The New Feudalism?

Hilaire Belloc wrote this, in Europe and the Faith (1920) about the fall of the Roman Empire. 

All that happened was that Roman civilization having grown very old, failed to maintain that vigorous and universal method of local government subordinated to the capital, which it had for four or five hundred years supported. The machinery of taxation gradually weakened; the whole of central bureaucratic action weakened; the greater men in each locality began to acquire a sort of independence, and sundry soldiers benefited by the slow (and enormous) change, occupied the local "palaces" as they were called, of Roman administration, secured such revenues as the remains of Roman taxation could give them, and, conversely, had thrust upon them so much of the duty of government as the decline of civilization could still maintain. That is what happened, and that is all that happened.

All that happened? Belloc was known for hyperbole and he was busy refuting a false view of history in the wake of World War I. Still, his insight into the murky transition of the Western Roman Empire into the Dark Ages and medievalism is well worth the read, to my mind at least. 

Check it out if you have the time. But what's always grabbed my attention is this, The machinery of taxation gradually weakened; the whole of central bureaucratic action weakened; the greater men in each locality began to acquire a sort of independence.

His point being that power began to coalesce into the hands of increasingly wealthy landowners at the expense of central government. Landowners who were effectively exempt from taxation and at the command, he argues, of military force. A small step from that to feudalism, and so to today.

According to Zerohedge and Forbes, Bill Gates in his wisdom has acquired over 200,000 acres of farmland in the US. Likewise, media mogul John Malone owns 2.2 million acres and CNN founder Ted Turner 2 million.

That's a lot of land, which by the way isn't being made anymore, and it doesn't take a vast amount of insight to draw the Roman parallel. Where will it end? Most obviously, to people being villains, serfs and tenant farmers on their billionaire socialist rulers' land. Also to devolution and Balkanization. History evidently rhymes.

Ad maiorem Dei gloriam,

LSP

Zadok The Priest

 

Yes. Because awesome, obviously. May the King live forever. In the meanwhile we stand to, ready to do our duty.

Zadok,

LSP

Hail To the Chief Or What

 

Just a few days to go until the Inauguration of the 46th President of the most powerful country of the world, and not just any President. No, 80 year old millionaire career politician Joe Biden is the most popular presidential candidate in the history of the United States. By a lot, by over 80 million votes.

How did Sleepy Joe, popularly known as "The Corpse," get all those votes, by campaigning? No, he didn't have to. He relied on charisma and mass, popular, grass roots appeal. That's why more people voted for him than for any other president in the history of ever. He's just that popular, hands down, no holds barred.

No wonder, then, that the Corpse's Inauguration party will be limited to members of Congress. They'll be fortunate enough to hear acclaimed Illuminati popstar genius Lady Gaga sing the national anthem as they exchange gifts en lieu of the traditional lunch. And they'll also be guarded by some 25,000 part time soldiers, because Joe Biden's just that popular.

Seriously, if you buy into this shameless, brazen, autocratic fraud you need your head examined. And don't even think of blaming Trump on Jamiroquai's Capitol takeover. If 45 had wanted a coup or a putsch he could have called it, right there and then on January 6. He had the people and he had the numbers, unlike the Corpse. But he didn't. So stop the stupid, ignorant, low-info, dumbass rhetoric about Beer Hall. 

No, Trump didn't attempt a bizarre latter day Fascist coup, but someone else has, and DC's occupied by what, two divisions of soldiers. And why? Because Joe Biden's just so very, very popular. What a fraudulent, faked up, exhibition of chicanery, malfeasance and skulduggery. To put it mildly.

Your Old Pal,

LSP

The Dorset Ooser

 

The news cycle moves fast, but some may remember the horned DC protester popularly known as "Jamiroquai." Is the horned anarchist the latest example of the ancient pagan cult of the Dorset Ooser, alive and kicking in the US? Alan Delgarde reports from the UK:

The horned headdress of a protestor at the heart of the riots and invasion of the  US Capitol building  in Washington on 6th January may have been inspired by an ancient  ritual mask known as the 'Dorset Ooser.'  

The horned protester has been named in news reports as Jake Angeli  who goes by the on-line moniker 'QAnon Shaman.' He stood out among demonstrators  at the centre of the invasion of the US Capitol on 6th January  and features on photos which have circulated around the world. His distinctive headgear resembles the image of the Dorset Ooser, still used in  in mid-winter and mid-summer re-enactments and  ceremonies today. 

 

A replica of the horned headgear is preserved at Dorset County Musuem in Dorset. It is a copy of the originals of the mid-winter mask once used at Melbury Osmund and also at Shillingstone where, by the 19th century, it had become known as 'the Christmas Bull'.

The donning of horns, weird masks and strange  animal costumes is a widespread tradition and, in various forms, is recognised as a European wide-folk custom practised in rural areas since ancient times. The custom was  condemned by the early Church and later associated with the figure of the devil. 

In Archbishop Theodore of Canterbury's (668-690 AD) Liber Poenitentialis (Penitential Book) wearing animal heads was condemned as 'devilish.' 

"(He) goes about as a stag or a bull; that is, making himself into a wild animal and dressing in the skin of a herd animal, and putting on the heads of beasts; those who in such wise transform themselves into the appearance of a wild animal, penance for three years because this is devilish."

It is striking how this headgear worn by the 21st century protester so closely resembles the seasonal folk costume worn for centuries in  disorderly folk customs in ancient Britain and Europe, and is now sported  at exactly the same point in the winter calendar in the Capitol of the United States.

 

Is the QAnon Shaman an example of a faked up Fed mimicking Old World archetypal folk customs emerging in the New World or just another Anarcho-Marxist crisis actor out for cheap thrills and kicks, or both?

As always, you the reader be the judge.

Your Friend,

LSP

****

Sources

Sources: 

https://dorsetcountymuseum.wordpress.com/2015/05/01/the-dorset-ooser/ 

https://www.historic-uk.com/CultureUK/Dorset-Ooser/ 

https://www.dorsetecho.co.uk/communitynews/latestnews/14465912.mayday-monstrous-dorset-ooser-makes-rare-appearance-first-sunrise-summer/ 

https://www.thesun.co.uk/news/13676847/qanon-shaman-jake-angeli-capitol/ 

El Novio de la Muerte

 

Slay the Red Dragon.

QUE VIVA ESPAÑA!

LSP

A Miracle!

 

I managed to buy a valupak of 12 ammo today and celebrated the miracle with hot dogs. Thanks, LL, for the inspiration. Speaking of which, here's a photo of a Tech Giant caught in the act of taking down Parler. Via Virtual Mirage:

Let's hope this sinister enemy of free speech was brought to swift and decisive justice.

Shoot straight, if you can find any bullets.

Cheers,

LSP

Listen to The Patriarch

Remember this, Russia escaped from beneath the talons of the Beast. We will too. Stand firm.

That is all,

LSP

Your Mind Has Left your Body

 

Just be sure and pick it up on your way out the door.

Cheers,

LSP

Pixelnacht

 

Yeah, thanks but no thanks, and so the Night of the Long Routers continues. For goodness sake, don't these geeks have anything better to do than x out small MAGA accounts? Apparently not. So I fell back on Gab and post there @LSP, not that it's easy to access because Gab's getting around 500k+ new users a day, and their servers are swamped. But here's the thing.

How long before Gab et al get taken down for, I don't know, domestic terrorism. For that matter, how much longer will Blogger tolerate anything that's not globalist, millionaire/billionaire socialist Google party line? I'm not betting the aging monkey.

Maybe we need to fall back on coded handwritten letters, perhaps in Greek - see Indian Mutiny - courier pigeons, steam powered free-press servers and speakeasies (what? Ed.). Or something like that, but make no mistake, our Corporate Overlords and their political shills are barreling down the pike to silence their competition. See Parler, nuked.

What's amusing, to me, is the spectacle of rank and file NYT style Dems supporting this in the name of STICK IT TO THE MAN! Like what, Tech, Banks, Hollywood, the Military Industrial Complex, Academia, Media, Pfizer, and Chase have become magical icons of anti-establishment freedom? 

Bizarre ain't in it. In the meanwhile, the snow melts at the Compound but was great while it lasted. More please.

Cheers,

LSP

They're Coming to Gitchoo

 

They are? And in league with transnational capital to boot, clearly McCarthy didn't go far enough. In similar vein, the Corpse is promising special stimulus to POC (Person of Color) owned small businesses. Fortunate for the POC, not so hot if you're not. But seriously, since when were taxpayer handouts awarded on account of skin color?

Since right about now, and don't you dare say racist or you'll get banned for being a Nazi. As in, how dare you stand for equality, regardless of ethnicity, you Fascist. In similar vein, have you noticed how the Left is full of hate, vitriol and spite at the moment?

You'd think they'd be happy and magnanimous, their guy won, apparently. But no, they're baying for blood. And this inner state of being will surely manifest itself outwardly, it already is, which doesn't bode well. 

That in mind, I'll spare you the sermon, but I will say this. They're coming to gitchoo. Good luck with that, Bolsheviks.

Cheers,

LSP

Winter Wonderland!

 

It started off as cold, sleety rain, and then our Old Adversary the Weather escalated the fight. Yes, it began to snow. "Well that's exciting," I thought as I fired up a Mission for Mass, "Snow, in Texas." But here's the thing, it didn't stop, on the contrary, it intensified.

By the time Mass was over and we opened the doors of the church and looked outside, there it was, a veritable winter wonderland. "Haven't seen anything like this in ten years," said one churchman. "This is more snow than we had in Oklahoma," said another, mysteriously. And I agreed, we haven't seen this much snow here since the great Global Warming blizzard of 2010. Exciting.

Back at the Compound I started getting calls from Mission #2. Like, "We've had to turn around, padre, sorry about that," or, "We fishtailed on 56 and headed back, didn't want to risk it." Also the power was down in the area, so we called a snow day on the service and I emailed the crew with a "make your Spiritual Communion" reminder. Then what?

Brush the snow off your rig and take a recce through town. No small thing, I tell you. It was like the Kharkov Front, or maybe Narnia. Still, I wasn't complaining, it's rare to see anthropogenic global warming like this in the great state of Texas.

I know, same-old, same-old for everyone living north of the border, but a big thing here. So too, apparently, with the Corpse and the Whore's incoming ascension to power; all the shotgun ammo was gone at Walmart yesterday, no fooling. Never seen such a thing before, make of it what you will.

In the meanwhile, snow continues to fall.

LSP

Gimme Shelter

 

This seems appropriate right about now. And here at the Compound we wonder if Big Tech trying to ban people who disagree with you is somehow "progressive." Like wow, "I'm a socialist, that's why I support Silicon Valley billionaires telling everyone what to think." Absurd ain't in it and you'd think they'd recall the Bolshevik revolution eating its own, but no, history's not taught anymore, and neither is truth.

Without that, an objective standard of reality you conform to or don't, the accordance of mind to thing, you're left with what? Opinion and its enforcement, with the exercise of power unchained from any external constraint. Or to put it another way, with an unchecked lust for power, and we've seen the results. The Nazi KZs, Russia's Gulags, Cambodia's Killing Fields, and on. In short, with the mass slaughter of the 20th Century. 

I pray that this utter evil isn't heading our way, though it seems close and perhaps we're already in it. How many babies are killed in the womb, every minute of every day? Ask yourself, what will a people or nation which condones such a thing not do? 

So here's the Stones:

Thanks, Dr. Swankenstein, for the tip.

Cheers,

LSP

A Gentle Reflection

 

Well here we are. Twitter's banned the President of the US, the GOP's baying for the blood of the anarchists(?) who got into the Capitol and stole Pelosi's laptop, and the FBI are working round the clock to bring the perps to justice. Election fraud on an industrial scale obviously wasn't worth the time, eh? But where to from here.

Good question, will our cold civil war become hot? It might, given current levels of anger and dehumanization, to say nothing of the fact that everyone's armed to the teeth. No epiphany there, though perhaps the utter lack of spine on the part of the GOP is an eyeopener, or not. 

Regardless, the future beckons and what does it hold? For me, working to build up two Texan country missions, simple as that. One of the Wardens, who used to head up Dallas SWAT, asked, "If they try a lockdown, what'll you do?" I thought for a second, "I'll ignore that order." He looked me right in the eye, "Me too."

Carry on,

LSP

Kid Rock!

 

Wow. Go Kid!

Cheers,

LSP

Politics of Despair or is it Just Jamiroquai?

 

Starting with this important international mind blog, many thousands have noticed the frightening similarity between UK pop legend Jamiroquai and the Horned Hippie who broke into the Capitol yesterday. With a crew of bearded freaks who were obviously, ahem, MAGA.

Is he a Qanon Shaman or an undercover intel asset with cameras in his horns, filming the wickedness of the coup? Or is he simply a West London Jazz fusion artist, looking for kicks and adventure in the dying days of an Imperial North American Republic? That's opaque, but here at the Compound we know you'd like to get the look. Here's how.

On a serious note, why did police wave and lead people into the Capitol? I don't know, but I do know that more than 70 million people aren't too pleased at our incoming governing kleptocracy, and that's just the Trumpists. Chris Hedges, a leftist, and you can imagine him voting Bernie only to be thwarted by Dominion, puts it well:

The seizure of control of the economy by a class of global speculators and corporations has ruined the lives of the very groups the Democrats pretend to lift up...

The power of politicians such as Nancy Pelosi, Chuck Schumer or Mitch McConnell comes from being able to funnel corporate money to anointed candidates. In a functioning political system, one not saturated with corporate cash, they would not hold power. They have transformed what the Roman philosopher Cicero called a commonwealth, a res publica, a “public thing” or the “property of a people,” into an instrument of pillage and repression on behalf of a global corporate oligarchy.

 

Again:

The tinder that could ignite violent conflagrations lies ominously stacked around us. It may be triggered by Trump’s defeat in the election. Millions of disenfranchised white Americans, who see no way out of their economic and social misery, struggling with an emotional void, are seething with rage against a corrupt ruling class and bankrupt liberal elite that betrayed them. They are tired of the political stagnation, grotesque, mounting social inequality and the punishing fallout from the pandemic. Millions more alienated young men and women, also locked out of the economy and with no realistic prospect for advancement or integration, gripped by the same emotional void, have harnessed their fury in the name of tearing down the governing structures and anti-fascism. These polarized extremes are inching closer and closer to violence. 

 

His prediction?

There are three options: reform, which, given the decay in the American body politic, is impossible, revolution, or tyranny.

 

I don't agree with everything Hedges writes, which I'm sure upsets him deeply, but I'd say he nails the "corporate oligarchy" of our reigning and apparently triumphant uniparty. Trump attempted to overthrow that and faced a coup, but where will it end?

We'll see, but it won't be status quo pro ante, not by a long shot. In the meanwhile, enjoy dressing up like Jamiroquai. Does anyone listen to zhir rubbish music?

Cheers,

LSP

*****

Not Gonna Take It

 

Patriots gathered in DC today, to show our rulers that they're servants of the people as opposed to the other way around.  So who's responsible for the direct action?

Antifa, Maga, the Feds? Who knows, perhaps the action was funded by the same people profitting off Dominion and Smartmatic or, for that matter, made in China masks. Don't say billions of dollars.

In the meanwhile, Jamiroquai made it into the Capitol. Yes, the twat in the hat. Does this mean that in the new world order we'll all have to listen to nasty West London Jazz fusion?

Hopefully not. In the meanwhile, patriots and anarchists(?) climbed up the steps of the Capitol to overthrow the Uniparty. Who knows, perhaps the last Porkulus was the 700 billion dollar straw that broke the camel's back.

Your Pal,

LSP

PS. My youngest sister made it up to the steps of the Capitol then smartly went back to her hotel :)

Bridge Over The River Kwai - Election Issue

Read this short cinematic parable as you will,

LSP

 

A Message From Ted

 

Before you can say "cat scratch fever," Ted Nugent rocks:

And so does Blue Oyster Cult, representing We The People:

'

That is all.

LSP

Hellfire And Brimstone

 

"How can a country which murders its children in the womb be expected to do anything right?" I couldn't answer contrary. So here's Cash, again:

The whirlwind is in the thorn trees. You see, there's a time for Hellfire and Brimstone sermons.

DFTR,

LSP

A Short Sunday Sermon

 

This is the leader of the worldwide Anglican Non-Communion (WANC), Archbishop of Canterbury Justsin Welby.  It would be uncharitable to say that Welby brokered womxn bishop figures into the Church of England and is no longer able to touch the Sacrament with his hands. So I won't say it, but he's clearly afraid of something, unlike these nurses, have a look:

They’re not allowed to tell us it’s all bullshit. They’re showing us instead.. pic.twitter.com/Wlx90PIMX1

— Peep’s Troll 🇺🇸 (@peoples_troll) January 3, 2021

As you can see, these medical professionals are clearly overwhelmed by the catastrophic pandemic which has swept through the Sceptered Isle. Or are they sending a message? Speaking of which, the CDC is telling us some 300,000 in the US people died of the China Virus in 2020, around 0.1% of the populace.

A tragedy, but worth shutting the country down for? Well yes, if it'll help you win an election and get rid of the hated Orange Man. After all, that Chinese cash doesn't come for free you know; the Mandarins expect a healthy return on their investment. And the point of this short evening homily?

Their ruler is the Father of Lies and a murderer from the beginning. But remember, he has been defeated and his days numbered. Take heart in that and pray for angelic protection in the day of battle and the powerful intercession of Our Lady, whose offspring crushes the serpent's head underheel.

Here endeth the Lesson,

LSP

Listen Up Heathen

 

Via Adrienne:

After a speech, pro-life activist Penny Lea was approached by an old man. Weeping, he told her the following story:

"I lived in Germany during the Nazi holocaust. I considered myself a Christian. I attended church since I was a small boy. We had heard the stories of what was happening to the Jews, but like most people today in this country, we tried to distance ourselves from the reality of what was really taking place. What could anyone do to stop it?

A railroad track ran behind our small church, and each Sunday morning we would hear the whistle from a distance and then the clacking of the wheels moving over the track. We became disturbed when one Sunday we noticed cries coming from the train as it passed by. We grimly realized that the train was carrying Jews. They were like cattle in those cars!

Week after week that train whistle would blow. We would dread to hear the sound of those old wheels because we knew that the Jews would begin to cry out to us as they passed our church. It was so terribly disturbing! We could do nothing to help these poor miserable people, yet their screams tormented us. We knew exactly at what time that whistle would blow, and we decided the only way to keep from being so disturbed by the cries was to start singing our hymns. By the time that train came rumbling past the church yard, we were singing at the top of our voices. If some of the screams reached our ears, we'd just sing a little louder until we could hear them no more. Years have passed and no one talks about it much anymore, but I still hear that train whistle in my sleep. I can still hear them crying out for help. God forgive all of us who called ourselves Christians, yet did nothing to intervene."

"Their screams tormented us... If some of their screams reached our ears we'd just sing a little louder." 

Read the whole thing here.

Your Pal,

LSP 

 

What's Up?

 

What's up? In England everyone's in some kind of weird lockdown, in Canada people are getting arrested in their homes for having six people over, but in Texas the lights are on. So that's all good, unless you're in England or Canada.

BW

New Year's day was fun, and we all went to Gloria's for south of the border food on a Guatemalan tip. That meant chicken flautas and an great plate of nachos, tasty. 

An old pal called in from England later and we talked away on Ma LSP's back deck. "Come to Texas, fella," I urged, and hopefully that'll be possible when and if the English are ever allowed to leave their country again.

Fence

But today was down to business, with a trip to Home Depot to get some wood to fix a parental fence. I thought, foolishly, that there'd be premade panels which you could buy as a kind of turn key solution. 

Lights

That didn't seem to be the case unless you went down a pricey, labyrinthine, delivery and installation order. So, I guesstimated and we bought some wood. Lo and behold, the guesstimate worked and several nails later the fence was fixed. Result, unlike, say, the Anglican Non-Communion.

Dog on a Moslem Rug

Speaking of, Mass in Dallas with the team tomorrow and then back to the country. And so, gentle and not so gentle readers, the adventure unfolds.

Cheers,

LSP

Fireworks

 

Here in Dallas, everyone's shooting their firearms into the sky. I offered to do the same, all hail the mighty Glock, but Ma LSP said no. Oh well. So here's some Handel. Fireworks, for New Year.

Best,

LSP

Happy New Year

 

Pounding rain, roaring wind, floods, construction, almost zero visibility. An omen for the coming year? Not necessarily, just another trip down I35 to Dallas and our ongoing War Against The Weather. 

Who knows, perhaps we'll rejoin the Paris Climate Accord, and raise so much tax that our old enemy, the Weather, will finally be defeated and our paymaster, China, will rise victorious from the struggle.

That aside, have fun tonight if you're in the mood and, of course, a blessed and happy New Year. 

Cheers,

LSP

Behold Genius

 

I call genius, or perhaps you  dare to disagree? Look, here's a photo:

Your Pal,

LSP

Erebus Diamond - Ladies Side

Georgiana Spencer-Poyntz Cavendish, 17th Duchess of Devonshire, looked out on the manicured lawn of Green Park from the windows of London’s Cavalry and Guards Club. 

It was mid-May in 2204 and it was raining, predictably, spring's drops tapping and patterning the windowpane. England’s foremost adventuress and landowner of not inconsiderable fortune turned to her host, “Kitchener, what earthly purpose is there in weather satellites when they can’t control the weather?”

Lord Kitchener fixed Devonshire with a friendly eye over a cup of afternoon Darjeeling, freshly brought in that very day from Her Imperial Majesty’s territories in Burma. “Earthly, Devo?” he had known her since they were children playing on the grounds of Chatsworth, “I’d say more celestial, don’t you think?” Devonshire sat down neatly and helped herself to tea, “Celestial, Field Marshall?”

“Yes, just that. To be more precise, the Celestial Kingdom.”

“You mean Mars, New China? I thought that settled business.”

Kitchener frowned, “Settled? In a sense, yes. New China isn’t about to eject our Legations, the Dowager Empress is gone and Prince Qing sits on the throne. He’s favourable to us, as well he should be.” 

The Field Marshall thought back to the high orbit bombardment his Anglo-US fleet had rained down on the Empress’ forces. A merciless hail of incandescent fury which, as if out of spite, had obliterated the Chinese Summer Palace and the priceless artefacts therein. Well, war was war, even if limited.

“You see, Devo, the raid was successful, but there’s the small matter of a diamond, the Erebus Diamond.”

Devonshire looked askance, “The Erebus Diamond? What do you mean, surely we have that?” Kitchener smiled, and instantly they found themselves in Null Space, free from prying eyes and ears, the comfort of of 127 Piccadilly replaced by the no-space of Null, a grey background surging with damping static.

“There,” said Kitchener, above the hissing sound, “The diamond. As you know, Sir Carter Headington was carrying the gem in transit when we launched our strike on the Palace and lifted the siege.” Devonshire glanced agreement, “And?”

“It's disappeared. Gone. Lost, if you’ll forgive the phrase, in the 'fog of war,  Nebel des Krieges.' We suspect the Tongs have it, which means Empress Cixi intends to have it, which must never happen. You understand.”

“I most certainly do,” remarked Devonshire, tragically widowed when her philandering husband met his end in an alcohol-fueled duel on the Crystal Palace space elevator. His opponent had been in the pay of the Chinese Dowager Empress and of course she had killed him, a matter of honour. Yes, Devonshire knew something of the danger of Cixi. But so be it, the elevator incident had left her vastly wealthy and free to do as she pleased.

Georgiana regarded Kitchener with her famously insouciant grin. He replied, “I think you know what to do, Devo, old girl. Go out and get that diamond. And by the way, should Cixi disappear, which of course she has already, that would be helpful.”

Devonshire nodded, and in an instant they were back in the reassuring warmth of the club. She descended the long stairwell in a rustle of skirts, admiring the paintings of illustrious charges. Such was Empire. Then to her Brougham and a brisk clip past the Palace, Apsley House, where the Wellington's held court when in Town, and on through Hyde Park, and the towering Albert Memorial.

Georgiana looked up at the soaring gothic magnificence of its spire, which seemed to pierce heaven itself, and reflected on the Prince Consort's cryogenically frozen head, sealed there, in its midst. Her neural implants picked up traces of Albert's refrigerated voice, vestigial waves of the mind emanating from his frosty sepulchre, What of worth has ever been achieved which did not inspire fear? 

"Quite," thought Devonshire, "if Teutonic." The Consort had been dead, for the most part, for well over two hundred years and still the people wore mourning. She did herself, perfectly, in black. 

Perhaps this was about to change, but regardless, the heroine of Olympus Mons thought on the brilliance of the Erebus Diamond and plotted a mental course for Phobos, Great Britain’s Imperial staging post for the Red Planet.

Yes, this story writes itself... I think.

Cheers,

LSP

Tom Sawyer

 

Do you like the awful Canadian(?) pop band, Rush? I don't, especially, but I do enjoy Tom Sawyer. Good work, boys.

Cheers,

LSP

The Erebus Diamond - Intro

 

We landed on a shelf of rock selected by autopilot, got out, planted the flag and cried, “For God, Harry, England and St. George.” Helliwell Axe.

"I would annex the planets if I could." Cecil Rhodes.

Being a series of narratives on space exploration and conquest.

As Lady Devonshire urged the grav bike to a throaty roar, she gave Brolly, her obsequious Welsh butler, a high-spirited swipe with her crop, "Hold on tight!" He was drunk, as usual, and hardly noticed. “Yes, Milady!” And so the sun rose over Phobos and Devonshire's Triumph Spectre lifted into the thin air of the recently terraformed Martian moon.

Fast wasn’t in it, and Brolly held on for dear life whilst the bike sped over rocky Phobian desert, arms tight around the driver's fur-clad waist. Beneath them, the sixteenth Erebus expedition toiled up the slopes of a towering mountain, a jagged remnant of the cataclysmic Jovian War. “Why walk when you can ride,” remarked Devonshire, glancing down at surly Venusian Sherpas. Brolly clenched his teeth against the biting cold. At this rate he’d soon be sober.

Sobriety aside, Phobos is the larger of the Martian moons but only some eleven miles in diameter, so it wasn’t long before the Triumph touched down on the parade square of the Residence. Neatly ranked sepoys stamped to attention and Major Hardman offered a brisk salute.

“Time for breakfast, Major?” enquired Devonshire, already striding to the plasteel dome of the Mess in her burnished Lobb's top boots. “Do keep up, Brolly,” snapped Devonshire as Hardman struggled with the door. In fairness, it wasn't every day that he was fortunate enough to welcome the heroine of Olympus Mons to his particular outpost of Empire. 

“Come on, Major, this air lock won’t open itself,” and then they were inside and seated at gleaming mahogany, battle honors hanging overhead like the triumphant standards they were. Nonplussed by regimental glory, Devonshire turned smartly to Hardman, “Major, about this diamond.”

“Diamond, Devo?”

“Yes, diamond. You know the matter exactly, don't play the fool.”

Hardman thought back to desperate scrimmages in the lava tubes of Mars, “We lost a lot of good men.”

“So, all the more reason to get it back.”

“But the Tongs, hardly pacified, eh?”

Yes, the terrorist Tongs of New China had been in a state of Huawei driven holy war since an Anglo-US expedition burned the Celestial Kingdom's vaunted Summer palace to the ground. "Bamboo burns quick," remarked Force Commander, Lord Kitchener VI at the time of the raid, and he wasn't wrong. Rice paper met Rods from God and all the incandescent fury of the British Lion and American Eagle combined. A bad day for the mandarins, indeed.

While Hardman reflected on the fight, he had seen the elephant, data streamed across Devonshire's eyes and she flashed the Major an enchanting smile. He knew that no was not an option. It was then that the bomb exploded. An Orderly, Corporal Tighe, was vapourized instantly, and the room sprayed with a deadly shrapnel of molten Mess silver.

Major Cornelius Hardman stood, the veteran of a thousand psychic and literal wars, brushing invisible lint from his immaculate dress blues. “No disrespect, Ma’am, but did I mention the Tongs were restless?” Lady Devonshire raised a perfect eyebrow of sheer artistry, “Quite. And I intend to have that diamond. Brolly! Coffee. Now.”

Thanks to nano second force deflectors, both Major and Devonshire were unscathed from the blast and proceeded to breakfast in the wreckage of the room, ignoring hustling servitor bots who busily repaired the splintered chaos and slaughter around them.

“I say, Devo, old girl, best meal of the day, what?”

“So they say, Major. I must and shall have that diamond. Would that be marmalade?”

Such is the indomitable spirit of Britannia’s far-flung Empire, an Imperium upon which the sun never sets.

With apologies to everyone who isn't mentioned in this short.

Ad Astra,

LSP