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Czar d’Oz Episode X: Dénouement

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by Smitty

Start with the Czar d’Oz Announcement

Synopsis: In the year 2112, the characters retreated to a basement shelter to weather a monster tornado. Making an early trip to the local seat of government, they uncovered information pertaining to an experimental time machine located in Seattle. Making good their escape in the experimental TOTO vehicle, they have made it to the territory of the Southwest Czar. They’ve survived an encounter with two surreal characters en route Las Vegas. In Vegas they form an alliance with Jefe, the Southwest Czar, to take a short cut to the Emerald City. The trip lands them in Vancouver, Washington, slightly South of the destination. Driving North, they are greeted at the edge of Seattle with a large explosion. Saving the life of Czar d’Oz, they were given the keys to the kingdom, which they turned to their advantage.

[2121. Pike Place Market, in Seattle. A round table across the street from the original Starbucks, which forms the background. Summer. A player on ukelele is off to stage left.]

“America’s my girl…”

Peter: We don’t get together enough anymore. How are you guys doing?

Martin: Can’t complain.

Zeda: Things just couldn’t be better.

Julius: I’ve got something to go on about it, but let’s hear from you all first. Peter: how is the election forecast? I heard our Vortex might lose some clout.

Peter: Oh, the usual. Only the candidate with the name ‘Obama’ seems to have any national credibility. The alternative parties seem to be a bunch of morons, overt criminals, or knuckle-dragging historical throwbacks, as always. The irony is that, for all the Obamas and the Czarocracy have held power all this time, those opposing ne’er-do-wells still manage to foil the best-planned lays of mighty mice and socialist men.
The Obama strategy seems to be (a) Fear the Army of Strawmen, and (b) re-conquer them every election. We’ve got a few new ploys to make the Flyover Czar and the Northeast Czar look more stupid than usual. And we just broke up another plot to infiltrate the social networking system, like those two Czars did last mid-term.

Julius: Yeah, but the legerdemain is so much more tolerable if you just join the Vortex and participate therein, as we’ve discovered, haven’t we?

Martin: Yep. [Flexing limbs.] Got an iron fist on the supply chain. Staying in spare parts is a breeze. It’s tedious, though. I keep having to explain ‘fair’ for the new meat. After a while, they figure out ‘fair’ is whatever works for me. They quit asking. Then they start working to arrange stuff. They figure out ‘fair’ can support them, too. Just as long as it supports me in the end. The chain of command is a beautiful thing. Once everyone is onboard. Eternals are Eternals, Brutals are Brutals. You try to leave the routes open for them to move up. Like we did. But mostly the Brutals are content.

Julius: Sweet, sweet patronage. It’s what made Rome great, and it’s the glue holding America together. Zeda: how is the acting career going?

Zeda: I’m enjoying it. Getting the scripts past the censors is tough sometimes–

Peter: Sorry to hear that. Are any of them getting too uppity? I can have them re-assigned to voter registration or some other task that will have them dealing with Brutals. That usually helps them be less full of themselves.

Of course, you do understand the need to keep the Brutals pacified, don’t you? It’s a delicate balance, making sure we hold what we’ve got. The less clever must be trained to buy into the various “justice” and “rights” myths that we perpetuate, while that entitlement choke-chain stays just loose enough.

Zeda: Yeah, sometimes I want to just do a classic work, like an Oedipus Rex or a Waiting for Godot without having it turned into a variation on the theme of “Beelze-Bush the Anti-Obama”, or “opposing the Obamas is racism”, or “America the guilty-ful”.

Peter: Is there still room for artistic expression while remaining loyal to the group of 17 Eternal Czars?

Zeda: Oh, sure. Let’s not look the gift whores in the mouths. Things could be so much worse. I’m just wondering if things couldn’t be better if the outcome of all the novels and movies wasn’t always predictable.

“…but she has lost her way…”
Julius: An interesting thought. What I wanted to tell you guys about is a cache of history books I found at a dacha in the Cascades. No more detail than that, lest there be repreisals against the original owner. Which should clue you that I’m only telling you this in the strictest confidence–we could lose everything if word gets out.

The thing is that American history is like a parabola. Freedom increased from the Revolutionary War to the Federal Reserve Act. By then, the US government had diminshed the power of the 50 States via income tax and direct election of Senators. Once they had their own bankers, the American aristocracy could germinate. It rose like bread on a yeast of debt and globalization.
The Tea Party movement of the first Obama administration was the last gasp of the original, independent American spirit. However, the neo-aristocrats had such a grip on the media that no amount of exposed scandal could shake their grip.

Too, the knowledge that the amount of debt was so staggering, the pain of facing the decades of systematic larceny, made the glib words and cheap assignments of blame very easy to accept.
Like Israelites in a desert of debt without a Moses, it was easy for the American people to reject freedom, to scuttle the rigors of preparing for a promised land, and to return to the predictable comfort and occasional whip of their overlord of old.

So that parabola of freedom peaked about 100 years ago. We came here from Topeka those years ago to try to escape this modern American debt slavery. The cache of books I found has writings from as late as 20 years ago discussing the efforts around the country to build a network of people dedicated to the spirit of the Founding Fathers, not the neo-aristocratic people who followed them. Are you interested in taking on some risk? Some adventure? Some action to resurrect the ideals upon which this country was founded, not this horrible, decadent Vortex of progressivism?
Peter: I’ve always felt that change must occur within the system through evolution, not revolution.
Martin: My oath is to support and defend the Constitution. That has been amended to include all of the writings and speeches of Barack Hussein Obama. Maybe you can show that the whole thing isn’t working. But I doubt it.

Zeda: Look. I’ve made it big. I don’t feel that guilty about it. And if I do feel guilty, I do an ad supporting the Obamas.

Julius: It was an idea. As adventurous as our road trip in TOTO those years ago. Forget I said anything. Are we allowed to ask how things worked out between you and Barry Cuda?
Zeda: No, but obviously you want more than that. Let’s say that he was a slow thinker, in terms of that old lyric by that forgotten local band Heart: “If the real thing don’t do the trick / You better think of something quick.” Politicians: can’t live *with* them, and the more kinetic alternatives will land you in jail.

“…so hear me now lament.”

[The ukelele player at stage left picks up a lilting, sad little waltz tune and croons:]

America’s my girl,
  but she has lost her way,
    so hear me now lament.

She only wants to play,
  to primp and toss and twirl,
    though all the cash is spent.

For all the wise would say,
  “You’ve got to pay the rent,
    before the hair you curl,”

To slavery she’s bent,
  on sugar daddy day,
    though he be a squirrel.

That foolish element,
  the pig’s snout with a pearl,
    still prattles on so gay.

What if she gave a whirl,
  and tried to leave a dent,
    by offering a NAY?

Let freedom’s flag unfurl,
  facing fascist flambé,
    becoming confident.

Announcement
Prev:IX. Lab

Copyright 2009, Christopher L. Smith

Czar d’Oz Episode IX: Lab

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by Smitty

Synopsis: In the year 2112, the characters retreated to a basement shelter to weather a monster tornado. Making an early trip to the local seat of government, they uncovered information pertaining to an experimental time machine located in Seattle. Making good their escape in the experimental TOTO vehicle, they have made it to the territory of the Southwest Czar. They’ve survived an encounter with two surreal characters en route Las Vegas. In Vegas they form an alliance with Jefe, the Southwest Czar, to take a short cut to the Emerald City. The trip lands them in Vancouver, Washington, slightly South of the destination. Driving North, they are greeted at the edge of Seattle with a large explosion. Saving the life of Czar d’Oz, they are given the keys to the kingdom, which they turn to their advantage.

“…you’re more resourceful…”

[A lab scene. A control console with lots of panels at stage left, a raised dias with four pointy gadgets at stage right. Big power panel at stage rear.]

Peter: This lab looks really clean.

Julius: I should hope so. The last experiment was just a few weeks back. It’s the new quarter, and, as you might know, there is always a thumb-wrestling match getting all the funds to trickle down from the Treasury to fund the next go-round.

Martin: Is there a lightoff procedure?

Zeda: That would appear to be this. [Pulls out a fat binder from between the display panels at stage left.] Shall we?

Martin: Sure.

Zeda: Ok. Energize all power panels.

Martin: Ok. [He begins energizing breakers. A hum arizes.]

Zeda: Boot control software server.

Julius: That would be this box here. [Reaches under the panel to turn on a CPU box.]

Peter: Ah, Windows XXXVII. Some parasites manage to keep the host alive. We’re fully booted, Zeda.

Zeda: Indeed. Run the calibration routine.

Peter: Calibrating.

Zeda: Now, we’re agreed that we’re escaping to Spring 2008, where we can warn the people that electing a Marxist-in-Centrist clothing is suicide?

Julius: It’s already too late at that point. You’re only popping a zit, not tackling the acne. We could also consider 1908, and warn the people that the Progressive movement threatens the complexion of American politics, and sets the stage for authoritarian pimples.

Martin: But that’s before the electric guitar. Can we make multiple trips?

Peter: Absolutely no idea, but probably not. Ok, the calibration is complete. Everyone has their toothbrushes and valuables? We should assemble on the dias.

[They do.]

Peter: Right. We have a three minute timer, starting…NOW. [He walks from the control panel, across the stage, to join the rest. The timer on the big screen rolls ahead to the final ten seconds.]

(together): 9…8…7…6…5…4…3…2…1…?

Peter: Oh, for crying out loud. I followed the procuedure.

“…than I thought,”
[Enter Czar d’Oz, stage left.]

Czar d’Oz: Yes, Peter, the system worked exactly according to design.

Martin: Nothing happened.

Czar d’Oz: Oh, much has happened in the decades this project has run. Look at this equipment. Look at these buildings. Look at the budget, man. From a bureaucratic perspective, this project is a smashing success.

Julius: But that is a pure fraud!

Czar d’Oz: Fraud, shmaud. All the regional Czars have these pet projects, from warp drive to genetic editing, to artificial intelligence. They’re the prime conduit for R&D earmark cash. None of them work, or will work. But we play our game, we do our dance, we take our cash, and then we spend it on more traditional prostitutes.

Peter: The dishonesty shown to the citizens is astonishing.

Czar d’Oz: Look, if everyone is a liar, then no one is. The only problem with the patronage system arises when somebody fails to understand the dichotomy between the written Constitution of the United States and the reality that there hasn’t been a legitimate election in decades. This triggers outbursts of whining among youthful idealists.

Zeda: This country has been turned into a third-world hell.

Czar d’Oz: It’s the triumph of capitalism. Everything is for sale, including the government. The question is not “should there be business”. Rather, it is “should there be more than one real business.” The answer, for the last century, has been “NO”. Appearances are maintained, celebrated even. The election this November promises to be an outpouring of patriotic fervor unmatched by any previous one. The fact that none of the candidates or the legislation actually matter isn’t something that will trouble the Brutals, who shall go on being fed, and receiving medical management until their utility to the Vortex expires.

“…to have escaped that trap.”
[Enter a man on crutches, stage right. Barry Cuda, a.k.a. Captain Jacob Kleindrubble, a.k.a Raina Petkoff]

Cuda: I’ve found you, you bastard.

Czar d’Oz: Well, you’re more resourceful than I thought, to have escaped that trap.

Cuda: Your other sons are foppish nitwits. Why don’t you just recognize me?

Czar d’Oz: You’re an incompetent gambler and a double agent for my foe, Czar Jefe. Admittedly, these are as much features as bugs, but I don’t trust you.

Cuda: You’ve brought in four people from absolutely nowhere and given them massive responsibility!

Czar d’Oz: Oh, come on. These people have no real clout. The easiest way to figure out what they were doing was to appear to give them free reign. It turned out all they wanted was to see the time machine hoax.

I’ll tell you what: come back tomorrow with a fresh attitude, and we’ll see if you can find some means of regaining my good graces. Come up with a plan. Have it involve guiding the course of the elections this November. Let’s increase the family power, shall we? That’s the only thing we live for, you know: the power.

[Addressing the four]

So, there’s the rub. This country has opted for increasingly centralized control for the last two centuries. It didn’t happen over night. Creating the Vortex was a slow project, brought in incrementally for a sleeping, Brutal populace. They could have paid attention, and did not. Blame the victim? Damn right I do.

Your quest, like elections for the last century in this country, was a sham. But at least I got that TOTO car out of it.

Announcement
Prev:VIII. Seattle
Next:X. Dénouement

Copyright 2009, Christopher L. Smith

Czar d’Oz Episode VIII: Seattle

Posted on

by Smitty

Synopsis: In the year 2112, the characters retreated to a basement shelter to weather a monster tornado. Making an early trip to the local seat of government, they uncovered information pertaining to an experimental time machine located in Seattle. Making good their escape in the experimental TOTO vehicle, they have made it to the territory of the Southwest Czar. They’ve survived an encounter with two surreal characters en route Las Vegas. In Vegas they form an alliance with Jefe, the Southwest Czar, to take a short cut to the Emerald City. The trip lands them in Vancouver, Washington, slightly South of the destination. Driving North, they are greeted at the edge of Seattle with a large explosion.

“I tracked down…”

[The bottom of an overturned car dominates the stage. Zeda, Martin, Julius and Peter are in front of it.]

Martin: No smell of gas fumes. We won’t be a fireball real soon. Not like the bastards ahead of this car.

Peter: Maybe we should just wait for the first responders.

Julius: In contemporary America, first responders are notional unless you’re in a Vortex.

Zeda: [Peeks around rear end] It looks like there is someone in the back! HELLO! Tell me if you can move your arms and legs! [Muffled sounds] Martin, he says he can. No neck injuries to him. The driver is unconscious. Can we right the car?

Martin: Let me try. Peter, Julius, move!

[Martin reaches up and pulls the top of the car toward the audience, and it flops down onto its wheels.]

Martin: The driver is dead. [Turns towards the man in back.] What is your name sir?

Czar d’Oz: [Sounding dazed.] I am Bartholemew Murdoch, the Northwest Czar, commonly known as Czar d’Oz, since we originally came from Australia. Can you get me back to Mercer Island?

“…the lab location over at…”
[A luxurious room on Mercer Island, where all five are now sunk into a sectional, with beverages.]

Julius: We met rather informally earlier. I’m Julius Crowe, this is Peter Lyon, Martin Mann, and Dorothy Zeda.

Czar d’Oz: Thank you for saving my life. You do realize I know all about TOTO. Even though Justin is a complete idiot most of the time, though not as bad a fool as Jeremy, we’re still in contact. Either you have no sense of direction whatsoever, or your supposed mission to New Chicago was a deception.

Peter: Well, while today’s introduction was hardly a job interview, it does get at the point that we’re looking for work. Flyover country is relatively dull compared to the excitement you have occuring in these parts. Is it OK if we ask whether that was an assassination attempt?

Czar d’Oz: Attempt, hell, it was a success. Almost an over-achievement. The fireball you probably saw on I-495 was formerly known as Barry Cuda, my military advisor and spy for Czar Jefe down in Vegas. All of the moves I’d been making to shore up control of Oregon in time for the election this Fall were given away.

There was supposed to be a Czar meeting with Barack Soros in New Chicago today. I really need to be here more than there. So it seemed that rubbing out the traitor in such a way as to give me an excuse for not attending would kill two with one stone bird.

I gave Jeremy the task of finding the right Special Operations people who could do the job and yet were junior enough not to be under Cuda’s control. It looks like he really did nearly kill two with one stone bird.

Martin, you’ve an aptitude for being in the right place at the right time, and plenty of military record, and I’m certain you’re equipped to clean house among my military advisors. Would you like to swear the explicit oath to the Constitution we lip service, and the implicit oath to work for me? Peter, Julius, Dorothy: you’ve also arrived at a hiring moment. My various administrative areas are in need of a shakeout. All four of you have the same offer in front of you. You can ponder this, and we’ll meet again tomorrow to see what you think.

“… the University of Washington.”
[The four are seated around a circular meeting table.]

Peter: Last night I searched on the network and located documents pertaining to the time machine project. It’s been funded heavily for the last decade, I find, and has grown quite an impressive staff.

Julius: You’re stealing my thunder. I tracked down the lab location over at the University of Washington.

Zeda: How soon can we get out of here? Czar d’Oz is promising me all kinds of film roles, but it looks like more of a casting couch.

Martin: The military side is OK. The good news is that I’ve got a few people I know. The bad news is that they’re all on the outside of anything important. You always have to prove yourself. Tomorrow at UW, then? I can drive Peter and Zeda to your office, Julius.

Announcement
Prev:VII. Vancouver
Next:IX. Lab


Copyright 2009, Christopher L. Smith

Czar d’Oz Episode VII: Vancouver

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by Smitty

Start with the Czar d’Oz Announcement

Synopsis: In the year 2112, the characters retreated to a basement shelter to weather a monster tornado. Making an early trip to the local seat of government, they uncovered information pertaining to an experimental time machine located in Seattle. Making good their escape in the experimental TOTO vehicle, they have made it to the territory of the Southwest Czar. They’ve survived an encounter with two surreal characters en route Las Vegas. In Vegas they form an alliance with Jefe, the Southwest Czar, to take a short cut to the Emerald City. The trip lands them in Vancouver, Washington, slightly South of the destination.

“Spend more time…”

[On the pier in Vancouver, reversing the previous scene. The crane lifts TOTO off the ship. Frothy addresses Martin and Zeda, who prop up Julius and Peter between them.]

Martin: So, what’s the deal with this line shaft bearing casualty? There is interesting conversation down the pier. The people here to hook up the water, sewage, electricity are being waved off. I heard the crew being told not to double the mooring lines. You’re leaving as soon as you unload us, aren’t you?

Frothy: The walls have ears, the ears have noses, and the noses have eyes. I will let you know that your team was never more than a cover story, and there was no intention of ever going to Seattle. The drama with the USS Ayers was unscripted, but the rest is playing out as intended.

Martin: Fair enough. Maybe, someday, a beer and a full story. Until then, I’ll take this much.

Frothy: Spoken like a man who knows how it goes. Now, as your plans have been rather rudely upended, I suggest you relax at a hotel nearby for a day, and then press on to Seattle. Here is a suggestion. [Hands a piece of paper to Zeda.]

“…sizing up…”
[Zeda, Martin, Peter, and Julius are in a cutaway TOTO, facing the audience. The screen behind shows Vancouver rolling by.]

Peter: So, what do we do now? Just drive up I-5 to Seattle? We’ve got to figure out how to link up with Captain Kleindrubble.

Martin: We first stay cool.

Julius: Easy for you to say. We’ve got families and friends we’d like to let know we’re alive.

Martin: We died when that first air car blew up on Leisurely Drive.

Zeda: [Facing the two in the rear-view mirror.] That’s right. You bureaucrats and academics are all about avoiding commitment. “Flexibility is the key to indecision,” and you guys are Gumby and Pokey, if you’ve ever heard of them.

We’re in this to the end. We’re going to find this time machine and escape this third-world version of the US. Maybe even warn the people of this country that giving up their liberty to the House of Obama and the Czars was not what they thought it would be.

“…the situation.”
[A hotel restaurant. Zeda, Martin, Peter, and Julius sit at a table left of stage center, chatting. Three soldiers in fatigues enter and sit at another table right of stage center. A waiter takes their drink order. Some cable news channel plays on the screen at stage rear.]

Martin: How’re you kids doing? Name’s Martin. What’s shaking?

Ralph: Lieutenant Colonel Ralph Morris, Washington National Guard. Major Frank Jones and Captain Henry Tate, respectively. It looks like you’ve seen some action.

Martin: Here and there. I wasn’t aware of any National Guard armory around here. Is something up?

Ralph: Oh, nothing too exciting. Heading down to Oregon for routine maneuvers with their Guard. It’s been in the hopper for a while. Kind of hope that this influx of people from California
[nods head toward the screen] keeps things nice and boring.

Justin: Really? What are the media drones on about now?

Ralph: Just some wacky group of revolutionaries have been shaken loose from Flyover Country by all that bad weather, and they’re cruising around the country stirring up hate and discontent. There is an FBI warrant and a bulletin from the Domestic Tranquility Czar calling for information on a gang led by “Red Zeda,” a supposedly statuesque redhead. She’s purportedly got a gang of violent ruffians who will stop at nothing to overthrow the government. They were last seen in California, and moving North.

Peter: And so you guys are notionally on maneuvers, but actually part of a dragnet set out to stop these madmen and woman before their evil spreads.

Ralph: Well, I never said that to you. No, old Barry Cuda has us jumping through hoops with our hair on fire, trying to curry favor with the Czar, like always.

Peter: It can’t be any fun to be ripped away from the Emerald City, the Land of Endless Lattes, the Seat of Czar d’Oz, for this bit of silliness. Who is this Barry?

Ralph: The commander of the Northwest Czar’s ground troops. He’s probably taking good care of our wives back home, as we speak. [The other officers glare.]

“OK”
[The TOTO cutaway is at center stage, facing stage right. Forest goes by on the screen at stage rear.]

Peter: We’re to head down to a bar called the Mohican at Pioneer Square, and meet Barry Cuda? Czar Jefe really has a spy who commands Czar d’Oz’s ground troops, and he’s going to meet us in a bar?

Julius: Oh for heaven’s sake, Peter, of course not. We inquire after him there, and there will be a breadcrumb to get us to the next step. Some patience and savvy required.

Zeda: Let’s see, we’re just East of SeaTac on I-5, still South of Seattle. We’re actually ahead of schedule. Do we need to stop and review anything for anyone?

Martin: No, mobility is our friend. We can get in there early. Spend more time sizing up the situation. OK, we should see Southcenter Mall to our right ahead. Yes, that looks like your standard shopping mall. Fine. We jus–

[Boom! The car shakes…]

Announcement
Prev:VI. Sandog
Next:VIII. Seattle

Copyright 2009, Christopher L. Smith

Czar d’Oz Episode VI: Sandog

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by Smitty

Start with the Czar d’Oz Announcement

Synopsis: In the year 2112, the characters retreated to a basement shelter to weather a monster tornado. Making an early trip to the local seat of government, they uncovered information pertaining to an experimental time machine located in Seattle. Making good their escape in the experimental TOTO vehicle, they have made it to the territory of the Southwest Czar. They’ve survived an encounter with two surreal characters en route Las Vegas. In Vegas they form an alliance with Jefe, the Southwest Czar, to take a short cut to the Emerald City.

“General quarters, general quarters…”


[A pier. The screen shows a warship in profile. An unseen crane is lowering TOTO to the tiny flight deck of the ship. Captain Horatio Frothinghampton, Julius, Peter, Martin, and Zeda are on the pier. Frothy holds a document with thick fold lines in front of himself, and addresses the four.]

Frothy: What kind of a fool’s errand is this? “Spec Ops Team”, my Neon. White. Ass. You two [nodding at Julius and Peter] have obviously never fired anything heavier than a PowerPoint bullet. Ms. Zeda here could easily beat either one of you. What’s that hint of a smile, Julius? Martin is the only one of you worth a fart in a firefight. Sorry Dorothy.

Can I talk you out of bringing the chariot? That car on USS Alinsky has the appeal of a brickload on a greyhound. Orders are orders, but loyalty to country and crew requires I at least ask.

And what’s this “Infiltrate Seattle?” You realize that there is a vessel traffic safety system in Puget Sound? They’ll have mustered a full-on pipe band to greet the four of you geniuses at the pier.

Forget I said any of that. Czars are Czars. Eternals are Eternals. Other than informing you that this trip is as transparent as a lie on a politician, I’ve no need or desire to know any of the details.
Ms. Zeda, you’ll sleep in the sick bay. Julius, Peter, and Martin, I believe the Executive Officer has you in the Chief’s Mess. High tide’s in six hours. I request you be aboard, with your last bit of toiletry shopping done, in four, so we can set the Sea and Anchor Detail smoothly. I like it smooth.

“All hands man…”
[A bridge scene in red light, with darken ship set. Martin talks to Frothy, who is seated in his Captain’s chair. They have coffee.]

Frothy: How are your compatriots doing?

Martin: Zeda’s wishing she’d gone into the Navy instead of hotel management. Julius is winning the quantitative end of the barfing contest. I think Peter still has the edge in distance. Those guys are laid out in the stateroom. Trying to keep them hydrated.
What’s it like in the modern Navy, Captain?

Frothy: It’s all the same. We swear the same oath we always have. The President has the regional Czars. The Northwest Czar owns the 7th Fleet, since they were retracted from Japan in 2059. I work for the Southwest Czar, of course. 3rd Fleet has been out of San Diego since Noah was a bosun. Each fleet still keeps one aircraft carrier in commission, though parts and funding are hard to come by, and deployments are irregular. Why deploy when the two West Coast carriers have to share an air wing?
The bulk of the Navy is small sea control units like Alinsky. This is about the 4th generation of the Littoral Combat Ship concept. Alinsky, of course, is the best damn ship in the Navy. We’ve just been in the yards for hull cleaning and refit–she was looking a bit rough when I took command, I’ll admit, but she’s clean and ready for action.

Martin: How do you call a ship named for a man a ‘she’?

Frothy: Why are all German rabbits der hase? One could say it hearkens back to a pre-Obama gender consciousness. One could also say that Saul Alinsky was a bitch. Or, one could just accept that we have these traditions older than the US Constitution, and no amount of political wind-shifting shall alter this cultural glue that holds us together.

Martin: Fair enough. Where are you from?

Frothy: I’m from just outside of Portland, Oregon. I’ve been sailing these waters all me bloomin’ life, and will probably retire to be a ship’s pilot around here.

And what of you? You’re a veteran of that expedition into Zambiniland at the end of Patrick Daley Obama III’s administration 20 years back, no? I presume that’s how you got so shot up. That is, if you’re inclined to speak of it.

Martin: What’s to say? Zambiniland didn’t pay their vig. Or their leaders got uppity. Or some Eternal wanted to clear out the territory for a new golf course. Or the arms merchants needed to clear inventory. Or the Pentagon wanted live fire training. Or the Indo-Russian alliance needed taming. Or all of the above. Davos gave the signal. We packed up and deployed. We got there and were mostly bored, with occasional firefights. And severe injuries. Also, lots of civilian casualties.

Frothy: I was an Ensign. We spent the whole conflict anchored at Fernando Poo. This was due to low fuel, and the Zambini Navy, of which exactly no units in their Order of Battle ever got underway. Your analysis is as good as any I’ve heard, by the way.

Martin: Well, I’m getting some sleep. We’re two days out of Seattle?

Frothy: Yes. Around tomorrow midnight we’ll be near the mouth of the Straits of Juan de Fuca, or Straits of Wanna Shagya, as they say. We’ll take the low-traffic entry at night and aim to be in Seattle in the early morning.

Martin: Great. Thanks.

“…your battle stations.”

[Morning. General quarters. The bridge. Frothy, wearing binoculars, bridge-to-bridge handset at the ready, stands at center stage by a pelorus. The helm and lee helm are manned. There is a flashing light both at stage left and right. A quartermaster is at the light at stage right. Everyone is in battle dress. Zeda, Martin, Julius, and Peter are at stage rear, out of the way. Martin and Julius are both hanging from a cable running from left to right across the bridge in the overhead. Their heads hang down in exhaustion.]

Frothy: Belvedere, what is the status?

Commander Belevedere, the Executive Officer (XO): Sir, the USS Ayers, one of our 7th Fleet sister ships, under command of CAPT Jeremy Murdoch, has signaled intent to stop and search us.

Frothy: Screw me gently with a chainsaw. [Keys the bridge-to-bridge radio] Ayers, this is Alinsky: Murdoch, lay by your dish.

[The quartermaster codes furiously on the light. The words scroll up the right half of the screen at stage rear like a chat room transcript.]

Alinsky QM: (WTF?)

Ayers QM: (Murdoch pissed, screams you’re smuggling. Frothy won’t get by him.)

Frothy: Ahead flank 3.

Helmsman: All ahead flank 3, aye. Port and starboard engines ahead flank 3.

Murdoch B2B: Alinsky, Ayers: Heave to. Steer course 190 at 5 knots. Let’s have a cup of coffee.

Frothy: This Murdoch has been an upward-failing loser his entire life, like that degenerate brother of his, Justin. [Keys the B2B, snarling] Ayers, Alinsky: Why don’t you tell me what you read in the news today, Plebe? [Puts down the radio] What I’m about to do simply couldn’t happen to a bigger jackass.
[The screen at stage rear shows the tracks of the two ships. Ayers comes down from the North, Alinsky up from the South. They pass several hundred yards apart, Alinsky East, closer to shore.]
Frothy: Left full rudder.

Helmsman: Left full rudder, aye. My rudder is left full.

[The stage tilts towards stage left, and Julius and Peter sag and moan. The quartermaster on the flashing light moves laboriously across the stage using the wire to man the other flashing light.]

Ayers QM: (Murd yells, flank 3, we chase. Our XO warns CO to calm down.)

Alinsky QM: (Frothy in yr CO’s head.)

Murdoch B2B: Alinsky, Ayers: You’re in my waters. I’m within my rights. Don’t make this worse than necessary.

Frothy: [Eyeing pelorus] Rudder amidships. Steady course 090.

Helmsman: Rudder amidships, aye. My rudder is amidships. [The stage returns to level.] Steady course 090.

Frothy: [Keys the B2B] Ayers, Alinsky. Plebe, you have neither any idea what you’re talking about nor business standing on the bridge of a warship endangering good sailors. Break off pursuit now, and I’ll forget the ass you’ve already made of yourself.

Ayers QM: (Murdoch threw XO off the bridge.)

Alinsky QM: (No f’ing way.)

Ayers QM: (Way)

[The left side of the screen shows the two ships driving at the Oregon shore at high speed.]

Frothy: [Bending over pelorus intently, shooting an angle out in the right side of the audience] Quiet! In about 40 seconds, I will be giving an order for left full rudder, and we’ll shoot a narrow gap in a submerged ridge that only a local would know about. Murdoch’s crew should be telling him to do a crash back right now and avoid the shoal waters, or not. Stand by…LEFT FULL RUDDER! [The stage again tilts towards stage left, and the quartermaster works his way back to his original position.]

Helmsman: Left full rudder, aye. My rudder is left–.

Frothy: RUDDER AMIDSHIPS! ALL AHEAD ONE THIRD!

Helmsman: Rudderamidshipsaye, myrudderisamidships. Allaheadonethirdaye, allaheadonethird.

Ayers QM: (Aground!)

Frothy: Left standard rudder.

Helmsman: Left standard rudder, aye. My rudder is left 15 degrees, no new course given.

Frothy: Steady as she goes.

Helmsman: Steady as she goes, aye. Steady course 080.

Frothy: Very well. [Keys the B2B] Ayers, Alinsky. Standing by to render assistance. What is your status?

Ayers XO: Sir, Ayers XO here. I have assumed command. Captain Murdoch is down. We are in radio contact with 7th Fleet, they’re dispatching a wrecker to assist us getting off of this rock. Respectfully recommend that you lock up your logs and put in to Everett, Washington to await the admiralty hearing, sir. Ayers out.

Ayers QM: (CO struck a lookout. Bosun got up. Laid CO out. CO very still.)

[Another officer, the Chief Engineer, enters from stage rear.]

CHENG: Captain. I’m not sure if a propeller knicked the seamount during the gymnastics, but I’ve got a hot starboard line shaft bearing, and I recommend we don’t go above all ahead one third until I’ve had time to stop things and inspect it.

Frothy: Very well. XO, you have the deck. Get us moving towards Vancouver, Washington at one third. I have to draft a message to 3rd Fleet explaining what I understand to be the situation, that a 7th Fleet ship is aground, and I have an engineering casualty requiring immediate attention. I also have to call some people in Vancouver to make arrangements.

Announcement
Prev:V. Vegas
Next:VII. Vancouver

Copyright 2009, Christopher L. Smith

Czar d’Oz Episode V: Vegas

Posted on Comments

by Smitty

Start with the Czar d’Oz Announcement

Synopsis: In the year 2112, the characters retreated to a basement shelter to weather a monster tornado. Making an early trip to the local seat of government, they uncovered information pertaining to an experimental time machine located in Seattle. Making good their escape in the experimental TOTO vehicle, they have made it to the territory of the Southwest Czar. They’ve survived an encounter with two surreal characters en route Las Vegas.

“Look, they’re lying.”


[In the office of the Assistant Dean for Advanced Progressive Liberal Diversity Studies at UNLV. A desk, a bored secretary at stage center right, with Julius, Zeda, Martin and Peter at stage right. A wall divides the stage in two, with Assistant Dean Wentworth in a chair, picking his nose.]
Julius: Hello, I’m Julius Crowe, from Patrick Daley Obama University in Topeka. I’m wondering if Dean Wentworth has a moment to spare?

Secretary: [Nasal voice] I’m afraid he’s occupied.

Julius: I should mention that I’m an article referee for the Journal of Hope and Change, and I have some questions for Dean Wentworth regarding a special issue we’re preparing to support the election this Fall.

Secretary: [Nasal voice] I’m afraid he’s digging in deep on his current task.

Julius: [Sighing] Oh, and another topic at hand is a research grant proposal from the Flyover Czar to inquire about the “Effects of the Crash of 2047 on the Racial Fairness of Gaming Rights in Southern Nevada,” emphasizing of course the terrible plight of the several hundred Uighur poker dealers who migrated to Topeka.

Secretary: [Nasal voice] Oh, well, let me see if he has a moment, then. [Addressing an intercom] Dean Wentworth, sorry to bother you, but a Julius Crowe is here to see you.

“How, exactly…”
[Julius enters the office at stage left, leaving the other three with the secretary.]

Julius: Zoggie, old boy: your secretary is new and rather difficult to get ’round.

Wentworth: Oh, well, you know how it has gone. Working diligently to expand the field. The problematic nature of the cultivation of understanding amongst these Eternals, and worse still, the Czars. The academy is so little respected! Would you care for some tea, old chap?

Julius: I’m afraid I left some fellow-travelers to the mercy of your secretary. There has been a bit of a road trip, as a result of the recent weather in flyover country, you see.

Wentworth: Oh, dear. I’m afraid I haven’t got any convenient visiting professorships to offer, though, come to think of it, the Inter-species Mating Rights and Habits Studies may have a…heh…opening. Sorry.

Julius: Well, I wasn’t really out for a job so much as a bit of parking and some directions to where the Southwest Czar might be found.

Wentworth: Is that all? How am I to place you eternally in my debt if you don’t take any liberties? I still owe you deeply for saving my skin back during the–

Julius: I’ll hear no more of that talk. Though, if there is a visiting professor bungalow I could mooch for a day or two, as a base of operations.

Wentworth: Sure. Here are the keys. The address is…

“…I’m not sure.”
[In the Great Hall of Czar’s Palace, the casino floor has been emptied and replaced with a vast garden of plants that grow tall from halogen lighting. A dais is at stage left, with a few craps tables in front of it. Then the garden begins. Peter, Zeda, Martin, and Julius enter at stage right and advance, looking around, toward the dais. Czar Carlos (“Jefe”) Schwarzenegger IV sits on a throne in a Miami Vice suit.]

Peter: Greetings, Czar Schwarzenegger!

Jefe: Please, call me Jefe. Formality is crap.

Peter: Fair enough. We’re come from the territory of the Flyover Czar, as a result of the wreckage of that tornado, as you know. When it became obvious that other players in Topeka were going to have the upper hand on us, we thought we could add the most value to the country and our own well-being if we found somebody who could appreciate something possibly helpful.

Jefe: Go on.

Peter: As it turns out, there was a son of Czar d’Oz exiled to Topeka. The damage to his office uncovered certain information that, played properly at the New Chicago Vortex, cold hurt both the Flyover Czar and Czar d’Oz, conveniently in time for the election in November.
We request your aid in travelling to Seattle, were we might link up with the Environmental Czar, Phelandria Garofalo-Maddow, the infamous “Phlegm”, to start a disinformation campaign that will weaken both of them, thereby strengthening you.

Jefe: No, I will not ally with any Eternals ‘reproducing’ by unspeakable means. But some aspects of your idea do not suck completely. The story that will accidentally leak is that you’re travelling up I-5 to sneak into Seattle and discredit old d’Oz. You’re disguised, albeit ineptly as union muscle sent to Southern Oregon to help with the election.

Meanwhile, you and your fellows get down to San Diego, where one of my 3rd Fleet ships will take you and your gear for a ride up the coast. That will save you time and hassle. Who would be good for this job? Oh, Captain Horatio Frothinghampton on USS Alinsky will likely be just the man and ship for the job. When you get to Seattle, I’ll need to have you track down a certain Barry Cuda at a bar called the Mohican in Pioneer Square, who will help you get in touch with the Pacific Rim Czar. PRC is far more sympathetic to my cause than Phlegm.

Come back here tomorrow at nine o’clock for the orders to take with you. None of this is handled electronically, you understand? The wires cause fires.

Peter: We are in your debt, Jefe.

“This entire plan…”
[The four leave. An aide comes to the dais.]

Jefe: Look, they’re lying. How, exactly, I’m not sure. This entire plan is bollocks. But it’s low-risk, high-gain bollocks. If they survive the journey, i.e. if Frothinghampton doesn’t find them out and give them a swimming lesson, then we’ll see if “Barry Cuda” Kleindrubble can use them. Or PRC.

Aide: Very good, Jefe.

Announcement
Prev:IV. Porch
Next:VI. Sandog

Copyright 2009, Christopher L. Smith