Prologue - Its Hour Come Round At Last?

PARIS, EARTH, HEADQUARTERS OF THE ELECTED GOVERNMENT OF THE UNITED FEDERATION OF PLANETS

TWENTY-TWO MONTHS AFTER THE DESTRUCTION OF ADMIRALTY HALL

The President felt like crap.

"All we can do for you is say again what we have said before. Romulus does not answer. And our long range scans indicate that it is not there any more. Something or someone has obliterated all of the Romulan Star Empire, with the exception of its outer colonies. The inner-system planets are shattered asteroids. Romulus itself is just gone. We speculate at this time that the Romulan government was working on a superweapon, and it backfired badly."

The reporters almost all laughed. It wasn't necessarily derisive towards  President Yd'ne'k. It was at the absurdity of a galactic superpower disappearing overnight, and The Federation being totally clueless as to why.

"Mister President--what kind of superweapon does this? Romulans are too meticulous to actually assemble a multi-tasker on Romulus itself. Now, if there's nothing left of the main world, easy math says that they did exactly that."

Ydennek knew the whole gaggle of correspondents. The man questioning him now was very tough, but he never asked a truly unfair question.

"Carl---I said the superweapon was our best explanation. I never said it was a good one. Although Intelligence did have them working on some kind of oxygen destroyer, I hardly think this could be the result."

Then, the question that would become legend was spoken by a young female correspondent from Andor.

"Are These Those Days? Mister President, has Ghidorah returned, as spoken of by the legends of so many races?"

The silence was brief, but certainly noticeable. The President seemed a trifle shaken by the mere raising of the concern.

"Young lady, why would you ask such a thing? The Ancient Destroyer is a myth!"

As per her Andorian heritage, the woman did not back down.

"Fact, sir. Ambassador Sarek's removal was forced by a group of diplomats who didn't like what he had to say. And he was saying that Ghidorah had returned, again as The Ancient Destroyer. Now, Romulus does not answer."

Oddly, the other reporters jumped to The President's defense.

"Lady, you are as certifiable as Sarek. Everyone knows that the old man has a progressive mental disorder."

"Yeah. The Lady T'Pau ordered her own grandson be fired. They were hiding what he had up until then. But he made a fool of himself, crying on about the great big boogieman. Plus, am I the only one who's noticed he hasn't set foot on Earth since the Hall was bombed?"

Calling upon her deeply layered faith, she tried one last time.

"Do you mean Admiralty Hall, which housed the headquarters of the Terran Order Of The Ancient Destroyer? In which the adopted son of our greatest Captain was subjected to a so-called Bacchanalia? If Sarek blew it up, then, no offense, Mister President, I'd like him to have your job."

The President shook his head.

"Sarek is too old and dear a friend for me to wish such a thing upon him, Madam. And Amanda would never forgive me. Besides, upon his removal, his aides--Captain Kirk's married children-- transferred aboard Enterprise. And that brings me to the original reason I called you here. The Enterprise is now filled to the brim--with children. As part of a bold new social experiment, young family members of the senior staff are aboard The Flagship, and we will be anxious to see how that works itself out. Someday, children aboard starships will be a reality. Cities in space, as some have called starships, are hardly true cities, unless they also contain within them the hope of the next generation."

Happy with their photo-op and news quips, the reporters began to leave. But again, the Andorian Yendis spoke up.

"Sir--if Romulus isn't there anymore, then why isn't the Fleet stationed by the former Neutral Zone going in to investigate?"

The President stopped.

"Well I'd imagine that they are."

"No, sir. Orders were sent out this morning--recalling all ships in that area to Sector 001. Some are complying--others aren't. Its all right here."

And when the illegally obtained disk was read, The President's face was lined with fury.

"Harriet!"

Harriet Janeway, the President's Starfleet Liaison and confidante, had been answering follow-up questions about the children.

"Yes, Mister President?"

The fury vanished, and turned to abject terror.

"We're faced with a military coup."

The document spelled out the orders, sent out to all 'true humans'. It was chillingly brief and self-explanatory.

"We need wait no longer. The Emergence has begun. No longer do we need to tolerate the intolerable presence of the animals and their cohabiters. As foretold, the universal cleansing has begun at Romulus. He Has Come. Rise Up. Praise Ghidorah. Humanity Prevails."

Then, the sky blackened. Massive transports flew over The City Of Lights.

"By Command Of Lord H, all Starfleet Personnel are to assist para-fleet operatives in the initial cleansing, once their humanity is established at 95% or greater by testing. Miscegenaous humans are urged to turn your spouses and halfling children in, that you may be spared. We have no desire to kill any true humans."

Janeway prepared to protect The President, and called to her crew. Yendis shook her head.

"Who is this Lord H--and where is he?"

The President looked up, and saw masked troops descend in full armor.

"And where did The Federation go?"

Chapter One - The Dragons Of Eden

It was the late 23rd Century, and humankind dwelt in a paradise on Earth. All human wants and needs had been met, and all ills had been erased. Joining with its galactic brethren, humanity held in its hands the means to better the universe and itself through exploration of the final frontier.

This is what all children were taught in schools, and what most of their parents chose to reinforce.

It was the late 23rd Century, and humankind had been lulled into believing it dwelled in Paradise, when in fact it teetered on the brink of Hell. Race-Traitors bred willy-nilly with alien monsters, the defense of whom cost good humans their lives. But mankind's salvation was coming, in the form of Ghidorah, who would wipe away this great stain. And humanity held in its hands the power to make Earth a true paradise, by cleaning up the infestation on the homeworld.

That is what was taught, in basements and other holes in the ground. by the vicious leaders of The Order Of The Ancient Destroyer. Only 10% of humans in the Sol System belonged to The Order. But each of those one out of ten had been well trained to kill the other nine. Moreover, they had been motivated to. They were true monsters, but unlike their threeskulled deity, they didn't look the part.

For they were on the surface, merely people. They were the neighbors.

Like Brianna Kirk, she was a grandmother who prayed daily for the death of her grandchildren. But this woman had never met her grandchildren, for in her mind, she had no grandchildren, because she had no daughter. Marrying a Tellarite caused that woman to vanish from her mother's small heart.

She looked about her small town of 10,000, and smiled. Not a living thing moved or made a noise. She had wondered why The Order made her move to a town with so much miscegenation-- especially with Vulcans. But now, as the dead lay where they fell, she understood. Her torment had all lead to this moment of epiphany. With Lord Ghidorah's coming, she was permitted to put something very special in the water supply. By faucet, shower, and sprinkler, her enemies died, quickly and quietly.

And she dearly wished that the family she did not acknowledge was there.

He was 12 years old, and his father had married a Deltan. There was a monster they called his little sister who never grew any hair. The fact of his real mother's friendship with the woman, and her desire that, upon her death, The Deltan take her place, made no difference. In fact, it was just another betrayal. His mother had even---been--with her.

The poison he now fed his little sister was not precisely poison. All it really did was increase the empathic bond between mother and daughter to extreme levels. Then, he waited for his traitor father and his animal wife to start rutting, as they did loudly every morning. When they were heavy into it, he began to twirl the baby around. At first, the toddler giggled, thinking that it finally had the acceptance of its big brother. But then the crazed boy let go. Through a window overlooking a cliff it crashed, death only coming when it struck the cliff
face.

The mother's powerful hands jerked spasmodically, snapping her husband's neck. The accumulated grief literally caused her strong heart to burst.

In the living room, the boy played music that his parents hated very, very loudly.

"Cleanse The Earth Of All Pollution; Watch The Skies; For Revolution; Shadows Three Will Make Us Freeee..."

He was a Kennel-Master. His Dobermans were prized around the galaxy. He sold them at exorbitantly high prices to Ambassadors who visited Paris and San Francisco. He once even held exhibition at Babel. The dogs of course were scanned for chips, and other implants. This only proved that the purchasers knew nothing about really fine dogs.

Through receivers placed throughout the globe, he merely transmitted a whistle, a special one only his mouth could manage. He smiled when he recalled that The Klingon liaison had insisted on purchasing a whole litter of these beautiful animals. Not to be outdone, so had several other self-important diplomats. The dogs would now all feel like they were starving, and harsh training would make them have an aversion to human flesh and other native meats. That left one food source.

He had no choice but to do this, he felt. Ugly alien pets were causing people to forget the unimpaired beauty of his dogs. 'The Sehlat Shop' had been what drove him into The Order.

She was a geek, or so people told her. But her alien friends accepted her, and never used that word. She had been happy.

Then, The Order found her and made a deal with the awkward young woman. Kill those multi-hued, multi-limbed freaks you call friends. When you do, social acceptance will follow.

As she stood over the dead bodies of those she had loved, she now realized that by killing these non-humans, she had become human herself at last. But her nature was suspicious, so walked back into school, and continued firing, on both the ugly and the beautiful people. But since Order members had stayed home that day to praise Ghidorah, the confused girl's death only sealed their victory.

The mentor of all this hate, who simply referred to himself as All Human, sat back in his chair, in a secure bunker beneath a major European city, and gave the next commands.

"Paris. San Francisco. They fall by lightning. Now, as then. Praise Victory!"

"Yes, Lord H! With all speed. Praise Victory."

When the lackey had departed, All Human looked at a flattened brain shaving, stolen from a Russian museum. He chuckled.

"Humanity Prevails. But then, who precisely is human?"

In Paris, the flabbergasted President saw someone sitting in his chair, in his office.

"Mister Nechayev?"

"President Nechayev to you, Alien! Praise Victory!"

The former Legislative Liaison then shoved President Yddenek out the window of his own office. The fall was long, both for the Chief Executive and the state he represented.

"Henceforth, The UFP is a humans' first haven! Anyone who doesn't like it can get out!"

And when this message was broadcast, more than 87 worlds withdrew immediately from the usurped governing entity.

Exceeding the two thirds needed for dissolution, The United Federation Of Planets ceased to exist.
Chapter Two - On The Orders Of Herod

In Petrograd, Aliana Fyodorovna Chekov answered the door. She had hopes that it was the mail, bringing a precious package from her son, Pavel. After years of nagging, she had finally persuaded her boy to yield up his original Starfleet tunic, which was to go on display in Moskva's Hall Of Heroes.

It wasn't the mail deliverer. And she did not consider Pavel Chekov a hero. Nor did the people who visited Pavel's aunts, uncles, and many cousins--some of whom didn't even know they had kin in Starfleet. Some Chekovs killed that day were not even kin of The Reliant's First Officer.
 

In Minnesota, a Grand Hotel had been rented, and there the Graysons had their family reunion, minus two or three notable members. Many of them had been discomfited by Amanda's marriage, back when. But now Sarek was just another Uncle, who seemed a great deal less grim since the virtual adoption of an eerie young couple. This made them all family.

In the eyes of The Order, though, it made them race-traitors of the severest sort. The Graysons had been early advocates of what they called miscegenation, or breeding humans with animals.

The Cobalt Bomb was messy, dirty, and a supreme example of overkill. But it got the job done. The Twin Cities had once possessed the highest concentration of Graysons the Order could find. The rest they would find as they could. And they could.

A hideous force field was raised at Hadrian's Wall. More coherent than most, and radically overpowered, it moved forward from its origin point relentlessly. Hadrian's Wall was originally built to keep The Picts and other Upper Caledonians from harassing the invincible Roman Legions. Now, a more modern group of fascists ensured that Scotland, a traditional resister of centralized rule of any kind, caused no trouble for the Order.

Like a wave of crimson death, the wet dream of Edward Longshanks moved forward, erasing much of what it touched, pushing into the chill seas that which it could not. At Scotland's uppermost reaches waited Hannah Scott Preston. She did not weep, as her homeland was wiped away, anymore than she had when the nails had been driven through her, binding her to an old fence. She did not pray for her children, who were in the care of a brother in whom she had enough faith to know he could be trusted. Knowing the propaganda cameras were upon her, she spat in the face of tyranny as well as any Bruce, Wallace, Sinclair, Stewart or Macleod had ever done. She was a Scott.

"Tyrants are wee small things. Ye Are But Bugs, And When It Is Yer Lizard Grows Hungry, He Shall Eat Ye As Dragons Do. I am of a people that fear not Dragons nor Dragoons. I'd wish ye Hell, but sure ye have already purchased that realm, if even the miserable Fallen will take ye in. Heh! Ye who go on and on about native Terran things worship an alien devil!!!"

Her one last word came as she saw the energy approach her.

"FREEEEDOMMMM!!!!"

-----------------------------

Benin Imperial University had been a place of life and learning, as had the universities in the ancient African empire of Benin. But now Professor Tauoru Uhura strode through piles of dead bodies. Outside in the freeroam areas, he saw many beautiful animals being slaughtered. Both sentients and animals had been his friends. He ignored them all.

In his brain rang good news, his only guard against what he knew he would find at the end of his quest. Peter, his grandson by adoption and perhaps in spirit as well, had remarried and was expecting a child by his Vulcan Bride. Life continued, even amidst all the madness. Now if only Nyota would tie down Jim Kirk, he could proclaim miracles.

He took note of what looked like inverted solar symbols from Indus Valley studies, sprayed across the walls. To his mind, they could not possibly be what they looked like. The flaw of a reasonable man.

At the center of the school, he found his wife. She had been hung, which again raised a non sequitur historical reference within him. Despite immense grief, he remembered that Nyota and her children were still alive, and that poor Sophia's abusive mother was dead in London, freeing that child from madness.

He raised his comm card.

"I found her, you maniacs. Any other surprises?"

The Order thugs chuckled.

"Just check your briefcase, Professor."

Tauoru chuckled, despite his grief. He would be with his lady, soon enough.

"I can't do that. You see--I left my briefcase with you."

"What!? NO!! DON'T OPEN------"

The explosion on the other end cheered him not at all, but nor did it sadden the very learned man. He was beyond that.

"Matara, my beloved. I had no more choice about falling in love with you than Jimmy did when he first met our Nyota. Now, The Order will find me and strike back. I must be ready. Forgive me that I cannot cut you down."

Indeed, Order members from all over the USAFR poured onto the campus in a hyper-vengeful move. Overkill, as always, when someone had dared to defy them.

"You die now, you old man, for many crimes beyond imagining. But chief among them is associating with Enemy Of The Human People #1, Peter Kirk."

Tauoru just gently nodded.

"Peter is a dear boy. My grandson, by adoption and at levels such as you cannot guess at. As my last act---I choose to emulate and imitate him. Chiefly--here is my take on Peter's performance--at Admiralty Hall."

Behind their face-masks, the thugs' eyes went white.

"All personnel---withdraw!!!!!!"

Tauoru had a second briefcase, which issued its contents then. The 5000 troops had not been the Professor's students, but they learned a lesson nonetheless.

In Japan, the homes of The Sulus were silent. The elderly parents of Hikaru had found a cliffside they had always admired, and leaped off, hand in hand, staring into each other's eyes like young lovers. The Order found their home already burned to the ground, and walked away frustrated. In an economy of movement, The Sulus had bitten back at the monsters hard.

In Georgia, an argument was heard. A very usual argument.

"I can't believe you sent John to be with his grandfather, without consulting me. Who knows what he'll tell him? Joanie, we had an agreement!"

Joanna McCoy felt the world was coming to an end, and so decided to say words she had waited decades to say to her namesake mother.

"Mother, WE never had an agreement. You had an agreement you made with yourself. I wanted to maybe say hello to my father, once in a blue moon. But you made it a condition of living around you that I treat him as the enemy. He wasn't. He was a man, who neglected you, and drove you away, though maybe jumping in bed with all his best friends was an odd kind of revenge."

"You watch your...."

Joanie slapped her.

"You watch yours, Mom. You're a good mother. But for some reason, you couldn't comprehend why Dad was angry when he found out. You were so ashamed of how you acted, you couldn't handle it, and so made him vanish. Yeah, he could have tried harder to see us. But you just kept on so much, I think he wondered what the point was. Now, before those animals come for us, please tell me whose actions finally ended your marriage. Just this once, tell the hard truth."

"It was your father's, of course."

Joanie sighed, and looked up as projectiles arced towards her small home.

"I love you, Mom."

In Idaho, William S. Kirk, known as Bill to his nephew Jim, his grandnephew Peter, and his grandniece Saavik, crawled from his destroyed home, and looked around where the ranch used to be.

"No. No, this won't do at all."

George Kirk's very odd, very quirky younger brother began then to make some plans. His lady cousin had asked that he never do this, but it was an emergency.

In Bourdeaux, a transport set down amid a vineyard. Harriet Janeway withdrew the dethroned President of The Federation, his arm badly mangled by the fall he barely survived.

"Easy does it, sir. We're supposed to meet Aaron here. He'll have organized some sort of resistance by now."

"Harriet?"

Harriet turned, and there saw her ex-husband, Aaron Sisko. As exes went, they were friendlier than some marrieds.

"You--are a bald sight for sore eyes. Listen, you have to get me some medical help for the President. Then--we take Paris back."

The transport's pilot shook his head.

"Back, Commander? I'm right here."

"Not you, Nolan--the city."

Having been going non-stop for 36 hours, Nolan Paris sheepishly realized his error. Now Aaron Sisko spoke.

"Harriet--we can't remain here. We have to go--now."

"Why? Is this Order territory?"

The vineyard's owner emerged, wielding an antique rifle he looked like he knew how to use.

"Non, Madame. This is my territory, and you and your wars are not welcomed here."

Janeway and Sisko could both tell without much effort that Maurice Picard meant every single word of what he said.

Chapter Three - The Common Thug

While Aaron Sisko held him firm, and Harriet Janeway raised his mangled arm, The President saw Maurice Picard hold up a mighty axe. He pleaded.

"Please--is there no other way?"

The vintner shook his head.

"Apologies, Monsieur President. But the arm will take your life, if we do not take it first."

The cut was clean, and the arm came off. Using a phaser-heated brick, Janeway then cauterized her old friend's wound. Sisko took his pulse.

"He's not good. But I think he'll get better. And here I thought all politicians were soft."

Picard downed a little wine, and poured the remainder on the President's arm-stump.

"He held up well enough. The only wise decision The Federation ever made was locating its capitol in this healthful climate."

Janeway looked up from her charge.

"Not much for authority, are you, Monsieur Picard?"

"Oui, Madame Commander. I have about as much use for government as I will have for this wine, once it has left my bladder. And it stinks far worse than that."

Aaron Sisko attuned his WristComm Link to the broadcasted news, hoping for word of where to regroup.

"This is GNN, so far the only station not taken over by the new government. Bizarre orders are coming out of Paris, insisting that all humans be classified according to ethnic origin. Also, in the strangest development yet, five starships have been dispatched to arrest a young Starfleet Lieutenant named Peter Kirk, who was declared Public Enemy Number One in the same edict. With Eighty-Four worlds having withdrawn after the Pro-Human Acts, and ten more threatening to do so, it seems that the United Federation Of Planets will soon dissolve in fire. No physical confirmation of King Ghidorah's existence has yet been obtained."

Aaron shook his head.

"That's Captain Kirk's nephew, isn't it? The kidnap victim? Why would they want him?"

Harriet filled him in.

"Our best intelligence has Lieutenant Kirk as the one who bombed Admiralty Hall, two years back. Also, Aaron--it seems he personally killed your uncle Brock."

Sisko smiled.

"Then I'll pin a medal on him, myself. Brock Cartwright was a monster. Ordered my mother and grandmother killed, because they were Alpha Centauran human, instead of Terran."

Picard, who had been barely convinced to let them all stay, threw in.

"Seems these bigots can't make up their minds. Only humans. Only Earth Humans. Only Earth Humans of Non-Mediterranean Greater Region descent. I imagine they'll refine that again, as well."

Janeway puzzled.

"Where did you hear that last part?"

"Yesterday's news. I do keep a radio, for the football scores."

She closed her eyes.

"Why would The Order care about people who live in and around The Mediterranean Sea? What possible significance could that have?"

Picard cut some bread, and offered it around.

"You don't know this part of Europe, do you? Well, let me it plain for all you bold space pioneers. The synagogue down the way was burned down first, before all the churches. Now just who do you suppose is running all this, eh?"

Sisko looked down.

"All Human. All---Human. It can't be as simple as that, can it? But then, The Bible says, as The Beast returns, so will the Kings Of Evil--including the---I can't even say the word."

Picard tried to change the subject.

"Understand, as soon as my friend is here, with his transport, you will leave. My hospitality was a courtesy to your dying President, and nothing more."

Janeway would have told him where to stuff his attitude, but he had helped save the President.

"Again, we thank you. But this friend of yours. You know him from where?"

"The Internet, Madame. The Transatlantic Cable, laid centuries ago, is still quite reliable. And with only one million users, quite fast. He is an anti-Federalist, like myself. Says that his great-nephew and great-niece have both been harassed by Starfleet. Lives in Idaho, where he raises horses."

Then, came a knock at the door.

"Hi. I'm Bill Kirk. And why don't you come with me---on a magic carpet ride? I have weapons in Idaho---lots of them. A large group of Starfleet loyalists are holed up in San Francisco. Free them, and you've got your resistance. Picard--you coming?"

"Non, Mon Frere. I do not go into wars that do not involve me, or mine."

Bill Kirk pulled back a beefy fist, and knocked Maurice Picard cold.

"Three-Headed Dragons are everybody's problem, Old Man."

"Mister Kirk--I'm Aaron Sisko. Are you related to----"

Bill looked at him.

"Duh. Now scoop up our friend and let's get going. I hate counter-revolutions."

Janeway looked at Kirk's transport.

"What a hunk of junk! Where did you get that thing?"

Kirk shrugged.

"Half-price on The Internet."

The unconscious President and Picard were loaded in, then all took off, with Janeway's staff following. While they rode The Gulf Stream, Sisko looked over a report.

"Membership and recruiting practices of The Order: A Tale Of The Common Thug."

STARFLEET INVESTIGATION INTO ACTIVITIES OF THE ORDER OF THE ANCIENT DESTROYER - CIVILIAN

FINAL REPORT

"My name is Paul Stiles. I was once a member of The Order. I was a little bigot, and I grumbled as little bigots do. Then I met the large bigots. Not only was I not impressed, I was scared. Too scared to quit, though, until the day they tried to recruit Peter Kirk. I mean, the kid was all of 12, but he stared Cartwright down, and told those jerks what they could do with themselves. I mean, I grumbled about Vulcans, sure. But Kirk--I mean Captain Kirk--set me straight, when he kicked me off the ship. If he hadn't, then the Order would have. Because all the things I might have talked about doing while blasted drunk, they were and are actually planning to do--and they were mostly sober."

"I left how they infiltrated Starfleet to someone else. Intelligence, to coin a phrase, is not my strong suit. So, working under Commodores Mendez and Stone, I was kicked out and worked my way up through the civilian part of The Order. I was frankly amazed. The people were so very normal."

"Now, by normal, I don't refer to appearance, or even to 'Humanity Prevails'. They were--just people. No shaved heads, or wholly tattooed bodies. Except for the cattle-like mentality, they're all just--human. Mothers hold up their children, and brag. Although the odd comment about not letting them marry just anyone does creep through. They hardly ever discuss what's to come, in their plans. It took me a year to figure out. Then I became even more frightened."

"In these Order retreats and gatherings, they feel safe. They know--or they think they know that everyone around them thinks the exact same way. Their kids are taught 'The Ghidorah Song'. if their spouses cheat, its with humans. They don't rant and rave here, because no one has to be persuaded to their point of view. When they do talk hate, its all very matter of fact, almost nonchalant. To them, Ghidorah's coming is like the rising of the sun. They just know it will happen. These folk are scary not because they are out there. They are scary because they live right down the street. To twist the old mantra, you cannot see the evil there—because it is all evil."

"They know that they will rise up, at the first sign of Ghidorah's return. Who are they? They're the most common sort of human---they look for that thing that made everything else wrong. When I was a kid, a transport hit my puppy. In dreams, I pursued the driver for years, because if I could get to that driver, then I'd have my life back. These are a simple sort of people who maybe caught some of the downwind from our civilization. It does have one, whether we see it or not. In their fear and confusion, they look for the ones who hijacked their rightful hate. Is it any surprise that they first turn on those that are different? It shouldn't be. Because its always been that way. The Non-Terran Non-Human is just the latest thing that must be gotten rid of, to restore what's right. But there's an even darker undercurrent to all this. On occasion, I would be asked about 'Mediterranean Blood', specifically whether I had family from The Middle East. I never understood that, if all humans are humans to them. But then, why would they be? That's why I never succeeded as a bigot. Its too much work, figuring out who you should hate today."

"My overall report includes numerous snatches of numerous conversations, some much more important than this one. But what follows is the most telling. You want to know the voice of the enemy? Read this."

----------------------------------------

"Sir, when the Cleansing begins, there's someone I'd like spared. He's an Atyrian shopkeeper. He's not like the others. He tells the alien punks--'Get a job and learn to speak Terran'--he's also a pretty fair employer. Can't we just send him back where he came from? The punks and snots and officials, hell, I'll brain-bullet them myself. But this guy, he doesn't bother anyone."

"Well, let me to tell you how to handle your friend, Recruit. After you have killed all the other aliens in your district, I want you to strap a bomb to his midsection, then blow him up but good. Can you handle that?"

"I'll do what I'm told, sir. But why go so far over the top for someone who took pains to try and fit in?"

"You just said it yourself, Recruit. He fits in. He shouldn't. The criminals and pro-alien activists—the race-traitors and miscegenators? They're all red-flagged. We know them. We'll find them. But your shopkeeper? He is the enemy's invisible face. It is he and all those who fight to gain our unspoken acceptance that must die twice. If the enemy is living quietly among us---then we have still been infiltrated--and Lord Ghidorah will judge Earth very harshly, if it is not purely human when he comes."

"Thank you, sir. But I won't need a bomb. Can I at least give him a quick death?"

"Of course, Recruit. Though we strive to be the very best barbarians we can be, we must never eschew the virtues of civilization. Quick or slow--just so long as he's dead."

---------------------------------------------------

"They are firm in their hate. They are armed. They have taught their children to ignore what others think. They never speak of their beliefs. They know that Ghidorah is real, whether he is or not. They are waiting, and they are dangerous, and they look not a bit different from you or I. They are just plain folks, and they are very, very frightening for that. Be ready, because they surely are. Their small numbers are their aid and comfort."

"We have seen the enemy, and he is us."

----------------------------------------------------

Aaron Sisko turned off the report-program. He felt disgusted.

"They've been with us, all along. But never with us at all. Why? Why were we so very, very blind?"

As he fell asleep, and Bill Kirk's transport passed Greenland, Harriet Janeway began to read the report's grimmer cousin on Order infiltration of Starfleet.
 
------------------------------------------------

In the headquarters of the Order-Master known as All Human, Acting President Nechayev's dead body slumped to the ground.

"Filthy Slav. When I say this, then this is what is done. Without question, without let, and without hesitation. Aide! Have all the member worlds withdrawn?"

"Yes, All Human. They have seceded illegally, and may be moved against at your whim. Praise Victory, and Praise You. Humanity Prevails! What is your will?"

The undead evil stabbed a finger at a map of The Mediterranean Sea States.

"Rome---Istanbul---Athens---Cairo---and most especially, Jerusalem. Erase them. Photon Bombs. The solution will not be partial, this time."

"Praise All Human!"

"Indeed. And Praise John Gill, whose clarity of vision presaged my---comeback."

 Chapter Four - The Uncommon Thug

JERUSALEM, 2286

Aliana looked with disgust at the men who held her prisoner.

"My family has been charged, since the time of the Crusades, with protecting The Thrice Holy City. No conqueror, Jew, Christian, or of my own faith has broken that tradition. Not once! Now, in this time of peace, you people--who bowed with me before Great God tell me that you worship a fiend from Hell?"

A phaser was held, straight at her head.

"Think of Lord Ghidorah as an archangel, like Jibril. Now, All Human has said that this place must fall, as has Rome, Athens, Cairo, and Istanbul. So you will give us the codes to lower the ancient defensive magnetic grid. We do not joke here, Aliana. We speak in deadly earnest."

"No. The Word was first given here, to the first chosen by God. A good man suffered and died here, and the Christians made him the son of God. The Mosque--The Mosque Of The Rock--The Prophet touched it. The Prophet, Ralim. THE Prophet."

He sneered, and his face twisted in contempt.

"The Rock---is Lord Ghidorah's mortal enemy. Humanity shall reap no rewards if any reminder of him remains, however removed its genesis. The loss of the Mosque is regrettable--but to see only human faces under every star is worth so high a price."

Aliana then closed her eyes, and held firm. Her arms sprang out, breaking her captors' ribcages. The rest died from her seized weapon. Ralim died, shaking.

"How--we had you?! You are only a computer jockey and a healer."

"I was a sickly child, Ralim. And terribly slow. So my parents had me artificially evolved. Only my faith helps balance me. As your lack of true faith damns you to dwell with that old dragon."

"We...still win, witch....the missile has struck true, and your God's city's air shall run out, before you can release the shield. Humanity Prevails."

He died, and Aliana shrugged.

"Our shield has been upgraded, Ralim. Many times. It is a rad-absorber, as well. Computer, lower the shields."

"Coded Authorization Required."

Lieutanant Commander Aliana Bashir looked about at the dead infidel that wore her countrymen's' skins.

"There Is No God But God, And Mohammed Is His Last True Prophet."

"Authorization accepted."

"As it should be. Computer--contact The Chief Of Teachers at Wailing Wall University. The three great faiths shall now have to share one Exodus."

-------------------------------------------

Harriet Janeway read the report, on how the institution she had sworn her life to had been corrupted beyond measure by people whose notions ran counter to every measure of decency Starfleet taught and stood for.

"I did this for a little boy I once knew. He was my Captain's son, and one night the Order pulled him from his bed and raped him, and told us all he was dead. I know this boy. How many children that I don't know have suffered under this tyranny? Infiltration was risky, but life itself is becoming a risky option, of late. My name is Janice Rand."

Harriet grabbed her chest, as her heart skipped. For Janice Rand had been found in her cabin, two years earlier--raped and murdered.

FINAL REPORT ON THE INFILTRATION OF STARFLEET BY THE ORDER OF THE ANCIENT DESTROYER, CAPTAIN JANICE RAND REPORTING

"I'm sealing this report, in the event of my death. I never thought people actually said that, til now. But The Order is exactly that dangerous. How did they become that dangerous? How did they take over Starfleet? Two simple answers: Crazed bigots are always dangerous, and they didn't take over Starfleet. From the beginning, they have been Starfleet. The noble explorer typified by my former Captain and long-time friend has always been the exception. Those bold words of Robert April's, 'To seek out..', were no more embraced by all of Starfleet than all Vulcans embraced Surak. We are the heretics, to believe in the worth of all life, even that which is different--especially that which is different."

"We are a small cult, celebrating diversity while around us, children are taught to hate, and their spirits are ground to powder by an Academy structure that is nearly feudal in nature."

"So how did all this occur? Ironically, with the discovery of the tenth planet. Don't ask me how, but members of The Order purchased it, upon its discovery in 2030. One man spoke out against them, and he died fighting The Order, seven years later. History remembers FBI Director Fox Mulder for many things, but not this. You haven't heard of The Tenth Planet, have you? That's because all who knew of it and could confirm its existence were brutally murdered. The Order wanted a place to operate in secret. As space travel increased, The Order made sure to set up and staff the organization that oversaw flights that left the solar system. This was SpaceFleet Central. When Contact was made, and the Federation founded eventually, Spacefleet Central--became Starfleet. We were created by hate."

"If I make it all sound so simple, please understand, that it is the nature of the truth that is simple, not the truth itself. The Order has always held its hate quietly. But contact with non-humans united their cells as never before, and they became super-quiet. You will probably never know that you are dealing with an Order-member unless you yourself are one, and that's scary."

"The rank-and-file were corrupted the old-fashioned way. Officers, back from serving long missions, had very often seen friends die at the hands of some very hostile aliens. In that moment, the Order pulls them aside, and tries to persuade them that hate is wrong. Those that keep hating--are the ones they want. No one ever reports anything, because no one ever suspects anything, until they're in."

"The Admiralty always presented a special problem. To hide what they were, The Order chose to staff Starfleet's upper echelon with people they did not like. But this also meant that those 'xenophiles' as they called them, dictated who served at the top. So as to isolate and destroy their foes in secret, The Hall was built. Admirals talking only with Admirals bred stupidity and arrogance. The stupidity led to bigotry for some. For others, it caused the turning of blind eyes to the hate they saw creeping in. It was a slow process, but it also allowed The Order to recruit on campus for the first time. The Academy was their ultimate goal, for obvious reasons. One sorry example of recruitment was William Komack--who was made drunk and filmed sleeping with a---vastly underaged girl. Vastly, vastly underaged. They didn't have his heart-- but they had him where it counts."

"To conclude, they own a third of us, and control over half of us. They are more us than we ourselves are. And they are trained, and they are ready--and they believe in their dragon. Ghidorah may or may not be real—but the Order is. To my mind, they are the realer threat. May our heretical beliefs of peace and diversity prevail over 'humanity', as they define it."

----------------------------------------------

Janeway shut off the report-vid as they entered Idaho airspace. Her words were simple.

"Oh, my God....."
----------------------------------------------
 
Upon their arrival in Idaho, Maurice Picard was livid.

"Kirk, you have taken me prisoner and transported me to your home, quite against my will!"

Bill Kirk shrugged.

"Your point being....."

The Frenchman and The Iowan seemed on the verge of blows, when Harriet Janeway stepped in-between them.

Five minutes later, they were both working to restore her to consciousness.

"Merde! Is this woman insane or something?"

Aaron Sisko looked at his ex-wife, who had been knocked cold by the two men. He smiled.

"Actually, she's insane--and something. You don't know how many times I had to put ice on her jaw, after she stepped between two feuding Council members."

Bill Kirk nodded.

"She reminds me of a gal I knew named Suzie---or was that Kitty? They were just so much alike, its hard to remember."

Janeway slowly roused.

"I...owww...happen to know for a fact that the Kirk reputation for dogging it is... oohh..way overblown, Bill."

Bill nodded.

"For Jim it is. He played around, but he has his one true now. For Peter and Saavik it is--those two are so bonded its scary. Come to think of it, so are they. But me? I grab everything that even looks female."

Aaron pointed to something on the map of San Francisco.

"Here. Here is where we'll access Starfleet HQ. They can't have killed everyone just yet. We liberate the main prisoner bays--we can take back Starfleet's Capitol City. Suggest we raise city-grids right after. They've already bombed five major cities out of existence. They won't hesitate once they know we have San Francisco."

A Janeway who was regaining herself looked at the map, and puzzled.

"Aaron--these access tunnels are just a legend. If they ever were real, they're not any more."

"No, Harriet. They're quite real. Remember, before it was Starfleet HQ, the San Francisco complex was Earth's pre-orbital shipyard. As a Master Builder, I know of them. No one else alive would. During The Romulan War, when it was briefly feared that the enemy might penetrate this region of space, they were sensor-insulated with crude but effective materials. Once we're in there, and we have some people with us, a direct hit from an ancient neutron bomb wouldn't affect us one wit."

Janeway still seemed skeptical.

"We're assuming of course that these Order-lunatics won't Anti-Matter Bomb a city with their people in it. An iffy proposition, at best."

Despite Janice Rand's eerie words, Harriet would not and could not accept that these monsters were the real Starfleet. To accept that was to accept total defeat. Like Dorothy in the old stories, she would leave this strange land of hostile people and go back home to the realms of reason and light.

"I know, lady. Believe me, I know. But its all we have."

For Aaron Sisko, this whole thing ran very deep into his being. After the Academy was placed under In Loco Parentis, he followed the tradition of Bill Kirk's older brother George, Senior, and led a series of protests. Remarkably, they never expelled him for it. They did worse. They stuck him in the orbital shipyards. No command meant making no difference. Except that he made a difference. In dreams, the mother he barely remembered told him to craft swords for his enemies, but that they would never use them. With his brother, the speaker to the masses, he would be one of five shepherds, to hold back The Wolf. So Aaron built not substandard ships, to punish those who exiled him, but grand ships of the line meant to fight the battle of Armageddon. And they would have to do just that.

"We'll need weapons, and I have them. Some of them are crude--this was Militia territory, back when humans didn't all just love each other. But they'll do things to an opponent a phaser never could."

For Bill Kirk, this was a matter of family honor. He had seen his older brother George's career destroyed by The Order. He had seen George's boys, Sam and Jim, raised by their insane mother, with him helpless to intervene because of Order-influence. Then, when Jim adopted poor sweet Saavik, he found out that his little fireball had been raped regularly in the name of an Order-created orgy of sin and defiling. When Peter returned from the dead, he found it out again. He was also a man with a secret shame, beyond anyone else's comprehension.

"I did not ask to be a part of this fight. But if it exposes the Federation's naivete and utter foolishness and protects the relative innocent, then who can stand against us?"

Maurice Picard was not quite the cynic he appeared. But he was fervent in his anger at the UFP. He wanted to be let alone, with his family. But he had seen the rise of fascism within the central government, and often wondered why no one else could or would. Fascists, every good Frenchman remembered, were not much for leaving people alone.

But something was about to bust through all their concerns and unite these disparate souls as never before. Sisko saw it first.

"Its an address from the new UFP President. Right now, even their propaganda is worth watching for clues."

His spokesman came on-vid first.

"At long last, on planet Earth, Humanity Prevails! Alien animals by the score are being put to death—quick death, mind you. No escapes, no contacting their insipid race-traitor friends, for they are also being brought low. The reality we have dreamed of is coming around, at last. When you and your children wake in the morning, the faces you'll see across the way will have features known to you. Their customs will be your customs. They will think as you think. No more guessing. We have tolerated the genetic pollution of our universe quite long enough. If the aliens think they have it bad from Lord Ghidorah, just wait till our fleets arrive. The Ancient Renewer is our fortress and bludgeon. For decades to come, we will have to act as living scalpels, to finish the cleansing of our cosmos. Praise Victory!!! Humanity!!!! GHIDORAH!!!!!"

The chant was repeated as always, and Kirk felt his stomach tighten.

"Praise Victory? Why does that sound so familiar?"

Picard felt his jaw lock.

"Translate it back to its native tongue--then you'll know."

The crowds on Vid were large, and while they were not artificial or coerced, they did represent the bulk of the Order's membership in Sector 001. Paris, the City Of Lights, currently had no residents who were not of the Order. The spokesman continued.

"We in Starfleet have had to take the worst of it. We dealt with the inhuman trash and those who loved them day in and day out. Even our bloodlines may be suspect, making us unfit to lead. But John Gill, Master Of The Order for thirty good years, foresaw this problem. Using his encyclopedic knowledge of our world's great history, he found a leader, strong and pure. Finding that the ancient Soviets had kept a sliver of his brilliant brain, he had him cloned. But nothing was lost. In fact, Herr Gill made sure that as this Leader was once for a mere portion of humanity, he is now for all true humans. He is our Leader, now. His return and that of Lord Ghidorah's are twin good omens, for this man was an Order-Member, even in his day. Until now, he has chosen to call himself All Human. While he is still that, let everyone now see who he truly is, and rejoice. The Leader will now speak."

He strode out, and there was no one who did not know him. The bigots stood in true awe, now feeling that their victory was assured. Those with conscience cursed John Gill's miserable soul.

Kirk.

"How many times? HOW MANY TIMES?"

Picard.

"The bastard has taken Paris once again."

Sisko.

"I'll blow up this whole damned planet before I'll let that--that AntiChrist--rule it for any length of time!"

Janeway.

"History tells us that certain horrors fade. But his only get worse, with each review.  Now it begins again. But not on my watch."

Recovering, the UFP President saw the man emerge. Though not from Earth, it was hard not to have heard of him. In the white uniform he thought made him like Lohengrin, the little man addressed cheering throngs ready to yield up their hearts and their souls in exchange for the veneer of security and sameness.

It was just like old times, he thought.

"My People! Let All Who Listen Be Raised Up In Their Struggle By My Words! Our Purpose And Our Path All Clear, We Shall Rise Up And Crush Those Who Betrayed, Belittled, And Corrupted Us. Your Struggle Is—My Struggle! From The Three Heads Of Ghidorah Through Our Guns And Bombs, Let Us Cry Out—Today Earth--Tomorrow The Stars!!! Lightning From Ghidorah Provides Lightning War! Praise Victory!!"

As suggested by their cell-leaders, the crowd began to chant in their new Leader's native language.

"Sieg--Heil!! Sieg---Heil!!!"

Back in Idaho, only the legitimate UFP President dared to say the obvious.

"Its Adolf Hitler."

Chapter Five - The Reign Of The Beast

A man with a voice that could entrance his most virulent enemy stood and spoke in front of the five million fanatics who were his core supporters. More were being created--at gunpoint, all over Greater Sol in Sector 001.

"The old decrepit God of times now past was content to create this world in six days. But this is only the second day of our endless reign, and we must move forward to recreate it before the sun sets on this spot tonight. For those of us born better, there may be no rest. For on the seventh day we will strike out at the animals who inhabit the worlds that are rightfully ours. Let there be resistance, to test our mettle, and our resolve. Shall we meet this resistance meekly?"

In unison, both inspired and recited, the word went out.

"NO, LEADER!!!"

He pulled back his hand, now balled into a fist, then cast it down as he began again.

"Of course not. The True Humanity is a force as relentless as Lord Ghidorah himself! Like lightning my forces once struck. Now, The True Humanity moves together as The Ancient Destroyer's Fourth Head, and the Pure White Light that we emit shall see us make a home of the cleansed universe. Stalinuvich is dead. Rosenfelt is dead. Churchileim is dead. I remain, because I am All Human. And Humanity Prevails! Praise Victory!!!"

"LEADER!!!PRAISE VICTORY!!!PRAISE VICTORY!!!!"

"Let it be known on Q'onos, where the infant-blood drinking Klingons dwell! Let it be known on Tellar, Land Of Pigs! Let it be known on Andor, Land Of Upright Rats! Let it be known on Vulcan, which first polluted our birth-world with alien taint!"

He pointed all around, then slammed down his fist.

"OUR PATIENCE WITH YOU IS NOW EXHAUSTED!!! WE HAVE TOLERATED YOUR PRESENCES LONG ENOUGH!!!  THE PRIMORDIAL CHAOS WHICH WAS YOUR ALLY IS DONE FOR, AND IN ITS PLACE REIGNS THE ORDER!! PRAISE VICTORY!!!!"

The refrain began again, a bit more joyfully, and a bit more mindlessly. The Leader continued, after five minutes.

"In the shadows we grew. We have seen the very meaning of humanness ground out and diluted by the presence of the alien. Degrees of humanity that were once unthinkable are allowed now as somehow acceptable. Shall we begin the movement back to embracing The True Humanity?"

"YES!!!!"

The phrasing was perfect. It could have meant anything to anyone. But to the reborn Hitler, it meant that certain humans were, in effect, more human than others. It meant that nothing had changed.

"You are as gods, and as gods, you must move forward in judgement that is preordained. For if humanity prevails, then by definition no one else does. Not even that most polluted of all beings, The Rock."

A gasp went up, as he knew it would.

"Are you mewling infants, to be fearful of one dark-haired boy of suspect heritage? Let me show you the true face of the mighty and invincible Peter Kirk! Let me show you the weakness of his father, the great Captain James Kirk. Watch the fallen martyrs of Admiralty Hall deal with that little monster, who they say is somehow a match for Lord Ghidorah."

On vast screens, the ugly, vile scenes began to play. It was the gang-rape of a 13-year old boy by over 30 of Starfleet Command's top echelon. One mother grabbed her son and turned his eyes away from the beyond-pornographic scene. Hitler pointed at her and shouted.

"Let all the children view the destruction of our enemies! Know that as this false messiah huddles for warmth with his point-eared sister, that it is he who is fearful of us!"

The boy nodded, and pushed her away.

"Mother, I want to see it."

The vicious tableau was edited to leave out the ferocious fight that Peter Kirk had put up, resulting in the deaths of 14 of his rapists. When it was finished, Hitler concluded his words.

"That and worse is what awaits all our enemies, if we merely prove worthy of our pure and noble pedigree. That is also what awaits our children if we are not worthy. Make no mistake. Animals can rule over us. They will do so badly, and haltingly, and eventually, we will rise up again as we have now. But in the interim, we will be a race of SLAVES! Would you have that, for even one second more?"

The obvious answer rebounded across captive Paris for a full fifteen minutes. Like the demon he worshipped, Hitler drank the emotion in.

"Now, you will surge forward like a wave of life through Ginnungagap. Kill the alien. Kill the xenophile. Kill the miscegenator. Kill the hybrid. Cleanse The Earth, and he will find us worthy of the destiny that he serves, as well as any of us do. Humanity Prevails! Praise Victory!!!"

As he withdrew, the little corporal barely heard the nattering of his chosen aide.

"Sir, Lord Ghidorah must be mentioned more often in the next speech. It keeps a religious sense in the masses. Many of them allowed xenophile rulership of their home regions to gather your forces here. Also, we need your exact definition of what 'The True Humanity' means. Already, your words are like gospel to the people carrying out the word."

He turned and looked at the aide, seeming very confused.

"Like gospel, Schertzen? 'Like'?"

He turned and continued walking, and the aide felt real fear of his leader for the first, but not the last time. Around them, portraits of Federation Presidents were being taken down to be burned. In their places were portraits of Masters Of The Order, from Colonel Green to John Gill and beyond. It was the beyond that Hitler noticed. A huge painted portrait of Grand Admiral Brock Cartwright hung in the glory he sought so long in life.

"Get that filthy Schwarzer out of my sight! The True Humanity's history shall disavow that scum such as this was ever allowed to serve The Order!"

Schertzen was confused. He was a bigot by almost any standard. Except perhaps one.

"Leader, Order-Master Cartwright is a hero and a martyr of the cause. He is responsible for Lord Ghidorah's presence in our Quadrant. He was as All Human as you or I."

Hitler went to grab Schertzen by the collar, but grabbed something away from it. He stared at the pendant, his hand shaking. He screamed, and threw his former aide against the painting. Handed a phaser rifle, he destroyed both Schertzen and the portrait.

"LEAVE MEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!"

Alone very quickly in his private office, Hitler remembered Schertzen's look before he died. The long-time Order member could not figure his Leader's horror. Had he read true history, he would have known why the madman looked upon the pendant with disdain. But Order-members read only Order-History, and were taught to trust only Order sources. The young man, who wore the Star Of David only because his maternal grandmother insisted, learned history rather well in his last minutes on Earth.

"The Order itself must be cleansed. Ach, how have we fallen so very far, to include those we once swore to destroy?"

Turning to his computer terminal, the planner constructed strike-forces based on criteria understood only by his diseased brain.

"There will be many more martyrs, Herr Cartwright. You may have been an animal in human form--but you ran this thing of ours so very well, one could almost forgive the pigmentation oversight. Almost. These men and women will be, shall we say--on point?"

----------------------------------------------------

SAN FRANCISCO

As Bill Kirk's weapons-laden transport crashed into the Order-controlled Comm Center, he, Harriet Janeway, Aaron Sisko, and Maurice Picard sat on horseback atop one of the highest hills, waiting to move forward and free the loyal Fleeters, for whom the Order wanted a show trial.

Sisko shook his head.

"We may be facing the end of creation. An undead evil is running much of the world. Opposing all this sin, idolatry and depredation are--four haggard riders on horseback. Yeah. No symbolism here."

Kirk nodded.

"Just so long as I get to be Pestilence."

------------------------

At the orders of their reborn Leader, selected groups of Order fanatics surged forward against hardened targets all over Earth's solar system.

The grav-secured bunkers of Io.

The heat-collectors of Mercury's moon fragment, discovered in 2022.

The Terra-Last Line Gun Battery Emplacements at Cape Fear On Phobos.

The Command and Control Centers of Titan.

In Paris, the self-proclaimed leader of The Federation directed it all, including details that a 23rd Century-bigot would miss altogether.

"When saddled with scum, Marentz, you do what armies have for centuries. You put your scum in the heart of the danger. They must fight harder to live, and if they die, all the better."

Marentz, the 10th top aide to Hitler in as many hours, shrugged to look at the list.

"Sir, you have my fealty and my devotion. I believe that through you, humanity will prevail at long last. But you've placed Commander Erickson on the Io assault group. He's our best organizer, sir. We need him, not me, here at your side."

The Leader looked straight ahead.

"Herr Erickson's mother--is a Gypsy."

Again, the young man shrugged.

"I know. She was my cell-leader. Taught me how to memorize Starfleet authorization codes when the xenophiles would recite them. One of the most devoted to the preservation of the People's purity. And quite beautiful."

The 11th hour came, and a new top aide was brought in to replace the deceased Marentz. And Hitler shrieked as she entered.

"A fragile flower that may serve to bear purely human children? Are am I surrounded, then, by madmen?"

Three floors below, a former top aide to deceased Order-Master Admiral Brock Cartwright reviewed the human classification charts.

"Lieutenant, these make no sense. Why are we all of a sudden separating humans into categories? So long as there is no alien blood, a human is a human, right?"

A phaser bolt took him out. The Lieutenant reported.

"Commander Jones proved unworthy of you, Leader. And you are surrounded by yet more weaklings."

"I know this, my boy. The Order itself must be torn down, for purification."

"But so few of us have truly embraced your new teachings, Leader. What if the purification does not take?"

"Then, I have a more...final solution...to this dilemma."

----------------------

As the third day began, The Order Of The Ancient Destroyer learned several important things.

SAN FRANCISCO

Maurice Picard directed the rookies on how to use a simple staff, for fighting, if pressed to it.

Bill Kirk found network feeds ridiculously easy to restore.

Aaron Sisko found that virtually none of the targets The Order had set out to take had in fact, been taken. The few that had were taken back within an hour.

Harriet Janeway actually managed to contact the President's offices in Madrid and Munich. The Order still had Paris. From all this, she drew a conclusion.

"The Order is a group of well-placed operatives. Behind the scenes people. An army meant to skulk and strike, not move forward suddenly."

Yet she knew this comforted the innocent dead not at all.

-----------------------------------------------

In various places, the 'field agents' of The Order--ordinary people, fearful of that which was different--emerged from their binges of death and callousness.

A boy who had killed two alien girls remembered how much he had liked one of them.

The grandmother who poisoned the waters of her town saw a picture of her Tellarite granddaughter--who had her late husband's eyes.

The young man who had plotted out the death of his family now imagined he held his baby sister in his arms.

A man who had killed an alien shopkeeper now found that no good sandwich shops were left, and he cried.

By and by, these people and others like them killed themselves—and they were the lucky ones.

--------------------------------------------------

PARIS

"Herr Tomas, Herr Jantz does not enjoy my trust, any longer."

"Herr Jantz, Herr Tomas does not enjoy my trust, any longer."

Through surreptitious use of such messages, the mad Fuehrer delighted in the alpha games between his top aides. One by one, they killed one another, and all over the sector, leaderless Order fanatics surrendered for lack of support on their attacks.

The Order had thought itself full of bigots. But in the man they brought back, they now had the real thing.

As a wise man once said, you cannot summon up the devil and ask him to play nicely.

As The Order dissolved into infighting, 'alien' prisoners escaped. The monsters became far more interested in killing each other than their supposed targets.

------------------------------------------

All around Earth's solar systems, the strategically placed clerks and supervisors who had seized control for the Order found themselves arrested and killed. The back-up they had anticipated, after locking out their co-workers, never came.

In San Francisco, as Harriet bandaged Maurice's head, she marveled that casualties were as low as 20% in such an all out battle. Then, she stopped and realized that Starfleet defections to the Order had also been about 20%. And the losses were not done with yet. Bill Kirk walked in.

"I got through to my nephews and niece. The Enterprise is speeding for Q'onos, but they'll never make it in time. Ghidorah is just sitting outside the main Klingon sector, waiting."

Picard slept, and Kirk thought well of a man who had not wanted to fight, but had fought like hell when it was needed.

"People---the news just went from lukewarm to worst!"

All attended to Aaron Sisko's monitor, and yet another address from Hitler.

"The Order And The Earth have proven wholly unworthy of myself and Ghidorah. You are all mongrels. It is fit that you should die together. Humanity ceased prevailing when you forgot who the real humans were. The Aryans. You shall not be mourned."

Whatever these words meant, Bill Kirk's attention was on something else.

"The Prisoners! Grab a look."

Sure enough, they all saw the odd sight. On the forehead of every member of The Order--was now burned a painful tattoo, drawn by an unseen hand.

It was the number Zero. The Beast had marked his soldiers, and without meaning to, their true worth.

Chapter Six - The Eve Of Destruction

The former Western Hemisphere Head Of The Order banged til his hands bled on the sealed doors to the usurped Presidential mansion.

"Leader, please! Humanity wants to follow you to glory. But your ancient ideal of humanity no longer fits. Any human can become any other human, so long as they are human. Skin color--hair styling--it can all be changed. Sir--all humans are humans. We want to follow you as we exterminate the alien animals. But the Earth is humanity's sacred birthplace and home--destined to be spared by Lord Ghidorah. Just let us in---we need you, and you need help, to see clearly once again."

From a history book prepared by the admiring Order-Master John Gill, this young man had grown up believing that Adolf Hitler was the very truest of all leaders. Raised up by his own hand and by acclaim as well, he was supposed to have been the ideal of racial identity.

But Gill's scientists, working from brain-scrapings kept by the victorious Soviets, had failed to notice certain things about Hitler's cells. At the end of his life, the Fuehrer was addicted to several types of drugs. Unseen after so long an interval, the clone-crafters made these drugs an integral part of the new Leader's DNA. His body now produced its own heroin, its own morphine, and many others. The clone, savior of a bigot army, was born and bred already quite mad.

Inside the chamber, the recreated madman consulted with a few brain-numbed 'Aryan' loyalists.

"Then the missile will detonate the anti-matter, as you call it?"

"Yes, Leader. Those who are not protected--those who are not us---will die a horrid death, as the reactions convert the atmosphere to blazing ozone."

No longer smiling, the dictator nodded.

"Begin Operation: Oxygen Destroyer. I would have been Odin to them---but instead, I shall be Surtur, and then Ymir. Gotterdammerung, my unworthy Aesir. The Night The Heavens Fall. The Twilight Time."

The missile was readied.
 
--------------------------------------------------

In San Francisco, Starfleet forces, now freed from captivity, directed the liberation of the West Coast, from Baja to Juneau. Being heavy with Starfleet personnel, who formed the majority of The Order's membership on Earth, this part of North America was vital in retaking the Earth as a whole. Nowhere except Paris itself had such a high concentration of 'revealed' bigots. The rest were scattered in high positions that no longer served them, and were being killed when they didn't kill themselves.

That had been the great plan, mused Aaron Sisko. Lock the non-Order members of Starfleet in or out until support arrived. Which it never did.

"Harriet? Have we decided what to do with the Prisoners yet?"

Harriet Janeway shook her head gently at her ex-husband. The problem was damning. To keep the prisoners alive, let alone well and healthy, meant keeping Starfleet officers who wanted to search, not cleanse, the universe, out of action. In a numerically favorable but tactically tight battle, this was wholly unacceptable. The alternative, though, was murder.

"Bill Kirk suggested sedative gas, but for some that might mean death, anyway. Our vintner friend made an interesting suggestion."

"I rather doubt that. Maurice Picard doesn't just have a big mouth--he is a big mouth."

"My opinion of him takes a different bodily orifice as an example. But this one may have merit. He suggested that we offer amnesty to anyone willing to switch sides. Could be some of them didn't want to be in The Order."

Sisko closed his eyes.

"Judas. Quisling. Green. All those people made a choice, Harriet. Those who murdered Federation citizens and tried their damnedest to subvert our government have surely made theirs. Lock them in, secure all gates and exits--and move out. Our soldiers won't die guarding theirs."

Janeway looked halfway down, almost agreeing with his words, but disbelieving that they needed to be said.

"Aaron--they'll die."

"Then let them die. And I hope they burn in hell."

It was the divide between them. The one that could likely never be breached. Having seen his mother and grandmother die on the orders of great-uncle Brock Cartwright, he knew from a very early age the grim nature of The Order. Harriet Janeway had grown up in the shadow of what had come to be known as The Commodity, maintained by Commodores such as Mendez, Stone, and resigned Order member Finnegan--who paid for that choice with his life. She had thought of it as a place within Starfleet, as opposed to the Starfleet-in-exile it became.

His was a life of isolated Earthbound xenophobes promoting and agreeing with and killing each other. Hers was a life of overworked Starbase Commanding Officers, working to 'frag' political agents sent by Admiralty Hall. In his life, evil had been hopelessly entrenched. In hers, it was another enemy, waiting to be shown the right accord. They cared for, and perhaps even loved one another. But the difference could not be broached easily, if ever.

"There has to be another way."

"The people they murdered must have thought so, too. Like the President's sister-in-law. Like the Tellarites at Shav-Tem Sonics Corporation. People like my family, killed by another family member. People like The Graysons."

Since Vulcan Ambassador Sarek and his wife, Amanda Semple Grayson, were both close friends of The President, and by extension, Harriet's as well, that slaughter hit her hard.

"Can we at least make it quick?"

"In that, we have no choice. Our sorry excuse for a timetable leaves no time for interrogation or torture. A fact which makes me especially glad."

"Why? Because you doubt you could rein in our people, if it came down to it?"

"No. Because I'm certain I could not rein myself in."

As Harriet left to give instructions she hoped would never be needed, the one Kirk who had finally left Starfleet in utter frustration after his brother George's death sat at a terminal, trying to break a hideous loop.

The broadcast networks were still not under Starfleet control. The Order and its lunatic reborn leader had posted endless replays of the rape of Peter Kirk, when he was only 13. The Order Of The Ancient Destroyer had a very clear message in showing this. We Broke The Rock. We Broke Your Hero. We Can Break You. Bill S. Kirk did his best to try and interrupt their feeds. But he could not get past their encryption. From behind him, he heard the anti-technological bleatings of Maurice Picard.

"A matter of family honour for you, Non?"

Heavier set than his health-conscious nephew Jim, Bill's dedication never wavered. He answered, but did not look    away from his work.

"That boy is my brother's grandson. I held him as a baby. I once threatened to kill Brianna, his grandmother, if she struck him within my sight. I took care of him and his sister during Academy Breaks. They told me then what The Order had done to them. God, Saavik thought they were using a drill on her. That's how bad the pain was. That's how bad the shame was."

Picard showed his penchant for warm, kind remarks.

"So it was that they both suddenly became Vulcan-sponsored terrorists, attacking the legitimate if unworthy government, giving the fascists a welcome excuse to strike in a brutal fashion. This war is all their fault, you know?"

Bill tried hard to ignore Maurice's words.

"No. I hadn't known that."

Perhaps itchy from inactivity or overly  combative from his forced recruitment, Maurice kept right on.

"Indeed. The Order raped these children of yours, and in turn they raped the future. Perhaps they are the New Destroyers, come to replace the Ancient One?"

Bill tried not to look up from his work.

"I--wouldn't know about such things. I usually leave prophecies to this cousin of mine. You'd like her. If we meet--be sure and insult her. She likes it when people do that."

Bill grinned briefly, imagining Picard's fate if he did insult the Bright Lady.

"Still, Mon Capitan, it would seem that all our futures have been bound up together by the actions of those two. A little boy who played dead for years, and was as much a skulker and murderer as any Order-member. A little girl with a hideous array of mental problems so pronounced, she risked hypothermia and frostbite in a rather mad quest to find The Great Father Christmas. A damned odd pair of Anointed Ones, wouldn't you think?"

Maurice had made the mistake of leaning too close when he said these things. The back of Bill's hand caught him squarely. Bill now stood up, pointing his finger.

"One--I never was a Captain. Jim's the only one who made it that far. Two---don't mention those two kids again. That's first and final. You didn't have to hold two young gods as they cried their eyes out. Three—find someone who can help me break that goddamned footage."

Satisfied in some way with the exchange, Picard sat down at Kirk's terminal.

"Technology, my friend, is a crutch that has knocked the legs out from under this society. The Order used it to hide. When they were ready to emerge, they used it to take key positions without firing a shot. As I showed Ambassador Spock in mock Starship Battle, your technology is its own best enemy and its own worst ally. There. We have your interruption."

Kirk stared at the monitors.

"The hell we do. Its still playing."

Picard shrugged.

"Actually, all of it is now playing. You tried to break their main signal--tres' difficult. But I chose to break their editing signal. They can now no longer censor their broadcast."

Kirk shook his head.

"Censor? They're broadcasting a little boy being violated! What the hell were they censoring?"

"You yourself told me they were. You have gone on at length about how your great nephew Peter fought back against his attackers. Now, the viewing public will see that, as well."

And Bill saw the counter-attack begin. So did everyone. All over the solar system, key positions were rushed and overseeing Order-Masters overpowered. The new message was just as clear. Upon That Rock Will The Ancient Destroyer Break. Especially damning to The Order was its martyred heroes, Cartwright, Komack and Bunson cowering in front of a naked, bleeding teenager. 15 of the 30 attacking Admirals fell before Peter finally did. Bill smiled, despite the continuing horror.

"I thought you hated technology."

"Oui. It is so simple a thing, this world of circuits and programs. It presents no challenge to anyone with half a brain. It bores me to tears. Now--try building a wholly wooden working clock, as Benjamin Banneker did--that is an endeavor, to be sure. One I have sadly never mastered. Tech--that is nothing but ones and zeros."

Bill looked around, as though struck in the face.

"Zeros. Zero. And---When Dread Ghidorah Returns, Those Who Declared For The Beast Shall Be Made Three Times Greater and Three Times Lesser, All At Once, And Be Marked As Nothing. For That Is What They Will Be."

Picard nodded.

"A reverse of The Biblical Rapture, then. Those circles that appeared on their foreheads---we thought that it meant 'O' for  'Order'. A genetic marker, placed there so that they would know who's who."

Kirk pulled up a Tellarite broadcast. Tellar and Andor had been overthrown by their native Order-Chapters.

"Look--the Tellarites have a mark meaning 'Silence'. The Andorians have one that means 'Calm Only'. Wherever there are Order-Members---they bear the local symbol for---Null."

Bill Kirk closed his eyes.

"Maurice, I'm sorry I kidnapped you. Be well, my friend."

Programming the nearby transporter pad for his home in Idaho, Bill left a confused Maurice behind.

In his barn was an antique, salvaged when Cape Kennedy was scrapped. They called it the very first Space Shuttle. Refitted for modern flight, Bill looked at his seat of destiny.

"Jim has his Enterprise--and I have mine."

------------------------------------------------

Back at Starfleet HQ, Harriet Janeway saw the prisoners fall over, shaking and sweaty. One who had promised to violate her himself now looked over, pleading.

"Ki--Kil--Kill M--m--me. Please kill me."

"Why? What's going on?"

"Ghi--Ghid--Ghidorah. He's making us keep--our---PLEDDDDGEESSSS!!!!"

The man's body exploded in a gory mess, slopping right out of his clothes. A wailing energy ball came from him, and then from every other Order-paeon there.

Harriet had to keep from throwing up.

"Ghidorah is eating their souls."

In the heavens above Planet Q'onos, the assembled Klingons began to view a sight terrible even to their tastes. Koloth declared, in a voice made hoarse by true fear.

"The damned are being called up from Grethor. The dead damned--and the living ones, as well. They are his fuel. He is The Barge itself. How can so just a thing still affront my Klingon heart?"

In Paris, the city of fear once again became The City Of Lights, as the souls pledged to Ghidorah now were taken by him.

"The Oath...."

"We were fools...."

"I renounce....."

"Too Late...."

Inside the Presidential Palace, a voice cried out in agonized defiance. Death reclaimed its own. He reached for a phaser as his hand dissolved.

"Nein. I am destined to reign--for a thousand years! For two thousand years! WHERE ARE MY TWO THOUSAND YEARS?!!!!"

The shadow of Adolf Hitler was once again lifted from The Earth, and this time there were no brain-scrapings left. In fact, the viscera of each and every member of Ghidorah's Order faded into nothingness on every world. It was a cleansed universe. But the danger was far from over.

"Countdown commencing, Leader. With no official instructions to countermand- -Antimatter Missile will launch in One Hour. Humanity Prevails."
 

PARIS, FRANCE
 
Aaron Sisko blasted the secured broadcast console to atoms, ending once and for all the taped replay of Peter Kirk's violation by The Admiralty. He then seized the comm-call.

"We interrupt this footage of a teenager being raped by bigoted thugs to announce that the three-day reign of The Order Of The Ancient Destroyer is OVER!!!"

He paused, and when he had his breath, Aaron continued.

"Those fools pledged their souls to the service of a demon, and apparently, that demon claimed his due. But in case any of you morons somehow survived, I have this message for you."

Sisko knew full well that The Order had been wiped away cleanly, throughout the quadrant. But the speech that followed was for their victims, not the vanished racists.

"Let's get a few things straight. First--it is we who have been putting up with you. For millenia, we who don't practice hate have waited for you to at long last grow up. You used to run everything, til we ourselves grew up. So we were patient as we saw you make the same damnable mistakes in all-new ways. Well, we've given up on you. Forever. You have no place here, in the United Federation Of Planets. You are not patriots. You are not the real Starfleet. You were not looking out for the rest of us, and you possessed no secret knowledge. Your history books lied. You sought to cleanse the universe of a subversive, evil element that weakened our society as a whole. Well, thank you very much, because that is just what you did. My only regret is that it took so many innocents' lives to finally be rid of your pestilence."

Harriet Janeway, speaking on behalf of President Ydennek, deliberately moved away from her ex-husband's rousing fire-and-brimstone manner. Her task, she felt, was to project calm, or at least, the appearance of calm and propriety.

"The President once again sits in his office. A great many of the signatory worlds that withdrew under The Order Regime are rejoining The UFP. At this time, we are forced to offer confirmation of perhaps our very worst fear. King Ghidorah exists. The Ancient Destroyer is real. Moreover, we have received word that the Doomsday Machine has revived, and is proceeding on an intercept course for Ghidorah. The full force of the entire Klingon fleet is being brought to bear against the great beast. I've faced Klingons in battle. Ghidorah is in for one hell of a fight. If they are successful, we will owe our allies much, and they will get it. We must also at this time confirm that the Romulan Star Empire is no more. 97% of its citizenry were killed when Ghidorah destroyed Romulus and its surrounding systems."

She was wishing one enemy a victory that might make them all-powerful. She was asking them to mourn another enemy, whose avarice and plotting all but caused the disaster. She was carefully appealing to their best natures. Their worst ones had been appealed to for quite long enough.

"You saw some horrible things. You may even have been forced to do some horrible things yourselves. But the monsters are all dead now, devoured by the larger monster. Despite everything you may have heard, they were not us. Oh, we each could have turned out that way. Very easily. But before you reductionists out there talk about our darker natures and how the line separating us from them is so very slim, consider this. We did not end up as bigots, plotting against our fellow sentients in coded seminars. We did not start slaughtering people based on ever-tightening racial standards. They did. And now they are one and all damned for it. Literally. These were the people we were all so afraid of making angry. What, then, were we ever afraid of? A bunch of sorry idiots?"

Maurice Picard burst in, a worried look on his face.

"Its Bill Kirk! He's on a suicide mission! Please, the Federation now needs such as he, and you. Talk him out of it."

While Sisko went on ahead, Janeway pointed at the emergency broadcast transmitter.

"Power and services are out from Venus to Charon. They need a survival expert, to tell them how to live. Give them what you know, Maurice. Show them how to get by, without tech. You are needed, Monsieur Picard."

Picard glanced nervously at the transmitter.

"Madame, I am not a leader, as you are. My words, they chiefly serve to drive people away from me. Such as my wife and son."

But Janeway merely pointed, and smiled. Picard nodded, and took up the challenge.

"Water sources are easily fouled, at times such as these. You must then build a fire within a ring of stones, preferably made with small sticks and pine needles at the very bottom. Boil the water in a glass or porcelain container, and strain it through a white cloth into another container. This is especially important for the very young and the very old. Also, try to---defecate-- away from where you eat. House filters will not be the insurance they were...."

The big mouth now had a very big audience, and he was the only thing on. His words would save many, many lives.

------------------

It had been a simple thing, mused Bill Kirk. He simply programmed his shuttle to emit the same OverAll Comm-Code as used by the City Of Paris. The anti-matter missile was following him, and he was reaching the edges of the solar system. Now came the hard part.

"Bill--this is Harriet and Aaron, on the ground. Please report your status."

He decided that a quip, however inappropriate, was needed then and there.

"Aside from the missile, Commanders--I seem to be doing fine. Problem is--I stop, so does its detonator timer. And I can't keep going much longer."

Aaron tore through ships' schedules, and found what Harriet thought he might, which was nothing.

"Bill--this is Aaron Sisko. We don't have as much as a garbage scow to deflect that thing with. I am so damned sorry. You almost made this nightmare a pleasure."

Harriet nodded, and then took over.

"Bill---ditto on what he said. Moreover, I hope I'm as active as you, when I'm in my 80's. You Kirks run some great campaigns. It was an honor to have known and served with you, sir."

Then, Bill surprised them both.

"You two are among the next ones. The ones that come after Jim. Maurice is too. You'll also soon encounter others. You'll need to rebuild, after my niece and nephew do their job. Harriet--please tell Saavik that she is so damned pretty. She hates hearing it, but she is."

Aaron was confused, and said so.

"Bill--are you claiming some sort of prescience?"

He chuckled.

"Ask your mother and her people about prophecies, Aaron. Harriet--don't let the job get to you. Don't turn them away from you."

"Bill--please. Make sense."

"You two want sense? Too bad. My real name is James T. Kirk, just like my nephew--or should I say, myself. I lived a life much like his, and died on an obscure world called Veridian 3. Certain Jims accepted their fate, and how it happened. One lucky bastard went on to command a third Enterprise. But I was the only Jim Kirk in all reality to protest. To question why a small world with not even a billion people should mark my end. Suffice it to say, certain powers took offense at this. I've lived three lives in penance. The first was simply a retread of my original life. The second--was bizarre. I was an actor -- name of Bill. He played Jim Kirk. Towards the end of his life--he grew to appreciate certain people he had felt uneasy toward. Now, I'm finishing up my third life. Not the hero. Just the heroes' uncle. You know what, though? I've loved it. As bizarre as this funnel realm has gotten---its been fun. Besides which, since I'm saving Earth and many billions by doing this, I get to negate my own original objection. Great, Huh?"

Sisko and Janeway's ears were ringing.

"Uh--Great."

"Great--Bill."

Having cleared Pluto and all post-system satellites and colonies, Bill slowed down his Shuttle Enterprise, and let the missile find him.

"Kids--keep making a difference."

Bill saw a bright flash, and then the gates to a great city. Waiting for him was his brother George.

"I have a reservation. Got it half-off."

Back on Earth, Maurice Picard accurately read the looks on his comrades' faces. He nodded, and spoke somberly.

"Listen, everyone. You know well that The Order and their leader, Adolf Hitler, are now forever gone. But so is a great man. His name was Bill, and he had no powers--merely heart, and a willingness to do what he must. Three heroes loved him well, and I pity them that with all their abilities, they cannot keep him with us. It must eat at ones like those, to know even they have limitations. But if they are anything like him, they will use those powers in tandem with their strong hearts and prevail over that overfed worm. William S. Kirk died saving this planet from certain destruction, and to do this he used a ship called Enterprise. We are all of us both diminished and raised up by his passing. We did not get on--our styles were too different. But in another life, I think we might have been good friends."

Still dealing with waves of common grief and relief, Harriet returned to the President's office. Ydennek had just finished speaking to the Klingon Chancellor, Gorkon.

"Sir?"

"Harriet. Its bad."

"How bad, Mister President?"

 The politician paused.

"Ghidorah has moved against The Klingon Fleet. They're already taking heavy casualties."

The Apocalypse was well under way.
 
 Epilogue

"Harriet is leaving me. She's taking that ramshackle staff of hers and taking command of one of the Admiralty's 'experimental' ships. If Kirk can't stop Ghidorah before it reaches Vulcan, our forces are preparing for a final stand at a star-system approximately 7.5 Light Years from Earth. Most of our forces, that is. The utter debacle and outright horror that became the 'punitive' Orion Expeditionary Force is something I prefer not to think about. Yes, we took back that system for The Tellarites--just before the planet killing Doomsday Machine arrived. What we did to get it back almost puts us in The Order's league."

"If our victory seemed too easy, it wasn't. Oh, on the surface, the coup fell apart. The Hitler clone was born and bred insane, and his followers failed to realize their own bigotry was actually enlightened by the standards of that madman's original era. That was hardly their only weakness."

"In folklore, The Order seemed quite omnipresent and omniscient. Well, if you isolate and target an individual, and you do it very well, then to that individual you will seem all-powerful. Their numbers, like those of any hate group, might swell at times, but they were never that great. The peak of their Terran influence was right after First Contact. When it was discovered that Vulcans didn't even eat meat, let alone human babies, the memberships dropped off, with many having never taken the soul-pledge."

"They are all gone, now. Here, on Earth, and across what is left of The Universe. Ghidorah took their wretched spirits, and used their hellfire to destroy the greater Q'onos system. Their emptied clothes were placed on conveyor belts leading to furnaces. I kept Hitler's white uniform hat, as a reminder of how close we came to losing this war before it even began. I refuse to touch it, though, and I had it checked and cleansed for his DNA scraps. Nicht wahr, as is said."

"Where was I? Oh, Yes. The Order's main weakness was its selfishness. Had its members cooperated.....no, strike that. Had they been that smart, they would have never joined that wretched band."

"They were well positioned, and more had survived my makeshift purges than I had thought possible. And let us make no mistake, they were damned good at carrying out their orders. Whole provinces were depopulated in those three short days. Terra no longer has a sizable non-native population. What has surprised my human friends and in-laws so much was that human bigotry had its staunch parallel on so many non-human worlds. They could not comprehend that prejudice was not merely a human affliction. Myself, as a Non-Terran, Non-Human by birth, and a Jew by conversion to my wife's faith, sit inside the stronghold of the fallen Order with new appreciations coming almost hourly."

"The total population of Sector 001 has been cut by a third, with similar results stated from other systems. Starfleet, heavy with recruits to The Order, and having fought a vast internal conflict, is halved in personnel and cut by one quarter in able, active ships. The Styles' disaster, promulgated as it was by those fools in Science And Exploration, cost us six or seven top-flight capital ships. The streets are not empty, but they must surely seem so."

"Commanders Harriet Janeway and Aaron Sisko have of course received promotions to Captain. Harriet has her 'bio-ship', and Sisko his 'Anti-Tholian', named for the first ship lost to that vanished species. Bill Kirk, the man who stopped Hitler's last gasp, is also so promoted, albeit post mortem. If he weren't so damned difficult, I'dve offered some kind of commission to Maurice Picard. But all he wants is Alpha Centauri, there to visit his estranged wife, who now wishes to see him as well. He did request and receive a transport from me. Perhaps ominously, that transport contains samples of dirt, vine, and wine from his famous vineyards. Does this man, so in tune with The Earth, know something that we do not?"

"The sky is going dark, as the lights from the distant stars fade away, long since destroyed by King Ghidorah. People are panicking. The Church Of The Rock now exists, promoting the worship of Captain Kirk's heroic children. Peter Kirk has spoken to discourage this, at one point even ordering his 'followers' to disband. He's a fine young man, but he doesn't understand the media. The questionable Church-leaders do, quite well."

"We should have had a happy ending. The Order was gone, and The Federation reformed, Thank God. But too many innocents--and just plain people--had died. People like my dear son and sweet precious daughter-in-law on Qonos. And The Federation is not back together. The Council seems intent on arguing us to death. I am a believer in the principles of republic and democracy. Yet I feel I cannot allow this debate to continue. With my trust in God and my interim successor, I am resigning my august post. I know that President James Tiberius Kirk holds our form of government well in his heart. If there is something left to restore from the old wastes, he will do it as no other man could."

"As I hear the Council harangue poor Harriet for the last time, my thoughts turn to the young Andorian reporter I met just before the coup. She survived, by wearing a wig and using makeup. Plucky thing. She invented two phrases that have now entered our frenzied lexicon."

"Are These Those Days?"

"A nice, standard, almost ecumenical statement about the current crisis. The other one was lifted from an Old Earth crisis that never came. Something about a computer clock program in the year counted by some as 2000. Since this crisis is real, it has easily twice the resonance of that so-called '2K'."

"What Twists And Turns Await Us All In This, The Year Of The Ancient Destroyer? Where, Then, Will Y*AD Take Us Next?"

"The three days of the Order are done and done. But Y*AD? That, I fear, will linger, perhaps until we ourselves are no more. 'Human' means 'wise being', at its core. But will the victor be the unthinking engines of destruction or we wise beings? Will we yet end up saying, to coin a phrase, that Humanity Prevails?"

CEASE PERSONAL LOG

As he got up, President Yozzeb Ydennek used his remaining arm to grasp a pistol given him by Captain Hikaru Sulu.

"Its time to end the debate. We move forward as one people--together."

THE END