Makes you wonder about PBS doesn’t it…
And where were/are the calls for this for the Antifa/BLM activists who tried to burn courthouses and police cars with officers inside to be on the No Fly List? Just asking…
Makes you wonder about PBS doesn’t it…
And where were/are the calls for this for the Antifa/BLM activists who tried to burn courthouses and police cars with officers inside to be on the No Fly List? Just asking…
The usual caveats- Comments/recommendations appreciated!
Boykin touched down gently at the GalPat compound at White Beach just before thirteen. Fargo got up as she said, “Ramp going down. You have people meeting you.” He picked up his bag and rifle case and walked to the ramp. When it touched the ground, he was surprised to see Colonel Keads, Major Santos, and Senior Sergeant Grayson standing there.
He stepped off the ramp and nodded to the colonel. “Sir, I…need to turn myself in to—”
Keads interrupted him, “Fargo, Ethan, we can accept you here. We can also accept your weapon and hold it for the courts. Grayson can give you an entrance physical, and we have a small brig here. It’s not plush, but it’s probably better than the pit downtown, which is where they would probably throw you.”
Fargo nodded. “Thank you. Is this…going to cause you trouble?”
The colonel grinned. “Probably. But we are also certified law enforcement on this planet, regardless of what Klynton et al want to happen.” Turning to the major he said, “Major, please notify White Beach security that Mr. Fargo has turned himself and his weapon in to us as of,” he checked his wrist comp, “Thirteen eleven this day, and we will maintain custody, per GalPat regulations.”
Santos smiled. “Aye, aye, sir!” He turned and walked back into the GalPat offices.
Grayson said, “If you’ll come with me, Captain?”
Fargo followed Grayson to the small office he had and sat down. Grayson scanned him then pulled out an extractor. “Need some blood. Gotta make sure you’re clean.” He offered his left arm and Grayson set the extractor in the crook of his elbow. “Won’t take but a second.” There was a ding and he added, “All done.” Why don’t you go to the mess and grab something to eat while I get all this crap entered.”
“I…don’t I need an escort?”
“For what, Captain? Ain’t like you’re going anywhere. You turned yourself in, remember?”
Shaking his head, Fargo got up and went down to the mess, grabbed a sandwich and a bulb of coffee, ate quickly, and returned to Grayson’s office. “Now what?”
Looking at his wrist comp, he said, “Well, I figure we’ve got twenty segs before the local yokels show up to try to claim your body.” He got up. “Follow me, and we’ll go down to the brig. I’ll have to log you in and lock the door for now. You’ll have to stay there for a while.”
A couple of turns and Fargo was confused, having never been in this part of the building. Grayson stopped in front of a secure door and entered a code, the lock released, and he said, “And here we are. Your not quite palatial quarters, Captain.”
Fargo stepped in and noted a sparsely furnished room with two chairs and a desk, and two more doors at the back of the room. “Door on the left, Captain.” Pulling it open, Fargo saw a room with no windows, a single bed with a blanket and shipsuit lying on it, a desk and chair, and a fresher taking up the back wall. Walking in, he noted a small e-tainment screen on the wall by the door. Grayson tapped the e-tainment screen and said, “Grayson, Kelly, eight nine three Romeo Charlie six four eight. Activate system. Voice activation authorized, Fargo, Ethan. Captain, please state your name.”
There was a ting and the AI said, “Voice ID capture. Fargo, Ethan.”
“Okay, Captain, you’ve got all the standard e-tainment features, but comms is restricted. You can send and receive messages, but no vidcoms or calls off planet.” Glancing at his wrist comp again he said, “I’d better get back up front. One of us will be back later.”
Fargo sat down on the bed. “What about my wrist comp and datacomp?”
“Disabled. This area is a Faraday cage.” Grayson left and he heard the door click when it shut. He went to move the shipsuit and realized there was underwear and socks underneath it. Curious, he looked at the size and chuckled. All in my size. Did they know I…they had to know I was coming. Thank you, Nicole!
Two divs later, he heard the outer door click, then his door. Major Santos pulled the door open. “Mr. Fargo, there is someone here to see you. If you would step out here, please?”
He got up, came out into the bigger room, and saw a sweating roly-poly figure with a bad combover staring at him. That face…I’ve…
“I am Assistant Justicer Sayed Zubin. This…is most unusual, but at least you are captured. We…will be moving you to our facility. Have you arranged for a law giver?”
“No, I have not. I’ve never needed—”
Zubin grinned nastily. “You need one now. Oh, by the way, all your accounts are frozen. So, unless you can make some kind of deal or have family pay for a lawyer, we will provide one for you. Your trial will be next week.”
Fargo bowed his head. Sushma said take their law giver. “I will take the law giver provided.”
He sent out a probe and felt the satisfaction in Zubin’s mind at his response. Should I probe more? Probably not. At least Santos isn’t happy with him either.
“One will be sent to you as soon as you are in our custody.”
He decided to poke at Zubin. “What happens if I don’t get transferred? Don’t you still have to provide a law giver? Isn’t that my right by law?”
Zubin’s mouth fell open but nothing came out as he glared at Fargo. “One will be provided,” he finally said. Turning, he stomped out as Santos shook his head and followed. Fargo heard the outer lock click, but not the one to his room. Curious he went to the other door, but it was locked. Oh, well, it was worth a try. He walked back into his room and activated the e-tainment system. He found a newsie who was talking about how he was in custody and awaiting transfer to the planetary authorities. Well, that was quick. I wonder who leaked it?
A div later, Grayson was back with a cadaverous, bald man, with thick glasses. After he was duly logged in, Grayson stepped out of the main door, and they heard it lock behind him. The man pushed his glasses back up on his nose and dropped his data comp on the table. In a high voice, with perfect English enunciation, he said, “I am Viamal Nand. I have been appointed as your law giver to defend you against your charges. Please sit and tell me what this is about.”
Fargo cocked his head as he sat. “You are…not what I expected.” He probed lightly and felt nervousness and a strange calmness. Interesting conflict there. I’m going to let this run and not try to go any deeper. Don’t want to scare him away.
Nand smiled, showing brilliant white teeth. “That may be. I am a graduate of the New Bombay law school. I am fully accredited as a defender. Now about your…case.” He opened his data comp and Fargo saw a holo screen pop up between them. “Please start at…the beginning, if you would. May I record?”
Fargo nodded. “Why not. It’s not like this isn’t already documented.” He recapped the entire evolution from first sighting the liteflyer to himself, Jiri, and Adhit dropping into the canyon and finding the remains of the two people still in the liteflyer. He snapped his fingers, “And there was a civilian, Allen, who took all the data from our comps and my holo scope. He was some kind of…investigator, maybe air safety.”
“Was there anyone else there?”
“Um…a Major Palette, a couple of GalPat troops, and a female named Gann. Apparently her daughter was the pilot. And Mikhail Radovich. He’s head of TBT in this sector. He is also married to my sister in Rushing River.”
Nand took off his glasses and scratched his head. “This…does not make sense. If there is…data and…flight violation, there is no case. I must research and find the data analysis. Is there any other data that might support your defense?”
“They were supposed to take data from the security van on the mountain where we were installing the feeder.”
“Very good! I will go find these data files.” Nand put his glasses back on, shut off his data comp, and stood up. “How do I get out of here?”
Fargo chuckled and walked to the door. Knocking on it, he said, “Open up, Grayson, we’re done.” He heard the latch click and Grayson pulled the door open.
“Mr. Nand, if you’ll come with me, I’ll escort you out.”
“Thank you, sir. Mr. Fargo, I will be in contact. We do not have a lot of time.”
Nodding, Fargo said, “Thank you. I…just want this over with.” Nand walked out and he heard the door close and lock, then slumped back into the chair. That is one strange individual. And that accent! I don’t think he’s young, so maybe I have a chance. But how do I let Sushma know about him?
After another div, Colonel Keads opened the door. “Food?”
Fargo got up. “Yes, sir.”
“I’m afraid you’re limited to the mess, but it’s vat beef night. It’s usually edible,” he said with a smile.
They walked quietly down the hallway, each lost in their own thoughts. When they got to the mess, he was stunned to see Nicole sitting at a table. She shook her head slightly, and he and the colonel continued through the mess line. Once they had their meals, Fargo noticed the mess was almost empty. The colonel nodded toward Nicole and said softly, “Go ahead. Just no PDA.” He smiled as he sat at a table where he could see them and the entry.
Fargo went over and sat down across the table from her as she pulled a small box out and set it on the table. “Privacy shield. What has happened,” she asked.
“Got an appointed law giver, name is Viamal Nand. He’s not…young. I gave him as much as I could remember, and he seemed to know what he was doing. Can you…check him out?”
Nicole smiled brightly. “Of course. Sushma will be here tomorrow. I have arranged space for us to work. She is ostensibly in town to file paperwork for the Enclave, and I’m here shopping for the winery.”
She reached across the table, touched his hand, and looked hard at him. He finally picked up that she wanted him in her mind, and he projected, “Sorry, I’m…a little slow today. But I love you.”
“Love you too, you idiot. I will be the go between for you with Sushma, she doesn’t want to appear here until you actually go to court. Now eat, we don’t have long. The colonel told me they will move you to confinement in the courthouse at least a day ahead of the trial. There is nothing he can do about that. He also said that the only recorded visits will be those in your cell.”
“I’m thankful for that. It’s not…a bad cell. But there is a leak somewhere, because I was on the e-tainment within a half div of giving myself up to the Colonel. Maybe Sayed Zubin, he’s the assistant justicer that is going to try me. He’s…sleazy.”
“We’ll check him out too.” She took her hand back and said, “I better go now. The less contact anyone sees, the better. I will try to be here every day for at least one meal.”
Fargo smiled. “Only one meal?”
“I’m doing research with Sushma. I’m…using all my contacts.”
“Oh. Thank you.”
She squeezed his hand and he projected, “I love you. Thank you for supporting me!” She smiled sadly as she got up and walked out of the mess. He quickly finished his tray, not really tasting anything as he turned over what was going on in his head.
He was startled when the colonel said, “Are you finished?”
“Yes, sir. Ready to go back?”
“Afraid so. I just want you to know the folks here that know you all support you.”
Fargo got up, took the tray to the sonic and shoved it in. He walked back to the colonel and said, “I truly appreciate that, Colonel. I…didn’t get treated this way the last time I went through something like this.”
Keads growled, “That was because of politics. This…smells like the same thing to me.” Fargo shrugged as they walked back to the brig. Once he was ensconced in his room, he decided to hit the fresher and go to bed. Surprising himself, he dropped off to sleep almost immediately.
It was early afternoon when the major unlocked the door and admitted Nand. Fargo took one look and said, “Not good news?”
Nand shook his head sorrowfully. “Not good. Mr. Allen is…off planet and will be for three more weeks. His…files are locked, so I was only able to get the stills from the vids from Zubin. And the report…is missing things. Also, the investigation from Major…” He pushed his glasses up and slumped in the chair, starting his data comp. He fiddled with it for a second or two and the holo flipped where Fargo could read it. “It is not…in your favor. Please tell me when you want to advance the page.”
By the time Fargo had finished, he was seeing red, and Nand had physically backed away from the table. He finally said, “That…is bullshit. That is not what happened. The…both of them were dead before we ever got there. It’s all on Adhit’s data comp recording! And…Argghhhh! I can’t believe Colonel Cameron signed off on that piece of…” Fargo jumped up and started pacing back and forth as Nand cowered behind the table. Picking up on the fear radiating from Nand, he sat back down and looked calmly Nand in the face. “I’m not mad at you. I’m…angry about Palette’s BS investigation. This was nothing more than his attempting to curry favor with…Gann and Klynton. But Allen not being available is not…good. Without those vids, can you ask for…what is the word?”
Nand moved back up to the table. “A continuance? You want to wait?”
“Yes! Without Allen’s data…and that BS,” pointing to the holo screen, “I’m dead meat. I…what can we do?”
Nand touched the holo keyboard and flipped the screen. “I will file for a continuance until Mr. Allen returns. I…will talk to the colonel here about the report.”
Fargo shook his head. “Cameron is gone. Keads is the new colonel. I don’t know if he will be any help. What about getting the raw footage from my gun?”
“The prosecution has it, I will request that data.” Nand packed up his data comp, walked to the door, and knocked. As it opened, he said, “I…will let you know if we are successful tomorrow.”
Fargo merely nodded as he walked out and the door locked behind him. Two divs later, he heard the doors unlock and Grayson stepped into the room. “Dinner, if you want to call it that, is served. I swear it’s something with tentacles.” He made a face adding, “I think tonight’s gonna be sandwich night.”
Swinging his feet off the bed, Fargo slipped on his boots. “Food is fuel. One eats to maintain the ability to function.”
He stood up and followed Grayson out of the rooms as Grayson mumbled, “That shit ain’t food. I don’t want to have to fight it to eat it.”
“Is the colonel here?”
“Nah, he and the major are conducting some training with…I think the militia company down south. The warrant flew them out early this morning.”
When he got to the mess, he was disappointed that Nicole wasn’t there. Dammit, I really need to let her know what is going on. He went through the serving line behind Grayson and took one look at the entrée, then followed him to the sandwich bar. “Didn’t look appetizing, did it, Captain?”
Fargo grinned. “Well, I was all set to try it, til I saw it move…” Grayson’s head snapped around as he looked back at the serving line. He saw Nicole walk in and look around and waved to her.
She bypassed the serving line quickly and joined them at the bar, mumbling, “Not doing octopus. They can’t get it right.”
Grayson smiled at her. “See, I told you it had tentacles, Captain!” His sandwich popped out and he went, “I’ll be over by the door.” He took the tray and walked over to the last table by the door as Fargo’s sandwich tray came out.
Nicole said sotto voce, “Sit where he can see both you and the door.”
He picked up his tray and walked over to a table, cocking his head at it, and Nicole nodded. He sat down facing Grayson and sipped the bulb that came with the sandwich. They…this is…the most pathetic attempt at coffee I’ve ever tasted! He took a bite of the sandwich as Nicole sat down with her back to Grayson reaching across the table. He touched her hand and projected, “There is a problem—”
Her thought overrode him, “Captain Jace is not…happy. He said he will get involved. I don’t know what he means by that, but…I’m worried.”
“Tell him I need evidence. Allen is off planet and his data account is locked, so there is no vid from Adhit’s data comp or my holoscope. And that fuck, Palette, lied on his investigative report. I can’t believe Cameron signed off on it…wait a second! Cameron’s signature wasn’t on it! Nand is going to ask for a…continuance until Allen is back on planet.” He squeezed her hand. “I love you. And I hate this…mess.”
She smiled. “I love you, too. We will get through this. Now eat!”
“Yes, dear.” He smiled and said, “I have got to get something else to drink. This…coffee is undrinkable.”
“Would you get me a nearapple cobbler if they have it, please?”
“Certainly.” Getting up, he went over and punched up a fizzy drink then went back to the serving line. Seeing one cobbler, he picked it up, collected his drink, and carried them back to the table. Nicole had finished her sandwich and smiled as he set the cobbler in front of her.
Picking up her fork, she dug in with relish. “It’s good!” More softly she said, “Nand is a fairly new law giver. He grew up on New Bombay and…he can’t take life extension or regen treatments. He’s almost forty. He left because he had no future there and this was about as far away as he could get. Apparently, his life expectancy is only another twenty or thirty years. I…feel sorry for him.”
She touched his hand again, and he was surprised to receive a thought from her, “Sushma said to tell you that Ton’Skel is doing well and no problem at home.”
“No problem? That doesn’t make sense. He’s…unless most of the Enclave don’t know he’s there.”
“I don’t know, that’s just what she said. Tomorrow, see if you can be here around thirteen.”
Fargo glanced up as Grayson walked over, “Evening Chief Sergeant, bout that time, Captain.”
“I’m done.” He got up touching her on the shoulder. “Love you, I’ll be here tomorrow.”
“Love you.” She smiled up at him. Taking his tray to the sonics, he followed Grayson back to the cell and heard the locks click home. Hitting the fresher, he crawled into bed, his mind a whirl. What is Jace going to do? What can he do? And what is going on with Ton? He flipped and flopped for a div, then finally fell into a restless sleep, punctuated by nightmares of his first trial.
Nand came in just after nine, escorted by the major. “Mr. Fargo, I have not good news. The…court will not countenance a continuation. You will be tried in five days and they will not give me access to your weapon. I…do not know what to do,” he said plaintively.
Fargo sucked his lip as he stood there. “Well, we go with what we have. Have you spoken to the colonel?”
Nand ducked his head, almost losing his glasses. “Not yet, I have…requested, but have not heard back.”
“See if you can dig up anything on Gann and Patterson. There has to be a tie in somewhere there, otherwise they wouldn’t both be suing me.”
“This I will do.” He backed out of the room and Fargo heard the doors lock.
He paced restlessly, then had a thought. Going to the e-tainment center, he called up the internal comms list. Sure enough, the colonel was listed. He asked for an audio connect and was rewarded with a connecting icon. Moments later, a feminine voice answered, “Colonel Keads’ office, may I help you?”
Fargo remembered him saying that Santos’ wife was the new executive secretary. “Mrs. Santos, this is…Mr. Fargo, I need to speak to the colonel if he is available.”
“I’m sorry, sir. He’s not due back until twelve. He is in a meeting at the president’s office.”
“Thank you, would you please let him know I need to speak with him?”
“I certainly will,” she said brightly.
He lay down on the bed and dropped off to sleep. The sound of the locks releasing woke him up and he groaned as he sat up. Colone Keads pulled the door open. “Are you alright?” he asked, concern in his voice.
Fargo threw up his hands. “Not really. I’m getting…rocketed here, just like the Corps did me. Did you see the investigative report Palette submitted to the administration?”
Keads looked down at him, then replied, “Not that I remember. Cameron would have signed off on it.”
Fargo’s head jerked up. “But…what the law giver showed me yesterday only had Palette’s signature on it, not Cameron’s.”
Keads said decisively, “Come with me. We can pull up the one he filed with us, I know Cameron chopped that one, because I remember them discussing it at a staff meeting.”
Fifteen segs later, Fargo was reading a hard copy of Palette’s report that Cameron had signed and filed with GalPat. “This…is significantly different than what I was shown yesterday. This one is nearweasel worded all to hell and gone, but it doesn’t say we were responsible.”
Keads looked up from his holo screen. “What? That’s…shit…let me check something.” A few moments later, the colonel pushed back from the desk and rubbed his face with both hands. “This report was never forwarded. I knew Palette was sucking up to the administration, but I can’t…” He stopped and sighed. “Who is your law giver? I…need to see a copy of what he has.”
“Viamal Nand, but I don’t know how to get in touch with him.”
The colonel touched his comm unit. “Mrs. Santos, please contact Mr. Viamal Nand and request his presence as soon as possible. I spell—”
For those wanting the western, it’s out to the beta readers now. 🙂
We all need that right now…
Having plans sounds like a good idea until you have to put on clothes and leave the house.
It’s weird being the same age as old people.
When I was a kid I wanted to be older…this is not what I expected.
Life is like a helicopter. I don’t know how to operate a helicopter.
Chocolate is God’s way of telling us he likes us a little bit chubby.
It’s probably my age that tricks people into thinking I’m an adult.
Marriage Counselor: Your wife says you never buy her flowers. Is that true?
Him: To be honest, I never knew she sold flowers.
Never sing in the shower! Singing leads to dancing, dancing leads to slipping, and slipping leads to paramedics seeing you naked. So remember…Don’t sing!
My wife asked me to take her to one of those restaurants where they make the food right in front of you. So I took her to Subway and that’s how the fight started.
During the middle ages they celebrated the end of the plague with wine and orgies. Does anyone know if there is anything planned when this one ends?
I don’t think the therapist is supposed to say “wow,” that many times in your first session but here we are…
I see people about my age mountain climbing; I feel good getting my leg through my underwear without losing my balance.
We can all agree that in 2015 not a single person got the answer correct to, ‘Where do you see yourself 5 years from now?’
So if a cow doesn’t produce milk, is it a milk dud or an udder failure?
If you can’t think of a word say “I forgot the English word for it.” That way people will think you’re bilingual instead of an idiot.
I’m at a place in my life where errands are starting to count as going out.
Coronacoaster noun: the ups and downs of a pandemic. One day you’re loving your bubble, doing work outs, baking banana bread and going for long walks and the next you’re crying, drinking gin for breakfast and missing people you don’t even like.
I’m at that age where my mind still thinks I’m 29, my humor suggests I’m 12, while my body mostly keeps asking if I’m sure I’m not dead yet.
Don’t be worried about your smartphone or TV spying on you. Your vacuum cleaner has been collecting dirt on you for years.
I’m getting tired of being part of a major historical event.
I don’t always go the extra mile, but when I do it’s because I missed my exit.
How many of us have looked around our family reunion and thought “Well aren’t we just two clowns short of a circus?”
At what point can we just start using 2020 as profanity? As in: “That’s a load of 2020.” or “What in the 2020.” or “abso-2020-lutely.”
You don’t realize how old you are until you sit on the floor and then try to get back up.
We all get heavier as we get older, because there’s a lot more information in our heads. That’s my story and I’m sticking to it.
From Tom Kratman, LTC retired, USA and a practicing lawyer and author…
He raises some interesting questions and points out some things I think a lot of people missed. And yes, people will say this is ‘conspiracy theory’… So be it…
Tom Kratman sends:
Widest possible sharing authorized and encouraged; share via copy and paste. Be sure to include my name, so the left can understand I am not afraid of them and perfectly willing, on my own ticket, to fight:
So why, after all this, do so many of us still believe the election was stolen?
In the first place, there are two things we mean by “the election was stolen.” They’re mutually reinforcing, yes, but they’re not the same. The first of these is via the influence of media and social media. It was not illegal for them to have been Biden’s campaign, but they were Biden’s campaign. What that means, in practice, is that they used their privileges under the first amendment to violate the intent of the first amendment. I say “privileges,” by the way, rather than “rights” because by their conduct they have undermined the first amendment to the point we can calmly consider killing it, as regards the media, as so many lefties want it to be killed for the common citizenry. It no longer serves its purpose.
The second factor is our belief that actual spurious ballots were introduced into the system by both mailing in and other means. And the numbers were not even that large; Trump “lost” by about twelve thousand in Georgia, eighty thousand in Pennsylvania, and under twenty-one thousand in Wisconsin. Let’s not pretend that those were particularly difficult numbers to have illegally come up with.
But there’s not a shred of evidence…the courts…
Look, friends, we live in the age of MiniTru and Comrade Ogilvy. We have precisely zero sources of reliable direct information. Don’t believe me?
Answer these questions:
And, if you don’t know the answers to these, ask yourself why you don’t?
Moreover, why did Facebook and other social media suppress any notion of election fraud? One doesn’t need to suppress a lie; “a lie will not stand.” There’s only benefit in suppressing “inconvenient truths” (to steal another fraudulent Democrat meme).
Of course, when you control the media, a lie most certainly WILL stand…if it’s your lie.
Instead, we are thrown back on secondary increments of data, because the left isn’t clever enough – well, not YET, anyway – to have doctored those. (“Call for Comrade Ogilvy from Democratic Party Headquarters! Comrade Ogilvy please pick up the red phone in the lobby…”)
Among the secondary sources of information are:
The railroading of secession through various Democrat-run southern states by careful selection of those who would be allowed into the secession conventions.
“Vote often and early for James Michael Curley.”
The Battle of Athens and the E. H. Crump (Democratic Party) political machine.
Cook Country, which is to say, Chicago, 1960.
Princess Nudelman, the dead goldfish (yes, I know the fish didn’t cast a vote. What’s important is that someone TRIED).
Look at the heritage.org election fraud map.
In short, election fraud is so completely a part of the Democratic Party and the left, more generally, and has been for so long, that it would only be remarkable if there were a close election where there wasn’t any. We expect it. If we can’t easily see it, we expect it to be only because it’s a little better hidden than usual.
The Democratic Party is and always has been a party of corruption, heavy on power, short of or bereft of principle. The only difference between it and any given sub-Saharan African kleptocracy is in the shade of skin.
But what about the courts?
No, wait; you didn’t know that the legal profession is up there – or down there – with college sociology departments for its tendency to lean left? You didn’t know that coming up with direct evidence is often quite difficult? Investigations take years to uncover single instances of discrete bank fraud; we’re expected to find evidence of massive voter fraud quickly? See below.
Then, too, one might well wonder just which John Roberts it was that visited Epstein’s pedophile island. Epstein didn’t waste his efforts on nobodies, you know; oh, no, he turned over the use of his harem of barely post-pubescent teens to the already powerful and the up and – you should pardon the expression – comers.
I don’t know that it was him. I will not insist it was him. I want to see an honest investigation into whether or not it was him.
Of course, to be more fair than he probably deserves, Roberts probably does think he’s heading off a civil war. He’s wrong, of course, as Roger Taney was before him; he is bringing the war closer and ensuring it will be worse.
Difficult to come up with evidence? Enter the mail-in ballot, a positive Godsend for would be election fraudsters. Just think about what’s required to prove effective fraud on that scale. It’s not the mere one hundred and thirteen thousand vote that allegedly swung things in Wisconsin, Pennsylvania, and Georgia.
We’re not talking here about railroading Jefferson Washington Lincoln III, the small-time dope dealer and occasional fence. Oh, no; this is a much more – an infinitely more – difficult problem.
For one thing, the investigators would have to scrub the voting rolls themselves. Then they’d also have to scrub the obituary columns and social security death register for the last century or so…or three. Add in the birth and naturalization records. They’d have to match not just the one hundred and thirteen thousand votes in question, but every mail in ballot AND every other ballot too. (No, the mere likelihood of most of the fraud coming via mail does not rule out more traditional methods.) And they’d have to do all this in a country that has an automatic revulsion against keeping and consolidating those very kinds of records, and often where the government in charge of the states in question will interpose every possible obstacle. And all of that with MiniTru ensuring that no adverse information ever sees the light of day.
Has anyone put that kind of effort into the investigation? No, they have not. Hence, with the best will in the world, the courts had not enough to work with. Hence, none of the investigations can be said to be valid. No, none of them. Neither can any of the court decisions, even where legally sound – and they were not all legally sound; Roberts, you swine, I’m looking at you – are dispositive, either.
So forget it; the information coming from the media is doctored and dishonest, with anything contrary studiously suppressed. The investigations were trash. The court’s refusal to hear cases prejudiced where not just outright unconstitutional.
Now some ignorant toad is going to scream, “Conspiracy loons! Conspiracy theory!”
Not on your life. People are not competent to conspire at this level, while Biden, cowering in his basement, certainly wasn’t. No, no; this is not a conspiracy but a consensus or, rather, several of them. A consensus exists when similar people, with similar values, backgrounds, and educations, see similar issues and problems, similarly, and come up with similar programs and solutions. A consensus doesn’t rule out conspiracy (“Adam, should we introduce spurious bit of bullshit X as people’s exhibit A, for the impeachment trial?”) but doesn’t depend on it either. It was sufficient in this case for enough middle and lower party workers and sundry activists, plus the media and the vile and filthy denationalized rich to a) believe that the only legitimate directions for the United States to go were further left, more globalist, less nationalist, more feminist, less nativist, etc., b) to recognize the promise of mail-in ballots, c) to deny for themselves that any principle is more important that continuing to move in those directions, and d) a resolve to do it, each in his or her or s/h/its individual capacity. No, Facebook did not conspire with Twitter; there was no need. No, X judge didn’t conspire with the Democratic Party; there was no need. No, Buffet and Bezos and Billzebub Gates didn’t conspire with Soros; there was no need. There was no need because they share a consensus.
And, so, no; we do not have any faith in the election results. Nor will we have, especially since we are quite certain that election fraud is now the way of the future. Soon to be President Harris (does anyone, anyone at all, have any illusions about that? Did anyone, ever? I have no more doubt of it than I have that she gives the best blowjob in the world, if the payoff is right) will never be considered legitimate. And she, and we, can expect everything from civil disobedience to nullification to riot to resistance in arms until the war commences. (Bet you didn’t know that the South was not the only region the states of which engaged in nullification.)
But I think it’s coming. Pandora’s Box has been opened and I don’t believe the Dems have the capability to get it closed…
Twitter has permanently suspended Trump’s accounts…
Facebork is probably going to do the same…
And Simon & Schuster is canceling Sen. Josh Hawley’s forthcoming book because of the violent riots on Capitol Hill, the company announced on Thursday, below.
“As a publisher it will always be our mission to amplify a variety of voices and viewpoints: at the same time we take seriously our larger public responsibility as citizens, and cannot support Senator Hawley after his role in what became a dangerous threat to our democracy and freedom.”
We had a good run, but all good things must end…
The media quote that just pissed me off was, “This riot is the fault of the President and those he sent.” Really?
Trump’s actual statement- “This is wrong and not who we are. Be peaceful and use your 1st Amendment rights, but don’t start acting like the other side. We have a country to save and this doesn’t help anyone.”
I can’t help but think of these words…
The usual caveats apply… Comments/recommendations appreciated!
Colonel Keads lounged across two of the seats in the cargo bay as they took off from Rushing River. “Major Santos is a logistics type. He’s been on back to back field tours, and this is his first planetside duty. And he actually scammed GalPat to bring his wife along. She’s my GP secretary, and a damn good one from what I’ve seen so far, so he’s in my good graces…for now.” Fargo felt a tinge of pride from Santos and a thread of worry. He’s gotta be nervous. First time on the road with a new boss is…always hard.
Santos had the grace to color slightly, then nodded. Fargo said, “Welcome to the nut house.”
Keads held up his hand. “Don’t disabuse him of how good he has it just yet, Captain. We started early this morning, so you are actually the fourth stop. We’ve also been inspecting the militia units.”
Santos snorted. “Barely capable, minimally to completely untrained, no standardized equipment—” Oh, that got him going! Apparently he’s as unimpressed with the other companies as we are. Maybe there is hope for him. And he’s gotta be better than Palette.
Keads smiled. “Courtesy of the person you relieved. You’re going to get to fix it.” He pointed to Nicole, “The chief sergeant there is worth her weight in gold. I’d put her back on active duty in a heartbeat, if I thought either she or the good captain wouldn’t slit my throat for doing it. She’s better than our entire intel section. You have questions, you call her.”
Startled, Santos almost came to attention. “Yes, Sir!”
Nicole smiled and touched her wrist comp, “Just squirted my info to you, sir.”
Smiling, the colonel said, “OneSvel, the only Taurasian symbiote pair on Hunter, is an excellent medic and he’s been treating the folks in the Enclave since he got here. Most of the time, Taurasians are sifters, but some of them do go into the medical side.”
OneSvel’s GalTrans twittered, “Actually, there are two of us here now Colonel. NasTess is a doctor and was headed to its residency when their ship was taken. They functioned as the sole medical provider on Eros.”
“Oh, they stayed? I wasn’t aware of that. Do they have plans to take up their residency?”
“They are discussing that with Doc Grant. He is, as you know, fully qualified to proctor them and may take them as a field residency, which would meet their training requirements.”
“Interesting. That could be a benefit to Hunter in the long run.”
Boykin came over the PA. “Five segs out. Fasten your seatbelts, stow your tray tables, and raise your seatbacks.” Santos looked up at the overhead as the others snickered. “And somebody wake up Grayson.”
OneSvel extended a pseudopod and tapped Grayson’s boot, startling him awake. “Whut?” He yawned. “Are we there yet?” He stretched and sat up straight, fastened his seatbelt and looked around.
Fargo shook his head. “I swear, if I tried to sleep like that, I’d need a crane to get up.” The shuttle started bumping in the local turbulence and Fargo reached over, taking Nicole’s hand. “Almost there.”
Santos eyebrows went up at that, but he didn’t say anything. Purposely looking anywhere but at the two of them. Boykin brought them to a soft landing and deployed the aft hatch as the colonel and major led them off the shuttle.
Keads started chuckling as they got to the bottom of the ramp. “Captain, I think somebody wants to report to you.” He gestured at the company formed up next to the pad, Jiri standing at attention in front of the men.
Fargo stepped off the ramp and Nicole followed him as he marched up to Jiri. “Captain, the company is formed. We are standing by for inspection.” He saluted and Fargo returned it.
“Thank you. Take your position.” Turning, he faced the colonel and saluted. “Sir, the company is formed and awaits your inspection.”
Keads stepped off the ramp, followed by Santos and said, “Tell those clowns to drop their stealth. They’re good, but I can still see the heat waves.”
Fargo stifled a laugh. “Honor guard, drop stealth and return to formation!” Eight sets of armor dropped stealth and jumped simultaneously, landing at the rear of the formation as Santos goggled at the whole proceeding.
Colonel Keads walked up to him and projected his voice. “I don’t need to troop the line. It’s too damn cold and I don’t need to be dressed down. Let’s go somewhere warm. Dismiss the company.”
Fargo saluted and did an about face. “Dismissed!” Muster in the training spaces in five segs.”
Santos said wonderingly, “They’ve…they’ve got armor. But…how?”
As they walked toward the training spaces the colonel chuckled. “A bit more, shall we say, ready for inspection than the other companies aren’t they?”
Santos shook his head. “I…have trouble believing what I’m seeing. They…oh my deity…they’re all Ghorkas!”
Keads laugh started in his belly and erupted, startling Santos, Fargo, and Nicole. “You just now noticed that?” Kulbir came trotting up and Keads bear hugged him. “Kulbir was that stealthed armor your idea?”
“Just wanted to see if you were paying attention, Colonel. And congratulations on your promotion.”
Keads snorted. “Why did I even bother coming. I swear y’all get information before—”
A voice interrupted them from behind. “Well, well, if it isn’t Mr. Cesar Augustus Santos in the flesh.” Santos literally cringed and drew up his shoulders to protect his head as the voice continued, “Looks like he’s all grown up. Did you ever learn how to supply a company, Mr. Santos?”
Fargo glanced back to see Ganju smiling broadly as he walked up to them. Santos turned slowly and said, “CSM, I…think I learned from your lessons.”
Keads and Kulbir were smiling as Ganju stuck out his hand. “Glad to hear that, Mr. Santos. I always thought you had more potential than most pork chops.”
Kulbir and Fargo laughed as Keads and Nicole looked at them like they were crazy. Nicole asked, “Pork chops?”
Ganju nodded to Fargo, “Ekavir, would you explain?”
Fargo laughed again. “Ancient history. In the Navy and Marines, the logistics officer was called the supply officer. The archaic symbol for them looked like a pork chop, hence the appellation of pork chop. And since the Ghorka’s service goes back to those times, they have…shall we say, continued that tradition, albeit privately in most cases.”
The colonel smiled. “I like it. Now that actually makes me want a pork chop. A real pork chop.” He turned to the major. “Oh, and we will be supporting these troops. They are actually Gray Lady contracted, so we can officially provide them anything they need, including ammunition.”
“Where did they get armor?” Santos asked plaintively. “It looks newer than the fleet armor I’m used to seeing.”
“It is, and more advanced too,” Fargo said. “Gray Lady is contracted to do test and evaluation and what better place to test and evaluate than a company with Deity knows how many years of combat experience in actual field environments.”
“And actual combat…Captain Fargo ended up deep under Eros moon rescuing slaves with a platoon of troopers. He…slightly overstressed a set of armor hauling another set of armor to safety.” Keads smiled at him. “You seem to make a habit of that, Captain. That’s why you got another Bronze Star.”
Fargo grimaced. “I don’t like leaving folks behind. And the CSM had a bit of a problem…She…was dying.” Nicole reached over a touched his arm, causing him to glance at her, then pulled her close. Santos’ eyebrows rose and Fargo said, “Yes, we’re a couple. Everyone here knows it, we just don’t advertise it around the regular troops.”
Santos shook his head. “I know nothing, I saw nothing, I heard—”
Ganju crowed, “By the gods, he has learned!”
Grayson and OneSvel came off the shuttle carrying medkits, and Grayson smirked. “PDA, PDA! I’m going to tell!”
Ganju turned and drew his Kukri as he muttered, “One will turn this one into a eunuch, then there will be no worry about sex.” Grayson swung his medkit in front of his family jewels as Nicole said something that made Ganju and the other Ghorka smile.
OneSvel’s GalTrans twittered, “The testes can be regenerated, but don’t always function after regeneration. Humans seem to have problems with that for unknown reasons.”
Colonel Keads smothered a laugh as he said, “They are militia, they…GalPat rules do not apply in this case.”
Ganju looked over at Fargo. “Ekavir? Shall I?”
Fargo smiled. “No, don’t turn him into a eunuch. I don’t want to listen to him bitch.”
“Not even the tip, as Chief Sergeant has recommended?”
He cocked his head at Nicole. “Really? You went there?”
She smiled, if you could call it that. “It would teach him a lesson I don’t think he’d forget.” Head high, she continued toward the training spaces. “Besides, I’m freezing! You boys can stay out here and play all you want.”
OneSvel, with Grayson scuttling around to be on the offside from Ganju, headed toward the small clinic muttering to himself. Fargo and the other Ghorka picked up the pace, with the colonel and major lagging behind. Santos asked quietly, “Why do they call Fargo Ekavir? And why do they follow him? He’s…never commanded in GalPat that I’m aware of.”
Keads shook his head. “Captain Fargo is a former Terran Marine. He…and five of his troops were the only survivors of a bad intel dump during the Cluster Skirmish almost sixty years ago. He personally carried five sets of armor from the field to the LZ. Once they were back, he…went after the intel colonel who gave them bad data. He was brought up on charges, court martialed, and drummed out of the Corps. He did almost thirty years in the GalScouts before retiring here. And as far as his Ghorka name, Ekavir means bravest of the brave. Apparently he very calmly went prone and shot a slashgator that was charging three of them, finally stopping it less than five feet from his head.”
Santos said, “So he’s as crazy as they are.”
“Pretty much. And not only the Ghorka will follow him, apparently the Herm company at Rushing River will follow him to the gates of hell and through it.” They were almost to the training room and he added, “I’ll give you the AARs on the Endine and Eros moon clusterfucks. That will explain a lot of things.”
“Yes, sir. I’d appreciate it, since I’m obviously in way over my head here.”
Chuckling, the colonel said, “Don’t feel bad. I’m…not going to say anything about the previous leadership. Let’s just leave it at that.”
OneSvel caught up with Fargo as he stood outside the training office. “We need to talk now, if you can get away.”
Fargo projected, “Armory in five segs. It should be empty.” He stepped back into the training office, saw Lal, Jiri, Horse, Santos, and the colonel deep in discussions over support and supplies and slipped quietly away. He stopped by the break room, grabbed a bulb of ersatz coffee, and casually strolled down to the armory.
Stepping inside, he almost dropped the bulb as OneSvel loomed out of the dimness. Damn, he can move quietly…
He heard OneSvel’s chuckle in his mind, then they linked. “There is major conflict inside the Dragoon hierarchy, according to intelligence reports. Word has come out that the heir is missing, possibly captive of a rival dynasty. Also, there is a fresh set of incursions in Orillian Sector, at least four worlds have been violently subsumed by the Dragoons. GalPat was pushed out in one low level battle in the vicinity of Corilian, with the loss of six destroyers and one cruiser. No landings were attempted. GalScout HQ wants you to make a trip to Epsilon, specifically to Myoto. HQ believes they may be the next world to be taken. Myoto is about the same shape as Hunter, but with no militia and only a small GalPat detachment. They are having problems with large predators and have no defensive measures or guns of any type. They renounce all forms of violence. It is a fourteen day trip each way. Also, congratulations from HQ for breaking up the ice mining on Eros moon. GalPat has authorized Endine to take over mining operation, as this is the closest ice available in the Rimworlds. Also, GalScout has put out an alert to watch for hydrocarbons being mined anywhere. A distinctly different compound has been observed being used by Trader ships transiting Berlin and Al Misra.”
Fargo replied, “I…can’t leave for another couple of months. I have something I have to do here first.” He threw up a hasty block on his memories of Ton’Skel, then decided in for a credit, in for a million credits. “You remember the…young Dragoon I told you about that we rescued from the Star Lines shuttle?”
“He is here.”
OneSvel’s skin flashed through multiple colors and a forest of small pseudopods erupted from his body. “Here! Why?”
“His…relative needed to get him off Star Center. He has…diplomatic immunity, plus he is…barely three years old, so technically a child.”
“Dragoons are not children at age three, they are starting combat training. Where is he?”
“At my cabin. I have the animals watching/protecting him.”
He inadvertently saw a deeper portion of OneSvel’s mind, which told him they were deep in thought. Suddenly OneSvel’s attitude change. “This…there is a chance…I must talk to NasTess. Do not do anything further until I can contact you. I need…you must come back to Rushing River within two days.”
Fargo huffed out a breath. Well, this is…odd. I’ve never seen him pausing in thought. Something has him…not upset, but… “How about I come in for a physical. Knee pain again. The sumbitch actually does hurt in the cold.”
“That would be acceptable. We must…come up with a plan.” Both of them sensed someone coming and Fargo said, “And this is where the suits are kept on low charge.” The door opened and Jiri led the colonel and major in.
“Ah, Ekavir, I was just going to show them how we maintain and document the use of the armor. The Chief Sergeant is ready to go, if you are finished with the medical reviews.”
OneSvel chittered, “Yes, all are in good health, and Tsiring is fully recovered. She may now resume all normal activities that children do.”
Jiri laughed. “She did that two days after you healed her. She has driven Sushma crazy with her…actions.”
Boykin laughed as she climbed down out of the cockpit at Rushing River. “Take your bags, boxes, and stray things in a sack and get off my shuttle! One fresher stop and a pickup and it’s riki-tik to home I go!”
Fargo cocked an eye at her as Nicole laughed. “Bit of a long day, eh, Warrant?”
The warrant smiled and replied, “Long, boring, my butt hurts, and I’ve had way too many cups of…stuff. But I do have to admit the takedown of Grayson was one for the ages!” She sidled over to Nicole, “So, what did you really say? The GalTrans didn’t pick up enough to translate due to the wind noise.” Nicole, grinning evilly, whispered in her ear. The warrant’s eyes got big, she barked a laugh, and clapped her hands delightedly. “Oh, that is so perfect! I’ve got to remember that!” The two hugged quickly as Fargo and OneSvel made their way down the ramp, to be met by Sergeant Omar.
“Ho, Lieutenant of the retired. Ride you need?”
Fargo smiled. “Ride we do not. For OneSvel, ride is needed to clinic.”
“Ride I will give.” He looked up to see the women coming down the ramp and asked, “Rides you need?”
“Ride not, Sergeant. Walk I will, fresher I need, then depart I will.” Omar saluted her as he recognized Nicole.
“Ride not needed, Sergeant. Walk to admin we will. Runabout is there.”
OneSvel’s GalTrans twittered, “Ride I would appreciate, Sergeant.” Omar took OneSvel’s medkit and put it in the front of the runabout as he clambered into the back of the vehicle. Fargo shook his head, then picked up his and Nicole’s bags and went after her and the warrant.
A half div later, the two of them sat at the dining table with Mikhail, Luann, Ian, and Inga. Luann was, as usual, prattling on about the store, what the kids had done lately, and why he never came to dinner. But his mental probe told him she was basically happy, the store was making credits, and the kids had been good. He relaxed and just enjoyed the byplay between Ian and Inga, and Nicole and Luann. After dinner, Mikhail nodded toward the back patio and the two of them stepped out on the patio after they got their jackets and bulbs of coffee.
Mikhail said, “Ready to go back to work?”
“Sure. What’s going on? Is it at least on planet this time?” Sipping his bulb he asked plaintively, “Somewhere warm?”
Laughing, Mikhail replied, “It’s a couple of months out, so yes, it will be warm. It’s down southwest of White Beach. An expansion for a new township a six hundred miles southwest, actually.”
“Probably number three. It’s…a bit of a reach, but doable. We’ll need to put in,” Mikhail thought for a few seconds, “Probably three or four links to get to the actual feeder.”
Curious, Fargo asked, “How many…miles from the Terraformer?”
“Right at a thousand miles. There are at least three good peaks we can site the links on, and the actual feeder site will be within ten miles of the new township. They’re going to start dropping modules in two months, and we can’t do anything prior to all of them being in place.”
“So, not even the links?”
Mikhail shook his head, “Nope. Safety issue, according to Klynton’s minions. But surveys show a good bit of animal activity in the region, so you’re probably going to need to go in early and see what’s there.”
“Good. I’m tired of people. And I’d like to get a few more Silverbacks. They seem to like higher altitudes and a lot of animal activity.
Estimates are that a HALF BILLION dollars have been spent since Nov 3 in Georgia on the two senate races…
That’s got to be the most expensive election in history!
And it makes me wonder if the amounts of money are overriding the reality of local issues that the elections SHOULD be about… Instead, one has to look at WHERE the money is coming from, HERE. It’s interesting that a lot of Ossoff’s money is from out of state! And it’s the same for Warnock, HERE.
This makes me think there is a concerted effort by big tech to BUY this election… Grrr…
The total cost of the 2020 election will nearly reach an unprecedented $14 billion, making it the most expensive election in history and twice as expensive as the previous presidential election cycle.
Full article, HERE.
And then there is this little tidbit that has been buried in Google and other search windows about votes being changed in GA, HERE.