by Don Cook
“Okay! You asked for it!” Davis shouted through his bullhorn. “Biker-brothers and sisters, let’s clear outta here! Guards-troops and police, do your duty! You rioters all asked for war, you’ve got it!”
The fighting between Christians and feminists continued more ferociously and violently through the night, with the National Guard and local police battling both the Christian men (who gladly forgot they were supposed to be gentlemen in Jesus) and Men’s Lives Matter males on one side, and weapons-wielding women who were more proudly and gleefully anti-male than the Nazis were anti-Semitic on the other!
NBS NEWS MOBILE BROADCAST CENTER
MINNEAPOLIS, MINNESOTA, USA
15 JULY 12:09 AM CENTRAL TIME
“Look at this, you sonofabitch!” said Chad Morrow to NBS convention coverage producer Frank Rubin, as the prerecorded images of the violence between police, National Guard troops and various protesters on the streets of Minneapolis trickled onto the broadcast center’s monitors.
For a moment, Rubin ignored Morrow, who was in charge of covering outdoor activities during the convention, despite the onrush of images of Minneapolis street violence. Rubin did not have the authority to air the street violence without the approval of the NBS brass in New York. As well, Rubin had enough to deal with covering the events in the Exhibit Hall Theater.
“Frank?!” Morrow shouted at Rubin, while pointing to the video monitors. “Are you blinder than a bat?! LOOK!”
Rubin saw the violence that reminded him of a video in high school he had seen on the Chicago riots in 1968, and felt like he was now in a journalistic ethics quandary. He had no time for a journalism school seminar. He had to make a judgement call about whether to cover the convention or cut away to the violence on the streets. Was the street violence news or not? And which was more newsworthy, the selection of a presidential candidate or the violence on the streets? Rubin, going with his gut and driven by the Chicago TV violence he saw as part of his history class, made his decision quickly.
“If it bleeds, it leads!” Rubin said, citing an old newsroom credo. “We’re here to cover the news, and this street brawling is news that’s bleeding like a Texas oil gusher! Let’s go with the streets! I’ll give Jeff Hunt only the barebones facts, and the New York network brass be damned!”
“Frank,” Chad said, “don’t ask me how or why, but we’ve lost control of the signal. It’s going out, whether we like it or not!”
“What?!” Rubin shouted, angrily baffled.
“I’ve just talked with some of the other networks’ convention mobile staff. All the other networks have had their signals overridden, too! It’s the same story in Canada, Britain, Europe, Australia — everywhere! Every media outlet has been taken over by god-knows-what! It’s going out all over the planet. The whole world is watching!”
No one at NBS or any other Earthy media outlet could make sense of the situation.
EXHIBIT HALL THEATER, MINNEAPOLIS CONVENTION CENTER
MINNEAPOLIS, MINNESOTA, USA
1:48 AM CENTRAL TIME
“The chair recognizes Iowa!” shouted Crohn from the podium.
“Most of the delegates at this convention are not aware,” spoke a modest older male delegate from Iowa, after his assistant relayed news of the rioting, “that at this very moment, thousands of people from all walks of life are being beaten mercilessly by police, National Guard troops, and are also assailing each other. Many of these persons are severely injured or even dead. For this reason, the loyal delegates from Iowa request a suspension of the rules, and for the relocation of this convention to another city —!”
“IOWA IS NOT RECOGNIZED FOR THAT PURPOSE!” shouted Crohn at the Iowa delegate at the top of her lungs as she banged down the gavel hard and repeatedly, which sent the convention into an insane panic.
STREET AREA NEAR THE MINNEAPOLIS CONVENTION CENTER
MINNEAPOLIS, MINNESOTA, USA
4:59 AM CENTRAL TIME
As the Minneapocalypse still raged on through the wee hours of the morning, a major news network Chinese-American female reporter, herself an unrepentantly hostile feminist (as was generally the case with women in the North American media) was choked up with grief and became remorsefully repentant as she was on-camera a block away from the war zone.
The twentysomething newswoman reported into the camera through the dual Niagara Falls of her tears, “I think what we are witnessing now, Bill is a day of reckoning for all womankind. We thought we could overwhelm men with picketing, harassment, media-badgering, guilt-trip after guilt-trip after guilt-trip, and an eternally-fanned warlike attitude towards men, not letting up for even one split-second, until women conquered the planet. Little did we realize…”
The reporter sobbed on-camera, before she barely regained her composure.
“Little did we realize…” she continued to report in between sobs, “…there would be a day… when mankind would take mass violent revenge upon all womankind for all the murdered babies, all the jobs men were robbed of by women, all the hate we had towards the male gender! All the hate we are! And all the other bad-ass! Woman-kind is reaping this day what we’ve been sowing for decades!”
The reporter then screamed in contrite terror, “GOD HAVE MERCY UPON ME! I AM SORRY TO GOD AND EVERY MAN ON EARTH FOR ALL MY SINS, AND ALL THE SINS AND UNPROSECUTED CRIMES OF WOMAN, ESPECIALLY MINE!”
The reporter doubled over onto the ground and cried herself into insanity. A screaming two-edged machete-armed Caucasian radical feminist university student bused in from London, Ontario, Canada saw the reporter’s on-air repentance as abject gender-treason, ran with hurricane force to the still-weepy newswoman and quickly chopped her to death like a mega-mad axe murderer.
The same machete-wielding mad Canadian feminist charged madly at a black Minnesota National Guardsmen before he professionally cut her down with his machine-gun 10 seconds later in the interest of public safety — even if it meant the Guardsman had to kill a woman to protect the lives of the general public!
The Guardsman, in sad, terrified shock, doubled over, threw up onto the sidewalk, and wept heavily, while hundreds of people in the crowd from all across the entire political spectrum, many operating their cell-phones in camera mode and taking both still photos and live-streaming video footage, loudly chanted with brutal repetition the 1968 Chicago protest slogan, “THE WHOLE WORLD IS WATCHING! THE WHOLE WORLD IS WATCHING! THE WHOLE WORLD IS WATCHING!”
TELEPORT-CAPSULE INSIDE HORSE BARN, THREE-CROSS RANCH
TEXAS, USA
6:15 AM CENTRAL TIME
“The whole world is watching!” Dr. Goldshtein said to Makarrth, as they, Jim, and Makarrth’s aide watched the murderous Minneapolitan melee on the monitors. “Admiral, where’s your starfleet?!”
“I don’t know!” Makarrth said, just as exasperated as the others. “I’ll have to radio Blue 1 and order Mike to go in anyway.”
“But Trudierre’s fleet will zap Mike into nothing!” said Jim in angst.
Glenn, Val, Donny, April and Abby walked into the capsule.
“How goes the battle?” Val said.
“I hope Dad’s okay,” Donny said.
“Strange as it sounds, dear children,” Dr. Goldshtein said, “your father is probably safer in space than we are on Earth.”
“I agree” Abby said. “I think your dad’s in a lot safer spot that your mom’s in.” Abby then said, “Jim, Admiral, I don’t know about you, but when you had all the TV channels tuned in to both the convention and the rioting in Minneapolis, I got real shook up good!”
“How so, Abby?” Makarrth asked.
“When I saw all that violence going down on the TV, Admiral,” Abby said, with a tearful sniffle, “it made me think of all the rioting I was part of in Chicago back in 1968! Only this time, it’s much worse!”
“You were at the Democratic Convention back then, Abby?” Val asked, with a girl-power-proud curiosity that shone through her eyes.
“Yes, baby” Abby said sad
ly, knowing Val got the wrong impression from her words. “And I wish to God I wasn’t!”
“What do you mean?” Val asked, surprised. “You make it sound like you were a soldier over in Vietnam torching up some of its villages.”
“I might as well have been, baby!” Abby said, her voice quivering between sad, tear-filled sniffles. “Back then, I was just as bad as those soldiers who torched up those innocent folks’ straw huts over in Nam. And don’t you dare think, Ms. Bonhoeffer, or any of you youngins — don’t yawls dare think I did any good back then! In those days, I was a Black Panther who was just a mean, dirty killer!”
Abby broke down and cried, as April held her like a kindly sister, reassuring her that she’s in a safe place these days.
“Back then, Val,” April said, “Abby was ‘Grandma Hades,’ one of the more radical Black Panthers on the FBI’s Most Wanted List. She was wanted for tons of terrorist acts, armed robbery and multiple first-degree murder. After the FBI arrested her, Abby came to faith in Jesus, turned State’s evidence against her superiors, and Jim and I took her under our wing.”
“Did Daddy help you out, Abby?” Val asked.
“That was long before your Dad joined the Bureau, Val,” Jim said, as Abby calmed down and gradually stopped weeping. “He would’ve been no more than your age, tops.”
“Wow,” Glenn said. “That’s pretty far back.”
“To me, Glenn,” Jim said, “it’s just like yesterday. All too much like yesterday.”
A brief silence befell the teleport-capsule before a worried Donny bowed his head in prayer and said meekly, “Dear God, please look out for my dad out there in space and Khraavie here on Earth… and everyone else around the world. In Jesus’ name…”
Everyone in the teleport-capsule said in soft, reverent unison, “Amen.”
Makarrth radioed to Mike in Blue 1, “Earth-base to Blue 1. Do you read?”
“Blue 1” Mike radioed. “I read you.”
“I know I told you to wait for our fleet, but can you go in solo?”
“From what I’ve seen on the monitors, it looks like I’ll have to.”
“Then proceed with plan and be careful, my friend. The Lord be with you.”
“And you” Mike radioed with vocal uncertainty. “Blue 1, over-and-out.”
OUTER SPACE, 1 MILLION MILES BEYOND EARTH’S ORBIT
SAME MOMENT
Blue 1, with its near-lightspeed thruster panels glowing, dashed towards the Skandario and the 14-starship strong goose-like V-formation with a vengeful swiftness!
As it approached the enemy flagship, Blue 1 discharged special chaff-bots to confuse the fleet’s scanners and any weaponry that Trudierre’s task-fleet could hurl Mike’s way.
BRIDGE OF HRMKS SKANDARIO
17 MILLION MILES BEYOND EARTH’S ORBIT
“WHAT IN PERDITIA IS THAT?!” Trudierre said cursedly, as he looked at the bridge’s tactical screen before him and saw an ill-defined contact that spread over an area of 1600 longspans (roughly 1841 miles) as the Kannatikan task-fleet inched its way towards Earth.
“Classification and designation unknown, lord!” the Skandario’s helms-being responded. “Sensors indicate the vessel is using chaff-bot countermeasures to jam and thwart our sensory array.”
“Can you pierce through the chaffs?!”
“Attempting to do so, lord,” the helms-being said.
The helms-being adeptly attempted to cut through the chaff-bots’ interference, and almost managed to do so until the contact fired decoy-bots that aided the chaff-bots in further confusing the Skandario’s sensors, expanding the zone of Blue 1’s countermeasures confusion to 4,500 longspans (roughly 5,178.5 miles.)
The helms-being said with alarm, “I can’t seem to cut through the contact’s countermeasures —!”
“YOU’VE GOT A BEARING?!” Trudierre shouted.
The helms-being nodded yes.
“THEN FIRE SOME DAMNED BLIND-SHOTS IN THAT DIRECTION IF YOU HAVE TO!”
“But Your Excellency —”
“FIRE, YESH-DAMNIT!”
“Yes, lord!” The helms-being said with a devil rocker/Nazi-style salute, and then fired blindly at “the contact.”
COCKPIT OF FIGHTER-SPACECRAFT “BLUE 1”
Blue 1’s attack klaxon sounded as the Skandario’s photon-shells zoomed towards Blue 1. As the photon-shells came at his ship, Mike moved his joystick and successfully maneuvered his fighter to evade them.
“Just as I expected!” Mike said as he dodged the Skandario’s photon-shells. “Where’s the space cavalry when you need them?”
Two flashes of blue light, each the size of Jupiter, appeared behind the Kannatikan task-fleet and behind Blue 1, materializing into both sections of the Amkerian counter-task-fleet, which Mike saw on Blue 1’s sensors to his great relief.
“Reinforcements have arrived!” Mike shouted, as he sped towards the section of the Amkerian task-fleet behind him, while the Amkerian starfleet fired photon-shells at Trudierre’s fleet. “Thank you, dear Lord!”
“USS Karsarvan to Blue 1,” sounded a deep, booming man’s voice over Blue 1’s radio, “do you read?”
“USS Karsarvan, this is Mike Bonhoeffer in Blue 1!” Mike said joyously. “Thank God you’re here!”
“This is Battle-Admiral Dokk-Nimmax on the Karsarvan. Looks like you could use a hand. Care for some fighter backup to take care of Potty-boy’s fleet?”
“You bet, Admiral!”
“You’ve got it, Earth-friend!”
Blue 1’s sensors indicated that legions of space-fighters dashed out from the Amkerian fleet’s starships to join Blue 1 in battle and within one minute were flying beside Mike’s fighter.
“Red-Cat 1 to Blue 1, Red-Cat 1 to Blue 1,” the pilot of the lead fighter radioed to Mike, as Red-Cat 1 sped up towards Mike in Blue 1, “do you read?”
“Blue 1, I read you, Red-Cat 1!” Mike said. “You’re among the fighters that are speeding towards me?”
“That’s a yes, Blue 1” Red-Cat 1 said. “We’ll give you all the cover you need. Ready to do your bit?”
“That’s a yes, Red-Cat 1!” Mike radioed.
“Red-Cat 1 to all fighters,” Red-Cat 1 radioed to the other Amkerian fighter-ships, “let’s give Law-Knight Mike in Blue 1 some cover. Gentle-beings, let’s clear the track!”
With those words, Blue 1 and the Amkerian space-fighters attack-dashed like mad hornets towards Trudierre’s starfleet and engaged their enemy in blazes of ray-gun glory!
BRIDGE OF HRMKS SKANDARIO
“WHERE IN PERDITIA DID THEY COME FROM?!” Trudierre shouted with a vulgar snarl, as he saw the Amkerian fighters coming from both in front of and behind his Kannatikan fleet. “HOW DID THEY FIND OUT ABOUT OUR ATTACK?!”
The Skandario’s Intel-Officer Lieutenant-Commander Stevvo-Dieaunne reported, “KASIF has reported that NISA operatives posing as Armed Forces tech-officers infiltrated our HQ and scrunch-beamed the battle-plans to Vaxerthony.”
I also gave those you wish to destroy My information on your satanically pathetic plans, Trudierre, spoke the voice of Jesus into Trudierre’s mind with Divine paternal harshness.
“W — w — who’s that?!” Trudierre asked, in extreme fear.
Jesus said, I am the Lord God Almighty.
Trudierre was New Age-style naively relieved, as he said to Jesus to try and appease Him, “Yes, my dear god, I am your child —”
I SAID THAT I WAS THE LORD GOD ALMIGHTY, Jesus shouted into the Kannatikan Minister-In-Chief’s mind, NOT YOUR MASTER, POTTY-HEART!
After Jesus thundered Divine scolding at Trudierre, He continued in His pain-borne wrath, YOU OPENLY REJECTED ME, TRUDIERRE! SINCE YOU, AS A LEADER OF A NATION, ORDERED AND AUTHORIZED THE MASS-MURDER OF BILLIONS OF INNOCENTS, THE PILLAGING OF MILLIONS OF WORLDS, INCLUDING CAPTAIN KHRAA-VEH’S STUDY-PLANET RUBIAAR IV, YOU ARE MY ENEMY!
“I AM THE LEADER OF MY STAR-REALM!” Trudierre shouted in satanically defiant outrage at Jesus, making everyone else
on the bridge alarmed and terrified.
THE ENTIRE UNIVERSE IS MINE! Jesus, in His just outrage, thundered into Trudierre’s mind. I MADE YOU KANNATIKA’S MINISTER-IN-CHIEF, POT-TRUDIERRE, IN ORDER TO PROVE HOW EVIL AND WORM-LOW YOU AND YOUR FOUL, FOOLISH LIBERALIST ILK REALLY ARE! YOU ARE JUST LIKE YOUR FATHER, POTTY-MIND, BACK WHEN HE OCCUPIED YOUR OFFICE! AND YOUR FATHER IS NOT WITH ME. HE NOW BURNS IN PERDITIA WITH ALL THE OTHER COUNTLESS EVIL SOULS WHO HAVE DEFIED ME AND MY GOOD WAYS!
“I AM THE MINISTER-IN-CHIEF OF KANNATIKA, DAMN YOU!!!” Trudierre shouted in defiance at Jesus at the top of his lungs, shaking his tyrannically clenched fist in the air. “AND I DO NOT HAVE TO RECOGNIZE YOU AS ANYTHING!!!”
Then once this battle ends, Potty-soul, hellfire will be your eternal residence, Jesus said more quietly yet still firmly into Trudierre’s mind, as the alert klaxons blared and the red alert lights flashed around the young, angrily impish Kannatikan dictator.
Your Amkerian combat pilot is as good a flying war-knight as I’ve known any combat pilot from my Earth to be, I can assure you. Still, Trudierre’s Kannatikan fliers put up a good fight in the Battle of the Solar System, as the Amkerians racked up — sorry, accumulated — a kill-loss ratio of 3-1.
It was like a scene straight out of our space operas — fantastic viddies, as you Known Universe people might call them — like the Star Wars films, Battlestar Galactica (both the Godly 1970s original and the more secular post-2000 remake), The Last Starfighter and the Independence Day movies. Fighter-craft after fighter-craft from both sides were blasted to bits! It might as well have also been a scene out of our Second World War’s aerial battles such as the Battles of Britain and Midway. My heart goes out to the families who lost loved ones in the Battle for the Solar System.
All I can say is that the five factors that helped me in that battle were:
(Alph) My faith in the Good Lord God Almighty;
(Bett) My sense of patriotism and duty to my own country, the United States of America;
(Gamm) My belief that what I was doing was for the good of my planet;
(Delt); My playing endless hours of aerial/space fighting video games with Glenn, Val and Donny (what’s a dad to do to try and keep up with his kids?); and
