Necropolis

Posted on Jul 05, 2016 @ 8:27pm by Captain Michael Turlogh Kane

Mission: Fortress: Earth

"NECROPOLIS"

(Continued from "Afterglow")

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"The world will hold its breath and fall silent when [our attack] is mounted."
- Adolf Hitler

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Location: Place de la Concorde, Paris
Stardate: [2.16]0705.1620
Scene: Deserted Federation Council chamber


As the holo-cameras whirred and clicked in record mode, Dilbert Davis prepared to begin his FedNews broadcast. He ran his eye down his PADD, picking out the keywords he was going to speak, trying to ignore the silence looming in the deserted chamber of the Council of the United Federation of Planets.

The population of Earth was stirring. Revolt was brewing as the forty billion people who called this planet home chafed under the constricting web of the Aegis weapons system. By now, word had spread around the planet that Starfleet was in orbit, seeking to topple Richard Edgerton from his throne. They were broadcasting a round-the-clock ultimatum from so-called President Sardak, demanding the unconditional surrender of Edgerton and outlining the fact that he and all his primary supporters were Neo-Essentialists, something that had surprised Dilbert and his co-anchor, Steve Tinsell, when they had heard it. That surprise had only lasted a little while, and make sense when they both stopped to think about it. Anyway, they both had jobs to do, and the newly-branded FedNews had a duty to tell the public what was really happening. Starfleet had revolted against the lawful rule of Richard Edgerton and was laying siege to the planet - now, more than ever, people needed to see that the old trappings of government were as empty and hollow as this room.

That was why they were both here. While Steve set up exterior shots around the empty Place de la Concorde, Dilbert was indoors, preparing to do an intro scene from the former chamber of the Federation Council. That particular body was no longer in existence, having been suspended when the Federation Charter was rescinded two years ago. Ever since then, the place had been mostly empty, populated mainly by bored custodians and soulless janitorial robots. Like the Assembly chamber, the Council chamber stood still and silent, an old monolith to a dwindling past.

Ozymandias in the desert, thought Dilbert. That's what the Federation is now. He admitted to himself that he very much liked what it had become, what he had become along with it. Spreading Edgerton's propaganda was a necessary duty to the new United Earth, reforged from centuries past and brought to life once more. Humanity First had a wonderful, exciting ring to it. He had become an important man through his media work in the past two years, able to influence what billions of people were reading and hearing. There was nowhere on this planet that Dilbert Davis could go and not be recognised - his was the thin, lined face that all Earthers saw whenever they connected to FedNews. His smiling face and easy-going manner belied the importance of his words - the words that were helping billions of Humans make sense of this new world they were living in.

The broadcast countdown finished. Dilbert put his PADD to one side as the lights on the floating holo-cameras changed from red to green. He was live across planet Earth.

"Good morning and welcome to another special edition of FedNews, the most fair and balanced news organisation in the galaxy!" Dilbert spoke confidently and clearly, his lips spreading into a friendly smile. "I'm Dilbert Davis, reporting live from the Council chamber of the old Federation. Today, we continue our series 'Making Earth Great Again', in which we show you the decadence and corruption of the old regime that had kept Humanity enslaved for so many centuries."

He stepped back a little, and the holo-cameras flitted around like butterflies, panning around the chamber. There was a small dais at one end of the room, upon which sat a desk with a regular, unremarkable seat - this was where the President or Vice-President sat when the council was in session. The rest of the room was laid out like ripples from a stone splashing into a lake. Immediately before the President's dais was a semi-circular desk, a beautiful mahogany piece carved from sustainable forests in Honduras, with fifteen places. These seats would have been occupied by the fifteen Council members - four permanent and eleven elected - and would normally have been laid out with PADDs and jugs of mineral water. Now the desk was unoccupied, its smooth, varnished surface hidden underneath a white muslin cloth shroud to prevent the dust from gathering.

There were several rows of seats set behind the semi-circular desk - these places were for any authorised observers of Council business, such as representatives from Starfleet or foreign ambassadors and their staff, but they too were all empty. As Dilbert moved between the plush sky-blue carpet and the faux-marble flooring, his footsteps echoed loudly. His voice boomed, reverberating off the walls.

"Just over eighteen months ago, the Federation Council voted to declare martial law and to charge Richard Edgerton, then merely Starfleet's Chief of Staff, with throwing back a treacherous and unprovoked invasion by the evil Romulan Star Empire. What has happened since then is common knowledge - how Admiral Edgerton directed the repulse of the invaders, how he weeded out the enemy agents in our midst, how he launched the Aegis shield to protect us and our children - but how much do we really know about the corruption that went on in this chamber?" Dilbert gestured to the empy Council table. "None of the politicians who sat at this desk were ever elected by the people. They were appointed by the faceless Federation Assembly, a body where political alliances were made and broken depending on the issue of the day. Now, all that is behind us. The sun has risen on a new day for the Human race, and it promises to be the most beautiful in our history. No more Federation draining the resources of this world. No more Starfleet wars chewing up the lives of young Humans in some far-off god-forsaken frontier. No more aliens influencing our children. Humanity First from now on. Paris will be our city, not theirs. As Admiral Edgerton says, we've taken our homeworld back, and now we're going to make Earth great again."

The holocamera lights flashed back to red, and Dilbert relaxed as the live segment switched to a pre-recorded report. He was off the air for a while. Time to set up the next shot while Steve prepared for his segment - a random chat with the man on the street about life on the new Earth. Idly, he wondered how his colleague was getting on outside.

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Location: USS Century, high above
Scene: Captain's Quarters


It had been a long few hours, and Dexter Marxx had spent them all thinking. He had wandered the decks of the Century, marvelling at how much he still remembered. Seventeen years was a long time, and no ship would have lasted that long in front-line service without some sort of change to her superstructure or internal systems. A refit or two would have been expected, at the very least.

But it was wonderful how much he did remember. The curves and angles of the ship were all the same. The turbolifts were in all in the same places, as were the major departments like sickbay and engineering. The corridor layout had not changed much, and even the location of Lucky Thirteen was the same. Superficially, it was not the identical Century he had served on all those years ago, but in her heart, he felt it was the very same ship.

She had a good crew, too. Once the Neo-Essentialist officers had been purged from their ranks, the loyal junior officers had come to the fore. Lieutenant Cassidy on Ops was smooth and analytical. Ensign Gavok, the Tellarite tactical officer, was professional and accurate. Ensign Chopra, the flight control officer - well, Dex had to suppress a smile at her. She reminded him so much of Breanne that sometimes he thought the All-Father had put her on board to keep his heart strong.

He had come back to his sparse quarters following his walk around the ship. There had been no time to pack his personal effects before the Century left Earth, so he'd had to make do with his new Admiral's uniform and precious little else. No holographs of family, no personal toolbox for tinkering, no gi. He missed the latter most of all - similar but slightly different to the Terran version, the Vegan gi was a long red robe worn during the practice of the Vegan martial art of Tosharri. Named after their desert homeworld, Tosharri was a focused, rigid form of unarmed combat that emphasised sudden, quick strikes that harnessed the body's spiritual energy. A bout of Tosharri in the holodeck would clear his head right about now.

Like the All-Father's Great Wheel of Souls, his thoughts revolved, turning back to his dead daughter and the current situation with Edgerton. Dwelling on the former for too long unleashed a flood of memories and emotions that ran together like paint, making a confused palette of feelings within him. His thoughts were muddied, and he needed to make them run clear.

He sat down in the middle of the floor and closed his violet eyes, inhaling deeply through the nose, out through the mouth, trying to centre himself. He thought of the All-Father's Great Wheel again, focused on its slow turning, over and over in an endless circle, that had no beginning, no end. The souls of the dead were spun in the wheel, entering it when they died and exiting it when they were reborn into the next life. One day, his soul would enter the Great Wheel too. Perhaps he would see Breanne again if she was still there, or perhaps she had already left it to begin a new cycle of existence somewhere in the universe. Perhaps she lived in the heart of Ensign Chopra. Perhaps, on some peaceful world orbiting a beautiful alien star, she was at this moment opening her newborn eyes to a new world, a new loving family, a new life.

The youthful Dexter Marxx - a ghostly figure that now only lived in his dreams - looked nothing like his reflection in his bathroom mirror every morning. His violet eyes were no longer bright - they had lost their lustre and were now riveted in place by a dark, downturning mouth and lines that had appeared one morning, seemingly out of thin air. The years, creeping up on him.

Ensign Dexter Marxx had been assigned to the USS Zeus, then the mighty USS Odyssey. Over the years he had fought the Kem D'Neel for the fate of all life in the galaxy, had warred with the Locusta Regime, had risen through the ranks until he had been given the centre seat on the newly-constructed USS Century. He lived the best years of his life as captain of the Century, serving alongside a generation of Starfleet officers that took on the first encounters with the Thal. Names and faces floated by in the darkness of his mind's eye - Deacon Reese, Callista Alaica, Lorn of Borg, Jacen Katana, Robert Collis. All gone now. Some dead, some retired, some missing. They had all passed on, blown away like dust on a Vegan desert wind. The universe did that, he knew - it gave you everything, filled up your senses so that you were amazed and invigorated and eager to live, and then it started to take it all away, piece by piece, until it stripped you bare. Little parts of your life fell away day after day, so small that you might not notice, until one day you had nothing but the memories of when you had everything.

And then there was Siobhan. She was out there right now, he knew, doing what she did best - being a starship captain. Their relationship had come full circle. When they first met years ago on the Odyssey, they were adversarial towards each other, engaged in a counselor-patient relationship that blossomed into love. A miscarriage during the Romulan Incursion seventeen years ago didn't dampen that love, but life in the fleet did. Both of them had gone career, and as the days apart became months that became years, the fire became a flame, became an ember that faded away into nothing. At the end, he had thought so little of their time together that he had transmitted their divorce papers over subspace.

The All-Father's Great Wheel kept turning. His daughter had died in the Gamma Quadrant years ago, but it would always be only yesterday that he last saw her alive, and was reminded of her every day in the youthful glint in Ensign Chopra's dark eyes. His love for Siobhan Reardon had sputtered out years ago, but he would never forget her smile, her touch, and the way she moved underneath him when they were alone

By the All-Father, he mused, has my time passed on? Has my place in the world been supplanted by a new generation? Am I so old as to have outlived my usefulness? An old man was a paltry thing, a tattered cloak upon a stick, unless he found it within himself to keep pushing onward.

Edgerton had needed a public face to lead this fleet, and Dexter Marxx, the ageing hero, had supplied it. Now, in a stunning reversal, he was leading Starfleet itself in a last effort to restore the Federation as he knew it. A hundred thousand people looked to him for leadership, and Dexter Marxx had never been one to consciously let anyone down. The road had twisted and turned like a knife in a wound, but he would not turn back. He would do the right as he saw the right, even if it meant friction with Marie-Claire Martine or Alexander Towers.

He opened his eyes again. He would not be that paltry old man wrapped in a cloak of impotence. He would not be who Richard Edgerton had wanted him to be. He could only be, and would only be, Dexter Marxx, and Richard Edgerton would soon find out that even an old Vegan had iron in his blood.

He got up from the floor, mentally preparing himself. It was almost time for Edgerton's next scheduled contact with the President.

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Location: Place de la Concorde, Paris
Scene: Outside, at the base of the Luxor Obelisk


Steve Tinsell threw a quick look over his shoulder to check that his holocamera was floating behind him, then straightened his necktie and fluffed down his suit. The Place de la Concorde was normally thronged with people, but since the rise of Admiral Edgerton's regime the place got a hell of a lot less foot traffic than usual. There were still several people moving around, though, more than enough for him to do a series of quick FedNews interviews with the average Parisian. He'd ask them about Admiral Edgerton and the Aegis shield, and if the respondent was enthusiastically in favour, then their smiling faces would make it to the nightly broadcast. If not - well, the Admiral's people would be interested in seeing the faces of traitors.

The sun was high in the sky. The golden webs of the Aegis shield were crackling in the atmosphere, but nothing could dull Steve Tinsell's mood. He was standing here in the one of the most beautiful cities on Earth, and the weather was deliciously warm and sunny.

The Place de la Concorde was the largest square in Paris and had lost none of its magnificence since first being built seven hundred years ago. If you stood beneath the Arc de Triomphe and headed south-east down the Champs-Elysses, past all the old world cafes and restaurants; if you kept going as the avenue moved through the historical Champs-Elysses Park, past the fountains and the gazebos and the statues of the most famous French people to have ever lived; then the avenue would open up into the Place de la Concorde, a huge public square dominated by an ancient Egyptian obelisk. One one side of the Place was the bank of the calm river Seine and the Concord Bridge, and the other was the government complex of the old Federation - Assembly and Council buildings, and the office of the President. All the trappings of the capital world of the United Federation of Planets.

Beyond the square was the Tuileries public garden and its assorted buildings, including the Louvre. Tinsell made a mental note to get a camera shot of himself standing under the splendid glass pyramid of the museum's entrance.

The people moving around in the Place were chiefly tourists from around the quadrant. Not too many of them were stopping to take in the sight of the Federation government buildings - most of them were on their way either to or from the Louvre. There were several off-worlders milling around, and there was an almost-palpable air of tension. As Tinsell looked around, he realised that their collective joviality was forced, that everyone was spending more time looking upward at the golden energy strands in the sky instead of their immediate surroundings.

Plastering a smile onto his face, Tinsell stepped forward into the path of a man who was crossing the square toward the river. He was a lean, middle-aged light-skinned Human with thinning white hair and an upturned mouth, and Tinsell clocked him immediately. Older white Human male, maybe even a veteran. Probably leaned toward the right politically. A perfect start to his propaganda montage.

"Pardon me, sir, do you have a moment for FedNews?" he said in a friendly fashion. The man stopped in surprise, looking in some alarm at both Tinsell and the floating holocamera at his shoulder. "I'm Steve Tinsell for Special Edition, here on the streets of Paris to find out what people think about the Aegis shield. Tell me, do you - "

The man suddenly jabbed his finger in Tinsell's face. "FedNews is not real news," he said angrily. "You're a propaganda mouthpiece for the Neo-Essentialists. And as for that travesty - " his finger pointed upward at the sky - "the sooner Starfleet blows it right the fuck out of the sky the happier everyone on this planet will be!"

Steve Tinsell was flabbergasted. He floundered, trying to think of a good follow-up, but didn't get the chance. Nearby, an Andorian man and woman who watching the exchange stormed up to him. The woman was furious, her skin flushed a shade of purple while her partner tried to pull her back with placating words that were having no effect.

"Hey! You! Liar! Racist!" the Andorian woman cried. She was slender and fine-boned, and her antennae were sticking straight up in the air with her excitement. She got right up to Tinsell and began to berate him loudly, drawing the attention of other passers-by. "Why do you keep saying that you want this planet for Humans only? You realise that most Humans want to be in the Federation, despite what your ugly little news channel keeps trying to tell us? You know, the Federation? The thing you helped to found all those years ago?"

Tinsell reached for his control pad to deactivate the holocamera.

"That's right!" exclaimed the Human man, nodding in agreement. "How stupid does Edgerton think we are? Martial law was only supposed to be a temporary thing, but it's been two years now! Two years! When is the Assembly going to reconvene?" He gestured to the millenia-old stone building behind them. "Tell your fucking fascist boss to come down here and hand power back to the people!"

"Restore the Federation!" yelled the Andorian woman, snatching Tinsell's camera control pad from out of his hand and flinging it into the Seine with a splash. She turned to the floating holocamera and yelled into the lens. "We're stronger together! Down with Admiral Edgerton!"

Tinsell quickly backed off from the angry little group, wondering where Dilbert was. Surely his day was going better.

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Location: USS Phoenix, high above
Scene: Captain's Ready Room, Deck 1 (saucer section)


Michael Turlogh Kane got up from the centre seat when Jake Crichton and Byte exited the turbolift onto the bridge. "You have the conn, Mister Jos," he said to the Andorian ExO, directing the two arriving officers to his ready room with a gesture.

The space-walk from the Tigris to scan one of the Aegis satellites had been accomplished, and they had deployed James Barton to the surface of Earth while they were at it. There had been some danger when the satellite being scanned had opened fire on Jake while he hung in space near it, but Byte had managed to beam him back into the Tigris and then return them both to the Phoenix. Now, shed of his spacesuit but with PADD in hand, Jake was ready to present his data.

The doors to the ready room opened and Thomas Varn was sitting in Kane's seat.

All three of them - Kane, Jake, and Byte - stopped dead. Varn was sitting there with his feet up, idly scrolling down through some text on the desktop terminal, wings tucked in neatly under his arms.

"Mister Varn," said Kane slowly. "How did you get in here?"

Thomas gestured to the other door like it was the most natural thing in the world. "This ship is positively riddled with access tunnels, Captain. You can go anywhere in them. Didn't you know that?" He took his feet down from the desk and sat up straight, looking past Kane to Jake. He nodded at the PADD in Jake's hand. "Got the results of the scan there, Commander? Depending on the results, I might have a way for us to get through that shield."

Kane stepped forward. "From now on, you will remain in your quarters until cleared to leave," he said dangerously. "Do you understand me, Mister Varn?"

"I'll be leaving then," said Thomas, standing up.

Kane pointed to the couch by the wall. "Sit down there," he ordered. "And if you have anything to contribute to this discussion, you will speak up immediately." He sat down in his seat, the one Thomas had just vacated, while Jake sat down opposite him at the desk. Byte stood by the door, hands behind its back in a stiff military posture. Turning his attention to the engineer, Kane nodded at him. "I'm glad to see you're still in one piece, Commander Crichton. Well done to you both on accomplishing such a dangerous mission. Report, please."

"I had help," said Jake, sharing a quick look with Byte before activating the PADD. "The up-close scan worked a treat, Captain. I was able to fine-tune the tricorder right down to the nuts and bolts."

{{The satellite we chose to concentrate on detected our scan,}} said Byte crisply. {{That has not provoked a reaction in previous ship-based scans, but for some reason it did on this occasion. It may point to a finely-detailed internal systems program.}}

Kane nodded. "Go on, Commander Crichton."

Jake looked at the PADD screen while Kane, Byte and Thomas looked on. "I can confirm a number of our generalised scans, but here's some interesting data. Each satellite is being powered by a quantum thaleron generator that is operating in the tertiary EM band. This generator is powering every system in the satellite - sensors, weapons, its onboard computer, everything. It's the generator that will release the thaleron radiation onto its surface target zone."

{{It is important to remember that radiation is a form of energy, sir,}} interjected Byte. {{A radioactive atom - thaleron, in this case - emits radioactivity because its nucleus has too much mass to be stable. When released from a controlled environment, the nucleus breaks down in an attempt to reach a stable, non-radioactive state. The energy released as the nucleus disintegrates is radiation, and it is these high-energy particles that are so deadly to organic life.}}

"They tear your DNA apart at the base level," said Thomas wolfishly. "Your body is destroyed from the inside out. Death is quick, but there would be just enough time to realise what was happening."

Kane looked at him distastefully and turned back to Jake. "What other armaments are the satellites carrying?"

"If they're all identical to the one we scanned, then we're looking at around one hundred quantum torpedoes and five phased polaron banks, as well as a shield emitter." Jake let it hang in the air and then shrugged. "To make matters worse, each of those systems seem to be separate and redundant, meaning that the thaleron generator is powering separate weapons systems, shields, sensors, everything. The phasers, for example, would seem to have already been pre-programmed with instructions. They don't need to access the satellite's computer to figure out whether to fire or not, they're probably just set up to let fly at anything inside a proximity zone."

{{That will make altering the programme of each satellite most difficult,}} said Byte calmly. {{Instead of one centralised system controlling all aspects of an individual satellite's operations, we are faced with multiple redundancies.}}

"It gets worse," said Jake dolefully. "Tricorder scans indicate that the skin of each satellite is constructed with a carbon polymer that attracts and holds tachyons in place. The tachyon strands are not being generated by the satellites, Captain, they're being held in place by them. The tachyons themselves have no power source, even though they're also operating in the EM band - they've been generated to pin-point accuracy and are now rigidly connected to the attractor polymer on each satellite."

"So we can't shut down the tachyon web either," said Thomas.

{{It is probable that the satellite network is being monitored from a ground-based control nexus somewhere on the surface,}} said Byte. {{This control nexus must also be the location of some sort of override. It is improbable and illogical to assume that the Aegis shield is designed to stay in orbit forever.}}

Kane leaned back in his seat and sighed. "Incredible technology. The perfect defence system."

There was silence in the room for a moment.

Then Thomas spoke. "Not perfect."

The other three looked at him.

"What do you mean?" asked Kane.

Thomas stood up and began to pace the room. "We can't approach the satellites because they'd detect our starships and release the thaleron. We can't interfere with the tachyon web because once the links are broken, the satellites will detect it and they'll release the thaleron. We can't stop them releasing the thaleron by hacking the system because if we do they detect it and - well, they release the thaleron." He stopped in his tracks. "Basically, any form of interaction with the Aegis network results in the destruction of the Earth's surface."

"You paint a bleak picture, Mister Varn," said Kane.

Thomas looked at them all. "Let's not interact with it."

Jake frowned. "What?"

"Instead of figuring out a way to circumvent the Aegis shield by altering it," said Thomas slowly, "let's figure out a way to circumvent the Aegis shield by altering ourselves."

That got their attention. Jake and Kane sat forward, and Byte was frowning.

{{An intriguing concept,}} the android remarked. {{A cloaking device, perhaps?}}

"A cloaked ship might fool the satellites, but it would still break the strands of the tachyon web and lead to Armageddon," said Jake.

"Remember when we were in Elandipole?" said Thomas. "Remember the chronoton artifact, how it was able to make the Pendragon slip in and out of - "

"A phase cloak!" exclaimed Jake suddenly. "Is that possible?"

{{Thanks to your scan, we do know the satellites are operating in the tertiary EM band,}} said Byte thoughtfully. {{It is scientific fact that tachyons also operate in the EM spectrum. A phase cloak operating outside of those frequencies would theoretically be invisible to both the satellite sensors and the tachyon field.}}

Kane licked his lips. This theory sounded like the breakthrough they had been hoping for. "Are you telling me that if we fitted a starship with a phase cloak, we could pass right through the tachyon web?"

Byte thought for a moment, then nodded. {{It is theoretically possible.}}

"But not a starship," said Thomas quickly. "You'd need an enormous amount of power to cloak the Phoenix, for example, and the satellite sensors might well detect the power signature alone. Something smaller. Much smaller."

"A shuttlepod, then," said Jake. "Maybe one of the Runabouts if we're lucky. Listen, Captain, will you release Thomas from his quarters so we can work on this in Engineering?"

Kane hesitated a moment.

"I'll help if you let me, Captain," said Thomas.

Finally, Kane nodded. "There will be a guard nearby you at all times, Mister Varn," he said, standing up. "Commander Crichton, testing this hypothesis is now your number one priority. If the negotiations do not go well with Edgerton today we may need to have a plan B to hand, and this could be it. Keep me informed at every step of the process, and use whatever personnel and power resources you see fit to explore this theory."

"Understood, sir." Jake, Thomas, and Byte made to leave the ready room.

"And Commander," said Kane, making them all pause, "be certain of your ultimate recommendation. A final decision on attempting to use a phase cloak would probably have to come from either Admiral Marxx or President Sardak, so expect all sorts of questions, especially from the President. Make sure you have all your bases covered."

Jake nodded, and led the little exodus from the ready room. Kane sat down in his seat again, and turned around to face the shimmering energy web that lay between him and the surface of the Earth.

Have we finally cracked the puzzle? he wondered. And then for a moment, a little flicker of hope flared up in his heart.

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Location: Paris, Place de la Concorde
Scene: Around the Luxor Obelisk, as before


Dilbert Davis came out of the Assembly building, squinting in the sunshine. He had been wondering where Steve Tinsell was, but it was his ears, not his eyes, that guided him to Steve's location. At the base of the Luxor Obelisk, a loud argument was gaining strength, and Steve Tinsell was in the middle of it. Several angry people had surrounded him and voices were being raised.

Dilbert hurried down the steps and into the square, wondering what the hell was going on. He had almost reached the small group - several Humans, an Andorian couple, and a couple of other onlooking aliens - when he was spotted.

The Andorian woman, who seemed to be the angriest of them all, spotted him coming. She raised her voice over the hubbub. "And look here! Here comes the other one! Mister Propaganda! Mister Lies!"

Dilbert knew immediately what was happening. A bunch of outraged off-worlders and alien sympathisers had managed to ambush Steve as he had been seeking interviews. With a target to vent their ire, the aliens and the alien-lovers were unleashing two years of liberal fury at FedNews.

As Dilbert reached the group, they parted to let him in. He stood side to side with Steve Tinsell, who threw him a relieved look of thanks. "What's going on here?" said Dilbert angrily. "Leave us alone! We're trying to do our jobs!"

"FedNews is not real news!" shouted the Andorian woman at him. Several other people behind her murmured in agreement. "You're a propaganda outlet, full of bias! Everything you say is agenda-driven bullshit! You don't give out real facts unless they support Edgerton's regime! You make people stupid!"

Dilbert shook his head, conscious of the fact that he was in a public place and probably being recorded by someone. He could drag Steve by the elbow and haul him back into the Assembly building and wait for Security to arrive, but in a flash of anger he thought - why should I? My political beliefs are every bit as valid as hers. He opened his mouth and engaged.

"You're wrong, miss," he said firmly. "FedNews is a fair and balanced new organisation. We have asked tough questions of Admiral Edgerton in the past. Because we don't subscribe your political beliefs and keep it neutral, you acus us of bias. That's outrageous!" He looked around at them all. "Everything we broadcast is fact-checked!"

"Your programmes are nothing but Neo-Essentialist triumphalism!" yelled an older Human male standing beside the Andorian woman.

"We use pundits to provide critical analysis of the issues!" said Dilbert sharply. "Speaking on a personal level, I agree with them all! For example - it is a fact that more Humans died in the Second Dominion War than any other Federation member! It is a fact that there are more Humans in Starfleet than any other Federation species! It is a fact that Earth contributes every strip of latinum is produces or generates to the Federation, shoring up less developed worlds!" The small crowd started to heckle him, but Dilbert's blood was up now, and he drove onward. "Humans are carrying too much of the burden, and not all species are pulling their weight! We contribute much more than we get! We Humans can survive just fine without the Federation - can you say the reverse is true?"

The Andorian man, who had been trying to pull his partner away from the confrontation, suddenly stopped and rounded on Dilbert. "My father died in the Second Dominion War, pinkskin!"

"Oh, racism!" said Dilbert, happy to have provoked a reaction. "The Federation's time is over! We're taking our planet back and making it great again! You can either get used to it or go somewhere else!"

The Andorian woman was still angry, but she tried to control herself. "I'm not saying that the Federation doesn't need reform, but what Edgerton has done is nothing short of a revolution! He needs to be stopped!"

"It's too late," Dilbert said sweetly. "The next time you and your racist friend here visit this planet, you'll need identification papers."

"Richard Edgerton is a fascist, and so are you!" said the Human man, sticking his finger in Dilbert's face. "One leader, a personality cult fed by FedNews! No accountability to the people! He's a dictator!"

"No accountability?" scoffed Dilbert. He had the upper hand and he knew it. "Admiral Edgerton was legally appointed by the Federation Council, which voluntarily dissolved itself! Furthermore, his message has been consistent ever since he took office! Entitled, jealous people like you should be getting down on your knees to thank him from saving this planet from the Romulans!"

The crowd heckled louder. Dilbert and Steve shared a glance at each other, wondering if they were safe.

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Location: USS Demeter, holding station near Earth orbit
Scene: Turbolift -> Conference Room


Kane had beamed to the Demeter moments behind Admiral Marxx, and the two of them were sharing a turbolift en route to the negotiation with Edgerton. That had not dominated their discussion, though - Kane had been briefing the Admiral on the idea for a phase cloak. The giant older Vegan seemed interested, and had already asked a couple of questions that Kane had no answer for.

"My people need time to investigate the theory's practical application," said Kane. "If it turns out that a phase cloak is a workable idea, we'll need more time to construct it."

"Your design team already accomplished a miracle by getting your man down to the planet's surface," remarked Marxx, arms folded thoughtfully. "You've got good people over there."

"They're the best," said Kane meaningfully.

Marxx dropped his arms, made fists of his meaty crimson hands. "I wish this was over!" he grated.

"You and me both," agreed Kane.

"You'll go home afterward?" asked Marxx. "That little island place you come from - what's it called again?"

Kane put his hands behind his back, silently willing the turbolift to travel faster. "Thomond. It's gone now. Burned down in a fire. I was living on Vulcan when Starfleet brought me back."

"I'm sorry to hear that. I lived there too - on Vulcan, I mean - for three years," said Marxx. He seemed to be looking inside himself, calling up old ghosts. "I was studying at the Vulcan Science Academy. That was - " His features split into a smile. "All-Father save me, but that was almost twenty-five years ago."

"We're all getting old," said Kane.

"And running out of time," rumbled Marxx, serious again. "I'll tell you something, Captain Kane, I cannot wait to be home in Tenagra City. I am so weary of dealing with the constant ambitions of others. It's crossed my mind to recommend to the President to just abandon the Earth, do you know that? I'm ashamed to say it, but it's true."

Kane frowned, but the turbolift was slowing, and moments later, it stopped. The doors hissed open, and he stepped back to allow Admiral Marxx to lead the way. They moved down the corridor toward the conference room, and while they did so, Kane watched the Vegan. His shoulders were forward, and there was an ever-so-slight stoop in his posture that struck Kane of someone weighed down by heavy inner burdens.

For a moment, Michael Turlogh Kane wondered if Dexter Marxx was fit to hold command of the fleet.

The doors to the conference room hissed open. Waiting within were President Sardak, Marie-Claire Martine, and Alexander Towers. A chronometer on the wall showed the remaining time to Edgerton's next contact - scant minutes remained.

Sardak half-stood out of his seat. "Admiral, Captain. Welcome." He sat down again, putting his hands inside the brown folds of his voluminous Kolinahr robe. "Come and stand at my shoulders, if you please. When Admiral Edgerton contacts us again I want him to see that Starfleet is united behind the government."

And it doesn't hurt to remind the other guy that you have more ships than he does, thought Kane as he and Marxx did as they were bid.

"Is there a strategy for this negotiation?" asked Marxx. He stood behind Sardak like a giant red monolith, a whole foot taller than Kane.

"We are united as before," said Sardak calmly. "Admiral Edgerton must surrender unconditionally. If you wish, Admiral Marxx, you may interject in the discussion. Your observations on the military hopelessness of our enemy's position may help to sway him."

"As you wish, Mister President," said Marxx, as the chronometer ticked away the seconds down to zero. There was a moment of silent anticipation, and then the large viewscreen on the wall winked on. The Neo-Essentialist symbol appeared - an outline of the Earth's landmasses in gold, set against a sky-blue and white background. It was a bastardisation of the Federation's flag, chosen deliberately for that value.

The words INCOMING TRANSMISSION appeared on the screen, and Kane steeled himself. The image winked, and suddenly their nemesis was before them. Richard Edgerton was sitting alone at a nondescript desk in his small modern office, with a desktop computer terminal to one side. He was dressed in his casual admiral's work uniform. Beside him on the desk lay what looked like a portable computer unit - Kane craned his neck to try to make it out, but all he could see was that there were several displays, an input touchscreen, and several flashing red lights. A flash of inspiration struck him - was that the control panel of the Aegis shield?

Edgerton did not seem perturbed in any way. He seemed at ease. He looked at the five figures before him. {{Good afternoon, everyone.}}

"Admiral Edgerton," said Sardak politely.

Edgerton sat forward and clasped his hands together casually. {{Before we begin these negotiations, I would like to request that Secretary Martine and Colonel Towers be dismissed from the room.}}

Kane looked at Martine and Towers. They had reacted in surprise, and shot a glance at one another.

"They are members of my cabinet and representatives of the government of the United Federation of Planets," said Sardak slowly. His left eyebrow was raising into an inverted V. "Why would you wish them dismissed?"

Edgerton chuckled. {{We have a saying on Earth, Sardak. I quote - I'd rather speak to the organ grinder, not the monkey.}} He paused. {{You can have Marxx and Kane stay. They're both military men. They know a hopeless situation when they see one.}}

Sardak looked around - first at Marxx, then at his two colleagues. By their expressions and body language, Martine and Towers seemed unwilling to leave, but Sardak looked back at Edgerton on the viewscreen. "I will not enter into any binding agreement without consulting them first, Admiral Edgerton. Even if you and I come to provisional terms, they will be notified and my decision may change on further deliberation, to which you will be immediately informed. Agreed?"

Edgerton nodded. {{Agreed.}}

Finally, some common ground, thought Kane as Sardak nodded to Martine and Towers. Both of them got up and left the room, obviously displeased at their exclusion. But what was going on? This was an unexpected move from Edgerton - in previous meetings, he had not seemed to care who was in the room when Sardak was speaking to him. Kane wondered if Edgerton was going to offer a deal, or make some sort of surrender offer that he felt might make him lose face. Perhaps he was trying to spare his own blushes by not having two people who hated him rejoice at his capitulation?

When the doors had hissed closed, Edgerton smiled calmly. {{Let us begin.}}

Dexter Marxx leaned forward. "Surrender, Edgerton," he grated. "You have nowhere left to run. Everyone outside this solar system knows what you and your Neo-Essentialists have done. Even if we were to depart without taking you down, you'd never be able to make Earth an independent power in the quadrant. The Federation would still exist. Sanctions would be imposed, the blockade would continue. You'd be slowly strangled to death. All you're doing here is prolonging the inevitable, and it's getting irritating."

Edgerton nodded, the sides of his mouth curling into a rueful smile. {{We're all slowly dying, Vegan. Like your daughter did. Remember?}}

Marxx bristled, but held his tongue.

"Admiral Marxx is correct," interjected Sardak calmly. "An independent Earth cannot work within the boundaries of a wider Federation. We would not permit an autocrat to rule Humanity."

{{Let's discuss that,}} said Edgerton. {{If I was to step down, would you agree to my safe conduct? Would I be permitted to live my life out in peace, in some quiet part of the world?}}

Kane glanced to his right, taking in Marxx. The Vegan's hands were balled into fists, and his jaw was set sternly. He wondered what the Vegan was thinking.

"The government of the United Federation of Planets is committed to accepting only an unconditional surrender, Admiral Edgerton," said Sardak firmly.

{{What do you think, Admiral Marxx?}} asked Edgerton. {{Would you let me go after everything I've done?}}

Marxx's violet eyes were as hard as adamantine. "No."

{{Of course,}} said Edgerton with a shrug, like it was the most natural thing in the world. {{There is a price to being a leader of men, is there not, Admiral? You know that from your long years in Starfleet.}}

A pit of worry opened in Kane's stomach. Edgerton was concentrating on Marxx for some reason. He glanced down at Sardak, hoping to catch the President's eye, but the Vulcan was intently watching Edgerton.

{{You again hold the lives of thousands of Starfleet people in your hands, Admiral Marxx,}} Edgerton continued smoothly. {{And you've lost too many to count along the way, am I right? Fighting the Dominion, the Romulans, the Kem D'Neel. Words, and ghosts, from history. You know all about ghosts, Admiral. If you're not careful you'll make millions more.}}

"Shut up, Edgerton," said Marxx. "Let the politicians speak the language of diplomacy. Here's the long and short of it. You're bluffing. Killing forty billion Humans on the surface of Earth is not a trump card, it's a suicide card. Triggering the Aegis shield is tantamount to killing yourself, only you'll take half the Human race with you."

{{Bluffing?"}} said Edgerton coldly.

In flash of cold fear, Kane realised that he was the only Human in the room. A Vegan and a Vulcan were negotiating the future of the homeworld of Humanity. By dismissing Martine and Towers, Edgerton had removed their emotional attachments towards the planet from the equation. Edgerton was dealing with a pair of aliens.

It was a trap, Kane realised with shock. And Sardak and Marxx were walking right into it.

{{Have you never read your history, Admiral Marxx?}} Edgerton was saying. {{Great patriots - Human patriots - of our past. They knew how to throw off the yoke of a tyranny. The tree of liberty must be refreshed from time to time with the blood of patriots and tyrants - ever hear that one? How about another - blood is a cleansing and sanctifying thing, and any nation that regards it as the final horror has lost its manhood.}}

"This is getting us nowhere, Admiral Edgerton," said Sardak in confusion. "Please, let us return to the issue at hand."

"What are you talking about?" exclaimed Marxx. "Give it up, Edgerton! You don't get to decide Humanity's future path - Humans do! You're a playground bully - if you were going to do something you'd have done it already!"

Kane hastily reached out a hand and clamped it on Marxx's forearm. "For God's sake, he's manipulating you both! You're both aliens to him, and he hates aliens! He's not interested in what you have to say! Cut the connection now!"

Edgerton's face seemed to be glowing with inner bloodlight. {{You don't believe that I am sincere. You don't think I'll do it.}} He reached for the control panel on his desk and started pushing the controls.

"No!" Kane desperately pushed Marxx and Sardak aside and stood in front of the viewer. "Don't do it, Edgerton! Please! Think about the innocent people you'll kill - civilians, children!"

Sardak and Marxx looked at each other in alarm as the situation suddenly escalated.

Edgerton looked Kane square in the eye. {{You are your crew have caused me nothing but trouble,}} he said coldly. {{But I respect that, because we are at war. You see us as remaining part of the Federation. I want to throw off its yoke. Only one of us can win.}}

"Admiral, please!" Kane pleaded in horrified desperation as Edgerton continued to manipulate the controls.

{{We are at war, Captain Kane,}} said Edgerton again. {{And I would kill a million little children to win.}}

He stopped pushing buttons and sat back in his seat, safe somewhere down there on Earth. Kane whirled in shock on both Sardak and Marxx.

"Captain Kane!" exclaimed Sardak, as the conference room door hissed open and Martine and Towers hurried back in. "What do you mean by - "

Kane rushed to the desk control panel. "There was never going to be a negotiation!" he said quickly, keying the desk's control panel into the Demeter's Operations station on the bridge. His heart sank when the data stream appeared. "Oh God. Oh, no. One of the satellites is turning on its axis. Thaleron generation is underway. Orbital strike imminent."

Sardak was on his feet. "Admiral Edgerton, we can discuss this! Do not use the shield to harm anyone on the surface! In the name of peace, I ask you! I beg you!"

{{Do not underestimate me again, Admiral Marxx,}} Edgerton sneered. {{And Sardak - don't forget. This is Earth. You are the aliens here.}} He pressed a button on his desk. The line was instantly muted, but he continued to sit there with a steely look in his eye, watching everyone in the Demeter conference's room begin to panic.

"Captain?" breathed Marxx.

Kane looked up. "The satellite is firing."

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Location: Place de la Concorde, Paris
Scene: What will be afterward known as Ground Zero


Dilbert Davis and Steve Tinsell, and everyone else, had said what they needed to say. Now they were just trading insults, bandying around the same cliches that were all over the news comment sections. Steve had found his voice and getting involved, decrying every one of his opponents as entitled weak-willed liberals who didn't deserve to be part of the new future of Humanity, while the small crowd of hecklers had begun calling them a pair of fascists.

Then the sky turned green.

All the voices stilled in the throats, and everyone looked upward. There seemed to be a wispy fog in the sky, refracting the view beyond it. Dilbert could see the energy strands of the Aegis web, but they were fainter, not standing out as clearly as before. He looked around, but everyone was caught up in their own puzzlement, their bickering ceased.

Dilbert's skin tickled. Everything seemed to be surrounded by the green haze now. It coloured his vision and gave everything a pleasant, if unnatural, hue. As he looked, he saw the Andorian woman scratching hard at her head. Her skin sloughed off as her hair came out in clumps, leaving welts of purple-blue blood beneath. She opened her mouth to scream in horror, but all Dilbert could hear was a strange buzzing.

It was like he was asleep and living in a slow-moving dream. He rubbed his own forearm and a patch of skin came away, and blood welled up, running down his fingers in a river. He tried to form a thought, but there was pain now, a firey hot pain down deep within him, like his soul was trying to escape from inside his chest by burning its way out.

He tried to move, but the pain was forcing him to double over. He locked eyes with Steve Tinsell and saw the strangest thing. Steve's skin was turning black, as if it were paper with a flame lit behind it. Steve's mouth was open, his tongue was lolling out, and he looked like he was trying to scream but his throat was collapsing like a burst dam. As Dilbert watched, one of Steve's eyes popped, melted and ran down his face like water.

Dilbert turned away. A panic was rising within him, and all-encompassing panic. Was he dying? Against the terrible heat in his chest, he held up his own hand to his face and saw his fingers dissolve into ash and blow away on the summer breeze.

Dilbert Davis' legs collapsed under the weight of his body as it incinerated from the inside out, and he fell forward dead along with everyone else.

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Location: Space
Scene: The satellite that has just fired


The enormous, silent green beam burst forth from the anonymous satellite that had been stationed in a geo-synchronous orbit over Paris. The beam shot down through the clouds, the thaleron particles disseminating in the atmosphere, blanketing just over five thousand square kilometres of ground beneath it. In the north-west it fell on the town of Gisors, in the north-east upon Crepy-en-Valois. In the south, its boundaries were the satellite towns of Rambouillet in the west, Melun in the east.

The thaleron sprinkled down like dust, and everything it touched died. All the animals burned alive, screaming out their terror in a staccato cacophony - dogs, cats, horses, all the pets in all the homes, all the animals in the Zoological Park. All the trees and flowers withered and died, turning Paris's beautiful gardens and leafy avenues into great mounds of radioactive ash.

In their homes, at their work, or at their leisure, over twenty-eight million people died too in what became the greatest single holocaust in Human history. Entire families wiped out. Generations gone - grandparents incinerated while holding their grandchildren. Humans. Off-worlders. All of them combusted to ash. The psychic shock of so many deaths at once temporarily shattered the minds of many Vulcans and Betazoids on the surface, leaving a permanent scar that they would never forget.

The radiation bored its way into the cracks in the ancient stone buildings of Paris, undermining three thousand years of Human history. It tore apart molecular bonds in concrete, iron, and plasteel, making the affected historical buildings little more than shells built on sand. Modern tritanium endured, but the list of sundered buildings was a terrible blow to Human culture - the Louvre, the Eiffel Tower, the Museum of Modern Art, the Museum of Science, the Arc de Triomphe, the Museum d'Orsay, Notre Dame cathedral, the Catacombs, the Bastille, the Sorbonne University, the beautiful Palace of Versailles, the Stade de France, and even a world-famous theme park with its mouse mascot, where tens of thousands of children were immolated. All the statues, all the fountains, all the plazas and squares and cobbled lanes.

The thaleron blanket settled down over everything, smothering the life out of anything beneath it. It poisoned the river Seine, killing billions of fish and threatening to pollute the English Channel. It choked the birds of Paris, and they fell to Earth in great clouds as they burned up too. Not a single thing lived beneath it. No survivors. Nothing. All it left behind was a great brand upon the surface of the planet, scarring it forever. The thaleron wasteland would remain in place for millennia, permanently altering the surface of the Earth and giving it a recognisable black spot that could be seen from orbit.

Paris remained structurally intact, but unsound, a vast silent necropolis. A city of the dead, deserted and empty, with the breeze blowing clouds of ash here and there. All that remained of the dead were shadows, burned into the ground in the flash-heat of the radiation's detonation, the last monuments to twenty-eight million lives put out in one horrific moment.

The City of Lights was extinguished. All that was left was a city of ghosts.

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NRPG: Paris has been utterly destroyed by a thaleron detonation in its sky, and TWENTY-EIGHT MILLION people are dead. The radiation will make the affected area unliveable for at least five thousand years, creating an off-limits Zone that no unprotected person can enter and live.

Take a breath.

The world, the Federation, and the FRPG, has changed irrevocably and forever, and the shape it will take in the future is unclear. Your posts will decide what happens next.

Those of you on the Phoenix may well have seen the flash that heralded Paris's doom. Those of you on the surface may not have seen anything except a flicker of a strange colour in the sky, but the world will react.

Are you through playing games?

Then write a post. You know what you have to do.


Jerome McKee
the Soul of Captain Michael Turlogh Kane
Commanding Officer
USS PHOENIX

"...we have carved out a place for ourselves among the dead; the glittering pinnacles of commerce rise along the skyline, their foundations sunk in a charnel house; and the lost lie forgotten below us as, overhead, we persuade ourselves that we are immortal and carry on the business of life."
- Catherine Arnold, "Necropolis: London and Its Dead"

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