Chapter 7: Marty Stu Walks in the Park

Sir Issac Ney strode into the General Assembly of the United Nations. I was on his left as was proper for subordinates. Sir Issac was in soft clothes but I wore my Earth Defense Force uniform. We were announced.

“This is Colonel T. E. Lawrence,” Sir Issac introduced me. “His primary mission is preserving human culture. Colonel Lawrence has traveled the world collecting documents, artifacts and interviews so that human culture survives invasion by the Swarm.”

“Thief!” someone shouted from the general assembly.

This wasn’t going to go well.

“If you don’t want your culture to be only the Disney version,” I spoke out of turn, “then I’ll need your help. How do you want to be remembered?”

“Defeatist!” someone else shouted.

“I have reason,” I replied. “The Battle of Disneyland happened last week. The casualties were zero innocents and 254 active MMD operatives. They attempted to disrupt the 50th Anniversary ceremony but suffered epic failure. The world didn’t even notice.”

Of course not. Disneyland was actually on the moon deep below the surface and accessed through a system of transporter pads from the former site. The Anaheim location of Disneyland was actually a holographic decoy. Infiltrators were detected and weeded out at the entrances. That wasn’t the entire battle.

“How many of you like ‘it’s a small world?’ How many of you want to be remembered as just a few dancing dolls singing a catchy tune?” I scanned the crowd. “I like that ride. Then there’s Epcot. The main problem with Epcot is that there’s only eleven nations represented.”

“Tom,” Sir Issac commanded, “tell this assembly about your second mission, the one that uses your primary mission of preserving human culture as a cover.”

“Yes, sir,” I described some of the preparations of the past several years.

“Brief them on Arab Dagger.”

I did. There was a limited executive brief prepared for national leaders, one that didn’t compromise methods and sources—and people. I told of an umbrella over Earth, and going to one denied area. Now there were batteries of anti-spacecraft lasers in place.

“All with Earth technology,” I added. “They have a shield in place to an altitude of 100 kilometers. That is networked with the proposed near space force that will be moon-based and provide combat spacecraft--”

“BULLSHIT!” It was Colonel Johnny Dorman. No, Vice Marshal Johnny Dorman wearing the uniform of the United Nations Space Force. It was a new organization and I had only seen a few reports. “There is no Swarm! There is no space confederacy! It’s all a lie! They’re just trying to take over the Earth and promote white male supremacy!”

“Are you drunk, man?” Sir Issac demanded.

“I’ll show you drunk!” Dorman whipped out a stinger, pointed it at me and mashed the thumb switch. “Die you Marty Stu freak! Just die!”

Nothing happened to me. I wasn’t there—just a projection of me a holographic avatar. Sir Issac was also a projection. Fortunately nobody else was in the line of stinger fire, either. Dorman did something typical when the stinger failed to have its usual severe effect on me—he turned the stinger around and peered down the spike, much like many people will peer down a pistol’s barrel when their gun goes click instead of BANG! When he pushed the thumb switch, Dorman discharged the stinger into his own brain at near contact distance.

He collapsed as if he were a wet towel.

“That was entertaining,” I sarcastically commented. “We need to have a word with the United Nations Security Council after this, Sir Issac. There’s the matter of requests for arrests and extradition of active and known MMD agents working in the United Nations—these people are protected by the UN treaty with the Confederacy. But at the moment I’m requesting alternatives to the Disney Version of your home nation’s culture and history. Japan is quite satisfied with Meet the World. I’ve been to several non-UN nations and have gotten their version of their past and present and in the near future delegations from those nations will visit the exhibits and give me feedback on how well we’ve presented them. I say ‘we’ because there are many other people helping me get it correct.

“One of the exhibits will be on this very organization, the United Nations. You were the last best hope for the Human race.”

By this time several people wheeled a Gurney into the chamber. It took several strong men to heft Vice Marshal Dorman’s 150 kilogram bulk onto the Gurney and strap him in.

“What did you mean by the last best hope of the Human race?” the Chair asked.

“MMD’s purpose is reducing the human population to a controllable level,” I explained that MMD’s goal was a total human population of less than 250 million human beings—their logo was the Roman numerals for 250,000,000 and that was MMD with a bar on the top. “The tragic thing is that more than five BILLION humans buy into that MMD agenda. Never mind the consequences—starting with an extinction-level genocidal program and the Human race becoming a pile of Sa’rm food pellets. Control! It’s all about control. One billion people is too much to control.”

“Speaking about controlling humans,” Sir Issac interjected, “Colonel Lawrence has been designated the primary species policeman for the Human race for the Confederacy. He has limited authority here on Earth—but so far he has directly killed 144,000 criminals. Total MMD casualties have been a quarter million. Colonel Lawrence has argued that MMD cannot be rooted out without killing off Humanity—successfully. MMD was the reason that the Confederacy hesitated to ask this body, the United Nations, for aid to contain the Sa’arm. There are others who could have policed our species, but Colonel Lawrence was selected.

“Tom, tell this audience about Johnny Dorman.”

“Yes, sir,” I squashed my reluctance. Was it mere reluctance or was I conditioned to keep secrets? “Johnny Dorman was infiltrated into Central Command more than a year before I was involved with the Confederacy. He was appointed the security officer aboard the Arc Dios as well as the Central Command representative for the human culture program. We were prohibited from excluding Colonel Dorman from operations and Arc Dios—he was a colonel in the Confederacy Navy—but Governor Lilith kept Colonel Dorman distracted.”

“Lilith is a goddess,” Sir Issac interjected. The audience collectively gasped. “Continue, Colonel Lawrence.”

“Earth Defense Command is a joint headquarters to coordinate Earth’s defense with the Confederacy. Central Command and the Department of Extractions and Colony Operations or DECO share space with the United Nations Space Force. This is for the Security Council, but if we can’t weed MMD out of the UNSF the Confederacy Navy will have to impose a lunar orbit blockade on the UNSF. The MMD started that nuclear war in the Middle East and the Confederacy shut down the ballistic missile exchange since those missiles infringed on the 100 kilometer limit of outer space and presented a credible threat to Confederacy assets in near Earth orbit. Just a few days ago MMD launched an all-out biological warfare attack on the USA because that nation is the major supporter of the alliance with the Confederacy. Call it unfair, but more volunteers from the United States are in the Confederacy military forces than from the rest of the world combined.”

“CAP testing!” someone shouted. “CAP testing is racist!”

I laughed.

“Well, it is! People of color are less likely to achieve sponsor status than are white male Americans.”

“That’s a fact,” I admitted. “Are you special? You have the answer and I can’t answer you with facts—your mind is made up. That’s one of MMD’s weapons—your prejudice. The bio weapon attack was staged to appear to be the Confederacy’s fault.”

“They were after my Tom-cat,” Lilith said from behind me. I glanced at her—she was naked, as usual. Many UN member nations find nudity—especially adult female nudity—objectionable at best. “They infiltrated a dozen assassination teams into the park and we caught them all.”

By Lilith’s side was a large black cat, a panther.

“Lovely lady, who are you?” I asked the panther. She bobbed her head. I knelt. The panther trotted over and rubbed her head against me. “You remind me of Satin.”

“Lucy is Satin’s sister,” Lilith explained.

“Yes, there were two,” I said. “Lucy and Satin fought for me on that ship.”