Burning the Precincts

“These people are not afraid of all violence: only of individual violence. They have no objection to battlefields, and policemen, and electric chairs, and other ornaments of the present system. So long as violence is committed in the name of the State they are happy. As a matter of fact the voluntaryists don’t propagate violence. They only struggle against what already exists, and it is necessary to defend against violence with violence. That is the only way that a new peace can dawn.”

~ Emma Goldman, 1909

The American people have been patient for decades while the police murder more and more of us. Last year, the police murdered over a thousand Americans. Police unions are against any form of oversight, any meaningful review of police conduct, and will not tolerate dissent within their ranks. All police are volunteers, none are conscripted. They chose this work, and they chose to cooperate with those police who commit crimes in the name of their fraternal solidarity.

The people in power never have any control except such control as 332 million Americans are willing to provide through patience, some obedience, and limited responses. There are 200 million Americans who live in a home with one or more guns. The government counts “firearms” and claims only 87 million Americans “own firearms” but many guns are not registered with any government, and many guns are not as-defined firearms. I believe there are over 750 million guns in America, and since 3D printed guns have a marginal cost of $8 plus electricity, millions more are on their way.

Tonight, at 01:00 east coast time on Friday 29 May, there are two police precinct buildings in Minneapolis which are on fire, and I gather police retreated from both locations. The people have captured the buildings and have taken possession of all the equipment their tax dollars paid to provide them.

Those in power may ask: How did we lose control?

Quite simple, really. You never had control. We had patience. We were frustrated by the ways you treated Americans, the ways you allowed police to murder us, and we have been outraged by the prison for profit industry that incarcerates millions of Americans and arrests millions more every year. Yet we have been patient.

We’ve been frustrated by the red flag laws and the deaths of people like Duncan Socrates Lemp and Breonna Taylor. We’ve objected to the conduct of police in many specific instances. And we’ve patiently awaited some justice.

George Floyd was a very good man, and beloved of family and community. He was murdered, in cold blood, by a police officer, while other officers stood and watched. And now Minneapolis is on fire. Shots have been fired in Louisville, Kentucky. Protesters have been maced in New York and Los Angeles. Protesters are in other cities, too, facing the police. In all, some 27 cities seem to have active protests going on right now.

My Experiences

My first experience being falsely charged with crimes I did not commit was in 1991. It was not the last. Since then I have been arrested many times, in many states, for various reasons. I’ve never been convicted of a felony. I have been badly beaten by police, including eleven broken bones and a damaged lung on one occasion.

Also, I’ve had the experience of watching the events surrounding the police murder of Philando Castile, Michael Brown, George Floyd, Breonna Taylor, Duncan Lemp, and many, many others.

Some of the readers of this essay will insist that the rioters are always wrong. But, let’s remember that the riots in Los Angeles did not happen until *after* the police officers who beat Rodney King were given a change of venue and then acquitted by a Simi Valley jury. People are patient while there is some reason to believe justice may occur.

Today there is no reason to believe that the system will police the system. The police will investigate the police and the police will exonerate the police. And what are you going to do?

You’ll next want to take me to task because a Target store near the Third Precinct in Minneapolis, where the murderers of George Floyd worked was looted and burned. That store prominently donated to the Third Precinct. I gather there was a longstanding animosity between store management and the local population. But, let’s be clear, if you don’t want your business destroyed, don’t allow your government to let the police your taxes support the murder of men and women in cold blood on camera. Also, keep in mind that the peaceful protests two nights ago were attacked by Minneapolis police.

Mobs are not entities with controls. Expecting a violent mob to be rational is not itself a rational expectation. So, if you don’t like mob violence, do what you can to avoid provoking enough people to form a mob.

Target, AutoZone, Wendy’s and the other businesses were deemed essential while many small businesses were forced to close. That’s unjust, and that’s your government. Employers collect payroll taxes which go to the government after 90 days (yes, they keep that money for a while, how nice) and they collect income tax (sometimes state and local as well as federal). Businesses collect sales tax which funds the city government. And businesses pay lobbyists to get what they want, and apparently what they want is police unions to have ultimate power and police officers to have zero accountability. So, cry me a river about the burned out businesses.

The people in power never had control. They had the patience of the American people. That patience is gone, and it is time for it to stay gone.

Do the people in power want to end these riots? Then they can answer these demands:

  1. All police officers involved in crimes will be arrested and prosecuted to the full extent of the law.
  2. All prison for profit industries will be ended, and all profits from incarceration will be distributed to the taxpayers directly.
  3. Unreasonable bail will end and cruel and unusual punishment will end.
  4. All calls to and from jail will be free of charge at all times. Over a billion dollars profit was made extorting collect call fees from the families of the arrested, and none of the family members were even accused of a crime let alone convicted, so stop punishing them.
  5. Conditions at all jails will be open for inspection every day by local volunteers for humane treatment of prisoners, proper food, access to health care, and decent conditions of imprisonment.
  6. The public defenders are meant to plea bargain convictions, and the prosecutors are paid bonuses for extra convictions. These practices will now end.
  7. All records of all police brutality will be made public and all future police camera recordings (bodycams, dashcams, etc.) will be live streamed to blockchains and publicly available at all times. Those are our cameras, our tax dollars paid for them, and if you want to pretend those are our public servants, let’s see everything they do all the time.
  8. All police unions will be closed and all police pensions will be seized pending investigation of all accusations of crimes by police. Police who are convicted of criminal behaviour will forfeit all their property. Police who do not arrest the police will be fired – knowing of a crime and not arresting the criminal is police foulness and it must end.
  9. Police who are convicted of crimes will be incarcerated with the general population at all times. If the police do not like how they are treated by prisoners, they will reconsider how they treat suspects.

Unless these demands are met, there is no reason to believe that there can be justice.

There can be no peace without justice. There can be no justice without freedom. There can be no freedom without weapons. And until those in power earn our respect, we’re keeping ourselves on high alert. Our patience is gone.

Download pdf.

Contact: jim@resilientways.net


Jim Davidson is an author, entrepreneur, actor, and director. He is the cfo of KanehCN3.com and the vision director of HoustonSpaceSociety.net You can find him on Twitter.com/planetaryjim as well as Pocket.app and Flote.app also as planetaryjim. He appreciates any support you can provide as times are very difficult. See the Paypal link on this page. Or email your humble author to offer other choices. Visit IglooLuau.com for more information. Those seeking a multi-jurisdiction multi-hop VPN for communications privacy please visit https://secure.cryptohippie.com/houstonspacesociety.php For those seeking colloidal silver try ppmSilver.com/Jim Ask Jim about CryptoWealth.

The Year AD 5023

[Continued from Part One Part Two Part Three Part Four Part Five Part Six Part Seven, Part Eight] [Parts Nine, Ten, & Eleven part Twelve part Thirteen part Fourteen part Fifteen part Sixteen &Seventeen Title and Art Contest] [part Eighteen] [part Nineteen] [part Twenty] [part Twenty-one] [part Twenty-two] [part Twenty-three] [part Twenty-four] [part Twenty-five] [part Twenty-six] [part Twenty-seven] [part Twenty-eight] [part Twenty-nine][part Thirty][part Thirty-one][part Thirty-two] [part Thirty-three]

“Long ago, as it still is today, it was the custom for a boy who reached a certain age to go into the forest and wait for a dream. He would build a small lodge and go without food for many days in the hope he would be visited by some animal or spirit of the forest that would take pity on him and give guidance and power.”

~ Ojibwe traditional story

Hort was a man. He knew that he was a man because he had completed his vision quest two summers ago. As every member of his tribe had done for all the generations known to the wise ones, Hort had spent a week in the wilderness, fasting the first three days, praying, exercising, eating only what he gathered, tending his own fire, boiling drinking water from the streams and ponds. He was fifteen years old when he went on his vision quest.

The vision he had was of a passageway, a place nearby. The place in his vision felt as though he had been there before, it felt familiar to him. Yet its appearance was unlike any place he had ever been.

Hort’s tribe lived in a cavern that was toward the high end of a canyon. The wise ones, Eli and Eleana, had told him the stories of their past. How the world had been created along with the sky and all the universe. How mankind had risen to greatness, become depraved, been cast down into suffering, clawed their way back again and again and again. Or, as Eli would often say, how mankind had been chained to the wheel of history.

When Hort had become a man, Eli and to some extent Eleana, became more forthcoming with answers to his questions. He had asked about the passageway in his vision.

Eli had nodded and had said, “Yes, that is a place that is familiar to me. I know this passageway. Where it would lead you, I don’t know. But I know that to approach it, you need more knowledge than you have. If you seek that knowledge, I can share with you techniques that will aid you. Since your vision tells you that you are familiar with that passageway, it is a choice you face, whether to seek the knowledge to gain entrance, or to eschew that knowledge and stay away.”

Hort had nodded in his own way, slowly but thoughtfully. He had said, “It seems like my destiny is along that passageway, and that what you are saying is that I have the choice to go there, to pursue my destiny as shown in this vision, or to remain in ignorance.”

Eli’s nod this time had been very brief, a simple down and up motion of his chin. “We live well here, and in peace. We have knowledge of the foods and the paths through the forests. We have connexions to the other tribes nearby and through them trade and commerce with peoples and lands all around us and many places far from us. Living is easy. The path to greater knowledge represented by the passageway is difficult. It is fraught with intellectual challenges, spiritual challenges, emotional challenges, and physical challenges.”

Hort had said, “Yet there are rewards. There was a feeling of fulfilment that came to me as I walked along that passageway in my vision. Nor am I able to put away the vision’s key lesson: there is information that I do not know, the seeking of which opens more knowledge. Choosing to turn away from that knowledge cannot ever be satisfying, because I know it is there. When I was a child and knew not, there was nothing missing for me. But now, knowing that there is knowledge to be gained, I cannot stop knowing it is there, even were I to choose not to look for it.”

Eli had smiled. “Yes,” he’d said, “that is a great truth. Not knowing what you do not know, you do not perceive a lack. Knowing that there are things you do not know causes you to seek to know more, and, while that way is an endless struggle against the boundaries of ignorance, it satisfies the craving to know some of what you do not know, and to learn more about the extent to which there is even more knowledge to be learned. The choices before you represent infinite possibilities no matter what you choose. The choices relating to remaining ignorant are as diverse and as infinite as those leading toward greater knowledge, but they are attached to a feeling of longing and dissatisfaction. Your vision has shown you the joys of the path of knowledge.”

Hort had turned his head aside, thinking of the choice before him. Then he had looked back at Eli’s face. He said, “You’ve spoken about the past greatnesses, the times of accomplishment, of mastery. Tell me, have we ever gotten past the wheel of history? Were we ever worthy of greater things?”

Eli had smiled, then grinned, then laughed. He had said, “Yes, we are. We are very worthy.”

Those words still troubled Hort, but knowing the ways of the wise ones, he would need to return to this topic another time. Hort had again asked if his people were past the wheel of history or not, but Eli had only smiled. Then Hort had asked about the way forward.

Eli had responded, “In order to gain entry to the passageway, you must answer questions. These are not my questions, so it does no good to ask my why these are the questions. But, since I have been within the outer foyer, I know the answers to gain entry there. Part of the work Eleana and I do here is to share the questions with you and help you learn the answers. The first question is: what shapes are the Earth, the Sun, and the Moon?”

Hort had thought only a moment before answering. He had said, “The Sun appears to be a circle in the sky and the Moon does, as well.”

Again, Eli had smiled. “Yes, I am aware of their appearances. But the question is not what they appear to be, but what they are. That is a more difficult question, isn’t it?”

Hort had nodded. He had thought back on his fifteen years. What had he seen that would help him answer this question?

Hort had said, “You drew attention to the eclipses of the Sun and of the Moon whenever these could be seen in our sky. So, if I conceive of a shape for each of these bodies, one way to test that conception is to consider what shadows are cast by each object upon the others. When the Moon is seen against the Sun, it hides an arc. When Earth’s shadow is seen on the surface of the Moon, it is always shaped as some part of a circle. For that to be true, it ought to be spherical in overall shape, but it could be open to the sky as long as light cannot pass through the entire shell in the direction of the Moon during an eclipse. I cannot imagine another shape that would match what I’ve seen.”

Eli had nodded. He’d said, “You may come to see what happens if you choose to answer as you’ve spoken just now. The next question you’ll be asked is: how large is Earth?”

That question involved a great deal more discussion, just to get a sense of how to go about finding the answer. In completing a journey of hundreds of miles, Hort had come to a greater understanding of his part of the world. Walking, driving around in wagons, and riding horseback were important skills in his culture. His people insisted that all sons and daughters, before their fifteenth year, knew how to ride, how to swim, and how to shoot. It was regarded as a matter of essential understanding to craft a bow and to make arrows.

The discussion of methods led Hort to make a rod eight feet long and to measure the shadow it cast at noon on the autumnal equinox at two locations separated by over eight hundred miles distance. He also had to develop a tool to reliably measure that distance accurately during the journey. All these activities took Hort many months.

Learning the trigonometry to calculate the circumference of the Earth was less physically rigorous, but also took many weeks of tutelage from Eleana, who was their teacher of mathematics, sciences, and healing arts. Understanding how very large the planet was and how little of it he had seen was one of the great aspects to this work, a humbling experience, but also thrilling.

There were, of course, many other questions that needed to be answered. Which planets have satellites? How far away is Venus? Why does Venus have phases, and why doesn’t Mars? How far is the Moon? How far is the Sun? How long does it take Jupiter to complete an orbit of the Sun?

In order to see the major satellites of Jupiter, Hort had been shown how to make a mirror, how to silver it, and how to shape it. With Eli’s help he had constructed a Newtonian reflector. Eli was all about the practical arts, buildings and gardens, plumbing, furniture, looms, and the harnesses they used for horses and cows. In another era, Eli would have been known as the village blacksmith.

Finally, Hort had been invited to come into the home of Eli and Eleana. As part of his coming of age ceremony, Hort would take a meal and talk with the wise ones. Since his vision had revealed him in the passageway, there had been two years of preparation. So, although Hort knew that he was a man and had been for two years, it was on his seventeenth birthday that he was to take his ceremonial supper with the wise ones and be fully embraced as an adult member of his tribe.

That day was today! Hort woke up early and filled with energy. He jumped out of his furs and blankets, pulled on his clothes, and left his hut. Having status as a man had meant building his own hut within the great cavern. Hort had chosen a location near the cave mouth, but inside one of the inner tunnels.

Children lived communally in the main cavern, where up to eighty of them would run around, build their own toys, play hide and seek, hold races, or head out into the nearby canyons and forests with their families or in groups. There were always many things to see, many things to gather, and as children grew and learned to swim, fish to catch, or as they made their first bows and fletched their first arrows, game to hunt. Families had individual huts within and outside the cavern system, some well outside it in the forest. Some huts were at ground level, others high in trees.

All kinds of foods were cultivated, including mushrooms, vegetables, livestock. There were silver lodes which members of the tribe would work from time to time. Eli would help in the work of refining, and they had craftspeople who would make jewellery or furnishings out of silver. Selling these craftworks was part of the trade network in the region, which made it possible for Hort to travel by wagon and horse to distant places.

The Vestibule

The day of his seventeenth birthday was a whirlwind for Hort. He spent much of the time with his girlfriend Joelle. She had been his constant companion since they were both thirteen. They would walk in the woods, gather foods and flowers, make crafts together, study their lessons together. As they had grown older, they had become lovers.

Celebrations of birthdays and other festivals were a part of the joy of living in their tribe. Families would craft gifts for the people with birthdays, often for weeks in advance. Joelle had a very soft pelt from a puma she had killed two years earlier when it had threatened one of the youngsters. Joelle had sent three arrows into its face within seconds, the second arrow penetrating the cat’s left eye and killing it before the third had entered its mouth.

So the occasion at that time was celebration, of course, to honour Joelle for protecting the children. For weeks after she would give lessons in how to hold arrows for fast shooting, and would tutor others in the tribe in making the shots fast and accurate. Also during those weeks, she learned to tan and treat the fur to make the skin soft, supple, and the fur soft.

Today she presented Hort with a jacket made from the fur. It was a wonderful gift, sized to fit him, with a full lining made from silk that had been brought from far to the South. There were pockets inside the jacket, including one for a slide rule that Eli and Hort had crafted to make his calculations go faster.

That evening, as the Sun was setting, Hort found Eli at his forge. Eli smiled at his young friend, whose fur jacket looked resplendent in the evening light. It was early October, and evenings were beginning to get cooler, so the jacket was just the thing to keep warm.

Eli doused the fires in his forge, arranged his tools, and walked with Hort to the hut that Eli shared with Eleana. Inside, there was a feast laid out on tables. The three of them filled fired clay plates and sat comfortably by a small fireplace eating with silver utensils.

After their meal, Eli looked at Eleana, who smiled. She said, “Hort, it is not every youngster who has the vision of the passageway. It has been seven years since the last time we have come to this point in the coming of age ceremony with anyone else. You won’t remember Siena, though, I don’t think, as she has not been back since setting forth along the passageway.”

Hort thought back in his memory. He had a vague recollection of the name Siena, but nothing about the woman nor the time of her presence with the tribe. These thoughts mixed with some concerns, though.

With trepidation in his voice, Hort asked, “Will I be coming back after many years?”

Eleana shook her head slowly. “If you are to take companions with you, as Siena did, then you may go for a long time. Often, though, there is not such a lengthy journey involved. People come and go as they are led, and as they choose. Remember, we are free. We are the tribe of the free, the Ama-gi. Whatever we do, we always live free. No one will ever make you do anything against your will.”

Hort nodded. These were very basic facts. He understood.

Eleana asked, “Are you ready to begin your journey, or do you have more questions?”

Hort thought for a moment, and said, “I don’t really know what else to ask. You’ve said that you don’t know where the passageway is going to take me. I’m not really sure that I understand, though. Eli said he has been in the outer foyer. I gather from what you’ve each said, there is a sort of vestibule somewhere, a place where the passageway begins. How is it possible that there is a cavern here that has not been fully explored?”

Eleana glanced at Eli who was busy with his dessert. He looked up and shook his head slightly, not wanting her to pass him the speaking stick, as it were. She smiled.

She said, “Hort, the passageway is different for each of us. It is not like the caverns which were formed long ago by natural processes, mostly. Oh, we’ve expanded some tight places, we’ve improved ventilation here and there, but for the most part this cavern and all of its twists and turns are the legacy of our people. We’ve lived here since before the great war three thousand years ago. The passageway is a made thing, it is an artefact. It provides access through a great many dimensions to a vast number of places. Much of the passageway is akin to a labyrinth, not in the sense that you get lost, but in the sense that it goes far beyond anywhere you could reach by ordinary means. When you have spent a few hours inside, you will come to know where you are going. If it is a distant destination, you’ll be asked to come back here to invite friends to accompany you. If it is nearby, you’ll make frequent visits when you need to do so. The simplest way to say it is, the passageway will guide you.”

Hort shook his head in confusion. He said, “I don’t understand. You say it is a made thing. Has it been here all these thousands of years?”

Eli nodded. Eleana smiled at him, waved her hand gently, then attended to her own dessert.

Eli said, “Yes. In a sense, we made it. We brought it about, anyway. Some of the elements of the passageway relate to work done here, at this location, on experimental portals. Much of the guidance systems, the guides within the passageway that show you why you were summoned and which help you understand the choices in front of you, those were designed and built, and have been kept current by people like Eleana and myself.”

Hort said, “But this is fantastic, incredible. We hunt, we gather, we ride, we swim, we go about in wagons and on horses. Yet we have access to this miraculous passageway, this gift from ancient times. Why do we live as we do, then?”

Eli replied, “We like it better this way. Long ago we chose to live here and be free. We live very long lives now. There are no wars here any longer. No one is required to stay, no one is prevented from inventing new things nor hampered in their wanderings. Anyone who wants to live another way is free to do so. One of the reasons people pass through to other realms along the passageway is to go live elsewhere. The only question that remains is, do you wish to visit the vestibule.”

Hort was nodding his head as the question was being asked. He said, “Yes, I do! Thank you!”

Eleana looked up and said, “Thank you, too, Hort. It is a great honour to have one of our students chosen to begin this journey.”

Eli nodded and looking Hort in the eye said, “Yes, Hort. Thank you. It is a joy to have a very apt pupil such as yourself.” Then Eli reached over and held Eleana’s hand.

Hort reached his hands across to each of them. They formed a circle together, each clasping a hand of each of the others. They bowed their heads in their traditional way. Then they looked up, smiled at each other, and let go their hands.

Eli stood up and walked over to a wall hanging. The purple velvet had been brought from far away, and it stood between two windows. On it was an intricate geometric design embroidered in soft colours.

Pulling it to one side, Eli took up a velvet tassel that was just the right size and tied the wall hanging so that it hung across the opening it had concealed. He said, “Here is the vestibule. Inside you’ll be asked the questions and given the opportunity to answer them.”

Eleana had lit a small oil lantern. It was made of silver which framed small coloured glass plates. Most of these were a pale yellow, orange, or green, so the overall effect was a soft lighting. Gesturing Hort to rise, she handed him the lantern when he was on his feet.

Walking up to the wall hanging and casting the light from the lamp into the chamber beyond, Hort found a small white marble seat facing a large black frame. Within the frame was a dark mirror.

Eli walked up to the frame and placed his hand atop a small gem that seemed to glow with its own internal light. With this one touch, the screen lit up with a pattern of lights and colours. It then displayed the word, “Welcome.”

Hort’s eyes were big and round and his eyebrows were as high as they would go. He had never seen anything like this panel before.

Eli came out and brought Hort to the seat. He said, “The screen will show you questions and give you information. It will show you how to enter answers by touching the screen. It’s easy to learn and a great deal of fun. When you are ready, the screen will tell you what to do next. Good luck, and go with God.”

Hort sat and smiled. He looked at the screen, then at Eli, then turned to smile at Eleana.

She said, “Good luck, Hort. Go with God. We’ll be here when you return.”

She said, “Good luck, Hort. Go with God. We’ll be here when you return.”

Eli undid the tassel, letting the wall hanging conceal the vestibule. He and his wife went outside together.

* * * *

When I was young, on a course I did steer
To change all the world with no sense of fear.
To help solve problems that all people face,
I invested my skills for the fate of the race.

Working with friends and working alone,
Learning new facts that had to be known,
Trying new methods, daring to dream
The work was quite endless, or so it did seem.

Failures and victories came by the score;
Whatever I did to open the door
Others would challenge until it was late.
Will the bet pay off? What is our fate?

Who can say what the future may bring,
Will it cause us to weep or cause us to sing?
I don’t believe in predestined fate,
The future will be what we choose to create.

Each of us working and earning his property;
Keeping it private with total autonomy.
Having such love for each of these folk
Who yearn to live free and shed the yoke

Of oppression that binds with coercion and fear.
Holding a gun or arrow or spear,
Taking up arms for defense of our selves so
No one is master or owner or slave, no

Nobody owns you or me or another.
Nobody plays our father or mother.
We live together or we live far apart
Each choosing his path be it silly or smart.

We are the tribe of freedom you see.
In cuneiform writing they say “Ama-Gi”
The most ancient way of writing we’re free,
In wedges of clay before 2000 BC.

For four thousand years now people have known
That freedom is greatest when each is left alone.
No central planners, no central plan
Can make as much difference as one single man

Or woman or child, it matters not which:
The individual holds the key, turns the switch,
Unlocks the door to the future we seek
Next century, next year, or even next week.

Destiny is what we choose to create,
It never has been a matter of fate.
We are not robots to follow in line,
Shuffling along without reason or sign.

I am just me, this guy that you know,
You are just you with your knowledge in tow.
No numbers, no license, no permissions, no crime,
Autonomous factors with reason and rhyme.

True there are those who can’t or won’t see
That initiating force is wrong as can be.
They act in great haste, they do such a wrong,
We must protect the rest who belong,

Not to each other but each to herself and
Coercing none to gain wealth or land.
The things that we want come best in exchange
For things that we have or produce in a range

Of quality and value that each of us can
Make or devise by some personal plan.
Respecting you while you respect me
Guiding each other and others to see

That all of the future is unwritten as yet
And if we work smart we may still win that bet.
Laying the base on foundation of rock
So that battered by time it will take every shock.

From bottom to top, we build to the stars,
Knowing that what awaits us on Mars
Is another world of possibility, and more
Beyond Mars to a far galaxy’s shore.

We travel through space, we travel through time.
There is no mountain that we cannot climb.
We face the future both together and apart,
A journey of miles with but one step to start.

The best thing is taking each seriously.
Respecting the fact of the autonomy
Of each person in order to give them the space
To develop and grow just at their own pace.

We are the Tribe of the Free: Ama-Gi,
Whatever we do, we always live free.

Anthem for the Ama-gi, 2000

[End book one ]

Contact: jim@resilientways.net

Download PDF book here.


Jim Davidson is an author, entrepreneur, actor, and director. He is the cfo of KanehCN3.com and the vision director of HoustonSpaceSociety.net You can find him on Twitter.com/planetaryjim as well as Pocket.app and Flote.app also as planetaryjim. He appreciates any support you can provide as times are very difficult. See the Paypal link on this page. Or email your humble author to offer other choices. Visit IglooLuau.com for more information. Those seeking a multi-jurisdiction multi-hop VPN for communications privacy please visit https://secure.cryptohippie.com/houstonspacesociety.php For those seeking colloidal silver try ppmSilver.com/Jim Ask Jim about CryptoWealth.

War in Appalachistan

[Continued from Part One Part Two Part Three Part Four Part Five Part Six Part Seven, Part Eight] [Parts Nine, Ten, & Eleven part Twelve part Thirteen part Fourteen part Fifteen part Sixteen &Seventeen Title and Art Contest] [part Eighteen] [part Nineteen] [part Twenty] [part Twenty-one] [part Twenty-two] [part Twenty-three] [part Twenty-four] [part Twenty-five] [part Twenty-six] [part Twenty-seven] [part Twenty-eight] [part Twenty-nine][part Thirty][part Thirty-one][part Thirty-two]

“We never announced a scorched-earth policy; we never announced any policy at all, apart from finding and destroying the enemy, and we proceeded in the most obvious way. We used what was at hand, dropping the greatest volume of explosives in the history of warfare over all the terrain within the thirty-mile sector which fanned out from Khe Sanh. Employing saturation-bombing techniques, we delivered more than 110,000 tons of bombs to those hills during the eleven-week containment of Khe Sanh.

~ Michael Herr, 1977

The Softening Up

Daylight came early on Thursday 8 June. In another twelve days, the very longest day of the year would hail the arrival of full Summer. Sadly, a great many who saw that dawn would not live to see another.

First light saw pilots and technicians swarming toward aircraft up and down the coasts and up into the mountains of Appalachia. Jets and attack helicopters began taking off just before dawn.

All along Interstate 85, from Lynchburg Virginia to the crossings of Lake Hartwell on the border between South Carolina and Georgia were deployed the tanks, troops, armoured transports, and command vehicles of the slave owners including hundreds of thousands of volunteers from the communist-indoctrinated inner cities. These forces would head upslope three hours after dawn, once the anticipated “softening up” had battered the resistance into what the owners anticipated would approximate submission. They still had no understanding of the abolitionists opposing them.

Meanwhile, their artillery crews began pounding the nearby hills, villages, and towns with round after round of shells, mostly incendiary and anti-personnel, but in some places high explosives for fixed emplacements and to shatter buildings. Where defenders were in armoured vehicles, these were targeted with armour piercing rounds from the artillery units, although many such vehicles were hidden from view in caverns, hollows, entrenchments, inside buildings, and in other ways.

Some aircraft were aerial reconnaissance, now necessary because the orbital assets of the slave owners were being rapidly destroyed, ever since the late Tuesday victory in the space war by the freedom alliance. Isaac Vossius’s name was on the lips of all the freedom enthusiasts worldwide who had followed the events in orbit. His sacrifice was not in vain.

In the early light, behind the first ridge line, all along that route, men, women, and children began to inflate balloons of various sizes. In some places, there were pressurised tanks of helium, in other places hydrogen was used. As the first owner aircraft began to dot the eastern horizon, hundreds of thousands of balloons were released, each carrying aloft a cable, chain, or small piece of metal. As the jet aircraft sped overhead, they met the rising clouds of the smallest balloons coming out of the West, carried on the prevailing wind. Dozens of aircraft sucked these into their air intakes, flamed out, and came out of the sky – here and there crew members were able to eject successfully.

The coordinated offensive continued. Now attack helicopters were sent in to wipe out the rebels manning the lighter than air defence. Now these people released many tens of thousands of pairs of balloons, each set with a cable between them, many also linked to the ground by strong tethers. Various applications of nanotechnology and 3D printing had gone into some of these cables, others were simply the strong metal familiar to tow cable manufacturers.

Elsewhere, defence teams were pulling cables taut between trees, towers, buildings, and across ridges where the cable ends could be set in stone. Helicopters encountering these obstacles in their “nap of the earth” flights were quickly arrested. Some flew between balloons only to find fouling cables wrapping their rotor systems. Few of these high speed encounters were survivable.

Yet the assets of the slave owners were massive, and everything seemed to be committed in this battle. For every jet brought down, four more were behind it, for every attack helicopter reduced to burning debris, six were following.

Having done their work, the lighter than air defence crews left their empty gas cylinders and moved to other locations. Some took up positions to resist the assault waves with sniper rifles, anti-tank and anti-aircraft guns, rocket propelled grenade systems, and many other innovative weapons. Others fled back to safer locations in the hills and hollers, going to ground or taking up support roles in logistics, communications, or supply. Women and children retreated into the massive limestone caverns found all over the region, or were shepherded by loving families into deep underground bunkers.

In spite of the efforts of these brave defenders, hundreds of aircraft completed their bombing runs, attacked isolated positions, and supported the ground assault. It was as though the slave owners were throwing everything that they had at the interior of the country, to destroy those who would defend themselves from tyranny.

The Deep Fake

Deep underground at Wasp, Tennessee, there was a muted sound and much shaking of the ground with each nearby bomb detonation that exploded up above. Susan Nolan and her children gathered around Bob Nolan and Sam Smith who were about to set out.

Bill Watson looked around for Tyrone and, sticking his head through the partly opened doorway of Ty’s bedroom, found him staring at a computer screen. Bill said, “Ty, it’s about time for Bob and Sam to head out.”

Tyrone looked up. His sickened expression was disturbing to Bill, who turned his head slightly to indicate his question. Tyrone gestured him over and moved his mouse a bit, then pushed back his desk chair on its casters, as if to distance himself from the video now playing on the screen.

Bill watched the video as an actor turned toward the camera, displaying Ty’s face, and then did various terrible things to women and children. The sound was off, but from their expressions it was clear they were screaming in pain and terror. He shook his head, reached over to the screen and pushed its power button. The blank screen reflected Ty’s image, then Bill turned to face his friend.

Bill said, “You knew this would happen. As soon as we began discussing telling the world about their death camps and torture sites, you knew that they would use your images from the video to create a deep fake. We all knew it was coming, too. Everyone knows it’s how they operate, how they think, who they are. They think people who obey them believe all their lies and are unaware of their deep fake technologies. Perhaps they even think that people in the rebellion would be taken in, but we’re not. They can’t discredit you. And this video of theirs tells you how desperate they are.”

Tyrone sat with his arms crossed, looking down. He nodded, looked at his friend, gritted his teeth, and gave a slightly feral grimace, as if he were ready to tear into someone, anyone. Then he mastered himself and shook his head. He said, “I know it. I still feel hatred toward them for doing these things.”

Bill nodded, “I know. Hard to love your enemies when they’re so patently evil.”

Tyrone nodded as well. “Jesus never said it would be easy to follow his ways. He also cast out demons, and I think that’s part of what we’re facing.”

Bill nodded again and said, “C’mon, let’s go shake hands with Sam and Bob. They’re heading out.”

Hopping to his feet, Ty held the door open for Bill and followed him into the main room.

Ground Attack

All along the line of their enemy’s attack, people loyal to the rebellion began dropping highway overpasses and bridges. In many places, they were using already rigged explosives, in other places more impromptu methods were needed. Some hillsides above stretches of highway were brought down to landslide ove the road, leaving dirt, boulders, and whole trees littering the path of the oncoming troops and transports.

Some of these actions took out individual vehicles, but that was incidental to their purpose. In a few places, bottlenecks into the hills kept the enemy from advancing. In most, though, it simply delayed them while they found alternate routes. But in every case, it pinned the lead vehicles heading toward the broken roadway, forcing them to stop and make arrangements to back up the column of those following them.

As a result of having now stationary targets, the abolitionists were able to bring in attack aircraft of their own, such as the Super Cobra flown by Sam with Bob handling the weapons systems and accompanying drones. Where aircraft weren’t available, artillery shells rained down on the stopped columns. Panicked troops fled their vehicles and tried to find ways off the roads, which had become killing zones.

The View from on High

Up in orbit, Juan’s teams had spent the entire day Wednesday gathering the materials from the remnants of the destroyed enemy battle stations. Several dozen sky rods were salvaged. When the enemy attack on Appalachistan came, Thursday morning, these rods were directed at the columns of tanks heading up Interstate 26 from I-85.

Numerous craters were left where the sky rods fell. One company of tanks crossing the French Broad River were hit by six sky rods that not only obliterated many of the vehicles, but also dropped the bridge, stopping the column of tanks, trucks, and armoured vehicles behind. Again, the rebellion sent forward attack aircraft and used artillery to disrupt the trapped column.

Ann Branson sent a detailed report down to the team at Wasp, Tennessee. Analysis of the attacking formations made it clear that they were attempting to reach, with as much firepower as possible, the location where Bob Nolan’s lab was hidden. As the weary day wore on, it looked as though some enemy infantry, the irregular forces out of the coastal cities, including Red Rangers, were going to get through.

Difficult Answers

Karen Runningwolf looked into the web cam above the laptop. She said, “Mr. Difficult completed his interrogation today. Things are much worse than they seem. The owner’s whip, Antony Marcus, revealed that the owners are preparing to use nuclear weapons all over the Appalachians, in the Rockies, and wherever they think our people are found. According to Mr. Marcus, they were looking for an excuse to justify their actions. No doubt the destruction of Hampton Roads and the damage to Newport News is the pretext they were looking for. I’m sorry I don’t have better news to report. You’ll find attached to this message lists of targets recovered from the bunker where we found him. Some of these are marked highly probable from his reactions under interrogation. Every effort should be made to warn the affected populations, including our own people. May God have mercy on their souls.”

Another Cataclysm

Far away across the continent from events in the mountains of North Carolina and Tennessee there was a deep rumble throughout San Francisco. The long awaited and much feared “big one” had arrived. Seismomenters read 9.2 on the Richter scale, and the modified Mercalli intensity was rated at XII, the most extreme level.

Seismic waves could be seen on ground surfaces. Buildings collapsed. Bridges and overpasses slammed down. Underground pipelines throughout the city ruptured. Rail lines bent and sheered. Rapid transit and cargo trains derailed all over the region. Everywhere lines of sight and level were distorted. Cars, people, and many other things were thrown into the air.

Within moments of the initial shock, fires broke out. Rubble, bodies, and debris littered the city. Clouds of smoke and dust blew slowly along with an onshore breeze.

Colonies in Space

Far to the east around the curve of the Earth, the space colony lifted off its cradle. One hundred three rocket engines provided lift, and their nozzles were slightly canted to provide spin. Moments after liftoff the vehicle was hundreds of feet in the air, spinning gently for stability and accelerating.

From their acceleration stations Aamiina Hersi Kalinle and Harold Ley monitored the launch sequence with elation. Everything was going great. The enormous spacecraft headed east to take advantage of the Earth’s rotation. As its ground track crossed over the shore of the Indian Ocean, it was fifteen miles in the air.

Far below them in the waters of the Indian Ocean, a submarine had just surfaced. Crew members scurried out of hatches and onto the deck, rapidly assembling equipment and deploying an experimental surface-to-air rail gun. As they made ready to aim and fire, the new space colony continued on its ponderous way, gaining altitude and passing toward the east.

A klaxon sounded, and the captain’s voice came over the crew address system. “Stand down. Target has reached altitude beyond our range.”

All across the deck crewmen stared at the fiery apparition as it continued to rise beyond their reach. Many of them smiled, then looked around to see who had seen them doing so. Finally, they returned to their tasks, and began disassembling the rail gun.

Strategic Retreat

As Friday night fell, the enemy forces were still battling their way in eastern Tennessee. Bob and Sam had already refueled their Super Cobra twice during that day of fighting. Like a massive amoeba, the forces of the slave owners sent out one pseudopod after another. Everything that wasn’t headed toward Wasp seemed to be part of an effort at envelopment.

At 10 pm, Bob called for retreat. The people remaining in his lab were clearly in danger of being surrounded and there was no way to hold the position. Indeed, their military doctrine was against holding positions. Far too many weapons could project force into any given building, fortification, or cavern. No location was worth sacrificing men and women to defend it, simply because the locations were not the freedom alliance. The people were.

Bill made sure everyone was headed down the northern escape tunnel. Then he set the trip wires. Anyone forcing their way in would not survive the explosions prepared for them. Nevertheless, Bill wanted to leave the lab intact in the event they were able to return to it. So he left all the power systems operational. He, Bob, Susan, Mary Sue, and Clementine all had the codes for getting back in. If there were anything left to get back into, that is.

As they emerged from the tunnel, Bob and Sam’s helicopter, once again fully fuelled, came overhead. It headed up the valley toward US 25. Scouting the area, they found everything clear and reported back. Then they proceeded west along the highway to check further down the intended escape route.

As the refugees came up to the highway, they entered a long low wood building. From the outside it gave every appearance of being an abandoned stable. Opposite the road was the door they entered by. Inside were several pickup trucks and SUVs. Screened from the highway by trees were two sliding doors that Bill and Pete opened.

Susan, Clem, Mary Sue, and Tyrone drove the various vehicles out onto a gravel parking lot. Pete and Bill closed the doors behind them. Bill climbed in on the passenger side of the pickup driven by Mary Sue. Pete did likewise with the SUV driven by Clementine. Susan had her three children with her. Soon everyone was seated and heading West.

Three jet aircraft came out of the eastern sky, flying low and fast. Their sonic booms swept over the fugitives. Their cannons and missiles targetted Bob and Sam’s helicopter. Bob’s drones expended all their ammunition returning fire at the jets, downing two of them, and fighting off the missiles, interposing themselves to absorb much of the auto-cannon rounds.

Screaming in a high gee turn, the last of the enemy jets came back around. Its remaining air-to-air missiles and cannon fire from its guns overwhelmed Bob’s remaining defence systems. Sam had brought the helo up to just above auto-gyro altitude. When the main rotor system took a hit, began leaking hydraulic fluid, and started flaming up, the last jet broke off and headed for its home base. Shrapnel in his left shoulder, Sam guided the copter as best he could through its emergency landing.

As the copter crashed in a farmer’s field, Susan turned the convoy of ground vehicles down a side road. Coming through the open gate into the field, she was fairly confident that open gate meant no livestock. Flying over bumps and folds in the ground, she raced with her family toward her husband, the other vehicles following only slightly less recklessly.

Cresting the last ridge separating her from the crash site, she saw Bob supporting Sam as the two moved quickly away from the flaming wreckage. Rounds began too cook off behind them, sending tracers, shrapnel, and bullets in all directions. Somehow everything seemed to go elsewhere, but seeing the chaos ahead, Susan turned on the crest of the hill, slowed, and turned to parallel the ridgeline, getting her children back below the hillcrest away from the wreck.

As if to confirm her fears, a fireball lit the sky. The fuel had exploded. The uncontained explosion went in all directions, preceded by a ground shock travelling at the speed of sound in dirt, knocking the feet out from under Bob and Sam, followed moments later by the air shock, and then a rain of debris. Fortunately, only minor wounds were inflicted as they hugged the ground beneath them.

Having made certain of the explosion, Susan turned again and headed over to her husband. Parking nearby she and the children rushed up to Bob and Sam, who were still clinging to the dirt. Lifting his helmeted head and shaking it slightly, Bob looked up, rolled onto his side, and exposed his shattered visor. His face, battered, bruised, and cut, but mostly intact displayed a rueful grin.

As Susan, Little Bob, Kathy, and Amy rushed up, Bob said, “Hello wonderful people. It’s good to be home.”

[End part thirty-three, book one concludes in part thirty-four]

Download pdf here.

contact: jim@resilientways.net


Jim Davidson is an author, entrepreneur, actor, and director. He is the cfo of KanehCN3.com and the vision director of HoustonSpaceSociety.net You can find him on Twitter.com/planetaryjim as well as Pocket.app and Flote.app also as planetaryjim. He appreciates any support you can provide as times are very difficult. See the Paypal link on this page. Or email your humble author to offer other choices. Visit IglooLuau.com for more information. Those seeking a multi-jurisdiction multi-hop VPN for communications privacy please visit https://secure.cryptohippie.com/houstonspacesociety.php For those seeking colloidal silver try ppmSilver.com/Jim Ask Jim about CryptoWealth.

Your Power

“Do not give what is holy to the dogs; nor cast your pearls before swine, lest they trample them under their feet, and turn and tear you in pieces.”

~ Jesus, quoted in Matthew 7:6

For generations you and your forebears have been obeying. You’ve delegated power to liars, thieves, murderers, rapists, and cannibals. My first request: Stop doing that! Stop it right now, stop delegating your power to others. Keep your power.

You’ve been given excuses. You’ve been told that things are very complex, that you need experts to guide you, that you cannot trust your neighbours with the power they have so they have to relinquish their power and you must relinquish your power, but somehow it’ll be okay. Because, the excuses continue, you can trust the people to whom you give power. How’s that again?

Well, sure, they are people, just like you, just like your neighbours. So, fallible, prone to error, capable of corruption, inclined to their own interests before yours, but, well, and then there’s a line of patter. For example, “…but, well, you get to elect them!” Ah. Yes, elections wherein maybe your votes are counted, maybe someone who agrees with your views is available to represent you, maybe there is some power you have for the elected official to be required to keep their promises? Well, no, none of that actually, but, still, trust the plan, says Q. Trust the system, says the system. Trust the police, say the police.

You should stop doing that part, where you trust liars, thieves, rapists, murderers, and cannibals, and expect it is all going to work out.

In Micah chapter 4 God says that each of you will sit under your own vine and under your own fig tree, and none shall make you afraid, for God has so decreed. Why would you wish to give up your sovereignty, your independence, your guns, your freedom, your privacy, your property, your freedom from abuses and usurpations, torture, false witness, lack of due process, warrantless searches, uncompensated seizures, and all the rest?

Which is another of those lines of patter, right? “The constitution protects you!” Well, no, it has no teeth. There’s no clause that punishes politicians and bureau-rats for violating your rights. You should want them to be punished, but you have no standing, not being a party to the constitution. As Lysander Spooner wrote, the constitution has either authorised all the tyranny you have been suffering, or it has been powerless to prevent any of that tyranny. Either way, it is not fit to serve a free people.

STOP DELEGATING YOUR POWER. It is your power. God gave it to you. You earned it, built it, gathered it, created it yourself in some ways. You were born free, so why are you being told to wear a masque, close your business, keep six feet from other people, never hug anyone ever again, never take the sacraments at church, always meet via Zoom except when they are upgrading over the weekend and your meeting for worship is out of luck, and why, why, why are you obeying? Stop obeying, please.


Let’s talk about a voluntaryist named Jesus. He consorted with sinners, spent time around prostitutes, talked a crowd out of stoning to death an accused adultress, whipped the money changers in the temple, told his followers to sell their cloaks and buy arms, told a legalistic sort that one should render unto Caesar only that which belongs to Caesar, and to God that which belongs to God, and said many other fine things that you can read about in a number of books. My suggestion is that you notice he is the Prince of Peace, but not the king of compliance, the Way, the Truth, and the Light, not submissive to authority, that he was not crowned by the Romans, but crucified by them.

Thus, it is my thought that the sovereignty you have over yourself is like the pearls you should not cast before swine, lest they trod the sovereignty under foot and then turn on you and rend you. Pig herders will assure you that a four hundred pound boar can be very vicious, see the film “Hannibal” or read John Ross’s Unintended Consequences if you need confirmation. Politicians are swine. Stop giving them your power. Bureau-rats are dogs, stop giving them your power, your sacred honour. You owe them no duty.

Rebellion Now

There are plenty of reasons to think that lockdown isn’t acceptable. There are plenty of people willing to end it. And, there are long hot summers in our history. Some times people do riot, and some times are times of revolution. Many revolutions begin with acts of repression like the Boston Massacre and acts of disobedience like the Boston Tea Party. That event, December 1773, led to a great deal of fear among the magistrates and politicians in Massachusetts who mostly lay low and did not serve in their offices until October 1774, when the British fleet arrived with occupation troops. Months later, 19 April 1775 to be precise, there was open warfare in Massachusetts, which spread throughout the colony.

The Declaration of Independence says that you have rights to life, liberty, pursuit of happiness, and that to secure these rights governments are formed. So, you have a government, how secure do your rights feel? Not very.

It also says that when any government becomes abusive of these rights, it is the power of the people to overthrow such government and establish new means for their peace and happiness. People don’t change things to which they are accustomed for light and transient reasons, but only when a long train of abuses and usurpations shows evidence of reducing them under the boot of absolute tyranny. I submit to a candid world that such is the patient suffering of the American people, and nothing can be more clear than that design is being carried out. You are being sold into slavery.

How should you pursue any acts of rebellion? On your own. Tell no one what you do for freedom. Simply do it. And, of course, build a team to help you if there are problems. Some days things will be done to you. “Some days you eat the bear, some days the bear eats you,” is a good description of your world. So, do form a rapid response team with people you know, do work to help one another, do send lawyers, guns, and money as appropriate to get your people out of trouble.

But, do not make the same mistakes. Don’t delegate power to a committee. Don’t expect your new committee to be trustworthy. For if they should win, they simply become the new bosses. And, worse, if they think they are losing, their family is suffering too much, they are not going to be part of the winning coalition, they may decide to surrender. Why would you surrender to rapists, liars, thieves, cannibals, and mass murderers? You should not, and if you would not, don’t give anyone else the power to surrender on your behalf.

My goal here is very simple. I want you to be free. I want you to be free because your freedom is better than your slavery, for me, in terms of me keeping my freedom, having interesting conversations with good people, and engaging in trade and commerce. Also, your freedom is better for you and therefore pleasing to God, who is connected to your soul and feels everything you feel. God would rather feel happiness than terror and fear, so, you being free is better.

Yes, Jesus is the Prince of Peace, and there can be no peace without justice. God has said repeatedly that we should use fair weights and measures, treat each other justly, not bear false witness, not lie someone into trouble with the law, not covet one another’s stuff. There can be no justice, though without freedom. Right? You cannot be in the presence of justice if you are enslaved, tortured, beaten, raped, murdered. You need to be free to speak up, to keep and bear arms, to practice your religion or lack thereof, do as you think best with your property, not be spied upon constantly, and so forth.

Peace requires justice. Justice requires freedom. Freedom requires weapons. You have to defend it. It is, after all, a pearl of great price. It is your sacred individual sovereignty. So, sell your cloak and buy arms.

Also, don’t ask me to lead you into battle. Don’t become a follower. The rebellion and the change to the world of Malachi chapter 4, where you crush your enemies as ashes beneath your boots, that world requires that you be free and independent. That vine and fig tree each one of you sits under, where no one makes you afraid, that requires that you be sovereign. In many ways that is a metaphor of your sovereignty.

If you need to form a team and you need a team leader, if you need rules of engagement, if you need to work together, do so. Of course. But don’t delegate power over your existence to liars, thieves, rapists, murderers, and cannibals.

That’s what’s been happening, and for over a century, and unless you stop it, it will continue.

My grandparents obeyed Woodrow Wilson instead of having him tried for treason and executed. My parents obeyed FDR instead of having him tried for treason and executed. My generation obeyed Bill Clinton instead of having him tried for treason and executed. So, you see, there has been a long train of abuses and usurpations, and obedience has not created the freedom you crave.

If you mean to be free, you are going to have to free yourself. If you mean to be free, please keep your freedom. Keep your power. Don’t delegate your power. Choose whether to go along with others, work together for common goals, but don’t imagine that they should become your new masters. Seriously. You have to stop doing that stuff. It’s really annoying.

Your freedom involves your power, and your power is your sovereignty. Keep your sovereignty, your power, and your freedom. Or the cycle of violence and oppression and rebellion and new bosses and violence and oppression will never end.

My grandparents did not bequeath freedom to their children and my parents did not bequeath it to me. What are you going to leave for your children? Why not leave them in control of their own destinies? It would be a refreshing change.

PDF Download.

Contact: jim@resilientways.net


Jim Davidson is an author, entrepreneur, actor, and director. He is the cfo of KanehCN3.com and the vision director of HoustonSpaceSociety.net You can find him on Twitter.com/planetaryjim as well as Pocket.app and Flote.app also as planetaryjim. He appreciates any support you can provide as times are very difficult. See the Paypal link on this page. Or email your humble author to offer other choices. Visit IglooLuau.com for more information. Those seeking a multi-jurisdiction multi-hop VPN for communications privacy please visit https://secure.cryptohippie.com/houstonspacesociety.php For those seeking colloidal silver try ppmSilver.com/Jim Ask Jim about CryptoWealth.

Kings of the High Frontier

[Continued from Part One Part Two Part Three Part Four Part Five Part Six Part Seven, Part Eight] [Parts Nine, Ten, & Eleven part Twelve part Thirteen part Fourteen part Fifteen part Sixteen &Seventeen Title and Art Contest] [part Eighteen] [part Nineteen] [part Twenty] [part Twenty-one] [part Twenty-two] [part Twenty-three] [part Twenty-four] [part Twenty-five] [part Twenty-six] [part Twenty-seven] [part Twenty-eight] [part Twenty-nine][part Thirty][part Thirty-one]

“A good plan violently executed now is better than a perfect plan executed at some indefinite time in the future.”
― George S. Patton Jr.

Carlos Perez nodded at the image of his son on the laptop screen on his desk, glancing briefly into the web cam mounted there. He said, “Yes, that seems best. Leave a minimal team in the captured space station, take all the firepower we have, and blast that new battle station. When can you go?”

Juan looked at his father’s image and said, “Right away. There’s no advantage to delay, things will only get worse the longer we wait.”

Seeing nods from all the others present at his conference table, and from the images of the other team members now in orbit, Carlos nodded once, firmly, and said, “Go with God.” He sat back and looked at the main status screen, thinking through the orbital trajectories. A significant concentration of their firepower should be nearing Battle Station 7 in about two hours. Carlos ordered the calculations and had them sent up to the orbiting teams. The same calculations could be made on orbit, of course, but having the ground team handle things reduced the work load on those in orbit.

Hu Ponse spoke up from his position near the ceiling of the Destiny lab module. He asked, “Why don’t we keep skeleton crews aboard the spacecraft we send against that new battle station, and leave as many here in our captures space station? Wouldn’t that be safer than sending everyone into harm’s way?”

Juan smiled at his team mate. He replied, “You know better, Hu. Concentrating our forces only makes sense if we use them in attack. Putting everyone in one pressure vessel, the one with the least firepower, makes no sense. It is the same centralisation mythos that ruined the economy a few years ago. As it is, the people we leave here need to isolate each module, and wear their pressure suits with helmets at hand, as unpleasant as that will be. No telling what may happen, except that no battle plan survives contact with the enemy.”

Deke Mason looked over to Juan’s end of the module and asked, “What is the plan?”

Juan replied, “Envelopment. I want to go at that battle station from every direction at once. We can get everyone there at the same time, about two hours ten minutes from now. Think of it as the enemy’s gate in Ender’s Game. That battle station is ‘down’ and our goal is to send everything we’ve got down at it. If it does to the Guban station what it did to Sky Angel Seven, we’re going to have trouble holding on up here.”

Sky Angel One

Tiffany Tomasovna was worried. Despite their envelopment of Battle Station Seven, it was still very dangerous. Its sky rods and its rail guns were part of the danger, its MIRV warheads were another, and despite a number of solid hits, its reactor was very much on line. Tif could see its automated systems repairing the damage. Two additional sources of concern. The plane change manouvre it had executed was bringing it toward the captured international space station, what they were calling Rebel Orbital Port Two (ROP2). Worse, it was also going to be over Somaliland in a few hours and be able to target its warheads and sky rods at ROP1 now in finally launch prep in the Guban.

The rebellion could lose its temporary logistics hub, lose its main base of operations in orbit before launch, and they’d launched everything they had ready. Additional Sky Angel teams were gearing up for launches in about a week, sooner if anyone could manage, but a great deal of good fortune would be needed to reduce that timeline for any of the potential replacements.

This idea about needing replacements had only just crossed Tif’s mind when she saw Sky Angel Fourteen take a direct hit on their propellant tank. There was an explosion and an asymmetrical impulse, causing the vehicle to tumble.

Juan Perez took charge and said, “Ramos, move Angel 12 to cover that gap, we don’t want to leave an opening. Pete do you read? Status report on Angel 14 please.”

Everyone was busier than usual for tens of seconds while they adjusted their positions. Battle Station Seven responded after a second to the gap with a flurry of rail gun missiles and several more sky rods at Angel 12 to attempt to prevent the gap from being covered.

After fifteen seconds of this activity, Frank Taylor’s voice was heard from Angel 14. He said, “Pete Ling is badly injured from an electrical fire at his control station. I’ve re-routed controls and should have our tumble recovery completed in a couple of minutes. We’ll be low propellant though. Main oxygen tank is gone, using auxiliaries only.”

Tif opened a separate encrypted channel to Juan. She said, “There’s a timing delay. That beast has a remote operator. If we can isolate its signal or destroy its antennae, we can put it on internal control. Then we just have to outsmart a machine.”

Juan replied, “Thanks Tif, that’s good thinking. There are a number of antenna structures we can target.”

Switching to the general channel, Juan called out, “All Angels, target anything that looks like a radio system on that beast. We’re not going to break through the reactor any time soon, but we can take down its remote operator’s input. That should reduce its tactical capabilities. Angel 8, rendezvous with Angel 14 and deploy tethers. Gil, see if you and Frank can arrange a tow back to ROP2.”

Twenty minutes later, a new problem became urgent. Although they were fairly sure the remote operator was largely or at least intermittently cut off, all of their vehicles were running low on ammo. Isaac Vossius in the captured battle station, now designated Rebel Battle One or RB1, reported that he had zero sky rods left. Only one of the rods he’d thrown had damaged the last enemy battle station early in the conflict, and that damage seemed to be fully repaired now.

Juan Perez keyed off the external communications system for his team’s spacecraft. Then he looked across his crew compartment at Hu Ponse and Nancy Farnham who were still aboard. For tactical reasons, to conserve manouevering fuel, they had left George Memtok aboard Rebel Orbital Port Two, the former international space station. Hu seemed to have anticipated the moment because he returned Juan’s gaze and nodded.

Nancy was a little busy just then targetting their rail gun to send the last of their ammo at the enemy. That accomplished, she looked up at Hu’s tap on her elbow. Seeing his gesture, she looked over at Juan.

“We can hit that reactor with a collision,” Juan said. Nancy looked confused for a moment, not sure what would be colliding with the enemy’s reactor. Then her eyes widened.

A thousand thoughts passed through Nancy’s mind in a few seconds. Misgivings, unfinished business, and the situation screens in front of her all flashed by in her mind’s eye. The deciding factors were the vulnerable space station on the ground and the recently captured space station in orbit. They didn’t have much time left to save either target. They really wanted to save both. All these ideas brought home the conclusion that Juan had reached. Glancing briefly at Hu, she realised that he had also steeled his resolve. Looking Juan in the eye, she nodded.

Juan’s hands moved on the controls to shift their orbit, and he keyed on their communications with the fleet. “Sky Angel Twenty, to all angel teams. I’ve taken a collision course with the enemy battle station …”

Isaac Vossius spoke up, “I’m sorry sir, but I cannot let you do that. Tell my family goodbye.”

From the position of his vehicle, it was clear that he had reached the same conclusion even earlier than Juan had. Moments later Isaac’s massive captured battle station collided with the nuclear reactor of the enemy vehicle. The collision broke open the containment vessel, destroyed all the coolant systems simultaneously, and the explosions from his propellant tanks took Isaac’s life and further damaged the enemy station.

There was a moment of stunned amazement. A general intake of breath could be heard followed by muttered prayers and expressions of shock.

Unfortunately, in its death throes, the enemy station now launched all its remaining sky rods and all six of its MIRV warheads. None of the rebel fleet were targetted. The sky rods headed toward the orbiting space station and the reentry vehicles headed for ground targets.

Tif said, “What can we do? Everyone is out of ammo!”

Gil Dartmouth spoke up, “Not quite everyone. Frank and I are targetting the sky rods now. We should be able to disable them before they damage anything.”

Juan’s eyebrows went up. In the heat of battle, he’d forgotten about Angels 14 and 8 which had shaped orbit for the captured space station earlier in the conflict. He sat back full against his padded seat and sighed.

At that moment, Nancy saw an indicator light up on her control panel. She said, “New signal detected.”

Seeing that she had her controls well in hand, Juan said, “Let’s hear it.”

There was a brief squawk of radio noise. Then a new voice spoke up, “Rebel fleet, this is Master Control. My name is Lars Hopkins. When you removed the antenna systems, Master Station Seven went to internal command and control. Unfortunately, its software design was determined by psychopaths who made sure it would wreak havoc if it was about to be disabled. I am now triggering the self-destruct systems for those nuclear warheads. Please confirm. My action is going to be seen as betrayal by the owners, of course. No doubt it is my moment to take independent action. As you can imagine, I don’t want the destruction of six cities on my conscience.”

All across the rebel fleet, optical systems were already focused on the re-entering warheads, and, sure enough, one by one they began to show small explosions. Safety devices detonated their internal propellant tanks and exploded their guidance systems. These asymmetric impulses caused each warhead to tumble.

Nuclear warheads designed for reentry are fairly robust, but they do depend on attitude control during reentry. Otherwise, the enormous heat of atmospheric reentry can completely consume the components necessary to cause a nuclear explosion. Of course, the nuclear material itself is very dense, and some components would likely reach the surface of the Earth, but with neither guidance nor propulsion, and with their reentry shielding rendered useless from tumbling, there was no longer a danger of nuclear detonation, with one exception.

As each warhead was nullified by the self-destruct system, Lars entered a new set of codes at his work station, giving him the ability to signal the self-destruct on the next warhead. He was acting rapidly, but his controls were designed to limit his freedom for independent action. He was having to over-ride multiple systems meant to lock him out in case he went rogue. These intricacies worked the first time, the second time, the third time, the fourth time.

All across the sky, and down at Angels Control, sighs of relief were widespread as each of the first four warheads was destroyed. About thirty seconds went by and then the fifth warhead detonated.

Typing furiously at his work station, Lars experienced a power failure. His entire work station went dark. A moment later his entire vehicle went dark. The internal protocols had given up on keeping him in line, and had nullified his ability to act.

Juan typed a few commands and sent an in-the-clear radio message. He said, “Lars, come in Lars. Master Control, five out of six is good, but can you go one better?”

There was no reply. Far below, the last remaining reentry vehicle dwindled with distance.

Juan switched back to the rebel fleet channel and said, “Angel 16, see if you can rendezvous with that Master Control spacecraft. I think our new friend is in trouble. And, anyway, there’s zero chance he’ll want to return home after what he’s done. Angel Control, there’s going to be a nuclear detonation somewhere on the eastern seaboard.”

Hampton Roads, Virginia, was a body of water famous for the battle of the ironclads in 1862. At that site, the USS Monitor and the CSS Virginia fought for two days in early March in an ill-fated to lift the blockade of Confederate ports. The surface detonation there of a 475 kilotonne nuclear warhead wiped out ships, warehouses, bridges, buildings, ended tens of thousands of lives, and wiped out electrical and electronic systems for miles around.

The war for freedom had just gone nuclear. No one in the rebellion had any idea why Hampton Roads had been targetted.

[End part thirty-two, continues in part thirty-three]

Contact: jim@resilientways.net

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Jim Davidson is an author, entrepreneur, actor, and director. He is the cfo of KanehCN3.com and the vision director of HoustonSpaceSociety.net You can find him on Twitter.com/planetaryjim as well as Pocket.app and Flote.app also as planetaryjim. He appreciates any support you can provide as times are very difficult. See the Paypal link on this page. Or email your humble author to offer other choices. Visit IglooLuau.com for more information. Those seeking a multi-jurisdiction multi-hop VPN for communications privacy please visit https://secure.cryptohippie.com/houstonspacesociety.php For those seeking colloidal silver try ppmSilver.com/Jim Ask Jim about CryptoWealth.