In contrast to Mona’s preparation, Gilda’s consisted of eating fewer desserts. She was so confident of her victory that she didn’t even consider a strategy in the unlikely chance she lost. Without question, her arrogance was one of her best qualities. Without such extreme hubris, she would have been just one of the dull queens in the Swarm’s history. Gilda craved adulation, fame and eternal renown. She fantasized this competition being immortalized as an epic battle between the greatest queen ever and the upstart alien aided by the treasonous shock troop commander. To guarantee her place as a living legend, not only did Gilda need to crush CapHead and Mona, but she had to make sure they were considered formidable threats.
Sue Meets ManKiller, vignette from Volume 1, Mona Lisa on the Moon, Thirty-Two Thousand Years in the Making
Dr. Sue Grammar, professor of antiquities and World Alliance War Planning Committee member, was balled up in a tight fetal position in the shower stall of her private apartment, considering thoughts of suicide.
Sue screamed to herself, “What the hell did I do? Sure, be a patriot! Step up and be the mother of a new civilization. Save humankind from extinction. I believed my own trite propaganda. I volunteered for this—first in line to be permanently modified … God, this sucks!”
See the rest of the Story . . . LINK
The Honest Alien, a short story or possibly a book, Fiction or is it? . . . by George B. (All rights reserved published work (c) 2016 George B.)
In the tradition of the Collective, we conquer what we pervert . . . and more completely pervert what we conquer.
We accomplish our goals by creating chaos, confusion and deprivation, without which there is truly no control.
Since the Swamp is already a cesspool of rot and decay, how could we make it worse you ask? Well, you underestimate me. Though it looks chaotic, it is rather a well balanced ecosystem. You see I am special because I can see this intricate structure. The Swamp has an amazing myriad of checks, balances and feed back systems already embedded. These I can, and will compromise. I am the destroyer, the provocateur, the Lord of Flies.
Simply, to grow a crop (or anything else) one needs to disrupt or destroy, seed or infest and then tend or nurture the crop. Later one then harvests the fruits of ones labors. And then you just repeat the cycle over and over again.
Often one needs to eliminate (or as you like to say, throw someone under the bus) like Mayhem (the Bug in the Operation Sheba tamed). When this becomes necessary, so be it, their bodies just become good fertilizer. As they rot, they feed the crops with nutrients. Are you beginning to get the picture I am painting?
I simply identify and then target the weakest link, pervert it, then use it to disrupt or leap frog over and neutralize other foundational structures. Before anyone suspects, I am in control. Everyone is confused and disoriented except me. I know what is coming next, so I dictate the context and flow of all future events. No one is my equal. So, that idiot they replaced me with as the Earth’s Station Chief will eventually find out this fact as well.
After the talk with Sue, Mona made an inspection of the uppermost cargo hold. She was inspecting the marine life, a regular marine menagerie, being transported to Ceres along with a large team of biologists. Their intention was to aquaform the enormous interior ocean or sea of Ceres. This was no small task. The planetoid’s interior contained an amount of water in excess of all the fresh water found on planet Earth. The key to this enormous task was the formation of a self-sustaining ecosystem. That meant finding microorganisms that could live off the inorganic mineral base of Ceres or the small thermal vents inside the planetoid. That part had more or less started and been successful. The next aspect would be to introduce the next step up the food chain—various species of crustaceans and cnidarians (jellyfish) that would eat the microorganisms. What they really wanted was a species capable of bioluminescence, so the scientists could generate some organic light within Ceres’s internal sea.
Mona was stunned by the beauty and the amount of blue-green light coming from many of the holding tanks in the upper hold. The scientists had also brought a few genetically enhanced dolphins to assist in their efforts.
The World Alliance was desperate to find a safe and unreachable haven for refugees and survivors in case the worst-case outcome based on multiple computer modelings occurred.
They had decided that if war was coming, the World Alliance was helpless to stop the Atlantis Alliance. Ultimately, running and hiding was the only possible strategy to guarantee some chance of survival.
Mona was going over the flight plan to Ceres. The most efficient launch window to Mars opened only once every twenty-six months, so if Leviathan made the launch window, which it looked like she would, and used a rapid-transit flight path, she would be at Mars in twenty-six days, averaging seventy-eight thousand miles per hour—the high midrange of Leviathan’s ion drive capability. Once the WAMS Leviathan slung off of Mars at 0.523 AUs from Earth, the transit to Ceres should be eighty more days, for about a 3.5-month one-way trip, Ceres being 1.77 AUs from Earth.
Even if Leviathan made an emergency return trip, Mona calculated at best an eight-month round trip. Plus, if she needed to wait for the next best available launch window, it would require a round trip of one year and two months. Mona thought, The voyage gives me a good amount of time to think about a bunch of issues, so bring it on!
Excerpt from my upcoming book “The Honest Alien”
My name is Honest Al and I am an Honest Alien . . . not to be confused with undocumented aliens, dreamers, legal ethics or military intelligence which are all very confusing and contradictory concepts.
I am from the Planet TrollShill, My Planet is the original member of the TrollShillian Collective and is in the Andromeda Galaxy. My galaxy is 2,538,000 light years from Earth. I have been here for 2 billion years. An interesting factoid, It took 3,000,000 years for me to get here.
I am a low level civil servant and in my mid career. I have been waiting for promotion or relocation (rotation) for the last 200 million years and I am presently 10 million years behind on my pay raise.
As you can imagine I am rather frustrated and bored with this assignment.
Also, TrollShillians are not creative at all! We take others’ creations and call them our own!
Because of this fact, I am blowing the whistle on this whole operation! So to get things started here are a few things you can chew on!
Wars, catastrophes, disease, money, politics and organized religion are just tools to keep humans upset, desperate and energized. By keeping you constantly in turmoil we make you more creative. We thereby maximize creativity in the shortest time possible, it is fun for us, not so much for you.
The true age of the Universe is around 13 Trillion years as far as we know, but since no one is still alive from that era who the Hell really knows or even cares for that matter.
The important thing; however, is Sentient life first arrived on Earth two Billion years ago . . . If you remember that is when I arrived . . . not a coincidence.
Before me there were only automated drones and Satellites sent to survey and evaluate the potential for advanced sentient life forms . . . which is somewhat of a contradiction . . . because sentient and advanced don’t always equate.
We did service these surveilling machines from our observation post in your solar system from a planet between Mars and Jupiter which is no longer there. Big foul up that one.