49
- Location
- America
It had been several years since I was outed as an alien, and that had allowed me to do basically anything I wanted, including jump starting the tech on the world, including putting my africa space launch facility under the care of the government at Mogadishu. As the water level rose, the world started looking a bit like its old self,
Since my actions were mostly constrained by the government, which for the most part I ignored, I was able to focus my efforts elsewhere while my kids were going to school, like for instance helping out those Windsor people in what used to be england.
The USN also decided to come to me for my assistance in building a new carrier. While I stated that I would have to limit my help to simplify the construction side of things and that all of the heavy lifting would have to come from human personnel, they thought it would be fine.
With some sort of civilization finally coming back to Australia and Africa, I felt it prudent to get some sort of industries going again, and deployed several engineering battalions to set up and get car factories up and running again, employing locals and bringing some sort of industrialization back to the areas.
The very first model was something which could be made quickly and cheaply with only intermittent shipments of raw materials and slightly more fiddly bits from elsewhere like the US. A five door hatchback with a naturally aspirated, air cooled, four stroke, flat 2 diesel engine simple enough to be maintained and worked on by a child with mild to moderate down syndrome yet "powerful" enough to drive at least short distances on road, in town in a reasonable time frame. It featured driver and passenger side airbags, fiberglass body, side mirrors, dimmable rear view mirror (two sided, one side normal the other dimmed) a single 1000 lumen LED headlight, a 3 speed manual transmission, air filter and carburetor. It was dirt cheap, mass producible and too weak to use in combat by virtue of having a 0 to 60 of never.
After extensive testing and review, the perceptions seemed to be separated based on area.
America - hate
Japan - hate
Swizerland - hate
Britain - mixed
Russia - mixed
Australia - love
Africa - love
Seemed about right for what I was going for. I called it the Bison. That said, it was even affordable for the rural poor and sold well in the rural parts of the countryside where cars needed to be simple to work on, mechanically reliable, easy to maintain, fuel efficient, and capable of carrying some people while also being inexpensive.
Another design was a basic motor scooter design which was also dirt cheap, mechanically reliable, easy to maintain and fuel efficient. The Water Buffalo. It was a basic economy motor vehicle boasting a naturally aspirated, air cooled, four stroke, single cylinder engine. It was also gaining some traction in the countryside as well.
Speaking of the countryside.
-------------------------------------------
The modified Pave Low touched down on a small municipal airport in rural Alabama with a load of medical supplies where a small group of state guard was present to receive it, along with a few extra people as well. I rode in one of the passenger seats and stepped out with my contingent of bodyguards.
Two plain clothed Delta operators had opted to accompany me on the trip delivering medical supplies to the interior United States in addition to six of my own counter terrorism operatives. As the cargo ramp lowered, I was greeted by the sight of eight Alabama state guard, unarmed, and sixteen other men in vaguely military looking getup, armed.
Militias had been running rampant all over the place, especially where the grasp of the US government and the local state and county governments were thin. Previously the militias hadn't actually been crazy enough to attack actual military personnel, but evidently they were going to do things a little bit differently. It seems someone might have gotten their hands on the manifest for this shipment and reported that there was going to be a large amount of prescription opioids coming in along with the other medical supplies.
A man toting an submachine gun over his shoulder and wearing military equipment strolled up to me and my contingent.
"Well little missy. Let's get to the point. We know you're packing medical supplies and a lot of drugs. Hand em over."
Well he isn't beating around the bush at all is he?
"Excuse me sir? But I didn't get your name. You would be?"
"Judge Forester, of the Southern Dragons. We control this bit, now hand over your cargo and we might not kill you."
Yeah, there's definitely no walking away from this sort of confrontation. The Southern Dragons, though not as powerful as say, Immortan Joe, were a group of anti-government racist wackjobs who had sprung up after the great war when Washington had been reorganizing everything. While many militias had sprung up and attempted to organize, the Southern Dragons had taken the opportunity to slaughter their way through bewildered militia groups to add other similar minded thugs.
The state government had organized the rest of the militias into the state guard forces, but by then it was too late to stop the Dragons from doing what they wanted.
"Look. I'm sure we can work this out. You're after the prescription opioids right? I'll sort them out and give them to you. If we do that. Will you let us go on our way?"
I asked, attempting to avert the bloodshed.
"Heh? I don't think so. You might try something funny. No, you're gonna hand all of it over right now and we'll be doing what we please with it."
"Sir. Please, there are many people who need these medical supplies."
He sneered at me and brought around his Tompson.
"People needing medical supplies? Well here's what I think about your stalling." He turned around and opened fire on one of the State Guardsmen. The poor man was filled with bullets as his friends watched horrified and fearful that they would be next.
Once he had dumped all 30 rounds, he turned back.
"Now get moving before we"
"Yeah fuck this. Kill em all!"
"What the" He didn't exactly get that far before my M1911 had already been unholstered and shoved into his mouth. I pulled the trigger and grabbed the from his hands before it fell to the ground. A brief dusting of nanites ensured that it was in perfect working order rather than whatever passed for decent enough for the militia members.
When morgan had told me to deliver the medical supplies, I'm pretty sure he didn't mean for me to kill more people, but what exactly was I gonna do? Eh, he'd understand.
The two delta force operators readied their own Folding Machine Guns and went to work, rushing toward the line of State Guards and eliminating all of the Militias who were attempting to figure out what the hell was going on before they could open up on the rest of their captives.
Meanwhile, the counter terror operative who were already holding their weapons, flipped the safety off of their M4s and began laying down steady bursts of fire into the assorted assembled militia men. The Delta guys pushed the state guard to the ground and out of the way of the firefight before they continued to trade bullets with the assorted rednecks.
I opted to work my way over and began tending to the various state guardsmen.
"Think you guys can fight?" I asked what appeared to be the leader.
"Hell yeah I can. You're that alien gal right? How many guys do you got?" He asked as he took the submachine gun offered to him.
"Well this was supposed to be just a drop and go, but I've got a few more choppers coming so we'll have chopper gunners watching us."
He nodded and rushed to join the fight, making a good accounting of himself.
The battle was over after only a few minutes, during which the militia had been absolutely demolished. What a headache.
"Everybody check your ammo and start digging in. There are a lot of people depending on these supplies, I am not taking off with a full chopper."
-------------------------------------------
"Hey dude, I heard your mom got arrested."
"She didn't get arrested."
"Well she's in trouble for something. I heard on the news."
"Yeah, she's gonna get interrogated about that incident."
-------------------------------------------
[United States, Montgomery Alabama]
Eight deactivated letter bombs thunked onto the evidence table in front of the local postmaster commandant as several postal police men brought in more and more evidence.
"So, Jackson. You think this might be in response to the incident?" He asked with a raised eyebrow.
The postal police analyst nodded.
"No doubt about it. The Dragons lost a lot of people in that fight, most of them veterans, so they're gonna be out for blood."
"Well, at least we managed to catch most of this. Who kno"
There was a massive rumbling and what felt like a small earthquake. As the inspection room was located in the middle of the building behind several layers of armor, all the better to contain any blasts, there wasn't any damage, but the shaking was still quite noticable. One of the letter bombs almost fell off the table but the postmaster commandant managed to catch it.
Many of the people in the room readied their personal weapons and began looking around.
"What the hell was that?"
Suddenly somebody burst into the room.
"Sir! There's been a massive blast near the Capitol building. It's bad sir!"
-------------------------------------------
[Pentagon, Washington DC]
I'm not unfamiliar with the concept of innocent lives being lost as a result of my actions. The wastelands of Australia still weren't a nice place especially with regional warlords still trying to hold onto their power and Somalia still had largely the same problem despite my often extreme displays of force. It wasn't until the recent bombing that those innocent lives had been american though, and that made it worse for me.
In trying to defend the medical supply shipment, I had lost four men, one dead, 3 injured. Using a protect suit and Mg-42 as well as the help of everybody else, I had protected the medical shipments and slaughtered some 120 of the enforcers that they had sent to take it.
In retaliation, they had begun a campaign of terror all over the state.
In order to do something about it was why I was briefing the secretary of defense on exactly what we were going to do in response.
"Maybe if I had let the drugs go?" I lemented.
"We both know that it wouldn't have been an option." Morgan attempted to reassure me. It didn't help, but I appreciated the sentiment nonetheless.
I leaned back in my chair as the Secretary of Defense began the briefing.
"Gentlemen. We have a situation.
As you know, the Southern Dragons are hurting what with their failed attempt on the cargo shipment. Unfortunately that means that they're also retaliating and they've called up every militia wackjob from Florida to maine to California."
He clicked a button in the projector showing a map of the United States with colored in areas showing conflict zones.
-------------------------------------------
Guarding the Commander's kids was generally something that was difficult. It was always necessary to make sure that the kids were not obviously being protected so much. The commander had made it clear that if anyone was going to be doing the smothering, it was her, and that was generally going to be the mothering kind. That said, it was necessary to make sure to protect the kids as much as possible while also allowing them to make friends, so if that meant compromising somewhat, then it couldn't be helped.
The kids' status as the kids of a powerful alien generally distanced them enough, but with a little time and effort, they managed to close the gap and endear themselves to their peers and teachers. A little self defense training also allowed them to not have a bodyguard walking around.
That said, when a group of cars pulled up in front of the school and unloaded fourteen of hillbillies with automatic weapons, the snipers had their chance to shine.
Every sniper on duty within range fired once. Normally there wouldn't be enough snipers to get away with simply firing one shot, but when there were 38 snipers, once per sniper was pretty much all that was needed.
-------------------------------------------
"They tried attacking all of the population centers through things like mass shootings and bombings. The post office managed to intercept all of the letter bombs. They've basically turned all of America against them in one fell swoop. We've got lines at recruiting stations stretching around the block and we've been turning away applicants because we literally don't have enough guns to arm them all."
The SecDef clicked the button again and the screen changed to an animation showing the same zones with little icons moving about, the blue icons showing the government pushing back and knocking down red icons which showed the militias.
"So far, California has managed to exterminate most of theirs and we're making progress across much of the union. Additionally, we've managed to repulse many of the attacks on the major population centers in the south. Unfortunately the deep south countryside is still a mess of insurgents."
He clicked the button again and the screen shifted to a series of portraits and names. Incidentally I took a sip of my coffee.
"Fortunately, the FBI with the help of Philadelphia station managed to identify the some of the leadership holding the movement together. A raid by delta force managed to retrieve their operations playbook so we'll be able to move private security forces discretely between attack sites."
Well it doesn't look like I'm getting any sleep.
-------------------------------------------
[Washington DC, Ramble family home, USA]
It takes a lot of food to feed 15 people, but due to the family wealth, the Ramble family was never hurting for food, even though the matriarch had made it clear that she wasn't going to be using the protocrafter for food. Vladimir, Hiroki, and Thrush Ramble slaved away in the kitchen, preparing a veritable feast which would last the family basically one day.
The cellular phone sitting on the table rang out the tone for an inbound text message and Vladimir picked it up after putting down a knife he was using to dice onions. He looked at it and sighed.
"What's up?" Thrush asked from over by the stove.
"Mom's gonna be out late. Militia just launched another string of attacks so she's gotta coordinate the response."
"Man, I would not want to be Militia right now. You know how she feels about being an absentee parent." Hiroki responded.
"Well, it's not like she is. It's just been the last few weeks and, not gonna lie, I'm surprised she finds the time to come back home at all. How long until everyone gets home again?"
Thrush checked his watch.
"Paintball closes at six so about thirty minutes ish?"
Since my actions were mostly constrained by the government, which for the most part I ignored, I was able to focus my efforts elsewhere while my kids were going to school, like for instance helping out those Windsor people in what used to be england.
The USN also decided to come to me for my assistance in building a new carrier. While I stated that I would have to limit my help to simplify the construction side of things and that all of the heavy lifting would have to come from human personnel, they thought it would be fine.
With some sort of civilization finally coming back to Australia and Africa, I felt it prudent to get some sort of industries going again, and deployed several engineering battalions to set up and get car factories up and running again, employing locals and bringing some sort of industrialization back to the areas.
The very first model was something which could be made quickly and cheaply with only intermittent shipments of raw materials and slightly more fiddly bits from elsewhere like the US. A five door hatchback with a naturally aspirated, air cooled, four stroke, flat 2 diesel engine simple enough to be maintained and worked on by a child with mild to moderate down syndrome yet "powerful" enough to drive at least short distances on road, in town in a reasonable time frame. It featured driver and passenger side airbags, fiberglass body, side mirrors, dimmable rear view mirror (two sided, one side normal the other dimmed) a single 1000 lumen LED headlight, a 3 speed manual transmission, air filter and carburetor. It was dirt cheap, mass producible and too weak to use in combat by virtue of having a 0 to 60 of never.
After extensive testing and review, the perceptions seemed to be separated based on area.
America - hate
Japan - hate
Swizerland - hate
Britain - mixed
Russia - mixed
Australia - love
Africa - love
Seemed about right for what I was going for. I called it the Bison. That said, it was even affordable for the rural poor and sold well in the rural parts of the countryside where cars needed to be simple to work on, mechanically reliable, easy to maintain, fuel efficient, and capable of carrying some people while also being inexpensive.
Another design was a basic motor scooter design which was also dirt cheap, mechanically reliable, easy to maintain and fuel efficient. The Water Buffalo. It was a basic economy motor vehicle boasting a naturally aspirated, air cooled, four stroke, single cylinder engine. It was also gaining some traction in the countryside as well.
Speaking of the countryside.
-------------------------------------------
The modified Pave Low touched down on a small municipal airport in rural Alabama with a load of medical supplies where a small group of state guard was present to receive it, along with a few extra people as well. I rode in one of the passenger seats and stepped out with my contingent of bodyguards.
Two plain clothed Delta operators had opted to accompany me on the trip delivering medical supplies to the interior United States in addition to six of my own counter terrorism operatives. As the cargo ramp lowered, I was greeted by the sight of eight Alabama state guard, unarmed, and sixteen other men in vaguely military looking getup, armed.
Militias had been running rampant all over the place, especially where the grasp of the US government and the local state and county governments were thin. Previously the militias hadn't actually been crazy enough to attack actual military personnel, but evidently they were going to do things a little bit differently. It seems someone might have gotten their hands on the manifest for this shipment and reported that there was going to be a large amount of prescription opioids coming in along with the other medical supplies.
A man toting an submachine gun over his shoulder and wearing military equipment strolled up to me and my contingent.
"Well little missy. Let's get to the point. We know you're packing medical supplies and a lot of drugs. Hand em over."
Well he isn't beating around the bush at all is he?
"Excuse me sir? But I didn't get your name. You would be?"
"Judge Forester, of the Southern Dragons. We control this bit, now hand over your cargo and we might not kill you."
Yeah, there's definitely no walking away from this sort of confrontation. The Southern Dragons, though not as powerful as say, Immortan Joe, were a group of anti-government racist wackjobs who had sprung up after the great war when Washington had been reorganizing everything. While many militias had sprung up and attempted to organize, the Southern Dragons had taken the opportunity to slaughter their way through bewildered militia groups to add other similar minded thugs.
The state government had organized the rest of the militias into the state guard forces, but by then it was too late to stop the Dragons from doing what they wanted.
"Look. I'm sure we can work this out. You're after the prescription opioids right? I'll sort them out and give them to you. If we do that. Will you let us go on our way?"
I asked, attempting to avert the bloodshed.
"Heh? I don't think so. You might try something funny. No, you're gonna hand all of it over right now and we'll be doing what we please with it."
"Sir. Please, there are many people who need these medical supplies."
He sneered at me and brought around his Tompson.
"People needing medical supplies? Well here's what I think about your stalling." He turned around and opened fire on one of the State Guardsmen. The poor man was filled with bullets as his friends watched horrified and fearful that they would be next.
Once he had dumped all 30 rounds, he turned back.
"Now get moving before we"
"Yeah fuck this. Kill em all!"
"What the" He didn't exactly get that far before my M1911 had already been unholstered and shoved into his mouth. I pulled the trigger and grabbed the from his hands before it fell to the ground. A brief dusting of nanites ensured that it was in perfect working order rather than whatever passed for decent enough for the militia members.
When morgan had told me to deliver the medical supplies, I'm pretty sure he didn't mean for me to kill more people, but what exactly was I gonna do? Eh, he'd understand.
The two delta force operators readied their own Folding Machine Guns and went to work, rushing toward the line of State Guards and eliminating all of the Militias who were attempting to figure out what the hell was going on before they could open up on the rest of their captives.
Meanwhile, the counter terror operative who were already holding their weapons, flipped the safety off of their M4s and began laying down steady bursts of fire into the assorted assembled militia men. The Delta guys pushed the state guard to the ground and out of the way of the firefight before they continued to trade bullets with the assorted rednecks.
I opted to work my way over and began tending to the various state guardsmen.
"Think you guys can fight?" I asked what appeared to be the leader.
"Hell yeah I can. You're that alien gal right? How many guys do you got?" He asked as he took the submachine gun offered to him.
"Well this was supposed to be just a drop and go, but I've got a few more choppers coming so we'll have chopper gunners watching us."
He nodded and rushed to join the fight, making a good accounting of himself.
The battle was over after only a few minutes, during which the militia had been absolutely demolished. What a headache.
"Everybody check your ammo and start digging in. There are a lot of people depending on these supplies, I am not taking off with a full chopper."
-------------------------------------------
"Hey dude, I heard your mom got arrested."
"She didn't get arrested."
"Well she's in trouble for something. I heard on the news."
"Yeah, she's gonna get interrogated about that incident."
-------------------------------------------
[United States, Montgomery Alabama]
Eight deactivated letter bombs thunked onto the evidence table in front of the local postmaster commandant as several postal police men brought in more and more evidence.
"So, Jackson. You think this might be in response to the incident?" He asked with a raised eyebrow.
The postal police analyst nodded.
"No doubt about it. The Dragons lost a lot of people in that fight, most of them veterans, so they're gonna be out for blood."
"Well, at least we managed to catch most of this. Who kno"
There was a massive rumbling and what felt like a small earthquake. As the inspection room was located in the middle of the building behind several layers of armor, all the better to contain any blasts, there wasn't any damage, but the shaking was still quite noticable. One of the letter bombs almost fell off the table but the postmaster commandant managed to catch it.
Many of the people in the room readied their personal weapons and began looking around.
"What the hell was that?"
Suddenly somebody burst into the room.
"Sir! There's been a massive blast near the Capitol building. It's bad sir!"
-------------------------------------------
[Pentagon, Washington DC]
I'm not unfamiliar with the concept of innocent lives being lost as a result of my actions. The wastelands of Australia still weren't a nice place especially with regional warlords still trying to hold onto their power and Somalia still had largely the same problem despite my often extreme displays of force. It wasn't until the recent bombing that those innocent lives had been american though, and that made it worse for me.
In trying to defend the medical supply shipment, I had lost four men, one dead, 3 injured. Using a protect suit and Mg-42 as well as the help of everybody else, I had protected the medical shipments and slaughtered some 120 of the enforcers that they had sent to take it.
In retaliation, they had begun a campaign of terror all over the state.
In order to do something about it was why I was briefing the secretary of defense on exactly what we were going to do in response.
"Maybe if I had let the drugs go?" I lemented.
"We both know that it wouldn't have been an option." Morgan attempted to reassure me. It didn't help, but I appreciated the sentiment nonetheless.
I leaned back in my chair as the Secretary of Defense began the briefing.
"Gentlemen. We have a situation.
As you know, the Southern Dragons are hurting what with their failed attempt on the cargo shipment. Unfortunately that means that they're also retaliating and they've called up every militia wackjob from Florida to maine to California."
He clicked a button in the projector showing a map of the United States with colored in areas showing conflict zones.
-------------------------------------------
Guarding the Commander's kids was generally something that was difficult. It was always necessary to make sure that the kids were not obviously being protected so much. The commander had made it clear that if anyone was going to be doing the smothering, it was her, and that was generally going to be the mothering kind. That said, it was necessary to make sure to protect the kids as much as possible while also allowing them to make friends, so if that meant compromising somewhat, then it couldn't be helped.
The kids' status as the kids of a powerful alien generally distanced them enough, but with a little time and effort, they managed to close the gap and endear themselves to their peers and teachers. A little self defense training also allowed them to not have a bodyguard walking around.
That said, when a group of cars pulled up in front of the school and unloaded fourteen of hillbillies with automatic weapons, the snipers had their chance to shine.
Every sniper on duty within range fired once. Normally there wouldn't be enough snipers to get away with simply firing one shot, but when there were 38 snipers, once per sniper was pretty much all that was needed.
-------------------------------------------
"They tried attacking all of the population centers through things like mass shootings and bombings. The post office managed to intercept all of the letter bombs. They've basically turned all of America against them in one fell swoop. We've got lines at recruiting stations stretching around the block and we've been turning away applicants because we literally don't have enough guns to arm them all."
The SecDef clicked the button again and the screen changed to an animation showing the same zones with little icons moving about, the blue icons showing the government pushing back and knocking down red icons which showed the militias.
"So far, California has managed to exterminate most of theirs and we're making progress across much of the union. Additionally, we've managed to repulse many of the attacks on the major population centers in the south. Unfortunately the deep south countryside is still a mess of insurgents."
He clicked the button again and the screen shifted to a series of portraits and names. Incidentally I took a sip of my coffee.
"Fortunately, the FBI with the help of Philadelphia station managed to identify the some of the leadership holding the movement together. A raid by delta force managed to retrieve their operations playbook so we'll be able to move private security forces discretely between attack sites."
Well it doesn't look like I'm getting any sleep.
-------------------------------------------
[Washington DC, Ramble family home, USA]
It takes a lot of food to feed 15 people, but due to the family wealth, the Ramble family was never hurting for food, even though the matriarch had made it clear that she wasn't going to be using the protocrafter for food. Vladimir, Hiroki, and Thrush Ramble slaved away in the kitchen, preparing a veritable feast which would last the family basically one day.
The cellular phone sitting on the table rang out the tone for an inbound text message and Vladimir picked it up after putting down a knife he was using to dice onions. He looked at it and sighed.
"What's up?" Thrush asked from over by the stove.
"Mom's gonna be out late. Militia just launched another string of attacks so she's gotta coordinate the response."
"Man, I would not want to be Militia right now. You know how she feels about being an absentee parent." Hiroki responded.
"Well, it's not like she is. It's just been the last few weeks and, not gonna lie, I'm surprised she finds the time to come back home at all. How long until everyone gets home again?"
Thrush checked his watch.
"Paintball closes at six so about thirty minutes ish?"
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