The Dominionist Rule (Story-Repost)

[Syd]

The Dominionist Rule

Meet the new boss, same as the old boss.
Dominionism describes a movement among socially conservative
Christians to gain influence or control over secular government
through political action seeking either a nation governed by
Christians or a nation governed by a Christian understanding of
biblical law. The use and application of this terminology is a matter
of controversy.
-Wikipedia
It had been twelve hours since Walker, the President of the former
United States of America, had declared himself President for Life of
the Federal States of Holy Christ Jesus. That had inspired Paul
Wright
and his loose band of friends to go on the run ten hours ago,
stealing
the land leviathan out of its store room at Lobkowitz Enterprises.
The owner had been having his own troubles with the Walker
administration, and did not attempt to hinder them as they arrived.
They were out running the Special Ops forces that were now chasing
them.
"So," Calvin Smith said, at the controls of the land ship, "Walker
has
finally shown his true colors."
Paul Wright sat near the back of the cabin. He was playing with a
defunct cell phone. Every now and then, he thought he spotted a
threatening shadow, but it always resolved its' self into a harmless
shape.
"It's not like this wasn't unexpected," Chi Fang said, preparing a
pistol. Calvin Smith sighed heavily, said, "No. No, it's not. We'd
had
warning of his fascist tendencies almost from day one."
"No, even before that," Brookes Pruit commented, rubbing an oily rag
over his various pistols. Paul nodded, scanned his console.
He said, "Yep. Evan as governor, the most hard-line asshole that
state
ever had."
"The question now is," Chi Fang said, "What do we do now?"
The question hung in the still air. No one had an answer. There had
been little time so far for solid planning. They were running for
their lives. Planning would come later. They were in little danger
from the Special Ops, in any case. The Land Leviathan was very nearly
impenetrable. It was heavily armed, it had enough stores for a small
city, and enough space that they had space to spread out, and stay
out
of each others space. They were prepared for a lengthy siege. They
trudged on because they wished to avoid a confrontation with the
forces for as long as possible.
A dark copter suddenly swooped out of the inky darkness. Calvin
cursed, cut the power to the drive mechanisms. The land ship came to
a
sluggish stop. Shells burst exploded off the outer hull. Brookes
swung
his chair into a bubble, activated the outer defenses, and armed the
forward guns.
The dark copter erupted in a flaming ball.
Smith sighed. He turned to Paul, and said, "Might as well check the
radar. I figure they have us in sight anyway."
Paul nodded, turned on the radar, and studied it a moment. It had
been
switched off in an effort to lower there electric output. All similar
devise, like cell phones and computer networks, had likewise been
silenced. Paul's face was eerie in the greenish light of the panel.
He
shook his head.
"Don't see any other aircraft. Looks like we're safe for now," he
said.
Calvin sighed again, said, "No use waiting for them."
He applied power to the drives, switched a gear lever, disengaged the
brakes, and the land ship moved unhurriedly forward.
Dark clouds gathered. Soon, a flurry of showers fell on their tracks.
Robert McCarthy straightened himself.
The old soldier raised his arm awkwardly and shook Paul's hand with a
grimace of pain. His broken limbs had physically healed, but the
deeper wounds would probably never heal completely.
"And after all my years of military service," He said bitterly.
Paul only nodded. Robert had made at least one negative comment about
the administrations' handling of its war on terror, and soon he was
in a secret prison somewhere in Palestine. He'd been released after
they'd been unable to even infer or implied an Islamist connection or
sympathy. Even now, he had the feeling of prying eyes watching him.
"And now, this. Wish I could say I didn't see it coming, but that's
hardly the case. I saw how they swift boated everyone telling it as
it
was. They don't like anyone bursting their political fantasy. And
now,
they have the power to silence all their critics. They become the
very
fascist they decry."
They stood under the vast land ship. A gentle rain pelted the upside.
A deceptively gentle spring aroma was in the air. Robert McCarthy was
dressed in a Marine officers' jacket, with the insignia missing.
Tears marked the spots they belonged. He eyed the leviathan wearily.
"And now, their even targeting our group. We're like strangers in our
own country. It's all taken a turn for the worst."
Paul nodded again. He said, "Wish I had better news for you, old
friend."
"Eh. What's done is done. The thing they don't get is power isn't
forever. Eventually, like all governments, this one will fall.
Decaying from inside."
"But, how long?"
"Ahhh. That's the question, isn't it? They can hang on for decades,
or
centuries, but eventually, the rot will get them. It always does,"
Robert said bitterly.
Paul agreed with the sentiment, in part at least. He eyed the thick
vegetation on the edge of Robert's farm uneasily. He was as certain
as
Robert was that there were unfriendly eyes out there.
His musings were interrupted by footsteps on the gangway. They both
turned; saw Chi Fang exiting the land ship. She was overdressed,
perhaps, in an over sized hooded coyote fur coat, and light jeans.
Her
cowboy boots made clanging sounds on the steel steps. She approached
Robert and embraced him warmly.
"Good to see you, Bobby," She said.
He smiled, said, "And you too, Chi Fang."
He leaned against a support beam. She stood besides Paul. They both
watched Robert intently.
"So," Chi Fang started, "Any plans?"
Robert shook his head, said, "Not at the moment."
"Feel like a ride," Paul asked. Robert didn't answer for so long,
they
thought he'd taken offence. Then he said, "I guess. Need something to
do."
Chi Fang took his arm, and gently led him up the gangplank into the
leviathan. Paul lingered at the bottom, eyeing the woods
suspiciously.
He then turned and followed them. The gangplank rose, swiftly, into
the hull.
A bullet bounced off the hull.
Ms. Laurie stood in the middle of the dark room, staring at the
stormy
skies without expression. The skylight covered the whole ceiling. The
sparsely decorated room was lightly furnitured. Every now and then,
white flashes of lightening illuminated the interior.
"Oh. Ms Laurie," A voice said.
She turned, saw Paul Wright standing in a circle of dull yellow light
that marked the entrance of the room. Her expression didn't change.
Paul shrugged, went to stand next to her.
"I've always loved this room. Especially at night," He said, looking
up out the skylight. She didn't respond. He tried again.
"It's been storming ever since we left Alabama."
She still remained silent, staring up into the clouds. He took a step
back, spun on his heel, and headed for the exit. She stood there, a
lady in white surrounded by darkness.
He met Shane Bruce on the steps.
"How is she," Shane inquired.
"Still the same," Paul replied. Shane shook his head sadly.
"She's been this way since we picked her up," he said.
Paul nodded. That had been two weeks ago. They had found her in a
rocking chair on a porch in Birmingham. She had stared hollowly at
them as they greeted her, and made no resistance when they helped her
into the land ship. Even now, among her old friends, she was still
the
silent, hollow-eyed wraith she had been when found.
"I wonder," Shane continued, "What happened to her."
The land ship gradually eased into lake. Luckily, the level was low,
so that, when it was submerged, the waters would cover it completely
and the lake would appear full. Slowly, the waters covered the ship,
until the land ship vanished completely. It looked like nothing had
invaded the scene.
Calvin Smith stretched in his seat, shut the power down, after making
sure that everything was satisfactory. He stretched again, and
yawned.
"I'm ready for a good night's sleep, eh?" he said. The others nodded,
and rose, and filed out the door.
The special ops forces were searching the area. So far, they had
found
nothing. They noted the level of the lake, but disregarded it. The
land ship, in their opinion, could not have fit in there. So, they
continued searching. The tracks led up the lake, then disappeared.
They were looking on the other side for more tracks. Two troopers
stood by a tree.
"So, when's the baby due?" Asked one.
"Any time now," The other replied.
"Congrats."
"Thanks. I'm looking forward to being a father."
"Yeah, well, I'm sure you'll due fine."
"Yeah. I hope all this ends soon."
Suddenly, long cables shot out of the lake, impaling the troops to
the
trees. Great hooks pinned them, impaled them, and crushed them. The
rest
turned at their screams, fired into the lake, as a mud-covered
leviathan appeared. Their shots richoted harmlessly off the surface,
dislodging mud, and revealing the shiny metal surface underneath.
Sluggishly, the great ship moved onto dry land. Long sticks moved, a
bust of fire, and the troops disappeared.
The land ship moved slowly over their bodies, and into the forest. A
moving mountain.
It left destruction in its wake.
Paul and Robert walked across the open spaces in the land ship.
Compared to a similar seagoing vessel, it was surprisingly spacious.
They were doing an inspection.
"There's a crack in #20th, there," Robert said. Paul nodded, wrote a
note on a clipboard. They moved on. Robert shook his head.
"This thing," He said, "Is hardly battle-ready."
Paul shrugged, said, "The Prinze had no time to even do a test run.
This is, in fact, its test run, shake-down, and maiden-run all in
one."
"Sloppy," Robert said, "But, no way around it, of course. I'd advise
at least a maintence stop, though."
"No time."
"I realize that. It's just... I'm uneasy trusting my life on a piece
of
untested equipment."
They moved on.
Paul collapsed onto his bed.
His cabin was surrounded by large one-way windows, made of a new,
lighter, but stronger plastic composite. It was lightly furnished. A
few tables, some chairs, and the bed were all it contained. He'd
managed only a few personal items. Just clothes, music, and currency.
He sighed, closing his eyes. It had been a rough month. The special
ops had been determined. But ineffectual. The land ship had so far
repelled their assaults. So far.
A sound came from the shadows. He turned looked into a corner. The
figure stepped into the light.
"Hello, Stacee," He said with a smile.
She smiled also. She was tall, dark haired, and dark-eyed. She
reminded him a lot of his cousin Iris, though she was healthier in
appearance. She wore pink tank-top and blue shorts. She sat on the
edge of his bed. He sat up.
"What's up?" He asked. She shook her head, and looked at him with
concern.
"What's gonna happen to us?" She asked.
Paul put his arm around her shoulder. She leaned in, her head against
his chin. He stroked her hair.
"Truthfully? I don't know," He said. He knew this wasn't much help in
comforting her, but he didn't know what else to say. She sighed. He
kissed her head, and continued.
"But, you know, the ship can protect us almost indefinitely. The
Prinz
knows how to build war ships. We have at least a fighting chance."
She looked at him with eyes heavy with worry.
"But, what if it doesn't? What if we get into a prolonged battle with
heavy guns? What if it fails? Or they get in? Or..."
Paul took her chin in his hand, pulled her face gently up even with
his, and winked at her.
"Don't worry. Nothing's gonna happen. We're all safe enough," He
said.
Her eyes told him she wasn't convinced. Stacee leaned against him and
cried. He stroked her hair and held her tightly. He laid her back
onto
the bed. Soon, she was fast asleep. He lay beside her, staring out
the windows.
Soon, he too was fast asleep.
As Paul left his cabin, he found Shane Bruce stairs.
"How is she?" He asked. Paul shrugged.
"Asleep," He said. "She's really worried."
"If I were you, I'd be worried too," Shane commented.
Paul ignored the threat in that comment, and leaned against the wall.
"She's worried about trusting her life to a proto-type vehicle."
Shane looked down, said, "We all are. Our choices, unfortunately, are
limited. An old soldier maxim: Use what you must."
Paul smirked, said, "Sounds like you coulda done a better job at
easing her fears then I could."
"That's true," Shane said smugly.
Paul moved past him, continued down the stairs.
The land ship had stopped for a rest.
Inside, the lights mirrored the exterior light. Half-light, rather
then
full darkness. The crew was doing maintenance checks and repairs. The
air buzzed with tiny sounds.
Paul, checking for cracks in the casings and walls, turned a corner
and spied Shane Bruce and Stacee Higbe. From the snippets he could
hear, it sounded like he was attempting to quell her fears. Her
expression showed her to be less then convinced.
Paul backed up, and went down another corridor.
Paul had decided to visit his cousin David.
He sat on a prayer cloth, his eyes closed. He was naked save for a
loin cloth. He looked like a living Buddha.
The room was furnished in Eastern chic. Red draperies hung from the
walls. Gold Buddha's smiled from pedestals. A crystal ball sat in a
corner. Books lined the shelf. Most dealt with magic, but some were
on
paranormal subjects.
Paul watched the guardian of the Holy Grail. He didn't stir. Paul
came
in, and sat on a cushion. The smell of incense was in the air. Paul
sat and waited.
Finally, David opened his eyes, and spotted Paul. He smiled.
"Hello, cousin" He said, and Paul responded.
David picked up a tea cup, and handed it to him. Paul bowed his head,
and then sipped the cup. He winced slightly.
"You're certainly calm" He said to his cousin.
"It's all in the mind" He said, and smiled again.
Paul sighed, said "With your mind, that's not hard."
David only smiled, said "I'm keeper of the Holy Grail. That confers a
certain peaceful state of mind. The Multiverse offers the ultimate
peace, in a way."
"I suppose."
"You live a little different life on each plane of the Multiverse. A
bit of each of us lives on. All eternal."
Paul shrugged. He'd heard this spiel before. He's walked the paths of
the Multiverse before, seeking adventures and discovery between the
worlds. It was an exhilarating experience.
He said "What do your instincts say?"
David looked quizzical, said "About what?"
"Our chances."
David closed his eyes again. The smell of incense and the ticking
clock were all that moved. The red glow calmed Paul. David finally
opened his eyes with a sigh.
"It's too muddled. The gates aren't as controlled as they were.
Access
points are in flux."
"Fuck" Paul said. David ignored his vulgarity, said "It seems that
Walker and his cronies, and allies, are successfully throwing the
balance."
Paul sighed, said "Wish the solution was that simple."
David nodded, said "That's the trick. But, until they are dealt with,
we're stuck on this plane."
"In flux, eh?"
Robert McCarthy stared out the large windows on the recreation area.
Sunlight illuminated the large room. His damaged arm hung at his
side.
Paul had just told him his cousin's warning.
Robert McCarthy said "Another 'Wish I was surprised' moment."
Paul nodded. Robert had absorbed the info calmly. Surprise, when
dealing with their former government, was exhausted.
"The solution," He said, "Is obviously trickier."
"That's what I told him," Paul commented.
"Dangerous. Near impossible. Necessary, but impossible." He shook his
head.
"We couldn't use the ship," He continued, "It'd have to be a small
force, and even then, we couldn't get him at the capitol. It'd have
to
be that ranch at Waco."
"Even that's heavily defended."
"True. But, it's still a much easier target. But, getting the
members!"
Paul nodded.
"We can't spare anyone here," Robert pressed on, "And our allies out
of the country would have a hard time getting anyone in."
The Walker administration had effectively sealed the borders. This
had
thrown many industries into chaos. Import and export stopped. Prices
tripled. No US industry was unaffected. He sighed.
"Looks like," He said, "That we'll just have to ride it out."
They both sighed heavily. They hated feeling so powerless.
"It's been quiet. To quite."
Calvin sat back in his chair. His words hung heavy in the air. It was
true. They had not been attacked for a week now, and all aboard felt
one was overdue. And they didn't expect a small-arms fight, either.
Calvin turned, glared at Paul.
"Your relative is a dreamer," He said.
"A romantic," Shane Bruce said from the back of the bridge. He
lounged
at a communication station. He had his hands behind his head. Paul
shrugged.
Chi Fang said "Never mind, Paul. They have not trod the moonlight
roads between the worlds, or rode the scales, or explored the world's
beyond."
"I never knew," Calvin said, "That you were such a romantic too."
She shrugged. She was again overdressed in the bulky oversized fur
coat. Tight blue jeans and cowboy boots completed the ensemble.
"There is lot you don't know about me" she said, rising. As she
passed
Shane's chair, she stopped and pointed.
"How long has that been on?" She asked.
Shane shrugged, said "Since I got here."
She picked up the communication headphones. She listened briefly, and
then
chuckled.
"This you gotta hear," She said, reaching down to switch on the
speakers.
"..and surrender to the proper authorities. Repeat: You are hereby
ordered by the President of the Federal States of Holy Christ Jesus
to
cease your illegal activities and lawless flight and surrender to the
proper authorities," a voice droned, until Chi Fang turned it back
off. Calvin laughed.
"Surrender? To them?" He howled.
"We'd be signing our own death warrant" Shane muttered.
In the Amazon, the Barf Group disguised themselves as West Germans,
filming a movie about dreams and transporting a big boat overland.
Paul floated down the Amazon, searching for Yage.
In Wismar, Germany, Paul and Brooks dressed as Nosferato and
Rensfield.
In Tokyo, the Barf Group dressed up as color-coded rangers and struck
poses for the population.
In Sendai, the Barf Group disguised themselves as a 1920's theatre
troop and put on an improvised show.
Old Ron the junkie smiled.
His teeth were milky, as was his skin. Old tracks marred his arms and
hands. He handed Paul two papers. He copped them, passing money back
to him. Ron smiled again.
"Always glad to help our neighbors to the north" He said, flashing
the
junkie smile again. Paul shrugged. He sipped at his beer.
The old junkie went on, examining his nails.
"Dealing and using is the same thing, of course. I've never met a
dealer who wasn't also using. It's a given. And that damned La
Llorona
whose papers are shit. Only real business in this town. And the full
support of the law. Your president can only dream of that."
"He's hardly my president" Paul grumbled.
"I didn't mean it like that, of course. Not everyone in your country
supports him. No matter what they try to say otherwise. It's a fact
that he is despised inside and out side your country."
The street they walked down was at one rich with shops and littered
with downtrodden. Cops relaxed against buildings. The street itself
cracked under their feet. Shops were barely open.
"What happened" Ron said "To the city I grew up in?"
Paul shrugged. He'd asked himself that more then once himself. The
march of time obliterated old mementos of misspent youths. He felt
entropy hitting, encroaching ever so slowly. Things were running
down.
Paul lay on his bed. He'd just taken a large dose. He could barely
keep his eyes open. Blood dripped from his arm.
Shadows resolved into threatening shapes.
His eyes closed.
Blood hit the floor.