Headlines From California
NBC's Rebroadcast of 'Roots' Draws Record High Ratings - The Hollywood Reporter - June 20th, 1853
Ottoman Empire, Bavaria, and Russia to Open Embassies in California – Sacramento Bee - June 26th, 1853
Hospital Ship CNS Mercy Arrives In Edo Bay For Six Month Visit to Downtime Japan – LA Times - July 1st, 1853
Washington Embassy Standoff Continues Into 21st Day, Cass Administration Refuses Overture of Peace – LA Times, July 6th, 1853
Everything You Need To Know About the Electric Tacoma – Donut Media – July 10, 1853
Camp Springs Now Under Siege, US Army Refuses to Allow Civilians and Foreign Dignitaries to Leave - San Jose Mercury News - July 11, 1853
CalSemi Cisco: "First New Model ASR-53 Radio Teletypes Shipping To Customers 1853 Q3" – Ars Technica – July 14, 1853
8minute Energy to Open The First Utility-Scale Solar Farm in Hawai'i – UtilityDive - July 13th, 1853
Fact Check: Emperor Nicholas's Claims of Christian Oppression in Macedonia Region. Our Rating: Pants on Fire - PolitiFact - July 22nd, 1853
Netflix's New Documentary Series 'Erberus and Terror' Paints a Terrifying Picture of Downtime Exploration - Buzzfeed - July 24th, 1853
Headlines From Around the World
Washington Embassy Standoff Continues as Cass Refuses To Acknowledge California as a Sovereign State – New York Tribune – July 5th, 1853
Port of Southampton to Undergo Massive Overhaul to Handle Containerization, Constructs Dock Crane – The Times – July 10th, 1853
Sen. Charles Sumner (FS-Mass.) Delivers Scathing Rebuke of Slave Power's Role in California Crisis on the Senate Floor - The Liberator – July 15th, 1853
Industry Magnates Interested in the Sale of Californian Made 'Automobiles' – New York Sun – July 20th, 1853
First 'High Rise' Apartments to Start Construction in West Philadelphia – The Philadelphia Inquirer – July 22nd, 1853
Scathing Audit of British East India Company by KPMG Finds "Centuries of Mismanagement," Is Ordered Dissolved by Parliament. – Manchester Guardian – July 24th, 1853
Emperor Cass Creates a Disaster – Camden Clarinet – July 25th, 1853
Excerpt From The Downfall of Emperor Cass (1870), by Armando Iannucci
INT. PRESIDENT'S OFFICE - DAY
President Cass sits at his desk in his office. Secretary of State Beckenridge and Colonel Anderson sit at the chairs in front of the desk.
CASS
Both of you had better tell me what the HELL you just did.
BRECKINRIDGE
Well uhm… It was Anderson's idea-
ANDERSON
I was following the directives that Secretary Breckinridge gave me.
CASS
I don't care! About your little pissing contest, what the HELL did you two do?!
ANDERSON
We, uh, laid siege to the embassy, but those heathen Californians used-
BRECKINRIDGE
Mister President, we're terribly-
Anderson puts a sock in the mouth of Breckinridge
ANDERSON
-used a pair of flying machines to get around our siege and retreat to that zit of a fortress they refer to as Camp Springs.
CASS
I don't CARE what excuses you two IDIOTS come up with! This EMBARRASSMENT of a siege has gone on for four weeks. FOUR! WEEKS! I do not want anyone leaving Camp Springs! Both of you had better come up with something or else BOTH of you are fired. Did I make myself clear?
BRECKINRIDGE
Yes sir Mr. President
ANDERSON
Crystal clear sir.
CASS
Good. Because both of your careers are on the line here.
Anderson and Breckenridge make their way out of the office as fast as they could. As soon as they leave, Cass stands up and grips his desk. In a bout of anger, Cass flips his desk, throwing everything on it to the floor.
Gyeongbokgung, Hanseong — Kingdom of Joseon - July 1st, 1853
Former Marine 1st Lieutenant Dennis Cho was still reeling from the fact that he was assigned to be the official California envoy to the Kingdom of Joseon. He understood the reasoning behind his appointment; he was one of the most senior officials present in the Korean consulate in San Francisco and spoke fluent Korean. Despite this, he felt out of place as he was escorted by a court official through the beautiful Gyeongbokgung Palace, a palace that was a mere museum exhibit in the future Republic of Korea. Not only was Joseon... different than the Korea he was used to, but he hardly felt qualified to represent his home state as an ambassador despite his experience in the consulate and in the military.
Thankfully he wasn't alone, as he was accompanied by two members of the delegation. One of them was a fellow worker from the Korean consulate, a tall Korean-American man by the name of Park Min-ho. His eyes glanced at different objects and buildings as he studied the "restored" palace with great interest. The other individual was a Korean girl named Lee Young-joo, an international student that was studying at UCLA before the transition. Despite her young face, she had already received a history degree from Seoul University and studied history extensively, thus her role as an advisor to the Californian delegation to Korea. While she was behaving herself, her stares and looks toward various "historical" objects of significance were much more noticeable than Park's occasional glances.
"Remember, Mr. Cho. You don't need to be too stiff or nervous about meeting the current king. The current Joseon king was born a peasant and was forced to become the king due to his bloodline. He will act and look much less formal than the other members of the court. Of course, we'll all act formally, but he won't punish you for slipping up." Lee whispered to him in English.
Cho nodded, "Thank you, Young-joo. Let's hope that this meeting is a success."
The court official guiding them looked intrigued when they both spoke English but remained composed as he took them up the stairs to the throne room, "This way, Ambassador Cho. His Majesty awaits."
When the doors of the throne room opened, Cho came face to face with a very familiar scene that he witnessed in every historical Korean drama he had watched in the past. Court officials were lined up onto the side of the aisle while the King of Joseon, King Cheoljong sat on his throne above his subjects. The king wore royal clothes, but they were much simpler than the ones he had seen in museums and pictures. He smiled warmly as the Californian delegation walked in and waved his hand after the delegation bowed before him, "All of you, please rise."
The former marine raised his head but avoided directly staring into the king's eyes unless he was spoken to. His eyes darted around the throne room and saw that many of the court officials were looking at him with suspicion and fascination. When the king spoke directly to him, Cho raised his head to look at the Korean ruler, "Now, I have heard much about this "California", a land from the future that is filled with marvels that are beyond anyone's comprehension. Tell me then, do you know the future of Joseon?"
"Yes, your highness," Cho answered.
"Then enlighten me and the court about Joseon's future. I'm sure that our country is prosperous and thriving in the future like it is today?" King Cheoljong stated as he stood up from his chair and paced eagerly before the delegation.
No, it got conquered by Japan because the government became complacent and corrupt and various high ranking officials willingly surrendered Korea to Japan to keep their fortunes and positions. Cho mused silently as he formed his words carefully, "Joseon will cease to exist within 55 years, your highness."
Every downtimer within the room turned their eyes to the ambassador, their faces mixed with shock and disbelief. The king especially looked troubled as he slumped into his chair and stared at Ambassador Cho, "What becomes of Joseon then?"
"It becomes a conquered nation, a territory of Japan after the government willingly surrendered its own independence and sovereignty. Joseon will be occupied by four decades, and then occupied by the Americans and Russians after Japan is defeated in a war against the United States and Russia. In the future that I come from, Korea is divided into two nations, a North Korea that follows closely to the ideals of Russia at the time and a South Korea that follows closely to the ideals of the United States. Both Koreas are hostile to one another, as they went to war with one another, a war that left a million Koreans dead."
"Your majesty, this man is lying. There is no way our proud and powerful nation would willingly submit to those barbarous Japanese and be divided so easily!" One of the court officials cried out as he bowed to the king.
King Cheoljong glared at the official that spoke out with fury, "Silence! While I have my doubts about his tale, he hails from the future and if his stories are true, then we must ensure that history is not repeated once again."
Ambassador Cho bowed his head, "I do have several books in my possession back at my lodging that will verify my claims, your highness. It will explain the history behind Joseon's fall and the fate of Korea."
The king nodded as he looked at the Californian ambassador directly in the eye, "Tell me, ambassador, who was the ruler of Joseon when Joseon fell. Was it me?"
"No, your highness. The ruler of Joseon at the time was King Gojong, the son of Daewongun and the last king of Joseon," Cho hesitated but continued, "In the world that I come from, you passed away at the age of 32."
"At the age of 32? But I am perfectly healthy!" King Cheoljong stood up and moved around to prove his point, "What was the reason for my early death?"
"I believe that should be a private matter, your highness," Cho stated simply, feeling some perspiration roll down his back. He had studied up extensively on this time period for the meeting and knew that if the king discovered the knowledge he knew, it could potentially lead to a civil war or worse.
Muttering began to break out between the court officials as they speculated on the new revelation, but the King of Joseon silenced them and looked at Cho steely, "I insist, ambassador."
Cho gulped and glanced at some of the officials nervously, "You were assassinated, your highness. There was no official proof, but..."
"Who dared?" King Cheoljong glowered as he swept his eyes across the room. Suddenly, all the court officials cowered under the king's gaze and tensions began to rise in the room as the officials realized that it was possible that they planned the assassination that would happen in the future.
"The Andong Kim clan."
Immediately, the king yelled for his guards to enter the room. When the guards heeded his call, he pointed accusingly at several of the officials, "Arrest all members of the Andong Kim clan and throw them into prison! All of them are to be jailed for plotting to assassinate the rightful King of Joseon! I hereby declare the Andong Kim clan to be national traitors!"
The guards moved rapidly and arrested several members of the court in quick succession. Nearly a dozen individuals were escorted away as Cho looked at the king in shock.
King Cheoljong gave an apologetic smile to the ambassador, "I'm sorry, ambassador. I do not know what your history book says about me, but I will not be a forgotten king that was assassinated early in his reign and the predecessor to the last king. I will listen to what you have to say and change Joseon with my own hands if I must. Now please, continue"
Kropotkin House - Moscow, Russian Empire
It was a portrait of the Tsar's paranoia that the knowledge of "Lost History" had meant that nobody was spared his wrath, not even a princely family that descended from the legendary Rurik dynasty. Major General Prince Alexei Kropotkin had yet to read any of the lost history books, the Ministry of Education having banned them for "seditious thought," thus he had no idea that his 8 year old son Pyotr was on the Tsar's list.
As Alexei laid in bed next to his wife, he was rudely awoken by somebody knocking on his door.
Alexei groaned and put his pillow over his head, hoping that whoever was knocking on his door would take the hint and go away.
They did not stop.
"Major General! Major General! I must speak with you immediately!" Came a voice through the door.
With their visitor not likely to stop pounding on the door anytime soon, Alexei threw on a bathrobe and opened his front door. There in front of his door was a pair of Gendarmes, officers of Third Section, the Tsar's secret police.
"Well?!" He shouted angrily at the bewildered Gendarmes. "What is it that you want?!"
"Major General sir…" Said one of the Gendarmes, "May we come in?"
"If you have something you wish to say to me, you can say it to me here." Alexei rebuked.
"Please sir, I don't want to make a scene." Replied the gendarme.
"You're already making a scene by knocking at my door at this ungodly hour." Said Alexei.
As he looked out the door past the officer, he saw that a small crowd was watching them while also trying not to watch, hoping that they weren't about to end up on the Third Section's lists.
"I must insist on speaking to you privately sir." He said.
"Fine." He relented and led the Third Section gendarme into his parlor.
As the two sat down in the lavishly decorated parlour, the Third Section officer grew increasingly nervous about having to deliver this news to the prince.
"I'm afraid I come bearing some bad news about your son." He began. "I'm afraid that… I'm afraid that your son is on our list."
Alexei grew furious at this. "Are you mad!" He shouted "Pyotr is only eight years old! How could he possibly be on your lists!"
"That's who I've got on my list sir." Said the Third Section officer. "Pyotr Alexeyevich Kropotkin, wanted for future subversive activity and seditious writings."
"This is insane!" Shouted Alexei. "You are trying to kidnap my son, my heir, because you think he's going to write a seditious book in the future! I should have you hung for that!"
"Major General Sir, I am only trying to follow the orders I was given on behalf of the Tsar." The Third Section office pleaded.
"I don't give a damn about your orders!" Alexei shouted, snatching the list out of the officer's hand. "Look at this, you have Governor Perovsky's daughter on here for 'plotting to kill the tsar' when she hasn't even been born yet!"
"Major General Sir," The officer started. "I must-"
"Get out of my house!" Alexei shouted. "Get out and tell Count Orlov that I will be informing the Tsar of his plots!"
As the Third Section officer nervously backed out of the parlor, it was at that moment that Alexei heard the voice of his wife ring down the stairs.
"Pyotr? Pyotr where are you?" She asked.
Alexei turned his burning gaze towards the retreating Gendarme, quickly walking over to his front door, he found that the other damnable Gendarme was putting his son into the back of their horse-drawn wagon.
"How dare you kidnap my son!" He shouted, "I will have the both of you shot for treason!"
But it was too late, the Third Section Gendarmes had already started riding off, with young Pyotr Kropotkin in tow.
N Street Café – N Street & 21st Street, Sacramento
Sidney Herbert, 1st Baron Herbert of Lea and the newly appointed ambassador to California took a deep breath, taking in the aroma of his fresh cup of tea. The worst part about any kind of diplomatic posting for an Englishman was that it was almost impossible to get a good cuppa. In that respect, California wasn't the worst place to be, as this café he had found was at least able to make a decent cup of tea.
When that Leviathan of a ship called the Roosevelt had dropped anchor in Southampton, it had been First Lord of the Admiralty James Graham who was the first to fully realize the implications of what the New California would mean for Britain when he had been gifted a VHF Marine Radio, something that had all the admiralty drooling over what California could do for Britain.
It was very clear, Great Britain could not afford to be on California's bad side, which is why the Aberdeen Ministry had dispatched him to the Americas, to open the Crown's embassy in Sacramento, and to keep Britain on California's good side.
It was at this moment that his Californian counterpart, Michael Howells, walked into the café, carrying a copy of the Los Angeles Times.
"I never thought I'd say this, but Mr. Cass is almost making me miss the uptime President." Said Howells.
"Really?" Asked Herbert, "I was under the impression that he was a bit of a fool."
"I said almost." Said Howells. "But Trump's incompetence was at least kept in check. No such luck here."
"Well all I can say is that one should never interrupt an enemy when they're making a mistake." Said Herbert. "If Cass wants to act like King Canute, then he should not be surprised when the rising tide sweeps him away."
"And that's why you're here then." Said Howells. "The rising tide."
"In a manner of speaking yes." Explained Sidney. "Her Majesty wishes to establish an embassy in California, and likewise has invited a representative of California to St. James's Place."
"While I am impressed and pleased to hear that, I must ask, what would Her Majesty's government gain from this?" Asked Michael.
"An alliance with the rising tide, and a free trade of goods." Said Sidney, pulling a map of the Oregon Territory and British Columbia out of his attache case. "We would also request that California extend their railway project from it's planned northern terminus of Eugene to Fort Langley."
"And how does this benefit California?" Asked Michael.
"It's simple really." Said Sidney, "If California extends the railway to New Caledonia, more Californians will move into the Oregon Territory, and that territory becomes dependent on California's largesse, making annexation all but inevitable. In return, Her Majesty loses a rival for the Pacific, and gains a valuable partner in California."
"And Albinion gains while Washington loses without firing a shot." Said Michael.
"Of course." Said Sidney. "With the mere threat of a British embargo, I think California will find that Washington will become quite malleable. After all, according to your own 'Lost History,' it was the Japanese who were able to leverage their alliance with us to defeat Russia, all without Britain firing a single shot."
Outside the California Embassy, Massachusetts Ave NW, Washington DC - July 24th, 1853, 4:30 AM
Above the Californian Embassy, helicopters circled overhead, shining a powerful spotlight onto the soldiers assembled on the street. The loud noise of the rotor blades had ensured that none of the soldiers camped out on the street was able to sleep. The Californians had done this at irregular intervals every night for weeks now with one goal, make the occupation of the streets surrounding California's Embassy as frustrating as possible in the hopes that Cass would call it off.
It had frustrated the generals to no end, California was yet to fire a single shot, yet used all of their other means to annoy their men had done nothing but fuel the rumors circulating about what kind of dark magic the Californians could do.
Private James Mason had been out on watch one night and was suddenly overcome with the feeling that all of his clothes were on fire, something that had caused him to immediately strip off all of his clothes right there on his watch.
For that, he had been branded a coward and given the lash.
As Corporal Charles Fleamont laid in his tent, trying in vain to sleep, he had begun to wonder if it was worth it. For nearly two weeks now, he had kept his Mississippi rifle loaded and on him at all times, per General Garland's orders, and he was itching to use it, if only so that this interminable waiting could be over. That the Californians had yet to fire on them, instead choosing to annoy them with these petty moves showed their true cowardly nature for all to see.
As the buzzing noise of the helicopter grew louder again, a booming voice echoed from it again. "Your officers are sending you to fight a battle you cannot win! They will throw your lives away just to salvage their own reputation! Lay down your arms!"
It was the same message as every night, trying to use their honeyed words to turn his fellow soldiers into deserters. He did have to admit though that it was a mighty effective message. Already the 6th infantry had lost a large number of their men to cowardice and desertion. Mason, a man who had been impeccably loyal to the union had fled after being branded a coward, choosing to live down to his acquired reputation.
As the infernal helicopter moved off, Fleamont saw the first signs of daylight through the tent canvas, and with it came the sound of the morning bugle through the tent.
Dragging himself out of his tent and dressing himself in his uniform, he took a look at himself in the pot hung up in the tent as an improvised mirror and reflected that his uniform had seen better days.
Outside on the street, the rest of his tentmates slowly shambled outside for a breakfast of hardtack and salted pork. Sitting down on the log around the fire, Charles went to work picking the weevils and maggots out of his meal before biting down on the tough meat and nearly rock hard biscuit.
"Psst… Hey Charles!" Came a whisper from one of the tents. "We stole some rations from the Californians!"
Charles's ears perked up at that, everyone had been eating salted pork and hardtack for the past few weeks, and were desperate for anything else. Which is why he walked over to the tent on the offer of contraband rations. It was only a couple of days ago that he had to watch through the fence as a Californian soldier feasted like a king on something called "Chili Mac" with nought but an empty stomach.
Walking into the tent, he saw a stack of those pre-packaged California meals, with the printed lettering on the front declaring them to be "meals ready to eat."
With selections like "Chicken a'la King," "Bean and Rice Burrito" and "Cheese and Veggie Omelette," it was obvious that California so outclassed then that they could send perishable foods such as vegetables, eggs, and chicken to the front lines and have them not spoil.
Grabbing the veggie omelette one from the pile, Charles tore open the packaging on the meal, only to find inside a collection of smaller packages inside.
"What'd you get?" Asked the other soldier.
"Veggie omelette." Said Charles, putting the omelette package into the included flameless ration heater. "You got a canteen?" He asked.
"Here." Said one of the other soldiers, passing his canteen around to the rest of the group so they could each cook their meals.
"I'm telling you, California is all talk, no fight." Said Private Benjamin Marks, closing the bag and shaking his meal of 4 pork sausages to start the heating process. "They just stand there looking scary in their fortresses, but they're too afraid to actually fight. Cowards, the lot of them."
As the ration heater bags continued to bubble away, steam pouring out the sides.
"I reckon they're just arrogant." Said Charles, pulling his cheese and veggie omelette out of the heating bag and tearing it open. "They know they've got this huge advantage, but they don't think it's sporting when it's so unfair, so they're fighting with one hand behind their backs to make it fair."
As the conversations in the tent continued, Charles unwrapped the spoon from that odd material, and took a heaping spoonful of that cheese and veggie omelette. What came out of the bag was a quivering yellow gelatinous blob that in no way resembled what an uptimer would call an omelette.
But if Charles was at all apprehensive about eating it, he didn't show it. That first bite of it slithered down his throat it record time.
It was certainly an odd taste and the texture of it bore a close resemblance to pond scum, but compared to the dried and salted pork with the consistency of shoe leather or hardtack biscuits so tough that you could chip a tooth on them, this slimy imitation of a cheese omelette was like fine cuisine.
As the Army's bugleman started playing again to alert the soldiers to the change in watch, Charles began wolfing down the remainder of the omelette.
"Ten-hut!" Came the shout of the sergeant. "Alright you lot, you're on watch duty next, clean and reload your rifles, and then man the barricades."
Charles grabbed his trusty Mississippi Rifle, sat on the bench and got to work. The first and most important step was to unload the gun, so he took the ramrod out of the holster beneath the barrel, attached a screw to it and got to work removing the bullet from the barrel.
After a good 5 minutes banging and jostling the rifle to the stubborn bullet out of the barrel, it finally came out.
Having removed the bullet, it was far easier to remove the wadding, and black powder.
Charles then got to work cleaning, lubricating, and reloading his rifle.
"Fleamont!" Came the shout of Sergeant Berringer right in his ear, causing him to fumble and drop his rifle. "Front and center!"
Charles quickly grabbed his rifle stood at attention, "Yes Sergeant!"
"What do you have to say about the sorry state of your uniform Private?" The Sergeant asked, looking down at the fresh stains on Fleamont's frock coat. "Have you forgotten how to chew with your mouth closed?"
"Sir no sir!" He shouted.
"Get those stains off of your coat after your watch Private." Berringer ordered.
"Yes sir!" Fleamont replied.
As the Sergeant walked off, Charles sat back down with his rifle and started back up cleaning and reloading it.
Having already removed the bullet and the powder charge, he grabbed a new black powder charge out of his ammunition pouch, putting it down the barrel, followed by a set of wadding, and then a fresh bullet.
Having placed the bullet down the barrel, he grabbed the ramrod and started packing the new road in place, leaning his head over the barrel to make sure that he was packing the fresh round in tight.
It was at this point that things went horribly wrong.
The percussion cap on Charles' rifle had begun to leak Mercury Fulminate salts onto the nipple. This would be a problem on its own, but the quartermaster was trying to get everyone to preserve their limited supply of percussion caps, and so Sergeant Berringer had ordered the men to keep the caps on their rifles, and the quartermaster himself had chosen to start reissuing old unfired caps in order to prolong their supply of caps.
Unfortunately for Charles Fleamont, as he was busy with his ramrod trying to force the stubborn bullet down the rifled barrel, the buildup of Mercury Fulminate salts on the nipple had begun to press on the percussion cap.
In an instant, the buildup of Mercury Fulminate salts on the cap on Fleamont's rifle caused it to ignite, creating a small shock along with a few sparks. These sparks, in turn, ignited the black powder charge in the rifle, which very quickly turned into very hot expanding gas, pushing the lead bullet and ramrod back up the barrel.
The ramrod quickly flew out of Charles's hand, being deflected by his former grip on it just enough that it flew upwards and grazed against his skin, tearing off part of his scalp and hair.
The bullet behind it, had no such luck. It flew straight up the barrel, softening and expanding from the hot gasses behind it, while the rifling in the barrel caused it to rotate.
The lead round flew upwards out of the barrel, and crossed the space between the muzzle of the rifle and Fleamont's neck in less time than it took him to blink.
As the rest of the platoon was also cleaning and reloading their weapons, the sharp crack of Fleamont's rifle discharging caught everybody's attention, they looked over to see a large splash of red emerge from his neck.
The discharge from the rifle had caught him in the jugular vein and caused a large spray of blood backwards away from the barricade.
To the rest of the platoon, they could only watch as Fleamont slumped forward with blood spraying away the Californian embassy, leading to only one obvious conclusion.
"Open fire!" Ordered Sergeant Berringer.
Pacific Southwest Airlines Flight 1312, Camp Springs Airport - July 24th, 1853 - 8:32 PM
Mikhail Ivchenko made his way to his seat, with a notepad in one hand and a sandwich in the other.
Having once been the Russian ambassador to the US, recent events had resulted in his reassignment to California, arguably a far more important post. Which is why, in spite of the Americans refusing to let anyone out, he was on the plane. That and the tickets were cheap.
As the towering hulk of a man sat in his seat next to the aisle, he found a familiar face in the window seat
"Karma my friend!" He shouted, pulling the Indian-Californian girl into a bear hug. "How are you this fine day?"
"Considering that no one has tried to kill me in the past month, I'm doing pretty fine." Karma said. "Though you are crushing my ribs right now." she added.
"Sorry about that." Mikhail apologized, letting go of Karma.
"No hard feelings." Karma replied.
"So, what insanity have you been up to since we last met?" Mikhail asked, curious as to what the Indo-Californian had been up to.
"Well, other than getting banned from Savannah, watching the Queen of England guffaw like a lunatic over Monty Python and the Holy Grail, and whatever the hell happened in Rio, and landing a lucrative deal, nothing much." Karma replied. "I did get promoted though. I'm on the board of directors for my firm."
"Congrats Karma!" Mikhail bellowed. "I'm sure you celebrated it in only a way you did, no?"
"Of course I did." Karma boasted. "Didn't remember a thing the very next day, so that should say something." She added.
"It really does." Mikhail replied, before catching the mention of the English Queen. "Wait, you said that Queen Victoria was laughing like a maniac?" Mikhail asked, somewhat incredulously.
"I got video proof." Karma said, pulling out an iPhone. "It's comedy gold."
"I have to watch this." Mikail said, as he shifted seats to be able to watch the video.
All of a sudden, a loud noise that sounded like the bastard child of a clang and a crunch reverberated through the plane, before the fuselage tore apart on impact.
Militia Encampment Outside of Camp Springs
While the Army group outside of the DC embassy had to contend with being forced to fight on the streets of Washington, where every building was a potential nest of sharpshooters, the encampment of Maryland Militia outside of Camp Springs had only open ground, which meant that there was nothing but long sightlines around, making it easy to spot any kind of enemy advance.
For weeks now the militia had been camped out surrounding the town, making sure that nobody had gone in or out by ground, which they hadn't but the Militia had been camped outside the walls of the Camp Springs like it was Jericho. It had changed that morning though, as the walled city became a hive of activity as those flying machines started to go back and forth between Washington and their fortress.
For Sergeant Hans Eichel, he wasn't sure what had changed until a messenger from the army had arrived at their camp. Fighting had broken out in the streets of DC outside their embassy, and the Californians were retreating to camp springs. With the possibility that the siege around the walled city would end soon, the commander of the militia had ordered them to begin firing their cannons on the fortified city, with the 6 pound field guns firing away.
The concrete T-Walls had proved more resistant to a direct bombardment from the 6 pounders than originally thought, preventing them from simply knocking down the walls and invading the city. As a result, the artillery brigade had been tasked with bombarding the city with canister shot.
The gunnery crews surrounding the city were wondering what the Californian's response was going to be to the shelling, when bright lights seemed to flash in the city, the light being reflected off the cloud cover.
Eichel watched in horror as a massive explosion impacted one of the other artillery units, only for a second shell to impact moments later right next to it. The unending impacts seemed to be slowly but inevitably moving towards them. Each impacting and exploding shell was multiplying a destructive wind and it was only a matter of time before his gun crew would be next. But he couldn't think about that, he had a job to do and it was to continue the bombardment of Camp Springs.
As the cannon fired off the round, and the gun rolled backwards, his crew was already at work reloading it.
First, Samuel Irving, number 3, would go and use a gimlet to clear the vent of any debris and placed his thumb over the vent.
Then, Aaron Chase, number 2, would go in and use the worm to remove the remnants of the last powder bag.
James Woodstreet, number 1, came next with a wet sponge to clear the barrel of any still burning embers, after which, Chase would return with a dry sponge to dry out the barrel.
Chase loaded a powder charge down the barrel, followed by the canister round, after which, Woodstreet rammed it down the barrel.
The gun was now ready to fire and the crew would roll it back into position for the next shot.
As the gunnery crew watched, one of those enormous flying machines began rolling towards the runway. Upon orders from Sergeant Eichel to target the airfield, the crew repositioned the cannon to point towards the airfield.
"Prepare!" Shouted Eichel.
At his words, Irving took his thumb off of the vent hole and used the gimlet to poke a hole in the powder charge. The number 4 man on the gun, Private Theodore Williamson, then handed Irving the friction primer and the lanyard, and Irving stuck it in the vent hole.
Over on the airfield, the large flying machine had begun to move towards them at a rapid clip, making enormous amounts of noise. If Eichel wanted to make a difference, it was now or never.
"Fire!" He shouted over the roar of the plane.
At his cue, Theodore Williams pulled on the lanyard, causing the friction primer to spark in the powder charge, igniting it. The pound and a half of black powder instantly turned into a large cloud of expanding gas, forcing the canister round out the end of the bore.
The canister round shot out of the barrel at just under 1000 miles per hour, followed by a smoky fireball and a thundering crack. As the round cleared the barrel, the sabot surrounding it failed to break open leaving the true payload, a large number of smaller metallic projectiles, stuck inside the canister as it sailed through the air towards the airfield, just at the aircraft was taking off.
In a stroke of luck, the sabot impacted the nose of the aircraft just beneath the cockpit windows. Upon impact, the canister broke open, and its payload of metal balls continued forward, carrying the momentum of the cannon shot and the momentum of the aircraft moving in the opposite direction.
Each of the metal balls shot forward, damaging the controls for the aircraft before bursting out of the instrument panel and impacting the pilots. While an armored soldier could have survived being hit with these projectiles, the pilots of the airplane had no such luck, both of them had the equivalent of multiple gunshot wounds to the check, neck and legs.
Both pilots were instantly killed.
The Boeing 777, now having the cockpit electronics severely damaged and in some cases short circuiting, leading to erratic control inputs–and with both pilots dead–began to nosedive back down towards the ground.
The airplane impacted the ground at 184 miles per hour, plowing into the ground with an enormous metallic crashing sound, and throwing up a wall of dirt around where the plane hit. Upon impact, the partially retracted nose gear shot upwards into the fuselage while the lower hold of the aircraft crumpled, leaving the cabin warped but mostly intact, the wing box, also damaged by the impact, buckled and twisted, rupturing the center fuel tank and turning that part of the airplane into a fireball, lighting up the night sky. The two GE90 engines broke free of the aircraft, still running at takeoff thrust, had enough residual thrust in them to propel themselves ahead of the aircraft.
The starboard engine, having sheared off of its mount, bounced and tumbled away from the wreck, throwing up sprays of dirt every time it hit the ground, as Sergeant Eichel watched its trajectory in horror.
"Run!" He ordered his men, but it was too late, the massive GE90 turbofan engine slammed into the ground in front of them. The engine and its casing broke apart instantly, the forward momentum in the debris carried it forward like a shotgun blast. The crew of the gun were killed instantly.
CNN Broadcast via Ursa-2 July 24th, 1853 - 8:30 PM
"... The situation at Camp Springs is tense, the Department of Foreign Affairs has recommended that until the crisis with the downtime United States to not fly to the Downtime United States. Due to the lack of downtime infrastructure we have no insight into the thinking of the Cass White House, or the Congress. After the shots fired at the embassy, Roseville dispatched additional planes to ferry people out of DC. The cramped terminal is even more packed than usual, and I estimate that in the terminal alone there are nearly 1000 people trying to get out.
"Stephanie, I can only imagine how scared some of the people are there, what's the breakdown between asylum seekers and California citizens?" said Michael Martinez from the CNN studio in Los Angeles.
"It's hard to tell Michael as due to the perimeter being closed. Emergency Food supplies are being handed out and it is hoped for many people here that more planes will be coming, although it's not known when that will be… Michael I've just had word from our camera on the tower that the first plane is ready to fly."
From the tower view, a 777 could be seen taxiing to the end of the runway. Air Traffic Control broadcast continues. "Tower, this is PSA 1312, requesting clearance for takeoff."
"PSA 1312 Heavy, you are cleared for takeoff," the tower controller replied. "Once airborne, switch to departures frequency 121.5."
"Ground, CalAir 833 requesting permission for push back."
"CalAir 833, standby. A Virgin A380 is taxing behind you," a ground controller replied.
"Acknowledged." replied CalAir 833.
"PSA 1312 is now on the roll," said PSA 1312, as it began to pick up speed going down the runway, the camera following it as it approached the end of the runway and began to pull off the ground, a large crack and flash could be heard from a nearby knoll. Live on TV across the Golden State, the catastrophe played out on TV screens. The scene of ambulances and APCs converging on the crash site, the muzzle flashes from California Marines as they went after the cannon crew. The clouds above Camp Springs flashed again as the artillery units stationed in the city began another creeping artillery barrage.
Presidential Address July 24th, 1853 - 10:30 PM
"My Fellow Californians, since the Event we have endured much. The collapse of the global supply chain and rebuilding of our manufacturing centers, the shock and trauma of losing our loved ones outside of the state during the Event, illusions about the past shattered as the what would have been history is changed, to the rising tensions between a nation that we were at one point a part of. The victims of Flight 1312 were teachers, asylum seekers, businessmen, engineers, government officials… fathers, mothers, sons and daughters. In the blink of an eye these lives were ended by the armed forces of the United States, a surreal phrase I myself never thought I would have to say. These actions were intended to scare us, test our resolve, make us bend the knee to President Cass and DC, believing that their only way of stopping the clock is through fear and violence. We were attacked because through being a beacon of hope and progress for the world they are scared. They are scared because of what they wish to deny… Since the event, what to Californians is history is to the rest of the world, tales of what is yet to come. They fear what is now 'lost history' to repeat again, and are desperate to test our nation's ideals and resolve. The events of tonight show that what we once knew as history will change.
In the aftermath of the attack I asked the British, Mexican and French Ambassador to my office. They have assured me that their nations recognize the Republic of California as independent from the United States. After that meeting I met with Senate and Assembly leaders, and finally I met with Joint Chiefs. There is no doubt as there initially was with 9/11 as to who shot down Flight 1312. Our new nation will show to President Cass and his supporters that the resolve of California will not let this act of war go unanswered. Thank you, and God Bless California"
Harper's Ferry, Virginia July 29th - 2:00 AM
The town was woken up when the armory at Harper's Ferry exploded in an immense fireball utterly destroying the armory. What went unseen was the HALO drop Special Forces teams dropped in the surrounding area. Similar flights and bombing runs occured in Maryland and around DC.
———
Korean Segment courtesy of okmangeez
co-written by
@Rise Comics @Firebringer2077 and with input from
@omega13a
.
