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Serial number serial number or unlock key is available to the public, you can freely download the serial key. The word 'keygen' means a small program that can generate a cd key, activation number, license code, serial number, or registration number for a piece of software. FSX activation code NEEDED – fsx GeneralMy dad bought the game fsx for pc, but the key code inside the box doesn't work, I know you guys only totally dissed another guy for asking this, but.

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Microsoft Flight Simulator X

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Flight simulator x acceleration product key. To repair Flight Simulator X installation, follow these steps: Insert the Flight Simulator X disc into your DVD drive. I have the FSX Gold Edition which comes with the Acceleration Disc I am loading up a new PC and when it comes to loading the Acceleration disc and starting FSX, it then asks for the product key and the only product key that i have is the one that i had to use on FSX flight sim which i used af.

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Template: Infobox VG Microsoft Flight Simulator X, also known as FSX, is the latest version of Microsoft Flight Simulator after Flight Simulator It includes a graphics engine upgrade as well as compatibility with Windows Vista, having been marketed by Microsoft as the most important technological milestone in the series to date. Locate and then click the. All you need is the key that came with your copy of FSX to activate over the phone.

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11

How to Go Fucking Mad: A Crashed Course in Conspiracy Theory

Beware when fighting monsters that you yourself do not become a monster. For when you stare long into the Void, the Void will also stare into you.
It was conspiracy theory that woke me up. This is not a post for the faint of heart: we'll be staring deep into the Void that Nietzsche warned us about. The title of this post isn't exaggerating, knowing these things literally drove me insane. We'll be discussing kidnapping, murder, rape, torture, and the worst this reality has to offer. There's no TL;DR, a bit that will make you want to vomit, and only one joke which isn't even funny. If you prefer pretending this reality is all farts and rainbows, this isn't the post for you— but please give me a few paragraphs before you go.
This story starts July 12, 2016 and ends August 12th, the day I created this account. During this time, I watched every video linked in this post and then some. I stared into the Void so intensely that shadows began to move.
Thanks to being an active redditor for far too long, I can retrace my steps by looking at my old account (which was actually my "secret alt account" for getting away from the free work I was doing as u/radd_it.) The man in this story wasn't named Chris but it is the story of my falling. I've waited three years to tell it.
Some events have been rearranged for narrative. Some quotes have been edited for readability. Some tidbits are tweaked from wikipedia. Deal with it.

The End

And this is a story about being free. - DJ Shadow, You Can't Go Home Again
Before we begin, I want to share what I learned at the end: all "terrorist" events are false flag operations executed in a way to intentionally-create gaping holes in its official story. This is so increasingly-true, from JFK to 9/11 to the Vegas shootings, that the implications are nothing shy of reality-shattering. It is one of the consistencies of this reality that should not be but yet, there it is. (And the shootings in El Paso that occurred during the writing of this post is no exception.) I want you to know this is true going in as you'll see the proof of it along the way.
The penultimate Streisand effect, this reality hides its rabbithole behind a deception so multilayered that its complexity cannot help but give away its preternatural nature. There is noise at every step on both sides along the path and it all comes with the same purpose: to keep you too distracted there to move farther along. The agents of causality will encourage you to look at this or that hoping you see no farther; I am inviting you to look at all of it or, at least, follow the path of my footsteps retraced.
The topmost layer, our mainstream narrative, is maintained through no small effort but constant repetition in our news and entertainment. This layer reveals its motives most obviously in its portrayal of "conspiracy theorists" as crazy people. Why even look at such things if you automatically (and subconsciously) associate it with the mad? Newscasters scoff away anyone questioning an "official story" whilst any representation in our entertainment likely involves someone looking homeless with a sandwich board and a tinfoil hat.
The internet is no exception. Stray from the mainstream narrative somewhere like worldnews and an "expert" will come along to "correct" you. Even an image search for "conspiracy theorists" re-enforces this: placards about aliens, tinfoil hats, and the quintessential face of controlled opposition, Alex Jones; all of which link to articles labelling those who believe such things as crazy and dangerous.

What is Controlled Opposition?

Controlled opposition is important to understand as we are surrounded by it. It manifests in three basic ways:
  • Association with intentionally-crazy people
Alex jones plays his role to create a mental barrier between the mainstream narrative and conspiracy theories by association. It is the same role as the pizzagate shooter or the upcoming area 51 raid. None of these happenings are organic but plastered across our news to maintain the mainstream narrative.
  • Defining an argument and arguing both sides of it
This is simply noise created to keep you distracted. In the mainstream narrative layer, this manifests as issues the political left v. right and divisive topics like abortion. (Are you pro-choice or pro-life? Pick one and you're either anti-choice or pro-death.) This form of controlled opposition becomes even more pervasive and obtuse the further along the rabbithole you go.
  • The False Friend
This includes our news, our "satirical left" comedians, and those pushing false narratives masqueraded as science. I used to love the Daily Show in its Jon Stewart days, jokingly-referring to it as "comedy about the end of the world" but I can no longer enjoy such things since understanding how they exist only to make the fear propaganda more palatable. What good is a boogeyman if nobody knows they're there?

Abandon All Hope, Ye Who Enter Here

On the first page of the book of blue it read: "If you read this page, then that'll be your death" By then it was too late and you wound up on An island of shells And bones that bodies had left
And the one thing you taught me about human beings was this: They aint made of nothin' but water and shit. - Modest Mouse, What People Are Made Of
If the mainstream narrative is the icing, conspiracy theory is the layered cake; fear propaganda designed to be found by those able to break the programming of repetition. Like most people, I had never questioned the official story about most anything. I'd always had little nags and pings about this and that but never gave conspiracy theory much thought because I'd been taught not to. The madness came when I started to see how much of it rang true.
But wait, I'm getting ahead of myself, let me take you back to where it all began. Back to when I was normal.
When I was as innocent as Alice.

I Got My Mind Set

And if you go chasing rabbits And you know you're going to fall Tell 'em a hookah-smoking caterpillar Has given you the call
It called Alice When she was just small - Jefferson Airplane, White Rabbit
I don't remember how I came across it but my White Rabbit was this very testimony from a MKUltra survivor. I'd never heard of MKUltra before so I had little context for the horrors being described— and trying to find out escalated into an unexpected adventure.
MKUltra was a CIA operation that began in the 1950s, mainly under the supervision of German scientists imported after World War II. Experiments were run on humans intended to identify and develop drugs and procedures to be used in interrogations to weaken the individual and force confessions through mind control. Happening during the height of the Cold War, its goals also included the creation of sleeper agents).
MKUltra used numerous methods to manipulate mental states and alter brain functions including the surreptitious administration of LSD and other chemicals, hypnosis, sensory deprivation, isolation, verbal and sexual abuse, and other forms of torture. I can't even call this "conspiracy theory" as many years later, the U.S. government paid compensation to some of the victims.
I was as disgusted as anyone would be but still heavy with denial and clinging tightly to lifelong ideas of normality. Certainly my government couldn't be that blatantly-evil. This is just some terrible relic of history, a mistake in the lunacy of the cold war, right? RIGHT?!
Alice has some questions she would like answered.

The Habitual Rituals

I still thought conspiracy theory as the realm of crazy people, so I choose who I listened to carefully. All I knew was there was something big that I didn't understand. I wanted to know more. I needed to know more.
Ted Gunderson, once-head of the FBI Los Angeles division, was the first person who caught my attention. His involvement with the FBI made him seem a credible source— and he looks like someone's grandpa and grandpas never lie. After he retired from the Bureau, Ted spoke publicly about chemtrails, sex rings, but most often, ritualistic sacrifices happening all around America (and being ignored by the FBI.) It was his association with John DeCamp that I learned of The Franklin Coverup and the 1993 documentary about it, The Conspiracy of Silence. (Thanks to this old comment, I know it was July 14th that I found it. Someone had posted to ObscureMedia the same vid I'd watched days earlier; the rabbithole kept beckoning.)
It mainly revolves around the story of Leonard 'Larry' King, a once-prominent figure of the Republican party who's now almost nonexistent on the internet. There were three key witnesses at his trial, most notably Paul Bonacci, a MKUltra survivor. I had barely found the rabbithole and most everything I'd watched so far had been sanitized for public consumption. Listening to journalists and whistleblowers did not prepare me for Paul's eyewitness testimony.
Here is his testimony of those events. It's just one person talking to another but it is the most horrific thing I'd ever heard. I don't need to watch it again to remember his words: He was fucking him and he started to cry so he killed him. He was bashing in his skull and fucking him and he just kept fucking him after he was dead.
Alice doesn't feel well. Alice needs to lie down a little while.

The Getaway

The event Paul described took place at Bohemian Grove, a restricted 2,700-acre campground belonging to a private club known as the Bohemian Club. The Bohemian Clubs membership includes prominent buisness leaders, government officials, former U.S. presidents, senior media executives, and people of power. In other words, it's a secluded getaway for the ultrarich that's been around a long, long while.
At the Grove is where I found Moloch, a giant stone owl and a centerpiece of ceremonies. Footage of those ceremonies is forbidden by the Club but our posterchild of controlled opposition managed to capture the annual Ceremony of Care. A lifelong agnostic, my knowledge of religion and myth was limited but I sure as shit recognize a pagan ceremony when I see one. Suddenly, Gunderson's talk of ritualistic sacrifice didn't seem so far-fetched. Not helping was Skull & Bones, a "secret" student society at Yale for those same privileged few whose initiation is alot of screaming about death.
The people in this reality I had always found most strange had become rather terrifying but one question was quietly lingering: if these people are so death-obsessed, above the law and without conscious then how are any of these people alive to talk about it?
Alice didn't have time to ask. She had stumbled, tumbled, and begun to fall.

Twice Falls Babel

It was my "friend" Daniel who called me on 9/11. The girlfriend I shared an apartment with had gone to work; I was alone when the phone rang. "Does your TV get any channels?" It didn't, we only had one to watch VHA movies. Why?
"We're under attack." After a pause even Shatner would've cut short, "What?" was the best I could muster.
It was a moment everyone of an age remembers and a moment those younger never had the chance to know. Not the event itself but the moment before when all you knew was you had no point of reference, no context, no experience to frame or guide the moment you were passing through. Those who didn't come of age before this moment can never know it as it's simply the reality they know.
I was on my way to his house minutes later, the distance between us an empty, alien world. We lived in a college town and at 9am on a Tuesday, its streets were regularly a steady chaos. Instead there was no one, everyone presumably already glued to a TV somewhere wondering what the hell was going to happen next. It was half-true for our president, he was wondering what happened next to the pet goat.
I was at Daniel's and also attached to a screen before the second tower was struck. The very first full-body panic attack I had ever experienced came a few minutes later. Like the towers, one moment I was standing and then I was not.
The next week, I flew to NYC. My second time there, I'd already fallen in love with the city (and would eventually spend 5 years living there.) I told myself that I was going to volunteer but in the honesty of hindsight, I went because I had to see it. I had to know that these things were there and not just images on a TV.
Sitting across the river on a Brooklyn rooftop, the smoke had yet to clear. It rose from the ground just as the towers had: two pillars of black nothing went ground to sky as straight as could be. I was seeing it all with my own eyes and it still didn't feel real. What was concrete and steel were now oddly-motionless monoliths of smoke.
Alice at twenty-two, scarred and hungry to understand.

Same River Revisited

In the wake of things, I was as ready and eager as anyone for any explanation being handed to me. I accepted it without question because the explanation came with motive, something far more difficult to identify down the rabbithole. In retrospect, I'm almost embarrassed how long it took me to accept these things. I say accept and not realize because at no point in my life did I think an airplane could implode a skyscraper but due to the cognitive dissonance of what other truths I'd have accept if I made that connection to what I'd seen, I didn't.
As I fell, such connections became easier to make or, more honestly, harder to deny. I had broken my programming of mainstream repetition and faceplanted right into the trap that laid in wait. I was weeks away from seeing it but I was lost squarely in the "Deep State" layer, still looking at this reality in "human" terms and trusting most things to be what I'd been told.
Loose Change presented things in the same bizzarely-cultish tone I had come to expect (and its makers won their debate with Popular Mechanics by being compared to Nazis.) Coming dressed in more professional clothes were Architects & Engineers for 9/11 Truth and Pilots for 9/11 Truth. No longer able to deny the truths of these things, the official story started sounding quite different.
On September 11th, 2001, a group of first-time flyers hijacked two planes and proceeded to make point-perfect course adjustments whilst flying at a speed that exceeded the structural integrity of the aircraft. Evading the entirety of the U.S. military during their 21-minute flight due to a series of coincidences bordering on ludacris (inaccurate position reports, false target reports, fighters launched the wrong direction, and simulated "war games" happening that morning), both groups were able to strike their targets with a velocity that two aluminium planes (density 2.7 g/cm³) penetrated their steel target (density 8.05 g/cm³). Despite never happening before or since, this asymmetrical damage sparked a chain reaction that lead to the symmetrical collapse of three skyscrapers at freefall speed.
Two collisions but three collapses; the "deep state" layer reintroduces WTC7, a 47-story building which stood until 5:20pm that evening before also collapsing top-down at freefall speed. It was around this time that I made a request for ae911truth. At the time, before the new layout, there was nothing except am image that obscured the entire screen and linked to conspiratard. With no mods, no posts, no subscribers, any other subreddit would have been approved as soon as it was seen. Instead, I was ignored for 17 days despite messaging the redditrequest admins every few days to ask about the delay.
Alice doesn't like being ignored.

Physics Says No

A&E911 was quick to offer another explanation for what brought the towers down: controlled demolitions. Their smoking gun is the remnants of a 'nanothermite' agent: a highly-combustible, ultra-hot compound so complex it could only be manufactured at a few select locations, all of which are operated by the U.S. military. Their scenario certainly explained alot more than the official story: the melted steel seen flowing out of the building would require a concentration of heat near-impossible outside of a forge.
What didn't sit right with me was the logistics of such a thing. Preparing what A&E911 proposed happened before the attack had the same stink of impossible circumstance as those that allowed the planes to make it to the towers. Large structures can take up to six months of preparation and usually include such obvious changes as removing internal walls, drilling holes for placing of explosives, and wrapping columns with fabric and fencing. It's not a small task, especially to do secretly in a city that never sleeps.
Unsatisfied, I looked at planned demolitions and another discrepancy emerged. All the towers that fell on 9/11 collapsed from the top-down; planned demolitions happen bottom-up. Comparing the collapse of WTC7 to a controlled demolition demonstrates this while raising another question: why does the demolished building create so much more debris than WTC7?
Where did the buildings go? It's a question so obvious, no one stopped to ask it except Dr. Judy Wood whose book is titled just that. Conveniently-overlooked by both the mainstream and "deep state" narratives was that six buildings collapsed that day and looking at what remained in the aftermath almost alone proves her case. Three hundred stories of steel and concrete fell that day, where did it all go?
There's only one video that I'm explicitly requesting you to watch and it's this 90-minute interview with forensics engineer Dr. Judy Wood. Things are soon to get strange and you should see the concrete evidence first. (Or is that the lack of concrete evidence?)
What destroyed the towers was a direct-energy weapon (DEW), another term for zero-point energy (ZPE), something Newtonian physics says is impossible. It's the only theory that explains all the phenomenon observed during the attacks and in the aftermath (and once you know what to look for, you'll see it everywhere.) Ground Zero wasn't covered with concrete and steel because it was mostly "dustified" on its way down. I had witnessed the perfect crime, committed with a technology so far advanced of what's known that no one would even consider it. A technology so far advanced, it would be described better as magic.
This massive demonstration of such a technology isn't the only example of the true potentials of electromagnetism. Similar effects have been achieved on a smaller scale by independent scientists like John Hutchinson and Joseph Newman. It was time to stop thinking about technology in terms of what's known but instead in terms of what's possible.
I was finally satisfied with an answer of how but handed an entirely new quandry: where could such advanced technology have come from? A&E911 dismissed the DEW evidence which only made me even more doubtful of their proposed culprit. FOX pinned the blame on bin Laden less than a minute after the second tower was hit and months earlier there was Bill Cooper, telling everyone to expect exactly that. Little did I know I'd been quietly escorted out of the "deep state" layer and into the "Illuminati" layer where the true strangenesses lay.
When Alice thought she found the bottom, she had only found a ledge.

Back to the Future and to the Left

They’re inventing enemies— the first of whom was the Russians. Then there would be terrorists, then there would be third world countries, what we now call rogue nations or nations of concern. Then there would be asteroids and then the last card would be the extraterrestrial threat. And all of it is a lie. - Werner von Braun, 1976
Bill Cooper was an Naval Intelligence Officer turned whistleblower. His wikipage reads like the resume of a madman but calling what was about to happen before 9/11 was enough for me to want to hear what else he had to say. He was the first person I heard talking about aliens and JFK. He looked angelic in his all-white suit but what he said about both was hard to swallow: we were contacted by not one but two alien races after our first nuclear testing during Truman's presidency and Kennedy was shot by his driver using a classified CIA weapon.
Bill was articulate and sincere but I didn't know what to think about it. Watching the infamous "Zapruder Film" wasn't much help with its low quality jerkiness; to me the only oddity it revealed was the driver slowing to a near-stop between the first and second times Kennedy was shot, the polar opposite of what anyone explicitly-trained to protect would do. Gov. john Connally, who was sitting in front of JFK when he was shot, reported in his testimony to the Warren Commission that he "immediately thought that there were either two or three people or more involved or someone was shooting with an automatic rifle because of the rapidity of the shots."
Oswald had denied it looking already aware of his fate, the same as bin Laden. Watching Oswald being shot by Jack Ruby just came across as staged. Here he is, the man who just shot the President everyone loves. We'll be escorting him from this place at this time in an open, flank position so he's fully unprotected to anything any of you want to do. And what's so funny about a deluded gunman?
Everything Is A Rich Man's Trick offered up another explanation: multiple gunmen arranged around the motorcade, most of which miraculously-missed their target except for one near where Oswald supposedly was and one positioned in a storm drain at the end of the street. (If you only watch two of these videos, make this the other one.) It had that same stink of impossible circumstance but reports of multiple shooters later explained away as "lone gunmen" was something I'd heard before; almost all mass shootings say the same. Patterns, patterns everywhere and not a drop to drink.
I had no interest in burrowing through the same layered misdirection as I had with 9/11. I had given up on finding a definitive who and began simply struggling to find a starting point for all this madness. A Rich Man's Trick began its story around World War I with roots as far back as the Bolshevik revolution of 1917. The boogeyman had been relabelled Illuminati and their motive was simple: the power of the Dollar Almighty. It seemed too easy a scapegoat and it didn't explain why their parties had same obviously-occult influence that I'd seen at the Grove. Bill Cooper had made one point I couldn't dispute: "What you believe does not matter. What you believe is irrelevant. All that matters is what they believe."
I was 24 when I first suspected anything similar. I was wearing an onion on my belt and writing a post on livejournal (which was the style at the time) simply asking if the greed that motivated our wealthy elite was for something not of this world. I would quickly trick myself into dismissing the idea but, now falling, I again found myself wondering the same thing. My reality looked like a Venn diagram of secret opposition and my head wouldn't stop screaming CONNECT THE GODDAMN DOTS! Plans Within Plans, the motto of the Illuminati, became all I could see.
Alice asked nobody if this was Wonderland. Nobody replied with a curious smile.

Fred Astaire at Goats

Fuck this post! This post can suck a bag of dicks! This shit is getting finished out of spite. - Myself, around this time of writing
The Void was staring into me and my cracks were showing. I needed something, anything to seem untrue. I needed the strangest of the fringes so I could laugh and dismiss it like I did with all of this before I tumbled. Something, anything so I could finally stop being bruised by the branches and ledges of the rabbithole.
I thought I found exactly that in The Montauk Project. Wrap up every conspiracy theory you've heard in every sci-fi trope you know and you wouldn't be too far off. The inspiration for Stranger Things, it was an operation involving alien coworkers, time travel, and psychic warfare. Be sure not miss the bit about aliens getting drunk on Lysol and Drain-O. What Bill Cooper had put down, Montauk picked up.
It's what introduced me to Al Bielek and The Philadelphia Experiment. Executed in 1943 but exploring similar themes, it predated Montauk by decades and its origins pushed the bigger story even farther: back to the inventor of inventors, Nikola Tesla, the man often credited with the first contact with extraterrestrials. Was this my elusive starting point?
A most-eccentric man, the more you know about Nikola Tesla, the more mythical becomes the only word to describe him. He wrote in his autobiography that he experienced detailed moments of inspiration when blinding flashes of light would appear before his eyes accompanied by (what he described as) visions. Often these visions would provide the solution to a particular problem he had encountered. He was a man who knew how to know without knowing.
When Tesla died, his belongings were seized by the F.B.I. and analyzed by John G. Trump. He assured everyone that "efforts during at least the past 15 years [of Tesla's life] were primarily of a speculative, philosophical, and somewhat promotional character often concerned with the production and wireless transmission of power but did not include new, sound, workable principles or methods for realizing such results." (And yes, John G. Trump was the paternal uncle of exactly who you think, a connection I still wonder about becoming suddenly relevant.)
The larger picture was starting to take shape as everything began to feel oddly-abstract. Lost in an ambivalence of shock and denial, I went back to Montauk feeling that I'd missed something. Watching a tour of the base gave the stories more physicality but the docu-drama released the previous year was laughably terrible.
At least, it was until they described an abduction process and it shared a few too many details with something that happened to me as a child. What was easy as an abstract became most-suddenly personal and my cracks became a twitch.
Alice somehow still fell downward when the rabbithole began to spin.

Rebirthday Crackers

Shortly after, August 8th, three things came without warning. The first seeds of knowledge began becoming understanding: I was starting to see how the "nanothermite" found after 9/11 was there to be found and beginning to accept that there are no coincidences here.
The next change was far less abstract as the terrors began manifesting around me. My always-quiet neighborhood suddenly became host of things I couldn't explain. Most were small, shadows shifting and maybe-gunshots or unexpected crashes always just out of eyesight. It was early on the 9th, the middle of a sleepless night, that I heard the screaming man from somewhere I couldn't identify. His tortured cries were clear as he screamed oh god why won't anybody help me? (I ran home and had a phone in hand before stopping to think what I could possibly say. "Hello, 9-1-1? I think there's a cult sacrifice happening outside my home but can't tell you quite where.")
That was the third change, I suddenly became unable to sleep and would be awake from the morning of the 8th until the evening of the 11th. As all I could feel was energy I didn't understand being channelled into me, I was always-exhausted but never properly-tired. I would lay in bed, staring at the wall, and by the night of the 10th all I wanted was to make it stop.
Mere hours later, no longer able to contain the energy and the madness, I signed off with a post titled simply This is Hell. Satan is here. The floods are coming. (It would be the first time I'd use the phrase "Everything you know is wrong.") My head was filling with terrible fates and I was unable to shake the sensation that something was targeting me, that something was coming for me. Even walking became tricky as my occasional twitches accelerated to full-body spasms. Again I tried to calm myself with sleep but again to no avail.
By 5am on the 11th, my panicked state had not changed. Desperately clinging on the sanity I had left, I tried to call the only person I could at that hour: my grandmother. I pulled up her number and hit the 'Call' button. The phone momentarily switched to its Calling.. screen before immediately cancelling the call.
I checked for signal: all bars full. I hit the 'Call' button again and the phone momentarily switched to its Calling.. screen before immediately cancelling the call again. This wasn't something it had done before.
I felt faint, so after a short pause to steady myself, I hit the 'Call' button a third time. The phone momentarily switched to its Calling.. screen before immediately cancelling the call.
And I promptly and completely lost my fucking mind. It was the a trivial nothing but the last straw this camel could bear. I had stared into the Void too long and madness had won.
Alice isn't here. Alice went away. Alice is gone.

The Day A New Moi

What happened next is something I'm no longer writing about as it's already well-documented and just as long a story in itself. After a month of free-falling, the bottom of the rabbithole welcomed me with the warmth of a brick wall. I finally landed as ungracefully as possible but it was there that the seeds of understanding began to bear fruit.
It was the 12th before I managed to fully return, to home and to sanity. The fruit sprouted trees as I finally saw what I had failed to see: everyone baking this cake of conspiracy is lying and nothing of such complexity manifests organically. I had found the simple solution I sought, the understanding that I now so desperately needed: an inhuman consciousness is also playing the game and they reveal themselves by being too good at what they do. Throughout all the plans within plans there was but one true pattern: fear for the sake of fear.
Seeing how the same patterns and themes had been interwoven into my own life, I was ready to accept that my reality wasn't what it pretended to be and I couldn't help but share what I seen with anyone who would listen. I began shouting we're not alone here and everywhere replied the same, proclaiming "that's not true!" while reacting exactly as if it were.
The admins would finally give ae911truth to u/goata_vigoda and I couldn't help but laugh in their collective faces while asking if they knew how obvious their timing was to me. They answered my question by banning the bots I'd run for years which I assume meant "Yes." I was automatically banned in MandelaEffect and GlitchInTheMatrix and became instantly-popular in places like TopMindsOfReddit, something I rather enjoyed. Many friends went suddenly silent while my mother re-introduced herself to my life just long enough to disown me for asking a question. And just in case these irrational reactions weren't enough to convince me, my housemate was briefly replaced by another entity.
What can I do about these things? Nothing but laugh because I understand the why. I have seen the only motive here. Fear for the sake of fear is frightening to me no more. I'm playing my own game now.
What's fun to me now? Helping others see these truths without having to do the stare.
I am Alice's smirking revenge.
Now if you'll excuse me, I'm off to retire. I've been thinking about settling somewhere secluded and these caves should be real cheap by now.
With thanks to those who listened to me complain my way through writing this, the eponymous Santigold album that I've had on repeat, and to you for falling through it all with me. Even if you only read through all of this, you deserve some kittens.
submitted by chrisolivertimes to chrisolivertimes

[First Contact: Volume 1 - WarpStar] Chapter 24

[Chapter 23] [Index] [Chapter 25]
Chapter 24
“The family is the first essential cell of human society.”
~Pope John XXIII
What a beautiful sunny day, he thought. He looked down, his bare feet rustling through the grass, the trees swaying in the wind all around him, children playing joyfully on this warm day. He looked up, and the sky is filled with the distant sight of the various Space Stations orbiting the planet. But something is different, not right. A Cluster of small objects are in the sky that shouldn’t be. Lights flashing, explosions! It was a battle in space. We are being invaded! Within seconds the largest of the 12 visible space stations explode, reigning fire in the sky. Then another, and another. Within minutes all twelve stations had fallen from the heavens in a fiery manner. What was this? Panic, chaos. Screams, the children were all crying and screaming for their mothers! An object starts to descent into the atmosphere, then another, and another. They are heading straight down, not slowing down but accelerating! What could this be? Impact. Blinding light. Massive energy waves, annihilating everything in its path. Impact. Impact. A wave of heat and energy washes over him, his flesh being melted from his bones instantly. He’s on a ship now, and a Space Station. Another planet. He was everywhere, and everywhere there was scramming crying. Mass Annihilation. Military personnel, civilians, women, children, there was no discrimination in this carnage. Everyone and everything was being wiped away from existence. The crying, screams of pain, agony, cries for help, “Save us, save my child’ was all he could hear. More light. More fire. Everywhere, everything. There was no escape. A blue-skinned alien appeared, laughing, smiling, in pure joy as everything else around him burned.
John woke up sweating, panting from his nightmare to the sound of his comm unit buzzing. He sat up, completely naked, and answered the call. “Hello?”
“Who is it? Its 6 A.M. tell them to go away; I want another round in before work!” said a naked woman lying in John's bed next to him.
He fluffed her off, got up, and walked to the kitchen. This was not a conversation he wanted to have next to his new friend he met at the bar last night.
“Hey, Char! What’s up?”
“Oh nothing, how’s home treating ya?” Charlene Carr said on the other end of the comm unit.
“Beautiful as ever, remind me again why we do what we do?” he gave off a sudden laugh being as playful as he can.
“Because it's glorious!” Charlene chuckled back
They spoke back and forth for several hours, John completely forgetting he had a friend lying in his bed until she walked past him fully clothed, said some profanities attacking his character, then stormed off. John didn’t care; he had just met her the night before The woman was just a random person in his life. A dot in the spectrum of the universe to him. She was just a night of fun. The one person he truly cared about, was on the other end of his comm unit, the only one he wants to talk to, and to be with. But he can’t tell her. Relationships between military personnel are accepted; however, it still is highly frowned upon if it is between a superior officer and a subordinate. They would surely split them apart if he started dating his best friend, his soul mate.
Several hours had passed, it was now a tad past noon. Charlene had invited John to her house for lunch before the event, they were both nervous for the same reason, yet neither of them could let the other know how they felt. John had hoped on a military transport from Traverse City, Michigan to Miami, Florida, then a cab to her place. The total time for the trip only took about 35 minutes, just long enough for him to get prepared to meet her parents.
Charlene opened the door, expecting to see John. She was right, but she was instantly embarrassed. This was only supposed to be a quick lunch before the convention, so she was standing in front of John, in bare feet, shorts, a tank top that was left an inch of her midriff showing. Her athletic body shined in this view. She hadn’t bothered getting adequately dressed for lunch, It was a hot summer Florida day, peaking 100 degrees. She will sweat all day later in full uniform when she goes to the convention. John was, however, in a full Navy dress uniform.
“Why the hell are you in dress?” Charlene snapped quietly at him, feeling ashamed of her clothing choice. John loved it; she never looked so beautiful. He had wished her fiery red hair was down instead of up in a ponytail; however, she was still stunningly beautiful either way.
“I had a quick brief from Admiral Collins, and I came straight here from there.” He lied. John had no military meetings in any way that day. He dressed up to impress. Who? He didn’t know.
Charlene’s father snuck up behind her, startling her, eyeing her friend who was at the door.
“Well, who do we have here?” he had said, putting his arm out to greet his new guest.
“John, sir, it’s a pleasure to meet you!” John grabbed the hand and shook with strength.
“Antonio Carr, the pleasure’s all mine….. Captain” Antonio noticed the command pip on Johns uniform and gripped his hand as hard as he could. “Shall we?”
“Whos there!” A young girl yelled out as she ran from a room. “Hi, mister, you look handsome!” she blushed as she walked up to John.
“Well hello there, I’m John it’s a pleasure to meet you!”
“Hehe..he..he.. I’m Bethany, Charlene's cousin,” the young girl gave John a pretty impressive salute.
“I’m sorry, she's been dying to meet you” Char was a bit embarrassed.
At 13 years old, Bethany Carr was awe-struck at John. She had always heard her cousin talk about him, but never been in the presence of such a legend. "Here! I want you guys to meet my friend!" is all she could muster out of her excited frame, stuttering the words faster than she could think of them. Taking Johns hand in hers, she bolted down the hall towards her room, hoping just to be dragging along the unwitting Capitan, but dragging her big cousin along as well.
"Woah," John nervously let out along with a slight chuckle as he shot a concerned look towards Charlene, who only returned with an evil grin. Being dragged down the hallway of the Carr residence, Charlene just laughed as she knew the uncomfortable position her adolescent cousin had put her Commanding Officer in. The Floridian house was not a large one; the hallway only passed by two other bedrooms before coming to what appeared to be the smallest in the house. Hot pink, Hello Kitty posters, and various other pictures of the latest boy band filled the room, overtaking the natural architect of the home.
"I was never this young!" Charlene spilled out, almost embarrassed to admit she enjoyed more girly flaunting than what was on display in front of her now.
"I bet you were younger!" John teased with a smirk and a poke at her ribs.
"Hey, Look here!" Bethany cried out before Charlene had a chance to retort Johns minor flirty comment.
John and Charlene both reluctantly looked at Bethany's pet hamster in a rather elaborate Hamster cage in one corner of the room. The little guy was chowing down on half an Apple, enjoying his meal while three gigantic humans watched in enjoyment.
"Hey, Look! It's Chester Apple-Muncher, Lester Cornhut's not so loved cousin!" Charlene blurted out, prompting an uncontrollable explosion of laughter from John and herself. Annoyed by the inside joke between the two, and the apparent insult to her pet, Bethany crossed her arms and pouted, shouting out "His name's Skippy!"
John and Charlene were silenced, looked at each other for a long few seconds, trying so desperately to hold in an outburst, but failed. They were exploding in uncontrollable laughter exponentially more potent than the first. "Oh, man!” John wiped a tear from his eyes, “theres going to be one pissed off beer can!" The laughter grew ten-fold as John collapsed to the floor, unable to control himself, as Charlene produced tears unable to show restraint.
"Grrrrraaaaan!!!" Bethany shouted, running out of her room, upset and unable to understand the inside joke of the hamster named Skippy, who should be Lester Cornhuts, cousin.
The tour was cut short when Amelia called everyone to the dinner table to enjoy a quick lunch. Char never had a moment to change from her lack of clothing, completely forgetting the awkward sense John must be having still wearing full dress while everyone else was in regular civilian attire. Antonio never let the uniform out of his sight, examining it bit by bit, getting ever so frustrated at John’s politeness. Watching his daughter be wholly lost in his spell, his anger for the fancy captain intensified.
“So, they just hand out Gold wings now?” Referring rudely and sarcastically to Johns set of wings. “I remember those used to be earned, not given.”
“Dad!” Charlene yelled out, spitting out a portion of her sandwich.
“Ya! Who did you kill to get them?” Bethany added.
“Beth!” Char shot an evil look to her cousin, face flustering red.
John didn’t know what to think, and just sat there and nodded his head.
“Capitan, huh?” Antonio turned to his daughter with a slightly disgusted look on his face. “You invited your Commanding Officer over ?” he shouted.
“Antonio!” Amelia stood up and shouted. “Have some respect for your daughter and her friend!”
“Friend? Ha!” he yelled, laughing.
“You better stop right there before you say something you regret!” Amelia stated, shaking her finger. Bethany just stuck her tongue at John, still upset over Chester Apple-Muncher.
Standing up and putting on his Dress hat John just simply replied, “I apologize, it appears I may have overstayed my welcome. `Mam, I hope you have a nice evening, and Sir, have a nice day. And you have a wonderful evening, little one!” John said as he walked out.
“See what you did now? You should be ashamed of yourself!” Amelia was embarrassed for her family over what her husband had said to their guest.
“What I did? This rotten military of ours now lets its C.O’s to take advantage of their crew so they can now screw whoever they want!” Antonio Carr shouted out.
“Why would someone want to ‘screw’ someone else? Wouldn’t that hurt?” the innocent Bethony asked, only getting a slight laugh from Char.
John stopped for a moment; he heard that remark. He was meant too. He continued walking out the door, angry but choosing not to say anything. Now was not the proper time to defend his, or Char’s honor.
Charlene came running out, holding back her tears. Her military training and pure anger for her father were holding them back. “John, I’m sorry.”
“Char, I’ll see you at the Convention” is all John said as he hoped in his cab.
1700 Event Opening.
The Crowd was huge; several thousand people had shown up to attend what is being called, the biggest unveil in human history. Corporations from across the Federation are representing their brand new product here. General Electric, Olympic Aerospace, General Motors, to name a few of the big names.
John and Charlene walked from booth to booth, never mentioning the events that transpired earlier that day, checking out what ‘new’ civilian technology has to offer. They had noticed several technologies that the Federation Navy already had employed. Tech 4 Repulserlift Technology, Anti Grav Plating, Solid Holographic Systems, but out of all of them, John was curious to know what Char was unveiling. She wouldn't tell him; it was part of the fun she said to herself. Always teasing each other about it, her discipline was strong. She even refused to give it up after John tackled her and pinned her in a classic choke.
1800 The Big Unveil.
Sitting down in the Officers row in the center of the seats, John enjoyed the view overlooking the central presentation area. Char was standing by one of the large objects covered in a black tarp, what appeared to be a fighter of some sort. The only reason to request a demonstration from a top Federation pilot was to showcase some advanced civilian aircraft; John was still guessing as to what this was.
“Ladies and Gentleman,” the announcer shouted “I am Augustus Packmeier, Senior V.P. of Research and Development for Olympic Aerospace Industries. I am pleased to introduce to you today a groundbreaking new technological Achievement!”
Augustus went on to explain in great biased detail, why his company is the leader in the industry, then Introduced something unexpected. A fully functional neural interface for small spacecraft. John had heard rumors of such a device, and he had expected to see the Navy experiment in it before the civilian population got ahold of it. Still, this time it seems the private market beat the military to the punch.
The neural interface directly connects the user's mind, via a small contact node on the skull, directly to the computer system on the craft. The direct link would significantly reduce reaction times since all the pilots had to do was to think what they wanted, no longer waiting for the lag of the human muscles to react to the commands of the brain.
1900 The Test Flight
Charlene Carr, 24-year-old ace pilot. Flying a brand new aircraft for a private company, John would have lost that bet if anyone would have put him to it. Charlene could not believe how the interface made her feel; she never felt freer and in control of her life. The aircraft reacted quicker than she could move her arms to imitate moving a flight yolk, or stick. John and her father were watching in amazement as she showed off her skills. Looping around, banking from left to right, quicker than any typical pilot ever could. Antonio was proud to see her daughter in her natural environment, showing off to the world her skills, John falling ever more in love with her and hating himself for it. Wishing he could be up there with her or away from the event. Forcing his feelings deep down inside, where they belong, so they never surface.
“You love her, don’t you?” An unknown man said just inside John’s hearing.
“What?” startled, John looked behind him to find a man in his 50’s, full civilian clothing, looking oddly familiar.
“Walk with me; I have something that might interest you.”
Antonio glanced down for a moment to watch John and a strange man walk away from the flight. He had no idea what this was about; he didn’t care. He wanted to keep an eye on her commanding officer, feeling the need to protect his daughter from horrible men that would use her, in this case, her skills. He feared John is using Charlene’s amazing flight skills to advance his career. At least it was a better option than Tiffany’s ex-husband, who beat her until she almost died one night. Antonio would still accept a career shark over a monster like that.
“What is this?” asked John as he was lead to a tree a reasonable distance from the crowd.
“Capitan John Henderson,” the illusive man replied.
“Do I know you?”
“No, but I know you.”
“I don’t have much time so whoever you are, get to the point.” John had a bad vibe from the situation and was not in the mood to play any sort of mind games, trying to cut right to the chase on who this person was and what he wanted.
“Good, I don’t have much time,” he replied, “Here, you need to examine this data.” The man handed John a portable data drive as he searched the area around him, trying to find some elusive threat.
“What's on it?”
“Proof,” trying to explain as quickly as he could.
“Proof of what ?”
“Of the massive lie and coverup the Federation is doing. I can't tell you much, the first thing you need to know is the Republic is not dormant, they are about to strike. very soon.”
The Russian Republic has not made a play for the Sol system, or any other Federation territory for some time. Only minor skirmishes here and there have popped up over the last few years. Many have speculated they were planning a major offensive, while others believe the Republic is finally tired of the fighting.
“And second,” the man continues, “The Federation has had contact with the Sumerians before.”
“What?” John was surprised. No one should know that name yet, the Federation was planning on going public with the news that first contact had finally been established, and a representative from the planet Sumeria had been talking to them. The Federation has not yet gone public, and no one should know that name.
“Why are you telling me this?”
“I have my reasons.”
“What the hell is going on here?” Antonio Carr shouted as he interrupted the meeting.
John turned his head, surprised to find Charlene's father, interrupting a potentially vital intelligence meeting for the Federation.
“You need to go back,” yelled John, as he turned back to the Illusive man, he was nowhere to be seen.
“Son of a Bitch!” yelled John, “What the hell is your problem?” John could no longer hold back his anger towards the man. He had just disrupted a potential intelligence op for a threat to the Federation.
“My problem is you, sneaking off making deals out back here, what did he give you? Its Snap-five Isn't it?”
SNAP-five seems to be the current drug of choice for kids and heavy drug users; it is known to cause massive hallucinations.
“Are you out of your mind?” John shouted, not holding back. “I could have you arrested right now!”
The argument was promptly interrupted when three loud bangs were heard in the distance. Thinking the worst, they looked up towards Charlene’s fighter. She’s still skipping and hopping about. Off in the distance was 5 Fireballs descending the sky and heading this way.
“What the hell?” Shouted a confused Antonio.
While grabbing his comm unit and activating it, John started calmly giving orders, a tribute to his military training. “Henderson to WarpStar, I need intel on my location, five unknown contacts about 200 klicks out, entering atmo, descending fast.”
Antonio Carr just observed the man in front of him, going from kid to military leader in his eyes in a split second.
“Unknown boogies,” replied someone on the other end. “Classification unknown, meteoroid ruled out, space debris ruled out. They are emitting E.M. signatures, non-natural objects.”
“What are they, John?” Antonio asked
“I’m not sure,” Replied john while keeping his eyes on them.
1930. The Attack
It came out of nowhere. She quickly banked left to find herself almost colliding with an unknown aircraft. No, spacecraft! Char had no idea what was out there, and they were not even appearing on her sensors. Within seconds these five unknown crafts started opening fire on the crowed. Firing at anything and everyone, without discrimination of who or what was down there destroying other projects from the other companies. Two of the unknown assailants noticed Charlene's aircraft banking wide to come to the assault and broke off, heading right towards her.
Watching in horror, Antonio Carr was powerless to help his daughter. He wanted so desperately to help, but he had to let go. She was in the military, and it was her job to protect him. Banking up, down, left then right, she twisted and turned her fighter every way possible, dodging energy blast after energy blast, only coming within a hair of getting hit every time. She caught the attention of three out of the five, trying to chase her down, firing at every direction they could, missing every time. Charlene was able to predict the trajectory of each bolt and find a way to squeeze between each blast. She was powerless; however, she had no weapons if something was not done quickly, no matter how maneuverable the ship, how skilled the pilot, only by chance she will fall from the sky.
John was watching, and this is it. ‘This’ is the damned Republic attack that guy just warned me.’ His mind was running wild with the thought. He had to do something, Charlene had no defenses.
“Henderson to WarpStar, I need air support at my location Immediately.”
~Static~
“What the hell?” John looked at his Communicator. ‘Unable to establish connection’ read on display.
“What does that mean?” Antonio asked.
“They are jamming Communications; no one knows what is happening!”
“You got to do something! That’s my daughter up there!”
He was right, John had to do something, or thousands of innocent lives will be lost. Then, it came to him. Communications may have been jammed, but to jam, every signal would take a power source so massive, it would have been detected on the ground long before it was active. These fighters had to be the one jamming the signals. If a fighter blocked out ten different sets of frequencies, there was only a handful that could be useful.
“Betsy!” Shouted John
“Your girlfriend is going to help?” Antonio asked, hoping to get more than one answer with one word.
John changed a few settings on his comm unit, and pointed it to the sky in a precise location.
“Betsy, do you read?” John Asked.
“Loud and clear Capitan,” the A.I Betsy replied.
‘Oh great,’ Antonio thought, ‘Another crew member under his spell.’
“Initiate Protocol, Alpha Charley, Seven Seven Three, Authorization, Pie Theta Henderson Twelve,” John sputtered in his Comm unit.
‘What the hell is he doing?’ Antonio couldn’t figure out what John was planning.
“Command accepted, unable to execute, command override in place. WarpStar control lock inplace”
“Override Protocol, Theta Nine, Authorization Henderson Two Two Fifteen”
“Command Accepted, attempting to hack dock controls.”
Betsy managed to hack the WarpStar computer, overriding the fighter lock in place. She opened the Bay doors and flew out without any restraint. Within seconds, she locked position and began her descent as quickly as she could.
Charlene managed to get two of them to follow her over the Ocean, at least here when they fired, there would be no casualties performing various maneuvers to attempt to trick her two friends. It did not take Charlene long to notice something about her two ‘friends’ that gave her quite the advantage. They were not very skilled, and they seemed to have never flown together as a unit before. Both of them had no idea of the others flight style, capabilities, or weaknesses. Both were competing with each other for the kill shot, neither of them skilled enough to predict any of her movements. ‘Sloppy,’ Charlene thought as she maneuvered into position to use this discovery to her advantage.
It did not take long for her to get her first opportunity. She noticed several times the two almost collided with each other, from an apparent lack of experience. She took it, with a roll to the left, and a quick roll to the right she commanded a rapid ascent with her mind, and the plane rose quickly to the stars. She couldn’t hold it for long; this aircraft was just that, an Aircraft. They were not designed to exit the atmosphere in any way.
Banking from left to right, avoiding any shot fired at her, she made her move. At almost two thousand feet until her altitude ceiling, she began her trap. In a standard maneuver like this, she would set herself up to complete a loop, and bank backward. Carr, however, commanded her stick to go down instead of up. One of her pursuers predicted the move. However, the second did not. The one that predicted the move quickly followed suit, banking downwards while the other pilot attempted to bank up to complete a loop. The second Republic pilot was new to the art of aerial combat strategies and had not much training in the simulators, or in real-world environments. He was a farm duster for the rice fields of China; his youth brain told him to follow his pray in a backward loop maneuver, not considering the advanced tactics of the Federation pilot would counter and break the maneuver and bank downwards. The young farm duster quickly saw his mistake, as his Russian partner’s fighter promptly came into view right above his cockpit, and both ships collided with each other, sending them down into the Ocean in a fiery ball.
The horror, blasts of energy, was ripping through buildings, massacring women and children all around them. Antonio Carr watched in disgust as this nightmare unfolded around him. He had lost sight of his daughter in the sky; he saw her fly towards the Atlantic Ocean, bringing three of the assailants with her. When things couldn’t get any worse, he noticed another fireball coming down from the sky. ‘More of them?’ he thought. This day couldn’t get any worse as a bolt of superheated plasma struck around a hundred feet from him, dirt, gravel, and grass rained in the sky came upon Antonio and John as they braced to protect themselves from the heated mess.
Grabbing John’s arm, Antonio yelled through this chaos “Come on, we got to get out of here.”
“Not yet!” John shouted as the fireball got closer to them. Within seconds the fireball slowed to a crawl, shedding the red-orange glow once surrounding it and emerged as a fighter, unlike the attackers. Antonio was confused as it came close, swung around both of them, and came down to a landing right in front of him.
With a confused look on his face, Antonio watched as the cockpit opened up, with no one to greet them. John hoped in, and pressed a few buttons. “Better get back to your Family, ill take it from here” inputting a few more commands into the computer he throttled up the engines and put on his helmet while the cockpit closed and sealed. A second later, the fighter lifted off the ground and shot straight into the air. Antonio Carr could not shake the awe he just witnessed, as John had somehow called down a military attack fighter and hoped in. Joining in the fight, aiming to help protect the citizens in danger, and more importantly, save his daughter.
“Alright Betsy, lets prep for atmospheric combat” John quickly pulled up on his yolk, sending power to the chemical atmosphere thrusters forcing the fighter to push 6 g’s.
“Weapon systems charged, targeting computer online. Systems are active,” Betsy chimed in calmly, knowing her existence was in direct danger. “Captain, one of the attackers, have noticed we have entered the field and has matched our climb.”\
“Alright, let's see what he's capable of” John quickly pushed hard down on the yolk, putting the fighter into a straight nose dive, altimeter now fast-moving down from forty six thousand feet.
The X-401 military fighter known as ‘Betsy Ross’ quickly flew past the first Republic attacker, shaking him up on the pass. The Russian pilot promptly recovered and began to follow John as the pair got closer to the surface of the planet. John strategically angled toward the remaining two, who was still actively assaulting the fair, watching his speed begin to approach dangers velocities.
“Warning, Airspeed too fast. Slow down,” the flight computer that John had neglected to disable so Betsy could have full control chirmed in Johns's ear.
“Sir, I recommend slowing.”
“Not yet, get a lock on those two and arm the missiles.”
“Approaching fifteen kilometers to targets, missile lock established.”
John did not need to respond, he quickly fired two birds and yanked on the yolk, pitching up and slightly to the left, attempting to maneuver around the area.
Energy weapons had played a dominant role in military weapons in the current period, being preferred to the older kinetic style weapon systems. In aireal and sea combat, however, kinetic weapons still played a role that energy weapons could not. When the pilot wanted to shoot a target on the move, and not chance hitting any collateral objects if the target had maneuvered out of the way, an energy shot could not adjust hits course. A missile could. John had banked on the idea that once he launched his two birds, the Republic pilots would notice a clear lock on them and attempt to outmaneuver the missiles, evading their way outside of the danger zone for the civilians. Even if John did not score any hits, he still succeeded in luring them away from the area.
John did not score any hits; both pilots quickly evaded the missiles and launched countermeasures, detonating the weapons safely causing no harm to any party. This had put a big target on John as he attempted to lure them towards the Ocean, where he could easily engage battle at zero risk to any civilian population. John's plan worked like a charm.
“Warning!!” Asshole Steve shouts in John's ears. “Missile lock, Evade, Evade, Evade, Evade.”
“Sir”
“I know Betsy, shut up I'm working” John rolled and dove, quickly avoiding two missiles from hitting his small ship.
“Sir”
“Betsy!! I know!!” John shouted while pulling hard on the yolk, banking hard to the right, avoiding laster blast after blast unsuccessfully.
“Sir, I have another incoming contact.” ‘Shit,’ John thought as he continued to fail to dodge the thousands of plasma blasts from the three fighters aggressively pursuing him, unable to make hard maneuvers in the atmosphere of a planet.
“Alpha One, this is Alpha two. Need a hand?” a familiar voice chirped over the communication systems. It was Char. ‘Oh no’ Johns stomach sank. She was piloting a defenseless aircraft: no weapons, no shielding, and no armor plating. John's shields were holding, but wouldn’t take much beating for long. She would be unable to withstand this abuse. “Negative Alpha Two, proceed to containment zone, and secure” John gave the order over the comm.
“With all due respect, John. No”
“Excuse me, Ensign?”
“No uniform, Off duty. No orders. Now, let's get these guys to swim with the fishes!”
Char’s disobedience gave John mixed emotions. Instantly anger flooded him, but quickly subsided as he realized she was right. They both were off duty at the time, and she did not have to follow his orders. Then it hit him, she is going to attempt to save John at all costs, and he could not allow her to put herself in that kind of danger with absolutely no protection or a way to defend herself. At most, she could do is provide bait. “Negative Alpha Two” John repeated “proceed to containment zone” John did the only thing he knew would put her out of danger, climb. “Betsy, activate the sublights.” The fighter powered down its atmospheric chemical thrusters and engaged the small fusion generator, pumping out trillions of ions out of its two feeble engines, providing enough thrust to rocket the ship upwards to exit the atmosphere. Two of the fighters followed suit, matching Johns climb to engage without the confines of an atmosphere while the other banked left and downward to engage Charlene.
“Shit, Alpha Two you have a boogie on your pursuit.”
“Alpha One aye, will handle, take care of your friends” static came over the comms as the two drifted outside of comm range from the jamming as Johns view quickly turned from a blue haze to black. The two Republic pilots were no match for John once he reached space, the agile 401 fighter took no time in maneuvering behind the two and eliminating them with a few blasts from the plasma cannons. The pilots did not have time to process the black sky as their craft melted from the insane temperatures of the plasma bolts.
“Missile Lock. Evade Evade Evade Evade” Asshole Steve shouted in Char’s ears as her neural link began to get hot on her head from over excessive use. Banking left to right, up and down, avoiding shot after shot from the plasma cannon of the Republic fighter char quickly saw her target. A small island off of the coast of Cuba. A quick evasive flyover of the island revealed any form of obvious life did not inhabit it, and Charlene chose this as her target.
“Too close Evade Evade” Asshole Steve never seemed to shut up as Char’s heart beat faster and faster by the second, first degree burns forming on her scalp from the connections of the neural link unable to safely process Char’s commands at the speed she needed them. She narrowly avoided a missile as she wished she could dump E.M. jammers from the belly of her aircraft, but she had none on this civilian flying deathtrap. Three hard banks later, she had an idea, and she executed it without thought. She knew where the one last assailant was, quickly following her tail dumping ungodly amounts of wattage and superheated plasma in the atmosphere attempting to strike down its target. Char immediately targeted her sensors on the missile, and the rocket alone. She was flooding it with electromagnetic pings with increasing frequency and intensity. Hoping to overcome the missile's sensors, she banked one last time, as the flying death shaft flew past her, and collided with the Ocean.
Char saw her opportunity. This would be it, and she would never get another one. Time to execute her most daring and bold plan she ever has. Banking towards the assailant, she began to rush towards him at full power. Playing a game of aerial chicken, dodging and avoiding thousands of bolts of plasma hurled towards her while her neural link began to melt the flesh off her skull. The moment she passed the Russian, she banked hard towards the sky. The Russian was no fool; following her, he saw his opportunity to end his target finally. This would be it, and she could not exit the atmosphere, the craft was not designed for it, while his was. When she shot downwards towards the surface, he began to panic. Following suit, both fighters began barreling towards the tiny island just off the coast of Cuba, bolts of superheated plasma being thrown from the pursuer to the pursue, dodging every blast sent her way.
“Too low. Pull up!! Pull up!” Asshole Steve was at it again. Ignoring him, Char attempted to push the throttle as hard as she could, trying to gain more speed out of the already maxed out aircraft, avoiding the smell of burnt hair and flesh as she continues to prevent the blast of plasma after the other.
“Too low, terrain. Pull up! Too low, terrain. Pull up!” Asshole Steve finally gave her the words she was looking for. The warning sound as she approached the three thousand feet warning. She was in a dangerous position. Rocketing at terminal velocity towards the Earth, she had very little time to act and pull up. Using all her might, she sent the command to the neural link to give the aircraft everything it had to pull up.
“Arrrrrrrrgggghhhh!” Char screamed in a combination of pain and struggled as fear ripped through her bones, and her flesh and hair caught fire from the overused neural link. The Republic fighter was not so lucky. Unable to compensate in time, the plane barreled right into the island, creating a massive fireball and shockwave as the fusion engines exploded. Unfortunately for Charlene, she was focusing everything on doing the climb to pull her out of her nose dive, she was unable to maneuver, and a plasma bolt scored a direct hit on her fuselage right at her port wing assembly.
“Eject! Eject! Eject!” Asshole steve screamed as Char was quickly put into a port side spin, the wing ripping off from the metal hosing hold after being melted from the hull. Barreling at Mach 5, Char knew she couldn’t simply escape. She had to take whatever was coming for her; even if she were going at a much slower speed, the constant spinning would throw her seat straight into the Ocean, spelling a quick death for the young pilot.
She traveled 120 miles spinning all in the span of a few seconds before impacting with the Ocean, a few miles outside of Key West. The cockpit was designed from an alloy of metals found in the asteroid belt, making it one of the sturdiest planes in the air, which is the only reason Charlene survived the impact. The rest of the aircraft crumbled like a can on impact, protecting the pilot but knokcking her unconscious from the force. Several tourists visiting the Florida keys saw the impact and quickly contacted the coast guard. Unknowing to the onlookers, it was a useless gesture as John had already made his descent back into the atmosphere, and witnessed the entire event. Panicking, he quickly maneuvered Betsy over the wreck, threw the 401 in hover mode and opened the cockpit, and jumped into the water to swim over to the burning wreckage to save his friend. Coast Guard rescue craft quickly swarmed the area as John pulled a limp Charlene Carr from the cockpit, her glasses broken and missing most of her hair with third-degree burns all over her scalp. Tears formed in his eyes as he held her, waiting for the EMT’s to lower their craft to pick her up. She was alive, but barely, opening her eyes for a quick second noticing a teared John holding her, screaming for help to get there faster all she could muster was “Did we do it, are the civilians safe?” before she slipped into a coma. Olympic Aerospace gained a lot of respect from John after this, for building the most sturdy cockpit known.
The Carr family sat in horror as they watched the news feed tell the story of the Federation military fighter hovering over a crash sight, a man jumping from the fighter into the waters to save the crash victim. The news had no idea who they were, but the Carr family knew. They watched as John jumped into the burning wreckage and pulled a near lifeless Charlene Carr from the wreckage and help put her into the ambulance. She was their daughter, sister, aunt. He was a stranger to them, a man who, at one point, was a degenerate, now a hero. Antonio Carr couldn’t be angry at any of them at this moment. John saved his daughter, and his daughter saved hundreds of lives today at the risk of her own. As they sat crying, Antonio never felt more pride in his life as he watched his daughter fight for hers.
submitted by JLMaynor-Author to redditserials