The air wasn't too bumpy. John was able to hold the craft on a straight course with little effort, allowing him to focus on the heads-up display for weapons systems.
The craft's targeting system had already picked out suitable targets and automatically set up missile launches with which to strike them. At his velocity, he was closing fast. The grasslands and trees below appeared to be passing under the craft at an impressive rate of speed.
Ahead, the hunters and gatherers had not yet heard the approaching craft. When they did, it would be too late.
-----
Clutching the paper cup of weak, substitute coffee, he must have given off a vibe of discomfort. The squadron commander picked up on his mood instantly.
"There is no room for weakness in our operations.
We all saw how the civilians reacted to contact with the Cormon Dimensionals."
The commander grimaced and shook his head in a gesture of disgust.
"Fucking tribal fools is what most people are. Here we have the chance to join other intelligent species in the galaxy ... and those, those backwardos can't get past the physical appearance of other entities.
The Eugenics Wars were no accident. We all understand the tribal mentality has to go ... no matter what it takes. The 'genics removed the bulk of those in the way. The others dispersed into small groups.
Well, fuck it. Now our sensors will find those groups of 100 or more, and systematically exterminate them. Once they're all gone, then we move down an order of magnitude and take out the groups of 10 or more."
Staring out the window, the commander continued.
"We'll never get a starfleet off the ground with too many primitives around. This isn't about some bullshit romanticized past ... it is about the FUTURE of humanity! This is about PROGRESS, not clinging to old crap."
Staring John in the eye, the commander intoned harshly, "Sometimes you have to break a few billion eggs to make a federation omelette. Questions?"
-----
The beeping of the craft's targeting system alerted John that he was now at optimum range to engage several 100+ strong groups of what passed for the last free people on Earth.
As John confirmed the release of the weapons, he reflected on how good that beer would taste back at the base club.
The craft's targeting system had already picked out suitable targets and automatically set up missile launches with which to strike them. At his velocity, he was closing fast. The grasslands and trees below appeared to be passing under the craft at an impressive rate of speed.
Ahead, the hunters and gatherers had not yet heard the approaching craft. When they did, it would be too late.
-----
Clutching the paper cup of weak, substitute coffee, he must have given off a vibe of discomfort. The squadron commander picked up on his mood instantly.
"There is no room for weakness in our operations.
We all saw how the civilians reacted to contact with the Cormon Dimensionals."
The commander grimaced and shook his head in a gesture of disgust.
"Fucking tribal fools is what most people are. Here we have the chance to join other intelligent species in the galaxy ... and those, those backwardos can't get past the physical appearance of other entities.
The Eugenics Wars were no accident. We all understand the tribal mentality has to go ... no matter what it takes. The 'genics removed the bulk of those in the way. The others dispersed into small groups.
Well, fuck it. Now our sensors will find those groups of 100 or more, and systematically exterminate them. Once they're all gone, then we move down an order of magnitude and take out the groups of 10 or more."
Staring out the window, the commander continued.
"We'll never get a starfleet off the ground with too many primitives around. This isn't about some bullshit romanticized past ... it is about the FUTURE of humanity! This is about PROGRESS, not clinging to old crap."
Staring John in the eye, the commander intoned harshly, "Sometimes you have to break a few billion eggs to make a federation omelette. Questions?"
-----
The beeping of the craft's targeting system alerted John that he was now at optimum range to engage several 100+ strong groups of what passed for the last free people on Earth.
As John confirmed the release of the weapons, he reflected on how good that beer would taste back at the base club.
"THE NEEDS OF THE MANY OUTWEIGH THE NEEDS OF THE FEW"
Cheers
![[Image: 14sigsepia.jpg]](https://i.ibb.co/9yxWwxj/14sigsepia.jpg)
Location: The lost world, Elsewhen
