Showing posts with label Virus. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Virus. Show all posts

Thursday 28 January 2021

But We Have The Antidote, Right Here --





DavidBlaine
Perhaps you need to see some real magic.

[floats up to Lincoln's left foot and touches it. His magic infuses the statue with life, and Lincoln breaks free from his chair]

Lincoln
Raaargh! 
[steps down towards the crowd]

Buddha
Oh this looks like trouble.

Blaine
[floating high above the crowd] 
So long, Super Best Fools!

Stan
[reaches Kyle] 
Kyle!

Kyle
Stan!
Stan
Kyle, you can't kill yourself!

Kyle
I don't want to kill myself. 
They rigged this thing to fill with water! 

[tremulous footsteps are felt, and Lincoln is shown walking among the crowd of Blaintologists]

Jesus
We've gotta stop that oversized Abraham Lincoln! Mohammad! 

[Mohammad rises into the air and blasts Lincoln with flames. Lincoln growls and swats Mohammad away with ease
Great Scott!

Cartman
[trying to drown himself from the edge of the Reflecting Pool] 
Bliegh! [rises. His body is on land] Yugh. Uh, okay, try again. Hep [dunks his head in the water again].

Shot of Washington D.C. from the Vietnam Memorial. Lincoln is taking buildings off their foundations and tossing them aside. Krishna, in the form of an eagle, flies over the scene. 
Flames are everywhere.

Mohammad
It is Too Powerful, Jesus!

Krishna
[lands] 
It seems to have No Weakness!

Jesus
There has to be a way to destroy it. 
[raises his left wrist to speak into the watch] 
Jesus to Moses!


The Hall of Super Best Friends, day, at that moment

Narrator
Meanwhile, at the Super Best Friends League...

Jesus
Come in, Moses!

Moses
What?

Jesus
We need to know How to Kill 
A Giant Stone Abraham Lincoln.

Moses
...Um... Let me think, um... 
A Giant Stone John Wilkes Booth...?

Jesus
[thinks for a moment
You heard him, Super Best Friends! 
We've got to make a Giant Stone John Wilkes Booth!

Mohammad
Krishna, we're going to need wood for a mold!

Krishna
Form of... a beaver! 
[transforms into a beaver and runs off to chop down trees]

Mohammad
I will find sources to concrete. [points to Seaman] You, get the water to mix it with, Seaman. [the other friends laugh]
Narrator
Using the wood that Krishna cut down as a beaver, Jesus uses his master carpentry skills to make a giant mold.
Jesus
That should do the trick. Now for some concrete.
Narrator
Meanwhile, in the ocean depths, Seaman seeks out water to mix with the concrete.
Seaman
Sea-Man! [lands on the ocean bottom] Look, Swallow, we should be able to divert the water with that pipe.

And so, Seaman and Swallow get to... get to work [laughs]
The Reflecting Pool, later. 
Water fills the bubble Kyle is in, and he struggles to breathe

Stan
Kyle, you have to hold your breath! 
[a giant stone hand comes down and grabs the bubble as Stan looks on helplessly. Everyone backs away from the stone Lincoln as it holds Kyle in its left hand. Lincoln shakes Kyle around like a snow globe, and Stan gets mad] 
Oh, very funny! 

[Seaman and Joseph Smith pour the raw materials needed for a statue into Jesus' mold, and Mohammad fires the statue like a piece of clay. The likeness of John Wilkes Booth appears on the statue]

Jesus :
Lao Tse, Bring it to Life. 

Lao Tse puts index fingers to temples and shuts his eyes to concentrate on the task at hand


Using his power of Taoism, Lao Tse becomes one with the giant stone John Wilkes Booth. 

[the Booth statue begins to move. It breaks out of its mold, walks up behind the Lincoln statue, and fires one stone bullet into the back of Lincoln's head. Lincoln's head jerks back, and he falls forward, ending up face down. The bubble falls out of his hand and breaks up on the ground. Kyle is washed out]

Kyle
Wagh. [sits up]

Saturday 9 January 2021

PURITY CONTROL






The method, as they call it, though it was more so a germ-line procedure of singular meta-scientific complexity, had been given to them by the alien colonists as a quid pro quo. The Syndicate would help them to create a population of alien hybrids who would hide in plain sight, cloned from human ova and alien bio-material, so there would be a clone race immune to the effects of the black oil when the return to the planet began. For this, the Syndicate would be sequestered, granted a sort of immunity or asylum, given a place in the grander scheme.

They were the Vichy government to the German "Final Solution": collaborationists whose motivation was simple, self-directed survival. These cloning operations were spread across the country, the cataloging and record-keeping done through a complex intra-institutional system that connected to every branch of government, from the Social Security Administration to the Department of Defense.

"The operation, under the working title "Purity Control," had been launched in 1948, its original conception the brainchild of German scientists given immunity themselves for war crimes, and allowed to continue the eugenic experiments that were Hitler's dark legacy.

The Syndicate had begun as a subset of a shadow intelligence agency whose original orders were to create plausible denial and an effective cover-up of Purity Control. But through 50 years, numerous U.S. and U.N. administrations, the principals began to wrest control, accumulating power and influence across international borders, such that - by 1990 - the operation ceased to have a member accountable to any one government and whose only orders would be taken from a man named Strughold, a German industrialist who had fled his homeland to northern Africa.

These men, whose knowledge and access provided control of a foreseeable future, had, in spite of this, everything to lose. Their secret work, the cloning preparations and the cataloging, constituted their greatest vulnerability: exposure. Their detection would ensure not just their own demise but a far-reaching dissolution of social and religious order around the globe.

To protect against this, the Syndicate employed methods of disinformation, using covert government programs that had been regrettably discovered, as a kind of smokescreen - a dodge or blind where the transgressions of Congress-accountable agencies served to hide their own more odious undertaking.

They had even at times used the UFO phenomenon to create a hysteria that science and the intelligentsia denounced, so completely, as to make belief in believers seem ridiculous and completely discreditable.

They had also, in a crisis, used a tool of the colonists themselves - alien bounty hunters who policed the cloning operations and enforced rule on the countdown to colonization. A double-edged sword whose cold-blooded tactics had helped to stem a leak or threat, but who also kept a watch on the Syndicate. A threat in itself, as the Syndicate had something to hide that not even the colonists knew of: a vaccine against the black oil, an inoculant against the substance in which the alien life force was held - in fact, the very medium of the life force itself.

To guard this secret was perhaps even more critical than the truth of the existence of alien life, and of colonization. If the Syndicate's own secret vaccine were discovered, the vaccine that would make themselves immune from the effects of the black oil, they would certainly be destroyed and the timetable for colonization stepped up. They would protect this secret with their lives. They would kill to protect it, as it symbolized the only hope they had of avoiding enslavement when the planet was overtaken.

That they had been able to, over decades, conduct their work on the vaccine undetected was the result of a code among the Syndicate members that put honor and the future above personal politics. But now this code was beginning to break down, an incipient scramble for power beginning to develop. A threat from within that doubled the threat from without: from agents Mulder and Scully, and the X-files.”




Friday 13 November 2020

Monkey Brains


MAN LOOKING AT GRAPH: 
There's a contaminant in The System!

(Cancer Man looks at the graph in HORROR --)

Cigarette-Smoking Man : 
Mulder has The Vaccine!




If it fooled you, it will fool The Cybermen. 

They're robots, but they've got Monkey Brains. 

You can always fool a Monkey Brain with a little bit of Theatre.



Let’s go in there and give Them something They cannot digest. 
Something They cannot process. 

Something So Toxic, 
So Dangerous, So Powerful.. 

That it Will Breed, 
and 
Destroy Them UTTERLY.

Not Destroy Them – turn Them into Us. 
Because That’s What We Want

We want everybody to be cool. 

We don’t want to go in and think: 
“That guy over there’s gonna kill me; that guy hates me; that guy’s got some fucking weird agenda.”

Don’t we just wanna talk? And let it all go, and just say: 
“Hey, I’m interested in you; 
What have you got to tell me?”

That’s what it’s all about, isn’t it? 
We communicate; 
We join up; 
We make networks; 
We make things happen.

And there are Some People in The World 
Who Don’t Wanna Do That.

So let Us infect Them.

Infect Them to the point where They become Us.
Where there’s nothing left in This World, but Us.

And then some kid’ll come up and fuck that as well.
And that’ll be exactly what we need at the time.

And that’s me finished, so thank you very much.












SCENE 20 
HOSPITAL

FROHIKE: 
What are you doing?

LANGLY: 
Reading his chart.

FROHIKE: 
Put it down.

LANGLY: 
I'll put it down when I'm ready.

BYERS: 
I think he's coming out of it.

LANGLY: 
He's coming to.

(The screen now shows a close-up view of our boys, The Lone Gunmen, as they hover over Mulder's hospital bed. Mulder is being fed oxygen through a tube in his nose, his head wrapped in bandages.)

FROHIKE
Hey, Mulder? Mulder?

MULDER
Oh my God. 
Cowardly Lion, Scarecrow, Toto!

Frohike's not pleased with the joke, 
but at least his friend is all right. 

Mulder tries to sit up and winces in pain, holding his head.

MULDER: 
What am I doing here?

BYERS: 
The bullet grazed your brow and (by itself?) your temporal plate.

LANGLY: 
A few centimeters to the left and we'd all be playing harps right now.

FROHIKE: 
You've been unconscious since they brought you in.

MULDER: 
(shooting up in the bed) 
Where's Scully?!

BYERS: 
We put together you called 911. 
That call must have been intercepted.

FROHIKE: 
Scully had a reaction to an Africanized honeybee 
we found in your hall.

Frohike holds up a vial containing the bee.

MULDER: 
I've got to get to her.

(Mulder attempts to stand up, is woozy and staggers a bit before sitting right back down. His door opens and Skinner walks in, going quickly to the staggering Mulder and helping to hold him up before he falls on his butt.)

SKINNER: 
Mulder, easy, easy. Look, you're staying right here.

MULDER: 
You don't understand, 
This goes all the way back to Dallas.

SKINNER: 
Tell me where she is, I'll find her.

MULDER: 
I don't know where she is! 
But I can think of someone who might.

SKINNER: 
You leave here unprotected, how far will you get? 
How far will they let you get? 
Because they'll know the minute you walk out of here!

LANGLY: 
What can we do?

(Mulder half-looks around at Langly, thinks a minute then formulates a plan.)

MULDER: 
You can strip Byers naked!

BYERS: 
What?!

Mulder reassures him they haven't slipped into a gizzie-penned fanfic! 
[An old atxf newsgroup joke! ]

MULDER: 
I need your clothes.

Mulder begins to tenderly remove his head bandage, 
wincing again. 

Next we see Langly, Frohike, and Mulder, disguised as Byers, exit the room. 

The guard outside the room looks in and sees "Mulder" 
lying on the hospital bed and Skinner pacing beside him talking into his cell phone. 

The three men walk down a hallway, Mulder's suit just a teeny bit too small for him and he picks up his cell phone.

MULDER: 
(into phone) 
It’s Mulder.

Langly closes the exit door behind Mulder. 

Next we see Mulder running down a nighttime street, 
ditching his jacket as he runs. 

The scene changes to an alleyway as Kurtzweil walks along, 
his senses alert to any footsteps behind him. 

He goes to open what we assume is the alleyway door to Casey's Bar 
and is shocked to be confronted by .... 
The Well-Manicured Man!



SCENE 21 
CASEY'S BAR

WMM: 
Dr. Kurtzweil, isn't it? 
Dr. Alvin Kurtzweil?

Kurtzweil backs away, turns around and begins walking quickly down the alley. 

A black car pulls into the other end of the alley, trapping him. 
The Driver gets out, Kurtzweil stares in shock and concern 
and we cut to inside Casey's Bar as Mulder bursts in the door. 

He looks around the bar for Kurtzweil, but doesn't see him. 

Mulder leaves through the back door, entering the alleyway. 

He sees WMM and His Driver slamming the trunk of their car closed. 

WMM turns to face Mulder.

WMM
Mr. Mulder.

MULDER: 
What happened to Kurtzweil?

WMM
He's come and gone.

MULDER: 
I want to know where Scully is.

WMM: 
holds up a small pouch 
The Location of Agent Scully 
and 
The Means to Save Her Life. 

(gesturing to the car

Please....

Mulder contemplates this offer for a minute, 
then figuring he has nothing more to lose, 
he walks to the car as he and WMM 
never take their eyes off each other. 

They each open their own doors and enter the car. 

It takes off immediately. 

As they cruise past The White House, 
WMM hands Mulder The Pouch.



SCENE 22 
INSIDE WMM'S CAR

MULDER: 
What is it?

As WMM speaks, Mulder opens the pouch 
and pulls out a small bottle of green liquid 
and a piece of paper with this written on it :

South 83 Deg Lat 
East 63 Deg Long

WMM: 
A Weak Vaccine against 
The Virus Agent Scully has been infected with. 

It must be administered within 96 hours. 

That leaves you little time to reach those coordinates.

MULDER
You're lying.

WMM: 
No. Though I have no means to prove otherwise. 

The Virus is extra-terrestrial. 

We know very little about it except that it was 
The Original Inhabitant of This Planet.

MULDER: 
(unbelieving
A Virus...

WMM
What is A Virus, but A Colonising Force 
that cannot be defeated? 

Living in A Cave, underground, 
until it mutates ... and attacks.


MULDER
This is what you've been conspiring to conceal? 
A Disease?

WMM: 
No. For God's sake, you've got it all backwards! 

AIDS, the Ebola virus, 
on an evolutionary scale they are newborns. 

This Virus Walked The Planet 
long before The Dinosaurs.

MULDER: 
(smiling in disbelief
What do you mean 'walked'?

WMM: 
Your Aliens, Agent Mulder. 

Your Little Green Men 
arrived here millions of years ago. 

Those that didn't leave have been lying dormant underground since The Last Ice Age 
in the form of An Evolved Pathogen
waiting to be reconstituted by The Alien Race 
when it comes to colonize the planet -- 
Using Us as Hosts.

 Against this we have no defense, 
nothing but a weak vaccine. 

Do you see why it was kept secret? 

Why even The Best Men, 
Men like Your Father, 
could not let The Truth be known. 

Until Dallas we believed The Virus 
would simply control us, 
that mass infection would make Us 
A Slave Race. 

Imagine our surprise 
when They began to gestate

My Group has been working cooperatively 
with The Alien Colonists, 
facilitating programs 
like the one you saw, 
to give us access to The Virus 
in The Hope that we might 
be able to secretly develop A Cure.

MULDER
To save your own asses.

Well-Manicured Man
Survival is The Ultimate Ideology. 
Your Father wisely refused to believe this.

MULDER
But He Sacrificed My Sister. 

He let Them take Samantha.

Well-Manicured Man
Without a Vaccination, the only True Survivors of The Viral Holocaust will be those immune to it - 
Human-Alien Clones

He allowed Your Sister to be abducted, 
to be taken to a cloning program, 

For One Reason...

MULDER: 
So She Would Survive

As a Genetic Hybrid.

Well-Manicured Man : 
Your Father chose 
Hope over Selfishness.
 
Hope in the only Future he had, 
His Children.

His Hope for You was that you would uncover 
The Truth about The Project

That you would stop it, 
that you would 
Fight The Future.


Mulder lets it all sink in. 

The Driver's eyes look at him 
through the rear-view mirror. 

Darn good driver 
if he ain't watching The Road!

MULDER
Why are you telling me this?

Well-Manicured Man : 
For The Sake of My Own Children. 

Once it's learned what I have told you, 
My Life Will Be Over.

WMM looks ahead, possibly at The Driver. 
Mulder looks at The Driver.

MULDER: 
Where's Dr. Kurtzweil? 
(no response
I'd like to get out of the car now. 
(to The Driver)
 Stop The Car!

WMM: 
Driver. 

The Car pulls to a stop in yet another alleyway.

The Men I Work With 
will stop at nothing to clear the way 
for what They believe 
is Their stake in The Inevitable Future.
 
I was ordered to kill Dr. Kurtzweil, 
as I was ordered to kill you.

Suddenly, WMM grabs a gun (from his lap?) 
and shoots The Driver in the back of the head, BLAMMO! Mulder recoils.

MULDER:
Ow!

WMM: 
Trust No-One, Mr. Mulder.

WMM opens his own door and exits, holding the door open.

WMM: 
Get out of the car.

MULDER: 
Why? The upholstery is already ruined.

WMM: 
Get out of the car! 
(Mulder scoots over to WMM's door and exits the car.) 
You have precious little time. 

(Mulder slams the door shut angrily.) 

What I've given you 
The Alien Colonists don't yet know exists

The Vaccine you hold 
is The Only Defense against The Virus. 

Its introduction into An Alien Environment 
may have The Power to destroy 
the delicate plans 
we have so assiduously protected 
for the last 50 years!

MULDER
What do you mean, "may" have?

WMM
Find Agent Scully. 

Only then will you realise 
The Scope and Grandeur 
of The Project. 

Go. Go now!

WMM points his gun in Mulder's face. 

Mulder starts to walk away, 
WMM opens his door again, a rat scuttles past, 
WMM reenters the limo, closes The Door 
and it explodes, knocking Mulder off his feet. 

He sits on the ground watching the flames burn, 
then pulls out The Pouch and checks to see that the bottle is still intact. 

It is. He puts it back in the pouch, gets up and after one last look at the burning car, begins to run for His Life.



SCENE 23 
WILKES LAND, ANTARCTICA 
48 HOURS LATER

Through the vast whiteness of the snow-covered land we see a small black dot. It's Mulder driving a Sno-Cat. He wipes away the condensation forming on the inside of his window and squints his eyes to see where he's going. The camera shows his vehicle leaving tracks in the virgin snow. He whacks his gas gauge and it keeps flipping back to empty. He checks the coordinates again, stops the Sno-Cat and holds up a hand-held thingy which tells him he's at the exact place he's supposed to be. He looks out the window at a hillside, sighs and we next see him struggling up the hill. He reaches the top, slips a little, then hunkers down and looks at a base of some kind in the distance. He whips out a pair of binoculars and looks through to see more Sno-Cats lined up, one of them moving. It stops, he adjusts the power to see closer and spots Cancer Man in the vehicle. He puts the binoculars away and starts to walk towards the base. It soon turns into a jog as he gets closer, but he suddenly falls through the ice as it collapses beneath his feet. He falls quite a way through a snowy tunnel, then lands in an icy crevice. 

He takes a minute to catch his breath, stands up slowly 
and peers down a hole leading off from the crevice, 
steam rising from it. 

He positions himself so he can crawl down this hole 
and turns around at the end so he drops feet-first onto a huge metallic structure. 

It's a type of hallway and on either side of him are containers of some sort. 

He whips out his flashlight to investigate further. 

Wiping the snow away from one of the containers, a cryopod, he spots a prehistoric man encased in ice.

Meanwhile, back on the surface, a Sno-Cat drives up, 
Cancer Man seated inside, and it stops. 

Cancer Man looks at Mulder's abandoned Sno-Cat 
and takes a slow puff of his ciggie.

Back under the ice, Mulder finds stacks and stacks of these coffin-like cryopods, piled row upon row. He walks further into the structure and finds an area opened up, somewhat like a hospital's operating theatre. He stands in the middle and looks in awe at the huge structure before his eyes. Hundreds, more than likely thousands of these rows stand before him. Where to begin looking for Scully? 

A movement catches his eye near the bottom of the rows. 

A rack of these cryopods are moving as if on a conveyer belt. 

He looks through his binoculars, but I can't tell you what he sees, it's very vague! 

Must have seen something though as he springs into action. 

He begins to maneuver his way down to the moving cryopods, 
hanging by his hands, his feet dangling over The Edge.

Suddenly, he loses his grip and shouts ...

MULDER: 
Oh, shit!

... as he begins to fall helplessly. 
He falls down the side of a wall, sliding out of control until he lands harshly on a ledge, hanging by one hand as he teeters over the edge. A bottomless well of metal lies below, the belly of the beast-ship. Using his legs and feet to anchor himself, he makes his way around the edge-corner and ends up sitting, catching his breath. The flashlight in use again, he slides gently over a huge cylinder, landing on a walkway. At the end, he finds an empty cryopod ... containing Scully's clothes and her cross necklace. He grips the necklace in one hand and sets off determined to find her. He comes upon a rack of the cryopods, shining his flashlight from one to another, a frozen face in each caught by his beams. The eyes on each one are open in shock, their mouths held open by a tube, a picture of silent horror. Finally, the flashlight lands on his quarry .... Scully! Using his hand and then the butt of his flashlight, he begins to hammer at the ice keeping her captive.

(Back above the ice, we see a Sno-Cat driving, then we cut to somewhere else inside the base, a flurry of activity as soldiers scurry about and Cancer Man barks instructions.)

CSM: 
Secure the station! 
I want everyone else down below! 
If you're not armed, arm yourselves! 
We have a breach!

(Cut back to Mulder who has now hauled off a piece of a nearby cryopod and is pounding on the ice as he desperately tries to save her from her ice-coffin.)

(Cut to Cancer Man hustling his men down some ladders.)

CSM: 
Let's go, let's go!

(Back to Mulder as he finally breaks through the ice releasing an ocean of goo which encased her naked body. He pulls away the few remaining shards of ice and stares at her face. Is he too late? Mulder unwraps the bottle of vaccine and fills the needle. He injects the vaccine into Scully and it's effect is immediate. Within the tube connected to her mouth a liquid appears to retreat from her body, the tube begins to shrivel and die.)

MULDER: 
Scully?

(As he goes to touch the now dead tube and pull it from Scully's mouth, a violent shaking takes over the ship, a reaction to the vaccine's unwanted intrusion.)

(Cut to Cancer Man in a room full of equipment and monitors. A man is seated in front of a monitor showing a graph of some kind.)

MAN LOOKING AT GRAPH: 
There's a contaminant in The System!

(Cancer Man looks at the graph in shock.)

CSM: 
Mulder has the vaccine!

(Back to Mulder. The cryopod hallway he's in begins to fill with steam as it shoots out from the floor and ceiling. Mulder turns back to Scully and sees her move. He grabs the tube and begins to drag it out of her throat. Once it's all removed, and it's a long sucker, so it takes a sec or two, Mulder stares at her, waiting for a sign of some kind.)

MULDER: 
Breathe! 
Scully, can you breathe?!

(Scully begins to cough, spitting out what's left of the slimy goo. Finally she starts breathing on her own, gasping for each sweet taste of oxygen. She tries to speak and barely manages a weak ..)

SCULLY: 
Cold ... I'm cold.

MULDER: 
I'm going to get you out of there.

(He starts to whack away at the ice with a metallic cylinder next to him, probably shaken loose by the rocking and rolling the ship is still experiencing.)

(Cut to the graph/monitor room, sparks flying from various machines as the men are tossed like ragdolls. It's time to give up the ship, boys.)

CSM: 
Abandon your posts! Evacuate!

(Cancer Man walks towards one of the ladders the men are now scrambling down. Another man stops and says ..)

MAN:
What's happened?!

CSM: 
It's all gone to hell!

MAN: 
But, what about Mulder?!

CSM: 
He'll never make it!

Cut back to Mulder as he gently lifts a naked Scully out of the cryopod, her body glistening with goo, and lays her down on the floor. Next we see him carrying her. She's now wearing some of Mulder's clothing, right down to a pair of boots, don't ask me where THEY came from! He reaches the bottom of a metallic shaft, sunlight beaming down upon them.)

(Cut to outside as an alarm sounds and men race out from the domes, running for the various Sno-Cats. Cancer Man gets into one, his mouth dangling open in shock as it "all falls apart". The vehicles drive off.)

(Back to Mulder and Scully as he drags her up a ladder. Far below them, the defrosting has begun and water drips down the walls.)

(From above, we see the Sno-Cats leaving, one passing within inches of the top of a shaft leading to our heroes.)

(Cut to inside where Mulder and Scully have found a momentary resting place. Scully is coughing and weak. Mulder urges her on.)

MULDER: 
We gotta keep moving. Come on!

SCULLY: 
I can't.

MULDER: 
Yeah, you can.

(Mulder picks her up and carries her in a fireman's lift, over his shoulders. He walks down a row of crypods, all ominously dripping with water from the defrosting ice. He spots a vent.)

MULDER: 
Scully, reach up and grab that vent!

(Suddenly, he spots movement in one of the pods. The creatures within have begun to stir. The vaccine has affected the whole structure, as the bodies were all obviously attached to the one creature.)

MULDER: 
Scully, grab the vent! (no response) 
Scully?

(He looks at her face on his shoulder, she's passed out. Mulder slides her off his shoulders, placing her on the floor and checks for a pulse. The creatures nearby, still encased in the swiftly melting ice are now violently thrashing about and emitting their high-pitched screams. With one eye on the creatures and one eye on Scully, Mulder begins performing a mean version of CPR.)

MULDER: 
Please, breathe. Breathe ... breathe .... BREATHE!

(Scully begins to cough and splutter as she regains consciousness.)

MULDER: 
Breathe in, breathe in, breathe!

(She begins to try and speak, he has to place his ear almost on her mouth to hear.)

SCULLY: 
I had you big time.

(She smiles at him. No time for jokes, Scully, the aliens are coming! As Mulder pulls her to her feet, the ice-encased cryopods around them start to crack open as the creatures within begin to break free. He holds her up to the vent above her.)

MULDER: 
Grab the vent. 
Pull! PULL!

(Scully grabs the vent and pulls herself up. Mulder starts to climb up. One of the aliens breaks the pod and reaches out with its hand for Mulder. It grabs Mulder's leg. Scully stops and turns his head.)

SCULLY: 
Mulder!

MULDER: 
Keep moving, Scully!

(Mulder kicks it away and pulls himself up. They both climb through the tunnel, Mulder yelling encouragement from behind.)

MULDER: 
Go! Go! Come on!

(He keeps checking behind him as the alien screams continue, looking for any which may be chasing them. The light at the end of the proverbial tunnel gets brighter as they climb on.)

MULDER: 
Almost there, keep going!

(They pull themselves up to where Mulder first stopped after he fell through the ice, a slight turn in the vent. Just as Mulder clears the turn, an alien lashes out from behind but is cut off by the twist in the tunnel. They step over the part where Mulder first fell all the way down and make their way out the hole he originally made. Scully falls onto the snow, exhausted and Mulder perches next to her on one knee. He hears a sound and looks around for the origin. It's the ice ... it's cracking under their feet! He grabs Scully and throws one of her arms over his shoulder as they begin to run away. He stops for some ungodly reason and looks back seeing vents of steam starting to shoot out of the ice. They begin to run again as the ice begins cracking and falling away causing a huge crater to form. Suddenly the crater overtakes them and they disappear into the hole, but next we see them shoot into the air and slide off of the surface of the rising ship. They land on the edge of the crater. Mulder watches the spaceship as it flies overhead, his face glows with a heart-melting grin of childlike wonder and awe. Scully's face is turned towards the snow, too tired to move, as Mulder says, almost along with the audience ...)

MULDER: 
Scully, ya gotta see this! Scully!

(It's quiet, it's barely a mutter above a whisper, but we hear ...)

SCULLY: 
I see it.

(Spent from exhaustion, Mulder drops his head into the snow. Scully, finding the strength God gave 20 hearty men, scoots her body over to cover him from the freezing cold. She lifts his into her arms and cradles him as the camera pans back to show two lone figures perched alone on the edge of the bottomless crater left by the departing spaceship. Cut to Washington and don't start with me on how they got out of the Antarctic, there was extra gas can in the Sno-Cat, I don't know!)




Thursday 23 November 2017

Retrovirus - Hollywood Discredits The Meme



retrovirus was a biological particle that infects cells. It reproduced itself by converting its RNA to DNA and incorporating that code into its host cell's genome. The host cell then produced more copies of the retrovirus, possibly leading to its destruction.

Retroviruses could be used as a vector to introduce foreign genes into a cell. The Taresians used retroviruses to transform males from other species into Taresians for mating purposes. (VOY: "Favorite Son")

In late 2370, the Pakleds crossed theDemilitarized Zone to supply theCardassians with a shipment of retrovirus vaccines. (TNG: "Preemptive Strike")

In an illusory future (set in 2383),Beverly Crusher described Will Riker's memory loss as the result of Altarian encephalitis, a retrovirus. This later proved to be, seemingly, part of the Romulan equivalent of a holoprogram. (TNG: "Future Imperfect")

After a pair of Tarkaleans had been infected with Borg nanoprobes in 2153Phlox attempted to slow the devices' progress with a modified retrovirus, with no appreciable affect. (ENT: "Regeneration")

In 2375The Doctor's annual physicals found a nascent alien retrovirus "bouncing" between USS Voyager personnel on decks 10 and 11. He successfully halted its progress. (VOY: "Latent Image")


Mutagenic retrovirus

mutagenic retrovirus was a type of biogenic weapon, comprised of genetically engineered viruses. When used on a population, mutagenic retroviruses could cause millions of casualties in a short period of time.

In 2373, the Regent of Palamar purchased a quantity of mutagenic retrovirus from Hagath and Gaila's arms business for use against General Nassuc's homeworld

However, Quark, unwilling to have the deaths of 28 million people on his conscience, told them that their supplier had sold all his stock to the Minnobia for their war against the Vek. (DS9: "Business as Usual")

Friday 2 June 2017

The Diagnosis of The Sickness

And now... The Prologue....

(Which, in the finest tradition of the ascended master of smutty innuendo and camp vocalisation par excellence, My Teacher, Frankie Howerd, will of course take up almost as much, if not more of the column inches and word count in this piece as the actual main point of me writing this article - if all you came here for is practical advice, organising tips or agitprop polemic (and 'ting) for post-Refferendum, pre-actual BreXit in Free Britania to give power and inspiration to those engaged with The Work - scroll down to the next place where you see my eye next to  "Does Anyone here like money...?", well done and good for you. Good soldiers, we're relying on you to carry us through.

Next time, try to bring a friend with you.

For anyone up for hearing me tell you all a story about equal parts Trendy Lefty 1980s Right-On GLC Gay Rights and Sexual Politics under Thatcher (and how everyone involved with it started out more or less totally barmy, and set out to drive all the rest of us completely insane, making them look more or less sane, rational and sensible (and it worked)), and equal parts how Margaret Thatcher and her Grantham Grocer Protestant Work-Ethic World-View of non-procreative sex of any kind (translation : Sodomy) came to be taught in every classroom in the land, preached daily from every studio or window of Auntie BBC (whilst making us pay for it), and posted, jn bald, stark tombstone plague-panic manifesto form through the front door letterbox of every home in England Scotland, Wales and Northernn Ireland - like State-Sponsored Jehovahs Witnessing. And how that made us all completely insane, because we Carrie around a facsimile copy of Margeret Thatcher's own sexual morality with us inside all our heads. And still do, some of us. I don't repress....Je ne regrets reins.)

For all of those people - Titter Ye Not. I present to you : 
The Prologue.

How the Thatcher Government, with the full, knowing and willing collusion and collaboration of Auntie BBC taught me to be afraid of sex and physical intimacy before I every really knew what it was....


Because IF you have unprotected sex (or if the bag breaks on you) WITH ANYONE, ESPECIALLY Girls, you WILL get AIDS and you WILL die. Here's how (in my head), that worked (works) :

Back at the very tail end, the fag-end, you might say, of the late 1980s, when I was very, very young and very, very, very stupid, when I trusted, believed, expected the BBC to tell the truth, the one, true, honest-to-goodness truth, and nothing BUT the truth (especially via the medium of television in the form of dramatic episodic fiction and situation comedy) back when I watched and learnt first from Rodney and Del Boy in Only Fools and Horses, that the deadly killer AIDS Boogie-Man was associated with the blood and saliva of homosexual men named Jason who cut hair (sorry, they style  hair in Salons, heterosexual men cut hair, and get their hair cut (no-nonsense, 5 mins in-out, clippers, trim hot towel, Old Spice, no waiting, no rimming and no fanning about with gel) in Barbers'shops, a high street trade with a LONG and rich history of always being CLEAN, free from any complicated infections or diseases associated with a long and lingering, dehumanising process of living DEATH), and also Old Slappers who function as the council estate bike, (with a fabby like a wizard's sleeve or a cocktail chippolatta being thrown inside the Royal Albert Hall), but that it's spreading, anyone can get it, if you have sex or exchange blood with an "infected" person with "The Virus", you will become infected, you will go into a rapid and terminal decline within weeks or months of first seeing your Doctor about a purple rash, you will die for certain, and you will pass on this death mark, this death sentence if you EVER AGAIN know the touch of a beautiful woman....

Or a really hot man, obviously. But then, the things they get up to...

They Know the Risks - it's their decision to play with fire, Russian roulette, loving one another, physically, so much, and so many of them, so frequently, in rooms with SO many other people... 

DIRTY - What did they THINK was going to happen as a consequence of all their filthy bum-sperm habits....



That was BAD AIDS.

In contrast to Mark Fowler on Eastenders, who contracted this dread disease (which caused him to turn into a completely different actor), accidentally, through no fault of his own, or the result of a habitual pattern of poor life choices as a result of misfortune and, rotten timing and as tragic result of unfortunate circumstance, through a tragic, random twist of fate that resulting in his exposure to the virus on account of it being injected into him completely by mistake as the blood residue drying along the length of a pre-used hyperdermic needle shared with his INFECTED (100% Straight, FEMALE), living-in-sin girlfriend; the random, completely blind change horrible and lethal misfortune  being that they were both  filthy, stinking, good-for-nothing Heroin junkies living together in a squat and using the same needle and the same syringe to share their Horse-fix and shoot up together with a shared dose at the same time, sharing everything because, oh,  they "loved" each other, and shared the same two bodies and the sane two-in-one soul, it seemed for a while...


Anyway, at least he wasn't a poof - Auntie BBC was VERY careful to make sure that was made VERY clear, repeatedly, over and over again right at the outset, that Mark was NOT a shirt-lifter, a fudge-packer, a bender, a secret friend of Dorothy's, a  Man of Convenience, or a bandit.

Mark Fowler was ALL MAN.

He caught his Good AIDS from a WOMAN, without even having ever even had sex with her or anything 
(although, it's clearly the case that they also were quietly predictably sexually active anyway, clearly, largely one would assume, although we cannot say for certain, exclusively with each otherand probably quite a great deal, all the time. Without Johnnies.) 
it was tragic, horrid, appalling BAD LUCK (facilitated by a recurrent pattern of poor life choices (Taking Heroin, becoming a Junkies, STAYING a Junkie, sharing needles with a lover of unknown background, fidelity or status, who never bothered to get tested) that caused Mark Fowler to become infected with the Virus formerly Known as Human Tumor Lymphoma Virus-III (HTLV-III) in the same year it received it's official formaj (and current) redesigns ruin as "The Human Immunodeficiency Virus" (no-one thought to specify "Number-1") meaning that they weren't expecting anymore almost identical microphages, OR EVEN ANY MUTATION OF THE STRAIN in the Cellular RNA packets "The HIV" allegedly has/had/they SAY " it" has....

Just to drop TWO, absolutely WHACKING great big, glowing in the dark positiom markers there before moving on to the actual point: 


Number 1 : D'you see what they did with the names, there...?


This is basic, fundamental slight of hand and this is STILL fooling people,  MOST people, even a quarter of a century on.

MOSTLY people who SHOULD KNOW BETTER, and indeed in actual fact, DO know better - they just chose what glaringly obvious things presented right in front of them THEY DONT WANT TO SEE, because THEIR CAREER depends on them never seeing it, THEIR GRANT is made on the basis of presupposing that they will NEVER, EVER SEE IT, they insititutuion in which they have laboured and built a world class reputation with, who pays for all of theirs children's orthodontic correction, who pays their mortgage, that made them rich (in stock options and other worthless paper derivatives, like dollars), that august, solvent, rapidly growing private enterprise venture and the key, sole service user public  institution, the very, specific government agency tasked and commissioned to find the scientific reality of the underlying true has THE VERY LIE, AND THE ESSENCE OF THE LIE EMBEDDED RIGHT THERE IN THEIR VERY OWN NAME...

They won't spot it, what I am about to point your attention to and draw you a picture of what it looks like, so maybe you will just recognise it, kinda, as having overall some vaguely familiar shape - they  won't see it.

They can't see it.


That can't let themselves see it, so they refuse to see it, and so IT ISN'T REALLY THERE. Even though it really, clearly and obviously IS there. The curtains are moving, and there a big bulge there, in the area right around where it's standing NOT HIDING - plus, you can see its shoes sticking out, look..?


So alright - first off, what is the name they gave (in 1989) to this possibly non-existent phantom virus particle thing YOU THINK you (or they, if you're not Sciency) now suddenly have on the spot, in the hotseat, caught in the act, bang to rights doing its sinister dirty-work of Death, right by the short and curlies, finally, at long last...?

The/a.... No, THE definite article, the one and only, unique, never before recorded, described or dissected on a molecular genetic level in all of the history of The World....


THE Human Immunodeficiency Virus.

Just like Chesney Hawkes, the one and only, SINGULARITY of virology, molecular biology and "Random Darwinian Chancr Evolution, taking place to perform miracles right before our very own lying eyes"- which I mean to make clear, is absolutely nothing of the kind. Except or the lying part. Nor does it either resemble or behave like something that might actually be able to do that, NOR THE TINY CLIQUE OF ELITES AND HIGHT PRIESTS PERMITTED TO ACTUALLY HANDLE IT, TREAT IT IN FACT AS THOUGH IT MIGHT ACTULLY BE DOING ANY OF THE THINGS THEY CLAIM THAT IT EITHER IS DOING, MIGHT BE ACTUALLY DOING IN SOME WAY THAT THEY CLAIM IS ACTUALLY INVISIBLE (hence it appears to the laymen or the untrained eye to be doing absolutely nothing at all), OR THAT THEY LOGICALLY SHOULD BE CONCERNED (I.e. In actual tangible fear of their lives and the lives of all their families) THAT IT *MIGHT* DO OR BE CAPABLE OF DOING IF IT GETS OUT OR GETS ONTO THEIR HAND SOMEHOW while they were studying it and poking it to see what it does and how it works....


Lab accidents and spillage, accidental releases of viruses and other disease vectors or microbes happen ALL THE TIME... And you ALWAYS have to err on the side of caution and assumble it survived the physical act of the spillage, it got out by contaminating something else, or someone else 99.9 % of the time will either just kill it, act as a potential flat surface and/or growth medium which can be immediately either destroyed, sterilised, disinfected, bleached, pasteurised, put through fire, boiled or wiped completely clean - all of which would kill it. 99.9% of the time with 99.9% of infectious agents, most of which are completely undetectablt, harmless or easily overwhelmed by native immune responses, who probably already recognise it, or its kind.

But you HAVE TO ASSUME IT GOT OUT UNTIL YOU KNOW IT DIDN'T, with strict and rigourous protocols to follow up to and including Quarantine of anyone who may have been exposed to whatever the thing is;

I once had an ex- who worked (for money) as a lab assistant in a small private lab contracted to provide ongoing testing of certain food products distributed and sold by Tesco stores, not exactly completely direct from the farm and straight on the shelf in Cardiff or Birmingham by tea-time, but essentially, yeah - they would collect the end product for sale on the shelf to the British consumer direct from a regional hub facility there out in the countryside, who would divide up the thing to go on the shelf (I think it was something like pre-packed green leaf salads for people to pick up and eat right away as part of their lunch, maybe with some additional element added in there, like to make it a Salad Nicoisse, instead of just a pure/plain green leafy salad in a bag, but that's it in terms of processing or packaging of this stuff beyond just sealing and dating it inside a Tesco branded package made of plastic film and a few pieces of card with nutritional information, ingredients list ("salad" - just kidding) printed on it - you get the general idea.

So, the point about this was, the mighty Tesco retailing dragon-thing, essentially, was just talking delivery of this raw, fresh food product (that now has THEIR name, address and lawyer's details wrapped all around it),sending it straight out to dozens/hundreds of their stores, without having any time to check them out in any way other than cursory visual inspection, conduct any kind of checking in the area of quality control before putting it immediately, directly, straight away on-sale from their own shelves in the full expectation that, if bought, the customer will consume it more or less directly straight away that very same day, or at the very latest the day after that, realistically. Assuming that that generally quite enjoy eating salads, given that they have just gone into a supermarket at lunchtime to buy one, they can perhaps be assumed to have a good level of knowledge, common sense and previous salad-purchasing/eating experience sufficient enough to have a good sense in their own minds as to how long (or, not) they can realistically be expected to stay optically fresh, crunchy and edible.


No doubt there was certainly some kind of regular supply chain quality control more in the area of regular visits or inspections to the farms who supply the salad leaves, herbs and other incrgredients (croutons, maybe?) that the regional hub packing plant buys in from as the next link further along their supply chain, but if the sort of issue that could create real, genuine problems for everyone starting immediately, the moment it reaches tipping point and begins to make things go badly wrong, that kind of arms' length hands-off-type handholding supervision and oversight  is not going to be of any use in alerting regional head office that there is a mad elephant on the rampage on their patch, and it's currently on collusion course with them, everyone who works for them, everyone who buys fresh salad from them (or might), and they are mere seconds away from Letting everyone get trampled.

The Mad Elephant threating to trample everything, in this particular instance just happens, in actual fact, to be microscopic, quiet stealthy, aggressive and just as potentially deadly as Barbar the Mad King, but able to strike far more unexpectedly and without any prior warning anyone might potentially pick up on - at least by Elephant standards, certainly.

The Mad Elephant in the Room in question being Legionella, an extremely nasty, potentially lethal bacterium known for triggering serious, and deadly outbreaks of food poisoning in any general population or local community, many if not all of which have been cases historically when someone has eaten an off-the shelf unwashed green salad that somewhere along the supply chain came into direct contact with untreated human fæces - which is what will   happen when you bring in below-subsistence level minimum wage labour from one of the poor, and desperate European nations East of Warsaw on zero hours contracts, pay them only for the time in which the Forman ACTUALLY personally observes them hard at work on-line tending, digging or harvesting the fruit of the fields.

If you are going to knock of their paid hours total pay packet total hours worked for money tendered at the end of the the week things like time spent on toilet breaks, eating lunch, being driven to and from the actual workplace they signed on to be at to report for work by the boss colleague or co-worker who offered to car share with you or take you to work (as MANY farm labourer gang bosses/field overseers DO (which is illegal, as well as being immoral), then shitty behaviour begets other shitty behaviour, which begets shitty lettuce with human poo all over the leaves as a last, final, desperate scream raging against The Machine(s) and Machine Men with Machine Minds that made them and still operate them right up to the present - and one shitty Tesco salad lettuce, covered in poo, or two, or eight or ten of them (usually the same asshole will piss everyone working under him off at once, and the result may be a Dirty Salad Protest. Because for every previous cry out against the Machine system and its Overseer/OvaSeer/Officers, made direct from the heart and from out a world of hurt, abuse and exploitation has been met at the next management echelon up from them every time with precisely the same response : "Sorry luv - I don't speak Romanian."

That's in fact actually one main reason (of several BIG ones) why it's procedurally, far more than just simply merely ecconomically advantageous (at least on paper) for these people to have positively encouraged, more than merely just simply facilitated or accepted the practice of deliberately hiring a slave labour wages workforce even more downtrodden, broken, emmiserated, downtrodden and generally regarded with utter contempt  by Management, Capital and the Owners than what is left of the British Working and Non-Working Class Masses, and they had to go beyond the Carpathian highlands to find them.

Their parents and their grandparents learnt the hard way how it goes on the work gangs sent out to jack up productivity and yields through brutal and degrading years spent under the iron rod of Chauchescu's humourlessly authoritarian gang masters on Romanias old collective farm archipelago.

A different ex- of mine (honestly, I don't collect them or anything, just the good stories), a Romanian girl born in the Twilight of the Old System in 1988 would always speak of "the old days" with near pitch perfect politically correct ambivilance for the State Capitalist Zombie economic disaster of Chauchescu planned ecconomy - this is worth mentioning further here in respect of a couple of very specific historical footnotes  that have generally been either overlooked or ignored, or more often not correctly understood for what they actually are and what they mean to us in Free Albion, as we transition of the European Soviet Sphere of ecconomics and internal markets for cheap, cheaper, cheapest labour in the race to the bottom.

Even growing up, I can remember clearly, as the epic, tumultuous chain of world historical events of that strange, wonderful span of years I remember growing up in between 1988 and 1993, there was always a sense that was created in the minds of those watching from afar the collapse of the Warsaw Pact Governments and the end of their one-party rule Politburos and their supporting social infrastructure and institutions, the suggestion was always clearly made, very much via tonal shift in the way it was being covered, and for many years following that the Romanian application of modified Marxist-Lenninism to build a stable, fair and productive society of free peoples working in cooperation to try to achieve The Workers Paradise  Red Utopia was somehow... Well, the impression was created, again, largely via innuendo and on the basis usually of very little fact, that somehow, Romania was the REALLY bad one.... All pretence toward fairness and egaligerianism had been stripped away, Chauchescu was a brutal and merciless dictator who ruled with an iron fist, without consultation or power sharing via executive committee or inner party technocrats, he just squeezed his people without mercy or pity, enforcing total obedience to HIM via a reign of terror he enforced via his dreaded (personal) Secret Police monitoring any flicker of dissent and.... I could go on but having already enduring such a relentless volley of every Cold War clichè in the book several times over, all dialled right up to 11, it makes me exhausted just thinking about it.

I have to say, the intensity of various "Western" News Agency Eastern Bloc correspondents and region bureau chiefs (all jobs, and job titles that no longer exist in news reporting any more, let's just remember that for a moment, and mark their passing and the great price we all pay for their loss, now that Twitter is cited as being authoritative as a source of reporting on anything, on any topic at any hour, and given any slant); the level of serious competition, journalist dick-measuring and all forms and expressions of Four Yorkshiremen-style boasting and one-upmanship that drove those personal and professional rivalries during those short Years of Wonder and false hope sold short was just truly incredible to witness, even as a pre-teen child who previous to that had known less than nothing about nothing squared about politics or world events in any form prior to the day the Wall began to get dismantled by Berliners (ON THEIR OWN, which was the part that scared absolutely everyone in power absolutely shitless when they realised that thy were NOT witnessing a staged event of grand Street Theatre by the KGB or the Stasi, it was spontaneous and organic and unplanned and NO-ONE was in charge or secretly running it - and I certainly have not since seen one single, solitary scrap or piece of evidence, documentary or circumstantial to contradict the claims made both at the time and subsequently by practically every world leader, power player, kingmaker, banker, intelligence agency director, analyst, Maverick, critic, agent of influence, defector, military officer, diplomat, civil servant, peace officer, eyewitness or participant to the first wave of the Eastern thaw, starting from a mass picnicking action [?!?] on the Austro-Hungarian Frontier (when that was quite a thing to see), leading up to the sudden, total spontaneous combustion of the  East German Communist Party and entire government and nation-state supporting it for reasons which, even now, I don't understand and most East Germans alive at the time couldn't even begin to explain to you.

However - the Fall of the Romanian Communist Party was something very, and characteristically different, coming MUCH later on in the chain of events. 

That unmistakably and undeniably WAS a synthetic, planned stage managed and externally directed attack, destabilisation, a kangaroo court military show-trial and am extremely grubby, brutal and cowardly Presidential assassination th kind rarely seen at the time outside of Latin American Palace Coups, such as the overthrow of Allende - brutal personal violence, corpse desecration and gangsterism are its hallmarks, with executions in the manner of the street gang crime of the inner cities, in stark and directed contrast to the military form of execution usually favoured in that part of the world where the officer-class condemn and indict the dictator or generalissimo for Crimes Against the People, either real or fabricated - such was not the case, here. And they had a State Broadcaster Outside camera crew videotape everything - not that the process in fact ended up getting dragged out or lasting terribly long.... The pure hatred on display for the leader and his wife was palpable.

I really do have to wonder why -just as I have to wonder recalling Plato's dialogue on the relative merits and shortcomings of republics, tyranny and oligarchy, and which is by far the better for the common man to live under and pledge his lifesblood and fidelity to;




This Flanders 'Mare

The Blue Death

The Belgian Disease

This Flemish Pox

BE-NE-LUX Fever

Tyler's  Cramp

Mason's Elbow

Auditor's Pinch


Peoples of these British Isles, Your Attention Please : Having commenced my own study of the extent, breadth and fundamental nature of this Flemmish Malaisse, this Permanant, Rolling National Crisis of Confidence, and the promise of potential cures, my initial findings are now in and they are these : Things are indeed, as I had previously intuited, no nearly so bad or so severe as it may superficially have appeared to be, with our peoples, our nations and in our composite, unified sovereign Nation-State.

They are in fact worse. Far, FAR worse, than I ever dared contemplate myself to fear. 

You therefore leave me with no other options left - as of right now, I am going forward at RAMMING Speed, course locked in, Dead-ahead Full-Worf Factor 9.99 - You drove me to this...


"YOU ARE KLINGONS *WITHOUT* HONOUR..!!! I AM WORF, SON OF MOGH !! SIRE TO THE HOUSE OF MARTOK, FIRST SON OF THE HOUSE OF MOGH AND I SAY YOU ARE *NO* KLINGONS!!! YOU COWER, LIKE STINKING, WRETCHED P'TACH WHILE THE BLOOD OF OUR FALLEN WARRIORS LIES STILL WARM IN THE VERY COUNCIL CHAMBER LIKE SO MUCH TARG-FODDER WHILE THE HATED ENEMY OF OUR GREAT EMPIRE, THE ROMULAN P'TECHT'NICHT!! MAKE THEIR ESCAPE FROM OUR VERY THRONE WORLD !!!!

O PROUD AND MIGHTY KLINGON RACE - KHALESS CALLS TO YOU ALL, BLOOD TO BLOOD TO ANSWER THE CALL TO ARMS - TO AVENGE THE PROUD KLINGON BLOOD SPILT THIS DAY AND DIE WELL, FOR THE GLORY AND TO RESTORE THE NOBLE AND LAMENTED NAME OF HONOUR OF YOUR GREAT HOUSE AND OF THE EMPEROR KHALESS AND HIS NOBLE IMAGINE IN FLESH SO CRUELY AND SACRALIGIOUSLY CUT DOWN, SLAIN BY THIS RANK TREACHERY IN OUR MIDST !!

TONIGHT, WE  DINE IN STO-VO-KOR ON THE HEARTS OF EVERY FLAG OFFICER IN THE ROMULAN INVASION TASK FORCE AND THEIR FLEET !!!

BEWARE, O RESTFULLY DREAMING SPIRITS OF THE DEAD OF MEN OF LESSER RACES - THE FIRST KLINGON WARRIOR IS ABOUT TO ARRIVE !!! FIE !!

K'PLA !!!