NationStates Jolt Archive


Atheist Army Marches Triumphant

Athiesism
27-04-2006, 18:32
This is an open FT RP... if you think the intro post is too long then just read the first 4 paragraphs (counting this one) and the news report at the end.

For information on the Merkar Republic (my country)'s land and space equipment, and for a link to its factbook, look in my signature. It's important that you read this excerpt from the factbook so that you know what's going on:


Civil government ended in 2042, when an ultra-intelligent computer called the Mainframe was built to run the country. It quickly became somewhat of a sacred object, as it seemed to be perfectly logical and never made a mistake. [. . .] This was a revolutionary development, but there was only one problem- the exotic material used in the construction of the CPU could not be reproduced after being used up, and if the Mainframe was destroyed it would be impossible to build a new one.

Around 2070, the Mainframe began to predict that one day in the distant future, theists across the universe would rise up and create a massive "armageddon war" that would destroy all life in existence. The only solution, it said, was to kill all theists. The Merkari government made plans in secret to do this, and prepared the extermination program for several years until the secret leaked by unknown means. This caused the theists of the Merkar Republic to rebel, resulting in the Civil War of 2075. The atheist government triumphed, outlawed all religion, and began to praise the Mainframe, deeming in infallible. The only problem was that the Mainframe had mysteriously shut itself down on the first day of the war, meaning that some human "scientists", who claimed to be able to interpret what the computer would do, were entrusted with leading the country. They had no official power, but were somewhat similar to religious leaders, and although the government is officially a digital pure democracy, these "religious leaders" have been given enough influence and trust from the populace to make them the real heads of state. Religion is illegal, and ever since the J'kran Conflict the government has pursued a very hostile foreign policy, often resulting in war, in relation to religious nations and groups. Although any Merkari will vehemently deny it, most outsiders claim that the nation follows a pseudo-religion of computer worship, and what was once an extremely open and logical society has become more conservative and emotion-based.



. THE IOAM PLANET IS the second in line from the sun in its star system, fifteen lightyears from Earth, but is hardly warmed by its rays. Instead, the first humans who arrived there had to make do with the harshest winters and coldest ground. But these settlers had survived, and ever since planetfall they have been able to live in peace.

. This kind of thing does not last forever, of course. A fleet (50 stealth cruisers, 1,000 fighters) from the Merkar Republic had just recently traveled through the area on a live-fire exercise. This was on top of a slew of threats by that government over the past several months. The deeply religious people of Ioam were at odds with the Merkaris, who claimed that they owned the system as a result of the peace treaty after the J'kran conquest. But Ioam was adamant, refusing to bow to this legal pressure. Of course, no one goes to war to enforce a law. There are always other reasons.

* * * * *

. Some confusion was present on the bridge as a communications man downloaded the orders.

"We need to get this to the Admiral," Yiygov, watch officer, said.

"Sir, feel free to take it with you. Bear in mind that it is for her eyes only."

. The comms officer really had no idea what could be so important. Just another cruise past a frozen planet, and an Encryption Level Four transmission had come from Fleet headquarters at the most unusual possible moment. He thought about this as his friend carrying the message headed out the door, appointing a random lieutenant to take up the watch until he returned.

. It was agonizingly difficult to resist opening up the strange package. As the executive officer, it was Yiygov's responsibility to know everything that was going on. A classified message certainly fit into that area of interest. But the encrypted disk he carried was clearly marked, "AUTHORIZED FOR: ADMIRAL HOVE ONLY". This was just another exercise on the border of Ioam space, the same kind of thing the Fleet had been doing for weeks. Sure, some hostile words had been exchanged with the system, but it would certainly not lead to anything serious. So what was in this highly classified document? Most likely, the transmission was some kind of equipment test. What else could it be? The latest Navy-approved recipes for the crew? Another pointless warning about how throwing vodka parties "impairs combat efficiency"? An invasion of Ioam? Yiygov laughed at the thought of the last one, the most ridiculous of them all.

. On the MRS Revoyyen, the areas used by the crew were compressed into a small part of the ship, as almost all of the warship was automated. This is why it did not take long for the clueless XO to find his way to the commanding officer's quarters. A quick hand-print ID, and the door slid open. Admiral Hove was leaning over her desk, filing through paperwork. Apparently, she wasn't in the mood to obey military formality, and snapped a question at Yiygov as he walked inside.

"What the hell is it?"

. "Sorry to disturb you, ma'am." The first mate's voice was respectful, confident, and yet slightly distraught. "Here is a Encryption Level 4 transmission. I am leaving it on your desk." He walked over to put down the data disk, but Hove swiveled her chair around quickly enough to stop him. "Captain Yiygov! Give it to me!"

"Of course, Commander."

. Although he knew that he really should return to the bridge, as it was not his business to look at classified material, Yiygov did not leave the room. His overpowering curiosity got the best of him. The disk was snatched from his hand, and the Admiral took a moment to examine it. There was a strange look on her face, and Yiygov could not exactly identify it. The room was fairly dark, being illuminated only by a desk lamp, and Hove was struggling to read the writing. The XO could have walked a few feet over to the light switch, but instead hassled inside his mind with his neural interface for a few seconds until he was able to turn on the room's illumination system. It was difficult to interface with the unit, as he had just bought his a few days ago and was just getting used to it. But Yiygov certainly did not want to move away from the secret disk, hoping that the Admiral would allow him a peek at its contents.

. The desktop decrypter powered up in less than a second, and the CD was inserted. Instantly, lines of text appeared on the page. Hove apparently didn't care that her first mate was peering over her shoulder as she studied the message.

//START/APR27/2244//

Attention: Admiral Hove
Classified 4

Admiral Hove,

The units under your command are to cancel current live-fire exercises. Orders are to execute warplan INITIATE. Details of INITIATE are included on this disk. Disclosure of the contents of this document to your crew is at your disgression. Summary of orders is to resolve ongoing treaty dispute in the Ioam system using all means at your disposal.

LONG LIVE THE MERKAR REPUBLIC

Chief of Spacewar MARSHALL BOGRANOV

//ENDS//

. Yiygov didn't know what to say. He had no idea what was bringing Merkar into a war with an iceball planet a fifth of its population.

"Admiral, it's... it's best that we confirm this."

. Hove had no such doubts, and it showed on her face. The XO could not understand how she seem to be not at all surprised. "That is all, Captain. Return to your post. I will be with you shortly."

. "Yes, ma'am." Yiygov regained his composure, saluted, and walked out the door.

* * * * *

. A line of silvery craft flew out of the docking bay, as if part of a giant school of fish. Every few seconds, the noise of the bay's railgun launcher was heard above the light conversation on the bridge, as fighter after fighter departed for its target. No doubt, most of those space pilots flying off in their first combat missions where to some degree surprised and confused, and all of the bridge crew seemed to be the same way. But Hove certainly was not.

. It was not shocking at all. Two years ago, she had been let in on Plan Initiate. To her, it was somewhat of a chance for revenge, vengeance against religion across the universe for what it had done and what it was doing. It was quite personal to her, as a woman. The Merkari government news constantly reminded her of the destruction of civil liberties, stagnation of feminism, and soo many other things that made theism what it was. Today was to change that. No longer would religion be the "default", and atheism a rogue and minority philosophy. That was yesterday, and the events of today would determine those of tomorrow. The Mainframe, the Merkari, and the atheist were about to become the new standard.

. "Contact, range four million (kilometers), 6 o'clock very low, capital ship." Time for the first shots. Hove stood up from her chair in the center of the bridge and slowly moved over to the display screen, laying out her orders as she walked. "Begin the torpedo allocation. Have one of the reserve AWACs teams head for the area and see what's there."

"Aye."

. A speck of silver broke off from the stream of fighters and headed on a different course. A few other specks followed, taking up positions in front of it and staying close. It was surreal to watch something as intense and savage as war so peacefully and so far away. The very wide viewscreen that wrapped around the bridge showed only an illusion of what was happening, magnifying friendly and enemy spaceships several times to make them visible. But it gave you the feeling of a spectator, watching a battle take place with your own eyes.

"Contact group, near the previous cap ship. Twenty-four... twenty-six cruisers."

"How is the target acquisition proceeding?"

"Hold on, ma'am..." The weapons officer did not reply for what was probably five seconds.

"Weapons! How is-"

"Targets acquired, Commander. Computer estimates fifty missiles are needed. We're waiting for the order to fire."

. It was too early now to let loose the antimatter torpedoes. Fifty missiles was not very many, yet it would be all that was required- a few hundred pounds of antimatter could destroy the largest star dreadnaught in the galaxy. Still, enemy fighters might still scramble to intercept them, and it would be best to perform a fighter sweep first. There was no doubt that the enemy Ioam fleet was not expecting combat- an official declaration of war was sent just a minute ago (at least if the plan was proceeding as scheduled), too short a period of time for the enemy to prepare. At least they had sortied their fleet, and had kept it on patrol within their own territory. It would be ideal if the war could be started later, once Ioam had demobilized, but the government insisted that the war be launched immediately before the international community became interested the Ioam dispute. As it turned out, this was the perfect time for war. The right season, time, and place had been chosen. The enemy is unprepared. And he will be crushed.

. A battle line of fighters formed up, and headed for the enemy fleet as planned. The rest of them headed off for the spaceport, to secure it before the rest of the enemy fleet could join the battle. Following them was a transport group, ready to swarm Ioam Star City with Space Marines.

. "Fighter contact, range three million, six o'clock medium. Our interceptors request permission to engage." There was no point in trying to postpone the enemy reaction for as long as possible by giving the order to only fire if fired upon. War had already officially been declared, and it was time to fight. "Cleared engage," the Admiral replied calmly. Off in the distance, the long-range "sniper" weapons of her Kevinashaya warcraft opened up. Already, a few of the Ioam fighters had exploded without even having the chance to fire back. A few of them turned and faced the Merkari invaders, but most broke and ran. The opponent's line was crumbling, and it was leaving their ships wide open to missile attack.

"Release the main batteries."

. The weapons officer acknowledged, and the instant he gave the computer permission to fire, fifty torpedoes sped toward the enemy fleet. This was a close range for them to operate at, the enemy being only four million miles away. But it took them three hours to arrive, as the battle swirled around them. Although Ioam cruisers could be seen putting up a hail of point-defense fire, it was useless- the torpedoes unleashed their payload twenty-five thousand kilometers away from the targets, out of range of the hostile defense weapons. The capital ship's long-range guns, however, did mange to shoot down a handful- it was then taken down by the missile's devastating strike. First, a tachyon bolt hit the shield to temporarily weaken it at the impact point; less than a nanosecond later, the antimatter beam tore through the target, the enemy warship's shield dispersing most of it but not enough to save itself.

"Sensors! Combat results!" Hove asked, nearly shouting.

"A moment, Comrade Commander... at least ten enemy cruisers remaining, damage unknown." Not as impressive as expected, but still a devastating blow.

. That fleet had been neutralized, and now it was time to take the spaceport. The Admiral looked off to the left, seeing the spaceport come into being on the viewscreen. Some other shapes could be seen flying around it, but they were a different color than the Merkari fighters that were engaged in combat.

"Ma'am, our fighters have run into a fleet of light warships. Several hundreds of them."

. No problem, thought Hove. The Kevinashaya fighter, at over four billion dollars apiece, had weapons that had better range and accuracy than those of a frigate's. A cloud of wreckage began to accumulate over the Ioam Star City spaceport, drifting slowly away as the theist fleet was torn to pieces. Following closely behind the Merkari fighters were a slew of transport craft, closing in for the kill.

* * * * *

. "Is everyone ready?" The space launch began to turn to the right, sending a pen rolling down the crew compartment. It caught everyone's attention for a moment, all of them thinking that the tank commander should pick it up off the floor instead of leaving it to fly around. But there were more important things to worry about.

. A moment after being asked, the gunner replied to Sergeant Lamban's question. "Main weapon is calibrated, sir. Not sure on the repeaters, but they'll do fine." Gunner Joysen hoped so, because it was his life on the line.

. Lamban peered through the optics, as if there was something new to see. But all that was visible was empty space, the same thing that he had been watching for at least an hour. Panning the sight upward, he saw the nose of the transport vessel that his Slammer was slung under. It had been a while since the tank commander had stretched, so the sergeant decided to stand as much as he could without banging his head on the turret's low ceiling. Getting up carefully, he smacked his face against the wall anyway as the transport pulled around hard.

. "Attention Mayhem units. Nearing release point. Check in." The company commander's voice revealed no emotion, as if this was still just an exercise going on. Lamban was sure, though, that everyone in the unit was just as surprised as he was when they were ordered to prepare for real combat. The other tank commanders reported their status. It appears that everyone was ready, but nervous. Lamban's earlier surge of anxiety returned. What was happening?

. Just do what you've been trained to do. You didn't sign up to fight, but it's not your choice anymore. Who cares why Merkar has problems with some out-of-the-way snowball of a planet. It's your country, and your career. It's-

"Tank 4! Tank 4! Come in!"

. The sergeant awakened from his thoughts. "This is tank 4, good to go." The voices on the radio kept chattering away.

"B Platoon, status."

"5, fully functional."

"6, ready."

"7, ready."

"8, ready..."

. He zoned it out, concentrating on getting his crew ready for combat. The sensors were not powered up, and neither was any of the auxiliary reactors. He had soo much to do, and no idea of how much time was left. When would we arrive? What would happen? Why?

. The warmups and tests normally went by quickly, but the extra tension made it seem to take longer. Seconds ticked away, and Lamban danced his fingers over rows and rows of switches. A good memory made it easier to recall what to do, as did constant practice in the simulator. There was little else to think about other than preparing for battle, a phrase which had received a new and different definition over the thousands of years that warriors had fought. Previously, it meant readying the horses and mounting armor; now, what was more important was preparing the machines of death. The humans inside of these machines merely helped carried out the task that living things could no longer do themselves- destroy the other mechanical monsters. This little bit of poetry that Lamban had thought up ran through his head briefly, then disappeared when he once again felt the tank be pulled around by its carrier.

"All Mayhem units. Listen up. The target is ahead, ETA 30 seconds. Do your best. Over."

. Everything was prepared, and Lamban sat up straight to take a glance once again into the optics. There, in front of him, was a spaceport spanning miles and miles. This was what Mayhem Company had been waiting for. The sergeant went into a near-trance, mumbling his service branch motto just the same as he had practiced before any challenge that made him nervous. Forgetting his previous misgivings, he took a breath and felt ready. Space Marines are willing to take any risk, endure any hardship, and defeat any foe of liberty. Space Marines are loyal, respectful, able to take initiative, and patriotic. I am a Space Marine. My skills and bravery are the best of Merkar.

. A wide docking bay, doused in a kind of yellowed-whitish light that made the shiny floor glare, came closer and closer in front of his tank. Suddenly, some kind of dark-looking fighter carrying a Merkari banner flew past. Space carried no noise, but a vibration could be felt that shook the tank. The fighter made a strafing run through the docking bay, flying in one end and out the other, violently placing red fireballs and melting chunks of metal down in a long line. It was only then that Lamban made out what was inside, seeing some strange-looking gun turrets and a few camouflaged humans. Most of the later either disintegrated or became a burnt corpse.

. Before he could notice it, the tank's transport had came into the bay and was firing off its lasers as it settled down. Now that they were in an atmosphere instead of space, all of the tank crews noticed the sound of battle increase dramatically the instant they passed through the spaceport's shield. Instinct seized control of Sergeant Lamban once he heard the hiss of the transport's suction giving way.

. Lamban took control of the external repeater cannons and watched the display screen come to life. Grabbing the sight control joystick, he steered the view across the area in front. A few humanlike figures covered in battlesuits popped their heads out from hiding. They were taking cover behind the windows of some civilian spacecraft in the docking area.

"Gunner, infantry, left front!"

"Where?"

"Fire at the star freighters!"

"Identified!"

"Fire!"

"ON THE WAAAY!"

. The fire drill took all of five seconds, but Corporal Joysen managed to shoot a 140mm railgun shell right on target. Sheer momentum caused the freighter to nearly break in two, and sent it's occupants flying into the air. Grabbing the joystick again, Lamban sprayed repeater fire onto them in case any survived. The first time I have ever killed a man, he thought, feeling none of the emotion he thought he would.

. The whine of other Slammer tank engines could be heard nearby. The tank commander turned his view to the right to see the company leader's tank, sporting the number 90 on the side of its hull, advance forward. "Mayhem lead, follow me. Fire at will."

"This is Lamban, contacted enemy infantry near the docking area.

. His superior scolded him. "Tank Four, don't use your name over the net! Remember comms discipline!"

"Roger," the sergeant replied.

. Entering in a few commands using his neural connection, he turned the tank's automated steering system. The engine had already started on its own, automatically when the gun was fired, and powered up in seconds. Lamban ordered his tank's computer to follow Mayhem lead. As before, the radio net was exploding with incoherent babble, which made conversations impossible to follow.

"Objective Blue is secure, sir."

"Watch your back, one!"

"Contact in the upper level. Bravo, cover me."

. By now, transport after transport was pouring into the docking bay, dropping off troopers and tanks. The Mayhem tank force was plowing forward at great speed, shooting off its weapons left and right, high and low, picking off enemy soldiers hiding or running away.

. "We don't have time for this," the company commander thought out loud. "You know the plan. We need to head left." Lamban's tank suddenly veered around toward the wall. What was going on? They had been briefed that they were to head out of the docking bay somehow and reach the objective, but where was the commander going? As the wall neared and the engine revved up, Lamban realized what was happening. He noticed one of the other tanks turn their turret to the rear to avoid damaging it, and he did the same.

. With a noisy smash, the company slammed through the wall. Their tanks kept going, breaking down barrier after barrier, plowing through hallways, homes, and rooms. It was the only way through the spaceport; roadblocks had been placed all along the vehicle exits from the docking bay. The Slammer was quite a fast and powerful tank, being able to go at over a hundred miles per hour, and so did not have too much trouble with this. After a few seconds of loud noises and banging around, they had cleared the living complexes, and broken through a final wall. In front of the company now was a kind of wide path with shops and homes to both sides, covered by a tall dome. It reminded Lamban of a very big shopping mall, and it probably was, although the civilians had fled. The tanks to his left and right had apparently taken some damage, as much of their turret bustles and exterior equipment had been torn off. Judging from the bright warning lights covering his display panel, he judged that the same thing had happened to him.

. "Gunner..." The tank commander took a breath. "Gunner, is the main gun still operational?"

. "A second, sir..." The turret rotated as Joysen tested it out. "Fully functional, sir, no warning lights." We're going to need it.

. "Attention all Mayhem elements. Advance down the avenue and keep following me. Report any damage. Over." The voices on the radio kept going, but this time Lamban could notice a few voices. After reporting his own damage, he listened in to his comrades. Apparently, a few of them had been immobilized going through the wall. The fight was over for them.

. The company spread out across the four-lane avenue, with Lamban's platoon happening to end up in the front. He was the most junior of this unit, being the third tank. The first tank was crewed by the platoon leader, and the second by his executive officer. The third was practically cannon fodder. They took up staggered column formation to spread out and get more room. The other platoons broke off one by one, as per the plan, along the different avenues. Lamban, being the expendable one, was up front, and was scanning the right side of the column while Joysen watched the left. The earlier instinct wore off, and both of them began to realize that they really were at war, and that their whole world had suddenly changed. But their focus on the mission prevented anyone from becoming too distracted.

. "There it is," someone on the radio said. The platoon's soldiers looked ahead for just a moment, seeing the objective in front of them. They had seen photographs of it a few times before, and it appeared that it was almost theirs now, only a thousand meters away. At the end of the long avenue was a rather short building, which would have been nondescript if it was not for the radio attenae jutting out from the roof. This was was the strange structure they had been assigned to capture for an unknown purpose. Time for that later, though- everyone went back to scanning their sectors for threats.

. The gunner was the first one to spot and enemy tank coming up a narrow alley. "Armor, left flank!" Quickly, Lamban swung his view toward the contact. But it was too late- the tank had sped past the alleyway. He knew that he could not leave it there to threaten the rest of the platoon, and so slammed the brakes and tried to turn the vehicle around quickly. It skid for a moment across the smooth pavement, and then halted. "Do you see it?!" the commander shouted.

"Negative! Wait..."

. A large white blob obscured his view. "I don't see anything!"

"Joysen, it's right in front of us!"

. A terrible impact shook the Slammer. The blob of white was temporarily obscured by a flash of red and yellow, but everyone was still alive. Thank God for Carbon Nanotube alloy.

. Lamban was furious. "He's right in front of us, godammit! Open fire!"

. Lamban looked at the viewscreen, though, and saw that the gun had been sawn in half by the enemy hit. The only option left was to let his comrades take care of this. As he was thinking this, the platoon commander came on the radio.

. "Tank Four, there's one of 'em right in front of you! Stay still!" But Lamban did not listen, and was rammed away by the Ioam. The platoon commander's tank fired a shot at the enemy, which flew right threw him and out the other side, into the weak rear armor of Tank Four. Those inside both vehicles perished almost instantly as the impact sent hot shards of metal flying around inside.

"Lamban... Lamban come in!"

. The company leader wanted to know what was going on. "This is Mayhem One, what's going on over there?"

"This is first platoon... we've lost one."

"Don't stop, Lieutenant. Keep moving. You're behind schedule."

. "Roger, sir. We're almost there." The First Platoon commander felt fatigued, but at the same time relieved that it was over. He deployed his platoon around the objective building, but knew that the rest of the company had the area secure and that combat was unlikely. This gave everyone time to think.

. Their first battle, and this. Lamban, the platoon rookie, had died fighting for who-knows-what, against an enemy that they seemed to have no reason to fight. The platoon leader felt it personally, and it was especially painful to have to steer around the wreckage of his friend. Noone knew the rookie very much, as he had just came out of tank school less than a month ago. Poor judgement shows. And one way to look at is was that battle was taking care of the company's weaklings, preparing it for more serious contests to come. This was the official Space Marine way of looking at it, although it gave consolation to noone.

* * * * *

. The Merkaris, having seized the shield generator at Ioam Space City, were able to shut down the planetary shield. Now, thousands of cyborg infantrymen and tanks are landing on the frozen planet Ioam, covered by a devastating orbital bombardment. The pivotal fight will take place within the capital city, Iowa, where the theistic force's conscripts are already taking up defensive positions.

. . .

. The only difference between "night" and "day" on the planet was academic; it was so far from the sun that the sun's rays made hardly a difference. It was forever consumed in a very dark, very cold void. The humans who colonized it tried, with some success, to adapt the climate to their desires, but in the end ended up having to change their own genes.
. Now, though, it was especially cold. The city's power supply had been cut off, and people would be freezing had they not had emergency heaters. It was the soldiers that had to bear the worst of it, but at least they had battlesuits to keep warm. Uel Ranyet's beard did not fit well into his suit, and itched greatly. His fellow conscripts were having the same problem also, probably, but kept quiet. All of them had long and furry beards, as was Ioam custom. It probably would have been best to shave earlier.
. Ranyet took another look out the window. Sounds of explosions and fighting could be heard in the distance, although just barely. The streets were completely dark, as power had been cut by the enemy bombardment. His squad had been one of the lucky ones, probably, as a whole section of the city was now in flames. He looked back over his charges, who were poking their heads out of the window in nervous anticipation of battle. Noticing this, he spoke up to them.
"Back up, men! Stay inside the room."
. His squad glanced at him, and then stepped back into the room's shadow, lest they be spotted by the enemy. Ranyet, though, stayed at the window, ready to spot the first invaders as they arrived. The infidels are assaulting a nation that had done them no harm. What our faith practices is not their problem, regardless of the atheist lies. The Ioam are a peaceful people, and see no reason not to coexist with the unbelievers, provided they be willing to convert. There will be no mercy for them now, though. It is time to kill them all.
. Ranyet had been trained since birth to fight for his faith, and that time was coming. The sounds of fighting were getting closer and closer. Uel peered farther down the street, and could see a few more Ioaminians defending the position in front of him. The sounds kept getting closer, and closer, and louder, and it was only a few seconds before he heard a gunshot that sounded very near. The sounds of automatic weapons fire could no be heard, and the other Ioaminians were firing off their weapons. Just then, a blast shook Ranyet's building badly and nearly knocked him over. One of the apartment complexes in front of him collapsed, obsucring the street in grey dust.
. Without needing an order, the rest of the squad ran to their defensive positions along the window. Uel suddenly felt fear, both for their lives and his own. There seemed to be no stopping the enemy. The whistling noise of the infidel hovertanks became deafeningly loud, so loud that the sounds of fighting could no longer be heard. It was his turn now, and Ranyet was terrified. Now was the time to fight, and he felt the greatest fear he had ever felt in his life.

. Out of the grey dust, a line of horrific cyborgs marched down the street. Shaking, Ranyet raised his weapon, took a breath, and squeezed the trigger. It had no effect on the hordes.

* * * * *

Galactic News and World Report, Terran English Edition
April 27, 2244

The network logo flashes onscreen, and their theme music begins. The camera then switches to a news droid with a soft masculine voice.

"Good morning, today is April 27, two thousand forty-four. The first story today deals with the sudden and unexpected conquest of the Ioam system by the army and navy of the Merkar Republic. For more information on this shocking development, we switch to our reporter who has been covering the recent developments there, Sally Herman."

The view transitions to a young Asian woman standing on what appears to be the roof of a building, who begins to speak. In the background is a dark city, lit up in some parts by large fires.

"Good morning, I'm Sally Herman currently inside the Ioam capital city. Over the past few hours, my team and I have been hearing sporadic fighting all day. It appears that the Merkar Republic has already overwhelmed the Ioam defences here, and it looks to me like the battle is over. Some of our sources have been able to get us video on other parts of the country, I'll try to bring them up. So far, all I can say is that the power has been out since the shooting started, and I've seen some explosions a distance away. It seems to me that we're my team is standing it's safe-"

A loud explosion shakes the ground, and the reporter ducks reflexively. After a few seconds, she slowly stands back up.

"We... we think where we're standing is safe... It seems that the Merkar Republic has already taken over all major urban centers in just a few hours. We have a speech by the Mainframe authorities in Merkar that was broadcasted a few minutes before the shooting started. It appears to be a declaration of war. That was at about 0900 Earth time, it's 1400 now. Clearly, though, it seems to me that the fighting is mostly over."

The news droid can be heard from off-screen.

"Sally, can you show the speech to our viewers?"

"No problem, we're ready to transmit."

The screen switches to an old man, who walks up to a podium and begins talking.

"Comrades! Atheists and citizens of the Merkar Republic! Today, we will begin the first step in Operation Initiate. For too long have the atheist kind been opressed, insulted, and disdained by the theists of the universe. Today, the first step has been taken on the road to progress and liberty. Religion has, for centuries, been a means for justification of prejudice and emotion. It has been used to hold us in and hold us back, technologically, intellectually, and sexually. It is time to forever change that. Already, our atheist brethren on worlds all across the universe are trampled upon by the theistic masses that attempt to force their distorted view of the world upon us. But no longer will we allow them to do times.

There have been many explanations put forth as to why they persist in believing in the inexplicable. Some say it is because they can not give up the ideal that eternal hapiness awaited them. Others see it as a way to give life a purpose. Still more propose it is an excuse to justify their prejudices and emotions. Religion is a tool, a human tool, adjusted according to their fashion. It has changed much over the years because of this, but its core elements remain. Today, though, there will be change.

This wave of revolution will spread first from the Ioam system, where already our spacecraft have been ordered to commence the assault. Those next in line have already been selected, but must remain classified for the moment. This serves as a declaration of war on all theistic peoples, and an offer of solidarity to all atheists. For once, we have a chance to make a difference. Let us use it wisely."

The camera switches back to the news droid, who continues to ramble on about other stories of the day.