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The Assassination Factor (standard:science fiction, 12029 words)
Author: Nathaniel MIllerAdded: Feb 23 2015Views/Reads: 844/571Story vote: 0.00 (0 votes)
A story written in HS lit Class (1991) A story of time travel with a twist to protect the Federation of 2654 AD turns into non existence.
 



The Assassination Factor: By Nathaniel Miller 

“Major Christopher, this is Warrant Officer Anne Johnson, Liaison
officer at Presidio Station Headquarters, I have news for you. The 
General has approved your request and needs to see you at Headquarters. 
 Please report at fourteen hundred hours today. Please note, the 
Ambassador of Earth, and the Ambassador of Andromeda will be on hand 
during this briefing, so the dress is working uniform. Headquarters 
Out... BEEP~!” 

Major John Christopher stood in the alcove staring at a mirror in
silence, the message playing in his head over and over as he stood 
staring at the image in the mirror. He had just arrived here at 
Headquarters an hour ago and he now waits for his meeting with the 
General and his staff. John glanced and grimaced at the image in the 
mirror, at the sandy haired, blue eyed, grizzled face of a thirty year 
old who stared back at him. It is a face that had seen a lot in the 
last few years since he had enlisted in the Earth Defense Alliance back 
in twenty three thirty.  There would be nightmares that he would never 
get over and the images of many around him being chopped to pieces 
during the many campaigns he had served off shore and even off planet.  
But now that was about to change into something drastically different. 

It had been two months since his last mission and it had been a tough
one where then Captain Christopher and his team barely got out. He and 
his team had completed the assignment, but not without seven dead and 
four wounded. It was a nightmare of a mission in which he had to 
assassinate a dictator on Rigel Colony, (almost single handedly when 
most of his crew was chopped to pieces) which proved to be the most 
difficult of his entire career. And the trouble of it all they had put 
him on a rest leave after his return, even though they completed the 
mission. He hated the entire affair being off duty as the higher ups 
reviewed the mission. They had indirectly blamed him for the team's 
deaths but he had already proven the shoddy intelligence, and brief was 
responsible for the foul up for that mission that had slaughtered the 
team of young men and women. 

Now he was going crazy. 

The Major had made many requests, been praying for a mission, anything
to break the monotony of being idle, wanting to get back to work, and 
reactive to duty to take his mind off the incident of last mission. And 
for his penance, Command finally gave him one. A mission that he did 
not know would deeply put the hook in him and be intriguing and test 
the very principles he stood for and his military career stood for. 

Now he stood in the waiting room, a few minutes away from the meeting
that would once again put him back into active status. The Major tugged 
at the neckline of the working uniform he wore at this moment, starting 
at the mirror at the image of a veteran soldier before him, a grizzled 
face, blue-gray eyes, the familiar green and black uniform and the gold 
clusters glistening in the fluorescent light.  Major Christopher hated 
the working uniform of the Space Marines, and the mandarin cut neckline 
and trim Spartan cut of the uniform itself.  But for this meeting, he 
would be meeting with Ambassadors of Earth, and a couple of Ambassadors 
from the Federation planets, who had taken an interest in Earth's 
discovery, so first impressions were important. 

John Christopher's eyes trailed casually away from the mirror, and to
the waiting room.  The room that he occupies is open and airy, colored 
sterile white trimmed in a light brown with a familiar logo emblazoned 
on a partition that separated the outer passage and this waiting room. 
It has thick, blue carpets, and many plush furnishings. A tiled walkway 
runs through the center of it and an onyx desk sits in the very center 
of the room, manned by three people. Around him, standing against the 
walls, guards are posted and they are clad in nasty looking 
battle-armor, holding automatic weapons. The room itself reminds him of 
the office in which he reported to be checked out medically for his 
enlist in the alliance. He shuddered at the thought and sighed 
realizing that it had been a long time from that point. The waiting 
room made him feel uncomfortable, not welcomed as it was so designed to 
see Command personnel. He did not like the waiting or the room's 
feeling and he did not know the reason why. In addition to its size and 
Spartan furnishings, the room also has two or more Bay windows 
overlooking the Golden Gate Bridge, and the inlet of the San Francisco 


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