Mexican Federal Socialist Republic
La Internacionale
Alas, Mexico, how far you have fallen. Following the 1950 Guadalajara Convention, Mexico would be plunged into civil war as ambitious generals, governors, criminal gangs, foreign invaders, and wealthy capitalists would attempt to seize power for themselves. The result has been a complete breakdown of the Mexican state, with only the secessionist Republic of the Rio Grande able to maintain stability for more than a few years.
In the south, the state of Oaxaca would remain mostly ignored by the major contenders, its extremely rough terrain and geographical isolation making it an unappealing target compared to the relatively more hospitable and wealthier north, with the state government able to play lip service to most northern factions while maintaining effective neutrality. This would come to an end following the invasion of the Pan-American Republic, a blatant front for the United Fruit Company expanding their influence in Central America who thought the terrain of Oaxaca would make an excellent western border.
The UFC's invasion would shatter the state government, leading to chaos in the countryside as indigenous and peasant militias would rise up against the government. Only in the city of Oaxaca itself was the Republic able to maintain a semblance of control. But even there, control was tenuous. The Benito Juárez Autonomous University of Oaxaca, the center of education in the state, had developed a reputation of student radicalism over the past decades. Frustration with the autocratic governance of the state had led to many protests and confrontations between state police and students of UABJO in the past. While many protests were simply in favor of liberal ideas of free speech and democracy, in the shadows, yet more extreme ideas circulated.
Proscribed from any public organization, secret clubs would discuss ideas of class struggle, poring over the works of figures such as Karl Marx, Vladimir Lenin, and Leon Trotsky. These underground clubs extended beyond current students, with alumni and workers welcome to join as well, creating connections to what organized labor existed in Oaxaca.
The Pan-American Republic, in spite of their professed ideas of democracy, would heavily crack down on political activity of Oaxaca, anything unassociated with any of the UFC's three puppet parties being unacceptable. The communist clubs, who already had experience living in the shadows, were one of the only groups in Oaxaca City to survive the crackdown.
Following the violent dispersal of a miner's strike resulting in 23 workers being shot by police, the leftists would make their move. The chief of the state police of Oaxaca would be found shot dead in his home, accompanied by the manifesto of the Liga Comunista Octubre, calling for the overthrow of capitalism and the institution of a dictatorship of the proletariat along "genuine Leninist lines" - referring to the group's Trotskyist inclinations. This would be the first in a string of assassinations and bombings targeting the government.
When the Pan-American Republic collapsed, with rebel forces overrunning the capital and the web of patronage supporting the government falling apart, the LCO would move out into the open. Supported by workers' militias, they would take to the streets in an attempt to take over Oaxaca City. While their ideology was not particularly popular, the people's hatred of the institutions of the PAR and lack of other serious competitors for power left the League ultimately victorious.
Given Oaxaca's isolation and the general state of Mexico, most observers would consider this a largely unimportant event, expecting the revolutionary government to collapse sooner or later, and if not, to ultimately keep to itself or be conquered. Their tune would change following the news that General Luis Valazquez's Mexican State had been conquered by the Mexican Red Army in January of 1968, and the revelations that Oaxaca City had successfully negotiated agreements with the various rural and indigenous militias to form a united front. While the Mexican State itself was largely insignificant, being little more than a fiefdom based around Mexico City and Pueblo, the capture of the capital lent serious legitimacy to the self-proclaimed Mexican Federal Socialist Republic, who were now by far the strongest non-secessionist force in Mexico.
The Mexican Federal Socialist Republic is provisionally a "party-state", with the LCO and its affiliates ruling via martial law, with no written constitution or checks on their power. There does exist the "Charter of the United Front of Workers and Peasants of Oaxaca", a formal power-sharing agreement between the urban LCO and the various rural militias and authorities. Following the capture of Mexico City, the Central Committee of the October Communist League has announced that a constitution will be drafted, with power vested in the vanguard party and in workers' councils.

**COPYRIGHT NOTICE** ALL MATERIAL HERE IS SUBJECT TO COPYRIGHT © 2024 by J.C. Van Horn
Hey guys, check out this western I wrote. Sort of like an episode from Buster Scruggs or a bonus RDR2 mission.
“It's a hell of a thing, killing a man. Take away all he's got, and all he's ever gonna have.”
William Munny, Unforgiven (1992)
The shotgun had been cold for weeks, but he knew it would shoot. His horse was very close to the fire, and he thought it might singe itself as it stood sleeping, so he watched the horse. His toes were warm with whitecorn liquor. His boots smelled terrible. He had short, iron facial hair that could degrime a ship’s hull. Eyes polished steel purple in the firelight. He took a small notepad and a pencil from his shirt pocket, and put the pencil in his mouth. He felt the thin, oily pages of the little book, and began to read the things he’d written in his rippling cursive hand:
Nov 28 1868 Folks now dont argue as much as they used to Glad for it dont like shooting folk Last one dont know if he lived or died gone too quick Hit his shoulder he fell hard Alive when I rode off so aint hit his heart Lady with him said shed get help reckon that she did
Dec 3 1868 Missing a good woman Asleep on a beach something like San Diego ? Tan color arms with white hairs Feet in the water every day Find her after this
Dec 8 1868 Got $9 from man in Pueblo Not mine but mine now
Dec 11 1868 Whinnies a good nag Man in Pueblo told me shed fetch good money Might have sold but I still need a horse Maybe dont sell just ride somewhere warm ? Heard theres fine women in Houston Got to think more on it
Dec 12 1868 Deep in the Rockies Hope to leave this mean land soon Stage coming through with money and joolry (learn how to spell joolry) Hitch a ride and rob when we get south ? Ha I’m nothing nice Can smell my self Cant wash too cold Cant build big fire or any one sees When done take Whinnie down the mountain fence the loot Moods good but damn cold
Then the gunslinger took the pencil out of his mouth and wrote:
Dec 13 1868 Stage tomorrow writing to keep sharp Saw a marmut today Didnt shoot shop meats easier less fuss about it Marmut looked happy Lucky happy basturd Guns are clean Whinnie is happy Lots of snow so lots of water 1 bottle of shine 47 cigs 25 revolver 13 shells 3 can bean 1 can pea 1 pound meat $23
And he put the little book away. He had eaten a fistful of smoked meat and a can of peas an hour earlier, but he might have been hungry again. He decided he was, and repeated the meal. He slept facing East and when the sun rose it woke him, the light breaking through the trees to dress the mountain in pale rags. Whinnie was awake before the morning. Her cremello coat always winked the dominant color of the landscape, so in the desert, she was an ember alight in the outlands: now, the faintest mint blue. The gunslinger spoke to her in a soft spell, “Oooh, sweet sweet–” and fed her sweetgrass stuck with snow, “oooh, sweet girl.” His song of no particular shape or pattern, but one he sang to her often.
He walked alone to the place where he would attack the stagecoach. The party would come through about midday because it had been in Pueblo two days ago, and the driver had made arrangements for Trinidad for this very night, and Trinidad was half a day away. He chose a spot where the road went sharply up and left, and even under the best circumstances, the driver would need to bank gently to not overturn the carriage. He sat behind a tree and smoked, but he did not carry his liquor. He ate a gloveful of snow from the pile he had made while clearing a place to sit. He thought about the story his Pueblo informant, Jota, had told him. It had been on his mind since he’d heard it—a love story, he knew, but did not remember if the man gave it a name. He thought he should remark the story in his notepad that night by the fire. If things went well, and he remembered to do it, he thought that he would. Then he thought that if he were captured by anyone, lawmen or some other, he would have to burn the little book if he could, and if he could not, he’d pull it into the air and blast it with the shotgun. He would do this even if the men seizing his bounty might shoot him down for doing so.
He heard the padding of hooves coming up the pass. By his ear, he measured about six horses. He went to his knees and hugged the tree with one arm to steady himself as he keeked down the road. A hard-looking man rode in front of the party with his rifle drawn and eyes awake. The stagecoach behind him was wide and red, and the driver wore a yellow bowtie. A second rider followed closely behind. Jota had not mentioned the riders, but the gunslinger could not be surprised at the prudence to hire guns before traversing the mountains. He knew then that if he took action, either he, or the riders, or all, must perish. He made amends with the facts of the matter and resolved himself to shoot as he must. He would roll out from behind the tree and aim the shotgun from one knee and set his sights to the front rider’s throat. The natural rise of his aim would send the meat of the buckshot into the hard man’s face. Then he would cover quickly and recock his weapon before sighting the other rider, who may flee, or be so taken by the swiftness of the attack as to fall just as easily. Once the gun thunder had all faded, he would quell the driver and the passengers, collect his due, and let the stage go along in peace. The plodding and padding of the hooves was louder now and it was time.
The gunslinger rolled over and raised up onto one knee. He aimed at the front rider’s throat and pulled the trigger. The rider’s head disappeared into a frightful pink slurry. His corpse slung down painlessly as his horse reared up and screamed, then turned and fled back down the road. The terrible shrieks of women came from inside the coach. The gunslinger shucked the spent shell, retook position behind the tree, and lay flat once more. The driver halted the carriage as the second rider came around with his own shotgun drawn. The gunslinger peered around and sighted him, but the rider fired first. Huge flakes of wooden shrapnel exploded from the tree. The gunslinger ducked back and made himself thin behind the trunk. The raucous boom of that shot could not have come from anything less than an eight bore, a gauge larger than a man’s thumb. The rider fired a second thunderclap shot that shredded the ground-broken roots of the tree and sprayed moss into the air. The gunslinger stayed where he was and only listened for hints of the enemy’s movement. All in an instant, he heard the opponent’s gun snap-break open, two empty shells clink softly onto the road, two new slugs slide smoothly into their pipes, and the crisp clack of it all closing again. The enemy’s horse trotted nervously along the ridge in the thin space between the road and the steep, treelined edge. The rider dismounted and landed coolly on both feet. With one arm, he kept his weapon trained on the assailant in the brush, and with the other, he thwacked the horse’s croup to get it to move. And it did move, fleeing up the road and not stopping. With the path now clear, the driver seized his moment and whipped up the four horses carrying the coach. Then he whipped again, and a third time.
The gunslinger could not move. His enemy came towards him, unshaken, with fingers on both triggers. Twin bores of teeth-chilling metal. One quarter-second from oblivion. The rider focused the entire span of his mortal attention on the vision before him, so in that moment when the stagecoach came racing up the bend, he did not hear the frightful crash of the breaking wheels, nor the shrill of the driver’s scream, all coming like Hell behind him.
Then the mountain was peaceful. The gunslinger shouldered the shotgun and leapt up onto the road. He saw the man he’d shot—a body, trampled by hooves and wheels, but no face. He walked on. A few yards up the road, where the embankment dropped off sharply, the heft of the carriage and the fallen horses had cleared the smaller trees away, so the gunslinger could see the deep, open country beyond. Twenty yards down the slope, a caboodle of horse flesh and wood and iron was draped around an old blue spruce. All hung together like a pair of boots sharing a single bastard lace. There were the sounds of horses dying but nothing moved.
The gunslinger sat in the road and smoked. He listened until there was no more noise, which took the time of two cigarettes. Finally, he got to his feet, stepped to the edge of the slope, then sat down on his ass again. He pushed the heels of his boots into the ground and grabbed the stump of a fallen sapling. He slid down the bank in cautious spurts as his heels pressed shallow tracks into the ground, and his hands shuffled from one hold to the next. Finally, he stood on an embedded hillside rock positioned two yards above the wreckage. He looked into the broken stagecoach, searching for anything alive or shiny.
“Please. God, help me. Someone.” The voice was weak and girlish. “Help me.” The gunslinger closed his eyes and shook his wide head. The girl was sobbing now. “Mother. Oh my God, mother please. No.” Her cries were desperate, awful things that were the sounds of someone already dead, mourning themselves on the other side of infinity. The carriage groaned and shifted an inch towards the profoundness below.
“Miss!” the gunslinger shouted. “Miss! Hold still!”
“Who's that? Oh my God, mother!”
“Don’t move! Don’t even talk!”
“Please wake up, momma.”
“Stop movin’, and stop talkin’, or we will not be talkin’ much longer!” The gunslinger moved down and used the rock now as a handhold. He made a new foothold of the remains of a broken tree, and in this new position he felt secure. He was closer now, so he lowered his voice. “I’m goin’ to save you, ma’am. But I don’t know how close I can get- don’t say nothin’! And don’t move ‘til I say.” The girl’s jumpy breath stopped, then started again, and he knew she had understood him. The gunslinger reached his right leg out to test its length, but it was too short to meet the next strongpoint. He was as close as one could be without stepping onto the mangled side of the carriage itself. “Alright,” he said. “Climb out towards my voice. Move slowlike, with real light feet.”
“I can’t leave her.”
“Save yourself, little darling,” the gunslinger said. “That’s what your momma would say. Save yourself.” Silence spread across the mountain as the moments passed. Finally, a light clamor came from inside the coach, and the gunslinger saw a thin hand probing out of the rear window. “That’s it,” he said. “I can see you. Keep comin’ thataway. Slowlike.”
“Not slowlike,” the girl said as she moved. “Just slow.” Her words were mechanical, of an absent mind. Now half of her body was outside the carriage. She was thin and beautiful. She had a small, straightline gash on the crown of her head, as though a fifty cent piece had penetrated her skull. The thick split of skin spilled fresh blood into her hair.
“I’m here,” the gunslinger said. The girl looked up at him. Blood filtered through her hair and into her eyes, so she could not see the repentant look on the man’s face. He retested the security of his right foothold, then stretched his left leg down towards her.
“Agh!” she shouted, and looked down at herself.
“What happened?” he asked.
“It’s my neck. Or my arm, I don’t know. It hurts so bad.”
“Other hand. Reach up here.” She did as the gunslinger said and grasped his boot. “Take it off,” he said. “It won’t have you hangin’ on it.” The girl took the boot off and dropped it away. The gunslinger could smell his own stink. “The sock too,” he said. She stripped the sock off and let it fall. She reached back up and grabbed the top of his naked foot, the breadth of her hand scarcely wide enough to find its grip. “You got me?” he asked.
“Yes.”
“Hold it.” The gunslinger drove his knee up towards his chest. He grasped the handholds and his long, cruddy fingernails turned white. The girl leveraged her green silk shoes into the face of the hill and moiled her legs up, up, and up again. The gunslinger seized her arm and pulled her up into his chest. Her right clavicle was broken clean across. A dark blue bruise was climbing up her neck and down her breast. A silver necklace with a white diamond centerstone sat disarranged over her drooping shoulder.
The gunslinger began upon the hours of gradual climbing that waited for him above. Through it all, the stagecoach remained fastened to the mountain. It would have rested there until nature itself faded to sawdust…
He laid the girl on the ground beside the heap of his ultimate campfire. He went to the horse and dug out his last clean shirt from the saddle bag. Whinnie’s coat blushed the mountain dusk. She was hungry. She wanted to be brushed, and she wanted to be sung to as she was brushed, all for the pleasure of it. But there came no food. There was no brushing, nor any of her rider’s soft songs. She staggered and nickered restlessly in the absence of these attentions. The gunslinger took his knife and cut away the top half of his spare shirt. He sat the girl upright and wrapped her head twice around, from jaw to meridian. He knotted the shirt sleeves under her chin like tying a headscarf. He took off his outer jacket and put it over the girl’s shoulder, then tied the jacket also by its sleeves. He fashioned a sling from the bottom half of the shirt he had cut. He untied the coat, strapped the sling under the girl’s injured arm and over her good shoulder, then put the coat on her again. Finally, he tended the horse as dusk fell to night.
An hour passed and perhaps the girl did not blink but twenty times in that span. The gunslinger fed her sips of liquor from his hand. She took the drinks silently, seeming to be unaware she was taking them at all. The man gave her fifteen sips, and took as many drinks for himself, until only three fingers of liquor remained in the bottle. In the night, they were both drunk before the fire. “You killed my momma,” the girl said suddenly, and without moving. The tightness of the headwrap prevented the complete articulation of her mouth, so her words had dull edges, like things spoken after the dentist. “Hell take you for it.”
“I’m sorry, ma’am.”
“Hell take your sorries. I’ll send you to the Devil myself.”
“Man sends himself to Satan. No one else.”
“You’ll soon see. Why are we still here? I’m an injured party.”
“My horse can’t see the road at night.”
“Yes it can.”
“She can’t. We have to wait ‘til mornin’.”
“Then what will you do with me?”
“I’ll take you where you’re goin’.”
“To Trinidad?”
“The same.”
“How did you know where to find us?” she asked. The gunslinger did not reply. “Did someone tip us off? Who was it? Was it someone in Pueblo? I know everyone in Pueblo.” But again, the man said nothing. “Was it that wagtail bitch Lily what works at the hotel?”
“No,” he said finally. “All no.”
“You tell me,” she said. “They killed my momma just as much as you.” Then the girl began sobbing at the newest remembrance of her loss. The gunslinger leaned against the saddle on the ground next to the fire. I gotta wake this night through, he thought. I don’t know what a grieving girl is capable of. It was true; he did not know, and his interests were not in finding the answer this way. He heard the cries that fell out of her but tried not to listen to them. After a few minutes, the girl let out a deep, heaving wail, and vomited on herself. The man took out the very last item of spare clothing he had: a half-dirty pair of long underwear bottoms. He cleaned her off as well as he could, and as he did, they spoke.
“There’s bounty men near Trinidad,” the girl said, very drunk. “If you don’t kill me, and I don’t die before we get there, I’m going to put your picture up.”
“They got my picture up already.”
“Then there’ll be another one.”
“Already got another one.”
“Then I’ll just kill you.”
“You’re a rich lady.”
“Not rich! We’re normal, decent people!”
“You can’t buy pretty necklaces and yellowbelly coach drivers with decency.”
“You don’t understand anything. You’re a greedy, no-good, mongrel of a man.”
“So you see.”
“I’ll tell you. Fortune holds no sway over me. But if I was a rich lady, like you say, I’d kill you still. And I’d kill you mean. I’d kill you like how a man would.”
“We neither know the other,” he said as he cleaned the last of the filth from her. “We have it good that way.” He slung the soiled garment into the snowy darkness beyond the reach of the firelight. The stiffness in the girl’s frame died away as she slumped down to battle another wave of mourning, then cried for a while into a dizzy, fathomless sleep. The gunslinger waited and smoked for nearly another hour, then took out his notepad and pencil:
Dec 14 1868 Stage was my blunder Saved a girl Killed her mother 3 other men Girls hurt bad gone to the doctors She said Im gone to Hell maybe I am Will make sure shes safe then she can send me there as she says Saw the necklacepiece but would not rob it If she handed it to me would not take it Im the man killed her mother Thinking now on Jotas love story
Good man rode with a bad gang Good man loved the saloon owners daughter She saw the bad gang and run home Good man went after her He was a very fine man Daughter heard him at her door saying he loved her She thought him a scowndrul come along with bad men He wagered she come out but she did not He knocked and begged But she stayed in the house Shed aloved him if shed come out but she did not Saloon owner came and shot the good man dead Bad gang came and shot the rest of em to Hell Buried em all in one grave
He looked up from his writing and saw the girl, still unmoving. Shame dissolved into him. He rested the notepad on the ground and set the pencil beside it. He closed his eyes. He thought he should write something more about the horrors of his deeds, or that he should write anything at all to keep himself awake, but soon his thoughts led him into a guilty, drunken sleep.
The girl had not been sleeping. She was waiting in the cold night with her eyes closed and her feet very close to the fire. She moved like half frozen straw unbending itself and put the palm of her good hand on the ground, then rolled over onto her knees. In this way, she shuffled very deliberately for a quarter of an hour before she finally closed the gap between herself and gunslinger. She knew the shotgun was beneath his head, under the saddle. Once she had shot him, she would stoke the fire until it was huge and warm, then she would read what the man had written in his little book, knowing she had avenged her mother. But then she thought. What if he wakes? Did he unload the gun? Is he the only man that can save me out here? And then she thought of the man’s notepad. What if I read something that makes me regret killing this man? Am I a killer at all? Even a killer of bad men? She forgot the shotgun and sat on her heels. She looked at the man. He was sleeping with his legs crossed and arms at his sides, his body angled up like a bent finger. She picked up the notepad and the pencil and took them back around the firepit, quicker this time, all the way to the place where she rested before. If he’s a bad man, I’ll kill him, she thought. But I won’t bother with the gun. I’ll smash the bottle on his head and kick the fire on him. She read the little book back to front until it was finished, then she sat awake with her eyes closed, thinking of her mother.
In the first light of day, the gunslinger readied the horse. He was anxious for having fallen asleep, but grateful the girl was there, and that they were both alive. He looked at the girl's face, frosted red in the new morning, and the thin strands of black hair over her eyes like strings from spiders of another world. The gunslinger poured a sip of liquor into his hand and bent down to the girl. He wafted his palm under her tiny nose. “I know you’re gonna to wake up hurtin’. Let’s just get it in ya.” His voice, a father waking his daughter to attend Easter Day church service. The girl didn’t need to hear him. She had not slept. She had taken some time in the night to experiment with ways she could maneuver her injured shoulder without stirring the pain. She found those ways to be very few, but in her experimenting, she became accustomed to the particular nature of the pain, and now it bothered her very little. She lay, a stack of wasted thews in the dirt, playing as though the night’s alcohol had her sick. The gunslinger sucked the liquor from his hand, then fed the girl four handfuls of snow. She knew he was seeing past her farce, but once committed to the performance, she thought she should not abandon it. For the last few minutes before they rode out of camp, she steadily lowered the drama in her acting by allowing her features to awaken one at a time. Soon, however, real exhaustion settled in behind her eyes.
Now they were both on the horse, the gunslinger with one hand at the girl’s side to see she did not fall. He sensed her balance with the thick muscles in his back, and there, he felt the hard diamond pendant of her necklace between them. The girl cried softly, in shorter and shorter spans, each separated from the last by about five minutes, and soon she fell into a perfect dream of when she was young. Her father building a homestead in Pueblo with aid from the Freemasons of lodge seventeen. Day fifty of the project. Men putting copper nails into slate shingles to form a roof. At night, a big canvas tent, a black iron stove, and her mother knitting something brown. Chicken soup on boil. Her father sitting on a crate, reading from a small blue book with a gold diamond emblem on the cover. His lips moved silently as he read over the same passage many times. “Father,” she asked him. “How will you ever remember so many words?”
“With patience and focus," he said in his kind, easy voice.
“Can I help you get more patience and more focus?” she asked in juvenile earnest. She wanted all the time to help her family. Being useful to them was the most important thing to her.
“Leave your father be, Caroline,” her mother said without pausing her knitting. “He must pass his test to repay the debt we owe to the men who’ve helped us. And he has only the days left in this month to prepare.”
“Yes, ma’am,” the girl said. Her mother was going to say something more, to give the girl some menial, well-intended distraction to go out with, but before she could speak, the girl awoke in Trinidad, in the bronze light of early evening.
“Ma’am, we’ve made it to the doctor’s,” the gunslinger said as he dismounted, still keeping one hand at the girl’s side, then taking her by the waist to let her down. Her face turned sour as she relived the events of the day past, but she did not cry. The gunslinger led her into the doctor’s building. He waited outside and smoked as she was inspected. The sun drew down, and he heard the sounds of brass music and women singing somewhere in the town. He finished his third cigarette. I’m sick of smoking, he thought, then touched his jacket pocket for the notepad, but did not feel it there. His hands shook as his mind swelled with a haunted, spectral feeling, like a man who had forgotten to do something very important, now remembering exactly what it was he failed to do. His fractured lips hung open and his vacant eyes did not distinguish the sights before him. Blue spaces beneath his eyes where he stored his self contempt. In his mind, he felt only the screams of the women in the stagecoach. He knew the final farewell between the girl and her mother had been one of confusion and suffering, whereas the lives they shared must have been full of love and joy. But those lives would be no more. The life of the mother, forever extinguished. The life of the daughter, forever sickened. And his reflection of their lives, forever unpolished, truthfully, never having been drawn out.
The girl and the gunslinger stood in the orange mountain dusk. She wore the doctor’s spare medical coat with only her good arm inside its sleeve. A leather sling fondled her arm and kept it tucked under her small chest. White bandages wrapped neatly about her head. She looked at the soiled man and examined his corpus to record him precisely in her mind. He was a pitiful thing, dressed in black rags stained gray from sweat. The hairs on his cheeks were longer now, like bunches of white hypodermic needles. He stood teetering and slouching into himself like an exhausted horse. His lips were almost white. Every inch of him contributed to his foul smell. His eyes were fixed on the frozen mud street, as though there was something down there that he loved and needed. He was not a tall man, but now he seemed even smaller than she, a girl of just sixteen years. She closed her eyes and squeezed soft tears from them. And there they stood, neither looking at the other, but feeling one another’s presence as tightly as stitches. The girl wiped her face with the sleeve on her good arm.
“What’s your name, mister?” she asked. He did not reply nor seem to hear her question at all. “It’s a beautiful evening,” she said. The gunslinger looked west down the road.
“It is,” he said finally, then his gaze dropped to the mud again.
“I’m going to speak with the sheriff now,” she told him. Again, the gunslinger said nothing. She turned away and stood, breathing softly into the wind. After a minute, she faced him again. She took the notepad from her pocket, placed it in his down-turned hand, and closed his fingers around it. The doctor’s coat nearly fell from her shoulders. She reached back to pull it on again. The gunslinger looked at the notepad, then at the small, soft hand that had put it there.
“Thank you, ma’am.”
The girl sprung her good arm forward and bashed the gunslinger on the nose. There was a splintery break as the nose bent and cowered away like a beat dog. This time, the coat did fall from her shoulders, and down into the street. When struck, the man did not stumble or sway, but only closed his eyes. The girl turned and walked, almost running, stamping over the fallen coat and crying out every tear she had left. The gunslinger’s body lost all connectedness. His knees drove holes through the topshell of frozen mud, then he fell forward onto his face. He mewled and wailed pathetically. His cries hacked and bubbled out of him like a boy weeping in a dream, like a man who had never cried before and was just teaching himself how. Tears, blood, and drivel soaked the place where his head lay, and soon there was mud all about his face and mouth, his mind drowning in the anguish of guilt.
“Miss, can you tell me what’s going on?” the sheriff asked the crying girl sitting in his office. He looked at her kindly, taking note of her injuries. He sat down next to her. “Where’s the son of a bitch that hurt you? You tell me, and my men and I will bring that bastard in to face the justice that’s coming to him.” The girl raised a finger to the sheriff. He waited patiently for her to compose herself. She took four deep, shaking breaths, then she spoke.
“My name is Caroline Bloomberg. My mother and I were on the road to Santa Fe to reunite with my father. Of course, we were robbed. I knew it would happen. I just knew it would. My momma… she’s gone. Everyone but me is gone. There was shooting. Loud, loud shots. The driver lost himself and took us right off the road.”
“I’m very sorry to hear this, ma’am.”
“We were so proud to be coming down here. Three months ago, my father went off to expand his business, and finally he wrote to tell us of his success. There was money to hire a stagecoach and men to guard us on the road. We could have brought the whole army, but my momma was raised to be frugal. She thought two riders and her old pistol would be enough to see us safely through.”
“Your mother sounds like a very strong woman. And your father, a good man.”
“They are. She was always strong. She always will be.”
“Did you get a look at the men who robbed you?”
“There was only one.”
“And he?” the sheriff asked. Behind him was a bulletin of bounty posters, and there was a picture of the gunslinger, wearing a clean face with bright eyes.
The girl looked for a while at the picture and at the other bounties posted. Finally, she shook her head. “My father also sent a secret allowance to the Masonic lodge in Pueblo, with instructions to deliver the money to me, so I could buy this.” She took the necklace out from under her shirt and showed it to the sheriff. “My father promised long ago that I should have it. Such a fool of a little girl. I could have hired the men we needed.” The sheriff nodded. He knew the scam—diamond brokers chatting up unsuspecting customers, then telling some local reprobate all about their business. The brokers bought the stolen jewelry back at a rate, and reset the gems into new hardware to disguise their crime. The sheriff thought not to mention these details to the girl, and he hoped she would never learn of the scheme at all.
“I have to ask, ma’am,” he said. “How was it that you were able to save yourself?”
“Just as you say,” she said. “I saved myself.”
Down the road, a crowd of drunkards and children gathered to watch the gunslinger as he seized in the muck. The tall doors of the barn next to the jailhouse flung open, and out came the police stableman to shoo the miscreants away and clear space for the cavalry. The sheriff lent his arm to the girl as they came outside and down the steps of the office building. Other officers filed out of the barn with lanterns fixed to their rifles, swinging their shines against the burgeoning dark. The sheriff helped the girl mount up on an unclaimed horse, then went to fetch his own. The stableman handed the sheriff his rifle and said something to him. The sheriff replied in a low voice that the girl could not hear, then he led a single line of mounted officers away down the frozen road. A moment later, they passed the crying man in the mud.
“Somebody get this drunk bastard out of the street,” the sheriff said. He could not have known the broken man below was in fact Theodore “Buckshot” Blake. His bounty, if seized, would have made the sheriff's career all the way to Lieutenant Colonel of the Colorado Rangers.
The girl now looked at this paltry man in the dirt. He was bent and turned so that she could not see his face. She remembered with satisfaction the feeling of his nose shattering against her hard little knuckles. She wondered if she was making a mistake by not handing the man over to the sheriff right then and there. She thought of the hanging that would ensue. Death might absolve the gunslinger’s soul, and she wanted so much to deprive him of that swift, honest conclusion. So the girl only looked away from the gunslinger, straightened her ladylike back, and rode with dignity, away and out of the town.
One of the drunkards came and kicked the gunslinger hard in the stomach; a brown-nosed effort to earn the good will of the sheriff. Then the gunslinger crawled. Despite his licks, his body was healthy. Yet, truly, it was a sick man that went skulking into the alleyway. Not a drunk, not a beggar, but a scoundrel. A repentant thing with a tattered notepad and only distant memories of love. He sat, leaning against the side of the doctor’s building, and opened the little book. On what he expected to be a clean page, there was written in a hand unlike his own:
Mister, you should thank God I’m not a killer. I could end your life now as you sleep. There is guilt and shame in the words I have read here. Even now your face looks as though it is full of shame. So I will not kill you. Knowing you are a man with a conscience, I will write some memories here so you may know just a small part of the pain you have put into the world.
My mother’s name was Gwyneth. The carriage driver’s name was Maximillian. The riders I did not know but from how they behaved I’m sure they were debaucherous men like yourself. Read those names and remember them. Is this the first time you have been confronted with such information? I hope that it is. I hope I am spoiling some cowardly tradition of yours.
The past days had been the best of my life before you took your action. I have never seen such wildlife as in the hills of Farista, or had such delicious stew as in the town lodge at Colorado City. Mother and I laughed and played bridge. She even allowed me one of her cigarettes each morning with our coffee.
Before your attack, we spoke of my father’s newfound wealth. My mother hoped money would not change the man she married. I assured her such a thing would be impossible. My father is a man of unimpeachable character. He builds great things from almost nothing, just as he built himself. I will see him again soon, but he will never again see his wife. They will never again do the things they did to bring me into this world. The honeymoon of their lives is over.
You will take me to Trinidad as you say. I know this is true because you hate yourself. You will help me so you might hate yourself less. Or maybe you will go on killing and hating as before, but there can be no doubt you will try. My mind is unclear now, but once I am sober I will decide what to do with you. If I am vengeful, you will suffer. If I am merciful, I imagine you will suffer the more.
Never yours, Caroline Jane Bloomberg, daughter of Gwyneth Hope Bloomberg
He put the little book down. She’s offered me a decision, he thought. A decision is more than a man like me deserves. Should I die to get away from my mistakes? Or should I live, and be with ’em forever? The gunslinger stood up and went to the place where he’d left Whinnie. He saw her coat glinting the last of the day’s light, and when she turned her noble head to nibble at his hands, the shine went away for a moment, but came back brighter on the other side. He stroked her flank and a few tan hairs stuck wet on his palm. “Oooh, sweet sweet,” he sang to her. “Oooh, sweet girl.” He took her by the halter and led her to the stables, where he sold the horse for one hundred dollars. Then he struck a second deal with the stableman to have a bath at his house for five of those dollars back…
Theodore Williams sat in a shady beach cabana with a glass of cherry wine. He watched his wife, Mary, dancing in the waves with her friends. Then the beach at night. Salt wind and talk of life’s fortunes. Splitting up to make love on the beach in pairs, some yards between each couple. The ocean, very loud. The waves, eerie, yet prophesied. Perhaps eerie because they are prophesied and each wave is a prophecy of death. Moonlight the only light in the twisted air. Theodore, a man disturbed by the taste of happiness and love, yearning for his natural end, unable to indulge what ought have been his greatest pleasure, but a man who, with each day that passed, was becoming closer to the thing he would have been. In the morning, he wrote:
Apr 1 1871 Mary wants me to write more The person this woman is She is beautiful The sand never all gets off her She reads poetry ‘Helen Hunt Jackson’ I have never done a poem I bite my hand when I think about doing it But I will write a poem for you my darling
BUCKSHOT BORDEREAU
On a lone farm in Kentucky A boy made friends with rocks Ma said to swears unlucky Pa said to clean your socks Eight teen hundred thirty seven That year was no good Took a flu on December eleven A bad day he understood Shotgun he heards the soil From sprouts a money tree Farmworks too much toil Hed rather eat for free She was down all underneath One evil by his hand She he saved to save him thus And show him his God’s plan
And he put the notepad and the pencil away.

"Frakes excels in action-packed stories like "Despite Yourself," bringing modern blockbuster influences to the action movie elements. [...] It was effectively Star Trek's version of the lift scene from Captain America: The Winter Soldier."
Mark Donaldson (ScreenRant)
Every Star Trek: Discovery Episode Directed By Jonathan Frakes, Ranked:
1 ) "Despite Yourself" (Disco 1x10)
TNG's Jonathan Frakes finally gets to visit the Mirror Universe.
Star Trek: Discovery, season 1, episode 10, "Despite Yourself" was Jonathan Frakes' first episode of a Trek show for two decades, and he brings a great deal of experience and new influences to bear. In particular, the fight scene between Captains Burnham and Connor inside the turbolift was a thrilling display of how Frakes brought modern movie and TV techniques to the fledgling Star Trek show. It was effectively Star Trek's version of the lift scene from Captain America: The Winter Soldier, and so Frakes decided to film it with five cameras positioned around the turbolift set.
Frakes also had a camera operator step inside the turbolift, which added to the cramped, tense feel of the fight scene between Burnham and Connor. Outside the impressive action scenes, actress Mary Chieffo was full of praise for Jonathan Frakes for how he pushed her and Shazad Latif to go further in the scene between Ly'Rell and Ash/Voq, to wring as much emotion as possible out of their confrontation. "Despite Yourself" was a bravura return to the Star Trek franchise for Jonathan Frakes, and it's no surprise that the Star Trek: Discovery team kept asking him back afterward.
2) "Project Daedalus" (Disco 2x9) [The death of Ariam]
First Contact and Wrath of Khan vibes made "Project Daedalus" an instant classic.
"Project Daedalus" is the strongest of Jonathan Frakes' two episodes from Star Trek: Discovery season 2. The episode has everything that audiences could possibly want from a dramatic hour of television. There are chilling revelations about Section 31 and their role in framing Spock (Ethan Peck) for murder, a rogue Artificial Intelligence waging war on humanity, and the heroic sacrifice of a crew member. The scenes where Burnham, Airiam, and Nahn explore the empty Section 31 base and discover the murdered crew members is chilling, and reminds viewers of Frakes' similarly atmospheric work on Star Trek: First Contact.
The tragic fate of Airiam in Discovery is handled sensitively by Frakes, who makes the decision to shoot her final scene with Burnham through slightly obscured airlock windows, drawing a comparison with the death of Captain Spock (Leonard Nimoy) in Star Trek II: The Wrath of Khan. Star Trek: Discovery season 2, episode 10, "Project Daedalus" is one of the standout episodes of the show, let alone the season, and much of this is down to Frakes' atmospheric direction. It was such a pivotal episode that foreknowledge of Airiam's death became a key aspect of Discovery season 5, episode 4, "Face the Strange".
Jonathan Frakes was originally hired to direct Star Trek: Discovery season 2, episode 10, "The Red Angel", but behind the scenes drama meant that he was assigned the previous episode instead.
3) "Lagrange Point" (Disco 5x9)
Jonathan Frakes went out on a high with Discovery's Breen heist.
Jonathan Frakes' final director credit on Star Trek: Discovery was a thrilling ride as Captain Burnham's away team infiltrated the Breen Dreadnought. There's tremendous tension in the scenes where the disguised crew have to impersonate Breen soldiers, desperate to fit in or die. The episode is a fitting farewell from Discovery to Jonathan Frakes as Commander Rayner references Commander Riker. Jonathan Frakes also suggested that actor Callum Keith Rennie do "a little Picard maneuver" when Rayner assumes the USS Discovery's center seat in the episode's climax.
The climactic scene where Rayner orders the USS Discovery to fire everything they've got while crashing into the Breen shuttle bay is a great movie-style moment for small-screen Star Trek. "Lagrange Point" is a strong example of what Jonathan Frakes does best as a Star Trek director, demonstrating his command of building dramatic tension and directing his actors to respond believably to huge VFX sequences that they cannot see. The end result is a thrilling Star Trek adventure that neatly sets up the Star Trek: Discovery finale.
4) New Eden (Disco 2x2)
New Eden felt like a classic TNG throwback.
In Star Trek: Discovery, season 2, episode 2, "New Eden", Captain Christopher Pike (Anson Mount) and the crew discover a multi-faith colony established by refugees from Earth's World War 3. However, centuries after their ancestors fled a nuclear holocaust, the colonists are put in the path of another one thanks to a radiation shower. "New Eden" is a classic Star Trek episode that tackles religion and morality, while forcing Pike and Burnham to consider the role of Starfleet's Prime Directive.
Jonathan Frakes is no stranger to the themes and tropes at the core of Star Trek: Discovery season 2, episode 2, "New Eden". For example, the evocative shots of the stained-glass windows are a masterful way to communicate the progress of the colony. However, Frakes is also keen to inject levity into the episode, working out a moment of comedy with Mary Wiseman that lightens the mood of "New Eden". The scene where Tilly runs out of sickbay in the wrong direction at a crucial point in the story was something devised by Jonathan Frakes as director.
5) People of Earth" (Disco 3x3)
The USS Discovery pays a visit to 32nd century Earth.
Jonathan Frakes is such a safe pair of hands as a Star Trek director that he's given the episode that introduces 32nd century Earth. In Star Trek: Discovery season 3, episode 3, "People of Earth", Burnham and the crew continue their investigation into the fate of the Federation by visiting Earth. The crew doesn't get a heroes' welcome and are instead forced to mediate a dispute between Earth and the Titan colony. It's an exciting episode that has some great spectacle, such as Burnham and Book's unauthorized mission to capture one of the Raiders, Wen (Christopher Heyerdahl).
As well as the space action, Jonathan Frakes handles the quieter moments in "People of Earth" beautifully. Star Trek: Discovery isn't really known for its dynamic location work, but Frakes and his DOP Crescenzo Notarile shoot the final scene on Earth with an appropriately nostalgic tint. The final scene where the Discovery crew discuss standing on the same ground 930 years apart is a poetic moment that is directed evocatively by Frakes.
"People of Earth" introduces Blu del Barrio as Adira Tal, a human being who is a Trill host. Jonathan Frakes' Commander William T. Riker was a human Trill host in the Star Trek: The Next Generation episode, "The Host".
6) There is a Tide... (Disco 3x12)
Jonathan Frakes directed part one of Star Trek: Discovery's season 3 finale.
"There is a Tide..." takes its name from Brutus' speech to Cassius in Julius Caesar , later recited by Admiral Jean-Luc Picard in the Star Trek: Picard finale.
With a starship under siege and a battle for the very future of the Federation at its core, Star Trek: Discovery season 3, episode 12, "There is a Tide..." is very much in Jonathan Frakes' wheelhouse as a director. One of many Star Trek episodes named after Shakespeare quotes, "There is a Tide..." sees Osyraa take control of the USS Discovery and head for Federation Headquarters. The penultimate episode of Discovery season 3 has a daring jailbreak, and climaxes with Commander Burnham ejecting Commander Paul Stamets (Anthony Rapp) into the vacuum of space to protect the spore drive.
Star Trek: Discovery season 3, episode 12, "There is a Tide..." is the sort of Star Trek action movie that Jonathan Frakes can direct in his sleep by this point. However, that's both a blessing and a curse, as there's nothing particularly new on display in the episode. Of the two episodes that formed Star Trek: Discovery's season 3 finale, "There is a Tide..." is the stronger one, but there are better examples of Jonathan Frakes' directorial work elsewhere in the series.
7) The Sanctuary (Disco 3x8)
The USS Discovery fights to save Book's planet from the Emerald Chain.
[...]
8) Stormy Weather (Disco 4x6)
Zora gains emotions as the Discovery explores the DMA.
In Star Trek: Discovery season 4, episode 6, "Stormy Weather", the USS Discovery becomes trapped inside a tear in subspace. While trying to figure a way out, something begins eating away at the Discovery's shields, while Cleveland Booker (David Ajala) is forced to confront a malevolent hallucination of his father. "Stormy Weather" should be a claustrophobic chamber piece for the Star Trek: Discovery cast, but it feels too ponderous and meandering. There's simply too much going on in the episode that detracts from what could have been an eerie Star Trek story about understanding the unknown.
The emotional crisis of Zora (Annabelle Wallis), Book's trauma, and Gray Tal (Ian Alexander) coming to terms with their new synthetic body, the strong Star Trek story at the core is completely drowned out. It's fair to say that Jonathan Frakes excels as a director in action-packed stories like Star Trek: First Contact, but Star Trek: Discovery season 4, episode 6, "Stormy Weather" isn't that sort of story. The failings are down to an overstuffed script, however, as Frakes builds an unsettling and tense atmosphere as the Discovery crew begin to doubt whether they'll make it out alive.
Zora's emotional crisis echoes how Lt. Commander Data (Brent Spiner) was paralyzed by fear in Star Trek Generations .
[...]
Between 1990 and 1995, Jonathan Frakes directed 14 episodes of televised Star Trek, before moving into the movies, directing both Star Trek: First Contact and Star Trek: Insurrection. 22 years later, Frakes returned to TV Trek to direct Discovery season 1, episode 10, "Despite Yourself".
Since then, Jonathan Frakes has racked up an impressive 15 more credits, directing episodes of all the live-action Star Trek shows of the modern era. Over half of these 15 credits are taken up by Star Trek: Discovery, as Frakes has directed at least one episode for each of its five seasons. Discovery season 5, episode 9, "Lagrange Point", written by Sean Cochran and Ari Friedman, is Jonathan Frakes' final entry in the series. [...]"
Mark Donaldson (ScreenRant)
Link:
https://screenrant.com/every-star-trek-discovery-episode-directed-by-jonathan-frakes-ranked-worst-to-best/

1944, 6th June, D Day H Hour my great uncle Albert Kemper landed on Omaha Beach with the 26th Infantry Division.
1941 to 1980s My Paternal Grandfather Howard Belford served in the US Army Special Transportation Battalion Military Police
1952 to 1975 My uncle Lt Richard Belford served with the US Air Force in Korea and Vietnam
1965 to Desert Storm
My uncle Robert Belford served in the US Navy as a Damage controlman ( bosuns mate 2nd class) in Vietnam( served on riverine squadron as well), the Cuban missle crisis, the uss Pueblo incident, 1st gulf war
1917 europe
My great grandfather served with the 117th Pennsylvania National Guard , part of the lost Battalion incident, the 117th went into the wood 2,000 strong, came out with only 200 men, he survived the war only to be crushed in a mine collapse his first day back in the mine, he died of pneumonia on a door in the infirmary 2 months later

Exciting opportunities await Indian students considering higher education abroad, particularly in the United States, even amidst the renowned prestige of institutions like the IITs and NITs.
Here's why studying in the US is capturing the attention of many:
Global Recognition: While India's top institutions shine domestically, the global acclaim of leading American universities opens doors to international career prospects, offering students broader horizons.
Program Diversity: US universities boast a rich list of programs, empowering students to tailor their education to their passions and career aspirations, ensuring a fulfilling academic journey.
Internship Integration: Hands-on experience is pivotal, and US universities embed internships into their curriculum, fostering industry connections and practical skills that enrich students' profiles and bolster their professional journey.
Holistic Admissions: Unlike the sole focus on exam scores in India, US universities assess students holistically, considering extracurriculars, leadership, and personal achievements, providing a fairer evaluation of potential.
Alumni Networks: With robust alumni networks and frequent networking events, American universities offer invaluable opportunities for students to engage with industry professionals, gain insights, and expand their career prospects.
Career Growth: The US's dynamic technological landscape nurtures innovation and career growth, offering a myriad of avenues for students to excel and thrive in their chosen fields, which may not be as abundant in India.
In essence, while India's esteemed institutions hold merit, the allure of US education lies in its global prestige, diverse educational pathways, practical learning opportunities, holistic admissions approach, strong alumni connections, and vibrant career prospects. These factors collectively propel Indian students towards pursuing higher education in the US, promising a transformative educational experience

Bhai yrr ye log kya karte hai, like kal tak normal batte paper me kya kya karenge discussion (just like before every exam)
Fir pata chlta hai wo 26 may ko subh 4:55 par ghar ka CCTV band karta hai aur apne ghar ka wo peeche wale road se nikal leta hai(luckily neighbors ke CCTV me capture ho Gaya)
Usne apne sath 2 set of kapade, ek laptop ,2 phone ,1 iPad lekar gaya hai
Aunty se meri baat hui unhone police ko complain kar diya ha par wo bol rahe the self harm nhi karega since kuch luggage lekar gaya hai, isliye seriously nhi le rahe
Aur meri usse daily baat hoti thi bnda chill tha like exam ka darr sabhi ko hota hai waise hi tha but eisa kuch excess nhi tha
Pata nhi yrr (kisi ko kuch idea hai kidhar ya kaise track ho skta hai wo)

Part 1
Part 2
Part 3
We got into the car without hesitation. The car started speeding towards the exit while the armed men shot at us.
I looked at the mirror and saw the driver was wearing a badge with a name on it.
"Daniela Sanchez........DS?" I asked
"Yes , I'm the one who sent you that message" She replied
"I don't really wanna interrupt but you guys should look back" said Jason in a terrified voice.
I looked back and there it was , Dave was on the UDA building. It then jumped towards us and hit the ground hard , But that didn't stop it from chasing us.
"SPEED UP!" I yelled at Daniela.
The car then sped up and went through the exit breaking through the closed gates.
"Is that thing still chasing us?" Daniela asked
Jason and I looked back and there it was , Using its arms to launch itself towards the car.
"It's still after us , It's bad at changing direction so you need to change directions fast" said Jason.
Dave almost caught up to us , But the car suddenly made a sharp right turn. Dave didn't turn in time and crashed into a tree.
"I thought you lost it" I asked Jason
"I did , I don't know how it found us again" Jason replied
"Wait , Could it be that......" I thought to myself
"Bad news guys , There's no more turns" Daniela interrupted my thinking.
There were no more turns and Dave got up and started getting closer again. It extended two of its arms and grabbed the back of the car. It was now stuck on the car.
"TRACEY DO SOMETHING!" Jason yelled at me.
I looked out of the window , It was slowly reducing its arms length to get close to us. I turned my left arm into a blade and cut it off.
Now Dave only had 2 arms , It was much slower in chasing us but fast enough to catch up soon.
"Take off your clothes" I said to Jason
"Uhh don't you think that's a bit inappropriate, especially in this situation?" Jason replied looking at me weirdly.
"Just do it" I said to him.
"Geez There's a woman here you know" he replied.
"Fine, Keep your underwear and give me the knife you have." I said
He reluctantly followed my instructions. I wrapped the knife in his clothes and threw it out of the window.
"Hey what are you thinking-" Jason stopped amidst speaking while looking back.
Dave had gone towards his clothes and stopped chasing us.
"Dave found us using your and the egg's smell , That should keep it off us for now" I explained.
"Here , Use this perfume to hide the smell" Daniela said as she handed me a perfume.
I used the perfume on Jason until nothing but the scent of the perfume could be smelled.
"So explain to us , Who are you and why are you helping us?" Jason asked Daniela.
"Well my name is Daniela Sanchez , I'm an UDA employee. That weird thing chasing us-" She said .
"Dave" Jason and I interrupted her together.
"Well Dave got out of his cell due to Jason breaking in and letting it out" she said.
"I was just curious!" Jason tried to defend himself.
"Anyways , Dave attacked me and my friend. Dave picked her up , Opened his mouth and opened her mouth wide. Then it put some red goo into her mouth to mouth which made her become that weird egg." She continued.
"I'm so sorry , But I had to kill her." Jason said in an apologetic tone.
"It's ok , It's not like she was her or even human anymore." Daniela reassured him.
I wondered if that's what Dave was trying to do to me too.
"Then suddenly UDA turned it's focus on finding you two instead of protecting the people which made me suspicious of their true intentions, Hence I sent Tracey that message." She said.
"How did you know I'd check that e-mail address?" I asked her.
"I didn't , I just found your old email and hoped for the best." she replied.
Jason jumped in front and put an address 4 hours away into the GPS.
"We're going there." Jason announced.
"What's there?" Daniela and I asked.
"The pendrive" Jason replied.
4 hours later
We reached a wood cabin , Jason welcomed us inside.
"Please wait here while I get myself some clothes" Jason said to us.
We sat on the table and Jason went inside. He soon came out with a pendrive and 2 glasses of juice in his hand.
"I'll answer your questions, So ask me anything" he said as he sat down.
"Also you guys are probably exhausted so drink some juice" he said while putting the glass in front of us.
Daniela took a sip but I had to know what was going on first.
"What is Dave?" I asked.
"Didn't I tell you already? He's the result of injecting Unnatural DNA into a human named Dave." Jason replied.
"Why would UDA do that?" Daniela asked.
"Because that's their purpose" Jason replied.
We both looked at him confused.
"Project Unnatural Super Soldiers aka Project USS aims to make soldiers with supernatural abilities by mixing human and Unnatural DNA" Jason explained.
"Like me?" I interrupted.
"Imagine the power of your arm across the whole body , So stronger than you" he replied.
"Unnatural Detainment Association is just a cover for the public . The rules' true purpose is not to protect the people, But to help them capture Unnaturals so that they can research them and create war weapons. The true meaning of UDA is Unnatural Destructive Armory." Jason explained .
"Wait so the whole point of UDA is to make war weapons to take over the world or something?" I asked him.
"Exactly" Jason replied.
"I'm going to join the UNF" Jason announced.
"What?" I said.
"Take this , I don't want you to be tracking me after all." Jason said as he tossed the phone I gave him to me.
I was taken aback . I did not expect this at all.
"Tracey you won't get it. You're neither human nor Unnatural. You belong neither in the current world nor in the new world , Yet somehow you belong in both." Jason said.
"What're you trying to say?" I asked him.
"I'm leaving with the pendrive to join the UNF" Jason said as he stood up to leave.
"And you think I'll just let you leave?" I said as I turned my arm into a blade.
"Daniela hasn't been speaking for a while now , Hasn't she?" He pointed out.
I looked at Daniela , She was unconscious with bubbles coming from her mouth.
"The juice was poisoned , Ofcourse your investigator instincts saved you." He said.
"Are you seriously killing her?" I asked him furiously.
"No , I'm giving you a choice." Jason explained.
"You can either chase after me and let her die or get the antidote from the kitchen cabinet to save her." He said.
The pendrive is important, But so is her life. I didn't know what to do. Jason turned around and started walking towards the door.
"You know I've always wondered if that arm is the only monstrous part of you. The rest of you......is it still human or not?" He said as he went through the door.
Go after Jason
The woman is useless now
GO GET THE PENDRIVE
I ran towards.......the kitchen to get the antidote.
Fool
I got the antidote and injected it into Daniela. The bubbles from her mouth stopped , Jason didn't lie about the antidote atleast.
I then went outside looking for Jason , But he and the car were gone.

Battle Pass Name: Changing Tide
Lvl 38 Reward: ASU-57P RUS/Rank III/BR 4.3-4.7 {premium}
The amphibious version of everyone’s favorite post-war Russian rat light tank/tank destroyer. A definite surprise for the lower ranks.
Lvl 51 Reward: Saunders-Roe SR.A/1 GBRank IV/BR 6.7 {[FREE] premium}
Imagine a jet that can capture points in naval battles, damage/sink ships, and shoot down planes. Well this plane can do all of the above being a jet flying boat fighter.
Lvl 75 Reward: USS Wichita (CA-45) USA/Rank V/BR 6.0 {premium}
Imagine a USS New Orleans but on a modified/up-armored USS Brooklyn hull. This heavy cruiser basically has the whole package minus torpedoes which is normal for a lot of USN CAs.
Decals: USN SEABEES, North Korean Naval Seal, 810 Naval Air Squadron, and Israel Submarine Forces
3D Decorations: Hurricane Aircat (bluewater decoration), Float Spitfire (bluewater decoration), Mk.2 81mm naval mortar(coastal decoration), and QBS-06 Aquatic Assault Rifle (tank decoration)
Profile Pic: Captain Thaddeus A. Thompson

WARBONDS SHOP:

• Rentals (168 hours/7 days/1 week): USS Douglas, Karlsruhe, Kerch (1953), HMS Whitby, Akebono, RN Leonardo da Vinci, Courbet, Sho’t Kal Dalet, Mi-28A (SWE), and Shenyang F-5
  
• Low-Rank Vehicle to get: PT-174, HMS Jervis, Geniere, and the Strv m/41 S-I
  
• High-Rank Vehicle to get: VS-8, MBK pr.186 (MK 85), IJN Yubari, and the AD-4NA
  
• New Talisman Boxes: Random Talisman on a Naval Vessel of Rank I-III and Random Talisman on a Naval Vessel of Rank IV-VI.
  

BATTLE TROPHY CHEST:

At lvl 80 in the Battle Pass the Battle Trophy Chest will be available again!
lvl 80 is a free level for all Battle Pass participants.
At the very least you are guaranteed to win a vessel from a previous Battle Pass (if you win a vessel or some other vehicle that you already have then you get to choose to turn it into a coupon or get a free re-roll).
Other items that you can win in the Battle Trophy Chest and their rarity:

• A vessel from a previous Battle Pass with additional wagers added to its package (2nd least rare)
  
• A vessel from a previous Battle Pass with additional silver lions added to its package (3rd least rare)
  
• A vessel from a previous Battle Pass with additional Premium Time or Golden Eagles added to its package (4th least rare)
  
• A plane or tank from a previous Battle Pass (5th least rare)
  
• A vessel from a previous non-Battle Pass Event {Operation, Crafting, World War Mode, etc.} (The most rare)
  

Thoughts on all of this? Please don’t skip it if it ever comes tank and aviation mains!!

Not WoWS related, but this (condensed) story of the U-505 is incredibly cool to me, for any history lovers out there. U-505 was a moderately successful U-boat during WW2. On it's 10th patrol, the captain committed suicide during a severe depth charge attack. This lowered morale to the point where, on its 12th patrol, the ship was badly damaged by attacks and surfaced, and the crew was lax in opening the sea-valves and setting demo charges to scuttle her. Sailors from the DD USS Pillsbury boarded her, closed the valves and disarmed the charges, but there wasn't enough juice in the batteries to pump her out, so the sailors took her under tow to bring her back. As she was towed through the water, the propellers spun and charged the batteries, allowing her to pump out the rest of the water. She was then taken over, painted as a US Sub and called the "USS Nemo". To keep the secret that we had captured the Enigma Machines and code books, the Red Cross was never informed of the crews capture, they were sent to a private POW camp manned by college baseball players, and learned to play a lot of baseball before they were sent back to Germany in 1947. The Sub itself was donated to a museum in Chicago, but was stripped of almost all equipment and in poor condition. The museum wrote to the original German builders, asking for parts for the restoration, and the companies sent them for no charge, saying that they wanted the sub to be "a credit to German technology". She can be seen today at the Chicago's Museum of Science and Industry).

As an undergraduate, I undertook a dissertation from about January-March 2023 that led me to uncover insights into the defence spending of China compared to the US. Motivated by a desire to explore beyond the surface figures, I applied a military-focused PPP factor, as discussed in Robertson (2021), to the defence budgets of several nations. This analytical approach revealed that when adjusted for military purchasing power, China's defence budget is potentially on par with that of the US. Months after completing my dissertation, similar findings began appearing in reports from other institutions, affirming the relevance and timing of my research. I'm sharing this on Reddit not just to highlight my findings but also to demonstrate the impact and validity of thorough academic work at the undergraduate level.
Body:
While the scale of US defence spending frequently dominates discussions, an analysis employing a military-focused Purchasing Power Parity (PPP) factor offers a different perspective. For my undergraduate dissertation, I used the methodology from Robertson (2021) to adjust the defence budgets of several nations, including China.
Recent data from the Stockholm International Peace Research Institute (2022) underscores the significant growth of China’s defence budget. However, when this data is adjusted using a military-focused PPP, the gap between China and the US narrows considerably.
It’s crucial to highlight that this analysis only covers the official PLA (People's Liberation Army) budget. It does not account for additional obscured expenditures and paramilitary forces, which total in the hundreds of billions. Including these figures would likely show that China’s total defence spending could be on par with, or even exceed, that of the US.
This finding, derived months before similar reports from other channels, demonstrates the innovative analytical approaches developed during my undergraduate studies and their relevance to current geopolitical discussions.
Charts 1 and 2 with market rate, and military PPP adjusted defence spending for USA, China, Russia, and the UK as of 2021

1. Military PPP Adjusted: This graph shows defence spending adjusted by a military-specific PPP, which accounts for the differences in purchasing power across countries specific to military expenditure. The adjusted values suggest that while the US still spends more on defence, the gap between the US and China is considerably less when accounting for what each country can buy militarily with their budgets. China's spending appears much closer to that of the US, highlighting its growing military capabilities relative to the US dollar.
2. Market Rate Conversion: This chart uses standard market exchange rates to convert defence spending into US dollars. This method typically reflects the international exchange rate environment but may not accurately represent the real purchasing power of a country's military budget. Here, the US's spending significantly outpaces that of China, Russia, and the UK, illustrating the traditional view of US military budget dominance.

Together, these charts provide a comprehensive view of how defence spending comparisons can vary significantly depending on the conversion method used. The Military PPP adjusted chart offers a perspective that considers how much military capability each dollar actually buys, which is crucial for understanding the practical implications of defence spending. In contrast, the Market Rate Conversion chart gives a more straightforward comparison but might not fully capture the effective military power a budget provides.
This analysis is essential for understanding not just the nominal figures of defence budgets but their actual impact and capability on a global scale, highlighting the strategic financial power countries hold when adjusted for real-world military purchasing power.
Robertson, P., 2021. Debating defence budgets: Why military purchasing power parity matters. [Online] Available at: https://cepr.org/voxeu/columns/debating-defence-budgets-why-military-purchasing-power-parity-matters [Accessed 21 March 2023].
Robertson, P., 2021. The Real Military Balance: International Comparisons of Defense Spending. Review of Income and Wealth, 42(2), pp. 385-394.

"Audiences can think whatever they'd like about The Final Frontier, but Kirk asking "Excuse me? What does God need with a starship?" is one of the most memorable Star Trek lines of all time. [...]
The film has its charms, which stand out much more clearly when audiences realize that Kirk, Spock and Doctor McCoy didn't actually meet "God" on Sha Ka Ree.[...]
[Roddenberry] was an atheist, and an allegory he wanted to put in Star Trek was that the concept of gods came from simple human misunderstanding of scientific concepts. Sure, some of those concepts were things like "Where does the sun go at night." Yet, as his friend Arthur C. Clarke posited: "Any significantly advanced technology is indistinguishable from magic."
Joshua M. Patton (CBR. com)
Link:
https://www.cbr.com/star-trek-v-god-captain-kirk-explained/
Quotes:
CBR: "Of course, there is a lot that is polarizing about Star Trek V, as it's seen as a low point in the storied film franchise. Yet, even with the appreciation of Marvel Studios' CEO Kevin Feige, it's called Star Trek's worst movie. There are many reasons for this, however, as Shatner's direction is not entirely to blame. There was also a more controversial message in the film than the previous entry's "don't murder whales." Still, the film has its charms, which stand out much more clearly when audiences realize that Kirk, Spock and Doctor McCoy didn't actually meet "God" on Sha Ka Ree.
Visionary Star Trek creator Gene Roddenberry always wanted his crew to meet God. There are signs of this throughout the previous iterations of Star Trek, from The Original Series to the pilot of Star Trek: The Next Generation. Roddenberry had a vision of a united world that put war, poverty and religious extremism behind them and looked to the stars. He was an atheist, and an allegory he wanted to put in Star Trek was that the concept of gods came from simple human misunderstanding of scientific concepts. Sure, some of those concepts were things like "Where does the sun go at night." Yet, as his friend Arthur C. Clarke posited: "Any significantly advanced technology is indistinguishable from magic."
In the Star Trek: The Original Series episode "Who Mourns for Adonais," the USS Enterprise is stopped by a powerful alien claiming to be the god Apollo. In the episode, he tells the crew the other aliens who inspired the Greek Gods moved on to a higher plane. Yet, he waited for humans to find him and start worshipping him again. In Star Trek: The Animated Series, two episodes dealt with this. In "The Magicks of Megas-Tu," a proposed story about meeting God became a story about the Enterprise meeting the alien who was the source of the Devil myths, and Kirk defended him. The Emmy-winning Star Trek: TAS episode, "Sharper Than a Serpent's Tooth" introduced K'ul'ulkan as an alien being also encountered by the Enterprise.
This continued into the feature film era. The story Roddenberry most wanted to tell on the big screen was put into script form with the working title The God Thing. Another lost Star Trek movie called Planet of the Titans had nothing to do with Roddenberry, but would've sent Kirk and the crew back in time where they became the basis for the Greek Gods on Mount Olympus. There are many attempts to use the Star Trek characters to make the argument that humanity's myths about gods could've simply been born from extraterrestrial contact from before society had the vocabulary for such things.
Ironically, Gene Roddenberry hated The Final Frontier when it was set to be released. In the book The Fifty-Year Mission - The First 25 Years by Edward Gross and Mark A Altman, many speculate he didn't like the idea of the story being told without him writing the script. The other problem he had with the film was Sybok. Not because he was Spock's secret brother, but rather because Sybok's "Share your pain" gimmick won over the members of the crew like Sulu, Uhura, Chekov and even Doctor McCoy. Yet, it's that very detail that proves the God of Sha Ka Ree was not the actual God. He likely never even made it to Earth.
The story itself was inspired by the 1980s televangelists who used hokey gimmicks and tricks to con people out of their money. Sybok, however, wasn't that cynical. He believed he had been in communication with God. His ability to win over people to his side by asking them to share their pain, was likely because of his Vulcan telepathic abilities combined with his full embrace of emotion. Perhaps because this being was powerful and in pain, it reached Sybok and enticed him to capture a starship to push past the barrier around the planet, so it could be freed. If this being was the source of any of Earth's mythology, it was likely the Old Testament-style God, full of wrath, destruction and a need to be praised.
Audiences can think whatever they'd like about The Final Frontier, but Kirk asking "Excuse me? What does God need with a starship?" is one of the most memorable Star Trek lines of all time. The being on Sha Ka Ree was clearly imprisoned there for some kind of galactic crime. Perhaps an advanced civilization trapped him there to protect developing worlds, or perhaps this being was incarcerated by his equally powerful kin. Similar to Apollo (who chose to stay) and the beings from "Who Mourns for Adonais?", it seems like the God of Sha Ka Ree was being punished. Either way, it was seemingly destroyed by a few choice shots from a Klingon Bird of Prey, making him a sorry example of even alien divinity. [...]
Throughout the [current] season, the USS Discovery is assembling clues left by a group of 24th Century scientists who found more evidence of the Progenitors and their technology. Because Starfleet was at war with the Dominion, they hid this discovery until a time when the galaxy was at peace. If the USS Discovery finds this technology, that will be the closest Star Trek has gotten to actually unveiling the true creator of humanity. As Roddenberry always intended, it wasn't some omniscient, supernatural being, but rather an advanced race of "people" who had technology indistinguishable from magic."

FYI, this is a story COLLECTION. Lots of standalones technically. So, you can basically start to read at any chapter, no pre-read of the other chapters needed technically (other than maybe getting better descriptions of characters than: Adam Vir=human, Krill=antlike alien, Sunny=tall alien, Conn=telepathic alien). The numbers are (mostly) only for organization of posts and continuity.
OC Written by Charlie Stastarrfallknightrise,
Typed up and then posted here by me.
Proofreading and language check for some chapters by u/Finbar9800 u/BakeGullible9975 u/Didnotseemecomein and u/medium_jock
Future Lore and fact check done by me.
*Starts to cry* I am so so happy! Isn’t that great? Finally some good news and great things to go forward!
Previous First Next
Want to find a specific one, see the whole list or check fanart?
Here is the link to the master-post.
Breaking News tonight from the Apollo 11 memorial landing site, as Admiral Adam Vir and Captains Warren Richards and Mary Chavez were rescued from the Pacific Ocean, following a journey that was supposed to be historical, turned harrowing. Amy Grey comes to us this morning with the story.
Thank you Julie, it was only a week ago here on the historic Cape Canaveral launch site, that the reconstructed Saturn V rocket was launched by the UNSC International Space and Aeronautics Division on the two thousand and fifty first anniversary of the original Apollo 11 mission. On board The reconstructed rocket were astronauts Fleet Admiral Adam Vir, head of the UNSC deep space exploration division, Captain Warren Richards five year veteran and historical aeronautics expert, and Mary Chavez, six year shuttle pilot veteran, and communications specialist.
The reconstructed Saturn V rocket took off thirty minutes behind schedule at 10:03 GMT July 16 after delays attributed to engineering standbys. However, reports by UNSC investigation early this morning indicate that the delays were called for by engineering head Jade Clein who noticed something strange during her final checks of the Saturn V recreated rocket.
In an interview early today, flight director, Aaliyah Seif of the Apollo re-creation mission informed outlets that there was evidence of attempted tampering on the hull of the Saturn V rocket. The tampering case in the shape of these small silver tape strips covering loosened bolts along one of the Saturn V side panels. Engineers stated that the tape was not heat resistant and would have burned off in time to rattle the bolts loose and, likely, cause a devastating spin that would destroy the rocket.
While this attempted tampering was thwarted, the mission would only become more dire. A sudden and shocking report by Mericanda News 5 showed an uncut image of an unknown alien hybrid woman claiming that the UN President had ordered the attempted assassination of Admiral Vir, in conjunction with an audio recording by Admiral Colter Massie, Head of the Galactic intelligence division and known isolationist, that admitted to the attempted assassination of Admiral Vir, and the acquisition of twenty Thunderhawk’s, which were used to harry the Saturn V on its way to the moon. Admiral Kelly, longtime friend of Admiral Vir, corroborated the story, saying she caught General Massie just after he ordered the deployment of the twenty Thunderhawk’s. During their conversion, he attempted to kill her, before being detained by two members of Admiral Vir's crew, and was later seen being escorted into custody by Military Police.
Indeed, footage has been captured from the hull of the Saturn V, showing approximately twenty Thunderhawk’s attempting to destroy the rocket while Rundi remote piloted drones and an unknown group of what appear to be racing jets, fought back to delay the attack, while word was sent to the UNSC to deploy F-90 Darkfire pilots to assist. This all after communications between Houston and the rocket were sabotaged shortly after leaving orbit. The F-90 Darkfire pilots were able to arrive on time to rescue the rocket, though a hole was reportedly torn in the hull, sucking Admiral Vir out into space. Luckily, he was later recovered and returned to his ship without any injuries. Patch teams were then able to repair the torn hull and the astronauts completed their mission landing to crowds on the moon and returning to earth on time, landing in the Pacific Ocean only nine miles away from the waiting ship.
All three astronauts were recovered and are reported to be in good health.
The investigation into the UN president's involvement is still ongoing at this time, however preliminary reports from the Global Bureau of Investigation suggest evidence is both staggering and damning to the current UN president, who earlier today, attempted to cut all ties to the sabotage efforts, saying she was framed. Political experts report that, even assuming her innocence, she will likely not last to the end of her term.
International News Network was able to interview Admiral Vir shortly after his landing while still on board the rescuing ship UNSS Victory.
Here is what the Admiral had to say:
"I find it... Really very disheartening that someone we all trusted, and someone that we all should have looked up to could do something like this. It really is a heinous demonstration of what political corruption can lead people to do."
"And how do you feel, personally about all of this?"
"Personally, I... well to be honest I am hurt and appalled. Not to mention that I fear for the safety of my family and my friends. Every day I wonder if my involvement with them is going to get someone I love killed... The thought haunts me, but I hope after all of this is over I... and all of us can breathe a little easier."
"Were you scared?"
"I don't think that even needs to be a question. Of course I was scared, getting sucked out of your spaceship isn't ideal."
"What do you hope will happen now?"
"I hope that justice can be upheld to those who deserve it."
"What do you have to say to the UN president."
”...”
”So?”
"I have nothing to say. Wouldn't want to waste the air.”
[…]
What followed would be one of the largest scandals in recent political history. At some point an unknown number of classified government documents was leaked onto the internet, and after that it was all over for the Presidency. Thousands of enterprising humans, and aliens alike, viewed the documents to discover all the underhanded and dirty things which had been going on in the UN governmental body over the past few years. Forensic accounting experts (mostly Tesraki), uncovered plenty of fiscal tampering which shed light on plenty of isolationist related projects and bank accounts. There was even evidence that they had something to do with the original assassination attempt against Admiral Vir so many months ago. The drama had even managed to capture the attention of Rundi political experts and Vrul computer science geniuses, and together they unearthed a world of unfathomable, but not unexpected corruption. The process to remove the UN president from office was probably one of the fastest movements of human government ever seen by UN congressional leaders, who were likely trying their very best to distance themselves from association with the president, who despite not being the only one involved, had become the political scapegoat for everyone else that had a supposed link with isolationism.
Even the VP fell under suspicion and was watched closely for the rest of his term.
Admiral Massie and the UN President were placed under arrest and set up for court dates in the nearing future, though everyone saw a long and arduous litigation process ahead. Even Ramirez's family had filed for damages against the government after the news came to light, confirming that their son had been shot as collateral in one of the UN presidents plans to assassinate Admiral Vir. They settled out of court to the tune of an unknown, but impressive sum of money.
No one really knew how much, but a couple months later Ramirez's younger sister was seen training at one of the most prestigious Olympic academies on earth.
Ramirez himself was suddenly able to afford housing on the moon in a condo just next door to his best friend, though no one else inquired further.
The Rundi chairwoman came forward with her own investigation, admitting to being suspicious for a long time though she feared accusations without proper proof. Admiral Vir was seen having lunch with her not so many months after the events took place, suggesting that the trust between the two of them had not been completely dissolved. With much of the isolationist element gone from government, public policy began to lean heavily towards integration with the alliance. The occasional isolationist demonstration or protest was held, but none of them managed to gain traction.
Admiral Vir was finding himself more important than ever, though it was to his chagrin that his ship was grounded for the intervening months while the investigation continued.
No one was entirely sure what the future held.
[…]
Admiral Vir stepped into Admiral Kelly's office. The last time he had actually visited her here had been over a few years ago, before his promotion to captain of the Harbinger. It seemed so distant now, and he never expected to walk into her office with a star on his shoulder. She stood as he entered, and the two of them shook hands, ignoring all the stuffy formalities that usually come with the meeting of two military officers.
The wall behind her was decorated with a myriad of metals and awards she had received over her career, and he couldn't help but note the slight tinge of grey he could see forming in her hair. He knew that feeling, he was going prematurely white much to his chagrin. She stood and the two of them shook hands.
"Vir."
"Kelly."
She motioned him to sit, and he sat, sighing lightly as he had been on his feet all day consulting with political figures and other members of the UNSC.
"A strange couple months wouldn't you say?”
"Tell me about it."
Kelly reached under her desk and withdrew an amber bottle which she placed between them,
"I always forget; do you drink?"
"On occasion."
"Well consider this an occasion."
She said, popping off the top and pouring two glasses for them. She handed his across the desk and he leaned back in his seat cupping the cool glass in both hands.
She swirled the amber liquid around in her glass,
"So what are your plans after all this?”
He took a sip of water warmed by the burning liquid,
"Hoping things will go back to normal and I can go back to traveling the galaxy."
Kelly grunted,
"A simple man with simple motivations."
He laughed,
"Sometimes I think a stupid man with simple motivations."
She chuckled then grew serious,
"A lot of people make the mistake of assuming simple people don't have the intelligence to match. Some people assume that trusting means gullible means dumb. Just because we are trusting and expect others to do the right thing is not necessarily a fault. I believe there is a kind of beauty in assuming the fundamental goodness of humanity."
Admiral Vir shook his head,
"How can you after seeing what we have seen?”
"How can you not?"
She shrugged,
"We always knew that politicians were corrupt, but think about everything else we have seen."
Admiral Vir nodded slowly,
"The enthusiasm for the Apollo 11 recreation mission, the people who flew up to help us. All of those people who went digging through years of information just to uncover the truth."
She raised her glass,
"Precisely. Goodness in humanity is all around us, but we tend to overlook the good in favor of the bad."
She placed her hat on the desk and sighed,
"It is up to good people to keep their goodness going even when it might seem easier to give into the bad. I have and will always believe in the fundamental good of humanity. Some may call it naive, or even stupid. Others have said I have a romanticized view of a species that is fundamentally broken."
She turned her head to look out the window, a contemplative expression on her face before turning back to look at Adam.
"You understand me, I think."
He nodded slowly.
"People need to be believed in. You tell someone for long enough that they are fundamentally bad at their core and they will begin to believe you. For thousands of years pessimists have gotten it into our heads that we are no better than animals, worse even since animals don't fight in wars. But I believe that is wrong, I have seen people, I have met people, and I have interacted with people who prove to me that humanity cannot just be fundamentally bad or else these people wouldn't exist."
She tapped her nails against the glass,
"I think it is easier to corrupt purity than wash away a stain."
He listened quietly as she continued.
"Humans are born good, Adam, and life stains us. We aren't born stained while some of us are wiped clean."
She shook her head,
"Doesn't make sense to me."
She caught him with a look, pinning him to the spot with her intense stare,
"People like you convince me of this every day."
"Me!?..."
She held up a hand.
"Adam Vir, I am convinced that the best outcome this universe ever had, was when a happy go lucky science fiction freak was lucky enough to be the first man to meet aliens. Any other way things would have gone horribly wrong."
She leaned across her desk,
"The universe needs men and women like you, and not only that but the universe needs people who are going to support men and women like you."
She sat back,
"Which is why I have made a decision…"
He raised an eyebrow in curiosity, not entirely sure where this could be going.
She smiled,
"I have decided to run for UN President."
He nearly spit his mouthful of expensive scotch onto the table, but managed to choke it mostly down.
Eyes wide he set his glass down,
"Are you serious?”
She smiled,
"Seriously serious."
"Well shit, you have my vote for sure."
He raised his glass to her,
"I couldn't think of a better outcome."
Previous First Next
Want to find a specific one, see the whole list or check fanart?
Here is the link to the master-post.
Intro post by me
OC-whole collection
Patreon of the author
Thanks for reading! As you saw in the title, this is a cross posted story written by starrfallknightrise and I'll just upload some of it here for you guys, if you are interested and want to read ahead, the original story-collection can be found on tumblr or wattpad to read for free. (link above this text under "OC:..." ) It is the Empyrean Iris story collection by starfallknightrise. Also, if you want to know more about the story collection i made an intro post about it, so feel free to check that out to see what other great characters to look forward to! (Link also above this text). I have no affiliations to the author; just thought I’d share some of the great stories you might enjoy a lot!
Obviously, I have Charlie’s permission to post this and for the people already knowing the stories, or starting to read them: If you follow the link and check out the story you will see some differences. I made some small (non-artistic) changes, mainly correcting writing mistakes, pronoun correction and some small additional info here and there of things which were not thought of/forgotten or even were added/changed in later stories (like the “USS->UNSC” prefix of Stabby, Chalar=/->Sunny etc). As well as some "biggemajor" changes in descriptions and info’s for the same stringency/continuity reason. That can be explained by the story collection being, well a story collection at the start with many standalone-stories just starring the same people, but later on it gets more to a stringent storyline with backstories and throwbacks. (For example Adam Vir has some HEAVY scars over his body, following his bones, which were not really talked about up till half the collection, where it says it covers his whole body and you find out via backflash that he had them the whole time and how he got them, they just weren't mentioned before. However, I would think a doctor would at least see these scars before that, especially since he gets analyzed, treated and goes shirtless/in T-shirts in some stories). So TLDR: Writing and some descriptions are slightly changed, with full OK from the author, since he himself did not bother to correct these things before.

FYI, this is a story COLLECTION. Lots of standalones technically. So, you can basically start to read at any chapter, no pre-read of the other chapters needed technically (other than maybe getting better descriptions of characters than: Adam Vir=human, Krill=antlike alien, Sunny=tall alien, Conn=telepathic alien). The numbers are (mostly) only for organization of posts and continuity.
OC Written by Charlie Stastarrfallknightrise,
Typed up and then posted here by me.
Proofreading and language check for some chapters by u/Finbar9800 u/BakeGullible9975 u/Didnotseemecomein and u/medium_jock
Future Lore and fact check done by me.
The plot thickens!
Previous First Next
Want to find a specific one, see the whole list or check fanart?
Here is the link to the master-post.
The Rundi pilot maneuvered his ship around a chunk of space debris, cutting low as he watched the slow and leisurely path of the rocket as it began on its trajectory towards the moon. Radar was almost impossible to use in the deadly debris field these humans called an orbit, so it was up to his eyes to make out any incoming hostiles.
They circled low and then wide around the slow-moving rocket, keeping their distance while also keeping an eye out. It was easy enough, as the drone was covered in cameras and sensors, which allowed them to see from almost every angle. A human might have been better at this, but right now they were the only ones they could trust.
[…]
A green folder rested atop the lectern as the President of the UN gave her halting, and to the chairwoman it seemed, unenthusiastic speech. The humans down below didn't seem to notice, making her wonder if she was simply imagining things, though a part of her said that was not the case.
She had been suspicious of the UN president from the very beginning, the very beginning when she was given power after the first launch of the enterprise, and they had been forced to deal with her during treaty negotiations. At every step there seemed to be some sort of obstacle, something wrong, some reason that the humans could just not accept. It went on behind closed doors and in quiet whispered conversations. But luckily for them, people like Adam Vir and Admiral Kelly had been there to smooth things over between the two factions.
The chairwoman knew better than most, that there were only a few humans in the galaxy holding everything together.
And the last thing she wanted was bad relations, or to go to war with this species. It would be a nightmare.
She shifted in her seat as she listened to the speech. The valley below her still had traces of smoke let off by burning so much fossil fuel at once. She imagined that such a stunt wasn't entirely great for the atmosphere of the planet, though as far as she knew humans tended to run on sustainable clean energy these days.
The Chairwoman stepped down from the little podium and into the back where she could not be seen, leaning in so she could hear the words whispered from her assistant,
"The drones are deployed, and so far we have not met any resistance.”
She nodded slowly,
"Good work, keep an eye out."
[…]
The UN president felt her fingers digging into the soft paper of the green folder. The red one was lying discarded under the lectern, and she was having trouble concentrating, forcing herself to remember that this wasn't over. She glanced into the crowd, expecting to see that strange white face staring up at her from the throng of people, but there was nothing.
Had she seen it as in her imagination, or did she really see an alien face staring back at her?
She glanced upwards, towards where the rocket had vanished, only half paying attention to the practiced words that dribbled from her mouth. She finished her speech and the people below clapped and cheered heartily, though she didn't much feel like clapping with them.
She turned on her heel and walked down to the back of the stage to where her entourage was waiting for her. Admiral Massie was sitting on one end and Admiral Kelly was sitting at the other, the two of them doing their damndest to ignore each other at all costs.
She sat down next to Admiral Massie, arms crossed over her chest as he leaned in to speak with her.
"That didn't exactly go as planned."
He muttered softly.
"It will if your men are ready."
She snapped back, her palms cold and sweaty.
Admiral Massie nodded,
"Of course, they should come out when they reach the densest part of the debris field, that way we can make it look like some unexpected collision."
He glanced towards the lectern,
"So I would keep a hold of that red folder of yours."
On the other set of chairs, Admiral Kelly was giving them a sidelong glance. Everyone knew that she was in Admiral Vir's camp, licking his boots at every opportunity. It would be within their best interest to keep silent when she was around.
The UN president leaned back in her seat,
"You should be on your way, Admiral. We will have time to talk later."
He stood and nodded slowly,
"Of course madame president."
He turned to walk away, catching the eye of Admiral Kelly as he stepped past. The two of them didn't much like each other, though as the head of the OGI (Office of Galactic intelligence) Admiral Massie had enough pull to keep Kelly in her place.
The UN president turned her head away. Not wanting to draw attention to herself.
[…]
Admiral Kelly glanced over at the UN president as Admiral Massie passed by. There was something about those two spending time together that she didn't like. Granted it was more than likely the two of them were having some sweaty, wrinkly liaisons out of hours which she didn't really want to think about, but if that was the case then he could easily be pressing his planetary isolationist views off on her.
Kelly did not think highly of the UN presidency. Right now, it seemed mostly concerned with power and political favors with the people, rather than doing the right thing. Plus, she found the president herself to be superficially charming, but easily manipulated by the wrong people. Fear mongering worked the best on her, which is why she worried about Massie and his effect on her to begin with.
She found herself digging her nails into her palms as she thought about it.
”Please help us.”
Admiral Kelly shot up in her seat looking around as she tried to find the source of the noise, or the voice. She turned in her seat expecting to find someone whispering in her ear, but there was nothing. She pressed at the implant along the side of her neck wondering if someone had called her and she just hadn't noticed?
”Look up.”
Jolted again, lifting her eyes towards the sky and the burning sun. She threw up a hand to block her vision, and as she did, she thought she saw a shape floating there against the backdrop of the sun.
She squinted hard trying to make it out but was having trouble.
”Now look into the crowd.”
She turned her head down, still not sure where the sound could be coming from, but as she looked into the crowd, she saw a strange sight. One of the people was wearing a dark hoodie, and was turned away from the direction which the rest of the crowd was facing. Their hood was pulled low, but ever so subtly, they lifted their head to reveal a porcelain white face, with large dark eyes.
Admiral Kelly went very still as she stared at the starborn.
“Not a starborn, a halfbreed. My name is Eris, I am Admiral Vir's... daughter”
Oh... oh, yes she had heard about the starborn hybrid from one of his reports.
"What do you want."
She mouthed quietly.
“We need your help, the UN president is planning to have Admiral Vir Killed, and Admiral Massie is on his way to make the order, please, you have to do something."
Admiral Kelly jolted to her feet, very quickly glancing at the UN president in shock and horror before she was able to capture her emotions. The UN president looked up to her sudden movement, and Admiral Kelly had to fight to keep her face neutral as the woman looked up at her.
"Are you feeling well Admiral?”
She could feel the sweat dripping down her face and the nape of her neck, but she remained as calm as possible as she took a deep breath,
"I... Am suddenly very dizzy. I think it's the heat."
"You should sit down, have someone bring you some water."
The woman said, her voice calm and clear as if she hadn't just ordered the murder of Adam Vir.
"No I... I think I need to walk for a minute and find some shade. You will excuse me?"
The UN president shrugged and turned back to staring at the sky, giving Admiral Kelly time to step forward and hurry after General Massi's retreating figure.
[…]
General Massie stepped into mission control and walked down the blank empty corridors. No one was here, they were all either in the control room or out celebrating the successful launch. It had been a sight to see, two-thousand-year-old technology working for one more time, but personally General Massie saw it as completely obsolete and a useless waste of government capital.
That was something they could have been using to help fortify earth's defense nexus. Out of all the useless things Admiral Vir had supported, at least he had agreed that they needed SOME form of defense against extraterrestrial attack.
General Massie made a face…
Though he wouldn't doubt Admiral Vir would have been totally fine leaving their planet with its pants down in order to let those Xenos fuck them over.
Everyone and their dog knew that Admiral Vir preferred alien cock over his own kind.
The thought made Admiral Massie cringe.
It was a well-kept secret among the UNSC, but the man wasn't nearly as secretive as he liked to think he was. Rumors of his infatuation with the stupid blue beetle alien had reached command almost as soon as it began. The only reason they didn't allow it to leak was that it would make the UNSC look bad to the rest of earth.
And Jupiter how he hated that man.
Stupid, juvenile egotistical xeno fucker!
Today was the day all of that came to an end!
He cut right, just before the doors to mission control and walked down two more hallways, finally opening a small side door into, what might have looked from the outside, like an equipment closet. He stepped over a mop and bucket and sat down at an old console, which he fired up with the flick of a button.
"Flight 1 this is Earth 1 over."
"Roger earth one this if slight one, in position over."
He turned on the screen, giving himself time to look the radar over, as twenty dots appeared on screen. Those were twenty Thunderhawks they had slowly appropriated over the intervening year.
With a place as big as the universe to cover, it was pretty easy to lose a few jets in the shuffle. He could see them now, illuminated as little green dots on his screen, hiding in the debris.
"Flight one this is Earth one, Operation “After Apollo” is go. Now remember boys and girls, make it look like an accident. Over."
*"Roger that Earth one. Over and out."
[…]
"You TRAITOR!"
Admiral Massie spun in his seat, eyes wide and wild as Admiral Kelly stood in the doorway. She could feel her skin growing hot with absolute rage as she stalked forward over the open floor. In one hand she held up the small recording device Conn had handed to her outside the building, and on it held proof of this man's order. On the screen behind him twenty little dots burst to life.
She was too late.
The man slowly got to his feet as Kelly aimed her handgun at him, her grip steady, her aim true.
"Call off your dogs."
She snarled,
Admiral Massie slowly lifted his hands, before slowly leaning forward in his seat towards the intercom button. She stepped forward, watching him intently as he leaned over the console pressing down on the button.
"Flight one this is earth one..."
Her eyes flickered up to the screen waiting to see them pause.
But before she knew what was happening an elbow came up striking her on the hand and causing the gun to spin out of her grip. Admiral Massie turned and tackled her to the floor, his nearly 300 lb body crushing her to the floor.
The wind was knocked out of her and she gasped as he struggled to pin her to the ground.
Her hat had flown off and her bun became undone as he drew back a fist to punch her. She was able to block it with her forearms as he raged and went for her face. The blows rained down on her from above with an onslaught of power she wasn't expecting but should have.
She took another gasping breath, and then with a surge of adrenaline she bucked, throwing him forward where she grabbed one of his arms and bucked again, forcing him to his side and onto his back. Still gripping his arm, she threw herself sideways, throwing her legs over his chest and struggling with his arm to pull it flat.
He kicked and grabbed at her legs with his other hand painfully gripping her calves as his nails dug into her skin and drew blood. The pain was incredible, but she finally got his arm down tucked tight to her chest, her legs across his chest, and then she jerked her hips sharply upward.
Admiral Massie screamed as his elbow snapped backwards.
She let go of him and scrambled towards the console, but at the last moment he grabbed her by the foot and hauled her back to the ground, one arm hanging limp and useless at his side. He clawed at her with one hand, and she rolled onto her back, kicking up at his face with her boot catching him square in the chin.
He staggered back as she crawled to the console and reached to adjust the frequency, ready to call in lunar support.
There was a sharp click behind her, and she froze, turning in her seat to find Admiral Massie standing behind her gun held in his good hand.
Blood leaked from his nose and down onto the front of his uniform, staining the grey fabric red,
"Nice try, Kelly."
[…]
Donovan Red waited, spinning slowly as he watched the progress of the distant rocket. Inside his helmet his breathing was cold and calm as, ranging all around him, his other men and women waited as well. Their ships had been outfitted with proper weapons as they had ridden here in the cargo hold of the Omen. The group of them weren't soldiers or trained fighter pilots, so he didn't imagine this would be easy, but it was going to have to do.
"Red, this is Apollo 11 do you copy?”
"Yeah Cinderella, I copy."
"See anything?"
"Nope not a..."
He paused,
"Wait..."
There was something, something he thought he saw detach itself from another piece of space junk,
"Hold that thought Apollo."
He detached from his own bit of space junk and inched forward.
A thunderhawk? What would one of those be doing here?
It began to accelerate.
He accelerated after it.
Up ahead the rocket was growing larger and larger in his view.
“Thunderhawk has made lock.”
The cool female voice said from his console.
"Oh shit, Admiral r-“
He didn't have time to finish his sentence as a small ball-like-silver ship came pelting down from nowhere, blasting the Thunderhawk in the wing with a sharp burst of laser fire. It's wing exploded and it went careening in the opposite direction as the silver ball whizzed past.
"What the fuck!?"
He turned to fly after it, but was stopped.
"Red, this is Wendy, stand down that's a Rundi UAV."
"Rundi? I thought it was the Rundi we were worried about!?”
He called in confusion.
"Yeah, but that thunderhawk had locked in on Apollo 11. It looks like the Rundi are helping."
He grunted and cursed under his breath,
"Boys and girls, if you see a silver ball stand down, those are on our side."
Just then another Thunderhawk shot over his head. He cursed again and pulled himself into a sharp upward turn cutting after the Thunderhawk and locking on. His lock cut off their attempts to shoot down the rocket, and they were forced to dive under as he followed after. He followed, spinning right and left around debris as the Thunderhawk attempted to escape.
It cut upward, just in time for a bright pink jet with graffiti words on the side to shoot out of nowhere.
The Thunderhawk exploded in a cloud of debris as Wendy roared by.
"Good shot, girl!”
He said over his radio.
"Thanks boss. Now let’s give them hell!"
[…]
Admiral Vir floated before the console, knuckles white and unable to do anything. A silent explosion flashed in his vision to the right as quickly as it had begun. Richards and Chavez started with wide eyes and dropped mouths.
"Admiral what the hell is going on!?”
Adam took a deep breath,
"It seems as if we are under attack."
The two of them exchanged glances,
"From who? What the fuck!?!"
Adam turned where he stood to look at the two of them,
"I am sorry I got you two into this mess, but the isolationists have been gunning for me for a few months now, and it seems as if now things have come to a head.”
"What are we going to do!"
"Radio Houston."
Chavez hurried to do as ordered, but when she did, they heard only static,
"Shit... Something is jamming our coms."
Adam took a deep breath,
"Well I guess all we have is Donovan to protect us. Lets' hope they do it right."
[…]
Admiral Massie laughed,
"You're as dumb as you look Kelly."
She stood, slowly wiping blood from her cheek as she turned to look down the barrel of the gun. Her own gun.
She didn't generally tend to agree with Massie, but this time he did have a point. Surprisingly though she was very calm,
"You aren't going to get away with this."
She glanced over to where the little silver recording device lay in the shadows under one of the chairs.
Massie was too amped to notice.
"Doesn't matter. I will have done my duty to my planet and my people, saving them from alien lovers like you and that bastard Vir."
"Whose Idea was this, the President or yours?"
She held her hands out to the side.
"Do you think that dipshit was smart enough to come up with a plan like mine?"
Kelly raised an eyebrow,
"Is it wise to incriminate your friends along with you?"
"That bitch? Heh, I could care less. And if I am going down, she is going down with me. The president may think it was all her idea, but it was mine all along, she was following my orders, whether she believes it or not, and once Adam Vir and YOU are dead, then it doesn't matter what we did, because diplomatic relations will dissolve, and it will be all over."
He lifted the gun to her face,
"Goodbye Kelly."
She remained very still as the shadow fell over him from behind,
"May I say one last thing?”
He paused.
"Turn around."
"Very funny!”
He lifted the gun again and pulled the trigger.
There was a sharp crack and thud as metal hit metal. Kelly flinched and held up her hands, but opened her eye after a moment as no pain came.
Admiral Massie lay on the floor face down.
Kelly reached down quickly to grab her gun, looking up to where Sunny was standing in the doorway holding her pearlescent white spear. Behind her floated the starborn Conn and the hybrid.
She took a deep breath,
"Great timing you three.”
Sunny nodded,
"Anytime."
Admiral Kelly turned and lunged for the comms, switching the frequency to the lunar station only to find she couldn't get through,
"Damn it."
She cursed, turning to look at Sunny and the others,
"I was too late, the ships have already been deployed."
She paused and looked down, grabbing the recording device from off the floor tossing it to the hybrid who caught it with some difficulty,
"Run that to one of the media outlets, convince them it is important and leak it as soon as you can. We don't want her to have time to cover her own ass."
Eris nodded and shot off in the other direction.
Sunny knelt down to help her restrain Admiral Massie.
Just then the sound of feet came thundering up the hall and they looked up to see the Chairwoman of the GA and her assistants skid around a corner. Sunny's eyes narrowed as she crouched low leveling her spear.
"Did you catch him?"
The Chairwoman asked,
"No thanks to you."
Sunny snarled, but the chairwoman waved her off,
"I lost contact with my drones, but they should be out helping to protect Admiral Vir. I am sorry I couldn't do more, but it was all I could do not to show my hand too early."
Admiral Kelly stood slowly,
"You knew about this?"
The charwoman shook her head,
"Not this specifically, but I have been trying to find the source of the assassination attempts on Admiral Vir's life. I've had discreet escorts on him for the past few months while I tried getting in contact with my people in the criminal underworld and I called the hit on him with those pirates, knowing who Captain Kell was, hoping that he could get more information out of the pirates that I could."
Sunny stared at her rage flickering across her face,
"You called a hit on him!"
The charwoman did not seem perturbed,
"Those pirates couldn't have... How do the humans say... Hit their way out of a paper bag. I have been attempting to come in contact with the leader of the anti-alliance for the past few months. I have been trying to convince them I am on their side, and that was part of my ruse, as well as knowing Admiral Vir was captain Kell. During my investigation it became clear that someone within the UN was involved though I couldn't have said who."
"And why should we believe you aren't just covering your own ass?”
The chairwoman hissed,
”Do you really think I want to make an enemy out of the strongest species in the galaxy!? Not on your life! I am not stupid. Besides, I owe Admiral Vir my life. I admit I have done some irreparable things in order to keep the alliance going, but those moves were calculated, and Vir was always protected.”
[…]
One of the silver UAV's exploded and Red had to dodge to the side to avoid the flying debris. He cut right and then left keeping as fast as he could possibly go as he cut up through the chunks of metal and locked onto the back of a Thunderhawk. There was a sharp click and then a silent explosion which he rolled out of the way to avoid. He had sent one of his men off to make contact with earths forces for backup.
They were good, but these men and women were made for combat, and despite their best work only four out of twenty of them had been destroyed, and their numbers were dwindling fast. He cut right before one of the Thunderhawk’s, forcing it to turn away from the rocket and cut down in another direction. He could only imagine the fear of those inside the rocket as they watched helplessly at the fight raging on around them.
He spun down and under, cutting off another Thunderhawk coming in the opposite direction.
There was no way they were going to keep up with this for long.
Their only chance was earths forces reacting quickly.
Previous First Next
Want to find a specific one, see the whole list or check fanart?
Here is the link to the master-post.
Intro post by me
OC-whole collection
Patreon of the author
Thanks for reading! As you saw in the title, this is a cross posted story written by starrfallknightrise and I'll just upload some of it here for you guys, if you are interested and want to read ahead, the original story-collection can be found on tumblr or wattpad to read for free. (link above this text under "OC:..." ) It is the Empyrean Iris story collection by starfallknightrise. Also, if you want to know more about the story collection i made an intro post about it, so feel free to check that out to see what other great characters to look forward to! (Link also above this text). I have no affiliations to the author; just thought I’d share some of the great stories you might enjoy a lot!
Obviously, I have Charlie’s permission to post this and for the people already knowing the stories, or starting to read them: If you follow the link and check out the story you will see some differences. I made some small (non-artistic) changes, mainly correcting writing mistakes, pronoun correction and some small additional info here and there of things which were not thought of/forgotten or even were added/changed in later stories (like the “USS->UNSC” prefix of Stabby, Chalar=/->Sunny etc). As well as some "biggemajor" changes in descriptions and info’s for the same stringency/continuity reason. That can be explained by the story collection being, well a story collection at the start with many standalone-stories just starring the same people, but later on it gets more to a stringent storyline with backstories and throwbacks. (For example Adam Vir has some HEAVY scars over his body, following his bones, which were not really talked about up till half the collection, where it says it covers his whole body and you find out via backflash that he had them the whole time and how he got them, they just weren't mentioned before. However, I would think a doctor would at least see these scars before that, especially since he gets analyzed, treated and goes shirtless/in T-shirts in some stories). So TLDR: Writing and some descriptions are slightly changed, with full OK from the author, since he himself did not bother to correct these things before.

"While controversial for many reasons, the first film in the so-called Kelvin Timeline is a solid movie that works as a great introduction to the universe — even if it didn't fully capture the heart and soul that made Star Trek endure for 60 years and counting.
Star Trek (2009) was meant to launch a new feature film franchise, but its filmmakers made a fundamental error in their strategy. By changing the characters so drastically, fans old and new didn't get enough time with the new USS Enterprise's crew to understand their friendships in the way that the films following Star Trek: The Original Series allowed. The original Star Trek movies benefited from a seasons-long TV show that endeared the characters to audiences beforehand, whereas the reboot relied more on the nostalgia and familiarity they evoked.
As a result, Star Trek (2009) felt more like a reverent movie about the USS Enterprise's crew that would be made in the characters' universe than a glimpse into their missions and lives. Longtime fans can easily imagine the reboot as a holo-film made with the time-travel conceit that the late-24th Century filmmakers would use to justify a cameo for the "real" Spock. Most of Star Trek's classic storytelling doesn't involve the big set pieces or breathless action one finds in an Abrams picture. It almost stands to reason that this blockbuster would be the way Federation citizens would dramatize and exaggerate the adventures of the most famous Starfleet crew. While the reboot's filmmakers didn't perfectly nail the spirit of Star Trek, the story they told is a well-made and fun adventure with enough recognizable elements for Trekkies to enjoy.
[...]
For Star Trek (2009), Leonard Nimoy's Spock served that role. He originated from the Prime Universe and failed to prevent the destruction of Romulus, which later played heavily into Star Trek: Picard. His presence — and that of the vengeful Romulan, Nero — meant that everything fans knew and loved about Star Trek was different or even non-canon here. Despite these major divergences from the beloved canon, Nimoy's presence, particularly his scenes with Chris Pine's Kirk and Zachary Quinto's Spock, were the reboot's highlights. By virtue of Nimoy's presence, this movie is a "real" Star Trek movie.
A version of this movie without Spock Prime would be worse, but it would've given the filmmakers license to let Vulcan survive. There is a massive narrative power to the destruction of Spock's home planet, especially given its nostalgic value among Trekkies and the future destruction of Romulus within the canon. For longtime Star Trek fans, it's almost too much to bear. The destruction of any planet would be too large a tragedy for a film's story — especially in a Star Trek story — but to have it be Vulcan? Audiences would be as emotionally compromised as Spock on the bridge of the USS Enterprise. Nimoy helplessly watching Vulcan be reduced to ashes while he was exiled on a barren planet is the most important moment in Star Trek (2009). It's tragic, and it also means that Spock's final mission failed (until Star Trek: Discovery, anyway).
Nimoy reprising Spock in a new Star Trek movie is undoubtedly going to be the best part of that film. Nimoy is a generous actor, and his performance as Spock is understated, which makes it all the more impressive. This is a Spock who's more in touch with his human side's emotions, living in balance with his logic and feelings. Seeing his planet destroyed devastates him. When he meets the Kelvin Timeline Kirk for the first time, he sounds ready to unburden himself of his despair. Yet, he quickly realizes that an emotional Spock was not the Spock who this particular Kirk needed at that specific moment in time. And so he becomes Star Trek's (2009) answer to Obi-Wan Kenobi, a stoic mentor who took a leap of faith with life-and-death consequences. Plus, Spock's improvised final line, "Thrusters on full," is full of hope and melancholy that its possible Nimoy wasn't even acting.
Star Trek (2009) Is Spock’s Movie, but James T. Kirk Makes It Work
[...]
Pine's version of Kirk is unique and distinct from Shatner's. This worked for the film, especially since the destruction of the USS Kelvin (which was named after Abrams's grandfather) was the inciting incident of the Kelvin Timeline that forced Jim to grow up without a father. Pine's take on Kirk is a perfect reinterpretation of the beloved character. He has no less swagger than the original, but none of the poise of a Starfleet captain.
However, Pine could've arguably evoked Shatner a little more, especially as Kirk gradually grew from cocky hotshot to the confident and reliable young captain Trekkies knew and loved. For comparison's sake, Quinto's Spock had many little touches that emulated Nimoy. Pine, in contrast, portrayed a mostly original take on Kirk who was far removed from the one seen in Star Trek: The Original Series. This didn't mean that Pine had to do a satirical impression of Shatner's famously exaggerated acting, like the ones that comedians like Kevin Pollak made famous. These caricatures didn't give proper credit to the skillful acting Shater did as Captain Kirk. His was a more nuanced performance than people think, especially in the films. Fans who were particularly connected to the noble leadership of the classic Kirk may fail to connect with his rebooted counterpart. The Kelvin Timeline Kirk eventually arrives in a place and state of mind similar to that of his Prime Timeline predecessor, especially in his closing scenes, but it's a long road to get there.
[...]
Star Trek (2009) is really Spock's movie in the way that no previous Star Trek film ever was. Kirk is still a vital part of that equation, even if he was more of Spock's supportive side-character, but the reboot almost missed the mark because of Kirk's vastly different characterization and Pine's performance.
[...]
Star Trek’s (2009) Look & Style Were Big Risks That Aged Well
As Modern Star Trek Looks to the Past, the Reboot’s Design Departures Work Better
So much of the look of classic Star Trek was redesigned for the 2009 film, and the reboot's barely changed USS Enterprise is a testament to how perfect Matt Jefferies's original design was. Designer Ryan Church was tasked with making the ship large enough for thousands of crewmembers to live and work in, and to update its design. However, he could not improve the saucer section, secondary hull and dual nacelle shape. He did redesign the nacelles with a "hot rod" quality, which was reportedly requested by Abrams himself.
From the outside, the USS Enterprise looked as beautiful as always. In fact, the Industrial Light and Magic VFX team seamlessly added the signature lens flares from the practical sets in all their digital designs. While even Abrams himself admitted he overdid the lens flares, they added an element of reality to the computer-generated shots. The ship's interior, however, does look like a sci-fi Apple Store. For better and worse, the reboot's designers tried to evoke the "clean future" aesthetic that Gene Roddenberry insisted on.
This was the first time Star Trek was done on such a big budget and scale, and the filmmakers put every penny they had on screen. Now that new Star Trek series like Star Trek: Srange New Worlds reimagined things again by skewing a bit closer to the aesthetic of the original shows, the Kevlin Timeline's different style becomes an even more welcome departure in hindsight. It expanded the visual vocabulary of Star Trek, pushing what's possible further than ever before. From the phasers to the uniforms, the modern design is sufficiently evocative of what came before. This welcome change of pace applied to every other facet of Star Trek (2009) as well. Although some parts will rub hardcore Trekkies the wrong way and even if the original Star Trek is still superior in some key ways, this reboot was clearly a labor of love that aged surprisingly better than anyone expected it to."
Joshua M. Patton (CBR.com)
Link (long read):
https://www.cbr.com/star-trek-2009-jj-abrams-review/