comply with any part of the Islamic code of law, including the dietary code.  If for example the least expensive food available to feed the Muslims in temporary detention before deportation is pork then it will be used.  If Muslims insist on complying with the false dietary laws and starve to death as a result then it’s their fault alone.

Clausewitz defined war as "an act of violence intended to compel our opponent to fulfill our will"

In demanding absolute submission the false prophet Mohammad had essentially declared war on Mankind.  Therefore those who follow his command to make war on those who properly refuse to submit are in effect enemy combatants and should be identified and dealt with as such.  Under the customs of warfare and subsequent legislation assault on a civilian is a serious offense with murder and rape being treated as capital crimes.  Humanity is at war with Islam.  Let's treat it as such.

Have we learned the lessons of 9/11?

NO.

One of the things we should have learned through direct experience in the Twentieth Century is that cowardice isn't an option.  We're in a fight for our lives and WE ARE LOSING.  We're losing what is in fact the Third World War because our rulers refuse to identify it as such.   And that the cause of liberty is in fact a holy cause.  We're in fact in a holy war.  One doesn't prevail in a holy war by pretending that the opposing faith is in fact valid.  We can only prevail if we correctly expose the falsehoods for which the enemy is fighting.  By treating their doctrine as false.  By systematically destroying their ideological infrastructure of indoctrination and enforcement.  Destroy their texts and temples, eliminate their enforcers with their indoctrinators.  But there's no excuse for cowardice when one's faced with actual evil.  We need to treat Islam as the toxic doctrine that it actually is.

A quote:  "Spare a moment to remember the nearly 3,000 innocent victims of insane hate who died on this day in the year 2001.  And spare a thought for the loved-ones they left behind."

-- Dr. John Ray.

Those who can believe absurdities will commit atrocities.  If the false prophet Mohammad were to appear in the United States today and behave as depicted in the Islamic records he'd either be locked in padded room and given a lifetime supply of happy pills, locked in a maximum security prison, or given the needle.  (Except in the state of Utah where he'd be taken out and shot.) 

I have a question for our self-appointed masters.

The Cold War is over, why do have relations with ANY Islamic country?

And remember: