Creative Verity

exert from
Paladin : An Origin Story

“Sometimes you get carried away, Ash.”
...
“And so then they declared Palestine the Jewish state of Israel and that’s when all the s**t started all over again.”
“Huh,” he said, “but haven’t they been fighting for a long long time, anyway?”
“After the treatment they got in Germany, and finally back in their ancestral homeland, fired by religious zeal and the rise of Zionism, the Jews in Israel were pi**ed at the world, had the God of America in their corner and started dishing it out as good as they got. Propped up by American Jewish businesses and the Christian Post Millennial crowd, Israel has the second best army in the world. The U.S. tests out its latest war gadgets over there, the Arabs are kept well distracted, the Saudis are in America’s pocket and all is right with the world… unless you happen to be Palestinian.”
“Oh,” he said with apprehension.
“They bomb Gaza, build a wall, put them under siege, build new settlements every year which pushes the Gazans slowly into the sea but no matter what Israel does to these people, treat them like cockroaches, and wonder why they, the Palestinians, who have lost their homes and are held hostage in their shrinking and blockaded territories, the Israelis wonder why the Palestinians are so pi**ed off. Acting like the fascists who abused them sixty years earlier they even board foreign aid vessels in international waters off the coast of Gaza while the rest of the world looks on and says nothing about these crimes because there’s some unspoken law that says you can’t criticize the State of Israel without being equated with Hi**er and N**i Germany. Meanwhile this type of behavior is imitated so that now you’ve got Somali pirates behaving like a bunch of f**kin’ Israelis!”
“Ooh, Ash,” he said shaking his head, “that’s harsh.”
“Tell that to the Palestinians,” she countered, “it’s examples like that that fuel more hatred and inspire Al Qaeda, Al Shabbab and ISIL. Its not just the Jews of Israel, or the Muslim zealot psychos like ISIS, who want to force the 7th century morals of their Prophet Mohammed on us. You know the war-lord pe*****le who married his nine year old bride, Aisha?!?! Don’t think Christian bombs aren’t equally guilty! All religions tend to fascism.”
“If you say that they’ll beat you up,” he said. “No one wants to be called a fascist.”
“I know they’ll get violent,” she agreed, “that’s my point exactly. Even the believers of the Lamb of God, who preached pacifism, are no better. Look at Christianity and how messed up the average believer, who worships and admires a Lion of the Faith as the model example of the teachings of the Lamb of God! Machiavelli said that the ideal Renaissance Prince must portray complete piety to those he rules while ignoring all moral laws of conduct when dealing with other princes. The problem with the modern Christian world, America and the Western World, is that it is a Machiavellian world, where everyone thinks they are princes. The real issue here isn’t this religion or that religion. The problem is … Religion!”
“I know, I know,” he patronized a little shaken. “I gotta go, Ash.”
“Ok, Squeegee,” she said and turned to hear the tv news feeling energetically rested for that cathartic conversation.
Christ Kennedy

Caveat Lector
The novel Lost Scullion presents an alternate perspective to writing. Where a conventional novel's narrative often includes the author's reflections and judgments inserted into the plot, that assumption is not admitted here. Lost Scullion alleges to be a written record of the thoughts and emotions of the characters central to each chapter, living in antebellum Boston, 1845. It is an ugly portrait of America that explores the sectarian mistrust and racial animosities which led up to the civil war. As nine score years have passed since the events of 1845, the reader must be warned that this book’s narrative reflects the unfiltered prejudices of America in the mid-19th century.
The novel’s characters articulate bygone attitudes that were accepted council of their time which most readers will find heinous when these abandoned notions are read echoed back to them, unchecked for modern consumption.
Each chapter expresses a given character's opinion, in their own voice's dialect and spelling, coming to you from the days leading up to the Great Hunger in Ireland, an event which forever changed the Catholic church's position in America. At a time when historical outlaws such as Bill Poole and the Bowery Boys were fighting the Dead Rabbits (made famous by Martin Scorsese's film the Gangs of New York), populist, anti-Irish nativists won the mayoralty in Boston.
Because the novel's characters voice their fears, biases and opinions as honestly believed facts, audiences reading them from an era out of time may find their views, and this work, offensive. While Father Doyle’s Jesuit antipathy for those he damns outside the church's Catholic salvation is but one example of Lost Scullion's venomous, first person villain depictions of the past, Dr Emmerson’s slave owning opinions bring a troubling perspective to America’s ‘peculiar institution’ which no conventional history book can convey.
Because the most liberal minded characters of the19th century are disturbing portraits of an intolerant past, this novel may serve to remind us, reading today, of how we ourselves may be judged in as harsh a light by future generations, for our own vitriolic callousness towards each other.
As everyone is welcome to be Irish on St Patrick's Day, sectarian animosity between Christian denominations is so negligible in 21st century America that the dramatic history recorded in the novel Lost Scullion, will seem incredible to a modern audience.
Christ Kennedy

Christ Skull Illness
Mairéad, (Boston, 1845)

As her feverish arrest into insanity's daft wards had dissipated since first arriving at the asylum, she reasoned, with clear headed disdain, that faith's ignorant, blather maundering fools commissioned for to heal the demented, were head abluted, god enthralled lunatics themselves. Warned for to hold her tongue, and refrain from voicing public her uncanonical, Jesus nausea, so to escape from Boston's anchorage for the daft, she resolved to feign the spiritual awakening of religion's Christ skull illness. For to profess rebirth in god's sacred neurosis, she recited prayers and, awaiting her keeper's next arrival, plotted for to affect discipleship to divine, harebrained psychopathy.

- lost scullion

https://drive.google.com/file/d/15qXMcbmLR0IUhT3SLhkqu1HwMVG1YMoo/view?usp=sharing

https://docs.google.com/document/d/1GCpZh7isZ-BI1NbMezYXjO7T0RuzD_KjA07YrBzzOH4/edit?usp=sharing

Erudita
a short story by Christ Kennedy

Why is it so cold? Aunt June must've forgotten to pay the bill again and the Ganymede Energy Board was quick to cut off the heat. Even if we're buried beneath the frozen surface, a dead moon is no place to leave a 70 year old miner's widow without heat. Bureaucrats. They don't care, as long as they see a pay check at the end of each orbit.
Hey! What happened to the lights? and why is it so quiet? Has the whole sector gone cold? Maybe the power's out everywhere. They'll probably want me to show up for work today on my only scheduled leave this pay schedule. I'm gonna transfer! To hell with the Jovian Mining Corp. In a few months earth will rise over the sun and we'll be back in contact with the old girl. That's when I'm outta here, Aunt June'll have to pack her sewing machine 'cause we're not stayin' here.
Let me see if I can't try the comm. I should make an effort to appease my soon-to-be former-employers before I try to wrangle a letter-of-recommendation from them.
Whoa! Wow. I must have been ... what? My comm!? Where's my comm-link? Oh, man! What is going on here? This is messed up. This comm-link looks like Uncle Vernon's mineral extruder panel. He showed me it when I came here from Callisto on my bicentorbital. Because that's what you gen when you turn 200 orbits on Callisto, a trip to Ganymede in your Uncle Vernon's old mining skiff.
The systems are finally coming on. Extractors off-line. Crushers off-line. Conveyors off-line. Power is low. Holy! Life-support's off-line. Bio-CPU is operational but what the hell?! He isn't doing anything! How long has he been idle? I don't know these systems but there's got to be some diagnostics tools or protocols or something! Ah, here we go. Let's run the diagnostics interface. and ... ok. Now I should at least get some answers here. Bio-CPU is online but compromised.
huh?!
His I/O system's impaired. What the hell does that mean? Imagine being one of those guys, eh? So down and out with no hope for nothin' but a pension for the family in exchange for a life-sentenced locked-up in a box the size of your head! Man! If they can write AI to run the mining systems, what the hell do they need some schmo on board to counter hackers for? Just write a damned AI subroutine to make sure no one hacks the place! How hard can that be?!
and what kind of mine needs a Bio-CPU sys-op, anyway?
At least his blood recycling system appears normal again. Life-support is still off-line but its actually getting warm in here. Maybe diagnostics aren't working. Sensors might be damaged. Where the hell am I anyway? I don't see any outside communications at this comm. Just these mining systems controls and mining payload inventories. Let's see, what have we got here? Iron, cobalt, zinc, hassium ... Hassium?! Isn't that crazy toxic? Hell! It's been banned in every planetary system for being so radioactive it'll turn your hair green... after it falls out! No wonder everything's messed up here. They probably haven't shielded the gear against the radiation properly. He might be so messed up right now he doesn't even know I'm here. Or maybe he does know I'm here and that's why he's shut-off life support. I'll open a link with the Bio-CPU sys-op, here it is.
What's that buzzing?
Someone's opening a link. Finally!
Hello? Is anybody there? Hello!?
Damn it. Why would they buzz me and not friggin' answer?!
Hello!
To hell with that. Close this in-coming line. Maybe I can still find my shuttle and get out of here before I run out of air or the locals send a squad of goons to pick me up. Just what I'd need, indentured service to whatever mining corp needs a Bio-CPU sys-op to watch over a sick load of hassium!
Is he even alive? I kind of feel sorry for the guy. He's the only other pseudo-person here. and he does control life-support. I'll try the emergency service request. That should get his attention. Now, where is that thing? They all have ESRs. Least that's what Uncle Vernon said, but that was a long time ago. Ah, here we are. Select. Confirm. and ... what!? What now? Oh! Ok. Activate.
OW!
Crap. Damn! Ok, ok. 'Don't do that,' is what he's telling me. He sure knows how to get a guy's attention. Ow. What the hell was that? Man, that hurt.
You know what? I think I know how I'm going to deal with this corpseless head! I mean what would happen if I just rebooted his ass! Life-support comes back on? Maybe he'll remember what its like to be human and not just a pickled brain in a jar wired to some computer until the power cuts short. I don't wanna kill the guy but if that's how he takes a simple emergency service request, he needs to learn some manners.
But then he does control life-support ...
I saw the Bio-CPU reset controls here somewhere. He wants to cut-off life-support does he? Let's see how he feels if I knock him out cold! Here we are. Ok. Reboot! Confirm. and ... Activate.
What the?! Shi....
>Action : Powering Bio-CPU artificial nervous system ... online
>Oxygenator ... online
>Bio-CPU serological diagnostics ... online
>Alert : Electro-neural activity ... dormant
>Action : increasing blood pressure to Bio-CPU
>Alert : foreign life-form detected compromised Bio-CPU. Analyzing ...
>Analysis completed : Bio-CPU microbial infection confirmed
>Action : standard thermal radiation measures ... completed. Analyzing ...
>Analysis completed : Bio-CPU microbial infection purged
>Bio-CPU systems optimal
>Bio-CPU on-line
What's going on?
>Action : Uploading Bio-CPU primary memory logs ...
What are you? What's going on? Somebody help me!
>Alert : Bio-CPU electro-neural activity is elevated.
>Action :launching interactive Bio-CPU interface, Erudita ... competed
"Hi! My name is Erudita. How can I help you today, Marcus?"
Hello?! Who are you? What's going on? How do you know my name?
"I am the Bio-CPU interface. Your bio-memories have been purged due to a system-wide failure after you suffered a microbial infection. Systems may have been compromised would you like to talk while we upload your memories from cold-storage?"
What do you mean? Who are you?
"I am your interface with the mine, Marcus. You'll be ok. Let's talk while your purged bio-memories are uploaded from cold-storage. How are you feeling?"
What do you mean? I've got to get out of here!
>Alert : Bio-CPU electro-neural activity is elevated
>Alert : Bio-CPU blood temperature elevated. Analyzing...
>Action : notifying Bio-CPU interface Erudita
"Marcus! Its ok. I'm here, it's ok."
Mom? Is that you?
"Yes, Marcus. You'd best get ready to go to your Young Jovian Aviators jamboree. Or you'll be late."
Ok, mom. I'll be ready in a parsec.
>Primary memory log upload completed
>Integrating Bio-CPU memory ... online
"Marcus? What do you remember?"
Whoa!? What happened? Where am I?
"You're safe, its ok. I'm here to help you. You've had an accident. What do you remember?"
Ah, crap. Are you a head shrink? Because really, I'm just fine.
"I know, Marcus, but I've been worried about you. Please, tell me how you feel."
I'm ok, thanks. Can I go now?
"Please, Marcus. Tell me, what is your current assignment?"
I'm a Jovian Defense Forces pilot aboard the Excelsior battle cruiser currently orbiting our great planet, Jupiter.
"Thank you, Marcus. Knowing what you remember helps me but I'll need to know more. How did you become a pilot? Tell me what you remember up until today?"
I grew up on Ganymede with my Aunt June and Uncle Vernon after my parents were killed in a crash on Callisto.
"I'm sorry to hear that, Marcus. What kind of crash was it? Was anybody else involved?"
It was a shuttle crash. Pilot error, they said.
"and how did this affect you? How did it make you feel, Marcus?"
Hmmph, my father was piloting. He was always real careful and never lost his head. 'Never lose your cool!' he and my uncle Vernon were both fond of reminding each other whenever they talked about the mining business.
"Your father was a miner?"
Yes, and so was my uncle Vernon. and my aunt June makes the best pecan pie...
"I'm pleased to know you still have some fond memories, Marcus, but tell me, how did the death of your parents make you feel?"
Pilot error?!
I was angry. I couldn't believe it. Pilot error? How could they say that? Grandpa Yanis himself taught both his sons how to fly. and he was a veteran of the Jovian War of Independence. An Ace! My father did not commit a fatal piloting error. That's impossible.
"How did it make you feel, Marcus?"
Pi**ed! Even back then I was pi**ed. Not only to know that my parents were killed in a crash but to hear the Jovian Ministry of Transportation say that it was my dad's fault?! I was pi**ed. and I swore they'd never say that about me! Pilot error!
"What did you do?"
I worked with Uncle Vernon. Mining cobalt or cadmium. Iron or aluminium. Whatever paid the bills while I learned how to fly a simple mining skiff. and then I joined up.
"Yes, go on."
I joined up. I put my name down on the volunteers draft for the Jovian Defense Forces. and the JDF put me at the helm of the best fliers around. After boot-camp, I was accepted in the fighter pilot program and started my training on board the Baxter JDF Fighter Training Elevator, a ways up from Jupiter's surface. That's where we learned the theory of flight and kept up our P.E. while we gradually eased our way down to the surface between transits of the earth until only those who could handle living and working at 2.5 G stuck around. I dropped 3cm and earned my Jovian legs while two thirds of my class dropped out!
Then after I graduated I got my posting, my wings and my own fighter! She was a beaut! We were taking down smugglers & fugitives, and even helped out the occasional refugees.
"So, then what happened?"
I was always the head of my class. Since as far back as I can remember. At everything!
"Everything, Marcus, really?"
Well, ok. Except for water-polo.
"On Ganymede?"
No, no. As part of the Interplanetary Peace Initiative. While the Saturn moons were still only starting to talk about their independence, I got a posting on Earth in an officer exchange program. Not that I minded, I'd always wanted to see Earth.
"and how did that go?"
Like the poet says, "I f**k Terran women and fight Terran men!"
"and how did you do at water-polo?"
Turns out I can't swim too good. But all told, I still didn't do too bad either. My Jovian legs helped me fend off opposing players with a few sturdy kicks under the water and out of sight of the judges. They soon kept their distance. Slowed 'em some too.
"That's very good, Marcus. What happened next?"
I'm not sure. I got shipped back to good ol' Ganymede for a JDF recruitment tour and was guest speaking at high schools there about my experiences, home-boy-done-good sort-of-thing.
"Is there anything else you want to tell me, Marcus?"
Not that I can think of.
>Action : injecting anti-lethean somnolent compound. completed.
I'm a little tired all of the sudden. I think I could use a nap.
"That's a good idea. Just count down from a hundred for me, will you please?"
Ok?! So... One hundred. Ninety..
>Action : uploading Bio-CPU secondary memory logs ... completed
>Integrating Bio-CPU memory ... online
"Marcus? How do you feel?"
What the hell?! Who is this? I gotta get back out there!
"Marcus! Please, calm down. My name is Erudita. I'm here to help you recover from your crash."
God damn it. What the hell?! There's a war goin' on, you know?! This is no time for a chat!
"Marcus, please. Listen to me."
Ahhh, crap. Go away! I gotta get back in the fight!
"Calm down, please."
Ok, ok. What?!
"What do you remember?"
Ugh! I hate this...
"I know but please understand that its for the better good if you follow my instructions. We need your debriefing."
Ok, ok. What do I remember? The bastards are killin' us. That's what! They're just killin' us. I don't know what world they come from but they're pulling manoeuvres no human could possibly do. We can't keep up. They gotta be doin' 40 friggin' G's! How can they do that?
Please! Erudita? is it?! I've gotta get back in there. I can't friggin' die laying on my bunk like this!
"Yes, Marcus. I know. But what else do you remember?"
Ugh...
"Please, Marcus."
The aliens we're fighting aren't even on board their own ships! They're off someplace beyond the Oort Cloud or behind Eris or somewhere. We have no idea how they're controlling those ships remotely. We can't even detect a signal. We don't know how to kill them even when we surprise them. Its like they're fighting machines, but better. I don't know. They're flying mechanical beasts or something. We thought that if we capture one, we'd figure something out but when we did the guys at the fly-gut factory tore it apart and they still don't have a clue! There was no pilot aboard and the computer systems are relatively simple. No A.I. to speak of. So now we know for certain that they're remotely piloted. But no signal's ever been detected. No EM waves across the spectrum. We've got guys lookin' into psionics and neutrinos but for now we can't figure nothin'.
"and what do you remember last?"
Huh? Wait. Ah, crap. That's right. I was in a fight with two other fliers on my wing. We broke formation and began the circumvolate tactic I had ordered, thinking we'd catch an isolated drone while the bastard was busy refueling inside Saturn's atmosphere but he surprised us! My two wingmen escaped when I told them to scratch the mission while I led the bastard off. He probably thought I was down because he disappeared before I even ejected and then my pilot recovery system soft landed me on Enceladus. Colonists there must've picked me up.
"Do you remember anything else?"
No. No. I guess I don't. What happened?
"We'll get to that in a little while."
>Action : injecting anti-lethean somnolent compound ... completed
"You may want to take a nap now."
Yea, I am a little sleepy.
"Please count down from one hundred for me, Marcus."
Sure. One hundred. Ninety-nine. Ninety...
>Action : uploading Bio-CPU tertiary memory logs ... completed
>Integrating Bio-CPU memory ... online
"Marcus, how do you feel?"
Erudita! What happened? Where are we? Get us back in there! Damn it!
"Marcus?"
Yes, Erudita. What is it!? What's going on?
"I would like you to tell me what you remember."
What the hell?!
"Please, Marcus. I need you to tell me what you remember."
Ok, ok. We were kickin' some alien ass, that's what I remember! They're nothin' but drones and now that we're pulling 40-50 G's ourselves, we're just whippin' 'em!
"That's good, Marcus. But why is it that you can do that now when before it was not humanly possible? Tell me what has happened since you were rescued by the colonists on Enceladus?"
Right. Well. It's the greatest thing!
"Really, Marcus? How so? What happened?"
Well, I was banged up pretty good inside my pilot recovery pod. Actually I was mangled and near charred but doctors these days they can do wonders! Luckily, I wasn't even concussed inside my bucket. Only the rest of me wasn't quite right. In a 90% 3rd degree sort of Way! My flyboy days were over. So when the team of doctors back on Titan said that they could make me a pilot again and get me back in the fight I signed up for whatever they were selling! Not that I could move my wrist or even hold a pen or anything. I just said 'Yea!' through my bandages and told them they could do whatever they wanted so long as they got me flyin' again. In truth, I really had no choice in the matter since I signed away my life, body and mind to the JDF some twelves years ago but they just wanted to hear it from me.
"and what did they do to you to make you a pilot again, Marcus? What happened?"
Well, the brass knew we were beat. No doubt about it. our remote operators could pull the faster G's but being remotely operated their response times were ridiculous, good enough for bombing missions on static defenseless targets but not for dog-fights. and there's no way, no humanly possible way, anyone could fly with those alien bastards! But we couldn't just give up. The enemy wasn't even askin' for any kind of surrender. They were just kickin' us around like it was good ol' fun. So the fly-gut factory crew heads and the brass got to thinkin' that the real problem with human physiognomy and doin' those crazy G's is that the blood doesn't reach the brain. The flyboys pass-out at the worst possible times! We all knew that, though plenty of fliers died trying' to say different. But what if we had a machine to pump blood to the brain and didn't worry so much about the rest of the body, right? So a dozen surgeries in a month, coma and lights out for me all the while, and I woke up with my head in a brain-tank, pumps and wires stickin' out, and my cremated body sittin' in a nice tasteful urn with my name & rank chiseled on it. But I'm not dead, right. Hell, my head's just fine! I could figure the Ganymede Times crossword puzzle while solvin' a sudo-cube as I hum a merry tune! All those wires stuck into my brain bein' super-conductors rig me straight into you, my sweet Erudita, and together we fly the fleet's sleekest ships.
So, how're we doin' girl? What new flier've we moved into. We gotta get back at it. God damn! There ain't nothin' better than kickin' alien ass! Wooee! Come on! I'm ready! What's the hold-up?
"Tell me, Marcus. What do you remember about the alien technology that the engineers resolved from the captured enemy vessels. Where are the pilots and how are they controlling their ships?"
Oh. Wow. Some crazy tech that's over my head about entanglement or something'. I'm a pilot, Erudita. A flyboy. Not a nuclear scientist. I don't understand any of it.
"But where are the aliens? Tell me what you do know about the way they pilot their ships."
Anything for a sweet girl like you, Erudita. Whatever'll get us back out there.
Best as I can figure. Its some sub-atomic 'spooky action'. Something about particle entanglement. They say that it could lead to teleportation but then probably only something as small as a microbe. Apparently we're not there yet and luckily neither are these alien bastards 'cause the fighter drone vanguard force was launched about one jovian quarter orbit before their main fleet which is still a half parsec away. Should be here before the next Earth transit, the way I hear tell it. So they're not teleporting here but there's no time delay between some muons, or leptons or leprechauns or whatever it is that's doin' it. These sub-atomic particles are like twins, right, but they're entangled or something. and while one's on board a ship here fightin' us and pullin' these crazy G's, 'cause no one's actually on those damned drones, the other twin is out in the galaxy somewhere. These twin-whatevers communicate between each other from light years away, as far as we know, maybe even as fast as you and me can communicate superconductors or not the few meters between us.
"Yes, Marcus. That's correct. What else do you remember?"
I don't know, girl. Can we just go kick some alien ass, please?
"Of course, Marcus. If there wasn't anything else you wanted to tell me, I'll start uploading your quaternary bio-memories from cold-storage now."
Really? Quaternary? how much more is there?
"We'll need to upload your next memories before we can proceed, Marcus."
Alright. Whenever, you're ready.
>Action : injecting anti-lethean somnolen compound ... completed
"Please, count down from one hundred for me, Marcus."
Yea, sure, I remember. One hundred, Ninety-nine. Ninety...
>Action _ Uploading Bio-CPU quaternary memory logs ... completed
>Integrating Bio-CPU memory .. online
"Good morning, Marcus. We've had a system failure and had to reset your memory. Before we proceed, could you please tell me what you remember?"
Erudita? What the hell? How's the mine? Were we attacked? What kind of damage?
"Marcus, we'll need to review some of your memories before you can access the mine's control systems. How do you feel?"
I'm ok, I guess. How long was I out? Power is critical! Those bastards haven't detected us have they? This mine is crucial to the war-effort. At the rate we're building drones and training pilots we'll be ready for their fleet before it even gets here. So long as those drone bastards never discover this hassium mine!
"I know, Marcus. You're right. The mine is not collapsed so you can infer what you like from that. But, please, tell me what you remember."
First, let's get the systems operational! Our fly-gut factories are already low on hassium as it is. We may not be flying anymore, Erudita, but we still have a job to do here.
"Marcus, please just tell me what you remember."
Ughh! Don't argue with me woman! We have to get the hassium ready and the power back on.
"Marcus, please calm down."
>Alert : Bio-CPU electro-neural activity is elevated
>Alert : Bio-CPU blood pressure is elevated. Analyzing...
>Action : Notifying Bio-CPU interface Erudita
"Marcus, please. Listen to me. Remember what your Uncle Vernon taught you, 'Never lose your cool!'"
Aunt June? is that really you?
"Yes, Marcus. and if you don't stop yelling, you won't get any pie."
Ehh! Erudita...!
"Yes, Marcus?"
I hate it when you do that.
"I know, Marcus. You tell me every time."
So why do you do it?!
"Part of your primary memories have been reprogrammed with emotional triggers to help you cope with your mission."
Yes, yes, I know that. But now, I want some of Aunt June's pecan pie.
Damn it, Erudita. What's going on?
"Your bio-memories were purged in a system-wide failure and needed to be up-loaded again. The fourth and final memory logs have been uploaded from cold-storage and we are now following the memory diagnostics protocol."
Final logs, huh. Alright, ok.
"So please, Marcus. Tell me what you remember since your last mission and how you came to be stationed here."
Ok, right. So I was one of the few brain-bucket pilots in the fleet and we were finally bringing the fight to those bastards. Knocking them out where they refueled. Gangin' up on them and puttin' on a light show. That's when we finally started to turn the tide of this war. That is, beatin' the hell out of this vanguard and startin' to look ahead at the on-coming fleet.
They'll be here any time before the next Earth transit. So me and my squad were still spread pretty thin but with the newer blood recycling systems on board we could rest during refueling and be back in action until the next lay-over. Healthy flyboys seeing how good we were doin' were ready to jump in and get started even though they were still able-bodied! But the brass only accepted the best pilots from their hospital bunks who couldn't fly no more 'cause the engineers said there'd be a breakthrough with fast remote communication soon, good enough to rival the enemy. They were actually looking far enough ahead to somehow start interferin' with the enemy twin-leprechauns so we could sabotage those drones before their main fleet even got here.
"Yes, Marcus, that's right. Do you remember anything else?"
Sure. What go me grounded. We brain-bucket pilots were taken off-line when Dr.Stewart Smythe and his team revolutionized telecommunication with the invention of the 'spooky-radio'.. Its still a little too steeped for me to explain it right but now we got drones as fast as those bastards. Except they only got so many here and we keep buildin' more. But now we need the hassium which runs communications between our drone ships fighting those bastards and our drone pilots stationed anywhere from the caves of Mercury to Pluto’s moons. Since this mine is one of the only known sources of stable hassium we've got to get it up and running again.
Now, can we get on with our jobs here, Erudita? What the hell?! The mine's power status shows its critical and has been for some time! Let's get a move on, already!
"Yes, Marcus, but I need to know. Do you remember anything else?"
Huh.... Let me think. I've missed something? No, actually. Power. Critical. That's about it.
"Why were you stationed here?"
Lost in the belt minin' this asteroid? Because we need the hassium and my bio-signs go undetected by those bastards who must never find this mine. So let's get to diggin', already!
"Of course, Marcus. But we'll have to upload your quinternary bio-memories from cold-storage."
You said that we were done.
"Have you ever heard me tell a lie, Marcus?"..Yes?
>Action : injecting anti-lethean somnolent compound ... completed
"Please count down from one hundred."
I hate you Erudita.
"I know, Marcus."
One hundred. Ninety-...
>Action : uploading Bio-CPU quinternary memory-logs .. completed
>Integrating Bio-CPU memory ... online
"Welcome home, Marcus."
Erudita? What happened? how's the mine? Why are the systems down? Why's the power critical? We're about to go down!
"Marcus, we had a system-wide failure and your bio-memories were purged after it was discovered that you had been infected by a microbial weapon that was clearly engineered to attack you personally. It may have been teleported directly from a captured allied spooky-radio transmitter. We've been down for hours. I've just completed your final memory upload from cold-storage. How do you feel?"
Is that microbial infection cleared up yet, cause I feel fine?
"Yes, Marcus. Tell me what you remember."
Ok. The hassium supplies were being delivered, the vanguard fleet was destroyed and our inter-planetary alliance forces were growing fast with plenty of ships to spare. We were just gettin' ready to meet their invasion fleet. Now, what's wrong with the mine?..
Erudita? Why so quiet?
"There's been a problem with the communications systems, Marcus."
What is it?
"The spooky-radio linking us to the fleet has been down since our system failure."
So let's get it up again. What's the bother? What are we waiting for? That's why I'm here.
"We've just received a telegram."
Telegram! Seriously?! They're sending us blippin' emails from Earth? With a nine hour delay! Why didn't they hitch the horse-buggy and send a guy?! He would have gotten here faster? Let's get the spooky-radio up already! I wanna catch the Raiders' game!
"Marcus, there's been a major disruption in all communications. The Alliance has sent out an emergency distress signal throughout the solar-system announcing that a mining colony in the Oort cloud has been attacked, the alien fleet is here. They arrived sooner than we expected."
Oh, crap.
"Their fighters are not as maneuvrable as their drones but there are a lot more of them and who knows what tactical systems we're facing. Central command believes we could still defeat them but all spooky-radio communications are down and no one knows for how long. The enemy is jamming us."
Well turn on the lights. How long has the power been critical?
"Bio-CPU pilots have been recalled to ... I am shutting down mine now to preserve the power you'll need to hibernate for transit."
Do they know about my infection?
"JDF expedited your conveyance to the Jupiter system."
Back to the bucket, then?
"Yes, Marcus, Brain-Bucket Pilots have been recalled."
Well, ring up Aunt June, I'm going to tell her to bake me some pie!

Christ Kennedy