The streets of Anuradhapura were lit by the crackling buzz of high altitude plasma bombs, releasing their stored energies into shaped fireballs of staggering beauty. Between the flares and flashes came the expected sounds: Shouts, screams, laughter, people playing the Imperial anthem on their various instruments. Normally, plasma bombs were shaped to detonate in precise and hideous fireballs that gutted specific buildings - some rumors said that the Imperial Airforce could vaporize specific square meters of real estate. But this was not a normal bombardment, and the Imperial Airforce had exceedingly specific orders passed down from their commanding officers.
Give them a show.
And so, another screaming wing of delta-shaped fighters shot by overhead, leaving behind rumbling sonic booms and glittering stars that exploded into a nimbus of light, intersecting into the shape of a dragon on his back, a spear held by a mighty warrior in the curved, swept back helmet of the average Imperial soldier. They had even gotten the nacrotic induction cables to form in hissing sparks.
Lindy scowled at the display, her hands in her pockets, and glanced down at her companion. "These assholes are worse than the Nazis," she said.
"I wouldn't know, really," her companion said, stretching a crick in his neck. "But did those Nazis of yours end up killing twenty million people?"
"According to the Imps, yeah," Lindy said, scowling harder. "But how do we know that's even an accurate figure. They also said the Americans killed two hundred million people in a date that hasn't even happened yet! They can say whatever hell number they want."
"Fair enough," her companion said. His foot was joggling on the spot, putting a quiver through his entire body. Lindy had no idea how he had ever managed to survive the entire ride to Shri Lanka, considering it had required him to both compact himself (easy enough) and then sit still and not distract her for almost six hours of flight time. She had been sure that his 'reckoning' about the Imperials and their fancy gizmos would be just so much malarky, but...no, they had slipped under the machines and scanners and whatever other stuff the Imperials had neat as you please. Finding a place to land and then hide the plane had been tricky, but once they were on the island, they were in the clear.
What had surprised Lindy was how few looks they had gotten...but this wasn't the Shri Lanka that she had read about back when she'd been a girl. The place was built up and thronging and not just with Indians. There were Chinese people, Europeans, Russians, and types of folk she had never even seen before: People with cat ears and tails, people with lizard scales and with glowing eyes in the dark. Those were the ones she pitied the most, considering they all were wearing the same drab brown uniform, with the same black rectangle on their shoulder, and the same set of collars around their necks - doing the dingy, grimy jobs that no one else in this wonderful Empire had to do.
As if he had reached some limiter point, her companion started forward, driving away from the alleyway. He had either seen something or simply lost patience. By now, Lindy was sick of trying to hold him back. She just tucked her hand into her pocket, checking to make sure her Colt .35 special was there and loaded.
The Imperials might have fancy gizmos, but they still died when you shot them. One thing that they had in common with the Nazis.
"Sir, sir, please, hold up," her companion was flagging down a rather bemused looking Imperial official who had been hurrying past the revelers.
"How can I...help...you?" the man asked, then frowned down at him.
"I know my appearance may suggest otherwise, but my genetic record is perfect, these deformities are entirely due to an unfortunate incident in my youth, right after the Nine Minute War...it's a rather involved story, but as you can see, the plastic surgeon did repair
most of the damage the autothresher caused, but he couldn't really do much about my spine..."
Lindy stepped to her companion's side, trying for a wry smile at the official, who was looking on in rapt fascination as he continued his spiel without seeming to need to pause, blink, breathe or hesitate in telling just the most outrageous string of whoppers that Lindy had ever heard in her life.
"...still, if I don't get access to the records, my boss is going to be beating me black and blue, it's not as if I have any recourse," he said, smiling cheerfully at the Imperial official. "So, might I take a glance?"
"Well, I...I suppose," the man said, handing over his fancy gewgaw over. Once Lindy's companion had his hands on it, he nodded, hurmphed, then said.
"Why, this has a genomic lock, doesn't it?" He shook his head. "You know, it really is a funny thing about these genomics..." He had shuffled, slightly, to the side, so that Lindy and the official were blocked off from the crowd by the protruding lip of the building. "Is that they now, Lindy."
Lindy stepped in and clocked the completely poleaxed official in the jaw. He collapsed as she wrung out her wrist, wincing slightly. "What do you need the record doodad for?" she asked.
"Nothing," her companion said, then flashed her a charming smile. "I just had to see him standing next to you - almost identical build and, one thing we can say about the Imperials..." He undid the first few buttons on the man's top, grunting as he jerked the jacket free, shaking some small objects from it. "...they never heard of gendered bigotries."
Lindy pursed her lips, shrugged, then blinked as he tossed her what looked like a small men's razor.
"What's this?" she asked.
"Electrostatic stunner. Rather primitive, but it should work," her companion said, taking several other small objects from the man's pockets. "Now, I'll make sure you have privacy, you get changed, and we can see about step two of this little scheme."
Lindy shook her head, slowly.
"Neelix," she said. "None of your plans are
little."
Her companion winked, then headed for the alleyway as Lindy started to shuck on her jacket.
***
Neelix frowned down at the chessboard that he had between himself and Mr. Tuvok as the two of them sat in Voyager's primer public relaxation spot. The forward screen showed the distorted ripple of space, redshifting the stars ahead of them into distorted parodies of themselves, while blueshifting the light behind them into an eerie, black hole of nothingness that seemed to chase any ship going faster than the speed of light.
Neelix shivered from his head to his toes as Tuvok took hold of a pawn, then shifted it forward. "Checkmate in three moves," Tuvok said.
"There's a fascinating human expression I just felt," Neelix said, contemplatively.
"Oh?" Tuvok asked.
"Someone...
walked over my own hospital," Neelix said, pronouncing the saying with deep and ominous tones.
"I believe it is someone walked over your grave," Tuvok said.
"Is it?" Neelix moved a knight forward, taking the pawn and spoiling the attack. "Well, still, I felt it."
"It could be residual feelings about traveling through the territory of the alien species that attacked and subjugated your homeworld," Tuvok said.
"Could be..." Neelix said, sighing slowly as he watched Tuvok regard the board. The sudden and alarming lurch of the ship dropping from warp caused both of them to lift their heads. Then Neelix gaped past Tuvok. "Well, I'll be skinned and stuffed - is that...
Earth?"
Tuvok turned his head.
He blinked slowly.
The blue-white orb, shrouded in clouds and glittering with oceanic beauty, was indeed, a perfect facsimile of Earth. The gentle curve of the Atlantic ocean hugging the eastern coast of the Americas was visible, with a swirling hurricane brewing in the equatorial regions, spiked through with shimmering lightning.
"I believe I will be needed on the bridge," Tuvok said, standing to his feet.
***
Captain Janeway crossed her arms over her chest and said, slowly, to Harry Kim: "Please record and log that scan. I want to throw it at every Kazon we meet from here until the edge of their territory."
Tuvok, who had stepped from the turbolift in time to hear that, arched an eyebrow. Harry Kim, who looked as if he had been rushed to the bridge in just as much of a hurry (considering he still had silver lipstick marks of kisses and hickies on his neck), tapped at his console. "Logged," he said. "This is not our fault."
"The OOB popped," Janeway said to Tuvok. "It popped well before we got here. The Kazon's astrometric data was out of date."
"I see," Tuvok said. "However, if they are disposed towards disliking us, then any data we have showing that we did nothing to disturb the anomaly will be dismissed." He took his seat. "Picking up several radio and primitive subspace band communications."
"Radios
and subspace?" C'nola asked.
"Hey, I used to have an old HAM radio set," Tom Paris said.
"The signals aren't, uh...they're not the kind of signals we'd get from hobbiests," T'are cut in. "There's too many of them and a lot of them are encrypted by some kind of...well, okay, for the time, this is pretty sophisticated mechanical encryption, but I can cut through them easily."
C'nola's ears perked up as her console trilled. "Captain, I'm detecting a small flotilla of ships."
"Bring them up," Janeway said, while Tom tapped several buttons on his console and C'nola flicked a switch - the forward screen's Earth was replaced by an image of five ships strung out in the classic pre-impulse orbital chain formation of ships relying on primitive fusion or fission technologies. They were all a model that twigged at Janeway's recognition - narrow tubes with half-moon rotating sections that were, currently, locked down for acceleration maneuvers. Their noses were peppered with antennas and lens turrets, and they had swept back wings of glowing radiators.
"They're DY-120s!" Tom exclaimed. "I made models of those suckers - they were...the primary orbital fighter during the 1990s!"
Janeway frowned. "Time to intercept?"
"Six hours at their speed," C'nola said. "They're not hailing us yet."
"T'are...bring up those radio and subspace signals," Janeway said, crossing her arms over her chest. "I want to know what the hell is going on here."
T'are nodded, her fingers playing along her console. There was a short pause, then the radio crackled and a voice, speaking American English came from over the bridge PA. "This is Radio Free California, broadcasting from an unknown location. While the Imperial forces occupying our great country continue their ruthless deprivations and vicious attacks against civilian targets as reprisals for the valiant men and women who strike back against their relentless tyranny, the fires of freedom continue to burn brightly in the hearts of every free man, woman and child in the west coast of America. This week, we have confirmed reports of destroyed warehouses of plasma munitions in Oregon, assassinations of Imperial genetic screening squads in the foothills of the Sierra Madre mountains, and continued civil resistance in new factories in San Francisco, Los Angeles and San Bernadino. Now, we have with us a scientist from the Department of War to instruct you in the most efficacious means of-"
The channel filled with static. T'are frowned, then flicked a few more switches.
"-people of America, while our enemy seems relentless, he can be beaten. He will be beaten. He shall be beaten. Our allies in the Soviet Union and New London continue their resistance on every front. Forces in Africa, though stranger than we could have imagined before 37th, are being armed and trained to attack at this so called Khan's sinews of war..." The voice was paternal, but with a faint edge of whimsy and a thick accent that Janeway couldn't place. And as he continued to speak, Tom looked as if his eyes were about to explode out of his head.
"That's Franklyn Delanore Roosevelt!?" He shouted.
"Who?" T'are asked.
"He was the leader of a human government in the 1930s and 1940s," Janeway said. "But those ships are from the 1990s."
"And the subspace chatter is contemporaneous with Eugenics War era broadcasts," Tuvok said, having run several programs while the crew had been listening.
"Scans of Africa show that it's got almost no people in it at all - only about six hundred thousand human life signs, mostly centered around river and coastlines," Harry Kim said. "And there's absolutely no sign of any of the ecological damage from the 20th century that should be there - and there's nothing from the African Union - no megacities, no space elevator..." He shook his head. "Europe is weirder! It's so radioactive that I'd say that World War 3 must have happened five minutes ago - but World War Three happened after the 1990s? It makes no sense!"
Janeway let out a slow sigh. She muttered, under her breath. "Yes, Phoebe, I get the irony," she said, softly.
On the screen, T'are brought up the subspace feed. Sitting on a golden throne, dressed in a simple tunic and white leggings with a golden lion epaulet, was a muscular Indian man of middling ages. He was addressing the people, his voice cold and commanding. "-the terror attacks inflicted upon our peace loving Empire wound me, to the depths of my great heart. But we shall show resolve in the face of the barbarity we find ourselves surrounded by - the true way to the future is on our hands. Tomorrow and the day after and the years uncounted after belong to us. They belong to the Augmented Empire. Together, we shall carry the burning torch of human excellence to the stars!"
The sound of cheering filled the bridge.
"...Khan Noonian Singh," T'are whispered.
C'nola's ears twitched. "Looks familiar," she muttered under her breath. "Sounds familiar too."
Over by security, Lieutenant Amy Strong frowned.
---
CURRENT TRUTHS: "Time Amok!"
CURRENT MOMENTUM: 0
You've got some 1990s battleships cruising very slowly towards you, armed with x-beams and atomic weaponry and a planet gone mad! What do you do? As usual, you can mix, match, and combine things so long as they're not directly contradictory.
[ ] Try and vanish from their scopes so you can observe in secret. The primitive computer and scanning systems from the 1990s are easily hacked and fooled, and your arrival can be explained away in various methods
[ ] Contact the United States and offer them a hand.
[ ] Actually, wait, no, contact the Soviet Union and offer them a hand.
[ ] Scan the planet in more detail.
[ ] Beam Khan into orbit at gunpoint and see if you can stop this war at its source
[ ] Write In
